#like when i tell you for the past month or so there's been a ton of like. jesus fanart

[xxepherr]

.ೃ࿐JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY | FC43

summary — in which franco’s just been thrown into the glamorous world of formula 1, and as his slightly jealous partner, you don’t take all the people flirting with him too lightly

pairings — franco colapinto x princess!reader (established relationship)

pronouns — she/her

word count — 2090

note — i have another princess! reader thats been in the drafts for like two months but this one lowkey wins

YOU WEREN’T NECESSARILY THE jealous type. there were sprinkles of it growing up: jealous of those who had a normal life, jealous of the other kids who got to do whatever they wanted, and jealous of how no one seemed to want to hang out with you because you couldn’t really bring much to the table. 

you had a good life and a good upbringing, but you never really understood any of it until you were midway through your teenage years. that’s when the weight of being in a royal family hit. but even then, and still now, why did it matter so much when your older brother was the crown prince anyway? and how his eventual children would be in line for the throne before you? 

you weren’t jealous of that at least, despite only having turned twenty-one this year, you didn’t want the throne at all. you wanted to go do things, see things, not have more responsibilities held over your head. that was the life your brother wanted, a life he was already accepting; it certainly wasn’t for you.

meeting franco colapinto for the first time at thirteen was probably the reason your whole trajectory changed. he was so carefree, happy, free to do as he pleased — you couldn't do that. you couldn’t remember why you had ended up at some karting championship in copenhagen now, but you were glad you did. you met him there, talked to him there, and he embarrassed himself with not knowing how to greet you there. you’d giggled, telling him he didn’t actually have to greet you with a bow like how they do it in the movies, and that was that.

you’d met him again at fifteen, and he hadn’t exactly learnt from his past mistakes . . . not that you minded. uttering a “i did some research” with a cheeky wink and a kiss to the back of your hand, your face had flushed a pink so bright that it had your mother thinking you’d come down with a sudden fever. it was sweet, he’d slipped you his email on a small tear-off bit of paper that he had prepared ahead of time, and you’d replied with the number that directed to the landline beside your bedside table. six months later, you were dating. 

YOU considered that maybe there was a little bit of jealousy bubbling up in your stomach when franco got his seat in formula one. you were so excited that he had finally achieved his dream that you’d turned the cottage you lived in together into a mini celebration: you made breakfast with a side of wine, then hopped on a plane to buenos aires so that he could go see his family about it. 

the one thing you had not expected was just how much he would be loved in the sport . . . by teenage girls. and girls your age. and journalists. and literally anyone who thought he was attractive. he had personality and was so much fun to talk to, but oh my god you did not think that the whole of the internet would start livetweeting about how they wanted to fuck him. 

in all fairness, they didn’t know about the two of you. it was fairly easy to hide when they had such a secluded cottage on royal grounds. your relationship was coming into its seventh year soon, you’d gotten engaged in january, and somehow it was still a secret with how much you two were public figures. 

it had been a few races too many now, and if anything, it had only gotten worse. maybe you were jealous because you hadn’t seen franco since he left for singapore, and the mexican grand prix had just ended. the only thing stopping you from going to instagram and posting a shit ton of photos and videos of you and franco together was the fact that you had just landed in brazil to see him now that you weren’t busy. 

you’d gotten good at the whole lowkey thing after years laying low as a royal trying to go out on dates with franco. all you had to do was toss on one of franco’s hoodies, pull the hood up over your head, and make sure you walked inconspicuously on your own. the bodyguards you had to have with you all dressed super casually also and trailed behind and in front a reasonable distance away until you were outside the airport and loading your bags into the back of a range rover. 

you dropped the hood the second you hopped into the backseat of the car, immediately launching yourself at your fiancé before the door was shut. franco laughed as he peppered delicate kisses across your face, each one more frantic than the last like you would disappear if he were to let go. you vaguely heard the door shut with thanks to the bodyguard walking around to the front seat of the car, and you made a mental note to thank him the moment you were all caught up with franco. “i missed you,” his tone was heavily accented in that voice that you loved so much, that voice that sounded so much better in person than it did in terrible quality over the phone.

“missed you more,” you mumbled softly, breathing in the subtle note of vanilla from his soap underneath the familiar cologne he always wore. you knew that the sooner you fastened your seatbelt, the faster you’d be driven to the hotel, so you hastily clipped it across you and snuggled back into franco’s side. “we are having words when we get out of this car,” you mumbled.

franco’s eyebrows furrowed, “we are?” he asked, and he felt you nod against his side. “right, we are.”

IT WAS NICE TO feel normal again. being with franco equalled feeling like you were a completely other person. you kept him separate and would be until you were married — he obviously didn’t accompany you to family events or royal appearances because you’d worked a deal out with your parents years ago to keep things private just until you were absolutely sure you were spending your life with him. his first public appearance would be your january wedding under glittering snowflakes. 

you were ready to break normal. the feeling had been crawling under your skin for months now, ever since he was called overnight out to italy and kickstarted his new career in being an international heartthrob who everyone was convinced was a playboy bachelor. he was nothing of the sort when he was currently cuddling into your side in his hotel room, half-asleep and trailing his fingertips up and down your thigh. 

“i don’t like seeing what people say about you online, you know,” you dared to finally bring up, months of jealousy trying to break free in your tone. franco could hear remnants of it clear as day, even in his tired state. “i can’t even say anything.”

he knew you weren’t dependent on your phone, it was only ever when he was away that you constantly had it on you to call, text and check F1 updates on twitter. at this point, the whole reason you had a phone was for him. of course you were in tune with what people were saying about him online. did you enjoy watching the tiktok edits people made? yes. that did not help your case in the slightest, though. “aw, baby,” he hummed, “what would you say?”

“that you’re my fiancé,” the label was still so new, so warm across your tongue. franco’s smile was immediate at the sound of it. “not theirs.”

“aw,” he cooed, “is someone a little jealous?” you groaned instantly, moving to push away from him. franco quickly sprung like some kind of trap, suddenly so awake as he wrapped his strong arms around you to hold you in place. “you are!” he laughed. “you are jealous!”

“. . . maybe,” you admitted, caving a little quicker than you liked. “it is hard not to be, no? look at all the attention you get from everyone else while i sit at home and have to watch.”

it had always been a difficult situation, he experienced the same jealousy on occasion, too. whenever you’d go to events with your family and were greeted by other nobles close in age to you or you were overly polite at fundraisers and celebrations, he saw it all when he turned on the tv or simply went online. it was so simple: your relationship wasn’t public – really, it was your own collective fault.

“we won’t have to deal with this for much longer,” he mumbled, and you felt each exhale brush through your hair; a soothing lullaby for you only. “january isn’t too far—”

“i don’t want to wait,” the words tumbled from your lips before you could even think about them. “i know we talked about it . . . but what if we just— just, i don’t know,” you stuttered uncharacteristically, shyly. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this way. “i don’t know.”

“you do,” franco kept his voice low, a gentle murmur that had you melting into his embrace impossibly further. “talk to me.”

your mouth fell open and then closed, then did it once more. you supposed it couldn’t be anymore embarrassing than that one time you had to admit that you liked him in front of four middle-aged bodyguards in a playground. that had been bad. this should be nothing. “i don’t want to hide anymore.” franco remained silent. “i want to hold your hand like . . . like how lily and alex get to,” it was the first example to come to mind, having seen them through lily’s account on instagram last grand prix. “but,” you quickly added, “if you don’t want to—”

“of course i want to,” franco chuckled to himself, “i wanted the privacy for you more than i wanted it for me.” he admitted it in a way that you knew wasn’t meant to make you feel guilty, but you couldn’t really help but feel your heart sink a little in your chest. 

franco could feel the sudden drop, your souls intertwined long ago. “. . . that sounded terrible, i know,” he poked his fingers into your side, pulling gasped giggles from you. “but you’re technically more famous than i am,” there was subtle tease in his tone among the seriousness, “i wanted what was best for you, you know that.”

“mhm,” you hummed in thought, tapping your fingers against his. “i just don’t think i can wait anymore. i want to watch you in person, especially while you are at williams now. i don’t want to miss it.” you were his second biggest fan behind his family, and who knows when he would get the chance to drive a formula one car again? if you missed this now, you’d never forgive yourself for it. 

“okay,” he nodded, very chill about the whole thing. it wasn’t surprising, you knew he didn’t mind in the slightest. exposing your relationship just meant that he got to show you off to the world as if he were the luckiest man alive. showing you off to his close friends and family wasn’t enough anymore, and here you were giving him the chance. “how do you want to do this?”

the one thing you sadly couldn’t do was just show up with him when he was at the track. you sadly had to have at least two people with you for protection as your parents wished, and so more arrangements would have to be made and it would be a whole bigger deal than it should be. 

“hm . . .” you thought, trailing off as your hand slowly inched towards where your phone was sitting on the bedside table. “i have an idea.”

“can you do it later?” franco asked with a tired smile, sitting up to pull the blankets over the two of you and settling his neck to rest against your neck. “i want your attention now.”

“mhm, my love,” you turned your head to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head, his soft curls tickling your lips. “get some sleep, i love you.”

“i love you more,” his voice reverberated against your skin, rumbling through into your chest. “so, so much more . . .” he trailed off into slow breathing, falling into an instantaneous sleep — the sleep he only managed to get when you were tucked safely into his side.

princessofdenmark: can u guys pls stop hitting on my fiancé now

[deadtower]

anyone else seeing a lot of weird christian shit on socmed recently

[fingertipsmp3]

That last post just reminded me of something honestly mind-boggling that that friend did

[ckret2]

So a while ago some friends were talking about fans who claim the Same Coin theory is canon. And I made the mistake of saying:

Do you know who also has tons in common with Bill? Mabel. Yet nobody claims Bill reincarnated as Mabel. …wait now I want a "same coin but it's Mabel" AU. Funniest Bill reincarnation option. The all-seeing arsonist is making macaroni glitter art. The omnipotent tyrant is crying because a unicorn called her a bad person.

And then I overthought it for two months.

So—AU where after death, Bill's soul shoots 13 years into the past and reincarnates as Mabel. I'll call it ✨ Sparkly Coin AU ✨

Don't leave yet. Lemme show you why it works. Behold the eerie amount of parallels in their personalities, dialogue, behavior, mannerisms, tastes...

I could have kept going but my attention span ran out. All right, we all on board now? Convinced we could segue from one personality into the other? Great. Now here's why you should be interested: the juicy post-Weirdmageddon angst potential.

As long as a small fringe of the fandom still thinks Weirdmageddon is Mabel's fault, why not amp that up x100 and have some fun with it?

Is everyone sold now? Great. Let's get into the details. I've got 8 more pieces of art under the read more.

So the AU starts the instant Bill dies. Thanks to invoking his deal with the Axolotl—one way to absolve his crime, a different form, a different time—the Axolotl gives him a new shape and shoots him thirteen years into the past. Apparently, the Axolotl thought it would be very funny to stick Bill in the family that defeated him.

Which probably made for a jarring transition.

(It's fine, she's like 10 minutes old, she probably can't even tell who she's looking at. Not being able to tell who she was looking at is what got her into this situation ayyyy)

When Dipper & Mabel come back from Gravity Falls complaining about this triangular jerk Bill, their parents mention that Dipper's name was nearly Bill. See, after they knew they were going to have a boy, one night their mom dreamed about a visitor—some kind of magic pink salamander??—calling her child "BILL." Then at the next sonogram they found out they were having twins, the girl must've been hidden at a weird angle the first time, and they wanted matching names, so they thought, Bill and Bell. But they didn't really like Bell; but eventually they stumbled on Mabel, so to keep the names matching they switched from Bill to Mason. Isn't that the darnedest thing?

(Of course, Mabel and Dipper assume Bill harassed their parents to try to trick them into naming a kid after him. To be a jerk.)

When Bill meets Mabel, he's unaware that she's his future self—Bill's notably bad at doing things like, say, double-checking to see whether he's going to die anytime soon—but like... he can tell something's up.

Naturally, before visiting Gravity Falls, there were echoes of who Mabel used to be—but nothing anyone would be able to identify without context. All her Bill-ish quirks either smoothed out with time (see: how between second grade and fourth grade Mabel went from being the "freak" to the popular girl in class), or else they were accepted by her family as Mabel-ish quirks.

After they meet (and kill) Bill, they have the context to understand some of Mabel's behaviors... and unfortunately, some of Mabel's latent Bill-ness starts surfacing after she's been directly exposed to her prior incarnation.

The part of the Pines family familiar with Bill thinks the worst case scenario is that maybe Bill's survived and is slowly possessing Mabel; but far more likely, they think this is just some weird way of trying to subconsciously process last summer. Mabel doesn't think she's being weird, you guys are being weird, stop giving her weird looks. They get attacked by one triangle and now she can't wear yellow or pick up macrame as a hobby??

(It's not all red flags and uncomfortable triangle imagery, though. When Stan asks her what she'd like as a gift for some important event, she shyly admits that she thinks she's starting to outgrow her plastic gem jewelry and maybe she's old enough to get her first piece of real gold jewelry, if that's not too expensive? And Stan's never been so proud of her. Thirteen years old and already thinking about buying gold!)

But of course, the real fun starts when Mabel finds out.

That's the face of a girl who's just discovered that she tortured her great uncle. Now imagine running into the brother she possessed.

But I've already spent a million words and thirteen images on this post. If enough folks are interested in the AU maybe I'll expand on it later. Let me know what y'all think.

[bugtistic]

I think one of the absolute most frustrating things for me personally about the current climate crisis / late stage capitalism hell is that ontop of people just outright denying it and acting like the rising temperatures are normal- there’s been like. A VERY noticeable decline in the amount of insects yearly. As someone who goes out of my way to see bugs, every single year for the past decade there has been a sharp decline in bugs. What used to be fun filled summer months running around, catching grasshoppers and petting caterpillars… there’s nothing. I’ve seen one grasshopper this year. I’ve not seen a single caterpillar! It’s currently the ant nuptial flight season in my area and I’ve seen 0 winged ants. They used to all but infest my home during flight season

I remember as a kid, I used to excitedly find ladybug larvae, and I’d relocate them to plants covered in aphids. But I’ve seen one ladybug in the past 5 years, and 0 larvae. I’ve not even seen any aphids. It’s so tangible, it’s so noticeable to me as someone who considered this my absolute favourite season to do my favourite activity in. And I know if the bugs are dying off, other things that eat those bugs are to.

And the absolute worst part? When I tell people about this, the average reaction is ‘good!’. A lot of people will express joy over there being less bugs in the world. Most will express how they’re glad they’ve been experiencing less mosquitos and I want to just grab by the shoulders and shake them and yell TONS OF BUGS JUST DISAPPEARING SHARPLY OVER THE YEARS IS NOT A GOOD THING !!

Anyways. Fellow entomology nerds, have any of you also noticed a drastic decrease in bugs you’re finding yearly or is my area just in a bug deficit.

[laligraves]

a wedding in june

cult leader!joel miller x virgin fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~3.2k summary: You run from Joel on your wedding day. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), some proofreading, post-outbreak, commune/cult vibes, arranged marriage, mentions of infected/gore/violence, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, some face slapping, loss of virginity (and some pain associated to that but only a few sentences), outdoors sex, oral (f! receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: i promise i have other ideas rattling in my brain besides dubious consent 😭 i have a whole wip chart with tons of ideas that i hope i can write

You run faster at the sound of shouts behind you. Sweat drips down your temples and fear makes your heart beat erratically, but you don’t dare stop. 

The outer gates are only a few more hundred feet away. All you need to do is get past the trees and you’ll be able to escape. You don’t have time to think about how this will be your first time venturing outside of the commune. 

Everything you were taught about the outside, about the orphaned souls and monsters that lurk, none of that matters. Not when you’re more terrified at what your future will bring.

Joel Miller. The man who in just a few months, cleared away the hundreds of infected in the nearby valley. Joel, who in the commune’s monthly hunting trips, manages to find everything from venison to medication. 

The times you’ve been close enough to Joel, to feel the heat emanating off his body, you can almost taste the violence that simmers beneath his skin. Instead of it scaring you, like it would any sane person, it excites you. 

The longing in his gaze whenever he looks at you makes you dizzy. There’s a pulse of heat between your thighs each and every time, one that will only go away after you ride your pillow until exhaustion. Whenever you face him again, after you’ve dreamed of him taking you, you wonder if he knows what you do in the privacy of your room. 

There’s no denying that he’s saved this commune from the brink of starvation. Of course everyone, including you, is grateful for the kindness of a stranger. But in the months he’s been here, their gratitude has turned into pure devotion. 

Your parents practically pushed you into his arms the moment Joel asked about you. Normally quite level headed, your parents have begun to treat Joel like a God. You thought Joel would find their insistence of marriage off putting, that he would be an honorable man and let you choose your own path in this place.  

You were wrong. 

Your parents saw it as an honor that out of all the women in the commune, Joel chose you. The books and pretty dresses he finds on his trips are only a sign of how devoted a husband he will be, at least that’s what your mother tried to tell you.  

And the times you tried to speak to Joel and get him to rethink this marriage? Don’t worry about it, pretty girl, was all he would say before he’d send you off. 

You can imagine him in your bed and fantasize about him in your dreams, but to be his wife? Especially now that he’s been chosen to lead the commune—you want nothing to do with that. 

A denser path to your right has you changing directions, wishing to throw them off your trail. You can still make it if you run through here. 

Except it’s too late. Strong arms grab and push you into the lush grass. 

“No,” you scream, “let me go!” 

“What’s wrong with you,” Joel snaps, “don’t you know what’s out there?” 

“I don’t care,” you scream out childishly, “I’d rather be out there than be with you!” 

He climbs on top of you, grabbing your wrists in one hand and pressing them above your head into the grass. He leans on your thighs to keep you still and grabs your chin with the other hand. 

“Listen to me,” he insists, “you don’t know what you’re sayin’. You know nothin’ of what life is like outside these walls.” 

He digs his fingers into your cheeks and shakes your head slightly since you refuse to look at him. 

“Joel, did you find her?” your father calls out from a distance. 

“Yeah, I got ‘er.” 

“Great, let’s go back and finish the celebration–” 

“No,” Joel calls out. 

“Joel–” 

“Leave,” Joel interrupts. 

He continues sitting on you, putting most of his weight on your trembling body. The white dress you're wearing, a satin piece that he found on their last hunting trip into the town, rides up dangerously close to your panties. 

“I need to teach you a lesson in respect, wife,” Joel growls. 

He stands and just when you think you can escape again, he yanks you up with him. Joel holds your arm tight with one hand while taking off his belt with the other. He spins you around and brings your wrists behind your back, using the belt to bind them together. 

“You wanna see what’s out there? Since you think you’re so tough?” Joel asks, not waiting for an answer and instead dragging you to the gate. “I do everything to make this place safe for you, darlin’. But this is how you repay me? Runnin’ off at the first chance you get?” 

You’re surprised at his words and the sincerity of his voice. He sounds almost… sad. 

“Practically beggin’ to be out there with those fuckers instead of me?” he continues, “The only man who can truly protect you?” 

You reach the gate and your heartbeat picks up again. You’ve never been out this far. In fact, you’re acres away from the actual commune. While the gates are secure and regularly enforced, you can’t help but feel truly terrified that something will grab you just outside these barriers.  

“I’m sorry, Joel–” 

He stops, spinning you around and landing a hard slap, slap, slap on your ass. 

“You address me as sir.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you cry out, “I learned my lesson. Let’s–let’s go back.” 

Joel ignores you, choosing instead to march you right to the gate. He keeps one hand on your arm and uses the other to maneuver the many locks and wires on the barrier door until it finally opens. 

“No, please! I said I was sorry! I wasn’t thinking!” 

He drags you out and for the first time in your life, you’ve left the commune. Despite only a metal gate separating both sides, this area seems devoid of life. 

He walks and walks until you wonder if you’ll pass out from the panic. You fall to your knees and Joel crouches right in front of you. 

“Your daddy ever tell you about the infected?” Joel whispers, tilting your chin up with his index finger. “How they’ll bite and rip into any part of your flesh.” 

“No, please,” you whimper. 

He drags a finger down your neck and over your exposed collarbones, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Your nipples tighten as he glides his finger over one breast and then the other. 

“Once they’re done with you, if there’s anything left, then you become just as mindless and violent as them. Forever lost–” 

“Sir–” 

His hand tightens around your neck, cutting off your words. 

“It’s not just one, babydoll. They like to travel in hordes. Makes it easier to find their victims.” 

Your air supply thins and blood rushes to your ears. You squeeze your thighs unconsciously as the pulsing between them only grows. Joel ghosts his lips over yours and your eyes flutter closed without thinking. 

“But it’s not just them,” he whispers over your lips, “there’s non-infected out there. People who won’t think twice about hurtin’ a pretty girl like you. Killin’ ya’ just for fun.” 

You’re not sure who kisses who first. It’s not the chaste kiss the two of you shared at the altar. It’s rough and has you pressing your body close to his so you can take every swipe of his tongue or bite from his teeth. He continues holding your neck, lightly squeezing so you have no other choice than to gasp for air. 

You fall back at the push of his hand on your chest. He flips you on your side to untie his belt from your wrists. You attack the moment your hands are free, sliding your hands through his salt and pepper hair and tugging him down.

Joel hisses but returns each of your kisses and bites with his own. You hear the squawk of a crow from above and you're immediately reminded of where you are. 

“Wait, sir,” you gasp, “not here. Take me back to your–our house–” 

He drags his teeth down your neck, rubbing his beard into your soft skin and biting down. 

“Thought you’d rather be out here than with me?” he says, repeating your words from earlier.  

“No,” you whimper, trying to push him off, “not here. I–” 

He reaches your chest and sucks your nipple into his mouth right over your dress. Your words are cut off and you're arching your back, trying to push more into his mouth. 

Joel makes room between your thighs and grinds down as you twist his wavy strands of hair between your fingers. His hard bulge rubs over your pussy and your whimper at the roughness.

He pinches your other nipple between two fingers then leans back to tug down the straps of your dress. Warm, summer wind glides over your now naked breasts and you shiver. 

“Look at these pretty tits,” he groans, “all mine.” 

Joel yanks the skirt of the dress over your tummy and runs a finger up and down your panty-covered pussy. You shamelessly grind down on his hand and cry out the moment he lands a harsh slap. 

“Please,” you beg with what's left of your sanity, “take me home.” 

With the same technique as before, Joel holds both wrists in one hand and uses the other to rip your panties off. You try to close your thighs from the sting of the elastic, but he’s quick to stop you. 

“Christ,” he whispers, “now ain’t that a beauty.” 

With two fingers, Joel swipes through your slick folds and brings them up to his mouth.   

“Mmm, sweet girl. Needa taste of this pussy.” 

“What do you mean—“

You try to remind Joel of just where the two of you are, but he fits his broad shoulders between your thighs and fuses his mouth to your pussy. 

You’re surprised, stunned silent by the heat of his mouth on your most intimate parts. You’re by no means ignorant of what a husband does to his wife—you’ve read enough of the romance books your mother keeps hidden in her bedside table and heard enough stories from your friends to have an idea of what happens on a wedding night. 

But never did you imagine it would feel like this. His beard and mustache only heighten the sensitivity between your thighs. The setting sun and the dense forest that surrounds the two of you should add to your terror, but Joel manages to put your attention elsewhere. 

His tongue lashes repeatedly over your clit and down to tease your entrance. You throw your head back onto the grass and stare through blurred vision at the purple sky, uncaring of where you are and of what creeps in the dark. 

He’s greedy, eating away at you like you're the last meal he’ll ever have. You’re slick and sticky, painting his face with your juices, making it easy for him to push a thick finger into your entrance. 

The stretch burns, but he calms you with a swipe of his tongue on your clit and the vibrations of his moans on your skin. 

“Your parents were right, you are a virgin,” he groans, pushing on the little piece of thin flesh that separates the rest of you. “Gonna be a tight fit, baby.”

You have no time to think about when your parents had that conversation with him. Instead, you're dumbfounded at the size of his fingers. You whine, unsure of what exactly you're asking, but nonetheless chanting more, more, more into the air. 

Joel manages to slide a second finger, curving them and pressing on something bumpy that makes you twitch and see black dots in your vision.

He stretches and scissors his fingers in your tightness, opening you up more and sucking your swollen button between his lips. Just when the heat is about to consume every inch of your body, he stops. 

“No,” you whine, trying to yank his head back to your thighs. 

Joel dodges your hands and laughs at the desperation written all over your face. He leans down, pressing his wet face to yours in a sloppy kiss, forcing you to suck on his tongue. Riding your pillow doesn’t compare to this.  

Just as before, Joel rips away and catches your wrist right when you reach for him. 

“If you woulda been a good girl, I woulda eaten this virgin pussy till mornin’,” he says while unbuttoning his jeans. “Made you ride my face and cum as many times as you wanted.” 

You barely understand how someone could ride a face, and yet you clench and gush around nothing, wanting his mouth or fingers back. You see the dark, curly hair at his base before he pulls out his length. 

“But for bein’ a brat, I’m gonna make you come on my cock instead.”

The tip is swollen and leaking a white-ish liquid that makes your mouth water at the sight. He lets go of your wrist and gently slaps your face. 

“Are you listenin’ to me, girl? I won’t fuck you if you ain’t payin’ attention.” 

“Y-yes, sir. I’m listening.” 

Joel laughs once again, noticing the dazed look in your eyes. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make it fit.” 

There’s a craving inside of you, one that has you suddenly feeling so empty, that if he doesn’t fill you with his cock you think you’ll die. You repeat the word over and over in your head. 

You’ve read it more than enough times and heard it through hushed giggles from your friends, yet the way Joel says the word, the way he squeezes and twists his hand over his cock, you finally understand what the word truly means. 

Your fingers and the handle of your hairbrush were never able to give you what you so desperately seeked. You always stopped before you went in too deep, never able to take that final push inside.

He spreads open your thighs and you lean up on your elbows to try to catch a glance at what he’s doing. You see your sticky fluids stuck on your inner thighs and over the tip of his cock. He pushes in just an inch, and you gasp at the thickness. 

“Fuck, tight little thing,” Joel moans. “Need you to beg f’me, baby.” 

“Please, please, sir,” you answer quickly, “please, I–I want it!” 

He sinks in another inch, his face pinching in barely controlled restraint. 

“Say–fuck, say ‘I need your cock, sir’.”

The words are caught in your throat as you try to adjust to his size. Joel doesn’t like that you take too long to answer and slaps your cheek. 

“Answer me.” 

“I need your–your cock, sir,” you whine. 

“Again, fu–again,” he demands. 

You try your best to repeat his words, except he’s too far gone now. There’s a pinch, a rip of thin flesh and suddenly he’s sliding all the way in. You claw at his arms and at the grass to get away but he’s gripping your thighs, pressing deeper and whispering take it, pretty girl and you ain’t getting away from me.  

You feel full, so incredibly full. You’re split open, ripped apart just for him. 

“I know, baby. I know,” Joel coos, “it’ll hurt only for a minute.” 

His thumb rubs tiny circles on your clit and he leans over to press kisses on your eyelids and cheeks, licking away the tears that fall. 

The stretch burns, but his groans of pleasure and his gentle kisses have a warm glow spreading through your body. Joel notices the change in you and glances down to watch your hips move in small circles. 

“There we go, baby,” he moans, “knew you’d like it.”

He pulls out slowly, keeping eye contact with you and watching each pinch of your brow and flutter of your eyelids. 

“Saved this pretty cunt just f’me, yeah?” 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, pushing away the sweaty curls from Joel’s forehead. 

He picks up the pace, curling his hand behind your knee and pushing it into your chest, arranging you like a doll. The pain now completely gone, you lay there, running hands over his arms and watching the sweat drip down his temples. 

Every slide of his cock kisses the very end of you. Your hips move and twist on their own accord and you have no choice but to cry out into the night sky. 

“Takin’ this–this big cock like a good girl, yeah?” Joel groans, watching his cock plunge in and out of your little hole. “Need you–fuck, need you to say you’re mine, baby.” 

“I–I’m yours, sir,” you whine, feeling a twinge in your core, “yours, yours, yours.” 

You dig your fingers in his neck and drag him down for a kiss. He grunts as you bite deep enough to draw blood. 

The thoughts from earlier, about running away from him, leave your mind. Even if it hurts a little, even if you aren’t prepared to be a wife, this is exactly what you need. And you won’t let anyone else have him.

“You gonna cum, girl? Gonna cum on your husband’s big cock?” 

This time he doesn’t stop you. His hand squeezes your neck and he traps you into the ground, pistoning his hips into your slick cunt. Your oxygen lessens and your cumming, numbness and white heat spreading throughout your body. 

“Just like that, baby,” Joel growls, “soak my cock.” 

You're gushing on him, painting the hair at his base with sticky juices. You tremble in his arms and claw at the hand that squeezes your neck. Joel doesn’t let up, fucking into your limp body, loving the way you mewl underneath him.  

He moves in short thrusts, stiffening and letting out an animalistic grunt into the night sky. He presses his head into your neck, sucking and biting into your soft skin while he spills his seed inside of you.

"Take my cum, baby. Take it, take it," Joel moans.

You clench around him, massage his cock with your inner muscles. Every drop of his cum belongs deep inside of you. 

With the little strength left in your body, you run your fingers through his hair. Joel's hands move to grip your thighs and he grinds down, spilling the last of his cum into your cunt.

"You belong to me," Joel whispers. "Don’t ever run again."

You lay there in the grass, breasts bare and pussy full of your husband's cock.

"I won’t," you promise. 

Joel leans back and slowly slips out. There’s a twinge of red mixed with his cum that he wipes up with your ripped panties. He lays down next to you and brings you in close so that your head is placed on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat and the sounds of crickets around you.

You think about the long way back to Joel's–well now your house too–and then you remember exactly where the two of you are.

"Sir, we're outside of the gates what if something or someone comes–we don't have any weapons–"

“There’s another gate a few miles out," he interrupts, "I installed it for extra protection around this place.” 

You drop your head on his chest from relief and exhaustion. Joel rubs a hand down your back and squeezes your arm. 

“I’d never put you in harm's way, pretty girl.”

-

general taglist: iloved1lfs0

ps: i know that there has been other cult leader!joel fics but in no way shape or form have i copied those works for this. if there is something major in my work that sounds similar to someone else's, it's purely by coincidence. i respect each person who takes time out of their day to write FREE content and the last thing i'd do is steal their storylines 🤍🤍🤍

[cheyisagirlkisser]

. ✦ .R U Mine? FWB Ellie x Reader. ✦

Content: JACKSON ELLIE X FEM! READER, Alcohol consumption, friends with benefits, mentions of casual sex, some angst, Cat is Ellie's ex-girlfriend in this fic, making out in the rain, nipple play (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), scissoring, happy ending this is definitely an emotional roller coaster though, set in TLOU universe in which reader and Ellie are young adults, Joel is still alive and mentioned, Jesse and Dina are in a relationship in this, I know the pic is Seattle Ellie but this is still set in Jackson.

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: I know I literally just said I'd be releasing this in a week, get tricked. (I spent hours editing to finish this but it was so worth it)

Description: Ellie has always been bad with emotions. Dina tells you that what seems like everyday at this point. Still, you can't help but notice the way she leaves the morning after your nights together. You can feel the tension in the way she pretends like nothing happens during patrol together. Just when you think you finally have the situation figured out, it blows up in your face.

 "How drunk are you?" Dina's voice echoes in your head, making you turn away from your current view and back onto the current conversation.

"Uhhhhhh…..however drunk you want me to be?” You giggle at Dina’s failed attempt to stifle a laugh.

“You are so doomed tomorrow..don’t you have patrol with Jesse?! And I thought you were gonna try to go talk to Ellie and make things less awkward..” Dina looks at you more sternly now.

You groan. “It’s not like it’ll even fuckin’ matter, she’ll just ignore me like she always does. Like she’s doing right now.” 

You know that was a bit over dramatic, but it’s not untrue. Ellie and you have been seeing each other - no, fucking, for the past few months. Every single time you’re in public together, she mostly acts weird towards you, feigning disinterest. The act she puts on is hard to believe when she’s between your legs making you cum your brains out the next day. It’s not like you don’t understand the difference between love and lust. You absolutely understand it, especially in a place like Jackson where getting attached to someone can be riskful. However, Ellie is never a quick fuck-and-leave. Not only is the sex amazing, but she tells you things in the voice she limits for only you to hear, and things she says never make you wonder if she means them. Her actions, however, have you lost. 

Ellie was a friend before all of this. She was no childhood friend who grew up with you but simply someone who you connected to well, and well was an understatement. You know almost everything about her, from her favorite rations to bring on long supply runs to her shower routine. Now, the two of you are really at a limbo; the patrols since the first hook-up have all been awkward, with Ellie being extremely quiet or overly nice, which may seem like a good thing but once again you know Ellie. She has never been the type to keep her mouth shut and clean. The crude jokes and sarcasm are your favorite pieces of her personality, and you just assumed at first that it was just her getting used to the dynamic. However, as time continues, it is still just as weird, and the two of you are hooking up just as often. 

Currently, you’re wasted to no ends at a party in Jackson you wish you didn’t even go to. Of course, Ellie’s here joking around with Jesse in the far left of the backyard like nothing is weird between the two of you. Again, it may be dramatic, but you just hate the fact that you have to keep it all a secret from everyone. (You told Dina as soon as it happened, but that’s because you can’t keep secrets from your best friend!) You know that from the beginning, it was always supposed to be sex and a friendship. Both of you didn’t want a ton of commitment, but that changed overtime as the hook-ups started to last longer and the aftercare went from sitting in bed together to holding each other like lovers do. Dina warned you that Ellie isn’t good with her feelings, but it causes bitterness within you when she kisses the top of your head the other night then refuses to even say hi to you at a party.

You sigh, turning your attention back away from Ellie once more and onto Dina, who is trying her best to lecture you on why you should just talk to Ellie instead of letting the situation get so awkward, but you’re not really hearing her. You’re not typically a melancholic drunk, but Ellie really has a knack for bringing that side out of you, especially when she’s halfway across the yard talking Jesse’s head off and refusing to make eye-contact. Every time she laughs, it stabs at your heart. Not because she’s happy, but because you want to be the one to cause that feeling in her. You want to be the reason she smiles and giggles, you want to hear all of the swear words she wants to say and the stupid jokes she likes to come up with. You honestly miss her, and you know it’s stupid that you even fell for her, but you hope that someday things will at least be normal once more. Not that you wanna lose the sex, though.

Dina drags you over to the mentioned group and forces her boyfriend Jesse to escort you home. You don’t argue back. You’re too sad to argue and it’s embarrassing to be on the verge of tears as Ellie’s silence next to is continued.

-

You can’t help but think of Ellie, even when you’re all snug in your bed and half-conscious. It’s the memory of her face as you walked away and how she glanced over to you but never spoke up. She would have made your day so much better with a simple ‘hello.’ It’s not her fault, you tell yourself. It was never ever her fault but yours. Still, you feel so bitter wondering where it all went wrong for you. 

Usually, you never experienced such a level of attachment to one person. It’s not like love was new and you were far from a virgin when you and Ellie first hooked up, but something about her is engraved in your head and you just can’t escape it. You picture the button-like curve of her nose and the way light reddens her hair, a color that is almost impossible to make out in the confines of the indoors. Sometimes, you wonder if Ellie was born to be part of nature. She smells so Earthly and the way she moves, converse padding through grass, it’s like when you see someone practicing a hobby meant for them: you just know it’s meant to be that way. You used to love going on patrol with her for that reason, to be able to see her so comfortably scavenging and on Shimmer’s back. Now, it’s stiff and awkward, and the sense of fate that you feel when seeing her do what she is so naturally good at is challenged by her distance. 

Deep within your thoughts, you’re pulled out by a creak and the sound of your window opening. You quickly sit up, attempting to dry your tears with your sleeve when you see Ellie clumsily diving into your bedroom. Usually in the circumstance of being angry with someone, you know that you would tell them to fuck off. Ellie, however, cannot be told that. Her charm on you is far too wrapped around you like vines to concrete and so you laugh even through the tears. 

“Your window is fuckin’ narrow, you know.” 

“I wouldn’t know. I use the front door.” Despite the snark in your words, your voice cracks slightly as you sniffle and try to hold back the hot tears. 

Ellie sighs, and you can tell she is holding back. You hate this, the way conversation still flows at little points in time before continuing onto becoming nothing but awkward, stiff silence. Ellie surprises you and moves quickly to sit on your bed near you, pulling you into her arms. 

You know you shouldn’t crumble, but you do. Her embrace is so warm despite the fact that tomorrow it’ll be non-existent, and so you cling onto her while you still can. Your tears dribble down your cheeks and onto her shirt where the material grows damp. She only holds you tight, not making any further moves. Somehow, that is worse than the latter. The idea that this is what the relationship (if you can even call it that) has become is so emotionally involved, now there is no doubt that there is more, but there won’t be in the morning. 

You grieve the moment for what it could’ve been and fall asleep in Ellie’s arms as she coos you so softly, whispering sweet reassurances, only taking your tears as drunken sadness and not for what it was - her own doing. 

When you were once a young girl, you found comfort in the sound of clocks. The rhythmic tick, tick, tick lulled you to sleep. Now, you awake to the same ticking coming from the round clock mounted on your wall by a nail behind it. The familiar sunlight is plastering the bed in patterns much like time itself, telling you that the day is ahead of you and that you cannot sleep it off for much longer. Of course, Ellie’s presence is lacking. She left before you woke up. It hurts more than the other times that you opened your eyes to see that the girl you slept with the night before had left you, because she held you so dearly the previous night in a way that is always more than friendly or sexual. The inbetween of that must be hard for her to differentiate. 

You arrive at the East gates around 8 am, and Jesse is there waiting for you with a polite smile on his face. 

“Hey. You ready to head out?” 

“Yeah, sorry if I’m running a bit late.”

Jesse lets out a small laugh at that. “I won’t hold you to it. You were pretty hammered last night.” 

You avoid his teasing gaze, knowing full-well his words ring true. You were embarrassingly drunk last night, and you probably said some things to him that you don’t even remember now, but he definitely does. 

“You act like you weren’t drinking too!” 

“Oh, please. I’ve been drunk but not that drunk. You were white-girl wasted.” 

That makes you laugh, but at the same time your heart clenches along with your uneasy stomach. That’s a term one freckle-faced girl is known for saying because of Joel. 

“Can we just get on with patrol now?” Jesse rolls his eyes at your whiny tone and short dismal, but nods anyway and begins to signal for the guards to open up the large gates. You sigh, taking reluctant steps out of Jackson along with him. “My head’s killing me and I need to get this over with so that I can go home and nap.”

The first 30 minutes of patrol goes just as expected, the trek to the neighborhood you were assigned to clear and search through is long and boring. Jesse isn’t much of a talker when it comes to patrols, usually sticking to professionalism. That doesn’t surprise you much. While Jesse likes to drink and have a good time, he’s always taken patrol seriously. You recall countless times you’ve heard him scold other people for not taking their work seriously enough, and you partially understand. The lives of the people in Jackson all count on each other to do their jobs efficiently. Still, you know that patrol can be boring and nerves can be high. Sometimes, people just need to have a bit of humor in their lives to keep things from getting too grim. Afterall, leading an overall grim life as a patroller is no way to live. It’d tear your spirit out, starting from the inside. 

However, as you reach the building, Jesse stops in his tracks. His usual disposition is broken and he turns to you with a sigh. 

“Listen..” He struggles to find the words, “I just wanted to talk to you about something that I’ve noticed.”

You hope this isn’t going where you think it is. “Yeah?”

“Ellie’s one of my best friends, and I can tell something’s going on between the two of you, even if she won’t tell me.” He notices your visible discomfort at the mention of Ellie, but presses on. “I’m just warning you that she’s not good with her feelings. She can be all awkward and weird about them, but you’re a good person. I know she cares about you.” 

You don’t answer immediately, a bit caught off guard by his words. Still, they resonate with you. You’ve heard this from Dina too, but you previously wondered if she was only wanting to give you a soft landing. Dina, as much as you love her, has a tendency to try to avoid hurting your feelings. Jesse is quite the opposite, and you know that what he says has meaning to it. 

“Thanks, Jesse.” You give him a slight smile, and he nods. 

“Just talk to her, okay? You guys are both great. You deserve better than whatever the fuck you’ve got goin’ on.” 

You can’t help but laugh slightly at that despite anxiety churning through you. If Jesse sees potential, why can’t it be realistic to think that you and Ellie have a shot at being more than just friends who often have sex? Why can’t you be girlfriends?

The rest of the patrol is still half better, half worse. You’re anxious about actually talking to Ellie about your feelings and the aching from the previous night hasn’t faded. The task of taking out infected is just as dreadful because you know that in any moment, all of your current problems can become squabble compared to the issue you’d be faced with if a bite were to be imprinted into your flesh. It’d be tragic. Still, you have hope. You carry hope with you that soon, you may get to make some progress with her and get out of this weird spot. You think about that hope every moment that your knife is plunged into the rotten fungi-covered skin of another clicker. 

Before, your plan was to make a bee-line for your own house and sleep off the liquor from the night before, to get some actual sleep. Now, your feet seem to lead you to the path of Ellie’s garage. You’re just ready to see her and get the difficult conversation over with so that you can finally know how she feels.

On the way, your heart races with hope and fear. Questions circle around your head like bees swarming their hive; will Ellie reciprocate your feelings? Even if she does, will she want to actually be in a relationship with you? She may not even feel the same way.. You have to stop yourself from going overboard. As you reach her little garage, you take a deep breath and mentally count the seconds in your head.

Tick, tick, tick…One, two, three..

Everything will be fine. Even if this doesn’t work out, you can at least move on from her and have closure. You can’t help but smile at the thought of no longer having to deal with awkward patrols and weird conversations. Finally, you walk towards the garage door; your steps are faster than before and charged with nerves. Your hands are shaky but your mind is determined. 

You stop yourself from knocking on her door when you hear the sound of laughter.

You recognize the all-too-familiar laughter that belongs to Ellie, of course. It always makes your heart tumble into your stomach upon hearing it. However, you hear another fit of giggles beside hers that cause a clenching in your heart. Was she with another girl…?

You quickly pad towards her window, her curtains opened wide of course. From even just the side, you can see the scene inside of her room. Ellie is sitting in bed with Cat. You feel sick to your stomach at the sight of the girls so effortlessly talking, something Ellie hasn’t bothered to give you in months besides the times you’re in bed together, naked for her. 

Cat is drawing on her arm and it makes you livid with jealousy. You know that she and Ellie dated before. You can’t help but wonder if this is the reason that Ellie holds back from you. Was she really still in love with her ex-girlfriend all of this time? Were you just a rebound to her? 

Your heart breaks within you, and you’re more hurt than you are angry. The frustration is definitely there, though. You don’t bother to knock, storming back off to your home.

-

Ellie knew from a young age who she was. She has a foul mouth, likes nerdy things that others may insult her for, and she likes women. Her sexuality may have been a bit of a spectacle in Jackson. When she and Cat were seen holding hands when they were together, she was forced to get used to the stares thrown at them. They built her up into everything she is today. However, Ellie is nothing if not troubled.

Her emotions aren’t so easily adaptable. Her feelings feel murkier at times and clear at others, yet she cannot convey them in the ways others do. She knows that she is in love with you. She feels an emptiness when she is away from you for too long and wonders if it would be smart to let herself be so honest with you, to risk losing you after spending the rest of her days with you. She struggles to convey all of that, too; what if you find her to be overwhelming? Sex with you may be one thing, but these feelings could scare you away. She can’t lose you. 

Perhaps her lack of proper conveyal pushed you further away from her grasp.

It seems that you won’t talk to her anymore. She can’t pinpoint what is causing the change, but all she knows is that it is all too real. You, for some reason, won’t volunteer to patrol with her anymore. You don’t knock on her door, even if it’s just for that one thing that has been the main foundation of your relationship for the past few months. You lack the softness in your gaze when you’re in her presence; you lack to gaze at her at all. 

Something in Ellie is entirely disheartened by your sudden absence in her life. She knows that she was awkward before, but she genuinely wanted to tell you how she felt about you. She wanted to carve your name into the surface of her heart so that she can only bleed you, as if your hands don’t squeeze at the organ enough. She recalls the times that she’d take deep inhales of your hair after sex just to be filled with your scent. She thinks about the last time she got to hold you and how she left after, just because she couldn’t live with it if you rejected her in the morning. 

For weeks, this avoidance continues. At first, Ellie tries to speak to you. You ignore her or brush her off with short responses every time. After a while, she begins to pull away as well. That is, until you’re walking home in the rain as the crash of thunder surrounds Jackson at all angles. 

Your boots make wet pitter-patter noises as you try your best to hurry back home after a late patrol. The sky is dark, the only source of light is your own flashlight and the dim street-lights that make a path down the street. Unfortunately, your house is so far from the center of Jackson that it requires a longer journey to get home than it does for most people. You live on the outskirts, which can be good for privacy, but not so good for travel. 

You wish that you had brought an umbrella with you earlier before leaving your house. Now, it doesn’t matter. All you can focus on is getting home and not being struck down in lightning. In a world filled with fungi-based zombies, you’d think that something as unique as being fried from a thunderstorm would be the least of your worries. Your steps quicken until they don’t. 

You trip face-first into the gravel, your skin on fire from the sudden harsh tumble. Your clothes are covered in mud and dirty rain water, some pebbles sticking to the soaked fabric. You groan in discomfort, but you’re halted from your progress in rising when you look up to see a frantic Ellie staring down at you. 

“Holy shit, are you okay?! What the hell are you doing out here, it’s raining cats and dogs..” 

Usually, you’d laugh at that joke. Instead, you avoid her gaze and try to stand, wincing at the soreness from the fall and the scrape on your knee left from the sharp gravel. 

“I’m fine. I just got back from patrol.” Your words are so boring and short, it makes Ellie’s heart ache. She misses how things used to be.

“You’re not gonna make it all the way back to your house like this.” She states, and you know she is right, unfortunately. Your clothes leave you feeling like a wet dog, dirty and half-way drenched. Your knee is probably bleeding, and you simply don’t want to walk all of the way home. Still, you’d rather do that than face Ellie after what you witnessed. 

“I can make it, I’ve walked home before.”

Ellie scoffs at your stubborn, dry tone. “Yeah, no shit. But not like this. C’mon, just come back to the garage. You can borrow my clothes and I’ll ask Joel for a first-aid kit.” 

That sounds so like Ellie to offer. You remember countless nights in her garage, some before the whole situation happened when you only played video games and let her read you comics until you were snoring on her couch. You also remember the late nights spent against her, panting as she made you cum in any way she could, only to act as if it didn’t happen the next day. The thought makes you grow bitter. 

“Maybe I don’t wanna go home with you.” You state in a monotone, or at least try to. You pray that she can’t hear the break in your voice, notice how your already wet face is easily splotched with a cluster of tears. 

That makes Ellie’s heart completely squeeze within her body. “But..why?”

“Why?! Because you led me on, Ellie!” 

Ellie’s eyes widen at that. She didn’t expect that. “Lead you on? How..How did I lead you on? I know I was awkward, but I-”

You quickly cut her off, your voice raising with pent-up hurt. “It’s not about your stupid awkwardness! It’s about the fact that I was clearly just a rebound.” 

Ellie goes silent at that. A rebound? What the hell were you talking about? A rebound for who?

“A rebound? What are fuck are you even saying right now..? I never..” Her voice trails off, she’s clearly confused; that only fuels your anger further.

“You only agreed to sleep with me because you wanted to get over Cat. Am I right, or am I right?” Your tone slides from angry to practically livid. Underneath it all is pure heart-break. 

“That’s not even true! I’ve been over Cat for a couple years now and you know that. Why would I still like her after this long?”

“I saw you and her in your stupid garage, Ellie!” As you shout, lightning strikes, causing you both to flinch. You should just turn away and rush inside, rush anywhere indoors. You know that. Still, you’re too focused on all of the hurt inside of you. “I saw her drawing all over your arm and I heard your laughter. You never laughed like that for me unless we were fucking. You never smiled at me like you smile at her, or Jesse, or even Joel for fuck’s sake.” You feel sobs bubble up from your throat and the rain pouring down upon the two of you. “I just wanted you to be happy with me like how you were before. Instead of…just pretending like we were nothing at all.”

Ellie looks like she’s about to argue back, but her words best her. She instead moves to stand in front of you, and even despite the tension and distance between the two of you, you can’t help but think about how beautiful Ellie looks, her soaked bangs glued to her forehead and her clothes soaked, clinging onto her slender form. She cups your face almost hesitantly, her fingers brushing against your jaw as if she’s afraid you’ll push away. She can feel the heat of your tears in contrast to the coldness of the rain water on your wet face. She aches at the difference. 

“Listen to me..please..” Her voice, so soft and intimate, makes you want to do whatever she asks. She is so gentle even as the thunder booms once more, almost making you jolt again. “Cat was only drawing on my arm because I wanted to get a new tattoo, and I’ve been well over her for years now. We might’ve dated when we were young, but all we are now is a friendship. I needed her advice on you. I wanted to know what to do, how to tell you how I feel..” 

You look up at her, your voice hesitant. “And how do you feel?”

She exhales, a shaky and addictive sound. “I don’t want Cat back. I want you back..I miss you. I miss the goofy shit we used to do on patrol.” She chokes out a laugh, ironic for the speech and the nerves she’s feeling from confessing all of this to you. “I miss hearing your laughter, I miss how you smell so lovely even when you live in a fucking apocalypse. I yearn to hear you talk to me. Talk to me about anything. I miss the way you sneeze, the way you stumble over yourself like how you just did and got your damn patrol clothes all muddy.” She takes one final moment to savor your face, to memorize your features right in front of her in case you reject her final confession. “I don’t love Cat. I love you.

Her words hit you so deeply, right in the heart where you need to feel her. You don’t hesitate to lean in and Ellie almost immediately meets your lips in a bruisingly desperate kiss. 

Your hands grasp at her face like she’ll disappear in any moment, fingers finding her hair and pulling at the wet, tangled strands of auburn.. She pulls you closer by the waist and her palm can feel sensations that make her believe this moment is something straight out of a dream. Dots of rain fall upon the both of you as her lips pull your bottom one in between them, making you gasp softly and part your lips. She takes full advantage, slipping her tongue into your mouth. 

The two of you are now impossibly close as your mouths slide against each other so needily, so fervently. Every brush, every wet smack of your lips ignites more than just a fire between the two of you. Ellie is itching to keep you like this, but she desperately misses all of you. She wants to devour you and solidify the fact into existence that you are hers, and you won’t ever doubt her love for you. 

Droplets of rain wetten the kiss further, but they do nothing to prevent the heat of your mouths enveloped, or stop the way the two of you push and pull closer to each other like magnets. The only thing that breaks the kiss is a sudden bolt of lightning rather close to your location. 

Breathless, Ellie’s forehead meets your own. “We should go back to my garage.” You nod, and quickly, the two of you scamper off to Joel’s backyard in which her small place is located. 

Inside, Ellie’s lips meet yours once more, thirsting and full of longing. Damp clothes are pulled off of the two of you; bodies meet each other and you can feel every inch of Ellie against every centimeter of you. Her stiff nipples graze yours, making you shiver despite the warmth of her garage. 

“Say you love me again,” you plead with her so breathlessly.

She doesn’t hesitate to be truthful, not after holding back for so long. “I love you. I love you so much, it hurts.” 

Her lips drag down your neck, her hands guiding your hips to walk back towards her bed. You fall onto the soft mattress and her body quickly follows yours. Each swipe of her tongue over your skin sends sparks of pink electricity through your veins and between your legs. 

“I need you, Els.” You’re panting, a delirious mess and yet more content than you’ve been in a long time. 

“Shh, I’ve got you. I’ll give you all of me. I’m yours now.” 

Ellie’s body is smothering yours, and she has to settle further down to make contact with your tits. Her mouth is all over the soft, bumpy texture of your nipples, lapping at the hardened peaks to send little shudders through your spine. Your body craves her after so long, but you appreciate all she gives you. Her mouth takes its time on each of your nipples, her love so needy and desperate yet savoring. You grasp at her messy hair, trying to pull her up to kiss you.

When her bare weight settles back onto yours, your mouths soon meet for a slower, but just as intense kiss. You take your time to slide your tongue against hers and lick into her mouth, exploring her as if your time here would last forever. Her body involuntarily grinds against yours and though there’s not direct friction onto either of your clits, you still whimper into each other’s throats.

Ellie’s palm slides down between your humid bodies as she distracts you with her tongue swirling against yours, a delicious sensation you can’t seem to find anywhere else. Her fingers suddenly rub at your clit, making you moan into her mouth, an eager sound so easily swallowed.

This isn’t the first time she’s touched you like this, not even the second time. Still, your body reacts as if this is all new. The way she touches you is sloppy and passionate, not anything in comparison to the previous hook-ups in which she was able to make you cum but gave you what was a watered down, held back version. Now she can give you everything. 

The kiss slows, but your lips lingered against each other’s. You can still lick at the taste of rain droplets on her swollen lips; you wish to rub against them so hard that they taste of nothing but your own lips. 

“Inside me, please.” You beg against her lips, sending fizzles of heat throughout her own cunt and making her clench around nothing. 

“Good,” she mumbles against you as she eases two fingers into your moistened hole to elicit a soft, open gasp from your lips, “wanted to feel inside your cunt again. Missed it.” 

Her calloused fingers work you, stretching your walls to ease any discomfort. You don’t know what to focus on with the amount of feelings coursing through your body - the subtle curve of her breasts are visibly if you flicker down, but you can’t seem to do so as you throw your head back onto her pillow and stare up at her ceiling to try and collect yourself; the way her eyes intensely watch over the way you gnaw at your bottom lip with pleasure, biting down when she curls her digits in the most delicious way possible; her mouth painting noticeable hickeys all over your neck, an action you’d usually scold but can only grasp her face for more; the soft ‘love you’s leaving her mouth between suckling. She can’t help but remind you after all of this time.

Her fingers batter your insides repeatedly, fingertips pressing into your spongy spot until you cry her name and your nails are piercing into her skin. Each slide into your walls and the slight retreats sends waves of pure pleasure through your body, your peak being the only thing either of you can focus on. Her eyes look over your face, watch the way your breath recedes as your orgasm bleeds into your stomach and into your head. Each ripple shooting through your walls causes your walls to clamp down onto her fingers as if to hold them inside of you forever. She doesn’t stop pumping into your hole until you physically cannot withstand it any longer. 

“I love you, Ellie.” 

Your words, so saccharine, make her forget about her plan to cuddle with you after making you feel good. She’s now hitching up your leg and pulling hers over your thigh, slotting her neglected and slick cunt between your legs, her folds grinding against yours and causing you to mewl at the sudden sensation against your clit.

“You love me?” Ellie asks, watching as you nod your head eagerly, “bet this pussy loves me just as much,” her words so filthy make you even wetter than you thought was possible in a single night. 

Ellie whines as her clit receives little sparks of friction, the swollen bud savoring each moment of contact with your cunt. 

“Feels so good, h-holy fuck..” You whine, your hips bucking up into hers in small shudders of movements. The pure sloppiness of your pussies rubbing together causes the room to be filled with the sounds of squelching and strained moans, Ellie’s more breathy and yours more pitched. Her hips quiver against yours as she gets closer and close to cumming, her movements more sloppy as your wetness turns into hers, and hers yours. 

“Please, please, please I’m gonna cum, I’m-” Your own orgasm washes over your body, your back rising to accommodate for the sudden intense pleasure. Soon, Ellie’s cumming with you, not hesitating to swallow up your cries with her lips sealed over yours. You can feel each sloppy hump her cunt gives yours, can feel her whines only attempt to leave her throat. All of it has you drunk off of the feeling, possibly even harder than the last orgasm. Her tongue lazily fucks your mouth as she gives a final few sloppy judders to your clit before her body gives in to the utter exhaustion and she settles on top of you. 

Her body, coated in sweat and her pussy, covered in both of your juices, are completely worn out. Ellie’s head finds sanction in the crook of your neck where her breath tickles your purple-splotched skin. You wrap your arms around her, squeezing her tightly. Her leg brushes up against yours and that’s when you noticeably flinch; right, the scraped knee from earlier. 

Ellie quickly pulls herself off of you to  catch sight of your left knee, slightly red with dried blood and clearly tender.

“I’ll take care of that, just lay here and rest, ‘kay” You nod eagerly, wanting to get rid of the burning sensation as quickly as possible. Ellie quickly pulls on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead, her eyes taking a final glance to admire your naked body sprawled out on her bed.. all she can seem to feel now is love for you. “Stay here and I’ll be back soon.”

-

Quickly, Ellie returns to you with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a large adhesive band-aid. Her face is rather irritated. You raise your eyebrows. 

“What’s with the look?”

She sighs, muttering out, “Joel..that’s all.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. Fuck, you missed Joel. You missed watching movies with Ellie on his couch and the popcorn he’d microwave for the two of you to share. You can already tell by her face that he was pretty teasing about her scavenging through his cabinets for first-aid items looking like a hot mess. “I missed him,” you mumble quietly.

“Yeah… He missed you, too.” Ellie unscrews the lid on the alcohol and braces herself to do what she has to do.“This is gonna hurt, okay?” You nod, bracing yourself. Soon, the stinging of the alcohol hits your knee. It’s sudden and makes you wince. Seeing that look on your face makes Ellie want to stop and just hold you tightly, protect you from any harm. When the sting finally fades, you let out a soft sigh. She quickly peels the back of the band-aid off and with gentle but calloused fingers sticks the adhesive onto your scrape. She gives you a soft smile. “There. All good, now.”

You don’t hesitate to smile back, but another thought crosses your mind. “Hey, Ellie..?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is heavy with exhaustion and a noticeable, gentle affection.

“I meant it when I said I loved you.” 

Ellie gives you a toothy grin, a familiar one. “And I meant it when I said it, too.”

“But..I still just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that before, you know?”

Ellie exhales quietly and nods, understanding what you mean. “I was really nervous, okay? I’ve just lost people before,” she leans in closer to you, admiring your eyes which observe her as she speaks, brushing messy strands of hair behind your ear, “I know it’s stupid, but it really is true when you hear people say I can’t handle my feelings well. I get all weird about them and I’m like a social recluse when I have a crush for some reason. As much as I just wanted to be around you, I was scared.” 

Your eyes soften slightly from her words, but curiosity takes over. “Scared of what? I wouldn’t ever hurt you, Els.” 

“It’s more than just getting my heart broken by you.. I mean, I’m scared of losing you physically, too.” She admits quietly. 

Ellie’s fears aren’t irrational. Everyday, people who have lovers, have friends and family are bitten or torn apart in the most gruesome ways possible. That’s always a reason to be cautious to care, but you can’t help but want to disagree with that sentiment. 

“But Ellie, you can’t just be alone with the fear of losing the people you care about,” you argue softly, “if you live your life like that, you’ll never get to have all of anyone. Sometimes, you have to risk losing the person you love so that you can at least have them in every way possible, even if it’s temporary.” 

“I know that, believe me. I’m so damn tired of keeping myself away from you and not fully giving you what you deserve.” Ellie leans down to plant a soft peck to your nose, making you giggle, “you deserve to be loved wholeheartedly and not like how I was doing before..so..” she sighs. “If I asked you to be mine, my girlfriend…would you say yes?” 

Your eyes widen and your heart beats faster. “You really mean that?”

Ellie nods, her cheeks red from earlier activities somehow burning brighter. This time, it’s more from embarrassment and something more childish than previously. 

You giggle and quickly lean up to hug her tightly. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.” Ellie pulls you further in, squeezing you tightly. “You gotta promise to not hold back on me, though.”

She nods, feeling emotions pull at her chest at the feeling of your embrace, of finally having you in her arms without having to think about leaving you in the morning. “I promise.”

The rhythmatic, quiet sound of Ellie’s clock lulls you to sleep as she holds you in her arms. 

Tick, tick, tick. 

This time, Ellie won’t hold back from you when you wake up.

Taglist: @firefly-ace @kaykeryyy

[cevansbrat0007]

Witches' Brouhaha

Summary: Ari saves you from a real-life fright on Halloween night...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Drunk/Abusive Asshole, Mildly Racist/Xenophobic Language, Mentions of Domestic Violence, Angry/Protective Ari, Physical Violence, Face Slapping, Wrestling, Manhandling, Oral Sex (Male rec), Cum Swallowing, Allusions to P in V Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Well, this should be the last of it.” You huff, setting a box of decorations and spare prizes down on the desk in the back of your shop. Wiping your hands on your gown, you turn around just in time to avoid colliding with your friend, Marisol Gonzalez, as she carries in several oversized event posters. 

“Sorry! Comin’ through.” She breezes by you, doing her best not to trip over the hem of her dress.

“Just lean them against the wall.” You tell her, stretching your arms above your head. “Yeah, right there is fine.”

Tonight’s Spooktacular Soiree at the local library had been an overwhelming success. You’d co-hosted the event with Marisol, who also happened to be the town librarian. While it was true that she was a couple years younger than you, you two had become fast friends over the past few months. And when she’d pitched this idea to you over coffee at the end of the summer, you’d known immediately that you wanted to be a part of it. 

It was a family friendly event, complete with music and games, dancing, a costume contest and, of course, books. Tons and tons of books. Talk about a perfect way to spend your Halloween. And you couldn’t have been more pleased with the turnout. 

Which was why, after numerous requests, you were already planning on doing the same thing again next year. Matter of fact, you two are so excited by the prospect, that you’re already discussing ideas when Ari walks in. 

“So, word on the street is that tonight was a smashing success.” You immediately perk up at the sound of him joining you in your office. “Not that I expected anything less from the Wicked Witch of the West and Cleopatra.” The handsome bounty hunter tosses a wink your way. 

“Actually, I’m dressed as Nefertiti.” Marisol corrects him with a smile.

“My mistake.” He amends before reaching for your hand to press a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Eh, no biggie. I gave up trying to explain it to people about an hour into the party anyway.” She tells him with a shrug. “Hey, chica. Should we go check to make sure we got everything out of your car?”

“Yeah.” You sigh before standing up and offering Ari your chair. 

“Need some help, ladies?”  

“Nah. We got it.” You reassure him, rising on your toes to kiss his cheek. “Just keep my seat warm for me, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gifts you with a lazy smile as he slides into your chair, crossing his legs at the ankles. "Hurry back now."

After triple checking that you’ve gotten everything out of your vehicle, you and Marisol return to the warmth and comfort of Baubles & Quills. Still riding the high of tonight’s success, you’re actually in the middle of showing off a new display when you hear the chime of your front door opening behind you. 

“Sorry, but we’re closed. Come back tomorrow…” The words die on your lips the moment you see who the hell just waltzed into your shop holding a bulging pillowcase. 

Although you’re not exactly sure who you were expecting, it was safe to say that this was the last person you wanted to see – especially on a night like tonight. Because standing before you is a man by the name of Dale Edwards.

And it becomes alarmingly clear that he’s drunk as fucking skunk.

“Dale.” You begin, keeping your voice calm and even. “We’re closed right now. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Hell naw.” The pudgy man slurs. “I–I…drove all the way here to deal with your ass now.” His murky gaze strays over Marisol, as if he just realized that you weren’t alone. “And when I’m done with you, I’ma call immigration on Gaudilupe here. Let ‘em know they might want to stop by for a visit.”

Your mouth falls open in shock as Marisol audibly gasps. Even though she spoke with a hint of an accent, the woman was as much of a citizen as you were. Not that she owed anyone an explanation.

Least of all him.

“Get out or I’m calling the cops.” You threaten, wishing you were standing near your panic button.

“Go ahead.” Dale snarls, spittle flying from his mouth. “And I’ll tell ‘em that I wanna press charges against the bitches who tried to corrupt my daughters by giving them pornography!”

“Now that is an absolute lie, Mr. Edwards!” The sweet librarian exclaims. “You know we would never do something like that.”

“Yeah? Well, I…” He shakes his head in an effort to regroup. “I went through their rooms. Got all the evi–evidence right here.” The man shakes the bag. “And I know you tried it again tonight. With families!” His voice grows louder with each word. “Offering candy like you ain’t just invited 'em to dance with the Devil!”

Oh good God, this was not going well.

“Marisol.” You whisper as you look around for a weapon. “There should be a phone right there next to the register. Grab it and dial 911.” 

Unfortunately for you, you make the mistake of taking your eyes off the man for two seconds. Which is why you miss the moment Dale reaches his hand into his bag before chucking the contents in your direction.

Drunk or not, the man proves to have good aim. Which is something you find out the hard way when several pieces of hard candy manage to graze your left cheek, making you scream.

Thankfully, it doesn’t hurt. Much.

Momentarily stunned, all you can do is stare back at him, mouth open, as you try to process what the hell had just happened. 

Because had this man really just thrown a fistful of candy at you? At ten o’clock on Halloween night?

“What the actual fuck–?” Is all you can manage before turning your head to look at Marisol’s equally shocked expression.  

“Um, Dale…I mean Mr. Edwards…I think it’s time you left now.” The sweet librarian tries, holding the phone tighter to her chest. 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He snarls at the same time as one of his pudgy hands grabs ahold of your discount book rack, knocking it over, sending almost two dozen of your precious books crashing to the ground. “In fact, I think it’s high time someone put the fear of God into you two bitch–” Dale falters suddenly, his spine going ramrod straight at the sound of another man’s voice joining the fray. 

A voice that belonged to Ari.

In all the commotion, you’d completely forgotten that he was here – peacefully minding his business while he waited for you to join him in the back of your shop. 

“Just what in the hell is goin’ on out here?” You find yourself breathing a sigh of relief as your bounty hunter’s deep baritone washes over you like a balm.

“D-Dale was just leaving.” You tell him, sparing a quick glance over your shoulder to offer up a reassuring smile.

“Of course he was.” Ari agrees, jamming his hands into the pockets of jeans. “And as soon as he cleans up his mess, Mr. Edwards can be on his way.”

“I ain’t doin’ shit!” The angry man hisses at the same time as you eek out the nervous “that’s okay”.

However, Ari doesn’t really seem all that in the mood to listen. Not after what he just witnessed before you realized he was standing there. In fact, the only reason he hadn’t already personally introduced this drunken asshole to every goddamned wall in your store was because he didn’t want to cause anymore unnecessary damage.

But that also didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

He’s by your side in seconds, his eyes never once leaving the other male’s disgruntled form as his long legs eat up the space between you. 

“You okay, Marisol?” He asks, not bothering to hide the tick in his jaw. 

“I–I’m fine, Mr. Levinson.” 

“Glad to hear it, darlin’.” The bounty hunter takes a second to roll his shoulders, cracking his neck as he does. “Do me a favor. Take that box to the back and ring Bell’s Creek PD for me, would ya? Tell ‘em we’ve got a buddy here waiting for pick up. Go on, now.” He tacks on the last bit when he notices the young librarian hesitate briefly.

She hustles away with a nod. And although she tries to hide it, Ari doesn’t miss the way her lower lip starts to tremble as she makes her way to safety. Shit sets his teeth on edge. So much so, that he doesn’t speak again until he’s confident she’s out of earshot.

“Gotta be honest, fella, I’m about two seconds from breaking your fuckin’ jaw.”

“It’s okay, Ari. Really.” You try once more, bending your knees so you can begin collecting the candy littering your floor. “I can…I’ll tidy this up.”

“Baby.” The danger laced in his silky tone has you halting your movements almost immediately. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Once he’s confident he’s gotten your attention, he returns his attention back to the man at the heart of this disruption. 

“You know what I hate, Dale?” The man at your side grunts, pushing up the sleeves of his thermal to reveal his brawny forearms. 

“This here ain’t none of your business, Levinson.” Your aggressor hisses, spittle flying from his lips. “Hell! This ain’t even your town.”

“Men who act like bullies once they’ve got a little drink in ‘em.” Ari shrugs, continuing on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Especially with women. Really pisses me the fuck off.” 

It’s only then that one of his hands goes to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his stormy gaze. While he was almost certain that you weren’t hurt, you knew there was a part of him that needed to see for himself. And although it’s hard, you manage to resist the urge to lean into his touch. 

“I run my house, okay? I–” Dale wobbles to the left before finding his balance. “I am the king of my goddamned castle and I don’t want my family readin’ any of the trash these two like to peddle.” He rails, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Have you seen ‘em, Levinson? We’re talkin’ stories about women openly fornicatin’ with all kinds of creatures! Demons and vampires, an-and werewolves. Why, they might as well be…be…layin’ with dogs!” 

“Oh go to hell!” You snort, unable to catch the words before they come tumbling out of your mouth. “You seriously just insulted the entire genre of paranormal romance!”

“Easy, Bird.” Ari murmurs, even as you bristle.

 “You and Guadalupe over there are out here promotin’ beastiality. I’ve seen it on the cover of those damned books. The same ones I caught my girls readin’!”

Gritting your teeth, you close your eyes and force yourself to take a deep breath. It’s not like you’d forced those books on his girls, both of whom were 19 and 22 respectively. They were romance novel junkies, just like you. And you couldn’t be more proud that you’d turned them onto authors like Kresley Cole, Jeaniene Frost, and Nalini Singh.

But deep down you also knew there was no use in arguing with this man. All you really wanted was him out of your store so you could finally lock-up and go home. 

“Look Dale, you’re drunk. I can see it and I can most definitely smell it.” Your fingers come up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “If you leave now, I promise I won’t press charges.” 

Which means your poor wife won’t be stuck bailing you out of jail. Again. Although you’re smart enough to leave that last part unsaid.

“I ain’t leavin’ until I’ve made my point.” Dale grunts, kicking at one of your fallen books. You grimace when you notice the way his boot rips the cover, nearly tearing it in half. “This filth ain’t welcome in my town.”  

“Jesus Christ, you moron - the police are already on their fucking way so it’s your goddamned funeral!” You screech, throwing your hands up in the air. 

“How ‘bout you shut your whore mouth before I –” Unfortunately for him, Dale doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

Moving with a speed that belies his size, you can only watch in what feels like slow motion your bounty hunter strikes. Slapping the other man dead in his mouth with enough force to send him staggering backwards. 

“Let that be the last time I hear you disrespect this young lady.” Ari rumbles, the fierce sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. “And her shop.”

“I think you cracked my tooth!” He wails, clutching at his injured jaw. “And all over this bitch and her—ah fuck!” You can’t help but wince when his drunken stream of consciousness is interrupted once more when Ari slaps him in the mouth for yet the second time.

“Now what the fuck did I just say, Dale?” His dark chuckle makes you shiver. “Nope – eyes on me, buddy. There we go.” Your bounty hunter does a quick side step, using his big body to shield you from view.  

Feeling a bit dizzy, you lightly grip the back of your man’s shirt as you silently will your pulse to settle down. It had been awhile since you’d seen Ari like this. The last time he’d gotten physical with another man over you had been back at the local tavern. The night you credited with jumpstarting your relationship. 

A pained noise escapes Dale’s throat as he takes another step backwards. And then, wouldn’t you know it? That motherfucker has the nerve to spit out a broken tooth. The sound of it hitting your hardwood floor seems to echo throughout the store.

“I reckon you’re gonna want to see a dentist about that.” Comes the lawman’s cheeky response before he turns to you. 

Smiling down at you, he’s actually in the middle of instructing you to go check on Marisol when a hard covered tome connects with the side of his head. But to your surprise, Ari doesn’t even so much as flinch. 

In fact, he barely reacts at all. At least not until the guy tries to tackle him, sending them both flying and you scrambling out of the way. Any real worry for your man fades when you see him quickly regain the upper hand. He lands a solid blow to the pudgy man’s kidney before pinning him to the floor with a knee in his back, his right arm trussed up in a way that looks mighty uncomfortable. 

“Fuck you, asshole!” Dale squeals, belatedly reminding you of a stuck pig. “Fight me…” He wheezes. “Like a–like a man!”

“Dale, if I fought you like a man we’d be callin’ you an ambulance right about now.” Ari snarls before twisting the other man’s arm hard enough to make his bones snap. It only makes the man squeal louder. “Now apologize to my lady for making an absolute ass out of yourself tonight. And it had better be fuckin’ good, or I swear I’m gonna do a hell of a lot worse than a bruised kidney and dislocated shoulder.” 

Seeing your man like this, acting so protective and possessive over you and your shopwas doing funny things to those damned butterflies in your belly. Although you liked to think that you were more than capable of handling yourself, knowing that you had a man in your life who wouldn’t think twice about defending your honor made you feel so unbelievably loved and cherished.

It also made you wet as fuck. 

As your thoughts take an increasingly naughty turn, you get so caught up in the heat pooling between your thighs that you almost miss what’s transpiring in front of you. Key word: almost.

“I don’t think she heard you, Dale.” You watch as the man continues to thrash in Ari’s hold, his pathetic mewls of pain falling on deaf ears. “How bout you try that again?”

“I’m sorry!” 

Covering your mouth with your hand, all you can do is nod. Seconds later, flashing red and blue lights capture your attention as two squad cars pull into your parking lot.

Frankly, it was about damn time. 

You’re so grateful when Deputy Milton and another officer come waltzing through your front door. Just as Marisol makes her way back into your lobby. 

Milton frowns the moment he catches sight of her. While you had suspected that he might have a thing for the young librarian, his reaction only seemed to confirm it. Because you honestly couldn’t remember the last time you saw him angry before today.

“We got a call about a disturbance?” The Deputy surveys the scene, his frown growing more pronounced at the sight of the books and candy strewn across the ground. “Would you happen to know anything about that, Dale?”

His response comes out muffled. Not that it really matters any.

“I already informed Mr. Edwards that you boys would be more than happy to escort him back to the station.” Comes Ari’s gruff reply. “As soon as he cleans up his mess.”

“You know, I think the owner of this establishment would really appreciate that.” Milton cheekily turns to the officer at his side. “Right, Elkins?”

“I reckon it’s the only gentlemanly thing to do.” Officer Elkins pauses to wave at Marisol before continuing. “Ms. Gonzalez mentioned something about you both being assaulted. Would either of you ladies like press charges?”

You both shake your head no. If anything, you were pretty sure that Marisol wanted this whole nightmare to be over the same as you. 

“Alright. Guess that makes today your lucky day, then. Huh, Dale?” The officer hauls the man to his feet once Ari releases him. “Now, I’d get to cleanin’ if I was you. I’m anxious to get back to the supper I left behind at the station.”

 “You can’t be…” The man sucks in a harsh breath. “That guy just broke my tooth and you expect me to…to…”

“Clean up your mess?” Milton helpfully supplies. “Absolutely.” All three men chime at the same time.

“And when you’re done, we’ll escort you to your room. I’ll let you know right now that it ain’t the Marriott, but I suppose it’s better than the cold, hard ground.” The deputy muses with a shrug. “Mariam kicked you out after this latest episode. Can’t say I blame her after what you did to her face.”

“Oh my God.” You murmur, wrapping your arms around Ari’s trim waist. “Is she okay?”

“Eh.” Milton casts a sideways glare at Dale, silently warning him that he better get a move-on. Or else. “She walked away from tonight with a couple stitches. And possibly one hell of a wake-up call.”

You decide you’re better off remaining silent as haggard-looking Dale Edwards begins collecting the books he’d upended. And you remain that way even as he begins haphazardly stacking them back on the shelf.

Which was fine. You’d simply fix it tomorrow.

Next he moves to pick the candy he’d thrown at you. A soft sigh escapes you when you feel your man’s warm, lightly calloused palm come to rest on the back of your neck, giving you a reassuring squeeze. 

The entire process takes a little longer than it should, but given that the man is obviously inebriated, nobody sees fit to complain. 

Eventually, the task is complete. And a defeated Dale is led away in cuffs before being placed in the back of Elkins’ squad car.

Good riddance.

And when you offer to give Marisol a ride home, you’re not the least bit surprised you’re intercepted by Milton, who eagerly agrees to escort the traumatized woman home. They’re out the door a few moments later, leaving you alone with Ari. 

“Well shit.” He chuckles, his hand coming up to gently massage his shoulder as he watches you secure the lock. “That was…somethin’.” 

Instead of agreeing, you silently turn to face him, your hands resting on your hips. After all of that commotion, you had just one thing on your mind. And you weren’t going to let this man out of your store until you got it. 

“It probably wouldn’t hurt to break out the vacuum, Duchess. I can go grab it if you–” 

You cut him off a look before grabbing a fistful of his shirt, tugging his head down to your level to capture his lips in a kiss. Swallowing his surprised gasp, you can’t help the moan of appreciation you let out when he grabs your ass – hauling you even closer to his muscled body. 

“Fuck that.” You hiss, nipping at his plump bottom lip. “Don’t wanna vacuum.” Needing to taste more of him, you ultimately abandon his mouth in favor of kissing your way along his bearded jaw. 

He’d made a man bleed for you tonight. And words simply could not express just how horny that made you. 

“Oh yeah?” One of his large hands winds its way into your curls, wrenching your head back so that he can take control. “Then what do you want?” His eager tongue sweeps past your lips to dance with yours as he grinds his rapidly hardening cock against your belly. 

“You.” Comes your heated growl as you force him backwards. “I want you.”

Ari doesn’t protest when his back collides against the wall, or when you all but rip the shirt from his body. In fact, he fucking loves it. Although he might not be sure exactly what he did to make you act so goddamned feral, he’ll be damned before you ever hear him complain. 

“I’m right here, baby.” 

“Need more.” You hardly recognize the sound of your own voice. 

A wave of pure feminine satisfaction courses through you when you feel his big body shudder beneath your touch, his soft groan of pleasure driving you even closer to the brink. You rain sweet, hot kisses down the hard expanse of his chest, only pausing your ministrations long enough to give into the temptation to bite his left nipple, before continuing to move lower.

Right now, you were a woman on a mission. And nothing was going to stop you from reaching your intended destination. His turbulent blue eyes darken as they follow the path of your nails gliding along the ridges of his abs, causing goosebumps to rise across his tanned skin.

“Thank you for always protecting me.”

“Fuck! Always.” He grits out through clenched teeth.

Raw hunger fills you the moment you finally reach the fastening of his jeans. You quickly undo the buttons before dropping to your knees to undo the zipper of his fly with your teeth, making your intentions clear. 

“Is this what you want, baby?” Your bounty hunter rasps, tangling his fingers in your hair once again. “This what you need right now?”

Meeting his gaze, you nod. Tonight, this man had unlocked something primal inside of you. And at this moment you wanted the taste of this man on your tongue more than anything. It takes you no time to free his impressive member from the confines of his pants before shoving them down his hair covered thighs.

Later, you might allow yourself to be embarrassed by the sound of appreciation the bubbles it’s way past your lips. But not tonight. Refusing to break eye contact, you wrap a hand around his girth as your head dips to lap up a salty bead of precum. A familiar warmth pools in your belly as your core spasms with need. 

Ari’s chin tips back on a groan when you draw him into your mouth at the same time as you begin working him up and down with your hand. His fingers dig into your scalp as he spurs you on, loving the little noises you make as you greedily suck him off. 

“That’s it, baby. My good fuckin’ girl.” 

Emboldened by his response, you increase your pace, hollowing your cheeks with every bob of your head. It’s damn near impossible to take all of him – he was much too big. But you’d been practicing. 

Thankfully, your bounty hunter had proven to be a patient man. He never complained whenever you decided you wanted to practice. 

You’re rewarded for your efforts when you feel your man’s hips begin to move in time with your rhythm, damn near choking you in the process. But Ari doesn’t stop. Your pretty little mouth feels too goddamned good right now for him to even dream of it. 

“Ah shit, Duchess.” He chuckles when you gag around him for the second time. “I know you love it like this. My girl loves chokin’ on my fat dick. Don’t you?” You try to respond as your eyes begin to water, your mascara running down your cheeks. 

“Mmph!” Your free hand moves to cup his heavy sac, kneading and massaging as you continue to devour him. And then your mouth moves lower, briefly sucking on his balls in a move that has him rocking back on his heels. In response, Ari readjusts his grip on your curls, forcing himself deeper down your throat. Having anticipated this, you do your damndest to control your response by breathing through your nose. 

It works like a charm.

“Fuck, baby.” His eyes roll back in his head as his impending orgasm threatens to overtake him. “Keep–keep me–oh fuck!”

And you were determined to take it all. You were gonna swallow him down like he was your favorite treat. Because let’s be honest, you’d come to crave him just as much as he craved you.

“Cum, Beast.” You purr, swirling your tongue around the plump mushroom head. Once. Twice. “Fucking cum for me.” You allow the wet heat of your mouth to engulf him once more, not missing the way his body begins to tremble beneath you.

He continues to thrust, his breathing becoming more labored as his movements grow increasingly erratic. He was so close. So goddamned close. You knew it. And so did he.

‘Give it to me, baby.” You beg between deep, ragged breaths, no longer caring about how desperate you sound. “Gag me. Make me choke on it.” Your thighs clench together as the heady thrum of pleasure dances along your skin. 

And as Ari always liked to say, your wish was his command. 

“FUCK!” He roars as he rears back, forcing you to take him to the hilt as jet after jet of his seed pumps its way down your throat. 

Once again you’re forced to rely on breathing through your nose until he’s finished, making a show of swallowing him down. And then you lick your lips, not wanting to miss a drop of your man’s salty goodness.

Like the good girl you are, you remain on your knees as you patiently wait for him to recover. You knew without having to check that your panties were positively ruined. That came as no surprise. 

“Happy Halloween, Beast.” You murmur, nuzzling your nose against his still half-hard cock. 

“Oh yeah.” He responds with a quiet chuckle before gently cupping your chin. “You sure you’re okay, little Bird?” Your eyes flutter closed as he smooths the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“Yeah.” You find yourself leaning into his touch, feeling safer and more protected than ever before.

“Good.” 

You watch as he rests his head against the wall, his big body now fully relaxed. But you’re not done with this man yet. Not by a long shot. Which is why you don’t bother trying to hide the impish grin that spreads across your features as you reach for his dick once more. 

“But I bet I’ll be even better once you fuck me.” 

END

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[sturniolohouse]

Anniversary in the Cape - M.S

A/N: hey so, i feel CRAZY after writing this. this is truly an example of the duality of my writing... also, i'm sorry if there's any typos, i've proofread a ton and even stuck this bitch in grammarly but i could have missed something. she's looonnnng, so get some wine (if legal) and some popcorn and enjoy!!!!!! ALSO, ALSO, minors!!! DNI!!!! pls and thank you. :)

summary: matt and reader take their relationship to the next level, going on an overdue vacation to the cape for their anniversary.

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected do not recommend), spanking, choking, matt being hot, uhhh idk

word count: 5.8k

song: stargazing - the neighborhood

'started with a spark, now we're on fire'

"And you're sure your parents were okay with us using the car and the house?" I ask looking at him focus on the road in front of him.

"Yes, baby. For the one-hundredth time, they don't mind. Quit worrying, this is our vacation," He looks at me quickly, taking a hand off the wheel to meet my thigh and squeeze it lightly.

"I know, I'm just nervous," I admit softly and he turns to me with wide playful eyes.

"Nervous! Why the hell are you nervous?" He laughs in bewilderment, and I roll my eyes, shrugging slightly.

"I mean, obviously we've been alone before, but we've never been away just the two of us," I explain.

"Yeah, and I'm fucking ecstatic about it. Like you said, no interruptions, quiet house, on the cape...possibilities are endless." He says looking at me with a small suggestive smile growing on his face.

Of course, Matt and I get alone time. Do we get as much as we would like? No.

It's difficult finding time for ourselves when Matt lives with his brothers and my roommates are hermits.

Which I never saw as an issue, because I honestly don't mind spending time with Chris and Nick whenever I'm by their place–which is often. I was actually friends with all of them way before Matt and I began dating. 

But when Matt brought up the last time we had gone on a real date, it had been months.

"No, I know. I'm excited too, it's just a new step in our relationship and it feels very...adult? I don't know, I sound silly," I shake my head and he squeezes my thigh again before grabbing my hand.

"Hey, I know what you mean, and you don't sound silly." He softens a bit to reassure me before kissing the back of my hand. My heart warms at his gesture and I squeeze his hand. 

"I'm excited to show you one of my favorite places, I still can't believe you've never been. I literally grew up here." He changes the subject as he switches lanes and I see the sign indicating Cape Cod is less than a mile away.

We flew into Boston by ourselves yesterday afternoon and spent the night at his parent's house. It was Matt's idea, saying he didn't mind taking the drive as it wasn't too far from his house in Somerville. 

"Are you finally going to tell me what we're doing?" I rub circles into the back of his hand with my thumb.

His mouth quirks to one side pensively but he laughs as soon as he hears me sigh impatiently. 

"Okay, okay, you really wanna know?" He drawls out, turning to glance at me for a moment then turning back to the road. 

"You know I wanna know," I lean over the divider and stare into the side of his face. He smirks a bit, side-eyeing me a few times before humming. 

"Hmm, I think I'll leave you squirming a little longer," He says after a moment.

He exits the highway and I huff, slumping back into my seat.

This place looks like something straight out of a storybook.  

The green, hilly scenery takes my breath away. Matt shows me the main street, driving past the historic houses and buildings as families and couples walk down the street. When we round the bend, the dense trees become few and far between and the lush green landscape dissolves into tall grass, sand, and rock as the ocean comes into view.

We drive along the coast the rest of the way and I just stare in awe at the cozy beach town as Matt tells stories of growing up here in the summer. 

"That house at the end is the family house," He points to the one on the left.

Pulling into the driveway, Matt puts the car in park before cutting the engine. I go to open my door but he stops me, putting a finger up and getting out of the car himself.

I give him a questioning look before I see him jog to the other side of the car to open my door for me.

"And they say chivalry is dead," I shake my head jokingly and he shrugs with a smirk.

I get out of the car and lean up to give him a quick kiss, we're smiley and giddy when we pull apart. He gives me another kiss before handing me a key.

"Go head inside, I'll grab our bags," He says softly against my lips and I nod quickly.

As I walk past him to make my way to the front door, I feel a light slap to my ass. I go to give him a playful disapproving look, but he's already opening the trunk to grab our stuff and acting like nothing happened.

The house is small and charming.

It belongs to their grandparents and has been the family vacation home for decades. The colorful wind chimes on the front porch sing with the soft breeze. I breathe in the salty air and walk towards the steps leading to the front door.

I twist the key to open the door and I'm engulfed with a warm, inviting scent. There are tons of family pictures on the walls and my heart swells at the baby pictures of the triplets.

I can easily spot Matt in a picture of the three of them on the beach, probably around four or five years old.

Seeing photos of them as children always blows my mind because of how identical they looked.

Matt comes in with our bags, noticing me looking at the photos on the wall.

"You were so fucking cute as a kid," I say going to grab my duffel from him but he takes my hand instead, leading me down the hall to the bedroom.

"Am I not cute now?" He pretends to be offended.

"Eh," I joke back and he opens the door at the end of the hall.

"This is our bedroom, the bathroom is next door on the left," He nods behind us toward the hall.

The bedroom is a pale seafoam green color, the bed adorned with a vintage patchwork quilt lined with a ruffle trim. The room has more family photos hung on the walls and beach-themed decor.

"We can unpack now and then head to the store to grab something for dinner and the next few days. There's definitely no food here. Sound good?" He places our bags on the bed and turns to me, placing his hands on his hips.

He wears a backward camo Boston Red Sox hat, a black tee with a silver chain around his neck, jean shorts, and white New Balance sneakers.

I must have been ogling him for too long because he snaps his fingers in front of my face with a smug expression.

"D'ya hear me, kid, or are you too busy eye-fucking me?" He smiles, licking his lips, and I feel a deep blush bloom from my chest up to my neck.

"Not my fault my boyfriend is so hot," I shrug, trying to recover from his playful callout, and he rolls his eyes, blushing himself.

He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his chest. I wrap my arms around his middle, placing my head over his heart as we settle into a moment of comfortable silence.

An intrusive thought takes over, and I squeeze him tighter against me. I hear him groan at the sudden pressure of my grip, and he grabs hold of my arms.

"Okay, okay. Enough with the cuteness-aggression. You're going to break my ribs, kid," He wheezes.

I let up only after he tickles my sides. I squeal as he chases me to the other side of the bed and I finally surrender and ask for mercy. He slaps my ass and tells me I'll pay for it later.

We unpack our stuff and head out to the store to get ingredients for tacos. The one and only thing I've tried to improve in Matt is his cooking skills.

When we first got together, it was concerning how little he knew about cooking along with the number of times a week he'd eat out. I changed that real fast, teaching him basic meals he could make himself that were quick and pretty foolproof. Tacos were one of them.

"Go shower, I'll start dinner." He tells me, putting all of the groceries on the counter.

"You sure you can handle it?" I tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, I've gotten better. Didn't you like the salmon I made you the other week?" He points his finger at me and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, my love, I was very proud of you." I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, "I'll be quick," I say before going to take my long-awaited shower.

As the hot water cascades over my shoulders, I can't help but let my thoughts drift. This trip is a huge step for us, and despite my nerves, I know it was a much-needed and deserved trip.

We don't really have an anniversary only because we both don't remember the specific date and we never made our being official a big deal. It's never been our style.

But we decided this would be a getaway for our 'anniversary' as next month will be our second summer together.

I finish up and wrap myself in a towel, savoring the lingering warmth before I quickly get dressed. I smell the scent of sizzling meat and spices coming from the kitchen.

When I reach the kitchen, I can't help but smile at the sight of Matt carefully chopping lettuce. His brows furrowed and his tongue poked out in serious concentration.

"Smells amazing in here," I comment, leaning against the doorway.

Matt looks up startled a bit, dropping the knife and putting a hand over his heart. A proud grin quickly spreads across his face when he realizes it's just me.

"You fuckin' scared me. I'm almost done, just need to heat up the tortillas." He gestures for me to come over, and I do, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind.

"You're getting good at this," I compliment, kissing his shoulder as he flips the tortillas.

"Only because I have a great teacher," he replies, turning his head to kiss my cheek.

I help set the table while Matt finishes up. We sit down to eat, the atmosphere cozy and intimate. The tacos are actually delicious, and I make sure to shower Matt with compliments for his efforts. We pop open the sparkling apple cider Mary-Lou and Jimmy gave as a parting gift to us. Digging through the cupboards, we end up finding old plastic flutes to make a quick toast with.

"Here's to us, thank you for making each day brighter. To many more days with you, I love you very much," I say simply, raising my glass. He gets shy and smiley but clinks our glasses.

I can't help but smile at him as he blushes and tries to hide it. I lean in for a kiss and he immediately gives me one.

"I love you more," He whispers against me, pulling me onto his lap and giving me a deeper kiss. "I would say something too, but I don't want to sound stupid,"

"Hush, I already know you're madly in love with me. You made me bomb ass tacos," I joke, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him into my chest. He giggles and kisses my collarbone.

After dinner, we go to the backyard to watch what's left of the sunset. We put a lawn chair by the water and sit together watching the orange horizon disappear behind the shoreline. The hues of blues and purples melt together in the sky until it grows darker and the moonlight casts a silvery glow on the water.

The sound of the waves is soothing, our breathing in sync as I sit in his lap, his hand drumming lightly on my hip.

"This will continue to be my favorite place, I'm glad I get to share it with you." Matt says, his voice soft and contemplative.

"Thank you for sharing it with me," I reply, squeezing his hand. "I'm really happy we came."

"Me too." He turns to face me, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. He goes deep in thought for a moment and he almost goes to say something but stops himself.

I give him a questioning look and nudge him lightly.

"What was that?" I ask gently and he shakes his head.

"Nothing," He tries to brush it off but I grab his chin and turn his face toward me.

"Didn't seem like it," I play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I don't wanna freak you out," he says lowly and I give him a pressing look before he sighs deeply, finally giving in.

"I was just imagining our future. I can just see us, you know, bringing our kids here in the summers. They'd grow up with memories of this place like I do," he admits, staring directly at the water as he confesses his inner thoughts.

My heart tightens with emotion at his statement.

"You think about stuff like that?" My voice cracks, tears stinging my eyes and he immediately snaps his head to look at me.

"Hey, why are you crying?" He looks worried, cupping my cheek and using his thumb to catch a tear falling.

"Of course, I think of 'stuff like that' though. Does that scare you?" His voice laced with uncertainty and I shake my head immediately at his foolish question.

"No, no," I say softly, running my hand through his hair tenderly, then tracing his face. Starting from his left eyebrow, down his cheekbone, and over the scruff on his jaw.

His eyes flutter at my soft touch and he grabs my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.

"It's actually really sweet, Matt. I didn't think you'd want things like that with me, a family..." I admit and his eyes widen at my foolishness.

"Sweetheart, I hope you know you're it for me. Pretty sure if you ever decide one day you're sick of me, I'll spend the rest of my fucking life alone." He tells me openly and I blubber at his sweet words that pierce my heart more.

"Stop crying," He laughs lightly, getting slightly nervous by my reaction but I try to compose myself.

"You wanna have babies with me," I squeak, crying more and he tosses his head back in laughter as I continue to be a mess.

"Yes, I want 'babies' with you. If you want babies," He smiles, continuing to wipe my tears. "Okay, I love you, but you have snot all over your face," he says motioning all over his face with his finger and I gasp covering my nose.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Now, no more tears" He says and I roll my eyes, hitting his shoulder lightly, laughing a little bit now.

"They're happy tears. I just love you, a lot. It's overwhelming sometimes," I bury my face into his neck and he rubs my back soothingly as I actually compose myself.

I must be severely PMS-ing because I'm never this emotional.

"I know what you mean," He says, my heart swelling once more. "It scares me how much I love you." He kisses my hair but I lift my head for a real one.

We share a tender kiss, the ocean breeze wrapping around us like a comforting embrace.

"I can see it too by the way. Having a family. But way, way in the future," I say when I pull away, fixing the hair on his forehead.

"Oh, yeah for sure. Although, shit happens, who knows." He shrugs and I raise my eyebrow.

"Well, thanks to modern science and my IUD, no kids for at least ten years," I say and his eyes widen a bit.

"Okay, ten years is kinda a long time..." He trails off, catching me off guard.

"Matt!" I say in shock.

"I'm kidding!" He laughs.

. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖

Matt walks into the room after brushing his teeth just as I'm taking the throw pillows off the bed and pulling back the duvet.

I feel his arms wrap around me from behind and his face buries into my neck. He places open-mouth kisses on the curve of my neck, making his way up to my ear, where he grazes his teeth lightly.

I sigh, shuddering at the sensation and allowing my head to fall back against his shoulder.

He puts both hands on my hips this time, pulling my backside into his crotch. I moan at the feeling of him already hardening against me and I press my legs together in anticipation.

"I like this, no one around to interrupt...just us," His voice is velvet and I melt into his hold.

I hum, "Yeah, it's nice," My voice is airy.

"Can be as loud as we want, too..." He chuckles lowly, as I feel one of his hands sneak beneath my sleep shirt.

His fingertips delicately dance up my stomach, barely even touching my skin. Leaving goosebumps in their wake, yearning for his touch.

His hand stops right below my breast and I whine when he doesn't touch me further. I arch hoping to make more contact with his hand, but he doesn't give it to me.

"Matt," I say almost as a whisper, a plea.

"Mm," He hums, returning to kissing my neck. I can hear and feel the smug grin on his face, he knows what game he's playing.

"Touch me," I whine, arching again and lifting myself to reach his hand.

He finally cups my breast, taking my nipple in between his fingers and I gasp as he tugs and pinches gently.

He sucks on my ear lightly, giving it a kitten lick before blowing cold air. I spin around in his hold, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into me.

The kiss was explosive, and we both let out a breath we didn’t realize we were holding.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling our hips flush together and leaning into the kiss more, forcing me to bend back.

In the heat of the moment, we stumble back onto the bed behind us clumsily, my butt slipping off the edge of the bed. I yelp when I almost fall, and laugh into the kiss. Our teeth clink together momentarily as he chuckles too.

He grabs under my thighs, lifting me further onto the bed as I make room for him to settle between them.

"That's better," He breathes out before kissing me again, laying me down on the cool linen sheets.

I revel in the feeling of his weight on top of me, our hips perfectly puzzled together, my hands running through his soft hair, while his rest on my hips.

I tug at the roots of his hair to elicit a delicious sound from him, something primal and guttural.

He squeezes my hips and pulls back to look down at me with half-lidded eyes. His pupils are so blown out you can barely make out the icy blue of his irises.

He keeps eye contact with me as he makes his way lower, lifting my sleep shirt above my breasts. My nipples pebble and harden as they're exposed to the cool air. He places wet kisses down my sternum, then my stomach until he reaches right above my cotton underwear.

He kneels on the floor so he's perfectly aligned in front of my core, his fingers play with the band of my underwear and he smiles to himself shaking his head.

I lean up on my elbows, "What?" I can't help but smile back.

"Kittens?" He raises his eyebrows and smirks at me.

I shrug, not ashamed in the slightest at the pattern of my underwear.

"Yeah, you like 'em?" I deadpan, but break into a grin when he tips his head back and laughs.

Endearingly, of course.

"Very sexy," he replies, and I shriek as he yanks me to the very edge of the bed.

He slips his fingers into the hem of my underwear, finally pulling them down my legs and discarding them. He lightly slaps the inside of my thigh before prying them apart and pinning them.

Just as quick as we're joking about my underwear, I'm back to trembling under his touch.

Completely exposed to him now, he teases me, kissing my inner thighs and nipping at the sensitive skin.

My hips buck at the gentle assault but he keeps me in place, stunting my movements.

"Patience..." he chides and I roll my eyes.

He slaps my thigh a little harder this time and I hiss, my core pulsing at the act. He licks a stripe on each crease of my thigh, purposely ignoring my aching cunt.

His thumbs spread my lips apart before he collects my arousal using it to circle my clit. I whimper at the contact, stopping myself from bucking my hips again.

Matt's in a trance, mouth agape, eyes heavy, as he continues to tease me and I become more and more restless.

Almost as if he couldn't contain himself any longer, he finally buries his head between my thighs. He hungrily licks from my entrance up to my clit, before sucking on my swollen nub like I'm a honeysuckle.

"Fuck," I gasp under my breath, squirming under his grip. My breath shallowed and my heart stuttered.

"I told you, we could be as loud as we want," He slurs against me, flattening his tongue against me and shaking his head side to side quickly.

I let go of a whine before snapping my legs around his head, overwhelmed by pleasure. He growls, immediately prying them back open and relentlessly swirling his tongue against me.

I grab a hold of the hair at the crown of his head as he continues to drink me in. Skillfully lapping every inch of my folds, knowing exactly what to do to get me wound up in merely minutes.

I feel the build-up of my first orgasm, all my muscles going taut as I begin to shake uncontrollably.

Matt knows that I'm about to come, so he pulls his mouth away and replaces it with his fingers. He slips his ring and middle fingers inside me with ease, massaging my front wall and coaxing my orgasm out of me with each gentle drag.

"Oh my fucking god," I cry out, my hips moving with his fingers.

He stands above me now, swiping my hair away from my face and gently caressing my cheekbone. I grab onto his bicep beside me as he leans down to kiss me, swallowing my whimpers. 

"C'mon, baby. I can feel you squeezing the fuck outta my fingers. Come for me," His voice is a gentle command against my jaw. 

His mouth attaches to my nipple as his thumb smushes into my puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, stimulating me everywhere.

That's all it takes before the wave peaks, then crashes and floods of icy-hot, blinding pleasure courses through me. He moans against me as he feels me pulse and ooze around his fingers.

My nails dig into his bicep and I arch into him, my hips mindlessly riding out the pleasure as his name falls from my lips in a desperate, broken cry.

His mouth and fingers gently work me through the aftershocks before I'm grabbing his wrist and whining from the sensitivity. 

"You're so fucking hot," He breathes, kissing me again.

I exhale into him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down onto me.

He pulls back, tossing his shirt off his head and undoing his belt, looking down at me as I lay half-naked and panting. I lean up on my elbows and move myself further up the bed.

He's only in his black boxers now, placing a knee on the bed before crawling towards me.

"Wanna taste you," I say, reaching up to kiss his neck and he lets out a shaky breath.

He shakes his head, "I won't fucking make it," he pants, grabbing my jaw and claiming my mouth again.

He pulls back, "As much as I love this fucking mouth," He adds darkly, tracing my swollen lips before licking them sensually and kissing me deeper.

I moan at the kiss and the feel of his cold rings against my hot skin. I run my hands down his chest as our breathing picks up, the kiss becoming more heated.

I run my tongue along his bottom lip and he allows me in before moving his hand down from my jaw to my neck, squeezing gently.

I pull back this time to take my shirt off, leaving me completely bare in front of him. I then hook my fingers in the band of his boxers and pull them down just enough to free him. His dick springs up, the tip so red it looks painful.

I spit into my hand before taking him into my hand and giving him a couple of strokes, swiping his weeping tip with my thumb. He whimpers at the touch before grabbing my wrist and making me release him.

I pout, bringing my thumb to my mouth to suck off his precum. His mouth falls agape at the sight, and his eyes screw shut as he falls onto one of his hands weakly.

"What's wrong?" I make sure my voice is dripping like sweet, gooey honey. Tempting a very hungry grizzly bear.

He grits his teeth, straightening himself back up on his knees in front of me. I look up at him, my hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

"You're going to be the death of me," His voice is gritty, and I tilt my head innocently. I yelp when he grabs my hips and flips me over.

It's moments like these that remind me of his surprising strength.

He pulls me onto my knees so my cheek is pressed into the mattress and my ass is elevated, leaving me exposed and shaking with anticipation.

His hand comes down onto my asscheek and I hiss at the sting. I feel his dick poke the back of my thigh as his hand smooths over my ass to ease the burn.

"Matt, please," I pant when he kisses down my spine and I push my hips back impatiently.

"Need my cock that bad, hm?" he murmurs against my skin and I nod quickly.

"Need you inside me, please," I whine, not caring how desperate I sound, only focused on how his low chuckle makes my core pulse around nothing.

"Yeah?" He croons and my breath hitches when I feel him run his tip along my aching pussy. Knocking against my clit with each teasing stroke.

"Yes-" I whimper and then gasp when I feel the familiar, delicious stretch of him.

I grip the sheets as he grips my hips harshly, slowly entering me.

"Fuuuck," He strains out, and I can picture the vein in his neck protruding, wishing I could lick it.

He fills me completely, his hips flush against my ass. I whimper as I feel him buried deep inside me, hitting a sensitive spot that turns my legs into jelly.

He begins guiding me in a gentle rhythm, slow and deliberate, determined to make this last. His thrusts are deep, intentionally angling down to hit the spot that he knows makes me see stars.

"You feel so fucking good, so deep," I praise him and he slightly picks up the pace.

My core tightens around him involuntarily and he hisses, his grip on my hip becoming almost painfully tight.

"Fuck, don't do that. I'll come too fast," He pulls back slightly, trying to steady himself.

"I don't care," I push back against him again, just wanting to feel him.

He curses under his breath, his hands firm on my hips to stop my movements. He pulls me up by my hair, my back against his chest now and I laugh maniacally before moaning at the fresh angle.

"Must you always be so defiant?" His breath is hot against my ear and I can't help the grin on my face. I love getting him riled up.

"I like it when you push me around," I admit, my voice dripping with playful challenge.

He releases his grip on my hair, and I catch myself on my hands, bracing for whatever comes next.

"Yeah? You like it when I'm rough?" He presses, his voice low and taunting.

"Mhm," I hum pressing my hips back again but he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty.

I go to whine in protest but I'm shut up with the hardest slap of the night, right on top of the red mark he left before.

I cry out and bury my face into the sheets again, but quiver with longing for more.

"That's what you wanted, right?" He continues to taunt and spanks me again but this time, on the other side.

I moan and go to rub my clit for some sort of relief but he grabs both my wrists, knocking me down further.

Another smack. I groan this time in frustration.

He gathers my wrists in one hand as I feel him lean over me. His hand sneaks around to find my neck as he presses his mouth against my ear.

"Are you just that fucking desperate?" He queries, his fingers pressing into my pulse points, just enough for my head to lighten.

"Please, Matt." I plea, but don't exactly know what I'm pleading for.

"What's the matter, baby, you can't handle it anymore? Thought you liked me pushing you around," He tuts.

His free hand lifts my hips before he teases my entrance with his tip and I let out a shaky breath.

"Hm? Nothing to say?" He pushes his tip in but pulls back and I whine at the teasing.

He releases my neck to brush my hair away so he can see the side of my face. A reminder that he's still the caring Matt I love.

"Just fuck me, please," I beg and he sighs deeply.

"You're so fucking lucky I love you,” he says through his teeth before he drives into me again in one swift motion.

Both of us moan in relief, the tension finally being broken.

He grinds his hips down into me teasingly and my eyes roll back at the intense, tight angle.

I feel his body heat leave my back as he straightens out behind me. Placing his hands on my lower back, he leans forward causing my back to arch before slamming into me. Again and again and again.

Each breath is knocked out of me, and each blow is deeper than the last, discovering a new spot inside of me and pushing me closer and closer to the edge. His pace quickens with every approving sound I make, answering me with his own moans of approval.

He turns me onto my back, staying inside me, wrapping my leg around his waist before leaning forward to kiss me slowly.

"Mm, missed your face," he admits softly, his thrusts starting off slow but steadily increasing momentum. "Wanna see that pretty face when I make you come," he coos, and I shriek at a particularly hard thrust that sends me further up the bed.

He watches my face the entire time, studying every furrow, every eye roll, mirroring my expressions as if he can feel everything he is doing to me.

I can tell he's trying to distract himself, to last longer, slowing down to kiss me and then picking up the pace.

My second orgasm build-up is slower and more subtle. It almost comes out of nowhere, but he knows my body so well. He reaches down to stimulate my clit, deepening his strokes, driving me to the brink.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh-" My back arches, and my ears ring as my orgasm rips me apart.

"Good girl, fucking come for me–oh fuck. I'm coming–I'm gonna come. W-where do you want me to-" He rushes out, as my pussy continues to spasm around him.

Through my haze, I push my heels into his hips and grab the back of his neck.

"I-inside, come inside me," I pant and he shudders, whimpering.

"Oh my–fucking, fuck," He strains as he comes and I moan at the feeling of him filling me up.

He pushes as deep as he can inside me, and the aftershocks of my orgasm milk him further causing him to hiss.

He collapses into my collarbone, his hair drenched in sweat as he takes a moment to regain strength.

I place a hand in his hair and scratch his back lightly as we settle into a steady breathing rhythm.

"Holy fuck," he says eventually into my neck, laughing a little and I giggle too.

"Wait, wait don't laugh-" He pulls away with his face scrunched and I realize he's still inside me.

He hisses again in sensitivity, looking down at where we're connected before pulling out of me carefully. I whimper at the feeling and he softly apologizes.

I feel his come leak out of me and I watch his expression falter for a second as he notices the sight.

"Fuck me," he says under his breath, shaking his head and I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling.

I slowly reach my hand down to play with myself and his eyes widen as he quickly grabs my hand to stop me.

"Are you trying to kill me tonight? No, I'm cleaning you up and we're going to bed. Stay right there, don't fucking move." He gets up, pointing at me as he walks away.

I cover my mouth and laugh at his reaction. He comes back with a wet washcloth, using it to wipe me carefully.

He huffs out again, shaking his head and I give him a knowing look.

"Devil woman, don't look at me like that." He tries to sound stern, but his voice cracks with nerves.

"I love you," I tell him, meaning it. His eyes soften and he leans over me, a hand on either side of my head. He scans my face, a soft smile carves into his face before he leans down to kiss me.

"We really need our own place," he says when he pulls back and my stomach flips.

"What was that?" I ask him with wide eyes.

"I said we really need a shower, c'mon," He lies, laughing as he tries to pull me up but I'm tugging him back towards me.

'Hey, get back here. That's not what you said," I laugh at his antics but he runs away towards the bathroom before I hear him call back.

"I plead the fifth!"

[legandairy-horror]

Does anyone else feel a strange sort of dread waiting for new deltarune chapters?

It sounds crazy right? I admit it's a weird feeling for sure, and I'm not even 100% sure if dread is the right way to describe it. But as more info is revealed and the next chapter inevitably gets closer and closer to releasing I can't help but feel a strange sort of, melancholy? Longing? The only way I can describe it is "when you know the goodbye is coming". The strange somber feeling when you know you’re going to have to leave stuff behind, but aren't quite ready for it yet.

warning: words. Homestuck

In 3 months Chapter 1 will be 6 years old, and in 2 months Chapter 2 will be 3 years old. Deltarune is ostensibly in Early Access but this release schedule puts new chapters closer in time scale to whole sequals if anything, which they most assuredly are not trying to be. This has created a strange situation in the fanbase that I don't think I've ever truly seen anywhere else. One where, In the time between chapters It feels like everyone has had their own chance to decide what Deltarune is to them. To create their own version of this story, to write their own themes that they want to see explored, to imagine their own events and plot twists they want to see play out.

@lynxgriffin Paper Trail Comic Being an Alternate Story following off of chapter 1

@lilybug-02 The Chara Timeline Being one of many interpretations on the popular Asriel & Chara roommates headcannon.

@huecycles Andromeda Chapters being their interpretation on the full game

The innumerable Deltarune Theorists and analysts like HalfBreadChaos, Andrew Cunningham, Stuffed Alpaca, etc. etc.

@vyletbunni Deltatraveler being a whole ass fangame based around a chapter 2 meme that it has long since outlived

And that's kinda the thing isn't it? Once more deltarune comes out, a ton of these projects will just become outdated, it's an inevitability. So what will happen to them? will they become forgotten? maybe, maybe not, it's impossible to tell. but either way it feels kinda sad to think about yknow? that one day all the time and effort spent and all the memories made might one day just cease to exist.

There's a lot more I could say on this topic if given the chance but to keep this tumblr post from morphing into a 2 hour long video essay in text form let me leave off with this.

In the age of the internet and social media there will always be a fan of something. Nothing truly dies quite like it used to anymore, regardless of whatever influencers want you to believe. But that doesn't mean things stop changing, that there wasn't a past that has since been left behind. I'm a Homestuck fan. more specifically I'm a Late Homestuck fan, one who came in after the comic had already ended and it's peak in popularity was long behind it. The fandom's still around all these years later. But it'd be foolish to admit that, 8 years after the comics controversial end, the inescapable trend of new fans replacing old fans has left the fandom wholly disconnected from the monolith that it once was. the only remnants of which lie in decades old discourse and fanfiction. Like old relics of a long forgotten city, waiting to be excavated under a fine layer of dirt.

Before I close out here I just want to make it clear: I'm not saying that we should be trying to return to some nebulous "glorious past" that never really existed. I'm not trying to deride Toby Fox for not working in the sweatshop hard enough to produce more content™, or whatever you wanna try and spin-doctor this post into. It's just a thought that creeps into my head every now that I wanted to share, see if anyone feels the same, yknow?

Besides it's not all doom and gloom. For those of you OG Homestucks who read till the end. You remember Heinoustuck? Guidestuck? Nightfall? Fucking Ke$haStuck? yeah those are still going by the way! after years of inactivity they've now started back up again. some under new authors and some by the same author but still!

You could say a lot about that but to me at least, it makes me feels hopeful in a way. That, even if not everything will survive. we'll at least have some mementos to remember what came before.

[ashtxrie]

submitted 11:59 pm

— alternatively, enhypen maknaes as your typical high school crush!

PAIR. high school! enhypen maknaes x gn!reader (rest under cut) GENRE. fluff, high school au, bullet points WORD COUNT. 1.8k total HYUNG LINE VER.

김선우 — kim sunoo

candy hearts, spotify playlists, good morning texts, easy laughter, crescent smiles

in high school, sunoo's known as being super friendly and sociable

and because of that, he has a ton of friends

like he basically knows everyone

you and sunoo have definitely talked before, and you may have had a teensy tiny crush on him from your... downward of five interactions

he's kind of like your hallway crush!

however, you DON'T know that he has had a crush on you for FOREVER

like a MASSIVE one! SINCE MIDDLE SCHOOL

and his friends are SICK AND TIRED of hearing about it

man's dedicated because he really saw you in every single one of your phases and STILL decides to like you. he's a real one

he's so whipped like he's hitting up the group chat (named "en- gang" by riki btw) at 1 in the morning being like

"GUESS WHAT?!!! she smiled at me today ☺️ i forgot to tell you all"

everyone is so done

"did you talk to her though"

"NO. i'm getting there"

"all you did was make eye contact for the past month be srs rn"

so one day jay and jungwon (your mutual friends), who were in the same english class as you both, were feeling DEVIOUS

it was the fall semester final project, and it was supposed to be worked on in teams of 2 to 3

"bro you are NOT working on it with us the love of your life is literally RIGHT there"

jay and jungwon took matters into their own hands and forcefully excluded sunoo ("you guys are so fake")

so now, with no other option, he had to approach you!

"do you have a group already? if not, we could work together?"

wait wtf he didn't say that

hey....

it was YOU???

you approached him first??? he was SHOCKED

tried to play it cool but his smile gave away how happy he was

"yes!!!! let's work together!!!!! :)"

the project actually went so well he has literally never been happier typing away on that document every night

updates the group chat periodically too

"when we were working on the google doc at 2 am in the morning our cursors went over each other’s & it was like we were holding hands :>>"

"how do i unsubscribe"

"you're just mad because you've never been in love <333"

secretly sunoo's thanking his friends though because now you guys are basically close friends!

while doing the project together you started talking about school, friends, life, and everything in between

talking with you just seemed so natural, and sunoo wonders why he was so afraid of it before

i'd like to think that with you, sunoo doesn't feel the need to always put on the bubbly and outgoing side of him

sometimes, he can just be quiet and calm sunoo with you, and the silence feels so comfortable and safe

you start hanging out more and more, and soon you've met so many people through sunoo that they think of you whenever they think of him too

it's like a package deal!

throughout this time he's still madly in love with you btw

he just wants to take things slow! he didn't want to scare you away or anything

and yes, the gc is STILL getting their daily sunooyn Down Bad News Network

"today during lunch she gave me a yakult bottle, i think she’s starting to like me back! :D"

he does Not know you've liked him all this time

the mutual pining is crazy

he (finally) confesses after a whole YEAR

he's super nervous about it, has possible plan b's scripted and sat through 30 minutes of youtube subliminal audios the day before for extra good luck

after he says his whole heartfelt confession, he gives you this handwritten letter with all of his favorite moments with you in the past year, complete with spotify codes next to each one that links to a specific song he thought of at the time

you teared up a bit because oh my gosh it was so cute he was so cute and your heart just melted

you told him you've liked him since forever too and he was FLABBERGASTED

you both also reveal that you've BOTH had hidden spotify playlists dedicated for each other???

let's just say that even years later, the 'en- gang' group chat would NEVER let sunoo live down his digital footprint

양정원 — yang jungwon

strawberries, honors classes, coming of age, familiarity, inside jokes, paper rings

your childhood best friend

who just so happens to also be mr student council president, king of extracurriculars, resident academic powerhouse

and also a LITTLE SHIT about it

since elementary school, you've got some friendly (and not-so-friendly) rivalry going on

"we both know who’s going to get the higher score for this chem final” 

“yeah, and it’s going to be me”

“NAH” 

but the drive you get from the competition is really what brought you guys together

it's what keeps you motivated, it's what keeps you going

and he's funny! (though you'd never admit it)

because yes, you're both trying to beat each other for the top spot in class rank

but you also get each other

you've been study buddies since the beginning of time, and he keeps the two of you accountable

sometimes he's TOO responsible

"jungwon don't let the pomodoro timer dictate you life can we PLEASE take a snack break right nowww"

"we literally did that FIVE MINUTES AGO"

outside of studying he's really chill though

one summer he started to get really into alchemy of souls and you binged the series twice together, effectively destroying both of your sleep schedules right before school started

he just loves existing in the same space as you tbh

definitely loves calling you for hours during the school year, whether to review for an upcoming exam or to just have the two of you do your own things while connected on the phone

it's pretty common for the two of you to fall asleep while on call with one another

late night yapping sessions (hello??? his weverse addiction??)

he feels like he can just let his responsibilities go and you're the only person who really understands him and everything he does and why he does it

lowkey.... he also just wants to make you proud :(

he was so happy that one time you offhandedly mentioned how you've seen and appreciated all the hard work he was putting in for one of the school events

when he eventually confessed to you, everything just made sense

like the way your eyes always lingered on his bright smile when he showed up on your doorstep at the crack of dawn

and how even when you tease each other, you never miss how he would reach for your hand with his own before retracting it hurriedly as if changing his mind

now, oh he just makes you feel so loved

texts you at random times of the day just because, sending you the most random images and captioning them with "us"

he's still got the silliness in him though!

"i want to try every strawberry with chocolate combination with you <333"

西村力 — nishimura riki

neon lights, school dances, sunglasses, finger guns, playful banter, shared hoodies

honestly he's just at school for the vibes

however, he DID take homecoming very seriously

with one goal in mind: to DOMINATE the dance floor

and dominate he did.

he partied in the USA so hard that by the end of the night, everyone was talking about that freshman who left everyone speechless at a HIGH SCHOOL DANCE

among those witnesses of how riki out-danced the entire school population, were you

and you thought he was literally the coolest person ever

fast forward two years, and you're a junior now

it's all good! you've definitely outgrown your month-long admiration of the Guy From Hoco

but yo what guess who sits right next to your seat in class???

it's the Guy From Hoco himself

honestly, you're a pretty chill person so you turned to him and were like "hey aren't you that guy that got famous back during hoco freshman year?"

but now? he’s EMBARRASSED to admit it

"oh uhhh that wasn't me haha"

boy bffr you would know his face anywhere

you kind of gave him a questioning look and shrugged

"oh well, i thought it was really cool though"

he instantly backtracks, because you thought it was cool and NOT an aura loss????

"wait i think i remember now haha that WAS me!!!"

you guys match energy so well tbh

he started to catch feelings for you because of how funny you were and how you two just clicked, but he was stuck in denial FOREVER

"I DON'T CHASE I ATTRACT" (desperate)

heeseung also tried to give him "rizz counseling" but that just ended up with them both saying "mb gang" at everything

which was..... not very rizzy!

you had convinced him to audition for the competition dance team at your school, which he obviously made

he texted you the day he got in too, typing in all caps in everything which he NEVER does

"why would you scream about things in caps lock when you can be cool and nonchalant" YEAH SURE RIKI

updated all his social media bios to @[school]varsitydanceteam the moment he got the acceptance notif

“[name] is my instagram bio tuff”

“WHY ARE U ALR PUTTING IT IN YOUR BIO"

"because i’m committed and it lets them know i’m part of a professional community"

(heeseung told him that it would show his commitment to the sport and thus his potential to commit to you.)

at this point, riki was ready to fire heeseung and switch to jake as his ghostwriter 💀

but little did he know, you started liking him too once you saw how genuinely hardworking he was when he has a goal

like those hours he spent on call with you asking if you thought this one move was clean enough?? he really put in his all (he also wanted to impress you)

you kind of had the idea that he liked you back, because let's be honest he was being a bit obvious about it

the way he almost choked when you hugged him congratulations??? he looked DAZED for a whole hour

you had to confess to riki because his heejake rizz courses consisted mainly of heeseung and jake arguing about whose approach was better

even when you two became a couple, you still had teasing as a love language LMAO

"HAHA 🫵🫵 YOU'RE SO SHORT i still love you though <3"

it's just how he shows his love, but he also loves draping his arm across your shoulders when walking around

made sure to emphasize to heeseung and jake that this was all his doing and they did not help him at ALL

but let's be real, YOU were the rizziest of them all

and riki agrees <3

TAGLIST : @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic @mygnolia @asteria-wood

[aureatchi]

ᝰ𓂃⊹ ִֶָ SHE PAINTED THE HIGH RENAISSANCE ONTO HER BLANK CANVAS. . .ft. fyodor dostoevsky & dazai osamu

৻ꪆ RIASSUNTO. fata viam invenient...you attend a ball, fated to stumble upon two demons in disguise. you don't know whether it is for better or worse that you somehow already know them, all masqueraded as angels, regardless of how laughably far off that would be.

◞ OR ROME WAS TRULY THE PROMISED LAND, and you sought the art of chaos, rivalry, and seduction.

SERIES MASTERLIST. → ii. | PLAYLIST ♫. | wc. 9.6k+

৻ꪆ a/n. it’s FINALLY HERE !! get ready because there’s A LOT. i’ve poured sm heart into this so i hope you enjoy it as much as i do :) THANK YOU TO EVERYONE who was patient + reached out telling me how excited they are for this. this series is also my entry for @kentopedia’s love through the ages historical!au collab. thank u sm for putting this together <3

৻ꪆ info. fem!reader. renaissance!au. drama & romance. cursing. some suggestive parts. love triangle. arranged engagement. slowburn. lowk touch-starved. a lot of story buildup/complex character. suicide attempt from dazai. historical inaccuracies. bad poetry. religious imagery/symbolism.

— THE MONA LISA WASN’T REAL. And Vincenzo Peruggia was not, in fact, the person who stole the piece, contributing to the boom of its fame to the general public, but was planned in a way to frame him so that the origins of the painting would be a secret gossip only a group of the most successful artists knew about. 

The gendarmes were close. They were correct in assuming that another artist could’ve stolen the painting during the investigation. But they never suspected it could be the person the portrait was painted of herself—no, obviously not Francesco del Giocondo’s wife—but the original face who remained under the cover-up. 

An artist’s face, who later went under the alias of “Raphael” to conceal her contentious image and entanglements from the public eye—you. 

The crashing of ice-cold water on your skin amidst the summer air. The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders, and an unknown heart who vowed to drown you…

“My, miss, you’re already stirring up tons of drama, and you’ve only been here three days!” 

The past couple of months had felt like a dream. It almost seemed like yesterday when you packed your things into suitcases and moved to one of the most famous centers of the art world, Florence. 

Yet now, you entered through the gates of the ‘eternal city’ itself—Rome, a great privilege granted to you by the Pope himself. You almost cried when you received his invitation, commissioning you to paint the frescos in his private library. Of course, there were some strings pulled, like the person who recommended you…

“It’s all thanks to you, Ranpo,” you giggled mischievously. As the lead architect of the Vatican (but before that, your friend), he had told the Pope, “...she might as well become the best painter in all history. She may not be well known here in Rome, but say her name in Florence, and you’ll awaken the whole city. You’ll realize you’ve found a diamond among all the rubble. Trust me on this one; I’m never wrong.” 

“It was nothing,” Ranpo replied with a smug smile. “His Holiness, Fukuzawa never doubts my word.” He tapped his head with his forefinger and winked. “Not only does he recognize my talent in the arts, he also acknowledges my outstanding intellect! I’d be a detective in another life.” 

You chuckled before he continued. “The rest is all on you, princess. Again, you’re progressing quickly-” he pulled out a letter to summarize out loud. 

“-His Holiness was so impressed that he’s giving you the rest of the rooms to paint,” Ranpo said while you stared at him with widened eyes. “He…fired everyone else who was working on them. On top of that, he invites you to a ball happening in a couple of days to make an announcement on new projects. Other than you, he’s invited only the most influential artisans to attend alongside the aristocrats.” 

“No way!” You grabbed Ranpo’s hands in excitement. 

“Yes, way.” He let you spin him around on the pavement in eagerness, your long dress following along. “Though, I feel like you’re going to have to explain to him how you painted the library’s frescos so quickly.” 

Your turbulence of elation calmed. “Hm, you’re right. 

“I hope the question slips his mind.”

You hadn’t actually told Ranpo, but it always seemed like he would figure out everything about you anyway. There was one reason why you had become so famous in Florence. You created masterpieces in what felt like seconds—it was almost like you were granted the touch of creation itself. No one had ever seen you paint, so the mystery of how you were able to produce your portraits in mere weeks—sometimes days remained a mystery to the entire world, no matter how fast science progressed. 

You called it an ability. To be able to visualize—a mental image in your head you wanted to come to life in the form of a still painting on a canvas was what you did. You conjured the concept yourself, freezing daydream into textile. 

You weren’t sure why you possessed something supernatural, or perhaps there were other artists you didn’t know who could also do the same thing, but firstly, you kept it a secret—it seemed almost inhuman to hold such a power. Yet secondly, it was even more the reason to follow in your father’s footsteps. 

He, too, was a painter in the courts of Urbino and would’ve liked to become a famous artist as well. Now, that dream lived on through you—you had studied and trained under his teachers and other artists until you mastered their techniques from the foundations to geometry. Your father was no longer alive, but you were sure he’d be proud of you for getting this far. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Ranpo said.

“The two angels of art are going to be there.” The brunette closed his eyes and rested his arms behind his head as if he already knew the shocked expression awaiting your face. “Your inspirations. Osamu Dazai of Milan and your fiancé, Fyodor Dostoevsky of Florence.” 

“Pardon me, Fyodor?” 

…

A long time ago, your uncle—your now legal guardian—arranged your marriage to Fyodor Dostoevsky. However, the same would’ve happened even if your father had been in charge due to his family’s good societal position. 

It was just meant to be, you guessed. 

Coincidentally, Fyodor had also taken an interest in art the few times you two saw each other when you were younger, and you eventually saw him go on to become the most talented sculptor in Florence. 

However, your path of similarities ran cold after that. You hadn’t seen him in years, and you weren’t even close. You were obligated to write to each other once a month, but each message almost seemed like business transactions rather than love letters. Fyodor was too aloof a person despite being well-educated and polite—though he checked off every other box (and you were sure any other woman would want him), you realized you would never be able to connect with him. He was just not interested. 

You couldn’t do anything to change the engagement, but as long as there was no set wedding date to look (dread) forward to, you were content with life for now. 

You didn’t necessarily like Fyodor, nor did you go to Rome to finally pursue him, but you admired him from a different standpoint. 

He and Osamu Dazai were truly angels of art; even gods, if the Church was not one’s forte. Everyone across the country knew their names—patrons and civilians alike worshipped them at the feet. Even the powerful Medici family, sought by every artist to be commissioned, held close ties with both. 

Clientages saved their money to have the two paint for them, upcoming artists aspired and envied their success, ladies came with their names rolling off their tongues to the horror of their husbands’ faces—they were rumored to be devilishly handsome, too. Self-portraits of the prodigies were yet to be made, but you didn’t doubt it one bit. If Dazai was anything like Fyodor, he had to be fanciable too. 

They had the world and heavens as masterpieces in their hands; one could say their names traveled as far as the badlands. You arrived in Florence right after they departed for Rome, and you studied the creations left behind to figure out how they made crowds swoon and create such huge impressions on people.

And you found their pieces were indeed the pinnacle of the renascene summer. You silently made them your mentors, incorporating what was successful for them into your own works. 

…

“And you’ll be there, right, Ranpo?” 

“Of course, so don’t you worry your pretty head about a thing,” he tapped his head with a smile. “Though, I have some work to finish first, so I’ll leave thee to explore Rome.” 

“Don’t take the wrong wagon this time,” you giggled. Ranpo was late to meet you on your first day because he kept taking the wrong passenger coach to get to you. For some reason, he was knowledgeable at everything but navigating transportation. 

“I’m taking a horse this time,” Ranpo replied. 

“Even worse! You better not fall off!” 

There was a tailor you had been recommended to by your aunt before you departed. You decided to head to his shop first to find a dress to wear for the evening. 

“Good day, my lady,” the couturier said with a kind smile. “I have multiple options of gowns for you tonight. Please do take your time selecting.”

“Gramercy,” you replied with a smile in turn. Your measurements had been sent to him a few weeks ago, so that you wouldn’t have to wait for your garments to be made. 

He brought out at least four cioppas. You didn’t even care to figure out how many in total because among all the regal reds, greens, and royal blues stood out a silk, off-white dress with gold accents. Your eyes were immediately drawn in, though you couldn’t put your finger on why. It wasn’t the most showy in the bunch, but that didn’t matter to you. It was like a rare gem among common stones—though you would need a good eye to really appreciate its uniqueness. 

You ran your fingertips across the fabric, closely observing its craftsmanship. You became fascinated with the opulent designs on the flowy skirt and the long sleeves. You guessed that if you didn’t take it, you’d instead dream of it for the rest of your days in regret and freeze it in one of your paintings for eternity.

“I think I’ll try this one first.” 

Your first choice proved worthwhile when you tried on the gown in the separate dressing room. You exchanged the simple front-laced bodice and plain cotton attire for the new, elegant piece sewn just for you. The fabric hugged and complimented your curves in all the right places, creating the most flattering look as you turned in front of the mirror. 

You imagined yourself with your hair styled and matching jewelry to accompany it—you felt like a princess. Perhaps this confidence was the only thing that would help you get through the ball this evening and perhaps your entire time here. You hadn’t been around so much aristocracy in years—though you grew up privileged, you preferred to live humbly and simply focus on your hobby (and you spared your change on those in need). You were lovely yourself, no doubt, and maybe that’s why you charmed many people of different social classes as you grew more popular. 

You studied yourself through the mirror again, and it was like the polarity of your dresses reflected the fate of this new chapter of life set against the one you left behind.

The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders and an unknown heart that vowed to drown you…you suddenly felt cold. You rushed to get out of the room. 

“It’s perfect on you,” the tailor said, unable to disguise his awe when you asked him for his opinion and to ensure all the sizing was correct. You nodded in curiosity when he asked, “Now, would you like to know the inspiration behind the dress?” You always looked forward to seeing how your tailors incorporated your personality and family style into their design. 

“It’s a play on a singular topic,” he said. 

“Angels. A dual purpose signifying both the type of art you create and how you give off an entrancing allure—they will be curious about your enigmatic yet enchanting importance. That will be your statement tonight among the darker colors.” 

The earlier thought of comparing your two inspirations to angels came to mind. You decided right then—you found no need to try on any of the others. 

“I’ll have this one sent for me tonight,” you said. “Thank you again.”

Rome was alive and busy with action at every corner you turned. You strolled down the streets with no set destination, admiring the liveliness of the city. There were markets and shops everywhere and merchants with all sorts of foreign goods. 

You discovered a ruella at the corner of one street, and the door was widely opened. You peered in to see a group of women inside, probably discussing various intellectual topics. 

You decided to go inside and socialize, having nothing better to do. As you stepped into the salon, they all turned to greet you. 

“Good day, miss,” a few of them said. 

“Oh, aren’t you the Florentine artist?” one of them asked. She moved to the side so you’d have a spot to sit.

I got recognized, you thought, and you couldn’t hide your smile. 

“My husband was there awhile back,” she continued as you sat beside her. “He couldn’t stop talking about how enamored he was with your style and was sure you’d make it here next. Looks like he was correct!” 

“I’m very flattered,” you responded, a warm tint in your cheeks. 

“Did you recently arrive?” she asked. “I hope your journey here went smoothly.” 

“Yes, it went alright!” you said. “The weather wasn’t too bad, and I enjoyed the views on the way. I even passed by some lakes…” 

You felt it again. A shiver ran down your spine. The crashing of ice-cold water on your skin that stood perpendicular to summer’s balmy weather. The intense feeling to stay alive—to save yourself and the soul you did not know…

Your journey had gone smoothly up until you passed by one of the lakes near Rome. It had been a peaceful day, and your coach driver suggested that you look outside. You lifted the curtain and were received with one of nature’s blessings—verdant grass and plants that thrived around clear blue waters. 

You could’ve painted it if you remembered the sight. You truly could have if the memory of the scene wasn’t tainted by what you saw seconds after. 

“Hey, is that a person?” you asked your driver, squinting your eyes—unblemished, untouched picture shattering in your head. The land on one side of the lake was vastly elevated, creating a cliff on that end, and a figure stood in the distance.

A moment passed. 

“…Yes, my lady.” 

Your eyes weren’t betraying you—there was a man dangerously close to the cliff’s ledge, and you weren’t born yesterday to not know what he was thinking of doing. 

“Stop the wagon,” you said, a slip of panic in your tone. Your driver looked back at you hesitantly, but you ordered once again. 

“Please stop the wagon. Don’t come after me. And don’t tell anyone about this.” 

The horses carrying you came to a halt, and you rushed out of the chaise. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you at that moment—there was a random person you happened to catch making more than a terrible decision, why get involved—but you couldn’t stop now as it was like your legs were carrying you themselves. You immediately took off east towards the cliff. It would take you a few minutes until you got to the man. 

What would you even tell him? Would you try to talk him out of it? Gaslight him into stepping away from the edge? Offer to paint him a custom piece for free?—“Oh, I’m actually a famous artist in the country, I can paint you whatever you wish. But I can’t really do that if you kill yourself.” You dashed past grass and rocks as you hurried up the hill.

You would definitely have to change once you got back—the bottom of your dress was already soiled, and you were sweating.

Splash!

Your face was struck in complete horror at the loud sound. You peered over the edge to see huge ripples cascading across the surface of the lake. 

Oh shit! 

You ran back down and then towards the shore. You thanked God that you weren’t using any heavy layers under your dress that day and prayed you weren’t going to end up killing yourself as well. You knew how to swim, but the man was far from the bank. 

Am I really going to do this? 

This might’ve been the most spontaneous thing I’ve done. And the worst.

You liked to think that if you saved him, you would be rewarded in some other way. A good Samaritan—you thought. It had to be worth it. You couldn’t die before your new life even began. 

You submerged yourself into what felt like frozen water, your clothing suddenly feeling uncomfortable around you. Still, you wasted no time swimming toward the man who jumped in. 

He was already sinking—of course, this lake has to be deep. You immediately grabbed onto his waist when you got to him, but not before you took a good look at his face. He was probably of the working class because he only wore a simple white shirt. You also noticed he was covered by an absurd amount of bandages. Soft waves of brunette hair framed the man’s profile, and he looked far more content and at peace than he should’ve been. In any other situation, you would’ve thought he was taking a pleasant nap by the way his eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly parted. 

You’d never seen anyone so pretty underwater. If you hadn’t seen him as a human above land, you would’ve thought he was a mermaid or some other foreign creature. 

Your thoughts and observations were interrupted when you realized you couldn’t hold your breath any longer. Trying not to panic anymore, you first tried to drag the two of you up above the water, but you weren’t strong enough to battle the weight of it against the two of you. 

You would have to swim to shore and didn’t know if you had enough air to return. 

Well, I need to make it work anyway, you thought. You wouldn’t let this mysterious guy you didn’t know cut off everything you wanted to pursue. 

You took ahold of one of the man’s loose arms and, with determination, tried to propel yourself the way you came from, kicking your legs through the water. You were more than correct in assuming it would be complicated—the energy in your body drained quickly. 

You were only halfway from where you started when you accidentally choked. But that caused you to completely seize up—water poured into your lungs like open floodgates, and you were unable to breathe. You tried to push yourself up to get air, but you were already too weak to carry even yourself.

The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders and trying to save an unknown heart that had led to you drown—you wondered if he was still alive. He would have to be resuscitated at this point, and you realized, you too. If anyone came in time to save you, that was. You shouldn’t have had ordered your driver to not follow after you. Or rushed into the lake unprepared. 

Or involve yourself with this man. It was his decision to jump off the cliff…and now you had tied his own weight onto your life. Maybe it was all too heavy to carr—

“I’m happy to hear,” the woman replied, oblivious to and interrupting the encounter you were replaying in your head. “I wish you the most success here.” 

“Thank you,” you replied. “You are very kind.” 

“I am a bit nervous,” you whispered. “I’ll be meeting His Holiness for the first time and other artists. Do I even compare to them?” 

It was evening now. You had spent the last couple of hours preparing for the ball after exploring town—you had on the classy cream-colored dress you selected earlier from the tailor, accompanied by a couple of necklaces. Your hair was put up in a complex style and fastened by a few pieces of jewelry. 

Your mind utterly conflicted with your appearance, though. Your thoughts were in chaotic peril—you tried to hide the fact that you had been pacing around your room in anxiousness right up until Ranpo picked you up. 

“Thou art second to none, miss,” Ranpo replied with a wink and a tight squeeze of your hand. It had only half the same effect as his bear hugs the viridescent-eyed would give you when you weren’t in public, but it was enough. “There’s no reason to be nervous. You fascinated him long ago—you might’ve even been his favorite if I wasn’t here!” 

“Maybe so.” You giggled at his lighthearted smugness. “Well then, let’s get going.”

Ranpo nodded and led you through the large doors of the ballroom. Immediately, you were greeted with the celestial light from the chandeliers contrasting the dark evening sky outside. 

Your eyes drifted in awe among the artigiani and aristocratici of Rome. It was almost chimerical—you hardly remembered you were still holding Ranpo’s hand. The scene looked like it came straight out of a painting. 

“Appealing so far?” Ranpo asked, guiding you down the stairwell. “Can it stand against the Florentine carnivals?” 

You slowly nodded, still focused on the liveliness surrounding you. “It feels divine.” It was more prestigious than any event you’d been to so far—most likely because this was held in one of the Pope’s courts itself. 

“You haven’t even experienced it yet,” Ranpo laughed before leading you into the waltzing crowd. “Shall we dance?”

You and Ranpo followed the movements of the other couples. When you were sure of the pattern of the steps, your eyes wandered again to admire the setting. Everyone was dressed to the nines—although, as your tailor said, they all wore darker colors. You pretended to not notice the looks you received from strangers—however, they were not insulting. They were out of captivation and marvel.

Multiple pieces of artwork were hung around the hall, too, and you wondered if the chosen artists who created them were here now. You considered if they knew of your name too, just as you recognized theirs. 

However, your heart almost stopped when you were reminded of a completely different topic. Ranpo noticed a moment of shock flash through your eyes but did not proceed to question you. (Thankfully, he knew when you would prefer him not to be nosy.) 

You saw the back of a man’s head dressed in pure white—his brunette hair in slightly messy, soft waves. 

There is no way. 

However, you could not confirm your suspicions because he approached a lady in a beautiful, deep red gown to ask for a dance. His face and figure became completely hidden as he waltzed with her at the opposite side of the room. 

“See someone you know?” you heard Ranpo ask. 

Of course he didn’t need to be nosy, because he figured out everything about you anyway. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” you responded quietly, still trying to get a glimpse of him, but before you could say anything more, a guard standing next to the entrance silenced the entire crowd. 

“Enter, His Holiness, Fukuzawa!” 

You immediately turned around, and once more was someone dressed in white—the Pope, Yukichi Fukuzawa. You glanced at Ranpo, who gave you a nod of reassurance before politely applauding with everyone else. 

“Thank you for attending this event today,” Fukuzawa started. “Our city has made much progress due to the collaboration and contribution of our artists, so I would like to take tonight to celebrate all of them. Ultimately, I want to reveal the next upcoming project.” 

After a few more words, everyone applauded again, and the party resumed activity. You and Ranpo moved away from the dance, him deciding it was finally time to do the thing you were dreading. 

“Look over there.” Ranpo urged his head towards two men in conversation standing a few feet away. 

If the ballroom really represented the heavens, surely these two were the angels. Even without Ranpo telling you, you knew them to be Osamu Dazai and Fyodor Dostoevsky, standing side by side, white suits further proving their empyreal position.

But your eyes widened, and if you hadn’t been careful, your jaw would’ve dropped, too. Obviously, you recognized Fyodor—tall, jet-black hair—handsome and intimidating as ever, but you didn’t dwell on him for too long. Your eyes quickly scanned the room in search of a woman from earlier with dark curls, dressed in deep red, and when you found her, she was no longer dancing with the brunette dressed in white. 

You looked back at the man beside Fyodor.

It’s him. 

And as if hell—fate, whatever wanted to taunt you further, Osamu Dazai noticed you and Ranpo first, pausing his share of thoughts with the ravenette. You locked eyes with him, and you immediately became embarrassed. 

What the hell? First, one of them is my fiancé, whom I don’t even say a word to, and then the second is…him? 

Perhaps we shall meet again, were the brunette’s words to you by that lake. You truly didn’t believe him then, but it wasn’t the first time you choked on your assumptions. 

In a split second, you pulled Ranpo out of sight. “Ranpo,” you pleaded. “I can’t meet them now!” Your fingers hastily ran through your hair, making sure everything was in place. “I’m not even sure what to say-”

“You’ll have to rip off the bandage sooner or later,” he said, tugging on you. “And I say the sooner, the better! I’ll introduce you to them!” You felt even more displaced at the fact that he offered to introduce you to your own fiancé. However, before you could even object (or say, “Ranpo, somehow I already fucking know both of them!”), he dragged you back—toward the two painters. 

“Good evening, my lords,” Ranpo said as you approached them. 

You didn’t miss how Dazai’s face lit up in a curt smile. Meanwhile, Fyodor had on a neutral expression—probably the only appearance you ever saw him wear. 

“Good evening, Edogawa, the darling of His Holiness,” Fyodor said, the slightest spite in his tone. He did not glance at you at all. 

“Still as cold-hearted as ever, Il Divino-Painter,” Ranpo replied with a chuckle, but it was apparent that he did not like the man.

“I am a sculptor,” Fyodor corrected, a bogus smile still plastered on his face. 

“Don’t mind him,” Dazai said, patting your friend’s shoulder. “He’s just jealous you’re in charge of planning out the entire Vatican palace. And also at the fact His Holiness had to force him into a suit!” When Fyodor gave him a look, Dazai turned to you. 

He had eyes of the sunset, paving the way of something between hell and earth—though in a perfect world, it should’ve been the other way around because he looked as if he had just come down from heaven. You felt your cheeks warm and an uncertain feeling in your stomach. 

“Good evening, my lady,” Dazai said, knocking you out of your reverie. You blushed again as he knelt to take your hand and kiss it, bowing before you—the single minute felt longer than nox itself.

Was this the same man you met at the lake a few days ago? 

He was the artist you admired all along? 

“Apologies for not greeting you first,” he continued as he stood up. “I did see you earlier. How could anyone not notice the angel of Florence who creates masterpieces in days, especially when she looks like one tonight?” You became even more flustered by his sweet words. 

He was familiar with my name all along.

“Ah, so you already recognize her?” Ranpo asked. 

“Of course I do!” You suddenly tensed—half expecting him to reveal your previous encounter with him that you did not want anyone else to know. (If Ranpo knew, you hoped he would keep his mouth shut for your sake.) It would cause too much trouble if someone decided to spread it, and even worse if your uncle found out. He was very strict on image.

But to your relief, he did not. 

“I am very fond of your style, my lady,” Dazai said, resting his hand under his chin. “Madonna del Granduca,” one of your paintings. “You capture human sentiment and emotion so well, even in the most simplistic pieces.” 

Finally, you were able to respond to one of his compliments without becoming a mess. “Thank you.” 

“...And sfumato, your technique,” Fyodor added. “Perhaps you like her style so much because she takes it from you.” 

It was only now Fyodor finally acknowledged you. 

He may just be the son of Nyx. His intentions were tucked away behind amethyst eyes, slumbering in the peaceful twilight he allowed mercy to while all else was caught up in chaotic darkness. Maybe no one else noticed that—if anyone did, Fyodor would not be as beloved as he was now—but you did. You saw through the three strands of malice that laced his following words. 

“Good evening,” he said softly. He kneeled in front of you with your hand, tormenting you with eye contact.

“It’s an honor to see you again, miss. Though I must ask, was Florence not enough? 

“Is grasping originality so tough?

“Are you here to copy more artistic concepts to boost your own depictions of seraph?” 

He delivered a deadly kiss to your hand before you could respond, and before he could see the puzzlement on your face. 

“Excuse me?” 

But you did not falter before him as he stood back up. He did not intimidate you. 

“I’m flattered.” 

For once, the slightest sign of curiosity seeped onto Fyodor’s face.

You gave him a poisonous smile of your own. 

“Sfumato—the blending of colors to create smooth transitions between them,” you explained, giving a nod toward Dazai. “I’m honored that you immersed yourself so much with my painting that you could observe such a detail.”

Ranpo pretended to look around the hall as if he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening, while Dazai couldn’t keep a snort from escaping his throat. 

You kept your eyes fixed on your fiancé’s violet gaze, trying to figure out whether or not you’d be dead after the night was over. Actually—he seemed like the type that could seduce someone into death. Stygian black hair framed against his pallid complexion—ethereal, no doubt, yet you would not be surprised if he turned out to be the Grim Reaper’s right-hand man. (And you were supposed to marry him!)

“I’m here because His Holiness summoned me to paint the frescos in his house. I feel that if he sensed plagiarism in my work, he would’ve not trusted me with this project. 

“What about you, my lord?” 

There was a pause; he was thinking. 

“I am simply searching for something important,” he replied. “An inspiration, if you want to call it. I need it to complete a piece I have been working on.”

“And you’re sure you can find it here?” 

“You can find anything in the promised land, solnyshka.”

The foreign word rolled off of his tongue like honey. He dressed his voice to sound like a lullaby, and you remembered why you thought of him as an angel before he decided to insult you. 

What a juxtaposition. 

“What did you say?” 

“Did you not hear me?” 

He wasn’t going to tell you what he said, nor what he meant in entirety. “Nevermind. I did. Good luck trying to find it.” 

…

“May I have this next dance, my lady?” 

The charming brunette extended his left hand out to you. You had become irritated with Fyodor after his apparent distaste for you—So this is how you treat me after years of not seeing each other? You thought you could at least try becoming acquainted with him to make your inevitable fate a bit easier for both of you, but it seemed like that wasn’t happening anytime soon. You left the conversation at the nearest opportunity and moved to the other side of the room, unaware that your other dilemma was following you. 

“Lord Dazai?” 

You noticed something new about him as he stood in front of you. Those sunset orbs also harbored a concept as far as the sun. There was something distant in them that felt like half of his mind was immersed somewhere else. You wondered where. 

“I don’t like Dostoevsky at all either,” Dazai chuckled. “Even though tonight’s given me another rival on my list, I like you way more.” 

“Don’t speak so soon,” you scoffed. “You’re going to hate me when I take all your customers.” 

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, bella.” You frowned at his attempt to flirt. “And besides, many of them are very loyal to me.” 

You hesitantly took Dazai’s hand as he led you to the floor, joining the circle of couples who had already lined up to dance the almaine. 

“I’m still annoyed with you,” you said quietly as the two of you lightly skipped across the floor on your toes, never breaking eye contact with his tawny eyes. That same look was there—it was like he was thinking of everything and nothing all at once. “I’m only agreeing to this so I could boost my status. You just caught me off guard back there. That’s why I acted nice.”

He dramatically pretended he was offended. 

“Why, tesora?” Dazai took both of your hands. You circled around each other gracefully before reversing to step in the other direction. “I saved you! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be dancing here tonight and finally knowing the name of the poor soul who jumped into the lake!” 

“If it weren’t for you, I also wouldn’t have nearly drowned, idiota,” you glared. 

“Keyword: nearly!” 

You continued sulking at him while the dance went on, ignoring the rest of his defensive sentences and the friendly endearments he added to the end of them. 

“Ow!” 

Dazai had stepped on your foot during another turn. 

“What was that for?” you asked, silently observing how he made sure he did not catch your dress along too, so it would not ruin. 

“Hm? What do you mean?” Dazai spun you again; this time, he stepped on your other foot. 

“Lor- Dazai!” You disliked how much fun he was having with this. Now, he wore a mischievous gleam in his eyes that coupled an unmistakable, playful grin. 

He spun you one last time, and this time, you purposely stepped on his foot. 

“Hey—why did you do that!?” he pouted. 

“Thou did it first,” you replied dryly. “You’re a bad dancer, my lord. You can’t even keep up with the slow ballroom almain.” 

He smirked as the number concluded, and then he brought you to the center of the floor. 

You looked around to see at least half of the couples moving off, either to watch or go elsewhere. 

“Let’s see if you can keep up with this one,” he chuckled lowly. 

“What dance is this?” you asked.

“A galliard. The La Volta.” 

Your lips slightly parted to say something, but you didn’t know what. 

It made sense now why so many chose not to participate in this one. The La Volta was a bit obscene—first, the women were lifted up in springs and jumps, even though that was usually improper. It was also very fast—it would require skill to do it comfortably, especially with the long, heavy gowns you wore. 

Finally, it required close contact between the couples, which was…scandalous. Like a forbidden fruit. 

You had never danced it before. Nor had you planned to. You were engaged, after all.

I bet noone in this room, but Fyodor himself and Ranpo even know we’re to marry, though, you thought to yourself, even though you shouldn’t even be considering excuses. …And he probably couldn’t even care less.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dazai said, a bit more seriously, leaving it up to your decision, but his eyes alleged something else. Like he was pleading to let you indulge. 

The forbidden fruit and its serpent. Why was this man always tempting you to things that could sabotage your name? It was as if his heart vowed to drown you to doom…

“No, I’ll do it,” you decided. 

…yet you had let him, again and again. The descendants of Eve never learned. 

“They call you the Renaissance Man, my lord? I’ll steal your title when I show everyone I can do more than paint…and outdo you in dance.” 

“Dance is a form of art, too, y’know,” Dazai smiled before he parted from you. “How about instead, you think of it like we’re creating our own special piece together.” 

“Competition,” you disagreed in one word, curtsying before him as the drums cued.

“Collaboration,” he bowed. 

You two rose, and a new tension was ignited in the room. Your eyes locked with his again, but this time more determined—more passionate, as you gracefully swept to the left while the brunette the opposite way. You continued that movement while also gravitating closer. 

Closer, until he was finally able to lay hands on your waist. 

“Look up, miss,” Dazai softly reminded you. “Too flustered that you’ve forgotten etiquette?” 

You didn’t even realize your eyes chased down to where he was holding you—no man had touched anywhere near your corset before. You felt nervous; it was supposed to be so wrong, so why did his hold feel so right? As if his fingers were always supposed to be wrapped around you, the final touches to a masterpiece of intimacy. 

You were falling for it—the serpent’s art of seduction. This wasn’t supposed to be a collaboration. 

“What happened to your confidence?” Dazai teased, whispering in your ear; you felt his breath tickling your skin.

Your eyes drifted back to his in embarrassment, but you couldn’t give your rival the entertainment of winning against you in something you proposed. Fighting against your nerves, you wrapped one of your arms around Dazai’s broad shoulder.

“Shut up.”

He lifted you by the hips to aid as you lept and turned around him, his left thigh pushing you upward, and that same nervous excitement returned to your stomach. It was as if pools conjoining both everything and oblivion at once lay physically on you. His gaze resembled hands—he caressed your shoulders; he traced your face like he wanted to paint every angle of you. 

He was gentle with his actual hold on you, too; Dazai carried you as delicately as the brush strokes he made on canvas. He carefully set you down with ease after every jump while still treating you like a porcelain doll, and there you made the mistake of wandering your eyes down to his lips, lightly parted—you realized this was the second closest time this man had come near enough to kiss you. 

His body was so warm, he could pull you flush against him if he wanted to. His breath was minty, the coolness of his mouth addicting, and if Eden smelled heavenly too, he had truly just slithered down, carrying the sweet, earthly scent along with him. All your senses were overloaded by the man standing before you like alcohol; you wondered if you’d even end up home by the end of the night. 

“You’re enjoying this way more than to simply boost thy status.” 

In that moment, you snapped out of your haze of dopamine, and the music faded into a new routine. You also realized that an entire audience had been watching you. That was not ideal. 

You scooted back right after Dazai released his hold on you, looking down in coyness. “Maybe I’m just a good actor.” 

“You’re a terrible one,” he chuckled, following you out of the crowd. “You can’t even look at me to sell your lie!” 

You glared at the brunette once more. “I don’t have to look at you to tell you the truth.” 

“So cold-hearted,” he sighed. “Even after a dance to loosen you up. Guess I need to work harder to ask you out.”

“For what, a double suicide?” You once again recalled some other things he had said during your weird, fated meet at the lake. 

“Exactly! You remember!” 

“Well, sorry, that’s not happening,” you responded. “Go find some other lady to ask. I’m sure you do this all the time anyway.”

Because how did he touch you so perfectly? How did he dim out every other person in the room to make it seem like it was just you two?

He paused. “No, I don’t. You’re the first person I danced this galliard with. You realize we were even in skill, right?” 

“Didn’t seem like it. And I don’t understand why you chose me.”

“You fascinate me, angel of Florence,” Dazai said. “You did save me in a way. Sure, we’re rivals. But one day, I’ll paint you myself. 

“You’re too beautiful to not.” 

…

“I hope you all have had a lovely night,” Fukuzawa spoke over the room. “To conclude the gathering, I would like to announce what the Vatican’s next project will be.” 

Artists all around you waited in anticipation, for good reason. You and Dazai looked at each other too. You’d already experienced it for yourself—a commission from the Pope himself guaranteed immediate, enormous success (and money; your job from him was your biggest pay so far). Whatever he proposed required another artist, and it could be anyone in the room. 

“The Sistine Chapel,” Fukuzawa said. “The large crack that has formed along the ceiling is to be repaired in the upcoming year.” 

There were a few chatters after that. The chapel was insanely impressive—the interior of the large building was covered in stunning frescos by some of the great artists who had come before you. Even though the Pope hadn’t even said what the job was to be, anyone working on things concerning it would have to be just as good as its predecessors. 

“Along with reparations, its panels shall be painted.” 

There were a few gasps from the patrons. Was that even possible? How could someone even paint the ceiling without it being taken off of the roof? And it was so large, too, like a mega-sized canvas. 

It was unheard of. 

“I have already selected the person I would like to work on this,” Fukuzawa continued. There was silence again. 

“It’s probably Dostoevsky,” Dazai said to you. 

Fyodor? “Why do you think so?” you asked. 

“He completely stole the spotlight with that statue of David he finished this year,” he dryly chuckled. “Well deserved, I’m afraid. You saw it too when you were in Florence, did you?” 

“Yeah,” you replied. You had to acknowledge how impressive it was for yourself. It was like the man turned hard stone into pliable clay. 

“But that’s sculpting, not painting.” 

“Oh? Do you think you’d be a better candidate?” 

He was smiling again. “No, I never said that,” you scoffed. “I was going to say maybe you’d have a chance-”

“Fyodor Dostoevsky,” Fukuzawa said.

Oh.

You paused, scanning the room to see where he was. 

He was on the other side, intently making his way to the Pope. 

“I request you to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.” 

Fyodor stood in front of him and then bowed. 

“...I offer my sincerest gramercy for this opportunity, Your Holiness,” the artist said.

There was a pause.

“…I would like to discuss the rest of what this entails in private.” 

Your brows furrowed. That was almost a bit…rude. Sure, he hadn’t declined the offer, but for whatever reason, he also didn’t accept it. 

“Very well,” Fukuzawa replied without a change in his tone. “I adjourn this party. Bonam noctem.”

There was a final applause for him and the city’s next project, and then everyone began filing out. 

However, you and Dazai stayed in place until Ranpo suddenly tugged on your arm. 

“There you are! Let’s go!” 

“W-Where?” you asked as he started to drag you away. 

“Goodnight!” you heard Dazai say before disappearing into the crowd. His small smile remained in your memory, and a part of you wished you could give him a proper goodbye.

“To eavesdrop, duh,” Ranpo replied as he sifted you through everyone moving the opposite way. “Don’t you also want to hear what Fyodor has to say?” 

“I don’t understand why he didn’t just accept the proposal,” you said. “Anyone else would do it in a heartbeat!” You were sort of jealous; that job was given to someone so ungrateful! If you were the one who recieved it, you would’ve put your entire effort into transforming the ceilings right away. 

“I don’t know how he’s so beloved,” Ranpo continued. “Not even His Holiness likes him that much; he just doesn’t show bias when choosing people to paint his architecture. Did you know Fyodor was supposed to produce his tomb?” 

“What happened with that? I thought it was being worked on by a few other artists.” 

“He kept clashing with His Holiness about it,” he said. “Until the plans got so messed up, Fyodor called it a ‘tragedy’ and left Rome for a while. Quite literally abandoned it.” 

What an asshole! Especially in front of His Holiness!

“I don’t like him at all,” Ranpo squeezed your arm. It had become quite apparent to you that Ranpo admired Fukuzawa—not just because he was his so-called favorite or because he was the Pope, but something else. You had seen them together during the party earlier, and you were reminded of father and son. “He has a nasty ego, and I can’t figure out his intentions. I feel off every time I meet with him.” 

“Intentions? For what?” 

“Don’t be stupid, miss,” Ranpo said. “He told you himself, he’s here for something. It’s just so annoying! He hides it all behind those stupid, purple eyes…” 

You approached the entrance to a hallway at the very back of the room, and you heard two familiar voices outside. 

“...I carve marble, not paint.” 

“You discredit your skill with a brush too much.”

“Your Holiness, we had very different views during the last commission you gave me,” you overheard Fyodor say. “I simply don’t want to cause another commotion with this.” 

You only peeked through the large doorway to hear more clearly, but Ranpo continued walking right in as if they wouldn’t notice. 

“R-Ranpo!” you whispered harshly.

Immediately, Fukuzawa and Fyodor looked at you both, and you scrambled behind Ranpo. 

“I’m so sorry, Your Holiness,” you replied, accidentally locking eyes with Fyodor, who looked at you unfazed as if he had already noticed you two a mile away. You couldn’t even think of an excuse to explain what you were doing there, but then Fukuzawa resumed the conversation without a care. 

“I see then,” he replied and then gave it some thought. “I felt you were the only one who was fit for the matter, but perhaps I could just hand it to-” 

Fukuzawa looked at you, and Fyodor looked at him before looking at you. 

“Ah, what I said was just a concern,” Fyodor interrupted to your dismay. “I’ll accept your commission on one condition.” 

The three of you waited. 

“On the contract, it shall be stated that noone shall view the inside of the Chapel until it is completed,” Fyodor stated. “Including yourself, Your Highness.” 

He thought for another moment. 

“Very well, Fyodor. It will be arranged.” 

What a rat!

It had been a few weeks since that eventful ball. You had started work on painting the rooms in the Pope’s chambers—there were sketches of concepts scattered all over your desk. Coupled with your thoughts—thoughts reliving all the situations you were thrown into that night. 

You hadn’t seen the two angels since then. Well…would you even call them that anymore?

Knock, knock, knock!

“Hey! Let me in!” You heard Ranpo’s voice from outside your house. You were still half-asleep, trying to make breakfast, but you immediately rushed to open the door. 

“Ranpo!” You were startled. “What are you doing here so early?” 

“Stop complaining. You’re going to love this.” 

He stuck his hand into his pocket and then revealed a set of shiny keys. 

“Sitting in my palm are the keys to the Sistine Chapel.”

“No way.” It was like the sight fully awakened you, like caffeine. “Ranpo…how?!” 

“Hmph!” He shook his head. “You underestimate me so much when you quite literally depend on me!” When you laughed, he continued. “Lord Fyodor’s on a business trip until next week. Do with that info as you wish.” 

“You’re a genius,” you replied with a mischievous grin as he threw you the keys. 

“Of course I am! I despise him, but I’m too lazy to mess with him right now, so I’ll just leave it up to you. After all, he didn’t want to do it initially because he thought you set it up.” 

“By me?” you asked, shocked. “He hates painting so much that he thought I had a hand in it? Imagine giving away the Sistine Chapel.”

He was really something else. Was dead set on declining the offer right until His Holiness debated giving it to me…

…

Ranpo sat at the dining table eating the remaining tarts left over while you finished washing the dishes in the kitchen after your meal. Your move had gone smoothly, and you were pleased with the home you created for yourself—the windows in front of the sink were opened, letting air and the sounds of nature in as you looked outside. 

“His Holiness instructed me to paint over the previous works in the Palace when I first walked inside because he deemed what I could produce more important than what was already up there,” you told him with your own dash of pride. You couldn’t contain the bright smile that flashed on your face. 

“Just as I suspected,” he replied, pleased. 

“...But social-wise, I think I dug a hole for myself.” 

“Definitely!” Ranpo said with no hesitation, popping another dessert into his mouth. He already knew what you were going to talk about. You gave him a look before sighing, realizing that he probably was right.

“A few days ago, I overheard people in the salons saying that…I have a special thing going on with Lord Dazai. It’s not true! I don’t know why he was being so friendly with me!” 

You hadn’t even seen him after that night. Maybe you were a little disappointed, but you should’ve seen that coming anyway. He was known as a charmer, but he hadn’t committed to anyone. And regardless, you were to marry Fyodor one day. 

Ugh, Fyodor.

“And you were friendly to him in return,” Ranpo replied. “You could’ve shrugged him off like normal rivals do. But it looked like you were completely enraptured with him.” 

Enraptured?! He was completely enraptured with me! However, you couldn’t describe to Ranpo how exactly he was—how the brunette’s eyes pleaded with yours to follow him into the eventide, how he made you feel like the only person that existed in the large crowd of people…maybe Ranpo would have his point proven.

“Well, other than that, I’ve got thee settled in Rome well enough. I’ll be here for the rest of the unwise decisions you’re going to make, but from here on out is on you, princess.” 

“Thanks, Ranpo,” you sarcastically replied. “Seriously? Unwise decisions? Rome is just different from everywhere I’ve been to before. I’m learning.” 

“Exactly, there are arts of everything,” he said. “Thou better grasp them quick or fall behind.” 

Dance. 

Deceit.

Dreams. 

Only a few you had discovered so far. 

“You fascinate me, angel of Florence. You did save me in a way.”

You couldn’t even grasp,

Dazai.

You didn’t know how long you were out. All sense of time was lost when you gained consciousness again, and you realized you had been washed up on land. 

Did God stay true to your pleas? Did an angel really come down to rescue you?

That was certainly what it seemed like in the first few seconds because you were blinded by light when you opened your eyes. You heard insects buzzing off in the distance and maybe even a bird chirping as you lay on lush grass. Perhaps you were in heaven instead, and this was your first taste of peaceful paradise. 

But all was ruined when your eyes finally focused, and a face obstructed your view. (Why was he always ruining your flawless moments?) He hovered on top of you, and the first thing you became aware of was that his mouth was dangerously close to yours. 

You immediately coughed—out of both shock and the need to. Lake water gushed out of your mouth, causing you to sit up without warning. The brunette was flung off of you, landing harshly on his bottom.

“Ow!”

You paid no mind to him as you coughed again. And again. 

When all the water was finally out of your lungs, you looked at him in utter confusion.

“Why the puzzled look?” he asked as if he wasn’t the one who was drowning and you weren’t the one saving him (and less importantly, it hadn’t looked like he was about to kiss you).

Now he sat beside you, almost perfectly fine if it weren’t for his clothes that were soaked. 

“But…you—we were drowning?” You turned to see if anyone else was in the distance because who was it that saved both of you? 

“Yeah, I was drowning,” the man replied, and you now noticed the honey color of his eyes that had been shielded behind closed eyelids and pretty eyelashes earlier. “And this time, it almost worked! Until you decided to rescue me!” 

“Um, what?” You asked sharply, even more bewildered at the way he tried to make your efforts sound negative. 

“At first, I thought maybe thou were a lovely lady who wanted to commit double suicide with me! But I realized that wasn’t the case when you started fighting to get some air…” 

“Are you crazy?” you asked, not caring whether you were speaking impolitely or not. “Double suicide? Why else would I dive into a cold lake to join a stranger? And you were aware of what was happening all along?” 

“Maybe! Women have done a lot to try to get close to me.” You didn’t believe him. “And, well, yeah! Obviously, I couldn’t continue because of two things. The first was you because I couldn’t let an innocent involved be harmed along with me! I had to save you, of course.” 

You became even more irritated. “You wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t pretend you were drowning! I had to use all my strength to rescue you, y’know! I could’ve died as well!” 

“But you didn’t!” the brunette replied. “There was no way I was going to let someone so beautiful drown.”

You scowled at him before you stood up. “You’re ridiculous. What’s your second reason?” 

“Drowning in a lake ended up becoming uncomfortable.” You wanted to punch him in the face—uncomfortable was an obvious understatement. “I didn’t like the feeling of suffocation that set in, so I just decided to give up.” 

“It didn’t even look like you had any air left in you,” you muttered, facing your back towards him, remembering his placid expression earlier. “How were you conscious if you weren’t even holding your breath?” 

“Party trick,” he responded, and when you dared to glance back, he wore a smug grin. 

“Oh…are you leaving me then?” he asked as you started walking away, saying no more. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” you scoffed, not stopping. “I’m completely soaked, and I don’t know about you, but I have important things to get to.” 

You heard a chuckle from him. “Is that so?” he asked. His voice was getting farther, meaning he was no longer following you. “Where are you headed?” 

“Rome.” 

“I live there. Perhaps we shall meet again. And then, I could ask you—properly—if you would like to commit a double suicide with me.” 

“I doubt it,” you replied, assured you were never going to see this man whose face looked kissed by Aphrodite herself again. Perhaps you would’ve found him handsome if he was in a less disheveled state. 

As if you did not already. 

“Why do you seem so sure? Anything can happen.” He chuckled once again. 

Well, I am a painter, and you don’t look like someone who would even have an eye for art, is what you wanted to say. But you didn’t want to open more doors to curiosity and stay there even longer. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you stopped. “Okay, then.

“If you think you’re going to see me again, can you promise to not kill yourself until then? Until I agree to you?” 

You figured you would just give him some hope so that your efforts to save him would not be in vain. If he would actually keep your word, anyway. 

When you turned around, the brunette was still standing on the shore, and he had a smile on his face. 

He really did carry the setting sun in his gaze. It was still midday, but the man’s soul seemed to prefer the softer shades of light that appeared just before the cool shades of night. 

And you felt his eyes tenderly cupping your face, even though you were feet away from each other. You weren’t sure if you were so lost that you were imagining things—but he looked at you as if he’d known you a hundred lifetimes, longing to touch your soul once again. 

“I pinkie promise,” he said. 

You thought that finally ended the conversation, but he asked one more thing. 

“Your name?” he asked. 

“Do you really need it?” It was unlikely, but you didn’t know if he would recognize your name. You didn’t want to risk anyone knowing about this encounter. 

“I saved you,” he said. “I almost thought you were done for. You still weren’t breathing when I performed chest compressions, so I had to—” 

“Okay, stop right there!” you interrupted, becoming flustered. You didn’t need to hear the rest. You imagined the stranger’s mouth on yours—trying to give you oxygen, of course, but his mouth on yours regardless. 

You told him your name. “Don’t bother with yours. I’ll figure it out if we run into each other again.” 

His grin was smug. “Fare thee well, mia belladonna.

“Until we meet again.” 

…

“You can find anything in the promised land, solnyshka.”

ur man of choice (or both if u’d like) dances with u during the ball if u rb; reblogs are incredibly cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

WE DID ITT !! i hope this was decent, tbh i’m rly nervous HAHA ᡣ𐭩 dazai rly got most of the love here, but i promise there’s waay more to come.

+ check THIS FOR EXTRA INFO/LORE, it’s cool ;) comment on the masterlist to be added to the tagslist !! & ilu if you made it this far, thank you so so much for reading ᰔ

TERMS & DEFINITIONS:

CIOPPA - outermost layer of a dress

RUELLA - salons/social gatherings

ALMAINE - slow court dance; GALLIARD - fast court dance (in the renaissance)

TRANSLATIONS: (not all bcz they wanna be mysterious)

gramercy - “thank you”

artigiani; aristocratici - artisans; aristocrats (italian)

bonam noctem - “good night” (latin)

© AUREATCHI 2024. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + animated line divider by cafekitsune. header + series dividers mine; DO NOT SAVE.

[eilishsmuse]

comfortable silence is so overrated

— billie eilish x fem!reader

context. it’s been four months after the whole incident between billie and you. after many mental breakdowns the past months you’ve finally got over it. billie on the other hand could say otherwise. when you see her at a party she pulls you for a chat. but why?

cw. swearing, drinking, confessions, toxicity, billie realizing she fucked up, billie is also a total mess, dumping feelings, lowkey sexual tension

soundtrack. from the dinning table – harry styles

original. i hate that i can’t love you

It’s been a while since the argument with Billie. You two haven’t spoken since. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

For a while, you were completely wrecked ever since the whole situation happened. For a good month you had to do no-contact with everyone you knew. You felt embarrassed and ashamed for what you felt toward Billie. You both agreed on the contract. At least that’s what you kept on telling yourself.

Now 4 months later you were completely over it.

You were sat on a couch at one of your friends backyard house party here in LA. He worked within the music industry and was the main reason you met Billie.

You had a red solo cup in hand. With whatever concoctions your friend mixed for the party.

As your friend group started talking about some gossip within the celebrity slash influencer industry your eyes started drifting around.

People watching.

As your eyes scanned the room they took a quick double take at a certain somebody. Billie.

She’s laughing with a bunch of her friends and they’re all standing around her like she’s the leader of their ‘posse’. You immediately look away and immediately feel uneasy as her face is now engraved in your mind.

You excuse yourself from your friends to go get a drink, swiftly getting off the couch and walking over towards the bar area.

Billie takes a quick inventory of the house party her friend had invited her to. Tons of people she recognizes from the music industry, but also not a lot of people she likes either. Her gaze falls from group to group, finally landing back on her friends.

A few influencers from social media, a couple of producers from her record label...and a familiar face.

Billie’s heart does a backflip as her eyes land on you, noticing how beautiful you looked in that leather skirt with that tight red laced top.

Shit.

Immediately, she has an almost visceral reaction to the sight of you.

Everything about you looks so good, from your hair to your outfit.

Billie wants to go up to you, grab you and lock you in a room, kiss you until you can’t even remember your own name.

But she can’t.

She bites the inside of her cheek, eyes glued on you from across the room.

You order a coconut margarita from the bartender and let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a brief second.

The music was loud in your ears and hard in your chest. And on top of that your heart was already beating out your chest thanks to Billie being here.

You opened your eyes again to your drink being set in front of you. You mutter a small thanks to the bartender and immediately take a sip from the margarita glass.

Billie’s eyes follow you as you order the drink, the sight of you talking to the bartender making her heart jump into her throat.

Jesus, you’re even more beautiful in person than in her memory.

Billie grips the solo cup in her hand tighter, watching as you take a sip from the glass. She tries to swallow, dry throat making it hard.

For a few seconds, Billie considers going over to you.

What would she even say? She can’t tell you that she’s missed you. The contract was clear. No feelings.

Billie has been completely unable to get you out of her mind since the fight. Her heart aches every time she thinks about the way your face looked, so upset and pleading...

Billie bites her lip as you move to walk away from the bar.

Hell, she has to talk to you. At least let you know something.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Billie starts towards you. Her heart is throbbing against her ribcage, nearly threatening to burst through every time she takes a step forward.

Deep breath. Just talk to her. You’re just talking to her.

Billie arrives next to you, standing a few inches away and trying to look relaxed.

“Hey.”

You turn your head to the side to the familiar voice and you’re immediately met with those stupidly, beautiful blue eyes.

You don’t react physically.

But your heart and head are sure as hell pounding inside.

“Hi.”

Billie’s not used to you not having a big reaction to her presence.

When you turn towards her, she’s again hit with how attractive you are, her eyes involuntarily flicking down your body.

Billie quickly brings her eyes back up, meeting yours. She’s a little speechless.

“You look,” she coughs. “You look good.”

What is she even saying?? Billie, get it together for crying out loud.

Your eyebrows raise for a split second but then furrow in part confusion and surprise.

You open your mouth to say ‘you too’ but you don’t wanna give Billie the satisfaction of feeling like she has you wrapped around her finger all over again.

Even though she does look good in her backwards cap and those fucking glasses—

Stop it, Y/N.

Instead you stop the words from leaving your mouth and give her a small smile, “Thanks.”

God, your smile could kill her.

Billie’s heart does a little backflip when you do, the familiarity of it making her chest ache.

She’s missed you. She’s missed you so damn much, but she can’t tell you that.

It’s not just your smile that’s attractive either. That leather skirt you’re wearing drives her absolutely insane, making her want to grab ahold of you and press you up against the nearest wall...

A blush creeps into her cheeks at the thought.

Billie’s heart skips a beat at the small smile, and once again she’s thrown off.

You seem...unbothered to her presence. Usually you’re happy, or at least visibly excited to see her.

Which is exactly what Billie doesn’t want.

She swallows, adjusting her hat. “Yeah, uh, no problem.”

Billie can’t help scanning you over again, her eyes tracing the lines of your body.

Get a hold of yourself, Billie.

You on the other hand, can tell how nervous Billie seemed to be talking to you. From the hat adjustments, the fidgeting of her rings, and the way her eyes would wonder to other parts of you.

The parts she even started talking to you in the first place for.

That’s right.

Billie only really wanted you for one thing. The sex.

A straight face was what you held when you reminded yourself of her not forgotten actions.

There’s a pause in the conversation, and it’s starting to make Billie a little nervous.

You’re not reacting the way she thought you would. Why aren’t you blushing, or staring, or smiling back?

She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to think of something to say. Her eyes flick down to the solo cup in your hands, then back up.

“What, uh, what are you drinking?”

Really, Billie? What are you drinking? Nice one.

“A marg.”

The words leaving your lips dryly and uninterested.

Billie swallows again as she eyes the red cup in your hand. She’s starting to feel like even more of a tool.

Her eyes flick up to yours, and she’s stuck by how composed you seem to be. Like the last few months never even happened.

“Marg?” she asks, repeating you. “Like...margarita?”

You blink at Billie once, a straight face staring at right back at hers.

“What are you doing?” You began, eyebrows furrowed at her poor attempts to make conversation.

“I mean,” You begin to look around the yard and then back at her, “Why are you talking to me?”

Billie blinks at the question, eyes widening. She opens her mouth to answer, but words fail her.

Why was she talking to you?

You’re right. Why is she?

For a few seconds, she’s at a loss. She can’t exactly say “because I miss you” or “because everything reminds me of you”.

She shoves her hands into her pockets, shoulders lifting in a shrug.

“I dunno.”

There’s another brief pause, and Billie’s heart is hammering in her chest as she desperately tries to think of something, anything else to say.

She’s starting to have the feeling that she shouldn’t have even come over, but the pull to you is stronger than her brain right now, and it seems like you’re not going to give her an easy out.

“Look, I...”

Billie pauses again, licking her lips.

“I wanted to talk to you, okay?” She finally says, and her voice comes out a little more gruff than she intended.

Billie’s not used to having to struggle to talk like this. She’s used to having people pay attention to her, listen to her, and do what she says.

But with you it’s different.

You aren’t giving her the usual response, and it’s making her feel even more vulnerable.

A small, sarcastic smile plays on your lips, “And you thought I’d want to as well?”

At this point your margarita left your hand and sat on the bar top, you crossed your arms and looked at Billie with a slight tilt of your head.

Billie’s eyes follow the movement of your margarita being set down, and she can’t really blame you for not wanting to talk to her.

She’d expected you to not want to talk, so why hadn’t she just stayed away?

“I...I just...” Billie’s eyes dart around, her voice getting a little more hushed.

“I just wanted to...I don’t know,” she pauses again, her hand fiddling with the ring on her finger. It’s antsy, anxious, something she hates feeling.

“What?”

Your eyebrows are furrowed and your face has confusion written all over it, “Wanted me to sign another NDA?”

Your voice now low and hushed so only Billie could hear.

Ouch.

Billie winces at your words, even though she more than deserves them.

Her shoulders drop, her eyes going down to the floor for a few seconds. Her stomach clenches, and she swallows.

“No...that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Billie looks up to you, her eyes pleading.

You nod at her slowly and raise your hands in a ‘why’ motion, “So why are we talking?”

You study her body language.

She’s uncomfortable and worried. Clearly.

She’s stuttering over her words, her hands are more clearly messing with the hem of her shirt, her chest is falling and rising with more speed.

Shit.

She looks exactly like you that one day. And now you’re starting to feel like shit.

But you don’t let it show. You shake it off and keep your exterior, a small minuscule change in the way your eyes looked at her.

Billie’s shoulders straighten as she tries to look more confident, but your cool response is really making her crumble inside.

In the last four months, she’s been unable to think of anything except your face, your body, your voice, everything. She’d tortured herself over what she was going to say if she saw you again.

And now here you were in front of her, aloof and impassive.

And it was killing her.

“I...I wanted to talk to you about us.”

You took a steady breath in at her words and looked elsewhere in the party, letting the breath out and looking back over to Billie.

You swallowed and kept eye contact with her for a few seconds, finally opening your mouth.

“There’s no more us Billie.”

Your tone was gentle and quiet. Your face was now replaced with a much softer look and a somewhat saddened expression.

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

Even though Billie knew that was coming, it still hurts to hear you say it out loud.

She swallows again, trying to control the way she’s feeling.

“I...I know that, but I…I just...”

There’s a pause as she wracks her brain for the right thing to say. No, not the right thing to say. The truth.

“I miss you,” she says, her words barely a whisper.

I miss you.

What the fuck?

She’s bullshitting you Y/N.

You blink slowly at her and her words, letting out a shaky breath. A look of anger, betrayal, and sadness all flashing on your face.

All silently.

It was the exact same look you held when you had your argument.

You looked at your drink on the bar-top and took it in your hand, not sharing eye contact with Billie.

Not saying a single word.

The tension was high.

The music was still loud.

The beat in your chest pounded harder.

It was all too much.

So you walked away. You went straight toward the more secluded part of the party where no one was. It was a balcony that overlooked all of Los Angeles.

The bright city lights never looked more interesting. You were really only trying to get rid of Billie’s words out your mind.

Billie watches as you walk away, the emotions clearly written on your face.

Her heart sinks as you reject her words and leave.

She can’t help it.

She follows, weaving quickly through the crowd and around the corners of the house until she finally gets to that balcony.

She takes a few steps forward, closing the space between the two of you. When she can safely assume she’s not going to startle you, Billie speaks up.

“Please don’t run away.”

You look up at the sky with closed eyes and mentally ask the world to give you mercy for this conversation.

Argument really.

You turn around and look Billie straight in the eye.

“I mean what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your voice confused, angry, and sad. Your face contorted into some sort of mixed emotions.

Billie’s heart flutters in her chest at the sound of your voice again.

This was the reaction she wanted.

No, the reaction she wanted was you kissing her and pulling her flush against your warm body.

But right now this anger was the only thing she could get. Anything was better than indifference.

“What’s wrong with me?”

Billie’s voice is laced with disbelief, coming to stand next to you on the edge of the balcony.

“Yes!”

Helplessness laced in your tone.

“What kind of fucked up shit are you up to? ‘I miss you.’ I mean what the fuck!”

Billie’s chest is rising and falling with her heavy breathing as she stands there, trying to find the words to say that will help you understand, that will get you to listen.

“I’m not up to anything!” She insists. “I just...”

Billie reaches out and lays her hand on your arm, trying to ignore the way her skin tingles when she touches you.

“Please, let me explain.”

You retract your arm from Billie’s grip almost immediately, the contrast of the feeling of her cold rings and warm hand leaving goosebumps on your skin.

“Don’t touch me.”

And at this point your eyes are starting to burn, your teeth are biting at your lips to stop yourself from saying anything wrong.

Her heart drops in her chest as you shove away from her. Billie can tell that you’re getting overwhelmed, and it’s breaking her heart to watch it happen.

She pulls her hand away, clenching her fingers into a fist.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she says quietly, her voice as gentle as she can make it.

Billie’s eyes dart around your face, a mixture of guilt, hurt, and panic written all over her features. Seeing you this upset does something to her— it’s like she can’t breathe.

“Please just listen to me,” she says again, her voice coming out more desperate. Whiny. “Please...”

She takes a step forward, trying to get closer to you again, aching to soothe the agitation in your body.

Billie can’t handle you being this upset. The air is thick, and her chest feels heavy with the need to touch you, to make you feel better.

But she knows if she tries, you’re going to push her away again.

You don’t say anything. You’re silent.

You know if you speak up you’ll regret saying the things that’ll come out your mouth. So you don’t speak.

You let Billie say what she wants to say.

Billie lets out a shaky sigh, and a few hairs that had fallen loose from her cap blow in the cool night air.

“I...”

She bites her bottom lip, trying to keep her hands still and not reach out for you again.

“When I said I missed you...I meant it.”

There’s a hint of frustration in her words.

“Please, look at me.”

So you do.

You look up from the railing of the balcony and to Billie. Your eyes are red and teary-eyed. You’re tired. And it’s written all over your face.

Billie’s eyes widen slightly at the tears now gathering in your eyes.

No.

She didn’t mean to make you cry. That wasn’t what she was trying to accomplish.

Billie’s heart clenches, aching to pull you into her arms and take away any and all pain you’d felt in the four months apart.

“Hey...”

She steps closer to you, gently placing a hand on your cheek to brush away the few tears that have fallen.

And at this point, you’ve completely given up on trying to get away from Billie.

You lean into her touch and let out a sob.

Your heart breaks and your body practically aches with pain and heat. You missed her and you were tired of pretending you didn’t.

“Billie.”

Your voice came out as a whiny cry, like a little kid who mourned the loss of their first pet.

The sound that comes out of you twists at something deep inside Billie’s chest, a wave of helplessness washing over her.

She doesn’t want to make you cry. She wants you to be happy. She wants to make sure you’re as happy as possible, to see you smile that gorgeous smile again—not cry like this.

“Shhh...don’t cry,” Billie murmurs, her other hand coming up to cradle your face.

She’s impossibly gentle, as if you’re something precious to be handled with care.

And you are. That’s exactly what Billie thinks of you. She knows you need to be handled with care.

You are precious...

Billie brushes her thumbs across your cheeks, wiping away the fallen tears. Her brain is running a mile a minute, desperately trying to think of something, anything that will help you feel better.

She hates you hurting like this. Hating the fact that she is the reason you’re hurting.

“Please...just stop crying...you’re breaking my heart...”

“I still—“

Your voice is cracking and whiny. Your burning eyes look up into Billie’s blue ones.

“I still love you.”

Billie’s heart stops in her chest.

She stares down at you, shocked to hear those three words come out of your mouth.

I still love you.

Billie’s eyes rake across your face, looking for any sign of a lie in your words, but all she sees is an exhausted pain and vulnerability.

“Baby...” she whispers.

Billie’s hands still haven’t left their place on your cheeks, her fingers shaking against you as she processes what you just said.

“You...you still love me?”

Her words are quiet and hesitant, like she’s half afraid of what the answer will be.

Billie’s eyes flicker around your face, noting all of the emotions written on your features—a mirror to the ones she’s feeling right now.

Love. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Despair. Excitement. Exhaustion. Desire.

It’s all there, plain as day on both of your faces.

Just then your hearing was hushed. Your body grew slack and your heartbeat slowed.

You surged forward without any thought whatsoever.

Your lips ended up on Billie’s.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

This is all you’ve ever wanted these past four months no matter how much you denied it. You missed her. You missed her so much. And all you wanted right now was for her to hold you.

Billie is completely caught off guard when you kiss her, letting out a soft gasp against your mouth before finally giving in.

Finally. Finally.

She’s needed this. No, she’s craved this. These past few months have been long, and lonely, and exhausting. But now you’re here and finally, finally she can touch you again.

One of her hands slide from your cheek to the back of your neck, keeping you close as she kisses you back.

Billie’s lips move against yours frantically, pressing hard and desperate. She’s trying to pour everything she’s feeling into this kiss. And she wants to hear, to feel you do the same.

Her chest is burning, her heart is racing, and when she finally pulls back for a breath, her breathing is ragged. Billie looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes, the blue of her irises almost lost in the darkness of her wide pupils.

“I’m sorry,” You breathed out, lip quivering with adrenaline, “I didn’t mean all the fucked up shit I said.”

You gripped at Billie’s shoulder and forearm so tight that there’d probably bruises after you let go.

But Billie doesn’t care if you leave bruises.

In fact, she’d relish in it.

A physical reminder of what this night and this moment meant to both of you.

She lets out a shaky breath, her eyes never leaving your face. “I don’t care, baby. It’s alright. I forgive you. I forgive you. Just...please...let me...”

Billie pauses, biting her lip. She knows what she wants. But she can’t come out and say it. Not right now. Her throat feels like it’s closing up.

She swallows roughly and tries again. “Please...let me make it up to you...and...and prove to you I still...that I still...”

Billie’s words get caught in her throat, and her fingers tighten even more around your body, trying to get her thoughts in order.

“Please just...” her voice drops to a low whisper, “please just...let me...love you...love me back...”

There’s a pleading in her voice, a desperate undertone to her words.

Your grip becomes tighter at her words as you look in her eyes. Your heart was practically beating in your ears and throughout your whole body.

Your head felt dizzy and your breathing picked up again.

The whiny tone Billie voice picked up made your skin tingle. You’ve wanted this for so long.

The yearning.

The begging.

And now you finally had it.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

When you say yes, it’s like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. And a deep-seated, burning feeling settles in the pit of her stomach.

“Then you’ll have it.”

It’s the only response that comes out of Billie’s mouth before she’s kissing you again, her hands pulling you even closer to her body.

Her arms wrap around you and she’s practically clinging to you, like this is the last time she’s ever going to get to touch you.

Billie didn’t take you back to the party after the balcony.

Instead, she took you back to her home.

And you spent the rest of the night wrapped in her sheets and in her arms, whispers of love and forgiveness exchanged between you both as the hours passed.

And in the morning, when you woke up, Billie was already awake holding you in her arms, watching you sleep as she stroked your hair with the gentlest of touches.

And after those long 4 months. She no longer hated the fact that she couldn’t love you the way you were meant to be loved.

‧₊˚✩彡

fer speaks!!!

yay happy ending! i beg of y’all to throw some requests at me 🙏🏼

[meowhara]

Mafia!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader

tw : abuse, mistreatment, usage of bad languages, death, kidnapping

synopsis : In a world where hybrids are becoming a common thing. Scientists sells their experiments for a very high price in auctions, making it possible for anyone with such kind of money to own a hybrid or even more

author's note : OMG! this will be my very first fanfic ever. I hope y'all enjoy this little fanfic I made in such a very short time. I'm so so sorry if there's anything wrong with my grammars or maybe you got confused by how I write things in general. English isn't my first language :)

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Experimenting with human beings are normal by now all around the world, making hybrids one of the most expensive and valuable assets. They're usually sold with a very high price in auctions, anyone who's able to lay a hand on those hybrids must be some very crazy rich and lucky people.

You're those kind of fine breed, sold for an unbelievably high price. But sadly luck wasn't on your side due to how irresponsible your new owner is. He never took care of you like how people should took care of hybrids. He abandoned you, feeding you poorly, using you only for your small and fragile body. Treating you like an animal and make you do his daily chores such as cooking, cleaning, and even doing his laundry. But you never complain, there's nothing you can do and nowhere to escape.

You don't even know how the hell he was able to purchase you from the auction since he doesn't even look like a wealthy man at all. Who's job is only to sell and purchase drugs from here and there then spend shit ton of money for women and other useless things. He woke up late at the day just to hurt you then leave and came back late at night. Sometimes he didn't even bother to come back home, leaving you hungry and lonely inside his small and packed house in the middle of nowhere.

For the past moths he has been stealing drugs from Mafia!Miguel. Miguel tried to track him down for months without any avail and lost him every single time. After learning your owner's pattern for months, he's finally able to caught him off guard.

But the bastard ran back home and hide just before Miguel catch him. Your owner ran back home and locked the doors, telling you to shut the fuck up if anyone come over to look for him and to not tell his whereabouts.

Miguel is one step ahead this time and he's able to track your owner's house. He then banged on the door which made you jumped in surprise. "Open the damn door, you bastard! I know you're inside." He shouted as he kept banging on the door with his men following and standing by behind him, guns in their hands.

Innocently, you walk over the door and open the door slightly ajar and peeked outside just to met his eyes. Miguel was shocked when his eyes met with your big vulnerable eyes and fluffy bunny ears, looking almost as if you're pleading with a small pout on your face. "Yes?" You said shyly with shaky voice. Miguel looks back at his men in confusion then look back at you. "Hello, little one. Is there anyone inside?" He asked, trying to be less intimidating and as friendly as possible in order not to scare you. You hesitated to answer but you shook your head anyway, since it's seems like the only safe answer to give. He examines your beautiful and small figure from head to toe just to find bruises everywhere then to your dirty clothes that you're wearing. You look up at him with tired eyes and flat expression, making you look like a broken doll.

Miguel is not buying your obvious lie. "Are you sure? You look... Tired. Are you okay?" He asked again. You just nod and rush to close the door but Miguel stopped you from doing so. He grabbed on the door and push it back open, making you stumbling back from the force. "Look, I don't want to hurt you. But I need to take a look inside, okay?" He gave signals to his men to search the house for your owner.

He didn't expect you to panic and starts shouting at him "No! Please! Master will get mad." You said as your eyes starts to well in tears, "He'll hit me and lock me up in the basement again..." You said while sobbing and pulling on his sleeve. Miguel can feel his heart breaking into pieces from how adorably you cried in front of him. As he wanted to hug you and calm you down, his men came back and drags your owner with them. He got a black eye on his right eye due to a hard blow given by Miguel's men right on his face when he tried to run away. They throw him on the floor to force him to get on his knees in front of Miguel.

When your eyes met his you ran towards your master in worry. "Master! Are you okay?" You got on your knees to check on him, even if he's a very cruel and irresponsible master you can't help but feel worried of him getting hurt. But instead of getting any answer back from him, he gave you a very hard and strong punch on the face. You stumbled back in shock and whimpers in pain as you cover your face with your palms from the fear and pain. "You useless bitch! I told you not to let them in!" As he's about to hit you again, Miguel stepped forward to protect you and kick that bastard's stomach with full force in anger. He still couldn't believe that a little angle like you would care so much about a devil like him.

He groans in pain from Miguel's kick and Miguel turned to look at you as you bleed from your nose and cry on the floor. Your owner look up at Miguel then at you "Oh I see what this is all about now. You like her don't you? Fine then, take her away as a compensation. She is a very fine and expensive hybrid." He said with a low chuckle as he gave you a dirty look. "Use her as a cock sleeve or just do anything you like at her, let all of your anger out at her as if she's a punching bag. You won't ever hear a peep out of her mouth, she's well trained for that." Miguel can feel himself boiling in anger but his eyes won't leave your figure, no matter how hard he tried. The idea of a pretty thing like you used and abused by someone like him are just too much for him to even imagine.

Yes, he is indeed a cruel mafia leader. He killed and will kill anyone who got in his way without any remorse or hesitation and punish those who got on his nerves. But seeing how a pure little thing like you getting such a horrible treatment without you deserving any of it, made him feel sick to the pit of his stomach. He got too deep into his thought as he pull a gun out from his pocket without realizing and thinking it through then shot your owner right at his face as you watch the scene in front of you in horror.

The bastard died instantly, his body made a loud thud noise when it hit the floor and blood starts to stain the carpet underneath. Your eyes widened as tears streams down your cheek. Miguel then turned and walks towards you slowly but you stood up and ran away as fast as you can towards your master's bedroom and lock yourself while crying. His men look at Miguel, waiting for his next order. "I'll talk to her." He said with a loud sigh.

He starts knocking at the door, "Little one, please open the door. I won't hurt you I promise." You starts to panic "No go away! Leave me alone! You just killed my master!" You shouted back. Deep down you know that you should be glad that Miguel had killed your master but that makes you feel powerless, knowing that Miguel is capable of hurting anyone let alone killing them.

"I have to okay? He got on my nerves and worse, he hurt you." He spoke again from the other side of the door. "You know nothing about me!" Tears starts to fall even faster from your eyes as the image of your master's dead body kept playing in your head. "Just open this door so I don't need to force it open myself." He said, starting to get frustrated by your behavior.

You ignores him and sat down in the corner of the room, hoping that he'll just go away and leave you alone. He kept knocking at the door but you refused to open it for him. "Fine you won't open this door? I'll have to force it open then." He said before he starts banging harder and harder on the door, cracking it with each of his forcefull movements against the door.

You know very well from how massive he looks that he'll break down the door easily if he wants to. You starts glancing around the room to look for something to protect yourself just incase if Miguel is trying to hurt you. You've been in this room a thousand time when your master forced you to sleep with him but you're never allowed to open his closet or drawers even when you're told to clean his room for him.

Opening the nearest drawer, you starts rummaging to find something sharp to protect yourself. To your surprise you can feel your hand brushing against a hard and cold metal. You never knew your master hid a small gun in his bedroom this whole time but now you're glad he did. Just as you get your hand on the gun the door bursts open and you yelped in surprise. You then points the gun at Miguel "Don't come any closer! Or I'll— I'll shoot you." You said hesitantly.

Miguel look at the gun in your hand with a expressionless face then walks towards you. "I— I said go away!" A step closer from Miguel means a step back from you. But he kept walking closer and ignoring the fact that you have a gun in your hands. Your back hit the wall, making it impossible for you to take another step back from him. He grabbed your hands and points the gun directly at his chest to challenge you. "Go on. Shoot me." He said menacingly. A shiver went down your spine as your hands clenches around the gun and hesitation floods your mind. You never hurt anyone before, how on earth are you going to shoot him?

Your eyes look up at him still with tears on display and your bunny ears tensed then pinned flat back behind you head in fear. Hands trembling badly as you pressed the gun deeper into his chest, not knowing what to do. "That's what I thought." He said before quickly ripped the gun from your hand easily then threw it away to the other side of the room.

You tried to run but he grabbed you wrist and threw you on the floor. "Stop making this harder on yourself." He said before crouching down to meet your eyes. "Please don't hurt me..." You begged while sobbing, hoping that he'll pity you. He just look at your face while caressing your cheek with his massive thumb. Making your face seems so much smaller compared to his hand. "To have such a pretty thing in front of me for free. How lucky of me." He continues to caress your face and admiring your beauty with the feeling of wanting to own you all to himself. Having you safe by his side in his mansion and to have you sleep by his side at night.

But his fantasy must be interrupted by his duty as a mafia leader. "Boss, it's Lyla." One of his men interrupted. "Tell her I'll be there in 10 minutes." He said with so much authority in his voice. "What about her?" His other man looked over at your vulnerable state. Your eyes are focused on Miguel, anticipating his next move. He cussed to himself and took out a syringe from his pocket. "W— what's that for?" You asked nervously. "This? Oh I bring these all the time incase if I need to take a pretty thing like you home." Miguel then cupped you face with one of his free hand and move your face to the side so he could inject your neck easier.

Your hand grabbed his hand, the one that's cupping your cheek. "I don't want this. Please just let me go." He ignores your plea and kissed your cheek softly. "Don't worry little thing, this will only hurt a little okay? Just obey and you'll be just fine." You shook your head but he injected you right away with the syringe. "Good girl." Your body starts to feel numb right away as tears continue to stream down your face. You rest your head against his chest for support. "Shhh that's it, just fall asleep for me like a good girl you are." He pulls you into a hug and starts caressing your hair this time. Your vision starts to blur as darkness starts to invade. Soon you're limp against his chest, breathing softly and peacefully.

He smiled and kissed your forehead before carrying you in his arms in a bridal style. "Let's get going, we don't want the cops to be here anytime soon." He said as he rushed towards his car with you in his arms and his men following behind him. He looked down at your unconscious form in his arms, "Sleep tight, little one."

[saemisic]

I'D DO ANYTHING TO MAKE YOU WANT ME ━ enhypen hyung line relationships as "number one girl" lyrics

toxic boyfriend! enha・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ genre. angst, toxicity, hurt wc ・‎ 0.8k

Sae's thoughts: hai guys! i like this one a bit better than my first fic its a little sadder tho :( i also got a little carried away with sunghoons teehee. As always, feedback, relogs, likes and comments are appericated and i hope you enjoy !

Heeseung -  “Say what I'm dying to hear 'cause I'm dying to hear you”

Neither of you could pinpoint exactly where the relationship went sour. It just seemed as time went by slowly the hushed whispers, the fluttering kisses, and the sweet honey like compliments slowly died out. You loved it when heeseung complimented you, he always managed to make you feel so heard and so loved, unlike any of your previous relationship. So when did it all go wrong? how did your once loving sweet man turn into a shell of himself. One whose eyes now bore into you with such intensity. One who's honey voice now sounded bored and monotone when talking to you. His once intoxicating voice now just seemed faded a distant memory of the past. Sometimes you could remember the jittery butterflies you'd feel whenever his sweet voice talked to you. Arguments, screaming and all was all you could recall in the months leading up. All you wanted was to be loved and heard again, to hear his voice call you "princess" or "doll", anything really, anything but what you had now.

rest of the members are under the cut!

Jay - "Tell me I'm a little angel, sweetheart of your city"

Jay was truly a gentleman by heart, he always made sure you ate, sleep well enough, bought you expensive jewelry. You couldn't have asked for a better man, he even made your strict parents smile a little. He made a romantic relationship seem so easy and sweet, because even in times of argument and turmoil he always put you first. This all just made the introduction of Hana ten times worse, its wasn't her fault really. She was sweet, kind and perfect for Jay , you even saw the sparks fly. In recent time, things had not been going well, your relationship with Jay had slowly been picked at with arguments now becoming daily. The sweet intimate love you once had was now gone, a shadow of its self. What hurt even more was the look of love in Jay's eyes when he looked at Hana. It was the same look he once gave you. You already knew that you were no longer the woman who ruled his heart, you weren't his sweetheart anymore - that was hana's position now.

Jake - "I'd do anything to make you want me"

Jake didn't do relationships, he did one night stands and freedom. The freedom of not being held down by someone or responsibilities was his way of living. You couldn't blame him though, when during your time of knowing him you caught feelings. He was just such a sweetheart, he took you on dates, held your hands, whispered sweet nothings in your ears after a long tiring day. It all seemed so good and like he was your actual boyfriend. That's why seeing him with another woman shattered your fragile heart. He had the same look he did with you, that heart eyes. You knew from the beginning that there was never supposed to catch feelings. You had someone how managed to fall down a rabbit hole of falling for jake sim. Anything to get those sweet memories, the cuddling sessions the anything back again. You just wanted him to choose you.

Sunghoon - " I'd give it all up if you told me that I'd be the number one girl in your eyes"

You knew Sunghoon before he even became a trainee, you were his ice skating partner. You knew the shy boy ever since you two were kids and grew up together on the rink. You saw his goods and bad's and you had a ton of respect for him. That's why, during one evening practice when he asked you out you were basically jumping with joy. You couldn't imagine a childhood friends to lovers story buts that exactly what was happening. Practice was so much fun, so much better with someone who loved you there. especially because your parents forced to you to join but weren't even supportive. When he told you that he became a trainee for Be-lift Labs you were so excited for him, you knew that this is what he's wanted for a long time. what you didn't know was how hang-ups and dates became shorter and less often. he would even sometimes leaving you alone and embarrassed in a cafe desperately trying to call him. How your time and memories started to drift apart with him being so focused on debuting and you continuing your career. You had tried to reach out, plan dates and all but nothing. It was all in vain as you saw him on the TV, just announced as a member of the new and upcoming boy group ENHYPEN. What he didn't know was that you were okay with giving up your ice skates, just for a last hug.

[pedge-page]

Live a Little, Give a Little ... More [Part 2]

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Live a Little Give a Little part 1

Summary: you've got one last stunt in you before you retire to have your baby--will your mystery Baby Daddy make a final appearance?

Warnings: Breeding kink, pregnancy, exhibition, groping, public sex, public teasing, dub con, manhandling, rape-esc situation that may be triggering, unprotected sex, creampie.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You keep waving to your camera even after it clicks off and stops recording. Leaning back in your streaming chair, you close your eyes. 

Well, you did exactly what you set out to do: gained a shit ton of views and earned a mega bonus from your subscribers, rating shooting up thanks to that little stunt you pulled a few months ago.

You peer down, drumming your fingers along the hefty bump that had grown in your belly since then. “Hope you’re a bit more responsible than me, kiddo,” you mumble, smiling softly as you stroke over with gentle fingers.

Getting pregnant was not exactly how you imagined achieving that feat.

In all honesty, the plan was never to fuck a stranger on a crowded train. You were on the pill, but STD and STIs were a thing, so the furthest you had genuinely planned with a few hand jobs and being groped by perverts. 

But the second you felt that man on you, felt his cock pulse in your legs, something else over took you. Your whole bodies shivers with excitement every time recalling that day. Trying to etch every single detail into your memory. His callused hands, the firm, broad chest and shoulders that easily could overpower you, his warm thick fingers dancing along your skin, the trace of his breath along the shell of your ear, each beautiful little grunt and groan echoing in your ear like a broken record. 

His massive fucking hung horse cock.

You’ve been fucked by big-dicked guys before. But to know how to use it so fucking well that you don’t need to be battered to a pulp just to feel it, is something that no man can compare to your handsome baby Daddy.

Slickness pools in your panties. At some point, your belly is going to be big enough that you won’t be able to touch yourself. But for now, as your hand dips into your underwear and gathers your arousal, you think about him. 

If he was here now, would he make you cum on his fingers before you could have his cock buried to the hilt in you? Tell you that you’re a naughty girl, so fertile and sweet for the taking? A cum hungry dumb slut who doesn’t know how to function without his seed filling her up at every conceivable moment. Make you watch yourself in the mirror cum like a whore from his touch as he promises to breed and brand you over and over again for the world to see. You bite your lips, feeling him hot on your skin, balls twitching with each pulse of his seed dumping safely into your waiting womb to take him.

The thoughts of the faceless, nameless man who impregnated you on a crowded train during rush hour brings you to orgasm much quicker than any toy or method you’ve tested. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, a slight grin tugging on your lips as you rub your pussy through her little quakes, desperate to feel complete again.

You come down from your high, sticky fingers tracing along your belly as you drift into your current situation, ironically brought on by your insatiable horny lust.

No, you didn’t intend to have sex with a stranger that day. And when you weighed the odds in the nano-second before he impaled you… I mean, even if you got an infection, so what, just this once? What OnlyFans streamer didn’t have a disease or two? (No, please don’t take that advice)

You got tested immediately afterwards, and thankfully everything else came back negative from your fun encounter.

It only took a few more weeks after that of peculiar symptoms to get tested for something else that, to you genuine surprise, was positive. 

The man must have super sperm to have blown past your supposedly unstoppable birth control, which hadn’t even failed you when you did that 5 creampie amateur gang bang porno last summer.  Maybe you were only an hour late in taking your dosage on time that one day, too drunk and more concerned about fingering him cum back into you, but still…

You went into shock for a solid week, not sure what to do. Sometimes even now you feel a little jolt in your tummy, and see your body changing, and it just keeps dawning on you that you’re actually about to have a whole ass child.

And you don’t know the father.

It’s both thrilling and horrifying shook up in a bottle of hormones and currently sitting on the edge of a cliff. You should scold yourself for how stupid you were, if only you actually regretted it.  Even if you’re about to be a single mother who cant explain a thing to your soon to be child about their daddy, you knew you were gonna love you baby. No doubts.

Besides, when you were more financially stable, you DID plan to have kids at some point. So what if it’s a little sooner than expected? Life is full of unexpected surprises! 

You decided after the baby is born, no more streaming. You were gonna get a more stable, (more cloth required) job and raise your precious kiddo on your own.

But a few teasing streams until then, just to milk those breeding, misogynistic, baby bump hungry men out there willing to throw money at you if you rubbed milk over your belly, would be worth those extra bucks before calling it quits altogether.

Still, it would be nice feel him just one more time…

-

Joel’s been watching your stream obsessively since that day you brazenly showed your pregnant belly to the world. He’s got notifications going off on his phone every time you upload something. 

Even with his cock in his hand, most of the time you just talk to your followers, answer their questions about your pregnancy so far, and about that day.

He sees the way your eyes glint, the corner of your lips curving into an unashamed smile as you retell details about him.

Sure, all the lonely fucks in the chat spam your inbox “that’s so hot”, “god I wish that were me,” “can I use your holes and breed you next? My bus departs in 30 mins ;)”

Honestly, who’s to say you aren’t pulling a total bluff? You’re a porn streamer; it’s your job to feed into men like his fantasies. Maybe you had fucked a dozen guys on the train that day, got pregnant from one of them, and only uploaded Joel’s session because it was the hottest? Maybe you were already pregnant, and you’re just spinning a scandalous story for your followers to hold on to? And who’s to say you don’t already have a cuck boyfriend or husband, who could have been filming or watching you two on the train that day from a different angle?

The thought of you belonging to another man, of the baby you “claim” to his being another’s makes his hand grip his cock tightly, teeth grinding down on one another while staring at your beautiful eyes and smile through the computer screen.

He drops a pool of spit on to his tip before sheathing it over with his hand, lubing his cock. You would usually end the stream with some tease:

“God, my breasts are just getting so sore,” you groan dramatically. You unbutton your blouse and reveal your naked cleavage. “Don’t even have any more bras because they’re getting so damn heavy!” You cup them and moan into the camera, relieving the ache while pinching your nipples. 

Joel licks his lips. He had gotten to know you (or the version of you on your stream) a lot more intimately thanks to discovering your blog. He spent hours studying every detail that he missed. Its one thing to have dumped his load into your exquisite pussy, but to be able to see your face, hear your unashamed moans, ogle your gorgeous breasts and body that he had been denied that day makes him yearn to have you one more time.

Your belly had grown just as quickly, drooping over your pelvis just a bit more than before. You’re not at full mast yet. He watches how you maneuver, maybe a little slower or more bulky than before. It fills him with pride, seeing how much you’re having to struggle with his child growing in you. At the very least, you can still reach to get a bulbous pink dildo in your cunt and flash the camera as you masturbate, crying out as you beg Daddy to breed you again.

Joel cups his balls with one hand while the other furiously works over his shaft. His stomach tenses, building towards his release with eyes transfixed on the way that little cunt still has enough room to fit that toy. He would know, you took him with very little prep. 

“That’s it baby, come on, Come for Daddy,” he groans.  Doesn’t care that he’s jerking off in a dark room by himself to a brightly lit screen of his baby momma that doesn’t even know him. Yet. 

You moan directly into the camera, mouth agape as you thrust the dildo in and out, hitting that sweet spot that has your eyes rolling. You spread your legs over the chair, and the skin strewn across your belly tightens as a gush of liquid squirts out of your pussy.

“Fuck Daddy, making my pussy squirt so fuckin good! M so full my cunt can’t hold all my naughty juices, too full with your cock and your cum and your baby!!”

Haggard groans rumble in his throat as his cock erupts into jets of white ribbons, shooting along the computer screen and covering your face as you smile and lick the dildo clean. He milks his sack of the last little spurts of cum before sighing and leaning back against the chair, dreaming about painting your womb white again with his next load. 

When you come down from your high, and the last of the generous tips come flowing in, you usually rub along your swollen tummy. Sometimes it’s subconscious, like you’re comforting your child, other times it’s for the show, twirling around and pushing it out to show everyone how big you’ve gotten. Your voice centers him back to reality.

“And before I forget, I have one final announcement: After our little baby is born, I will be retiring.” You smile softly, but there’s a sense of gratitude mixed with sadness. “I know! It’s been such a great journey, and I’ve never felt soooo good about something as amazing as this, and to share it all with you is more than I could have ever hoped. So as a final send off, I’m doing one last exhibition piece.”

Joel leans, ignoring the stain of his cum drying along his shirt and smudged into his laptop.

 “If you’re out there, Daddio, I want to meet you. Catch me in the same area, around the same time—and no I’m not going to tell you all exactly where on here!  If you’re there, you’ll know—and if not, I will be streaming the whole thing live this time so don’t miss out! Even if I can’t find my blessing baby daddy, I will certainly still be putting on a show for however many lucky bastards get to grope a pregnant, single slut like me!”

-

You stand along the train platform, anxiously glancing over your shoulder at the random passersby just trying to catch a commute. Some men have definitely eyed you in less than innocent ways already. It’s a cest pool of perverts today. 

You contemplate the biggest hiccup in your plan: You know the only chance you have to recognize him is from feeling his huge dick splitting you open again. Cinderella slipper style, if you will. You didn’t have a name, an address, any identifiable features—you wouldn’t even be able to recognize his face if it were right in front of you given that you never really saw more than a blurred partial reflection of it in the first place. That monster cock is the only thing that you’re betting your life on right now to find him.

But for the safety of your baby—you had 0 plans to fuck anybody today. And I mean it this time.

The wind from the train tunnels keeps riling up your frilly dress, the fabric now fitting a little more snug than it did before thanks to your baby on the way. There’s a sense of excitement mixed with disappointment steaming in your flip flops. No, you had no hope of actually finding him again. 

 But who’s to say you can’t still have a little fun, touch some dicks, get your tits squeezed and call it a successful career?

Rush hour got a bit crazy, and boy were the men just as in a hurry. You bit your lip and smiled at a man who brushed by you, his hand happily squeezing your little ass cheek through your dress. He seemed young, thin, definitely not your man, but his long fingers did feel nice, caressing your hips as he grinned to you as well. Swaying your chest in front of him, he peers over your cleavage. The two of you waited along the platform, the crowd shifting awkwardly around you waiting for the train. You twiddled your hair, angling your phone up so it could capture his hand gently caressing your lower belly. 

His eyes widen in surprise: your bump wasn’t entirely obvious under the skirt of the dress, still small enough to be concealed under baggy clothing but very obvious the moment you feel it or pull the fabric tight. You giggle as he eagerly stroked over your belly, and you can barely see the twinkle of a fantasy forming behind those eyes.

The train followed forward a little too soon, and the man got on without another glance at you. Probably his wedding ring might have had something to do with it, but no matter. You remained where you were.

When the cart rushed past again, the wind blowing your dress, you caught the eye of a group of two behind you. You winked at them, lifting your skirt scandalously to show off your bare ass and wiggle at them, before enticing them to follow you behind the stairwell. 

You propped your phone up quickly, conveniently cutting off from the neck up to disguise their faces before they too rounded the corner. One was a bit shorter, dark haired, maybe around 40s with a full beard. His hands were all wrong, not your guy, but you didn’t deter him as he stroked along your cheek and down your cleavage, pulling the fabric of the dress tight to see your swollen tits. 

The other man, tall and muscular under that tight shirt, blond and younger, pressed firmly along your back, the outline of his cock making you rub your ass along his crotch. You quickly reached behind you and stroked his stiff bulge while they pinched your nipple through your dress, held the weight of your pregnant belly and brushed their knuckles along your inner thigh. 

Their faces didn’t matter. Maybe they were your fans, maybe they were just some lucky pervs at the right place at the right time. Either of them could be your mystery man, while neither could be too. You try to brush off your disappointment with a flirty laugh, stroking both of them through their trousers as they breathed in your perfume and continued to touch your body. No, their cocks were all wrong. It didn’t feel this rigid or this plump, his tip was more bulbous than this, and the curvature is in the opposite direction.

You glanced at your camera, making sure you’re getting good angles of your pronounced body sandwiched between these two creeps. They didn’t say much, thankfully, and you didn’t care to talk. Your feed was blowing up, with them none the wiser at behind recorded.  It’s not until you peep again at the screen that you see a third man entering the frame behind you. 

The other guys shift uncomfortably at his intrusion, but you look up at lucky perv number three. You don’t bat an eye when he boldly put his hand between your thighs and slid up along your skin, thick digits grazing your wet folds. You hum contently. Oh, he’s here for the cake. You try not to go hazy, eying the cheeky bastard while being stimulated all over.

 His height was between the other two but that didn’t make him any less imposing. Broad around the shoulders with a bit of a soft tummy, but his denim shirt hugged those biceps so well. And he’s older too, much older due to the wrinkles under his brown eyes and the grays starting to take over in his curled hair and patchy beard—

Your brows furrow for a second, not enough time to process your thoughts before he’s shoving the other two men aside despite their protests and walking you back against the tiled wall, your bum resting on the metal bar there. His torso parts your legs perfectly, and you gasp, hands gripping his shoulders to keep your balance. He only grins, something very knowing behind that look, a secret you feel left out from, and you’re about to call it all off until he rolls that massive THANG between his legs against your uncovered core.

You moan out in surprise, your head falls forward on his chest. He growls something out to the other guys, who end up scurrying away with their palms pressed on their crotches like scared dogs. 

“L-Look, mister,” you say, and fuck you should be trying to fight this harder. Especially with the jangle of his belt coming undone between you. You don’t want some stranger fucking you—again—that defeats the whole purpose of the tease! You could still shout for help, there’s plenty of other people just around the corner if he tries anything funny. And your baby, your health, your safety— “I don’t —I’m not in the mood for anything—penetrative. But I could satisfy you in other ways,” you huff, dragging your lower lip between your teeth.

He smirks again. His breath is warm, so close to your face you could almost kiss him. He feels so strong yet so soft, holding you securely against him, his hand cradling your belly while his tented cock pressed along your clit. Your hearts racing, beating wildly that you don’t doubt he can’t feel it against his own. Maybe he’s considering it, something willing yet still satisfying. You feel drunk off him despite only sampling the scent of him, not the taste quite yet.

He holds your gaze with his curved nose honing yours. Its intimate.

Familiar.

You should protest at least a little when he flips you around and bends you over. He’s got one hand protectively over your belly, making sure you don’t fall into the wall. You glance up, and the sight of your body positioned perfectly centered at your camera. Fuck—he knew where the camera was? Was he a fan watching your stream before he came over? Your shocked expression fills the screen as his torso and hips press against your ass, yellow dress flipped over your hips for his private view.

Your mind is reeling, unaware of the thick slap of his length against your folds—that jolts your attention. You know that cock…

He thrusts in all at once.  No voice escapes your parted lips to convey the cross eyed, fantastic, unbelievable, one in a million stretch that you had been missing for months, now filling you up to the brim and suffocating every available micro meter inside of you, and making you whole again. The same stretch, the one that’s making you cum on his cock right now, flooding your senes as arousal electrifies every nerve in your body.

The man behind you only chuckles, still getting the perfect view of your gaping mouth and furled brows reflected on the phone scream. he hisses lowly between his teeth as you continue to clench around his cock with your sweet wet little cunt. It’s like scanning a membership, and your body finally recognizes the owner of the shop. You pant harshly into the bar, walls convulsing over his thick length buried deep to your occupied womb.

The man that had placated your mind, your pussy and womb for the last 6 months, the man who left the best gift you’d ever received, the man right here in the flesh, that you had almost considered a dream were it not for the growing swell of his child in your womb occupying your delirium…

He leans over you, just enough so that only his lips are visible at the top of the screen, his voice ghosting along your ear: “Hi babygirl. Missed you. Looks like you have a little surprise for Daddy.” You feel his bear palms caress your swollen tummy.

Your lips curl into a delirious smile, lashes fluttering in blissful patterns of love as your entire being welcomes this man into the home he’s already carved out of you.

Even your baby nestled small in your womb wiggles excitedly at the recognition of her Daddy.

Neither of you look away from another as he begins thrusting into you, rocking your body back and forth along his member like the toy you’re so good at being.

He was amazing—no, better than before if it’s possible. Impossibly hard, long, thick and throbbing, all shoved up your pussy with desperate ruts, impaling your soaking pussy over and over again. You had to remind yourself, still lost like a love sick puppy in his eyes, that you were still in public, being fucked raw, pregnant, behind the stairwell of a crowded train station during rush hour. Nosy chatter echoed through the tunnel as the two of you humped against one another, partially clothed minus your genitals connected in a haze of passionate fucking. The phone in front of you is only forgotten, and you can only imagine the comments and tips blowing up at the fact that you’d actually found him.

Despite the openness, the vulnerability of your position, it feels far more intimate, just the two of you fucking to your hearts content. You’ll wonder later about the wondering eyes from trains beginning to enter the station and seeing the two of you in the blurred windows , but right now, you’d be ready to take his second bastard child right this second. 

Your handsome hero reaches past you and turns the recording off, flipping the phone down. If he’s going to have you again, really have you, it would be his own little private show. No camera. No show. He abruptly pulls out before spinning you around and nestling himself between your thighs again, his cock aligning to your entrance before sliding right back in. Right where he belongs.

“Oooooh shiiiit. Shit Momma, you’re so good at taking it,” he rasps into your neck. He presses a wet kiss along your throat, each thrust pushing you back but he holds you close and sucks you right into his grasp again. Your open lips hover over one another as he sets his pace again, his tip now kissing your cervix with each kiss of your pregnant belly to his naval.

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” He growls with an edge of desperation. “Tell me it’s mine.” Beads of sweat begin to form along the creases of his forehead, but he didn’t once consider slowing his pace. With the pay your ass jiggles at each slap of skin.

“It’s yours,” you cry. There’s no doubt. your heart screams with joy just as the knot in your stomach snaps. he grips your mouth with his strong hand as your head rolls in ecstasy, wailing out into his flesh with unfiltered moans.

Harsh breaths are forced out of his nose, his lips switching between a snarl and a grin as he nears his end. 

“Inside,” you hum into his ear.

He wasn’t planning on putting it anywhere else. With one final heave, he lifts you off the rail briefly, your weight balncing under his arms and your tiptoes on the ground as he bursts inside of you, painting your walls with his hot cream.

You both breathe in the polluted air. Distant echoes of the rafters rattling in the darkened caves ahead while footsteps rustle down the metal stairs behind the two of you. The breeze of the caverned tunnels cools the sweat along both your bodies. He hasn’t let go, still glued to you, holding you close as if you’d slip away.

You sit upright in his lap, trying to catch your breath. You survey one another, pupils blown wide yet calming. The two of you just giggle as your pants slowly sync together. His rough yet gentle fingertips stroke your cheek before brushing away the strands of messy hair that had covered your beautiful face, and for the first time, he can really get a full look at you in person.

“I’m Joel,” he says sweetly. He brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a gentle and long kiss, never once breaking eye contact with you.

You shake your head and laugh, offering your name to him as well.

Although, at this point, with his cock still impaled deep inside, his baby growing in your womb— its safe to say the two of you are well past such a redundant formality.

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