#please i dont think i could stomach reading it

[luna-the-shark4254]

where to find someone willing to summarize 4231 for me without or barely mentioning the S/A and abuse, no glue no borax

[bbyquokka]

blow me instead?

– “Why should I blow out the candles, when you can just blow me instead?” prompt

pairing | lee felix x gender-neutral reader

genre | smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | established relationship ; dom felix ; oral sex (blowjob) ; finger sucking ; cum swallowing ; deep throating

words | 2.6k ~ ( 2,693 ) + 2 fake texts !

notes | a lil smth for felix's bday. jisung's will be posted at a later date when i've finished it :( don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

you forgot. you’ve forgotten the most important day of the year and you are currently kicking yourself for it. it’s felix’s birthday, the one day of the year that you look forward to every single year – but for some unknown reason, this year you forgot.

maybe it’s because you’ve both been really busy that you haven’t given it a second thought. you’re always well prepared for things like this, but this year it slipped your mind.

you knew you forgotten something but you couldn't tell what. you had that nagging feeling in the back of your mind but you pushed it to the side. “i’ll figure it out later” you always told yourself only to forget – once again.

it wasn't until the day before, did you looked at your calendar and see ‘15th sept’ circled and decorated in hearts, labelled ‘felix’s bday!!’ did you panic. that nagging feeling quickly turned into a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. worry and panic washing over you and coating your skin in a cold sweat.

it was way into the night to go to the store to pick something up. everything was closed. you thought about making him something but realised that you don't have the materials to do so. so a quick search on the web was your last resort. you hoped you could find something that would do next day delivery but alas, after several hours of searching and drawing up blanks, did you accept your fate.

you woke up the day of his birthday, feeling guilty and it's eating you alive. you don't think you'd be able to face to him without bursting into tears.

“i should at least wish him a happy birthday.” you mumble. you take your phone from the night stand and open up felix's contact. your thumb hovers over the green circle. 

you hesitate. lips pursed together. you overthink. you can hear his sullen tone of voice. you can see his facial expressions twisted into sadness. your heart aches and feels tight, like someone is gripping onto it.

“fuck. i can't.” you throw your phone onto the bed beside you, watching it bounce from impact before rubbing your face with your hands and groaning. “maybe a shower will help me. i’ll call him then!” 

you didn't call him. in fact, you spent the whole day avoiding him. you did pop to the store and buy a small box of cupcakes and some candles. you had this idea of surprising him by turning up at his place with a fancy birthday cake, thinking it's better than nothing,  but when the store only had cupcakes to offer, that idea was quick to fizzle out.

the cakes are now sitting on the counter, untouched and unopened. you're in your lounge wear on the sofa, TV on but you're not tuned into whatever show it's playing. instead, you're on your social media, looking at what felix has been up to the whole day.

pictures of felix with chan, jisung and hyunjin. birthday wishes from friends and family flood his profiles. you're glad he's had a good day but that guilt just won't go away. 

you've shamelessly avoided him the whole day because you couldn't face him. it's cowardly of you and you know it, but in a way, you just shut off.

you rush to your feet. your sock covered soles slapping against the floor as you rush to the door. you open it and come face to face with a not so pleased looking felix.

'“i see you're still alive.” you swallow. he sounds irritated. he's angry at you and you don't blame him.

“felix, i–”

“are you going to let me in or are we just going to stand out in the hallway?” he cuts you off. you look down at your feet and shuffle to the side, opening the door wider for him.

he walks in, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat as you close the door behind him. he notices the unopened cupcakes and pack of birthday candles by the side of them.

“so?” he starts as he looks at you. your chin is tucked into your chest, fingers fiddling with one another. you feel like a child about to be told off by a parent.

“i'm so sorry, felix.” you start, keeping your eyes glued to your feet. you don't want to make eye contact with him because the guilt of forgetting is eating you alive. it's making you feel incredibly nauseous.

“for?” his arms crossed against his chest as he looks down at you, brow raised. his authoritative and dominant aura seeps out from his pores and clouds you, suffocating you in the process.

“... i–uh…” you start, words lodged in your throat. felix lets out a small, irritated sigh. “I forgot about your birthday.” 

your voice is small and cracks. you furiously blink back the tears that are threatening to spill from your lower lash line.

“you forgot?” you nod slowly. “is that why you've been avoiding me?” you nod again. “why?”

“because i thought you'd be angry at me… like right now.” felix runs his fingers through his hair slowly.

“i’m not angry that you forgot. it happens. i’m angry because you avoided me on my birthday.”

“i know.. i’m sorry.” you look up at him and chew your bottom lip. the cupcakes catch the corner of your eye. you rush to then, opening them and the candles before sticking one in the middle of the cake.

felix follows you and watches you with eager eyes. his gaze suddenly feels hot. he licks his lips as he admires your body, eyes flickering up and down.

he's undressing you with his eyes. 

you turn around, holding the cupcake in your hand with the candle flame flickering. you present it in front of felix and smile.

“i got you cupcakes though. i know it's not much but i couldn't find anything on such short notice…” felix simply hums and looks at the cake, then you. “are you not going to blow it out?” you question after some seconds pass.

felix leans in close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear as his voice drops and becomes low and deep. his warm breath fans against your ear as he speaks.

“why should i blow out the candles when you can just blow me instead?” 

goosebumps ripple along your skin. your heart suddenly starts racing. his breath feels ticklish against your ear, body temperature suddenly rising

“f-felix!” you squeak as he pulls back, finding amusement at your shocked facial expression. 

“i assume you didn't get me a gift so i can consider a blowjob as one. and if you do a good job, maybe i’ll let you off the hook for avoiding me on my special day.” 

“i–” you swallow a little, the heat from the candle is radiating onto your chin, adding to the increase of your own body temperature.

felix keeps his brow raised before trailing his hand down his torso to his groin where he squeezes and groans softly.

you can't take your eyes off him. you watch his hand squeeze and palm himself through his jeans. his veins bulging from his hands and arms. 

he kicks his head back a little, lips parting and giving you a view of his outstretched neck. his adams apple bobbing with his swallows. soft moan and grunts leaving his parted lips.

“don't just stand there.” his deep voice brings you back down to reality. “blow me.”

you place the cake down on the counter (after you blow out the candle) before kneeling in front of felix. he looks down at you. his dominate aura making you feel small and vulnerable but excited.

you can feel the pit of your stomach tingle and bubble with excitement. warmth coating your groin. the tips of your fingers and toes feel electric from the surging feeling of excitement that's mixed in with hormones.

you reach up and slide your hands up and under his t-shirt. his warm skin hugs the tips of your fingers. the sturdiness of his abs flexing and tensing with his stomach moving in time with his breathing.

you feel his smooth skin, tracing his muscles with your fingers. the only thing that isn't smooth, however, is the small, yet noticeable happy trail that runs from his belly button and disappears below his jean waistband.

“mhm..” felix hums softly, your touch giving him goosebumps. you move your hands lower until they come into contact with the rough fabric of his denim jeans.

you look up at him, asking for permission with your eyes to which he gives with a nod of his head.

you unbutton and unzip his jeans slowly, revealing that he is wearing black designer boxer shorts. you notice how his bulge is slowly, but surely, getting bigger with each passing second as he anticipates and waits.

you pull his jeans down to his knees. you press the palm of your hand against his crotch, massaging him slowly. he huffs. his cock twitching against the palm of your hand.

you give him a few gentle squeezes. your touch is too gentle for his liking so he looks down again you with glossy eyes.

“harder.”

you oblige by wrapping your fingers around his clothed length and squeezing, hard. his hips buck slightly and a soft, deep moan falls from his lips.

you feel his warm hand pressing against your cheek as his fingers graze along your jawline before bumping against your bottom lip.

he slowly strokes your lip, chewing on his own. 

“look at me.” you look up at him, making eye contact. two of his fingers nudge between your lips, gently pushing past them as you part them.

“good.” he whispers as his fingers caress your tongue. your brows furrow together, lips wrapping around the two digits as you suck. your saliva coats felix's fingers thoroughly whilst he pushes them further into your mouth until they're fully encapsulated in the warmth of your mouth.

the hand that around his clothed length has slowed down and is now loosely gripping him. your groin feels hot and excited, tingles in your stomach as felix explores the inside of your mouth with his two fingers before pulling them out slowly.

he gives a satisfying ‘hm’ before instructing you to continue with the nod of his head.

you whimper a little and reach up with both hands, grabbing the waistband of his boxer shorts. your fingertips brush against his hot skin, causing felix to shiver and huff in excitement.

you slowly pull down his underwear, revealing his happy train and v-lines slowly before his erect penis is revealed, bouncing and twitching at the sudden cold air hitting his hot shaft.

felix lets out a small breath of relief. the feeling of being restrained is no longer an issue. his hips buck slightly as you wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, stroking it slowly.

you watch the man above you slowly crumble. his penis twitching, pre-cum leaking from his slit. his shaft is hot against the palm of your hand, tip red and a few veins protruding along the sides.

your hand glides up and down his penis, rotating at the top. you use the pad of your thumb to gently rub his tip, smearing the pre-cum and making his tip glisten.

the sensitivity gets to felix. his hips rocking a little in your hand against his will, thigh muscles noticeable twitching. his head flops to the side slightly, half-lidded eyes looking down at you and watching your every move.

you lean in and lick the side of his shaft a few times before pressing your tongue against his tip and swiping it several times. his salty pre-cum coats your tastes buds, making you feel more excited.

you rub your thighs together as the heat in your groin is unbearable at this point. you're desperate for some sort of friction and attention but you're too into pleasuring felix. with the way felix is right now, you know he is going to be selfish and chase his own high.

your free hand cups and caresses his balls. felix hums softly as you roll and squeeze them gently in your hand whilst kitten licking his tip.

“c’mon, baby. you know i need more than that.” 

you close your eyes as you wrap your lips around his tip. felix shudders and huffs a little, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. you gently suckle on his tip, swirling your tongue around it a few times before slowly lowering your head and pushing more of him into your mouth.

the corner of your lips feels stretched, mouth stuffed. you try to make your jaw slack but even that is a struggle with how thick and long felix is.

you struggle to put half of his length in, settling with a little under. you can feel his tip bumping the back of your throat and saliva is quick to accumulate in your mouth.

felix huffs and puffs, body shuddering and twitching. he reaches down and runs his fingers through your hair a few times. 

you start to bob your head slowly. your hand stroking what your mouth struggles to reach. the head and hand move in synch with each other, providing equally, if not more, pleasure to felix.

he feels the pleasure rushing through his veins and burning. his toes curl against the floorboards and his grip on your hair tightening with each suck as a way to keep him stable and grounded.

“...fuck … baby, m-more..” he pants.

you oblige, increasing speed and intensity. felix's moans become more intense and breathy. his body and mind failing to comprehend the intense feeling of warmth and wetness from your mouth as well as the coolness of your palm.

“... oh fuck.. yes… so fucking good…” 

this just encourages you even more. you remove your hand and place them both on his thighs for stability. you push your head further down his length until you can feel it down your throat.

you hold back your gag reflex, swallowing a few times to tighten your throat around him. felix lets out a string of incoherent moans and whispers. 

your jaw hurts. your lips hurts. your knees hurt and you can't breath but listening to felix whimper and crumble makes it all worth.

you feel him twitch in your mouth. his hips thrusting involuntarily. he's a mess and he's close.

his balls are tightening and his body is coated in a thin layer of sweat. the sensitivity of his cock head is overbearing. 

“don’t stop.. 'm close..” he struggles to say between his moaning. his strangled moans mix in with the sloppy, wet sounds of your mouth. 

he lowers his head, chin tucked into chest as he whimpers. a string of “fuck” leaves his lips as he grips onto you. it doesnt take him long. his cock twitches in your mouth, hot fluid coating your tongue and throat.

felix whimpers and whines, huffing and puffing. his body twitches and jerks. you help him ride out his orgasm before slowly pulling away. 

you look up at him, making eye contact as you swallow. felix shudders and strokes your swollen bottom lip, saliva collecting on the pad of his thumb.

“you did good, yn.” with felix's help, you rise to your feet. the numb feeling of pain on your knees becoming more noticeable now that your legs are outstretched.

“does this mean i’m forgiven?” you mumble. felix nods and strokes your hair gently.

“sorta.” you look at him slightly confused. “my birthday isn't over just yet, yn.”

“true… so, what do you want?” 

felix takes you by the hand and drags you to the bedroom. he gently throws you onto the bed, stripping himself of his clothing as you lean on your forearms and watch.

“i want so much more.” he purrs as he crawls onto the bed, towering over you and kissing the shell of your ear.

“i’m a greedy man, yn. you should know that a blowjob is not nearly enough to satisfy me.”

[arminslovurrr]

ummm thinking abt big beefy men who eat you thru ur panties,you don't know why he's in such a hurry, as soon as the both of you got thru the door he dragged you thru the house all the way to the living room, pushing you on the couch and kneeling between your legs.

it's almost pathetic how this big burly man whines "i-im sorry" he'd stumble over his words "please- just needa taste you baby" he flips up your white frilly mini skirt and pushes your knees to your chest. ur so confused? where do this come from? after a long day of running errands and now he's so erratic and pent up for what? he takes a moment to admire how chubby ur pussy looks in ur baby pink panties n the obvious darker hue in the center of ur panties from arousal seeping thru the fabric.

then it snaps in him, he pushes his head into ur lower region messily licking your clothed slit, ur body's first reaction is to grab onto his hair and force his head to stay where it's at. he's kissing and sucking on your slit before making his way up to the swollen bud, he suckles on the fabric covering the bud causing all types of pornographic sounds to come out of you. you don't even know who's louder with the way that he's groaning and panting like a dog in heat.

he'd shake his head from side to side using his big beefy forearms to keep you still, "mmhah.. stay still girl." he said breathlessly but sternly before lowering his head again. at this point ur panties are soaked with his saliva and ur arousal but he plans to get them wetter, he presses his thumb to your entrance and speeds up his attack on your clit. not once did his low lusted eyes leave ur pretty face, i mean how could they when you were making the cutest expressions all at his expense! Ur eyebrows pinched together with ur bruised lips slightly parted letting out the prettiest sounds he has ever heard.

you can't help but arch ur back off of the bed when he slaps ur pussy

"ohmygoshh .. don't stopp" you embarrassingly whined, "who knew i had such a dirty girl, hm?" he chuckled before placing another firm slap on your puffy clit. you threw ur head back and gripped his forearm tightly, he knew you were almost there, that's the only reason he tugged your drenched panties to the side n slid his middle and ringer finger inside of ur wet cunny. pumping his fingers in and out at a animalistic pace, "fuuckkk's too muchhh" you'd scream looking down to watch "y'er a good girl, you can take it, you always do." he mumbles against your clit, curling his fingers inside of you trying to find that spot that makes you pop.

"dont stop 'm cumminggg fuuuckk !!" you squealed as ur climax came crashing down on you, gripping onto his forearm for dear life while moaning his name. he'd smirk but his fingers never stopped, his mouth never stopped. he kept going. maybe even going faster. you quickly become overstimulated trying to pry and push his head, but he was much stronger than you.

the orgasm came quicker than the last, it felt .. different? it felt hotter and wetter. his fingers grazed against ur sweet spot one more time and you let go, "nngghh, noo more it feels 's weirddd" you pleaded with a now raspy voice as clear fluid splashed again your stomach and his face, causing your eyes and his to widen in surprise.

"damn ur so messy." he says slapping ur clit to see ur release splash even more. he finally let's go of ur legs after licking you clean, all you can do is lay there with ur brain all hazy n ur legs all sore. "you still with me baby?" he teases as he puts ur panties back in place.

"need you to return the favor." was the last thing he said before standing up and placing ur hand on his bulge.

toji … nanami … zoro … reiner …KATSUKIII + any of ur fav burly men !!

an: i trying to write more, i really am but i cant write short lil paragraphs i always turn them into novels so i’m workin on that ! but anyways my bday is in 5 days >0< not proof read

[s-4pphics]

soul ties. part I (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: a product of brokenness. WORD COUNT: 13.4K WARNINGS: ellie’s a painter/art dealer, heavy angst[oc is suicidal and has dissociative episodes + abusive parents/SEXUAL ABUSE(nothing explicitly written but aluded to) + patriarchy/men being predatory/traditionalist households + mentions of cheating + alcoholism + disordered eating/self-harm(cuticle picking) + thoughts of murder + mommy issues/daddy issues + parental grief + homophobia + more patriarchy but with dykes + unhealthy relationships with sex(coping) + brief mention of masturbation + sexual tension + making out + fondling + slapping + DUBCON + just matching freaks to avoid trauma], miscommunication, just 2 socially inept crash outs lol  A/N: hellloo lol. fixed plot bc im venting… s been a very rough few months. i was convinced i lost my very acute skill so uhhh consider this a test. uhh what else… idk when i’ll be back bc im now a piano player #NEWFOUNDESCAPISM LOL.  suggestion: this technically could b read alone but if u care ab context read this first. then this. that is all LOL byeee :p hi taggies we back: @dyk3ang3l @acidblum @mellifluousgirll @elliesatchel @callmewhenyoukan @natgf123 @elliesstella @spaceforescape @floridaopal @lonelyfooryouonly @ellies-converse @amiorca @darkerstarsstuff

fuck the bitch that made this game.  dont buy his shit.

aid links from my inbox: one, two, three, four

What to do, what to do… 

Ellie is a wreck. An agitated, craving, mess. 

What to do… Love your wife, fuck the daylights out of your wife, kill your wife before she kills you… What to do… 

It can’t be that hard to hide a body. Is it still murder if it’s self-defense? Ellie’s sure the next bath you run for her will either be filled with bleach or result in her being forced underwater until she’s lifeless. There are lots of people willing to get their hands dirty for her if that’s the case. Not a trace of you or her would be left and she’d finally be able to escape with only the clothes on her back. The weightlessness in her pockets wouldn’t move her in any way. Nothing compares to freedom. What a suffocating life she lives. 

The guest room mattress becomes less and less plush every time she lays in it. The sheets are itchier and cold and she’s stuck pondering with each swirl of the ceiling fan, wet hair wrapped in a bath towel; restless, fidgety, and honey-like ache in the pit of her stomach, mind warped with lecherous thoughts of her wife that she despises but not as much, her supposed life partner and fuck, how did you two get here…

Stuck with a tension so thick it permeates your home; if you’d even call it that. You’re both successfully trapped between your own walls; Elegant windows take the place of rusted, metal bars that confine you from the life you both dreamed of before all this; one soft and doting and colorful, one where your light isn’t dulled. 

Why does she feel so guilty, suddenly? You’re not lovers, and neither in love, so why does her chest ache with every glance she steals when you’re unassuming? The pain that’s always etched on your face, and if not, in your eyes — fills her with regret. She would abandon you for days — weeks at a time, not at all concerned about what you might be experiencing to rid herself of shame. And to think that you were merely a younger version of your mother; villainous and cruel and greedy when… when you’ve barely spoken. She finds herself, unfortunately, reminiscing on how bushy-tailed you were after marriage. So eager to please and prick her mind and annoyingly mechanical. You cooked at the same time everyday. Cleaned, did both your laundry, sunbathed, swam in your pool. She hated how rehearsed your lifestyle was; it reminds her of the worst parts of her childhood. When her mother was alive. So, Ellie chose to step out on you the second you took her last name; ravaged other women, released her anger and desires on strangers when she should’ve had you beneath, above, on your knees for her. Where has that craving to harm you gone? For months, she’s ached for your suffering to mirror hers, but now… What’s happening to her? What’s happened to you? 

Ellie believes you’ve lost it, and somehow she’s found herself chasing that unforeseen part of you; unfiltered and angry and wild. This manufactured doll your mother molded you into is shattering at the core and Ellie craves to see more of you. Guilty. As hurt as you were, that night was the most alive she’s seen you be. You shouted and cried and tore at the seams, desperate for someone to hear you, and Ellie did. Loud and clear. She saw you for what you are. Mangled from the inside out, entirely hopeless. Just like she is. An unspeakable link that binds the two of you.

Soul ties. 

She shook and pleaded for you to enter the bathroom and see her battered against the shower wall with a hand between her legs and your name dripping from her lips, but the knob never twisted. Her orgasms were unsatisfactory, and she accepted with irritation that it was because you weren’t there. She ignored the throbbing between her legs and vacated the bathroom. Ellie, with legs that trembled, found you wrapped in satin and snoring. They sounded like whistles. 

She stood for a while, just watching you twitch and wiggle in your rest, eyes glazing to the space beside you that could easily fit another body. The sheets are already warm from where you lay. The two of you have never slept in the same room, let alone bed. 

Her feet carried her out. Silently left the room with an unfamiliar ache in her chest. 

Her mind made an enemy out of you because that’s what you are. When she thought her life couldn’t get any worse, you appeared and destroyed everything in her path. Left her world in ruins. Disrupted her pattern. You’re an enemy and deserve to hurt. 

Aren’t you? Don’t you? 

Everything is unclear. Ellie hasn’t been this conflicted since she was 15. She wishes she could sleep forever so she wouldn’t be forced to think. 

If she had any sense left, she would paint her agony away. In the past, her mind would shut down with every splash of color on a canvas to compensate for the darkness that conjured in her mind. She refrains from that now, though. She’s horny; scared she’ll start imagining what your pussy looks like and sketch it all over the bedroom walls. That’d be too much; a boundary that will remain untouched.

But her brain knows she’s not a good person; she can’t help but imagine how gorgeous your pussy is because you are and she’s known that since the beginning, the second she saw you drenched in white. Drenched in sorrow. 

She clutches your wedding band in her palm. 

What to do… what to do… 

Birds are artists. 

They never fail to sing every morning; sonnets aimed to awaken life as sun rays spill from behind mountains. You've always appreciated their tunes whenever you were pulled from a hollow rest, no longer surrounded by darkness. 

Maybe it was the routine your mother set for you from young. You were 9 when she first coddled your drowsiness as she shook you awake at five in the morning; the early bird catches the worm, a saying you naively assumed as preparation for the day, for your homeschooling. An energy booster, possibly. Motivation. Something to get you through. 

How stupid could a child be? 

You were 12 when your cycle started. You were 12 when you realized that your mother never envisioned actual birds and worms like you had. Your mother has games she plays and she cheats. She’s had you on a leash for the past decade; the scars around your neck are forever a reminder of the hell you’ve endured under her hand. It took no effort on her part to be uncaring of your suffering, and somehow that aches more than anything else. 

Even more than the existence of him. A demon walking.

Animals aren’t like your family. Birds aren’t. The minute specks of sunlight begin, their job starts, and they complete it happily without compensation or praise or the slightest acknowledgment. Everyone wakes, and they fly to anywhere to wake the next. 

But wealth is dirty. Wealth makes people dirty. They swindler and lie and experience life with a vacancy that’ll never be filled with anything but greed. Your mother trained you for years to accept whatever was given as long as you were taken care of. Play your part, she’d say. It took you years to learn her strategy — and unlearn yourself — but you’re here. Married. Successful by association. Rich. Unhappy. Unloved. 

Birds guided you. They never shy from their duty, and you hadn’t either… 

But you’re human. You crack and cry and scream and you hate. You despise so strongly that you lash out and everything in your path becomes victimized. Sometimes it gets to a point where you crave blood. You want to drown in it, drink it until you’re sick. Your soul is dead. Everyones’ should die with yours. 

You don’t know who should go first. Your mother, your stepfather, or your wife. 

You want to swallow Ellie whole—

“Good morning.” 

You’ve never seen Ellie not dolled up. She clearly just awakened with her wrinkled MILFS ONLY shirt and sporadic hair. Timidity doesn’t suit Ellie. You're so used to seeing her exasperated. Her weary eyes don’t meet yours. You should tell her your plans to adopt a hummingbird. Or maybe you shouldn’t. She might laugh at you.

“Hello.” 

“… Hi.” She seems like she wants to say something. You sip your coffee. 

“My dad called.” 

You hum around the rim of your mug. “Woke you up?” 

She merely shrugs. “I uh… did anyone tell you about tomorrow?” 

“Of course not.” 

You don’t expect Ellie to flinch at your tone. You weren’t that sharp, were you?

You might’ve been because she slows her speech. Like she’s approaching a wounded animal, “Dad’s hosting a dinner. Corporate bullshit but we have to go.” 

“Why.” 

She squints at you. “Why what.” 

“Why do we have to go.” Your mug lands on the table harder than expected. 

“To make mommy and daddy look good.” She sneers while approaching her seat, “Did you forget?” 

“I just thought they wouldn’t want two dykes contaminating their spaces anymore.” 

Ellie snorts. “They don’t. Companies do. Gets their cocks hard. Two gay daughters, how progressive!” She mocks and plops on the chair directly across from you, wiping at her eyes. Your throat dries when you notice her wedding band. She hardly ever wears it. You don’t know where you left yours. Since when does she care to wear it? “They’ll do anything they can to get on their good side. They’re… merging organizations or whatever the fuck he said.” 

She swallows. Shrugs uncaringly, “We going?” Her eyes watch your hands squeeze your mug. 

“Are we.” 

She regards your cup with caution. Does she think you’ll throw it? The thought nearly makes you laugh. 

“Yes.” She answers. 

“Okay.” 

Your wife finally looks up and stands, nose upturned, “Okay? That’s all you got?” 

“Yes. Okay.” You sip silently. Your foot taps on hardwood. 

“Excited to see your family? You like ‘em now?” 

Excited is laughable. 

“No, I don’t.” 

The sudden calamity from your wife confuses you. She tugs at the strands that flop on her head in agitation. They look soft as they bounce with her pacing. You’ll never feel them. Or you might later. Who knows with her. Who knows with you. 

Ellie’s still talking. Her arms flail like she’s annoyed by you. You’re not sure why. You’re following. You’re allowing her to guide. To control. That’s the entire point of this. That’s why you’re going to dinner with her. She told you to go and that’s it. 

Play your part play your part play yo—

You don’t remember much of anything; the past, the present, but you recall what Ellie sounds like when she’s angry, whether it’s at you, her father, the woman her father is fucking or married to or whatever. If you’d listen, you’ll discover what ticked her off, but your ears ring too loud. Much louder than her screaming. 

You sip your coffee silently. Ellie leaves you at the dining table with a slam of a door. 

You think it’s the first floor’s guest room. 

The sun sets. Ellie can’t remember the last time she’s been home this long. 

She hates the weekends. The gallery is never open and she can’t drown herself in deals. She hates being home when you are. Why the fuck are you always here? You don’t have friends, a job, a life outside of this goddamn house? There’s a sinking in her stomach at the thought of your isolation, but she ignores it. Tries to ignore it.

… Can’t really ignore it. How pestering. You’re a pest. 

She knows nothing about you, only bits of your past expressed through photographs at your mother’s or outbursts in your bedroom. Your stepfather is fucking creepy and your mother’s glare is killer, but that’s about it. Still, she doesn’t think she can hate your parents more than you. 

You’re so fucking weird. Just like them. Unforgiving and unchaste one day then apathetic the next. How the fuck can one communicate with a person like that? 

That feeling in her chest again. Sharp and annoying. Try try try, it says. Begs from her. 

Try and do what? Do fucking what—

It took Ellie 3 seconds to unlock the guest room door and fly down the stairs when a crash rings from the first floor. Glass clatters and you sound in pain and oh fuck did someone break in

There’s red all over the kitchen floor but it’s not blood it’s red wine. Red wine red wine it’s not blood— 

You’re on the kitchen floor surrounded by green shards and dressed so pretty. Hair coiled and free and your face is done up and you’re wearing flowers. There’s flowers all over and your skin shines and why do you have heels on like a play doll?

Ellie palms at the scattered racing of her heart. Everything’s fine, her brain blares, She tripped, that’s it. Clears her throat. Rustles her hair to appear normal. 

She’s not dead. 

“… You good?” 

An unsteady hand rises to throw her a thumbs up. Your body wobbles when you attempt to stand. Ellie ushers to the counter to slide on her slippers, tells you to stop when your palm nearly plants on a shard. 

“Move back before you hurt yourself.” Ellie takes a quick lap around the kitchen for the broom and dustpan. Finds you just as quickly so you don’t accidentally slice an artery. 

Your lashes flutter and her heart follows suit, taking in the mess. “I think I fucked up.” You croak.

Hearing you curse is always odd. She huffs, “It’s fine. Can you stand?” 

Your head shakes and your bottom lip juts. “My… my shoes…”

You slowly plop onto your bottom and rest your back against the dishwasher. You struggle to grip your buckles to pull and slide the strap and Ellie remembers why she hates heels. She sweeps the glass away from you and realizes she should’ve mopped first because the bristles are soaked and streaking the clean parts of the crystal porcelain. When was the last time she cleaned? The maids always do. Sometimes you help. 

You look stunned when Ellie moves to squat in front of you. Jumps back when she adjusts your ankle. 

Her palms hang in surrender, “I’m gonna help you. Relax. Do your knees hurt?” 

You landed right on them. They should. You don’t disarm, eyes guarded and body locked tight, but you shrug. It’s good enough for Ellie. 

She unravels the buckles around both your ankles and tosses them next to you and you just watch. Ellie’s glances are quick and flitting, but she follows the traces of her hands; the sharp inhales whenever her fingers brush against the skin of your leg. You’re not as close as you were last night but she can smell you. Her chest is throbbing. You look like you’re about to cry but you’re drunk. It’s meaningless. Drunk people cry. 

Try try try try 

“Can you stand now?” She croaks. 

It takes a second for you to register her inquiry, but you shrug, and she sighs. When Ellie stands, both her hands extend out to you, but you don’t accept them; She gets jittery under your scrutinizing gaze after nearly a minute passes. Her throat dries and her face burns when you brush her hands away; standing on your own is an unstable journey, but you do, back against the counter to stabilize yourself. You look ill. Your brain must be jumbled. 

“Can you get upstairs on your own?” 

“You talk a fucking lot. Shut up.”  

The corner of Ellie’s mouth rises, but she says nothing. Gives you space to move. 

You take one step, then two more, then your eyes shut and your throat jumps. Uh oh.

“Oh shit, come—“

Ellie guides you to the garbage can near the front of the counter, away from the glass, and you dry heave. Liquid splatters inside the can and Ellie hates this so fucking much. The sounds are enough to make her own stomach lurch. It’s been a while since she’s been around someone this drunk. 

But she holds your waist so you don’t faceplant into your own vomit. 

“Get it out,” She hums with a grimace, “You’re fine.” An I gotcha almost rolls off her tongue but she catches it. She glides a comforting hand over your curved spine because you’re drunk and you won’t remember such gestures in the morning. She prefers it that way. 

You’re not gagging anymore so Ellie removes herself from you. Until she hears a whimper. And a sob so quiet she assumes you’re trying to mask it. Drunk people cry; she’s seen it countless times. Why does that seering feeling spark in her chest for what felt like the billionth time today? Fucking try, for fucks sake! 

“Let’s… let’s get you—“

“I wish I was dead.” 

Your prayer is hollow. Not even sad despite your tears. So, so empty. Ellie’s seen this before, experienced that nothingness countless times, but despite it all, she never learned how to console. Hell, she barely knows how to self-soothe without falling victim to her dark temptations. Even her paint brushes can’t eliminate the constant ache she feels. She just watches the tremble of your shoulders from behind. 

“I really don’t wanna go tomorrow.” You whisper. 

Ellie sighs. There’s no other choice. You know the stakes; follow your families’ commands or lose everything at the drop of a hat. They’ll leave you both on the streets to rot with no remorse if they please, replace the two of you with two normal children. Het children that won’t deviate. You’re both on thin ice as it is. Mainly because of Ellie. She can’t seem to keep herself out of trouble.

“I…” 

I’ll be with you the entire time. I don’t like being around those cunts either. 

“It’ll go by quickly.” She settles. 

“I hate when p-people look at me.” 

“Me too.” 

“I wish my family loved me.” 

Ellie’s softer now. Only slightly. 

“Yeah…” 

A tug in her ribcage. Try. Please, try. 

“Me too.” 

The pounding beneath your skull wakes you quicker than the birds. You shove your face in the pillow you rest on. 

The devil tells you to check the time so you do. The bedside clock says noon, meaning a new day, meaning it’s Saturday meaning you’ll die. Maybe not physically but mentally. You’re so drained and you’ve barely opened your eyes; the idea of leaving bed alone is enough to exhaust you. Your wrists and legs ache like fucking hell on top of that. 

You make fists with both hands. Repeatedly clench and unclench. The weight is different on your wedding finger. Heavier. You haven’t seen your ring since yesterday… or a few days ago — you’re not really sure. You must’ve found it in your drunken stupor. Just when you hoped to never see it again. 

The universe will always remind you who you are. 

If you stand you’ll vomit but your phone is ringing from the drawer you stuck it in weeks ago. How is it not dead? You know your mom’s calling. You hate that she is… 

The ringing stops and you thank the heavens. 

You curse them when it starts up again. 

The drawer slides open with reluctance. The ringing sounds 20 times louder. You retrieve your device blindly and your throat snaps shut when you speak. 

“You rang.” 

“Did your… partner tell you about tonight.” 

Hard and distant. That’s how she speaks to you. Your heart cracks. 

Your mom already knows Ellie did. She loves to bother you with nonsense. You don’t think she’s ever called Ellie your wife. 

“Yes.” 

“You’re attending.” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

“Is that all.” 

“Your gown was delivered here. Come by well before 8 to get ready.” 

And she hangs up. Just like that. Always. She’s never told you to have a nice day, or to rest well, or that she loves you, at the minimum. And if she had, you don’t remember any of it. There’s a lot you force yourself to forget. 

The selfish part of you disregards the burning of your eyes to stare at your phone — low battery and… no messages. No texts, no phone calls from anyone except your mother, no likes on Instagram because your mom scared you into not making one when you were a teenager. No one cares about you. People care about your wife, though. Maybe because she’s talented; she’s certainly not nice. 

Your darkest memories are always the most prominent. 

Your phone drops to the floor and you don’t reach for it. You just pray to sleep again. 

Tonight will be interesting. 

The ride to your mother’s is silent. 

At least she chauffeured the two of you. Ellie can be scary when she drives. You’ve never been in a car with her, but she did ram into a lamppost on the sidewalk a few nights after your wedding. 

Your wife is already dressed despite the party being hours away. She sits right next to you in all black; in a trenchie and turtleneck and slacks and loafers with fur and gold jewelry. When she descended the staircase, you gawked when she wasn’t looking. So simple, but she had your heart fluttering when she’d asked, ready? You’re still in your sleep shorts, teeth unbrushed and starving. When was the last time you ate? 

What an embarrassment — you’re an embarrassment, but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. If only newly wed you could see herself now. 

You swallow a lump when you feel eyes on the side of your face, but yours remain glued out the window. The closer you get to your mom’s, the faster your mind starts to shut down. Everything passes you by in a blur. 

By the time the gates with your father’s initials come into view, your thoughts go silent, only filled with the calming images of nature and the song of birds. Your only escapism. 

The only way you’ll make it out of here in one piece. 

Ellie! Darling! We’ve missed you! Give us a smile! 

Ellie! Ellie, look this way! 

Ellie, where’s your wife? 

She wishes she knew. You’d barely made it into your mother’s home before getting swept down the hall by 4 other people who poked at your appearance. Ellie didn’t even get to give your mom the passive, spine-chilling hi, mom like old times before another SUV came to whisk her away from that hell hole. Her dad always knows somehow. 

She hates being at your mom’s; it’s stifling and quiet and the aura is dark. Like mother, like house or whatever the fuck. 

She scowls when the bombarding questions redirect to you. Some concerning, some sarcastic, some raunchy — those get under her skin in particular — and she can’t stop fiddling with her ring. Her chest tugs tugs tugs. 

Trouble in paradise? 

You were caught leaving the bar with another woman on your arm a few weeks ago! How’d your wife react to that? 

She doesn’t know. She’s never home to see you break. 

Guilt ate at her when the door of your mother’s mansion shut behind her, but she disregards it now. You shouldn’t be forced to listen to their guised jabs; You get enough of that from everyone in your life. She hopes you’ll go through the back entrance when you arrive. 

When will you get here? 

Ellie’s never made an event appearance without you. You’d pose and fidget and display awkward affection so that they’d buy your love a little bit, then enter the gathering as two separate hearts, riddled and torn, never to cross paths until the bustle is over and it’s time to go home. 

Finally, security moves and barricades her until she gets past the 20 foot gate and treads the steps. The flashing cameras are still blinding from behind. 

The tended garden is the first thing she notices. Wide and green. The daisy and rose bushes are no longer tangled with weeds and surrounded by dead grass and gnats. How could Joelene not see that and be vengeful? Ellie and her dad may not be close anymore, but she knows him; maybe even more than he knows himself. He still misses her mom after everything, and chooses to express it through her favorite hiding spot. Keeps the flowers that bloom and trims the ones that don’t so she lives through them. Ellie hardly remembers a time when her mother wasn’t covered in dirty overalls and sunburnt. 

She manages to hold it together when the large double doors open. The violins suddenly sound like nails on wood. 

Voices fade into nothing. People are outside your car. Light hurts so terribly. 

One second you’re here, the next you’re not. Your mom and her husband sit across with twined arms and the lace from your dress is itchy and you wanna disappear. When you blink, you’re gone. You only exist on this plain if your eyes are open. 

Something hard and leather brushes against your ankle, scratches against your stockings, slow and snake-like. You know what it is, who it is, and you freeze, eyes locked onto your mother. No matter your hopelessness, there’s still a young girl in you that wishes your mother would defend, act on anger, be disgusted at minimum. At least when his crimes are done in secret you can’t blame her for not knowing. 

But you’re here and she’s here and he’s here. A shared secret between the three of you. 

His shoe doesn’t halt on your leg. Your mother never looks at you. 

Birds and songs and sonnets. You’re a bird and you can fly against the strongest winds. Music is your guide and you follow the clouds. 

Your fingers twist together in your lap and the black interior of the car glows red. If only… he’s not the only one with sick intentions. If only. 

You’re flying you’re flying you can fly and there’s someone who’ll love you gently. They’re out there somewhere and you’ll find them and they’ll find you like every trial was worth it. 

Patience. That’s all you need. Just be patient. 

The rest of the car ride is unbeknownst to you. Next thing you know, your door is being opened and two men await your entry at the glass door. 

Champagne is good. Tequila is better. The two mixed is hell. 

Ellie’s throat burns and her mind swirls but she plays it off well enough. Mingles with pensive, old bastards while their daughters’ gawk at her with bright-eyed curiosity and you haven’t arrived yet. 

She lost her dad somewhere in the night. He greeted her briefly upon her arrival, pointed out the important men of the night, called your mother a selfish bitch, then walked off with his mistress by his side. Ellie’s eyes keep meeting the back door from the living room. 

Where are you? 

“Ellie!”

She downs the rest of her chute and guards her agitation with a grin. Shakes the hand of… 

What the fuck was this dude’s name? 

“It’s an honor! Your art is incredible! I’ve truly—“

—Fucking Ronald? Reginald? … Ronald might be it—

“—Your father, ya know, he’s an interesting man, incredibly smart! I’ve never—“

Her dad gave her a run-down of the … merging or whatever the fuck but what the fuck did he say and holy shit, is she sweating? The man’s handshake threw her off, frankly; almost snapped her wrist in two. Fucking old piece of shit. More business jargon that she pretends to understand and care so much about because it’s a show after all. All cheers and stiff laughter. 

“And your wife! By God, what a looker!”

Her jaw clenches. Where are you where are you where are you

“What we’d give, I mean, c’mon!” Men that pass laugh with him and it’s taking everything in Ellie not to smash this glass over his head. One quick swing and it’s over. For him and her. How promising.

“Where is she anyway? You two didn’t come together?” 

“She um, she’s with her parents right now. They’ll be here.” She jerks her chin toward the entrance. 

“How lucky are you. Treat her like the star she is!” It looks like the shithead’s leaving, but not before taunting, “Holler when she arrives, will ya?” 

And just like that, he leaves Ellie to simmer. Three deep breaths. A man in a suit and tray filled with champagne waltzes passed her and she snags two glasses. Downs the first in one thick swallow before another clinks with hers. 

Why does everyone keep fucking with her? 

“Cheers.” 

Ellie doesn’t need to look to know who it is. She scoffs. “Sounds like you’re having fun.” 

Jolene stands next to her, shoulders slouched and dress glowing under the chandelier. She arches a dark brow, “Who wouldn’t? Men are the most entertaining when they’re on ego trips.” 

“Same goes for my dad?” She snips, and Jolene shocks her with a smile. 

“Meh.” 

“Why are you here.” 

“I just told you—“

“No, where are you here.” Ellie gestures between them, “Why’re you talking to me right now?” 

Jolene downs her drink and shrugs, “My attempts at bonding. On a scale of 1 to 10, how shit were they?” 

“900. Leave me the fuck alone.” Before Ellie can run, a hand clamps down on her wrist. 

“I know—“ The woman rushes, “I know we don’t have the best relationship, but I’m not—“

Ellie almost corrects her out of pettiness; They don’t have a relationship, period. There’s no best or worst. But her sudden desperation halts her. 

“—the enemy. There’s not a lot for us in these spaces. I just wanted to try and establish something. Anything. Between us. It can be so lonely without a real support system.”

Ellie hates the direction her heart turns her mind. Suddenly you’re there and you’re crying and clawing at your chest and Ellie just watches like she did that night. So powerless. So empty. 

But Jolene isn’t you. She chooses to be selfish. Yours comes from self preservation and nothing else. 

Ellie snatches her hand back and throws her the deadliest stare. “You don’t know shit about being lonely. You’re the one who gave up everything you had to fuck my dad when my mom wasn’t looking. How much did you care about her loneliness then? Hm?” 

The timing was perfect, really. 15 year old Ellie watched her parents get into one of their most abhorrent arguments; her dad leaves first, then her mom, then only one of them returns, and it was not her mother. Imagine her shock when a news reporter confirmed that her mother’s body had been thrown in a garbage bag and left in a dumpster to rot. It only took two weeks to mourn before he was marrying another woman. 

Nobody cared that her mother had been shot or stabbed or gutted. She was just a woman married to a successor who raised a deviant child. 

Ellie forces herself to not point fingers, though. Anyone could’ve killed her, she always reminds herself; to keep her from going fucking crazy. But timing… 

How telling is time. 

Jolene’s eyes widen and her grip weakens. Ellie takes that as an escape before she has a breakdown in front of the caviar platter. 

She barely takes a step before she collides with a body. 

Funny. 

She bumped right into a star that shines a royal blue. The woman of the hour, for sure. In her mind, at least.

“Sorry.” You whisper.

“You’re fine. All me.” Ellie says lowly as she takes you in, and you do the same to her. Shy, but yearnful glances. Glossed lips tightly sealed and brows tense. Your dress shimmers and holds you snug and she feels guilty for staring at your curvature. She’s suddenly hyper aware of the vultures that disguise themselves as men and she has an instinct to hide you. And your ring is on. The thumping in her chest picks up. Only slightly. 

“It’s great to see you again.” Jolene says shakily from beside Ellie and she almost loses it before a grating voice interrupts. 

“You, as well. And your husband is…?” 

Your mother. And her lap dog wagging his tail beside her. What a bitch. Both of them. 

Your stepdad says something and you inhale sharply and no one notices but Ellie. She studies you carefully. You look like a frightened cat with a frilled tail as he speaks. Claws out, not because you’re ferocious, but so, so scared. She glances at your stepdad; greasy smile while he ogles at Jolene; what a nasty son of a bitch. 

Ellie whispers to you, “Is everything o—“

“Joel! Man of the hour! How are—“

“Where’s the bathroom again?” You whisper back. 

Ellie takes your hand in hers and flees while the family’s distracted, leading you down a hallway that’s way too long with lights too bright. 

She gestures towards the door. “It’s… This is it. One of ‘em at least.” 

“… Thank—“

“What’s the matt—“ 

“I’m fine.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Did that piece of shit say something to you?” Ellie glances to make sure no listeners are hiding in the shadows. 

The widest smile grows on your face as you laugh, hearty and loud with your head thrown back. Ellie stares in confusion. 

“Oh, Ellie! You’re so silly,” She jumps when your hands hold her cheeks. You’re fucking freezing and they tremble. Your eyes are a dark void. 

You lean in closer, lips right against her mouth and they part slightly on instinct. She’s concerned and should ask more questions, but your skin is so soft. Are you gonna kiss her, she wonders? You haven’t kissed since your wedding; your breath hits her mouth and her tongue swipes her lips. Her eyes flutter shut and she aches to touch you—

“Save a seat for me, love? Please?” 

It happens so fast; the frost of you is gone and the bathroom door slams shut while an elderly woman fondly whispers, “young love,” as she walks by. Ellie only nods with a rigid curl of her lips, throat cinched too tightly to swallow. 

You puzzle her. She’s tempted to wait for you, to ensure you make it back safely without bombardment, but then 

“Ellie! Why didn’t you call me! Your wife made it safely, I see!” 

A hand claps on her shoulder while men laugh from the side, boisterous and predatory and so wide their fangs show. Ellie’s sick and a war rages within her. 

“Your father sent me to find you! It’s time to eat!” 

She sends them a weak smile. She rushes away from the door and they follow close behind. 

Anything to lure them away from you. 

Attendees have dwindled, only Ellie and her family and you and yours and some CEOs that are really getting on her fucking nerves. But you’ve eaten, thank God. She can breathe a little. 

Only a bit, though. You’re putting on a fucking show and it’s scaring her; Even her dad seems impressed. Charmed by you. Clinking glasses and telling jokes and smiling. Did your mom hold you at gunpoint before you got here? How much did you drink? Not much from what she’s seen. 

That one fucker from earlier — Raymon or Robert or whatever the fuck — keeps leaning over the table whenever you do. Peeping at your chest, probably. She wishes these steak knives were sharper. 

“So! Our young couple,” says Old Bitch with a Combover and wiggly brows, “When are we getting those heirs?” 

You cough uncomfortably and Ellie squirms in her seat. Your mother scoffs, “Two women can’t have children—“

Said Old Bitch shrugs, “Well, not biologically—“

“My point exactl—“

Ellie’s father cuts in with a tense grin, “When they get to that point, we’ll discuss their options. There’s… many nowadays, evidently.” 

Neither you or Ellie interrupt, but she notices you’ve moved closer to her. Inched your seat a bit. You squeeze your hands so hard in your lap she’s scared they’ll shatter where they lay. You’re not smiling anymore. 

Her dad and your mom are subtle with their blows at one another; snarky with brutal stares, unremarkable to strangers, but you and Ellie know. When dinner ends, you’ll both be caught in their crossfire. 

“There’s no shame in me wanting my grandchildren to be by blood. I shouldn’t have to go shopping for an heir.” Your mother hisses. 

“Sh—“ Joel huffs with disgust, “Shopping for an heir? That’s what you think adoption entails?” 

“Does it not?” Your mother’s tone rises. 

Reggie, Rory, or Russell interjects with a dismissive wave, “C’mon, you too! No need to argue. I’m sure girls like them will be fine with obtaining children! It might be more… complicated, I will say!” 

“May I be excused?” You croak, and Ellie straightens. 

“Why? So you can wallow about dying childless?” 

The table silences. No laughter, no wittiness. Completely still. That wasn’t from your mother. Ellie doesn’t remember the last time she’s heard your stepdad speak so clearly. Her blood thrashes beneath her skin so harshly that her tongue unties. There’s a darkness in her that whispers, “grab that steak knife”. Brutalize him. Just for a second. Do it for you. 

Do it for her. 

“Go fuck yourself.” She spits. 

Your neck almost cracks with the speed you turn to her, eyes wide as the moon. Her father condemns, “Watch your mouth, Ellie.” 

“Or what, you old fuck?” 

Her heart rattles noisily in her chest; her hands shake where they rest on her lap, her cells trembling with the instinct to harm. The gaze of her father is distant and filled with inadequacy for his only line. Nothing unbeknownst to her, but there's a flash of something so deep, so forbidden for them, but she sees it every time they hold contact. Beneath all the loathing and lesions left to drain, there’s longing. An inkling of gratitude that she knows he’ll suppress until he’s buried underground. He’ll never look the same to her, and she imagines the same for him. Too many bridges burned. 

“How’d I do?” Ellie rasps to him, “Hm? The night went how you hoped?” 

Look at what you’ve done, she hopes her eyes say. Tears welt against her will. When was the last time she cried in front of him? She hadn’t even given him that honor at her mother’s funeral years ago. 

Ellie’s stiff stature nearly cracks at the light brush atop her knee. A wind catches in her throat when a pinky turns into three fingers, then five, then a palm that squeezes comfortingly, desperately. Maybe partly to keep her glued to this chair. She gulps the dryness down and a flame lights in the pit of her stomach. 

Her glance to you is brief, barely out of the corner of her eye, but you’re watching her. Intensely, and it scorches her cheeks, all the way down to her neck. Scared cat. Scared cat. Shrilled and cold and frightened to hell and she despises it. 

What changed? She’ll always wonder. That look hardly shook her a week ago and now it makes her teeth ache. 

Suddenly, it’s too warm here. 

“Get up,” Ellie rushes you. Grabs your arm and yanks you from your seat, “Not dealing with this fuckin’ bullshit tonight. We’re leaving.” 

There’s suddenly shouting from all directions of the dinner table with each step Ellie takes for you, but you never drop her hand. She clenches it tighter when you finally reach the back door. 

The door slams shut on the wreckage behind you. 

Consider plan MERGE a bust. 

Ellie’s a thief. You think. Maybe. 

Is it stealing if the car belongs to a family member? Where she snagged the keys from? You don’t remember. One second you’re at dinner, then watching the city pass you by the next. It’s silent in here. 

“Stop.” 

You slam back into your body. Still in the car. You wish you were asleep. 

“Huh?” 

Her eyes watch the road, but a hand rests on both of yours to pry them apart. 

“Stop. I hate that sound.” 

“… Wha—“

“You’re gonna rip your skin off if you don’t stop.” 

… Oh. Yeah. Bloody cuticles. It was all accidental, you swear. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Her eyes shut briefly and she sighs, sounding so worn. Exhaustion is her white flag. “Just stop.” 

“Alright.” 

“Thanks.” 

It’s quiet again. The red from the stop light reflects in the car and you’re instantly reminded of your stepfather. 

“Ellie.” 

“Hm.” 

“We should get a bird.” 

“… And do what with it.” 

You shrug, “Pet it. Feed it, too.” Sing with it, you wanted to add. Ellie would’ve probably laughed at you. 

She snickers dryly, “That’s usually what you do with a pet.” 

“I never had one.” 

The light turns green and the car revs. Your wife hums, “I had a fish once or twice.” 

“Lucky.” 

A small — very, very minuscule grin quirks Ellie’s lips and your heart hollers. For joy? In warning? 

“Not really. They kept dying so I gave up.” She snickers to herself, and you can’t help but stare. She starts talking then. Eyes gone, tension gone. She’s suddenly relaxed. 

“My mom… she, uh… loved water. Was always in it or… watching it on TV or something. She always bought fish from fucking… PetCo—“

“PetCo?” You laugh, then Ellie does. 

“Right? She’d take me and be like, “get one”. And I went home with a new fish every time.” 

“I thought you only went once or twice?” 

“… Times 100,” She giggles, “My mom lived there. She would always talk to the cats through the glass.” 

You don’t hesitate, “I wanna go.” 

“To PetCo?” 

“Yeah.” Why not? 

Everything is almost over. So, why not? 

“… K.” 

“So we’ll go?” 

“Mhm.” 

And the conversation ends. The car is silent. Suddenly tense again when you ask, 

“Do you think we’re cut off?” 

Ellie’s jaw clenches and the car is suddenly tense. Back to square one. “Possibly. Tonight was a shit show. It went by fast, at least.” 

“What’s gonna happen to me?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m…”

Alone. You’re fucking alone and know nothing about life outside of what was built around you. Without it, you’ll spiral and fail and face a dreadful reality. No more rose colored glasses even if they’re browned and wilted as is. You’ll be eaten alive by the creatures in the night without a protective border. 

But the curse will end. You won’t inherit or be forced to lie or play a game that ends in fire. Decades of legacy down the drain just like that, and by your own hand. It fascinates you, that power. A force you’ve been withheld from. 

“I don’t know.”

“Still thinking about divorce?” A void in Ellie’s tone. 

“I don’t know.” 

“They’ll never allow it, you know that, right?” 

“What if I just leave?” 

“And do what?” Her voice raises. 

“Who knows. Who cares.” 

“Please,” Ellie exasperates, “Your mom will get fucking SWAT to bring you back.” 

“What good will a corpse do for her?” 

You’ll be dead but you’ll have a bird. A colorful one. That’ll be your legacy. That’s all you need, really. Ellie doesn’t say anything. Neither do you. 

More buildings flash by and suddenly you’re home. Parked in the garage with Ellie beside you, gazing off into opaque walls. You wonder what she’s thinking. If she sees everything in black and white like you do. Maybe she’s the opposite, vision bright and full of suppressed color. She is a painter after all. 

“What’re your plans?” Ellie suddenly whispers. 

“For?” 

“Life. The future. Anything,” She pries and digs for something, “There has to be something that interests you! That gets you excited! There’s so much shit to do.” 

You shrug. Not much. Not anything. 

“I used to be excited for my wedding,” You mumble, “Like… as a kid. White dress and flowers and everyone’s just excited to be there. For love, and whatever, you know? That’s how it was in movies, at least.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s off your chest. The unhealthy romanticization of the happiest day of your life ended up being just another day to honor the greed of your families. Everyone was so lifeless when they watched you and Ellie kiss. It hadn’t even lasted 3 seconds before she shoved the band on your finger with teary cheeks. Such beautiful scenery was wasted on misery. 

You look over and Ellie’s eyes are roaring, palms squeezing together in her lap while her wedding ring twists around her finger. You watch it cycle. 

“Now I…” You chuckle sadly, “I just want a bird, to be honest.” 

With your heels and purse in hand, the car door opens and you exit, forcing yourself not to peek through the windshield at Ellie again. 

The second floor, your bedroom, your bathroom, are all quiet. Did Ellie not follow you inside? For a while, you envision what it would be like if you weren’t married. If you weren’t born as you, would your world be this still? 

It haunts you in the shower. Wolffish eyes and dry hands grasping at your shoulders and waist but everything’s quiet. 

You wash your face, brush your teeth, wrap your hair alone. You wonder if anyone is actually in the house. Was Ellie a figment of your imagination? Is this one of the nights that proves she doesn’t exist and that your brain is your greatest enemy? You shove your face into the mattress before your thoughts venture. Silence rocks you to sleep, but not forgetting the taunting desire to know 

Is death this quiet? 

Your mom’s calling. 

Vibrations rattle in your bedside dresser. The sun isn’t up yet. The birds are still resting. She never calls this early… or late. Something bad must’ve happened. It takes 17 seconds for your drawer to stop shaking before it starts again. 

You can’t move to answer, though. Your body isn’t yours at the moment. Your soul will reclaim its shell soon enough. Or maybe it won’t. 

Your drawer shakes shakes shakes. Your heartbeat eventually matches the pace of its vibrations. You think it’s been 20 minutes. Maybe longer. When will the birds wake? 

Finally, the calls stop. Your eyes shut again. Instantly taken by darkness. 

You never wear normal clothes. 

Ellie’s only ever seen you in thousand dollar dresses and high heel shoes that scrape your achilles and cloth that squeezes you so tight she thinks she might explode by just looking at you. No matter how fucking good you look in them. 

So what the fuck is that? Moreso, why does she like it so much? Her cheeks are on fucking fire and her heart is trying to flee its enclosing. 

You have a t-shirt on. A simple, non-Gucci white tee that says LAS VEGAS and black shorts and a scarf on your head and socks with squirrels on them. Is this the fucking matrix? 

You never wake up this late, either. It’s 20 till 10. 

“Did my mom call you at all?” 

No… no she didn’t… Why can’t Ellie speak? She’s sitting there gaping like a fish and taking guilty glances at your nipples through your shirt. She shakes her head. You nod yours. 

“I uh…” She mumbles with a cotton mouth when you step into the kitchen, “I made coffee.” 

“I smelled it.” You serve yourself at the counter. 2 Splenda packs, no cream.

“Did your mom call you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What’d she say?” 

“I didn’t answer.” 

… Interesting. Odd. Her calls are never missed by you. 

“I hope it’s something bad.” 

Ellie swallows her sip thickly. “… Damn. Why?” 

“She deserves it.” You say calmly while stirring. “He does, too.” 

“Your dad?” 

“My stepfather,” You hiss and slam your mug on the table. Ellie flinches, “Yes.” 

Her palms raise in surrender, “Sorry.” 

“Where do you go at night?” The chair across from her scrapes on hardwood when you sit. 

Nowhere, recently. Ellie shrugs as nonchalantly as she can, “Anywhere. Wherever I want.” 

“Take me next time.” 

She pauses her sip to ogle. “Hm?” 

“Take me. I wanna see what’s fun for you.” 

Ellie huffs a shocked laugh, “No, you don’t.” 

You squint, “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m asking to see.” 

“It’s not your scene, dude, trust m—“

She jolts where she sits when a hand — your hand, soft and agile and cold, slams down on the table, rattling both your mugs and the vase that holds dead flowers, nearly shattering the glass with an accusatory finger. 

“You dunno know shit about me! I’m fucking going whether you like it or not! Whether she likes it or not, and if I have to do it myself, I fucking will, you fucking psychotic fucking bitch!” 

You rise and stomp to where she sits with a pounding heart and a lecherous swirl in her gut. You look about ready to slice her open with a blunt butter knife. 

“You treat me like fucking trash just like everyone else,” You whisper venomously, and Ellie shakes, “The least you could do is listen for once. Scared to take me to the place you cheat on me at? Don’t want me to see it? That’d be too real, huh?” 

Ellie exhales a shaky breath of your name, but your nails, cut and manicured to perfection, sink into her cheeks so tightly that she winces and blushes and her tummy twists with heat. You don’t flinch when her fingers delicately entangle around your wrist; doesn’t want you to think she’s holding you there even though she is. 

“You’re gonna show me a good time tonight. If it’s as fun as you say, that shouldn’t be an issue, right?” 

Her eyes must read yes, yes, it’s not a problem; Your grin is wild like a hyena; pretty lips swelled around pretty teeth and you always smell good. Caramelized sugar and nectar.  

“Who knows,” You purr and Ellie feels goosebumps forming, “Maybe I can meet one of your little friends.” 

She chokes around a gasp before her lips curl into a conniving grin, cheeks plush around your fingers, “Aren’t you a little hussy.” 

“Fuck you.” You shove her so hard her back collides with the seat but her eyes glow pink. She watches you leave the kitchen and stomp up the steps with a burning chest until a door slams from upstairs. She releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding, wracked and desperate. 

-

-

-

Ellie will never admit — or maybe she will, but she purposefully uses your shared bathroom to catch glimpses at you. She always expects to find you out cold and wrapped in warm blankets, chest fluttering with each twitch of your socked feet that peek from below the blankets. 

What she doesn’t expect to see, though, is your phone shattered to pieces and left to drown in the clogged sink. Right next to a weighted rubber mallet; Where’d you find that? All your pent up emotions were taken out on your device… and the counter, apparently. The marble is chipped. 

She can only laugh in astonishment. Amazement. Fear when she realizes… 

Your mom.

Did you ever answer the phone?

Another day you’ve slept away. Either you were dreaming or someone was holding you suffocatingly tight; you enjoyed it, strangely. The sun is completely gone and there’s rustling and music echoing from the bathroom. Ellie’s in there. 

All the blood rushes to your head with how quickly you sit up, but your feet carry you past your closets until the light from the room sizzles your vision. 

Your wife stands by the mirror, drying her hair with a towel with a cigarette between her fingers. The guitar synths coming from her phone are grinding in your ears. 

Is she really keeping her promise? 

Did she promise to take you? You don’t remember. 

“Hi.” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror and your spine twitches. You say nothing, so she chuffs with a teasing lift of her lips, “Chickenin’ out?”

“No.” 

“K.” 

“What do I wear?” 

She shrugs, “Whatever you want to.” She speaks around smoke and her timbre’s dry. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“Whatever I want to.” 

She must sense your skepticism because she’s suddenly reassuring, voice crackly, “You’re not under any expectations tonight. You wanted me to show you what I do for fun, and I’m gonna. You just have to do your part and enjoy it.” 

Your nails dig into your thighs while you watch her. She has her ring on and her body wash coats the room in cinnamon. With a pounding heart, your hands slowly drag up your sides, fingers dragging at the hem of your shirt. She’s not looking. 

Enjoy it…

“Did you eat today?” 

“No.” 

She gives you a look. Stern. What is she mad about? Your tummy flutters, “There’s leftovers downstairs, you can have ‘em,” She shakes her wet hair and puts on her glasses, checks her watch, checks her phone, hits her cigarette. “We’re kinda behind so you should get read—“

Enjoy it. 

Her eyes meet where your shirt drops to the floor, breasts on display while your hands inch up your legs to drag your shorts down, all while you watch her. And she watches you. It’s overwhelming, your wife as an audience while you undress. But she told you to enjoy it. Enjoy the night. Enjoy the stares. Enjoy the attention. Enjoy her, for once. It all seeps into your pores. You step out of your bottoms and peel your socks off. 

Ellie drinks you in slowly. Says nothing. Simply takes her time memorizing every line, curve, dip, scar of you. You like how ravenous she looks. The sin in her pupils only darkens when your thumbs hook in your underwear to shed them. They dangle from your index finger when you walk; You smile when her throat jumps. 

She watches your filled hand travel to her pant pocket to shove the flimsy cloth in. The muscles in her back twitch when your finger traces her spine. Ellie’s pretty, littered in cute, red and brown spots. 

“I’m gonna shower.” Your lips brush her ear, and goosebumps rise all over her arms. Her eyes flutter in a pleasant blink, nodding in understanding. 

Your wife takes her lighter and reignites your favorite candle while your water warms. How sweet of her to set the mood for you. 

Ellie finishes her cigarette while you lather, watching her through the fogged glass of the shower walls, massaging soapy hands into your breasts and your legs and everywhere. She lights another at some point, bent over the counter while she smokes, ogling you through the mirror shamelessly. You smile when it settles in your chest.

You’re gonna fuck your wife tonight. 

What a fucking oddball you are. It’s cute. A little sexy, too. Only a little, she swears. 

… Fuck. 

She waits for you on the bed, dressed and jewelried, fiddling with her watch out of nerves because what the fuck are you playing at? Whiplash; that’s what she’s had all fucking day because of you. She works in the morning, for fucks sake. 

Still…

Does she deserve this sudden… What the fuck even is this? Certainly not affection; you nearly strangled her at the dining table. Attention, possibly? Seduction? She’s wired to hell, she wants you so bad. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She could act on her attraction, sure. She’s positive you’d allow her to take whatever she wanted because that’s what you’re trained to do; to satisfy your partner — husband, she imagines your mother grating — in any way he desires. But Ellie’s not a man, and she doesn’t want that. She needs you to love it, to crave it as much as she does. To take from her like she dreams of taking from you. Ellie needs you to batter her, and if you’d like, she’ll do the same to you. 

If only you’d give her something tangible. Teasing isn’t enough. She’s desperate to get a grasp on your headspace; she wishes she could prick and prod at your brain for a second. What an experience that would be. 

You enter the bedroom like a ghost; hair still wet and coily, dressed in all black like she is, only decorated with gloss and earrings. No heels either. Just very shimmery looking flip-flops. Ellie bites down a smile. 

“Where are we going?” 

She shrugs at your inquiry, “Somewhere really, really loud.” 

“Will people find us?” Paps, you mean. Ellie denies. 

“Not where I’m taking you.” 

“Must be secretive.” 

She tuts, “Not… well, maybe. It’s fun though. I think you’ll like it.” 

“Okay.” 

Ellie stands with her wallet and keys and kiddingly offers you an arm to hold onto. “M’lady.”

But you don’t accept it; back turned, halfway out of the room towards the stairs.

Pleasant. She doesn’t mean to smile. 

She makes sure to grab the to-go box from earlier before locking the front door behind her. 

It is very loud here. And hot. And raunchy. 

… You like that. Your mom would have a heart attack if she were to ever walk in here. 

The trip to this whatever, wherever place was pretty far. You counted every second of the nearly hour ride, mainly because Ellie’s jittery knee made you nervous. It’s smaller than you assumed, but not quaint. Not at all. There's a ruckus from the entrance to the back exit, people your age and older, screaming and shouting words that you don’t know while people pound on drums and shred on guitar. They sweat through their clothes while their makeup streaks down their faces as they make love to microphone stands. 

… Better than tea time, you suppose. How exhilarating. Your heart’s pounding like crazy.

Not much can be said between you and Ellie. You can’t hear over the bass and rumbles from the floor but she holds your hand and small purse. Guides you to a small section in the back with a bar. She hands the tender her card and… that’s it. Four clear, questionably large shots are poured and slid to her like nothing. You want all of them. 

Ellie seems so at home as she guides you, already a burning shot down, into the crowd. You’re shoved instantly by party goers, but she catches you, holds you strongly. You look at her, puzzled with shock, but she uncaringly lifts her shoulders, downs a shot, and starts thrashing. 

Your jaw slacks and lights beam and flicker at a rapid pace but you’re smiling. Your wife meshes with the scene so nicely. You wanna be like that. So you follow. You drink and jump and flail and scream your head off. 

You and your wife are synched for once. Terrible dancers. No rhythm whatsoever. Who cares who cares who cares.

You wish your mom was here to see you like this. You hope your mom’s dead so she never has to see you like this. A thought so dark shouldn’t bring you this much joy. You laugh and holler at the imagery. Blood all over the marble. Blood all over the doors of your childhood home. Blood blood blood everywhere because they deserve it. Look at what they’ve done to you. Sick evil people.

You wanna kill your stepfather. This music makes you wanna kill your stepfather. It’s gorey in itself, almost. Abborherent verbiage. You think Ellie wants to kill your stepfather, too. You should ask her later. Maybe when you're both sober. Maybe you should make your mom watch you skin him alive. Him dying would damage her more than you ever could. 

When your eyes open, Ellie’s gawking at you, seemingly surprised. Impressed? She holds your cheeks to get your attention, gesturing, asking if you want another drink. You nod and shout in her face and she laughs. Ellie holds you by the waist and guides you to the bar. The bartender must like Ellie. You leave with a full bottle this time. 

You and Ellie pass it between yourselves, the night becoming more and more broken. Touchy. Feely. Ellie rubs all over you while you pour liquor into her mouth. A bit dribbles down the sides but she doesn’t care. You don’t either. So you lick the drops from her neck like a cat with milk. Ellie stops and you stop and everything stops. It’s just the two of you, suddenly; all other patrons evaporate to nothingness. Her eyes are blown and heavy as she searches your face, and they halt their wandering at your lips. She’s thinking about it; You want her to see how bad you crave it. Even if it’s just for a second. She smiles, pleased. You shudder. 

But she doesn’t do it. She spins you so your back is against her chest, lips at your neck while she pushes her hips into your ass. She’s messy, drenching your already sweaty neck in spit. Her nails dig into the fabric of your dress, guiding your hips, swaying you on her. You follow. You follow so blindly because you like her hands on you a little too much. You drink and drink and drink. Everything feels light. Good. 

You think Ellie’s speaking to you. Or singing words in your ear. Or maybe she isn't speaking at all. You’re not sure, but your face is burning hot. She tongues at your ear and you make a noise that you can’t hear but hope she can. You need this. 

Her hands are suddenly slow where they crawl up your sides until they rest on your breasts. Your empty hand lands on one of hers to squeeze so that she can squeeze you. You feel her smiling on your skin when your jaw slacks. 

Your head turns to chase her mouth, but she does you one better. Whisks you once more so your chests smash together. She snatches the bottle from your hand, takes one last swig before passing it to eager, drunk hands that wave from behind. You gasp when her thumb catches your bottom lip, pulls it down to get your mouth open enough for her to dribble liquor into. You moan loud enough for Ellie to hear over those booming drums, swallowing down everything she gives, nails sank into her waist while her hips push into yours. When you swallow the last drops, she kisses you. Messy and hot, tongue and teeth; it gets your heart singing. Her pink muscle swirls inside of your mouth and your arms wrap around her neck, yanking her into you so no space is left. Her hands are everywhere; tangled in your hair, grabbing at your hips, your ass, your thighs. Everywhere everywhere everywhere like she can’t get enough of you. You’re overwhelmed and high out of your mind but you follow her guide. Anywhere she wants you, you are. 

Maybe you’re just as bad as she is. After everything she’s done, you should hate her. You think you do. You hate her for leaving you. You hate her for embarrassing you. Abandonment. Her only gift to you. Maybe that’s why you kiss her with such conviction. 

Her touch is passionate; strong but not forceful. She breathes you in like a rarity, something she treasures, all while she licks and tugs at you like a slut. There’s a pulse deep within you when her lips enclose around your tongue to suck it. Your thighs squeeze and she grins madly, giving you one last innocent peck before she grabs your hand to spin you. You laugh and twirl with her. 

You understand why people fall in love so fast. You hate that you’re one of them. 

Or are you simply as delusional as they come? 

You’re even more enthralling when free of restraint. 

Ellie’s drunk and sweaty and exhausted but she uses every last bit of strength to stare at you. She sits at the bar as the crowd dwindles, artist after artist, established or aspiring, all go on to perform, and you haven’t taken a break once. You simply twirl and spin and mouth incorrect lyrics with the widest smile on your face, all while Ellie brings you her drinks to finish. 

You’ve been here for hours it seems, but Ellie can’t drive. But the night is young. You certainly don’t look ready to go home. 

What more can she show you?

“Thank you all for comin’ out! Tonight was a dream—“

You’re a dream, Her chest screams. You you you you fuck—

You clap like the happiest seal on the planet before spinning around to face Ellie. It happens in flashes: you come closer and closer until you’re in front of her, warm hands on her cheeks, ears tingling when you whisper, 

“I didn’t get to meet your sluts.” 

You sound upset about it. Ellie stumbles about how they didn’t come, how they’re not here. How she doesn’t wanna see them right now and she means it all, but you don’t believe her, and her chest hurts. Guilty guilty guilty. 

“Get up.” You step away and Ellie pains to pull you back, savor the night a second longer. But she signs the receipt before following you towards the exit. The cold air feels so good. She needs water now. 

She gives you a little yank when you start wandering the opposing direction, “Come… come here. This way.” 

You grin and slur, “Where to?” 

Ellie’s brows wiggle playfully, “Gas station. You hungry?”

“…Yes.”

Ellie extends her hand for you to hold, and surprisingly, you accept. Her heart jolts to life. 

The walk is quiet. Your eyes are glued to the sky, wide and innocent; the large moon entrances you, surrounded by glittery stars. You both wobble down the sidewalk, trying to avoid bumping into pedestrians and other drunkards. She thought the rowdiness of nightlife would frighten you, but you seem drawn to the chaos.  

Soon enough, you’re both surrounded by aisles filled with chips and sodas and a fuck ton of candy. Ellie cringes at the fond stares she gives you holding 4 packs of watermelon sour patches. You’re cute as hell right now. Have you never been to a convenience store? What the fuck. 

“El! El, what the fuck! Where ya been!” 

Her sluggish brain is trying — really trying to figure out who the hell just left the staff room and is walking towards the two of you. It’s someone that knows her name or whatever shortened version they’ve created and the closer this person gets the more you shield yourself behind her fuck fuck fuck

Arms latch around her neck in a strong hug. Muscular, nice voice, smells like cherries. 

Abigail Anderson. Shoulda known. Great. 

“Jesus fuck, you smell like my dad’s liquor cabinet! We fucking missed you! We haven’t seen you in…” 

When Abby pulls back, her eyes immediately find you. Ellie steals a glance; eyes wide, soft with curiosity. They darken slightly when they lock onto Abby’s shoulders, all the way down to her arms and Ellie… why the fuck does that annoy her? 

“Who’s that,” Abby whispers suggestively and Ellie sighs. Scratches at her eye in irritation. 

“I’m her wife.” You say causally, and it shocks both of them. Abby moreso. Did Ellie never tell her? She’s sure she did. Everyone knows she’s married… right?

“Wh— wife?” Her eyes shift onto Ellie, “Bitch, you got married? What the fuc— when—“

“3 months ago.” You answer.

“Fucking — holy shit. Congrats? Uhh… sorry! Nice to meet you! You’re gorgeous, by the way,” She stutters to shake your hand, but you accept it, “I’m Abby!” 

“Hi.” You smile in delight and your shoulders relax. Abby smiles just as gently and Ellie thinks it’s time to go because you’re both getting on her nerves. 

“Alright, well, we're gonna pay, so… yeah. I’ll text you tomorrow or something. We’re tired.” 

“Mhmm,” Abby hums cockily, eyes glued to the mess Ellie made of your neck, “Looks like y’all had a great time.” 

“We did,” She confirms with pointed eyes, “See ya.” 

“Byeee.” Abby sing-songs with a chuckle before Ellie leads you towards the service counter to dump your snacks. Ellie gives the cashier a familiar nod. 

“Is she who you fuck?” 

Ellie chokes on her water and the cashier gawks at you from behind their reading glasses. You couldn’t have been any fucking louder in that moment, what the fuck.

“What—“

“Do you fuck Abby? I hope not in that bathroom,” You clumsily point to the gender neutral sign near the entrance. “I heard they’re filthy—“

Ellie whispers even though there’s no point, “Dude, are you fucking crazy—“

“… It's just a question—“

“Have a nice night.” 

The cashier rigidly hands Ellie the stuffed baggie and receipt. She snatches them before snatching you to leave. She drops your hand the second briskness surrounds you, “The fuck was that about?” Her chips are calling her. She needs a stress reliever. 

“What—“

She squeezes the bag and the pop rings like a gunshot, “Why the fuck are you asking if I fucked Abby? What the fuck—“

“She’s hot and you kinda are… to a certain degree, I guess. I just assumed.” 

Ellie’s appalled, but doesn’t have the energy to look offended. “Stop assuming, it’s… that’s fucking weird—“

You simply shove tiny watermelon slices in your mouth and steal her water to chug it. She watches you impatiently before you hand the crumpled, half-empty plastic back to her. She downs the rest and discards it some-fucking-where. 

Her thoughts are clouded. Did she fuck Abby? Are you forreal—

“I don’t care, you know.”

“About what?” 

You shrug, “If you fuck her.” 

“Please be quiet.”

“Okay.” 

You both do for a while, dead grass and Dorritos crunching around you. 

Until Ellie speaks again. 

“You’re quiet.” 

“Mhm.”

“Sleepy?”

“Nmhm.” 

Wide awake, actually. The world passes you by with each step the two of you take, swirling with bright lights and laughter. You follow Ellie closely, handfuls of candy shoved in your mouth while she munches on her chips. You never had those orange triangles before. Neither of you are in a rush to make it back to the car. Can Ellie drive in this state?

“Do you, uh, like places like that? Concerts?” 

“Yes.” You break out in a grin. 

“What else do you like?” 

“I dunno. I haven’t… experienced much.” You shrug, accidentally brushing against your wife’s shoulder. Electricity sparks near the end of your spine where a steadying hand rests. “Your friend… does she go with you? To concerts?” 

“Who?”

“Aaabby.” You tease, mocking the blonde girl from earlier, and Ellie’s expressions flattens. She's unsure why. 

“Oh, uh… yeah,” Her chip bag is suddenly very interesting. “Sometimes. I met her at one a few years back after a showcase I hosted.” 

“I like her.” She’s nice and smells nicer. You regret not shaking her seemingly strong hand a few seconds longer. Strong all over, actually. 

“… Uh huh.” 

Your brow arches at that, “Does that bother you?” 

“Why the fuck would it bother me? You can like whoever.”  

“Exactly how you like whoever, huh?” You sneer lazily, and Ellie goes stoic. And just like that, the conversation dies once more. You’re glad for it; selfishly, you’d rather refrain from telling your wife about how attractive you found her friend. She’s left you guessing under too many circumstances. Consider this a sliver of revenge. 

You both make it back to the parking lot in silence, minus Ellie’s agitated crunching. You lean against the passenger door while you watch her dig around for the keys. 

“Where to?” 

“It's almost 4 in the morning.” She hisses. 

“So?” You came home later than that for weeks. You wanna say it. You should say it. Grind your thumb deeper into that open wound, but you save it. Another day, maybe. Maybe not. 

“So we’re going home. I’m tired.” 

“Well, I’m not.” 

“Okay? Whatever, I’ll drop you off somewhere.” 

“You wouldn’t leave your poor, defenseless wife unattended, would you?” You whisper slowly, and Ellie tenses when you plant a soft hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t acknowledge you, just stares through the window behind you. You scoff and drop it by your side. Cross your arms stubbornly. 

“You’re mad because I like Abby.”

“There’s nothing for you to like! You just met her.” Her voice raises, and annoyance flares in you. 

“Exactly! I just met her, and I like her! The fuck did you think I was gonna do? Flash her right in front of the gummy worms?” 

“I don’t know! Fucking maybe!”

“So you can fuck other people but I can’t?” 

Ellie’s very close to you suddenly. Your heart jumps, “Oh, now you wanna fuck Abby? She’s the first person you’ve interacted with besides me since we got fucking married!” 

“SO?” You holler. 

“SO YOU’RE NOT FUCKING MY FRIEND! ARE YOU INSANE!” Speckles of spit land on your face and it sizzles into your pores. You might be. You fucking are. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Ellie’s forcing herself into your space, so why do you fight? Why are you hungry? 

Your palms crash into her chest and she nearly loses her balance, “I DON’T NEED PERMISSION FROM YOU! WE’LL FINALLY BE EVEN, YOU FUCKING WHORE!” 

“Yeah? Think Imma fucking whore?” Her grin is sinister, and excitement coils in your belly. Gets your fingers twitching from how hard they’re clenched. 

“Maybe I do.” Vehemence scathed your tongue. 

“You know what I think?” 

“I don’t care—“

“I think you do.” She mumbles against your cheek, “I think you’re jealous.” 

You still. Ellie’s eyes pierce through yours, burning and hot, nostrils flared: she looks like she could snap you in half. Your spine tingles with delirium. 

“You’re mad because I get to be. I can exist and fuck and party and come and go as I please and you hate it. You wish you could do what I do.” She stares like you killed her mother yourself. Strangled her with your bare hands. “I don’t have mommy and daddy breathing down my neck every 2 seconds. You want that so bad it makes you sick.” 

“So why stay?” 

It shocks her. You don’t waver; passive as usual. 

“You’re free and can do whatever you want, right? Why are you here? Go and be that. Be whoever you wanna be because you can.”

Everything will be over soon. Might as well. Ellie simply glares through you. 

Curiosity is your worst enemy. Might as well ask. 

“Why’d you defend me at dinner?” 

What does she know what does she know what does she know what

She rubs her eyes stubbornly, “Oh my fucking god, who gives a fuck!” 

“Me! I give a fuck! Why’d you do it! Why! You’ve never done it before!” 

She knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows

“BECAUSE FUCK HIM! FUCK EVERYBODY THAT DID THIS TO US! FUCK YOU, TOO!” 

You might cry, you might not. You’re unsure of everything and you’re angry and hurting. Ellie’s a reflection of you, and vise-versa. You hate her hate her hate her. 

Hatred. It might be the reason why kissing her feels so good. Because it shouldn’t be happening. Ellie shouldn’t have you trapped between her and her car, grinding so harshly into you that your spine bends. You shouldn’t tug at her hair to expose her neck to lick and suck and bite her neck red while she curses in your ear. 

This is the distraction you’ve been desperately searching for. To think you’d find it in your wife after all this time. 

“I’d be a whore for you,” She shamelessly seers against your throat, hands wandering to unbutton her own pants, “You know that, right?” 

… That’s cute. Makes you blush. 

“Yeah?” Her laugh is thick like syrup, “Gets you hot? Knowing how easily I’d give it up for you?” 

That sideways grin makes you tick. Your hand closes tight around her throat and she nearly bloodies her bottom lip with her fangs. Your wife looks pathetic; thumbs hooked into her pants, so ready to drop them for you in the middle of the parking lot. People are wandering about; she’s willing to fuck in front of them? 

How pretty would she look trying to be quiet for you? Nervous eyes searching for privacy, praying no one walks by and sees her on the edge with your hand down her underwear. Hopefully no one recognizes her, pulls out their phone, records the two of you. Blasts you both on social media while Ellie moans in your mouth. What would people think? Your families? How ashamed would they be? Their two girls making a mess of themselves in public. 

The thought makes you smile. Scares you. Makes you choke her harder. Her pained whine vibrates in your palm. 

“Get the fuck in the car.” 

The windows fog with the heat of your bodies; her body trapped beneath yours in the back seat that’s roomier than you anticipated. She rolls your hips on top of her, desperate and eager to rip your fucking clothes off and feel you for real. Your dress rests around your hips, your panties on display and she wishes she could see them. She only has her hands for reference, tracing over each thin seam littered with lace and patterns she tries to memorize. Your tongue belongs in her mouth. You feel so fucking good; you’re not close enough. She needs you closer. 

Her mouth chases yours when you finally separate, only connected by a thin string of saliva, but a stern hand collides with her chest to keep her flat. Her hands tickle your waist. Rests your dress even higher until she can see your belly button. 

“Wanna know a secret?” You whisper down at her, and she smirks. 

“I know you’re a virgin, baby.” She whispers giddily, and your teeth grit. A flame coils in your chest. You ignore her.

“You could’ve had me after our wedding, you know? With my face buried in the pillows and my ass in your face. I would’ve let you do whatever you wanted that night.” 

Your sudden vulgarity stuns her silent. Your wife looks like she’s imagining it; lip bruised from both your and her teeth, mind racing with filth of you in every position she can think of. She wouldn’t have been able to separate from you if that was the case. It’s one of the reasons she kept her distance; those pretty brown eyes rolled back would’ve put her underground. She’d never tell you that. 

“But no,” You say like it aches, “You wanted to go and bend over all those girls that follow you around like fucking dogs. You wanted a bitch, not a wife. Right or wrong?” 

She can barely breathe and your hand pressing on her chest isn’t helping; reduces her to sharp gasps that make her lightheaded. The more ragged they become, the harder you press. Your brow arches when she innocently bares her teeth. 

Her palms squeeze at your ass, “I thought about you the entire time—“

Your hand cracks and her head flies to the side. Right on her left cheek is the already reddening imprint of your hand. The crackles in your palm are numbed by the alcohol and your core burns at the shock on her face. She gawks off to the side, that meddling smile dropped completely, chest ragged with her breaths. 

“Ellie, put your hands down.” You spit, and they drop from you completely, palms flat on the seat beneath her. 

“You had every chance to do right by me and you wasted every single one.” You sound like you’re about to cry; Ellie’s too scared to look at you. Not the good scared that she’s felt around you this entire time, but a hollow scared. The one that freezes you. Her fight or flight is triggered. 

“I think you owe me an apology.” You whisper against her burning face before you kiss it gently. A pained groan escapes her, and you laugh. Loud, in her face. Even louder when she tries to grind her hips up into you. 

“Take us home, wife.” 

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi, I just found your blog, and I love your Simon's fics! I was wondering if i could please request something where Reader and Simon had broken up bc he thought he put her in danger. After a few months, he comes to her after a mission and they spend the night but he leaves before she wakes up thinking hes doing whats best (and all that angsty jazz 🥲🤭) . A few weeks after she finds out shes pregnant and decides to take on her own, as reader thinks simon wouldnt care. But maybe one of the guys see her heavy preggo and tell simon, and hes fuming and super protective mode is on.

Sorry if it is too specific and for the terrible english. I just have this idea, and i dont think i can picture it right. Anyway, thanks for reading this and for your good work on your fics 💗 hope you have a lovely day

—Digging Gaze

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

You knew it was the effects of a less-than-gentle breakup, but you should have at least cursed him out before you let him have his way with you on the living room couch. You’d woken up back in bed, alone, and had gotten dropped back to where you had been weeks earlier—stuck in the throws of confusion and hurt. 

Simon had left you, and he never gave you a reason. 

A part of you was heated; pissed off and feeling betrayed by the insult, yet, the rest of you knew that Simon needed to have his reasons—he always did. Even if you didn’t agree with them, and you knew he tended to look at life with a glass-half-empty type of glance. 

So that left you here. 

You were pregnant. 

You’d found out two weeks after you’d slept together for that last time, your cheeks still hot from the memory and your fingers clutching the plastic of a test. 

Pregnant.

It had been a shock, a deep panic. The both of you had been reckless. Stupid. And while you had stared at those two pink lines, you felt a sinking in your gut akin to a drowning ship. Should you tell him? It would be proper, of course. 

But you don’t think you can face him again after you’d awaken to an empty bed—as if your entire relationship had only been about sex and not the deep nights of confessions and soft brushes of skin. You knew Simon Riley better than he probably knew himself.

And you wouldn’t put this on him.

At seven months, you couldn’t walk as much as you could before—and you would huff for breath as you went up the stairs to change the sheets—but who else could do it but you? Shopping also fell to you, and so, you pushed a large cart around and packed the metal basket with cravings and necessities. That was when you fell to a familiar face. 

“Johnny?” You ask, blinking. 

The Scot pauses, turning. His brows furrowed for a moment before a kind smile peeled his lips back.

“Hen!” He comes closer, laughing. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a good minute, then. What have you been up to in all—” 

The man freezes at the sight of your stomach, jaw going slack as you fight an internal war with yourself to say pleasantries and leave. 

“Hell,” Johnny clears his throat. “I guess you’ve been doin’ a great deal.” 

You sigh, shaking your head softly. “Thanks, Johnny.”

“I’m just joking, Little Lady.” The man laughs and waves a hand. “Who’s the lucky man then? I’ll have to meet him one of these days.”

Your face blanks and your lips snap shut in an instant. 

Blue eyes wait for an answer as the silence laps over itself. Slowly but surely, the realization dawns on his face in a tight pull of horror.

“You can’t tell him,” you interrupt his tight gasp. “Not a peep, MacTavish, you hear?”

“What the fuck,” he breathes at you, hand coming up to his mouth as he glances down at your swelling bump. “Holy hell.”

“Johnny,” you snap, his eyes jerk back to you. 

“It’s bloody Ghost’s—”

“You can’t,” you growl, coming closer, “tell him.”

“What do you mean I can’t tell him,” Johnny hisses under his breath, looking at the people passing by and lowering his tone. “You’re pregnant and he doesn’t know!”

“That’s the point,” you ease out, exasperated and feeling drained already. Jesus, you needed to go lay down—your back was killing you. “Johnny,” you breathe, growing softer as you reach out a hand and put it to his arm. He grips it and holds on, looking incredibly concerned. “He doesn’t need to know, okay? That’s a lot of stress on him, and you know what he does for work. Even worrying about me was hard on him, what do you think a child would do?”

“You can’t think like that,” the Scot mutters. “He can help—what, you mean to tell me you plan to do this by yourself?” It isn’t malicious how he says it; Johnny’s worried about you. Incredibly. “Hen, no,” he shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”

“I can, Johnny,” you frown, dread filling your heart. “And I will.”

In the future, you really had to take into account Johnny’s flapping lips when under the spell of alcohol. Maybe you had enough faith in him to watch himself for the last little while of your pregnancy as he had into the latter half of the eighth month.

And then three firm knocks were at your door, and when you opened it, you were face to face with a painted balaclava and frazzled brown eyes.

Those eyes immediately snap down, and not even a word is uttered to your face until then.

The both of you are stone-still. Frozen. Dead to all else. 

You swear it was hours of this—standing in the doorway with Simon’s fingers stiff in his pockets and his chest not even moving in a pulse or flare of his lungs. He doesn’t even blink. 

“How far along?” His voice is monotone. A low drone in the ringing of your ears.

Damn that Scot.

“Eight and a half,” you say quietly. 

Brown eyes shift up to yours. Simon stares, and you see his jaw clench under his balaclava, his shoulders moving. Again a long pause. 

“When’s the next appointment—”

“It’s a girl.” You see his eyelids peel back and halt there, watching you. “In case you care to stick around and see her.”

Cruel perhaps, but it was nothing short of how he acted while leaving you. 

Simon’s hidden face is slack, stuttering silently for a moment as the light fades outside.

“Didn’t…didn’t know,” he grunts out, blinking quickly.

“I know you didn’t,” you utter. “That was the point, Simon.”

“Johnny told me ‘bout it, didn’t believe him.” His brown eyes swirl, breaking. “Thought you’d mention it if you were.” 

“You left,” you breathe. “Why would I reach out to someone that did that to me.”

“M’sorry, I-I don’t…” Simon clears his throat, looking away. His eyes are glossy, fingers moving out of his pockets so his twitching hands can splay out. “Could have explained, but I didn’t know how, Love. I’m not…this isn’t…”

Words fail him just like his ability to explain his emotions. Part of him was angry—angry that you’d gone all this time without reaching out when he could have helped.

A daughter. 

But he was afraid, as well. Terrified. You were in the right and he knew it. Simon didn’t know the first thing about being a father…but then again, you didn’t know how to be a mother, either. 

This was new territory.

“Marry me,” Simon pushes out with a quick force of breath. 

“Wh—,” you choke on air. “What?”

“Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Gloved hands move at his sides, eyes honest but still shiny. “Wasn’t thinking—my fault and I can’t go on if I don’t know you’re safe.” He licks at the corner of his mouth. “...Both of you. Thought leaving would make the best sense, but I was…fucking hell. M’sorry.”

“Simon, there are many more ways other than marriage.” Your anger wasn’t something that could be washed away that easily, even if your heart fluttered at the idea and his apology.

You had more self-respect than that.

“Let me fix this,” he whispers, leaning closer. 

Your hand rests over your stomach, staying there as the minutes draw. Simon waits, nervous and his fingers tap on his thigh. You know he’s afraid. You know he’s nervous about what he could bring home from work, even if those are only his paranoia talking in his ear like a demon. 

You frown. 

You huff.

And you open the door wider.

“The sheets need changing in my room. Get on it.”

The man says nothing before he enters the house and slips off his boots; disappearing into the linen closet.

[syluslnd]

I know a lot of people are iffy about this so feel free to delete this, but how would Sylus react to you accidentally calling him daddy in bed? (I think the devs might've posted something about him pefering to br called master??)

calling sylus daddy

• imagine

(note / i dont have a daddy kink so ive never even read or researched on it lol jdjdjdj so idk if i wrote this with what you had in mind,i hope you like it 😪🙂‍↕️)

Sylus had always known how to push your buttons. He loved watching your cheeks flush, your eyes widen with that shy, innocent look you tried so hard to hide from him. But you could never hide from Sylus. He made sure of that.

Tonight was no different. You were pinned beneath him, your wrists trapped above your head as he held you in place, his dark eyes focused on your face. His lips curled into that familiar teasing smirk, the one that made your stomach flutter.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and filled with amusement. "Trying so hard to keep that pretty little blush from me." He leaned down, his nose brushing against your neck, making you squirm beneath him. "But you know I'm not going to let you hide, right?"

Your heart raced as you tried to look away but Sylus was quick. He caught your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"No no, sweetie," he said softly, his tone dripping with that teasing edge. "Eyes on me. I want to see every little reaction."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the heat rising to your face. Sylus always knew how to make you flustered and the more he teased, the harder it became to keep your composure.

It wasn't supposed to happen, but in the heat of the moment, the word slipped from your lips before you even realized it.

"Daddy..."

The room went silent. Your eyes widened in horror and your heart dropped as you processed what you'd just said. You could feel your entire body heat up in embarrassment. That was not something you ever meant to say.

"Oh?" Sylus's voice broke the silence, his tone laced with amusement, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to keep you still. "What was that, kitten?"

You shook your head quickly, mortified, trying to backtrack. "I-I didn't mean to-! I don't know why I said that—"

But Sylus wasn't letting you off that easily.

He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with that dangerous playfulness that sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I think you meant it." His thumb brushed over your lips, silencing your stammered apologies. "Now, why would my sweet, innocent kitten call me that, hmm?"

Your face burned with humiliation. You tried to turn away, to hide, but Sylus was quick to pin you back down, leaning in close enough that his breath ghosted across your skin.

"You can't hide now, sweetie," he teased, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not after that."

"Please” you whispered, utterly embarrassed, trying to turn your head to escape his piercing gaze, but his grip on your chin tightened, keeping your face locked in place. His other hand still firmly held your wrists above your head. You were completely at his mercy.

"Don't be shy now" he purred, his tone dripping with amusement. "I think it's cute, you calling me daddy like that." His lips grazed your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as his voice softened, taunting.

"Is that what you've wanted all along, kitten?

For me to take care of you like that?"

Your face was on fire now, the embarrassment overwhelming as he teased you relentlessly. "N-no, I didn't mean it like that-" you tried to explain, but Sylus cut you off with a dark chuckle.

"Didn't mean it? Oh, I think you did." His voice was lower now, filled with that teasing menace that always left you flustered. "Look at you, all shy and blushing. My sweet, innocent kitten isn't so innocent after all, huh?"

You squirmed beneath him, but his weight pinned you down effortlessly. Sylus wasn't letting you go anywhere—not until he was done teasing you.

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours. "Say it again" he commanded softly, his eyes locked on yours, filled with that wicked amusement. "Go on, sweetie. I want to hear it."

Your eyes widened in panic and you shook your head quickly. "I-I can't-"

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening.

"Can't? You didn't seem to have any trouble saying it a minute ago." His fingers traced the line of your jaw, sending another wave of shivers through you. "But if you're too shy to say it again, I can always remind you who’s in control here."

Sylus pressed his body closer, his lips brushing against your ear once more, his breath hot against your skin. "say it,don’t make me force you, kitten."

“D-daddy..” You gasped, the sound catching in your throat as your body betrayed you, your face burning hotter than ever. Sylus pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"See? Wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice a low purr. "You're too cute when you're embarrassed. Makes me want to keep you pinned down here all night just to watch you blush."

You couldn't even respond, too flustered to form words as he leaned down to press a teasing kiss to your lips, savoring the way your body trembled beneath him. He had you exactly where he wanted you, and he wasn't about to let you forget it.

[hoshifighting]

I was reading your leaving after a fight reaction and o got an idea could you please do one where reader leaves and goes to a bar and gets drunk they get a call from the bar and it’s just fluff

seventeen reacting to you getting drunk after a fight WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and arguments, & fluff too.

seungcheol grabs his keys, his mind racing. he can’t let you drown in this. when he arrives at the bar, he spots you immediately. you’re laughing with a group, a glass in hand. “hey!” he snaps, but the bark in his tone quickly fades as you turn to him “what the hell are you doing? this isn’t fun. you need to come home.” he tries to keep his voice steady, but the concern leaks through. “why? so we can fight more?” you roll your eyes, but u look vulnerable still. “you think you’re perfect? you’re not!” “i never said that. im just taking care of you” he bites. your eyes soften, and relief washes over him as you touch his arm, guiding him toward the door.

jeonghan's phone buzzes, cutting through his thoughts. it’s the bar, and his stomach drops. “on my way,” he snaps, not bothering to hide the urgency in his voice. when he arrives you turn, a grin spreading across your face that makes his heart ache. “jeonghan! come join the party!” “this isn’t a party! you need to come home y/n.” he reaches for the glass in your hand, gently prying it away. “let’s go home and talk this out. please babygirl” you hesitate, the fire in your eyes dimming as you look at him, the fight leaving your body.

joshua dont hop into the car, he throws himself in!!! he asks the bar number if you're doing okay as he drives. “there you are,” he says, pushing through the crowd. you know joshua cares too much. he’s sweet like that, always wanting to shield you from everything, even yourself. you look down at the bar top, the wood grain swirling under your fingertips. “i just... needed a break.” “from me?” he asks, sadly. you bite your lip. joshua’s expression softens, and he reaches out, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “can we just talk about it? please?” u glance up, meeting his gaze, and it feels like home. “fine. but only if u promise to stop being so fucking cute when we fight.” he chuckles, relief flooding his features. “no promises, babe.”

junhui “where are you?” he texts after the call, worry oozing through the words. “out,” you reply tersely, taking another drink. “the bar? seriously?” “what if i am?” you shoot back, but inside, you know you’re pushing him away. “stay there. i’ll be there soon.” “don’t bother,” you type, but your heart sinks at the thought of him not showing up. a short while later, the door swings open, and there he is—his hair a little messy, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. he strides over, concern etched into his features. “what are you doing?” he asks, taking the seat next to you. “just enjoying my night,” you reply, a little too defensively. he raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “by drinking alone?” “i’m not alone; i have my drink,” you mutter, taking a long sip as if it could drown your frustration. he leans closer, his voice dropping to a gentle tone. “you know that’s not what i meant. you’re not okay. let me take care of you baby? hm?” you nod, feeling the walls you built starting to crumble. “fine, but if you keep looking at me like that, i might just forgive you too easily.”

hoshi wrinkled his nose the moment he smelled the strong drink you were drinking, he was clearly sweating like he was running a marathon to get to where you were. “you’re mad at me, but this isn’t how we solve things... you know you can tell me anything, right? even if it’s hard?” you take a deep breath, feeling the tension in your chest begin to ease. “i just hate fighting with you. it feels like we’re always stuck in this cycle.” “i hate it too,” he admits, reaching for your hand. “but running away doesn’t fix it. let’s talk.” “talk? like, actually talk?” you tease, a small smile creeping onto your face. “yeah, that thing where we don’t just yell at each other,” he says, grinning back. “i’m pretty good at it.” you can’t help but laugh, the sound lightening the mood.

wonwoo slides the helmet, and hops on his motorcycle, a few moments later, the door swings open, and there he is—hands in his pockets, that serious yet soft expression making your heart ache. he spots you and makes his way over, concern etched in his features. “you’re really here,” he says, his voice low. “didn’t think you’d come,” you reply, trying to sound indifferent, but you're soft. “and leave you alone like this? not a chance.” he sits beside you, his presence instantly calming. you glance at him, catching the way his brows furrow slightly. he squeezes your hand and kisses your neck softly “let's go home, hm? i'll give u a nice warm bath and we'll talk before going to bed, is that okay, sweetie?”

woozi strides over the bar, hair messy, body stiff, eyes worried, after the call, and you can see the scolding ready to spill from his lips. “i can’t believe you left without telling me. i was worried sick. you really just left? you could’ve told me!” “ listen jihoon, i didn’t want to fight anymore. it was too much.” he flinches, he didn't mean to snap at you, but he was really worried. “i get it,” he replies quietly, his voice gentler now. “but you know you can tell me when it gets too heavy, right?” you take a deep breath, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. “what do u say we talk about it over ice cream? my treat,” he suggests, a playful grin breaking through. “ice cream sounds perfect,” you reply, matching his smile. “you always know how to fix things.” “it’s a talent,” he jokes, and you can’t help but laugh, the heaviness of earlier fading into something sweet.

minghao asks the bartended to pass the phone to you, “i’m coming to get you,” minghao’s voice is steady, cutting through your haze. “you shouldn’t be there.” “i’m fine,” you snap, but even you can hear the slight slur in your words. he knows you better than that. “you’re not,” he replies. when minghao finally walks in, the door swings open, and the bell jingles, like a damn superhero coming to save the day. “hey,” he says softly, the frown on his face deepening as he takes in your state. “you look… rough.” “yeah, well, thanks for the observation,” you retort, but there’s no real bite in your words. he steps closer, the scent of him wrapping around you like a familiar hug. “i didn’t ask you to come.” “no, but you need me,” he counters, taking your hand, grounding you. his touch makes your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but lean into him, feeling the fight inside you melt away. “let’s talk, okay? i love you and I hate fighting with you.” you melt, and minghao smiles small.

mingyu in quesiton of minutes was there, tall and worried searching for you on the bar, the call made him stumble on his feet on his way there. “you really shouldn’t be here,” you murmur, but your heart races as he approaches, the worry etched on his face only making you want to lean into him. “and you shouldn’t be here alone. we both know you’ll feel worse if you stay out like this. just let me take care of you.” the softness in his tone makes your heart twist. “you don’t have to play the hero.” “but i want to,” he insists, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. the warmth of his grip pulls you back from the edge of your frustration, reminding you of everything you love about him. “please?” you take a deep breath, the tension in your shoulders easing as you look into his eyes. “fine. let’s go home.” “thank you,” he whispers, pulling you into a hug that feels like coming home, before arriving in.

seokmin not even five minutes later appears on the bar, seokmin steps inside, scanning the crowd until his eyes land on you. relief floods his expression, and he rushes over, pulling you into his arms before you can say a word. “what the hell, you scared me,” he murmurs, hugging your back tightly. his warmth seeps into you, and you can’t help but melt a little. “you’re drunk.” his concern wraps around you like a blanket, and suddenly, the anger feels distant. “let’s get you out of here,” he whispers, still holding you close. “i don’t want you to feel like this.” “it’s just… everything’s a mess,” you admit, your voice cracking a bit. “we were fighting and—” “i know,” he interrupts softly, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “but we can talk about it later. right now, i just want to make sure you’re okay.” the sincerity in his gaze makes you want to cry, and you nod slowly. “okay.” he smiles gently, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “let’s go home, yeah?”

seungkwan the minutes tick by slowly, and every time the door swings open, your heart skips a beat. finally, you spot him striding in, “it’s… it’s not safe for you to be out like this,” he says. you pout. “i can take care of myself.” “you’re making this harder than it has to be,” he grumbles. as you slide off the bar stool, he’s already there, an arm around your waist, guiding you out. you laugh, the sound a bit shaky. “u should try being less of a pain in the ass, kwanniee” you tease, but it’s soft, a flicker of something sweet cutting through the tension. he smirks, finally breaking into a grin. “noted. now, let’s get you home before you say something else you’ll regret.”

vernon would keep his emotions bottled up, when he's almost purple in worry, would run to the bar fast, breathing properly only when he finally sees you. “i don’t need you to babysit me,” you sulk when you feel him taking you from the bar stool, “just… please? for once, let me be the responsible one,” he replies squeezing your waist. “oh, shut up,” you say, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “i was just having a good time.” “more like trying to forget about our fight,” he counters, crossing his arms, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “let’s get you home before you embarrass yourself further.”

chan before the bartender ended the call, was already on the way. the moment he reaches you, he slips an arm around your shoulder, guiding you away from the noise. “you okay?” he asks, searching your face with those steady eyes. you can see the maturity in his expression, the way he balances concern in his heart with the logic, “i will be,” you say, though you know it’s not entirely trrue. his presence calms the storm brewing inside you, and u lean into him. “you’re allowed to feel things,” he expresses, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “but next time, can we talk instead of shouting? i’d rather understand what you’re going through.” you nod, the way he watches over you even after an imense fight. “yeah, that sounds good babe...” he smiles with the full of love name.

[m00nchildwrites]

Forever, You and Me: Rafayel x MC/Reader Smut

This is a one shot, smut drabble inspired by @jinwoosbabyboo 's answer post describing how the LADS men would react to you storming of and not responding to theirs calls and texts after a bad fight. Her writing is flipping amazing. ISTF I devour everything she writes. 

I was��intending to just repost her post with a little response of how I think Rafayel would cope with such an event, and it just... took off and swept me anyway, and well... apparently it's angsty feels and thirsty hours and I blame @jinwoosbabyboo completely for this because her writing always getting my imagination going! So responding to her with my extra thoughts about Rafayel became a one shot, smutty drabble spilled out.  

So here is her post that inspired the one-shot below, so you can read the Rafayel part that got this whole thing going and also, please go read her sections about Xavier, Zayne, and Sylus because you will be missing out if you don't. Seriously, go now.: https://www.tumblr.com/jinwoosbabyboo/763177878569549824/dont-run-off-like-that?source=share 

18+. MDNI! 

TW: angst, cursing, self-depreciation, depression, mention of death or wanting to die, ya boy gets dark and big big sad, hurt/comfort, they def kiss and make up, SMUT, what is foreplay? They just want to bone, couple's first time together, detailed sex depicted, fucking, use of the word fuck a lot, dirty talk, usage of "babygirl", possessive Rafayel (in bed), unprotected sex, mating press, squirting, overstimulation, cum, my own Lemurian bond headcanon, Rafayel has a filthy mouth and MC loves it, cum/breeding kink if you squint. 

*clears throat* 

Enjoy. 

~~~~~~ 

Forever, You and Me 

[ @jinwoosbabyboo prompt: 

You told the LADS Men to not piss you off and what did they do? Pissed you off. How I imagine they would react to you storming off in tears and you're not answering their calls or texts.] 

The moment you spun on your heel and fled his home Rafayel was after you. The angry and uncharacteristic yell of frustration you had given out before doing so, after he failed to back off during your disagreement, turned argument, turned first real fight made his stomach drop and curl in the worst way. Your voice played in his head as he ran out his door and down to the street in front of his house after you. 

Stop! Just... please stop a moment. I hate that we are yelling. This isn't us. This isn't you. This isn't me. Just- Give me a second to breathe for fuck's sake, Rafayel, please! 

His words rang in his head too.  

If you don't want to hear the sound of my voice anymore, if you don't want to be with me anymore, then why don't you just leave. You always end up leaving anyway. 

He never expected you to actually do it. But he had watched as your eyes widened in shock and hurt, and then narrowed. Then you were gone. 

He ran, flinging open the metal gate and stepping onto the sidewalk, eyes desperate, searching for your retreating figure. He had to find you. Apologize. He knew he could be intense sometimes, dramatic occasionally, and that he could push your buttons just to see if you'd leave him. Leave him like the you of your past life had done. Like you had always done. 

But he was a fool. 

That you wasn't this you. That you was dead and gone. And you, you were the same but so different. You were everything and he had gone and fucked it up. Again. 

His head whipped around frantic. Spirits of his ancestors, did you sprint!?!  The pit in his gut swelled and grew. He couldn't see you anywhere. He yanked out his phone dialing your number as he started jogging off down the sidewalk. You couldn't have gotten far. Right? 

The call went to voicemail. He stopped staring blankly at it. You didn't answer. Maybe... Maybe you couldn't get it in time, yeah. That was it. He breaks out into a jog again, and again rings your number. He would find you. Maybe you were at the bus stop? He pushed his legs faster as the voicemail picked up again. 

You weren't at the bus stop. It had just left. Spitting out a stream of curses that made a little old lady whack him with her bag, Rafayel dialed a different number. He pressed the phone to his ear, "Thomas, I need a car.... no, I'm not at home. I am headed to Linkon City. On foot. Thomas, please no more questions, just have the car find me! This is urgent!" 

When the car-Thomas- found him, he was halfway to Linkon, sweating, sticky, gross, and stressed. He sent out a stream of texts asking you where you had gone, why you weren't answering, that he was sorry, begging you to come back, to answer, to curse him, anything. But they all went unanswered. 

As he went to all your known haunts and favorite places, from your work to the grocery store near your place to your apartment where he ran into an unimpressed blonde Hunter partner of yours that looked perpetually in need of a nap and who refused to buzz him into the building, Rafayel's mental and emotional state continued to spiral. His emotions went from apologetic to concern to flat out fear for your safety. Which he had made clear to that blonde partner of yours... he very nearly throttled the ass. Why did he not see how urgent this was? His words had struck Rafayel and made his stomach turn sour. 

"If MC was in danger, I'd be the first to know, after all, I'm her partner." 

His world felt off kilter. Would the blonde be the first to know? Surely not. Surely, it would be him, Rafayel. Your boyfriend of the past few months. You were soulmates. You came together lifetime after lifetime. He always found you. Always could hunt you down. Always. 

Except now. Except this time. Where had you gone? 

If you don't want to hear the sound of my voice anymore, if you don't want to be with me anymore, then why don't you just leave. You always end up leaving anyway. 

You always end up leaving anyway. 

He visibly flinched. He was a fucking idiot. He turned his head to stare blindly out the window, avoiding Thomas' gaze in the rear view mirror. His assistant had given up trying to get answers from him. Instead, he watched in with worry all over his face.  

Rafayel was soaked. It had begun to rain. It was quicky becoming night. He had been calling, texting, and searching for you for hours. He had ran himself to the point of near exhaustion, and nearly gotten the cops called on him at her work when he kept asking Hunter's outside if they had seen you. How embarrassing. For you, not him. He couldn't give a damn as long as he found you, but you... you clearly didn’t want him to find you. 

You were gone. He had told you to leave if you didn't want him and you had gone. 

He felt numb as the car stopped at last in front of his gate. The car hesitated, Thomas no doubt watching him in concern as he drug his feet passed his gate. Rafayel didn't care. He had pushed you away. Lost you. And it was all his fault. And for what? 

The argument had been so stupid. He walked in, not bothering to shut the door. Clothes dripping, leaving pools on the floor as he walked through his home. He passed the dining room that still had your wine glasses and the open bottle and desserts out. He grabbed the open bottle as he moved deeper into the house.  

He kicked off his shoes, leaving a trail headed to his living room. The flowers he had bought you sat on a vase on the coffee table. He stared it down as he plopped, wet, onto his couch. How had such a good night turned so sour? Why did he have to push at your buttons sometimes? Was it just to see? Just to see if you'd leave him? 

You always end up leaving anyway. 

His stomach felt sick. He chugged from the open bottle. Why would he do that? You didn't deserve it. Was he that fucked up from his past that he had to take it out on you? Why couldn't he let go of what had happened in your lives before this one? You were not like him. You didn't remember everything. No wonder you left. 

He tsked, and not for the first time, wondered if your "curse" to not remember your past lives was really a curse at all. After all, if he couldn't remember, then he wouldn't treat you as though you were going to leave at any moment. Because you had never given him any indication that you planned to. 

The past few months of your relationship, that you two were "official", had been perfection. Sure, you had little spat and sometimes would snap at each other, but there had been so much love. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Love. 

He had not even gotten the chance to tell you. 

He had been waiting- waiting for the perfect moment. He was going to tell you tonight. It was why he had gone the extra step to make lunch that much more romantic. It was why a meat and cheese board and fresh fruit were waiting in his fridge for later that night. He hadn't planned on either of you leaving until morning, if then. It was the reason for the flowers before him, the flower petals in the no doubt cold tub upstairs, the petals spread across his bed. Tonight was going to be the night. The one where he told you that you were the love of his life, of all of his lives. He was going to explain what that meant to a Lemurian- how binding and forever that was. And should you accept, he had planned to ask you to- 

He winced, eyes squeezing shut as his chest flared in pain. In protest. His hand not holding the bottle, now empty, clutched at his chest. A hiss of pain. The pain passed. Rafeyel dropped the bottle onto the coffee table before his eyes landed on the vase. He knocked the flowers over, sending the vase off the other side of the coffee table, glass shattering and water spilling with flowers and petals across the floor. 

It didn't matter what he was going to ask you. You were gone. His eyes blurred, hot, as tears formed on his lashes. He pulled his knees up to his chest. His shoulders shook.  

You were gone. 

~~~~~ 

Your feet tripped as you hurried down the sidewalk, dodging puddles as you went. You did not mean for time to get away from you. When you ran out of Rafayel's earlier, you had only meant to get some fresh air for a short while as you calmed down. You both had ended up yelling earlier and it had felt so wrong. Wrong because it wasn't like either of you.  

Yes, you had had disagreements. Rafayel hated when you put yourself in unnecessary danger, though he respected you and your skills at work, even you had to admit that he wasn't wrong when he said you took risks. You didn't mean to. It never was your plan, but something went down and you just sprang into action. He had been right, you had partner's in the association for a reason. But it was the way he had said it today, like you were doing it on purpose just to spite him. As though you enjoyed stressing him and making him worry, it had just set you off. You had told him off, and things had spiraled. 

And for what? He wasn't even wrong. It just rankled your feathers today because of something some dumb Jock head at work had said about women Hunter's needing to be paired with a male Hunter since they were the weaker sex. The dude was written up on the spot; the idiot had said it in front of everyone including your very female boss- moron. But still, you hated being looked down on.  

And so, you had taken out that frustration on Rafayel. On your sweet, silly, bratty, but absolutely adoring Rafayel. You had seen how your words had hurt him. When you had said that you didn't need him or any man worrying or looking after you. You had seen the flinch as though you had slapped him as you flung his worry and concern back into his face as though it revolted you. 

You had hurt him. And then realized that you both were yelling, and it was all just too much. You felt like you couldn't breathe. It hadn't felt like you. Like him. So, when you asked for a moment to allow your mind to settle and clear so you could think rationally and he just kept on, you snapped. He offered you an out, and you took it the offer and walked out. 

You walked out knowing his fear of abandonment. You knew and still walked out without looking back. You walked and walked along the shore. Then it started to rain, and you had to find shelter. And to top it off, you hadn't realized your phone was dead until you were stuck miles down the beach, in the rain, hiding out under a pier, and realized you had to now walk all the way back. Why had you gone to the beach instead of your home? 

You sighed, spotting Rafayel's house in the distance at last. Of course. Of course, you knew why. Because the beach reminded you of your Lemurian, your Rafayel. Even when you were mad at him, you longed for him. Sought out his essence for comfort. Gods, you loved him so much. So much and you never said it out loud yet. You had to tell him. 

You picked up the pace and jogging up to his gate. Nearing his door, you saw it open, but thought nothing of it. Rafayel often left it open for you or from distraction as a bolt of inspiration hit him. The house looked dark from the entryway. You called out his name as you toed off your sandy shoes and socks. 

You gasped as you stepped and nearly slipped in a large, cold puddle. A trail of puddles large and smaller led inside. You tucked a damp strand of hair behind your ear, and cautiously made your way inside. 

"Rafayel? Are you home?" "Rafayel?" "Ugh, why is it so dark in here? Stupid dead phone. I need a light." 

You stumbled into the dining room and followed the wall to the kitchen. You flicked a switch and squinted at the sudden change in brightness. His whole studio was empty and dark. The light from the kitchen spilling out into his painting area across the large room and into the living room area. 

Your eyes squinted, focusing. There was a lump on the couch. "Rafayel?" You near him and see the wine bottle on the coffee table nearby and broken glass and flowers scattered around. You step carefully to not get a shard of glass in your foot as you move around the room to him. 

"Rafayel? I'm sorry it's late. I didn't mean to be gone for so long, but I went further than I meant to and then my phone died..." You trailed off as he came fully into view. He sat on his couch, cheeks wet with tears, clutching his chest. 

You understood all at once why he grabbed that spot, and your heart lurches and drops. You kneeled next to him carefully, "Rafayel?" 

When you call out to him, he let out a choked sob of a tortured laugh.  

You lean, moving to place your face into his line of sight. He sits frozen, staring daze out of open windows. "Rafe?" 

His voice sounded hollow, "Go away." You heart dropped until his voice continues, "You are a specter. MC is gone. She left. Left me." His voice cracked, more tears spill over his lash line to trail down porcelain cheeks. His voice a near whisper, "I've lost you. I love you. I love you more than my homeland, my people. More than my very life. I have loved you through countless lifetimes and will through countless more." He clenched his eyes as he clenched his chest, "I love you enough to let you go if that's what you wish. I'd give it all for you. My last breath. So, please, leave. Don't haunt my mind like you've haunted my heart these last 800 years. You're gone. At last, you've chosen and it isn't me. Leave me to my heartbreak in peace. Leave me to fade into seafoam at last." 

A sob hiccupped past your lips. How could you have hurt him so? This beautiful man with such a beautiful heart and soul. You reached out to brush your fingers across his cheeks, fingers combing into lavender curls as you cup his cheeks, begging, imploring him to see you.  

His eyes shut, agony on his face. 

"I am here, Rafayel. I'm real." 

A choked sob fell from his lips. 

"Look at me." 

A shake of his head. If he does, you'll disappear. Slip through his fingers like mist. He wants to stay in his illusion just a while longer. Hear your voice just a while longer before he has to spend eternity without you, or at least, eternity until he fades away back into sea foam like so many of his people before. 

"Rafayel, my love, please look at me." 

Violet eyes opened, hesitant and sorrowful. 

You smiled, soft, full of love, thumbs wiping stray tears. "I am here. I'm sorry I got so mad earlier. It wasn't even about you; It was a long shitty day, and that's no excuse. You didn't deserve for me to react like that to what you were saying. And I'm sorry I ran. I hated that I was so upset and I couldn’t calm down, so I just need to step away, but- I hurt you. I hurt you so badly, and I never ever meant to. That's the last thing I want because I-" Your voice cracked, a lump of emotion in your throat. Your eyes fell, ashamed. "I just- gods, Rafayel, I love you so much it makes me feel crazy sometimes. I- I'm sorry this is not how I imagined telling you this." You started to pull away. 

Large, long fingered hands gripped your shoulders. "Say it again." 

You blinked, confused by the urgency in his voice as he searched your face. 

"Please. Please say it again or I will be convinced I imagined it." 

You studied his eyes. Firmly in his grip, your brows furrowed until it clicked. Your tension left you. Your hands rose once more to cup his face. A soft smile spread across yours as his cheeks pinken under your touch. "I love you, Rafayel. With all my hea-" 

You were jerked forward into his chest. His lips crashed onto yours. His hands were desperate as they clung to your back, crushing you closer, impossibly closer, as though he needed your very beings to blur into one. His tongue swiped at your lips, hot and wet, begging entry. Demanding it. 

You gasped from the intensity of his kiss. His passion poured forth like an unending wall of water bursting from a dam. His tongue danced along yours, caressing, tasting. Hungry and needy. Warm velvet and tasting of the wine you both had been drinking before your argument hours before. 

Your hands found his shoulders, trying to ground yourself or be swept away. You accidentally slipped out a sound. A needy sound of passion. His answering moan as he angled his head to kiss you deeper made a pleasant shiver run down your spine to pool between your legs. 

In a flash, his hands gripped your thighs, tugging you into his lap as he stood. 

You broke the kiss with a gasp, hands scrambling to hold on. Arms wrapping around his neck as his head ducked, his lips covering your neck in messy, hot, open mouthed kisses. 

"Wh-what? Where are you taking me?" 

His voice was a husky grumble from somewhere deep in his chest, as he licked and nipped at your throat. "I'm taking you to bed, my Heart." 

Next thing you knew, your back was falling onto cream silken sheets.  

He stood between your parted knees hanging over the edge of the bed. His violet eyes raked over your face hungrily. His lips were parted, chest rising and falling as he panted for breath. He didn't move, tongue peaking out to wet his lips. He was breathtaking. He was passion personified, hair mussed from your fingers, lips damp and red swollen from your kisses.  

His voice and the look in his eyes made your insides clench as he reached out, hand on your knee, thumb brushing the inside just so, "If you want me to stop... if you dont want this or..." his thumb stopped, he face flinched, eye closing briefly as though from pain, before opening to peer into your eyes. "If you are unsure of this, of us, of me, tell me now, because once we do this, once we... you will be mine, and I will be yours. It can't be undone. For Lemurians, this is for life, for all time. A soul bond. It's more than any mortal human tradition. More than marriage. It's unbreakable, unending, forever you'd be mine and I'd be yours. If you are unsure-" 

You sat up, going onto your knees atop the bed before him. Your palms rested on his shoulders, "Rafayel..." your hands slid down to his chest. "I- " Your hand stopped at the place on his chest were your mark laid, though the red fish wasn't visible now. Your eyes flicked to his, "I want this." Your hands were on the move again smoothing lower down his chest. "I want this bond. I-" Your hands found the bottom of his shirt, fingertips dancing along the hem before slipping under.  

He gasped, stomach muscles clenching beneath your touch as your hands found his taunt skin beneath.  

"I want forever. I want you." Your hands trailed up the plains of his chest, bringing his shirt with you. Until at last, you griped it in your hands, eyes meeting his in askance.  

His lashes fluttered, eyes falling half-mast. He was breathtaking. His arms rose, allowing you to lift the shirt from his body before flinging the offending material away. 

Your hands fell back to his shoulders, one sliding to cup his neck as you rose to meet him, chest pressing to his. His gaze turned molten, lust heavy and full of love as he looked over your face. His hands came to rest, just so at your waist, still hesitant but hopeful.  

Resolved, you pushed away your nerves, pulling his head down. Breath mingling with his, you gave him what he wanted. What he needed, "I love you. I chose you, Rafayel. Forever and always. Forever, you and me." 

His lips crashed into yours like waves upon a storm wall. He laid you down in a sea of silk and white rose petals.  

You snatched one, lifting it between you with a raise eyebrow.  

He flushed beautifully, "I had plans for us tonight." 

You dropped the petal, fingers weaving through his silken waves. "Show me." 

Clothes flew to land forgotten on the floor. Breaths panted; needy sounds filled the air, carried away through the open balcony windows and out to the sea. His hands and lips mapped you like you were a precious treasure. His lips and tongue worshipped you, swiping the salt from your skin. His breath was hot in your ear as he- at last- slotted his hips between your parted thighs.  

"My Heart, my Queen, my love," fell from his lips like a mantra.  

You felt him there, this mushroomed tip parting your lower lips, dragging the pooled wetness and spreading it. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. 

He groaned, head falling to nuzzle your neck. Still, he froze, going no further. He panted, asking, "Are you sure?" 

You cupped his face, dragging his eyes up to yours, "Rafayel, I have never been more sure of anything in my life. Take me. I am yours." You ran your fingers along his cheek, repeating his words from before, "A soul bond. unbreakable, unending, forever. This is what I chose. It's you, Rafayel. It's always been you." You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, causing his hips to drop. You gasped. His tip slipped into your molten heat just so. 

His head fell back, long pale neck exposed. He bit his lip. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. When his gaze fell back to you, his eyes were dark, like the ocean in a storm.  

Your walls clenched.  

His eyes squeezed shut, a moan falling from his lips, a curse followed. His gaze, heavy and passionate, were back on yours, his arms shaking, "So be it. My Heart, my Queen, my love," his mouth would curl slightly into a playful smirk, "my bride." His hips snapped forward, his full hard length pushing into your gummy walls to full hilt, his pelvis slapping hard into your fleshy cheeks. You could feel him, his tip kissing your cervix. A moan fell from your lips; a hiss of pleasure from his. He stilled buried fully inside you, muscles trembling with the strain. His jaw clenched as he fought for control, "Fuck, love, you feel so good." 

Your hands scrambled for purchase on his shoulders, as he rocked his hips dragging almost all the way out only to snap his hips back, slamming back in. Your nail dug into his back. A babble of praise fell from your lips, "So good. So good, Rafayel. So full." 

He groaned head dropping to your collarbone, "Fuck, love, I can feel you sucking me in." He hissed, "so tight. Like you were made just for me, yeah?" His hips pulled back, dragging his length along your walls until just the tip remained. He leaned up, brushing your hair from your face to cradle your head in one hand, the other braced him on the bed near your head. "Look at me. I want to watch you as I make you mine." 

When your eyes fund his, his face softened a moment. His eyes sweeping over your face in awe before meeting and holding your gaze, he whispered a breathy, "I love you." His eyes darkened with heat again, and he snapped his hips to crash back into yours. He swallowed your answering moan with a bruising kiss, drinking you in, as his hip set a brutal rhythm.  

You clung to him, hips eagerly tilting and undulating to meet his as he pounded you into the sheets. The headboard slammed repeatedly into the wall. You shifted up slightly each powerful thrust. His hands grabbed yours bringing them to wrap around his shoulders, "Brace yourself against me, my love. Fuck! I'm going to ruin you. Ruin you for all others! MC, you are perfect. And you are mine." He melded his lips to yours, tongue moving along yours gently and loving. A sharp contrast to how he was fucking you into his bed. His thrusts were hard and deep, rolling into you like waves. The sound of slapping skin filled the air.  

You gasped, moaned, pleaded as he made your head spin with pleasure, "Yes! Yes, Rafayel! I am yours! Make me yours!" 

The sound that rumbled from his chest was a near growl as he leaned up to grip the headboard with one hand for leverage, his hips doubled in speed. His abs rolled as he kept one hand braced above your shoulder, locking you in place as he repeatedly slammed his cock as deep into as he could get. 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you clung to his arms. Your legs went limp around his waist as pleasure boiled inside you, hot and heavy. Your head thrashed from side to side from the intensity of the waves of sharp pleasure swelling inside you. Your walls began fluttering, clenching, wrapping at his hard length as he pummeled your insides. His tip kissed your cervix with each thrust, giving a burst of the slightest pain-pleasure. You could feel the wetness of you gushing out passed his shaft as it pounded in and out of your tight channel, every ridge of him dragging along your walls in the best way. You were not going to last long. No one, not even yourself had ever gotten you this wet and close to orgasm as Rafayel was doing. It was as though he knew exactly how to make your body sing for him. 

He shifted. The angle changed and you gasped, clinging, clawing, nails digging as his tip bullied into your g-spot with every snap of his hips.  

"Fu-fuck baby!" You wailed, "God's, Rafayel, right there, baby. Please don't stop. Don't stop!" 

His response was a snarl in your ear as his hips snapped into that spot in double time. "Never. I'll never stop. Never stop making love to you, my love. My bride." He kissed you deeply as your walls started spasming. Your climax was close. A hand of his dropped from your neck to slip between you to where you are joined. His fingertips finding the pearl above where he slides into you. The pad of his finger swirling, circling and pressing your clit just right. 

You moaned, head thrown back, "Yess!" 

He covered your neck in love marks, branding you as his. His lips moved to your ear, nipping at the skin right below it, "Are you gonna come for me, my love? Are you gonna come all over my cock like a good girl. Be good bride, hm, come for me," his voice was pure sin in your ear. 

You could only whimper and cling to him, desperate.  

"Answer me. Tell me who you belong to. Say it. I want the people down the beach to hear you scream it. To hear whose cock makes you feel this good. Say it. Say who you belong to." 

You sputtered and gasped out sobs, in capable of words as you race towards your end. 

He took your hips in his hands. He leaned back on his knees. He rose your hips off the bed. His hips slamming into you, hard and fast- almost inhumanly so. The plop, plop, plop of his sack as it slaps against the sticky mess of your cheeks filled the room. He groaned, "Fuck, baby. You feel so good for me. I fucking love you, MC. Fuck, I love you." 

The coil within you snapped and pulses of white hot heat sent tremors, shockwave through your body as your core clamped down on his shaft. Your head fell back as you screamed out his name in the height of your passion, in reverence, "Rafayel!" You sobbed. Actual tears escaped as the white hot waves of orgasm mixed with love for him kept coming.  

His hips never stopped slamming his hard cock into you, bruising your g-spot and cervix. It was heaven. It was bliss. It was so much. It was almost too much. You tensed nearly about to say stop when a sensation you had never felt before hit you like a brick. Your core tightened, abs clenching, your very womb felt like it clenched, your walls clamped tight down around him, almost stopping his movement completely. Then the spasms, ripples of pleasure pulsed from your womb down your walls, massaging, milking, clenching his shaft inside you. You vaguely hear him hiss and a debauched, "Fuck," escape his lips. And  then you feel a gush of warm liquid splash out of you and all over his dick and pelvis. 

Rafayel's violet gaze widened, his grip tightening almost painfully into the fleshy meat of your hips as he held you against him. His head fell back and he moaned, fully wrecked. "Fuck! Babygirl, you just squirted for me." 

Your core clenched at his words even as high sensitivity began to creep in, but he felt so good. So good and hard inside you. You could tell he wasn't too far off. Just the thought of it turned you back on. You desperately wanted to see him lose himself to orgasm. And he was so fucking beautiful as he began rolling his hips into yours again. 

You must've said that last part out loud, because he looked back down at you, lip caught between his teeth before he released it, plump and full. You wanted to bite it. A smirk was on his face, "Yeah? Is that so, babygirl?" His eyes darkened as his hips picked up speed, rolling more into you, faster as he spoke, "You know what's beautiful? You. You splayed out on my bed, looking fucked out, covered in your cum, face flushed as I. Fuck. You." He punctuated his words with a hard thrust, fingers digging into your hips deliciously. 

You gasped, walls clenching again as he steadily fucked you into another crest. His face fell into a grimace, as your walls, overstimulated into another quickly growing orgasm, clenched and released and clenched his shaft as he began to thrust into you with wild abandon, "Fuck, babygirl, I can feel you clenching me, yeah? You love the feel of this dick pounding you, don't you? So. Fucking. Beautiful. And. All. Mine." 

His mouth was filthy. Filthy and hot. You had never heard Rafayel speak in such a way. Rafayel who was often bashful and blushing when your flirting. Rafayel who tended to be a pouty needy boy that made your heart melt. This Rafayel was just as needy. But in a way you had never seen him before, as he panted your name from his lips like a mantra. His gorgeous head tossed back, neck exposed, abs clenching and rolling his hips as he slammed into you, face flushed and skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He was breathtaking. He was yours. You wanted him to come, and come for you now. 

Your hands scrambled to the headboard above you, bracing against it in determination. You started to roll your hips into his, meeting each powerful thrust with as much force as he was giving you. You were gonna come again but this time, this time, you were taking him with you. 

He gasped, fingers digging into your fleshy hips. His eyes snapped down to you, seeing the heat in your eyes as they raked over his body, your lip caught between your teeth. He groaned at the sight and at the feel of your hips moving in rhythm with his. "F-fuck, my love, I'm gonna come. Where do you- where should I-?" His voice is completely fucked out. Almost drunk. 

You tugged his arm and he fell back over you, compliant to your every whim, your knees swept up to rest over his arms as he braced himself with them framing your waist. Your legs were trapped pressed up and apart, unable to move as freely, to roll as deeply with your knees hooked over his forearms like this. But oh. You saw stars and he moaned in your ear. At this angle, with you opened wide, it felt like he went deeper. You both gasped out moans. Your lips brushed his ear as you told him your deepest want right then, "Inside. I want you inside me. Please, Rafayel. I want to feel all of you. Fill me up." 

He groaned, a pained sound before driving into you in earnest, "I am gonna come. I cant- I can't hold on much more." 

Your walls fluttered at the needy sound of his voice. Your Rafayel. Your beautiful Rafayel. He was so like the ocean, so many faucets to his personality. He could be calm loving one moment then demanding and passionate and then needy the next. You loved him. You loved all of him and he was all yours. 

"I'm coming too, baby. Let go" you implored him, "I want it. I am yours and you are mine. Forever. I want all of you. Give it to me." 

With a few more slams of his cock into your depths, you felt the moment he lost control of it. His forehead pressed to yours, noses brushing, as he let out a long moan of pleasure mixed with your name. His shaft pulsed as rope after rope of hot cum filled your womb. His blissed out face, the grind of his pelvis into your clit, the twitching of his cock as he came inside, and the warmth that flooded your inner most parts triggered your orgasm. 

"F-fuck!" He hissed out, blissfully as your walls milked him further. His thrust slowed until it was just a slow drag. His breath, panted by your ear. He peppered your neck and shoulder with kisses, before pulling back to press his lips lovingly against yours. When he pulled away, you noticed his eyes were nearly glowing blue as the Mediterranean sea, a spackling of blue iridescent scales freckled down his throat to his chest.  

Your fingertips followed the trail as his hips finally rested, fully seat against yours, spent, but refusing to leave your warmth. You could feel the hot mix of both of your fluids spilling out around where his now soft member still rested within your walls. Your eyes flicked up to his, watching you full of love. Your gut twisted in guilt, remembering what got you here. "I am sorry I ran out. I was so angry. I so angry, and it hurt to be so angry at you. I felt overwhelmed. I just... I needed space. To breathe. To calm down so I could think." 

He tutted, fingers combing some of your messy hair from your face. "Hush now, my bride. It is okay now. You came back to me. We are together. We are one now. That is all that matters." His eyes trailed your face before a sheepish look fell over his expression, "Besides, it was my fault you got overwhelmed. I kept pushing and pushing even when you said you needed to think. I was terrified that I was losing you so I couldn't bring myself to give you a moment." His eyes met yours, "I am sorry." 

You hummed, "Still I shouldn't have ran from you. I know about our pasts and I know that me leaving is something you fear. It was cruel of me," your heart lunched at the flicker of pain in his gaze. 

"Very well, though, I must admit I feel guilty for making you feel like what happened in those past lives is your responsibility. They both were and were not you. That's not your burden to carry." 

It was your turn to tsk, "I love you. Your burdens are my burdens. It's you and me, forever, Rafayel. You don't have to carry everything alone. Not anymore. Never again." 

His eyes went soft, as he dipped his head to press a kiss to your lips, "Whatever you say, my bride." 

You nuzzled into his palm cupping your cheek, "I do say. How about we both agree we are both idiots in love and leave it at that?" 

His chuckling at that shook you slightly. As your bodies were still pressed together, it shifted his shaft slightly inside of you. You realized that it was not all that soft anymore, and that he never left your heat. Your breath caught in your throat. Your walls fluttered around him. 

He hissed, head snapping up to meet your gaze. His eyes mischievous, "You want more of your Fishy husband, hm?" His hips gently pulsed, in and out of your heat slowly, testing the waters, a smirk stretching his mouth as you gasped from pleasure. 

Your eyes widen at his words. He had been calling you his bride. And now calling himself your husband. 

Seeing your look, he stilled and became worried, brows furrowing slightly. A blush spread across his cheeks and down his chest as his face becomes more pouty than the heat it held before, "I did say that to Lemurians this was essentially more binding than any silly human marriage." 

"You didn't say it quite like that!" You reeled dazed, your mind racing. 

His face crumpled before he smoothed his expression to one of more indifference. He plucked a shoulder in a shrug and rolled off of you, making you hiss as he slid out of you for the first time since you joined. 

He flopped onto his back a short distance away, "I apologize. I guess I should've been more clear. It's okay though. You won't feel the effects. We can pretend we didn't-" he gasped as you appeared over him and on him, having thrown your leg over his hip. You pressed him to the bed with a hand to his chest, your legs caging his hips between your thighs. "Nnngh," he groaned as you lowered your hips to sit over his pelvis, his once again harden length pressed between your nether lips, soaked in both of your juices from before. He had to fight not to roll his hips up into you, but settled for gripping your hips firmly. 

You sighed, hands moving, fingers dancing across the pale skin of his chest, from freckle to scale. "I never said I didn't want it." 

He stilled, eyes studying you intently. Holding his breath even. 

"I do want it. Want you. I told you, Rafayel, it's you and me. Forever." 

His grip lightened. His thumbs brushed tenderly across your skin. 

Your eyes sought out his, warm and tender. "So, husband," you grinned as his breath caught in his throat. "How do Lemurians enjoy their honeymoon?" You swiveled your hips to drag your wet heat along his now very hard again shaft. 

He gripped your hips, smirk nearly feral, "Let me show you, my Bride." 

[cameronspecial]

how about we go a lil angsty? the reader hadn’t yet told him about her being pregnant bcs she remembers Drew once said he doesnt know if he wants to be a dad and so she tried to bring the topic up with hypothetical questions and his answers not exactly the thing she wanted to hear so she went all silent and pulled herself away and stuff.

I dont wanna give it away, so please you decide the ending..either they communicate and Dad!Rafe rise or…

I Want This

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Abortions and Miscommunication

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Well… She doesn’t know what she expected the results to be, but this is definitely an answer. Y/N doesn’t even think she can focus on the opinion she has of this situation because all she can think about is Drew’s.

———

“Awww, Babe, look at this pic of Lils that Mac sent me,” he gushed, holding his phone up to his fiancée. She looked up from her laptop, “So cute. Ugh, I miss them so much. I mean look at those little baby rolls. I just want to cuddle the cutie.” He smiled and brought her head under the crook of his neck. “I know. We have to visit them soon. I’m so glad I have a niece. It means I can be the fun uncle forever and never have to be a dad,” he mindlessly thought out loud, going back to scrolling on his phone. This caused her to freeze; they never talked about having kids, but he was so good with them that she assumed he would want them. She should’ve asked him about it because she wanted them. She didn’t though. Kids were important to her and so was Drew. She wasn’t ready to cause a rift in their relationship because of something small. 

———

Staring at the positive pregnancy test, she has to figure out a way to gauge how he would feel about it before actually telling him the truth. Once she knows how he feels, it will help her decide how she wants to feel about it seeing that if they are on the opposite page, then she would have to make a difficult decision. She shoves the positive tests into the box and hides them in her makeup drawer. He never goes looking there. She exits the bathroom, lets out a deep breath, and heads to the kitchen to start getting lunch ready. Drew is coming home from filming in Morocco later today. The music blasting through the speakers makes her unaware of the new presence in the house. He smiles at the dancing silhouette cutting potatoes. His hand drops over her eyes and she sets the knife down with a grin. Her arms wrap around her neck to bring him down towards her. This allows her to pepper his face with kisses. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to be back until tonight,” she notices, turning the music off. His hand rests on her hip, “I was, but I was offered an early flight and I couldn’t say no to seeing my girl early. I missed you and I love you.” She sinks into his hold. “I missed and love you too.”

The couple spend the next half an hour cooking together before settling themselves at the dining room table. Since they talked to each other throughout cooking, silence falls over them. A chime comes from his phone and he checks it to see a text from his sister. “Mac is planning on coming down with Lils and my mom soon. They can stay in the guest room, right?” Drew confirms, reading over the text again. She nods, “Yeah, I’ll get it ready over the weekend and buy one of those travelling crib things for Lils. It is going to be fun to have a baby around the house. The guest room would make a nice baby room in the future. It has nice big windows and the closet is the perfect size.” The chuckle that comes out of his mouth drops her stomach into a furnace. 

“What’s so funny?” she questions. He shrugs, “Not the babysitting part. They could both use a break and I will never say no to spending time with my niece. It’s just the thought of having to turn the guest room into a baby room is funny.” 

“Oh, why?”

“I don’t know. It’s a guest room. I mean where would our family stay when they come over?” 

“Yeah, where would they stay?”

She should probably ask if he meant he can’t imagine the room as a baby room right now or if it was a forever thought; however, she is scared of the answer she is going to get so she shuts down the conversation. They sit in a new tension-filled silence that he pretends he can’t feel. 

———

After lunch, Y/N retreats to the backyard to swing in the hammock. This tells him that she needs some space and he knows she is upset when she is still outside at eleven p.m. The friction of the patio door sliding against each other makes her turn to him. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence, waiting for him to say something. He places the plate of pasta he made for dinner onto the side table beside the hammock. “I found the pregnancy tests,” he states, bringing one of the patio chairs close to her. She freezes and sits up. Her legs swing over the fabric to face him, “How?” “Maddie helped me pick out clay pot Moroccan lipstick for you and I wanted to surprise you with it. I was going to hide it in your drawer…” he explains, eyes falling to his fingers and trailing off at the end. Her head moves up and down. Her thoughts are moving around her head a thousand miles a second. He is going to break up with her. He is going to make her have an abortion. Or worse. He is going to make her choose between the baby or him on the spot. 

He grows nervous when she doesn’t say anything and his suspicions are confirmed. He understands why she is unsure about talking to him about this. The way he has spoken about having a baby in the past could’ve given her the wrong idea. He hesitantly reaches to place a hand on hers and does it when she doesn’t shy away. “I want you to know that the decision about what we do with the baby is up to you and I will be at your side during the whole process,” he assures. Her confusion causes tears to crop up in her eyes, “You don’t want the baby though. I know that, so if you are going to break up with me because I do, then just do it. But making me have to choose is kinda cruel.” His heart squeezes, hating that his words aren’t coming out as he means them to be. His head shakes like crazy and he sits beside her. He brings her head against his chest, “Babe, I don’t want to break up with you. I want to have this baby with you too.”

“You want the baby? Then how come you don’t think the guest room would be a good baby room?”

“Because my office would be a better one. The windows aren’t too big so it won’t wake the baby up in the morning and the closet there is even bigger, so when they get older they can have as many clothes as their heart desires.”

“Okay, you are right… What about when you said you want to be an uncle forever and never be a dad?”

“Honestly, I never really thought I would want to be a dad. I was content with being an uncle, but, Babe, when I found that pregnancy test, all I could think about was how happy I was to be bringing a child into the world with the most amazing woman in the world and I couldn’t wait to raise them with you.”

She leans back and rests a warm palm on his cheeks, trying to hold back her tears. “So you want to have this baby?” she verifies. He kisses the tears away, “I want this, Babe. I promise. We are going to do this. Together.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[postm0rt3m]

writing this so fast because if i dont ILL FORGET IT PLEASE

(insp by that super SEXY IMAGE posted by @simonz-angel !!)

bzzt.

your eyes jolt open at the sudden feeling of your phone buzzing, the vibration under your pillow prompting a soft, groggy groan from your lips.

you’re not sure what time it is, but when you open your eyes, it’s still dark outside. riley, your retired bomb-sniffing german shepherd, is still fast asleep at the foot of the bed. and your two little kitties are seemingly no where to be found.

you finally roll over, the time on your little bed stand alarm clock reading 2:28 AM. ‘who the hell is texting at 2 in the damn morning??’ you wonder with another groan, this time an annoyed one. although one person pops in your mind. specifically, a big beefy man, who is currently out on deployment. your annoyance washes away instantly.

you can’t help the giddy smile that spreads across your face just at the thought of him. simon riley. your big beefy man.

he’s been gone for a little under a week now, although its felt like years. the same as it always does. you miss your warm, brick wall of a man! you’re currently bundled under three different blankets, and its still not the same! you miss his big, plush pecks and biceps that feel like pillows under your head, the rough skin of the burn scar across the entire right half of his torso that you could just run your tongue over for the rest of your life, and just don’t get me started on that tattoo sleeve.

of course.. you also just miss him. the way he yells at riley then immediately feeds him a treat because he feels bad, the way he looks at you when he finally does arrive back from his harrowing work, the way he whispers sweet nothings into your ear when he thinks you’ve drifted off.

simply put, you miss your simon.

you’re brought out of your thoughts when riley stirs at the end of the bed, a soft giggle escaping your lips as the dog lies on his back with his tongue flopped out and each of his limbs in the air, like a possum playing dead.

you decide to finally open the message, although that small pit of worry is in your stomach, as it always is when you receive a message from him.

is he hurt?

did something happen?

please be okay.

the same thoughts always run through your mind when you get these random texts, but as soon as you open the chat, your mind instantly freezes. well.. maybe blanks is a better word.

there’s no caption, no words. just a single image attached. and holy shit, is it better than anything you could’ve asked for.

he looks to be lying in his bed, the familiar military-approved white sheets tucked in neatly behind him. the camera is angled high above himself, and it looks as if he still has his gloves on. you can also see the waistline of his pants, and of course that sexy mask (you could bust just from thinking about it), and the dogtags you were just wearing when you bounced up and down on his cock, but.. thats it. he’s completely shirtless.

his muscular, toned abs and pecks are fully on display. for you. only for you. his beefy biceps are on either side of the frame, and that tattoo sleeve you remember tasting just a week ago is sitting deliciously in view. the way his shoulders barely fit in frame, the way the muscle connecting his shoulders up to his neck sits so perfectly high, the way his collarbones. THE WAY HIS V-LINE.

god.. and his scars? you can remember leaving a rather large hickey over that old bullet hole. giggling over the stab wound stretching over his ribcage. licking a stripe all the way from his v-line to his shoulder over the jagged skin of his burn scar. although there is a new one, one you can only presume he got in the last week. no matter, it will be tasted as soon as he gets home.

you end up staring at the picture for a good ten minutes (12, but who’s counting?) before you actually respond. you.. really aren’t sure what to say. it’s not uncommon for him to send images while hes out on deployment, but at 2:30? on a random tuesday? he must be horned up.

but you can’t just leave your man hanging! so.. you decide with a simple text.

> oh

you can already imagine the deep chuckle as he reads the message, the way he’d palm over his painfully tight bulge just thinking about you before unbuttoning his pants, his hard and leaking cock springing up against his lower abdomen and his big, veiny hand wrapping around it-

obviously, you’re feeling the same as he is, considering just how quickly you rush riley out of the room (don’t worry, he’ll get a treat later to make up for it) and plop back down in bed, your phone in one hand as the other lazily circles over your clit.

like i said, you miss your simon.

and you’ll definitely be getting him back for that little tease.

tumblr STOP DELETING PARAGRAPSH WHEN I TRY TO SPSCE THEM. hi i wrote this within like thirty minutes at 3 in the morning and its not proofread so.. enjoy!

ft a lil msg 😜 (BCZ WTF WOULD YOU RESPOND TO THAT my hand would be PREOCCUPIED)

[starfxkrinc]

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jj said you spooked him sometimes. not ever on purpose, but you were so quiet. moving around the house swiftly on the tips of your toes to the point he never heard you coming.

“keep spookin the shit outta me and im gettin you a bell.” he laughed when he said it, pinching your cheek with a goofy grin before we turned back to the table he was setting up. so you didn’t think twice about it, not when he jumped out of his skin when you brushed past him in the kitchen or when he let out a yelp when you appeared in his vision as he worked on your car.

but you could sense his growing frustrating—his laughs turned to scoffs and his smile was tight when you gave a half hearted apology. it wasn’t your fault, you’d always been quiet.

you guess the last straw was the other night. jj woke up at 2am to you not in bed, so he searched for you, you weren’t in the bathroom and you weren’t in the kitchen, chugging a jug of strawberry milk. his heart raced, you had to be there somewhere and it wasn’t like you to disappear like this. by the time he checked outside to still not get a glimpse of you he was panicking and breathing so hard his vision tunneled.

only for him to let out a loud “fuck!” when he got back to your room and there you were, buried under the pillow, asleep again. the next morning you told him you walked right behind him, standing in the doorway and you figured he just needed fresh air.

it took him an hour to settle his heartrate enough to sleep. and in that hour he made a decision.

jj had to get it right, so he snatched one of your necklaces off the counter, tucking it in his pocket as he made his way to the general pet store, nose crinkling at the familiar pet smell. it didn’t take him long, finding a collar with a little bell on it, small enough to sit in the base of your throat, the actual collar was just big enough to be comfortable.

when he took it to the cashier, she made a comment, “didn’t know you got a cat jj. i always took you for a dog guy.”

jj shrugged, “little bitch snuck up on me what can i say.” and with a pop of his gum the conversation was over. he ignored how uncomfortable she looked after that.

getting you in it was another story—he looked too smug, hovering over where you sat on the couch reading.

“got you something.”

you eyed him warily, “got me what…”

he produced the offending item from his pocket, and your stomach churned as hill smile got wider.

“so you stop creepin around the house like some…creep.”

“no…no i dont wanna wear it.” you shook your head fast, your body tensing up to bolt, “jj you’re a dick this ain’t funny.”

“who’s laughin?”

you make it about 3 strides before he catches you, knocking you to the ground and locking your hands to your sides with his knees as you both struggle.

“c’mon, stop fightin you know i’ma win, just relax and let me. put it. on!”

you were wild—biting and scratching in an attempt to push him away, but he’s gotten stronger and he’s gotten meaner so all it takes is a palm against your face, pressing you hard into the floor for him to get it on you.

“fuck! bit the fuck outta me damn, i’m just tryna make shit easy on both of us.” jj bends the plastic of the fastener, knowing the second he gives you an inch you’ll rush to take it off.

and you do, tears of anger and frustration sliding down your face as you beg him to let you go, “just take it off please, i wasn’t trying to worry you i promise but i can’t walk around like this.”

jj’s flushed red, his face damp and sweaty with welts rising on his cheek and arm from where you scratched him, “tough titty kid, it’s for your own good.”

in a split second you go from begging to anger, cursing and swinging on him again.

“you’re a fucking piece of shit. fucking scumbag i’m not a goddamn animal i should kick your fuckin ass.”

rolling his eyes he gets up and shrugs, “you can try. at least this time i’ll hear you.”

after that you become real ornery, dodging kisses and sticking pillows between you while you slept to keep him away. jj could hear you all the time now—a soft jingle punctuated by a growl of frustration or a series of manic curses. and he looked pleased. of course he did. because he found a way to get over on you. and the scissors couldn’t cut through the thick fabric of the collar and when he caught you with the knife to your neck trying to saw it off he basically attached his carabiner to your belt loops to keep you close.

you were officially collared and leashed.

and jj could only stand the fighting so long.

“i know you’re mad at me, but you can’t stay mad.” jj muttered in between kisses to your face, his calloused hand cradling the other one to keep you close—this was as close as you’ve let him get in days, and it was only because he caught you after a shower all soft and languid. he knew he was playing a dangerous game letting his thumb rub against your bottom lip.

“fuckin watch me—stop!” he bit you. hard. right on the soft apple of your cheek before soothing it with a gentle suck.

“nope, no ya can’t. you don’t get to.” the kisses get lower, trailing down your neck as he slips his thumb in your mouth, “you’re all mine pussycat, i can do what i want.” he punctuates that with another bite, right to your clavicle and he continues to litter you in bites and harsh sucking kisses until your covered in bruises.

that makes you bristle, "no i'm not."

"no?"

"fuck you, i'm not."

gripping your thighs he pulls you closer, and he smirks when he spreads you open. even in the low light he can see the dewy pout of your cunt.

"right."

you barely even fight when he pushes in, all rough and claiming like he has something to prove. maybe he does. because your squeezed tight around him in a way that makes him feel crazy, like you don't wanna let him go. because he's just as much yours as you are his. because you're just as desperate as he is. you missed him. kissing him with sharp teeth and clawing him closer until your pressed so tight you can't tell you you end and he begins.

the room quickly becomes a cacophony of sex-- filled with the wet squelch of your pussy and strangled moans from the back of jj's throat. even when he presses against your stomach to make you whine, even as he grunts into your neck with his teeth bared and his tongue laving over your throbbing pulse point.

nothing's louder than the little bell jingling at the hollow of your throat.

[cloudcountry]

Hello, I wanted to ask if you could please write something with Eiland or reader confessing their feelings to the other? It could be intentional or accidental, completely up to you.

I would really appreciate it if you could, but I understand if you don’t have the time. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a lovely day and everyday forward! 💕

SUMMARY: you have a reason to stay in mistria now.

COMMENTS: OH OF COURSE I CAN WRITE THIS <333 I LOVE EILAND MWAH i wrote this in like forty minutes sobs im too tired to edit if you see a typo no you dont

It’s your soft breathing and the way the back of your hand brushes against his that makes his stomach flip, his heart fluttering anxiously in his chest. Eiland isn’t sure how much longer he can hold on to the emotions swelling in his chest, begging and pleading to be set free as if they’ve been imprisoned inside his chest for the better part of two years.

In some way, Eiland supposes they had.

You just look so nice tonight, the most lovely thing you’re wearing being your smile, flashes of teeth as you laugh and the delicate curve of your lips catching his eye. Your laugh is like a siren call, and he finds himself recalling everything he knows about the Mermaid’s Comb in the museum to calm down. While it’s technically not related to sirens, it's the closest thing his scrambled mind can think of right now.

It does little to help when all that blasted comb does it make him think of you lovingly brushing his hair as the fireplace crackles in the background and he tells you about his latest archaeological discovery.

“Eiland?” you whisper, soft as the night breeze and the muted hollering from the Inn.

He makes a noise of acknowledgement, looking over at you. You’re looking at him too, eyes wide and bright, and his heart shudders when he sees the stars from above reflected in your pupils. He swallows, finding the courage in his heart to press the back of his hand right against yours. You gasp, soft and surprised, and Eiland feels so warm.

“There’s...I received an offer from the Capital.” you murmur, voice shaking as you try to maintain your composure, “They heard about my accomplishments in Mistria and wanted me to take on some higher level jobs for some nobles.”

Eiland's heart drops right out of his body, slamming into the cobblestones beneath his feet.

No.

He opens his mouth and you grab his hand, giving him a meaningful look. He shuts his lips tight, pulling them into a thin line, cheeks heating at the touch.

“It got me thinking about...where I want my life to go. I’m not getting any younger.” you admit, “And I don’t want my life to be at the Capital at all. They’ve been badgering me about new jobs and they keep raising the money I could earn but it’s...it’s not enticing.”

Eiland’s eyes are searching yours, unaware of what you’re trying to say, his brain processing your words over and over and over again, trying to find your meaning. Your thumb is stroking the back of his hand and it makes him shiver—if you asked, he could blame it on the wind, but he knows how desperate he is for you to be near him and how badly it affects him when you are.

“I wanted to tell you this first because...well, I’m not sure if you’d feel the same way or not...but I don’t want to leave here. I’m satisfied with what Mistria has given me. I came here for the land, but that land has become my home. And I want to share it with someone someday.”

Him reading to you by the fireplace. Having Adeline over for family dinners. Watering your crops in the morning before you get out of bed. Making you breakfast every morning. Cleaning the house while you’re gone. Having his own home library, a mixture of your tastes and his. You being an in-law to his aunt and sister.

“I was thinking...if I was going to stay here, and if I was going to share my life with someone...well, I...”

You hand feeding him sweets. You two sitting in rocking chairs on a rainy day. You calling him baby or honey or boyfriend or love or darling or husband. The two of you visiting the General Store to pick up groceries. The whole town knowing you’re together.

You swallow, as if preparing for something.

Eiland’s imagination is too far away from him now.

“I would want that person to be you.”

Eiland freezes, flushed cheeks burning and pretty lips parted. His eyes are wide, unbelieving, and with the way his heartbeat pounds in his ears he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

“What?” is the only thing he can muster, shaking fingers intertwining with yours, darting eyes searching yours like a man gone mad.

“In other words,” you tear your gaze away, flustered at the proximity, knowing anyone could walk outside of the Inn at any given moment and see you, holding hands with Eiland, nearly pressed against his chest, “I want to be with you.”

Eiland’s face brightens, his arms pulling you into him and you crash against his chest. His arms soften your fall, holding you up and he squeezes you close, nose pressed to your skin and hair tickling your face. You can feel his excited breaths against the warmth of your cheeks and you squirm, flustered and unused to the proximity.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just so happy.” he sounds like he’s about to cry, hands pressed to your back like you’re his salvation, “I’ve liked you for so long. I didn’t think you’d felt the same.”

“I do.” you confess, wiggling his hold just loose enough to free your hand, running your fingers through his hair, “You’re a treasure Eiland. I like you very much.”

Eiland pulls away and laughs, joyful and boyish, his grin infectious.

“To think, you would deny the Capital for me!” he places a hand over his heart, eyes crinkling in the corners as he gazes upon you adoringly, “My dear, I am smitten with you!”

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Just A Little Taste

Frank (Adam Barrett) x f!reader

Summary: you’re the only one left, and Frank is more the happy to keep you around. Alternative ending where Frank kills everyone else and doesn’t explode

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, blood kink (he’s a vampire tf did you expect), degradation, he’s mean to her and she likes it, rough sex (he breaks a table), choking, suffocation kink, implied consent (I think? she consents to it later), explicit language (take a shot every time he says fuck), no use of y/n or physical descriptions, blood, violence, it’s a horror movie idk what to tell you. Read at own caution

I call him Frank throughout the fic, it’s just easier for narrative because he was only ever called Adam like once. It’s also implied in the movie he doesn’t go by Adam anymore so.

WC: 4.8k I’m sorry

A/N: DONT YOU DARE LOOK AT ME. I had to I’m sorry okay??? Not only did I want to fuck this prick the whole movie im actually obsessed with Dan Stevens now so there’s that. But I totally thought about fucking this man the whole movie so I wrote it. To the 5 people that will read this you’re welcome (I’ll see you in hell😘)

For reference I based some characterization bits on this fic by @f1nalboys since I think they wrote Frank perfectly! And I think they rubbed off a little on mine lol

What the fuck did you get yourself into?

Your head was throbbing, your racing heart drumming in your ears. You felt like you were spinning. On your hands and knees on the floor, you were covered in so much blood and guts you felt like tearing your skin off. You didn’t even think it was your own blood. They were all dead. 

This wasn’t what you signed up for.

You were crawling, you didn’t know where you were trying to go, it wasn’t like you could outrun her, or him. You looked behind you to find them in their mayhem. Truly Joey and Abigail were trying, you watched them from a corner—bruised and bloody—as they tried to fight him, maybe kill him. Then you would be next for not helping. But it didn’t look like it mattered. Joey wasn’t moving from where she was impaled, blood gushing from her neck. You couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes. You choked out a sob as you tried to force yourself up on your feet. But who were you fucking kidding? You were fucked either way. Abigail would catch you and feed off you slowly before ending your torment. Or Frank would. And truly, you almost wanted Abigail to get you instead. 

“Ah. There you are. Thought I forgot about you?” His sinister words filled your ears and another sob ripped from your throat as you pathetically tried to crawl away, your legs too unstable to even support your weight.

“No.. no.. no.” the shaky words slipped from your throat as more tears spilled from your eyes, a feeling of utter terror and dread settling in your stomach. You actually cried when he effortlessly grabbed one of your ankles and dragged you towards him. “Please!”

“Aw, are you crying?” He mocked you, tilting his head at you, tongue swiping over razor sharp teeth. Blood covered his mouth and chin, down his neck and his eyes were sadistic as he looked over your distressed form. He almost looked in thought, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with you yet. 

“Just kill me. There's no one else..” You sobbed, looking to the side to find Abigail’s body completely lifeless, limp, black blood pooling around her. You swallowed, your jaw locking tight as you looked up at him in defeat. You just made peace with the fact that this was it. “You won. Just fucking end it.” 

Frank clicked his tongue, amusement mixing with the malice in his expressions and he shook his head. “I like you, y’know. You have such a dirty fuckin’ mouth for such a pretty face. Thought about how to shut you up all night, and I think I figured it out.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes screwed shut when he reached down to grab you. You fully expected him to sink his fangs into your throat and tear it right out, suck you dry until your heart stopped pumping. But he didn’t. You let out a pathetic sound when he grabbed the back of your hair and forced you up on your feet. He forced your head back, giving you no other option but to look at him. 

Frank knew his heart had stopped beating the second fangs grazed his lips, but right now as he watched your face twist with desperation and anticipation of his next move, your soft lips quivering and your big eyes staring back at him, he swore he felt blood pumping in his veins. This thought of your life being completely in his hands, that ultimately you were the only one left, it gave him an indescribable feeling he craved to explore more. He always did enjoy exerting his power over those around him, but this was so different. He felt it even before he turned. 

Something about you was so intoxicating and alluring to him. The second he met you, he knew he wouldn’t let this be the last time he saw you. As much as that defeated the purpose of the no-name, unknown crew thing he had established. The little looks you shot him throughout the night, like he intrigued you, amused you. He caught each and every one. But it wasn’t until you got all up in his face to curse and shout at him about what had gone down with Abigail that he realized that if he died tonight without getting a taste of you he would be real fucking pissed in hell. 

He didn’t want to kill you. No. He wanted to ruin you. Fuck you into nothing. Fuck you until you were useless, nothing more just an outlet for his pleasure. 

“I don’t want to kill you. I wanna keep you, actually. I wouldn’t waste a pretty lil’ thing like you.” His blood stained lips curled up into a sinister smirk that had your stomach turning in ways that would make any sane human being sick. You kept your mouth shut as he leaned down to find your ear, his grip on your hair tightening. “I can think of a couple things you would be so good for.”

“You're going to hypnotize me? Turn me into your personal fuck puppet?” You scoffed through gritted teeth, the idea making your stomach twist and your jaw lock. He laughed, the sound so somber in your ear it made you swallow. He ultimately shook his head, tisking softly at you.

“Jesus, what kind of a fuckin’ animal do you think I am? You have two options here,” he ran his tongue over his lips, blue eyes sharp on yours as his grip loosened. “You can go. You know where the door is. I’ll even give you a head start. But, if I catch you, I’ll fuck you until you pass out.”

Your mouth fell open, shock filling your eyes at his vulgar words. An unsettling heat settled deep within you as the implications of his words sank in. You should not be considering your options. Get the fuck out. It’s that simple. But your mind lingered. He could almost sense your hesitation. This made him smile.

“Don’t act like you weren’t giving me fuck me eyes all night. Clinging to me like a bitch in heat. I bet you would have let me fuck you on the nearest surface of this place if I had tried.” The words he spat flustered you in deep embarrassment. You hated that he wasn’t wrong. You gravitated towards him, caught glimpses of him when you thought he wasn’t looking, you wrapped up his bleeding leg, you refused to leave his side when everyone else chose to split up. But what truly sunk into him was the fact that you refused to fight him, too. You ran with Joey but you didn’t fight him and you didn’t help them, against your better judgment. And you couldn’t deny that.

“So pick one.” He released your hair, taking a step back. You released the breath you were holding and you stared at him, blinking softly, searching for any deceit in his eyes. Maybe he was toying with you. Giving you a false sense of security. He tilted his head at you, amusement and malicious glee circling in his blue eyes as the smirk never left his expression. 

You often listened to your instincts, to your gut. And your gut was telling you to get the fuck out of this place. You swallowed a sob as you ran down a long hallway, your heart pounding in your chest as your feet took you somewhere. But you hesitated, a deep sense of doubt sinking in your head. Something else joined. A feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend but it was strong, and you didn’t want to go out that door. Not really. 

You stopped running. You didn’t know why you stopped. You looked behind you, almost expecting to find him there. A heavy feeling sat in your chest, an eerie sense of anticipation. You could leave right now, pretend none of this ever happened, only a nightmare to hide in the back of your subconscious. But somehow, you didn’t move. Frank didn’t have to spare you, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight him off on your own even if you tried—you didn’t want to. He was in complete control and he chose you. You weren’t oblivious. 

The smirk on his face only grew wider when he caught you at the end of the hallway, sinister eyes pinning you in place as he approached you. But you weren’t hypnotized, you just didn’t want to run. 

“Well, aren't you full of surprises?” He grabbed your jaw, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. You didn’t try to fight him.  Your eyes flickered with defiance and curiosity. “Did you even try to run?”

“You were giving me fuck me eyes, too.” You dared to shoot back, and you didn’t miss the way his eyebrows shot up with pleasant surprise. He blew out a chuckle. 

“Yeah, I was.” 

His mouth was on yours as he held your face in place, his tongue slipping into your mouth without shame, razor sharp teeth nicking your lip. You gasped at the stinging sensation, the metallic taste mixing with his mouth. He almost growled at the taste. 

His mouth stayed on yours, not giving you even a second to breathe as he backed you to the nearest wall. You ignored the blood drying on his cool skin and the stickiness of his clothes as you ran your hands up his face until they landed on his disheveled hair. Truth was, the filthiness of it all, how fucked up it all was, it all added to your arousal. You weren’t a saint afterall, and this thrill excited you like nothing ever before. You didn’t know just what he was capable of, that excited you.

“Your stupid heart is beating so fuckin’ fast. Do you want it that bad?” His words were mocking, in a breathy laugh as his lips moved down your jaw. You opened your mouth to reply when he dragged his tongue over your skin to taste the blood staining it. Your eyes rolled softly, your brain shutting off for just a second.

“God, yes.” You breathed out as his hands grabbed at your tits through your shirt. A smirk fell on his lips again as he effortlessly tore the material right in half. You groaned at this, though ultimately your clothes were ruined anyway, but he could have asked, you would have taken it off. “You could’ve taken it off, you know?”

He laughed, shrugging as he dragged his tongue over your collarbone, the ends of his teeth grazing your skin ever so slightly, “I’m not your fuckin’ Prince Charming.”

“Nope, you’re just an asshole.” You bit your lip softly, trying to level your voice as not to sound so out of breath, so desperate, but when he carelessly unzipped your jeans, tugging them down your thighs just enough for him and unceremoniously shoved his hand into your panties, how the fuck could you stay calm?

“Oh, yeah, I’m a fuckin’ asshole,” he lifted his head to watch your mouth fall open and your eyes grow big when his middle finger slipped between your folds and rubbed your wetness on your clit. The sweet moan he pulled from you made him grin with delight. “But I’m a great fuck. Wanna find out sweetheart?”

The only response you gave him was a pathetic moan when he slipped two long fingers into your hole, and he couldn’t help but mock the way your lips parted open in pleasure.

“Oh, I think you do. You’re soaking my fingers and for what? You just wanted this pussy filled and you didn’t care about nothin’ else huh?” He took in the way your eyebrows furrowed and twisted as he slipped his fingers in and out, listened to your soft gasps each time he curled his fingers the right way. And he did it, again, and again. “You should’ve said somethin’. Fuck.. I would’ve.. I would’ve fucked you with my tongue in the bathroom, or bent you over the pool table and filled you with my cock.”

Your walls squeezed his fingers and a sob ripped from your throat at his words. You were begging his name softly, one of your hands flying to wrap around his wrist as he fucked you with his fingers, your release creeping up on you faster than it ever has before.

“Yeah, you’d like that. You just wanted me to take you like a whore, hm?” He slipped and crooked his fingers perfectly, his palm rutting against your clit with each expert flick of his wrist. Your chest was heaving, eyes screwed shut as pathetic sounds fell freely from your lips. But what truly caught his attention was the vein that popped on your neck close to your pulse point, pulsing as blood pumped through your veins. He narrowed his eyes as he focused on it, he could almost hear each thump of your heart, pumping faster the closer you got. It was so human. Something he no longer was. “What's that? You close or somethin’?”

“Uh-huh!” His thumb was on your clit as the sound left your mouth, his fingers pumping and scissoring your cunt wide open until a sob ripped from your throat, your mind going completely blank as your release coated his fingers. You could feel yourself slip down the wall, your legs a shaking mess that couldn’t hold you up any longer, his fingers still deep inside your weeping cunt. But he didn’t stop, he pressed his body against yours, free hand on your hip, forcing your body upright. You sputtered, your nails digging into his wrist as he forced his fingers as far as they could go, drawing out on your pleasure to the point of tears. “Frank, h-hang on.”

The way you sobbed his name made him smirk, his sadistic eyes now on yours. “Aw, is it too much?” He mocked you, his fingers curling just to torture you. You whined, your eyes pleading for mercy. He didn’t have much to give, but he also didn’t have much self control, either. “Ah, you’re right, we can do better than this. Now, should I stuff your dirty mouth, or your soakin’ pussy?”

You pulled your lips into a pout, your eyes big as you stared up at him, as soft gasp pulled from your lips when his fingers left you. You swallowed, the thought of choking on his cock temping your mind, but fuck, you just wanted him to take you, right now.

“I just.. I want you inside me.”

“‘Course you fuckin’ do.” He pulled you off the wall, his grip tight on one arm to keep you standing as he searched around the small walkway. His eyes landed on a table in the corner filled with photo portraits. He was dragging you to it, his free arm knocking over everything on the table before he effortlessly hoisted you onto it. 

He kissed you again as he tore your jeans off your legs all the way, along with your panties, tossing them somewhere behind him to be forgotten. Your shaky hands focused on his clothes next, shoving his jacket off his shoulders and reaching down to unbuckle his belt. His hands joined yours, since you were taking too fucking long fumbling around with his zipper. He shoved his jeans down his thighs just enough, not bothering to take them off all the way. Parting from his lips, you attempted to pull his bloodied shirt over his head, desperately craving to feel his skin. He didn’t deny you, his shirt getting tossed along with his jacket somewhere. 

You didn’t stop him when he pushed you on your back, body flat on the surface and your legs dangled over his torso. Your slick cunt was on full display for him, and he very much appreciated the visual of his doing. He leaned down the slightest bit, forcing your knees to damn near touch your chest as he freed his cock from his boxers. He exhaled sharply, his neck craning to the side as he held back the deep urge to just shove his cock inside you. 

His eyes met yours for a second, a shit eating grin on his face before he looked down to watch as his cock slowly sank into you, disappearing inch by inch within your tight walls. Your jaw fell open, a silent cry leaving you at the sting of his cock. A curse left your lips, eyes screwed shut as you dug your nails into the wooden table beneath you. 

“So fuckin’ tight. Fuck.” He grunted, the sound settling deep within his chest. His pace was grueling from the start, the second he was inside you he was drilling into you. He watched your face with big eyes, lips slightly parted as he reveled in your pain. ”I wanted it so bad. Thought about splitting this pussy wide fuckin’ open all night. Fuck.” 

Sobs spilled from your lips, a string of uh-uh-uh’s filling the empty house. You tried to crawl up the table, give yourself some room from his rough hips at first, but he didn’t particularly appreciate you trying to run away from him. He used his body weight to keep you pinned to the table as he leaned over your body further, his chain now dangling over your face as if to mock you further. 

“Aw, is my cock too much? You can’t take it? You asked for it,” he spat the word accompanied by a particularly sharp thrust that made you cry out. “Please Frank, it hurts.” He mocked your voice, his face above yours. He brought a hand to squeeze your cheeks between his fingers as you nodded tearfully. But you couldn't bring yourself to even try to tell him to stop, let alone try to run away this time, ultimately the pain coursing through you dissolving into blissful pleasure. “Good. I hope it fuckin’ hurts. That’s what a slut like you deserves.” 

With each spiteful word he spat, the intensity of his actions increased. But god did it feel absolutely delicious to be railed this way. You had never felt this way before. So intensely consumed by pleasure and pain that you cried. Tears fell from your eyes just as freely as sobs of pleasure fell from your lips. Frank was more than happy to hear them all. He fucking reveled in it. His lips pulled into a mocking pout at the sight of your tears, but the sight only made his cock twitch. He leaned down to your face, tongue sticking out to lick your tears.

You were shocked, eyes wide and mouth open, but you were more shocked at yourself, at the fact that you liked it. You were covered in blood, not even your blood, he was covered in blood, everyone else was dead and yet here you were, taking his cock like that was your only concern in this world. And the worst part was, you didn’t even mind it all that much. “Ugh, fuck. This is so fucked up.” The words left your lips in a haze, an unconscious thought as your back lifted off the table, a burning heat settling deep within you. You didn’t expect him to hear you. But how could he not? He laughed, his forehead pressed to your wet cheek.

“But you don’t want me to stop, do you?” He pulled back to look at your face, head tilted at you as his hand fell to your neck and his fingers gripped your throat, but he didn’t quite squeeze. He grinned at the way your eyes rolled back as you shook your head as best as his grip allowed you to. “So much for not wanting my hand on your throat.” 

He mocked you once again, laughing at the irony. He remembered your words from much earlier in the night--I swear if you put your hand on my throat next I will cut it off. A twisted smile formed on his lips at the thought, his fingers tightening around your throat. He wondered if you still had your switchblade on you. Would you stab him if he squeezed too hard? He would probably enjoy it if you did. 

You weren’t sure when the air started to leave your lungs, or when the room started to spin. You were dizzy, blood rushing to your face as his fingers dug into your neck. You weren’t sure what you felt more, the bruising around your throat or his cock bruising your cervix. Either way, the feeling was unbearable, overwhelming. You could feel consciousness start to leave you, your chest heaving with panic. Would he keep fucking you even if you passed out? You guessed it wouldn’t matter too much to him if you did. All you were hoping for is that you didn’t pass out before your release. Your pulse slowed, he could see it. It amused him to watch the way your heartbeat slowed, your face untwisting as you slowly slipped. His fingers released your throat, a loud gasp leaving your lips as your head spinned. 

“Fuuck—God—Fu—” breathy incoherent words spilled from your lips, your thoughts blurred as you came. The thought of someone pushing your limits to such extreme, it pumped adrenaline through your veins, rushed dopamine through your fucked up brain. You clung to him, nails dragging down his back as you turned into a shaking, sobbing mess. 

“The fuck was that? Shit, did you just come?” Frank asked, a laugh of disbelief leaving him as he looked down to see his cock glistening with your release as he slipped in and out of you with ease.

“Mhm!” You nodded, only a high pitched noise leaving you, too incoherent and cock-drunk to even form a thought. You expected him to slow down at some point, for his relentless movements to falter, but somehow the thought of you falling apart without even so much as a warning got him going even more.

“Who the fuck said you could do that, hm?” He spat, a grunt leaving him as he rutted his hips against you. The sting of his cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your cervix. You whined, attempting to ground yourself with a grip on the table. You could hear the frail wood creak under you. 

“Frank—” You warned him, attempting to sit up to take some weight off the table, but it didn’t make much of a difference, the small table finally breaking under Frank’s harsh movements. You expected to hit your head on the ground, and you braced yourself for it, but you only felt the impact on your back. 

One of Frank’s hands held the back of your head, cradling it almost, the other was braced on the floor as he tried to take as much of the impact as possible. You heard him laugh next to your ear and you groaned, cursing at him under your breath.

“Motherfucker, I’m not a goddamn ragdoll.” You groaned, wincing softly as you lifted your back off the broken wooden chunks beneath you.

“Shit, my bad. I’ve never fucked while being a vampire, alright? I don’t know how this shit works.” He shrugged, unbothered as his cock still sat hot and heavy inside you. He looked at you, eyes playful as his lips curved into a grin. “You okay?”

“Uh yeah, think so.”

“Good. Up you go then.” You didn’t have time to ask him what he meant, before your brain could process it, he was moving you both around. He sat on the back of his knees as he sat you on his lap. Not that you would do much up there, but he figured it’d be less painful than the hard cool floor. 

He wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you against his chest. He grabbed your face with his other hand, pulling you to meet his eager mouth as he snapped up his hips. He swallowed the sound he enticed from your throat as your body bounced in his grip. You threw your arms over his shoulders, holding on to him for dear life as he split you open with his cock—again. You couldn’t believe you already wanted to come again, shameless sobs spilling from your throat as your chest heaved, heart pounding so loud you swore you could hear it. Were vampire pheromones a thing? Not that you could actually think of anything right now, not with how good he was making you feel. 

“Oh, I know what that means. You wanna come again, huh?” He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers how he liked to do. You were nodding, eyes big and watery with tears. He found it so amusing how easily he could make you go from all talk and attitude to pathetic and fucked out. And deep down, you liked it, too. It was often exhausting to pretend all the time. “Oh, I know, baby. I want you to come all over my cock again.”

And it wasn’t a request, he slipped his hand between your bodies and your head fell on his shoulder, gasping softly when pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. You didn’t have to think too hard, the painful stretch of his cock was enough, but the second he played with your clit you were done for. You were sobbing as your third orgasm hit you, tears spilling from your eyes once again.

“Aw, well aren’t you a good girl? C’mere, look at me,” his hand left your sensitive clit to lace around your hair forcing your head up. His eyes were on yours, tongue licking over his razor sharp teeth as he fucked you through your high, now chasing his own. “You want me to fill you up? That’s what you wanted, right? Just wanted me to take you and use you like some whore? Well you better fuckin’ take it like one.”

His name fell from your lips quietly, almost pleading as he forced your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, your ripped up shirt long forgotten in the mindless dance of clothes. You knew what devious thought was in his head, and like you read his mind, he sunk his teeth into your flesh. A strained whine left your throat, your fingers digging into his back as he savored your blood. He groaned, riveting in the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock as he fed. And it was that sweet taste of your blood that made him fall apart. A deep grunt settled in his chest as he spilled inside you, only releasing your shoulder when he felt his release seep out of your cunt.

A shaky gasp left your lips when he let go, a feeling of relief sitting on your chest when he didn’t suck you dry. You had fully expected him to feed until your body was lifeless. Ultimately he had already fucked whatever this was out of his system. But he didn’t. He gave you no time to comment on this, without a word he kissed you, your blood still coating his mouth. 

“Ugh, Jesus,” you grimaced, blood now coating your lips. He smirked at you, lips parted to flash you his teeth as he took in the way your face twisted in disgust. Still tangled up in each other, still clinging to him on his lap, you watched as swiped his finger over the streak of blood dripping from your shoulder. And your eyes never left him as he savored the taste of you, his chest rising and falling with delight. A strange feeling sank in your chest as your senses returned to you, and you suddenly felt painfully self-aware. “Are you going to finish feeding off me now that you got what you wanted?”

“You truly are a dumb little girl, huh?” He mocked you, laughing softly, a second laugh erupting from his chest at the way you narrowed your eyes at him with a glare. “If I had wanted to kill you I would have. You’re not the only pussy in this city y’know.”

“You are such an asshole.” You rolled your eyes, the intimacy and the slight bit of vulnerability in the moment slipping from you, and you aimed to get up, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed and flustered. But he didn’t allow you to. He kept his arm on your torso and he gripped your face between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“And you’re a fuckin’ brat. Now that we have established that, I think we can come to an understanding. We’re the only ones left for a reason, so let’s take advantage of that, yeah? If you let me, I’ll take care of you.” 

You wouldn’t mind that. You wouldn’t mind that at all. You were an adrenaline junkie afterall, and what could be more adrenaline inducing than fucking a new-turned vampire?

“I think we could figure something out.”

[sturnwritess]

Is it Casual now?

warnings: angst, cussing, crying, drinking, bit of smut.

pairing: mattsturniolo x femalexreader

summary: you and matt have been “friends” for a long time, to him u were just another girl that he deeply loved, and him to you was everything u wished for.

a/n: i know this song is for wlw but i wanted to use it for the story.

———————————————————————————————————————

10:26 pm

“fuck matt” you say, his tongue is in your walls as he’s eating you out. He looks up at you with his beautiful blue eyes, he smirks against your pussy making his ego even bigger. You’re currently in the back of your car and the windows are getting foggy. “im mh about to cum” you say breathless, “go ahead pretty girl” he says and that tips you over the edge. once you both got cleaned up, “can you drive me to a restaurant?” he asks.

“i was wondering if we could hangout?” you ask, he looks at you “i thought this was just a hookup though but i gotta get going my mom invited me to dinner” he says not looking at u playing with his hands. “oh ok which restaurant?” you ask looking at him. He looks up “uh yellowbricks on blackstone” he says.

You’re almost to the restaurant and you pull into the parking lot, “my mom also wants to see you, so can u come in?” he ask staring his eyes into yours. “uh yea ill go see your mom.” you say looking away, you got out of your car and walk into the restaurant. You and matt spot jimmy, marylou, chris and nick, you walk up to the table and say hi to everyone.

“y/n why dont you join us?” marylou asks, “she actually has to go mom” matt says looking up at you. “oh yeah i have this thing marylou im so sorry maybe another time?” you say, “of course just text me on facebook to let me know!” she says smiling. “ok. i will, nice to see everyone bye!” you say as you’re leaving. You feel like a burden to matt as you walk out, you get into your car and suddenly matt walks out.

He knocks on your window, “hey uhm i left my jacket in your backseat” he says “ oh ok the doors are unlocked.” you look at the backseat as he grabs it, tears dwelling in your eyes. He notices “hey are you ok pretty girl?” he asks “mhm” u say looking away, he grabs your chin “i hope this isnt about me saying your busy.” he looks at u with his brows furrowed.

“its not matt” you yank his hand off your chin, he furrows his brows “we agreed this was casual” he says. you nod and roll up your window, he walks away with his jacket in his hand and his grip so hard his knuckles were white. “casual” starts playing by Chappell Roan, you feel the tears trying to drip away from your eyes. you just started driving home, but all you could think of matt.

flashback

“thats the best time we’ve ever had sex and i mean it” he says looking into your iris, “whatcha thinking about pretty girl?” he asks. “oh nothing just like us what we are” you say still staring into his mesmerizing eyes, “you’re my everything y/n” he says. you giggle looking away, “you’re my everything too matt”.

end of flashback

you grip onto the steering wheel trying not to cry, but the tears escape your eyes and u cant help but let out sobs. you try not to think of how good you and matt used to be, but now you think back it was just casual. it hurts your stomach so much thinking about it, how everything happened and why. he was just a boy you banged on your couch but, damn him for making you feel like this.

day later

matthew❕

hey y/n

do you want to hangout?

i see you reading my texts

please dont leave me on read

dont be like this please

im coming over

read 10:19 am

you continue sobbing into your comforter and bury yourself, you soon hear your doorbell ring and you cant bring yourself to get up and see his face. so you just ignore the sounds but they dont stop, for a second they stopped and then got louder. you groaned not even bothering to brush your hair or wipe way the tears, you walk down the stairs and go open the door.

you open the door and his eyes soften once he sees your red eyes and tear stains on your cheek, “can you stop staring matthew?” you say looking away “yeah m’sorry”. “did you leave something or want to say something? you clear your throat saying. “cmon we agreed that no feelings attached y/n” he says, you close the door behind him.

“how was i suppose not to?” you ask, he looks away “you said i was your everything matt!” you say as anger arises inside of you “i know i know but please dont be mad because- you cut him off “no i get to be mad matt because you said we were casual but people who are casual dont say shit like that!” you scream.

“please dont say what you dont mean y/n” he says, “we should just end this whatever this is.” you say as a tear slips down your cheek. “no no please y/n i need you!” he says as his eyes dwell with tears, “no you need someone who loves you and i thought i could give that to you but i really cant because you wont give it back or say some stupid shit like this is casual matt”.

“i didnt mean it please please dont do this” hes screaming in sobs, your heart breaks at the sight but you knew this had to be done for his sake and yours. “please matt dont make this harder than it is.” you put his head into your chest as you say. hes sobbing into your chest and every time you feel his tears slipping a piece of your heart shatters.

“i really did love you matt and i mean it.” you say as you bring his head up to meet your eyes, “please i dont want to lose you please please just dont do this”. he says and with that you kiss his forehead “matthew you need to go baby please.” you say. “can you hold me one more time y/n” he asks as his eyes are practically red and tears drip down each time.

“yes matt come here” you say as you bring him to your chest, you felt as time froze around you but the reality matter more than the fantasy you pictured. “okay sweetboy its time to go.” you say removing your arms from him, “i loved you too y/n” he says as he brings your face in his hands and kisses your forehead. “do you think we could ever be soulmates in another universe?” he asks looking at you.

“god i hope so” you say looking at him as he walks out your door. you both knew that was the last time he would ever enter and leave your house. you both loved each other just maybe in another life.

———————————————————————————————————————

hey so uhm this was really short and im sorry but i didnt know what to write lol

@sturnioloshacker @sturtriple16 @mattscoquette @mattybsgroupie

[killuintense]

OMG, I JUST READ UR STEPDAD LEON FIC AND BITCH I COULDVE BUSTED A NUT. THAT SHIT WAS PUSSY DRIPPING PERFECTION, I DONT THINK IVE EVER READ SMUT THAT FUCKING GOOD.

You’ve got MAJOR talent, oml

❝ catch us if you can ❞

stepdad!leon kennedy x fem!reader.

summary: just Leon being a very cuddly stepdad to you.

content: 1.8k words, p in v, smut, creampie, breeding kink, size kink, soft dom leon, porn with some plot i think, thinking abt do a serie abt stepdad!leon. you have another part to read if you want.

note: thank you for your words !! i haven't written in a while but your message inspired me to follow this version of the Leon that i like so much, i hope you like this little gift ;)

The headboard of your mother's bed was banging frenetic and messily against the wall of the room. If you weren't with both legs spread in such an obscene manner, you could have seriously worried about the neighbors' complaints and the problems that would mean, but, come on... there would be time to worry about that, maybe when you didn't have your stepdad fucking you with all his might against his wife's matrimonial mattress, and you weren't moaning in such a pathetic way.

Leon's cock was plunging inside you and pounding your womb with a precision that was nothing short of bringing you to the brink of starting to shed the first tears, his bare chest pressed against your tits, crushing them, while his mouth carelessly kissed yours and saliva leaked out shamelessly. His rhythm was messy and desperate, as if he sought to please you no matter what, but couldn't fight that instinct to fuck you with total selfishness as soon as he felt you squeezing him like a bitch in heat seeking to leave him without even the last drop. "Baby, baby, fu-fuck" he moaned pulling away from the kiss as the squeaking of the poor wood of the bed got louder and louder "Stop squeezing me like that, for the love of god... I swear when I cum I will fill you so full of my cum I will give you a beautiful baby" a small squealing moan came from your lips as both of his hands played with your tits squeezing and pampering them just like he knew how to do "Is that what you want, love? To be fucked so hard then swell these beautiful tits even more, don't you?" inevitably your legs trembled at his tone of voice and your hands clutched at his back, clawing at him in the same rhythm as his balls hit your skin hard and his fingers were soaked with the juices you slowly started to produce being close to your orgasm.

"Leon!" you moaned desperately "Da-daddy, please, I'm going to cum, stop it!, I-" he deep chuckle was heard as it mingled with his guttural moans as he felt himself suffocating inside you because you were at your limit inevitably bringing him to his. And, fuck, it would sound fucked up to him but it warmed him up so much to hear you calling him 'daddy', with that soft and aching little voice, like a little kitten looking for his caresses no matter what. For that very reason he paid no attention to you, and his onslaught became more and more erratic and didn't stop even though a scream of pleasure made itself in your throat as you felt that heat in your abdomen dissipate and expand into a strong orgasm, squeezing with your legs around his hips so that he stayed pounding into that sweet spot inside you. Even Leon should have used a condom, but that feeling he got from cumming at the same time as you and having hot spurts of cum fill his girl completely drove him crazy whenever you fucked, the idea that even when you both pulled away his essence would still be in your body.

"Shit, babe" he grunted, penetrating you one last time until he felt his base was completely inside you, thus being able to see the tip of his cock hit your stomach and protrude slightly, causing you to spasm hard as a consequence of having fucked you even through your orgasm. He was sweaty and felt heavy against you, sinking into your neck as you tried to regulate your breathing and he the same, gently kissing your skin with marks from his mouth. You felt his two-day-old beard prickle and tickle, stealing a chuckle from under you.

"You kind of have a lot of beard already, don't you, old man?" you joked and ripped a chuckle from him causing him to settle into your side, slowly pulling out of you. Inside you and without wanting to admit it out loud that puzzled you, feeling that annoying emptiness that meant not having him inside you. He was always so thick, big, filling you up and making you feel complete.

"I thought they were one of the things that made me charming" he replied, stealing an exaggerated sigh jokingly from you as your hand stroked his dull golden hair. His forehead still had hairs softly sticking to it from sweat and his mouth wouldn't leave your side, now kissing your shoulder softly.

You couldn't remember when it had become so normal between the two of you. At what point you stopped feeling so much guilt and stopped avoiding each other out of embarrassment giving way to simply letting things flow. Although the first few times they wanted to avoid the desire to be together, avoiding each other in the corridors of the house, or arriving late for dinner so as not to see the three of them together at the table, in the end they always ended up meeting in one way or another in the bedroom kissing and ending up fucking. It was inevitable, they could not avoid that things went up a notch with the need to touch each other more and more, to suck, bite, lick, kiss each other's body without fear of being discovered.

There was something in Leon that made you look for him when you felt bad, overwhelmed by your problems, maybe that helpful way of doing things and protecting you, of laughing with you at night while he hugged you and kissed your hair sweetly, that nice way of just being with you without the need to do or say anything. Like that moment where he had you cuddled on his chest, with that warmth flowing from his skin as they talked about whatever the fuck they were talking about during the day. That soon he had to go on one of his stressful work missions and he would miss you, and you asked him to bring you a souvenir like he always did, trying not to get too emotional worrying about what it would mean to be without him for so many days.

However, before you wanted to continue talking, the door to the main entrance opened, creating noise downstairs. Your mother had returned earlier than expected.

You both jumped out of bed and quickly grabbed your clothes from the floor which luckily were nothing more than a t-shirt and your panties, looking confused at each other. One look was enough to know that you just had to quickly lock yourself in your room; you didn't think much about it in fact, and before locking yourself in you watched as Leon arranged the unraveled sheets and put on his clothes as quickly as he could. Your mother's voice began to be heard as she came up the stairs and by then you locked the door to your room to make sure you didn't get any surprises. You began to despair, you didn't know exactly what to do and worse, you didn't know what Leon was supposed to do. You stuck your ear to the wood of the door, which luckily was thin enough to hear what was happening on the other side.

"Leon, honey, I'm back!" your mother said once she was upstairs, the shower head could be heard falling lightly and your stepfather's voice sounded muffled as he let her know he was showering. As always, a man of effective plans. "Oh, I understand, honey, thank you for taking my advice and opening the windows, the room needed airing out" she told him and you thanked God for making him a man attentive to detail, as the smell of sex was going to be all too evident, ever since you woke up that morning Leon hadn't let you rest for a second. It was morbid to think that in the same bed where your mother was relaxed right now, a few minutes ago you were having the best orgasm of your life... with her husband.

Interesting.

Seeing that they were out of danger and calmer, you changed and a few minutes later you went out to greet your mother, with the excuse that you were too busy with college work to go out to greet her. And everything continued normally, Leon came out showered and dressed in new clothes (clothes that did not have your sweet perfume impregnated in them), greeting her affectionately with a kiss and a hug, and you caressing your hair as if it were a father to his daughter, surprised for not having seen you all day, according to his words. No ulterior motives. A happy family.

It was midnight and silence lay in the house, everyone was in their respective rooms and you were boredly flipping through the various channels offered by your television. You were about to continue on your interesting task of lounging around when your door was softly knocked and Leon's voice was heard on the other side, asking your permission to enter. You laughed internally, reminding yourself of the first time you were together. "Come in, silly" you laughed, and he appeared, closing the door behind him, with that soft, charming smile on his face. He was in his pajamas, apparently they had gone to bed a while ago but for some reason he decided to show up in your room (not that it bothered you at all, as it was customary for it to happen).

"Hey..." he mumbled not so loudly so as not to create disturbing noises and wake your mother from her deep sleep, approaching your bed at a lazy pace "Is there space for one more?" he asked and you laughed, leaving a gap next to you big enough for him to get in even though, as always, you loved that feeling of being squashed in like a big bear. "I'm sorry it all happened so abruptly today, you know how it is..." you could feel the tone of guilt in his voice, not so much for what they were doing, but for making you feel displaced in a way. And the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like he just wanted you to hang out for a little while, and then just kick you out of the room.

"You know that I know how things work, Leon, I'm not a little girl" you said letting his arms wrap around you, making your cheek squish into his fluffy pecs. You planted a soft kiss there and bit down, making him chuckle softly at the gentle tickle.

"Sure, you're not a little girl, though you keep biting me like one" he chided with that loving tone that you could easily mistake for paternal if it weren't for the fact that he was planting soft kisses on your lips, caressing you as if you were going to break "You know I love you, don't you?" he blurted out amidst the wetness of your mouth, and if it weren't for the darkness of the room he could easily notice the blush all over your face "More than I love anyone, you're my girll" your heart felt soft and warm, a sense of home and protection that only he could bring to it. You would be lying if you said that a feeling of pride and superiority came over you knowing that you were what Leon loved the most.

"And I love you more, even if you crush me whenever we sleep together" you pinched the side of his abdomen and he laughed deeply burying himself in your neck with devotion as he breathed in as much as he could of you, all your scent, all your essence that made him feel alive, warm and loved. All those nights you were together, with or without clothes on, he wouldn't trade them for anything or anyone. Because, almost as if it were madness, you had taught him that way of loving without limits in an almost unconscious way. And he would take care of you no matter what.

[corvidae-00]

Ocean eyes

A/n: Helloooo!! This is actually the start of a series I have been thinking about doing! ill still be taking requests and doing stuff in between but I used to do long stories and I wanted to see if I was still able! thank you for reading!!!

Summary: You and Marko had grown up together, and him asking you to be a part of this journey was an amazing opportunity, flying over to Sweden with him and making sure your focus was on the competition. little did you know how quickly landing in Sweden with a certain blonde roaming around would change the directory of your plans C/W: Swearing, smoking, alcohol, slight mentions of blood, mentions of angst, fem!Reader Word count: 1,229

Chapter 1

slowly opening your eyes you wince, the bright sun shining in through the small plane window "Now landing in Malmo Sweden" The pilot announces to the plane, clearly tired and not as energetic as when you and your good friend Marko had gotten onto the plane. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stretching you look over at Marko who is still out cold with his head back and snoring slightly "Markooo~" You hum quietly causing the man to only stir and groan not ready in the slightest to wake up "Mark" You poke him in the arm and he whines "Three more minutes" He mumbles and you poke him again in the side causing his body to jolt upright "Hey!" he yelps and snaps his head to look at you in pure shock

"to je bilo vrlo nepristojno!" (That was very rude!) Marko whines but you cant help the small giggle that leaves your lips at the pouty grown man next to you "you weren't gonna wake up" You defend yourself "And look! we are landing!" You add on pointing outside at the quickly approaching ground "wouldnt want you to miss that" You tease a little and Marko quickly spares you a playful glare "Remember you are with me this whole trip- I could make it hell-" He hums wagging his finger at you. scoffing you push his hand away "I just wont dance for you- maybe I'll join Ireland!" you tap your chin and Marko gently swats your arm "Dont even play with me like that žena (Woman)"

Once you two had exited the plane and made sure your belongings were accounted for you had caught a taxi and headed straight for the hotels Eurovision had reserved for the singers and performers, being lucky enough to secure a room right next door to Marko's- not exactly wanting to be separated before the event even starts, Gathering information that the arena would open tomorrow for rehearsal time slots so each performer could sing or dance and grow used to the stage and/or size of the stage "This is pretty cool!" Marko pushes his sunglasses on top of his head and smiles over at you "Are you excited? I'm excited" He looks around and you nod with a laugh "I am pretty excited for the opportunities and the experiences" You hum heading towards the elevators with your friend ready to get settled happy to listen to him tell you about all the plans he has The next day you and Marko had gotten ready and headed straight for the Arena, fully dressed up and still getting used to the outfits. Fixing your top and adjusting your hair piece you hum "These are pretty useful and flexible thank the Lord" You sigh looking over at your male dance partner who seems just as pleased with the uniforms "I do agree! Though I wish we had time for breakfast" Marko rubs his stomach and you sigh "and maybe if it were a bit warmer" You hook onto his complaints....Getting closer to the stage you all can make out some upbeat music and it grabs all three of your attention "Thats catchy-" Your partner says and you nod "Damn it is-" You get closer trying to make out the lyrics "Euro-pa-pa-papapa-" comes through and you raise a brow "interesting" You all quietly entered and finally got a look at the singer clad in a large blue suit and his backup in a large blue bird suit and the other in similar attire to the singer but toned down

"Must be the Netherlands!" Marko whispers to you showing you the schedule on his phone and you smile a little watching the man dance around the stage clearly loving every second of his performance and putting his all into even the rehearsals "impressive" You smile watching the rest of his performance.

With a wave the man on stage thanks the workers and exits towards your group with his tailing him. "Wonderful performance friend!" Marko waves and the male smiles "Thank you! Im Joost" He puts out a hand and Marko shakes it eagerly "Ah! I'm Marko! Or Baby Lasagna" He chuckles and points over at you and your partner who is watching in awe "Those are my dancers!" He waves you two over allowing you to introduce yourselves "What a crew you have!" Joost hums his gaze landing on you and he smiles "the uniforms are awesome!" He compliments and Marko's eyes light up "Yours are too! The band members should be here too soon and they have sorta the same get up" Marko explains and Joost nods before nodding to the side "Well, I'll get going! Good luck!" He gives a small wave and a huge smile before looking you over one more time and making his exit

"He seemed too enjoy your costume" Your partner jokes and you cant help but elbow him in the side "literally just met him-" You remind and your partner shrugs "Doesnt mean you aren't a sight to see" He chuckles following you onto the stage once you had been called on, the rest of the band showing up just in time dressed up and just as hyped up as everyone else....

After a long day of dancing, singing, and repeating- followed up with sight seeing, shopping, and whatever else the group had wanted to do you all finally made it back to the hotel. "Wow, Sweden is so beautiful!" Marko claps his hands together holding a few bags he himself had picked up "a great place to hold an event so large" You chuckle looking around the lobby, your eyes landing on the blonde from this morning- Joost? He has his eyes on you, dressed a lot more relaxed and comfortable "Hey, I'll catch up Marko!" You call to your friend who nods "Bring up some drinks if you can find any pretty please!" Marko says with a quick wave before making his way to the elevator.

"Hello" You walk up to Joost who smiles a little "Hallo" He hums reciting your name with a raised brow and you nod "Joost correct?" You tilt your head and the Dutchman nods "Your guises performance, it was so cool!" Joost pushes himself off the wall and smiles down at you "I loved the choreo too! felt like a story was definitely being told" he hums and you chuckle "Yeah? Marko was set on definitely getting people involved" You shake your head "I loved your performance! so full of emotion and energy!" you shrug "I can tell you are going to be a fan favorite" you wink and Joost gasps a little "You really think so??" he gets all bashful and you nod "Oh 100% we don't have a rehearsal time tomorrow, do you? Maybe I'll pop in and watch the full thing" You offer and Joost nods quickly "10!" He responds and you smile "Ill be there!" You promise and Joost quickly pulls out his phone "Would you like my number? Just so I can keep you updated?" He shakes his phone and little and you pull yours out with a nod "That would be helpful!"

After sharing contact info you two had bid your goodbyes, Joost heading back to his room leaving you in the quiet abandoned lobby- Maybe this will be a good trip after all

A/N: A little slow- but next chapter will get exciting!! Sorry for the small chapter I'll try to make future ones a little more wordy!! thank you for reading!! Im going to work on requests for a little and once I get those out I'll update this!! Thank you all for the love and support- it literally makes my days seeing how many likes and reposts I get. it means more than all of you know <3 I LOVE YOU ALL!!!