#still beautiful in whatever shade of pink you are girl

[rattschmooze]

remaster of excellent

[mooncleaver]

Love Is The Reason

ღ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, familial fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

ღ warnings: MAJOR JJK268 SPOILERS. pls don't read if you don't wanna know!! slightly cannon divergent

What the hell.

His ears didn't stop ringing as he brought his body up from its position on the surprisingly soft surface, feeling every ache known to man throbbing all over. Megumi felt the cosmic numbness ebbing away like a flash, and suddenly, he could discern the warm cotton wrapped around his upper body along with the linen sheets that lay beneath him. The three—out of many—scars on his face pulled his skin tautly, so close to his eyes where that devil's face wore his for however long this limbo period was. It hurt to open his eyes. Well, it hurt to do anything, but he's thankful that he can see the world through his own view.

Megumi's ears perk up to the sound of poorly attempted hushed arguments. The sound was so familiar that for once in his life, he was relieved to hear it. To feel that irritation ticking in his chest, the mindless crease that's fully starting to make itself known on his forehead and that growing scowl—he could truly cry at the return of bodily autonomy.

Nobara was trying to fit herself inside a present-shaped cardboard box while Yuji stood next to the thing, pushing down the lid on top of her head, which ruffled the strands like crazy. Of course, the girl would not stand for this butchering of her beauty. She spent a lot of time trying to look presentable. Not that this pink-haired fool would understand.

Megumi is hit with a deep sense of dejavu as he sits up against the headboard, looking back at the memory of Gojo doing the same exact surprise tactic to announce that Yuji was, in fact, not dead after his literal heart got ripped out of his chest. The boy can feel a smile forming on his lips, and he makes no move to try and stop it.

"What are you two doing?"

He sees Yuji and Nobara freeze in their spots, both eyes widening comically. A second passes before the two let go of whatever it was they were contending about, rushing forward to stick their faces into Megumi's. The former vessel looks—well, he looks like he's had better days. He's thankfully clean of all the blood oozing out of his skin when he fought Sukuna for the last time, his usual uniform with the red hoodie looking incredibly pristine, absent of any rips or blood. Still, some are sticking onto his face, notably a darker shade cutting down across his eyebrows as the dried blood clings onto his wounds. Nobara looks happier. God, he thought she died. He was ready to mourn her with all the losses he'd suffered, but for once, Megumi was glad to hear her voice. He welcomes it. She's wearing a black eyepatch on top of the eye that she lost fighting Mahito, and her uniform is equally as clean as Yuji's—Megumi can tell that she's relieved by that fact.

Finally, they're back together again. The trio of first years with lost dreams who've gone through horrible, terrible things now have found hope again—hope that never died within each other.

"Fushiguro!!" The two yell in unison, going in to hug him despite knowing he didn't usually like that kind of thing. But to their honest surprise, Megumi returned the gesture, fully and truly, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. Yuuji and Nobara didn't hesitate to tighten their arms around the spiky-haired boy, be damned the near-death exhaustion clinging to their bones. They may be battered and bruised, but they survived.

After a quiet moment, the momentum was back again as Nobara looked at the two boys with a disgruntled expression, her exaggerated self on display at the lack of reaction to her return. "You know, the class's Madonna, who everyone thought was dead, by the way, turned out to be alive?! You two should be either wetting yourself or crying with joy!"

Megumi didn't even bat an eye, unlike Yuji, who was scrambling out of his mind, replying to her in his usual stoic and flat voice. "I see. My bad."

"So, the bastard is dead then." The Fushiguro didn't phrase that like a question, more so stating a fact. The fact that he was here in his own body, alive and breathing, undoubtedly meant that the curse was dead. It was still surreal to utter, knowing that this was the one thing they'd all been fighting for since forever. Maybe now, everyone who was gone didn't die in vain.

Nobara sounded like she was still in disbelief, shaking her head slightly while she grinned and exclaimed, "Ha! Yeah! Itadori beasted that guy like it was a piece of cake!"

"Eh.. well, it was pretty tough, I'm not gonna lie. I cried a little when resonance was hit." Yuji himself could only scratch the back of his neck at the rare praise, his eyes crinkling into thin lines as he admitted his own emotions. It was kind of daunting to be the one who killed Sukuna with the fact that he used to be the curse's vessel. But out of everything, making that final blow was something he didn't once hesitate on. Yuji was going to finish all this madness. It all started with him and ended with him—the way it should be.

Megumi didn't sound too surprised at the boy's admission, only giving him a look in response. "I know. I saw everything happening inside Sukuna."

"Ugh... don't even remind me. Well, at least you two have the shared experience of being a vessel now." No matter how sour the fact was, it was true.

Breaking his thoughts, Yuji suddenly lit up as he shifted through his pants pockets, haphazardly pulling out the crumpled pieces of paper in his hand. "Oh, wait guys. I have something for you two. It's from Gojo-sensei. Gojo-san, too, I think."

The pink-haired boy grew incredibly sullen at the mention of both his teachers. He'd miss calling out to the two Gojo's, mixing the couple up despite your previous urgings to the students of simply calling you by your first name. Of course, your husband would not absolutely have that, sneakily going behind your back and basically forcing his students to call you Gojo, too. If he couldn't get the second years to follow, he'd make his own kids do it. The man would not pass on the chance of hearing people call you by your shared last name.

"A letter.." Megumi looked shocked at the fact. His sensei (and self-proclaimed dad who stepped up) never did this kind of thing—seriously, that is.

Growing up with Gojo and his wife, Megumi knew the white-haired sorcerer never strayed away from being lighthearted and childlike. Despite witnessing the lanky heir change from the bratty 18-year-old who approached him as a child in the streets into the mature, married man he was the last time, it just wasn't in his nature to be doing some sentimental things like this. That was more like something you'd do. From the daily lunch notes, deep-meaning gifts (that he still kept to this day), and the affectionate texts you'd always send, he would wager that you might've been the one to drag your husband to write the letters. But, knowing that Gojo probably had a feeling that he wouldn't make it out of the fight, it's not impossible that this truly came from him.

Nobara chuckled at his tone of voice, silently agreeing with his disbelief. Gojo was definitely not the type to do this.. it unsettled her.

"I feel you.. this is totally not like him. It's slightly gross to even imagine him writing letters.."

Though, after reading, she crushed the piece of paper in her hand, pursing her lips. Yuji noticed this, facing her to ask what it said. With slight hesitation, Nobara revealed that it contained information about her mother's whereabouts. To be honest, she wasn't sure how to feel. Some part of her still longed to feel her love.

"Oh, did you even want to know in the first place?"

She shook her head as she looked down, leaving no room for the topic to be continued. "Not at all."

Suddenly, they heard the very, very rare sound of Megumi's laughter ringing out from the bed. Gojo would've bawled knowing he made his son laugh. It took a moment for them to snap out of the shock, seeing the fresh face of their friend's smile. He looked like a brand new person—content, young and carefree. It was refreshing.

Megumi hasn't felt this happy in a long while. He expected that the message wouldn't be some deep, meaningful thing, but out of everything, it was a joke about how he killed his biological dad. He wasn't sad, surprisingly. Megumi never really knew the man that left him and his sister to fend for themselves, and the memories he had of him weren't great. At least he found some closure. The boy shook his head, reading the familiar and large handwriting of his father figure. You'd think that it'd be messy, but as the former heir of the Gojo clan, Satoru was a trained guy in the art of handwriting. He wouldn't be caught dead with scribbles.

Unfortunately your father isn't around anymore!! Cuz I killed him!! Sowwy!! :P

Short, simple, and kind of foolish.

He bit back a grin. Even in death, the man couldn't take anything seriously.

Beneath it was a softer and more serious note. From you, of course. Megumi did not doubt that you wrote this to make up for your husband's short message, writing a heartfelt one that he could sense even before reading. The two of you must've known that this was not a fight you would come out of. And as much as that hurt him, Megumi was glad that he was in your last thoughts. It meant a lot to know that you and Gojo believed he, Nobara, and Yuji would live through everything.

Firstly, don't take this idiot too seriously. If you're reading this megs, we're probably gone, but hey, you're okay! Live your life fully okay? Don't forget that you're still a kid in the end. We're always looking out for you, sweetheart. ♡

There was a chibi doodle in the bottom and a sweet greeting that said,

— Love you beyond infinity, mom & dad

Megumi could tell that this was Gojo's handwriting. It was meant as a joke (the boy didn't call Satoru dad very often, despite calling you mom. It was kinda cringe.) but he accepted that sincerely. You two were his parents, biological or not. He loves you so much.

And he'd promise that for you. For Satoru, too, to be honest.

To live life fully.

Ever since he knew what living meant, he never intended to live a proper life. The absence of his biological father and the death of his mother left an untreated wound in his heart, altering his mind in a way that left him isolated—a recluse from the world, almost. The only thing that used to keep him going was his sister, Tsumiki. Now she is really gone. But then, everything shifted when he first saw Gojo Satoru.

It was a big change to have people to look up to. To have a mother. Megumi called you mom way before he even considered Satoru as his father figure, and it was one of the most precious things in life. You never took that for granted, always spoiling him and treating him like he came from your own womb. You knew you'd never take the place of his biological mother, but you wanted to be someone the boy could rely on in such a cruel world. It was a bit strange when Satoru first brought up the idea of raising the Fushiguro boy. You were both still 18, barely even adults with so much pressure and responsibilities. But you knew, from the moment you saw this poor boy getting dragged home by your boyfriend, that you'd love him like no other.

You and Satoru gave him and Tsumiki a home. An unlikely one, but a home nonetheless. You gave him a love like no other, an unconditional, wholehearted, and absolute kind of love, even when the two of you were struggling. It was a type that couldn't be described by words and only felt. That, along with the friendship and true family he found within Nobara and Yuji, made him realize that even if he didn't live his life for himself, there were others in the world. Other people, whether that'd be a mother, a father, a sister, or a brother could give everything meaning. A reason to keep going.

At first, he only lived for Tsumiki. To use everything he had to save her. But then he found himself living for you, for Satoru, for Nobara and Yuji. Once more, he would try again. This wasn't a chance he'd take for granted.

Reading the note made Megumi feel a kind of warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. The kind that he last felt when you hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead before everything in Shibuya happened. That was probably the last time he saw you happy and alive. The world was dull when you died. A victim of that son of a bitch curse Mahito. That was a loss like no other, so incredibly painful and numbing.

At least you died in an honorable way.

After that, he didn't know how to function. Tsumiki, Nobara, and now you. The boy felt half of his soul chip away.

Your husband was even worse. Inconsolable. Watching his wife die in front of his eyes before getting sealed the second after. When the man came out of the prison realm, anyone could tell he wasn't the same. There was no chance the old Gojo would ever return. And sure, he was still lighthearted, but Megumi could tell there was a weight in his gait—the heavy burden of the loss of his darling wife dragging down every word that came out of his mouth. He saw the sadness, longing, anger, and pure vengeance in his eyes. It never did go away. Not even when Sukuna butchered the man in half. At least now, the two of you were together in the afterlife. Megumi truly hoped that. He didn't believe much in that kind of stuff, but for his mother and his father, he prayed for a final peace to be granted.

That hope—along with the one amongst the living pushed Megumi to go on. To not just survive but to really live. Even beyond that, there were others too. His cousin, Maki, who was thankfully alive, and even Toge and Panda.

This was love. That unanswered purpose of life. It's to give love and find love in others. Love is why people do crazy things: to sacrifice the world, to sacrifice themselves. That's why he kept living even when his own dad disappeared or why he kept fighting to keep his sister alive. Love is why, despite the grief, Satoru still fought for you, for your memory, and for your efforts. Love is the reason he's alive.

And if anything, Megumi learned that when you have people in your life, you'd do anything to keep them in it. That's what you and Satoru taught him. Waking up in his own body again and greeted by the sight of his best friends—that was one of the biggest blessings he has ever received.

For his family, he would do anything.

i'm fucking crying. like actually. 3 chapters to go until this manga ends and i still can't fathom everything happening bruv

btw, this is what i imagine the letter would look like haha. half cannonical cuz it's the panel translation!! excuse my handwriting um

also sorry this isn't really proofread lol, i really wanted to post!!

dividers @cafekitsune @i-mmaculatus

[reidmania]

ethereal | s.reid

summary; spencer is in love with a girl who is in love with the world

warnings; fem reader, reader loves nature, spencer is so in love, they go camping, pretty much pure fluff tbh, i think 'angel' is used, reader is mentioned growing up going camping and being around nature, established relationships.

an; fluff. this is self indulgent bc all i want is to go camping. its really bad. i think i need it. i miss going every weekend. 1.4k words. Its one am and i felt the need to post this. goodnight my loves.

Spencer learnt very early on in your relationship that the love you had for the outdoors was very similar to the love he had for you.

Except, in an odd way – this small fact only made him love you more. You never shied away from the environment you were in; regardless of what environment it was. Whether it was on a (in his opinion) stupidly long hike on a way too hot day, the grin on your face remained the same as it did while watching the sunset on the beach on a warm summer night, when you opted on walking home at the end of the day with him rather than driving, the way you’d coo at babies, or smile at elderly people walking past. You were so intrigued by the world around you, Spencer was so intrigued with you. 

 You loved nature, you could name a flower on a walk quicker than he could, an animal hidden in the bushes; or you would ask him about whatever it was you needed to know that day, then listen curiously as he rambled about it. He had started reading more books about nature, just so when you asked, he had an answer.

Spencer loved you, more than words could ever explain. There was not a series of words in any language that could articulate the way he felt for you, and he had spent a lot of time looking for one. You loved nature. You embodied the beauty of it, and he loved you, just like you loved him. Spencer wasn’t the biggest fan of nature, not in the slightest. He could appreciate the beauty of the waterfall at the end of the hike, but in no way did he consider it worth the forty five minutes of uphill walking and the sweating. However, The smile on your face and the love in your eyes when you saw the waterfall at the end of the hike? Well that was worth it.

He had agreed to go camping with you. He had never been camping  before, but when you mumbled about how you really really wanted to go, and then rambled about how lately you couldn’t stop thinking about it – Spencer couldn’t say no, not when you subconsciously pouted at nothing when you remembered that you weren’t camping, instead in the middle of the city, curled up in a warm bed wrapped in his arms.

That's how he ended up in this position, camping out in the middle of nowhere. He had taken time off work for this, and he had yet to decide whether he loved or hated it. The greenery was easy to fall in love with, that, he understood. Large trees surrounding you everywhere, as if a barrier of different shades of deep greens to shield you away from the rest of the world.

You had picked a spot you knew well enough, oak trees surrounding, the ground covered in tall grass, bushes and flowers. Pinks and whites highlighted throughout the deep greens of the bushes. The ground where you had decided to set up the tent while the sun begun to set, flat, dirt.

He hated the fact that last night he was sleeping on an uncomfortable inflatable mattress, cold, listening to the rain pattern against the thin material of the tent, hyper aware of all the possible animals around. However, he loved the way you gasped in excitement when you saw bunnies running past in the warm orange light of the fire at night, or how you woke him up while it was still dark outside just because you wanted to watch the sunrise with him.

It was freezing, way too cold. Spencer knew a future with you, meant a future with more camping. He was okay with that, as long as next time it was not in the middle of winter. He had tugged the material of his sweater tighter around his body, hand gripping yours tightly seeking out the warmth you provided as you led him down a dirt road path. It was still dark outside, and after walking for a whole five minutes, still half asleep and groggy, Spencer began to question whether you actually knew where you were going.

“Angel” He murmured, tugging you closer by the grip he had on your hand, pausing his walking in the middle of the road. Not that it mattered, there were no cars around. There was nobody around. That, he liked. It was just you and him. Your footsteps stopped only moments after his, letting him pull you in closer as you turned your body so you were facing him. The only light, the setting moonlight.

You huffed a little, it made him smile sleepily. “Spence, we are gonna miss the sunrise if we stop” You argued, your hand squeezing around his. His heart warmed when you looked at him, slightly pleading him not to complain about this. He might of complained about a few things, the mud stuck to his shoes while trying to help you set up the tent, (Which you did most of anyways, after saying he would be better suited for glamping, which was less your style,) the bugs around that made him scratch at his arms, (Before you argued that if he had just used the bug repellent you suggest he wouldn’t have that issue) and the cold, when he complained about the cold you didn’t argue back, instead you’d just tug him closer to you.

So he complained about the cold a lot.

“Miss the sunrise? I- It's like three in the morning!” His voice went up an octave in complaint, yet full of fondness as he brought your intertwined hands to his chest, which meant you were closer. It was easier to see you when you were closer, also warmer. Maybe he just liked having you close.

You laughed, he found the sound so sweet it made his chest ache. “It's nearly five. The new moon is rising and it's getting lighter. We are almost there. I promise – Pinky promise, it will be worth it” You said, leaning up to press your lips against his cheek before tugging your intertwined hands together as you continued walking. Spencer couldn’t argue. Instead he trailed next to you. He was glad it wasn’t bright yet, in a strange way. You couldn’t see the way his smile widened when you swung your intertwined hands as you led him down the path.

He didn’t know how much longer the two of you were walking before. Long enough that the sky had lightened enough to make everything around you a bit more viewable, before he could find his voice to complain again, the shoreline came into view, over a set of sanded over wooden steps that looked like they would break any moment, however when you wordlessly walked down them, tugging him along with maybe the biggest smile he had ever seen on your face, well he followed despite the unease in his stomach.

They didn’t break. He silently thanked the above for that. If he had muttered his worry aloud, you would’ve told him you had walked down those steps a million other times, told him he worried too much then planted another kiss on his cheek. 

You trailed down the beach to a spot. The sand was almost perfectly white. When you stopped and shoved your feet into the sand, silently looking out over the waterline, where the sun had begun to rise over the horizon, watching as pretty shades of pinks and yellows shaped the sky. Spencer understood why you had decided against wearing shoes when leaving the campsite, despite his half asleep mutter about the dangers of it. 

This was your life, this was what you knew, this was what you loved.

“I love you” He spoke, breaking the carefully crafted silence of the beach. The tide was coming in, the only other noise being the waves crashing carefully. His gaze was fixated on you, while yours was on the sight in front of you. This was worth the early mornings, and freezing cold, the long walk and the worries about old wooden staircases.

Not because of the sight, but because of you, curled up in one of his knitted sweaters, despite the fact you had your own, probably warmer and much more suited for the cold weather of camping, you chose to wear his, holding on tightly to his hand. He knew you spent your childhood camping here, he knew everything he loved so dearly about you was created by the place you grew up, the place that made you, you. That was here. He loved you, and he loved it here – despite his complaints.

You turned your gaze away from the sunrise, turning to look over your shoulder. When your eyes met his, he was pretty sure the amount of love and affection in his heart was growing so much it was starting to cause him physical pain. He didn’t mind, not when you were looking at him. “I love you too.” You said, before tugging his hand to pull him to stand next to you. His hand dropped from yours, instead wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he shifted to stand behind you. Your back to his chest, his chin on your shoulder. 

It was colder near the ocean, yet he was pretty sure he had never felt more warm.

likes, reblog’s & comments are always appreciated

[manonssunset]

"COSA NUESTRA"

pairing: kim minjeong x fem!reader

synopsis: minjeong, a regular like you at the jazz lounge, decided to challenge you, unaware of what was about to unfold.

part 1 ○ part 2 [coming soon]

warnings/tags: language, suggestive, the story takes place in 1978, ending hints at nsfw content, minjeong is wearing the same outfit as the photo, heavy sexual tension, reader is kinda nonchalant help

wc: +2,5k

a/n: I was heavily inspired by my man's new album, I literally fell in love with the retro/1970 vibes, and also, minjeong in that outfit made me lose my mind. in this fic, I describe pool dynamics using specific terms. if you need some clarifications, I made a post with what everything means.

The warmth of the lounge atmosphere was a great contrast to the typical november cold weather, an atmosphere you were quite used to: young beautiful women dancing to the band’s jazz melodies, swaying their bodies to the rhythm, their partners chattering and laughing while clouding the room up with a thin layer of smoke. you passed the pool tables, the unmistakable sound of the billiard balls colliding and cristal glass clinking filling the air. you slid through the crowd and found your way to the bar, taking a seat on one of the black leather stools. 

“excuse me, could you pass me the newspaper ma'am?” you requested the gentlewoman sitting beside you, noticing the pile of papers stacked neatly in front of her. saying she was beautiful was an understatement, she looked sharp in the suit she was wearing, her tie perfectly knotted, and her vest hugged her waist deliciously. she was a regular just like you, you’d seen her before, but you’d always kept your distance, never quite summoning the courage to strike up a conversation.

she turned towards you, offering a timid smile. a shade of pink colored her cheeks, probably caused by the alcoholic liquid she was drinking. she answered “absolutely, here you go, ma'am”, extending the arm that wasn't holding the glass to grab the newspaper and handing it to you. your eyes met each other, and it felt like a spark had just been ignited between the two. 

“thank you so much.” you thanked her, smiling back. your heart beating faster, this was your opportunity to get to know her, you had to quickly think about something else to say before the conversation could end. 

“it's my pleasure,” she said softly, fixing a strand of hair behind her ear. “the pleasure is mine… may I ask your name, madam? it's not the first time I've seen you here.” you didn't know where this confidence came from but you sighed in relief when her face cutely lit up at the sudden question, her already pink cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. 

“no I don't mind, it's minjeong, nice to meet you.” she replied, shaking your hand, the soft grip lingering longer than expected, leaving you wanting more. you greeted her back, introducing yourself, settling into a comfortable conversation with the girl, getting to know each other, the newspaper long forgotten. 

“I've seen you play pool before, you're good, but I don't think you can beat me.” she suddenly challenged you, a smirk appearing on her face as she eyed you expectantly, knowing that you wouldn't let someone you just met belittle your skills like that.

“oh, you think you can beat me ma'am?” she was still giggling and repeating herself, stating that she was indeed able to win against you.

a wicked idea formed into your mind, you chuckled slightly before speaking “okay, since you're so sure you can defeat me, let’s make a deal. if you win, I'll let you do whatever you want to me, if you don't, it's the other way around, huh?”. when she grasped what you were insinuating, the face minjeong made was priceless, her smile suddenly dropped and her teasing demeanor quickly faded. you caught with your peripheral view her thighs press tightly together, sensing her newfound feeling of mixed fear and excitement. “s-sure,” she slightly stuttered.

as you two stood up to move to one of the pool tables, you realized how tiny minjeong was, not that you were the tallest or the most muscular but she just looked so easy to manhandle. and, unsurprisingly, you weren’t the only one affected by the size difference, the other girl unconsciously gulped when she had to look up to meet your gaze. “how do we determine who breaks?” she asked, grabbing a cue from the stand.

“well, since you decided to challenge me, I think it’s fair if you start, don’t you agree?” you responded, sliding your long black coat off your shoulders, hanging it to the wall, remaining in your three-piece suit. as you grabbed a cue and the triangle to rack the balls, minjeong nodded affirmatively, her eyes following your every move, exhaling through her nose and mentally preparing herself before starting the match.       

you watched her get in position, sliding the cue between her fingers, hand placed on the table, aiming at the center, taking a deep breath and shooting. a loud thud was heard and the colorful balls started rolling around on the play field, bouncing on the bumpers. it was an impressive start, she managed to pot three striped balls, the decision of the group a predictable and easy task, the advantage she had was clear.

however, that was what an inexperienced person would have thought, minjeong being the example. a more acute observation would have made her realize that choosing to pot another striped ball was going to be her downfall. sure, she was in the lead with only three balls left to pot, meanwhile you still had all seven, but the disposition made reaching the remaining spheres almost impossible. you couldn't help but smile to yourself seeing her concerned face as she realized the challenging situation she had put herself into. 

minjeong adjusted her stance, her brows furrowing in concentration. she leaned over the table, eyes narrowing as she calculated the angle. The cue hovered over the white ball, but she hesitated. her fingers trembled slightly, and she repositioned herself, then again, a growing uncertainty flickering in her movements. a bead of sweat gathered at her temple. the tension in her posture deepened. you could sense the change, the pressure of the game was getting to her. every small shift in her stance seemed to reflect her internal struggle.

you stayed silent for a moment, giving her space to gather herself, but there was something about her now: a vulnerability that had crept into her demeanor. you knew she needed help, not just with the shot but with her growing unease. you took a slow step toward her, feeling the tension between you both build in the air.

you stood behind her, close enough that she could feel your presence, yet still leaving to her the decision to close the distance. minjeong didn’t move at first, but you could tell she was aware of you, her posture slightly stiff as if unsure how to react. then, without asking, you gently placed a hand on her waist, guiding her to shift just a fraction. the contact was light but intentional, enough to make her freeze for a moment.

“let me help,” you said quietly, your voice calm, almost reassuring. there was no force in your words, just a quiet offer. minjeong took a breath, the smallest of nods acknowledging your proximity. her hesitation remained, but she didn’t pull away. as you moved your hand to gently adjust her wrist, you could feel the heat of her skin under your touch. it was subtle, but the way her body first tensed, then relaxed ever so slightly, was telling. you could feel her breath quicken, though she tried to keep it steady. 

"you know that it’s impossible for you not to foul with this layout?” you murmured, your voice low, just above a whisper. “you’re overthinking it. relax a little.” your hand on her waist shifted ever so slightly, guiding her posture, your touch light but firm enough to reassure her that you were there to steady her.

minjeong let out a small breath, her body shifting as you gently moved her hand into a more natural position. the proximity between you felt charged, the space between you both compressed with an electric tension. she didn’t pull away, even though there was a shift in the air, an unspoken awareness between you both.

"if you aim like this, you can at least pot one of your balls, you’re still going to hit one of mine but better that nothing, right?" you added softly, your voice almost a reassurance just for her. she nodded in agreement, her fingers tightened slightly on the cue, but now it felt more controlled, less uncertain. her breath steadied as she prepared for the shot. with a final, silent breath, minjeong lined up her shot once more, her body moving fluidly as she struck. the ball, as you predicted, hit one of yours but thanks to your help she was still able to pot one of hers.

now it was your time to shine, you loosen up your neck and back, grabbed your cue and got into position, aiming, shooting and changing posture repeatedly. the balls were rapidly going in one by one, you used some tricks, showing off your skills you acquired over time. potting the first six balls had been quite easy, the real challenge was the last one, you were having the opposite problem that minjeong had, one of her striped spheres was in the way to pot your seventh. the only way to escape this situation, was to try a complicated shot.

you bent over the table, aimed, calibrated the strength you would need, and forcefully shot. your eyes fixed on the ball, following its movements, hoping for the best. the trick had worked, your ball hadn’t collided with minjeong’s one, running to the other side of the table, getting closer and closer to the pocket. you were ready to celebrate when the ball started to slow down and stopped right before falling in. “damn it! It was so close!” you exclaimed, disappointed in yourself.

the other girl, who had been attentively watching you play, walked over to you and gently lifted her arm to pat your shoulder as a sign of sympathy. “don’t feel sad for one bad shot, you did amazing until now,” she reassured you, a warm feeling spread through your body making you blush. “thank you minjeong, I really appreciate it,” you replied, caressing her arm back to show gratitude. you saw her cheeks redden when she heard you say her name, averting her gaze and softly smiling. 

you were now taking in the fact that minjeong was probably going to win, it was easy, you cleared the table for her, she just needed to do some simple shots to succeed. and that's exactly what she was doing, potting her last two balls before aiming for her victory. you were observing from the other side, apprehensive of your evident losing condition, resting your chin on your hands that held the cue vertically. 

but when everything seemed to be already written, the unpredictable happened: yes minjeong did indeed pot the eight ball, but she also potted the cue ball, automatically making you the winner of the match.

as the game came to its unexpected end, a grin stretched across your face. you couldn’t help it: there was something intoxicating about this power shift. minjeong’s bright eyes flickered with frustration, then embarrassment, and the slightest hint of disbelief. she had lost. the moment was almost cinematic, the dim lighting casting a golden hue over her features. she looked... entranced, still processing the outcome.

her gaze was fixed on you, lips slightly parted. you could see the vulnerability beneath the surface. her hands hung loosely by her sides, but you could feel the tension radiating from her, like a pull between the two of you, a magnetic force that neither of you could deny. as you moved closer, her breath caught, and her body stiffened, but there was something else now: a faint glimmer of anticipation in her eyes. she bit her lip, her pupils dilating as your face came nearer.

you paused, contemplating your next move, her eyes were begging for proximity, flickering between your lips and your gaze, a slight tension building up in her shoulder as if she was anticipating your touch. her body leaned your way as a silent welcoming sign, and you took it, cupping her face gently, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your palms. the hum of conversation and laughter around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a bubble. her breath quickened. “relax, minjeong,” you murmured, your voice low, comforting, and commanding all at once. “it’s going to feel good.”

you took a deep breath, you were engulfed in the sweet scent she emanated, surely not a cheap perfume. the richness of the jasmine mixed with vanilla acting as an invisible thread that pulled you in every time she was near, a fragrance you’d come to associate with her. minjeong’s eyes narrowed, hesitation made clear by her parted lips, mouth muscles slightly twitching as she was trying to say something, but was too scared to. should she risk it all like this? her heartbeat louder as it echoed in her chest.  

a beat passed before she found the courage to whisper, almost too quietly to hear, “can you kiss me... please?” her hands, trembling slightly, found their way to your waist, pulling you in. the uncertainty in her voice made the request all the more enticing. she wanted it. she needed it. you could feel the weight of that simple plea hanging between you, thick with unspoken desire. 

you sensed some unwelcome eyes turning your way, a few lingering glances that had you unconsciously tighten the grip on her face in possessiveness, wondering if it was the right thing to continue right there. the bubble that you were both in had dissolved just for a second, you were now hyper aware of your surroundings, the laughing and clinking had become an unwanted intrusion to your intimate moment. your attention swinged back to her face, your furrowed brows trying to communicate your discomfort non-verbally to the other girl.     

you hesitated before speaking “in front of everybody? don’t you think it’s a little… dangerous?”, the question hung in the air, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you were giving her a moment to decide. she glanced around, eyes darting from yours to scan person per person, the idea of kissing you in front of so many people was suddenly very real. minjeong’s gaze flickered back to yours, a blush crept up her neck, she let out a soft laugh, more of a nervous exhale than anything else. her lips remained parted, but no words came out, just a soft hum of uncertainty. 

that was the telltale sign that your feelings were mutual. you then let go of her cheeks, you gently placed your hand on top of hers, taking her arm, fingers curling around her delicate skin. the soft warmth of her pulse under your touch was a subtle reminder of how close she was. “let’s go to the bathrooms, it’s more secluded.” you speak in a low and controlled voice, keeping the whispery connotation of your last conversation. you let the words linger just enough to make minjeong feel a heat spread through her body, making her wonder what exactly you meant by “more secluded”. 

her train of thoughts interrupted by a graceful pull on her arm, with every step you took, you drew her closer to the promise of something more. she followed without thinking, her feet moving on their own, a warm tension building within her with each step, her pulse quickening as the distance between you two seemed to shrink, leaving her breathless with anticipation.

a/n: part 2 will come out soon... 👀

[stvolanis]

TOO SWEET

PAIRINGS: the vampire Louis De Pointe Du Lac x Fem! Mortal! OC

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of blood, blood consumption, alcohol consumption, mentions of killing, mention of Lestat, no Claudia, reader is perceived as innocent, age gap, OC being turned into a vampire, inaccurate timeline probably, YES I USED LINES FROM THE SONG DONT HATE ON MY GRIND.

NSFW WARNINGS: light choking, biting, sir kink, manhandling, blood, fingering, making out, p in v, creampie, praise, overstimulation, power play, slight corruption kink? Idk

The year was 1925, 15 years after Louis had been turned into a godforsaken vampire, doomed to the harsh life of an unwilling immortality of lies and betrayal.

The dark gift was taking, the worst of its flaws and punishments being that every night you woke and walked amongst the living. The bitter feeling of no longer being mortal, and forgetting what it was once like to be a regular human amongst the crowd, rather than a predator picking out its prey in the sea of flesh.

Day after day, party after party, body after body—to be short, it was a routine. A boring one, at that.

He noticed her dress first, long and drug behind her. Baby pink in color, with periwinkle and a flamingo pink shade of flowers adorning the fabric. Diamonds glistened under the light of the expensive chandelier, and her white gloved hands reached for a deep red champagne—the vibrancy he imagined her blood would be.

A long white feather sprouted out from her mass of curls, a dark chocolate with an odd singular strip of white rooted at the front of her hair, framing her face. Where her white strand of hair was rooted almost melted down onto her face, a pale patch of skin on her forehead stood out.

Her face was decorated in moles, almost perfectly hand placed by God herself. Lips plump, parted as his enhanced hearing heard every soft breath that passed. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she scanned the room, oblivious to the bright eyes staring at her.

She was out of place. He knew that she knew she didn’t belong in a place like this, but that only lead to the question of why she was here, in a room of people money and sex hungry. The complete opposite of her.

Her voice echoed in his head, and he couldn’t help but let out a laugh. ‘I wonder if there’s cake. This drink is awful.’ How sweet. In a room of smoke and drunken men, she’s worried about eating cake.

The dark angel lurked against the walls of the extravagant room, looking at the beauty in every angle possible. A lamb. His lamb. So pure, unbeknownst to the evils around each corner she turned. ‘What is your name, girl?’ He spoke, using his mind as communication.

He visibly saw her freeze. Like her heart stopped beating in her body—not yet. Her heart would not yet stop beating. “What?” She replied, aloud, desperately looking around the room to match the voice to a face—till her eyes stopped on him.

Their eyes connected. Heat rose through her in a fiery roar, curiosity and conflict dancing in her eyes with the smallest hint of fear. Fear was normal. Humans lived off of fear, it’s was the reason for everything if you peeled away enough layers.

‘You’ve found me’ Louis smiled. She felt her heart begin to beat again. Her hands balled into fists against her dress, a wad of fabric curled into a ball. ‘How are you doing this?’ She asked, eye contact between the two never once being broken.

‘Come.’ Was all he replied. He left the large room full of lousy people, around the corridors, and out through the back. He was met with a dark alley, a rather clean one—still boxes scattered around, though. Humans we’re filthy. Like toddlers who didn’t know how to clean up after themselves.

She followed behind him till they were standing mere feet apart from each other outside in the privacy of the night. “Who are you?” She finally spoke after a long moment of silence.

“I am whatever you perceive me as. Most call me the devil.” He chuckled. The first few years after his changing, he took offense to it. Hated being called it. Pondered if he really was the Devil. He knows he isn’t now. Farthest from it.

“You’re too handsome to be considered such” she smiled, two dimples. She was genuine, not a hint of lie detected in her speech. “I ain’t got nothin’ on you.” He replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously—nervously? How peculiar.

Louis felt like a schoolboy all over again. Giddy at the compliment she gave, flush rising to his cheeks faintly over her eyes pondering over his existence. “What is your name?” She asked, her head tilted ever so slightly.

“Louis De Pointe Du Lac.” He said, pridefully. She thought for a moment—“my daddy used to go to that place you own, I’m not sure what it’s called?—” she said, urging him to finish her thought. “The Azalea. My money maker.” A charming smile graced his face.

“Maybe I should go sometime.” She said, a cheeky smile playing at her lips. Louis let out a breath of air as he softly shook his head. “Nah, that’s not the place for you, baby”

“Yeah? then what is the place for me, Mr. du Lac?” She whispered, glancing down at the bottom of her dresses as she nervously fiddled with her fingers behind her back. His hand found her chin, lifting her head to do their eyes could once again meet.

“Bright as the morning, aren’t you?” He whispered back. His voice was laced with desire, yet he was holding himself back. Louis was in fear, for the first time in a long time. He was fearful to taint the aura of innocence the damsel carried around with her. He didn’t want to have to be the one to burst her bubble. But somewhere inside of him did.

“What are you, Mr. du Lac?” She said, her tone more serious than before as her eyes swirled with curiosity. But after all, it was curiosity that killed the cat. “I’m a vampire.” He replied calmy, like it was an every day occurrence. She giggled.

“Oh yeah, then where are your fangs?” She teased. Louis quirked a brow, taken aback for a moment. His mouth opened large enough for her to watch as his fangs protruded—white, and sharp. She brought her finger to the tip of his tooth, pricking her finger.

Crimson spilled from her small wound, and her scent clouded his mind. He couldn’t have her like this—not yet. It wasn’t her time still. Louis couldn’t help himself as he gently grabbed her wrist, holding it in place as his tongue met with the pad of her finger, sufficiently licking up any traces of blood.

“Fuck—you taste like pineapple.” He mumbled, placing a soft kiss against her wound before forcing himself to pull away, again, in fear of harming her. “My name is Thérèse.” She let out a shaky breath. He knew it wasn’t from fear, but rather arousal.

His hand reached for her waist, pulling her close to his body. Her chest was flush against his, and her cleavage was on display. She looked like an angel, sent down just for him. He knew he didn’t deserve her, shouldn’t have even been able to be in her presence—yet the way she felt against him felt so right, and that feeling wasn’t something he could deny or dismiss.

Their noses brushed against each other, and their lips were mere centimeters apart. One move and they would be touching. “Thérèse.” He said. Her name sounded like velvet on his tongue, and she longed for him to say it for centuries to come. To hear him call out for her. To her.

Their lips crashed together, the kiss desperate. The metallic taste of her blood lingered on his tongue, yet it only made her all the more eager to have him. Their tongues danced together, a fight for dominance that Thérèse easily gave up. He explored her mouth, and she allowed him.

This would be the first of many things she would allow him to do. She allowed him to hold her hand delicately as he guided her through the busy roads of their town. He had a certain way about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Enchanting, almost. Alluring, maybe. Possibly a word non-existing.

His hand was cold to the touch, which Thèrése found odd, yet she had not comment to give. She was aware he was not quite human, but she wasn’t ready to accept what he was yet. Just a few moments, maybe days longer, she’d like to live in a carefree bliss. He respected and supported her unvocalized wish.

“How long have you lived here, Louis?” He sighed, glancing around at the town he’d known all his immortal life. “Forever.” He replied. “The white people are ignorant. Greedy liars, most of them. They feed off of the red district, and all the people in it.” He said.

“I made the Azalea to counteract them. Get the white mans money.” He finished. She hummed in acknowledgment.

Thèrése was Hispanic, and immigrant from overseas. A land conquered by natives with the white people invading like the Huns invaded Rome. It was tragic, being forced to move far away from all she’d known since she was 17. She was now at the ripe age of 22 years old, standing at 5’5 without shoes on.

“Was it hard?” Louis asked, glancing over at her. She quirked a brow in confusion. “Was what hard?” She asked. Louis looked up at the sky. It was dark. The way it had been for years. Darkness was now the only thing he’d ever be able to see. “Leaving your home. To travel such great lengths.”

She decided not to ponder on how he knew, in fear of messing up the content atmosphere they had created. “Yes. I left many family members and friends behind. But, I endured. For my family, I endured.” She responded, almost as if robotically.

“I was going to be forced to marry a white man named Humbert had I not left. The life I saw before me was not what I had planned, but I am grateful for the freedom I have now grown accustomed to.” She responded. She looked up at the sky with him.

“They’re beautiful.” She started. “I wish to see space. To feel the heat of the stars.” She whispered, pausing her walking with Louis next to her, close enough to have their shoulders bumping. “The stars get exhausting when you look at them long enough.” He whispered back.

“I think I could spend a lifetime looking at them.” She said, a smile gracing her lips. She looked beautiful like this, and Louis wished to remember this exact scene before him for the rest of his life. “Be careful what you wish for, Thèrése.” He responded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his clean slacks.

They walked throughout the night, hand in hand. The moonlight created highlights that emphasized their alluring features, and for the first time in a long time, Louis was in love. And for the first time ever, Thèrése was too.

They stopped at a gated entrance, and beyond it, was Louis home he hadn’t showed anyone who lived to tell. Thèrése would be the first mortal he brought to his home without killing, and she would be the last as he opened the gate, allowing her to go in first.

A small hand was placed at the small of her back, guiding her throughout the house she had entered after walking through an outside area of the house. “You live here? By yourself?” She asked him, glancing over her shoulder as her eyes wandered over the antiques of the house.

“Yeah, I live by myself now.” He said, shrugging off his expensive jacket and hanging it on a rack. Thèrése felt an unfamiliar heat spread throughout her body as she watched him loosen the cuffs of his sleeves and collar of his shirt. “Now?” She asked.

“Had a roommate. We didn’t work out. He was a cunt.” He said, walking to a table and picking up a wine glass, pouring some for himself. “I know you don’t like wine. I’m afraid I have nothing else to drink, but if you would like some then tell me.” He said, taking a sip.

Thèrése watched the way he swallowed it, visibly seeing it travel down his throat. Her eyes zeroed in on the droplet the fell from his lips—and her head was suddenly spinning with thoughts of him consuming her blood.

It must’ve been the wine she had drunken before she arrived. That’s gotta be it, right? Why else would she be having such vile thoughts?

He didn’t give her time to linger on the thought much longer as he began to unbotton his shirt, ever so slowly walking closer to her. Almost like he was hunting her—but he wasn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to hunt such a pure being.

Thèrése fiddled with the rings on her gentle fingers, watching, unsure of what to do as his shirt was swiftly removed, displaying his body. Slim, yet fit. She longed to trace over every piece of him, to memorize Louis inch by inch so she wouldn’t forget this very night.

His hands reached out to her. One placed delicately on the base of her neck, and the other, roughly pulling her body to his by her waist. Her breath got caught in her throat, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself from glancing down at his lips.

“Louis…” She said breathlessly. He could feel her heat radiating off of her, especially from where his hands were touching her body. He could smell the slick between her thighs he knew were meaty under her dress. “Need this off of you.” He said, tugging at her dress.

“You gon’ let me take it off you, mama?” He asked, gently as he searched her eyes for an answer. “Please.” She said, almost desperately, making her face flush in embarrassment. Louis laughed at her eagerness.

He removed her dress from her body, following with her gloves. She covered her breasts with her hands shyly, laced panties still on. Her dress was pulled at her feet and Louis removed her hands from covering herself.

Thèrèses’ nipples hardened under the rather cold air of his odd home. Louis hands cupped them, inspecting them with such admiration. “So pretty. So fuckin’ pretty.” He said, kissing a mole above her areola, down to where her perk nipple was.

He suckled it harshly into his mouth, massaging the other with his free hand. Thèrése whimpered at his assault on her nipple, watching as he switched to the other one. His tongue reached out to kitten lick her nipple as he held eye contact with her.

Thèréses’ thighs squeezed together as the burn between her thighs grew uncomfortably. “You gonna let me have you?” He asked, trailing one of his hands down to her panties. He kissed along her neck, all the way up, till he was at her mouth again.

“Yes, Louis.” She mumbled. Louis clicked his tongue. “Try again.” He urged. He pushed her panties to the side, slowly sliding in one of his slender fingers. Years of pleasurable experience revealing itself as he worked at her cunt.

“Y-Yes, sir. Oh—Oh god.” She whimpered out as she felt another finger prod at her entrance. Two of his fingers slammed into her sopping hole at an alarming rate. Thèrése felt herself grow weak in the knees, and Louis knew as he held her up. “Shh.” He whispered, his breath fanning her ear.

He slipped out his fingers and slightly bent down just enough to reach her bottom as he slightly tapped it. “Jump” he said. Thèrése jumped, wrapping her legs around Louis slender waist, and her arms around his shoulders as she buried her face into his neck, leaving small opened mouth kisses.

“So needy, aren’t you? You all needy for me?” He asked, even though he confidently knew what the answer was. Thèrése nodded her head against him, afraid her voice would betray her if she spoke and said anything.

He threw her onto the couch—not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to make her bounce slightly on the cushion. He wanted to see her bounce on him. The imagine of her on top of him trying her hardest to ride him while her breasts moved with each of her bounces made his cock twitch.

Thèrése was more overwhelmed than she had been her whole life. No one had ever seen her this bare as he took her panties off. She was ashamed to be letting him to these things to her, but she was more ashamed at the fact she grew aroused from it. Aroused from the power difference between them.

She might not have known to what extent his strength lied, but she knew he was strong. Strong enough to probably lift her with just a finger. The idea that he could bend her and use her to his liking sent a shiver down her spine of want. She needed him in every way she could have him.

Louis spread her legs apart, revealing her aching, wet cunt that looked almost painfully in need to be taken care of. Two of his fingers found their way back inside of her, working at her gummy walls as she whined and whimpered under him.

“Shh, I know. I know.” He whispered, his fingers growing more erratic. “Want you—in me, please.” She said desperately, a hand cupping his face. He was breathtaking. His thumb skillfully rubbed her clit at a slow pace, almost as if he was trying to sooth whatever pain Thèrése might’ve been feeling.

“Gonna make you feel fuckin’ amazing.” He said, pulling out his fingers. He unbuttoned his slacks and pulled them down along with his undergarments just enough to reveal his cock. Thèrése couldn’t help but just stare at it in a mix of emotions of fear, arousal, and excitement.

Fear from how intimidating it looked; long and uncut with a patch of curly hair at the top. Thèrése felt nasty as she realized just how badly she wanted to lick his happy trail. Arousal from his mushroom tip that was pulsing with desire, and pre cum leaking from his tip. Excitement bubbled as Thèrése thought about the events that were mere seconds from unfolding in front of her.

He slapped his meaty cock onto her pussy tauntingly, a wet, heavy sound, loud and prominent. She clenched around nothing, but slowly felt his tip enter her. It was a painful stretch as he slid himself in, inch by inch, trying his hardest not to hurt her.

Louis restrained himself as she clenched around him tightly. He knew this was the closest to heaven he’d ever get, with the angel under him at his mercy. His to do with whatever he pleased and saw fit. His in every aspect of her mortal, and soon immortal, being. Soul tied and bound to the earth together for eternity was the way he wanted to spend his days with her.

“Oh my God—oh fuck—” she gasped out, mouth hung slightly agape. Pain shot through her first, eyes watering as evidence, but was soon followed after with an immense pleasure she never knew she could feel. “Not God, Thèrése—Me.” He huffed as he gripped her thighs, throwing them over his shoulder.

Louis began to move his hips against her, slowly at first—then, in the blink of an eye, he snapped. The self restraint he forced himself to have was gone, and a seemingly sweet and charming man was replaced by a domineering beast.

At an inhumane pace, his cock hammered into her. His hands dug into her thighs in a tight grip—a grip so tight, his sharp nails broke skin. The scent of her blood filled his senses, and he went feral. His lips found her neck as he leaned down, leaving desperate kisses to subside the pain he was soon going to inflict on her porcelain throat.

“Louis—wait—” she pleaded, but made no movement to stop him. The pleasure was overwhelming as she arched her back into him, grasping onto his skin—still cold to the touch. Why was he so cold? She felt something sharp pierce the side of her throat, but oddly enough, the pain was overruled by the way he fucked her.

Thèrése wouldn’t be living much longer. “You’re to sweet for me.” He groaned, licking at the wound on her neck he had created. He watched blood ooze out of her, enjoying the crimson that decorated her neck. The familiar taste of pineapple was nothing if not addicting.

Thèrése felt weak, her body unable to hold itself up any longer as she grew light headed. The room began to spin, and Thèrése now knew she was no longer seeing things as his fangs poked two more holes near her wrist. Blood poured out of her and into his mouth.

Was this the way she would die? At the hands of the most charming man she’d ever met? The vampire who sealed her fate stopped sucking, slit his own wrist, and brought it to Thèréses’ mouth.

He fucked her harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. Her moans got caught on his wrist as his blood trickled down her throat. Thèrèse, pupils dilated and on a high, felt her end near as she clutched his wrist to her mouth like she would never be able to drink the forbidden liquid ever again.

Louis snatched his wrist back from her mouth quickly before she made herself sick. He knew she would want more blood, so he instead flipped Thèrése onto all fours, arching her ass into the air. Thèrèse cried and begged for Louis wrist—his cold blood back in her mouth.

“Shhh, shut up. You’ve had enough. Don’t be greedy, baby.” He scolded, grabbing her by the back of her hair and shoving her face into the cushion. “P-Please—Louis, M’gonna c-cum. Need you.” She begged as she pushed her ass back onto him, meeting his hard thrusts.

Her words began to slur together as his brutal pace never faltered. The grip he had on her waist was bruising, but Thèrése couldn’t even feel it. Her body felt as though it was on fire from head to toe, and the unbearable heat and pressure of her cunt was all too much for the young fledgling.

“You said you wanted to see the stars forever, right?” He asked, his breath grazing the shell of her ear. He didn’t sound like he did earlier—calm and alluring. He sounded gruff and disheveled—and every word he spoke almost came out in a growl.

He felt his balls tighten, and ever muscle in his body tensed. “Gonna stuff this pretty ass cunt. You ready, darlin’?” He said, his southern drawl laced with every word. “Y-yesss.” She groaned out through clenched teeth as his hand found her clit.

He played with her clit like he had been doing this for years, expertly. An overbearing wave of pressure was what made Thèrése snap as juices poured out of her. Louis never once slowed down, and his fingers continued to help her ride her high.

Louis didn’t stop, still chasing his end. Thèrése mindlessly took everything he gave her as her pussy grew sore and overstimulated from the relentless of the top of his cock hitting her cervix. “Can’t—I can’t, sir—“ she choked out, her words sounding almost as if her mind was in a distant place.

“Take it, Thèrése.” He urged as he bit down onto his lip, trying his hardest to resist sinking his fangs into her again. Thèrése listened, and the only sounds that escaped her drying lips were moans and whimpers of pleasure. Only Louis would ever be able to see her this way—this desperate and in need for him.

“Good girl. Just like that.” He said, stuffing her pussy full of his cum. His head was thrown back in bliss as he fucked his seed into her, deeper and deeper as his high subsided into a dull aching feeling. “Did so well, baby.” He said, his voice shaky.

He slid himself out of her, and watched as his cum spilled from her used hole, and onto his expensive foreign furniture. Thèrése laid there, legs sore and head still spinning, now in a painful manner as Louis scooped her up into his arms bridal style.

“S-so you’re really a vampire, huh?” She asked through a long and drug out yawn. He chuckled as he gazed down at her small frame in his arms. “Yes, and come tomorrow night, you will be too.” He replied, walking up the stairs of his old home.

“I’m scared, Louis.” She whispered, blinking slowly. Thèrése grew tired, her eyes heavy with sleep. “You won’t be for long.” He said reassuringly. “You have me now. Forever.” He muttered as he pushed open a door.

A singular coffin was placed in the center, right in front of a fire place. Thèrèse was laid in the coffin by Louis, and she watched as he left the room to grab a warmed wash cloth. She was in love. She died in love. And now, for the rest of her dead life, she will continue to live in love with the man who swooned her in the alley.

Vampires say the worst thing to experience from immortal life is a simple thing; loneliness. A feeling Louis knew all too well, and how would never feel again. Thèrése wasn’t Lestat. She wasn’t cold, and manipulative. Calculated in every wrong doing. No, Thèrése was kind and gentle. Thoughtful with every word she spoke and every action she took.

Never again would Louis ever have to worry about being alone.

guys this took me like 3 weeks to write I’m obsessed with this show rn. I worked so hard on this so istg if it flops I’ll be so sad 😭🙏

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request stuff!!

TAG LIST: @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @luxuriouslokistan-3 @sapriao @xiyingly @jazminsjaz @likeits2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @floredaqueen @lemonadygirl @newavenger @bloobewy @vogueprincess @theoraeken @scintilla-morningstar @liv-n @armandosbabymama @axailslink @cosmixstar

[fadingdaggerr]

hello! i was wondering if you could write a melissa/reader fic where r unknowingly makes mel very nervous/blush, and after a while melissa starts to become very protective of r until melissa is a big blushing mess and just needs to have her girl 🫶 or whatever u want to take from this, big fan of your work!! mwah 🧛🏻‍♀️🦇

amaranthine

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above <3 | 2.3k

includes: literally just fluff, tooth rotting fluff, soft!melissa, established but new relationship, light making out

note: sol posting two fics in a month? what is this? no but seriously i got an inspo boost since abbott is back in like 2 weeks so i was rewatching and “get the cameras outta my face before i give you colonoscopy with it” is still top 3 melissa lines (from attack ad)

“You really ate that and have the gall, the gumption to call it food?” Barbara says, baffled by the story you told her as you both were making your coffee. Somehow on the walk in, the conversation had gone from the muffin you got on your way to work, to the topic of childhood lunches.

You laugh, “listen, bologna and ketchup was the only consistent thing I ate until, like, middle school.”

“And you enjoyed that?” she says with a shocked face and what you guess is minor disgust from her downturned lips. You nod in response with a little mhm and Barbara’s hand comes up to hide your face from her line of sight, turning away so as to not laugh right at you. She’s nothing if not polite. Her reaction only makes you laugh more.

You both sober up as you hear the door opening, and there’s equal gratefulness for it being Melissa that enters the room. Your eyes flick over her quickly, taking in her pink top you don’t think you’ve seen before and black leather pants that you’ve certainly never forgotten her wearing. Her eyeliner is perfect, but it doesn’t hide the darker circles under her eyes, the folders in her bag telling you stayed up late to grade assignments.

Barbara greets her while you silently step away to the cabinet, grabbing an orange mug out. You know exactly how she takes her coffee, at least how she takes the bitter lounge coffee, with a sugar and a hefty pour of milk, only the one percent though. Just as she finishes unpacking her stuff and sits down to keep talking with Barb, you return to your spot across from her.

Her eyes move to you, watching you test the coffee with a small sip off the edge. You think a moment before pushing the mug over to her, a tiny smile crossing your lips. She raises a brow, taking a small sip of her own to test it. “It’s perfect, hon, thank you,” she says, just a little ruffled that you pay attention enough to get her coffee right and that she’d never gotten her coffee to taste this good.

“Anything for you,” is your earnest response. With the smile still on your lips, you send a wink her way before your attention is stolen by more people filtering into the room. As you chat over your shoulder with Gregory, Melissa faces her lap, desperate to get rid of the blush that painted her cheeks at the ease of your attention and words.

She decides to stay a little quieter, listening to the conversation Barbara is having with Janine, sipping on her coffee that she was holding close to her chest. There’s a prickly feeling on the side of her face, and when she turns she finds your eyes on her. They flick from her eyes to her shirt, scanning her the sleeves and stitching, and she has to pretend she didn’t notice the barely lingering look at her chest.

“New shirt?” you ask when your eyes meet hers.

She takes in a deep breath, “yeah, just got it yesterday. D’ya not like it or something?”

“What? No, Mel,” you said, “you look beautiful. As always.”

There’s not enough time for her to hide before her cheeks are an even brighter shade of pink than her shirt, eyes blinking rapidly. Melissa prays that Barbara didn't just hear you say those words, let alone see her reaction to them. Whatever this was between you two, it’s new and fragile and not fully defined, and you both agreed you don’t want to let anyone in just yet.

—☽—

Melissa has become attuned to you. She knows when you’re around well before she sees you, always able to sense your presence. If it was because she was always looking for you, she’d never admit it.

With soft steps knowing it’s a quiet time in her room, you approach her classroom as a stop on your way to the lounge for popcorn. Stopping in her doorway, she immediately turns and looks at you. Eyes widening at the immediate attention, you give her a little wave.

“Alright little eagles, I’m gonna be in the hall. Youse better stay on your best behavior,” she says as she stands up from the desk, making an ‘I’m-watching-you’ motion. Joining you in the hall with a little smile on her face, she leans against the wall.

“You didn’t have to leave your class,” you say as you match her position, leaning into her space just a little.

Her smile grows a bit, “then why’d you stop by?”

“Just wanted to see you, that’s all. But getting you to talk to you is definitely a bonus,” you answer, the grin on your face stretching as you look at her while you speak.

That wasn’t the answer she was expecting, not that she really knew what she thought you’d say. Licking her lips, she ducks her head and shakes it, but only for a second. Looking back up at you, she manages to say, “you just came to stare at me then?”

“I prefer the word ‘admire,’ but same-difference.”

“Yeah, right,” she says with a little scoff, trying hard to keep from allowing the heat to creep up her neck.

You mock her a little scoff with a smirk as you push off the wall, about to start back on your journey. “Whatever you say, gorgeous,” you say before turning away. Your turn stutters as you come back around, fingers raising to her necklace to fix the chain so the clip was at the back of her neck. You mumble a barely audible there we go before you turn around and continue on your way.

Melissa is frozen in place for a moment, hand raising to her neck, tracing the spot your hand ran against. A thankful thought passed her mind that the hall was empty, not even a doc camera around. She was not above threatening them to delete the footage or smashing the camera that caught her flustered and dazed from your affection.

—☽—

At lunch, she has to refrain from looking at you, knowing that if she even dared to, that her cheeks would be as red as the firetrucks she adores. Thinking instead that she didn’t want to talk at the moment, you were conversing with Jacob about a movie he watched over the weekend and was dying to share it with someone. Admittedly, Melissa was half listening, really only to hear your voice.

There was a slight snicker from the couches, a sort of snicker that peaked Melissa’s attention. She sees Mr. Morton and another eighth-grade teacher peering at yours and Jacob’s direction, clearly listening to your conversation and finding it humorous. Focusing her ears, she hears mumbles of lame as hell and great, another freak. Her brows furrow and fists clench, Barbara quickly notices her friend’s change in mood and gives her a questioning gaze that Melissa ignores.

“Aye,” Melissa pipes up, the whole room goes silent. Her eyes stay on Morton and what’s-her-face as she menacingly says, “watch your mouth or I watch it for you. Got it?” The only response either one gives her is a fast nod before averting their eyes, frozen in place from fear. 

When Melissa’s glare finally leaves them, everyone else’s eyes drop to avoid being next, except for yours and Barbara’s.

“What was that for?” Barbara speaks quietly so only the three of you at the table can hear.

“Nothing, Barb. Just didn’t like what they were saying is all,” she answers, purposefully keeping her eyes off both of you.

Your hand goes to her arm in an attempt to comfort her a bit, thumb caressing her skin, “what were they saying?”

Melissa desperately tries to ignore her rapid heart, “it was nothing, hon. Don’t worry about it.” Unable to resist a little bit of extra contact, she pats your hand reassuringly. Neither of you notice Barbara’s eyebrows fly up in surprise at the outward affection you both displayed.

When lunch ended, Barbara went back to her classroom to do her lesson on the changing seasons, and you and Melissa both had prep periods while your students went off to recess and their extra activities. Taking the extra time you rarely got to have together during the work day, you spent the majority of the hour grading next to each other. Little smiles and checking in made you both ditch the grading altogether, just enjoying each other's company.

“If I invited you over for dinner tonight, what would you say to that?” she asks with a coy smile.

“I’d say I’d love to have dinner with you,” you reply with a tad of shyness, playing with the rings on her hand you were holding in your lap. 

“Six work for you?”

“I’ll be there, on the dot.”

Your phone buzzes on the table next to you, making you flinch at the sudden intrusion. She heard you mumble shit under your breath, before you stand and hurriedly collect your things. Double checking that you had everything, you let out a deep breath. 

Without much thought, you lean down and press a soft kiss to her cheek, “I’ll see you later.” Before she can  respond you’re rushing out of the room to get your kids from art class.

Melissa’s head drops to her desk and grumbles, “gonna be the death of me, that one.”

—☽—

In her kitchen, you’d found that your favorite spot was sitting on the counter next to her. She let you ‘help’ by letting you add the seasonings, but wouldn’t let you near much else. You were content to look at her while she worked in her element, an ease and happiness in her movements that you delight in.

With just having to wait for the vegetables to cook down a bit, she turns to you and leans in close, arm brushing your thigh. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, and raise your hand to brush hair out of her face. Your hand slides from behind her ear to cup her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.

“You’re so pretty, you know?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead she leans into you, her hands moving from the counter to your thighs. Pink lips brush against yours, a silent question. This was all she’s been wanting since you two snuck away Friday as everyone left school, where she left you breathless in your empty classroom. The answer she gets is your lips pressing into her, soft and slow, savoring the taste of her. Melissa barely holds back a whine at the feeling of your lips on hers, she never thought she could miss a feeling so much, but a weekend apart from you had her craving your touch. Your tongue traces against her bottom lip, begging for entry, and she’s quick to grant it.

Unlike her, you don’t hold in a groan at the feeling of her mouth on yours. Your hands travel into her hair, lightly tugging her closer. The sensation has her hands gripping your thighs, using them to pull you into her. You feel a certain desperation in her kiss that allows you to take the lead easily, sucking her bottom lip between your teeth and biting gently before kissing her softer to make it better. Your legs wrap around her as you slow your lips, wanting her close as possible.

As you pull away, she pushes back in to catch your lips again for just a second. Her hands on your thighs are making it incredibly hard for you to focus on your already struggling breathing. There’s a muted moan from her as your fingers scratch her scalp, pulling gently as her soft hair.

“You’re trouble, you know?” she murmurs breathlessly, mirroring your previous question.

You smile as you rest your head against the cupboard behind you, still holding her face as you ask, “how so?”

“All you’re staring and flirting, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she responds like it’s obvious.

“Again, I was admiring, not staring. And when was I flirting?” Your tone and the look on your face makes the redhead realize that you truly weren’t aware of the effect you were having on her. 

Her hands slide up to your waist, your shirt raising just enough for her pinkies to brush your skin. The goosebumps that develop under her touch makes her heart skip a beat, loving that she had a similar effect on you. When she doesn’t answer you right away, you angle her face to bring her attention back to you, silently asking your question again with your eyes.

Melissa sighs, “saying you’d do ‘anything’ for me, calling me beautiful and pretty. You’re a flirt.” 

“Those are just all true, not really flirting. I would do anything for you and you are very beautiful and very pretty,” you say, smiling. The heat in her cheeks spread to your hands, the warmth spreading to your heart. She tries to duck away but you’re faster, pulling her closer just barely to press a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

She wants to respond, but no words form under your gaze. Your eyes avert from hers and she finds hers following where yours go. Suddenly the simmering of the vegetables in the pot reaches her ears, reminding her that there was a world outside your eyes and lips. Your hands drop from her face, letting her go to check on the food you can’t touch. She just squeezes your hips before letting go.

You’ll still be there when she gets back.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title means something that is ‘undying or everlasting’

[johnnieguilbertsgirlfriend]

shower situation (smut) part 3

Part 1 --- Part 2 --- Part 3

word count: 1.1k - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - fluff, eventual smut

Gally removes his hand from yours, walking into the showers, leaving you outside momentarily. he was making sure no one else was in there. you peered inside; 3 shower stalls, covered by curtains, and 2 sinks on the walls closest to you. stepping back outside, you look around at the trees, waiting for Gally. he pulls back the curtains one by one. "Alright there's no one here Y/- oh shuck" -you hear a high pitched scream, weren't you the only girl in the glade?... an argument erupts from the two boys for a good thirty seconds, "I always take my showers right after dinner!" you heard. "Minho, will you please just get out of here?" Gally says. you hear a scoff, most likely from Minho, as he grabs a towel and runs out of the shower stall. "Whatever! I- oh," he sees you and immediately starts running off faster.

"Well, that was weird." you say. entering the bathroom, properly this time, you see that there are no towels in sight. just before you can ask him, he opens a cabinet and grabs a towel, almost like he could read your mind. "Here." he says. you thank him and place the towel just outside of the shower. you remember how both of you were cuddled into one another yesterday. you turned on the water, letting it get hotter. (still outside of the shower fully dressed.) deciding now or never, "Listen, about last night, I-" you get cut off by his retort, "Yeah, yeah, whatever, it meant nothing." Gally turns a shade of pink, turning to walk outside of the showers. "No." you say, grabbing his arm, he turns to you with a semi-angry face. "I liked it, Gally." you pull on the collar of his shirt, bringing him closer. taking the chance, you kiss him right there on the spot. his expression instantly softens, grabbing the sides of your face to pull you into a deeper kiss.

he pulls away, unsure of how to go about things. you get concerned and show it on your face, maybe he didn't feel the same way? "I like you, Y/N." he states. you look up at his eyes, greener than anything you've ever seen, then back down to his lips. "Well, I like you too." you smile, pulling him back into another kiss. he smiles into the kiss as well, grabbing you by the hips. "You're beautiful." he murmurs, kissing you more intensely. you decide to pop the question, more like a statement;

"Shower with me."

as if he was going to do it regardless of whether you asked or not, he starts taking off his shirt, breaking the kiss momentarily. you take a second to admire his muscles. all of that building payed off, as he had a really defined torso, along with arms. now the kiss was more full of lust, as he starts taking off your shirt, revealing your bra. Gally doesn't even need to open his eyes, he can tell that you're gorgeous. he starts to give kisses on your jaw, moaning as you unzip his pants, helping him out of them. you could tell he was already hard, as expected given the situation. he then trails his mouth down your neck, as you take off your own shorts. grabbing your hands, he walks you back into one of the stalls and pins you on the wall of the running shower, not caring if your clothes got wet. he closes the curtain behind you. before it can get anymore heated you hear someone and both immediately break away, looking towards the outside.

"Hello? Y/N? Are you in here?" you know it was Newt, being the only one with a british accent. 'Yeah' is what you were going to say before Gally covered your mouth with his hand. "Uh, nope, just me Newt." he says. you look at him with panic in your eyes. "Oh, hey Gally. Do you know where Y/N is? I can't even tell her about the bloody bonfire." the boy says. "No clue, try checking the homestead." he looks directly at you while saying this, knowing fully well that it is on the other side of the glade. "I will, thanks." Newt says, before heading off on his way. you both stay silent for another minute, making sure he actually left.

eager to continue, you take your hand and start rubbing him through his boxers. he groans and starts kissing your collarbone while struggling to unclip your bra. you take his hands in yours and guide him, unclasping it first try, showing your boobs. he takes a second to fully look at you, appreciating the fact that you're even here, standing before him. he takes one of your breasts in his mouth, leaving love marks all over it. he takes his other hand downwards to grope your ass. you let out a moan, "Gally, fuck-" you reach inside his boxers and start fisting his dick. "Please, just fuck me Gally" you moan out. "Whatever you want baby." he tells you, pulling down your panties. he uses this as an excuse to show off his strength, pinning your whole body on the wall and holding you as he inserts his dick.

it slides right in as you're already so wet. you take a second to get adjusted to this new feeling. then he starts thrusting in and out, slowly. you know he likes it when people praise him for his work, so you use this to your advantage. "Gally, you feel so good, you fill me up perfectly." you whisper, kissing his jaw as he fucks you. with this, he starts to pick up the pace, the shower muting the sounds of your skin to anyone outside. with every thrust, you can feel yourself getting closer to your high. "Y/N, I-I'm gonna cum" he says. you just moan in response, unable to form a sentence. "You feel so good baby," he says, making you clench around him. you feel Gally become sloppier with his movements, and the knot in your stomach releases. he keeps fucking you, helping you ride out your orgasm. then, he pulls out, cumming all over you. he stares at you blankly for a second, remembering that you're in a shower. he gives you one last passionate kiss before asking, "Would you want to be my girlfriend ,Y/N?" staring deep into your eyes. you giggle, nodding your head. both of you get cleaned up and you cover yourselves, each with a towel, and step next to the sinks. there's a faint voice heading in your direction.

"Gally, will you please help me look, I seriously can't find her anywh-" Newt says, running up to the bathroom. he stops his sentence when he sees you both wet, with only a towel. he then looks down to your neck, filled with hickeys. you look at Newt exactly like a deer caught in headlights, while Gally scratches the back of his neck.

"What in the bloody fu-"

(wow you guys wasted a lot of water!!)

remember this is all on my wattpad <3 (link in bio)

[chrissv4mp]

so american .🩹

summary: you never fail to impress and surprise your british boyfriend with whatever you do, even if it's telling a simple joke.

pairing: american!fem!reader × british!guitarist!matt sturniolo

warnings: pure fluff, some vulgar language.

matt's eyes scan your face as he pulls to a stop, the light emitting a red glow that stands out in the dark of night.

you're looking out your window, enjoying the quiet of the empty streets. your hand plays with the string of matts pythia hoodie, it was both his and your favorite.

he couldn't help but admire you, not noticing the light turning green as he spoke softly, quietly, "you're so pretty wearing my clothes,"

he doesn't even know if he's talking more to you or to himself, all he knows is that he has the most beautiful girlfriend in the world.

you turn your head at the sound of his voice, accent heavy. his hand reaches up to cup your cheek, and you relax instantly at the warmth of it.

god, his hands made hell seem cold sometimes. they were always so warm, even in the winter.

your lips curve into a smile, lifting your free hand up to lay on his that was still on your cheek.

he ran his thumb along your lower lip, eyes darting between them and your eyes. you were so perfect. the definition of an all-american girl.

his tongue peeks out to lick his own lips before he begins to speak again, "but then again, you're always pretty. my pretty girl,"

his accent. you could never get tired of it, it never went unnoticed and was always so prominent.

even after all the years he's been in the U.S. it would never fade, not even in the slightest.

your cheeks turn a deep shade of pink at the compliment, moving away from his hand to hide in his hoodie and instantly missing the warmth of skin.

your hand moves to hold his, feeling his calloused fingertips on your soft skin, a reminder of his amazing talent of being able to play the electric guitar.

another thing that made him so special to you, another thing that made him, him.

sometimes you wondered if he was even real, if he was just some imaginary guy you made up in your head, or a poem that couldn't escape your mind.

you wanted to be the one to write that poem if he wasn't real. but each time he kissed you, touched you, did anything, he reminded you that he was, in fact, a real boy.

your boy.

matt drove off on the next green light, and you couldn't help but stare with adoration at the boy, he was so pretty. how was he so pretty?

your lips upturned into a smirk, tucking your hands in your pockets as you spoke, "hey, baby,"

the brunette boy hummed in response, glancing over at you before turning his attention back to the road.

"why did the chicken cross the road?" you could already see him smiling, he was so easy.

"hmm, i dunno. why?" he muttered, biting his lip to withhold the laugh he had.

you smiled wider, carefully studying his face as to not miss his reaction. you never failed to surprise matt.

"to get to the other side." you laughed. it wasn't even funny, it was just... matt.

matt smiled, his composure breaking as he burst into laughter.

your laughs became louder, his were contagious. everything about him was contagious.

once he had finally settled down, he snickered, looking over at you with a smile on his face, "god, you're so american."

that's what he always said, and it never failed to make you feel special. like you were one of a kind, like you belonged to someone.

fuck, it wasn't fair how many emotions he made you feel all at the same time. you just wanted to kiss him all over, but at the same time you wanted to fight him.

he was just so cute, you were scared something would happen to him.

he was so persuading, too. just one look at him and you'd do anything. you'd run away with him if he asked you to.

you smiled, leaning over the center console to give him a quick kiss. his lips were so soft, so puffy.

he was perfect. jesus, you just wanted to marry the guy.

"yeah, and i was just---" madi started, but you quickly interrupted her.

"oh my god, matt just bought us tickets to hawaii. holy shit!" you gasped, practically jumping up and down in excitement.

madi and nick rolled their eyes, and nick was the first to speak, "first, super rude that you just interrupted madi, and second, do you ever stop talking about matt? seriously, it's gotten to a point where it's starting to get boring."

"yeah, guys, that wasn't very nice to interrupt me like that." madi joked, her pout fake as she stared at you.

you rolled your eyes, muttering a quiet, "sorry." before letting madi speak again.

after leaving the park with nick and madi, your phone buzzed with a text from your boyfriend.

it was a picture of a book he was reading, "a good girl's guide to murder."

you smiled, his taste was amazing. in everything, really. his clothing, the books he read, whatever he ordered out at restaurants, his music.

'Also can I stay with you tonight?? I don't wanna leave just yet.'

'ofc, baby!💞'

fuck, you had work tomorrow. why'd you even say yes? you never got any sleep when matt was with you, he was always so touchy and you just couldn't resist him. he was addictive.

'I love you.'

your eyes narrowed at his words, guilt washing over you. it wasn't your fault you had commitment issues, it was your stupid ex-boyfriends.

maybe you were a little scared to say you loved other people, especially boys. boys like matt.

your eyes landed on matt, his back glistening with water as he sat at the edge of the pool, kicking his feet into it.

he tapped his fingers next to him, recreating a silent beat that was stuck in his head from earlier.

running a hand through his hair, he turned to look at you, his smile wide at just the sight of your beautiful face.

"hi," he said, awestruck as he walked over to you.

he took a seat next to yours, sitting criss-cross as he stared over at you.

"hi, baby." you smiled, leaning over to kiss him.

his hand rested on your thigh, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin as he kissed you passionately.

he never wanted to leave your lips, the way his and yours fit so perfectly was amazing to him. it was like you were made for eachother.

your eyes landed on the sunset when you pulled back, admiring the beauty of it.

matt watched it too, barely even seeing it move as it slowly set behind the mountains. you reminded him of lots of things, the sunset being one of them.

one, because of your cheery personality, and two, because of how pretty you were. he would never understand how he got the chance to be with you.

it was a miracle, how quickly you guys just clicked. how quickly you fell for each other. he still couldn't believe it.

the brunette's eyes landed on you once again, scanning over all your features and staying on your eyes just a little longer than all the others.

you continued to stare out into the sun while matt had begun to play with the beach towel he lay on.

"matt," your soft voice broke the comfortable silence as you turned your head to face him.

you were gonna tell him, finally, how much you adored him, even if it was just a little too much just a little too soon.

"hmm?" he turned his attention back to you, propping himself up on one elbow.

your eyes couldn't decide where to stay at this moment, so they just settled for the floor.

fuck, were you even ready? you thought you were but now it seems like the entire world has their eyes on you.

"i think i'm in love," you began, muttering quietly.

matt raised an eyebrow, not quite catching what you had just said, "what was that?"

his accent slipped again, and you just couldn't take it anymore.

"i think i'm in love with you, matt." you said just a little louder than your normal tone, and the brunettes eyes went wide.

his cheeks went a light pink and his lips parted, his hand clutching the blue towel.

you exhaled, and then you spoke again, "i love you, matt."

he smiled slowly, scooting closer to you before cupping your face and kissing you lovingly.

the kiss lasted longer than he intended it to, but he wouldn't complain. i mean, you had just said you loved him for the first time.

you were the first to pull back, but matt was quick to speak, "been waiting for you to say that, darling."

you nodded in agreement, smiling shyly as you looked away, "yeah, me too."

. . .

tags: @freshloveee @333-luvsturns @junovrsmp4 @twelveozpepsi @24kmar @ryli3sworld @mattsneezing @films4sturni @55sturn @freshsturns @voidghsts @mstxrniolo @lanixsturniolo @mattsbbg @madssturniolo @chrissturnswife @heartsforchrisandmatt @sturnrc @avvkwardd @sluttformatt @stvrnslover @sturn3g1rl @iluvmattyb

[rookiesbookies]

Gaz and his Loser as the next part of my Sex Doll AU. This was much asked for and edited by my lovely mutual @shotmrmiller

Gaz’s story of getting bought goes much like all the others. His loser saw an ad on a social media app. She clicked it accidentally and it took her to the sleazy website. He cost a pretty penny but she had the extra cash to spare, so she figured why not. As the girl's cursor hovered over his image on the screen she went ahead and clicked buy.

His arrival was clunky. Getting him through the door was annoying, but he definitely could have been more difficult. She had waited to open him until a special day when she felt she could use the companionship. She did her best to understand the instructions of the manual, which was in some unknown or gargled print of a language she couldn’t recognize.

Gaz awoke with a start, the memories of his previous owner fading away as if it had never happened. Just a flash.

He looked around the unfamiliar room, taking in his new surroundings. It was dimly lit, with plush furniture and expensive decor. He could hear soft music playing in the background.

And then he saw her.

She was standing by the door, looking at him with a curious expression on her face. She was beautiful, everything he could have craved.

His eyes roamed over the silky fabric that hugged her curves, a delicate lingerie in a seductive shade of pink-red. The sight made his breath hitch, and he found himself struggling to keep it steady as he took in every inch of her exposed skin. He could feel his pulse quicken at the mere sight of her, and all he could do was let out a heavy exhale as desire coursed through him.

She seemed nervous under his gaze, his eyes didn't hold scrutiny but she didn't know what to expect... He finally registered how exposed she was. Crotchless panties and a heart shape. Valentine's Day. His poor loser is single on Valentine's Day.

"All ready for me, love?" He teased breathlessly. "Come on, don't be embarrassed."

There was something about him that felt more human, more empathetic. He felt like more than just a sex toy, definitely more than whatever he was marketed as. She could tell he was probably worth more than whatever she paid for him.

"Well, I may not be your ideal Valentine's date but I promise to make it special for you."

She almost couldn't form words as he grew closer, speaking into her lips, "Tell me what you want."

She responded eagerly, leaning to kiss him.

Their lips met in a fervent dance of desire, a tangle of tongues and teeth as they each sought to consume the other. Her hands roamed his body, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, while he cupped her face gently as if she were the most delicate thing in the world. The air between them crackled with anticipation, charged with an undeniable electricity that sent shivers down her spine.

As their kiss deepened, he slowly began to trail kisses down her neck, his warm breath sending tingles across her skin. She tilted her head back in silent invitation, giving him better access to the curve of her throat. With each feather-light touch of his lips, she let out a soft sigh of pleasure, her body responding instinctively to his every move.

He moved lower still, his lips leaving a trail of fire along her collarbone and down to the swell of her breasts. He continued to move down her body and to her crotchless panties, smiling greedily as he dove in.

She was now completely at his mercy, and she relished in the feeling, knowing that he would take her to heights of pleasure she had only dreamed of.

Finally, he reached her crotchless panties and smiled greedily as he dove in. His tongue flicked against her clit, sending waves of electric pleasure through her body. She let out a moan as his skilled tongue continued its exploration, teasing and taunting her until she was writhing beneath him.

His fingers were long and slender, gliding in and out of her with ease. They glistened with her arousal, moving in a steady rhythm that mirrored the rise and fall of her chest.

Her body writhed beneath him, her skin flushed and glistening in the dim light of the room, growing slicker as it went on. His fingers disappeared between her thighs, moving in a quick and skilled rhythm. Pleasure flooded her senses, her mouth watering with the taste of him on her lips.

Her skin flushed pink as he stroked her clit, his fingers moving in a skilled dance. She arched her back and her breasts rose and fell with each desperate breath. His focused gaze on her body showed a burning desire, mirroring her own.

Her mouth went dry as he found her sweet spot, dragging his tongue along her folds and tasting her arousal as his fingers wiggled within. She could taste the salt of her skin on his lips, making her crave more of his touch.

The scent of sex filled the air, a heady mixture of sweat and desire that made her pulse race even faster. As she grew closer to climax, the scent intensified, making his desire for her nearly uncontrollable.

Her moans filled the room, growing louder and more desperate with each moment. The sound of their breathing and the slick movements of his fingers echoed off the walls, heightening the intensity of their passionate encounter.

Just as she was about to reach the peak of pleasure, he suddenly removed himself from between her legs. She let out a whimper of protest, her body craving his touch.

But he had something else in mind. He stripped off his clothes completely, revealing his toned and muscular body to her hungry gaze.

She caught her breath at the sight of him, feeling a rush of desire pulse through her veins. Without any hesitation, he dove back in between her thighs, his mouth hungrily finding hers as he inserted himself between her slick folds.

She let out a gasp at the sudden feeling of fullness, pleasure shooting through every nerve in her body. His spit added an extra layer of slickness and heat as he thrust into her with a steady rhythm. He folded one of her legs up over his shoulder, wrapping around his waist as he began to move after her breathing leveled out.

Their bodies moved together in perfect synchronization, their breathing growing ragged and heavy as they both chased after their own release.

Her mind couldn't wrap around the sex. It felt like he was fitted perfectly to serve the master that is her body. He fit perfectly, like the missing piece to her puzzle.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as she arched into him, lost in the intense pleasure coursing through her veins. The only sounds that filled the room were their moans and gasps for air, mingling together in a symphony of passion.

As they both reached the peak of ecstasy together, their bodies tensed and shuddered in sort of unison. Like his was triggered by her body's release at a deeper level beyond just good sex. An intense wave of pleasure washed over them both, leaving them both breathless and satisfied.

They collapsed onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and sweaty skin, their hearts still racing from the intensity of their encounter.

He pulled her close to him, kissing away any lingering doubts or fears that may have been within her mind.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, check out my AU list for more like this. Don’t forget to leave me a comment (i always try to respond) or a request in my inbox (i also try to respond to these when I can), a reblog, or even just a like to let me know what yall want to see!

[roeroe-world]

her noah, his wiz.

starring: aka roxxie as yaya, method man as cassius

set in 1997.

warning: use of drugs and alcohol, profane language, detailed smut, adult situations, very long and lengthy scene ahead

The beauty of a black woman is unlike any other. Graced in different shades and sizes. Ebony skin crafted perfectly in the hands of God. Their creativity is unmatched. Trendsetters to the absolute max.

We’ve all heard the saying the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice… well, it’s absolutely true. Cassius is just one of many black men whom held the proof.

His woman, Yaya, is the perfect shade of brown. A true melanated queen, a head adorned with a crown. Whatever he wanted, she was down.

No-one could replace his girl. She’s his earth, his sun, the one. Yaya is his one and only true love, truly irreplaceable. They’ve had their ups and downs but still no other bitch could replace her.

“Aye, shorty? I’m home.” Cassius enters their home, after a long day of hustling and doing what he had to do to provide for his woman. He always made sure to make it home in one piece, never wanting his woman to worry about his whereabouts although she always did.

“I’m in here, baby!” Her sweet, Trinidadian and Queens accent meets his eardrums.

A familiar aroma exiting the kitchen invades his nostrils, he rubs his hands together, knowing whatever she cooked would be bomb. More than likely, she was cooking up a Caribbean dish.

Upon entering their spacious kitchen, the sight of his woman rocking blonde tresses nearly made him drool. She must’ve got her hair done today. He loves bright colors on her because it compliments her skin tone so well.

His shorty could rock braids, curls, a mullet, Bantu knots, anything, and she’d still look good. Yaya happened to be versatile with her looks which he adores. She wasn’t a basic bitch and she’s far from average.

The ebony woman stood unapologetically in her skin tone, a frame shaped like an hourglass, and a phat ass. In his eyes, nobody is on her level— not even actress, Halle Berry.

“Damn, who you looking this good for?” He envelopes his arms around her tiny frame, a firm grip on her plump bottom as his head dips into the crook of her neck. His pink lips planting sensual kisses along her soft skin.

His infamous scent of expensive cologne and weed dancing within her nostrils, making her feel right at home.

“You. As always.” She giggles, caressing his clothed back. “How was your day?”

“Same ‘ol shit.”

Yaya didn’t question him any further. She knew he was doing his thing in the streets.

Cassius slightly backs away to give her space to open the oven door, leaning against the island and scanning her frame closely through his Versace glasses. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

“So… Radiah and I went by Saks today and they had these fly ass high-heel boots. Baby, you should’ve saw ‘em— I mean, they had the cheetah print fur and leather.” Amongst opening the oven door, she sits the dish onto the table and removes the mittens off of her dainty manicured hands. “Then there was this purse. I think it was Prada or Dolce Gabbana. Bad.”

Reaching into the pocket of his baggy leather jacket, “How much money you need to go shopping?”

A bright smile creeps upon her glossy lips as she holds up her hand, showcasing the exact amount she wanted. Her dainty hand bending largely into the air.

Without a hesitation, Cassius chuckles, “I got you, baby.” He counts his cash and hands his woman a wad of money without wasting any time. Money isn’t a thing when it comes to spoiling his girl.

His wiz deserves the finer things in life.

“You always got me, baby.” She plants a loving kiss amongst his pink lips. Ain’t no nigga like the one she got.

1995. 1995 was the year, Cassius and Yaya first laid their dark brown orbs onto one another at Biggie’s concert. It was lust at first sight. A pretty face and a phat ass left him mesmerized but her aura left him hypnotized. Of course, she liked his roughneck look and thought he had it going on.

“What’s good, beautiful? I’m Cassius.” The brown dyed finger waves eccentuated her facial features. Her wine, red dress hugged her small figure as well as a pair of Jordan’s adorning her small feet.

He searched through the crowd to approach her, no longer focusing on the fact that one of his favorite rappers was performing on stage. Cassius was determined to talk to her, despite the rowdiness and ruckus occurring around them.

His hand outward for her to shake it which she does, scanning his being. His hair happened to be in a wild fro, dressed in baggy clothing and a fresh pair of Nikes. “Hello, Cassius. The name’s Yaya.” She definitely enjoyed the sight in front of her. “I’m guessing you want my number.”

Her accent caught him a bit off guard but instead he just grins, saying, “Yeah. If that’s cool with you.” She returns the grin, a grin that indicated that she was fucking with him.

For the rest of the show, they kicked it and remained in touch.

Despite the urges to want to pounce on him the moment they were finally alone for the first time, she made him work for it. Honestly, he loved every moment of it. ‘Cause it was worth it in the end. She’s worth it.

Here they were in 1997, still going strong. Cassius had been nothing short from a real nigga from the get go, fulfilling his promise to give her the world as he did. He treats her like a queen while keeping her laced in the finer things.

Despite possessing her own hard earned money, she has a man who could provide. A man whom she loves from his head to his toes. Who she’d ride for at any given moment.

He peers downward in her direction, grabbing a hold of Yaya’s left hand which held a large diamond rock on her fourth finger and intertwining their fingers, “Shit. I can’t wait to marry you.” The two staring onto one another passionately.

At times, she would often stare at her engagement ring, wondering if it was real or not. The stunning nine carat emerald cut diamond band adorned her left hand for the past four months.

New York City, it was pouring rain. The couple were enjoying their dinner at a popular luxurious restaurant in the city. Suddenly, their conversation transitioned into a heart to heart, expressing to one another how appreciative they were. But Cassius had more planned.

The palm of their hands connected as his thumb caressed the top of her hand, his raspy New York accent flowing within her eardrums. Their eyes never tearing away from one another.

“When you met me I ain’t have nothing and you didn’t have to fuck with me. But you did— no matter how much of a fucking handful I was. I wasn’t easy to deal with yet you remained solid. You stayed down, held a nigga down and helped mold me into the man I am today like no other woman could. You never folded when shit got tough and for that I ain’t got nothing but love and respect for you…”

He spoke truthfully, scanning her facial features and taking in her beauty. “Ain’t nobody fuckin’ with you or replacing what you did. You keep it real. You all I ever wanted in a woman.” Cassius meant every single word. “We got history, shorty and knowing that—” The male reaches into his pocket and bends on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

Instantaneously, her eyes bulged out of her head and she hops out of her seat without a hesitation. “Yes, Cassius, I’ll marry you!” Yaya’s high jet black ponytail bounced as she hops up and down in excitement similar to a child, smiling brightly.

A heartwarming grin amongst his pink lips, he slides the ring onto her finger and the moment he began to stand, she jumps into his arms. Their lips connecting passionately as if they were the only individuals in the establishment.

Yet, they had an entire audience, clapping and making sounds of approval for the couple.

“I can’t wait to marry you either.” Their lips connect yet again. “You hungry?” She began to make him a plate.

“Hell yeah.” He wastes no time responding, his arms enveloping her waist as he watched her.

————

The couple hopped out of Cassius’ Mercedes Benz, strolling hand in hand into the large home. Cassius’ homeboy, Derek, lived it up and hosted lavish parties. He didn’t seem to give a fuck about the white people in his neighborhood.

They could call five-o on him at any moment yet he still could care less. It’s his house and he pays the bills, no-one could tell him what to do with his household. He continued to throw parties damn near every weekend. His house is big enough.

“Aye, what’s good, Cee?!” He greets his childhood friend, their hands clapping together while bringing one another in to clap the other’s back. “Ain’t shit. This piece jumpin’.” Cassius glances around the packed mansion, slightly nodding and rapping along to the music.

“Hey, Yaya. You look good.” Derek embraces the young woman into a friendly hug which she returns. “Hi, Derek.” He so happened to be one of the few of Cassius’ friends she actually liked.

Rap music played loudly, smoke clouded the house and women were everywhere. Mobb Deep’s Quiet Storm Remix featuring Lil Kim blared throughout the speakers. It was live, for sure. Cassius and Yaya found themselves indulging in just a few drinks— more so Yaya, dancing together.

One thing about Yaya is she was going to have a drink or two or even three. She likes to drink and was already about to gulp down her fourth one.

Meanwhile, Cassius was on his third blunt of the day and only had one drink. He isn’t much of a drinker like Yaya happens to be. The only difference is he could function properly when intoxicated, she couldn’t. His baby is lightweight.

A lit blunt sat in between the male’s index and middle finger, shaking his head, “Aht, no more drinks for you, Yaya.” He garners the red cup from her hold and sits it onto a nearby table earning a pout. She couldn’t handle her liquor especially when she’s had too much to drink.

Irrational isn’t even the word to describe how she acted when often intoxicated. He didn’t like when she would drink, he never could.

“You are not my damn daddy.” Childishly, crossing her arms, Cassius doesn’t pay her actions any mind.

The smoke between his lips blows into her face carelessly, hitting her nostrils and eventually her blood stream. She’s not much of a smoker, opposed to Cassius. Though with the amount of smoke clouding her, she was already high as a kite and drunk.

His arms are lifted above his head, his tall frame swaying side to side, singing along to 112’s Cupid. Low red eyeballs piercing downward into hers as he sung the lyrics to the woman. “…And when I tell you I need you. Don’t you think that I’ll never be there, oooh,” It was so off key that the beauty found herself laughing. Her mood immediately shifting, giving into his antics.

Suddenly, she envelopes her arms around his neck and the couple began to sing off key together, even messing up a few of the lyrics along the way.

“True love won’t lie but you won’t know unless you give it try, give it try…” They sang in unison, cracking up at themselves for finishing the note terribly. “I’d rather die before I— before I lie to you,” Yaya’s other free hand swayed side to side while the other remained around his neck. “Never wanna leave, never wanna go, ah oooh— no, no, no, no, nooo, no ohh…”

Their failed attempt to hit the high note results in their laughter to double over. The woman pushes his face away playfully, claiming, “You fuckin’ up my song, nigga.” A mug present amongst her canvas.

Tossing his head backward, chuckling, his head lifts upward yet again as his tongue drags across his pink lips. “You not exactly a Mariah or a Whitney. Shit, you not even a Brandy, shorty.” She gasps in response at the insult, her stomach hurting from the amount of laughing she’d been doing all night.

“Fuck you.” The woman laughs uncontrollably.

Grinning goofily, Cassius forced his fiancée into his embrace and palms her backside. His head dipping into the crook of her neck to plant small pecks upon her skin, inhaling her sweet expensive perfume. He loves him some Yaya.

He enjoyed days like these ‘cause they weren’t always like this.

At times, they would beef for no reason. Yaya tends to get her moods and so does Cassius. They both collectively possess attitudes out of this world and at times their fights could be brutal, harsh. So it was important that the couple basked in the calmness and peacefulness, living in the moment.

They’re still very young individuals, trying to figure themselves and this thing called life out. In the midst of healing from childhood trauma, trying their absolute best to break generational curses. Not wanting to follow the same mistakes their parents made.

Though, at times, it could be unavoidable.

“Yo, Cee, let me whoop yo’ ass in pool.” That familiar raspy New York accent makes her roll her eyes. Exodus.

Cassius’ body no longer on hers and his attention averting to his homeboy, kissing his teeth playfully. “My bad for breaking up y’all little love session.” Exodus’ and Yaya’s eyes meet for a split second the moment she turns, looking him up and down quickly. “You don’t mind if I steal your cheatin’ ass nigga real quick to beat him in pool?” Despite her growing upset, she nods in approval anyways.

“Yeah, no. I don’t mind.” She and Cassius were enjoying their time together until he barged in for a game of fucking pool. Pathetic.

Chuckling, Cassius sends a loving peck to his woman’s lips, “I’ll be back, shorty.” Before leaving, his hand taps her plump backside that sat perfectly in her leather pants. “Nigga, I won that game fair and square. You just a sore loser. Fuck outta here— drinking fourties’ like it’s still the eighties or some shit.” He jokes on his friend while shoving him, the pair walking away alongside one another.

While her fiancé was gone, she decided to have another drink then came another one. As much as she was drinking, she had to use the bathroom. Upon completing what she needed to do, she found herself staring at herself in the mirror.

There she stood. Face made up to perfection with the compliments of MAC and Chanel. Expensive blonde tresses falling just below her backside. A long sleeved shirt that read Moschino in red and white letters. A pair of dark red leather pants crafted perfectly by well-known brand, Versace. As well as a pair of black heeled Chanel boots.

Her ears adorned in diamond earrings that read ‘C’ as well as an iced out chain sitting upon her breasts that spelled out her fiance’s name. Lifting her manicured left hand, the diamond band stares right back at her.

Honestly, Yaya couldn’t believe her life, at times. She’s had her fair share of boyfriends yet none of them amounted to her Cassius. Her noah.

She was with him when he had nothing, still trying to scrape and figure his finances out. Now they were living lavish, money was no longer an issue. Yaya could go shopping whenever she pleased; closet filled with designer bags, shoes, clothes, jewelry.

He promised her the world and everything in it, fulfilling every promise he made.

Despite how well he treated her and kept her looking nice, it can all grow quite overwhelming. Yaya wasn’t used to having nice things especially during her childhood.

She was born to an alcoholic mother and a crack fiend of a father whom sold their belongings for their own personal gain and habits. At times, she had to fend for herself, so it was really rough growing up.

Retail therapy became her best-friend now that she has the funds. But it wasn’t always that way. During her teenage years, alcohol became a friend of hers. That habit hadn’t seem to die since then.

Stumbling out of the spacious bathroom, she heads for the stairs while holding onto the ledge as much as she could. Her current state earned a few stares yet she continues on her way to the pool room.

Individuals surrounded the pool table, engulfed in the sight of Cassius and Exodus have a showdown. She joins the crowd, smiling slightly. Their game of pool seemed to be growing intense as Exodus threw a wad of cash onto the table, shouting, “Put your fuckin’ money where your mouth is, mothafucka.” A grin amongst his two-toned lips.

“You tryna play me again after I done beat yo’ ass for what the… second time?” He speaks arrogantly, popping his nonexistent collar several times.

Arrogance pouring over his fresh tall frame as he daps up a few individuals surrounding him. As he does so, Yaya couldn’t help to notice a trio of females standing behind him and cheering him on loudly. She didn’t like that shit, at all.

She wasn’t one to judge a book by its cover but they looked like hoes, dressed in the tightest and shortest outfits as if they didn’t live in New York and feel the 50 degree windy weather outside. They were definitely looking for the wrong attention, from the wrong person.

“What, nigga? Scared Im’ma beat you this time?” Exodus smirks.

“You know what? X wants the fuckin’ heat, Im’ma bring the fuckin’ heat. Let me spank that ass one good, last time.” Upon finishing his cocky comment, one of three women from the trio struts closer to Cassius and caresses his clothed back. A smile upon her bright face.

That was the last straw.

Yaya wastes no time to march to the scene, “Excuse me, yo?” She makes her presence known earning a plethora of stares. “Take your fuckin’ hands off my nigga.” Her tone rude and harsh, eyes piercing into the woman’s direction whom glances her upward and downward in confusion.

The mood in the entire room immediately shifts. “Who the fuck are you? First of all, I don’t even know you for you to be coming at me like that.” The woman does remove her touch but she was defensive, prepared to defend herself in any way shape or form.

“I’m his fiancée, bitch. Who the fuck is you?”

The minute the young woman began to get in her face is when Cassius intervened, he pulls Yaya into his embrace and shoves his woman behind his frame with a heavy sigh. “Both of y’all calm the fuck down. You…” He demands calmly, trailing off while planting his attention onto the angry unknown woman whom was trying to get closer to Yaya. “can back the fuck up.”

“Nah, ‘cause who she calling a bitch? Then this bitch got the nerve to come at me sideways about a nigga I ain’t even fuck? This hoe done lost her rabbit ass mind, yo.”

“Hoe?” Yaya chuckles drunkenly, foot tapping against the floor. “Look at you, bitch. Go find another nigga to give VD. But not this one. Learn to keep your fuckin’ stank ass hands to yourself. Point blank fucking period, yo.” Cassius shakes his head, sighing yet again.

This is the exact reason he didn’t want her drinking.

“Yo, I don’t know who you is but you making my girl feel some type of way so I’m gon’ ask you to walk away. Politely.” Cassius intervenes, preventing his woman from causing any harm. With the amount of liquor in her system? She would beat a bitch ass with no absolute hesitation.

The unknown woman tilts her head backward in offense, “Why the fuck I gotta leave? No disrespect, mothafucka, you ain’t my daddy. I was here first. It ain’t my fault yo’ bitch is insecure.” She was getting mad disrespectful with the mouth. Neither Cassius or Yaya was feeling it.

Cassius bit his tongue, knowing it held the power of making her cry. She didn’t deserve his energy. This broad was a nobody.

As much as a hothead Yaya happens to be, she attempts to reach over the tall male and lunge at the woman but fails. Eventually, grasping a pool stick and attempting to hit the woman with the item instead.

“Cassius? Let me go!” She shouts, more than prepared to fuck her up. In the midst of the madness, he remained calm and maintained his tight grip to block her from making any sudden movements.

“Aight, aight. Yo, you and your homegirls gotta get the fuck up outta here. Y’all sucking up the energy.” Derek overheard the commotion and decided to intervene, motioning the trio to the exit of his home.

“Fine. This shit was wack anyways. Girl, that nigga ain’t all that for you to be acting like a damn mental patient for.” The trio were on their way out the door, laughing loudly amongst themselves at what just took place a second ago.

Cassius shook his head angrily, “What type of fuckin’ nappy headed disrespectful ass broads you be invitin’ in here, man?” He quizzes his friend, connecting he and Yaya’s hands. “Yeah, nigga. We out.” Not only was Yaya upset, Cassius was too and just as much.

“Damn, nigga. Slow down.” She sends the male a harsh mug as he practically drags her out of the mansion by a tight grip on her hand.

Remaining silent is what he does because if he opened his mouth… Cassius would be bound to go off. He didn’t want to cause another scene in front of hundreds of people again.

Upon opening the passenger door for the young woman, shaking his head disappointingly, observing as she stumbled onto her seat. Her eyes search around, catching sight of the trio standing in front of Derek’s home, staring in the couple’s direction in pure hatred.

Childishly, she sticks out her tongue and flips all three of the women a bird before Cassius shuts the door behind her. He sends the trio an eye roll, strolling over to the driver side then opens his door, flipping the women off as well and hopping into his Benz.

————

Silence filled their two story home. Marijuana smoke clouding the living area. The light from the television being Cassius’ only source of light as he watches reruns of ‘Fresh Prince Of Bel Air’. He didn’t laugh, he didn’t say a word. He just sat in pure silence as he smoked his blunt.

Meanwhile, Yaya saunters down the steps after a much needed shower and hopping out of bed upon realizing her man wasn’t spooning her. “Baby?” No response. He’s clearly upset and she could tell, she could feel it.

“Cassius, I know you hear me talking to you.” She joins him on the couch, sending multiple pecks to the side of his face and neck. “Come to bed, papa.” Her chin leaning against his left shoulder, running her hand across his fresh fade adorned with his black durag.

Still, he gives her the silent treatment.

“Cassius?” She summons his name yet again.

“You got a problem.” He speaks for the first time in hours. Head planted to the television screen.

“What?” She quizzes in confusion, eyebrows furrowing together and moving away from him slightly.

“Your drinking is starting to get out of control.”

Instantly, her head tilts backward as her nose turns up as if he was speaking another language. What he said isn’t foreign at all. She understood every single word he spoke but that didn’t mean she isn’t offended.

“I’ve been drinking since I was thirteen, Cassius. I’m a grown ass woman and I can handle my damn liquor.”

Shaking his head, “That’s the issue.” Kissing her teeth, she began to speak until it was too late. “You been like that since I met you. I ain’t notice it then but I’m seeing it through now. It’s cool to have a drink every once in awhile but you… you have a couple drinks then another few drinks, eventually the whole bottle.” He began acknowledging his observations over the years, no longer ignoring them.

Now that they were getting married, a lot of issues couldn’t go unaddressed.

“You stressed? Are you stressed about the wedding? What’s going on? Talk to me.” Taking a pull from his blunt, Yaya observes him before scoffing. He had some nerve to try to point out her ‘issues’ as if he doesn’t have any.

“I want to marry you. That’s a no brainer but you’re trying to claim I’m the one with the habit here, yet you smoke weed twenty damn times a fuckin’ day.”

Suddenly, Cassius began to choke on the smoke as a laugh of disbelief clawed its way through his throat. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe she was trying— no she wasn’t even trying. She’s flipping this shit on him completely.

“Yo, what?” He starts, “I ain’t the one who spazzed on some broad tonight. Just saying.” His hands go up in the air for a second, blunt between his lips.

“That bitch was touching you without permission. I had every right to react the way I did. Meanwhile, you and Exodus were too busy having a dick swinging contest—”

“Aight, aight, aight, baby. I ain’t arguing with yo’ ass tonight. We all got problems that not even money can solve. I love you enough to call you out on your shit. So, let’s leave it at that.” He shrugs, continuing to smoke his blunt without any absolute shame. “And ain’t nothing wrong with weed. It’s an herb. Word.” She sends him an eye roll, plopping her back against the couch.

Similar to a broken record, tonight’s events starts replaying in her head. From the moment the couple arrived and left, her drinking in between their time there. She hadn’t even realized it as she mindlessly poured as many cups as she could the moment her fiancé waltzed off with Exodus.

Yaya knew he would have stopped her like he did prior before leaving her by her lonesome, thinking he was just being bossy and controlling. In reality, he was aware of her dangerous habit yet she didn’t realize it herself.

Her mother was in denial. Her father was in denial. Yet where did their habits lead them? To the grave.

Tears cascades along her cheeks and as much she attempts to hold them back, she couldn’t. She was still drunk and when she’s under the influence, she’s extremely dramatic and overly emotional. But these tears… weren’t just any tears or her being downright dramatic. These were tears for her parents.

The tears she didn’t cry at neither of their funerals.

“I apologize for embarrassing you, papa.” She cries softly and he wastes no time to embrace the woman, his blunt being the least of his worries and now sitting into the ashtray for later.

“You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for, baby.” He sends a peck to her forehead as she melts into his arms, loving this side of him. She wished her father would embrace her this way.

One of Cassius’ nicknames happened to be Papa. He accepted her for who she is, never sought out to change her and loved her unconditionally. He’s also more than fully equipped to be a daddy; financially, emotionally, physically, and mentally.

Out of all of the men she’s ever been romantically involved with, Cassius’ also known as Papa handled her with care and picked her up when she was down. Never once neglected her like the other men had, like her father had.

He’s her noah, alright.

Lifting her head, she looks him in the eye, “I love you.” She meant it. “I love you to the moon and back for putting up with me the way you do and to this day I don’t know how. You never left my side and I’m so grateful for a man like you.”

“And I ain’t never leaving you. It’s you and I till the day we die.” Her eyes were watery, sniffling as she gave him her undivided attention while he spoke. “I love that big brain inside of this dome of yours. I love these pretty eyes. I love this pretty nose…” He taps the bridge of her nose. “I love these pretty lips,” His thumb trailing across her soft lips before leaning in to plant two pecks amongst the pair.

“I love this body. Inside and out. Never stop being who you are ‘cause I love every part of you, from your flaws— your imperfections. You got my heart.”

“You got my heart.” She replies with a smile, whispering close to his lips and connecting them yet again. This union more passionate than the last.

“Damn. I love you.” He speaks within their kiss, climbing on top of the woman.

Suddenly, Yaya disconnects their lip-locking and turns on her stomach while lifting her purple lace thigh-length night gown to reveal her bare plump bottom. Her top row of pearly whites embeds into her bottom lip the moment he sends a rough smack to her backside.

At this point, they were completely bare and exposed. Cassius fills her up with his curved phallus, the couple moaning softly at the sensation of one another. They felt right at home. No matter how many times they made love, they never got tired of one another.

His firm grip on each side of her waist tightened so she couldn’t run, not that she would anyway. Yaya always took him like a pro and never complained about his large size. She handled it whenever and however she desired while making him feel good on the same accord.

The side of her canvas smushed into the arm of the leather couch, mouth wide open, eyelids fluttering from the sensation of Cassius’ dick driving in and out of her passionately yet slowly. His chest pressed against her back, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

“Oh, shit.” She moans aloud, french tip mid-length acrylics raking through his facial hairs. Her nectar dripping along his member and pelvic area. “Faster, papa…” Her tone pleads and he does as requested, speeding up his pace yet making sure she felt everything.

Yaya’s jaw drops as her body is being shoved back and forth alongside each stroke. Ecstasy pouring within her veins, lips shaking while crying out through the pleasure and pain. Blonde tresses falling out of its ponytail, wildly covering the woman’s face. Meanwhile, Cassius was focused on pleasuring his fiancée.

The gripping, the tugging, the wetness, the way her ass clapped as she threw it back on him; Cassius was in ecstasy too.

His top row of pearly whites digs into his bottom lip, grabbing a hold of her hair and forcing her head backward. Their eyes connecting, both jaws agape. “How much you love this dick?” Her eyebrows furrow together yet again, eyelids shutting while her pink tongue drags across her lips.

“I…” She began only to take a pregnant pause the moment his free hand comes into contact with her throbbing center, rubbing in circles. “Mm,” A pent up sensation creeps amongst her. “Cassius—” The young woman couldn’t contain her juices, squirting due to overstimulation.

“Mhm.” He encourages her, continuing his actions which would ultimately drive her up the wall. “I asked you a question, baby.”

“I love this dick…” She whimpers weakly, biting down on her lip.

Suddenly, Cassius’ switches their position so that his back is against the couch while the woman is on top of his lap. Face to face. Her arms enveloping his neck, bare hourglass frame moving up and down passionately. They were freeing their minds, finding themselves moaning and groaning. His hands palming and sending multiple smacks to her backside on several occasions.

They couldn’t keep their eyes off of one another with the exception of tossing their head backwards or shutting their eyelids for a second.

For a sharp moment, Yaya slides his soaked member out of her wetness and taps it against her center before squirting once more. A loud, pornographic moan falling from her lips as she returns him to his rightful position. Her gushiness and wet skin clapping making a track of its own.

“Look what you do to me, papa.” Her dainty hands caressing his chest, referring to the wetness she possessed. She was perfectly crafted in God’s hands.

“Damn, shorty.” Her fiance speaks in disbelief and pure arousal, hands trailing across her breasts then her flat stomach and eventually her throbbing center. “Fuck, I love this pussy…” His tone low, full of lust and desire. “What did I do to deserve you?”

The thought of the two getting married crosses his mind, envisioning his woman in a beautiful white gown trailing down the flower decorated aisle. A smile etched upon her captivating face as their brown irises remained onto one another’s.

Their honeymoon in her hometown, Trinidad, like they planned. Kids.

His touch trails amongst her belly, their faces barely an inch from one another, “This where our babies gon’ grow. Fuck…” His jaw drops, feeling his orgasm approaching. “Damn, you fuckin’ amazin’.” Not only is she the bomb in general but so is her pussy.

The hole is fit for his size, popping and snapping at him because as Yaya would say ‘she loves him’. Cassius’ believed her from the moment they first made love due to how she reacted and he didn’t even need to touch it.

“All this for me, shorty?” His tongue dragging across his lips, low gaze peering a hole into the woman’s being.

“Mhm.” She hums, hips moving in a circular motion. “This your pussy, papa.” Planting a loving peck amongst his lips.

“Yeah, I know. You ain’t gon’ give my shit away, right?” He began forcing her body up and down, snatching the breath out of her while staring into her soul. Though, he’s been snatching her soul the entire time.

“Never… fucking never… ah,” A plethora of whimpers falling behind her response shortly after. “Ouu, Cee, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“Mhm, let that shit go.” And so she did. Unraveling amongst him as he did, inside of her, ensuring that every drop entered her warm walls. “Good girl.” He praises her with a groan, planting sensual kisses along her neck.

“Shit, I love you.” The young woman connects their lips into a passionate union, panting heavily.

“I love you.” He speaks, continuing to stare in the direction of his fiancée under his almost squinty eyes and perfectly curled eyelashes. His gaze low, completely underneath her spell.

“Let’s go again in the shower, yeah?” Happily, she garners enough strength to pull him off of the couch and lead him upstairs. He mindlessly followed. Yeah, she has him sprung.

[cupidcures]

When Tulips Kiss | Hwang Hyunjin SMAU

CHAPTERS: 𝜗𝜚 two | three | 𝜗𝜚 four

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

CONTAINS: alcohol consumption

LOVESTAY NIGHTCLUB!!!

Applying a pink shade of powdered blush on the apples of your cheeks, you finish your look off with a subtle highlight on the bridge of your nose, your inner corners, and finally, your cheekbones. Spritzing a fine mist of setting spray on your face, you open your eyes to see your roommate staring at you from the mirror, and you can’t help but let out a short laugh.

“Is there something I can help you with??” You asked the starry-eyed girl as she blinked herself back to awareness, smiling shyly.

“Actually yes!! I needed help to zip up the back of my dress, but wow… I got distracted by your beauty, seriously! It’s unmatched. I really do have the most beautiful friends ever.” Chuu smiles at you in complete fondness as you stand up with a smile to match hers, turning her around to zip the back of her dress.

“You are what you surround yourself with! You are so incredible, inside AND out. Are you ready to go?” You question as you sit back down on the vanity bench to put your pink heels on to match your outfit. Chuu nods her head and playfully curtsies before stretching out her hand for yours.

“Shall we go, M’lady?” She drops her voice an octave to imitate that of a man as you laugh at her antics, giving your hand into hers.

It was no wonder why Chuu was so popular and loved by everyone she came across. Ever since you had known her, she had always been the type of girl to see the best in everyone and somehow help bring it out of them. She was always so open-minded about everything and was always encouraging others to do whatever they please and not let other people drag them down. You wrapped your arm around hers while the two of you walked in the direction towards the nightclub since it wasn’t that far away from campus anyway, and money was tight for the both of you right now to spend it on a cab. LOVESTAY Nightclub was, and still is, the buzz around campus. Pretty much every university and college within 30 miles of the vicinity went to this specific nightclub, so to say you were a little excited is an understatement. You and Chuu walked down the street in comfortable silence, occasionally pointing at stray cats and small birds on the road, squealing over them. You’re not sure how much time passed by, maybe ten minutes? Or was it fifteen? Until you arrived at the front of the nightclub. The vivid glow of the neon sign painted the duo’s skin with a red gloss.

“You just gonna stand there and look at the sign? Let’s go Y/N!!” Chuu tugged and led the way inside the club as your eyes looked around, admiring the atmosphere. There wasn’t much you could see due to the dim lighting paired with the blaring lights, so you were thankful that Chuu’s grip on your hand was secure. Otherwise, you would have undoubtedly gotten lost in the crowd for sure.

“Do you want to sit down at the bar for some drinks first???” Chuu questioned in a yell, as the music made it difficult to hear each other even within arms distance.

“Yeah!!! I haven’t drunk alcohol in a hot minute though, so I’ll just take it easy tonight!!!” You yelled back as she nodded in agreement before taking the both of you to the bar, taking a seat on the stools. The music was a bit quieter on this side of the club, much to your relief. It’s not often that you go to places like this, so it’s still not something you’re used to, but it’s almost always a fun experience. Maybe not the brightest idea to go when you have to go back to class the following day, MORNING even. As if on cue, Chuu taps your shoulder as you turn your head to face her, only to be greeted with a sheepish grin.

“Maybe we should have just gone on a Friday night, now that I really think about it. If you change your mind about being here, I’m not complaining!!” Chuu laughs a little as you laugh along. As much as she’s an amazing person to be around, her decisions are often impromptu, but you believe that’s just one of the many reasons why she’s an incredible friend. There’s never a dull moment whenever you’re with her.

“It’s okay, I wanna stay! We don’t have to do a lot of dancing or drinking tonight, honestly just hanging out with you is enough.” You teasingly flirt with your close friend as she playfully rolls her eyes and nudges your side. You share your laughs for a little bit before a good-looking bartender approaches the two of you.

“Hey! Can I get you both anything to drink?” The handsome young man, seemingly in his early-mid twenties, questions with a small smile. You both look at each other with a look before bursting out into giggles. Chuu knew you too well, this guy was your type. While she isn’t attracted to men, she can most definitely tell when a man is handsome, and the bartender definitely was.

“Nothing for me, thanks. But this girl right here?” Chuu points at you before winking, “She’ll have a drink. Y/N I’m gonna go on the dance floor!!!!!!” She blows you a kiss, and before you could have protested, she dashes off to god knows where. You shake your head at your friend’s outburst before turning back to the man with a smile, who then returned it.

“So then, what would the pretty lady want to drink for tonight?” He asks once more, waiting for your answer as you stop to think about it. You’re not much of a drinker, so you’re not really educated on all the kinds of drinks. The only drink you know and enjoy is the- “Midori Sour, please.”

He lets out a small chuckle and nods at you. “Cute drink for a cute girl. I’ll make it right away.” He goes to mix up the drink, leaving you there a little dazed at his comment. You take this time to turn your body around and scan the crowd in hopes of seeing Chuu, but sadly she was nowhere to be found. You heard the glass clink on the table in front of you, causing you to direct your attention back to the bartender.

“Your Midori Sour.” He slides the glass over to you as you thank him for the drink.

“It’s on the house, I’ll pay for it. My name’s Minho, it’s a pleasure meeting you….?” The man, who you now know as Minho, trails off, presumably so you could tell him your name.

“Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you too! How long have you been working here?” You tilt your head and rest your chin in the palm of your hand. His eyes widen a bit at the mention of your name, but it goes unnoticed by you.

“Y/N, huh? I’ve been working here for a little over six months. How about you? Do you work? Or are you just focusing on college right now?” His demeanor stays as smooth as before like nothing had happened. You nod in acknowledgment before going on to answer his question.

“I work at my grandma’s floral boutique, Song of the Flowers. Have you heard of it? It’s a little ways down the road from here!” You mentioned with noticeably more energy than you had before. You love to talk about the family business whenever it’s brought up, as it’s something you’re proud of and something you plan on continuing, so you hope to promote it as much as you can, whenever you can. Minho laughs at your sudden burst of energy and pats your head.

“I haven’t, but I’ll definitely come by to check you it out.” He remarks and grins at you. There’s a bit of silence between the two of you and you take this time to intake his beauty. Wow. He’s fucking BREATHTAKING. The black button-up shirt that isn't buttoned up all the way, the rolled sleeves exposing his muscular forearms. Holy. Shit. Your eyes travel back up to his eyes. He’s got long eyelashes too, what else does he have?

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look?” You blurted out without thinking, your face turning red. You grab your drink and chug it halfway as you hear his melodic laugh echo in your head. He has a pretty laugh too? What the FUCK.

“I wouldn’t say beautiful, but handsome yes. You think I’m beautiful??” He teases and flashes you a cheeky smirk.

“I- uh. Yeah, I do. Sorry I need to look for my friend, it’s getting late. Thank you so much for the company tonight! I hope I see you around, maybe at the boutique? Anyways bye Minho!!!” You rushed your words out of your mouth in a panic, and before he could even respond, you dashed away just the same as your friend did to you moments ago. You take your phone out of your pocket, only to find text messages from Chuu, saying that she went back to the dorm room, but that she called a cab to wait for you outside the nightclub, and you couldn’t be any more thankful.

Minho chuckles to himself while shaking his head. Was that really the same Y/N that his friend despises so much? Minho had only met Hyunjin this year so he didn’t know as much as the others did, but he hoped that it was a different Y/N. He’s almost sure that it was a different Y/N, because there’s no way this is the same backstabbing girl he described. He continues on with his shift, images and thoughts of you fogging his mind.

A/N: yes, this is still a hyunjin x reader smau LOL. just wanted to add a little drama before we get there🤔 i wasn’t kidding abt the slow burn! not proofread, sorry if it’s a little messy hehe…

𝜗𝜚 WTK series masterlist

TAGLIST (OPEN)! @jeonginplsholdmyhand @jeonginsgirl @mlrroh @mafiulaputaama @seungzsmin @hannie-bees

if your blog was italicized, it means i wasn’t able to tag you :’(

[gnabnahc317cb97]

Not Like Me

Bang Chan x Female reader

Word count: 4.6K

A/N: 18+ only! This is just 100% because I am Christopher Bang trash and he has ruined me with that God damn nose ring! This is nothing but absolute filth, soft filth but filth nonetheless. If you enjoy reading it give it a like, reblog, leave a comment an ask whatever. I enjoy reading peoples thoughts and reactions! As usual warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: MDNI 18+ONLY! Strong language/cursing, Mentions of casual sex, dry humping, oral (m receiving) cum eating, fingering, protected piv sex, use of sex toys, squirting. Hella praise and pet names (beautiful, baby girl etc) a little impact play, Chris has a little bit of a corruption kink if you squint. I think that's everything but if I ever miss something that should be in the warning please let me know and I will add it!

You were backed through the door of an apartment you had never been in with hands that had never touched you exploring your body and you couldn’t help but wonder how you’d gotten there. Attached to the lips of a man you barely knew, that was completely out of your league. Christopher Bang. Even his name was cooler than you. After he kicked the door closed behind him your hands came up, pushing at his firm chest, stopping him. He pulled away and looked at you, examining your face for any discomfort with what he had been doing. You looked at him too but you were rendered speechless by his beauty that was outlined by the moonlight coming through his windows. His dark hair was swept away from his face, his brown eyes held a depth that made you wander and lose yourself in them, he had a wide, strong nose with a dainty silver hoop in one nostril, and the softest, plumpest lips you had ever seen let alone touched.

The silver hoops in his ears matched the nose ring he was sporting and with a leather jacket, ripped up band t-shirt, shredded jeans, and shit kicker boots to round out the ensemble, it drove home the fact that this man was exponentially hotter and cooler than you and you had no idea why he wanted his hands and lips on you. You were so plain. You wore clothes that, while they weren’t unfashionable, were not as revealing as the clothing most girls your age were wearing to bars and clubs. You had dyed your hair the same boring color since you were sixteen and you did your makeup one-way. In five minutes with natural neutral shades. You blended into a crowd 100% of the time and you could not be more opposite of the man that was currently holding you in his arms. You must have been standing there in your head staring at him for a long time because Chris finally broke the silence that was lingering between you.

“Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” You blinked quickly and shook your head as you gathered your thoughts back up, trying to figure out how answer him so that he didn’t think he had done something wrong. It wasn’t him, it was just, to describe your sex life as vanilla would still probably be too spicy.

“No, um... I... I just have never done anything like this before. Go home with a stranger I mean. Not that you’re strange I just mean someone strange to me... I MEAN... oh god I’m gonna shut up now.” You buried your face in your hands as it turned multiple shades of pink. Chris laughed and pulled your hands away.

“I know what you’re trying to say. I don’t usually do stuff like this either but you’re just so... so gorgeous and smart and funny.” He placed kisses down your jaw and neck after each compliment. Your eyes fluttered closed and you started to melt under his lips again. He held your face and pressed a kiss softly against your lips, then stopped and looked at you again.

“But if this is too much too fast, we can stop. I don’t want you to think just because were here and have been making out that you have to do anything you don’t want. I’m okay if you're not comfortable going any further. We can just go to bed and go to sleep.” Your heart beat faster at his sweet words and you smiled at him.

“No, I want to... you. I want you, I just... well I don’t... ugh...” You gripped his jacket tightly unsure of your words. Chris pushed some stray hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Whatever you want to say, it’s okay. You can say it. What is it?” After his assurance the words just kind of spilled from your mouth.

“Why me?” Chris’ brows furrowed and he looked surprised by your question.

“What do you mean why you?” You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose suddenly wishing you had just shut up instead of asking such a stupid question. Chris pulled your hand away again making you look at him.

“What do you mean why you Y/N?” You bit at your lips nervous to voice a big insecurity to a literal stranger but then word vomit took over again.

“I mean look at you and look at me. You're beautiful and I’m so boring and there were girls there that were more... your type...” Chris cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

“My type?” You shrugged your shoulders looking down at the ground, your shoes, anywhere but Chris’ face.

“Well, girls that would seem more your type and... they were... prettier than me. I’m just... I’m plain in comparison. Why would you want me over some girl that looks like she belongs in a music video?” Chris tilted your chin up making you look at him.

“Like I said Y/N, you’re smart and funny and I think you’re absolutely gorgeous. You are the kind of beautiful that outshines every woman around you in a place like that, it’s why I noticed you as soon as I walked in.” He leaned back and pulled you further into his apartment, walking towards the couch in his living room, leading you along the way, taking off his leather jacket and tossing it aside.

“The way you dress too, it’s so sexy; I can see your curves and edges but I still have a whole present to unwrap and discover and you had this nonchalant confidence when you were sitting there. Not cocky or stuck up. You were comfortable just sipping your drink there alone, like you didn’t need anyone to come on to you or ask for your number to feel good about yourself. It was so fucking sexy I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” Chris sat down on the couch and pulled you down to straddle his lap and you sat on top of him. His hands ghosted over your shoulders and down your arms sending a shiver through your body. In all honesty you looked like that cause you hoped no one would. You weren’t really out to hook up, you were out because you’d had a terrible day and you wanted to drink and forget. Chris just happened to be the man that walked up to you and how could you resist him.

“I was actually nervous to approach you at first but you were way to enticing to pass up meeting.” He leaned in and started pressing wet kisses down your neck again. Everything he said rendered you speechless. He thought you were sexy, thought you were enticing, confident? You tilted your head back giving him better access to your neck and shoulder as you balanced yourself on his lap, your hands on his strong broad shoulders. You pushed your hips down and felt Chris erection pressing against you. He hissed and bit down on your shoulder when you applied more friction against him. His hands slid down your sides coming to rest on your hips and he started to guide your movements as he continued to explain 'why you '.

“Then when I talked to you. God you were so shy it was so cute. You were not at all what I had expected. You were so sweet it kind of made me want to corrupt you, do nasty things to your body.” His teeth grazed your throat and you moaned and clenched at his words. He kept talking and his breathing started to come out labored the more worked up he got. You could feel his dick getting harder pressing against your aching core as he worked you faster against him.

“Fuck baby girl! Feels so good!” Hearing his declaration of how good you were making him feel lit something inside you. You wrapped your arms around Chris’ neck as he wrapped his around your waist, pulling you closer to him, your chests pressed together. He attacked your mouth, dipping his tongue into yours in between nibbles of your lips as you continued dry humping him like you were horny teenagers.

“Ch-Chris... I’m...” You were struggling to form words but Chris nodded understanding.

“It’s okay baby girl, let go, cum, ruin those panties for me.” You moaned out his name as you came hard. You clutched on to Chris, finger nails digging in as he thrusted his hips up into yours helping you ride out your wave of ecstasy. After, you laid there straddling his lap, your head resting on one of his broad shoulders, trying to catch your breath as he traced shapes on your back, soothing you, bringing you back down. When the fog in your brain cleared you sat back up looking at him. You weren’t sure who was blushing more now, you or him. You traced your fingers over his face admiring the smallest details, his freckles, the slit shaved into one of his eyebrows, that damn nose ring that looked so fucking good on him. You ran your fingers down the bridge of his nose and he closed his eyes. You drug them down his lips pulling his plump bottom lip down a bit before cupping his strong jaw and kissing him. Now it was your turn to start peppering kisses down his jaw and neck, sucking and biting at his ear, listening to the little breaths he let out when you kissed a sweet spot on him. You slid off of Chris’ lap and knelt down on the floor in front of him. When you got off of him Chris opened his eyes and when he saw you on your knees in front of him, he got a little light headed. You ran your hands up his thighs, over his clothed erection, and towards his belt buckle. As you started to loosen it Chris grabbed your hands and stopped you.

“You don’t have to do that...” You smiled up at him all doe eyed, it made him twitch in his pants.

"I mean I'm already really hard so... you don't have to..." You licked your lips.

“I know I don’t have to but if it’s okay with you, I want to. I want to taste you Chris.” He groaned and rolled his eyes back in his head.

“It's okay baby girl, you can taste it. Only if you want it though.” You bit your bottom lip and started undoing his belt and the button of his pants. He kicked his boots and socks off as you drug the zipper of his jeans down and then he lifted his hips helping as you pulled his pants and briefs down and off. When you saw his hard cock you were not the least bit surprised to see how pretty it was, just like the rest of him. It was above average size wise but not scary big. He was already so hard and leaking precum and you hadn’t really even touched him. Did he like making out with you that much? You gently grabbed the base of his cock and a with a wide, wet, flat tongue you licked a stripe up his shaft before taking him into your warm soft mouth.

“Oh, fuck Y/N! Oh my god that feels... GOD yes baby girl suck me just like that.” You hollowed your cheeks and started bobbing on his dick in earnest, taking him further each time. When the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat you relaxed and opened your mouth wider. Chris got the hint. His fingers weaved through your hair holding your head still as he started thrusting his hips up, fucking your throat. The squelching and gagging sounds coming from you as you coated his dick in drool was making him crazy.

“FUCK you’re so fucking good at that baby so fucking good at taking my cock in your throat FUCK you’re gonna make cum beautiful! I’m gonna cum!” He let go of your hair and you pulled off of him and started stroking the head of his cock hard and fast.

“In my mouth Chris, cum in my mouth.” You opened up your mouth and stuck out your tongue as you continued stroking him. It only took seeing you on your knees eagerly jerking him off with your mouth open and ready for him before he was filling your mouth with his big load, he didn’t think he was ever going to stop coming. You held Chris’ cum in your mouth and sucked on the tip of his cock making him shudder, getting every morsel of him before showing him all the cum in your mouth and then swallowing.

“You’re so fucking sexy! Come here gorgeous.” He cupped your face and crashed his lips against yours tasting himself when his tongue invaded your mouth. He stood up suddenly, gently pulling you up with him. He pulled his shirt off and stood in front of you looking like he was carved from marble and you admired the lines of his hard, defined, body.

“Fuck me.” You breathed out in amazement and Chris laughed at your unfiltered reaction.

“If that’s what you want...” He smirked and then lifted you and put you over his shoulder smacking and grabbing a handful of your ass as he carried you to his bedroom. You struggled and laughed the whole way there. Trying and failing to get him to put you down.

“Put me down Christopher!” At your request you were tossed on his big soft bed. You only stopped laughing when Chris’ hands slid up your body and started removing your clothes. Once he had you down to your panties your nerves had come back tenfold. You were about to be completely bare in front of this walking God that had his head between your legs, a breath away from your soaking core, his face closer to your pussy than anyone's had ever been. When Chris went to grab your panties your breathing hitched in your throat and he stopped, realizing you weren’t comfortable.

“Hey, are you okay? We can stop if you...” You shook your head before he could finish the sentence.

“No don’t stop just... nervous.” He ran his hands up and down your thighs gently, comforting you.

“Nervous about what baby girl?” You worried at your lips avoiding Chris’ eyes. You had never had a guy go down on you. Be so intimate with your sex.

“What if you don’t... like... what you see... down there?” Chris’ eyes softened at your words.

“Oh, beautiful...” Chris gently kissed the insides of your thighs. You closed your eyes and let out a shudder of a breath trying to get your nerves in control. He climbed up next to you and kissed you as he ran his hand down your body and you shivered at his touch.

“Is there something I can do to make you less nervous?” You shrugged and Chris nuzzled his nose against your cheek before placing another kiss on your lips.

“Maybe if you could... keep saying nice things to me...” Chris nodded and smiled, looking down at you.

“Oh, does my pretty girl like being praised?” You blushed but you guessed that was what you were saying and shook your head up and down. Chris went to crawl back down between your legs but you stopped him.

“Just... I want you to stay up here with me. I want to be close to you, see your face.” He tilted his head and a had a little puzzled expression on his face.

“You don’t want me to go down on you?” You shook your head no.

“Maybe the next time?” As soon as you said it you realized you just insinuated to a casual hook up that you expected a next time. Chris smiled at you.

“You want there to be a next time?” You had dug yourself a hole and you weren’t sure what the right answer was in this situation.

“I mean if you want there to be... I know this is just... I don’t mean to-” Chris kissed you stopping your tangent before you could even take off on it.

“I would love for there to be a next time Y/N.” You let out a sigh of relief and Chris started kissing your neck and shoulder as he slid his hand down your body. You started to relax a bit as he kissed and touched you. Chris pulled your panties to the side and started to gently run his fingers through your wet folds before softly playing with your clit. You let out a light breath at the contact.

“Is this okay baby girl?” You quickly shook your head not wanting him to stop.

“Yes Chris, faster.” Your words came out softly. Chris took your direction, he ran his fingers down your slit, collected more of your juices on his fingers, and then started rubbing your clit faster adding a little more pressure.

“You’re so wet for me beautiful, I bet my cock would slide right in you’re so soaked. Does it feel good gorgeous? Do you like my fingers?” He had his lips pressed to the shell of your ear like he was whispering dirty secrets to you. You were panting and nodding when his fingers dipped back towards your entrance and slid inside you.

“Fuck! Christopher!” He pushed in until his palm pressed against your clit and then curled his fingers and started pumping them into you deeper and deeper, the heel of his palm adding stimulation to your clit while he finger fucked you open.

“So pretty, you look so pretty falling apart on my fingers like that baby girl. Be a good girl and cum on them for me yea?” When you breathed out your yes Chris started fingering you faster and you went teetering over the edge of your second orgasm, convulsing on his bed like you were being shocked with live wires. Chris ran his other hand softly through your hair, placing gentle kisses against your face as he slowly worked you through the last of your climax. He took his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth cleaning your cum from them before climbing on top of you and continuing his sweet assault of kisses all over your face.

“My pretty girl, such a pretty pretty girl. So good coming for me like that and you taste so good. Are you gonna be a good girl and take my cock now too? Hmm?” You could feel his dick pressing against you fully hard again and ready. You pulled him down to kiss him again unable to stop yourself from savoring his full luscious lips. You whispered against them.

“Fuck me Chris.” That was all he needed to hear from your lips. You slid your panties off as Chris reached over to his night stand and pulled a condom out of the drawer. He ripped it open and rolled it down his cock. He sat back on his knees and lifted your hips placing a pillow under you to make you more comfortable. Then he spread your legs around him and lined his throbbing dick up with your entrance. He looked at you wanting one more confirmation that you wanted this as much as he did. The foreplay, the touching, condom on, none of that mattered. Chris would pull the plug on all of it if you didn’t want this. But you did. You ran your hands down his forearms and held on to his slender wrists, you smiled up at him and took your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I want you Chris, please.” He closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“God, I want you too baby girl.” Chris eased the tip of his cock inside you. Even through the condom you could feel how hard and warm he was, could feel him twitch as he pushed himself deeper inside you. When Chris bottomed out the tip of his dick nudged your g spot just right and you let out an unexpectedly loud moan. Without pulling out Chris thrusted into you harder hitting the same spot again and you couldn’t help the squeal of a moan that came from you that time.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun. Hold on beautiful.” That was the last thing Chris said before he gripped your hips tightly and started fucking you deep and hard. You held onto his wrists tightly; it was all you could do as he tried to split you in half with his cock.

“Fuck fuck fuck yes yes Chris yes fuck me hard just like that baby fuck!” Chris was losing his mind watching you underneath him taking his cock so well begging for more. He wanted to make you lose yourself, he wanted to make you forget everything else, wanted you to only be able to scream his name. He slowed his pace down but started rolling his hips as he thrusted into you reaching divine places inside of you that made your toes numb.

“Baby girl, I wanna do something... to you, with you. Would you let me show you?” You looked at Chris a bit wide eyed unsure of what he meant by that but you said yes. Even though you had only just met Chris, you trusted him because you knew if you didn’t like or want what he showed you he wouldn’t do it and would be okay with stopping. Chris leaned over his cock still buried deep in your dripping cunt. He reached into his night stand again and pulled out a wand vibrator. As soon as you saw it you clenched around his dick. You had never used a toy with a partner before but you liked the idea of trying it with Chris.

“I think you might be trying to kill me.” Chris laughed.

“Are you okay with it?” You smiled and nodded.

“Absolutely.” Chris grinned ear to ear and set the vibrator down on the bed next to you. He grabbed your hips and started slowly sliding in and out of you again, teasing you, fucking you with enough force to make it feel really good but not enough to make you cum. Once you were lost in the rhythm of Chris’ thrusts, your eager hips meeting his every time he pushed into you, he picked up the vibrator, held it gently against your pussy, clicked it on the lowest setting, and started fucking you harder. If you had to bet money on the over under of the time it took you to cum once Chris turned on that vibrator, you’d have to guess about 5 seconds. It was like the finger of God came down and touched you. You had never cum so hard in your life. Chris clicked the vibrator back off and fucked you hard through your orgasm.

“Chris fuck, fuck, Ch-Christopher, FUCK!!” Chris slowed down and then stopped to feel your walls flutter around his cock as you shook uncontrollably under him.

“F-f-ffuck Chris! FUCK!” Your body contorted in pleasure as he gently ran his fingertips over your buzzing skin.

“You with me? You okay baby girl?” You shook your head up and down gnawing at your lips, coming down from the mind-blowing orgasm Chris had just given you.

“Talk to me beautiful I want to hear that pretty voice. Are you okay?” You finally opened your eyes and looked up at him.

“MMMYes, Chris I’mmm okay baby.” He smiled at the use of the pet name.

“Good girl, so good for me.” He leaned over and pressed kisses against your warm body.

“I’m gonna lay down here baby girl and I want you to climb on top of me and ride my dick like it’s yours beautiful.” He climbed off of you and laid down on his back. You got on top of him and sunk down on his thick cock. Before you could start moving Chris pulled you down on top of him. He gripped your hair gently, kissed you and then pressed his lips to your ear.

“I want you to ride my cock like it’s yours baby girl, because it fucking is. Now take it.” His words came out as a growl and it made your pussy gush around him. You pushed yourself up on his chest, braced yourself, palms down against his pectoral muscles and started riding him like a god damn porn star, grinding and gyrating your hips against his, taking his cock whole again and again. All Chris could do was hold on to your hips as you bounced on his dick.

“FUCK Y/N! FUCK! God damn baby ride it! Ride that fucking cock! Take it baby girl!” Chris gave your ass a smack as you continued to fuck his brains out. You sat all the way down on him, taking him to the hilt and started rocking back and forth, your clit, already sensitive from the multiple orgasms he had given you, rubbing against his firm pelvic muscles.

“Oh my God Chris you feel so fucking good inside me, so fucking DEEP!” You clenched hard around him and his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Fuuuuuuck baby girl, you’re being so good for me, you’re my good girl aren’t you. So- fuck! So fucking good, gonna make me cum!” You closed your eyes, tilted your head back and ran your hands through your hair enjoying the feeling of Chris being so deep inside you, you moved your hips hard against Chris’, your cunt swallowing his cock whole. Chris picked up the vibrator again and pressed it against your clit and the spot just over his cock you were riding. He clicked it on and all the way up. You left your body, you were certain of it. You could feel yourself floating. It was instantaneous. As soon as Chris clicked on you were coming, contracting and squeezing his cock with your walls, the vibrations from the wand rumbling through his body as well. It was like his cock was buzzing inside you.

“CHRIS, CHRIS, FUCKING FUCK, CHRIS YES FUUUUCK CHRISTOPHER!!” You started squirting and Chris tossed the vibrator aside as he came hard into the condom while you drenched him. You twitched and shook as your rode his cock through the high. Chris sat up with you in his lap holding you close as he started to soften inside you.

“Fuck baby so fucking sexy! You did so good for me, made me cum so fucking hard baby girl.” He leaned you back and laid you down on the bed softly, his hands behind your head. He took off the condom and tossed it before laying down next to you, pulling you close and spooning you, running his hands across your sensitive skin again. You loved the way Chris’ hands felt on you, they felt strong and he made you feel safe. After he cuddled you for a bit Chris went to get cleaned up and grab clean sheets. When he came back he had a clean warm rag for you as well. You stood up on wobbly legs and wiped yourself off while he put the dry sheets on the bed. Once you were done he took the rag and the old sheets and tossed them in the hamper in his closet. You stood there like a new born baby deer unsure on your legs and not really sure what was supposed to happen next. Do you lay back down? Do you get dressed and leave? Chris interrupted your thoughts when he took you in his arms again and kissed your temple.

“Come here baby girl.” He easily lifted you up like a bride and set you back down on the bed before climbing in and pulling the covers over you both. He pulled you close again nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“Is it okay if I hold you? I get kinda cuddly after I cum.” He let out a little laugh and you melted back into his hold.

“Yes it’s okay, feels nice.” As the two of you laid there falling asleep you remembered Chris mentioning when he first saw you, how you were nothing like what he expected and you realized, from when you first laid eyes on him at that bar, that he had been nothing like you had expected either.

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[e-dubbc11]

In Bloom

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: None really, maybe a swear word or two but extra fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 2.7k-ish

Summary: Part 1 of 3 (I think) Reader is in a bit of a romantic slump so she buys herself flowers every Friday until one day she finds out they’re already paid for.

A/N: Based on this ask/idea from my lovely lovely Lily @munsonownsmyass I hope you like it, my love ❤️

This girl is single and haven't had anyone in a while. Miss the intimacy. Just to make herself happy, she buys flowers for herself every Friday. But one day, the flowers have already been paid for. It's the same thing the next Friday. Then one day, there's a little note attached to the flowers....

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“When was the last time you went out on a date?”

Rolling your eyes, those words felt like a hard punch to the stomach coming from your mother.

Your Friday afternoon lunch with her felt like days. It all started with the lunch spot you chose…it wasn’t to her standards but then again nothing was. Nothing seemed to ever be good enough whether it was your job, the clothes you wore, the apartment you lived in, or the sandwich shop you picked for lunch.

It was all beneath her, sub-standard, and you had accepted the fact that nothing you do will ever be good enough for her so you just decided to continue to do whatever made you happy and not worry about what would be pleasing to her.

She tried like hell to mold you into what she wanted you to be, how she wanted you to dress, what she wanted you to do for a living, and even what kind of wedding she had wanted you to have. She didn’t succeed and when you called off your wedding to a man that looked perfect on paper but was a monster behind closed doors, she didn’t try as hard to make you into something that you just weren’t going to be.

She still took not-so subtle jabs though.

“Have a good weekend, hun. Try and get some sleep, you look tired.”

A visit with mom wasn’t complete until she commented on how you looked. It was definitely time to go.

The early autumn wind picked up as you walked from the sandwich place toward the flower shop which was a few blocks away. Your little Friday tradition was just something you had decided to do for yourself every week.

The flowers made your apartment just a little bit brighter and brought a smile to your face every time you looked at them on your dining room table.

You hadn’t really noticed the flower shop before but it presented itself when you needed a little cheering up.

It was after another bad first date, the third one in a row. You were walking home from the bar after yet another Wall Street type asshole had spent the early evening hours droning on and on about himself when the essence of rose attacked your sense of smell. It stopped you dead in your tracks and caused you to shift your eyes from the sidewalk to the door of the flower shop in front of you.

Bouquets of beautiful flowers were in buckets of water outside but so many more caught your eye that were inside so you decided to go in and look around.

“We close in fifteen minutes, Miss. Is there something specific you’re looking for?” The man behind the counter had asked with a warm smile.

You tried to smile back but it only came out as half a smile. “Something to make me feel better after a bad date?” You replied.

His expression tempered and you could tell he really wanted to help.

“Let me see what I can put together for you.” He said.

And he went to work pulling flowers from different buckets and arranging them into the most beautiful bouquet, wrapping them in paper and plastic and securing them with a ribbon. The bouquet was full of carnations, roses, gerbera daisies, and lilies…all in different shades of red and pink. It was almost like he knew they were two of your favorite colors.

Watching him meticulously put those flowers together for you already made you feel better about that night.

“Here you go, my dear. Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.” He said handing you the flowers.

You were absolutely stunned at how gorgeous they were and that was how you met Mr. Campbell, the sweetest little old man with the prettiest flowers in town which kept you coming back weekly for fresh ones.

After the taxing lunch you just had with your mother, it was time to make yourself feel better with your weekly flowers.

“Hi, Mr. Campbell. How are you today!?” You asked.

He shifted his gaze from the bouquet he was working on to greet you, pushing his glasses up that had slid down the bridge of his nose.

“My dear, y/n! Well, I can’t complain…I woke up again so that’s a good thing, plus I knew I’d get to see your smiling face today and that’s ALWAYS a good thing.” He said with excitement.

A wide smile stretched across your lips. “This is my favorite Friday stop, Mr. Campbell!” You said.

The corner of his mouth turned up and he raised his eyebrows. “You sure it’s not the liquor store, y/n?” He asked with a slight chuckle while looking at the bottle of wine in your hand.

You let out a full blown belly laugh. “Ok, well that’s my OTHER favorite Friday stop. You know I like my wine.” You said trying to control your laughter.

“What are you in the mood for today, my dear?” Mr. Campbell asked.

You inhaled sharply and let out a deep exhale. “Well I just had a very long and taxing lunch with my mother so something a little crazy with a lot of colors would be perfect.”

And that’s all he needed to hear. In a matter of minutes he moved from bucket to bucket, picking out every color flower he could get his fragile little hands on and arranged them especially for you into one crazy colored bouquet.

“Awww Mr. Campbell, they’re perfect, as always! Thank you!” You said handing him the money for the flowers and the nip of Jack Daniel’s you bought for him every Friday. “There’s better tasting whiskey out there, you sure you don’t want somethin’ else?”

“No, no…this is what I like y/n.” He said, getting back to the arrangement he was working on when you walked in.

“Ok, well you just let me know if you want something else. I gotta get goin’, I have a hot date with the couch and this wine when I get home.” You said sarcastically.

“It’s Friday night, my dear. You should go OUT on a date!” He said.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh no, don’t you start with me too Mr. Campbell. My mother said the same thing to me a little while ago. I’ll see you next week.” You said as you waved goodbye and reached for the door.

An incredibly handsome man on the other side of the door opened it for you and ushered you through. He was tall, with dark hair, a short beard, eyes as dark as the night sky and a perfect smile.

You smiled back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He said.

You didn’t look back and headed for home.

The flower shop after you left.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Russo. The usual for you today?” Mr. Campbell asked.

Billy had his long overcoat tucked under his arm, watching with a smile as he watched you walk down the street until you were out of sight.

“Yes please, Luther. That would be great.” Billy said softly as he paced around looking at all the different flowers.

Mr. Campbell had caught Billy looking at you when you left the shop.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she.” He stated, raising his eyebrows.

Billy thought he had acted nonchalant while checking you out. “What?” Billy asked. “Oh…yes…she is. Was that her first time in here?”

“She comes in every Friday and buys flowers for herself.” Mr. Campbell said.

A sly smirk stretched across Billy’s face. “Well we can’t have that now can we, Luther.”

Mr. Campbell returned the smirk, looked at Billy over his glasses and asked. “Shall I add another bouquet to your weekly purchase, Billy?”

“Yes please, whatever she wants but do NOT tell her I’m the one that paid for them.” Billy said sternly.

“She is going to ask, so what am I supposed to tell her?” Said Mr. Campbell.

Billy rested his hand on the counter and pondered for a minute.

As he picked up his flowers and started to walk toward the door, Billy turned back to Mr. Campbell and said “Just tell her you are sworn to secrecy and she’ll find out…soon, I promise.”

**********

The following Friday after a long day at work, you clocked out and started your walk to the flower shop. The warm afternoon sun grazed the high points of your face as you strolled down the sidewalk just enjoying the crisp fall air, and in no rush to get where you were going.

This was your favorite time of year. Vendors in the street sold warm apple cider and kettle corn, people with their flushed cheeks hurried past you with their hands shoved into their jacket pockets, while a short gust of wind nearly took your hat right off of your head.

Your first stop was the liquor store. Mr. Campbell really enjoyed the nip of Jack Daniel’s you gave him every Friday, he always told you it was the best part of his week and you loved it too. It felt nice to have something steady in your life even if was just a sweet elderly man and a bouquet of self-bought flowers.

The wind caught the door on your way into the flower shop and you had a hard time holding on to it but you managed to close it before it flew off the hinges.

“A little windy out there, y/n?” He joked, barely looking up from the arrangement he was putting together.

You pressed your lips together and replied. “Just a little. I nearly lost my hat, Mr. Campbell!”

“So what sort of bouquet will make you feel good today, my dear.” He asked.

Looking around the shop, the sunflowers caught your eye. “Something with a few sunflowers, I think.” You said.

And off he went picking out autumn colors of burnt orange, bright yellow, and deep red with the sunflowers being the focal point in the middle next to fern like greens. It was a beautiful work of art just like every other week which always put a smile on your face.

As you opened your purse, Mr. Campbell stopped you, waving his hand at you to put your wallet away. “No…no, they’re already paid for y/n.”

You had a confused yet skeptical look on your face. “What do you mean they’re already paid for?” You said.

“Exactly what I said y/n, someone has already paid for your flowers.” He said, with a devilish grin stretched across his face.

“Well, who paid for them?” You asked.

“I am sworn to secrecy, my dear.” He said raising his hand and closing his eyes.

Reaching into your tote bag, you pulled out the nip of Jack Daniel’s. “Ya know I’m not sure you deserve this today but that wouldn’t be very nice of me, would it.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I’m sworn to secrecy but you will find out soon who paid for them, he promised.” He stated with a slight smile as you waved and left the store.

Who could it be?

For the next few weeks, every time you’ve gone to pay for your flowers they had already been paid for. You even treated yourself to long stem red roses one week, orchids the next and Mr. Campbell STILL insisted he had already been paid. It didn’t matter how expensive the flowers were, you didn’t have to pay a dime.

Every week, you would BEG Mr. Campbell to tell you who was paying for your bouquets but he didn’t fold. He didn’t give up the name of the man buying you whatever your little heart desired that week but he really loved watching you smile.

Finally on week number four, you walked in to pick out your flowers and after putting together your bouquet, Mr. Campbell had a little something extra to add…it was a note that said:

Someone as sweet as you shouldn’t have to buy their own flowers. I hope you’ve been enjoying them. Now look outside…

You looked up from the card toward the door and flashing his perfect smile at you was the handsome man that had held the door open for you a handful of weeks ago. Warmth rushed to your cheeks and suddenly there were butterflies in your stomach as he walked through the door and planted himself firmly in front of you.

“Billy Russo…it’s nice to finally meet you…” He said, extending his hand for you to shake.

You extended your hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Billy. I’m y/f/n y/l/n. So you’re the one that swore Mr. Campbell to secrecy?” You asked.

“Ah I knew Luther would be able to keep my secret, although he wanted me to tell you two weeks ago. He can be a little impatient.” Billy said with a warm smile and a slight whisper.

Looking over the tops of his glasses, Mr. Campbell said. “Well don’t talk about me like I’m not here. And do you have something for me, my dear y/n?”

You had completely forgotten about the nip of Jack Daniel’s in your bag that was meant for him so you reached in the bag and set it on the counter.

“Oh!! I am so sorry Mr. Campbell. Here ya go.” You said.

He took the little nip bottle and walked into the back room, behind the counter. He was gone for a few minutes.

“So what do ya say? Will you have a drink with me? I promise, it will be something better than Jack Daniel’s.” Billy said.

You chuckled a little when you heard Mr. Campbell shout from the back room. “I heard that, Billy!”

“I knew you would, sir!” Billy shouted back. “He has the best flowers in town plus he’s a veteran and I like supporting veteran owned businesses.” Billy said.

You couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. They looked like two endless pools of dark chocolate and they weren’t looking at anything except you.

Moving a stray hair away from your face, you replied. “I do too…I have friends and family that are veterans. Did you serve, Billy?”

“Three tours in Iraq…one in Afghanistan.” He said softly, inching closer to you.

Mr. Campbell surprised both of you when he appeared from the back. “Will you two get outta here! You can learn all about each other over a drink…GO! Get out!” He said, practically shooing you out of his shop and handing Billy his flowers.

“Alright, alright Mr. Campbell, we’re going…I’ll see you next week!” You said as you waved and walked out the door with Billy.

“Well? You wanna have that drink with me, y/n?” Billy asked again.

You bit down on your lower lip and glanced at the ground before capturing his gaze again. “I’d love to.” You said. “But I do have to drop these flowers off at home first so they don’t wilt. I live only a couple blocks from here. And it looks like you have flowers to drop off as well. Can I meet you in an hour? Is that enough time?”

Billy smiled. “That’s perfect…don’t you wanna know where I’m going to drop these off?” He asked nervously before opening the door to his car.

“As long as they’re not going to a wife or a girlfriend, it’s really none of my business Billy. But if you wanna tell me, you’re more than welcome to tell me later or another time. It’s up to you.” You said with a welcoming smile.

Billy looked surprised by your answer, he wasn’t expecting it and ultimately it was his decision of whether or not he wanted to tell you where he went every week at this time.

“Well ok then. So I’ll meet you back here in an hour?” He asked.

“I’ll see you in an hour…and Billy?

He looked up so his eyes were locked on yours.

A big smile stretched across your lips as you said “Thank you for my flowers.”

Billy smiled a wide Cheshire cat smile and winked at you. “You’re welcome, y/n and I will see you very soon.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[robinhobiii]

beautiful | oblivious! k. sy

summery : soonyoung just speaks his mind without putting a filter on. And so, his words were causing y/n to turn into a blushing mess.

No one really talked to y/n since she was so shy. She has one friend that was her neighbor, but she goes to a different school. And lot of the girls in her class were a bit stuck up. Always feeling the need to put other girls to make themselves feel high and mighty.

Y/n was also a victim of that. Since she dressed very modestly and didn’t wear revealing clothes, a lot of the girls would call her a nerd. It didn’t help that she wore glasses. She didn’t feel that ugly but after constantly hearing their words, it makes her uncomfortable to look at the mirror sometimes.

. . .

“Wow, did you see what y/n was wearing?! She’s wearing short sleeves. Tch, she wants the boys’ attention so bad.” One of the girls with the unmatched foundation said.

Y/n mentally rolled her eyes at that. She’s one to talk. If she wasn’t so shy and more out spoken, it would’ve been over for everyone in this class.

Soon it was lunch time and after people ate, they made their way back to class to pass time. Soonyoung was yawning for the nth time that day. He was so bored and just wanted to take a nap after class ended. He was aimlessly listening to the guys and girls talk about whatever, not really paying attention.

Then y/n walked in. The girls started to whisper a little before snickering. Y/n of course ignored them.

“Soonie, who do think is the most prettiest girl in this class?” One of the girls with an obnoxious shade of pink lipstick said.

“Huh?” Soonyoung’s as he was snapped away from his day dream.

He looked around as the girls eagerly waited for his response.

“I think . . “ he looked around again before his eyes landed on the back of y/n’s head. He felt that familiar feeling of butterflies in his stomach but he didn’t know what that meant. So, naturally, he just went with what his gut felt.

“I think y/n is the prettiest girl here.”

Silence.

Utter silence.

Y/n was a taken a back. Her face was red hot as she slowly turned her head to meet Soonyoung. His tiger like eyes already staring back at her.

One of the girls scoffed. “Huh?! Her??! She’s so ugly and really weird. How could you even think that?!” She said irritatedly.

“I don’t think she’s ugly. I think she has beautiful eyes and her hair is very pretty when it moves in the wind. Ooh and she has the sweetest smile.” He said nonchalantly.

The girls were glaring daggers at y/n and she quickly looks away. Before anything else could be said, the teacher walked in.

. . .

Once they were dismissed from the last class, she quickly made her way out. She didn’t want to deal with all those girls. She was able to make it out and walked to the park. It was still very sunny and all the elementary kids were also making their way to the park.

She said on the bench underneath the shade and basked in the warm spring air. It’ll be summer break soon, and she won’t have to see anyone again.

Two more months.

She finds herself muttering the time left in class to help her calm herself from those rude girls.

She took glasses off to gently rub the bridge of her nose. Y/n tilted her head up slightly and closed her eyes for a moment before open them up again. Her eyes took in the clouds and used her imagination for what the clouds could resembled.

“Wow, y/n, you really are beautiful.”

Y/n slightly jerked back in surprised and looked down to see who said that.

It was Soonyoung.

“W-what?” She said as she was trying to cover her face and move away.

Soonyoung only moved forward and grabbed her wrists softly pushing them away from her face.

“I always thought that you were beautiful with your glasses but I think your beautiful eyes glisten better without the glare of your glasses.” Soonyoung was in awe with how her beautiful was even more beautiful.

“Soonyoung-shi, you’re too close.” She whispered out as her face was beet red.

He didn’t reply either because he didn’t hear her or didn’t really care.

“It’s like your glasses were protecting your beauty because it’d be too much for anyone to handle. I can’t believe I got witness y/n’s true form.” His hand gently brushed away the baby hairs from her cheeks.

That was able to snap y/n out of the trance she was in. Her gentle hands push him away and she stood up and put her glasses back on.

He looked at her and said bluntly “go out with me.”

“W-what?”

“I said go out with me?”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit direct?”

“I was always told to not beat around the bush. So, I want you to go out with me”

Her already hot face heated up more.

“Soonyoung. . I’ll have to respectfully decline.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, making him resemble more of a hamster now. “W-why? Why is that? Please tell me.”

Y/n took a deep breath to calm her poor heart.

“It’s just that I don’t know you well enough to go out with you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. That’s totally valid.”

There was a moment of silence as she can practically hear Soonyoung thinking.

“Okay, how about this. . can we be friends first?”

She smiled softly before saying “only if you want to be.”

“Yes! Yea! Of course!” He said urgently as he nodded his head eagerly.

“Okay then, let’s be friends.” She said as she smiled at him.

He returned the smiled and replied “I’ll make you feel those same butterflies that you make me feel. Then you’ll be mine.”

“You’re really straightforward. I don’t know how I’ll deal with this.” She felt herself melting more and more by his direct responses.

He only smirked before walked up to her and standing right in front of her. He brushed her hair behind her ears and finally said.

“Get used to it because I’ll make sure that it’s known that you’re going to be mine.”

[blackangelism]

Born to Die

hey, so, basically, i was writing this fanfiction called born to die based upon kurt cobain and an original character called nirvana lacey anhedönia and, well, i never finished it and i think i’ve lost the inspiration to. but, i still want it to see the light of day because i think it’s beautiful (sort of). so, here we are.

Gibson Girl.

1480 words.

July 6, 1981.

Aberdeen.

Washington.

[ You wanna… ]

Lovelace.

That’s what I’m fucking carving into my arm. With that oh-so-American size of the knife, the cut was deep and my handwriting as unhinged as it could be, probably and possibly worse than the cruel (upon me!) variety of forms it takes; like it was in my journal (I’ve always adored the copulation of the words probably and possibly as it tends so well to my seeming lack of sincerity and existential confusion), but worse, worse. Tingling all over I was in not an aroused, sexual way—but in the way it tingles when the high becomes scary, when the swirly faces start to scratch at you and when your belly feels scarily pregnant (everyone whom I know wants children; I wonder, am I sociopathic or a prophetess? Probably both, they’re primarily synonymous anyway). I knew so damnéd well I was addicted to this shit, the little, translucent, hallucinatory blotters (I prefer ’em trippy on both the outside and in, and pink; but I’m an addict! I’ll take whatever anyways) I get by shaking my ass to the guy whose name I do not wish to have my married brain clouded with. He still cut into my head like the knife that was working with all it’s effort and my inputs carving that v on my plump, ripe forearm. I was addicted as fuck; and I fucking loved it. At the very fucking least, I was pumping out poems like a heroine of the fifties. It’s what it was: the fifties had Sylvia Plath and the eighties had me. Downright iconic. The blood by now—I felt like a lamb, but I knew I was the dragon—was flooding my lap on which that forearm of mine was settled. I apologise if my writing, grammer, thoughts, anything else is fucked up in this or don’t make sense—I’m drugged up into Cloud Nineteen (ten blotters, two packs of Marlboro Reds over this evening).

I know I sound fucking insane and I probably am, and I treat myself to pain Virgin Mary couldn’t have dreamt off—but, I promise I’m not mean. Just a hard, excessive exterior and a tight, eager posterior in this dollhood of mine. Does that even make sense…? I don’t fucking know shit… “Ah, fuck…” I whispered with the most disappointing one I could muster when I fucked up the second l of Lovelace.

Lovelace, Lovelace… Great, I have to recall him.

The fucker who got me into this.

Norwegian trucker in India who was friends with my greaser pa, Norman Anhedönia, called Gibson Lovelace. The chap had forty years worth of oxygen wasted in his shallow breathing (he always breathed shallow, even when he came; I had noticed), a nine-incher monster of a dick, pedophilia, a drunkard wife and an obsession with me. I’d always been what Nabokovian terms would term nymphet, and I do say I’m split on it. I’m a shit daughter and a demon child, or am I? Maybe I’m just depressed and suicidal, or I’m fucking divine and the reincarnation of Eve meant to meet her Adam through a senseless act of violence upon myself (I didn’t know at the time, but I was fucking foreshadowing; go me.). Every girl needs a senseless act of violence properly upon herself but rarely upon the other to discover her one and only cult leader.

Anywho, Gibson led me into his truck away from my father who was too busy cleaning his shades listening to Elvis on the records: January of ’77, I was seven going to turn eight in the November of that year. He fucked me raw, smashed my head so hard into the steering wheel that I bled (I was questioning too much), kissed my cuts and made me promise I wouldn’t pick up a knife again but didn’t do shit about what I actually felt; he told me to stick my tongue out and placed this thin translucent sheet of pink from a little booklet he kept in his glovebox. And I decided that I loved it. I’m at fault, I’m at fault… Fuck Waheguru.

I’m finished. I squeezed my arm as hard as I could, the blood spraying over the marble floor (I had tucked the rug away; I can’t let Mumma see). My incisors with the utmost force to keep my vocal chords at bay dug into my chapped bottom lip and drew blood there too. It trickled down to my chin and came to nirvana at my lap resting amongst the other red molecules; it left a ferric taste on the tip of my tongue, slightly bitter and quite sweet. Bittersweet. Blood, blood, blood, blood, blood… Blood, everywhere. Gibson would’ve rubbed it all over my nipples and told me to lick it up like it was his sperm all over my asscheeks or, well, just cheeks. I did have quite big tits for an almost twelve-year-old, I must admit… I’ve always had more estrogen and my estrogen was also more sensitive: susceptible. Susceptible to manipulation, fuckery, religion, what not… Finally, I could fucking feel something except for the stimuli of my g-spot and the irritation in my nostrils that still blossomed when I chainsmoked indoors or that itching feeling in me when I go too much time without my LSD. I have this delusion that I only pump men good or pump out good stuff when I’m pumped on those little squares: He said that LSD would be good for me when I told him that I write; I’ve been pumpin’ poetry for my baby ever since. I hate children, and I sincerely wish that all babies die alongside their parents and the doctors and the nurses and the medical’s parents and me…

My disorders kicked in (Borderline Personality Disorder, majorly untreated) and I fucking panicked. After so much shit, I fucking panicked. Panicked. Jumping up almost to slam my head to the sink I was cutting up like ham under, I had to hold onto the sink to make myself stand actually. I slowly experienced my hand creep up to switch on the faucet (like Gibby did to the faucet in my eyes everytime he crossed my neurocircuitry) and my other arm (I’m right-handed) creep to wash the blood from Lovelace off. Thankfully, I had a few bottles of peroxide, a pack of Reds, a babydoll dress all set up, razor and men’s shaving cream, my skincare, makeup—all of that set up, and the shower prepped as well. Today, I was to die.

The same year as Gibson’s arrival to me, I spiralled and ended up flinging my curvy body down the roof of some pretentious hotel in Seattle. I didn’t die, unfortunately. Then, well, I was transferred to a crazy people place for four years until I got out in March of ’81 (this year!) equally, if not more, fucked up. I had glowed so much surrounded by my little hellspawns, my creatures... My paradise is dying in the arms of nobody. But, I couldn’t care when the blotters kicked in and helped my cerebrum in distorting so fucking shittily my face into some eldritch horror that passed the likes of werewolves mid-transformation and golems. I giggled manically at the twistings of my eyes into the hair and my ears into halo, my mouth stretched through the giggle was transmuted to the petrified image of a dog and a lady and what fucking not. Oh, I need my pen… Pen, pen, pen, pen,... pen!

The lad

I tried to write into the journal page I had kept open on the small settee of my bathroom that I had also made sure to drip some of my essence onto (not like that, pervs; the blood, I’m saying) but my mouth wouldn’t co-operate with my cerebellum or my cerebrum. The giggles just wouldn’t stop and they just got more and more distorted like guitars fitted into amps and amps and shredding. I fell back on the ground, it cushioned by my ass, and held my head in my arms, shaking my head as if to curate outside of my all the fogginess and to shake out of my trip. I wanted to write, write! Not whatever the fuck this was. My eyes were squeezed so hard, I was crying. And, I couldn’t fucking stop laughing like a shitshow.

“Oh, God, stop, stop, stop, just fucking stop…!” Hadn’t even realised I was sobbing but in that moment that epiphany hit me like a freight train (whatever the fuck a freight train is; I just picked up on the writing tool from whatever I read using this). My arm was still bleeding, smearing blood over my cheeks; my lip was still cut from my teeth, bleeding the smaller bits too; I was shaking like a fucking banyan leaf in the rainstorms of Wash.

• • •

Strangers.

5010 words.

July 6, 1981.

Aberdeen.

Washington.

[ Don’t talk to strangers, or you might fall in love ]

Even the isolation, deprave, and mesophilia of our fucked-up, Lacey, crazies hospital was better than this drenched, little town. What was better than any of those two fucking disasters, though, was my stance on the railway tracks. Sittin’ there like teke-teke, waitin’ for my gorgeous guts to be smashed over, destroyed, violated, clawed out by the grinders of the train. I’d never seen starry nights—the ladies at Lacey would never have enough testicles to let me watch a shooting star and hope that it crash into me, the fuckin’ meteorite. My years at Cawnpore already were quite less in number, and it eternally was too polluted for us to see something more than the dhruv star and a few other killers; I’d never seen starry nights. According to this astronomical magazine I picked up while the nurses took us out to the local stores of Lacey for us teenage girls to detoxify our battlefields for minds, today was a meteor shower and I was thoroughly intrigued by blazing space rocks in the skies, so I bluffed and fucked my way out of the hospital. My egg and sperm donors did not believe for a major nanosecond that I was cured. At two years of pained age, I was standing in the middle of the gray-like-me roads, conscious of the act; at four, I burnt my pierced earlobe on purpose, using the steam-fuelled iron to; at six, any blade I pranced upon would find it’s metallic way to scent the room in the aroma of my equally metally blood, I only wished for one to kiss those marks and draw about them, to be what the lyre was to Apollo; at eight, this curvy brain of mine finally snapped into her hemispheres and told me to fling my curvy body down the highest story of our hotel. At eight, my suppliers abandoned their Catholic mistake of a dolly into a mental hospital in my Americana birthplace, Lacey.

There, I morphed myself like the blesséd Phoenix, curse, profanity I am into The Mother. Mother Lace, Mother Nirvana, Messiah of thee, and the literary combo of Three. One of the only times I shall ever cherish are my years with those six girls… My girls: my loves, only ones who would ever succeed in enveloping me with so much heat that the outward exterior, the exoskeleton of middle fingers and catty hisses, melts into a puddle of rot beneath me and the inner delicacy of my wretched fragility and mortality is on display for all those mental fuckers to eat.

Needless to say…, I missed my bundle of little women, my packets of compressed, oppressed joy. So, I lay there longing with my arms stretched onward craving hiraeth in the Heavens—now that I look back, it never was hiraeth. I knew exactly what my home was: the browned mental hospital where I spent four formative years of my Jim Morrison's life in. I longed for the hug of my collected daughters, their soft digits brushing my hair as they softly inquired escape from the hellhole I promised to save them from. My girls... I loved them, like the mother they never received. I had promised, I had promised… I was a betrayer. What mother to those girls…

On instinct I experienced my hands reach to the crown of my head, relief coursing through my blood the moment a thorn stung me. Their entity had crafted for me a crown of thorns to relish me as their Lady and Saviour. I did feel blood seep from the pinch, but I stuck my finger between my lips and thrashed my tongue around, gazing at the dying glows of the starry night.

I pretended to be Jesus.

I am Judas, or am I?

I don’t even know what I’m writing. You’re hallucinating while interpreting strange symbols written left-to-right in lead and antimony compounds upon thin, delicate tablet-like structures made of tree sap, so I guess we two are never too far apart in our crazy.

Well, to them (my girls: Laine Jean Ray, Bonita Ana Dios, Aurora May-Belle Long, Theresa Midge Check, Verbena de Baïa Voisin, Margaret Sarah Check), I still remain Yeshua. Yet, I feel a wolf in lamb’s skin as myself; a panther in the throes of the night sky that I stare emptily, tearily, upon. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake (translation: you people are fucking dumb).

In my convulsing tubule of thoughts birthed by my cerebral quality, I failed in my life to notice movement, possibly a metre from me. I was laid over the railway track like a corpse, eyes empty yet body warm for no reason at all. It truly seems bizarre how the movement noticed me neither—maybe dissolved so much in the grief were they that they were as heady as me, as crazy as I! Trapped inside the fever dream of their own thoughts, vowed to never spit it out, bit tongues and summertimes spent in clawing bedsheets and clamping hands over the own lips so as to refrain from the awareness that might spread. That might say…: I am iron. I am usable, extremely so. Exploit me, as if you have not already. Though, I might have not warneth thou… I rot as vigorously as I am used, keep me out in the world and I will break down and become ash of myself. In the velvet night, a puff of air as a sigh crawled out of me, liquid dripping down the corneas of I, ruining not the night (this was to be, I planned to die today for fuck’s sake) but my precious mascara and eyeliner. Oh, how I worked on that lining to accentuate my inherited, unwanted, auto-appreciated felinity. I’d be the prettiest girl in the morgue.

Someday you will ache like I ache.

Anyhow, the shower from the atmosphere had concluded a few minutes prior. And, well, finally, the train I was waiting for to scramble and crumble my guts into nothing but wasted potential, like I already was, had arrived… Only, it arrived wrong. It ran over the steel beside me, beside us (counting in the movement I am). A severe monsoon bummer filled my chest, the void in my heart had been concealed tightly and packed with Lyssa, Eris, what not. I craved to screech at the tyrant Father for his sin, for his fucking disruptive mercy on me—I did not want mercy! I needed death to fuck me like his personal, unpaid, loyal servant-girl; I needed it violent! So, as soon as all registered in my voluminous cerebrum, I recoiled in my pose, resorting to the protection of a foetal position as I screamed out my sobs and muffled them by staining my shaved thighs with my lipstick and drool smelling of minty chew-gum that I chewed last minute, tears of brown-black from my mascara and liner, hitting my head against my knees and punching the bloody rails that I was once moonbathing over until I experienced my knuckles burn and bruise, actual slivers of blood peek through the skin. I continued then too, but was too passionate in my quiet wailing to keep up the aggression.

And, thence, I swiped my tears with my bleeding knuckles, unrealising in my little girl’s misery of the fact, and smeared blood over my eyes and mascara over my blood. By some distance, I could hear some twigs crunching, maybe it was the movement I hadn’t noticed beforehand. When I did notice in that current moment, fear struck my gut like Cupid’s arrow when I had seen Priscilla Presley for the first time in forever. Naturally, a response occurred within the fatty mass of electric muscle in my head and I recoiled within myself, burying my face in my knees that I had pulled to my tits, only my eyes blinking up like a defensing cat—if I had been a cat, my pupils would have shrunken to that reptilian, creepy glare. I saw that the thing was lighting a cigarette, my cravings relit alongside (the appearance of the thing was half-revealed in the dim spark).

Stupidly as I ever could be, I murmured from my coil, “Do you have a light?” However softly I did speak, the boy did hear because it was the death of the night in wherever we were, the railroad was as quiet as could be with the crickets around chirping and inaudible bats may or may not be sauntering about. Dim moonlight that I somedays worshipped (as a witch, I did) proved herself, and I saw him. The first predicament was that he’s cute: blond, ice eyes, hopeless swagger, shaky legs. He paused himself in his trek, and slowly but mildly clumsily, turned to see my form. Perhaps cold moonlight proved her importance to hallucinatory pages of dead sap’s inkéd words of feel-good love. Wow, fuck, I went overboard on there. So, he scrutinised me for a moment, squinting to gaze at me carefully.

I’ll never forget what came out of my future husband’s mouth the first time he spoke a single thing to me…: You look very pretty when you’re crying; tears suit you. I don’t think that I can emphasise the moan that was nearly to escape me at that very moment, it was a shockwave of whatever down my spine to my ladyness. My knees dropped to become flat, just legs, and I did acknowledge the gashes in my doll heart bleeding so vigorously, it matched my swallowed drool.

“You don’t mean that, you’re drunk.”

His honeyed voice, sort of scratchy as I observed he was pubescent and hormonal in his blue jeans, white striped shirt—walked into the room, you know you made my eyes burn!—and black-y jacket he kept open, pushed me to experience the yayo-type, giggly joy of his chuckle, he shook his head in amuséd denial of his drunkenness. He was poetic, he had a slur, he had his thin lips wrapped around a cigarette—shit, I needed them wrapped around mine… And, I loved it. Why the fuck was I enamoured? “You’re a hypocrite,” He paused for a moment, maintaining that smile. Two distinct holes, punctures in muscle, were noticed by thee truly, myself, at that very moment; I felt my ribcaged heart palpitate. “You’re bawling your eyes out here like Virgin Mary.”

“Oh, fuck me, that’s beautiful.” The moan that was slowly and gradually, steadily and irresistibly, mountaineering up my throat finally escaped in the form of this: *Oh, fuck me, that’s beautiful*. Which, I did mean—how could I not mean *this*? I’m not Lisa Rowe, you buzz (although I wish to be—have you not read the sheer charisma produced from the description Kaysen emits of her? She was definitely the prettiest girl in the morgue!).

Hands of his extended to mine, both, and I took them, shakingly wobbling from my psych-out. I felt drunk. As terror-inducin’ it seems, drugs had exhilarated me, no cock of a man who had money this nymphet had onlooked had been left out, I was such a La Lolita for my crazy desires—but I had never had a swig before. Smelling the booze off my falling, twisted guy as he pulled me up from my literal and mental death—I only knew that my heart was hitting at my sinews, she felt a depraved wanderlust. Some wanderlust it was to, like a man in a Prime Minister pose, mark that free, angel Earth mine with maybe a flag (a tattoo) or a hole (a lovebite), something, somewhat. I held onto his shoulders for both metaphorical and literal support, he held onto the curve of the lower back I possessed, though the fabric of his jackie didn’t benefit friction and he kept slipping his arm off accidentally because, one, he adorned too much weight on; two, the fabircs intermingled like our forms, the cheap satin and whatever the fuck his jacket was made of. “Why am I a hypocrite, though?” I finally asked this little blond dude what had been pestering me (I am not to blame for this worthy-of-disdain obsessiveness, I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I am Cool Girl: I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive) for how millennium long. His ocean eyes matched mine for a moment, and he seemed to think through for a momento before he permitted the giggle of a hyena break out of him: Because you’re pretty when you cry, and I’m not.

“Yes, you are.” No hesitation was laced through me, none of that unaware uncertainty that I usually experienced leaking through my tune when I comforted one of my girls—my girls...—and instead was there an ignorant stubbornness. I was always stubborn, but what the fuck? I, having registered in my still plush cerebrum that my crown of thorns (gifted to me by Laine specifically, although all the girls worked on it) had fallen like my Lucifer when I had risen, thence I bent to grab my status, injuring my already injured hand thus further as the thorns pierced and pricked into my skin. And, I didn’t even cry…

He recoiled almost physically at my olden compliment (remember the first dialogue of the previous paragraphed rambling?) and I was due a breakdown of my psyche in that very singular fraction of a minute when my man suddenly perked up, “I only have this cig,”, changing the subject. Yahweh, my knuckles burnt. I ohed a tiny bit, and chuckled, extending one of my quivering, weak limbs and bending to wrap my lipstickéd lips on the ass of that cigarette, same one he took a drag from not fifteen seconds ago. His Atlantic eyes widened for a twiddling momentous, and, possibly and probably in drunken stupor and marijuana heights of his death wish, he giggled—I physically felt my pupils dilate, what the fuck? Maybe it was the nicotine, maybe it was the aftershocks of my tiny-teeny mental breakdown on the rail, maybe it was hisself… Damn, I think I understood Grant so well in that miniscule moment: Heaven is a place on Earth with you.

The world was built for two.

Delusional, I was convinced that it was us two the moment he grabbed the cigarette from me for his chance, and he examined the matte, messy mark of my lip stamped on it.

With the dumbest smile he could muster in my damnéd opinion, this little, blond, territorial, underdeveloped man adjusted his lips on the exact place I had left my shine, suckling it like it was some part of me. He knew what he was doing, I could pluck it from the glitter in his pretty orbs that told me shit he’d never be able to spit out in our tragic, magic relationship of some thirteen years. We kissed in death like we kissed in that moment, he blew smoke into my mouth and I giggled, almost extracting the alcohol of his from the roof of his mouth as my tongue felt her way around. We parted for perhaps, well, a second (I don’t remember the details, I’m writing this after our wedding sex, 1988. We’re in our flight back to Olympia from Honolulu, and he’s sleeping on my tits), and rejoint as I adjusted the angle to kiss-fuck this virginal Cherub better. “Darling, is this your first?”, he nodded, responsive—to be frank, that was adorable...! I’m pretty sure I squeaked out of sheer kiddy excitement, squeezing the sides of his face (cheeks). My grip migrated to around his neck, form bent for he was teenier than I. I didn’t even know his name and we were kissing in the blue dark…

Parting, I only gazed into his oceanic gaze and breathlessly giggled, “Oh, wow, fuck,... That was…, yeah.” A grand total of seven partners (three females, four males) I had engaged in before this merman, and I had never felt myself stolen of breathe ever in my existence after a mere kiss. Possibly was it the intoxication, the nicotine fucking over my senses so that my taste buds tickled with the enriching experience of his glazed cavern, but was it not thrilling, oh Mary! I had enchanted outward the sweetest giggle, and he in his still stupor snuggled his head inside the curve of my shoulder and chest; he was only that much tall. I was not lanky in any aspect, neither I am still—on the flipside, truth is that my mother repeatedly insisted upon me to not drown in my head and force her to onlook, rather to go outside, soak some tan (I am racially brown, thence I don’t require a tan) and run some. I decline profusely, tangling in blankets again and writing what, if discovered, would have positively filed me into the South Sound Behavioral Hospital yet again for a term not of four years now but of God-knows-how-long.

Eventually, I figured: some other day, this nymph may or may not have only prolonged my life now, and I told myself it. By the railway roads were grasses uncared for (like most daughters were; the human was their mother and the stain’d, tall grasses were the lost), we decided unconsciously to sit by those and talk the dimlight of the night off the clouds, to dawn we conversed. As unbelievable as it may sound considering the turbulence not even Athena might have dreamt of that had plagued the twisty courses of my lifetime, I had not sipped upon the liver eater yet: alcohol! With my newfound darling, that was precisely what I did.

We were dwelling inside uncanny synchronisation with our acts: we looked around at the same time, fixated on the same piece of cement, reached to gasp one another’s hands the same moment. I didn’t flinch, neither did the blond darling. Which..., was quite, well, it was especially choking as I... Usually froze at contact of the physique from someone whom I loved. Around this time, with my drink-induced lover, it felt good.

We curled up by grass, against a gray boulder-like structure, perhaps a part of a rotten or demolished building of some sort, debris. There, I suckled upon the lengthy cancerstick and inquired like an owl: “Why were you here, anyway?” In a casual tone I did, as if it was something so normal that I was nonchalant. “Oh, y’know, to kill myself.” The answer delivered by this sweetness would dwelling in me a day or so afterward (take that very literally) was just as nonchalant, confirming the suspicion conjured by my despaired subconscious that he was just as heady as me, as crazy as me, someone who would rot along me like iron all the while fearing the rot, hiding from something murmuring within thyself and teetering about; aura as a nymphic call and melancholia as the default ring of the mood. GOD is a teenaged girl of grunge and glitter, and I am a doll (soulless, empty, pretty with no matter on the inside yet pretty from the back—it matched!).

“No, no, like, why?” I repeated with an accentuated tone and my regular gestures of hand and eye, “The reason you wanted to kill yourself. I don’t judge, promise.” I shrugged, chuckling a bit as I passed the miniature cancer to him for a drag. “Clearly.” He chuckled too, widening his eyes momentarily to allude to my appearance; as I remember it, that elicited out from me a little giggle. I mean, it was the factual; darling, not lying. A girl; a girl dressed in a pearly babydoll dress with lacy tights (opaque white-like, frilled, a bow on top of each, knee-high) and no footwear with mascara smeared down her face from a clear breakdown of her battlefield for mind, manic brown eyes with a grape-coloured lipstick on pouty heart-shaped lips, blood and dirt also staining her optic area due to her bleeding knuckles from which she punched the steel of the rails because the train did not run over her? Paired alongside the fresh wounds on display littered across that fatty arm of hers? Oh, she was a crazy chick—and I could tell that this little guy loved it. He loved my mania, he loved my blood, he loved my crazy, he loved everything that I loved about myself. Maybe it was his alcohol that urged him this way, but I loved him for he loved what he saw.

But is she pretty on the inside?

“Well,” I spaced back in with the thrill of his voice curling the air around us; I wish we were plunged into steel. Sound travels best in something like steel… What would his voice be in steel? The thought messaged down my spine a shiver. “’s mostly everything about my life. Wouldn’t say I’m addicted, but all I do these days is mope and get high, or drink. I’ve been this since last month. Last year, I saw this… This dead boy who hung himself in the woods. That really affected me, I think; I’ve got suicide genes.” He paused a bit, sighing as he was passed the smokestick again. I puckered up a bit and drew closer to his pretty face, rounding my lips out and pushing out a ring of cigarette smoke. On impulse, he stuck nose through the centre of the dissipating smoke ring which drew from me another giggle—he was just like me! I did that too! I’d never thought someone else would…? What the fuck is going on?

Taking a drag, he then resuméd: “My parents are divorced… I’m really embarrassed of that.” He added a bit hesitantly, I could gauge that he still felt the shame of it all; which perplexed me. A divorce is shameful? How so? It’s a fucking life decision… But, that’s okay because this little one was clearly less mature and emotionally developed than I, although that amount still was remarkable considering his physique and my presumé of his age (which I thought to be elder to me, but still not too much so). “Why?”

“I want my real family back. My dad promised me he wouldn’t remarry, and he fucking did; to a bitch nonetheless. I hate her and her children are so… Phoney…!” Humming at his hurt words, I was analysing him: eyes gliding over the pasty, smooth contours of his vanilla face; staring into the trench of his pupils surrounded by his ocean eyes as he passed back the almost dead cigarette to me. The guard he wore over his exterior again was forming as he read that I was reading him without contempt (he thought I was feeling that, but I was simply analysing him emotionlessly—as if he was a labrat and I was dissecting him to figure out the following: what the fuck is this little shit?). But, I got him before he leaned away or apologised: Don’t worry, go on. Say it. I hate my cousins too. He relaxed yet again, I could see his shoulders come down and he leaned into me again,. Our heads were almost leaning against each other’s, breathes intermixing with each intake and out. “Go on.” I repeated, tapping his knee to accentuate my point.

He snapped out of whatever daze (he was reading me too, perhaps; mentally dissecting my Barbie body too, perhaps) and his hand came to clasp mine. I bit back a giggle and a smile at the contact, he did notice the corner of my lips tilt upward so he took that as a positive for further lacing of his fingers with mine. I, now a bit assured in myself, squeezed his hand and nudged him again: go on.

“Right,” He chuckled, “So, well, I just feel… Alien. You know, when I was little, I used to look at the stars,” He pointed briefly to the stars that were shining above the both of us, “And imagine my real family because I just felt like I wasn’t from here, like I was from another planet. I think I like that feeling, I was homesick for a place that didn’t even exist. And, to be honest, you’re the only other alien I’ve met.” That made me giggle after I muttered hiraeth at the sentence spoken second to the last. I found in my nicotined mindscape that this… Theory, was almost verbatim of a theory I myself had gardened in my meadow for mind. “Y’know…! I felt like that too, still do actually. I just used different terms for it. I called whatever the fuck our species are Earth Angels, angels on Earth. I read somewhere once that a person with scars of cuts on their arms was called an angel by a kid, and I think I really internalised… That.”

He chuckled, “Your mind is divine, Pretty. Yeah, I think my family is also a reason in why… I want to kill myself, y’know?”

“Oh, absolutely. I love them so much so I do what they want and they hate me for every speck of originality; I don’t know if it’s my mental disorders or it’s my hormones, but every small inconvenience makes me wanna kill myself. I’m also a hater! I hate everything and I do nothing to change it which, admittedly, makes me an arsehole—but, fuck it.” We both had laughter crawling up our throats and I could tell it wasn’t actual laughter. Oh, no. It was mania, laughing not because it threatened to spill; laughing because you had nothing else to do. Like crazy people (I do think that I am insane, in some way, shape or form. But, I also think that I’m supersane. Who fucking knows? I think a lot, don’t I?).

The cigarette had gone out by now, I think I had stubbed it out by pressing to the moist ground after he had truly started opening the shells of himself, not wishing to be distracted by drugs when I had the most addictive and healthy sedative offering his lifestory to a little shit like me. “Well, what’s it for you? I haven’t ever seen… You around…” He slurred out as we jumped down from our maniacal, little, episodic bursts of sacrilege or insanity… Well, are they not synonyms?

“Ah, so, I just moved here about a… Maybe a few days ago? I think a week or so. I moved from Lacey, though I’m actually Indian. Well… It’s a fucked-up fairytale, really. My whole ancestry and family is the following: sexist, racist, extremist to Sikhism, religious, doomed, homophobic, transphobic, Islamophobic, very, very Indian. It’s only my grandmother who acknowledges the sexism floating between our family; she dreamt high and was ambition incarnate but her marriage to this horrible fucking man led her to be so oppressed she couldn't speak a word of English without being thoroughly taunted for it.” His face clearly contorted into a gnarly grimace, and I felt my nose start to itch and burn again remembering all this up… Never had I ever trauma-puked this well or been so comfortable vomiting it out to someone I did not know.

“’s just… Fuckin’ Hell. I can’t translate it into words, I can only feel.” Shaking my head in a paternal sort of disappointment (no matter how much I despise the fact, I am my father’s daughter; his copy of carbon) at my inability, I felt myself pulled in again… How? How was he doing this shit? Being so fucking kind? It made me anxious, admittedly. Why was he so kind? What did the fucker want?

I’m being too cynical. I wanted to cry; instead I accepted his tentative comfort and shoved my face into the nook of his neck, breathing down it like a vampire in the night. I had the purely feminine, feline urge to wrap myself around him like Sarin and never let go to slowly dissolve into him even if maggots eat us out. Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why…? For a few minutes I think, we stayed in that exact position, in a sort of silence that neutered my turmoil. His arms were gel onto my wounds, and I, terrified, readily crept in like the Dutch beetle on the elm.

“Don’t.” I eventually muttered out into the tender, pale, untouched flesh of temptation on his neck; I don’t know why I did it, don’t decipher or discover the root at all. What is a girl to do when offered love on a silver spoon when she only possesses a forked tongue of venom caused from licking slivers of love off a parental knife? I was a black, not racially but spiritually. I was corrupt, disgust, free-use trash for swollen cocks with zero semblance of any soul and only a pretty body. It’s my pretty power which is my ugly. I am disgusting… I sometimes feel the scorching need to cleanse myself, to face redemption, to hurry to salvation; and other days I revel in the hellfire of lust that would surround me once I am liberated of this uséd body.

[littledrummeraussie]

tell me all the things that you couldn't before.

masterlist. | want to be added to my taglist?

warnings: brief mentions of sex. a nightmare. hurt/comfort. lots of loving for Ashton. badboy!mechanic!Ashton AU.

word count: 5435

author’s note: This fic was written back in January, 2020, as part of the infamous A Permanent Chase fic, which I'm not sure will ever see the light of day as it only lives in my head and my heart.

The original concept is the following (to help you understand the fic better):

Ashton (in the beginning appearing as Fletcher) comes back to Sydney, where he starts working at Calum's garage as a mechanic. Shortly after this he meets our girl and starts to pursue her. They do start dating, but after some complications happen, and she finds out Fletcher is not the person he tells people he is, but someone else (Ashton), and she quickly breaks things up between them.

What she doesn't realize is that she and Ashton have met before, just after graduation at a beach party, where they fell in love for a night, but never saw each other again. Ashton does recognize the girl, but she doesn't recognize him for a long time, until finally Ashton does tell her the truth about their past.

The story is a mess - the original idea included gangs and street racing in which Ashton also partakes, lots of chasing after the girl in different places and scenarios, who eventually starts to put together how Ashton really loves her and actually wants to protect her from things happening around the city. (This is a huge reason why I never really worked on the story - I couldn't decide on anything, so it's just a big mess.)

They eventually make up and finally kiss at another beach party (full circle), and decide that they want to start a relationship with each other. There are lot of added stories to them in my mind, all of them following the main story above.

I also realized over the years that in some ways they are kinda toxic, but I cannot help it, I love my babies so much. So if you have any additional questions, please feel free to ask them.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

-----

It was well past midnight when you realized that there was something out of the ordinary. At first everything seemed to be normal, your night started like any other: you stopped by the garage after work, parking your car just outside the building and greeted the boys who were still working there. You’ve convinced Ashton to finish early, making Calum close up for the night, and dragged your boyfriend up the stairs to his flat.

He was in a really good mood, and with a cheeky grin he pulled you into the shower with himself. His hands were searching and grabbing at whatever body parts they could reach, and after he’d promised you the best fuck of your life, Ashton picked you up to cross the tiny apartment to his bedroom, where he made good on his promise. You were lying in a tangled mass afterwards, watching the last rays of sunshine peeking through the window, painting Sydney in the most beautiful shades of pink, orange and yellow.

You were ready to make some dinner, but Ashton preferred cuddle time, and held you close to his side while he ordered Thai food from one of his favourite places. You spent the time kissing and talking about your day until the guy arrived with your order, and you ate in comfortable silence in the kitchen, playing footsie all through dinner. Usually this was the time when you went out to have fun around town, or just lay on the couch, watching the TV mindlessly, but the last few weeks have been different.

Since you’ve decided to take up some courses to help you with your work, it meant that eventually you needed to take exams on them as well. You had your doubts when you first approached Ash with the idea, but he was supportive, and in his own way, he helped you with your studying and papers. It usually meant buying you coffee or letting you rant about your problems – or ordering food when he thought you could use the extra time. And his apartment was much quieter than your noisy neighbourhood. He did not mind you staying over if it meant cuddles, food sharing and sex – all three of those happened regularly, so he did not complain.

You have already started revising notes when Ashton came up to you and gave a kiss on your neck. You leaned back against his chest, looking up at him with a smile.

“You’re going to bed?”

“Yeah, I promised Calum that I will open in the morning, since someone decided to drag me away early,” he leaned forward to press another kiss on your forehead, his red locks falling over your face. “And I don’t want to keep you away from your notes and books, which are clearly more interesting than your own boyfriend.”

“How tragic,” you laughed, turning around on the kitchen chair to wrap your arms around him. “Please file a complaint, and I will talk to the management.”

“And what will I get as a consolation prize?” he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Blowjobs.”

“Oh, plural? That doesn’t sound so bad,” Ashton grinned at you, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “When can I start collecting them?”

“You know how offices work – it might take a few weeks to get an answer,” you bit your lip to hide a smile, and Ash just huffed at you.

“If it was up to you, I wouldn’t get my blowjobs for the next 30 days or so,” his fingers found a way into your tied up hair, slowly pulling out strands and combing them back into an even messier bun. “Any way to file a complaint about filing complaints?”

“I might know someone who can help you,” you tilted your head forward, pressing a small kiss on the skin of his stomach, then quickly blew a raspberry on it. “But only during opening hours.”

“You are terrible,” he laughed, grabbing your face and pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your lips. “Alright, I’ll leave you to your notes.”

“Don’t hog the blankets,” you poked his side, and Ash laughed again, pushing your hand away. “Good night, Cardinal.”

“Is that a joke on my hair?”

“You tell me,” you winked at him, and he leaned back to give you another kiss.

“Good night, you monster.”

* * *

You knew something was up when you heard noises from the bedroom. The flat was really small, with no actual doors between the bedroom, the living area and the kitchen, and at first you thought the all-nighters you pulled would bother Ashton and he wouldn’t be able to sleep with the light on in the kitchen. But he was a heavy sleeper, still and calm, and the only thing that ever broke the silence was his light snoring. But not tonight.

The first thing you heard were the rustling sheets, a pillow thumping down onto the floor, the bed creaking under his weight. There was a loud gasp, more rustling, something hitting the nightstand or the bed frame, then another loud thump on the mattress. More gasps, more heavy breathing – you could hear the panic in the way he was trying to catch his breath, choking on air, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs.

You pushed yourself out of the chair, running to the small bedroom to check on Ashton. He was tangled up in the sheets, body twisting around as he tried to kick off the covers, thrashing in his blanket prison. His arms were swinging, trying to grab onto something (or someone), hitting the pillows and the bed with every move. He pushed his head back into the pillow, turning it left and right as he was panting, his Adam’s apple moving almost in a frantic, panicked way.

He was no stranger to nightmares – when he was exhausted or just had a bad day, he would go to bed early, resting his head on your stomach, hugging your body close to him like a pillow, and that usually did the trick. He slept soundly and without interruption. But sometimes he was just so lost in his own head that he forgot about it all, not caring about the dreams sneaking into his sleepy mind, and he usually woke with a start in the middle of the night. He would curl his body around yours, telling you that he’s okay, he just had a bad dream, he will fall back to sleep soon – he only ever asked you to hold his hand during these moments.

But tonight was different, Ashton never had a nightmare like this, one that physically shook him. He was fighting so hard to wake up, but nothing seemed to work. You dropped onto the mattress, climbing closer, and grabbed him by his shoulders, shaking him with all the strength that you had.

“Ashton! Ashton, wake up! Ash! Wake up!”

Suddenly he bolted up, eyes wide open, staring at the wall and taking in a lungful of air, making himself dizzy in the process. You shifted closer, climbing between his legs, and wrapped your arms around his trembling body. You held him close, running your fingers over his back, murmuring soft words into his ear as he buried his face in your neck, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his hammering heart.

“I’m here, Ash, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He locked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, never loosening his grip on you. You ran your hand up to his shoulder, lightly massaging his tense muscles, caressing his neck, brushing your fingers over his hair. His skin was cold and sweaty, his hair wet and sticking to his forehead. His breathing was slowing, and you moved your head to press a small kiss on his temple. He tensed for a second, but then melted into your arms once again.

“It’s alright,” you whispered, still stroking the red locks at the back of his head. “It’s over. It was just a dream, it’s over. I’m here. You’re awake. It’s okay.”

His breath was hot on your neck as he inhaled deeply, nuzzling his face back into your skin. His muscles were slowly relaxing, but he was still tense and sweaty, and a shiver ran through his body. He tried to burrow closer to get more of your warmth, and you let him stay in your arms like this for a few more minutes. When you could feel he was a bit more relaxed, you pulled back a little, lifting his head up to look at you. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and it took him a few seconds to get out of his daze.

Ashton’s gaze skipped over yours, instead focusing on the chain hanging from your neck. The silver ring he gave you almost a year ago was hooked on a thin necklace, the weight of the metal resting between your breasts, a comfort you never knew you needed. You still remembered the time when he wore it on his finger, playing with it whenever he started getting nervous. He called it a good luck charm, something he desperately needed while he was chasing after you. But once he got hold of your heart, he gave it to you – since then it became something much more than just a piece of jewellery. For you: a reminder; for others: a warning.

His clumsy fingers wrapped around the ring, slightly tugging on it. You slowly tilted his head up again, trying to catch his eyes. His hazel ones finally found your gaze, and you gave him a small smile, lightly running your fingers over his stubbly jaw.

“Hey, you’re okay?”

Silence, then a nod.

“How about you go and take a shower? Get warmed up,” you rubbed his arms, trying to warm his still cold skin. “And I will change the sheets.”

Another nod.

Ash let go of your necklace, slowly peeling himself out of the bed, starting to go to the bathroom, then stopped, looked back at you. You gave him another encouraging smile, nodded at him that it’s okay, you both will be fine, after which he finally made his way out of the room. When the lock clicked and the shower started up, you let out a breath you were holding back. A thousand questions were running through your mind, but you didn’t want to take too much time thinking about them. You wanted to make sure Ashton was comfortable after his nightmare, that he can come back and relax into the bed, wrapped in your arms, and sleep off this horrible experience.

You started stripping off the sweat soaked sheets, pulling out a fresh set from the drawer, working methodically in changing them. After that you opened the window, letting in fresh air, the slight breeze clearing away the remaining shadows from the room. You reached into another drawer, choosing a soft pair of sweatpants for Ashton, and finally went to the kitchen, making tea, waiting for him to finish up.

The lock on the bathroom door clicked, and it opened with a slight squeak. Ash stood behind the door, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping on the tiles from his red hair. You stepped to him, holding the pants out for him. He took them from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours as he did, and that made him look at you.

“I made you tea,” you nodded towards the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. “If you want some.”

“Thanks,” his voice was quiet and small, and he coughed a little to make his throat work. “I– I’ll be there.”

“Take your time.”

You stepped back to the kitchen, piling up your books and notes to shove them to the corner of the table. You knew there was no way you would go back to studying, not tonight. Any exam could wait – Ashton needed you now.

After a few more minutes he emerged from the bathroom, shuffling to the kitchen, and dropped down onto the chair next to you. He sighed deeply, then leaned forward, resting both his arms on the table, and put his head down on them, hiding his face. You watched him, how his back moved as he was breathing in and out. His muscles were still tense, you could see it from the way he was holding himself. You scooted a bit closer, and slowly put your hand on his elbow, a tentative touch. When he did not flinch away, you started to lightly rub his arm, up to his shoulder, down on his back, then back up again.

When you reached the back of his neck, Ash moved his head to the side, looking at you as you stroked his drying locks with your fingers. His hazel eyes were searching you as you were working through the tangled ends, brushing them back from his face. He let out another small sigh when you touched his face, caressing his cheek, which made him nuzzle into your hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, resting your hand back on his arm.

Ashton looked at you for another second, then hid his face back in the crook of his elbow. You waited for him, you knew he needed time to work through the thoughts in his head, to decide if he wanted to face them again. He slowly pushed himself up, reaching for the mug in front of him, taking a sip of his cooling tea. His fingers were running over the rim, circling it mindlessly as he focused on something in front of him.

“You… left me.”

There was silence in the kitchen – his words left you speechless. It sounded silly at first; you knew how you felt about him, how first his attention was unusual, almost uncomfortable at times, and that you wished he would give you just an ounce of space; how you started to miss him when he wasn’t around, how you watched over your shoulder if he would appear somehow, stalk behind you, keeping his distance, but never taking his eyes off of you. You knew he had his reasons to do so, and you learned to love him for that – it wasn’t so hard, he found a way to your heart, and you willingly let him in. You never wanted to let go of him ever again.

“I have no intention in doing that,” you reached out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it. “And no reason.”

“But what if you do?” he whispered, pulling his hand away. “What if you find one?”

“Ash… is this something you’ve been… thinking about lately?” you asked softly, your fingers going up to your necklace, running them over the ring.

He did not answer; his eyes were still trained on the same spot as before. He was drumming on the tabletop, the rhythm getting more and more frantic and complicated. You desperately wanted to reach out and stop him, to make him look at you, to let him know you were there, you were listening, that you wanted to understand. But it seemed he was lost in his own thoughts – thoughts that brought out a nightmare that clearly shook him to the core.

“Ashton,” you said in a small voice. “Don’t push me away. Please.”

Those words made him look at you. Those words were his words, begging you to give him another chance, to make up for the mistakes he made when you met again. They were Ashton’s words, not Fletcher’s; they made you stop in your tracks, made you listen to him. They broke you in a way you’ve known you will never be broken again. That was the first time you’ve really let him into your heart, and you never wanted him to leave.

Ash sighed deeply, slowly turning around in his chair to face you, though his head was down. His fingers nervously twitched in his lap, and he started wringing his hands, looking for the rings he usually wore to play with. He once told you that sometimes he felt naked without them, and he liked wearing at least one to mindlessly spin it around, or take it off and put it back on. You moved a little closer, pushing your knees against his, slowing down his bouncing feet. Leaning forward you reached for him, pushing your fingers between his tightly clasped ones, and interlocked them. There was a slight shake to his hands, and you gently ran your thumb over his skin, trying to calm him again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed, slowly looking up at you from under his lashes. “I’m just… unsure.”

“Of me?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to see all of him. He just shook his head.

“Of myself,” Ashton answered, rubbing your hands with his thumbs. “If I’m good enough for you.”

“Of course you are,” you squeezed his fingers in yours, pushing your forehead against his. “You are my Ashton. How could you not be good enough for me?”

“That’s not what everyone else thinks,” he said with a humourless laugh. “People talk, all over town.”

“Some neighbourhood gossip won’t make me leave you,” you shook your head. “What could they tell me that I don’t already know? I know you, Ash, I know who you are.”

“You have the heart of an angel, and I’m the devil who’s holding you back,” he whispered, tilting his head down.

“Maybe I’ve had enough of heaven,” your hand went to his jaw, slowly tipping his chin up to look back at you. “If hell is where you are, then I’m packing all of my bags to be with you.”

“Y/N…”

“Or maybe they have it the wrong way around,” you continued. “Cause you definitely feel like heaven to me. Maybe it’s not their definition of the place. But screw them – my heaven is all tattooed up and gorgeous.”

A blush coloured his cheek, and he moved closer to rest his forehead on your shoulder, his legs bracketing yours. You were tangled up in each other, silently sitting in the kitchen for a few minutes, Ashton’s hand on your thighs while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Then he slowly pulled back, rubbing his eyes – was it tears, or sleep, you didn’t know – and looked back at you again.

“Your parents still hate me,” he added, resting his elbow on the table, leaning his head against his hand.

“They hate everyone,” you answered with a shrug. “They even hate me. That’s not an accomplishment.”

“I’m sure they would prefer anyone else over me,” he searched you with his eyes. “Someone who can give you a real future.”

“What do you think, what does a girl need?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, and it was his turn to shrug.

“Financial security?” he asked, and when you rolled your eyes at him, he continued. “Someone like that guy you work with – what’s his name? Liam?”

“A suit and tie?” you shook your head, putting your hands on his knees to lean closer. “Really, Ash? When I can have you, your jackets and chains, and the fire red Mustang? Well, tough luck, because you’re stuck with me for good.”

“But am I enough for you?” Ashton sighed, reaching for you and holding your face in his hands, making you really look at each other. “I wanna give you the world. Hell, I wanna give you the galaxy. The universe. But I’m just this guy, fixing cars and running my mouth at people. And you… you’re smart and beautiful and could get anyone you set your eyes on.”

“And that’s you,” you nuzzled your face against his hand, looking at him pleadingly. “You’re the only one I want.”

“What if Liam asked you on a date? Or one of the guys at that course? What if you get along so much that you realize that you could just… do better than me?” his gaze slipped down to the ring resting against your chest, saying the next words looking at it. “You know I would do anything for you… but I know I can’t keep you forever.”

“Ash, how long have we known each other?” you asked, reaching for him, brushing his hair behind his ear.

“7 or 8 years. Dunno. Why is that important now?” he sighed, shaking his head.

“What do you think… how many guys did I date during that time?” you questioned him, but did not wait for an answer. “Only two. And you wanna know their names?”

“Please don’t kick me when I’m already down,” he whispered, but you’ve had enough.

“They are Fletcher and Ashton. They are you, Ash. I might have had a few flings and one night stands, and sure, I went on a few dates with guys. But it was only ever you I had a real thing with. It was only you who was ever good enough for me.”

“Then why did you even go on those dates if you didn’t want anything from them?” the question left Ashton before he could stop himself, and you could see him flinch when he realized what he’d said.

“I wanted to know how I felt about other people. I wanted to give myself a chance, see how we could work out. You know – if you never try, you’ll never know,” you shrugged a little while reaching for his hand, slowly interlocking your fingers with his. “And I– I think I wanted to know how you would react.”

“Remember the hole in the wall?” he quirked an eyebrow at you, and you needed to stifle a laugh.

“I was always waiting for you to show up during your dates,” you confessed, squeezing his hand in yours. “You know, just crash them. I wanted you to crash them. I know it took me a long time to let you in…”

“Well, half the time you were mad at me,” he said, leaning closer and resting his forehead against yours. “For one reason, or the other.”

“And in the other half I desperately wanted you to kiss me,” you finished, nuzzling your nose to his.

“You know I would have done it in a second,” he breathed. “I wanted to walk up to every single one of those guys and tell them that you’re… that you’re…”

“Come on,” you whispered, licking your lips. “Say it.”

“Mine.”

“Don’t think I was never asked on dates at my job or at school,” you gazed at him while saying the next part. “I was, numerous times. You know what I say to them when they call me pretty? Thank you, my boyfriend thinks so too. Or when they invite me for coffee? Thanks, but Ash is already bringing me some. And when they don’t want to let it go, I say: trust me, you do not want to meet him.”

“Are you really saying those things?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“I’m also implying that I’m having the best sex of my life, and I don’t plan on giving up on that,” you finished with a smile.

A moment later Ashton started laughing – it was his first real laugh of the night, and he hid his face, trying to stifle his giggles. It was the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Suddenly the night wasn’t that dark, but instead everything seemed to start to glow a little bit. It was Ashton’s smile, shining through the blacks, dark blues and grays of the night, warming up the chilling air around you, shifting everything back to your usual teasing, but loving normal, the one you’ve built up together.

“I love your smile,” you whispered when he finally looked back at you, still trying to catch his breath. “I know I’ve always told you that you should wipe that grin off of your face, but god, I’m happy you never did. I just… there are so many things I just love about you that I’ve thought I hated before. Like your snake tattoo, or your loud car and obnoxious sunglasses… your terrible jokes and sexual innuendos, and how you never fail to say them at the worst times… I love your stupid red hair, and…”

“My hair is not stupid,” Ash mumbled, a smile still playing at the corner of his mouth.

“No,” you shook your head, reaching once again for him to brush your fingers through his red locks. “No, it’s not.”

Ash nuzzled closer, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the caresses and light tugs on his hair, making a small noise that almost sounded like purring. He turned his head, brushing his lips against your wrist as you wrapped a curl around your finger, pushing it behind his ear, stroking your hand down his cheek and jaw. Hazel eyes followed the movement of your fingers until you ran your thumb over his chin, and his gaze finally found yours.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked him softly, pulling back a little to see his face.

“Are you asking for permission?” there was another small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and a slight blush coloured his cheeks.

“Just checking if you are in the right headspace,” you returned his smile, and he nodded shortly.

“I would love that.”

Without a second thought you leaned forward, one of your hands sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, the other one cradling his jaw, tilting his head a little to the side. His breath was hot on your face as you moved closer, cheeks and noses brushing, lips slowly pressing against each other – one soft, the other slightly chapped. You kissed his bottom lip, moving to the top, nuzzling closer and closer, until he opened his mouth and let you kiss him deeper, brushing his tongue against yours as you both tasted the other. Ash made a needy little sound as you nipped on his lips and kissed his chin, his jaw, brushing against his cheek as you nudged your nose against the soft skin behind his ear.

“I chose you, Ashton. I’ve been choosing you every single day since that night on the beach, and I’ll do it as long as you let me. I’m freakin’ in love with you if that hasn't been clear before,” you breathed softly, kissing the shell of his ear. “You’ve been on my mind for the last 8 years, and if that’s not love, then you have to find a better word for me, because I’m failing here, and you know I’m good with words. But you just have this effect on you where I completely lose my sanity, and I would gladly give up on it forever, if it meant I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Ash reached for you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you out of your chair, and sitting you on his lap. His hand rested on your thigh, keeping you close to his body, as his fingers ran through your hair, guiding your face to his again. It was his turn to kiss you, and he started with the softest of touches, just to feel each other’s breath on your lips, the warmness of the other’s skin, the shiver running through you when you’ve finally lost your patience. Noses and lips pushed together, and he kissed you deeply, tongue brushing against yours as you were holding onto his shoulders. His scent clouded your mind, his touch burnt your skin, and you never wanted this moment to end.

“I love you,” Ash pulled away just enough to brush his lips against yours as he spoke. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You pressed another kiss on his temple, cuddling closer in his lap to feel as much of his skin as you could. His arms wrapped around you more strongly, and he rested his head on your shoulder, pushing his face into your neck. For a few minutes you’ve stayed like this – slow caresses on waists and backs, fingers brushing over hair and tattoos, lips leaving small kisses wherever they could.

“Come on,” you ran your thumb over Ashton’s cheek. “I think it’s time we go back to bed.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to keep you away from your studying,” he started apologizing, but you shook your head, smiling at him.

“Screw exams. You’ll always be my first priority,” you tugged a little on his hair, tilting his head up towards you. “How does that sound to you?”

“Like something I’ve always wanted from you,” Ash returned your smile, then reached for your hand to kiss your knuckles. “Thank you, beautiful.”

You climbed down from his lap and reached for him to pull him up from the chair. You made our way back to the bedroom where the sheets were freshly changed and the pillows fluffed up just as Ashton liked it. He hesitated for a moment – the nightmare was still fresh in his mind, and even after you’ve talked through everything, he was still a little bit shaken from it.

“It’s alright,” you leaned against his side, pressing a kiss on the tattoo on his arm. “I’m here now.”

“I’m– scared to fall back to sleep,” he admitted, then sighed deeply. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No, Ash. It’s perfectly normal,” you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t ever feel ashamed, especially not because of your dreams. You’re human, it’s okay to fall sometimes. I’ll always be here to pick you up.”

“How did I get so lucky?” he turned to you, gathering you in his arms for a hug, resting his head on top of yours.

“Must have been that lucky charm of yours,” you answered with a smile, feeling the ring resting between your bodies.

“You are my lucky charm,” Ashton whispered, brushing the hair back from your face.

“Well, then you should definitely hold onto me.”

He huffed at you with a smile, shaking his head. You pulled him down on the bed, both of you getting comfortable under the blankets – Ash scooted as close to you as he could, nuzzling his face between your head and shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, letting him rest his weight on you, running your fingers through his hair.

“You smell so good,” he mumbled against your skin, pushing his nose to your pulse point. “Am I not too heavy?”

“You’re perfect where you are,” you continued brushing your fingers over his curls, skimming them over the back of his neck, down his shoulders, then back up again. “How are you feeling?”

“Like maybe I will be able to fall asleep,” he breathed, then reached for the ring hanging from your neck. “Is it okay if I stay like this?”

“Your peace of mind is worth every numb limb and hours spent awake,” you kissed his forehead, then the hand holding onto the ring. “You would do the same for me. And just so you know, you make an excellent pillow.”

“You too,” he closed his eyes, resting his hand back on your side, cuddling close. “Will you… will you hold my hand? Please?”

Without another word you slid your fingers against his, interlocking them. He squeezed your hand in return, letting out one last sigh as he slowly let go of all the tension that kept him awake. His body melted against yours, muscles relaxing as his breathing evened out, and in a few minutes all you could feel was his light snoring tickling your neck. You brushed your fingers through his hair again, pressing one last goodnight kiss on his forehead before resting back against your pillows.

Ashton slept soundly in your arms, head resting on your shoulder, arm thrown over your waist, fingers interlocked on the bed. He fit perfectly against you, his weight all the comfort you needed in your life. You would have stayed up all night just to make sure he had no more nightmares, but his soft sleepy sounds slowly lulled you to sleep too. The last thing you remembered was his lips brushing against your neck as he shuffled in his sleep, and you fell asleep with a smile on your face. You knew for sure he was your forever – and you planned on reminding him of that every single day for the rest of your lives. Even if it meant chasing away his nightmares every night. Because he was worth it.