#thanks for reading ♡♡♡

[mimimar]

finally completed my comic based on the song ivy by taylor swift!✿ please zoom in to read the text and see the details~

✿.✿.✿

you can get the digital zine pdf here! it includes extras like character profiles, costume design, more art of willow and ivy, zine-exclusive sketches and an illustrated guide to the symbolism of all the flowers in this comic.

you can also get prints of individual pages here!

✿.✿.✿

[sceletaflores]

no logan actually has me in a chokehold, all I can think of is him being away for a mission but you’re so needy for him that you grab one of his flannels and ball it up and shove it in between your legs and then basically humping it to get off, and maybe he comes back early from said mission and you don’t hear him come in so he’s just watching you for a while before he’s had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands, btw love your writing keep up the good work!!💕💕

nat’s note: i read this and immediately had to put my phone down and walk away to breathe for a second. your mind is so beautiful anon, thanks a bunch for sharing! hope you love it <333

|| feat. logan howlett x fem!reader || 18+ SMUT MDNI ||

Six days is a long time.

Six days without Logan is almost unbearable.

The first three days were fine, nice even. You had the whole house to yourself, free to sprawl out on the couch and binge watch the guilty pleasure shows he always makes fun of.

The quiet was a welcome change—you could really relax, could sit with your thoughts.

Then day four rolled around, and things changed.

You started to notice the little things—the leather jacket he left slung over the back of the dining room table chair, the way the bed felt too big without him, how cold you were at night without him plastered to your back.

By day five, the quiet wasn’t soothing anymore; it felt empty.

You missed the sound of his voice, missed his scent melded in the sheets of your bed, missed the warmth of his body next to yours.

And by day six? Well, six days without Logan wasn’t just lonely anymore—it was a special kind of torture.

It wasn’t just the emotional closeness or the comfort of his presence you longed for—it was the rough scrape of his stubble on your skin, the way his body pressed into yours, heavy and demanding. The way his voice dropped when he growled your name, hands gripping your hips with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t just miss him, you craved him.

It was settling in an unbearable ache, low in your stomach. A constant thrum that served as a reminder of just how much you missed his touch.

You didn't realize just how spoiled he'd gotten you. You haven't gone a day without at least four orgasms all year. Logan made sure of that, enforces it like it's a house rule he'd die before breaking.

You’d gotten too used to the feel of his hands roaming over your body, the way his lips traveled from your mouth down to the space between your thighs, the way his cock brushes against that special spot inside you each time he slides home in your pussy.

Your body longed for him in a way that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Every thought seemed to circle back to Logan, to what it would feel like to have him here, right now.

The worst part—no amount of toys or creative use of your hands was enough to soothe that ache. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to satisfy yourself; nothing worked.

The frustration was unbearable.

You blame that for your lapse in judgement when you made your way into your shared closet.

It was completely innocent at first, just you looking for something to wear to bed.

You only happened to trip over a shirt Logan must have left strewn across the floor before leaving. One of his favorites, a worn down brown and red flannel you'd seen him in countless times.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you bent down and scooped it up, burying your face in it. His scent—earthy, woodsy, and unmistakably him—hit you like a freight train as heat began to pool between your legs.

Suddenly, it was like Logan was there, surrounding you completely, teasing you with his absence. The ache deepened, twisting into something even more unbearable.

It was almost too much. That raw desire you’d been trying to hold at bay snapped its leash, and suddenly, the thought of going to bed wasn’t even an option.

You were already soaking wet by the time you made it to bed, greedy lungfuls of Logan's scent enough to get you there in no time.

The flannel was warm in your hands, the roughed up fabric felt oddly comforting against your fingertips and the skin of your cheeks.

As you settled onto the mattress, a thought crept in. Wicked and indulgent in a way that made your ears burn with shame and your stomach swirl with heady arousal that fanned the fire raging between your legs.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid your panties off, your body already tingling with anticipation

You pulled the shirt between your legs, pressing it against your dripping core, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a vice.

You moaned at the feeling, the first rush of relief flowing through you like water through a desert. The friction, the smell, it was almost like he was in bed with you, touching you, guiding your movements. But no matter how nice it felt, it still wasn’t enough.

The ache was only just lessened, the thrum of need was still there, undeniable and persistent.

With a whine, you leaned back on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, and you started to rock your hips against the fabric. Every movement sent delicious waves of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t the same. Not quite. You needed more—needed him.

Your fingers gripped the flannel tighter, dragging it harder against your aching clit. Eyes squeezing shut, you let out a desperate moan, hips working so fast the bed frame started thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the fantasy of him—of him under you, of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His voice low and gravelly as he whispered filthy things in your ear.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you were so lost in your thoughts, so caught up in the moment, that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps making their way through the house, getting closer and closer.

But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, your eyes shot wide, and there he was.

Logan, home a day early.

He’s stood in the doorway. His sharp gaze locked on you, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something else—something dangerous.

Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, but your body refused to stop moving, hips still grinding slowly against his flannel as if they have a mind of their own.

You expect him to say something, to scold you, maybe—but instead, a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face.

Without breaking eye contact, he crosses the room, shedding his leather jacket with a deliberate slowness as he does. He drops into the chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I didn't say to slow down," he growls, the edge in his voice making your stomach flip. "Keep going, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

The command in his voice was irresistible. Your body responding before your mind could even catch up, hips rolling against the flannel faster again, a soft whimper slipping from your lips. The friction feels even better knowing he’s watching, eyes dark and heavy with desire as he sees you fall apart.

"Logan, please" you gasp, hips moving faster.

"Please what, darlin'?" he hums.

"I don't- ah! Anything, please," you rush out, eyes glued to the obscene spread of his legs, where his strong thighs stretch the thick denim taught.

Logan shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "No, you wanna get yourself off without me you do it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, baby."

You whine, high and loud as tears burn at your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I can't," you sob, voice tiny and pitiful in the quiet of the room.

"Don't be like that, princess," he chastises, clicking his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Know you can come just like this. Bet that pussy's been drippin' for days, huh?"

You nod pitifully, biting down on your lip as your legs starting trembling on either side of the balled up shirt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice dripping with lust. “So needy you couldn’t even wait for me, huh? You missed my cock that bad?”

You nod again breathless, the pressure building between your thighs becoming unbearable as his words wash over you.

“Bet you were thinkin’ about me, weren't you?” His voice drops, rich and syrupy, and it crawls over your skin like a slow burn. “All this time, wishing it was me between your legs instead of that fucking shirt.”

Your movements grow more frantic, eyes dropping to his lap, zeroing in on where his thick cock presses against his thigh, tenting his jeans lewdly. Your mouth waters, lips dropping open with a quiet moan as you imagine him slipping between them, fucking your throat and making your jaw ache.

“Such a dirty little thing,” he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You like putting on a show for me, don’t you? Gettin' off starin' at my cock while you fuck yourself with my shirt? Goddamn, I can see how fuckin' soaked you are from here.”

The flannel was soaked now, wet and clinging to your folds as you desperately rub yourself against it, your body trembling with need. Every roll of your hips makes you more desperate, more sensitive, pleasure coiling tight in your belly and almost ready to snap.

Your moans grow louder, filling the room as you chase your release, the rough fabric of his flannel dragging against your swollen clit in all the right ways. Logan watching you—making you do this—had you teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in sharp pants.

His voice was a constant stream of filth, each word sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“Atta' girl, that's it,” he rasps, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me. Drench that shirt, baby. Make a mess of it. I’ll fuck you right after, promise.”

You were teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling with need as you rock against the flannel harder, faster, desperate for release.

"Come on, baby," he goads, leaning forward in his chair, eyes burning with something feral as he licks his lips. "If you get it nice and dirty for me, I'll wear it for you."

That was all it took. The thought of Logan walking around in his shirt after this, the fabric soaked with your essence, staking your claim on him, has you coming.

Your body shudders violently as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, hips jerking erratically against the flannel as you cry out his name, hot tears spilling freely down your cheeks.

Logan growls in satisfaction, eyes locked on you, watching as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He stands from the chair, slow and deliberate, stalking toward the bed with a dark gleam in his eyes as his hands drop to his belt.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, voice thick with desire as he climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. His lips brush your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn, baby. And I ain’t even close to done with you yet.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

a/n: wow this really got away from me lmao...it was not supposed to be so long ANDDD sorry for the low-key fade to black ending but I had no idea how to end this heheh okay bye love you!

[ma1dita]

said he likes crazy

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 2.1k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's been avoiding you since your first kiss. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: SAID HE LIKES CRAZY GIRLS, BUT HE HATES WHEN I ACT CRAZY guys i didnt sleep for this pls tell me its ok

(posted 1/29/24, beta’d by the lovely ellie @lixzey )

—

He’s been avoiding you. 

To be specific, Luke’s been running away from you. Typical son of Hermes, and a typical teenage boy at that. But if anyone’s asked you what’s up (which, they all have, after almost 4 years of seeing you two not go a day without bickering), it’s just easier to say you’ve been busy.

Okay, so perhaps you’ve been avoiding him too.

Annabeth clocked you as soon as you turned tail after almost bumping into him after archery practice. Damn children of Athena; it’d be nice if they weren’t so perceptive sometimes.

“What did he do this time?” she pipes up, filling the silence of the Big House. It’s late now, and the cabin counselors’ meeting just ended.

“Seeing as you’re the one helping me with the paperwork tonight and not him, you can take a good guess, Annie,” you sigh.

Honestly though, who the fuck kisses someone senseless and then runs away? (Luke Castellan, that’s who.) You weren’t sure what to make of it. You’re a daughter of chaos, after all, not love. But if there’s anyone who can read your emotions better than yourself, it’s him. 

Annabeth stares at her idiot brother through the window as he wanders in the grass outside the Big House.

“That bad, huh?”

“He’s just…being Luke,” you say, blinking slowly as you shuffle through the last of the files you need to put on your dad’s desk before you mutter, “I’m just having a bad day.”

A noise of concern makes its way up Annabeth’s throat. You haven’t had a bad day in a while, in all honesty, not one that makes you act like this, admittedly not one that makes you act like you— the daughter of Dionysus, god of insanity, and not the daughter of Mr. D, camp director.

It was just a bad day until it turned into a bad week, and the voices in your head were starting to get loud without Luke distracting you. Because that’s what he ultimately is, a distraction from your camp duties. 

There’s so much to do and so little time, however, that you hide away your microexpressions that seem to be clawing at you from the inside. The anger, the mania, the hurt. If you unleash it, only the gods can predict how much of camp would be affected by your ‘outbursts’, as your dad likes to call them. Not like you had a choice in the matter. Your days of wreaking havoc are behind you, now presenting yourself as the stellar star of the Camp Half-Blood show. It’s almost a one-woman production with you picking up after your father and trying to tame the traits he passed down.

Thanks for that, D. 

So you give and you give and you give—all your attention and time and effort into keeping camp upright, into being the perfect daughter, that at the end of the day, you’ve drained yourself of who you are with who you try to be.

You look at your tired reflection in the window, before your eyebrow raises at the sight of Luke blending in with the shadows of the tree he’s leaning against. Idiot.

“Annie, would you mind…”

“Yeah, I’ll do cabin checks myself. Might drag your brother to do them with me,” she smiles, patting your arm before grabbing her bag.

“If he complains, let me know. Pollux has heard me bitch enough today.” The small girl raises an eyebrow at that, biting her tongue from responding. You chewed out a lot of people today, acting extra uptight and demanding of the counselors to “just do the right thing.” It was almost insufferable, but despite you trying to hold it in, your emotions bled into their own. Everyone was agitated by the end of the meeting, filing out quickly with biting words and hot tempers. You couldn’t help but notice Luke led them all out of there, and they also somehow got the feeling that he was to blame. 

Smiling at Annabeth in thanks, you watch her walk out to Luke before punching him in the stomach as he grimaces, meeting your violet gaze through the window as he raises a hand. It’s hard to tell if it’s to signal a truce or his embarrassment, but he trudges the way up the path and the door creaks open.

“Heard you were having a bad day,” he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. You look at him from the corner of your eye as you continue to write down the weekly to-dos and organize papers for your dad to sign and send back to Zeus.

“Why are you still here, Castellan?”

“So we’re back to that? I thought…” his voice trails off at the sound of his last name, not Luke, not angelface, or anything in between, and both of you are unsure how to proceed. Neither of you have done this before, at least not with each other. You tilt your head to the side, daring him to speak, and it reminds him of a week ago, you bathed in sunlight when he leaned in and kissed you. Though if he did that right now, he’s not sure how you’d react. 

“It’s just a bad day,” you whisper in defeat, lilac eyes wilting in front of him like an overwatered flower.

He realizes then that he cares for you more than he knows how to. And Luke knows what it means when you’re having a bad day.

There’s a deranged look in your eye, a subtle eye twitch and clench of your jaw that is almost insusceptible to the average demigod, but he knows you’re on edge, having taunted you mercilessly until you scream, cry, laugh, or all of the above. But most of all you look tired and in need of someone who knows how it feels to be underappreciated. 

“D’s a great dad to the twins. But I just feel like… maybe he wasn’t meant to be mine,” you whisper, rolling your tongue against the front of your teeth to push back the sob a 14-year-old version of you would let out deep in the dark of cabin 11, having been there for months and knowing Dionysus was your father and waiting for him to see you. To know you. 

“Giving me a hard time about all of this,” you say, hands gesturing to the things you have to prepare for him by morning. You’re overworked, underpaid, and definitely not appreciated— and Luke decides he hates your dad for what he puts you through, not just as a shitty camp director but as a shitty dad. He’s learned to live with the hurt—to use it to fuel his vengeance for how he plans to make the world better. But your ambition makes you change yourself constantly to try to be better. Both fatal flaws are fueled by the ignorance of your fathers. He knows the feeling all too well.

He knows you.

“What do you need?” he asks simply, stepping closer to your form hunched over the desk.

“I can do it, you know. D’s wrong about me,” you whisper, and the words come out sounding so desperate for him to believe the performance you always put on that you avert your eyes.

He doesn’t need to be convinced; instead, he holds his arms out waiting for you to let you make the next move. Luke is neither a fool nor a knave— there are no tricks here, no hidden agenda as he watches you try to compose yourself with a deep breath instead of showing him the real you. The one who’s beneath the mask of being head counselor, your father’s saving grace, and the one who carries her responsibilities like Atlas carries the weight of the sky.

“I know you can. You always have. You really think I’m here to help you file paperwork?”

“Will you let me?” Whether he meant sharing the workload or being there for you, you wouldn’t dare to ask. It’s all the same, anyway—laying yourself bare for someone to peek into your mind and have them not laugh at it.

Suddenly you speak, and the intensity of your tone makes him straighten his posture. 

“Sometimes… Do you ever feel the need to just…”

“What?” He reaches out to tug your hair, and in the dim light, he can see the bloom of your cheeks. You’re shy, and Luke thinks you look soft like this, wary of how he perceives you.

“I shouldn’t.” Fuck the gods. He can see the thought form in your eyes, the heat of your stare tearing through his, and his lips pull into a smirk.

“What was that, Trouble?” 

“Luke, don’t be an asshole…” You say warily, biting the inside of your cheek. There’s no way you’re going down in the history books for cursing the gods because Luke Castellan of all people made you. 

“I thought you liked me like that,” he’s grinning now, and grabbing your chin lightly, mouthing the words to echo your thoughts. 

Fuck the gods.

“Fuck.” you whisper, before your voice fails you, your eyes closing both from his touch and the genuine fear of the heavens falling down from the sacrilege falling from your lips.

“Louder,” he whispers, pulling your face up close to his, “come on, you used to be more fun, Trouble. I believe in you.”

“Fuck!” you say louder and he’s whispering in your ear, urging you to toe the line between perfect child and degenerate.

“Say it again.”

“FUCK! FUCK THE…” you yell before you sigh exasperatedly, eyes widening as you feel the breath release from your chest before your head lolls onto his shoulder. 

“Gods, you’re fucking insane, Castellan.”

He laughs lowly, and it sounds as sweet as sin. Your smiling lips make an imprint on his collarbone, and he wishes they would sear themselves on there for the rest of eternity.

“Hey, I get it from you. Feel better?”

To be seen is a fickle thing. But to be known is something more intimate, and nothing will be able to erase the connection you both share—fatal flaws and all. There are things you can’t change about people, what they are at their core, and so he takes what you hate about yourself with both hands and pulls you towards his chest until you settle against him with a sniffle. Luke tilts your chin up again, a rough thumb wiping away evidence of your watery smile. He thinks he sees a glimpse of a past you—a younger one that dyed his socks purple to make him feel like he belongs here. And he knows now that he does belong with you, right here as he holds you in the quiet of the Big House.

“Ugh, I’ll kiss you later, I still have to finish up here. You’re not off the hook, angelface.” You sigh, pushing away from him before he tugs you back, your feet stumbling as you roll your eyes at his impish expression.

“Let me make it up to you then, Trouble.”

“What, so you run away again?” you scoff, snickering at the sight of his ego being taken down a notch.

“I’ve just….I don’t know how to do all of this with you. Guess I’m worried it won’t meet your expectations, Miss Head Counselor.” A boyish sort of bashfulness crosses his features, and he’s twirling a piece of your hair in his hands like spinning silk.

“I just hope you never stop surprising me. That’s all I ask.”

Your hand touches his wrist lightly, and he sighs like you’ve already taken his breath away.

“I keep my promises. Do you?”

“Who said a kiss was a promise? I meant it as a threat,” you laugh before he’s pressing your hips into the table, nose nudging against yours and suddenly work is off the table for the rest of the night.

You on the table, however, well... that could be negotiated.

“I knew something was wrong with me when your so-called threats got less scary and more sexy,” Luke teases, running a finger on the side of your cheek. His breath tickles your lips, and you can imagine the rage your father would feel if he caught the two of you in his office like this. Besides the blatant defiance, you briefly wonder if your rebellion would get him to respect you more. An interesting thought.

“You’re absolutely terrible. I need to get this done… The gods don’t wait for us.”

A weak sigh leaves your mouth as your brain is already riddled with thoughts of him and he closes the gap between your lips.

“They can wait until morning. For now, you’re mine.”

—

“You can’t love someone unless you love yourself first — bullshit.

I have never loved myself.

But you —

Oh god, I loved you so much I forgot what hating myself felt like. (via swxrn-in)”

ask to be added to general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[galatially]

alice, i love you so much! even though you put me in the corner lol

❝𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞❞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧 x 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 686

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫�� — sam wilson wants to devour you whole

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up, kiddos!), cocky!Sam (warning in and off itself)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i was very much self-indulgent in this little drabble for America's ass and I practiced self-control and kept it under 1K!

i don't have a tag list but i do have a library where all of my works live,@galatially-wrote so please check it out! reblogs and comments are much appreciated ♡♡♡

“Sam.”

His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as he dragged his cock along your walls in a slow, torturous motion, dragging out moan after whimper after gasp from your lips.

“You like that, baby?” Sam rutted his hips against yours, the drag of his cock languid along your velvet walls. Hands moved to push your legs towards your torso, deepening his thrusts. “Fuck — you feel so fucking good.”

You let out a soft gasp and took your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I want to hear you, baby,” he drawled. “I want your neighbors to hear how good I fuck you.”

How did he always manage to make the filthiest things sound like literal honey? It was the Southern drawl, it had to be. He could ask you to rob a bank and you’d comply without hesitation. Maybe it was the way his brown eyes softened just for you that made your knees go weak.

When Sam first approached you at your friend’s birthday dinner, you thought it was a mistake. That he’d mistaken you for someone else, someone glamorous and more refined.

But he assured you that he was, in fact, talking to you and promptly asked for your number. He would call you before or after missions, asking you about your day and your plans for the week. You’d text him in between shifts and before bed. You both had shared inside jokes and exchanged your favorite movies and music. One night, you decided to be adventurous and send Sam a suggestive text. As soon as your thumb hit the blue arrow, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. Panic settled in your chest.

You’d just sent Sam Wilson — Captain America — a sext! What if he left you on read? Worse yet, what if he rejected you? Ghosting you could tolerate; the entire situation was too good to be true, anyway. But to be blatantly rejected? That would bruise your ego more than you’d care to admit.

I’m on my way

Your heart almost fell out of your ass.

That’s how you ended up here: beneath the broad, beautiful man that had become the star in some of your filthiest fantasies as of late.

A sliver of moonlight that bled into your bedroom from between the half-drawn curtains illuminated Sam’s brown eyes, half-lidded with lust. He leaned forward and pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck and collarbone, dragging his teeth along your sweat-slick skin.

“Sam,” you hissed.

“You taste so sweet, you know that? Better than candy.”

His callused hands moved to cup your breasts as he fucked into you. Your head lolled to the side, a breathy gasp echoing from your throat. You locked your ankles around Sam’s hips and dug your heels into the flesh of his pert ass, wanting him deeper.

The slapping of skin on skin, the squelch of your sopping cunt, seemed to spur your lover to quicken his pace. Your mattress squealed in surprise at the sudden shift and your pussy tensed around Sam’s cock.

“You like that, pretty baby?”

“Sam — fuck. ‘M close.”

“Yeah? You want to cum?” His thumb played at your clit. “Make a mess on my cock?”

You fisted the sheets as you let out a breathy reply, your orgasm racing towards you. You let out a whine as your belly tensed. Your eyes fluttered behind your lids as a wrecked moan ripped from somewhere deep. Sam laced his fingers between yours, rutting his hips up into you at a brutal pace.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he groaned out. “‘M almost there.”

A hoarse, broken sob left his chest and he went slack above you, slotting his mouth over yours in a kiss that made your pussy slick. When he pulled away, you saw the smile on his face — the kind of bright, gap-toothed smile that could make your heart flutter and angels sing.

“You’re going to ruin me for other men. You know that, right?”

“Good,” Sam said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I don’t want other men touchin’ what’s mine, anyway.”

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL Master List

The Ones Who Live: Episode 1 - Episode 6

Episode One - “Years” 🪓

#1: The Hand (1.01)

#2: The Dreamgirl (1.01)

#3: The Getting Back To You (1.01)

#4: The Bench (1.01)

#5: The Eager (1.01)

 #6: The Gone (1.01)

#7: The Choice (1.01)

#8: The Last Letter (1.01)

#9: The 5 Pizzas & A Wedding Ring (1.01)

#10: The Burning (1.01)

Episode Two - “Gone” 🗡

#11: The One & Only  (1.02)

#12: The Building (1.02)

#13: The Recovery (1.02)

#14: The Magnetic Reunion (1.02)

#15: The Going (1.02)

#16: The Secret Rendezvous (1.02)

#17: The Danger (1.02)

Episode Three - “Bye” 🚁

#18: The Broken Bliss (1.03)

#19: The Bad B (1.03)

#20: The 'Poison' (1.03)

#21: The Getaway Plan (1.03)

#22: The Trouble in 'Paradise' (1.03)

#23: The Portrait (1.03)

#24: The Helplessly Devoted  (1.03)

#25: The Irresistible (1.03)

#26: The Crazy (1.03)

Episode Four - “What We” 👑

#27: The Timeout (1.04)

#28: The Big Reveal (1.04)

#29: The Malfunction (1.04)

#30: The Story of the Brave Man (1.04)

#31: The Heart Rip (1.04)

#32: The Safety (1.04)

#33: The Push (1.04)

#34: The Trapped (1.04)

#35: The Buildup (1.04)

#36: The Ressurection (1.04)

#37: The Good Kind Heart (1.04)

#38: The Scars (1.04)

#39: The Love of My Life (1.04)

#40: The Living Dead (1.04)

#41: The Loving Memory (1.04)

#42: The Fuel (1.04)

Episode Five - “Become” 💍

#43: The Good Life (1.05)

#44: The Family Gifts (1.05)

#45: The Son's Best Friend (1.05)

#46: The Never Letting Go (1.05)

#47: The Lovebirds & The Snake (1.05)

#48: The Wedding Plans (1.05)

#49: The Final Deal (1.05)

#50: The Dream Come True (1.05)

#51: The Mr. & Mrs. Grimes (1.05)

Episode 6 - “The Last Time” 🧨

#52: The Ring Finger (1.06)

#53: The Dossier (1.06)

#54: The Missed (1.06)

#55: The Future Generations (1.06)

#56: The Real CRM (1.06)

#57: The Father (1.06)

#58: The Fearless (1.06)

#59: The Eternal Love (1.06)

#60: The Cure (1.06)

#61: The Happy Ending (1.06)

#62: The Happy Beginning (1.06)

[soapoet]

describing the dynamic...

...a requested continuation of this post.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: First day of my life by Bright Eyes

This feels like home. It is familiar and it is sweet. The two of you create an air of comfort, which draws in various orphans of the storm. Like a safe haven amidst stormy seas. A lighthouse. This has the blueprint of starting a found family. Your union echos with lots of laughter, the kind that brings tears and stomachaches. The joy here is tangible and it is imprinted in everything. Your dynamic is like an evolved version of puppy love. It's nervous, but adoring. Giddy and rosy. It feels like best friends falling in love. They know you and you know them at a deep level. The foundation upon which this relationship stands could withstand hurricanes, though there isn't much to worry about. Most issues that crop up seem a little silly, and you may laugh about them afterwards. Personal doubts and misunderstandings are the worst that can happen here, which are mostly due to the doglike loyalty and care you have for one another. Ever seen the face of a pooch when they've done something they shouldn't have? They appear so sheepish even though their mistake or mischief really isn't all that bad or serious. We often laugh at our beloved pets when they appear so apologetic because it is so often wildly out of proportion for their actual crime. The same applies to this relationship. Doubts may occasionally become bigger in your heads and cause a similar out of proportion shame or guilt or concern about how the other will react. Many inside jokes may stem from these situations, actually. Despite the occasional and shortlived whirlwind of doubt and concern about the status of the relationship, your communication is very good and open and clear. You might both simply have a hard time expressing yourselves when it comes to negative feelings and experiences, likely stemming from your upbringing. Which brings me to the point of healing. A key feature of this relationship is just that. Healing. The two of you treat each other the way you wish you had been treated growing up. As though you are raising each other's wounded inner child in a much better, loving, and attentive environment. There is a lot of validation and tenderness present. The reciprocation is beautifully balanced. When one is feeling low, the other takes on a guardian role, comforting and supporting them in various ways. Need a doctor's appointment but you're too anxious to call? Your partner gotchu. Next time they're ill you'll be making them soup and wrapping them up in a blanket. The give and take feels natural, like neither of you need to think twice about it, and best of all: nobody's keeping score.

02.

Shufflemancy: High heels by Mando Diao

Once this one gets going, it's long distance, not a sprint. Considering the delays this relationship experiences before it begins, however, the steady movement doesn't feel slow at all. And although this relationship is very spontaneous and fun, there is a balancing act at play wherein plans for the future are made early on. They want to make sure you're both on the same page and have an idea of where the relationship is headed right from the start to avoid conflicting ideas later. There are some traditional elements to this relationship because they lead a busy life professionally. Plans may be made to have you stay at home once things get serious, though they are very supportive of any business ideas you come up with or already have when you enter into the relationship. This person values ambition and drive, probably just as much as you do, and is very supportive of any endeavours you decide to pursue, and is likely to help fund or network to boost your success.

Expect frequent date nights. This person enjoys romance and works hard to keep the spark alive, so long as they don't feel smothered. When given the space and time they love to shower you with gifts and make you feel special. Travelling also figures strongly, and you may cross many destinations off your bucket list with this person. They favour quality over quantity, though, and may make it a point to spend big bucks on a resort for an extended period of time to really make the most of the destination and the time you get to spend together. It's possible the two of you eventually purchase a second home somewhere you like to visit. The two of you enjoy a rich social life as well, and may frequently entertain people in your home or at different venues. Your energy is contagious and other people are naturally drawn to the two of you because of the fun and welcoming energy created by your union. I'm not seeing much in terms of issues, mostly because the element of fun is so strong here. It feels very balanced because each of you gets to be in your favoured energy and feel appreciated for what you bring to the relationship. Very strong mutual respect. Each of you seem to succeed in life and your careers and projects better because the other is by your side. Reaching higher and farther because of the support of the other. This has an air of'us against the world', as though you are building an empire together. Your success is very new-money and modern. Flashy and extravagant, but still down-to-earth and humble in a way in which you really count your blessings and have much gratitude for what you have together and where you came from. The two of you may help or give back to your community, or donate to charity. It's possible they pay off your family's mortgage or do some other big financial gesture towards your family after the two of you commit. There is a lot of passion in this relationship. Very flirty, and there is a strong sexual attraction. The two of you make each other laugh a lot and may pull pranks on each other. Check out Destene and Brandon on youtube, because their dynamic mirrors this group a lot!

03.

Shufflemancy: Mary on a cross by Ghost

This is the one that will feel like things are too good to be true. You will want for nothing. The dynamic here is almost that of a knight and the one they have sworn to protect, or the royal and the peasant they chose for love. There is much adoration here, and it feels old-timey in a way. If you have been kissing frogs before, this one will really surprise you. They enjoy traditional courting and may look down upon the modern era of dating and the attitudes surrounding it, and don't like most of the people making them offers. They also appear to compensate for time spent apart through lavish gifts, and making sure you have everything that you need. There are a lot of calls and messages being sent back and forth, especially during their time away. They're very supportive of your studies or the projects you're working on, and will do everything in their power to create a good environment for you to do what you need to do. There is a strong possibility of them asking you to accompany them on their business travels, in an effort to help the two of you spend more quality time together. You have an energy that differs so much from what they have to deal with in their professional life, and they derive a big boost of motivation and confidence from it. It is almost as though they see you as their lucky charm.

The primary cause of friction appears to come from outside the relationship. You may frequently receive strange looks when you're together, or the way you differ somehow causes tension amongst your partner's peers. They, however, are incredibly proud of you and encourage you to speak your mind and stay true to yourself. They think you're perfect and don't want you to change, especially not through pressure from the kinds of people they find shallow or even fake. There could be instances where people try to steal your partner, but they fail horribly because of your partner's devotion to you. This can also go the other way, wherein people begin to pursue you in an attempt to steal you away from your partner, as if to spite them. You may receive invitations, offers, and gifts from people, especially ones you meet through your partner. This reveals a jealous streak in your partner which is very prevalent, but not in a toxic or controlling way. Because they have such social grace and know how to play the game, they never target you with their jealousy and dismay, but those who try to get in between. They are protective of what's theirs, but are very graceful and strategic in their methodology of solving problems. This also lends itself well to any wrinkles that need ironing in the relationship, because they don't appear to get angry and have a mentality that it's not you vs. them, but the two of you vs. the problem.

This dynamic may sometimes lead to waking up alone, but there is sure to be a lovely note left behind, or they may send flowers. They like to let you sleep in, and find you to be at your most beautiful when you're asleep because of the serene look on your face. You really help them feel at peace, which is something quite difficult for them to achieve on their own. They have trouble relaxing or doing things without it somehow boosting their qualifications or adding to their resume. You help them pick out books to read just because, watch movies regardless of their acclaim and accolades, go thrifting for the fun of it or visit the sweet little side street boutiques and unknown cafés. They really just feel like they have access to more oxygen when you're around, as though they've spent their whole life holding their breath and they can breathe easily and deeply around you.

04.

Shufflemancy: Me the machine by Imogen Heap

There is a whole lot going on here mentally. The two of you spend a lot of time talking, for hours upon hours. "Is that the sun?" can become a frequent phrase used when time slips through your fingers as you talk the night away to watch the sunrise. The two of you love to debate, especially in regards to matters you agree on, because it seems you reach the same conclusion from different angles and enjoy discussing each other's detours. They love picking your brain and value your opinions. There is a bit of a hopeless romantic in them, which may catch you off guard every time due to their cerebral nature. They might leave you notes or share songs to express their feelings. To them you are an equal, a missing puzzle piece that helps them see the bigger picture. You two are like the seeker and the explorer. They like holding hands and being close to you, but seem a little hesitant, even months into the relationship. You are certainly the more open and affectionate one, whilst they tend to be a little shy. Their awkwardness is quite charming, though, because they do try their best to show their love and support. Support plays a big role here, too, as they have a lot to teach you in various areas of life and you will grow quite a bit during this relationship. They are an excellent mentor and encourage you to chase your dreams, but are also good at holding you accountable. They can be a little blunt and clumsy with their words, but they mean well and wish for you to be the best that you can be and never sell yourself short. They really won't let anybody talk down on you, least of all you yourself. They have very high standards so any self-loating on your part feels insulting to them. They wouldn't date you if they didn't think you were incredible.

They enjoy your company and express genuine interest in your thoughts and ideas. You share many interests and engaging in them together is a big part of this relationship. You two are stronger together and can face many hardships with greater ease due to how you complete one another. Not in that you aren't whole on your own, but that your individual strengths and weaknesses balance each other out. Where you lack, they're abundant, and vice versa. It really makes for a dynamic duo, albeit one that may from the outside appear mismatched or peculiar. That does not stop you, though, and they especially have very little care for what other people think. The two of you may collaborate on various projects, or work together towards both joint and separate goals. Your minds and talents blend beautifully together, and your relationship is potent with inspiration and motivation. Tackling difficult tasks and the daily grind appears easier when you can delegate things depending on your individual strengths. The source of strife mostly stems from misunderstandings. Both of you value communication, but on occasion words are left unsaid or too much is said without prior thought and one of you gets hurt. This does not seem to ever be on purpose, just accidental slip-ups and thoughtlessness.

05.

Shufflemancy: Boys do cry by Marius Bear

Which one of you brought the gasoline? The dynamic here is hot and heavy. Passionate, as though desperation and need is causing you to crawl into each other's skin and wear each other's hearts. It can get a little crazy, fast paced and wild, in most things that you do. And you may get into quite a bit of trouble together, too. When Billie Eilish said 'I'm the powder, you're the fuse; let's add some friction' the two of you were taking notes. There is a lot of push and pull, and the relationship contains a lot of drama. Though I don't feel like that is wholly unwelcome, strangely enough. It seems beneficial for the two of you to keep each other on your toes, like you both crave some explosive feelings to feel fulfilled. This relationship really isn't for the faint of heart. But whilst others watch in horror, you make each other feel alive in this almost feral dance. They are very protective of you, and you of them. It's like you give each other scary dog privilege because nobody else can swoop in to steal a heart while the other stands on watch. You're both a little possessive, but it boils down to the deep connection you have feeling so intertwined with the very cores of your beings that losing the other would feel like losing yourself. Definitely worth checking yourselves for co-dependency to be sure it does not go overboard, but so long as you keep your individuality intact, this one is one hell of a ride. A ride or die, in fact. You are truly partners in crime and feel dangerously powerful together, like you could take over the world and overcome anything.

I won't sugar coat this: there is a lot of turmoil that the both of you conjure up. Most of the issues in this dynamic stem from the heightened emotions you are both capable of, and if either of you start wielding them as weapons it will cause even more explosive emotions. I will say, though, that this only gets physical in the make up part of the show, as the actual strife is emotional and verbal in nature. Because you care a lot for each other, neither would dare lay a hand on the other. The thought of you getting hurt by them or anyone or anything else would upset them greatly, and it's the same in reverse. You mirror each other a lot, and have much to learn from each other. Much of it will feel heavy and burdensome since you will be facing your own demons within the other person, and that's never easy. Fortunately there is a lot of gentle care here, too. Since you both feel things so strongly and have similar experiences in life, it is much easier for you to sympathise with each other and support each other. This is one of those relationships where you truly do not need to hide or be on your best behaviour, because you have both weathered storms and do not easily flinch when the thunder and lightning begin to roar, and you both provide each other shelter when needed.

06.

Shufflemancy: Light by Sleeping at last

I remember seeing a writing prompt once upon a time with the premise of seeing in greyscale until you lock eyes with your soulmate, and this has that exact energy. It really seems as though this person lead a very monotonous life until you barged in, inviting the sunshine into their life. Because in many ways they view you as the light of their life, they are very protective of you. You bring them much joy, laughter, and relaxation, all things they do very little of, at least successfully, and find themselves more able to partake in the joys of life in your presence. You are a breath of fresh air, as though someone finally opened up a window inside a stuffy office. They see stars in your eyes and they want nothing more than to preserve them, and make them shine even brighter. There is a little bit of a saviour complex here. Anything you struggle with they don an armour for to protect and to serve. Because you nurture their soul and heal their wounds with your tender love and care and expand their horizons with your sense of wonder, they feel compelled to take care of you. It feels almost familial, but not in a weird way. It is as if they want to keep your childlike wonder alive and well, and right any wrongs that come your way. They take a load off your shoulders frequently, and may especially take on all your mundane tasks and paperwork. They love your playful energy and can see that the stuffy stressors of life cage that bird in, and they want to see you soar. This is a very healing connection for both of you. You balance each other out whilst being a mentor for each other, teaching each other your strengths so that you two can feel whole and capable all in your own right. You are both willing to bend, to try new things, allow the other to show you new worlds and explore possibilities. Very likely to lead to marriage, and it would be a very happy and functional one because of the growth you inspire in one another both as individuals and together as one. It's like your relationship begins as a little sapling, slow, but once it has been given the space to grow it grows big and strong and will withstand any storm and leave behind a legacy, like your future children putting up a swing for their children on the tree you two once sowed.

[sunnemona]

☆2024 has been so difficult for me, and i want to end the year off on a high note by thanking everyone who’s been there for me through it.

☆thank you for talking to me. thank you for listening to me talk to you in return. thank you for staying on vc with me to play games or talk or draw or cry together. thank you for keeping my secrets. thank you for telling me yours. thank you for the gifts you’ve given me. thank you for the advice you’ve offered when i needed help. thank you for the silly messages you've sent me unprompted—it is so joyous to be remembered when i’m not around. thank you for making me feel safe. thank you for letting me stay by your side. thank you for staying by mine.

☆the passage of time is so scary to me, i think. once things are over you can never get them back—all you can do is move forward and hold the memories close to your heart. thank you for the memories you’ve given me, i will treasure them eternally. i am so happy that we get to keep moving forward together, from one year into the next.

☆to kia, diggs, casey, and everyone in sweaties gang; to wewa and rei; to lorel; to eliza and mitsu; to wiz and corbell; to alex, nash, geddon, and paperd; to worm and goldie; to candy and ashe; to haze, mono, benji, and chasm; to my partners (sasha, robin, and keith); to steel; to michael, and to collie;

i am so grateful i know you. i am so grateful we exist here, at the same time, together. thank you for everything. i love you, i love you, i love you.

@dreemurr-skelememer @digglesgiggles @megaloserrr @lollipopz-shop @popiplant @aoartmthebitxh @s3-izures @otterbup @kuvlarstuff @heartstitched @thiccsys @b0tanicalb00ba @popiplant @rushroulett3 @wewawoomp @dagwmeno @onlyplatonicirl @elizakai @swiftmitsu @wizb1z @calciumdreams @psycho-chair @nashdoesstuff @unknownarmageddon @canine-teethed-sheets @fishfrypi @candy-cryptid @narrators1and2 @hazerun3 @monolite001 @bonejello @chasmbreach @xyriscomplanata @livinganime14 @paddinglily @corvidmellow @lambradire-art @hackrusty

♡

[zu-is-here]

<– • –>

[day-dream-fever]

[pinnedmother]

As a thought request for Messmer- making him a nice, warm dinner- he's so thin, its worrying, putting g together a nice meal that's easy for him to eat, and being happy to spend the time with him if he needs to go slowly. ;w; it can be comforting food or something to help him feel better and get some decent sleep, either way, that poor noodle needs a meal. ... Also some tidbits for his snakes so they don't constantly try to steal food off his plate! :>

Ahh, thank you so much for this cute request! This one turned out to be on a longer side, I hope it's alright. And I decided to entwine in it one of the headcanons that I love for good measure (younger, pre-crusade Messmer being much healthier and not as thin as he's now). Please enjoy~

A Dish for Serpents

Wandering the specimen storage day after day, researching its vast libraries and hidden secrets… It has become one of your prominent hobbies as of late. Somehow, whenever you begin to think you’ve seen it all here, a new room or passage comes to the view, enticing you to explore it.

One of those times, you encountered a relatively small chamber full of dusty scrolls – a usual sight in this place yet no less interesting. Rummaging through each and every scroll, you hope to soak the knowledge of old, forgotten times, remembered only by the decrepit parchments.

Most of them consist reports of finished tasks, scoutings, encountered issues; provision count and casualties estimation. A boring, mostly useless read, you are not even sure why would anybody keep it after all these years. As you yawn and stretch, your hand accidentally collides with a stack of scrolls and they fall one after another, rolling away as if to hide in shame of their sheer lack of value.

Still, you dive after them, unwilling to leave a mess behind. You get most of them in no time, with the last one laying near a slim wooden plank. Treading closer you realize it is no plank, but rather a framed painting. Gracelessly shoved in the corner and facing the wall for reasons only known by somebody as old as the scroll that lies beside it.

A thick layer of dust once coating the frame’s surface now lazily billows in the air, disturbed by your attempts at turning the piece around. It’s heavier than it looks. When it’s finally facing you, a profile portrait of a man greets you. He’s wearing a somewhat open, but fancy attire accentuating the muscle bulk of the naked shoulders. The ages ate away at the canvas from the top, swallowing half of the man’s face. And yet, you would recognize these flaming locks and ever-present serpents anywhere, even if the man is depicted younger and bulkier.

Messmer does look so much… healthier here. Was it an artistic frivolity of the painter? You compare the two versions of him in your head. Now that you think about it, he does look rather malnourished, albeit you always brushed it off as his usual and normal physique. What if it’s actually not? You can’t recall ever seeing him eat, and as far as you can remember he never brings up dining in the conversation.

Do demigods even require food..?

In following days, you try to come up with the most gentle, unobtrusive way of finding out, but to no avail. So eventually, eaten by curiosity, you bluntly ask a straightforward question.

“We… dost partake of sustenance, as any other wouldst.” He answers with a quizzical look. Messmer doesn’t ask you “why”, he already guessed and doesn’t wish to delve deeper in this conversation. You can tell he’s uncomfortable by the way he’s fidgeting with the ring on his middle finger.

Still, you persist: “How much have you eaten lately?”, “Plenty.” – Messmer’s answer short and dry. You squint your eyes doubting the truth of his words. He sighs and tiredly pulls his hands down. “Very well, I discern thine intent. I...doth at times neglect my sustenance, yes. Yet I assure thee, no hunger gnaws at my being and I am brimming with vigor. What more needeth I, truly?”

You scold him – as much as you can all things considered – Messmer frowns, but doesn’t interrupt nor dismiss you, his serpents hung their heads as if guilty. He sighs again once you finish and responds in a low but gentle tone: “So it is, mine cherished, I shall strive not to forget henceforth”. He brushes your cheek with the backside of his hand before turning and leaving both you and this conversation.

You don’t believe him, not truly. You could sense he merely said what you wanted to hear to rid you of your worries. However, arguing would be pointless. The action, on the other hand, is so, so much better. You head towards the kitchen right away. If you’d lovingly prepare a dish by yourself, Messmer would never refuse it.

On your way, you already chose the perfect dish for the occasion: a mutton stew. It is one of the most common dishes of the Lands Between, nothing fancy, yet it will certainly do. Better yet, it may induce a pleasant feeling of nostalgia in Messmer, perhaps it will in turn incentivize him to eat more.

You explain to the kitchen workers what you wish to cook and how you wish to do it. They leisurely shrug and give you space and ingredients, seemingly unbothered by your request. The stew is made with lamb, carrots, onions and potatoes, seasoned with thyme, salt, and pepper. You take a large skillet and small pieces of lamb meat, hoping and praying that the sheep of the Lands of Shadow taste the same as the ones in the Lands Between. Once the seasoning of the meat is done, you place it in the black, cast iron pot, alongside a tad of flour for thickness of the broth. Then, in go the rest of the ingredients, fresh and neatly chopped. Finally, you set it all simmer for several hours: you know not to rush things as the mutton gains tenderness with time.

Just before it is done, you sprinkle in a handful of herbs. You smile in relief: the dish turned out to be quite hearty. The delicious smell of it is overbearing, making your own stomach hungrily rumble as you fill a plate with the stew. You take two smaller bowls and pick out mutton pieces from the pot, hoping that Messmer’s serpents would enjoy the snack.

You bring it all onto a wooden tray, neatly placing cutlery on a folded serviette, and carefully, almost solemnly walk towards Messmer’s chambers. He greets you as he usually does, and then his eye falls on the tray in your hands and a soft steam coming from the plates. He is at a loss of words.

“I made it myself. Would you try it for me, please?” – your smile is warm enough to melt his heart and any doubts he had. When he states that “to feast within the throne chamber is of lowly breeding” you almost pout and prepare to give him another round of scolding, but he swiftly follows it by saying: “We shalt hie unto the proper chamber, shall we not?”.

He gracefully takes the tray from your hands and in his it looks comically small. Then, true to his word, he leads you to the dining room. It’s full of dimly lit candles all around, iron spikes under the golden drapery decorating each wall. Centermost is a long sturdy table, rows of wooden chairs on each side, vacant. Messmer takes a seat at the head of the table and you pick the closest chair to his right. He stills and takes a long – too long – look at the stew served before him.

“Would you like me to feed you?” – you ask half-jokingly. He gives you a stern side-eye with an arched brow. “No.” Reaching for the spoon he looks determined, but then stills again, hovering it just above the broth. He shifts his eye to you. “Whence is thy plate, mine dearest? Dost thou intend to sup upon these small ones?” he asks pointing the spoon at the bowls.

“Oh, no, it is meat I prepared in case your serpents would like a little feast of their own”. One of the snakes tried to wrap itself around your arm, but perked up after hearing your words. If Messmer himself barely eats then you can only imagine how little food get his winged companions. Well, not anymore, not with you around. “I will only dine after you have dined. That is my ultimatum”. Your words sound steely and decisive and he looks at you with concern. You decide to soften the edges: “so, please… Eat, Messmer”.

He returns his gaze to the stew. “It doth appear and scent delightfully. Hah…” He clanks the spoon on the wooden edge. “I cannot remember the last occasion wherein a dish was wrought solely for mine own self, save for those prepared by mine servants”. You grow tired of his evasion, but then he finally digs the spoon in the meal and tastes it. Blinks, then has another spoonful. “Tis…” Messmer starts before covering his mouth with a fist. “Tis most commendable”. You don’t even try to hide your proud and happy smile, he reflects it with a small one of his own and continues dining.

The serpents, as if waiting for their master to start on the dish, get to their respectful bowls and swiftly swallow the square-shaped mutton pieces. All three soon finish, and you look satisfied, unlike Messmer. The plates were truly quite small.

“Strangely enough, I am not sated” – he says with a sense of longing. “Well,” you respond playfully, “I wished to leave you craving more”.

He smirks. “Thou always do.”

[sskk-manifesto]

Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me

[imtomiee]

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘭.

[ma1dita]

bedtime stories

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: bitch this was supposed to be a blurb. 2.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don't mind at all. You won’t admit a lot of things to Luke Castellan, but perhaps he knows something you don’t. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

warnings: none, banter and fluff on a night shift

a/n: Introducing luke castellan x trouble!reader… this is just gonna be ongoing blurbs and one shots of an idea in my head (and my latest hyperfixation) reader is essentially reformed unhinged bitch now camp mom and it’s enemies to friends to lovers. Working through reading the pjo series hehe

(posted 1/16/24, beta’ed by the lovely @ttulipwritezz @mrsaluado & @lixzey thank you bunches)

—

Dragging your feet across the dirt of the forest floor, you sigh to yourself in the quiet night air. It’s gonna be another long night and with the beep on your digital watch, you blearily peer at the time and sigh. Almost 11. Swaying slightly, you whistle a familiar tune as your nimble hands straighten out the deck chairs near the firepit, pick up trash to toss into the receptacle, and turn off the lights in the dining hall. All on the way to check Cabin 7, mind you, and the Apollo kids will undoubtedly loop you into singing a song with them before you shut the lights off and close the curtains.

Gods, your dad is definitely gonna hear about this in the morning.

It’s not like Mr. D ever really cares, or listens, more focused on droning on about missing his wife and playing pinochle even when you rattle off his…your to-do list for the week to keep Camp Half-Blood running and the younger demigods in mostly one piece. Honestly, he should be grateful he has you, and even if he is, he’ll never let you hear it.

At least you’re Chiron’s favorite.

A shadow passes your field of view, and before you can rub at your sleepy eyes, strong hands pin you to the side of a tree on the dirt path you were supposed to take across camp.

Sorry, let’s correct that—you’re one of Chiron’s favorites. The other all-star camper stares at you like you’re a three-headed dog under the beam of his flashlight.

“Just me, Castellan,” you grumble, a bit winded as you blink harshly at the bright light. “Still doing checks.”

“You’re losing your touch. You making a habit of going to bed late?” Luke smirks, and it’s actually annoying how he always looks like he knows something you don’t.

“You always pin campers to trees?”

“Just the pretty ones.” His smirk turns into a sly grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Okay loser, I’ve got cabins to check,” you drone as you push off from the tree. “6 cut into my time after staying there longer than I had to. The little ones kept asking these otherworldly philosophical questions and Annabeth just laughed at me while I tried to not pluck my eyelashes out one by one.”

Your clipboard taps lightly against your hip despite the aggression in your voice and Luke laughs much like his little sister, a burst of sunlight overflowing into the dreary and mundane. Your lips quirk upward before you can stop and remind yourself of who you’re talking to. The tall boy reaches behind him to scratch the nape of his neck and sighs, sucking at his teeth.

“You’re always doing the most, huh?”

“Who else is going to, my dad? He’s probably already out like a light.” Once, you found your dad asleep at his desk after dinner, snoring loudly instead of keeping watch. You started taking more night shifts after that.

“Well, no. You know I’m here to help you, even if you’ll never admit it.” Luke extends a hand to you so it’s easier to navigate the step back onto the dirt-trodden path, but there’s no fun in that, so you hop around him and start walking away. The sound of his footsteps fall and match yours as he follows you, both in tandem like the sound of a steady heartbeat.

“The day you catch me admitting anything about you is the day the Underworld freezes over. You should know that by now.”

“Woooooow, so I don’t get a thank you for singing the Apollo kids to sleep? You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I walked in and not you. They ended the song pretty quickly after I opened my mouth to croak out a chorus,” he says, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and nudging your side as you both laugh.

He’s a terrible singer, to be honest. Not even the Fates would’ve expected that from someone who otherwise seems like a perfect boy. Sometimes you wonder what he’s done in a past life to have it so easy–to look like he’s been chiseled by Michelangelo, have the athletic prowess of ten Spartan soldiers, and the heart of a hero only legends could get right. He’s probably the closest thing to an actual hero here at camp. You often find yourself looking at him in hopes of finding a crack in the porcelain of his perfection, but any fault of his seems to just build up his endurance in his quest for glory.

Maybe that’s why your dad doesn’t like him, his aspirations for something greater than the camp that’s kept you safe all these years, though the multiple complaints and headaches the both of you have given him as squabbling teenagers must’ve added onto that. Sometimes, though, the way he helps ease your load prods a funny feeling you do your best not to acknowledge in your stomach. Luke walks ahead shining the flashlight onto the dark path so you both don’t trip. It’s there now, at the sight of him offering an arm for you to latch onto to hop over fallen branches.

Mental note: tell the satyrs to move that in the morning.

As you hurdle over the brambles, you let go immediately after you steady your feet, moving his hand that’s holding the flashlight back towards the path with no other words. You are your father’s daughter after all, and he knows this—stubborn and your name have the same face.

Moving further towards your destination, the light reveals a teenage couple entangled within each other’s arms at the base of a tree out there for everyone to see in the moonlight.

“Jeez, guys, alright— pack it up, wrap it up! Could’ve at least found somewhere private… It’s curfew already, if I see you two again it’s a citation.”

The boy blushes and mumbles an apology to you, scurrying back to cabin 7, and you raise an eyebrow at a sheepish son of Hermes who swears they were all in their beds when he was singing to them.

“I don’t wanna go back to my cabin, all the boys are gross…” the girl whines, cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she flutters her eyelashes at you and Luke. You sigh. What has the world come to that young demigods are entrusted to the care of two people who barely consider themselves adults?

“Well, if you’re still in 11 with this one,” you simper, blatantly pointing at Luke, “I can’t blame you. He’s gross. Come by mine tomorrow and I’ll get you privacy curtains, okay? Trust me Yvonne, you don’t think boys are all that gross if you like kissing them.”

She nods, smiling charmingly at the two of you, before brushing past Luke and winking, “See you inside!”

Your head swivels to look at Luke with a coy expression, “There’s no way she’s not an Aphrodite.”

Luke huffs as he clicks his flashlight on and off. His hands are always fidgeting, always searching for something to do. He’s more like his dad than he thinks, carrying the quieter traits of quick fingers and more obvious ones like his constant search for amusement. Talking to you consistently satiates that itch.

“Aphrodite isn’t the only god that attracts attractive people, you know.”

“Oh? Do tell, because if she’s one of you, your cabin’s gonna be extra trouble,” your mouth curves into a smile, and he thinks he likes it more when you’re trying to be mean to him like this because the back and forth between you two is a comfort Luke cherishes. The words have lost their bite over the years, and there are no more cuts and bruises besides an occasional wounded ego, but it’s still entertaining, to say the least. He can’t imagine a day without hearing the teasing lilt of your voice, always easy to prod at and always wanting to have the last word.

“My dad is the god of thieves and messengers. We’re fast, smart, charming, and also good-looking. Do the math.”

“Also apparently the ones with the biggest egos, but okay.” There it is. He shoves you and you trip over your own feet falling fast.

“Hey! Jerk.”

“Definitely a daughter of Dionysus, crazy as always, and clumsy too.” Luke’s nose crinkles at the sight of your crumpled frame.

“Your hand is like the size of my face, what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

A fleeting thought in the back of your mind reasons that maybe violence is the answer, but he’s still not finished making fun of you even after he helps you up.

“And vulgar! What a shocker.”

“Ugh. You better hope your dad stops populating because if there’s any more that come here and act like you? I’m quitting.”

Luke watches you gaze at the heavens, probably looking for a fuck to give and he snickers at how easily you give in nowadays. Maybe he’s the one losing his touch—usually you’d put up more of a fight to argue.

“You wouldn’t. You love this job. Camp. S’why you’re not as fun anymore, Trouble.”

A noise of agreement leaves you as you glare at him and the stupid nickname back from when you used to wreak havoc just because you could, a direct juxtaposition to the honorary position you hold today. Finally following him up the front steps of Cabin 11, Luke opens the door and beckons you in, pushing at your hip with his knuckles.

Checking this place last has become a habit with Luke helping you out, and all the kids—Hermes’, minor gods’, and unclaimed, love it when you come to stop by before lights out. They especially loved the later bedtime, but hugs and cool stories from you were a close second.

“Everyone good and ready for bed in here? Sorry it took so long guys,” you say, visually scanning the perimeter and matching faces to bunks, seeing them all settled beneath their sheets, all except for one Luke Castellan. He’s still leaning against the doorframe, breath grazing your shoulder as he hands you a copy of his log from the other cabins he kindly relieved you from.

“What, no bedtime story this time?” He says through hooded eyes, and though he won’t admit it, he adores the sound of your voice. Luke does anything he can to get your attention to hear it more. It almost has a calming effect on him, and maybe it’s the fact that your dad can cause and cure madness, anxiety, and all alike, so something in him believes you do the same, powers or not. One look from him has you sputtering out snarky remarks; different strategies, same results—works every time.

“Castellan…” He grins at the look on your face, and tiny voices pop up from around the cabin, all asking for a bedtime story. Chris even starts a chant from his top bunk, making you want to hurl your clipboard at his head. Hypnos is calling your name at this point, and you’d do anything to crawl into your own safe haven in Cabin 12, but your heartstrings pull at the sight of the little ones pouting, hoping for you to tuck them in with a blanket of comforting words and stories of something more than what these walls meagerly provide. Camp Half-Blood only keeps them safe for so long, and not a lot of them make it out of here alive. You and Luke both know that being two of the oldest at camp, and his smug expression as he settles into his bed is confirmation that you’re about to give in.

“Fine. One quick story, and then everyone goes to sleep okay? Who wants to sit on the floor with me?”

You take your place sitting on the ground next to the foot of Luke’s bunk as he lays upside down on the twin-sized mattress, peering at you through one open eye as the younger children, mostly the unclaimed ones—drag their blankets and form a circle in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for you to start enchanting them with something to occupy their tired minds. Acting— that’s the gift your father had to give you; this time you decide to tell the story of Atalanta and the golden apples, how she ran from love and it still found her in the end, and how some stories can have good endings, despite what’s often found in Greek legend.

Multiple tired eyes droop closed as you finish the story and carry the ones who’ve fallen into Hypnos’ embrace back into their bunks, tucking them in with kisses on their foreheads and it leaves you with a warm feeling that will help you brave the chill on your walk back.

Admittedly, this next part is your favorite part on nights like these. The overflowing cabin of rowdy pranksters and babbling children is as quiet as the secret you hold close to your heart, tiptoeing back towards Luke’s space and draping his blanket over his muscular frame, exhausted from another day of trying to achieve greatness. Your hand brushes a dark curl away from his forehead, fingertips ghosting his pale skin like a kiss you’d never have the guts to give. With everything you have in you, you summon thoughts of serenity and peace, hoping whatever keeps him up at night lets him rest for even a few hours. You don’t pray often, finding yourself spiting your father instead of honoring him on most days, but in the dim light of Cabin 11, you find yourself making time to do so for a pain in your ass called Luke Castellan.

Perhaps he knows something you don’t after all, the crease in his forehead relaxing as you pull your fingertips away.

“Sweet dreams, angelface.”

Mental note: Put his ass to work tomorrow for falling asleep halfway through the story.

It’ll only give him another excuse to ask you to tell it again a few nights later. You find yourself not minding that, a sliver of a smile pulling at your face as you walk towards the door and shut the lights off, a sleeping son of Hermes illuminated by the gentle shine of the moon.

You’d never admit that, though.

—

“you steady me and stir me

all at once.”

-Tanya Wright

ask to be added to luke/general taglist!

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[galatially]

this was me writing him the whole time!

❝𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮❞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐣𝐨𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬 x 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — i don't want to just be a passing ship in the night; what's that tradition about the bridal party? the groomsman and the maid of honor always hook up?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 8.4K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, penetrative sex, anal play, strangers to lovers, wedding shenanigans, groom & maid of honor shenanigans, slow burn, slight angst (it's me lol), honorifics (pretty girl, baby, sweetheart, baby girl)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — yay for this finally seeing the light of day! and i've been to two weddings now so i can write from experience and i'm excited all over again lol. this also was a behemoth so yay for that

The warm summer air kissed along the tops of your shoulders, skirting your coils along in its stride. The low hum of smooth jazz played behind you as you took a sip of the wine you’d been nursing for the better part of an hour and let out a breath. 

You heard your name. “There you are!”

Well, shit. 

You playfully groaned and turned to face your older sister, the soon-to-be Mrs. Samuel Wilson. “Damn it! I thought this was the best hiding place!”

Nikki chuckled and bumped her shoulder against yours. “You haven’t won a game of hide and seek against me since you’ve been born. Give it up.” She tipped her chin to the half full wine glass. “Sam said he saw you knock back two flutes of champagne and then you disappeared. You good?”

“Yeah. Well, no.” You shook your head. “I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t worry,” Nikki said, looping her arm through her yours. “You’re one of the best speakers I know.”

“I guess.”

Nikki knitted her brows together. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes flitted to the lilac sky. “Do you miss them? Mom and Dad?”

“You haven’t asked about them in years.”

You raised a shoulder. “I don’t know. I was just thinking earlier that you’re getting married tomorrow and that they weren’t going to be here. You’d think that they’d remember they have children for more than two seconds, y’know? Their eldest child is getting married, for Christ’s sake!” 

Arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you backward. Though you were several inches taller than your sister, the hugs she gave dwarfed you both. You circled your arms around Nikki’s waist and buried your face in the curve of her shoulder. 

“You’re such a worrier.” Nikki pulled back and put a hand on your cheek. “You are all the family I need to be here. Fuck what anyone else has to say about it.”

“But Sam — ”

“Sam loves me, with or without parents. He knew that coming into this relationship and hasn’t left yet.” Her lips pulled into a half smile. “Besides, who else is going to deal with me post-wedding?”

You gave her a flat look. “Your husband, dumbass.”

“Nope,” Nikki sang. “My loving, favorite baby sister will be.”

“I’m your only sibling, Nik.” You moved out of your sister’s embrace, a smile working its way to your lips. “Now you’re being gooey and that’s gross. We can’t let them know that we actually like each other.”

“Shut up. You love me.” A voice called to her from behind. “I’ll be right there!” She looked back to you. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” You waved her off. “I’ll meet you inside in a bit.” 

“Okay.” Nikki pulled you in for another hug. “Be quick.” She turned and walked to her fiancé’s proffered hand. His gaze found yours for a half a second before he gave her a soft smile. 

You loved Sam; he was the safe harbor that Nikki needed after spending the better part of her teenage and young adult life taking care of you. Of course, Nikki took it all in stride and assured you that she wouldn’t have changed her life for another one. 

But when Sam came into her life, there was someone else to share her burdens with. Someone to confide in with things you couldn’t understand. She found an equal, a man ready to include her in every aspect of his life. You couldn’t have asked for a better partner for Nikki. 

But a part of you — a small, insecure part you often had to force down — felt out of place in their world. You were the kid sister, the child Nikki raised when she was barely older than a child herself. What place would you have in her life once they were married? 

Yes, you’d been on your own for quite a few years since Nikki and Sam met but you always came back home to them. That would all change after Saturday. 

No. 

You were happy, ecstatic. This weekend wasn’t about you and your woes. It was about celebrating two people you loved most in the world. 

Sam called out to you, worry in his tone. 

“Coming!” You took one more look up at the sky before making the trek back to the hotel.

“Whose side are you from?”

You turned towards the voice beside you, your glass hovering in front of your lips. “Excuse me?”

A few errant black curls poorly masked deep-set and sharp dark eyes that burned into yours. Amused by your response, his lips quirked at the ends. “Are you from the bride’s side or the groom’s?”

“Oh.” You set your glass down. “Maid of honor and sister to the bride.”

Recognition colored his features, his index finger raised to you. “Sam told me about you!” 

Your brows pulled down. “That sounds ominous.” 

“No, no! I mean, they were all good things, I swear! Just —” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m messing this up.”

“Oh, most definitely,” you said, smiling. “But keep going. I want to see where this goes.”

He smiled and leaned in close, giving you a once over. “How about this?” He held up a hand. “My name is Joaquín Torres. My friends call me Joaco. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

A corner of your mouth quirked up as you took his hand and said your name. “Nice to meet you.”

“So is this your first? Wedding, I mean.”

“It is. None of my friends are anywhere near being ready to walk the aisle,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “You?”

His smile was bright as he playfully motioned to himself. It did something to you, prickled your skin and tightened your belly. “I’m a professional groomsman.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I don’t know what it is, but whenever my friends get married, they immediately think of me. I’m pretty sure I went to, like, seven weddings last summer.”

You held up your glass to him. “Impressive. Have you ever been best man?”

Joaquín smiled, his right cheek dimpling. “Not yet.”

“Same here.” You clapped a hand to your face. “I mean, that it’s my first time being maid of honor.” 

He laughed quietly. “You’re fine.”

“Please, talk more so that I can push down my embarrassment.” 

“Okay, uh, where are you coming from?” 

“Technically, I’m visiting from Georgia, but I’m from New York. Brooklyn.”

Joaquín raised a brow. “What’s in Georgia?”

You let out a half-scoff, half-chuckle, your index finger circling the mouth of your glass. “I just got out of a shitty relationship with this guy a few months back, so I impulsively took a remote position in Atlanta.”

“Well, that’s…interesting.”

“I have the lovely tendency to fall in love recklessly and hopelessly.” You took a long sip of your drink. “Even if I know that that person doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Beats being so oblivious that you don’t even notice when people like you and you spend most of your time pining over them just for them to say that they were flirting the whole time.”

“If I were flirting with you, you’d know,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. 

Your name left his tongue in a drawl. “Are you coming onto me?”

Your face warmed. You gave a weak snort. “Yeah, right. Don’t flatter yourself.” Joaquín’s knuckles brushed up against the back of your fingers. You gripped your glass tighter. “So, I guess that means we’re aisle buddies, huh?” 

Aisle buddies? Really?

“We are. I promise not to let you fall.”

You raised a brow. “Did you just quote Twilight to me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He tipped his chin to your glass. “Rum and Coke?”

“Jack and Coke. They only had spiced rum and I’m not a fan.”

“I love a girl who loves her whiskey.” 

You laughed. “You’d have especially liked me in college, then. I was a whiskey drinking machine.” You splayed your free hand along the top of the bar. “Was even known to dance on a few tables.”

“Now that I’d love to see.”

You knocked back the rest of your drink and put a hand on Joaquín’s knee, a smile creeping onto your lips. You were no stranger to a little harmless flirting every now and again. But here, with this bright, infectious man, your words could mean something headier. Something more…suggestive. “Those days are behind me.” 

“Well now I’m sad that I didn’t get a chance to see you in your prime.”

You rested your chin on your palm, giving him a once over. “We can’t be that far apart in age, can we? You’re, like, twenty-nine at minimum.”

Joaquín leaned closer, his cologne permeating your senses. “I just turned twenty-eight.”

“So, a year older, depending on your birthday,” you quipped, “good to know I’m not the only twenty-something in the wedding party.” 

You went back and forth like this for some time. You shared childhood stories of you and Nikki and he told you stories about his and Sam’s time in university. 

“You don’t peg me as the frat guy type,” you remarked at one point. 

“I get that a lot. I was a freshman by the time Sam and Steve were chapter president and vice president, respectively. ” He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous chuckle passing his lips. “I honestly didn’t think I’d get in. I bullshitted through the rush questions and barely made it through the challenges but, somehow, I got in.”

You smiled. “And made a new friend as dorky as you are.”

Joaquín laughed. “Sam’s great. I couldn’t have asked for a better frat brother. I was really surprised when he asked me to be one of his groomsmen. I haven’t really kept in touch as well as I wanted to, but it’s been great seeing him and hanging out with him again.”

“That’s sweet. His best man, Steve, is the blond, right?”

He nodded. “They’ve been friends since they were in high school, I think. Their friend, Bucky, is also a groomsman.”

“I practically begged Nikki to have one of her friends or her sorors be her maid of honor and she looked at me like I was crazy.”

“Sam said that she basically raised you.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “He’s such a sweetheart. Our parents are narcissists, to put it plainly. They love each other fine, but they couldn’t extend that to us. At first, it was just leaving an eight year old Nikki in charge of a two year old for a couple hours every other week. Then, they wouldn’t come home some days. 

“Nikki made the best of it, though. She’d make sure that I never realized how bad things were until I was old enough to understand. By then, we were living with our grandmother and she finally got to be a teenager, you know?” You dabbed at your eyes. “She took it harder than I did. She knew our parents longer so them leaving hurt her more than it ever could me.”

“I’m sorry.” Joaquín put a hand on your elbow. “Your parents don’t deserve either one of you.”

You waved him off. “I know. I’m just glad that she gets her own happiness for once. Sam’s a good guy.” You gave a light shrug. “And he likes me for some reason which makes me question his sanity.”

“I’ve only known you for,” he glanced at his wristwatch, “a little over two hours and I like you.”

“You barely know me enough to say that you like me.”

“So let me get to know you, then. We have all weekend, don’t we?”

The DJ announced last call and you both locked gazes. Gooseflesh spread along your arms and your heart beat against your chest. Your hand was still above his knee, fingers splayed out wide. Your eyes were on him but focused on hazy thoughts in your head. What would his lips feel like if you touched the very tip of your finger against them? Your lips?

He was probably a great kisser. Dominant, needy —

“Hey.”

You blinked and snatched your hand away. “Sorry! I, uh — just a little tipsy, I guess.”

Joaquín smiled. “It’s fine. I was saying that it was getting late and I could walk you up to your room.”

“No, I’m good. The walk should sober me up some.” You stood up. “It was nice meeting you, Joaquín Torres.”

“You, too. I’ll be the best aisle buddy you’ve ever had.” 

“You’re going to hold that against me all weekend, aren’t you?”

He ran a hand through his curls. “I’m going to run it into the ground.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile creeping up on your lips, and turned on your heel to leave.

Despite being a tad bit hungover, you were still fairly refreshed.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Joaquín, your mind making him a feature in a hazy dream you half-remembered. There was a genuineness to him that you admired, a warmth that you wanted bask in for a long time. The way that he gave you his undivided attention as you rambled or even when you weren’t speaking made your heart flutter in your chest.

What was that saying about the bridal party and groomsmen at weddings? 

“Nice to see you again, aisle buddy.”

Speak of the Devil. 

Your lips quirked. “Good morning, Mr. Torres.”

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. Unlike the slicked back style from last night, the longer part of his hair was set in loose curls and fell in his eyes. The barest hint of a five o’ clock shadow lined his angular cheeks and jaw. He was so damn attractive. So unfair. 

“How did you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you.” He gave you a warm smile. “And yourself?”

You hummed as you lifted your shoulders in a shrug. “Pretty good.” You pointed a thumb over your shoulder. “Did you see the omelet bar the hotel has going?”

“I did. I got a veggie omelet and turkey bacon.” He held up his coffee mug. “Did you get any coffee? They said it’s Colombian.”

You shook your head and nodded to your teacup. “I’m weaning myself off of caffeine.” You tipped your chin towards the slip of paper beside his plate. “Is that the itinerary Nikki slid under everyone’s doors?”

“It is. On today’s agenda: ballroom dancing from noon to one; walking tour of the church from one-thirty to two-fifteen; the bridal party and the groomsmen go to their final fittings at three-thirty.” He shook his head and chuckled. “She’s efficient, your sister.”

“She’s been planning this day since she, like, was eleven.” You took a piece of turkey bacon from Joaquín’s plate. You didn’t react to the flit of his gaze as he watched you bring the food to your lips. You chewed slowly, innocently, your eyes on his. 

The faintest hint of a smirk played at his lips. “You enjoying that bacon, sweetheart?”

“Very much.” You licked your lips and threw him a bright smile. “You should ask Nikki her about her wedding binder. She started making it when she was in middle school and finished it before my junior year of high school.”

“Sounds like my cousin, Luisa.” Joaquín playfully groaned. “When she was thirteen, she and my mother spent an entire Sunday afternoon cutting out pictures from bridal and travel magazines and doodling in the margins about her perfect wedding when she got older.”

“That’s adorable.”

“So what about you? Any wedding binders stashed in an old bedroom somewhere?”

“I haven’t put much thought into getting married. I mean, I guess sometime down the line I’d like to get married but maybe not, you know? Maybe I’m not the settling down type.” You lifted a shoulder and looked to Joaquín. “What about you? Is there someone back home you’re ready to settle down with?”

“I don’t know about that but there is someone that I’d love to get to know better.”

You playfully bumped your elbow with his. “Do they have a name?”

Joaquín gave a conspiratorial grin as he raised his mug to his lips. “I’ll tell you later.”

Sam called out to you, cackling. “Lookin’ good out there!”

“Fuck off, Wilson!” 

You turned back to Joaquín, rolling your eyes as the dance instructor yelled for you to loosen up. When you stepped on his foot for the third time, you winced. “Sorry!”

He chuckled as he gave your hips a reassuring squeeze. “You’re fine, Y/N. Just breathe.”

You nodded, your eyes going back to your feet. You don’t know how many months you spent begging your sister to take you out of the dance portion of the reception. Even as children, you were so awkward that you didn’t dare try to mimic the fluid rhythms your sister and cousins displayed. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to switch partners?” You nodded towards one of your sister’s sorority sisters. “Paula is a much better dancer and she’s really funny.”

Joaquín threw his head back and laughed. “I’m sure she’s great but you’ve charmed me from the moment you very brazenly flirted with me at the bar. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

You snorted, small smile growing in the curves of your mouth. “Shut up. You flirted with me first.” 

“There’s that smile.” His fingers tapped your waist. “Follow my lead, okay? I’ve got you.”

The instructor clapped out another eight count and Joaquín swept you off of your feet, literally and figuratively. You beamed as you both glided across the floor, amazed that you hadn’t stopped the beautiful flow he was creating. 

“See? You’re a natural,” he said, pride in his tone. 

His warm gaze took the breath from your lungs so all you could do was nod. 

“All right, class!” The instructor clapped their hands. “That’s all for today! Great job!” They nodded to you and Joaquín. “Especially from you two.” 

Your face burned as your sister and her friends cheered. 

You turned to Joaquín. “You’re a saint, you know that?”

He waved off your words. “You’re not as bad as you think you are. Just got to let those nerves go.” He leaned in closer. “Did you want to grab lunch? There’s a little bistro near the hotel that I wanted to try. “

Nikki appeared suddenly, smiling at Joaquín. “You don’t mind me stealing your partner, do you?”

“Nikki — ”

“Don’t keep her away too long.” He’d said the words so casually, so easy. Like he’d been asked about the weather or what sports team he rooted for. “She still hasn’t told me more about her whiskey weekends.”

Your face warmed as your sister’s wide brown eyes found yours. “Whiskey weekends, huh?”

You ignored her, your eyes on him. “How about dinner instead? Seven okay?”

Joaquín’s cheeks dimpled as he smiled. “Seven is perfect.” He nodded to your sister. “She’s all yours, boss.”

“Bye, Joaquín.”

You grabbed Nikki’s wrist and dragged her towards the exit, her laugh echoing throughout the studio. When you reached the parking lot, you fixed her with a glare. “What the hell was that!”

She feigned surprise. “What?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” She crossed her arms. “Joaco and I are —”

“So, it’s Joaco, now?” You groaned. “C’mon, anybody would have to blind to not see the way you two look at each other! He’s hot, you’re hot. What’s the problem?”

“Not the point,” you deadpanned. “I barely know him. We probably won’t even see each other after the wedding so what’s the point starting something we won’t finish?”

“Who says you won’t finish it? You literally told me last week that you were thinking of moving back.”

“He lives in the city?”

Nikki frowned. “Did he not tell you that? He and Sam work together. He used to live in Arizona but when Sam and Steve asked if he wanted to go into business with them, he relocated.”

That changed things. It had been easier to imagine a torrid coupling that ended with you never crossing paths again, but if he’d be living in the city — working with Sam, whose company wasn’t that far from where you lived — made your belly clench. 

“Huh.”

“Is that a ‘huh, I should listen to my sister for once and ask out the hot best man’ or ‘huh, I’m about to overthink everything because now said best man is going to be close’?”

You flattened your features. “You’re so funny.”

A shit-eating grin stretched across Nikki’s face. “And brilliant and all-knowing. Don’t forget that.” Her smile fell some and she gave you a solemn look. “You know I’m just messing with you, right?”

“I know.”

“Hey.” She put a hand to your cheek. “Don’t do that.”

Your brows canted. “Do what?”

“Make that face,” she gestured with her hands, “and start thinking that something’s wrong with you.”

“Isn’t there? I was with Dante for, what, six months? He’s probably the longest relationship I’ve ever had and I hated every second of it.” You pressed the heel of your palm against your forehead. “Maybe I’m not built for forever, y’know?”

Nikki gathered you into her arms. “You’re nothing like them, do you hear me?” 

“Maybe I am, Nik. Maybe all I want is the idea of someone but not the person themselves. I don’t want to do that to Joaquín. He’s so sweet and funny and I’m just —” 

She pulled back, a smile on her lips. “You have so much love and care to give and anyone would be lucky to get to be loved by you.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m your sister, I don’t have to spare your feelings. But should anything go awry, I’ll be there to protect you and help pick up the pieces.” She held up her pinky finger. “Swear.”

You chuckled and looped your finger around hers. “Swear.”

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Nikki had insisted on taking you shopping for a new outfit and you’d decided on a beautiful, form-fitting brown satin dress that stopped just above your knees and brown chunky platform heels. You kept your makeup fairly neutral and let your curls frame your face and hang down your shoulders and back. Around your neck were a simple gold necklace stack and gold rings adorned your fingers. 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve built my ego tenfold.” Your eyes glanced around the restaurant. “You didn’t say how nice this place was. We could’ve gone somewhere cheaper.”

A wolfish grin curled at the corners of Joaquín’s mouth. “How was I supposed to impress you if I just took you out to a drive-thru?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Chivalry doesn’t die just because you took me to Wendy’s. But thank you for asking me out.”

“I’m surprised you said yes, honestly.” You scoffed. “Hand to God! You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t know about that. You and Sam must work with some pretty cool clients at the firm.”

“You’re infinitely cooler, sweetheart. Trust me.”

You pushed down the elation at hearing the pet name and set the menu down. “Tell me about yourself.”

He leaned in close. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about your family. Do you have any siblings?”

“No siblings. My dad owns a mechanic shop and my mom and aunt run a small restaurant in Phoenix. I was born in Sonoita, Arizona, this tiny place with less than a thousand people.” 

“Coming to the city must’ve been a culture shock.”

Joaquín chuckled. “Hit me like a fuckin’ brick, let me tell you.”

“So, how’d you meet back up with Sam? I remember you saying that you lost touch after college.”

“After university, I applied to, maybe, fifty positions with over a hundred different corporate firms and I was striking out left and right. Sam messaged me on Instagram a little while later asking to catch up. When he first asked me to join his firm, I tuned him down.”

“Why?”

He lifted his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Sam. He’s one of the best guys I know. But I didn’t want him to just give me a job, y’know?”

You nodded. “That’s fair but I don’t see Sam as being the type to hand out opportunities to just anyone. If he offered you a position, it’s because he believes in you.”

Joaquín smiled. “I suppose so.” 

Your server came back with your drink orders. He smiled at you, his notepad in hand. “And are we ready to order? We have a butternut squash risotto as one of our specials, if you’re interested.”

“That actually sounds delicious.” You looked to Joaquín. “Is it okay if I get that?”

“You get whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burned and you, thankfully, didn’t stumble over reciting your order. As Joaquín spoke to the server, you couldn’t help giving him a once over. He wore a navy blue dress shirt that looked painted on, the top three buttons undone. His curls were messily styled and falling in his eyes. His face was clean-shaven save for his goatee and mustache. His big hands were adorned with silver rings. Much like the first night you met, your mouth watered at the thought of those hands on you. How rough or soft they’d feel against your skin. 

His gaze found yours and he winked at you. You needed him carnally. 

“I think he likes you.”

Your brows pulled down. “What?”

“Our server. He hasn’t stopped looking at you since we got here.” He chuckled. “I can’t blame him.”

“You’re doing it again.”

He raised a brow. “Doing what?”

“Flirting with me,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “Keep doing that and I’ll get the wrong idea.”

“Maybe it’s not the wrong idea. Maybe it’s right.”

“Look, Joaquín, I don’t know if it’s because of the wedding or if this is one of those rom-com scenarios, but I like you. A lot. But I’ve never been good at relationships and I don’t want to ruin whatever this is before it even gets off the ground.”

He put a hand over one of yours. “I’m willing to go as fast or as slow as you want to.”

“And what if you get tired of waiting for me?”

“How about we just get through dinner first, then the wedding, and we’ll meet each other in the middle?” Your food was sat down in front of you but his hand never left the top of yours. “If after this weekend, you don’t want to keep in touch, I won’t be upset.” He cocked his head to the side. “Okay, I might be a little upset but I’ll respect your decision.”

You nodded, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I can do that.”

“Good.” He leaned back into his seat and picked up his fork, his eyes still on you. “Now, I have an important question to ask you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay…”

“Do you like scary movies?”

“What’re you reading?”

You ducked your head between the pages of your book. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that!” 

“Sorry. I thought you heard me coming up behind you.” Joaquín tapped the top of your bare knee with a callused finger. “Must be quite an engrossing read.”

“Something like that.” You slid your glasses to the top of your head. “What are you doing up so late?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’m a bit of an insomniac. What about you?”

“Nerves.” You held your book up. “Figured I’d finish this book I found in my room.”

“Verdict?”

“I should’ve just gotten a drink at the bar before they closed,” you said, snorting. 

“We can crack open a bottle in my room if you want.”

You raised a brow. “You raid the mini bars at hotels?”

“God, no! That’s a scam waiting to happen.” A smile grew along his lips. “I bring my own poison.”

You raised a brow. “What kind of alcohol are we talking?”

Joaquín leaned in towards you, his voice low and husky. “I’m a whiskey man.”

God, you could get lost in his eyes. Where most people would leer at you or completely ignore you, Joaquín seemed to be looking to the very soul of you. You could’ve told him anything and everything, given him whatever he wanted. 

“And I think I have snacks from my plane ride here.”

You doggy eared your book page and stood to your feet. “Lead the way.”

Joaquín looped his arm through yours and led you down the hallway towards the main lobby. You both must have looked silly to passerby: both of you in pajamas, giggling like teenagers. You caught the elevator just as two people got off and you pressed the seven button. 

Once the doors closed, a tension filled the car. Every so often, one of you would shift your weight and the backs of your hands would brush against each other, both of you muttering hushed apologies to each other. 

Hazy, heated thoughts ran rampant in your mind. Out of your peripheral, you saw Joaquín leaned up against the railing on the right side of the car. Everything about him just oozed sexy: from the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and biceps, to how perfectly his curls fell in his eyes before he pushed it back with one of his strong hands. 

His hands. God, his hands. 

You shifted your weight again, discreetly rubbing her thighs together to diffuse the tension between your legs. The elevator music suddenly seemed louder and deafening. 

“…okay?”

You blinked and turned to Joaquín. He was in front of you now, his hands reaching for you but not quite touching you. Worry painted his features.

“What?”

“We’re on our floor.” His eyes skimmed your face. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, an apologetic smile on your lips. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought.” You cleared your throat and stepped past him out of the elevator. The heat from his body laved against your back. You started towards the left before you turned to look at him over your shoulder. 

“I don’t know where your room is,” you said, your voice small.

Joaquín took one of your wrists in his hand and said, “I’ve got you.”

You decided that you loved the way Joaquín laughed. 

His eyes crinkled at the sides as he clutched his sides. Sometimes a small snort would pass his lips and it made him laugh even harder. He looked boyish, gentle. 

You were sat in the middle of his hotel room floor, the bottle of Jack Daniels between the two of you and the TV turned low in the background. You’d just told him about your first encounter with the Chuck E. Cheese mascot and how the poor then teenager got a swift kick to the groin by an eight year old. 

“God, that was great.” He dabbed at the corners of his eyes. “Do you make everyone you drink with laugh this much?”

You knocked back the last of your glass. “Not intentionally.”

“Funny and beautiful,” Joaquín said, toasting to you. “One of my favorite combinations.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“I only want one to believe me.”

“I want to try something. Is that okay?” He nodded. “I need you to say it out loud.”

“Yes.”

You crawled towards him and experimentally straddled him, your hands on his shoulders. Your heart was pounding and you were getting lightheaded but you held your resolve. “Kiss me.”

One of his hands cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in for a slow, hard kiss. His tongue laved the inside of your mouth and you moaned. Your fingers carded through his curls, pulling him closer to you. Teeth clanged against each other as lips were pulled between them, soft moans spilling into the silent void around you both. 

Joaquín pulled back. “I’ve been wanting to do that since that first night in the bar.”

You smiled. “Me, too.” Your eyes found the digital clock over his shoulder. “It’s late. I should go.”

“No,” he whined, caging you against his chest. “Stay.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “I can’t. Not tonight.”

His brown eyes brightened. “So tomorrow night?”

“Maybe. If you behave.” You disentangled yourself from his embrace and stood to your feet. “Goodnight, Mr. Torres.”

“See you in the morning.”

The morning of the wedding started slower than you thought it would have. 

You had been sitting in the makeup chair for ten minutes, waiting for Nikki to emerge from behind the folding screen set up in the middle of the room. The bridesmaids were getting ready in the suite next door and you and Nikki shared this suite. 

“You look beautiful.”

You turned and saw Nikki; her dress was beautiful: the sleeves were delicate lace and looked beautiful against her brown skin. The back of the dress plunged low and fed into the skirt that trailed behind her. She decided to keep her makeup and hair simple with a natural look and her coils swept up into a polished bun. 

You blinked furiously. “You look so beautiful but if I cry, I’m sure the makeup artist will murder me.”

Nikki chuckled. “Me? You look stunning.”

“Compared to you, I look like Ernie from Sesame Street.”

She rolled her eyes. “Take the compliment, you goof.”

You stood up from your chair and pulled her into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too.” Nikki pulled back, her eyes misty. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.” You snorted.  “I’m serious! You might not think it, but you’ve been a huge inspiration to me.”

“Bullshit.”

Nikki laughed. “Remember when we went camping that one summer? With Granny and her boyfriend, Alvin?”

You nodded. “We went hiking while they were taking a nap and got lost.” You had wanted to go find a creek that you’d passed on the way to your camping spot. 

“You were, what, nine? Ten?”

“I was eight and a half,” you said, smirking. 

“We’d gotten lost and I got so scared. I started crying and I think I said Mom’s name.”  Nikki shook her head. “I was crying and tired and the last thing I wanted was to keep getting lost.

“But then you bent down and wiped my tears away. You were barely nine years old and you made sure that I was okay before we finally found a park ranger.” She put a hand to your cheek. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

“I said that we would always have each other. No matter what.”

Nikki nodded. “I know that our childhood was less than ideal, shitty at best. I know that outside of Granny, all we had was each other and that made our relationship a little more complicated than other siblings. But there’s not a day that goes by when I’m not in total awe of you.”

“Oh, yeah, my impulsivity and lacking love life are aspirational.”

“You’re one of the strongest people  I know,” she rebutted. “As much as I raised you, you raised me, too. You taught me about passion and determination. You’ve made me think outside of the box and go after things that I want. You showed me what being a kid was and how we shouldn’t want to grow up too fast. Anything I learned about self-love and confidence, I got from you.”

You tilted your head back. “The makeup artist had me in the chair for forty minutes, Nikki! I can’t cry off all of her hard work!”

She pulled you into a hug. “No matter what happens, no matter what stages of life we’re in, it’s always going to be us against the world. Don’t ever doubt that.”

You nodded against her shoulder. “I love you, Nikki.”

“I love you, too.”

A knock came upon the door and the wedding planner, Natasha, poked her head in. “It’s time, you guys.” A warm smile crossed her lips. “You both look gorgeous, truly.”

“Thank you,” Nikki said. She squared her shoulders and looped her arm with her yours. “We’re ready.”

You were all too aware of Joaquín’s presence beside you. 

It didn’t help that he looked downright sinful in his suit. Did he paint the damn thing on or did it just fit him too well? His hair was artfully messy, curls falling in his eyes. His knuckles brushed up against yours a few times, so soft you’d thought you imagined the contact. 

“You’re killing me,” he said against your ear. 

You arched a brow. “What?”

“It’s taking all of my self-control not to whisk you off to the church basement and have my way with you.” His voice was rough. “Remind me to personally thank your sister for choosing the dress.”

A triumphant smirk colored your lips. “Noted.”

The organ kicked up and Joaquín turned to face you. “Ready?” He held out his arm.

You nodded and looped your arm through his. The ushers opened the doors and you were met with the guests and white rose covered aisle. As you waited for the second to last pair of the wedding party to head down the aisle, Joaquín leaned in towards you again, his breath laving the shell of your ear.

“I won’t let you fall.”

The couple in front of you started down the aisle and you gripped onto Joaquín’s arm tighter. Once the others were further up the aisle, he took a step forward and you followed. Every few steps, you stole glances at him, your breath catching. Once you were at the foot of the altar, he held his arm up for you to stand beside the other bridesmaids and he crossed over to the groom’s side. 

“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of this lovely couple.”

Joaquín caught your eye as the pastor continued his speech. His happiness shone so bright on his face that you couldn’t help but mirror it. You like the rest of the crowd, were brought to tears by the Sam and Nikki’s vows and cheered like sports fans when they kissed as man and wife. 

As they were about to step down from the altar, Nikki pulled you into a crushing hug. She whispered teary thank-yous and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“I love you. So much.”

You looked over your sister’s shoulder to your newly minted brother-in-law. “See you for dinner in two weeks?”

Sam smiled and took hold of your wrist. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You needed an out. Quickly. 

Your speech at the reception had most of the room in tears and a few of the wedding party members congratulated you off to the side. When it was time for the waltz, the tension between you and Joaquín was smoldering and all-consuming. All you could think about was his lips on yours. 

Before Sam and Nikki made their way to the middle of the dance floor, Joaquín whispered in your ear, “You have two hours.”

“For what?”

“Until you’re mine for the rest of the night.” The noise that left your throat was suffocated by the cheers and applauds for the bride and groom but you knew that he heard it. He moved to go sit at his table before you could get the words off of your tongue. 

You kept up appearances as well as you could but during lapses in conversation, your attention wandered to Joaquín. He teased you, subtly biting and licking his lips or giving you quick once overs as he spoke to some distant relative of yours. 

Nikki and Sam gave were basking in their marital bliss and, thankfully, didn’t notice the two of you shamelessly flirting from across the ballroom. 

The evening died down and Joaquín offered to walk you back to your room. You agreed, ignoring the teases from Nikki and Sam, and let him lead you out of the ballroom. Once the elevator doors closed, his hands were on your skin. Hot, open-mouthed kisses scorched the curve of your neck and shoulders. Hands buried themselves into your hair, holding you firm against the man in front of you. 

You didn’t remember how you’d gotten to his floor without bumping into other guests or falling over each other, but you did. The beep of Joaquín’s keycard unlocking the suite door made your heartbeat kick up. 

“That dress is sinful on you, you know that?” 

“Wait, wait.” You pulled back. “Help me out of this dress. It cost a fucking fortune.”

“My pleasure.” His fingers deftly worked at the buttons on the back of your dress. Once the garment loosened against your shoulders, his fingers hooked around the straps and slid them down slow. Soft kisses peppered along the back of your shoulders. “Such soft skin you have.” 

You leaned into his touch, a soft groan falling from your lips. Cool air gave your skin gooseflesh and you shuddered. Your dress pooled around your ankles and you were clad only in your lingerie. You smirked at his sharp inhale. To know that someone as gorgeous as Joaquín Torres was taken aback at the sight of your half-naked body emboldened you. 

You tipped your chin. “Kiss me.”

He took your face in his hands and leaned in. His lips hovered over yours, barely skimming the flesh. He was teasing you, you knew that. What you wouldn’t have given to just melt into his touch and be the first to kiss him. But you cut your gaze between his lips and his eyes, silently daring him to make the move. 

He chuckled. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”

You ran your thumb along the length of his hand. “Determined, actually.”

“You know that you could kiss me first.”

You let out a breathy sigh. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Joaquín smirked and pressed a bruising kiss to your lips. His tongue laved across the top of yours and his moans vibrated through you. His hands brought your face closer and deepened the kiss. “Jesus, doll, you taste like heaven.”

You rested your forehead against his to catch your breath. You tried to think of something to say, anything to say, but your mind was fogged from kissing him. 

He moved you towards the bed and laid you down, kneeling in between your thighs. “I want to taste you.”

You shivered at his words. “Do you?”

One of Joaquín’s hands skimmed a languid trail between the valley of your breasts. His fingertips danced a trail along the soft expanse of your torso, earning him soft gasps and caught sighs. When his fingertips hovered above the waistband of your underwear, his brown eyes met yours again. “Or perhaps I should tease you? Make you beg?”

“I don’t beg.” Your voice was breathy, weak, as you spoke. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” He was mocking you, teasing just as you’d done to him moments earlier. His fingers dipped below the elastic, tip-toeing across the top of your pubic mound. Your hips bucked and his lips split into a cocky grin. 

“My, my, aren’t we eager?” The very tip of his middle finger hovered above your clitoral hood, tracing a half-circle along the skin. Joaquín looped an arm around your waist to keep you balanced and made slow, teasing circles against your clit. 

You screwed your eyes shut and sank your teeth into your bottom lip. A moan threatened to pass your lips but you stifled it. Your fists balled against Joaquín’s shoulders as ripples of pleasure surged through you. “Joaco.” 

“I can get used to you calling me that.” His lips trailed along the curve of your jaw. “I bet you’re all wet for me, aren’t you?” Two fingers entered your sex and made a come hither motion. A shock of pleasure rocked you and you let out a moan. “Love how wet you are for me.”

You tried to speak his name but garbled moans left your tongue instead. A warm slickness played at your clit and you let out a cry. 

“You taste so sweet, darlin’,” he said against you. “Bet I can make you come all over my tongue.” 

Your back arched off the bed and your mouth hung open in wild pleasure as Joaquín ate your pussy like it was his favorite meal. Your toes curled against his back and your thighs all but crushed him against you. 

“Fuck, Joaquín, don’t stop!”

He moaned against your sex, the sound of your wetness and his tongue lapping bounced off of the walls. He lifted up and smiled a devilish smile at you. “Such a good girl getting wet for me like this. Making such a pretty mess.” He nipped at your inner thigh and kissed the bruises he left behind. His thick fingers gathered some of your juices and traveled down to play at your asshole. He groaned at how pretty and puckered it was. “Such a pretty little hole.”

One of his digits pushed against the puckered hole and your back arched up again and a throaty moan left your mouth. 

“Fuck!”

“You like that, darlin’? Like when I play with your ass?” He worked his finger further into you and another cry broke from your lips. “Your pretty pussy is weeping. Do you play with your asshole when you’re alone, baby girl?” He kissed up your body, lips latching onto one of your pert nipples. 

You fisted the sheets and bucked your hips as Joaquín stretched and finger fucked your ass. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes and broken cries of his name filled the room. For a second, you remembered you were in a hotel room and that whoever was in the rooms opposite them could hear you getting absolutely destroyed.

Hope they’re enjoying the show, then.

Your belly tightened and your legs shook as your orgasm rushed through you. A broken sob ripped through you and you flattened on the bed, shivering and sweat-slicked. Joaquín’s fingers left your ass and he slanted his mouth over yours.

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He pushed away tendrils of curls that were stuck to your forehead. “How did I get so lucky to find you?”

You gave a weak chuckle. “You’re one of my brother-in-law’s best friends. The cosmos saw something in you. Take your pick.” You heard the clicking of his belt buckle and your mouth watered. 

“Think you can play a little longer, baby?” He lined himself up with your pussy. “Because I’ve been waiting to feel you around my cock for the past twenty-something hours.”

A wicked glint flashed in your brown eyes. “What are you waiting for, then, Torres?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He lined the head of his cock with your pussy and sank deep inside of you. You threw your head back in pleasure as your walls fluttered around him. 

“You’re real fuckin’ tight, honey. Feels so good.”

Your nails bit into his shoulders as you bucked your hips into his. “Fuck me, Joaco.” 

His hips moved against yours slow at first. He circled his hips and thrusted in and out of you at a torturous pace. He snickered at your needy whines and mewls. “Such a greedy pussy you have.” His hips snapped against yours and you gasped. “Makes me think nobody treats your pretty pussy like they should. Is that what it is, baby?”

Your head lolled from side to side and your words faded into moans. Then, his hips rutted into you at a brutal pace and a swelling orgasm built in your belly. Spots darkened your sight and one of your hands fisted his hair. “I’m going to cum!”

Joaquín took his lips from the hollow of your neck. “I’m almost there, baby, hold on.” He pressed his forehead against yours and rutted harder into you. When his thrusts got sloppier, he let out a groan and you felt his cock twitch inside of you as you chased after your own climax. 

He collapsed on top of you, hard pants mixing with soft chuckles. He lifted his head and pressed a kiss to the apex of your collarbones. “Nikki said something about you moving back to the city.”

You hummed. “She told me that you were planning to stay in the city.” 

“I technically moved back a few weeks ago. I haven’t told Sam or Steve yet.”

You brushed a few curls from his sweat-damp forehead. “I might need a place to crash for a few days until my stuff arrives.”

One of his hands gripped your ass, softly kneading the skin. “Or you could stay for as long as you want and we could see where this goes.” 

“You’re sure?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ve never been more sure about anything else. I meant it when I said that I think you’re incredible. If I can keep you with me for as long as I can, I will.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

“Seriously?” He cupped your cheek, your name a light chuckle on his tongue. “You want to try with me?”

As you opened your mouth to answer, a knock came upon the door. Joaquín groaned and rested his head against your shoulder. “It’s probably a noise complaint.”

“You go answer, then. It was mostly you.” You smacked him in the face with a pillow. “Fine, fine! I’m getting up!” You let out a low whistle as he padded across the room, completely naked, and went to open the door. You couldn’t hear who the other voice was but you figured it wasn’t serious from Joaquín’s belly laugh. 

“Who is it?”

He shut the door and came back into view, your sister’s bouquet in his left hand. “I don’t know if I should laugh or be offended.”

You rolled your eyes. “They think they’re so funny.”

“I don’t know, baby, maybe we’ll be next.” Joaquín set the bouquet on the nightstand and climbed back into bed, pulling you against him. “I think we’d make a great married couple.”

“Let’s get through me staying with you before we jump straight to marriage, Casanova.”

“You didn’t say no.”

You smiled. “We’ll discuss it.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — not gon' hold y'all, this made me fall in love with joaco something fucking fierce

[whateverisbeautiful]

Now we need the MP of every MP pinned. But fr thank you for this!! It give us richonners life.

Thank you! 😊💗 Making this the pinned MP of every MP 👌🏽

Richonne in Retrospect (S3 - S6)

Reveling in Richonne (S3 - S7)

Reveling in Richonne (S8-S11)

Richonne Top 30

Reveling in Richonne (TOWL S1)

[naelmasn]

"Midnight Waltz"