#which puts me in a really awkward and uncomfortable position

[not-poignant]

PSA

After a miserable few days, which always happens when I get anons that share a facecast or facecasts with me, I'll no longer be responding to any anon facecasts because it's not really about me and there's no real safe way to respond for me and there never has been.

I love when y'all facecast characters and enjoy doing that, it's a type of fandom engagement I hate doing personally and I don't enjoy being asked to engage with, and have said increasingly over the years, but I will always 100% support you doing it for yourself, and think it's great that others get enjoyment out of this.

But I don't. And I'm no longer going to host that part of fandom here.

I've deleted all previous ask responses on facecasting and am going to leave this one up in the tags as my reference in the future.

[wraithdance]

Good Boy [part 1/2]

CW: Mentions of canon childhood trauma & abuse, loss of virginity (Simon), using sex as self harm, my man being traumatized and bitch-less, awkwardness, eventual reader mention, lots of internal dialogue I’m setting sumthn up for the next part

Simon is aware he wasn’t pretty or particularly personable. He didn’t ever really need to be.

Even before the scars and the night terrors that kept him up as he meticulously arranged and dismantled his service pistol, he’d never been one to get the girl.

The years spent supporting his mother and saving Tommy’s ass, while also surviving his father’s blows, took up what was a joke of a childhood. There were no movie dates or pretty birds under his arm or texting his phone (not like he had one). Not even the time to wank to whatever model graced the cover of the cheap magazines his mother hid.

He’d lost his virginity in the most clinical way in the back of the butcher shop he’d worked as a teenager. Couldn’t remember the face of the bold older girl that offered to suck his cock when he went on break. Simon had been befuddled that she’d wanted to repay him with a quickie because he’d discounted the cut of meat she’d been sent to pick up for her mother. He’d accepted nonetheless and followed as she lead him to the back of the alley between the shop and laundromat.

Simon had been stiff, unable to enjoy the feeling of her hot, pink glossed mouth taking his prick as far as she could manage. He’d been too preoccupied with the fear of being caught by his boss and the uncomfortable feel of her teeth snagging the sensitive skin of his shaft. He remembered her offense when she’d asked him if she was making him feel good and he’d said no.

At 18 he was still unaccustomed to the concept of lying to spare another’s feelings.

Expecting her to give up he’d tried to thank her (which offended her more) and stuff his cock back into his work jeans. Instead she’d rolled her eyes and lifted her skirt, positioning herself against the brick wall. She’s all but snapped at him to hurry the fuck up and put his cock inside her.

His hands had trembled as he worked himself into her cunt. She’d hissed around the gum in her mouth when he’d pressed the head of his cock past her slick hole, barking that he was too big and to go slow. He tried, the restraint it took to not chance her ire and rut into her like a dog made his teeth crack with how hard he clenched his jaw. She’d yowled like the female cat that made home behind the trash can when it was in heat. He’d nearly slipped out of her afraid he’d hurt her. She’d called him a fucking idiot and demanded he fucked her until she said stopped. So he did.

The force of his orgasm nearly made him black out, through the muffled roar of his blood in his ears, he’d been able to heed her warning to pull out.

He’d been apologetic about the cum that dripped on her open toed shoes. She’d ignored him and scrapped what she could off with a business card he kept in his apron, while he buckled his pants. She’d come inside to grab her parcel of meat and ignored him. His boss had come from the back office and took one look at the retreating girl before shaking his head at Simon.

When he’d joined the military he’d lost what was left of his naivety. There was no room for apologies and mincing words when seeing the life drain from your enemies eyes. For the first time in his life his roughness and straight speech was an asset.

Tactical. Strategic.

Those were the kind of things they said in praise as they pat him on the back.

He’d embraced it, embraced the part of him that would always be his father’s son and he raised hell in honor of his majesty.

He couldn’t look himself in the eyes in the mirror much less imagine the kind of life MacTavish went on about. Always talking about a house in the highlands and a pregnant wife with a barn full of children.

‘Ye can’t tell me ya don’t want the same L.T’

Johnny would say in the dead of night. Always while ‘keeping company’ at Simon’s shoulder while he watched the world through his sniper. Simon’s hands had always sweat beneath his gloves at the talks of imagined lives outside of the shithole safe house they were holed up in. Sometimes he’d grunt noncommittally and Johnny would take the hint and entertain himself with something else. Other times it took a gruff

‘Shut the fuck up MacTavish’

Johnny would be blissfully quiet awhile and the part of Simon that was still his mother’s son would rear his head long enough to transmute a sense of guilt. It was always short lived because Johnny was persistent, forgiving.

He’d bounce back after some time and laugh at whatever joke Simon had in his arsenal in lieu of an apology.

‘It’s alright L.T we’ll find ye a nice Lass to settle down with’ MacTavish’s eyes would sparkle in mischief. Convinced that was the solution to every problem.

Simon thinks about it often when in the bare apartment he calls home when forced on leave. On nights he can’t think of anything but of the echoes of blood and blows across his body, he thinks of what it would be like to have something to come home to. He never gets too far because there’s no frame of reference to use. Just a nameless girl who’d taken his cock in an alley way.

Simon learned that the more he lost himself to the entity that was Ghost the more women gave him the time of day. It was like the self loathing and dark acerbic energy that kept him tethered to the living was a beacon.

The first time it happened he’d made a mousy girl cry. She’d been dared by her friends to approach him at a bar. He’d felt her eyes on him throughout the night, choosing to ignore her. The mask protected him from the itch that came with being perceived in civilian life. He’d been somewhat prepared for her to get the courage to come up to him, having learned that some people were stupid enough to go against their predator/prey instincts. He hadn’t been prepared for the soft hand that trailed across his back to get his attention.

He’d humiliated her. Towered over her and cut her down with words until dark spots danced at the corner of his visions, until she’d burst into sobs. He’d thrown down cash to cover his tab and left. The echoes of her friends calling him a fucking bastard on his heels.

Much like the first time he’d had sex he responded better to blatant requests to be fucked. The requests nearly always when out at drinks with his team. He’d gotten good at recognizing the telltale signs of desperate interest. The glance over of his mates, the dilated pupils as they took in his mask and covered form. On the days he couldn’t be arsed he ignored them. When he needed to feel something other than nothingness he’d meet their eyes. Signal with his head to meet him in the dingy hallway or the back alley.

Always the same as the first time. Spreading their legs against the brick, rutting deep and wasting his spend on the asphalt. With experience he’d learned to grip their necks and maneuver their bodies just so. Overtaking their senses and giving them the fantasy of being just a cunt for him to fuck. In the end he always felt like the one being used.

Sometimes they wanted more from him. A kiss, a call, a second time. He’d occasionally entertained it, the prickling desire to have that dream Johnny painted. It always ended the same. His career kept him away, he was too closed off, the novelty of fucking the guy who scared their friends wore off. And he was left feeling more like a shell.

He stopped recognizing himself in the mirror after a while. A stranger stared back at him with lifeless eyes and a body that belonged to someone else.

The night he met you he’d been unprepared. You’d stared at him like the others. Flickering eyes back and forth taking him in with interest. Gaz and Johnny had noticed and made jokes that set his teeth on edge. He’d told them to piss off.

He caught you staring at him once more, holding your gaze with lidded eyes. You didn’t look away or act coy and embarrassed.

Good.

Subtly he motioned to the bars entrance. You frowned.

He watched you stand up and collect your bags and he took down the rest of his tepid beer. Gaz and Johnny whistled loud and obnoxiously, until Price rallied them in with a half hearted threat.

Simon is making his way through the crowded pub keeping track of your movements. He’s got a cigarette out and lit when you cautiously tip toe out into the night.

He’s watching your nervous shuffling from behind the tendrils of smoke. You seem to make up your mind about something because your shoulders set apart and you straighten your back. Brave little thing.

“Can you model for me-“

“Lift your skirt-”

Your eyes are peeled wide in disbelief. He’s honestly just as confused but hides it with a flick of the cigarette ash.

“Wot?”

“Uh? I asked if you could model for me,” you’re not quite fidgeting but you aren’t really focusing on him. Your eyes are looking just past his shoulder in a facsimile of eye contact. Something about it bothers him.

He flicks the half spent cigarette to the concrete and pulls away from the wall. You don’t step back from his size or flutter your eyes like a pretty bird. You’re taking him in like you’re categorizing him.

“Wots this about modeling? I thought you followed me out to ask for my cock.”

Your nose wrinkles at the crassness.

“No sorry, I thought you just wanted to talk in a quieter area,” you look around at the alleyway for a spell before facing him. “Honestly it seems a bit unsanitary to have sex out here don’t you think?”

He snorts. He’d never heard any objections before. He’d also never had sex in a bed either though.

Simon had long since learned he was good enough to fuck in alleys or cars between shifts. Sometimes couches if he made it across the threshold. Never had any qualms around it until you mentioned it.

It’s a grating thought he doesn’t want to dwell on. He’s turning to leave when you step in front of him with arms raised.

“Wait!” He is glowering down at you unimpressed.

“I’m sorry I really did want to ask you to model for me!” You’re panicking and inching closer to the bar door as if hoping to block his exit with your body. A laughable thought. You must realize it too because your hands drop listlessly to your side.

“Listen, I’m an author and I need someone to pose for a cover mock up for a series.” He scoffs.

“And you thought I’d be a fit?”

“Well yeah!” Your eyes light up in excitement and you ramble out a stream of things he doesn’t quite catch. His focus on the curve of your cheeks and the sense of life you emit. His cock is half chubbed in his pants watching you.

After awhile your rambles trail off and you stare at each other. Realizing he had no plans to respond you sigh in defeat.

“Look take my card,” you’re reaching into your pocket for a wrinkly square. “I’m serious I really do think you’d be a great model for my series and I’d really like to treat you to coffee if you’re willing to hear me out.”

Simon isn’t sure why he takes the card, but he does. He’s looking at the hand doodled picture of a dog and the chicken scrawl beneath the text stating ‘Expert Dog Walker’. He gives you a flat look that causes you to grimace.

“It’s my day job, you know what they say about starving artists and all.” You joke.

He doesn’t laugh.

He instead pockets the thin square and steps around you. You’re on his heels following him inside. He gives you a look as a sign of dismissal that you scoff at but you take the hint.

He watches you leave from the corner of his eye while he settles down at the table with his team.

‘You’re back a little early mate.” Gaz prods.

“The lass dinnae look too happy with your performance LT what did ye do? Do ye need me to tell you how to put it in.” Soap claps a hand over Simon’s shoulder that he shoves off.

Price observes him quietly with arms crossed. Simon doesn’t tell them about your odd little request at all.

He fingers the card in his pocket throughout the night. He looks at your scrawled name as he washes the eye black from his face, your card tucked into the mirror.

He has the number memorized by the time he’s done.

[purplegrapevines]

Good Girl

Pairing: dom!Vi x fem!cellmate!sub!reader

Content: edging, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, praise, degradation, size kink, manhandling, spanking, hair pulling, thigh riding, grinding, fingering, face grabbing, humiliation, oral, overstimulation

Word count: 3.5k

You don’t know how you ended up here. One minute, you’re dealing some shimmer like you always do, and the next, you’re here in these cold, metal handcuffs.

The guard grabs your shoulder to keep you walking, and you push back against his hand, only wanting to defy his authority. But in your situation and position, you really had no choice but to obey.

The prison stunk and the gawking eyes of the other prisoners made you uncomfortable as you shuffled past them. 

“There’s no empty cells left,” one guard tells the other behind you.

“Just throw her in with the pink bitch,” the other responds, and your head turns in confusion. You’re going to have a cellmate? A “pink bitch?”

“Who?” you ask them, but they ignore you as they drag you across a few more cells. You’re finally stopped in front of one, and you tilt your head to sneak a glance at the inmate inside of it. Will she be your cellmate?

You’re startled by a thump followed by a crack sound, which you notice is your soon-to-be cellmate’s fist pounding into the stone wall. 

You could see the bulging muscles of her broad shoulders, the sweat dripping down between the creases. Tattoos adorned her upper back and followed all the way down to her forearms. Who is she?

You’re so mesmerized by watching her that you almost forget that you’re here to be jailed. With… her.

As the gate to the cell opens up, the shadows of the bars cross her back until you can see her better light. 

Suddenly, your handcuffs are tugged off by the guards, and you’re shoved in the cell harshly. You struggle to keep your balance as you hear the cell gate slam shut behind you.

You start to soak in that you’re now stuck in jail until your cellmate turns around and looks at you. Beads of sweat slid down her face, and she catches her breath.

“Who the hell are you?” she asks, scrunching her scarred eyebrow. Her short, pink hair covers her eye. That explains the “pink bitch.”

“I’m… your cellmate,” you respond, intimidated by her presence.

“Yeah, I got that. I meant your name,” she corrects.

“O-oh…” you blush and look embarrassed as you tell her your name, and you then ask for hers.

“Vi,” she responds. 

“Like your cheek,” you blurt, and your blush deepens when Vi looks you in the eyes for a couple seconds.

“Yeah. Like my cheek,” Vi says. Silence fills the air for a couple seconds, and you both stand in awkwardness. Thankfully, Vi breaks it.

“So, tell me, what’s a pretty thing like you doing down here?” Your eyes widen at her unexpected statement, and your face becomes hot again.

“W-what?”

“What? Look at you, you’re so small and sweet-lookin’. Are you sure they got the right person?” Vi jokes. You pout, which makes Vi smile.

“Yeah they got the right person,” you confirm, looking away from her and leaning against the wall. Vi sits on the floor near the other side of the cell.

“What did you do then?” Vi asks as she tilts her head, looking genuinely curious.

“Just some minor shit…” you respond. It was totally a lie; dealing shimmer is the worst business you could put yourself in, especially because of shimmer’s dangerous properties and high demand. But the money was too good for you to resist.

“So, ‘minor shit’ is how a cute girl like you ended up in a cell with me, huh?” Vi says. 

“Stop it. I’m not cute,” you say with a frown. 

Your eyebrows raise as Vi stands up, walking over to you with her hands in her pockets. She stands in front of you, face to face. She’s tall, at least three inches taller than you.

“You are,” she says, “look at you. You don’t look like you belong in a prison like this. You look like a pretty, little Piltie, looking so fragile…” Vi says, looking down slightly, “so delicate.” 

You know you don’t look like the average Zaunite. You’re too feminine and sweet-looking compared to the rest of them. Usually, you hate being called small and delicate, but with Vi, you don’t seem to mind. In fact, it’s making your face hot and your palms sweaty, and you can’t understand why.

“Vi…” you start, not knowing how to finish.

“Hm?” Vi asks as she starts to back away, leaving your heart racing with your back against the wall. 

“Nothing…” you say. You brush the dust off your pants and sit on the tiny bed awkwardly. Vi sits back down on the floor as she drags her foot across the ground. You take a small glance at her, and you notice the small smirk on her face. What a tease.

“I’m bored,” Vi says, tossing a small pebble out the bars of the cell. You nod, not knowing how to respond.

“How long have you been here?” you ask her.

“A couple years, I think. At some point, I stopped keeping track,” Vi answers.

“Oh… so you must get bored a lot, then. Have you just been by yourself the entire time?”

“Yeah… been just me,” Vi says, looking at the ground. You assume that she’s extremely touch-starved after spending years in solitary.

“So, then, what do you do when you’re bored?

Vi shrugs, “Usually, I just work out. Or punch the walls, you know?” Vi laughs, pointing at the multiple cracks along the stone. You laugh, too.

“So… how did you get those tattoos?” you ask.

“Oh, I there’s a guy that can do ‘em for you. Why? You interested?” Vi asks, looking up at you. 

You shake your head, “No, I was just wondering.”

“Oh? You wanna see?” Vi asks.

“I can see them.”

“No. I mean all of them.”

Blush starts to return to your features, “I-it’s alright if you don’t want to-“

“It’s okay,” Vi interrupts, “come closer.” Slightly hesitantly, you step towards her. She stands and begins to reach for the hem of her shirt. You watch patiently.

Slowly, she pulls it off to reveal her hard, toned abs. You have to stop yourself from gawking.

“Like what you see?” Vi asks. Not knowing how to respond, you simply shrug. But your red cheeks answer her question. Vi smiles smugly as she turns around to show off her muscular back.

Gears and wheels follow the back of her arms to her shoulders, and then extend to the rest of her upper back. Whiffs of smoke intertwine with the gears and everything just comes together perfectly.

“Vi… it’s really nice,” you compliment. 

“Yeah?” Vi says. Without thinking, you reach out to touch it. Vi jerks flinches lightly with the unexpected contact, but she doesn’t interrupt your exploration.

After a couple seconds or your hand running over the might of her back, you realize what you’re doing. You quickly pull your hand away.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know why I-”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” Vi assures as she turns around to face you. You stop your eyes from looking down at her muscular stomach and instead force yourself to look into her gray eyes.

“You’re so cute,” Vi starts, “especially when you’re nervous and blushing like that.”

“I’m not…” you argue, but Vi shushes you and drags her thumb along your bottom lip. Your breath hitches.

“You are. You’re so cute, I just wanna ruin you until tears are streaming down that pretty face of yours,” Vi says as she inches her face closer to yours. Your eyes widen at the bluntness of her statement.

“Vi… you can’t just say stuff like that. What if the guards catch us?”

“They won’t. The guards are sleeping right now. We’ll be fine,” Vi assures as you feel her breath on your lips. You decide to trust her as you let your lips brush her gently.

Vi grabs your chin and pulls your face towards hers, kissing you passionately. You give up your control and let her tongue explore your mouth. Vi pushes you against the wall and continues to make out with you.

She grab the bottom of your shirt and pulls it over your head, leaving you in your bra. You blush and make an attempt to cover yourself, but Vi holds both your wrists with one hand.

“No. I wanna see it,” she says. She lowers her head to your neck and starts to bite marks into it. She lets go of your wrists, and uses one hand to hold your chin to the side and the other to drag along your chest.

You can’t help but moan when she pulls your bra down to your waist and kisses your breasts. Her mouth wraps around your nipple as you grab her pink hair. Vi doesn’t seem to mind it.

Vi places her knee between your legs and you absentmindedly begin to grind against it. Vi brings it upward and you groan. The guards may not be able to hear you right now, but the other prisoners sure can.

“Shh…” Vi says, “You don’t want everyone to hear you, right? To hear how much of a slut you are just from grinding against my thigh?” Her words surprisingly make you moan. You shake your head, but you wouldn’t really mind it if they did.

She removes her leg from in between yours and you whine in frustration. Before you could protest, Vi grabs your body and throws you over her shoulder like you’re as light as a feather. It turns you on.

She walks over to the small bed without any struggle, and she tosses you onto it. You look up at her with those adorable, innocent eyes, and it drives her feral. She gets on top of you and makes out with you again, but this time it was much less gentle. Your hands tangle through her hair again, and you grab it as if she’s your only lifeline.

Vi’s lips travel down your neck, down your chest, and she starts kissing down your stomach. She finally unclips your bra, and then she surprises you when she licks a stripe all the way from your nipple to your neck.

Vi’s hand starts to reach for the hem of your pants. She sits on her knees between your legs to unbutton them. She takes your ankles and brings them up, allowing her to yank your shoes and pants off. You blush at being exposed like that, and your position with your legs in the air. You try to bend your knees to cover yourself, but Vi holds you still. Even though you’re still wearing your underwear, this feels very embarrassing.

“Vi…” you whine, but Vi pays no attention to it. Instead, she pushes your knees back so that they almost reach your head. You turn away in an attempt to hide your face from her. She doesn’t need to see your red face; this is humiliating enough as it already is. 

“Aw, baby, are you shy?” Vi coos, “Hold your knees for me, just like that.” Despite the embarrassment, you obey. And you can’t say you don’t like it.

“Can I take this off?” Vi asks, gesturing to your underwear. You nod.

Vi pulls off your underwear, and she brings it to your knees. You squirm with the thought of how you must look right now. Legs up, knees apart, so fucking exposed, and it’s all for her.

“Aw, look how wet you are. You’re fucking soaked,” Vi teases. You whimper.

Without any warning, Vi pushes her middle finger all the way in and without any struggle. You moan.

Vi begins to slide another one in. This time, you can feel the slight sting from the stretch, but you like it. You subconsciously grind against her hand to push Vi’s fingers in deeper, and Vi chuckles.

“Fuck, you’re so needy, aren’t you? Good girl.” You shamelessly grind against her fingers as your eyes shut and you grip the sheets. 

Vi flips then you two around, so she’s lying on the bed and you’re on top of her, your knees on either side of her waist. Her fingers are still in you.

“C’mon. Ride me,” Vi whispers as she pushes your head down to rest on her shoulder.

You moan at her words and start moving your hips again. You adjust yourself to get her fingers to just touch that one spot… but you can’t. You look down at her and see her smug smile. You know she’s avoiding that spot on purpose.

“Vi, fuck, c’mon,” you whine, still trying stimulate your sweet spot.

“What’s the magic word?” she teases, like you’re a child.

“Oh, fuck, please? Please, Vi, please please please…” you moan into her neck. 

Vi suddenly curls her fingers in you. She hits the spot perfectly. She continuously rubbed it, giving you no break or chance to breathe.

“Oh my god… Vi… it feels so fucking good, please don’t stop!” You try to match her rhythm, but it was too fast for you. You do the best you can. When her other hand reaches down to rub your clit, you can’t hold your sounds back anymore. Fuck it if the other prisoners hear you. They can hear how good Vi is making you feel…

“Vi- I’m cumming,” you tell her, mouth agape and expression blissed out.

Suddenly, Vi pulls her fingers out of you takes her other hand away from your clit. 

“No, no no no no…” you cry, as you attempt to grind against her, not wanting to lose your high. A tear of frustration falls down your cheek and Vi loves it.

“Aw, did my girl wanna cum?” You sniffle and nod.

“Please, please let me. I can’t take it,” you beg.

“But you look so adorable like this, crying into my neck,” Vi says, tilting your head up so she can wipe your tears away.

“Please…” you beg with desperation. Vi moves your body so that your knees are on either side of her right thigh.

“C’mon. Ride me properly, then,” she says. You whimper and begin moving your hips. The rough fabric of her pants against your swollen clit feels so good, and you try to match the pace Vi was going at earlier, but you can’t do it.

You cry out in annoyance, and you look up at Vi with those wet eyelashes and swollen lips.

“Vi, please, help me?” you ask. Vi shakes her head.

“You can do it. C’mon. Ride my thigh like the slut you are,” Vi says, grabbing your hair and pulling it back. You place your hands on her biceps and use it as leverage.

With each motion of your hips, Vi brings her leg up slightly to help you. Her hand is still in your hair, yanking and tugging on it whenever she feels like it. It hurts your scalp, but it feels so good.

“H-help…” you moan out. And, this time, Vi complies. She reaches down and rubs your clit while you ride her.

“Don’t cum without my permission,” Vi warns, and you nod in response.

In just a minute or two, you could feel your orgasm creep into your body again.

“Vi, gotta cum, please?” you ask her nicely. 

“No,” Vi says. Plain and simple. You cry out in need as you continue riding her and Vi keeps rubbing your clit.

“Why?” you whine. Tears fall down your face as you struggle to hold it, and Vi smiles at the sight.

“Because I said so. Be a good girl for me,” Vi says. You want to, you really do. But you just can’t hold it anymore. 

Just as you’re about to cum, Vi pulls her hand away and places her hands on your hips to halt their movement. You try to fight against her, but she’s too strong. No no no no…

You start to actually cry this time, not just the soft mewling like before. Vi yanks your hair, making you look upwards.

“Were you just about to cum? Without my permission? You weren’t planning on disobeying me, were you?” Vi says, looking at you angrily.

“‘M sorry, so sorry,” you whimper. 

“Bad girl. Told you to hold it, and you didn’t even listen,” Vi hisses. You start to cry more.

“I really tried! I’m really sorry, I did listen!” you try to convince.

“Oh, really? So if I didn’t pull my hand away, you wouldn’t have cum?” Vi asks. You sniffle and stay silent which answered her question. Vi sighs.

“I’m so sorry, Vi, please,” you say in desperation. Vi grabs your face harshly and squishes your cheeks together. You try to apologize again, but it comes out in gibberish.

“Fucking slut can’t listen to fucking instructions,” Vi says. Her other hand reaches down to slap your ass. You moan in both pain and pleasure.

“M-more…” you moan, not even realizing what you said until Vi lets go of your face raises an eyebrow.

“Oh? You want more?” she says with a smirk. She brings her hand down on your ass over and over again, causing you grab onto her shoulders. You moan her name as more tears drip down your face.

“Such a dumb slut. Crying from a few spanks. But, fuck, you look so fucking pretty like this,” Vi whispers into your ear. She continues with her hard hits, making you squirm on top of her. She holds you down easily with one arm.

She doesn’t stop until red hot handprints litter your ass.

“You look so beautiful right now…” Vi tell you.

You sniffle, “Please, wanna cum now, I can’t take this anymore!”

“Aw, poor baby,” Vi says, stroking your hair, “Does it hurt?”

“Yes, it hurts, Vi. Please? Please help me?” you ask her nicely.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” Vi says as she pushes you onto the bed and gets on top of you.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” she says. You obey. Vi kisses down your body until she reaches your dripping pussy. She gently places a peck on your clit, causing you to back your hips up against her face. Vi laughs at your desperation.

Finally, she licks a stripe up your slit and circles her tongue around your clit.

“Oh, fuck, Vi, it’s so good,” you moan. 

Vi eats you out like there’s no tomorrow. Her tongue fucks deep into you and her nose nudges against your swollen clit.

“You taste so fucking sweet. I love it,” she whispers into your pussy. The slight vibration from her talking makes you go feral.

From all the edging you experienced prior, it doesn’t take long for you to reach the edge. Her lips sucking your clit and her strong hands holding your thighs was too much for you to handle.

“Vi, I need to cum, please, can I cum?” you whimper. For a second, you’re worried she’ll deny you again. But instead, she hums and nods between your legs.

You let go with a scream. This is the most intense orgasm you've ever had. You see stars and your legs shake around Vi’s head. 

Vi doesn’t stop. She continues lapping up your juices as they drip down her chin. You make an attempt to push her head away, the sensitivity being too much, but she stays put until she gets every last drop.

You finally get a chance to breathe when she pulls away, wiping her chin with the back of her hand, and smirking at the sight of you.

Vi brushes your sweaty hair our of your face and coos at you.

“So good for me. Good girl,” she says. You nuzzle into her neck as you start to drift off. Vi gently puts your underwear back on for you and drapes the blanket over the two of you.

“Thank you…” you whisper. She slowly drags her fingers down your arm.

“Hey?” she asks. You hum in response.

“How’d you get in here?” Vi asks, “You never told me.”

“I… dealt some drugs,” you respond.

“Oh? So it really is just minor shit. I thought you were hiding something,” Vi laughs. You laugh too.

“Yeah, just some shimmer,” you admit. Vi stops laughing for a second and her eyes widen.

“You’re kidding,” she says, stunned.

“I’m not,” you chuckle.

“You dealt fucking shimmer? That’s fucking crazy. I didn’t know you were capable of that shit,” Vi replies, sounding impressed.

“Yeah, well, I got caught, so…”

“Well, you know, if you didn’t you wouldn’t have had the best orgasm of your life,” Vi smirks. You nod in agreement.

You yawn and your eyes began to close. You rest your face comfortably in her neck, and she looks down at you in adoration.

“My good girl…”

[patrophthia]

hi babes!!!, I saw your 1K follower event!! ( CONGRATS BTW!!! ), and I was wondering if I could get a fic based off of promise or bewitched by laufey for Theodore nott!!, I don’t really care which song you pick I literally love them both sooooo much!!, I was also wondering if you could make reader like a sunshine personality!, you don’t have too dew about it!!, only do it if you wanna!! <33, anyways that’s it please and thank you!, once again congratulations!!!!🫶🏻🤍,

( made this pink so it matches your theme! )

thank you sweetheart!!! for making it pink and everything and yes i love writing sunshine!readers and love love laufey,,, i went with bewitched bc promise makes me bawl my eyes out but here it is!!

you’ve bewitched me | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x reader

genre: fluff, new relationships!!, domestic fluff, it’s so sweet your teeth will rot, reader is mentioned to be shorter than theo

part of my 1k celebration event !

Theodore Nott is well aware of magic and Wizardry alike, he knows of charms and potions like the back of his hand. He knows the effect it might have on a person, how long it can last, and how it tastes —trust him on this, he’s had people slip love potions in his pumpkin juice countless of times before (he tried reaching out to the Professors for assistance but Snape only ended up putting students who looked at Theodore too weirdly into detention, didn’t really work though, seeing as he got slipped another potion a week later). 

But, since he knows it oh so well then why was he having the hardest time trying to come up with why he feels so drawn to you? Why he so incredibly desires you? And why does he miss you so much even when you’re still here, next to him, as you’re bidding him goodbye? 

You’re smiling at him, and it’s soft; it’s so sweet, you’re so sweet to him, it hurts his heart. He doesn’t want to let you go, and neither do you. But it’s getting late, and he knows you have an early class tomorrow —so does he. Your hands are in his; the both of you standing in front of your common room. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say lowly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping painting. You’re caring, and Theo loves it. You’re good to the people around you, you’re good to him; and he wonders if you’ve casted a spell on his heart and head to make him think so highly of you. “Breakfast?” 

“Mhmm,” he hums first, nodding. “Breakfast,” he repeats after you, his hand not loosening its grip on yours. “I’ll see you at breakfast.” 

“You will,” you murmur. “Oh! And before I forget,” you say, slipping off your (well, technically his) jacket of your shoulders. “Thank you for this.” 

You nudge it over to him and Theodore doesn’t  make any move to take it. “Keep it,” he says, the position of the jacket is awkward —uncomfortable even, laying between your joint hands as it fell pathetically to the floor. He’s not letting go of you anytime soon, and neither is he accepting his jacket back either. “It looks better on you.” 

“But it’s yours,” you tell him and he’s stubborn, still not accepting it, “and if I keep it then it won’t smell like you anymore.” 

He tries to think straight, to stand his ground on how the jacket is yours now; but when your reason is so so (what’s the word?) endearing, how could he ever say no to you? 

So he finally lets go of your hand, picking the jacket up and tossing it over his shoulder as he hopes that you don’t notice just how badly he’s falling for you, how he’s practically falling apart as he stands before you right then and there. 

And when you smile at him, even brighter this time, with you going on your tippy toes as you did so. “Goodnight, Theo,” you say first, then you kissed him, so quick and so chaste that he barely get to savor you before pulling away. And when you tell him: “I promise to dream of you.” 

He can’t help but press his lips back onto yours, one, two, three, more times before finally letting you go. 

It’s when he watches you leave when he finally understands why he feels so completely drawn to you. You’ve bewitched him; through and through, and he could only hope that your curse will not wear off anytime soon. 

— from bee: theodore nott makes me SICK to stomach,,, i want him so bad

[azulaaaaaaah]

rating every zuko ship (cause that mf is shipped with everyone)

CLICKBAIT!!! this isn’t every zuko ship just the main ones i immediately lied lol. idk if any of these are hot takes or not but please don’t crucify me (might do a part 2 where it’s azula ships)

Jinko - Zuko/Jin

6/10

awwww it’s cute (for what it is)

and what it is was one singular date that was never really mentioned again

i really appreciate how jin is so unperturbed by zuko’s awkward angst and just genuinely likes him

howevvver she’s kinda one dimensional (as she’s only in like an episode) and i just don’t see this going anywhere longterm

less a ship, more a vehicle for zuko’s character development lol

Jetko- Zuko/Jet

3/10

jet being zuko’s first gay encounter is canon in my eyes

don’t ship them however cause i hate jet with the fire of a thousands suns

similar issues to jin as well where their interactions are extremely limited so personally have no clue how this could be a long term thing

Maiko- Zuko/Mai

5/10

i am so impartial on this ship it’s not even funny.

i get that it’s canon. i get that izumi looks suspiciously like mai so it’s endgame. i just don’t see HOW?? it feels as if the writers realised zutara was becoming popular and were like ‘OH SHIT WE GOTTA DEFUSE THIS SITUATION SOMEHOW’

their relationship is basically just mai being a cold asshole and zuko being an angry asshole and there’s no change or development between EITHER OF THEM

however when they’re cute they’re cute !!!!

‘i love zuko more than i fear you’ COLDEST LINE EVER

however again it’s like - you had a crush on him as a kid. he was BANISHED. you dated for like a month as teens. you argued the whole time. he left again- and shortly after you saved him from prison, but then you were imprisoned partly due to his actions. you get back together again, he becomes the ruler of a country, and then you’re surprised it’s isolating him/making him even more of an asshole???

on the other hand we as a society need to admit that zuko is weirdly possessive of her (ig that’s a positive if ur a booktok romance girlie but im not). like if i was mai i wouldn’t put up with that toxic shit either

at the end of the day, i honestly don’t care that they’re canon lol- but i think they’d probably best as a bitchy best friend duo

Zukaang - Zuko/Aang

1/10

not round here partner. not round here

my first issue is the age gap is objectively extremely weird if examined in canon. leaving it at that

i get that this is grumpy x sunshine in a way the other ships aren’t to me- but we’ve only ever seen these two characters interact with each other when there’s (again) A WEIRD AGE GAP

they are bros in the least homosexual way possible

the cherry on top of this situation is: isn’t aang the reincarnation of his great grandpa? isn’t that giving slight, uh, inc*st vibes??? imagine if people shipped korra and jinora isn’t that just WEIRD???

Zuki - Zuko/Suki

8/10

is this my most controversial take ???

i am a sucker for bodyguard x royal family dynamics guys

and the fact that this is girlboss x malewife is even BETTER

suki seems the most competent at handling his pissy ass in a way the other people on this list aren’t

like she’s real. she’s not sugarcoating his situation, BUT SHES COMPASSIONATE !!

i don’t like throuples typically but suzukki is even eliter than this, which removes the whole ‘going against the bro code’ element that arises from them being together

also i feel like if you haven’t read the comics this doesnt make sense At All so please do

-2 points for the lack of tangible reason to ship them lol

Zutara - Zuko/Katara

7.5/10

okay this one makes the most logistical sense to me within canon (solely examined as a zuko ship not overall)

it really seems as if they were gonna make this canon and swerved circa book 2

LIKE CMONNNN OG ENEMIES TO LOVERS WHERE THE GUY ACTUALLY HAS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND ISN’T JUST EVIL? FIRE X WATER? ITS INTRIGUING

something about this makes me uncomfortable though. (despite the age gap which again a little weird)

something about katara potentially becoming the fire lady is so… icky. she’s a waterbender. the fire nation tried to systematically erase her kind. her mother is killed by the fire nation because they think she’s a waterbender. and katara…. what, becomes part of the royal family? it just seems wrong, and like something she wouldn’t be into

also i feel like their arguments would be a little too NUCLEAR. there’s like, a 50% chance of divorce

she deserves a better ending than that is all i’m saying

to paraphrase the hunger games: katara has plenty of fire herself. SHE NEEDS THAT DANDELION IN THE SPRING MAN

(i’m a kataang truther)

Zukka - Zuko/Sokka

9/10

my zuko related otp!!!

bros to lovers guys, where zuko falls first but sokka falls HARDER !!!

ik this will never be canon and im happy with that. i know there’s not even a whisper of romance between them in the show, but i just think it’s c u t e .

sokka (like suki) is very likely to call zuko out on his shit, but less likely to lose his own shit (like katara)

this in my heart of hearts is 10/10 however is still problematic in a similar way to zutara

his mother is killed by the fire nation and he (presumably) becomes consort ?

however though, i would still say it’s not as ruhroh as zutara bc firstly, sokka isn’t a waterbender, and secondly, ‘consort’ is a lot more open to interpretation than i think fire lady is. in my opinion a consort ≠ a fire lady, just like irl a consort ≠ a queen. it kinda means he can still be ambassador to the southern water tribe/a leader of his own people, while just so happening to be married to the fire lord.

overall i can’t help but stan a friends to lover ship cmOn now

[meanbossart]

I do love how Astarion, lovingly, tells DU Drow to stfu about his breeding kink lol

Astarion, for the first time in two hundred years can have sex the way he likes. Do you have any headcanons about him and DU Drow discovering what he actually likes?

(I'm pretty positive this was in reference to this, (un)fortunately my inbox is a little hard to keep up with so I must have missed this one at the time)

Kind of! I try not to overthink his internal processing of sex following everything that has happened, as I feel like that runs the risk of setting too clear a line between good and bad recovery and experimentation - y'know, that concept I have delved into a few times by now about how I assume he continues to do things that make him uncomfortable/that he doesn't necessarily wants to do, not to self-harm but simply because he doesn't want to be held back by by his experiences and (mostly) has the ability to deal with the emotional consequences of it, as long as it was a choice he made of his own free will.

Which is to say that I think Astarion was willing to try a lot of things with his partner. Especially after "vanilla" sex became normalized between them past the end of the campaign (as they weren't really fucking during it at all) and things like putting small fantasies of his own the table started to feel like a strange, but tempting excursion. This is a trigger for the both of them to be much more blatant about their desires with each other, especially once DU drow gets over his perception of Astarion as some kind of wounded bird who needs to be handled with kid gloves.

While Astarion doesn't strike me as someone who'd ever get into wizard sex inflation or whatever gimp parties the Loviatar people are throwing, I do think he likes it when sex is injected with a degree of weirdness, even awkwardness. Keeps him from the temptation of defaulting back to a script like he used to do - even if whatever they got up to wasn't particularly titillating, at least he was present all throughout it, which would be a priority. I think it will take decades for Astarion to figure out what he's actually into into.

In the meantime, he is very fond of his partner's body, his general behavior in bed and of taking his time, also a bit of an oral fixation. Unless purposefully leaving his comfort zone, Astarion prioritizes his own fun and enjoyment because he knows DU drow gets off on being the source of it. This is a very body-worshippy couple overall, but Astarion is the main perpetrator since it is an invigorating experience to not be in the role of the Desired after having his identity revolve around that very concept for so long. Naturally, DU drow lets him do whatever the hell he wants to him and doesn't even demand that he finishes, or that it escalates to actual sex at all. It works out well for them.

[firemenenthusiast]

hi hi! I wanna say I love your writing and love that you’re on the Archie train rn - I do have a lil request so I know most people think Farleigh is like submissive but I would love one where he’s like super dominant and for smut he’s like basically leaves you crying from overstimulation and makes you come a lot but like in a fun way not necessarily toxic (which isn’t bad either but yeah) (((: idk I feel like he’s a switch and could be both dominant and submissive

oh my god dom!farleigh finally out ! thank you so so SO very much anon for being so patient with me and i am incredibly sorry for making you wait this long :’(

—“casual”

dom!farleigh x fem!reader

summary: there’s a reason why you should never talk about farleigh behind his back

warning: 18+, smut, pwp, unprotected sex, rough sex (dom!farleigh), brat tamer! farleigh, free use, degradation kink, farleigh and reader sounds like fuckbuddies, cunnilingus, slapping, name calling (slut & whore) (sorry) (not sorry), praise kink, petnames (baby, sweetheart & doll) oral fixation, face-fucking, mirror sex, cock-slapping, spitting, making out, overstimulation, blowjobs, dacryphilia, throat fucking, mating press, teabagging, facial, cum eating, creampie, cervix fucking, ruined orgasm, foul language, humiliation, aftercare, fluff at the end

a/n: i really hope this is okay with what you’ve imagined anon, as writing dom!farleigh is by far my hardest work yet. literally pondered on this piece for months. enjoy ! teehee <3 also keep reading, it gets better

“can you believe it ? like— im not even asking for much but he’s just so, ugh” the girl sitting over at the end of the couch complains. you’re sitting in a circle, well not quite a circle, but it’s a bunch of girls just lounging, sitting and talking about what’s currently bothering them. and this time, the topic is boyfriends. cliché, but they can really be a pain in the ass according to these girls. you’re not sure if you can relate, given that you do not have a boyfriend. but you do have farleigh, whatever you’re calling him. he’s never bothered to put a label on it, and certainly never bothered to ask you to be his girlfriend. “oh my god yes” you hear one of the girls agreeing, followed by the others nodding and grabbing at each others thighs

“what about you ? i mean, we certainly heard a lot about farleigh” one of the girls asks you, snickering at the end of her sentence. everyone around campus is familiar with how farleigh’s relationships never end peacefully. they always end with a series of drama that apparently everyone is tuned in on. it’s like a ‘what did farleigh do this time ?’ show, that airs every couple of months. the common hall massacre from farleigh’s last hook up is still being talked about till this day and it’s been like what, six months ? you don’t know why even after seeing those messy events where farleigh always looked like he couldn’t care less, you still ended up in his bed at the end of the very party where he first laid his eyes on you. i guess when thee farleigh start shows you even the slightest of interest, you have no other option but to give in. it’s like a once in a lifetime opportunity, and one must be strong enough to resist the temptation of getting with the tall, golden skinned brunette. you— ? you just don’t have it in you.

pursing your lips, you quietly force an awkward smile to yourself, practically eye rolling. ofcourse they would be interested. you shut your eyes for a moment before blinking to every eyes focusing on you. truth be told, you dont like talking about farleigh to people, especially to answer invasive questions like this. you already feel so insecure with whatever kind of relationship you have with farleigh, so having people try to peek into it puts you in a very uncomfortable position. “what about him ?” you raise your eyebrows with your question-response in a desperate attempt to push farleigh off the topic. “girl how’s your boyfriend ? is he great or…” one of the girls tease, flipping her hair over her shoulder, trying her best to provoke an answer from you, preferrably a piece of gossip that she could spread to her girlfriends at uni.

“he’s not my boyfriend” you let out quietly, head low, correcting their assumptions that it’s an established relationship, earning a swarm of mutter from throughout the group. some of them already exhanging knowing looks and giggling to each other. well isn’t this just humiliating. “how come ?” the blonde serves you with yet another question, tone obvious that she’s just mongering for gossip. the sudden light dust prickling at your eyeballs are being wiped away by a heavy blink from you. all these questions evoke a sudden rage from within. she’s right. yeah, how come ? how come you’ve been letting farleigh fuck you anytime he wants when he doesn’t ever bother to make you his girlfriend. you’ve realised a long ago that it’s unlikely that you’re gonna be a couple but everyone seems to think the two of you are exclusive by the way none of you have been caught fucking anyone else.

noticing your expression, she decides to spare you the humiliation and just move on to her next question even though the former hasn’t been answered. the situation is making you awfully quiet, and it’s not just because you barely knew any of these girls, you just thought sitting with them in this mild get-together at farleigh’s mansion might offer you some sort of entertainment. never have you thought that you’re the one who’s gonna be the entertainment. the thick buzz at the top of your head confuses you between the exhaustion of talking to obnoxious young adults invited tonight or the weariness of knowing that you’re just a toy to farleigh. at first you didn’t really care, but after a while the boy’s starting to grow on you. sometimes he does care, the way he always walk you back to your dorm after a long night of doing your activities. but most of the times you tell yourself that it’s just common courtesy, and he could be doing that to any girl he wants.

“ah fuck that, how’s the sex ?” was her other question, which was followed by daunting whoops of teasings from the girls. still, every pair of eyes is set on you and it’s gotta be on the top list of your most uncomfortable situation. however the unusual bitterness towards farleigh at the moment gags your desire to shit talk about him to these girls. as you search for something bad to say, you realise that you don’t have anything to complain. guess you’d just have to lie then. straightening your shoulders and throwing your neck back, you lean your back on your propped up arms against the floor.

“have you ever heard that he’s good in bed from anyone ?” you start, which earns eager head shakes from the girls.

“well that’s because he fucking sucks. cums too fast, and guess what ? you’d think he’d atleast bother to make the girl-“ you gesture to yourself, “-cum first, but that’s none of his business it seems” the small piece of information being sought out to the public like that leaves the girls wide-eyed, with some of them dramatically placing their palms against their chest. you feel horrible for lying, and it just registered in your head that this will go terribly wrong knowing that it’ll spread around like an infection. “oh my god. really ?” the blonde attempts to fuel to the fire mid-burning the whole place down, her blue eyes almost popping out of her head, gouging for more info from you.

nodding, you catch yourself feeding her with yet another lie. “fucking sloppy, is what he is. moans like a bitch too. i should’ve been fucking his cousin by now, which, i don’t even know why i haven’t” the last part of this whole unbased shit talk feels too much for you, as you mentally wince at how untrue just all the things you said. the whole room is filled with various sounds of gasping, giggling and overall indefinable mutters. if you were being honest, you’re still not going to tell them how you’re willing to beg for his cock, telling him to make you his cum dump, as long as you get to be fucked by him. you raise your head to examine each of their faces, subtly biting on your bottom lips at their reactions.

it was a small get-together afterall, so you wouldn’t be suprised that some of the hallways in the house are ominously empty at this hour. you could still hear a distinct chatter and music from behind the other walls but as you briskly walk towards the left wing of the mansion, your wrist is suddenly being grabbed from behind, before your whole body is being caged against the wooden wainscot on the wall, pair of huge palms snaking themselves across your forearms. “farleigh—“ you huff out, neck craned to give access to the pair of lips trailing hot, wet kisses across your skin. the tall figure caging and pressing against your body is making you whimper out a small moan, to which he lets out a chuckle. you always make it so easy for him.

wrapping his fingers around your wrist in a firm grab, he brings them above your head before moving his lips towards your soft ones, a string of saliva shining on the flesh with each breath the both of you are taking. his touches grazes your skin delicately, dragging you into becoming an addict. you suck in a deep breath through your nose as you return the kiss, tongue darting to lick on his bottom ones, earning a smile from him. “i’ve missed you” he teases, while running his fingertips along your waistband, knowing the two of you only parted ways when his friendgroup approached him, which later lead you to the wrongful confessions with the girls earlier. words like these makes you long for his affection, spending your sleepless nights thinking about the feelings you may or may not have caught for him. he huffs out against your face, forehead resting against each other as you feel his hot breath on your skin. he leans down to chase your lips for yet another kiss, your noses nudging against each other only for him to hover over your lips with a teasing grin, making you grow desperate from the phantom kiss.

his large hands rest on the curve of your waist when you push him back by his broad chest, both your fingers sprawled over the fabric of his linen. he’s ridiculously good at maintaining his balance all while being pushed back with his head leaning down, still kissing you, his pretty curls grazing the skin on your cheeks. he’s so pretty, the type of pretty that makes you want to look at him all day, the type of pretty that you’d fall for. the way he kisses you could make anyone believe that he’s in love, yet he never cared to let you know, or tell you that this is just a fling for him. you already know where this is going, as you were on your way to find him in his room anyways. you let out a small giggle when he almost toppled back over a bump on the carpet, before he joins you with a low chuckle against your lips.

“c’mon, farleigh—“ whining, you’re half begging for him to just pick you up and carry you to his bed, which, like he could read you mind, he does. “i know, baby”. you’re clinging onto him with your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands cupping his face to deepen the kiss as you feel the growing bulge poking at your thighs. humming into the kiss, he pulls away momentarily to lean you against the wooden door of his room, turning the both of you to hold you against the door, forcing it to shut, all while his tongue licks your taste off yours.

you could feel his desperation grow from his kiss as your fingers work eagerly unbuttoning his shirt. he fumbles with the back of your dress, reaching to undo the string, heavy pants escaping both your lips, practically clawing at each other. after peeling the linen off his shoulder and pulling it down to throw it on the floor, you watch him move recklessly. “fucking get this off” he groans, as you reach to the back to help him. everything is moving so fast, and you glad it does as it seems to be impossible to remain patient with each of farleigh’s touch against your skin. it’s like a craving, an addiction, as desperation fills the thick air inside the room more then the hot breath puffing from your lips.

as soon as you’re left only with the matching set of underwear, farleigh wastes no time picking you back up to throw you on the bed, his body flush against yours as his kisses down your body are starting to get wet. between his fingers raking around your waist and his mouth sucking on the skin of your collarbone leaving wet bruises all across it, you feel yourself getting lost in the haziness, unable to mutter a single coherent sentence. all that could be let out past your lips are whines and moans, as your fingertips graze against his scalp, pulling at the root of his curls. you feel helpless, exposed and needy for him and only him, to do something. once you feel his lips kissing dangerously close to your cunt, sucking and licking especially hard on the flesh of your inner thighs, you find yourself reaching for his face. “farleigh please,,” you let out pleas after pleas, begging for his lips to be where you need him the most. paying no mind to you, he continues placing his marks across your inner thigh and the spot closest to the hem of your panties with his palms smoothing over the skin on your torso.

he’s humming in between kisses, his eyes rips themselves from focusing on marking your skin to look directly into yours, maintaining eye contact. if it wasn’t for the growing bulge in his pants, he’d be willing to spend the rest of his time just looking into your eyes. tilting his head down, he pushes the crotch of your panties to the side, breaking eye contact for a moment to look at the dripping mess in front of him, grinning at how soaked your folds are, making your eyebrows knit. the way your pussy glisten with your wetness gotta be one of his favourite views ever. feeling the ache down your core starts to throb, you can’t help the pitchy moan slipping past your lips and the sudden bucking of your hips into his face. “don’t make me beg farleigh, please” the words coming out of your mouth contradicting each other. before you could add to your complaints, you feel his swollen lips smashing against your folds, his tongue hot, licking away all the wetness collecting and dripping towards your hole. he has one hand holding you down by your waist, and another rubbing on your pussy, spreading the folds apart so his tongue could have better access. the fingers on your pussy roam down to your hole, pushing your clit upwards so he could settle his whole face in between your thighs, his nose repeatedly nudging against your clit. driving his face into your pussy, it’s like he’s stuffing his face with your essence, eager to lick away every drop of wetness dripping down your folds as he feels like nothing tastes better. he hums, sending vibrations through the sensitive nerves, fishing out another whine from you.

“gonna cum, farleigh. please make me cum” the words come out of your mouth like water, without you even having time to think it before. as the knot in your lower stomach begins to get tighter with each sucking of his lips on your folds, he knows you’re seconds away from cumming. you could feel the wave of pleasure threatening to wash down over you, as you’re willing to give up everything to chase after it, even your dignity. shutting your eyes, your fingers harshly grab at the sheets beneath you, as farleigh suddenly rips his mouth away from your pussy, moving over to stand at the edge of the bed, his eyes busy eyeing his hands that are unbuckling his belt. “what the fuck—?!” you almost yelled, anger and dissatisfaction tearing through your voice as you look at farleigh in disbelief. the orgasm that you were chasing is washing away, leaving your pussy feeling so raw and swollen.

he throws you an unbothered look with an eyebrow quirked, his lips shiny from eating you out. “sorry, apparently i’m just not bothered to let the girl cum first” the coy expression on his face obvious, the slight curl at the side of his lips quickly being stripped away. “—isn’t that right ?” he continues, leaning over with his knee dipping into the mattress, his propped arm settling beside your temple, his face inches away from your muted one. the furrowed eyebrows that were accompanying your anger dropped down, as your glossy eyes now being forced to look into his intimidating ones. you could feel that he’s not happy, but none of his expressions tell that, except that you’re fucked.

you hear him let out a chuckle as he leans back, both his knees on either side of your body, resting his weight on your torso. “you should see the look on your face sweetheart” he tsks, shaking his head at you heavy breathing, still affected by the orgasm that he just ripped off from your core. no words could be lolled out of your tongue and you could only shake your head as an attempt to save yourself. he cocks his head to the side before his eyes widen,

“no, i mean it”

moving his knee over your body, farleigh moves to the side of the bed before reaching over to cup the back of your neck, pulling you up to push you off the bed by your neck, forcing you to sit infront of the body sized mirror by his nightstand. you’re kneeling, your hands are forced to prop yourself up from face planting on the hard floor, ass is sticking out on full display giving him the perfect view. oh how he loves when you’re exposed like this for him and no one else.

before you could even react to being pulled off the bed, his fingers already curl themselves across your skin, wrapped around your neck, pulling you upstraight so you could only look at your reflection in the mirror, and his smug face while he crouches down. “look at yourself, such a pretty face-“ he starts, fingers moving to push your cheeks together, his arms pressing down your chest so you’re resting against his shoulder.

“-but so. fucking. dumb.” he says, tapping roughly on your cheek after each words.

the last part of his sentence heavy, emphasizing on how stupid you are that you couldn’t even think before going off telling people such lies. “you know what i love to do with a pretty face that doesn’t know when to shut up ?” he trails off, letting go off your face to continue unbuckling his belt, the metal of the buckle clinking, before unbuttoning and pulling the zipper down.

“as if you know when to shut up” you spit out, trying to retaliate against his words.

he offers you an amused look before shaking his head and smile. “i love when you prove me right“ farleigh chuckles as he looks up to meet your eyes in the mirror, before pulling down his pants, along with his boxers, making his now fully hard length that was straining in his pants spring up, hitting the trail of hair on his lower belly. no matter how many times you’ve seen and been fucked by him, you still think he’s huge. he’s perfectly girthy, his tip always flushes a deep shade of pink and his cock’s just as pretty as him.

he steps closer towards you, reaching down to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail before pulling you up, forcing you to stand on your knees. he looks at you with that grin you could never crack the meaning of, as you watch his other hand move to grab the base of his cock. his firm grip pulling at your scalp leaves you quiet, as you could only glance between his face, and the leaking cock in his hand. with your head in his one hand and his heavy length in the other, your eyes are on the same level of his waist where you could hear the loud sound of him spitting into his hand, as it lands on his length. the lewd, loud squelching sound of him stroking saliva all over his cock right beside your face makes you clench around nothing

sighing, he pulls your face towards his crotch before starting to slap his hard cock against your cheek. you’re starting to feel degraded to a mere sextoy with the way he’s smearing his cock all over your face, the sensitive tip tapping at your swollen lips. his long digits wrapped around the base serves a great purpose of aiming his slick length so it slaps heavy against your face, bouncing against the skin again and again, omitting loud slapping sounds. “i don’t even know what i’ve ever done to you-“ he starts, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“-but you don’t talk about me that way, baby”

he stops the slapping of his cock to wipe it all over your face instead, repeatedly moving his shaft over your nose as it makes him groan in pleasure. your pretty face is covered with the slick of saliva and precum, you hair a mess and sticking all over your face. as soon as he finishes his sentence, your entire reflection on the mirror is being blocked by his legs stepping in front of you, so he could roughly shove his hard cock past your lips, pushing it down your throat. the sudden pressure at the back of your tongue makes you gag, as tears start forming on your waterline. you’re starting to regret the things you said just for the one minute of validation. farleigh has never done anything like this to you, but you know this is not going to end anytime soon.

“shh…shh- it’s okay, im just gonna fuck this mouth slow and nice. is that good ?” he coos, his hips begins thrusting into your mouth, starting nice and slow before quickly changing to a rapid pace in a split second, not allowing you to adjust at all. he’s now properly fucking your mouth, and if you didn’t already feel like a cocksleeve, you certainly do now.

“there you go, you’ve always been so good at sucking my cock. you’re a proper slut you know that ?” he mutters through gritted teeth, both his large hands cradling your head, slamming your face down his cock, heavy balls slapping against your slicked chin from all the drool dripping down your lips. looking up at him, you try to blink away the glossiness of your eyes as you give him an obeying look, seeking for his approval. “oh that’s cute, you’re my little slut aren’t you ?” the whiny moans you’re letting out sends vibrations, further stimulating his cock. “aww mouth too full of cock you can’t even answer” giving you a fake pout on his lips, he pulls out for a moment to let you answer, yet you’re keeping your mouth shut. “i said-“ he yanks your hair as he leans down close to your face, “-you’re my little slut aren’t you ?” you almost topple back before nodding vigorously,

“yes, yes—“

“yes what ?”

“yes i am, farleigh”

your quick response earns a satisfied grin from him before your mouth is back to being stuffed by his hard cock. you try your best not to gag too hard on his length as you know farleigh wouldn’t appreciate that. even with him treating you like you’re worthless, you’re still eager to please him. maybe you are indeed a slut. his slut.

the rapid movements of your head bobbing down his shaft and his hips thrusting into your mouth makes your hands roam up his thighs for leverage, as you look up at him through your lashes. he thinks you look so cute like this, so he offers you a smile from above, the tip of your nose hitting into his lower belly repeatedly. you could feel his thrust getting even faster before one last throw of his head and he’s pushing your mouth off his cock, messy strings of saliva connecting from your lips to his swollen tip, his balls dripping with sticky translucent substance that you couldn’t even tell. could be drool, or precum, or a mixture of both of your fluids. his cock is now resting against his navel, as it bounces with every move farleigh makes. he’s now pulling you up by your arms, the state of you so pathetic that if it were to be described, you’re nothing short of fucked and cockdrunk.

“c’mon sweetheart, hands and knees. need to fuck your pussy” his instructions loud and clear, as your body is being thrown like a doll onto the mattress. and like it’s instinct you immediately crawl onto the bed and prop your ass up, your legs apart, back arching with your face dropped down between the sheets. “i know you’re a good girl” he smiles, hands roaming across the smooth skin of your ass before swiftly pulling down your panties, revealing your soaking wet puffy lips, practically begging to be fucked. “well that’s a sight felix is certainly missing out on” the sight before him makes his cock twitch, a drop of precum forming at the tip before he catches it in his fingers to spread it along his length. getting onto the mattress, his pants already discarded and pooling beside the bed.

he crawls over you to rub his length against your folds, collecting the wetness that’s practically drenching his cock, before thrusting into your hole without warning. a cracked loud moan from your lips grazes both your ears as you give up against the sheets, your sobs being muffled by the soft fabric underneath you. he’s not in the mood of making you feel good as he’s only focused on fucking the dumb out of you and letting his anger out. he’s making you take his cock like a good girl he knows you are, as you struggle to adjust to the stretch of his size. he’s angry, well more like irritated, when he walked by the living room looking for you, only to hear you talking shit about him, and telling pathetic lies with no substance. there hasn’t been one fuck where farleigh doesn’t make you cum first, and he certainly fucks you like nobody else. so when you went off feeding those plastic blondes fake gossip just to appeal to them, of course he’s mad.

his large chest is now pushing down against your back, his large hand found it’s way at the back of your neck, holding your head down that your face is being mushed against the sheets. his harsh thrusts push your body back and forth, your face pressed down so hard to the point that the only sound you could let out are heavy cries and sobs, incoherent mumbles of pleads of his name as you’re being brought to your orgasm while he’s still rapidly fucking into you. “farleigh— mngh,, ohmygod“ in a way you sound like you’re worshipping him, while he’s ball deep inside your cunt, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix.

normally he would help you chase your high down but he doesn’t care. “i’ve never made you cum huh ? you can cum all you want now baby” his words are starting to get to you, as your pussy’s starting to feel so raw. another wave of orgasm come crashing down, leaving you a lightheaded babbling mess. you’re now actually crying for him, tears streaming down your face, shoulders bobbing, as both tears and drool wet the sheets underneath. “no more,, please. s’too much” you manage to let out weakly, your fingers gripping at the poor fabric desperately. suddenly you feel like he’s grown much larger than he usually does.

looking at your fucked up state, he let out a chuckle. “but i thought you wanted this ?” he mocks, he knows that you’re just too fucked up to even make up your mind. you feel so stretched out by his girth, and the position grants him the perfect access to fully fuck his cock into your pussy, thrusting forward in a rough rapid pace into the mattress. “you think felix could fuck you like this ?” he groans, making you shake your head desperately almost like you’re being hypnotised. “n-no,,no- hm“ you let out in response, your voice bumpy from his thrusts that are making your whole body shake. the whole situation is feeding the primal urge in him, as he grunts while biting down the skin at the back of your neck, his hand grabbing at your hair, pulling your head back to lift your face off the drool-drenched sheets. his other hand is holding you close by your stomach, lowering his hand to feel the moving bulge on your lower belly.

“feel that ? that’s my cock- so… fucking deep inside you. so maybe next time you wanna talk shit, fuck-“ he half whispers into your ear through gritted teeth, as his thrusts are starting to falter. both your hot cheeks are being pressed together as he talks right into your ear. “-remember how pathetic you look right now” he finishes off his sentence with one hard thrust, his hot body pressing down against yours before warm sticky substance fills up your hole, drops of it threatening to spill from the brim. you feel his chest resting on your back, he’s catching his breath as he pants into your ear with his hand wrapped around your neck.

“oh fuck,,” he lets out, voice thick with his remaining pants as he watch the cum oozing out of your cunt when he pull his softening cock out. he’s leaning back on his heels, admiring his work, ropes of white leaking down your puffy swollen lips, a low groan escapes his lips when he notices your hole clenching around nothing, pushing out more of his cum. smiling, he reaches over to squeeze your thigh, grabbing at the soft flesh. “such a filthy whore, letting me use this pussy like a toy” he lets out, his words making you feel so dirty. “aren’t you, baby ?” he coos, running his fingers across your chin. letting out a huge content sigh before hearing you mumble out a string out words. “what’s that, hm ?” leaning down, he moves closer to your lolled out face to hear you.

“you came too quick” you struggled to let out those words, yet still determined to try and piss him off.

raising his eyebrows, he seems surprised by your little protest before you feel his fingers slowly smooth over your hair, petting your head.

“i know. and that’s your job to get me hard again”

hearing his words, instant remorse washing over you as you feel him flip you over, that you’re now lying on your back, facing him. he looks even bigger, shoulders broad and glistening in sweat, making you feel like he could cage you in any moment now. his cheeks look flushed and red, his lips pink and swollen yet he never looked prettier. your hands immediately move up to hold onto his thighs, now being on either side of your upper body as his cock is hanging right in front of your face. the remainder of his cum that is clinging onto his tip drips down, landing onto your lips before his fingers push your cheeks open, shoving his cock into your mouth as he tries to fit the whole length inside.

his limp cock feels odd on your tongue at first, but you immediately start sucking on his length. “come on, doll” he urges you, eager to be able to fuck you again. you mentally flinch at the name he’s calling you, as it really makes you feel filthy. deep down you absolutely love filling your mouth full, and sucking on his cock. anything to please farleigh. he’s thrusting his hips down to your face, circling it so now it’s his balls turn to be shoved into your mouth, before being absolutely slobbered with saliva. in no time he’s getting hard again, making it easier for him to fuck into your mouth, only to pull it out and replace it with his balls again, and doing so repeatedly until he feels just. you have your eyes closed, your lips busy fondling and kissing at each of his sack, your tongue covering them with drool.

farleigh is holding onto the headboard, grunts spilling from his mouth from how good you’re worshipping his cock. as he tilt his head down, he can’t help the moan slipping past his lips at you sucking at the underside of his balls. now that he’s fully hard again, he reaches down to grab at the base of his shaft before putting the entire heavy weight of it onto your face, rubbing his length all over your soft skin, like he did earlier.

too weak to form coherent sentences to him, you manage to drag out a mumbled “please…farleigh”. you hear him let out a satisfied hum as you close your eyes, letting the feeling of his wet cock sliding on your face takes control. the length of his cock almost covering your face as he’s contemplating just fucking his cock against the skin of your face into nothing. everything’s just so wet now, his sweaty body against yours, your face warm and sticky with sweat, tears and his cum, with his balls dripping with your drool. you’re too cockdrunk to even protest, letting him use you like a cum rag, wiping the cum off his cock on your skin, your pussy throbbing from another orgasm you just had undone just from how lewd this is.

“you make such a good whore, y’know ? im gonna need to fuck your pussy again” almost immediately after saying that, he’s lifting your upper body up, making you sit while he moves behind you to let your frail body rest against his. “let me have one last fuck okay ?” he whispers into your ear, your eyelids heavy as you slowly nod. his fingers tap at your thigh, signalling you to raise your hips. he has one arm wrapped around you, pulling you up onto his lap as you feel the tip of his hard cock slip back into your cunt with the guide of his other hand. you’re now sitting on his lap, legs bent and all spread out to give access to him. he could feel the stickiness of his cum left inside you engulfing his length, that is reaching deeper, bumping into your cervix. ”fuck, could feel my cum inside you—” the stretch of his cock against your wall is squeezing his cum back out of your hole as low moans escape both of your lips. he begins thrusting at a continued pace, much like before, making your body bounce on his lap. you let out a high pitched moan, your folds still swollen as you mumble out “m’too much farleigh- no more,, please” he ignores your whines and moans, fucking up into you like he’s been starved of it.

he reaches up to grope your tits, that have fallen out of your bra when he was ramming into you earlier. this is the first time tonight that farleigh’s even bothered to touch your nipples as he normally would’ve been too attached to sucking on your mounds by now. the lack of attention to your hard nipples got them too sensitive as you feel like screaming when farleigh tweaks one of them in between his fingers. he’s cupping one of your tits in his large hand while the other one bounces hard with each of his rapid thrusts up your sensitive walls. the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs fills the room as you start to feel your maybe 5th orgasm coming, having lost count- as his thrusts suddenly stop. “nooo,, no- please don’t make me” you start whining at the sudden stop of his movements, shaking your head helplessly to try to get him to change his mind. you know this move so well, he always make you do it when you’re on his lap.

he’s gonna make you fuck yourself on his cock.

“you know the drill pretty girl” his voice firm, not leaving any space for your antics. your head resting against his shoulder feels too heavy to be lifted off, but that’s just you being a brat. you show no signs of moving, with your arms flailing weakly in his embrace. you hear him let out a sigh before being followed by a low groan, lifting you off his lap and flipping you over. you’re now sprawled open in front of him, cold air grazing across your pussy makes you shiver. he pushes his weight down against your thighs with his hands, putting you in a mating press. all you got to do was let out a gasp before a harsh slap from his large hand stings across your face. “i gave you plenty of chances-” he lets out as you feel another slap lands on your cheek

“-but you never seem to appreciate them”

another slap. and another.

you’re moaning, enjoying being treated so harshly by him. as your tears stained cheeks turn red and a new stream of tears are threatening to spill, you try begging for mercy with a weak attempt, “mmh- please, farleigh,,”. your final whiny plea is immediately being cut short by another slap, this one stings especially hard, making you think that he hates you. he’s now grabbing at the flesh at the back of your thighs, fully pressing your thighs against your tits, before his hips start thrusting into your pussy again. wet, squelching sound bouncing off the walls as your wetness start splattering all over the sheets. the shame and humiliation makes you start sobbing again, your breathing heavy as you struggle to take his cock that’s protruding against your walls.

he notices your heavy breathing, yet he has no intentions of slowing down. “you’re breathing like you’re doing all the work, fuck— “ you hear him say. his thrusts after doesn’t last long before he immediately pulls out, his hand quickly reaching down to continue the pressure on his cock. “oh fuck. fuck, fuck—“, strings of curses leave his mouth. stroking his shaft with a tight fist, his pace rapid, desperate and sloppy before his hips begin to fuck into his fist, his balls slapping against his knuckles. “fffuck, fuck yes-” staggering moans spill out of his mouth, making him look pathetic. his voice almost cracks before he’s moving up your body, his hand still pumping his cock rapidly before he’s cumming, spurting warm seed all over your pretty face. it’s not as much as before, but your face’s still covered by his cum, your tongue licking away the drops landing on your lips. you hear him let out a deep sigh, heavy panting before collapsing onto your body.

inspecting his actions closely, your mind still hazy, your face messy with tear stained cheeks, with some still clinging onto your lashes. farleigh had wiped the remnants of his cum off your face, it was the first thing he did after coming back with a bowl of warm fresh water and a piece of cloth. he’s already dressed in his comfy clothes, carefully cleaning your skin with the warm soft cloth. he’s meticulous, like he always is with everything. you look to the side to see a glass of water and a mini chocolate bar that he’d fetched when he left the room which to be honest, you thought he was gonna leave you, all alone and still fragile. looking out the window, the sky’s already starting to gain its light as it’s starting to look a lighter shade of blue. he’s quiet, eyes focused as only his fingers are moving carefully, cleaning off every inch of your body. just as he makes sure you’re all clean and comfortable, you’re surprised when he crawls up closely beside you, snuggling down as he reaches for the soft comforter to wrap the both of you underneath it.

“i thought you were gonna leave”

“not gonna leave my girlfriend alone”

the name hits you like a boulder making you perk up, eyebrows knitted as you realised that you were never his girlfriend. you turn to face him who’s already near dozing off,

“please go to sleep” he mutters out his last words before dozing off for real, pulling you closer into his arms.

taglist: @r4vn @love-me-pls @radioloom @farleighlover @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @luckystrikerealness @juniperhasfallen @themoonchildwhofell @khxna @fuckshitslover @szapizzapanda @inglourious-imagines

dividers by: @rookthornesartistry

[solaris-amethyst]

🪻Back off! I'm married!🪻

✨Pairing: non idol!Hongjoong x gn!reader ✨Prompt: There was this trend going around where couples would test how their partner would react if being hit on by someone. I feel like Wooyoung or Hongjoong would be a lot of fun to see try this! ✨Requested by @beabatiny🫶🏻 ✨Word count: 0.9k ✨Genre: fluff, humor, partners au ☀️Authors Note: Here is the Hongjoong version like I promised, I hope you enjoy it❣️ I tried to explain the Bae Suzy smile that went viral because that's the closest I can come up with that looks similar to what I was envisioning Hongjoong doing😅 The scene with the oranges just came to me and I had to include it🍊

You were in the kitchen, slicing up some oranges to enjoy while watching some random documentary you'd found on Netflix the other day. Humming along to the tune of beauty and the beast as your boyfriend Hongjoong entered the kitchen area.

"Hey babe." He said casually as he draped himself over your back engulfing you in a hug. "What are you doing?"

"I'm slicing up some oranges, I was gonna watch a documentary later. Why? Do you want to do something?" you question him and he nod in response.

"Yeah I saw this thing where couples test how their partner reacts if someone hit on them and I kinda wanna try it. To see how I would react." He confesses causing you to look at him.

"Really? What spurred on this?" You ask curious to know.

"Ahh well I saw a video of it and then Wooyoung told us he did it with his partner and that they had lots of fun, so I wanted to try it too." He says looking a bit shy.

"Well of course we can do it if it's something you'd want to try. Shall we do it now?"

"Let's go to the living room where we'd have more space." He says, taking the plate of orange slices you had cut up with him.

"So I should pretend to be someone else and hit on you?" You asks to make sure you have understood it correctly and he nods eagerly giving you his cute little smile.

"Yes, you just pretend to be someone else and I'll act accordingly." He says as you two get into position and right before you're about to start he quickly tells you to wait putting up his phone telling you he wanted to film it.

Once he gave you the go ahead you walked up to him trying to come up with something to say.

"Hi there beautiful. Can you help me with which drink I should buy here at the pub?" You question and he looks at you before giving you a look where he gave you a smile where his upper lip went up giving you a half awkward smile, his nose scrunching up and his eyes looking straight at you with no indication that he was actually smiling.

He looked absolutely ridiculous causing you to laugh out loud.

"Joongie what are you doing?! You look so uncomfortable." You tell him between laughs.

"I'm trying to make you disinterested in me by doing that. Did it work??" He asks.

"Well I'm sure that someone totally random would leave immediately if you did that to them." You said giving him a pat on the back.

"Go back! Let's do it again. I wanna go again!" He says and you nod, loving that he was so excited to do this with you.

You pick up the plate with orange slices walking up to him.

"Hey want to try some of these orange? I cut them up specifically for you." You tell him trying to be more low-key to see what he'd do.

"Oh thank you." He takes a slice and put it in his mouth without taking off the orange peel under it.

"So, you're pretty cute and I saw you hanging out here alone, could I get your number?" You ask with a wink before he looks at you with wide eyes. The orange in his mouth causing him to look incredibly silly with the peel showing.

"Wha-" You stop yourself just staring at him not sure what to do and he gives you an eye smile before holding up his hand in a little wave and giving you a nod.

You step away finding it a bit weird.

"Babe you look absolutely ridiculous. I'm sorry, I love you but what on earth are you doing?" you say with a snort as he takes out the orange, throwing it in the trash can.

"Best way to get people to back off is to be weird is it not. But I am getting secondhand embarrassment for myself right now." He sighs, ears turning red as he realized he made himself look like a fool just now.

"Well if it makes you feel better I did find you cute in a weird way." You give him a kiss on the cheek before flirting with him again.

"I need your help, I need a big strong man to help me move all of these boxes here and you are the man for this job!" You force yourself into his personal space leaning onto him.

"Ummm sorry I am not big nor strong. Ask someone else." He says awkwardly, trying to push you off him.

"No! I need you no one else! We'd be perfect for each other!"

"Ah! No! I got a partner sorry!!" He manages to get out of your grip. But you won't let go that easily.

"I'm 100% better than your partner, I promise. I'll give you what you want!"

"NO! See!!!" He holds up his hand showing his ringfinger pointing to the promise ring the two of you had gotten each other on your 8th year anniversary. "I'm married!!! Back off please!!!" He points aggressively towards the ring causing you to back off with a Okay I'm sorry.

He then goes up to you giving you a big hug. One which you return happily.

"I think you don't have to worry at all babe. You did great." You tell him as he looks at you with those sparkling eyes of his and that cute little smile.

"Thank you for doing this with me."

"I'd always wanna do things like this with you Joongie, it's fun to relax and play around. But now, maybe we can sit down and cuddle, eat some orange slices and watch a movie or something." You say which he nods to.

"Gladly my love."

[sharkorok]

knight in shining armor!

or where ZB1 helps you out against unwanted advances!

requested: nooo

cw/genre: reader inferred to be fem on various occasions, fluff, humor, uncomfortable comments, unwanted flirting, no yujin because if they’re younger than me u know that’s crazy, cursing, established relationship w/ zb1, tell me if anything else shud be tagged yay

a/n: I’m working on all the situationship requests but it’s getting a little redundant so I decided to try writing some other ideas I had :] hope it’s ok and u enjoy!

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

jiwoong

-tbh I don’t think he’ll be super duper confrontational unless necessary, mainly cuz he doesn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position :((

-you two were just out setting up for a picnic and he left for a second to grab something from the car, and some random guy strolled you to you ready to spit game but honestly you were already thinking of the right time to call the police

-“heyyy are u a fire hydrant because i’d bump into you on the street and stare” was the guy’s opening line which made you audibly laugh, mainly in shock and not flattery because genuinely what the fuck

-“uhhh??”

-you were very thankful for the return of your boyfriend who just shot the guy a confused glance and was like “who r u…?”

-jiwoong was genuinely appalled that this guy thought he had a chance w u, so just calmly explained you two were dating while staring at the stranger

-would really only get pressed if he noticed the guy getting more pushy and aggressive, but once he was gone he’d mainly he focused on trying to take your mind off the situation rather than comforting u :) you guys came here for a cute picnic date and he didn’t want you stuck ruminating over someone like that

-not really jealous, just mad that you were forced in such a weird situation

-u get tons of kisses and he’ll definitely be joking about this in the car

zhanghao

-you and ur lovely boyfie hao were at a new cafe trying out the seasonal menu, both of you knew the place would be bumping so you decided to just place your orders online in advance :)

-being the wonderful person you are you went to pick up the drinks while he got you two a table, and the barista stopped you with a smile

-“hey, I think you’re really beautiful, here’s a pastry on the house!” and you just smile and thank him, but he’s gone before you can even add the fact you have a boyfriend

-free food is free food so u take it back and tell hao what happened who’s gigglin because he’s very comfortable in ur guys’ relationship and this is more silly if anything, is glad other people recognizes ur beauty too <3

-however, the barista comes back to “check up on you” and is a little crestfallen at the sight of zhanghao but brushes it off

-“hey gorgeous, just wondering if everything’s alright? can I get you anything else?”

-“awww thank you, but my girlfriend and I are alright! I think you’re pretty gorgeous as well though :)” hao responded with the most witty smirk you’ve seen in ages, as you fight the urge to snicker at the barista’s seemingly annoyed reaction

-“yes…thanks” was all the barista could mutter out before leaving, causing the two of you to burst out laughing

-expect hao to be milking the joke that the barista was hitting on him instead of you for the rest of the day lolz

hanbin

-is so calm and gentle about the whole situation but takes it very seriously that you feel safe and comfortable

-it was just a waiter throwing some off-handed remarks about how nice your hair looked, or how the dress fit you so well or how your makeup looked great, and it didn’t make hanbin insecure, more worried you would feel awkward during your two’s little date :(

-neither of you want to explicitly stay anything in case the waiter was just being very nice, so hanbin would sort of up the outward affection by holding your hand over the table, brushing your hair out of your face while you talked, smiling with extra-sweet puppy dog eyes, if anything it was just giving you butterflies

-“you alright pretty girl? we can find somewhere else if the waiter is making you uncomfortable” and you wanna scream and kiss him all over because hanbin is a walking green flag !!!

-at some point the waiter gave up but you didn’t really notice because of how your heart was doing backflips over hanbin’s displays of affection and how much he evidently cared about ur comfort throughout the whole date I’m bawling my eyes out

-on the way home he admits he did get a little insecure but he was mainly worried about you so plz give him lots and lots of kisses and promise him that you are literally madly in love w him cuz u R!!

-wants to take good care of you but is extra appreciative if you remind him that you’re very thankful for his efforts I’m sobbing now bye

matthew

-“bro what” is what matthew very loudly says when a random guy walks up to you and asks for your number

-is genuinely baffled because he thought it was pretty clear with his arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you walked down the street

-also a sense of pride that you’re so hot that someone’s willing to stop you in the middle of the street for your number, but the pride is damaged once he remembered this guy seemed to completely ignore *the* matthew?? who was evidently holding you close and wearing your initial around his neck?? like hello???

-the conversation doesn’t feel real because you say, “oh I have a boyfriend!” while gesturing towards matthew and the guy literally just brushes it off??

-“dude, I’m right here, can you get the hint? go homewreck another relationship,” matthew interrupted after an unbearable minute or two of this man trying to convince you to slide ur digits ;P

-is all grumpy while muttering about how you two need to be more LOUD about ur relationship

-probably tries to convince you to buy those “I <3 MY BOYFRIEND” shirts and even thinks about getting you two more matching clothing

-“maybe I should wife you up?? the ring should be a pretty convincing hint…”

-just doesn’t want random people to get in the way of you two :(( in the least toxic way possible :((

taerae

-audibly laughs the second he sees some random guy stumbling over his words trying to talk to you at the grocery store

-he went to go grab you two some snacks and came back to this poor boy just frantically trying his best to convince you for your number while you awkwardly nod and sheepishly smile, eyes flickering around to try and see where the hell your boyfriend is

-if he notices you’re genuinely weirded out by the guy he’ll step in, but I feel like he would let you endure the awkwardness for just a moment before arriving by your side and being like “heyyy baby”

-makes a big show of kissing your temple and wrapping his arms around your waist, giving the guy a disgusted look and a sassy, “who’s this, sweetheart?”

-you’re trying not to laugh at taerae’s snide demeanor, making you immediately feel all giggly and okay again knowing he’s right here by your side

-the guy scurries off pretty fast, which made the two of you giggle

-“I can’t even leave my girlfriend alone in a grocery store,” taerae jokingly sighed, shaking his head solemnly. “Maybe I should switch to DoorDash or something, I don’t want you getting swarmed every time I go to the chips aisle.”

-makes sure to hang closely around you, not in a jealous way or anything, but he doesn’t want random guys walking up to u and making u all uncomfortable :(

-holds your hand all the way until the two of u get home!! <3

ricky

-he can shy up but he’s mainly just worried about you, gets a little protective but feels very awkward about it, doesn’t want to seem possessive or over bearing but also just wants to take care of u and makes sure ur safe :(

-but also like wtf no one gets to mess w his girl that’s just weird

-you two were clothes shopping when you wandered off to look at a pretty jacket you saw when a random guy you’re very sure you never met casually greeted you like you were an old friend, making weird remarks about how pretty you were and not so subtly asking questions that insinuated if you were single or not

-ricky comes back to see if ur doing alright and finds u very uncomfortably scooting away from this random guy, and he immediately comes to ur rescue!

-“hey baby, who’s this?”

-now we all know ricky is a sweetheart but he can also come off as very intimidating 😰😰 , so he’s sorta just straightening out his posture and staring at the guy in disgust

-once the guy leaves because…yknow ricky is seemingly a force to be reckoned with ricky gets all shy and awkward

-“was that corny? should I have even stepped in? r u okay…?” and he’s just shyly hiding ur face in his shoulder and getting all embarrassed and flustered, and u reassure him u appreciate his efforts very very much <3

gyuvin

-gyuvin can be very protective over you sometimes so the idea of you being forced into an uncomfortable situation by some random guy made him very upset

-honestly he was kinda more upset than you, and not in an insecure way but just in the way he was upset *for* you

-guys imma be fr I’m out of ideas for a random dude being creepy so let’s just cut to gyuvin confronting this dude

-he’s not really confrontational or aggressive, but just makes it very clear to leave his little baby y/n alone </3, afterwards he definitely lightens the mood to the best of his ability

-he’s more worried the entire time about your safety over his, even if the guy making advances towards you is getting agitated gyu is entirely concerned about ur well-being :(( my angel

-“baby don’t worry…ur alpha is here for u 😚😜🐺…” “gyuvin shut the FUCK up”

-obviously if ur feeling seriously upset he makes sure everything’s ok, asks if you need anything, gets you some snacks and gives u a big hug

-is unnecessarily clingy the rest of the way home tho <3 might even bark at any guy who looks at you funny depends on how shameless he’s feeling

gunwook

-he isn’t too hasty to jump in just in case he’s overestimating the entire situation, because poor guy doesn’t wanna come off as overbearing and freak you out by randomly swooping in for no apparent reason </3

-does his absolute best to be assertive but also not overly aggressive in order to avoid causing a scene and put both of you in an even worse situation

-once he’s sure there’s no more need for intimidating wook he’s all over u!!

-“are you ok? do you want me to tell authorities about that? can’t fight but I will if necessary trust”

-if u reassure him that he did good and you’re alright, he’ll be very very pleased w himself

-gives you a kiss every time you take a step and has his arms wrapped around your shoulders, he wants everyone to know that ur his and he’s yours and no way will he let any random guy ruin ur little outing!!

-does your best to make you feel safe the rest of the entire day

-has the biggest smile on his face if you tell him he did a good job, it’s not in a weird way where he’s putting himself above you but sorta in the way he feels like a proud dog for being able to take care of you?? if that makes sense?? at all??

-gives you a big hug when u gets home and does everything to make sure that rando didn’t ruin ur twos’ day :,)

[purplelupins]

Lamb

|Midnight Mass|

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Father Paul Hill/John Pruitt x fem!reader

Word count: 13.7k

Summery: An entire life of being a good girl was a difficult cross to carry...especially in a tiny town with 127 residents on a good day. You kept the town fed and spirits as high as you could, but when a new face steps off the afternoon Breeze, things around you start to change; you don't even know you're in the eye of the storm.

Warnings: nsfw, reader is religious, religious symbolism, ideology, explanations and general conversations of religion, age gap (like this man is 80 technically and he watched reader grow up, and can remember reader as a little girl so if that’s creepy to you then go no further), stalking, manipulation, murder (hello have you seen the show?), drinking of blood, hunting of a person, grief, description of animal death, reader is described as blushing, character death, non consensual help showering, guilt and god maybe more but I think that’s it…this is not really a fix it fic

Notes: this is it…the final chapter of Lamb! Thank you all so much for reading…thank you to everyone who has supported me and commented and given me feedback. I love each and every one of you. It’s been a pleasure.

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It was nearly noon when you stirred.

You had expected to awaken in bed, just as you usually did these days when you dozed off; it was not a pillow under your cheek that morning, though. There was a steady rise and fall under your ear, and a security to where you lay. You slowly cracked your eyes open, and took in where you were. Certainly you remembered falling asleep on the couch, but you did not recall laying on Father Pruitt. And yet there he was slumped uncomfortably against the wooden arm on the couch with you pulled over his chest and into his lap like a makeshift blanket.

You had assumed he generally didn’t sleep- either didn’t need it or didn’t choose to. However as you looked down at the peaceful man, you found you were wrong. As you rose your head, those dark lashes of his brushed his cheeks as he lay under you in a slumber. You stilled and stared so as to not rouse him; whether it was out of fear of waking the beast, or manners for not stirring your host, you were not sure.

It seemed fate would come to your aid. Father John’s brow twitched in the same way it used to when he would start to fall asleep during a lengthy conversation after Mass when his hair was grey. His wrinkled face would go lax, and he would slump slightly then catch himself and pass it off as him thinking.

You watched his eyes slowly crack open, then it seemed his senses returned to him all at once as he sat up a fraction a little too fast. You fell a little forward and caught yourself on his shoulder and he caught your waist and your upper arm.

“Oh I’m- I must’ve…-“ he trailed off as sleep still gripped him.

You watched him wake up and laugh a little at the slight awkwardness of it. Then he seemed to finally realize that you too had only just awoken.

“You slept.” He stated, voice thick with tiredness.

You nodded.

“I’m sorry I- well I would have moved you, but I didn’t want to…” he could have stopped there and it would have been true too, “…wake you.” He added.

Your silence made him swallow. Making him nervous was not your intent, though somehow seeing him a little uncomfortable made you enjoy your position a little more.

After a moment he sighed and gently guided both of you to sit up and he pulled at the neckline of the sleep dress you wore. You tilted your head away from him for a better view, and the action itself made his nostrils flare.

So trusting for me…

“No more bleeding. Well done little one.” He hummed.

You waited for him to put the fabric back, which he did after another moment; a gentle sweep of his fingers over your collar bone. Soft and unhurried. Nothing like you had seen and felt from the other men of the island. Rough hugs and claps on your shoulder or an entitled hand on your back. Anything but ginger and gentle.

“Why me, Father?” You whispered suddenly. It was a question that you had repeated over and over until your throat went dry. Why me? Why me God, why me?

John sighed out through his nose. You had always been one to not shy from difficult questions. He could remember your mother chastising you when you would pose such queries to the aging Monsignor at 10 in the morning. He tucked his chin to his chest as he thought then turned back to you, eyes soft.

“Because you were perfect.” He muttered.

Neither Eve nor Lilith. You were neither made from his rib nor from the same soil as he, and John basked in that realization. You were his lamb. A willing and trusting creature who only wanted a Shepard, yet so tempting in its soft flesh and sweet smell.

His words hung in your ears. You nodded- not in understanding, because you did not understand, but because it was a truth he believed. You hoped you would come to understand it, too.

You sat up off his lap, and stretched- the bones in your back popped and your tentons pulled against tissue until you were satisfied.

John watched you unabashedly, a small smile on his mouth at the sight of you.

“I don’t think you know this…but you were always my favourite.” Came his low rumble of a voice beside you.

You settled, and looked over to where he was already turned towards you. “What do you mean?” You asked.

He breathed out a laugh, “It look me a while to remember, but over several months the pieces of my fading mind slowly fell together. I remember always enjoying your company…your dedication, your selflessness and selfishness…your curiosity…so sweet.” John recalled the last twenty odd years following your birth. The birth of a child on Crockett was always a true gift. He had watched you go from smiling and wailing in your mother’s arms to walking down Main Street as fast as your chubby legs could, to you being the last remaining light of the island as you pedalled to the marina with the stiff sea breeze sobering you.

Even in his deteriorating body he loved seeing that little face, in and outside St. Patrick’s. Your wit and comforting nature. The look of regret and apology tugging your pretty mouth into a frown when you would see the filthy floors of the church after a rainy day. How the sunshine of summer mornings would reflect off your face through the church windows. Those dresses you would wear under your warm sweaters; colours of lush fauna, blue skys and spring.

You listened to him, and watched as the good Father seemed lost in thought.

“I don’t know if you remember when my family left…but I was so scared. Independence had always been something I was used to, but something about loneliness…I suppose what I’m trying to say is St. Patrick’s was a home for me.” You returned his thoughtfulness with your own.

John smiled again to himself and patted your hands that sat on your thighs, “And it will always be a home for you…even when it stands in ruins.” He murmured.

You sucked in a breath, and looked away. His stare grew far too intense for you at times.

“Come…you need to eat, sweetheart.” Father John sighed and stood, his hands outstretched to help you up. You took his hands, and let him make you food.

The supplies for the island were simple and repetitive. Nothing fancy. It had been months of similar meals and uninteresting ingredients, but you found that you couldn’t complain. You were alive, and that was what mattered.

“Can I ask you something?” John’s chest rumbled as he spoke across from you at his desk.

You looked up from the book you had been reading- your knees tucked up to your chest in the old chair. “Go ahead.”

The Father took a moment to think of the best phrasing while he put his pen down. This had been something that ate away at him for months, but it had never been an appropriate time to ask it. He prayed this was a corrected time now.

“That night…Easter…you came back. You didn’t look afraid…sad and horrified, yes, but not afraid…” he said, “I was afraid. I was grieving…why were you not afraid?”

You looked away, and thought.

“I was afraid but not…not of what you think,” Your eyes glazed over as you recalled that night. How the church smelled of candle wax and iron and wet wood, “I thought I was going to die that night. I did. And I was okay with that. It wasn’t death that frightened me. There was something else that did.”

He hung onto every word, “What was it, my child?”

You swallowed and finally looked up at him, “You- you weren’t violent. When you first got back to Crockett you weren’t violent.” You shook your head.

Your statement surprised him.

“Well- I - had my limit…Joe- well…he suffered but…I suppose that was a circumstantial thing…for the majority of the time yes I was…fairly docile.” He nodded along.

You felt your throat tighten and your nose prickled, “Then why did they rip their families to shreds? Why did they attack like that…they were possessed,” you said and shook your head, “What scared me and still scares me, Father , is that I think those people were just looking for an excuse to be savage. I knew Wade and Dolly so well and I had to pull a Leeza away from them…their own daughter…are we all just…savages safeguarded by laws and manners and faith? What scares me is that I wonder what they really are capable of. And now that…I’m weaker than them, I would be defenceless. It’s the suppressed urges that scare me.” Your voice trembled.

Father Pruitt hadn’t entirely thought of it in such a way. But once you laid out what the islanders had done in that manner, he found himself a little more horrified.

“I can understand why.” He leaned back and rubbed his brow, “I haven’t…I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

You nodded, “It’s why I run, I can handle dying. I can handle God. But the thought of being torn apart and drained by people I loved is what scares me.”

John regarded you- his cupids now pulled into a straight line.

“I know you’re sorry, Father…it’s not you that scares me.” You said gently. You opened your book and picked up where you had left off; leaving the older man to stew and mull over your answer to his question.

Father Pruitt pulled his messenger bag over his shoulder, and sighed as he readied himself for Mass. The black button-up plus that crisp white collar were back in place from his sweater. He took a quick breath as if to say something, then he seemed to decide against it.

You watched from your spot on the couch, and waited to see if he would give into the itch and say what was on his mind-

“You…you can come. If you’d like.” He tried to say it far more casually than he felt, and it showed.

You stifled a laugh, “To a church full of v-“

“I know…just…I thought you might miss it.” He stumbled a little to correct himself. He missed seeing you there. He missed feeling your glow.

You thought for a long minute. You did miss it. You missed the church, you missed seeing other faces…you missed hearing his sermons and the hymns.

“I do…” you whispered.

“Then come. I promise you will not be harmed, there’s been a steady supply and everyone is fed. I promise you.” He spoke almost pleadingly.

You stared up at him, and clenched your jaw.

John’s chest ached. Too soon. “I’m…I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“

“Okay.”

The ache tightened, but it hurt so nicely. He looked at you in the eyes, “…okay?” He repeated.

You nodded.

A rush of air left Father Pruitt’s lungs in shock, “Okay. Okay…okay, c’mon, little one.” He held out his hand to beckon you to him.

You stood and padded to the bedroom to retrieve a pair of wool tights and a sweater to have over your dress. When you returned, Father John already had your coat and boots ready for you. It was only a short walk, but the church had always been drafty, and winters were not kind on Crockett.

He helped you into your shoes and closed your coat, “There. Now come along. You’ll sit at the front…no one sits there anymore.” He thought aloud.

But you weren’t listening. You were watching that handsome face as he fretted over you. It was so much all at once how he looked after you. Too much but not enough.

What you didn’t expect was how he took your hand in his larger one and guided you down the rectory steps and out past the cemetery and the rec centre. You had noticed ages ago how many new graves there were, though you never mentioned it.

Father Pruitt drew small, soothing circles along your knuckles and led you up through the back vestibule of the church.

You held your breath and paused in the doorway. The last time you had been there, Erin had shot Bev in the chest. You sucked in a sharp breath suddenly and it hurt your lungs.

You needed to do this.

Closure.

Though you wished that Bev was still on Crockett. You would have enjoyed giving her a piece of your mind now that you weren’t terrified. But alas, she was a long gone pile of dust.

“"When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can flesh do to me?"…He is with you, little one. If I am not enough then know that He is with you.” The Father bent to murmur in your ear.

You swallowed the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and nodded.

He took that as an invitation to proceed. You stayed with him as he retrieved his green chasuble and slipped it over his head.

“Ordinary time…” you whispered to yourself.

John pretended not to hear you, and continued on. He knew you were reliving and processing what he had put you through.

When he filed out to the body of the church, he placed a gentle hand on your back and pointed to the front pew where Beverly used to sit, “Everyone thinks that spot is haunted by Ms.Keene. I assure you it is not. You can sit there.”

You looked from the pew to him and felt anxiety start to fill you.

John turned back to you and brought his hands up to cradle your soft face.

“I am with you. You will not leave my sight I promise.” With that, he placed a small kiss on your forehead, and released you.

Trust.

You took another shuttering breath in, and out, then stepped out into St. Patrick’s. It was still empty, and your footsteps echoed in the bare building. You looked down at the floorboards, and at the stairs to the pulpit, then finally you dared to look down the aisle to the door. Flashes of Easter make you blink hard to force them away. Now there was no blood, nothing left to portray the carnage that occurred there.

You eyes fell upon the crucifix, and you forced yourself to sit down in the pew. You needed watchful eyes on you that night. Your fear began to bubble up into your throat and constricted it. You needed to not be alone.

You reached into your coat pocket, and clutched your rosary, and you began to pray.

“Angel of God, my guardian dear, To whom God's love commits me here, Ever this day, be at my side, To light and guard, Rule and guide. Amen.” You whispered to yourself.

John still stood in the vestibule, readying the communion when he heard your little voice start to pray. He swallowed thickly at the memory of last muttering that same prayer; clutching at his stomach and screaming for that winged beast to come to him…he might have given into the grief, but John had long since worked through the guilt that did eventually come, contrary to what he told Riley. Instead, he blinked a few times, and began to recite the prayer with you under his breath.

The doors to the church were opened, and your baby hairs stood on end.

“Angel of God, my guardian dear, To whom God's love commits me here, Ever this day, be at my side, To light and guard, Rule and guide. Amen.” You finished and crossed yourself.

There were slow footsteps as parishioners entered, and noticed you. You knew they noticed you by the way conversations stopped and whispers began. You didn’t dare look behind you.

No one approached you, just like your Father had told you. You kept waiting for someone to grow bold and take a seat beside you, but it never came. Even as you all rose for the hymn, and began to sing, you remained alone and untouched.

You sang quietly, and kept your eyes low until Father Pruitt passed you and took his place at the pulpit in front of you. You had to crane your neck now to look up at him, and you found a twinge of pain there in your shoulder from the bite. A cruel reminder.

“Good evening everyone…here we are again as Christmas approaches and the New Year. It’s during this time of year when I am reminded of gifts. Gifts come in so many shapes and forms…at so many times. A shiny new bike, a gift card, a new dress…wrapped up and then torn apart to emphasise the excitement…then there are other kinds of gifts. The gift of seeing a loved one again. A child, a new house, a hot meal. Sometimes a gift can come in the form of a person. Jesus was a gift to mankind…our Lord and our Savour who leads us even though he has left us…” he spoke gently, and you found yourself softening. You felt like you were listening to your Monsignor again. No agenda…no manipulation. Just a man with a collar trying to remind people of God.

“People can be the biggest blessings…we give each other connection, and we empower each other. We can remind each other of better times and push each other to move forward. To recover, to learn, to get out of our comfort zones. To be more pious and to think of God more. People can be reminders for each other just as much as a crucifix…Gifts. Meant to be treasured…” he glanced down at you, and his heart swelled at the sight of you being there, “And cared for. We must nurture and care for those around us who remind us of God, and who push us to be better. We must be selfless for them.”

You listened to him, and rolled your rosary over your fingers. Like little drops of water. The last memory you had of being in church was full of so much fright and anxiety as you tried to get a grip on yourself- telling yourself everything was fine when it evidently hadn’t been. You sometimes wondered what would have happened if you had listened to your gut and left long before Easter. Would you have lived? Or would you have returned to Crockett after to come home only to be devoured at night because you didn’t know about the islands nightly tendencies? Was there any way to escape or were you doomed from the start?

You didn’t stand in line for the Eucharist. You didn’t watch the rest of the flock accept it. But as the final person left to sit down, you heard your name being called gently. You slowly rose your gaze, and met with Father Pruitt standing just feet from you.

“Body of Christ, little one.” He said to you, wafer in hand. You took a moment to catch up with his offering, and when you saw a paper cup in his other hand, you gave in.

“Amen.” You held your hands out to accept it the wafer, and let it dissolve on your tongue.

“Blood of Christ, little one.” He said, holding out the cup to you. You flicked your eyes up to his for just a moment.

Trust.

“Amen.”

You leaned forward, and let him tip the cup’s contents into your mouth. Your tongue was flooded with grape juice.

John watched you proudly, and finished service.

You didn’t stay. You couldn’t. Of course you wanted to see Annie, and to hold Leeza and to look Dolly in the eye. But you couldn’t. The thought alone had your stomach churning with upset. You wordlessly brushed past Father Pruitt as he descended the stairs to bid his parish a goodnight, and he watched you go. You slipped out the back door and ran back inside the rectory and slammed and locked the door.

You ripped off your coat and hung it up with shaking hands, and toed off your boots and yanked off your tights because everything felt too tight and too warm and too itchy all at once and you couldn’t breath.

You turned off the lights and ran into the bedroom and pulled the blankets up and over your head as you tried to find an equilibrium in your breathing. Your ears were ringing and your stomach felt uncomfortable like you had either eaten far too much or far too little.

After a while, you heard knocking on the front door. Your nerves lit up at the idea of one of the islanders being the visitor. Your stomach only dropped further when you heard keys. You knew Father Pruitt was the only one with keys, or so he said. What if this was all a trap? What is he asked you to come that night so he could let the parishioners on you? What if he was lying all along? What if-

“Y/n?” Came that low hum of a voice that you had grown to know. You still didn’t move. What if he had other people with him?

You could hear footsteps coming closer. You pulled the covers closer, and tried to hold your breath.

“Little one, what are you doing?” Came his gentle whisper.

You didn’t reply, staying as still as you could.

He sighed.

“Give me your hand, my sweet girl.”

You didn’t.

“Trust me.”

You slowly moved your arm and released the death grip you had on the blanket to produce your hand to him.

John tutted your palm where little crescent moons were etched into your skin where you had clenched your fists.

You felt him take your hand, and raise it up until you felt him press it against his cheek.

“See? I’m here…you’re okay.” He whispered into your skin and leaned into your touch. You moved your fingers over his cheekbone and along his jaw, then down over the corner of his mouth and over his Cupid’s bow until you returned to holding his face. You felt the light press of a kiss to your palm, and your breath hitched.

“Come here, sweetheart…”

You very slowly pulled the blanket off your head and turned your head up to peak around the room. It was dark. So dark. You knew he didn’t need the lights on to see you clearly, and when your eyes found his, his gaze were two pinpricks of light bouncing off his pupils.

With his other hand, he coaxed the blanket off you a bit further until your thighs poked out.

“There she is…” he whispered, and pulled on your hand to sit up until he was sitting beside you and guiding you into his lap,“You did so good, I’m so proud of you, my girl.”

Your limp grip on his shoulders tightened quickly until you were wrapping your legs around his hips and locking your arms around his shoulders; face buried in his neck.

John exhaled into your hair as your scent flooded his senses.

“I’m sorry I ran…” you murmured.

“Shh..nothing to apologise for.” He kissed your temple, and pretended to not notice how your legs tightened around him. How close you were.

“I know they want to see me…I just…I don’t think I can…” you sniffled.

“That’s alright…they understand.” He cooed, stroking your hair.

You sighed and suddenly felt so embrasssed for running. You felt like a child.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” He breathed against the crown of your hair.

You shook your head.

“Do you want to come sit with me? I can read you one of those terrible German fairytales.” He offered.

You laughed shakily, “I’d rather go back to the church, Father.”

He laughed with you, and you enjoyed the vibrations it made in his chest. You slowly pulled away from him, but kept your gaze lowered to his chest. You thought you were stronger than that.

His sigh fanned over your forehead, and his finger came under your chin to tilt your face up to his. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and you could see his face. His breath mingled with yours, and you swallowed it down.

“Come sit with me.” He said gently, “Keep an old man company.”

You relented and untangled yourself from him.

“Slowly…there you go.” He helped you to stand, and put a hand on your lower back to nudge you out from the bedroom.

Your bare feet were cold against the wooden floors. When you sat, you immediately tucked them under you to warm them; you didn’t want to ask for a blanket, you had been enough trouble already.

John shucked off his coat and hung it while watching you in his peripheral. You were cold.

He walked past you and retrieved a blanket from the closet, and grabbed a book he had seen you eye, then returned to you.

You looked up when you heard Father Pruitt round the couch, and your cheeks went warm when you saw the blanket.

“Sorry…” you whispered and accepted the plush quilt.

“Hush.” He whispered and took a seat beside you, then held his arm out for you to come closer. You shuffled tentatively towards him, and he tsked you before putting the book down momentarily to pick you up and slide you over his thighs. You gasped a little and tried not to be uncomfortable for him; squirming to keep most of your weight off him while he pulled the blanket around the two of you and up around your torso.

“Better?” He asked, leaning away from you to see you.

You nodded, and he hummed before picking the book back up and flicking through to find a spot to start.

You sighed, and still felt ridiculous. But then you remembered the last time you had felt silly, and you had had every right to feel what you did. Terror or embarrassment, it didn’t matter. With that thought, you allowed yourself to settle into his collar which dug into your cheek.

Father John began to read aloud. After several minutes, you felt his free hand leave you and reach up to his white collar, and pull it free. You watched him put it down beside you, then return to undo a few buttons as he spoke. You were transfixed by his hand, and then watched it stop and return under the blanket to your thigh.

An odd sensation filled you then. One that caught you as off guard as when you had compared Father Hill to Jesus Christ. It was something that coiled low in your belly…constricted yet not unpleasant. You shifted to alleviate it, and while it did dissipate, it didn’t disappear.

You tried to focus on the Father’s voice as he read to you. But it felt as if his words went in one ear and out the other- all that was left was the gentle hum that resonated from his throat.

“I liked your sermon, Father.” You interrupted him.

John paused at your comment, “I’m glad you did.”

“Reminded me of the ones you’d give when I was little.” You said.

He smiled, and patted your thigh, then continued his reading.

After an hour, your eyes began to droop and your head grew heavy.

John could feel your heart rate slowing, and your weight leaning into him more. He finished the paragraph he had started, the snapped the book shut and placed it beside him.

“Let’s get you to sleep, little one.” He whispered and worked his hand under your legs and the other behind your back before standing up with you in his arms.

You nestled further into his arms, and protested when he went to let you down at the bed for your nightly prayers.

“Just a few more minutes then you can sleep.” He chastised you, putting your feet onto the floor.

You nodded, and stretched then carefully got to your knees; the Father joining you.

You both crossed yourselves and began to pray.

“Jesus, through the power of the Holy Spirit, go back into my memory as I sleep. Every hurt that has been done to me, heal that hurt. Every hurt I have caused to someone, heal that hurt. But Jesus, if there is anything I need to do, if a person is still suffering from my wickedness, bring to my awareness that which I have hurt and need to remedy. I choose to forgive others and I ask to be forgiven. Remove whatever bitterness that remains in my heart, and fill it with Your everlasting love. Amen.” John murmured beside you.

Your heart ached, and you sobered at his words. “Amen.” You whispered and after a moment you looked over at the man beside you. He returned your stare; the light from the living room outlining his face.

You swallowed, and forced yourself to stand. John followed you up and bent his neck to look down at you at his full height.

“Good night, my sweet girl.” He whispered to you, and tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

“Goodnight Father.” You replied, and sat down slowly. John picked the blankets up, and helped you under. You noticed his hesitation. And you waited.

He stared down at you for a long moment, then leaned over you and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Sleep well.” He whispered just a breath away from you.

You felt that warmth coiling in your belly again, and you blinked more than you should have in an effort to force it away. “Thank you.”

He sighed, and leaned away from you. You watched him clench his hands, and you wondered if he had eaten recently. Just as he went to turn away, you put your hand on his arm, “Father?”

“Yes?”

“Are you…you…you don’t seem yourself, have you eaten?” You asked quietly.

John gulped down some air and looked down, “I’m just fine, thank you. Not to worry.” He tried to reassure you, inching out the door.

It isn’t thirst that ails me, little lamb.

He was never one to brush you off. Which was why is attempt did nothing to smooth you. You sat up, “Have I done something? Did something happen?” You asked.

“No…no nothing. I just…I just need some air.” He tried, his smile tight.

You felt a pang of hurt at his stiltedness, but you didn’t press him anymore. “Alright…goodnight.” You whispered.

He nodded and closed the door halfway.

“So you’re saying you grew up on the Mainland, became a priest…did a little preaching in the cities but said “no thank you.” then came to Crockett in your late 20’s?” You asked as you made yourself a cup of tea.

John nodded from his place at his desk, “It was the 50’s and there were just…so many domestic issues at that time. By the end of confessional I wanted to go home and cry. Crockett was simple and a breath of fresh air. Dull, I know. ” He chuckled.

Your face flushed, “No! No I just…always wondered.”

He smiled, “It’s only natural…I grew up in a non-religious household…Christian but not really practicing…my sister’s passing led me to God. Your curiosity is genuine and fair…who knows where it may lead you.”

You sat down across from him and looked over at his writing.

He peaked up at you and tutted, “Nosey.”

You looked away, and took a sip of the hot drink with a little smile.

It had been over a week now since you had been bleeding out in the cellar. You were completely healed, and truly faced little danger, but both of you refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

You didn’t want to go home.

And you weren’t sure if that was a good thing.

“I always wanted to travel.” You mused.

“Where would you go?” John asked you, slowing his writing.

“…I think Spain first. See the Vatican…go down to Italy and Croatia then back up to Germany to curse whoever came up with those grim fairytales.” You smiled into your drink.

The Father laughed at that then put his pen down, “I’m sure you will see all of those places and more.”

Your smile faltered a little. If you could get of that island, maybe. Did you want to get off Crockett? Would it be so horrible if you died there?

Your mood dropped.

Father Pruitt’a mouth sat in a straight line when he saw your smile drop. You deserved more. A part of him wondered if the reason you weren’t fighting to leave anymore was because of him. Was he keeping you there? Clipping your wings?

You hadn’t attended Mass since that night. John didn’t ask you to come, he knew you would go if you wanted to. You prayed together every night, and listened to him talk about God in your private hide away. Where you could ask questions and interject.

“Your family called today?” John asked to change the topic.

You sucked in a breath, “Yes…a short call but it was nice to hear their voices…they want me to come for Christmas.”

John clenched his jaw, “I see.”

“I told them the ferries aren’t running very well. Not a total lie.” You shrugged and took a long drink.

He stayed quiet for a long moment.

“Why don’t you go?” He asked.

You looked up at him and laughed a little, “I think we both know the answer to that, Father.”

John looked away, and down at his pen, “If it weren’t for the…what happened, what would you do?”

“I’d…I’d probably go. Take some time away. Maybe book a ticket somewhere and see a piece of the world that isn’t Crockett shaped.” You thought aloud.

He nodded.

“That sounds nice.” He smiled quickly.

“We all have dreams, Father.” You replied.

You finished your drink and stood to place the cup in the sink. When you went to pass by him to return to your seat, the Father’s hand caught yours.

“Come here.” He hummed and pointed to the paper infront of him, “What do you think of this?” He asked you.

You looked down over his shoulder and saw a paragraph he was writing for his sermon. You pursed your lips, and found that your neck was growing stiff at the angle, so you scooted between him and the desk and sat on his lap to read better. You had grown used to sitting in close proximity to the Monsignor, and simply began to read.

John’s breath hitched at your action and he went still for a moment. Certainly you had both been close, but you had never plopped yourself over his legs before. He knew it was just you gaining comfort around him, which was positive, but the action still had him swallowing thickly. Closeness was still something he was being accustomed to after a lifetime of so little. It used to be so easy to ignore any sort of…feelings such as this, but since his regained youth he truly felt like a young man again, and found himself relearning to temper his humanity.

“Well?” He asked in your ear, steadying his breath.

You shifted a little and cleared your throat, “Um it’s good.” You said, “You might want to rephrase this part…sounds a little “holier than thou”.”

His brows pitched up and he leaned closer to read. He looked over the sentence you pointed to and nodded along, trying to ignore the warmth your body bled into him. It seeped into his skin and heated his veins.

“Good…thank you, my dear.” He murmured from behind you, and you turned your head a little to see him in your peripheral.

“My pleasure, Monsignor.”

He grit his teeth at the name. It wasn’t that it bothered him. There was just something about you saying it that reminded him of himself. He gave you a tight smile.

You went to stand, but he slipped an arm around your waist to keep you there, “Sit with me for a while.” He hummed, but had already begun to rewrite the section. You might have protested…or your might not have. You didn’t know which you would choose if you did have a choice.

With his large hand planted against your stomach, and curling to your hip, you stayed put. You shifted to let him see what he was doing, and rested your head into the crook of his neck. He wore no collar nor black shirt…just a tshirt and cardigan. You reached out and picked up his rosary from the desk, and toyed with it. After a moment, you opened your hand, and placed the cross against the little scar you had from your own digging into your hand on Easter.

“Must’ve hurt.”

You jumped a little at his voice and looked up. Your nose bumped his. You hadn’t noticed he had stopped writing altogether, and had been watching you.

“Not as badly as you’d think.” You whispered, looking away quickly to stare down at your hand again.

You saw his arm move from around you to grasp your fingers and bring them up to his mouth where he placed a kiss over the pinkish scar. You felt your ears grow warm, and you tried to pull your hand away, but he wasn’t done. John stroked his thumb over it, and leaned away from you to relax into the back of his chair.

“We should get you to bed, little one.” He mused.

You nodded, though you didn’t feel very tired.

He helped you to stand, and guided you into the back of the rectory. You both knelt facing the cross above the door, but when you went to hand his rosary back to him he shook his head and took yours from the bedside table. It felt oddly intimate to be using each other’s rosary for prayer, and you found your cheeks warming again at the thought of it.

You heard Father John begin a prayer for the night, and you forced yourself to focus on it. Not on how his voice dipped into a low hum that vibrated in your ears and made your fingertips tingle. You told yourself it was just the proximity of someone you had once admired. Someone who, despite the horrible things he had done, cared for you. Not the warmth that simmered just below your pelvis.

“Amen.”

You blinked and glanced at the man beside you and muttered a quiet amen like you had been listening. When he went to rise, you found yourself still rooted to the spot; John halted his movement and settled back down next to you. He didn’t ask any questions nor made any comment. He was patient for you, and if you needed a moment longer, he would join you.

Your eyes were glazed over as you stared at a chip in the paint on the wall, but your ears were alive with the memory of that song the Father danced with you to.

Hallelujah…hallelujah…

You blinked, and sucked in a breath, then released it slowly through your nose. Father John tilted his head to watch you thoughtfully, and you copied his movement. The dim light from a single lamp in the living room cast a warm glow over half his face; one eye glinting in the darkness. Your gaze met his, and you felt your lungs beg for air when you saw reminiscent of the man he used to be. His face soft and vulnerable as he watched you with such fondness.

The selfish and childish part of you whispered to itself in question, “Did love feel like this?” And your other part wished so badly to say no, but it stayed quiet because it didn’t know…and it let that other half wonder idly.

You repeated that question over and over in your mind. Is it? You didn’t know. Not that you had to wonder for long, not when he bowed his head and pressed his lips to yours…and the question vanished. It wasn’t answered, but when he kissed you again, you had no space for wonderment. His hand came up to the nape of your neck to cradle your jaw, stroking small, encouraging circles there. If they could speak they would whisper, “That’s it…that’s it. I’ve got you.” in your ear.

You timidly brought your hands up to his shoulders, not certain if you were to push on them or tug them closer. Your uncertainty seemed to have an answer when he gently ushered his tongue into your mouth. Your little fists slipped over his shoulders just as they did when he carried you to bed at night, and his hand eased around your waist like he did when he held you in his lap while he wrote.

You let him press you close, and you could feel his lean frame flush against you; he elicited a moan from you that he gulped down.

A precious sound.

Then as you sunk into one another, he pulled away just momentarily to pick you up and ease you onto the bed. The plushness enveloped you and his hand slipped to the back of your head to cradle your skull as he returned his mouth to yours and climbed over you carefully. This time you tentatively licked into his mouth, and received a pleased hum in reply as he allowed you.

You repeated the action as you welcomed him over you, placing your knees on either side of his hips. This time he shuttered ever so slightly, and pressed himself closer. You felt one of his hands move to your thigh, stroking it softly like he cherished it, while his other had his fingers twisting into your hair to hold you in place as he grew greedy, and stoked your pining.

Slowly, John pulled away, pecking light kisses to your lips until he was bracing himself over you.

““He who guards his mouth guards his soul. One who opens wide his lips comes to ruin.”…I would happily let you be my ruin.” He whispered.

You stared up at him, eyes heavy, “And what of my ruin, Monsignor?”

He smiled thoughtfully, brushing hair from your forehead, “You will have no ruin. Sunlight cannot be ruined.”

“And what about nightfall?” You countered as his face inches closer to you.

“The sun will always be shining somewhere…and if not then let me be that temporary darkness that borrows your glow if only for a while.” He spoke against your lips, and kissed you slowly.

That warm constriction in your belly wove and churned until the heat of it gave you made your toes curl in your warm socks, and arch your back into him like he wasn’t close enough. You hadn’t the faintest idea a body could be capable of such want, and you were intent to allow it to run its course.

That fist that cinched your hair tugged when your thighs tightened around him to draw him closer. A gasp pulled from your lips and John pressed his hips into you, and the rough jean rubbed you so suddenly you cried out into his mouth and along his tongue that knew your taste.

You whined and tugged at his shoulders; that feeling inside you becoming overwhelming. You were at a loss for words to communicate what you wanted, and it was as if he could feel your need for something…something.

He slowed his mouth and pulled away just a breath, “Tell me what you want.” He hummed.

Your eyes went wide and you looked away only for him to chase your gaze, and tut you. “Cmon.” He cooed. You might have thought he was teasing you if he had been anyone else. But John Pruitt was staring back at you like your answer to his question would determine the course of the rest of his life.

“I-…I don’t…I don’t know I’ve never…” you stumbled over your confession.

John nodded, gaze locked on you intently, “Of course…I understand.”

A beat passed between you two, and you were preparing yourself for him to pull off of you and tell you that he couldn’t-

“I’ll be good to you…if you’ll let me.” He whispered.

Trust.

You bit the inside of your lip as you thought; he didn’t move an inch.

Very slowly, you nodded, “Okay.”

He grinned ever so slightly, just enough to show those pointed peaks of his teeth. “Okay.” He repeated.

He leaned away from you then, and helped you to sit up while he rocked back onto his heels to give you room. He pulled off your sweater just as carefully as he had when he had undressed you after your attack.

“Arms up.” He murmured and you did as he said for him to tug your dress over your head.

A part of John was wailing at him to look away from you and to let you keep your dignity. Told him to dress you and take you home and tell you that he wasn’t a good person. But John had always had a tendency for selfishness, and he knew you were letting yourself be just as selfish as he. He knew you were likely having the same or similar thoughts.

So when he let himself look at you.

He let himself gorge on your beauty.

Greedy. Gluttonous.

He remembered then when he was on the cusp of priesthood when he must have been just a little younger than you. How his mentors would remind him of the perils of the seven sins, and how they would test him when he least expected it. How he would have to employ the Lords graces to overcome them. But John more vividly remembered how those same priests would overfill themselves at holiday feasts, and how he had caught a few staring a little too long at women and girls during services. It was difficult to fear their words when they themselves betrayed them.

Which was why John felt guiltless as the fabric came away from you.

Because he would much rather fear the true wrath of God than the intimidating warnings of men. And if God disapproved of the admiration of one of his creations, then John would take the punishment if he was granted this one time to fill his senses with you.

Your hands shook. And you dropped your arms back down as he placed the garment to the side. You half expected him to remain clothed, but he remained where he was and shrugged off his sweater, and grabbed the back of his plain shirt, and pulled it over his head.

You stared up at his form- still and curious. John took your hand in his, and placed it on his chest where his heart used to beat. Feeling his skin somehow made him feel so much more human. Like there wasn’t a lifetime between you and different blood in your veins.

He sighed at your touch and closed his eyes when he sunk back down to you and your hand moved along his collarbone to his neck to the nape where his dark hair curled. Your other hand joined, and tugged a little on the tender hairs there.

He took his hands away from you for only a moment to kick his jeans to the floor, then he returned to you- skin against yours and the veil of your underwear between you. It felt so foreign to know what his flesh felt like. Of course you knew he was born to this world just as every other being- bare as a babe. But he had become so superior in his status that the idea that he had calves and biceps and skin and hair under his chasuble took away so much of that inhuman pedestal you had unknowingly put him on.

Heat seemed to radiate between you both, and your skin became sticky against the winter chill that crept inside through minor holes and cracks in the old building. You pulled at him and tried to press him closer but it wasn’t enough. You didn’t know what it was, but your greed that you had so perfectly neglected since childhood seemed to rear its head with the Father against you.

You found your dwindling strength to push him away and he chased your mouth for a moment and you let him- open mouthed kisses from afar.

“F-father I’m- I- I um…” you tried to shift and squirm to get your point across but even you didn’t know what you wanted.

The older man above you watched intently with almost a paternal care as you tried to explain yourself.

“Is there a gluttonous warmth that’s settled in that belly of yours, sweet girl?” He asked with a small smirk that truly caught you off guard. You suddenly remembered that he was not entirely inexperienced such as yourself, and you briefly wondered if he has always been a little domineering, or if his age had snubbed it or perhaps it was an embraced trait with his renewed youth.

Your mouth lay agape for a moment, then you nodded and squeezed your thighs around him. The stiffness you felt there pressing insistently against your clothed flesh managed to intimidate your insatiability, but didn’t curb it.

“Would you allow me the gift of bringing you to rapture?” He asked so softly, pecking a kiss to the corner of your mouth and caressing your cheek while his other hand’s thumb stroked under your bra’s band.

Your poor mind attempted to catch up, but his touch was making your head spin and melt. His purred question had you recalling everything you had been taught since childhood by your family, “Father isn’t…we…it’s a-“ you started.

“You might think that…but it cannot be a sin. Not when you are this lovely and willing…You are no temptation…you are a gift.” He countered easily. Like he had thought about this before in detail.

“What if you are the temptation, Father?” You asked.

He grinned a little at your retort. Always one to keep him on his toes.

“If I am that, then is it not better to indulge in me than an irrefutable sin another time?” He nudged your nose with his.

You realized then that never once had you ever heard him preach the sins of the flesh. Indeed that temptations were made to misguide us, but never specifically that.

You breathed his air, and flushed your eyes between his, “Then bless me, Father.” You whispered before you could tell yourself it was wrong.

John’s breath caught in his throat, and he could almost feel his pupils expanding into dinner plates.

Cheeky girl.

“It was always going to be you…” he mused aloud, looking over your face, “No disobedience like Adam and Eve listening to the serpent… no you are…you are too good. My holy deliverance.” He kissed you so tenderly.

Then he kissed your cheek, and down your neck to your shoulder where he pulled the strap of your bra down. He followed the elastic to your chest and he helped you remove the article entirely. You looked away shyly, but he brought your attention back to him with a finger under your chin.

“There we go…look at me…you’re alright…” he whispered, a slight shake to his hand, “I’m with you.”

You nodded and sighed as you fought to not overthink.

Once Father John was certain you were alright, he kissed you one more time and began kissing your chest. His hands were a little timid and out of practice as he squeezed your opposite breast, though did not fail to make your toes curl as he pulled sounds from you that you stifled late at night and shamed yourself for; Hail Mary’s falling from your lips like breaths. He lapped at your skin as he descended down over your belly where your ecstasy lay tightly wound and molten.

He stopped then, and looked up at you , face a little shy in his want.

“Your fruit is the only harrowed offering I desire to eat…and if that makes me a sinner then I will humbly accept my punishment.” He murmured.

Your face was so warm you thought you may faint. You didn’t know the man with the stiff white collar and slightly nervous disposition could have such a blunt, honeyed tongue.

You leaned up a little then to look down at him as he kissed at the top of your panties.

“What are you…” you trailed off. You had had an educational sex talk with your mother when you were a teenager, and had read mentions of the various acts you could do, but you were at a loss with how Father John seemed to wish to venture further than just your stomach or hips.

It was no willing education that the holy man had gone through for sexual acts. It had been decades of confessions from islanders and tourists alike back when the island was alive. Some explicit ans some leaving him curious. Tales from visitors he didn’t know who came to spend a few weeks on Crockett and took advantage of the anonymity of the village confessional booth with a young pastor to hear their sins and absolve them before they returned to the city.

It took years, but after a while, he began to piece things together. They made his ears grow hot and his hands grip his rosary a little tighter.

But curious he remained.

Was a woman’s body so wholly splendorous that a man desired deeply to kiss upon her lips where no tongue sat between them? Would she taste as addictive as they said?

“I’d like to kiss you h-here…”he whispered, and so gently ran his index finger down the edge of your underwear where it curved down your thigh, “…please.”

His eyes were wide as he stared up to you; still so unsure but so lost in his desire to think twice.

“…okay.” You managed. Just as lost as he.

His veiny hands ran gentle trailed up and down your thighs, and he peppered kisses in their wake. You shivered and squirmed under the sensations he drew forth, and you wished you knew what to do with them. Were you supposed to moan or tell him what to do? Were you supposed to ask for more? You didn’t know. What you did know was that you wanted his hands to touch you, and that seemed like a good place to start.

It seemed you hadn’t been paying full attention for a moment, though your focus returned tenfold when you felt a warm kiss there against you. You twitched in surprise, and stared down at the man sat between your legs; his dark hair all tousled curls that fell over his forehead and gaze intently immersed in your reaction. He repeated the action, his lips caressing the fabric that still covered you. Your breathing became something you had to actively remember to do when he grasped the undergarment and pulled it down your legs.

With yourself bare to him, you reflexively notched your knees together, though he easily parted them with a little coaxing from his tongue running up your inner thigh.

“Fa-Father Pr-“ you stuttered out breathlessly.

“Shhh…I know…”he whispered against your hip where he kissed and ran a pointed tooth over your skin. He could barely hide the fact that you using his title affected him more than it should have. “Say a Hail Mary with me, sweet girl.” He said.

Your eyes went wide, and the devil in him reared its head for just a moment. He liked seeing you so shocked. But when he began to recite the prayer and you followed his lead, that heathen calmed a little.

“Hail Mary, f-full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed…” you realised the Father had stopped speaking and had begun running his lips down your hip to your pelvic bone, and he tilted his head to nestle his cheek against you for a moment.

“Continue.” He murmured.

You remembered to breathe, “B-blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb-“ you lost any ability to talk when Father Pruitt leaned down and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the delicate flesh between your thighs. You felt the tip of his tongue against you, and his large hands held you firmly in place.

“J-Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.” You rushed the end.

John looked up at you and kissed your thigh with a proud look in his dark eyes. “Amen.” He whispered.

Then slow and deliberate, he leaned back down and kissed you again, this time ushering his tongue into the slick pedals of skin. You stuttered out another deep breath, and clutched at the sheets beside you. He lathed his tongue in you and swallowed greedily, rutting himself into the bed while his long legs braced him. His hands began to guide you to roll your hips up into his open mouth and you found that sensitive spot that had your squeezing your eyes shut and your mouth dropping open in sinful gasp.

When your movements became more bold, and your fingers wove into his thick hair, Father John settled deeper into your flesh. He worked his jaw slow and steady. He was an attentive learner and listened to when your breathing stopped and felt your legs shake or your fingers pull him closer into you.

Then like he could hear your mind, he removed one of his hands from your legs and ran his index finger down the curve of your thigh to your entrance when he carefully pushed in; just as careful as when he turned the pages of the Bible. Your body jerked, and you couldn’t help the cry that he pulled from you as he sunk into you to the knuckle.

“How’s that?” He asked you just as breathless as you.

You couldn’t speak, and you found yourself starting to grow far too warm all at once.

“Good?” He prompted, patient as ever, “Tell me if it’s nice, young lady or I’ll have to stop.” He chastised you.

His comment curled deep inside you like his finger as he stroked you and lapped at your tender clit.

“I-it feels go-good Monsignor.” You managed to shoot back.

He grinned and suckled you into his mouth as he pumped you firm and slow. He knew there was somewhere inside you that would make heighten your pleasure, and he slowly teased and touched every inch he could reach until he found that patch of membrane inside you that had you bolting up and pushing his face into you harder.

“S-sorry I’m- I- Fath- Joh-“ you began to babble and try to form an apology as you immediately backed off, but his used his free hand to bring yours back to his head and had you push down again as he sucked and kissed and lapped at your sweetness.

The pressure of his touch had that coil in you start to vibrate and heat up to uncomfortable heights. Your moans came in constant succession, and you found that you couldn’t breathe without making a needy sound.

You were so lost in your own building euphoria that you didn’t see how Father John devoured and held you with such need that he shook and shuttered. A voice in his head asked him if this was for your pleasure alone, or was this his devout need to know what heaven was like when he was surly damned. His hips rocked and ground into the mattress making his ears ring with want.

Your movements met with his and he let you use him to catch that pleasure you had worked so hard for until your body went ridged. A relieved cry tore from your throat and your muscles constricted around his fingers- when had he added another?- and coated his tongue in his prize. You muscles ached from the tension you endured as you rocked against him to ride out your ecstasy. He licked at you gingerly, helping you through it as the blood stopped rushing in your eardrums.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, your eyes lost their glaze and you could look at him. John kissed your thigh, and slowly drew his fingers from you. You winced slightly, and your eyes grew heaviler when he lifted them to his mouth and sucked them clean like he had been waiting for that.

“There she is…” he whispered and kissed you one more time before climbing up your body and nestling his face into your neck. You locked your legs around him and pressed him against you, your breath hitching at the firmness there that prodded at you insistently.

“Wa-was that okay?” He murmured, and kissed your cheeks.

You nodded lazily and laughed a little. So old fashioned at heart, even in his youth. He smiled back, and blew air over your flushed face. He might have been about to say something else, but you tugged him down to your lips before much more than a muffled sound could come out. It couldn’t have been important as he gave into your want and returned your kiss.

It seemed you both grew aware of the heady need that still hung in the air and your joined lips slowed and stopped until you were both simply laying there with your mouths close to one another.

You flushed with embarrassment when a thought crossed your mind- one that belonged in the gutter. Evidently your burning cheeks were observed by the older man, and his eyes grew searching.

“Tell me…” he whispered, and kissed your temple.

You looked away and fidgeted, then subconsciously looked down.

John tracked your gaze, and when it flickered between you, he had a small idea of what was ailing you.

“We- we don’t…” he started, but you shook your head.

“Its not…I- can- can I-“ you fumbled and squirmed.

He stared at you, and felt your hands toy at the nape of his neck.

“Touch me?” He asked, seeing if that was what you wanted.

You couldn’t look at him, but you nodded ever so slightly.

He sucked in a breath to steady himself as he grew lightheaded.

“…give me your hand, sweet girl.” He shuttered and swallowed.

You timidly removed one of your hands from his neck, and gave it to him. The good Father paused for just a moment to check on you, but you bit at your lip and nodded again, and he continued. He rolled a little to the side, and guided your hand down to his waistband. He didn’t take his eyes off you for a moment, and you followed suit in staring back. He helped you slip your little hand inside, and you could feel him pulse against your palm.

Johns breath caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes when you shyly touched him. You ran your hand gently up his shaft, and grew a little more empowered when his hips jerked towards you. Then, you slowly wrapped your hand around him, and his eyes fell shut and his mouth dropped open with a sigh.

You watched him closely, completely unsure of what you were doing as you moved your hand up and back down. You squeezed him slightly, and his head fell into your shoulder with a soft groan. You dragged you hand back up to the tip, and found a wetness there that helped you. It only took a few moments before he was gently taking your wrist and rolling you back under him.

“I’m- I’m sorry…I can’t- please…” he murmured and you nodded again as he took himself out slowly. John braced himself above you, just a few inches away to see you properly, and he sighed. You really were so…so beautiful.

So lovely.

He blinked, and swallowed.

You started breathing deeply when you felt his slick skin against you, and he kissed you again.

“Shh…take a deep breath for me, litttle one.” He said calmly like his own hands didn’t have an elated tremor to them, “C’mon, with me: in…” he took a breath in, and you followed his lead; his eyes held yours in the dim light, and you felt safe.

There was a pressure at your tender flesh that you seemed to crave as your cramped muscles relaxed and gave away to his body.

“And out…” he imitated for you, and you did as he said, though you found it difficult to breathe. The fragile skin slickened, and welcomed him inside you, and you found yourself pressing every inch of yourself against his damp skin to touch, touch, touch.

John sighed and buried his face into your shoulder where your scar was still fresh. He kissed there and scraped his teeth over the unevenness; your nerves were set alight, and you constricted around him suddenly at the sensation. He smiled and kissed again then trailed up your neck to your cheek where he gathered your lips with his again and swallowed your gasp as he pressed himself further until you couldn’t take anymore.

“There you go…such a g-good girl…you alright?” He whispered as he gasped in his own euphoria.

You took a couple breaths then nodded; the stretch that your muscles completed to accommodate him made you ache, but when his addictive kiss coated your lips with his saliva, it ebbed away.

“Deep breaths…there we go just like th-that..”

He started slow. Gentle rocking of his hips into yours as he stroked your thighs and distracted you with sweet encouragement in your ears. Introducing your body to sensations it began to crave and demand. And after a few minutes, your pelvis began to chase his as he moved until he started to lengthen his rocking- drawing further and further out of you and rooting himself inside you like a plant looking for soil.

Your whining in his ear only furthered his chase for pleasure. Your pleas and moans that he savoured and swallowed. Then when one of his hands left you and disappeared between your bodies, you tried to see what he was doing, but your curiosity was sated when you felt him press just above where he entered you, and stroked you so gently. The sounds you cried out into the small, dark room were enough to summon angels and demons alike to bear witness to your willing invasion.

“How’s that sweet girl?” Came his whisper that curled in your ear and peaked your nipples.

“I’m- I-“ you breathed out an attempted response to convey your approval but to no avail.

You could feel his smile against your skin, and you let him touch you like it belonged to him. You rolled your hips to meet his- slow and steady. You began a succinct string of breathless supplications that played in repetitive order in Johns head as he felt you begin to constrict around him. It took his well practiced willpower and patience to remain composed with you. The selfishness in him wished for him to lock his arms around you and take his pleasure from you as if it was something owed, but he knew he was better than that. He was more than the poison in his veins.

For you he would be better.

Then your nails found purchase in the skin on his back as his pace grew insistent, and he groaned a low hum into your neck. But despite the mounting pressure of sybaritism, he kept his hand steady and calm as he helped you meet your own bliss. It wasn’t that he was well practiced or that he knew what he was doing, but he had hearing that could detect every time your breath caught and when a secret gasp would sit in your throat. Just as he had been with priesthood, he was an eager and curious learner, and he was just as dedicated to knowing what your body craved.

John paused for only a moment to readjust you against him; he knelt before you and shifted your hips up to compensate for the change, then his hands gripped your thighs and pushed them down to your torso and guided your hands to hold them. As he slipped back inside you, your swollen mouth dropped open and he crawled back down to you.

“There we go…that’s it.” He whispered, voice shaking so slightly.

So many explicit confessions from his youth had initially made his ears turn pink and his hands shake from the salaciousness; yet now here he was murmuring those same words into your eager ears.

Any Hail Mary’s he might prescribe after having you under him would be hollow. Not when he knew the enjoyment of such tender flesh. You were the epitome of sublime in your chase for pleasure, and he knew he shouldn’t find such carnal desire in seeing you lose yourself. Yet there he was, wanting to savour every moment of your young body falling apart for him to devour.

Your eyes grew heavy and nearly slipped shut. That furnace in your belly was on the brink of combustion, and the good Father only stoked it. So you let him. You relaxed completely and let your mind go blank as he moved you to completion. You could feel your muscles start to tighten around him, and curl to pull him deeper and closer.

Then bliss…

You could barely register your elevated cries into his shoulder as he brought himself closer to you, his eyes crinkling with pride. You rolled your pelvis up to meet his at pleasure overtook you and used you like a marionette to procure every ounce of your deserved euphoria.

Warmth filled your tummy when Father Pruitt went still. He shuttered and sighed low in his chest as he held you tight and filled you.

Your heartbeat pulsed between your chests, and was like thunder in John’s ears. The rush of your blood through veins and your body trying to recover were like music to his ears. John kissed your shoulder, and sighed.

Neither of you spoke…no words to say or sound to make. A mutual silence.

Slowly, he drew away from you, and you found yourself feeling empty. Had you always been so empty?

He lay to your side and pulled you back against him like you used to embrace a pillow on stormy nights as a child.

It was only when he brought your hand up to his mouth to press a kiss there did you both notice that you still clutched his rosary; an imprint of its beads and cross evident in your palm.

“Amen.” He hummed and looked up at you softly.

You faintly smiled and he savoured the expression. A look of fondness.

There was a peculiar feeling inside you, and it wasn’t the way you ached from him or how warm you were. It lasted days as they passed, and only seemed to grow with the more kisses you shared.

When he would run his nose along your neck and hold your hips against him or when he would tilt his head down to you when in the middle of reading and taste your tongue with his if only for a moment.

But also when he would remain calm and honest when his hunger grew. When fear never returned to you. When you both would visit Hassan’s grave at night and he would tell you stories as you readied for bed.

It was the startling question of whether you wanted to stay. And what that would entail. When he had asked you just days ago about your wishes, you had of course wanted to see your family and travel, and in the depths of your heart you still wished to do those and more. But the longer Father John held you, the further those dreams seemed to be.

Would it be so horrible if you stayed? If you lived there forever with John Pruitt and rebuilt your routine there? Would it truly be sinful to alter Gods plan and will and give in to eternal life? Something you had so greatly feared?

Which was why you turned to John one night as he lay beside you. He held you in his arms and was waiting for you to fall asleep before feeding when you sighed.

“Father?” You asked.

He smiled, “You know you don’t ha-“

“Force of habit…forgive me.” You smiled a little too, “I…I’d like to stay.”

Johns brow pinched, “At the rectory? My dear I think we’re past-“

“No I mean…I mean here. On Crockett.” You murmured into his clavicle, and he took a steady breath, “I’m ready.”

He was quiet for a moment, then he nodded, “Alright.” He whispered and kissed your hair.

You thought he sounded pleased. In a way he was. Turmoil had been making his stomach sour as he dreaded that moment. Wondering what your choice would be. But as you said those words into his skin, it was as if a weight had been lifted.

This was his moment to set you free.

You fell asleep on him just as you had often now, and he let himself indulge in your sweet warmth for a while longer.

His last selfish act.

They say if you’re hungry enough, you’ll start to eat your own heart. John’s was gone long, long ago, with only a cavernous need to adore and worship left behind. He knew that one day his hunger would grow too much for his abilities to curb it, and he was not about to let you meet that same horrible fate.

He needed to do right by you.

For you, he would be better.

He knew that having you to hold each day and converse with and grieve with and laugh with would be a paradise, but he knew it wasn’t what you deserved. John hoped you would forgive him one day for what he would do.

But he knew it was what you needed, just not what you wanted.

He slipped from your grasp and found that bag that you counted as your home. He gathered all your little trinkets and books, and found that knife you had long forgotten about. John found his eyes start to prickle as he finished. Your little life in one bag all because of him.

Next, he sat as his desk, picked up his pen, and began to scrawl a note on a piece of paper.

What have I done…

John sighed and continued. His chest ached a terrible pain, and he feared it may fall right out of his chest. Of course it didn’t, but somehow he was certain the pain still wouldn’t have surpassed what he felt then.

He signed it, and folded the paper into his pocket, then he began writing another note entirely. This one he didn’t fold- instead this one would sit atop his desk for the time being.

Then, he picked your bag up and slung it over his back, and moved back to where you lay. It took him half an hour to sit you up gently and slip your coat on without you waking. He knew he didn’t have long. John finished dressing you- socks and boots and all- and hoisted you into his arms.

He forwent his own coat, and cast a look around the rectory to see any last reminders of you. There was only a cup in the sink from you. And he smiled at it.

With you tight against his chest, the Father left the rectory, and strode through the damp grass to the main road. The stones crunched under his boots, and he let his vast memory overtake him as he walked. Memories of seeing you that first morning when he returned. How he had danced with you; how he had looked forward to seeing you. How badly he wanted the best for you, and how poorly that had turned out. He thought of how wonderful it had felt when you finally let him help you…your smile, your kindness, your resilience, your intelligence, your selflessness. He let it all fill him up. John pressed a kiss to your head when you stirred a little, and shushed you until you settled.

His precious little lamb.

You didn’t even bleat as a wolf held you.

A chill brushed your cheeks as you awoke. There was a calm rock that soothed you and kept you just on the edge of opening your eyes. You nuzzled your face further into John’s chest , but something felt off. You sighed, and thought nothing of it until you realized it was your own arm that you were laying on.

And you were cold.

You jolted awake and sat up. Your eyes flickered around in a fright. Under you was a bench, and as you looked at your surroundings, there was water. You were on the Belle.

Alone.

A lump rose in your throat as you pushed yourself up and nearly tripped over your bag that was at your feet. You ran to the railing, and saw that you still weren’t too far from the marina. The next thing that dawned on you was that it was getting light out.

As you gripped the railing, you felt something dig into your hand, and when you looked down, you fought for breath.

“No…” you whispered, “No, no…”

Father Pruitt’s rosary was wrapped around your hand, securing a note to it.

You unwrapped it frantically, and opened the note with shaking hands. At first you didn’t look down at it as you began walking down the side of the boat to look back at the dock. A single tear broke free from your eye when you saw that familiar figure standing on the edge of the platform staring back at you.

You gasped for a breath, and finally began to read. But as you did, you had to fight against tears to see the elegant handwriting.

“Hello little one,

You may not understand now, but I need you to know that you are free now. You had always been sunshine, and you deserved to shine. I have been a selfish man for much of my life, but you would be my one selfless act.

You will find a church with a preacher who reminds you of God and lights your soul. See the world that is not shaped like Crockett Island and breathe in its splendour.

Look for me in solar eclipses, sweet girl; when the moon touches the sun just as you let me grace your glow. You might think of me in years to come as a dark time in your life…and know that I will indeed think of you.

You were a blessing.

You were everything.

Saying goodbye isn’t close to what I want to say, but it is what you need to hear.they say that the worst farewells are the ones unsaid and unexplained. I do not wish to give you any more grief. Which is why I must hurt you this one last time…then no more.

I am with you, sweet angel girl.

Always.

Yours,

John M. Pruitt”

Your head felt far too light at your body far too heavy. You felt bile rise against the lump of grief in your throat.

“John…” you whispered like you had never spoken before. You could barely hear yourself against the ringing in your ears. Then all at once, you realized how bright the sky was, and he wasn’t moving from his place on the dock.

You cried his name louder than you thought you could.

John stood, watching you from the pier.

You screamed his name.

You were terrified for him.

John knew he had to hurt you one last time. Just one. He needed you to never come back.

One more time and then you would be free. John knew better than anyone that grief was just love with nowhere else to go. It was bottled up and leaked out through your eyes and scraped at your esophagus.

“It’s alright, little one…” he whispered, “You don’t need me anymore.”

His dark eyes gleamed with tears that once would have been hot against his cheeks as they fell. Grief. Just love compressed with a cork.

You frantically looked from him to the thin white line that was beginning to form on the horizon as the sun rose. You saw him say something, and somehow you knew he was trying to comfort you.

“John!!! JOHN GO HOME!” You cried, anxiety starting to squeeze your throat, “Please!!”

You could see a fond smile on his face as he gazed at you, and he extended his arm in a wave as if to say “See you again old friend.”

Come back soon.

But you knew then that he had no intention of letting you see him again.

He was setting you free.

And John knew then.

He knew that when you finally passed and you drew your last breath, you would feel a spring breeze against your skin and smell fresh flowers and live in the sunlight for eternity.

But with that realization came his own fate. John knew that when he had enough, and he let his body burn, he would only awaken to the scent of scorched forests and stale air.

Much like the smell following the Easter vigil all those months go.

And John realized that he had indeed already been living in his own death all along.

His own personal hell.

And John remembered then how he had once compared you to a person trying to stay afloat in a body of water with nothing but hope to keep you going. But he saw then that you had never been near drowning; you had never been on the cusp of being dragged down into the depths of the ocean.

He had been the one astray.

And John saw that now, as the sun crested over the empty horizon.

So he took a breath…and let it out.

And he let the cold swell of his fate pull him under.

His eternity.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@littleredwritingcat @zaunite-leo @f4er1e-g1rl @purplemotif @vampyre-kin @hamishlinklaters @spacechupss @pansexualpamandabear @ebiemidnightlibrarian @erialuna @nilla-bear @vintageglassheart02 @ethanhoewke @dancingisdangerouss @cherrysugarx @daisychainsinknots @thesoundresoundsecho

[rileyslibrary]

hi babes!

could you write something for ghost x civillian or medic (fem)reader with a one bed trope? (something angsty + fluff?)

btw i really like your writings! keep up the great work, you're amazing!

thank you x

@efsa-lks , babe! 🍫 The good ol’ “there’s only one bed” trope! I was wondering if someone would request this! I kept it short and sweet ;)

“… there’s food in the fridge for both of you and plenty of ammo in the base-”

You stop reading Laswell’s note and look up at Ghost. He stares back at you with narrow eyes and gestures for you to continue.

“-ment. Unfortunately, though, there’s only...”

“No,” he interrupts you, shaking his head, “no fockin’ way.”

“-one bed, so you’ll have to share.”

He runs towards you and extends his hand. “Gimme the bloody paper.” He orders and snatches it from your fingers.

His eyes jump from word to word, eagerly looking for a possible mistake. He finishes reading, throws the “bloody paper” on the kitchen table and heads to the bedroom to verify Laswell’s words.

You sigh. Why is he so grumpy all the damn time? It’s just for a night, and it’s not like you’ll cuddle like newlyweds. He’s too offensive sometimes.

“So?” You shout from the kitchen and hear his footsteps approaching. They’re slow and sound... defeated.

He leans on the door’s frame and looks up. “Affirmative.” He says, disappointed, “There’s only one bed.”

You follow him to the bedroom and stare at the single bed before you. You scratch your head, imagining two Tetris blocks trying to puzzle their way across the bed without disturbing each other. He rubs his temples as if he’s sending brain waves to the bed so it can split in two and magically solve your problem.

“What if-”

“Don’t you dare mention it.” You stop him.

“I didn’t-”

“You were going to suggest sleeping in reverse, my head looking at your feet and vice versa,” you sneer, “but it’s been done before.”

“Where?”

“In another fic.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

His mask stretches, and you can tell he has his mouth open. You take a deep breath and let it all out before suggesting something else far worse than the one he proposed.

“Ever heard of spooning?” You hesitate.

His mouth closes, and the expression gets transferred to his eyes. “Are you having a laugh?” He asks, shocked, and you put your hands up.

“Stay with me, Ghost.”

“Can’t do much about that,” he mutters, “we’ll practically sleep together.”

You rub your forehead and continue. “I’ll be the big spoon,” you explain. “This way, you won’t feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I won’t feel uncomfortable?” He repeats your statement and points at himself, “Don’t tell me that I’m the only one who’s feeling that.”

You frown and bring your index finger to the tip of his nose.

“You know what,” you say, “I’m tired of your shit; tired of walking on eggshells, trying to keep some peace between us and not disturb you.”

He raises his eyebrows and breathes in. He wants to say something, but you’re too angry to hear it.

“I saved you, for god’s sake,” you press your finger on his chest, “I saved your ass last year when I patched that bullet hole in that chest of yours. And all you do is keep treating me like shit.” You say, removing your hand from him and walking towards the door. His eyes follow you until he decides to speak.

“Small,” he says but stops. He doesn’t even believe what he’s about to say. “Small spoon it is, then.”

You pause just outside the door, and a smile forms across your lips. Can it be that he finally came to his senses? Took him long enough, you think. Or maybe he just needed a reality check. You shake the satisfaction off your face and turn to look at him with a disinterested look.

“Which side?” You ask, “Left or right?”

“Left side,” he replies. “I have to keep an eye on the window.”

He assumes position first, and you lie behind him, your forehead brushing his back. As the “big spoon,” you mimic his stance, attaching yourself to him like a mould. He is stiff and awkward, trying to take as little space as possible and failing miserably.

But it’s not just the two of you in this bed. He’s not the littlest spoon. He holds his gun in front of him since he needs to be on the lookout in case someone locates you.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t-”

“I want—I need to protect you,” he corrects himself, “and I’m the only one who knows how to use a gun, so we must stick together.”

“Isn’t this ‘sticking together’ enough for you?” You ask, and his shoulders move up and down. He’s laughing.

“Thank you,” he says, “for saving me back then.”

“It’s my job.”

“And for keeping up with me,” he continues, “I know I’m not the easiest.”

“No, you’re not,” you reply, “but you’re my big-little spoon.” You coo and wrap an arm around his waist.

He freezes at first but lets out another chuckle, this one more audible than the last one, and grabs your hand. He brings it to his chest, where that bullet wound used to be, and secures it under his arm.

“Fork you, little-big spoon,” he quips, and turns off the night lamp.

[cinnamostar]

four dates to fall in love

part one. part two. part three. part four (here). part five. part six coming soon.

pairing : hyunjin x gn!reader

summary : after a two year long unspoken hatred, hyunjin and you are forced to be costars in a romantic series, but when it comes to filming any of the romance scenes, you both utterly fail and are unable to get through your lines. the director threatens to take your roles away if you two aren't able to get past this within the next week, which spawns the genius idea from both your managers: can you learn to (fake) fall in love in seven dates and save your careers?

wc : 2.7k

cw : actor!au, enemies to lovers ?!, slowburn , not proofread, blood/knife ments (no injury, theyre just cooking lol), emotional vulnerability

a/n : welcome to part four. the slow burn is absolutely slowburning. things are happening. i dont have much to say other than it being hard for me to write, but pls let me know what you think!!!!!! likes and reblogs appreciated!

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“It went well?” Chan exclaimed in shock over your speakerphone.

You hum in agreement, confusion in the forefront of your mind, “Surprisingly, it went better than I could have ever imagined,” a sigh escapes you, “I don’t know, it’s weird.”

“Well, the fact he even apologized caught me off guard in the first place.”

You laugh lightly, “Oh, trust me, I still am having a hard time believing it. It’s been so long of him being an asshole to me, so seeing him like this was… very different. A little scary, if I’m being honest.”

“Yet it still went well even though it was kinda weird?”

“I mean, it was really awkward at the start which was annoying, but I can’t blame him. He genuinely did look like he felt bad, so it probably was hard to be in his position,” you think aloud, “But it was getting too much and he was putting a damper on the mood, so I tried to make him more comfortable, which worked. Then we started talking, and I don’t really know how to say it, but it felt… really nice? It made me realize that maybe I did miss our friendship.”

“Well, you guys did get along really well before everything happened. To be honest, I thought there was something more going on before then,” Chan recalls, “Though, his sudden change made me realize I was way off.”

Your eyebrows furrow at Chan’s comment, “Something more? Like romantic?”

He chuckles from the other end of the line, “Yeah, I thought something was going on between you two. You guys just seemed to click really well, better than any other costar you’ve had in the past, even to this day. Lowkey thought it was going to be a Tom Holland and Zendaya moment.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, “Definitely not that, I never thought of him that way.”

“You say that, but I remember the heart eyes you used to look at him with,” he teases.

“Oh, shut up. I did not. Besides, that’s not what’s important in the present time!”

He rolls his eyes, even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel it in his tone, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. You’re right though, it is a difficult situation for both of you to be in. Other than it being uncomfortable, how are you feeling about it?”

You let out a heavy sigh, “I mean, part of me is happy to be able to have a normal relationship with him, but… I’m still really mad at him for how he treated me. I don’t think it’s something I can let go of yet.”

“That’s okay. You have time to process all of that, no one is rushing you.”

“I know, but for a moment yesterday, I kinda forgot about all that. I had fun with him, and I want to keep having fun, but then I remember everything and feel so… upset that I am even letting him back into my life, even if it's for a bit.”

“Huh…” Chan muddles over your words for a moment, “That is quite the dilemma. I think you have every right to be upset at him, but I also think it’s okay if you miss your friend. I just think you have to figure out what kind of boundaries you want to set for yourself then. I think you can still have a nice time with him without him earning your forgiveness just yet. He can be a surface level friend or acquaintance until he proves himself trustworthy again.”

“You’re right, but I just didn’t like how easily it slipped my mind. Part of me feels like I should still be more on guard and not as friendly, but he makes that hard too.”

“Y/N, it’ll be okay,” he reassures, “You’ll figure it out, but it’s perfectly fine for you to have fun, while still having boundaries, okay?”

You sigh, still a bit unconvinced by his words, “I guess…”

“I know it’s hard, I can’t imagine what it's like to be in your position, but I promise it will be okay.”

“I’ll believe you just this once!”

“You say that every time, but sure, just this once. Call you tomorrow, alright?”

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It was the next evening, and you were anxiously waiting in your apartment for Hyunjin to arrive. You weren’t sure how today was going to go, and the idea Changbin had for you both today made you nervous, as it felt as a far more intimate setting than the previous dates. Although, you couldn’t entirely argue with his logic. Today, he suggested that you both cooked a simple dinner with each other, the idea being that it would help you both learn how to work together towards a common goal, which was dinner in this case.

Despite you being able to understand the logic behind his idea, it was incredibly intimidating to think about having Hyunjin in your own home, especially considering the sudden change in dynamic in your relationship. Even then, you didn’t just let anyone into your home, as you only ever had your closest friends come over for small hang outs, so this was far outside of your comfort zone, but perhaps that was a good thing. Maybe going out of your comfort zone with Hyunjin would only help you both succeed the next time you found yourselves on set, and perhaps something as intimate as cooking together would help you both ease into your roles.

A knock on the door wakes you from your thoughts, prompting you to shuffle hurriedly towards the door to open it for none other than Hyunjin. He greets you with a gentle smile, bowing his head slightly as you let him in wordlessly. There is an awkwardness that hangs in the atmosphere, indicating that you both were uncomfortable with today’s plans and he, too, was likely struggling to find the right words to say.

You take a deep breath in, almost as if you were catching your breath, “Welcome to my place!” You cringe internally at yourself, unable to handle the intensity of the awkwardness between you two and how poor your attempt was to disperse it.

“It’s really nice!” he compliments, standing in place by the entrance after removing his shoes.

“Thank you,” you respond, “Uhm, just follow me, the kitchen is this way. And all the ingredients are ready for us to use, Changbin had them delivered.”

Hyunjin follows you into the kitchen, his eyes taking in every detail around him, filling him with delight to see how characteristic of you the apartment was, it being a perfect representation of your personality. “What are we making again? I don’t think Changbin filled me in.”

“Oh, we’re just making curry udon! It’s something I’ve made before and it’s not too hard. My bad, I didn’t tell Changbin what we were making which is probably why he didn’t tell you. All I did was send him an ingredient list.”

“I forgot you like cooking,” he replies as he stops in your kitchen, quickly turning to the sink to wash his hands.

You hum in response, washing your hands after him, “I think it can be relaxing, but uh, if you want you can start with chopping the carrots and potatoes? I’ll handle the onion and garlic.” Hyunjin nods and follows your orders without much trouble, or so you think, until you turn around and see him holding the knife in a very precarious and questionable manner. Your eyes widen as you rush towards, “Oh my god, that is not how you should be trying to cut a potato. Have you not chopped a veggie in your entire life?”

He smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders, “Listen, I don’t do this cooking thing often,” a gentle chuckle leaving him as he takes amusement in your concern, his heart thumping over the sudden proximity you both now shared.

“I-,” you sigh with a baffled expression, “Okay, let me just show you because I am not having you accidentally bleeding out all over my counter.” 

“You’re more worried about your counters than me?”

“Shut up,” you suppress a laugh before softly whispering, “Here, just do it like this,” you reach over and lay your hands atop of his without second thought, guiding him on how to position his hands without the risk of injury. Once you’ve become aware of how your bodies are pressed up against each other from the side, you jump away in an instant, “That’s it! That’s all you gotta do.” You’re quick to avoid eye contact with him, turning towards your own cutting board as you chastise yourself for being so careless with him at that moment.

Hyunjin’s face and ears were soon dusted with a soft pink, heat rushing across his body over the interaction that seemed so natural, but manages to mutter out a quiet ‘thank you’ before trying his knife skills out once more. Despite your momentary embarrassment, you are sure to take sneaky peaks at Hyunjin to make sure he was handling himself well. You move on from chopping and turn your attention to seasoning the chicken while Hyunjin was still focused on the vegetables, going at a leisurely place which you much preferred in this case. 

The rest of cooking goes on in silence aside from the occasional instruction or question, small witty jokes, and touches that seemed to linger more than necessary, but perhaps that was your imagination. Once everything was done, you both sat across from each other, admiring the fruits of your shared labor that was now plated in front of you both. 

“It looks really good!” Hyunjin comments enthusiastically, a wide, toothy grin spreading across his face. 

“It does, right? Let’s eat!”

Neither you miss a beat, taking a huge bite of the udon noodles, letting out a delighted groan over just how flavorful the food was. “Woah,” Hyunjin groans out, surprise at how well tonight had gone thus far with the added victory of food, “Holy shit, this is so yummy.”

“Mhmm,” you mumble out between slurping noodles, “This is better than when I make it on my own.”

“It’s the Hyunjin special that you’ve been missing this whole time,” he says matter-of-factly with a smug smile.

“You’re being pretty bold for a guy who just learned how to hold a knife today,” you tease, playfully sticking your tongue out. Your eyes catch each other for a moment between your fits of giggles, time stopping for the briefest second possible before you both avert your eyes out of nerves. What was that? You thought frantically to yourself, suddenly hyper aware of the strange warmth in your stomach that was also accompanied with the feeling of your stomach dropping. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one you didn’t know how to explain or ever experienced before, but you did know you didn’t want that combination of symptoms again for whatever emotion this was. You clear your throat, taking a sip of water as if it would wash away the discomfort, “I guess we are pretty good, huh? Maybe our acting project has hope if we are able to work this well together,” you joke, a very poor, if not disastrous, attempt to alleviate the awkwardness that seemed to follow you everywhere these days.

Your words stab Hyunjin in the heart, the guilt he had once forgotten was knocking at the door of his heart, forcing itself in without his permission. His entire demeanor deflated the moment those words left your lips, his heart writhing at the reminder that the only reason this situation existed was because of him and his blinding stupidity. Yet, here you are, warmly inviting into your home and treating him as if he was an old friend of the past, as if he had never wounded you and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was deserving of any of this. He stood still, gulping down his food before faintly whispering a hushed apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Your head snaps back up, your eyebrows furrowing with worry once you sense the sadness lacing his trembling voice, his head now turned downwards as if he was trying to mask his state. Perhaps the joke was a little too soon, you thought, now it being your turn to feel bad. “Ah, Hyunjin, I’m sorry-” you apologize hurriedly, “It was just a joke, please don’t take it too seriously. I’m sorry.”

He forces a smile, waving his hand as if to tell you to not worry about it, the words at the forefront of his tongue, but caught in his throat due to the heaviness sinking in his chest. Once again, shame paralyzed his body, the warm sensation behind his eyes reminding him to blink, reminding him he shouldn’t be so selfish in his pain when he was the cause of so much discomfort. Was any of this okay? Was any of this right? He wonders to himself, still unable to find forgiveness within himself. 

“Hyunjin,” you speak tenderly, your hand reaching across the table to touch his arm, grounding him back in the present, “I promise, it’s okay.” You knew that last bit was a lie, but it was for his own sake and comfort at this point. His treatment, his behavior, his attitude – none of it was ever okay, but you decided to ignore your own feelings and prioritize his. For the first time in two years, you cared about how he felt, you finally cared how your words harmed him, when before all you ever aimed for was a strike to his heart, but today, you chose to comfort his heart that your words unintentionally wounded. Although, your own heart and conscience briefly argued for a moment, one wanting to tend to his hurt, while the other demanded you let him rot in his misery, insisting he deserved it for what he had put you through. It was a tug-of-war you weren’t enjoying, you had almost wished you two remained in your heated hatred for one another and that nothing ever changed. Despite what your mind screamed at you, you chose to listen to your heart, you chose him over yourself.

He takes a deep breath in, trying to collect himself before speaking, “I just–,” a heavy exhale escapes him, “I’m just sorry. I just feel really, really, really bad for everything, but I also feel like I’m not allowed to feel bad when I was the one to hurt you.”

His eyes met yours, the glassiness of his eyes conveying the depth of his guilt, “Oh, Hyunjin,” you whisper apologetically, “Listen, I won’t lie to you, what you did was shitty. You did hurt me, but that is in the past. You feeling bad about it means you’re a good person, right? It means you’re human and that you care, but I don’t want you to let your guilt overwhelm you either.”

It was a genuine response in a moment of sudden vulnerability, your response taking him aback, but the words temporarily placating his never ending thoughts, “I guess, but… I don’t know if I can forgive myself,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to yet, but you can learn to eventually,” you reply, “I understand it’s hard, and even I still need more time to do that myself, but I do think you deserve to be kind to yourself.” None of that was a lie, you did truly believe he was deserving of his own compassion, but his culpability helped you see the humanity in him. The spitefulness you once knew him for nowhere to be found, but instead there was only a guilt-ridden man who carried a world of humiliation. “I think I can learn to do so soon, too. Spending time with you helps. Besides, I did miss being friends with you if I’m being honest.”

The last sentence causes him to perk up, a small, satisfied smile playing onto your lips, “Really?” he asks, his ears barely believing your words, but his heart was swelling with hope. His eyes search yours, he can’t help but notice how they glimmer under the soft lowlights of your home, and for some reason, he finds warmth and comfort in them. He knows he can trust you, he knows you are being as candor as possible.

“Really, I mean it.”

“I missed it too.”

“Well, I’ll do my best to learn to trust you again. I’ll learn to forgive you eventually, just for now, it still hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll learn too.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

taglist: @kopikokrunch @icouldntcareless22 @kidrauhlschik @hhwangsmoon @lestayzone @vixensss @cupidcures @sleepyxxhead @pinkpunkdynamite @kaiyaba taglist cut off at 20 people :)

[shanastoryteller]

Happy pride! Can you write more of that god!Zagreus fic?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Thanatos guides Megara to the place known as the Prince’s Court, stepping into the throne room to see his dark head and fiery laurels bent over a long table. Clustered around him are those whom he used to rest amongst battling his way through the underworld – not just Sisyphus, but the nymph Eurydice and the warrior Patroclus.

Barely more than acquaintances, really, and yet Zagreus has folded them into his confidence, a confidence extended neither to him nor Megara. Again.

He does not tell them when he intends to escape the underworld nor does he tell them when he cracks it open and burrows into a place of his own making. What did those three do that he hadn’t?

Zagreus looks over, smiles, then sees Meg and frowns. Instead of addressing her, he turns to Patroclus and says, “We might as well just tell Achilles outright at this point. If we’re not quick about it he’ll find out from someone else, which is probably best to be avoided.”

“I think it would serve him right, actually,” Patroclus answers, a small smile curling around the edges of his mouth.

Megara lets out a shriek, angry enough to earn her status as a Fury on that alone, and launches herself at Zagreus whips first.

Everyone else scatters, even Patroclus backing up with his hands raised even though he’s a good enough warrior to at least slow Megara down. Thanatos thinks uncharitable thoughts about loyalty to their god and king even though the truth of it is that they’re smart enough to keep from being dragged into the middle of a lover’s quarrel.

Zagreus lets the whips hit him and yet for once he does not bleed.

No rich mortal blood falls from his skin, instead the whips slamming into him and then sliding off.

“Meg, don’t be mad,” he says soothingly. “I just didn’t want to put you in an awkward position-”

“You’re not bleeding,” she says blankly, her rage banked by confusion.

He glances down on his arms. “Oh, oops. Do you want me to? I can, but also we could talk this out.”

“Or move the battle to somewhere that won’t harm my architecture,” Sisyphus pipes up. Eurydice elbows him, looking horrified, while Patroclus just remains amused.

Zagreus inclines his head in their direction. “Or that.”

“Don’t give me a reason to start with you,” Megara hisses at Sisyphus. “Zagreus, what the fuck is happening? What’s with you?” She storms forward to grab his arm, yanking it around, searching his skin for some break. “You’ve always bled. Even when we were children.”

He softens, offering his wrist to her mouth and her very sharp teeth.

Megara grips it, dragging it forward and biting into him as if he’s the first bite of a feast and she’s starving.

Zagreus winces, but leaves his wrist in her mouth. Thanatos feels warm and uncomfortable all over, something intimate there that he always avoids seeing between them. She releases him and her teeth are red with his blood and blood falls down his arm in rivulets. “I’m still me. I still bleed. I just have a little bit more control over it these days. I’m the god of blood. I’m made to bleed.”

[boy-cow000]

Nervous

Newt x gn!Reader

A/N: This is technically my first real fanfic so pretty exited to share! Too bad its kinda for a dead fandom. Inspired by that one audio

Word count: 692

———————————————————————————

“Do I make you nervous?"

He said. As if it were the easiest thing in the world to say. As if that sentence alone couldn’t just end you right where you stood. As if you weren’t already head over heels for him. So pliable, he could just look at you, and you would bend to his command.

Part of you thought that Newt must’ve known what he was doing to you. It almost felt a little planned on his part. The mellowness of the hastily put-up fairy lights, the bumbling atmosphere of people getting a little more than tipsy off of Gally’s special drink, and the way he was dressed—it must’ve been all just to poke fun at you, right? As he spoke, you couldn’t help but look him up and down. His white cotton shirt draped across his collarbones with a gap, giving you a slight view of his chest and stomach. Too close, you thought.

An awkward silence hit the both of you as you realized that you probably needed to answer. All you could muster was a curt no with a slightly offended intonation.

Newt laughed.

He shifted back into his previous position, a little further from you. You couldn’t really tell whether or not he was satisfied with your answer. His half-decent attempt at continuing the conversation only confused you further. What you hadn’t known was that that question hadn’t come out of nowhere. In reality, Newt was genuinely nervous about the way you acted around him. He hadn’t meant to sound like an overconfident douche, but he didn’t know how else to introduce it into the conversation. From the moment he met you, you had always been kind of avoidant of him. Always staying behind other people when talking to a large group or running off when you two were finally alone. You never really interacted with him directly, and when you did speak, he was usually the one talking.

Newt just wanted to know.

He often compared how you talked with others to the way you talked to him. You were strong, reliable, and kind. You were also relatively social, which is what baffled him the most. So then, why were you so uncomfortable around him? Was he that repulsive?

Tonight was probably the first time in a long time that you didn’t find a lame excuse to run away from him with. He was determined to get his answer. He couldn’t keep letting it eat him alive the way it did. He spent too much of his waking hours thinking about his effect on you.

"No, but really, I know I’m being a bit repetitive, but do I make you nervous?"

“No?! Why would you make me nervous?”

“Well… You keep running away every time I enter the same room as you. Not to mention how you can't seem to look me in the eyes when we are talking.” Newt reassured you that if you weren't comfortable with eye contact or just didn’t like him, then that was totally fine; he just needed to know.

Your heart tore at that. How could he ever assume that you didn’t like him? You knew that your actions had been less than pleasurable towards him, but that was in no way a means to make him feel bad. You couldn’t keep it in longer.

"You do make me nervous.”

Newt’s face tensed, his shoulders perked up, and he readjusted himself to be facing you. The more you explained yourself, however, the more his expression softened. You confessed as quickly as you could, words cascading out as if they were unwanted to begin with. By the time you finished, you were staring at the floor so intensely that you could burn a hole through it.

You didn’t see it, but Newt was beaming. He was more than happy to know that you didn’t have a real issue with him. And after all this time spent thinking nonstop about you, he wasn’t against keeping you in his mind a bit longer.

He had gotten his answer, and now there was nothing holding him back from developing feelings of his own.

[seijorhi]

Tendou and Ushijima are such scary yanderes! Tendou cause he's already kinda insane and Ushijima is like a brick wall when he puts his mind to something.  

i feel like ushiwaka's the type of guy that could pretty easily convince you to start a relationship with him. cuz let's face it he's stupidly attractive, a crazy talented volleyballer and an olympic medalist (to me) to boot, and he's not actually a dick, he's just a little intense. blunt. some might say slightly awkward.

but at the start of it all, you don't see the red flags. you like ushijima. he's surprisingly attentive for an athlete playing at his level, which you weren't really expecting but it makes you feel special. wanted.

and then you meet his friends. tendou, specifically.

the thing is, wakatoshi's kind of a possessive guy. not jealous, exactly. he's not glaring down every guy that dares to look at you that's just his face and throwing punches, he's not even that big on PDA, he just likes it when you're close, when he's got his hand wrapped in yours or resting on your thigh. he enjoys that physical touch, a tangible reminder that you're there, you're his.

he doesn't take it well when other people try it.

tendou, apparently, is an exception to that rule.

while you've been walking around with rose tinted glasses this whole time, ushiwaka's got full on blinders on – at least where his high school bestie's concerned. he almost growled the other night when eita went in for a hug hello, but he's sitting right next to you, seemingly unbothered by the redhead practically draping himself over you, the long fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

you'd knocked his hand away – he keeps sliding it back.

not wanting to make a fuss, you'd kept your mouth shut, only bringing it up with wakatoshi later, when it was just the two of you. but he shrugs, like it's no big deal – no, like he doesn't understand what the issue is to begin with. why you're uncomfortable with tendou being friendly.

and so you drop it. maybe you are reading too much into it. tendou's an odd guy, maybe that's just how he is and you haven't known him long enough to get accustomed to it.

except it gets worse. it's uncomfortable and a little creepy. you're out for drinks one night at a bar, and when you come out of the bathroom, tendou's right there, almost caging you in. it's always a joke, or you think that's what he's aiming for, because he wears that same too wide, glittering grin and laughs when you get flustered and uncomfortable.

he shows up at your job to drive you home when wakatoshi's held up with training. lets himself into your place to 'hang out' while you wait for your boyfriend to get home. always staring. amused, apparently, by the six feet of distance you seem determined to keep between you and him.

the next time you go to one of wakatoshi's games, he's got tickets too, his seat right next to yours, and spends the match with his arm slung over the back of your seat, playing with your hair and asking whether you let your boyfriend cum inside you before the game started. y'know, for good luck.

it's too much. you've tried to talk to ushijima about it but you might as well be talking to a brick wall. in the end, you make a choice.

you like ushijima, you even think there might've been a future there, but if being with him means letting yourself be subjected to tendou's friendliness, then it's not worth it.

when you explain this to him, however, trying to break it gently, you see an odd stoniness cross over his features. the hand enveloping yours tightens for a beat, bordering on painful, before he exhales. 'you want to break up with me?'

swallowing, you nod. it's not what you want, really, but you're not going to keep putting yourself in this position. you're not going to be uncomfortable in your own relationship – and you're not going to have a third party involved at all.

'yeah.'

he breathes in, a muscle in his jaw ticking, and when he speaks, when he looks at you with dark, flinty eyes, there's nothing but iron determination, 'no.'

[softboo]

love me, ever so gently - part III

pairing: austin x reader

summary: you recently moved to a new apartment, making some new eccentric friends along the way. but what you didn't expect was falling in love with a stranger. a stranger you somehow couldn't stop thinking about

words: 2.3k

warning: depictions of alcohol, dark themes of domestic abuse in relationships, *minors please don't interact*

author's note: hii here's part III of the story!! this one was a lot of fun to make omg and it wasn't even supposed to go this way at all... it kinda just happened lmfaoo. i'm already writing the next part heh. but yeah, it truly means the world to me that you guys read these stories. like it really warms my heart, so thank you. hope you enjoy <3

previous part // next part

part III

"he's being abused cassie," you wanted to be straightforward on the topic, especially with how delicate the issue was. you thought she would say something, but she paused. like the weight of your words were slowly sinking in. the realization and the possibility landing right in front of her.

you were just afraid she wouldn't see it.

and she didn't.

"sweetie, what makes you say that? he seems fine."

for the past few weeks, austin started attending more events. the cooking class being one of his favorites. you no longer sat with him anymore, feeling awkward every time you spoke to each other. the silence became so deafening that you soon changed partners. but a part of you always seemed to wonder how he was doing. if he had any new bruises. if he was still healing from past injuries. if his pain was still there.

and if he was genuinely okay.

from someone who knew nothing, like the rest of your friends, he seemed to be doing amazing. and he was pretty good at keeping that front up.

maybe he found a way to put his guard up even more after you.

you all were spending dinner in the kitchen; evelyn taking her proper position as cook, insisting on making everything by scratch. it took a long time to convince her that george was there to help and when she did accept, he never left her side. making sure she had every ingredient ready.

he genuinely looked like he was a cook working for the head chef, but you and cassandra both knew he was mainly doing it for the food.

"i promise you cassie, he's not okay."

"if he wasn't okay dear, then why is he coming here to spend dinner with us?"

your eyes widened at the news, which made cassandra smile.

"you invited him?" panic started to rise up to your throat, "but why?"

"george invited him because his girlfriend is out of town for two weeks. he's going to be alone and no one deserves to be alone at a time like this."

you gritted your teeth, the thought of seeing him again after so long and now he was spending dinner with your friends made you feel slightly uncomfortable by the idea. not because you didn't want to see him, but moreso because your heart was so desperate to talk to him again.

"cassie, his girlfriend is the problem. he's probably so excited that she's gone, which is why he's attending more events."

"my love, listen to me." she took your hands from across the table, eyeing you with such intent and comfort that she let out a sigh.

"you know why i don't believe you?"

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not knowing where she was going with this.

"because i know how you feel about him," she waited for your reaction, but all you did was blink at her. "let's say this is true, the girlfriend is an abuser, then what?"

"then we help him right?"

"sure dear, but you need to ask yourself if you're doing that because you care about him or because you like him."

you bit your lip. why did there have to be a difference? you can care about someone right?

"and if it's the latter, you need to wait and see if he'll reach out to you. because again, he is taken."

that last part stung because it was true. some little part of your heart thought that maybe, just maybe, if he left his girlfriend, you could come in and be everything he deserved.

but it wasn't that easy. and he wasn't single.

"elvis my boy!! elvis is in the building!!" george exclaimed as austin arrived, wearing a black suit blazer. his blonde hair was styled in a way that looked messy, but accentuated his curls. and his eyes had oceans again, overflowing with life.

but what got you was his smile. he looked genuinely happy, embracing george into a tight hug. something george wasn't used to since he was always the one initiating, but he was all for it.

and for the first time, you doubted yourself and your theory. maybe cassandra was right.

maybe he really was okay.

austin went around to evelyn, who soon grew fond of him as her little cooking mentee. austin learning dinner dishes to desserts from all the classes he attended.

"the food smells lovely evelyn," his lower tone enveloped your heart and you hated how much he really did affect you. evelyn thanked him for his kind compliment.

"austin come and sit, the table is already made." cassandra offered the chair next to you and you panicked once more.

"hi again," his voice was smooth as he maneuvered his way around you to sit at the chair on your left. something about his tone and the way he held himself now felt like he was a stranger to you. like the guy you met before wasn't him at all.

or maybe a part of you saw him as broken and thought that you could be the one to fix him.

but your heart still stuck to that possibility. that this was all a front somehow. but you had no real reason to follow that thought. all you had was that pull on your heart.

"i like your suit," you gave him a weak smile as he thanked you kindly, pressing against the little wrinkled areas and loosening his jacket and tie.

"i just came back from dropping my girlfriend off at the airport so... i'm all yours for two weeks." he exclaimed, leaning back in his chair. your heart fluttered when he said that, but you knew it wasn't what he really meant.

evelyn and george placed the food on the table, a beautiful dinner feast for all of you. cassandra followed suit with the rest of the desserts as george popped up from his chair, running to get something.

"we forgot the wine!" he screamed from the hallway, hobbling back with two bottles. he eagerly poured an outrageous amount of wine in everyone's glass, left standing to offer a toast.

"to our new friend elvis," his toothy grin wide and proud as everyone raised their glass too. austin getting flustered as he tried to turn down the compliment, but evelyn insisted.

"and to my first cooking mentee, who i am so proud of," evelyn added, squeezing austin's cheeks. he laughed and you weren't sure why that sound hurt you.

you were the last to raise your glass as everyone cheered.

something about him being a part of the group should be celebrated, but you didn't know why it felt so painful. why him being a part of your life was hurting you.

or why him being happy killed you.

maybe because you wanted to be a part of that in his life, but knowing you couldn't be.

by the time you were done flooding yourself with all your conflicting thoughts, the dinner ended and all that was left was the chocolate cake in the center of the table. and you, picking at the icing with your fork.

you didn't remember anyone saying goodbye though, which made you feel even worse. you weren't exactly sure how much wine you drank either, considering your glass was empty. but you could've sworn it was full just a few minutes ago.

and then you saw him, coming back to your table. his blazer long gone and just his white dress shirt underneath. he looked disheveled but in a good way. something that showed he had a good time with his friends, which he did. he just wasn't sure if he remembered all of it.

"you want to bring the cake upstairs?" his voice felt like a blanket around you.

you looked at him with such confusion because... why would a kitchen have an upstairs?

"upstairs? why am i going upstairs?"

"because you need to go to bed."

"but i don't want to go to your apartment."

and his cheeks flushed red at your firm decision, feeling suddenly embarrassed for what you assumed. he did offer his arms for you to hold onto though, but you were hesitant to take it.

"i'm taking you back to your bed."

you sat there quietly, like you were debating whether or not to trust him. but you couldn't feel your legs so you had no other choice. and he smiled at you as you sat there and contemplated.

it wasn't long until he made the first move, wrapping his arm around your waist to hold you up while the other hand made sure you draped your arm around his shoulder. it felt like you were floating off the ground, either you were so far gone now or he was a lot taller than you thought.

when you reached the elevator, he struggled with keeping you upright, multiple failed attempts along the way of you falling forward, which made him almost lose his balance. it was like trying to walk without knowing where to go and not feeling the ground beneath you.

austin finally made it to your door as he tried to fumble through your bag for your key, while you nodded off for a split second. he kept one hand on your head, placing you as close to his chest as possible so you wouldn't fall over again, which made you blush immensely. your arms limply fell around his neck and he didn't mind at all, not even reacting to the way you fit right into the crook of his neck. your face surrounded by the smell of his cologne and little wavy pieces of his hair. you wished you could stay here forever.

"you smell really nice austin..." your words slurring with wine in your breathe. "can i have your cologne?"

"of course you can."

he couldn't help but laugh, which felt like a sympathy in your ears.

he finally found your key, opening the door for you. he slowly let you move first as he followed suit, trying to hold on to the sliver of soberness he had left in him.

it wasn't until you saw your living room that you excitedly left the comfort of his arms and screamed at your furniture.

"oh my gosh... YOU HAVE THE SAME APARTMENT AS ME!!" you squealed, turning back around to pull him into a hug, almost knocking him back outside. he held you for a moment, convincing himself that this was the alcohol talking.

this was just the wine.

"we're in your apartment love," he remarked and you let go all of a sudden and he felt the emptiness with it.

"oh."

your voice sounded so heartbroken that he almost felt bad for smiling at you.

"then why are you in my apartment?"

"because i need to make sure you get to bed okay." the alcohol still wavering a bit in his balance as he tried to maneuver you towards what he assumed was your bedroom. and he assumed correctly.

"i can do it on my own." you protested, finding your bed covers. you felt the softness of your blanket before you collapsed onto the bed, letting out a long awaited sigh. your eyes closed as you tried to ignore him. him and your overly excited heart.

"do you want to change first?"

you perked your head up and suddenly felt the room spinning. you were adament in saying yes, but you couldn't move your legs again.

"go away. i can do it by myself." you whined, slowly getting up and then collapsing on the floor, giggling.

austin just looked at you, holding in a laugh. you tried to push him out of your room and it actually worked, but only because he fell over outside.

"and you stay outside until i'm done." you ordered, your voice stern but slurred.

getting dressed drunk was probably one of the most difficult tasks you had to do at this very moment. and you haven't drank like this since college so you were mixing which part of your shirt was meant for your arm and your head.

by the time you finally had yourself dressed, you opened the door to see austin lying on the ground. his eyes closed, sound asleep.

"austin..." you whispered, crouching over him. the alcohol making you see double for a moment before using the floor to ground you. "austin, you can't sleep here."

he fluttered his eyes open as he gazed back at you. oceans engulfing you in endless waves. his hair all messy now as he just looked at you with such intrigue. it was so inviting.

he was so inviting.

you could've done anything, but you couldn't. you knew you couldn't.

but he was just laying there, gazing up at you like he's never seen you before. like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

you wanted to caress his cheek, play with his hair, tell him he could stay.

but you couldn't.

it broke your heart that you couldn't have him. that he was with someone else.

you mustered enough courage, enough strength for the both of you, and whispered ever so softly to him.

"thank you for taking care of me..." your words blending into each other, feeling as if you were so far away from him.

and without thinking, you let your hand fall on his cheek, moving the little strands of hair that fell onto his face. like it was something natural that you've done for years.

and he closed his eyes to your touch.

you started to tear up, pulling everything you had left in you just to smile at him. that somehow he needed reassurance for your heartbreak.

"your girlfriend is so unbelievably lucky to have you austin," your voice breaking at the end, wanting to so desperately do something. do anything.

but all you did was collapse on the floor next to him, your body feeling limp from all the alcohol. he hardly moved from where he was, your words sinking slowly into his chest.

the weight of everything settling into him.

and for the first time, you were the reason why his oceans went dry.