#why is it always the ARTS that fucking suffer

[flowersandskeletons526]

"When We All Come Home Alive" - Ajax/Rembrandt fic for the Warriors Concept Album

Okay so this is my first fic in two years so please be nice to me. This was written in a night because I absolutely could not get this out of my head. Enjoy!

-----

“Rembrandt, you gotta get up.”

Rembrandt did not want to get up. Lying on Cleon’s couch with her back to the room, she barely had the strength to shake her head. It had been two months since that awful night fleeing through the city, two months since Ajax was arrested, two months since they lost Fox and a little over a month since her funeral. Rembrandt found the strength to make her way to the service and give her eulogy but that was it. Cleon had been taking all the calls from Ajax. She ran messages between them like a long-suffering mediator because Rembrandt loved Ajax and everyone knew that but she was still so fucking mad. No matter how many times she tried to convince herself that she knew why Ajax went after the undercover cop, she couldn’t excuse what an absolute braindead decision it was.

She’d been furious and devastated and grief stricken and once all that anger finally faded, she was left like this: catatonic on the couch while the remaining six Warriors tried desperately to break her out of it. 

Cleon alternated between being the mother hen that she was at heart and trying to pull rank, but everyone knew all her threats of extra chores and dealing with new recruits were only attempts to get Rembrandt’s attention. Cochise and Cowgirl went the route of using her art, trying to get her to draw, asking if they could steal a few pages from her sketchbook which had always been a hard no. They dropped it as a lost cause when she actually said “go ahead.” Swan did nothing but sit beside her and make it clear she was there to talk when Rembrandt was ready. Rembrandt appreciated that. 

To everyone’s surprise, it was Mercy that got the most reaction. After Fox’s funeral, Rembrandt had refused to eat for almost a week. Cochise and Cowgirl were at their own apartment. Cleon and Swan were out on gang business, dealing with the Gramercy Riffs from what Rembrandt understood. Mercy came home - still such a weird thing for Rembrandt to think about - from her day job Cleon had secured for her. She went straight to her and Swan’s room like Rembrandt knew Swan had asked her to do. Let the rest of the crew deal with Rembrandt, she never took kindly to strangers, just let them handle it. 

Rembrandt heard the door open, close, and then open again. She forced herself to turn halfway over to see Mercy kneeling behind her with a takeout container of soup in her hands. “I know it’s not Nathan’s,” she had said gently, “but Swan told me it was one of your favorites.” Rembrandt liked her a lot more after that.

“Rembrandt!” Cleon said more forcefully, dragging Rembrandt back into reality. She rolled onto her back to look up at her leader. “Get up. Seriously. We’re going out.”

“Cleon, for the love of god,” Rembrandt whispered, her voice hoarse from disuse. “Don’t make me go anywhere.”

“You have to. This is non-negotiable.”

“Cleon-”

“Put on your vest and let’s go.”

--------

Ajax got herself stuck in solitary within five minutes of being on her cell block. She did it on purpose, jumping some girl she knew wasn’t affiliated just for giving her a sideways look. She knew Rembrandt would kill her for it but Rembrandt was probably planning on doing that anyway and she would rather be completely alone than deal with all the bullshit she was guaranteed in general population. 

Cleon had spent almost an entire phone call chewing her out for that. “Are you serious?” she shouted over the receiver. “We can’t come visit you when you’re in fucking solitary! Dammit, Ajax, what were you thinking!” Ajax was just happy she still got to hear Cleon’s voice at all. 

But Fox…

She could conquer any physical pain. None of that fazed her anymore. But the agony of hearing that Fox was gone and never coming back, that was something she didn’t know how to handle. Cleon had had the sense to immediately assure her it wasn’t her fault. She knew her too well. Ajax could only mumble one word answers for the rest of the call until an officer finally brought her back to her cell. She didn’t let herself fall apart until she was safe behind the solid concrete and steel, and the next morning, they had to bring her to medical to make sure she hadn’t broken both hands punching the wall. Cleon gave her shit for that, too.

The very first thing Cleon told her in their first call was who had made it home. She knew about Fox. She knew about that Orphan girl apparently being initiated into the gang and, honestly, fine. Ajax wasn’t thrilled but she could respect that. Above all, Rembrandt was alive. Rembrandt was safe. Rembrandt survived the night.

And Rembrandt refused to speak to her.

“I’m not going to tell you what she said,” Cleon said during those first few weeks. “You know I stay out of your relationship if it’s not affecting business but you don’t need to hear the words she has for you right now.”

“She hates me now, doesn’t she,” Ajax mumbled. 

“No, no, she doesn’t, but I know she’s speaking out of anger and hurt right now and that’s why I’m not repeating it. Listen, to be honest, she’s not doing great mentally right now. We’re all trying to help but she doesn’t seem to want help.”

“She’s not staying-”

“No, she’s not staying at your guys’ apartment. She’s staying with Swan and me. I don’t trust her to be alone right now.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Cleon sighed. “We need to get you home.”

Now, Ajax lay on the rock hard mattress and stared at the dirty ceiling of her cell. She could never be sure of the time in there, but it felt like a while since they threw her lunch through the slot in the door, so she should get the chance to call home soon. She didn’t make any more trouble after that first fight that put her in isolation. She didn’t argue, she didn’t even talk to anyone during her one hour outside, she was polite and, hell, even downright nice to the guards, no matter how much it made her want to puke. She was smart enough to know she couldn’t lose the one privilege keeping her sane.

She just had to hold on until she got out. She just had to hold on until Rembrandt forgave her, if she ever did.

“Inmate 718929!” a guard barked from outside her cell. “Get up, face the corner.”

Ajax did as she was told. Her mind raced as the guard came in and slapped cuffs on her wrists. She went through every little thing she’d done since she got put in here. She couldn’t think of anything that would possibly get her in trouble. She’d done everything right this time! They couldn’t be transferring her. She knew they wouldn’t tell the Warriors where they stuck her because they weren’t technically her next of kin. How would Cleon know how to get in touch with her? How would Rembrandt?

They brought her to the small room where normally she would have been able to meet visitors but she wasn’t allowed in-person visits so long as she was in solitary confinement. They sat her down at the metal table and undid her cuffs just to chain them to a loop on the tabletop in front of her. The guard left. She heard a short indistinct conversation through the door. It opened, and a well dressed woman with a briefcase and an easy smile stepped inside and sat across from her. 

“Good afternoon, Ajax,” she said. 

What the fuck?

“Uh, hi,” Ajax said hesitantly.

“How are you doing today?”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Lauryn. I’m a defense attorney and I’ll be representing you.”

“I didn’t ask for a public defender.”

The woman laughed. “Oh, please, I don’t work for the state. You have friends in high places.”

“But the W- I mean, my friends don’t-”

“Your friends have friends,” Lauryn amended, in a way that said shut the fuck up, the guards can hear you. “I’ll make this quick. Suffice to say I talked to a few people, called in a few favors, I waived your right to a trial and simply pushed through the plea bargain, hope you don’t mind.”

“You what?”

“They dropped the assault charges-”

“The what?”

“-and I argued them down to criminal mischief. You’ll have to check in with a probation officer every month for the next six months and, y’know, not get arrested again, but you won’t be serving any jail time.”

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop.” Ajax waved her hands as much as she could with them chained to the table. Her head was spinning. “What the actual fuck are you talking about? Who called you in? How were you able to do any of this?”

“Don’t worry about how I got it done, only that you got out of something you shouldn’t have been able to get out of. Do you recognize the name Masai?”

“Masai? No, I… oh, shit.”

The second-in-command of the Gramercy Riffs. Cyrus’s number two. The man who sent out a fucking hit on all their heads and kidnapped Cleon and put the entire city on a warpath with them as the prize. Why was he calling her a lawyer?

“Don’t worry about how we got here,” said Lauryn. Could this woman read her mind? “This meeting is really just to get you up to speed. Once we’re done here, the guards will get you your personal effects and release you. I’ll be in touch to go over your parole meetings with you in the future. Sounds good?”

“I-I, I mean, y-yeah! Yeah! Get me out of here!”

“Perfect! Wait for my call.” 

Lauryn stood, shook Ajax’s hand, and left just as quickly as she came in. Ajax didn’t even have the time to get her wits about her before a guard came in and whisked her off to be released. It went by in a blur. She just did as she was told, signing whatever they put in front of her, and followed the guard out to the front office of the jail. She knew enough to keep her Warriors vest folded under her arm until she was safely off the premises. 

She clenched her fists to keep them from shaking. Was Rembrandt going to be there waiting for her? Was the whole gang? This couldn’t just be a dream, right? There was no reason for the Gramercy Riffs to do all this for her. Maybe this was all just a hallucination, the light in the tunnel at the end of a nightmare. For all she knew, this was just a fever dream and she was still rotting in that cell.

The Warriors were not waiting for her in the front office. Instead, Masai stood by the door flanked by two Riffs, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. He straightened as she approached him. 

“Sorry for the wait,” he said. “The legal system takes a while to work. I’m sure you know.”

“Why are you here?” she growled before she could stop herself.

“Cyrus wanted peace. I’m trying to make that happen.” He jerked his head towards the door. “Let’s go, Warrior.”

----------

Rembrandt kept her hood up and her head down as they left the subway station. A cold wind cut through the city, blowing her hair into her eyes. She lagged behind the rest of the gang as they made their way through Lower Manhattan. No one would tell her where they were going or what was happening, and every time she tried to ask they would tiptoe around the subject until they could find a way to change it. The closest thing she got to an answer was Mercy reaching over to quickly squeeze her hand and offer a tiny smile. 

As they walked, Swan dropped back through the group and put an arm around Rembrandt’s shoulders. “Chin up,” she whispered, and that was all she needed to say. Rembrandt let herself lean into Swan’s side just for a moment before the war chief returned to her place beside Cleon in front. 

They stopped before a massive dystopian-looking brick building. Police cars surrounded the place. Flanking the steel front doors were three Riffs on each side, still in their black mourning clothes, and Rembrandt bristled. What the fuck were they doing here?

Cleon waved Rembrandt forward and rested a comforting hand on her back. “Don’t worry,” she said gently.

“Cleon,” she began, but the warlord cut her off.

“We’re safe. We’re in good company.”

The doors opened…

And out stepped Ajax. 

Rembrandt heard nothing beyond the hammering of her pulse in her ears. She took a shaky step forward. Ajax’s mouth was moving but Rembrandt couldn’t understand what she was saying. Her hands were bandaged and she looked exhausted and pale and underweight and… scared. Rembrandt had never seen her so terrified. Ajax was always strong and brave, often to the point of recklessness, larger than life, but standing before Rembrandt now, she looked an inch tall. Rembrandt watched Ajax’s mouth round out her name, and every emotion that had been building up over the past months suddenly exploded. 

She broke into a run and launched herself in Ajax’s open arms. 

She was a sobbing mess within seconds. Ajax had to keep her on her feet, arms wrapped in a tight fortress around her as she buried her face against Ajax’s neck. “It’s okay,” she heard her whisper. “You’re okay, baby, I’ve got you. I’m right here. We’re okay. We’re okay.”

For the first time since that horrible night, Rembrandt let herself believe it. 

It seemed like an eternity of Ajax just holding her before she found her voice: “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Never do that again!”

“I won’t,” Ajax promised, and it was a promise she’d made a thousand times before but Rembrandt could forget about that for now. 

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Rembrandt finally untangled herself from Ajax’s embrace and turned to face the others, but she stayed clinging to Ajax’s arm, afraid she might disappear if Rembrandt fully let go. Hugs were exchanged, the repeated sentiments of “we’re so glad you’re safe” and “good to finally have you on your way home” between all the smiles and jokes. Ajax didn’t hug Mercy, which everyone understood, but she did offer a fistbump. From the grin on Mercy’s face, you’d think it was the highest honor in the city. Rembrandt supposed that, in part, it was. She only let go of Ajax when the enforcer went to hug Swan. 

The two of them whispered something to each other, holding one another by the shoulder as they pulled back, both stony faced with downturned eyes. Everyone paused for a moment. Mercy gave Rembrandt a troubled look that said they’re not going to fight, are they? But Ajax cracked a smile and gave Swan a playful bap on the arm, and the war chief returned it with a wide grin. A light shoving match ensued with both participants laughing their asses off as they went.

“Kids, no fighting,” Cleon jeered from near the jail doors. Masai stood beside her, watching them, and Rembrandt swore the man… smiled? She wasn’t sure you could even call it a smile but then again, who knew if the Riff was even capable of showing joy like that. He shook Cleon’s hand, nodded to the Warriors, barked, “Riffs!” and the gang was gone, headed back to the Bronx to continue their queen’s mission from there. 

Cleon rejoined them with Ajax’s vest in her hand. Rembrandt cringed a bit, realizing she must have knocked it out of Ajax’s grip when she tackled her. Swan and Ajax ended their playfight, and Ajax stood before their leader, tall and strong and brave as ever. 

Cleon passed her the vest. “Welcome home, soldier,” she said. 

“It’s good to be back outside,” said Ajax as she slipped into her colors. “Masai’s lawyer said-”

“She’ll be in touch. Right. I just talked to him about it.”

“Wait,” Rembrandt interjected. “Masai’s lawyer?”

“You thought they were letting Ajax out because of her charming personality?” Cowgirl teased. Cochise pushed her hat down over her eyes with a smirk. “Wha- hey! Come on!”

“He said he owed us a favor,” Cleon explained. “I wasn’t going to decline.”

Ajax put an arm around Rembrandt. The artist leaned into the warm touch, wrapping her arms around Ajax’s waist as she kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go home,” she said quietly, and then, raising her voice, “And can we please get some Nathan’s? I’m sick of that fucking prison food!”

The Warriors whooped hollered in delight, arm in arm, hand in hand, following Cleon back towards the subway station and back towards Coney Island. Back towards home. 

With the others turned away from them, Rembrandt pulled Ajax down into a light, lingering kiss, clinging to the feeling of Ajax’s body solidly beneath her hands as she finally let herself believe it wasn’t all a dream. “We’re going to talk more about this at home,” she murmured. Ajax grimaced and nodded sheepishly. “But let’s go home first.”

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”

Ajax’s grimace flipped into a mischievous grin. Quick as a punch, she swept Rembrandt off her feet and into her arms, cackling as Rembrandt yelped in surprise before wrapping her arms around her neck and laughing along with her. Ajax carried her away from the jail, jogging to catch up to the others. Rembrandt closed her eyes and laid her head on Ajax’s shoulder. She was still angry and the memories all still hurt so, so much, but Ajax was back and she knew was finally secure in the belief that in the end, they would all be alright.

“Hey, do you have your cans? Maybe we could-”

“Don’t push it.”

----

The End! Thank you so much for reading!

[twistedappletree]

THIS CITY IS SO FUCKING FAKE “ohhhh we pride ourselves in being an art hub, look at our hundreds of galleries owned by rich white people who don’t even fucking live here and pushed out all the native artists because money talks, aren’t we impressive??? 🤪”

BUT RIGHT NOW MY CIRCUS SCHOOL IS BEING THREATENED WITH EVICTION BC THE GENERIC CORPORATE PLUMBING BUSINESS NEXTDOOR WANTS TO BUY THAT SPACE WHEN THEY ALREADY RENT OVER HALF THE GODDAMN BUILDING

omfg i’m literally losing my mind. the ONE fucking place where kids and young adults can go to express their creativity and learn cool skills regardless of skill and income and they’re gonna lose it because of a fucking greedy ass business who doesn’t give 2 fucks and a pussy ass landlord who only sees 💸💸💸💸

i’m mad i’m mad i’m fucking LIVID ALKSLQKDLAKDKAKS

[bread-is-my-life]

Winter stainmight, winter stainmight! ❄️

Plus a comic

A silly headcanon of mine that is 100% canon/j is that Stain always has some spare pair of gloves with him ONLY because Toshi always forgets his 😭 I think after a while it will just become an ordinary thing for them. Just a small moment of Stain caring for Toshi hehehfd :3

[layraket]

silly fast drawing of CG!Wild with his sheikah-paw bc yeah

planning on doing some sort of comics with these guys to tell what i have in mind for them but first i need to get the ideas turn to words

[lilowoof]

ngl gamers, I think I'm gonna inevitably lose to the hormones and depression in the near future XD

Can't bring myself to be active cause I'm using a lot of energy to not vent post all the time. But fuck it, into the tags I go!

[pastel-rights]

And then I finally end it off with some doodles of them… they make me feel things.

[melissa-titanium]

GOD therseomuch shit to do i thought id have time today to DO stuff. its the fucking weekend why do ihave to do 2 classes and go outside and literally do something for school . the weekDAYS are always busy i havent had a free moment since i fucking joined

[sleeperagentclone]

I am too socially inept to deal with all the weird people my dad has collected over the years

[daincrediblegg]

no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly

I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.

because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).

And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.

It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.

so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | masterlist!

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"God loves you but not enough to save you,"

summary: In the small town near Austin, Texas, you are trapped in a life of rigid expectations and silent suffering. As the preacher's daughter, you endure the mental and physical abuse of your father while your mother, bound by obedience, offers quiet love. Your longing for a father's warmth finds an unexpected solace in Joel Miller, your father's best friend and neighbor. In Joel's presence, you discover a forbidden sanctuary, where your yearning heart is met with a gentle strength you've never known.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

❝ to my love, Joel.

,...found you just to tell you that I made it real far, i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did.

while you were torn apart, i would still wait with you there.

don't think about it too hard, honey. or you'll never sleep a wink at night again.

and don't worry about me and these green eyes,

baby, just know that i love you. and i'll see you when you get here.

i love you forever, Joel... ❞

THE PLAYLIST! (on spotify)👰🏼‍♀️

the preacher's daughter ▪️ dbf! joel miller

MASTERLIST!🐇

Chapter 1: "But I always knew in the end, no one was coming to save me,"

Chapter 2: "Because that's how my daddy raised me,"

Chapter 3: "I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue"

Chapter 4: "He looks like he works with his hands, and smells like Marlboro reds,"

Chapter 5: "Because for the first time since I was a child, I could see a man who wasn't angry,"

Chapter 6: "Let him make a woman out of me,"

Chapter 7: "You wanna fuck me right now?"

Chapter 8: "The fates already fucked me sideways,"

Chapter 9: "Christ, forgive these bones I'm hiding,"

Chapter 10: "and that's why I could never go back home,"

Chapter 11: "I don't care where as long as you're with me,"

Chapter 12: "If it's meant to be, then it will be."

Chapter 13: "Beautiful people, beautiful problems."

Chapter 14: "You put your hands into your head, and then smile cover your hearts."

Chapter 15: "Something's bad is 'bout to happen to me,"

Chapter 16: "Tag, you're it."

Chapter 17: "If he's a serial killer then what's the worst that could happen to a girl who's already hurt?"

Chapter 18: "He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed"

Chapter 19: "Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise,"

Chapter 20: "You poor thing, sweet, mourning lamb. There's nothing you can do."

Chapter 21: "If we die tonight, I'd died yours."

Chapter 22: "I'm always going to be right here, no one's going anywhere"

-THE END-

read it on wattpad!

the preacher's daughter by babyvenoms

ENJOY! and if you guys have any like visuals to this, or art that you made for this I would love to put it here, just let me know! thank you!! 🩵

[withonly-sweetheart]

di leon kennedy doing pushups ;) inspired by this (suggestive) art by @bunnivievve because i think artists have too much power. lowkey im typing this out so fast rn im tweaking i have exams tomorrow NOOOOOOOO-

<><><><>

your husband joined the police force. great. awesome. what a wonderful sight, at least it is for all the people watching on the outside. the picture perfect couple; a loving wife and a valiant husband to match.

what they never saw were the late nights up, studying the same textbook about a trillion times over, pretty much memorizing the goddamn contents of it before stumbling into your bed.

his body might be warm but that warmth always abandons you in what seems like a second, the snap of his fingers, because it's become a recurring instance that he's left early to train.

always making good impressions, that man. and you're proud of him, you have to be and you're not ashamed to show it. you've seen his growth, his courage that he displays, the hurt he has to suffer through all to keep the city safe. his city, where you are. his heart.

which is why it comes as a surprised when your husband, a man you've been married to for seven years, comes up to you with a bashful expression, eyes darting left and right, grazing all the corners of the world.

"do you... uhm... think... i'm strong?" you blink, dazed.

"why? what's wrong?"

"well, some of my higher ups had some concerns about... strength. they wanted me to 'strengthen my core'." he chuckles. "whatever that means."

"and you came to me for that," you drone.

"i've seen you do all those exercises around the house!" he protests. "can't you just teach me a few?"

"first of all, those are to help with cramps, and second, no." it seems like he's given up, but you know him well enough to know that that will never be the case.

"aw, c'mon, please?" he murmurs, taking your hand into his, caressing the bottom of your knuckles, rubbing soothing circles into your fingers. "just once?"

so you find yourself relenting to the man who always knows what to say to get you to crack. maybe next time you should be more demanding, hm?

needless to say, it's all made up for when you stretch out into the first pose, a simple sitting position with your legs extended fully, fingertips reaching the tips of your toes.

leon nods, and he gets the sitting part right. but when he tries to copy your movements, he hisses and leans back, groaning with the effort.

"what's wrong, officer kennedy?" you tease. "scared you'll break a hip bone?"

"quiet," he grumbles. "i'm just a little sore from yesterday."

"of course, of course, a very busy day running errands, such as picking up doughnuts, might i add?"

he scowls at you and tries again, and again, but every time he can't seem to cope with the fact your flexibility, even at your maturing age, is better than his, even with all his rigorous training.

"looks like you couldn't do it," you say smugly, smirking directly at him, angling your body to face him. "told you so."

"i think it's my turn now," he says, creeping towards you. and this time he seems to have the prowess of a panther, easily slotting himself into place above you.

"your turn for what?" you ask, somewhat suggestively. he grins.

"how 'bout i show you what i've learned?"

fuck, you'll never doubt him again, will you? his sweet, submissive girl, arching beneath him, one hand pressed on the floor near your head, keeping him supported. the other is clasped behind his back, in an ethereal tilt that has his chest hair hitting all the right angles of the dying sun.

your knee is thrown over his shoulder, and the position should be awkward, you think, yet it feels as natural as anything. he pistons his hips further into you, and he's been mumbling something in your ear since he started.

now that you can hear him better through his rough, sloppy pants, you hear a steady rhythm. "twenty-five... twenty-six..."

he's counting, you realize after your mind-shattering orgasm, whimpering underneath him as he finishes, muscles flexing in a manner you'd never thought to admire until you realize why.

he's counting the pushups, god, that's all he's been doing this whole time. and you'd be damned if you didn't send a silent prayer of thanks back to the academy, where they trained him to do this.

but you're sure this isn't how they expected him to apply it in real life. hey, what can you say? seems like you're finally enjoying your husband's career and all the perks it comes with.

"my pretty wife, going around doing all those stretches, driving me fucking crazy bending over like that," he rambles, lowering himself to shower your face in messy kisses before tilting his head back to the side with a hiss, lifting himself back up.

back up and back down, a slower pace with his upper body while his lower half rails into you, and all you can do is lie there, helpless to what he gives you, craving more yet somehow satiated at the same time.

"yeah, mmm, fuck, just like that-" he breaks off his counting to whisper sweet nothings in your ear for the second time that evening, pushing his spend back in while you grasp for purchase on his biceps, feeling the hardened muscle lurch back towards you as you dig your nails deep into his skin.

"needed that, didn't you?" you whisper breathlessly after he collapses onto the hard wooden floor next to you. his eyes shine with effort and pride, and after a low exhale, he immediately scoops you up.

he carries you back to the bedroom, where he lies you down onto the comforters, making sure you're comfortable before trailing up and down your neck with soft, carefully measured kisses once again.

"w-what're you doing?" you murmur, twitching under the overstimulation. leon's eyes have shifted to a deeper color, a darker lilt to his eyes when he reaches your gaze.

"i can do better than that, sweetheart."

"better?" you ask jokingly, because what could make him better? anything better than that is a menace to society, you decide.

he sighs, shaking his head before cupping your body with his hand again, rubbing your skin in such a doting gesture that you don't expect his next words.

"i said a hundred, sweetheart. i didn't even make it to fifty."

series masterlist

[artdcnaldson]

yknow those wives who have affairs with men they meet at the gym? yea so that but its art fucking the pretty, young thing from the yoga class his trainer signed him up for. something about mindfulness and old joints, honestly art wasnt listening, too busy thinking about how embarrassed he would be trying to do yoga in a public gym, a nice gym, but public nonetheless. but the first time he goes he picks the matt next to yours, youre no professional but youre a hell of a lot better than he is, as is everyone else but he's not looking at them. you end up chatting afterwards and it just kind of become routine for you to share those classes when you're both there. grabbing a juice together afterwards. and before either of you really understand whats happening, juice turns to lunch, one class a week turns to 3 or 4, a cup of coffee on the weekend turns to regular dinners. and suddenly he's fucking you in the back of his car in the parking lot of your building, all the yoga really paying off with the ways he's bending you trying to make it work in the cramped space. he was really just going to drive you home, like he always does, but you're just so pretty and he swears he saw tashi texting a number with the name "p" last night... so he kisses you and then hes rutting into your pussy, begging oyu to cum around him, let him feel your pussy get tight like that, strangle his cock.... many a thought

-🐞

GODDDDD <3 <3 <3

He isn't going to cheat, he isn't going to cheat, he is NOT going to cheat. It runs through his mind every fucking class after that first one. He's there to improve mobility, to help him get out of his head and be mindful, to kick the horrible anxiety that he's developed since the injury, that's worsened since New Rochelle.

He's not there for you. Even if you're the only person there he talks to. Even if he looks forward to seeing you every morning when he wakes up. Even if he suffers through gross pressed juice after each class because it means more time with you.

You make him happy, in a way he hasn't felt in a really long time. Desirable, interesting, worthwhile. You smile at him across the table when you go out for lunch, and sometimes you duck your head to hide giddy little smiles when he says something sweet. He'll reach across the table and his fingers will brush against your hand, and you won't move away. Your fingers stretch out, feel his, and that's good, that's fine.

It's not cheating. Coffee on Saturday mornings when there aren't any classes scheduled isn't cheating. Texting with your name replaced with a single letter to be discreet isn't cheating. Getting dinner isn't cheating. Watching movies together in your cute little apartment isn't cheating.

Surely Tashi knows. But why would she care when she's got a secret of her own? He know's she's texting Patrick. She has been since the challenger, working out the minutiae of what her coaching him will entail, and it makes Art's stomach turn. That incessant buzzing in his ear like a gnat, the constant question of if Patrick is fucking his wife. Again.

Art had said he would try. He would try to keep playing past the open, and he'd try to fix their marriage. But that was an optimistic promise made in the aftermath of a great fucking game of tennis. It wasn't until later that the resentment and anxiety reared its ugly head.

And then there's you. You don't watch tennis, you don't care about his ranking, you don't expect anything of him. All you expect of him is the pleasure of his company. And god, you look so sweet, sitting in the passenger seat of his jeep. For the past ten minutes, you’ve been rambling on and on about the new show you started watching, how you swear he'd like it, really.

"You're quiet," you say once he's pulled into the parking garage and killed the car. You reach across the center console and put a hand on his arm. "Everything okay?"

No. He's thinking about Tashi and Patrick. Of a text that flashed across her screen that morning from a contact that's just P, "when are you telling art?" He's thinking about affairs, about how he wants one thing to himself, and why can't that be you?

So he kisses you, and you can feel the desperation and need in the rough press of his mouth against yours, in the slow lave of his tongue, licking into your mouth like he wants to savor the taste of you. And you just take it, moaning into his mouth, soft and pretty.

"You're married," you pant as you both climb into the backseat. You say it like you haven't been craving this exact moment since you first saw him walking into the class with an overfull gym bag and a plain gray mat slung over one shoulder. You say it because if you don’t, you’ll feel worse.

But he just silences you with another hungry, desperate kiss that you return in kind. You paw at his shirt, trying to tug it off without breaking the kiss. Art laughs against your mouth and sits back on his heels to peel it off.

He likes the way you look up at him, like he’s the best thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s never felt that from anyone before, never felt like much more than a second choice. A consolation prize. Your hand is small, sliding along the plane of his chest, dipping down to his abs. It’s like you’re marveling at him, appreciating his body the way you’d appreciate a work of art.

Your hand slides down and you palm him almost timidly, feeling the hard length of him in your palm. He groans, a low, masculine sound that makes heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. You’ve heard something similar, when he’s stretching out a particularly tight muscle, or when you’re doing partner poses in yoga class— a hot, panted groan in your ear due to the proximity. But this is entirely new— addicting in the best way.

You don’t care that he’s married. Well, you do, but you just want him to be happy. You can make him happy— can give him something more than what he has. Doesn’t he deserve that?

Your clothes are shed quickly, easily. Peeled off smooth skin, discarded into the floorboard. All of your senses are flooded with Art’s hands, the way they grasp at your exposed skin, feeling, holding, possessing— His mouth, searing hot where he laves at your throat, over your tits. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and it makes you mewl. Arching into his touch.

“I want— fuck— I want to do so much to you,” he mumbles against your skin. He nips at the plush skin of your tits, promising bruises that will remind you in the morning you hadn’t just dreamt it all. “I just need to have you.”

You’d let him do anything. You’d let him carve you open and replace everything inside with him, him, him. And he does, in a way. When he lines up with your cunt and drives in, burying himself deep inside, it feels like he’s all that’s left of you.

The car rocks on its axels as he fucks you, deep and slow. It drives gasps and moans from your lips each time he bottoms out, when you feel his cock deep in your cunt, when his balls press tight against your body.

Art moans a desperate, masculine sound, his breath coming hot. The windows fog, dripping condensation in slow trails. “I think I love you,” Art groans, the words slipping out as he gets closer and closer and closer.

He’s married. He’s probably only saying it in a fuckdrunk haze. It’s a bad decision, you’d both regret it in the morning.

“I love you,” you tell him, softly. Earnest as he’s ever heard it said. He cums hard, grinding slow and deep so it’s as deep as possible.

He walks you to the door, kisses your cheek, tells you he’ll see you at the studio soon. When he gets home, he doesn’t tell Tashi, but she can sense it on him. The secret seeps from his pores. Good for him. It’s about time he does something for himself.

His next tournament is beautiful— his best tennis in a while. And maybe it’s best for Tashi to turn a blind eye while Art’s winning again. Maybe.

[runninriot]

for @stervrucht

inspired by this beautiful art piece

-----

"Don't!"

Eddie's hand on his chest makes him stop instantly.

"Please, just- just don't."

Steve doesn't know what to say, can only stare at the boy in front of him, his friend, Eddie.

Eddie, who just told him he's in love with him. Said it like he meant it, so why would he stop Steve from leaning in to kiss him?

"I don't want you to do something you'll regret just because you feel the need to make it better for me, Stevie. I know you don't want this. And I don't want your pity, okay? So, please, let's just pretend I never said that."

Oh, right.

It's because he doesn't know.

Eddie doesn't know about the weeks he spent suffering, struggling to come to terms with the fact that FUCK, he has feelings for his best friend. His male best friend.

He doesn't know about the endless nights Steve had been losing sleep after realising that the way his heart always starts to race whenever they're close actually means something.

That the way his stomach always feels like it houses a thousand butterflies when Eddie looks at him with his dark brown eyes and his beautiful smile means that- yeah, shit, Steve's in love.

He's so in love with him it hurts. But Eddie doesn't know.

"Eddie, I-"

"Don't worry, Steve. It's okay, really."

He retreats his hand from where Steve can still feel the ghost of his palm lingering on his chest, turns to move, to walk away.

"Eddie, wait!"

He's already halfway out the door when Steve grabs him by his wrist to hold him back.

"Please, if you'd just listen to me!"

Steve is desperate, has so much to say, needs Eddie to hear what his heart has been trying to tell him for weeks now.

"I love you!"

"Steve, please don't do this to me."

Eddie doesn't even look at him, looks so defeated, so resinged.

"Did you hear what I said?" Steve asks, placing his free hand on the side of Eddie's face to force him to look up.

"I love you, Eddie. I was just too scared to tell you because I thought- I thought I'd never have a chance."

Steve can see in Eddie's eyes when the realisation hits him, knows that his words are slowly, finally sinking in.

"Y- you love me?"

"More than you know. More than I let myself believe was even possible."

It's a cheesy line and Steve knows it but it's true and it makes Eddie smile which is everything he could ask for.

Well, almost.

"So, now that you know, will you please let me kiss you?"

Eddie's smile only grows bigger and Steve's heart makes that weird thing it always does and the butterflies cause a whirlwind when suddenly, their lips find each other in the middle.

Eddie kisses him like he's never been kissed before and Steve knows in that moment that he'll never want to kiss anyone else ever again.

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Quarterfinals, Match 2

expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

Damon Albarn:

"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."

"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."

"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."

"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."

"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"

"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"

"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"

"THE MAIN BLUR"

"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."

"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."

"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."

"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."

"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."

"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."

"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."

"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."

"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"

"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."

"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."

"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"

"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."

"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"

"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."

"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"

[lilisettean]

Glittering Scales | Rafayel/Reader

About: You didn't know what to expected when Rafayel texted you to get him bags of ice near midnight. You thought it was for some art piece he was working on and didn't question it. Turns out, it was for something you did not expect. At all.

Pairing: Rafayel/Reader

Notes: Based on that mermen having 2.... you know.... tweet.

AO3: Read here!

Warnings: Mating, Monster(?)fucking, Tentacle, No protection, Hints of breeding. Please tell me if I missed something! Also 18+ only please. Enjoy :)

“Rafayel?”

Your voice echoed throughout the empty studio. Normally Rafayel would be here to greet you, be it from the floor or on the ladder he sat on while painting. But today he was nowhere to be found.

A faint splash of water down the hallway alerted you to his presence. With a sigh, you followed the sound, your bare feet breaking the quiet that descended upon the studio. 

‘Is he painting while in the bathtub again?’ You thought as you carried bags of ice under your arms and in your hands. After going radio silent for a week, he texted you out of nowhere, asking you to get him enough ice to last him for a few days. And while you had half a mind to ask him why and where he had been, curiosity got the best of you and you agreed readily.

Another splash brought you out of your thoughts, and you sighed at what sounded to be impatient flicks of his tail against the water.

“Coming! Coming, jeez–”

The sight of Rafayel sitting in the bathtub, his tail hanging out the edge of it, greeted you. Small puddles of water dotted the tiled floor, his phone lay haphazardly on top of the pile of clothes next to the bathtub. Oddly enough, his painting equipment was nowhere to be found. 

Despite having seen his merman form– his original form, you should say, multiple times before, the shimmering blue scales that were on his tail and his skin always enthralled you. And under soft moonlight shining through the full length windows, it looked as though they glowed, drawing you in.

Before you could lift a hand to touch the scales on his tail however, he flicked it, smacking your thigh and dousing your pants with water.

“What took you so long? I am on the verge of death!”

“I had to go around and buy these for you! Why do you need them anyway?” You huffed as you set the bags of ice you bought down to the side. It was almost midnight when his text came and you had to scramble to get at least a few bags for him, lest it wasn’t enough for… whatever he’s doing. The nerve. Pinning him with a stern look, to which he innocently blinked in response, you continued.

“And you don’t get to talk! What took you so long to text me back? You were unreachable for the entire week!”

If it weren’t for the fact that you arrived back in Linkon city mere hours ago, you would’ve gone and visited him as soon as he dropped off the face of the Earth. Rafayel would never go a day without calling you at least once, so when he suddenly did not reply to any of your texts or answer any calls, you knew something was deeply wrong.

Noticing that you were eyeing him critically, he turned away from your gaze, hoping you wouldn’t pick up on anything irregular. But unfortunately for him, you did.

“Are you sick? Why does your face look so red?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you leaned closer to inspect him. You thought it would be impossible for the blush that stained his cheeks to intensify even further, but it did. If anything, it looked like it spread to his ears too.

“Yes– Well, not really but I…” He stuttered, his usual nonchalant demeanor nowhere to be found. To you, it seemed like he was avoiding any sort of eye and skin contact. Interesting.

With a long suffering sigh, he looked towards you again, his eyes pleading. “Please just give me the ice. It’s too hot.”

“Only if you tell me what’s wrong.” You countered, but still tore open the bags anyway. He sighed in contentment the moment the ice came contact with his higher than what should be normal skin temperature. The ice that settled on his skin and his scales would soon melt and you idly wondered if you had to buy more when morning came.

‘There’s a store about 15 minutes away, maybe I should–’ A soft mumble from him interrupted your train of thought. “What did you say?”

Despite you prompting him, it took him another minute before he repeated his words.

“It’s… mating season.”

It took a few more moments before his words registered in your mind. Mating season, he said. What does that have to do with– Oh.

“Oh. And you’re…” Your eyes darted down, not so subtly wondering where his cock would be when in his original form. Nothing out of the ordinary– and was that ironic, saying that there was a merman in front of you ordinary– caught your eye.

To you, anyway. To him, however… 

Rafayel drew in a stuttered breath, desperately grasping at the shards of sanity that were slipping away from him. You being unaware of the details pertaining to merman physiology and mating rituals was making him antsy. He should’ve explained the differences between his original form and his human form a long time ago, yet couldn’t as the otherworldliness of it might scare you off. He knew you wouldn’t run away so easily but that apprehensiveness stayed because what if…?

Despite all of this, he couldn’t help but preen under your appreciation for his scales. Merpeople took great care maintaining their scales, and mermen in particular would show off theirs during mating season to attract attention from their intended.

You, being his intended, who was now perched on the edge of the bathtub, touching and admiring his scales, would be interpreted as acceptance to the mating ritual. But there was no ritual, nor request from him, so it was all null and void. He pointedly ignored the disappointment that seeped into his gut. This was for the best and for your own good, he thought, and yet–

“Do you… want me to help you?” You asked as you traced the edges of his scales, not catching the hitch in his breath when your fingers trailed further and further up his tail.

“I’d rather not. My physiology is not what you’d expect.” 

“And let you sit here for days on end?” 

“...” Rafayel bit his lip. You had a point. The constant neediness brought by his biology made it difficult for him to focus on anything of note. But what if you rejected him once you saw what was in store for you? It would feel like that day all those years ago all over again, when you didn’t remember him despite him spending so much time looking for you.

He shook his head at that. No, he should have more faith in you. And so with much trepidation, he relented. “If you are that determined, I won’t stop you. But…” He trailed off, grabbing your arm and yanked you towards him, causing water to splash out of the bathtub and onto the floor. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“At least let me take my clothes off–”

“No need.” With a snap of his fingers, his flame Evol materialized and he brought the gentle flame to your clothes. And within seconds, every piece of clothing on you burned away, leaving you exposed to the warm summer’s night air. 

“Rafayel!” It always tickled whenever he did that, a fancy trick he liked to use whenever he felt particularly impatient. “How long were you…?”

“Long enough.” He replied, leaning back against the bathtub to let you get used to your new position. You were straddling him, your hips sat upon the upper half of his tail. While the water both of you were submerged in was cold, icy almost, the heat from his body warmed you.

A spot on Rafayel’s tail piqued your curiosity. It was warm and softer to the touch, unlike other places. You reached down to lightly poke at said spot, only for him to hiss in warning. 

Oh. Was that where– Then how–

You prodded that spot for a bit, carefully watching Rafayel’s face while figuring out how his merman form worked. He stared right back at you, his pupils dilated and his lips parted as he watched you with interest.

“Rafayel? Can you give me that ability to breathe underwater for a moment? I want to try something…”

He arched his eyebrow at your sudden request, but didn’t comment. Wordlessly, he pulled you closer and into a kiss, wrapping an arm around your torso while tucking a few stray strands of hair that fell on your face.

A simple, chaste kiss was more than enough to give you the ability needed to breath underwater for an hour. And yet he cannot bring himself to pull away from you. If anything, he cannot stop kissing you, cannot stop his tongue from prying your lips open and pushing against yours. 

It was only when you needed air that you parted from him, albeit reluctantly. Like his, your face was flushed from the heat and the intensity of the kiss, fueling the growing fire that was threatening to take over within him.

Now equipped with the ability you needed, you shuffled away from him and dived under the cold water both of you sat in. Faintly, you could hear him ask what your goal was, but you only grinned in response.

Over water, his scales looked as though they were shimmering, glinting softly under the lights. But seeing them underwater was another story. They looked iridescent, the water around them making them almost dreamlike in its shine. But as pretty as they were, you were on a mission. A mission to see what Rafayel was hiding from you.

You poked the same soft spot that was on the front of his tail, and with a bit of prodding, you found a well hidden slit between his scales.

‘This must be it then.’ You thought as you brushed over the slit, missing the shuddered breath Rafayel had let out. You dipped a finger into the slit, and found something round– the tip, perhaps– poking at your fingertip.

You circled your fingertip around the head, coaxing it to come forward. And slowly, you feel it inch closer and closer to the opening, with warm slick coating your fingertips before dissipating into the water.

Rafayel sighed as you teased the tip of his cock, if he was in his human form he would’ve been fully hard by now. But he was in his original form, his apprehension to your eventual surprise eating at him, causing him to be slower to react. That didn’t stop his neediness to take over though, as he could feel himself getting closer and closer to revealing himself by the minute.

He was about to ask if you were doing alright, until he felt your lips on his slit. He tossed his head back, groaning at your tongue teasing his opening and his tip. He could feel his cock pushing through his slit, widening it and protruding into your more than eager mouth.

You gasped when you tasted his salty, tangy tip in your mouth. While it tasted the same as his human form, the tip was smoother and coated with more precome than you expected.

The similarities between his human form’s cock and his original form ended there, you quickly realized. As soon as more of his cock emerged from his sheath and into your waiting mouth, you felt there were ridges on the side of it. Fleetingly, you wondered as you dragged your tongue across the ribbed sides, whether there were more surprises waiting for you. This cannot be it, right? There had to be more which would explain his visible apprehension.

As soon as that thought ended though, Rafayel suddenly cradled your chin, and coaxed you to resurface. 

Unlike earlier, when he still looked like he had some semblance of control, his stormy purple eyes were now focused, pinning you in place as though you were his prey. The nervousness that was evident before was now gone, replaced with a growing hunger. Hunger that could be only satisfied by having–

“You.” He panted, pulling you closer and closing the too wide gap between you and him. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Merpeople… My people mate for life. There will be no going back after this.” He stated, doing his best to ignore his growing cock poking at your inner thigh. He had to warn you before you walk into uncharted territory, clueless to the repercussions again. While this was not life threatening, like the things you usually run head into first, it was severe enough wherein if you had denied the bond that formed afterwards, it would tear him apart.

“I think we are past that point of no return, no? With all the vows I’ve made to you.” You replied as you tucked away the damp strands of hair that clung to his forehead, pressing a reassuring kiss on his temple. And that was true. The promise you made when you two were children, the vow you made next to the hospital fountain late at night. You promised you would never leave his side, so why would you leave now?

Rafayel laughed in relief, burying his face between your breasts as he clung to you. With the emotional hurdle out of the way, what was left was the more physical hurdle. Unlike before, however, he felt less worried about this one now.

“I hope you are prepared then.” He smiled as he littered quick kisses all over your decollete, inching closer to your neck and then your lips. “Because after this…”

“I will never let you go.”

Rafayel captured your lips with his once more, the kiss slow but all the more passionate. With his worries soothed, he slotted his emerging cock against your mound, wanting you to feel the effect you had on him as you kissed.

It wasn’t long before the kisses turned less than chaste. You gasped as he left open mouthed kisses down your neck, suckling on the skin beneath his lips as he thrusted his cock against you. The bumps on the underside of his shaft rubbed and teased your clit perfectly, and you couldn’t help but return the favor by shifting your hips to his rhythm, making him grow thicker and thicker by the moment.

You had a feeling that his cock wasn’t just ribbed while you grinded against him. You can’t exactly explain why, other than there were parts of his shaft that felt… softer to the touch, despite knowing that he’s turned on beyond relief.

“Rafayel–” 

“Mmh?” He hummed as his mouth left another love bite on your neck, pausing to admire his handiwork.

“Can I… Will you let me see it?” You asked, reaching down to drag a finger across his tip. He shuddered at your touch, and you felt his cock twitch in interest. It seemed that his drive to mate was slowly taking over, as all he could muster was a nod.

With his permission, you tore away from him, giggling when he whined at the loss of contact. You reassured him with a quick kiss to his cheek, and dodge his clingy hands when you retreated. Inhaling one deep, steadying breath, you steeled yourself, and looked down.

Oh. Oh. 

Was that a sight to behold.

Through the clear water, you saw his cock in its full glory. His tip was round, like humans, but that was where the similarities ended. It was flushed dark blue, his cock the same color as his scales. 

You dived underwater again to take a closer look, your curiosity getting the best of you. Immediately, you spot that there were bumps and ridges down the shaft and all the way to the base. His cock both intimidated you, and made your walls clench.

But that wasn’t all.

Curled around his cock was a tentacle shaped like a smaller shaft. Like what it was wrapped around, the tentacle flushed blue and had small lumps on the sides. It was slimmer in comparison, but still as thick as his finger. With avid interest, you reached out to touch it, and was surprised when it unfurled itself and curled around your finger, coaxing you to come closer.

Like a creature under a sea witch’s spell, you inched closer, fascinated by the cock in front you. And before you knew it, you curled your fingers around his base, testing how the bumps felt under your skin by stroking it.

Above the surface, Rafayel gasped as you touched both of his cocks, and groaned when you brought both of them to your lips. He was relieved you accepted the otherworldly nature of them without any hesitation, and were even eager to pleasure him.

With both of his cocks in your mouth, you quickly realized that they, especially the smaller one, leaked more precome than expected, perhaps to make up for the lack of lubrication underwater. The salty taste filled your mouth as you circled your tongue around the larger tip, the smaller one pushing against your tongue and stimulating itself. Its movements made your heat clench at nothing again, and you wondered. How would this feel like if he fucked you now?

Rafayel gathered all your hair that was floating underwater, and held it behind your head. He wanted a clear picture of you sucking on his cocks and by God did he want to thrust himself deep into your mouth at the sight. But he relented. You were still new to this and he rather not risk you choking while underwater.

Pulling away from his cocks, you resurfaced one more to admire them from afar, only to be assaulted by another kiss. 

Rafayel had enough of his mate being so far from his embrace, he needed you in his arms and on his cock, now. Tugging you towards him again, he maneuvered you so that you would be flush against his cocks, making sure you knew what was in store for you moments later.

Unlike last time where he would grind against you however, he reached down to prod your entrance, spreading your folds with his fingers. You expected him to slip his fingers in but instead, a familiar, yet not, sensation crept in, massaging your soft walls.

“You can control it.” You gasped once realization kicked in, staring at him in bewilderment. He merely blinked in response, and nuzzled the crook of your neck.  

“Does that disgust you?” He asked. While you couldn’t see his face, you could feel him tense up, his grip on you unrelenting.

“No! Nothing like that. I was just wondering… What else can it do?” 

At your reassurance, he relaxed and continued to nuzzle your neck, nipping at your skin. “You will have to find out.”

“What–”

He pulled the smaller cock away from your heat, and had it latch onto your clit. You whimpered as he teased your clit, its smooth tip and small bumps running along its side sending pleasurable shivers down your spine.

Rafayel ran a finger up your entrance while you were distracted, and clicked his tongue in annoyance. Right. He needed to drain the water around the both of you before he tried anything. The water would wash all of your juices away otherwise and make this experience entirely uncomfortable for you.

He tugged at the stopper and let the water drain away, leaving just enough water for part of his tail to be soaked in water. As the water level dropped, more and more of your skin was exposed to him; the water droplets that clung onto your skin and slid down your body taunted him. 

With the water gone and out of the way, you could finally see clearly what his cocks looked like above water. And they did not disappoint. 

The amount of precome that dripped out and down his smaller cock was staggering, coating and smearing your clit with every twitch of it. His larger cock was the same as well, precome beaded on the round tip of it before sliding down the ribbed sides, his shaft glistening under the low light. 

“Do you like them?” He asked, parting your dripping folds and slipping a finger inside as his smaller cock busied itself with your clit. Your sweet whimpers made both of his cocks throb, and he couldn’t wait to hear your moans when he pushed both of them inside you.

He added another finger, burying it deeper within you as you rode his fingers, your hips having a mind of its own. You were starting to get used to the two different cocks when suddenly, his smaller cock shifted, resting your clit against a dimpled surface and–

“Mmh–!” You whimpered, the realization of him not only having ridges along his cocks, but also having suckers of all things, hit you with full force. It felt similar to having his mouth sucking on your clit, and you fleetingly wondered what if his smaller cock slipped in and sucked on your walls as well.

As though reading your mind, he stopped teasing your clit with it, and slid it inside you, adding what effectively was another finger into the mix, stretching you and satiating that growing ache to have something inside you.

You moaned as his fingers slipped in and out of you, the juices from your heat and his precome mixing together and dripping out of your core. While his smaller cock wasn’t as sensitive as his bigger one, the sensations of your walls dragging against his bumpy shaft made his cocks twitch. 

The primal drive to mate, to fuck and to breed coursed through his veins. His instincts screamed at him, demanding him to push his neglected cock in you and breed you properly. It was tempting, too tempting, with you bouncing oh so wantonly on his fingers, your hands holding on to the edges of the bathtub to steady yourself. But he held back. 

As much as he wanted you to ride him while he thrusts his hips in sync to your pace– and God did that thought made another bout of precome drip from both of his cocks– he was afraid of what was in store for you. He knew once he was in, those instincts would take over and you would not be able to reason with him until it was over.

He could feel his control slipping with every heartbeat, the lustful haze that was clouding the edges of his mind seeping into the forefront. It was a challenge, a manageable one, until you curled your fingers around his larger cock.

“Nnh–” He groaned, his cock pulsing in your hand as you stroked the underside of it and traced all the bumps it had. It took him a few steadying breaths not to thrust up and rut against your palm. 

Through a clouded haze, you fixated upon the cock in your hands as you rode the other. It was bulging and pulsing at different places, with some parts flushed deeper blue than the others. You didn’t fully comprehend it yet, the question of whether you can take it all plagued your mind. All you knew that whatever this was, you wanted in you. Now.

“...Are you sure?” Rafayel asked breathlessly as you pulled his fingers and his smaller cock out of you and teased the larger cock with your heat. You drawing circles on his tip with your entrance made him pulsate, staining you with more precome. His hands were now on your hips and he had half a mind to just push you down his shaft in one go.

“I won’t stop until I’m done, you know.” He cautioned again, one final warning before those little slivers of sanity that he had disappeared like foam. His smaller cock caressed your dripping folds and held them to the side, allowing him better access when he inevitably sank you down his eager cock.

“I know.” You responded as you lowered yourself down, slowly taking his cock in inch by inch. It was hot and the throbbing ridges rubbed against your soft walls, forcing more juices to flow out of you. You paused midway to let yourself get used to the foreign feeling, and watched him as he tried to keep his face in check.

Your tight warm walls made it increasingly difficult for him to hold back, especially when you clenched tentatively around him. He understood why you stopped halfway, as his larger cock grew thicker at the lower half until flaring out at the base. But he felt like you were teasing him at this point, with you dragging the upper half of his cock out and pushing it back in over and over again.

“Darling…” He hissed as you rode him, his grip on your hips vice like. Following your lead, he shallowly pumped his larger cock in and out of you, in tune to the pace you’ve set.

The bumps on the side of his cock grazed your clit with every thrust, and before you knew it, you began to take more and more of him in, your folds spread further and further apart with the help of his smaller cock.

The urge to pull back and slam his hips into you the moment you finally, finally, took the entirety of his larger cock in was overwhelming. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling a sharp, stuttering breath.

He was fighting a losing battle against his primal instincts, but he had to hold back or–

“Do it.”

Your voice broke through the lust ridden fog that clouded his mind. Did you just give him permission–

“Don’t worry, I can handle it.” You said again, nuzzling the top of his head and patting it. He was tense against you this entire time, strained and a heartbeat away from snapping. You knew he had been waiting for you to be ready, and you couldn’t help but smile at that. 

Coaxing him to finally let go of whatever inhibitions he had, you clenched your walls around him once more, forcing a quiet moan out of him. “Please Rafayel… Please fuck me.”

And like a light switch flipping, he dragged his larger cock out without warning, only giving you a second to process before slamming back into you. Every thrust filled you to the brim, and you could feel his hot precome leaking and spreading all over your walls as he thrusted.

“Rafayel– Mmh–” You moaned between open mouthed kisses, his lips capturing yours every time you managed to slip away. One of his hands held you in place as he fucked upwards into you, while the other palmed at your breast, tweaking and brushing over your nipple as your breasts bounced to the pace he had set. You had to wrap your arms around his shoulders then, or else you would’ve toppled at the sheer intensity of his thrusts.

At some point, when you cannot pinpoint exactly anymore, his smaller cock pulled away from your folds and prodded your entrance, slipping inside and pushing against your tight heat. The sudden intrusion forced your half lidded eyes open, and before you could mention it, the suckers dotted on the underside of his smaller cock grazed your walls, gently sucking on you from the inside.

Rafayel listened attentively to your moans as he sucked on the skin of your neck, leaving numerous bites and markings on you. His rational mind was now gone, replaced by his need to pleasure and breed his beautiful mate. He nuzzled your neck once more, your lovely moans encouraging him to keep going, spurring him on.

The steady tension that was building within your abdomen threatened to snap with every heartbeat, and you could feel yourself being close, so close, to that high that Rafayel was pushing you towards. You couldn’t help but move your hips along to his erratic rhythm, anything to get yourself closer to that point.

As though sensing your desperation, which was not difficult considering your walls fluttered more and more around him, clenching and squeezing him oh so sinfully, he pulled his smaller cock out of your heat and grinded the underside of it against your clit.

“Rafayel–!” The sensation of his suckers pulling at your clit drove you over the edge. Like a coil snapping under pressure, your heat tightened around his cock as you reached that high, clenching and spasming around it.

“My mate…” He breathed out, not once stopping to give you a break as you navigated through the pleasure he brought to you. The way your walls clasped around him as you were pushed over the edge brought his own high forward, forcing a growl past his lips as he suddenly pushed both of his cocks as deep as he could within you before letting his come spill over, releasing as much as he could inside you. 

He didn’t stop there however, he continued to pump his cocks deep into you, hoping to push his essence deeper inside with a few more unsteady thrusts.

As you paused to regain your breath, he pulled away from your neck and brushed the hair that fell messily on your face away, and kissed you as tenderly as possible. 

He looked calmer now, content even, compared to how he was before. The tension that was present on his shoulders and eyebrows was gone, dissipated along with the apprehension that he had about showing you the entirety of his original form.

A sudden glint in the corner caught your eye. It was your phone, its screen turning on most likely because of someone texting you. Next to it was your belongings and–

Oh. You forgot about the ice.

“You should’ve told me this was going to happen instead of making me buy ice for you.” You laughed, seeing that the bags of ice had now turned into bags of water with ice chips in it. They weren’t that expensive so you didn’t really mind, but the time you spent scouring shops that were still open close to midnight was now rendered unnecessary.

Rafayel kissed your cheek and nuzzled you, still basking in the afterglow under the moonlight. “...I was scared you would reject me.” He confessed, still clinging onto you like a lifeline. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You were about to ask how he would do that when you were acutely reminded of his cocks still being inside you, still stiff and ready for another round.

“How–”

“It is mating season after all.” He simply replied, and you noted that his eyes suddenly had a predatory glint to them, making your heat clench again and your heart race. 

“You, my darling mate… are going nowhere.”

[sparklyskies0]

𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐥 ꣑ৎ c.s

( 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 ) you show chris your halloween costumes

⋆౨ৎ ₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

You had bought a couple of costumes. since you couldn’t decide on only one. you purchased some for you, and some for both you and chris for couples costumes. It’s your favorite time of year and you were determined to find the perfect costume for the halloween party coming up, wanting to look your best.

you had told chris to stay still on the bed as you scurried in the closet to find which costume to try on first. “i dunno why you can’t just change in front of me, ma” chris’s voice called out to you in the closet as he sat impatiently on the bed. His elbows behind hoisting him up as he lent back on the bed. His phone in his left hand for some kind of distraction as he waited for you.

“cus its supposed to be a surprise” you responded. Carefully stepping into the chucky costume you had ordered. Adjusting anything you needed to. “i hate surprises, I w’na see you” you can hear him sigh as he spoke. You knew his patience was wearing thin, but you didn’t care. His pain and suffering will be worth it when he sees you.

you chuckle at his whining, slipping on the knee high white socks with blue and red stripes that came with the costume on. Not knowing what shoes you were going to wear yet you decide to say fuck it and present the outfit the way it is. You grabbed the fake knife and walk out of the closet.

As soon as you stepped out chris’s eyes dropped to the exposed flesh of your thighs. you stand in front of him, Hand on your hip, biting your lip in anticipation as you wait his reaction. Though by the look on his face, you can tell exactly what he was thinking without him uttering a word. “so..” you start

“ya like?” your eyebrows raised, as you scan his expressions. He bit his lip, clearly not having the words right now. The costume isn’t sexy enough, you both knew that. But the way your body looked in it was enough to get him going.

“turn around.” he said simply, his voice low, kind of like he’s holding back a moan or something. without hesitation you turn around, giving him a full view of the back. The way the piece of clothing barely covers your whole ass. Your cheeks very much exposed. If chris wasn’t so hypnotized he’ll stand up and smack it. But he knew there was more to come, he could control himself for now.

“damn ma, you look good” he spoke, his blue eyes roaming all over your figure, taking you in. It was like a sculpture, a piece of art that he can’t help but admire. you belong in a gallery, he always told you that.

“thank you baby, im glad you like it” you smile at his compliment. “next one” you return to the closet. Taking off the costume carefully but quickly.

chris on the other hand let out a strained sigh as you left his sight yet again, his hand going down to his pants adjusting his arousal he got just from looking at you. At first, he was not really feeling the whole surprise costume try on thing, he hated waiting. Especially when it came down to something for you to wear. One of his favorite things is watching you undress and get dressed so for him not being allowed to see any of that till you say so frustrated him. until he saw how you looked in the first costume, now he’s down to wait. Since he gets rewarded with the sight of you.

the next costume you’re putting on has to be on the list of your favorites, it’s your part of the couples costume for you and chris. You’re velma, He’s shaggy. You pulled the orange crop top down onto your body. the circle cut in between enough to show off your cleavage. You slip on the leather red short skirt , knowing that if you wear this in public. Bending down might be a hassle. Finishing the touch with the knee high orange socks you slip on the heels you got to go with it, giving you enough height to manipulate your normally short self.

“ready?” you call out to chris, wanting to hear it from him first. It wasn’t long before you heard an excited yes from him. You step out of the closet, this time with a wide smile on your face. You liked this one a lot. Chris let out a hiss at the sight of you, biting his pink lips once again. “god ma, you driving me crazy here” he said

you chuckle at him “you like it huh” you say, turning around. “the skirts short as hell though” you bent down slightly, to prove your point but not enough to cause chris to get any more hotter than he already is but knowing him he will anyway.

chris nods immediately “yea that might be a problem” he said, a hint of protectiveness and possession in his voice. His eyes glued to your ass. How the bottom of your cheeks were covered just barely. He did take note of the easy access though, knowing that if you aren’t wearing panties he can slip in at any moment no matter where you are or what you’re doing.

“I got you the shaggy costume too, we can match” you said, it sounded like a question but it was a statement. He was going to wear the costume whether it was for the party or not, even just for pictures or something. The concept is too cute to pass up. He nodded in agreement, loving the idea just as much as you. Even if he didn’t, he’d still do it, he’d do anything for you. you both knew that. “bet” he replied

“im ready for the next one” he says, “how much do you got left?” he tried to subtly adjust himself once again. “like one or two left, i don’t remember” you answer. You disappear back into the closet. Changing out of this one.

The next costume was the easiest. It was freddy krueger and you knew you didn’t need to do much besides order a red and green striped sweater and cut rips and holes into it yourself. You refused to let chris see the finish product until now. You already owned a black mini skirt so you were pretty much set. Topping it off with your fishnets and the glove you step out of the closet.

The smirk on chris’s face was priceless, you’re not sure if it was because of how short the skirt was, or the fact that your red lace bra was visible through the hole you cut in the middle for the sexy effect. “i like this one. simple but you look sexy as fuck in it” he says, in a slight mutter

you take that as a victory. “okay the last one I think you’ll like a lot, hold on to your socks” you warn heading back into the closet

You change out of it and carefully step into the dress to your pirate costume, you made sure you got the shortest dress you can find. wanting this to be the one that brings chris to snap and lose his mind. you struggle for a second to strap on the corset on your own but you manage. Focusing on putting everything on correctly as you stand in front of the mirror in the closet. Luckily you had your own gold belt bangle piece to wrap around your waist. You pull your fishnet socks with the bow at the top on and your black high heels. Now this one was your favorite. It was sexy and the perfectly good costume for you, especially to wear at the party. You had more pieces to put the outfit together, like the bandana and a sword. but for now, it’s just the basics.

“okay this one is my favorite” you bit your lip as you step out. Chris’s jaw practically dropped. From your thighs to your waist to your boobs, his eyes roamed . “this is the one im wearing, I think..” you say. You scan his face.

he sits up straight. licking his lips he muttered, “c’mere”

you walk over to him. now stood in between his legs. His hands trailed up and down the back of your thigh. sending a shiver down your spine. The feeling of his warm hands on your body enough to make you moan out loud.

“you looked so good in all of those baby, you’re so beautiful ” he lets out a hum. “but this one…”

“this is the one.” he bites his lip. your hands softly massaged and caressed his shoulders as you look down at him, his eyes admiring your lower half as his hands feel and roam over your thighs and backside. he can feel his pants get tighter as his arousal grows. He’s been in heat this whole time that now it’s starting to hurt.

“the things i wanna do to you in this…” he lets out a frustrated and lusty sigh. he looked up at you, his eyes burning with need and desire. His hands make their way under the dress. Tracing along the fabric of your thong. You moan softly when you feel his finger graze your center.

“take these off ma, ..please..?”

ᥫ᭡ Authors Note

idk how to feel abt this

this was supposed to be a blurb but

I think it’s too long for that 😭😭

anyways hope you like this I tried!!

more halloween content soon tho fr

xoxo paris