#rc sessions

[thisghosts-obsessions-again]

Ohhh that's where the drama lies huh... wonder what's more going to be the stakes here 🤔

[chinatoysfactory]

We got this RC bumper car toys with our friend!!!

[zyafics]

hii!! i was hoping maybe you could write a fic based on this p!link? ( https://x.com/moodkink/status/1919457705065840752?s=46)

but if you don’t write smut then just ignore this!! that’s totally fine :)

i do write smut, and this is the first time i wrote a smutty little blurb, so this was so fun!! it came so naturally <3

BLURBFEST III | RC

join my blurbfest <3 | p link | WORD COUNT: 0.8k

“I’m shy,” you say timidly as your legs are slowly spread open on Rafe’s lap, his hand slipping between the cushions of your thighs. Spine pressed against his hard chest, the rumbling hitch of his breath as his amusement grows from your nervousness.

His long fingers graze your folds in feather-light touches. Rafe’s lips against the shell of your ear. “You won’t be shy with me.”

Tonight was supposed to be an innocent tutoring session. You were contracted by his parents to come over and help him fix his failing grade—even given the authority of power to change them—but somehow, instead, you ended up half-naked in his lap, with your panties discarded on the floor while his hand plays with your pussy.

Well, almost.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you are certain Rafe can pick up the nervous energy radiating from your body. You haven’t had much experience with sexual intimacy, but somehow, you landed in the web of an notorious fuckboy who does.

“What are you going to do?” You ask meekly, feeling the rough callouses of his palm drag across your soft inner skin, causing you to shiver.

“You never touched yourself before?” His voice is breathy, wanting, like he’s actively holding himself back from doing more.

“I never had someone touching me,” you confess, because it’s true, but it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Rafe chuckles darkly, reveling in your innocence, and he awards you with a gentle glide of his digits against your folds.

You jolt in his lap.

“But you’re wet enough to want it,” Rafe muses lowly, his words coming out hungry. His fingers moved up and down your slit tantalizingly, making your core pulse with need, needing more friction against your clit. “Does this turn you on?”

“N-no,”

“Don’t lie to me,” Rafe says sharply, like he’s training you to be his own personal doll. Putting you in a position you don’t even know you’re getting into. The pad of his thumb caresses your clit, “I don’t reward bad girls.”

“I’m not a bad girl.”

“Yeah?”

Rafe’s words make you strangely hot, liquid heat crawling up your spine with an impulsive ache. All your life, you’re been nothing but a good girl. A law-abiding citizen. The perfect student. Now, you’re spread on a stranger’s couch, with his hand tucked between your legs, touching your most intimate parts.

With a measly glimpse of clarity, you say, “This is wrong.”

You don’t see him, but you can feel the curve of his mouth pull into a smirk. “Really?”

“We’re supposed to be studying.”

“I am studying,” Rafe gently bites your earlobe, a thick finger sinking into your cunt. “Anatomy.”

Heavenly. Rafe slowly enters your pussy, allowing your walls to adjust to his large size, before adding another. Then another. Suddenly, you’re full in a way you’ve never felt in your life. You have touched yourself before, fingers rubbing your sensitive clit, inserting inside, but it can never measure to what Rafe does. What Rafe can do.

He starts thrusting. Moans slip through your throaty voice, ricocheting in incremental volume as you try to contain your sounds. Rafe promised no one is home, just you, just him, and your back arches with pleasure.

“Does this feel good?” Rafe coos in your ear, soaking in your little noises. He quickens his speed with his skillful fingers. “Does my little tutor like that?”

Your mouth is wide open, but you can’t seem to say a thing as whimpers leave your wetted lips, arms flailing to grab hold of something. Rafe’s touch is swift and calculated, finding the right spot, increasing the right pressure. When he curls his fingers, it’s over.

“R-Rafe,” you whimper, shaking in his lap, “Slow down.”

“Did you say go faster?” He quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in you with perfect, increasing momentum. You’re squirming, ass rubbing against his hard bulge, body building to your crescendo.

You can’t say anything. Can’t object—don’t want to. Instead, embarrassment flames your cheeks, and you close your lips.

“Leave it out,” Rafe demands, forcing your mouth open by shoving his free fingers in. Thighs trembling with his rhythm, your legs attempting to close, but his legs hook yours in a way that leaves you firmly spread. He needs to see it; the way his fingers disappears into your cunt. Needs to hear it; the squelching sounds that speak to your pleasure. It’s his own little prize. “Let me hear you.”

You come. Body shaking from extreme pleasure, hips buckling off his lap, and an elevated state of high passes through your system. You moan, wildly, loudly, in such high volume, it has you swearing the entire Figure Eight neighborhood will be filing a complaint.

You don’t seem to care.

Can you believe that?

“How does that feel?” Rafe asks, withdrawing his hand from your pussy. He doesn’t remove them from between your thighs, letting it sit and hover, making the faint presence known as he still has you in the palm of his hand.

“Good,” you gasp, “So good.”

“Good enough to give me an A?”

You look to him, eyes glazed over with a dreamy daze, the charming smile of his returns. “You know I can’t do that,” you say softly.

You think he’s about to shove you off. Discard you on the floor like he did to your panties and shorts. Instead, his mouth curls into a smirk, like he takes it as a challenge. A delight.

His fingers graze your sensitive clit, those feather-light touches producing a shock of pleasure that has you leaping off his lap. But his other hand finds your hips, pins you down.

“Let’s try this again.”

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[k-hotchoisan]

mmmmmm been thinkin abt photographer!san right nd he is know for his boudoir photography but his latest client’s got him in a chokehold like god how is she so fuckin sexy nd he can’t focus at all bc fuck all he wants to do is fuck her senseless— HELP

Your wish is my command Angel! Thank you for being patient 😘

As always, enjoy 🩷

snap.

<Choi san x fem!reader>

Synopsis: encouraged by your friend, you give boudoir photography a try after recovering from a break up, you find yourself doing more than just be a model.

Genres/warnings: smut, boudoir photographer!San x model!reader, sexual tension, unprotected sex, cream pies, mention of oral

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

“Boudoir photography?” You reiterate. Your friend nods.

“A friend of a friend of a friend tried it recently and apparently she’s been full of confidence. Her boyfriend adores it too!” Your friend squeals.

You scrunch your eyebrows, wondering how semi-nude photos taken by a professional photographer in this niche would boost one’s confidence.

Your friend’s eyes dart to you again, and then your phone pings. You look at the link your friend sent you. It’s a referral code for a promotion. You turn to her, gaze still dripping with skepticism.

“Come on, just try it. You’re a lovely person and you deserve to see it for yourself! Boudoir photography might really help at not being constantly self critical.”

You weren’t an entirely insecure person, and you were sure of that. It’s just that, after the rough break up with your ex, and seeing them move on instantly (like two fuckin weeks) with a new partner, undoubtedly was a gut punch to your self esteem, while you were still stuck grieving over the lost relationship and wasted time.

You’ve heard of boudoir photography, but you’ve never actually understood the concept of it, considering that it was niche, and that you don’t really know the point of it. You glance down at the referral link before deciding to just fuck it and sign up.

San is working overtime again, meticulously editing and touching up the photos. It’s become a natural part of him to almost be a perfectionist, whether when on the ground taking photos of the model or the post editing process. But he never loses the sight of letting the women shine naturally through their photos. After all, in such a niche market, they picked him. Definitely, he has his mix of male boudoir models, but the women evidently take up a higher ratio. He understands that one of the most important aspects of boudoir photography is trust and comfort with his models, which has them coming back for more sessions, sometimes even with their partners.

Setting up his own business in such a niche market was difficult of course, and he’s grateful that he’s managed to make a name for himself. But sometimes he’s grateful that his good looks are an added bonus to drawing in his clients.

His email pings and it makes him pause his work. Maybe he should finish it tomorrow. San glances at the fresh email that sits in his inbox.

An appointment via referral.

He opens it, and looks through the client’s information. At the bottom box for comments, sits a short question.

[Just wondering, what should I expect for my appointment? Is there anything I should prepare?]

He takes a moment before he drafts a reply.

[Hey there! Nice to meet you. I’m Choi San, boudoir photographer of Woodie’s Studios. First of all, thank you for choosing our studio for your boudoir experience!

Regarding your question, come in with an open mind. For what to wear, you may bring a set of clothes/lingerie of whatever you feel confident in.

I don’t bite, I promise!]

He reads the reply a second time before he hits send. It’s not as if it’s the first time he’s gotten questions like these anyway. His train of concentration is broken, so he decides to call it a night.

You reach the opaque door of a clean-looking studio apartment. The sign has San’s studio name and logo imprinted on it, so you’re sure that you are at the right location.

You press the door bell and it chimes a lovely tune. There is a quiet pause, before the door handle clicks and the door itself pulls back. Before you stood a really, no, an insanely good looking, tall male. His glasses rest loosely on the bridge of his nose as his small eyes meet yours. His brunette hair is slightly messy. He wears an expression of confusion at first, but it turns into something unreadable. You think for a spilt second that he may have gotten the wrong client, but your rationale reminds you that you did send him photos of yourself so he’s able to recognise you. You blink once, then twice because you were starting to get lost at how handsome your photographer was.

“Choi San..?” you say, with a small tilt of your head.

Then it’s his turn to blink, and he snaps out of that small trance he seemed to be caught in for a few seconds. Then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he greets you.

“Hey! Y/n right? Sorry, was tryna recognise you. I promise I don’t usually take that long to process”, he chuckles, pulling the door wider as he ushers you in, reminding you to switch out your shoes for the apartment slippers.

The hallway San brings you down is brightly lit and spilt into a couple of sections which you assumed one of them would be the photo studio itself. A couple of posters of pin up girls hang on the walls, all of them beautiful and stunning.

He then stops at a glass door and pushes it, to what you assumed to be his office.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Any preferences?”, he gestures. You shake your head as you let yourself sink into the velvet couch, gingerly leaving your bag of clothing beside you. San gives a polite nod and excuses himself to the pantry.

And the moment the door shuts behind him, he tears his glasses off the bridge of his nose and hooks the branch onto his collar.

His hand is placed over his heart.

San has photographed many different women over the course of his career, some breathtakingly beautiful. But none has ever made his heart skip a beat and caused his words to be stuck at the back of his throat, not like you did. He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you looked like—the pictures you sent served that purpose. Maybe it was the fact that he never expected you to look like that in real life, and for once, he almost doesn’t know how to react. His thoughts are all over the place as he paces into the pantry to prepare your tea. As he’s dipping the tea bag into the piping hot water, he begins feeling self conscious—was his hair too shrivelled? Did he smell bad? Was there something on his face? He tightens his grip on the mug and hastily makes his way back to his office.

San returns, with a smile on his face as he settles the cup onto the coffee table before you, and he joins you, seated on a velvet armchair across you.

“Take your time”, he reassures. “We can start after this, if you’re feeling comfortable, or we can just talk a little to ease your nerves.” It doesn’t take you much to think—you opt for the latter of course.

San laughs and nods. “I get that a lot, especially from first time female clients. It’s valid of course, having a male being your photographer for boudoir can sound off-putting. Perhaps looking at my portfolio might put you slightly at ease?” He reaches out for a large and thick leather-bound photo album. You let it rest on your lap as you receive it with a soft “thank you”, and flip the album open, and you’re instantly awestruck—San’s work spoke for himself. The models were diverse, both in nationalities and body shapes, all equally stunning and sensual in their own expressive ways. The only common denominator was the glint of genuine emotion and confidence reflected in their eyes.

You wonder to yourself—could you look and feel as confident as them? As you skim through the pictures, you feel yourself falling in love with the models as well—their genuine smiles when they do and the gazes they give.

When San catches himself staring at you being absorbed in admiring his portfolios, he feels his cheeks flush and he looks down, wondering what you think of it all.

“I see why you have so many clients. The pictures are gorgeous”, you say, shutting the photo album and handing it back to him. San flashes a sheepish smile and mutters a “thank you” loud enough for you to hear. The silence in the room remains a for awhile as you sip the tea, letting it calm your nerves. You don’t even know it but the person with actual jittery nerves was San himself, a feeling that he never expected to feel since the last time he did was when he started out this business three years ago.

“So… what’s the goal of being a boudoir model, if you don’t mind me asking? Like was it a long time thing you wanted to try or was it something spontaneous?” He asks to break the silence.

“I broke up with my ex recently”, you respond curtly, before taking another sip of the tea. Damn, this is some good ass tea. San blinks at your reply, unsure of what to make out of the bluntness. Before he attempts to reply, you continue, “and my friend sent me a referral to your studio, and I thought to myself, why not? I want to feel confident in my own skin. Also, I think it’s an interesting way of self exploration.” Your gaze meets his, and it’s his turn to look awestruck. You try to ignore the flutter in your chest when he laughs softly, when his smile reaches his eyes. It’s the way that he’s confident of his craft, and it’s making you warm up to him even more.

Your fingertips tap on the mug softly. Your gaze lands on the photobook once more.

“Does taking such risqué pictures affect you when you first started out?” You ask before taking another sip. San ponders about the question for awhile. He has people asking him that before, but for some reason, he wants to be slightly more transparent with you.

“I don’t see about my clients in a sexual way, even if they physically look appealing to me. In the end, self confidence and comfort always comes first, and I think that’s what I enjoy seeing in my clients when they become more comfortable in their own skin. People don’t understand how difficult it is to fully love yourself”, he replies.

That’s when you understand why San’s photography studio had so many recurring clients.

“Why boudoir? I think sensuality and intimacy is a form of art. It’s beautiful—watching people discover parts of themselves they never knew existed and falling in love. You don’t have to be conventionally attractive to be a boudoir model.

The money’s good, of course, but the satisfaction of watching my clients giving me feedback of them realising they deserve to love themselves more, or discovering other sides of themselves is nothing short of rewarding.”

By the time he’s done explaining, you feel a rush of confidence in yourself. It’s only been about ten minutes since the both of you just sat and talked, but you see that he definitely prioritises your comfort before he even begins the sessions. You ball your fingers into a fist, meeting San’s gaze with determination, telling him, “I think I’m ready.”

San’s eyes brighten up. “Great! You can use the bathroom to the left, and I’ll meet you at the photo studio just opposite the office.” He stands up, opening the door for you, and you bow slightly in courtesy as you head to the washroom to change. San’s heart beats faster, wondering what you’re gonna wear for the shoot.

San is fixing the sheets of the bed, then the studio lights at the perfect angle he wants it to be. His heart is still racing as he walks over to the tripod, glancing over at the door from time to time, awaiting for your arrival.

He perks up when he sees you walk in with a bathrobe on and he greets you cheerfully again, trying to hide his excitement.

You wave back with a smile, letting the environment of the photo studio sink in. The basic package for first timers consisted of a bed shoot, so it’s no surprise you see a bed in the middle of the room, covered in white. The bed looks comfy and you giggle to yourself, wondering if you’d end up falling asleep mid-shoot from how nice the bed looks.

“Anytime you’re ready”, San reminds you, carrying the tripod in one hand, his biceps flexing as he does, and it makes you blush slightly, which was ridiculous. Why are you swooning over your handsome photographer carrying the tripod with one arm? Suddenly you’re self conscious again, your fingers clutching against the black bathrobe. It was frustrating that you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was making you nervous, but you weren’t about to back out.

San continues to adjust his camera on the tripod, and his gaze absentmindedly shifts towards you, and his breath gets stuck in his throat, watching you undress from the bathrobe, revealing a white button up over black lace lingerie. It’s not anything new, but for some reason he can’t seem to tear his eyes off you—the way the panties hugs your hips and the bra cups your breasts, the garter belt hugging your waist and the straps hanging past your panties. He watches you climb onto the bed, eyes shutting briefly as you sink into the mattress with a soft smile.

He’s not confident that he’s able to last through the shoot, not when you’re looking like that.

“Is it too cold here?” San asks, trying to divert his attention from his perverse thoughts. You pop up from the sheets, the collars of the shirt slipping past your shoulders, obviously too big for you. That does nothing to help him with his thoughts.

“No, I think the temperature’s okay. Shall we get started?” You ask, buttoning up your shirt, the white material pathetically sheer that San is able to see the black bra peeking through.

The sight of you in an oversized shirt on, with no pants, just your underwear on is like a meal for San’s eyes. He hides behind the camera to hide his flushing cheeks, only to face your body through the viewfinder, watching you preparing to pose as you position yourself at the end of the bed, turning your body slightly to the side with one leg up, your thighs in full view, with the sleeves of the shirt covering most of your fingers, and your gaze right into the camera lens.

San takes a deep breath. Forty five minutes. He can do this.

“Sure. Ready whenever you are, y/n.”

It turns out to be a very agonising forty five minutes. While the both of you were cracking jokes during the shoot, San finds himself getting more distracted when you gradually remove your shirt, and when your poses grow ever more risqué—at one point you remove your bra and fit your shirt over again, which definitely made San grow very restless when he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your bare chest.

Midway through the shoot, all that swarms his mind is wondering how your body would feel against his, how your bare skin would feel under his hands, what kind of faces you would make when you’re under him.

What kind of noises you would make for him when he fits his cock right into you. He wants to fuck you so hard that your mind goes blank—so good that you’ll never remember your ex.

San blinks, his finger still on the shutter button. He doesn’t know what washed over him, but what he does know is the taut feeling in his pants, and he internally heaves a sigh of relief that he decided to wear cargo pants. Nonetheless, he hopes that it isn’t obvious. Well, it shouldn’t be, as long as you don’t ask for close up shots.

“San! Could you come closer for my close ups?” You call out, letting the collar of your shirt fall off your shoulder once more, revealing your bare shoulders, and reminding him that you were still braless underneath the loose clothing article.

Fuck.

San forces a smile, unlatching his camera and trying to walk normally without letting his erection steal your attention.

He reaches to where you are, reminding himself to stay professional, but when he meets your playful gaze, all he wants to do is pin you down. Your eyes twinkle with allure as you prepare your next pose. You get it now—the confidence that slowly trickles into you after every photo taken. You’ve never realised that you had this side of yourself, not until now, and you love it.

The close up shots only spell another layer of doom for San—he adores the budding confidence that you exude, but it makes it even harder for him to hold back, watching you make sultry expressions and poses close up. Through the viewfinder, his eyes try to focus on taking the photo but he finds himself being entranced by your stare. He counts down, then taking a few shots, not missing the growing smile you had.

San puts his camera away, reaching forward to your face to remove a stray hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, and his touch is warm on your face. It’s then you realise how physically close San is to you—you smell his cologne and it leaves your mind blank for a spilt second. He’s absorbed in fixing your hair, combing the strays off your face, the sound of his quiet breathing the only thing you hear. You look away, wondering if your heartbeat is loud enough for him to hear, and you hope it isn’t. San gives you a soft smile when his eyes finally meet yours.

He pulls back, preparing to take his camera for the next shot, but his leg gets tangled in the sheets.

Everything happens in a spilt second—his knee that shifts forward at first, pressing against the sheet that has unknowingly tangled around his other leg, then San trying to get up quickly with the tangled leg, realising a little too late by the time he falls right onto the bed.

Right onto you.

He almost squishes you. Almost. But he lands above you, supported by his elbows just in time before his body is in contact with yours.

Your heart races, way too quick for you to even process what just occurred. All knew you was:

One; San is right above you,

Two; his lips are hovering over yours,

Three; you feel something pressing against your pelvis.

And San stares down at you, his heart beating in his ears. He takes in the sight of you below him—eyes looking up at him through fluttered lashes, your heat radiating against his skin, your lips slightly parted in surprise.

As well as the strain in his pants when his eyes instinctively lower to your bare chest, your nipples peeking through your shirt, and that his little problem is just resting right on you.

“I’m sorry”, San whispers, breaking the silence that had hung between the both of you. “This usually doesn’t happen…”

You crack an amused smile. “Usually?”you reiterate teasingly. A tint of red flushes San’s cheeks and his clothed erection presses harder against your bare skin, and it makes you bite your lip.

“Fuck. I mean, this never happens. It’s just.. I’ve never felt this way about my boudoir models…”, he trails off. “I think you’re fucking stunning since you entered the studio, and I think you’re even more stunning now.”

Your heart flutters at his confession and this time, you feel yourself blush. A soft laugh escapes from the male above you when he sees you avoid eye contact from the shyness. His strings of rationale—yelling at him to stay professional—is snapping. He’s not lying. He’s never felt so attracted to any of his models before, until you, and now that he has you trapped under him, he doesn’t want to lose that chance.

“Should we end the session here?” San asks, with a quick glance at your pretty red lips.

Your fingers are playing with the dangling silver chain that he wears. He lets you, waiting for your response before he catches your gaze dances back to meet his again. Your hands shift to caress San’s jaw, and he takes it as a sign to make his move. You inhale softly as you feel his lips press onto yours, and it makes your head spin with glee. He tastes so heavenly, and your legs clench at the feeling that flutters between your thighs.

San slightly presses his body weight onto you, his erection only growing harder against your thigh. But it looks like he’s taking his time.

His fingertips warm your skin, and he lets them slip up your body, until he’s at your chest, barely covered by the sheer cotton material. His thumbs grazes against your nipples, and you gasp in between open mouthed kisses. You feel him smile, and he applies pressure, and the sensation goes right to your pussy.

He pulls back, watching your lip stick smudged, and your eyes dilate. You can’t help but feel entranced by San, and now you’re wondering how his face would look like when he falls apart.

And it makes you excited.

San lulls you back from your thoughts when you feel his lips suck softly against your neck, and now your fingers are playing with his soft locks of hair.

He’s slightly embarrassed at the way he’s growing even harder when he gingerly peels the white shirt away. His hands cup your bare tits, and he lowers himself to your left tit, giving it a couple of hungry licks and sucks, leaving your back arching and your mouth agape from how ticklish his tongue feels as he flicks your nipple. He doesn’t neglect the other nipple, giving it the same attention as he relishes in the way you fall apart for him. When he has his fun of sucking and making sure your nipples swell while you moan and tug his hair, he pulls away.

He sits up, pulls his shirt over his head and you’re left drooling at how chiseled his body looks. San unbuttons his pants and yanks it off, alongside his boxers, and you watch with awe as his cock springs out—hard and heavy against his abdomen. Your panties are tugged off you in no time, and you don’t miss the way his cock twitches when his eyes land on your slick covered cunt.

“You’re gonna be the death of me”, you hear him mutter before he collides his lips against yours once more. You squeal when you feel his fingers press onto your clit, giving it small rubs, watching and soaking your reactions—your whines and whimpers. There is a dull buzz in your mind every time your bundle of nerves get stimulated, and it builds up in your tummy.

“Oh god, you’re getting even wetter”, he sighs, his fingers completely soaked.

“It feels good. So good. Keep doing that”, you whisper, your fingers pressing against his arm. Your moans only grow louder as San picks up the speed on rubbing your clit, and it’s sending you over the edge way quicker than you wanted to.

San lowers himself to your head, and his husky voice vibrates in your ears.

“That’s it, keep coming undone. Let your mind shut off. You look so fucking beautiful like that.”

“San, San, fuck. I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck-“

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, your body tensing as pleasure becomes the only thing you know. You barely catch onto the dirty things San is telling you, but you know he’s encouraging you to cum on his fingers like a good girl.

He makes sure he has your orgasm drawn out as long as possible, your mind completely blown out at that point. San sucks off your arousal on his fingers, before giving his cock a few pumps.

“You taste like heaven, babe. I’ll get a taste of that cunt soon, but right now, I really can’t wait”, San huffs, trying to keep himself composed as he slowly fucks his hand.

“San, hurry up, please. I need you, so fucking bad”, you whine, your fingers pulling your wet folds open for him.

His breathing goes heavy at your words. “Damn, the shoot really got you heated,” San teases.

“I can’t help it if my photographer makes me wet”, you reply with a playful smile.

Something seems to snap in San when he hears that—all he’s thinking about is wanting to drive his cock so deep into you that your mind completely blanks out.

So that’s what he does.

San lines up his cock to your entrance and pushes and inch in. His eyes dart to your face, licking the bottom of his lip when he watches your face contort into pleasure. His hands stroke your thighs as he pushes in a couple more inches, soaking in your broken moans as he stretches you out. He forces himself to stay composed despite the fact that you’re squeezing him with your warm and soft walls.

He manages to bury himself right to the hilt and he gasps at how perfectly fitted his cock is in you, an uncontrollable moan escaping his lips when he feels you convulse around his cock.

“San, you’re so big. I’m so filled”, you whimper through glazed eyes, his cock completely cutting off other senses as your thighs tremble. A smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, pretty”, San tells you. Despite that, he waits for your green signal before he pulls out and drives his cock right into you.

Your mind switches off the moment his cock is fucking your pussy, because that’s all that matters. It’s so good. So fucking good.

His hands slither to your wrists, and has them pinned over your head as his cock pistons into you. You swear he’s driving you to be cock dumb by the end of this, but not like you fucking minded anyway.

“Look at you. Growing stupid over my cock already. So fucking adorable.”

You only nod in reply, biting your lip as his cock continues to render you speechless. Now San has completely flooded into the smallest crooks of your mind. San has his mind blank, his eyes darting from your fucked out expression to your bouncing tits.

Your cunt flutters once again and tears are pooling at the corner of eyes. The sounds of wet skin slapping echo around the studio.

“…wanna touch you”, you mutter. Despite the face that you loved that he was holding you down, you are feeling desperate to feel his skin as you dance on the fence of your orgasm. San releases your wrists, and he props himself better as he continues to pound into you, hitting the soft, spongy spot over and over again when he has your legs folded. When his pulls out, his cock is covered in a creamy mess. His head spins and his ego inflates at the thought him being the one who drove you to this point of mind blanking pleasure.

“No, no, I’m gonna cum again. So good. San!” His name leaving your lips as a whine. Your hands are gripping onto the loose unbuttoned sleeves of your shirt. His hands take yours and places them on his on his sides, and he groans at the way you’re clawing him.

“Shit. Fuck!” San curses when you cream on his cock even more on top of your walls hugging him tightly. You let go on his cock with a pleasured sob, legs twitching.

It’s not long before a long drawn out moan San releases as his warm cum completely floods your tight hole. He swears he wants to keep his cock tucked in your pussy because it feels that fucking good.

His face—oh, his fucking face when he orgasms. You barely recover from your second orgasm to watch San fall apart while he empties in your pussy, and it almost drives you to your third orgasm. Almost.

The both of you remain still for a moment, only breathing filling in the silence. Then, San slowly pulls out, watching the way his cum leaks out of your abused hole.

San pulls back, and he realises that he’s never seen a more beautiful sight—you, splayed out in nude, only covered by a measly white shirt that inevitably drives him crazy, with cum leaking out of your pretty hole while your body twitches against the white sheets.

He thinks that it’s a pity that his camera is out of reach, because it’s such a beautiful shot.

You glance at San with a shy smile as he hands you your panties. He hooks the your legs into the panties and pulls it up to your hips. You feel another load stain your panties while your thighs twitch.

San dresses himself quickly and extends his arm for you to take as he leads you off the bed. He knows he’s got extra work to wash the sheets but that’s the least of his worries.

What throws you off is when he pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple.

“I promise I’ve never done to any of my clients”, he reiterates.

“Unprofessional”, you tease, your hands sneaking up his shirt.

“Can’t fucking help it. I never knew fucking an Angel in my studio would be this exhilarating. It makes the thought of washing the bedsheets bearable”, he teases back, letting his fingers tangle in your hair.

Your mind goes completely blank when he tells you to wash out the loads in you, so he’ll fill you up once more when he brings you home, which earns him a slap on the chest. He gestures you to go change up, watching the way you remove your shirt to reveal your bare back, and he makes a mental note to start fucking you from behind.

And back at his place, he does. His eyes are hyper focused on the way your ass bounces on his cock. A loud slap reverberates in his room followed by a whimper.

He stills in you, spilling his load once more into your abused cunt as you cream all over him once again.

Then he has you wrapped up in his arms, peppering you with kisses as you’re teetering off your high.

“Stay over, won’t you?”, San requests, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears. You’re beginning to feel completely enamoured by the male. You nod as you melt into his arms.

San thinks it’s ridiculous how hard and fast he fell for you, but he’s confident that you’re his favourite model, ever.

[autumnscribbles]

tutor girl | rc

pairing: frat!rafe x college!reader

summary: y/n and rafe were never on the same level, but after a party at his frat that forms an unlikely friendship, rafe asks for her help

request by anonymous

warnings: drinking? i think that’s all

wc: 2k

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

You closed up your laptop and textbook as your professor said his final few words of the lecture. You were tutoring someone right after, and didn’t want to make them wait around in the library.

You gathered your things quickly and stood up, keeping your head down as you made your way out of the lecture hall.

“Bye tutor girl,” you heard a voice call behind you.

You turned to see Rafe Cameron, smug grin spread across his face as he waved at you. You rolled your eyes as you always did and started to make your way to the library.

“You know, tutor girl, it wouldn’t kill you to look up from a book and have fun every now and then,” he teased.

You didn’t know why he always had to speak to you and taunt you with his dumb nicknames. You had no friends in common, and ran in completely different circles, yet he relentlessly went out of his way to tease you.

You arrived at the library first, and sat down at your usual table. Leah, the girl you were tutoring, was starting to become almost a friend to you. You two usually spend the beginning of your sessions just chatting and catching up. You saw her red hair before you saw any other part of her as she breathlessly sat down in front of you.

“Sorry I’m late,” she breathed. “You know how Callahan can be.”

“Oh, do I ever,” you chuckled.

“You going to that party tonight?” she asked casually as she took out her notes for you guys to go over together.

You shook your head, not hearing about any party. Your Friday nights were usually spent binge watching shows or reading a book tucked under your blanket. You didn’t go out much, and you liked it that way. You enjoyed spending time with yourself.

“You have to come!” she exclaimed. “I thought Ella would have invited you already. It’s at that frat house, the red brick one, alpha something.”

You weren’t surprised Ella, your roommate and friend, didn’t mention it to you. She knew your answer would probably be no, so eventually she just stopped asking. You decided maybe tonight you’d step out of your comfort zone. For some reason, Rafe insinuating you didn’t know how to have fun was bothering you. You could have fun. What did he know?

Just for a few hours, you told yourself, so people don’t think you’re so boring anymore.

“I’ll be there,” you grinned.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“You look hot!” your roommate, Ella, screeched from behind you.

You blinked as you placed in your second contact lense, waiting for your vision to un-blur.

“Not as hot as you,” you told her. “I feel so weird.”

She reassured you that you looked great. You felt a little self conscious, but tried not to let it get to you. Tonight was about having fun. Letting loose, have a few drinks, talk to new people. It would be fine. The clothes you wore and how you looked were secondary.

You shoved your phone in your pocket as you and Ella made your way outside. The frat house was only about 5 minutes away on foot, an easy trek.

“Do you know anyone at this party?” you asked.

“A few,” she answered. She listed off a few names, all of which were unfamiliar to you except one.

Rafe.

“Rafe Cameron?” you asked, trying not to sound too curious.

She nodded affirmatively, making you let out a sigh. Just what you needed, Rafe teasing you about the way you looked, or about you being nerdy. Whatever. You just had to show him how to have a good time, that he didn’t know you like he thought he did.

You let Ella walk in first, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves overcome you. You hadn’t been to a frat party, and you had no idea what to expect. You just knew there would be a lot of booze, and a lot of idiot men.

The loud music pounded in your ears the second you walked through the door, and it was a lot…sweatier than you imagined. The temperature of the room rose from all the body heat. Girls in little clothing were grinding against boys who didn’t seem to even know their names. Red solo cups strewn on the floor that had a perpetual sticky feeling.

“Let’s get a drink!” Ella yelled into your ear over the music as you both made your way to the kitchen.

The counter was lined with alcohol bottles, various juices and mixers, and a big bowl of what appeared to be punch of some kind. You reached for a red cup from the pile, a hand interjecting you.

“Tutor girl!” Rafe cheered. “What are you doing here?”

Of course he found you immediately.

“It’s Friday night,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“That it is, tutor girl, that it is,” he nodded. “Let me make you a drink.”

You grabbed the cup back from him, cocking your eyebrow.

“I can do it,” you told him. You didn’t trust any of these boys to make you a drink.

He raised his hands in defence, taking a step back to let you have free access to the contents in front of you. You mixed yourself a drink, feeling Rafe’s eyes burning into you. Ella had left your side, probably seeing someone she knew and running over to them.

You took a deep sip of your drink, knowing you needed some liquid courage to get you through the night. You heard Rafe say something, but couldn’t hear him over the music. You asked him what he said and he leaned toward you, his warm breath behind you ear.

“I said I like you better with the glasses,” he repeated.

You couldn’t help the blush from forming on your cheeks. You were used to people telling you they liked you better without them. You had always wondered if you should wear contacts every day. Your blush disappeared when you realized who you were talking to. He was being sarcastic, making fun of you.

“I’m gonna go find Ella,” you told him before turning on your heel and walking away.

She was standing by a table playing beer pong, excitedly waving you over. You weaved through overly sweaty bodies to stand next to her. She told you she needed a partner, and you reluctantly agreed.

You went first, bouncing the ping pong ball off the table, and landing it straight in the cup in the front.

“Drink up!” Ella cheered, as Topper chugged the cup in front of him.

You continued, landing almost every throw, everyone around the table cheering you on as you scored the winning shot.

“Who knew tutor girl could kill all of us at beer pong?” Rafe said from behind you.

He smirked at you, moving to the other side of the table.

“Let’s 1v1,” he challenged you, his bright blue eyes narrowing playfully.

“You’re on, Cameron,” you muttered.

“You’ll regret that, tutor girl.”

The beer coursed through you as Rafe landed his ping pong ball in your cup repeatedly. At this point, it was like you were just taking turns drinking then scoring. The room was slightly spinning around you, but you stayed focused. You were determined to win. You both had one cup left, and it was your turn.

“Don’t choke,” Rafe intimidated you from across the table. His gaze was locked on you, making you nervous.

“As if,” you scoffed, sending your ball straight into the cup.

Everyone cheered, jumping around you drunkenly. The other boys in the frat were teasing Rafe, who apparently almost never lost beer pong. You hadn’t even expected yourself to be good at it. A hidden talent, you smiled to yourself.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You stumbled up the stairs, looking for the bathroom you were told was up here to the left. The hallway spun as you walked in to the first room on the left. You realized quickly it wasn’t a bathroom, but a bedroom. You slumped on the floor, feeling tired from dancing for what felt like the last hour.

You couldn’t remember the last time you drank this much, and sometimes sitting on the floor was appealing. You’d get up in a second and find the bathroom. You shut your eyes a moment, you head spinning, before being scared by a sudden voice.

“Tutor girl,” he said. You could hear the smirk on his face without even needing to see him. “What are you doing in my room?”

“I was looking for the bathroom,” you slurred. “But I needed a rest and the floor seemed comfortable.”

“You were only a few feet short,” he chuckled.

You shrugged, laughing to yourself. He sat down beside you, making your body stiffen at his sudden presence so close to you. You were expecting him to kick you out of his room.

He held a bottle in his hand, passing it over to you to take a sip. You took a swig and instantly regretted it, your face grimacing in disgust. Rafe chuckled beside you as he took a swig himself.

“You know,” he started. “I underestimated you, tutor girl.”

There he goes again with that nickname. Will he ever call you by your name?

“Because I beat you at beer pong?” you asked.

“Nah I knew you’d be good at beer pong,” he answered. “You were probably doing some physics shit in your head or something.”

You let out a cackle, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. You hadn’t meant to laugh that hard.

“You have a great laugh, y/n,” he slurred, tilting his head back.

You stopped at the sound of your name leaving his mouth. You don’t think you ever heard it.

“Wow,” you sighed. “Not tutor girl?”

“Oh you’re still tutor girl,” he replied quickly. “But I meant I underestimated how cool you were. You’re fun.”

“You’re just drunk,” you said. “Tomorrow you’ll go back to ignoring me except to make fun of me.”

He stared at you blankly, not knowing what to say. For once, he didn’t have a witty comment. You didn’t know he did the opposite of ignore you. In fact, he was always paying attention to you. The way your eyebrows furrowed when you were typing your notes out, the way you leaned your chin on your hand when the professor was talking, the smoothness of your voice when you explained a concept to a student. He saw you.

“I’m not making fun, tutor girl,” he whispered. “You’re very intriguing.”

“There it is again,” you sighed. You stood up finally, your urge to pee stronger than ever. You snatched the bottle from Rafe and took one more swig before finally going to find the bathroom.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Monday morning, you sat in class, chin resting in your hand as the professor drawled on. You pushed your glasses up as they slid down your nose. You practically jumped out of your seat when the class was finished. You were starving.

“Tutor girl!” you heard a voice call from behind you. You turned to see none other than Rafe jogging towards you, backpack slung over his shoulder.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you asked, annoyed he was keeping you away from the sandwich you were about to buy.

“I have a proposition,” he started. “I need help with this class. My grades are slipping and I just can’t understand anything. Would you help me?”

You let out a laugh, stopping when you realized he was serious.

“Are you messing with me?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I seriously need help. And I thought who better to ask than…tutor girl!”

You rolled your eyes, as always. But you reluctantly agreed.

“Can we start now?” he pleaded, clutching his textbook in his hands.

“Rafe,” you sighed. “I’m starving, can we do another day?”

“I’ll buy you lunch!” he exclaimed. “Your prize for beating me at beer pong.”

“Fine,” you agreed. “But we aren’t friends just because we sat on the floor drunk together.”

“Whatever you say, tutor girl.”

You rolled your eyes once more, but couldn’t help but lift the corners of your mouth, knowing without having to look that he was smiling as he trailed behind you.

[roseglazedlens]

Okay let's forget about all the agents Kennedy, alcohol and trauma in RC, Ada...ect,and turn to Leon s Kennedy as Your husband's policeman 36years is receiving a promotion to Chief Police Officer cuz I can't see my bbguy suffer more :(,you can add some nsfw if you want to

thank you for requesting lovely! i'm sorry i write so much angst hahhaha, but here is a change of pace! i've never written anything purely fluff (lol) and so many characters, so this is a challenge! i hope you enjoy!

⦑ take me home ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn! reader synopsis: you throw a surprise party for your boyfriend's last day at work after his job promotion. content: pure fluff, established relationship, flirting, alcohol, leon is tipsy, but he's cute & not depressed ab it. claire, rebecca, jill & chris works in RPD. « 1 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

Today is an unusual sight for the usually hectic police department in Raccoon City. The office is adorned with balloons, garlands, and laughter, celebrating not just the promotion of a well-loved officer, Leon S. Kennedy, but also his farewell as he relocates to a new precinct.

You should be happy for your boyfriend – and you are – but part of you will miss watching over his figure from your desk, casting flirtatious grins back and forth in attempts to distract each other from the rigorous paperwork.

A banner suspends between the light fixtures, observing the lopsided words ‘CONGRATULATIONS’, strings twisted into the knot. The culprit of this handiwork, Chris, puffs out his chest proudly, while Rebecca looks at him in disbelief.

“Chris, leave the decorations to Rebecca, please.” You break apart the squabble forming between them. Rebecca smirks as Chris descends the ladder, defeated. “Don’t forget everyone, this is supposed to be a surprise.”

“Claire, where is the card?” You interrogate the next person in your line of sight, who happens to be Claire. All whilst you signal Rebecca to tilt the banner slightly upwards. “Has everyone signed?”

“Yep. It’s just you left.” She hands over the card, before resuming to the case files on her computer.

The card scrawls with heartfelt blessings from your team, a lot of ‘good lucks’, ‘we’ll miss you’, and nostalgia when he was just a rookie. He worked hard for ten years to be a sergeant, and you know he deserves this.

You pick up your pen – contemplating the words to express how amazing he is, how you will love him forever, how you will miss the sneaky make-out sessions in the work janitor’s closet.

…Marvin will be so proud of you. Yours, ....

The vibration in your pocket cuts you off mid-sentence – Jill. She is supposed to be on the case with Leon for another thirty minutes. You read the text out loud.

“I can't hold him back much longer, we're on our way. ETA in five minutes!!”

The floor scrambles in panic to finalise their positions. Rebecca quickly secures the banner with some tape. Claire is passing party poppers. Chris is putting away the ladder to the storeroom.

As Jill enters the space with Leon following behind, all the confetti releases at once.

The rainbow plastic ribbons catching in his hair like stardust in sand. You catch a glimpse of surprise in his reaction, following with a light on the corner of his lips.

“To Leon!” your team lifts their glasses high in the air, sipping beers and cocktails all night. Leon is the star tonight – you can barely talk to him without two other people buying him drinks all night along.

You catch him a whole two hours later in the circle booth, after some of the crowd has dispersed, his cheeks redden from the many drinks consumed all in a few hours. You squeeze yourself through three different people to sit yourself next to Leon.

“Having fun?” You try to get his attention by nudging at his forearm. “Don’t get too drunk though, I have to take you home.”

Leon lifts his gaze, when he sees you right by him, a grin tug at his face almost immediately. His cerulean eyes somehow more glazy than usual.

“Thank you for doing all of this. You are so good for me.” Despite the scent of beer merging with his breath, the grin on his face remains childlike. One that you only see in his drunkenness, which he lets down his guard to show more of his emotional side.

“Everyone helped. Not just me.” You are thinking how cute Leon looks when he’s drunk. “You are well-loved in here. I’m just the facilitator.”

“How about you work for me?” Leon brings the back of your palm to his lips. “I can pull some strings, now that I’m sergeant.”

“Sergeant Kennedy, using your influence for personal goals? It’s not even your first day.” You quip with a slight chuckle.

“And what if I am?” He peppers kisses from your palm to your fingers, the faint heat from his lips sizzle through your nerves. “Sure you’ll enjoy less time on the field, and more time in my office.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” You decide to let this banter go on a little further. “I expect to be well-compensated for my extra duties.”

“That will depend on your performance.” He raises a sassy eyebrow, pulling you closer until your noses touch.

“Good thing I always hit my KPI’s.”

“I do like a hardworking employee…”

Eyes fluttering shut slowly, you smile into the kiss. His lips lay gently on yours, sucking slightly at your cupid’s bow. Your bodies move closer, so close that you rests your hand on Leon’s thigh for support. The kiss deepens further, sloppier, tongues intertwined until…

“Ahem.” Chris clears his throat loudly, snapping you back to the present.

You open your eyes to find the whole table staring at the two of you. Your gaze finds its way to Jill, which she immediately, most awkwardly, rolls her eyes to the ceiling as if there is something to see there. Claire is nonchalant, sipping her beer and simply enjoying the scene.

You retract the tongue that is still shoved in Leon’s mouth. A hint of pink is running up your cheeks, you don’t need to see it to feel it. Leon, however, is unphased by the attention from his coworkers. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps it’s knowing that he won’t be seeing these guys next Monday.

“So… next rounds on me. Who’s in?” Chris attempts to diffuse the awkwardness, which earns a few curt nods from the table.

Leon holds you by the hand, picking you up from the seat. “Sorry Chris, we’re gonna call it. It’s been a long night. Thanks for the party, everyone.”

You two shuffle past Chris and Jill out of the booth, after a round of hugs with everyone, you can practically feel Leon sprinting out the bar.

“How ‘bout we continue where we left off at my place?”

Your cheeks turn a deeper red. It seems like he will be the one to take you home tonight instead.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost (pm me for tags) © roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[bradshawed]

NEWTON'S LAWS, Chapter 5

main & series masterlist !

introducing... the lion and his lioness prey pairing: f1!raphael cameron & reporter!reader

An apple fell from a tree and well... you know the rest. Much like Newton's apple, you fell right in his path, the lion's path, and he deemed you his prey. Silly boy. That was his first mistake.

A tale as old as time, Newton & his gravity, faceclaim: HoYeon Jung & various pinterest girls

warnings! fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of w*rd, f1 terminology

chapter 4, chapter 5...

John B. Routledge just clinches the victory from Rafe Cameron at the Chinese Grand Prix as Cameron storms from P17 on the grid to take P2 ahead of unexpected podium finisher Pierre Gasly.

Rafe Cameron delivered on of the all-time great wet weather drives in the Chinese Grand Prix, going from P17 on the grid to a podium finish, stamping his presence in the title race.

Cameron had been left frustrated after Sunday morning's delayed qualifying session, when a crash for Lance Stroll and subsequent red flag saw him drop out of Q2 along with team mate Cleo Anderson - with Cameron starting a penalised P17 after a five-place grid drop for fitting a new internal combustion engine.

READ MORE: Verstappen P2 at Chinese Grand Prix after stunning recovery from P17 as Alpine score shock podium

But a determined Cameron then overcame a tumultuous and rain-affected Chinese Grand Prix, climbing to P11 on the very first lap before making his way all the way up to P2 behind Ferrari's John B. Routledge when the race was red-flagged on Lap 26 of 56 after Franco Colapinto crashed his Williams - Cameron then handed a free first pit stop by the stoppage.

Routledge then nailed the rolling restart when racing resumed, managing to keep Cameron following the subsequent Lap 43 restart following a Safety Car intervention for Topper Thornton's retirement - Routledge going on to open a gap over Cameron in the remaining laps after a wet weather performance for the ages.

DRIVER OF THE DAY: A Cameron masterclass earns your vote in China

1. John B. Routledge (Ferrari), 2. Rafe Cameron (Red Bull), 3. Pierre Gasly (Alpine)

TRACK INTERVIEWS (Conducted by y/n)

...

Q: Rafe what an incredible race. Yesterday, did you have any thoughts that you might finish on the podium today, with the weather, or it was tough? It was a tough weekend.

Rafe CAMERON: Yeah, I mean, my emotions today have been... a roller coaster, you know, with qualifying being really unlucky with that red flag. You know, starting P17, I knew that it was going to be a very tough race, but we stayed out of trouble. We made the right calls. We stayed calm. And we were flying. So all of these things together, of course, made that result possible. But I mean, we could have done better to win here.

Q: I need to ask you. The first corner, when you went to the inside, you saw there was a lot of grip. And then you started to use that a lot. The overtaking looked fantastic from the outside. Did you know there was a little bit more grip in the inside because you kept on doing fastest laps and using that line?

RC: Yeah, I mean, it's very hard to pass around here with the new tarmac. There’s only one line that you can take. But, yeah, I just knew that I had to go for it. It's, of course, always easy to front lock, just trying to balance that out. And I had confidence on the brakes as well. That helps. And, yeah, Turn 1 is always a great corner to pass.

Q: It was 17 fastest laps, so well done, Rafe. Thank you. You made the crowd stand up all the way.

RC: It wasn't my best performance but I hope they enjoyed it. You don't need to pretend to know a lot about racing, I know what you really want to ask about so go ahead and get it over and done with.

Q: I've got everything I need, thank you. Pierre, it's good to see you. It was nice to see you before the race. Did you look like it could have been on the podium since that moment?

...

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know. And, if you want to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts (credits to Zya).

taglist for f=ma, @dearapril @edwardslvrr @zya8tracks @potatodirectioner @poppysrin @a-beaverhausen @judesgfirl @pogueprincesa @chalametfan

note! credits to zya for her layout xx twitter graphic ft. @judesgfirl and @pogueprincesa! thoughts on rafe? is he under pressure or just an ass?

if there are any f1 girlies which race does this remind u of?

[sserpente]

Happy Ending

Synopsis: Out of all people you could have been assigned to for your lifeguard training, it had to be Billy Hargrove. You hate the guts out of his cocky and flirty demeanour and during your lessons, Billy has no mercy and it shows—muscle cramps torment your entire body after another intense training session, and (un)fortunately, Billy takes notice and offers to give you a massage. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Request from anon. You asked, I delivered! But hear me out… what if he gave RC a seductive massage beforehand? ;-)

Words: 2654 Warnings: pure, shameless, and filthy smut

“Ugh…” You groaned, rolling your shoulders. Your lifeguard training was killing you. You’d be as stiff as a piece of log by the time you’d made it through the final exam. That’s how you’d end up saving drowning folk. They’d just use you like a piece of wood.

But you were determined to push through, if anything to prove a point. Billy Hargrove aka the pain of your existence, was pushing you to your fucking limits. Out of all people you could have been assigned to… well, technically, it had been a fifty-fifty chance. But boy, would you have preferred Heather over him.

Billy was a cliché on two legs. A cocky boy from California with abs, a womanizer, and a classic jock—not to mention he preferred to resolve disputes with his fists. You knew what he stood for and what his intentions were with the women he wooed and you hated yourself for being insanely attracted to him. Nothing good would come out of giving in to his recurring flirting attempts. He knew exactly what he was doing—knew about the effect he had on women and he was bathing in it. His ego was too big for his head, that was for sure; and the fact that during your lifeguard lessons, Billy repeatedly had his hands all over your half-naked body didn’t exactly make things easier for you.

You groaned once more, attempting to stretch a little. You had absolutely no idea how you had survived the past hour.

“You okay?” Billy came walking into the changing rooms, still wearing nothing more than his red swimming trunks. He was chewing on gum, a sly smirk playing on his lips when he noticed your struggles. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yeah… just tense. Muscles cramps.”

“I wasn’t going too… hard on you, was I?” He asked, playfulness playing in his voice. Damn him.

“No… I’m just not used to excessive workouts every day.” You realised your mistake, or rather, your poor word choice, the moment he started grinning.

“Oh, you’re not?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, stop it already. I hate you, remember?”

“I can help you, you know,” he said, unimpressed by my complaint and clearly still amused.

Raising your eyebrows, you glared him down suspiciously. “Oh yeah?”

Billy nodded. “I know a few… massage techniques.”

Your eyes widened and you took, no, jumped a step back.

“Absolutely not!” Billy’s hands slowly gliding all over your body, kneading away the knots? That… that sounded horrifying, it sounded… really hot. Which was why you could, under no circumstances, agree to it.

“Come on… Are you scared it could be… good?” He leaned in close and you cursed internally. Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I’m afraid of, for Fuck’s sake.

“No. I just… I don’t need you of all people to massage me, Billy. If I need to release some tension, I’ll go to a professional.” You winced, again slapping yourself mentally for your poor word choice. Billy chuckled.

“Follow me.”

You didn’t know why but you did. Billy led you to the lifeguard office in the back of the building. There wasn’t much in here—just some equipment, first aid kits, a surprisingly neat desk, and a low treatment table for injured pool guests.

“Lie down, stomach down.” He pointed at the treatment table. You hesitated. This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea. So why the fuck did you move toward it and did as you were told?

“Is it just your shoulders and your back?” Billy went to grab something from the sink area—you could only assume it was some sort of massage oil. You doubted this was part of the equipment here, he must have brought it himself at some point.

“Yeah…” you croaked out.

You tensed, staring at the wall and avoiding his gaze at any cost when Billy slid the straps of your swimsuit off your shoulders and then proceeded to pour some massage oil into his hands. He rubbed them together, the soothing sound sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine, and then… you felt his hands on you.

Billy’s fingers were surprisingly soft and yet, they went to town firmly. A moan escaped your lips when he located the knots and began to massage them away.

“Told you I’m good,” he purred. You groaned by way of a response. Because the fucker was right. It felt amazing. He felt amazing. Billy knew exactly what he was doing—you didn’t even protest when, after a while, he pulled your swimsuit down further to reveal the entirety of your back. Up and down his hands went, exploring your bare skin and working away all of the tension his training had caused in the first place.

You could get used to this. You could fall asleep to this. Fall asleep and dream of Billy’s hands further down… no, stop! That’s exactly what he wants to achieve!

You were about to protest and opened your mouth when he travelled south with a start, testing the tense flesh on the back of your thighs. He tsked at you when his thumbs rolled over the knots and tense spots.

“I don’t think you were completely honest with me, doll.”

“I’m fine…”

“Flip over,” he suddenly said.

You ripped your eyes open, only realising now that you had closed them. You were naked from the waist up. If you turned around now, you’d give him a full front-row view of your tits. He wished, huh?

“I’m good, Billy.”

“Flip. Over,” he repeated. His voice was darker now, almost a little intimidating and… taunting in the most delicious and fuck, sexual way.

Grunting, you pulled your swimsuit back up just enough for it to cover your breasts and rolled on your back, meeting his blue eyes and staring daggers at him. He only chuckled.

“You’re really cute when you’re pretending to be angry.”

“I’m not pretending. I am angry.” Angry at how good it felt. Angry at how good he made you feel.

Billy smirked and poured some more oil into his palms. Next thing you knew, he was working your thighs so thoroughly that you tensed up in order not to wriggle around.

“Relax, babe…” Ha, easy for him to say. You had no doubt that he was enjoying this, perhaps even more than you were. Especially when his thumbs moved toward dangerous territory. Again and again, he grazed your inner thighs just a little too close to where you kept claiming he didn’t have an effect on you. A circumstance that was getting harder and harder to deny because fuck, you were growing wet. You could already feel the heat pooling between your legs, your breathing quickening.

And before you even knew it, your legs fell open further, inviting him in. It was over there and then. Fuck it. Fuck him, literally. You could only hope he had locked the door behind him. He won. He fucking won.

Your lips parted as Billy’s hands took the invitation. You bucked your hips the moment his thumb brushed directly over your still clothed clit, your nails digging into the treatment table, though this time, he didn’t tell you to relax. Instead, he did it again. And again. And again.

For a brief moment, he paused. And then, when you didn’t protest, he slowly pushed the thin stripe of fabric out of the way to reveal your glistening pussy to his greedy eyes. You were panting at this point, lost in the pleasure he was promising you without even speaking a word.

His fingers were slippery with the massage oil, his left thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasped when you felt him push two fingers inside of you. He fucked you languidly, savouring every single second and you bucked your hips and arched your back, meeting his thrusts, silently begging for more.

You almost flinched upon hearing his seductive voice again. “I think that swimsuit needs to go, doll. It’s in the way… and we wouldn’t want to get massage oil all over it, now would we?”

Biting your lower lip, you hummed in agreement. All of a sudden, you did not mind him seeing you topless anymore at all. Quite on the contrary—it turned you on even more knowing that you’d be lying before him completely exposed, all his for the taking.

Billy did all the work for you. He removed his fingers from your pussy and chuckled when you whined at the loss. He then hooked his fingers into the hem of your swimsuit, pulling it all the way down—at an antagonisingly slow speed—to your ankles. You kicked them off, unable to hide your trembling. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this aroused, except, perhaps, this one time you’d been unable to fall asleep and instead decided to masturbate to the thought of Billy fucking you. Shit, you were a goner. A complete and utter goner.

“Jesus, I knew you’d look even hotter without the swimsuit.”

You moaned in response, still unable to meet his gaze. You kept your eyes shut, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when his left hand cupped one of your breasts as if they’d been made for him. His other hand returned to your slick cunt. Sweet, wet noises echoed through the otherwise empty room as he fingerfucked you all the while the hand on your breast kept teasing your hardening nipple. By the time he moved on to the other breast, you were breathing heavily, a warm knot tightening in your stomach—fast.

And yet again, you had to admit… Billy knew exactly what he was doing, working you toward what already felt like the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. His voice alone almost tipped you over the edge.

“Do you wanna come, babe?” he rasped.

“Please…” You barely recognised your own voice at this point. Begging Billy Hargrove for an orgasm… you’d most definitely lost your marbles.

But before you could slap yourself for your horny stupidity, you fell. Billy made you see stars, his fingers working your cunt like an instrument and hitting all the right keys. You clenched around his fingers, drenching them in your juices as your toes curled and you came hard.

He made sure help you ride it out before he released you, wet hands gliding all over your bare body. He massaged your breasts for a little while until you came back to your senses, your eyes still closed in pure and utter bliss. You didn’t protest when he tilted your head and stroked your neck.

For just a brief moment, he stopped touching you. Then, you felt something hard pressing against your parted lips. You didn’t care what you were, didn’t care that he was a player and would move on to the next girl after this. You didn’t even care that you were supposed to hate him. You wanted Billy and you wanted him now. His cock in your mouth seemed like a good place to start.

Moaning with relish, you closed your lips around his tip and sucked gently, testing the waters. You’d given a couple of blowjobs before but with him, you felt the odd need to impress with your skills. The results were almost immediate. Billy sucked in air audibly when you took him deeper, tongue darting forward to tease his slit. He pushed forward slightly—surprisingly patient, he let you take him inch by inch at your own pace until you rolled over to taste him properly.

You were done for the very moment you tasted a salty drop of precum on your tongue. Accompanied by another moan, you started bopping your head up and down, your left hand busying itself with his tight balls. You released him with a smacking noise, right hand covering what you could not take, and suckled on his tip like a popsicle before licking over the entire underside of his shaft.

“Fuck…” Billy threw his head back just when you opened your eyes. Pleased with his reaction, you repeated the motion and then took him in your mouth again, faster this time. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, thrusting forward now and slowly taking control. You let him. You let him fuck your mouth until your gag reflex hit and your eyes were watering and yet, when he pulled out of your mouth, leaving your lips swollen and tingling, you made a disappointed noise.

“Where?” was all he said. You bit your lower lip and nodded toward the desk. He didn’t need to elaborate on his question. You knew exactly what he meant and quite frankly, you were too far gone to back out now.

“Condom?” you breathed out as you slid off the treatment table and approached the desk naked, your limbs still trembling a little from your intense orgasm earlier.

“Yeah…” You figured he went to grab one from his bag stored away in the corner, always prepared for a quick fuck with a girl he’d wrapped around his finger for sport. As much as you attempted to force yourself to, you couldn’t complain about it. Not right now. Not when you were desperate for him to finally fuck you and get that remaining tension—the tension between the two of you—out of the way.

Billy didn’t disappoint. His blue eyes were dark with lust when he returned to you without his trunks and quite an impressive erection still glistening from your saliva under the thin latex of the condom. He flipped you around so your hips hit the edge of the desk and bent you forward, fingertips ghosting over your spine.

You shivered, your lips parting to beg him to put it in already when he knocked all air from your body. Billy sank himself into you with but one eager thrust, a groan escaping his lips in the process. He grabbed your hips tightly, holding you in place for him as he began to fuck you, withdrawing almost entirely only to plunge back in so forcefully your breathing became uneven.

Your hands reached for the opposite edge of the desk to hold on to something, your legs almost dangling in the air. On your tiptoes, you kept your arse lifted to meet his hungry strokes. Hunting his own pleasure now, you could all but let your eyes roll the back of your head. He was fucking you so good… Billy hit all the right spots inside you and his stamina… fuck, all of the other guys you had been with would have creamed their pants long before you could have brought your lips anywhere near their dick.

It felt good… it felt so good… oh god.

“You gonna come for me again, babe?”

You nodded and hummed in response, too dazed for a coherent answer, feeling yourself tightening around his hard cock right before you exploded a second time. Pleasure coursed through your body, filling you from head to toe.

Billy grunted. He fucked you through your climax relentlessly, stilled only moments later when his own release overwhelmed him and he emptied himself into the condom. Shit, for a second you wished you’d have asked him to fuck you raw just so you could feel him coating your walls with his seed. You whined when he withdrew. But there was always a next time. You’d make sure of it.

You were certain now that you didn’t actually hate Billy Hargrove. You had hated how much you had wanted him.

“I think I’ll need a… ‘massage’ after every training session from now on. Your lessons are so exhausting,” you said, panting.

Billy helped you turn around and stand up straight, naked bodies pressed against each other. He grinned, his lips ghosting over yours. “You know what, I think so too, doll.”

A/N: Check out my blog for more Imagines and my original novel(s)! ♥

[kiennwrites]

MSTB ATE MY FRIEND

A sapphic dark academia cosmic horror novella

A UCI physics student infected by a cosmic parasite gets hungry.

11k words | print & ebook | 5/29

Preorder | Sample Chapter | charity

with the science budget cuts in the US, this book was very much unplanned for. but the current administration has demonstrated nothing but hostility against DEI and science. aspiring astrophysicists whose dreams have been shattered

a bit scared throwing it out as my first official release as the audience for this book (new adult?) is very different than my usual. so please keep in mind!

PREORDER | SAMPLE | 70% off at 99¢ | 5/29

all proceeds go to physics student organizations at uci.

HELEN HERNANDEZ. An undergraduate physics student set for grad school- until her friend, Emmy Yuasa, goes missing. Dragged away by the eldritch horror beneath Aldrich. Zot, zot, zot. The strings are starving.

I sat alone in Aldrich Park. Griffiths Electrodynamics in one hand. A cryptozoologist's Field Guide to Cryptids in the other. Black painted nails and a big bottle of alcohol between my knees. Laughing to myself in the shade of a billowy tree as mud mucked my slacks...

Content warnings include swearing, alcohol, death, violence, blood, gore, body horror, psychological horror, cannibalism, cults, and parasitic infection.

FULL SAMPLE HERE

CHAPTER 1

DRINK. DERIVE. DESECRATE.

The key to being a successful physicist, or whatever the devil doeth. As remarked by Goodstein in States of Matter, Boltzmann and Ehrenfest died doing physics. It is only logical that I follow suit.

I sat alone in Aldrich Park. Griffiths Electrodynamics in one hand. A cryptozoologist's Field Guide to Cryptids in the other. Black painted nails and a big bottle of alcohol between my knees. Laughing to myself in the shade of a billowy tree as mud mucked my slacks.

Like any good pupil of the physical sciences, I spent my free time drunk and skimming through the chapters. Week old tequila staining the pages, ink bleeding and weeping like runny mascara. Alcohol was the choice barbiturate amongst physics students. It eased the brain and, as it turns out, made solutions come easier. But this time I couldn't focus. She was on my mind.

Emmy Yuasa. Missing since the beginning of winter quarter. My closest friend and other half.

I shut the book and took a swig. Spilled even more over that rancid blue cover. Fellow undergrads passed by without so much as a second glance. It was midterm season after all.

The things I said to her.

Things I couldn't take back.

I got down to the last drop. Said goodbye to my Pink Whitney. Swayed to my feet. Took to the inner ring road. Thinking and drifting.

No. Whatever it was, it wasn't a kraken. You need water for that. And the walls of MSTB were drier than linear algebra at eight in the morning.

Winter quarter. Your typical lab session for the 52 series. Genius physics majors that couldn't figure out how to build a simple RC circuit. The professor let us stay after class. Pitch black outside the window. I wonder if he pitied us. Girls who had no clue what they were doing. Seniors retaking classes we did shit in.

We established ground and were trying to get a reading when the signal on the oscilloscope boxes went haywire. Fritzing and stretching to thousands of kilovolts on the screen. Now, I am stupid, but that shouldn't have been possible. Nothing got fried.

Emmy looked up from a dusty old book she'd found in one of the drawers. Searching for relics. All she found was a ledger full of names. Probably cursed by the tears of previous lab students. A resigned look and a pout on her lips. "C'mon Helen. Maybe we should just go home."

I gave a short laugh. Feeling foolish myself. I thought I'd prepared enough ahead of lab time, but thirty minutes had turned into an hour and neither of us knew what the hell we were doing. We were let downs. I was a let down. "No! Come on. We can do this. Maybe we just plugged it in wrong."

Emmy scoffed. "What if we plug it up Wight's-"

A crack. From the floor. I glanced down. UCI and its shitty buildings-

Tendrils.

Bursting upwards.

Thick ropes of thousands of twisted and fraying threads. Gnarled and snaggled like roots or hair. Strings that writhed as though alive. Clear and flickering like the lights above.

They snapped around Emmy's neck. Strangled her. The dendrite feelers hooking into her skin. She couldn't even scream.

I don't think any web trainings could have prepared me for this.

I lunged for the first thing I could get my hands on. Dragged an air track from its station on the table, a long metal beam with the frictionless gliders still stuck to it. Swung.

The air track passed right through it. Clattered heavy on the floor.

One lab session and I'm pretty sure we just disproved the laws of physics.

I thought of slamming some radioactive sources down its throat. But the tendrils had no mouth, no eyes. Only strings. Strings twisting together under one mind.

Emmy rasped. Blood weeping from the tiny holes pricked into her neck. I met her eyes. Whispered the words I could never take back.

She softened. The way she often did entering a final exam when we knew it would be the end of us. And her limbs went limp.

I threw one last oscilloscope before the tendrils dragged her into the floors of MSTB. Passing straight through as though she were made of nothing but light. Swallowed alive.

A final scream for my name. Helen. Helen Hernandez, the girl who failed to save anyone.

I don't even remember what I did. I came to with my knees aching over the sticky floor. Nails clawed raw. The floor before me streaked red.

We were supposed to get boba.

Of course it didn't have to make any sense at all. Professor Wight, on the phone right outside the door, didn't see a thing. Didn't hear us scream.

I did everything I could. Didn't sleep, didn't eat. I demanded a search of the building. Begged the police department to take it seriously. They didn't.

Spring rolled around. I could have graduated by now. But Emmy was still missing and we were supposed to be in this together.

I took matters into my own hands. Broke into the same exact room to search for clues.

The moment the smell hit I remembered everything.

The string-like tentacles bursting from the waxy floor.

The book. In the drawer.

I tore through every station in the room, threw open the cupboards. That ledger, near empty yet full of names. But just like Emmy and everything else touched by Irvine Company it was gone. Gone in an instant.

And I was next.

It was a terrible feeling. The kind that makes you sick to the point of vomiting. Sludge sinking from your throat to your stomach until your palms got wet from all the trembling and feverishness and cold shock sweat. The ache in my chest knowing that I had let her down. I had let Emmy down.

The shadows lengthened. I came to. Booked it the hell out of there.

Now, my training in physics left me with a great deal of trust in textbooks and literature. But a tortured student knows when to give up. Reading that book of cryptids, I knew. The answer was obvious. Trivial even. This was something different. Something inconceivable. Something confined to the grounds of the University of California, Irvine. And to stop it I had to kill the thing inside the walls of MSTB.

FULL SAMPLE HERE

The answer was obvious. Trivial even. This was something different. Something inconceivable. Something confined to the grounds of the University of California, Irvine. And to stop it I had to kill the thing inside the walls of MSTB.

PREORDER HERE

[thisghosts-obsessions-again]

Guys, he made her a special sandwich i---

[ostentia]

Pretenses

It's time for Dmitry x Lane #4! Part 1 is here, Part 2 here, and Part 3 here.

Title: "Pretenses"

Summary: Called into the General's office to bandage the wounds she gave him the night before, Lane wonders—has the madness that gripped them last night passed, or will it take new form in the light of a new day?

Pairing: Lane x Dmitry [Heaven’s Secret: Requiem]

Word Count: 2,036

Rating: T

TW: None

Taglist: @rc-catalog

Pretenses

The walk from the training field to the building that housed Dmitry’s office was quick, but it could have taken an eternity. Lane spent the entire time carefully schooling her features into what she hoped was an impassive façade as an unpleasant fear of being exposed gnawed at the edges of her mind.

She wanted, needed, this to appear to be nothing but two colleagues, a squad member and her superior officer, walking together.

Every time she stole a glance at Dmitry, it appeared that that was what he wanted, too—he walked slowly, matching her pace, but he didn’t look at her. The calm, detached look she had gotten used to never left his face, every inch the untouchable General leading his subordinate through ordinary operations.

To an outside observer, nothing would seem amiss. A veteran of a childhood spent hiding her true feelings and play-acting at perfection while the truth rotted in the lonely corners of her family home, Lane considered herself an expert at revealing only what she wanted to. But she couldn’t stop herself from wondering—if he were to look at her, would he see something she didn’t know how to hide?

She suspected that he, the only one in the squad who had managed to pull genuine reactions, genuine feelings, from recesses of her soul she thought she’d lost, just might. But what she couldn’t grasp, the question driving her mad, was what that something might be.

As they drew near the building, he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him into the lobby and up the stairs. She had climbed these stairs many times before, but never like this—every other time she had been called to the General’s office, there had been a professional pretense. She had entered his office as a squad member delivering progress reports or, as was the case last night, as a suspect in Noah’s disappearance. There had always been defensible reasons for her presence.

Today was different. Today, she was entering his office as a woman who had attacked him last night. A woman who had thrown herself at him and kissed him. And now, she had been explicitly invited to his office to bandage the wound she’d given him.

The door of his office closed behind them, and, steeling herself, she turned to face him.

Remember why you’re here.

Answers. The Book. Not for him.

*****

The training session hadn’t gone how he’d planned. He’d had every intention of treating this like any other training session he would have planned with any other new recruit, and those certainly didn’t involve orchestrating situations where he would have to touch them. Fall into the snow with them. Hold them against his body.

Reveal personal information about himself.

There was something about the way she looked at him with a carefully impassive face, but a question always lurking in her eyes. She needed something from him. What that was, he wasn’t sure, but a nagging desire to find out hadn’t left his thoughts in days.

Dmitry was no stranger to people needing things from him—as the squad’s leader, people needed things from him all day, every day. Orders, information, assurance. He gave it all, as easy as breathing. It was one of few things that made sense in his life nowadays.

With Lane, it was different. The only thing she had asked him for was information he didn’t have, and the only thing she had given him were more questions. She left him wanting, wondering, in ways he hadn’t experienced since before the apocalypse had begun to chip away at his humanity.

None of his painstakingly honed coping mechanisms worked with her—it was impossible to respond to her with the rote discipline that was enough for every other member of the squad. Even now, trying and failing not to watch her as he followed her up the stairs, he was reminded of that fact.

I should have gone first.

But he hadn’t, and so he watched her. The way her long hair swayed gently against her back, the way her hands brushed against her thighs, the way her muscles tensed and released as she climbed. And as the door shut behind them and she turned to face him, he realized, in a fatalistic sort of way, this isn’t going to go according to plan, either.

*****

Lane held her breath, feeling her heart skip a beat as her eyes met his. He was watching her—looked like he had already been watching her—with an odd expression on his face. Still alert, still cautious, but almost...curious. Like he had accepted something, and wanted to know what would happen next.

She wanted to know, too.

“There’s gauze and medical scissors in my desk,” he said, crossing the office to sit down tiredly on the old green couch. “Top left. Don’t go rummaging around, and don’t think of trying anything. They’re not sharp enough.”

She shot him a quick, searching look—did he really let me in here thinking I might attack him again?—but he looked relaxed, one corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. So she nodded, returning the smile, and went to his desk, where she quickly found what she needed. Unspooling the gauze, she cut off a length, then made a show of returning the scissors to the desk, loudly closing the drawer, and displaying her hands to him.

The playfulness of the moment quickly vanished, swallowed up by a strange, swooping sensation that flowed through her entire body, when she was rewarded with an indulgent look that almost thawed the ice in his eyes.

What is this feeling?

 Taking a deep, steadying breath, she approached him. She would have to get close to him, very close, to do this, and touch him in ways she hadn’t before. Softly, gently. Trying not to consider the implications of what she was about to do, the professional barriers she was about to consciously cross, she reached for him and tentatively touched the bandages.

Her fingers were icy against his neck, and he flinched, small tremors racing across his skin. She drew back slightly, watching his reaction to her, before whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” he said quietly, shifting back to where he was before.

Whatever it is, I’m not the only one feeling it.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them, before reaching out again and gently unwinding the bandage from his neck. There it was—the wound she had left last night. Her resolve crumbled as she stared at it, remembering—

Moving as one, lips crashing together—

Her back, pressed against the cool window—

A sharp bite, a jolt of life running through her—

Warmth, connection, understanding—

She bit her lip, searching for a distraction, then cursed herself as she realized that she couldn’t have possibly found a worse thing to take her mind off of last night. “I—” she fumbled, looking for something, anything. “Does it hurt?”

With an effort that looked almost palpable, he looked away from her lips and sighed. “No,” he said, a hand stealing towards the jagged scar on his left elbow. “I’ve had worse.”

She nodded mutely, wondering if she already knew the story behind that scar and who had given it to him, as she carefully wrapped a length of fresh gauze around his neck. Her fingers brushed against his skin often, and he didn’t lean away, didn’t stop her. He was just still, breathing evenly, allowing her to touch him.

Her task finished, she stepped back and cautiously met his eyes again. Almost immediately, another small jolt ran through her body—he was watching her again, his gaze calculating, as if he were trying to figure something out. Something about her. And as she returned his gaze, she realized, I don’t want to leave. I want answers, too.

Last night had brought nothing but more questions, questions she had turned over and over in her mind all day. Why had she kissed him? Why had warmth spread through her entire body every time he touched her? Why had he, so cold and detached, kissed her back, as if the distraction of the shattered lamp had been the only thing stopping him from ripping her clothes off right then and there?

Would I have let him?

Her eyes trained on him, waiting for a response, she moved slowly, carefully. First from his side to in front of him, then bolder—forward, in between his legs. He didn’t stop her, just tracked her movements with his intent gaze. She needed to know—will it be the same today? Or has this strange madness passed in the light of a new day?

He still wasn’t stopping her. Instead, his hands found her waist, touching her lightly. There was no strength in his grip, just a gentle touch that would have allowed her to step back at any moment if she wanted. But I don’t want that, she realized with sudden clarity. I want to know.

With her heart in her throat and vitality racing through her veins, she reached out tentative hands, one to his face and the other to his neck as she leaned down. There would be no going back after this—there would be no adrenaline, no pretense, to blame this on. There was only a conscious decision that she had made, and that he supported.

She kissed him softly, gently, slowly. He answered in kind, accepting this for what it was: a question, an exploration.

Can you help me feel? Can you help me understand what I’ve lost?

It seemed the answer was yes, as her body warmed and strange sensations swam through her head, too foreign for her to name but too tantalizing for her to walk away from. His lips were soft against hers, his hands tightening—don’t stop—around her waist. She sighed against his lips as a deep desire, more, rose in her, and she moved forward again, into his lap with one knee on each side of his body.

One of his arms looped around her back, pulling her in closer, as he raised his other hand to her hair, wrapping it around his fist. A soft “oh!” escaped her mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss as she sighed into him.

As she touched him, explored him, tasted him, she realized—it’s not just the kiss. It’s him. His hands exploring her body, his tongue teasing hers, his lips warming her from the inside out—everything she thought she had lost began to coalesce, and for once, she felt hope that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to find what she was missing. To recognize herself again in the ruins of this strange new world.

To understand him and what drove him, and unravel her feelings for him.

She drew back at last, nearly holding her breath. She had begun to answer her own questions in his arms, but she had to see him—to know if he would regret having crossed this line with her.

His gaze was inscrutable as he looked up at her. He was still so close to her, his chest warm and firm against hers, his hands still resting on her back, his eyes searching hers. The only thing she was sure of was that there was no regret. She had seen that expression darkening his eyes before and didn’t recognize it now. There were traces of something else, something wild and fleeting that she couldn’t identify, but no regret.

“Lane...” he said quietly, her name falling from his lips like a secret. Then he fell silent, looking away.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do next?

“We don’t have to,” she murmured. “Not now.”

He looked at her again, relieved. “All right. Later.”

No, the madness hadn’t passed. It still gripped her, and him as well—and maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t actually madness at all, but something she had never truly felt before, something with new depths to explore. A mystery just as tempting as the Book, and perhaps just as dangerous, too—but one that she wanted to decipher just as badly.

With him.

[blue-marbles]

Delta Squad Week Day 5: "Brothers" & "We have a problem."

Delta Squad: Vode An (2000 words) by BlueMarbles Chapters: 1/1 Characters: RC-1138 | Delta-38 | Boss, RC-1207 | Delta-07 | Sev, RC-1140 | Delta-40 | Fixer, RC-1262 | Delta-62 | Scorch, Delta Squad (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Introspection, Brotherhood, Combat, Clone Troopers, squad dynamics, Squad Tactics, Canon-Typical Violence Summary: After a successful mission, Delta Squad is waiting for extraction. While his brothers are resting, Boss is on guard. He starts thinking about the lyrics of Vode An, and delves into memories about his brothers and the meaning of brotherhood. But then enemies approach, and Delta Squad has to prove once more that their strength lies in their bonds as brothers in arms. Basically a song fic for Vode An. @deltasquadweek 2025, Day 5. Prompts: "Brothers" and "We have a problem." A translation of the lyrics can be found below the fic.

The night was calm. Boss watched the base of the hill through the scope of his DC-17m. Every now and then, he switched between the different modes of his HUD, just to be on the safe side, making sure he was not missing something. Not that he was expecting trouble. Their mission to sabotage a Separatist production plant had gone well, and they had done their job unnoticed. Now, Delta Squad was waiting at the rendezvous point, ready for extraction. He knew this could take a while - the planet was under blockade and their transport would need to be smuggled through. So waiting it was, no matter the boredom. Boring was good; it meant safety.

Boss realised he had started humming to himself in the privacy of his helmet. Vode an. A song that had accompanied him for much of his life. He glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping brothers. All three of them were in full armour, so similar, yet so different. Fixer was resting against the wall of the ruins they were using for cover, his rifle in his arms, textbook image of how they’d been taught to sleep on a mission. Scorch, next to him, was more sprawled out, his head resting on Fixer’s shoulder, deece in one hand, thermal detonator in the other. And just like he’d always done, even when he was barely more than a tubie, Sev was rolled up into a ball, clinging to his deece like a lifeline. Boss chuckled. 

Yes, they had always been that way, his brothers. Vode an, indeed, he thought, as the song kept playing on in his mind. 

Kote! Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an.

His mind wandered to the day he had first learned that song. He and his brothers, not only the ones in his squad, had stood to attention while a Kaminoan was standing before them, introducing the man who was going to be their training sergeant. The man, Walon Vau,  was lecturing them on their purpose, on the glory that came with being something called “a Mandalorian”, and on the fact that their strength as commandos was in their bonds as a squad. Vau was the first human Boss’d ever seen who didn’t share his genome, and he remembered how startled he had been by how different he looked. Not like Jango Fett. Not like Boss and his brothers. He hadn’t had an inkling that Vau still resembled them more than many other people, that humans and humanoids were diverse beyond imagination.

Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an.

Boss remembered when he first heard about Coruscant during a flash-training session, in a room with hundreds of his brothers, all with headsets and desk consoles. They were taught about the Republic and the Jedi, that they were theirs, that their purpose was to serve and defend them. And that the heart of this Republic and the place where the Jedi lived was called Coruscant. He had wondered how his fate and purpose could be bound to a place that sounded so strange and foreign while watching hundreds of his brothers study the same materials.

Bal kote, darasuum kote

Still watching the landscape around their position, Boss’ mind wandered on to the day everything had changed. The day the war broke out. He remembered how they all were addressed, told that finally they would see the glory of battle, that finally they would serve their purpose. And then, they had been separated, put into gunships, and been shipped off.

Jorso'ran kando a tome.

And then, they had found themselves on Geonosis. Delta Squad had arrived there separately, and it was only when they all reunited that he realised how much safer, active battle or not, he felt with Sev, Scorch, and Fixer around. How much better they performed when together. And that while his purpose might be the glory of the Republic officially, the one he chose for himself had always been keeping his brothers alive. He managed, on Geonosis, many other commando squad leaders did not. It hadn’t been their fault. The Jedi decided to make them play infantry, which was the reason for many brothers being dead after their first real battle. What a kriffin waste. 

Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an.

His squad, his closest brothers, were his priority. Of course, they had always been close, but the war had bound them even closer together. Like when they had been sent to investigate the Prosecutor. Both Scorch and Sev had been taken out and captured by those shabla droids that had infested the ship, and by Trandoshans, a pest even worse. Boss had never voiced how worried and anxious he had been about the possible prospect of not finding them in time, of only being able to confirm them KIA, or not even that. But they had pushed through. They had made it, and the squad came out of that mission even stronger and closer than they had ever been before.

Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an.

But not only his squad were his brothers. They were his priority, but he would always help a brother in need if possible. Like when those di’kute from Omega Squad managed to get themselves stuck on some freighter with no power and barely any oxygen. If there was any way, Boss thought, he would always try to save as many brothers as he could. Because they were brothers, same pod or same sarge, or not.

Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an.

That had always stayed true, even after Boss’ view on the galaxy had begun to shift. He had seen civilian life when they had been sent to hunt terrorists with Omega Squad. This time on Triple Zero had only shown them how different he and all of his brothers were from the civilians they were supposedly fighting for. Coruscant, a place that had now shifted from a vague concept of purpose drilled into him to a real place he knew. He was similarly disillusioned about the Jedi and the Republic. There was no glory in dying for them. They did not care. No, he and his brothers had to care for each other, because next to nobody else would.

Then, sudden movement in his scope snapped Boss out of his memories and back to the present. Fierfek. A whole bunch of droids and a few wets were coming out of the forest on the other side of the meadow that was at the base of the hill. And they were moving with purpose towards their position. Boss didn’t know how, but somehow the Separatists must have found out about either their location or that this was the RV. He did a quick count of their opponents. 25 in total. Tough, but manageable. He saw that they had an artillery piece on a repulsorlift with them, too. That might become interesting. It would be priority to take it out first. 

“Deltas, wake up. We have a problem. We’ve got company.”

His brothers were on their feet and ready in no time. He indicated with a nod in the direction of the advancing force. Before they could form up, the enemy opened artillery fire.

“Incoming!” he shouted and dove for cover behind a ruined wall, covering his head with his arms, and he knew that his brothers had done the same. Then, the world became light, heat, and noise, and he was rattled by the blast. Even through the roar of the explosion, Vode An was still echoing in his mind. But he had better things to do now than to idly hum along.

Bal…Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.

Boss rolled to the side and, with one smooth motion, got up again. Luckily, his Katarn-class armour had taken most of the blow. The ruins they had been hiding in were even more ruined now. Some of the foliage was on fire. He checked his HUD. Fixer and Sev seemed to be fine, but Scorch, having been closest to the blast, was down.

“Four-Oh, administer some bacta to Six-Two,” he ordered, and Fixer moved over to their brother. Then, Boss pointed at the remains of a half-destroyed wall. “Oh-Seven, begin snipe maneuver. Take out anyone getting close enough to the artillery gun to fire it again.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

“Good. I’ll give you cover.”

Boss started firing at the enemy. In his periphery, he saw Fixer helping Scorch back up on his feet.

Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a.

“Sev, stay on it. Scorch, Fixer, with me.” 

Boss started moving down the hill slope, still firing volleys of blasterbolts out of his deece. He felt the adrenaline rush through his blood. They had to somehow get rid of the artillery piece if they wanted to stand a chance.

“Six-Two, can you take out their big gun? Let’s blow them up before they do the same to us. Four-Oh and I will cover you.”

“You know how to make a man happy, Boss!” Scorch was already moving into position. His brothers made sure that every droid or person getting too close to him dropped disabled or dead. Delta Squad knew what they were doing. Scorch got to the artillery position and started working.

With a blink, Boss opened the long-range comm link.

“Delta Squad to Resolute Dawn. The pickup zone has been compromised. We are in active combat. Are you guys making any progress with that blockade?”

The answer came immediately. “Affirmative, Three-Eight. A LAAT/i is on its way. Can you hold your position for about five more minutes?”

Boss chuckled. “Well, what other choice do we have?”

Aruetyc runi solus cet o'r. 

Scorch signalled to Boss that the charges were ready.

“Get clear, Deltas!” Boss ordered and pressed down on the remote. The artillery piece went up in a fireball, and shrapnel went flying. It took down a good number of hostiles, too. 

“Enemies go boom!” Scorch whooped over the comm, barely audible over the blast.

The meadow resembled more of a hellscape now than the peaceful place Boss had watched earlier. Some of it was on fire.

Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.

“Sev, cancel that maneuver and join the party down here,” Boss ordered. He was almost out of ammunition. With a last volley, he emptied the magazine of his DC-17m and switched to his sidearm, a DC-15s. 

He saw Scorch and Fixer take down a B2 Super Battledroid by focusing their fire. Sev, now with them, ran straight up to one of the organics, jumped him, and, with a dark chuckle, buried his knuckle vibroblade in the other man’s throat. Commandos were a force to be reckoned with.

Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a.

The enemy had outnumbered them by far, but now Delta Squad had the upper hand. Boss took down a few more battledroids with his hand blaster. He realised the last survivor of the wets was trying to do a runner.

“Sev?” Boss asked.

“On it.”

It took Sev only one shot, and the woman went down. 

At the same time, Fixer took out the last one of the droids.

Boss surveyed the battlefield. Only a couple of minutes, and they had turned the meadow into a tableau of scrap metal, dead bodies and flames. They had won.

Aruetyc runi trattok'o.

“Deltas, status?” He asked.

“Couldn’t be happier,” Sev said, wiping his vibroblade clean on a piece of cloth. Boss didn’t wanna know where he had gotten it from. 

“All good,” Fixer reported. “But I think Six-Two’s not up to full health, sarge.”

“Yeah,” Scorch said noncommittally, holding his side. 

Boss nodded. He could now hear the faint noise of the larty approaching. “Give him some more bacta.”

Fixer started moving over to his brother immediately. “Yes, sir.”

“Never say no to bacta,” Scorch said. 

Boss smiled.

Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an!

Yes, these were his brothers, and his brothers were his purpose. He looked at them, one after another. 

“Well then, area clear, Deltas. Good job. That is how it’s done, ner vode.”

Translation of the lyrics of Vode An: Kote! (Glory!) Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an. (One indomitable heart, Brothers all.) Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an. (We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all.) Bal kote, darasuum kote, (And glory, eternal glory,) Jorso'ran kando a tome. (We shall bear its weight together.) Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an. (Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all.) Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an. (One indomitable heart, Brothers all.) Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an. (We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all.) Bal… (And…) Motir ca'tra nau tracinya. (Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame.) Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a. (Our vengeance burns brighter still.) Aruetyc runi solus cet o'r. (Every last traitorous soul shall kneel.) Motir ca'tra nau tracinya. (Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame.) Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a. (Our vengeance burns brighter still.) Aruetyc runi trattok'o. (Every last traitorous soul shall fall.) Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an! (Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all!) Lyrics by Jesse Harlin.

Thank you @orangez3st for the wonderful deviders!

[superm4ks]

Max wud have been out anyway, believe it or not idc for that, delta between crash and red flag of the other incidents combined still less than how long it took to red flag a car missing a tire, a wing stranded barely moving wid debris all over the place in a mess of a session where it wud have been likely to have another car crash in the same place. Just interesting to me how those who constantly harp about 'driver safety' suddenly fine wid RC taking 50 secs to red flag that because 'his engine was still on' and 'it wud not have changed anything' in terms of pecking order. Thought we were concerned wid drivers here. Yesterday u got a VSC deployed after two laps wid a car in a corner exit today its this like obvi race control is always throwing darts at the rules and a wet session will always have questionable calls, by nature motorsport and especially F1 will never be judged 'fairly' and there is an element of spectacle that will always be put above anyones well being but this grand prix RC been particularly jarring and reactions to it almost like funny because yk they wud be different if it had affected results some other way

[starlightsearches]

star!! hello!! ☺️

I have been once again thinking about the arranged marriage au (frankly, I'm often thinking of the arranged marriage au lmao) and I also saw your post from yesterday (👀👀) so I thought I'd send in a question that I've been meaning to ask you for a while if that's okay!

my question is: how do you think the other officers (esp. like the older imperials) reacted to Hux marrying RC? were they like "wow finally he's doing something respectable?" or were they more like "yeah of course Hux would have to buy a wife?" or do they just not care at all? or did they have another reaction that I didn't think of?

and this is totally just if you have thoughts or if you want to answer - no pressure at all ever! 🥰🥰

and also, very unrelated to the question but still related to the arranged marriage au, I was listening to "uptown girl" by billy joel today (as one does lol) and I was thinking it's very Hux and his wife coded!! ☺️💕

okay that's all my random thoughts for today! ☺️ sending you love and wishing you strength to push through the last little bit until spring break!! 🥰🥰

Charlotte, my love!! I've missed seeing you on my dash 💖 I'm gonna ramble so I'll put my answers under the cut :0)

This is such a good question! I imagine that Hux probably had to share his plans in a meeting at some point, and the idea makes me laugh.

It would be some kind of strategy session or an update on progress made with certain allies—a semi-regular meeting that everybody dreads—and it's literally like Hux and a bunch of old-ass ex-imperials who make up the political arm of the Order, making vague threats and letting out barely concealed insults as they tick off agenda items and wait for the meeting to be over so they can all bitch in private.

Hux added something vague to the end of the agenda about a potential alliance and proceeds to sweat bullets throughout the whole meeting, certain that they can all smell the weakness on him, that they know. Lots of these men knew (and approved of) Brendol, and that's not something he can forget easily.

Hux manages to remain professional when he states his intentions to marry, claims it's all for the benefit of the Order (no other reason 👀), and he actually kind of sells it?

The ex-imperials are surprised, certainly, but also almost impressed. They're so used to butting heads with Hux, practically ripping their hair out because he's so stubborn and why can't he just see things their way?? Most of the men in that room were married for similar reasons, and they're honestly shocked he would do the smart thing for once.

It earns him a bit of grudging respect for a little while, but then they see him actually interact with RC after the marriage and they're like, "oops, our mistake. this guy is a total fuck-up 👍🏻."

In terms of the rest of the officers, there's so much comedic potential in Hux not telling anybody that he's gonna get married. I imagine that he put something benign in Mitaka's schedule on the day of the wedding about like "diplomatic visit" and when they get there Mitaka's like, "sir, this is a wedding," and Hux is like, "duh, I'm getting married."

I think opinions on the ship range from "what the fuck?" to "maybe he'll be less of an asshole if he's getting laid regularly." RC's initial experiences on the ship are . . . less-than-friendly.

Uptown Girl is a great Hux and wife song! It really is very strange for him to be around someone so soft and loving 🥰

Thanks for chatting with me, as always, my love!! I promise I will have new Hux and wife content for you to enjoy eventually!

[ladylamrian]

Female Main Character: Victoria Walker

Pairing: F!MC×Angel!Dino

Summary: Dino helps Victoria with her studies.

Word Count: 2.5K words

Rating: Teen

-> My complete Heaven's Secret Masterlist <-

Romance Club Taglist: @bri1234 ; @zoeywades-husband ; @infactnoimmasitinthemiddle ; @webanglikethat @dutifullynuttywitch ; @rc-catalog

Comments via Reblog wholeheartedly welcome

Author's note: My very first Heaven's Secret fic. Have mercy.

Victoria Walker, an enchanting and slender woman with long, wavy light-brown hair and striking ocean-blue eyes, found herself as an Unclaimed at the Angels & Demons Academy in Heaven. This status meant she was neither an angel nor a demon, and soon she would have to make a choice about where she belonged. As an ordinary human who had tragically died at a young age, she now navigated a realm filled with angelborns and demonborns. Fortunately, she had a few immortal friends who stood by her side, including her beloved and the academy's most admired angel, Dino. He embodied honesty and purity, having a depth of care, support, and gentleness that was rare. It was these qualities that made her fall deeply in love with him.

"Hey, Dino", she greeted him with a smile after leaving Art & Literature Class while carrying a bunch of old, ancient tomes.

When the Angel spotted her, he immediately rushed for help, taking the heavy tomes from her and carrying them instead, as both walked down the hallway.

"Good morning, Victoria. How was your Class? And what's with all these old tomes?", he asked with interest and smiled.

"Oh, thanks for carrying. They're sure heavy.", she sighed and looked upset.

Dino noticed her worry, brushing a strand of hair out of her face behind her ear while balancing her books.

"Is anything wrong?"

"Just worried about a test. I still have to study a lot and I'm not sure if I will remember everything I learned. I hate that subject. There's so much to remember."

"Don't worry, you can do this. I believe in you," the angelic man with tousled dark-blond hair said, his voice warm and reassuring. His calm demeanor contrasted with the tension radiating from Victoria, whose brow was furrowed in anxiety. Despite his soothing words, she felt a heavy weight of stress pressing down on her.

"Dino, that test is next week and I can't remember a detail. I'm not..."

"Do you want me to help you?"

"Huh?"

Dino smiled at her innocent and shocked reaction. The man brushed his hand against her to calm her down a little because he was aware that she worried about her exam and was ready to help her beloved.

"I'll help you study. You'll see that the test will be very easy."

"You really would do that?"

"Of course, I love to help."

"But don't you have other things to do?"

"Listen, I have time to help and I'd love to support you. I won't let you worry about the test and will make sure you'll pass."

Victoria was incredibly happy to have his support. She longed to hug him, embrace him, and kiss him, but as an Unclaimed and he as an Angel, their bond was forbidden. She struggled to control her feelings and resist her desires. Leading the dark blond-haired boy into the Academy's library, she aimed to start their study session. She chose a table in the History & Politics area, away from prying eyes. Once they were seated with books spread out on the table, she focused intently on him.

"Thanks for helping me, Dino. The test is about the hierachy of angels and demons."

"Ahh, an easy topic for me. Now, the hierarchy of angels and demons is a system that organizes these supernatural beings according to their rank, status, powers, and role in society and in the supernatural world. I would suggest that we start with the hierarchy of angels because it is the largest part to memorize. Then we'll study the hierarchy of the demons.", the angel suggested and grabbed an old tome, already turning to the correct page.

The Unclaimed listened closely to his deep voice as he started explaining the structure of the hierarchy.

"The hierarchy of Angels is made up of nine different orders of angels. From the highest rank to the lowest rank, we have: Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Powers, Virtues, Principalities, Archangels, and Angels."

"Oh sheepa, I think I can't do this anymore. It's too much for me. I won't remember everything.", she started to panic already. Dino grabbed her hand and affectionately stroked her soft skin to calm her down, which made her pleasantly shiver with goosebumps.

"Victoria, calm down. It's normal, don't worry. We'll take it step by step, you're not going to memorize it all. I won't let you down."

"I know, Dino."

He smiled at her and continued the lesson.

"Now we'll go one by one. Let's start with the first rank, the Seraphim. Seraphim are the highest order of angels and the closest to Sheepa, our god. Seraphim have three pairs of wings, they guard the throne of God, and they are known for their pure light and love."

"Hmm, okay. They are the highest."

He nodded and continued.

"Next, we have the Cherubim. They are the second order of angels and are known for their wisdom and intelligence."

He gave her a few minutes to memorize, to scribble it down, and then continued.

"The Thrones are the third-ranking angels and known for their power and authority. They are often described as mighty and fearsome beings who carry the throne of God and act as his assistants in judgment and justice. Followed by the Dominions, the fourth order of angels, known for their responsibility and discipline. They are often portrayed as wearing robes and holding rods, representing their role in exercising dominion and authority over the creation."

"Dino, I will never remember all this."

The angel smiled softly.

"Don't worry, my Victoria. We'll practice as often as you need until the test day. It's normal, you won't memorize everything right away, especially all the orders of the hierarchy. But I'll help you. To start, I'll make sure you understand it well and memorize it. If you have any questions now or in a few days, we'll find the answer together."

"Thanks, my angel.", she whispered and dared to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, which surprised him. He smiled and kissed her back, enjoying the moment.

"You're welcome, my dear. We're going to make sure you're good for this test."

The angel watched her with passion in his eyes, wanting her intensely. His blue eyes shone more brightly when they looked at each other. He began to gently caress her face and ran his fingers through her soft brown hair as he gazed deeper into her blue eyes with love as if he could lose himself in them.

"You're so beautiful..."

"So are you, Dino. I love you. I don't care about the Law of Segregation because I want you. I need you."

Dino smiled and moved closer to her, longing to be close to her, the contact was inevitable.

"We shouldn't. An Unclaimed with an angel, that's forbidden... But I can't resist you either... And I don't think I'll be able to for very long.", he whispered.

"I wouldn't mind to skip studying."

The angel mischievously smiled, leaning closer to her.

"Are you sure? You don't want to take advantage of our free time to study for your test?", he reminded her.

"Dino, why are you always the responsible and reasonable angel, making me choose to do the right thing?", Victoria complained, crossing her arms.

"Because I don't want you to forget to do the right thing. But... I must admit that it is a bit hard for me to be reasonable and responsible when I'm next to you.", he chuckled caressing her rosy cheek.

"Oh, really?", she grinned.

The angel watched her with a slight mischievous grin. A spark of desire in his eyes couldn't help but become noticeable.

"Don't smile at me like that, Victoria. It tempts me to do unspeakable things."

"Like what?"

The man moved even closer to her, until there was almost no distance between them. His blue eyes had an intensity of desire, and his voice got slightly lower and more seductive.

"Like... touch you... In places no one else has ever touched... Or hold you so close that I could feel your body press against mine. Or touch you in a way that would leave no doubt of how badly I want you."

Dino's strong hands slid to her waist, gripping her gently, possessively.

"Oh my love, what are you doing?"

He gazed at her. His light-blue eyes were now slightly darkened by desire and a barely contained passion. His hand on her waist gripped her a little more possessively, as if making their bodies touch.

"I'm just simply being a good teacher, helping my student.", he joked.

His voice had lowered to almost a murmur, almost like a whisper. His fingers gently and slowly moved up and down her sides. Slowly pressed his muscular body against hers as his hands gripped her waist tightly pulling her body against his while his other hand moved to her hair, running his fingers through her soft curls.

"...and right now, I feel it would be good to provide you with extra lessons."

"Make sure nobody catches us, Dino."

His eyes gleamed with amusement and desire as his body pressed against hers, and his hand moved to the small of her back.

"Don't worry, love. I don't intend for anyone to see us."

They stood up. Dino gently but firmly pushed her backwards until her back was pressed against the wall of a shadowy corner where they won't be seen, with his body against hers

His body pressed against hers and his hand was now placed on the back of her waist to keep her in place. They kissed. His soft lips pressed against hers with a growing urgency and intensity. His tongue seeking hers.

"Dino.... Mmmhh...", she quietly moaned.

The kiss became more heated, more urgent. Dino's tongue entwined with hers, deepening the kiss while his free hand moved up to cup her face as his fingers gently caressed her skin. His touch and his kiss became more possessive.

But that moment didn't last forever, as they suddenly heard voices which caused the angel to instantly pull back, breaking the kiss.

"Someone is coming.", he warned her.

As the couple broke apart quickly, moving away from the wall and each other, just in time before someone rounded the corner, almost walked into them. Gladly they weren't noticed because neither one of them could hide their flushed cheeks and slightly messed appearance from the embrace before.

Dino's hair was also messy and his breathing was slightly heavy from the kiss and the interrupted moment. His eyes darted around, making sure they weren't spotted. And thankfully they weren't.

"That was close..."

"Yeah. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me, Dino."

"It was also my fault, I couldn't resist anymore. It was a risky thing to do.", he confessed but couldn't help but glance at her flushed cheeks, messy hair, and her rosy lips slightly swollen from the kiss. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself.

"I... We... we should probably go back to studying.", he suggested.

Taking her hand and guided her back to where they were studying, trying to push away all thoughts of them from just a few moments ago. But he couldn't resist glancing at her flushed face and remembering the feel of her body under his hands with her lips against his.

"Sorry Dino, I didn't mean to..."

"Don't apologize. It was as much my fault as yours. Don't blame yourself, my little angel. We're just lucky that we weren't caught."

Squeezing her hand gently, they tried to focus on studying, but his mind went back again to the moment when they were pressed against the wall. Her body against his.

"So where were we? Ah yes, what comes after the Thrones?"

The angel cleared his throat, trying to focus back on the studies. He pointed to the page and spoke with a slightly trembling voice.

"After the Thrones come the Dominions."

Dino explained the next rank in the hierarchy and the powers of the Dominions, but he struggled to concentrate. His gaze kept darting toward her, still feeling the warmth of her body against his. Suddenly, he was drawn to her long legs when her high heel accidentally brushed against him. He couldn’t help but glance at her bare leg for a moment before looking up and attempting to focus on the studies in front of him. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the physical proximity between them.

"Dino?"

"Yes?"

"Everything okay?"

He composed himself, nodding.

"What? Uh yeah, everything is fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I..."

"Victoria!!!"

They heard someone call her name and turned around to discover who it was.

“Mimi!”, she cheered, her voice ringing with excitement as she spotted her best friend and roommate across the room. Mimi was a striking figure, a beautiful demoness with a fair skin that shimmered under the lights. Dressed in form-fitting black leather that hugged her curves, she reflected an aura of confidence and allure. Her long, sleek bangs framed her face, casting shadows over her mischievous, eyes that sparkled with a hint of mischief. The moment felt electric, and her heart swelled with joy at the sight of her beloved friend.

"Hey, Victoria!! Dino.", she greeted as she approached them.

"Mimi, what are you doing in a library? It's not even Hell's library."

Mimi laughed at her friend's question.

"I was forced to come by. Can you believe I failed a test in 'Magic Control'?"

"You failed in Magic Control?", he asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Yup, 'magic control'... But I mean, who takes that class seriously, right?", she snorted which also made Victoria giggle.

Dino shook his head, disapproving.

"Mimi, you should focus and pay more attention to your studies."

Mimi shrugged, with a nonchalant attitude and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You guys are just boring study bugs."

The couple watched the demoness fly off. Dino shook his head a bit at her carefree attitude.

"Mimi really is something else..."

They turned back to the study material in front of them. He scanned the yellow page where they left off and cleared his throat, trying to refocus.

"Where were we? Ah yes, the Dominions. So, after the Dominions come the Virtues."

"How are they?"

Dino explained to his girl the Virtues and their powers, focusing on the material in front of him and his studies. When he glanced at her, he was happy to see her listening intently and taking notes.  Then they analyzed the remaining ranks in the hierarchy, the Powers, Principalities, Archangels, and Angels. He explained each rank, its powers, and the duties they perform within the celestial hierarchy. They made progress.

"Okay, all noted. Now I hope to remember everything. Thanks, Dino."

The angel smiled at her, glad to see that she's finally taking her studies seriously.

"No problem. Just keep focused and study hard, and I'm sure you'll do great on your test."

After countless days of diligent study and revision, Victoria Walker found herself fully immersed in her education at the Academy, a level of focus she had never displayed before. Her friends watched in astonishment as the spirited troublemaker they knew transformed into a dedicated student, a sight that was both surprising and inspiring. The motivating force behind her newfound determination was her desire to make Dino proud. And of course, to see him more often that way and perhaps get a little distracted with him, doing things they wouldn't allow to to in public. He had selflessly devoted a great deal of his time and effort to support her academic journey. With each page she turned and each concept she mastered, Victoria felt a growing sense of purpose and commitment, striving to honor his trust in her potential.

When the day finally came, she gave the test. And weeks later, she received her results and proudly showed them to the angel who never stopped believing in her. Dino couldn't help but smirk.

"Barely passed, huh?"

"Hey, at least I passed. Don't look at the grade. I passed. I passed your father's class which was a big deal for me."

"But, well... Barely, but yeah, you passed. I guess that's all that matters... for now."

"Thank you!! Thank you for your help.", she cheered and thanked him with a quick kiss.

The blonde-haired angel smiled and kissed her back, unable to resist her. Both secretly, away from prying eyes.

[deceased-madam]

My favourite, Spitfire!! Positing this now before I start suffering tomorrow. I don't know how to make references, but I tried 😭

Under the cut is my long yap session about his details.

RC-5820/Spitfire details:

Background

His original squad was killed by friendly fire, as the squad's explosives expert — Haywire, set a bomb off too early, causing two members to die and Spitfire to lose his right arm. The death of those two squadmates made Haywire and Spitfire join a different squad that also lacked in numbers, but that squad died in Geonosis, leaving Haywire and Spitfire to end up in their current squad — Adder Squad.

Spitfire got his blaster scars from the times he got shot during trianing (poor guy took the shots for his comrades). He got his laceration scars from fights with Haywire, with their trauma Haywire has turned unfeeling, whereas Spitfire has turned to feel too much, thus causing them to clash a lot despite knowing each other more and spending more time together than anyone else.

Personality

Negative but will try to be optimistic for other people, angsty, snarky, resourceful, gentle heart with lethal thorns.

As his name suggests, Spitfire has a fiery and confrontational personality, which only became more unapproachable as he aged and experienced more of the sorrowful fate of clones. He has little patience for bullshit and sugarcoating, sees reality as cruel and apathetic, but will say what people want to hear if they are close to death or really need comfort.

He stands up for his comrades no matter the cost, will question risky orders, put their needs before his own; Spitfire even has gone as far as filing reports against his General in hopes of earning some leniency.

He resents the galaxy for putting him and his comrades into an unfair world where justice is biased and rights aren't equal simply because clones are viewed as lesser. The prejudice towards clones has made him despise non-clones.

Being a medic in a battalion under the control of a ruthless General is no easy task, comrades die left and right no matter how skillful Spitfire's capabilities are, leaving him with a slight inferiority complex.

Secretly can't handle his comrades dying even though he knows it will happen.

As a commando, compadre with squadmates is essential, yet Spitfire can't have any of that, because those he were closest to were torn away from him, and his snarky personality makes it difficult to make new connections, not to mention his fear of losing those important to him. He has some attachment issues.

Armour

As a medic, Spitfire needs his hands free to heal allies, and does less fighting than his comrades, so he uses a DC-17 repeater hand blaster, thus he has a holster for it on his right thigh. He also has extra pouches to hold medical supplies. (I only drew one, but incorporate hammer space.)

I chose the colours — red, white, grey, and black because they are the colours of the battalion he's in, the 403rd, aka Sacred Dragons — General Krell's Battalion; with those colours I also incorporated Mandalorian colour meanings into his design because because clone commandos are closely tied to Mandalorian culture.

According to Mandalorian culture colours — scarlet stands for defiance, maroon stands for power, grey stands for mourning, black stands for power, erin stands for a yearn for peace, gold stands for revenge, white stands for change. I have used these colours in his design.

From the back he is scarlet to hide his front which is grey, because unless you know him -know that he's putting up barriers due to the fact he's mourning and afraid of getting attached just to lose the person- you'll think he's simply being difficult. He has four dots on his left chest, they are his sergeant's dots, but they -plus the stripe in the middle- have the colour of erin that stands for his desire for peace. He has some gold and black because he wants revenge and justice for all his fallen comrades and the mistreatment towards clones. Has maroon because as a medical sergeant he has power, he also wants power to help his comrades. His left shoulder bell is default white because he loses it a lot due to the fact he has to remove the medic symbol if he wishes to be an active part of combat -which he often has to do- in consequence of Krell's tactics being cruel.

Tattoos

His tattoos also incorporate the Mandalorian colour meanings as mentioned above.

The rose means — love, passion, memory, grief, and duality.

The skull means — death, mortality, rebellion, and by a stretch it can also mean understanding of anatomy.

The initials on his left wrist are "S" and "B" in Mando'a, they are the initials of the first two squadmates he lost; further tying grief into his design.

All these are felt and are part of Spitfire's character.

There are four roses to represent the four squadmates he lost, two skulls to represent the two squads he lost.

Additional

I was going to add tally marks to his armour that represent all the lost lives, but that means his entire armour would be covered in tally marks and I would die each time I draw his armour.

He was supposed to have wing tattoos on his waist or back to symbolise his yearn for freedom, I wanted to use skeletal wings as a nod towards his advanced anatomical knowledge, and to tie it with the skulls, but the wings just didn't look right so I removed them.

Lowkey a germaphobe, wants everything to be as clean as possible. He doesn't care if the room is a mess, as long as it's clean.

Spitfire was going to get a double mohawk to honour his lost comrades, but when he was shaving his head he got forcefully stopped by Haywire who thought it looked unseemly, so Spitfire's head is only half shaved.

His armour has a backpack to go with it, but I forgot to draw it 🫢

Doesn't like being touched, but is also touch starved.

Was best pals with Initial S, leaving a void in Spitfire's heart ever since Initial S died.

Has dark circles under his eyes, paler skin tone, and a lower fat percentage because he's overworked, stressed, barely sleeps, and has harmful addictions.

He is smarter than the average clone, but because of his bad lifestyle, it doesn't appear that way.

He has a nicotine and morphine addiction. His nicotine addiction started young when he was learning his medic stuff, there's a lot of information and studying, nicotine became his stress relief. Initial S managed to get ahold of death sticks for Spitfire. His morphine addiction started after he joined Adder Squad, he had no friends anymore, experienced the horrors of war, and needed something stronger than nicotine to dull the anguish.

Although it's stated he lost his arm in an explosion, the amputation was actually self-inflicted. His arm got stuck under the debris of an explosion so he had to cut it off.