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bratzforchris · 3 months

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Vampire-J.G. ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

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Summary: A night exploring a haunted mansion with your best friend turns into you meeting your paranormal lover

Pairing: Vampire!Johnnie x human (feminine)!reader

Warnings: Horror/scary themes, blood, mentions of werewolf!Jake x Tara

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: HIIII :) ya girl has been on a writing kick lately and this idea struck me late last night! Let me know if you'd like a part 2 or if you want me to expand more on werewolf!Jake<3

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“Do you wanna do something fun?” Tara asked you, looking up from her phone.

You two were simply lying in your dorm on a Friday night, scrolling through your separate social media. In a rare occurrence, there were no parties going on in your college town, so you two had decided to have a quiet night in. That is, until your best friend looked at you with a gleam in her eye and asked her question.

“Like what?” You rolled onto your side, propping yourself on your elbow.

“Well…” she started, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “What if we went to Harbordale Manor?”

Harbordale Manor was notorious in the town. It was an old, Gothic mansion that was situated rather deep in the woods that skirted the town’s edge. Legend had it that the family that had lived there in the early 1900s had died in a rather gruesome murder and that some of their souls still haunted the house today. You didn’t quite believe that part, mostly because vampires were not real and secondly because no one had been brave enough to actually venture all the way inside the house in the college’s history.

“You’re kidding, Tar,” You snorted. “What are we gonna do? Go out there and make it to the gates just to say we went? Like literally everyone else?”

Your best friend shook her head, thick, black locks of hair falling down her shoulders. “No. I want to see if the vampire thing is real. I haven’t gotten laid in ages. I need the Edward fantasy to come to life.”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend antics, but pulled yourself out of bed, throwing on a flannel and your Converse. “Well, are you coming or not?”

Tara scrambled down from her bed, pulling on her shoes and grabbing her backpack and a flashlight. Luckily, the residence hall was nearly empty. It seemed like most of the inhabitants and even the RA had decided to have an early, quiet night, which worked in your favor. People would definitely want to join the two of you for the shock factor if they knew where you were going.

The walk to the edge of the woods was quick and easy. The few students you two had passed on the street paid you no mind, too caught up in their own lives. The forest loomed in front of you, dark and twisted with the sound of animals and other creatures rustling underfoot.

“This is it,” Tara hummed, flicking on the flashlight. “No turning back now.”

“If we get killed or die, it’s your fault.” You joked, nudging her shoulder.

You had never been in the woods at night, and because of that, your stomach rumbled with unease. You knew everything you had heard were urban legends, myths, and stories, but that didn’t stop your heart from pounding every time a twig snapped. You and Tara had walked about 800 feet before her flashlight glinted across rusted metal. Shining it more thoroughly, you saw the wrought iron gates that stood before the stone mansion, held up by stone columns. ‘HDM’ was somehow strategically twisted into the bars, letting you know that whoever had once lived here was both regal and wealthy. Whatever path had once led to the house was long gone, and the only trace that people had been out here any time recently were the scattered beer cans.

“How the fuck are we-” Tara didn’t have time to finish her sentence before you started climbing the gates. “That’s one way to do it, I guess.”

“Don’t be a pussy!” You giggled, landing with a thud! on the other side of the gates.

Tara rolled her eyes, following your path and quickly landing beside you. “Don’t forget this was my idea. I need that vampire boy.”

“Vampires are skinny, Tara,” You laughed. “Remember when you told that guy you wouldn’t go out with him because he only went to the gym three times a week?”

“Yes, well.” she huffed but blushed.

You two walked closer to the manor, beaming the flashlight over the pure wealth. The mansion was a good three stories high, made completely of smooth, gray stones. The roof was of a black metal that sloped into sharp points that met gargoyles above the high-arched front door. Everything about the house screamed classic, Victorian-era Gothic. The huge, black front door had an enormous silver knocker that looked eerily similar to a human skull. The door handle was the same silver as the knocker and was in the shape of a bloodied dagger.

“Damn,” Tara said. “The owner’s must’ve been hardcore Goth.”

You tried the door handle, only for it to swing right open. The years of decay on the house must’ve loosened the locks. You both stepped inside, examining the home. Despite falling into disrepair, the house was beautiful and quite literally clean. It had rich, black and white wallpaper with scalloped designs and a plush, blood-red carpet. The entryway swung into a huge foyer and ballroom, with a spiral staircase and enormous, crystal chandelier.

“This is beautiful.” You murmured, twirling around the room in awe.

Tara grabbed a silver candelabra off a circular table that was shoved into the corner, examining its white, wax sticks. “Think they’ll light?” she asked, pulling matches out of her backpack.

“Worth a shot.” You nodded, going around the room and touching various things like paintings and the old books.

Surprisingly, Tara’s candles lit, which cast the room in a fiery, orange glow. The ballroom was just as pretty as the entryway, with enough room for dancing, as well as some chairs and tables for eating and drinking. Everything was decorated with fine china, silver, and crystal that all stayed with the Gothic look. What truly caught your eye, though, was the fireplace area. The large maroon and black chairs had been sculpted expertly and they sat around a black, wooden coffee table and an enormous silver fireplace. The piece that tied it all together, though, was the portrait that hung above the fireplace.

It was of a young man with long, black hair and piercing blue eyes. He had on a gorgeous black suit that appeared to be from the Victorian era as well. His skin was milky and smooth in the painting and he had a realistic somber look spread across his plump lips and strong nose. Although you had to stand on your tiptoes to read it, the tarnished plaque read ‘Johnnie Guilbert 1901’. The painting had been made shortly before the murder had happened here, which made you wonder if the man was the house’s owner.

“He’s hot.” Tara nodded, coming to stand beside you.

“And like, one hundred and forty years old and, y’know, dead.” You snorted.

You two moved on, getting ready to go up the staircase when a sharp pain zinged up your leg. You looked down to see that a shattered piece of china had fallen to the ground and cut your leg, the blood starting to trickle down your shin.

It all happened so quickly. One moment you were looking at your cut, and the next, Tara had been thrown to the side and you were wrapped in a pair of cold arms. And naturally, you struggled as your best friend looked on in horror.

“Let me go!” You wailed, wriggling in your captor’s grasp.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the masculine voice was icy, yet weirdly comforting in your ear. “Just relax.”

The man’s hands were practically subzero on your arms. Whoever he was, he had to have superhuman strength. Finally, in what you thought was a moment of weakness, but really his doing, the man dropped you and you tried to scramble away. Unfortunately, he grabbed you again by the leg.

“I’m going to help you.” he hummed, waving hand in front of your face and staring at you with blood-red eyes.

You felt like you had been put in a trance, for you relaxed into his cold touch. It didn’t faze you that whoever this was had literal red eyes or the fact that he bent down and licked your cut with long, white fangs bared, leaving your leg looking like you had never been cut at all. Once he had finished, you seemed to fall out of your haze and stared at the man.

“Who are you?”

“I’ve been a lot of things,” he whispered, cupping your face. “But I know who you are.”

The longer you stared at the man, the more familiar he became. Long, black hair, icy blue eyes, black suit. The only difference between this man and the painting was that he appeared to have modernized himself with tattoos and piercings.

“You’re the man in the painting,” You whispered. “How are you…”

“Alive? Oh baby bat, you humans can be so clueless sometimes,” Johnnie shook his head with fondness. “Was the blood licking and fangs not enough?”

“You’re not a vampire. Vampires aren’t real.”

Johnni grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest where his button up shirt had been undone. His skin was cold and pale, and you felt nothing other than his soft breathing. There was no heartbeat, and he could tell you noticed this.

“Believe me now?” he asked softly.

“How?” You glanced to the right to see Tara being helped by what looked like another man, but you were too focused on the supernatural creature in front of you.

“The legends of this house are true,” Johnnie looked rather sad for a moment, but his voice was unwavering. “My family was murdered, but I was the only one who was changed.”

Even though you were still slightly shaken up from the interaction, you felt at peace with Johnnie. He wasn’t scary like myths about vampires had told you, and he didn’t seem to want to consume your blood. You almost felt bad for him. Had he been alone in the house his family had been murdered in for over a hundred years?

“I was the first born son,” the vampire gestured to the immense painting of himself. “My family was very well-loved in town. We held the biggest balls and my father was the mayor, but he made…a very bad deal. To be fair, he didn’t know the man had been a vampire. And so, the man came for revenge. He sucked my family dry, wanting me to join him in his business, which is why I was the only one changed. My mother opened the curtains before she died and…he died. But now, I’m the only one who still walks the earth.”

You were on the verge of tears as Johnnie finished his story. You threw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. His icy body relaxed into your touch, holding him close to you. There was almost a gravitational pull from your body to his, something that wasn’t quite human.

“Do you…feed on humans?” You asked him softly, wondering why he hadn’t sunk his fangs into you and Tara yet.

“I try not to,” he smiled kindly. “I only feed on animals. Unless of course, it’s someone who deserves it.” the man smiled, his fangs glinting in the pale moonlight.

“Next question. Did you like, put a spell on me?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because,” You started. “I’m weirdly comfortable around a vampire.”

Johnnie smiled softly again. “Once a mortal is changed into a vampire, they’re assigned a soulmate. That person can be a mortal or a vampire. I am unable to love until I’ve met my person, baby bat.” he paused to see if you would get the gist.

“So, I’m your person?” You asked him.

He nodded softly, kissing your forehead with gentle, cold lips. “Yes, little blood flower. You’re my person.”

You smiled, relaxing into his hold. Never in a million years would you have thought you would be hanging out with a vampire in an abandoned mansion on a Friday night, but Johnnie’s captivating pull kept you here, eager to relish in his love. Before you knew it, though, Tara had appeared next to you with another man. He was tall, much taller than Johnnie with long, brown hair and green eyes. He also had a variety of tattoos and piercings, but he wasn’t dressed nearly as proper as Johnnie was. Whereas the vampire had on a black and blood red suit, this other man was in more “punk” clothing and looked completely normal.

“I’m not tripping, right?” Tara asked you. “They’re really a vampire and a werewolf?”

“Well, I know about a vampire, but a werewolf?” You looked to Johnnie for confirmation.

“That’s Jake. He keeps me company. It gets a little lonely around here, so I need an immortal best friend.” he smiled.

You smiled, realizing that although these men were technically supernatural beings, they were nowhere near the legends people had made about them. They weren't aggressive or violent and aside from their physical attributes, they seemed fully human. They could think and feel and love. And as you and Tara spent the rest of the night getting to know your vampire and werewolf, you could tell that they would be in your life for more than just one night.

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flowerandblood · 5 months

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The Gate of Salvation [2/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: fingering, smut, sexual tension, angst, religious guilt, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The Song of Songs (Oneshot) Death and Ressurection (Oneshot)

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After her meeting with the Pope, she had been writhing around all night, terrified and humiliated, unable to sleep. She couldn't forgive herself for her stupidity, for not seeing in time that it was obvious her uncle was trying to slip her over to the head of the Catholic Church like a snack he might be tempted to focus on.

The worst part was that he had hired her and she didn't know how she could take it back, defy the Pope himself, communicate that she was rejecting his proposal.

She got up before dawn, recognising that she would not get any rest anyway, and decided to take a warm shower. She thought while standing under the stream of hot water that she would try to distance herself, be professional and not give satisfaction to either her uncle or the Pope himself.

She hoped that when he finally decided to give any sort of interview the commotion around him would quiet down and she could quickly offer her resignation.

She sighed heavily, running her hand over her wet face, wondering how she was supposed to reconcile this madness with her classes at the University.

A car with the same driver as the day before arrived outside her townhouse again and took her straight to the Vatican; driving through its streets, she noticed that many people had pitched tents in and around St Peter's Square, waiting for any new information about their Pope.

She sighed quietly, resignedly thinking about how unnecessary his stubbornness actually was.

This time it was not her uncle waiting for her in the square, but a middle-aged priest who could have been her father, dressed in a plain black cassock. He smiled at her in a way that seemed genuine to her and she reciprocated the gesture when he indicated with a movement of his hand that she should move to follow him.

"The Pope is just having breakfast in the garden and he will receive you there." He said as they walked along the marble corridors filled with works of art; she looked at him surprised and sighed quietly, glancing out of the window, finding that it was indeed pleasant warm weather, the sky was cloudless.

They walked out one of the back exits to the cloisters into a small garden consisting of a maze formed of walls of shrubbery, which, however, easily led them to its centre, on which stood a large arbour styled in antique manner, with a dome and Corinthian-style columns.

She grinned with some kind of disbelief when she spotted his figure seated at an ornate small white table, his cassock also white, he held in his hands a newspaper he had just been looking through.

She thought with amusement that he was reading about himself.

Only when they got closer did she notice that other gazettes from different countries lay folded on the table top; the front pages of each asking who the new pope was, why he wasn't showing himself, why he was silent.

"Your Holiness." Said the priest standing next to her and nodded; the young pope, however, did not even bestow a single glance on them.

She pressed her lips together as she saw his thumb go to his mouth, he licked it and then used it to flip the page of the newspaper.

The priest who had brought her left them alone, as if he had already become accustomed to the lack of reaction and any culture on his part. She stared at him in silence for a moment, standing in front of him in the same dress as the day before, not having time to buy anything else.

"Holy Father." She said softly, wanting to get it over with, standing a few steps beside him.

He did not look at her, instead lifting his hand and extending it towards her, a signet ring of pure gold on his heart finger.

She looked at him for a moment in disbelief, then swallowed hard and walked towards him, grasping his warm hand in hers.

She leaned in, placing a quick, brief kiss on his ring and let him go immediately; he took his hand without even giving her a glance and went back to reading the newspaper.

She pressed her lips together feeling his intense, pleasant-smelling male perfume again.

"What do you think of what they write about me?" He asked, carelessly tossing the newspaper he had just read onto a pile of others, the discouragement on his face bordering on disgust, as if what he had read made him sick. "They are already reaching my family. Day and night they chat outside my mother's house."

She felt a tightness in her throat at his words and some kind of sympathy, because although he must have known what his decision entailed and what the consequences would be, some journalists crossed all possible boundaries, recognising no sanctity.

She shifted from foot to foot, looking at the French croissants that lay on one of the porcelain plates and a jar of strawberry jam, and reminded herself that she hadn't eaten breakfast. She grunted quietly, looking away, staring at the field flowers that grew around them – she spotted a gardener in the distance who was cutting the shrubs with his big steel shears.

"They won't stop until you give them something, Holy Father." She replied truthfully, hearing him snort under his breath.

"They will always want more." He replied dryly and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye – he was staring at her sitting with his legs crossed.

She shuddered and looked at him in disbelief as he pushed the other chair in front of her with his foot clad in white elegant shoes, moving it away.

"Sit down, child. You are pale. Did you eat breakfast today?" He asked disapprovingly, like a parent expressing their discontent. She shook her head and he sighed heavily, indicating with his hand gesture to the seat next to him.

She thought that this certainly had nothing to do with behaving according to protocol, but decided that it probably didn't matter much to him. She sat down next to him, smelling the intense scent of his perfume again, adjusting her dress, remembering not to sit with her legs crossed.

"Eat." He said dispassionately; she wasn't going to argue, figuring that since she was being forced to be at his every beck and call now, she could get something in return.

Therefore, she reached for the croissant and jam, which immediately drew the attention of her stomach – she casted him a wordless surprised glance as she heard the sound of the lighter being lit and the hiss of the cigarette he held in his mouth.

He took a deep drag and spread out comfortably in his chair, looking at her thoughtfully, letting the smoke out through his nose. He smirked, as if something in her gaze amused him.

"My chancellery contacted your University. They were happy to hear that you will be doing a sort of…internship here. You don't have to worry about your exams or classes." He hummed as if he was talking about something trivial and uninteresting, an irrelevant piece of information he had to convey to her, and took another drag, the tip of his cigarette igniting red.

"− what − but −" She started, but decided it made no sense; whoever he was, this man had clearly already planned everything for himself and had no intention of changing anything, much less asking her opinion.

"I thought you'd be pleased. Your uncle arranges for you accommodation and studies, the Pope makes sure you pass your exams without your personal involvement. Isn't that beautiful?" He asked with a sneer, and she felt a tightening in her throat, a cold sweat on her back; she stared wide-eyed at the half-cut croissant on which she had just spread jam, but lost the urge to eat.

He knew everything about her and thought she and her uncle were the same.

She pressed her lips together and leaned back against the backrest, placing her hands on the armrests even though she shouldn't be doing so and crossed her legs. She saw his gaze drop involuntarily to her bare knees, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

"My uncle wants you to take me to your bed, Holy Father." She said quietly, recognising that she didn't have the strength for this, for their games, their hookups, the secrets they obviously adored, of which the entire Vatican was made.

She blinked when he chuckled, his pointing finger hitting his cigarette so that the ash from it fell to the stone floor beneath him.

"Tell me something I don't know. Eat. We have a lot of work ahead of us." He muttered, taking one last drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke out through his nose, extinguishing the remnants of it on his plate.

She stared at him with her heart pounding fast, thinking in disbelief that he really was a few steps ahead of everyone else.

He was perfectly informed, and although his words and actions seemed chaotic, there was purpose in them.

"What do you want, Holy Father?" She asked lightly, taking a piece of croissant into her mouth. He threw her an amused look and raised an eyebrow.

She had the impression that he took satisfaction in teasing her, his gaze fixed on her lips, which she involuntarily licked.

"Many things. Above all, holy peace and quiet, but I am not afforded it. Get up, let's take a walk." He said matter-of-factly and rose abruptly, putting his hands behind him, moving ahead without looking at her towards the corridors made of tall, evenly trimmed bushes.

She quickly swallowed the piece she just had in her mouth and stood up, following him, levelling her step with his, sunshine and birdsong all around them.

"We're being watched. It's harder for them to eavesdrop on me as I walk." He said coolly; she turned behind her and saw the gardener she noticed before, who was apparently just pretending to water the flowers around the arbour.

She looked at him in horror, realising that he must have been spied on all the time.

That they all wanted to know what he was going to do, surely he must have kept them in an iron grip since no picture of him had leaked to the press yet.

"What's going to make the atmosphere calm down and the journalists back off?" He asked discouraged, and she sighed quietly, looking up at the cloudless sky.

"Your private invitation."

She was surprised that her idea that he would hold a press conference where he would be invisible and only his voice could be heard appealed to him. He felt that, in fact, his faithful should hear his words and what he has to share with them, and this did not require his image to be revealed at all.

He decided to receive the TV and newspaper envoys in the Sistine Chapel, recognising that this was some kind of milestone moment that required a special place, a black veil was placed in front of his papal throne.

Although on the one hand it looked comical, on the other it added a sort of solemnity and impression of holiness, something tangible and yet inaccessible.

The cardinals and his office workers had prepared a script for him, which he tore in front of her eyes before the speech itself, handing her the shreds that remained of the pages, staring blankly at the black fabric in front of him. She took it from him, not knowing what else she could do; he demanded she be by his side in case someone asked an uncomfortable question.

Her heart was pounding like mad, she could feel the cold sweat on her back and wondered if he felt a similar anxiety.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and although his face was stony, he seemed even paler to her than usual, his large hands on which she could clearly see the outline of his veins clenched on his armrests – he sat comfortably on his throne with his legs crossed.

"Holy Father, why don't you want to show your face to your faithful? Is this some new kind of Vatican policy, a way of getting the whole world's attention?" They heard the question echoed by the first journalist on the other side of the curtain; she saw him press his lips together and swallow loudly before his cold, matter-of-fact, dispassionate voice began to spread around them.

"My face is not useful to my faithful for anything. They need my action. My causality. They need my intervention in matters of urgency, in the problems of paedophilia in the church, in the embezzlement and misuse of church assets, in the restoration of law and order, in the opening up of the church to young people who feel forgotten and unwanted. My face, my history, my personal views will distract them from all these things."

He said without stammering. She looked at him in disbelief, realising that he couldn't have prepared this answer beforehand.

He was saying straight from his heart what he was thinking and there was something touching about it.

Somehow she understood what he meant.

"What about the pilgrimages, what about the Sunday masses celebrated by the Pope?" Asked another journalist. She heard him sigh heavily, noticed that his hand trembled as he raised it to his face, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose.

"The Pope is not alone, he has his cardinals who can assist him in his missions around the world. As for the masses, I will attend them as a guest, but I will not be visible. The Pope is not unique. The Pope is chosen as first among equals. As Pope, I still remain a cardinal, one of the apostles. I am not Christ. I am not God."

She looked at him in pain, breathing unevenly through slightly parted lips, remembering what she had told him a few days earlier.

They need a guide, not another invisible God.

She couldn't believe that after what she had heard she had begun to feel sympathy for him – his answers seemed thoughtful and sensible, and she wondered if she had just seen his true nature, or if he was as perfect a manipulator as any of the cardinals.

She wondered how he had convinced them.

How he became Pope.

When it was all over he left without a word; the journalists were led away, and she prayed that it would help, that public opinion would calm down a little.

She watched all the news editions that evening with bated breath – the whole world quoted his statements and his decision, to her relief, most of the experts spoke warmly of him. The newspaper headlines also left her under no illusions.

The Pope has spoken. He doesn't want to show his face, only his actions.

The Pope who chooses the fight against paedophilia over the glamour of glory.

The Pope without a face − a new beginning.

The end of splendour − the Pope retreats to work like any of us.

The end of the church as we know it. The Pope at last again the voice of the weakest.

The next day she arrived in the Vatican with a stack of newspapers, eager to show him the result of their work, hoping it would satisfy him and allow her to return to normality.

"The Pope is exercising, but he said he would receive you." Said the priest, who was called Father Lenz, and who was apparently his private secretary, always waiting for her to lead her wherever he just happened to be.

"He's exercising?" She asked with amusement, and he just raised his eyebrows, himself clearly not knowing what he thought about it.

He opened the door for her and she stepped into a large room, with a beautiful baroque vaulted ceiling and hundreds of paintings on one side, rows of tall windows on the other, illuminating an exercise machine consisting of a small bench with a mattress on which he placed his back as he pulled on the railing at the end of which the weights hung, his legs braced on either side of the machine for balance.

He was dressed in white tracksuits.

She stared at the sight in disbelief, waiting for him to notice her; it only happened after a while when he took a break and sat down, reaching for a bottle of water standing on the old wooden floor. She lifted up a bundle of newspapers and he nodded, running his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his breathing after his exertion.

She walked over to him and handed him the magazines she held in her hand; she felt a pleasant throbbing between her thighs feeling the smell of his sweat mixed with the scent of his perfume, his lips slightly swollen and pink from the blood that pulsed faster through his body.

He flipped through the front pages of the papers one by one and sighed quietly; she thought with surprise that there was a sort of expression of relief painted on his face, as if what was happening frightened him somewhere deep inside and filled him with anxiety.

He put them down at last, looking ahead, grabbing the white towel that hung over the railing at the other end of the machine.

"I prayed to God after I was elected. I prayed that he would show me the way, and although he usually answered me in some way, that evening he was silent. It was a silence full of rejection, as if the heavens did not agree with the decision of the conclave. How was I to go out to the crowds in such a situation, to convince them that Our Father in the heavens was sending me to them?"

He asked, rising with a quiet creak from the metal bench, surprising her completely with his words; because of his clothes and the way he spoke she had cognitive dissonance and had to remind herself that he was the Pope and not just a young man close to her age.

His confession touched her in some way – she was able to imagine his despair on the evening he was elected as people chanted his name, but it was the voice of God that he wanted to hear.

He stood a few steps away from her, drinking the contents of his small water bottle to the end, and stared ahead, as if he had returned with his mind to that time, as if he needed to get it out of himself.

"That's why I asked my faithful to pray from me. And what did they do? They despaired. They despaired that they could not see my face, that they could not touch me, tear me apart, dissect my private life and my past. I have never felt so lonely." He said with a regret from which she felt a squeeze in her throat and lowered her gaze, not knowing what to say, reminding herself with shame that she had thought the same thing about him as all those people.

"Perhaps it was also the will of the heavens. In the end, when the time comes everyone will face God alone. Maybe it was his words: don't follow the crowd, don't conform, that's not why I sent you." She said softly, but immediately regretted her words, recognising that she had no right to interpret anyone's spiritual experiences, much less those of the Head of the Church.

She heard him snort with amusement; he pulled a lighter and cigarettes from his pocket and for a moment she thought he would want to smoke in this beautiful baroque chamber, however, he moved ahead towards a small door other than the one she had entered through.

"Come." He hummed, so she moved after him, knowing that it was pointless to resist.

For the rest, the more she got to know him, the more she liked him.

They passed through a narrow corridor and began to climb up a stone staircase that spiraled around a large pillar – it seemed to her that they were in some older part of this great complex. They reached a small wooden door, and when he opened it they emerged onto the roof of one of the buildings located to the right of St Peter's Square.

The view in front of her struck her –the sun was rising over the Vatican, lazily leaning out from above the church standing in the centre of the square like a nimbus, the air around them pleasantly cool and crisp.

She watched as he moved ahead and walked closer to the stone wall, firing up his lighter and leaning forward with a cigarette in his mouth – there was something so obscene about the sight that she smiled involuntarily.

He looked at her over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, taking a drag, then slid his cigarette out of his mouth with a motion of his hand and let the smoke out silently through his nose, shaking the ash to the ground with a flick of his finger.

"It has been reported to me that journalists are slowly making their way into my past. Don't worry, I don't think it's your fault. I knew it would happen, but I thought I had more time." He murmured lowly seeing her surprised, horrified face, suddenly as if tired and discouraged, taking another drag with a quiet hiss of fire.

She thought looking at his silhouette illuminated by the first rays of the sun, that he looked like a saint.

"I want you to hear it from me. Will you listen to what I have to say?" He asked calmly and she nodded, feeling her heart pounding fast, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, terrified of what he wanted to tell her.

"My mother I told you about is a nun. She adopted me a few years after I was placed in a convent orphanage." He said calmly, looking away, staring at the crowds of people walking around St Peter's Square.

"They took me from the woman who gave birth to me because she liked to inject various stimulants into her veins. She was asleep when one of her men decided he didn't like the way I looked at him, that I was complaining about being hungry. He decided that he would gouge my eyes out, but he only succeeded with one, my screaming would wake even the dead."

He muttered, not looking at her but somewhere in the distance, letting out a puff of smoke with a deep breath; she looked at him with her eyebrows arched in pain feeling the squeeze in her throat, her cheeks red with emotion.

She wanted to say something but was afraid to interrupt him, she knew that what he was telling her was of the utmost importance and she wondered if anyone else knew about all this, if he had confided in anyone.

"Sister Alicent after I was brought in wouldn't let me call her my mother. So I called every woman I saw that, cooks, cleaners, teachers. She adopted me in the end, unable to look at it anymore. She got a dispensation from the Pope." He said lowly, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it with his completely white Adidas.

"Some trashy, cheap magazines are already writing about the fact that I am the son of a nun and the Pope, others with mockery recognise that I am certainly her immaculate conception. That they mock me doesn't bother me, but it fills me with sadness that journalists stand outside her house all day. She can't even go out shopping or gardening. I guess you think the only way out of this situation would be an interview where I would tell my story?"

He asked disapprovingly, looking at her finally; she was shocked and horrified that he was asking her opinion on such an important matter. She shook her head helplessly, shrugging her shoulders.

"You cannot allow them to make your mother a hostage, Holy Father. You must show strength. Call press conferences where you talk about what decisions you make, but don't answer questions about your family. In the Vatican, you are Pius XIII, not Aemond Targaryen. When they see that they cannot blackmail you, they will let go. In my opinion, you both have to bear it." She said what she thought, thinking in the back of her mind that journalists would always want more and the matter would only get worse.

He looked at her silently as if analysing her words and sighed finally, kicking a stone that lay under his feet with his shoe.

"Have you ever kissed?" He asked lightly and she looked at him with shock written all over her face, feeling her heart pounding like crazy, her cheeks burning with heat.

She couldn't believe such a question had come out of his mouth.

"You don't have to answer. I'm just curious. I've never kissed anyone." He replied after a moment, seeing her embarrassed reaction, as if he wanted to clarify and elaborate that his interest was purely scientific and theoretical.

She swallowed loudly, pressing her lips together, thinking that he had told her about himself, about the most private aspects of his life, and decided that nothing bad would happen if she answered him.

"Once, in high school." She muttered, stroking her arm in a gesture of uncertainty and embarrassment, looking away. She heard him hum under his breath, intrigued.

"Did it feel good?" He asked softly, standing a few steps away from her with his hands tucked into his snow-white tracksuit bottoms, cocking his head.

She looked up at him in disbelief, breathing erratically, clasping her hands tighter, involuntarily her gaze escaped to his full, glistening lips.

"It was a very moist, soft and warm sensation." She muttered feeling a tightness in her throat, her gaze fleeing from his eyes to his lips, unable to stop herself from imagining how wonderful it would be to feel how they tasted.

"Hm." He murmured, looking away thoughtfully.

They stood like that for a moment in silence – she could feel the wordless tension around them, as if electricity flowed through the air with their every word and movement.

"Did you confess this deed?"

She blinked and felt her heart stop. She shook her head, looking at him with slightly parted lips.

"Pardon?" She asked in disbelief, feeling discomfort in her lower abdomen and a cold sweat on her back, not believing that he was suggesting such a thing.

"Failure to maintain chastity before marriage is a sin." He replied indifferently; she pressed her lips together, feeling tears of shame and humiliation under her eyelids, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"So I am a sinner, Holy Father." She said coldly, and turned away, leaving without any pleasantries or even a simple goodbye.

She burst out sobbing as she ran down the narrow stairs.

It was only a kiss.

She just wanted to see what it was like.

In fact, she felt bad afterwards, but not because she thought it was a sin, but because she was not in love with this boy.

She asked Father Lenz for any of the drivers to take her home; seeing her face red from tears he asked what had happened, but she did not answer him.

She opened up to him, spoke about an intimate part of her life, and he could only judge her, make her another Eve, a fallen woman.

It was only a kiss.

She returned to her flat filled with regret and disappointment – she angrily pulled off her long dress she had bought and chosen specially to be able to present herself as expected, to keep herself humble, but for what?

She decided that she would never appear there again.

There was no kind of real contract between the two of them, she had only signed documents regarding her collaboration with the Pope's secretaries and a confidentiality clause.

She changed into her pyjamas, undid her hair, took the box of leftover cakes from the cupboard and lay in bed, browsing social media platforms on her phone, trying not to think about what had happened.

She tilted her head back and groaned in frustration when she saw that her uncle had started to call her. She muted her phone and flipped the screen down, sighing.

She lay back on her bedding, staring blankly at the window, and thought with pain that the man who should be giving her the strength to be a better person had made her doubt herself, made her feel sinful and dirty.

She started to think that maybe she should go to confession after all, that maybe he was right, that she was only making excuses for herself without wanting to admit that she was wrong, but she felt even worse at that thought and just burst out crying.

Exhausted by sobbing and remorse, she finally fell asleep, seeing only through her closed eyelids that the phone display lying next to her glowed again and again.

She shuddered, rising quickly to sit up in complete darkness when she heard someone's loud knock on her door; she looked around with a pounding heart, not knowing where she was, whether it was evening or morning.

She glanced at her phone and saw that she had slept for several long hours and the sun had set, on her screen 20 missed calls from her uncle and a plethora of text messages that she didn't have the energy to read.

She sighed heavily and got up, walking reluctantly to the door, knowing her uncle would now make a litany for her; she turned on the night light on the way so she wouldn't trip over anything and she turned the lock, opening it.

"Oh God."

She muttered, seeing the figure of the young Pope in front of her, still in the same white tracksuit and sneakers.

He had his hood up over his head.

He pulled the white earphones out of his ears with a soft flick of his hand – she could hear the heavy metal music playing from them.

"Will you let me in?" He asked indifferently; she looked at him in disbelief, thinking he was risking a lot by going outside just to see her.

She sighed quietly and stepped back, allowing him to go inside. She leaned out wanting to check if anyone had seen him and closed the door quickly.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and saw that he had turned off the music on his player and put it back in his pocket.

They stood for a moment in silence, his gaze focused on her naked thighs; she swallowed loudly with shame at the thought that she was standing before the Head of the Catholic Church in nothing but pyjamas consisting of cream shorts and a shirt buttoned up the front, under which she didn't even have a bra.

She turned her head, running her trembling hand over her face, her heart pounding like mad.

"I made a mistake." She heard his voice full of regret. "I wanted your uncle to pass it on to you, but you didn't answer."

"I didn't and don't feel like talking to anyone, Holy Father." She muttered, feeling a tightening in her chest, fiddling restlessly with the cross hanging on her neck.

She heard him swallow loudly and look to the side, pulling the hood off his head.

"I made you doubt in yourself. In your purity and your value in the eyes of God." He said lowly, and she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. She closed her eyelids and tilted her head back, trying to control herself, not letting them flow out.

She did not reply.

"My words arise from my depravity, which I fight unsuccessfully. From my vanity and jealousy. I would rather have you locked up in a convent. You could then be by my side and no one would ever touch you again. You could be mine." He said softly, thoughtfully, looking at some point on the floor, as if he had drifted off completely in his musings – she felt her lips part in disbelief, her brow arching in pain.

I would rather have you locked up in a convent.

You could be mine.

What was she to reply to such a shocking confession?

She shuddered when he finally turned his attention to her, the gaze of his healthy eye sharp and piercing, while his artificial one was empty, white, lifeless.

"Though never before have my members reacted to the sight and thought of a woman, when I see you, I long to touch you, to taste you, to smell you. I have become addicted to your scent and try to recall it after evening prayer before I fall asleep." He spoke calmly, as if it was not an emotionally driven statement but something thought out, something that had been going on in his head for a very long time.

She felt with fear how her body reacted to his words with a greedy throbbing between her thighs and a moisture from which the material of her underwear was getting wet, her nipples hardened, more clearly visible from under her shirt.

She froze when she saw his gaze flee to her breasts, seeing exactly what she feared, his full lips parted slightly; she could hear his breathing clearly, fingers of his hands rubbing against each other in an anxious, nervous gesture.

"What do you feel now?" He whispered and she drew in the air loudly, feeling a tightness in her throat. She licked her lips dry from stress, taking a step backwards, hitting her back against the wall, feeling that she had nowhere to run. She helplessly clenched her thighs together, wanting to stop what was happening, seeing that his pupil widened at the sight.

"I'm wet." She confessed in shame, recognising that there was no point in pretending that there was something innocent in what was happening – her body was twitching with desire, begging for his touch and relief, her heart pounding like mad.

She heard him draw in a loud breath at her words while looking straight into her eyes, she saw fire in them, heavenly or hellish.

"Does it feel good?" He asked softly, gazing shamelessly at the spot between her thighs – she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen and a tickling inside her, her walls were clenching around nothing at his question.

She thought helplessly that she had never felt anything like this before in her life.

"Yes." She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling her whole body quiver and pulsate, feeling desire in her fingertips, in her lips and down there, deep, deep inside her.

She shuddered as he approached her with a slow step and lifted her terrified gaze to him. His lips were parted in an anxious, hitched breath, in his eyes heat and darkness from which she felt a squeeze in her throat and between her thighs.

He stood over her, for a moment just looking at her – his trembling hands finally raised, reaching for the buttons of her shirt. They looked at each other with some kind of pain and suffering from which she felt a sting in her heart as a coldness enveloped her naked skin.

It seemed to her that it lasted an eternity – he took his time, his gaze fixed on the line of her bare body as he unbuttoned her shirt fully; he didn't expose her breasts, he just looked at her.

She gasped when he lifted his hand and ran his fingertips slowly over her sternum down to her stomach – she closed her eyes and sighed quietly, feeling her lips pulsate with desire, swollen and thirsty.

"− so soft − so warm −" He whispered; her quivering palm rose and touched his fingers, his hand larger and more massive than hers, she could feel the outline of his veins clearly under her skin.

She pressed his hand to her heart, heard him draw in the air hard as he felt it beat beneath his fingertips.

He looked at her, remaining still, as if frozen, knowing that one word from him, one expression of hesitation and they would be left with only shame, only regret, only disappointment.

She felt the tears under her eyelids, which involuntarily one by one ran down her face; he noticed it and shook his head, his breathing shaky, uneven, despairing.

"− you're so pure −" He whispered, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her cheek as if seeking refuge. She clenched her eyelids in shock at how intimate and desired this closeness was, his scent filled her entire lungs, his warm breath enveloped her cheek.

"− looking at you I feel terror because I regret − I regret that I will never feel you − that I will never give you what I want −" He muttered in a trembling voice; she felt his warm tears running down her skin.

They both gasped when his shaking hand tentatively began to slide lower and sobbed in pleasure as his fingers slipped hesitantly under the material of her shorts, deep between her thighs.

They were panting and quivering with desire, her trembling hands clenched on his arms as his fingertips pushed the material of her underwear aside with a shy gesture full of shame, she heard his low, helpless groan as he felt how wet she was.

"− God, help me −" He mumbled in a broken voice full of guilt – she tried but was unable to stop the moans of pleasure that left her mouth with each tentative movement of his fingers that brushed her swollen, throbbing womanhood, her body was so tense she felt she was on the edge.

"− please −" She whimpered pleadingly, placing her hand on his with a gesture full of desperation, wanting to feel him harder, deeper.

She tilted her head back as she finally felt him the way she wanted to, his fingertips digging into her fleshy, hot, moist folds with intense, circular strokes – she could feel his hot, ragged breath on her skin, his face pressed against her cheek, her hands clenched in a helpless gesture on the material of his sweatshirt.

Tears of despair and delight streamed down their faces, tired of pretending and fleeing, shivers ran down her spine every time the tips of his fingers teased again that tender bud from which her sobriety of mind was taken away; it seemed to her that their bodies were moving on their own, something hard and throbbing under his trousers rubbing against her thigh with desperate strokes.

"− forgive me − say you forgive me −" He mumbled pleadingly in a breaking voice.

She felt him trembling all over just like her, unable to stop now, knowing there was no way back, her face wet with her and his tears.

She reached her palm into his hair and combed through it with her fingers, letting out her breath with a loud sob, moving involuntarily to the rhythm of his hand as it pressed harder and harder against her fleshy skin with the lewd click of her moisture.

"− I forgive you − I forgive you and ask for forgiveness −" She gasped as she felt something approaching, moaning louder and louder.

She thought that despite the fact that he was touching her in this forbidden, sinful place, some incomprehensible kind of intimacy and innocence was added to what was happening by the fact that he hadn't exposed her naked body, that he hadn't wanted to possess her, only to experience something with her and in her presence.

"− good God, you're leaking − so sticky − I'll lick it off my fingers −" He whispered with a kind of awe, as if he were talking about something sacred and mysterious.

She felt that his words had done something to her – she cried out loudly, parting her lips in disbelief when suddenly a wave of warm pleasure surged through her body like a lightning bolt.

She felt wonderful tickling in her lips, in the tips of her fingers, in her breasts, in her chest, her inside's clenching greedily around nothing, her moisture trickled down onto his hand, she heard his low, surprised groan.

Her body suddenly became numb; she would have fallen if he hadn't put his arm around her in time, his hand ran over her cheek heated from the exertion.

"− you look like Bernini's Saint Teresa − so beautiful −" He mumbled in a trembling voice, panting hard along with her, looking at her dreamily. She sighed sweetly, laying her head on his chest, letting him embrace her tightly.

She could feel his manhood throbbing under the damp material of his sweatpants.

He came.

She stayed in his embrace not daring to look at him, not daring to think about what they had done, wanting to push back the moment when they would feel remorse, pain and regret, sinking only into this wonderful relief.

You look like Bernini's Saint Teresa.

A sculpture in which a holy woman curves in ecstasy after an angel pierces her with an arrow of Divine Love.

God's Delight.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

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xveenusx · 1 year

Text

Hate

Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Two people hate how much they love each other

Authors note: get ready for some filty smut and toxic relationship Rafe

Rating: smut, 18+, mdni

Warnings: explicit mature themes, choking, spitting, hitting, dirty talk, etc.

Part 2: Love

_________________

“Oh I hate that man. I hate that man. But oh, cara Mia, how I love him.”

This can’t be happening.

Was the mantra that played in my head on a constant loop as I stared at the red dress that hung neatly in the closet.

Pougelandia seemed like a dream at this point. A beautiful dream that’s been shattered by the ever waking nightmare I’m currently in.

My heart lurched in my chest as I thought about my friends. I should have listened when John B and Pope told me to leave the pilot but I couldn’t. I couldn’t let that be another thing that happened to me.

Reaching my hand out, I let my fingers graze the fabric of the dress. It slipped through my fingers easily, the fabric clearly being the most expensive thing I’ve ever worn.

A shudder ran through me as I tugged the dress off the hanger and slipped it on. Pushing the hair out of my face, I let out a shaky breath and forced myself out of the room.

I wiped my hands nervously on the gorgeous ruby dress, swallowing down the hysterical need to cry.

My eyes danced along the gorgeous house that was my prison. Wood stained columns decorated each room with what I assumed were valuable artifacts on display. The wooden arch entry way had stained glass windows that caused hundreds of colored reflections to sparkle along each and every room.

Sliding my hand along the wooden railing on the stairs, I slowly made my descent, hoping that the knocking of my knees wasn’t noticeable. A maid greeted me at the bottom of the stairs, her smile soft as she held out her hand in the direction she wanted me to go.

“This way, miss.”

I tried to send a smile back but I’m sure it came off as more of a grimace.

“Would you like a drink?” She asked, stopping at a small bar cart to the right of an open door.

“Yes, thank you.” I cleared out, stumbling over my words.

I needed several drinks just to get through this.

The maid said nothing and simply placed a glass tumbler in my hand filled with dark liquor. I brought it to my lips and took a huge gulp, relishing in the burning sensation that wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

It seemed to take the edge off and made the next few steps easier.

She motions for me to enter the room beside the bar cart and so I do, my fingers tightening on the glass.

Stepping in, I hovered by the door, taking in the room in front of me, and saw no one. Taking another drink from my glass, I shuffled further in at the sound of movement coming from the other side that was obstructed by the door.

A towering figure stood on the other side of the room, his back facing me as he made himself a drink.

My stomach tightened for some reason.

I took stock of just how well dressed this man was. His navy blue suit seemed to be tailored to fit his tall build and reeked of wealth. He was at least six foot and had an air of superiority around him. His presence almost seemed overpowering simply due to his height.

Tingles shot up my spine as something felt familiar about him.

Only one person has ever made me feel this way.

Pushing back the thought, I cleared my throat. “Um, excuse me?”

The figure turns around and our eyes connect instantly causing all air to leave my body.

His ice blue eyes widen for a fraction of a second before settling on my face. A soul penetrating stare that shook me to the core.

My grip on the glass loosened causing it to fall and shatter into thousands of pieces. Similar to how he left my heart.

Rafe Cameron.

He looked the same yet different. The eyes that I used to stare in night after night were intense and brilliant. They held hope for the future and were ironically innocent.

The man in front of me was different. His gaze had now hardened as though he experienced something dark. Those Arctic blue orbs were enigmatic and cold, no sign of innocence or hope.

The dark dirty blonde strands I once threaded my fingers in as an anchor while he kneeled in between my legs and drove me to ecstasy were gone. His hair was nearly buzzed down to the scalp giving him the appearance of a hard and refined grown man.

The once party hungry frat boy was gone, replaced by something much darker. Much colder.

The air around us was electrifying, almost to the point of suffocation.

Rafe stared down at me, his piercing blue eyes never leaving mine, not one word being said.

But I knew exactly what he was thinking, because I was thinking it too.

Memory after memory played in my head causing my cheeks to turn hot. Him taking me on the counter with my legs thrown over his shoulder. Me bent over his bike as he ruthlessly pounds into me from behind, my long hair wrapped around his hand. Rafe pinning me down by the throat as he fucks me savagely on the top deck of the yacht.

I was practically vibrating at this point, a flash of heat hitting my center, throbbing and aching for relief.

I dragged my eyes away, needing to break the connection, ignoring the familiar rush of those intoxicatingly intense feelings that always came attached to Rafe Cameron.

A gold glint catches my eyes and for the second time today, I’m rendered motionless. Speechless.

On his wrist, familiar gold cuff links decorated the sleeved cuff on his shirt.

One’s that had my initials.

I couldn’t hide the pained look I knew painted my face. Of course, he would be behind this. There was no line he wouldn’t cross in order to get what he wanted.

I learned that the hard way. The only thing that mattered to Rafe was the gold and the approval of his psychotic father. That fact was just as painful to swallow as the first time.

Months later and he still managed to thoroughly destroy whatever pieces of me exist.

I hate this man. I hate this man.

My feet moved on their own accord stopping only when we’re less than a foot apart.

My hands clenched into fists and something inside of me snapped. Slamming them down on his chest, I let out a shout and shoved him as hard as I could.

I barreled into Rafe again, my hands hitting his chest as hard as I can but he doesn’t move an inch. His tall frame remained in place no matter how hard I tried to shove and hit him.

Frustrated, angry tears gathered in my eyes as I let out a distressed noise. “I knew you and Ward were behind this shit.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly and was replaced by a cold dark look.

“Be fucking serious. Are you trying to weasel in on my deal right now? Is that what’s going on?” He spat, his eyes narrowed as he bent down to my height until his face filled my vision.

An empty laugh escaped my lips as I shook my head at him with disgust,” Yes, I decided to fly to Barbados to come and ruin your deal because the entire world revolves around you.”

Rafe let out a harsh breath that made me close my eyes tightly. His entire smell engulfed my senses.

Peppermint, apples and expensive cologne whirl through my nose as my defective and traitorous heart pounds loudly in my chest.

“I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know.” A voice from the connected room mused.

At the sight of an unfamiliar figure, Rafe moved in front of me quickly blocking my view of the man. He made a noise and tucked me behind him.

Butterflies erupt at the move, pounding away at the wall I built around my heart. I peaked under his arm and saw a short man in a suit. His olive tone skin complementing his dark hair and groomed beard that decorated his face.

“Who are you?” Rafe asked, his stance never wavering.

I dug my nails into his suit jacket as I waited for a response.

“My name is Carlos Singh. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He answered, buttoning the front of his jacket.

“I apologize for the rough tactics in bringing you here. Please come, I don’t bite.” Singh gestured to the seating area, an insincere smile on his face.

Stepping around Rafe, I cautiously look around the room before turning my gaze to him.

He subtly shook his head but I chose to ignore it and settle myself on the couch.

He didn’t get to tell me what to do.

Rafe’s eyes darkend as he muttered something harshly under his breath. Rubbing his head, he moves to where I sat angling his body slightly in between Singh and I.

“Rough tactics? What about me?”

“Ah, yes Mr. Cameron. False pretenses.”

Singh goes on a tangent describing some sort of treasure that I have no interest in and by the blank look on Rafe’s face I can see he feels the same.

“I didn’t listen to a word you said, okay? How much longer you gonna keep philosophizing?”

His words were oozing with boredom as he took a seat next to me. The warmth of his body near me made me jolt.

Clearing my throat, I stood up and took a seat in a single chair, ignoring the chuckle from Singh and the glare from Rafe.

“You’re rather direct, aren’t you Mr. Cameron?” The look on Singh’s face was threatening.

My stomach dipped with nerves at the unspoken threat in his words. I opened my mouth, hoping to distract Singh,” What do you want with me and my friends?”

“There’s a diary. The diary of Denmark Tanny. It leads to the cross of Santa Domingo and since you and your friends had the cross, you must have the diary.”

That’s what this was about?

I could already see the question in Rafe’s eyes as he zeroed in on my face. I kept my face blank, knowing despite my desire to, I couldn't tell him anything.

Tearing my gaze away from his, I told Singh,” We don’t have the diary. I dont know where it is.”

Rafe’s face hardened. His jaw clenched in anger as he looked away from me. It was unsettling.

Singh was clearly displeased as he called out for guards, tsking under his breath. Two armed guards come into the room and stall in my direction making me fumble backwards.

Rafe shielded me immediately holding up his hand,” Don’t touch her. We’re cooperating.”

The men gesture the desired direction with their guns causing Rafe’s hand to tighten its grip on mine. Singh follows closely behind clicking his tongue against his teeth.

We’re forced into a bedroom. A bedroom only sporting one bed.

No. No. No.

“Please enjoy your stay. I suggest you convince her to tell you where the diary is. You should know that I am not so forgiving nor am I patient.”

The click of a lock had me turning around in panic. Rafe moved instantly, tugging the handle harshly but it didn’t give. He hit the door in frustration letting out a curse.

I was wrong. This was the worse thing to ever happen. Rafe and I being locked together, in a room, alone.

“Try again.” I demanded, my voice raising in hysteria.

“I already did. It’s locked from the outside.”

Pushing him out of the way, I called out while banging on the door. My grip tightly on the handle as I tried to pull it open.

My calls came unanswered. Despair filled every cell in body as I took in the reality of the situation. Resting my head on the cool surface of the door, I breathed in deeply willing myself to calm down.

Warmth appeared behind me. “Are you okay-“

I pushed myself off the door and walked around him, ignoring his words entirely. I could do this. My friends will be here soon and I just had to last until then.

I couldn’t let Rafe Cameron break me for the fourth time. Not when I’ve finally glued all the pieces back together.

At the sound of a vehicle approaching and shouts of terror, I moved to the window pulling the curtains back. Rafe appeared next to me as we both peered outside through the glass.

One man in a beige bullet proof vest is dragging a man against his will while another strapped with a gun followed close behind.

“Who the hell is that guy?”

Recognition filled me as I stare at the guy being dragged away. “I know him. It’s Jimmy Portis.”

At my words, Rafe’s face turned to mine. I could feel him staring at me, wanting to know more but I couldn’t pull away from the scene in front of me.

“He was trying to help us.”

Seconds later, Singh appeared with a smug smile and a wave. Reaching behind his waist, he pulled out a gun.

My fingers tightened on the curtain.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Rafe said, his palm landing on my stomach and pushed me back gently, away from the window.

“Rafe-“ My words are cut off.

“No.” His tone left no room for negotiation as he placed himself in front of me, as though he was attempting to shield me from what happened next.

A gun shot goes off.

A shriek passes my lips as I bring my shaky hands to my mouth. Rafe didn’t even flinch. Instead, he licked his lips and turned to me.

“This diary. Hey, no bullshit,” He warns, “Dont bullshit me, Okay? Do you have it?”

His dark eyes searched mine and I fought the urge to give in. He was like a tsunami that constantly threatened to drag me under. Every sense filled with him.

I used to give him everything. Until, he couldn’t do that same. I knew, I knew I couldn’t tell him the truth.

“No.”

“Your lying.” Yes.

“Let’s both stop pretending that you know everything about me.” I deflected, as I pushed him away from me.

Distance, I repeated in my head. Get some distance.

“Baby, we both know I do. The only one pretending here is you,” his lips widened in a harsh smile, one that threatened to eat me alive, “Now, tell me about the diary.”

“We don’t have it. Do I have to add deaf to the list along with psychotic and delusional?”

Rafe takes a threatening step forward causing me to take a step back. “I’m gonna ignore that comment.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that we don’t have it.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Your lying right now. You want to know how I know?”

Shoving his hands in his pants pockets, Rafe steps in front of me swarming me from all sides. “You pick at the skin on your nails.”

Closing my eyes briefly, my stomach sinks because he was right.

I hated it him. I hated how he knew every little thing about me. I hated how he weaponized my reaction towards him again and again.

“Step. Back.”

“No, your useless friends put you in this situation. I’m trying to get us out. Where’s the diary?”

At the mention of my friends, a fire of anger ignited inside me. “Don’t talk about them like that. At least, I have them. Who do you have? Barry?”

“Have them? Where were they when you got taken? Look where we fucking are.”

“They didn’t have a choice. It was my fault anyway.”

“Why are you defending them?” Rafe asked me, staring at me with such exasperation. “Because of them, you’ve been in so much shit. Look where you are right now. They’re low lives. Stop being delusional.“

“And what,” My voice shook with anger, “be with you instead? You think your such an upgrade? Last time I checked you’re a frat boy with a coke addiction riddled with daddy issues. How could you be any better than them?”

I hated the person he turned me into. I never liked hurting anyone and here I was hurling every insult I could at him. I was consumed with the need to hurt him just as bad as he hurt me.

“Is this some knew kind of foreplay? Because, if it is, it’s working.”

“That’s what you got from that?”

He sends me a bored look. “What else could it mean?”

“Um, exactly what I said.”

“I don’t get it.” Rafe had the audacity to actually look confused.

“You’re crazy. You have to be.”

He nodded his head like this mad perfect sense. “Well, yeah. For you. I thought I made that clear.”

“When? You were too busy lying to me.”

“This again?”

“Just sit down and shut up.” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re already giving me a migraine.”

“I knew I still had an effect on you.”

“Not a good one.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

Ignoring his pretty words and charm was the only way I could survive this.

“Rafe, just stay on the side of the room and I’ll stay on mine. My friends are going to come so until then just keep to your damn side.”

He clenched and unclenched his hands as he regarded me. “And if they don’t come?”

“They will.” God, I hope so.

“So much faith in them.” Rafe said quietly, shaking his head in my direction before looking away. “Where’s your faith in me?”

“Gone. Kind of like your soul.”

I felt my pulse in my throat. His eyes turned brutal as he slowly traced his thumb along his bottom lip, almost assessing what he was going to do next.

He looked like he was going to eat me alive.

The ache in between my legs ignited again, the pulse almost unbearable.

“I can protect you.”

“Protect me? All you’ve ever done is hurt me.”

Rafe stared at me with humor as his eyebrows raised expectantly, “The only time I ever hurt you, is when you asked for it.”

Heat flashed into my cheeks. Flashbacks of my pleas for him to choke me and punish me hit me like a truck.

A frustrated noise left my lips as I grabbed a book from the dresser and threw it in his direction. “I hate you.”

No I don’t.

The humor left his blue eyes instantly as he clenched his jaw. “Watch it.”

“No. You think you can protect me?” I asked incredulously, my hands finding a remote next and I throw it at his head. “We’re in the same fucking room, Rafe.”

He side stepped the remote I threw at him easily, shaking his head. He begins to unbutton his suit jacket, his piercing blue eyes brewing a storm.

“I -“ I was momentarily distracted by him removing clothes. “Stop taking off your clothes.”

“You don’t hate me.”

He was insane. That’s what he chose to focus on?

“I do. I hate you. How many times do I have to say it for you to get it through your thick skull?”

The tension between us was stifling almost as thought there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.

“Stop fucking saying that.” Rafe barked, his words rough dropping with a warning.

He undid his cuff links slowly, almost threateningly, like it was a count down for what’s to come.

My eyes narrowed at his threat. Anger and lust consumed me as I tried to fight off the urge to kiss him. Resentment wrapped around my throat.

He takes a step forward.

“Or what?” Gulping, I took a step back. My eyes looking around for something else to throw at his gorgeous face. “Are you gonna tell me you love me? And you think I’ll believe you?”

“I never lied about that.” His tone was almost condescending as he took another steps towards me.

My heart dipped as my blood ran hot and cold. Indecision filled me. This is what he does. He surrounded me, confused me, cornered me until all I could see was him.

“Stop trying to confuse me.” Another step back.

The way he looked at me sucked all the air out of my lungs. His eyes regarded me with such desire it burned me alive. I couldn’t look away.

“You know me. Look at me and tell me I’m lying.” Rafe’s words demanding yet soft.

Blue. His eyes fucking haunted me. I felt myself slowly giving way to the enigma that was Rafe Cameron.

Forcing my eyes away, I spotted a clock on the nightstand by the bed. I reached for it just as he moved towards me.

I pegged it at him. We both watched as the clock hit his chest with a thud and fell onto the floor with a plop.

“I know you enough to know that what you say doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he wanted to kiss me or strangle me. Probably the latter since he was a psychopath.

“This monologue is getting a bit repetitive, don’t you think?”

My gut twisted. “I hate you.”

I did sound like a broken record, but it was the only phrase that seemed to get a reaction out of him.

It was the only weapon I had as every other resolve I had was slowly deteriorating before me.

“Watch your mouth,” Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Don’t say it again.”

A distressed breathe left my lips. I wasn’t winning this deadly game of tug of war.

“Why?” I wanted to break him. I wanted him us to have matching scars. His soul didn’t get to be left unscathed while mine was covered in wounds that didn’t heal.

He was closing in on me at this point. His sleeves now rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons undone revealing the gold necklace I gave him.

Why was he doing this to me?

My fingers grasp the decorative pillow from the bed as I target his head. “Because you know it’s true. At least the people in my life love me. They didn’t pretend to love me to find the gold. They didn’t leave me repeatedly.”

Slapping the pillow out of the way, he stood two feet away from me. “Leave you? You left me.” The words held no emotion, just cold hard facts.

I bring my hand to the side of my face as I shake my head at him in disbelief.

“You chose the gold. Not once, not twice, but three fucking times. You chose to lie to me. Again and again. So I may have left, but the minute you chose the gold over me was the moment you decided I was worth losing.”

I remember the last time I saw him clear as day. The cross was being pulled up by Pope on the crane when I saw a figure with a gun take off running in his direction.

My whole body froze as I took in the person behind the gun. We both regarded each other with shock. I felt my heart break for a second time as I realized how he got the cross.

His guilt ridden eyes stared at me as I realized just how stupid I had been. I begged him to come with us. To leave the cross that was about to fall off the boat and come with me. Tears were streaming down my face as I screamed for him to leave.

To finally choose me. To love me the way I loved him.

It felt like hours when he finally made his decision. And, it wasn’t me. Rafe took off running towards the chain that was tied to the cross as he screamed for help from the crew.

My heart broke for the third and final time. I don’t think I could survive a fourth.

A touch to my face pulled me out of the painful memory. Rafe’s in front of me now, towering above my dainty figure, his fingers grazing my cheek.

“Can you please just let me explain?”

Jerking back, I slapped his hand away from my face.

His eyes flashed,”What? Now I can’t even touch you.”

“I loved you.” I whispered the words causing him to tense. “But, I’m done. I’m so completely and utterly done with you.”

Anger radiated off him in waves and the sudden urge to step back overcame me. Only, when I did the back of my thighs hit the bed.

He’d cornered me into the direction of the bed.

“Loved?” He murmured, almost to himself.

Rafe runs his hand across his jaw, analyzing me slowly. Seeming to have made up his mind, he envelops my very space with his hand threading itself tightly within the roots of my hair at the nape of my neck.

Bending down to my height, his breath fans along my lips causing heat to surge through out my body. He was addictive.

“Just to be crystal fucking clear. You won’t ever be over me. This will never be over.”

Dread sat in my stomach like lead at the truth in his words. He knew it, I knew it. .

My eyes burned. My heart ached. All I knew, in that very moment, was I hated how much I loved him.

He was inevitable. The way we consumed each other was nothing short of catastrophic. We shined too bright that we burned each other.

“Don’t do this to me. Don’t you dare do this to me again.” I pleaded tearfully, begging for him to show an ounce of mercy.

Holding on to us was cruel. Rafe wasn’t going to change for me. He loved in his own way, but it was brutal, obsessive and mad. It was also intoxicating, intense, and painfully beautiful. It was too much.

I used to think I could handle it, because being with him was the only thing that made sense. He made me feel the sweetest high that sent me into a euphoric oblivion.

I thought my love was enough for him. Call me naive, but I wholeheartedly believed that I could help those broken parts of him heal. But Rafe was too broken. All the pieces of him I tried to carry in my arms only cut me in the process as I slowly bled out.

He had taken every piece of me with him. It was hard to tell where I ended and he began.

“Why are you wearing that necklace?” I asked him, the backs of my eyes burning. I needed him to say it. I needed him to tell me and actually mean it.

Rafe shook his head, his blue eyes were soul-wrenching. “You know why.”

My hands trembled as they connect with his shirt, griping the crisp material in desperation.

“Why are you wearing those cuff links?”

Why couldn’t he just say it?

When he didn’t respond to me, I felt the last bit of glue give way and my heart got devoured by grief.

I let go of his shirt. “You’re a coward. You’ve always been a coward.”

His eyes flickered with hurt but I didn’t care. Blind rage filled me and I pushed him. When he didn’t react, I did it again and again screaming out every morsel of pain that threatened to kill me.

It only lasted seconds. Rafe had enough and quickly caught both my wrists in his hands. His face was cruelly beautiful.

It mocked me.

“Calm down.” He ordered, his face a mask of cruel indifference. But, I knew him.

His eyes were filled with cold fury and by the slightly tremble from his body, I knew he was close to losing control.

“I fucking hate you.” I spat the words out vehemently. I watched as the words hit him square in the chest.

He sent me a wolffish grin. “I warned you.”

Rafe shoves me onto the bed trying to pin my squirming body down but I refuse to comply. I try to leverage my legs to buck his heavy body off of me but he only smacks my thigh causing me to suck in a breath.

“Let me go.” The heat of his body seared into me. He smelled like sin and regret.

“Stop fucking fighting me,” Rafe responded with a grunt.

I could feel light coat of sweat start to cover my body, the silk of the dress rubbed against my skin only making the throbbing worse. I kicked my leg out but my dress only slipped further up my body, my thigh now fully exposed.

Rafe’s eyes clocked the newly exposed skin. His distraction bought me enough time shove his shoulders back causing him to stagger.

Pulling my body up, I tried to crawl off the bed but shriek when familiar hands clamped onto my ankles and dragged me back down the bed.

“God, you asshole.”

He ignored me and straddled my hips, his legs pinning me in place. My heart pulsed against my rib cage.

“I’m the asshole? You’ve been throwing shit at me for the past ten minutes.”

Glaring at him, I jerk my arm free with the full intention of slapping him when Rafe catches my hand.

“Stop trying to hit me.” He growled, his patience gone. With rough hands, he grabbed both my wrists and pinned them above my head in one hand. The other gripped my chin tightly, forcing my eyes to his volatile memorizing blues.

“Now that I have your attention. Take it back.” Rafe breathed out harshly.

He waited for me to answer but the words never left my lips. Instead, my entire focus was on the rigid mass of muscles that were pressed against my body.

My dress had entirely pooled at my waist, the lace black thong I wore peaked out from under.

Rafe leaned down and moved his grip on my chin up slightly so my lips pursed out in a pout.

His swipe his tongue against my pouty lips before placing a soft kiss along them. “Take it back.”

The small act made my body feel like it was on fire and the desire to arch my back and beg for more was overwhelming.

The evidence of our struggle was resting hard against my stomach. Desire filled my mouth but I couldn’t let him see that. I tried to jerk my head out of his grasp but he tsked.

Maneuvering his body slightly, he rested himself in between my legs. Slowly reaching in between us, the tough calloused hand I loved having around my throat trailed along my thigh, curling around my knee and hooking it across his waist.

“Oh god…” I couldnt control the whimper that escaped me. My body was wired tight with anticipation at the familiar rush of want threatened to drown me.

His hand trailed back, the bits of his nails scraping along my naked thighs. They catch the waistband of my thong where he teasingly slips a finger underneath.

“I can feel how hot your pussy is.” The words were rough against my lips. “We’re so good together. All you have to do, is take it back.”

“No.” Yes.

His chuckle was throaty almost hoarse as he trembled with barely there restraint. “That fucking mouth.”

Rafe allowed his open palm to travel up my navel, the roughness of his hand contradicting the silk of the dress.

“Please.” I was weak, I was so incredibly weak. I was a trembling mass of limbs under him just at his touch.

The palm of his hand finally trails up between the valley of breasts before curling around my throat tightening possessively.

“Take. It. Fucking. Back.” He emphasized each word with a hot kiss to my lips.

I clamped my eyes shut willing for him to disappear. What do you do when your worst nightmare is also the love of your life?

I felt his forehead rest against mine, his breath heavy against my own. “Don’t say that to me. Say whatever the hell you want, but not that. Never that.”

I slowly opened my eyes. Deep pools of glacial blue stare back at me overwhelmingly beautiful and gloriously mad.

“I didn’t mean it.” The words were spoken softly, barley above a whisper.

Rafe closed his eyes briefly in relief. “You drive me insane.”

A giggle erupted from my chest at the irony of his words because I’m almost certain he’s clinically psychotic. At the sound of my laughter, he opens his eyes and sends me a soft smile that relaxed all the harsh lines in his face.

Lifting a hand to his face, my finger tips slowly smooth out the stressed lines along his eyes.

“My head.”

“What?” I asked letting my hand finally run through the buzzed hair on his scalp, goosebumps erupt on my skin at the thought of it in between my legs.

“It’s finally quiet.”

My hand froze at his honesty and my heart ached for him. The same heart that has now decided to throw all reason outside the window.

I just wanted this pain to go away even for a few moments. He always had the ability to take it away even if he was the one causing it.

I tugged him down gently and he followed me with ease. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes darted to my lips.

“Did you miss me?”

A rumble left his chest. “Fuck, I missed you.”

My heart soared at his confession. I dragged the tips of my nails down the curve of his jaw and trail down his throat making him freeze.

At the sight of the familiar gold chain that decorated his neck, my legs clenched around him.

Even apart, he always kept me with him.

Not bothering to look up, I leaned forward with one finger grasping the chain that hit my chest while my lips placed an open mouth kiss along the curve of his neck.

I caught the chain between my lips humming to myself, completely entranced by him. Rafe balled the sheet in his grip by my head but it wasn’t enough. I needed to get it out of him.

Running my nose along the side of his neck inhaling deeply, my tongue slips out gently applying pressure as I drag it up his neck slowly.

Reaching the curve of his jaw, I peppered open mouth kisses like I would his lips. My blood drummed through my ears and need entered my bloodstream.

“Will you fucking kiss me already?” Rafe said gruffly, nipping at my lip.

He stared at me with half lidded eyes, his pupils blown out wide in arousal. “What do I get if I do?”

The filthy smile he shot me was filled with sin.

“I’ll fuck you dumb. Just how you like it.” He put his lips to my ear, the promise in his voice had me shivering in anticipation.

Tilting my head up, I smashed my lips to his causing him to let out a groan of relief. Our kiss was messy and desperate after so much time apart, our teeth clashed as we fought for dominance.

Rafe took over the kiss practically inhaling my very breath as his tongue brushed against mine. His fingers biting into the tops of my thighs as I tilted my hips up against his, desperate for friction.

Pulling back slightly, Rafe’s hand grips my chin roughly forcing my lips into a pout. Breathing harshly, he leaned forward and licked my pursed lips before kissing me again.

Capturing my tongue between his lips, he sucks on the muscle causing me to let out a soft whimper. We separated, our eyes lock on each other filled with lust, both of us breathing hard and accepting our fate.

“You gonna be good for me?”

The ache between my legs was almost painful as I nodded my head at him, begging with my eyes.

Rafe’s hands moved to my waist in seconds has he gathered the scrunched fabric and ripped over my head, leaving me in my black lace thong and nothing else.

His eyes darkened with each passing second as he stared at my body. I leaned back on the palms of my hands and arched my back in invitation.

Rafe traced the curves of my body with his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. His eyes never left my body as he took in every detail.

He looked starved.

Impatiently, I tugged at his shirt and started fumbling with the buttons. Finally the shirt gave way as I pushed it off his shoulders, my hands coming in contact with his built chest, smooth and firm.

His muscles flexed under my touch as I became mesmerized by his body. He had gotten bigger than before, his arms now bulging with muscles.

My fingers trailed down his tight pecs to his abdomen where I let one finger trail along each chiseled ab, my mouth salivating at the thought of tasting each bit of skin.

My breath started coming out in pants. Those blue eyes gleamed at my obvious attraction and the smirk on his lips said enough. His cheeks dusted slightly with pink at my burning undivided attention.

My hand dipped between us to the tent in his slacks and I slowly pressed my palm against the hard bulge. Rafe let out a relieved sigh as his hips pushed against my hand for more pressure.

“Rafe..” I let out a needy whine. The only coherent thought I could form was that I need him inside me.

“Hmm?”

“I want it now.”

He chuckled at my words, licking his lips slowly as he trailed his open palm up my abdomen towards my breasts. Cupping my breast in his hand, he gave it a squeeze before flicking the nub.

My eyes closed tightly, relishing at how his large hands gripped me. His mouth latched onto the hard nub forcing a gasp from me as he sucks and teasingly swipes his tongue around in circles.

He switches his attention to the other causing me to throw my head back in appreciation. My hands held on his head as I pulled him closer to my chest.

Brining his lips back to mine, Rafe nips at my jaw before dragging soft kisses down the size of my neck. I could feel my core start to clench on nothingness due to the level of sensitivity my body was wired on.

His lips latch onto my neck, as he pulled my skin into his mouth, sucking harshly. His hands kneaded into the globes of my ass as he left his mark on my body.

Examining his handy work, Rafe placed small kisses on the several hickeys I knew he left on my neck.

Nothing he did was ever on accident. This I knew he did for a reason, to prove the one point I tried to deny.

We were so good together.

“I’m going to eat you fucking alive.” Harsh words were rasped against my lips as his fingers dipped to my waist, curling around the ribbon of my thong before tugging roughly. The straps gave way as he tore my panties off, quickly tucking them into his pocket.

Now completely bare, Rafe’s fingers dancing across my smooth mound. Unconsciously, my legs opened further at the feeling of his cold rings against my pulsating pussy.

Fuck, those rings.

He glided a single digit along the slit dipping it in between when a low pained moan left his lips.

“You’re dripping on the mattress.”

I didn’t give myself the chance to be embarrassed at his words because the way he was looking at me had me breathless. My brain was blank. Not one explanation came to mind other than him.

He did this to me.

Rafe slips another finger in, the evidence of my arousal being used as lubricant against my clit.

Cursing, he moves off the bed and grabs my hips, tugging me to the edge of the bed where he kneels. Forcing my legs open further, his breathe hits my lips and I can’t hide the tremble in my legs.

His thick ring covered fingers slowly rub my lips before dipping in, separating them slowly in the shape of a ‘V’ opening me up completely under his greedy gaze.

Rafe pushes a finger in, meeting no resistance, and I can feel myself immediately clench around him.

A moan slipped out as he slowly began to thrust in and out while his thumb ghosted along my clit. Slipping another finger in, he begins to pick up his pace, the only sounds to be heard are the squelching of my juices and his hard grunts.

It was obscene how loud the wet noises were but he was eating it up.

Flicking my nub with his thumb, he curled his fingers making me cry out in pleasure. Pulling them out, Rafe finally leans down and drags his tongue from ass to clit.

Prying my lips open, Rafe sticks his tongue indices of me, thrusting in and out. He hummed against my clit, pulling them between his lips and sucking harshly.

“Fuck you for leaving me. I could have had this every day but you took it away from me.” To anyone else, I knew that came off as mean and probably extremely aggressive. But, I knew what he actually meant.

That translated to, I missed you.

My legs were wrapped around his head with my back arched as I rutted my hips against his face. His fingers, which were drenched in my slick, trailed up my stomach and onto my breasts covering me in my juices.

It only made me burn more.

I began to convulse under his brutal assault of my pussy and my nerves were shot. “Oh god, oh god.” I gasped as my fingers dragged along his scalp.

He hand successfully pinned me down by his forearms as he continued to lap at my lips. Rafe circled my clit with his tongue, prodding at it again and again in a relentless assault. Not giving me a moment to breath, he softly bits on the nub at the same time he slams to fingers into me.

A wave of pleasure hits my body and my toes curl in ecstasy with my eyes slammed shut. I could feel myself gushing onto his face as his name comes out in loud chants.

A warm flush passes through my body as I slump against the bed, exhausted. A languid sigh leaves my mouth as I try to catch my breath.

Rafe presses one long kiss against my pussy, his fingers forming a ‘v’ once more to watch as I dripped onto the mattress. I could feel the wetness under my ass but didn’t dare move.

“So fucking pretty.”

Rafe stood up from between my legs and towered over me with dark eyes.

Holy fuck.

Spit and my arousal dripped from chin, his entire mouth and nose glistening from my juices.

His eyes never moved from mine as he lazily began to undo his belt with one hand. Tugging it off his waist, he tossed it to the ground before he began to unzip his pants.

Rafe stepped out of his pants and underwear leaving him completely naked. I had remind myself to properly breathe.

His dark hooded eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

He gripped his hard and heavy cock in one hand letting out a groan. Tilting his head back slightly, he lazily tugged at his cock making my pussy pound with need.

He looked like a Greek god with his head thrown back like that in pleasure.

“Are you fucking me or what?” There was a bite to my words.

Rafe narrowed his eyes at me before languidly stroking his cock a few more times. “Don’t get pissy.”

I opened my mouth to argue then shut it closed as he came into the bed, spreading my legs wide open.

“Look at me.”

My eyes darted up and connected with his darkened blue orbs. Without breaking eye contact, Rafe gathered saliva in his mouth and spits directly onto my pussy while his hands pinned me open.

My chest heaved up on down at the action, making me feel so filthy. He brings the tip to my slit and slaps it gently against my sensitive engorged lips.

A pained whine escaped me at his teasing.

“Someone’s needy.” He mused.

Leaning forward, he slowly pushed in cursing under his breath. My legs were shaking as I furrowed my eyes brows at the intrusion.

I felt full as my eyes glossed over the more he pushed his hips in. I didn’t remember him stretching and making me feel this full.

“Rafe, I dont think-“

“I used to fuck you in the shower, the car, in the fucking boat. You can take me, baby.” He murmured against my lips, taking my bottom lip in between his teeth and tugged gently. “You used to sit on my cock and keep me warm.”

He slides another inch, my cunt sucking him in. I could feel every ridge of his thick hard cock against my quivering walls.

“That’s it. Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” Rafe praised, his hands dancing along my thighs in a loving caress.

I felt myself clench at his words and a wave a clinginess hit me. Mewling for contact, Rafe reads my face with satisfaction as leans over me, giving me the closeness I needed.

My nails dig into his shoulders as he sinks into me further, causing my mouth to open and close like a fish out of water.

I momentarily forgot how to breathe. He completely bottoms out inside me drawing a loud moan from my lips.

“Such a good girl for me,” Rafe muttered, pressing soft kisses along my face. “Your pussy remembers exactly who owns it.”

He let out a deep groan in my ear causing goosebumps to appear. He was so fucking vocal, he knew how to kill me.

“I’m the only one that fucks you the way you need to be fucked, right?”

I ignored the questions, instead focusing my attention on the feel of his cock twitching inside me.

Rafe pulls out before slamming back into me, a scream leaving my lips as my back arched in pleasure.

“Fucking answer me.”

I could barely hear him over the pounding of my ears.

He begins to rut into me, each thrust echoing with sopping wet sounds. My walls quivered and pulsated around his dick.

Slowing down his pace, he pushes my thighs up, folding me in half before slamming into me again. The tip of his dick brushes my cervix making my eyes roll to the back of my head as I gasped for breath.

Rafe’s pace is brutal as he savagely fucks me into the mattress. A choked sob left my mouth as I dug my nails deeper into his skin.

The sound is skin hitting skin echos in the room making me clench even harder. My upper thighs were soaked with my slick and his spit, making the noise all the more dirty.

“Tell me I’m the only one that fucks you like this.”

A gargled noise left my lips as my brain began to short circuit. He only pounded into me harder at my lack of response.

I could only focus on the ceiling as I gasped for my breath.

“You think JJ can get you to forget how fucking breathe?”

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

My eyes were blown wide and my mind completely blank as I mumbled incoherently under him.

“How about Pope? Does he know how to get you break?”

He harshly spat the words, punctuating each sentence with a pistoled thrust. I was a mindless mess under him. My eyes rolled to the back of my head with my mouth dropped open.

“You’re a fucking freak. They don’t know how to handle you. But, I do.”

He needed to stop talking before I blacked out.

Letting go of my legs he tried to move back, but I immediately wrapped them around his waist, wanting to be as close as two people could.

I was a desperate whining mess as I begged him for more.

Roughly grabbing my chin in between his two fingers, his eyes laced with heat. “Open your mouth.”

With wide eyes, my mouth slowly opens and my tongue slides out. Rafe places his mouth over mine before spitting directly onto my tongue all the while slowly thrusting in and out of my gummy walls.

Moving back, he stared at me through half lidded eyes. “Swallow it.”

My brain had turned to mush at this point. I blinked at him before I swallowed his spit, humming under his heated gaze.

“Missed that pretty mouth.”

I clamped down on him at his words. I blushed under his gaze. Rafe dipped his head, connecting our lips, licking his way into my mouth.

Suddenly, I feel him pull out of me causing me to whine in protest at the loss. His hands grabbed my hips in a brutal grip before turning me over onto my stomach.

He tried lifting my hips into position but they were shaking so intensely that I couldn’t hold them up.

“My legs-“ I gasped out gulps of air with my face resting onto the sheets, my hands gripping the sheets into tight balls.

“Come on, baby. Don’t you want to be good for me? Hold up your legs.” He cooed in my ear.

At his demand, I somehow found the strength to push myself up, arching my back as far as I could with my legs shaking.

A guttural groan erupts from his chest as I feel him separate my ass cheeks. Sinking back into me, Rafe begins to truly fuck me into oblivion.

His pace is animalistic, not stopping once. “I’m in your fucking stomach.” He spoke through gritted teeth, his grunts filling the room.

One of his hands trailed up my spine before wrapping itself around the nape of my neck, threading his fingers into my hair and pinned me down.

My cries were muffled into the sheets as he’s grip on my neck tightened possessively.

“Had-Harder, Rafe. Please, please please.” I was babbling on and on with pleads.

He was fucking me so hard I’m almost certain he left an imprint. My eyes began to water from overstimulation as he kept bottoming out against my cervix.

I could slowly start to feel myself spasming against his dick, with each glide and thrust. His hands now holding my hips in a punish grip, sure to leave bruises.

It was too much. I kept forgetting how to breathe and found myself slowly becoming light headed from the pleasure.

Tears began to fall and soak the sheets bellow me as I cried out with whimpers. Choked sobs loudly leave my mouth at him roughly pulling back before grinding back into me.

“You’re so pretty when you cry.”

I went stupid.

He fucked me relentlessly, his palms messaging the fat of my ass before slapping it. Reaching between us, his fingers circle my clit, causing sharp hiss to leave me.

My legs gave out beneath me as tears continued to leak. Rafe didn’t care, instead he continued to piston into me muttering words of praise.

The tightness in my stomach began to build, my toes curling in anticipation. “Oh god. I’m-“

I couldn’t finish my words as my mind went compelled numb, a hot flash a white bursting behind my eye lids. A wave I’ve pleasure snapped as I wailed out his name.

I withered underneath him before my body went completely limp, warm with satisfaction.

He never slowed down. Rafe continued to fuck me through my orgasm as I whined and incoherently begged for more.

I gushed all over his legs, half dazed and mindless.

“W-wanna see your face.” I begged him numbly, needing to see his face when he finished.

“Whatever you want.” Rafe flipped me onto my back before pushing into me once more.

The intrusion has me throwing my head back where he grunted as he dragged his tongue along the side of my exposed neck.

I sobbed to myself. I could taste the salt on my lips and I knew my mascara was running down my cheeks.

My head lolled to the side, my eyes half shut as I stared at him. His neck was tight, and his body tense as him pace began to pick up speed. A new sense of vigour filled him as he rutted into me.

“Rafe, I-I want it.” The words were reckless, but he fucked all my braincells gone.

He was hitting me so deeply, you could see the bulge slightly through my stomach.

A groan ripped out of his mouth, his eyes finding mine. He looked drunk. Drunk off of me.

“You want my cum, baby?”

I nodded stupidly.

“I knew you could take it. Such a good fucking girl for me. So good to me.”

Rafe leaned down and hungrily kissed me, our lips clashing against each other. I panted into his mouth as he rocked into me again and again.

He pulled out before slamming himself back in again and again, grunting and moaning as he fucked the life out of me.

“I’m gonna come inside this pretty pussy.” He grunted against my lips, “I’m gonna fill you up.”

My arms wrapped themselves around his head, forcing his forehead against mine. My eyes stayed on his as I slowly lifted my hips and rocked them against his.

His thrusts begin to stutter as I whispered dirty little nothings to him. I couldn’t control the desire that had me pressing open mouth kisses along his face.

I licked and lapped at his mouth, kissing him roughly.

Rafe began to moan loudly, sweat dripped down the side of his face but I caught it with my tongue.

“Fucking brat.” He cursed out, pinning me down by my throat, the cool metal of his rings soothing my burning skin.

My hand held onto his that was on my throat to serve as some sort of anchor. He took his other hand and wiped my tears across my face, making more of a mess.

“I knew you’d cry for me.”

Rafe clenched his jaw in pleasure before throwing his head back and letting out a loud moan.

Planting himself deeply inside me, I gasped and clamped down on him and in seconds he filled me with his cum.

My body was exhausted as I lazily stared up at him, a small smile of satisfaction decorating my lips.

Wincing as he slowly pulled out of me, I could feel his seed slowly leak out of me and onto the bed.

Rafe caught the slick arousal with his finger and slowly dipped it back inside of me causing me to hiss due to the over-sensitivity.

I watched him through tired eyes, catching his hand into mine and brought it to my face.

His hand curled along my jaw as he wiped the remaining tears away with his thumb. Rafe stared at me with open infatuation as he traced my eyes, then my nose, and finally my lips with his fingers.

“You’ll never be over me.”

At his words, I felt a pang hit my chest that painfully curled around my heart.

His words were cruel, but true.

He wasn’t good for me. In fact, he was my own personal demon that caused all sort of pain in my life time and time again.

Rafe brought me to life. A spark inside me, that I didn’t know existed, ignited. I ached for his attentions and became quickly addicted. His charm and smile lured me into his web of lies and manipulation, and never let me out.

Instead, I threw myself deeper into his web and wrapped myself around his bed of lies. His darkness became my darkness and I accepted every ugly piece of him.

His presence was overwhelming that at times I found it hard to breathe and hard to think. He made me loose my sanity. My very existence had circled around one thing: Rafe.

I would never get over him because he was in my fucking bloodstream.

“I hate you.” My words were weak at best, softly spoken. I stared at him openly hurt, my face shattered as the reality of our situation sets in.

Rafe mirrors my expression, “No, you don’t.”

So I ask you again, what do you do when the monster from your nightmares is also the love of your life?

——————————

Side note: they are fucking F-R-E-A-K-S. He’s so hot I cant even. This is going to be part one of a two part series!!! Please let me know what you think:)

#obx smut #outerbanks imagine #obx #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe angst #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #outer banks season 3 #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction

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suiseisyojo · 1 year

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please give me all your love

「riddle rosehearts, lilia vanrouge, vil schoenheit x gn!reader」 ↳ in which you accidentally drink a love potion and fall for the one who's always harbored unrequited feelings for you. [part 2 here] cw: angst, suggestive themes (all)

[riddle rosehearts]

You two were childhood friends and Riddle’s been in love with you ever since he could remember; it was ironic, truly, that after consuming a love potion, he was the first person you sought out. Trusting in his judgment to know what to do under these circumstances. Didn't you know that the potion would make you fall for him? How could you be so utterly reckless?

Everyone at Heartslabyul already knew of the Housewarden's surreptitious soft-spot for you in spite of his objections to it. You always obeyed the rules, following them to the best of your ability—even when you were frustrated with them, all because, "I like the Queen of Hearts, too♪".

But Riddle's feelings blossomed much sooner than that. When you'd write him letters under the guise of educational tips with a secret code hidden inside so that his mother wouldn't be overly suspicious. When you'd taken him gently by the hand, holding onto him with such strength, as if you were afraid he'd slip from your fingers, and told him, "I like being your friend, Riddle. You're super smart, and you always let me be myself! You're the only one who can do that for me!".

Which is why it hurt when he felt your arms wrap around him, hands lingering around his waist in an intimate way you'd never do with a friend. Words of praise and adulation left your mouth, dripping like a sickening honey. "I love you, Riddle. You're so cute when you blush⋯ Hey, we've been together all this time, we should stay together forever⋯"

“[Name], d-don’t kiss there; that’s inappropriate⋯!”

With your body pressed tautly against his back as his arms carried you back to your dorm, Riddle felt your lips press quick, feverish kisses along the nape of his neck; the sensation evoking goosebumps to cascade across his sensitive skin as frissons of heat rippled down the column of his spine.

The dulcet sound of your sweet, breathless giggles filled his ears as you suppressed the compulsion to smother his skin in your kisses. And Riddle couldn’t help but recollect the copious times as kids he was left to your whims, incapable of doing anything but following along.

“We’re not children anymore, if it’s carrying you like this, I can handle it,” Riddle retorted curtly. It was frustrating when you refused to listen to his scoldings, especially in this situation where your mind was rapt with fabricated affection. “⋯ Hah, they’re not listening anymore.”

Riddle entered within your room, setting you down onto the bed with the utmost caution. Left in his care, you were peering up at him with pleading, dewy eyes; and he heaved a sigh in response. “You’ll kick up a fuss if I leave, so I’ll stay. But you’re not to leave the room until the potion wears off, got it?”

As you nodded your head, Riddle went to whirl around on his heel and head over to your desk when you abruptly entwined your arms around his neck and tugged him down—your lips meeting his. “Mmph! [Name], what are you⋯?!” Riddle breathed out, tinctures of desperation and panic heady in his voice, before he felt you press another kiss against him.

You pulled him into you further, allowing his weight to descend overtop of you as you hopelessly deepened the kiss. Deeper, deeper; you pressed him into you despite his protests.

“——You’re a cruel person, [Name]! Do you even know how much I love⋯” Cutting himself off tersely, Riddle seized your shoulders and pushed you back away from him as he swiftly stood up.

Vexation was acrid on Riddle’s tongue as he was maddened with your naivety, your thoughtlessness, and he gritted his teeth together and snapped at you, “Stay in bed. If you come any closer to me, it’s off with your head, you understand right?”

The feel of your lips sunk into his rapid pulse, permeating a warmth that ached—but the thought of experiencing it again was nothing more than an unimaginable wonderland.

[lilia vanrouge]

Lilia never expected you to return his love—he truly felt content in how your relationship currently was; doting on you whenever you were overburdened by the bits and pieces of life’s difficulties and were in need of a little spoiling⋯ in need of him and the advice he can offer.

That's why, when Lilia had heard you’d drinken a love potion, he was quick to be at your side. He couldn’t let anyone take advantage of you, could he? He always, perpetually, looked after you! As soon as he questioned how you were doing, he found you suddenly clinging on him; and that’s when he realized what was going on. The love potion had made you fall in love with him.

"Lilia-san, my chest hurts. It's overflowing because of you!" The darling words spilled from your lips as you enveloped him in your arms, taking hold of him like he was your everything.

Soothing hands cascaded through your hair, ameliorating your fear towards the inundation of new feelings. Lilia was here, as he always was, soothing you; taking care of you.

“You’re eager, little one. But you shouldn’t be doing this,” Lilia’s low, modulated voice whispered against your ear with an almost teasing lilt as you squirmed in his lap; yearning for his hands on you. “⋯ Why? Because this isn’t how you truly feel. It’s just the effects of the potion you drank.”

Lilia’s lithe fingers brushed away strands of your hair from sticking to your face, luxuriating in how your body flushed from his simple, yet loving, actions. You were too adorable like this, pliable and receptive to his every movement in a way he’d never seen from you before.

Rubbing your cheek against his, you smoothed your hand over his chest and tapped the tips of your fingers along with the beat of his heart; his heart that thumped and thumped in its socket, thrumming warmth along his body.

“Fine, just a little. I’ll give you some love♪”

Planting feathery kisses into the crook of your neck, Lilia placed a hand on your back as he massaged languid, affectionate circles into you. He could feel your body begin to tremble as a smile curved on your lips, reveling in how he was finally showering you in his love.

Lilia never considered himself a selfish person—he always took your feelings into consideration when he interacted with you, keeping you at arm’s length with his scares and equally inane pranks.

But as he held you, he felt a greedy vine slither between and around his ribcage; encasing his heart with thorns that perforated his resolve, letting his forbidden devotion leak out. The desperate, unending need to have you be his in a way unlike before.

“Are you satisfied yet?” Lilia asked softly as he removed his lips from your neck, your supple skin that shimmered from the saliva left behind. A slow, deep corruption until the potion wears off and you can never return. “No? My my, you’re almost as greedy as me, little one.”

[vil schoenheit]

At first, Vil was furious with you—how could you be so ignorant and stupid as to drink a potion without knowing what it’ll do to you? That was⋯ until the person whose affections you were sworn to have was him.

Hearts rose from the depths of your eyes, illuminating your innocence. You followed him everywhere, desperate for just a glimpse at the man who swallowed your mind whole. "Vil-san, you're perfect. You’re all I can see and feel."

Vil had always knew you didn’t love him in the way he loved you. Yet, still, he was persistent in attaining your love. One day, you’d be his; and he’d never give up on it. The graceful and talented one who wove him the finest outfits with all your skills and devotion. The one who sits through lectures and lessons out of reverence in order to cultivate your knowledge on fashion and beauty. Never cutting any corners.

He’ll “eat” up the you who’s drowning in forbidden love for him and melt it into reality, make it come true; as if the effects of the love potion were simply your feelings since the start.

A silky, lustrous mouth sucked on your ear, leaving a thin trail of saliva connecting your sensible lobe to his painted lips. In each teardrop clinging to your lashes, Vil could see your need for him—and it only exacerbated the unabating longing in his chest.

Vil’s slender finger traced along your jawline, tilting your head upwards to gaze upon his impassioned countenance. “Simply perfect. With your lips trembling, breaths thickening⋯ you’re like a ripe fruit. It’s divine,” he praised you, haughty and amorous. “No matter how embarrassing it is, this is who you are.”

Being the one to bring you such heights of beauty and pleasure, Vil was beyond pleased with your quivering body laid beneath him on his bed. His hands moved across your body with such a precision of ardency, it was ethereal. It made you feel hot, needy.

Vil brought his lips down to your exposed collarbone, nibbling at the skin; a sweet scent rose from your heated flesh, letting him suck on the honey-like essence. “Look over there, my doll, in that mirror,” he instructed you, nails digging into your thigh as you obediently did as you were told.

However, upon seeing the silhouette of your own body shaking from your gratification, you squeezed your eyes shut. “Hey, don’t look away. This is what you wanted, right? To receive all my love like this⋯ am I wrong?” A wicked laugh bubbled on his lips, his lips that were still pressed against your clavicle, and the motion magnified his kisses.

Now that he’s gotten a taste, Vil would stop at nothing to continue to devour you—he wanted this sight of you all to himself a little longer. Even if all that reflected in your glossy eyes were nothing more than a sweet lie.

“The ‘you’ who doesn’t hold back in your desires is the most beautiful of them all.”

#riddle rosehearts #lilia vanrouge #vil schoenheit #riddle rosehearts x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #x reader #gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #love potion series

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verosvault · 4 months

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🚨 SPOILERS FOR FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 5!!!🚨 | SYNOD MALL PUNS!!!

The different shop puns in the set of the fight! 😆😆

Some of it is hard to see. Because the set is SO BLUE! 😭😭💀💀

✨THACO BELL✨

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ・○

✨Ochre Jellious✨

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ・○

✨BARDS & NOBLES✨

Tomevendore

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ・○

✨Armour Zombie & Lich✨

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ・○

Also big shoutouts to the ones on the dome that weren't really mentioned/shown on the set! But show on the dome!

I took screenshots of these upcoming pictures from (https://dimension20.fandom.com/wiki/Synod_Mall)!!!

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ・○

✨BUILD-A-BUGBEAR WORKSHOP✨

✨BURROW'S END✨

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ・○

✨YARRBUCKS COFFEE✨

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ・○

✨PHILLY'S GHOSTSTEAKS✨

✨ARCANEAGNE'S✨

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ・○

✨BLOODBATH & BEYOND✨

✨Mystic Pizza✨

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ・○

✨Calescent Theme✨

✨PHILOSOPHER'S SCONE✨

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ・○

I can't read like...2 or 3 of the stores cause they're covered by columns!!! 😭😭😭😭🥲🥲🥲🥲

#dimension 20 #dimension20 #blog #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #mall madness #fantasy high mall madness #fantasy high junior year episode 5 #the Synod #the Synod Mall #Synod #Synod Mall #puns #d20 puns

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hometoursandotherstuff · 20 days

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Welcome to what the ornate decor of wealth looks like when it gets dated. It's unchanged since 1986 when the mansion in Palos Verdes Estates, CA was built. It has 9bds, 18ba, $8.9M. And, it's under contract. The exterior is so beautiful, but it needs a little oomph inside.

Very elaborate entrance hall with teal Greek columns.

On the other side of the stairs there's what looks like a hotel reception desk.

The sitting room needs a refresh. This home has huge fireplaces, but the decor and carpeting look tired and dusty. They'll be taking their furniture and I would freshen this room with new paint.

In the lounge there's a very large fireplace and the largest beams on an octagon coffered ceiling I've ever seen. There's also a bar. I think that those round disks in the floor are plugs, so I would place my furniture accordingly.

I wonder if the new owners plan to spend some more millions on updating the place.

The kitchen is gigantic and has carved cabinet fronts plus brown Victorian tin between the coffered beams.

There are 2 very large islands and built-in glass china cabinets. The countertops are tile.

The breakfast room has a fireplace, built-in cabinet and a painted sky ceiling.

I don't care for the pool room's decor. I would make it more man cave and ditch the pink.

Ballroom?

Powder room is interesting.

The primary bedroom is very large and so is the fireplace.

Look at how high that ceiling goes in this room.

Check out this en-suite. A maroon tub and sink.

I think that this bedroom has an outdoor theme. The wallpaper is like simulated lattice and the fireplace looks moldy, even though it's just a paint effect.

In the en-suite the sink vanity has a faux marble finish.

We're back downstairs in Cafe Montmer (or is it Mont Mer?).

This must be a game room or rec room.

The Cafe Mont Mer guest bath and sauna.

Handball court?

The pool and patio.

The grounds are beautiful.

Also a tennis court.

The gated 1.24 acre lot has a view of the Bluff Cove which is practically across the street.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1804-Via-Visalia-Palos-Verdes-Estates-CA-90274/21342903_zpid/?

#mansions #houses #house tours #home tour

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youghvaudough · 8 days

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Wind Breaker characters have a theme to their names, a thread, part 3:

we will discuss Noroshi, a group that appears later in the manga, so, spoilers under the divide, click with discretion!

(part 1: Bōfūrin and part 2: Shishitoren)

Noroshi / 烽

the group antithesis to Bōfūrin is aptly named signal fire. with a fire radical / 火字旁, their name easily invokes the fire imagery that Endō frequently quotes

as we have established, Bōfūrin is associated with trees/plants, so it is unsurprising that a group that broke from them and wants to destroy their ideals would want to set fire to them

interestingly enough, the leader of noroshi and his second-in-command (and biggest fan) have both wood and fire in their last names:

焚石矢 • Takiishi Chika: 焚 / to burn (with fire)

the kanji 焚 is literally made up of 林 (two wood/木 side by side, "forest/trees") on top and 火 ("fire") below it,, very straightforward

棪堂哉真斗 • Endō Yamato: 棪 / (archaically) a red fruit of a tree that looks like crabapples

the kanji 棪 is made up of 木 (wood radical) and 炎 (two fire/火 stacked on top of each other, "flames"),, again, very straight(?)forward

other named members of noroshi:

they have elements of wood in their last names, likely a leftover from their previous association with Fūrin, but they are specifically wooden tools instead of living trees:

杓子千宙 · Banjo Kanon: 杓 / wooden ladle

(he looks like scaramouche from genshin i say this and run tf away so fast)

盤杖奏音 · Shakushi Chihiro: 杖 / (wooden) walking stick

樽味清太郎 · Tarumi Seitaro: 樽 / wooden barrel (for alcohol/soy sauce, etc.)

柱尾修士 · Hashirao Shuji: 柱 / (wooden) column, pillar

(yup the same kanji 柱/Hashira that's used in Demon Slayer; also this is why i kept calling the hashiras "pillars" and had to explain myself when talking about KNY with my very confused English-speaking friends)

梳地弦治 · Sugichi Genji: 梳 / (wooden) comb

(he's weirdly Grease coded makes sense he has "comb" in his last name lmao)

that's what i got so far! hope you found this interesting. ty for reading if you got this far!!

#wind breaker #wind breaker nii satoru #nii satoru #wind breaker manga #noroshi #noroshi wind breaker #endo yamato #takiishi chika #chika takiishi #yamato endo #language stuff #japanese language #wind breaker anime #wind breaker deepdive #yovo yaps #wind breaker spoilers

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the-steambird · 6 months

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[ 011223 EDITION ]

GENSHINBLR — NOVEMBER, 2023 EDITORIAL

EXTRA! EXTRA! Over here, dear reader! As we enter the twelfth month of the year, read up on what’s happened this past month of November on Genshin Tumblr!

From your Editors: Crow and Ely.

COLLECTIVES — November Events !

TRENDING! || From Journalist @meidnightrain

1989 Event — 21 songs to 21 fics with the Genshin characters; A celebration to the release of Taylor Swift’s 1989 album, with fluff, angst, and hurt / comfort galore! Our journalist Meisha takes us through the re-recorded album with various Genshin characters X GN! Reader ranging from Aether, to Furina, and many more in between!

NEWS FLASH! || From Editor @yuellii

Fontaine : Dark Blood — A supernatural-themed event to continue off the spirit of Halloween in November; Dark Blood follows three separate one shots of vampire Neuvillette, werewolf Wriothesley, and puppet Lyney X GN! Reader. Our editor Ely executes horror through her writing, so readers, please heed her warnings carefully in each fic!

COLUMN — Individual Spotlight !

LET TWO EYES BE UNDECEIVED, Lyney / By Editor @rainswept

Summary from the editor: Growing up with you by his side, falsities were always something Lyney could see through. He preferred not to use them, not for a long time — but once you were gone and he and Lynette were left without someone to do the group’s dirty work, he forced himself to inherit the way of living you left behind.

“So excited for this one! Editor Crow’s been showing me their progress—honestly such a must-read for Lyney fans when it comes out, teehee.” — Editor Ely.

YOU’RE SO RED, ARE YOU OKAY?, Furina / By Journalist @definitelynotaneulasimp

A comedic review by Journalist Henry, in which the Archon of Hydro attempts at a date, but all goes wrong when she develops a terrible case of hiccups. Rumor has it: This fic is a part of Henry’s 1.5k Followers Event!

Want more Genshin women content? Definitely check out Henry’s own blog for characters like Ei, Navia, and more!

GOODNIGHT, Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @strawberrylabs

Did you know: Lyney, Freminet, Kazuha, Venti, Cyno and Childe have voice lines about you, dear reader?! If you’re having trouble falling asleep, hear what these characters have to say all about you!

A SIMPLE MISSION, Neuvillette / By Journalist @alaboadoa

Rumor has it: The Duke and the Iudex were caught whispering privately about you?! Read as Journalist Soph gossips all the juicy details about their conversation—it seems Monsieur Neuvillette might have a crush on you!

Just recently released: Journalist Soph also just recently released a new entry for Ayato, “INK TO PAPER.” Both of these works are featured in her 1k milestone event!

ONE CHANCE (PT.2), Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @ayaboba

“You give them one chance. How do they use it?” Journalist Anya returns with Kazuha, Lyney, Wanderer, and Zhongli—all who have just one last chance with you. Be sure to also check our her part one of this entry with Alhaitham, Diluc, Neuvillette, and Wriothesley, linked in her entry!

WHEN THEY LOSE YOU, Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @yrbladie

Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya, Neuvillette, Zhongli — ever in the mood for angst and no comfort? Then Journalist Naeris delivered us painful excepts on five different Genshin men and how they act after ( spoiler! ) losing you.

With Journalist Naeris also being on the rise and joining the writing train, be sure to check out all the other works she has published this month, as well!

FEATURE — The Editors’ Favorites !

YOUR SHADOW UNDER THE ILLUSORY MOON., Lyney / By Journalist @dulcesiabits

“this piece genuinely moved me. journalist liya’s writing is beautiful, and out of hundreds — maybe even thousands — of works that i have read, this has remained my favorite. it had me hanging on every word and i could genuinely feel the emotion put into it — her word choices and the way she conveys the scenes are profound in a way i cannot hope to describe. the ties and parallels part one has with PART TWO are so smart, too. hands down the most immersive and touching writing i’ve ever had the pleasure to read.” — Editor Crow.

JEALOUS-!, Ayato / By Journalist @jinxlixir

“LOVED this one! Takes place in a modern school AU with Ayato as the student council prez, and reader as his vice prez! The concept is every hopeful cliché, and Journalist Jinx did an amazing job characterizing Ayato so well—this one definitely stayed in my head for a while!”

“Not to mention: This little snippet is a continued concept of Jinx’s OTHER AYATO PIECE, one that’s much longer and written excellently!! I was practically squealing the whole time I read it… Ignore my tags if you decide to scroll through the notes.” — Editor Ely.

THE-STEAMBIRD is a Genshinblr Newspaper that posts news on the latest fanfiction and fanart! Editorials are published on the 1st day of every month, compiling your favorite works, featuring sections for journalists (writers) and photographers (artists).

Every month, from the 2nd-24th, we are in the nomination process. Writers and artists can nominate works they would like to see featured on The-Steambird for the month using our form!

#🗞️ — ꒰ news ! ꒱#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #lyney x reader #ayato x reader #furina x reader

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digi-lov · 18 days

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Digimon Liberator Chapter 2-1 [Out of Control]

Official Website | GlobalComix | Webtoon

Again spoilers start under the cut!

Chapter 2 of Liberator is out! I had a lot of fun reading it, but it did feel shorter than the last Chapter. Would have loved to read more! Again, the artwork is amazing! There is not much to say without getting specific, as the story didn't move too much further. Its just fun to read. I love Digimon! The balance of the battle pacing, as in the parts they summarize and the ones we se play out in more detail, feels good to me and keeps it from feeling too dragged out!

Next week we get the first chapter of the Liberator Web Novel, and then the web Comic returns the following week!

Now more detail!

I really love Pteromon! Chapter one already alluded to it (first picture below), but the continuous focus on its gem really has me intrigued! It appears to be able to control the game to an extend?

Also thought Pteromon talking through the D-Storage was nice! This way it's still "present" as a character, separate from the Card Battle Digimon. I hope this is not unique to Pteromon, and Shoemon (and other partners) will also be able to communicate during battles like this.

The Digimon also just look great! I don't know what to say, Digimon are so cool! They look amazing!

Something I wanna point out though in terms of game rules, the comic takes some liberties (HAH) in this chapter and the first.

In the real game, a turn starts at 0 Memory, not 3. (A common first turn for example could go a free hatch in the breeding area, then hopefully a 0 memory evolution from the baby to a Lv3 Digimon, and then potentially evolving that to a Lv4, or playing a Lv3 in the Battle field, moving the memory counter to the oppontents side.) Shoto also attacks with his Muchomon the turn it was played in Chapter 1, despite the card in question usually not having the abilitx <Rush>.

This appears to be special rules for this "Situational Battle". Here is an excerpt from last weeks Column about NPCs, the section about special Battles:

- Starting Digimon This special rule involves having a Digimon already in the battle area at the start. In some of these battles the memory gauge will not start at 0 and may begin on either the player's side or the NPC's. Furthermore, the starting Digimon might have abilities not typically found on standard cards, such as <Rush> or <Jamming>. These are among the most challenging rules in Conditional Battles.

(Read the Columns here if you haven't already!)

These could explain the "rule breaking". Though some of those instances were in the battle between Arisa and Shoto, the "Friendly Battle Mode" of the game could possibly also have custom or customizable rules.

We also just got a new card reveal from the EX7 Liberator set, featuring the girl and Ghostmon with our heroes! This, and her prominent placement in the promotional artwork make me wonder if she'll join them as part of the main cast!

Vortex Resonance EX7-074 by Takase from EX-07 Theme Booster Digimon Liberator

I also thought the little cameo of Yuuki and Impmon was cute!

We already know the name of Saikiyo/Winr, the character with the FunBeemon, and the character with the Yukidarumon appears to be tha same as one featured on promotional artwork for the novel. I wonder if they'll be friends with Yuuki too, like Winr.

#digimon #digimon tcg #digimon card game #digica #digisafe #デジカ #Digimon Liberator #lov reads liberator #web comic

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 7 months

Text

Nightfall (3)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: Bickering, spanking, biting, consumption of blood, oral (M receiving), implication of dark themes (such as the buying/selling of humans for blood), reader goes undercover as Billy's 'pet'.

A/N: Overall, the themes are a little darker than I tend to write. I'll try my best to be as honest as possible with the warnings.

You shove him back, hand wrapping around his throat as if you could ever conceive of doing any real damage to him. His expression is blank, eyes pinned calmly on you.

"You filthy fucking bloodsucker." You hiss out through your teeth, contemplating the actions it would take to bury a stake into his heart.

"Keep talking. Makes me hard." He sneers.

You almost consider spitting in his face. He'd had the nerve to describe exactly how he'd buried his hand into Ethan's chest not a minute after you'd driven away from him last night.

"He was my friend." You grit out, hand tightening on the column of his throat, you reach for the dull knife on the coffee table beside you, bringing it up to his neck.

"Planning to tickle me with that?" He taunts as you shove him further back, until your full weight is propped onto the hand pressed around his neck, your thigh pressed right between his, forcing you to straddle his leg.

Unbelievably, you feel his hand grip your hips, holding you securely in place as if he wants you as close to him as possible.

"I can do some real damage with this." You warn, voice low and enraged, trailing the knife slowly down the column of his throat, "Don't you know dull knives hurt more?"

His lips part, his chest drops a little as if the breath in his lungs has escaped him.

"The only thing hurting me," he whispers, "Is that you're not naked."

You take the time to press the tip of the dull knife into his skin. It would take a lot more force to puncture his neck, but doing so meant you could shred his throat easily. You wonder if that would even slow him down.

Your mouth curls in disgust, pulling away from him and sliding off his body quickly. You ignore the little wet spot your cunt has left behind on his pants, still being dressed in just his shirt.

There’s a tense moment of silence, the smell of delicious chinese food in the air- he’d ordered it for you while you were asleep so that there would be food available for you not long after waking. You’d only been a few bites in when you’d asked about the last time he’d fed, and he’d revealed to you what you’d already known was true, that he’d left Ethan’s body in a dumpster, missing a heart.

“You’re sick.” You whisper, facing away from him. Ethan had been trained alongside you, saved your life just as much as you’d saved his, and Billy had killed him because he’d dared to touch you.

You feel Billy behind you now, not worrying to think about how fast he’d just moved.

You huff when you feel his hands glide over either side of your hips, fingers twitching as he holds you firm.

You try your hardest to hate it, to feel disgusted by his cold hands on you, but all you feel is flutters, in your chest, your stomach, and somewhere lower.

“From the minute I put my hands on you, I knew you were mine.” He says. You squeeze your eyes shut, mentally rejecting the words.

“I know you can feel it, the way I do when I’m not near you,” he continues, drawing closer till his voice is just in your ear, “Like there’s no air in the room, unless you’re here.”

“You’re deranged.” You gasp out, feeling his hands tighten on your hips.

“You call that boy your friend, but you forget that I saw the whole thing. You didn’t want him touching you, and he did anyway. Is that not a good enough reason to tear his heart out of his chest?”

“He touched me. Not you. It was my situation to handle.” You retort.

He’s silent for a long moment.

“You’re right. I let my anger get the best of me.”

“Thank you.”

He pulls you back suddenly, till you’re pressed against his front securely, his nose running gently against your neck, one of his hands rise to tug your shirt collar down, till his face is pressed to the scar of his bite on your shoulder.

“Don’t mishear me. I’m not saying I’m sorry. Believe it or not, but I’ve been in that position, and I guarantee you, that if it’s not you, it’s someone else.”

You feel him kiss your scar, tingles spreading over your body. You’re deep in your own thoughts, thinking about his words.

“You’ve been in that position?” You echo his words, mind fuzzy with his attention.

“Mhm,” He hums, open mouthed kisses roaming your neck, “Wasn’t as strong as you either. It’s why I’ll always stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.”

You suck in a deep breath.

“But you’re a vampire.”

He spins you around, arms gripping your shoulder, eyebrows pulled together.

“You’re still thinking like that?” He utters in disbelief.

“Well, you haven’t really given me anything else to work with.”

He huffs, taking your hands in his and pulling you back to the couch.

“Okay, come, let me explain.”

You follow easily, and when you try to sit beside him, he eagerly pulls you into his lap. You huff, rolling your eyes as you try not to grind your wet centre against his thigh. He watches you, as if he can hear every thought.

“Believe it or not, vampires are very much like people. There are good, and there are bad.”

When you open your mouth to voice your opinion, he grabs the back of your head quickly, pulling you into him to lay a scalding kiss against your lips. His body might be cool to the touch, but he makes you sizzle anyway.

Heavens, he kisses like sin, plump lips owning whatever parts of yourself were still unclaimed, now his fully.

“Why don’t you let me finish, and then you can ask your questions.” He suggests, forehead pressed to yours.

A smarter side of you would argue, protesting his need to feed you what was most likely a lie.

You swallow, nodding your head hesitantly, feeling your body heat up with the memory of the things he'd done to you last night.

You look away from him, trying to get your thoughts together.

"We don't have to, I can always just lay you back right here and lick you to my heart's content."

You groan, clenching around nothing, acutely aware that being this close to him is making your head spin.

"Shut up and talk, Billy." You say with a pained hint in your voice.

He raises his eyebrows, his lips pulling into a slow grin. Thankfully he doesn't comment on your contrasting words.

"Okay, so as I was saying, from a moral perspective, vampires aren't that much different compared to humans. Realistically, if we killed someone every time we fed, more people would know about us."

"That's still a parasitic existence."

"The next time you interrupt I'm going to spank you."

You groan, clenching around nothing for a second time.

He explains it to you like you're a child, carefully arguing that the creatures of the night weren't all monsters, that they were a still budding society trying to figure out the logistics of existing.

"You sound like children." You interject.

Billy doesn't hesitate to draw his hand back and slap your thigh, watching you hiss in pain, that then quietly bleeds into pleasure, to your embarrassment.

"For most of human history, the number of vampires have only been in the hundreds. Now, we might have hit only a couple of thousand. The number of people that humans have killed vastly outweighs the number of vampires that exist and you still want to accuse us? Can't you see that the way you've been taught to think about us is flawed?"

You huff.

"Why is it so important that I believe what you say?" You ask, and it earns you another loud smack to the curve of your ass. You shut your eyes for a moment to fight the urge to rut your hips on his thigh.

"I'm trying to show you who the real monsters are. The ones that hide in the shadows and pull the strings, the ones that sell their own kind to the highest bidder of ours. These are people you should be hunting, little girl, not the fledglings that want to dance in clubs and feed from unsuspecting humans."

You open your eyes, blinking at him.

"You're saying there's something bigger at play?"

His hand comes down on your other asscheek. He grins when you glare at him.

"Yes. Your organisation trained you to kill the first vampire you see, making us all out to be monsters, but it's just not that simple. I can show the real monsters if you want, and let you-"

He cuts off, and after a second, he grins at you.

You look at him quizzically.

"You're so wet, I can feel it soaking through my jeans."

A low groan of annoyance leaves you, and you raise your hips, in an attempt to get off of him.

He’s not having it, gripping your hips firmly and pulling you back onto his thigh. When you struggle, his arms wrap around you, bringing you even closer, one hand settling low on your back, and then tugging your shirt up to grip your ass tightly. He holds you in place till you find that you are unable to even move an inch.

You study him intently as heat flushes through your system, eyes tracing the scars that line his face.

His eyes are dark, decisive, your eyes flit down to his lips, the sweet curve of them making your tongue feel heavy in your mouth. The shape of his beard urging you to rub yourself against him, the memory of his mouth between your thighs coming to mind.

You let out a slow breath.

“As I was saying, I can show you the real monsters,” He says softly, the air growing charged between you, “And let you decide what you want for yourself.”

You could barely remember why you were even fighting him, the magnetism of his form was too strong for you to resist.

“I’ll think about it.” You whisper, tilting your head to the side, and leaning into him slowly.

At the very last moment before your lips touch, you pause.

“Wait.” You whisper, pulling back.

You feel his hands tighten around you.

“What?” He bites out, lips parted so you can see just the smallest hint of his fangs.

You try to ignore his snippy attitude, and resist rolling your eyes lest it get you into more trouble.

“The thing you said… about choosing mates? What’s that about?”

You watch his lips part, to take a slow breath in.

“It’s something vampires do. Sort of, like an imprint- a voluntary imprint.”

You blink at him, horror washing through your body.

“You- imprinted on me… willingly?” You try to draw away from him, and he resists your movement, hand tightening on your bare ass subtly.

It brings you back to where you are, half naked on his lap.

“Yes.” He grits out, “When I first tasted you, I claimed you as mine.”

You fight him harder now, pushing against his chest.

“Claimed me? Don’t I get a choice?”

Billy huffs.

“You came up to me in that club- or don’t you remember?” He says, and you can see the clear anger in his features.

“You didn’t even know me!” You protest, finally getting enough leverage to wiggle out of his lap and to a stand on shaky legs.

He grits his teeth, tilting his head and watching you move away from him.

“The imprint might be voluntary, but it doesn’t work unless we’re compatible.”

“You’re sick.” You respond quickly, not even thinking.

He closes his eyes slowly, rolls his neck. You worry for a moment that his need for you has just expired.

Would he kill you? If he didn’t get what he wanted from you?

You swallow, eyeing him steadily.

He stands, walking past you without a second glance.

“Eat. I’ll take you hunting tonight.”

“Wh- what if I want to leave?” You ask softly.

He stops at the doorway, looks down before turning his head to the side. You study the scar on his cheek.

“They’ll kill you if they catch you, just to get to me. And if they hurt you, I’ll scatter their body parts across the state.”

You gulp at the imagery.

It was more irritating to you that he was giving you space.

He’d gone from keeping you in his arms, to not touching you at all and it made you seethe with all the hatred you had for him.

You hadn’t left- because you knew your organisation, and you knew Billy was right. They’d try to kill you the second they found you, if only to prove a point. Especially now that you knew for sure that Ethan was dead.

You pause while applying your mascara, sucking in a deep breath. Someone had dropped off a small duffel bag of supplies for you at the door, and Billy had slid it into your hands, telling you to get ready, you’d be going out in an hour.

He’s checking his watch when you emerge from the bathroom, dressed in jeans that fit you surprisingly well and a baby pink crop top.

His eyes scour your frame, face stoic as he makes his assessment.

“Ready?” He asks.

You only nod.

The heat of the club was familiar to you, an abundance of bodies so close together in one small space, moving under the soft neon lights.

You’re following his large frame, trying to keep an eye on the olive shirt wrapped around his shoulders, fighting each dirty thought about him that crosses your mind.

He’d looked good, to your annoyance, and you were wondering how long it would take for him to touch you again.

The answer was not very long at all, because when the crowd gets too dense, he reaches behind, extending a hand for you to take.

His hand is rough in yours, cool to the touch, undead and owning it and you feel your heartbeat kick up at the casual way his hand grips yours.

You didn’t like him, definitely not.

You weren’t too distracted by him to notice some of the other vampires in the club. You catch them in your peripheral vision, eyeing you both up, no doubt your scent packing a metaphorical punch to anyone with an advanced sense of smell.

"Easy baby," Billy whispers into your ear, fully knowing that anyone could be listening in on your conversation, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down to the small of your back.

"We'll have our fun soon enough." He continues, his voice in your ear sending sharp waves of want down your spine.

If he notices your response to him, he doesn't show it, simply guiding you to an open seat at a secluded booth in the club.

He'd briefed you in the car on the way here, explaining that the objective was to be invited into the back rooms where the questionable conversations happened. All he’d been hoping for, was an idea of where the location for the next big meeting might be.

“The real shady conversations don’t happen in nightclubs, they happen in the back rooms of libraries or secluded five star restaurants that cater to our specific… diet.” Billy had explained.

That had made your stomach twist into knots at the idea that there really was something worse at play, made you want to do anything possible to put a dent in it.

He sits at the booth, and like you’d discussed in the car, you sit quietly beside him, body stirring with thoughts of what he’d said he’d do next.

“I’ll put you on my lap, I need them to think you’re my pretty pet. They’ll do anything to try to convince me to share you.”

When he pats his thigh, you do what you know he wants you to. You move slowly, crawling into his lap, straddling his hips.

It brings you face to face with him, and there’s something of a silent conversation going on between you.

Though his hands are on you, gripping your body tightly, and very inappropriately for anyone to see, there’s a distance to the expression on his face that stings.

You study his scars, his eyes closing when your noses brush.

You think about the imprint he’d confessed to. You wonder what it really meant, that maybe you weren’t at his mercy as much as you’d initially thought.

After a moment, you roll your hips against his, body igniting when you manage to feel hints of his thick erection through your layers of clothing.

He pins you with his red eyes.

It sends ripples of pleasure through you.

You didn’t know what you wanted, not even sure if it was him, with his sharp jawline and thick hair, and the scars that sit on his face, someone’s attempt at making him less beautiful gone awry.

All you knew, that in this moment, you were searching for a higher purpose, a reason for being in your current position that wasn’t just because of him. Because what kind of person would that make you? If you genuinely enjoyed being with him after the things he’s done?

After a long moment of looking into each other’s eyes, he takes a deep breath, gripping the back of your neck to bring you closer so that his lips brush your ear.

“I can smell how wet you are. Is that all for me?”

He’d know if you were lying anyway.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I need you.”

He hums, the sound goes down, all the way to your aching clit.

“If only you’d worn a skirt,” Billy continues, “I could have had my cock inside you from the minute we sat down.”

You don’t suppress your reaction, sighing in need, clenching hard around nothing.

Although this was just a performance, you realise it’s not so hard to actually act.

You pull back a little, so you can look down at his mouth. You clench again at the memory of sitting on his face.

His fingers tighten on the back of your neck, warning you that someone is approaching, your debauched act finally prompting someone to come near.

“Pardon me,” The feminine voice says- a vampire you realise- and you resist looking over at her, “but I couldn’t help but overhear your problem, and would like to extend an invitation to our basement lounge to you.”

Billy pauses, seeming to ponder her words, you attempt to ‘encourage’ him by leaning in to place kisses on the smooth column of his neck.

You feel his hand tighten on the back of your own neck imperceptibly.

“Private rooms?” He asks.

You both already know the answer before she says it.

“Not completely, but more private than this.” She says, no doubt pointing out the wide open area of the dancefloor where anyone could see the both of you.

“I’m not sure if I’m interested.” Billy responds, making sure he doesn’t look too eager to follow her.

You keep kissing his neck, running your tongue up to his earlobe before continuing your kisses, feeling the vibration as the woman slides in beside Billy.

You pause for a second, looking over at the woman, makeup done perfectly, brunette hair falling gracefully as she moves, before Billy turns your head away, a silent urge that as his pet, his conversation was none of your business.

He’d warned you about it before, that people would speak about you like you weren’t there and playing along was necessary. You could do that, you’d played hundreds of roles before when hunting, this was just another character.

The character you were playing right now, was an empty, aching little hole. Someone eager and willing to go along with anything her partner says as long as it made him happy and got her ache satiated at the end of the night. You’d pulled inspiration from your own life for this role.

“She smells so sweet.” The woman says, to Billy in a soft voice, “Surely you don’t want to enjoy her here out in the open where you can get interrupted.”

“And I’m sure that following you is going to have a price of its own.” Billy murmurs, and you squirm on his lap a little to give off an air of impatience.

Despite your aversion to him, you’re forced to admit to yourself that you enjoy sitting in his lap. This role of needy girl coming naturally to you, because you wanted, and you wanted and you wanted him to give.

“Honestly, I’d love a little taste.” The woman confesses.

“Hear that, pet?” Billy hums, fingers sliding into your hair to pull your head back so that your eyes meet his, “This one wants a taste. What do you think?”

You think she’d look nice with a stake buried in her chest.

You flutter your eyes, giving him the look of eager obedience.

“Whatever you want, sir.” You mumble.

Billy’s dark eyes give nothing away.

“Perhaps I can share a mouthful with you, but on my terms.” He says, and you smile as he continues to look into your eyes.

He’d also warned you that he might have to bite you at some point. He promised he wouldn’t let anyone else.

You trusted him. You could see it in his eyes, that maybe the idea of letting someone else touch you had been out of the question from the very start.

“We have a deal.” The woman says, standing easily, and waiting for Billy to follow.

You’re wobbly on your legs, too drunk on your own lust for him, the way he holds your hand, silently pulling you along.

You almost forget the real reason you were here, lost in wondering how he would take care of you later tonight if you’d let him.

On the way down, the woman introduces herself as Petra, Billy gives his name, and no one even mentions you. It makes you a little irritated, that you were being treated as that much of an object, but it didn’t really surprise you. They were vampires after all.

You don’t ask where you’re going, following easily, memorising every hallway and door, making a mental map in your head.

She guides you down a flight of stairs, so narrow that Billy’s shoulders brush the sides of either wall. At the bottom, is a short hallway that stops at an iron door.

Three sharp knocks, and the door cracks open.

You can feel the pulse of the music, emphasised by the lighting in the room, it’s like a dull thrumming, echoing the need inside of you, much slower and more erotic than whatever is playing in the club upstairs.

Inside is like a large cavern, the walls give off an impression of being somewhere underground, with rough rock walls and lighting fixtures jutting out.

The room is filled with secluded booths, sheer drapes to hide the bodies within, the low light accentuating the writhing figures of people dancing inside, no doubt putting on a show for their partners.

“Nice place.” Billy says, he doesn’t scan the area like you do, using senses beyond your comprehension to make his observations. He gives six squeezes to your hand- one per vampire in the room.

Six, if you had to fight your way out, things would be a little complicated.

Billy slides into the booth easily, his fingers still laced with yours, guiding you. When he sits, you settle beside him. Almost instantly, his hands are on your hips, pulling you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

You look down, feeling a little vulnerable in this position, arousal settling warmly in the spot between your legs.

“She smells divine,” Petra hums, interrupting your debauched thoughts, sitting in the booth at a respectful distance away, “You promised me a taste.” She reminds him.

“Of course.” Billy says, but when she inches toward you, he raises his hand to stop her from moving any closer.

His hand smooths over the top of your head, your eyelids fluttering at his attempt to calm you, he grips your chin gently, tilting your head to the side.

You close your eyes, your neck tingles, your mind preparing itself for the pain of it.

There’s no fear, just acceptance. You’re almost eager, from the last time he promised he’d bite you.

He takes a deep breath at the crook of your neck, hands wandering to your backside to keep you still.

You try to relax your body as much as possible, knowing that resistance made it hurt more.

His tongue glides over your neck, and then his fangs press against your skin.

Billy somehow manages to find a way to be gentle about it, he presses in fast, keeping steady as his fangs penetrate your neck.

Delight floods your system for a moment, sparking through your body from where his mouth is latched to your neck. You can’t help the small hum of surprise that leaves your throat. Surely, bites weren’t supposed to feel this good?

It pinches next, and then it stings. You close your eyes and breathe through it, experiencing the pain, letting it move through every cell of your body.

Then, the throbbing begins.

Your neck pulses, as if your body’s suddenly noticed that it’s been breached, and is trying to process the intrusion.

You whimper in pain when he raises his head, freeing his teeth from your skin, the most painful part in your opinion.

His mouth remains latched to your neck, you feel him take one big mouthful of your blood, and swallows. His grip tightens on your ass and you can only imagine what you taste like to him. He only pulls away after he takes a second mouthful.

You watch, peeking through your closed eyelids, as he beckons Petra closer, his fingers under her chin as he seals his mouth to hers.

Something ugly rears its head inside of you. An anger that wasn’t there before, burning as you watch their lips lock, as he shares your blood with her.

She moans into his mouth, pressing forward, and you watch, with blood trickling from your open wound, as she glides her tongue into his mouth.

All you can feel is hate. When he finally pulls away after what felt like hours of watching them kiss, she chases his mouth, but he braces one arm on her shoulder to stop her.

You couldn’t figure out why you were so upset, it wasn’t like… like you wanted him. Right?

“I need more.” She says, leaning in, now red eyes flitting to you, and to the blood dripping slowly from your neck.

Billy keeps her at bay, glancing at you for a moment.

“Pet,” he says easily, moving his hand off your ass and fishing in his pocket for a hankerchief to present to you, “Why don’t you put some pressure on that for me.” He inclines his head at your wound.

You nod, taking the soft white material, and pressing down to stop the bleeding.

“Please,” Petra begs again, “She’s delicious, you need to bring her to an auction we’re having next week. You have no idea how much she’s worth.”

His eyes are dark when he glances at you, seemingly deep in thought.

“I really could use some more blood, I can’t feed from her all the time.”

She jumps at Billy’s admittance.

“Exactly, you could get ten bodies with the amount of cash you’d get for her.”

When she leans in further, Billy’s hand drifts to wrap itself around her throat.

You can see that she’s too taken with your blood to focus properly, her eyes are glued to your neck despite the hold Billy has her in.

“Where is this auction?” Billy hums, with a tilt of his head. When she doesn’t immediately respond, trying to fight to keep the secret for as long as possible, you entice her by pulling the piece of fabric off your wound.

You’ve long since stopped bleeding, but the cloth has enough of your blood on it to loosen her lips easily.

She speaks the time and place in a very soft breath, that not even you can hear, all you can see from the corner of your eyes are her lips moving, and after a moment, Billy nods in understanding.

“I’ll think about it. Now leave. You promised me privacy and you’ve already had your taste.” He pushes her away, releasing the grip on her throat.

She catches herself as she falls back, and with a sour look, she backs off, leaving you alone with each other.

Did you have to kiss her? You immediately want to ask, but with the knowledge that anyone can hear your conversation, you can only roll your eyes at him, and lean away.

You know that technically, you’re supposed to be locked into an intimate embrace with him, but you can’t bear the thought of kissing him after watching him kiss someone else.

You needed to find a way to make this believable on your own terms, and you also didn’t want to actually fuck him either. You’d had enough of being vulnerable for the night.

Without thinking too much about it, you reach for the button on his jeans.

His hands reach to stop you, a silent exchange passing between you. He raises his eyebrows in a 'What are you doing?' type of way.

You both knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that you couldn’t very well just leave after getting the information you wanted, it would look too suspicious. Something had to be done, and this is what you’d decided on.

You bite down on your bottom lip, deep in thought, watching his eyes drift down to your mouth, and when you reach to undo his pants again, he doesn’t stop you.

You shuffle back, tugging at his jeans and working his boxers down until his cock is exposed to you.

He's almost at full mast, and his indecent exposure and the implications of that succeeds in bringing him to full hardness.

You feel something twist inside of you, a pleasure racing through your body at just the sight of him.

You wanted to do this, for yourself as much as for him.

Shuffling back, you keep your eyes on his, slipping easily onto your knees between his parted legs.

When your knees hit the ground, you watch his eyes flash red momentarily.

There’s nothing to be said between you. You can’t convey to him that you’re only doing this because any of the alternatives mean opening up to him, and that’s the last thing you feel like doing right now.

Right now, all you want to do is take from him.

So instead, you lean forward, and wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

His cock is so fucking good you have to fight the moans that rise so easily within you.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning forward even more, tongue roaming over his tip.

You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you reward the sound by taking him deeper.

It feels so right to have him in your mouth, heavy against your tongue, the head of his cock is smooth, and you're intrigued by the sensation.

You reach for his hand, the one that's got a death grip on the soft cushion beside your head. He releases the couch on your insistence, and you encourage his hand to grip the back of your head.

He grunts out what you think is an expletive, and you pause, raising your head to look at him.

His eyes are dark, the scars on his face look downright devilish in the low light, and you want him to use you for his pleasure, so that you don’t have to feel bad about wanting.

You can tell he’s hesitant, for the very first time you see him pause in his pursuit of you, dark eyes unsure, that is, until you begin to lick gently at his tip.

Teasing him with small touches of your tongue, you watch the darkness grow and grow in his eyes, until he finally takes control- gripping the back of your head harshly.

Your mouth falls open at the sensation, obedient to whatever he wills. You move easily as he pulls your mouth back onto his cock.

He takes it slow at first, guiding the movement of your head up and down on his cock, pushing you down a little deeper each time.

You suck a little- because for all the control he has- you’re in charge here.

“That’s a good girl.” He hums lowly, guiding your head. You hum in response.

It feels good to give him this, feel him filling your mouth so rhythmically, your cunt weeping for the attention he gives your mouth.

You push farther than his hands guide, taking him to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t prepared for the intrusion, and resists, forcing you to pull away with a gasp.

Tears in your eyes, you look up at him in apology.

His lips are parted, licking at his bottom lip, he grips your hair harshly, and pulls your head up.

You grunt, scalp tingling for a moment as he pulls your body taut between his legs, leaning down until his lips are pressed to your ear.

“You have no fucking idea what I want to do to you, little girl.” He whispers in your ear.

You swallow, cunt squeezing around nothing.

You wanted to hate him.

You wanted him to use you however he wanted.

You don’t say anything, and when he pulls back to look at you, you make sure he can see the fire in your eyes.

All he does is smirk, and pull your head back down to his cock.

This time, he’s rougher with his motions, guiding your head faster, till your jaw begins to ache but you refuse to give up, wanting to taste his cum, the way he tasted your blood, to have a part of him, just like he had a part of you.

His hands tighten in your hair, a warning, you suck rhythmically, using your tongue to stroke the underside of his cock.

You hear his breath catch, before he’s pushing you down on his cock. You squeeze your eyes shut as he fills your mouth with salty cum, his cock pulsing against your tongue, and you do your best to take everything he has to give.

You don’t swallow immediately, pulling your head off of his cock, you look up at him, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out to show him the evidence of his release.

His eyes flash red as he watches you swallow his cum, appreciating the salty taste of him, before opening your mouth again to show him that it’s all gone.

You breathe deeply, gazing at each other for a long moment. His hand slips from the back of your head, cups your cheek gently.

“I can smell how wet you are. Let’s go home. The things I want to do to you I can’t do here.” Billy says softly, and you nod, getting out of his way so that he can stand and tuck his cock back into his pants.

When he’s done, he extends a hand to you, which you take easily, rising to a stand.

When he leans in to kiss you, you turn your head to the side to avoid his lips, still upset at seeing him kiss another.

He pulls away, a stony expression on his face as he guides you out of the secluded booth.

You grab the handkerchief with your blood on it, tucking it into your back pocket, making sure there’s no evidence of your blood left behind.

Billy nods at Petra on his way out of the room, and you keep your eyes fixed to the floor like the pet you’re supposed to be.

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