#i was like girl give me a minute… i’m too busy losing my mind at daniils dumb ass

[lesbianpegbar]

the tonal whiplash of watching 5’2” daniil dankovsky getting his gay ass pummeled into the ground and then immediately having a serious cutscene of military occupation was unrivaled

[folkwhoredoll]

soothing touch - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: after a tiresome week, your boyfriend knows just how to help

word count: 2.1k

warnings/tags: smut! (f oral, unprotected sex, nipple play), soft bf!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever say this enough but thank you for your support! however i might be inactive for the next days or weeks because easter break is over :< but i promise to keep writing whenever i can <3 i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!

masterlist

+*:ꔫ:*﹤

“Baby, come lay with me.” You heard your boyfriend whine from the bed.

“Just a few more minutes, Rafey. I need to finish this essay, or I’ll lose my train of thought.” You replied without looking at him, eyes steady between your laptop screen and keyboard.

Rafe groaned, growing impatient after hearing you use the same excuse for the third time.

It had been over two hours since he laid on the bed and over two hours that you refused to join him. The past weeks have made you busy, considering you were a graduating student. There were deadlines here and there, you have experienced sleepless nights for the past few days, and coffee is probably the only liquid cursing through your veins.

Rafe knew it was coming and made sure to help in any way possible, but it doesn’t mean he was okay with it. He missed taking you out on dates and golfing sessions, but it has been almost a month since he was able to do so.

He came to your house a few hours ago and brought you snacks you felt incredibly grateful for. You welcomed and greeted him, then returned to your room to sit in front of your laptop.

“I’m sorry, babe. I promise I’ll just finish this essay, and then we can cuddle, okay?” You offered to him softly, feeling bad that you’d ignored him.

Rafe, who has a stern exterior towards other people, is always soft towards you. His eyes softened upon hearing your offer, wanting nothing more than for you two to spend the night together.

“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

You flashed him a smile, your fingers desperately working to finish your essay.

Around half an hour later, you were typing out the last sentence for your draft. You inhaled deeply and stretched your back before shutting down the computer, deciding that you would just do your revisions in the morning.

“Finally.” You heard Rafe’s voice, making you chuckle, and excitedly made your way to the bed where your boyfriend was adorably tucked in the covers. “Hi, baby.”

You crawled in his arms, feeling extremely relaxed now that you were out of your stiff chair. “Hi, Rafey.”

“What do you want to do now?” He asked you sweetly, letting you decide depending on how you were feeling.

You thought momentarily, looking at the time and realizing it was almost midnight. Yet, surprisingly, you didn’t feel an ounce of sleepiness.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I’m not sleepy yet. You?”

 “Nah. I’m not sleepy, too.” Rafe shook his head before an idea popped into his mind. “You want me to give you a massage?”

Without hesitation, you agreed, nodding your head quickly. “Yes, please. My back hurts so much.”

Rafe gave you a pitied look. “Aw, baby. I got you; go get ready.”

You positioned yourself on the bed, grabbing a pillow where you can rest your head on. You sat up for a while to remove the thin sweater that hugged your torso. Your bra followed after you skillfully removed the clasps on your back. The amount of times that Rafe had seen you naked has made you shameless in making such gestures in front of him.

Meanwhile, Rafe watched your actions as he positioned himself behind you, hungrily eyeing your bare back before reminding himself that he was supposed to help you relax.

“Lay down on your stomach, pretty girl.” He spoke.

You did as he asked, sighing relief when your front side made contact with your sheets.

Knowing your room like the back of his hand, Rafe grabbed a bottle of lavender oil from your bedside drawer. He squeezed out a small amount, only enough to cover your back. Once satisfied, he warmed up the oil by rubbing it between his palms before putting it on your skin.

You let out a soft moan at the contact; the minty feeling from the oil and the feeling of your boyfriend’s large hands on your back made you instantly relax.

Rafe continued to give you a massage until his hands were dry from the oil, giving your back continuous strokes while you were on the verge of sleeping.

Little do you know, your breathy sighs have awakened something in Rafe.

He cleared his throat after several minutes, leaning down to check if you were sleeping. After seeing your opened eyes, Rafe relaxed and gave you a smile. “You feeling better?”

You mumbled a ‘yes,’ groaning as you slowly turned around on your back. “Thank you, Rafe.”

Rafe replied nothing, instead just lowering his face to yours in order to press a kiss on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, making Rafe go crazy. He wanted nothing more than to go further but hesitated as he thought of your tired body.

Unexpectedly, you were the one who deepened the kiss, your hands subtly moving up to his hair.

“Baby…” Rafe gasped, pulling away slightly. “Are you not tired?”

“Not really.” You said honestly as you looked into his eyes. “Feels good, Rafe. Please.”

Your words were confirmation for Rafe, making him press his lips back to yours. You let out a gasp when your boyfriend’s lips went from your mouth to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin softly.

“Hey, no marks.” You reminded him, remembering the time that your parents almost fainted when they saw Rafe’s love marks on your neck and chest.

“Yes, ma’am.” He cheekily smiled.

Rafe’s attention was suddenly on your breasts. He already had easy access to them after you removed your top. You moaned in surprise when his lips wrapped around your left nipple, your back arching as you tried to catch your breath.

“Rafe.” You heaved when his mouth attached to your other nipple, his fingers now working simultaneously as he toyed with the other one. When he was satisfied with the attention that he gave to your breasts, he straightened up his posture, and you took the opportunity to start removing his shirt.

You quickly get rid of his shirt, throwing it sideways as you focus on his shorts.

“Someone’s excited.” He chuckled.

“It’s been a while.” You pouted.

“I know, sweetheart. We have a lot of time.” Rafe replied softly. He pecked your lips once before crouching down. “Lift your hips slightly, baby. Let me take this off of you.”

You obeyed, pushing yourself up from the bed to allow Rafe to pull down your shorts and underwear. You took a deep breath at the realization that you were fully exposed but paid no attention when you caught Rafe eyeing your pussy while licking his lips.

“Well, what do we have here?” He smirked, his right-hand landing gently on your thigh.

“Rafe…” You whined lowly, feeling frustrated as his fingers teased you by drawing random circles along your skin.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked innocently.

You groaned. “Stop teasing me.”

He smirked. Rafe loves nothing more than seeing you surrender to his touches. And right now, he’s enjoying the growing smell and wetness of your arousal.

Removing his hand from your thigh, he pressed a finger against your clit. You jolted forward; the pressure alone is enough to stimulate pleasure to your core. “Fuck.”

Rafe’s finger gently circled your clit, both his cock and smile becoming more prominent at the sight of you. He surprised you by pressing two fingers in, his thumb taking over your clit. He began pumping, enjoying your moans mixed with the sound of your wet folds.

“Fucking hell, Rafe. More.” You demanded through deep breaths, your chest rising and falling.

He didn’t respond, pulling out his fingers after a few moments. Your brows pinched together in confusion, looking at him as he brought his fingers to his mouth.

“You taste amazing, darling.” He smirked and watched as you stared at his lips. After licking his two fingers clean, he lifted his hands and brought his thumb to your face. “Open.”

Without hesitation, you opened your mouth and took his thumb in. You sucked, tasting yourself and letting out a moan while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck.” Rafe spoke, feeling his cock straining. “I was planning to go soft on you. But you seem more eager than I do.”

After you’re done licking his finger, he pulls down his trousers and underwear. Despite seeing him naked multiple times, you still can’t help but be amazed at his size, your thoughts growing wild with desire.

You watched as Rafe kneeled before you, his eyes on the same level as your folds. He pulled you nearer to him, your lower half almost hanging off the edge of the table as he wrapped your legs around his shoulder.

“You gotta keep quiet, baby. We don’t want to get caught by your parents, do we?”

Without any warning, Rafe pressed his face to your pussy, his tongue expertly slipping inside and sucking on your clit.

“Fuck!” You moaned aloud, instantly forgetting his words as you pressed your weight against the bookshelf behind you.

He slapped your thigh softly. “What did I just say?”

You ignored him, too focused on the pleasure that you’re feeling to control the sounds from your mouth. You squirmed against his lips, grinding your hips upwards to get more. Your boyfriend smiled proudly.

“Yes, yes, Rafe…. Shit.”

He pulled one of his hands away from you, lowering it to pump his manhood. His occasional moans caused vibrations throughout your body, your toes curling and your eyes shutting.

Rafe felt your legs shake, and he started to pull away. He needed you to cum, but not yet.

“W-what?” You asked desperately, almost whining at the loss of contact.

He gently shushed you, pushing himself up and lining his cock directly at your slits. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll finish you right here.”

He pushed himself into you inch by inch, your warm folds wrapping around him perfectly. Rafe groaned at the damp and tight feeling surrounding him, head falling back in pleasure as he settled perfectly within you.

You moaned once more, loudly this time as he started thrusting, his rhythm steady yet forceful. You repeatedly called his name, hands gripping the sheets around you as you shook in pleasure. Rafe looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, eyes filled with lust and pride every time his hips meet yours. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs forward, almost keeping them against your chest.

“That’s right, darling. Moan my name.” Sweat started to form on his forehead, his thrusts becoming harsher and quicker in desperate need. “C’mon, Y/n. Let me see you cum.”

“Rafe…” You cried, your cunt clenching and throbbing. The bed was creaking slowly, and you could only hope that your parents were currently deep in slumber.

The pleasure was overwhelming as Rafe focused on every part of you as much as possible. Both of you panting and covered in sweat, his hands working wonders on your clit and nipple while he perfectly filled your cunt.

“R-Rafe, I’m…”

“I know, baby. Cum with me. Come on, pretty girl.” He whispered closely in your ear, maintaining the speed of his thrusts as he rubbed your clit faster.

Your heart rate was increasing, and your body was shaking. But it was Rafe’s direct eye contact and sudden pinch on your clit that pushed you over the edge, eyes rolling at the back of your head as you released.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Rafe moaned at the sight, loving the feeling of your tight walls and warm release around his cock.

It wasn’t long until he pumped several more times before he gave in, releasing his juices inside of you with heavy breaths.

Neither of you moved for a while, still breathless and shaking.

Rafe pulled out of you slowly, making you whine. He cooed at you, pressing kisses on both of your cheeks. “Are you feeling better, baby?”

Unable to form words because you were still catching your breath, you just grinned and nodded, your hand rising to cup and stroke his cheek.

“Let’s get you ready for bed now, sweetheart.”

The rest of the night, you didn’t break any sweat. Rafe took charge of changing your clothes and sheets, even giving you a quick bath to refresh you.

On times like these, you thank the heavens for giving you a boyfriend like Rafe Cameron.

[vaaaaaiolet]

You accidentally throw a monkey wrench into supermodel Leon's Calvin Klein photoshoot, but you can't sweet-talk your way out of this one. Kennedy's got your tongue and your panties in a bunch.

Better hope you've got a fix up your sleeve.

f / m, slight nsfw, you just thirst over leon + you're REALLY awkward, fluff + romance, stupid one-liner attempts at humor + hunnigan mention!! I GIVE MYSELF THE ICK.

word count: 913 // read on ao3

a/n: @chesue00 made this GODLY ART. and i RAN INTO PEOPLE in PUBLIC looking at it because it got me so dizzy. i don't know what to DO WITH MYSELF 😭

find more drabbles in my collection: sketches for my sweetheart the drunk!

You’d passed all your English classes in college, but right now? It’d be a hell of a lot more useful to have taken a few in sign language.

“What’s wrong with her?” 

The camera crew’s never been able to perfect the art of the whisper. 

“Did she lose her voice or something?”

You fumble with the reflectors for the millionth time, bright material projecting your flushed face to high heaven on all three of the cameras’ viewfinders. 

There’s a really unfunny joke that starts like this: a photography intern walks into a bar.

Said bar happens to be supermodel Leon S. Kennedy’s back because you weren’t watching where you were going on the biggest day of your career, a Kennedy x Klein collab shoot starring the man you’d only been crushing on for, what, ever since you picked up your first fashion magazine? You’d left a sizeable smear of makeup on the pristine white of his T-shirt as a parting gift, and after that, you’d lost your ability to form words in shame. Mortifying, paralyzing shame.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

And as if in agreement, Leon’s agent bristles on the break couch behind you. 

He’s still in that stained shirt, by the way. Sipping thoughtfully from a bottle of water while his agent sounds off beside him, but the only thing on your mind is what you’d give to be on his drink’s business end. Condensation drips onto the coffee table when Leon sets it down, drop by tantalizing drop sliding down his fingers, ice melting in his palm that’s just big enough to grab a plush handful of your- 

His agent tears through your daydream, madder than a wet hen. ”There’s no time to order an exact replacement!”

“It’s just a shirt,” Leon chuckles, and you hear rolling thunder on the horizon. You’ve got it bad.

“It very clearly states in the Kennedy x Klein contract that we need a picture of you in a white T-shirt.”

“A tiny bit of lip gloss-” 

“An obvious stain!” the spectacled woman squawks. 

“Stain, whatever – just stop freaking that poor girl out, yeah?” 

Your ears perk up rabbit-style.

“Look at her, Ingrid,” Leon continues, and every cell of your body lights on fire because he has to be training his gunmetal eyes on right on you. “Poor thing hasn’t said a word since you started going off about that tiny mark. Turn around, sweetheart, just a moment.”

Who put your feet on a turntable? 

“See? Eyes bigger than the goddamn moon.”

And you just might faint, too. But you’ve got to fix this before you do. 

“Uhm, we…we could…” he nods when you stutter, patient as a saint, he’d talk you through it for sure, “take…the shirt…off?” 

A tilt of his handsome head. “Come again?”

You need to put your money where your mouth is. Even if the latter’s on strike right now. Pointing your chin back towards the set, you jerk your head for him to follow. Leon’s agent pinches the bridge of her nose, mumbling something about leaps of faith from chandeliers and not again, but the man in the stained shirt couldn’t seem to care less. His eyes gleam.

“Hands-on, then.” Leon cracks a grin, rising to his feet. “I’m all yours.” 

Leon is desire painted monochrome.

You nearly throw yourself over the table at the back of the shoot the minute Leon pops up on your monitor. The printer spits out picture after picture that couldn’t be safe for work in your wildest dreams, but here you are, getting paid to take softcore of Calvin Klein’s newest poster boy, and your jaw is about to make friends with the floor.  

You didn’t know eyes could talk before Leon Kennedy. 

In one shot, he’s gazing at you from the glossed page, bedroom blues sizing you up. He’s daring you. Drag your eyes down the page. Go on.

And oh, if the the journey doesn’t reveal the ridged muscles lining Leon’s stomach as he reaches to shuck the shirt off his shoulders. The stain is a forgotten memory replaced by a new one burned into your brain for the rest of eternity, and you’re not the talking about the cologne. You’re staring at the patterned Calvin Klein waistband of his boxers. Slung dangerously low over his hips, begging to be relieved of their duty, so close you could pull them off with your teeth. 

“Any closer and you’re gonna lick the page, doll.” 

And mess up his pretty face? You wouldn’t dream of it.

Leon laughs when you go ramrod straight. “Seriously. You did amazing with that shirt-pulling save,” he says. “I know it’s a little intimidating to work with Ingrid and my team, but you handled it like a champ.” 

He tugs the photo out from under your fingers, uncapping a nearby pen to scribble something onto its backside. His tongue pokes out when he writes. He’s the cutest Adonis you’ve ever seen when he hands it back. “I knew you could,” he adds.

And then all too soon, just as your own tongue regains feeling, Leon leaves amidst the flurry of post-production. Leaves is the polite way to put it; his agent practically hauls him out by the collar by the time you muster up the courage to wave goodbye. 

Really? After everything’s all done? 

Well, almost. You flip the photo to read his note.

Pretty eyes, pretty mouth too. Put that second one to use next time? :)

They do say practice makes perfect.

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[blackwomanwriter]

"Mine"

Read: Part I, Part II

It's been a minute, but I finally wrote something. And of course, I had to go back to this series because there is something about Thomas Shelby. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and let me know your favorite part. Happy Reading!

He entered quietly like he was on a mission. Although this one was unlike the ones he had performed during the war and after. No, this mission was different. Very different. Yet, Tommy performed it with the same intensity.

Eyes narrowed on the quiet interior, clocking each entry point and exit way, like a soldier, he assessed his environment. He hadn’t been in a house this small since his childhood. Even back then, the space had felt cluttered and cramped. Too noisy to think. Too busy to breathe. The stench of his father’s hangover in the air before it disappeared altogether.

He remembered talking Arthur out of trying to find their father. A man unworthy of carrying - no, sharing his surname. Tommy tensed his jaw, moving past the memory. Instead, he raised a brow at how devastatingly clean the entire place felt. Physically tidy, but clean in a way that made the house feel empty. Unlived. Unloved. Cold. The opposite of everything he thought of her. She was warm. Tender. Inviting.

Moving to the narrow staircase, he could hear the water running. The pipes pushing the water through the house. She was here. She was alive. She was avoiding him - again.

He hiked up the stairs, stepping one foot in front of the other. Like a soldier, he kept moving. He carried on with the task before him. His mind focused on the mission.

Opening the door quietly, Tommy leaned on the door frame - taking in the sight before him. Curved hips that were fuller since he had last seen her. A waist that tempted him to wrap his arms around her. It was now that he reached in his pocket for a cigarette.

“Jesus, Tommy,” she shrieked. The click of his lighter giving him away.

She rested a hand on her heart, shuddering as she closed her eyes.

Unbothered, he traced the stick along his bottom lip before lighting it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, as her breath steadied.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he stated. Gaze unchanged. Smoke filling the air.

“I’m in mourning,” she enunciated, grabbing a towel to cover herself. She didn’t bother hiding her frustrations as she shoved past him. She was angry. He liked her angry.

At first, when she didn’t answer his call, he had briefly worried that she was sad. Tearful over the sudden death of her husband, who the police found floating in the river after a night of drinking. His death ruled accidental according to the official report. A drunken man’s blunder. An unsurprising end of life. An expected death for a man who drank as much as her late husband did.

An easy lie to believe, but she knew the truth. The greatest mistake the dead man had made was marrying Thomas Shelby’s favorite whore. It was her mistake more than his. She knew what she was doing when she said yes. The risks she was taking by marrying while Tommy was off in America. Her moment of rebellion had cost a life.

Although, they had gotten past the letter. She hadn’t returned to him. She wanted to keep her promise. To stay married. To honor what was left of her vows. She wouldn’t work for him. She wouldn’t see him. The temptation of losing herself in him made her stay away. She had already ruined the sanctity of her marriage by sleeping with him in his office. She didn’t want to continue making a mockery of the words she vowed before God and man.

She was suddenly religious, which amused Tommy. He thought it was a game, but she clung on to every word spoken by the priest. At the funeral, she remembered his words at the wedding. How he had pressed upon her the importance of repentance. Before Thomas Shelby, she had been a good girl. Never told a lie. Prayed before bed. Devout daughter. Devoted sister. An upstanding and honorable member of her community. He had changed her. Corrupted her. Loved her. Destroyed her.

“It’s been weeks,” Tommy stated coolly.

She ignored him. Her hands focused on the cream she was applying to her skin. Smooth skin. Soft skin. Skin his lips remembered. The taste imprinted on his tongue. Tommy exhaled.

His patience was wearing thin. He loved her. She loved him. He figured out how to help her keep her promise and allow him to keep his. Her husband was dead, and she was free.

“I see you’re eating again,” he quipped, trying to stir a reaction out of her. She didn’t disappoint. He ducked as the bottle of cream nearly struck his head.

“I went from being a whore to being a widow.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a book.” Tommy shrugged then ducked again. This time, she threw a shoe.

“At least I can bargain my way into heaven as a whore,” she resolved, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Is that what your priest tells you?” He brought the cigarette back to his lips for another drag.

He knew. Of course, he knew. She wondered if he was having her followed again. How else would he know about her visits to the church. Her talks with the priest.

“My greatest sin is you,” she finished her thought.

Her words were meant to be cutting, but Tommy remained unbothered. His eyes stoic, jaw set as if he was watching a horse race. He brought his cigarette to his lip, letting it dangle as he neared her. 

She stood up, ready to shove past him again, but he grabbed her forearm. Her eyes flared up at him as she tried to loosen his grip, but he remained firm.

“You want to talk about sins, ey?” He whispered against her ear. “You married a man who picked a pint over his life. A man who stowed you away in a house he couldn’t bear to live in himself, while he stayed three doors down with his brother’s wife.”

She frowned, hearing him confirm a suspicion she wouldn’t allow herself to believe. When he stopped coming home, she told herself that he was drunk at a pub or sleeping his hangover off at his mother’s house.

“A man who lost his wages betting on fights.”

So that’s where all their money had gone, she thought. Her face didn’t flinch as Tommy confirmed another truth. Her late husband was just another man who had let her down. All the words she threw at Tommy about him being a good man were lies. He was just better at hiding his wrongs.

Tommy softened his grip on her hand, as he relayed the sin that he couldn’t forgive. The sin that forced him to intervene without thinking of the consequences. “A man who was willing to sell his wife to settle his debts.”

Her eyes widened then glazed over. The shred of innocence he once found in those warm brown irises was quickly disappearing. He cursed at himself for the letter, but it wasn’t just the letter. It was the months he left her wondering if he could ever love again. It was the voice that told him to push her away. She married the man because of him.

Tommy released her hand. There was a part of him that wished he hadn’t been so honest. Her hardened eyes told him just as much. The look on her face was one he had seen before in the women who dared to love him. When his darkness eventually shadowed their light. When his world swallowed them whole.

She reached for the cigarette hanging from his mouth. Taking a long drag, she exhaled. The smoke covering Tommy’s face.

“My sin was marrying the wrong man,” she concluded.

His thumb brushed her skin, remembering when her lips pressed against his in hunger. His lip bleeding as their need took precedence. Her lip bruised from his appetite. Even when he had her, he needed more. Tracing her lip, he gently placed the cigarette between his fingers then lifted it to his mouth. The first puff was for the memory. The second was for his patience.

“No, my god doesn’t care about sins.”

“I didn’t think you believed in,” sighing, she looked up, “anything.”

Tommy closed his eyes. His patience wearing on him again. “You’re moving out of this house. You’re coming back to work, and you’re going to answer when I call.”

“Of course, Mr. Shelby,” she answered.

His jaw ticked at the use of his surname. The smoke from his cigarette creating a haze over his eyes. “Don’t start.”

“Tell me what your god thinks about whores.”

“Everyone’s a whore,” he muttered, as he moved toward the door, already thinking of his next order of business. The kiss would have to wait.

“Is that what your wife thinks?”

Tommy stopped walking. Leaning his hand on the door frame, he closed his eyes. His nose flared. His annoyance growing with her disobedience. He seemed to attract women who were determined to do the opposite of what he asked.

“She confronted me. Told me to stay away,” she admitted, and in that second, he realized why she ignored him. She was no longer his secret. He made his affection too obvious.

“I’ll take care of it,” he firmly stated, leaving no room for further questions. Yet, she continued.

“Does she follow any of the other girls or is it just me?” She asked.

He wasn’t ready to admit that there weren’t any other girls. That there hadn’t been other girls for a while. From the moment he declared his love, Tommy had made himself hers - only hers.

“You love me, but there are others,” she whispered. “I love you, but all I do is think of them. To be with you, I have to worry about them. I have to wait to be yours.”

“Is that what you’re doing then - waiting?” He asked, closing the distance between them.

Her hand dropped to her middle and Tommy’s eyes followed. He stared, then frowned before bringing his gaze back to her. “How far along?”

Her eyes softened. The grief coloring every muscle in her face. Tommy closed his eyes. She was in mourning. He understood her words clearly now. It was moments like this that made him miss Polly. She would have known.

Tommy muttered something in his Romanian tongue as he sat on the bed. He stamped his cigarette out in silent rage. There was never an end. Death seemed to find him at every turn. It hunted him. Craved him.

His hands went to her robe. Slowly, he pulled the fabric, revealing her body. A body that had prepared itself to carry his child. A body that had nourished him back to life. His fingers moved to her belly, tracing the skin there. The soft, smooth skin.

He looked up at her and saw the tears she wouldn’t shed. How long had she held them in, unable to weep. Unable to speak. Unable to fully mourn. Wrapping his arms around her middle, he pulled her in and kissed the place his hands had touched. He tried to do what she had done for him; he tried to make it okay for her to feel.

“I’m fine, Tommy. It’s better this way,” she said, her voice cold and void of any emotion.

“When?” He whispered, knowing it was his, and yet wondering how he’d missed so much in so little time.

“It doesn’t matter,” she stiffened. “It’s gone now, and I need to move on.”

She gave him a second to make peace with the reality she had lived with for weeks. Then, she moved from his touch, closing her robe as she distanced herself. Loving him was painful enough without the added grief of their lost child.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she folded her arms, avoiding his gaze.

Tommy raised a brow, staring at her before glancing around the room. It was as cold as the rest of the house - bare of any details or remnants of her. Standing up, Tommy found a new mission. He moved past her in search of anything that made the four walls more of a home.

His hands traced the metal bed frame. His fingers trailing the linen and cloth. He opened windows and tapped on wooden walls. He inspected the little furniture in the room, unsatisfied with the results.

“Tommy,” she started to say as he pushed open a wardrobe, finding it empty.

She was leaving. She planned to leave London. She planned to leave him. The thought stung in Tommy’s mind as he opened drawer after empty drawer. His anger taking center stage.

“Tommy,” her voice raised with concern.

He shoved the empty wardrobe back, watching as it crashed against the wall.

“Stop,” she yelled, as he shoved the wardrobe again and again. His grief coloring his anger. His anger coloring his grief. Her heart jumped as the wooden drawers finally cracked under the pressure. The splitting wood overshadowing her screams as the wardrobe completely fell apart.

“Tommy,” she cried, rushing to stop him from breaking the wood further. “Stop.”

“Please,” she whispered. Her plea full of a love she couldn’t deny him.

He exhaled. The sound of his heightened breath taking all the space in the room. His anger taking all the air. Tommy closed his eyes. The familiar whispers creeping in his head, telling him to put out the fire. To walk over to the other side. To let go of this life. To finally rest.

She swallowed, unsure of what to tell him, and yet, she persisted. “My sister found work outside of London. She thought it’d be good for me…”

Tommy shook his head, looking up at the ceiling.

“I wanted to tell you,” she stopped, lowering her head. There was nothing to say.

He scoffed. “Tell me.”

It felt like deja vu to hear him utter those words to her again. To hear the same command. The same request he’d asked from her when she told him about the wedding. Yet, this time, there was nothing left to say.

She stared at the back of his head. Her fingers yearning to brush his hair or wrap themselves around him. Her lips longing to kiss the nape of his neck.

Closing her eyes, she confessed. “There’s no life for me here.”

“You’re not leaving.” He pushed back, ignoring her words. “You’re mine.”

“When?” She sighed. “When am I yours, Tommy?”

He lifted his head, staring at the wall. His mind moving a mile a minute. She couldn’t leave him. His heart wouldn’t allow it. His body would protest. His hunger was contained to her. His thoughts all went back to her. How many minutes until he can think of her? How many meetings until he can dream of her? He suffered without her to be with her. Every hour he was away was an hour he promised to give to her.

He was a selfish man, who wanted what he wanted. A man who endured wars and monsters disguised as men. A cursed man. A broken man. A suffering man. A man who didn’t deserve her, and yet, he wanted her. He needed her. She was the cigarette on his lips. The pain tablets in his pocket. The shirt on his back. The razor blade on his cap. She couldn’t leave him.

“When your wife is gone? When you’re fucking other women?” Her voice continued in the background, but Tommy was half-listening. “When you’re bored? When the nightmares come? When the work is done? When am I yours?” She asked again, although there was no anger in her question.

“When you married him, you were mine. Every time you put on his fucking ring; you were mine.” His brows furrowed as he reached into his side pocket for a cigarette. “When you moved into this house, you were mine. When you had my fucking child inside of you, you were mine.” Tommy sniffed, turning to face her. “From the moment you entered my office, you belonged to me.”

She stiffened, as she traced her empty ring finger. His crassness didn’t bother her as much as his refusal to listen. He disregarded her words, only focusing on what he wanted. It was why she didn’t want to tell him about the baby. He would have stuck her in a big house that he would never visit. Given her everything except the thing she wanted, which was him. But now that nightmare wasn’t even a reality because she’d lost their child. She'd lost a piece of him.

“Is that all it takes…” she started to argue, but words were pointless. Their arguments were pointless. They had a love that was cursed from inception.

In this life, he was promised to another. In the next, he would be reunited with another. In life and death, she had no place in Thomas Shelby’s life. Her love for him didn’t save their unborn child. It reminded her that their love had no place to grow. It was wilted, and no amount of money or prayer could save them.

“You’re not leaving,” Tommy declared, cornering her until she had no choice but to look up at him.  Her brown eyes sinking into him, full of a love he didn’t deserve.

“You made me a promise,” he whispered. His jaw tensing as he remembered that night in his office when he had made himself hers. When he had promised to live. To stop craving death. The gods had given him a second chance with her.

“Tommy,” she protested, but he continued.

“You gave me your word.” His lips brushed hers and her body shuddered. “You made promises to me. Promises I intend to collect.”

His hand slipped down to her robe, loosening the ties. His fingers marking a trail from her chest to her neck to her lips. “Promises you agreed to keep.”

She folded under his touch. Her head falling on his chest as she exhaled. Quick, short breaths that made Tommy pull her in closer.

“And what of your promises?” She grabbed his fingers before they could slip between her thighs.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, trying not to smirk. “Remind me again.”

Shaking her head, she moved from his hands. Her heart ached, but it would always ache whether she was with him or not. He was not wrong. It belonged to him. From the moment she entered his office, her heart had become his. Knowing he was promised to another, it still beat for him. It yearned for him. It acted without consequence.

Thou shall not commit adultery. A vow she’d broken within a month of knowing Thomas Shelby. But her heart didn’t care. It didn’t care about the commandments she broke. Her sins were plenty but her heart was full. Full of love for a man who couldn’t confess his love until she married another.

Turning away from him, she closed her robe. Her hand wanted to follow the trail he etched on her skin, but she didn’t. She could hear him lighting a cigarette. His eyes on her. His eyes undressing her. His eyes claiming her as his.

She wanted to run, but her heart wouldn’t let her. Instead, she willed herself to face him. Smoke in the air. His scent in every crevice of the cramped room. She inhaled and tried to tell him again. Her thoughts were on her lips, and yet, nothing.

Offering her his cigarette, Tommy stepped towards her. “Leaving London won’t cure you of me.”

She reached for the smoke. Grateful for the distraction. For the heat. For the vapors. For the way her lungs would expand and contract. For the cigarette they shared between them. His lips on her lips. Her lips on his.

“That priest of yours won’t help you either,” he added.

“What is the cure then?”

Tommy leaned into her. His hands on her waist, slowly moving her robe up past her knees then her thighs. “First, you have to stop running.”

“Running?” She asked, confused by his accusation.

“The wedding. The job. This house.” He counted. “And now these plans of leaving London.” His hands pushed the fabric of her robe from her skin, leaving her naked before him. “You mustn��t run.”

“And what if I do?” She questioned, not allowing her nudity to dissuade her.

Tommy brushed her cheek before taking the cigarette from her lips. “I’ll find you. Remind you of where you belong.”

“And where is it that I belong?” She asked. Her eyes gentle and pleading. 

He brought her hand to his chest, placing it where his heart lay. “Here. Right here.”

She swallowed her nerves, terrified of letting her heart speak. “Second?” She went back to his list.

“Second.” He took a drag, exhaling the smoke before he continued, “You must know, I get scared,” he admitted, and she finally understood why he’d written her that letter. Thomas Shelby was scared of loving her. The first woman he loved died in his arms because of a bullet meant for him. Love was something to fear, and he was terrified.

“Now, it’s unpleasant and it’s unkind. But when I am…”

“I’ll remind you,” she finished, “of where you belong.”

Tommy cupped her face, placing a kiss on her head. “Good.”

She closed her eyes. Her heart too fragile for Thomas Shelby’s confession. He hadn’t proposed, yet they were already exchanging vows.

“Last.” He leaned his head on hers. “And the most important.”

“Yes,” she breathlessly whispered.

Tommy’s finger traced her bottom lip before he kissed her. His lips hungry to taste her. Selfish in his desire - his consumption of her. He groaned when he felt her kiss him back. Her own need just as desperate as his. She moaned when their lips parted, disappointed by her body’s need for air.

“I promise to have you pregnant by spring.”

Her eyes lit up as she laughed for the first time in months. She chuckled, not taking him seriously. “Tommy.”

“A boy,” he declared, wrapping his arms around her middle. “He’ll have your eyes and my charm.”

She giggled, playfully hitting his chest as he picked her up and placed her on the bed. Her smile widening as she gazed at him. She was returning to herself - returning to him. Weeks of grief slowly thawing from her heart.

Tommy stamped out his cigarette before joining her with a kiss. His body on top of hers. His hands on either side of her head. His mind fixated on the softness of her skin.

“I’ll be back at work in the morning,” she whispered in between kisses.

“You won’t be working anymore.”

She pulled away from his kiss, frowning at him. “What are you on about, Tommy?”

He sighed, already knowing he was about to start another fight. “I won’t have you working with a child of mine inside of you.”

“What?”

“You’ll be carrying my son,” Tommy repeated.

Closing her eyes, she realized he was serious. Of course, he was serious. She wondered how long he’d been planning to get her pregnant again.

“I don’t deserve you,” Tommy kissed her lips. “But, I promised to give you a life worthy of everything you are.” He reminded her. “I promised to let you in my head. I promised to do more than just wait to die. I promised to live.”

She wanted to be angry with him, but he remembered. Every word. Every promise. Everything they had discussed in his office.

“I promised to keep you safe.”

“To make us safe,” she corrected.

He kissed her again. “There are no other girls,” Tommy confessed, reminding her of his other promise. Tommy Shelby was hers.

Grabbing his collar, she pulled him into a long kiss. “No more running,” she vowed.

Tommy smiled. “No more.” He pressed his lips on hers before adding, “You’re mine.”

This time, she didn’t argue, simply letting him kiss her. “Now, where were we, Mrs. Shelby?” He asked, slipping his fingers between her thighs.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was a long one. If you made it to the end, thank you for reading! Let me know your favorite part.

[chvnnie]

soft dom cocky Chan? All she wants is to suck him off but he wants more?

this is my favorite genre of chan

SMUT — MINORS DNI

You really didn’t mind when Chan put his hands on your hips, fingers hooking through your belt loop and pulling you closer to him. Standing in between his spread legs, one hand on his chin to keep it still. It was when he started to get a little more handsy, sneaking on behind you to grope your ass that it became a problem. Making you flick his forehead.

“Ouch—“

“Cut it out.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, but the smile twitching on his plush lips tells you he’s anything but. It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking up at you, brown eyes laced with fondness staring up at you. “Your ass just looks great in these jeans.”

You scoff, moving out of his hold to grab a new brush and eyeshadow platte. “Close your eyes and stop bothering me while I’m trying to work.”

Though the former is no problem, it’s nearly impossible to keep his hands off you. It’s pointless to scold him, to knock his hands away. Chan is going to do whatever he wants to do, and you’re really in no position to complain. Especially when his warm hands start to gently knead your flesh over your jeans. His touch always makes you feel like staticky, almost distracting you from why you were so annoyed with him.

He tried to convince you that everyone is behind schedule, that it isn’t his fault. It’s a bullshit lie; the other members were in and out, barely sitting in your chair for more then twenty minutes. It was Chan that was behind, too caught up on his new project that he lost track of time. He barely got his stage pants on before he was dragged into hair, then pushed in the tiny dressing room you’ve set up shop in.

Then he wanted to kiss you. Tell you how he kept trying to sneak away to visit you, but he just got so busy, baby. Pushes his lips into a pout. Don’t be too upset with him, okay?

Literally, you couldn’t care less about that. You’re frustrated that he’s late, giving you only eleven minutes to get him stage ready. And he keeps trying to waste it by touching you, kissing you. Distracting you from your job.

Six minutes have passed, and your applying color to his lip when there’s a knock on the door. Five minute warning.

“Let me just touch up your eyeliner—“

“It looks fine.”

“No, Chan—“

“We only have five more minutes, baby.” He says in a soft voice, pulling you closer until your knees hit the chair. Forcing you to sit in his lap. “Let’s do something else.”

You sigh, putting your hands on his chest to try and push away. It’s a bad idea; skin so soft against your palm, muscles so broad and firm. Mouth watering, you swallow before shaking your head. “You don’t have time.”

“I can make it.” Chan’s hands slip in your back pockets as his lips brush against yours. Slowly, almost teasing before he lets them connect. “I didn’t get enough of your cunt this morning. Don’t let me go on stage frustrated.”

When you sigh, he knows he’s won you over.

“Fine.” You start to move out of his lap, dropping to your knees between his leg. “But only head.”

Is it because your on a time crunch? Or do you just miss the smile he gives you? The condescending way he says “Sure, baby”? Or are you just too focused on the tent in his tight pants, cock already rock hard from just some heavy petting?

He lips his hips to help you pull his pants down, cock springing out and hitting his defined abdomen heavily. Palm wrapping around the base, you let your hand work freely up and down. A little pressure, a little slow. Exactly how Chan likes it.

“That’s it, baby.” He groans, pulling your hair back in a makeshift pony. “Now spit on it.”

You look up at him with wides eyes, locking in the contact as your spit on the tip of his cock. It makes you start to lose all sense of reality when his lips part, deep moans so prettily filling the small dressing room.

“Good fucking girl.”

You’ve always felt so powerful when you’re kneeled before him. Spit clinging to your bottom lip, you smile up at him. This man, who goes on stage every night, commanding the attention of millions and swooning every being in the stadium—

“Thank you, daddy.”

Crumbles so easily when it comes to you.

Before he can try to control your movements, you’re wrapping your lips around his cock. The weight against your tongue is mind numbing, little thought going into how you take him all in one breath. Nose brushing against his pubic bone, little gags vibrating against him.

“God fucking damn.” His head rolls back against the chair, loudly moaning your name. You want to scold him, warn him how problematic it would be if someone found out about the two of you.

But there’s no time, and you can’t really find it in yourself to care.

Legs pressing together, you start to find the perfect rhythm. Slightly sloppy, very deep down your throat. Just like Chan taught you, tongue flicking over the tip and teeth brushing the shaft. The perfect way to make him fill your mouth, to cum intensely.

With the taste of him is heavy on your tongue, and the gentle way he’s pulling your hair, you’re starting to get more pent up. The static taking over your body, setting it ablaze. Forcing a hand in between your legs, desperately unbuttoning your jeans to force it inside your dampened panties.

Fingers rub tight, quick circles on your clit. Chan’s thighs starting to shake, his moans more broken and whiny. Close. It won’t take long.

“That’s it. Fuck.” He curses. “Such a good little cock slut for—“

The words catch in his throat when he looks down. Sees your eyes shut in bliss, the hand stuffed in your pants. And then he’s pulling you up by the hair, knocking the products off the counter to throw you in it.

You gasp, but he clasps a hand over your mouth before much more noise can be made.

“Do not fucking tell me,” he’s tugging your pants down, not stopping until they’re with the makeup on the floor, “that I don’t have time. Do you really think I fucking care?”

His cock is inside you, spit and slick making it easy to slide all the way in. Hands wrapping around his wrist and nails digging into his skin, you moan into the palm. Head hitting the mirror with a thud.

It wouldn’t be hard to guess what’s happening in this same room. Skin on skin, muffled moans and curses. Hidden relationship be damned; Chan’s sick and tired of not getting to fuck you whenever he fucking wants.

A loud knock. “It’s time, Chan—“

“Two more minutes.” His hips don’t stop, fucking you hard enough to make the flimsy counter creak.

“We don’t—“

“I said.” His head snaps around, voice raised and frustrated. “Two. More. Minutes.”

Each words is emphasized with a hard thrust. Your body is tensing up, stars starting to cloud your field of vision. Chan moves his hand, gripping your cheeks instead. Grabbing your attention.

“You don’t get to tell me no anymore.” He growls, the feral look in his eyes almost frightening. “Got it?”

Quickly nodding, you reach for him. Needing him closer. “Yes, d-daddy—“

“Good. Now fucking kiss me.”

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, slamming your lips against his soft ones. The lip color is rubbing off, melting with each flick of your tongues. He’s starting to get lazy; not moving as roughly, as quickly. As if those two minutes were an eternity.

What were you in such a rush for anyway?

[essentiallyleaf]

day 10. hate sex. with. nana.

472 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, hate sex, degradation, ass play, rimming, anything else that i’m missing?, this started as a brat taming fic in my mind, but honestly, you don’t tame shit in this one, dialogue only, basically improv, i know the pic is clashing, i just kinda like it that way.

notes.

meant for this to be a decent amount longer, but i am emotionally spent from answering an ask that i felt was much more important than all of this. i need to look at pokemon sleeping adorably now. unsurely, leaf.

“Ach-ptoo!”

“Don’t you dare touch me back there, boy”

“Oh, shut up, you were begging for me to fuck you in the ass just three days ago! Now stay still for a second”

“Mmmmmgh-yeahh”

“It’s just my thumb and you’re already mewling, you little bunny slut”

“Nnngh- I’ll choke you as soon as you let me ride”

“And, enlighten me, why would I do that?”

“Because you fucking love it, you idiotic dick with legs!”

“You’d be too busy cumming on my dick, and you know that”

“Fuh- Wanna bet?”

“You ever been to Vegas? Because you seem to be into purposefully losing money”

“Who said I was talking about money?”

“What are you suggesting, then?”

“I ride you, and whoever cums first gives the other five minutes”

“Five minutes?”

“To do what the other wants with them. Mmmmhh- Deal?”

“Deal. Straddle me”

“You have no idea what you just put yourself into”

“Can’t wait to find out”

“Mmmmhhh, can you even handle cumming twice in the span of five minutes?”

“I could handle anything. But I’m afraid you’re not gonna get to find out”

“Oh, such a powerful man”

“You’re the one who’s moaning here”

“Yeah, wanna join?”

“Aaaahh, fucking, slow down!”

“Already begging?”

“We haven’t even started, as far as I’m concerned”

“Really? Cause by the way you’re gripping onto that pillow, most would disagree”

“Mmmmgh- You have no idea”

“What? It seems to me, that I know a lot of things. Nnngh. I know you love how I’m riding you, I know you’ll come before me, and I know you’re a weak man, who only takes bets because his disproportionate ego can’t fathom the idea of a girl, and a smaller girl nonetheless, having him beg for mercy!”

“Mmmmgwaaaahhh, aaah, ah… aah…”

“Pathetic”

“...”

“Fucking pathetic little boy, you came in, how long was that, even?”

“Fuh- You sex-addicted bitch…”

“Heh. You don’t deserve any of this”

“...”

“Now lay still, legs up”

“What?”

“Fucking, bend your legs and pull them up to your chest! Is that hard to understand?”

“Why? Just, choke me and let’s get this over with!”

“Hmph. You came, moaning like a whore, and now you’re trying to run away with your tail between your legs? You wanna get away with a pair of tiny hands around your neck? You don’t have a clue, do you? Honestly, that’s just cute. You’re a cute little bitch, that’s what you are. Now, for the last time, your fucking legs. Up.”

“What do you wanna do?”

“This”

“Gwaaaahhh- Not your tongue there! Jesus Christ, fuck!”

“...”

“Please. Please. Mmmmggghh- Please, just beat my dick. Just, destroy it. Fuckkk- I’ll take anything”

“...”

“Whore, you whore. You bunny devil whore. Fuckinggg- You will see. You have no idea what- I’ll breaknngggaaaahh. Aaaahh. AAAAAAHHHHMMMMHHHFUH-”

“...”

“...”

“Honestly, felt like a punishment for me, more than anything”

-

footnotes.

i hope you have a great day today. especially, leaf.

[laenordeservedbetter]

the demon i cling to

Words: 8.1k

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You couldn’t escape madness no matter how hard you try, but maybe there’s a way where you don’t have to lose your mind alone.

Warnings: (18+) violence, murder, blood, gore, mentions of substance abuse, cussing (+ reader is morally grey!! she's complicated and unhinged.) lmk if I missed any.

A/N: I finally wrote something after three months and it's 8k words of word vomit, making this my longest fic ever. Again, it's been three months of not writing, so please be nice.

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

-

[September 2005]

There can only be a certain amount of restraint one can have before they snap.

You discovered that at a young age. You can’t put the entirety of the blame on growing up in Woodsboro, but it is most likely one of several reasons. The murders have been looming over the town since you’ve been born. Woodsboro, the city where Billy Loomis and Stu Macher went bonkers (that’s a kinder way to put it). Even though there hasn’t been another set of killings since that year in this town, there’s still a good amount of trepidation whenever it gets brought up.

According to your parents, Billy and Stu were like all the other normal kids.

Until they weren’t.

“It’s not something you should worry about, Y/n.” Your mother told you during the thousandth time you brought it up. When you try to say something in protest, she’d shut you down. You were a weird kid, your teachers say so. Attentive, sure, but maybe a little too much.

It wasn’t until the Jenny Willoughby incident that your parents started to suspect that everyone was right about you.

You were in a playground with the kids from your class as an activity to get to know each other. It was pointless, you thought. Everyone already knew each other from the previous years. There are already friend groups and bestfriends. And why did you have to be outside anyway? The classroom has enough space.

You kicked the rocks in front of you to see how far they can go, quite enjoying yourself before one of the rocks hit Jenny’s scrawny leg.

“Ow! Mrs. Bishop, she hit me! Y/n hit me!” She wailed, clutching her foot. Jenny looked like a kangaroo hopping around with one leg while the other was injured. You found it quite funny and laughed without a care in the world, which your teacher didn’t appreciate.

Mrs. Bishop looked at you through her glasses, “Why did you do that, Y/n?” She asked, frowning.

You liked Mrs. Bishop. She was nice. She always gave you extra time to nap and she was patient with you unlike the other teachers. So, seeing her look disappointed made you feel ashamed of yourself. You had let her down. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bishop.” You mumbled.

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.” Mrs. Bishop told you, nodding her head in Jenny’s direction.

“I know.” You pursed your lips, taking the courage to walk up to Jenny and apologize. Bowing your head, you say, “I’m sorry for hurting you, Jenny. I swear I didn’t mean to. I didn’t see you, so I-”

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Suddenly, she sounded cheerful.

What?

You never understood how people can go from sad to happy in a matter of seconds. Analyzing Jenny’s face, you saw that her smile didn’t reach her ears. She is giving you the same smile she gave Samantha Carpenter when the girl accidentally took her bag that had the same color as hers. That smile sets an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something is wrong, you know it, but you say nothing else except “Thank you. Again, I’m really sorry.”

And there was that.

You went back to your original position. Instead of kicking the rocks, you opted for counting the flowers in the bushes.

“Children, please behave yourselves! I’m going back inside the school for a few minutes because I need to use the restroom!” Announced Mrs. Bishop.

Too busy admiring the flowers, you failed to comprehend Jenny settling beside you with her group of friends. “Look at her. She’s such a freak. All alone with no friends. No wonder why she hurt me. She just wants something interesting to happen in her life.” Jenny sneered, acting like you weren’t next to her.

Kris, her equally evil twin, chuckled, “It runs in the family. Her parents are freaks too.”

At that, you recoiled. “Leave me alone, Jenny. I already said I’m sorry. Don’t bring my family into this.”

“Or else what? You’re gonna hurt me with a rock again?” Jenny taunted, showing off the gap in her two front teeth. She took a step closer to you while you stayed put. “Oh, I’m real scared of you, alright. Oh, no, she’s gonna murder me! Help!” She mocked, placing the palm of her hand against her forehead as if to show distress.

Shut up.

“Don’t be silly, Jen. She doesn’t have the guts to do it.”

“You’re right. She doesn’t. That doesn’t make her any less of a freak, though.”

Shut up.

“Speak, you freak!” Jenny shoved your shoulder as hard as she could, sending you tumbling backwards. Her figure stood over you, satisfied by the results of her actions. Bullies like Jenny thrive off of fear. They want to make you feel small so that they can feel better about themselves. Be the bigger person, adults say. Don’t give in.

“Go away.” You mutter, clenching your fists tightly as your palms begin to sweat.

“Why should I? Bullies need to be taught a lesson. Isn’t that right, girls?”

Shut up.

Shut up.

You close your eyes.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up.

“Father said her family is full of losers. She’s one of them.”

SHUT UP.

SHUT UP.

“He’s right, you know.”

Your sprung to your feet, your fist colliding with Jenny’s face. Her sister and friends let out a scream of terror as you hit her. Over and over and over again. “SHUT UP!” Punch. “SHUT UP!” Punch. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” She wouldn’t stop talking (the excuse you would give later on). I just wanted her to be quiet. Your knuckles were starting to turn red, you notice, and your entire fist was coated with blood that wasn’t yours. That’s what urged you on. The satisfying sound as your hand collided with Jenny’s face.

“Y/N!”

You were about to land another blow when four strong hands pulled you back.

You don’t remember what happens next.

-

“SHE BEAT SOMEONE UP!”

“She’s just a kid! Kids make mistakes!”

”THAT WASN’T A MISTAKE. THAT WAS ASSAULT!”

Your parents were in the room next to yours, arguing about what happened. Jenny was sent to the hospital. Fortunately, there wasn’t any permanent damage. Jenny’s parents wanted you expelled, but your father made a bargain to the principal. What kind of bargain, you know not. Just that your mother appeared to be bothered by it.

Eventually, the shouting became unbearable. A part of you felt guilty - not for hurting Jenny but for being the reason your parents are fighting in the first place. You twisted the rusty door handle of your room (your parents should really have it replaced), double checking to see if they heard anything. When the yelling didn’t cease, you took it as a sign that you were free to go.

It’s not the first time you snuck out. The first time you discovered that it was possible was when your parents grounded you because your grades were lower than the year before. They instructed you to stay inside the house. As the curious child you were, you made a careful analysis of every room. That’s how you found out that the backdoor had a faulty handle.

Putting one foot in front of the other, you let your feet lead you to the park a few blocks from your home. You weren’t worried about anybody bothering your moment of solitude. Most of the children have been told by their parents to steer clear from children like you - whatever that means.

Being feared has its perks sometimes.

When you finally arrived at your destination, you were baffled to see Samantha Carpenter on the swing alone. Her long dark hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves, paired with her blue jumper and white shirt. She spotted you approaching and waved, a small smile spreading across her face.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing back behind you, searching for someone else she could be directing the wave to. As you realized there was no one, you were disinclined to wave back. But you did so anyways.

Sam, no longer seated on the swing, came up to you, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Heard you kicked Jenny Willoughby’s butt.”

Your lips pursed into a thin line, “That’s none of your business.”

She raised her hands up in surrender, “Hey, I was going to say that it was pretty cool. It’s about time she learned her lesson.” Sam smiled without a care in the world - like what you did was no big deal.

You nod, your mouth unable to release a response to her statement.

Sam caught how tense your shoulders were and seemed to remember one important detail. “Oh. Sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sam-”

“Samantha Carpenter. I know.” You shrugged, “You’re pretty hard to ignore.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It can be.”

“Thanks… Anyway, you can call me Sam for short. All my friends call me Sam. My parents, too. Except when they’re mad at me.” Sam rambled, waving her arms as she spoke each sentence. Then, she took your hand in hers, leading you to the swing that she previously occupied.

You shove your hands into your jean pockets, unsure of what to do.

Sam seems to think two steps ahead based on the way she guided you to sit down. “I’ll push you now. Just lightly. I don’t want to hurt you. Is that okay?”

“I- yeah. Sure.”

True to her word, Sam began to push your body so the swing can move. Each time you go forward and back again, Sam makes sure to place a hand on your back to support you and to literally push you in the right direction. Although you weren’t sure what made Sam Carpenter act like you knew each other your whole life, you felt at ease being the kid that you currently are. Laughing in glee with Sam felt right. When she talks to you, you don’t feel the apprehension that others usually have. You decided right then and there that you were going to be her best friend.

-

[June 2010]

Sam slumped down beside you, back leaning against the tree you were resting on. Her eyes were red. There were bags under them. It didn’t take you long to realize that she’d been crying.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?! Are you okay?” You hastily take off your headphones, hands planting themselves on Sam’s forearms. Sam hasn’t been seen around town for two weeks. You tried calling. You even went to her house, but got no response except for when Christina told you that they were dealing with family matters and that it isn’t a good time to visit. Now, seeing her like this made you curse yourself for not trying harder to be there for her.

“My dad left.” She said, defeated. “He left because of me. It’s all my fault.” Sam sobbed as you took her in your arms. It was something akin to a chant. Something you knew she made herself believe.

It breaks your heart every time you see her like this. Even if it wasn’t often that the Sam Carpenter broke down in front of you, it doesn’t take away the hurt that it causes you everytime she does. You’re not mad at Sam. You can never be. You’re mad at the world. However, you can’t do anything about it except be there for her when she needs you the most. This is definitely one of those times.

So, you hold her; conveying using your actions that you will always be here for her to lean on when nothing or no one else could. You let her cry in your arms for as long as she needs since that’s what you do for the people you love and because she told you that your arms are the only place she feels safe in. And lastly, you tell her that it’s not her fault. You don’t do it because she wants to hear it. You do it because she needs it. “Sam, it’s not your fault. You hear me? It’s not your fault.”

Sam shakes her head indignantly. “It is. It is m-my fault. Billy Loomis is my father.”

Your blood runs cold at the mention of him. “What?”

“I was looking at my mom’s old diaries to see what kind of cute memories she had with my dad. Then I found out he wasn’t actually my dad at all and that my mom was seeing some other guy, Billy Loomis. He got her pregnant and told dad that it was his . . . When I confronted her about it, screaming, I… didn’t realize that dad was right behind me all along. He didn’t know. That’s why he left. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I… Mom is blaming me. So do I.

“There’s more. See, ever since I found out, I’ve been having these visions of Billy, my biological father. He says things and I can’t… I don’t know how to deal with it.” Sam finishes, turning away so as to not meet your eyes, afraid that there might be abhorrence occupying the space in them. The whole world could judge her and she wouldn’t bat an eye. Her only concern is you being a part of that as well. She fears that one day you’ll realize that she’s no longer worth the effort. She can’t lose you too.

The air lingered with words that are yet to be said, but both of you knew that now was not the time nor place.

“What kind of things does he say, Sam?” You ask gently, rubbing circles on her back to soothe her. By now, your white shirt was soaked in Sam’s tears, though you could care less. Sam is more important than a shirt that you could change out of anytime you want.

There’s a long pause before Sam gives a response to your question. “If I tell you, will you run away?”

“Sam, even if you killed someone, I won’t run away. I’ll even help you bury the body. And even then, I’m staying.” You say, instantly regretting your words once Sam visibly flinches. “Shit. Sorry. Bad take. Anyway, my point is, I’ll always be here for you. No matter what. Nothing you say or do will change that.”

Sam looks up at you, then. There’s something that shines in her eyes that you can’t decipher. Trust? Hope, maybe? “He tells me to just go out there and cut some throats.”

“Do you want to?” You ask, not out of judgment, but out of pure curiosity.

“No. God, no.” Sam shakes her head in the negative, face twisting at the thought of herself sending her peers to their graves. “I’m just scared.”

“Of what, exactly?”

“Scared that I’ll end up just like him. I’m scared that one day I’ll snap and I can’t go back.”

You hum, processing the information Sam just gave you.

“Y/n, say something.”

“You want to hear what I think?” You pull Sam away from you gingerly. For a second, fear flashes in her eyes, but it disappears as quickly as it came when you interlock your hand with hers. When you receive the green light from Sam, you look at her and say, “You’re not your father. I know that what you found out scares you, but Sam, I’ve known you for half my life. I know that you don’t want to hurt people unless they hurt the ones you love first. That’s one of the things I- that’s one of the things that makes you different. You have a heart. So, keep it. Fight for yourself and fight as hard as you can so that you don’t become the person you don’t want to be. Also remember that I’ll be here for you every step of the way to support you.”

Sam wipes away the tears from her eyes, chuckling lightheartedly, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Oh, I know, alright.” Your mouth opens in mock offense when Sam punches your shoulder. “That hurt!”

“Sorry.” Something in the way she says it tells you she’s not, showing from how her mood switches once more. “What if I can’t fight anymore? What if I go crazy? Will you still be by my side?”

You don’t hesitate to answer. “I always will, Carpenter. You’ll have to literally kill me to pull me away from you. It’s you and me till the end of time. We’ll go crazy together, I promise.”

Sam leans her head on your shoulder, letting out a breath, “Crazy together. Somehow, that’s oddly comforting.”

-

[October 2014]

The call comes at around 3 am, precisely 10 minutes after you had fallen asleep. You had been up all night studying for an upcoming exam that in all likelihood would determine whether you have a shot at getting out of Woodsboro. Sam would have told you that it was too early, that you at least have one more year to figure things out. That is, if she bothered to be around. The older Carpenter sibling has been pushing you away lately, much to your annoyance. You can’t help someone if they don’t want to be around you. Nevertheless, that doesn’t dissuade you from coming to her rescue every time she gets herself into trouble.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, reaching for your phone from the wooden nightstand. This scene felt rehearsed. That’s understandable, no doubt, if you take in the events like this that took place too many times for you to count. You can recall each time, each cop that called, the reasons for Sam being in jail again without missing a detail. If you try hard enough, you can even name all officers on duty during the ungodly hours of the morning. That’s a clue to how often Sam got sent to the precinct.

You press the green button, accepting the call without looking at the Caller ID. “Hi, Deputy Hicks.” Clearing your throat, you sit up, turning the lamp on.

You hear Judy sigh on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Y/n. It’s about Sam.”

“Always is.” You mumble, already on your way to the front door. Since you fell asleep still wearing your jeans, you only had to put on a sweater before going out. Your parents were still asleep and if they heard you steal the keys to the car and start the engine, they don’t make it known. A part of you had a suspicion that they knew what you do every other night, but they couldn’t be more indifferent. As long as you kept your grades up and maintained your family’s reputation, they will allow you to do whatever you please. It was both a blessing and a curse. “What is she in for this time?”

“She got high and drove while intoxicated, almost running a boy over. Before she could try to escape, the boy’s mother saw her and called the cops.”

You went quiet, having nothing more to say. This was one of the stupidest things that Sam has ever done. You would rather have her defacing school property while under the influence than being so close to putting other’s lives in danger, including her own.

“Does the mother want to press charges?”

“Lucky for Sam, no. They don’t.”

“Okay, thank you, Deputy. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Arriving at the precinct in record time, you parked your car to the side and turned off the engine. The officer at the desk barely acknowledged your presence, used to your face showing up. One of these days, you may start joking that the police station has become your second home with the way Sam has been acting.

Deputy Hicks looked up from her paperwork when she saw you, “She’s over there.” She tilts her head to the side in lieu of hello.

You ignore the sympathetic glance she gives, “Thank you, Deputy.”

Sam sits in a chair in the corner of the room, looking up at the ceiling, hands folded above her lap. She’s still affected by the drugs. It’s as plain as her mud-covered shirt. She sees you and beams, “Y/n! You came.”

You try to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach when she directs her gaze towards you. You’ve had a crush on Sam for a while now, though, you don’t plan on doing anything about it, fearing that it might compromise your friendship. It’s not a right time for feelings either. The two of you will be off to college in less than two years and as your mother put it, it’s best to not be in a relationship when your future is on the line.

Wait, why are you entertaining the idea of possibly being in a relationship with Sam when it’s very clear that she doesn’t like you back?

“Y/n?” Sam waves her hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Sam’s in the precinct, you remind yourself, you’re mad. This is not healthy anymore.

“Just get up, Samantha.” You say coolly, urging Sam to go ahead of you.

“Jeez, you look pissed.”

“That’s because I am.”

Sam rolls her eyes, “Okay, sorry.”

You’re starting to not believe the words that come out of her mouth. Even if Sam is sorry, she’s not exactly trying to get better.

Deputy Hicks grabs your arm at the same time you were about to head out with Sam. “Y/n, wait, I need to talk to you.” She sees you look towards Sam and adds, “Alone, please.”

“Go wait in the car.” You stare at Sam directly but you don’t look at her. Her breath hitches and you have to ignore how your heart clenches at the sight of her being crestfallen.

Sam holds her hand out. You gave her a questioning look. “Keys?”

You weigh out your options. On one hand, Sam is still experiencing the effects of the drug she took. On the other, you knew she wouldn’t put her life in danger - okay, well, that’s debatable. Sam is… Sam. She’s not completely irresponsible. You trust her. “Don’t do anything stupid.” You toss the keys, watching as she catches them effortlessly.

Sam lets out a sigh of relief upon seeing that your trust isn’t completely lost. “Got it.”

The moment Sam is out of sight, Deputy Hicks releases the grip she had on your arm, eyes softening after taking in your appearance. You don’t squirm under her gaze, having learned from experience that you don’t look so great when you don’t fix your hair before going out. “Look,” She starts, “You’re a good kid. You get good grades, you stay out of trouble, and I know you care about Sam, but-”

“With all due respect, Deputy, I think you should stop before you say what I think you’re thinking.” Your mood shifts, gaze hardening. When other people think of Sam as nothing more than a delinquent, they tend to make judgments based on what they see. They don’t think about what is really going on. They don’t know her. Deputy Hicks doesn’t like Sam. You know that much. But you’re not gonna let her talk shit about your best friend when she isn’t even aware of the full story.

Deputy Hicks doesn’t heed your advice. She goes on. “She’s trouble, that’s what I’m getting at. You have a bright future ahead of you, Y/n. Don’t let her ruin it.”

“She’s not ruining anything.” You argue.

“I know that you missed a test last week because you had to bail her out. It’s why - and I’m only assuming this - you stayed up all night studying for said test because the school gave you a second chance. I know that you will probably spend the rest of your morning taking care of Sam. You’ll go over to her house, take care of her and her sister Tara because their mother is barely around. I get it, trust me. However, I know how this goes. Trust me when I say that you’re better off without her.”

You don’t think too hard about what the deputy just said. “I know myself better than you know me. I’m not going to stay away from her because you said so. You’re not my mother.”

Deputy Hicks runs a hand across her face, knowing that she wasn’t going to get through to you. “Maybe not. But I am a mother. I know I wouldn’t let my kid go around like this.”

“Goodbye, Deputy.” You dismiss, turning to walk out the door with nothing more to say. Deep down, you knew she was right. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, though.

“If you find out who gave her the drugs, will you give us a call?” The deputy asks, changing the subject.

Your body goes stiff when the feeling of rage wakes the part in you that you so carefully hid from the world. It’s here again, stronger than ever. The blood in your body is boiling with anger, that urge to hurt someone in order to make it all quiet. You haven’t felt like this in a while.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

“Will do.” You plaster a fake smile. Needing to get out of this place as soon as you can, you sprint towards your car, opening the door, forgetting that Sam is inside. Ragged breaths come out of your body, throat clenching due to the never-ending thoughts swirling in your fucked up brain.

“Y/n?”

“SHIT!” You get startled by Sam’s voice.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay.” She reassures, right hand resting on your shoulder. “Look at me.” When you don’t do what she says, Sam takes on a firmer tone. “Y/n, look at me. Listen to my voice.”

Her voice is soothing to your ears, driving away that anger; a remedy to whatever is happening inside your head. “Sam,” Your voice breaks when you say her name. “You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk to me instead of getting your hands on every stupid drug that ever existed. If you don’t want to explain it to me, then at least talk to someone. Please, Sam. You have to help yourself. There’s only so much I can manage and… I don’t want to do something I can’t take back.” Murder. The thing that’s left unsaid. You don’t want to have to murder the people causing this, but if it will help Sam, then…

Fuck. No.

You’ve thought about it for sure. You just never got to a point where you are actually considering doing the act.

Sam’s brows furrow, “You’re scared of saying shit to me? Is that what you mean? You don’t have to clean up my messes all the damn time. I’m not making you do this.”

“Sam, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant that I don’t want to be the person who tells Tara her sister is gone because she did something she shouldn’t have,” You lie. If you can’t make her understand things in your perspective, maybe bringing up Tara will make a difference. “Tara will be heartbroken, Sam. She doesn’t want to lose you too.”

That part is true. You spoke to Tara a few nights back when you saw her curled up on the living room couch, waiting for Sam to come home. After you guided Sam to her bedroom, you went downstairs to check on Tara, asking her what she was doing up. She told you everything she knew and felt, including how worried she was about Sam. It is not something a ten-year-old should have to feel, but then again, she can’t know why this is happening. She’s too young to understand.

Sam glances down, looking remorseful. What you said made her partially aware of how this was also affecting Tara. “I’m sorry.”

“Do better. That’s all I’m asking you. Promise me you’ll try.”

“I am trying. You have to know. I am doing better.”

“And what happened today was, what, a mistake? You say the same speech whenever you get caught. I’ll believe you when I see that you’ve actually been trying, because this? This is not what trying looks like.” The way you speak sounds harsher than intended. You should really listen to what your guidance councilor says. Bottling up your feelings will only make things worse. Word by word exits your mouth like a flood that you feel powerless against. Tears stream down Sam’s face as soon as her brain echoes what you were saying.

You were never this upset at her. Hearing you like this guided her in realizing how royally she fucked things up.

“I’m sorry.”

You can’t fight your own tears anymore. The two of you cry in front of each other, aware that although you were physically near, you could not be more far apart. You cry until there are no tears left, cry until your throat is aching and your heart feels like it has been sliced a thousand times by tiny daggers, leaving wounds that would take a long time to heal.

But it feels like a step in the right direction. Somehow, you knew you both were going to be okay.

You held that thought until Sam explained what went down last night.

“I swear I was going to get clean. But then, he approached me, said that he needed money. He didn’t look well, so I took the drugs. He said I didn’t have to take them - that I can throw them away and that he’ll pay me back as soon as he can, but I wanted it. The drugs. They were right in front of me. So, I told myself that it was going to be the last time. I was only fooling myself.” Sam said. “That’s not going to happen again. I’ll get help. For real this time. I promise.”

You stare at the roof of the car, closing your eyes in order to think clearly. “Sam,” You say nonchalantly compared to the tone you used earlier. “Give me a name.”

Sam’s eyes widen, “What?”

“Give me the name of the guy who gave you the drugs.”

She chuckles awkwardly, “Why does it matter? What are you going to do to him?”

“Nothing! I don’t kill people. You know that! I just want to turn him in, is all.” You were stunned by how convincing you sounded.

Sam seemed to believe you. Her shoulders relaxed a bit, the tension in them gone, “Jacob Parker.” She pauses, “Don’t let the cops be too harsh on him. He’s only trying to help his family.”

You purse your lips, “You know I can’t promise anything, Sam.” Sam appears despondent but she doesn’t speak another word. “So… Jacob Parker.” You repeat, testing how the name sounded coming from your mouth. “Thank you.”

Your smile is alarming. “You look psychotic.” Sam says plainly, shaking her head. “Stop that. It’s creepy.”

You put your hands up in surrender, “My apologies.”

“Get us home already.”

You don’t make a move to start driving, deciding to talk to Sam longer. “We’re not done with this conversation yet.”

“I know.”

“We still have a lot to work on.”

“I know.”

“But you’re going to be okay.”

“We’re going to be okay.” Sam corrects. “You and me against the world, right?”

“Damn right.”

You let silence go by on the way to the Carpenters’ residence. The air is lighter now, relieved of the tension that was around before your conversation with Sam. You were pleased by the outcome of this day, no matter how early it still is.

-

You shouldn’t.

You really shouldn’t.

If someone had told you two years ago that you’d be outside Jacob Parker’s house wearing a Ghostface costume, you would have shit your pants while laughing maniacally, but you’re here, doing exactly that.

It’s 4 am, which means that the sun will come up soon, giving you an hour to get the job done or else it will all be fucked and you’d have gone through trouble for nothing.

The house itself was pretty neat. It had a white picket fence and a yard three times bigger than your room. Sam was wrong. Jacob has it good. That motherfucker lied to her. You can’t blame Sam for having a kind heart. She got taken advantage of. That’s not on her. It’s on the guy who saw her vulnerability and turned it into a business opportunity.

Your disdain takes over whatever ounce of hesitation left within you. You have to do this. You have to protect Sam. You’re doing this for her. This is the only way you can protect her.

Plucking out a burner phone from your pocket, you dial Jacob’s number, the one you asked Sam for prior to leaving her house. You turn on your voice changer and press the call button, waiting for Jacob to pick up his phone.

It took three rings, but eventually, the boy answered, a bit disoriented, “Hello?”

“Hello, Jacob.”

You can hear Jacob shuffling around, dazed. “Who is this?”

“Let’s play a game, shall we? I give you ten seconds to hide and if I find you, I’ll gut you like a fish.” You say cheerily, moving towards the house. The back door is the most favorable option, seeing that it wasn’t locked. Idiot, you thought. There’s no car parked in the garage or in front of the house, which implies that his parents aren’t home. Is it this easy?

“Look, I don’t know who you are or why you’re having the Ghostface voice, but that’s not how they usually speak in the movies. They don’t play hide and seek.”

You’re positive he can see you smiling through your words even if you’re not in front of him, “Ah. A fan of slashers, I see . . . What’s your favorite scary movie, Jacob?”

“There. Now you got it.”

His breathing is too relaxed, indicating that he’s not moving, possibly not counting you as a threat. You slide open the door as quietly as you can, ambling through the stairway leading up to the second floor. Jacob’s room is very hard to miss. There’s a big sign on the wooden door that spells out his name in bold, cursive letters. Your eyes scan through details of this place, looking for one you can use to scare him.

A picture frame on the counter with him and a little boy. He has a brother. You remember, overhearing a gossip from school that his brother was sick. There’s a rumor that went around about how that is the reason why he’s selling drugs. His family is loaded, so it can’t be about money. It’s about finding a distraction.

You read the writing on top of the frame.

“Jacob and Barry”

That’s the same moment you notice another door next to Jacob’s room.

Bartholomew.

You walk over there first, peeking inside the room. On a bed lays Barry, wires hooked into his body, a machine next to him, displaying his heartbeat. You almost feel bad about what you’re going to do.

Almost.

“Give me an answer or else I’ll cut Barry’s head off! You wouldn’t mind if a few years gets removed from his lifespan, right? After all, he’s already sick. Might as well stop his suffering.”

“NO!” You hear hurried footsteps coming from the other room, no doubt that it’s Jacob on his way to save his little brother from his own end, not knowing that it secured his. “Don’t touch him, I swear to God! You better not! I’ll do anything, please!”

“I’ll ask again. What is your favorite scary movie?”

“STAB 5! THERE! I SAID IT! NOW LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

As soon as he steps out of the room, you shove him against the wall and plunge your knife into his stomach, twisting it until the blood begins to pour out. You use your free hand to cover his mouth, muffling his screams. “Stab 5 was the worst movie of the entire franchise! It’s no one’s favorite!” You pull out your knife for a moment before driving it into his shoulder.

You glance at the blood on your hands in awe. It was a dream come true. You could not apprehend how so much blood can reside in one body, taking your time in watching Jacob bleed out in front of you, the voice in your head quiet at long last. The rapture followed. He can’t hurt Sam anymore. “This is what losers such as yourself get.” You state, withdrawing your hand from his mouth.

Jacob’s eyes are silently pleading. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but Barry is innocent. Don’t hurt him. You owe me that. He’s my family.”

“I don’t owe you shit!” You laugh incredulously, “No one owes you anything! I don’t give a shit about your family. You messed with mine first.”

“W-what?”

You don’t give him a response, perforating his heart with your blade.

His head lolls to the side, staring at nothing in particular.

That’s one less person who can hurt Sam.

The thrill of the kill sticks with you long after you went home to clean yourself up, ensuring that you left no trace behind. You got rid of the body, of course, so the police doesn’t suspect that another psychopathic Ghostface is on the lose.

You’d do anything to protect Sam.

It’s all for her.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam saw the full extent of what you were capable of doing - adding another name to her list of fucked up connections.

-

[May 2015]

“It’s not gonna work, Sam.” The ghost or hallucination (depending on who you’re asking) of Billy Loomis states, standing behind Sam, their eyes locking in the bathroom mirror. He has a calm exterior, as if he knows what’s about to happen to Sam before the latter can begin to think. “You can’t avoid her forever. She killed someone. Acknowledge it.”

Sam opens a bottle, taking out an antipsychotic pill, shoving it into her mouth without hesitation. “I have acknowledged it. She killed the guy who gave me drugs.”

Billy shoots her a no-nonsense stare, “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Okay, then speak to me since you’re such a know-it-all.” Sam clenches her fists, “You’re not even real.”

“Aren’t I?” Billy challenges. “Wanna hear the truth, Samantha? Here it is: the murder is not what bothers you. What bothers you is the fact that it doesn’t. You would care if it was an innocent person, but Jacob wasn’t an innocent. He manipulated you, knowing damn well you have a problem. You feel relief that he’s dead, but you’re guilty because you think that his blood is on your hands, thinking that you’re the reason Y/n did what she did. You don’t want to destroy her.”

Sam’s throat clenches, knowing Billy was right. However, that doesn’t mean she’s happy about it. “Shut up.”

“You’re the one who wanted the truth. I’m giving it to you.” Just when Sam thinks he’s done talking, he goes on, similar to a man on a rampage (which he has really done before he died). “You did not corrupt her. It is not your fault. That girl you’re in love with - oh, don’t give me that look - has had a darkness inside her that existed before you came into her life. The same darkness that you and I have; the only difference being that she’s not doing it out of revenge like I did. She does it for you, which makes it difficult for you to understand your feelings because you believe that if you accept her for who she is, you will go crazy. That maybe she’ll convince you to kill for her or something. She won’t. You know that. You are just afraid.

“Crazy runs in our blood. One day you are gonna stop fighting and accept who you are. The only choice that is presented to you right now is you either accept her for who she is or push her away.”

“You say that as if murder is something simple.” Sam scoffs.

“You will forever have an argument against the things I say because I’m a murderer. That’s who I am to you. But what do you truly believe, Sam?”

Sam (surprisingly) simply shrugs defeatedly, “I don’t know.”

“Well, figure it out. Must I remind you that she’s leaving. Today.”

At the mention of your departure, Sam shows her father an emotion other than ire. “That’s today?” She blinks and sees that Billy was no longer there. Quickly, she checks her phone and see what the date says. “Fuck.” She grumbles, rushing out the house like lightning.

-

You look out your window for the umpteenth time, hoping that somehow, she will show up. The last time you spoke was three weeks ago. It’s like she’s purposely pulling away from you and you have no idea why. Though Sam was true to her word and stopped getting herself into trouble, she decided to talk to everyone but you. You gave her space while you thought about what you could have done wrong. When you bumped into her at school (which was unexpected since she has been doing a good job at using alternative routes to her classes just to avoid you), you told her you were leaving.

You got accepted at NYU and were leaving earlier than expected. New York is about as far from Woodsboro as you can get. You can’t wait to leave this place yet there is someone you don’t want to leave behind. You don’t want to leave Sam, but you know that eventually, everyone leaves. You would only be putting off the inevitable.

As for the Jacob situation, the cops never found out who did it. They assumed he ran away (you grabbed a suitcase with you that belonged to him and put clothes and essentials into it). That was all. Cased closed. Simple as that.

You don’t feel an ounce of remorse. Even so, from time to time, you get nightmares. You don’t remember much from them. The only things you know is that you wake up sweating, your heart racing, and tears stream down your face at the same time a name makes its way out your mouth, sounding like a prayer. Sam.

“She’s not coming.” Your mother says sympathetically.

You forgot she was standing near the doorway, watching you pack your things. “She will.” You’re sure. Sam was many things, but time showed that even if she was upset at you, she would still show up for the events that matter. And this, moving to New York, was a big change. She wouldn’t dare miss it. “I know she will.” You say, determined.

“Okay.” Your mother nods. She opens her mouth to speak, but Sam appears by the doorway, sweat dripping from her forehead, both hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “I stand corrected.” M/n grins, “Sam.”

“Good morning, Mrs. L/n.” Sam breathes out, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a moment.” M/n lightly shoves Sam inside the room so that she can close the door.

“Did you run here?” You asked, amused. Walking over to your nightstand, you grabbed an unopened water bottle and handed it to Sam, who downed the drink in one gulp.

“Sure did.” Sam wipes her sweat with the back of her hand. She sits next to you on the bed, shuffling her fingers, something you knew she does whenever she gets anxious. “I’m sorry for avoiding you these last few months…” It’s because I followed you to Jacob’s house without you knowing and I saw you kill him for me.

One look at her and you knew she knew. The one thing you’re good at other than stabbing is reading Samantha Carpenter. You’ve spent so much time memorizing her that you knew immediately. You don’t know what to say except “It’s not your fault, Sam. Please know that. It was my choice. You didn’t force me to do it.”

“Why did you?” Sam asks, unsurprised by how quickly you caught on. She didn’t make a move to step away from you because she wasn’t afraid. She never was. That never changed.

“You probably don’t understand, but there’s this… thing that has always been a part of me. I could control it most times but when I can’t, I hurt people. There’s so much noise going on in my head. The two things that can pull me out of that is by inflicting pain onto others or just being in your presence. I know it’s fucked up. I would much rather choose the latter every time, but I can’t. When Deputy Hicks asked me to give her a call if I found out who sold you the drugs, that anger came back. Maybe it never left. I don’t know. I did what I did because I thought that if he’s not there anymore, nothing can hurt you again. It’s stupid. I know. I’m sorry.”

Sam does the last thing you expected her to do. She kisses you, her hands going to the sides of your face, cupping them gently, afraid that you would break.

You freeze, unable to form a response.

What the fuck?

Sam kissed you.

You grin from ear to ear, surprised by the action, but not deeming it unwelcome.

Sam pulls away, mortified, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I thought you-”

You cut her off, “Shut up and kiss me again.”

She wastes no time in closing the gap, reconnecting your lips once more. Your hands went to her waist, needing her to be as close to you as possible. This time, you kiss her back passionately. You’ve had many roles in your life, but nothing felt as right as being the one to kiss Sam Carpenter. You were made for her.

Sooner than what you wanted, Sam pulled away. You open your mouth to protest but she presses a finger to your lips. “If we don’t stop kissing, we’ll run out of air.”

You scrunch your nose, “I don’t know, Carpenter. Dying in your arms doesn’t sound too bad.”

Sam shakes her head fondly, “God, you’re such a dork.”

“You like me, though, right?” You asked jokingly even though deep down, you were quite unsure.

“Yes, of course I like you.”

“I like you too.” You say immediately, satisfied with the answer.

After a while of kissing and… more kissing, you lay beside each other, doing nothing in particular except staring at the ceiling. You break the silence. “So what now?”

Sam ponders the question, “Now… You go to New York.”

You roll over to the side, propped up on one elbow, using your free hand to brush hair away from her face. “What about us?”

“We’ll see each other again.” She asserts, placing a kiss on top of your head.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I do understand. More than anyone.”

She rolls you over on your back in a mission to kiss you for as long as time allows it. Caught up in the moment, you fail to question what her words meant. Your mind fills with thoughts that consist of how perfect this moment feels. There was noise, yes, but they lie in the form of the most beauteous poems. Samantha Carpenter gives you clarity yet she is capable of bringing you down to ruins. The best part is that you’d let her. You would authorize her to bring out a sentence; to amplify the light inside of you or to let the madness consume you both. Regardless of the outcome, you would not mourn the debris that would rain down upon you. For the sweetest poison is in the form of her lips.

-

[August 2022]

You were scanning mountains of paperwork when your phone buzzes. Although normally, you would let it ring until whoever is calling realizes that you are occupied, the name that flashes on the screen makes you think twice. Pressing the green button to accept the call, you bring the phone to your ear, anticipation bubbling inside your veins.

The voice that comes from the device is not the one you were hoping to hear. It sounds eerie, sending a chill up your spine.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

[The End.]

-

Taglist: @daddy-jareau

[temis-de-leon]

The Seven Siblings

Chapter 1 - The Eldest Brother

Main Masterlist

Summary: It's a normal morning, dull even, when Lucifer finds himself waiting for the train with his brothers. The air is cold and threatens to bore them all and just before he thinks there would be nothing more than sitting straight for hours while looking at the human scenery through the window, a surprising coincidence calls for his attention.

A/N: can you tell how little I care for the future posts list's order? Jk, jk... I wrote this in one day when I couldn't get it out of my mind and I hate spending too much time without posting, so bear with me, please :) And enjoy!

.

.

It had been a long time since Lucifer stopped caring about the beauty of the Human Realm. It was lacklustre compared to the magic of the Devildom and the perfection of the Celestial Realm; sure, the human’s free will had a certain splendour, but was it not modelled under his Father’s guidance?

Perhaps he needed new eyes to experience everything for the first time; without having been there since its creation.

The sun wasn’t out yet, but the blue above them all was clear and bright. He looked up to the skies not expecting anything to show up, but a couple of pigeons flew over his head and landed on the train rails to search for food in the gravel. An elderly woman waiting on the platform scowled in disgust, furiously clapping to scare the birds away and then mindlessly kicking when one of them dared to stop at her feet and pecked the hem of her skirt.

People around her only turned away from their phones for a second before going back to their businesses. They were tired, silently fighting to keep their eyes open and not lose their train, and Lucifer felt a bizarre pang of understanding that faded faster than it came.

Loud voices, or at least louder than the general silence of the station, brought everyone’s attention to the tourniquet. Four adults, two of them in their twenties, leading a group of three teenagers; all of them babbling between each other like they were going out for lunch after class. One of the adults, a man with dark hair and a scarred face, softly shushed the younger members until they fell silent; the other, the eldest one, continued walking without a word until reaching the platform Lucifer and his brothers were on.

His hair was fairer and his skin smoother, but there was no mistake that both men were brothers. In fact, now that they were closer, Lucifer could see the resemblance among all of the group. The girl and the boy in their twenties looked like carbon copies of the older adults and the teens shared many features.

Seven siblings, then?

Curious.

Lucifer discreetly turned around, hoping any of his brothers also saw the coincidence, but barely half of them were awake enough to even be aware of their surroundings. However, Satan was observing with curiosity, as always, and Asmodeus was shamelessly gawking at the boy in his twenties. He was handsome and restless and was staring at the demon with the same amount of interest.

“Can you not be a manwhore?” whispered his sister before Lucifer had any time to summon patience for the trip. “For once, please”

“I’m merely admiring the view” he said in return, not as low as her.

He could hear Asmo humming in appreciation at the words.

“Dear God…” muttered the girl and Lucifer almost shared the sentiment.

The blond man sighed quietly and his brother shushed once more, sending everyone back to silence. A sudden feeling of envy struck Lucifer. What wouldn’t he give for such obedience from his brothers?

He checked his DDD, content knowing that the train wouldn’t arrive for at least another five minutes, and clapped himself on the back once more for dragging his brothers out of their beds instead of letting them sleep a little longer. They could rest once they were sitting in their private compartment.

“I’m tired” whined someone.

He turned around again expecting to see Belphie’s unforgiving eyes but was surprised when he found him completely passed out on Beel’s shoulder.

“You can sleep on the train” answered a soft voice. The scarred man, who looked way more intimidating than he sounded.

One of the teenagers, the oldest one probably, swung his arms around his body careful not to hit any of his siblings. There were dark circles under his eyes, but, contrary to his words, he seemed entirely alert.

“I don’t want to sleep, I’m just tired” he shrugged, dropping his arms and then letting his whole body weight fall against his older brother, who caught him with no problem and kept him in place with a gentle hug.

More envy coated Lucifer’s mind.

No more than a couple of seconds passed before the kid talked again, his words muffled against the scarred man’s leather jacket.

“Is Arron okay?

“Me?” answered immediately the blond man, smiling at the concern with no joy in his eyes. “Don’t worry about me Gal, I’m just tired as well”

“But you are tired all the time, aren’t you?” intervened a younger girl.

And how sweet she looked, so innocent and sincere. It seemed Arron thought the same because he walked to his youngest sister and chastely kissed her on the forehead.

“Let’s talk about this later, okay?”

Lucifer half expected any of them to insist and prod at the ambiguous response; hell, he wanted someone, anyone, to show even the tiniest bit of dissatisfaction and urge for a juicier answer, but nothing came. An ugly feeling took root in his chest.

“Wish that was you, huh?” muttered a voice next to his ear.

He slowly turned his head, noticing the vein in his forehead preparing itself to make an appearance. Mammon looked as bewildered as him, surprised at the human interaction in front of them, but he didn’t seem to realize the weight of his words nor the effect they had on Lucifer’s conscience.

Silence slowly left the platform when more passengers hurried through the line of tourniquets to settle on the remaining benches and even sit cross-legged on the floor, nervously checking their phones and getting their tickets ready for the conductor. A female voice filled the empty corners of the station informing the time of departure and destination and, soon after, the long-awaited train appeared in the distance. Mammon sighed in relief before resting his forehead on the back of Lucifer’s neck.

For a short moment, he pondered shaking the weight away, but then he looked forward.

Gal, if he’d heard correctly, had stopped hugging the scarred man, but was still grabbing his arm. Next to them, both sisters were holding each other in a lazy hug. They looked nearly identical, although the age gap was noticeable, and while the younger girl had a naïve look to her, the other seemed completely irritated and unwilling to be there.

“They’re allowing the entry already”

Satan nudged him, lightly pushing him to start walking and leaving Mammon behind in the process. The sudden absence left Lucifer’s skin cold.

He watched as Arron led his younger siblings towards the doors, handing each of them their respective tickets while giving commands in a soft tone.

“Each compartment has four seats, so choose who you want to go with” he said to the teenagers.

“Are Mara and Megor going to be together?” asked the youngest one, who had been completely silent until now. They both shrugged in unison before the girl, Mara, lightly punched her brother’s arm.

“Of course” she said in feigned annoyance. “Like always”

“I want to go with Megor”

“And I want to go with Mara”

“I’m cool going with Arron and Owen” added quickly the oldest teen, Gal, but before anyone could say anything else he continued talking. “However, what if you go on one compartment and we…?”

“Absolutely not”

People around them were entering the train, slowly emptying the platform in hurried and exhausted movements. Someone said something behind Lucifer, but he couldn’t find himself able to pay attention. Almost all of the siblings had a name except for the youngest two and, even though Owen had stopped his brother’s question, not an ounce of hostility hanged inside the group. 

“Why, though?” intervened Megor, dropping his arm over Gal’s shoulders and bringing him closer. “You left Mar and me alone all the time when we were their age”

“Oh yeah, and you came out perfectly fine, didn’t you?”

There was a shared chuckle among them before Arron leaned over Owen to whisper in his ear. The younger siblings looked at each other with curiosity, unable to hear what they were saying, but Lucifer’s superior senses caught everything perfectly.

"Let them be" pleaded Arron.

“They are minors” protested his brother.

“We need to think about how we are going to tell them everything”

Their expressions became sombre and they further turned their heads to hide from the rest of their family, but not much more happened before a hand grabbed Lucifer’s elbow and pulled him with force.

“Yo!”

“What?!”

Mammon stared at him in surprise, not bothering to hide his amusement. The rest of their brothers were also staring, still half-asleep and unsure of what was happening, waiting for him to move and enter the train with them.

“I didn’t have you for an eavesdropper” the younger demon said with a smug smile.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping” he immediately refuted, the frown on his forehead deep enough to give him a headache.

“Keep telling yourself that”

His airhead brother hid behind an annoyed Levi just in time to avoid Lucifer’s stern eyes, both of them disappearing amongst the sea of people on their way to the compartment. The twins went behind, soon followed by Satan and, falling behind, Asmo.

“I can’t blame you” he whispered in his direction while looking at himself in his heart-shaped pocket mirror to retouch his lip-gloss. “I’d stare at him for hours”

Lucifer followed his gaze and nearly hurt himself rolling his eyes to the back of his head. Megor’s back was facing them, his elegant figure and silky hair easily distinguishable in the remaining crowd.

“You are mistaking the situation” he harshly assured him. “I couldn’t care less about him”

“Oh! Better for me then…”

“Do not engage with any human, Asmo, that is not the purpose of this trip”

“Come on! Please? Let me have fun!”

His eyes were shining, hypnotizing, and Lucifer knew enough of his brother to turn his head around and ignore his honeyed pleas. His eyes found another pair then, a serious gaze, but not harsh.

Arron was looking right at him.

“Well, I hope you don’t engage with any of them either because you seemed really interested back there” continued complaining Asmo, ignorant to the staring match beside him, before finally walking away and leaving Lucifer and a mass of admiring humans behind.

It took a few seconds and Owen’s insistence to distract Arron and make him lose the subtle competition, but Lucifer could still feel the interrogation in his stare.

 “We shall see” he muttered to himself even though he was alone.

Then he followed his brothers’ path and finally blended into the crowd.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[lfghughes]

Can you write a second chance romance fic with Trevor using the lyrics “and I am no longer funny because I miss the way you laugh” and “I’ll dream each night if some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose” from Stick Season by Noah Khan?

a/n: i just want to say that stick season is one of my favorite songs to exist and his whole album has a special place in my heart so i love you so so much anon

When the break up first happened even though Trevor felt empty he had managed to distract himself. Hockey season was on, his schedule was busy so it was easy to keep his mind off the fact that the girl he was in love with had broken up with him. His schedule at the time was hectic and he wasn’t willing to really make the efforts needed to maintain a good relationship. Once his schedule slowed down that was when it hit him hard.

The person he wanted to come home to wasn’t here but the memory of her was everywhere around his place. He wondered if there were still memories of him at her place. What she had done with some of the things he had left behind. If she had saved the things in a drawer somewhere like he had with her things. As he laid in bed he thought about everything in the relationship.

Her laughter still rung deeply in his mind. He would do or say about anything just to hear that laugh and when she would laugh at something dumb he said he thought he was the funniest guy in the world. Now he knew he wasn’t funny, not without her laughter encouraging him. Trevor knew some answers he could get from going on social media and seeing what she was up to or if she had a boyfriend now but that was painful.

Instead he let himself think about the person he had, that exact version and how happy they were when things weren’t as chaotic. This was how he chose to see her instead of the person he lost. An idiot, that’s how he felt right now. He had nothing fully planned for his summer and all he knew was he hated this part of himself. There was something missing and he knew it was her. She was his other half and he needed to fix what he had done.

Trevor grabbed his phone from where it laid on the pillow next to him and before he could stop himself he called the number he knew by heart. “Hello?” Her voice rang on the other side of the phone and his heart skipped a beat. “Hey, what are you doing this weekend?” Forward and kind of straight to the point. “Not much…Is everything okay?” Concern etched into her voice. “Me and you, dinner this weekend.” He was willing to do whatever she wanted and he just hoped that the answer would be yes.

“Okay, sure..” A deep sigh of relief fell from Trevors lips the minute he heard her okay. The rest of the phone call they spent it catching up on some things. He did manage to poke around and find out that she was still single, not that he would get his hopes up about that. Then all he had to do later this week was prepare for dinner.

The rest of the week flew by and when dinner with her came around, Trevor had everything she needed. They had decided on eating in and he would cook. This also meant that Trevor had to do a lot of decorating because he still wanted this to be kind of romantic in hopes of getting a second chance. From the look in her eyes when she walked in, that was exactly the message she got. Dinner went smoothly and the laughter that would fall from her lips at certain moments was music to his ears.

The night almost passed by too quickly and now here they were saying goodbye. “So Trevor…What exactly is going on?” She asked and he knew this was the moment he had to just spit out his feelings. “I should have taken us a lot more seriously and I didn’t realize what I had until I no longer had it. I don’t know if it’s something you’d want to try again but if you’d give me that second chance, trust me I wouldn’t take advantage of it.” A small smile grew on her lips as she listened to everything she had wanted to hear for months. “I don’t want to just jump right back in…But I’m willing to slowly work on us and hopefully get to where we were.”

[iris-of-bliss]

𝔽𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕣𝕤 [𝟙𝟠+]

Summary: You had a long day at work, and you finally see your boyfriend again. Later in the night, you two exchange some pleasure in bed.

Pairing(s): Steve Fox/F!Reader

Warning(s): Smut, Teasing, Fellatio, Cunnilingus

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Dominant with a bit of sub Steve Fox is what I love most 💙

“C’mon, damn it!” Hwoarang curses at himself.

It was guys night with Jin, Hwoarang, and Steve Fox. They were settled down at a private hangout, that being the basement of you and Steve’s house. Both rivals Jin and Hwoarang were in the middle of playing intense foosball while Steve kicked back and watched the show. So far this has been a draw, and there can only be one winner. These two had made a deal earlier for the outcome: If Hwoarang loses, he has no other choice but to get Jin’s bike repaired. Why the hell is that? Well, let’s just say he got scammed by some lousy repairman. Jin won against his opponent at a fighting tournament, so he decided to give him a second chance. Meanwhile, Fox didn’t need to worry about this situation. He would feel entertained by the ongoing energy during the hangout. Even Hwoarang’s frustrations caught a laugh out of him.

“All this competition over a bike, eh?” he chuckled out.

The Taekwondo master growled, “Shut it! I’m focused.”

The constant shifting and spinning of foosball rods hitting the miniature ball kept going. It was almost time for Steve’s friends to leave as you planned to arrive back at eleven sharp. You were busy working a few extra hours at your job. He was worried about you wounding up tired when seeing you again. Taking you to bed was currently on his mind right now, among other things.

The redhead swears, “Shit!”

The foosball game was done. The metal rods’ spinning came to an end. Jin was declared the winner whilst Hwoarang had to do the favor.

“This is only a game, Hwoarang. Taking my bike for a repair won’t be much of a hassle,” Jin reassured as he snuck in a smirk.

The martial artist groaned, “Whatever you say, big shot.”

Steve stood up from his seat and approaches his rival. He gives a nudge to the shoulder as he chuckled, “C’mon, don’t be such a sore loser. You’ll get him back next time.”

“Oh trust me, I’ll make sure to show him-“

Their conversation was interrupted by a crack of the door. Footsteps made their way down the stairs. The trio looked back, seeing a familiar figure before them. You made your return from tonight’s job. By the looks of it, you found that they were finished with a foosball game. You were curious to ask, “Did I disturb something, or were you guys just finished with your game?”

The boxer strikes a bright smile and walks towards you, giving a tight hug, “Why of course we’re done, luv!”

He lifts you up and peppers a few kisses to your cheek. Hwoarang shakes his head while Jin hummed, “Seems like we should head out, yeah? I think Xiaoyu is waiting for me.”

“You two got girls? Heh, I’m going home to a punching bag.”

Steve looks back at the martial artist, “Going for an overnight practice? Try not to get sloppy back there, will ya?”

“Don’t try underestimating me when I pick a fight with you,” Hwoarang waved his hand back. You watch the two guests walk out the basement to the front door. It was just you and Steve in the room. Your boyfriend pulls you close by the waist, looking into your eyes softly.

“Was work alright? Ya feel any tired?” Steve was making sure if you needed any rest.

You caress his face, “A little bit, but I’d like to use some spare time before going to sleep.”

—

Changing in your nightwear after a long day felt a lot better. You’re lying down with a shirtless Steve in his sweats while you were wearing a cute and lacy slip dress night gown. You shared small chatter about the day for around ten minutes. It was an average day for each of you, but maybe a little spicing up wouldn’t be too bad.

Fox compliments you, “You know, you look like an angel in that night gown.”

Your heart flutters with joy by his sweetness. You place a hand over his cheek as your thumb brushes his skin. Leaning in for a kiss, Steve grabs you by the waist for you to lay on top of him. You yelp and giggle as you continue to kiss. Your legs were set on Steve’s sides while his hands rub along your back. One of them ended up squeezing your rear gently, the hem of your gown being lifted away from it. He wanted you to feel his entire hand knead the skin. You whimpered and your back arches due to the sly tease. That was when you suddenly grind against him until noticing a hard spot in his sweats. Your boyfriend released a slight gasp, eyes moving back and forth in embarrassment. Your movements went into a halt.

“That felt unexpected, wasn’t it?” he held a nervous laugh. Sure, you didn’t expect a poking erection, but it was barely a bother. You were already getting horny regardless. Lessening his worries, you exchange a kiss and pet his blonde strands.

“I can take care of it for you, sweetie. Would you like that?”

Steve slowly nods with his eyes wide. You kiss him once more before going down on him. You pull down his pants, removing them completely to toss elsewhere on the floor. The sight of you made him blush lightly. The position of your ass perking up while you bend down to free his cock. He’s prepared for what’s to come through the night.

You start landing kisses around the shaft to the tip of his erection. Its size was larger than you expected. You slip the tip of your tongue out and teasingly lick under it. Steve’s lower abdomen made a light twitch by your act. He brings one of his hands to stroke your hair whilst gripping the sheets. You glance up at him before continuing the show. He never received a blowjob before, so it was up to you to make it exhilarating. When your lips parted over the head, Steve pushes you down a bit, not too much to where you gag though. He isn’t a rough person himself during sex when he is mostly soft. Still, there is no such thing as not being rough on the table. Steve can go either way if he wants to.

“You’re doin’…so good to me,” the boxer praises, “That feel good for ya, dove?”

You wouldn’t fail shooting your best shot sucking him off thanks to his choice of nicknames to call you. It was becoming his enjoyment praising when you were doing such a good job pleasuring him. You make slow bobbing motions with your tongue tasting around his shaft. Your breath starting to feel hot, Steve was breathing heavily as he recognized a glint of saliva crawling out of your mouth. He massages your scalp with his eyes shut and lip bit down. His face even felt hot. You hummed with pleasure, causing Steve to whimper. This felt so fucking good to him. It was nothing but pure bliss. His hand moves down to your cheek to caress while you quickened the pace. He pushes your hair back to catch a better view. You hum on him again and pump on the base of his cock with your hand. A feeling of dampness formed in your panties due to your cunt throbbing so miserably. Your boyfriend tried his best to hold back his moans, yet would end up slipping them out.

Steve’s breathing hitched, “Ah, (Y/N)! Sweetheart, I’m gettin’ close…”

He began to feel his dick throb inside your mouth, earning an aroused mewl. His brows furrow as he clenches his teeth at the view. You tug at Steve’s boxers when sending a few last pumps around his sex. After quickly pulsating, he shot a warm load into your mouth. You suck and lick off every drop that remained. Steve’s breathing slowed down post-release. He let out a sigh and lays his head back on the pillows. You pull out with a pop and lick your lips before placing his cock in his boxers. Crawling above him, you sent kisses on his jaw and cheek. Your satisfied partner made a slight smirk and glances at you. He holds you close by your torso, rubbing the small of your back. You wrap your arms around the base of his neck.

“You tasted so good, baby. Did that please you enough?” you manage to tease. Fox nods and pecks your temple. Arms encircle your body tight, possibly meaning that Steve himself had a plan for you.

He answers you, “Yeah, but perhaps I could return the favor, right?”

You were unable to reply fast enough because of him tossing and turning you onto your back, his body towering over yours. Blush marks appear on your face whilst your hands hover along Steve’s sculpted muscles. It didn’t fail to hypnotize you much to the lack of surprise. He knew your eyes were distracted, so he kisses you again. Your eyes scurry up to his face.

“My face is up here, luv,” he inches close to your ear to kiss, “Don’t take your eyes off it.”

Since when the hell did Steve get good at flirting? You became completely speechless. He slid himself down while kissing your body in the process. His face now in between your thighs, spreading your legs apart. Steve pushes your gown upward to be welcome by a laced pair of panties already soaked. He smirks from the small mess you allowed your horny self to make.

“Already wet down there, eh?”

Your heart skips a beat as the boxer kisses the spot. You hum in a moan, causing him to look up with puppy eyes. He takes the edge of the cloth with his teeth until pulling it all off with his fingers. Throwing the panties on the floor, he lays back on his stomach in front of your cunt.

“Don’t try and suffocate me while I’m at it, will ya?” Steve asks the favor. You nod as you watched him from below. He makes sure to grip both legs tight for good measure. This was going to be a long ride for you. Kisses were placed over your womanhood again, leading to your breathing getting heavy. You were already throbbing again. He releases his tongue to lick your slit, yet the motions felt agonizingly slow. And oh it was in such a good way, too. You could even feel the tip of it tease you so badly. Your boyfriend probably learned from your earlier stunt when sucking him off. It wasn’t until the tongue’s tip found your clit before flicking a few, then going back down again. You arch your back and whimper in desperation. Your hands start gripping the sheets.

“This is all your fault for teaching me how to arouse you, sweetheart,” he recalls a memory.

Your voice stumbled, “S-Steve, I need you- ah!”

This man is such a quick learner. You remember how he had a lack of experience for these sexual scenarios. It amazed you that he can pick up some of your weaknesses and discover more. God you didn’t want him to stop. You made the urge to stay silent the whole way as Steve can handle you all to himself.

Steve’s tongue keeps making the same motions from your opening to the bit of flesh, causing you to squirm. His strong arms pinned you down by the legs to prevent any escaping. He wanted this to be absolutely perfect for you. His tongue then laps over your slit, the hot breaths touching your sensitive skin. During his work, he looks up at your reaction, your body still squirming with eagerness. A wave of hollered moans should be good for him, but not enough for the night. He makes a bold move to go deeper and slide his tongue inside of your aching cunt. Your eyes shot wide open as you moan in pleasure. You shove his head down with your free hand, and your legs weren’t able to withstand his strength to writhe out. Steve taps your leg before extending a hand for you to hold. You move yours away from his head to grab his hand. His thumb rubs over your knuckles for reassurance. Your leg leans against the boxer’s face while lying over his shoulder.

As it went on, his tongue kept thrusting in and out as well as curl in certain places. He found the right spot after hearing you moan loud again. Steve’s mouth covered your entire area, his tongue gushing with your fluid. It felt so warm and slick when sliding through your walls. He takes ahold of your free leg and massages both hips to add for the satisfaction. The inside of your pussy felt hot and continued throbbing at once. Seems like you were about to finish, too.

You broke your silence, “Mm, babe! D-don’t stop! So…good!”

Your boyfriend hummed at your approval, and grips your legs in place. The vibration against your pussy made your body snap. All self control vanished as a climax arose. A forceful release of cum is shot into Steve’s mouth. Your legs kick the air with your body arching back. It felt so god damn good, and Steve knew it. The wet release seeps away out of his mouth whilst he catches as much as he could. Your cunt flutters and squirts with endless joy. Your body shudders while you pant every breath. As you settled down, Steve licks around the remaining spots that were covered in your cum. He slurps it all up before he towers over you, examining your exhausted face. You loved to see his massive figure above yours since it turned you on so easy.

Your lover praises, “You taste amazing. Ya gettin’ tired yet?”

Although your voice sounded faint, you cup his cheek and whisper, “M-more…”

Fox giggled and sends a kiss to your temple, “Anything for you, dove.”

He kisses your flushed cheek and pulls his dick back out, pumping it for an erection. Your hands lazily roam around his muscles, becoming touchy. You trace an index finger over his arm scar, the one obtained from the labs of the Mishima Zaibatsu. Steve then aligns his cock towards your already soaked womanhood. You hold him by the shoulders with breathing turning heavy again. Pressing the tip, Steve slides in your entry with a groan. You were just as tight, no different from last time. The small veins along his cock, they caught a moan out of you. Steve licks his lips and begins to penetrate. Legs are wrapped over his waist in an attempt to get him close.

One of his hands knead your waist softly, trying his best to turn you on once more. Though this wasn’t necessary, he would succeed doing so. You cooed in a moan as you were panting at one another. The area felt so hot to the point that layers of sweat formed. Your boyfriend’s teeth clench from your tightness. He throbs around you while your pussy flutters, the wet sounds of skin ramming each other. Steve leans in to pepper kisses on your face, then moves close towards your ear. He’ll go on to whisper such pleasing words as part of his love language. How much he loved you, the ways you two were satisfying in return, all of that you wished to be eternal.

“You mean so much to me, (Y/N). I love you, ya know that?” he voiced between his breaths.

“Mm, Steve! I-I love you too!”

“I love you…”

Steve embraces you and bites into your neck, sucking on the skin. His thrusts got as quick as they could, eventually leading you to mewl nonstop. You and Steve were about to cum again. Nails claw into his back due to how large his size felt. The boxer nips off of your skin, leaving a visible hickey. You throw your head back and pant for air. A sudden feeling of your abdomen was about to snap.

A few more hits.

Then again.

Finally once more, and heavy amounts of ejaculate erupt from your bodies. A wail of moans sounded in the bedroom. Your own fluids spray against his abdomen while his hot load is aimed through your sex. Steve pounds you a few extra times for the rest to spill out. Your body trembles on the bed, turning into motionless putty underneath him. He huffs out a few breaths and carefully pulls out. He sprawls on his back to catch his breath. Sweat falls down his forehead as he runs his fingers through his hair. Steve looks at your tired state before scooting over and laying on his side. He luckily still has enough stamina as long as he watched his physique. Compared to him, you were fragile, and he treated you delicately. He must have thought that he went a little too rough, yet you never complained once.

You look up at him, eyes lidded and face red hot. Steve gave a soft smile and caresses your cheek with his knuckles. He inches his lips to yours until sending a light kiss.

“After a minute or so, I’ll help you into the shower,” he tells you as he began to pet your hair, “You can lean on me if you’d like. I probably went kinda rough on you, haven’t I?”

“No, you were perfect. I want to do this again someday…”

Steve chuckled, “Alright then.”

[madisonfilmss]

I Am Yours - austin x reader

Inspired by I Am Yours by Andy Grammer 

You would always be proud of Austin for chasing his dreams. You were proud to have a front row seat to his life changing. Most of the time. It was days like this you feel unworthy to be loved by Austin. It’s currently 10:30 your time which means it’s about 6:00 am Australia time. You haven’t been able to talk to him since yesterday morning due to your conflicting schedules. You would have gone with him to Australia but you had business back home you had to be present for. 

You have a tendency to overthink the littlest things, not just with your boyfriend but in general. If someone’s tone is off, you notice it and then think about it for the next month so not talking to Austin for as long as you have makes you believe the worst. 

He’s found somebody else. 

I should have gone with him. 

He forgot about me. 

Your phone rings and you look to see Austin’s contact photo flash on the screen. Your mood is ruined now. He’s gonna pick up on it. You can’t do it right now. You decline the call hoping to pull yourself together but Austin doesn’t give you the chance because he calls you back immediately. 

There’s nothing you can do because you know if you decline it again, he’s gonna be upset with you because you aren’t answering his calls. 

You slide your finger across the screen, his bright smile lighting up the screen. You decided to keep the phone laying on your desk, hoping to gain your composure before having Austin see you upset. 

“Hi love.” Austin says as the phone call connects. 

“Hi love.” you reply 

“Where’s my girl?” he asks curiously

“I have a lot of work to do tonight, babe. I’m so sorry.” 

Honestly you were doing whatever possible to get him to hang up. You wanted to overthink in peace. Maybe even sob into a pint of ice cream, 

“I know you and I know that’s a lie. You always make sure to have your work done just in case I call you.” 

Damn it. He knows you too damn well. 

“Not to mention, you haven’t made eye contact with me once. You only do that when you’re thinking. When you’re thinking, I lose my girl.”

“Austin, I’m fine.” you say trying to get him to focus on something other than you. 

“Hey, no, we don’t do that. Talk to me.” 

“It’s stupid.” 

“That is the furthest thing from the truth. If it’s on your mind, I would really like to be let in so I am able to help you. I understand if you don’t want to tell me everything right away. All I ask is for a little insight. It doesn’t have to be much.” 

“I understand.” you say. You take a moment to finally make eye contact with him. You realize what people mean when they say “Eyes are the windows to the soul.” As you look at Austin, you realize that his soul is made up entirely of you. 

What are you doing? Why aren’t you talking to him? He’s here for you. 

“If you need a minute, I’m happy to just sit here with you. You are allowed to tell me as little or as much as you would like. Take all the time you need.” 

You nod before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, 

“It’s just– I’m not there with you and the time difference and the headlines and gossip. It makes me feel like you’re going to forget me. I’ve seen the paparazzi photos, Austin. You and Olivia look pretty damn cozy.” you take a breath trying to calm yourself down. 

You didn’t realize how upset you actually were about this whole situation. 

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.” you say as you make eye contact with Austin. 

“Love, you have every right to be upset. I completely understand. Would I like you here by my side every minute? Yes. Do I wish when I got anxious before press and events you were by my side? Yes. Do I wish afterwards it was just the two of us? More than anything.” 

“Austin, please.” you practically beg him. You already feel bad enough not being there with him. 

“Just let me finish. There is a point to this. I promise.” he says. 

You look at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“I also know that you are kicking ass back at home and as much as I wish you were here with me, I could not be more proud of you.” 

Your eyes were welling with tears. 

“For years I have been lost. Lost without you. I didn’t understand what my purpose was in this life. But I know who I am now. I am yours.” 

You were full on sobbing now. 

“I am yours now and always. I wouldn’t dream to be anything more. You take my breath away every time. I honestly still can’t believe it when you say you’re mine.” 

This distance was hard on both of you but moments like this makes you stop and realize that you don’t want anybody else. 

“Love, I don’t think you will ever truly know how much you saved me. It was the first time that you smiled at me. I knew right then that I was put on this earth to love you.” 

“I will tell you that as much as I need to in order for you to believe it. I love you so much.” 

“I love you more than you know.” 

You were going to bed that night wondering how you got so lucky to be loved by Austin. 

[cumsuga]

Wasted Times - A Valentine's Day Special

jungkook x fem!reader

genre: SMUT, fluff, angst, romance

warnings: Losing of virginities, Sweetboy!Jungook, fingering, Jungkook has a thigh kink lowkey, unprotected sex (Please be smart and be safe, use a condom), mentions of Plan B, choking, blood, I tried to make the first time fluffy

word count: 3k

18+(Minors DNI)

You set the last of your boxes in your dorm room. You look around the room triumphantly; you did it, you flew across the world to go to school, and thankfully you get to spend all four years here. You never thought you’d get accepted into Yonsei University because your extracurriculars were nothing extraordinary, just cheer and volleyball. Your dad was also so happy for you that he decided to pay your way through college only on the condition that you use your degree to find a job straight away after you graduate. Which you're okay with, it's the least you could do, considering.

As you're standing there taking in your victory, someone who you assume is your roommate comes in. She's gorgeous, almost too pretty to be an actual human. You're staring at her in bi-panic. 

"Hi, you're Y/N, right? We emailed about being roommates. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She smiles brightly at you. She’s radiant and so damn attractive.

“Oh, yeah, Momo, right? Do you need help moving anything in?” She shakes her head and tells you her parents paid for the movers. 

“So we didn't really get to discuss a whole lot in email, but tell me more about yourself, Y/N” she plops herself on your bed, looking exhausted from doing nothing, but again she’s so pretty you’re absolutely distracted.

She props herself up on her elbows to look at you, “Oh well, uh, I just moved here from Y/C, and I’m double majoring in Korean and Business Administration, with a minor in Music Composition. What about you?” you unpack a box, and start setting up your side of the room.

“I’m Momo Hirai, obvi. I’m 19 and from Japan. My major is also Business Admin. I’m also in dance. Part of my scholarship is for dance, btw. OH! On the way up here, I heard there is going to be a huge party to welcome the frosh class. It’s two weeks after syllabus week. We should go.” You look at her with wide eyes. You’re not a huge partier, never having good experiences during high school. 

Honestly, high school was hell for you. It didn’t matter how affluent your family was; you being the ‘weird’ girl that liked anime and manga always made you the butt of everyone's joke, not to mention that you didn't really grow into your body until senior year. Then, everyone wanted you, but by then, you were over the high school bullshit and ready to go to college. So now here you are, and hopefully, things are different here.

“Well, I’m not much of a partier, but I’ll give it a chance, I guess.” You smile at her, setting your laptop on your desk. She's clapping her hands in excitement. 

Syllabus week flies by, and you’ve spotted a couple of cuties in your statistics class. One stood out more than the others. A few times, you caught him staring at you when you went to talk to your professor about assignments. His big doe-like eyes, so pretty and gentle looking, you decide to get his number. You walk up to him after class, trying to muster all the courage you need to talk to him.

You tap him on the shoulder, and the minute he turns around, your mind goes blank, “Hi, uh….” He's giving you an empathetic look but is smiling, waiting for you to say something, but you don't. The silence is getting awkward. So he speaks up.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook. I’ve seen you around. What's your name?” We cocks his head to meet your eyes that have been staring at his shoes since he started talking.

“I— I’m Y/N. I’m sorry, I’ve never really talked to a guy. before..” Your cheeks are the deepest shade of red. Who did you think you were? You tried to hype yourself up but failed miserably, and now you’re embarrassed.

“You’re so cute.” He chuckles sweetly, “You don’t have to be embarrassed or shy. I don’t bite.” 

You smile at him, finally making eye contact, “I was going to ask for your number. You’re kind of handsome, so I got flustered.” You're fidgeting absent mindedly.

“Making the first move, my kinda girl. Of course, I’ll give you my number. It's 82XXXXXXXXXX. I have to go now but text me. Maybe we can go on a date or something. Bye, Y/N” He smiles and then exits the classroom. 

Over the next few days, you and Jungkook text all day and all night, even falling asleep on facetime with each other. You like him a lot, so you ask him to accompany you to the ‘Frosh Fest.’ From what he says, it’s a week of partying and drinking; the college sponsors get everyone to mingle and unwind after the first couple of weeks on campus. The graduating class is the host and usually the one to plan the festival. You tell him you don’t drink much, so it’d be nice to have someone you could talk to there because Momo tells you her girlfriend is flying from Japan to see her, having taken a gap year to travel. 

The week of the festival comes. You and momo are in your dorm room getting ready when Jungkook calls, “Hi, I think I’m outside your room. Are you ready?”

You get giddy and immediately open the door, and there he is, the most beautiful man you’ve laid your eyes on. In all black, a myriad of tattoos peaking out of the cuff of his jacket. You’re also wearing all black, your luscious thighs peeking out of a black miniskirt. And you watch his eyes rake over you stopping on your thighs for a little longer than the rest of your body.

“God... you look… Magnificent.” He swallows thickly, mouth watering at the sight of you.

You spin in a circle pouting slightly. “Really? I don't think I care for the skirt. Come in, though. I think I might change.” He joins you and momo in the room before she tells you that her girlfriend is downstairs waiting for her, so she leaves.

You start going through all your skirts before deciding on a black Louis Vuitton wool mini skirt. “You mind if I change?” looking over at him, he’s blushing. Looking like a tomato, “You okay?”

“Uhm yeah, I’m fine. We’ve just never seen each other… naked.” He awkwardly adjusts on the bed, and you smile, throwing a pillow at him.

“You dork, I have shorts on under this.” Then a thought crosses your mind; maybe you want him to see you naked, be your first. Yeah, you know you’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, but you feel comfortable with him. He’s never once pressured you for anything sexual, nor has he ever touched you before asking. He was a true gentleman, and you knew it.

“Unless you wanna see me naked..” You move to stand between his legs, “Is that what you want, Koo?” You gingerly slot your fingers through his hair, and he nods. “Take it off for me?” His fingertips ghost over your thigh, leaving burning goosebumps in their wake.

You shudder at his touch, every stroke going straight to your clit. His hands slip under your skirt to pull your safety shorts down. “First, let's get rid of these, yeah?” he squeezes your thigh, groaning at how soft the flesh is. "Where do you want me to touch you?"

You moan softly at the motion, “I… I don't know, Koo… anywhere.” he untucks your shirt from your skirt, splaying his hand across the pudge of your tummy.

“Here?” he asks, moving his hand to your breastbone, fingers fiddling with the front clasp of your bra. You nod sheepishly, cheeks and ears heating up. He hastily takes your shirt off and tosses it aside. “So pretty, always thought you were pretty. I couldn't stop staring at you when I first laid my eyes on you in class—imagining how you’d look on your knees in front of me, choking on my dick. I know you’d look so fucking beautiful blowing me.” you’re clenching around nothing, eyes glazed over in lust. Jungkook knows what he’s doing.

“Can I ask you something?” eyeing him lazily, ready for him to touch you for real.

“Anything, baby girl.” he leans in, leaving open-mouth kisses on your tummy. Looking up at you as he does.

You cringe at the initial contact of his mouth, legs starting to feel like they’re going to give out. “Are you a virgin?” he stops what he’s doing, bringing you back down from the cloud you were just on.

“I mean, I’ve had my dick sucked, but I’ve never been inside someone, so technically, yes. Are you?” You nod quickly, getting shy all over again. “That's fine with me, but I don't have condoms... So I was just–”

“I’m on the pill!” You blurt out. You don't want him to stop. You want to feel him. He makes you feel safe and protected.

His head snaps at you, and he chuckles softly, “Well. I’m clean, the campus does free STD screenings every other month, and I got checked about 2 months ago and haven't been with anyone since. So if you’re okay with it, I am too. We can buy Plan B in the morning.” You nod again. 

“O–okay.” You’re shy again, so he coos at you.

He pulls you to straddle him, “So funny, baby girl, you were the one to initiate, and now look at you, all shy and blushy.” He leans in to kiss you, your first kiss. You feel electricity light up your body and you hope he feels it too. 

You shift on his lap, accidentally creating friction for you both, causing you to moan into his mouth and for him to grip your ass. Fingernails leave crescents in your skin. “Stand up.” He moves you, and you stand. When you get up, his lips find yours helping you get undressed, and you do the same. When you're both in nothing but your underwear, he picks you up and gently lays you on the bed.

“Listen to me, okay? If you ever feel uncomfortable with anything, just tell me, and I’ll stop. Sex is supposed to be enjoyable for the both of us, and I don’t wanna do anything to hurt you.” he cups your cheek, looking into your eyes, looking for the slightest bit of doubt. When he doesn’t find it, he goes back to kissing you slowly, making your clit throb.

His hand plays with the little pink bow on the front of your panties, “Can I touch you?” You agree, and he slips his hand into your panties, fingers slipping quickly between your folds, “Fuck you’re soaked... That's so fucking hot. All I did was kiss you. Shit.” You snap your thighs together when he finds your clit. “You like that?”

“Yeah.. feels good..” you begin to squirm under his ministrations. He’s just watching you, the way soft moans leave your mouth, making him hard. 

“Can I put one in?” fingertip prodding the tight hole of your entrance. You nod feverishly, and he pushes one in slowly.

You groan at the feeling. Burning and slightly uncomfortable, but you know you'd have to get used to it. “You okay?” you feel his palm bump your clit, and you tell him you’re okay, that it just burns a little. “Well, baby, that's cause you’re so tight. I’m gonna wait for a little before I move my finger. Let me know when it stops burning, okay?”

You give him the go-ahead, and he begins to fuck his finger into you slowly while his thumb rubs lazy circles on your clit. You're squirming under him and moaning into his mouth while he kisses you. Eventually, he adds a second finger going a little harder this time, and you can feel this heaviness in the pit of your stomach. He hits a particular spot in you that causes the loudest moan to leave your mouth.

“Keep doing that. That's good. I like that. It feels so fucking good.” He keeps curling his fingers into you, beckoning your impending orgasm, and after a few minutes of him finger fucking you like that, your orgasm hits you. You bite him, moaning into the crook of his neck, legs shaking as you come down.

“You look so pretty when you cum. I could watch you do that forever.” He pulls his fingers out and pops them in his mouth, moaning at your taste. “I could also taste you forever.”

Your cheeks rose and you move your hand to touch his dick and squeeze it too hard, causing him to pull his hips away. “Too hard, baby, don’t squeeze too hard.” He guides you on how to touch him, and when you find a good rhythm, he's a moaning mess, lashes fluttering.

“Should we try it now?” You ask him, and he looks over to you, jaw slack from you, jerking him off. “I want to feel it inside me..” hiding your face in his chest, he moves to hover over you.

“Okay, I’m not going to lie to you. I might not last long.” He moves to look at what he's doing, and you watch as he lines himself up with your entrance. “You ready?”

You nod, and he struggles a little before finding your entrance and pushing himself in. Both of your moaning softly in unison. “Go slow... It burns a lot.” Unfortunately, Jungkook was girthy and long. The stretch was going burning regardless of how slow or fast he went. He bottoms out and stays there for a bit. His breath shaky in your ear.

“You’re clenching so hard. It feels too good. I’m trying so hard not to nut right now.” He licks and sucks on your neck to distract himself. “Good, I just know you got good pussy. Gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your heart flutters at his last words. No one has ever associated you and being in love together. You know it’s stupid, but you can’t help but fall for him.

You kiss him, which he takes as a sign to start moving inside you. He’s fucking you slowly, ensuring you feel all of him. He finds that kissing you distracts him from how wet and tight you are. You’re like his little slice of heaven right now, and he wants to savor the cake. At this point, he knows he's gonna have scratch marks all over his back with how much you’re clawing at him to keep him close.

“Yeah, that feels good. I like feeling you inside me.” You keen in his ear softly as he picks up his pace, watching your face contort in pleasure. You're so fucking hot to him, so sweet too. He likes you and thinks he’s dumb for the thought, but he could see himself with you forever. 

“You’re taking me so fucking well, baby girl. It’s like this pussy was made for me.” He’s thrusting into you like a wildman. The burning has been replaced by pure, 100% pleasure. He’s right. It’s like you were made for him. Immediately taking all of him with almost no problem. 

“Yeah, made for you... Only you. Ruin me, make me yours.” He stills inside you, looking at you in awe.

“You’re… You’re fucking nasty. Holy shit, you're so fucking hot. Can I choke you?” You nod, and he raises his hand to choke you, grip on your throat just enough to throw you right over the edge. Clenching around him like crazy, you feel him twitching inside you, his hips starting to thrust into you lazily. He thrusts into you a couple more times before he coats your walls in his seed. He collapses on you, both of you breathing heavily, lying there in silence.

“How was it?” You ask him, running your fingertips up and down the dip of his spine. He kisses your cleavage. You feel so blissful, and even if he doesn't respond, you think you could lay like this forever.

“It was good, like really good.” He sits up, and his lower half is coated in a mixture of cum and blood, and his eye widen. “Oh my god, are you okay? This is a lot of blood.”

You’re calm and collected, unlike him, “You broke my hymen, and I’m sure you ripped me a bit. I mean, your dick is big, and I’ve never had sex before. Don’t worry, I’m fine. Let's get cleaned up and head to the festival?” You move to stand, but your legs are wobbly, and your pussy is sore.

Nonetheless, Jungkook is super gentle in getting you all cleaned up, making sure to get the spots where the cum has dried up on you. You two eventually collected yourselves enough to get to the festival. You two have the best time, and you come out of your shell with him. Getting along with his friends and their girlfriend. 

After a month of dating, Jungkook asks you to be his girlfriend, and of course, you say yes. Junior year Jungkook asks you to move in with him as he will graduate soon, and he doesn't want your relationship to end over it. You tell him you can’t because while your dad adores him, he wants you to focus on school and graduate before moving in together. You assure him you'll go to see him every weekend you are free. Senior Year, the day after graduation, Jungkook asks again, and you agree because now you can be together freely. A year after moving in together, he proposes to you, stating he’s in love with you and wants to be with you forever, among other beautiful words. You turn him down, telling him you two are still too young to settle down, you being 21 and him being 23. You tell him you’re his, but you’re not ready for that kind of commitment yet, and woefully he accepts your rejection. After another year of living together, Jungkook starts his business, and you two buy a home together. You start at HYBE as an assistant, and things are so shitty you fall into some bad habits. But let’s see where life takes you.

AN: please send me your thoughts on this and the first two parts I need some constructive criticism if you have it, my inbox is open. thank you all for enjoying the first two. I'm having a lot of fun writing these!!!

© @cumsuga 2016-2024. All rights reserved. — Unauthorized use or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating, and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. DO NOT USE MY CONTENT FOR ANY AI PURPOSES WHAT SO EVER

credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers

[heavyhitterheaux]

Don't Believe His Lies

Jessica's Tale as told by @nattinatalia

Heaux Tales of Jack Harlow

I don’t know how it happened, but it did and it was so fast.

I don’t know if it was his blue eyes that pulled me in. His smile probably, or the way he carries himself, But I fell hard and I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same for anybody else.

I met Jack three years ago in San Diego, I was working at a club he was hosting and performing at. I was the bottle girl, yeah how poetic is that? All night long he kept eyeing me and trying to get my attention with little touches here and there whenever I would go up to his section, but I was working so I paid him no mind.

Paying him no attention? That’s an ego killer for a man like him, he’s always confident and so sure of himself. But he loved the chase and so did I. It started with gifts, trips and whispers of sweet words. It went on for about a month until I finally gave in and we’ve been together ever since.

“Babe, I just don’t understand why? We’ve been together for almost two years, why can’t we talk about taking the next step?” You’re straddling his lap, his hands on your waist while he’s looking at his phone.

Jack had arrived in my hometown two hours ago and said he would be staying for the weekend. But I’ve been missing him like crazy, I’ve been moody due to my period and I was just picking fights.

“And what next step is that? We’re together, this apartment is ours, that car in the garage is yours, those gifts I brought with me? All yours, so what next step are you talking about?”

I roll my eyes at his words, “Bro, that’s materialistic things I could care less about. I appreciate the gifts but I’m talking about actually settling down, moving in together. Not what we’re doing now, you come and go every two weeks and it’s not because of your schedule, I see your Instagram stories when you’re back in your hometown with your friends.”

“First of all, don’t call me bro Jessica. Second of all, I told you I’m just not ready to do all of that. What’s the point of moving you to my hometown when I’m about to start my tour and I’ll barely be home. It’s best if you stay here, surrounded by your friends and family.”

I make a face at that so he pulls me in closer “Baby, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that this year I’ll be busy non stop more than ever. I need you to stay here so you don’t feel lonely if I do move you in with me.”

I shrug, “I wouldn’t feel lonely if I met your mom.”

“You’ve met my mom, crazy girl.”

I nod, “You introduced me to her as Urban’s friend, not your girlfriend and it was a five minute conversation.”

“Did I? Well I’m sorry mamas. But stop, come on I’m only here for the weekend and since I walked in you’ve been picking a fight.”

You roll your eyes “And you’ve been on your phone the second you got here. Who are you texting so much?”

“Jessica seriously? It’s work stuff.”

I go to get off his lap but he holds me in place. “I’m just needy, I miss you and I’m in my feelings. I need reassurance about us.”

“Jess, me being here isn’t reassuring enough to you?” He gives me a kiss and squeezes my thighs. “Let’s just enjoy the weekend, let me go to the Mexican restaurant you love so much, two blocks from here and I’ll get food, while you set up here for a movie or shit, I’ll even let you play those two shows you love so much. I have plans for the entire weekend, baby, let’s not ruin it.”

You smile, “You’re willing to watch Sons of Anarchy and Mayans MC with me? Oh that’s love right there.”

He smiles, “I do love your annoying ass.”

“I love you too, now hurry up.” I get off his lap. “Today they close early. Get me an order of tacos de adobada, and a California burrito with a Horchata please.”

He stands up and heads for his keys and wallet “I’ll be quick.” He gives me a quick kiss and walks out the door.

**********

Ten minutes later I’m done setting everything up in the living room when there’s a knock on the door.

I chuckle “Did you lose your keys or what?” I go to open the door thinking it was Jack, but I see no one, I look to both sides and see no one is there, but an envelope on the floor caught my attention.

I go to pick it up and walk back inside and start opening it up.

Nothing could prepare me for what I saw.

Pictures.

Lots of pictures of Jack with different women.

The cherry on top?

This mother fucker is married and with kids.

I don’t know how long I stood there, looking through every picture. Everything was timed and dated so there’s no way these are old, he’s even wearing a chain I got him last year for Christmas in a most recent picture.

Seeing him with all these other women was hard, but what broke me was seeing the pictures of him and his family.

Never in my life did I ever think I’d be or wanted to be a homewrecker, I would never get involved with a married man.

This is how Jack found me, a crying mess in the middle of my living room, pictures scattered all over the coffee table.

“Baby?”

“Jessica, what’s wrong mamas?”

I look up at him. “Do you not see what’s on the table?”

He looks confused and goes to pick up a picture “W-what is this shit? Are you spying on me?”

I stand up and glare at him. “That’s what you have to say? Am I spying on you? Jackman you’re married, fucking married and with beautiful children.”

“Jess-“

I shake my head “No, no fuck you. How can you do this to me? To them? Two years, two fucking years and not only with me, with numerous of women too. How can you do that and go back to your family like nothing?”

“If you just let me explain-“

“Explain what? There’s no explanation to any of this mess. The proof is all there.” I point at the pictures. “I’m not spying on you by the way, that was left on my doorstep.”

“These are old pictures baby, you have to believe me. I love you and I’m here with you.”

I chuckle “Nice try, those are recent. Do you want me to show you the videos that came into my email? Having to watch a glimpse into what I thought you only do with me?”

“Jess baby, let’s sit down and talk about this.”

I shake my head. “No, get out.”

“What?”

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT.” I yell.

“You played me, you played them. This is fucked up in so many ways. Y-you lied to me, you broke me. This is not something we sit down and talk about.”

I’m a crying mess, I feel my heart beating so fast, I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack. “Baby, calm down, breathe for me.”

“DO NOT TOUCH ME. GET OUT!!!!”

“Jess”

I look at him then push at his chest, “Leave please. If you have any little respect or love for me like you claim you do. Please leave.” I go to sit down on the couch looking down at my hands.

I hear him walking back and forth between the bedroom and living room. Probably getting his stuff

“I’ll check in on you later, I do love you pretty girl. Never forget that.” He comes towards me and I feel him kiss the top of my head and with that he walks out.

I let more tears out, I get up from the couch and grab the pictures and start ripping every single one of them.

I yell.

I cry.

I break things.

I burn the remaining of the pictures.

I threw his clothes out the balcony.

I cry some more.

I’m broken, I’m hurt.

I loved him.

I thought he was the man I would eventually settle down with, get married and have kids.

But I couldn’t do that with a man who was already married and with kids.

One thing is for sure though, I’m going to make sure the rest of the women know who they’re dealing with.

They don’t deserve this.

His wife doesn’t deserve this.

His kids definitely don’t deserve this.

Your mom was right, when she told you, you don’t fall in love at the club.

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

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@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

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@carma-fanficaddict

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@jacksmoviestar

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@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@jackmansbabymama

@cmalass

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@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

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@automaticpeachsong

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@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow​

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

[iguessitsjustme]

Love Sea Ep 3 Thoughts

I just had the kind of day that makes you fall back in love with life a little bit. So what better time to watch Love Sea than right now? I will say I have been warned that certain parts of this episode will make me angry. So odds are, if you like the show, you won’t like my thoughts. But I’ll go in with an open mind. Episode 2 was fine. Right? Right. Anyway, just in case, if you click the read more and you don’t like what I say…that’s on you. You were warned. So let’s do this thing. Episode 3 time.

This time the movie I watched before this show didn’t have literally the best sound mixing I’ve ever heard in my entire life. So I think my ears are safe this time. It won’t be good but at least I’m not going from the best to…this.

IQIYI translate texts challenge 2k24. I said it last time and I’ll say it again. I am very skilled. I have many talents. Reading Thai is not one of them. What’s the point of paying for this streaming service if they’re only gonna half ass the subs? Anyway. Give the translators a raise and hire more of them. Or face my wrath in the form of one tiny little post under a read more on the internet that you will never see. But you should feel my scorn. Feel it!

Rak better keep his glasses. I swear if Rak loses his glasses….

It is raining in the show so I feel the need to tell y’all that I bought two umbrellas today! They were both on clearance. Isn’t that great? My collection grows.

Oh also IQIYI translate the fucking spoken words too challenge??? Girl what is going on.

I have no context for this line. Zero. Why are they talking about her boobs? What is happening in the rest of the conversation. Cause I also can’t speak Thai. I wish I could. That language is simply not in my wheelhouse.

I could be watching the Stray Kid’s cover of Sherlock for the millionth time but instead I’m listening to a Thai phone call that means nothing to me. All I know is she mentioned her boobs.

Noisy drunk street people go home challenge. Go home and stop conversatin right outside my apartment. Do that elsewhere. You have now left the bar cause it’s closed. My apartment is not open for business so I don’t know why you’re loitering outside it. Time to blast some kpop real quick. That typically works. Oh they left before I got to play any music. They must have a sixth sense.

Thank god I got this conversation fully subbed. The fuck is up with his dad? Actually. You know what? I don’t want to know. Whatever it is, it’s bad. And I don’t want that. I don’t trust MAME to do trauma actually. Well. I trust MAME will do trauma but I don’t trust her to do it well.

I STILL CAN’T READ THAI.

I did not gain that skill in the last 15 minutes. Why are they doing this to me specifically?

I am enjoying this song a whole lot.

Why are we getting flashbacks in every episode? MAME is a better writer than this. Why is she relying so heavily on flashbacks? I’m so confused.

Rak, do not go to a secondary location with that man. Dear Mut, what the fuck? He has said no. That is a complete sentence. And believe it or not, he does not need to explain it to you. He was being generous by telling you why he said no. But you are going to force him to go somewhere else? Have you considered I hate you and will kick you right in the balls?

The music is trying to convince me this is romantic but honestly I’m just confused.

THEY DIDN’T EVEN WEAR HELMETS. And then my soul was launched from my body straight into the sun and I feel nothing anymore.

Oh to be stargazing on a beach while laying next to a hot boy and having deep conversations about life. Oh if only that were me. Hey real quick, anyone want to go stargazing with me? I’ve never been stargazing and I think I should do it. 

I’ve only been watching this episode for 23 minutes. I thought it was almost over. This shit is dragging. The directing in this show needs significant work. There is not enough movement on screen in far too many scenes. Even when We Are had two characters (Tan and Fang) just standing and talking, it wasn’t difficult to watch because they were both constantly moving. Well, mostly Tan. But Fang did too. There was something for the eye to catch. Something to watch. With Love Sea, they have Rak and Mut just stand and talk, or sit and talk, or lay down and talk, and there is not nearly enough movement. They need to be doing something. I am moving more just sitting on my ass on my couch (shoveling cake in my mouth) while I watch than these two are doing on screen and that is a directorial problem. Imagine working with an established actor pair who are known partially for their chemistry together and just…having them lay there. I was prepared to go into this show mad at it for the typical MAME reasons but honestly, I’m mostly mad that the show elements are bad. The writing is not up to MAME’s usual standard and the directing is ass. The music is par for the course and I’m more objective about it this week at least.

FINALLY. Some movement. God that took forever.

It must be nice to be able to read Thai and know what the fuck is being said.

People stop reading over Rak’s shoulder. Let him have some privacy. The fuck?

If someone forcibly made me cover up like that on a hot day, I would pull a gun outta my ass and shoot them. It is HOT. I am SWEATY. Let me BREATHE.

MUT. NO DOES ME NO. BUT NOT WHEN YOU’RE TRYING TO OVERRIDE SOMEONE’S AUTONOMY. LET RAK’S TITS BREATHE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. LET THEM BREATHE.

Save Mook. Seriously. Save her.

Horny boys.

This scene would have far more emotional impact if we had any more time with these characters. Literally we started the episode with Rak refusing to go somewhere with Mut and being forced to go. And now he’s willing to stay? Doesn’t he believe love is a figment of the imagination? Did that fucking change? Did we see that change? Was it in one of the texts I couldn’t read?

I’m not…angry at this show. I mean Mut is never gonna be my favorite and neither is Rak, but MAME has had far worse cough cough PrapaiSky cough cough This show’s problem is actually the worst problem a show can have: it’s boring. I’m bored. The writing is lazy, the directing is abysmal, and honestly the sound mixing thinks it’s doing something and utterly failing. Those are the only three things I feel I’m knowledgeable enough to comment on but I’m sure the rest isn’t great either. I’m upset that I can’t even be mad at the characters. Cause it’s all so boring. When did I go back in time to get a BL that was so poorly written as to be a joke? It’s 2024. I refuse to believe this is what they put together. For all its faults, LITA was at least entertaining. At least it didn’t ruin my lovely day. I am gonna go get ready for bed now because unfortunately, I have to work in the morning. Oh to have a summer off. Oh to go to the sea and stargaze at the beach. I can’t believe this show managed to make even that boring.

[steviesbicrisis]

After they start dating, Eddie refuses to call Steve the nickname baby because he already calls his guitar that and “she was here first Stevie”

Steve never had a thing for pet names before.

Being used to dating girls, sometimes they would call him "honey" or "babe" but nothing more. And he never was one to call any of his dates by something different than their name.

He even shuddered when he heard other couples being all lovely dovely, with 600 different pet names one more disgustingly sweet than the other.

So, the only logical explanation is to blame Eddie for this.

He never even considered guys before he called him "big boy", so it seems only fair to give him credit for this new fixation he got.

Steve got to the point where he could admit it to himself, but to anyone else? especially Eddie? not a chance.

"I can hide it easily," he tells himself.

Except that no, he can't. Eddie throws all types of nicknames at him ("big boy" and "pretty boy" being his favorite ones to use) and Steve's heart skips a bit every time.

He acts like the pet name doesn't affect him, but he always takes a couple of seconds before replying to Eddie, sometimes he stutters or looks away, and Eddie knows why. So he does it even more.

At one point Steve can't help but notice that Eddie has never used "baby", not even once. It shouldn't even be that big of a deal, but just the idea of Eddie calling him baby makes him feel hot all over.

Now, every time Eddie calls him something, Steve is waiting for "baby", but it never comes. Even the other nicknames lose their effects on him, and Eddie notices this too.

«What is going on with you?» he asks, seeing Steve's pout at being called "cutie".

«Nothing»

«I don't think so, sweetheart» Eddie teases.

Steve groans «you never call me baby!» he admits, out of frustration.

«oh» Eddie stares at him, then grins «I didn't think you liked pet names that much.»

Steve rolls his eyes «I don’t know what your talking about.»

«Whatever you say, pretty boy.»

Eddie busies himself sorting out his tape collection, leaving Steve unhappy with the abrupt end of their conversation.

«So, why don’t you?» Steve asks, after a few minutes of silence.

«So why don’t I, what?»

Steve really hates him for making him say it.

«Why do you never call me baby?»

«oh I’m sorry Stevie» he keeps his attention on the tapes, but he’s clearly enjoying the conversation «but baby is reserved for a very special lady.»

«what.»

«I think you heard me very well»

«Who is she??» Steve sputters, outraged.

«You can meet her now, wait one second» he disappears into his bedroom.

A million thoughts go through Steve’s mind in the few seconds Eddie is away.

Isn’t Eddie gay? Did he get that wrong? Why would he mention a lady only now? Was she hiding in his closet or something? How mad should he be?

His worries come to a halt once Eddie enters the room, carrying his guitar. Finally Steve understands.

«Oh, fuck you Eds! Seriously»

«Steve, meet my baby, the love of my life!»

«I fucking hate you»

«I’m sorry Stevie, she was here first.»

[metamorphosisff]

|Seven| Breaking Patterns

“Wait!”

I’m running, knees to chest down fourth ave, towards the van on the corner. Xavier was just stepping inside when he heard my voice frantically yell ‘wait’ over and over again. It’s not my fault that I am late but in this situation it won’t matter. Courts don’t care about obnoxious bosses that didn’t let you go until a replacement arrived. There is no way I can miss even one day of community service or else my misdemeanor will go on record and my plea deal out of the window. My lungs are burning when I make it to the van and I can see the members of our group staring from the windows. I flash my middle finger which makes a few of them avert their gazes.

“Take a breath, we weren’t going to leave you. Jazz threatened to pretend to stroke out if we did,” Xavier said, causing me to chuckle as I hoisted myself inside. He climbs in behind me and soon we’re off. Today we’re back on the side of some highway picking up trash.

“Thanks for looking out Jazz,” I say, plopping down next to her in the front. Her hair is back in its usual braids and the marvelous nails from last Thursday gone. I wouldn’t waste a good look on community service either.

“I got you Birdie, drink some water before you pass out,” Jazz says, slipping my water bottle out from my bag and pushing it into my hands.

We’re in the middle of a heat wave, my shirt, and pants are clinging to me in the worst of ways. I take several gulps as the van joins midday traffic. Xavier flashes an amused look in my direction but the squint I send back has him focusing back on the attendance sheet on the top of his clipboard. Since we hung out last week we’ve spoken at least once everyday whether through texts or phone calls. Our silent exchange doesn’t go unnoticed by Jazz but she waits until we are armed with pokers and trash bags before her inquisition begins.

“Spill it lil girl,” Jazz says once we find our piece of the side of the road to call our own. We are out of earshot from any elephant ears.

“It’s not that deep, I agreed to let him try to be my friend,” I said, with a shrug. That might be an oversimplification but it’s the gist of the situation thus far. 

“Good, don’t let him just try, let him be. You saw him again after the meeting?” Jazz asked, having sensed our growing closeness. 

“Yeah, last weekend. We went to this food festival at Bryant Park. It was nice, he’s not so bad. We talk on the phone sometimes,” I replied.

“See what happens when you give folks a chance?” Jazz says.

“Ehh not too much on me Jazz. I’m a work in progress,” I chuckled as I tied the garbage bag around a belt loop. It’s easier than trying to fight with it in my hand as I move around.

“As long as you're progressing, that’s all that matters, trust me. I got a good feeling about Mr. Clipboard,” Jazz says, before she starts humming a Donna Summer song.

That’s my cue to take what she’s said and to go on about my business. This is one of those days where we work side by side in comfortable silence and I don’t mind. It allows me to slow down for the first time today. I lose myself in random mental checklists and by the time I’m done so are we. We’re back in the van and are being dumped off in midtown once more. Tonight Xavier teaches, so he doesn’t linger like normal to watch us all get off of the van. He manages to toss me a smile and head nod before heading into his office to grab his stuff. Jazz and I take the trek to the train station on 49th and part ways with a promise to speak later. 

By the time I make it back to my neck of the woods I’m exhausted but not too tired to yell at Papi through the park fence two blocks from our building. “PAPI! Let’s go!”

It’s already close to seven, the basketball court is growing with older kids, and adults which means he no longer needs to be around. He doesn’t question me or plead for more time, simply daps up his friends, and scoops up his bag from a pile on the ground. In less than a minute, he’s jogging by my side, and enveloping me in a sweaty hug.

“Auntie, I'm hungry and Ma’ forgot to leave something. I don’t want cereal,” Papi says, scrunching up his face at the thought.

“I’m making pasta tonight. After you take a shower, come over, and I got you. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” I said.

“Okay, thanks. I thought I was about to be down bad,” he jokes, flashing me a grin.

“Boy please.”

He laughs because he knows I would not let him eat cereal for dinner but being dramatic comes second nature with Mari as his mother. We make quick work of the rest of our short walk before heading into our respective apartments. I take a fast shower, setting the water for the pasta to boil while I wash the grim of the day away. When I finish, I dress in some biker shorts and an oversized Yankees t-shirt I’m pretty sure used to be my father’s. I’m in the middle of placing ground meat into a sauté pan when I hear the front door open and close.

“Papi go in the living room and watch TV. Dinner will be done in like thirty,” I say, adding seasoning to the pan.

“Y’all having dinner without me?” a raspy voice asks, causing me to whip around.

Standing on the other side of the kitchenette counter is my ex Trevor. I frown instantly as I take in the sight of the person I thought I loved. What he and I had was volatile for a lack of better words. We were a season that lasted way too long but his passion is what kept me near. It’s also what ultimately drove me away. He was too possessive and I didn’t like that shit. Case and point, this unwelcomed pop up.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I say, moving closer to the knife block.

“Why did you have the door unlocked?” he chuckles, leaning across the counter. He’s dressed in basketball shorts and a graphic t-shirt. Clothes that will let him move stealthily. I eye the knives once again.

“Trevor. I’m about to treat you like an intruder. The fuck do you want?” I asked.

“Jamila chill out, I didn’t even come to argue with you. I wanted to see how you were doing,” he said, drumming his tan fingers against the counter. His knuckles were bruised which is of no surprise. He is always in a fight, with others and with himself.

“I was doing fine until you got here and I will do better when you leave. I don’t want to talk to you. Make this the last time you come here,” I said.

“Damn, it’s like that? I know we go through our little squabbles but-

“Nah call it what it is, you hit me,” I said, causing him to flinch which incenses me further. How dare he act like a victim. 

“I didn’t mean to do that for real, you were just doing a lot, and it was a reflex. An accident for real baby,” Trevor said, taking a step closer causing me to take a step back. The heat from the stove causes me to move up slightly and I can see him calculating how he’ll close the space between us.

“Do not call me that! It wasn’t an accident, you were sober, and it only needs to happen one time for me to know it’ll happen again. I’m not interested. So you need to leave, if you have any respect for me at all.”

Shaking my head I couldn’t even believe I have to say this but I do because Trevor walks through life thinking everyone should bend to his will. If they didn’t do it of their own volition, he became forceful. Whatever bullshit is about to be spewed from his lips is interrupted by Papi and one of the older boys from downstairs coming in armed with bats.

“Aye Ms. Jamila, you aight?” Carlos asks, as he eyes Trevor. For a fifteen year old, he’s built like a D-1 college football player. Trevor’s lanky frame is no match for this kid’s and he knows it, raising his hands in retreat.

“I’m good love, please escort this nigga off the premises. He seems to be lost,” I said, as Papi goes to hold the door wide open.

“Fine Jamila, I see how it is,” Trevor huffs, marching through the door with Carlos trailing behind him. “Don’t know what I was thinking about coming back to your crazy ass anyway.”

“Me either, good riddance. C, come get a plate in like twenty minutes,” I said, following them until I hit my doorway.

It’s the least I can do for him having to play bodyguard for me. Carlos nods his head but doesn’t take his eyes off of Trevor as they walk down the stairs. 

“Auntie, you good? Do I need to call Ma’?” Papi asks, hugging me tightly.

“No my love, let’s not bother her. I’m okay really, you did me proud. Earned my last icee in the fridge for being brave and calling for help,” I said, running my fingers through his dense curls in an effort to soothe him and myself.

“I never liked that guy Auntie,” he sighed, releasing me so that he could step back inside my apartment. “I hope that’s the last we see of him.”

“Me too Papi, me too.”

His words haunt me, so eerily similar to Xavier’s that day he told me about Sabrina. I’m more like his cousin than he knows. I don’t want her ending. I make a mental note to be more on guard for a while in case Trevor tries to come back a second time. Hopefully he has finally accepted that I am no longer interested.

His visit makes Papi extra clingy tonight as the ten year old insists on sleeping in my living room with the bat by his side instead of in his own bed across the hall. I let Marissa know in a voice note what’s happened before her son can beat me to it. This is one thing I don’t need him exaggerating. When that’s done, I lock up, clean the kitchen, and finally head back into my bedroom. I leave the door cracked like I always do when Papi is over. It’s late but my mind is restless. After a brief debate, I call the one person I know who is awake at this hour.

“‘It must be pigs flying somewhere if you called me first,” is how Xavier picks up the line, chuckling to himself.

“Don’t make me hang up on you,” I said, leaning back into my pillows.

“I kid, I kid. What’s on your mind Jamila?” he asks, with what sounds like the wind blowing in the background.

“Are you still outside?” I reply instead.

“Yeah, I stayed late to walk some students through a few errors made on their last test. Got off the train not too long ago,” he said.

“Ahh okay, I can hear the wind but uh to answer your question, Sabrina is on my mind. The story you told me,” I replied.

I hear his breath catch but he recovers quickly and says, “Expound on that a bit please.”

“Let’s say I have an ex like her boyfriend. He only hit me once and I ended it right after it happened. He popped up in my apartment today. Papi and one of his friends had to save me, and he echoed your words ‘I never liked him’ and it scared the shit out of me. Because deep down, I didn’t even like that man, not for real. He was fun and convenient until he was neither. I could have died because I wanted to be special to someone. How fucked up is that?” I breathe out in one shot.

Each sentence had been tossed over and over again in my mind for the duration of the evening. I may not be on drugs like my parents but I sure as hell have the same self-destructive tendencies coded in my DNA. It left me blind to bad decisions until it was too late.

“It’s not fucked up, it’s human. Wanting human interaction is as normal as sensing a predator. You’ve identified where you went wrong and made the corrections needed, don’t be hard on yourself because he’s stuck in the same pattern,” he said.

His words like his voice are soothing but they don’t sink in at the same rate. While his tone makes me settle more underneath my sheets, his words are working hard to make a chink in my armor.

“That is easier said than done. I have a kid sleeping in my living room because he wants to protect me. It should be the other way around,” I sighed.

“You both protect each other in different ways and that’s beautiful,” he says. I hear keys jingling which means he has finally made it home. “How are you doing now though? I know facing him in your space like that was probably scary. Do you think you should call the police?”

“No, I think he got the hint for real today that it’s over between us but how do I feel?,” I shrugged, as if he could see me. “I was scared at first but I’m annoyed more than anything now that it’s all over. The last few months of my life have been a mess and I don’t want that anymore. I want different, even though I don’t know what that looks like for me yet.”

“Just having the intention to want that for yourself will lead you in the right direction. Keep listening to your gut,” he said.

“I will try my hardest,” I said.

“And let me know if he pops up again. I mean it, Jamila,” he said, making sure to emphasize his words with the following, “You hear me?”

“Yes I hear you, I will let you know,” deciding to let him have the last say on that round. I’ve learned there is no point going back and forth with him when he sounds this determined. So I switched the subject instead. “Sounds like you just got in.”

“Yeah but I won’t sleep for another hour or so. I’m starving,” he chuckles as he moves around, shuffling through his home as he gets settled.

“You’re like a bottomless pit. Where does it all go?” I asked. 

“Ha! I workout a lot, it’s how I deal with stress which in turn has my metabolism through the roof,” he explains.

“Hence the bottomless pit,” I say.

“Hence the bottomless pit,” he repeats, as I hear a water faucet turn on. It sounds as if he’s washing his hands because his voice sounds closer like he’s cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear. “Is it cool if we talk a little more or are you tired?”

Ever since the first night we talked on the phone and I fell asleep, he was always sure to ask me if I was up to staying up. He was considerate in small ways that made me wonder about the large ways in which he could be mindful. 

“Yeah, that’s cool, I’m not tired yet.”

I can practically hear his smile through the phone but don’t call him out on it. Instead, I listen to him launch into a spiel about why I should be watching the Marvel shows on Disney Plus. My shoulders drop for the first time in hours as the tension from earlier melts away. Having another friend isn’t so bad after all.

I underestimated precisely how annoying it was to have more than one friend. They noticed things about you in ways that did not make sense. Xavier had been watching me like a hawk this afternoon and in turn, Jazz had been watching him watch me. Tucking a loose braid behind my ear I squinted my eyes at him but all that earned me was an unbothered smirk. The gesture let me know that he wasn’t going to stop.

“Look at y’all with your own silent language and everything,” Jazz said, pretending to dab at tears.

“Pleaseee. He’s acting like a helicopter parent. Just because I threatened to shove this paint brush up Damon’s– or whatever the fuck that weirdo’s name is– ass, doesn’t mean I’m going to do it,” I said.

Waving her hand in the air, Jazz shook her head. “He gave that ashy boy his walking papers right after you did. That’s not why he’s got his eyes all on you.”

“Probably just being annoying and it’s working because he’s getting on my nerves,” I huff, taking a moment to wipe at my brow.

We were outside painting over walls of graffiti on a commercial block that Chelsea’s gentrified residents had been complaining about. All of this work was in vain. The wall would be tagged again the moment we were out of sight. 

Amused Jazz pauses painting to look over at me, “And pray tell why Mr. Clipboard merely looking at you has you in a tizzy?”

I rolled my eyes. Jazz thought we were both lying to ourselves about having a friendship only. Citing some notion about there being too much chemistry between us. Whatever she was seeing, I had yet to see for myself as Xavier has done a great job at respecting my boundaries. I was growing to appreciate his friendship so a part of me didn’t want to see whatever she was seeing. So I’m going to chalk it up as Jazz  reading into things way too much. 

“He’s being aggravating,” I said loudly, which I heard him chuckle at from a distance.

“Mmhm sure that’s it,” Jazz says, stepping closer to bump her hip with mine. “Listen here Birdie, that man is looking at you like you’re a rare jewel. You’re uncomfortable because no one ever told you that you were precious but you are. You deserve to be admired and you also deserve to enjoy it.”

My chest thumps when her words settle between my ears and start to churn in my mind. She’s speaking on thoughts I haven’t had the time to analyze for myself. They were in me, buried deep, where no light shined because I didn’t have time for those thoughts. I did not have time to think why I was constantly alone or why I became accustomed to being so. I did not have the time now either but I was not as quick to dismiss the ever elusive thoughts of ‘what if’.

“Maybe,” I murmured, bumping her hip with mine. “For now, let’s agree that he’s getting on my nerves.”

“I shall not but I will go back to my podcast while you let what I said simmer,” Jazz chuckles.

It’s just as well because I would not have been paying full attention to anything else in the conversation. She had dropped a bomb on me that took over my thoughts for the remainder of the time we were outside. I still wasn’t quite convinced that Xavier was doing what Jazz claimed. When I dropped my supplies in the back of the van, I pulled him to the side to ask.

“Alright, what’s with the staring,” I said.

He snickered, “Besides getting on your nerves?”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “I knew it.”

“Nah, that was an added bonus,” he smirked, as he readjusted his clipboard underneath his arm. “I was staring because though you said you were okay after ol’ boy popped up, I wanted to make sure you weren’t covering up any aches or pains that aren’t in plain sight.”

His amended answer stills me. The ghost of a stranger looms over my shoulders foreshadowing a future I don’t have to have. I just had to keep choosing myself. 

“Like Sabrina?” I asked softly.

Turning his eyes from the van, they landed on mine as he nodded his head, expression growing serious. “Yeah. I promised myself I’d never let another woman go through something like that on my watch especially if I could see the signs.”

In his gaze I saw the gravity of the vow he took and knew by his tone that he considered me as a woman on his watch. As caveman as that sounded, I appreciate the sentiment because I can’t remember if there ever was a time a man protected me from anything. They normally only caused harm in my world. In his eyes I saw the lengths he would be willing to go and I never wanted him to take them. Not after him sharing a bit of his troubled past with me.

“Very Prince Charming of you,” I said, over sharing my observations.

“I’ll be your knight in shining armor anytime Jamila ,” he said with a wink.

“Anddd there the corniness goes. You never leave home without it do you?” I chuckled, causing him to laugh as he walked closer to the van to close the back doors now that all of the supplies were returned.

“Never,” he said, as we walked towards the front. “Speaking of home, is it cool if I escort you?”

My chest did that thumping thing again and I made a mental note to see a doctor as soon as I got good health insurance. Rubbing at the area, I chewed on my bottom lip as I contemplated his offer.

Pausing my stride I said, “You live in the city and I live all the way in East New York. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask, I offered,” he countered.

“You aren’t going to take no for an answer are you?” I asked, noting the glint he got in his eyes when he was adamant about something.

“As he shouldn’t!” Jazz says from a cracked window, causing us to whip our heads to the left. “Now come on. We don’t have all day and rush hour traffic is not for the faint of heart.”

We chuckle but board the van knowing that she’s right on both fronts.

“What’s he doing here?”

Papi walks into my apartment with sun kissed skin that glistens with sweat. His book bag half haphazardly hangs off of his shoulder as he eyes Xavier who is sitting at the counter with my laptop. I turn my attention from the stove towards him.

“First off, hello Papi, my day was good. Thanks for asking,” I said, propping my hand on my hip.

“Sorry Auntie,” he says, entering the kitchen to place a kiss on my cheek. “Now, why is he here?”

“Because he’s helping me fix my resume. Stop being rude and say hello,” I said, tapping his shoulder.

“Hi friend,” Papi said, causing Xavier to chuckle.

“What’s up lil man?” Xavier asked.

“You tell me. Why couldn’t you fix the resume on your laptop?” Papi asked him.

Xavier’s eyes darted to mine because he hadn’t expected to be put on the spot. Using my fingertips, I tip his chin so that his gaze is aligned with mine.

“You want to go to that fancy basketball camp right?” I asked.

We had found a camp to send him to that ran all day but wasn’t free. It’d cost two thousand dollars for seven weeks of camp. I told Mari I would be able to go half. We put down the five hundred deposit to hold his spot but would need the rest for him to start. 

“Yeah,” he said.

“Okay, so that costs money. I have to get the best paying job possible and can’t do that with a jacked up application. He’s helping me on my computer because it’s my resume. Got it?” I said.

“Got it. Help us get the bag and then go somewhere. Preferably to your house,” Papi said as he exited the kitchen. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be back for dinner.”

“It’ll be done in thirty,” I replied.

Papi gives Xavier one last glare before stomping Vans clad feet across the hall. We listen as he slams his door shut and I sigh while pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Sorry about that,” I said after a beat.

“Aye,” Xavier says, the gentleness in his tone causing me to look up. “He’s a kid who literally had to protect you from another man the other day. He is allowed to be cautious, in fact it’s normal, and healthy that he is.”

I take a few steps closer to the counter that separates us and drum my fingers on top. “I know. I wish he didn’t have to do that. He deserves to just be the kid we weren’t able to be. Feel like I stripped some of his innocence away.”

“Talk to him about it. Kids are more resilient than we think and open communication will help preserve the innocence that remains. You don’t want his knucklehead friends giving him advice on what relationships between men and women are supposed to look like,” he says.

I’m reaching for a braid to twirl when he leans across and intercepts. Using his finger to wrap the strand around. I side eye him but he is unmoved as he continues, “It won’t be as nerve wracking as you're making it out to be but if you want, I can send you one of my old lectures that touches on the subject, and gives some pointers to start from.”

“Thank you, I’d appreciate that. Now unhand me so I can go check on dinner,” I said, shifting my eyes to his finger once more.

He chuckles but releases my hair as effortlessly as he grabbed it before shifting his focus back to the laptop. We fall into a companionable silence, neither us feeling the need to fill the space with words. The soft clicks of the keyboard, the popping of grease, and the Quiet Storm from 107.5 serve as all the ambiance we need. Moving around each other in this space feels natural as a freshly showered Papi joins us. He sits right next to Xavier and eventually thaws enough to start asking questions about resumés as curiosity gets the best of him. When we eat, it’s in the living room while watching a Lakers game, and after Xavier takes it upon himself to wash the dishes as I get Papi settled across the hall. Now we’re standing out front as we wait for his Uber that’s ten minutes away. It’s too late to play with the trains and he has work waiting for him when he gets in.

“When you see me…what do you see?” I ask, causing him to look up from his phone. He’s one of those people that thinks watching the rideshare app screen will make the car come faster. Normally, I’d leave him to it but this question had been plaguing me all day. 

“Like in general?” he replied, angling his body towards me, instantly giving me his undivided attention.

“Yeah, like what’s your perception of me. I have been thinking about how I come off to other people. Wondering if I’m really as cold as I seem, as I feel, if I’m being honest. I know how I got this way but I’m not sure how to reverse it. So I’m hoping there’s more to the eye than the frost I emit. Some part of who I used to be,” I say in a rush.

I don’t know how he does it but when I’m around Xavier words spill out of my mouth like a waterfall. An overflow of thoughts that I now have a human soundboard for. 

“The frost is there but it is not all encompassing. I see a lot of things when I look at you. I see a wisdom forged in years that were meant for mistakes, I see fear of the unknown, I see the distrust you have in people which occurs when your only experience has been one betrayal after the other, I see the resilience you passed onto that young man upstairs, I see the strength from carrying your burden and others, I see generations of beauty on both sides, I see eyes that are curious, I see a mind sharper than any sword that probably belongs in somebody’s boardroom,I see sarcastic comments waiting to be unleashed,  I see…you Jamila. You,” he says, while looking me in the eyes.

There is something in his gaze that makes me believe him. That makes me visualize the puzzle of my personality that he has pieced together. His description is not far off, in fact, it’s pretty spot on. I don’t acknowledge that though, choosing to ask another question instead.

“You’ve only known me for a little over two months and you see all of that?” I asked.

“I’m good at reading people, especially those I find interesting, so yeah, I see all of that. What do you see when you look at me?” he questioned, flipping the tables.

“I see…compassion. The real kind, you don’t perform it, you are it. I see knowledge that I learn from. I see…,” I said, pausing to collect my thoughts. I’m not as eloquent as him so I know I need to get to the point fast. As I muse, he uses the opportunity to inch closer as if he doesn’t want to risk losing any of my words. 

“I see what second chances look like, I see someone who makes things happen for himself, I see the answers to all the questions I have and the patience to hear them all, I see sadness, raw to touch but it’s a scar not a wound. I see the need to find a purpose bigger than yourself.”

He nods his head before saying, “The duration of time doesn’t matter when you’re paying attention to what’s right in front of you. That’s what I have learned over these last few months and you have reminded me of that again.”

“That doesn’t freak you out?” I said.

“Nah, life is about meeting and connecting with as many people as possible. This is how we grow into who we’re meant to be. One conversation at a time,” he said, nudging his shoulder with mine.

“I don’t know about meeting a ton of people but I’m learning that conversations aren’t so terrible,” I say.

“I told your ass,” he chuckles as I look out towards the street. The neighborhood is still alive even at ten in the evening. It’s second nature for me to look around and take in who’s also outside. The same suspects as usual crowd the same corners and front steps. None of them pay us any mind. “What are you doing Saturday?” 

I turn my gaze back towards him. “After doing laundry and shopping with Mari, nothing why?”

“Cause I’ma be back this way. I have to run an errand downtown, want to keep me company?” he asks, his look hopeful. The rest of his body language is calm, with his shoulder relaxed and forearms resting on his lap. It’s those eyes that are alive with the possibility of my answer. 

“Sure as long as you feed me,” I say. For some reason I want to see the rest of him light up with the energy in his eyes and he does. Smiling big as he laughs at my sole stipulation. My eyes swing back towards the street having seen enough.

“Yes, I’ll feed you and you talk about me being greedy,” he says right as I spot a gray Toyota Camry turning onto the end of the block. “That’s me. Thanks for dinner.”

“No thank you for fixing my resume and my cover letters. I appreciate that and for making sure that I was okay,” I said, as we both stood up.

“It’s nothing-

“No, it’s something. People don’t move like you do most of the time,” I said with a shrug, my personal experience has proved otherwise so it was worth noting a positive one. “I might be asleep when you do but text me when you get in.”

“I got you. If I try to hug you, will you punch me?” he asks with a grin.

“Annoying ass,” I said.

“That wasn’t a no!” he snickers.

I roll my eyes again before wrapping him in a side hug. He squeezes me briefly, giving me a waft of his cologne. It’s five seconds at max but when we part he looks like he’s just won the lottery. He wears a silly smile as he walks backwards towards the car. “Goodnight, go inside.”

“I’m going,” I said, as I ease up the steps backwards. “Goodnight.”

We wave at each other one last time before I disappear inside.

I’m home.

Okay, good.

…I kind of want to bother you now that I know you’re still awake.

Go for it.

Within seconds my phone is flashing with an incoming Facetime call which I answer. Xavier is seated on a deep blue couch with a thick stack of papers in his lap, a red pen in hand, and a pair of black glasses resting on the edge of his nose. He’s dressed down in a Boyz N Tha Hood t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. His outfit is similar to mine because I’m also in a graphic tee but mine is oversized so it can double as a nightgown. 

“What has you still awake?” he asks.

“I can’t turn my brain off so I was reading trying to tire myself out,” I reply.

“That makes sense, what book is it?” he asks next.

I hold up my copy of Sarah J. Maas’ House of Earth and Blood. It has taken me the last month to get even halfway through but it’s a great story.

“Let me find out you into reading fairy sex the booktok girls be talking about,” he chuckles, causing me to laugh because I wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth.

“One, they are fae in this story and two, how do you even know what booktok is?” I question, as I plop the heavy book back down onto my bed.

“I try to keep up with my sister's interest but I had to draw the line once I found out that booktok is just a bunch of magical sex. There’s no way I’m discussing any of that shit with her young ass,” he says with a dramatic shudder as he jots down a note on what looks like a test as he flips the page. 

“That’s fair but it’s nice that you even tried. My brother talks at me, not to me,” I said, causing him to look up.

“Is he older or younger? And do you have more siblings?” he asks.

“Nah, it’s just us, and he is technically older by seven months but we’re the same age so no,” I said, which he snickers at.

“I take it y’all don’t get along,” he says.

“Not really, when things got bad here, his mother took back full custody of him, and they moved down to Virginia. He went on to continue having a normal childhood and I was stuck here. He doesn’t understand my choices and I don’t understand his. We live in two different worlds,” I said with a shrug.

“There’s always a chance to fix that if you want to, that is. My sister is my only sibling but I have a gang of cousins who are like siblings. We don’t always get along or understand each other but we try. Sometimes it’s easy and sometimes…,” he trails off but he doesn’t have to finish. I know where his thoughts are going and I want to keep him in the moment.

“Sometimes you have to accept the differences are too great to ignore. It’s what I have had to do but getting back to the subject at hand,  all I meant was, I know your sister appreciates you taking an interest in her life,” I said.

“I hope so man, I hope so. I know she regards me as a third parent but I really want to be her sibling too and not just another authority figure,” he said.

“Well it sounds like you’re doing a great job. Keep being consistent with her, that's important,” I said, as I sink further down into my bed. I lay my face on my pillow and prop the phone up against another pillow so that I don’t have to hold it. 

The sound of my movement draws his attention as he looks up at me. He pauses, as his eyes rove over my face. Even through a screen I can see thoughts swirling in them but I don’t ask for particulars.

“Getting tired?” he asks.

“A little but it’s okay, I’m still very much alert.”

He nods his head, giving me one last glance before returning to his work. I go back and forth between watching him work and getting lost in my thoughts. Eventually I fall asleep with the sound of his pen swishing across tests serving as much needed white noise.