#the tongue touch solidified that this was gonna blow up

[onlyifyoubadd]

the second I saw that I KNEW it would trend! yall freakkyyyy 🤣🤣🤣

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Trapped

Word Count: 3.2k

Written for an anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Oikawa/Reader.

Synopsis: Oikawa isn’t the first stalker you’ve caught the interest of, and you really, really didn’t think he’d be the last. Now that you’re in trapped in his arms permanently, you’re forced to make the best of his smothering obsession. 

TW: Non-Con, F. Reader, Non-Consensual Touching, Overstimulation, Bondage, Knife-Play, Blood, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Stalking, Imprisonment, Gaslighting, Mindbreak, Flashbacks and Implied PSTD.

Part One.

It'd always been the adrenaline, for you.

You liked the danger, too, and the satisfaction of knowing you’d beat a stalker at their own game. You liked being able to smile as you crushed a hidden camera under your heel, to laugh as you lost the poorly-disguised ‘stranger’ in a festering crowd, to feel utterly, entirely contented as you pictured Oikawa’s expression while he watched you rip another one of his hand-written, stumbling, rambling letters into shreds after reading the first nonsensical line. The rush was the best part, though. The frayed nerves, the blurry vision, the way your heart threatened to give out every time you woke up somewhere you didn’t remember falling asleep, a rope wrapped sloppily around your wrists and your own panties shoved in your mouth because someone hadn’t thought to buy a gag before you started screaming. It was fun. There wasn’t a better way to say it. It was fun.

It’d been fun back then, too. But, that’d been different. You’d gotten out in time. You’d assume Oikawa would be as easy to read as he was, and that was your mistake. You thought you had more time. If you were being honest, you were starting to think Oikawa’d gotten predictable. You were starting to think he’d gotten boring.

Huh.

It makes you sound like the creep, when you put it like that.

There was nothing exciting about laying on a bare mattress, stripped of your clothes and weapons and dignity, blindfolded and restrained as your captor, your actual captor, did something on the other side of the basement, assessing the small amount of damage you’d caused before you were caught and captured in earnest. You hadn’t fought back, not really, not after you realized you wouldn’t be able to escape without breaking down the door. 

You’d been in a stupor, but now that your pulse was beginning to slow and the panic was slowly turning into solidified, gnawing terror, you were starting to regret reacting so calmly. You thought he’d go easier on you, if you went along peacefully. You were used to the lead-up. You weren’t sure what to do, now that you were working out the aftermath.

You were in Oikawa’s territory, now, his fantasy.

All you could do was bite your tongue and hope he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge.

But, that didn’t mean you could stop yourself from flinching when you heard him take a step towards you, the noise jarring compared to the quiet tension you’d adjusted to. There was a light chuckle, breathy and non-committal, punctuated by a gentle, sympathetic hum as he crouched by your side, the sound of skin scraping against concrete and a subtle dip in the mattress underneath you serving as your only hint at his position. He didn’t touch you, not at first, but it might’ve been better if he had. At least then, you wouldn’t have to wait for it. If he lashed out, you wouldn’t have to spend so long wondering where he was going to strike first. “I’ve been dreaming about this, cutie,” He stated, the words almost a sigh. Contented, fulfilled. As if he might let you go again, just to see how good it’d feel to snatch you back up. “You kept me waiting for forever, you know that. Wanna guess how long?”

You thought it was rhetorical. This was his long-winded, villainous monologue, and you were the damsel in distress, forced to listen. Your assumption was corrected with a flick to your forehead, the gesture playful, but still startling enough to make you recoil. “Answer when I ask a question, brat.”

You remembered the day, but not the date. He’d tried to get your number in a bar, then when you politely declined, he’d tried to slip something into your drink and you’d splashed it over his chest, staining the nicest shirt you’d ever seen. You’d been so proud of yourself, you’d let yourself buy coffee from the most expensive shop in town every morning for the next week. “Seven months?” You guessed, your voice coming out meeker than you meant for it to be. “I... I’m not really sure.”

Another laugh, this one punctuated by a tap to your cheek. “You really don’t think much of me, huh? Can’t say I’m not offended, (Y/n).” There was a slight lull, and when he went on, his tone dropped, lowering just enough for the change to be noticeable. Just enough to make his touch seem dangerous, as he took you by the jaw. “Two years. We’ve been playing this game for two fucking years, and apparently, you didn’t even notice. It would’ve been one thing if you rejected me, but I don’t like being ignored. I spent so much time watching, so much time nudging you in the right direction, but you’ve always been the oblivious type, haven’t you?” There was another sigh, this one labored, heavy. Tired, but not as regretful as it should’ve been. “Oblivious and energetic. But, we’ll plenty of time to take care of that together, won’t we?”

It was a numb sort of shock. A realization you should’ve seen coming, an injury that phased through your skin and struck your chest without a buffer to cushion the blow. “Bastard,” You spat, before you could think better of it. It was more frustration than anything - hot, overwhelming frustration. Suddenly, you wish he’d been kind enough to gag you, too. You wouldn’t be able to make things worse for yourself, that way. “You were following me for years, and your first move was to drug me? You must be even crazier than I thought--”

He was gracious enough not to let you dig your own grave any deeper. Without warning, two fingers forced themselves into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you lurch forward, only for Oikawa to catch your shoulder. “We’ll have to work on that too, but don’t worry.”

He paused, leaning forward, pressing a kiss into your forehead, one so light and so sweet, you could almost ignore the bared teeth, lingering underneath it.

“Your boyfriend’s gonna take care of everything, from now on.”

~

It was a small mercy that he’d gotten rid of the mattress.

He must’ve gotten tired of it, of giving you the luxury of being able to squirm and lean away from his touch and pull at the tether he’d repurposed when you got too brave, for his taste. Its replacement had been simple - a wooden chair, metal fetters keeping your wrists bond to its arms and your ankles to its legs. You’d say you didn’t see the point in the latter pair, but it would’ve been impossible to ignore Oikawa’s intentions, this far into your captivity.

You’d tried biting at him. You’d tried worming your way out of your restraints and finding weak-points in your shackles and, the few times you’d been able to, attacking him out-right, but Oikawa was an Olympic athlete and you were sore and stiff and drained, and there was nothing you could do to stop him as he draped himself over your shoulders, a knife in one hand and the other preoccupied, playing with your pussy and getting a little more impatient every time you growled or shrunk into yourself or gave him an exuse to do something reckless and heartless. It was humiliating. It was risky, moreso than it had to be. It was…

It wasn’t your last admirer would’ve done. Not while you knew him. Not before you left. Not before he became one of two hellish options.

“Still awake, angel?” It was more of a purr than a question, finished off by a tilt of his blade, the sharpened edge pressing into the flesh of your throat. A rational, logical part of you knew he’d never do it. If he wanted to kill you, he’d already had plenty of time to, and while Oikawa was a pervert and a kidnapper and a psychopath, he didn’t seem like the type to get his hands that dirty. Part of you knew that, a part of you was so sure of that, but that sensible minority seemed to grow fainter every time his thumb prodded at your clit, pushing messy circles around the sensitive nub, every time lithe fingers traced over your slit, collecting slick and playing with the idea of fucking genuinely fucking into you. Playing with it, just playing with it. Touching you enough to make your mind fog over and tears form in the corner of your eyes, but not enough to let you forget where you were or, more troublingly, who was touching you. “I don’t know how far I can push you, after this morning,” He went on, casually. “I mean, when you passed out, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I never thought you’d have anything against blood.”

Blood. That reminded you of something, something older than the open wounds still littered over your hips and spotted across your back. A broken nose, an ex-boyfriend complaining about your ‘over-protective friend’. Dirty alleys and pieces of glass. Bloody knuckles, scraped and raw, but not Oikawa’s.

The blindfold was gone, but you clenched your eyes shut regardless. You didn’t want to think about that. Oikawa’s sadism was easier to lean into, in comparison, more welcoming, although not nearly as hospitable as the dark, repressed recesses of your mind. It wasn’t like he would’ve let you drift off, anyway. The moment he noticed your attention start to shift, two digits were forced through your tight entrance, making you jerk forward just enough for his blade to draw a thin, red line in your throat, warm blood just beginning to drip from the corners by the time he pulled away. It didn’t hurt. Hell, it barely stung, but suddenly, your heart was racing, your pulse beating in your ears, and Oikawa’s laugh ringing out like chapel bells on the morning of an execution.

It wasn’t adrenaline. It wasn’t panic suppressed by practicality. The only thing you felt in that moment was white, hot fear. For your safety, your well-being, your life. For all the things Oikawa could so easily take away, if he wanted to.

He was just as merciless in this facet as he was in any other, chasing after his own entertainment rather than your satisfaction. He didn’t try to hide it, either. You could feel his smirk bite into your scalp as he pushed a fleeting, affectionate kiss into the top of your head, as he curled his fingers and spread them apart, giving your aching cunt everything it’d been dying for. It was cruel, really, how you could barely buck your hips, every little movement only putting you closer to his knife, to the thing that could end you with a slip of his wrist or a switch in his mood, but there wasn’t anything you could do. You were beginning to think that was what Oikawa wanted. To push you into a defeatist mindset. To prove that trying to resist was useless, now that he’d gained the upper hand. To make you see that he’d already won, and he wasn’t going to indulge you with a second round.

There wasn’t anything you could do. Not anymore.

You’d already lost.

~

The first time he fucked you, it’d been in his own bed.

Or, you think it was his bed, at least. He’d taken you out of the basement the same afternoon, and when you didn’t try to run the first time he turned his back, he’d nodded approvingly and cuffed your wrists to his headboard as a well-earned precaution. There was a jersey mounted on the wall with colors you didn’t recognize, but it wasn’t like you’d ever been his biggest fan. Gold and silver trophies were arranged half-hazardly along a shelf on the far wall, but he might’ve just liked to show off. He liked to show off. Above all things, you knew he loved to show off.

That was why he’d waited so long, until you could barely think and your whole body ached and you’d been willing to do anything to sleep in a real bed, rather than on a cement floor with little more than ropes and chains for company. You really couldn’t think, could you? You’d been focused on the ceiling since he first forced himself into you, your cunt already wet from too much foreplay and too little pay off, but even that was blurry, now, a blend of beige and white with nothing to interrupt it. Oikawa was talking again, but you didn’t want to listen. You couldn’t be sure of how long you’d been here, but it was long enough to know things were easier, when you didn’t listen to him.

A few words made it through the haze, though, once your gaze drifted to his face and you saw his lips moving. “So pretty,” He muttered, his voice low, just quiet enough not to be affected by the way he thrust into you, measured and erratic, at the same time. There was a spark of pain in your hips, strain in your thighs, and you realized he was holding your legs, one thrown over his shoulder and a thigh pressed into his side, his nails biting into your skin. It hurt, but in a distant sort of way. The pain was cold, like a knife cutting dead meat. Something that elicited a feeling similar enough to be recognized, but missed the mark and landed somewhere alien, instead. “My pretty little girl, my stubborn sweetheart, mine,” He went on, almost incoherently. He didn’t think you were listening, and to his credit, you really wished you weren’t. “Mine, mine, mine. Perfect and beautiful and mine.”

His hips slotted against yours, his cock hitting something soft and spongy inside of you, and you couldn’t seem to smother the shudder that worked its way through your body, that dull electricity that had your nerves standing on-edge, your back arching, a pitch whine snaking out of your throat that would’ve been painful to swallow down. It was less of a reaction and more of an impulse, something you were too worn-down to fight off, but Oikawa’s lazy grin still widened as he leaned down, nipping at your jugular. “Like that?” He asked, the words nearly muffled by your skin. “Does she wanna be mine?”

You didn’t deny it. You didn’t have time to try. His lips were on yours before your could, the collision sudden and messy and harsh. You pulled at your restraints, but Oikawa’s only response was to groan against your mouth, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek, to clamp down around your jaw and hold you in place as he raked his tongue over yours. It was the first time he’d kissed you, beyond chaste pecks and bites that spoke more to his bloodlust than his fondness.

It was the first time he’d kissed you, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him, you could hardly bring yourself to think about Oikawa. All you could do was remember the last time someone had kissed you like this.

All you could do was remember him.

It was a flood of information, too much to process at once. The house you grew up in, back in Japan, and a boy sitting on your bed with pretty eyes and a stern scowl and the lightest blush painted across his pale skin. How he’d tasted, the way he’d way he kissed you - shyly but fiercely, like you were the only thing that mattered to him, the only thing he was willing to dig his nails into and keep. The phone calls at midnight, the afternoons you spent on the bleacher’s of your high school’s gym, the friends that avoided you and the arm that was constantly wrapped around your waist, holding you just tightly enough to make breathing a little harder than it should’ve been.

The ring he’d tried to give you, after graduation, the one you’d never gotten a chance to wear. How he pushed his bangs away from his face as he tried to shove his way into your apartment, yours, not the one you’d shared with him and fled from, the first time he'd lost his temper. The restraining order that never stopped him, and the feeling of his hands around your neck, everything. Everything you’d tried to think of as an accomplishment. Everything you wanted so badly to think you were in control of, even as you bought a plane ticket and packed your bags and ran, just to get away from it. Everything you’d been stupid enough to think you could avoid, with Oikawa.

You couldn’t be sure when you started crying, but you must’ve. There was a cracked sob before you started talking, and then something you could only barely recognize as your own voice. “Tobio,” You gasped, flinching into yourself. There weren’t tears, but your eyes were wide, burning. You didn’t want Kageyama to touch you. Someone was touching you, and you didn’t want Kageyama to touch you. “Please, Tobio, it hurts, it-- I can’t-- I can’t breath--”

Finally, Oikawa stilled, pulling back just enough for his confused expression to be visible. He didn’t try to hide it, bewilderment mixing with offense before he put the pieces together, before uncertainty turned to realization and realization turned to anger. He didn’t hit you, but for a moment, you thought he was going to. It looked like he wanted to, but he didn’t.

Just as quickly, his features softened, and he broke out into a wide, forgiving smile. As if you’d only ever imagined his frown.

His next kiss was gentle, barely a shadow of his first. Soothing, in a way. It might’ve been comforting, if you weren’t so distraught. “Why didn’t you say something, angel?” It was a question, but he didn’t bother waiting for an answer. You were almost relieved. You probably wouldn’t have known what to say. “If I’d known you were scared of big, bad Tobio all this time, I would’ve done something. He’s so mean, isn’t he? Did he put his hands on you?” There was a hint of resentment in his tone, but it was easily lost under the faux empathy, the sweetness. So layered on, you might’ve believed it was genuine. You could’ve, if you tried to. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore, not while I’m here.”

“I don’t…” You tried to respond, it was a weak attempt. Now, the tears came, but Oikawa didn’t seem to have a problem brushing them away, cooing as he swiped his thumb over your cheek. “You won’t--”

“I want to keep you safe,” He corrected, before you could convince yourself he didn’t. “From Tobio, from everyone. And you’re gonna let me, aren’t you, princess?”

You wanted to feel safe. You wanted so desperately to feel safe. Running away from Kageyama hadn’t worked, not when it just led you to Oikawa, and it’d been so pointless to act like you were ever in control. You wanted to be protected. You wanted to be safe, and Oikawa seemed so sure of himself, as he started to fuck into you again, his pace considerstate and his touch loving. So loving, it was easy to think he might actually love you. More than Kageyama did, anyway, towards the end.

Maybe you would let him.

Maybe you’d try, just to see what it was like.

[whitefawnn]

blood letting (part 6)

c!wilbur soot x reader

warnings: manipulation, blood, physical fighting, panic attack, dissociation

masterlist of blood letting

note: read the warnings

“fuck.” he muttered. Y/n always right there for him, and what the fuck was he, a parasite stuck to their neck? He suddenly jumped to his feet, realizing what the conversation had meant. Words not worth feeling pity over for y/n was going to talk to Dream.

———-

I stormed through the halls, listening for sounds of rustling, of life. The sound of my blood rushing seemed to be far too present in my ears. I made my way to where I had last seen Dream last night, and I heard the sound of unfolding paper from a nearby room. A blood red carpet leading me to the slaughter. I quickly walked to the sound, posture held high, I needed to know my purpose if this was going to go well, if this was going to go at all.

“What a nice surprise.” Dream purred out looking up from the map he was studying on the large meeting table. His posture is always that of a predator’s, always waiting for you to slip up. The paper extended over almost the entire table, my eyes torn to look at the large crater that was almost dead in the center. “that’s l’manberg, you know. Just a crater, a fucking sad hole is all your revolution added up to.” I squinted my eyes at him, furrowing my brow. The words a new scar torn open to bleed the sickly blood of regret. He lowly chuckled in response, leaning over to create more red marks over the map, a mess of arrows and lines that meant nothing to me but somehow still seemed at least a bit unsettling.

“Always the charmer, Dream.” I said walking further into the room. I took a deep breath, settling my nerves that seemed to endlessly build in my chest. “Anyway, I need to talk to you,” he quickly snapped his head up to bare into me “Wilbur, he- he won’t speak up, but-“ he tilted his head. I felt myself pause, consider.

“but you will?” he said with a honeyed voice. The taste was too sweet on my tongue. Dream trailed around the table closer to me “you? will?” he questioned with arrogance in his voice, pointing a finger at my chest. The mask left his expression unreadable, his imposing posture making the hairs on my arms raise. was being belittled, pushed aside.

“y-yes.” I stuttered, he leaned forward as I clumsily stumbled back, losing ground in an already fruitless fight. “yes, I will, Dream.” I took a breath, shaking the anxieties from my head “You can’t hurt those people, I don’t care about your stupid fucking revenge. You’re out of the prison, Dream, get the fuck away from them and just fucking leave.” He stood taller now, his mask slightly chipped and looming over me. He seemed like a man who could blow out the sun's light. “Go fucking terrorize other people, leave them alone. Please,” I wanted to plead, to beg “you already got what you want.” Then suddenly he burst out into laughter, loud and disruptive.

“What a joke, you and your bold ideas, darling.” he once again leaned closer to me. His hand covered with a fingerless glove, he caressed my cheek. The touch a burning heat. “So pretty to be so fucking stupid” he spat with clear disdain. “and to think when I let Wilbur bring you, I thought you’d just be dead weight, a pain, but god you’re fucking worse.” He circled around me now, like an animal finally finding their prey. “I’m going to fucking slaughter them, y/n. If you are lucky, you won’t get caught up in it.”

—————-

Wilbur bounded up the red carpeted stairs, his heart beating in his throat. He muttered to himself, a silent prayer that y/n would be okay, a prayer that they would forgive him for his hesitance, a prayer that this waking nightmare would end. He didn’t want to be a coward, he didn’t want to be anything less than what y/n needed. He searched every room with wild eyes and shaky hands. A crazed man looking for the fix.

“Why the fuck is this fucking building so big?” he said running through each room. He pushed back his hair with an exasperated sigh. The white streak splitting the muddy brown like a strike of lighting “where are you?”

A loud thud resonated from the ground above him, opening a pit in his stomach.

——————-

“you won’t- you can’t-“ he shook his head, dismissing me. I scoured for what to do, shifting the weight on my feet. Ideas falling through like water through cupped hands. “If you don’t get the fuck away from the dream SMP,, Wilbur and I, we- we-“

“You’ll what, princess? Get your precious lover boy locked up. You don’t want that AND dead friends do you?” he sing songed, everything a taunt to make this game all the more fun for him. I was a mouse merely caught in his trap.

“Dream,” I mumbled, my voice wavering, I knew I wouldn’t be able to trust my voice but still I tried. Tried to speak, to say something. I came up here with the idea to lose a life, but maybe I hadn’t weighed that heavily enough. Weighed what it meant to its full capacity, a knife through the heart.

“y/n,” he purred back once again. Dream then slowly lifted his hastily made mask revealing his marred face and pushing back his matted hair in the process. I stared at him with wide eyes as he smirked down at me. His face one crafted of cracked marble. “You’ve always been so enticing, y/n, but always so fucking idiotic.” he sneered at me leaning even closer. His hot breath fanning across my face. “Part of the insistent thorn in my side, with your silly revolution, your stupid dotting over Wilbur.” My breaths began to be ragged “You got these puppy dog eyes, princess, these big puppy eyes.” He reached up to rub his thumb under my eye, I violently flinched back with a yelp. He quickly pulled me back towards him.

“Dream, please, I just-“ I couldn’t force the words out. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I just wanted my friends to be safe from the insidious man.

“Please what, puppy” he tilted my head up with a finger under my chin.

“I just want them to be okay-“ he swiftly slapped the cheek he had formerly been caressing, I cried out, bringing my hand to my face. I whimpered as he pushed me to the ground. My arm landing hard against the dark floorboards. Pain bloomed like clarity.

“useless,” he tched walking back over to the map to continue his work. I crawled over to press myself against the wall. The cool wood taking my back. My head began to spin again, a comfortable feeling really. The world becoming a wash of color, not misplaced feelings. I wanted to let go, give into the waves of pain that resonated from my arm. I lowly whined. A plea left unanswered as the wolf spoke with a low timber. “you stay right there, princess.” I let myself fall away.

—————-

“-princess” the nickname made Wilbur feel sick, the tone pushing the feeling further. He heard lightning crack, an angry blow. He walked into the wide open room to see Dream hunched over a table, fervently writing on a large map. The world laid out before him staring expectantly.

“Dream, where is y/n?” Wilbur pressed, Dream simply chuckled to himself, the mask once again placed over his face.

“right there,” he pointed to them, not lifting his head from the map “not that you should care.” he drew quiet, Wilbur looked down at y/n’s collapsed form, one of their cheeks a bright angry red. His feet were glued to the ground, “They don’t respect you, Wilbur, maybe you should treat them just the same, you know treat others how you wish to be treated.” Wilbur craned his head to look at Dream, his mask now unturned to look back. “they made their choice, coming up here to fucking complain.” Dream’s voice was laced with venom, each word a painful bite.

“and what do you suggest I do then,” Wilbur inquired, eyes still glued to them. A body that seemed to be everything in the moment. He watched as they shallowly breathed, a light bruise beginning to form under their right eye. Purple that stained like wine.

“get them out of here, then come back and we can do what we need to,” he chuckled, “without,” he paused, “distraction.” Wilbur leaned down, gently scooping y/n up in his arms. They lowly groaned, their face contorting to one of pain. He winced right back. “You do still need blood though hmm,” Wilbur turned to see Dream looking up at him. The mention of the substance making him feel woozy. “Maybe take some, I’m sure they’ll understand.” he seemed to coo the words, each one more unsettling. The implication making y/n’s weight heavier in his arms.

Wilbur gave a curt nod, focusing on not revealing his thoughts on the matter. He kept his body relaxed, his face expressionless. He let himself hide the growing storm, y/n deserves an umbrella from the pouring rain. He proceeded to leave the room without a word. Finding his way to the horses still tied up in the front, he took off.

“thank god you didn’t die.” he whispered to y/n “I’m gonna fix this, I promise.” he didn’t receive a reply. Only silence that barred into him solidifying guilt.

[adh-dean]

Mirror Touch

How is Cas supposed to sleep with his shattered wings blurring out into the world around him

Read on Ao3

Drug use tw

Castiel can still see the stars from here, but the porch just doesn't afford the same atmosphere as the roof of the cabin. It's too low, not distant enough from the earth and the rest of the world, and too far from the sky. It's harder not to feel human when you're this close to the ground.

The porch may not be high enough, but Cas is doing his best to make up for that. The smoke in his lungs is sharp and dizzying, and makes him feel a little like he's floating up toward the stars. The already shaky boundaries between his body and the rest of the world are getting spiderweb thin. He feels the clouds mist against his skin, and the dust, warm and rough like a cat's tongue on his face, and the stars are stinging diamonds set into his eyes.

It's almost enough. Almost.

He takes a long drag and the smoke settles deep against his diaphragm, a firm strain between his ribs. It fills his body and pushes out from behind his thin skin. It goes straight to his head. He blinks, vision filling with spots of ultraviolet against the inky blue blackness. His ears pulse and he lets the wave of vertigo pull him farther up away from the cabin and the camp and the world below.

His lungs tighten like a spring, and his eyes burn. Finally, he lets the smoke out in a slow stream and watches it wander up into the stars. He feels it as it goes, the way it drains from his body, tugging at the taut fibers in his chest and numbing his fingers. The way it snakes through the cooling air, hot and dirty and buoyant. It distracts him for a moment.

But, goddamnit, he wishes his thoughts were as buoyant as the smoke. They sink back down to the campground, back to the cabin, and to the blanket wrapped form huddled inside.

The thoughts send a dull, empty ache slanting down through his stomach. It comes to a point, tightens just behind his navel and then springs up into his chest and brings a stinging tightness to his throat.

He inhales, finally pulls clean air into his smoke stained lungs, and flops back onto the porch. The wood digs into his back and his spine arches gingerly over his crumpled wings. The stiff ache in his bones sits in contrast just under the emptiness in his chest.

It's not enough. Goddamnit. He's still wide awake, buzzing and weighted to the earth with concrete. He stares up at the sky. There's no wind tonight. The high glowing strands of stratus clouds hang frozen. It's jarring, pulls him into the sharp clear focus of the world. Something in his hollow chest shrivels at the sudden wave of self awareness that echoes down into his belly.

His thoughts, still inside the cabin, buzz like a stinging sharp cloud in his head. He closes his eyes, tries to shut off the static, and it crescendos, coming to a sharp point of pressure behind his eyes. And he can hear his mind in a wandering maze, whispering names and faces he doesn't want to think about. His eyes snap open, and the stars come into blurry focus, and the noise quiets just slightly.

He sighs, shaky, and brings the joint to his lips again, and inhales maybe a little too fast. It hits the back of his throat hard and digs in, claws down into his lungs, stiff and metallic and angular. He coughs a little, sending a cottony mouthful of smoke up into the air.

He lets his eyes drift close and his fingers twitch, left thumb twisting at the metal band on his ring finger. His foot bounces sluggishly. The porch is starting to drift underneath him, a lazy, dizzy unsteadiness, but it isn't enough, he's still here and his mind is still full of aching, racing noise. He lets his eyes open, lets his body settle back into itself.

He feels movement from behind him. A tapping and shifting within the cabin, and he stiffens. Then he hears the creak of the door opening, and lets his head fall to the side, pulling the cabin into view.

The door cracks uncertainly, and then swings open, and a face emerges.

"Not on the roof tonight, huh?"

"Shit." Cas blinks blurrily at Dean as he leans out of the cabin. "D' I wake you?"

"No." Dean stops halfway out the door and stretches one arm up to lean against the threshold, and Cas can feel his own arms and chest straining at the odd position. Dean fixes him with a flat stare. "Why are you here."

Cas scowls, gives a sigh that rattles in his sore lungs and turns back to the sky. “I tried to climb up and I fell.”

Dean is still for a moment. Then he blows a slow breath out through his nose and pads out onto the porch.

Cas brings the joint to his mouth and inhales, and he hears Dean scoff, and then suddenly he's sucking in clean air as the joint is pulled from his lips.

"Hey," he croaks out, trying to hold the smoke in his chest. It only lasts a moment before a cough forces up out of his throat, driven by the sudden rush of fresh air. Dean is squatting next to him, holding the joint and staring at it, contemplative.

“What the hell, man,” Cas mumbles, puffing the last of the smoke from his lungs.

“How long you been out here, Cas.”

“Not- not long, since-... damn, I don’t know.” It’s been long enough that the sky is dark, long enough that his limbs are stiff and the cold has seeped into his bones. Other than that he can’t tell.

Dean unfolds his legs from under himself and leans back, draping himself beside Castiel, and then brings the joint to his lips and takes a slow drag.

“You can’t sleep here,” he breathes, and the words float up toward the stars in a cloud of smoke.

Cas sighs. “Why not? ‘S nice out here.” His limbs are weighted down, but he manages to pick up one clumsy hand and grab at the joint. Ash sprinkles down like snow as Dean pulls it out of his reach.

He scowls. “Dean... fucking asshole... give it...-“

“It’s gonna get colder,” Dean drones. “And your back’s already fucked up.”

His wings twist, and pain shoots down his spine. “It’s not that cold.” The air prickles against what little skin Cas has exposed, his hands and face and a narrow strip where his shirt’s ridden up above his low waistline. It’s almost enough to make him shiver. But he’s already floating, eyes drifting closed. He doesn’t care about the cold.

He pulls his eyes open and makes another attempt at the joint. It drifts out of reach again, the cherry weaving a glowing trail against the night sky.

Cas hadn’t really come up here searching for solitude, but he’s getting less keen on Dean’s presence now that the motherfucker is stealing his weed. And he’s not even smoking it anymore. He’s just kind of letting it burn, flicking it every once in a while and letting the ash flutter down to the porch.

It’s not a huge loss. That’s his third- third? Third joint today. Fourth? Fuck. It doesn’t fucking matter.

It’s enough that the planks he’s laying on are shifting dizzily, and his head is dense and warm and fuzzy. The looping tendrils of pain that hang in the air around him where his own form once was are quiet. His thoughts, that sharp, stinging cloud, have stretched into a single winding loop, whizzing by without him.

He doesn’t care about the cold, he doesn’t care about his wings, he doesn’t care if Dean says he can’t because he's already floating away, skin stretching as he expands out into the night air, his chest billowing like a sail. He can't quite feel the porch underneath him anymore. He's falling into the crawling net of stars above, each one sharp and deep and metallic as it pierces into his watering eyes.

"Cas?" a rough voice says from far below. It sounds like Dean. Cas wants to turn and look at him, but he isn't quite inside his body anymore, his muscles sit heavy and dormant and useless, like wet rags. He is turning to mist, vaporising and floating away on the breeze.

"Hey. Cas, wake up."

There's a hand on his shoulder, suddenly, a light warm touch that cuts to his chest, and it sends him crashing back down into his body and he solidifies so abruptly it makes him a little nauseous. He jolts.

"Whoa, hey," Dean says in response, a taut thread of concern behind his voice. Suddenly he's right there, right beside Cas. "You alright?"

Cas shudders a little, the shock of falling still vibrating in his chest. Dean's hand moves off of his shoulder, but that's worse, now he feels like he could float away again, and he finds he doesn't really want to anymore. He reaches up and grabs at the air until he finds Dean’s hand in his own and pulls it up to where he can see it.

Staring straight at their hands like this, he can feel each point where their fingers touch twice, his own real feeling as well as the echoes of Dean's. It doubles over itself, and folds into a cacophony of sensation against his skin. Dean's fingers are a shorter and broader and more crooked than Cas’, and that's the only way he can differentiate them from his own.

He flattens Dean’s hand out and runs his fingertip along his heart line, and feels the satisfying spark in his own palm.

"What are you doing?"

"Hm? Nothing," he croaks. "Jus'- I don't-" His voice kind of catches in his throat, and he speaks lowly. "I don't wanna float away."

Dean gives that sigh again, that pointed breath through his nose, but he curls the hand that Cas is holding around to get a better grip. Their fingers are woven together, and Cas holds on like they're going to be pulled apart.

Focusing on Dean’s hand, he doesn't have to think about the way the porch below him is slowly drifting and pitching like a boat on stormy waters.

"Cas, come inside," Dean says. His voice, normally buoyant, bright and tumbling, has sunk down to hover over Cas’ chest and grown thin, like a trail of water trickling over stones. It's how his voice always feels when it's two or three am and they're both close to sleep. Cas really likes Dean’s voice, he suddenly thinks to himself as it rolls over his shoulders and sinks down into the porch.

"Cas," Dean says again, more sharply. The smooth, papery edge of the word settles in his ears and wakes him gently. His eyes flutter open.

"Huh?" His words and thoughts are slow.

"Come inside."

"No."

"I ain’t scraping you off the front of your cabin if you get blown away during the night.”

Cas shifts, feeling his spine pop and stretch, sighing softly, and then turns and groans and tucks his face against Dean’s shoulder. The pressure in his forehead soothes the ache behind his eyes.

He doesn’t think he can move. The air is dense and heavy and his head is full of warm, fizzing liquid. He’s falling again.

“Cas. Get up.” Dean’s voice is low and clipped, but it vibrates in Cas’ head and pushes away the last thin haze of sleep. Cas pulls in a deep breath and holds it for a moment. He still doesn’t want to move.

He blows the breath out and rolls back to face the night. The sky is black and the stars are still there, sharp and stinging and a little blurred. He can see Dean staring with narrow eyes in his periphery, face cold and stony.

“You think you can just order me around...” he murmurs.

“Yes.”

He reaches over and takes the joint from Dean's fingers. He pulls in a long drag, and then croaks, "Well. You're right," and forces himself up to sitting.

Dean huffs in satisfaction, obviously pleased with himself.

Cas sighs again, letting the clean air in his lungs drain away and shrinking down into himself just a little. His wings warp and fritz. The cold is suddenly hitting him full force, and he shudders, feeling fragile as glass. He stubs the roach out and tosses it into the dirt beside the past three days’ roaches, and makes a mental note to pick up around his cabin tomorrow

He gets to his knees and Dean pulls him up to his feet. He’s clumsy and topheavy, but he can feel Dean right behind him.

Dean ushers him inside and then stands at the door and stares out into the camp as Cas shuffles to the bed. He flops down face forward, and the impact ricochets through his form, makes the pain in the air around him pulse and warp. He groans.

“Good job,” Dean quips.

“Mhmmph,” he muffles back, face mashed into the sheets.

The warmth of the cabin settles against his fragile skin, smoothing over him like a salve. The air here is soft and filled with the quiet sounds of night.

The creaking sound of the door shutting vibrates against the roof of his mouth, and then he feels Dean slump down next to him. He cracks one eye half open against the mattress.

“Go the fuck to sleep,” Dean murmurs, and grabs the blanket and tosses it roughly over Cas. He looks at Cas for another moment, and then closes his eyes and goes still. Cas doesn’t know if he’s asleep or just insistently not dealing with Cas’ shit anymore. At one point he would have been able to tell at a glance.

But the glowing heat of his soul thrums beside Cas, seeping into the remnants of his shattered form. It still hurts but as Cas closes his eyes he can’t remember why he wanted to escape this.

[bitchiha]

The Boxing prompt with Kiba !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All bark and no bite (The Rats 900 follower celebration!)

A/N: YAYAYAYAY HERE YOU GO SHAWTY!!! I was actually hoping Kiba would get this one and if he didn’t I already started a draft of it so he was gonna get one either way HSJAJSJS

Warnings: eventual NSFW, swearing, violence lol but non explicit its just describing the fight, also I just really exaggerated the money shawty Kiba makes from his fights because I wanted him to just fuck around and splurge LOL

There were two sides of Kiba Inuzuka: his bark and his bite. 

 If you were unfamiliar with the famous fighter - which would be highly unlikely considering he’s a goddamn star on the streets - then your first impression of Kiba would be that he was like a harmless Chihuahua, not at all like his fighting name that was plastered on posters on every street corner. The Wolf.

But to the newbies in the betting pools who are only doing it to satisfy their sketchy bosses, I mean come on... kids gotta be all bark and no bite, right? Besides all the good fighters are the quiet stoic ones... And Kibas done a good job of doing the exact opposite. Running his mouth with all his cocky smack talk any chance he could get, spitting teasing remarks about his opponents days leading up to the fight.

“What? That twig? I’ll beat his ass in my sleep.”

“Pffft. Not worried at all.”

“Oh thanks for reminding me, I forgot what that guys name was.”

So the newbies to the betting pools and underground fighting rings place their back-alley bets on his opponents victory. 

They’re always confident with their bets too, some placing large wagers, completely confident in Kibas downfall or hoping to impress their bosses. It’s not the newbies faults though, they’ve never done this kinda thing before. They all go to fucking Cape Cod every summer in their vineyard vines shirts, thry don’t know shit about the underground world.

Plus, Kiba’s one of the youngest fighters, he's only been an adult for a couple years. He doesn’t even know how to act when he gets his wads of cash after fights, spending it on fancy cars and designer clothes. Compare that to the scruffy looking men in their late twenties built like refrigerators and you can see where their heads were at.

Getting into their front row seats, (they figured they were gonna get that money back with the bet, so why not splurge for some good seats? See their bet unfold before them...) Their confidence only solidifies watching Kiba approach the ring in his silk purple robe, basking in the cheers with a toothy grin. He was lean and clearly fit, the untied silk robe exposing his abs and muscled legs.

As the cheers of the Wolf die down, the announcer calls out his opponent. It was a Russian name that was very butchered, but no one could pay attention to that as the guy walked out from the opposite side of the stadium. Another spark of smugness swept over the newbies as they gawked at the opponent. He was a bulky man, at least 6′3, this Inuzuka kid looked like a fucking kid compared to that hulking guy. They were so winning that bet. One of them turns towards the occupant of the seat next to him, gaining the courage to finally talk to the absolute hottie and asks if he could take her to real nice french restaurant a couple blocks away after the match (with his newly won money of course.) 

She declines effortlessly, that smug smirk mirrored on her own face. He thought to call her a bitch or something, pissed off with how she just brushed him off like that, but the bell rang and sliced away all the chatter and signalling the start of the match. The newbies go completely still as they watch Kibas demeanor shift from that little barking Chihuahua and into a frothing wolf. 

With his boxing gloves strapped on tight, mouth guard secured and the crowd chanting his infamous name (yourself included), he starts dodging punches like its a simple dance. Everything boyish about him is gone and as he throws his first punch, the Russian man unable to block it, the newbies get their first real taste of the Wolf.

It was like he was untouchable. Now the rookies realize why nobody objected to their large wagers against him, why they did their best to hide their own bets. They didn’t agree with them, they were just conning their way into debting up some newbies, so they could be just like the rest of them.

Kiba’s giant opponent barely landed any punches. Whenever it seemed like he was gonna land one his opponent immediately blocked it and got his own touch in. It was kind of comedical, watching such a buff and intimidating man struggling so hard, especially after the Russian was the one who challenged him to the fight. Something about how he was tired of the Inuzuka’s attitude and how he needed to get put in his place? So many others said the same thing it was kind of annoying at this point. Kiba just wanted to get the cash and to go fuck his girl.

Not too long after it starts Kiba has already won the match, he lets the announcer grab his arm and raise it up to the crowd in triumph, before slipping through the roped enclosure and stalking towards you. He offered to shake the bloody mans hand in the ring, but he just ignored him (or he couldn’t see, Kiba wasn’t sure.) That predatory look was still in his eyes as he pulled you into a sweaty kiss and as you pull away you have to wipe the blood from under his nose, despite the other fighter not getting much hits, the ones he did get in were painful.

 The crowd is whooping and once again chanting his name, but the newbies remain seated and watch utterly deflated. Seeing his big grin up close, they realized his canines were sharper than they had initially thought. 

Then there was his bark of course, too. And Kiba barked a lot. He always wants you dressed in the most expensive fur (faux!! this is kiba we are talking about) coats, Chanel purses and gold and diamond jewelry... He’s well dressed too, with real gold chains (the subtle ones) and of his own and rings and watches. Hell even your pet dogs have designer collars. What he loves the most is his cars though.

His bark is important to him because up until a couple years ago all he has was bite, his bark measley and mouse-ish, you still loved him then though. But look at the two of you now? 

After the match he’ll get you into one of his sports cars and have you count the cash he earned as he speeds through the city. One hands gripping your thigh, squeezing it with a smirk everytime you count another thousand. All that cash from one fucking match and he can’t wait to spend it all. 

The two of you’ll blow half of it at that fancy restaurant that loser had proposed to take you to, barely keeping your hands off each other for more than five minutes. Your ordering shit you can’t even pronounce and he keeps whispering in your ear about how he can’t wait to fuck his favourite little good luck charm. He’s pressing some sort of tiny dessert into your mouth and after you eat it he’s making you lick his fingers and then you do the same thing to him. You two are like the nights entertainment for the other tables, but neither of you really give a fuck. 

Dishes and glasses pile up on the table and the waiters become skeptical of how you two are going to pay for all of this, but your his last table before the end of his shift so he doesnt question the large wads of cash tossed on the table, then another one a few moments later as a tip.

Your back in his sports car and the engine is revving as you speed through the busy streets, ignoring the blaring horns of other cars because like I said before, neither of you really give a fuck. You two think you’re goddamn invincible. 

Stumbling up the driveway to your shared mansion you can hear the dogs barking through one of the floor to ceiling windows. Kiba opens the door and your dogs run out to greet you jumping and licking at your faces, only to lead them into the backyard as you to run up the stairs to your bedroom. 

One of your heels is still on and the other is downstairs somewhere, or maybe it’s in the backyard? Kiba’s shirt is half unbuttoned and he’s trying to shed the rest of them while unzipping your dress (you got mad at him the last time he ripped your dress off.) It’s all frantic and hazy, like it always is. Everything is just so intoxicating after he’s won a match. 

Once your out of your dress he’s shoving you to the bed and as you crawl onto it he follows suit, settling right on top of you as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. He’s devouring every curve and crevice of your mouth and then he’s rutting his clothed cock against your stomach and growling into your mouth and your whimpering because your panties are absolutely drenched. 

You’re trying to take off his belt as he continues exploring your tongue, even though it feels more like he’s trying to go down your throat. There’s spit pooling down your chin and you don’t know if its yours or his, its a mixture of both and either way he has no problem with licking it off your face. Managing to take his belt off he pulls away to do the rest on his own. That look was back on his face now, the one he always had when he was in the ring. 

Despite how much Kiba tries to deny it, his bite was still much bigger than his bark. That’s just natural for the Wolf. 

[fckinsupreme]

Camp redwood opens again in 2020 and it just so happens that a certain counsellor catches Xavier's eye, so much so he might not want to let her go. The only thing that's sparked any sort of emotion other than longing for almost 40 years..

There she goes again. Walking along as if she didn’t know what was doing to him, her hips swaying, her eyes cast straight ahead instead of where he was standing. She had been on Xavier’s radar from the moment she arrived, the crew arriving several days early to help prepare for the grand reopening of Camp Redwood. There was a lot to clean up and a lot to do, and Xavier couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of deja-vu. But hopefully now, with Margaret’s ghost in check and Jingles & Ramirez no longer terrorizing anyone, it would be different than his own experience.

Y/N was the hottest of the counselors, without question. As was the case with his own group, most counselors were male, with Y/N being one of three girls. The other girls weren’t Xavier’s type, and he gave them as little thought as he would the ground beneath his feet. But Y/N…she was /the one/. They met the first night she arrived, after he caught her lurking around the woods in search of her hook-up—a burly counselor with a small dick and an even smaller, more fragile ego. Xavier made sure it didn’t happen, inviting her to the dock to watch the ducks in the moonlight. She hadn’t a clue who he was, had no idea that he was a victim in the 1984 massacre and was now a spirit tethered to the land for eternity. Maybe she would run away screaming if she knew, although she didn’t seem the type. Or maybe she would steer clear of him and never want to associate with him for the entirety of the summer.

But goddammit, he felt something for her. He had to have her; she was the /only/ thing that made him feel anything in the last thirty-six years. Ever since he died, all there had been was sadness, anger, bitterness, darkness. Seeing her, listening to that adorable laugh, witnessing the beautiful smile on her lips that he had caused, made him feel happy and like he was /alive/ again.

The way he saw it, she was the beauty and he was the beast. He wasn’t going to stay away, though. Quite the contrary, he was going to /get her/, no matter what it took. He knew summer would end too quickly and he would likely never see her again, and the thought filled him with such dread and rage that it almost consumed him. He couldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t let her just get away from him. It was still so early, he could get to her and see if she would fall for him enough to stay here with him forever. But no, that was foolish; surely she had family, people who would miss her. Xavier didn’t have that luxury, since his friends were the only people he had and they had died here with him.

But Y/N would have him, if no one else.

He watches her as she reaches the dock, scanning the water for any signs of the other counselors. He observes her form as she moves, the swell of her ass, the way her legs are bared in her shorts, her (h/c) hair blowing in the breeze. Xavier decides to come out of hiding when she makes her way back, stepping out into the path. She jumps when she sees him, her hand landing on her chest as she grins at him.

“You scared me to death,” she says, breathing in relief. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come check on you,” Xavier says, taking a step closer to her. “See how you’re adjusting. The kids are coming tomorrow, I hear.”

“Yeah,” she replies, chuckling a bit. “Yeah, tomorrow morning. I’ve been going crazy, trying to find the others to get the last-minute preparations underway. They’re too occupied with sex and with the ghost stories to get anything done.”

Xavier’s blood runs cold, a heavy weight like lead in his stomach. “Ghost stories?”

“About the massacres,” she says. “The one in ‘70 and the other in ‘84. Plus, the other stuff that happened in ‘89.”

“Right,” Xavier says, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, yeah. I…Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” she asks with a frown. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m okay,” he assures, backing you up against a thick tree. “I’ve never been better.”

She meets his eyes, and Xavier swears he can feel his heart jumping in his chest. Funny, considering that he wasn’t even alive and hadn’t felt such a thing in nearly forty years. He can’t look away, slowly leaning forward with his eyes on her lips. She doesn’t pull away or push him off, instead moving forward as well to meet him halfway. When their lips touch, it only solidifies the belief that Xavier can’t ever let her go. There was no way he was letting it happen. Sparks seem to shoot through his whole body, and he feels absolutely invincible. He feels as though he could just walk right out of this camp, to the world beyond, with its various changes and shitty music. None of that mattered to him, anyway; the only thing that did was right here, her lips against his and her arms wound around his shoulders.

He deepens the kiss, and is delighted to see that she does the same. She isn’t resisting, isn’t making some kind of excuse to leave. She wanted this every bit as much as he did, and he decides to try something just to see. As the kiss grows more hungry and messy, Xavier’s hand creeps under her tanktop to cradle her breast. She doesn’t stop him, instead moaning against his mouth as she presses his hand more firmly against her skin.

“Shit,” she gasps, her head tipped against the tree as he rolls the nipple between his fingers. “Xavier…”

“No bra?” he asks with an amused grin. “You’re brave.”

“I was gonna—fucking /God/,” she moans, Xavier’s fingers rubbing the nipple in slow, featherlight circles.

“Gonna what?” he asks smugly. “I didn’t catch that last part.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” she says, yanking him down for a harder, more passionate kiss as both of his hands rest over her tits.

He doesn’t question her further. How could he now, when her tongue was swiping his in that needy way of hers? Her nipples were hard and erect under his palms, and he could feel his dick growing harder with every little pant she made, every little rut of her body, every swipe of her tongue. He tugs her shirt up, and she helps him take it off. It lands in a nearby bush, scaring away a bird that was perched there. It flies off, chirping angrily, taking refuge in a distant tree.

“We’re gonna get caught out here,” she pants when he pulls back to kiss over her soft neck. She smells like flowers and candy, her pulse beating against his lips as he kisses along her carotid. “I could lose my job.”

“We won’t get caught,” Xavier promises, his hand plunging inside of her shorts, two fingers gliding along the front of her panties as she groans hotly. “And if we do, would that be so bad? Your boss doesn’t seem like that much of a hard-ass. Not like m—“

He catches himself, but luckily, she didn’t seem to notice the near slip-up. He moves down to her breasts, pushing them together as he massages his tongue along her nipples. Her hand grips his hair in a tight hold, a beautiful moan spilling from her mouth as he pulls one nipple between his lips. He sucks slowly at first, before gradually going faster, his tongue swirling in rapid circles. She’s looking at him, lust in her eyes as she gets even wetter against his fingers.

“You’re soaked,” he remarks, dropping to his knees in front of her as he tugs her shorts down. “Can I taste you?”

“Please, fuck,” she begs, the sweetest sounds pouring from her lips as his tongue makes contact with her pussy. “/Xavier—/“

“Keep saying my name just fucking like that,” he says. “Fuck, you’re so hot when you say it. Do it again.”

“Xavier,” she whimpers, his fingers spreading her lips as he dives further into her cunt.

Her smell, her taste, makes him absolutely dizzy with emotion, so much that he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. He didn’t feel this overwhelmed when he was still among the living, so how did this girl, this gorgeous stranger, have this kind of effect on him? He didn’t know, nor did he care to break down the mechanics right now. He was too focused on her, on her amazing, unique taste that coated his tongue with every swipe over her swollen labia. She was loving it, moaning her appreciation with every move he made. He sucks her clit between his lips, his tongue against it as he gives his head a few rapid shakes.

“God fucking dammit,” she whines, her gaze on him as she plays with her tits. “You’re too good at that.”

“Mmm, I know, babe,” he says, sucking on her left lip before flicking his tongue around her entrance.

He keeps it up for several more minutes, until she’s cumming with so much force that her legs nearly give out. He lies her down upon the earth and claims her, fucking her nice and slow when she expresses her desire for him. Her consent only drove him crazier with need, knowing that she truly did want him just as badly as he was wanted her. She’s a goddess, his own Aphrodite, her body so warm and so inviting for him. Her cunt is so tight, so wet, so /perfect/, her face twisted in pleasure as her hands travel all over his body. He wonders if his own is cold, stiff, something so disconcerting that she begins to question it. But if he is, she doesn’t seem to care or pay any mind; he isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed by that.

He kisses her with fervor, conveying every ounce of passion for her into that one small action. He knows even a kiss would never be enough, not even intimacy on this level would be. He wants her like this for all time, wants her body and her soul and everything in between. How could he even turn his back on her? How could he let her get away?

He had to tell her the truth.

It was a realization so sudden and so horrid that he almost stops fucking her right there. Instead he increases the speed & force of his thrusts, throwing her legs over his waist so that he can pound directly into her G-spot. This brings a whole new slew of responses from her, her mouth open in a perfect O-shape, her nails tearing at his skin, drawing blood from shallow scratches that would soon heal before she ever noticed. The noises she made cause his cock to twitch, and he knows he’s dangerously close.

“Y/N,” he pants. “Cum with me, baby.”

He kisses over her neck and collarbones, her eyes squeezed shut as he leaves hickey after hickey on her skin. She cums at the same time he does, their names echoing through the woods, the sweet sounds they both made more melodic than birdsong. He can’t pull out yet, still connected to her, not wanting this moment to end. Not wanting her to leave him when the truth spilled from his kiss-swollen, saliva-coated lips.

“Y/N…” he gasps, his forehead pressed to hers as he tries not to cry. “There’s…There’s something I need to tell you.”

—

Baby tags: @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @angel-langdon @my-thoughts-and-prayers @thorohdamnson @lvngdvns @leatherduncan @xavierplym @mrsplympton @xavierplymptons @littlegirlsdontplaynice @xaviersghost @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @wickedlangdon @melodylangdon

[nautiscarader]

Visions of the future, DJWfif, E, 1.5k

kinks: pregnant sex

(Ao3)

Okay, so I’ve had this idea for a couple of days, and finally decided to sit and write it down. Also, thanks to @noblesnook for proofreading

===================

With a final, heavy and prolonged cry, Alya collapsed onto her boyfriend's naked body, shaking from the quick, but powerful orgasm that tore through her. Their lips found each other quickly, and with that, their increased heartbeats began to slow down, though not before Alya's body shivered a few times with last few gushes of seed Nino was pumping inside her.

Their legs and arms started coiling around each other, forming an inseparable cocoon, as the two slowly rolled on the small rug in the middle of their apartment. And when Nino's hand pressed against her underbelly, the young journalist moaned into his mouth, once more sending shivers down his spine.

It was a good thing he was lying down, because otherwise Nino would have fallen from the amount of stimuli this evening has brought onto him. The mind-blowing orgasm was one thing, but the revelation that Alya was expecting was something completely different...

He was still light-headed, a thousand thoughts racing in his mind, but with each minute of their embrace, his worries were fading away, until he needed to breathe and had to break the seal of their lips.

- I love you - he babbled, looking at her radiant face. - Oh, how sweet of you, you dork. - Alya replied - Love you too.

His hands returned to her hips, sliding up and down her curves, which prompted Alya to lean onto his chest again and purr in rhythm with his caresses.

- Yeah, you better get used to massages, big boy. - she spoke - Something tells me I will be needing them a lot in the near future. - I will have to get you bigger clothes, too. - he joked, forcing Alya to turn her head sharply towards him.

And then, Alya froze and before her mischievous smile could give her away, she stood up, and before her boyfriend could protest, she kissed him.

- I gotta clean myself up. You've made a mess of me... again.

She pointed to the few white droplets clinging to her thigh, and waddled to their bathroom, giving Nino a chance to watch her curvy backside sway with each step. When she disappeared from sight, Nino let out a deep sigh, stared at their ceiling, and saw some old paint flaking, which brought his mind onto much more mundane necessities they will have to face.

- We will have to find a bigger place, babe. - Yeah, I know. - her muffled voice reached him - But we can worry about it tomorrow.

She stepped out from behind the corner, still as naked as before, somehow looking more radiant with a few droplets of water glistening on her skin in dimmed lighting. Alya lay next to him, and as soon as her backside made contact with his body, his hands closed around her, one drifting to her breasts, the other, predictably, to her underbelly.

- You won't feel anything yet. - she giggled, as his thumb drifted to her clit - Yeah, but it just feels good. - he replied, sneaking a kiss to her shoulder. - Though I know what you really want...

Alya spoke in a low, languorous voice, catching his attention.

- You want to feel my belly growing, don't you...? - A-Alya...

Her quiet voice echoed in their apartment, sending more shivers through his skin. His grip tightened on her body, as if he was afraid she might float up like a balloon and fly away.

- You want to wake up each morning, seeing me getting a bit bigger... and rounder...

This time, Nino only let out a groan when her ass slid against his cock, while her sweet, honeyed words rang in his head, as if coming from a mile away.

- And you want to feel my breasts get swollen with milk... you want to kiss them and sample it, just to make sure it's sweet enough for our kids... The ones that you have put inside me... - A-Alya!

Nino cried her name, but then sharply stopped, when he realised that something was wrong. He moved his hand towards her belly, finding an unexpected, curvy obstacle. It really was bigger. And while her breasts were already ample-sized, he could fit them in the palms of his hand a moment before... unlike now.

- B-Babe?! What's- what's-

But he became lost for words when Alya gently stood up and proceeded to get comfortable in his laps. And when she turned to her side, Nino's eyes widened when he noticed that his sense of touch didn't deceive him: she was bigger. Her flat, athletic belly was now rounder than he'd ever seen, and the areola around her nipples appeared twice as large, not to mention her breasts themselves that succumbed to the gravity as they grew and grew.

If it wasn't for her weight, pressing down on him, he'd run, unsure what has happened to his girlfriend.

- A-Alya?! What-Why- - Isn't this what you want, honey?

Her voice reached his ears, but only then he realised that his girlfriend didn't move her lips. And yet, someone was talking to him...

A new silhouette stepped from behind the corner, wearing a long, red, bushy tail and equally red ears and mask, though those were the only elements of her attire that normally covered her body. Rena Rouge's breasts, hips and sex were uncovered, at it took a moment for Nino to understand what was going on.

- A-Alya? - he looked back and forth at his several months pregnant girlfriend, weighing down on him, and his girlfriend, walking nonchalantly to his side.

And then he saw it. In her hands, Rena was holding her flute, and with that, he understood her devious plan. He looked back at the woman sitting in his crotch, and though it took a tremendous amount of effort, he pressed his hand harder against her body... And it passed through it, shattering the illusion.

- Oh...oh wow... - Nino gasped, breathing heavily as if he woke up from a nightmare. - That... that was amazing. And scary. - Yeah, sorry, babe. - Alya spoke and sat next to him, her seductive, vulpine costume exaggerating her curves - I just wanted to give you a taste of what's gonna happen in the next few months. Not many parents have the privilege of doing so. - Okay, yeah, sure, but for a moment, I was afraid an alien was gonna burst from your belly!

Alya laughed and cupped his face to give him a kiss.

- I'm sorry, Nino. I didn't want to scare you.

She pressed her flute to her lips and played a few notes that solidified the illusion of her pregnant self on top of him.

- You... you really got better at this. - Nino swallowed, stroking his illusionary girlfriend's thighs.

He knew she wasn't there. He knew his senses deceived him. And yet, he could feel her, her skin, her heartbeat, and every curve of her, including the new ones... A few years ago, all Alya could produce were mirages that might have fooled some but just from the distance. And now, the illusions she was producing not only looked, but also felt and behaved like real people, able to fool even those, who spent half their life with them.

She looked at him with the same charming, seductive smile as the real Alya, creating a mother of all conflicts of stimuli in the poor young man's brain. But if that wasn't enough, the real Alya decided to mess up with him some more.

She stood up and let her illusion move to the side, as she got comfortable in his laps next to her. And when two hands, only one of which was real, closed around his cock, Nino let out a sharp cry.

- Ssh, you're in good hands... And lips...

Both of his girlfriends changed their positions, lying next to him, so he could get a full view of their bodies, so similar, yet radically different from each other. Nino's hands at once moved to their rumps, caressing their backs, while their tongues and fingers coiled around his shaft. And again, Nino's senses betrayed him, as he most certainly felt two beautiful women caressing and worshipping him. He closed his eyes, threw his head back and let the bliss engulf him.

Two mouths and two pairs of fingers caressed every inch of his cock, while his hands massaged their bellies, one flat, one heavy with their child. The sucking and slurping sounds coming from two Alyas kissing his cock echoed in the room, only strengthening the otherworldly experience, which culminated, as Alya expected, with a stream of cum that erupted in the air, covering her orange-red mask and her hair. Sadly, the seed passed through her illusionary self, leaving only one Alya marked with his spunk.

- A-Alya... - Nino muttered, watching the two beauties coiling around him. - I love you. And I can't wait to meet our child... - Or children. - Rena at once corrected him, making the other Alya jump back onto his chest. - Don't forget, foxes have big litters...

With another tune, the other Alya's belly grew some more, right in front of Nino's face, much to his surprise.

- Would you like twins? Or triplets, like Marinette?

She played again, and her illusion's body grew again.

- Alya, no matter what happens, I will love you equally.

He spoke and cupped the illusion's belly to place a kiss on it.

- Though... I think I like this version of you more. - he kissed the pregnant belly of the illusionary Alya and shot the real one with a mischievous smile. - Oh, you little-

With a single move, Rena waved her illusion away and straddled her boyfriend, moaning with each kiss he lay on her flat belly. And when she crawled back onto his lips, she knew she lost their discussion, even though he wasn't able to say anything.

[c-atm]

"Hmm," Connie smirked, her mouth slanted slightly upward to the left, a bit of Marion blush on her cheek as her black eyes and raised eyebrows peer down at Steven, who looked close to tears, not that she could blame him.

She cried throughout the morning herself when she found out. 

Still seeing those immense brown orbs gleaming with moisture as tears threaten to fall, his lip turns up as he shakily tries to hold back.

It squeezes her soul like nothing before and solidifies that she chose right that day on the beach.

Though she also can not but feel a little sexy, smug, and prideful at this moment. She didn't expect him to fall to his knees in laughter before they turned into happy sobs. She wiped her eyes quickly and kept her current demeanor... She wanted to be his cool knight of a wife a wee bit longer. 

Silly, but still.

"Is..is it true?"  He asked, hope on his tongue.

Ooof!

That was a blow to her cool posture; she could feel the happy tears coming again. "It's true, Biscuit." She blinked a few times, biting her lips behind her mouth.

"We-we did it? We're getting a little jelly biscuit."

Connie could only nod as she joined him on the floor, "We did it, Steven." She pulled him into a tearful kiss, resting her head upon his as his palm tenderly touched her torso, getting a giggle from her.

"We're gonna be parents."

[sumeshi-t]

i would have always known.

who: oikawa, reader

song: turning page by sleeping at last

genre: fluff and a dash of angst

wc: 1020

note: the rain, the cold breeze blowing against my curtain, and twilight's soundtrack led to this. plus, today is a special day for me so 🎉

the smell of coffee in the air, reaching your nose;

the soft sheets beneath your palms; the slight warmth that lingers is a trace of someone who's just gotten off bed;

the first thing you see when your eyes open was the faint light of the sun through the curtains of your new home.

not that being wrapped around your lover's arms was anything far from that.

the space beside you was empty, the memory of last night coming back once you gave yourself a stretch; legs sore, hips bruised, neck and chest littered with the evidence of the battle you surrendered to, yet were scars you were decorated with and were proud to let the world see.

oh, and you were naked as a newborn.

you flip over, only to be met by him, observing you from the doorway, leaning casually with a cup of coffee in each hand.

"good morning, beautiful,"

oikawa mutters, a soft smile on his lips as he approached the bed.

you make space for him, watching as he bends over slightly to place the cups on the bedside table, before joining you.

an arm wraps around your waist, fingers absentmindedly tracing lines across your bare abdomen. you lean back against his chest, taking in his scent far more soothing than the coffee he's made.

you feel his lips move against the top of your head, a kiss and a whisper of 'i love you' made you tilt your head back and plant a lingering kiss on his defined jawline.

"for a minute, i thought everything was just a dream. but it's real... this is real... you are real," you murmur, before taking a sip. the bittersweet taste on your tongue enough proof of the sweetest reality you were living in:

that you were finally, legitimately, spending what might be forever with the man you love; solidified with vows straight from your heart and not even death would be enough to break you apart.

you raise your hand, admiring the golden band and the glimmering of stones around it.

however, the longer he watched, the more oikawa was drawn to the way your chest raised, the way your cheeks became fuller when you smiled, the way your eyes–goddamn, those eyes–they were hypnotic, he was bewitched; trapped in an unbreakable spell.

no stone could ever compete with how brightly your eyes sparkled.

"consider it a dream come true," he teased. you chuckle in response and hit his chest lightly. mornings-after was always so refreshing with him, you see a side of his that he never really shows anybody.

oikawa had always dreamed of a future with you from the very moment he understood what it is–that made him nervous when you were around, that made him want to protect to you, to hold you close, that made him want to touch your lips with his so badly.

it was the you he'd have come home to after winning a game. the you he'd slow dance in the rain with in the garden out back. the you he'd be raising a family with and watch as the children grow. the you he'd admire every wrinkle and graying hair as you both age.

oikawa would do anything and everything to have that.

to have you.

but now, he's here.

"alright honey, time to get up and get dressed. those fuckers promised us a lunch if we even lasted a month of being married," he rolls his eyes as he stands, picking up the empty cups.

you whine, not wanting the morning to end so abruptly. then, a thought comes and it goes flying out your mouth, unable to stop yourself, "will he be there?"

at this, everything stops. however, when you look at your lover, the clear look on his face was a sign of where his loyalties lie–with you.

"i'm not exactly sure, but if he will be, then i guess that makes it better for all of us,"

there was silence, before he leaves the room and heads to the kitchen. you got off the bed, sighing as you picked whichever discarded shirt that was on the floor to put on. you just noticed that it was drizzling, tiny raindrops racing against each other down the glass, beneath the light of the sun.

strange yet perfectly balanced. it was one of oikawa's favorite weathers. somehow, that lunch doesn't seem so bleak.

"babe, you done? breakfast's gonna get cold!" your husband shouts from the kitchen and you skip your way downstairs, turning your back on the window, and on your storm of thoughts. "who are you calling 'babe'? come on, say it, what's the magic word?"

he sighs, but you both knew how proud and happy he becomes when he calls you, "mrs. iwaizumi".

oikawa throws his phone to the cold, empty space beside him. he grabs the nearest pillow and buries his face in it. 'not again,' he chastises himself for having watched a video he took of you from a month ago. when you walked down the aisle. when you passed by him and went straight to his best friend. as if he was just another prop in the background.

unlike yours, his coffee was dark and bitter through and through. the noise of the drizzle muted by the hurricane in his head. the warmth of the sun unable to penetrate the cold iron walls he built around his heart.

it wasn't fair. he loved you first. but you never loved him, not even at a close second.

and the difference was just 11, 204 miles. the difference was that iwaizumi got to you first. and then you could never love him the way he loved you for at least a second.

oikawa picks his phone up once more. "see you guys later!" and then send.

but even then, he misses you everyday. even though he can't stand seeing you happy with someone that's not him, it was enough.

besides, you'll always be what he's living for. what he's been living for all along. he just didn’t have the privilege of being yours.

[calumrose]

Trigger [Police/Gang!AU] Chapter 6 || C.H

A//N: Viola, I present chapter 6! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, it was only supposed to be small but... whoops it’s over 9k! Anyway, here’s more Calum and Eloise in all their cuteness (and raunchiness - that’s your warning!) Enjoy! 

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: Eloise Gray and Calum Hood, not two people you would ever think to put together. What started as a ploy for power turned into a romance, resulting in the realisation that loving your enemy may not be such a bad thing after all.

Previous Chapters: Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 

His lips were sinners. God, they were that good.

Eloise could barely hold herself together as his swollen muscle worked against her, every crude sound it elicited echoed throughout the silent room. Her hand involuntarily found its way into his hair, fingers tangling in his dark curls as his tongue worked wonders on her core. Head pressed into the mattress, Eloise fought the urge to look down and watch him, knowing the glint of his eyes as he peered at her would only encourage her to stampede to breaking point.

She didn’t understand how she wasn’t embarrassed, never attempting to hide herself from him as he discarded each item of clothing from her beautiful body. He never once made her question herself as she lay in front of him, only ever fuelling her ego with sweet names and amorous affirmations.

She was practically begging for him, begging for him to keep going, begging for him to bring her to the point where she would crumble. God how was a man this good.

“God, Calum,” She gasped, throwing her head back against the mattress. The sound of his satisfied groan was music to her ears, as was the sound of every moan that fell from her lips to him. It was a mixture of sounds they wanted to hear forever.

Calum watched from his position, knees bent as he knelt at the edge of the bed, his tongue savouring every inch of her taste, her back arching in pleasure, completely bewitched at the sight of her losing every ounce of self-control right in front of his very eyes. He took a mental snapshot of every moment, drinking in every gasp, every moan, every quiver that rattled throughout her body as he worked his tongue against her sensitive folds.

“God, you’re so pretty like this,” He remarked breathily, his hands grasped her thighs to keep them open, to keep her ready for him, revelling in the way she presented herself to him, in the way she blossomed, and waited for him to bring her to exactly where she wanted to go. The groan he released vibrated throughout her entire body, her fingers tightening in his curls, his dark hungry eyes watching as Eloise’s glazed ones met his as his tongue licked along the expanse of his lips that glistened like gloss in the light with the taste of her. “So goddamn pretty.”

Every swipe of his tongue, kiss of his lips, every soft touch had Eloise’s toes curling as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. Her stomach coiled with every touch, every look. His eyes travelled along her body as it shook for him, his eyes admiring the sight of her neck that was littered with markings he had caused, the excitement of knowing they would only darken over time elicited a growl from within him. The sound was overwhelming in Eloise’s ears, her heartbeat thundering as Calum’s talent only heightened her nerves, her body craving to feel the burst of pleasure it so desperately desired.

His arms only pulled her thighs closer to him, her whole body shifting further down to the bed as he pressed his tongue further into her, embedding the muscle as it worked into overdrive, pushing for the release that both of them were trying to reach. The room was filled with whines, gasps, and shaking moans as she neared so close to her climax, her head pushing back against the mattress as she gasped for air, letting out a struggling, “Oh, my g-god,” when she felt as though she was at her peak. “Shit, shit, shit, Calum, I’m- “

Her free hand was thrown over her mouth as if an attempt to silence her outcries in the quiet house, her body shaking, eyes closing as her body embraced the overpowering blow that Calum was delivering.

“Cum for me, doll,” Calum encouraged, his muscular arms lifting her hips as he straightened up, tongue never leaving her as his lips encased the orgasm that erupted within her. The new angle only heightened her senses, the overwhelming strength of the orgasm causing Eloise’s eyes to see fireworks, her mind hazed as her toes curled, her blunt nails tugging on Calum’s hair only causing him to groan against her and she released right there and then all over his tongue.

Calum released his grip on her, lowering her hips, with a final kiss to her sensitive clit, being ushered back up to where the pretty brunette lay with a gentle tug of his curls. He didn’t give it a second to wait before he crawled up her body, lips following the saliva trail he had left behind when he first began his descent down her body. A journey he would make a thousand times over if she wanted him to. He knew he would never get tired of her body.

His plush lips ventured back along the sweet skin of her neck, his hands slowly travelling over the swell of her breasts, a destination they never wanted to leave, his fingertips tugging her nipples teasingly as his connected their lips in a slow, sucking kiss, the taste of her dancing along his tongue.

He was completely obsessed with her, in every sense of the word. He wanted to know every inch of Eloise like the back of his hand. The way she felt, the way she sounded. The way she tasted had his tongue tingling, a taste he only wished to be blessed with every day. And still, he knew that would never be enough for him, even having her morning, noon, and night would never be enough to suffice Calum’s dying desire for the girl who lay open for him.

“I want you so bad,” Her voice was hoarse, her eyes fluttering as she reached a single hand forward and pulled on the waistband of his boxers, silently urging for him to remove the constraints. Her whine felt like a punch to his gut, feeling his length twitch at the sound. Her chest rose and fell with shallow shaking breaths, her body urging for her to continue, her body urging for him.

Eloise couldn’t hold back at the fact that she practically drooled for him, the sight of him stood in front of her, completely bare once he tossed his boxers to the side, completely bare and ready for her. She couldn’t fight her eyes from scanning down his figure, drinking in the sight and admiring every single inch of his body. The art that danced along his skin; his collarbones and arms only fuelled the fire, the toned chest, compelling thighs, and perfectly sculpted face were only a small list of the reasons why she felt as dumbfounded as she looked, of the reasons why she was so starstruck by the god of a man who stood before her.

The mattress dipped slightly as he crawled back onto the bed, his lips connecting with her skin once again as he journeyed his way back to her lips, the connection between them practically searing like a bonfire. Each kiss leaving scorching burns in their wake as they lost themselves in one another, the feeling of Calum’s hardened length pressed against her bare thigh caused her heart to beat erratically, as if it were moments away about from bursting.

“Utterly perfect,” Calum rasped, lips capturing hers as if to try and solidify his statement, realising how breathless she had him, how absolutely numb he felt to anything other than her in that moment, his front pressed flush against hers, their skin smooth against one another’s touch as the impatience between them grew with every passing second. “Fuck, I need you so bad.”

“Then have me,” Eloise let out a whine, senses overwhelmed at the thought of Calum and having to wait any longer to feel him, her hands grasping his face as if he was a delicate rose, the lines of his jaw resting in her palms, as his chest pressed against her shaking one. Their eyes met in a fiery dance, brown staring into brown, as they hovered over one another, lips merely inches apart, as she drank in every feature of him, cherishing every beautiful thing she could see as she watched the man above her. “You can have all of me, Cal. I want you.”

Foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing within the silence of Calum’s bedroom as their blood pumped throughout their veins, and hearts pounded against their chests. They were entangled with one another, eyes never drifting as they tried to remain as close as their bodies would allow, realising that such a thing would never be humanly possible.

Realisation hit Calum like a truck, the thought of a rubber between them only bringing a hint of disappointment to his chest before his train of thought was interrupted by the familiar sweet song of Eloise, “I’m covered. ‘M on the pill.”

He swore his heart jumped and confetti cannons were shot in his chest as the words she spoke registered in his brain, his forehead dropping to the space on the bed next to her, lips pressing against the crook her neck, a groan laced with nothing but pure arousal escaped his mouth at the thought of feeling Eloise without any barrier, any filter between them as they got lost in each other’s bodies.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” The smirk was almost painful, the thought in his head being voiced as it fluttered within his chest and mind where the thoughts of Eloise basked. His strong hand reached down between them, gripped his base, and allowed the tip to brush against her sensitive folds briefly, the soft audible whine that escaped her lips only encouraged him, the smirk remaining strong along his lips before he slanted them over her own in a hot kiss; full of adrenaline as he got lost in the beauty that was Eloise.

With a swift movement of his hips he allowed himself to sink inside of her, the sensation of her body wrapping itself around him forcing him to release her lips momentarily, foreheads pressed together as the two let out conjoined groans at the new feelings that burned within them.

Eloise couldn’t fight the gasp as she rolled her eyes back at the staggering way of how he filled her so completely, buried to the hilt, to the point where she could already feel her stomach coiling at the sensation that had begun to build. God, she would never feel something like this anywhere else. And he felt the same, dragging his lips along hers as he released shaking breaths, his heart caught in his throat as he held himself up above her, arms shaking at the sensation that was this woman who was wrapped around him.

Both of them took a moment to process what was happening, to bask in the level of intimacy that neither of them had taken a step towards that first night of meeting, the new level that they had undeniably craved ever since. It took for Eloise to clench, for her eyes to roll euphorically at the sensation of Calum being buried so far inside of her, for Calum to make a move, breaking every slither of control he had within himself as he pulled out, barely leaving much of himself in her warmth before he snapped his hips forward, the sound of their skin connecting being a sound that only spurred him on.

The pleased moan that escaped Eloise at Calum’s rough movement motivated Calum to pick up the pace, his lips helplessly kissing her for what felt the hundredth time that day, but still revelled in the fire her lips ignited just like it was the first time he felt them all over again. It was all tongue and clashing teeth, rushed movements mixed with the burn that was coursing through their bodies as the waves of pure ecstasy overpowered their ability to breathe and the control over their bodies, the sensation that erupted within Eloise only being made more enjoyable at the gentle scratch of his stubble against her soft skin.

Eloise’s legs moved to wrap around his hips, her ankles locking together at the base of his back, letting out a soft, “Feel so good, Cal,” as the new angle allowed for Calum to push himself into her further, speed only picking up, and had Eloise hurdling straight for the edge. Calum had his face buried into the crook her neck, unable to comprehend a feeling as euphoric and overwhelming as this, an experience he knew he never wanted to end. “God, I’m so full.”

She really was going to be the death of him, he knew. Calum’s lips kissed her collarbones, painting new markings along her supple skin. He had to find the strength to push himself up, his torso hovering above her, hand grasping onto the back of her thigh, blunt nails leaving crescent shaped marks as his hips never once missed a beat, his entire body overwhelmed with the emotion and the feeling of just how well he fit with her, as if she were his missing piece. “You were made for me, baby,” He groaned, the praise that fell from his lips couldn’t be stopped, as he embraced everything about her. “A perfect creation, just for me.”

The moan that left Eloise only proved that she believed that. And she believed that in its entirety.

It wasn’t much longer before they were both meeting their final destinations, stomachs coiling almost painfully as their muscles convulsed at their fast-approaching orgasms. Eloise couldn’t hold back her release, not once Calum let his hand fall from her thigh to keep himself propped up, his free hand travelling down to rub fast, but loose, hypnotic circles over her clit with the calloused pad of his thumb, as he let the urging words slip from his swollen lips, “C’mon baby, let me see how pretty you are. Let me see just how pretty you are when you cum, Eloise.”

Eloise didn’t think she had it in her to force her eyes open at his enticing words, her eyes looking up and finding the beauty that was Calum above her, bringing her the kind of sensual bliss she didn’t know was possible, the man who ignited her body in a burning fire, one that caused every single nerve throughout her body to stand at full attention. All it took was for her eyes to connect with his and that was it. She was breaking in the best way possible.

Calum’s movements continued, speed never slowing, as he encouraged her to ride out the high, the warmth she embodied as she released only spurred him on, reaching his own orgasm at a speed he didn’t know how to control. The echo of skin slapping against skin and the combination of their moans captured the moment perfectly, filling the air with nothing but the pleasure they let themselves get lost in.

The kiss-swollen lips of Eloise parted in a powerful gasp as Calum continued his movements, his body yearning for the sensation he felt within her sensitive core, urging himself to remember the moment of how her name felt falling past his lips in an overpowering euphoric groan when his own orgasm finally caught up to him, washing over his entire being, and she feels him in all his glory as he deliciously spilled every ounce of himself inside of her.

Breaths were heavy, limbs were tangled as they lay together in the messy sheets, basking in a moment they knew they would never forget, in a moment they knew had changed everything for the better.

*****

19 Days Left

The sheets felt softer than the last time she found herself tangled in them. The colour of the curtains no longer puzzled her, neither did the colour of the floor, or the dog toy that had been moved to below the windowsill since she was last here. Everything was the same; still memorable. The only difference this time compared to the last was a big one. The stupid smile that spread across her face at the thought of the sleeping man next to her, his arm hooked securely around her waist as she lay in his bed, only widened as she remembered the night’s events.

The thought of him cherishing her was one she knew she would never forget, neither would the thought of how perfect he looked above her, felt inside of her, how he spoke to her was even perfect. She wanted to slap herself for feeling like a lovestruck teenager, unable to stop the rerun of the night as it played vividly in her mind. Eloise, come on!

She couldn’t help but to look at his arm, eyes picking out the ink that was scattered along his skin, her finger inquisitively coming up and running along it, tracing the lettering and over the outline of the different pictures as she smiled at the smooth feeling of his skin against hers. Eloise’s mind flashed back to what led to the events of last night, holding back a sigh at the memory at the feeling she remembered of how she felt like she was sat in a confessional, admitting to her wrong-doing and begging for forgiveness. She messed up, she knew she had hurt him, and she had only hurt herself when she learnt that the feelings he had felt towards her were genuine, them stemming from a place of kindness with nothing but good-hearted intentions, and she had quite literally taken his heart and played with the strings.

She knew it was never supposed to get to this point. Not for her anyway. She wasn’t supposed to care if Calum felt genuine towards her, she wasn’t supposed to care if he fell in love with her or not, she wasn’t supposed to catch real feelings because it was all for personal gain. It was all for a game of money. She was in pretty deep, and quite frankly she wasn’t worried – well, she was – but not about what happened to her. She worried about what Scott would say, about what Han would say. She was betraying them big time; she knew she would never be forgiven for that. She knew she would never be forgiven by them like she had been by Calum; the two other men in her life being a lot colder and having a lot more conditioning to be naturally angry. She was going to lose them; she was willing to accept that to a certain extent but that didn’t stop it from hurting still.

Thoughts travelled to the man who slept next to her, brown eyes watching as soft snores drifted from his parted lips, back rising and falling beneath the duvet, hair sticking up all different directions – much of that being her own fault – as it spread against the pillow. He was like a perfect picture, something that was to be treasured and never disturbed. He was almost too perfect to be touched, to be seen as real, but he was. He was real and he was with Eloise.

What are we? – She asked herself, letting a soft sigh fall from her lips as she lay there and watched a sleeping Calum, the sight being one she felt as though she would never get bored of watching, it filling her body with relaxation as she matched his breathing, finding herself counting each one silently. She knew they weren’t a couple; in all honesty she didn’t know what exactly would class them as a couple. Did they have to officially agree to that? But she knew they weren’t just seeing each other. Surely there was something in-between right? Was there a name for two people who felt a connection after a few days, one of them having lied to the other since the start, confessing to said lie, forgiving them, and then sleeping together? No? Okay.

It wasn’t something that she had the urge to discuss, not wanting to hear a dreaded response of nothing – that being physical or verbal. But it was still something she craved to know, something she didn’t think she would feel so desired to understand. They weren’t friends. She knew that much. But were they lovers?  

“You’re awake,” A sleep-laced grumble distracted Eloise from her thoughts, her eyes falling to feel the brown ones peeking up at her through thick eyelashes, a sleepy smile on his lips as he noticed his arm that was stretched out across her waist; it not moved since they fell asleep the night before. Eloise couldn’t not notice the subtle surprise in his voice when he saw her, the sound resulting in her own smile itching at her lips at the sight of the pretty man who lay in the bed. “I thought you would’ve been out for the count for a few more hours.”

“Unfortunately for you, sleeping beauty, I’m a morning person. I can barely sleep past ten on a good day,” She chuckled, adjusting herself so she sat up against the headboard, her soft hand coming up and combing through his curls, her lips pursed ever so slightly as she gently combed out the tugs with her fingers, feeling comfort in the small moments she could share with him. It was so comfortable, so quickly, so easy. His eyes watched her from where he lay, brown eyes searching those of Eloise as he treasured this moment.

It was as if there were no barriers between them, as if it had always been like this, as if it had always just been the two of them with no tension, no lies, and no associations that stood between them. It felt as if they had been like this for months, as if it had always meant to be. And that warmed Calum’s heart, to see Eloise so content as she focused on her hands in his hair, the little glint of concentration in her eyes as she focused on removing the knots as gently as possible, as if her hands didn’t hold the ability to destroy lives if she so wished. It was a softer side she had, one that not many saw, one that Calum felt he had begun to see from the start, it only showing itself more and more clearly with every moment he spent with her.

The involuntary soft moan he let slip was one that caused a fond smile to spread along Eloise’s lips, the sound only proving to her that he enjoyed her touch, the way her fingers worked as they curled through his hair. She remembered when her mother used to brush her hair, when she used to play with her hair, having always loved the feeling and would let her mother do it for hours. It was something that everyone enjoyed, even if they didn’t want to admit it. The soft tingle it created within the body being one that Eloise missed, a soft comfort it brought to her that she no longer could feel.

“Are we going to talk about last night?” She spoke softly, twisting a soft curl around her finger as she brushed them away from his face, her expression soft as she sat up against the headboard, hand never stopping as it continued to rake through his mop of curls. It wasn’t a mistake, she was sure of that, but she wanted to know what he thought. Did he come to regret the decision after sleeping on it? Or did he bask in the glow the thought of the night gave him inside; the burning butterflies that danced within his stomach? “Or would you rather just- “

“What about it?” He interrupted her, eyes glancing up as he perched his chin in his palm as he pushed himself up, using his bent arm beneath him to support himself. She was even more beautiful in the morning, he noted. He had saw her in the morning before, but this was different. He was with her, fully engrossed in the moment they were sharing together. There was no rush of anyone trying to escape, there was no awkward moments of trying to remember what happened. There was nothing but pure admiration as they remained in bed and shared hopeful gazes and soft touches.

“Anything, I guess,” She shrugged, her cheeks turning a light rosy shade as she looked down at the space between them, tearing her eyes from his for a moment. Why did she feel so shy all of a sudden? “Like, what happened,” God, she felt like an idiot. She really was acting like a lovestruck teenager with a painfully sickening crush. It was like being back in high school.

“I’m not sorry if that’s what you mean,” The confidence he spoke with was dizzying to Eloise, he was so sure of his answer, the smile on his lips was enough to make her want to repeat the sins of the night before all over again. Pull yourself together, she warned herself silently as she rolled her lips into her mouth, meeting his dark eyes as she tried to prepare herself for her own response.

“Me neither,” Her blunt nails gently grazed his scalp as she slowly pulled her hand away, abandoning his mop of hair before she readjusted herself on the bed, crossing her legs as she attempted to sit comfortably. Her fingers grasped the bedsheets, pulling them up to cover her bare legs in an attempt to protect them from the chill coming from the window. Although with the heat that Calum was creating, she didn’t need to worry about being cold. “I don’t regret any of last night.”

“’M glad to hear it.” He hummed, staring at her helplessly with a boyish smile spread across his lips. That fucking smile. It was going to get Eloise in so much trouble. Eloise’s eyes subtly drifted to his chest, noting the black ink she could make out from their positions, the artistry being something she always admired regardless of who it was attached to. It was something she had always considered doing, but she never had the money and never had the time. So, it was put on the backburner until a later date. Although most things that Eloise placed on the backburner ended up being forgotten, a distance wish that she would never go back to. The art reminding her of having a choice, rekindling the memory of what it felt like to live before she was tied down, it only fuelling her desire to feel that memory once more.

And Calum was her chance.

“I’m tellin’ you, you better make a breakfast as good as that beef you made when I first came over. You’ve set yourself at a high standard and I really don’t want to be disappointed,” Eloise pointed lazily at him, smiling at the memory of the dinner they shared that night; the food being something that she knew she would never forget, it was that good.

“I’m not makin’ any promises,” He laughed as he pushed himself up, sliding out of bed, stretching his arms out and releasing a deep yawn. Eloise’s eyes fell to his shirtless body, watching as every muscle twisted and bulged as he stretched; biceps curling, shoulders tensing, thighs making their presence known as he stood there in nothing but his boxer shorts in front of her. She could feel her mouth-watering at the sight, having to mentally remind herself that he wasn’t a piece of meat; no matter how tasty he looked. “But I can try my best. Anything specific takin’ your fancy or should I surprise you?”

The raise of her eyebrows was enough of an answer and he laughed, slipping into a pair of athletic shorts, and left the bedroom with a soft acknowledgement of, “Surprise it is.” Before he disappeared into the kitchen to make a start, leaving Eloise in the comfort of the creased bedsheets, alone and warm. She let out a loud exasperated breath, her chest finally feeling light as she released the weighted breath she had been holding, her mind running in circles as Eloise tried to figure out what was happening in that moment. She felt like she was dreaming, as if she were flying, it felt impossible to be living.

It was feeling like that that made her realise why she never walked away every single time she thought she should have. Last night, Eloise was trying to convince herself that she should have walked away from Calum at the very beginning, leaving his house that morning and never going back. She felt like when Han questioned her whereabouts, she should have said that he didn’t want to see her; she should have been stern. She felt like she should have picked a different victim. But when she smiled at the butterflies she felt when she was around Calum, when she felt herself laugh with him, she knew she couldn’t have done it with anyone else. She knew she couldn’t do it at all.

It’s what led to her sitting in his living room the night before, confessing to the twisted plan of the Gypsy Kings, admitting to participating with the cruel intentions, only to realise that the fake feelings she was pretending where her real ones all along; undeniably. The sight of him made her weak at the knees, made her feel guilty for ever having any form on unkindness intended towards him, made her unable to feel anything but pure admiration and infatuation for him. The little things he did; how he smiled, how he laughed, how his hair fell limp in the morning, how his fingers tapped on the steering wheel of the car in even total silence, made her realise why she stayed every time, why she could never make herself walk away and why she felt what she did for the man who unintentionally captured her heart.

The wooden floors of Calum’s bedroom felt cold against her feet, her legs carrying her around the bed and to the bedroom door. Her hands gripped hold on Calum’s shirt that he had discarded on the floor last night, tossing it over herself and nodding how it came to the perfect length as the hem resting halfway down her thighs. He wouldn’t mind right? She pulled open the bedroom door, the familiar hallway greeting her eyes as she spotted the large windows, the sunlight beaming through them due to the sociable morning hour. Her eyes caught sight of the familiar photographs along his walls, the beautiful canvas at the far end catching her attention for a few extra seconds before her brown irises fell on one familiar photograph. She stared at it with less surprise this time round, and instead of her lips trembling at the anxiety of discovering his job, she smiled at the sight of him in his blue uniform, a hint of reassurance washing over her and she thought of how proud he was of what he did, of who he was. And his family must have been too.

Bacon. She could smell bacon, and man it smelt awesome. Her eyes practically hit the back of her head in euphoria at the realisation of what the smell was. Her mouth instinctively salivating at the thought of greasy bacon, it being something that she always enjoyed. It was impossible to mess up bacon. Well, she hoped. She walked into the open plan area of the house, smiling at the sight of Calum stood over the stove, his back facing her as he focused on the meat that was frying away in the pan in front of him. He looked at peace when he was cooking, his muscles were relaxed apart from the one in his brow, constantly furrowed in concentration as if to make sure he didn’t mess up what he trying to cook.

She made her way into the kitchen, smiling fondly as she perched herself up to sit on the kitchen counter next to the sink, her head tilting to the side as she admired the sight of him. He stood in his dark blue shorts; hands occupied as he hummed along to whatever song what was playing on the radio by his window. It sounded like typical breakfast radio, the upbeat voices of the presenters trying to boost the moods of many early risers as they made their way to work, filling the kitchen before they dispersed and a recognisable song in the charts played in their place, filling the room with music.

Her brown eyes fell to the couch on the far side of the room, smiling as she recognised the familiar lump of fur that lay curled up on the cushion, big eyes meeting hers from the other side of the house. “I think he’s upset with me,” Eloise couldn’t hold back the giggle, disrupting the silence and tearing Calum’s attention away from the pork in the pan and the voices on the radio as his eyes turned and met the familiar cocoa ones that belonged her. She pointed over to where Duke lay on the couch, chuckling fondly at the recollection of she first met the pup. “I think I stole his bed last night, whoops.”

Calum couldn’t hide his chuckle at the realisation, smiling as he turned back to pan with a shake of his head. “He’ll get used to it.” He chimed, using the tongs in his hand to remove the cooked pieces of meat from pan before placing another few strips on the heat, a loud sizzle erupting from the connection between raw meat and burning metal.

“And why would he?” She asked knowingly, smiling at the thought of this becoming a regular occurrence. A genuine regular occurrence. Eloise found herself liking the idea of this becoming her new normal; being in the kitchen in the morning with someone cooking for her, a dog wandering around minding its own business, and having nothing but happiness cloud the room as the two people in it enjoyed one another’s company. It was a secret dream that Eloise didn’t talk about too often; usually only when she got drunk enough but the sad kind of drunk. She did have one dream that she denied herself; one where she with someone, someone she loved dearly; someone who loved her, and they grew together, owned a home together, and raised a family together. It was something that she secretly wanted but had written it off long ago, the mere idea becoming a joke to her. It was never going to happen for a girl like her and she was more than willing to accept that.

“Bacon’s ready if you want some,” His voice spoke up, head nodding towards the plate of piping hot bacon that sat on the counter, ignoring her question, both of them knowing exactly what he meant, “You’ll find the butter on the bottom shelf in the fridge and the rolls are in the cupboard next to it.” His hand pointed behind him towards the silver appliance, head quickly turning to glance at her as a smile graced his features, the sight of her in his shirt finally sinking in and catching his eye.

Calum swore he felt his boxers tighten at the view if front of him, his throat drying as he tried to compute between his brain and his body, trying to control himself. It was just a shirt, he told himself. Just a shirt. Cheeks flushed, Calum coughed a little to clear his throat, blinking rapidly a few times before turning his head and focusing back onto the hot pan in front of him. It’s just a shirt, Calum. He had to remind himself that he had seen her naked for crying out loud, why was seeing her in his shirt causing him to have a somewhat similar reaction? Oh yeah… Okay, don’t think about that, that’s not helping.

Eloise noticed his reaction; the way his cheeks flushed, and the way his Adam’s apple bopped as his eyes cascaded down her figure – as subtly as possible – so he could drink in the woman who stood in his kitchen. It made her feel as though she wanted to shy away like a child but there was something inside her that craved having his eyes on her, as if there were no other place where she wanted them to be.

It blew her mind when she thought about it; how every single feeling she had felt since the moment their lips connected last night suddenly made sense of everything. It had opened her eyes and let her see what was right in front of her since that very night. Eloise couldn’t help but wonder if this is what her parents once felt; a self-embrace as you looked on at someone who made you feel as though you were suffocating but in the best way. She wondered what it felt like for them, hopelessly lovestruck, with nothing but eyes for one another, she wondered what would have happened if her dad didn’t live as he did. Maybe they would’ve been happier, maybe they would still be alive.

She knew her mother would be proud of her for listening to her heart, always knowing that her mother pushed for her to follow the steady beat of the organ and to do what she felt was right. Her dad, on the other hand, was the tactful thinker; always planning ahead of what his next move would be in all walks of life. For so long, his method made sense to her but it was what had caused her to become so unhappy in the way she lived, something that she hadn’t fully come to realise until her heart spoke up, until her mother helped her.

Eloise took her place at the counter beside Calum, smiling to herself as she buttered a few rolls and made the bacon sandwiches. It blew her mind how so quickly she had accepted what she felt; how normal this felt. And she knew, she was going to enjoy every second that she could get before she would have to face the reality of what this admission brought forward for the both of them.

Warm arms slipped around her waist as a tender presence was felt behind her, soft full lips finding the crook of her neck like they had last night as Calum held her, distracting her from the mundane task she was trying to perform. He was good at that already: distracting. “Bacon smells good,” She commented, closing over a roll and placing it down on a small plate to her left.

“You smell pretty good too,” He hummed, pulling her tightly against his chest, erupting a giggle from Eloise as she smirked at his remark. His eyes trailed over the skin of her neck; bruised from his lips and the assault he struck upon the blank canvas last night, his mind remembering the path he had paved out along her body, the urge inside him burning with desire to walk it again, and again, and again. He wanted to walk that descent for the rest of his days.

“Take your stupid breakfast and sit down,” Eloise scoffed playfully, her head shaking as she handed him his plate before making her way over to his dining table, feeling how his arms dropped from her as he took the plate before joining her.

She couldn’t ignore how his knee brushed her own every few minutes, as if he were reminding himself that she was still there, real, and not just in his imagination. The breakfast was good, Eloise sucking the salty grease from her fingers after picking up a piece of bacon that had slipped from the confinements of her bread roll. She could feel the burning eyes from across the table, unable to hide the pouting smirk that she wore at the expression on his face she caught in the corner of her eye. She knew what she was doing.

Calum couldn’t help but bask in how good that moment felt, the simple act of sharing a breakfast together filling him with a fulfilling feeling that he felt as though he had always searched for. His eyes watched Eloise as she ate, wishing that he could spend every morning like this; in peace and in happiness with her. Her eyes met his, the hairs of his leg brushing against her own limb as he slid it to rest against her soft skin, her touch bringing a comfort to him as they sat together. He knew they had things to talk about, but he couldn’t help but want to ignore them for as long as possible, to enjoy every moment he could have with her with no interruptions. And she wanted the same, badly, but they both knew they couldn’t avoid the elephant in the room much longer.

It was time to bite the bullet and ask themselves the burning questions.

“How are we going to handle this?” Eloise was the first to speak, taking the first swing at the invisible wall they had silently put up to forget about what brought them together, her knee knocking against his gently as if to try and make sure the same comforting aura remained between them. “They can’t know about us, no one can. Not until this over.”

Instinctively Calum nodded, he knew she was right. Nobody; no cops, or gang bangers, could know about them until this was over. Of course, Han and a few members knew about them already, but no one knew about them. And that was how they needed to keep it. As far as anyone else was aware, everything between them was fake when it came to Eloise, and nobody could think otherwise.

“Doesn’t mean we need to act any different though,” He let a shrug fall from his shoulders, large hand reaching out and capturing hers in a soft hold, turning the limbs over so he could laced his fingers between her small ones, a soft smile being shared between them at the pure sight, “You just need to give them the fake intel on our investigations like we agreed, mislead them into thinking that you’ve pushed us in an opposite direction, so they think they stand a chance,”

Eloise couldn’t tear her hand from where their hands joined, the size of his compared to her own was almost laughable, it consumed her small fist with ease. His hold was warm, comforting, dizzying, and she couldn’t get enough of it. She had grown up holding guns, knives, liquor bottles, and endless numbers of dirty money bags in the palms of her hands, and she knew that with the simple touch of Calum’s palm in hers that she would choose to not touch anything else as long as she lived. He was truly breaking her, breaking down every wall she had built over the years, making his stand as the one who could free her heart.

When she sat there, holding his hand, she felt as though she could breathe, as if she was living, truly living, like every cold restraint she had tied around her heart over the years of feeling afraid, of being alone, were breaking when he looked at her, with every simple smile she felt like her heart could beat again, it could beat freely as she drank in every beautiful second that she shared with him.

The way her heartbeat vibrated within her chest reminded her of a time when she last felt truly alive; a time where she last felt whole. The photograph she found on her Instagram that day at the café, the last happy trip her and her parents had taken together before everything fell apart. She labelled that day as the last one she remembers smiling with nothing but love, the day that makes her heart bleed with pain at the knowledge that she’ll never experience that day again. But being with Calum reignited that feeling of warmth in her heart that she felt, reminding her what it was like to forget the pain she had become so engrossed in.

It was all she had ever wanted; to be able to forget and to be able to embrace memories that she could associate with nothing but positive feelings.

Maybe Paige really was right… Maybe Eloise was falling in love.

But wasn’t it a bit quick? Eloise couldn’t even be sure that it was how she was feeling. Maybe it was just the effects of their night playing with her heart? No, definitely not. She decided to push the thoughts to the back of her mind; a box to delve into another time.

“They don’t need to know what doesn’t concern them, just let them believe whatever they want,” Calum spoke kindly, eyes detecting the undeniable paranoia that itched across her face. It scared her a bit, or better said; they scared her. She had never been afraid of any of the Gypsy Kings before, but that was before she got romantically involved with a cop, especially one that she was supposed to use to their advantage. “El, just tell them what you need to in order to keep them happy. You just need to keep them happy until that shipment comes in, and then let us do the rest. And until then, I’ll keep the cops off your backs, okay?”

They had a plan. Eloise had kept herself awake half of the night once Calum fell asleep, reciting it in her head, drilling it into herself as if to try and convince herself that it would actually work. Of course, it was going to work, it had to work. They had laid together and figured out what they needed to do in order to construct the downfall of the gang Eloise once considered to be her family.

They were to continue as expected, Eloise would report back to the Kings about her progress with Calum, hand them false information regarding the NYPD’s knowledge of the shipment, claiming that she’s attempting to set up a diversion to distract the police so they can follow through with the capture of the shipment. Eloise would keep Calum in the loop with the details regarding the deal, keeping the tip offs as anonymous letters he would mysteriously find that he could use to strengthen the precinct’s case against the gang.

They had planned for Calum and whoever else he would bring to wait a mile or so out of the boat yard, to wait until a certain time or for a code word to be spoken to indicate that Eloise was ready for them to rumbled. They’d discussed the possibility of her wearing a wire, the details still being hazy as she wasn’t sure if what was the best course of action.

Calum had worked out an escape plan for Eloise, explaining that if she had the chance, she needed to run and hide, expressing his feelings regarding the idea of her being in prison. He had made her aware of a broken fence at the southside of the yard – being familiar with the area – explaining that she could sneak out through there and try to get away. He assured that he would try to prevent her from being snatched up by the police, wanting her to have her chance at freedom instead of being locked in a cell for the rest of her days.

He didn’t want that for her, and neither did she. But he knew it was better than her being shot. Well, he thought it was. Eloise knew, deep down, that she wasn’t going to survive prison if she was put there. No snitches ever lasted long once the word got out. Eloise knew she had two options; she either ran or she didn’t make it out of that boat yard alive. Calum had instructed Eloise to never stop running if she managed to escape, telling her to run and get out of New York as fast as she could, to go somewhere no one would know to look and to start somewhere new, to start again.

It’s all Eloise had ever wanted; to see somewhere new and to have a fresh start. She thought about it more often than not, but now she couldn’t see herself doing that. Not without Calum being included in that new beginning. God, she was getting too attached too quickly. She felt so stupid for thinking they could do that, that they would be able to run away together and build a life somewhere that no one knew their names or knew of her past.

But hey, a girl could dream.

Eloise queried about proof, asking about what she would do if the Gypsy Kings wanted proof of her work with Calum; something to back up what she says, to assure them that she was doing as she was asked. “They’re gullible but not entirely stupid,” She informed him, a soft sigh leaving her chest as she saw the gaze Calum had on her. He looked so helplessly smitten, a lopsided boyish smirk on his face as he watched her lips move with every word; a sight he loved.

“We can arrange a run in or something, make it seem as though we’re out on a walk or we’re on a date and you run into a familiar face in the street. I’ll even let you hold my hand and I can act incredibly loved up if need be, and we’ll play it from there,” His fingers squeezed hers reassuringly, “Honestly, El, you worry so much. We have time to work everything out, we’ve got weeks left,” He was right; the shipment wasn’t arriving for a few more weeks, so they had time to fill in the cracks and build on their plan. Eloise had time to lie, but this time for the right reasons.

She couldn’t stop the teasing smirk on her lips as she let out a coy, “I’m not sure much acting will be required on your part,” Her playful giggle was a sound he wanted to replay, a sound he wanted to save for those lonely nights when he couldn’t sleep. As much as he didn’t want to admit so quickly; she was right. He was so helplessly smitten with her and he didn’t know how to stop, nor did he want to.

Calum tugged her hand gently towards him, requesting for her to move closer to him with a quiet, “C’mere.”. Her eyes never left him as she stood to her feet, moving around the table, arms moving to wrap around his neck as she adjusted herself as she straddled him on the dining chair, the warmth that his hands radiated through the fabric of his shirt that she wore ignited the spark in her stomach again, every nerve ending within her body standing up attentive as she focused on his fingertips, one hand sliding down her waist and resting rather comfortably on the side of her thigh. The textured skin beneath his fingers created an almost uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, his hand moving so his fingers weren’t brushing against where her scar sat. He didn’t ask about it; sensing it wasn’t something she was ready to disclose with him yet. The combination of their hot skin felt like a fire dance, both of them unbearably close to one another and yet both fighting to resist the urge to lose themselves within one another for a second time in the same twenty-four hours. God, the things that boy could do with the simplest look.

The difference in Eloise was almost monumental, a change that she never thought would happen, the speed of such a transformation unsettling her ever so slightly. She had gone from being a closed book, a locked chest at the bottom of the ocean with no key in sight. She was so apprehensive when it came to her feelings before; locking them away until they clawed at the cage to get out momentarily before she found control again and regained stability once more, but since Calum stole her table at the bar that night, she found the security around her emotions beginning to chip away.

From what started off as a mere throwaway fling – a failed one at that – to a game for selfish personal gain, to where they stood now; it was something that knocked Eloise for six. It was all supposed to be fake, something she would forget even happened in a months’ time but in reality, it was an experience that had changed her life. From how she started with a simple sexual attraction to a good looking stranger in a bar, she had developed true feelings and what felt like an emotional connection; one that she knew she wouldn’t feel anywhere else to the man who’s heart she could hear beating in her ears as she sat with merely inches between them.

Her fingers snuck into the back of his hair, fingertips curling around the locks that coiled at the nape of his neck, a gentle smile across her lips as she just looked at him, admiring everything she could see as she sat in the silence. Voices in her head fought for pride of place, a million questions being thrown around that she tried so desperately to ignore.

Would she come to regret letting her heart make this decision; to allow herself to become an open book and allowing for someone, especially someone who she was supposed to have a hatred for, to read every metaphorical word that itched across her skin as it told her story? There was no definite answer, not one that Eloise could feel confident in giving herself, but that didn’t stop her from silently begging – praying – for it to never be the case.

The way his blunt nails were dragging along her thigh were distracting, the tickle from his fingers sparking a smirk from her as he slowly pushed the fabric of his shirt up, eventually allowing it to bunch at her hips as she sat perched in his lap. With a raise of her eyebrows she quipped, “And what do you think you’re doing?”. She pursed her lips a little, the slight action urging Calum to kiss her again, the internal battle he was having with himself over if he should just carry her straight back into the bedroom was painful, the urge feeling as though it was primal.

Eloise’s dark eyes watched as his Adam’s apple worked in his throat, the expenditure of his neck tempting her to coat it in colourful markings again like she had the night before, the light bruises beginning to take their true form as the colours contrasted against his brown skin. There was no other way she wanted to spend her time, other than being wrapped up in his sheets, dead to world as she lay with him. She wanted to forget the plan ever existed, her eyes only focusing on the god in front of her.

“I think it’s about time I show you just how beautiful I think you are,” His let the words fall in a mesmerising breath, as if he didn’t even give himself time to think them over, it being the first thought that came to him when he looked at her. “I want to cherish every single inch of you,” The whisper was deep, the little pause between those three words that rang in Eloise’s ears not going unnoticed alongside the hint of a groan lingering in his throat as he rolled his lips into his mouth almost painfully, the animal inside of him stirring at the sensation of her sitting on top of him. His desire to ravish her was too strong that he couldn’t fight it any longer, just like he couldn’t last night, he couldn’t hold himself together around her, not once he saw that side of her.

Eloise bit back the moan that fought to leave her, biting her tongue to try to silence it, as if to try and fight the effect his words had on her. Although she knew, there was no way in hiding what he did to her, knowing he could feel it just like she could. The sensation of his fingers playing with the elastic of her underwear only spurred her on, causing her to work harder to prevent the pleasurable noises that Calum wanted to hear so badly. The only sound she could muster the strength to make was a simple whimper, her voice shaking as her eyes slowly closed and her lips connected with his own.

“Then prove it,”

She knew she was done for; a complete mess of limbs and noises at the hands of a man who knew exactly how to treat her. And she couldn’t feel better about it than in that moment.

---

Tag List: @steviemae​ @elsysoza​ @treatallwithkindness​ @oopsiedoopsie23​

[shinsoukokuvalentine]

Ignite

(Another fic based off a song I associate with Sskk: Sam Smith’s Fire on Fire. This song is so beautiful and I hope I do it justice! Also Watership Down is beautiful too please watch the rabbits that kill each other and make me cry)

335/365: Ignite

-

“What are you doing?”

Atsushi jumps, small hands nearly dropping the flower he holds. He turns around abruptly, staring with wide eyes at the headmaster who looms over him, blocking out the sun like a rain cloud. His sharp tone causes Atsushi to curl up around the flower as if guarding it.

But the headmaster reaches down and snatches it effortlessly, even with Atsushi’s cry of protest, arms reaching up to a man nearly a meter taller than him.

The headmaster’s gaze travels around the corner that Atsushi hides behind, scowling a little at the girl playing there.

“You think she’d ever love you?” He mutters. Nervously, Atsushi looks towards the ground, hands wringing together.

“I was… Gonna give it to her…” He whimpers, lip quivering.

The blow across his cheek echoes across the orphanage’s dilapidated playground, and Atsushi has to bite his lip to keep from screaming. The blood tastes familiar on his tongue.

“Idiot boy.”

He grabs onto Atsushi’s arm, dragging him inside, even as he looks behind himself at the girl once more, something in his chest shattering irreparably.

“It’s pointless for you to try to love another,” the headmaster snaps.

“No one will love you.”

And Atsushi had believed that for years. He never forgot the headmaster’s words, never tried again, snuffed out any feelings of affection that happened to stir in his chest. As soon as his horrific Ability was revealed to him, it only solidified this mentality; who could ever love a monster, a bloodthirsty beast?

But then he saw him.

For the longest time, he denied it. The pounding of his heart was only adrenaline. The heat in his face was only nervousness, embarrassment. His desire to be close to him was only in the interest of keeping an eye on him.

But things develop far too quickly. Perhaps it’s because he’s more mature now, more experienced, more loved than ever before from his colleagues at the Agency. Or maybe he’s just touch starved.

Whatever the reason, he doesn’t move away the first time Akutagawa leans on his shoulder. And suddenly romantic dreams that Atsushi had buried since childhood come crashing through the surface.

That isn’t the end of their conflict, of course. They still fight at first, clashing like lions, roaring at each other and going for blood. But in the end, they know those words, the ones hurled at each other in the heat of anger and pain, mean nothing. They curl up closer together and sleep to forget, tearstains on at least one of their faces. The warmth of their embrace holds more truth than any insult.

Akutagawa begins to bring flowers. Lilies that they kiss behind, rose petals that become scattered across their bed, geranium bulbs for planting in his new window box. Even when their organizations start to put the pieces together and question their loyalties, they stand together with hands entwined. No rule or disapproval is allowed between them.

They don’t need to exchange words any longer. In Akutagawa’s arms, Atsushi simultaneously feels breathless and safe. Everything he had been told, everything he had believed about being unworthy of love, is stolen away by Akutagawa and buried where Atsushi will never find it.

It feels like being surrounded by flames. Their hearts clash together, heat surrounding them, but neither of them burn. They don’t care if no one understands them; they know the perfection in what they have, and they don’t need anyone else to validate them.

Atsushi knows. He knows whenever Akutagawa holds his chin, rubbing his thumb across his cheek, unfolding Atsushi like an origami crane, spreading its wings.

“I love you,” he whispers, looking into Atsushi’s eyes. Atsushi’s heart rises to his throat.

“I love you too,” he whispers, breathless, chest swelling.

And now he knows he’s worthy of love.

[kellyvision]

LOCO

Sasha stars in Kells’ music video while their complex relationship... uh, situation, continues to blur lines they are obviously not ready for within their friends with benefit like definition.

If y’all want more and didn’t cringe from this please let me know. Hope y’all like it. -kellyvision

                                    ***********

I sat on the bed in a lingerie set, aesthetically positioned by the director. I watched as K animatedly talked to the DP and the Director about the storyboard of the visual album. Getting impatient, I sighed to myself.  We had a whole day to shoot. Call time was six in the morning. 

The way he expressed his creativity happened to be cute. I knew he wanted to show out like the attention whore he was and make an extra ass video of him pretending to fuck me on camera so the whole world would not to touch me.  He thinks I am stupid but I knew he had an ulterior motive. The man is so territorial and jealous, he is branding my forehead for the world to see. 

Not like anybody had a chance. 

But knowing how deep his trust issues run, he wouldn’t believe me if I was God and Kells knew exactly what to say to me. He was a master manipulator. He just had to bat his long thick eyelashes at me and I caved. So when he told me I was his muse, I couldn’t stop myself from giggling like the slut I am.

What a white man’s whore.

This recent addition to our “friendship” had only solidified my intense attachment to him. I was a delusional for so long that I had to keep pinching myself that we both were actually dating one another. Was my need to be around him 24/7 a little toxic? Maybe. We might have the tendency to be co-dependent on each other, but I love him. 

I don’t even love myself.

It was pathetic. I know. 

The more I watched him, the more turned on I became. Pete was joking around the other day when and said that K was a sex addict and he couldn’t stopped if he had a gun to his head. Kells then got the bright idea to stop having sex in order to bring out our natural chemistry on camera. The only problem he wasn’t the only sex addict in this relationship.

I have been deprived. 

All the times he was allowed to finger pop his dirty fingernails in me, without washing his hands, in public- I laid in this bed with regret and frustration. I never punished him with sex but he was so quick to punish me. Whatever he can do, I can do twice as bad. I could ruin his whole life if I wanted to. I scowled at him, my eyes piercing though the back of his Invader Zim shaped head.

Men will always have the audacity, I sneer under my breath.

I felt myself pout a little as I wallow in my sexual frustration, the way the cloth of the lace panty rubbed against my clit was uncomfortable as I became moist between my thighs.

I begged him to fuck me this morning but he yelled at me. I remembered his attitude and the little altercation that happened too. I let him think he was in control. It was all part of my plan to get what I wanted. Am I an emotionally and mentally unstable person? Maybe but two of us can play this game.

Checkmate. 

                                    ***********

“Please let me put my mouth on you” I whispered in his ear, I sucked on his earlobe. My lips pressed against his jaw line and then made its way down to his neck. 

He ignored me as he continued to write an email on his phone.

My leg was stretched out on his lap as my bare pussy was angled against his gym shorts-clad thighs, I began to rub my pussy against him until I felt friction against his bare skin as his shorts rode up.

I pressed my succulent lips onto the corner of his mouth and lined his jaw with kisses. I started to suck his neck again, I felt him breathe a little heavier. He snaked his arm so that he could hold me better, he tossed his phone towards the seats in front of us. He lifted me against his hardening cock. I grinded against him as he massaged my ass and brought me closer to his body. I sloppily sucked his tongue into my mouth. He bit my lip and his tongue took dominance.

I knew his ass missed me too.

I pulled back. “Colson” My voice begged for permission, and he nodded.

I slipped my hands beneath his shirt. I traced my fingertips against his abs. I teased him as I ghosted around his crotch, and the anticipation had him buckle against me. I couldn’t wait any longer. He watched me from his half-lidded lustful eyes. 

I cupped him through his underwear when I was about to pull him out; his phone rang and he answered the call, and he swatted my hands away from him. I looked at him in embarrassment. I felt blood pool towards the back of my neck and ears.

“I thought-” I sat there confused.

“I don’t want you” he snapped and then continued the rest of his conversation on the phone.

I sat in faux shock, he left me on my knees, the position went from empowering to degrading in mere seconds. I can’t believe he rejected me...again. 

I shriveled back to my seat. I left a huge space between Kells and me, it was getting bigger as the dismissive silence filled the emptiness in the car. I curled against the window facing away from him.

It didn’t occur to me that I was crying until I started sniffling.

Hot angry tears poured down my face.

I couldn’t stop it cos I was tired, hungry, and sexually frustrated. Every emotion hit me at once. I angrily wiped my tears away.

He looked at me oddly, “I have to go, I call so we can schedule the meeting”. He ended his call.

“Are you fuckin crying” he unsympathetically asked. I ignored him and smirked against the window trying not blow my cover. 

“I don’t have time for you to be actin cranky, stop acting like a little girl, we are about to arrive on set in 30 minutes, you got about 5 minutes to stop your shit” he demanded.

He was so disrespectful. Someone needs to teach him on how to deal with a woman. This only made me cry “harder”. 

He tried to pull me towards him, but I shrugged him off. “I don’t want you” I threw back in his face.

“Stop acting like a little bitch, I didn’t mean it that way baby, c’mere”

I shook my head.

He yanked me towards him, he whispered into the side of my head, “I’m sorry, please forgive me, I didn’t mean to make you cry” he kissed my wet cheek and then softly kissed my lips. “Even though you look so beautiful like this”

He then wiped my tears away. He kissed me again and tried to deepen the kiss but I turned my head away from him.

“Stop being difficult” he pulled my chin towards him and pressed his lips against mine. I eventually gave in and reciprocated his tongue motions.

Kells snaked his hands up my dress and he cupped my pussy and I couldn’t help my moan in anticipation. I always get what I want, I pressed myself closer to him wanting to feel more friction.

“I’m crazy for you know that,” He said into my lips.

“I give you whatever you want” he rubbed his fingers against my clit.

He lifted me to so I could straddle his lap.

“Wearing no panties, do you like when I have to punish you?”

Punish me? I’m gonna punish you sweetheart. Men are so weak and stupid. 

He thrusts a finger inside me and tapped inside of my wall causing wetness to leak out, his lips traveled to my cleavage as he sucked on my puffy nipple, he bit on to it as I became a mess in his lap.

I threw my head back as I felt the build-up of my impending orgasm, I wanted him so bad. I whimpered at the loss of his fingers. He thrusted his soaked fingers into my mouth while he unzipped himself and thrusts his cock inside of me.

Tears fell because it felt so fucking good, his dick pistoled in and out of me, he hammered into me. After I sucked his fingers clean he grabbed my neck by the side and squeezed harder with each thrust. The visceral look in his eyes made me shake with lust.

With his other hand, he slapped my ass cheeks, I felt them throbbing. I was so close. His grip on my neck was tight and he carefully wiped my tears. I was a mess and I was crying for release, every synapse in my body was about to explode. The nerves were so sensitive, I was teetering on the edge, K roughly rubbed my clit.

“Stop, please I can’t” I said weakly.

Kells looked me in the eyes and rubbed faster. The feeling of pressure building between my legs and my stomach muscles tightening, I felt a tsunami of pleasure crash into me as I couldn’t control the noise or liquid that came out of me.

K’s dick was soaked with my juices. His hand on my clit didn’t move as I continued to cum.

“Isn’t this what you wanted” he sarcastically pointed out. 

“Cum for me” Kells breathed against my neck as he bit my jugular. 

I came harder as he rubbed my clit. I splashed his lap as I squirted and liquid pooled against the seat. I tried to catch my breath as sobs racked my body. I clung on to his body.

“Suck me off” Kells commanded, I obediently got down on my knees and swallowed him whole, as he held my head down.

Tears followed and sucked him to his base as he bobbed my head, hitting the back of my throat. I felt his dick throb and twitch before releasing in my mouth. He emptied his load down my throat and made sure I swallowed every drop.

He put himself back into his pants. I crawled to sit on his lap. I curled into him he wiped my tear streaked face.

“so beautiful”. He kissed brushed his tongue against mine and tasted himself.

Just you wait on what I got in store for you. 

                                    ***********

He loved it when I cried for him, I know he was eating up the fact how distraught he had me feeling over the loss of his dick. Yet I always get what I wanted. 

I still didn’t have enough of him.

His underwear sat right below his thick V cut. His abs were glistening with the baby oil I rubbed into his skin. I closed my eyes thinking about the last time he made me squirt before this morning, he had me squirting everywhere that night, it was such surprise to us, cos it was the first time it happened with just his dick, it probably had a lot to do with the fact I ate an edible and that shit kicked in heavy as fuck. It wouldn’t fuckin stop, it was like a water fountain.

Kells called me his fountain of youth after that. He always brought it up in public and no one else knows what the fuck he is talking about. 

I barely shifted my hips so that my clit would rub against something giving me some release.

“Sash, you good” K asked.

I just nodded, kind of embarrassed cos I was caught. 

“Imma need you to bring your A game. I want you to lick my stomach and shit, whatever feels right, when I give him the heads up, he’ll yell action, the scene will start. We doing B-Roll, so we gonna have to shoot 20 different sex scenes and shit, just in case I want to edit something different”

“This is a whole production” I laughed at him.

“I’m finna start filming when we alone so we can have more intimate moments like the one we had in the car this morning” he smirked.

I pushed him away. “You so nasty” I lick my lips at him.

“You love it” He pinched my ass.

“I do” I smiled at him.

“You ready” he looked at me and I nodded.

K gave a thumbs up to the director. The director yelled action, and slowly Kells came crawling to me, starting sucking my neck and kissing my chest. I forgot they were about 10 cameras on me and lights shining down, I started acting ambitious. I was gonna fuck with him a little and finally put my plan into action.I grinded my hips up to meet him and he barely flinched. He held my hips down and whispered into my ear. 

“Don’t fuck with me” he said.

“Kiss me” I pouted back.

Kells pressed his plump lips to mine and I connected to his face roughly. I wanted him so badly I felt my clit throb. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he thrusted his hips into me. He was gonna get so mad at me for what I am about to do. I sneak my hand down his pants grab his dick and hear him lightly moan. He gives me a look of disbelief, I just give him a seductive smile.

“Behave” he mouths to me.

He pins both my wrists above my head, I am no longer in control. I guess he wants to play dirty. I flip him with my body weight so that I am straddling him.

I pin his hands down and he begins to laugh at me and I just kiss the tip of his nose. Out of nowhere he gets out of my hold and picks me up and sits me on top of his face. I never been this vulnerable in my life. He really is petty. I decide to twerk on his mouth, I could feel his wet tongue lap me over my lace panties.

I stand and face the opposite direction, instead of the headboard and continue twerking for him. I could tell he super distracted with my ass shaking in his face. I sneakily unclip my lace bra from the back. He still hasn’t noticed what I am about to do. I fling the bra on the floor. I feel him tense a little as he realizes everyone can see my breasts, and that there are recordings of me basically being a porn star.

I shake my ass some more and turn around to face Kells again, I put my black heel lightly on his crotch and drag it up slowly to his windpipe. I put a little pressure on him. I remove it once I feel I’ve emasculated him enough in front of our company. Once I pull my heel off his throat, I gracefully walk down from the bed and strut to the middle of the room, I stop once I know every camera can get a full view of me. K sits at the foot of the bed, I bend slowly so he could get the full view, and I slowly untie the flimsy g string that flossed my ass.

I toss it in his face, I slowly walk offset into my makeshift dressing room. I hear a lot of silence maybe cos I was running on pure adrenaline. I hear a loud cut, and Kells shouting. Then I hear his footsteps come into my dressing room with a red face. I don’t know if he is turned on or mad. I actually think I might be in trouble.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

I didn’t say anything to him, so I just shrugged.

He pulled me to his chest. 

“You’re mine, who told you to do all of that, no one. You got me fucked up, no ones post to see you naked, you know I’m crazy. You got me looking stupid.”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatic ass.

“Well maybe if you didn’t disrespect me earlier in the car, I wouldn’t have to teach you how to respect me” I shot back.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me” He yelled.

“You can’t tell me what to do bitch” I pushed him away from me.

“Don’t call me a bitch, Sasha”

“Oh but you get to, I just think its funny how you think its cool to come with all that energy, especially to the one person, or should I say bitch, that puts up with your bullshit. You didn’t disrespect me before you started to put your dick in me, maybe we should go back to being just friends”

Maybe I did this on purpose cos I wanted him to declare it himself. Maybe I was acting out cos I wanted him to say it out loud, obviously, he couldn’t control his emotions when he was angry.

I knew he would feel some type of way. He paced around the room as I bit my lip. 

I anticipated what he was going to do next. I’m always submissive, I blurred so many lines, that I am sure I got to him when I put my heel on his throat.

I let him pull me and bend me over the couch. 

He wasted no time.

His dick thrusted inside of me without warning, and I had to hold my moan in, I felt K pull on to my hips as he hammered into my vagina, he slammed my pelvis into him. His roughness made my eyes roll to the back of my head. He was stroking my g-spot so repetitively he knew what he was about to do.

I felt my vagina contract uncontrollably around his dick. He hadn’t said a word to me yet, but this role-play was so fuckin hot, I couldn’t take it.

The more he swiveled his penis in the right angles, I felt a familiar sensation of release, my orgasm was so far away but I knew that I was about to release the fountain of youth.

“K, please stop, I am gonna make a mess, please stop” I begged him but he knew what he was doing on purpose.

The levee broke as I squirted all over him, uncontrollably. My thighs shook as my clit erected and streams of arousal splashed on to the couch, floor and Kells.

K flipped me on my back and started to play with my clit as he continued to thrust inside of me.

The next wave came harder and longer. The moment he completed one circle against my sensitive clit elicited pints of squirt.

I couldn’t stop squirting, it was splashing all over K’s chest and face.

Tears started to fall from my ducts out of pure pleasure, my clit was so sensitive. With each stroke, I could feel my stomach clenching, the muscles in my body were tightening, as the waves of pleasure began to build, and my walls pounded as my clit throbbed against Kells’ fingertips.

My pussy was making all types of water sounds, which I knew turned him on even more. His thrusts become erratic with every sound effect.

The building pressure was intensifying with continued combo of thrusts and friction against my clit, I felt my vagina contract harder and harder. His dick pushing into that button over and over and over. My body freezes and all I could feel was my soul floating. I’m moaning and squirting, Kells enters me again, thrusting as fast as possible, while my vagina is milking his dick.

Kells body twitched as he emptied himself inside of me. He pulled his thick throbbing cock out of my pulsating cunt. As I contracted, his cum seeped out of my tight apex. He rubbed the head spreading his cum around my clit, each time he rubbed against me I swear I was going into anaphylactic shock from being sensitive.

Kells entered me a few times, very slowly. I held him from pulling out and I looked into him, Kells patted my leg so that I could wrap my legs around him. When I did, he lifted me from the couch, so he could sit, as I lay on top of him, still attached. As he relaxed, he wiped the tears from my face and tiredly smiled at me.

“Are you gonna apologize to me” he cockily asked.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, that’s not my fault you have a weak male ego” I smiled into his neck.

“You knew that little stunt would’ve made me mad” he raised his eyebrow at me.

My shoulder began to shake into him as he joined me in laughter.

“Like I said I always get what I want and I wanted to fuck you again” I licked his jawline as he sighed into me. 

“You could have asked nicely” He placed his hand on my hip.

“Where’s the fun in that” I spoke on the lips.

“So crazy” he whispered into my mouth, I swallowed his tongue. He started thrusting into me again, I gave him a throated moan. As he fucked me, it was a good ache and I didn’t want him to stop. I rocked back and forth in his lap as he thrust into my wetness ever so slowly.

“You feel so good” I threw my head back as I held on to his chest.

“You are loco” He grunted as his thrusts began to slow.

“Te gusto” I smirked at him.

Kells shook his head in laughter. 

“C’mon girl, we need to get back on set” He slapped my butt as he pulled me off of his dick.

I groaned at the absence. He walked away to the bathroom, as I stretched out on the couch face down. I dozed off a little and heard the sound of my skin smacking against K’s hand, I gave him seductive moan knowing it would get a rise out him.

“I am tired, I need a nap” I mumbled into the sofa cushion.

“Take a quick shower and we need to film” he clapped his hands fast.

I got up and dragged myself to the bathroom complaining every chance I got.

“If you stop pouting, I’ll give you a massage as soon as we get home, okay” he promised and rubbed my back. He gave me a kiss.

“I don’t have a choice” I yell after him as he walks out.

I pulled it together and promised myself I wouldn’t sabotage him. The quicker were done, the faster I could be with him naked. That was the only thing getting me through the day. Surprisingly enough, I got through different scenes, acting in different positions in the bed. 

It was so hot watching the playback. Kells sucked my nipples in one of the sex scenes. He wanted a documentary style for his visual album. I was doing B-roll of random things, singing while cooking, me combing my hair in the bathroom, there was even a shower scene, where I was pretty naked but the fog, stream of water coming down my body and shots of parts of my baby oil soaked body were artistically filmed where it didn’t look too revealing.

Once we were done, I changed into one of Kell’s oversized tour merch shirts. I threw on some slides. I took some Clorox wipes and sanitized the faux leather couch we fucked on. I felt a little bad. I also picked up the towels on the floor and threw them into the dirty pile. Kells walked in as I was getting my stuff together.

“Ready” He said in a sing-song voice. I nodded.

I looked up and he was making the face at me. I rolled my eyes cos he knew exactly what he was doing. As we walked to the escalade hand in hand he kept making the face at me.

“What” he said already picking up my facial expressions.

“I hate when you make that face at me” I said in low breath.

“What face” He says facetiously as we get to the car with a shit eating grin.

“I know what you’re trying to do” He lets out an airy laugh as he opens the door for me. We both get in.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he laughs at me as he feigns innocence.

“The horny face Colson!” I accuse him.

“What me?” he says almost as if he is appalled.

“You know I can’t say no to you” I whine and immediately give up.

“I’m not even offering anything” he looks at me so sexily again and licks his lips.

“Stop it” I smacked his arm.

“That’s just how my face is,” He tells the driver to go to the house with his studio.

“What about my massage?” I pout.

“I have something better in mind” He winks.

He pulls up the partition.

“Why did you pull the partition-”

Kells attacks my mouth and pulls away.

“I want to eat you out, think of it as my apology for making you work so hard and also not giving you the massage that you deserve baby”

“Let me make you feel good” he licked his lips as he got down to the floor and spread my legs.

“No panties” He smirked at me.

“I’m all about easy access” I smiled at him.

“I’ve been wanting to taste you since this morning,” he says with a thick voice.

He kissed my thighs. He gave me that look again, I swear, his powder blue eyes made me forget where I was.

Sometimes his stare intimidated me during these moments because I wanted to be sexy for him and not let him down, it was almost as if he knew this, I didn’t know how he did it but with one look, he gave me friendship, safety, and reassurance. With one of his looks, I knew he could eventually hurt me. It was only inevitable.

I felt raw and vulnerable. I saw him for who he was. He was going to eat me alive. When he looked in my eyes, he almost made me forget that he didn’t love me. When he looked at me, I felt pieces of myself attach to him. I felt so connected to him. I never wanted to leave. I know eventually, he’ll stop looking at me that way. When he does it, he will take parts of me that I will never get back.

I wish he would never leave me, I wish he was more in love with me than I was in love with him. Maybe I should just enjoy him for what he is before he comes to his senses. I can’t make him love me, but I sure as hell was gonna try.

                                   ***********

Kells was in another recording booth since he wanted his new song to be a surprise. So I went outside by the pool to smoke by myself in the cool LA air. The more smoke I inhaled the more I began to trip. I mean these thoughts of doubting myself were always there but so much louder when I was alone.

All of the shiny things Kells said and did for me didn’t make me up for the fact that he wasn’t in love with. He disguised fucking as love. He hid behind the fact that he loved sex with me, that he loved me in a way a brother or friend would.

My inner mantra screamed at me all day that he didn’t love me, yet I spread my legs for him every chance I got. It felt great but I hated myself so much after. No bullshit, was he doing this just for me? Was I pity fuck? A placeholder until he found someone else better. Or at least until he gets bored? I can't fuck him into loving me.

Why was I giving my all to someone who didn’t even want me like that? I am waiting for him to pull the plug. After this there’s not much I can do, all I can do right now is love him, wait and pray. And if it doesn't end the way I want it to, I’ll still be his friend and I’ll stop trying. I can’t stop loving him though.

I don’t want to stop fighting for him, he was worth it. I mean if it was any indication we were so good together, well when it came to sex. I will have to face the truth eventually. I hate being alone cos I can’t block the nagging bitch in my head telling me I was his last choice, that he is settling for me.

I feel like I will never be enough for someone like him. The judgment day will come and it will break me cos good things never happen to people like me. Eventually, I will succumb to every dark thought I’ve ever had about us. With him I still felt alive, but when he tells me how he truly feels, I know deep down I won’t have anything left to live for if he no longer wants me.

It’s hard to love someone like me. I can’t even love me. I love a man who is emotionally unavailable. Well only emotionally unavailable when it comes to me.

I won’t be able to love him for the both of us.

[vaultgirl2077]

Dear John.

The pair made their way out into the bustle of the club, sitting themselves down at a sofa a little away from the bar and VIP room.

The club was almost full tonight, Charlie seemed rushed off his feet and Magnolia was basking in the eyes of the patons fixated on her.

Maya had excused herself to the bathroom while the buzz wore off. As if waking from a dream, she was feeling more alert and painfully embarrassed at all she had revealed. She’d told him things she hadn’t told anyone, some she was even scared to admit to herself.

She must have been gone a while...

When she returned, the crowd rose to the floor, a signal that Mags had finished her break, ready to enchant the audience with her spell once more.

Maya sat back down, arms across her chest and noticeably colder since her departure. In an attempt to seem normal, she poked her tongue out at the ghoul opposite her.

Hancock didn’t buy it but he didn’t want to push the boundaries. He stuck to what he knew best.

“So, you got a ride of choice? I’m usually a Mentats Ghoul myself. Makes me feel intellectual.” He pulled a container out of his coat pocket and offered it to Maya, she took two of the small tablets and knocked them back with her drink.

“Heh. Not shy are ya? Two a day keeps reality at bay.”

“I don’t tend to ‘ride’ much for fun these days. Don’t know what half the shit is anymore,” She said as she dragged her fingers through her hair, “I usually only use chems for dealing with enemies now. I mean I still can’t kill someone unless I’ve had a hit of Psycho. Sound’s pathetic doesn’t it?” A sardonic laugh and she broke eye contact. “I guess tonight is my first real joy ride for the last couple of hundred years. I have you to thank for that.”

“My pleasure, sister. You can always come to me whenever you need a little chem break.” He winked and began searching his coat. When he found what he was looking for, he locked her gaze once more. That inviting smile formed into a hard line for the briefest of moments. “And to answer your question, no, it ain’t pathetic to need an extra push to kill. It means you aren’t the same as the scum you gotta take care of.” A pause. “Gotta ask though, what happens when the psycho runs out?”

“I don’t let it run out.” She answered simply. But she knew what he meant. She’d face that bridge when she came to it.

Hancock chuckled with a shake of his head. “Fair enough. Good answer.”

Without a word of warning, he slipped off the sofa and knelt down in front of her, presenting her with a syringe that had two vials of orange liquid attached to it. Maya eagerly edged closer to him, leaning forward out of curiosity.

“Since this is your first real ride in Goodneighbor, let’s make it one to remember. Those Mentats started to kick in yet?”

Maya nodded, her pupils had started to dilate and she felt a spike in her intellect. Everything was suddenly so defined, the heightened perception made her aware of the intricate details in her surroundings.

”Good. Now this little gem is called Daddy-O. You take this whole thing and we ain’t gonna be on the same planet. But...You take a small hit of it with those Mentats and you’re gonna have one hell of a night." The needle caught the light. "You trust me, doll?”

Maya nodded once more.

Because she did... So much did she trust this man who she barely knew.

Her heart began to race, she was hungry for it.

Hancock flicked the tip of the needle as she slouched back into her seat. Delicately, he snuck his rugged hand under her leg and lifted. Goosebumps erupted on her skin at the caress, butterflies forming in the pit of her stomach with the anticipation.

He stroked his thumb on the inside of her thigh and stretched the skin. Maya let out a sharp gasp as the needle penetrated, the rush was instant as the foreign chem coursed through her system.

The ghoul’s hand lingered on her sensitive skin as he retracted the syringe, only a small portion was missing from the vials. He replaced the needle before injecting a larger dose into his ruined forearm.

The subtle hues of the room swiftly became more saturated. Ripples lingered in the wake of where the light had moved and the smoke seemed to solidify. Whisps dancing to the music and hugging the customers it engulfed.

Hancock guided her away from the growing crowd of the bar and back to the VIP lounge, the patrons swarming as the night grew later and privacy was becoming an issue.

They were in the doorway when Hancock took her by the hand and pulled her towards him. Maya staggered off balance and he used the opening to expertly hooked his arm around her waist, forcing their bodies to connect as he pulled her close.

Within moments they were swaying, synchronized and moving perfectly in rhythm with Magnolia’s song.

.

'You leave me breathless, weak in the knees...I'm feeling reckless, pardon me please...The fallout’s blowing through...But baby, it’s just you…🎵'

Hancock mouthed the lyrics with a smirk, tracing circles on her lower back as they danced. His obsidian gaze almost predatory as it locked on her lips and then refocused on her eyes.

It had been too long since she felt this magnetic pull, her head swimming with the undeniable attraction she felt for him. She tried to tell herself it was down to the circumstances and intoxication but it was without sincerity. A fool to try and lie to herself when she knew he reality.

'Help me, help me, rescue my heart...Save me, save me, from falling apart…🎵'

Maya draped both her arms around his ruined neck. The ghoul was so much taller than her petite frame that she hung on him. Surprised by his height when he was this close. His usual relaxed demeanour and slender body making him seem smaller from a distance.

The more her honed eyes focused on his face, the more she was fascinated by the ridged contours of his skin. Delicate fingers teased his nape, provoking an involuntary growl that rumbled in his chest.

The chemistry drove their bodies closer. Hancock's now free hand grazed her arm and found her waist, skillfully maneuvering his leg in between hers and propping her up against the wall behind them. The hand on her hip snaked up her torso and guided her arm above her head - Holding it there as a quiet moan escaped her lips.

Maya's body was entranced by his magnetism, every sensation heightened due to the cocktail of chems and alcohol.

Coherent thought had all but vanished, replaced with a throbbing primal ache that was begging the ghoul not to stop.

'Take me, take me, baby I’m sure...🎵'

Instinct did most of the guidance. With the weight of his strong but slender body pinning her to the wall, her frame conformed to him, seeking to breach any space between them.

Hancock's scarred lips were barely an inch from touching hers, both of them were breathing heavily, the anticipation unbearable as the inevitable came closer.

Even in the ecstasy of the moment, she felt strange. Aware she was being reckless, making a fool of herself.

She hadn’t let herself go like this since before Nate.

Always responsible. Always solving the problem. Always positive.

Lady Luck, right? It would all work out.

Until now...Until she woke up.

For the last decade her baby had been raised by the people who murdered his father and she didn’t know if she'd ever find a way inside their impenetrable base.

No one else ever had and they had more power than she could ever hope to weild.

This time there were no silver linings, nothing to do but to fuck it all and escape, even if it was just for one night and in the arms of some man who made her feel good.

Her previous life and her husband were gone and slowly becoming a memory. Didn’t she deserve some pleasure after the weeks of suffering, just wishing for it all to end?

For one fucking night, didn’t she deserve to feel something other than heartache?

.

'You've got the power. You've got the cure...🎵'

.

Maya tilted her head forward just enough to gently graze her lips against his before pulling away, testing his reaction as she tasted the smoke that lingered there... 

That was all the encouragement he needed to take control. Hancock captured her in a fervent embrace.

Several moments of his expert mouth exploring her own and he broke the lifeline, nudging her face to the side so he could pepper expert kisses along her jaw and neck.

Devouring her as her skin erupted in goosebumps from the contact of his breath.

“You sure about this, doll? Ain’t sure if you even know what you’re doing. Last thing I want is to take advantage.” His voice was a tender, slurred rumble in her ear before he pulled his head back to search for hesitation in her eyes.

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing, Hancock.” Maya kissed him forcefully, no reluctance this time as her lips crashed against his.

Any prior reservations thay the ghoul held dissolved, he responded ardently, drunk on the ecstasy that was her taste. His fingers wove themselves into her hair, pulling her deeper into him with increased urgency.

At the peak of the moment, just as they were about to fall entirely, a familiar voice broke the spell.

“Seriously, Boss? Three in one week? Have some class. Where’s that Silver Shroud you were –“ Fahrenheit stopped abruptly as she realised the new girl Hancock had pinned to the wall  was Maya.

“Oh, I see...When you said you didn’t want to be disturbed, I didn’t realise it was that kind of meeting.”

Hancock’s lips lingered on Maya’s as their senses returned and they caught their breath. He carefully lifted his body away from her to glare daggers at his bodyguard.

Fahrenheit couldn’t prevent herself from smirking as she tried to stay serious.

“Boss, we need to talk.” Once more she glanced at Maya. “In private...It’s urgent.”

Hancock didn’t question it. Then Fahrenheit addressed Maya.

“Shroud, your friend from earlier is upstairs with Ham. Didn’t seem to understand that you two didn’t want to be disturbed. Idiot tried three times to get in, each time with a different costume and accent. Someone should tell him that those glasses are a dead giveaway.”

Maya laughed as she adjusted her dress and patted down her hair.

Typical Deacon.

Hancock told Fahrenheit that he’d be with her in a minute and to let the Railroad agent inside. Once the redhead departed, the two turned to face each other with reality restored.

“You sure know how to show a ghoul a good time.” He lifted her chin and kissed her softly. “I won’t be long if you want to take this fun meeting upstairs where we won’t be disturbed? Best Christmas present I’ve had in a long time.” The ghoul teased as he pulled away with a wink and smirk, following Fahrenheit to the bar.

Christmas present?

With a frown, Maya looked to her Pip-Boy as Deacon’s silhouette in a blond mop of a wig approached her.

Her heart sank

“00:24, 12/25/2287”

Her first Christmas without Nate and she was here doing whatever the hell this was with a man she’d just met?

It had only been two months without him...

With a the guilt swelling in her chest and choking her, Maya glanced over to the ghoul before darting for the stairs.

Never had she fled a place so quickly in her life.

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

/1/ /2/ /3/ /4/ /5/ /6/ /7/ /8/ /9/ /10/ /11/ /12/ /13/ /14/

A/N: I’m soft af y’all. Who has brownies?

Chapter 15.

“Oh, my god.” The sleepy acknowledgement murmurs from my lips before I stretch my head back with a breathy laugh. “Are you serious?”

It takes a minute for my surroundings to come into focus in my consciousness. The early morning sunlight casts the faintest glow in the otherwise dim bedroom. The feel of cool, soft sheets beneath me reminds me I'm still half asleep.

But that doesn't last long as I recognize the feeling of Noble’s hand stroking my morning arousal and I'm easily stirred awake.

I feel the heat of his mouth there and helplessly, my hips tilt into him. A gravelly moan thuds in my chest at the sensation. With my eyes still closed, I appreciate him there, my muscles completely slack and I fixate on nothing but the rush of dreamy warmth that swells in my core. My god.

He drags his tongue along my shaft as he barely pulls away to tell me, “I'm very serious. But I can stop if you've got places to go.”

A lazy smile stretches on my face and I reach down to rake fingers through his hair. “Don't.” I laugh softly. “Don't stop.”

“You slept naked so this is what happens,” he reasons. “Don't blame me.” Then he dips down on my cock again, a slick path to the back of his throat that prompts another noisy groan from me.

I arch back on the pillow, managing a hard swallow as I grasp his hair and mess it up even more than I know it is.

We both take our time, him with perfect slow strokes while I do my best to temper the rush of a building climax. I push away in my mind the reality that he leaves today. I only want to be aware of what we have in this exact moment.

I let my mind cloud. Desire and throbbing pleasure and things I typically never let settle there for long -- especially first thing in the morning -- take over.

I reach down, my hand coasts up the back of his neck, down between flexed shoulder blades, anywhere I can touch him. And his touch seems to have a similar pursuit, the stroke of his fist, his sneaky fingers that I'll never deny are my biggest fucking weakness now.

I hold out for as long as I can, but he's found a rhythm that makes my head spin and I let myself unravel into that gratifying payoff.

He renders me powerless. I don't even think I can move for a minute as I manage a deep breath that fills my chest. “Well good morning.”

Backing away, Noble sits up on his knees before he tips forward over top of me. There he catches himself on his hands with a chipper, impromptu push-up and drops a kiss on my shoulder. “Morning handsome.”

“You ruin me, you know that.”

One of his eyebrows flicks, intrigued. “Good. That's the plan.”

“No.” I groan the word and pull him down on top of me. “You can't just do that and leave town.”

He inhales deep into the side of my neck and lets out a little whimper of his own. “It won't be long before I'm flying your ass down to Miami. Don't be surprised.”

“I'll bring my Ray-Bans and not a lot else.”

He props himself up and peers down at me. “No, just your ass can come. I don't want like, your face and your personality and stuff--”

I knee him in the ribs before he can finish and he collapses against me, cracking up. “Get out of here, then,” I chuckle. “I'm all done with you.”

His laughter dwindles down to a weary moan before he leans in to bite my shoulder, then presses a few kisses across my chest. Pressing his forehead there for a quiet pause, he seems to concentrate on the thud of my heartbeat.

It feels heavier. There’s a sinking feeling in my gut whenever one of us is about to make that unavoidable departure. And this time, that familiar weight comes with jumpy nerves because what we are has been solidified -- with labels and acknowledgment of feelings.

On the one hand, being with him is so easy. It’s a connection and an attraction that I never tried for, it’s just there. In the past, when I’ve dated, there was a back-and-forth and then this sort of expectation of more that I just went with. Meanwhile, I was constantly in my head, never really feeling anything. I just figured it was a process and I was serving the role of a guy dating a girl, and assumed I was doing it right.

With other people, I’ve always had to tell myself to take the next step, but with Noble, it’s like I had to hold myself back from more with him since the beginning. And now that we’ve indulged it, I want to just be with him without thinking about a damn thing.

But on the other hand, I know that what’s ahead of us is entirely more complicated. I tell myself it doesn’t have to be. He makes me happy. We’re good for each other. But the reality is there’s so many more layers to it, obstacles that are bound to trip us up once we step outside the hidden little world we choose to exist in.

Noble manages a deep inhale as we shift to separate and he sits up. “Are you hungry?”

I shrug, reaching up to idly scratch fingers through my hair. “I could have coffee.”

He nods, glancing away. We’re both feeling a little too uneasy, dreading the undeniable, to eat much. “How would you feel about going out? There’s an espresso bar a few blocks west.”

“Yeah, that works.”

It’s sort of a no-brainer agreement that later starts to stir up questions in my head as I finish getting ready. Going out to breakfast with Noble seems more indicative of some kind of romantic relationship than the sushi dinner we had together last month. I don’t know why. Something about the morning. Daylight and honesty without the armor of alcohol and tricky city neon and other distractions that night affords us.

Out in the living room, we gather up jackets and shoes. I’m in jeans and a deep green sweater while Noble dressed in jeans and an untucked button-down shirt is some pretty good competition against the way he looks out of clothes.

“What time's your flight?” I wonder as we make our way down in the quiet elevator.

He glances at his own watch then peers up as the floor numbers descend, a hard swallow clenching his throat.

Fuck me, this sucks.

“At twelve.”

Reaching out, I scratch my fingers across his upper back and give him a reassuring squeeze there.

Softly, he sniffs a laugh and looks over at me. “I'm kinda bummed, Jay.”

“I know. Me too.”

Then he huffs a loud exhale as if he's attempting to shake off the mood. He clears his throat. “Alright, sorry. I won't be like that.”

I slant a half smile as we exit the elevator and head through the lobby. “Let's get you some coffee.”

“So are you going to your dad's for dinner later?”

My head bobs with a slight nod and I slip my hands in my pockets. “Yep.”

“No church though?”

Exhaling a scoff, I have to smile. “No. Not today.”

“Sinner.” He whispers the scolding tease, then bumps his elbow against mine.

I laugh to myself as I glance down at the sidewalk. “Nah. I don't feel like one. Which is good. Usually compulsive guilt is my downfall.”

“Maybe I'm a bad influence.”

“The only thing I feel guilty about is lying to my family.”

Noble inhales deeply as if to ponder it. He hasn't pressed me about when I planned on informing anyone I know about us. “Yeah? Would telling them the truth alleviate any of that?”

I blow a hard breath through puffed cheeks and consider it. God, the idea of confessing any of this at home makes my stomach drop. “How much of the truth?” I question.

He chuckles, that charming smile pulling at his cheeks. “There's a lot to unpack, huh? It's like, oh, and another thing…”

“Right.” I laugh. “Where do I start?”

“Do they like tiramisu? I can make it and send you with some and then any negative thoughts they might have would be crushed.”

“Okay, we could start with that.”

“Or get them really drunk and just kind of slide the news in there before you head home.”

“That's the thing.” I reach up to scratch the back of my head as we wait to cross the street. “I don't want it to be some big announcement. I'd rather just let them know as it comes. One on one, you know?”

“Well maybe just start with one person. Whoever might feel like the easiest to tell.”

I nod as we move forward up the block.

“Only if you want to,” he adds. “I'll be your shameful little secret for as long as you want. You know that. It's kinda hot anyway.”

I can’t help tip my head back, a heavy laugh in my chest. “You think I feel that way?”

“No,” he smiles as we approach the coffee shop. “But I mean, you know. It's not as simple as introducing some girl you met at the gym or whatever.”

“I've never been that simple anyway.” I shrug as Noble grasps the door handle there and pulls it open for us before I decide, “So they'll find a way to understand.”

***

By the time we return to the penthouse, Noble only has a little time to finish up his packing and get ready to go. I try to numb myself, to put on my blinders and accept the goodbye. I retrieve my backpack and drop it near the kitchen as I come closer to him.

“Come here, you.” I reach a hand along the back of his head and tip my mouth up to his. The kiss is brief, cut off before any of his heat can lure me in for more. “I'm gonna get out of here,” I murmur.

“Please go.” But he sneaks in one more kiss, strong hands gripping my sides. “Before I get sappy on you and say some shit I can't take back.”

I can feel his breath on my lips and mine flick with a smile at the reminder of him. The faint taste of espresso, the mint he had after, and the otherwise familiar, calming scent of him lingers there. Gently, I squeeze his hair between my fingers and run the tip of my nose across his cheek. “Sappy.” I echo the word back to him with a soft laugh. “Well now I want to know. I might like it.”

“Ugh.” All he can manage is a weary groan and he brushes another kiss along my bottom lip.

Tilting my chin up, I peer down at him. “Shit you can’t take back like I love you?” I let the words out but then holy fuck, a scorching ache pierces my chest when I do. “Like that kinda shit?”

“Dammit,” he mutters, tipping his head down to exhale his amusement toward the ground before he glances back up. “Yeah dude, I love you. And I tried really hard not to say it--”

“Don’t do that.”

“Okay.” He whispers his easy agreement.

“I love you too,” I tell him. Glancing up, I drag my fingers across his hair, taming some of the unruly waves that I find fucking adorable. “And I’d never take that back, alright?”

He nods and I see the way his jaw clenches with a hard swallow. And before the sentiment settles inside either one of us too long, just when I feel that sting in back of my throat, I manage a step back.

“You gotta get back,” I remind him.

“Go.”

I lean down and grasp my backpack and sling it onto my shoulder. Offering him the lazy drop of my hand, I let it land into his open palm in a hard clap and then I tug away. I meet his gaze once more, reassuring with a heated spark that’s always there, part infatuation, part promise, before I turn for the door and make my way out.

[ravenslynch]

Boys Latin

So I wanted to add Boys Latin by Panda Bear to Ronan Lynch’s Mixtape but it seemed maybe like it would be more the kind of song that would remind Ronan of Adam or that Adam would somehow share with Ronan and it’d become theirs? Idek, whatever happened, I ended up writing this fluffy 1.5k explanation fic for this v specific headcanon - enjoy.

Adam first hears the song when his stoned hipster roommate, who’s name is Jack but who everyone calls Jeg for some reason, stumbles in late at night and says “Things are about to be realised. Let’s connect.”

Adam is all aches after a long day of hard work and hard study, always finding that the height of the desks compared to the chairs in the library leaves him cramped. He tries to do the mental arithmetic to work out how much of a dent Jeg is about to put in his oncoming battle between sleep and his existence this week. But thinking sort of aches too, so he gives up and resigns himself to it, knowing that losing this minor battle won’t lose him the war.

The statement itself is not an unusual one from Jeg in its vague pretentiousness or the oddly prophetic weight he gives the words or the fine line Jeg often toes between friendly sincerity and self-important irony.

Though he is sort of right this time.

He pulls out his MacBook from under his pillow, fumbling with it, making Adam’s stomach twist with his clumsy carelessness. Of course he has a MacBook, Adam thought when he first saw it. It’s covered with aesthetic decals and skate stickers that never fail to remind him with a twang of Noah - or who Noah had been, or who he should have been able to be - but at least he’s generous with it when Adam’s temperamental secondhand laptop starts acting up.

Jeg stumbles blearily onto Adam’s bed and into Adam’s space, curling up beside him, the comfort gremlin that he is, and probably causing Adam’s sheets to reek of weed again. Jeg is liberal with touch and seems to feel that all space is communal space. Although, while he does talk a lot of shit, he can actually be quite sweet and occasionally does come out with some interesting tidbits about anything from the tenets of Anarcho-communism, to the failures of Dogme 95, or the surprising nutritional and environmental impact of rice production and how rife it is with arsenic. He also shares memes with Adam constantly, which are something he’s only had scant contact with outside of Murder Squash hell up until this point, and which Adam is slowly getting the hang of. And its nice to have a friend around, even if Adam doubts he’ll ever feel anywhere near as close to him as Gansey or Blue or Noah or Henry. Certainly not Ronan.

The first time Ronan smelt green on Adam’s sheets he quirked an eyebrow at him and said “Why Parrish, I didn’t realise how many plants you got down and dirty with these days without Cabeswater taking you for a joyride.”

Adam, hazy around the edges with sleep, and latent stress, and the proximity of his boyfriend with that unreasonably sexy smirk on his face, his very sprawl across Adam’s bed a distracting taunt, said “It’s not me, Jeg’s been rubbing himself all over them.”

Which, yeah, admittedly wasn’t the best way to go into that explanation.

Ronan had tensed, Adam had backtracked, soothed, clarified.

“So he just gets into your bed, just like that.” “Ronan, he’s just a goddamn golden retriever with a philosophical streak. He’s like a tactile, blazed beagle who likes to howl right in my ear. Thankfully not always the right one, he hasn’t quite worked it out yet and I’m not gonna help him.”

Adam may have deliberately smudged his accent a bit, may have ghosted his fingers along Ronan’s arm and tangled them with his own, in order to defuse the situation. It may have worked.

Alhough Adam still sighs at the inevitable look he’s going to receive when Ronan catches Jeg’s signature sheet-stink again.

“That sigh is an overture, man, this is the real shit, the good shit, get ready for it to hit us into orbit.” Jeg tells him sagely.

Adam isn’t sure what that means until it starts.

Jeg has YouTube open, and while the name Panda Bear rings approximately zero bells for Adam, the song’s title Boys Latin piques his interest. And as Jeg makes the video full screen and hits play, that starts to hit home for him too. It’s not a forest, but he can’t help but think of Cabeswater. Of Cabeswater pulling at him, changing him, as the guy on the screen is altered by his surroundings, his skin merging with the ecosystem. As he finds another guy who’s tied to this space too; who tangles with him. As they pull a child out who’s been hidden away, trapped there, and walk off into the sunset together, hand in hand.

And the song. The song itself is oddly haunting. Repetitive and electronic, its somehow nothing like Ronan’s music but seeped in it all the same. A smoothed-out, softer, dreamier iteration. The chanting feels like scrying, putting Adam in a trance, words half registering and then growing in impact as they’re sung again and again and again.

Beasts don't have a sec' to think, but We don't 'preciate our things, but Dark cloud descended again Has a dark cloud descended again? And a shadow moves in

There’s something so familiar in them. Nostalgic and dreadful and lovely and aching and impalpable and supernatural and significant.

When it finishes, Jeg closes over the laptop. Catching the look on Adam’s face, whatever that look may be, he nods with altogether too much gravitas and says “The. Real. Shit. We’re reborn together, man. Fucking Panda Bear. Goddamn. I feel raked over, like I just listened to Feels for the first time, you know? Goddamn.”

Adam doesn’t know. What Jeg means specifically or what is going on in general. But it’s something. Something is solidifying right at the heart of Adam Parrish to the sound of the song that’s still whirling around Adam’s head.

“He’s a goddamn king, I’m telling you, man.  God but you should listen to his earlier stuff too, like Mr Noah. ‘Cause that’s his real name. Noah. And Animal Collective. Strawberry Jam is my jam, dude-“

But Adam’s still stuck on Noah. His name is Noah. He has a song called Boys Latin. It sounds like some deep iteration of a closed off piece of Adam’s unknowable psyche. And the video, to Adam, reeks of Cabeswater and Ronan and Opal.

It sticks with him for days. For a couple of weeks. How uncannily it all aligns into the perfect constellation.

It’s when Ronan drops by in his BMW and takes him out for a meandering drive through the nearest fields he can find that Adam asks “Do you mind if I put on a song?”

Ronan, looking curious at this, nods.

And then the song fills the car, as loud as the sound system is nearly permanently set to, winding its way around them both and leaking out their rolled down windows.

Adam can’t help but watch Ronan to see if it makes impact. Biting his lip for a second when it does.

(And Ronan can’t help but watch this Adam, swaying slightly to the beat, hair blowing just so in the wind like the music is caressing him on its way out into the world. He can’t help but take a moment to absorb and catalogue this incarnation of Adam Parrish, looking unguarded and so very at home in his skin.)

They both sit hypnotised for a moment. Then Ronan asks “What is this?” “Boys Latin. By Panda Bear. Did you know his name’s actually Noah?” He asks, even though both of them were unaware that there was an artist to know this about until the song came along.

Ronan hums at that. Then he’s pulling in at the side of the road. Then he’s tugging at Adam, arranging them forehead to forehead, staring at Adam’s hands in his.

“I appreciate you.” Ronan says, quietly, Adam just managing to catch the words.

He squeezes Ronan’s hands, and says “I know.” He let’s his nose nudge against Ronan’s and breathes out “I appreciate you too. I really do.”

“This song…” Ronan trails off, and it’s Adam’s turn to hum. “It sounds…” “Yeah.” Adam says. “It does.”

Ronan looks up then, eyes startlingly clear, and Adam feels too much, feels it spilling out of him as the melody loops and loops. He surges forward as Ronan does too. He tastes salt and flesh and need on his tongue, and he can’t help but nip at Ronan’s lips. Can’t help but push deeper. Can’t help but clasp Ronan’s face between his hands, as Ronan groans softly. Can’t help but feel dizzily centred and understood and so much more than he ever thought he could be.

When he pulls back, long after the song had lapsed into silence, he doesn’t let go. “I knew you’d get it too.” Ronan raises one hand up to feel along Adam’s knuckles, still pressed against his cheek. “It sounds like you.” “It sounds like us.” Adam replies.

Ronan presses his lips against Adam’s once more, for a few delicate seconds, that seem to loop and loop once more, before he pulls back.

They slowly make their way back to campus, hands clasped together over the gear stick, and Adam still aches but he aches better.

[inappropriate-drill-usage]

"I got you, it's gonna be okay, you're going to be okay." |@classical-crowbar|

There’s a starter underneath the cut. It’s extremely long and I don’t want to spam people’s dashes. 

Also a fair amount of violence, but it’s not really any more graphic than other torture scenes. 

Monday, August 5, 1946

(Probably)

The darkness interefered with Bea’s percepton of the passage of time. There was something primal about it. Human were meant to live and work between sunrise and sunset, not sit perfectly still and unable to move, all while surrounded by thick, suffocating blackness. It was a fairly new thing, this lack of light. After all, the RED Pyro had put her torture chamber in the attic of her base. It was a large and airy space, with dormer windows on both sides. Sunlight and moonlight got in. The view was so good that Bea had been able to watch the stars rotate across the night sky. This natural clock had measured out three days, and then, sometime in the morning, the RED Pyro beat Bea so badly that her remaining eye swelled shut. After that, there was no time at all.

***

At some indistinct point in the fairly recent past, the BLUs were enjoying a long weekend. The RED spy was badly injured and likely to be absent from battle for at least a week or so. Such unfortunate events had given the BLUs the motivation they needed to capture the last control point on a Thursday afternoon.

That night had brought a celebration with guitar music, barbecue, and alcohol. By the wee hours of Friday morning, most everyone had wound down for the night, but Bea found herself in the bathtub. She had no need to be up before noon that day, so why not enjoy same bath salts Rory had given her and finish this week’s issue of The Economist?

By 2 am, the water had gotten cold, so Bea dried off, pulled on her nightgown, and started to drain the tub. There were footsteps outside; one of the men staggering to the WC in half-asleep stupor. Bea preoccupied herself with her reflection in the spotted metal mirror, trying to hold her head at such and angle that her scar wasn’t visible.

Then the door opened, quickly, but not so forcefully that it banged against the wall. Bea barely had time to catch a glimpse of a figure in a respirator before a pair of hands stuffed a gag in her mouth. A pin rattled, and then the rotten-fruit scent of a hallucination grenade was strong enough to make her eyes water. In this confined space, it took about thirty seconds before the world melted into kaleidoscopic swirls.

When everything re-solidified, Bea was the in RED attic and the sun was rising. Her vision was still a bit shaky, but Bea knew the feeling of the interrogation chair and restraints. She focused her eyes, and sure enough, there was the RED Pyro. Beach pajamas* with trousers, hair perfectly shingled, dark eyeliner. She was touching up the elaborate henna patterns on her left hand.

Bea wanted nothing more than to snarl Annalise,with her voice full of scorn, but she was still so drugged that all that came out was some gurgles and drool. It was enough to get Annalise’s attention, because she put down her brushes, stood up, and slapped Bea’s face with such force that the vertebrae in her neck popped.

“Cunt.” Annalise’s British accent made it sound almost sweet.

There was no interrogation to go with the torture. No answers were needed and nobody had any questions to ask, anyway. Annalise smashed in both of Bea’s kneecaps with a dumbbell, then tore off her fingernails with a pliers. She sliced the insides of Bea’s exposed forearms with a razor blade, put on a pair off rubber gloves, and smeared liquid drain cleaner into the wounds. And she hit Bea in the face. With her hands and the butt of a polo bat and a dainty little riding crop that looked too delicate to leave such welts.

Bea screamed lustily through the first part of it all. At the very least, why not blow out Annalise’s eardrums? And who cared if everybody heard? The REDs doubtless knew what was going on. But a person could only scream so much before getting so hoarse and thirsty that it just wasn’t worth it.

“You hungry?” By the pale light of Sunday morning, Annalise held out a bowl. The contents looked like tar in this light, but the scent made Bea think of wet cat food.

“Come on. I can hear your stomach growling.” Annalise scooped out some of the mixture on two fingers. “Come on poppet. You know you want it.”

At the word poppet, Bea’s stomach boiled. She hated the word. Rory had told her that it was indeed a legitimate British term of affection, but life had mutated into something else. Something condescending and frilly, like a bow on an underage whore.

Bea gathered her last bit of saliva to spit, but Annalisa grabbed her by the hair and smeared the tarlike stuff in her face. It was indeed cat food, the sort of meat that the government said was unfit to feed to humans. It made her lips and face injuries burn; Annalise had added some kind of hot pepper, maybe? And it was disturbingly gritty. What wasn’t cat food or pepper was made up of salt. Even before Annalise let go of her hair, Bea had figured that she wasn’t going it be getting water anytime soon.

Things went somewhat blurry after that. Annalise kicked Bea’s broken kneecaps until she blacked out from the pain. She poured salt in her mouth and ground it into the wounds on her arms. Beat her with a crowbar until Bea could have sworn a rib cracked. Punched her in the throat until there was blood in Bea’s mouth.

Bea’s denailed hands were swollen stiff from dehydration by now. Her tongue was even more swollen, gone coarse against her dry mouth. She couldn’t have made a sound it she tried. Her forearms were swollen and blistered, and every breath hurt, both in her ribs and her throat.

It went on and on. Annalise did something. Then she stopped. Maybe she was leaving for meals? Or to go fuck the Spy? No, the Spy was injured and not up for such things. Time was only punctuated by the changing light outside.  

Then one day –probably day three– Annalise got over-excited with the polo bat and Bea’s eye swelled shut. After that, Bea hovered – existed, really—in her own private darkness. The whole world had shrunk down to her body, a lump of swollen, stinking meat. Passive. Lumps didn’t do anything. Things just happened to them.

It was been a while since Annalise had done anything, Bea thought. Maybe it was night. Or maybe she had just she had gone to the grocery store, or to the beauty salon. Get some shiny red nails to go with those pretty henna patterns. Who knew?

Then the door opened. Heavy footsteps to go with Annalise’s dainty ones.

“By our Lady.” A Spanish accent. The RED Solider. “Are you certain she’s alive?”

“Oh, she’s alive.” Cool fingers traced the skin on Bea’s neck. “Look carefully now. See this? I haven’t hit anything vital.”

Something clicked. Metallic and sharp, and the restraints came off Bea’s destroyed arms. Some part of Bea was still alive enough to consider running, but she’d probably stagger two steps and then run into a wall. So she let the Solider pick her up. Bea had figured he’d toss her over his shoulder, but no, he just cradled her in his arms.

“Just dump her by mile marker 35,” said Annalise. “Not outside it. You hear me? Not outside it. I don’t want her on my case.”

Mile marker 35 was right on the edge of the respawn’s range, where the signal was so feeble and faint that it might take several days for a merc to fully re-generate. Wasn’t that perfect? As long as the RED Spy was down, Bea would be down, too. Even things out. Make the balance between the teams fair again.

Bea felt herself be carried down the stairs, then loaded into a car. The Solider must have known she couldn’t sit up, because he just laid her on the floor, where the car mats dug into her skin. The car bounced off rocks, and it’s the vibrations from its engine rattled Bea’s teeth in her head.

The car stopped. The Soldier picked her up in is arms again, set in down in the sand. Bea have expected him to say something to her. Maybe an apology, or an insult, or a kick in the face. But there was nothing. The Soldier’s footsteps retreated, and the car’s engine restarted, only to fade into nothing.

It was day. Bea was nearly certain of it; she could feel her skin burning in the sun. More blank, black time passed. She made no attempt to move. Why bother? She’d get nowhere, and the sooner she died, the sooner she’d respawn. She’d wake up under those bright lights, especially nauseous from being dead for so long, but it would certainly feel better than this.

The team would have been so relieved when she re-materialized. Rory and Roy were certainly going to cry. Maybe the relief would keep them from asking too many questions. Everybody though the RED Spy and his bitch were crazy anyway. Maybe they’d satisfy themselves with hugging Bea and cursing the REDs.  

Let the team be satisfied with that. No questions. Please.

And then, suddenly:

“I found her!”

She could have sworn it was Rory.

“I got you, it’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.”

Bea’s mind went totally blank with astonishment. It was actually Rory; she’d know his voice anywhere. Hands went all over her face and throat, checking to see if she was breathing.

Goddamn it. Rory was sure to be crying, and some part of her was grateful she wasn’t able to see.