#there's like. so much more i could say but i am Bad with words and yeah. yeah

[ddarker-dreams]

It's ovulation week I am begging you to give us more blade crumbs

I'M A BIT LATE BUT !!!!!!!!!! better late than never, ig ??? anyway... here's some not sfw jealous blade. warning for mentions of alcohol and it's implied reader let a dude flirt with her just to fuck around and find out .

(definitely not a bad idea or anything when your bf is an immortal killing machine haha... aha...)

despite your affection for your morose lover, you’ve harbored a secret regarding his eyes. 

those wickedly beautiful vats of crimson can occasionally be too much to bear. staring back at them, you’re reminded of the carnage he’s inflicted. that for some, this was their final sight before they bled out a similar shade. to have those same eyes weighing you down inspired apprehension. not from the belief he’d harm you — simply that he could. 

his gloved hands are cool against your feverish skin. they grope at your bare thighs, desperate and unforgiving. you’ve made his lap your throne. your panties are embarrassingly soaked against his clothed bulge, which you’re made to grind against by his inescapable grip. the friction is exhilarating, depriving your lungs of air and his mind of any coherent thought. he’s acting on base, animalistic instinct, his composure shattered beyond repair. yours isn’t any better. the night is young and he’s made an unapologetic mess of you.

faintly, you wonder if you should apologize. next comes determining what there even is to say. 

i’m sorry i’m so hungry for attention.

i’m sorry that i laughed at his jokes.

i’m sory that i leaned in too close.

“come back to me,” blade demands. his dominant hand finds your jaw, tilting it up, forcing you to stare at your reckoning. “think of no one else.” 

the meaning behind his words doesn’t immediately register. through the haze clouding your senses, a semblance of understanding pierces through. having your body isn’t enough. he wants your mind for himself as well. your most fearsome acolyte, who’d serve as its warden and worshiper. 

his eyebrows pinch together, belying his own inner conflict.

why did you choose me? 

when will you change your mind? 

how do i get you to stay? 

your lips find his. blade’s response is instantaneous, he ravishes you, his tongue likely tasting the cocktail you sipped an hour prior. a deep, guttural growl sounds from his throat. you whimper. his sounds of gratification do something to you, altering your chemistry, making your veins hot with lust. when you part, he chases after you, only stopping once he sees how desperately you need air. 

he’s painfully hard against your cunt. a wet patch has formed from where your anatomies grind together, his precum seeping through the fabric. the constant stimulation to your clit has you breathless. you’re close — teetering on the precipice. he must be able to tell, for he maneuvers you like you weigh nothing, sparing you the physical overexertion. thighs trembling, you bury your face in his neck. his scent is a mix of anise, sweat, and blood. oddly, it makes you feel safe. 

and then he urges you back to look him in the eye. 

“did you want him to do this to you?” the question comes out like a snarl, scarcely human in its timbre. 

you shake your head. 

“would you—” he clenches his teeth, as he’s nearing his own end, “—would you have let him fuck you?”

this time, when you try shaking your head, he slows down. 

“you have a voice, girl. use it.” 

you swallow thickly. 

“i wouldn’t have,” the words stumble out. “m’ sorry.” 

the atmosphere is thick and oppressive. the low light has you squinting to better discern his countenance. as always, it gives little away. in an unexpectedly tender gesture, he brushes his lips against your forehead. he then tucks the hair sticking to your sweaty skin back. your throat feels tight. before you can try to make sense of it all, he returns to his previous ministrations. still sensitive, you gasp, throwing your head back. 

the muscles in your body tighten, threatening to snap— 

“i swear,” he murmurs against your ear, “it’s you who will be the death of me.” 

—and at that, you come undone. 

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

ok so hear me out. rafe and weird!girl get into an argument and rafe calls her weird or says something about her being normal for once and my girl gets all upset as she should.

Nonnie, are you in my walls? I’m very much having a day like this. This is heavily based on the day I had today and writing it made me feel sm better. Slight angst. Fluff. 1.8K words. NO MINORS!! (Note: weird!girl is autistic coded bc I am autistic)

You were extremely overwhelmed. It feels like every single thing is out to get you today. Before you and Rafe left to go on your first grocery shopping trip since you moved in together you got into a bit of a disagreement over the list. You are extremely picky. You have set safe foods that you like to stick to and you don’t like to stray from them. But Rafe on the other hand would eat almost anything. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that you wanted to live off of freezer waffles and chicken nuggets when he hired a professional chef for the two of you.

“Baby, why would I buy you the cheap freezer shit when I can have it made from scratch all fancy n shit?” It wasn’t about the price, you know that. It was just that Rafe wanted you to have the best of everything he could possibly give you and sometimes you just wanted the simpler things. Something that he’s still trying to understand.

“It’s just… I don’t want that. I want the ones from the store. That I always get. The ones I like.” Your lips were formed into a pout as you looked down at your lap and played with the rings on your fingers.

“Aight, Bats, if that’s what you want.” He shrugged and kissed your forehead before leaving you to finish getting ready. It was what you wanted. But you could tell it wasn’t what he wanted so you felt bad. You didn't want to be an inconvenience.

So after that you got in your head that you were too much for him. You spent the entire card ride to the grocery store thinking about how a normal girl wouldn’t want specific foods. A normal girl would be more than happy to have a personal chef make them anything and everything they wanted. A normal girl would be able to go to those fancy restaurants Rafe likes because she’d actually like anything on the menu. He tried to take you once and you spent the entire meal picking at your plate of chicken and veggies, so he never tried again settling to go places that had things you actually liked.

Then at the store you were so in your head that if you hadn’t made a list you probably wouldn’t have gotten a single thing you wanted. You couldn’t stop feeling like you were a burden to him because you needed him to buy you an entirely different grocery list from his own. You kept trying to put things back. Or tell him you didn’t need things that you did, in fact, need. You could tell Rafe was getting frustrated with you and it only made you want to shut down even more.

It didn’t help that the grocery store was easily one of your least favorite places. The lighting was awful. There were always so many people everywhere not looking where they’re going. The freezer section was always so cold that you spent that entire section of the shopping trip practically shaking. It was so goddamn loud. People talking. Kids crying. The squeaking of the old grocery cart wheels. So going there when you were already feeling overwhelmed was a recipe for disaster.

You fully lost it when you were checking out. The cart was extremely disorganized because you were too checked out to keep it in order the entire trip. The store you were at had it so you bagged your own groceries so the fact that the cart was a complete disaster made bagging them incredibly difficult. You were struggling to keep up with the cashier and also bag the groceries efficiently. He kept pushing the conveyor belt button, rolling the groceries that you haven’t bagged yet to pile up on top of each other at the end of it. The cart was full of bags and you weren’t even half done so you had to run and grab another one, only letting the pile grow further.

Rafe bought a case of beer and it the midst of you trying to frantically bag everything in a timely manner the cashier also asked you for your I.D. Which only frustrates you more. You don’t even drink beer. And it made you have to pause bagging again to dig in your purse. The cashier kept looking from the card to you and back again, like he thought it was fake.

“I know I look nothing like that, that was 7 years ago.” You didn’t mean to sound snippy, but you were pretty much at your limit.

“Baby, it’s fine, he’s just lookin’ for the date.” Rafe shot you a look and it only pissed you off more.

“Well he’s looking at it like it’s fake or some shit!” You scoffed as you slammed a full bag into the cart. Which only earned you another look from Rafe.

On the way home he hardly talked to you, instead he decided to blast trap music when you were clearly already overstimulated so you decided to put your headphones on and drown him out.

“Bats, the fuck is going on with you today, huh?” Rafe is towering over you the minute you enter the kitchen, backing you up against the counter.

“I just don’t like the grocery store. And you made me feel bad about the food. And everything was just so loud in there. And I felt like you hardly talked to me the entire time. I’ve felt like an inconvenience to you all day!” You snap at him as you stomp your foot in frustration, glaring up at him.

“All we did was go to the fuckin’ store. You’re seriously that worked up over it?” Rafe scoffs, running a hand through his hair.

“Yes! I am! The grocery store is extremely stressful for me and you’re not being considerate of that!!”

“That’s ridiculous, people go to the grocery store every day. It’s not a big deal. I don’t know why you can’t just be fuckin’ normal sometimes.” Rafe throws his hands up, letting them fall against his thighs with a smack. The minute the words leave his mouth your bottom lip starts to quiver as tears brim your eyes. And he knows he fucked up. Immediately he knows he fucked up.

“You know what? Why don’t you go find a normal girlfriend then!?” You push against his chest, running past him to your shared bedroom. You slam the door behind you, sliding down it as the tears in your eyes begin to spill down your cheeks. You knew it.

“Baby…” Rafe’s voice travels through the thick wood as he lightly taps on it. “ I’m sorry… that was- I shouldn’t have- Bats, can you open the door, please?”

“No. Go away.” You whimper as you curl further into yourself against the door.

“Baby girl, please? Just wanna talk. Lemme see you.” He turns the knob, pushing on the door lightly causing you to shift forward slightly. “C’mon, get away from the door, let me in.”

“Why don’t you go find a normal girl to talk to.” You snap at him before trying to push back against the wood but he’s so much stronger than you that it doesn’t even budge. Rafe shoves his foot into the crack of the door, pushing it until he can slip through. It slams shut behind him from your weight, causing you to yelp. He drops to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands. “Baby, look at me.”

“No.” You shake your head, subconsciously nuzzling into his touch. Your lips are quivering so bad your teeth are chattering as tears flow down your cheeks and Rafe kind of wants to kick his own ass.

“Listen I- I shouldn’t have said that, okay? I didn’t - fuck baby, I didn’t mean that shit. I was just frustrated. Doesn’t make it okay though, never wanna make my girl cry.” Rafe runs his thumbs down the apples of your cheeks, wiping away the salty tears that continue to fall. “I think I’ve gotten pretty damn good about knowing how you work. But with us living together now there's gonna be new shit that I’m gonna have to pick up on. I’m so sorry princess.”

“I just - I - just wanna be enough for you. Don’t wanna be a burden.” Your body tries to curl in on itself even more but Rafe doesn’t let it, he grips onto your hips and pulls you into his lap. He wraps his strong arms around you as he starts to rock you back and forth.

“Want you to listen to me baby, aight?” He takes your jaw in his hand, tilting your head towards his to get you to look at him. When you do it nearly cracks his heart. He hates that he made you feel like everyone else always has. “I never should’ve fucking said that shit. I didn’t mean it. Not even a little bit. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I fuckin’ love you and all your weird little shit. Your weird little shit just makes me love you more. I’ve never known anyone like you. You’ve taught me so much. I guess I’ve just still got some shit to learn. But I’m trying, Bats. I’ll never stop trying.”

“You really mean it?” You sniffle as you look up at him through your teary eyes and Rafe has never felt more bad than he does at this moment. If he saw anybody else making you cry like this they would be so fucked and here he is, doing it.

“Of course I fuckin’ mean that shit, baby girl. I’m sorry for losing my patience with you today. I never, ever, wanna hurt you. Never wanna make you feel like all these other douchebags on the island do. Kind of want to run them all over, including myself right now.” Rafe lets out a dry chuckle when he sees the corner of your lips tilt up slightly. His large hand runs down the back of your head, smoothing down your hair as he continues to rock the both of you. “You know I love you more than anything, right?”

“It’s okay, Rafey. I know I can be too much sometimes. But I do know that you love me.” And you do. Especially right now. Rafe never opens up to you like this. And you kind of want to blow him right now.

“Hey, you aren’t too much, aight? Don’t ever let anyone make you feel that way. Including me, put my ass in check baby. God knows I need it.” He smiles down at you before leaning to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Want me to put some nuggets in the air fryer for you and we can watch that movie you’ve been trying to get me to watch?”

“Mhm, that sounds perfect daddy.”

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

[wreckedandpolemic]

dancing is a dangerous game - matty healy

(mdni) in which a last-ditch attempt to garner respectability may just hold the key to your lovelorn heart after all... 10910 words.

warnings: fingering, oral (f receiving), period-typical misogyny, excessively purple prose

You snap the Society Papers shut with a huff, glowering at your mama over the top of the paper. As if it weren’t bad enough to be married off to some stranger, must the entire ton know about it? You already know what they’ll say; false compassion murmured behind fans, just loud enough for you to hear. Poor thing. Three seasons out, the family must be getting desperate. That marriage is sure to be a loveless one. Perhaps there’s something… not all there about the girl. Your fists clench, blinding anger rising in you the longer you stew over your predicament. Sold off like cattle to a man you don’t even know, your entire marriage a spectacle in which you’re an unwilling performer.

Well. You know Lord Healy, in much the same way a chamber-maid knows her mistress. You remember him well, his last season your first, every girl in your set tripping over herself to catch his eye. You remember him as handsome, certainly, but little else; not worldly or clever, not remotely interested in propriety or the role he long should have stepped into by now. Content to just lounge about, rakish, his utter lack of interest in taking a wife had only served in making the mamas more ambitious and their daughters more desperate. Then, as the season came to a close, he had announced his distaste for polite society and disappeared, ostensibly to travel the world.

His return had already been sure to cause a stir, not in the least after his mother had sent yours a letter you can only imagine to be pleading for you to take him off their hands. The news had spread fast, gossip travelling faster than wildfire among the gentry, and you can’t imagine the bedlam he’d been greeted with when he docked has made him any more amenable to the idea than you are. And yet, you can hear gravel crunching under wheels and hooves, your skirts splayed out and arranging you into a perfect, demure little picture as the shackles you’ll wear for the rest of your life stroll up the steps to your door.

“You’ve a caller, my lady,” says the maid, curtsying hastily as you wave a hand to have her beckon him in. 

Getting to your feet as he enters, your breath catches slightly in your throat. He’s more handsome than you remember, once-cropped curls now loose in a halo around his head, the silver in one ear standing out starkly against the dark backdrop. His sleeves are rolled up, and… good Lord, does he have a tattoo? As if you weren’t enough of a laughing stock to the ton, the only man willing to have you is a pierced, inked rake whose defining characteristic is flagrant disregard for the aristocracy. He holds his hand out to your mama, bowing politely. “Lady Marlowe. A pleasure to see you again.” His voice is smooth and rich, yet tinged bitter, expensive coffee poured over your senses.

You curtsy to him as he turns to face you, taking your hand in his own, calloused from hard work and smudged with ink. “My lord,” you murmur, eyes to the floor as he lifts your hand to his lips, warm where they meet your skin. Something sparks between you, flaring to life as you meet his eyes.

“Miss Marlowe. So lovely to finally make your acquaintance. I was rather… shocked, to return to England and find myself betrothed, but I suppose I ought not see a woman so beautiful as you as anything less than a blessing.” You flush, swallowing hard. Of all the reactions you might have expected from your first meeting, this certainly isn’t a turn of events you could have predicted.

You give a high, tinkling laugh, polite and artificial. “You flatter me so, my lord. I am not deserving of such–”

“You certainly are,” he interrupts, his smile disarming. Your traitorous heart longs to trust in his honeyed words, your rational brain desperately beating out the smoke before anything can catch alight. “Would you care for a turn about the garden? I find it so stifling to be cooped inside on days like this.”

With your mama following at a distance, you loop your arm through his and allow him to lead you through the garden. The last lingering raindrops clinging to the grass wick into your skirts, cold and grounding as they brush against your stockings. “My lord,” you begin, low enough that your mama won’t overhear.

“Matthew, please. I have spent three years travelling the world simply as Matthew, and I’ve taken quite a liking to it. Lord Healy sounds to me like someone rather tiresome.” The nails of your free hand bite into your palm. It’s all very well and good for him to flout every maxim of polite society, scoff and bite his thumb at whomever he likes; you don’t have that luxury.

You’d been perfectly happy to live as a spinster, well-learned in the thin line you’d have to tread for the few remaining years before the season closed its doors on you, and you resent that he has the luxury of walking out of his own volition, that open arms were waiting for his return. “That isn’t proper, my lord,” you reply, clipped and irritable.

Lord Healy’s answering smirk is exactly what you’d expect, louche and irreverent. He leans close, and you shiver. “Fuck proper.” You give a shocked little gasp. “Listen, darling. I can tell there isn’t anywhere in the world you’d like to be less than here, but I’m afraid this is our lot. The way I see it, proper’s what’s trapped us like this. Won’t you break the rules with me? It can be our little secret.”

He smiles earnestly, and you feel a sick sense of guilt even as you swoon. So charming and handsome that he could have had any woman he liked, now saddled with a girl best known for being a lost cause. And yet there’s something undeniable and sincere in his eyes, and you find yourself meeting them boldly. “Very well, Matthew. I suppose a little secrecy never hurt anyone.”

“Well, I’m glad that we settled that. I suppose if we’re to spend our lives bound together in matrimony, we ought get to know each other. Tell me about yourself, love, please.”

You smooth your skirts, the practised spiel springing easily to your lips; the laundry list of qualities that might make you a suitable wife, a successful mother. “I am accomplished on the pianoforte. I am fluent in French. I am talented at needlework.” You don’t even attempt to sound as if you care for any of it.

Matthew makes a short, disparaging noise. “That all sounds… incredibly dull. I feel as though you agree, love. I want to know what you enjoy, not what you think might please me to hear.”

A flush creeps up your chest, a traitorous stain high on your cheeks. You aren’t certain whether that question has been asked of you once in the last ten years. “I am… an amateur novelist, I suppose. I was, in youth, a skilled fencer, although I am out of practice, to say the least.” The admission feels tight as it escapes you, a confession that belongs buried in the drawers of your writing-desk under piles of correspondence and spilled ink.

Matthew smiles, boyish and almost fond. “A fencer. You must remind me to cower behind you, should we ever encounter bandits.”

Scowling, you slip your arm out of his and fold it across your chest. “If you were going to tease, I don’t know why you would ask.” That butterfly of hope you had foolishly allowed to flicker in your chest is snuffed out, and you curse yourself for even letting it take root in the first place.

A warm, concerned hand rests against your arm. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to be hurtful.” He draws a deep breath, tipping his head back and exhaling slowly before he speaks. “I know this isn’t remotely how either of us pictured spending this time. But, truly, I am trying to make the best of a bad situation. I’d like to make this as painless as possible for the two of us, so I implore you to humour me, just for a little while. And I promise, if the thought of being my wife still reviles you by the time we’re wed, you’ll live out your days wanting for nothing with as much freedom the constraints of society allow you.”

His words are sweet, flowery, surely born from the ink staining his hands. On the surface, it sounds a charmed life, an ideal outcome; to you it’s nothing more than empty words, the bitter taste of arsenic disguised in sweet almond marzipan. You’ve long accepted living without love, made your peace with the pitying looks of the ton, and yet he presents you with further ways you might be humiliated, arranges them on a silver platter like you wouldn’t notice the rotting centre.

You aren’t an imbecile. You understand what such a marriage would mean for your already-tattered reputation. You can practically hear the murmurs, read the gossip rags, feel the prying stares. Can you believe it? The new Lady Healy couldn’t keep her husband’s interest for even a month. I can’t say I’m surprised. Always an odd one, wasn’t she, like a repellent of the opposite sex. Certainly, you’d be free, with your husband in any bed but your own, but free only to wither and rot in the darkness of his country home with only a swaddled heir for company.

It’s been too long since you’ve spoken, Matthew expectant at your elbow. “I don’t believe I have much of a choice, my lord,” you murmur faintly, and his face falls.

Your conversation is stilted, polite but stiff as you make your way back to the house. At the door, Matthew bows to you, lips warm against your hand. “Please, think on what I have said. I eagerly await seeing you again.”

No sooner has he climbed into his carriage than your mama practically accosts you trying to climb the staircase. “Well?” she demands. “What on earth did he say to you?”

You sigh, fighting the urge to bury your face in your hands and scream. “Not an awful lot, mama. That is what happens when you attempt to force a rake and a spinster into matrimony.” Folding your arms across your chest, your mama presses her lips into a thin line, displeasure etched into her features.

“You are not a spinster, dear.”

You scoff. “No thanks to you. I hope that whatever agreement you reached with the Healys is worth the cost of my happiness,” you say bitterly, not staying long enough for your mama to formulate a response and sweeping up the stairs. For the best part of an hour, you sit at your writing-desk, quill poised above parchment, writing and scratching out the same handful of words over and over in a Sisyphean rhythm. By the time you decide to give up and go to bed, ink-stains blotch your hands and bloom across your skirt with nothing at all to show for it.

Your sleep is restless, dreaming of engagement rings looming into shackles, binding at your wrists and ankles. Matthew’s smirk and his honeyed words drift through your dreamscape, a cruel torment disguised as remedy. Relief fills you as sunlight slants across your bed, your eyelids cracking open and letting you shake off the dream. You sluice cold water across your face, scrubbing the sleep from your eyes gratefully. Naturally, though, your relief is short-lived, your mama bustling into your room with three housemaids in tow, far too chipper for the hour.

“Good, you’re awake. Come, we are to the modiste this morning,” she says firmly. Resistance is futile, so you stand, letting yourself be primped and squeezed and poked at until you at least resemble a respectable lady. You rattle through the streets of London, the bustle of the city only serving to feed your longing for the worn paths and quiet streets surrounding your country house.

You hesitate deliberately at the door to the modiste, long enough that your mama scowls in frustration and seizes your arm harshly to drag you inside. The seamstress bustles over, your mama immediately lighting up and engaging her in conversation about the quality of her fabrics. Quickly, you tune it out, wandering idly across the shop floor. A hushed conversation drifts into your ear, and you pretend to be admiring the bolts of fabric stacked to the ceiling as you inch closer to its source.

“...Cannot imagine he’ll stay that way,” says a first voice, high and haughty. “Lord Healy was always the rake of his set, and has since travelled the world, surely… sampling many worldly women on his travels.” She pauses to allow her companion to titter snidely, giving you time to place her voice; it belongs to Evelyn Mountfitchet, a girl your age who had married in her first season, her tongue sharp and cruel, weaponised with her seemingly endless stores of gossip. Her companion, then, must be her sister Elizabeth, surely thrilled to be out in society and now privy to scandal. “I tell you, he’ll take what he wants from that girl, then leave her ruined and without a ring. It wouldn’t even be the first time,” she adds smugly, and you feel a pit open up in your stomach.

You hadn’t even considered the possibility of such a scheme, and now you feel even worse the fool for not seeing it. Everything dichotomous about him clicks into focus as if Evelyn has lifted opera glasses to your eyes. It couldn’t be plainer — his sweetened words, promising what he surely knew he couldn’t provide; his disinterest fading into persuasion as he determined you a desirable, susceptible target. You’re trapped, utterly and completely, worse than you’d thought. Until moments ago, the worst-case scenario had been living with a husband who carried on behind your back, with at least the respect tied to being a lady to cushion the blow. This is worse than you could have imagined. Lord Healy is going to leave you utterly ruined, whether you give yourself up or not: if that is precedent, that will be what the scandal sheets announce, that will become gospel to the ton, leaving you cast out, dishonourable, utterly unmarriageable. You won’t even be able to retire peacefully as a spinster with the stain that will stick to you.

“My goodness!” gasps Elizabeth, shocking you back to the present. “Who is the poor girl?” She sounds eagerly scandalised, a voracious little gossip-monger in the making.

Evelyn makes a non-committal sound. “I know not. The family are being ever so tight-lipped. Although, I suppose I should be, too, knowing my fate was either to have my daughter married off to or ruined by a man like him. Do you know he has tattoos? As if he were a shipyard worker or some other such lowlife,” she scoffs bitingly.

“He is ever so handsome, though. Perhaps the girl is so vile of face that his progeny will save the family from ruin. Or overwhelmingly poor, and they–” Elizabeth’s excited diatribe is cut off by exaggerated hushing, and you slowly sink into a chair as you attempt to process all that you’ve heard.

“You shouldn’t speculate so. Not where anyone could hear, at least.” Evelyn’s smirk is audible. “It is most likely that the family are simply desperate, that the girl failed to capture any man’s attention in her seasons, and must be married before she winds up in spinsterhood.” She pauses to giggle. “Perhaps it is the Marlowe girl.” Your blood runs cold. “Pretty enough, I suppose, but ever so odd. Fits the bill exactly, I’d wager.”

Nausea roils in your stomach. Having the news broken at a debutante ball would have been scarring enough, even with dozens of other girls for the vultures to circle. But having it found out early, allowing the scandal sheets days to pick over you and your history before you even set foot in a ballroom? It’s the stuff of nightmares. Delicate footsteps pick their way toward you and you scramble to stand, ducking around a corner to escape from view. No such luck, though. “Darling, where did you go?” your mama calls, obnoxiously loud. “I must see how this fabric will look against your complexion.” Face flaming, you pick your way back to your mama and the seamstress, letting them drape a delicate lilac silk across your shoulders.

“Oh, how wonderful you shall look, miss,” the seamstress declares. “Your engagement shall be the talk of London, I will make sure of it.” Your heart sinks, so fast and far that you’re sure it lays in two pieces in your slippers, Evelyn and Elizabeth exchanging a proud, shocked glance, and you know for certain you’ll be plastered across every gossip sheet in London the instant they come off the press.

You grit your teeth. “Yes, I am certain it will.” Your voice comes out scraped over gravel, your venomous glare in the sisters’ direction most definitely not helping matters. The dresses you paid for will be beautiful, to be sure, but hardly worth the stinging slap of humiliation you endured to get them.

When Lord Healy calls on you the next evening, you don’t even attempt to hide your scowl, listless as he attempts to ply you with flattery while leading you into the gardens. “News of our engagement will reach the gossip rags by morning,” you warn, tone flat and eyes directly forward, lest he disarm you with that deceptively sweet smile of his.

“Bollocks,” he swears. “Nobody in this godforsaken city can mind their fucking business.” His jaw clenches, furious, and you hate yourself a little for how undeniably attractive you find the emotion on him.

“Must you be so vulgar?” you snap. “Are you not putting me through shame enough for your selfish goals that you think it fair to humiliate me even before this farcical engagement meets its end?” The words come out bitter, corrosive and acrid on your tongue, genuine hurt written across Lord Healy’s face. “My lord,” you add poisonously.

His nails dig into your arm, halting you in your stride and forcing you to face him. “Are we really back to my lord? Damn. I had thought you might be warming up to me.” He throws you a grin that you’re sure makes the women he’s used to weak in the knees. When it doesn’t work, he switches tack. “Look, love. I don’t know what you’ve heard to make you think so lowly of me. I would have thought you of all people would know not to believe the scandal sheets, but–”

“Do not patronise me,” you hiss, wrenching your arm from his grip. “I know that you were engaged before, that you ruined some other poor girl. I know that you plan to do the same to me. I plead that you at least allow me some final months of dignity before you leave me with nothing.” Something sour has rooted in your chest, decaying from the inside out; your insides withering to match your reputation.

To your surprise and disgust, Lord Healy tips his head back and laughs. Revolted, you start to turn away, and he reaches his arm out. “That’s what this is about? Love, you couldn’t be more wrong. I was never engaged, I was courting the girl.”

“Oh, well, I’m ever so glad that was clarified. I suppose it shouldn’t matter, then.” Anger is boiling in your veins, his flippant tone only serving to further enrage you.

Lord Healy takes your hands, his skin soft and warm against yours. “If you’d let me finish,” he scoffs, but there’s fondness colouring his tone. His wide, brown eyes shine earnestly, and something convinces you not to pull away. “That girl was a friend, and I was doing her a favour, I swear it. She needed a way out of the ton, all its rules and restrictions, in order to live and love freely. And she is. Much happier these days, lives a more honest life than this.” He waves his hand, collecting your house and gardens in one insouciant motion. “I’ll take you to meet her someday, if you like. If you won’t be too scandalised by the kind of unsavoury company I keep,” he adds with a smirk, and some of the ice in your veins thaws.

Really, you have no reason to trust Evelyn Mountfitchet over him, spiteful woman that she is. Mollified, you slide your arm back through his, and his relief is palpable. “I’m not such a delicate flower, you know.” You pause, weighing your words carefully. “That was a kind thing to do for her, knowing what the scandal sheets would say.” You’re certain you know what sort of love the girl wanted, to necessitate such a sure and dramatic departure from polite society, and it’s a comfort to know where he stands in regard to such relationships. “I think that, perhaps, if it is til death that we may part, we ought to be friends,” you say cautiously. Matthew’s answering smile is brilliant, so dazzling that your heart melts just a little, like fondant on a hot day.

“I’d like that very much,” he says softly, something like affection in his gaze. “And, it was only the decent thing to do. I hate to see a friend struggling, especially not when I could help. Besides, it was rather mutually beneficial — the ambitious mamas kept away as if I were diseased,” he laughs.

“And now you are saddled with me,” you say. It’s intended as a joke, but it comes out self-deprecating and a little pathetic. 

“There are far worse women I could be saddled with,” he says, playful enough that you aren’t offended. He pauses, still and pensive. “Truly. You are a most unique manner of woman, and I mean that in the most earnestly complimentary way possible. If I were the marrying type, I would surely have devoted myself to capturing your affections.” You flush, pressing an embarrassed palm to your heated cheek. “I must commend your skills in deception, to convince so many that you are undesirable. Kind of you to allow the other girls in your set a chance.”

At that, you laugh outright, clapping a hand to your mouth in embarrassment. “It isn’t an act. I simply have no time for such things. Or, had, I suppose. I should have liked to be a spinster and utterly invisible to society, but I see that fate had other plans.” You wander your gaze over him, the soft curve of his mouth, the gentle slope of his cheek, the alluring lines of his body. You wonder, briefly, if maybe your life isn’t over. Maybe, just maybe, Matthew is a gift.

Something must change in your expression, because Matthew mirrors it exactly, a fond smile crossing his face and his hand moving from your arm to low on your waist. The contact is thrilling, scandalous and precious, a thing to be held onto and treasured. “We do make quite the pair, don’t we?” he chuckles. “An aspiring spinster and a rake with the heart of a romantic.” It’s eerily similar to what you said to your mother, yet woven through with the thread of gold that links you; a flimsy, frail thing, but shining nonetheless, and you allow the hope you had killed to flutter back to life, a butterfly beating its wings against your ribcage.

“A romantic, hm?” you begin, circumspect. “I don’t know if I believe that. If you are only playing the rake, you play him very well.” You hope your tone is coming across light and teasing, that you’re only curious at his motivation behind the falsehood, if one exists. “I have seen your behaviour firsthand, you know. Three years past, my first season out. You were quite the catch, and I don’t recall seeing you ever dance with the same girl twice.”

“Do you want the truth?” You nod eagerly. “My first season, I truly looked forward to the prospect of finding love. But there was never any thrill, any excitement, any romance. Every girl just a two-dimensional caricature of what is considered desirable, and most just sold off to the highest bidder. It’s all so proper, and it disgusted me. Earnestly, it reviles me that you haven’t a choice in this arrangement. If I could grant you one, I promise I would in a heartbeat.”

Your chest warms, heart softening with every word, passion spilling over every syllable. “I know,” you say softly, and mean it.

“The reputation as a rake came that year, I suppose. Polly and I came to the arrangement that we would pretend to court, and I would leave her ‘ruined’ and free. The scandal sheets simply ran with the idea, and I didn’t stop them. It kept the expectations off of me, but the more I came to know how the rest of England lives, the more I was overwhelmed by the sheer unfairness of it all. A friend of mine, my best friend, is deeply and irrevocably in love with a woman, a beautiful, kind, intelligent woman. The kind of love that should be shouted about from the parapets and paraded in the streets. And yet, he is forced to love her in secrecy and solitude, because she is not the ‘right kind of woman’ for a man like him.”

You frown, filled with sympathy for these lovers. “It sounds like a love story in a novel I would be forbidden from reading.” He laughs, liquid and mellifluous, the sound worming its way into your chest and cradling your thumping heart. “Well, that explains the rake. When does this supposed romantic heart come into play?”

Snorting, Matthew digs you in the ribs. “I’m getting to that. So impatient, aren’t you?” Something about those words runs cool water down your spine, a feeling you can’t place buzzing to life under your skin. “When I left England, I fell a little bit in love with everyone I met. So many people, so many places, so many lives, all unique and blessed in their own way. The wide world is true poetry, and I suppose that I long for a romanticised place in it.”

Your tongue feels thick and clumsy in your mouth, words you might struggle for hours to pen falling easily and thoughtlessly from his plush lips. For the first time, you notice that your mama has retreated inside, affording you the tiniest moment of snatched privacy. Emboldened, a wave of brazen desire overtakes you, so strong that you go lightheaded. Your mouth opens without permission, words spilling free before you can stop them. “I think I’d like to kiss you.”

Matthew smiles, eyes crinkling as one of his hands comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. The simple touch makes you weak in the knees, your gaze curious as he leans down, so close that his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. He murmurs one simple word. “Please.”

Your lips connect, head spinning as his mouth moves against yours. You’re floundering a little, at a loss in unfamiliar territory. Time slows around you; Matthew’s lips on yours the only feeling you know, your head going hazy like you’ve drunk far too much wine. It feels like you’ve been struck by lightning, like you’ve lived all your life in a sketch and suddenly been ripped into three dimensions.

The world blurs around you, grounded by his hand at your waist, his lips on yours. It’s all top lip, shockingly chaste despite the passion spinning between you, all your desire poured into the kiss. He’s breathing heavily when you pull apart, lips slick and face flushed. “Was that… I… I’ve never…” you trail off, suddenly riveted by the grass beneath your feet.

“Then you are a natural,” he praises, and you flush impossibly redder. “So adept on your first try, darling. I’ll surely die a happy man if you continue to kiss like that.”

“So presumptuous,” you tease, audacious bravado fuelling you. “Who says I’ll continue? Perhaps the desire has been flushed from my system,” you say with a smirk, laughing when he clutches his heart in mock-horror.

“You wound me so,” he laughs, taking your hand. That butterfly seems to have multiplied in your chest, a kaleidoscope of them fighting to burst free from your chest the longer his palm warms yours. 

You find yourself forlorn when he leaves, the mere hour you spent in his company having shifted your worldview on its axis. As you had expected, your engagement is plastered across every gossip rag you come across, but you don’t find yourself debilitated by it; you have a confidant in Matthew, at the very least, and a chance for companionship to bloom into something more. You don’t dare tease yourself with the word, refuse to prop open the window for him until you’re certain of what you want.

That night, your pen flies across paper, inspiration flowing free. You even pen a letter to Matthew that will never again see the light of day, a messy, raw untangling of your sudden feelings that bares your soul uncomfortably. Instead of dreaming of shackles and snide words, your head is filled with sparkling jewels and soft lips, hands in your hair and… You wake flushed and sweating, the mirage of his touch still on your skin, certain that you wear your shame plain on your face.

To make matters worse, your mama has invited a dozen respectable, recently-married ladies to pass the morning in your home, insisting that you must become acquainted with your peers in ladyship. Among them, of course, will be Evelyn Mountfitchet, sharp tongue poised to entertain the other ladies with a colourful recounting of your every misstep disguised as concern. Really, it’ll be an open forum to discuss your shortcomings while you’re forced to smile like you’re being lavished with compliments, and you’ll hate every minute of it.

Nonetheless, you are dutiful first and foremost, and knowing now that your married life shan’t be an utter torment buoys your spirits a little as your maid laces you into a sage-green daydress. Sipping at your tea, you peruse the morning’s scandal sheets, grateful that the vultures seem already to have moved on. The day’s transgression appears to be a lord having taken a fancy to a merchant’s daughter, leaving the family horrified when he presented her at dinner. You really ought to stop purchasing the gossip rags, but your curiosity wins out each time your fingers hover over the paper. In all fairness, the gossip is already printed — is there such harm in you being one of the hundreds of readers?

You curtsy idly to the women as they cross into the parlour, mentally reciting their names over and over to save yourself from any faux pas. Tight, awkward smiles and knowing glances thrown at your expense across the table in lieu of conversation, until the silence is miraculously broken. “My compliments to your cook, Miss Marlowe. I don’t know that I have ever been so delighted by tea and cake in my life,” says Mrs Vincent, a woman you remember as having a good, sensible head on her shoulders. You had been rather disappointed when her attentions were captured, hoping that you might have found a friend whose ideals lay in a similar bent to your own, but she and her husband seem a true love match, which is rare enough that you cannot begrudge her for choosing happiness.

“You are most kind,” you say, grateful for a conversation topic that allows you to hold your own. “Our cook comes from France, brings with her the most wonderful French cuisine.”

Evelyn titters snidely behind her hand, and you swivel to face her, annoyed. “Don’t you find it rather fanciful? Personally, I prefer a good, honest English meal. But, I suppose you ought ensure your palate is discerning to the tastes of your betrothed. He has rather a taste for the European, no?” The implication is clear, the other ladies watching with bated breath for your response.

Careful, practised calm holding you still, you take a pointed sip of your lemonade before you reply. “My betrothed is well-travelled, certainly. I could not be satisfied with a man who has no regard or curiosity for the wonders of the Earth beyond our borders.” It’s a simple, dignified response — that doesn’t acknowledge or address her insult. Exactly what the women at the table expect. You can see pity in their faces; they think you haven’t perceived it at all. “Although…” you add, a dozen heads suddenly perked up with interest. “If I recall correctly, your husband took a similar trip just months after you were married. Perhaps you concern yourself with the wrong man’s European… proclivities.” You try not to grin too smugly, eyebrows raised across the room and Evelyn turning an unattractive shade of puce. None of the other women thought you had it in you, and you know it.

Having spent years curbing your tongue, sitting in shadowed alcoves at balls, you’ve enough repressed wit and stockpiled gossip to start your own scandal sheet, should you so choose. Keeping your lips sealed and your cards close had seemed the best option when you were aiming to avoid notice, but with your position changed, you suddenly harbour a most esurient need to make the ton take notice of you. “Would anybody else like to offer their unsolicited opinion of my intended, or should the discussion perhaps turn to something more productive and befitting women of our station, hm?” 

Newfound respect is written across their faces, carefully reframing their social games in order to take you seriously as a player. You even enjoy the conversation a little, filing away each new piece of gossip with a grin and accepting invitations to social events you’d never have even glimpsed before today. Proud, satisfied and even a little excited as you wave your guests off politely, your mama stands smugly at your shoulder. “It is lovely to see you engaging willingly in your role, dear. Perhaps you might allow me to gloat a moment, for I recall telling you numerous times that if you would just–”

You square your shoulders. “I shan’t,” you say brusquely. Ordinarily, you’d never speak so bluntly to your mama, but the knowledge that you’ve mere weeks until you’re a lady in your own right emboldens you. “There is a difference between going somewhere willingly, and going there without complaint due to the executioner’s axe at your back. It is fortunate that Lord Healy is a good man, and one I could come to love, yes, but that could easily not have been so. He could have been any manner of man, a gambler, a drunkard, a sinner.” You aren’t yet entirely sure he isn’t the lattermost, if the heat you feel under his gaze is any indication, coiling under your skin and knotting in your chest, working its way down, down, down… Heavens, this is hardly the time! “And nonetheless I would be his wife. So, I implore you, do not mistake my acquiescence for forgiveness. I had made a choice, and you took it from me.” Your mama gapes at you as you leave, stalking into the library to lose yourself and forget all your troubles.

The passage of time escapes you, and you don’t realise how long you’ve been in the library, resting in a patch of sunlight like a house cat with your nose buried in a book until a maid finds you and informs you that you must dress for dinner. In all your distaste of the morning, your evening engagements had entirely escaped your awareness, and you dimly remember dinner with the Healys scheduled for the night.

Your ride is spent in stony, cold silence, your parents looking anywhere but your eyes. It’s not a long journey, thankfully, but it feels like an eternity before your carriage pulls to a stop and a footman helps you to the ground. You dip into a polite curtsy to Matthew’s parents, softening into a smile when you lock eyes with your betrothed. “You look wonderful. Doesn’t she, Matthew?” his mother says, nudging him unsubtly.

Matthew clears his throat, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I— Yes. I don’t quite… have the words for how lovely you look,” he says, his gaze intense as you meet it boldly.

“Thank you, my lord. You are too kind.” It’s a stiff response, measured and polite, born from uncertainty over your company.

His smile is winsome, your mama pinching your back as if to say I told you so, and you bite back a scowl. “I am afraid dinner is not quite ready yet,” he says with a polite nod to your parents. “Perhaps you might like a brief tour of the house, Miss Marlowe. It is soon to be your home, after all.”

Your mama makes a soft noise of protest. “That would be rather improper, no?” she says, casting glances at Matthew’s parents for support she evidently doesn’t find. You conceal a smirk; perhaps if she’d had a care to learn anything about the man she was marrying you off to, she wouldn’t need to be so concerned of what was proper.

“Oh, I do find the rules of propriety so stifling at times, don’t you? They are a young, engaged couple, we ought allow them a few moments of privacy. Come, we will take tea, and the men can have their whiskey and cigars. Dinner shan’t be long,” she says, and though your mama desperately wants to argue, a retort hanging from her lips, her own imposed rules of politeness prevent her — they are the hosts, after all.

Matthew takes you by the hand, the contact sending a pulse of warmth spreading from where his skin touches yours, and leads you deeper into the house. The moment you’re alone, he pulls you against a wall, his hands falling to your hips and grasping tightly. The closeness thrills you, heat prickling under your skin as he watches you with heavy, lidded eyes. “I have thought of nothing but your kiss since your lips left mine. May I kiss you?” he asks, hushed and reverent, and you nod slowly, eyes closing and head tilting up in anticipation. His lips meet yours, sweet and soft and gentle, but interlaced with a foreign, breathtaking hunger.

You melt against him, letting him take control of the kiss, determined but tender. You part your lips eagerly for his tongue, the taste of him suddenly overwhelming your senses. Breathing hard as you pull apart, you look up at him with wide eyes, feeling foolish and lovesick, some unfamiliar feeling of want pulling under your skin. “Is there really going to be a tour, or was that simply a facade to get me alone?” you tease, and Matthew smirks, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“I have often found that mixing an honest goal with an impure one can be… pleasurable… for all involved,” he answers, almost a purr. Something unknown thrills in your belly, licking down to settle in your core, forbidden. Then, his intense gaze breaks into a smile, and the tension breaks. “No, there really was somewhere I wanted to show you.”

Your footsteps echo through the cavernous halls, interspersed with breathless giggles when he pulls you a little too fast and you stumble into his arms, meeting in a sweet kiss before you start off again. You almost can’t believe your luck, that you’ll get to spend your days traipsing through these halls and kissing him whenever you like; you feel as though you’re waiting with bated breath, like pride must come before a fall.

With a dramatic flourish, Matthew comes to a stop before a grand set of double doors, flinging them open to reveal an even grander library. Your jaw drops as you marvel; stacks of shelves that must stretch the entire height of the house press against both walls, light filtering through a pane-glass window and puddling on the floor. He seems to sense your awe, his body warm at your back as he takes hold of your waist. “You seem like the kind of woman to appreciate a good book and some peaceful, private space.” He leans heavily on the word private and mouths at the shell of your ear, a shudder running through your body at his ministrations.

“I do,” you say shakily, though you can’t think of a time you’ve cared less about books than standing here with Matthew’s lips hovering against your neck.

“May I ask you something rather…” he says, slowly spinning you around so you’re face-to-face. “Improper?”

The look in his eyes is familiar, now, but impossible to define, eyes wide and crow-black. “It’s a little late to be seeking my permission for your indecorousness, no?”

Matthew smiles, the expression slow and salacious as it creeps across his face. “Perhaps,” he says, taking your hands and walking you deeper into the library. “But this is a question of a more… intimate… nature.” You’re acutely aware with every step that, should anyone else enter the library, the two of you would stay obscured from view. “I want to know…” he begins, voice low as he pulls you down onto a chaise, tucked neatly away in a shadowed corner. “What do you feel when I kiss you?”

Your heart speeds, stomach swooping as clumsy words stumble to your lips. “I— I don’t… I can’t describe it.” You lower your eyes, looking up at him through your lashes, that same, indecipherable look in his face.

“Would you like to know what I feel?” You nod minutely, breath caught in your chest. The air around you feels charged, like the minutes before a thunderstorm when your hair starts to stand on end. “I feel desire. Have you ever known desire, sweet thing? A quickening in your pulse, heat under your skin, smouldering in your chest.” Matthew inches closer with every word, pressing you back against the cushions until you’re almost prone, rucking up your skirts with one knee.

His every breath against your lips is incendiary, the feeling rushing under your skin finally given a name as you breathe out the word that might be your unmaking. “Yes.” Matthew crashes your lips together, slides a hand into your hair, all pretence at being a gentleman cast aside in favour of a frantic, consuming hunger. His tongue is greedy, his teeth sharp, pulses of pure want skittering down your spine and settling between your legs. The sensation thrills you, illicit and sharp and new, the heat of his body against yours soaking through your clothes.

“I was not entirely honest, before,” he says, and your blood runs cold. Your fear must be evident in his face, because he cups your cheek gently before he speaks. “When I said I had thought of nothing but your kiss. I thought of you constantly, certainly, but in a rather… filthier way.” His low tone washes over you, stomach clenching in some sort of sick anticipation as his lips meet your neck.

“What…” The words catch in your throat, desire clamping your neck like a vice. “What did you think about?” 

A gasp slips from your lips as Matthew catches your earlobe between his teeth, kissing softly at your pulse point and pressing a soft hand against your leg. “I thought about you while I pleasured myself,” he murmurs, and you go hot all over, your skin feeling far too small to contain all you’re becoming, your chest tight and pulse racing. “I spilled in my hand with your name on my lips. I thought of how you might look, undressed beneath me, caught in rapture. Have you ever felt pleasure like that, darling?”

His voice is low, raked over gravel. You can sense his restraint, that he longs to teach you. “We cannot. Not now, not here, not before we are married.” You taste regret as you speak, so consumed in desire that you want to discard every carefully-learned edict of society, but the warning bells that chime for this act are too much to ignore.

Matthew huffs a quiet laugh. “So, you haven’t. If you trust me, sweet thing, there are ways I can show you pleasure without fucking you.” He leans heavily on the curse, an answering thrill clenching in your stomach as his fingers find the hem of your chemise. “Would you like that, darling?”

“Please,” you gasp, a breathless invocation from wanton lips. Matthew’s hand creeps up your thigh, higher and higher until… Your eyes fly open, your entire body jolting as a spark of pure sensation catches you alight. “Oh, my God,” you cry, back arching up as he slowly circles with the tip of his finger.

“I also answer to Matty,” he smirks, and though you groan, you’re grateful for the diffused tension. Your hips move of their own accord, chasing the pleasure that spills from his fingertips. “My God, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he groans, his gaze fixed on your face as you slip into bliss. “Have you ever touched yourself like this?” You shake your head, whining quietly when he pulls his hand away and takes hold of your wrist. The tips of his fingers are wet where they meet your skin, and you flush crimson. “I’m going to show you how to pleasure yourself, and, tonight, when you’re laying in bed with your lights turned out, I want you to bring yourself to that peak as many times as you want; get to know your body in the most intimate way. And then,” he leans close, whispering into the shell of your ear, his filthy words coiling under your skin and licking deliciously down your thighs. “I want you to tell me all about it. As your husband, I must know exactly what brings my wife to ruin.” In the same moment, he slides two of your fingers into you, the sudden stretch between your thighs unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Matty’s thumb comes up to circle your bundle of sensitive nerves, puppeteering your fingers in and out of you torturously slow. “Can you do that for me, sweet thing?”

It takes a moment for your hazy mind to register what he’s asking, whining as your hips rock up into his touch. “Only if you go faster,” you gasp, choking on a whimper as he speeds his motions, pleasure washing over you and wiping your mind clean.

“Anything you want,” Matty murmurs, tugging on your wrist so your fingers speed up, pressing deep as your eyes roll back in your head. “Curl your fingers for me, love,” he instructs, and you obey unthinkingly, gasping as a shock of pleasure ripples through your body, drool pooling in your mouth as Matty watches you adoringly. “Does that feel good?”

You moan out an affirmative, writhing under his touch and slowly picking up a rhythm of your own, too caught in a haze of pleasure to find words for what he’s making you feel. Tension coils in your belly, your body limp and loose on your bones. “Oh, God, please,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re begging for. He knows, though, somehow able to show you exactly what you need as he slides two of his own fingers alongside yours.

“Oh, love, you’re soaked,” Matty croons, following along with your rhythm and steering you to move faster, every movement sending a ripple of desire pulsing through your veins. “I think you needed this, didn’t you, sweetheart? Needed someone to show you how to feel so fucking good?” His palm is warm against the back of your hand, calluses pressing rough against your skin as your body stretches out around him. Your eyes fall closed, head swimming in slick, gleaming ecstasy. “Come on, love. Watch,” he instructs.

Obediently, your gaze falls to where your hands are joined, your wetness dripping over your fingers and a slick sound embarrassingly audible; sounding in time with the thumps of pleasure rolling over you. You moan helplessly, letting Matty take control as you fall into bliss, his breath coming in hard gasps against your lips. There’s a pulling low in your stomach, a twisting tendril of carnality tugging at every muscle of your body. A final swipe at your bud of nerves sends you pitching over an edge you hadn’t even known you were approaching, biting down hard on your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out wantonly. You flutter around your fingers, gasping and rocking your hips, chasing the high as it fades from your grasp.

“That was… incredible,” you murmur, Matty’s expression at once smug and awed. “I’ve never felt anything like it. I just… fuck,” you breathe, almost a laugh as the curse slips from your lips, the only word that feels fitting for the feeling rolling through your body.

“I promise you, darling, that was barely the beginning. Just you wait until we share a bed.” He smirks down at you, the eye contact deliberate as he slides his wet fingers between his lips, swirling his tongue purposefully, desire spiking in your core all over again. “And you taste so sweet,” he praises. “Go on, have a taste for yourself, love,” Matty urges. Cautiously, you bring your hand up to your lips, softly licking at the pads of your fingers. The taste of you is unfamiliar, but you strangely don’t hate it, pressing an eager kiss against Matty’s lips and licking carelessly into his mouth.

You trade lazy kisses for a few long, sweet moments, breaking away only to giggle against his mouth and gaze deeply into his warm, honey-brown eyes. Eventually, regretfully, you pull apart and climb to your feet, legs shaking a little until Matty loops an arm around your waist to support you. The dinner is lovely, to be sure, and his parents are perfectly pleasant, but you can think of nothing but Matty’s eyes on you, his tongue in your mouth, his fingers stretching you out and pulling you into oblivion. The barest brush of his lips against your hand, a polite goodbye, is almost enough to set you off again, a shudder running through you as a knowing smirk pulls at his lips.

Matty’s gaze meets yours, sharp and challenging, and he mouths think of me just as you leave. A flush creeps up your cheeks, and you look away, the intensity of his eyes too much to bear. And yet, you obey, moonlight slanting across your bed as you push your nightdress up around your waist. Matty’s voice circles your brain, his name sweet on your lips as you drag yourself to that peak countless times. Your body is exhausted but insatiate, an endless well of greed tapped and free-flowing. You can barely stand to clean yourself when you finally give in to lassitude, legs trembling and a voracious cramp in your wrist.

Your mama gasps in horror at the circles under your eyes the next morning, shameful imprints of your long, desire-soaked night. “Goodness gracious,” she gasps. “What on Earth kept you awake all night? Good Lord, you aren’t a child anymore. You simply cannot spend your nights with a candle and your nose in a book any longer. You have responsibilities.” You nod idly, stifling both a yawn and a smirk. “Go back upstairs. Get some rest — you might at least attempt something resembling respectability for the ball this evening.” 

Oh. In your daze, you’d utterly forgotten. Ordinarily, you’d refuse out of spite, and your mama gives a long-suffering sigh, expecting a fight. But something thrills you about showing off your engagement so publicly, staking a claim on the man so many debutantes failed to ensnare. The chance that you might slip away with him into a shadowed alcove or a private garden certainly doesn’t hurt either. So, with nothing more than a slight scoff, you go back to bed, snatching a few hours of much-needed sleep. Visions of Matty dressed in full finery fill your head, a surprising, sudden excitement growing in your chest.

You can’t hold back a gasp when your mama produces your gown; you’d never bothered examining the new season’s dresses, already resigned to misery. Your fingers trail gently over the sparkling fabric, running like water under your touch. “You shall be the most spectacular thing in the room, dear,” says your mama smugly.

The word thing hits you like a splash of ice-cold water. Of course. “Yes,” you say faintly, your voice sounding muffled to your own ears. “I must pen a letter of thanks to the modiste,” you add pointedly, your mama’s face falling. She sweeps out of the room without a word as if to say, see how well you’ll look without me.

It turns out, unsurprisingly, that your ladies are even more proficient at their craft without your mama’s hawkish gaze picking and prodding at whatever she pleases. You gaze at yourself in the looking glass, awestruck. Your cheeks hold a healthy glow, dusted with rouge that matches the stain on your lips, and as you smile softly, you realise that, for the first time, you find your reflection pretty.

Even the now-familiar cold silence of your journey fails to dampen your spirits, the glittering warmth of the ballroom enveloping you as you cross the threshold. You search the room for Matty, a little crestfallen when his wild curls aren’t immediately apparent. Of course, you shake off your parents as quickly as possible, surprised by your sudden enjoyment of the atmosphere without the crippling burden of a dance card looped around your wrist.

Lost in the wealth of colour and light surrounding you, you jolt at a gentle touch to your elbow. Expecting to meet Matty’s warm, adoring gaze, you turn eagerly, only to come face-to-face with a lord who’s practically withering into dust where he stands. “Good evening,” he says, a sinister smile revealing half-rotted, missing teeth. “May I have this dance? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

You don’t think so either, but you’d be surprised if the man could remember how to button his own waistcoat. His fingers are like sandpaper against your bare arm, the sensation positively emetic. “I am spoken for, my lord,” you say, without even attempting at politeness. He’ll hardly remember it tomorrow, age-addled as he is. As if on cue, a murmur ripples through the young ladies, eagerness turning to disparagement as it reaches their mamas, and you look up to see three young men burst into the room.

On the left, the most serious-faced one holds up a pocketwatch, evidently admonishing the other two for their more-than-fashionable lateness, while the tallest one laughs him off. In the middle, you watch Matty slyly ribbing the former until he relents, smiling exasperatedly. “Ah!” you say brightly, grateful for the out. “There is my betrothed now. Good evening, sir.” You curtsy politely and blow out a relieved breath as soon as his back is turned, beelining for Matty and his companions.

“Hello, love,” he says warmly, something in your body instinctively relaxing in his presence. He takes your hand, warm in his calloused palm, and brings it to his lips. You smile a little self-consciously, hyperaware of the other two sets of eyes on you. Nodding politely to the other two men, you bite your lip and jerk your head at Matty; it isn’t polite for a lady to introduce herself to a gentleman, and you’ve too much company to publicly flout the rules of conversation.

When he doesn’t pick up the hint, the more solemn one shakes his head with an annoyed yet fond laugh, bowing politely. “Mr. Hann,” he says. “Adam, really.”

It seems to spur the other into action. “George,” he says simply, and you raise an eyebrow. “Lord Daniel, if you must be an utter bore about it.”

You curtsy, but flicker your gaze to the ceiling in the universal gesture of Lord, give me strength. “Great heavens, there’s two of them.”

Adam snickers. “Four, actually. I’m certain it shan’t be long until you discover that for yourself,” he adds with an enigmatic grin that makes you like him all the more.

“Fuck’s sake, Hann,” Matty scoffs, and you still jump a little at the vulgarity and how easily it falls from his lips. “I told you how hard I had to work to get her to like me, don’t go turning her against me now. I’m not all that likeable, you know.” He turns to you, and the full effect of his disarming, fathomless-deep gaze settles on you. You run hot all over. “Would you care for a dance, my lady? Before I allow you to be poisoned any further against me,” he chuckles, and you accept with a gentle smile.

Matty sweeps you into a waltz, leading commanding and effortless, and you can’t keep a smile off your face as you lose yourself in him. “You look radiant, love. Truly, a beauty like yours is mythical.”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you look away, demure and slightly disbelieving. “You’re quite the dancer, my lord,” you say, in an obvious and unconcealed attempt to divert the subject.

Thankfully, he allows it. “You sound surprised,” he says, mock-affronted. “I’m a musician at heart, darling, I could lead a waltz in my sleep.” You smile, but your attentions are drifting; snatches of conversation pass you by, murmured but not so low you can’t hear them. An odd pair… Surely ruin her… Heavens, look at him… Isn’t nearly pretty enough…

Matty is utterly oblivious to the noise, watching your face fall with obvious confusion. “What are we doing here, Matty?” you murmur, suddenly helpless. “Even if we could be happy together, how can that possibly be enough? Endless whispers, following us anytime we set foot in society; this stain stuck to us forever.” Pain is written clearly across his face — he wants to argue, but he’s at least allowing you the courtesy of coming to the point before he does. “You could still leave me,” you say quietly. “Find safety with the devil you know. Play the rake until the perfect girl comes along, one without all the collateral I carry.”

Fittingly, the song draws to an end, Matty pulling you to the edge of the room with eyes full of frustrated consternation. “I’m not going to fucking leave you,” he hisses, crowding breathlessly close. “You want me to go searching for the perfect girl, yes? I have travelled from nation to nation, spent days upon weeks in the open seas, visited wonders on every continent, and yet… if you were to ask me the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen? That smile, that first real smile you gave me. Without a question or a second thought. Please, darling, let me love you. See yourself the way I see you.”

Your resolve shatters, that greedy, hungry part of you that’s gone starved for love all your life snapping to the forefront in your chest. “How do you see me?” you breathe, low and pleading, hunting for an answer in his eyes.

“I know this house well,” he says, and your brow furrows at the sudden change of subject. “The thought of an audience for the maudlin display I am about to put on is almost too much to bear.” You huff a quiet, disbelieving laugh and let him lead you through a maze of winding, labyrinthine corridors until you come to an empty parlour. The air is still, quiescent, like stepping into a still-life portrait as you sit delicately at the edge of a divan. Matty sinks to his knees in front of you, resting his palms against your skirts over your thighs. “You want to know how I see you? I see a fierce, clever woman, one who has, perhaps, never been truly seen before. I see the woman I want to make a life with, who I want to share my thoughts, fears, dreams with. Who I hope will respond in kind.” Pure, earnest kindness shines in Matty’s gaze, a frail hope you recognise as a twin to the butterfly that perches on your ribs.

You can’t do anything but smile down at him, at a loss for words. “I simply… I just… I cannot…” you stammer, stopping and starting as if you’re hunched over your writing-desk.

“Do you trust me, love?” You nod mutely. “Then trust this, trust what you feel, trust yourself,” Matty urges.

Damn him. Damn him to hell. “Come here and kiss me.”

His wide, adoring smile turns to a slow smirk. “I’m perfectly happy where I am, love.” His hands fall to the hem of your skirt, slowly inching up your legs, familiar heat coiling to life between your thighs. “Now, tell me. Did you do as I asked last night, darling?”

“Yes.” The answer comes rushed, breathy, shameless. Matty gazes up at you, encouraging. “I thought of you, only you. I wished it were your hands bringing me to ruin over and over again, wished I could do the same to you.” His eyes are black with desire and your mouth goes dry. “I know that you have… experiences, and I do not wish to–”

“All that means, darling, is that I have the privilege of being the one to teach you,” Matty insists, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee. Your skirts brush against your heated skin, pushed up until he’s gazing at your exposed, glistening core. Your eyes follow him, questioning, as he leans ever closer. “You’ve felt pleasure by hand, yes, but what I really want is to get my mouth on you. Would you like that, sweet girl?”

You shudder. “Please.” No sooner has the word left your lips than his mouth connects with your core, lapping up your arousal with an ebullient hunger. A moan escapes you, blinding heat flashing across your skin. Your breathing is instantly ragged, pleasure burning in your chest as he buries his tongue deep inside you. 

Your hands slide into his hair, anchoring yourself to reality. His answering moan against your skin ripples through you, muscles tensing and loosening in keeping with your hammering heartbeat. “Just like that, darling.” Matty murmurs against your skin. “Good girl.”

The praise draws a long, pleading whine from your lips, a cavalcade of desire marching through your bloodstream. “Matty, oh, fuck,” you gasp. The profanity still feels foreign on your lips, but there truly isn’t another word in your lexicon that can describe the pure ecstasy coursing through you. 

Matty presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, smearing your arousal against your skin and licking you clean. A flash of teeth scrape against your tender flesh, pulling a gasp from you as you drag his mouth back to where you need it most. Euphoria winds under your skin, an insistent hum at the base of your skull growing louder with every passing second. His tongue works over you in sure, fast strokes, dragging you higher and higher. 

He sucks on your nerves, your legs flailing out helplessly in response. One of his hands creeps up, teasing your nerves as he fills you with his tongue over and over. A filthy sound fills the room, slick and wet and lustful, and you clench your hands into fists in his hair. You clench your thighs around Matty’s head, his tongue driving deep into you as you clench your thighs around his head, whimpered obscenities dripping from your mouth. His pace speeds, slows, never allowing you to get complacent in a rhythm, flames stoked in your core.

You’re half-delirious with it, implorations for something you couldn’t name falling slurred from your lips. Pleasure balls into a fist in your belly, hot and demanding, knocking the wind out of you as it slams into your gut. You gasp out his name in an endless litany, writhing with need as pure bliss rolls over you, loose and free on your bones. “Oh, my God,” you breathe, still pulsing with aftershocks as Matty pulls away, lips and chin soaked when he smiles up at you.

“No God, darling. Just me,” he says smugly, and you scoff. He quirks an eyebrow, licking his lips exaggeratedly. “What? Look around, love. Do you see God in this room? Or do you see a man, bringing you pleasure?” You bite your lip, chest still heaving with the tangible, real evidence of what you felt. “In any case, I am kneeling for you. Not for any God,” he finishes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, your slick obscenely visible against his alabaster skin.

Matty stands, pulling you with him, and tugs you in for a slow, deep kiss, the taste of you blooming in your mouth. “That’s blasphemy,” you say, appalled and intrigued in equal measure. “You could be prosecuted for that.”

He grins against your mouth. “Are you going to turn me in?”

Your heart thuds where your chest is pressed against his, heartbeats aligning in a perfect, rhythmic duet. “Never.”

[spinchip]

He keeps ending up in these situations- these soft, quiet moments with Zane where everything Lloyd wants to say is crowding behind his teeth before he swallows it all back down. He never felt bold enough to disturb the piece, or maybe he never felt sure-footed enough to navigate the conversation. The land around the topic of the Never Realm was still littered with landmines and sinkholes. Zane didn't talk to them about it.

They're stargazing. Lloyd was out here first basking in the rare alone time. He'd turned Kai away two hours ago when he'd come to check on him, but when Zane stood over him and blotted out the stars with a weak smile- Lloyd invited him to stay, and promised himself he wouldn't shelve this conversation for another day.

He's look at Ursa Major when he says it, "I'm Afraid you'll never be okay again."

There's a soft pause.

"I am okay, Lloyd." Zane reassures him in a voice that is so much more monotone than before the Never Realm, "Therapy has been extremely rewarding. I feel like myself again."

He sits up, propping himself up on arms that don’t tremble, “You’re not yourself, though.” He feels like he has to force the words out from behind the lump in his throat, “You don’t cook, or meditate, or bird watch anymore-” He stops to center himself, “...I’m scared you’ll never go back to normal.”

Zane is the quiet one this time.

Lloyd lies back down, feeling worse than before. They watch the stars trek across the sky.

“I believe this is the new normal, Lloyd.” He says very, very quietly.

Immediately Lloyd sits up again, twisting to face Zane, “How can you say that? Two months ago you were acting totally fine! Yeah, when you came back from the Never Realm you spent a whole month alone in your room... but then you were Zane again, and now- now you’re…”

“Different.” Zane finishes, “I have changed.”

“Yeah.” Lloyd turn forward, staring down in his lap.

No one says anything. Lloyd feels like he's royally blowing this conversation and making everything worse.

“...When I first returned from the Never Realm, I was... in a dark place. It was easier to hide and sort through things on my own, But I… had not dealt with it as well as I could have. After I spent that time alone and I returned to the team, once more joining with the group socially, I was still a mess. I did not know who I was, and I did not feel like anyone- not Zane, and not the emperor. So I looked in my memory banks and pretended.”

Lloyd looks back at Zane, who’s eyes are fixed resolutely on the moon and not Lloyd's reaction. “You… what?”

“I did not want to worry you. My theory was that If i acted like I was okay, I would be. I hoped I could figure it all out before anyone realized I was wearing a mask, that I could fix myself to the point where I could stop pretending.” He links his hands together on top of his stomach, “Then Cyrus Borg put me in touch with his therapist." Two times a week, every Monday and Thursday. Lloyd knew that. "She helped me realize that this act I was putting on was not a positive move for me and my recovery. It is not that I have regressed, Lloyd- i have simply stopped pretending to be who I used to be.”

“You were trying to protect us?”

There’s another pause, “It was partly selfish, too. I was… afraid. I was scared that if you and the others realized just how much I had changed, you would not see me the same. That the love you had for me would not be able to adapt to who I have become.”

“I- of course we would love you! Always!” Lloyd insisted immediately, “It’s not- I didn’t mean- I was just worried. I’m sorry.” He feels shame curdle in his gut at his earlier words, unintentionally picking at Zane's insecurity.

“I understand your feelings, Lloyd. You do not need to apologize,” He smiles softly at him and its not the same smile Lloyd is so used to, but it has its own warmth, “Change is not… a bad thing. The circumstances leading to this were, but this is what healing looks like for me at this point. I am figuring out who I am again- I do not bird watch or cook or meditate, no, but I think you’ll be surprised at how good my knitting has gotten.” He offers Lloyd another tiny smile, “I am finding my happiness again.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Zane's soft blue eyes flicker back up to the stars and his smile turns gentle, “You are always helping, even if you do not realize it. All of you are.”

[chrisgetsmewet]

Birthday girl

warning: smut, cheating, p in v sex

summary: it's you birthday and your bestfriend is making you cake! she had to leave for some ingredients and left you home alone with her bf. She should've known you guys liked eachother right?

A/n: first time writing smut go easy on me😭🙏

"alright guys, theres a shop that sells butter cream just an hour away from here" riley shouts tiredly, grabbing her coat by the door. "Couldve sworn I'd already picked some up. but anything for the birthday girl. also make sure to keep an eye on the oven!"

"riley we're not that incompetent" matt rolles his eyes.

"of course, we got it!" you answer as she leaves, and turn to face matt."you should be nicer to her"

"i am nice" he responds. "besides your the birthday girl, it's you i should be nice to"

"but she's your girlfriend. you have to be nice to her all year round." you put the empty batter bowl in the sink as matt stares at you across the kitchen, leaning against the counter top.

"Im about as nice to her as she is to me" he murmurs and you look back in confusion. were they having issues and you didn't know about them?

"that couldn't be farther from the truth, riley is the perfect girlfriend and you-" you paused looking at him up and down with a light scowl. "-well you're you"

"ah, so you think im not good enough for her how cliche y/n" he gives you a look of displeasure. "and what is it that makes me so unworthy of her"

"look you're not a bad person, you're just.." you sigh struggling to put your thoughts into words. "look at it this way- riley is a person thats rare to find. she manages to be successful and beautiful while also being humble and kind- i know for a fact she would do anything for you. and she's even driving an hour to get frosting for me her bestfriend. thats the kind of person she is" you ramble on, walking around the kitchen as matt stares at you in fascination.

"and then theres you, who has forgotten ever anniversary and put your job over her, because you think it's just so much more important. you see where im getting at?"

matt furrows his eyebrows as he processes what you're trying to say and you think he might get mad at you for a second, but to your relief he cracks a bright smile.

"don't get me wrong im just as much as a mess as you are. and just as unworthy." you laugh and a puzzling smirk crosses his face.

"so you're saying i should be with someone who better suits me?

"yes, exactly."

"someone like... you?" he raises an eyebrow.

you chuckle nervously and take a step back, suddenly aware of how close he's gotten.

"obviously not. I-I didn't mean for it to sound like that" stuttering, you try to move away from him but he doesn't budge, his tall figure towering over you. that stupid smirk plastered on his face increases your heart rate.

"whats the matter sweetheart?" he sneers

"stop playing around" you push him away by his chest and escape to the sofa, slumping down in it with a huff.

"riley told me about the little crush you had on me." he stands behind you and you refuse to face him, consumed with embarrassment.

"crush is a strong word for whatever that was" you feel your cheeks burning up at the memory; when you first met matt at a party, you'll admit you wanted him all to yourself. but what were you supposed to do when riley got to him first? You can't believe she told him.

"so you don't find me attractive anymore?" He asks in that provocative tone of his.

"the outside is fine but the inside could use some work." you feign confidence, avoiding the question. to be truthful, you found him incredibly attractive. So much so that you actively avoided him because you felt yourself folding under pressure anytime he was near.

"can i let you in on a little secret?" he asked quietly, taking a seat in the footstool across the sofa.

"no, but i have a feeling your gonna tell me anyway" you brace yourself.

"the night i saw you and riley at the party playing pool" he begins. "i wanted to approach you not her"

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"but she came up to me first and when i asked her who her bestfriend was, she told me you weren't intrested... in men." your mouth falls open at his words.

"I-I don't know what to say." You stutter, feeling a small sense of betrayal run through you. "I dunno why she would do that"

"because she knew she couldn't stand a chance otherwise." He gets up to sit next you and you tense up at his knee lightly brushing past yours.

"i thought you were a lesbian half the time I've known you- until you started dating that loser a few months ago and riley had to come clean. She thought id find it funny." he curls his lips in disgust.

"and did you?"

"No." He responds. blue eyes staring right through you. "Im still mad about it."

"matt.." you cautiously murmur, sensing the direction this could take.

"Im just saying, remember that next time you want to rant about how great she is. if it wasn't for her lying we would have been together" he rests his hand on your leg but you swiftly brush it off.

"but it's not. And it never will be. you'll always either be her boyfriend or her ex. either way your off limits." You try to assert some boundaries before your self control completely slips away from you.

"and if it weren't for these limits?" He reaches his hand up, tucking your hair behind his ear.

"Oh god, the cake! must go check on the cake" you get up, trying to escape his grasp but he pushes you back down.

"i said if it weren't for those limits?" He repeats sternly and you can't help but fixate on his pink rosy lips. you'd always wondered what they felt like pressed up against yours.

"in another universe if it wasn't her it would be me." you sigh, walls crumbling down "id be yours."

"is that what you want" he mutters, barely above a whisper.

"it doesn't matter. lets face reality" you shuffle back a little in an attempt to impose some distance between.

"Fuck reality. I want you." he pulls you in and you're hit with a wave of warmth radiating off his firm body.

"matt, no. Riley is my bestfriend! im not a homewrecker" you cry out, unsure whether your trying to convince him or yourself.

"you cant wreck something thats already falling apart. i dont care about her- i don't care about any of it anymore. For gods sake i even hid the buttercream because i wanted her to leave us alone for a while." Your mouth gapes open at his revelation

"I knew it!" You point your finger at him and he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you onto him, faces barely inches apart.

"i need you. In every way possible" his voice is so breathy it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

"ugh matt I- "

"Do you want me as much as i want you? please y/n" he whines and you bite your lip over the beautiful desperation in his words.

"Of course i want you, i always have." The words barely leave your mouth before he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you sloppily, grip on your jaw a little to strong. he was gasping for air, stubbornly holding onto you like it's the last kiss he'd ever have.

"don't worry about her, I'll take care of everything" he rubs your cheek with his thumb comfortingly and you feel all your worries melt away; he was here, he would fix it all.

"I've thought about this for so long" you cry, pawing at him. the sense of elation you felt at finally being able to touch him, inhale him, taste him- after an enternity of pushing every feeling down. You did it all out of respect of riley, out of respect of matt who chose her- but now that you learned the truth, restraint flew out the window. He should've been yours- he is yours.

"Lie down for me sweetheart, i wanna see my pretty girl" he pushes you down onto the sofa and inches your skirt down, admiring your pretty pink panties. "You wear these just for me?" You nod frantically, it was true you wore everything for him. Your best underwear, your prettiest lipstick/lipgloss, your shortest little skirts, it was all for him. He pushes your top up slowly, messy kisses being planted all over your tummy until he reaches your perky tits.

"Is there a reason you don't have a bra on baby?"

"Mhm, it's fun watching your urge to stare everytime they move"

(this conversation their having is making me cringe yall but i gotta do what i gotta do😭)

"you noticed that, huh?" You giggle at his honesty as he rips your top off, laughter instantly replaced with breathy moans as he squeezes your boobs harshly, sucking on your nipples.

"best pair of tits I've seen in my life" he mutters into your chest as he continues to kiss and licks all over, making you writhe underneath him.

"matt, please" you buck your hips up towards him desperately needing more. "hurry we don't know when she'll be home"

"Then thats a good thing the door bolts shut from the inside." He grins, hands trailing down between your thighs.

"no! we cant lock her out, what would she think?"

"i don't care, all i know is if i don't get enough of this pussy, im gonna lose my mind." He groans as he hooks his arms under your legs and pulls you down, pulling your panties to the side. you bashfully cover your face with your hands as he rubs your clit with his thumb and when you peak through your fingers, you see him biting his lip and curving his eyebrows into a pitiful swoop. Just as you think it can't get better, he lowers his boxers and frees his cock, heavy length slapping against his stomach. not wanting to inflate his already big ego, you try not to looked shock- but he sees right through you.

"You tryna make me feel bad, sweetheart? no problem, I'll have you squealing in a minute anyway." He confidently asserts and you feel him rubbing his tip along your soaking folds; the anticipation alone is enough to make you throw your head back.

with one sudden thrust, he pushes himself into your tight pussy and you sink your teeth into the pillow beside you to conceal some of the noise. reaching forward and grabbing it from you he tosses it aside and grabs you by the jaw.

"i want to hear every little sound you make."

"b-but someone might hear-"

"I don't give a fuck" he asserts aggressively. "Let them hear. they might as well start getting used to it." you moan at his depraved words, drool forming around your lips.

"if you want something in your mouth that bad, here" he offers his fingers- which you accept gratefully, sucking and biting on them to your hearts content. Just as you've adjusted, he slides the rest of his cock in- filling you so deeply you question how it's even possible. The mewling that proceeds boosts Matt's ego more than is healthy; you pant and whine so fervently that you look like you're on the verge of passing out. your pupils are dilated, your hair messed up, your thighs dampened from arousal and sweat.

"mm fuck- fill me up, please!" you dig your fingernails into his back as he lowers himself to kiss your wet lips, silencing your sobs and pleading if only for a moment.

"you want my cum, sweetheart? let me hear you say it"

"yes please, yes! I want you to fill me up so bad, it's the only thing i want." you ramble words barley audible over the loud sounds of smacking and squelching.

"i could never say no to you." he whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck planting open-mouth kisses.

"i need it, i need it noww." you whine, tits bouncing as he roughly pounds into you, strong hands maintaining a firm grip on your hips as he rams himself into you one last time: cum spiling from his tender cock and filling you up to the brim. Pulling out, the sensation of his cum dribbling out of you doubled with his thumb circling your clit sends you over the edge, orgasm washing over you like a tsunami, he rests his head on your chest as you both catch your breath, running your fingers through his hair.

"im gonna leave her." He softly speaks. "im leaving and im telling her about us"

your heart seizes in both panic and excitement. theres an us?

The familiar thud of footsteps in the hallway has you both scrambling to get dressed- you pull your top back down and your skirt back on but you can't find your frilly panties anywhere. Matt just about finishes zipping up his jeans when riley walks in to the sight of her very flustered-looking best friend and boyfriend, sitting oddly far apart in an unnatural position on the couch.

"Hey guys, i had to check several different stores but i finally found the right buttercream, what have you- wait, do i smell something burning?"

fuck, you forgot the cake

running over to the oven, she scrambles to pull out the smoking tray, despair takes over her face when she sees the round crust, black as cinder.

"how did you forget?!? What were you doing?" She yells, throwing the ashes straight into the trash bin and frowning at you.

"Nothing, riley. we just got carried away chatting is all 'm really sorry'. You walk over to join her in the kitchen but starting to feel matts seed leaking out of your stretched-out hole and dribbling down your thighs. Noticing the glistening sticky wetness, matt rushes over in front of you to distract his girlfriend.

"it was my fault, i said I'd keep track of time and i didn't." He explain subtly tossing a kitchen towel your way.

"classic matthew, honestly a monkey could have better management." She hisses, barging past him and opening a window to let the smoke out. "No wonder you always forget our anniversaries" he takes a shaky breath and you can see how hard he's trying to restrain himself.

"Not now" you think, giving him a knowing glare and he nods reluctantly. Riley stomps over to the bathroom and you quickly wipe the cummy mess off your thighs, giggling a little at the excitement of sneaking around. Matt rushes over and gives you a feverish kiss, whispering in your ear "she goes to bed early, you know."

maybe you wouldn't tell her just yet.

A/n: pt. 2 maybe?

[icyg4l]

PAC: July 2024 Predictions

Hello beautiful people! This is my last week posting/sending readings out for a while! I will be back, but I just need a moment to focus on real life. So if you would like to book a reading with me, don’t hesitate to message me privately! Anyway, tonight I will be talking about your July 2024. So please, without further ado, please select the pile that resonates with you!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-3)

Pile One: I heard "weighing out your options". I think you may be in the middle of figuring out your taste in love. However, you may be making a risky decision. Remember this everything that feels good ain't always good for you. This month, you will learn to be stingier with your love. Also, there may be someone around you that is negligent. There is no reason to take the high road with them, you need to figure out what goes on and come up with a resolution to prevent this from going on any further. I feel like you will be cutting ties with someone who has been embarrassing you. It will be sad and hard to do, but you only have one life. I also heard "count your blessings". You need to see the light in today. Act like you care about what's going on around you. There is someone who has been picking with you, it's time to cut them off! I see you feeling relieved by the end of the month (only because Leo season aka the best season has startedddd) Overall, this month seems like a good month to start over. Reignite the passion in your life and start today!

Pile Two: "Plagued with confusion" is what I just heard. I feel like this July will be kind of hard for you, Pile Two. There is something that will feel off about this month. Get your mind out the gutter, for one. But also, there is something that is feeding on your energy. It feels vampiric. A person who treats you like a baby or has a newborn baby could be significant. You are your own person. You show up as yourself and get the job done! But you have to stop letting people take advantage of your innocence. I'm watching this anime called Nana. Nana K is the very innocent, perky, loving friend who wouldn't hurt a fly. That's you, Pile Two. But just because you wouldn't hurt a fly, doesn't mean the fly won't hurt you. It seems as though you will be on a quest for independence. Trying to find your way while also trying to see what's your niche. You are young and you will figure it out. Don't let anyone tell you thank you can't. If you really want it that bad, then it can be achieved. This is cliche to say, but just believe! "Wish Upon A Star!" could be a relevant movie to you.

Pile Three: You could be taking a trip out of the country. Barcelona comes to mind. I see you also being receptive to food requests as well. You may be a picky eater, but this month you won't be, lol. Some of you are in summer school, trying to bring a grade up/trying to make the next school year easier. You should try to receive counseling as much as you can. It will ease your mind and in return, your grades will be much better. I heard the word proficient. During this time, you could find yourself doing a lot of backpacking. This is very specific but if you have been praying on someone's downfall, they will receiving their rightfully deserved karma. I am hearing a leprechaun laugh. This is someone's abusive ex or manipulative ex-bestie. I think that you will try to keep your calm this month. You should repeat mantras to yourself, everyday. Maybe you should listen to some more Jhene Aiko. I heard Kevin Gates??? LOL! You will be in touch with your feminine energy during this month so try not to be so active. Be ready for anything, beloved. And lastly, some of you will try out for a sports team. You'll get in because of your connection to the coach or one of the primetime players. Also, some of you could be going to a sports game for free because of one of the players/coaches.

[lilstarkeydream]

Hidden Flames- Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N, a Kook who prefers the company of her Pogue friends, slowly falls for Rafe Cameron. Despite their growing feelings, they maintain a facade of hatred due to their conflicting social circles and personal insecurities. Y/N is best friends with Sarah, Rafe's sister, which fuels Rafe's hidden affection. He despises how Y/N hangs out with the Pogues, believing she has more potential, while Y/N can't stand Rafe's for fights and stuck up nature. After a dramatic confrontation, they confess their feelings but must keep their relationship secret, with only Sarah and Topper in the know.

Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, Smut, Adult language, Violence, Alcohol use

Authors note: Hey guys! This is my first time writing any fan fiction, so go easy on me but I hope you enjoy. I am hoping to have another chapter up within the next week, as well as a series navigation. Feel free to send requests if you have story ideas for Rafe (check my bio).

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It was 9 o'clock on a Friday night. Nightfall had crept up before you knew it, and the island was alive with the buzz of another wild party. After a long day working at the golf course, you headed straight to your best friend Sarah Cameron’s white mansion. Known as the Kook princess, Sarah had welcomed you into her world since you moved to the island in middle school. The Cameron residence had become your second home, between sleepovers, getting ready for parties, and just gossip sessions. Despite the bitter fallout between Sarah and Kiara, which shattered your once inseparable trio, you managed to stay close to both, splitting your life between Kooks and Pogues. 

Sarah's boyfriend, Topper, was a constant presence. As her older brother’s best friend, he was also practically part of the family. You weren’t super fond of Topper, as he could be a self-entitled asshole, but he made her happy for the most part- besides their weekly fights and Topper getting mad at Sarah for the littlest of things. He made her happy that’s all that mattered. Rafe Cameron is Sarah's older brother and Topper's best friend, he was also a self-entitled asshole, who you, unfortunately, had to see on a weekly basis, due to the mutual connection. Topper and Rafe also golfed a lot, leaving the interactions unavoidable since you worked as a Bev cart girl for extra cash. Rafe was insufferable, to say the least, he always found a way to make your life a living nightmare. 

Your other time is spent hanging out with the Pogues- JJ, John B, Kiara, and Pope. Both you and Kiara are technically Kooks, but honestly, that lifestyle became too much for you both all the time. Hence how you found your best friends, the Pogues. The Pogues offered freedom, adventure, and a sense of belonging you hadn’t found anywhere else. Your parents disapproved, deeming your Pogue friends as bad influences. They never understood why you would want to degrade your self-worth and reputation, but they don’t understand how intoxicating Kook life can truly be. Your life felt like a constant balancing act, a war between the adventurous and fulfilling life as Pogues and the obligations of being a Kook. 

Now, you were at Sarah’s house, frantically trying to find the perfect outfit for the party, rummaging through her expensive wardrobe. You were caught between wanting to look sexy or slutty, and trying to distract yourself from the anger simmering from your encounter at work earlier that day. Every dress you held up seemed to fall short of the image you had in mind. Rafe Cameron had made yet another one of his insufferable comments, making it impossible to make focus. You tried to shake off the previous encounter from the gold course.

Earlier that afternoon, the golf course was bathed in golden sunlight, creating the perfect atmosphere for your shift. As the beverage cart girl, you were used to dealing with the occasional lewd remark or entitled attitude from the Kook golfers, but Rafe always took it a step further. You had just finished serving drinks to a group of older businessmen when Rafe called over, his smirk as infuriating as ever, signaling he only wanted to cause you chaos

"Hey there, service girl," he said, leaning against the cart with an exaggerated casualness with the usually smug grin hung on his face. "Nice to see you finally doing something useful for once."

You forced a tight smile, hoping to get through the interaction without causing a scene. "Can I get you anything, Rafe?"

"Yeah, how about a little respect?" he sneered back, his body language reeking of mockery. "Or is that too much to ask from a Pogue-wannabe like you?"

Your hands instantly tightened on the steering wheel of the cart, every muscle in your body screaming at you to say something back, to put him in his place. If anything he was even worse. But you knew better. Engaging would only escalate the situation, and Rafe thrived on conflict, he wanted you to respond with a snarky comment. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, preparing his drink and handing it to him with forced politeness and a tight-lip smile on your face. 

"Here you go, Rafe. Enjoy your day."

He took the drink, his fingers brushing yours in a way that felt more like a taunt than an accident. "Don't screw it up too badly tonight, alright? Wouldn't want you embarrassing Sarah in front of everyone."

The comment stung more than you cared to admit. It wasn't just his words; it was how he always managed to make you feel small and insignificant- solidifying your existing insecurities. As he walked away, laughing with his friends, you felt the familiar mix of anger and frustration bubble up inside you.

As you were brought back from daydreaming your anger only grew, causing you to blurt out your day's frustration, "I fucking hate him, Sarah. All he does is go around doing drugs and causing fights. I was so close to flipping out today." pacing around Sarah’s room, venting. You already debriefed Sarah on the whole incident, but you couldn’t help but talk about it again. Your usual thick skin was not feeling so intact. 

Sarah looked at you with her empathic face, sighing, trying to calm you down "Y/N, you know he just tries to get under your skin. It’s what Rafe does."

Frustrated, you rolled your eyes, "He doesn't care about my feelings. He thinks I’m a total disgrace to the Kook name. Maybe he’s right. I don’t give a shit about the Kook life and do half of what I do to please my parents."

You continued pacing, finally settling on a black dress that hugged your curves, pairing it with your simple burgundy swimsuit underneath. Leaving your hair down, you opted for simple strap sandals, finally feeling ready for the night. 

Rafe Cameron is a special kind of infuriating. You try to tolerate him, you do, but his constant snarky comments about every aspect of your life makes him incredibly punchable. No matter how tall and handsome he might be, it didn’t matter in this instance. You could handle some comments, but you weren’t a complete pushover.

Sarah trying to steer the conversation to a happier note, in an attempt to diffuse your anger “Let's just go to this party, get blasted drunk, meet some people, and forget about tonight. Rafe isn't worth the stress."

Taking a deep breath, you knew she was right, momentarily letting go of your anger “You’re right. I’m not going to let him ruin our night. Let’s go have some fun." Finally settling down from your pacing, you put the final touches on your makeup sitting down in front of Sarah’s mirror.

“I know I’m right Y/N” giving me a loving side glance “Plus why does it matter what he thinks anyway. He’s always high and pissed off”. She paused for a second, finishing up her hair. “Alright, we're all ready to go and get drunk as fuck?” she said with a smug look on her face. 

You took a deep breath, letting the tension of the day slip away. Sarah's carefree attitude was contagious, and despite everything, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. She might be a little blind to her brother's flaws, especially since she was dating Topper and their worlds were so intertwined, but she was still your best friend.

After a quick car drive and lots of shuffling through Sarah’s mixed-genre playlist, you arrived at the more-than-alive scene of the party. You weren’t even sure whose house it was but hell that didn’t matter. A party is a party. Music instantly fills your ears as soon as you step out of the car. The front yard was packed with people, a mixture of Kooks and Pogues mingling together, the tension of their social divide momentarily forgotten. Almost serving as a symbol for what your pogue-kook life looked like. 

Walking through the front door, the house was a blur of lights and laughter. You made your way to the kitchen, the center of every good party. You hugged Sarah as she wanted to venture off to find Topper, as usual, but you didn’t mind. You needed a little break to gather your thoughts anyway. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and perfume mingled with the heavy aroma of alcohol and smoke, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Grabbing a red solo cup from the stack, you filled it with a generous amount of a strong mix of whatever was handy—tonight was about forgetting the week’s frustrations. You took a small sip, wincing slightly at the strong taste, but internally smiling at the immediate warmth of the alcohol that spread through your chest.

The drink was strong, probably vodka, but you needed it. As you leaned against the counter, you took a moment to take in the scene around you. The living room was a blur, with loud music thumping in conjunction with conversation and laughter. 

Despite the alive atmosphere, the exchange between you and Rafe still lurked in your mind. Sometimes you felt like a Kook who didn’t quite fit in, you have well-off parents and a promising paved future with privilege and opportunity. Your parents envisioned you with a successful career, bringing pride and status to the family name. Yet, you were never a huge fan of the behavior the Kook lifestyle manifested, often self-centered, ignorant, asshole-like individuals. Rafe is a great example of that.

With your drink secure in your hand, you pushed yourself off the counter and made your way through the house outside to the bonfire. You felt a wave of relief as soon as the fresh ocean air hit your face, heat from the fire mixed with the ocean breeze creating a perfect party atmosphere. You spotted your friends - JJ, John B, Kiara, and Pope, sitting around the fire, laughing about something stupid JJ said. The genuine joy is clear on their faces, contrasting with the pretentious kook attitudes.

With a big grin on your face, you called out, “Hey guys, mind if I join you?”

Kiara’s eyes lit up in recognition of your face, “Y/N! Get over here, come sit down. We were just talking about crazy stuff JJ pulled off last week. “ 

As you settled in, the warmth of the fire continued to provide comfort as well as your friends began to ease your previous tense state. JJ went into vivid detail about his last mischievous adventure, our expressions displaying a mix of disbelief and laughter at his antics. The conversation effortlessly flowed, sharing jokes and stories that had everyone laughing until their stomachs hurt. I could feel the effects of the alcohol starting to take effect. In other words, the night was perfect. For a moment, it felt like everything in the world was right. These moments with your Pogue friends were ones that you cherished most. They made you feel alive, grounded, and understood; something you missed out on in your Kook life.

Eventually, you reached the bottom of the solo cup, signaling a refill was needed. Standing up, you navigate your way back to the kitchen, passing both Kooks and Pogues you couldn’t put a name to. The house became a maze, with more people filing in as the night was still young. As you reached the familiar environment of the kitchen for the bottle of Vodka, you suddenly bumped into someone. Looking up, you found yourself face to face with the one and only Rafe Cameron, his ocean-blue eyes, slightly glazed with alcohol and god knows what other drugs, looking down at you. His presence was overwhelming, you could smell a mixture of his cologne and the sharpness of vodka. 

Rafe smirked down at you drunk, “Well, well, look who decided to slum it with the Pogues tonight. Have you decided you're finally trying to find yourself a real man, Y/N?”

His words were a direct hit causing you to look away, annoyance taking over your face, however, you kept your cool, “Just enjoying the party, Rafe. Not that any of it is your business” 

Rafe took a step closer, lowering his voice for only you to hear, “Everything you do is my business, Y/N. Don't you forget that?” His sudden proximity made your heart race, you felt a mix of anger and something else- something else you wouldn’t dare to acknowledge.

Flustered, you shot back, “Fuck off, Rafe. You don’t care about me.” You angrily push him away, your hands firm against the muscles of his chest, and quickly turn around, making your way back to your friends. The interaction with Rafe left you shaken, the interaction making you once again feel so small yet so noticed. You quickly downed two more drinks, trying to steady your nerves. Taking in Sarah’s words from earlier to just try and enjoy the night.

As the alcohol coursed through your veins, you started to feel a pleasant buzz, hoping the tension was behind you. You felt engulfed by your friend's laughter with the warmth of the fire.

Suddenly, your mood shifted once again, as you saw Rafe Cameron making his way towards the bonfire. This time more drunk and agitated. 

As Rade approaches he spits "Y/N, you think you can just walk away from me like that?"

You stood up, the alcohol giving you a false sense of courage. "What the hell do you want, Rafe? Can't you just leave me alone?"

Rafe rolled his eyes, continuing to mock you “Oh, look at you. Acting all tough in front of your Pogue friends. You’ll never be a pogue Y/N, just give it up!"

The Pogues immediately rose to your defense, with John B stepping forward. "Back off, Rafe. She doesn't need to deal with your shit tonight." John B stepping between you and Rafe. 

Topper, along with a few other Kooks, approached to back up Rafe. "Stay out of it, John B. This is between Rafe and Y/N."

Tensions escalated quickly as insults were thrown back and forth. You could feel the eyes of everyone around you, the entire party was now focused on the showdown. Anxiety coursing through your body, unsure of why Rafe had a sudden interest making his hatred for you a public display.

Rafe's voice grew louder, more aggressive. "You're just a joke, Y/N. You’re pathetic. You don’t belong with us Kooks, and you never will."

Your anger boiled over, you began to raise your voice. "And who are you to decide where I belong? You’re just a spoiled brat who thinks he can control everyone."

Rafe's eyes flashed with anger, and he took a step closer. "You’re going to regret saying that."

Before you could react, Rafe shoved you. The force of his push sent you stumbling backward. The Pogues immediately rushed to your side, while the Kooks moved in to support Rafe. The scene erupted into chaos, with shoving and shouting escalating into a full-blown brawl. 

John B and Topper exchanged punches, while JJ and Pope tried to hold back the other Kooks. Even with the chaos, Rafe's eyes remained locked on yours, his anger still burning. 

You struggled to regain your balance, your head spinning from the mix of alcohol and adrenaline. Kiara was at your side in an instant, helping you to your feet. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

You nodded weakly, brushing off your clothes and fixing your hair. "I think so. I didn’t hit my head or anything. I’m just really drunk." You instantly are brought back to reality realizing there’s still a fight going on, in an attempt to break it up, you make your way to John B. and Rafe.

"Stop it, Rafe!" you shouted, trying to pull him away from the fight. "This isn’t worth it!"

Ignoring you, Rafe lunged at John B again, but you stepped in between them, pushing Rafe back with all your strength. "I said, stop it!"

Sarah appeared behind Topper, her face prominent with both frustration and concern. She darted between the fighters, yelling at Rafe and Topper. "Stop it, you idiots! This is so stupid!"

Sarah was still trying to break up the fight, her voice cutting through the air. "Rafe, Topper, knock it off! You're acting like complete assholes!"

Breathing heavily, Rafe finally relented, his eyes still locked on you. He remained silent putting his hands up. Before turning around and walking away he muttered, “Dirty pogues.” You glared back at him, your chest heaving, at a loss for words.

As the thrill from the fight finally died down, everyone began to disperse, the calming party atmosphere now shattered. You turned away from the bonfire, heading toward the beach to clear your head. JJ tried to stop you from leaving telling you to stay with them, all you could do was shake your head, knowing the complexity of your emotions was too much right now. The cool night air did little to calm your racing heart. You began to feel tears prick in your eyes, the emotions of the recent events starting to overtake you. Your chest tightened as you began to silently cry, tears streaming down your face. The alcohol did little to nothing to suppress the storm. 

You were still wondering about Rafe's sudden outburst of emotion aimed toward you. He’s said many rude comments to you in the past about you hanging with the Pogues, and how it’s like you aren’t a real Kook. But never this confrontational. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the drugs. But his anger was more intense, more personal. The same feeling as earlier began to rise, the one you don’t dare to acknowledge, was there another reason for his sudden interest? 

You walked along the shoreline, the sound of the ocean filling your eyes, the waves crashing against the sand. The consistency of the ocean brings you a brief sense of relief from the chaos you were wrapped up in. Despite the beauty around you, the moonlight reflecting on the water, you felt the rage boil inside you, coming with another wave of tears.

Rafe's actions tonight suggested something more, tonight hinted at a complexity you hadn’t quite considered before. You wiped your tears with your arm, frustration continuing to bubble up within you. 

Why did he care so much about who you spent your time with? Why was he always your prying eyes, always judging? The more you ponder these ideas, the more confused you become. You couldn’t deny a spark you felt when he was close, but even if that was true, it was too deeply buried underneath many layers of anger and resentment. 

As you were still deep in your thoughts, staring out into the ocean, looking for some sort of answer, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. You turned to see Rafe following you, his expression unreadable. "Y/N, wait," he called out, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. 

You crossed your arms, the moonlight glowing over your soft features. Rafe could see your clear hurt expression and tear-stained cheeks. “What could you possibly want Rafe? Haven’t you caused enough trouble tonight” You demanded, despite your voice trembling due to hurt and sorrow

Rafe sighed, looking away, running his hand through his hair, “I don’t know, I don’t know Y/N.” he paused for a second, words hanging heavily between you “Maybe I just… I just wanted to talk”

You scoffed at this almost instantly, and you began to turn around and walk away “You have a weird way of showing it? Insulting me, pushing me, hurting my friends.” you spat back, nothing but bitterness in your voice, unwillingly for him to truly see how deeply his actions hurt you.

But his footsteps continued to follow you, “Please” he pleaded, reaching out to grab your arm gently, causing you to turn around to face him. Your heart skipped a beat despite your anger still present. “Just… give me a chance y/n” 

Your mind raced, surprised by his vulnerability, you paused and looked up into his eyes. In this moment, the resentment you too held for each other seemed to melt away, leaving something raw and unspoken in its place. You hated the way he made you feel so small and judged yet here he was at the same time, his vulnerable voice struck something else in you, making you hesitate. Quickly second guessing if you’d regret giving him a chance to talk to you. Opening the possibility of finding out the motives behind his spite and arrogance. The scene from earlier races across your mind. 

All you could do was mutter softly, “What could you possibly want to talk to me about, Rafe? To hurt me again? To prove that I don’t belong? I thought you made it clear your feelings towards me.” your voice breaking even more with everything word. 

Rafe's grip on your arm tightened slightly, just enough for you not to walk away. He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "Y/N, I know I've been a complete asshole. I know I've hurt you and pushed you away, but... it’s because I didn’t know how else to handle this. Handle us."

"Us?" you echoed, confused and overwhelmed.

"Yes, us," he said, stepping closer. "I can't stop thinking about you. It drives me crazy seeing you with them, with the Pogues. I hate it because I... I care about you." You searched his eyes, looking for a sense of truth behind his words. Could it be that all his hostility was masking something deeper he felt?

His confession left you stunned. You had always thought Rafe hated you. Ever since you knew Sarah, Rafe was only rude to you. Rolling his eyes every time he saw you, purposefully causing hell for you on the golf course, yet being overprotective when it came to you hanging with the pogues. These new emotions were a lot to take in, something you’d never think for Rafe Cameron to admit. 

“Why Rafe?” you spoke, your voice still barely above a whisper, “Why do you care so much about who I’m with?”

He hesitated at this, not sure whether to reveal the truth to his bitterness, “Because… because it’s you y/n” his voice finally breaking at his vulnerability, “Because you’re different. You make me feel things I don’t want to feel. I don’t know how to handle this.” 

Before you could process all of it, still looking wide-eyed at Rafe, he leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss. It was soft at first, hesitant, but then it grew more passionate. A knot in your stomach growing, the sensation of his lips felt like none other. You kissed him back, your heart pounding, swearing you never wanted this moment to end. This new side of Rafe was one you never wanted to end. 

Rafe pulled away abruptly, his eyes wide with regret. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I—" Against your best judgment, you closed the distance again, kissing him more passionately this time. The alcohol must’ve taken over the rational thinking of this situation, the four drinks you had taking its full effect. The moment his lips met yours, a surge of heat spread through your body, making your heart race and your skin tingle. His lips were surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his usual rough demeanor.

His hands gently cupped your face, his touch both tender and possessive, sending shivers down your spine. Every movement of his lips against yours was intoxicating, drowning out the chaos of the party and the world around you. You could taste the remnants of alcohol on his breath, mingling with a hint of something sweet and entirely Rafe.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a mix of emotions – anger, desire, confusion, and an unexpected tenderness. It was as if all the tension, all the animosity between you, had been building up to this moment, where words were no longer necessary. Your mind struggled to keep up with the rush of feelings, but your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, craving more of his touch.

In that kiss, you felt a vulnerability you had never seen in Rafe before. It was raw and unfiltered, a glimpse into the complex layers beneath his tough exterior. The kiss was a silent confession, a bridge between your worlds that had been divided for so long. It was overwhelming, exhilarating, and left you breathless, with your heart pounding and your mind reeling from the sheer intensity of it all.

You both pulled away from the kiss, both breathless, your head swirling with a mix of new emotions. 

Rafe still noticed your still drunken state, leaving you in no condition to stay alone, “Y/n you shouldn’t be alone right now. Do you want a ride? You can stay the night at my house.” 

Despite your best judgment, you found yourself nodding and smiling. “Sure” is all you could muster out. Even if this was just for one night, you didn’t want these feelings to end. The intimate moment between you and Rafe was far from unexpected, and it was probably the alcohol but hell you didn’t want this night to end. You got out your phone and texted Sarah and the Pogues, letting them know you were getting a ride home and not to wait up for you, telling them you just needed some time to clear your head. You felt guilty for lying to your friends but you couldn’t help but wonder what the night held. 

Rafe led you to his truck, and the cold air flushed against your warm skin. Rafe opened the door for you, his touch lingering on your arm, you climbed in, your mind racing. The car ride was silent, but not awkward. You both stole glances at each other, the kiss and the rush of new emotions lingered in the air between you, heavy with unspoken words and possibilities. You couldn’t help but feel torn. On one hand, you saw a side of Rafe that was genuine and sincere, something that made you want to trust him. His body language, the way he carefully watched the road but still glanced at you, and his words from earlier all hinted at a deeper truth.

On the other hand, you couldn’t shake the nagging guilt and doubt. Trusting Rafe felt like betraying the Pogues, your friends who had been there for you through thick and thin. They despised him, and for good reason. His past actions, the way he treated you and others, loomed large in your mind. Was this a mistake? Would you regret this in the morning?

When you arrived at the Cameron residence, you both carefully and silently made your way up to Rafe's room, you were already familiar with the layout of his house due to being here millions of times hanging out with Sarah. Although despite the numerous hangouts, you have never once been into Rafe's room.

When you entered his room, you weren’t surprised by the size but more taken aback by the simplicity yet authenticity of his room. The smell of his cologne filling your nose, being the main aroma of his room. The room was dominated by a king-sized bed, neatly made with dark blue and grey bedding. In one corner stood a large grey sofa, both the bed and the sofa facing a ginormous TV mounted on the wall. His room was so organized, not a spec of clothing on the floor, it seemed like everything had its place. His dresser took you by the most surprise, it wasn’t even the dresser itself but the picture frames scattered on top of it, Rafe looked happy in all of them, yet again a new side of Rafe you haven’t seen.

Pulled out of your thoughts, Rafe comes back from rummaging through his closet and hands you some spare clothes for you to sleep in. You offered him a warm smile in exchange and made your way to the bathroom to change.

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind you, a surge of conflicting emotions hit you like a wave. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your face flushed from both the alcohol and the events of the night. Questions and doubts flooded your mind. What were you doing here? Why had you agreed to stay? The uncertainty was eating at your stomach, making your heart race.

You began to change into the clothes Rafe had given you, the feel of the soft fabric against your skin oddly comforting. As you pulled his t-shirt over your head, engrossed by his scent, intensifying your internal conflict. Why did his presence, his touch, and his kiss stir such strong emotions within you?

The memory of the kiss flashed through your mind. The vulnerability you had seen in Rafe, the raw intensity of the moment, it all felt so real. The feeling you didn’t want to acknowledge came rising back, feeling uneasy about facing these emotions. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You were witnessing a side of Rafe that made you question everything you thought you knew.

Once you emerged for the bathroom noticing Rafe already changed into some grey shorts and an old t-shirt, Rafe looked up and said, “You can have my bed tonight.” His voice was low and tired, “I’ll take the Sofa. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

You hesitated at his words, feeling a mix of uncertainty and trust. Despite everything, despite your best judgment and all the hatred you’ve had towards Rafe for years, it all seemed to fade in that moment, you found yourself shyly saying, “Can you sleep in the bed, please? It’s a big bed, plus it would make me feel safer.”

Partially knowing your need to feel safe was a lie, you felt a deeper pull in your gut—a need for his presence. Rafe paused at your response, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt, “Are you sure y/n?”

You nodded at him reassuring him of your answer. Rafe turned off the lights, only the moon illuminating a path to the bed. Both of you got into the bed, lying down side by side. The silence was thick with unspoken words and new feelings, and the room was charged with the intensity of the night’s events. The bed felt enormous with the space left between you, a sharp contrast from your previous closeness.

Lying there, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, a tangible reminder of how close he was. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to process everything that had happened. You had always seen Rafe as the enemy, the source of your frustrations, but now he was something different, something you couldn't quite define. The kiss tonight felt like it changed everything you thought you knew about him. You saw Rafe with lots of girls at parties but never seen him touch them or kiss them the way he did to you. 

Rafe turned to you, interrupting your thoughts, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt you tonight. I just... I don't know how to deal with these feelings. I’m sorry"

You turned towards him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes despite the darkness. "Rafe, why now? Why tonight?" The alcohol seemed to be fading from your system.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and over his face, clearly still confused with his emotions, "I don't know. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's just everything catching up to me. But when I saw you tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You looked beautiful tonight y/n, I’ve tried to push it away, but I can’t anymore."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his. "Rafe, this is all so confusing. I've always thought you hated me. I’ve been friends with Sarah for so long, and all you ever did was give me death glares"

Rafe shook his head, his hand closing around yours. "I never hated you, Y/N. I was just too scared to admit how I felt. And I didn’t know how to deal with it. The truth is I’ve always liked you. You’re gorgeous y/n, I can never keep my eyes off of you." You could tell this was hard for him to admit, not being of the emotional type, but his confession tugged at your heartstrings. 

The raw honesty in his voice stirred something deep within you. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, capturing his lips in another kiss. He wrapped his hand around your waist pulling you closer. Your hand resting on the back of his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles. This kiss was softer, and more tender, but still charged with the same intensity and emotions as before. 

Rafe pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. "I didn’t mean to complicate things."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It's okay, Rafe. Maybe we both needed this."

Rafe's hands cupped your face, reconnecting your lips with a deeper kiss, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. The kiss was more than just a kiss; it was a confession, a release of everything you both had been holding back. You could feel the desperation in his touch, the way his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer.

"Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. "I need you."

The words sent a chill through you, and you responded with equal intensity. "I need you too, Rafe. I want you” 

He could feel the warmth of your body through his fingertips, a reminder of how vulnerable this moment was. His hands were steady, yet there was a slight tremor, betraying the storm of emotions he was feeling. Rafe slept with women before but it was never a feeling like this, he never felt nervous. 

As he slid your shirt off your shoulders, his eyes never left yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a silent question asking if this was truly okay. When you nodded, the trust in your eyes sent a wave of relief and gratitude through him. His touch grew bolder, his fingers trailing down your sides, savoring the feel of your skin.

When he finally reached the waistband of your pants, Rafe paused, taking a deep breath. This was it—the point of no return. He met your gaze again, searching for any sign of hesitation, but found only the same longing mirrored in your eyes. Slowly, he pulled your pants down, his hands skimming your legs, committing every detail to memory, not knowing if this moment would happen again. Rafe's breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, every inch of you in this intimate moment. 

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity

Rafe's heart raced as he stood back to take in the sight of you, fully exposed and completely trusting. There was a deep sense of awe mixed with desire, It was a connection, a moment of raw honesty between two people who had spent so long hiding their true feelings. He was nervous, not wanting to mess up this chance to show you how he truly felt, and that nervousness translated into gentleness. As he leaned in to kiss you again, his hands exploring your body with newfound confidence, he felt a surge of emotion he couldn't quite put into words—a mix of fear and excitement. 

At that moment, Rafe realized just how much he wanted this, and wanted you, and he vowed to himself that he would make this night unforgettable for both of you.

As Rafe reached for the hem of his shirt, you felt a rush of anticipation mixed with butterflies in your stomach. The reality of the situation hit you all at once, making your heart race, but you’ve never wanted him so badly. When Rafe lifted his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest and muscular arms, you couldn't help but stare. The moonlight filtering through the window highlighted the contours of his body, casting shadows that emphasized his athletic build.

Your hands instinctively reached out to touch him, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. His skin was warm and smooth under your touch, and you could feel the subtle quiver in his body, betraying his nervousness. As you explored his chest with your hands, you were overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. There was a deep, unspoken understanding between you, a silent acknowledgment of the complexity of your relationship. You didn’t know if this feeling would be there tomorrow, both of you silently promising to make the most of tonight. 

Your breath hitched as you moved closer, pressing your body against his. The feel of his skin against yours was intoxicating, heightening your senses and deepening the connection between you. Every kiss and every touch was filled with a newfound intensity, a reflection of the passion and desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

In that moment, you realized just how much you wanted this, wanted him. All the years of misunderstanding seemed to fade away, replaced by a powerful need to be close to him, to understand him in a way you never had before. As you lost yourselves in each other, you felt a sense of completeness, as if this was where you were meant to be all along.

Rafe's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch with a hunger that matched your own. You arched into his touch, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as he found all the right spots. It was overwhelming, the sheer intensity of it all, but you didn’t want it to stop. Rafe broke the kiss and began slowly trailing down your neck, his mouth latching onto your breast, swirling your nipple, flicking and sucking, while his other hand cupped your other breast, kneading and teasing until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

He seemed to know exactly how to drive you wild, alternating between gentle caresses and firm, deliberate touches. His hand slowly trailed down your stomach, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin, before finally slipping between your thighs. You gasped as he found your entrance, his fingers stroking and circling, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Rafe's mouth never left your breast as he continued to pleasure you with his hand, his fingers moving in and out in a rhythm that matched the quickening beat of your heart. He added another finger, stretching and filling you, his thumb expertly finding your most sensitive spot. The combined sensations of his mouth on your breast and his hand between your legs sent you spiraling toward the edge. 

Just as you were about to tip over into bliss, he stopped abruptly, pulling his hand away. A whine escaped your lips, craving his touch once again. As scanned your eyes from approval one last time, he lined himself up with your entrance. With a gentle touch, Rafe guided himself into you, both of you gasping at the sensation. He moved slowly at first, giving you time to adjust, but soon the urgency took over, and his movements became faster, more desperate. The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. 

Pressing his body deeper into yours, you felt instant pleasure. You could see in his eyes that he felt it too—the same overwhelming pleasure, the same intense connection. You swore on your life you never felt something as good as his. Your moans filled the air and he picked up the pace. Rafe has never felt so exposed, yet so open to another person. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to be even an inch away from you. The intensity of it all was almost too much to bear, but you didn’t want it to stop.

You lost track of time, the world outside fading away until there was only the two of you. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, building higher and higher until you felt like you might explode. Rafe's name spilled from your lips, laced with need and desire. You could feel him getting close, his movements becoming more erratic.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both came undone, your bodies trembling with the intensity of your release. The climax washed over you in waves, each more intense than the last, leaving you breathless and completely satisfied. Rafe collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you both tried to catch your breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly, matching the frantic beat of your own heart as you clung to each other.

The silence was filled with a new kind of intimacy, the kind that comes from sharing something profound. As your breathing slowly returned to normal, you became aware of the lingering warmth of his body against yours, and the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It was a moment of pure bliss, that you wished could last forever.

You could feel Rafe's fingers gently stroking your back, his touch tender and reassuring. The connection between you felt stronger than ever, a bond forged not just in passion, but a sense of trust that had developed between you. A feeling you had never experienced before, a sense of completeness that made you never want to leave his side. Your mind couldn’t help but drift to the complexity of your relationship and the uncertainties that the future held. You tried to push the worries to the back of your mind, savoring the moment of how his body felt against yours.

As you drifted off to sleep, Rafe’s arms wrapped around you protectively, you couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for the two of you. You knew that this moment was fleeting, that the reality of your complicated relationship would come crashing back in the morning, but for now, you allowed yourself to savor the feeling of being close to him. You held onto a string of hold that maybe, this could last.

--——----------————- ❥・-------------------------

Please like and repost so I know to post more chapters:)🫶 Thank you for reading!

[reveriebae]

Payback

pairing(s) : seonghwa x reader

word count : 3186

genre : smut

warning(s) : stranger to lovers, fem bodied! reader, mention of Yunho and Jongho, reader's choice of clothes is kinda cunty that caused something, Seonghwa kiss a lot, overstimulate, squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, name calling (baby, pretty baby), cunnilingus, fingering (f receiving), creampie, kinda rough?idk, lmk if I missed anything!

MDNI 21+ ONLY

Hate ice cream? No one could. Love ice cream? Everyone should!. You're at the new ice cream shop that's very popular lately, it's so hard to get the ice cream here cause they runs out really fast, so you decided to come early in a rush.

You busy yourself thinking about what flavor will you choose, the queue is very long in front and behind you even though it's still 9 am, why do people want to consume a sweet cold thing in the morning, and why do I want it too, it's summer anyway no one gives a fuck.

When it's your turn to order the ice cream after standing in line, you smile at the cashier with the name 'Yunho' written in his nametag. "Hi! what can I get for you? " Yunho said with a cute smile on his face.

"Can I have medium size of mint choco with chocolate drizzle on top, please? " Yunho nod and type something on the computer in front of him, "sure, that will be eight dollars. Dine in or take out? " You rummaging your small bag and then realized you fucked up.

"Oh my god, I forgot to bring my purse. I'm sorry, can you keep that-" you feel a tap on your shoulder and look behind, guy with black tshirt, matching denim jacket and pants with a pretty face make your knees tremble "I'll pay for hers" he says to Yunho.

Yunho looks at you waiting for your confirmation but instead you look at the guy behind you "why would you pay my ice cream? " he glance down at you as he pull out his card "you could always pay me back later", you mumble 'thank you' to him as you nod looking at Yunho "Dine in".

You sit on the chair at the corner near the big windows, it's feels pretty comfortable here, a quite nice place to hangout. The place is so clean, the colors match so well, and the dim yellow lights make you want to sip a cup of hot latte with croissant beside it, unfortunately it's an ice cream shop.

The guy who pays for you before catches your attention as he sits in front of you, he greets you and you greet him back, you keep looking at your phone cause this is lowkey awkward cause after the greets neither of you said anything.

"You have not answer my question" you start making conversation, he looks at you while feeling the taste of his cookies and cream ice cream on his tongue.

"About why do I pay for you? Just because" he says as he look back to dig on his ice cream, "because what? " you stop looking at your phone and put it down makes him draw his attention to you "because..maybe we can make a good friend, I love making new friends. I'm Seonghwa anyways" he sticks out his hand to you.

You reach out his hand and you both shaking hands "I'm y/n, it's a quite strange way to make friends by paying a stranger their ice cream, but yeah thank you so much for helping me" he smiles to you, your hand still wrapped around his, more like he's not letting go of your hand. His hands looks really pretty though, slender fingers with a couple of thin rings make it's prettier and you can't help but shiver at the skin contact between you and Seonghwa.

You pull your hand out of Seonghwa's hand, he chuckles "let's follow each other on Instagram" he said as you eye him confused, Seonghwa look at your confusion "so we can keep communicate and maybe hangout sometime?".

You can't think straight. He's a total stranger, and so are you to him. What if he's dangerous for you? Or what if he has bad intention towards you?, but he doesn't seem like that, but you can't guess whats in people's mind but this dude just pay your Ice cream you feel bad if you have to refuse what he asked.

"Sure" you say in a small voice yourself could barely hear, you take your phone back and open your instagram account, show it to the male in front of you, he type on his phone and you got a notification of someone's following your account, "Looks like I have to go now, I'll message you later" he wave and just go before you can say anything, you decided to follow back his instagram account and head home cause you need to get ready to the library.

You're trying so hard to concentrate on your laptop that burn like hell when you touch it because of how long you've been turn it on to complete tomorrow's presentation, you keep glancing at your phone ignoring the books you've borrowed from the library.

"Let's call it a day, I'm gonna make it 100% done tonight. I'll call you later... If I need some help" Jongho says as he stands and take the books from the desk.

"You sure? We can finish it together at my house if you want to" you say, saving the edited document on your laptop then turn it off and close it.

"No no, you already done this more than a half, let me do the rest. I have to go now, see ya" he left you without letting you say anything. You chuckle to yourself "why do people like to leave me alone today".

Right before you stand to take your stuffs, your phone dings and show a notification from Instagram, and yes it's from him. Of course you don't open it right away, you read his message through the notification bar.

You start to reply his message when you just arrived at your house, probably when you just lay on your bed. Which is an hour and a half after the first time he texted you, surprisingly he replies to your messages very quickly like a blink of an eye.

Thank god you live on your own, so your place is always tidy enough to see when there's an unexpected guest coming. You brush your hair, change your blouse to a white oversized tee and put your small purse inside your shorts pocket.

You read some online journals from your laptop in the living room while wait for Seonghwa. It's been 3 hours and you started to get so sleepy from reading a lot of things you don't even like.

"I need ice cream" is all you say make you run to your room and put on a hoodie, when you just step outside of your house right in front of your door, there's a car in front of the gate, it's him.

You just continue, open the gate and walk to his car knocking the window and he opens it, "hey, I'm gonna go to Ice cream shop, I'll return your money now" you said and he chuckles.

"Who wants your money? Just keep it, I got you some snacks and ice cream" you just stand there confused, cause why? why he doesn't want his money back? why he brings you snacks? does he wants to be close with you? if he doesn't, why he's so kind? why are you questioning so many things today? .

--

You and Seonghwa end up eating tons of snacks and talks a lot about random things. He's so humble and make you comfortable enough, he always have a topic to bring up.

You have so much fun until you realized it's almost midnight, now you're the one who bring up more topics cause deep down you don't want him to go home, you don't want him to leave.

The problem is, it's summer night, air conditioner is not air conditionering, the oversized shirt you are wearing is too hot to get comfortable right now, and so does he, he still wears the same clothes as last morning.

When he sees you fanning yourself with the hem of your tshirt he suddenly feel the temperature and just take off his jacket, you can see his neck is covered in sweat and his tshirt shows a wet spot on his chest and his back.

You gulp at the sight of him, he's insanely attractive, rolled up sleeves you can see his toned arms, he definitely sees you staring you can feel he's muffling a smirk on his lips.

"Don't you remember we got ice creams?" He says while you busy trying to get rid of the heat in your body from the temperature and the situation.

"Oh right! You know where the kitchen is, I'm gonna change to a comfier clothes, make sure you knock the door before you get back here" he nods as he walks to your kitchen, leaving your bedroom.

You change to a white tank top and a white thin cardigan to at least make it less revealing, still wear the same high waisted short cause why bother to change when it's already a short.

Seonghwa knock your door and you open it quickly, he smiles at you but you slightly pouting, you thought it was the same ice cream from the shop but it's different, it's not in a cup but in a stick, but it's the same flavor as last morning cause maybe he afraid that you won't like the random flavors he chooses.

"I don't really feel to have mint choco right now, can I have the cookies and cream one? " he looks at you then to the ice cream, and now you understand, he hates mint choco.

"You can take both, I'm not eating chocolate covered toothpaste" he said as you rolled your eyes, "anyway, I saw a big bottle of coke in your refrigerator, can I have that instead? Looks like it will cool down better than ice cream".

You nod to him and he leaves, he's back with the coke and bring 2 glasses with him. The mint choco ice cream is half gone already when he came back to the room, he pour the coke to both glass as he chugged down the whole glass in one sec, he really is thirsty.

Now you open the second ice cream that actually belongs to him, "you really don't mind if I eat this one? " you asked him to make sure if he really doesn't want the ice cream.

"Sure, you can have that" he said, eyes not leaving the tv screen and looks busy with the honey butter flavored potato chips in his hands. So you just eat it.

"Is this your favorite flavor? Or just a random pick? " you asked him makes him look at you.

"My favorite is rainbow sherbet, but I feel like I'm addicted to oreo these days so I always choose that flavor for every dessert for almost a whole month" He said as he bite at the potato chip.

Your lips leave a small scream when you feel the cold on your collarbone, the ice cream melts and leaves a drop on your skin, "even the ice cream melt quickly on how hot it feels right now".

Seonghwa grabs 2 sheets of tissues, "let me clean it up, fortunately it doesn't drop on your white clothes" you nod and he softly clean the melted ice cream from your collarbone, you find you breath hitch when he touch your shoulder, his thumb pressing right below your neck with his left hand.

He leans closer as if he's cleaning a bloody cut, "you should eat it faster or it would be a bigger mess princess" he look up at your eyes, you try to calm down yourself at the nickname but then he says "by the way, you smell so good from here" you just hope he doesn't feel your heartbeat became faster.

"Oh.. Uhm.. Thanks" you look up to the ceiling, not daring to look at his face if he is this close, "I... I think.... What if you help me to eat this? " you say and he leans back after done cleaning your skin.

"Help you to eat the ice cream?" His eyebrow furrowed, you finally can look at him again cause there's a distance now.

You lick the melted ice cream on the stick and your hand, you nod while looking at him and then bite the ice cream, there's just one more bite of the ice cream and you give it to him, but he doesn't take that.

Instead, he leans closer to you and put his lips in yours, you gasp make your mouth open and his tongue suddenly enters your mouth.

You can't help but let out a whimper when you feel Seonghwa's tongue on yours and feeling of cold ice cream swirling inside your mouth, one of your hand grip into his shoulder then he cups your face and pull out from the kiss.

"Wow, didn't know cookies and cream would taste so good like that, could've say the sweetest I've ever had" he take the the ice cream stick from your hand and wink while looking at you, take the last bite of the ice cream and lick the stick clean.

You frown and throw yourself at him, sit on his lap and straddling him, "I think I know how I want you to pay me back now" he gently stroke your hair but then grips it lightly, a moan escape from your lips.

"All I can say is me too" you say with a smirk make Seonghwa grins, your hands slowly make a way to his chest feeling the muscles that covered under his tshirt.

One of his hand hold you hips to help you grind on him and the other hand pull your head closer to his face, he kisses you again but this time it feels more intimate and gets more intense when he bite your lips to enter his tongue inside your mouth.

You can still taste the ice cream on his tongue, you wrapped you hands around his neck, grind into him faster, you can hear the slight moans spills from his lips, the way he breathes faster, sweat began to appear on his forehead and the way he's focusing to kiss you just make you getting wetter.

He pulls out from you lips, kissing your forehead, down to your cheeks, your nose, give a peck to your lips, kiss your jawline while have a grip of your hair, one of his hands travels everywhere on your back then he sucks and nibble around your neck.

You can't keep the moan out of your lips with the feeling of his hardened cock that covered with his jeans, his hands back to your hips and guide you to grind on him harder.

"Fuck, we should get naked like...right now" Seonghwa says as he slide his hands to open your cardigan in one motion and feel the soft skin of your arms, you shiver cause he does it so slow with his breath fanning through your neck.

He slips his hand underneath your tank top, you can't help but grip his hair that unexpectedly makes him gets so aggressive, he lift up your tank top then make you put off your short.

"Pretty baby, should've fuck you since last morning" he make you lay on your back, on the carpet while he keeps rubbing his hard cock to your clothed pussy.

"Seonghwa..kiss me please" you whine with a pouty face, his lips pressing against your in a heated and messy kiss. He carry you in a bridal style then throw you on your bed, you can't help but squeeze your thighs together when he strip himself in front of you.

He surely can see that wet patch in your panties, he slowly crawling towards you and kiss your left cheek while pull you panties to the side and rub your clit slowly.

"Fuck, i know you will be this wet for me baby" he pushes his middle finger into your entrance slowly moving his finger as you gasp giving him a chance to slip his thumb from the other hand to your mouth.

You rolled your tongue on his thumb while looking at his eyes, he's about to burst a nut when he sees you like that "damn y/n, you gotta be the death of me", he slips another finger inside you and make the pace of his fingers faster than you could imagine.

You bite his thumb makes him pull out his thumb from your mouth, you cry while calling his name multiple times as you cum on this fingers. "Fuck Seonghwa, stop it please I can't ah--" he suddenly go down on you without a warning, fingers still inside you as he suck and lick your clit so fast you sure your eyeballs are gone.

You squirt into his face while scream his name out loud, you could hear the way he slurp all your juices and the way he's overstimulating you is too much for you to handle. "Oh, do my baby feel good enough her eyes is rolling back like that. Now, gather all the energy you have left and fucking take everything I'll give you, my pretty baby".

He flips you to all four then rub his cock on your ass "You got a beautiful ass y/n, bet it'll look more pretty with my red hand print on it" he smack your ass so hard as you cry into the mattress. He slowly slips his cock into your pussy, when I say slowly it does mean the 'painfuly slow'.

You look at your back and reach Seonghwa's hand with yours. "Please fuck me Seonghwa, don't be such a tease" with your pleading eyes and your messy hair, you can sense how insane his mind is, right now.

"Pretty baby isn't satisfied enough with her previous release?" He said while stroking your hair gently from your back, then he is gripping it for dear life make you shiver.

And eyes rolled back, of course.

He's slamming his cock inside you, so hard you can't muffle any sound, tears breaming in your eyes, drool pooling in the side of your mouth. His pace is so fast make you grip the sheets tightly, his left hand holds your hip while his right hand still gripping your hair.

You cum about two times and hardly shaking, then it his turn to cum. He shot his hot seed inside you while still pumping it.

"Oh shit, I forgot to pull out" he said when he's back to reality, you look back at him as he pulled out of you. "Don't be worry about it" you said to sure him.

He nods and then go to your bathroom to take a clean towel and warm water then clean you up like a gentlemen he is, isn't he?

You thank him after he helps you wear a clean tee from your wardrobe. He bit hip lips while looking at you, you furrow your eyebrows to him.

"Uhm.. you wanna cuddle?" He asks as you laugh at him.

"Sure Seonghwa".

[jerejerejere]

Ok, I am probably overthinking this but. I am a little bit sad about the hair and style discourse that kind of seems to be raising its head.

Let's start with saying that I get both sides, I really do. What I don't get is why it seems to be such a controversial thing to be talking about one's feelings on this style change on personal blogs and maybe even in the tag.

Of course it's just hair in the end and on paper it's not that big of a deal. But I mean - bands and artists have a style or a certain brand for a reason. And especially with well-established styles you'll always have it that people are very attached to it. Some more some less. I don't think voicing one's disappointment with a style change qualifies as trash-talking an individual or even bullying.

Especially. Given the things that we call Jere on the regular in the tag. I know it's all in the spirit of love but one could take us calling him dumbass and w hore in a bad-faith way and say the same thing about bullying and not respecting boundaries.

Being an enthusiastic fan will get you riled up about things, silly things, that's just how it works. So positive and negative emotions will just be amplified by this passion one has and it's got to go somewhere. And imo unless it's really affecting the artist there should be space to talk about it to others - here - or in other fandom spaces. As much as some want to scream and celebrate how much hotter they find him now, others need their space to mourn and bitch a little bit to process the change. I think we as a fandom can extend each other that kindness and space like we have done before.

I just have the feeling that the more active parts of fandom are already dwindling down a bit, which is normal I guess for a transitional phase while waiting for a new album etc, but I still find it a pity since it is such a cool, friendly, crazy, supportive community. I'd find it a shame if the loss of that spirit through overly heated debate (I exaggerate!) over something like a style change would drive people away because it just doesn't feel fun anymore.

As i said. I'm probably waaayyy overthinking this but it wouldn't leave me alone so i wanted to try and put it into words. (I have a thin skin and i am maybe way out of line here but i don't want my parents to fight ok? 🥲 )

[thisnameisquitequeer]

Been seeing some criticisms of Stolas from the last two eps that I’m just like…did we watch the same show?

Disclaimer before I begin; I think both parties have made mistakes and both need to grow. I am only focusing on Stolas bc people seem to give Blitzø the benefit of the doubt/understand his actions in a way they seem unwilling to do so for Stolas

Going through different opinions I’ve seen:

- “Stolas is abusive bc he forces Blitzø into sex work/he threatens Blitzø’s business to get sex”

I do agree that Stolas creating the Full Moon transaction wasn’t great, and their relationship could never be more than sex until that was dropped. HOWEVER Blitzø is not blameless in that situation. He is the person who snuck into Stolas’ house and seduced him bc he wanted to steal from him. Blitzø’s business is based off of using Stolas’ stolen property. You could argue that it shouldn’t belong to Stolas or that imps are treated so lowly in society Blitzø had no other choice? But asking for the book back isn’t “threatening Blitzø’s business” it’s…getting back what he stole so Stolas can do his job

- “Stolas is abusive bc of the power/class difference in their relationship”

I do think the class difference is something they’ll have to overcome but I would call it a character flaw of Stolas more than abusive. We do see him condescend to Blitzø earlier in their relationship in Lululand and Truthseekers but I’d argue that is more to do with Stolas being incredibly sheltered and too lovesick from his first relationship. I’d argue this is an earlier element of their relationship that there may still be some work left to do but by the breakup I don’t think is there as much. I think Blitzø externalizes a lot of his insecurities onto Stolas’ perception of him, but it’s mostly that a projection

-“Stolas is at fault for the break up bc he wouldn’t hear Blitzø out/bc he projected Blitzø outside his house”

The breakup is both their fault but I don’t think this is really fair. Yes, Stolas was so busy rehearsing his lines that it didn’t occur to him that Blitzø might need a minute to react or might feel like Stolas’ feelings came out of nowhere. But we don’t always react perfectly when we’re upset or hurt. I don’t think Stolas really believed Blitzø would say yes. A part of him probably hoped, really wanted to think Blitzø would but he was probably expecting a rejection. And to not only be rejected but to be mocked with the words you most want to hear after you’ve just been vulnerable…I would probably walk away from that situation too. Did Blitz start to realize at the end that he fucked up and Stolas was serious? Sure, after he screamed a bunch of insults at Stolas and made him cry. We as the audience know Blitzø’s history and saw him change at the last second but Stolas doesn’t and had his back to him so couldn’t see his expression soften. Also Stolas has lived close to 20 years with a wife who always screams and belittles him so I don’t blame him for not wanting to hear Blitzø out after that

-“Blitzø tried to apologize and Stolas wouldn’t hear him out”

Except…no he didn’t? Sure at the very end of Full Moon he attempts a last minute sorry but only after he’s pushed Stolas so far. He could’ve tried to text Stolas an apology or he could’ve tried to apologize when they were by the pool in apology tour but he doesn’t. At that point he’s still just trying to pretend everything is fine between them and get back to sex with Stolas bc he believes that’s the only reason Stolas likes him and if he can only give Stolas a good lay everything will go back to how it was. Blitzø doesn’t want to apologize, he wants to reset the status quo and Stolas won’t let him.

-“Stolas being upset in Apology Tour came out of nowhere/is bad writing bc he only cared about Blitzø for sex before”

I’m sorry…did we watch the same show? Sure, Stolas is a bit horny on main for Blitzø in the first 2 eps but that’s bc this is his first relationship and he’s excited. But as early as the Harvest Moon Festival he’s wanting to spend time with Blitzø and talk to him more. From then on he’s trying very hard to connect with Blitzø and keeps being shut down. If Full Moon had been Blitzø’s first rejection of Stolas you could maaaaybe see Stolas’ reaction as overkill but not with everything we’ve seen of their relationship and is shown in Stolas’ apology song. The only reason you could think Stolas felt nothing for Blitzø is if you took everything Blitzø said at face value and he is shown by Fizz’s reactions and Stolas’ actions to have a skewed perspective

TLDR; Stolas is not blameless but the way some fans maliciously interpret all of his actions just doesn’t square with the text of the show

[restinslices]

Could you possibly do a scenario where the reader goes to Johnny and asks him for romantic advice because she has a crush on Kitana or Mileena? “Man I’m desperate, I had no idea who else to ask.” Type of scenario.

This kinda short. It only has 1101 words and idk if I fully like this but fuck it, we ball. Idk why I’m so bad at fluff😭

Content Warning: Johnny

The word “crush” was typically used by children. Almost everyone has had a crush in their younger years. Someone in their class, or a random person in a hall, or someone in a higher grade level. Even celebrity crushes are usually talked about by younger people. Because of this, people tended to foolishly think that having a crush would no longer be a thing when they got older.

You were one of those people. Unfortunately, you found out that that way of thinking was false.

You hoped it was simply attraction when it came to Kitana, but the more time you spent together, the more you realized it went beyond that. Everything about her was perfect. Her hair, her smile, the way she’d scoff when hearing something stupid, her need to protect her family and defend the innocent. That was just a small list of what made Kitana amazing. 

You groaned and put your head in your hands. You were so pathetically in love with her and had no idea if she’d ever feel the same way about you.

”I’m almost done with the story. Relax” Johnny elbowed your arm and smiled at you. For weeks you debated on whether or not you should ask someone for advice. It couldn’t be Liu Kang, because that felt like asking a parent. Kung Lao and Raiden were busy training new recruits, so you didn’t wanna bother them. Any other allies like Syzoth, Ashrah, Kuai Liang and Tomas were busy with other things. Bi-Han… well… you couldn’t ask him for obvious reasons. You probably wouldn't have even if he hadn’t betrayed everyone. 

That left you with one other option that was in Earthrealm. Johnny Cage.

Pros? Johnny had plenty of experience with romance, so he had to have some sort of advice.

Cons? Johnny is Johnny. Johnny tends to blab about his movies, like he was doing now. To be fair to him though, you hadn’t worked up the courage to admit you wanted his help. It just seemed strange to have to ask for help with a crush as an adult. 

You lifted your head and looked at him. You don't know what he saw on the other side of his shades -or why he was wearing shades indoors- but it must've tipped him off that something was wrong. 

“I have a feeling you're not worried about whether or not the movie had a happy ending”. You rolled your eyes at his joke. You hadn't even been listening the whole time he was talking. 

“Absolutely not”. Johnny leaned back against the couch and sucked his teeth. 

“You sure?”

“Positive” He booed at you, which made you swat his arm. “I got serious shit I need help with”. He looked at you as if saying “go on”. So you did before you'd say nevermind and run out of there. You let it all spill out. How much you liked Kitana, how you had no idea how to make a move on her and other pathetic sounding things that came out before you could stop it. When you finished, Johnny sighed and took off his shades. 

“And of course you came to me for help” he said with pride. “I am a love expert”

“Please!” You scoffed. “I just had no one else to go to. You're a last resort Cage-”. He put his finger against your lips to shush you. 

“Shhh… it's okay. I'd ask myself for advice too if I were you- hey!” he pulled his finger back when you tried to bite him. “No biting the love expert”. 

“Already regretting this” you mumbled. Johnny either didn't hear or didn't care. You had your bets on the latter. 

“So you want Kitana? Now that's a woman! You're gonna have to be real smooth to earn her heart”. Those weren't really helpful words but you kept listening anyway. “Kitana seems like she'd love confidence. You can't be all small and scared. You gotta walk with confidence”. He pulled you up to your feet after he stood up. “Puff your chest out”. 

“What?”. Johnny moved to your side and pushed on your back, making you slightly arch and your chest raise. “This feels ridiculous”. Johnny shook his head. 

“Women love confidence. Kitana loves confidence. This gives the image of confidence. Now walk with confidence”. 

Walk with confidence?

You started to walk how you usually did but Johnny stopped you immediately. “No! Walk with confidence!”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“You gotta walk with long strides but a little slow. Like a model”

“You want me to walk slow?” You looked him up and down with distrust. “Why?”. 

“It'll give her more time to look at you”. You felt stupid, but you did it again and again until Johnny was satisfied. It felt more like bootcamp than love help. 

“Now here comes the confession part. The trick…” you leaned in in anticipation. “Don't”. 

“Wha-”

“No questions without a raised hand”

“I'm gonna raise my hand and beat you with it”

“And I will prosecute you to the highest extent of the law”

“AnD i WiLl-”

“Do you want Kitana or not?”

“Of course I do!”. Johnny put his finger to his lip in a shushing motion. You sucked up your pride and stopped talking. 

“Now, you don't wanna confess. None of that 'oh I love everything about you. I think you're so beautiful and intelligent’ nonsense. You approach her-”. Johnny put back on his shades, put his hands on his hips and got uncomfortably close. “Listen babe, you and I… we could be something. You're diggin’ me and I'm diggin’ you. This Saturday we got a date”. 

“Shouldn't I ask instead of telling her to go on a date with me?”. Johnny shook his head at you. 

“You do that and you don't seem confident! Remember confidence is the key!”. 

This made no sense. So let's recap. Johnny wanted you to puff your chest like a peacock, walk like a model and tell Kitana that you two were going on a date instead of asking? 

Maybe you should've just googled this. 

“Um, okay… great talk Johnny” you patted his shoulder then walked towards the door before he could protest. “Great talk. Brilliant talk. Enjoyed it. I'll remember it!”. You closed the door behind you and sped walked to your car, leaving Johnny alone in his house. 

Once you got in your car, you sighed. Well… that was something that happened. You pulled out your phone and went to the voice notes app. 

“Note to self. Never ever ask Johnny Cage for love advice again”. 

[lovl3igh]

my thoughts on episode 2

1. JACAELA - i love them so so much, i love the way they were talking, some sweet words, memories, but also shared pain, clearly they never talked before about jace's parentage but now it come out nicely and natural, i like when jacaerys sharing his memories about laenor he was all smile, then a bit of seriousness between them when baela asked about harwin... and then they go back to laughing, really nicely done + jace really wants to take actions, doesn't he? i still have hope we'll gonna see some book!jacaerys

2. i like more reaction to b&c than b&c itself, phia delivered once again, chaos at the beggining was amazing, the question is why they gave tgc such cheesy lines, i'm really annoyed with that. poor helaena, i am truly sorry for her (i like the scene when rhaenyra says she wouldn't put that pain on helaena, it almost as if we got my sweet sister part)

3. i like visually the scene when adam saw seasmoke, really painful when you realize laenor is truly dead, the additional but unnoticed blacks' loss, rhaenyra will soon mourn another member of her family and can't even tell anyone cause everyone thinks laenor is long time dead

4. arryk vs erryk - i bet munkun is happy they took his more of his version of the story lmao, I love sir erryk, you are the real one!! didn't expect he's gonna throw himself at his own sword, i thought he's gonna die because of his wounds, his last words were to his queen, he protected her even when he had to become a kinslayer, ahhh we deserve more time with him. rhaenyra guards are stupid af we thought you're inside sir erryk, yeah then perhaps it was not him?? everyone knows they're twins, do your job. and what about mysaria? if she warned erryk how will rhaenyra knows if he's already dead? the guard will tell her? ig that's how mysaria joins tb

5. i liked greens dynamics this episode, they tried to show them too nice as a family in the first one, but we know they're deeply dysfunctional, therefore we have aegon and helaena who don't know how to act near each other after jaehaerys' death, otto ignoring alicent (he really said idgaf about your problems, didn't he?), alicent ignoring crying aegon, aemond confessing to brothel madame instead of being with his family (love how ewan played here, almost felt bad for aemond), otto using jaehaerys' funeral as propaganda against rhaenyra, alicent once again feeling sorry for her father when he doesn't deserve it

6. the last scene with alicole weak af, alicent slapped her son harder than crispin, apparently creators decided to put traumatising scene at the end of every episode

7. did cole just become bigger hypocrite than alicent?? he really was projecting while talking with arryk. dude, let him eat his soup. clearly (alicent? and) cole are to blame here for not stopping b&c, though we could expect that seeing helaena last episode running through empty halls with no guards, now we know that cole should have been on duty that night and put someone outside of helaena's door, the question is if alicent knew he doesn't do that to hide their affair? her question if he told anyone - girl had the flashbacks when he open his big mouth to her about rhaenyra

8. i like the use of book quotes while aegon was firing otto, i was waiting for blood instead of ink ngl, cole again gets promotion after screwing up his job, are we surprised 🙄 aegon finding out viserys didn't want him to rule - he really is delusional, both him and alicent wanted to believe those lies. otto is an idiot thinking he can throw insults at aegon, he already showed he doesn't like being manipulated, his reaction was predictable

9. i'm not sure what to think about daemon this episode, he obviously doesn't care about jaehaerys' murder but also would prefer to hear the news about aemond's death, he is more concerned that rhaenyra is mad about it (well dude as you make your bed...) and that's what i liked but i rather see him being confident in taking responsibility for b&c instead of him trying to show it as an accident

10. i didn't like too much the scene with funeral, only phia was saving it, helaena's reaction to people was amazing

11. i don't like how they suddenly started to call rhaenyra names (before that it was cunt and spider but it wasn't that much), it looks as if it was reaction to b&c, that from greens perspective she deserves that... but remember they're misogynists, all of them were throwing insults at her just because she's a woman, all the bitch, cunt, whore stuff started before b&c

12. little thoughts: daeron the forgotten finally mentioned! the tent boy exists; the dog got the last laugh ig, remember to never kick a dog cause karma is going to get you; i bet viserys is rolling in his grave after years of building his lego set; i like rhaenys saying she'll support rhaenyra; WHERE IS RHAENA

13. acting wise rhys and phia were the best this episode, i'd say emma as well although rhaenyra was a bit frustrating this episode (i'm very conflicted about her behaviour and honestly i don't know what to say about it)

it's all very chaotic here, sorry, my thoughts on episode 1

[effervescentdragon]

I loove in the reflection, WHy did you get bad comments ? Are people mad?

Alright so I've been thinking since last night whether or not to answer this, but I got a comment this morning that cemented the decision for me, because I want to explain what I mean and you asked very nicely.

First of all, thank you for your kind words, im super happy you like my writing! That makes me genuinely happy, because when I write, I write so I can bring at least a piece of joy I feel while writing to the people who are reading my works.

Thats very kind of you to ask about the comments, too, and here we go.

When I said i got bad comments, i did not mean outright hate or "your writing sucks". That is obviously not true and wouldn't impact me, plus, only registered users can comment on my fics and people are much less inclined to be hateful when not on anon. It was comments like these:

These were left on a couple of my wips, and there are more like this but these are the first two i could find. These comments are bad in a sense that they are entitled, demoralising, and prone to make me much less inclined to write anything any time soon.

Writers and authors live on feedback. We feed on it and there is nothing that makes us happier than knowing that people enjoy our work. When the readers tell us this, it genuinely feels like we are on top of the world. A simple heart emoji in the comments is enough to make my day, and not to speak of in-depth analyses that I cherish with my whole being and re-read every time I'm in a slump or need a pick-me-up. All these comments, short and long, are inspiring and make me want to write more. People discussing my fics with me makes me want to write more. Anyone saying "this brought me joy" makes me want to write more and give more joy out in the universe. The loop is neverending.

However, comments like these have the exact opposite effect. I (and other fanfiction writers, but let me talk about me here, and my writer friends may add whatever they want, if they are so inclined) do this for free. I do this in my free time for the sheer joy of sharing a story in my head. I write for myself and for the story I'm telling, but I appreciate knowing that that story brought someone joy, or relief, or a way to put names to the feelings they may be feeling. What I do not appreciate is being made to feel like I am a content producing machine. What I don't appreciate is demands for updates cloaked in seemingly harmless compliments that really aren't that. I "forced you to leave a comment"? What does that mean? "My heart dropped when I saw [this was a wip]"? Why do you project your feelings on me? Why do you think I would be flattered that you left a comment that is, at its basis, just a demand for more content? I am taking these in as good faith as I can, but impact always trumps intent, and the impact of these comments on me personally is "I don't want to write anything in these universes again".

Fic writing is a community. It's a two way relationship between writers and readers, and, like any ecosystem, it thrives on mutual recognition and appreciation. I do not feel appreciated when I get a comment like this. I feel guilty for not writing, which is insane since I am and adult person with a full life who does this for fun and for free. I feel angry, because it makes me feel like I should be putting out 20k works every other day to stay "relevant", and what does that relevance even mean? I've been writing fics for years. AO3 is an archive. It's not an algortihm driven site that favours only new "content". I read fics from 2009 and comment regularly, because that's how an archive and fandom works. It's not tiktok, it's not instagram. So I refuse to bow to the demand of "write something new immediately or basically fuck you". It makes me feel disheartened, because I am a writer, and I hold myself to a certain standard, and a good story takes time.

Now don't get me wrong. For every one of these comments I get at least two lovely ones. And I focus on those because they are the ones that give me inspiration and joy. But I am also human, and sometimes, I am so fucking tired, and I can't just ignore this.

Did you know, well, you didn't, you can't, but I'll tell you anyways. I have been itching to write lately but I never got the time, and so I cleared up my day today to deal with some administrative things I need to do in rl and left the rest of the day free for myself to write? I thought I might finally finish this one chapter of a wip I've been writing on and off. And then I wake up to a comment like the ones above, and guess what? I'm not writing shit :) all my inpiration flew out of the window and burned in the heat of this obscene summer, and that's it. That's what these kinds of comments do. That's why I call them bad. Because they are bad.

I am lucky to have faith in my skills as a writer, so I am not worried about that. I know I am a comparatively good writer, and I personally like the things I write. But I wonder what comments like these do to people who are less certain and more insecure in their writing skills? I wonder how it impacts them? I wonder how many people stopped writing because they couldn't cope with the guilt and the pressure these kinds of comments produce?

So there. That's my answer. And I want it stated clearly that I didn't post these comments to call anyone out personally. I posted them because I needed to show them as examples and to explain and maybe make some people understand what your thoughtlessness and entitlement does. Food for thought, innit?

[moonselune]

hiii it's revivify anon again (can I be 🐶anon?)

ahhhh your takes for the male companions reactions are so real!!

as a galemancer myself, I absolutely see him going the god route to bring them back. he's probably spin it as something like, "it was my ambition to bring you back. Therefore, i am allowed" (honestly, I could see him becoming so much darker if he brings back his fallen love. He'd probably keep them in a gilded cage of sorts. Always saying that he has their best interests at heart, that he's better and more reliable than all other gods. That no one, god or mortal, could love you better than him, so you should worship him just as much as he worships you... man... the potential.)

Thinking about astarion losing his love just hurts because like... they came and healed his heart only to shatter it all over again? If it was BEFORE the cazador fight, I think he'd definitely ascend himself. Why worry about losing your soul when you've already lost your heart? If it was after the cazador fight, I think he'd just kick himself for letting you convince him not to do it, and eventually circle back to the idea that he should've ascended. Maybe then, he could've saved you....

Oh, Wyll.... I get what you mean about not wanting to immediately go down that route of trading his soul to another Patron. I think if Mizora caught wind, she'd absolutely taunt him with it. Always hanging around like a bad smell, dangling the chance to bring his love back as long as he signs away his soul in a Pact eternal with her. I think as long as he had his friends around, he would be able to stand firm and remember that his lover would've shattered at the idea of him sacrificing himself. I'm not sure if I'm misreading his character or not, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't take another lover. He'd probably 1) blame himself for the loss of their life, and 2) think he isn't worthy of love again, and 3) probably love them until he dies tbh. He wouldn't want another lover, because they wouldn't be his lost love :'(

DARK HALSIN!!! Girl... your mind.... you are so onto something. I could totally see him going shadow druid tbh. He'd probably stop and be like, "you know what? Maybe they were right. Maybe I should've embraced the shadows. Maybe I still should..." or like, if people venture far enough into the woods, they might come across a corpse perfectly preserved as if theyre just sleeping, reeking of druidic magic. There's tons of plants surrounding the body. Some consider it a holy site, some consider it cursed. But all agree not to linger too long, lest the beast that guards it finds you...

CW: Dark Content

Of course 🐶 nonnie !

Oh my god yes yes yes yes, I have done a galemancy run and it was one of my favourites. The way this man would be like "I am doing nothing wrong" and there's just a pile of bodies behind him because he keeps messing up this necromancy spell that requires a sacrifice. Oh my lord and when it finally works and you are alive, back and well. He is overjoyed and is like my love! You have returned! Don't look at all the blood and bodies, just come this way my love! No the outside world will harm you, my love, just follow me! Look at this room it has all your favourites! Those windows have never opened my love, here's your favourite tea!

And he is NEVER going to let it go that he brought you back- ever. You are his masterpiece, the fruits of all his labor, the perfect embodiment of his ambition. He is your creator, you, the perfect creation. You belong to him. You will watch him ascend and you will take your place below beside him.

Resisting is pointless, you wouldn't want to go back to that cruel afterlife. Maybe if you are being particularly ungrateful, you would like a taste of what he rescued you from? Sending you into a spiral of nightmares until all you can do is cling to him in fear. He strokes your hair as you cry and murmurs how all he did was save you from this and you want to defy him? Hurt him by saying all those cruel words?

Well shit this is gonna end up as a fic isn't it?

YES, pre cazador, definitely would ascend and I can go see him going after people who look like you but as soon as they do/say something that is out of character for you, he just murders them. Justifying it by saying if you don't get to live, then neither do the poor imitations of you.

If he didn't ascend I reckon he would make a deal for him to get some sort of power, as you said, his heart died with you, what does he need a soul for? And then that takes us back to his ascended behaviour.

Oh baby boy Wyll, I agree, I do not think he would take another lover, but he would move on, I can see him becoming Grand Duke and shaping Baldur's Gate into a City that you would have survived in. He would name so many things after you, you liked books? He would build a library in your name? You always said you wanted kids or a big family, he builds an orphanage for you, telling the children stories of you. I think eventually as Wyll gets older and Mizora still tries to tempt him, he eventually enjoys her presence - as every time she tries to lure him into darkness, he can hear his beloved guiding him back to the light, and that he would never give up. Mizora is like wtaf, fine, you will never see me again, and then she's bored and shows up.

Dark Halsin !!! We love you !! He would have such a guilt complex about the shadow druids, how they were right etc. AND YES OMG you read my mind, parents warn their kids not to play too deep into the forest and for those wayward ones they come back, trembling with fear as they say how the beast roared and swiped its sharp paw at them. (Halsin would scare them away, I can never imagine him being violent with kids). But for those trying to prove their strength and valour by rescuing the beautiful maiden - they are never seen again.

Oooooo I cannot wait to sink my teeth into this!

[ancientschampionau]

RealAgeAU - Reunion

Fun fact. I was planning on going through these drabbles to see where I still had a bit of a blank spot timeline and story wise. and I did NOT get far.

Because I realised. I never made a tiny drabble about how I pictured the guys reuniting to go back to Nightmare!

So. That is this! (also yes i am hinting at bad sans poly but we will see where that all ends)

First and Prev Drabble (with the original prompt by @spotaus ) Next Drabble

*-----------------*

Cross frowns as the knife once again can't cut through the universe.

This... is an issue.

Cross had managed to get close but for some reason the knife could not connect with Nightmare's universe and castle.

Had... had Nightmare banned him?

Cross hopes not. He knows he had been stupid for running away but he had just! He needed! He had just needed a moment for himself!

Cross tries to take a deep breath and relax. It is fine! Think! Think there is probably another reason!

NIghtmare had been shrinking and losing his form... maybe he is just tired and resting and that affects the universe he is in? Maybe?

Cross wishes Dust was here, Dust knows so much more about magic stuff than he does. Sadly Cross was an idiot and just went out on his own without saying goodbye.

He looks at his phone and opens the message screen again. He clicks Dust's contact and considers typing a message.

Just a quick one to ask for help getting back?

He sighs and puts the phone away. No. This is his mess up and he can fix it himself! He didn't need them or Nightmare to fix his messes!

Again...

Cross shakes his skull and looks to the notes in his phone. He finds the right one. It is a small list of items that should help connect him to Nightmare's universe.

When he first started working for Nightmare the god had told him that the castle and the universe it is in can be hard to find or connect to because of his magic. The items would help the magic in his knife, or the teleportation crystals, locate it and focus on it.

Cross pulls out the list and reads it again.

seven candles, unscented

autumn leaves

a very sweet apple

a dreamcatcher

a way to light a magical fire

be in an universe as close as possible

Cross checks his list and bag and groans. He had only managed to get the apple and the leaves so far. this stupid universe only had a few very small and old towns and it is honestly getting on his nerves!

Cross had just been nervous about leaving this universe. He didn't know this one and just because he managed to jump to it didn't mean he would be able to do it again.

The phones had an extra feature to make it known to them if they were near the castle. it had lit up at this spot after quite a few universes that didn't do it.

Meaning he was not leaving it!

Agh. he could ask if Horror is having more luck and-

WAIT!

Cross looks back over his shoulder and sees Horror walk past.

Cross doesnt think and rushes after the large skeleton "Horror! wait up!"

horror blinks and looks over "Oreo?"

Cross pulls a face at the nickname but catches up to him "What are you doing here?"

Horror looks slightly sheepish as he rubs his neck "You know... regret... trying to get back..."

Cross frowns "Get back- wait... did you leave as well?!"

Horror frowns at him "As well?" then his sight finds Cross' bag and cross can see Horror take note of the items in there. Horror looks back at him with a frown "You can't make the jump either?"

Cross feels both better and worse. Maybe he isn't banned! Or at least he isn't alone in being banned! which just makes him feel like a jerk. He nods and groans "not having much luck with getting the things i need. only got the apple and the leaves..."

Horror blinks but gets a small half grin on his face which Cross thinks should be criminal with how goo- OKAY he is stopping that line of thought.

Horror calmly gets his phone and turns it to enable Cross to see the items in his inventory. a lot of foods and- oh! a sweet apple. and unscneted candles!

Horror keeps grinning "Seems like we are getting close."

Cross grins and nods as he walks with the taller skeleton "Any idea why we can't get in?"

Horror shrugs "multiple options. dunno which."

Cross nods as he looks down "Yeah i figured."

They walk and search together before a loud gasp and Cross is suddenly tackled form behind. Cross yelps as he loses his balance. The only reason he doens't fall over is because Hroror manages to catch both him and whichever idiot rushed into him.

"Criss-Cross! H!"

Ah. nevermind. Cross knows that idiot. Cross glares over his shoulder at the grinning Killer "Why would you tackle me?!"

Killer grins but the grin turns sharper then just friendly "Had to make sure you guys didn't up and leave again without a single fucking word Criss-Cross!"

Cross winces and looks to the side "Yeah... I guess..."

Horror looks guilty as well before looking at Killer "Why are you here? instead of at the castle?"

Now it is Killer's turn to look away and he shrugs "After all of you guys left I figured i would try it myself. the whole solo-rouge-vagabond dealio. I didn't like it. So I am going back ot Nightmare and see if he needs a right hand still...." more thoughtful "or maybe babysitter? If that whole shrinking thing kept up."

Yeah and that line causes more guilt than before. because they really just all left Nightmare alone to deal with whatever was affecting him. Instead of at least offering help as they should have as his henchman and teammates. Nope! instead they all just left!

Cross rubs his arm "Yeah... we are on our way back too... You got stuff for the ritual?"

Killer sighs "Only the lighter. But that is because i already had one."

Horror frowns at Killer "All of us? Dust too?"

Killer nods "Just walked away. not a word or grabbed anything as far as i know."

Cross covers his face "We are the worst. terrible people." thankless, untrustworthy, unloyal. Cross can think of quite a few more words to describe them.

"We knew that already."

Cross, and Killer for that matter, curses as he jumps back. Only to see Dust standing by them, hood up but face visible with his bored expression.

Killer is by now standing behind Horror and glares at Dust "Don't do that! My soul is already fragile!" the soul shaped floating soul wiggles but stays steady.

Dust raises a brow and looks unimpressed "Don't talk about others then."

Horror chuckles and smiles "Good to see you dust. join us?"

Dust nods "Can't make the jump. what are we mission still?"

Cross takes out the list and after comparing what they have they realise they are only mission the dremacatcher, which Dust pulls out of his pocket.

Cross gasps "Where did you find that? I checked every store!"

Dust shrugs "stole it."

... right. that is also an option.

They take the items outside of town and get it ready.

The dreamcatcher as base with the candles all around it. The leaves used to wrap the apple, the only use one and Horror eats the others as they work.

Killer holds up the lighter and after focusing for a moment flicks it. instead of the normal yellow flame a bright pink flame appears. Killer lights all the candles adn waits for a moment until the smoke circles one another. Last Killer lights the leaves enclosing the apple without disturbing the smoke trails.

The new smoke trail joins the other seven and the whole pile bursts into flames but no heat comes off it. the flame remains pink for a moment before turning purple and then turning black.

Killer grins and looks at Cross "cut away!"

Cross nods and cuts right above the flame and the universe shimmers. The smoke finds the small slice and fills it, moments later the flame and fire travels up towards the slide using the smoke and it opens a black portal, still smoking.

They rush through it and manage to get through it before the portal burns up.

Cross looks over his shoulder "And there shouldn't be anything left?"

Dsut shrugs "small pile of ash."

Killer grins "it burns up very quickly as soon as a portal is established."

Cross frowns as he looks around. they are in the late autumn forest around the castle. He can see the shadow of it in the distance. He starts walking and the other three join him.

Cross huffs "Still think it is a deceptively easy list..."

Killer shrugs "People don't expect there to be an easy way. Not like they will just test things until they hit jackpot." Then Killer grins wider "Not that anyone knows about Ngihtmare's sweet tooth. and no one knows about the apple, hell we don't even know it."

Cross nods as they walk through the forest. Cross can't help but feel like it feels... empty. Whcih is weird because Cross always knew there was nothing else in this universe or forest but them. but still it feels...different.

Horror seems to notice too as he glances around "feels weird..."

Dust nods immediantly "magic is different."

Cross nods as well "I noticed too..."

Whatever is going on it is big... because either it is affecting the universe, it is affecting nightmare enough that it affects the universe. or Nightmare is affected enough that he made these edits.

Hopefully they can clear all this up once they see Nightmare and apologise to him. The exit the forest and spot the castle in the distance.

Time to go talk wiht him.

*-----------------*

First and Prev Drabble Next Drabble

And as we all know, Nightmare wasn't there. woops. turns out that apology will have to wait a bit Cross.

And the tiniest bit of Bi-panic for Cross (I believe he canonly is Bi in like Xtale so he is still Bi here) ((And yes I am slightly hinting at BSP because I like them but They are kinda too busy to really focus on that in these drabbles but there some interest! but it can also be seen as pureply platonic with just some curious interest honestly *shrug* It is june after all!))

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)