#like don’t get me wrong I do have Concerns about this design and I do think it needs work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eoieopda · 9 months

Text

tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind.

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you.

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright.

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response.

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you.

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you.

You don’t reciprocate.

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope.

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk.

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so.

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw.

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access.

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?”

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat.

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…”

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it.

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound.

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life.

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic.

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.”

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you.

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed.

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist.

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him.

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you.

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before.

Christ.

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you.

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you.

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

1K notes · View notes

bipanicoverthegravessiblings · 3 months

Note

I’ve been following this blog ever since your first headcannons and I’m in love with your writing. I’ve been DYING for someone to request this but nobody has so I will! Could I request a Yandere Andrew with a willing fem reader? She’s just pretty chill and doesn’t mind Andrew’s possessive and yandere nature and is even willing to cut ties with people because she loves him and genuinely sees nothing wrong with it?

P.S I just love the Ashley and Gabriel ship! I think it’s adorable! I love Gabriel’s design and the pairing looks adorable together! I’m always looking on Tumblr multiple times a day to see if you’ve posted something new.

If you accept, please take your time and have fun! Thank you!

Anon- you are so sweet. Thanks dog <3

totallynotcryingtotallynotcrying—

Yandere!Andrew Graves x Willing Fem!Reader

You can’t remember the last time someone cared about you as much as Andrew did

Someone who would do the things he did just to protect you

Really you couldn’t be luckier

Most women would be terrified to see the dark silhouette of their partner standing outside their window late at night

Not you though, you know he was just making sure you were safe.

You waved to him once, and though it was difficult to see- he waved back

It was endearing how much Andrew cared about your safety

It was sweet how much he noticed about you

Small details that would go overlooked, like the shampoo you used- or the way you held yourself while conveying emotions. He noticed.

Andrew loved you. And you loved him.

“I’m just…worried.” Your friend’s voice felt like the vocal equivalent of chewing cardboard. If it wasn’t for the subject right now, you would’ve tuned her out ages ago. But this concerned you and your life, so you listened, “Like- he’s a stalker Y/N! Straight up stalker! What if he like- wears your skin like a jacket or something.”

“Hm.” You shrugged, “I’m sure he’d sew a lovely jacket then.” A small grin formed on the corners of your mouth as your friend gave an annoyed sigh.

“I’m being serious! He’s obsessed with you!”

“Boyfriends are supposed to be obsessed, aren’t they not?”

“No! Like weirdly obsessed!” You could hear the desperation in her voice, “Y/N, you don’t get it. I’ve been- I’ve been getting letters, voicemails, goddamn post it notes on my desk to stay away from you and they’re all from him. He broke into my house!”

Andrew….did all that?

“Oh my god…” you let out.

“Thank you!”

“Oh my god…he- really must not trust you then.”

“WHAT?!” You had to hold the phone away from your ear as your friend yelled into it.

You slowly brought it back to your ear, “Well- yeah? I mean- clearly he doesn’t trust you.”

“Clearly he’s insane!”

Alright- you had enough.

“Look,” you took a breath, trying to remain calm, “If you have a problem with my boyfriend- that’s fine. But I’m not going to sit here and listen to you insult him.”

“I’m not insulting him I’m—“

“Don’t call me again.” You said flatly, and not a second later hung up the phone.

You should feel awful. You should feel apologetic for what you said. You should consider your friend’s words..

But you didn’t.

It wasn’t like how they thought it was.

That friend, and any others who had something to say could fuck themselves over it

It was hard every time you had to do it

But Andrew- bless his soul- always comforted you

Hell, sometimes he even did it for you cause he knew how difficult they could be

He’s so sweet

Still would make them call, but you slowly blocked out the incessant sound of the phone’s ringing

When one of those conversations would bring you down, Andrew would be right there to lift your spirits

Andrew’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs trying to lift the corner of your mouth into a smile. The more he did it, the more it amused you- causing an actual smile to stay.

“There we go.” His head tilted a little as he gave you a small smile of his own, “Much better.”

“You’re a dork.” You buried your face into his chest, sighing happily as the familiar feeling of his hands stroking your hair.

“I’m your dork.” He hummed, “And I like your smile. So you better keep it, or I’ll carve it on to you.”

“Awwww, is that a promise?” You tilted your head up to look into his pale green eyes, your chin rested against his chest.

He nodded, “Mhm! Now C’mere.”

He leaned his head down, kissing you softly. You returned the kiss, reaching your arms up and wrapping them around his neck to hold him there. Not like he’d pull away, but as a measure for yourself more than anything.

For all the “warnings”

All the “concern” people gave your relationship with Andrew Graves

You didn’t care

You loved him

You loved his fucked up ways of affection

His twisted form of love

And he loved you back, tenfold

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #tcoaal #andrew graves x reader #x reader #genuinely this ask warmed my heart #I’m glad people like Gabriel and my dumb shit

250 notes · View notes

formula-nyoom · 8 days

Note

Hello hello hope you are swell 🩵 I see you do platonic drivers 👀👀

Could it be possible to request a platonic! Reader who is a younger sister (that is also a driver, any team) to a driver of your choice who is given either a drink or meal before going on the race and getting a severe allergic reaction. Like rushed to the hospital asap reaction please 🥺

A/N: The only thing I’m allergic to is bullshit(and mosquitoes), so I don’t know what it’s like to have an allergic reaction to food. Hopefully I wrote this ok but do let me know if there are things I need to change. I decided to keep this as a blurb only because it's so similar to the last oneshot I wrote and I went with Oscar for this one

~~~

“Shouldn’t they be back by now with our drink bottles refilled?” Your teammate asked as you looked over some data. The race was set to start in just under an hour and the matter your teammate was more concerned about is the assistant that had gone to refill both your drink bottles rather than look over data with you.

“They only left a minute ago. I know you’re used to everything going fast but they’re not a race car.”

“Well they better be back soon with my energy drink. I have to drink one before every race. Helps with my performance.” Your teammate said. You just rolled your eyes.

The assistant soon came back with both your drink bottles refilled. You thanked them and took it. As you were about to take a swig, your phone vibrated with a text from your brother, Oscar.

Papaya-Bro: Chit chat before the race?

More often than not, you and Oscar would find each other in your respective drivers rooms to talk before the race. It was a small amount of time where the two of you would talk about anything but racing, giving the two of you a sense of peace before you had to face the chaos of Formula One. You sent him a text that you were on your way over and made your way to the McLaren garage. Some of the McLaren workers waved at you as you walked in, having gotten used to you making appearances in the garage to see your brother.

“Mom wants to know what she should cook for dinner when we come back home.” Oscar said, looking down at his phone while sitting in a chair.

“I’ve been craving her meatloaf for the past couple days. Ask her if she'll make that.” You said, taking a sip from your drink bottle. Your face scrunched up in disgust as you tasted something that wasn’t water on your tongue. You ended up swallowing whatever it was you just drank as your first reflex was to gag at the taste of whatever you consumed. It was sour, with a hint of fruitiness.

“What’s wrong?” Oscar asked.

“This isn’t water.” You said, handing him your drink bottle. “Taste this for me.”

You gagged again and then started to cough as Oscar took a swig of the mysterious drink.

“Yea, that’s not water.” He said. “It’s got a–”

“--fruity taste.” You started to cough more violently while trying to gasp for breath. Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself as you struggled to breath.

Oscar didn’t have time to figure out exactly what the drink was. He was able to guess what was in it though as he witnessed you starting to have a severe allergic reaction to whatever the mysterious drink was.

“I need medical assistance!” He called out into the hallway, hoping anyone heard him. Oscar quickly opened the front pocket of his backpack that always carried the spare epipen and grabbed it. By now you had gotten down to the floor, still struggling to breathe. Kneeling down in front of you, Oscar steadied the orange tip over your outer thigh, before having it make contact with the fabric of your race suit. He pushed the auto inject button till he heard the click. He then looked down at his watch to watch the seconds go by.

“One…two…three…”Oscar then removed the epipen and checked to see if it went in. But to his horror, there was no puncture hole from the needle. Of course race suits that were designed to keep a driver safe from getting burned or injured in a crash can prevent a needle from going through the fabric.

“I NEED SERIOUS MEDICAL ASSISTANCE!” Oscar yelled again. This time someone seemed to have heard him as a McLaren worker came in with a medic right behind them.

“She’s having an allergic reaction! The epi pen didn’t puncture through the race suit!”

The medic took out a pair of scissors and an epi pen before they started quickly cutting the pant leg of your race suit and fire proofs. Once the material was cut away enough to reveal the skin of your upper thigh, the medic didn’t hesitate in administering the epipen, which successfully went through this time. Oscar helped steady the pen while the medic put an oxygen mask over your face to help you breathe while the medicine worked its way through your system.

Eventually you were able to breathe again and your throat no longer felt like it was closing up. But you and Oscar both knew that you couldn’t just hop in the car and race. You’d have to be taken to the hospital to make sure whatever allegens you had consumed were fully out of your system. Oscar made sure one of the McLaren personnel went over to your team garage to inform your team that you had an allergic reaction and could no longer race today, before he helped you up off the floor and handed you off to the medical staff.

“Kick their asses for me.” You said to Oscar before leaving, your voice raspy from coughing.

“Will do.” He promised.

~~~

Oscar was a bit rattled throughout the race because of what had taken place just before it. That wasn’t the first time he had to administer an epipen for you, he’s seen you have allergic reactions before. But the fact that it didn’t work the first time is what really freaked him out. But knowing that you were ok and breathing was enough for him to score P3. And the fact that he beat your teammate seemed to make you happy so Oscar took that as a win.

“Because I saved your life today, can you let me freely pass you during the next race and defend me from the people behind?” Oscar asked as he drove you home from the hospital.

“You didn’t save my life. The medical staff did.” You said, playing with the medical band around your wrist.

“I attempted to! If our race suits weren’t made so tough to protect us from crashes, you wouldn’t have needed to be rushed here.”

“That’s kinda a big flaw with the race suits. They can protect us from fiery crashes but prevent someone from administering an epi pen.” You noted.

“I’ll talk with the FIA tomorrow to propose new safety regulations so race suits have to be made so a giant needle can break through the fabric. I’m sure that will go over well with the other drivers.” Oscar joked. Your phone buzzed and you looked down to see a text from yours and Oscar’s manager.

“Mark just texted me. Apparently the energy drinks my teammate has before every race are now banned from the garage. Turns out it’s got lychee in it.” You told your brother.

“Honestly they should have been banned from the start to prevent what happened today.” Oscar said. You nodded in agreement.

“So you’re not going to let me pass during the next race?” Oscar asked. You rolled your eyes.

“Only if you defend me from my teammate if they end up behind you. Which is often.”

#formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x sister!reader #platonic grid x reader

170 notes · View notes

mvltisstuff · 9 months

Note

hii!! i hope your summer has been/was wonderful!!

if it’s possible could you do an evan buckley request to “begin again” by taylor swift?

where reader was in a really rough relationship and now with buck he’s treating her like an actual goddess and she’s constantly questioning to herself how she deserves it and mentioning how weird it is that he actually cares about/loves her.

thank you so so much in advance!! 🫶

begin again - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @meep-meep-richie

a/n: guys i’m SO sorry i have been so slow again w the fics, i’ve just been trying to enjoy summer as much as i can, but i certainly have some coming your way ;)) thank you for the request love, and i hope the rest of your august is lovely <3 i did a bit of a different style with this, hope you enjoy

“can you keep your location on this time?” her boyfriend asks, seeing her getting ready in the mirror.

“i’m just going to work, thomas,” y/n chuckles, thinking it was harmless, but she was his eyes roll almost to the back of his head.

“i’m just asking you one thing, y/n,” he groans.

“i just think you could trust me, i have a long shift today,” she brushes her hair back into an elastic, getting her belongings before grabbing her phone. she always tells herself that she’ll stand up for herself, but she falls into his traps anyway. she presses the small button hesitantly, showing him her location.

“hi, buck!” she greeted, as he walks in the door. he jogs right up to her, kissing the side of her cheek as she giggles into his touch. “i’m going out with some friends tonight, but i’ll be back before you know it so we can spend time together!”

“don’t rush, baby,” he laughs. “take your time with your friends, have a fun night.” he goes to love his stuff onto his counter, but she follows up behind him.

“oh, here, i’ll send you the link to find my friends,” she looks down at her phone, so she doesn’t see the confusion written all over his face.

“the link to what?”

“i’m just gonna send you my location, so you don’t have to ask.”

“honey, i don’t need your location,” he smiles lightly, giving her reassurance and it’s her turn to be confused.

“a-are you sure?” her nose crinkles along with her brows.

“of course, i trust you, always,” he tells her, letting the weight on her shoulders drop. she was hoping he wasn’t mad, but he would never, ever get mad at her for something as silly as that.

“oh!” she says, shocked but still appreciating him. “okay, thank you, i’ll be back in a bit.”

“don’t thank me, just be safe,” he pecks her lips again, watching her skip happily out the door.

y/n looked back in the long mirror again, slipping on a pair of heels to compliment the adorable dress she was wearing. they went along perfectly, and now she finally had an occasion to wear them. she was thrilled to show thomas her outfit, feeling pretty in her own skin and twirling the dress out in the mirror. she turned around, expecting a bright smirk on his face, but she was met with a flat expression.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, concern written in her words.

“nothing,” he grumbles, moving over to adjust his sleeves and grab something from the nightstand.

“no, somethings wrong. i can tell in your voice.”

“y/n, leave it,” he sighs, looking over at y/n who’s still waiting for a response. “are you sure you want to wear that?”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean, its a bit too much, don’t you think?” y/n looked back at the dress, not seeing anything wrong with it. maybe it was the design, her body, but clearly something was wrong with it. maybe she just couldn’t see the way he does. “we’re not going to the club, are we?”

“no, but i wanted to look nice.”

“maybe you should keep looking,” he tried to disguise his heartbreaking words with a light grin, but y/n saw right through it. he loves her, he just wants what’s best for her and she knows he knows best. so, she hung the dress back up and put the heels back in their box. she ran into the bathroom to change again, practicing happy smiles and tried to fight back the stinging tears in her eyes. he doesn’t want her to ruin her makeup.

buck and y/n’s schedules had aligned again, letting her finally be able to meet his real work family. she was so happy she could finally enter this part of his life, and only wanted to support all of his team at the 118.

y/n had been in the bathroom for a while, a little too long for buck to not have any concern. she was examining her outfit, the same dress she wore when thomas told her to take it off. she still felt beautiful in it, but not as much as she did. she never realized how easily someone could take away her confidence. she figured she’d at least leave a pair of new heels out, thinking buck would appreciate the simple sandal.

“y/n?” he knocks, lightly. “you doing alright, honey?”

“yeah!” she answers, suddenly getting that nervous feeling in her stomach. she hesitated on opening the door, but she clicked the lock and pulled it open. she felt more vulnerable than ever standing in front of him. she knew his reaction and that he’d want it off, but she was only met with complete admiration.

“woah,” he exhales, looking at her gorgeous dress and wonderful figure underneath.

“i can change if you don’t want me to wear this, i have a few more options in the bathro-“

“are you kidding? you have to wear this, you look so beautiful in this, y/n!”

“i do?” she asks, looking into his genuine eyes.

“of course you do, what makes you say that?”

“it’s just that, you know, it’s nothing,” she tried to walk back over to the shoe rack, looking for her sandals but his hand stops her.

“hey, talk to me,” buck requests, softly but also wanting her to be able to open up.

“my ex didn’t like this dress, he didn’t think i was good enough for a piece of fabric,” she laughs sarcastically, but buck can tell it hurts her still.

“well, he’s a dumbass, a dumbass who lost you,” he replies. “i’ve never seen someone more gorgeous than you, i don’t care what anyone says. i’ll spend every day proving it to you.”

“how do you do that?”

“do what?”

“just make everything so much better without trying?”

“oh, you know,” buck jokes, putting his arm around her shoulder. “im a natural, that’s all.” she slaps his shoulder, laughing at him before going off to see his family.

y/n stood in the corner of the room in an outfit she never wanted to wear today. she watched everyone converse in a friendly way, only few people stopping by to say hello. even if they did, it lasted a few minutes. she quickly became a decoration to thomas, just being there for silent support before he ditched her for more rich businesspeople. she sipped lightly at her small glass of champagne, wishing she had the whole bottle with her.

he didn’t see any potential in her, not even caring to introduce her until someone asked who she was. she never had felt more out of place, but it became a regular thing. he’d venture off to talk to other people, leaving y/n in the dark. she felt like she was just swept under the rug, something to deal with later.

“bobby, come over here!” buck shouted across the room, waving his hand for bobby to come over. when he did, he had a welcoming smile on his face and shook y/n’s hand. “this is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“it’s nice to finally meet you, y/n,” he says. “we’ve heard a lot about you, like a lot.”

“thank you for having me today,” she replies gracefully, looking at buck who’s glancing back at her with pride in his face.

“it’s our pleasure, really, you’re a delight, y/n.” athena walks in, wrapping her arm around bobby’s waist and offering y/n a drink. buck guides her over to chim and hen who sat together on one of the benches in the grants backyard.

“y/n, this is henrietta, or hen, and then chimney,” buck smiles, his hand still connected with hers and letting her say hello to everyone.

“my real names howard, by the way, not sure if that one bothered to mention that,” chimney pokes fun at buck, who pretends to be offended for a moment but just lets it be.

“i’m glad we can put this lovely face to the name,” hen beams, looking at y/n and feeling the positivity radiating from her. “maybe you can rub off on that one.”

“my names not ‘that one’ by the way, and i’m right here!” buck fake complains, but knowing they all have a good heart. “i’m about to leave and take her with me.”

everyone groans in complaint, making y/n laugh and buck leading her to sit next to everyone. she makes her rounds saying hello to athena’s kids and eddie, everyone finding her to be so graceful. the acceptance from everyone was fully unexpected on y/n’s part, barely being able to comprehend how buck could be so in love with her. she had stepped out for a moment after assisting athena and bobby in the kitchen, buck following right after her.

y/n never got this treatment from thomas, always feeling like she had to beg for it but it was so easy for buck. it made her years of insecurity and questioning vanish, only to be replaced with the security from her loving man.

“you alright?” he asks, meeting her by the steps of the home.

“yeah, i’m perfect!” she tells him. “i just didn’t expect this.”

“they all love you, what’s not to love?” he replies softly, looking her up and down. “you’re smart, you’re the sweetest person i’ve ever met, you’re wonderful in every way, y/n.”

“i remember when thomas took me to work events, and i was just in the corner with a drink. no one really noticed i was there, so it just came as a surprise to see you so affectionate.”

“i’ll always show you off, you’re the best woman i’ve ever met. i want the whole world to know that i managed to get you, and also,” he kisses her lips, bringing her thoughts back down to earth to ease her worries. “i love you, a lot.”

in that moment, y/n knew buck was everything that her ex could never be.

798 notes · View notes

billskeis · 2 months

Note

haii >.<

i wanna start off by saying i love your account smsms !!!

oki so if you could do like bill and the femreader being together for like 3-2 months and she never met the rest of his band, but like today she finally did and she got very close with tom and bill got jealous of it and when they went home it was angrryyyy roughh sexxx!!!😝😝

ᡣ𐭩 bill's gf meets the band (GONE WRONG!)

“do you think they’ll like me??” you ask your boyfriend, nervous, twiddling your thumbs together like an idiot as the two of you wait at the front door of one of his bandmate’s apartment complex.

“of course baby, why wouldn’t they?”

he places a kiss on your cheek, reassuring you.

“i dunno.. intrusive thoughts i guess.”

“nothing to worry about schatzi,”

as the door swings open, you’re met with a man who has long brown hair that reaches shoulder length, he greets the two of you with a welcoming smile.

“hey bill, and hello..”

“y/n,”

“well hello y/n! i’m georg, nice to meet you—now come inside please it’s fucking cold.”

you giggle at georg’s demeanour, what a funny guy you thought. stepping into the small space, you are greeted with two other figures in the living room.

“hey bill! took you long enough.. oh! hi y/n! bill’s told me so much about you, tom.”

“hi—oof! h-hi tom!”

you were met with an immediate pair of arms wrapped around your body as bill’s older brother hugged you. you knew what he looked like in pictures yet it was great to finally see your boyfriend’s family in the flesh.

bill felt himself seethe as he burned gazes into tom’s eyes but all tom did was smirk behind your back as you innocently reciprocate tom’s hug.

as he lets go, a shorter blonde headed boy holds his hand out for you to shake, greeting you with a soft smile.

“hey y/n, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name, i’m gustav.”

“nice to meet you!”

you sit beside tom after shaking hands with gustav and bill shortly follows after you. sandwiched in between the kaulitz twins, georg comes back from the kitchen prior to letting you guys in with shot glasses and a bottle of liquor.

“now, shall we?”

“shit!”

“well y/n, looks like you have to take another shot!” georg exclaimed as he begins to pour the alcoholic drink into your designated shot glass.

“schatzi you don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,”

bill puts a hand on your thigh and squeezes it gently. a concerned look in his eyes as he looks at you and how tipsy you’ve already gotten.

for the past hour you’ve been playing board games and doing mini challenges in-between involving drinking to spice it up a bit.

georg is shirtless, gustav is about to black out from a food coma after eating two whole pizzas to himself, tom is laughing so hard his dreads are about to fall out of his bandana,

bill is completely sober, in case, of course.

“nono! don’t worry billy i can handle it—”

“lemme take a shot with you y/n,” tom cuts in as he slinks his arm around yours that held the full glass ready to take another one down the hatch.

“see! even tom is willing to do it with me! how sweet of you, tom.”

“of course y/n! anything for you ;)”

“3, 2, 1..!”

the two of you count down as your bodies link together to take the vodka shot simultaneously. a burn travelling down your throat as you cough the sharpness of the alcohol away, high-fiving tom as you both put the glasses down.

“we should go out drinking sometime, you really know how to handle your alcohol,” tom winks at you and you can’t help but smile at how easy it is for you to get along with bill’s bandmates after worrying about it for so long.

“i’d love that!!”

you noticed for the rest of the time, bill was quiet. is he upset? was it something you did? he was looking away into the distance of the hallway until you tapped his shoulder, the rest of the bunch already engaged in whatever challenge came next.

“babe? are you okay?”

“i’m fine. just go back to playing the game. ‘kay?”

“oh, okay!”

as you slouch back into the couch being comforted by bill’s smile, you turn to look back at the current shenanigans that has been going on.

bill’s face completely dropped itself as soon as you turned around. he couldn’t show his girlfriend that he was jealous! not even a glimpse or she wouldn’t let him live it down.

that is until, tom stretched to wrap his arm around your shoulder. obviously you thought nothing of it, you were completely innocent, only thinking of it as part of tom’s nice and welcoming personality. it was simply just him being nice!

bill however, saw red.

how could his girlfriend act like nothing tom is doing isn’t flirting and isn’t also to get under bill’s skin?? where does your loyalty with bill lie?? did you secretly get with bill in hopes to get inside his twin brother’s pants.

you needed to learn a lesson.

“bill, it’s your tu—ah!”

“let’s go.” a yank on your wrist as a stern voice commanded the two of you to leave. without even saying a goodbye, you left the room in silence, shuffling to put your shoes on a hurriedly pace as you look at the three with confusion, them looking the same.

the door slam shut as bill made you exit the apartment first, bill glaring at tom before the two of you left the hangout.

“i told you i’d get under his skin, he’s too easy”

“god damnit tom, bill’s such a priss now i owe gustav $5..”

“give me my money, bitch.”

the car ride home was silent, occasionally it was filled with the heaved sigh coming from your boyfriend next to you.

you were ushered into the space of your home, not even making it past the front door bill forces his lips onto yours with no given explanation.

in between gasps, you try your best in asking your boyfriend yet again what’s wrong.

“bill—bill..! pl—hah—please bill, stop!”

he disconnects his lips from yours as a trail of saliva keeps the two of you, somewhat together. pressing his body closer to yours, he leans his head into yours to nibble on the fold of your ear.

“did i do something wrong..? did i upset you? is that why we left so early?”

he grips onto each of your shoulders very tightly, squeezing the muscle to where it might leave a slight mark on you for a night or two.

“y/n, you’ve been very bad. been disloyal, and i don’t appreciate how close you’ve gotten with my brother tonight.”

“but we just—”

“i didn’t say you could talk back, baby. bedroom. now.”

you bite your lip as you anticipate what’s to come for you in the next following minutes.

your heart races and your breath becomes more ragged with each step you take into the hallway now entering your shared bedroom with your boyfriend.

standing at the foot of your bed, bill closes the door and stands in front of you, putting a hand on your shoulder to push you down onto the bed sitting on it, the plush comforter softening the impact of your fall.

“strip.”

you slip the straps of your dress down each shoulder as you begin to drag the fabric from down your torso off your legs. you toss it to god knows where in the room and sit on the bed looking expectingly up at bill.

“completely, y/n, or do i have to do everything for you? hm?”

as you remove the clasps of your bra, you take off the under garment of that with a slight bounce of your breasts.

bill’s breath hitches as he feels his pants becoming extremely more uncomfortable by the passing second.

“god..”

“b-billy..”

“shut up and finish.”

you flinch at the increase of impact in his voice, hands shaking to pick at the lip of your panties, you slide it down your legs.

having to slightly open them for leverage, bill takes a peak in how your cunt glistens from in between. were you turned on by how aggressive he was acting?

you seemed scared, frightened, but your body betrayed you. truly revealing how you felt.

before you even got to discard of your underwear, bill pounces on you, now laying flush to the bed as he groped your chest harshly, pinching each bud within his fingers as he sucked and nipped at your neck.

“h-hey..! ah!”

“nuh uh, no talking. i’ve let you have too much fun tonight. now’s my turn.”

unlatching from your neck, he fiddles with the zipper of his pants to which he seems to struggle with. shortly following he managed to get it undone and relieved himself of the pressure brought onto his extremely tight choice of clothing.

with a spring, his dick hit his abdomen, almost reaching his belly button. you swallow a lump down your throat almost forgetting how big bill was.

as bill lowered himself, he uses his hand to slap his dick onto your cunt, rubbing his tip in circles on your clit causing you to whine.

“so needy..”

a swift motion leads bill to thrust himself into you, unable to comprehend when he even aligned himself to your entrance and without warning.

he pistons his hips inside and out of your pussy without fail. where did he get all this energy from?

propping yourself onto your elbows for leverage, bill loves watching you struggle to take him as he fucks himself into you, cunt soon becoming sloppy as tears well up in your eyes.

“nngh.. fuck..”

“whores don’t get to speak.”

stomach concave as bill presses his hand onto your lower abdomen, as he uses his opposite hand to cover your mouth, bodies now totally connected as he uses your own body to hold himself up as he never stills his thrusts.

you cannot help but moan under his hands, a possible formation of condensation or drool coming from your mouth. either way, the palm of bill’s hand wet from the occasional heated gasps and winces escaping your mouth.

“mmf..hmmmph..”

“that’s right, just take it, take it like a good girl ja? the least you can do f’me right y/n..?”

with every graze and bump bill’s tip hitting your sweet spot so good, walls clenching around him bill cannot help but let out a wanton moan.

“ugh, you tighten around me so well.. takin’ it like a real champ, too bad you’ve done wrong by me y/n,”

“go—ahhh—gonna cum, bill..”

“hold it. fucking hold it in y/n.”

the pressure becomes unbearable as bill doesn’t stop his hips. a hold on you so tight, he uses both his arms to engulf your head to make it easier as he fucks you ruthless and dirty.

eliciting noise out of him, bill cannot help moan like a bitch in heat seeming to feel better than you are. clearly, with having to hold your orgasm in.

you are being used, and it’s all your fault.

“f-fuck! coming, i’m gonna—”

bill doesn’t even get to finish his sentence as cum paints the insides of your walls. fucking his seed into you, bill’s tip hits the entrance of your cervix leaving you to squeal and come all around his cock, a ring of cream left on his length as your bodies bind together.

riding out the high, the two of you breath deeply onto one another as you attempt to catch a breath. bill slides his length out of you, leaving you to whimper at the feeling of emptiness as he plops his body next to you.

looking at your boyfriend, his cheeks are flushed and his mouth agape to take in more air he lost during fucking you.

furrowing your eyebrows, all bill can do is smile sheeply at you as if he didn’t just fuck the shit out of you because he was jealous of his twin brother.

leaning in to place a kiss on your cheek, he still lay beside you as you scoff at how he can change his emotions so easily.

“now, d’ya mind telling me what that was all about bill?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

a/n : i can’t lie i might stop writing fics, for like, ever LOL.. we will see i have some reqs in my inbox 🤓

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #2000s #fyp #billskeis

199 notes · View notes

hellodarling1357 · 3 months

Text

Inked - Cassian x Reader (Drabble)

Here’s a little drabble that came to mind when I was waiting for the kettle to boil, thought it was cute so thought I would share 🥰

A/N: low key based off a similar conversation I had with a guy I used to date. He didn’t believe my little fine line tattoo was a real tattoo :( Cassian is a lot nicer in this than he was about it…

A/N 2: not edited in the slightest, I’ve got my cup of tea to drink then off to sleep xo

Just picturing Cassian and reader who have just started dating. Things are getting a little heated and Cassian’s shirt very quickly ends up discarded on the floor.

Reader is just in awe, unabashedly drinking in his toned body, leaving Cassian feeling very smug (and obvs flexing for her) as she trails kisses along his tattoos.

“You like them?”

“I do. I didn’t realise how many you had.”

Your fingers continue to trace along the inked patterns as he pulls you mouth up to meet his again.

“What about you, sweetheart? Got any tattoos hidden away on that gorgeous body of yours?” He would rasp the question against your lips, along your jaw, your throat.

Too caught up in the feel of him trailing his lips and tongue and teeth against your skin, all you can offer is a breathy “mhm.”

“Oh, do you? I’m not sure if I believe you” He honestly didn’t think you were the sort of person to have a tattoo, but he also wouldn’t be paying too much attention to the conversation at hand as you straddle his hips and ground down against him.

You then leave him hanging as you pull back, brows furrowed, “what do you mean you don’t believe me? I have a tattoo.”

“I’m yet to see it,” Cassian leans back, cocky grin spreading across his face at your indignation. “Maybe it’s hidden somewhere under all this clothing.”

The conversation is fast becoming your least important concern as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer to him, reaching up to capture your lips against his.

*****

Once your breathing starts to even out and your post-orgasm befuddled mess of a mind clears, you’re quick to remember Cassian’s earlier words about not believing you had a tattoo.

“Look!” You excitedly yell, kicking your leg out so he can get a clear view.

“What am I looking at?” He asks, a blissed out expression on his face as he curls closer into your side.

“This. Look.” Again you wave your ankle at him, pushing him up so that you can force him to pay attention while you prove him wrong. “You said you didn’t believe I had a tattoo, well, look at it.”

A look of complete adoration takes over Cassian’s features as he gently holds your ankle and traces the small flower trailing up your ankle.

You give him a satisfied, I-told-you-so smile as you lean back against the pillows, content in the feel of Cassian’s fingers tracing along the dark ink.

“Well it’s not the sort of tattoo I had in mind,” another flex of his muscles to highlight the intricate design he had spread across his body, “but it’s perfect. You’re perfect.” He presses a trail of kisses to your ankle, leading up your leg before you pull him back up and wrap yourself around him.

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x y/n #cassian hcs #cassian fluff #cassian x you #cassian imagine #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar

173 notes · View notes

drewsbuzzcut · 3 months

Text

Right Where You Left Me

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: angst, self inflicted doubts, slight jealousy, lack of communication, age gaps, break ups, alcohol consumption, and I think that’s all

this takes place when they were just dating

You sit in your bedroom, trying to stop your tears from falling as you look out your window. It’s to no avail.

How could a perfect night end up so terribly wrong? You were meant to celebrate your latest magazine cover with Mat in attendance. Now you’re crying your eyes out, wishing you never invited him along.

The night started off great. You and Mat walked around, socializing with everyone there. You both had a couple drinks and Mat quite literally never left your side. He was proud of you and wanted to see how appreciated you are. You’re the one who left his side. Never in your life have you been the jealous type, but when you walked back to Mat after getting you and him drinks from the bar, you weren’t expecting to see him so enthusiastically talking to another woman. His smile is wide to the point you can see his dimples. His body language is relaxed and her’s is laced with interest. Why wouldn’t she be?

You linger back, halting your steps in favor of letting the crowd drown you out from where you’re witnessing Mat and the woman’s conversation. Deciding to avoid them, you turn and find someone to talk to. Your conversation is only a distraction especially when you can hear the distinct sound of your boyfriend’s laughter. You peek over your shoulder only to regret it the second you catch a glance at the woman he’s talking to. She’s a woman. In every sense. Her makeup is so elegant and light. Her hair is perfectly curled and pinned, and her outfit looks like it was designed just for her. She’s everything you’re insecure about- especially in regard to your relationship and age gap with Mat.

You bite the bullet and excuse yourself from who you were talking to, making your way to the person you wish you didn’t want to avoid.

“Hi,” you mumble and mentally slap yourself for coming off as shy or intimidated.

“Y/n! Hi, honey. Your cover is fantastic! For a young model you sure do have an amazing resume,” she compliments you, her words have a way of punching your gut.

“Thank you! That means a lot,” you try to fake a smile and she buys it, but you can see Mat look at you from the corner of your eye.

“I am so sorry. Where are my manners? This is Mathew Barzal, he’s a hockey player. I don’t know how he ended up at an event like this, but we were just talking about hockey. As an older Canadian who grew up around hockey, I was attempting to school him. I wanted to see if he knew his own game as well as I do,” the woman says, cocking her head to the side in utter confidence.

You knew she was older.

You give her another faint smile before responding.

“He’s a great hockey player. Mat’s my boyfriend,” you state and watch as realization crosses her facial features.

“My goodness, sorry. He didn’t mention he was here with his girlfriend, but I guess it never really came up. Wow! How did a man like you end up with a girl like Y/n? I would’ve expected you to be with someone around your age and not as busy,” she has the audacity to say to your face.

“I can keep up with him just fine, thanks for your concern,” you bite, smiling sarcastically.

“She’s the best girlfriend,” Mat finally decided to contribute to the conversation. He throws an arm over your shoulders, but you quickly remove yourself after bidding a quick goodbye to the woman whose name you’re glad you didn’t learn.

You never wanted to see her again.

“Are you okay?” Mat asks, catching up to you and resting a hand on your arm.

“I’m fine,” you say stoically.

“No you’re not,” he points out.

“Then why’d you ask?” You snap, still facing away from him.

“What the hell is going on?” He grabs your shoulders and turns you towards him.

“What the hell is going on with you and that lady?” You question.

Mat looks confused because why are you angry about him talking to someone else. Mat looks confused because why are you tearing up and not making eye contact with him?

“What are you talking about?” He tries to reach for your hands, but you pull them away from him before he can touch you.

“Stop doing that,” he whispers.

His veins on his neck are already starting to pop out and his face is getting flushed. He’s having a hard time being patient with you.

“Can you take me home?” You ask silently.

“Can you answer my question?”

“No, because if I do, we’re just going to fight,” you answer.

“Why would you, answering my question, make us fight? If anything, you not answering my question and ignoring me is what’s pissing me off,” he claims, a warning in his tone.

You drag your fingers through your hair and turn away from him again. You can feel your chest heave even though you’re trying to hide it. You face him again, your teary eyes flashing up at him. The crinkle in between your eyebrows gets Mat to close the distance and smooth out the skin with his thumb. You hold onto his wrist and push his hand away.

“You looked like you were really enjoying your conversation with her. Like I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so animated, not even with me,” you whisper and shut your eyes.

Mat’s eyebrows turn down in a frown and his lips form into a semi-frown.

“That can’t be true, and we were just talking about hockey. You know I love hockey,” he says.

“You never talk with me about hockey, besides game details. I know you know that hockey isn’t my favorite, but when it comes to you I’d talk about anything.”

“I don’t mean to not talk about hockey with you. I can change that, though, easily,” he tries to calm your worries, but you can’t stop the thoughts in your head.

“The thing is that you can find it so easy to talk to another woman about something that you find hard to talk about with me,” you counter. Your face pinches up in discomfort.

“You can’t place all of that blame on me,” he responds.

“I’m not trying to blame just you. She just seemed really interested in you and what she said was bitchy. She made it seem like you both were flirting,” you stress.

“That wasn’t my case. I was just talking to her about hockey,” Mat defends himself. You believe him but those damn thoughts in your head can’t be silenced.

“I just can’t get over the vibe I got from the way you looked so cozy.”

“I don’t know what to tell you to make you believe me. I’m telling the truth that nothing was or is going on with that woman. It was just a conversation. I don’t know how to get through to you,” he says through clenched teeth.

You grab onto his hand for the first time since you started this conversation. You squeeze them gently before looking into Mat’s eyes.

“That’s my fault. I just- I thought maybe you didn’t know how to handle me, but maybe I don’t know how to handle you. You and all that you come with. Maybe you should be with someone older and not some little girl who doesn’t know what she’s dealing with,” you admit through soft cracks of your voice.

Mat wipes away your tears, looking down at you with a saddened expression.

“No. No, please don’t do this. You are perfect for me. I don’t want a girlfriend if it’s not you, you know me,” he argues, shaking his head repeatedly and continuously wiping away your tears.

“We’re at different stages in life. You need someone older. Someone who isn’t me! I’m not right for you and clearly that’s noticeable to everyone except us,” you explain, flitting your eyes up to his only to regret it once you see nothing but pain in them.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you giving up on us? You’re the love of my life, that much I’m sure of. It’s only 5 years. We’re both adults,” he states, holding onto your face even though it’s no use.

“Can you please just take me home?”

Mat doesn’t say anything. He bitterly nods his head and moves away from you, begrudgingly walking to his car.

The car ride is quiet and tense. The air condition isn’t enough to drown out the silence or your sniffles. Each time Mat hears you, he flinches and recoils his hands before he can fully reach out to touch you.

When he parks outside of your apartment, he hastily gets out to open your door for you. Your heart twists in an ache that seems like it’ll be a permanent visitor. You’re going to miss him so much.

“I can get up by myself,” you mutter when you realize he’s following you inside.

“Please, Y/n. I love you,” he pulls you back by your hand, a hand going to your waist because he physically can’t let go of you.

“And I love you. That’s why we can’t be together. You deserve someone better,” you stress.

“You don’t get it. There is no one better. There is just you. You, Y/n L/n, the love of my life. What do I need to do to make you believe that? What have I done to make you doubt me?”

“Nothing. Follow me or don’t follow me up, but we’re done, okay?” You pull out of his grasp, hoping and begging that he doesn’t follow you.

When you get to your door, your shaking hands fumble the keys and struggle to unlock your door. You can feel his presence behind you and it makes you feel worse. You rip the door open, hoping that behind it there’s fresh air. You turn to close it, rapidly blinking your tears away as you stare into Mat’s eyes. You see his red rimmed eyes and the defeated gaze in his face, but you don’t have it in yourself to say anything. You close the door in his face and wait a few minutes for him to leave so you can break down completely. You had no idea that he spent the entire night outside your front door, hearing you sob and fighting with himself to find a way to comfort you.

a/n: Enjoy some Mat and model!reader angst!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

188 notes · View notes

deep-sea-scholar · 1 year

Text

Okay I need to rant about Glass Onion for several paragraphs

WARNING: SPOILERS!

Glass onion is phenomenal, and I personally enjoyed its themes more than the first Knives Out movie.

Now don’t get me wrong, Knives Out is arguably the better film, but its strengths lie in the complexity and brilliant execution of its core mystery. It’s a fantastic self-contained story about a shitty rich family and the people they directly affect. The members of the family range across the political spectrum and all express different ideologies, but the moment a migrant working-class woman has a legitimized shot at their inheritance they band together to prevent her from improving her life. It's interesting commentary on how wealthy people can talk a big game about helping others and being good people, but ultimately fall morally short when such actions threaten what they feel they “rightfully deserve.” But that's arguably the limitation of the film as its focus is entirely on the interpersonal conflict between the Thrombey family and Marta.

Glass onion isn’t limited by that.

The entire thematic core of Glass Onion concerns the damage that the rich and powerful can do to the world if they aren’t supervised, criticized, or limited.

Aside from our lovely detective Benoit Blanc, the murdered Andi Brand, and her twin sister Helen, all of the characters are shitty people that are damaging the world in a uniquely horrible way as a direct consequence of the unchecked power and wealth they wield.

To start we have Governor Claire Dubella. Her success in her political career has relied almost entirely on monetary support and influence from the films big bad and Elon Musk/Jeff Bezos analogue Miles Bron. Her platform has good objectives, and she’s passionate about hard topics like climate change, but her ability to act is entirely limited by the influence Miles has on her. If Miles wants her to do something, she feels like she has no choice but to, which results in her greenlighting an experimental powerplant that Miles wants built to advocate for his new fuel source. It’s untested technology, it’s volatile and dangerous as fuck, and Claire feels like she has no choice but to go along with it because if she doesn’t Miles will withdraw support from her career, or worse, support her opponents. She likens it to selling her soul, and it really is. She willingly undermined the health of her constituents for the sake of saving her career, and the shitty part is that Miles only controls her because she lets him. She could deny the power plant, or leave Miles, at any time, but she doesn’t because she perceives the personal risk as to great. She is a politician that won’t stand up for the people she represents, and no one calls her out on it.

Next, we have Duke Cody, the Alpha male men’s rights streamer who is just like, the absolute worst person in this film. His views and opinions are incredibly toxic, his actions and beliefs directly hurt the people he influences through the hurtful products he promotes, and thanks to Mile's wealth and influence both he and his terrible, terrible, terrible opinions have official backing and some form of legitimacy. He’s almost the direct inverse of Claire, being someone who really shouldn’t have support, but is getting it anyway because he’s Mile’s friend. And because Miles doesn’t care and is giving Duke support and helping him dodge legal trouble, he enables Dukes terrible opinions and lets them influence and hurt people.

Then we have Birdie, my personal favorite of the disruptors. She is a fashion designer, media star, and breathtakingly, beautifully, stupid. She’s not actively malicious like some of the other characters, but she is just so fundamentally incapable of thinking things through. When paired with her wealth and influence, this results in horrifying real-world consequences. She has her iconic fashion line of sweatpants made at the most infamous sweatshop in Bangladesh not because she doesn’t care, but because she thought a sweatshop is just a shop where you make sweatpants. She’s just very stupid, but at the very least has the decency to be aware of it. She even decides to own up to her Bangladesh mistake of her own volition, independent of the plot. The problem is that no one corrected for her, or guided her, or worked to influence her decisions. Miles just cared about what her brands could do for him and was perfectly willing to throw her under the bus to preserve his image.

Last of the four Disruptors is Lionel Toussaint. Not much to say about him actually, he’s fairly straightforward. He works directly under Miles as a scientist and is a parallel for the people that want to have confidence in tech ‘pioneers’ like Elon Musk. After all they’ve been successful, and things have worked out in the past, surely, we can give them leeway with new technology development. But there’s a reason why technology is prototyped and tested, and that’s because things always go wrong, and you need to take time and care to figure out how to ensure new technology is safe.

Which leads us to this asshole.

Miles goddamn Mona Lisa Burning Bron.

The absolute, motherfucking, shithead moron directly responsible for everything bad that happens in this film.

I lied about Duke Cody because this absolute buffoon is the actually the worst person in this film.

He manipulates politicians into endangering their constituents for his own gain, he enables the absolute worst and most toxic people by giving them legitimate platforms, he promotes influencers without caring for what their unchecked actions result in, and he deludes the people that work for him and want to believe in him with self-assured delusion. This man is arrogant, an indiscribable moron (worse than Birdie because at least she acknowledges her failings), dangerously delusional, obsessed with control, and most damning of all, unchecked.

Miles Bron is a direct look at how too much unchecked power, wealth, and influence results in unmitigated disasters. He doesn’t care about helping people, because he doesn’t take the time to make sure untested technology is safe for the public, handwaving legitimate concerns with denial and false assurance. He doesn’t care about his friends, because he murders two of them the instant, they become a threat to his control. He’s not smart, because all of his genius is the result of other people, he’s just skilled at advertising it as his own to get the credit. All he cares about is doing what he wants and being in control, because his opinion and self-worth and legacy is more precious to him than any other thing in the world. The man is a lie so absolute, so convoluted, and so stupidly straightforward that the slightest piece of truth will bring the facade of his existence crumbling down. And it’s hard to acknowledge something like that in the real world because someone that successful being that malicious and dumb sounds incredibly stupid. It’s an easy lie to buy because it’s more believable than how stupid the truth is.

Anyway, ultimately my conclusion is that we see a strikingly accurate portrayal of Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk in this film, and it was very cathartic seeing their hopes, ambitions, and house burn down around them. Because billionaires like them are shithead morons that lie to and manipulate everyone, and their arrogant and harmful self-delusions compound through the people they manage to influence.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

#knives out #glass onion #benoit blanc #film #mystery film #movie review #elon musk #jeff bezos #Need a hard kick in the nuts #literary analysis #movies #netflix #eat the fucking rich #can't believe a murder mystery radicalized me #rambling

1K notes · View notes

snakeautistic · 4 months

Text

Some of the most common advice you get when you express social anxiety is the following “don’t worry- no one will notice if you make a mistake (or they’ll forget it soon after) everyone is more focused on themselves.”

And this makes me so. Fucking. Annoyed. It is true that people probably won’t think much of/ forget a lone social faux pas made or awkward thing you did. But what they remember is patterns of behavior. So if you’re like me, unable to pick up on many social cues and prone to these same mistakes- people will make note of that. They will have an idea of you in their head as someone who is awkward, as simple as that.

Secondly the part about everyone being more focused on themselves. Obviously people can be pretty self-centered- I think that’s normal. And they’re probably insecure too. But we’re also social animals with social hierarchies. People pay attention to the behavior of those around them- maybe ESPECIALLY if they’re insecure, in fact. In order to see where they stand- whether they’re doing it, and whether the people around them are behaving correctly. Many of our societal norms and expectations are designed as a way to weed out people who either are unable to or choose not to follow them.

That’s not to say we don’t often distort the percieved perseptions of others. With an anxiety disorder, fear over been seen as ‘weird’ may lead to you behaving more abnormally than you would have initially. It might lead to you reading too much into the reactions of others. This is all very common and is of course the issue the above advice seeks to address- distortions of how your actions reflect on you socially. But that doesn’t change the fact that the advice that “no one cares what you do actually” is just… wrong, or highly flawed at the very least.

I personally have a very hard time benefiting from advice that I know isn’t entirely true. It’s also super dismissive of people who may actually be struggling socially- perhaps due to an underlying issue- (in my case, autism), if any time they notice “hey, I think I’m being judged” it’s chocked up to pure anxiety. Also, I feel firmly that it’s better to learn to be less bothered by negative perceptions than to believe they don’t exist at all. That way you don’t have to worry so much if you’re overthinking it or not- you just know not to be concerned in the first place. Obviously that is… much easier said than done. But I think it’s a better goal to have

#social anxiety #socializing #SAD #social anxiety disorder #anxiety #anxiety disorder #autism #actually autistic #autistic rant #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #autistic #neurodivergence #mental health #mental illness #social cues

185 notes · View notes

itsrheasgirl · 7 months

Text

ONLY YOURS

VAMPIRE!RHEA X READER

ᴡᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ - ᴘᴏᴇᴛʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜱᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇʟɪꜱꜱᴀ ᴄᴏᴍʙꜱ (ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ)

WORD COUNT: 11,042

SUMMARY: IT HAD BEEN DAYS SINCE RHEA HAD BEEN ABLE TO FEED. LUCKY FOR HER YOUR NIGHT OUT WITH YOUR SORORITY SISTERS WAS ABOUT TO BE THE ANSWER TO HER PROBLEM.

TW: Choking, Fingering, Rough Sex, Biting, Marking, Blood Consumption.

A new nightclub. With its dim lighting, dark corners and smoky atmosphere; it was easy to lurk unnoticed when needed. The perfect place to hide in the shadows and not have to acknowledge the people around you. But that wasn’t always the case; as Rhea was about to find out.

Callus fingers gripped tightly around the crystal that housed rich amber liquid as Rhea’s sapphire gaze scanned the vicinity of her table, her spine pressing firmly into the cushion of her booth as she exhaled a disgruntled sign from her nostrils. It had been days since she had fed, she hadn’t had a moment alone since getting on the plane to work a few days prior and things were getting desperate. The ache in her gums had become excruciating and she wasn’t entirely sure how she was keeping it together.

The bar was packed to the nines with belligerent men who’s only goal was to fuck anything that moved, the occasional sober loser who’d lost a bet and been deemed the designated driver and a hand full of bachelorette parties filled with overly drunk females just looking for an excuse to make out with a stranger. It wasn’t like she was short for something to snack on, but her shimmering hues traveled the entire perimeter of the bar and she saw nothing but a mass of unappetizing obstacles that stood in her way of feeding on what she truly desired.

You didn’t like going out in public; in fact you would much rather be at home with a book and a large glass of red wine than crammed into a tiny nightclub with a ocean of complete strangers and yet here you were. Standing in the smoke pit of the only decent place to drink in town as your best friend Hanna puffed grey smoke from her lips like a chimney.

“Look either you stop acting like I ruined your night, or you don’t, but either way we are getting shit faced. Got it? You owe me.”

Inhaling another long pull from the white stick perched within her fingers till her lungs were full, you waited patiently for the recoil of smoke to cloud the sky before you and for her to speak again. She wasn’t wrong, you did owe her but you didn’t ever expect her to cash in on it.

“I made out with half the girl’s in the sorority to get you in, so suck it up and show them that your were fucking worth it.”

An impish cackle parted Hanna lip’s as slender fingers moved forward to offer the cigarette in your direction, her perfectly manicured brows arch skyward as she gives you a swift up and down. You didn’t want to change yourself to fit in at school, but she was unfortunately right. If you wanted to fit in, you had to follow the rules.

Swallowing a small pool of saliva that had pooled on your tongue, you reach out and generously accept the cigarette into your own grasp. Just one puff, that's all you needed to do to prove yourself and after that you’d never have to smoke again. With a nervous palm, you press the small burning stick between your lips and inhale a violent breath. The heated smoke hitting the back of your throat as you instantly fought back the desire to cough.

“Fuck.”

You choke out as the gust of smog fell from your lips, the corners of cat eyed wings beginning to water as you swiftly handed back the worst decision you’d ever made. That was definitely the last time you’d do that. Giving yourself a few moments to regain your strength, you stand back upright and flash your best friend a concerned smile.

“Yeah, not a fan of that.”

You groaned before pressing your lips in a firm line, a strange tingle in your throat burning as if you’d swallowed hot coals. How was it that so many of your friends could smoke like a chimney and never suffer from such a burn? Not even ice water could soothe the fire in your throat.

You had always wished for Hanna’s confidence; ever since you were kids she had always been the social butterfly and you’d hidden yourself away indoors with your books and your stories. While boys had captivated her, fantasy had captivated you. Losing yourself in a world where anything was possible.

“And you made out with half the girl’s in the sorority because you wanted to, it had nothing to do with me and you know it.”

A small harmonious laugh parted your lips and you glanced down at the outfit you’d been forced into for the night. It hadn’t been your first choice; hell it wouldn’t have been your one hundredth choice but unfortunately, you didn’t get a choice in the matter.

“Did you have to pick something so–”

You pause for a moment, your slender fingers pulling at the hem in an attempt to make the dress seem longer, desperately trying to pull it past your knees.

“Sexy?”

Your best friend replied, not letting you finish your own sentence for fear of already knowing the answer. You’d put up a good fight as she basically painted it on you earlier that night, but you clearly weren't strong enough to save yourself from a night dressed like a dominatrix.

“I was going to say short.”

You snip, still attempting the impossible with the last two inches of your dress. You were already beginning to stress of the dribbling males that would be hanging off your every word and you hadn’t even stepped inside yet. Surely this was taking ‘you owe me one’ a little too far?

“You can’t complain, the dark red goes so well with your milky skin tone and your dark hair. You look like the damsel in distress from your vampire romance novel.”

A soft pink flush comes to your cheeks as your best friend brings up your secret shame that to this day you wish you hadn’t told her about, your heart rate dropping slightly as you compared the imagery in your head. In your mind, you looked nothing like the main female human within your stories. She was delicate like a flower, as sweet as honey and as beautiful as a sunset. You were none of those things.

“Are you done? I just want to get this over with.”

Darting your crystal gaze in the direction of the almost burn out stick, you raise your eyebrows in question and motion towards the nightclub entrance with an eager bob of your head.

“Let's go.”

- - - - -

The sweet smell of dry rose mixed with a delicate musk hit Rhea’s nostrils before you’d even set foot in the bar; the second the door opened she was drowned in your floral aroma. The small hairs that lay across her neck standing on end as her fingers tightened, the crystal glass beneath her fingertips creaking under the pressure. It was as if every smell that plagued the bar had disappeared and all that was left was you. You were tantalizing and she had to have you.

“Tequilaaaaa.”

You made it eight steps. You’d been in the bar less than ten seconds and you already wanted to leave. Your nose crinkled as you lean away from the overly loud female, keeping your line of sight on the bar. The faster you got to the alcohol the better and at least you could still have your red wine.

Sliding your palms across the slick bar top; for a split second you forget what you're wearing and lean forward on the bar to gain the bartender's attention, the cool breeze of passers by alerting you of your exposed ass cheeks as you snap back up to standing position. To the naked eye, it would have been missed, gone unnoticed by everyone and you would have gotten away with it. But a split second for humans could be stretched for hours by a vampire; it was a skill that came hand in hand with their inhuman speed.

The whites of Rhea’s eyes darkened slightly as she stared at you from her booth in the corner of the night club, the tips of her fingers turning pure white as she gripped even tighter to the tumbler in her palm. The snow white mounds peeking out from beneath rich crimson fabric had Rhea’s desire for you to increase. There was something primal deep within her that flipped like a switch the second she’d layed eyes on you, the pain in her gums and the burning under her skin like thousands of tiny matches had been lit against her already sensitive flesh. The cheeky peek at what your body looked like out of your dress had Rhea’s plump lip rolling beneath blunt pearly whites, her free palm moving from the booth before her to drag back through slicked back jet black hair.

You were like a magnet; drawing Rhea in, captivating her every sense by doing nothing but exist in the same space as her. The stale smell of old beer and wet cigarettes no longer existed in her nostrils, all she could smell was rose; sweet and fresh. It was the most beautiful smell she’d ever come across and she couldn’t wait to get her teeth into it. Quite literally.

“I’ll have a glass of red, sixteen ounces please.”

“And four shots of tequila!”

Your bestie screamed as you attempted to order your drink, her entire form bumping into you as she crashed into your side with a loud groan. You’d had a few shots before leaving the sorority house and it was becoming very clear to you what kind of drunk you’d be looking after tonight, your forearm wrapping around the shorter female's waist swiftly in hopes to keep her upright.

“Two. And a glass of water please.”

You took a worried look over in your best friend's direction as she held onto your frame, returning your focus swiftly to the bartender as he too watched over your companion with concerned hues. You had more friend’s coming, you wouldn’t have to take care of her yourself all night, but what were you supposed to do before the other arrived?

Slender fingers winding around the stem of your wine glass, your glistening hues scanning around the vicinity as you took a seat at the bar with your inebriated counterpart in tow. Why had you agreed to come out tonight? Why couldn’t have been you washing your hair? Gently crossing one toned leg over the other, you leant back against the bar to rest upon the ledge. You didn’t intend to stay out all night, but a couple of hours out of the house couldn’t be that bad right? Maybe something exciting would happen to you for once.

Rhea’s grip around her beverage had yet to relax, her entire fingers starting to lose color as she continued to hold tightly onto the tumbler. The clear glass beneath her pressure had begun to crack, hairline fractures scattering across the smooth surface as she finally retracted her palm in enough time to save herself from shattered glass littering her flesh.

She couldn’t take her eyes off you, not even for a second. The way your dark curls fell about your shoulders, your exposed collarbones and the plunge of your perked breasts, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath you took. You had her captivated in ways that she’d never experienced before and no matter how long it took, she was going to get a taste of you.

“Drink the water, please.”

Small whimpers fell from Hanna's lips as you tried to hold the tall glass of clear liquid against them, your manicured brows knitting together as she reluctantly sipped at the refreshing liquid you so desperately wanted her to drink. She just needed to balance out what she was consuming, one glass of water per alcoholic beverage and you'd have her back on her feet in no time.

“I wanna daaaance.”

Hanna whined, her face turning away from the glass as you lowered it back down to the bar top with a soft exhale of air. Of course she wanted to dance and of course she couldn’t wait for the remainder of your group to arrive. This was supposed to be a simple night out, but it seems that reality had other plans.

Gently taking hold of her wrist, you pull Hanna in your direction and force her to look at you, her glimmering emerald hues cloaked in a pleading expression as she pouted flush lips. You couldn’t say no to her; it was the reason you were out of the house to begin with, but you weren’t a great dancer and if you could avoid it you would.

“How about you finish your water first, huh?”

Another elongated whine fell from Hanna’s lips as her faux pout grew more dramatic, her head shaking side to side with enough gusto to have her long blonde curls hit you in the face. God she was annoying, but over the years you’d gotten used to her stubborn demeanor and her ability to get you on board with whatever she wanted. It didn’t come as a surprise when all she had to do was bat her lashes and everyone would be fawning over her within seconds.

Rolling your eyes counterclockwise as you finish off the last of your wine, you slide the empty glass back towards the bartender and push off your barstool with an exasperated groan. Dancing wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but having the entire bar’s watchful gaze on you as your shapely body moved in a dress that wouldn’t even fit a Malibu barbie was another thing. Pulling the hem of your dress down once more as you tried your best to cover more of your exposed flesh, you finally give up and grasp tightly around the fragile bones of Hanna’s wrists.

“Rule one. You stay upright.”

Yanking Hanna from her bar stool and on to her feet, you lock your crystal gaze with her own. Sure you were probably wasting your breath, but it didn’t hurt to try and get through to her.

“Rule two. Keep your hands off the strangers.”

You could see the excitement growing on Hanna’s face as she realized you were giving in to her request, her energy level practically boiling beneath her skin as she began to bounce in place. Maybe letting her burn off some energy before everyone else arrived would make your evening a little more bearable.

Loosening your hold on Hanna’s wrist only slightly so she didn’t run off towards the dance floor without you, you grasp at the half empty glass of water to have a final attempt at getting her to drink it.

“Finish your water and then we can dance, I promise.”

Watching you closely as you encouraged your friend to down the remainder of her water, Rhea couldn’t help the devilish smirk that claimed her full lips. Your statuesque physique continued to tempt her as she inhaled yet another full breath of your intoxicating scent, the sharp pain in her gums becoming unbearable as she licked a plump tongue across pearly whites. It was clear to her that you wouldn’t be alone any time soon, but she was willing to wait. You were the only person she saw in a sea of bodies and if meant waiting all night to satisfy herself with the rich elixir of your blood, then so be it.

The warmth of the dance floor was definitely off putting, hot and sweaty bodies writhing against each other as the heavy base of the music thumped in your ears. But as your body swayed back against Hanna’s and her lengthy fingers held tightly onto your hip bones, you had to admit to yourself that maybe you were having a good time. It wasn’t public knowledge that you preferred the touch of a beautiful woman to that of a dribbling puppy dog male, but as the delicate touches of Hanna’s fingertips danced against your flesh you couldn’t help the soft whimper that parted your lips.

The harmonious noise of your soft mews flooded Rhea’s earcannels; even with the heavy bass drop, your sounds were all she could hear as she continued to watch you from the corner booth, her darkened hues burning into your slender form as she carefully finished her stiff drink for the fractured glass. Selective hearing was a perk of being undead, focusing on what she wanted to hear and ignoring everything else around her like it didn’t exist. All she saw was you, all she heard was you and all she wanted was you.

“I’ll drink it really slow. Pleeease.”

Hanna whined as she rested her chin down against your shoulder, the warmth of her breath cascading across your skin as she begged you for yet another drink. Your milky flesh pimpling beneath the air that parted her lips as she gently trailed her fingertips up and down the length of your forearm, you let heavy lashes close for a few moments while you contemplated her question. It was no surprise to you that her touch was coursing such a reaction. How were you supposed to stay calm when a beautiful woman had her hands on you? Exuding a small sigh as you turn on stiletto clad feet, you open your eyes to look upon Hanna with a concerned expression.

You didn't want to be the reason she wasn’t having fun.

“Fine. But you drink it really slowly.”

Hanna squealed with excitement as once more she began to bounce in place, her slender fingers gripping tightly around your wrist as she dragged your statuesque form back in the direction of the bar with nothing but joy in her eyes.

You couldn’t begin to understand why girls loved drinking and being out in such crowded places while they did it. What was so appealing about the atmosphere the two of you currently found yourself in? Sweaty bodies, loud music and– A large lump formed in your throat and your mind went blank as your glistening gaze locked onto the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen leaning against the edge of the bar as you approached. Her jet black hair slicked back and away from her perfectly chiseled jaw, her plump lips coated in a burnt red paint, a midnight black suit hugging her muscular form perfectly and a litter of silver rings adorning her lengthy fingers as she stared intently at the bartender who stood motionless in front of her.

“Hi!”

Hanna yelled over the base of the music as the two of you reached the bar top, her emerald hues flitting over to the mysterious stranger as you stood in silence at her side. You weren’t one to talk to people you didn’t know; especially when they looked the way she did. Swatting at Hanna’s upper arm to gain her attention, you raise your brows in a concerned expression before shaking your head gently back and forth.

“Don’t bother people you don't know, Han. I’m sorry.”

Glancing over in the direction of the lady in black, you swallow nervously as her shimmering sapphire hues lock with your gaze. Her eyes were like crystal pools, instantly captivating you and pulling you into their hypnotic state with ease.

Leaning back only slightly on her stool as to peer around Hanna’s form to give you a un-noticeable up and down, Rhea licked her plump tongue slowly over her throbbing gums as an eat shit smirk claimed crimson lips.

“No complaints here.”

Rhea chortled softly. The pads of her fingers coiling around the new crystal glass of amber liquid as she slowly brought it up to her lips, not once breaking the hypnotic connection the two of you shared as she gulped back a mouthful of the burning liquor.

You could feel the color of your cheeks shift, even with the multicolored lights that flashed through the otherwise dimly lit bar you were certain Rhea noticed as she turned her attention back to the bartender who remained motionless in front of her. He hadn’t once looked away; as if he was in a trance, captivated by her movements.

“Glass of red and a fruity cocktail, am I right?”

You could see Rhea as she peeked over at you from her peripherals, the eat shit grin returning to her perfect lips as she took another long sip from her beverage. How did she know what you were drinking? Had she been watching you?

Bobbing your head in a slow motion, you couldn’t help the little smile that tugged the corners of your lips. You should be concerned, right? A complete stranger had been watching you, for how long you weren’t even sure and in any normal circumstance you’d be grabbing your things and heading for the door, but there was something about this woman that made you want to stay. Something about her that had your subconscious spinning and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“So what’s with the whole dark and mysterious look you’ve got going on, mysterious stranger? It’s kinda creepy.”

Your mouth fell agape at Hanna’s words, a sudden wave of panic washing over you as you tugged a few strands of her golden hair causing her to whine at the pain.

“What?”

She snipped, turning her gaze back towards you as she rubbed the sore spot on her scalp. She could be so obtuse sometimes and it often led to unwanted confrontation that you had to resolve. With a ‘what the fuck’ expression upon your features, you step around her petite frame to sandwich yourself between her and Rhea as concern once more claimed your face.

“I really am sorry about her.”

Turning your back on Hanna as she continued to rub at her scalp, you faced Rhea head on with an apologetic smile. You didn’t find her attire creep, in fact the darkness of her clothing and depth to her make up made her most captivating feature pop. Her sapphire gaze was truly the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, looking into her eyes brought a warmth to your demeanor that you only felt when you lost yourself in your books.

“She doesn’t have a filter and will find pretty much anything to keep herself entertained.”

Rhea didn’t say a word as she leant back on her stool to peek over at Hanna with a raised brow, a small chortle releasing from her chest as she sat back to rest her elbow against the bar.

“I can see.”

Your manicured brow arches in confusion as you take in Rhea’s words, turning back on high heels to find Hanna tongue deep in a complete stranger. The beverage she was supposed to drink ‘slowly’ empty on the bar top alongside two empty shot glasses. Expelling a soft gust of air from your nostrils, you roll your eyes counterclockwise and return your attention to Rhea as she sits sipping her liquor in silence.

“So much for girls' night.”

You grumble as slender fingers wind round the stem of your wine glass, slowly bringing the glass to your lips before swallowing a mouthful of the crimson liquid in one big gulp. You’d expected nothing less from Hanna, she was known for finding anyone or anything to make out with but you didn’t expect it to happen before you had other friends to keep your attention occupied.

Staring down at the last bit of wine as you swirled it round and round in the glass, you exhaled a small sigh before knocking your head back to consume the sweet liquid. The sound of Rhea clearing her throat pulling you back to reality as you placed the empty glass back onto the bartop. You hadn’t noticed her watching you, her dark gaze burning into your milky flesh as you’d dwelled in self pity over losing your friend to some random stranger with a skilled tongue.

“Can I get you another glass of wine?”

Your plush lips curved into an impish simper as your tongue played with each pitfall of your back teeth. You weren’t one to have drinks with a stranger, especially with someone as devilishly attractive as the female in your current company, but what harm would it do to be adventurous. Live on the wild side for once like the heroine in your new novel.

Sliding the empty glass in the direction of the awaiting bartender, you crinkle your nose in contemplation. Maybe you should order something other than wine. You were planning to live on the edge a little, so why not spice up every part of your evening?

“You know what, surprise me.”

- - - - -

The pad of Rhea’s finger danced softly against your neck as she swiped the loose strand of chestnut curls over your shoulder, your exposed flesh causing the heat in her esophagus to rage like wildfire. The steady thrum of your heartbeat like heavy drums in her ear canal as you sipped the fruity beverage she'd chosen for you, blissfully unaware of her staring once more. She could smell the sweetness of your blood as it moved through your veins, pulsing at the sweet spot in your throat like a beckon that kept drawing her in. She couldn’t help herself, everything about you was like torture.

It was a stupid idea for her to be this close to you when she hadn’t fed, one wrong move and she’d be left with quite the mess to clean up and compulsion wouldn’t be an option in a place this busy. She knew she was weak, the lack of human blood always led to dwindling power and one feed wouldn’t be enough to pull her back to full strength. But as Hanna had wandered off into the night with her new found plaything, Rhea had invited you back to her booth with open arms. She wanted to be alone with you, to not let anyone else have you. Your scent had intoxicated every fiber of her being and even with the fire that raged in her gums she couldn’t convince herself to walk away.

“It’s not as easy as I thought it would be, ya know, I've been writing for years but I'm still finding myself with too many sleepless nights when it comes to my current work.”

You weren’t sure why Rhea had become so invested in what it was you did outside of the four walls you both found yourselves in, but as you spoke about your current endeavors with school and the challenges they were bringing you; you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Most people found your creative writing to be boring and often changed the subject to something else whenever you brought them up, but Rhea was hanging off your every word like it was the most exciting thing she’d ever heard in her life. Her piercing gaze fixated on your lips as you spoke, her palm resting beside your thigh on the cushioned seat you shared and her plump lips curved into a devilish simper. She was eating up every single word that you said, which only encouraged you to keep going.

“Fantasy isn’t everyone's cup of tea and I often have to deal with immature frat boys calling me geeky names but when I open my mind up to the world of the supernatural, I can lose myself in a reality more exciting than my own.”

One of Rhea’s brows arched skyward at your mention of the supernatural, the corner of her lip inching into a playful smirk as she took a long sip from her crystal tumbler before setting it down beside your empty glass. So you were a girl who thrived on the suspicion of creatures that didn’t always take human form, how convenient for her.

In a move that would go unseen to the human eye, Rhea shifted her palm to rest down against the exposed flesh of your thigh. The tips of her fingers toying playfully with the hem of your tiny dress as she leant in to press the flush of her lower lip against your ear. She could hear the increase of your heartbeat before you could realize its speed, the pad of her thumb catching the sensitive part between your legs only causing the sound to grow louder.

“Supernatural you say.”

Rhea’s blunt teeth caught the shell of your ear as she spoke, her lips moving painfully slowly as she began to press a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. You’d never had someone make a move so quickly after nerding out about school, but the delicateness of Rhea’s actions had you melting under her touch. A soft mew parting your lips as you tried to remain focused on your breath. You couldn’t let on how desirable Rhea made you feel, you barely knew each other.

The blood pumping beneath Rhea’s lips had her free palm gripping tightly at her empty glass, her subconscious trying its best to focus on not ripping out your throat and not the strength she was using.

“Are you actually interested, Miss Ripley? Or are you just acting interested to get in my panties?”

Your head lulled to the side in attempts to beckon Rhea closer, your thighs parting only slightly to tempt her playful hands as her fingers continued to toy with your dress. This wasn’t you. Not normally, but there was something about Rhea that had your mind reeling. She made it hard for you to focus, it was like she had an aura that played with your senses and clouded your brain.

You felt Rhea’s lips morphe into an eat shit smirk against your skin as she nipped sharply against your pulse point, the strength behind each nip leaving purple marks in their wake. Your own lips pressing into a harsh line as you fought back a plethora of pleasurable moans that threatened to break free, your head tilting back against the cushioned wall behind you as your fingertips gripped the edge of the booth.

You were hidden away from eighty percent of the bar in your corner booth, the patrons all too focused on each other to pay your little endeavors any attention. You could whimper and moan all you wanted, the music was far too loud for anyone to hear. She could use you like a rag doll and no one would be the wiser.

“What if I said both?”

You could feel the flush of Rhea’s lips move against your collarbone as she spoke, the sharp nips against your flesh pausing for only a few seconds as she addressed your question, quickly resuming once she was done. You couldn’t begin to imagine what your throat looked like as Rhea’s skilled lips continued their magic, your fingers only gripping harder at the booths ledge as you held in your breath to calm your desire.

There was no way that you’d found someone who not only showed interest in you but also in your work. They weren’t often a thing that came hand in hand and a part of you was beginning to doubt yourself. This had to be a set up. Your friends were just playing some sick joke on you and Rhea was just attractive bait to lure you into a trap.

“Is it wrong for me to say I don’t believe you?”

You probably should have kept your mouth shut, but once you had an idea in your head, you had to act on it.

The burning sensation of Rhea’s kiss as they marked your skin stopped suddenly, her sapphire gaze retracting to meet your questioning own as the corners of her lips twitched into a devilish simper.

“Come now kitten, what kind of a woman do you take me for? Lying to you just so I can get you out of your dress? I should be offended.”

You couldn’t stop the sudden increase of your heart rate as Rhea’s little pet name caught you off guard, the plush of your lower lip rolling tightly between pearly whites as you kept your gaze locked with hers. You couldn’t think of what to say. She didn't seem offended, the unbelievably desirable smirk remained plastered on her lips as the pad of her thumb once more found itself dancing against the soft skin of your inner thigh. She wasn’t backing down, not even slightly and if she still wanted you, she could still have you.

You could feel the lump resurfacing in your throat as Rhea’s sapphire hues burnt into your own, the devilish glare within them pulling you further and further into her web as her plump tongue coaxed over her painted lips. She was staring at you like a hungry lioness stalking her prey and with each passing second your cravings for her lips back on your skin grew stronger. What had this woman done to you?

With a swift motion you barely noticed, Rhea’s fingertips from her free palm moved to sweep back the dark curls that clung to your shoulder, pushing them down your spine to reveal the soft curve of your shoulderbone to her wandering gaze. She’d not looked away from you for most of the night and yet there was so much more of your slender form she wanted to see.

Pressing her heated kiss back down against the hollow of your collarbone, you can’t help but expel the soft mews that had been clinging to your lungs. Even the slightest of touches; be it fingers or lips, had you reveling in desire. Every part of you screaming for her touch as you leant into the passion of her aura.

Without a word, your thighs parted once more. Your entire body was begging for her to take it as her own and the longer she made you wait, the harder it became to keep yourself contained. You didn’t usually beg for someone to be this close to you. On your usual Saturday nights, you were wrapped in a blanket with your laptop, writing your novel and wishing your life could be as exciting as the heroines you wrote about. Falling in love with supernatural beings, learning about a whole new world and chasing dreams that didn’t exist in a human’s reality.

Chewing at the plush of your lower lip, you let heavy lids fall closed. The sensations of Rhea’s lips moving effortlessly against your jugular vein had your heart racing, the heavy thrum like music as it played in her ears. The pain beneath her gums raged; growing more intense by the second as her fingertips pressed into the creamy flesh of your upper thigh. She wanted you and you wanted her, it was clear to you both where this night could end.

A small wince echoes from your chest as your blunt teeth punctured the top layer of skin upon your lower lip, the rich taste of copper coating your tongue as Rhea’s entire form went rigid. She could smell the blood as it pooled from the injury you inflicted on yourself, causing the depths of her gaze to darken. The smell flooded her nostrils as she held herself still against your neck, keeping her features away from your gaze as the tips of her canines began to ache. Her control was weak, the lack of human blood over the last few days had left her with no power left to curb her desires. She could feel the monstrous rage that came hand in hand with feeding off a fresh vein boiling under her skin, the tips of her fingers pressing into your thigh enough to leave purple blemishes beneath the tips.

“Rhea?”

Your tone was laced with question as you spoke her name, concern flooding your features as you pulled away from her heated lips that still held their place against your throat. Your head craning to the side in attempts to look upon her motionless form, you swallowed nervously as your gaze fell upon the unexpected. The depth of Rhea’s eyes caused the air in your lungs to catch, your throat growing tight as a lump in your windpipe kept you from breathing out even a single breath. Was it a trick of the lighting? Were the shadows playing tricks on you?

Sucking the blood that had pooled on your lower lip into your mouth, you force out a stammered breath. It had to be your mind, it was playing tricks on you. There was no way that what you were witnessing was true. It couldn’t be. But as your mind played back over the night's events, your heart rate began to increase once more; only this time you had other things on your mind.

You hadn’t seen Rhea once since entering the nightclub and yet all of a sudden, there she was. Making herself a part of your night without even trying. Her dark demeanor and captivating eyes, her beauty and enticing persona. It was as if she’d been written to be perfect by your own mind. You played back each and every moment of the night as Rhea simply watched you, the black glaze to her once sapphire hues somehow still so captivating as you pieced things together. The stranger that had caught Hanna’s attention so quickly, the speed behind some of Rhea’s actions along with the ones that seemed to go unnoticed until they didn’t, her obsession with the soft spot of your pulse point and her ability to bruise your flesh with almost no effort. She was strong and fast. It wasn’t real, It couldn’t be.

It would only take a moment for Rhea to make you compliant, to get what she truly needed from you, but as she watched the light in your eyes flicker with excitement— only for a second, she doubted herself. You didn’t seem scared, in fact the complete opposite. Why didn't you run? It was clear you knew something no one else did and yet you hadn’t made one move for the exit.

Stretching out your palm to trace a singular finger over the arch of Rhea’s perfectly chiseled cheekbone, you swallowed back the lump in your throat with one thing on your mind. If this was real, if you were sat in the presence of something no one else believed in, then you would dive into the reality with both feet. Watching as the depth of her gaze shifted back to the bight blue you’d fallen so deeply for, you drop your hold on her features and grasp tightly at Rhea’s palm that sat on the table beside her empty glass.

“Come with me, Mami and I'll give you what you need.”

Giving Rhea’s hand a gentle tug as you slid from the booth and encouraged her to follow, you couldn’t help the impish glimmer that flickered in your eyes. If this moment was going to play out how you imagined, you needed a little more privacy.

- - - - -

The arch of your spine slammed against the reflective glass of the full length bathroom mirror as Rhea pressed against your slender form with all she had, the heat of her kiss against your jugular once more as you pawed at her shoulders in attempt to remove the suit jacket that clung to her torso. You could feel the hunger resonating out of Rhea’s form, her blunt nails puncturing the soft flesh of your thigh as she pulled your leg up to her waist. She was starved and as the moment between you grew hotter and hotter, it became harder and harder for Rhea to remain focused. Your pounding heartbeat didn’t exactly help the situation either.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Rhea practically moaned as she wound her lengthy fingers into the mass of your chestnut curls, her palm tugging down to expose more of your milky throat for her to ravish with her purple marks.

“Because I know where this goes.”

You whine as Rhea scatters a brand new chain of bruises around your neck, her palm moving you head like a puppet as she moves from one side of your throat to the other.

“I’ve written this story.”

Rhea’s interest peaked as you unknowingly gave away a part of the story you had yet to talk about. The question being which supernatural it was you wrote about. Trailing the tip of her nose up the left side of your jugular, across the perfect angle of your jaw and slowly up to your right ear, she gently sucked the lobe between her devilish lips before whispering softly against your ear.

“Then tell me Kitten, how does our story go?”

Were you about to quote your own book?

Use lines you’d written with the intention of never truly being said.

The warmth of Rhea’s breath against your ear makes your lids flutter, your fingers moving to toy with the first button of her slightly opened shirt as you turn your head slightly to find her oceanic hues. They were your words, you had written them, so why couldn’t you speak them? Popping the first button of Rhea’s shirt and swiftly moving to the second one, you lick across your front teeth before using the tip of your nose to bump her chin enough for you to find her ear.

You needed the right inflection, to commit to the part if you wanted it to work out and fuck did you want it to work out. Pressing a scatter of heated kisses along the perfect angle of Rhea’s jawline, you nipped playfully at her earlobe for letting out your words in a whisper.

“Take my body as your own, sinking your teeth deep into my skin; show me no mercy.”

Your voice dripped with desire as you popped yet another button on Rhea’s shirt, the pads of your fingers dancing across the skin as you exposed it to your gaze. Taking to the next button as you pressed a warm kiss to the corner of her jaw.

“Rip out everything mentally and let it explode physically.”

The whites of Rhea’s gaze began to grow dark as your words played with her hunger, tugging at the strings like torture. Your ravenous lips pressing another few kisses across her jawline.

“Grab hold of me, thrust and tear me chaotically, spilling your rage all over me.”

Finally reaching the last of the buttons on Rhea’s shirt, you pull the tails free from the leather belt that kept them at bay to expose her bare breasts to the air of the smoky bathroom.

“Hate me, love me, destroy me.”

Shifting your lips to peck repeatedly at Rhea’s own in hopes she would simply take you; there and then, you hike up your free leg to eagerly wind them both around her waist. Her weight against your form as you were pressed back into the mirror kept your bodyweight up, your hips grinding down against her own in attempts to get comfy.

Pulling at your hair and yanking your head back and away from her, you watch as Rhea’s lips morphed into a eat shit smirk. You watched in awe as the depth to her glazed eyes became darker, the grin upon her face peeling back to reveal elongated canines that almost glimmered in the bathroom lighting.

Vampire. Your subconscious screamed as you chewed playfully at your lower lip, your present mind not once thinking of the danger you could be in and ignoring the desire any normal human would have to run.

“Use me. Claim me.”

You uttered as your palms slid into the small of Rhea’s back, your slightly pointed nails pressing into her flesh as you slowly clawed them up her spine before winding them into her onyx tendrils. It took less than a second for Rhea’s palm that held tightly onto your thigh to snap up around your throat, her callus fingers tightening instantly to restrict the air escaping your lungs as she licked hungrily across her pointed fangs.

“Make me your plaything and fuck me, mia regina.”

(“ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ, ᴍʏ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ.”)

Rhea’s tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth as your fluent Italian flooded her ears, a shallow growl vibrating in her chest as she snapped her lips back against the shell of your ear.

“Oh dolce Gattino, ho intenzione di farlo.”

(“ᴏʜ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ, ɪ ᴘʟᴀɴ ᴛᴏ.”)

Each moment with Rhea was like you’d planned it, every detail of the night following that of your own imagination as she returned your foreign language without effort. Smoothing her thumb over the vein on your pulse point, she slacked off the hold she had on your throat just enough to allow you breath. Her heated breath washed over your ear as she continued to speak.

“Perché da ora in poi sei mio. Solo mio.”

(“ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏᴡ ᴏɴ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ. ᴏɴʟʏ ᴍɪɴᴇ.”)

You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as Rhea’s flawless Italian continued to drive itself into your consciousness, your heavy lids fluttering closed as her muscular form pulled you against her chest to relocate you to the sinks ledge. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you, about to be ravished beyond your wildest dreams by a walker of the night.

You couldn’t bring your gaze away from Rhea’s bare chest as her knee pushed itself between your own, driving your thighs apart enough for her to slide into the space she'd created with a devilish chortle. The darkness of her gaze continued to deepen, the vice-like grip around your throat tightening once more as she tilted your head back to have you look up at her with widened eyes. You could still breathe, but as Rhea’s fingertips pressed into the sides of your jugular you prayed to the heavens that she’d squeeze tighter. That she’d pull you into a new euphoria and heighten the desire that pooled between your legs.

“Only yours.”

You whimpered as the crushing sensation in your windpipe trapped the sound within its walls. Rhea was driving you crazy, each passing second pulling you further into a daydream as your palm moved to trace your fingertips over the wigs that spread over her sternum. Your blunt teeth gripping the flush of your lower lip as you took in every detail of the intricate tattoo, fracturing the delicate skin once more as the pressure became more intense. You could taste the blood as it bubbled to the surface once more, the coppery taste coating your taste buds as your fingers dropped from their soft touches to Rhea’s skin.

“I’m sor–”

You didn’t have the time to finish your apology before Rhea’s hunger found the soft plush of your lip, the heavy tug of her pulling the blood clean from the cut causing a delicate moan to vibrate from your chest as your fingertips gripped around the sinks ledge. She’d fought back every desire you’d thrown at her. Your scent, the heavy thrum of your heartbeat every time she’d touched you, but as the warm elixir of your life’s essence washed over her tongue, Rhea broke. She was done holding back, you’d given all the permission she needed to take you as her own and fuck was she about to take advantage of it.

The grip around your throat disappeared without you even realizing, both Rhea’s palms finding your hips to pull your ass forward. The hem of your crimson dress hitching higher up your thighs to expose more of your creamy flesh as Rhea’s darkened gaze simply watched in pleasure, her flush lips curving into her signature eat shit smirk as her tongue slid over elongated fangs. She wanted to taste every part of you, feel every part of you beneath her lips.

Tracing the pads of her fingers over the expanse of your soft thigh with one palm, Rhea craned your head slightly to press a scatter of kisses along your collarbone and up the column of your neck. The sharp points of her teeth catching your flesh every so often had you reeling, your legs twitching slightly as you felt the gentle touches of Rhea’s lengthy fingers trace between your thighs and ever closer to the heated core. The lace that shielded your wetness from her eager fingertips growing damper as Rhea’s released a deep moan against your earlobe.

“Take all of me Mami, please.”

You begged, swallowing a large ball of saliva as it pooled on your tongue.

“Take my body. My mind. My soul.”

You could feel the chuckle that parted Rhea’s lips as she moved her kiss back down your throat. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what damage she’d done to your milky skin by this point, but as your flesh burned beneath each hungry kiss, you let your mind wonder.

The sensation of skilled fingertips pulling aside your soaked panties and sliding between your slick folds yanked you from your subconscious, an unexpected moan parting your lips as Rhea slowly circled your sensitive bundle of nerves with her thumb. Your spine slowly arching forward with each new sensation, you chewed at the uncut side of your lip to suppress your whimpers.

“Non nascondermi il tuo piacere, Gattina. Lascia che ti ascolti.”

(“ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ, ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ. ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ.”)

Rhea uttered against your skin as she slowly swiped her finger up and down the slit of your folds, pressing the tip against your entrance as she dragged sharp points across your shoulder. She wanted to give you pleasure before she took some for herself, but as the heat behind her gums burned, she contemplated how much longer she could hold back before she’d be forced to line her esophagus with your sweet nectar.

“Sì, Mami.”

(“ʏᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴍɪ.”)

You whined as the tip of Rhea’s finger at your entrance caused your back to arch and your thighs to twitch, another heavy moan falling from your lips as she slowly began to insert her finger between your tight walls.

You still couldn’t believe what you were doing. Rhea could kill you if she so desired and yet you’d played into her web perfectly. She had you wound around her finger so tightly, in more than one sense and as she added an additional finger to the warmth of your core you couldn’t help yourself but call out her name.

Your thick lashes fluttered closed as Rhea’s palm cupped around the back of your neck, pulling your features forward to capture your lips with her own. A small wince echoing in your throat as her pointed teeth caught the small slice you’d caused but she didn’t seem to care as her tongue pushed past the barrier and began to explore your mouth, her fingers diving further into your wetness as she began to curl them against your sweet spot.

“Fuck.”

You purred, as Rhea’s kiss disappeared. Your lids snapping open as you felt the tips of her fangs drag against your pulse point. Was she about to feed off you? You were surprised that it hadn’t already happened. Vampires were written with a take what they want attitude, feed and move on. Rhea had already tasted your blood once and with that you’d expected her to rip into you like a wild animal, drain your life's essence and disappear into the night as if she never existed.

Tilting your head slightly to allow Rhea as much room as she needed for her feed, you close your eyes tightly. Would it hurt? You had no idea, but you had no intention of denying her. You could hear your heartbeat in your own ears and could only imagine what it was doing to her. The heavy thrum pounding out a perfect rhythm as you swallowed unknowingly out of nerves.

“Scared, Kitten?”

The dominance in Rhea’s voice had your fingertips gripping the countertop in seconds, your hips twitching forward against her palm as her two fingers continued to pump in and out of your slick walls without a sign of stopping. You weren’t scared, the complete opposite in fact; but you couldn’t bring yourself to form a sentence and instead a plethora of moans took the place of your words as her fingers curled perfectly against your sweet spot with each thrust. The chuckle that parted Rhea’s lips was almost evil as it vibrated in her throat, her heated kiss pressing once more against your jugular before her gaze pulled back to witness your tightly closed lids and monstrous grip upon the sink.

Slowing the rhythm of her thrusts only slightly with hopes of getting a reaction, Rhea’s painted lips curved into her signature smirk as your lashes fluttered and you lids peeled open. The darkness behind her gaze was still very present, the points of her teeth sharper than ever and yet she still hadn’t taken you as her latest blood bag. Why?

“I'm not scared of you.”

You stammered through labored breath.

“Prends-moi, brise-moi, s'il te plaît.”

(“ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴍᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ.”)

Once more Rhea’s lips peeled back in an almost demonic grin. Each time you saw the sharpness of her fangs it caused your heart to swoon, pulling you deeper and deeper into your own fantasies. Craving them to puncture your flesh and drag you into euphoria.

“As you wish”

Was all Rhea uttered as her rhythmic pulse against your core returned to its fast pace. You could feel the band in your abdomen tightening with each pump of her fingers, your head lulling back against the mirror as the fingertips from her free hand moved to sweep the hair back from your shoulders.

Was she about to give in? Were you finally about to experience what only the characters in your novel felt as an attractive female fed from you?

You could feel your peak approaching, each passing second Rhea pleasured your core pulling you closer and closer to the edge. You wanted her now, more than you had all night. Ever since the moment you realized what she was and what she could do to you, all you could think about was her sharp fangs plunging into your flesh and the euphoric state being connected with someone in such an intimate moment would bring.

Releasing the sink ledge and stretching out your palm in search of Rhea’s perfectly chiseled jawline, you traced your thumb against her smooth skin before cupping the nap of her neck. You didn’t want to be pushy, but you were losing your patience with the amount of time it was taking to feel her lips against your skin and with your pleasure soring, it was now or never.

Chewing at your punctured lip as you fought back the pleasured moans Rhea’s fingers pulled from your chest, your hips eagerly bucking against her. You couldn’t form words as she continued to bury her fingers third knuckle deep into your tight core, your chest beginning to rise and fall in labored pants as they forced their way out of your lungs.

“P-pl-please, Mami.”

You begged, your nails pressing into Rhea’s neck as you greedily rode her palm.

“Please.”

The word was barely air; let alone sound and would have gone unnoticed to anyone else. But as the sound of pleasured begging flooded Rhea’s eardrums, she followed your wordless request and leant forward to once more ravage your flesh. She could not only see the pleasure in your face, but feel it. She knew how to pull you over the edge and it wasn’t with her master finger skills.

Scrapping her sharp teeth over the pulsing point beneath your jugular, Rhea slowly wound her free palm around the length of your neck, her lengthy fingers coiling like a snake around the fragile column before snapping it to the left, exposing the long vein line to her aching gums. You’d begged her for it. For her to take you. Break you. Destroy you. Increasing the pace of her thrusts into your tight walls, you can't help but whimper as Rhea’s palm tightens around your neck and restricts your ability to breath.

“Last chance, Kitten. Sure you don’t want to run?”

Rhea uttered against your skin, the vibration of your pulse beneath her lips driving her insane as she licked the flat of her tongue across your jugular vein. You couldn’t answer her and she knew that, the constriction she had around your throat was almost cutting you dry and all you could manage was to gently bob your head in response to her question. You definitely didn’t want to run, you wanted to cum.

With a few more pulses of Rhea’s skilled fingers into your desperate core, you couldn’t hold back again longer. The band in your stomach wound so tight that you could feel tears behind your lids as you teetered on the edge of release. The sweet taste of your climax hitting like a tidal wave as the sudden sensation of pointed fangs punctured the supple flesh of your throat.

“Oh my… god… fuck!”

You panted as your own grip on Rhea’s neck tightened, your fingertips winding into onyx locks to hold her in place as your high crashed through you like a train. It was completely indescribable and yet it all felt right. You’d chosen to entertain Rhea in her little games all night long and your reward had been worth the wait.

As the warm elixir of your blood coated Rhea’s tongue and down her esophagus her entire form shifted, the energy she’d been lacking returning and her strength increasing ten fold.

Releasing your throat so as to not hurt you, Rhea’s palm slipped to your hip as you rode out your wave against her palm. The counter beneath you became slick with your wetness as she continued her pace with ease, pumping in and out to keep you on your high as long as possible. Feeding was euphoric on its own terms, but as your body trembled beneath her touch Rhea clued in to just how she was making you feel.

Your blood was rich and almost sweet, coating every inch of Rhea’s mouth as she continued to guzzle down the crimson liquid. Her eyes growing darker and darker with each mouth full. She’d never had a problem controlling herself when she was feeding, only inflicting injury on those who’d found themselves on the wrong end of a fight. But there was something about your life’s essence that caught her by surprise, her stomach filling but her desire only growing stronger.

“R-Rhea.”

You stammered. Your grip on her neck falling slack as your mind became fuzzy and your strength to hold on grew weak. The sensations you began to feel swirling in your subconscious as you contemplated letting her finish. ‘It will kill you!’ One side of your mind screamed. ‘But you don’t want to lose this feeling.’ Shouted the other, the two sides arguing causing the brain fog to expand as you whimpered softly. You’d never felt a sensation quite like having Rhea feed from you, the pull of blood leaving your body mixed with that of your mind clouding had you almost floating. Flying above everything as she suckled the life from within your form.

It was as if Rhea knew she needed to stop, the soft sting at your jugular disappearing instantly as she pulled free from your skin. A coat of crimson plastered over her smeared lips as she swallowed back her mouths contents to speak.

��Hey Kitten, talk to me. You doing okay?”

You could hear Rhea’s words and yet somehow still couldn’t answer her. Your high had already fallen, your mind clearing slightly as her muffled words fought to be heard, but with your vision still blurred and your mind still buzzing, you swallowed back with the little strength you had. A sharp wince pulling from your chest as the pain in your throat became noticeable.

“I’m fine.”

You slurred as the soft tips of Rhea’s fingers slid around your chin, her sapphire gaze returning once more as she pulled herself back to human looking status and turned your limp neck to have you face her. The pad of her thumb grazing over your cheekbone as she curiously examined your features. Physically you looked fine, her manicured brow becoming arched as she continued to search your expression.

“I’m fine.”

You repeated, this time a lot more assertive, as a cheeky grin claiming Rhea’s lips. Her palm still cradled around your chin and supporting your head, she couldn’t help the small chortle that vibrated in her chest.

“So it was just that good, huh?”

Rhea’s brow arched slightly as she licked her plush tongue over crimson stained lips, cleaning up every last drop of your blood that stained her kiss as you watched her closely. You could see the tiny shift in her ocean gaze as your blood cleansed her palate, your own lip rolling beneath your lips in you held in a small whimper.

“Better than the books.”

You uttered, a small laugh muffling in your mouth as you held your lips tightly with your teeth. Of course you had no idea what it would truly feel like, your imagination not even beginning to create such imagery as you’d written such a moment. Being with a vampire was supposed to be fantasy.

Rhea chuckled softly as she smoothed her thumb over the punctures left by her fangs, a small stinging sensation shooting up your spine as her pressure against the open wound increased slightly. Your lips falling lax as delicate moan pushed passed them, the same pleasure you’d felt as she fed from you bubbling to the surface.

“I’ve got one last treat for you, Kitten.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you begin to play off what else she could possibly do for you, hers sapphire hues keeping you very captivated as you hum a delicate tone.

“What else could you possibly have prepared for me, Mami?”

You purr as a singular finger lifting to trail over the perfect curve of Rhea’s jawline, your tongue coaxing over your lower lip as thick lashes flutter slightly. You’d known each other less than a few hours and yet somehow you’d found yourself willing to do anything in order to keep her around.

Watching you intently, Rhea’s lips curve into an impish smirk, her palm dropping from your cheek and moving to the supple plush of her lips in a fluid motion. The darkness in her gaze glimmering back to the surface, only for a few seconds as she ripped open the cluster of veins in her wrist.

“One, I can’t let you walk out of here with that.”

Rhea’s gaze flicked to the wound upon your neck and then swiftly back to her wrist as a small pool of blood formed against her skin. Sapphire pools rising up to meet your gaze with an almost protective smirk.

“And two, you're mine now, remember and I’m not done claiming you yet.”

Blood bonding. Was she serious? You didn’t expect to ever see Rhea again after tonight, but if you knew anything about the supposed existence of blood bonding between supernaturals you’d never be able to leave her side again. A sires bond, linked to each other no matter how far apart the world tried to pull you.

“You’re asking me to—”

Your words trail off quickly, your crystal gaze still locked with Rhea’s as your tongue pushes through your lips. You were definitely curious, did a vampire's blood taste different to your own? But could you take the risk of locking this woman into your life forever?

“No.”

The tone in Rhea’s voice dropped, the authoritative demeanor she now held making the words that fell from her lips a clear order.

“I’m telling you to.”

You swallow nervously, certain you’d obey her before you’d even fully processed the request as you sit up right on the sink ledge and adjust the hem of your dress. You didn’t even want to think what your hair looked like as you pulled a palm through the sweaty tangles, coughing lightly to clear your throat as you took one last moment to breathe.

“Do you trust me?”

It was strange to you how Rhea could almost play two completely different people, the dominance of her darker self and concern of her human form playing hand in hand as she spoke to you. The demanding attitude from before instantly replaced with protectiveness as she sensed your nerves.

Bringing both of your palms to hold them together in her lap as you looked down at twitching fingers, you inhaled one last breath before and focused on steadying your heart as you looked up in search of Rhea’s gaze. Looking into the depths of her eyes was calming, like looking out and the ocean and you knew if you could find her pools all would be okay.

The warmth behind Rhea’s gaze as you found it was the most comforting it had been all night, all the darkness within her almost melting away as she waited for your answer. She couldn’t let you leave the bathroom with such a disaster upon your throat, but she didn’t want to force anything on you unless she had too.

“I trust you.”

You finally uttered. Your words weren’t loud but they were loud enough for Rhea to hear as she took a small step closer to you, positioning herself perfectly between your thighs as her free palm cradled your neck.

You could almost smell the richness of Rhea’s blood as you wrapped both your palms around her wrist, your mouth unexpectedly flooding with saliva as you took in the sight before you. It was now or never, you wanted this moment to mean something. You wanted to show her that you’d felt something between you that you were willing to bond together and not have this moment be ruined by her forcing it all on you.

“Feed me and make me yours.”

You whisper, an impish grin claiming your lips as you coated blunt teeth with your tongue and lean gently against Rhea’s palm.

“Forever.”

- - - - -

TAGLIST: @coolbeans-17 @rebecca-quin @jemilyforever @marvel1995 @ripleyxo @littlemiss-fanficlover @12emi26 @riverscyberwife @ellabsdarling @lostintimeandmusic @imjohnnycake @55tarboy @jaye500 @call-me-a-simp @girlofpink @mizfortunez @eradicatabitch @jinxeilish @witchyweeb34 @bl0w-m3

357 notes · View notes

crownmemes · 2 months

Text

Angry & Irritated Sentences, Vol. 15

(Angry and irritated sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Are you intentionally trying to get me to dislike you?"

"Can't we just agree that you're incredibly annoying?"

"Who I know and who I don't is no concern of yours."

"Why do you have to analyze things to death? Why can't you just let it be nice?"

"I can see what you're doing, and I'm not going to fall for it."

"What the devil have you been up to?"

"You know you're a nag? A very pretty one, but a nag."

"I can't just break into someone's house!"

"This is really stupid."

"Oh God, you don't dance as well, do you?"

"Why don't we just kill him?"

"Are there no depths you won't sink to?"

"I'm not going to get caught because of you or anyone else!"

"You know, I've got to tell you, there is bossy - which can be sexy - and then there's bitchy."

"Don't make assumptions about me!"

"Are you going to ignore me all day again?"

"Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were having a state-the-obvious contest."

"You're an idiot! You nearly killed yourself!"

"I said no, so stop asking me!"

"Your very presence irritates me!"

"So somebody killed somebody. How is it my problem?"

"I'll talk to you any way I like!"

"Do you know your problem? You're insensitive."

"How far do you expect to get in life with an attitude like that?"

"You're behaving like a stubborn idiot!"

"You don't suppose you ought to be thinking about a proper job?"

"Are you thinking of doing something that has an outcome you can't live with?"

"Such a hero; always righting wrongs. Who cares who you have to manipulate?"

"You're not nearly as delightful as you think you are."

"That's an incredibly inappropriate question!"

"You know, when you're interested in something and nobody else is, the polite thing is to keep it to yourself."

"People think you have no inner censor. The fact is, you hold yourself back, because when you want to hurt, you know just where to poke a sharp stick. "

"Why are you so worked up over this?"

"I can’t believe you authorised this!"

"You know what's wrong - you're just too stubborn to admit it."

" 'I say what I think' is just another way of saying 'I'm an asshole'."

"So, when you say 'call me if you need anything', you mean 'don’t call me'?"

"Is the yelling designed to scare me? Because I'm not sure what it is I'm supposed to be scared of."

"I assume you have a reason beyond wanting to make me completely miserable?"

"You're sitting in my chair."

"You really think you can lie your way out of this?"

"You always were a terrible liar."

"Is that rhetorical?"

"Does your voice always get that high and annoying when you're angry?"

"I get that you’re not a big believer in the ‘catching flies with honey’ approach, but do you honestly think you’ll collect a jarful by cleverly taunting them?"

"I'm alive, and I want to remain with the living, understand?"

"What's it take to get you to fight like a man?"

"You always get your way, don't you?"

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #single sentence starters #assorted;#angry;

115 notes · View notes

ohtobeleah · 7 months

Text

Goodbye, Goodbye // Jake Seresin

-> A Terms of Endearment Blurb

Summary: Jake & Amilia have been trying for a year, when they do fall pregnant it leads to a much bigger discovery and an even bigger heart heartbreak.

Warnings: Pregnancy journey. Pregnancy talk. Miscarriage. Ovarian Cancer. Jake Seresin x OC reader. PLEASE READE THE WARNINGS

Word Count: 4.2k

Author Note: Day Twenty One of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Near Death Experience. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The love between Jake Seresin and Amilia Fisher was as fierce as love could be. It was no secret to anyone around them that they had a love that burned so deep and so profound that they would forever and always be each other’s end game. Each other's soul mates. For all that they had been through and worked on, new love grew in the form of healed wounds and new trust.

They had, for what it was worth—survived The Great War.

“I can’t keep doing this.” Amilia sighed as she crawled into bed beside her husband with yet another negative pregnancy test. “It’s been twelve months of constant let downs.” She frowned at the stupid plastic first response she knew she shouldn’t buy but kept repurchasing anyway. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t keep doing this to myself Jake.”

Amilia laid her head on Jake's shoulder as he sat up in their bed. The two of them had been trying for one whole year. One whole year of negative pregnancy tests. One whole year old preconception vitamins. One whole year of sperm health tables. One whole year of tips and tricks Amilia’s Flo app had given her. One whole year of prime positions and menstrual cycle tracking and temperature monitoring and diet changes.

One whole year of nothing by failed attempts and broken hearts.

“I know, and hey—I know we’re both on the same page about wanting this.” Jake cooed as he took the negative test from his wife’s hand. “But maybe it just isn’t our time?”

“So do we keep trying or do we go see a fertility specialist and try to figure out what’s going on?” They had been told to try and convince naturally for twelve consecutive months before reaching out to a specialist. That was the recommendation. But with every month that passed them by, Amilia grew more and more frustrated and concerned that something could be wrong.

“I think we keep trying, but do that in tandem with talking to a specialist.” Jake cooed. “I love you, I want this yeah?”

“I want this too—so bad.” Amilia could feel her bottom lip quivering. She wanted to be a mother so badly, she wanted to give Jake the chance to be a dad. He was already the best uncle to Odette and Riley, even if he was halfway across the world three months at a time. “I just don't know if I can't handle another negative test, my body is literally designed to have children and I can't even get a stupid fertilised egg to embed in me.” Jake had to laugh sympathetically as Amilia snuggled into his side with a huff. She was doing her best, he knew that.

“For all we know it could be me who's shooting blanks.” He reminded her. “We’ll talk to someone who can help us alright, but for now, let's just appreciate the time we have together before kiddos and prams and family passes and all the sleepless nights we’ll surely have.”

“I know you're frustrated.” Amilia mumbled into Jake's side. His tan torso was hot to the touch, her walking talking furnace. “You don't have to be the optimistic one all the time.”

“Trust me–” Jake admitted in the low light of their bedroom the two shared in Townsville, Australia. ”I am, but I'm not frustrated with you.” Jake felt like he had to make that clear as clear could be. “I think I'm just frustrated that we’re kinda told that if you have sex you get pregnant and die.” It was an over exaggeration of the poor sex education system, but Jake pretty much nailed it. “And now that we’re trying, it just sucks that it hasn't happened the way I always thought it would.”

“Makes me jealous of Fe for getting pregnant so easily.” Amilia felt awful saying it, but she knew her husband wouldn't spill her horrid thoughts. “Riley was a thought and then she was real in the span of a year and Nicky well, we both know Nicky was a little oopsie baby, our children, if we keep going at this rate will have sixty five year old parents in their teens.”

“How do people do it.'' Jake sighed as he sunk a little lower into the bed and pulled his wife into his chest. “Oopsie babies, I mean–I just don't get it, how do you not know?”

“We’re horrible people aren't we?” Amilia chuckled to herself as she curled into her husband. They were ready for the next big phase in life, but something was holding them back from stepping into parenthood. Some divine intervention that was telling them now wasn't their time. But my god did they both want it just as bad as each other.

“Hmm, maybe.” Jake kissed Amilias shoulder softly as he revelled in the scent of her body wash. “But no one needs to know, and all those people out there getting pregnant the first time round? They’re just overachievers.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Amilias period was four days late. She initially didn't think much of it because she knew when she got stressed it messed with her cycle, but something deep inside her was telling her to take just one more test. Something was telling her that if she took just one more, that it would be the positive she had been praying for.

“If you’re fucking with me man I’m gonna be pissed.” She wasn’t a religious person, but Amilia believed that there was something bigger than herself out there. So as the little stick sat upside down on the counter of her bathroom vanity—she spoke to whatever the hell that bigger idea was. “I’m serious, I can’t take it.”

The timer felt obnoxious, but Amilia jumped as the silence in her bathroom was broken by the set standard alarm her phone rang with. Three entire minutes had passed and she was standing on the edge of a cliff she knew that she’d jump off if that plastic stick was negative. She couldn’t do it anymore, it was torture.

“Alright, fuck it.” She groaned as she reached out to check the pregnancy test. To Amelia's surprise though it wasn’t what she had originally been expecting. “Oh my god—“ It was positive. Her first positive. “No fucking way.” Two very pink very clear very there lines were looking back at Amilia as she cupped a hand over her mouth and crouched down. Her knees felt weak, she had to remind herself to breathe or else she was going to pass out from the pure joy that was pulsing through her veins.

“Holy shit, I’m pregnant!” Amilia had thought about all the different ways she could have told her husband that they were expecting, she even had one of those ‘Hi Daddy’ newborn onesie tucked away somewhere deep in their closet for a rainy day. But as her feet hit the pavement of the Townville Naval base, Amilia made a B-line for the administration building to get herself a visitors pass.

“Your wife’s looking for you.” Gucci told Jake as he caught up with him in one of the hallways. “She’s in G building.”

“Oz is on base?” Jake replied with caution lacing his words.

“I just saw her, she asked if I saw you to send you her way.” Jake wasn’t about to stick around and play twenty one questions with his wingman. He let his feet carry him over to G building where he’d been told his wife was looking for him. Jake's locker was in G building, so was the canteen he frequented and the rec room he liked the most—so it was only natural for Amilia to assume that would be the easiest place to start.

“Oz?” Jake cooed as he rounded a particular corner and saw the back of his wife’s head. “What are you doing here? Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

Without question or any explanation, Amilia ran towards her husband with a smile so bright and a laugh so full of joy that it nearly knocked Jake to the ground. She jumped into his unexpecting arms that were quick to catch her as her legs wrapped around his wide but muscular frame.

“Babe!?”

“I’m pregnant!” Two words, it took just two words for Jake Seresins heart to implode in his chest. “We’re pregnant Jake we fucking did it!”

“You’re pregnant?” Jake never thought his heart could get any bigger, but he knew in that very moment his heart grew—it imploded and grew back twice the size it originally was to cater for the little life the two of them had created. “Are—are you sure?”

Amilia Fisher couldn’t be sure until she had a blood test done, but when the ten pregnancy test she took all from different brands came up as fat as fuck positives—she knew they couldn’t be lying. She was pregnant.

“I’m sure, I’m so sure Jake, we’re gonna be parents!”

Jake sat his wife back down on the ground but he never let her go. He kissed her with enough passion and love to have her heart fluttering inside her chest and her lungs burning with desire. His hands cupped her flushed with heat cheeks so she couldn’t pull away—and through the entire embrace, Amilia couldn’t stop smiling against her husband's lips.

“Holy shit we’re pregnant!” Jake let his forehead settle against his wife’s. “Oz, I love you so very much.”

“We’re gonna have a baby Seresin.” Amilia laughed as she ran the pad of her thumb across Jake's cheek. “Us, you and me, with a baby.”

“Half you half me huh.” Jaked cooed, he was over the moon. Amilia widened her eyes in response before she laughed, they were having the baby they had dreamed of having.

“Oh god what a combo—“

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“You’ll need to make an appointment with an OBGYN for an ultrasound at around six to eight weeks.” With a single blood test, the pregnancy that Jake and Amilia had been waiting for had been officially confirmed. “But congratulations, you are very much pregnant, Mrs Seresin.”

“You hear that Oz?” Jake cooed as he squeezed Amilias hand in the doctor's office. “Very pregnant.”

The two were keeping everything on the downlow, Amilia, albeit very excited and full of joy to finally experience her biggest wish—wanted to wait till she was out of the first trimester until her and Jake started telling the people closer to them. However, that didn’t stop Jake from telling you, his closest friend, his sister, his person.

“Amilias pregnant!?” You shouted down the phone. “Oh my god congratulations! How far along is she?”

“Uh—we just left the doctors office like five minutes ago, four weeks?” Jake looked over to where his wife sat in the passenger's seat, beaming at your reaction over the loudspeaker. “She’s here with me.”

“Oz! You’re pregnant oh my god!” You wanted to cry, Jake was going to be an amazing dad and Amilia was going to be the best mum. That kid was already so loved at conception. “I’m so happy for the two of you, I’m gonna have to tell Rooster you know that right?”

“I never thought this day would actually come but yeah, we’re pregnant.” Amilia reached out for her husband's hand before he brought it up to his lips. “And yeah, that’s fine, but don’t tell the cowboy alright I wanna tell Rhett myself.”

“So he can tell you that you’re an idiot?” You laughed as you sat in the livingroom at midnight, feeding little Nicky. Bradley was on a mission which left you outnumbered three to one.

“Yeah, but I know he cares.” Amilia and Rhett Abbott were quite close for two people who pretended like they couldn’t stand one another.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The happiness didn’t last for very long. Seven weeks into Amilias first and what would ultimately be last, something went wrong. The kitchen was buzzing with music as she chopped up a quick garden salad to go with dinner, sausages Jake was cooking on the barbecue. She hadn’t changed out of her pyjamas all day, and had barely gotten out of bed. But as six o’clock rolled around on Saturday afternoon, Amilia felt a little more like herself and hoisted herself up.

“Almost finished with these bad boys.” Jake called out over his shoulder through the window that led back into the kitchen, he could see his wife, the love of his life in the corner of his eye. “How’s that salad looking?”

“Diced and chopped daddio—“ Amilia teased as she flicked the rest of the cherry tomatoes off the chopping board into the bowl. “I’ve just gotta add the—“ Oh, that didn’t feel good.

“Add the what babe?” Jake thought he just didn’t hear what Amilia had said, he thought he had just missed the tail end of her sentence, but she’d stopped mid sentence at the feeling of her lower abdomen cramping, like a bad period pain. “Oz?” Jake frowned as he cut the gas and took the sausages off the hot plate.

“The cheese.” Amilia clenched her jaw as she tried to breathe through the pain, it only got worse with every breath she took. “I just have to add the—Ahh!” It felt like someone had stabbed a hot knife into her and had begun to drag the aerated edge across her body. “Ahh—“

“Amilia!” Jake had all but forgotten the tray of sausages he was carrying in when he saw his wife on the floor in a heap, curling into herself to try and stop the pain. “Hey, what’s wrong, hey—?”

Breathe, in out, in out. She was fine.

“Babe I can’t help if you don’t te—“ The blood told Jake all he needed to know before Amilia could even begin to get her words out. “Oh god—no.”

“Jake—“ Her husband's name was the only thing Amilia could will herself to speak as she saw the blood between her legs, seeping into her pyjama pants. The same pyjama pants she’d been in all day because she just hadn’t felt well. “I’m fine, we’re okay, we’re fine, we’re, aaahh—!”

Everyone needs just one person in their lives who say things like ‘You got this’ ‘I believe in you’ and ‘You will find courage and energy in yourself that you normally wouldn’t have had before.’

But more importantly, that person needs to also say the things that no one wants to hear. And if things were to go wrong? They would be there in the mud for whatever reason.

Jake was that person for Amilia Fisher-Seresin. He had the ability to say something’s wrong when she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

“Honey, I think we need to get you up to the hospital.” He had the ability to worry, to care and understand that something was horribly wrong and that there shouldn’t be this much blood or this much pain when it came to implantation bleeding and spotting. Amilia was having what Jake could only assume to be a miscarriage and all he could do in that moment was put his own feelings of grief and sorrow aside to help the only woman he’d ever truly loved. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

“No no no no no—“ Amilia cried as she bawled her fists into the cotton of Jake's t-shirt before her tears strained the white fabric. He could smell the iron in the air. “Jake—“ She sobbed. “Our baby, somethings wrong.”

“Let me take you to the emergency room sweetheart.” Jake had to hold his own tears back, this wasn’t what he pictured would happen when Amilia had told them they were gonna have a baby together. “Please? I have to make sure you’re alright baby, your bleeding and—“ Jake knew he had to say it. “You are what’s important right now, you and your health baby because I can lose that baby, I can deal with that grief but I can’t lose you both alright.” Jake felt his wife’s heart shattering as she screamed into his embrace right there on the kitchen floor. “I can’t lose you both alright so I need you to let me get you some help.”

Jake thought he was a pretty tough guy, but as his wife cried in his arms bleeding as she lost their baby on the kitchen floor, he knew he wasn’t strong enough to handle this without a support system. He needed you. He needed your strength and resistance and your determination and strength to get through this. He needed you to hold him up because his knees felt weak but he had to get up. He needed to be there for his wife through everything.

“I’m sorry—“ Amilia sobbed as Jake carried her out to the car koala style. He was going to be covered in blood but that didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered besides getting Amilia the care she needed. “I’m so sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong sweetheart.” Jake cooed. “Not a damn thing.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“We had to give her a sedative in order to examine your wife, Mr. Seresin.” Time was a fickle thing, it was neither here nor there. “She’s asleep, but for what’s it worth she’s incredibly lucky to be alive right now.” Jake could feel his phone ringing in his back pocket—you had been calling non-stop for updates ever since Amilia was taken back for an ultrasound to confirm what everyone already believed to be a miscarriage.

But he’d never remember just how he ended up standing outside his wife’s hospital room in oncology just four hours after he’d brought her into the emergency room. Jake hadn’t even had a chance to change his shirt.

“It’s critical—if we don’t get in there and operate soon, it’s hard to tell how much time she’ll actually have.” The Doctor didn’t sound like he was making any sense, Jake couldn’t process anything he was telling him. This didn’t make sense, none of it did.

“Ovarian cancer?” Jake tried to wrap his head around how his wife, how Amilia, could have ovarian cancer. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s aggressive, from the scans alone I’d say critical.” Again, nothing Doctor Thomas was saying made any sense to Jake. “Mr. Seresin, has your wife ever experienced any pain during intercourse? Painful cramps outside her normal period or—“

“Not that I’m aware of, no.” Jake knew Amilia like the back of his own hand, so the news of her diagnosis on the back of losing their child was far too much for him to handle. “What does she need? Treatment wise?”

“I can't say for certain without exploring her reproductive system more closely but if the ovaries are too far gone, we’re recommending a full hysterectomy.” Jake's brain was trying its best to compute all the little bits of information being given to him as he watched Amilia sleep. She looked as peaceful as she could be. “If the cancer is as aggressive as we believe it to be, if we leave behind any viable tissue it could spread–the miscarriage was a direct result of the tumours constricting her reproductive organs, it's a miracle she was able to convince to begin with.”

“We’d been trying for a year–” Jake explained softly, his entire world was crashing around him. All that he knew, all that he hoped for in the future was crumbling. “We had an appointment with a fertility specialist the month she fell pregnant, we never ended up going because we ended up pregnant.”

“I'm very sorry for your loss–” Doctor Thomas sympathised as he placed his hand on Jake's shoulder. The mullet kinda took away from the seriousness of his tone. “But I truly believe the miscarriage your wife suffered saved her life.” It was a take Jake never thought he’d have on such a horrid situation. “It would have killed her, she’s a very lucky woman, the blood she lost wasn't just from the miscarriage but from one of the worst ovarian torsions I’ve ever seen.”

There was so much blood, far too much blood for Jake to ever forget. He grew up on a farm, his uncle owned an abitur, he knew that humans held a lot of blood but when you physically see that much blood coming from someone you love it's hard to comprehend the magnitude of the destruction until after the fact.

“Your wife is scheduled for surgery earlier tomorrow morning, it's after visiting hours but given the circumstances i've already organised for a cot to be bright up so you can stay with her.”

“If you can't save her life without the hysterectomy, I want you to do it.” Jake nodded as he let a few stray tears fall down his cheeks. “Yeah–yeah if it's all or nothing just do it.” He pressed his lips into a fine line to try and stop his bottom lip from quivering. “But if there's even a slither of hope that you don't have to, please–just try and give her a chance, she wants to be a mum so bad.”

“I understand Mr. Seresin.” Doctor Thomas replied. “This isn't my first rodeo.”

“Unlucky for you.” Jake tried to chuckle as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It's mine.”

“Everyone I ever meet for these types of cases is their first, and if I can offer one piece of advice I’d say that there are other ways to be parents, adoption, foster care.” Doctor Thomas knew by the gaze in Jake's eyes that he was mentally checking out of the conversation. “Go be with your wife, i'll be by in the morning for post ops.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

By the time Amilia was coming to in her groggy and drugged out state, Jake had already had a good cry in the dark. The hospital room was dimly lit, Jake didn't want his wife to wake up to the harsh fluorescent lights. Hell he didn't want her to wake up in general. He wanted her to stay sleeping peacefully forever, blissfully unaware of the horrors that awaited her when she woke.

“Hey there Oz.” Jake cooed as he brushed Amilias hair from her face. “I've got you baby, I'm here.” It felt like time had stood still since she first screamed out in pain in the kitchen. Jake knew when he got home that ants would be everywhere from the sausages that had fallen from the tray he carried in and the salad you never put away. “Shhh i've got you Amilia, I’m here.”

“I lost our baby.” Amilia hadn’t even opened her eyes properly and she was already incredibly aware of the heaviness in her chest. The grief she felt inside her soul. “Jake–I lost our baby.”

“It's not your fault sweetheart.” Jake sat as close as he possibly could to his wife's bedside. “We lost our baby, I know, I know and it hurts, it hurts so much but Amilia, it's not so simple.” Jake had been dreading having this conversation, he didn't know how to tell his wife she was going in for surgery. That she was sick, that she had ovarian cancer and that they may have to perform a full hysterectomy just to save her life. “The doctors figured out why it took us so long to conceive.”

“It's me, isn't it.” It broke Jake's heart to nod, but that didn't mean he thought his wife was broken. “What's wrong with me?”

“You uh–” Jake couldn't stop himself from sobbing as he stood to climb into the hospital bed to hold his wife. “You're okay, that's the main thing okay, and you're gonna be fine once the surgery is over and I'm gonna be by your side through everything.”

“I just lost our baby, I don't think I'll ever be alright again.”

“You didn't lose our baby sweetheart, you have ovarian cancer–that's what caused the miscarriage, that's what, that's what stopped us from conceiving earlier.” Jake explained as simply and as slowly as possible as he held Amilia close to him and kissed her forehead. “Losing our baby saved your life.”

“Jake, I don't have cancer.” Amilia scoffed as she shrugged him off. “Why would you even say that right now?” Jake was caught between a rock and a hard place, he didn't know what to do or what to say. “What are you even talking about right now?” That's when it hit, Jake physically saw the moment Amilia was able to process what he had said. “Oh–” Her shoulders slumped as she settled back into him. “Oh no, no no no no I can't, I can't, I don't–”

“Shhh.” Jake cooed as he wrapped his wife back into his arms. “I'm here, I've got you, you're okay.” For everything the two had been through this was certainly about to be their biggest battle, but Jake Seresin was adamant that he would be there every step of the way. “Our baby saved your life, and I'll never be able to thank them enough.”

“How bad is it?” Amilia sobbed into Jake's chest. “The cancer? And be honest Jake, please dont lie to me.”

“It's bad enough.” Jake sobbed as he held Amilia closer than he ever had before. “I'm just grateful you're alive.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #terms of endearment // jake seresin #jake seresin x female oc #jake seresin whump #tw: miscarriage #tw: ovarian cancer

158 notes · View notes