Beach Weather - Sex, Drugs, Etc
𝔚𝔚𝔚
Celina
Rain pours, thunder echoes, and light strikes the darkness in split seconds.
The downpour outside doesn't stop, it brews a greater storm between him and I. One where the emptiness in place of what once was light proves to heighten all that lurks in the dark.
Danger. Chaos. Bad decisions.
His cologne roots me to my spot, his steady breath threatens my sanity and when he steps closer, it weakens my resolve.
I manage to speak. "What are you doing?" It's meant to be far angrier, but I can't help what the truth does to me.
He's one step closer, speaking low, "Nothing that you don't already want."
He's insane in his approach, but it's rather enticing. He's obsessive in his clinginess, but it's anything but a turn off. He's stalkerish in everything else, but his methods are oddly endearing.
He's twisted. A type of man he's made me realize I crave.
"Unless you're going to drop dead," I feel him near, and I know that if he touches me, I'll turn weak. "I don't want it."
He chuckles. In the dark it's easier to hear the hoarse edge to his tone, the way it floats out like a hum, scratchy in its foregin nature, yet soothing enough to sway my body towards his.
Yet another reminder of the horrid truth; Adrik Kozlov is my type and I fucking hate it.
The universe seems to share the hatred for in an instant, lights flicker on. They're dimmed, yellow lights, and fewer throughout the space, telling me the backup generators have kicked in. But nonetheless, it clears the danger we were headed towards.
Adrik's lips tighten, the sharp angles of his face dance with disappointment, while his fingers stop, inches from my face.
The only thing the light fails to take away is the irritability to his appeal.
Slightly damp from the rain, his shirt clings to his form, while his black hair sticks to his forehead.
Why'd he have to be so hot?
I shove him and walk away, only for him to call after me, "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm leaving this way," I don't look back at him, I walk towards the door, while motioning to the balcony for him. "You can go back the way you came." There's no way I'm willingly subjecting myself to that again.
Footsteps echo behind me, his low voice soon follows. "I'll come with."
That makes me pause just as I reach the closed door where tension coils my bones and forces me to face him.
He declared war mere hours ago. Every Italian wanted his blood and was now cleared to get it. He was an enemy on their soil. The hotel was the worst place to be. "Someone will see you."
"I'll manage." Vivid blue eyes flicker across my face, while his lips naturally tip to one side. "You're worried about me." His observation is so self assured, I force an eye roll. Yet I make no move to leave, or let him go through the doors.
While we aren't fans of the Italians, we're both smart enough to know that loyalty was a priceless virtue to them. They died for it, killed for it, and crossed any and every line in the name of it.
Adrik may not have feared them, but a part of me. A small, tiny part of me feared what they'd do to him if they found him here, alone.
Alessio Galanti wouldn't be so kind as to let him walk away this time. He'd taken his fathers mob and built it into an empire. And as much as it pained me to admit, he was not an easy kill nor was he an easy feat. If he was, Adrik would have taken him out long ago.
"We don't have to leave." Suggestion sits heavy in his tone, while contemplation stirs mine.
Suddenly his proximity is toxic in its effects. So much so it makes me want to act out irrationally. Like fold at his feet.
"Whatever." my fingers brush the knife tucked into my side pocket, almost in consdieration while my hand curls around the door handle. Every fiber of my being votes against opening the door, but my stupid, stupid ego risks it all. "If you die, it's not my fault-"
The words thrown over my shoulder at him die when I sense a presence ahead of me. I stop the door enough for half my body to show while I glance at the two men. One I recognize, the other I don't.
Instinctually, I tighten my hand on the knob, and feel the need to get rid of them. "What do you want?"
Luca's face tightens, while he lifts his phone screen. I recognize the foreign number and don't even bother to read what it says. "We got an anonymous tip a certain Russian was here."
Metal cools my hand until I'm squeezing the handle so hard it threatens to break. "I have no idea what your talking about." My pointed stare goes to Luca. "Leave."
I didn't hate the guy, he was harmless. But I wouldn't hesitate to ruin his life if he did something I didnt like.
I didn't like where this was headed.
A man appears behind them, and then another and with each new Italian face crowding in the hallway, my stomach drops, until he speaks in a tone that tells me hes forcing every bit of his confiendece. "Is your ex husband in there?"
I don't look behind me, I don't even hesitate in my lie. "No-"
Cold fingertips brush mine holding the door, and the heat of his body engulfs mine from behind, so much so that he pries the door open further, and speaks as though he's impartial to the dozen men here for him. "We're still happily married." Adrik Kozlov has the audacity to sound peeved.
Meanwhile I have the sudden urge to scream until I'm granted a reverse button.
"Not for long." The bulk of my annoyance turns to Luca who's suddenly grown the balls to speak so confidently because he's got Adrik outnumbered. Unfairly so.
I turn to Adrik and force indifference but it's hard when this all could have been avoided had he not gotten an anonymous tip, or had I not been such an emotional wreck. "Your sister's a real bitch." She knew we were coming, and snitched just because.
Adrik returns my indifference with a raised brow. "You have no idea."
"Get my girl out of the way." The statement comes from Luca, who looks at me, but speaks to the man behind him.
My eyes narrow at his deliberate choice of words.
Despite his order, I fear the sudden anger oozing off the man behind me more.
I don't have time to laugh at his statement, or tourment him into a pit of embarasssment. Not when I realize there are two of us and thirteen of them. "You do this, and I react." My warning is not lost on him or the men behind him.
If they wanted Adrik's blood, they had to do it without spilling mine. Only problem is, I wouldn't let him go down without a fight.
Luca ignores my warning when he smiles at me in a manner that disregards my words completely. "You'll thank me one day, when he's gone and we're married."
I realize what he's doing. Why he's taking about me as if he means anything.
He's baiting Adrik. Trying so desperatly to get a reaction out of him. Luckily, he's smart enough to know that and take the high road-
The door flies open, and in a complete rush of madness, said smart man lauches himself at the group of thirteen men, the brute of his anger directed at the one who'd made the stupid fucking comment.
Are you fucking kidding me?
The rioting chaos is instantious.
The men launch themsleves at Adrik, while he uses his build to his advantage and brushes them off, landing hit after hit to Luca's face.
But eventually, I loose him in the riot, when the brute of twelve trained men gets to be too much for him to handle. The realisation that he won't be able to fight them all off for much longer makes my heart drop to the pit of my stomach and I have the sudden urge to hurl.
And that thought, of him, not fucking making it out sends me reeling. And by then, it's like a natural instict.
I throw myself directly into the madness. Taking one man at a time, but there's nothing slow about my movements.
They're frantic, angry, and so filled with rage, I scare even myself.
It's a blood bath. One my knife dips in and out of with each man it impales, until I catch sight of him in all his dark glory.
He's still got somewhat of an upper hand, but there's all too fast for him to reach for his weapon.
They've got numbers, he's got skill.
Six men lay dead at my hands, four at his, while he dodges hits from two others. Instincts drag my eyes across the room to Luca, who's so badly beaten, he's unrecognisable.
Yet still alive and strong enough to reach for his gun. I run when he takes his aim, and just as he shoots, my arm snaps his to the wall, and I watch the bullet fly into a nearby wall, inches from Adrik.
Luca's gun falls to the ground, he soon follows
with a cry of pain and it's only when he looks up at me that he begins pleading for his life. "Please dont."
"I told you," I step on his arm, bone crushes beneath my foot, before I move to his head. "I react."
He's dead with a single kick of my foot, while Adrik soon appears at my side, staring between at the dead man and I, his voice heavy. "Are you hurt?"
"Barely." I pant, wiping splatters of blood from across my face with the back of my hand. I glance behind us to the bodies lying across the ground.
He'd killed them and when I study his form next to mine, I realize he'd done it without so much as a weapon.
Bruises begin to form on his pale skin, while blood drips from a cut above his brow, but the man stands with the confidence he always does. "Are you?" I ask.
The men hadn't fought back when I'd attacked, how could they when Silvio had made it clear I was off limits. Adrik wasn't exempt from that violence.
He looks at me, his eyes scan my face while his response is distracted. "I'll survive."
I don't like the way he's looking at me. It makes my face feel hot and my cheeks threaten to redden. As though he sees something I'm hiding.
I look away, breaking off his scrutiny.
He lets me and reaches for his gun, one that'd been untouched until this moment. He fires one lone bullet to the already dead man below us in the face, and I blink at the violation in complete surprise.
"What was that for?"
"He once got your laugh." He slips his gun behind his back, his tone casual but eyes piercing. As though he's downplaying how much it bothers him. "I wanted to get even."
I'm far beyond twisted, purely insane because my first thought is to smile at him. My second is to laugh at how special that makes me feel. My third is to kiss him.
I do none of the above.
Adrenaline soon fades, and the fear that'd motivated all this squeezes my chest.
I'd been terrified, not of getting hurt, not of getting shot, but of loosing him.
My lips part to speak, say something that'll distract us both from the tension filling the space, but I can't think of anything to say.
Not when he takes all my attention.
Adrik moves around the room, and in the dimmed light, pushes the dead bodies from the hall into the room.
There's a slight strain to his movements, a certain fatigue. The gash on his forehead is larger than I'd first thought, his jaw looks sore, but it's his hands that gather all my attention.
Bare. Knuckles bruised and bloodied.
My resolve, gone and weak is at fault for what I do next.
His hand feels large, but warm in mine, and he doesn't even protest when I lead him out of the room and into the left stairwell of the hotel.
He follows behind, quietly and it's only when we've reached the door to the thirteenth floor and I've fetched my key from my pocket that he speaks.
"You saved my life." The statements more a skeptical observation.
I pull him into the room that spans the entire floor. The place boasts a kitchen, a large living area, an exposed bedroom, with an oversized bathroom. Yet he manages to make such a big space feel confined with his overwhelming presence.
My hands let's go of his, while I kick the door shut and slip off my shoes. "Only because I still need you to sign the divorce papers."
He gazes right through the lie with a smile and a step forward. "You saved my life."
"And now I'm regretting it." It's an utter lie, while his statement carries far more meaning than anything else he's said to me. I saved his life, not because I had to, because I wanted to.
And when his scrutiny becomes uncomfortable, I push past him and further into the place that I'd once called home.
"The bathrooms over there." I point to the door across my bed, knowing he's itching to clean himself. "You can shower in there."
My need for a distraction takes me to the kitchen sink where I wash my hands, my knife, but just as the last of the soap vanishes into the stream of water, I feel him from behind, and I see his arms on either side of mine, that is until he begins to wash his hands.
His chest at my back roots my legs still, while his steady breathing at the shell of my ear threatens them to collapse.
He washes his hands a total of three times, and I watch, hypnotized by the sight of the veins trailing his forearm down to his hands.
There's an intimacy to the action, a spark strong enough to cause an explosion or light a dwindling fire.
Eventually, I turn around, but the sight that greets me is no better. "Are you going to shower?" I drag, indifferent.
He plants his hands on the counter, his fingers brushing past my hips, resting on the marble, dangerously close to my ass.
His face hovers above mine, while his eyes speak a million truths. "Can I get a kiss first?"
My willingness to give him just that terrifies me.
I snap out of it soon though.
"Sit down." I breathe, tilting my head and examine the cut above his brow. "I think you might have a concussion for ever thinking that'll work."
He doesn't move, I do it for him. Pushing him across the room, into a chair at my kitchen table.
He complies, I find the first aid kit and when I return to his side with an alcohol wipe, he pulls me between his legs.
Dangerous. What I'm doing promises nothing but mistakes but like a masochist, I can't resist.
I tilt his head up to stop the bleeding, and begin cleaning the dried blood. Forcing my mind anywhere but where it sits, filled with thoughts of him.
He doesn't make it easy for me. Not when he speaks, breaking the tranquility. "No one was suppose to shoot at you." His voice is low, hoarse. "The woman who did, defied my orders."
I figured it was the blonde haired Russian minion of his. The one I'd met the day they kidnapped me. He merely confirms my suspicions. "She's salty I killed her boyfriend back when we first met."
"It doesn't matter now."
He doesn't need to finish the sentence, his insinuation is clear enough.
She's dead now.
I bet he'd killed her.
Fingers tremble against skin, yet he doesn't flinch. Not even as I press a new alcohol pad to his would. He stares at me and the weight of it makes me feel like i'm drowning. "Why'd you take the blame for Mateo's death?"
His response is nothing but a hum, "Because I killed him."
I let the weight of his words settle in my gut, but they pierce through my heart and squeeze so tight I need air.
"You know what I mean." I was already taking the blame, regardless of if he did it or not. It was my mistake, and I'd bear the consequences.
It made no logical sense for him to intervene. He wouldn't gain anything from it.
"Because I wanted to." Even in the dimmed light his blue eyes pierce the air as they find mine. He doesn't say it, doesn't need to for me to feel it.
I swallow thickly, my voice hoarse and raw as I finish up and step back. "Why'd you start a war?"
I wait for him to say it was in his plan. The righting timing.
"Because I took the blame." He sits before me, bruised and bloodied yet so content, there isn't a doubt in my mind that he'd do it all again.
The realization pits a ball of shame in my gut and while I didn't make a habit of blaming myself, this was entirely my fault.
"I'm-" I flicker my eyes away from his face and to the ground. "Sorry."
"I don't regret it." He stands, lifting my chin up in the process. "Neither should you."
I didn't deserve what he was doing for me. I wasn't that kind of special. Yet the way he looks at me tells me differently. It tells me he wants nothing than to
Kiss me.
I want it more.
But self preservation turns my head from his. Until he's so fed up with my push and pull he can do nothing but pull away and walk to the bathroom.
I sense his frustration. Good.
I deserved it.
I was being stubborn, immature, emotional.
But as I catch his gaze before he shuts the door, I see his patience.
The lock doesn't turn.
The silence of it echos. Like an open invitation.
One I shouldn't take. Yet one I contemplate anyways.
I couldn't give in to him. It'd go against everything I believed in. Everything I stood for.
I didn't forgive and forget.
But I do want him.
Badly. Really, really badly.
I glance at the bathroom door in contemplation of what to do next.
It's a dangerous impulse, a chaotic thought.
Nothing but bad decision.
I do it anyways.
My clothes come off before I make it to the bathroom, they fall to the floor, nothing but a messy path to trouble while the door opens in welcome of it.
My shower is large, tucked behind a corner meaning I see him before he does me and I can't help but stare when I catch sight of him.
Tall, lean and muscular beyond belief. Every inch of skin dips, sits firm and perfectly while he stands with his back to me. His head dips to catch the shower head, and it's only when he senses me, that he straightens out.
I don't know what to say.
I opt for silence. Choosing to ignore him. He chooses to watch, as though speaking could break the spell.
It's a push and pull. For my every action, He gives a possessive reaction.
I step in front of him and grab the shampoo. He steps back, not far enough to give me space, but enough for the shower to wet me.
I lather shampoo into my hair. He buries his fingers into my scalp and kneads.
I dampen my sponge with soap and scrub my body clean. He shoves my hands away and uses his instead.
I eventually sink back into him. He lets me.
Rough to smooth, his fingers drag along my skin, nails scrape sensitive flesh while his touch lingers anywhere and everywhere.
My back, my shoulders, he even drops down behind me to get my legs and feet. I watch him when he gets to my waist, and catch the cut and bruised skin on his knuckles as he works his way down my stomach. "You threw yourself into a fist fight with no gloves." I murmur.
He's silent, before his words vibrate with the weight of his chest at my back. "I really fucking hated him."
My smile gets lost in the steam of the shower, "What about me?" While the heat lowers my voice to a whisper. "Do you hate me?"
He dips his head, his lips finding my ear in the downpour, while his hands brush over my hard nipples. "Sometimes."
I sigh into his touch, "And the other times?"
One hand trails down, the other kneads my breast. "I just think about fucking you like I hate you."
My head falls back onto his shoulder with a moan. Hot water pours down my front, burning a path down my sternum to where his hand buries between my legs.
His fingers merely trail my slit. Back and forth. Slow and steady, while an ache forms for more and more.
"Is this what you wanted when you walked in here?" Despite the heat, his low voice sends goosebumps across my skin.
I shake my head.
He rubs slow circles around my clit before using the hand at my chest to grab my chin and tilt it up to him. "Say it, then." There's a challenge to his words, a taunt, but beneath it all lies a need for my confessions.
Once again, I shake my head.
He tries to pull his hand away, I grab his wrist and hold him between my legs. And when I realize he won't give me what I want until I give him what he wants, my voice is no longer complicit and airy. "Fine. Maybe."
"There she is." A dazed smirk makes its way onto his face. He's still got my head tilted up at him, only now, he uses his grip to watch my face when he suddenly eases a finger into me. It's soon followed by a second, and finally, a third.
My lips part in protest. His fingers tighten on my chin, while his others continue to push into me. "Take it."
The pinch of discomfort is worth the dark satisfaction on his face as he watches me, and it's even more worth it when pleasure blooms in its place. So immense I can't breathe right.
His fingers sink in and out of me. They curl, reaching places that make me cry out every curse in the book of our sins and Adrik simply watches. Basking in my moans, my pleas and my broken words.
I'm completely at his mercy, so compliant in his arms that I can't help the way my hips move for more, grinding into his hand like he's all I want.
He drags his eyes down to his fingers buried between my legs and a low satisfied grunt echos, "Ride them, baby." I bury my head into his shoulder, while my legs shake at his hoarse whisper. "Ride them."
He doesn't stop until he's coaxing an orgasm from me. One that sends me into a reality where nothing but pleasure exists. A world where it's him and I.
I'm shaking against him by the time I come down, but he wraps an arm around me and draws me into him, using his hold today me further under the spray.
"It's been too long since I've seen you come for me." His lips trail down, to the skin below my ear, and when he speaks in that low baritone, it shakes me to my core.
"Cant say the same." It takes all my energy to stand upright and turn to face him but I'm rewarded with the sight of his dark hair matted to his forehead, lashes wet and cheeks flushed as he looks at me with eyes that devour.
He wets his lower lip, no doubt letting his mind wander to the dirtiest of places with my insinuation, "Were you at least thinking of me when you did?"
My default is a no. But the heaviness in the steam pits desire to my core and I suddenly want him to know that I thought of him. When I thought of him. "Maybe."
He steps into me, again and again until I'm pushed up against the wall and he's nested every inch of himself against mine, while his erection sits between us.
Hard and so prominent.
His voice roughens around the edges, ebbing at his restraint, "Are you saying that you think of me when you touch yourself, Celina?"
He says my name like no one else can.
I can't help but fall into his charm with my own. "Sometimes."
He tilts his head, "And the other times?"
I know it's a bad idea, but I seal our fate anyways. It's a simple phrase, delivered innocently, "I think of how you fuck me."
His head drops to mine, while his palm wraps around my throat, holding me in place. "Let me kiss you and I'll remind you how I fuck you," his nose nudges mine, while desperation cracks his resolve, "Please."
He doesn't wait for my response, his lips just find mine.
And the soft touch of need is all it takes for me to melt completely and utterly into him. He kisses me delicately, until he doesn't.
His lips steal my breath while his tongue sucks the last bit of my oxygen into a moan, one he swallows.
He squeezes my throat, as though he wants even more, but I give him everything until he's so deeply engrained, he's forever engraved onto my lips.
My hands roam, his hands lower until they knead my ass and lift me off the ground, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist.
He devours me in a manner that has me wanting to give more and more, while his hands roam in a manner that makes me want him everywhere.
We kiss until the water runs cold. Until I shiver, panting in his arms. And finally, until he drops me onto my unmade bed, and stands at the foot of it.
Water glides down his broad chest, while a million little scars glisten, proving to be nothing but reminders of how he'd fought for his power, and won every single time.
While the spark in his eyes makes me feel like I'm the prize.
A single phrase echos under his breath as he looks at me. "Moya." (Mine)
Rough and so beautifully simple from his lips, I echo it. "Moya."
His fingers brush the skin of my ankle, while he lifts my foot up and kisses the arch of my foot. "Say it again." I feel his smile hidden beneath my foot, but he distracts me when he trails his lips up to my ankle.
"Make me."
He's on me in an instant, disregarding my leg and instead, hovering above me. His hand returns to my throat, while his lips find my ear. "You're annoying."
With a smile, I trail my hand down between us and run my nails over the thick veins of his erection. "And yet it still makes you hard."
He shudders. "Do that again."
I do it again.
He groans in my ear. "Now, spread your legs and take me to where you want me, baby."
The place I want him clenches so hard, I know he can feel me pulsing when he squeezes my neck almost impatiently.
My legs fall apart, and my hands drag his tip across my slit until he wets my entrance. "Oh-" he nudges forward but it's enough to make me stretch. "Fuck."
Slowly, Adrik sinks into me, inch by painful inch, until I'm hissing between moans.
He kisses me softly before tipping his head down to watch himself. "That's it," He rubs the junction of my inner thigh with his thumb, while praises float between his heavy pants.
He tells me to relax for him. He calls me his good girl when I do. And when I squeeze around his length, he tells me I feel so good it hurts.
My nails drag up his back, so deeply embedded into his skin, it'll bruise.
"Moya." The grip around my throat loosens and floats down to my chest, where he squeezes my breast in his palm before dipping his head and dragging his lips over it. "Say it again," his hoarse command does nothing to help the desire burning beneath his hands.
He circles his hips, my head falls back and I repeat the word without so much as a fight. "Moya."
"Tvoy." This time he pulls his length out an inch and slowly eases it back inside, grinding his hips into mine, while he sucks a nipple into his mouth and pulls away, leaving it wet and needy. "Say it." (Yours)
Strained in his movements, he finds an ounce of relief when he pulls out and thrusts into me.
My nipples ache, and in an attempt for an ounce of relief, I lift my hand to my breast, only before I can touch myself like I want him to, he grabs my hands and holds them down on either side of my head.
Like shackles bonding me in place, his hands tighten and threaten my resolve. So much so I gasp and comply. "Tvoy."
I don't know what it means, but he rewards me with the wet glide of his tounge across my nipple before he sucks it into his mouth.
He fucks me slowly, yet it's deep and so sensual I know I won't last for much longer.
But he's not nearly done when he continues speaking in that throaty, crazed voice. "Now, say my name."
I have a death wish. "Adriko." I moan his name, he doesn't like it very much.
His next thrust slams into me, so hard I gasp and manage to mumble out what he wants. "Adrik."
His thrusts intensify, while his fingers thread through mine. "I can't hear you."
He drags his lips up until he's at my throat, sucking and pulling my skin between his teeth, while he fucks me at a pace that makes me delirious. "Adrik." It's a moan, one I breathe into his ear.
"That's my girl." He murmurs, sucking on my damp skin. My legs tighten around his waist, and I cling onto him, grinding into his every thrust.
He lifts up and pants against my lips, "I fucking missed you."
I smile against his. "I know."
Teeth sink into my bottom lip, they're not mine, "You like when I suffer, yeah?"
"Yeah."
He chuckles, it's dark and promises nothing good. Especially not when he trails his hands down and softly lifts my knees until they rest on my chest. "I like when you scream."
He earns himself a scream when he pulls out and pushes himself back into me. His entire length, at an angle that hits so deep I stop breathing.
Barely getting my bearings back as he pounds into me so hard, I can only lay there and pant, cry and scream.
It's torture and grace at the same time. A painful pleasure I can't help but get lost in.
My eyes roll, my body jerks as he fucks me so hard, I can't help but fall.
"Open your eyes." His nose nudges mine, while his words sharpen. "Look at me when I fuck you."
I flicker my gaze to his, "Good girl." He murmurs, a soft grunt spilling from his lips with every thrust, "How's this feel?"
Like I won't be able to walk after this.
"Like...." My muscles contract and twitch in ecstasy while his groans and obvious signs of pleasure feed into mine. "Like... I'm gonna come."
He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my palm, then my wrist, before peppering kisses all over my body.
Soft and sweet, while his hips jerk into mine with a ruthlessness that rivals any trace of softness.
Until finally, he's back at my mouth and speaking with a single command. "Go ahead."
I come with a cry, he swallows it into his mouth with a deep groan.
He kisses me deeply, fucking me twice as hard. And it's only when I can't take any more that he begins to loose it.
"Celina." Raw and hoarse, his muscles strain, while he buries his head into my neck and shudders. "Baby-fuck."
A string of Russian follows, but I'm focused on the warmth that spreads inside me when he finishes.
It's a rush that leaks between us, filling the silence with heavy breaths and the smell of what we'd just done.
I don't realize my wrists are sore until he soothes the sting with his fingers, rocking his hips slowly against mine, dragging out a euphoria that feels like it's going to kill me.
I can't move, even after he pulls out and stands. I lay there, completely spent and exhausted, listening to his heavy breathing as he wets a wash cloth and cleans me up.
Time stretches and I'm half asleep when he returns to the bed, pulling me to his side, where I comply, resting my head atop his chest.
"I'm gonna be so sore." Reality might be worse, but it all fades when I'm in his arms.
I forget the rest of what I want say, nor do I hear his response.
The steady beat of his heart is too loud of a force. One that lulls me into a sleep so deep I dream of hands playing with my hair and lips at my temple.
𓆩❤︎𓆪
Thoughts?
I was craving smut. communication had to wait😔
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Guys I'm taking an English course bc I haven't taken an essay course in uni yet, and i wanted to try to better my writing, but English majors are fr a different breed.
No one takes notes, the prof literally just talks and uses the responses from the students to lead the class. And the students are fr psychologists
I shit u not the first day of class my prof asks a question about dystopias vs utopias and while I'm searching what the fuck each of them means (on low brightness), the girl next to me answers with "We're all victims of our society and then proceeds to come up with a philosophical thesis on individualism on the spot😭.
The thing is everyone else in the class is the same way 😭 like what? How?
I'm so torn I want to stay in the class bc I wanna better my writing but maybe I should stick to stem courses.
Plus I literally cannot do the readings. Like even if they're popular books that I'd like. Something about reading for school is so hard
Anyways sorry I'm not as active. My life has been so stressful istg winter months are always the worst 😭 ANYWAYS ILY TY FOR READING❤️