#I MIGHT draw a cover for this fic one day

[ell-arts]

Summary: She knew that she should’ve done something. She should’ve stepped in sooner, to open her eyes and stop the bullying. She was at fault as much as everybody else was. She was guilty.

And yet, he forgave her.

[sysig]

Finally made it through (Patreon)

[ssahotchnerr]

👉🏼👈🏼 is it ok to request a fic where jack starts trying to take care of the reader the way he sees his dad does? like maybe hotch is away from a case and reader gets sick or sad or idk, so jack takes it upon himself to be there for reader? like maybe he even starts referring reader with the same pet name hotch calls her? tysm!

like dad does

aw 🥹 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of sickness, fluff <3

you awoke with a gentle start; a trail of cold water trickling down the side of your face, pooling vaguely in your ear.

likewise, a more concrete sensation was set on your forehead - a cold compress. most likely a washcloth, and one that hadn't been wrung out too much at that.

but it was relieving, a delightful contrast from your burning forehead.

"oops," a small mumble came directly from your left ear, as well as a soft exhale of a breath. "sorry."

"jack?" you muttered, rather drowsily. you forced your eyes open, finding jack's sweet, concerned face beside you. "what're you doing?"

"i'm taking care of you." he explained softly, his tone so nonchalant as if it were the most obvious and simplest thing in the world. he reached forward, adjusting the top of the blanket that was draped overtop you. "like dad does. he put the washcloth on you yesterday, you 'member?"

he was right; you were on day two, maybe three? of a nasty bout of the flu. quite honestly you didn't know what day it was, they all blurred together, and your scattered sleep schedule didn't help. you offered him a nod.

"thank you." you gave him a small, closed mouth smile. if it weren't for the germs, you'd reach out to touch his cheek. you sat up a bit from your position in bed, your voice hoarse. "where is your dad?"

"a meeting."

your eyebrows furrowed, the facial movement burning your sinuses. "he's home?"

jack nodded, "he's in his office, but he said it might take a long time. so that's why i'm helping you feel better."

his face brightened a bit, as if a realization struck him. he reached into his pant's pocket, retrieving a few cough drops he had shoved in there, dropping them onto your blanket covered chest.

"i'm sorry i can't make you soup." jack apologized, solemnly as his shoulders dropped. "but i'm not allowed to use the stove."

your face softened, the weak smile resurfacing. "that's okay bud, don't worry. you can help dad make some later when he's done, how 'bout that?"

he nodded enthusiastically, before hoisting himself onto your bed.

"hey no no no, i wouldn't," you protested gently, your heart also melting at his action. "i don't want you getting my germs."

"if i get sick i get sick." that's the same thing aaron had said, multiple times, when he insisted on getting into bed with you earlier. jack scooted somewhat close, staying mainly on his father's side of the bed.

"and if i get sick, i don't need to go to school."

you laughed softly, but finding yourself too weak to argue, you did the only thing you could - go right back to sleep.

it was restless; you were in and out of slumber, and could roughly process jack getting up here and there - solely due to the distant sensation of the washcloth leaving and returning to your forehead, dampened once more.

and once aaron's meeting had ceased, he went in to check on you, and was pleasantly surprised, and touched, to see jack accompanying you.

you were out, with jack diligently watching over, while also keeping himself busy - his sketchbook and colored pencils were scattered amongst the bed.

"how's it going?" aaron asked him from the doorway, the door producing a sharp creak as he pushed it forward a tad.

"good. i brought cough drops, the washcloth, and made sure she got lots of rest. just like you did." jack continued to draw as he spoke, before his head shot right up. "can we make soup?"

"sure buddy," aaron nodded, a tinge of pride pulling at his heart. he tilted his head towards the hallway, and jack immediately scrambled off the bed. "c'mon."

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

[daydaydayrk420]

So I decided to write out this ask I sent as a test subject

Logan Howlett X male reader

⚠️somnophilia, bottom Logan, male reader, marking and toys, smut⚠️

🚨Minors or girls do not interact 🚨

This is my first fic so bear with me

I cannot find the gif of Logan waking up for the life of me

_________________________________________________

It's midnight. Y/n has just gotten home from work. He's pent up after a long frustrating day at work. One of his colleagues has been walking on a thin line of Y/N's nerves.

Y/n unlocks the front door of his and Logan's house. He's greeted with silence. Logan must be asleep. Y/n sighs. He needs release. He needs it bad. He kicks off his shoes, drops his bag, and heads towards the kitchen.

He pours himself a glass of whiskey and stares at the pictures of him and Logan they have on their walls. Y/N's mind started wandering.

"You've been coming home late." Logan grunts tiredly as he lazily bounces around Y/N's cock. Y/n chuckles as he rests his hands behind his head. "I can't do much about that pup." He said as he watched the older man bounce with all his might. "I can't keep up with you like this..." Logan huffs. His poor legs are already shaking even though they just got started. Y/n caresses Logan's thighs. "You're doing so well." Logan whines at the praise.

"You can use me in my sleep." Logan whimpered out as he collapsed on top of y/n after his legs gave out. "When... When you come back from work... And I'm asleep... You can have me..." Logan panted as his body shook with climax and tiredness. Y/n caresses his lover's back to soothe him to sleep. "I'll keep that in mind pup."

Y/n finishes his whiskey and heads to the bedroom. He doesn't bother with being quiet, Logan sleeps like a dead man. As y/n opens the door he's invited with a beautiful sight. Logan is spread out on his belly on the bed. Naked. Snoring quietly with barely any coverage. The thin hole-filled sheets do nothing to cover Logan's hairy form. It's just a corner of the sheets covering his plum hairy ass. Y/n chuckles and closes the door.

Y/n takes his time undressing as his eyes trail over Logan's god-built body. Logan mumbles from time to time but stays deep asleep. Y/n grabs the lube from his nightstand so he can prep his boyfriend. Even though Logan likes it more when it hurts because it stimulates him.

Y/n climbs into the bed and removes the sheets that didn't even cover Logan properly. He traced Logands back softly as he enjoyed the sight. He holds the lube with one hand and spreads his cheeks with the other. To his surprise, Logan's already prepared. Y/n chuckles to himself and uses the lube to lube himself up instead.

Logan grunts as the cold air touches his wet ring or muscle. It seems fresh. It was as if he prepped and fell asleep shortly before Y/n came home. Y/m hums and spreads Logan's legs with his knee. He lifts his hips and puts a pillow under them so it's easier and more comfortable. Without hesitation, y/n pushed in. He groans and rests his forehead on Logan's back.

"You're being so good for me Logan. " Y/n murmured as he started moving with slow thrusts. Logan grumbled in his sleep and shifted a bit but stayed deep asleep. Soon y/n sped up his thrusts. Logan whimpered as he started to meet his lover's thrusts in his sleep. Y/n kisses and bites any spot on Logan's neck he can reach. Any time he bites down hard enough to draw blood he pulls back just to watch it heal within seconds. Logan's healing factor is a frustrating addition for his lover who so desperately loves marking him. Logan doesn't mind it though, if it means his boyfriend will be rougher with him then Logan is more than happy to be a blood canvas.

Logan lets out a specificaly high whine signaling y/n has found the right spot. Y/n smirks and goes harder, aiming for that bundle of muscle with every thrust he gives. He knows that even when Logan is asleep he wants to be marked. Even when it doesn't last. Y/n bites down on Logan's shoulder and licks up any blood that has spilled.

Logan arched his nack and let out an animalistic groan that turned into a whimper as y/n tugged at his hair to pull him up and hold him against his chest. "You like that? You like it like this? Hm?" Y/n grunts as he talks into Logan's ear. He wonders what Logan dreams of when all of this is happening. Logan only lets out a loud whine. His angry red cock bounces with each hard thrust. Poor thing is leaking so much that his bush is getting wet too.

Logan unconsciously squeezed around y/n. He's close. Y/n drops him back onto the bed and lifts his hips again for rougher pounding. Logan's mouth falls open and loud whimpers and whines stumble out without control. Y/n's getting close too. Logan whimpers as he cums over the pillow and sheets under his hips. Y/n helps him through it as he chases his own climax. Logan's claws have shot out and pierced the pillows. A bunch of feathers fly around them and y/n curses under his breath about having to buy another pillow again.

Logan's body quivers as he whimpers as he feels y/ns teeth still in his shoulder. With a couple last thrusts y/n collapses on top of Logan with a loud grunt as he fills him up. They lay there like that for a while until y/n gains the energy to lift himself up again. With a soft groan, he lifts himself up and reachers towards Logan's nightstand drawer to pull out a simple silver buttplug that has an X carved into the end. He slowly pulls out making sure none of the cum spills out and puts the plug in so Logan can know what happened in the morning. After that y/n cleans them up and flops down next to his lover and pulls him close.

In the morning Logan wakes up to an empty bed. Y/n must've gone to work already. He groans and rubs his face. He is unaware of what happened last night... That's until he sits up and feels the familiar feeling of a plug inside him. He chuckles to himself and reaches down. Yup. That's a buttplug alright. His cock twitches at the thought of what happened last night. He grumbles and takes himself into his hand and lays back.

Logan came at least four times that morning all for just the thought of what y/n did last night.

[lovebugism]

Hi! Could I pls request a Steve x shy!reader drabble? Maybe they’re a bit of a bookworm and they have a meet cute at a library or bookstore or something ☺️ I love your fics, and I hope you’re having a good day! 💛

i've been working on this wip for ages but i loved this request too much not to finish! thanks for being patient with me anon!

summary: steve hopeless romantic harrington meets shy!reader at a bookstore and fluffy awkwardness ensues (meet cute, strangers to lovers-ish, fluff, 2.1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Five hours go by like minutes, tucked away in the back of the library — your own little corner of the world. 

Because all your spare cash went to groceries and good food (and the newest Margaret Atwood novel just dropped), you hide in the back of the bookstore and get lost in the nostalgic earthy scent of the thick pages you’ve been waiting ages to read. 

You sit between the dystopian and gothic fiction aisles, back propped against the former with your knees folded to your chest, and speed-read as much as you can before closing.

The in-store café offers complimentary coffee and bagels. It’s lukewarm and a little cardboard-y, but it’s fuel nonetheless. You only get up once to use the bathroom and stretch your stiff limbs. Other than that very brief break, you’re relatively unbothered — until page 196, anyway.

“Where are the porno mags?” a male voice wonders from a few aisles down. It’s not the first voice you’ve heard all day, but it’s certainly the closest.

A feminine voice follows, nearer now. “There’s no porn, dingus. I was just saying that so you’d drive me here.”

“…That’s so fucked up.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“No, actually. I won’t. This might be the end of our friendship, now that I think about it.”

Their conversation draws closer and closer to you in time with their nearing footsteps. You figure they must be looking for a different section — certainly not the one you’ve had to yourself all day — but then they turn the corner of the aisle and stop short when they find you sitting there.

“Oh,” a pretty girl hums as she stares down at you, rouge mouth forming a softly pouted ‘o’ shape. 

Her hair is a sandy color, like a beach, and it’s chopped at her shoulders. She wears a pair of slacks and suspenders over an oversized button-up. She looks like a character from a book you wish you could write. 

She smiles down at you, a tad bit awkwardly. “Hello…”

“Shit— ” you curse, scrambling to get your legs out of the aisle. Your face burns as you bring your knees back to your chest. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries,” she shrugs and walks on by you. 

A pretty boy follows.

His hair is a really specific shade of brown — like chocolate syrup mixed with honey. It’s pushed back over his forehead, messy with intention. A few strands hang over his thick brows like they’re meant to be there. He’s got a layer of scruff on his chiseled jaw that’s a shade lighter than his actual hair. 

His wide eyes are a similar chocolate-syrup-honey color.

He’s almost annoyingly pretty. The kind of pretty that seems unfair.

“Don’t apologize to her,” the pretty boy jokes with a lopsided smile. “She’s a total bully.”

The pretty girl interjects. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot. And stop bothering her, dingus— she’s obviously trying to read.”

You breathe out an awkward laugh through your nose. 

You don’t want them to think you’re actually annoyed, but you don’t have the words to tell them that. You have no idea what to say to them, actually. They’re obviously far cooler than you are, and the notion almost threatens you.

The pretty boy doesn’t follow his pretty friend. He lets her roam the aisle, obviously in search of something, and leans against the gothic fiction section across from you.

“So, uh… What are you reading?” he asks.

You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, lest the words get stuck in your throat and make you sound like Kermit the Frog. You flash him the dystopic, renaissance painting-esque cover with a tightlipped smile.

“Handmaid’s Tale,” he reads with a squint, then nods. “Sounds fun.”

“It’s not,” the pretty girl scoffs. She thumbs through her own copy of the book that she plucked from the shelf. “It’s the one I was telling you about on the way over.”

The pretty boy’s face screws up in disgust. “Oh. The one with gross men?”

“The one with the gross men.”

He turns back to you, looking apologetic. “Sorry, I take it back. Not fun.”

You smile wordlessly in response.

“He’s Steve, by the way,” the pretty girl says to you, nodding to the pretty boy. “I figured if he’s gonna keep weirdly hovering over you, you should probably know his name—”

“I’m not hovering!”

“—You can call him dingus if you want. I’m Robin.”

“Hi,” you greet, quiet and mousy.

“Do you come around here often?” the boy — Steve — wonders, bushy brows pinched and burly arms crossed over his chest. “I feel like I’ve seen you before—”

“Ugh. Stop flirting with her.”

“I’m asking a question!”

You purse your lips to the side in attempts to hide your smile and your gaze back to your book. 

They argue like a married couple. You wonder how long they’ve been together — six months or six years?

“Sorry about him. He’s not usually this annoying,” Robin quips with a playful twinkle in her deep ocean eye. She slams the book closed with a ringed handand walks back towards you. She pushes Steve ahead and away from you in the process. “Alright, I got the goods. Let’s go before they close.”

Your eyes widen as you look down at your wrist. 

Ten minutes until eight o’clock. 

You turn to the book once more and find that you’re about a hundred pages shy from the end of it. You tend to read like a maniac if you’re focused enough, but there’s no way you’re finishing it before closing.

“Shit…”

“You okay?” Steve asks, still lingering at the very end of the aisle, though Robin has already left for check-out.

You rise and straighten out your clothes — the very un-special sweatshirt and baggy jeans duo you’d changed into after work. It’s not unlike the navy blue henley and similarly colored denim he’s got on, but you don’t look nearly as pretty as he does.

“Yeah,” you shrug, not quite meeting his gaze as you return the book that feels like it only fits in your hands. “I just— I didn’t realize how late it was.”

You don’t expect to see Steve looking so concerned when you turn back to him. His brows are furrowed, honey eyes glinting in question. “You’re not getting it? You looked like you were almost done.”

“Oh, I don’t— I can’t…” you stammer then trail off, fidgeting awkwardly ahead of him. 

You don’t want this pretty boy’s first impression of you to be that you’re completely and utterly broke. Even if this is the last you ever see of him, you’ll only be remembered as that one girl from the bookstore who couldn’t buy herself anything. 

“I figured I could just come buy tomorrow and finish it…”

“Oh. Okay. Well, it was… it was nice meeting you, then.”

“You, too,” you murmur with a tightlipped smile, eager to get away from a moment you don’t feel very deserving of. 

Out of every girl this pretty boy could’ve chosen, why did it have to be the one in the very back of the bookstore who was too poor to get anything other than a free coffee and bagel? 

You chuck both in the bin as you head towards the exit.

The sun has almost finished setting when you leave — mostly disappeared over the skyline, but painting the sky a deep lavender shade unique to the twilight hour. You stand at the crosswalk — the man on the speaker shouting “wait!” at your side — as you anticipate the orange hand across the street to turn into a white stick figure.

“I told you she’d still be here,” a familiar voice sounds from a few paces behind you, mostly drowned out by the sounds of passing cars. A louder “hey!” follows. You only think the voice might be calling for you until it comes closer. 

“Hey!” It comes again, louder now.

You look over your shoulder and find Steve from the Bookstore striding towards you. 

Both happy and confused to see him, your wavering smile is paired with a pair of furrowed brows. “Hey…”

“Sorry, you just— you left this.”

When your eyes manage to flit away from his sculpted face — which you just noticed looks eerily similar to Michelangelo’s David — you find that he’s holding a book in his hands. Handmaid’s Tale. The same copy you were reading, dog-eared just like you left it.

Your contorted features never falter. “I didn’t…” you trail off with the shake of your head, laughing softly. “I didn’t buy that.”

“No, I know,” Steve shrugs with a crooked grin. “I did.”

You think he might be implying he bought it for you, but then you realize that’s crazy, because why would he do that for you? That’s the sort of thing that happens to girls in Brontë novels, not to you.

“Youdid?” you echo like an idiot because it’s all you can think to say.

“Yeah. ‘Cause, you know, you looked pretty interested in it and everything…”

“But you didn’t have to… You didn’t have to buy it for me—”

“It’s not a big deal. Seriously. I mean, it’ll save you the extra trip down here tomorrow, right?”

You meet his confident grin with a trembling one. “I can’t take it…”

“Well, if you don’t take it, that means I have to keep it, and—”

“He’s pretty much illiterate,” Robin calls from a little ways behind him.

She’s waiting by a pretty maroon car. It looks like a luxury model of some kind, shiny like it’s fresh off the lot. She leans against it like it’s hers, but Steve’s got the keys in his hand — the one not holding the book he bought for you.

“…I was gonna say I haven’t read anything since junior year of high school, but sure,” he concedes with a shrug. His eyes sparkle down at you— or maybe it’s just the street lamps flickering on. Either way, you feel your stomach whirling. He waves the book at you. “Take it. You’ll actually read it.”

“But…” you trail off, eyes flickering over to Robin. You step closer to Steve and lean in like you’re about to tell him a secret. “Won’t your girlfriend be upset?”

“Girlfriend?” the boy repeats with pinched brows. He goes soft with realization a second later, then starts to laugh. “No. Robin, she’s— No. She’s not really my type.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” you stammer with wide eyes. 

If cool, pretty girls aren’t his type, then there’s no way in hell you are. 

Slightly comforted by his assurances, when he motions the book to you again, you take it. 

“Well, thank you, Steve. That’s… That’s really nice.”

He shrugs again. “’S no big deal. Really.”

“But I feel a little bad,” you confess quietly, peeking at him from beneath your lashes while you fidget with the book in your anxious hands. “I feel like I should give you something in return, or, I don’t know, like—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Steve assures with the shake of his head. He swipes a hand through the chocolate-honey locks and flashes you a smile that borders on shy. “But if you wanted to go out for coffee or something sometime, then I’d be willing to call it even.”

Your cheeks burn. You don’t know if you’re breathing anymore, or if you even can. A quiet smile quirks at the corner of your mouth as you nod. “Coffee sounds good,” you answer sheepishly.

“Cool,” Steve replies coolly, like he isn’t totally beaming down at you. “Then, just… call me whenever you’re free.”

“Oh, I don’t— I don’t have your number.”

His sneakers scuff against the sidewalk as he walks backwards to his car. He just nods at you, smiling gently as he argues, “Yeah, you do.”

Your brows furrow in confusion — because you most certainly don’t. He was a stranger to you a little more than ten minutes ago. You have no reason to have his number. 

Realization settles over you like pinpricks down your spine, butterflies in your belly. 

You open the front cover of the book and find several numbers written down at the very bottom of the cover page.

Call me when you finish, the note reads in half-legible chicken scratch. I’m not really a book guy, but I could probably hear you talk about them all day.

He signs off with his name, number, and a sloppy smiley face. 

You don’t realize you’re beaming until you already are. 

When you look back up at Steve, you find him standing at the open driver’s side door, already smiling back at you.

[prettiestlovergirl]

SWEET

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; slytherin! reader; oral (f. receiving); hickeys; kitchen quickie; slightly sub! mattheo riddle; french! mattheo riddle.

concept: an afternoon of baking ends in you covered in a mess your boyfriend, mattheo riddle, is more than willing to help you clean up.

a/n: one of my lovely lovely anons helped me come up with this idea hehe. inspired by me, accidentally covering myself in edible glitter when baking. some idea credit to bratetteprincess who just recently did a latina! reader baking w/luke castellan fic! enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

everybody in your house knew that sunday mornings were for your baking.

after two years of begging and pleading with all of your professors, you were given permission to use the kitchens one day a week in order to bake to your hearts desire.

you always liked to experiment with new things. various dyes that stained your hands different shades, new flavors that made your hair smell for days, edible flowers that made you gag.

today, though, you might have gotten just a teensy tiny bit carried away with your current experiment: edible glitter.

you'd been desperately craving carrot cupcakes but after you'd made and decorated them, they just looked so... boring. after glancing around the blissfully empty kitchen, you spotted it: the silver edible glitter just begging to be used.

you pressed the pump once over the baking tray, watching happily as a cloud of glitter flew out and created a glittery sheen over the cream cheese frosting.

long story short, 15 minutes later your cupcakes were perfect and you were absolutely covered in edible glitter.

you'd been in the middle of sliding your pretty pink apron off when your boyfriend, mattheo, came in to bother check up on you. mattheo was practically fucking addicted to you.

he couldn't stand not being around you for more than an hour, and when he was with you? his hands were all over you, constantly touching, grabbing, rubbing, or squeezing some part of your body. not that you really minded, you were just as obsessed with him.

"wow, ma douce (my sweet), did an arts and crafts shop throw up on you?" he asked, his usual teasing smirk on lips as he wrapped his arm around you. he nuzzled his face into your neck, not caring about the glitter transferring to his clothes. "what are you even doing with glitter? thought you were baking." he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"it's edible glitter. my cupcakes looked so boring n i ran out of those carrot n bunny sprinkles i love so... i tried something new." you shrugged, sticking your lower lip out in a pout as you set your glitter covered apron down on the counter.

"edible, huh?" mattheo asked, eyes now locked on the shimmering skin above your collarbone. "mhm." you nodded, not paying much attention to your boyfriend as you attempted to try and clean up your mess.

you paused your actions as he leaned down and took a nice, long lick up from your collarbone to your jaw. you let out a soft gasp while he groaned instantly at the sugar taste, admiring how your skin shined now with both the glitter and his saliva.

"mattheo..." you breathed, your voice a soft whine as he drew his tongue back down. "mattheo, i have to clean up, it's part of my deal with the professors." you whined, trying to move from his grip that only seemed to tighten as you shifted.

he thrived on the sounds of your pretty little whimpers, already getting drunk on the one little taste he had of you. he'd never been so down bad for anyone before, but with you? he couldn't help but want to touch you, taste you, 24/7.

"we are cleaning up, ma douce (my sweet). 'm helping you clean up all this glitter first, you got a big clump right there." he murmured, pressing his lips to the skin and sucking harshly on it, drawing another whimper from your lips.

he sucked on the skin, drawing moan after moan out of you until he could see the beginnings of a pretty purple bruise. "there we go, all gone." he hummed, his hands finding their way up to your chest and squeezing your boobs gently.

you mewled softly as he squeezed, biting your lower lip as he kissed and sucked purple marks all over your neck. you squeezed your thighs together tightly, feeling the wetness pool in your panties.

normally, you'd be upset with the number of hickeys he left, but the way his lips moved in sync with his hands made you a little distracted.

he moved away from your neck, now kissing and swiping his tongue over the skin down your arms. he left the occasional bite mark as he moved, your fingers now digging into his scalp as your breathing got heavy.

"mm, mattheo, now you've got some glitter on you." you pouted, dipping your own head down to lick up the newly transferred glitter. you traced your name on his neck with your tongue, leaving your own series of hickeys on his neck.

"fuck." he groaned, hands still massaging your boobs over your clothes while you suck his neck and paint it varying shades of purple and green.

"you should use this glitter more often." he murmured, to which you simply nodded instantly. you grazed your teeth over his pulse point, giggling softly as he let out his own soft whine. "y'know, i think you've got some more glitter down further. hop up on the counter, yeah? want to check it out." he grunted.

you pushed the cooling rack holding your sparkly cupcakes to the side before lifting yourself up onto the counter. "really want to make sure we get it all off." mattheo hummed, lifting your ass up a bit and dragging your shorts and panties down your legs.

he knelt down before you, pressing a few soft kisses up both of your legs before being face to face with your drooling cunt. "ma douce, douce ange (my sweet, sweet angel)" he crooned, taking a long lick through your puffy folds and watching as your toes curled in pleasure.

"fuck, it's even sweeter than the glitter." he groaned, dipping his tongue right back into your pussy. your head lolled back, teeth trapping your lower lip roughly while your hand gripped the back of his head.

he pinched your clit between his teeth and his tongue before rubbing his tongue back and forth rapidly. he relished in the way your back arched and your moans got louder and louder.

you thanked god for the soundproofed kitchens as you bucked your hips against his face. "mattheo, fuck, mattheo!" you whimpered, his name sounding like heaven from your lips.

his tongue continued to work your sensitive clit as you moaned for more, begged for him to move faster. "god, fuck yes, fuck!" you whined, gripping at his curls tightly while he continued to flick his tongue against your puffy bundle of nerves.

"shit, fuck, mattheo, 'm gonna- fuck!" you moaned, nearly collapsing back on the counter as you came roughly on his tongue and chin. he licked and lapped at your pussy, going until he got every single drop and your legs were quivering from the overstimulation.

he let you catch your breath before eventually helping you back up. you got redressed and together, you picked up the kitchen and got your cupcakes onto your pretty little platter.

later that afternoon, you and mattheo snuggled up together on the couch in the common room, chatting away about whatever nonsense you felt like chatting about.

when your friends came in, their eyes widened in confusion at the sight of you: you were both still coated in glitter with hickeys all over your necks, and you even had bite marks on your arms.

"jesus, did you get into a fight with a sparkly vampire?"

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

[anchoeritic]

「 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞. 」

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jake sully x fem!human

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw(18+), minors dni. clit play, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (sweetheart, baby, etc.), fingering, squirting, use of “girl”, size kink/difference.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: “i'll touch you as you wish, but only if you can stay quiet for me.”

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: two jake fics in a day? i might as well make my comeback now. reblogs and feedback are appreciated but never pressured! feel free to send in requests while you’re at it.

“you’re so pretty, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he would whisper against your lips, hoping to hear the smallest whimper from you.

his hands were always quick enough to make you answer; caressing your breasts through the thin fabric.

his hands could cover your entire body: him compared to you was the biggest difference and he loved that about you.

he knew he would always tower over you and make you say yes. you were his prey.

nipples erected and clearly toyed with, he licks his lips, observing the way your eyes would roll back for him. “jake,” a whine came out from you, earning a devilish smile from him.

“hm, talk to me,” he would reply, starting to trail kisses along your jaw, “tell me what you feel, baby.”

he knew what he was doing when he teased you. he always made you say what you wanted, felt, before he continued to pleasure you. he was a man of control, he needed those sweet words to come out from your mouth before he could devour you.

you bucked your hips on his lap, biting onto your lip softly. “i need you.” toying around with your nipple, he pinched it gently.

“you sure you can take it?” he teased you, brushing away a fallen strand behind your ear to see your eyes clearer.

his tongue traced circles into your cheek, the slight coldness of his teeth pinching your flesh.

you agreed obediently, nodding your head.

he could only reply with a laugh, caressing your jaw softly. "so needy to be touched," he started. "can i make a deal with ya?"

humming, you laid your head against his chest still rocking yourself softly against his thighs.

“i'll touch you as you wish,” his hand slides up from your breasts, wrapping around your neck tightly before you could react. his breaths grew heavy against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

there had to be a catch to it. he'd never give in to you so easily, right?

“but only if you can stay quiet for me.”

there it was.

“you want me to stay quiet?” you whispered.

“that includes no talking, sweetheart,” he smirked, slipping a finger between your wet folds. he watched as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.

struggling to stay silent with one finger inside you, he slipped a second one, pumping them into you with no mercy.

caught by surprise, your immediate reaction was to close your legs, but jake thought otherwise.

with his strength, he used his arm to pull your leg up, holding it up against your chest as his other was playing with you.

struggling to stay quiet, you bit onto your own leg, burying your face against it.

“still wanna be mean, sweetheart? guess who gets to tell you when to cum.” he pinched the inside of your thigh.

“such a needy, needy girl. i wonder what'll happen if i end up making you squirt.”

a third digit is added, stretching you out beyond what you can take, but could never compare to jake.

you shake your head attempting to push his hand away, only to be met with a hiss from him and a quickening in pace.

“i feel you getting tighter,” he added as you clenched around his fingers. "c'mon, make me happy, baby."

shuttering, you spread your legs wider, trembling when you felt the cold air hit in all different places.

“i know you want to cum,” he mumbled into your hair.

your hips could no longer control themselves, trying to ride for the high. your arousal was already dripping down from between your thighs, drenching jake's lap.

“cum for me.”

his words sent you over the edge, body shaking into an orgasm.

a low groan was heard by jake as you brushed against his bulge, turns out you weren’t the one that had to be quiet.

you threw your head back onto his shoulder, breathing heavily. that had been one of the best of your life and you were silent.

bite marks were scattered around your knee: all made by you attempting to keep yourself quiet.

smiling down at you, he placed gentle kisses on the crown of your head.

“so good for me.” he praised.

“sìltsan 'eve.”

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 , hsr men !

side comments: i love old jazzy tunes or old songs in general. i usually don't do this kind of fic but i wanted to try something new.

extra: gn reader, fluff, all hsr men except yanqing & misha word count: 434

Other arms reach out to me Other eyes smile tenderly Still in peaceful dreams I see The road leads back to you. 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 / Ray Charles

Despite age the two of you bustle about; committing your duties be it work or another passion. Perhaps either of you transverse the cosmos. However, when Twilight's wings gingerly take you under its folds, the two of you melt into one like candle wax dripping down its holder. No matter what path each of you treads- you are bound no matter the state. Thus, under the duvet covers and the unspoken lullabies of the night, he presses kisses on your wrinkled eyes like gemstones while slowly caressing your furrowed hand with a gentleness only matched by the lightness of a feather and the warmth of a beating heart. It is instinctive like blinking, like drawing air into the lungs. Rest now in silence for neither of you needed to say a word, another day will come and nights of blossoming devotion will echo into eternity.

𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑 . Dan Heng . 𝐃𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎 . 𝐋𝐔𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀 . Gepard . 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍 . 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈 . Blade . 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 . + any of your favourites

Just one look at you My heart grew tipsy in me You and you alone Bring out the Gypsy in me I love all the many charms about you Above all, I want my arms about you 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 / Judy Garland

Your limbs might not take you far now, but he'll twirl you in the air like a star and tease you until your cheeks ache from laughter. The glimmer and shine of that first date still trails behind the two of you: stardust in the wind, wings that seldom break. You two still share that hidden kiss in public and search for treasures amongst a sea of rust. Giddy and unfettered, the two of you are like birds spinning in the air; chasing each other in fits of uncontrolled laughter. Blush still brushing against your sagging cheeks and the tipsyness of a night still young, his own heart enthralled as the first time he met you. The throng can stare if they want; asking why not sit down? Would you like some help? That's fine, he'll still banter and pursue adoration as if it's not already tucked in his arms. Because despite his gradually wilting eyes and worn-out knees, he'll still bow down and press his head against your stomach, whispering, "mine."

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 . Argenti . 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍 . 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐎 . 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐀 . Gallager . 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 . + any of your favourites

At last My love has come along My lonely days are over And life is like a song 𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 / Etta James

The two of you have mellowed over the years, lost some hair and found comfort in blue skies, the pit pat of rain and sand between your toes. Perhaps the two of you find a house in the countryside or build a home on a distant planet found in cup boards and the warmth of an oven. Perhaps you settle under the blanket of the universe; allowing your eyes to trace the sun inching down the walls of your shared home. The two of you spend your days lying languidly on the couch, days drifting into melodies spent well and arms entangled as one. He never would've thought that his heart could slow and his soul mellow like a distant breeze. His eyes drifted towards your figure, a pleasant smile reaching his lips.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 . Welt . Gepard . 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 . Dr. Ratio . 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 . 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆 . Jing Yuan . Luocha . + any of your favourites

masterlist.

[st-eve-barnes]

Hush (modern Aemond x fem Reader)

Summary: Aemond has been crushing on you since forever but is too shy to tell you. One night while watching a movie with your friends and cuddling underneath a blanket he shows you just how much he desires you. Based on this little prompt "What if I pull your panties aside, and finger you in a public place…?"

Word count: +3700

Warning: 18+ for explicit content and language, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, hand job (sort of), mild choking,

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All my fics are also on AO3

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Aemond’s mind was everywhere except focussed on the movie playing on the big tv in front of him. Lord of the Rings the Two Towers just finished a few minutes ago and the intro for Return of the King now filled the screen. Aemond adored these movies, they always managed to get him out of his own head and distract him from whatever was happening in real life.

But tonight, even Frodo and Sam didn’t succeed in changing his low mood.

If it were up to him he’d be in his room right now, wallowing and hiding away from the world.

But his friends had insisted he’d hang with them for their weekly movie marathon. Part of him was grateful they looked out for him and cared enough, but another part of him just wanted to be left alone.

You’d been gone for over 5 hours now and he hadn’t thought of anything else since, how beautiful you looked with your hair down and that short, sexy black dress you only wore on date nights. Not that he would know anything about that. You had dated half his friend group but never him.

Of course not him, why would you?

He grabbed another handful of popcorn and tried to focus on the beginning of the movie but it was no use. He knew he’d go to sleep with you still on his mind, like he had so many night before in the past 3 years since he’d known you.

It was completely pathetic, but what was he to do? You were his best friend. He was the first one you ran to after every single one of those dates, sometimes to talk about how amazing the guy was and how you hoped he might be the one, but more often than not it was to cry on Aemond’s shoulder after another asshole broke your heart. 

The jealousy was enough to drive him insane sometimes, but still he was only too happy to lend you his shoulder and his arms whenever you needed them.

You always seemed so comfortable around him and in return Aemond could let his guard down with you, which was rare for him. Your friendship was the most important thing in his life, he’d rather die than lose you, and he'd rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. So he kept his feelings locked away deep down and played the part of supportive best friend while you went on one date after the other with a bunch of guys who never stuck around for very long. 

But he always would. Until maybe one day you would see…

He knew that was a dream he should stop indulging in but he just could’t help it, he was too far gone for you and tonight was a low point. He craved you so bad just the thought of you in that black dress had him growing hard in his sweatpants.

***

You opened the door of the apartment as quietly as you could, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. You knew they were all watching the movie and maybe if you were careful enough you could just slip past everyone and get to your room without having to explain…

“Y/N!”

Shit.

Helaena’s voice made everyone look up at you. Your friends were all spread out across the living room, on the couches and on the floor, covered in blankets and surrounded by cozy lights and candles. The whole setting was very inviting yet you wanted no part in it right now, you just wanted to get to your room before you would burst out in tears.

But when Helaena got up and put her arms around you that plan failed.

“Oh, honey, no…what’s wrong?” she looked at you with concern on her face.

“Bad date,” you sobbed,”Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay,” she caressed your hair,”Do you wanna watch the movie with us? We just started Return of the king.”

You shook your head,”I just want to crawl into my bed and disappear.”

But Helaena didn’t let go of you and shook her head,”No, I can’t allow that.”

“Can’t allow that?” you couldn’t help but smile through your tears.

“Come join us, you can cry over that asshole later, the people who care about you are right here.”

You sighed.

“Please?” she added with her sweetest smile, pulling you over the edge easily. You knew she was right, you deserved to end the night surrounded by friends instead of alone in your bed crying over some guy who wasn’t even worth it.

“Fine,” you caved,”just give me a few minutes.”

“Take your time, grab some popcorn and a drink from the kitchen and come find a spot.”

You did as she suggested, making a quick stop in the bathroom first to wash off your make up and exchange your dress for some comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. Then you got some snacks from the kitchen table and a soda from the fridge before making your way back to the living room. 

Much to your dismay everyone was sitting in pairs, even Helaena who seemed very cozy next to Jace. You instantly wanted to turn on your heel and go hide in your room anyway. But then you saw him, the only one who was sitting by himself. 

Aemond.

He was already looking at you when your eyes met his and he gave you a little smile, mouthing,”You okay?”

You shook your head.

“Come here,” he beckoned and he lifted up his blanket, an invite to join him and you didn’t hesitate.

You placed your drink and snacks on the table and crawled into the empty space next to him, Aemond was quick to cover you with the blanket.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, his hand on your lower back to pull you to him and place a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Hey, Aem,” you smiled weakly.

“That bad, hmm?” he asked.

You laughed bitterly, feeling the tears well up again,”Yeah, that bad.”

“Want me to go beat him up? Run him over with my car? Set fire to his place? Just name it. I can make it look like an accident.”

Your laugh was sincere and his lips curled up into a smile of his own while his hand squeezed at your hip.

Despite your best efforts a tear ran down your cheek anyway.

“Hey, baby, don’t,” he whispered while his hand gently cupped your cheek, brushing your tears away,”Don’t cry, sweet girl.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest and Aemond wrapped his arm around you, gently caressing your hair while he held you.

“You liked this one, didn’t you?” he asked with a sigh.

“No, he was a total jerk.”

Aemond’s other hand gently cupped your cheek, his eye meeting yours,”Then why the tears?”

“I’m just…so tired of meeting these assholes. He flirted with the waitress the entire time, right in front of me, even gave her his number, like I wasn’t even there and…it just made me feel so…unlovable.”

Aemond’s jaw tensed up and you could see anger boiling in his one good eye.

His thumb traced your jaw,“Give me his name and I will make him regret it.”

He sounded so intense and serious you weren’t sure if he was still joking or not and it made a shiver run up your spine.

“When you talk like that I almost think you mean it,” you pointed out.

“Almost?” he gave you a teasing little smirk and you shook your head, leaning into his touch and Aemond didn’t hesitate to wrap both arms around you and pull you into him. You melted into his arms and let the rest of your tears fall freely, knowing Aemond would hold you through every last one of them.

You felt like the luckiest girl alive having him as your best friend.

He tightened his hug, soothing you with sweet, comforting words while his hand softly stroked your hair.“It’s okay…I got you, sweetheart..it’s okay, he doesn’t deserve you…please don’t cry…It’s alright, baby, I’m here.”

This wasn’t new, you crying your heart out in Aemond’s arms, it happened way too often, but something felt different tonight. The pet names, the way his touches lingered and how hungry he looked at you in between made your stomach flutter. And you didn't want it to stop.

Your tears were soon forgotten and the horrible date faded into nothing but a distant memory as you relaxed under Aemond’s attention.

You were stroking up and down his back when you accidentally slipped your hand underneath his shirt, a small whimper left his lips at your unexpected touch. It encouraged you to do it again, letting your nails drag across his back, this time he let out a small moan and his hand tightened in your hair.

“Aem,” you buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and making him shiver. He was biting his lip to keep from moaning again as you continued to touch him. When you placed a soft, innocent kiss in his neck he lost that fight.

You couldn’t help but smile seeing the effect you had on him and you kissed him again, this time letting your tongue trace lightly over his skin until he shivered again. You pulled back.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, grabbing the back of your neck to hold you close to him,”Please…please baby, don’t stop.”

His one hand moved down your back to cup your ass and pull your one leg over his, your knee bumping up against his growing erection.

There was no way you were going to stop now.

You kissed his neck again and Aemond pulled the blanket up a little higher, making sure no one else could see what you two were doing but everyone seemed too distracted watching the movie anyway.

Your hands moved underneath his shirt to touch his chest and stomach, his skin was warm, hard and soft at the same time and you could feel him shiver again, his hungry eyes begging you not to stop.

Aemond was losing his mind, your hands all over him were driving him crazy and when you started kissing his neck again he was suddenly rock hard in his sweatpants. He needed to take control back fast, he grabbed your wrists to hold you back.

“Turn around,” he begged in a husky voice, still breathing faster than usual.

He manoeuvred you into a different position so you were lying with your back up against his chest. You instantly missed the feeling of his skin under your hands but it was forgotten about quickly when Aemond gently moved your hair to one side, exposing your neck to him and then placing soft, hot kisses on your shoulder.

Now it was your turn to try and stay quiet and you were losing the fight just as quickly as he had, letting out a soft whimper when he started kissing and sucking your neck.

“Aem,” you breathed.

His mouth was right next to your ear,”You want me to stop?”

There was a teasing, smug tone to his voice, he knew damn well you didn’t want him to stop.

His hand moved up your hip, over your stomach to cup your breast through your shirt, thumb circling your nipple while he continued placing wet kisses all over your neck.

Your eyes closed in pure bliss. “Please,” you begged,”Touch me…under my shirt…please.”

You could feel his lips quirk up in a smile and he gave you what you asked for, pushing up your t-shirt and caressing your tits again, pinching your nipple in between his fingers while his teeth grazed your ear.”I’ve wanted to put my hands on you for so long…touch you just like this…fuck, you have no idea what you do to me…how hard you make me.”

To accentuate his words he carefully lifted his hips to push back against your ass, letting you feel his aching cock.

You squirmed in his arms.

“Shhh,” he purred,”You need to keep quiet or I have to stop, okay? Can’t let anyone see what we’re doing.”

You bit your lip and quickly nodded your head. Your hand was on his leg and you were squeezing hard while you pressed your own legs together trying to relieve some pressure.

To say you had never lusted after Aemond would be a lie. You had always found him gorgeous and intense in a very sexy way, but he was your best friend, somehow you had never allowed your mind to really go there. Until tonight, and now that you had opened that door there was no end to how much you desired him.

“Feel,” he breathed into your ear while he took your hand and placed it on his cock,”Feel how hard you make me.”

You rubbed him through his pants, making him growl into your ear. Before you could do it again he pushed your hand away and kissed your neck again.

“You’re squirming so much, little one, what is it?” he teased, an amused tone to his voice,”Is there something you need, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathed and you turned your head just enough to make brief eye contact with him,”I need you to touch me, Aem.”

You didn’t need to give him anymore details, he knew exactly what you meant.

“Can you be quiet for me?” Aemond checked, his tone serious.

“Hmm,” you confirmed.

He placed a soft kiss on your jaw while his hand moved down to your hip and then your inner thigh.”Spread your legs for me,” he whispered in your ear while placing your leg over his, spreading you open for him. You moved with him so easily and eagerly he cursed himself for not having done this sooner.

He caressed your hair and then placed his hand in the back of your neck, massaging softly and pulling your shirt down so he could kiss more of your shoulders and your back.

“Aem,” your voice was shaking,”Please…please.”

You had never begged so much in your life and every single one of your pleas was music to Aemond’s ears.

“Shhh, I got you,” he whispered, carefully untying your shorts and then slipping his hand underneath, teasing you by dragging his fingers over your panties,”Fuck, these are soaked right through. You are so wet, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but whimper at his words and Aemond grabbed your chin with his thumb, making you look back into his eye,”You really need it, don't you, sweetheart? Is that why you’re dripping all over my hand, hmm? You want it that bad?” 

You nodded and bit your lip,”I want you that bad.”

His cock stirred at your words and the feel of your hot, wet pussy under his hand was becoming too much. Fuck it, he should just drag you to his bedroom right now and fuck you into his mattress, give into what he'd been craving for so long now. But he also wanted to save that part for later, when all your friends had gone home and he could have you all to himself, take his time to really worship you the way he always dreamed of.

This right here, teasing you and feeling your body burn up under his touch, was turning him on beyond reason and it would have to be enough for now.

His breath was hot and heavy in your ear,”You want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

He gently pulled your hair back, placing his lips on your ear as he whispered,”You want me to push your panties to the side and finger you right here, with all of our friends in the room? Would you like that, my sweet dirty girl?”

All you managed was a quiet moan in the back of your throat but it was enough confirmation for Aemond to continue.

“God, you’re such a bad girl,” he purred, licking the spot right below your ear,”You’ll be quiet for me, yeah? Otherwise I can’t continue, okay, baby?”

“I’ll be quiet,” you nodded,”I promise.”

You were lying, you couldn’t promise him a damn thing and you were pretty sure he knew that but both of you were too far gone to stop now. He could suggest fucking you right here with all of your friends as witnesses and you would probably still say yes, that’s how badly you needed him.

Aemond carefully pulled down your shorts and then pushed your panties aside. His long delicate fingers teasing your clit, circling it slowly and spreading your wetness all over your folds.

You bit your lip to keep your moans quiet.

“Good girl,” Aemond praised,”Good fucking girl…lean back against me.”

Your head fell back onto his shoulder and Aemond caressed your hair, nuzzling your neck and your cheek, his other hand still rubbing perfect circles over your most sensitive spot. He continued until he noticed you started breathing harder and faster, your nails digging into his thigh, your orgasm within reach.

His finger moved to tease your entrance and you were no longer able to hold back the quiet little moans escaping your lips. You wanted to beg and scream but you also didn’t want to make a single sound and be so good for him. Aemond didn’t stop, pushing his long delicate finger into your fluttering walls and the both of you gasped for air for a moment.

“Fuck,” he breathed,”Oh god, you’re so tight…so warm….and so fucking wet for me…fuck, baby, I can’t wait for you to take my cock.”

You moaned at his words and he was quick to cover your mouth with his free hand.

“Shhh shhh,” he insisted but he didn’t pull back, instead he added another finger and then just held them there without moving,”You can’t do that, sweetheart, they’ll hear us. Be a good girl for me, okay?”

You nodded quickly, desperate for him to move his fingers again.

“Here, bite my thumb,” he suggested, letting his finger brush over your lips. You were quick to take him into your mouth, sucking slowly and dragging your tongue all over it. Aemond instantly regretted his choice because now he was the one losing control again. The feel of your hot, wet mouth on him went straight to his cock and the thought of that mouth swallowing him whole was enough to almost set him off.

“Slow down,” he begged,”Please, baby, slow down…fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like some horny teenager if you keep doing that.”

You looked up at him with feigned innocence while you sucked harder, keeping your eyes on him.

“Stop!” he pulled his thumb from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smirk this time.

“Aemond, you have to be quiet,” you teased.

Aemond’s hand moved to your neck, not choking you but holding you still while he started fucking you with his fingers, taking back control.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“Maybe I should just keep teasing you, hmm?” he grunted in your ear,”Bad girls don’t get to cum and that…was very bad of you.”

He kept fucking you with his two fingers, curling them just right but as soon as he hit the sweet spot he pulled back.

“No, no please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Aem.”

He added pressure around your throat and started kissing your shoulder again, soft sweet kisses turned rough and he sucked your skin until it bruised, all while adding a third finger and fucking you faster. You were falling fast, biting down on your own hand now to stop from making too much noise.

“That’s my good girl,” he growled in your ear, while his thumb found your clit again,”I knew you could do it, sweetheart."

You were so close, your pussy clenching around him over and over, your climax was right there, all you needed was that last little…

“Cum for me, my sweet girl,” he whispered softly, teeth grazing your ear,”Come on..god, fuck you’re squeezing me so tight…shit….cum for me, baby, please. Please.”

He choked on his last word and you came hard, but not before moving your hand to his cock, rubbing him through his sweatpants until Aemond buried his face into your neck, muffling his own moan and spilling into his pants.

“Fuck, oh god you fucking little brat…fuck,” he breathed hard, wrapping both arms around you to hold you close to him. You stayed like that for a while until you turned around to be able to hug him back. Your eyes finally meeting his fully and the soft smile he greeted you with warmed your heart.

Aemond gently cupped your cheek.”Hey,” he whispered, suddenly shy again while biting down on his lip.

“Hey, you,” you smiled.

“Come here,” he leaned in to kiss your lips, slow and deep and so soft it was making your head spin again. You kissed him back with the same fire, melting into his embrace.

All those bad dates and horrible guys and you could have been doing this all along. Regret filled your senses and Aemond noticed the sudden serious expression in your eyes.

“Hey, you okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, concerned,"Was it too much? Did you not like all the teasing?"

"No, no god that was perfect," you reassured him,"I just…wish we’d done this sooner.”

His lisp curled up into the biggest smile, warming your heart,”Me too, but we’ll make up for lost time, I promise, my sweet girl.”

He leaned in to place another soft, lingering kiss on your lips.

It was Aegon’s loud and obnoxious voice that pulled you both out of your haze:”Are you guys about done so we can get back to watching the movie now? Jesus fucking Christ, the bedrooms are right there, you couldn’t have done that in there or waited until the movie was over? Fucking horny bastards.”

“Oh god,” you buried your face against Aemond’s chest in embarrassment and he hugged you close, shielding you from the others and giving his brother the finger but also unable to keep the happy grin off his face.

Then he did what Aegon suggested, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him towards his bedroom, under loud cheers from most of your friends.

Aemond turned around one last time to wink at Aegon,”Better turn up that volume cause we're not going to be quiet this time.”

He closed the door behind him just in time to dodge the pillow Aegon threw at him.

[polaroidpascal]

paradise city || joel miller

AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE

pairing : guitarist!joel x f!reader

summary : when you and your friends go out to a bar to see a local band gig, you can’t help but notice how the guitarist’s eyes somehow keep finding you in the crowd.

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak AU, i imagine joel is in his early 40s, no age gap mentioned, mention of reader’s breakup, mentions of alcohol consumption, joel starts off a little shy but truly there ain’t nothing shy about this man, size kink (kinda?? a little bit??) oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dom!joel, joel gets a little possessive (you’ll see what i mean…), praise kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare ofc

fic playlist : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0afpHjoOFylI01OTbV5jol

(picture joel playing during the guitar solos in every single one of these songs 😁)

WC : 7.9k… (no one look at me. not a single soul.)

a/n : 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! i apologize in advance for all the song lyrics i’ve scattered in this fic… i opted to make a playlist of the songs i think joel’s band would play but there were just too many good ones to pass up and i was losing it a little bit 🫠 also, shoutout to @joelsdagger for constantly yapping with me about this idea and letting me tease her about this absolute menace of a man and also @haileymorelikestupid for beta reading for me 🥹😭 it feels extremely fitting to post a joel fic on international women’s day where he fucks you so good, so i hope y’all enjoy !! <3

You and your friends have had a week. 

Deciding you all needed a night to let loose and have fun together, your friend Erica found out about this place hosting a local rock cover band called Fetters Whiskey and thought it might be nice to come see them.

Earlier, you had all piled into the Uber and were headed out, a low girly chatter filling the car. The three in the back harped on about their spouses and all the little things that annoyed them. 

“He left the dishes in the drying rack!” “She helped me clean a little too well and used all the cleaner, now we’re all out!”

The complaining did help them destress a bit.

You and Erica were in the second row captain’s chairs of the car, the three in the back doing their pregame de-stressing. “Makes you rethink the whole marriage fantasy, huh?” she jokes, looking over at you playing with the rings on your fingers. 

You look up and breathe a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so,” you say with a weak smile.

“Well… have you had any luck finding anyone?” she asks sweetly, sincerely. Genuinely hoping someone has caught your eye.

You had a pretty nasty breakup a while ago, probably about eight months by now. You two had been dating for a while and the breakup honestly seemed to come out of nowhere, like some switch flipped one day and nothing was really the same. Your friends stuck by you through every up and down you had. You felt really lucky to have them.

“No. not yet,” you tell her.

“Well, maybe tonight’s your night,” she says with a friendly smile. “You deserve to unwind and let loose a little, y’know what I mean?” You breathe another laugh. “You do!” she exclaims, hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” you say, the rest of the car ride seeming to fly by, a part of you kinda hoping she’s right.

The bar is crowded. 

You walk in, snaking the group between the crowd and making your way near the stage towards the back of the bar, men and women alike all brushing bodies the closer you get to the stage, drinks in hand, friends chattering away, everyone waiting for the show. 

Two of your coworkers disappear to fetch everyone a drink while you and the others stake claim on a little area near the stage. A couple of guys are on the stage setting up the instruments and making sure everything is plugged in right, the lights dimmed enough to not really draw much attention to them. It’s not long before the others join them on stage and start playing. The girls return just in time, handing out the drinks as the music starts.

The band is pretty good (you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re more than pleased with how good they sound). They play some fan favorites like Wanted Dead or Alive and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll, and they mix in some random fun songs like Play That Funky Music. 

The drummer is clearly in his own world, head moving at a velocity you would think could give him whiplash. And he’s absolutely killing it, hitting every beat with fervor. You can feel the strikes of the sticks on his drums in the center of your chest. 

Another guy seems to be the swiss army knife musician: pretty good at almost everything, filling in wherever he’s needed depending on the song. One minute, he’s playing his keyboard and the next, he’s busting out a trumpet, and the next, he’s busting out a guitar. And no matter what he’s playing, he’s playing it with passion. 

The lead singer clearly loves all of the attention he gets. He’s feeding off the crowd’s energy like a cat lounging in the sunlight, basking in every cheer and whistle and fist pumping in the air from the crowd. He practically lives at the edge of the stage, crouching down to sing with the girls but backing up to sing and dance with his bandmates too, bringing them in on some of the harmonies and tying the whole show together.

But by far the unsung hero of this group is the lead guitarist. He hides off to the corner, leg posted up on his amp with the body of his guitar resting slightly on his thigh. He looks down at the instrument carefully watching his fingers strum each cord perfectly, furrowing his brow in concentration during his solos and lifting his head up to the sky. He looks like he feels every note in his blood, expressing it through the expert strum of his fingertips on the strings. He doesn’t have a mic and the singer doesn’t make him sing alongside him very much, but you catch him mouthing all the words and getting into the singing as well. 

He’s a particularly pretty man and your eyes linger on him more than the others, always finding their way back to him, and always during the more raunchy lines of the different songs…

Well, I am imagining // A dark lit place // Or your place on my place

I’ma paint his town red // Then paint his wife white

But I got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears // By now, no doubt we’re heading south // I guess nobody ever taught her not to speak with a full mouth

…but who can blame you when he has such a reserved, cool vibe. Plus, did you mention that he’s really pretty too?

And maybe it’s the couple of drinks getting to you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just crazy, but it seems like every time you look at him, he’s looking away from you. Like he’d been staring and you caught him. You swear he starts to look ever so slightly more flushed, but it’s practically impossible to see with the colored lights flooding the scene. No, you think, that’s crazy. You’re standing in a crowd of people, there’s no way he—

“Hey, I think the guy on lead guitar keeps checking you out!” Erica exclaims over the loud music and singing crowd.

You turn and look at her, eyebrows raised before you turn back to the stage. He does it again, averting his gaze the second he sees you look and you feel a flutter in your chest. He really is checking me out, huh?

You keep staring at him, waiting for him to look back in hopes that you’re looking away. When he lets his eyes wander back to you, you’re still staring. This time, though, he doesn’t look away. His eyes won’t let him now that you’ve caught his attention — like a fly in a spider web.

He turns his body ever so slightly, facing your direction more than anyone else as he plays the rest of the song. The lights focus on him, colorful spotlights of red and blue illuminating his face as he positively shreds his guitar solo. His fingers expertly tap dance across the neck of his guitar, his other hand working double time to strum on beat and hit every single note. You watch in a complete daze as he finishes, sealing off his musical escapade with the smuggest wink right to you.

He put on a show. All just for you.

Something stirs in your belly, a low heat kindling as the band continues to play. Their next song — god, their next song… — really puts the icing on the cake.

The jack of all trades band member busts out a sound board, the sampled sound of a snare drum filling the space, a warped, funky-sounding instrumental following.

You let me violate you // You let me desecrate you // You let me penetrate you // You let me complicate you

The guitarist shares a mic with the guy on the sound board, offering back-up vocals for the song. He’s getting a little bold now, you think.

I broke apart my insides // (Help me) I’ve got no soul to sell // (Help me) the only thing that works for me // Help me get away from myself

He’s locked eyes with you the whole time, changing the tides of who is winning this staring battle for dominance. Each second his gaze stays on you, you feel smaller and smaller, completely at his mercy. He backs away from the mic, preparing to play and licking his lips in a manner obviously made to make you even dizzier than you already are.

I wanna fuck you like an animal  // I wanna feel you from the inside  // I wanna fuck you like an animal // My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to God

He glances back at you from his guitar, a smirk decorating his face before he turns to keep playing the song. You’re in a complete daze. He’s clearly won this battle, and you don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore.

You have to have this man.

Erica caught a some of his little show for you, watching him wink at you and the way your features fell to a focused stare at him. “Girl, get a room next time!” she teases and all you can do is smile back.

When the set is over, you and your friends walk back towards the bar, not wanting to leave just yet. You claim a few of the tiny standing tables, again gathered with Erica at one while the other girls try to cluster around another.

“So…” she starts, giving you a look of anticipation.

“So…?”

“What the hell was going on between you and that guitarist?” she asks, her tone of voice high with excitement.

You laugh, looking down and shrugging your shoulders. “I honestly have no idea,” you say, shaking your head and blushing a little thinking about his little performance. “I thought I was crazy until you said something.”

“Well, whatever it was, you should go for him!” she encourages.

“Please,” you scoff and laugh, “you’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious! While you were having your little… whatever you were having, I was watching the whole band, and the other guys weren’t doing what he did. And he didn’t look at anyone else the way he looked at you.”

You stare at her, a blush creeping up on your cheeks and that small fire in your belly growing a little bigger, a little hotter.

Erica looks up over your shoulder, “Oh my gosh, there they are!”

As if on cue, the band walks through one of the back doors. Having just put away their instruments and whatever other equipment they brought. They saunter in, hair wet from the sweat of performing and lifting all their stuff back into their van. Trailing behind the rest is that damn guitarist. He scans the crowd before he sees you, his expression opening with a bit of an urgency as he quickly finds the bar to grab a beer.

You turn back to Erica, mouth dry and nervous. “Please, you have to go talk to him,” she practically begs.

“No, I- I can’t. I don’t even know what to say,” you plead. “I’m so out of practice.”

“Oh, quit it. I saw you looking at him first. You had him going before he got bold with you. You still have game, go get that man!” she says.

“I don’t know, Erica—” you start, but youre quickly caught off by a tap to your shoulder. You turn around and it’s him.

“Hi,” you say, desperately trying to hide the nerves threatening your vocal chords and smile genuinely at him.

“Hi there,” he says. God, his voice is so deep. You couldn’t hear it in all of its beauty before, but it has a bass to it that rumbles in your bones.

You stare blankly at him for a second before you finally pipe up, “Um, that was a good set you guys played.”

“Thank you,” he chuckles, looking down at his beer and leaning against the edge of the table.

Erica watches with wide eyes before announcing, “Well, I’m empty. I’m gonna go get a refill, okay?” She winks as she walks away leaving you and this mysterious guitarist alone together.

You turn your gaze back to him and fully take in his features now. His eyes have their own glow to them that persists even with the dim stage lights littered around this bar. His hair is patchy from sweat but still sits pretty. His strong features demand your eyes and you’re unable to look anywhere but him.

He extends his hand out to you, “Name’s Joel.”

“Hi, Joel,” you say, shaking his hand and telling him your name. He echoes it and it sounds beautiful off his tongue. “Listen, I--”

“Y’know, you’ve got one of those faces that stands out in a crowd, anyone ever told you that?”

You shake your head, “No, not necessarily.”

“Well trust me, we’ve played our share of shows and none of them had a pretty girl like you in the audience catchin’ my eye every two seconds.”

You blush, starting to gather your mind back from the sudden thrust into a conversation with who you think might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life now that you’ve had time to really study his features up close. “You’re no different yourself,” you offer.

“How so?”

“I’m just saying, you’d think the prettiest member would be the one front and center, not tucked in a corner by an amp.”

His eyes bounce back and forth between your own not breaking contact as he takes another sip of his beer. “I don’t want just anyone lookin’ my way, I guess. You gotta work to see this pretty face.”

“Pretty, indeed,” you agree, stepping ever so slightly closer to him. “You put on quite a show up there.”

He leans down just a bit, closing the gap between the two of you even more, “Well, I did have quite the eager audience, didn’t I?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a moment before Joel starts, never breaking eye contact, “Listen, I don’t really do this… but I also don’t get distracted like I did tonight…”

You inch closer to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… your friends bring you here?” he asks and you glance at the other table where Erica lingers around your other friends and they’re all looking your way, trying not to be obvious and failing miserably.

“No, we took an Uber.”

“Well, what do you say to savin’ that money you’d pay for an Uber and lettin’ me take you home instead?”

Am I really gonna do this?, you think. Call it a gut feeling or whatever you may want, but the way Joel is looking at you, the way he put on a show just for you, how he spotted you in the crowd to strike up a conversation… Erica did say I need to unwind and let loose…

You grin back at him, “Whose home are we talking about?” you ask.

“I think you know, darlin’,” his tone drops low and deep.

A shiver runs up your spine, that ever-growing fire in your belly burning hotter and hotter. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand in his, making it look miniscule in comparison, and walks you towards the back door he came through earlier. You glance back to the bar, the girls still watching and Erica flashing you a smile and a thumb’s up.

Joel leads you to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. You see the backseat loaded with what must be his personal equipment before his door creaks open and he sits inside, the whole truck bobbing from the sheer size of this man.

He pulls you closer across the bench seat until your legs are touching, his hand snaking around your waist as you relax against his figure and his hands trace your sides.

“I meant what I said, y’know. That you stand out in a crowd.”

You turn to look at him as he quickly glances at you and you slowly bring your arms up, one landing behind his neck while the other cups his face. You slowly, softly, tenderly kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck leaving open mouth kisses all over. He tilts his head to the side just a little, humming at the feeling and settling his hand right at the swell of your hip, pulling you even closer into his side and squeezing just a bit.

The drive isn’t long at all. He pulls into a parking spot lining the side of the road and once the car is safely in park, he grabs your face with both hands, kissing you deeply. You hum into his mouth, not expecting the sudden movement, and melt into his lips. His soft, warm lips. Your hands trace his body, the two of you unable to get where you want to be from sitting in this truck.

You pull away from him. “Take me inside.”

He immediately leaves the truck urging you to hop out on his side, offering a hand to help you out but not letting go even typing the code for his apartment and after you walk through the door.

You giggle as he pulls you up the stairs of his complex, the two of you itching to have your hands all over one another. You reach the top and he twirls you around in his grip, grabbing you with one hand by the hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He kisses you with an insatiable hunger, like his life absolutely depends on it, as he backs you up until you’re pinned to the door with his entire body pressed against you. 

He fumbles with his keys for the lock to his apartment door, lips locked onto you, eyes closed, lost in the soft sweetness of your lips. He snakes a hand behind the curve of your back to brace you as the door swings open and he pushes you inside.

Your hands tangle in his hair grabbing the soft, damp strands unable to pull him any closer but wanting every inch of him in your mouth, on your lips, practically in your skin. You bite his lower lip making him moan a little into your mouth and your hands reach around to his face, wanting to stay lost in the ocean of his tongue and cheeks forever.

He pulls you back and you whine, already missing the warmth and taste of his tongue, but your disappointment is short lived. “God, darlin’… Need to have you.” he says, voice low and completely feral as he grabs you under the swell of your ass and you jump into his embrace. Your hands wander back up to his hair, pulling and grabbing as he trails his kisses down your chin, your jaw, your neck, soft sounds escaping his lips with every tug and whimper you give him.

His legs mindlessly take him to his bedroom, knowing the pathway instinctively. His mouth leaves your body for just a moment when plops you down at the edge of the bed, but he’s right back on you in an instant, reaching down to the hem of your top. You lift your arms for him to pull it off and he removes it in one fluid motion. He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra next. “This okay?”

Your chest aches with these little moments of tender sweetness from him and you nod, letting him remove your bra and he does so with skill, not fumbling for even a second as he tosses it to the floor.

His eyes immediately dart down, taking you in. He’s all but drooling, his gaze burning hot against your skin. He sinks to his knees taking one tit in his mouth and sucking on your nipple. Your hands immediately run through his hair holding him onto you and humming at the feel of his mouth on you. His other hand grabs your other tit, massaging it and thumbing your growing bud before redirecting his mouth to the other side too.

His hands drop to your sides and run up along your ribcage trailing towards your back, closing you in and burying his face into your neck peppering kisses and licks and nips there. 

“I gotta have you, baby…” he mutters into your neck. “Lay back on my pillows up there.”

You do as you’re told, lounging against his pillows and the headboard of the bed as he pulls his shirt off over his head and crawls up to meet you, hooking his hands in the belt loops of your jeans. He looks up, his gaze silently asking for permission and you nod. He pulls them down along with your panties in one smooth motion.  

You didn’t think about how worked up you had gotten until your hot core, slick with your arousal, meets the cool air of the room sending a chill across your skin. You watch as Joel’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, subconsciously licking his lips and softly grunting at the thought of diving in.

You open your legs wider, inviting him in and he settles between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs locking you right where he wants you, all spread and open for him.

He immediately gets to work, unable to hold back anymore and expertly licks through your folds. His warm, wet tongue feels amazing on you as it dances across every nerve ending down there, each one sending fireworks across your skin. You whine and lean back, lifting your hips up to meet his mouth and squirming under his face.

His hands gently rub your thighs while he drinks you down, his nose occasionally hitting your clit making you whine. He draws flattened circles with his tongue, the surface area hitting you just right. 

“Yes… fuck yes, that feels so good…” you moan.

He moans back, unwilling to leave you for even a moment and he keeps going. One hand falls from your thigh and you keep yourself open for him as best as you can when you feel his thick, calloused fingers teasing your entrance. He slides his middle finger in easily, so he adds his ring finger too, curling up and finding the softest parts of you. But God, are his fingers huge.

Your walls constrict squeezing his fingers and you leak more slick all over his palm. His other fingers flay across your lips and ass, gripping you slightly and he’s got you locked down. 

His tongue continues at your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, the tips curling up and stroking you perfectly. 

“Right there, Joel… right there… don’t stop… please, don’t stop…” You feel yourself getting closer and closer, the flame burning in your belly all night erupting into a wildfire and igniting every inch of your skin. You feel a tightness start to grow in your belly, inching down your insides as he keeps going, and going, and going, never letting up and reveling in each twitch of your body.

You look up and see him lying flat, his hips subconsciously moving against his boxers and jeans and sheets, getting himself off just from your taste. Finally, he opens his eyes, dark with lust and locks his gaze with you with one especially deep push and curl of his fingers and another wink. That fucking wink. 

“Fuck… fuck…!” It sends you over the edge. The coil snaps and a warm flood fills your body spilling out onto Joel’s hand and into his waiting mouth. He grunts and whines, his tongue never stopping, not even for a second, as he drinks every ounce of your slick getting drunk on your juices.

He only pulls away when you pull him off by his hair, a single line if your arousal still connecting him to you and a groan leaving his lips as he lets you go. You fall back onto the pillow, legs collapsing from their own weight and twitching from your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Joel sits up licking his palm and bringing his fingers up to your mouth, jaw slacked and panting. Your mouth closes around his fingers and he groans, “That’s it, good girl,” he coos and you hum around his digits.

When you fully come back down to Earth, you can’t help but chuckle in the afterglow of your orgasm. Joel rests on his heels gently stroking your knees and you cover your eyes with your forearm, one big sigh leaving your lips. “I guess I should have expected a guitar player to have some skilled fingers,” you joke and Joel chuckles. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not done with you just yet, pretty girl,” Joel teases, holding out his hand to help you sit up. You do and he meets you with a sweet kiss, his hands cupping almost all of your face as he kisses you sweetly.

When he pulls away and you open your eyes, you notice another amp sitting in the corner of the room. This one looks old, unused, and the cable management could use some work, to say the least.

Joel follows your eyeline. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“That’s a lot of cables for a little speaker like that,” you say, following the tangled mess of wires scattered on the floor. “Why don’t you use that one?”

“Jus’ got old. Bought a new one and I didnt need it anymore.”

A depraved idea pops in your head and the question leaves your lips before you can even fully think it through. “Those wires… how strong do you think they are?”

Joel looks back at your face, eyebrow cocked up slightly, “What d'ya mean?”

Your bashfulness catches up quick, a shy blush pricking your cheeks. “I mean… just the outside looks braided, almost… it kinda looks like… I don’t know, kinda like a rope…”

His face softens, a look of intrigue spreading across his gaze. “Go on,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, dripping with sultry tease.

You look up through your lashes feeling more vulnerable that you have to ask specifically (he seems to love it, though). “Well… I guess, how well do you think they’d hold a knot…?”

He bites back a smirk but can’t quite hide his excitement. “Kinky…” he says with a little nod. “I like it.”

He rises from the bed but he doesn’t turn to grab the wires. Instead, he reaches for his belt, the buckle clinking against itself. “But you gotta earn it first, sweet girl.” He pulls his belt out of the loops of his jeans and tosses it to the side. 

He pauses a second before reaching for the button and zipper, enough time for you to crawl to the foot of the bed and rest your hands on his. You slowly move them away and take over, undoing his button and slowly zipping his pants apart. 

You reach under his groin cupping his covered balls in your hand and he hums. He barely fits in your palm and you salivate at what could be beneath those boxers of his. You look up at him with another gentle squeeze before pulling both down, his cock springing out and up against his lower tummy as he steps out of his pants, the tip already red and leaking.

Your eyes widen when you really take in his size and you salivate. You wrap your hand around him and very slowly pump his length, getting a feel for his size and weight and staring at him the whole time.

He looks down at you, eyes still dark and mouth slightly open. “Go ‘head, baby. Kiss it.”

You feel a flutter in your belly again already and you do as he says, kissing the slit before taking the whole head into your mouth and circling your tongue around it. His eyes roll back and he lifts his head up to the ceiling with a groan, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head.

You slowly take him inch by inch making him slick with your spit and using your hand to pump whatever you cant reach. Your other hand gently squeezes his balls and you feel his grip on your hair tighten a bit.

“That’s it, baby… Mouth feels so good f’me…” He starts to slowly push you down his length, taking him deeper and deeper and being careful not to get ahead of himself. 

But then you moan around his length sending lightning up his spine and it feels so fucking good… A guttural groan booms from his chest and he starts to slip, pushing you a little too far a little too fast and you gag, pulling off until it just rests on your bottom lip, spit gathering at his tip and spilling over the corners of your mouth. 

Tears prick the sides of your eyes and his hand reaches down to wipe them away. “Shit— I’m sorry… are you alright?”

You cough and catch your breath, something new and hot burning through your veins. Something about the way he lost all control… “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say when you pull yourself together a little bit. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach up to slowly pump his length again. “Let me try again.”

“You sure, darlin’?”

“I’m sure,” you say, looking up through your tear-soaked lashes, a small smile ghosting your lips as you nod. 

He nods back and you take him in your mouth again, closing your eyes and breathing through it, trying to focus on taking as much of him down your throat as you can.

His hands find the back of your head again, not pushing anymore but tangling through your hair as you work.

He looks down and sees your eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration and taking him so well. He drops a hand back down to your jaw, “Eyes on me, gorgeous.”

You carefully open your eyes to look up at him and when you do, his brows furrow with desperation, unable to look away from you as you bob up and down his length, hands once again pumping the length you can’t reach and massaging his balls.

“Shit, baby… that’s it…” he moans, watching the way your cheeks hollow and lips flush red from taking him. He’s twitching in your mouth and you think you’ve got him, flattening your tongue when he touches the back of your throat and swirling up his length as you pull back.

His abs start to tighten and you taste the slightly salty precum leaking from his tip. You work up the nerve to suppress your gag reflex as best you can, taking a few deep breathes before pushing yourself all the way down, taking his cock up to the hilt.

You stay there, letting your protesting throat constrict around him and he whines, his hand in your hair tightening and making you moan, another bolt of lightning taking over his entire being. His cock jumps in your throat and you think he’s a goner for sure—

He pulls you off his length completely and you gasp for air while he catches his breath too. “Nuh uh, baby. It can’t be over yet,” he says breathlessly.

You pout up at him, your doe eyes almost black from how blown your pupils are.

“Get back on the bed,” he demands.

So you do, rising a little wobbly from your knees and crawling back up onto the bed. Joel walks to the corner of the room and unplugs some of the cords plugged into the old amp. 

He digs around in his nightstand and pulls out a condom before walking back over to the bed where you’re kneeling on the mattress. He sees you eyeing the little packet pinched between his fingers. “What’s th’ matter?”

You look at him, a blush forming on your face. “Oh, I…” Your mouth goes dry and you clear your throat. “…um, you don’t— I mean, I’m on the pill so, um… If you don’t wanna…” you ramble, trying to find your words but failing in your shyness.

He smiles smugly, tossing the condom to the side. “’S okay. I hear you loud and clear.”

You take a relieved breath and watch him stand there as he starts separating the wires. He twirls his finger in the air and you turn your body to face away from him.

“Gimme your hands, darling,” he says, firmly but gently.

You obey, reaching your hands behind your back. His giant hand easily fits both in one grip and he wraps one cable around your wrists.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, facing away from Joel so he can’t see, but you’re sure it’s audibly obvious when you ask “So this must be where the band name came from then, hm?” as he ties a comfortable knot around your wrists.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Fetters. Like restraints. Usually they’re on the ankles but I guess it’s the same principle.”

He breathes a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t help with the name all that much, but I guess ya’ really do learn somethin’ new every day,” he says just as he tightens the loose, but still restrictive, knot around your wrists.

You shimmy in them a little, surprised at how well they hold together. His hands are still there, rubbing over the covering of the cords and brushing against the warmth of your skin.

“These look real pretty on you, y’know,” he mutters from behind you.

You chuckle and ask, “You tell all the groupies that?”

He grabs your chin to face him, eyes scanning over your face for a second and planting a kiss to your lips before a positively devious smirk spreads across his face. Before you know it, he puts his hand on your back gently pushing down so your chest hits the bed. 

“No, I don’t,” he says and you hear his footsteps fade. You sit there, face pressed against the mattress and ass in the air, desperately trying to crane your neck to see where in the world he’s going leaving you like this, all out in the open and exposed.

He treads back into the room and climbs back onto the bed right behind you, calves brushing up against the inside of your own as he grabs your hips to straighten them.

“I don’t tell the groupies nothin’,” he starts. “Usually jus’ ask if they want an autograph.”

The unmistakable click of a Sharpie cap rings in your ears and you feel the cold tip of the pen dragging along the skin right below the small of your back. You gasp, surprised at the unexpected feeling, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man, and you can’t help the butterflies it gives you, the way you mewl so quietly at the thought of him marking you with his name — his signature, no less — in such an intimate place.

You need to find a way to keep this man.

The pen trails off at the end and he recaps the marker, tossing it somewhere to the side before you feel his hands smoothing over your hips. He lets out a low toned, one-note whistle at you, staring at the dark ink branding your lower back. “Now, what a pretty view I have,” he says, a tantalizing, saccharine sweet tone lacing his words.

You can’t hold back the whimper that falls from your mouth at his teasing, his big warm hands rubbing big circles over each cheek. 

He sees you clenching around nothing. “Want me to fuck you now, sweet girl?”

“Yes, please,” you whine, earning you a light tap on your ass.

He pulls on the cords and wraps an arm around your torso, bringing you up flush to his torso and reaching a hand to your mouth. “Gimme some help.”

You spit into his hand and he hums in content. “Atta girl,” he says, gently laying you back down and pumping his length with the wetness. You feel the tip of his cock rub against your folds and you squirm. He grabs your hip with his free hand as he lines himself up to notch right at your entrance. He slowly pushes just the tip in, the pressure making you moan.

“I gotcha, baby. Jus’ relax f’me,” he coos, pushing inch by inch into you letting you adjust to his size. Your walls twitch at the intrusion and your breathing gets heavier, soft sounds escaping your lips. Eventually, he’s up to the hilt and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. You subconsciously swirl your hips, the movement inside making you whine.

“Shit, baby… so fuckin’ tight…” Joel breathes, squeezing your hips and trying not to lose his cool too quickly. His cock bounces and he grunts, taking a minute before slowly pulling out of you as you whine at the loss. It’s short lived, though, because he’s immediately pushing back into you, the stretch and burn pulling a desperate groan from your throat. 

“Fuck yeah, baby. You like how that feels?” he moans, picking up the pace slightly with each thrust. 

“Yes— fuck, feels so good…” you moan. The way his cock drags along your walls makes your belly burn hot. His grip on your hips tight and threatening to bruise if he squeezes any harder, but you couldn’t care less. Just another way for him to mark you as his.

“Squeezin’ my cock so good… she’s achin’, baby…” He’s very talkative, you think and decide to play into it. 

“She’s all yours, Joel. Pussy belongs to you,” you say as you squeeze him again, the pressure in your belly growing with each gentle kiss to your cervix that his tip gives you. 

You feel his pace falter for a second, his grip tightening at that. “Yeah? Say it again. Who’s she belong to?” he says, pounding into you now, unable to keep control of his pace anymore.

You whine loudly with one of his thrusts when he drags up a bit hitting something new inside of you, something your ex surely hadn’t ever found before. Something you definitely had on your own but never this deep…

“Theeere it is,” he coos, pressing your torso down some more to get the angle just right and he’s hitting that soft, spongy part of you with every snap of his hips. You can barely form the words to tell him how fucking good it feels, nonsense whimpers leaving your mouth instead.

“Answer me, baby… Belongs to who?” His pace doesn’t let up and you can’t get the words out. “C’mon, you can do it, gorgeous… tell me…” he insists, slowly rubbing his hand across his own signature that’s been staring back at him.

“Sh… fuck, oh my god… she belongs to you, Joel…”

“That’s my good girl,” he says, leaning down and planting kisses down your spine, snaking a hand around to your front and circling your clit.

You cry out in pleasure, all the sensations getting to be too much. A flood of wetness spills out with a twitch of your insides making Joel’s cock slippery, letting him push in and pull out easier than before. He picks up his pace again with ease, rapidly hurdling you towards the edge.

My good girl…

That one little word finally hits you after a minute. 

My.

His unrelenting fingers on your clit… the way his tip hits your cervix with every snap of his hips… my good girl… it’s all too much. “Fuck… fuck… fuck, ‘mgonnacome…” you mumble in a high pitched whine.

“Fuck yes, baby… come all over my cock, that’s it… feels so fuckin’ good, darlin’…” he moans from behind you, the grip on your hips definitely bruising now as he keeps pounding into you. Your back arches and your whole body writhes as your walls squeeze him impossibly tight. Your vision blurs and you have no control over the downright pornographic sounds escaping your mouth. All you feel is warmth everywhere.

“Holy shit—” you hear Joel but he sounds far away, your head still spinning with pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, baby…” When you feel like you can finally see again, you see a wet spot on the bed and your eyes go wide, quickly craning your head around as best you can and see Joel’s thighs soaked from you.

“Oh, shit— I-I’m sorry, oh my fucking god, I didn’t meant—” you stop mid sentence when Joel plows into you again bottoming out completely, your words trailing off into a wailing moan.

He drags out slowly but quickly regains his momentum. “Fuck, baby… Chokin’ my dick so good… So. Fucking. Hot,” he says, punctuating his words with the slap of his hips on your ass.

Your legs start to give out under you and it’s like Joel already knows you’re almost too gone to take anymore as he unties the knot at your wrists, your arms falling to the bed. He flips you over, managing to stay inside, and lays you on your back. Your hair lays messily on the pillow and Joel leans down to fix it, tracing his fingers along the side of your face and kissing you deeply.

When he pulls away, he stares at your fucked-out eyes, his own completely taken over by his pupils so much that you can barely tell what color they actually are anymore. “Baby, you gotta give me one more…” he begs.

You raise your eyebrows worriedly, unsure if you can actually take anymore. You whine at his ask and he gives you another quick kiss, resting his forehead against your own when he pulls away, your lips barely touching. He’s moving in and out of you at a snail’s pace, so close to his own orgasm that any extra movement would cause him to snap. “Please, baby, I know you can do it. Doin’ so good for me already, just one more…”

You nod weakly and stare through hooded eyes. “Thank you, angel,” he sighs, gently fucking into you a little quicker and peppering kisses at the corners of your mouth. Your hands trail up to his shoulders rubbing up and down on his soft skin. Forehead pressed to yours again, you feel him panting, small moans and whimpers filling your ears.

“Feel so good…” you use all your strength to whimper out, barely above a whisper. His eyes open, brows furrowed in desperation. You feel him twitching hard now, so close to his own orgasm but not wanting this to end.

“S’good, Joel… so big…” He whimpers at your words, his hips moving erratically, unpredictably. He’s close, you think. And it eggs you on.

“Want you to come for me… Please…”

“Yeah? You want it?” he breathes. 

“Please…” you say again in a whimper, grabbing his face in your hands.

“Where, baby? Want it inside?”

“Yes, inside… please, please, please…” you beg.

“Come with me baby… wanna feel you squeezin’ me… fuck— c-can you do that?”

You whine and nod, having been teetering on the edge of overstimulation with another orgasm growing in your belly. You roll your hips slightly into him, the extra movement sending shivers down your spine.

“So close, baby, I can feel it… ‘s right there, she’s chokin’ me…” he grunts out, painfully holding back his own until you come undone under him again.

Which doesn’t take long, a flutter of your heart and one big wave of arousal covering you from head to toe making you see stars. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, unable to even make a sound as you come on his length all over again.

“Fuck… fuck… good girl, ‘m gonna come—”

Joel’s breathing quickens, becoming ragged and broken as he grunts and whines and spills inside of you. His lips press to your forehead suppressing his noises with kisses there as he empties himself inside of you, filling you up completely.

Your hands scrape his back at his shoulders, your senses all blurring into one another. Joel’s weight falls on top of you as he moves his kisses down from your forehead to your nose and finally to your lips, his tongue licking into you as you feel his cock finally stop twitching. He sits back to pull out of you watching as his cum leaks out of you. You whine at the loss feeling empty but still so full from him, shivering as you feel it dripping down your body.

Joel wipes his sweat-ridden brow and sighs with a goofy smile as he looks down at you. Your body is still jolting from your last orgasm. Any more and you would have been overstimulated beyond belief.

“Now that I definitely don’t do with the groupies, sweetheart,” he teases.

You give him a playful glare and chuckle at him. “What about all that autograph nonsense, then?”

“Well, you got the first of its kind. Never signed anyone there before.”

You blush and stretch a little, suddenly feeling that damp spot from earlier. You sit up in panic and sit back leaning against his pillows again. “Shit, Joel. I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before, I—”

“Stop,” he cuts you off. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. Sheets can be washed.”

“But I made a mess—”

“C’mere, baby,” he says, extending a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you towards him, both of you on your knees facing each other as his arm snakes around your torso pulling you even closer into him. “‘M gonna get you cleaned up, ‘kay? Got a spare bedroom we can use anyway.”

You stare into his eyes, his words bouncing around in your head. We can use. “We?” you ask.

He scrunches his eyebrows, raising one at you. “What, you wanna run away already? Was it that bad?” he jokes.

“Oh, quit,” you say, playfully hitting his shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, standing up at the end of the bed and holding his arms out to you. “C’mon, pretty girl, how’s a warm bath sound, hm?”

“Sounds amazing, actually.” You grab his hands and stand up, taking a second to get your balance before following Joel to the bathroom.

When you’re all cleaned up, you walk into his living room wearing one of his t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and some very oversized socks that he left in the bathroom for you to change into, towel drying the rest of your hair so it's not dripping everywhere. He sits on his couch, fresh pajamas on and dampened hair from the shower he took in the other smaller bathroom.

He taps the space next to him inviting you to sit, TV on and low, playing some random movie he found to fill the silence around him while waiting for you. You curl up into him, you warm from your bath and him warm from relaxing. He squeezes you close, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

Erica was right. You really did need this. Maybe it's stupid that you're growing so fond of this guy and you've known him for just a night, but there really is something about him. Something you can't quite explain...

You spend the rest of the night curled up next to Joel, your entire being content and you can only think one thing:

You’re not letting this one go easily. This one’s gonna be yours.

All yours.

a/n : thank y'all again so much for 100 followers, it means so much seriously 💜🫶🥹 and thank you for reading this fic that absolutely got away from me in the end, this idea tortured me for weeks and hopefully letting him out into the world will give me some peace finally 😭 but really, thank you guys so much and i hope everyone enjoys !!

[bestiesenpai]

sukuna bridgerton au

If you get mad at me for this then you’re no fun, he’s a little ooc in this but im world building! I intend to write more! Mini blurbs/fics and build a whole universe! Gosh! Tried to be accurate to regency era stuff but also took liberty with some things 6k words

part two — part three -- part four

Femme reader, you’re a proper young miss aint ya kekw

You are perfect. The Queen's diamond of the season and someone everyone knew by name. There is nothing you have not been prepared for, no social setting that you are unable to make your own. Since you were born your parents had instilled every rule in society onto you, every skill a young lady should have and even some men have as well, to cover every possible avenue.

Perfect indeed, with not only needlework and the pianoforte, but you spoke more than one language and were delightfully decent at drawing. Learning the harp and more advanced bookkeeping skills were on your current roster, the governess keeping not only you but your siblings busy before the beginning of all the balls and suitors calling for your attention.

“(Y/N), there are a great deal of callers outside waiting for your attention.” Your mother debriefed you at the start of the day, after having the maids dress you to her exact specifications. “You remember what I taught you, yes?”

“Yes. Be courteous and make sure to smile, but not too much or they might get the wrong idea. I shouldn’t appear to know too much about one subject, lest they get discouraged from speaking.”

“Perfect.” Snapping her fingers happily, your mother put a hand on your shoulder and sighed, smoothing down the sleeve of your dress. “I am so proud of the person you’ve become, (Y/N). I hope you know that.”

“I do, mother.” Hugging her tightly, you steeled your nerves. She had done the best possible for you your whole life to ensure you would be ready for the society you live in and to hopefully elevate your station in life, one that could afford you even more comfort than you had now.

“Bring the first one in.” Your father announced, ushering the two of you to come to a stand as the doors were opened and the first gentleman of the day came in, a modest but endearing bouquet of flowers in his hands. Making sure to curtsy immediately, you welcomed him in and brought him to the sofas where a proper conversation could be had.

And that went on for ages, one after the other, until you feared your voice would go hoarse from all the talking and fake laughter you had to do. It wasn’t that the men that came to see you were bad in any way, just that you hoped for a bit more excitement upon entering the season. There had yet to be anyone that swept you off your feet, made you wish they stayed just a bit longer and looked at you a bit more.

“Mother, may we stop for today?” You were unable to hold your posture anymore and your back bent considerably, allowing you to relax and look out the window at the sun slowly fading from afternoon to early evening.

“We may. Send the rest away, let them schedule for another time.” Motioning to a footman, your mother conceded to your wishes. “It’s about time for dinner, is it not?”

“Mr. Downey, that old man called upon you?” The next day, a chorus of giggles could be heard in the park from you and your friends. You were recounting all the visitors you had, not sparing a single detail.

“Yes!” You laughed, unable to contain yourself as you strode arm in arm with them around the park lake. “But Father wouldn’t let him step a single toe into the parlor, told him to go down to the alleys he’s usually found in!”

“Oh dear!” Another round of shouts and laughs left the group, boisterous as ever as you all were excited for the upcoming ball at the end of the week being held by the Queen herself. Her royal advisor had seen to it that you were personally handed an invitation at the modiste this morning, letting everyone see the fanfare and the adoration the Queen so had for you.

“(Y/N), you really are Her Majesty’s favorite diamond!” Someone exclaimed, squeezing your hand tightly. “I can’t remember the last time she did something like this!”

“I wonder what it could all mean.” Another girl wonders aloud, making you all come to a stop and think. “I bet there’s some aristocrat in town she wants to impress!”

“Could you imagine!” You jump up slightly, your mind beginning to race. “And me as Her Majesty’s precious diamond at the center…” A flurry of giggles left the group and you began to walk again, chattering excitedly about the future.

The time for the ball came and you were dressed in the finest silks and jewels the modiste had to offer, and a dainty necklace laid on your neck adorned with small diamonds of its own. Butterflies arose in your stomach on the carriage ride over and by the time you arrived you worried about fainting upon standing.

“Stay close.” Your mother tells you, keeping your arm in the crook of hers as you enter the party behind your father, your other siblings behind you as well. Entering the main ballroom, you try not to openly gawk at the grandiosity of it all; there was a large orchestra in the middle of the room, peacocks milling about the garden just outside the open doors and too many servants to count carrying hors d'oeuvres that looked absolutely divine.

“A drink, miss?” One of them approached with a tray of cocktails which you swiftly accepted, eager to fit in with the other patrons. Taking a sip, you were nearly knocked back from the strong bite of alcohol and almost let your composure slip.

“(Y/N).” Your mother squeezed you in warning, never letting the smile slip from her face as her tone conveyed high stress. “Do not mess this up.” And those were her final words to you before you were ushered further into the room.

Quickly righting yourself, you followed your mothers steps in introducing you to everyone and making sure to show you off to eligible bachelors and their families of high titles. Your heart pounded upon meeting earls and marquess’, forcing yourself to not appear too awestruck of a title; appearing perfectly pleased at the information and not showing favor one way or another.

“Time to greet Her Majesty.” Your mother whispered, subtly gesturing to the entourage entering the room and causing quite a stir amongst your fellow partygoers. As she took her seat, you couldn’t help but notice the two empty chairs seated behind the queen and how she looked miffed that one was not being filled upon her arrival.

Milling about so as not to appear too eager, roughly five minutes passed before you made your way over to the queen. The drink you’d been nursing was finally empty and you could feel the burning effects of the alcohol take place, making your face burn and palms sweaty beneath your gloves.

“Your Majesty.” Speaking for the both of you, your mother led you into a curtsy. Standing straight, you let your eyes wander to the chairs, wondering who could be missing from such an event.

“My diamond.” Her Majesty reached out her hand which you instantly took, softly kissing the skin and giving another curtsy.

“Your Majesty.” You responded in kind, giving her a somewhat nervous smile. “This is a beautiful party.” Looking around, you finally let your true feelings show for a moment as you properly soaked it all in. “I am amazed at how you manage to throw such exquisite soirees each season.”

“Oh how you flatter me!” A light chuckle left Her Majesty’s lips and she allowed you to look around a bit more before speaking again. “Tell me, have any suitors caught your eye?”

“Well…” Looking back at your mother, you let out a breathless chuckle. “None have truly captured me, Your Majesty. Some interest me and others vex me, but no one has yet to steal my heart.”

“That is very pleasing.” She grinned, knowing something you did not. “Very pleasing indeed.” Waving over one of her attendants, she whispered something into their ear and off they went as if they had never been there at all. “Take to the floor, my dear, I shall call upon you soon again.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Majesty.” Curtsying again, you and your mother left to go enjoy the party. It wasn’t clear what the Queen had in mind but every time you looked over your shoulder you found her eyes on you and that made you nervous enough to get another drink and not care about the taste.

“Mother, I must use the restroom.” Hardly finished with the glass, you felt an upset in your stomach that couldn’t be ignored. Waiting just enough time for her to excuse you from the group you’d been speaking with, you rushed out of the room and down the hall, thankfully guided by servants to the nearest restroom.

Relieving yourself rather quickly, you were in no hurry to return to the party. This was the first time you were in the palace and your curiosity couldn’t help but get the better of you. Looking over your shoulder a few times, you walked as casually as possible down the hall in the opposite direction. Marveling at the grandeur, you hardly took note of where you were going until a loud thud brought you out of your thoughts. Looking around, you realized you were quite far from the party, the sounds of the orchestra a distant buzz.

“Fuck!” The vulgarity of the word along with its suddenness nearly knocked you to the ground. Grabbing at your necklace, you shuddered at the next few words that came out; this wasn’t proper for a lady to hear at all. Locating the source from an open doorway, you intended on closing it until you caught a glimpse of what was inside.

A completely naked woman was being pinned to a bookshelf by a man with his pants around his thighs, the violent motion of his hips leaving nothing to the imagination. She looked to be in pain, wincing and whining every so often as the man just kept going. He took so little notice of her, in fact, that her head hit the shelves a few times and although she cried out he didn’t falter.

“Fuck!” He yelled again, grabbing the woman's hair and forcing her head to the side. He did finally slow down and straighten up a bit, finally allowing you to see his pink hair. “Fucking whore.” And just like that, the relative slowness was gone and back was this man's brutality. Forcing the woman to walk over to the desk a bit closer to you, you quickly ducked out of the way before you saw something you shouldn’t. It was quiet for a moment and there was a shuffling sound before the door was ripped open further and you couldn't help the shout you let out.

“Who the fuck- oh. Oh?” The man was clearly ready for a fight but upon seeing you, his face changed into a sly smile. He at least had the decency to dress himself, though you kept your eyes trained onto his face and occasionally the ceiling to preserve your modesty. “Well, aren’t you a ravishing creature…come to join the fun?”

“Absolutely not!” Leaping back at his proposition, your face curled in disgust. He laughed loudly, fully taking in your appearance.

“No of course not, why would you? You are a lady, so prim and proper.” He stretched the word out, almost mocking you with the connotation. “You belong at the party, Miss, so run along before someone catches us alone and we’ll be forced to marry.” Raising his hand in goodbye, the man left you, laughter still on his lips as he slammed the door closed.

All but running back to the party, you avoided your mother in favor of going out to the garden with a few friends that were thankfully in attendance; a chance to marvel at the peacocks and performers outside would give you a chance to catch your breath and forget about what you’d just seen.

“Miss (Y/N), the Queen calls for you.” A servant notified you just as the air turned a bit too chilly for your liking. Bidding your friends farewell, you made your way inside. The polite smile on your face dropped immediately at seeing just why the queen summoned you.

“Ah, my diamond.” Her affectionate tone forced the smile right back on your face but your eyes stayed glued to the person behind her. There, dressed in the finest fabrics and with his cravat intricately tied, was the man you’d seen earlier. As he stood at the Queen’s motion, you noticed the freshly pressed pants and shiny boots he had on and the dazzling watch dangling from a chain.

“This is my nephew, you might have heard of him. The Crown Prince, Ryomen Sukuna.” As she spoke, the Queen's voice grew louder, drawing the attention of everyone within earshot and even those that didn’t hear. “I’ve invited him here personally just to meet you.” A small smirk adorned her face as she took in the crowd before her and the stir her words caused. And it grew even bigger upon seeing your face, the horrored expression mistaken for overjoy.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss (Y/N).” Sukuna made a show of bowing deeply to you.

“Come, sit down and chat for a while, won’t you?” Her request was truly a demand and you knew better than to hesitate or question it, so you nodded and did as you were told.

Taking a seat, you kept your body rigid and faced straight ahead, not even giving so much as a glimpse to your side where you could tell the Crown Prince was watching you. You knew it wasn’t proper and that people - your mother especially - were watching to see how you two got on, but you couldn’t bear to turn and have a conversation with the man you’d just seen in such an uncouth position.

“It truly is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Sukuna said, a light chuckle on his lips. “Never thought the beauty I saw earlier would end up being the diamond of the season.”

“I believe you’re mistaken! We did not see each other earlier, Your Highness. This is the first time we are meeting.” Turning your head swiftly, you forced a smile onto your face instead of the scowl you wanted to show him.

“Yes, my mistake! Must have been another fair maiden that caught my eye.” Sukuna chuckled, settling into his chair just a bit more. He let a pause hang between you before he spoke again. “Tell me, diamond, do you wish to marry this season?”

“Of course I do.” You nodded, allowing yourself to relax a little as well. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I made my debut.”

“And what are you looking for in a husband?”

“I want one that is kind, that is loyal to me and whom I can get along with no matter what. And if he likes the arts such as I do, that would be even better.” An answer that you had rehearsed many times with your mother, the words came out of your mouth smoothly.

“Interesting.” Sukuna nodded, folding his hands over each other. “Now, tell me how you really feel.”

“I-I just did.” Quirking a brow at him, you were unsure why Sukuna required more from you on the matter.

“I can tell those aren’t your real words. Tell me how you truly feel.” His face was neutral but not serious or uncomfortable; he seemed to genuinely want an answer from you.

“I…” It took a while but eventually the thoughts you’d suppressed in favor of your mothers came to the surface and you looked down at your gloved hands. “I want someone I can be myself with, someone I won’t need to put on a mask for. And a husband that can value my privacy and give me my own space.” There was more you wanted to say but you stopped yourself; no use in rambling to the man when you could save it for your diary later.

“That’s good to hear, actually.” His response surprised you and had you turning more towards him.

“Really?” There was a tinge of hope growing inside you, one that said maybe the man from earlier wasn’t who he truly was.

“Yes. I’ll need a wife that can leave me the hell alone.” And with that, the tinge died out and your face fell.

“Wh-what?”

“Yes, as you will undoubtedly hear about later I enjoy some rather…unconventional pastimes and leisurely activities and if we are to be wed I’ll take great joy in the fact that you won’t interfere with that.”

“But I-”

“Oh don’t worry, Miss (Y/N), I will give you all the babies you desire if you so wish, but just know my heart will never belong to just one woman. It’s not the way royalty does it, I’m sure you can understand.” Giving you a tight lipped and condescending smile, Sukuna stood from his chair and excused himself, mentioning something about getting the two of you a drink.

“So, what do you think of my nephew?” The Queen asked when he was out of earshot, turning slightly in her chair to look at you.

“He- he is a good conversationalist.” You forced the words out, hoping that the Queen wouldn’t be able to pick up on how your eyes were growing misty despite your best efforts to blink the tears away. “I quite enjoyed some of the ideas he’s shared with me.”

“Wonderful, darling.” There was a tension in the air, like she knew what had happened between the two of you. But she chose not to say anything, instead turning back around as the orchestra played the next song. “Sukuna.” She caught him as he came back, two glasses in hand.

“Yes?” His eyes flicked to you for a moment.

“Dance with Miss (Y/N), will you? I want her to enjoy the party.” The tension in the air was back and Sukuna nodded and swiftly put the glasses down. Standing before you, he offered you his hand.

“Right this way.”

“Of course.” Inhaling sharply, you forced your feelings down and took his hand, letting him lead you to the dance floor. As the song began to start up, you could feel the eyes on you, watching your every move with the Prince and the chemistry you had when dancing.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Sukuna said quietly, his hands resting on your upper back a moment before taking a few steps. “I simply want you to know the truth if you accept the proposal.”

You didn’t respond to him, letting the words soak in. In the moment it had seemed almost cruel that he had spoken to you like that, said those things and dismissed your feelings, hopes and dreams, but thinking about it gave you another perspective. You knew many men in town that had affairs and secret lovers that would never admit it but here was a man that was willing to be honest with you. A man that had no obligation to spare your feelings or protect them.

“Why did you even agree to come then, if that is how you truly feel about marriage?” You finally spoke, looking into his eyes.

“You know as well as I do that we have a responsibility to do this, to get married and play these silly societal games. When my aunt called me I had no choice but to come, you can’t exactly say no to the woman. And I figured why not meet her precious diamond and see what she had to offer, see if I could build the life the world expects of me with her.”

“And what is your verdict?” Sukuna spun you around as you asked and your head laid briefly on his shoulder, catching the scent of his perfume before you were twirled away again.

“I think you’d make a lovely bride, Miss (Y/N). There may be some hardships but I believe we could learn to be happy with each other and our arrangements.” Spinning you a few more times, Sukuna gently helped you to a stop. “I ask you to be aware of what the Queen will ask you soon, what I will be asking you soon. You can always say no.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” As the dance ended, you curtseyed and excused yourself. Slinking away to the refreshments table, you had nary a chance to sip some lemonade before a few more men approached, asking to write in your dance card.

As the night wore on, you danced with many more suitors and eligible young men about town, some that had already called on you and others that were waiting their turn. Some of them were dukes and earls and even a marquess came to you, but none held as high a title as Sukuna did. And with your parents eyes on you, you knew that was what mattered the most.

Going through everyone in your mind, there wasn’t a doubt that some would definitely be better matches for you than Sukuna in the realms of compatibility and chemistry but none would be as wise a choice as he was. Marrying a crown prince of all people would solidify your station in life forever; you and your family would want for nothing and you’d never have to worry about needing to follow the latest trends in fashion because you would be the one setting them.

“His Highness Prince Sukuna surely took a liking to you tonight.” Your mother was alight on the carriage ride home, fanning herself ardently. “Why, I do believe the Queen intends on you to be married before the season is over!”

“From a baroness to a princess, how marvelous that would be!” Unable to stop his excitement either, your father chimed in. It seemed they had already accepted the Prince's proposal on your behalf even though it hadn’t come yet. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that he wasn’t really a good fit for you, that you worried you’d never be truly happy in the marriage and you’d always feel less than when it came to how he felt about you.

“Delightful indeed.” Was what you said instead, allowing your parents to revel in this moment and trying to convince yourself that it couldn’t be that bad to marry a prince, especially if it meant that one day you’d be a queen.

May 14

Diary, I fear that I won’t be able to back out of this arrangement even if I say no to it like Sukuna said I could. If I say no, I know I will have many other suitors knocking at my door but none as prestigious as he is and I can’t bear to possibly face the disappointment of my family if I deny them this great opportunity.

I know I wouldn’t be the first or the last to enter into a marriage like this but I had truly hoped that I could have escaped that fate and found real love, true love! It’s rare but a girl can dream, especially one named as the Queens diamond. You’d think I’d have more time to decide on who to marry!

I suppose I have no choice but to say yes to this, don’t I? Sukuna said he would give me my privacy, so I can at least continue to write here without fear of being judged. I just wonder what the life of a princess will entail and how many new rules will I be forced to learn?

Here's hoping that we can at least grow to have a liking for each other over time, but I know better than to wait around for love.

XX

It was a few days after the ball before you heard word from either Sukuna or the Queen. You knew it was coming but the anxiety of waiting had you pouring too much energy into the other men that called you.

“A visitor for Miss (Y/N) has arrived.” It was announced one afternoon, immediately kicking your heart into overdrive. It was a good thing you had felt the need to dress a little nicer today as your visitor presented himself, none other than the prince.

“Your Highness!” Your mother exclaimed, overjoyed and forcing your siblings to stand as well and greet him. They all bowed or curtseyed, some too young to understand exactly who they were greeting.

“Good day to you all.” Sukuna gave a small bow in return, eyeing up your family before turning to you. “Miss (Y/N), I was hoping we might promenade today around the park? The weather is quite lovely and there are a fair amount of swans out there I’m told.” His offer surprised you, you were sure he was going to ask for your hand right then and there.

“That would be lovely.” You nodded, looking back at your mother who would no doubt chaperone this outing. “Allow me to grab my purse and a shawl.” Excusing yourself, it took no less than five minutes for you to be ready and heading out the house with Sukuna by your side, your entire family not but five feet behind you.

“I’m surprised you called upon me today.” You said upon reaching the park, waving to a few friends who were also on dates. “I was certain that the next time I saw you there would be a ring put upon my finger.”

“Young Miss, please have more faith in me. I thought it only right to court you as the others have, to see if we are truly to be a good match or not.” Sukuna put a hand over his heart in jest.

“Was that your idea or the Queens?”

“I’ll be honest it was her idea, but I have no problem going along with it. It’s only right that we get to know each other a bit more before we are wed.”

“You talk so certainly that I’ll say yes! Who said I wanted to marry you?” His arrogance was starting to annoy you, and the fact that he couldn’t even feign that he was the one interested in learning more about you irritated you to no end.

“Please, would you even think of saying no?” Sukuna quirked a brow at you as you came to a stop to admire a pair of swans. “I am the best match you have to make, one that would elevate your status so highly it would make your head spin. And beside…” He trailed off, looking around at the people in the park. “This sorry lot you associate with aren’t exactly highbrow to begin with.”

“That’s enough!” You shouted, taking a step back from him. A few curious looks were sent your way and you could see your mother start to approach from the corner of your eye before your father stopped her. “Do not dare speak of my friends in such a manner. What would you know of being highbrow anyway, what with the pastimes you partake in!”

“Miss (Y/N), I did not mean to upset you.” Sukuna spoke a little louder for the inquiring minds around you. “Please accept my apology.” And he bowed his head deeply in a show of submission.

“Do not mock me.” You hissed, crossing your arms and turning back to the lake. “I can’t believe I thought you could be a real gentleman.”

“Oh, but I can be.” Resuming his previous position, Sukuna squared his shoulders.

“Only when others are watching though, right?” You began walking again, letting Sukuna fall into step beside you. As a relative quiet fell over you two, you looked at everyone else walking about, seemingly so happy with their matches. A pang of jealousy hit you upon seeing a group of your girl friends out with their matches, laughing happily and getting to enjoy a true love match instead of whatever you were stuck in now.

There was little conversation between the two of you, but to the outside world it looked as if you were just taking a quiet stroll and letting the sounds of nature surround you. Anyone looking in would think that you’re content just being in each other's presence and don’t need words to communicate.

“Let’s stop at a cafe, I’m parched.” You announced, suddenly spotting the building across the street.

“Yes, let's.” Sukuna agreed immediately, following your lead. Opening the door for you and your family, Sukuna made a show of buying everyone something, even your father. With your family scattered about the shop, you and Sukuna took a seat by the window, a place where everyone could walk by and see you together.

“How do you like your parfait?” He asked, sipping on the plain coffee he got himself. Your mother insisted he get a croissant as well and he pulled a piece off and ate it.

“It’s delicious.” With fresh in season fruit throughout, it was a sweet treat you didn’t know you’d been craving. “Thank you.”

“Tell me what it is you like to do for fun.” Leaning back in his chair, Sukuna peered over his glass at you. You felt the urge to correct him on his posture but held back, knowing he would probably just laugh at you.

“I’ve recently taken up the harp and I quite enjoy it, it can be such a calming instrument. I also enjoy the pianoforte, though recently I’ve taken up reading a new book.”

“Reading is quite boring, is it not?” Sukuna smirked at you, enjoying how you fought to keep your expression neutral. “I can’t remember the last time I read.”

“I’m surprised you can read at all.” You rolled your eyes, finding small gratification in how he laughed.

“Me too!” Taking a hearty bite out of his pastry, Sukuna grinned at you, showing the sharp edge of his canines. “I think I’ll like having you as a wife.”

“You shouldn’t be so confident in my acceptance of your proposal, Your Highness.” With a warning tilt to your voice, you took a sip of tea. “I can very well say no to your whole courtship right now and be done with it.”

“But you and I both know you won’t. You wouldn't want to risk the ire of the Queen or your family. And neither would I, Miss (Y/N). I’m tired of being hounded to find a wife and you are the easiest decision ever made for me.”

“You could at least pretend you’re interested in me.” He had a point, you knew little people that went against what the Queen wanted and weren’t shunned for it. There were a great deal of pros outweighing the cons in marrying Sukuna from an economical point of view, but could you find it in you to put your heart aside?

“Trust me, I am plenty interested in you.” His gaze fell downwards and your face immediately started to burn.

“Don’t make me throw my tea on you.” You glared sharply at Sukuna, your tone daring him to continue and for his sake he didn’t and his eyes returned to yours.

“My apologies, Miss. Just admiring a beauty before me.” That statement made a passing few girls giggle and swoon to themselves and you could hardly hold back another eye roll.

Your outing was done shortly after your trip to the cafe with your youngest siblings complaining they were tired. The Prince escorted you home, bowing to you once more and waiting until you were inside before turning and leaving.

“Tell me what that outburst was at the park.” Your mother descended on you the second she got, following you up the stairs to your bedroom.

“The Prince isn’t as fine and dandy as you think he is, he called the ton a bunch of idiots.” You didn’t bother keeping your voice down as you walked, just the thought of what he’d said upset you all over again.

“Why, he is a Prince! Of course we will be simple to him, he is used to so much more!” She argued, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “He meant no harm, I’m sure.”

“Mother.” Turning to face her before opening your door, you sighed upon making eye contact. “I wish I could tell you even half of the things I learned about him…the Prince is not the man you think he is.” You repeated your previous statement; your lip caught between your teeth as you debated telling her more. “I don’t know if I can marry him.” The words made your mother gasp in horror and push a hand over your mouth.

“(Y/N), please tell me you don’t mean it. Please tell me you are just playing a sick joke.” She couldn’t bear to hear you say otherwise. You stared at each other, both of you pleading for different things. The heartbreak in her eyes was evident and she took a step back and composed herself. “V-very well, if that is how you feel I will not force you.”

“Mother…” Your voice trailed off at how downtrodden she looked, it nearly brought you to tears.

“No, please do not say any more. I-I need time to come to terms with this.” Smoothing down her dress, she looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was eavesdropping. The silence allowed for the noises of others in the house to be heard; two brothers fighting over chess, a sister playing the piano. “I will be in the sun room should you need me.”

She left without consequence, calling for a maid to bring her some lavender tea. Finally entering your room, your body pushed the door closed and you sank onto the floor, letting your head fall into your hands. This wasn’t what you wanted to happen in the slightest and now just the prospect of rejecting his proposal was putting immense guilt onto you. Seeing your mother so hurt, imagining the looks on your siblings faces and what your father could possibly say were all too much for you.

May 18

I fear I have made a grave error. It wasn’t my intention to hurt my mother but just the idea of me not marrying a prince was enough to make her beside herself with grief, she was hardly able to look at me during dinner. And I know she’s told father because he was the same way!

Am I really taking away my family’s happiness this much? Am I being selfish by refusing? I think I’m learning now that a marriage, especially this one, is not just between two people. There’s so many others that it affects!

I think I’ll reconsider my rejection - after all, not many can say they were named the diamond and married a crown prince their first season out. I know Sukuna will give me my space if I request and not question me on things…is this potential life worth giving up my hopes of love?

I truly hope it is.

XX

At breakfast the next morning you informed your parents of the change of heart and the sullen mood that was looming over them was washed away in an instance.

“I knew you would come to your senses, girl.” Patting you gently on the shoulder, your father smiled big. “It’s easy to get swept up in nerves during this whole thing but I’m glad you’ve thought about how this marriage will be good for you - for all of us.”

Your siblings were thankfully none the wiser to what had transpired and they begged to be informed. Ignoring them, your mother reached for your hand across the table and squeezed it.

“We must go to the modiste later.”

“What for?” You sent her a curious look, you’d just been there the other day for a fitting!

“For your wedding dress.”

[fairyhaos]

[22:35 PM] — seungcheol .

req by anon, 435 words, no warnings, fluff, husband!cheol

For some people, they might say the highlight of their day is waking up to the sun every morning. Or going out for a walk at lunch, watching as people live their lives. Or when they come home at the end of the day, put their feet up, and turn on the television.

For you? Well, the highlight of your day is when you lie in bed at night with Seungcheol.

"Babe?"

Seungcheol hums, and the action makes his chest vibrate slightly next to your ear, and you smile. "Hm?"

"I think," you say slowly, "that we should get a hamster."

"A hamster?" Seungcheol repeats, his voice an amused rumble. He has a hand in your hair as you lay on his chest, fingers massaging your scalp. "Why do you want a hamster?"

"I dunno," you say, and the hand you have wrapped around his waist begins to mindlessly draw circles into his side. "They're just so cute and adorable. I want a hamster."

"You do?" he chuckles, his hand moving from your hair and down to your back, warm and comforting. The sheets rustle when his ring gets snagged on the decorative embroidery of the duvet covers, and you shuffle further up his chest to allow his hand to settle on the small of your back.

"Yeah. Hamsters are so small and sweet."

He takes your hand from around his waist, and lightly kisses the ring you have on your left hand, identical to his own. "We already have something small and sweet, love."

"We do?" you ask, and the room is dark but as you look up at him you can see him smiling softly.

"Yeah." He pauses, grins. "Kkuma."

You take your hand out of his and slap him on the chest. Seungcheol laughs, and rubs your back soothingly with one hand, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Okay, okay. I'm joking. It's you, obviously. We already have an adorable and beautiful you."

You smile, placated, as he takes your hand again and interlaces your fingers. "Hm. Okay. Maybe we don't need a hamster."

"Besides," Seungcheol says after a moment, "we could always ask Soonyoung to be our hamster if we really wanted one."

That makes you chuckle, and Seungcheol laughs too, the sound warm and fond. "You're right, you're right."

You snuggle into his chest further, listening to his heart beating, steady and firm. "I'm going to sleep now," you tell him.

He hums, softly, and kisses your hand one more time before letting your interlaced fingers rest on his stomach. "Okay."

"I love you."

Seungcheol smiles. "I love you too."

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @cinnamoroxie @butiluvu @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! I just recently discovered your blog and I’m in love with your Spencer fic’s. :)) Could you perchance write one where reader is sick and Spencer takes care of her??

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 792 words

“I’m fine,” you croak. 

“You’re not fine,” says Spencer, stirring honey into your tea. “You let this go too long without resting, and now it’s bad.” 

You inhale, looking like you’re going to disagree, but a coughing fit supersedes you. The force of it bends you over, and Spencer rubs your back, wincing. You sound like you’re hacking up a lung.

“Okay,” you say once you can, still coughing weakly. “You’re right, I’m dying.” 

“You’re not dying either.” A smile tugs at his lips. “You just need to rest. Is anything bothering you, other than your throat?” 

You shake your head. 

Spencer eyes you skeptically, passing over your tea. You’re infamous for this sort of downplaying. You’d been so good at covering up that you were feeling sick that even your FBI profiler boyfriend hadn’t been able to spot it until a couple of days ago, and even then you’d managed to convince him it was mild enough to go to work until he’d heard you coughing in the shower this morning. Spencer still isn’t sure if, when he’d come home today to find you flushed and miserable in the bed, you’d gotten worse or only stopped hiding it. 

 “Really, nothing?” he asks. “You don’t have any other symptoms?” 

You shrug. “Just other normal sick stuff.” 

“Tell me about them. How do you feel?” 

You frown, blowing on your tea. “Hot and dry. I feel like my entire body needs chapstick. And I’m tired, I guess.” 

Spencer frowns. He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers stoke down your overwarm cheek. “You look terrible,” he says. 

You snort. Your cough latches onto it as an opportunity, and you launch into another fit. “Ow,” you wheeze, putting a hand to your chest. “Thanks, you’re really—really wooing me, Spence.” 

“No, I’m sorry,” he laughs, somewhat nervously. “I just meant that you look so sad, honey. I don’t like seeing you so sick.” 

“Me neither,” you admit. You take a scratchy breath in, deep as you can without it catching. You look like you’re savoring it. 

He feels his eyebrows draw together compassionately. “You should try to sleep.” 

“It’s barely six. I don’t want to sleep.” 

“You don't have to wait until it’s late to go to sleep. It might make you feel better.” 

“I know, I just…I don’t want to.” 

Spencer looks at you for a while, thinking of what to do with you. Your tea is still too hot to drink. He’d bought you cough drops on his way home, but you’d already had so many throughout the day that now you say they’re making your mouth feel sore and raw, and you don’t want to take them if you can help it. Maybe he could have you gargle saltwater…

“You should stay at your place tonight,” you tell him gently. “I don’t want to get you sick.” 

He knew you would say that. He’s practically moved into your apartment, though he keeps his basically as a storage unit at this point. Whereas Spencer has filled his apartment with enough things for one person (one towel hook in the bathroom, one nightstand, only one really good pillow on the bed), your apartment looks like you’ve always assumed you’d eventually share it. The first time Spencer came over, you already had fuzzy socks for guests, enough towels for an army, and two really, really great pillows on the bed. It made him realize that his apartment was really just a place to sleep; yours was a home. He never wants to leave, but certainly not while you’re like this.

“I won’t get sick,” he lies. (He definitely will. He’s already been exposed to you for days already and his immune system has never had his back.) “And anyway, how will I teach you chess from my apartment?” 

You groan. 

“This is really the best time,” Spencer says, going into the living room to grab the chess board you’d let him keep here. “You’ll never have more free time than when you’re sick. And this way, you won’t get bored.” 

“Sure about that?” you ask wryly as he comes back in, but you’re smiling. 

“Unless you want to try to sleep?” 

You look like you’re actually considering it. “When I was little and I got sick, I used to play mad libs.” 

Spencer feels his face screw up. “I don’t really like that game. They never make any sense at the end.” 

“That’s the point,” you laugh. A weak cough follows it. “Anyway, I’m sick. I promise I’ll let you teach me to play chess soon.” 

“You’re sick,” he allows, setting the chess board on the floor. Not that you don’t get what you want the rest of the time anyway.

[arrthurpendragon]

OC Creator Mini Bingo!

I want to try to put some positive energy back into the OC Community, so I'm going to be hosting an OC Creator Mini Bingo event for the month of September!

THIS IS OPEN TO ALL OC CREATORS! FANFICTION AND ORIGINAL STORY! OLD AND NEW OC CREATORS! POSTED STORIES AND PLOT BUNNY OCS! 

Kudos if you reblog this and tag some friends you think might be interested! :)

GOOGLE FORM SIGN UP (I’m not collecting emails)

GOOGLE DOC OF PARTICIPANTS (Please give me at least a day to update from the Google Form to the Google Doc)

Keep reading to find out more about the event!

What is OC Creator BINGO?

Well, it’s a chance to get to know other OC creators and spread some positivity!

You will interact with everyone on your BINGO card! It's a "mini" bingo because the cards are going to be 3x3. This means 8 creators will be chosen for you to interact with and you will get one of your choice!

BINGO Card template

… you know your schedules better than I do. And if you finish your card early, you are allowed to ask for another!

Since everyone is allowed to participate in this event - if there are creators you do NOT want on your card (for reasons you don’t have to explain) please put them on the Google Form. That information stays between me and you.

The following are some ways to fill in a spot for your creators:

Send 5 asks to a creator about their OCs (and reblog the answers)

Start a private conversation with someone new

Create a moodboard / aesthetic for a creator

Leave 3 reviews on a fic of a creator’s OC

Send 5 positivity asks to a creator

Reblog 5 of a creator’s OC posts

Create a manip for a creator’s OC

Create a poster / story cover for a creator’s OC

Create a video for a creator’s OC

Create a drabble for a creator’s OC

Create a gifset for a creator’s OC

Draw an OC for a creator

Do a liveblog for a creator’s OC

Create a SIM of a creator’s OC

Make a playlist for a creator’s OC

Make a blog recommendation post on your tumblr

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO DO ALL OF THEM! You can pick and choose what works best for you. If you wanted to just reblog posts for all the creators on your list (because that’s an option) then go for it. Choose what you are most comfortable doing for each creator.

Those who sign up by August 31st, will have their cards ready by September 1st.

But you will still be able to sign up during most of the month of September!

[shitsndgiggs]

can you do maybe like a fic where kenan is in germany for the euros and reader stayed back in italy and they have phone sex?

A/N: WARNING SMUT!!

OVER THE PHONE - KENAN YILDIZ

What’s a good solution when you miss your boyfriend? Phone sex!

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

I sat on the edge of the bed, my phone clutched in my hand as I waited for his call. The house was too quiet without him, the familiar hum of his presence missing.

It was strange how empty it felt, even though he’d only been gone for a few days. But tonight, I didn’t want to think about that. I just wanted to hear his voice.

When my phone finally rang, I answered it before the second ring, not even bothering to check the caller ID. I knew it was him.

“Hey, superstar,” I teased, unable to keep the smile out of my voice. “Congrats on the win! I watched the whole game from start to finish.”

His laugh was warm, filling the empty space around me. “You did? What did you think?”

“You were amazing, as always,” I said, meaning every word. “But I’ll admit, it’s hard watching from the couch when all I want is to be there with you, cheering you on in person.”

“Trust me, it’s not the same without you,” Kenan’s voice softened, and I could almost see the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he said it. “I kept looking up at the stands, hoping to see you there, even though I knew you were back home.”

“I know. But someone has to take care of the house while you’re off winning championships,” I joked lightly, trying to keep the mood light, even though I felt the same longing he did.

Kenan chuckled, but then there was a shift in his tone, something more serious, more intimate. “I miss you, though. It’s only been a few days, but it feels like forever.”

I sighed, leaning back against the pillows, letting my thoughts drift to him. “Tell me about it. The house feels so empty without you. I miss waking up next to you, having you steal the covers in the middle of the night.”

“You miss that?” Kenan’s voice was teasing, a familiar warmth in it. “I thought you hated it.”

“I do,” I laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet room. “But I miss you more.”

There was a brief silence, the kind that was comfortable and filled with unspoken emotions.

I could hear his breathing on the other end, steady and calming, and for a moment, it felt like he was right there with me.

“So,” his voice dropped lower, a playful edge to it. “What are you wearing right now?”

I couldn’t help but giggle, already knowing where this was going. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would,” he replied, his tone turning husky. “But if you don’t want to tell me, I could just imagine it instead…”

“Oh really? And what exactly are you imagining?” I asked, curiosity and amusement laced in my voice.

“Hmm, let’s see,” Kenan said, drawing out the words as if he were considering them carefully.

“I’m picturing you in one of my shirts, the ones that are a bit too big on you, but you wear them anyway because they remind you of me.”

I smiled, loving how well he knew me. “That’s not far off. But you’re missing one important detail.”

“And what’s that?” Kenan’s voice was filled with interest, and I could almost hear the smirk on his lips.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath.” I teased, my fingers sliding between my pussy lips, feeling how slick I was already. "I'm in bed, thinking about you."

Kenan let out a low growl. "Are you touching yourself, baby? Are you thinking about me making you cum?"

"Mmm, maybe," I teased, my fingers beginning to circle my clit. "I might need some encouragement though. It's been so long since I felt you inside me."

"Fuck, you don't need encouragement, you little minx," he said, his voice getting rougher. "You know what you do to me. How many times I've thought about your tight pussy wrapped around my cock."

My breath quickened as I listened to him, my fingers working faster over my clit. "Oh yeah? What do you think about, Kenan? Do you think about how I taste? How I moan your name when you eat me out?"

"Fuck, all the time," he groaned. "I remember the way your pussy grips my tongue when you're about to cum. The way you taste, so fucking sweet. I want to lick you from your clit to your ass, making you scream."

My fingers dipped lower, my middle finger teasing my tight asshole as my index finger continued to rub my swollen clit. "Oh God, Kenan. That sounds so good. I want you to fuck my mouth, feel your thick cock hitting the back of my throat."

"You like that, don't you, you dirty girl?" he said, his voice full of approval. "You want me to face-fuck you, grab your hair, and guide you onto my cock?"

"Yes," I moaned, my body on fire. "I want to take you deep, feel your cockhead hitting the back of my throat, and then swallow your hot cum."

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. "Keep playing with your pussy. I'm stroking my cock thinking about you. It's so hard, aching for your tight hole."

I let out a whimper as I slid two fingers into my dripping pussy. "I wish you were here, Kenan. I need you inside me. I'm so empty without your cock filling me up."

"Fuck, I wish I could be there to stretch that tight pussy of yours," he grunted, his breath coming in short bursts. "Imagine me there, baby. My cock replacing your fingers, sliding deep into your wet cunt."

I closed my eyes, imagining Kenan there with me. His muscular body glistening with sweat as he positioned himself between my thighs.

My legs instinctively parted wider, inviting him in.

"That's it, baby," he said, as if reading my mind. "Open those gorgeous legs for me. Let me sink my cock into your waiting hole."

"Oh God, Kenan," I moaned, my fingers curling inside me, hitting that sweet spot. "It feels so good. I want to ride you, feel your cock deep inside me as I bounce up and down."

"Fuck yes," he grunted. "Ride that cock, baby. Show me how you like it. Grind your pussy down on me."

In my mind, I was on top of him, my wet pussy engulfing his thick cock. I began to ride my fingers, my body moving slowly at first and then picking up the pace as my desire took over.

"That's it, take what you need," Kenan panted. "Fuck yourself on my cock. I'm gonna hold your hips and guide you, faster and faster, until we both cum."

"Oh, Kenan," I cried out, my body quaking. "I'm close. So close. Don't stop. Oh, God, yes!"

"Cum for me, baby," Kenan groaned. "Let me hear you scream my name. Fuck, I'm close too. I'm gonna paint your pussy with my cum."

And with that, I tumbled over the edge, my body shaking as I cried out his name. I could hear him grunting, the sound of his pleasure, as he came with me, our orgasms syncing across the miles.

For a moment, we were both silent, catching our breath. Finally, I spoke, my voice soft and sated. "That was incredible, Kenan."

"It was," he agreed, his voice full of satisfaction. "I love you, baby. I can't wait to be back in your arms and feel the real thing."

"I love you too," I replied, a lazy smile spreading across my face. "But until then, this will have to do. And honestly, I can't complain. That was the best phone sex I've ever had."

“If you keep talking like that, I might just book the first flight back to Italy,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

“Don’t you dare,” I scolded lightly, though I couldn’t keep the smile from my voice. “Your country needs you right now. But when this tournament is over, you’d better be on that first flight, because I’ll be waiting.”

“Oh, I will be,” Kenan promised, his voice full of intent. “And when I get there, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I whispered, feeling the distance between us shrink with every word.