#Red Wine Soap

[patankar]

We at Patankar Farm Products always believe in keeping the tradition alive and so we bring to you fresh turmeric powder. We try to provide the hand grinded one so that the benefits of turmeric are preserved at a higher level. Include it in your daily routine and feel the difference.

[clnclm]

[namekian-maoh]

[vurlient]

Collapsing on the bed rn...

eepy as fuck

[mushies-stories]

Drinking- how TF141 handles a clingy drunk reader for the first time

PART ONE- Price and Soap

PART TWO- Ghost and Gaz

F!Reader

Warnings: drunk reader, little tiny bit suggestive... think that's it?

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle had gotten off work a bit early, the mission going faster than expected but just as tiring. The only thing on his mind was seeing you, he needed to feel your soft body against his.

He called you from his car, figuring it was early enough and you'd still be awake. He was correct, but when you answered the phone you didn't sound like your usual self. Your words are slow and a little slurred. “Baby, ya okay?” he asks.

You hum a response. “M’okay, just been drinking a little.” you tell him. 

“Sounds like it, you alone at home love?” he asks, a little nervous. It wasn't like you to get drunk by yourself, or really that often at all actually.

“Yeah… but could you come over, please.” your voice was a little shaky and it twisted something in Kyle's gut. 

“Of course lovie. Be there in just a bit, eh?” he tells you. His drive was faster than normal, you sounded off and it worried him. His only thought was to get to you and the elevator ride up to your flat seemed endless. 

When you entered he saw you sitting on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, glass of red wine and an almost empty bottle next to it. 

Your head turned when you heard his steps and the sound of his shoes being kicked off. “Kyle.” you say quietly. Standing you shed the blanket and take a few shaky steps towards him. 

He rushed to meet you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you against himself. Your own arms wrap around his middle, gripping the back of his shirt. “What's wrong love, why ya crying?” he asks, voice tender and soft. His warm eyes looking over your tear stained cheeks before wiping a tear away. 

You give him a small shrug. “I'm just so tired, and work was stressful. I just wanted to relax a little and I knew you are normally at the base late...” you admit. 

Kyle hums softly before kissing the top of your head. “Well, drinking is no way to feel better, right lovie?” he asks, making sure you look at him by guiding your face to look at his. “Next time, just let me know, be over as soon as i can.” he tells you. 

You give him a small smile. “I will, I'm sorry I know I was overreacting.”

“None of that love, let's just get ya to bed.” he says with a sweet smile. You lean into his touch and nod. 

He figured after such a stressful day you should take a hot bath. Topped with some essential oils he found it was ready. You both relax in the warm water. Kyle behind you so you can rest your head on his chest. 

“Thank you kyle.” you mumble. Eyes closed and soldering his arms around you, you sigh constantly. “I love you.” you add, a little slower and sleepier. 

Kyle smiles down at you. Perfectly content in his arms, just as he wanted. Here to keep you safe and happy. “Anything for your lovie, I love ya too.” he says. Just above a whisper, the last coherent words you heard before drifting off. 

When you had dozed off Kyle gathered your body in his arms and brought you to bed then wrapped you in a fluffy towel. The whole time you barely even stirred in your sleep. He crawled in next to you and wrapped you in his arms once again, this time pulling your head to his chest, arm holding you back so your firm against him. 

He kisses your nose. “Goodnight love.” he says. That night you both slept soundly. Kyle happily content with your bare body against his own.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Simon had called after getting back from a long mission, wanting to see you instead of going home alone. All he needed at the moment was your arms wrapped around him. 

To his delight you had picked up, even in the late hour. To his disappointment however, it sounded like you were out with friends.

That didn't seem to mean much to you. Judging by your excited time when you answered. “Si? You home already?” you ask, smile evident in your tone. 

He smiles to himself. “Yeah, sound busy though doll, see ya tomorrow?” he offers. 

You make a sound of displeasure. “But I gotta see you tonight Si, please? I'll get an uber right now!” Simon just chuckles and tells you to stay put, he will come and get you. 

Not even twenty minutes later and you're in his passenger seat with his hand on your bare thigh and a drunkenly sweet smile plastered across your face. You loved admiring Simon, even with most of his face concealed. Everything about him made you drawn to him. 

“See something ya like love?” Simon chuckles and glances over to you. His hand on your thigh squeezes the soft skin.

You nod and giggle. “Always see something I like around you, Si.” 

He snorts before paying attention to the road, eyes focus on getting home. You babbled about your night with your friends and he nodded along, humming in response when he needed to agree with you, all the while his hand rests on your warm plush thigh and a small smile plays at his lips. 

You were adorable. The way you stared at him the whole time like he was the moon, the way your hands laid atop his and gripped it when you talked. 

He loved the attention. From you, and only you that is. Loved that you just wanted to see him, needed too. 

When you got back to his place, he carried you in. insisting that the stairs were too much for you and it would be faster. “S’alright love, just let me bring you up. Be much faster.” he explained.

The whole way you kissed at his neck, making sure to lift his mask enough so you could pepper them to his jawline. “Lovie, none of tha. S’to late and you.” he glanced down at you and your blushing cheeks, warm from the alcohol. “Are much too hammered.” he chuckles, stepping into his flat before closing and locking the door. 

“But Si… I missed you so much, you were gone for a whole week.” you pout softly up at him after he set you down on his bed.

One of his hands comes out to cradle the side of your head, making you look up at him and hold his gaze. “Don't worry lovie, when your pretty little head is pounding tomorrow, I'll make sure to do everything I can to help you forget about it.” he promises. 

I shiver rolls down your back and you smile dumbly up at him, the thought of what to come already turning the little gears in your head. Simon however forces you to push the thoughts aside and get ready for bed instead.

With you in only his shirt, his mask set aside and his protective arm wrapped securely around your middle, you start to drift off. “Love you Simon, can't wait for tomorrow.” 

Simon kisses the side of your head. “Love you too doll, can't wait.”

[heartlilith]

WHAT THE VENUS SIGNS REMIND ME OF

🩷Oddly specific things I think about when I hear ______ venus

Aries Venus: Summer, rubies, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, rollercoasters, fast cars, the color red, vampire fangs, Saturday nights, liquor stores and gas stations, fireworks, sour candy, cool bic lighters, “you’re mine”, Mario Kart, boys who wear nail polish, fuck it energy, oversized sweatshirts, middle finger emoji, cherries

Taurus Venus: Satin pillowcases, white candles, pearls, mirrors, hand holding, walking someone home at night, vinyls, red lipstick, full lips, fancy dinner dates, the wine and dine, old romantic movies, wallets and purses, hotels, French manicures, old money, “I won’t get on my knees for no man”

Gemini Venus: Driving around at night listening to music, reading to someone, comedy shows, mimosas, Samantha from Sex and the City, libraries, nerd kink, hot teachers/student kink, emerald green, laughter, swing sets, looking out of the window and just watching, untied shoelaces, dogs and puppies, dad jokes

Cancer Venus: Soft feather pillows, a bowl of warm soup, a bubble bath, tears and running mascara, babies and how babies laugh, poetry, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be”, hot tubs, hot coffee, teddy bears, heartbeats, soft hands & skin, lotion, bagels and cream cheese, doodling in your journal

Leo Venus: Lip gloss, mojitos, getting drunk at brunch, diamond tennis bracelets, drunk texts you regret sending later, the block button, lonely nights, shooting stars, blowing bubbles, piggy back rides, art museums, glittery eyeshadow, jumparoos, birthday parties

Virgo Venus: Taking a shower, Dove soap, smooth skin, symmetry, butterflies, the smell of books, getting a facial or going to the spa, chicken caesar salads, the good tasting water, chunky headphones, acoustic guitar, running errands, getting your eyebrows done, neat handwriting, neutral colors, sushi

Libra Venus: Blush, dimples, Y2K fashion, Hello Kitty, makeup skills, those little hand mirrors, princes and princesses, cupcakes, pedicures, Margaritas, taking pictures, art, castles, Disney movies, daisies, spin the bottle, cartwheels, soft hair, bubblegum, skincare, watermelon and pineapple

Scorpio Venus: Psychology, neck tattoos, “until death do us part”, Kings & Queens, snakes, sacred sex, chess, secrets, hickeys, the feeling after you stay up all night, the feeling of being at a concert, roses, knives, tequila shots, legs intertwined, dirty martinis, sparklers, Avril Lavigne, fantasy books, true crime and dark history

Sagittarius Venus: Clouds, rock climbing, rappers, Hip Hop and R&B, going on vacation, açaí bowls and fresh fruit, sun kissed/radiant skin, the color yellow, retreats, history, yoga and Pilates, spicy food, “it is what it is”, curly hair, the smell of weed, casinos, the last day of school, Las Vegas

Capricorn Venus: Leather, red wine, the cow pattern, cowgirl boots, the color brown, espresso, dark chocolate, briefcase of money like in the movies, the movie Scarface, whiskey on the rocks, bosses, owls, turtle necks, caramel, wearing suits, lingerie, business, New York City

Aquarius Venus: Lightbulbs, telescopes and microscopes, LED lights, hamsters, college parties, glitter, peace signs, 70s concerts, food trucks, skipping school, “fuck it”, diving in the pool, the beach at night, disco balls, getting detentions in school

Pisces Venus: Mermaids, kittens, cartoons and Disney princesses, champagne, Webkinz, little kid stories like Goldilocks, 3 Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel, clear glittery lip gloss, holographic, snowmen and icicles, swimming in the pool, flower gardens, glow sticks , picnics, bumblebees, sand castles, elementary art class, 3D movies

Book a Reading 🩷

Masterlist 🩷

[charliemwrites]

Mafia au with Price perspective

Content: Implied Violence

John, for the life of him, can’t believe he ever ran SpecGru without you.

It’s a hit to his pride to admit it, certainly. That an outsider has discovered a small conspiracy within his own organization less than three months into employment. That, apart from even that, he’s never been less scattered, having someone right by his side remembering details, appointments, bits of information.

Morning smells like Earl Grey and your perfume now. Steam mixing with whatever you’ve spritzed for the day, his own little aroma therapy. Revitalizing after however late the previous night dragged him out.

In general, you’re like a breath of fresh air. A smiley little charm of color and delicacy in his world of saturated shadows, blood and brutality.

Clean-cut dresses with patterned tights, soft-knit scarves. Lace accents and modest stilettos. Thin, sparkly jewelry and smart makeup. The scent of you drowns out the lingering burn of gunpowder; or maybe just transforms it into something heady.

John lingers on your hair. Smooth ponytails, tight coifs, intricate braids. Likes when it’s loose enough to brush you shoulders and neck, a little bounce to it as you toddle in and out of his office.

You’re gorgeous, he knows it like a gun in his hand or the stench of fear in the air. Has encountered (and indulged) in more than his share of stunning women. Women with beautiful smiles, and bright laughter, and sweet voices. Cunning women, too. Women who could outfox all but his best on any given day.

You have all of that in spades, though you’re not the first.

The difference, he thinks, is your sincerity. You’re never anything but honest with him. Even when you maybe shouldn’t be. Not that you share your opinion every time you have one, but if he asks for it, you’ll answer without pulling punches.

Respectful, always. Polite. But scalpels are elegant tools as dangerous as any dagger. You’re not cold by any means, but you’re made of steel. Precise and implacable in some ways. Have never hesitated too look him in the eye and cheerfully explain why he’s wrong.

That, he knows, is a rare commodity.

“I understand this is time sensitive Mister Graves, but raising your voice is not going to open Mister Price’s schedule.”

Your voice goes silky when you get like this. A finely draped, overly pleasant “no” in each word. A wall is still a wall no matter how finely it’s painted.

You’ve just gotten your nails done again, glossy wine red tap-tap-tapping over your customized keyboard. Whatever Philip is saying on the other end does not seem to be impressing you. Soap and Gaz are trying not to snicker. You shoot them an amused look.

“Well, he’s booked every morning for the next two weeks,” you continue.

John is not, in fact, booked every morning for the next two weeks. There are two mornings with two hours open and you’re serenely looking at them on your computer screen. He doesn’t correct you, interested to see how this plays out. You know he hates Philip and are gleefully taking advantage of that fact.

“Well, Mister Graves, a lot of people have time sensitive issues to bring to Mister Price,” you explain, a touch condescending now. “I’m afraid I can’t reschedule them just because you have… a trip to Glasgow, is it?”

You don’t sound impressed. Neither is John. You clear your throat, arch your eyebrows at him. Put up three fingers. He nods.

“I can schedule you in on the 3rd in the evening. Your assistant said you’ll be back by then.”

You blink, an almost smug curve to your lips at whatever is said. A pleasant shiver runs down John’s spine. Philip will just have gotten in then - a full day of travel after whatever business he’s been up to will put him at a disadvantage.

“Well, I’m afraid Mister Price’s next availability won’t be until the… 8th. So shall we schedule something for the 3rd? I can always call if he has a cancellation.”

A pause. Your eyes narrow into a mean little smile at nothing in particular. Practically glowing with satisfaction. Without your attention on him, he shifts a bit.

“Of course, Mister Graves,” you hum. “I can forward your people the details. Have a lovely day now.”

Soap and Gaz start laughing the moment you hand up. You huff at them in amusement, shaking your head, then turn to John.

“Was there anything you needed, sir?” You ask, syrupy sweet.

John snorts and finally approaches your desk, leaning his hip against the edge as he crosses his arms. You tilt your head to give him your full attention, a stray curl falling against your jaw.

“Since you seem to be on rampage,” he says, “I need you to get a reservation for Friday at Muse.”

You blink at him. “Muse? Sir, that’s… don’t they book that place out months in advance?”

He smirks. “Just use my name, luv. I’m sure you’ll have the rest under control.”

You don’t look convinced, but you slide your sticky pad over - light purple clouds, now. With a pink glitter pen.

“How many and what time, sir?”

“Six for eight o’clock.”

You hum as you scrawl it down, pretty round letters that shimmer under the office lights.

“Before you go,” you say as you set the sticky pad aside. “I have those inventory logs from the docks - as well as the incident report from security that evening.”

You pluck up a neat stack of papers, held together by a star-shaped paperclip. Already he can see pink highlighter on the first page, a little memo-note summarizing information for quick review at the top. Somewhere within, you’ve attached a pink tab to something.

“I’ve highlighted anything in the original shipment that wasn’t found in the inventory log,” you explain, tapping at one of them.

He hums, skims the summary, then starts rifling through the papers. Will never admit how much he appreciates the thoroughness, even if he’s comb through every detail himself just to be sure nothing has been missed.

“Oh, also,” you add, spinning the glitter pen between clever fingers, “I think we should maybe set up a camera near that back entrance to the warehouse.”

He pauses. The back entrance where they do the more gruesome aspects of “business.” Odd that you would suggest that.

“Why’s that?”

You hum. “Well, I’m no narc, but I heard from someone who works over there that one of the shipping guys smokes weed with his cousin in that area. Maybe someone saw them and realized that’s a good way in.”

You shrug, leaning back in your seat again. The computer dings, calling your attention. John shoots Soap a glance, who nods and quietly steps out. You don’t seem to notice, clicking your tongue at whatever you see.

“Nicely done, luv,” he says, voice warm in his chest. You beam at him, pleased as always when he recognizes your hard work. “I’ll call if I need anything else.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply.

Twenty minutes later, you tap lightly at the open door to his office.

“Got the reservation!” You announce, a funny little smile on your face. “They were so nice about it too. What are you, some kind of mafia boss?”

He chuckles at your joke, shaking his head.

How did he ever manage all this without you?

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[ooffmlsorry]

OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

[mistydeyes]

This is my first time doing this!!!!! can you please do 141 with a rich reader! Like she buys them cars,supplies,homes,etc but not in a sugar momma way like “ I’m make money……..and my love language is gift giving” like imagine them walking into her house mansion and is like “this is 10 times bigger than my flat building” and she’s like “oh shush….besides this is your home now” or when she picks them up to go to the pub she pulls up in their dream car and their like “love your car” she like “it’s yours” and throws the key. And when they give her gifts she ADORES them (it’s some purfum she likes) she’s just loves spoiling her baby and they don’t know how handle Being so special! CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE A REACT ON THIS ITS BEEN ROTTING MY MIND

hehe thank you so much for requesting! we love expensive taste and a woman who's love language is gift gifting!!

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: When the 141 met you, they had no idea what kind of life you came from. However from extravagant vacations to luxury vehicles, you make sure to treat your man right.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price

Looking at John, you can tell he enjoys the more expensive taste in things. Holidays are always a joy for you both as you spend your hard-earned salary on practical yet extravagant gifts. For your anniversary, you wanted to impress. Earlier in the year for your birthday, he had gotten you a bottle of Baccarat Rouge 540 and you were over the moon. It had it's own shelf in your home and he always made sure to compliment the rich, sultry scent when you wore it. This inspired you as you dragged John to the bright red building in Grasse. You had spent the last week in the south of France, seeing the sights and enjoying the extravagance of wine and pastries. He had been wondering where you were going as you maneuvered through the streets and eventually walked up the path. "This is the final part of a French tour," you smiled as you entered, "a perfume-making class!" As he chuckled at the idea, you checked yourselves in with the minimal amount of French you knew. "What made you pick this?" he asked as you waited for your perfume instructor. You looked around at the various creations and bottles that glistened in the afternoon sun. "You always talk about wanting to find the perfect scent," you commented, "especially when you have one of your fancy military balls or ceremonies." He nodded as he cozied himself onto the leather couch. "Well looks like this is the perfect place to do so," he smiled, kissing you on the forehead. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to pick an expensive-smelling one for my luxurious husband."

soap

"This can't be right," Johnny mumbled as he arrived at your address. You told him you lived in the English countryside and he expected a cottage fit for a granny. He was not expecting a castle that looked like it stretched various football fields. The exterior was extravagant and he was calculating the price of your marbled columns before you opened the door. "Johnny, a pleasure to have you," you smiled as you let him into the foyer. He took a minute to look at the not one but two staircases you had leading to the upper floor. Furthermore, the interior looked like a smaller version of Versailles. He thought he knew luxury when he saw Price's flat but that was a shoe closet compared to this. "Are you alright?" you questioned, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You live here?" he asked and gasped at the way his voice echoed amongst the mansion. You laughed for a moment before looking back up at him. "Yes, I do," you replied as if it was a silly question, "it's quite nice." He turned back to you with a shocked face. "This is more than nice," he said, gesturing to your extravagant home, "I was not picturing this during the drive." You blushed a little at the realization that this wasn't the typical home he had been accustomed to. "Well do you want a house tour?" you offered and he immediately took the offer, "let's start with the first library." "There's multiple?"

gaz

Kyle looked at his watch as he wondered where you were. "The missus running late?" Price asked as he searched for his car keys. "Probably had a meeting or something," Kyle said, looking back down at his phone, "perks of dating a CEO I guess." Just as Price offered him a ride, a silver Rolls-Royce Spectre came revving in front of the two awe-struck men. "Sorry I'm late boys," you said as you got out, "hope Kyle stayed out of trouble long enough, John." "He's a good one, Y/N," Price replied as he gave you a quick hug. He smiled back at you before waving off and walking over to his own vehicle. "This a new company car?" Kyle asked as he examined the pristine exterior and the practically silent hum of the EV engine. You had a small smile on your face as he tapped the front of the car and looked into the windows. "It's new but definitely not company-issued," you smiled, wrapping your arms around his torso. "Didn't think you needed a new car," he continued and the suspense was killing you. As you opened the car door and sat in the red leather passenger seat, Kyle looked at you dumbfounded. "You want me to drive?" he questioned as he moved the seat back into a comfortable position. "Of course, babes," you said, practically bursting with happiness, "you should drive your own car home." There was a brief moment of mixed screaming and excitement as he realized this was his. Once he was finished (and you stopped laughing), you turned on the seat warmers. "Go ahead," you smiled, "take us home in your new toy."

ghost

Simon was never one to gorge himself on the finer things in life. He would save 80% of his paycheck and spend the rest at the grocer's or off-license. He often would have to hold you back from ordering items for him or buying something at Armani on a whim. "Return it." you could hear Simon say behind you and you sheepishly closed your laptop as you knew you had been caught. "You need new jeans though," you tried to convince him but he shook his head. "I could get a pair of Wranglers for less than £47.50 on sale," he responded and that's how most conversations ended. However, you had spent your time finding him an expensive gift that you knew he would value. "What's this?" Simon asked as you pushed over a small parcel. "I know you don't celebrate your birthday but I got you something," you smiled before sitting down with him on the couch. He shook his head as he ripped open the packaging. Inside was a small box that depicted a pair of sturdy-looking earplugs. "For when you exercise or go on runs," you commented, "they're Beats Fit Pro." He opened up the box and you watched as he adjusted them into his ear. "You know I can just use those wired ones," he said before trying them out. You shook his head as he admired the noise-canceling quality. He was enjoying the gift no matter how much he said it was unnecessary. "Well if you don't like them I can always return them," you joked, reaching your hand across the couch to get them before he pulled it away, "yeah, that's what I thought."

[patankar]

We at Patankar Farm Products always believe in keeping the tradition alive and so we bring to you fresh turmeric powder. We try to provide the hand grinded one so that the benefits of turmeric are preserved at a higher level. Include it in your daily routine and feel the difference.

[moondirti]

pregnant diner waitress reader just has a dirtbag babydaddy, calling her and screaming the whole over the car and her being late.

honestly i hadn’t planned to have her baby daddy in the picture at all but the angst potential here… too tempting to pass up

PART 1 • PART 2

tags: simon x reader x johnny. darkfic. dirtbags. verbal abuse (not by ghost or soap). pregnant fem!reader who still hasn’t realised she’s being actively abducted.

It takes a bit to convince you to let them drive you home.

Your resistance is met with a paradoxical reaction by both men. On the one hand, there’s a warm comfort at the knowledge that you aren’t so easy to take advantage of. Even in your distraught state, you push back against every solution they propose. It is quite a detour, I’d hate to inconvenience you or I’m sure I can get a friend to come out instead. You’re wary, though your exhaustion sways you to assume the best of them, which means that you aren’t quite at the point of flat out refusal.

Otherwise, they – Simon, in particular – simmer in frustration. Red wine in a saucepan, reduced to a stronger version of itself over flame. Bitter. Strong. More insistent: cannae rest easy tonicht knowing we left an expecting hen tae fend fur herself. They poke at the knot until they find a loosening, tugging, tugging, then abandoning it once a more promising end appears.

Eventually, their combined efforts (though most of the credit can be attributed to the sincere, puppy dog look Johnny sports at all times. Hard to resist, even for Simon) dismantle your willpower. You duck your head in a modest thank you and shuffle behind them, seating yourself firmly behind the drivers seat even though you’re offered shotgun, hugging your bag over your belly.

“Do you need me to type in the address on google maps or something?” You say after they pull out of the parking lot.

“Y’were on about Adderford.” Simon meets your wide eyes in the rearview.

“Yeah.”

“Reckon I know the road.”

Simon does know the way, and so does Johnny. Adderford, off of exit A36. Near a polluted lake that was the victim of an attempt to turn the town into an industrial hub. Nothing to show for that, of course – all it has to offer now is a poor quality of life for all those who weren’t fortunate enough to get out.

Yeah. They know the way, and their confidence must set a precedent for the trip. Your anxious fidgeting stops after 10 minutes of driving, and you’re smiling at the nonsensical story coming from the passengers seat a mere 5 minutes later. In the meanwhile, your rationalisation is visible. Simon watches your gaze flicker back and forth between them, then around the car that must feel luxurious next to yours. If they wanted to do something bad to you, then they would’ve already done so. Besides, what kind of delinquents drive a wrangler?

30 minutes in, you’re fast asleep.

They really couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events.

They come up on exit A36 and stick to the middle lane, passing the little sign that points to Adderford being a couple miles out. Past the point of no return, beelining towards the secluded house they’ve made your new home, and you can be none the wiser. Johnny can’t believe their luck, babbling in a hushed voice about how nice it’ll when you to wake up in their bed.

The fantasy loses its grip when your phone rings, blaring from deep within your bag. Panic ripples across your face, jolting you from your sleep as you scramble for the device. The series of events unfolds in far too familiar a way for one of them. Simon – a buried torment wringing around his guts as he listens in.

“H-Hello? Shit. What–” You’re breathless, stuttering. Back to that scared little thing they found by her car, crying. “Please- please calm down.”

And though you try to keep your voice low, they leech on to every word you say. Someone on the other line yells, indistinct insults punching through the mic and landing. You wilt, tucking your lip underneath two teeth, waiting the anger out.

(Tommy donned the same expression those nights when things got bad. Simon remembers hugging him against his chest so he wouldn’t have to face the misery his brother’s countenance wrought.)

“You shouldn’t- I’m sorry, but I thought I c-changed the locks. You’re not allowed to be in… not in my apartment.” More yelling. Soap twists a fist, concoting a hundred different ways he can track whoever it is down. Make them pay for their abuse with their own tongue down their throat. “It’s none of your business- you left…”

“Easy.” Simon whispers to his partner.

“Si.”

“I know, boy.” Perhaps all too well. It gets harder to keep a firm steer over the wheel.

“Don’t accuse me of– my fucking car broke down! You shouldn’t even– fuck! Hello? Hello?” A low scream tears from your throat, prelude to the aggressive shoving of your phone down into back your bag. Trembling fingers press down over your eyes, rubbing until your tears soak into your skin. Ridding of the evidence to your dismay. You suck in large gulps of air, holding them in your chest until it aches, then gasp out equally hefty exhales.

No one speaks for a while. Then–

“I don’t think I should go home right now.”

Too broken for them to feel anything but overwhelming pity. Johnny clicks his tongue, looking over his shoulder so you can latch on to the sincerity that seems to calms you so.

“O’course. Whatever ye need, lass.”

Your frown softens “There’s a motel–”

“Next one’s farther ou’ than our place is. Can’t take you there and back m’fraid.” Simon interjects. Like a record scratch, or sandpaper on an already raw moment. It must make him an awful man to use your earlier propriety against you, but conviction has superseded his desire to act decently.

Sure enough, you visibly blanch, shaking your head and stumbling over your words.

“No! No, of course not. Of course- that was so silly of me to ask. You can, I mean… you can drop me off anywhere, really. I’ll sort t-things out for myself.”

“Not what I meant, pet.”

You don’t catch on. He doesn’t repeat.

Johnny bridges the gap.

“We’ve got a spare bedroom.”

next part

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ BUT YOU BELONG TO ME — you, your boyfriend johnny, and his friend simon

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, polyamory, threesome, enemies to lovers, bi ghoap, angry sex, hate sex (kinda), dom/sub undertones, bickering, friends to lovers (for ghoap), love confessions

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

You love Johnny's friends.

Really, you do. They're a rowdy bunch, all in-your-face with their larger than life personalities and even larger frames. However, overall, they're people you don't mind hanging out with, as long as your lover is by your side.

But that's all... general.

It's an entirely different story when discussing Johnny's closest friend. The only other person to hold their own acre of property in his gentle heart. A man who the Scot admires almost as much, if not the same amount, as he does you.

Simon Riley.

Since the day you met the lieutenant, you knew that your relationship was going to be a rough one.

He's quiet. Annoyingly so. Somehow, he manages to deliver the nastiest of words without opening his mouth, or taking off that damn balaclava of his.

No. He says it all with deep brown eyes, and overall presence. Who the fuck does that? Can manage to do that?

The feel is mutual, you discovered within two seconds of meeting him for the first time, all those months ago. All it took was a firm, almost warning, shake of your hand to cement that fact, and a hardening glare of his from behind the mask.

Since that very first interaction, the animosity between you both has been nothing if not apparent.

And, look, you try. Really, you do. This is your soulmate's best friend, the one who he spends an equal amount of free time with as you. That's all fine. You're happy for Johnny.

It only becomes a problem when his love for the two of you overlap. When he invites you both over at the same time, or you plan to go on a date and Simon just 'happens to be there'.

It's weird. Alarm bells siren in your ears, red flags are waved in your head, and you have an inner monologue yelling at a mile per minute.

At the end of the day, if you ever truly suspected Johnny of being unfaithful, you would end things.

You knew your worth, even if the pain would be near unbearable.

But this is different. Hell, you know that this is different. And not because it's a man -- your boyfriend had always been open with his inclinations for just about any gender -- but because it's Simon, and because it's you.

So.

When you and Simon are in the same room together, it encompasses a hell of a lot of insults and pettiness from your end, with Simon's cold glares and huffs of indignation on his.

It's a never-ending cycle.

Johnny, for his part, puts up with it. He laughs it off, cooling the mood, because that's who he is. It's part of the reason that you love the man, his ability to work with people and deal with confrontation outside of missions.

Neither you or Simon could've properly prepared for his patience to end, however.

Or the realisation he came to.

You're spending the night at Johnny's, which, at this point, is an event occurring more often than not, when Simon knocks on the door.

And, look. Usually you'd pull up your big girl pants and deal with it.

But you'd been waiting for weeks to try something out with Johnny. You'd both done all the research, ordered the rope, and bought the blindfold and cuffs. The wine in your hands and makeup you'd done with the specific intention to cry it off later said just as much.

It all collapses onto itself when Simon fucking Riley knocks on the door.

Johnny gives you an apologetic rinse, before hopping off of the ouch and lightly jogging to the front door, unlocking it and cracking it open. You mourn the lack of his body heat, his warm body against your own.

The dim lights from the warm yellow lights sat at the back wall cast heavy shadows over Simon's face -- his maskless one. It's rare that he shows up without it. In fact, that's only happened once in the year and a half you've known the guy.

"What's up, mate?" Johnny asks with a tilt of his head, leaning against the door frame and folding his muscled arms over his bulky chest.

Lord, if you didn't already have him, you'd be praying to every God to get your hands on that frame of his.

Simon replies quiet enough that you can't hear, and you know it's an intentional act. It shouldn't piss you off as much as it does, but you can't help the feeling of annoyance and distaste creep into your mouth like a poisonous acid, lacing your tongue with the bitterness.

Johnny murmurs back his reply, before Simon steps in, and your boyfriend shuts the door closed behind him.

"Are you serious?" The words slip out on your own accord, before you can stop them. They're accusatory, angry, and... reflective of your current mood.

If Simon's responding glare could kill, you'd be six feet under. "Date night?" Is his dry, curt reply, and fury boils in your blood.

"He had no where else to go, lass," Is Johnny's input, but you don't even spare him a glance. No. Your ire is all directed at his best friend, and he deserves every last drop of it.

"Actually, yes, it is date night," You quip back, ripping the blanket off of yourself and standing up, moving towards the two men where they stand in the doorway. The light creeps onto the floorboards, the darkened corner of the room shrouding yourselves in shadows. "You know. One without your ass for once."

Johnny rubs his roughened hand over his face, looking up to the roof as if asking it to spare him.

With a roll of his eyes, Simon spares you a flitting, dismissive glance, before turning back to his best friend. "Needta' keep her on a tighter leash."

There's a moment, then. One where you're stuck on a forked path, where each option seem as unimportant as gum on a city sidewalk.

They'll both change the course of your life forever -- but it certainly doesn't feel like it, and it certainly isn't about to affect your decision-making in the slightest.

"Is that why you can't get laid, huh, Simon? Want a submissive little wife you can walk all over? Didn't know you were compensating that fucking much. Hell, if you're that fucking desperate, we can lend you a few bucks and you can go get lucky at the fucking strip club!"

There's a tense silence, that passes for a few beats.

One.

Two.

And then Simon scoffs a nasty, incredulous sound, his attention now fully on you. "Didn't realise ya were so passionate about where I stick my dick, Princess."

It's a lot of words from the usually quiet man, and -- and they're hostile, with anger lacing every syllable that escapes his scarred mouth.

You take a step closer, unknowingly, jabbing a finger into his -- admittedly built -- chest.

"Wasn't until it started to affect me and Johnny! You're always hovering, always fucking there -- hell, if it weren't for social decorum, you'd be pulled up beside the bed while he fucks me! Maybe you could take notes, hey? You know, so you could actually find a chick that could fuck this -- this clinginess out of you!"

It's a low blow, you know it all too well, but he reacts like a dog with a bone, and it's somehow satisfying, rewarding in a way it shouldn't be. Not at all.

"You're actin' like a spoiled fuckin' brat, Princess. What, Johnny's gotten' bored of your ass? Gotta beg him to fuck ya?"

You aren't entirely sure when the two of you had gotten just a breath's distance apart, when you'd had to start tilting your head back to keep eye contact, when the tips of your bare feet started pressing against his black shoes.

Both of your breaths come out ragged, and you're entirely in your own world, forgetting all about the man holding both of your affections, the man that started this vitriol-filled relationship in the first place.

"What? Wish it was you he was fuckin' instead?" You hiss, lowly, calculated, and Simon rears back as if you've slapped him.

In a way, you might just have.

"You need to get put in your fuckin' place," is his slow, scarily calm quip in return. Your spine is ramrod straight, eyes filled with a fire in the barely-there light.

"You need to get laid," you seethe, hands balling into fists at your sides.

"Ye both needta' fuck a'd get it over with."

Silence, once more, fills the room, infinitely more cataclysmic than what any of you had planned for.

But that's just it.

There's no planning a calamity.

"What?" Johnny shrugs, as if he hasn't set a bomb between you all, as if he hadn't planned for you all to fear shrapnel scraping your skin. "Dinnae realise it was a fuckin' revelation."

"Johnny --" you begin, or, well, you try to, but your brain isn't exactly cooperating with your mouth, and vice versa.

"No, love, I'm serious," he raises his hands, palms facing both you and Simon in a placating gesture. "Hell, yer both givin' me a boner jus' from watchin' ya both go at it."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, he's right. He's so fucking right. The tension, the thinly veiled animostiy between you both -- it's never been one of pure hatred. Never been one of pure, mutual dislike.

It's been one dripping of sex, of desire. One consisting of lashing words and biting tones because you couldn't unleash them on each other in the one way you wanted to.

And maybe something else. Something you're not quite ready to face, not yet, not now.

But you will. Someday.

"Johnny..." Simon's brows are pulled together, and god, now that your lover has made you confront the feelings so heavily pushed down inside of you, you realise how beautiful the man is. Short, almost messy blonde hair, scarred face consisting of sharp features and defined cheekbones.

He's disarming in how attractive he is.

And when paired with Johnny? It's as destructive as the very bomb resting between all three of you, the one that your partner had constructed with bare hands and an ever barer heart.

"Yer tellin' me ya don't wanna bend 'er over the couch?" Johnny asks, flippantly, a genuine question.

The silence is as good of a reply as any words, and the man figures as much.

It's Simon's next words that change everything.

"Not just 'er," he says.

Not just her.

...He says.

Not. Just. Her.

The warmth of the living room reflects in Simon's velvet brown eyes, in the vulnerable glint in them. With those three words, he's put everything on the line, prepared himself for the guillotine that's in Johnny's hands to erect.

You see your lover work his jaw, work around the words about to leave his mouth, and your stomach hollows out.

If it had, oddly enough, been anyone else. Anyone else, you'd have already asked them to leave, let alone after that remark. But it's Simon. The man you know Johnny loves just as much as he does you, and the man you've forced yourself to hate, if only to repress the emotions you wouldn't allow yourself to feel.

"You," Johnny says, properly rolling his tongue over the full word, letting its weight sink in to the quiet of the apartment. "Want us. Both."

A moment passes.

Then, Simon nods, albeit stilted and, dare you say it -- nervous.

They both look at you, then, and you realise that what happens next is entirely in your hands, that all of your lives are effectively at your mercy.

So, with a deep breath, you nod.

a/n. just a teaser for this oneshot. ghoap x reader agenda 4ever!! just something about them is so flavourful and then adding a reader-insert?? boom there u go that's the good shit

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Warnings: MDNI, mild smut (at the end), threesome 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.9K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

AKA: You fall through worlds and wake up in our favorite blondes’ bed. SHAMELESS “reader falls into HOTD world from our world” trope (I’m sorry, I CANNOT help myself, I’m a sucker for them). There’s not really a plot plot, but if you stay long enough we might run into one.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“God my head fucking hurts,” you whine, sitting up to rub your eyes. “That wine really hit out of nowhere.” Your head pounds, it has to be part of a hangover. The last thing you remember before drinking yourself to sleep was getting fired. Your boss hadn’t even had the decency to let you know face to face. An HR representative and your manager requested a zoom call at the end of the day and politely told you to ‘clean your desk.’

After nearly three years of work with the same accounting firm, it was weird to not wake up early and head into the office. The worst part really was that your performance was still stellar, the firm was just hemorrhaging money after several questionable expansions. 

Despite the pounding headache and sensitivity to light, you force yourself to open your eyes. “What the fuck?!” Glancing around the room frantically, you panic as you realize you weren’t waking up in the comfort of your room. You had to be the subject of some prank reality tv show because the decor was undoubtedly some renaissance festival shit. The walls were brick with large tapestries decorating the stone. You were laid in the center of a giant four poster bed, black and red canopies flowing.

Slipping from the tangle of sheets and blankets, you pad towards the door. “Okay,” you call out, “you got me. Very funny.” 

Silence. 

“This is so weird” you murmur, pushing the door open as gently as possible to peak out. A woman rushes by you, dressed in some kind of drab linen and an apron. “Excuse me!” you shout, attempting to get her attention. 

The short woman slowed down, stopping to curtsy quickly at the sight of you. “My lady, forgive me. I didn’t you see you there!”

“My lady?” You asked. “What are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, my lady,” she replied quietly. “Please don’t tell your wife I was making jokes! I swear I meant no harm-”

“My wife?!” Everyone has officially gone off the deep end. First this medieval times shit, now apparently you have a wife.

The woman’s eyes go wide, “Your wife, Queen Rhaenyra. My lady, are you unwell?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I have no idea what’s going on. I lost my job. I don’t know where I am or apparently who I am. I just want-” You choke off into sobs.

“Let me help you back to your room,” she offered, taking your elbow. “I’ll let the Queen know you’re unwell.”

You nodded, letting her lead you back into the room. The woman helped you into a steaming bath and left you to soak while she fetched your wife. “Can’t believe someone made an honest woman of me,” you laugh.

At some point, the entire situation stopped feeling like a prank. Maybe it was watching the maid fill the tub painstakingly bucket by bucket, or the significant lack of electricity. Either way, your situation was beginning to feel more and more real. You grab the bar of soap and lather up a cloth, scrubbing furiously at your skin. 

“That’s weird,” you murmur as you notice that your skin seems far too perfect. You usually had a couple scars littering your arms and legs, leftovers from frequently crashing your bike as a kid and general clumsiness. They all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but perfectly smooth, supple skin behind. “Okay, I’m officially going crazy.”

You see a small mirror on the ledge next to the tub, and reach out with shaky hands. You sigh in relief as you glance into the mirror and see that you look the same. At least you have something familiar here.

“Admiring the view? I know I am.” A deep voice purred from behind you.

Tossing the mirror back, you swiftly cover your chest and pray that the water obscurs the rest of you. “What the fuck?!” You yell, turning to confront whatever pervert decided to interrupt your bath. A tall man towered over the tub, his white hair practically glowing as the candlelight reflected off of it.

“I’m trying to have an existential crisis in here,” you hiss. “Can you come back later or something?”

He snorted a laugh, stalking forward to grab a brush from the side table and sit behind you. “And miss this opportunity? I should think not, my love.” He gently began detangling your hair and brushing it out. 

“My love? You do know I’m a married woman?” You retort.

“You never let me forget,” he replied, kissing the top of your hair. 

“I mean I have a wife, asshole!” You twist around to snatch the brush from his hands, but he lifts it out of your reach.

“What a coincidence,” he purrs, blatantly staring at your breasts. “I do too. Two, if I’m not mistaken.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, as if he knows something you don’t.

You glance at the ring that’s been there since you woke up. The black metal has a dragon insignia that looks awfully similar to the embroidery on this man’s shirt. “Fuck.” 

The man’s brows furrow, “what’s wrong?” He sets the brush down, grabbing a sheet and pulling you from the bath. He wraps you up and sits you in his lap. The warmth seeping into your skin feels so familiar and you feel yourself begin to break. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you burrow your face into his neck to hide them. 

Warm hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “My love, I cannot fix whatever is wrong if you don’t tell me.” He hums. “You don’t even have to tell me. Just give Rhaenyra a name and I will ensure whoever made you cry will never breathe again.”

You laugh at the irony. “I don’t know who Rhaenyra is. I’m not sure I even know who I am.” 

Before he can respond, a door slams. “Daemon, thank Gods you’re here. The maid said y/n was acting ill and didn’t rememb-” 

Your head peaks up over the man–Daemon’s shoulder to see the woman who ran in. Her hair is just as white as Daemon’s and her clothing adorned with the same dragon insignia. This must be Queen Rhaenyra.

“Y/n?!” Rhaenyra rushes over, kissing your cheek before she hugs you tightly. 

“My queen,” Daemon greets, leaning in for a kiss. You find yourself pressed between the two, and as much as you don’t want to admit it….the warmth and pressure feels comforting…like home. 

“I hate to break this up,” you say, wiping the last of your tears away. “But can someone tell me what is going on. The last thing I remember was being fired, getting wine drunk, and going to bed early.”

“Fired?” Rhaenyra looked confused and immediately started inspecting every exposed inch of your skin. “Did you try to feed Caraxes again? He’s a temperamental old man, just like his rider.”

“Who is Caraxes? Do ya’ll have a dog or something?”

“Dog?!” Daemon sounded almost offended. “A dog?! Rhaenyra we should fetch a maester. Our little dragon is either begging for a punishment or in need of a healer.”

Rhaenyra attempts to cover her laugh. “Caraxes, Daemon’s dragon? You insist on telling him a goodnight story at least once a week.”

“He’s a dragon of war for fucks sake,” Daemon mutters. “You’ve been making him soft.”

“Dragon?!” Your eyes go wide. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be fucking me right now.”

“We are most definitely no-”

“We certainly could be-”

Daemon and Rhaenyra spoke at the same time. You would have laughed, but the implications of Daemon’s words were starting to settle in.

“Wait,” you being. “So if Queen Rhaenyra is my wife….and Daemon has two wives…and you two seem to be close…that means-”

“That you both are all mine,” Daemon purrs.

“Daemon, we must call for the maester. This seems serious, she doesn’t even remember us.”

“What year is this?” You ask, not sure if you want the answer.

“125 AC.” Rhaenyra responds.

“And where are we?”

“The red keep.”

“What, is that like England or something?”

“We are in Westeros.” Rhaenyra feels your forehead. “Daemon, put y/n to bed while I have the maids summon the maester.”

You yelp in surprise and Daemon stands up, holding you close to his chest. He carries you to a vanity, setting you gently on the bench before rummaging through some drawers. “Arms up, love.” He says, pulling a white shift over your head. You stare of into space as Daemon gently braids your hair. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask as he ties a ribbon at the ends of the braid.

“You and Rhaenyra are quite the demanding duo when you want to be,” he snorts. “The staff might revolt and establish Rhaenyra’s cunt of a half-brother as king if I bothered them everytime you both needed your hair done.”

“Language,” you chide. Daemon rolls his eyes before he sweeps you back up into his arms. He carries you to the bed, depositing you in the center before he climbs in. Daemon sits up, back against the headboard as he pulls you in to lean against his chest. 

“Do you really not remember us?” He asks. 

“How long have we been married?” 

“Five years. We were married in the old ways. Your High Valyrian wasn’t as good back then though.” Daemon laughs. “But it was perfect, and I wouldn’t trade you both for anything.”

“So if Rhaenyra is queen, what does that make you?” You ask. He had to be King, right?

“A lucky man.”

You laugh, and lightly hit his chest. “No, really. I don’t remember anything. Help a girl out here.”

“Prince consort.” Daemon answers. You nod, so Rhaenyra must be in charge around here.

“So how’d I end up married to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon?” You ask in the poshest British accent you can muster.

“You threw yourself at my feet saying ‘Please Rhaenyra, I cannot live without you! You are the sun that brightens the sky and the stars that guide ships home!’” Rhaenyra teased. You sit up to see that Rhaenyra isn’t alone, she brought back some balding man with her. 

“I didn’t say that-” You protest.

“Really?” Daemon laughs. “My queen, it’s not proper to toy with someone who is ill.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rhaenyra says, raising a brow. “You seemed rather close when I came in earlier.”

You groan. How did you manage to survive these two for five years. 

!!SMUT BELOW!!

PREVIEW FOR PART TWO

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his. 

NOTE: Hey all! I'm not dead, sorry for disappearing! Life happened (new job, had to travel home for a funeral). But, I got my shit back together after taking some time for myself and I'm ready to give y'all the stories I've been cooking up. I have some steamy and inspiring requests I'm working on for Feyd Rautha (so if you requested...they're coming). Glad to be back and BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PART 2!!!! - Lacie <3

Want to be added to a taglist? Click HERE!

[shotmrmiller]

You don't need anyone else but us.

TW: implied dub-con, drug usage.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

WC: 1.1K

A/N: Im biting my knuckles at the idea of you going on a date with this guy at some restaurant, and the bum slips some aphrodisiac into your drink :)

It started small, with symptoms so faint they were barely discernible. Fanning yourself with your hand, you hoped to keep the beads of sweat forming at the nape of your neck from ruining your perfectly coiffed hair. 

“Is it just me or is it hot in here?” you asked your date with a flustered, timid smile. 

“No, I feel fine, but you do look a bit rosy. You alright?” As you give him a reassuring nod, a striking hum passes through your body, like a raindrop rippling still water, and every wave shoots arousal straight to your core. 

He reached across the table to grasp at your wrist, bringing you closer to him so he could press a cool hand to your burning forehead. “You’re burning up, sweets. Maybe it’s time we take you home, hm?” You try to stammer out a response, but fire is pooling in your belly, making it hard to think. He quickly raises his hand, and gestures for the tab, then changes seats to be right next to you. “I’ve got you.” The fabric of his long sleeve grazes your uncovered back as he pulls you flush against him with his arm, and every shift of it scrapes at your nerve endings.

The pants that escape your mouth sound deafening in your ears, every twitch of your muscles amplified. It hurts, and even then, the edges of that pain are blurring, twisting into scalding pleasure. Your cheek feels the vibrations of his voice as your head rests in the hollow of his throat, and with the last of your lucidity, you catch the tail end of the conversation between your date and the server.

“— she’s had too much to drink, I’m afraid,” and through fogging vision, you observe as he hands the server the two wine glasses, remnants of red liquid at the bottom— but he had finished his wine and the rest of yours. “Have a good evening.”

He moves to get up, scooping you in his arms, and you’re powerless in your vulnerable state, body listless against his, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Before you know it, you’re being practically carried out the door, frosty air nipping at your feverish skin. Your date bends his legs to hook his arm under your knees, and with a grunt, picks you up in a cradle carry. Head lulling on his chest, a pathetic whimper slips past your lips at the smell of him and his cologne that you had formally thought was overpowering.

“I know, sweets. We’re going to my flat, and I’ll take good care of you there.” But as he approaches his car, you’re abruptly wrenched from his arms, an unmistakable voice speaks up, tone harsh, severe. 

“She’s not goin’ anywhere with you.” Simon?

Simon gently lowers you onto your wobbly legs, allowing you to steady yourself against the car. The freezing surface of it stings, a raw sensation surges through your body, and a sibilant hiss escapes your mouth. 

Simon steps away, and Johnny takes his place, cupping your face. You let out a soft moan at the contrast of his chilly hands on your burning skin. “Hey,” he softly says, “you a’right?” Your peripheral vision catches a flurry of quick movements, making you instinctively turn your head, but Johnny’s hands exert a gentle force, keeping your head locked in position, fixated on him.

“Eyes on me, bonnie.” Johnny’s hands lower, trailing down to your neck, cool fingers enveloping your throat, and this time, you mewl. Loudly. “Och, I ken, i ken. We’ll be home in no time, hm? Simon’s just takin’ out the trash.” 

Johnny’s thumb traces soothing circles against your fluttering pulse, and you whine when you imagine those circles being drawn on your throbbing clit, how euphoric it would feel. Maybe it would assuage the liquid fire in your veins— satiate the need to be filled, stretched.

“A’right hen, we’re takin’ ye to my house, gotta keep an eye on ye.” Johnny lifts you into a side carry, effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing. “It’ll be over soon.” God, you hoped so.

Placing you on his bed, Johnny takes off your heels and sits by your side, holding your hand in his. “How ye doin’?” Blinking, you thickly swallow and realize that your mind is clearer than it was at the restaurant. “Better, I think.” 

Johnny hums, and turns to Simon. “Can ye get her a glass o’ water?” Simon looks at you, then flicks his gaze to Johnny, and slowly dips his head, before pivoting to leave. “Just rest, hen, I think that dunderheid spiked yer drink. I told ye he was nae good, but nae, the lass is grown, she can make her own decisions, hm?” Johnny reaches out to caress your sweaty forehead and drags his roughened knuckles across your cheekbone. 

With a gentle touch, you reach up and firmly press his hand against your cheek, nuzzling it, and holding his gaze. “I’m too dependent on you,” and Simon walks in, a glass of water in hand, and your eyes shift towards him, “the both of you. One day, you’ll both move on, and,” your voice trembles, choked with emotion, as tears gather in your eyes, “I’ll be left behind and—” Simon’s deep timbre voice cuts off your outburst with a stern tone. 

“Enough.” Johnny gives Simon a reprimanding look, and takes the glass, handing it to you. 

“What Simon means t’say, is that yer haverin’, hen. Go on, drink yer water. All of it, gotta rehydrate, a’right?” As you knocked back the cup, you remained oblivious to them sharing a meaningful look, and Simon giving an imperceivable nod, one that Johnny reciprocated. 

Carefully setting down the glass on the nightstand, you get cozy under the covers, breathing in his comforting scent, eyes sliding shut. Johnny pats your leg once and whispers, “Get some rest, hen. We’ll be outside, call if ye need anythin’.” A sluggish tip of your head is his only response, and without a sound, the two men exit the room.

Johnny casually rests his weight on the kitchen island, absentmindedly scratching his arm. “How’d ye get that bawbag to use the drug?” Simon shrugs nonchalantly, and says, “A little persuasion.” Johnny hums low, and after a pause, questions, “And how long will it take fer the drug in the water to take effect?” 

“I gave her room temperature water,” Simon chuckles, “I say 5 minutes, give o’ take.” 

In a matter of moments, the distinct sound of your high-pitched keens and mewls reached their ears, causing them to exchange a knowing look.“Heads er tails?” Johnny asks, his eyes gleaming mischievously. Simon removes his mask, running his fingers through his tousled hair, and states, “Tails and the winner gets to come in her first.” 

They shake on it. 

A/N: i was told to make a pt.II by my moot @rookiesbookies so I GUESS I WILL. set under the cbf! johnny x ghost au.

[dungeonpuppykai]

Depraved Old Men! Simon Riley | John Soap MacTavish | König

Warning(s): Dubcon, dark undertones, stockholm syndrome, age gap, female reader x female reader, voyeurism, dacryphilia, fingering, cunnilingus, boob play, scissoring, humiliation, sir kink, daddy kink, corruption kink, misogyny. Minors do not interact. 

“Please!” 

Petal, Johnny's little girl, gurgles on her own tears and spit as a muscle in her back pulls so violently that her back arches in frustration and she has to pull her lips away from Darling's sticky cunt to look down at Angel in a pleading manner. 

“Please!” Darling has to bite back her whine at the loss of stimulation, her husband's -König- bark at her to knead Petal's breasts making her whimper before she goes to obey him like the good girl that she is. “Please, Angel!” Johnny loves how red his girl's face is, Darling's cum and her own snot and tears decorating her stunning features in the best way. “I am sorry! Please, please, please let me cum!” A turbulent sob knocks out of her, her stretched out arms that König's wife is seated on trembling above her head. 

Angel does her best to hide her unsympathetic expression, only quietly turning her head to look at her boyfriend Simon from where the men are sitting on the couch placed some steps away from them. 

It was meant to be a simple dinner at König's place where the other two men would bring their girls and there would be food and wine. But one thing led to another and it was after the girls had taken care of the dishes that they walked out of the kitchen hand-in-hand giggling amongst themselves about something when the idea came to Johnny. 

They had been confused at first, and then horrified. Their men were unfazed as Simon had turned the TV off so the girls could have their undivided attention. It had started with Simon ordering Darling and Angel to kiss. Then Johnny had prompted his own girl to join in. Next came making out and soon they had to grope each other. The stripping had started off slow and steady, going on until each girl was in her birth suit. Their postures were awkward, faces flushed and eyes teary as they went about kissing each other's boobs and letting the other two examine their cunts before reporting to the men how pretty they found each other. 

It didn't matter whether they wanted to or not. 

They never had a choice but to obey every cruel and depraved order there was in their relationships.

Simon shrugs. “It's your call, love” Petal cries out at that but even louder this time, her pleas nearly incoherent as her thighs tremble in Angel's hold. 

“Guess she's been a bad little girl, hasn't she?” Johnny chimes in, cruelly reassuring the puzzled girl.

Angel nods before her fingers that had previously been slowly swaying in and out of Petal's sopping cunt fully stop moving, causing for the girl to let out a bloodcurdling sob which makes Darling flinch and whimper. 

“No cumming” Angel evilly repeats Petal's words from a few minutes ago when she had the choice to either let the former have her sweet relief on Darling's mouth -whom König had ordered to show some love to her friend- or deny it. Being the brat that Petal was, she had decided against Angel's favour only for Johnny to betray her by suggesting that Angel taste Petal. Then Simon had ordered Darling to sit on Petal's face and here she was now. Panting, leaking, desperate, denied.

“Such a good girl, aren't you, Darling?” Simon's voice is gravelly from the effort it's taking him to hold himself back, one scarred hand palming the huge tent in his formal pants. “Why don't you and Angel give each other a treat for being so good for us, hm?” The youngest girl obediently mutters out a small ‘yes sir’ just how König has taught her before she crawls over Petal's form and reaches for Angel. 

The neglected girl feels left out as her bottom lip wobbles, pussy swollen, stretched and unsatisfied. She has no choice but to kneel next to the two girls who position themselves against one another in a scissoring position in accordance to Johnny's orders, palming each other's boobs and sharing chaste kisses upon Simon's command. 

“Aw” König darkly chuckles at Petal nibbling on her bottom lip while Angel and Petal begin to move against one another. “Such a poor little brat, aren't you, honey?” The girl averts her gaze to the ground, blushing in embarrassment as she hiccups every few breaths. “Maybe if you don't become hostile the minute you get the chance next time, you'll also get a nice little treat like the other two?”

Next… time? 

All of your hearts drop.

[corpsebasil]

Just Friends 18+

You could not. Stop. Laughing.

You tripped over the edge of the couch and squeaked, almost hitting the floor before Nikolai wrapped an arm around your waist, catching you easily. Your husband fought for breath as well; you didn’t even remember what the hell he’d said that was so funny. And then you did.

A courtier during dinner had remarked on how cute the two of you were. You’d gave Nikolai the most aggressive side eye of your life, and he barely clamped down a laugh before winking at you.

“My wife outshines me, I’m sure.” He drawled, reaching over to twine his fingers with your own.

“She’s beautiful, yes.” The courtier smiled, pleased with his attention, and then looked to you, raising her delicate brows. “If it’s not too intrusive, will the court be expecting any princesses or princes soon?”

You’d coughed, choking on your wine at the prospect. You and Nikolai were a political alliance, arranged since you two were children; you had the chemistry of a science lab, unfortunately, but it only resulted in him being your closest friend and the easiest man to tease of your life.

“Oh yes.” Nikolai gave you the side eye this time, silently urging you to play the part. And then his next comment made your face go completely red. “Between you and me, I plan on bedding her as soon as this dinner is finished.”

You kicked his leg under the table, shooting him a look, and the courtier blushed madly.

“Oh my, that’s—” she blinked with embarrassment and found her napkin suddenly extremely interesting, giving up on a civilized conversation with the king.

So now the two of you were in your rooms, both still hot with amusement at how shamelessly he’d lied to the courtier.

“You’re a bastard.” You gasped, jumping away to head to the bedroom. He followed, still grinning, and watched as you set your crown on the side table like it was a watch, tugging at the laces on the back of your dress. “Shit, can you—”

“Yep.” His fingers found your stays as he undid them, used to having done this for you before. He’d had no idea how difficult women’s dresses were before he’d married you, watching you hop around in vain, reaching for strings just out of grasp. “And technically, sweetheart, I am a bastard.”

“If you’re a bastard I’m a usurper.” You groaned out loud when the corset finally loosened, allowing you to get a proper damn breath for once. “You’re as illegitimate as I am. Besides,” you turned and raised a brow, reaching out to unbutton the first few clasps of his shirt. “all monarchy is kind of illegitimate, don’t you think?”

“I love it when we think the same.”

You smiled as you worked, your hands lingering on the smooth material of his shirt as your eyes drank in the smooth, golden skin of his chest. You felt briefly distracted, fingertips reaching out to touch him, just a soft graze, before you sucked in a breath and whirled around.

“I’m running a bath.” You said, cheeks warming all over again, ignoring the feel of his curious eyes on your back.

The water warmed quickly, the large claw-footed tub spacious enough that you could sprawl out completely inside the thing. You added soaps and oils, turning the water milky white, then for fun added a couple of dried petals you saw in your shared bath-cabinet.

“Nik?” You called into the livingroom as you tied your hair up, clipping it into a pile of curls on the top of your head. “Could you get us a nightcap?”

You heard his noise of agreement as you stepped out of your clothes, slipping one dainty foot and then the other into the water. You sighed as you sank down into the warmth, the water reaching just above your chest as you pulled your knees up and wrapped your arms around them.

You heard Nikolai’s feet on the tile as he came into the bathroom, handing you a glass.

“What’s with you and your fancy baths?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the tub with a raised brow. He’d finished unbuttoning his shirt completely and it hung open, a clear view of his ridiculously chiseled top half on display. You ignored the sight and took a long sip of your drink.

“Better than roughing it with a garden hose and a three-in-one body wash like you and your men do in your war camps.”

Your husband laughed and shook his head slightly, agreeing wholeheartedly with you.

“That water hose is dangerous.” He confided, eyes widening comically. “Especially when the water pressure is too high. Could take your skin off.”

You giggled, setting your glass down beside the tub as you propped your elbows on your knees. His eyes wandered over your exposed skin, never lingering for too long anywhere, but you still felt the weight of his stare like an invisible hand.

“How come you’ve never tried to make a move on me?” You asked, brave only because of the drink, and his smirk was only half-hearted.

“I don’t take shots I think I’m going to miss, Y/N.”

Your smile was cautious as you reached out, grasping his hand. And then your expression turned wicked, and he barely had time to set his drink down, already protesting, before you yanked him into the tub. Your laugh was booming and, in Nikolai’s opinion, completely diabolical, as he wiped water from his eyes while he adjusted his back against the opposite side of the tub, his clothes completely soaked.

“You,” he said, jabbing an irritated finger, “are the bane of my existence. I swear on every Saint that you are.”

“You love me.” You teased, grinning fiendishly, but your heart skipped a beat when his expression seemed to soften, his eyeroll too late to save the moment of vulnerability. “You’re not going to miss, Nik. If you try it.” You added, scanning his face, and his smile grew mischievous.

“No?” He asked, voice low, but his eyes darkened when you moved forward, coming over to straddle his lap in the water. Your upper half was completely bare to him, your breath catching when his hands slid around your waist, running soft touches against your skin. “Y/N,” he swallowed roughly. “if we’re still joking, it ends here. Because,” he shook his head, still examining your naked torso. “Saints.”

“Still the bane of your existence?” You asked, voice quiet, as you slipped your hands around his neck and kissed him as soft as you dared.

You both seemed to inhale at the same time, his arms gripping you tighter as your heart dropped into your stomach. He was your friend, your best friend but—you were also married to the man. Surely that entitled some sorts of…physical benefits.

“That courtier doesn’t even know you weren’t lying.” You smiled a bit arrogantly, pulling back to shove his sodden shirt off of him. It hit the tile next to the tub in a wet splat, and both your heads turned at the sound.

“We’ll get it later.” Nikolai promised, and then grasped your face in his hands, kissing you hard. He let out a small noise of pleasure against your mouth and, when his tongue brushed your lips, you let him in.

Your eyes practically rolled back when he grounded you down into him, and suddenly he was way too clothed for your liking. The water sloshed as you pulled away and reached down, yanking at his trousers.

“This would’ve been much more convenient, darling, if you would’ve asked me to get naked before I got in the water.”

“Just—” you huffed in annoyance but finally got them down his hips, and he lifted you up for a moment as he pulled them off, the soaked clothing joining his shirt with another comical splat.

You both laughed, then, at the ridiculousness, but your laughter quickly died in your throat when he scooped you back up into his lap and began kissing your neck, his other hand moving lower, and lower. You gasped when he nipped your skin in the same moment he ran his fingers across you, then slid inside, curling gently as he hit the spot that made your stomach drop.

“You taste oddly floral.” He mused, running his tongue over your skin as he lazily fucked you with his fingers.

“Oh my god, Nik.” You whispered, slipping a hand into his hair to wrap around the blond curls.

“Yes, wife?”

“I want you.”

“Where? Tell me, love.”

You glanced down at him and gave him an annoyed look that faltered the second his fingers curled again, making your breaths heave in your chest. So you leaned into him, kissing him deeply before you spoke.

“I want you inside me.” You said against his mouth, and when you pulled away his eyes were so lust filled that the pang of desire that rushed through you would’ve knocked you on your ass had you been standing.

Nikolai didn’t say a word, only removed his hand and guided you further up over him, and you sank down on him in a smooth motion that made your head spin. He let out a gasping noise and gripped your waist, both of you struggling to breathe through the pleasure.

“You feel—” his voice was so hoarse and low you got chills. “shit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, and slipped your arms around his neck, rolling your hips against his.

The water wasn’t nearly as warm as your skin as he thrust up, tugging your hips down to meet him every time. Your face pressed against his shoulder, your breathing ragged, and then you squeaked when he stood up suddenly, sending water sloshing onto the floor.

“Nik!” You yelped, even as your legs wrapped around his waist, changing the angle to a new, burning one. He kissed you as he walked, exiting the bathroom, ignoring your giggling protests as the both of you got water all over the floor. “Nikolai stop it you’re soaking the floor.”

“We’re soaking the floor, love. And the couch.”

“The—?” Your words were cut off when he laid you on top of the couch, settling back into you, snapping his hips against your own so hard you gasped, almost knocking your head against the arm of the couch. “Nikolai—”

“Fuck.” He groaned, burying his face in your neck as you took him, every inch of his gorgeous body pressed tight against yours.

You inhaled sharply when the sudden coil of pleasure, building so fast you’d hardly sensed it, snapped, and you let out a cry as he held you tighter to him, not letting you move an inch. He let out a soft moan against your skin and shuddered, the both of you trembling as you came down from the high. And then he was scooping you back up, into his lap, your breathing shallow as your heart raced in your chest.

“So,” Nikolai’s chest rose and fell quickly, his hands sliding up your bare, still wet back as his eyes studied your flushed face. “should I consider this a one time thing, or—”

You cut him off with a bruising kiss, your chest warm with an emotion you couldn’t place, especially when he kissed you back, a hand slipping into your wet hair and undoing the clip that held it up. As it tumbled around your shoulders he smiled softly, running his fingers through the strands.

“You’ve got gorgeous hair, you know that?” He said, tone almost contemplative, even as you blushed. His lips found your own again, soft and sweet, before he lifted you again, this time headed to your bed.

“Oh no,” you protested, grabbing the doorframe as you passed, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. “we are not getting in bed wet. I refuse.”

“Whatever the lady wants.” Nikolai sighed, setting you down and heading off to get towels.

You watched him go, fighting an internal squeal as you realized exactly what you’d just done. And holy gods the man knew what he was doing when he made love. You grinned involuntarily as your eyes landed on your crown, even though you knew he’d tease you mercilessly if he saw what a girlish mess you’d become after he’d kissed and—

“Y/N?” You almost jumped out of your skin at his sudden words, spinning around to snatch a towel from him. His eyes glimmered with amusement, raising an eyebrow. “Daydreaming about me?”

“Of course not.” You lied, drying off and slipping a nightgown over your head. “I was thinking about chocolate. It’s very delicious.”

“Want me to get you some?” He offered, still amused, and you rolled your eyes.

“No. Now get in bed so I can kiss you again.”

His laughter was cut off by your mouth when you turned the lights off and practically pounced on him, his body warm and perfect against your own. You kissed for a while, just kissing, learning each other all over again as his hands ran over your skin, yours in his hair and grasping the back of his neck.

And the next morning, when a maid came in to bring tea and saw the absolute mess you two had made, water drying on the tiles and your sodden clothes by the still full tub, she blushed profusely and quickly left, not bothering to wait for dismissal.