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[preferredjewelers]

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[rummelesjewelers]

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[thecrownnet]

Lesley Manville as Princess Margaret in The Crown final season

[celandeline]

Not Your Boyfriend, Baby

Farleigh X Reader, SMUT - tw for cheating, reader both cheats and is cheated on

part two

Being Felix’s girlfriend comes with a set of rules. 

Always stand to his right, so that he can hand you whatever he’s holding without having to think about it. Let him pull you into his lap whenever he wants, even if you’d really rather just sit next to him - always sit next to him. Laugh at the jokes he makes, even if they aren’t funny. Help him with his coursework when he asks, pretend that you need help with things that you know he’s good at so he doesn’t feel stupid. Pretend that he can make you cum. Pretend you don’t know he’s cheating on you.

Being Felix’s girlfriend comes with a set of rules - but the perks are worth it. 

The necklace he got you for your birthday costs more than your first car, and if you ever sell it, will easily cover rent for at least a year. Designer clothes have a habit of appearing in your dorm room unannounced, always in your size - just because Felix likes when you look good next to him. No clubs are too exclusive to get into, there’s always a booth in the back of the pub reserved for you, people bend over backwards just for the chance of being in Felix’s vicinity - so naturally they’ll do anything for you. 

You’re using him as much as he’s using you - it’s mutually beneficial. You get to live within his innermost circle, he gets to have someone to bring home to his parents so they don’t start looking into arranged marriages after graduation. You have no intentions of actually marrying him, god no - you’ve heard him talk about how many kids he wants, there’s no way in hell you’re pushing out six - but you’ll take what you can get. Felix is a comfortable rung on the social ladder you’re trying to climb. 

“Right, love?” 

Felix’s voice drags you out of your thoughts and back into reality - the warm lighting of the pub casts everyone around your table in a warm golden glow. You’re pressed against Felix’s right side - always his right side - his arm perched on the back of the booth around your shoulders, casually possessive. It’s a little funny how possessive he is, considering how often he cheats on you. On his other side, Annabel nurses a pint, her overlined eyes locked on Felix, utterly enraptured. 

Across the table, India looks at him with the same hunger, even though her head rests on Farleigh’s shoulder. Farleigh looks how you feel - utterly bored, his eyes wandering the room as he idly smokes a cigarette. He’s always been prettier than Felix. More interesting too. If you weren’t trying to climb the social ladder high enough to marry rich and not have to work a day in your life, he’d be who you’re pressed against instead of Felix. There’s something about him that’s always given you the sense that he sees right through you, but it’s exciting. You know he knows why you’re here next to Felix, with a diamond he bought you around your neck. But Felix has no idea - he thinks you’re in love with him. 

It’s laughable, how in his own head he is. 

Still, you feed into the delusion, that practiced sugary-sweet smile playing at your lips as you look up at him. “Mhm.” You hum, picking up your pint and sipping at it. 

Felix grins wide, and turns back to Annabel. “See?”

Annabel rolls her eyes, leaning around Felix to pin a look at you. “You weren’t even paying attention.”

The animosity that every other girl within a fifty mile radius directs at you is the one drawback of being Felix’s main piece. Your smile turns a little sharper. “Yeah.” You admit easily, setting your pint back down. “But I know Felix enough to know that he was probably right.”

Across the table, Farleigh snorts. 

Your eyes slide over to him, and he meets your glance. Ever so slightly, he tilts his head, a dry smile playing at his lips - a silent, really?

You tilt your head in the same direction, mocking - yes, really.

Felix turns back to Annabel. “I’m always right, Anna - best get used to it.”

She rolls her eyes again, but this time it’s playful - flirty, even. You can already see how the rest of tonight is going to play out - Felix will make some excuse about drinking too much or not feeling well or whatever else his idiotic brain can come up with, and disappear back to his dorm room to fuck her. Tomorrow, of course, you’ll act like you’re none the wiser. In two weeks time, when the guilt starts to get at him, a new pair of heels or a Dior skirt will find its way into your closet. 

Simply the way of things. 

Pulling away from Felix’s hold, you make to get up. He glances at you, concerned, but you only smile, and kiss him on the cheek so that you can slide out of the booth. “Gotta use the loo.”

You brush your hands down your skirt as you stand up, and start towards the back of the pub, where the bathrooms are, tossing a look over your shoulder back at the table. You catch Farleigh’s eye, and hold it for a moment. His lips curl upward around his cigarette. With Felix likely going home with Annabel, your schedule for the night just opened up…

Maybe tonight’s the night you do something - someone - just for yourself. Set your plans for the future aside for once, and just have fun. After all, you’re confident Felix will be none the wiser - you know exactly what not to do after watching him fumble around with any and every other girl that’s caught his eye. 

You disappear into the bathroom, Farleigh’s gaze still on you. 

The noise from the pub is quieter here, just a dull hum seeping in through the walls. You lock the door behind you, and inspect yourself in the mirror. You smudge the dark eyeshadow around your eyes a little more, and fluff up your hair so that it doesn’t sit so lifelessly against your head. Your sex appeal back in place, you splash some water on your hands and pat them against your skirt before you leave, stepping back out into the pub. 

As expected, Farleigh is waiting for you, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, finishing off his cigarette. A quick glance back at the table lets you know that you were right - Annabel and Felix are gone. India’s moved onto Jack now, laughing a little too loud at something he says. 

“Felix said he wasn’t feeling well, all of a sudden.” Farleigh drawls, bringing your attention back to him. “Annabel’s walking him home.” There’s a touch of humor in his voice that you appreciate - he knows just as well as you do what they’re off to do.

“Shame.” You say, not bothering to try and sound actually sad at all. It wouldn’t fool Farleigh anyway. “Got tired of India?” You snatch the last of his cigarette from his fingers, finishing it off in one drag and dropping the butt to the floor, stamping it out with my boot. 

Farleigh watches you, his eyes half-lidded. “Is there such a thing as not being tired of India?”

“She’s not all bad.” You say. 

He tilts his head, that wry smile coming back to his face. “She’s not trying to fuck you.”

You can’t help but grin at that. “Touche.” You wouldn’t know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of India’s flirting - but if Farleigh’s boredom is anything to judge by, she must not be very good at it. 

Silence falls between us, and you let yourself look at him, eyes tracing down the lines of his neck until you reach the hollow at the base, and then back up to his lips.

“So.” Farleigh says. 

You meet his eyes again. “So.”

He grins, foxlike and charming. “You wanna get out of here?”

The walk back to campus is short, but it feels longer with how much you talk about with Farleigh - school and America and family and money and Felix and a million other, less important, things. It’s the most intellectually stimulating conversation you’ve had in a long time, and the most you’ve genuinely laughed in a while too. It’s everything you’ve been missing with Felix - and it makes the war between your want for fortune and fame in the future and your want for genuine connection rage all the more. 

It comes to an end all too quickly for your liking, as you reach the steps to your dorm. 

You slow to a stop, and Farleigh stops as well, looking down at you, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Does it ever bother you?” He asks.

“What?” You reply. 

“That he cheats on you.” Farleigh clarifies. 

It’s a complicated question to answer, so instead you turn it around on him instead. “Does it ever bother you that he’s fucked India?”

Farleigh rolls his eyes. “That’s-”

“He does it to literally everyone.” You press on. “I stopped caring a while ago.”

Something contemplative washes over his face, and he just looks at you for a moment, eyes searching yours for something. His next question is quieter. “Who would you pick, if you weren’t stuck with him?”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “I’m not stuck with him.”

Farleigh looks at you, obviously amused. “I can see you trying not to roll your eyes every time he opens his mouth.”

You shrug. “The pros outweigh the cons.”

“So cynical.” He taunts, stepping closer. “You still haven’t answered the question.”

“I think it’s fairly obvious who I would pick if I wasn’t with Felix.” You say, letting him back you up the steps until your back is against the door. You look up at him, and meet his eyes. 

He grins. “Yeah, but I want you to say it.”

“It’s you.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. “Like it would be anyone else-”

He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, a moan leaving him as you deepen the kiss without waiting, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and vodka and it’s made all the more delicious by the little noises that keep working up his throat, elicited when you grab him by the belt and pull him closer so that you’re chest to chest. He groans when you sink your teeth into his bottom lip and pull away, tugging him with you by the mouth. When you release him, he still follows after you anyway, chasing you for more. 

Fingers still dancing on his belt, you smile. “Come up to my dorm with me?”

“Yes, fuck, please.” He already sounds debauched, and it sends a spike of heat straight down to your core. Felix would never deign himself to beg. 

You push open the door to the dorm building, and start up the stairs, Farleigh trailing only a half step behind you. You fumble with your keys once you reach the door to your room, and Farleigh latches onto the back of your neck, trailing kisses across the sensitive skin that send a shiver up your spine.

Once you get the door open, you drag him inside and kick it back shut, locking it behind you. 

Farleigh’s back on you in an instant, mouthing under your jaw. You wind a hand into his curls, pulling his head back from your neck. “Don’t leave any marks or Felix-”

He rolls his eyes, and cuts you off. “Duh.”

Without any more preamble he dives back into your neck, kissing along the length of it until he makes his way back up to your lips. You meet him in a kiss greedily, pushing off the door behind you and walking him back towards your bed. He hits the bedframe and breaks the kiss to sit on the edge. With a grin, you’re climbing into his lap and gently pushing him down until his backs flat against the mattress. 

He’s so pretty like this - curls splayed out across your duvet cover, hands gripping onto your hips like you’ll float away if he lets go. You run a hand under his shirt, rucking it up so that you can see the way his stomach flexes when you touch him. Slowly, you dip your head down to lick a trail up his abdomen, never breaking eye contact. 

He tips his head back with a shaky groan. “Oh, fuck.”

You grin, shifting forward so that you can nose under his jaw, lips ghosting across the shell of his ear. “What about you? Will India get mad if I-”

“Don’t fucking care, I want you to do it anyway.” He says, a little breathless. He’s so responsive - every little groan and whine shoots heat straight to your core. If sex with Felix was like this, maybe you wouldn’t have to pretend to be in love with him. 

You sink your teeth into his neck just below his ear and he keens, his hips knocking up into yours. His fingers dig into your hips, bunching the fabric of your skirt into his fists like he’s holding on for dear life. You take the opportunity to start the slow roll of your hips as you work a chain of hickeys across his neck, scattering them artfully around his collarbone. 

Deft fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, pushing it up your spine until you get the message and pull it off yourself, flinging it somewhere in your room. Farleigh wiggles out of his own shirt underneath you, pushing the offending garment off the edge of the bed. Freed of your shirt, you reach behind you to unclasp your bra as well, tossing it in the same direction. 

Farleigh’s eyes fall to your tits immediately, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate. “I see why Felix keeps you around-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You say with a smile. Even when you have him in your bed, he’s the same old Farleigh. It’s a breath of fresh air after having to pretend you like when Felix calls himself ‘daddy’. 

Your skirt is next, and then the tights you’d had on underneath it as Farleigh works on his trousers, kicking them off the end of the bed. Only your underwear left, you resume grinding against him, watching as his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he uses his grip on your hips to work you over him harder. 

“How do you want me?” You ask, leaning down to press more kisses along the length of his neck. 

You expect him to respond - to tell you to turn over on all fours or ride him reverse cowgirl - but he only sighs in the back of his throat. “Whatever you like, baby.” 

You press your lips to his in another greedy kiss, licking into his mouth and swallowing up the moans that slip past his lips. He’s not making it easy to think about going back to Felix after this. Felix, who calls himself ‘daddy’ and manhandles you around however he likes and hasn’t made you cum a single time. You can feel your wetness starting to seep into the fabric of your underwear from how malleable Farleigh is underneath you - how he looks at you like he’d gladly do anything you ask him to. 

You slip your fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and shuck them down his legs. Your own underwear are next, and then you’re grinding on him again, spreading your wetness up and down his length. 

Farleigh’s grip tightens, and he tips his head back again. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he moans. “Mm.” He picks his head back up enough so that he can look at you. “I was going to ask if you wanted me to go down on you but - mm - I don’t think you need it- oh fuck!”

Rising up on your knees, you line him up and slide down him in one drop of your hips, lodging him inside of you. He’s longer than Felix is, but skinnier too so the stretch doesn’t sting as much. God, it’s like he was made for you, with how easily he reaches right where you need him to without even trying. You start to bounce, planting your hands on his chest for leverage and tossing your head back, losing yourself in the feeling. 

Farleigh whines, a high pitched breathy thing that sounds like it’s been forced out of him as you start to move. Gently, you pry his hands away from your hips and pin them down over his head, just because he lets you do it. It’s a rush - that he’ll let you do whatever you want and take it happily - and it goes to your head. He strains against your grip but you don’t let up, working yourself up and down his cock just to watch his eyes roll up into his head. 

“What- ahh, what are you doing?” Farleigh chokes out, straining against your grip again. 

“Whatever I want.” You croon, whispering against his lips. 

He snags you in a kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth hungrily as he plants his feet on the mattress, thrusting so that his hips meet yours on every downstroke. A sharp gasp forces its way out of your throat as the coil in your stomach starts to tighten, and you can’t help but smile at him. It’s almost a novelty, the way he works with you instead of against you like Felix often does. 

He grins back up at you, and tilts his chin upward to kiss you again. Breathy, he says, “Felix is an idiot.”

You choke on a moan as a particularly hard thrust jolts through you. “Why’s that?”

“He doesn’t know what he has.” Farleigh says. “I’ve fucked India and - fuck - Annabel and they’ve got nothing on you.”

You laugh and moan at the same time. “You don’t have to - mm - be nice just so I’ll let you cum in me.”

“I can be nice.” He breathes. 

You ghost your lips over his neck. “You’re never nice.”

“I can be nice.” He insists, turning his head so that you can litter kisses along the length of his neck. You trail upwards until you reach the lobe of his ear, biting gently at the skin. “To you.”

“Careful.” You say. “Better stop now or I might think you’re in love with me or something-”

Farleigh tenses up beneath you, as a long groan escapes from his lips as he throws his head back. He thrusts three more times before he stills, slumping back down to the mattress, panting hard. His eyes flutter open, blown wide as he looks up at you. 

You can feel a smirk playing on your lips. “Did you just cum?”

He has the decency to look a little ashamed. “Maybe.”

You laugh, and kiss him. “Well, what are we supposed to do now?”

“I’m good.” He insists, working his wrists free of your hold. “I can still- here, just-”

He pulls you to his chest and rolls on the mattress so that you’re underneath him now, and resumes fucking into you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. The change in position makes the feeling all the more potent, and a moan slips out from your lips. 

Winding your arms around his shoulders, you rake your nails up his back, and feel him shiver against you. “Farleigh…”

“Don’t fucking do that.” He laughs. “I’ll cum again.”

You toss your head back against the pillow as he speeds up his thrusts, obviously trying to get you to cum before he’s too spent to keep going. You let your eyes flutter shut and enjoy the feeling of him against you, the tickle of his curls against your neck, the breathy moans that slip from his lips into your ear, the feeling of his teeth against your neck as he sucks a hickey into your skin-

“Farleigh-” You start, only to cut yourself off as the coil finally snaps and pleasure shoots through you. “Oh fuck-”

He groans, and shoves his face deeper into your neck as his thrusts slow to a stop. He slumps again, flopping on top of you with a long sigh.

When you come back to your senses, you tug on his hair until he grumbles. “You are such a dick.” You say. “I said no marks.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles into your skin. 

“No you’re fucking not.” You retort. 

He lifts his head out of your neck, that foxlike grin on his face again. “No I’m not.”

“What am I supposed to do now?” You ask. 

He pulls out, and flops back down on the bed next to you, nosing back into the crook of your neck as he slings an arm over your chest. “Makeup. Wear your hair down.” He shrugs. “It’s Felix - he’ll probably think he did it.”

You rest your chin on the top of his head, the aftershocks of pleasure running through you. “‘M never having sex with you again.”

Farleigh snorts. “Yeah, okay.”

You smile into his hair, because he’s right. Of course he’s right. There’s no way in hell this isn’t going to become a regular occurrence. 

[miguelhugger2099]

Here, Kitty Kitty

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is your world's Black Cat. A/N: me when there's no fanfic of miguel as black cat: fine, ill do it myself Art: Marbipa on twt

Miguel x Reader, No warnings, a little suggestive but that's it, Word Count: 2,535

Swinging on your webs, you hopped from building to building and made sure to to keep an eye out for any more crime during your patrol. You hoped that tonight would be a breeze but unfortunately, the life of a superhero will never rest. You landed by one of the police antennas and heard a call coming through their radios. Tilting your head, you focused on the frequencies to get a better signal. "All units be advised. We've got a call for a robbery in Lower Manhattan. Heading there now, requesting backup." You glanced up at the sky seeing the moon illuminate brightly. "I guess I could help the boys in blue." You shrug and thwip your web shooters, the silk spinning and sticking to another building before jumping off to gain momentum. You hauled yourself up after swinging, diving down between apartments and just barely slipping through a couple fire exits. You thought about who it might be this time. Maybe it was the Shocker again. Oh, he was always so easy to make fun of. No, that wasn't possible: you put him in prison. You just hoped it wasn't another one of Tombstone's men--they were always a little too cocky. Maybe just a couple of randoms trying to make extra cash the wrong way–a boring way to end the night but at least it'd be easy. You swung faster after hearing the sirens of police cars echoing throughout the night of New York. You saw a few police cars behind you and you giggled to yourself, playing a one sided game of who would get there faster. Always the competitive one you were, you stuck your webs onto two poles and pulled back so hard that they bent slightly. Your forearms burned until you let go, slingshotting yourself in the sky and allowing yourself to glide above the city. You wished to take off your mask and feel the breeze properly but you settled for the ripples flapping on your suit. "Robbery, robbery, robbery..." You murmured, swiveling your head around to see where the robbery could've been. You blinked as you spotted the familiar colors of blue and red flashing in the distance. "Robbery!" You grinned.

Zipping through the wind, you landed above what you now see is a jewelry store. You crawl into the shadows, making sure none of the policemen could see you. "Hm. I guess they win this time." You mutter to yourself about your little game. Perching on the ledge, you listened in on their conversation. "Any security footage?" One policewoman asks. "We're checking them now but so far after entering the perimeter, all cameras have been damaged." "Did you see what was stolen?" "A few rings and bracelets. But the owner is more concerned with a diamond necklace. Says it was going to be auctioned off later this weekend." You tilt your head in thought. And they got away? Definitely not some regular citizens. You began to feel a headache creep on you. You couldn't handle another big bad to fight this weekend. You stepped down from the ledge carefully and walked around the top of the building to find a vent. Once you did, you ripped it open and crawled inside, your body sticking to the ceiling. You looked around and saw various cases filled with glittering jewels, ranging in size and colors. You crawled through another room and hopped off the ceiling with a small thud. Looking behind you, you made sure no one had seen you and you began rummaging through the room to find any evidence lying around to catch the perpetrator.

You found yourself in front of the glowing case in the middle. You circled around it, the eyes of your mask squinting at the empty sloth that would've fit a giant diamond necklace inside. The glass was perfectly intact instead of ruthlessly shattered. This was no common thief. No fingerprints, everything was spotless and clean. You took a closer look. "Looking for this, arañita?" You hear a smooth voice behind you. You spin around, shooting your webs to trap the wrist of the stranger behind you to the wall. The familiar tall man you've had a complicated relationship with, Miguel O'Hara a.k.a. Black Cat. His skin tight black suit hugged his built body, white fur fluffed at his forearms and around his shoulders. His suit was opened at his chest, a long slit that gave everyone a nice view of his tanned skin littered with little black and graying hairs. His dark brown eyes were decorated with a thin diamond shaped mask that did little to hide his ‘secret identity’. His dark brown hair was in its usual slick back, gray strands curling in his locks and a pretty black collar around his neck. He tilted his head at you and lifted his other hand to cut your webs off him with an extracted claw. “Eso es como se trata un amigo? I thought your whole thing was being friendly, arañita.” Miguel says light-heartedly, unphased at the way your mask narrowed at him. You noticed that the hand you had webbed up was holding onto a pouch. Miguel slips open the pouch by its strings, lifting out the diamond necklace. He clips it around his neck and it shines in the moonlight that seeps through the ceiling window. He admires his reflection in the cases, his gloved hand caresses the jewels, his nail being gentle with grazing over it. “Isn’t she just a beauty? She’s not my style, personally, but I can appreciate her.” His eyes meet yours and he grins. “I think you would make it look even more beautiful.” You ignore his blatant flirting, your hands itching at your sides, wanting to snatch the pouch from him and return it to the police so the owner could have a good night’s rest–so you could have a good night’s rest. Now knowing the one behind this was Black Cat, your headache had gotten worse and you knew it’d be a long night. Miguel stalks up to you after taking the necklace off and placing it back in his pouch.

“What’s wrong, arañita? Cat got your tongue?” He smirked, his claw grazing under your chin and making you look up at him. You bit down on your tongue. This cat always had a way of pissing you off. “I thought we agreed you’d put this behind you. You’re rich. What more could you possibly want?” You grab his wrist and take his hand off from your chin. “Would you believe me if I said I just wanted your attention?” His lips curl up, showing off his fangs. “No.” “Ouch. I’m hurt. I thought we had something.” His smile doesn't falter. “Give back the jewels, Miguel.” ‘Hmm. No. These could go for a lot of money. Way more than whatever that auction it is they’re doing.”

“Miguel, you promised me you would be good.”

His eyes soften for a split second. The memory of your last encounter months ago where you two had spent the night together in the city up on the Empire State building. Your relationship was a confusing one. There had been nights where you were on opposite sides and other nights where he answered your call for help.

Miguel began to trust you. Despite his tendencies to slip between your fingers, you always spoke to him kindly when he wasn’t pushing your buttons–even then he knew you never harbored any actual hatred for him. So after a long night, he confided in you that this was his new life and it wouldn’t change–he’d always come back to a life of crime, it’s who he was. You believed he was better than that.

That night before he disappeared for months, he pulled up your mask just enough to see your lips and he kissed you, leaving with a promise to do better. But cats were known to do whatever they wanted. “You know I’m not good like you, arañita.” His smile turns melancholy. “But you could be.” You insisted. “Give me the pouch.” “I can’t do that, amor.” 

You huffed through your nose, jaw clenching, and you tried to snatch the bag from his hand as quickly as you could. Miguel was faster, his clawed hand grabbing you and forcing you to bend over the glass display of jewelry with your arm behind your back.

You grunted when your cheek met the hard glass and attempted to worm your way out of his hold. You feel Miguel lean over your body, his warm breath whispering next to your ear.

“I've thought about you like this. Maybe with a little less clothing.” He teases and chuckles when you stiffen. 

“Miguel.” You warn lowly. 

“It's been nice seeing you again, arañita, but I've got to run.” You hear a dull clanking sound along with a small whizz.

You felt rope like strings wrap around your body and arms and suction themselves to the glass he slammed you on, trapping you.

Shit.

You crane your head as much as you could to see Miguel take a step back away from you. Just for shits and giggles, he plucks a pair of earrings from a stand and places it inside his bag before raising his hand up at the ceiling window. 

Miguel gives you a wink and a charming smile and his grappling hook zips out from his wrist, denting itself in the wall. It pulls him up and he pops the window open, successfully escaping without leaving a trace.

You groan and knock your forehead on the cold glass. With your strength, you pop the rope off you, stretching your arm and wrist out.

Police began to enter inside the building, their commotion and their comms going off and getting closer to you.

Collecting the ropes, you webbed yourself out through the same window Miguel used and closed it behind you. You tossed the ropes away and began swinging around, trying to sense any trace of Miguel.

“Dammit, kitty.” You mutter under your breath. You ignored the way your heart pounded as you scanned every nearby corner. The sight of him after so long sent flutters in your stomach. You ignored the lingering hot touch of his fingers around you, the weight of his body towering over yours. His hips that gently bucked up against–

You tumbled on the roof of a brick building. This was not how you wanted your night to go. You let out deep breaths, your arms and legs spread out as you lay on your back. 

After a couple of minutes, you sat up. You ripped your mask off and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You felt a turmoil of emotions. 

When Miguel had kissed you that night, it broke your heart. He felt so sure of himself to give you affection but at the cost of his disappearance right after. It hurt but you thought if he could turn his life around for the better, it'd be worth all the heartbreak and what ifs.

You stood up and placed your mask back on your head, your arm raising up to shoot a web when your spider senses alerted you of someone. 

You turn around to see Miguel, half of his body in the shadows.

“I don't have the pouch so don't shoot.” He raises his hands in a mock surrender.

“Didn't you say you needed to run?” Your voice spits and Miguel nods.

“I also said it was nice to see you again.” He walks up to you, his hands gently placing themselves on your hips. You stand tall, not wanting him to know his effect on you. “So forgive me, I'm a little selfish. I wanted to see you one more time.”

“Why are you back?” You mumble. Why are you back in New York?

“I'm sorry, corazón. You know me. It's what I do.”

“So you lied to me.”

Miguel winces. “No. No, I didn't. I tried, believe me.” His hands squeeze your hips. “I tried for you but…it's not for me. This,” He gestures to himself, clad in black spandex and white fur. “This is who I am now. It's how I have to live.”

He cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your mask-covered face. He wonders what you looked like underneath. Were you as beautiful as your body? Your heart? He dreamed so. He knew so.

“I still don't believe that.” You whisper, leaning into his touch, hands slowly going around the back of his neck and he takes it as an invite to bring you closer.

“You're still so naive.” He murmurs.

“You said you liked that about me.” You quipped. Miguel chuckles.

“I did say that.” 

You feel a smile creep up on your face, your heart feeling lighter at the sound of his laugh.

“Hopefully we'll cross paths more often now that I'm back in New York.” Miguel grins. “Te extrañe.”

“I missed you too.” You whisper. With your chest pressed up against his, you could faintly feel the rumble of him purring. Miguel's claws run under your throat, flicking up the fabric of your mask to expose just a bit of your neck as if wanting to lift it off. “But you know I have to turn you in for robbing.” You add.

“Hm. A shame.” He mumbles dismissively. He continues to ride up your mask and you let him. He stops at your nose and leaves it there, eyes focused on the way your lips parted. “Kiss for good luck?” He asks. His eyes glint when you licks your lips subconsciously.

“You’re pushing it, kitty.” You mumble back but your arms tighten around him. Miguel purrs at the pet name.

“Just one kiss.” He insists, leaning down to brush his lips against your mask where your forehead was. You tilt his head further down with your hand at the back of his head and he follows. With your guidance, his lips find yours and your heart skips a beat. Miguel tugs you closer by the waist, pressing your chest and hips together. His hands crawl up your spine while he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. You match his pace with your eyes closed while you feel his soft lump lips caressing yours. You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted–not when his hands roamed your body, squeezing you and devouring as much of your tiny moans as he could. Your hands curled up at the base of his neck while he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip. Gasping, you allowed him access but he pulled away. “I’ll see you next time, arañita.” Miguel whispers against your lips,the fangs of his teeth gently nibble on your top lip before he pulls away. He squeezes your waist, his touch lingering and aching to keep you near but he lets go. He takes a step back from you and jumps back into the night, the sound of his grappling hook zipping through the air faintly. You sigh, trying to slow down your heartbeat with a hand over your chest when suddenly you pause. “Dammit…” You huff and kick a pebble away from you.

a/n: black cat miguel o'hara if you can hear me, please save me, save me black cat miguel o'hara

[goosita]

young!politician!snow enjoys making you squirm, knowing how easy it is to get reactions out of you

it’s so easy for him to throw you off balance, to surprise you at every turn. ever since the night he drove you home, with his hand resting so warm and heavy on your thigh, you’ve barely been able to focus at work. every time your mind starts to wander, it ends up settling and fixating on the same thing; him.

you wonder if he can sense it, if he can feel your eyes trailing over every inch of him when he breezes out of his office for another coffee break. your gaze lingers on his broad shoulders when his back is turned, or on his pretty profile when he’s looking the other way. you try not to let it be obvious, politely averting your eyes when he spins to face you again or return to his office.

it’s been several days since the night you let him drop you off at your apartment, and coriolanus takes up about 98% of your thoughts. he’s on his third cup of black coffee for the day when he pauses and turns to face you, speaking up.

“do you have plans for this evening, miss y/n?” he asks, smiling kindly at you. you’re not sure what to say, caught off guard by his question.

“nothing other than melting into my couch with a book, sir,” you answer honestly. your heart kicks up in pace at his question, wondering why he’d want to know.

“well, you do now.”

you blink and furrow your brows, looking at him unsure. you can tell he’s a little frazzled today, hair slightly out of place from running his hand through it several times. he takes a long sip of his coffee and sighs.

“i have to go to a gala tonight, something they only just told me now at the last minute,” he explains, looking down into his cup. “of course, i’ll need a date.”

you stare at him, not sure if the world is playing some sick joke on you or not. coriolanus lifts his eyes and stares right back at you, waiting for you to say something.

“…..me?”

it comes out as a pathetic squeak, but he doesn’t point it out. he simply nods, icy gazs still boring into you while you scramble for an answer.

“uhm. y-yeah, yeah okay,” you stutter, feeling small under his stare. he gives you an easy smile then, his whole demeanor seemingly going more lax.

“excellent. finish whatever you’re working on and log off for the day, we have time find you a dress.”

dress shopping with coriolanus snow is something you never thought would ever happen, yet here you are. he had slid you into your coat at the door after you’d logged off your computer, whisking you down to his car which he again drove himself. as you’d opened your mouth to say you didn’t really have money for a new dress, he’d cut you off easily, telling you that if he was the one to drag you to this gala, the least he could do was pay for your outfit.

now, you stood in front of a wall of mirrors in a green silk gown that hugged your body in all of the right ways. it fell to the floor, but bared your shoulders and arms. coriolanus walked in a slow circle around you, scanning every inch of your body carefully. he stopped then and nodded at one of the fitting room attendants, who brought him a black velvet box. inside, a white diamond necklace sat with a single, small pendant. a snowflake.

you tried as hard as you could not to shiver when coriolanus stepped behind you, carefully moving your hair to clasp the necklace around your throat. you could feel his breath on the back of your neck and you kept your eyes down, almost afraid to catch his gaze in the mirror.

“beautiful,” he whispered, so soft that you were certain that you were the only person who heard it. his fingertips slowly trailed down your spine and it was impossible not to shudder.

“look at yourself,” he said quietly, reaching around to your front, lifting your chin. you looked over your reflection, tilting your head to the side. he was right; the dress was absolutely stunning, the pendant resting on your sternum sparkly but understated, tasteful.

“its lovely, coryo,” you said, finally meeting his eyes in the mirror. his plush lips stretched into a dazzling smile, clearly pleased at your use of his nickname.

“yes, you are.”

you didn’t notice as the fitting room attendants all exited, leaving you alone with coriolanus in the secluded dressing room. his hand traveled down from your chin to your shoulder, fingertips brushing down your arm before taking your own hand in his. he smiled again and led you over to a seat, gesturing for you to sit.

coriolanus grabbed a box and lifted it open, revealing a pair of silver heels that looked more expensive than a year’s worth of your rent. and then, he did something you would never imagine.

coriolanus snow kneeled before you.

you stopped yourself from inhaling sharply at the surprise, at the image of who everyone knew to be the eventual future president of Panem, dropping to his knees at your feet. he carefully lifted the hem of your dress, just enough to wrap a hand around your ankle and place your foot in his lap. then, he picked up one shoe and slit it on, taking extra care to clasp the strap around your ankle. his eyes lifted to yours, gazing up at you almost reverently as he stroked over the bone on the inside of your ankle. he held your stare for a long moment before repeating the action on your other foot.

“coriola—“

he cut you off as he rose to his feet again, taking your hand and pulling you up.

“do they fit alright?” he asked, breaking the intimate bubble he had created a moment ago. you nodded, swallowing hard.

“yes,” you breathed, searching his eyes curiously. what was he playing at here? what was he thinking?

“perfect. i suspect it’ll be a lovely evening, hm?”

[tallulah477]

Birthday Gift

Kinkmas Day 2: Titty Fucking

Pairing: Prince!Human!Neteyam x Maid!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Tit fucking, Slight dirty talk, Slight possessive/obsessive behavior and language, Cumming on chest/tits

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Dedicated to @tsewtx for creating this fantastic AU. Love you, Wren! Catch up on Royalty AU here!

Summary: (Royalty AU) Prince Neteyam receives a lot of fine gifts for his birthday, but the only thing he really wants is you on your knees and your perfect tits around his cock.

Prince Neteyam always receives many gifts for his birthday.

He is recipient to the finest jewelry, made from precious metals and adorned with a multitude of diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires. Amongst the small mountains of gold and silver crafted pieces, hang other pieces of lavish clothing - soft, silk dress shirts in multiple colors, intricate waistcoats that look like they took a lifetime to create.

A new pair of leather riding boots that would look good on him, but that look amazing on you. 

“C’mon, y/n,” He mumbles, dark eyes glittering with desire as they trace along your standing figure. “Show me the new things I own,”

You stand in front of him, clad only in an unbuttoned emerald green silk shirt that falls halfway down your thighs and the leather boots that hug your legs until just below the knee, the little buckles on the sides clanking with each step you take as you walk uncertainty towards him, giving him a small twirl when he silently moves his pointer finger in a circle. 

He grins at your hesitance. So many years of doing this with him, being his good girl, his whore, the perfect little maid for his majesty - and you’re still so shy, like somehow you’re not 100% positive that he's completely and utterly obsessed with you. 

“You don’t have to be bashful,” He says, leaning forwards so he can rest his forearms on his thighs as he gazes at the expanse of soft skin on display, both between the gap of the shirt hem and boots as well as the tempting sliver of smooth, markable canvas shown between the open button down. “You know you’re the most beautiful woman alive.”

The flush on your face and the way you can’t meet his eyes make his cock even harder in his trousers. The hard length pushes at the tight material, threatening to burst the seams. Neteyam stands, eager to be closer to you, to touch you, and relieve some of the pressure. He crosses the room, tall figure towering over yours as he stares down at you, eyes filled with heat as he grips your jaw in his large hand, possessively. 

“You look so pretty in my clothing,” He murmurs, tilting your head up so your plump lips brush against his. 

“Thank you, your highness,” 

Neteyam’s lips are warm against yours as he kisses you, the soft press of his mouth against yours is enough to make your breathing stutter no matter how many times it’s happened before. His lips slide across your cheek, laying gentle kiss after gentle kiss along the heated skin as he makes his way to your ear. His breath is hot against the curve as he breathes, “Are you going to be a good girl for me and give me my present?”

You nod, voice struggling to manifest when he nibbles on the shell of your ear, and you’re just able to force out a squeaky, “Yes, highness,”

He kisses you again, this time a little harder, a little more needy. His free hand moves to brush the soft material of the shirt to the side, revealing one of your breasts to his hungry gaze and brushing his thumb over your hard nipple, before pulling back and biting his bottom lip with a wicked smirk. 

“Undress me then,”

His long fingers tease along the sensitive skin of your thigh as you work carefully on undoing the clasps of his shirt. Your delicate hands push the material off of his broad shoulders, revealing the toned expanse of his chest and your eyes can’t help the way they zero in on the excited rise and fall of his chest and the muscles that shift under his skin. The necklace around his neck shifts in time with his breaths, the small thin golden band he had made for you years ago threaded through the chain lays next to his heart - exactly where it should be, he tells you, until he’s able to put it on your finger officially. 

The metal glistens in the low light of the room, contrasting beautifully against his dark skin, but your eyes are pulled away from the sight when his hand cups your jaw again.

“Going a bit slow, aren’t we?” He chuckles, lips brushing against yours with each word. “You know it’s not fair to tease the birthday boy.”

His hands grip yours, warm palms dragging your own across the strong muscles of his chest and down the flat planes of his stomach until they reach the waistband of his pants. He keeps one of your hands there, and your fingertips gently caress the skin just above the fabric. He guides your other hand down further until you’re cupping his bulge, feeling the thick hardness in your hand.

“Feel how hard I am for you?” He murmurs, hand tightening around yours to make your fingers curl around him through the taut material. “Need you so much.”

“I’ll take good care of you,” You promise. 

Your hands expertly work at the fastenings on his trousers, his length jumping out and slapping against his belly, long and thick and beautiful in its glory. His cock is familiar to you - intimately familiar in the way that every part of your body knows the shape and size of it by memory. Every ridge, vein, and curve - engraved in your brain and heart.

He prefers to fuck you. Is obsessed with the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around his cock like a warm hug he never wants to be released from. He loves to feel the way your pussy clenches around his length, wants to feel your nails raking across his back as he ruts into you, hear your pretty mewls when he pounds your cervix before he floods your insides with his release.

He wants you on your back, or on your stomach, or on your side - it doesn’t matter. He wants you anyway he can have you, just as long as it’s you with him, crying his name as you cream all over his cock.

And he’ll get that. Soon. But for now, he wants this. 

He kicks his pants off, suddenly impatient as he stares down at you. He pulls you towards him, catching you off guard with the force of his tug as he sits on the chaise at the foot of his bed, and you fall onto his lap with a shocked yelp.

“Teyam!” You gasp, and his nickname falls from your lips without you even catching it. 

“Be a good girl and give me what I want, okay?” He grunts, ripping the silk shirt from your body and leaving you entirely bare to his hungry gaze, save for the boots still hugging your legs. “On your knees. Now.”

You rush to comply - the firm, authoritative timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine as you slide off of his lap and onto the floor. Neteyam leans back against his bed, the weight of his body supported on his forearms as his upper half lounges against the soft covers. His thighs are spread wide to accommodate your position between them and his cock pulses at the view.

It’s not a new sight, but it’s still his favorite sight.

You on your knees, staring up at him with those eyes, batting your long lashes at him with a combined look of shy maiden and sex vixen that makes him want to slide his hand in your hair and push your face into the ground so he can bury himself inside you from behind until the sounds you're making match the expression on your face. But no - he has a plan. He made you promise to give him whatever he wanted for his birthday, and he wants this.

“Come on, y/n,” He says, and he’s trying to be calm, trying to stay the golden, level headed prince that he should be, but even he can hear the whine in his voice. “Put them on me. Want to feel them,”

His breath feels like it's stuck in his lungs when you kneel up, hands cupping the sides of your chest as you lean closer and closer to his throbbing erection. His shirt and boots are not the only thing he’s put you in tonight. The fine jewelry of intricately made necklaces and rings he’s received throughout the day also adorn your perfect body. Three very expensive necklaces of varying lengths hang from your delicate neck, the regal blue stone on the longest one hanging beautifully just above the valley of your breasts. 

The feel of your tits enveloping his length has him reeling, the soft pillowy mounds molding around his cock like they were made to cradle him between them. Your hands hold your breasts together tightly around him, the rings on your fingers shining in the light are a variety of mixed metals and glittering jewels, and he decides then and there that he never wants to wear them himself. He only ever wants to see the beautiful jewels on you. 

It’s good, so good - the feel of your breasts massaging his heated length. But he needs more. 

“Spit on it,” He groans, and it’s taking all he has to not just fuck up into the tight space. There’s already a wet line along the opening of the valley from his precum and he’s obsessed with the way your wet skin glistens in the low light of the room. “Spit on it, y/n. Get it all wet and slippery so I can fuck them.”

The sound that rips out of his throat when you do is almost a whimper. His cock twitches when you let the glob of saliva fall from your tongue and onto the flushed tip, the spit coating the head and running down the sides and into the warm and newly wet embrace of your breasts. 

You do it again, adding more wetness to the mix to help with the slide as you glide yourself up and down his shaft. Neteyam lets out a punched out moan, hands balling into fists next to him as his head tilts back in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed for just a second before his head snaps back up, intent on not missing a second of the breathtaking image in front of him. 

Your nipples are just peeking out from the cage of your fingers, two hard buds pointed tantalizingly between your pointer and middle fingers and he mourns the fact that he can’t both fuck your tits and suck on your nipples at the same time. His hips kick up, abs flexing as he rocks into the tight space, and the tip of his cock nudges the blue gem of the necklace with each thrust. 

“So good for me,” He moans, reaching out to run his thumb along your bottom lip. He lets out a shuddering breath when your tongue comes out to swipe against the pad of his thumb. “Yeah, do that. Put your tongue to good use,”

Neteyam’s eyes roll back into his head at the first feel of your tongue on his swollen tip. He rocks faster, hips now completely off the chaise as he fucks your tits with vigor, your tongue lolling out to lap against the head every time it reappears back through the cradle of your breasts. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” He grunts. “So perfect for me.” 

The sensation of his cock tapping against the wet muscle is driving him wild, and he can’t help but watch in wicked satisfaction as your own eyes hood in pleasure at the taste of his precum coating your tongue. He knows you, knows you better than anyone else ever will or ever could. He knows that if he were to sink his fingers between your thighs, you would be dripping for him. 

“You were made for me,” He breathes. He can feel his stomach tightening as his orgasm barrels closer and closer. “Made just for me. Mine. My good girl, my whore.”

You hum in agreement, nodding enthusiastically as your responding moan vibrates through your tongue and against his cock. But it’s not enough. He needs the words - needs to hear them confirmed in your sweet, soft voice. 

“Say it,” He demands. His mind is reeling, desperately trying to decide where he wants to cum. He wants to mark you everywhere - wants to cum on your pretty tits, paint them white with his release and watch as it drips down your gorgeous body. He wants to cum on your face, marking your beautiful features as his just so he can have an excuse to take you to the large tub across the room and wash your entire body clean, only to dirty you up again before you’ve even stepped out of it. He wants to lace his fingers in your hair and drag your head down, sheathing his cock in the warm embrace of your throat and mark you from the inside - it would be less messy, and you wouldn’t be able to wash it off afterwards. “Say it, y/n,”

“I’m yours,” You whisper, thighs unconsciously trying to rub together as you desperately try to keep up your pace and the pressure of your chest against his length. “Your whore,”

“F-fuck!” Neteyam whimpers. “Fuck, fuck,”

In the end, he chooses your tits. He stands abruptly, nudging you back slightly so he can stand properly in front of you and finishes himself off, fisting himself furiously as you gaze up at him with those innocent eyes of yours that just make him want to wreck you even more. He cums with a guttural groan, ropes of white shooting from his swollen tip and landing directly on your heaving breasts.

You look stunning - like a beautiful, fucked out goddess brought to Earth just for him to have and cherish. His cock twitches in interest as he continues to stare at you, and your hooded eyes look up at your Prince in awe.

If you thought you were getting any kind of a break, you were wrong.

**Special thanks to @neteyamsyawntu for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx @skywonder @neteyamswillow

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 5

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

AN: This definitely should've been two parts...

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA, blood, Rhys is sweet but oblivious, autumn court men are pigs, SMUT (mwhahaha),

Word Count: 9,218 (I don't wanna talk about it)

For about the hundredth time that evening I had given myself the once over. The afternoon had been spent with handmaidens all over me, styling my hair, lining my eyes in kohl, polishing my nails in Autumn Court red, shining the diamond necklace given to me by Eris, and making sure I lived up to my name. 

I was surprised by how simple the dress was that was chosen for me. The handmaidens said they wanted to let my natural beauty show, as well as my new collar, I mean necklace. I ran my hands over the large, freshly polished gems. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get used to the weight of it. 

I made my way to the foyer where I knew my brother and his Inner Circle would be waiting. Anxiety filled my chest. Tonight I would be dancing and mingling with hundreds of people, but I only cared about one. The man Azriel was currently nudging with his elbow to get him to turn around. 

Cassian was lethal in fighting leathers and he was deadly in his most casual clothes, but the jacket and pants he wore tonight? It was a miracle I was still standing upright. 

His eyes shot to me and his mouth parted slightly, sucking in a breath. Those eyes, those hazel eyes, how they burned a hole right through my soul. Right through the gown and the jewels and straight into the heart of me. Cassian looked at me the way every female dreamed of being looked at. 

“You look amazing sister,” Rhysand said, pulling my attention from Cassian. 

I turned to where my brother stood with Mor, who was clad in her usual jaw dropping red. I hadn’t seen my brother in so long. With the war getting closer and things with Eris getting more intense I hadn’t seen him since that initial day at the Autumn Court four weeks ago. While I missed his face, it reminded me of the sacrifices he made for me, and reminded me why marrying Eris was so important. 

“You clean up pretty good too, Rhys,” I smiled, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“I have something for you,” Rhys grinned, waving a hand in the air to pull a dazzling tiara seemingly from mid air. “I went into the vaults and grabbed this. It was mother’s, and I thought you might like to wear it.” 

The tiara was beautiful and the moment it appeared in his hand I recognized it. It was one of our mothers favorites, made to look like a crown of shooting stars flying across her head like a halo. I had forgotten how magnificently she used to dress everyday. 

“Oh Rhys,”  I cried, throwing my arms around him while tears welled up in my eyes. 

“I know, I miss her too,” he murmured into my shoulder. 

“Help me put it on?” I ask him, pulling away and wiping my tears. 

“Of course,” he smiled with his own eyes glassed over. He bent down slightly to place the tiara on my head before standing back to admire it. “She would’ve been so proud of you.” 

“I think she would’ve been proud of both of us,” I beam at him, rubbing circles over the tops of his hands. “Now enough with the nostalgia, I’m going to cry off all my makeup. Let’s go party.” I laugh off my tears. 

“Yeah c’mon Rhys you’re going to make us all sad drunks,” Mor said, clasping her hand in Cassian’s and winnowing them out. 

Rhys held my fingers tight as he winnowed us along with her and Azriel was moments behind us. The second that the smell of damp leaves and woodsmoke filled my senses I felt a shudder run down my spine. I told myself that tonight with Eris would be different, but if the last time he had too much wine was any indication of how this evening would go…

The ballroom was filled with members of every court as my brother led me into the large space,  Cassian’s looming presence flanking my right side. It was impressive to see all the different types, colors and textures of clothing. It would make a lovely and chaotic painting if anyone ever had the will to commission it. Of course, Night Court black stood out like a sore thumb, but I certainly didn’t mind. It’s not like my brother and I weren’t the center of attention everywhere we went anyways. I looked to Rhys to find his eyes rapidly scanning the sea of people and I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.   

“She isn’t here brother,” I said quietly into his ear. 

“Who isn’t here?” he asked, trying to play the fool. 

“The cursebreaker you’ve been searching the crowd for,” I laugh. “I asked Eris if she would be in attendance and he said that Tamlin and her had not replied to his invitation.” 

“You asked Eris for me?” Rhys said, finally turning his head to me in surprise. 

“Well I didn’t tell him why I wanted to know whether or not they were attending. I just asked casually. I secretly hoped you’d get to see her,” I smiled. 

“You’re a wonderful little sister, you know that?” Rhys smiled, pressing a kiss to my cheek. 

“Yeah yeah you big softie,” I laughed, nudging his shoulder. From the corner of my eye I could see Eris making his way through the crowd with two glasses of wine in hand. 

“Rhysand, princess, we’re overjoyed that you could make it.” Eris smiled that conniving smile. “For you my little flame,” he said, handing me a goblet of wine and pressing a quick kiss to my lips.  

“We’re happy to have been invited,” Rhysand smiles and I swear I hear two females faint somewhere in the room. 

“Walk with me darling?” Eris says, extending an arm to me. I take it but not before glancing to my right once to see the worry in Cassian’s eyes.

As we pace around the border of the room I see why Eris chose to promenade first and dance later. It felt like every single eye in the room followed the same pattern. First they widened at the sight of me, then they flicked over to Eris, down to our linked arms and finally back to me once again. Their stares were stifling, I hadn’t been around this many people since under the mountain. 

Eris didn’t want to promenade first to finish our drinks, oh no. He wanted everyone in this godsforsaken room to see that the Jewel belonged to him. The smirk on his face was a dead give away. 

“You look ravishing tonight little flame,” Eris whispered into my ear, his breath hot in my neck. “That's why they’re all staring.”

“Don’t worry I’m used to the staring,” I replied truthfully trying to avoid all the eyes on me. 

“I’m sure you are,” he chuckled. “Stay used to it pet, I have every intention of parading you around all night. Let them stare all they want. It’s only a problem if they touch.” 

His words sent ice through my veins. It didn’t matter how many cruel or shocking things Eris said to me. Each and every time they cut like knives, taking a little piece of me with them that I would never get back. 

“Is that the Jewel?” crooned a too familiar voice. I turned my head to find Helion standing in all his glory, a friendly smile plastered on his face. 

“Helion!” I smiled, embracing him warmly. It had been too long since I felt the warmth of my friend's gaze. 

“My dear you look exquisite as always,” he smiled, twirling me around so he could see all of me. “Your brother keeps you on too short a leash, I haven’t seen you since, well, since we were under the mountain.” 

Eris’ body tightened next to me as he slid a hand possessively around the small of my waist, pulling me into his side, “Indeed, Helion, but rest assured, she's in good hands now. And her leash is exactly where it needs to be.” His words carried a veiled threat. 

“That’s right,” Helion smiled, ever the charmer.  “I heard that Rhysand had finally given her away. Congratulations to the both of you.” 

“Oh we aren’t engaged yet, just courting.” I smile nervously, placing my hand on Eris' chest in an attempt to keep him from blowing his top off. 

“Yes just courting, for now,” he smirked, nuzzling my neck. 

My body might’ve been wrapped around Eris like a lovesick fool, but I let my eyes convey the truth to my friend. Helion looked at me with a sad remorse and I knew then and there that he had put the pieces together. 

“I’ll leave you two love birds be,” he said trying to hide his disdain. “I think I hear Thessan calling me.”

We bid our goodbyes and I slammed what was left of my wine and placed it on the side table of the chaise next to us. 

“I didn’t think I’d have to share tonight,” Eris rolled his eyes, continuing our walk around the perimeter. 

“You can’t court the Jewel and get upset that everyone else wants to as well,” I scoff at his insolence. 

“I am going to be High Lord, I can do whatever I want,” Eris seethes, stopping our stride and pulling my arm towards him so that I slam into his chest. 

“Eris stop you’re making a scene,” I say tightly trying to pull my wrist from his grasp. 

“Good, that's exactly what I want – to cause a scene. Let them look,” he growls, hurling his lips towards mine. His kiss is anything but polite and High Lord-ly and from the strong taste of wine and whiskey on his lips I underestimated how drunk he already was. Behind me I could faintly hear gasps of the people around us, no doubt bearing witness to the very public display of power he was putting on.  

He pulls his lips from mine and stares at me with a predatory gaze and as both our chests heave, “Now that’s better,” he smirks. 

I resist the urge to wipe my mouth off as I pluck another glass of wine from a silver tray and down it. Gods this night was just getting started and it already couldn’t get any worse. 

“I want to dance,” I say abruptly to Eris. If we dance there’s a chance that someone might cut in and save me for at least a minute or two. 

“Fine, let’s go.” Eris grumbles downing his wine as well. 

He leads me out onto the dance floor and the crowd of dancers parts for us.  For what specific reason? I can’t name why. Maybe it’s to get a good look at me, or maybe it’s because Eris is truly that terrifying. Either way I can’t help but feel like I’ve been placed in a glass box and suspended where the crystal chandelier is in the middle of the room. 

Eris leads me into a dance and I don’t miss how tight his grip is on my waist, practically warning off anyone who might try and whisk me away from him. There goes that wonderful plan. 

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Eris complimented me and I noticed him trying to seem more sober. 

“Thank you, my father taught me when I was a little girl,” I replied looking around the room. 

From the second I had stepped onto the floor I could feel that searing gaze that took me apart bit by bit following me throughout my waltz. Finally I saw Cassian at the edge of the room with Azriel. Both of them leaning against the edge of the wall, wings tight on their bodies to keep people from brushing into them. Azriel whispered something into Cassian’s ear that had him downing his drink. 

“I wish you could see the looks of envy around the room,” Eris said low into my ear, his voice carrying an undertone of possessiveness. “Envy of what I have. Envy of what they'll never possess. You've been this mythical thing for so long, and now you're utterly tangible, and more importantly, you're mine.”

“I’m not yours yet, Eris. You would do well to remember that.” I utter to him trying my best to keep my voice even. 

Before he can even have a chance to lash out at me, a throat clears next to us halting our movements. I turn my gaze from Eris' fiery gaze and find Cassian standing before us and I curse my heart from nearly leaping out of my chest at the way he’s staring Eris down, like he heard every word he said. 

“Princess, would you honor me with a dance?” Cassian said, his usual tone of confidence laced with uncertainty. 

“I would love to Cassian,” I smile, feeling my cheeks blush.

“Over my dead body would she dance with the likes of you,” Eris simmers, pulling me closer to him. His grip on my arm was like a brand. 

“No, you don’t get to speak for her,” Cassian growls, grasping the hand Eris has on me.

“Eris this isn’t very High Lord-ish behavior,” I grumbled under my breath feeling even more eyes find our little disagreement. 

“He’s a bastard pet, he would soil you.” Eris replies, trying his best to show his restraint as he and Cassian engage in the biggest staredown this court has ever seen. 

“Yes, a bastard with nothing to lose and a dance with the Jewel to gain. Remember what I said about that arm Prince Eris? It would be a pity if you couldn’t hunt next season,” Cassain said back, his words a not so veiled threat. 

“One dance,” Eris chides. “Then I want her returned to me.” He dips a hand under my chin to place a kiss on  my lips, no doubt trying to antagonize Cassian further. 

If Cassian is provoked by the gesture he doesn’t show it. He simply sweeps me up into a dance the second the next song starts. His arms around me contrast the feeling of Eris so well. They’re warm and strong compared to Eris, who has a touch so cold it could freeze over hell. I take a deep breath to ground myself, Cassian’s scent of cedar and leather fills my senses and puts me at ease. 

“I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble,” he said and I could tell he meant it. He probably assumed that Eris would behave more accordingly in such a public setting. 

“No you actually saved me,” I laughed, falling easily into step with him. 

“You look beautiful tonight, I don’t think I got a chance to tell you that earlier,” Cassian said tightly, like the words might hurt him. The tension in the air following what happened with Eris still thick.  

“No I don’t think you did,” I replied and mentally cursed myself at how dumb it sounded. I get compliments all the time, and I always respond with grace and poise like I was taught. But something about Cassian takes away every piece of training away from me, for a moment I’m just a regular person. 

“Then I’m a fool and I should’ve said it sooner,” he replied, spinning me out and pulling me back in. I was surprised by how well he moved on the dance floor. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” I smile and his eyes that were previously on his feet now meet mine. 

“I can’t. I had Mor teach me this one so I could dance with you at least once tonight. That’s why I’ve been so short with you, I’m counting my steps,” Cassian laughs, blush tinting his cheeks. “Once this song is over Az is going to cut in so I don’t have to face the embarrassment of trying to dance to whatever they play next.”

It takes me a minute to process all that he’s said, and as I’m trying to read his face to see if he’s telling the truth or not I can see his lips twitching as he counts his steps in his head. A smile breaks across my lips and I can’t help but laugh. 

“Oh Cassian,” I giggle, pressing my forehead into his shoulder. His arms immediately pull me close and I relish the feeling. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. Thank you.” 

“Of course, anything for you princess,” he smiles and for a moment I’m transported back into that dark hallway. I suddenly become all too aware of our joined hands, his hand on my waist flexing like he’s scared to have it there. 

“You’re actually a really wonderful dancer,” I laugh trying to keep myself from throwing myself at him. 

Cassian’s mouth turns up to the side as his eyes burn into mine, “one, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.” he counts. I let out another laugh as we continue to spin around the room, he even throws in a lift every now and then when he forgets the steps. 

The song is over all too soon and within seconds of the last note being played Azriel steps in with a gracious bow. 

“Princess,” the shadowsinger greets me.

“Azriel,” I curtsey. 

“Thanks brother,” Cassian smiles, clapping Azriel on the back before heading out.

“Don’t mention it,” Az nods, taking me in his arms and beginning to waltz me around. “Did he tell you?” 

“Yes he did,” I laugh remembering the blush that covered his cheeks when he did. Never in my life did I think I would see my general, The Lord of Bloodshed, blush. “Have you been practicing with Mor too?” I raise an eyebrow. 

“No actually,” Azriel says, spinning me around in a circle. “Dancing has always come quite naturally to me.”

“Well I’d even dare to say that you’re a better dance partner than Eris,” I smile as Azriel dips me with the grace that only a warrior could possess. 

“Speaking of Eris, I saw what happened. Are you okay?” Azriel asks quietly, pulling me closer so that no one can hear us. 

“As okay as I can be. Gods everything about this room is stifling.” I roll my eyes. 

“Would you like to get some air outside?” he asks me and I nod. 

Azriel leads me out to the terrace at the back of the ballroom. When we get there I expect to see at least one couple sticking their tongues down each other's throats. But when the chill night air hits my bare skin it’s easy to see why we’re the only ones out here. I lean my back against the railing as Azriel closes the wooden doors behind us, the sound of the symphony and chattering people becoming muffled. 

Az pulls a corked bottle of wine out from behind his back with a cheeky grin, “You looked like you might need this.” he says pulling out the cork with a pop.  

“You’re a literal savior Az,” I smile, taking the bottle from him and putting it to my lips. It was the same wine I complimented Beron on and it slid down all too easy.  

Azriel leans against the banister with me as we look out over the Autumn Court. Darkness envelops the land  so that the only thing to be seen are a few fae lights and of course, the stars. I smile at the sky for a moment. No matter where I go or whom I marry, night will always follow me, and there’s a comfort there. 

“So you’re really going through with this?” Azriel croons, his voice laced only with curiosity. 

“I am,” I nod, swigging from the bottle again. “Eris is a viper, but he has something we need. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my people and my family safe.” 

“You deserve to marry for love y/n. You deserve to be happy too. You think that Rhys is the only one who made sacrifices for you and our court but you went under that mountain too.” he points out using that big brother tone he loves to use so much. 

“Saving my court will make me happy.” 

“But is marrying Eris what you truly want?” he asks honestly, trying to get to the root of things. So I let him have it.

“Gods no Az. Look at me. Eris has already made me his little pet with this ridiculous necklace. I  don’t think I could ever love Eris or be truly happy with him. But he’s been very clear about me bearing him many children, maybe I’ll find my happiness in them,” I rant, chugging more wine trying to drown out the sound of the voices in my head. 

“What about Cassian?” Azriel asks and my heart nearly stops. I don’t even let myself breathe for a moment. 

“What about him, Azriel?” I sigh, turning around and pressing my back to the bannister so that I could see the wooden doors that lead back to the viper den of aristocrats.   

“You obviously have feelings for him,” Azriel scoffs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What makes you say that?” I laugh. Azriel is dangerously close to covering the truth, one I haven’t had the guts to admit to myself. Because saying the words out loud? They would crumble the very foundations I stand upon, and then what would be left? 

“Because I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“And how do I look at him? Huh?” I try to keep the fierce facade. 

“You look at him the same way every man, woman, and child looks at you.” Azriel blurts out, his voice laced with frustration. “Hell even I used to look at you that way till I realized I couldn’t hold a candle to the way you look at Cassian.” 

I crumble. Every thought I have falls apart at Azriel making such a statement because I know it’s true. But to acknowledge it, or even worse, to act on it? How selfish of a person would that make me? To turn my back on my brother who saved me under the mountain. To possibly deny him the chance to be with his mate, the cursebreaker, because he dies in battle. To risk Azriel’s life because he has to be on the front lines. To risk the lives of every man, woman and child in my court. 

I had thought about it, gods I had. Especially at night, when I woke from my nightmares of being under the mountain. Or when I dreamt of that small female puppy in Eris’ kennels. It would’ve been so easy for me to walk into Cassian’s room just one door down and ask him to hold me. Oh gods I wanted him to hold me. But it couldn’t be and that killed me. 

“You’re bold shadowsinger,” I gritted my teeth, sipping the last of the wine. “I’ll give you that. But if you’ll excuse me, Eris is probably looking for me.”  

I shove the empty bottle of wine into his chest and thrust open the doors. I hear him call out for me clearly feeling bad about what he had said, but I don’t turn back. Tears prick my cheeks and I know that if I face Azriel once more and show him the truth I’ll fall apart completely. 

My eyes scan the crowd for Eris, and admittedly Cassain. The latter is nowhere to be seen, but eventually I find Eris lounging on a chaise with a few of his friends, all of them clad in Autumn Court attire laughing boisterously. I walk over to him dodging everyone in front of me, wine clouding my mind. 

“There she is,” Eris slurs, the wine from 4his glass nearly spilling out as he sits it on an end table. “Come here my pet,” he smirks, pulling me down to sit on his lap. 

I grab the wine he set down and sip from it as I take in the men around us. At first glance I can tell they are all pompous assholes by the way they rake their gaze down my body. One even has the nerve to cock his eyebrow at me and my head turns to Eris to avoid his gaze.  

“Isn’t she exquisite gentlemen?” Eris asks, nuzzling my neck. 

A collective murmur of agreement falls upon the small group.

 “The Jewel of Prythian,” Eris says, kissing my neck and I try to squirm out of his grasp but he only pulls me closer to him. 

“I’ll say!” one of the men cheer causing the whole group to chuckle. 

Eris’ mouth falls from my neck to my collar bone, “Have I told you yet tonight that this corset is doing wonders for your perfect tits pet?” he murmurs licking a long stripe up the side of my neck earning a round of tantalizing ‘ohhhs’ from his friends. At this rate I’m surprised they all haven’t whipped their cocks to enjoy the show Eris was so happily putting on. 

“He’s not wrong,” says another man and I feel Eris smirk against the tops of my breasts. He’s enjoying the game of dangling me in front of his friends. A forbidden fruit only he can indulge in. 

“I wonder how many males have fucked those tits,” crooned another bringing laughter to the forefront once more. 

Eris laughs, “She’s completely untouched,” he smirks into my skin. “I’ll be the first.”

The men utter how impressed they are. Some mention how jealous they are. My heart rate quickens knowing that I couldn’t have walked into a worse situation.

“Eris,” I hiss quietly, my eyes scanning the room for Cassian but he’s nowhere to be seen still. I even look for Azriel or my brother, but the room is so packed full of people I can’t make anyone out. 

“You know I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Eris croons and I know that tone, the one that means something terrible is about to happen. “When you said I don’t own you yet?” 

“Eris stop you’re drunk,” I say low as I try to wiggle out of his grasp but it only instigates him more. 

“Well the idea that you weren’t truly mine yet based on a technicality didn’t sit right with me little flame,” he started, blatantly ignoring my protests. “So while I let you dance with your filthy dog I ran downstairs to the vault.” 

No, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. 

“And I grabbed this,” he says, pulling out a ring so large I was surprised he was able to keep it hidden. Eris grabbed my left hand with unnecessary force and slid the thing on my ring finger. The weight of it nearly made me hurl. “Now you are mine. I’ve lived up to my end of the bargain, it’s been a month of courting and I’ve decided you will make a very obedient and agreeable wife.” 

“And don’t forget fuckable!” the first man who spoke cheered. 

“Yes, I’ll enjoy ruining you, my pet,” Eris smirks, kissing me softly. 

“Hell yeah we need an heir!” 

These men know no morals, no shame, no compassion. If my brother heard a fraction of what they were saying…Yes, my brother. Gods he probably heard so much worse with Amarantha.

“I can promise you all that an heir will be in her belly within a month,” Eris announced to his cadre, earning cheers from them all as they drank from their cups.  

I knew it was coming. I think in my heart I always did. From the moment I met Eris he had never once given me any indication that he wouldn’t marry me. Hell even if he hated me it was evident that he had every intention of marrying me just so he could say he deflowered and owned the Jewel of Prythian. I knew all of this and yet I still felt blindsided. 

“What do you say pet? Shall we start trying now?” Eris croons, earning another rally from his companions. 

“Eris that’s enough,” I grunt, pushing him off for good this time. The men around us laugh at my reluctance as I stand to my feet. 

“You little!” Eris seethe standing up right after me and gripping my arm.

“Bend her over your knee and spank her Eris!” drunkenly laughed a man. 

“You touch me right now and our marriage will be void by the laws of your court!” I growl, reminding him. 

“I am the High Lord, I'll change them myself!” he growls at me. 

“Not yet you aren’t,” I scorn him, nothing short of murder in my eyes. “I will see you in three days time to begin planning the wedding. I expect you to be sober and act with the morals befitting of a future High Lord.”

I free my arm from his grasp, leaving him to contend with the embarrassment of failing to control his future wife in front of his companions. I rip off the engagement ring and pocket it, unable to stand the weight of it. My eyes dart around for Cassian and when I don’t find him I grab a bottle of wine from one of the unattended tables. I make my way to the front door, choosing to walk all the way back to the Night Court if necessary. As I reach for the door it’s pulled back by the other side revealing a very disheveled Cassian.

“There you are, I was looking for you,” I grumble, still agitated from Eris’ antics.

“You look upset, what happened?” he slurs slightly. 

“Are you drunk?” I ask tapping my foot in the still half open doorway. 

“Yes, but you didn’t answer my question, what the hell happened?” Cassian grumbled straightening up and pushing the fog from his brain. 

“Eris happened,” I complained, gesturing to where he sat laughing with his companions again. “He was just showing me off and talking about making an heir and all that shit. It doesn’t matter. I stole some wine, let's go.” I huff starting to move past him. 

“No that’s it, I’m going to fucking kill him.” Cassian seethes and begins to move past me, but I place a hand on him stopping him.

“No stop,” I protest standing in front of him, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Eris. “I’ve had enough drama for one night. Please just take me home.” 

Cassian doesn’t take his gaze off the future High Lord, his breathing picking up, the siphons he had on his hands glowing. 

“Cassian,” I whisper, his name for only him to hear. His gaze falls to mine and softens. “Take me home.” I plead. 

 His eyes go soft at my pleas and I see him come back to earth, “Let’s go,” he says leading me out the door. 

We step out into the night air and waltz down the steps. Each and every step that we take pulls me further away from that cursed room, and as the sound of music and chatter get even further away I start to feel myself relax more. Cassian’s presence is like an anchor that keeps my feet on the ground. I am  comfortable. I am safe.

 We reach the bottom of the long stairway, and Cassian stops in his tracks. I turn to find him looking a little shocked, like he just remembered something. 

“What is it?” I ask taking a step towards him. 

“I uh,” he stumbles over his words. “I got you something.”

 He turns around to a large potted plant at the base of the long steps leading up to the ballroom. His large form bends down to pick up something that’s behind it and when he emerges once more he holds a puppy in his arms. I can’t help but gasp as the puppy wiggles to life, looking comically small in the Illyrians arms. I set down the stolen bottle of wine so that I can see her.

“I might’ve gotten a little drunk and broken into Eris’ kennels to get her,” he laughs passing her into my arms. “You just loved her so much and you kept talking about her and… I just couldn’t leave her.” 

The puppy wiggled in my arms licking my face like she had remembered me from our first meeting. I know I would know her face and markings anywhere. 

“Oh Cassian you have no idea how much this means to me,” I beam tears gracing my eyes. 

“I figured we could find her a better home, somewhere she will be loved,” Cassain smiled.

It that moment I don’t think I could’ve ever loved him more. I looked up to see him watching the puppy wiggling in my arms. Everything about him was so beautiful, from his sharp jawline to the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of his low bun. I couldn’t help myself. I stood on my tip toes and pressed a loving kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you Cassain,” I smile at him as I watch that blush return to his cheeks.

“Anything for you princess,” he reminds me. “Now we really have to get going before someone figures out I stole that thing.” Cassian laughs picking up the bottle of wine and then me. 

We take off into the air and I can’t help but let out a laugh at how ridiculous this all looks. A general, his princess, a stolen puppy and a stolen bottle of wine making a beeline for the Night Court. 

Cassian and I land on the terrace of the House of Wind in a fit of laughter recalling stories of his and my brother's adolescent lives.  

“I couldn’t help myself, he was some prick in his new training clothes and I was a kid with nothing. He deserved to get a little beat up!” Cassian laughed, the most real one I had ever heard from him. 

“He probably deserved it. Rhys is terrible at first impressions,” I giggle thinking of how haughty my young brother used to be. 

Cassian opens the door to the kitchen and living room letting us both in. The house is dark save for a few fae lights over the kitchen island. I wasn’t sure where the shadowsinger was, but whatever lady he was entertaining was certainly a lucky one. The puppy had fallen asleep in my arms on the flight home, so I set her adorable self down on one of the many plush couches. The entire time I felt Cassian’s eyes watching me intensely. 

“My buzz is starting to wear off,” I smile, turning from the pup and walking past Cassian and into the kitchen. “Let’s have a nightcap before we go to bed.”

I pull out my brothers expensive whiskey and a couple of glasses. I wait for Cassian to say something, anything, but he stays silent. The only indication that he’s still there are the raised hairs on my neck indicating that he’s watching the back of my head as I start to pour myself a glass. 

“Single or double?” I ask him, my hands holding his glass and the decanter of whiskey. 

I wait for a response, but the silence that seeps from him fills the room with an unexplainable tension. I’m suddenly all too aware of the lack of heat in the room as the hair on my arms rises and oh gods I can feel him. His presence behind me.

The sound of cool, calculated and slow footsteps echo off the walls of the room and suddenly he’s there behind me. His heat radiates towards me and I don’t dare turn around. His fingertips graze the backs of my elbows, letting me know he’s there. 

“Y/n,” his voice is like a prayer as his hands dance around the backs of my arms. My breath hitches at the utterance of my name, he never calls me by my name and the sound of it on his lips makes my toes curl.

I  slowly turn from the kitchen island and I’m met with a wall of pure muscle. I crane my head up to meet his intense gaze, and his eyes say everything. They pierce right through me. I rest my hands on his forearms letting the feel of the fabric over them ground me but it doesn’t help. He’s too close, and he’s too warm and he’s everything. 

“Cassian,” I whisper for only him to hear. 

I press a hand to his chest feeling his heartbeat beneath his shirt finding that it’s beating just as wildly as mine. My eyes meet his again and there’s a pleading there, like he might be suffering and I’m the only one who can end it. 

“Kiss me,” I breathe. 

His hand sweeps under my chin pulling his lips on mine and I suddenly realize why the romance novels I’ve read describe it as earth shattering. Cassian’s hands fall to my waist and I feel like I’m on fire everywhere his body meets mine. His lips feel like heaven against my own, nothing like the way  Eris kisses me. No, Cassian kisses me like he might love me. My hands grip his shirt and pull him closer. 

I feel his fingers slide down my waist and beneath my thighs. He hoists me up, dress skirts and all, onto the counter and I suddenly have much better access to him. His mouth wanders down my neck leaving wet kisses all over me. I place a hand behind me to get more support and the empty whiskey glass shatters on the tile floor. 

The large necklace Eris gave me gets in the way of his kisses and I feel my blood boil for a moment. How could I belong to Eris when Cassian kisses me like this?  When he holds me like I’m his everything? 

I capture my lips in Cassian’s once more pulling him away from my neck. His mouth is warm and soft on mine. My fingers find the front of the ridiculous necklace and I tear it off, the sound of the clasp breaking reverberating through the house. Cassian growls and presses his hips further between my legs, my hand slaps on the granite counter for support, the gems of the necklace clattering with it. I release it so that my hands can fly to the buttons on his shirt. The growl that had come from his lips had changed something in me. I needed him now, and I needed all of him. 

“Cassian,” I pleaded. The name rolls off my tongue with such ease. His hands roam my body and all I can think about is how I need more. More, more, more, more.

I get the top half of his shirt unbuttoned and I let my fingers roam the bare skin that lies there. He’s warm against my chilled hands, and as my fingertips brush over a long scar I can’t help but want to feel all of him. Know all of him. 

“Stop, stop,” Cassian mutters, taking my hands in his and pulling them away from his chest. 

My mind immediately starts to panic as he backs away from me. What have I done? I’ve ruined everything. I try to meet Cassian’s eyes from a few feet away but he won’t look at me. Instead he looks at his hands, like they’re covered in blood. 

“I can’t. I can’t do this,” he mutters still out of breath. 

My heart shatters. I had dreamed of kissing Cassian, of having him hold me like he was just seconds ago. Never did any of those dreams end the way this one is now. 

“Cassian I-” 

“I’m not worthy,” he breathes, never taking his eyes off his hands. “I’m not worthy of you.” 

My already shattered heart shatters again. 

I slide off the counter taking slow steps towards him waiting for him to flinch or move away but he doesn’t. I reach him placing a hand on the cheek feeling the stubble there, and despite his words I swore he leaned into my touch ever so slightly. My thumb caresses  his face, begging his eyes to meet  mine and they do. In that beautiful shade of hazel there’s a sorrow by likes of which I’ve never seen. 

“Then show me every part of you that feels unworthy of my love and let me kiss it until it knows nothing but it,” I say to him, praying he hears every single word. His eyes soften. 

“Y/n,” he breathes pulling my lips to his once more and I swear right then and there that I’d do anything that man asked me if he just said my name like that again.  

My arms wrap around his neck pulling him down towards where I stand on my tiptoes to reach him. Somehow this kiss is more passionate, on both ends as I try to live up to what I’ve told him. His hands hoisted me up again, even though the skirt of my dress was debilitating. 

I feel myself being carried down the hall into a room I realize is his from this scent enveloping me from every angle. He sets me down gently, like I might break and kicks the door behind him closed. My hands find the last buttons on his skirt and I get them off with ease, my next course of action has me reaching around my back to tug at the strings of the corseted dress. I get the tie undone, but the rest is tricky. 

“Wait, stop,” Cassian orders, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “Are you sure you want this? Because once I start I won’t be able to stop.”

“I want this, I want all of you Cassian.” I nod still breathless and his eyes search mine for any hint of a lie. “Please,” I beg and I watch all resolve fall from his face. 

“Fuck y/n,” he moans before pressing his lips to mine.  

My hands find the bare muscles of his chest, and try to commit every line and scar to memory. I run my hands all over him, the warmth and feel of him addicting. My fingers fall lower over his abs and I swear I melt at the years of building muscle there. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You can’t touch me like that.” he growls using his hands on my hips to spin me around so my back is flush to him. 

His lips find my neck and I swear I could fall apart just by the way his mouth feels on my skin. I feel the laces on my dress get looser and looser as his fingers work them apart behind me. The second the top one is loose enough the weight of the skirt pulls the top down leaving me completely bare. My breath hitches as I feel his calloused fingers gently coaxing me to turn around and face him. The second I do my cheeks flush and I fight the urge to cover myself. 

“You’re so beautiful. I wish I knew a better way to say it than that. You are-” he loses his words, pulling me closer so my breasts are pressed to the bare skin of his chest. The feeling is euphoric. “You are everything.” he says, and it feels more like a confession. 

He leans in to kiss me once more but I press my hand to his cheek to stop him, “Cassian,” I breathe and I feel his breath hitch at the way I say his name. “I love you.” the phrase echoes through the room. 

I feel his body tense pulling me impossibly close. “Now I’m never letting you go,” he mutters, pressing his lips to mine in a fiery need.

His hands hoist me up and I wrap my arms around his shoulders for support. My aching core brushes against his abs and it takes all my self control not to shift my hips to get more friction there. He lays me gently on his bed, and I feel my back sink into his mountains of pillows. His clothed hips settle between mine and he pulls his head back to look at me. 

“I’ve loved you ever since I met you. We had just barely become adults and I walked into the townhouse for the first time and saw you reading a book by the fire and I knew,” he confessed. “I knew I loved you before I even knew your name.” 

I couldn’t stop the rogue tear that slipped from my eye at his confession. Cassian’s lips kissed the drop away before pressing his lips to mine once more. My hands threaded to his hair as he made his way down my neck leaving a trail of fire everywhere his lips brushed. 

“Can I touch you?” Cassian breathed against the valley between my breasts. 

“Yes,” I hiss needing him everywhere. 

His lips attach themselves to the aching bud of my breast, pulling it taut. I gasp, arching my back off the bed watching him roll my nipple in his mouth. His other hand reaches to twist my other breast and I swear I’ve never felt so good in my life. My hands find his long hair and tug on it, earning a groan from him that sends vibrations through me. He switches to the other side giving it the same treatment and oh gods, this man would certainly be the death of me. His lips come off my breast with a pop as he takes in the sight of me. 

“You’re perfect,” he says, pressing a kiss between my breasts once more. 

“I want you inside me,” I groan, pressing my hips into him. 

“No I’ll hurt you,” he grits, feeling my arousal press against him as he leaves kisses on my stomach. 

“Cassian please,” I cry, tears threatening to fall from the sheer need I have for him. His eyes meet mine and I know I have him right where I want him. 

“It’s going to hurt y/n,” he tells me. 

“I don’t care,” I say, leaning up a bit to cup his face bringing his lips to mine in a quick kiss. “When I said I want all of you Cassian I meant it. You said you’d do anything for me.” 

“Fuck y/n, okay but I’m going to get you ready first,” he groans and before he can pull away I press a kiss to his forehead. 

His lips trail down my stomach once more until he gets to where I need him most. He skips over my core to leave kisses on the inside of my thighs. My body goes limp and I fall into the pillows again craning my neck to see him. A hand slides up my thigh and runs through my folds causing me to arch my back. 

“You’re so wet,” he grits out feeling the pool of arousal between my legs. 

“Cass please,” I whine, arching my hips to his mouth. 

I watch his eyes flair at the nickname and within moments his mouth is on me licking a stripe up my core that has me letting out an unnatural sound of pleasure. His tongue swirls around my entrance before licking another long stripe through my folds once more, flicking his tongue at the top. He attacks an area between my legs that has me arching off the bed and seeing stars. Surely there could be no better pleasure in the world than this. I let out a guttural moan that has Cassian smirking from where he feasts on me, his eyes lighting up in male pride. 

“Oh gods Cassian! How are you-ah!” I cry out feeling tears prick my eyes from the waves of euphoria gliding through my body, like every nerve was being caressed by his hands all at once.  

“It’s your clit y/n,” Cassian smirks. “Surely all those naughty romance books taught you about your own anatomy?”  he teases rubbing circles on the bud with his fingers. 

“No I think they- Ah! They might’ve glazed over that part.” I cry out trying to keep my  back from arching off the bed. 

“Then allow me to enlighten you,” he grinned before feasting on me once more. 

The feeling of his mouth on me had me reaching for something to grasp onto, something to ground me. Cassian must’ve noticed as seconds later I felt his rough hand grasp mine holding it tightly. His other drifted from my hip and I felt him sink a long finger into me slowly but surely. The new sensation had my heartrate picking  up even more. It skyrocketed as he started pumping it in and out of me until he added another. The knot in my stomach started to build and I could feel my body pulling closer to the edge. 

“Cassian I’m going to- OH GODS!” 

I didn’t even have time to finish the sentence before I was falling over the edge, all over him. He rode me through my orgasm before pressing a kiss to my clit. 

“You taste fucking amazing,” he says, voice deep and husky. If he had spoken to me like that in a setting where my clothes weren’t already on his bedroom floor I would’ve ripped them off just the same.

“I do?” I laugh, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah you do,” he smiles moving up towards me. “Come here,” he says, pressing his lips to mine. 

I savor the taste of him and well, me. It’s new, and I can tell by the way his hand is ripping down his pants that he finds it just as arousing as I do. I glance down to where his aching cock springs free and it takes everything in me not to gasp at the size of it. His hand tilts my chin up to press another quick kiss to my lips. 

“Forget what I said earlier. The second you want to stop, just say the word.” he tells me. 

“No, I want this. I want you to be my first,” I assure him and I swear I feel his cock twitch against my thigh at my words. 

“Okay I’m gonna put it in, if it hurts just tell me okay princess?” he says, pressing a kiss to my brow. I nearly shudder at him calling me princess again, but this time it’s different, it doesn’t feel like a title, it feels like a loving name. 

“I will,” I nod to him. 

I watch as he guides his cock to my entrance, getting it slick with the aftermath of the orgasm he just pulled from me. I feel him sink in a bit and I start to feel the stretch. I focus my eyes on Cassain’s face. His brow is furrowed as he watches himself start to sink into me.  He pushes in further and the stretch starts to burn causing me to take in a sharp breath. 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re doing so good.”

“Keep going Cass,” I breathe out as tears prick my eyes. 

He pushes in further and somehow even the pain feels good, because it’s him. Every single inch of him is flush to me and it still isn’t enough. It takes a moment but eventually his hips are brushing up to mine and he’s fully seated inside me, and gods, the feeling of being so full is the best feeling I’ve ever known. 

CASSIAN’S POV: 

As my cock finally sinks into her it takes everything in me not to pull out and slam back in. I curse myself for even thinking such a thought knowing how badly I would hurt her. 

All the while I give her time to adjust her pussy flexes and clenches around my cock and godsshe’s so fucking tight. Sweat coats my brow and my muscles quake with the need to start moving but I won’t do it until she asks me. 

“Okay move Cass, I’m ready,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my lips. 

Cass

Gods hearing her speak to me so informally shouldn’t make my heart beat so fast but it does.

 I pull out a little before slowly pushing back in, relishing the feeling of how warm she is around me. I look down at her to look for any signs of discomfort on her face. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly open, and the little pants falling from those perfect lips are enough to send me into a coma. I begin to build a steady pace once I feel she can take it and as I do those little pants turn into cries and I swear I could cum right there. 

“Fuck you’re so tight,” I groan into her neck.

She lets out another moan and I can’t help but smirk knowing what my words do to her. My eyes glance at her face as I fuck into her. Her hair sprawled out all over the pillows, her eyes closed, the look of pure pleasure on her face. I press my lips to hers unable to stop myself, not when I’ve dreamt of doing so for so long. 

Fuck how many times have I dreamt of her writhing in pleasure beneath me? The feel of her delicate hands wandering my skin? My name falling from those perfect lips? I couldn’t stop the words from falling from my mouth.

“Gods I love you so much y/n,” I say pressing my forehead to hers. 

“I love you too Cassian,” she breathes and I watch as another tear falls from her face. I bring my lips down to kiss it away, and in that moment I vow that I’ll kiss her tears away till they bury me in the ground. 

Her pussy clenches around me again as I thrust into her and I can tell by the way her finger nails are digging into my shoulders that she’s close. 

“Let go for me princess,” I murmur through ragged breaths pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“CASSIAN!” she screams cumming all over my cock. 

It’s enough to drive me over the edge with her, “Fuck y/n,” I moan as I thrust into her one last time watching her beautiful face come undone for me before I cum inside her. 

Snap. 

My eyes go wide and I’m thankful that she’s still too blissed out to notice as I feel that thread inside me that connects me to her. 

Mate.

All this time, she was my mate. The reason I fell in love with her the moment I saw her, the reason I couldn’t stay away from her. The princess was my mate. Her words from earlier continued to echo through my head…

Show me every part of you that feels unworthy of my love and let me kiss it until it knows nothing but it…

I searched her face for any sign that she felt the bond snap too, but all I saw was her beaming up at me. Gods she was so beautiful. My mate was so beautiful. 

I reached for the other end of that shining golden thread and found nothing there. 

She didn’t know.

Part 6

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts, @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @dissociated-always, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter One - Mr Bridgerton

♡♡♡

A day late. No matter. At least you would be in London for the season, though you wouldn't be able to debut properly, much like the other ladies of the season.

It mattered not to you. You would rather keep to yourself than be shown off to the Queen in a satin gown, announcing to the ton you were eligible.

If you were to find a husband, it would be on your own terms. You swore by that. You would play the game much like all the others, but without shouting about it and making a statement.

Yes, you intended to marry. Perhaps not this year, but soon enough. It had been something you had thought about a great deal over the winter. Still, you'll see what the ton has to offer this year.

Though you were not there, you had received word that a Miss Daphne Bridgerton had been called a diamond of the first water by Last Whistledown in her gossip column.

Everyone was talking about it.

Bridgerton was a name you had heard but not quite familiar with on any personal terms. They were known for being beautiful. Handsome sons and beautiful daughters. Dowager Violet Bridgerton was very proud of her children, even when they vexed her sometimes.

But that was all you knew. It did not surprise you that her daughter would have the eyes of the ton on her. She would find herself a wonderful match, surely.

You sit at your vanity table and watch the reflection of your dear mother in the mirror as she enters the room. She saunters in and places your gown delicately on the bed. She then turns so elegantly toward you and smiles, coming to stand beside you. Her hand settles on your shoulder.

"You will look beautiful, dear."

You only smile softly and look at your reflection. You have no intention of standing out at all. You would go in, make yourself acquainted, and perhaps dance with a few friendly faces.

Within the hour, you were dressed and decorated with pretty jewels and accessories. Your mother owned a fine collection of jewellery, some of the few things she still had from the old house. Since the passing of your father, your belongings had shrunk as you moved around the country.

"Thank you, Mama." You touch the necklace with your gloved fingers gently, admiring the way it glittered in the light.

Before you knew it, you were on your way to the ball. Lady Danbury, a well-known figure in the ton, was hosting. Apparently, it was going to be quite the night. Your mother was most excited to see you dance tonight.

That is, should anyone take a liking to dancing with you.

The ballroom was well lit and full of colourful gowns and sparkly necks. Fans fluttered softly, barely brushing the chins of the beautiful ladies present. Gentleman circled the room looking for a partner to either dance or converse with.

You mother gave your arm a squeeze as she smiled, looking around the room.

"You shall find a man in this room, I am certain of it."

"Mother..." You sigh. You knew you weren't getting any younger, but you still had time to find someone for yourself. You did not want to feel the pressure of society weighing down on you because you were looking for someone suitable.

Love matches were rare, and you doubted you would ever be so lucky to have such a connection with someone. Your mother had not been in love with your father when they married, nor up until his death.

Love was rare indeed.

You scan the room, watching people dance, other converse, some take a turn around the room. There was much activity. All debutantes were here looking for a match.

"That young gentleman over there, I believe that's Colin Bridgerton. Mrs Brooks told me of that family in quite some detail." Your mother says. "Handsome, is he not?"

You hum softly as you continue looking about the room. A young woman in a bright yellow gown seems to be watching Colin Bridgerton with interest.

People star to turn toward the entrance. You move your head in the same direction to find three beautiful people entering the room.

"Ah, that there is Anthony Bridgerton, the eldest of eight. On his arm, I believe that is Daphne Bridgerton, and that's their mother, Violet Bridgerton." Your mother harpers on.

There is no denying the beauty that family holds. Each one is utterly perfect. They all look so like, yet differ in the most wonderful ways. You wonder what it would be like to have so many siblings, or any at all, for that matter.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yes," you agree. Daphne was quite the sight. "She shall have no issue finding a husband, I am certain."

Your mother squeezes your arm. "Nor shall you."

You find it less likely than Daphne, but you will humour your mother for her own sake.

One such young man approaches Daphne, but after a short conversation with her brother, he scampers. You wonder what was said to leave a man looking so dejected. Surely she hadn't rejected him so easily. You begin to wonder if Daphne will have any ease at all.

You watch Anthony escort his sister around the room and decide you might do the same. No one was particularly paying you any mind anyway. You free yourself from your mother's hold and begins to drifting away from her side. She watches you go, sighing softly.

You stroll slowly along the sidelines, eyes fluttering from one couple to the next. A large group was already dancing. Everyone looked so dignified and elegant.

Not a single person was sparing you a glance. You almost expected as much. It was hard to stand out in a room full of such lovely people. You continued to watch other dance as you strolled.

With Daphne in Anthony's care, Violet Bridgerton felt she needed to take this chance to push one of her other sons in the direction of some of the fine ladies.

Colin was already out dancing.

Benedict was in her line of sight.

With a smile on her face, she began to approach her second eldest son. Benedict had been talking to Lady Danbury. However, when he caught sight of his mother coming over, he panicked. He bid a quick and barely audible farewell and hurried off into the crowds.

Violet came to stop beside Lady Danbury, knowing full well she wasn't going to chase her son down. The two ladies chuckled softly.

Not knowing his mother had decided to just let him go, Benedict fled further into the room. He was determined to put space between himself and his mother. He was so busy checking behind him, be wasn't paying attention to anyone in front of him.

It happened quite suddenly.

Benedict collided with someone. He moved so quickly, grabbing onto the other person and spinning them around to slow down his momentum and prevent them from falling over. He looked down and found himself looking into a pretty pair of eyes.

"I am sorry." You say, looking up at him. It clicks instantly that he's a Bridgerton. He looks like his brothers.

"No, no. Allow me to apologise. I wasn't looking," he says.

Benedict takes a moment to realise his hands are settled on your upper arms. He drops them instantly and takes a step back. No one seemed to take much notice, but he spotted a couple of people turning his way. People always notice his family.

You look at him silently for a moment. You feel awkward, not knowing what else to say.

"Well, good night," you curtsy and try to walk away, but he stops you rather quickly.

"Wait."

You turn back to him.

"Dance with me?" He asks suddenly. He can see his mother amongst the other faces in the crowd. She's looking for him, he is certain of it.

"Oh, um. Very well." You're caught off guard by his sudden invitation.

You take his hand and allow him to guide you to where the others are dancing. You get into position and begin. Benedict doesn't say anything for a while. He is keeping his gaze locked on the crowd. You break the silence between you by giving him your name. Benedict snaps out of his daze and looks at you.

"Oh, right. Yes. I'm Benedict. Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton." He gives a little smile.

"I've seen your other siblings here tonight."

"Yes. My sister is debuting." His eyes flicker back up to the crowd. Violet has spotted him she looks ecstatic. Benedict wonders if that's better or worse.

"She's breathtaking."

He looks at you again. "Yes. I suppose she is."

You get the idea that he isn't much in the mood for talking, and you keep quiet for the rest of the dance. When the music comes to a close, you curtsy, and he bows. The next piece begins to play.

"Well, thank you," you say softly.

Benedict snaps back into focus and looks at you. He takes your dance card and writes his name on it before excusing himself. You watch him go and sigh. You look at the card and see his neat penmanship.

"Benedict Bridgerton. Who would have thought." You mutter to yourself.

You leave the floor.

Your mother comes over quickly and snakes her arm around yours again. She looks delighted.

"You danced with a Bridgerton! That will certainly gain some attention for you." She sounded far too happy for your liking.

"Yes, I suppose it might."

As she begins to yap on in your ear, you turn in time to see Anthony and Daphne speaking to their mother. After a moment, they leave the ball altogether.

You wished you could do the same.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 -

[notjustjavierpena]

Perfect

A/N: This is completely self-indulgent. The first part of dark and twisted sugar daddy Joel. Beware of the tags. This is NOT okay behavior. 

Summary: Joel Miller, a walking menace, buys you pretty things in exchange for shoving his cock in you. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dub-con, painful and rough sex, p in v sex, degradation, abusive behavior, creampie, dirty talk, dacryphilia, no aftercare, sugar daddy, daddy kink

Word count: 1.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49786882

Perfect

You stand in front of the full-body mirror to hold up a pair of golden earrings to your ears, catching the way the beautiful droplet-shaped diamonds hanging from the bottom reflect in the chandelier’s light. You crinkle your nose immediately, snobbishly, and put them down in their designated spot in your vanity’s drawer.  

You’ve acquired a particular taste for pretty things over the last few months. The people at the reception he is taking you to would probably fawn over the price of the earrings that you have just discarded but when money isn’t worth worrying about, all the pairs in your collection become a matter of taste instead of flash. 

You settle on a simple pair of small, thick gold hoops. They fit the blood-red dress perfectly, which you smooth out with your manicured hands to erase any flaw that he doesn’t deserve. Not when he has been so good to you, and saved you from being a victim to everyday tedious work and boredom. 

The hoops dangle slightly as you move to sit in front of the vanity. They are only a few weeks old and handmade by a goldsmith that had been recommended to you. The man, old and experienced, had created them from nothing right before your eyes, and whilst they had only been one out of many extravagant gifts during the short trip to France, they had stuck out the most and have since become your favorites. 

“I was hopin’ you would choose those tonight,” Joel’s voice suddenly washes over your unsuspecting form. You jump slightly but accept every crash like they are heaven. You find his eyes in the mirror, smile softly at him but he seems too busy weighing his words to smile back. 

He strides across the carpeted floor and you can hear that he has yet to put on shoes. Soon, you feel his calloused hands rest on your bare shoulders, thumbs starting to rub circles into your skin whilst you try concentrating on putting on lipstick. His hands are warm and rough, palms belonging to someone who is hardworking and respected. 

“I got ya something,” he adds after a moment of admiring the sight of you getting ready. You turn your head to look up at him with doe-eyes but he cups your chin to turn your face back to the mirror, “Close your eyes.”

You do as you are told, placing your hands in your lap like an obedient thing. Your hearing works overtime when you hear shuffling behind you, Joel digging into his pocket and fumbling with something for a moment.

An impatient noise leaves you. 

“Don’t look or ya won’t get it,” he warns softly. 

You gasp as metal hits your skin, and you immediately know that it is a necklace. You open your eyes to watch it hang around your neck in the mirror, a hand coming up to touch it. It feels warm from having been in Joel’s hand, and when your eyes drop to look at it properly, you smile shyly. It is absolutely breathtaking. 

“It’s beautiful,” you study its small gold links and the gold cylinder that lays right over your jugular notch. It is so simple and elegant, “Thank you, Joel.”

“I need you to be perfect tonight,” he tells you instead of saying that you are welcome. The necklace comes with an expectation then. 

“You just worry about the other guests, and I’ll worry about looking beautiful,” you joke and go back to fixing your red lipstick with a Q-tip. 

“Is this a joke to you?” Joel asks, voice harsh out of nowhere. 

Your heart jumps in your chest, “What? No.”

“Then why are you actin’ like it?” His nostrils flare. 

“I wasn’t—“

“Shut up.”

His large palm settles between your shoulder blades and then he roughly pushes you forward. Your elbows bang into the surface of your vanity, head nearly knocking into the mirror at the surprise of his shove. It almost feels like it already has with the way your head swims. 

He goes rougher in his push and everything on top comes tumbling down; makeup brushes, a tray of nail polish, jewelry boxes, and even an expensive new bottle of perfume that luckily doesn’t break because it is saved by the soft carpet.

Your hands scramble for something to hold onto. Joel lets out a condescending laugh behind you, but he doesn’t give you time to regain your composure. 

He kicks the vanity chair out from underneath you which tumbles to the side, and your knees hit the floor as a result. It causes you to sob but instead of cussing him out, you stay silent and thank God that your chosen dress will be able to cover the bruises that will appear soon. 

“I was just finishing getting ready,” you try to make him show mercy the second he hauls you up to stand on your feet. He holds you against the table with his iron grip and when he puts one foot between yours, you can feel his hardening cock press into the back of your thigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“I said shut the fuck up,” he growls, free hand sliding around the front of your throat to cup your chin once again. He yanks your head upwards so he can look at you in the mirror as he speaks, “If you’re gonna misbehave, you fuckin’ take what I give ya instead of givin’ me excuses.”

You don’t try to argue that you had meant nothing by your comment. Whatever Joel says is what goes when he is angry, and at this point of your interaction you know better than to take his words as anything else but gospel. The game is over for you, and it was long before he even entered the bedroom. It’s been over since he fucked your lights out the first time. 

“No!” You squeak as the stitching of your dress rips when Joel’s hand curls around the hem to pull it up your thighs. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that it was tailored to you just days ago, ruining it without batting his eyes. 

The hand on your chin comes up to cover your mouth. You whimper pathetically into his palm, shaking your head as he tauntingly tears the seams of your dress even more. 

Finally, he settles it around your shaking hips. You are wet already due to the power, the carelessness, the harsh nature of his every move. He sighs in annoyance at the sight of your garter belt, “You make things so fuckin’ difficult f’me.”

A finger curls around your lace panties, and he tugs until they also come apart under his touch. You had wanted to give him a show when you had gotten home later, but he is spoiling the surprise with every passing second. Spoiling it by destroying it. 

“Please, Joel,” you say but it is muffled into his hand. 

“The more ya struggle, the less I’ll care,” he says simply and you still in his grip. When he is satisfied with his work on your clothes, removing any barrier that’ll separate his cock from your cunt, he moves to undo his belt and zipper. A grunt leaves his lips as the cool air of the room hits the sensitive skin of his dick. 

He shoves inside of you without warning with an animalistic sound. It stings painfully as he forces your walls to adjust to him, but you soothe yourself by biting down on the flesh of his palm. He responds by digging his hand further into your mouth, forcing it open even more until your jaw strains. 

When he starts fucking you harshly, you know for a fact that by the end of this, you will have to start getting ready all over again. You cannot see the red lipstick in the mirror, but you know it is smeared since its taste mixes with the salt of Joel’s skin. Your eyes sting too, wet mascara dripping into them as you cry from the intensity of what is happening to your body. 

He knows you like it like this, you try to convince yourself, he’d never continue if you didn’t like it. 

“Don’t you ever have the audacity to talk back to me again,” he spits venomously, picking up his pace. The edge of the table gnaws into the front of your thighs, and he seems to keep going deeper despite kissing your cervix with every thrust, “That ain’t how this thing works. I don’t want to hear another disrespectful word comin’ out ya mouth when I pay you to be nothing outside of me. You are fuckin’ nothing.” 

Tears of frustration and grief fall from your eyes despite the growing pressure in your lower abdomen. A strong hand settles on your hips. Joel grinds his pelvis into you with a force that makes the table shake, a few other decoration pieces falling off. Your cunt throbs at the thought of him making it up to you by letting you choose new pretty items to replace the broken ones. You push back into him.

“Hah, you dumb slut,” he taunts, landing a painful slap on the curve of your ass. You clench around him at the impact and he nearly becomes unable to finish his sentence, “You love Daddy’s cock that much when it makes you cry?” 

You nod frantically. 

“That’s right,” he says over your shoulder, “Good girl takin’ me every way I want.”

His own moans start to interrupt his speech. He grows more silent, more concentrated on fucking you open until you might collapse. 

You can barely stand anymore, but he shifts to hold your hips with both his hands. As the hand leaves your mouth, you realize how vocal you have become because your screams bounce off the walls and come back at you with a mocking undertone. Look at what he has reduced you to. You are sure the staff can hear you too. Any newcomers will be in the middle of getting talked out of calling the police right now. 

Your every muscle aches by now. He has you on your tippy toes with how hard he goes, and your body cannot fight it anymore. The coil in your belly is just about to snap. 

“I’m gonna— gonna come, Daddy.”

“I knew you would, baby, my perfect girl,” he praises to the point where your stomach swirls with excitement and joy. He lets you come without being mean to you, watching your thighs as they shake and your eyes as they weep fresh tears from relief.

Your fluttering cunt sends him over the edge too. He speaks filthy nonsense, pulsating inside of you until you feel his load spill down your folds from how much he fills you. He pants softly whilst you milk him, aggression seeping from him as he comes down from his high.

“Thank you,” you sob quietly, “Thank you, thank you.”

“Clean up this mess,” he orders after pulling out, one last stab at you, “Staff shouldn’t be responsible for your dirty doin’.”

You fall to your knees as he starts tucking himself back into his dress pants. Your cheek rests on the cool surface of the vanity, and you actively avoid the puddle of saliva you’ve created there. 

“We’re leaving in half an hour,” he says before leaving you to the sound of nothing but your heaving breaths and his come dripping from your cunt. 

Later, after choosing a dress that’s nowhere as beautiful as the red one, you notice a generous number has been inserted into your bank account. He scoffs a ‘perfect’ when you meet him in the garage.

.

.

.

TAGLIST: FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

[rummelesjewelers]

Different Types of Gold Necklaces You Can Vouch For

If you are looking to enhance your looks, you can accessorize yourself with the best Diamond Necklaces. You must know about different types of necklaces as they help you stay beautiful in every way.

[noforkingclue]

Hey there! I’m sorry to hear that your requests got deleted, but happy because I get to send another in (if that’s ok, of course) ☺️

I was wondering if you could do ‘back hugs and everything in between… ^ i'm talking the chin resting on the shoulder. trailing kisses from said shoulder allll the way to the back of their neck.’ with Tommy Shelby? The idea of it just makes me giddy!!

Thanks so much if you choose to! 🥰

Yeah, I'm still gutted that they all got deleted...

And please, feel free to send in as many requests as you want! I love receiving and writing them :D

I hope you enjoy the fic :D

Title: Diamonds

Prompt list: LINK

Peaky Blinds tag list: @stylesofloki,  @ohshititsfenharel,  lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife, @cillmequick, @polishcrazyone, @nataliewalker93, @galactict3a

Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, lyrxbz,  @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine, @neonpurplestars89-blog

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites spngingerbread21,  @layazul,  @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You adjusted the necklace and smiled at your reflection. You admired the necklace but the smile slowly slipped from your face. It truly was beautiful but you found yourself wondering if it really was for you. Were you the type of person to wear jewels like these? What did you do to deserve these?

“There you are. I was wondering where you were.”

You jumped at the sound of Tommy’s voice and looked at him in the mirror. He shut the door to your shared room and you reached behind you to take off the necklace.

“Just wondering which necklace to choose,” you said, “I don’t think this was it.”

Slowly Tommy approached you. He picked up the necklace and dangled it off of one finger.

“You should wear this one,” he said, “You looked beautiful in it.”

“You don’t think it’s too…” you trailed off and waved a hand, “flashy?”

“Hmm.”

Tommy tossed the necklace onto the dressing table as though it was worth nothing. You bit your lip as Tommy wrapped his arms around you and bent his head down. He pressed a kiss on your shoulder just at the junction of your neck.

“What’s wrong?” he asked

“Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He trailed kisses up your neck and you couldn’t help but squirm under his affection. You could see his smirk in the mirror and he pressed his lips against the back of your neck.

“I would like to hear the truth.” he said

“It’s just…”

“Yes?”

“What have I done for these,” you picked up the necklace again, “all these jewels.”

Tommy was silent. His blue eyes locking with yours in the reflection. Then he raised his hands and slowly trailing his fingers up and down your arms. You shuddered under the feather-light touch and Tommy shut his eyes and he pressed his forehead against the top of your head.

“Because I said so,” he said, “because you are my wife and you deserve everything.”

He raised his head and tilted yours back so you were looking at him directly. He brushed his thumb over your lips and pressed it against them. Instinctively you parted them and the corner of his lips twitched at the action. Then he let you go and took the necklace and clasped it around your neck. He lowered his head and rested it against your shoulder.

“We should go down to our guests,” he said, “unless you want them discussing where we are and what we are doing.  I’m sure John and Arthur will have plenty of theories to entertain them while we are missing.”

He pressed another kiss against your neck and you let out a soft moan and leant back into him. Tommy’s hands snaked down to your waist and circled around it. He kept you firmly locked against him and he continued to press soft, tempting kisses against your neck.

“You’re making me wish we did have to entertain.” you muttered softly

“There’s always later,” Tommy said, his eyes darkening with desire, “just you and me in the bed. And you wearing nothing but your,” he dragged a finger across the necklace, “diamonds.”

[iactuallydontlikestrawberries]

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN.

BlackCat!Reader x Miles Morales Summary; Miles is defintely gonna catch you this time, right? A/N; I loved Felicia and Peter so much, even more so in PS4 game. They have a little saying to??? "Quiet as cat, sneaky as spider" and I just watched spider-verse SOOO,.,,,,SDKNASDJHAUIO i love me some Criminal x Hero heheheheh ill probably make a part 2 of this soon maybe.... Not proofread.

“Catch me if you can, Spidey!” 

And the rivalry began, you always got away, always leaving with a devious smirk on your face as you left with Diamonds in hand and Miles wondering who was behind the domino mask you always wear. But tonight was different, he’s definitely gonna catch you this time — he’s maybe gonna catch you this time. 

He was invisible, sticking to the roof of the museum waiting for you. It’s not like he had a vendetta with you or anything, you were just any other criminal —  who flirted with him sometimes, and made him smile sometimes. Which totally didn’t lead to you getting away or anything. 

You finally entered the museum, dropping down from the skylight with a rope landing on the ground with a silent thud. Cats do have to be quiet don’t they? Your heels clicked on the ground, as you walked over to one of the displays containing a diamond necklace worth over at least fifty five million dollars. Your hands reached out to it, cutting the display glass with your claws making a perfect circle. Your corners of your mouth upturned, smiling as you reached the display with both of your hands almost reaching it. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Miles hanged from the ceiling with his web hanging upside down, finally revealing himself to you. 

“You were waiting for me?” You asked with a slight smirk on your face, looking up to him as you remove your hands from the display and cross your arms. 

“Well I figured a necklace like this would catch your eye,” 

“You know me so well spidey,” you replied smiling before, reaching back into the display to take the necklace for yourself. You put on the necklace, “Tell me spidey, does it look good on me?” you watch as he drops down from the ceiling, next to the display leaning on it crossing his arms and looking at you, “Everything looks good on you, but I thought cats liked fish more than diamonds?” he replied. 

Smiling, you take out your grappling hook from its holster. 

“Well a cat’s gotta pay off some debts, and diamonds fetch a real good price,” you point your grappling gun towards the skylight, quickly pulling the trigger you raise from the ground swinging up to the air almost to the exit before a web clings to your leg stopping you. 

“Y’know I’m gonna catch you right?” Miles said, holding the web with one hand, looking up at you. 

“You always let me go though,” You look down at him smirking, pulling a knife from your pocket severing the web letting you free. You pull yourself up, before looking down at him again blowing a kiss. 

“Not letting you go this time…” Miles mutters, swinging his way up there to catch you.

[simphornies]

A/N: I'm not feeling well. It's that time of the month and I am struggling. I apologize if this part isn't written as well as the others :(

Word count: 3.5k (3,595)

part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5, finale

Deal Breaker [ Vox x Angel!Reader ] part 3

Your first day working with the Vees consisted of you being in one of Velvette’s shows. You were shoved into multiple outfits that were definitely out of your comfort zone. Your wings were out the whole time and boosted the popularity. At the end of the show, Velvette was trying to get you to be one of her official models.

“Y/N! As much as I hate your alliances, I do love the energy you bring on the stage.” She flicks her hand to get you into a more formal attire for your stay. You matched Vox’s suit, color scheme and all. You were convinced it’s just a dress version of his outfit. You let out a relieved sigh, happy that you’re finally comfortable.

“Flattered at your offer however I have the hotel to tend to. I have not the time to spare to become a model for you. Apologies.” You politely declined making Velvette groan.

Vox walks up to you, his hands clapping at your performance. “What a wondrous performance! I see you wore the necklace I gifted you.” He grins, glancing at the shining piece of jewelry around your neck. It was a diamond studded eye necklace surrounded with 3 sets of wings, something that matched your usual outfit.

“Ah, yes. I do adore it. Thank you.” You smile, “I see you’re wearing the bow tie I’ve gifted you as well?”

He fiddled the bow in question with pride, “Proudly. It was given to me by you.” He takes your hand in his to kiss it, something that became a constant occurrence between you two. “Shall we meet in my office?”

You nod, following him, hand still in his. The time you’ve shared with him has gotten you quite accustomed to the demon. You started to feel warm but you fought against it. You promised Charlie and Alastor both that you would keep your guard up and stay safe. Vox’s intentions weren’t clear to you and you still couldn’t comprehend why he suddenly decided to strike a deal with you.

In his office, you sat across from him, legs crossed awaiting him to start. He was staring at you, eyeing you down so much so it made you a little nervous at what’s to come.

“Y/N. Before we continue…” He starts, “I want to inform you of something you did.”

Your head tilted to the side, “Yes…?”

“The night you got drunk, you started to strip in front of me.” He blankly states, doing his best to maintain his composure while you lost yours.

Your face flushed in embarrassment, turning red at his words. “I sincerely apologize! That was unbecoming of me.” You profusely apologized, “I may have forgotten to warn you and tell you exactly why I typically stick to just one bottle of my usual champagne.”

Vox just laughed in response, “My dear, no need to get so flustered. For your sake, I did ask for someone else to help dress you and left as soon as I saw the state you were in.” He raised his arms up in defense, “I didn’t push my chances and left immediately. I hardly looked.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, “Thank you. I truly apologize.”

“Now that that’s out of the way. Let’s circle back to our agreement from our first meeting. You said you will need 3 days to consider the offer. Have you chosen an answer?” The joy on his face was back to a serious one as soon as he asked.

You shake your head, “Unfortunately I have not decided. I struggle to understand your intentions.”

“What is it that makes you struggle? If I’m being completely transparent with you, you are a wonderful and beautiful angel. The 3 days we’ve spent together have been bliss. I would love to have you by my side, always.” He winks at you, “And I’d love to see you half naked again, but sober this time.”

The red creeped back up on your face. “Vox! That is inappropriate to say for this situation. We are discussing business.” You huffed.

“Ah but you are my business, dear.” He gets up and walks over to you, further teasing you by bringing his head up to your ear to whisper. “I absolutely want you.”

You get up quickly, taking a step back from him, absolutely unable to hide the fact that you’re flustered at his actions and words. “I am not well-versed in such things. I cannot provide you the companionship you seek.”

He took a step forward and held your hand, giving you a kiss on your knuckles. “I can show you how, my love.” His signature grin wide on his face, “C’mon baby~ Let me show you how fun it is with me by your side.”

If you were able to melt, you would have melted right then and there. You were a stuttering mess and Vox found entertainment and pleasure watching you be one. You pull your hand away from him and rush to the door.

“Pardon me! I must excuse myself!” You reach for the doorknob but Vox just zaps in front of you.

“Ah ah. Before you go, we’ll be going on a date in a little bit. I’ve already told Velvette to get you in the most gorgeous attire, paid for entirely by yours truly.” He opened the door for you to rush out and head towards your room.

As if on cue, Velvette swings your door open and drags you inside. She immediately swiped her hand to change your outfit into a gorgeous backless fitted dress that sparkled when the light hit it. A slit ran up your thigh and revealed a garter belt that went around it, bearing the VoxTek logo. The neckline plunged down to the middle of your chest. Your formal flat shoes were now black red bottomed heels.

“Alright now sit.” Velvette says, pulling out a chair for you. The speed of everything happening overwhelmed you to the point where you had to give yourself a second to react, “C’mon, I don’t have all day.”

You followed her instructions and sat down. She got to work on your hair quickly, giving you beautiful bouncy curls that rested perfectly on your shoulders. She even did your makeup for you. She worked quickly and quietly and by the end of it, she was grinning with pride from her work. “Perfect. You’re absolutely stunning. Now go. Shoo.”

You were kicked out of your own room with a gentle shove. You tripped over yourself and landed in Vox’s arms. You look up and see him giving you a wide-toothed grin, “You look absolutely beautiful~” He purred into your ear.

Your heart was pounding but so was Vox’s. He meant what he said. He was enamored by your looks and with you dressed up, he was even more attracted. He wants you but he doesn’t seem to know that the way he’s supposed to.

He showered you with gifts and jewels of all kinds. He put on the necklace he gave you around your neck and donned your fingers with expensive rings. He brought you to the most prestigious restaurant in all of Hell after he accessorized you and acted very gentlemanlike. You weren’t used to such things so this was all very new.

In Heaven, most interactions you’ve had with men were with Adam so being treated this nicely was a new thing for you. You remained flustered at everything that just happened. You swore your heart was going to jump out of your chest at the amount of attention he’s giving you. Back at the hotel you mainly stayed in your office to do paperwork and help around with cleanup which meant you lacked the social experience that most would have.

There was a singer performing for the restaurant’s customers that night and you distracted yourself by listening to her. It was Verosika Mayday, a famous popstar that you had heard of. Her voice was beautiful, her body and face matching. Vox watched as you relaxed in your seat, entranced by her voice. He made a mental note that you loved soft and slow music, which was exactly how Verosika’s current song was. He knew this because your eyes lit up the moment the piano slowed down.

After the show, he decided to introduce you to Verosika herself. Bringing him over to the table. You chatted with her about her talents and asked for tips on how she was able to have such a wide vocal range. It wasn’t long into the conversation until you were starting to get tipsy from the amount of alcohol you’d consumed.

Not wanting to repeat the events of the last time you got really drunk, Vox excused himself and led Verosika away, letting you know he’ll be back. He took Verosika backstage where Valentino awaited, somewhere private enough for him to talk to her and for her to not see Valentino. He put her in a trance with his eye and got her to sign a contract with Valentino stating that she will now take the place of Angel Dust. Valentino was more than happy to have the curvy, popular succubus popstar to be his and quickly decided to make her his new toy.

Vox worked fast to fulfill your wishes, swearing it was to steal your power when in reality he wanted to see your smile. When he came back to the table, you were getting ready to down an entire bottle of vodka to which he confiscated from your hands making you huff.

“Now now. I told you. Last time you got fucked up, you were stripping and I would rather not go through that again.” He had given the bottle he took from you back to a waiter. He lifted your chin with finger, looking deeply into your eyes. “Mm. You look wonderful with a blush across your face.”

He pulled away from you and held his hands behind his back, standing proudly. “I would like to inform you that the contract’s been broken.” He said with a wide smile. Your eyes sparkle with delight, quickly getting up.

“Is that the truth, Vox?” You ask, “Oh that is wonderful! Thank you!” You hugged him, your heart full of warmth and happiness. You felt his arms snake around you to hug you back.

“I told you, dollface.” He strokes your curled locks, playing with it in his hands, “I’ll do anything to keep you by my side.” He felt himself warm up at the feeling of you hugging him. The way your body fit perfectly against his in a hug was new territory. The scent of your perfume radiated gently, he felt your heart pounding as quickly as his own did. This felt new to him and it felt good.

Upon arriving back at Vox’s building, you walk with him, your hands wrapped around his arm. He walked you to your room and gave you yet another sweet kiss on your knuckles.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.” He winked at you before zapping off into his own room.

You closed the door and slid your back against it, sighing. You placed a hand on your chest and felt your heart going wild. You felt uncomfortably safe and secure around him and at this point it was hard for you to separate your emotions with business. He gave you attention you’ve never received and never realized you craved. His sweet words, his suggestive comments, his compliments echoed through your head. You began to fall for him.

.

In the morning, you met Vox in his office a bit too excited to see him but you maintain your composure. He sat at his desk, drinking coffee, the scent of which covered the room. He perked up at the sound of you entering his office. “Ah. Good morning, Y/N. Help yourself to some coffee.” He gestured to his coffee maker by the wall to which you gladly poured yourself a cup. “I have a full schedule today, I trust that you’re able to stay in the building until I return?”

“Return?” You cocked your head at him, “I am to stay here? Do you require me to do anything to assist you?” You couldn’t deny the fact that you felt a bit bummed out at the thought of him leaving but you quickly shook away that feeling.

“Yes you have to stay here, I’m afraid. I can’t waltz into my shows and interviews with you hanging off of me.” He laughed a bit, “We aren’t even together. I’ll only do that when you accept my courtship and let me make you mine. Why? You gonna miss me?”

You hid your blushing face behind your cup, “Nonsense. Just a thought is all. I seek not to ruin your day nor make them difficult with my presence. I am perfectly content staying here.” You weren’t content with staying. You didn’t understand it but you wanted to be by his side for your entire stay at his company.

His phone buzzes, making him get up. “Well, that’s my cue. I have to head out, angel.” He held his hand out for you to take. You expected him to give it a kiss but instead he led you to his chair. “You can stay here or in my room. Maybe watch me work my magic on television. I’ll be back.”

He left without giving you the usual kiss on the hand. It left you bothered. You felt…empty without it. It didn’t feel right. Though you didn’t say anything about it, it didn’t leave your mind. You aimlessly wandered around his office, looking at the photos he had laying around. You ended up in his room, laying on his bed watching his shows until he came in through the door.

“Ah! There you are.” He says, “Come Y/N. I have a gift for you.”

You got up and followed him out of the room. He took your hand as you walked behind him. He took you to the meeting room, the table filled with wrapped boxes. You were speechless. “Surely this isn’t all for me?” You ask him.

“But they are! I’ve gotten advice from Princess Morningstar to make sure I got you the best of the best. Open them!” He held his hands behind his back, eagerly waiting for you to start.

You unwrapped and opened one of the bigger boxes and in it there was a gorgeous black and red version of the outfit you’d normally wear at the hotel. You glanced at him to which he gave you a proud look. The bigger boxes contained clothing from loungewear to nightgowns to robes. You reach for a smaller box and open it. You pulled out gorgeous earrings, studded with diamonds of course. In the last couple of small boxes, they were all pieces of fine jewelry to match the earrings.

You beamed with delight and gave Vox a hug. “These are wonderful gifts Vox! You spoil me too much. You are not required to do so.”

“Nothing is too much for you, angel.” He kisses your hand, looking up at you with a flirty look, “I do want to win your heart after all.”

You blushed at his words, looking away in embarrassment. “I need not for such gestures.”

“You deserve more, darling.” He gets his butlers to bring your gifts to your room, “Are my attempts working?”

“You flatter me so, perhaps I am leaning towards accepting your deal.”

He walks you to your room and wishes you a good night. You felt your heart flutter a bit, sighing happily as you got ready for bed in the same nightgown he gifted you. You soon drifted off to sleep, happily cuddling up to your pillow.

.

You were ready to spend your second day with Vox but to your dismay, he was “too busy” to speak with you. Not wanting to push in case he was stressed, you kept your distance. It did bother you when you would see him having casual conversation with Valentino or Velvette and as soon as he saw you, he would make himself seem busier by checking his phone.

“Vox~ Your little angel has eyes on us.” Valentino speaks, soft enough for you to not hear. “I know that look she has in her eyes. She’s longing for you.”

Vox smiled, “I know. By the end of our agreement, she won’t want me to leave her side.” He laughs menacingly, “I’ll make her obsessed with me.” Vox glanced behind him, seeing you in the distance admiring the plants that decorated the building. For a second, he felt his heart twist at the sad expression you had on.

You glanced up at him, a bit shocked at him giving you attention. You gave him a smile and waved. He gestures for you to come closer and with no hesitation, you make your way towards him. As soon as you were in his reach, he pulled you closer by the waist causing your face to flush up in red.

“Sorry for ignoring you all day, dollface.” He grins, “Red looks nice on you.” His hand caresses your cheek and you quickly pull away, embarrassed.

You cleared your throat and composed yourself. “It’s alright. You’re a busy man.” But it wasn’t okay with you. You found yourself longing for his attention all day and though you found your sudden admiration for him strange, you couldn’t help yourself when it came to yearning for his gaze on yours. “Tomorrow’s my last day. I wanted to know what you have in store for me.”

He puts his hands together, “You and I, my dear, are going out! My treat.”

“Vox! Surely I can cover tomorrow. You’ve showered me with plenty of gifts already for the past couple of days.” You protested to which he grabs your hand, giving it yet another kiss.

“Like I said before. I am…” He moves closer to you, his head by your ear, “...absolutely in love with you.” He whispers. You shiver at his voice, losing your breath for a split second.

“If you must insist…I’ll allow myself to find comfort in your adorations.” You whispered back, trying your hardest to steady your breathing.

“I’ll meet you there tomorrow.” He sneaks a kiss on your shoulder before zapping away into a camera.

.

You were dressed by Velvette again for your date with him the following day. You wore an off shoulder dress with the jewelry he’s gifted you. You felt warm and excited for your date. The spot he told you to meet him at wasn’t too far from his building so you denied the ride there and chose to walk instead.

You took in some of the sights, admiring the bright neon lights that covered the streets that seeped into the dark alleyways in between buildings. As you were approaching the restaurant, you spotted something in the alleyway out of the corner of your eye that made you backtrack. Once your eyes adjusted to the darkness you see Vox on the floor with a bleeding wound.

You rushed to his side, a bit in panic. “Vox! Vox what happened to you?” You gently help him up. He coughs, breathing heavy. You begin to heal his wounds, light emitting from your hands as you did so. Your eyes wandered to his ripped clothes, it looked like claws had ripped them.

“Alastor…” He says weakly, “That damned radio demon was just here…” He glitched and held your hand weakly, “I’m sorry, Y/N. My blood…My blood got on your beautiful dress and hands.”

“Alastor…?” You were in disbelief, you didn’t want to believe him but the claw shaped scratches on him matched the shape of his when he’s in his demon form. “No…It can’t be.” You felt anger rising within you. You told him he wasn’t supposed to mess with Vox. Could he have really gone against your word?

As soon as you finish, he sits up. “If you hadn’t come in time…I don’t think he would have left.” You held his hand tight. He looked at you and felt guilty at how hurt you looked. Your eyes were filled with tears, “Oh…Please. Please don’t cry, angel.”

“You were hurt! If I’d gotten here sooner…” You shook your head, “I’m supposed to be here to protect but you got hurt.” Your heart was heavy with emotions. Anger for Alastor’s actions, fear for Vox’s safety and sadness for not being there for him sooner.

“I’m going to be okay, Y/N.” He smiled at you, “You’re here now.” He wiped the tears that ran down your face. “I’m going to have to put a hold on this date. I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense! Do not apologize, you were injured. Let’s return to your home, you need rest.”

You brought Vox back into his room, flying through the halls with him in your arms. He looked up at you, the determination and anger that you had in your eyes filled him with even more guilt. You set him down gently on his bed.

“I’m afraid I must leave now but please, if anything happens, call me with no hesitation.” You spoke softly, the smile that you always had on your face was gone and didn’t return. You rush to your room, collecting all of your belongings and create a portal directly back into the hotel. You were enraged with Alastor and you were absolutely determined to find him.

[sassyfrassboss]

So as a daughter of a former courtier, I have some information of such to share.

What Meghan Wants - this wasn’t just about the wedding, as when Harry proposed he proposed with a basic ring and Meghan wanted something more bling so to speak and alongside Harry, approached The Queen and basically demanded that she have the centre emerald of the choker necklace placed into a diamond pavé ring alongside two other large diamonds from the royal collection, which I’ve heard were from the Victorian or Georgian era.

When the Queen said no, Meghan got venomous and is the reason why the Queen said she was evil. When they couldn’t get any further, they apparently approached The Earl Spencer to have him hand over diamonds from the Spencer tiara to place into the tiara, to which he denied. This was among the reasons why he did not attend the christening, the wedding he did attend because of optics.

The hatred of Catherine links back to a time when Meghan got drunk while living in Kensington Palace’s cottage with Harry, and threw a large party that went on for hours. William was apparently away at the time and Catherine was pregnant with two young children living close by. Catherine went down to tell her to stop the partying and the loud music, and Meghan again got venomous towards her. And by venomous, I mean in her face, obscenities falling from her lips and insults right to Catherine’s face. Also Meghan did buy Catherine a set of stainless steel butcher knives and smirked that the blood wipes right off.

Meghan also hates Pippa, because she tried to worm her way into her friendship circle first through the Chelsea society circle but failed as Pippa is very closed off to outsiders and very protective. Harry has had a well known weird obsession over Pippa and Catherine for a long time.

Meghan is behind the Rose rumours, this is a fact known by the family and staff. This is another reason why most have frozen her out and it is indeed due to Rose and Harry being together, and him raving about how “fit” she was to everyone afterwards while Meghan didn’t get to attend.

Meghan didn’t believe Zara had miscarriages and this is a big reason for why Anne, Peter, Mike and Zara hate her guts. Basically what was said is that Meghan didn’t see how an Olympic standard equestrian could have two miscarriages one after another and maybe it was that that caused it.

The racism thing is a nothing burger. Basically Charles and Camilla alongside William and Catherine sat down with Harry, without Meghan there before they married but apparently engaged, and basically brought up about whether he’d be able to cope with racism in the media directed towards Meghan and their child, what I’ve heard is that those shotgun engagement rumours are indeed true. There was a lot of talk about a miscarriage, and it wasn’t about Catherine or anyone else in the family. Which is why his family brought it up, as they knew he wasn’t the strongest mentally or emotionally. But what also was brought up was Harry’s racism and whether he’d be able to handle a biracial child… he had commented on Senna and Tāne Lewis among others.

Eugenie’s engagement announcement and wedding were both pushed back to accommodate Meghan and Harry, and their wedding pushed forward. The Queen apparently wanted a toned down wedding because Meghan was a divorcee and she was pregnant out of wedlock, but then suddenly they were accommodating basically anything she wanted, to which I’ve heard is because she cried wolf over a miscarriage, saying they were the family she never had and really manipulating them as while the Queen and others were strong and smart in the institutional way, they are a soft and supportive family. But she did bring up nonstop questions about Philip’s Nazi in-laws which irked him, The Queen and others massively.

Meghan wanted the Vladimir tiara, but not how it usually looks - basically she wanted to take the emeralds out of it and place those emeralds into the Lovers Knot, which she was told no because it is on lifetime loan to Catherine and its current frame is fitted to her head shape.

That Givenchy anon that was going around? That is basically all true. Meghan hated Charlotte with a vengeance but also Mia Tindall and later Lena Tindall because she like Louis dared to be born in 2018. She hated family members bringing children to events or family gatherings.

Also Meghan kept calling Louis, Lewis instead of the Louey pronunciation because she was jealous of him. Apparently Louis was also the name that she (more so Harry) had approached the Queen and Philip about using for their unborn child.

Doria never got anything. She turned up a few days before the wedding and jetted out a few days later. Jessica Mulroney kept pestering the courtiers and royal staffers to which they ended up blocking her from further communication.

Nobody knew Meghan was pregnant when she announced in 2018 with Archie, everyone literally found out when she posted on the instagram account in the middle of the night in the UK but a good time in California. Nobody got to ask about medical provisions, as the staffers wanted to help arrange the appropriate procedures for her with the Queen’s medical team. But she didn’t take them up, and Harry didn’t know basic things about the pregnancy when asked by family and staff. There is a very very strong case for a surrogate being used, as it was noted that Meghan ate unsafe food, traveled to unsafe places, did unsafe activities, and got basic information wrong about pregnancy when asked like Harry.

Nobody has seen him or Lili, they were not in the UK for the jubilee or any other time. The Queen did not visit them at Frogmore Cottage.

Breaking this down:

So as a daughter of a former courtier, I have some information of such to share.

What Meghan Wants - this wasn’t just about the wedding, as when Harry proposed he proposed with a basic ring and Meghan wanted something more bling so to speak and alongside Harry, approached The Queen and basically demanded that she have the centre emerald of the choker necklace placed into a diamond pavé ring alongside two other large diamonds from the royal collection, which I’ve heard were from the Victorian or Georgian era.

-So around this time Meghan’s PR was insane. It was clear that she intended on making “emerald” her stone/color like Catherine had “sapphire.” At the time, her PR was claiming that the emerald stone was going to come from a necklace of Diana’s and that Harry was going to take diamonds from the famous sapphire chocker for the rest of the ring. The problem that I always had with this rumor was that the emerald Meghan wanted wasn’t really suited for a ring. Unless she wanted to have it recut.

When the Queen said no, Meghan got venomous and is the reason why the Queen said she was evil. When they couldn’t get any further, they apparently approached The Earl Spencer to have him hand over diamonds from the Spencer tiara to place into the tiara, to which he denied. This was among the reasons why he did not attend the christening, the wedding he did attend because of optics.

Rumor was that Meghan asked for the tiara for her wedding, hence why her veil was scalloped to resemble the tiara.

The hatred of Catherine links back to a time when Meghan got drunk while living in Kensington Palace’s cottage with Harry, and threw a large party that went on for hours. William was apparently away at the time and Catherine was pregnant with two young children living close by. Catherine went down to tell her to stop the partying and the loud music, and Meghan again got venomous towards her. And by venomous, I mean in her face, obscenities falling from her lips and insults right to Catherine’s face. Also Meghan did buy Catherine a set of stainless steel butcher knives and smirked that the blood wipes right off.

It was also said that the Gloucester’s complained as well. Loud drunken behavior and at one point there were fireworks. But it was more than one occasion. Apparently Meghan made some rude remark regarding them about how they needed to move and it got back to TQ who relayed to Meghan she needed to keep her mouth shut. This is also why William stopped any potential move by them into KP.

Meghan also hates Pippa, because she tried to worm her way into her friendship circle first through the Chelsea society circle but failed as Pippa is very closed off to outsiders and very protective. Harry has had a well known weird obsession over Pippa and Catherine for a long time.

I remember there being a rumor that Meghan tried to make friends with Pippa to actually turn Pippa against Catherine. I also remember Meghan putting out PR that she was super close with Pippa and it was causing issues because Pippa was taking her side against Catherine.

Meghan is behind the Rose rumours, this is a fact known by the family and staff. This is another reason why most have frozen her out and it is indeed due to Rose and Harry being together, and him raving about how “fit” she was to everyone afterwards while Meghan didn’t get to attend.

Amsterdam SOHO is where she spilled the rumor because some people were willing to out her for her “extra party activities” so she started the rumor.

Meghan didn’t believe Zara had miscarriages and this is a big reason for why Anne, Peter, Mike and Zara hate her guts. Basically what was said is that Meghan didn’t see how an Olympic standard equestrian could have two miscarriages one after another and maybe it was that that caused it.

Yeah, Meghan believes that she is the only one to have ever suffered from a miscarriage…

The racism thing is a nothing burger. Basically Charles and Camilla alongside William and Catherine sat down with Harry, without Meghan there before they married but apparently engaged, and basically brought up about whether he’d be able to cope with racism in the media directed towards Meghan and their child, what I’ve heard is that those shotgun engagement rumours are indeed true. There was a lot of talk about a miscarriage, and it wasn’t about Catherine or anyone else in the family. Which is why his family brought it up, as they knew he wasn’t the strongest mentally or emotionally. But what also was brought up was Harry’s racism and whether he’d be able to handle a biracial child… he had commented on Senna and Tāne Lewis among others.

He felt the conversation was awkward because he knew how much they all disliked Meghan and she knew it as well. So she twisted the conversation to suit her narrative.

Eugenie’s engagement announcement and wedding were both pushed back to accommodate Meghan and Harry, and their wedding pushed forward.

Stole her wedding date from what I heard. Also another rumor, Meghan was FURIOUS because she wanted the tiara, after she had been denied others, that Eugenie wore and her announcing her pregnancy was retaliation.

The Queen apparently wanted a toned down wedding because Meghan was a divorcee and she was pregnant out of wedlock, but then suddenly they were accommodating basically anything she wanted, to which I’ve heard is because she cried wolf over a miscarriage, saying they were the family she never had and really manipulating them as while the Queen and others were strong and smart in the institutional way, they are a soft and supportive family. But she did bring up nonstop questions about Philip’s Nazi in-laws which irked him, The Queen and others massively.

TQ really had an issue with the veil as well. I remember when it was said PP might not make the wedding because of health issues and I always wondered if he was going to use that as an excuse to stay home because he hated Meghan. He also retired when he knew Meghan was coming on board…which is very telling.

Meghan wanted the Vladimir tiara, but not how it usually looks - basically she wanted to take the emeralds out of it and place those emeralds into the Lovers Knot, which she was told no because it is on lifetime loan to Catherine and its current frame is fitted to her head shape.

It was the Vladimir and the Fife emerald tiara that was on display at the time at KP. At least that is my theory.

That Givenchy anon that was going around? That is basically all true. Meghan hated Charlotte with a vengeance but also Mia Tindall and later Lena Tindall because she like Louis dared to be born in 2018. She hated family members bringing children to events or family gatherings. Also Meghan kept calling Louis, Lewis instead of the Louey pronunciation because she was jealous of him. Apparently Louis was also the name that she (more so Harry) had approached the Queen and Philip about using for their unborn child.

Yeah I heard she was furious that W&C went for Louis because she had called dibs on the name prior to there even being a wedding, let alone a baby. She was also furious because she felt that Charlotte should not have been named after TQ and Diana.

Doria never got anything. She turned up a few days before the wedding and jetted out a few days later. Jessica Mulroney kept pestering the courtiers and royal staffers to which they ended up blocking her from further communication.

Doria was literally trotted out to remind people Meghan is bi-racial.

Nobody knew Meghan was pregnant when she announced in 2018 with Archie, everyone literally found out when she posted on the instagram account in the middle of the night in the UK but a good time in California. Nobody got to ask about medical provisions, as the staffers wanted to help arrange the appropriate procedures for her with the Queen’s medical team. But she didn’t take them up, and Harry didn’t know basic things about the pregnancy when asked by family and staff. There is a very very strong case for a surrogate being used, as it was noted that Meghan ate unsafe food, traveled to unsafe places, did unsafe activities, and got basic information wrong about pregnancy when asked like Harry.

Nobody has seen him or Lili, they were not in the UK for the jubilee or any other time. The Queen did not visit them at Frogmore Cottage.

So I did the math and according to Meghan’s timeline, she was still heavily drinking and partying around the time she became “pregnant” with Archie. There is a lot of questionable behaviors surrounding all of this. I did find it odd the left the “kids” at home for the 2022 Jubilee/Trooping because I figured she would at least try to get a photo with them looking out a window.

Thanks for all of this BTW!

[moondirti]

charcoal

pairing: John 'Soap' MacTavish x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 2.6k summary: you and johnny draw portraits of one another warnings: cock warming, unprotected p-in-v, creampies, handjobs, tooth rotting fluff, nude drawings, light masochism, mentions of death notes: inspired by soap's journal in mw3. our sweet boy can draw :)

“Sit still.”

A whisper, spoken like a fervent kiss to the space between you. Humid air, smothered under his peppercorn cologne and the tangy warmth of lingering sex. Johnny’s pelvis remains glued to the back of your thighs, conjoined at that sweltering centre, gently swelling back to rock-hard shape. It works to plug you full of him, a barrier to the cum he’d spilt a mere thirty minutes prior.  

Mere. To you, long hours have gone by while stuck in this state, oscillating from painful overstimulation to an insatiable urge that only exists with him – more, more – and back again. But he exercises a surprising restraint. No. Unexpected. A fortitude obviously cultivated in the SAS, carbon under pressure, polished and primed. One that is diamond-sharp, deadly even, but usually crumbles to dust around you. 

He keeps your leg hooked over one broad shoulder. The other quivers, cushioned by the duvet, serving as a surface for the item he’d fetched in a rush. 

Fuck. Hold it righ’ there. Freshly spent, glowing with an endorphin-logged high.

Huh– W-What’re you doing? 

Y'look so bloody beautiful like this, hen. Have ta memorialise it. 

Ever the flatterer. You’ve no doubt you’re a mess – mussed hair, smudged mascara. The only thing he’d left in his stripping you was the necklace you’d worn for his welcome home; a golden chain, charmed with a replica of his dog tag and an antique locket you’d salvaged from your grandmother’s place.

You thought he’d been reaching for a polaroid; a quick snapshot of the moment, print to be stapled to the inside of his combat coat. But he’d ducked under your bed – not the nightstand where you kept the camera – and ruffled through dust bunnies and expired condoms for the stash of things he deems too important to take with him to the job. Material objects, little keepsakes, left to rot behind, with you. 

He’d come back up with a self-satisfied grin, a journal – moleskine bound and half-full of rough scribbles – clasped between waving fingers. 

It’s not the first time he draws you. Just the first time he does of such an intimate scene. 

Clenching involuntarily, you flush at the thought. Johnny’s free hand tenses from its place on your knee, soothing circles turned bruising touch. Giggling, you squeeze him again, only to be met with a particularly vicious thrust of his hips. 

“Nng-! Christ,” 

“What'd I tell ya?” 

“I had been.” The protest peaks at the back of your throat, forming something more akin to a whine. His chuckle is indicative of the fact; sunlit bough and soft moss gaze catching yours. His eyes pool like honey in the lowlight, gold drawn out by the haze of your surroundings. Warm. “You’re taking too long.” 

“Wad ye rather I get the shadin’ on yer tits wrong?” He teases, gaelic-curled accent accompanied by sharp scratches of charcoal on paper. The black dust coats calloused fingertips, concentrated on the middle, the one he uses for smudging. “Ye'll end up lookin like ma great aunt.” 

“That’s gross.” 

“Watch it. Rory was a great woman.” 

But his chest widens in that special way, skin rippling over thickset sinew, and you know his current contentment runs bone deep. He gloats it, wearing the radiance like he does the sweat; the tender marks along his neck, imprints of your teeth cut in blood. His battle scars pale in contrast, silver and thin and nothing when set beside the raised scratches, red, carved mid-fuck. 

You’ve tried to be gentle with him. Really, you have. 

You just found he doesn’t prefer it.

A Noah’s-Ark cataclysm of rain, unending cataracts of water sluicing from the sky. They wash over the windshield, the windows – you can barely see beyond the hood of his car. 

It was your suggestion to wait the storm out. You’d gone on a picnic for your first date, perched up high on some mountain that now seems too formidable to scale down.

Spice with rosy overtones. His scent is intoxicating, distilled on that spot – the edge of a broad tendon that stretches up his neck. Johnny’s clad in a polo shirt, the collar slightly popped to cover the patch of skin, but you catch sight of it every once in a while. Enough to fuel your internal screams, urging you to act against what is proper. 

Hold out ‘till the next time you see him. Leave him wanting more.

He’s talking. Something about football and fake turf scrapes. 

God. That voice. Full-bodied, confident with all the charisma to match. You latch on to every syllable, basking in the way they furl from him – rolled r’s, two element vowels morphing to one. What’s the word for gorgeous in Scottish jargon? He’d taught you it over a bowl of strawberries. 

Broad. Brock. Brow. Br… something.

But his thumb had swiped out to the edge of your lip to catch a bead of stray juice, and you’d lost all wit. In one ear, out the other. Boiled down to a saccharine, lust-filled puree. 

You’d wanted to take the digit into your mouth. 

The high altitude ensures the car is frigid, windows chilled with a freezing pellet downpour. The skirt you wore does nothing to hide the goosebumps that prickle down your thighs. 

It’s not the weather, though. It’s him. He inspires a cyclone in you, a vortex of violently rotating winds that upturn every function. Hot. Cold. A puddle of melted something, stirring deep within the recesses of your gut. Your attempts to smother it down will forever be in vain. 

Him. Him.

He drives you mad. You’re fucking stupid. 

But pellucid blue light streams in from outside, the sun sinking behind gunmetal clouds, and Johnny fills his jeans nicely, you think. Hulking thighs force the denim to its limits, stretched and spread and–

Oh.

Maybe your mind had skipped over it purposely. For knowledge of what it would do to you. In knowing that your panties are already slick, unable to hold the extra saturation. You’ll leak onto his seat. 

Fuck.

A prominent, massive bulge. Strained, outwardly painful. 

Enticing. 

You flood, anyway. Overbearing heat and oblivion striking your core. A breath catches, spinning to form a small bubble of recklessness between constricting lungs. 

You speak before you begin to process it all. 

“We’ll be here for a while.” 

Stupid, silly girl. 

He halts, tangent lost to the half-lidded look you give him. Your nails graze the arm nearest to you, propped on the console, brushing through hair to elicit a deep shudder – mirror to your salacity. It tells him what he can already guess. 

In the split second it takes for your impulse to waver, he recovers, back to that ludic man you’d met just last week. 

“And there are only so many things to talk about.” Johnny nods.

Your heart slams on hollow ribs. He may hear it if he tries hard enough; an echoed melody of cosmic yearning. 

“Gotta save some for next time.” 

“Aye.” His head ducks closer to yours, locking you to those bonfire eyes. “Next time?”

“Hmm, if you like me enough.” The suggestion skips across your nervous titter. Spearmint washes over you when he speaks, cold breath a product of the pack of gum he keeps tucked in his car door. He’d told you he reserves the stash for special occasions, with only the ‘prettiest of hens.’ You’d folded the wrapper into a heart and placed it against the stick shift. 

“I like ya, bonnie. Only question is–”  A bent forefinger taps your chin, thumb caressing the curve of it. “Do ye like me?” 

You let your stare flutter down to his lips; perfect, pink, pulled in a devious smirk. It wipes any semblance of logic from you. Propriety, the manners your mother taught you at a holiday dinner table – cross your legs, elbows off the table – dissipate to ash. You’re raw; skinned alive and vulnerable to whatever he wants. 

Crackling nerves. You don’t answer, don’t say a word. 

Instead, you lean in to kiss the scar on his lip. 

And it all goes to hell from there. 

Hurried gropes, desperation fogging. You bend over the centre – precariously balanced on your knees – to hug his head closer to yours. His hands find purchase on your waist, exposed now, your sweater rucked upwards to hang just below your bra. You can see his back in the reflection of the window, his muscles rolling under a too-tight shirt, expanding to accommodate the weight you throw onto him. 

It’s hormone fuelled, messy. Your teeth clack and your tongues wrestle and you can only ponder on releasing him, on untucking his hard length from hindering pants. 

“H-Here–” You stutter into his mouth, left hand smoothing down his chest to dance teasingly at the waistband. His hips buck the slightest bit. “Let me…” 

“Wanna make ye feel good too, lass.” 

“Please.” 

And it must be the way you say it, the keen in your tone, the pout of your lips. You’re close to tears, eyes glossy like the wet road ahead. It must be; mutual magnetism, some shared fondness that makes him concede to your plea  (I like ye, bonnie), before he helps you pull them down to let his cock spring free. Head flush and base thick enough to split your lips. 

You swim impossibly deeper into the pool of crush-drunk abandon. 

Braw. That was it. Braw, for mind-numbing attractiveness. Or so to say– 

Maybe you’re exaggerating. It doesn’t feel like a grand enough word to encapsulate this. To capture him. 

Nothing could be enough. Your first date and yet you sit here, obsessed already, willing to spend a lifetime showing him all you can’t say. How those eyes draw from you a lightness, an ease. Hazel has quickly become your favourite colour. How mohawks are an abomination to conscientious style, but how he makes them work, much to your displeasure. You imagine plugging clippers in a shared bathroom, helping him buzz off the sides prior to longer missions. Sending him off with a kiss that means more than just interest.

“Fuck.”

“Feart, now?” 

His accent thickens in the throes of pleasure. You add the word to your growing list and spit on your hand to help slick him up. 

He stops you before you can wrap it around his leaking cock. “Wait, wait.” 

Head still buried into the crook of his neck, a trail of purpling bruises adorning the stubbled skin of his jaw – you can only spot him in your peripheral, a hazy blur of long eyelashes and a prominent nose. 

His hands unclip your bra when he speaks again: 

“Do it dry. I like when it hurts a little.”

A year later now. He’d wrapped an assignment early to see you on your anniversary. 

“Done?” 

You’re sticky with cooling sweat and spit, fluids hardening on supple flesh in the filtered air of your bedroom. Both naked, posed in the same position; your right glute burns with the ache of a prolonged stretch, still thrown over his shoulder as he hurriedly finishes the final details of his sketch. 

“Almost. Canae fuckin’ get the lightin’ right.” 

“Lemme see,” You make a grab for the journal. He bats your hand away. 

“No.” Johnny huffs, shifting to look at you from a slightly different angle. “I think it’s the glow.” 

“The glow?” 

“Aye. Took ower long ta get those gorgeous tits down, you’ve lost that sex sheen.”

“You’re mad.” 

The hand that was at your knee starts to knead your thigh, grabbing whatever it can hold. An intentional touch, he targets every tender area, sparking a match to an already smouldering flame. The pressure at your core tightens.

“I’d say it’s a quick fix,”

Your hips buck to meet the heavy weight of his palm as it flattens against your pelvis, seeking true fusion to the rough skin. You’re feverish, practically singing him; you spread your legs and do what you can to spear yourself further onto his cock, one that has not yet left the tight clutch of your cunt. 

This is what the poets eulogise, this ‘swete breeth’ reverence. Zephyrus – he’s zephyr adjacent – the god of westerly wind. But he places you on a shrine like he’s not the being made of sun; touches you with a prayer imbued into his callouses – barnacled reminders of his life as Soap. Your Johnny, as he is with you, finds you speechless and continues giving – pouring water onto wet clay, bending you as he pinpoints an electric centre, that bundle of nerves that has you seeing star-speckled pantheons. 

He continues to work your clit even as you kick his back, heel thrashing onto freckled skin. The overstimulation is not creeping, it does not wait until you’ve come undone – no. You’ve been on this tightrope for far too long now, and your legs tremble with the sheer exhaustion of it all. It’s never clear with him, whether the end is in sight. There are often moments of recovery where you pull away, only for him to flip you over and stuff you full again. 

The lewd squelch of your cunt, your wailing moans; you hardly register them as he begins pistoning into you, both hands and dick devoted to completing the picture. All that exists is sacred, divine insensibility. Pleasure in its purest form, locked in this haven where you’re safe to imagine holding onto him forever. 

“J-Johnny… Johnny, God– I’m gonna–”

He gains speed, fucking your sopping heat with a brutal pace, unrelenting as he circles your abused clit. You don’t have it in you to even move, boneless and wholly open to his ministrations. 

“Tha's exactly what we want now, bonnie. Go on, cum for me.” 

The muscles in your core harden, too brittle to stand against the wicked tide brimming within you. It drives you delirious, flooding your instincts. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your back arches – you absolutely ruin the continuity that comes with being his live model. But you don’t care. You don’t care. He’s so good at hitting you in all the right places – head nudging your cervix, his breadth stretching you out with a fiery sting. He rubs you raw, chafing, and you’re so close. 

You think about jerking him off on your first date, coaxing from him groans that taste like scotch and spearmint-covered strawberries. The sorest handjob known to mankind – he’d cum hard, spurting thick globs of warm fluid onto his lap, webbing your fingers together with his essence. His apologies had fallen on deaf ears when you’d licked yourself clean. 

You think about meeting him at that bar, nursing a fruity drink with a wild name. Your friend had abandoned you for some blonde chick, but Johnny took your lonesome as an opportunity to swoop in and compliment your dress. He’d later told you that he’d only been looking for a quick fix to stall on the grief of a close friend's death. Turns out, ye're not so much a stall, more a remedy, love. Sad tae say I'm glad yer friend was horny that night. 

You think of him, now. Of the past twenty-something pages of his journal filled with nothing but idle doodles of you and gum-wrapper hearts, no longer dedicated to anguished attempts at remembering lost comrades. He’s grown to be a better artist, lines bold and drawn in sole strokes, able to capture just about anything in ballpoint pen alone. 

Well I’ve got the perfect muse now, haven’ I? 

You break, shattering into a million fragments. You know he’ll pick you up.

Finally resting, spooned together under clean sheets. A strong arm thrown over you, holding open a page for your scrutiny. 

“It’s nice, baby! You might’ve made me too pretty, though.” 

A growl. “Shut it. That’s all you.”

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