#it’s midnight and this gif keeps hitting me across the face

[seafarersdream]

Campaign Trail | Modern AU! (Gwayne Hightower x Y/N)

Strap in for the wild ride of Gwayne Hightower’s political rise, as seen through the eyes of his campaign manager, Y/N. From clueless debates to dodging scandalous tabloids and pretending he knows the price of a pint, Gwayne is your classic posh boy gone rogue running as a Lib Dem candidate. And it’s Y/N’s job to keep his ego in check, his speeches on point, and, occasionally, his pants on. Welcome to the Gwayne Hightower campaign. Expect chaos. Word count: 12k

TW // Strong language and profanities, characters frequently consume alcohol (including scenes of heavy drinking), boss/employee romantic trope, power dynamics, sexual and crass humor, depictions of extreme wealth and privilege (rich assholes basically).

“Bloody hell, Gwayne, are you even listening to me?” Y/N slammed her pen down on the table, the clatter echoing through the dimly lit campaign office. It was well past midnight, and the stale smell of cold pizza mixed with the faint scent of Gwayne’s overpriced cologne was starting to make her head spin.

Gwayne Hightower, the posh prat in question, barely looked up from his phone. He was lounging back in his chair, long legs stretched out like he owned the place — which, to be fair, he probably did in some indirect, old-money, nepotistic kind of way. “I am listening,” he drawled, though his thumb kept scrolling. “Something about, uh, housing and healthcare. Right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard she could’ve seen the back of her skull. “Yeah, mate, just the minor detail of your whole bloody platform,” she shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You know, the stuff that actually makes people vote for you?”

Gwayne’s lips curled into that infuriatingly perfect smirk, the kind that belonged more to a model, not on some would-be politician. “You mean the bit where I pretend to care?”

She let out a frustrated sigh and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, the pretending bit. But let’s make it convincing this time, yeah?”

The office was a mess of coffee cups, crumpled notes, and campaign leaflets. A lone desk lamp threw a harsh yellow light across the room, casting long shadows on the wall. Outside, the rain battered against the windows, the only sound in the quiet street below. The clock ticked loudly, reminding them of every minute they were wasting.

Y/N picked up a sheet of paper, waving it in his face. “Look, you need to hit them where it matters. People care about the NHS. They care about whether they can afford to put a roof over their heads. Not about… whatever posh nonsense you were going on about last week.”

Gwayne finally put down his phone, leaning forward with a feigned look of interest. “What was wrong with what I said?”

She snorted. “Mate, you can’t promise a home for every hardworking Brit when your idea of a starter home is a bloody Georgian townhouse in Chelsea.”

Gwayne chuckled, and for a second, she hated how charming he could be when he wasn’t being an absolute prat. “Fair point. Alright, Ms. Campaign Manager, what do we say?”

Y/N leaned in, their faces just inches apart, and she could see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes. “You say,” she whispered, “that you’re going to make housing affordable, that you’ll protect the NHS like it’s the crown jewels, and that you actually give a damn about people who don’t have trust funds or daddy’s money to fall back on.”

He stared at her, something unreadable flickering across his face. “You think they’ll buy it?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Not if you keep looking like you’re about to laugh every time you say it. You need to mean it, Gwayne. Or at least act like you do. Think of it like… theatre.”

He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that surprised her. “Theatre, is it? So what, am I Olivier or just a bloke in a bad panto?”

Y/N grinned. “Depends. You reckon you can handle a bit of method acting? Maybe imagine you’re someone who doesn’t have everything handed to them on a silver platter?”

Gwayne leaned back, still watching her, and she felt a strange tension crackle between them, something electric, something unspoken. “You’ve got a smart mouth, Y/N. That why I hired you?”

She shrugged, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck. “Nah. You hired me because I’m the only one who’ll call you out on your bullshit.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You like calling me out, don’t you?”

Her breath hitched for just a second, and she cursed herself for letting him get to her. “Someone has to,” she said, her voice steady. “And you clearly love it.”

His smirk grew. “Maybe I do.”

She felt her face flush and decided to change the subject before she ended up doing something stupid. Like kissing that smug grin right off his face. “Right, back to work. We need a slogan that sticks. Something the punters will remember. Something that makes them think you’re the real deal.”

Gwayne leaned back, eyes still locked on hers, a challenge glinting in them. “You mean something like, Vote for me or I’ll bloody well buy your house myself?”

Y/N snorted, and for a moment, the tension eased. “Yeah, that’ll go down a treat in Hackney.”

“Alright,” he said, leaning closer again, his voice softer now, more serious. “Help me, then. What do I say?”

She felt that pull again, that magnetic draw that made her want to slap him and snog him in equal measure. She shook her head, trying to focus. “You say,” she murmured, leaning in so close their noses almost touched, “that you’re going to fight for them like you’d fight for your own bloody life. That every day you’re in office, you’re not just some posh tosser playing politics. You’re there because you bloody care.”

Gwayne’s breath brushed against her lips, and she swore she saw his eyes flicker to her mouth. “And you think they’ll believe me?”

She felt her heart race, her pulse quickening. “They’ll believe it,” she whispered, “if you say it like you bloody well mean it.”

For a second, everything hung in the air between them, the rain pounding against the window like a drumbeat, their breaths mingling in the space between. And then he moved back, breaking the spell, his grin back in place.

“Alright,” he said, voice light again. “Let’s do this, then. Make me sound like a bloody hero.”

Y/N smiled, picking up her pen. “Oh, I will. And you better not cock it up.”

He winked. “Wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at her lips. She will either kill this campaign, or it kills her first. Which she is not sure yet.

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“Remember, Gwayne,” Y/N muttered as she straightened his tie, fingers brushing against his collar for a moment too long, “Stick to the message. Focus on the solutions, not the problems. You’re not just some arse in a suit; you’re the bloke who’s going to fix this mess.”

Gwayne’s grin was too confident for her liking. “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he replied, eyes twinkling with that familiar arrogance. “It’s not my first rodeo.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Right, because you’ve handled so many housing crises in your plush penthouse.”

He chuckled. “Come on, love. Give me a bit of credit. I’ve been prepping for this all week.”

“Yeah, and it shows,” Y/N shot back, sarcasm sharp enough to cut glass. “Now, get in there, charm their pants off, but for God’s sake, don’t let him corner you on the numbers.”

The studio lights were blinding, hot enough to feel like the sun itself had decided to join them inside. Across from Gwayne sat Martin Caldwell, a journalist infamous for his pitbull tactics and never letting a politician off the hook. Caldwell looked like a vulture in a cheap suit, his eyes narrowed and mouth twitching as if he could already smell the blood.

Gwayne settled into his chair, flashing that perfect smile. “Thanks for having me, Martin,” he said smoothly.

Martin didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we, Gwayne?” he said, leaning forward, voice like a scalpel. “Housing crisis. The capital’s got over 60,000 homeless households, more than 80,000 children living in temporary accommodation. And that number’s only climbing. Now, you’re here, all clean and polished, talking about affordable housing, but let’s be real — what’s your plan, really? Because people out there, they’re struggling. They’re angry.”

Gwayne didn’t flinch, kept his smile steady. “Look, Martin, the housing crisis is a massive issue, no question. It’s about more than just numbers; it’s about people, families—”

“But let’s talk about numbers, Gwayne,” Martin cut him off, eyes gleaming. “Since 2010, there’s been a 70% increase in households in temporary accommodation. 70%! That’s a bloody lot, isn’t it? How do you plan to fix that with just more of the same?”

Y/N watched from the sidelines, her heart thudding against her ribs. This wasn’t going to be easy. She’d told him to stick to the message, keep it simple, but she could already see Caldwell trying to lure him into a trap. Gwayne’s jaw tightened — just a fraction, but she saw it. And so did Caldwell.

“Look, the current policies clearly haven’t worked,” Gwayne replied, leaning in, voice steady. “What we need is a radical overhaul. A commitment to building a new generation of affordable homes, partnerships between government and private sectors, and a serious plan to cut down the bureaucratic red tape that—”

Caldwell pounced. “Right, but where’s the money coming from, Gwayne? You’re talking about a ‘radical overhaul,’ but that means a radical budget. Are you going to raise taxes? Cut other services? Let’s hear it, Gwayne. What’s the actual plan?”

Gwayne hesitated, just for a second, and Y/N felt her stomach drop. That was all Caldwell needed. The interviewer leaned in further, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Or is this just another politician’s promise? More hot air while kids sleep in shelters?”

Gwayne’s smile faltered, just a flicker, but it was enough. He could feel the pressure mounting, the audience’s eyes on him, waiting for a stumble. “Look,” he started, but his voice wasn’t quite as strong now, “it’s a complex issue, and we’re working—”

Caldwell cut him off again, like a shark sensing blood in the water. “Working on what, Gwayne? A plan that doesn't exist?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears. Damn it, this was spiraling, and fast. She moved closer to the stage manager, whispering frantically. “I need to get on his earpiece. Now.”

Seconds later, Gwayne heard her voice, calm and clear through his earpiece. “Stop defending. Go on the attack. Talk about the real culprits — landlords, greedy developers, government failures. Take control, Gwayne, before he buries you.”

Gwayne’s eyes flicked to the camera, and his posture straightened. He smiled, but this time there was steel behind it. “Alright, Martin, let’s talk about the real issue here,” he said, his voice steadying. “The housing crisis didn’t happen overnight, and it didn’t happen because of the people living in temporary accommodation. It happened because of decades of government inaction, because landlords were given free reign to hike rents, because developers were allowed to build luxury flats while people can’t afford a basic home.”

Caldwell raised an eyebrow, surprised by the shift. “So, you’re blaming the private sector now?”

“I’m blaming a system that’s rigged, Martin,” Gwayne shot back, finding his stride. “A system where a handful of people get rich while everyone else suffers. And that’s what I’m here to change. To fight for a fair deal, not just for the few, but for everyone.”

Y/N could see Caldwell’s eyes narrow. He wasn’t expecting this. Good. Keep him off balance.

Caldwell pressed again, but now there was a hint of frustration. “But specifics, Gwayne. People want to know how—”

“I’ll give you specifics,” Gwayne cut in sharply, leaning forward. “First, we cap rents to stop people being priced out of their own communities. We fund social housing properly, no more of these half-hearted measures. We build homes people can actually afford, and we crack down on empty properties left to rot while families go homeless. And yeah, Martin, if that means stepping on a few toes in the private sector, so be it. Because this isn’t about comfort. It’s about doing what’s right.”

There was a pause. Caldwell seemed momentarily lost for words, and that was all Y/N needed. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

Gwayne finished strong. “I’m not here to make friends with the developers or the landlords, Martin. I’m here to make sure that every child in this country has a safe place to call home.”

Caldwell recovered, trying to regain control. “Strong words, Gwayne. But can you deliver?”

Gwayne smiled, this time without hesitation. “Watch me.”

The interview wrapped up, and Y/N could feel the tension slowly ease out of her shoulders. As Gwayne walked off set, she met him in the wings, her expression a mix of frustration and begrudging admiration.

“Nice save,” she said, crossing her arms.

Gwayne grinned, a bit of the cockiness back. “Thanks to you. You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a smile. “You were one misstep away from a bloody train wreck, you know that?”

He stepped closer, his voice low, teasing. “Maybe I like a bit of danger. Keeps things interesting.”

She felt that familiar heat rise between them, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Well, next time, try not to give me a heart attack on live TV, yeah?”

Gwayne chuckled. “No promises. But… thanks, Y/N. Really.”

She gave him a nod. “Just doing my job. Now let’s go. We’ve got a lot of damage control to do.”

He watched her walk away, a smile tugging at his lips. “And here I thought we just saved the day.”

Y/N looked back over her shoulder, grinning. “Maybe. But the day’s not over yet, Hightower.”

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“This place is bloody ridiculous, Gwayne.” Y/N muttered as she wandered through the lavish rooms of his Belgravia townhouse, glass of absinthe in hand. The place screamed money — old money, the kind that people like her never saw outside of films or the pages of Tatler. She ran her fingers along the gilded edge of a massive mirror, its frame probably worth more than her yearly salary.

Gwayne, sprawled comfortably on a deep leather sofa, shot her a lopsided grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She rolled her eyes and took a swig of her drink, the bitter taste burning down her throat. “I mean, look at this,” she said, gesturing around with her glass. “A townhouse in Belgravia? You’ve got Raphaels hanging on your walls, for fuck’s sake. You collect rare artwork like most people collect fridge magnets.”

He glanced at the painting she was pointing to — a delicate Madonna in blues and golds, her serene face glowing softly in the low light of the room. “Not just any Raphaels. The best ones. Acquired at private auctions, if you must know,” he replied with a lazy smirk. “It’s not a crime to have taste.”

Y/N snorted. “Yeah, because that’s what everyone does with their disposable income. Attend auctions with the world’s elite and outbid some oligarch for a Bernini bust.”

He grinned wider. “It was a spirited bidding war, I’ll give you that. Oligarchs can be quite tenacious.”

She laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “You’re something else, Hightower.”

The townhouse was ridiculously opulent. The kind of place that would feature in a glossy spread titled London’s Most Exclusive Homes. Velvet drapes framed enormous windows that looked out onto pristine, manicured gardens. The walls were adorned with priceless works of art, paintings that most people would only see behind thick glass in a museum. A faint scent of rich leather and wood polish filled the air, mingling with the sharper notes of absinthe.

Gwayne had insisted on pouring her a drink the moment they got in, promising her it would “take the edge off.” And she had to admit, it was doing the trick.

“Alright, you’ve buttered me up with the fancy booze,” Y/N said, plopping herself into a chair that felt like sinking into a cloud. “Now spill. Why the bloody hell are you running as a Liberal Democrat?”

Gwayne blinked, surprised by the bluntness of her question. Then he chuckled. “You’ve been dying to ask me that, haven’t you?”

“Are you kidding? It’s been killing me,” she shot back, leaning forward. “I mean, look at you. Everything about you screams Tory. The suits, the townhouse, the art collection that could fund a small country. And yet here you are, waving the Lib Dem flag. It doesn’t add up.”

He took a slow sip of his own absinthe, letting her words hang in the air. “Maybe I like a challenge,” he finally said, a hint of mischief in his tone.

She snorted again. “Oh, come off it. You’re not in this for a challenge. You’re in it for… hell, I don’t know, but it’s not because you’re a bleeding heart liberal. So why?”

Gwayne’s smile faded slightly, his blue eyes studying her carefully. “Maybe I actually believe in something, Y/N. Did you ever think of that?”

She held his gaze, not backing down. “Sure. I just thought that something would involve tax cuts for the rich and a couple of fox hunts on the weekends.”

He laughed, a real laugh this time, not the polished, practiced chuckle he usually gave to the cameras. “Alright, fair play. I can see why you’d think that.”

“So…?” she pressed.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, swirling the emerald liquid in his glass. “Alright, you want the truth?”

“That’s why I asked,” she replied, her tone softer now.

He hesitated, just for a moment, before speaking again. “I was supposed to be Tory. God, was I ever. Family’s a line of them. Granddad, Dad, every bloody Hightower since time began, probably. I was raised for it, groomed for it. Eton, Oxford, the whole bloody conveyor belt to Westminster.”

She nodded. “I’m with you so far. Still not seeing where the Lib Dem part comes in.”

Gwayne leaned forward, his voice lower, more serious. “It was all set up. Tory membership card practically in my cradle. Then one day, I actually took a look at what was happening around me. Went to a few dinners, talked to the ‘right’ people. Listened to them… talk. And, Christ, Y/N, it made me sick.”

She blinked, surprised. “You? Sick? You love a posh dinner as much as the next trust fund baby.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t the dinners, love. It was the people at them. The entitlement. The utter lack of care for anyone outside their bubble. I realized I didn’t want to be part of that. Not if it meant towing the line on policies that only protect the people who’ve already got everything. The way they talked about people… like they were numbers, not lives. I couldn’t do it.”

She leaned back, considering his words. “So, you’re telling me you had some grand epiphany?”

He shrugged. “Something like that. I figured, if I was going to get into politics, I’d do it to actually make a difference. The Lib Dems… they’re not perfect, but they’re about giving a damn about everyone, not just the privileged few.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow. “And you’re not one of the privileged few?”

He laughed. “Oh, I am. Born and bloody bred. But that doesn’t mean I have to play by their rules. Maybe I want to rewrite them.”

She stared at him, her heart unexpectedly softening. Maybe this privileged prat actually believed what he was saying. “So, what’s the endgame then? 10 Downing Street?”

He chuckled. “Maybe. But that’s for another day. Right now, I just want to make some noise and see if anyone’s listening.”

She took another sip of her absinthe, feeling the warmth spread through her chest. “Well, you’ve got my attention, at least.”

He leaned closer, a playful glint in his eye. “Oh, I noticed.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t let it go to your head, Hightower. I’m still here to make sure you don’t bollocks this up.”

He grinned. “I’d be lost without you, Y/N.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, you would.”

For a moment, the room seemed smaller, the space between them charged, and Y/N felt that familiar pull again — the magnetic tension that always seemed to hang in the air whenever they were close. She tore her gaze away, looking around at the paintings instead.

“This absinthe’s going straight to my head,” she muttered.

He chuckled, watching her closely. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Gwayne. I’m still your campaign manager. You need me sober enough to make sure you don’t say something stupid again.”

He leaned back, his smile still in place. “Fair enough. But maybe just for tonight, we can forget about campaigns and crises. Just… be two people having a drink.”

Y/N met his eyes, and for once, she couldn’t find a quick comeback. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Maybe just for tonight.”

And for a brief, quiet moment, neither of them spoke. The townhouse, with all its ridiculous wealth and art, seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, caught in the electric tension of what might be.

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The rain was coming down in sheets, turning the streets of Hackney into a grey, slick mess. Puddles formed in the cracks of the pavements, and the smell of wet concrete hung in the air. Y/N was soaked to the bone, her coat heavy with rain, but she didn’t care. She was too busy making sure Gwayne didn’t make an utter arse of himself.

They were in the heart of Hackney, one of the neighborhoods hardest hit by the housing crisis. Rundown council flats lined the streets, their brick facades crumbling, windows boarded up or patched with mismatched panes of glass. Gwayne’s designer shoes were caked in mud, and she couldn’t help but smirk as he tried to navigate the uneven pavement, clearly out of his comfort zone.

“Careful, mate,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow. “Wouldn’t want to scuff those fancy loafers of yours.”

Gwayne shot her a look, half-amused, half-exasperated. “I’ll have you know these are perfectly sensible shoes.”

“Sensible?” she scoffed. “For what? A yacht party in Monaco?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just focus on the job, yeah?”

The rain showed no sign of letting up, but the community center up ahead was buzzing with activity. Inside, a group of local residents, activists, and a few journalists had gathered. The room was crowded, the air thick with the smell of damp coats and instant coffee. There was a mix of skepticism and curiosity on the faces of the people, and Y/N knew this was their chance to make an impression.

She turned to Gwayne, lowering her voice. “Alright, here’s the plan. Listen more than you speak. They don’t need another politician giving them empty promises. They need to feel like you’re actually listening to their problems.”

Gwayne nodded, adjusting his jacket. “Got it. No posh nonsense.”

She gave him a small, approving smile. “And for the love of God, don’t mention your townhouse.”

He grinned. “Noted.”

As they stepped inside, all eyes turned to them. The chatter quieted down, replaced by the soft hum of whispered conversations. Y/N could feel the tension in the air, the weight of expectation. Gwayne moved forward, shaking hands, offering polite nods and warm smiles, and to his credit, he seemed genuinely interested.

But she could sense the underlying wariness from the crowd. These were people who had been promised a lot by politicians, only to be disappointed time and again. They weren’t going to be won over by a posh accent and a well-tailored suit.

She nudged him toward a group of women huddled in the corner, each with tired eyes and worn faces. “Start here,” she murmured. “Single mothers. Most of them on the housing waiting list for years.”

Gwayne approached them with a disarming smile. “Hello ladies, I’m Gwayne Hightower,” he began, reaching out to shake their hands. “I’m here to listen to your concerns and see how we can work together to make things better.”

One of the women, a middle-aged lady with a mane of curly hair and an accent as thick as the rain outside, crossed her arms, eyeing him suspiciously. “You a politician, then?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism.

Gwayne nodded. “Yes, I’m running for Parliament—”

She cut him off, snorting. “Figures. Another posh boy with promises, eh? What makes you different from the rest?”

Y/N held her breath. This was it. Make or break. She watched as Gwayne took a breath, steadying himself. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m here because I want to change things. I know I come from a different background, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about what’s happening here.”

The woman eyed him for a moment, then turned to Y/N. “And you? You believe him?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“Yeah,” the woman pressed. “You look like you’ve got a brain in your head. Why you working for him?”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Gwayne. For a second, she wasn’t sure how to answer. But then she decided to be honest. “Because I think he actually gives a damn. As much as it pains me to admit it.”

The woman’s eyes softened a fraction. “A posh boy who cares, eh? That’s a new one.”

Gwayne chuckled, relaxing a bit. “I promise you, I’m full of surprises.”

Before the woman could respond, a young man in his twenties stepped forward, anger flashing in his eyes. “What are you going to do about the housing crisis?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “I’ve been stuck in a hostel for two years with my daughter. No council house, no help. You lot don’t care about us. You don’t have to live like we do.”

Gwayne met his gaze, a serious expression crossing his face. “You’re right. I don’t live like you do. But that doesn’t mean I can’t fight to change it.”

The man scoffed. “Easy for you to say. You’ll go back to your fancy house tonight, yeah? What do you know about struggling?”

Y/N felt a surge of defensiveness on Gwayne’s behalf, but before she could speak, Gwayne raised a hand, his voice calm. “I don’t know what it’s like to be in your shoes. But I’m here because I want to learn, and I want to do something about it. I want to make sure that people like you don’t have to go through this.”

The young man seemed taken aback by the directness of his answer. “Yeah? And how are you going to do that?”

Gwayne looked him straight in the eye. “By building more affordable homes, by fighting for rent controls, by holding landlords accountable, and by putting pressure on the government to prioritize housing over profits.”

Y/N watched the young man, his expression slowly shifting from anger to something closer to consideration. Maybe even hope. She felt a flicker of something in her chest — pride? Maybe.

But then, the conversation was interrupted by an older woman, her face lined with years of hardship. “Talk is cheap, love,” she said quietly. “We’ve heard it all before.”

Gwayne nodded, not shying away from the hard truth. “You’re right. It is. But I’m here because I want to prove I’m different. And if I’m not, then hold me accountable. Make sure I deliver.”

The older woman studied him for a moment, then gave a small, reluctant nod. “Alright, then. We’ll see.”

Y/N turned away from Gwayne for a moment and spotted an elderly man sitting in the corner, his hands trembling as he held onto a cane. She approached him, crouching down. “Hello,” she said softly. “What’s your name?”

“Frank,” he replied, his voice raspy. “I’m here every week… watchin’… listening.”

Y/N smiled gently. “What do you think of all this, Frank?”

He chuckled, a dry, weary sound. “Think he’s different, your lad. Might even mean it. But they all mean it at first, don’t they?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I suppose they do.”

Frank’s eyes twinkled. “But he’s got fire. And fire’s what we need. Someone to burn the whole bloody system down and start fresh.”

Y/N glanced back at Gwayne, who was deep in conversation, genuinely listening, and she felt something stir inside her. Maybe Frank was right. Maybe Gwayne wasn’t just a posh boy with a fancy townhouse and a taste for absinthe. Maybe he was something more.

She turned back to Frank and smiled. “Yeah, maybe he is.”

Frank nodded, then winked. “You make sure he don’t lose that fire, eh?”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, I will, Frank. I will.”

Y/N could feel the crowd’s eyes on her, a mix of doubt, curiosity, and frustration etched into their faces. This was her moment. If they were going to stand a chance of winning over Hackney, she had to make them believe. Not just in Gwayne, but in what they could actually do together.

She stepped forward, hands raised in a gesture of openness. “Alright, listen up,” she called, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the room. “I know what you’re all thinking. Who’s this posh boy, swanning in here with his fancy shoes, telling us he’s going to solve our problems?”

A few people in the crowd nodded, some even chuckling in agreement. Gwayne shot her a wary look, but she ignored it, pressing on.

“You’re right,” she continued. “He’s got a swanky townhouse, he collects art worth more than most of us will see in our lifetimes, and he probably can’t tell a Greggs pasty from a bloody foie gras. But wouldn’t you rather have one of these posh boys on your side for once?”

The crowd was listening now, intrigued. She could see the skepticism starting to crack just a little.

“Think about it,” she went on, her voice gaining strength. “He’s got money. He’s got connections. He knows the people who pull the strings, the ones who make decisions about your lives while sipping champagne in Mayfair. He’s got the kind of influence that actually moves things along. Don’t you want someone like that fighting in your corner instead of against you?”

A few heads nodded slowly. She caught the eye of the young man from earlier, still frowning but clearly considering her words.

“And before you write me off as just another one of his people,” she added, raising her chin, “I’m not like him. Not by a long shot. I’m from Manchester — Manny born and bred. My dad owns a power tool shop, and my mum’s been working as a caterer for as long as I can remember. I worked my arse off to get into university, full ride scholarship because that was the only way I was getting in.”

She saw a few faces in the crowd soften, nodding in recognition. They knew what it meant to work for everything you had.

“And now here I am,” she continued, with a hint of defiance in her voice, “standing next to this posh, pretty boy. Not because I believe in his money or his connections, but because I believe he actually wants to do some good. Because for once, we’ve got one of these guys willing to take a stand, to fight for something other than his own bloody bank account.”

There was a murmur of approval now, a few people nodding, even clapping. She saw Frank in the corner, grinning like he’d just won a bet.

“So yeah,” Y/N said, letting her voice ring out strong, “I’m all in with him. And if you give him a chance, he’ll show you that he’s all in with you too. What have you got to lose? Another empty promise? Another politician who forgets about you the second they get to Westminster?”

Gwayne looked at her, a new appreciation in his eyes. He hadn’t expected her to go all in like that, to put herself on the line for him in front of these people. She had just thrown her whole story out there, her whole self, and it was resonating.

Y/N turned back to the crowd. “We know how this works, don’t we? We know the system’s rigged, and we know it’s not built for people like us. But here’s the thing — we can’t fight it alone. We need someone who can get into the room, sit at the table, and make some noise. Someone who’s willing to push the boundaries and shake things up.”

She took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline pumping through her veins. “I’m putting my money where my mouth is. I’m working with him, and I’m going to make damn sure he doesn’t just talk a good game. And if he tries to slack off, I’ll be the first to give him a kick up the arse.”

The crowd chuckled, a few cheers going up, and Y/N felt a surge of relief. They were starting to come around.

“So what do you say?” she finished, raising her voice. “Give us a chance. Hold us accountable. Make us prove it to you. Because I promise you, he’s not perfect — far from it — but he’s got fire, and he’s got the guts to use it.”

A small cheer went up, and Y/N felt a smile break across her face. The woman from before nodded approvingly, the young man seemed to relax a little, and even Frank was clapping slowly, his grin widening.

Gwayne stepped forward, taking his cue from her. “I know I’ve got a lot to prove,” he said, voice steady. “But with Y/N by my side — and with your support — I’m going to fight like hell for this community. For every single one of you.”

A louder cheer erupted this time, and Y/N felt her chest swell with a mix of pride and something else she wasn’t quite ready to name. She caught Gwayne’s eye, and he mouthed a silent “thank you,” a look of awe on his face.

She nodded, just a small dip of her head, but she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her lips. “Don’t thank me yet,” she whispered as he turned back to the crowd, her voice low enough only for him to hear. “We’ve still got a long way to go, posh boy.”

He chuckled, that infectious grin back on his face.

And as they continued to work the room, shaking hands and listening to stories, Y/N felt something shift.

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“This place doesn’t even have a bloody sign,” Y/N muttered, peering up at the unmarked black door set into a pristine brick facade. She shot Gwayne a sidelong glance as they stood on the dimly lit Mayfair street. “Is this one of those places where they judge you if you ask for ketchup?”

Gwayne smirked, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored suit. “Only if you pronounce it wrong.”

She rolled her eyes, but her nerves were starting to kick in. “And you’re sure I’m dressed alright for this? I’m feeling a bit like Bridget Jones at a state dinner.”

Gwayne gave her a quick once-over, his gaze lingering just a moment too long. “You look perfect,” he said, a bit softer than usual. “Better than perfect. Trust me, they’ll be too busy being themselves to notice.”

She snorted, trying to shake off the unease creeping up her spine. “Well, that’s reassuring. So, remind me again why I’m here?”

Gwayne’s grin widened. “Because I want you to meet my father. And my sister. And because I’m tired of them assuming I’m completely useless.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “So, I’m your human shield, then?”

“More like my secret weapon,” he replied, flashing that grin again, and she felt a flicker of warmth despite herself.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” she muttered, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The restaurant was beyond posh. It was the sort of place you didn’t even know existed unless you were born into a world where five-course meals were standard Tuesday fare. Dim lighting, soft jazz playing in the background, and tables spaced so far apart that you’d need a map and a compass to navigate. A sommelier in a suit that probably cost more than Y/N’s rent stood by the door, giving them a nod as they entered.

“Mr. Hightower,” he murmured with a deferential nod. “Your party is already seated.”

“Cheers, mate,” Gwayne replied, slipping the guy a tip that was probably equivalent to a week’s worth of groceries for her.

They were led to a private alcove, tucked away behind a velvet curtain. At the table sat Sir Otto Hightower, the very picture of an aristocratic patriarch, his white hair immaculately styled, a pin on his lapel glinting in the low light — the insignia of a Knight Grand Cross of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire. Because, of course, he bloody was.

Next to him sat Alicent Hightower, Gwayne’s sister, her auburn hair twisted into a perfect chignon, a string of pearls draped around her neck. Alicent was the epitome of a British socialite — impeccably dressed, with that strange air of religious guilt that seemed to cling to her like perfume. Y/N knew the type: all sweetness and light on the surface, but beneath… God only knew.

“Father, Alicent,” Gwayne said, his tone a bit too cheerful. “This is Y/N, my campaign manager.”

Sir Otto’s eyes flicked to Y/N, appraising her with a cold, calculating stare. “Ah, the one steering my son’s misguided adventure,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk but with a sharp edge.

Y/N offered her hand, forcing a smile. “Nice to meet you, Sir Otto. Though I prefer to think of it as a ‘guided’ adventure.”

Otto’s lips twitched slightly, a half-smile. “Quite. And what brings a… Manchester girl to this peculiar position?” He spoke ‘Manchester’ like it was a foreign concept.

Y/N bristled slightly but kept her composure. “Good old-fashioned hard work, Sir Otto. That, and a full scholarship to UCL.”

Alicent, who had been sipping her wine in silence, finally looked up. Her green eyes were bright, inquisitive. “UCL, how… admirable,” she murmured, her voice soft. “Tell me, Y/N, do you believe in God?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Er, not the best topic for a first dinner, is it?” she replied with a grin. “But sure, I’d say I’m more spiritual than religious.”

Alicent smiled, but there was something unsettling in it. “Oh, how lovely,” she cooed. “Spiritual… but not tethered to the truth of the Lord’s word.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself. “Well, I suppose the Lord’s word didn’t help much with the housing crisis, did it?”

Gwayne’s eyes widened slightly, and he hid a smirk behind his hand. Sir Otto, however, leaned back, an amused glint in his eyes. “I see you’ve brought a firecracker, Gwayne.”

Gwayne grinned.

Sir Otto’s expression shifted, serious now. “Gwayne, I’m concerned about this… campaign of yours. It’s one thing to indulge in some youthful rebellion, quite another to throw away your future in politics for a party that, frankly, doesn’t hold much weight.”

Y/N decided to jump in. “With all due respect, Sir Otto, that’s precisely why he’s running with the Lib Dems. Because they don’t have the same old baggage, because he wants to make a difference, not just go along with the same tired rhetoric.”

Otto’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp and assessing. “And you believe he can do that, Miss…?”

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. “L/N. Y/N L/N,” she replied with a slight tilt of her head, James Bond style. Her tone was cool, collected, and a bit cheeky. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her, not tonight.

Sir Otto chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound, as he scooped a bite of beluga caviar onto his spoon. “What’s in it for you, Miss L/N?” he asked, his voice dripping with curiosity as he placed the expensive delicacy into his mouth.

Y/N smiled, her expression nonchalant, and met his gaze without flinching. “Well, money, sir,” she said bluntly. “Can’t say no to a decent paycheck, can I?”

Otto laughed, a genuine, hearty sound that seemed to surprise even him. “Ah, honesty. A rare trait in politics. Refreshing.”

Alicent, who had been quiet for a moment, leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and a hint of amusement. “She is quite pretty, isn’t she?” she said with a small, mischievous smile. “Tell me, Y/N, any boyfriend? Fiancé? Surely someone must have snatched you up by now.”

Y/N kept her smile, though she felt the sting of the question, the way Alicent’s words seemed to pry at her personal life like a needle. She decided to answer truthfully, but with a touch of humor. “Well,” she began with a dry smile, “the last one ended because he cheated on me with his co-worker.”

Alicent’s eyebrows shot up, and even Otto paused mid-sip of his wine, surprised. Gwayne’s head whipped around so fast he nearly knocked over his water glass.

“Seriously?” Gwayne blurted out, before catching himself. “I mean… sorry, that’s… that’s bloody awful.”

Y/N shrugged, as if it were nothing more than an amusing anecdote. “Yeah, well, it makes for a good story at dinner parties, doesn’t it?”

Otto chuckled, clearly impressed. “You’ve got a tough skin, Miss L/N. You might just be what my son needs after all.”

Y/N grinned, raising her glass slightly. “Cheers to that, Sir Otto. Here’s to tough skins and thicker wallets.”

Alicent smiled, though her eyes were still studying Y/N carefully. “You certainly are… interesting, Y/N. Different from the usual lot Gwayne brings around.”

Y/N met her gaze without flinching. “Good. Because I’m not here to impress anyone, just to get the job done.”

Gwayne couldn’t hide his grin. “And that’s why she’s the best, Father. She’s real. And she’s not afraid to tell me when I’m being an idiot.”

Otto leaned back in his chair, still smiling. “Well, she’s got her work cut out for her then, doesn’t she?”

Alicent laughed softly. “Indeed. I rather like you, Y/N. And believe me, that’s not something I say often.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.”

As the dinner continued, the conversation flowed a bit more easily, a bit more openly. Y/N felt the tension easing just a little, but she knew better than to let her guard down completely. This was still the Hightowers, after all. They were never off-duty, never fully relaxed.

As they walked out of the restaurant into the crisp night air, Gwayne turned to her, an amused smile on his lips. “You were bloody brilliant back there. I think you might have actually impressed them.”

Y/N shrugged, her face breaking into a grin. “Well, it’s about time someone shook things up around here, don’t you think?”

He laughed, slipping his hands into his pockets. “God, I really do need you, Y/N.”

She shot him a sideways glance. “Yeah, well, don’t go getting too soppy on me now, Hightower.”

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The campaign office was buzzing with a nervous, almost frantic energy. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, sweat, and anticipation. Papers were scattered across desks, phones were ringing off the hook, and the TV in the corner was blaring the election coverage at full volume.

The room was packed with volunteers, team members, and every random person who had decided they wanted a front-row seat to Gwayne Hightower’s political gamble.

Y/N stood by the window, staring out at the rain-slicked streets of Hackney. Her arms were crossed, her foot tapping against the floor in a steady rhythm that betrayed her nerves. She could feel the tension building in the room like a pressure cooker about to blow. This was it. Months of work, endless nights, arguments, laughter, and more cups of coffee than she could count — all leading up to this moment.

She glanced over at Gwayne, who was sitting in the center of the room, gripping a bright orange stress ball in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. His hair was slightly disheveled, his tie loosened, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. For the first time in weeks, he looked genuinely worried.

“Jesus, Gwayne, if you squeeze that thing any harder, it’s going to explode,” Y/N teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He gave a tight smile, his fingers tightening around the stress ball even more. “What, this?” he muttered. “This is keeping me from climbing out of the window and legging it down the street.”

She chuckled, walking over and plucking the glass of scotch out of his other hand. “And this?” she asked, taking a sip. “Liquid courage?”

“Something like that,” he muttered. “How’re we doing?”

Y/N glanced at the TV, where the talking heads were dissecting the election results, constituency by constituency. “Early counts look good,” she said, though her voice was steadier than she felt. “But it’s still too close to call.”

Gwayne nodded, his eyes flicking nervously to the screen. “Bloody hell. I haven’t felt this nervous since that time I accidentally set fire to the old headmaster’s garden at Eton.”

Y/N snorted. “You did what?”

“Long story,” he muttered, squeezing the stress ball again. “Involved fireworks and far too much brandy.”

She shook her head, laughing despite herself. “Remind me never to leave you alone with flammable objects.”

Across the room, one of the volunteers called out, “Turn it up! They’re about to announce something!”

Everyone fell silent, their eyes glued to the screen as the anchor shuffled his papers, looking far too pleased with himself. Y/N felt her stomach twist into knots. She glanced at Gwayne, who was sitting on the edge of his seat, knuckles white around the stress ball.

The anchor spoke, his voice calm and measured, “And now, the latest results coming in from Hackney South and Shoreditch…”

Y/N held her breath. This was it. The moment of truth.

Gwayne muttered something under his breath, his eyes wide, and she could feel the tension radiating off him like heat. “Come on, come on,” he whispered.

The anchor continued, “It appears we’re seeing a significant swing tonight. Early numbers suggest that the Liberal Democrat candidate, Gwayne Hightower, is making a strong showing in what was expected to be a closely contested race…”

A cheer went up from the room, and Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. But she knew better than to celebrate too early. “Still just early numbers,” she called out over the noise. “We’re not done yet!”

Gwayne turned to her, his face a mix of disbelief and hope. “We might actually pull this off,” he breathed.

She smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Might? Don’t you dare start doubting now. We’ve come too bloody far for that.”

He nodded, swallowing hard, and squeezed the stress ball once more. “Alright, alright. Deep breaths.”

Y/N chuckled. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack. Maybe lay off the scotch for a bit, yeah?”

He laughed, but it was a nervous sound. “Can’t promise that.”

Another volunteer rushed over, holding a phone up to Y/N. “Call for you,” they said breathlessly. “Someone from the party headquarters.”

Y/N took the phone, pressing it to her ear. “Yeah? What’s the news?”

She listened for a moment, her expression hard to read, and Gwayne felt his heart leap into his throat. “Y/N?” he asked, voice tinged with panic. “What is it?”

She hung up, turning back to him with a grin. “They’re saying it’s looking even better. We’ve got a real chance here, Gwayne.”

He exhaled sharply, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “God, I hope so.”

Y/N nudged him gently. “You’ve done the work, Gwayne. You’ve talked to people, you’ve listened. Now it’s in their hands.”

He nodded, looking around the room at all the people who had put their faith in him, who had worked tirelessly by his side. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

They both turned back to the TV, watching as the coverage continued, the tension building with every passing second.

GWAYNE HIGHTOWER HAS WON HACKNEY SOUTH AND SHOREDITCH.

The words flashed across the screen, and for a heartbeat, the entire room fell silent. The anchor’s voice echoed in the stillness, confirming the impossible — Gwayne Hightower had won. He was going to Westminster.

And then, the room exploded. Cheers erupted, people jumped from their chairs, and the air filled with the sound of shouting, laughing, and the popping of champagne corks. Y/N felt a wave of exhilaration rush through her as she was engulfed by a sea of hugs and high-fives from the volunteers, their faces lit up with joy and disbelief.

“WE BLOODY DID IT!” someone shouted, and another cheer went up, even louder this time.

Y/N turned to Gwayne, who was standing in the middle of the chaos, his mouth hanging open in shock. He still had the stress ball in one hand, but his grip had slackened, and the glass of scotch dangled precariously in the other. Slowly, a grin spread across his face, growing wider and wider until it seemed to take over his whole expression.

“We won!” he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “We actually fucking won!”

Before Y/N could react, Gwayne grabbed her and pulled her into a bear hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. She laughed, breathless, feeling the pure, unfiltered joy radiating from him. “Put me down, you idiot!” she shouted, but she couldn’t stop laughing.

He finally set her down, his eyes bright, his face flushed with excitement. “We did it, Y/N! We actually did it!”

She grinned back at him, her heart pounding with pride. “You bloody well did, Hightower. I told you you could.”

He took a deep breath, looking around at the crowd of volunteers, staffers, and supporters, all of them hugging, toasting, and celebrating like there was no tomorrow. “Right,” he announced, raising his voice above the noise. “This calls for a proper celebration.”

He made his way to the corner of the room, where a large cabinet stood. Y/N watched as he pulled open the doors to reveal a stash of bottles that looked like they’d been imported from some long-forgotten royal cellar. “Alright, who wants a drink?” he called out, holding up a bottle of whisky so rare it probably had its own pedigree.

A cheer went up, and Y/N laughed as Gwayne began pouring glasses of the finest whisky she’d ever seen. “I thought you were saving that for… I don’t know, the King’s visit or something,” she teased, accepting a glass.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Forget the King. This is better.”

The glasses were passed around, and Gwayne raised his own high, a look of pure triumph on his face. “To everyone in this room,” he began, his voice strong, clear, “to every single person who believed in this campaign when no one else did, who knocked on doors, who made phone calls, who put up with my bollocks day in and day out… thank you. This isn’t my victory. It’s our victory. Ours. And I promise you, I’m going to make every single one of you proud.”

Another roar of approval filled the room, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a lump rise in her throat. She watched Gwayne, standing there with his messy hair, his loosened tie, and that damned expensive whisky in his hand.

“To Gwayne!” she shouted, raising her glass high.

“To Gwayne!” the room echoed back, and they all drank, the whisky burning a warm path down her throat. She felt Gwayne’s arm slide around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, feeling a sense of relief and joy wash over her.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he murmured in her ear, his voice soft, almost lost in the noise of the celebration. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

She turned to look at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “Oh, please,” she replied with a grin. “You did all the hard work. I just yelled at you a lot.”

He laughed, a deep, happy sound, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of them, standing in the middle of that chaotic, jubilant room. “Well, keep yelling at me,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “Because I’ve got a feeling we’re just getting started.”

She smiled, a warm, genuine smile, and clinked her glass against his. “To Westminster,” she said.

“To Westminster,” he echoed.

But then, “Gwayne, it’s your father.”

Gwayne looked down at his phone, the name “Otto Hightower” flashing on the screen like a warning sign. He shot a glance at Y/N, who was still grinning from ear to ear, surrounded by the celebrating team. With a sigh, he swiped to answer the call.

“Father,” he said, raising his voice above the noise of the room, “calling to congratulate me, are you?”

Otto’s voice crackled through the phone, formal and clipped. “Of course, son. It’s a remarkable achievement. The family is very… proud. Your mother insisted we call. We’d like you to drop by the estate at Kew so we can celebrate properly.”

Gwayne’s face flickered with something Y/N couldn’t quite read. He glanced at her, then back at the phone. “Tonight?” he asked, a slight hesitation in his voice.

“Yes, tonight,” Otto replied. “Your sister is already on her way. It’s only right that we toast your success together, as a family. You’ve done well, Gwayne. It’s time to show the world that we stand united.”

Y/N caught his eye, sensing his indecision. She smiled, trying to keep it light. “Go on, Gwayne. They’re your family. Go celebrate with them.”

But Gwayne’s brow furrowed, his grip tightening on his phone. “Yeah, but…” he started, then turned away slightly, lowering his voice. “Look, Father, I appreciate it, really. But I think I might stay here, with my team. With the people who made this happen.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, then a slight huff of breath. “Gwayne,” Otto said, a touch of impatience creeping into his tone, “these are the optics you have to consider now. Come to Kew. Show your face. You’ve won a political seat, but don’t forget your roots. You’re a Hightower. It’s time to act like one.”

Gwayne closed his eyes, his jaw tensing. “I know,” he muttered. “I just… I need to think about it, alright?”

Otto’s voice softened just a fraction. “Just think about what this means for all of us, Gwayne. We’re waiting.”

The call ended with a click, and Gwayne stared at the screen for a moment before slipping the phone into his pocket. He turned to find Y/N watching him, an eyebrow raised.

“So?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual. “You off to the family estate then? Sounds like a big deal.”

Gwayne frowned, his expression conflicted. “I don’t know, Y/N,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, they want me to, but…”

Y/N gave him a playful nudge. “Go on, posh boy. It’s your moment. Go drink champagne in a fancy mansion, eat some ridiculous hors d’oeuvres, bask in the glory of finally being the golden child.”

But Gwayne shook his head, his eyes still fixed on hers. “It’s just… that’s not where I want to be tonight.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean? They’re your family. This is huge for them too.”

He sighed, leaning against the table, his gaze never wavering. “Yeah, but they weren’t the ones who stood by me through this whole bloody mess. They weren’t the ones knocking on doors, calming me down when I thought I was going to blow it, or making sure I didn’t look like a total prat on TV.”

Her grin softened, a bit of warmth creeping into her voice. “Gwayne…”

He took a step closer, his voice dropping low, just for her. “You’re the one I want to celebrate with, Y/N. You’re the one who I owe all of this to.”

She felt her breath hitch, her heart racing in her chest. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, trying to laugh it off, but her voice came out a little too shaky. “You did this, Gwayne. You won.”

Gwayne shook his head, determination in his eyes. “No, we won. Together. And I don’t want to go to some stuffy dinner with my family when I could be here, celebrating with you. With the people who actually matter.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a grin, a teasing light dancing in her eyes. “Alright then, MP,” she replied, leaning back with her arms crossed. “But if we’re going to celebrate, we’re going to do this right.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what does right look like to you?”

“No posh nonsense,” she declared with a smirk. “I’m in the mood for a proper drink. None of this ‘hand-picked by the King’s personal sommelier’ rubbish. We’re going to my favorite pub in Camden.”

Gwayne chuckled, clearly amused. “Camden? Really?”

“Yeah, really,” she shot back, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m talking Guinness, maybe some Negronis if we’re feeling fancy. Real drinks, in real glasses, in a place where they don’t care what your last name is or whether you’ve got a seat in Parliament.”

He laughed, already feeling a sense of relief wash over him. “Alright, alright, Camden it is. I’m game.”

She grinned, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door. “Come on, MP. Time to show you how the other half celebrates.”

Thirty minutes later, they walked into a well-worn pub in the heart of Camden, the sort of place where the tables were sticky, the music was too loud, and everyone shouted over it anyway. It was packed, warm, and smelled faintly of spilled beer and fried food. Perfect.

Y/N pushed through the crowd, leading the way with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where they were going. “Oi, Derek!” she called to the barman, a burly man with a thick beard and a friendly grin. “Two pints of Guinness, and keep them coming!”

Derek gave her a knowing nod. “Y/N, love! Been a while. You brought a friend?”

Y/N grinned back. “Something like that. This is Gwayne. Gwayne, Derek. Derek, meet Gwayne, our newest MP.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “MP, eh? Well, blimey, look at that! In my pub? Must be a special occasion.” He winked at Y/N. “What’s he doing slumming it here with the likes of us?”

Gwayne laughed, feeling more at ease than he had in weeks. “Trying to remember what real people are like,” he said, and Derek let out a hearty laugh, clapping him on the back.

“Good on you, mate. First round’s on me,” Derek declared, pouring their pints with a flourish.

Y/N grabbed the pints and handed one to Gwayne. “Cheers,” she said, clinking her glass against his.

“Cheers,” he echoed, taking a long, satisfying sip. The Guinness was cold and smooth, and he let out a contented sigh. “God, that’s good. I see why you like this place.”

She smirked, leaning against the bar. “Told you. No frills, just fun. And now, we celebrate properly.”

Gwayne’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Alright, then. Let’s have it. What’s next?”

She grinned. “Next, we toast. To winning. To not being a total prat. And to more nights like this.”

He laughed, raising his pint high. “To more nights like this,” he agreed, his voice filled with a happiness he hadn’t felt in ages.

They drank, they laughed, and they joked, and for once, Gwayne felt like he could actually breathe, like the weight of the election had finally lifted. He didn’t have to be the polished, perfect politician tonight. He could just be… himself.

Y/N leaned in, her voice low over the din of the pub. “See? Isn’t this better than some stuffy dinner with your dad?”

He smiled, his eyes locked on hers. “Much better,” he admitted, “though I think it has more to do with the company than the location.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere, MP.”

“Good,” he replied with a wink, “because I’m just getting started.”

They spent the rest of the night laughing and drinking, sharing stories and toasting to every little victory. By the time they were onto their third round of Negronis — and perhaps more than a little tipsy — Gwayne realized he hadn’t felt this free in years.

As the night wore on, the pub became louder, rowdier, and Gwayne found himself leaning closer to Y/N, his shoulder brushing against hers, her laughter in his ear. He looked at her, really looked at her, and wondered how he’d managed to get so lucky.

“So, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and sincere, “if I’ve got any shot at making it in this crazy world of politics… it’s because of you. You know that, right?”

She smiled, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, her eyes bright. “I think you’re doing just fine, Gwayne. But I’m glad to have helped knock a bit of sense into you.”

He laughed, reaching out to clink his glass against hers again. “To knocking some sense into me,” he agreed, his voice soft.

She grinned, and as their glasses met with a gentle clink, he felt that same familiar spark — the one that had been simmering between them for weeks. And tonight, with the pub alive around them and her laughter in his ear, he felt like this was exactly where he was meant to be.

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A few hours later.

Y/N stumbled out of the pub, her head spinning from the pints of Guinness and the Negronis they’d downed. Gwayne was beside her, his arm draped lazily around her shoulder, his laughter echoing in the cool Camden air.

“Alright, MP,” she slurred slightly, flagging down a cab that seemed to materialize from nowhere. “Time to get you back to Belgravia before you pass out on the pavement.”

Gwayne pouted, a tipsy grin spreading across his face. “But I’m not done celebrating,” he protested, swaying slightly.

She chuckled, tugging him towards the cab. “Mate, you’re done. Trust me. Come on, get in.”

She pushed him gently into the backseat and climbed in after him, giving the driver Gwayne’s address. The cabbie nodded, pulling away from the curb.

Gwayne leaned his head back, staring at her with a goofy smile. “You’re a bossy one, aren’t you?” he slurred, his eyes half-lidded.

“Someone’s got to keep your posh arse in line,” she shot back, smirking.

He laughed, the sound warm and careless, like he’d never had a worry in his life. “S’true,” he murmured, leaning his head against the window, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “You’re my rock, Y/N.”

She chuckled, feeling the warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Alright, Shakespeare, save it for when you’re sober.”

The cab wound its way through the quiet London streets, the lights blurring past them. Y/N’s head buzzed pleasantly, and she kept sneaking glances at Gwayne, who was still grinning like a fool.

Finally, they pulled up outside his townhouse, and the cabbie turned to look back at them. “Here we are, mate,” he said. “You alright getting out?”

Gwayne blinked, looking around like he’d just woken up. “Yeah, yeah, this is me,” he mumbled, fumbling with the door handle. He managed to push it open, but instead of getting out, he reached for Y/N’s hand, pulling her along with him.

“Oi, what are you doing?” she laughed, stumbling out after him. “You’re home. Get inside and sleep it off.”

He turned to her, his eyes wide and a bit desperate. “Wait, wait,” he said, his words slurring together. “I need you to… to punch in the code for me.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “You’ve forgotten the bloody code to your own house?”

He nodded with all the seriousness of a drunk man trying to seem responsible. “I need your help,” he insisted, tugging at her arm. “Can’t… can’t do it without you.”

Y/N sighed, but she couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. “Fine, fine. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

He beamed, still holding onto her arm like she was the only thing keeping him upright. “Knew I could count on you,” he said, leading her up the steps to the front door.

She punched in the code he mumbled under his breath, shaking her head in amusement. “Honestly, Gwayne, you’re hopeless.”

The door clicked open, and she nudged him inside, making sure he didn’t trip over the threshold. “Alright, you’re in,” she said, hands on her hips. “Now go upstairs and sleep, before you do something stupid.”

But he didn’t let go of her arm. Instead, he turned to face her, his expression suddenly serious, almost vulnerable. “Stay,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. “Just… for a bit. I don’t wanna be alone.”

Y/N’s heart did a weird little flip, and she swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “Gwayne, you’re pissed. You need to sleep it off.”

He shook his head, his grip on her arm tightening just a little. “Please,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers. “Just… just for a minute. I don’t want this night to end.”

She hesitated. “Gwayne, I…”

But his eyes were so earnest, so genuinely pleading, that she found herself nodding, unable to resist. “Alright,” she sighed, trying to sound annoyed but failing. “Just for a minute.”

He smiled, that boyish grin that made her insides twist, and he led her inside, closing the door behind them. The grand entrance hall was dimly lit, the soft glow of antique lamps casting shadows on the walls.

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. “Okay, you’re in,” she repeated, a bit breathless now. “Now what?”

He stepped closer, his hand still on her arm, his voice barely a whisper. “Thank you,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “For everything. For… believing in me.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, and she looked away, suddenly feeling very sober. “Yeah, well,” she muttered, “someone had to.”

He laughed softly, his thumb brushing against her arm. “I think… I think it had to be you.”

She met his gaze again, and for a second, she forgot where they were, forgot everything but the way he was looking at her, like she was the only thing that mattered.

“Gwayne,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Stay,” he repeated, his eyes dark, serious.

Y/N sighed then she left Gwayne sprawled out on the leather couch, one arm dangling off the side, his head leaning back with that drunken, lopsided grin still on his face.

“Yeah, sure,” she muttered to herself, looking around his ridiculously posh townhouse. “Just for a bit, and somehow I’m now in charge of making sure you don’t choke on your own tongue tonight.”

She glanced at him one more time. “Stay put, alright? I’m getting you some water.”

Gwayne gave a lazy thumbs-up, eyes half-closed. “Water… perfect idea. You’re brilliant, Y/N. Absolutely… magnificent,” he mumbled, slurring his words, his grin widening as if he’d just had the most profound thought.

She shook her head, smirking. “You’ll thank me in the morning, trust me.”

Y/N made her way toward the kitchen, weaving slightly as the room swayed around her. She was definitely feeling the effects of those Negronis. “Right,” she muttered under her breath, “just need to get some water. How hard can it be?”

She turned the corner and entered what could only be described as a space-age kitchen — all sleek chrome and glossy surfaces, like it had been designed by some avant-garde architect who’d clearly never boiled an egg in his life. She blinked at the sight of a state-of-the-art water system built into the counter, with more buttons and screens than the bloody cockpit of a plane.

“What the hell is this?” she muttered, frowning at the contraption. “It’s a water tap, not the bloody TARDIS.”

She poked at one of the buttons, and the display lit up with a series of choices: Still. Sparkling. Ice Cold. Room Temperature. Mineral Infused. pH Balanced. Alkaline. There was even an option for Artisanal Mountain Spring, which she was pretty sure was taking the piss.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, rubbing her temples. “Why does he need this much choice for a glass of water?”

She jabbed at the Still button, but nothing happened. She tried Room Temperature. Still nothing. The machine made a faint, mocking beeping sound that she swore was laughing at her. “Come on, you fancy piece of crap,” she growled, slapping the side of it. “Give me some bloody water!”

She pressed another button, and a small panel opened up, revealing even more buttons. “Are you kidding me?” she muttered, leaning closer, trying to make sense of the digital display that was now flashing at her like she’d accidentally triggered the launch codes for a nuclear missile.

“Alright, let’s try this…” she muttered, tapping another button labeled Dispense.

The machine hummed for a moment, then spat out a single drop of water. A single, mocking drop.

“You have got to be joking,” Y/N muttered, staring at the droplet like it had personally insulted her. “Come on, work, damn you!”

She tried again, this time holding the button down longer, and finally, a stream of water began to flow — freezing cold and spraying out far too fast, splashing over the side of the glass and onto her shirt.

“Bloody hell!” she yelped, jumping back and nearly slipping on the pristine marble floor. “Why is it so complicated to get a drink in this bloody house?”

Gwayne’s voice floated in from the living room, a lazy, amused drawl. “Y’alright in there, Y/N?”

She shot a glare in his direction, even though he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, fine!” she called back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just wrestling with your bloody spaceship tap!”

She finally managed to fill the glass without any more incidents and turned off the tap, which thankfully didn’t require any further button-pressing. Taking a deep breath, she made her way back to the living room, where Gwayne was now lying sideways on the couch, humming some Beatles tune to himself.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the glass into his hand. “Drink. You need water, or you’re going to wake up tomorrow feeling like a truck hit you. And I’m not in the mood to deal with your whining.”

He blinked up at her, his eyes glassy but grateful. “Thanks, Y/N,” he murmured, taking a sip. “You’re… amazing. Like, really. You know that?”

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, yeah. Drink up.”

He chuckled softly, downing the water like he hadn’t had a drink in days. “Seriously, though,” he continued, setting the glass on the coffee table, “don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She felt a flutter in her chest, but she kept her tone light. “Probably end up dehydrated on your fancy couch, for starters.”

He grinned, his eyelids drooping as the alcohol started to catch up with him. “Maybe. Or maybe I’d just… still be lost.”

Y/N’s breath hitched for a second, but she brushed it off with a chuckle. “Alright, enough with the confessions. Time for you to sleep.”

He nodded, his head lolling to the side. “Yeah… sleep sounds good,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut.

Y/N watched him for a moment, making sure he was actually dozing off and not about to get up and start another drunken adventure. “Goodnight, Gwayne,” she whispered, almost too softly to hear.

He mumbled something in his sleep, a smile still on his lips, and Y/N turned to leave, shaking her head. She’d gotten him home, hydrated, and onto his couch. Mission accomplished for now.

[asamiontop]

That kiss. It was… so close to the corner of her mouth.

Beatrice has learned to expect them—the cheek kisses. She’s learned how to accept them from Ava. The Halo Bearer’s zeal for life, the way she carries her love for the world in open arms, it all bolsters Bea’s faith in the Halo’s choice of host.

But Beatrice has no explanation with which to shield herself when the blinding light of Ava’s affection shines on her alone. Nothing to write off the suffusing warmth that burbles inside when Ava flashes her that megawatt smile and mutters a soft ‘Bea’ inside her airy laugh.

Beatrice is defenseless for the first time since she’d sworn never to be defenseless again.

And yet.

She stands in the muggy attic above their tiny dive bar, reeling from yet another assault—this one that much closer to catastrophic. She reaches up, measures the distance between her lips and the lingering warmth of Ava’s mouth by the width of her tremulous fingertips. Just one finger’s breadth away this time. Last time it was two.

Beatrice sighs. She is both terrified and thrilled. Ava is her undoing, that much she’s able to admit. A foe she cannot, will not, fight. She can’t say when it will happen or what more will occur, but she and Ava are a ticking bomb and all Beatrice can do is wait.

Beatrice is defenseless for the first time since she’d sworn never to be defenseless again. But for the first time in forever, she thinks that maybe—maybe it’s okay.

[azrielslittleslut]

"Gray Sweatpants"

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, pure filth, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), reader is ovulating, breeding kink, shadow play, pet names

Word Count: 3.1k

a/n: i am not responsible for what i write when i'm ovulating. that wasn't me... it was Patricia.

Enjoy!

The fire in the living room of your home was burning low, the embers crackling as you read a book on the couch. As you turned a page, you lifted your eyes to the clock above the mantle. It was already past midnight, and your eyes were growing heavy with sleep.

With a sigh, you stood from the couch and stretched. The blanket that had been draped over your legs fell to the ground, and you shivered as the cold air danced across your skin.

You wouldn’t be so cold if your mate was here, you thought. But he had been gone for three days on some mission, and you had been left alone. You were cold, and lonely, and obscenely horny-

You took a deep breath to settle yourself, focusing on calming the budding desire that was growing low in your belly. It was unfortunate timing that Azriel had been sent away on a mission during your ovulation cycle. Usually, you kept track of it, making sure that he would be here to take care of you and your desires during these few days. But you had lost track this time, and your mate wasn’t here.

Gods. Just the thought of him. He was so sexy, and muscular… and the way his cock would feel inside of you, the thick head of him hitting your-

“Fuck, Az,” you breathed as you made your way toward the bedroom. “Why can't you just come home already?” You were used to him being gone on missions- it was his job, after all. But he had never been away while you were ovulating, and you felt as if your entire body was going to burst if you didn't have his hands on you within the next five minutes.

You entered the bedroom, your mood suddenly sour. You threw yourself down onto the bed with a groan, your body tingling with unmet needs. You silently cursed Rhys for sending your mate away on some stupid mission, while you were left here alone, drowning in the crashing waves of desire.

You could take care of it yourself, but you knew that while it would make the urges go away for a while, you would still be left unsatisfied. You were never able to touch yourself as Azriel did. You were unable to give yourself the mind-shattering orgasms that your mate gave you regularly.

Still, it was better than nothing, and there was no telling when Azriel would be coming home. You quickly moved your hand down, pulling up your nightgown. You weren't in the mood to tease yourself tonight. You needed to get the job done quickly before you lost your mind.

Your fingers had just reached your upper thigh when you heard soft wingbeats from outside the window. Azriel's shadows swarmed the room, announcing their master's arrival.

With a squeal, you jumped off the bed, sprinting to the window to greet your mate as he landed through the large frame. His feet had barely touched the floor before you threw your arms around him, your face buried in his neck. Your eyes rolled back at the masculine scent of him- night-chilled mist, cedar, and... sweat.

You loved all of Azriel, but you were a clean person, and you never hugged him like this when he was sweaty. But gods the musk of him... The way those leathers hugged his muscled body in all of the right places, the way his siphons gleamed in the darkness, a sign of how powerful he is...

Stupid fucking hormones.

Az chuckled as he wrapped his strong arms around you. "Missed you too, love," he murmured into your hair. His shadows skimmed up your legs, their cold tendrils wrapping around your ankles and thighs. You wanted them to keep going up, up, up, until they touched your throbbing core to grant you some form of relief.

"Missed you more," you muttered, your words slurring as you were overwhelmed with the presence of your mate. You looked up at him, saw the way those full lips of his were curved into a smile, and decided you would have him right here and now.

You reached up to grab him by the shoulders, meaning to pull him down onto the floor because you didn't think you would make it to the bed.

Azriel grabbed your wrists, his grip gentle but firm. "Not tonight, angel," he said as he pressed a kiss to your hair. "It's been a long few days, and I'm so tired. I just want a bath and sleep."

You blinked up at him, forcing the haze of desire to leave your eyes. His face was paler than usual, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He was tired, you realized with a pang in your chest.

Though you wanted him so badly you could hardly think straight, he was still your mate, and his well-being was your top priority. If he wasn't in the mood, you would force yourself to gain some semblance of self-control so he could get the rest he so obviously needed.

"That's alright," you said, your voice surprisingly even. "I'm tired, too. Would you like me to help you bathe?"

Please say no. Please say no, you silently pleaded. You didn't think you would be able to control yourself if you saw his glorious body in the bathtub. But it would be strange if you didn't ask him, as it had become a routine for you to help him wash after long missions.

Azriel smiled as he made his way to the bathroom, his wings dragging on the floor slightly. "No, thank you," he responded, his tone full of exhaustion. "I will be in and out. Go ahead and get comfortable, baby."

You nodded distantly as you made your way back to the bed and got under the blanket. You heard the water running, followed by the sound of Azriel's leathers hitting the floor. You listened closely as the water rippled, a sign that he was in the bath, which meant he was naked. Your mouth watered at the thought of his cock-

No! You inwardly cursed yourself, breathing deeply, trying to focus on anything other than the sound of your exhausted mate innocently taking a bath. You could do this. You could be a good little mate and get your shit together for a few more hours.

You didn't know how long you sat there, your eyes locked onto the far wall, your body so tense you were sure you would be sore in the morning. You were pulled from your thoughts as you heard Azriel's light footsteps pad into the bedroom. You turned to look at him, a soft smile on your face, but that smile quickly turned into a look of predatory hunger as you saw what he was wearing.

Azriel was shirtless, his brown skin still damp from the bath, his Illyrian tattoos dark and gleaming. He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, the waistband sitting low on his hips, giving you a perfect view of his glorious V-line.

Your eyes went farther down, and you let out a soft moan at the sight of his cock. It was clear he wasn't wearing any underwear, as you could see the perfect outline of his proud length through the pants.

You decided two things at once. The first thing was that you never wanted Az to get rid of these pants.

The second thing was that you would do anything to get him to take them off.

Azriel's dark brows rose. "Like what you see, love?" he teased, his deep voice low and tired. His shadows swirled around him lazily, as if they too were exhausted beyond comprehension.

"Az," you said, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I've never seen those pants before. When did you get them?"

He toyed with the string on the front as he said, "I bought them last week. They looked comfortable, so I thought I would wear them to sleep." He gave you an innocent shrug, completely oblivious to the sinful path of your thoughts.

He must be tired. Az was always aware of your cues, both verbal and nonverbal. It was a rare occurrence indeed for him to miss the scent of your arousal.

You let out a breath, your fingers gripping the blanket so hard you swore it would rip. "I like them," you murmured, the tone of your voice dropping slightly.

Az tilted his head to the side, his hazel eyes squinting as he looked at you. "Are you alright, love?" he asked, his expression one of concern. "You're... vibrating."

Indeed, you could feel your body shaking, your teeth chattering with desire. "I'm- I'm fine, Az. Really. Just tired," you said through your teeth.

Just get in the fucking bed, Azriel, you wanted to shout. Stop asking questions.

Azriel's shadows swarmed you at once, a few of them lingering around his ear. He leaned forward slightly and inhaled deeply, his eyes rolling back into his head. "You're ovulating," he groaned. "Why didn't you say so?"

You eyed his shadows as they swarmed around your body. They always alerted Azriel to your condition, and it was obvious they had given you away tonight. "You're tired, Azriel," you whispered, moving back against the headboard. "I can wait until tomorrow."

Azriel smirked at you, all signs of his earlier exhaustion wiped away in an instant. He bit his lip as his eyes darkened with lust. He took a step forward, his muscular thighs straining against those damned pants. "Let me take care of you, love. I know how painful this can be," he murmured, his deep voice lower than usual. You had a thing for his voice, especially when it sounded like that. "Let me make my mate feel good."

You thanked all of the gods, the Mother, and the cauldron for blessing you with such an attentive mate.

Before you could think, you found yourself crawling off the bed and onto the floor. You crawled on your hands and knees to him, your mouth watering at the sight of his body in front of you. You stopped once you got to him, kneeling submissively at his feet. You raised up enough to pull on the waistband of the sweatpants with your teeth. "Can I taste?" you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

Azriel ran a hand through your hair, his touch gentle but possessive. "Is that what you want? You want my cock in your mouth?" he asked, his voice full of dominance. When you were like this, you loved his dominant side, and he always gave you what you desired.

You nodded frantically. "Yes, please!" you moaned, your fingers moving up to grasp the waistband.

"Then go ahead, baby. Taste me."

You wasted no time in pulling down his pants enough to reveal his cock. He was half-way hard, and you would normally take your time, teasing him with gentle licks and kisses along his length.

But you didn't have the patience for that tonight.

You grabbed him at the base as you wrapped your lips around him, your tongue licking up the small bead of pre cum on his tip. Azriel moaned as you started to bob your head, your hand stroking what you couldn't fit into your mouth.

He grabbed your head with both hands, twisting your hair up in his fist. "So fucking good, baby," he moaned, his head thrown back in pure bliss.

You smirked around his cock as you moved your hands up to his waist, your fingers pulling on his hips in a silent plea. Azriel understood your command, and his hazel eyes glowed with predatory intent as he looked down at you. "Four taps if it's too much," he said, his voice blending in with the shadows surrounding you. You could feel them swarming along your thighs and chest, but they were staying away from the spots you wanted them most.

As much as you loved his shadows pleasuring you, tonight, your pleasure belonged to Azriel alone.

You nodded as best as you could with his cock down your throat. His grip on your hair tightened as he began to thrust, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each rough movement.

You gagged and choked, but you kept going, loving the obscene sounds coming from your mate. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," he moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

With one hand, you ran your fingers along his stomach, loving the feeling of his abs tensing as he thrust into your mouth. With the other, you cupped his balls, massaging them gently, knowing it would drive him wild.

Azriel pulled away, his hands loosening their grip on your hair. You looked up at him with teary eyes, knowing you probably looked like a wanton whore. You had saliva running down your chin, and your hair was an outright mess, but you didn't care.

Tonight, you were his whore, his to use and breed.

Az grabbed you by the shoulders, lifting you up roughly so your lips met his. The kiss was rough, all teeth and tongue. You nipped at his bottom lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Why did you stop?" you asked breathlessly. "I was enjoying myself."

He kissed down your neck, biting down on your pulse point as he walked toward the bed. "The only place I'm coming tonight is deep inside that tight little cunt of yours."

His filthy words caused a fresh wave of desire to flood your veins, and you dug your nails into his shoulders. "Please, Az," you begged, grinding your throbbing core against his cock. "I need you so bad."

"I know, baby girl," he whispered, leaning down to press a final kiss to your lips. "I know what you need tonight. Do you trust me?"

You bit your lip as you nodded, expecting him to lay you down gently on the bed. You gasped as he spun you around and threw you onto the mattress so you were lying on your stomach. You struggled up onto your elbows, looking at him over your shoulder. "Az, what-"

You stopped as you saw him standing behind you, his glorious wings spread out behind him. His shadows filled the room as he unleashed his power, his hazel eyes glowing as he looked at you spread out for him on the bed. "Face down. Ass up."

Pure and utter command laced his words, and you found yourself obeying, trusting him to take care of you.

Azriel moved your nightgown up enough to give him access. You moved to remove it completely, but you were stopped as his shadows pinned your hand to the bed. "Don't move. Let me make you feel good," he murmured as he ran his hands along the flesh of your ass. You had not put on any underwear earlier, and you quickly thanked your past self for that decision.

You moaned as he slapped your right ass cheek, the sting followed by nothing but pleasure. "You're so perfect," he muttered. "So wet and ready for me. I don't even think I need to prepare you. I bet I could slip right into this wet pussy."

"Please," you moaned into the sheets. "Need you now." He was big enough that you usually needed him to stretch you out with his fingers before fucking you. But you could feel your wetness dripping down your thighs, and a dark part of you wanted to feel the pain as he stretched you out.

Azriel lined himself up with you, moving his cock through your slick folds to coat himself. He gripped your ass with a hand as he buried himself into your tight heat in a single thrust. You screamed as he did so, your fingers tangling in the sheets as much as his shadows would allow.

He set a punishing pace, his balls slapping against your clit with each rough thrust. "You. Feel. So. Fucking. Good." He accentuated each word with a thrust, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises. "This cunt is mine. All mine."

"Yes, yes, yes," you moaned, your eyes rolling back as he hit deep. "Don't stop."

The sound of skin slapping on skin mixed with your screams and moans was so sinful, but you loved it. You loved the way the head of his cock hit your cervix with each thrust. You loved the way he could meet your needs in a way that nobody else could. He was yours and you were his, and nothing would ever change that.

"What's my name, love?" he groaned, his voice breathless, his thrusts sloppy. "Say my fucking name."

"Azriel!" you screamed as you felt your climax approaching. Distantly, you had an odd thought, one that only came when you were ovulating. A need that you only cared about being met during this part of your cycle. "Fill me up, Azriel. Get me pregnant."

You both drank the contraceptive tea, so pregnancy wasn't necessarily on the table. But right now, the thought of carrying his child, of being so full of his come that it dripped out of you, sent you into a near madness.

"Oh, shit. Oh, fuck," Azriel whimpered, his hand moving down to rub your clit. "Come for me, baby. Come now."

You screamed his name as you came, your body straining against his shadows as you trembled. With a final, hard thrust, Azriel slammed into your cunt, warm ropes of his come filling you.

After a few moments, Azriel commanded his shadows to release you, and he gently raised your wrist to press kisses along your skin. "I'm sorry I wasn't home earlier," he said, the exhaustion entering his voice again. "Your ovulation happened earlier than usual this time."

You turned over so you were on your back, looking up at him with a tired smile. You playfully put your feet on his chest as you said, "It's alright. You made up for it."

Az chuckled as he massaged your legs. "Were you really going to go to sleep feeling like that?" he asked, his gaze soft. "I know how... needy you can get."

You playfully kicked him. "I was going to let you sleep," you said, pushing yourself up on your hands as you moved your feet down. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss on the warm skin of his chest. "But then I saw you in those damned pants, and I couldn't help myself."

Azriel laughed as he pulled you down on the bed, his body warm as he tucked you into his side. He draped a wing protectively around you as his shadows covered you. "In that case," he said, "remind me to wear them more often."

You laughed tiredly at his teasing, your eyes closing as exhaustion claimed your body. You were finally sated, and you were in your mate's arms, so sleep would come easily tonight.

Your dreams that night were filled with your shadowsinger wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants.

general tag list: @quiet-loser @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

@anarchiii @inkedinshadows @panther-girl-124

@scorpioriesling

[totalswag]

midnight adventures — RAFE CAMERON

authors note here's a little something sweet for you guys. soft!rafe will forever have my heart. happy reading lovies.

— taglist if you want to be notified whenever i post leave a comment and you’ll be added.

summary having trouble sleeping throughout the night and text rafe if you can go on a drive to relax your mind

warning(s) trouble sleeping and rafe being the best boyfriend.

"Please sleep," you say to yourself, on the verge of tears, staring at the ceiling and running your hands through your hair with frustration.

It was three in the morning.

You've recently struggled to sleep at night, falling asleep around four in the morning, getting five hours of sleep, and yet feeling exhausted during the day.

Rolling over on your side, a huff escapes your lips as you reach your arm up to the nightstand, where your phones are plugged in. You take it off the charger and call your boyfriend, Rafe.

He responded within five seconds, sounding sleepy and worried. After you've finished stating your sleeping problems, he says he'll be there in ten minutes.

Rafe's truck can be heard from around the corner; a smile forms on your face. You put your slides on and one of Rafe's sweatshirt on then walk downstairs to the front door.

You snuck out of the house quietly and hopped into the passenger seat, greeted by the familiar perfume of Rafe's cologne combined with the subtle aroma of leather.

"Hey," he whispered softly, reaching over to offer your hand a comforting squeeze. "Ready?"

"Yeah," you replied, beaming warmly at him. "Thank you for this."

"Anything for you," he said, turning the truck into gear and driving away from your home turning out of the neighborhood.

He hands you his unlocked phone for music; you're usually on aux in his car. You pick the first song you liked and would set the mood.

You feel his right hand on your thigh, the thumb gently caressing. You let yourself relax under his touch.

"You want to grab something to eat?" He asks out of the blue, checking his shoulder before changing lanes and glancing at you for a response.

"Can we go to the store?" You recommended pointing to the store across the street. 

"Of sure, Baby.”

After getting some snacks, Rafe drove to your favorite spot, the beach. Generally this is your favorite spot to go whenever you want to get away from everything.

Rafe backed into the parking area so you could face the water in the dim light. You took the two blankets he keeps in the second row as he moved around to open your door.

Rafe drew you closer to him once the two of you had settled in. You looked up at him, admiring how blessed you were to have him.

"If you want to kiss me, just tell me," he quips, his eyes fixed on the water. You hit him in the chest, making him laugh, then kissed him.

"What's keeping you up all night princess?" He asks quietly, gently pushing your hair away from your face and examining your expression.

Rafe loathes witnessing you struggle to fall asleep or feel this way. Regardless of the circumstance, he has always been there for you in an instant. You find him most admirable in that regard. You are very fortunate to have him.

"I honestly don't know what's causing it," you shrugged, "stress might be the main factor or something else" was the only response you could give him right now. I'm not sure what is causing you to stay up late and never get enough sleep.

Rafe furrows his brows.

"You know I'd come sleep with you if you had problems falling asleep, and I don't want you to lose sleep. You value your sleep, I know that." You laugh at how much you value your sleep—you really do.

After a while, a few subjects are discussed. A cold breeze blows through the night, and the sound of the waves is calming. You can sense your own body becoming more at ease.

In silence, Rafe and you lay together covered by blankets. It seemed like the ideal moment. You drew closer to him— he also smells good.

"You almost ready to go?" Rafe asks curiously, "I don't want your parents waking up to you not in your bed" you stopped yourself after he finished his sentence, nodding. 

"Yeah we couldn't have that" you joke.

He turned on the ignition after the two of you got comfortable in the truck, allowing it to warm up for five minutes as you had been sitting on the bed with the truck turned off for an hour. 

It took ten minutes to make the drive back to your home. You didn't want to spend the remainder of the night apart from Rafe. Compared to before you saw him, you felt calmer and more content. 

"Can you stay?" If you think about it, what you're asking kindly amounts to pleading.

He replies sarcastically, "How can I refuse?" and then leans in to give you a kiss on the lips before turning off his truck.

Quitely entering your house with Rafe closely behind you. You turned your phone flashlight on incase of running into stuff and waking everyone up.

When you got to your room you took your slides and socks off your feet then flopping on your bed. Rafe took his shirt off along with shoes and socks. You opened your arms waiting for Rafe to get into bed with you.

"Don't worry, I'm coming," he says, placing his shirt on the desk chair across the room.

"Oh, that's what she said," you laugh.

Fake laughing, Rafe says, "Haha so funny" as he slides under the covers.

Snuggling closer to Rafe, you let out a sigh of relief as you kissed his naked chest several times and drew invisible hearts before feeling your eyes close.

You yawn with exhaustion, "Thank you for keeping me company tonight, baby, it means a lot, I love you."

"I love you too princess and that's what I'm supposed to do, take care of my beautiful girlfriend when she's in times like this."

You shared a final kiss with Rafe and then dozed out in each other's arms.

my taglist!

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[neon-junkie]

How would TBB react to seeing the reader about to leave on a night out dressed up in a super hot outfit?

Gender-neutral reader, but feminine presenting. Words like 'beautiful' and 'pretty' are used!

Hunter - Even with half of his face tattooed, he still manages to blush through the thickness of the ink. - He's truly lost for words. - Hunter has an adorable stutter as he compliments, "wow, you look… nice- I mean, incredible. Good. Beautiful?" - Hunter then facepalms as he scolds himself for picking "nice" as his first compliment. Ugh, you look so much more than nice! - You'll both be giggling as Hunter takes a deep breath, and begins going into detail about how good you look, highlighting the specific parts that really stand out to him. - You're heading out with friends, but Hunter is quietly hinting that he wants to come along. Totally not because he's jealous or anything, but because he hopes to meet your friends, right? The friends that he's met several times before? Yeah! - Tell him that you'll still be looking this good when you come back home later tonight, and he'll get the hint. - However, he may need to leave a fresh mark or two on your neck, just to get the point across that you're taken.

Echo - This poor, poor man is going to turn the deepest shade of red when he finally sees you. - Why, just WHY did you have to wear that specific outfit that he loves so much?! And you're going out without him too?! Oh, what a tease! - Echo is lost for words as he gushes over you. He feels like it's his wedding day - How is he this lucky? How did he land an angel like you? - There's a tear in his eye as you smother him in kisses, reassuring him that you're all his, that you're the lucky one for being with him, that you can't wait to come home and snuggle up with him later. - Echo doesn't ask for much, but he would like to be kept in the loop on your whereabouts. Purely for your own safety! - "And when you reach the next bar, just comm me. Your friends have my comm number too, don't they? If anything goes wrong, and you want picking up-" blahblahblah. - One final smother in reassuring kisses, and you're good to hit the town!

Wrecker - His mouth instantly hangs open, his eyes turn wide, and his facial expression swiftly turns into a grin as he comments, "HOT!!" - You know in cartoons where the character's mouth drops open, and they begin howling and barking? Yeah, that's Wrecker. - Seriously, you look hot, and Wrecker's going to ensure that you know it. - "Look at you! I can't believe I got myself an angel as sweet as you!" - He'll mention how he's sad that he's not tagging along, but he'll assure you that it's important you spend your time with your friends. - Wrecker isn't as clingy as he seems. After all, he'll be right here, waiting for your return. - And when you do return, all your hangover needs will be met. A tall glass of water waiting for you, a midnight snack, breakfast in bed, and a big buff man to cuddle you back to health!

Tech - This will go one of two ways: - Option one: Tech eyes you up and down, and with a firm nod, he comments, "that is suitable attire for your evening. I hope you enjoy yourself." - Option two: Tech's brain short circuits. He can barely muster up a thought, let alone a comment. Radio silence, but his expression says it all. - Either way, Tech is more than impressed with your outfit choice, and how stunning you look. He just… struggles to find the words, like a deer in the headlights. - Give him a few moments, and you'll be met with suitable praise. "How exquisite you look, a truly elegant and radiant creature." - Tech can't pinpoint one specific word to describe how beautiful you look, so instead, he selects the most complex and in-depth ones. He doesn't want to rely on a 'standard compliment.' - A few kisses later, and you're off to meet your friends. All the while, Tech begins pacing around the Marauder like a lost puppy. He needs to keep himself occupied until you return!

Crosshair - He's instantly thirsty for you, smiling cheekily as he eyes you up, gawking at the sight of you. - Crosshair has a way with words, and spews out his praise, all whilst kneading at your waist, his hands trailing down to grab your ass whilst he steals a handful of kisses from you. - And then it dawns on him… - You're going out with your friends tonight, not him… - Jealousy swiftly takes over, and his compliment turn into teasing (yet petty) jabs. Nothing to hurt your feelings, though. - "Any reason why you're wearing this tonight? Do you need more attention? Am I not enough for you?" - Whilst his tone is teasing, there's a desperate need for validation. - Yes, he knows you'd never be stupid and hurt him, but… can you please remind him one more time? - Don't be surprised when you leave, and minutes later, Crosshair sends you a holotext. "Comm me if you need anything, Beautiful."

[aklaustaleteller]

@ghayda0 requested via submission: Hi, please ignore if you’re not taking requests. Klaus is out all day. Literally from morning to midnight and when he comes back, Y/N is very pissed at him and giving him the silent treatment. At first Klaus’s amused by her actions, thinking Y/N is just being bratty but when she starts tearing up, maybe mid argument, he sees that’s she’s genuinely hurt. Maybe it was their anniversary or her birthday and he forgot. Can be smutty if you want to be, I mean he has to make it up somehow ;)

Entirety of Eternity

Waiting and waiting for Klaus to return home, Y/n's grasp on reality soon slipped and she fell into a sad, sad slumber. But then Klaus finally comes back, and he doesn't know what he's done wrong -- and Y/n won't tell him. Until she does, shouting at him how the night clearly wasn't anything special to him. And now, all Klaus wants is to show her just how much she, and their relationship, truly mean to him.

Warnings - Smut and some mentions of blood. Word Count - 3.3k

Not super proud of the way I wrote this one, but I'm pretty certain that it isn't that bad (please tell me it isn't) And thank you for requesting this -- I hope you enjoy reading it!

Y/n was sat on one end of the dining table, her face resting in her quite sweaty palms as she waited for her ears to finally perk up at the sound of the front door to the mansion opening. But it was beginning to cross the two-hour mark and still, there was no sound.

Every once in a while, the sound of her earrings' tiny bells would chime in her ears as she'd change her position to get more comfortable. At least as comfortable as she could on a wooden chair.

A deep wine-red dress adorned her body, pooling on the ground around her feet as she sat. Delicate jewellery hung from her ears, her wrists and a dainty necklace rested just below her collarbone. Sighing defeatedly, she let her head lay atop her arms on the dining table, looking at the polished plates in front of her and then at the empty seat across from her.

Tonight was nothing special, at least not to Klaus considering the fact that he had yet to return home. But it was to her. After all, this was the day that he had turned into a hybrid himself, and then turned her into one as well – justifying it with the purpose that he just wanted to spend the rest of eternity with her.

This was just the fifth year, and already he was forgetting their anniversary.

Maybe this wasn't so special after all. But when you've got the entirety of eternity on your hands, surely you'd try and celebrate as many occasions as possible to keep things special and ...to keep their value.

The clock rang throughout the empty house, finally hitting one in the morning and he still wasn't standing across from her. And she was getting too close to doubting if he even will tonight.

And even if it wasn't so special to him, shouldn't he have listened to her when she'd so excitedly told him to return home early tonight as she'd have something special waiting for him? Wouldn't matter anymore because all the food that she'd cooked herself had gone cold, and the candles she'd set up had burned down to the wick.

The dust had begun to settle on the exposed crockery, the moon had hidden itself behind the clouds and her heart had begun wilting away inside her chest.

She didn't quite realise when her hold on reality slipped and she fell into a sad slumber, but she woke up to the feel of a hand on her arm and a soft voice coaxing her back to life.

"There you are, my darling," Klaus smiled, already kneeling beside her so he was face to face with her. "Why didn't you go to bed?"

Y/n looked at him with eyes that were screaming how could he have the guts, the audacity to ask her that and so callously pretend that he hadn't just come home past midnight despite her sweet request that went against his act.

But when her shouts fell on deaf ears, she simply turned the other way from where Klaus was sitting and stood up. "The dinner's gone cold... I'd suggest you warm it up before eating, it'd taste better," she told him as she walked up the stairs, her gaze empty but her blood heating up rapidly.

Klaus looked at her as she walked away, amusement filling him up to the brim at her antics. Yes, she'd asked him to return early but it was for no special occasion, and he'd gotten himself in a rather sticky situation, so why was she upset out of the blue?

He was even sure that she his reasoning in someone's red blood covering him from head to toe, beginning to dry up. And he wished that she'd clean him up like every other time, so he decided to eat first. Give her some time to change her clothes and get comfortable for the night before he could go over to her and ask her innocently to help him clean himself off.

So he sat and ate, his eyes closing every once in a while at the feeling of the home cooked meal filling him up with all the love he could digest.

Rinsing off his dishes, Klaus sped up the stairs and into the bedroom he shared with Y/n as her lover, a frown settling itself between his brows when he caught her sitting in front of the vanity, lost in some thought as she glared at a broken lipstick.

"What's wrong, my love?" Klaus asked her, concern lacing his voice as he walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders as he locked his eyes with hers in the mirror.

His frown only deepened further when she didn't reply and began removing her jewellery, looking at him with big eyes trembling with fury. He didn't move, not until she was getting up and moving towards the bed, which had him following her hot on her heels.

"C'mon, it's not the right time to be a brat, sweetheart," Klaus joked, chuckling to himself but stopped when she shot him a look sharp enough to make him flinch.

"Just tell me what's happened!" Klaus insisted, kneeling in front of her and holding her hand, ignoring the fact that she didn't weave her fingers through his' and pick his hand up to press a kiss on his knuckles like she usually did.

"Where were you?" She asked, forcing her voice to be at a bay.

"Well, some newbies truly thought that they could have my head on a sword for them to take home to their master,” he chuckled. “And their plan was quite impressive, dare I say,” shrugging he said, passing her a grin which, expectedly, wasn’t reciprocated. 

“I apologise for not coming home earlier,” he sighed. But he knew that she knew that he truly wasn’t, for he didn’t even yet realise the density of this grave mistake he had made. And when she continued with her silence, Klaus finally cracked. 

“It’d not as if tonight’s anything special!”

And right then, Y/n heard something crack inside her. Possibly her dead heart. 

“I know you wanted me to return early tonight and I’m sorry that I didn’t, I truly am!” He almost whined, trying to show her how unreasonable she was being as he started pacing the room. “But this has happened before and you’ve never been this upset, so just tell me what have I done wrong!” 

He felt quite embarrassed once he was done shouting due to her lack of response, and sighed once more before walking towards her.

“It was our anniversary,” she started, quickly glancing at the clock, “yesterday.”

Klaus stopped in midst of his way to her, his heart dropping in his stomach as he finally found himself at a loss of words. His mouth moved, but nothing came out except for some incoherent stutters. 

“Forget it. It was nothing special,” she gritted through her teeth, not wanting her anger to get the best of her but she could feel it slipping out of her grasp.

“Darling – I,” Klaus stuttered, looking at the floor, wishing it’d remind him how to speak. “I’m so sorry darling,” Klaus breathed, his gaze turning doe-eyed as the realisation set in. 

“No you’re not!” Y/n shouted, getting off the bed to walk towards him. “You are not sorry, Klaus. You clearly don’t care!”

Hot tears were lined up against her lower lashline, making it hard for her to see clearly.

“You were showing that last night meant nothing to you for so long and you even said it! It was no special occasion!” She yelled, her voice shaking as her brain debated whether she was trying to convince herself about that, or him. 

And the way she was talking about their anniversary in a way that it truly had passed and that it was the next day, was only breaking his heart worse. 

“Darling our anniversary means the world to me,” he desperately said. “I’d just carelessly forgotten about it but please don’t think that it doesn’t mean anything to me,” he whispered, his eyes aching to meet with hers but she just wouldn’t let it happen, looking to the side. 

But the moment those words left  his mouth, a bitter chuckle escaped her mouth as she finally looked him in the eyes. 

“Can you hear yourself Klaus?” She asked him, shaking her head. “If it did mean anything to you, you wouldn’t have forgotten about it!” She told him, fisting her hand to prevent herself from ripping her hair out of her scalp. 

“Please let me make it up to you, darling,” Klaus begged, his own tears threatening to spill. “I’d been a bastard to do such a thing but please let me show you how much you mean to me,” his voice went meek as he lowered his head to meet her eyes. “How much this,” Klaus whispered, motioning his hand to point at her and then at himself, “means to me,” he finished, cautiously cupping her face in his rough hands. 

And he breathed in relief when she leaned into his touch, a tear rolling down her cheek. 

“I cooked us a meal, lit up candles and I only wore this dress so you could take it off,” she admitted, a tinge of pink rising on her cheeks, betraying her sadness. “And you just had to go and mess everything up,” she sighed, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him, clinging to his torso while resting her face in the cervix of his neck, ignoring the dried blood that covered his clothes and exposed skin. 

“And I’m so sorry darling,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I swear I’ll never do something like this again,” he smiled, swaying them side to side. 

Y/n detached herself from him then, her hair a bit ruffled due to his touch. “Please don’t,” she chuckled, pressing a quick kiss on his lips before weaving their fingers together and walking towards the bathroom. 

“You better not show up some day covered in your own blood,” Y/n warned him as she sat him on the bathroom counter and wetted a towel. 

She began wiping the blood off of him with ease, having done this a million and more times by now. And she’d just wiped down his neck when she realised that he had way more blood on him that she’d expected, and some in his hair as well.

“Why don’t you just take a shower? You genuinely have blood everywhere, hell it’s even in your hair,” she laughed and didn’t wait for his answer as she went on to turn on the shower and nodded her head at him, urging him to get in already. 

“You’re not joining me, are you?” Klaus asked, teasingly and nervously. 

“You wish, don’t you?” She grinned before walking out, her ears picking up on him mumbling how she very well knew that he did. 

And Y/n had just been sitting on the bed, waiting for him when he finally walked out of the shower, in a towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. And his drenched curls stuck to his forehead while water shone off of his chiselled chest, a teasing smirk on his mouth as he looked at her while she took him in.

He began walking towards her, a certain glint in his eyes as he watched her shut off the book in her lap and place it on her bedside table. Once he stood beside her, he took her hands in his and began moving so that she’d stand up and walk with him. 

Leaning in, he hovered his mouth over hers before tilting his head slightly so that he was whispering in her ear.

“You said you’d only worn this dress so I could take it off… yes?” He asked her, beginning to sway the two of them across the room, listening in to hear her heartbeat picking up while her heavy breath fanned his neck. 

Y/n hummed in response, her eyes fluttering close when he began pressing feather light kisses up her neck. She looked at him with intrigue when he stood the both of them in front of the mirror, looking at her with the slightest smirk from behind. 

“Gonna still let me take you up on that offer, darling?” he asked, his fingers dancing across her shoulders until she nodded her head, and whispered a small yes. 

“Gonna let me show you how much truly special you are to me?” He asked again, clearly teasing her as he fingers travelled to her back. He pressed his mouth against her jaw when she nodded again, eyes still on her in the mirror as he began nipping at her skin, leaving behind the very first hickey. 

He undid the chain of the dress, letting it slump off of her torso and expose her naked breasts to him. No bra, he grinned, licking the bruising skin on her jaw as a blush creeped up on the highs of her cheeks. 

From behind, his hands slithered across her skin, from her back to now her breasts, flicking the hardened nipples as he littered love bites all over her neck. 

He made sure that while he touched her, his eyes remained locked with hers. She knew after so many years with him that he preferred eye contact during such intimate moments, that he preferred to see how much effect he had on her – how he had her at his mercy just by touch. 

“Klaus,” she breathed with pleading eyes and let her head fall against his chest as he began to force the rest of her dress to slip off of her figure. 

“Darling,” Klaus smiled, turning her around once she’d stepped out of the dress that was merely a pool on the floor now. He picked her up, bridal style and walked over to their bed, laying her on it gently unlike other times when he’d roughly toss her on it. After all, he had some apologising to do tonight.

Moving to hover above her, Klaus resumed his kisses and marks, slipping lower and lower on her body until her fingers were clutching his curls while he bit lightly on the lowest point of her stomach. 

“Stop all this teasing now, Klaus,” Y/n asked of him, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him with a rather scolding look as he looked back at her with mischievousness swimming in his eyes.

“Only because I’m truly sorry,” Klaus grinned at her, teasing her for the final time before he pressed his mouth against her aching core, licking up her hole to her clit, spreading her arousal before he could actually begin. 

Y/n’s breathing hitched and a moan escaped her mouth when she felt him increase his pace a bit. His fingers dug into the skin on her hips as he kept his hold tight on her, forcing himself as close to her pussy as he could, his nose breathing in her scent and tongue lapping up her wetness. 

“Oh Klaus,” she whined when he shifted all his attention on her clit, sucking on it until he began feeling a tremor coursing through her thighs. 

He went back to licking up her arousal then, wanting to prolong her orgasm to give her a good one instead. And his own grunts began to vibrate against her core when he began to rub against the bed, causing her arousal begin dripping down his chin. 

“You taste fucking amazing, darling,” he told her as he pushed a finger inside her with ease, quickly adding another one at the realisation of just how open and ready he’d got her dawned on him. 

Y/n mewled above him, her moans turning into louder groans as he pushed himself against her core again, flicking her clit with his tongue while pumping his fingers inside her at a fast pace. Her eyes fell shut as the knot in her belly began to move lower and lower, a pleasing and burning sensation coursing through her body, causing her to begin shaking. 

Her thighs instinctively closed shut around Klaus’ head, her hands pushing against his head to get away from him, making him increase his pace even more. 

“Klaus, please!” She cried out to him, begging for release while her back arched off the bed, her eyes flying open when Klaus detached his mouth from her, keeping his fingers at work regardless. 

“Look at me,” he breathed, her arousal smeared across his mouth, along with a couple strings connecting his mouth and her core.

And he went right back to messing with her now puffy clit once he had her eyes on him. Noises of his tongue licking her up and down began to fill the room along with the ones coming from him fingering her, and her hips stuttered to move just once more before she was crying out, trying with all her might to get away from his mouth as she grew more and more sensitive as he made her ride out her orgasm. 

Klaus finally stopped after a couple more kitten licks then, crawling back up to her to kiss her. And he had just cupped her jaw when she flipped them over, now straddling his naked hips as the towel remained lying near the foot of the bed. 

And she began lining his hardened cock against her pussy, slowly sinking down on him until he was fully inside her. She placed her hands on top of his which were situated on her waist and then she began moving up and down, increasing her pace with each jump. 

“Only because I’m forgiving you,” she lazily grinned at him, making him chuckle hoarsely.

Klaus’ hands slowly slithered up her torso then, and cupped her breasts as their bouncing in his face was going to make him reach his high embarrassingly fast. 

And when he noticed her pace slowing down, he placed his hold back on her waist to hold her in place while he thrusted up into her, fucking her well enough for her to lean forward and hover over him with her eyes clenched shut. 

“Fucking hell,” Klaus gritted as her breasts were now back in his face, bouncing so prettily that he couldn’t help but take one of her nipples in his mouth to tease her into another orgasm now. 

“Oh I’m gonna cum again,” she moaned close to his ears, and it was enough to make him slip his hand between their connected bodies and rub her clit, all while he felt himself growing closer and closer to tipping over the edge himself. 

“Give it to me darling – give it to your husband,” Klaus groaned as he felt her walls clench around him, her orgasm slipping past her entrance and onto the base of his cock, making him spill inside her with a loud moan.

Making a few more deep and hard thrusts, Klaus finally stopped, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy as Y/n laid on top of him, wrapping her arms around his torso. 

“I fear you’ll need another shower, Klaus,” Y/n giggled, laughing harder when he sped both of them into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, kissing her with a wide grin on his own mouth. 

“Please buy more dresses just for me to take them off, my love,” Klaus told her, his teasing grin turning into dropped jaw when her arse brushed against him, eliciting an even deeper moan from him when she pressed herself further into him and began peppering kisses across his chest, nipping at the skin every once in a while just to hear him hiss.

“For the entirety of eternity, yes?” She grinned, yelling in surprise when he pushed her against the wall and pressed his mouth on hers, mumbling a hoarse ‘yes’ as she wrapped her legs around his waist.   

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hey there! Just found your profile and I really love your content, and since I saw your requests were always open, what about a Deadpool x Fem!Reader were their first encounter is during one of Deadpool's battles, and once the reader takes up an offer of rooming she saw on the newspaper, she finds out she's roommates with him now and has to put up with his antics? I noticed the CRIMINAL lack of Deadpool fanfic and it hurts😭🙏

Unexpected Roommates

The sound of gunfire echoed through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable crash of metal hitting concrete. You peered cautiously around the corner, heart pounding as you tried to make sense of the chaos unfolding before you.

There, in the midst of the wreckage, stood a man in a red-and-black suit, dual katanas in hand, surrounded by a small army of mercenaries. It was like something straight out of a comic book, except it was happening right in front of you, in the gritty underbelly of the city.

“Alright, who’s next?” the man—Deadpool, you realized with a start—quipped, twirling one of his swords with a flourish as he eyed the remaining thugs. Despite the danger, there was an almost playful air about him, like this was just another day at the office.

You had only heard of Deadpool in passing—rumors about a mercenary who was as unpredictable as he was deadly—but seeing him in action was something else entirely. And yet, despite the absurdity of the situation, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

One of the mercenaries lunged at him, but Deadpool was faster, sidestepping the attack with ease before dispatching his opponent with a quick flick of his wrist. Blood splattered across the alley, and you winced, pressing yourself against the wall to stay out of sight.

Unfortunately, your attempt at stealth was in vain. The last of the mercenaries fell, and Deadpool, now apparently free of distractions, turned his attention to you. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, sheathing his swords as he sauntered over, “what do we have here? A damsel in distress? Or just an innocent bystander with a bad sense of timing?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he stopped in front of you, his masked face tilting slightly as he examined you. Up close, he was even more intimidating—taller than you expected, with an energy that crackled in the air around him.

“Uh… neither?” you finally managed, your voice a little shaky. You cleared your throat, trying to muster some semblance of composure. “I was just… passing through.”

“Passing through, huh?” Deadpool echoed, leaning in slightly. “Interesting place for a midnight stroll, but who am I to judge? I mean, it’s not like *I* ever do anything reckless.” He straightened up, giving you a mock salute. “Well, don’t let me keep you. But if you ever find yourself in need of a charming, devilishly handsome mercenary, you know where to find me.”

Before you could respond, he spun on his heel and started walking away, whistling a jaunty tune as if he hadn’t just left a pile of bodies in his wake.

Shaking off the encounter, you quickly decided it was time to get the hell out of there. You took one last glance at Deadpool’s retreating figure before ducking out of the alley, eager to put as much distance between you and whatever mess you had just stumbled into.

A few days later, you found yourself standing outside a dingy apartment building, clutching a newspaper ad in your hand. The headline read, “Roommate Wanted: Cheap Rent, Great Location, No Serial Killers (Probably).”

It was, admittedly, not the most reassuring advertisement, but you were desperate. Between the sky-high rent prices and your recent run of bad luck, you couldn’t afford to be picky. Plus, you figured it couldn’t be worse than your last living situation.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and made your way up the narrow staircase, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. You reached the door marked “6B” and hesitated for a moment before knocking.

The door swung open almost immediately, and you were greeted by the sight of the same red-and-black suit you had seen in the alley. “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Midnight Stroll!” Deadpool exclaimed, his voice laced with amusement. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon. Or, you know, ever.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “*You* put out the ad?”

He grinned—or at least you assumed he did, given the way his mask crinkled around the eyes. “Guilty as charged. Didn’t think I’d find a roommate this fast, but hey, the universe works in mysterious ways. Come on in, make yourself at home!”

You stood frozen in the doorway, struggling to process the absurdity of the situation. “You’re Deadpool,” you finally blurted out, stating the obvious.

“The one and only!” he replied, stepping aside to let you in. “But you can call me Wade. Or Deadpool. Or hey, Roomie! I’m not picky.”

Part of you wanted to turn around and run, but the more practical side of you— the one that knew how hard it was to find affordable rent—reluctantly stepped inside. The apartment was a bit of a mess, cluttered with weapons, comic books, and various other oddities, but it was surprisingly homey.

“So,” Wade said, closing the door behind you, “what do you think? It’s got charm, right? Or, at the very least, it’s got four walls and a roof, which is really all you need.”

You glanced around, taking in the chaotic but oddly inviting space. “It’s… something,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re the one who put out the ad.”

“Why, because I’m a world-famous mercenary with a questionable moral compass and a penchant for breaking the fourth wall?” he quipped, flopping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, well, turns out even world-famous mercenaries need someone to split the bills with. Plus, the last roommate bailed after, like, a week. Something about too many explosions and not enough peace and quiet.”

“Shocking,” you muttered under your breath, but Wade caught it and laughed.

“Hey, I can be a great roommate when I want to be!” he said, holding up three fingers like he was making a pledge. “I’m clean, I’m considerate, and I almost never bring work home. Unless, of course, it’s convenient. Or funny.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, the absurdity of the situation starting to wear down your initial reservations. “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this,” you said, shaking your head.

Wade leaned forward, his tone suddenly serious. “Look, I know I’m not exactly a normal roommate, but I can promise you this: I’ll always have your back. Plus, if anyone tries to mess with you, they’ll have to answer to me. And trust me, they don’t want that.”

It was strange, but there was something oddly reassuring about the way he said it, like beneath all the jokes and bravado, there was a real person who genuinely cared.

“Okay,” you said finally, the decision made. “I’ll give it a shot. But no explosions inside the apartment.”

Wade’s eyes crinkled again as he gave you a thumbs-up. “Deal! Welcome to the madness, Roomie. I have a feeling this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked around your new home, your mind already spinning with the possibilities of what living with Deadpool might entail. It was going to be wild, unpredictable, and probably more than a little dangerous.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Mine (Doctor Who Drabble)

Dark!Ten x Fem!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: Dark!Ten would do anything to keep you with him.

CW: Dark!Ten, blood, smut

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @yeethaw13 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“You,” the Doctor growled, hand over your mouth to forcefully keep you quiet as he thrusts himself against your cunt with no mercy. “Are not allowed to fucking leave me. No, oh- you’re mine. All fucking mine.” 

You whimper against his hand, trying to keep your eyes open so you can see the look on his face. He likes it when you’re watching.

“No fucking baser species is going to take you from me,” he growls, shoving two fingers inside your mouth. Your lips wrap around them dutifully, and the metallic tang that hits your tastebuds reminds you that there are still splatters of blood across his hands and chest. 

You’d be lying if the thought didn’t make your cunt clench with need. 

“You’re mine,” he grinds out again, shoving his fingers into the back of your throat. You swallow around the fingers as your throat threatens to make you gag. His hips snap against you and a little bit of drool slips past your lips and down your chin. It mixes with the splatters of blood on your face, turning the lightest shade of pink. “Oh yes- no one is allowed to touch you, darling. I will kill every single being who even turns an eye to look at you.” 

Your eyes roll back as his words send molten heat down your spine. You really shouldn’t react that way to his violent words. You know he’s not kidding. You know he’s telling you the absolute truth. He has and would kill anyone for you- entire worlds have burned for an unpleasant comment towards you. 

And yet you stayed. And his filthy words promising blood, and death to anyone who got in your way? Turned you on faster than anything else, and he knew it, too. 

“You like that, don’t you?” He asked, fingering your mouth and watching as the drool collected on his fingers and slid down your chin. “You like to hear what I’d do to them- how I wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone- anyone- for you,” he ripped his fingers out of your mouth and placed them around your throat. “Blimey, I think even seeing the blood on my face- on my fingers when I’ve killed someone turns you on, doesn’t it?” 

You nod against his fingers and he laughs. 

“You’re filthy- fucking meant for me, darling, and I will never let you go.”

[fizzyxcustard]

Desperation.

Requested by anon and @skeleton-on-wheels0

Taken from: "Imagine that you find out Thorin is in love with you. But you accuse him of only wanting you because you’re the only woman in the Company and he’s desperate. You deeply offend him."

Again, I’m going to post this as a drabble as it’s fairly short, and I won’t tag anyone. 

“I am in love with you,” Thorin said softly as he stood next to you in Beorn’s barn. The midnight moon shone upon his face, highlighting his silver blue eyes, making them sparkle like aquamarine stones. 

A shiver of anticipation raced down your spine at his revelation. Why on earth would Thorin ever feel something for you? Immediately your mind began rationalising his feelings, churning it all over in your mind. For a few seconds and you were silent. 

“And you do not feel the same?” Thorin asked sadly. “I knew it was best I keep my thoughts to myself.” 

“Thorin,” you whispered, placing your hand on his arm. “I…I know I’m the only woman in the Company and no doubt as a male, you’re going to have urges…”

“That is what you think?” he hissed. “You think this is all about me wanting to seduce you?” 

“Please, I didn’t mean it that way.” 

“Then how did you mean it? 

Something snapped within you, a sore pressure point that had been prodded many times over the years. A place where a deeply buried scar lay untouched, waiting for someone to inadvertently uncover it with their words. A flash of anger hit you full force in your head and chest. “You’re just desperate!” you shouted. 

With that, you turned around stormed away towards the back of the barn and slumped down on a bale of hay. Tears were falling down your cheeks now in quick procession which you rubbed away in frustration, only making your cheeks turn redder. 

Thorin sighed and grit his teeth, sensing that your words came from a place of pain. However, those words had also deeply pained him in return. Did you think so little of him? Trust so little? 

***

The next morning and the tension was still thick between you and Thorin. The whole of the Company, including Gandalf, all sat around a large table, drinking milk and eating honeycakes, specially made by the host himself.  However, Beorn announced gruffly that he had no more honeycakes for that morning’s meal, and you were the last person he was intending to serve. 

All the Dwarves, Bilbo and Gandalf looked on, their mouths full of food. Except Thorin. He was sat opposite you and immediately reached across to you and handed his cake to you. “Please, eat,” he said, offering you the cake and a sad smile. 

“I can’t take your breakfast,” you replied. 

“You can and you will,” Thorin said again, placing the cake on your plate. 

“Maybe we could split it?” 

Thorin didn’t respond, but instead kept his gaze locked on you as you broke the cake in half and then gave a portion back to him. 

***

After breakfast, you and Bilbo began filling the saddlebags of the ponies which Beorn was lending you. He had since made more honeycakes, enough to see all of you with food for a good couple of weeks. 

“May we have a moment, Master Baggins?” Thorin asked, suddenly appearing before you both. His eyes then moved to you, telling Bilbo that he wished to talk to you. 

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Bilbo said, flashing a nervous smile. 

“I wish to talk to you about last night. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. That was never my intention to do so. But what I told you is the truth, and it has nothing at all to do with you being the only female in this Company. I am quite appalled that you think I would pursue you without any real feelings being involved.” 

Your gaze locked with his and you began to speak. “It was unfair of me to say what I did, and I’m sorry. Very few men have ever shown any interest in me in such a way, and then I become a member of your Company and find that you, the rightful king of your homeland, somehow has fallen in love with me. It reads like a pathetic joke. Maybe once we get to Erebor and you see more women again you may…”

“No,” Thorin insisted. “Why do you think so low of yourself? Who has broken you to the point that you cannot accept a declaration of love? I’d hoped you had begun to trust me by now. It is clear you don’t.” 

“I do trust you. Implicitly.”

“Obviously not. You cannot trust that my words are true, and that they come from my heart. I love you for everything that you are, for the woman you are. Not because of some lack of choice.” 

The sadness in his eyes was so clear to see and it made a lump rise in your throat. To keep doubting his love and pushing him away would be wrong of you. It was obvious that Thorin was speaking truth. 

[beautifulpaprika]

Rage; Jungkook

Pairing: serialkiller!fem!reader x cleaner!jungkook

Warnings: smut :), mentions of blood, mentions of murder

Summary: Y/N holds a lot of rage for men who betray her. She's killed ex-boyfriends over and over without a second thought. Her friend, Eileen, grows worried for her and resorts to bringing back her first love to get Y/N back to her senses.

Word count: 4.1k

Y/N

I press my fingers into his cold skin. His unmoving eyes look into mine and I smile. 

“Maybe you’ll think twice in hell before you stay out all night,” I tell him, dragging a nail down his stubble, “But at least you won’t be here to torture me anymore.” 

I finally stand and take out my phone, dialing Eillen’s number. My finger drags across his desk in the corner of his living room where a photo of him and I sit. I recall the memory of us going to his grandmother’s birthday and he introduced me to all his dear friends and family. Little did they know he was a sneak and a liar! 

A buzzing in my mind rackets through my head then the sound of glass shattering pulls me out of my anger and the picture frame hits the ground.

“Y/N?” Eilleen calls through the phone. 

“Eileen!” I put on a smile hearing my best friend’s voice. 

“It’s midnight. What-“

”It happened again,” I say, crouching back to my ex’s dead body. There's silence on the other side. “You know what he told me yesterday? ‘Oh, I don’t wanna go out with my friends! I’ll be so worried about you!’,” I scoff. “Well, that was a lie,” I give a small kick to the corpse, “Not a call. Or text. Or-“

”How long are you going to do this?” She asks, her voice a whisper. I think on the question, contemplating the answer and whether I should tell her the truth or what she wants. 

“Eileen, they deserve it! Every single one. Don’t forget I used this power for you too,” I argue, recalling Peter Fent. A disaster they called a man who tortured my best friend relentlessly. Even thinking about his face wants to make me vomit. 

“And you know I regret that! We shouldn’t have-“ 

“Eileen. We’ve been on the receiving end of this hurt so many times, and what happens to them? Nothing!” Tears well up in my eyes when I think of all of my past experiences in the dating world. “So, I’ll do it.”

”Aren’t you tired?” She asks. “Instead of purposely looking for those sour ones, why not find someone who can treat you well? Someone you can settle down with? You don’t have to go around playing vigilante!” 

The truth is I am tired. If he had just told me who he was going with! Or even letting me know he was okay! But he didn’t care about me and that’s clear in the fact he was ignoring me. 

“I’m going to send you an address,” I tell her matter of factly, not letting her respond or say no. “Send your guy and I’ll have his money by tomorrow.” Before she can say anything else, I press the red button, cutting her off of any noise. 

“Rest easy, my love,” I kiss my man on the forehead and wave to him as I leave. 

I wait until I’m outside and walking down the long driveway. The crickets call to me, cheering on as I swipe through the dating app. Left, left, left, right, left, right. The moon shines it’s spotlight on me, the crickets continue to cheer, and I search for my next catch. 

*** 

Jungkook

“I’m glad we get to talk in proper conversation for once,” Eileen slides in the booth across from me. She looks neither happy nor upset to see me. 

“I have to say, seeing you brings both good and bad memories,” I admit. Eileen was Y/N’s best friend. Or is? I don’t keep up too much with too many people from my past. Especially not best friends of my exes.

“I admit that I feel the same way,” she’s about to say more when a waitress walks over asking for our drinks. I take that moment to think of all the questions I have - the first being why I was invited here. 

The waitress walks away, her eyes lingering on me as she walks. 

“I need your help,” Eileen whispers, her face closer to mine from across the table. 

“Why me?”

“I think you’re the only one who can help her. She’s-” we’re interrupted again by the same waitress setting down our cokes. 

“Ready to order?” she asks.

“Just the drinks, thanks,” I say. She looks slightly disappointed and Eileen doesn’t try hiding her rolling eyes. I give her a sheepish smile and she finally walks away. 

“Nothing much has changed with you, huh?” she keeps her eyes on the back of the girl walking away. Memories of girls flirting with me while Y/N was around comes to the forefront of my mind. 

“We won’t focus on that. You said you needed help, so what is it?” I take a long sip of the carbonated drink. 

“You’ve probably already guessed this is about Y/N.” I don’t tell her that I have. “She’s been having,” she pauses, “issues,” her face winces at the word. It intrigues me enough to lean in more. “Her love life is complicated,” she laughs, “And you’re the only person I can think of where she holds no resentment towards.” 

The mention of Y/N’s love life gives me chills. The thought of her with someone else, despite it being so many years, is a punch to the gut. I imagine her eyes near- shut while she’s laughing to some other guy’s joke. I imagine her holding him tight when they’re watching a movie. I imagine the headboard hitting the wall over and over again when he-

“I know it’s weird to ask this of you,” Eileen’s voice brings me out of the infuriating images, “but if you have any interest in seeing her again, or. . . anything,” there’s a desperation to her voice and before she can say anything else - 

“Yes.” 

She’s silent for a moment. 

“You’re willing to meet her?” her jaw hangs over her drink. 

“I wanna see her again. I really do,” I add the most sincerity that I can to my voice, because if Eileen is asking for her then she must not have a partner right now. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend, right?” I double-check.

“No. No not at all. She just went through a really, really,” she gulps, “bad break-up.” That makes me worry a bit. “But she’ll be happy to see you,” her head moves up and down quickly. I start wondering what exactly it is I’m getting myself into. 

***

Y/N

It seems that Eileen has come around. I was going through many boring messages of “You showered without me?”’s and “What’s your favorite season?”’s, when my best friend’s name appeared at the top saying “I think I have the perfect man for you. One I’m certain you won’t boot into oblivion ;)”

It made my day to know Eileen isn’t as upset with me. Not only that, but she’s making my life a lot easier with setups. 

The smell of bread and garlic wafts my face when I open the door to the pizzaria. 

My phone vibrates. A message appearing from an unknown number:

This is Y/N, right? 

I’m your date tonight. <3

I went ahead and got a table for us. Let me know when you’re here. 

Hm. Nice punctuation and he’s early? Eileen should set me up more often. 

I’m here 🙂 In the blue dress.

I look around, waving off the host in the process. I don’t spot anyone making eye contact with me, that is until I look to my right where a man in a black button up and black dress pants is walking towards me. His steps slow when we make eye contact and I almost collapse to the ground. 

This is a joke. Eileen has lost her fucking mind and decided this would be funny. 

“Don’t,” I whisper. I cover my mouth when it comes out too raspy and hold a hand out to stop him. I feel the sting in my eyes and my embarrassment heightens. The smell of Italian food is gone and the fresh air and city noise drowns me. 

“Y/N,” the voice comes behind me. 

“No!” I move through people on the sidewalk looking at us.

“Y/N, stop!” 

But I don’t. 

A grip on my arm pulls me back and my back meets the hard, brick wall. People are no longer looking, most likely thinking Jungkook is not one to be messed with by the ink adorning his arms and his neck. But I already know he isn’t dangerous. 

“What was that?” his breath fans my face. 

“What did Eileen say to you, hm? That you need to fix me?” I push on his chest, but it has little to no effect on him other than making him annoyed. 

“She approached me,” he says, and I scoff, “Let me finish,” his voice is calm. “I am the one who wanted to see you. Me! I wasn’t forced. I wasn’t paid. I wanted to do this.” 

“You’re lying!”

”I’m not.” 

“Why would you want to see me? I’m the one who broke up with you. I left you. Don’t you hold any resentment?” my face starts stinging again and the tears well in my eyes at the thought of him calling me for months after I told him I didn’t want him anymore. After I lied to him.

His mouth opens and I anticipate the words “I do hate you” ready to leave him. 

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” his voice is low. I chuckle. 

”Why? Are you embarrassed?” 

“Y/N. You know I’ve never felt embarrassed about you. Not back then and not now.” I believe him. But I don’t want to. “Please, can we go somewhere?” His hand rests on my cheek so naturally. I imagine myself falling into him and going back to how we were before.

***

”This is it,” I say waving him inside my apartment. 

His head moves up, down, left, and right examining every bit and it gives me time to examine him in return. How his shoulders are broader, his hair a bit messier, and those tattoos that weren’t there before. Even the way he walks is different. He was always handsome, but now he’s ethereal. 

“Your place looks better than mine,” he laughs. Just another thing to add to the list of things that Jungkook does that makes me melt. “We already knew you’d be the better decorator,” it aches to think about the times when we talked about buying our own place or the past at all. 

The two years I had been with Jungkook were my best years. He was so attentive and I never had to worry if he was around. I only had to say something once and he was very considerate of my needs. Not a single complaint came out of his mouth and that was what one day led to my biggest worry. I started to doubt everything that he did for me because I could not uncover the why. 

He was the best boyfriend I’d ever had and yet made me so insecure because I couldn’t understand why he was being so nice. 

“You can have a seat anywhere,” I tell him. He follows me to the kitchen where a small dining table sits by the wall. ”What all has Eileen told you about me?” I ask while pouring the two cups of water. I place one in front of him and sit across the table. 

“She told me you just needed a bit of help. The rest I don’t remember ‘cause I was focused on the fact I would get to see you again,” a smirk appears on his lips. “I am not disappointed. You’re more beautiful than before,” his eyes meet mine causing my chest to constrict. I’ve been searching for this feeling of being wanted, and while my other boyfriends have given me that feeling (may they rest in peace), it only lasted for the first date. With Jungkook, it was constant. 

“You’re more handsome than ever,” his smile reaches his eyes at the compliment. A laugh escapes me.

”What?”

 “I’m just wondering what the catch is,” his head tilts, “Are you married? You’re looking for a place to stay? You have a gambling addiction and you need money? Why would you want to come back to me?” He laughs at my questions, but the image of him being married to someone else pushes me to take a sip of water at the heat boiling inside. 

“Well, the answer is none of the above. I do have a catch, though. I’m not sure how honest you want me to be.” 

“You know I want you to always be honest with me. The most you can,” I think of the liars in the past whose bodies are lying graves now. 

“I’m obsessed with you,” his tone is serious and he isn’t smiling like he was before. “I can’t touch another girl without thinking ‘What if this had been Y/N?’” My heart doesn’t seem to know what to do with this information. “You can probably already guess I’ve been searching for you for a very long time. After a while of trying to call you, I guess you changed your number and I couldn’t contact you anymore.”

I recall changing my number, not wanting to be upset every time I looked at my phone and his number would always pop up. It caused regret for weeks and I couldn’t deal with it anymore. 

“I won’t lie and say I haven’t researched much about you. When Eileen contacted me I had already been in the city,” he moves to get up from his chair and rounds the table to me. A warmth seeps from his hand to my cheek. I relax into the familiarity of his touch. “I’ve been in the city for a long time,” he leans in and I mirror him, wondering if he’s going to kiss me, but he moves to my ear instead. “Who do you think cleans up all of your messes?” 

I jerk backwards in my seat. 

“What did you just say?” I whisper. 

“You never believed me when I said I would do anything for you. I was telling the truth, Y/N. I think I’ve proven myself whenever I cleaned your spilled blood,” his words leave me speechless. My throat is dry and my tongue is heavier sitting in my mouth. The new information leaves me spinning. It’s all too quick for me to process in one day. 

“I need a minute,” I push him aside and make my way past the living room and down the hall into my bedroom. Drowsiness takes me and I lie down on the bed, resting my eyes. 

***

Light bleeds through my eyelids, eyes staring down at me. 

“Y/N? Was I boring you too much?” That deep, familiar voice says. Jungkook has a smirk painted on his face and I’m in disbelief that I took a nap! 

I pick myself up making sure I’m still in my apartment. Jungkook is unpredictable in my eyes now that he’s fessed up to everything. 

“I brought some water in case you were still feeling faint,” he picks up a bottle from the night stand with a few crackers sitting next to it. He still does the same thing that he always has when I feel sick. 

“Jungkook . . .”

“You can’t say this is crazy,” he chuckles. “You’ve killed people before. We’re practically a team already.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think I would personally know who else is involved in these shenanigans,” I feel faint again imagining him drag bodies down stairs and mopping spilled blood. 

“You mean the shenanigans you created?”

“I mean me not letting any man lie, cheat, steal, or cause any form of harm to me again. Not without paying consequences. That includes you,” I say, not sure if it is a threat when I do, but knowing I’ve set my boundary with him. Whether I truly want that boundary is up in the air. 

“And have I ever done any of that to you?” He asks the question with worry on his face rather than trying to find ways to defend himself. I can’t look him in the eye when he asks the question because I don’t have an answer that would prove him wrong. 

“You made me nervous,” I say, my voice quiet. The embarrassment is palpable. “You were always handsome and everyone around us knew it,” I finally look up at him. “I’m not saying I didn’t think I was beautiful enough for you, I mean look at me,” I gesture to myself and he laughs but nods in agreement. “But there was that one night you were talking to your friends. You made all these plans before with them, and then I heard you say ‘I’m gonna have to change everything now that I have Y/N.’ Do you remember that?” 

His eyes narrow as he thinks but it seems to click when he’s about to respond. \

“I didn’t realize how much I was holding you back until then. We were on different paths and you should have-” 

“Stop, stop, stop,” his hands wave in the air. “You never told me this,” he gets up- his arms crossing over his chest. “Why didn’t you mention this? We could have talked about it!” I notice his voice raising so I get up from the bed as well ready to defend myself. 

“You would have said it was a stupid reason! You would have told everyone how ridiculous I was being. It was better that you didn’t know,” I explain. 

“You’re right. It is ridiculous. It kills me that you didn’t think I would want a change, especially if it’s with you,” I try to come up with a response but nothing comes. “You’re killing these guys because of miscommunications and yet here you are doing it with me.” The mention of him knowing about my slaughters makes me faint again. 

“It was years ago, Jungkook. Who knows if I would have done the same thing now?” I wave him off and turn to walk out of the bedroom that feels suffocating now. Before I can step out, the door swings close and my front is pressed to the door, his is pressed to my back. 

“Communicate, Y/N,” his lips lower to my ear, kissing a spot behind it. A shiver races down my spine. 

“I don’t know what else to say,” my voice wavers and I curse myself for showing him my weakness. I feel a heat on my waist when his hand meets my waist. My head leans back when his lips move to my neck. 

“What do you want with me now?” his other hand moves to my ass. “More?” he turns me to face him and I can feel the wetness in between my legs when I’m forced to move. I’ve had sex before since Jungkook, but I haven’t felt like I was going to collapse in anticipation until now. “Or are you going to tell me to stop?” his finger slides down the middle of my chest, tracing the line of my cleavage. 

“S-” I almost tell him to stop, but I can’t. I want him. I need him. Forever. 

“Communicate,” his leg slides between mine, finally giving me some kind of friction. I rest my head back on the door and wrap my hands around his neck when he moves his leg on me. 

“I want you, Jungkook,” I’m breathless now. “Right now and for the rest - ah!” I gasp when his fingers slide the straps of my dress down and his mouth is already on my nipple. “For the rest of my life,” I manage to push out. He moans on my nipple when I pull his hair, the vibrations being another sensation muddying my brain. 

“I’ll show you what you’re getting for the rest of your life,” his knees meet the ground and I make eye contact with him as he lifts my dress. Our eyes break when his head hides under the fabric, and I can’t see anything, but feel when he kisses my thighs. He lifts one of my legs onto his shoulder, kissing the inside of my thighs now. I grow impatient and push his head. His chuckle slides against my thighs and I’m about to scold him when I feel a tongue sliding through my lips. 

“Oh God,” I  whisper. My head hits the door as I moan. His tongue swirls and sucks on me and I thank every shooting star for Jungkook and how amazing he is at making me feel good. I have missed the feeling of non-rushed sex with love and care mixed in. 

He stays under me for another minute as I indulge in the wet muscle until he peaks out of the dress and pulling it down.

When he stands, I rush to take the button off of his jeans and pull them down his legs followed by his boxers. His hand rests on my cheek as I come back up. 

The kiss he plants on me is searing. Our lips mesh perfectly into a rhythm. Both of his hands slide down to my waist then onto my ass. I jump, wrapping my legs around his waist. I hold back on grinding myself into his erection as he sits on the edge of the bed. He pulls away and pushes a hair behind my ear. 

“I want you to do something that we never did,” he whispers into my mouth. A million possibilities run through my head, my pussy aching at all of them. 

“What’s that?” I nudge my nose into his before he pulls away again by lying down. 

“Ride me,” he says. It’s a simple request but it’s one that makes my stomach drop. I’ve never been one to be on top. I always wanted my boyfriends to show me they wanted me by putting the work on. It was selfish on every level, but it helped my own self esteem. But this is Jungkook. I would do anything for him at this point. 

I don’t say anything else, only place myself onto his hard dick. I drag my wetness on him putting my hands on his still clothed chest. I drag my fingers onto the buttons and pluck every single one undone. Once I’m able to take his shirt off I drag my tongue up his chest and onto his neck. He holds my ass and grinds up into me, earning a moan into his ear. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sighs. I’ve missed the way he sounded. 

I bring myself back up, breathless. 

“My dress,” I point out the garment still on me, getting up to take it off.

“Don’t,” he demands, grabbing my hand. “Keep it on. You look sexy as hell in it.” The compliment makes my heart soar. 

I hover over him, grabbing his dick. It slides so easily inside of me. 

“Fuck,” he moans, “You feel perfect,” he whispers. I relish the way he still holds my ass and moan out loud when I start to move. He helps by meeting me in the middle as I bounce on him. I can’t help my ego growing when he licks his lips as I move. 

I realize I’m fucked when I look at him. Literally and figuratively. He could do anything and I would never kill him. Is it the bare minimum not to kill your partner? To other people, yes.

The pace moves faster and his hand slides down, sliding a finger through me, then rubbing at my clit and that moves my body to the edge. 

“I- I think I-” 

“Let’s do it together, baby,” his pet name pushes me and I cry out when I climax. He sits up and groans into my mouth when he fills me up. We ride the high for a few more seconds before I come off of him and we lie down, wrapping ourselves into the blanket. 

I wrap an arm around his waist and kiss his cheek.

“Does this mean I won’t have to clean blood anymore?” he asks. I punch him in the chest at the tease as he laughs. 

“Very funny. But as long as you don’t break my heart then I suppose not,” I respond seriously. 

“You won’t have to worry then,” there’s a smug smirk painted on his face as I roll my eyes. 

“Oh!” I quickly rush out of bed. 

“What is it?” 

“I have to pee!” I rush to the bathroom as he laughs. I peek out the bathroom door and tell him, “I’ve missed you.” 

He smiles gently at me, his hands resting behind his head. “I’ve missed you more.” 

[sugrhigh]

HOTBOX - ( m.s )

part two

summary- matt finally decides to smoke with his best friends for the first time, and he finds that it’s impossible to keep his eyes off of you

warnings- drug use, swearing, tiny bit suggestive

bff!matt x fem!reader

a/n: WOOOO finally a real piece of writing! i hope u guys enjoy. will possibly do a part two but idk, so if you have requests just ask!

he can’t stop drumming his fingers against the wheel as he steers the car along, desperately trying to relax a little bit and focus on the music that’s blaring through the speakers.

chris sits beside him in the passenger seat, feet up on the dashboard as you guys speed toward your destination. he can hear you and nate conversing in the back, practically shouting at each other over the song.

the waterfront comes into view through his windshield a moment later, moonlight shimmering against the glassy surface. matt takes the next left, swerving across both lanes of traffic to pull into the deserted lot.

there’s nobody on the beach of course, considering it’s almost midnight in the middle of november. he throws the car into park and lowers the volume, shifting in his seat so he can actually see everyone.

“i think that’s the fastest i’ve ever seen you drive, grandpa.” you tease him, unbuckling so you can lean forward in your seat.

he rolls his eyes, though he never actually minds it when you’re the one chirping at him.

“you’re gonna wish it was me once nate gets behind the wheel, i promise.”

“wow, so i volunteer to stay sober and this is the thanks i get?” his friend asks, arms crossed over his chest defensively.

“thank you nate.” you reply in a sing-song voice.

“yeah, yeah. whatever.”

matt watches as you claw through your bag, finally digging out a small blue pouch after a few more seconds of searching.

the moment you unzip it, the all-too familiar smell of weed fills the interior of the car. chris cheers when he sees you pull out a perfectly packed joint, holding it in between your middle and pointer finger with precision.

“you know, it’s really upsetting that you can roll better than me.” nate shakes his head with a sigh.

“aw, you gonna cry about it?” you puff your bottom lip out at him.

“i swear i’ll fucking walk home and leave you guys stranded.”

“sure you will. hold this.” you pass the joint to him before retrieving the lighter.

matt tries to play down the smile that’s beginning to take over his face as you hold it in your palm. he got that one for you on your last birthday. it’s a silver zippo lighter with a big winding dragon engraved on the side.

it was kind of a gag gift just because he knows how much you smoke, but you ended up genuinely loving it way more than he had ever expected.

chris smacks him in the arm gently, and he finally tears his eyes away from you.

“you sure you want to?” his brother double checks, though he doesn’t do a very good job of containing his obvious excitement.

“yup.” matt replies simply, his gaze darting in your direction again.

he’s never once felt pressured to smoke before, but he’s always been a little curious. he’s hung out with the three of you while you’re all stoned enough times to realize that he at least wants to try it.

and sure, maybe a tiny part of him is doing this because he wants to impress you. but what’s the harm in that?

“i’ll start her off, but then it’s coming your way matty b.” you nod at him with a smile, taking the joint back from nate.

his heart is already pounding and all you did was look at him.

you put the filter between your lips and spark his lighter, holding the flame to the end. he watches it burn as you inhale, trying to figure out exactly how he’s supposed to do this when it’s his turn.

you blow the smoke over your shoulder, careful not to do it in anyone’s face. no cough. matt doesn’t even see you flinch.

you take one more quick drag, and he’s already entranced by your fluid movements.

then you stretch your hand out, offering him the next hit as you silently exhale once again. it’s impossible for him to ignore the way he fumbles with your hand before he finally pinches it between his fingers.

it feels awkward, like he’s somehow already doing it wrong.

“just put your lips on it, suck in, not for long though because that’s real shit. then hold it in your throat, inhale it, exhale it.” you instruct him, and his mouth is already dry from the way you’re talking.

there’s something about the commanding edge to your voice that’s driving him crazy. he kind of likes that you’re the know-it-all, the one in control.

“sounds dirty, but you get the point.” chris states with a shrug.

yeah, sounds fucking dirty.

“you got this, don’t even think about it too much.” nate adds encouragingly.

matt bites the bullet, curling his lips around the end and inhaling. he definitely feels the smoke fill his lungs, so he pulls the joint away quickly and practically tosses it to chris.

“exhale, exhale.” you instruct, and he does so all at once.

it fogs up the car, smoke flying back up in his face instantly. then he feels it. the burning in his throat. the desperate need to cough.

he sputters, and chris is already motioning to one of the waters in the cup holder.

“keep holding your breath and drink that.”

he tries to do as he’s told, but it’s impossible to hold it in. he lets out a loud hacking cough. then another, and another. matt tries to sip on the water in between them, though it’s hard.

you rub his arm gently as the cough attack begins to die down, and the feeling of your fingernails scratching him lightly through his sweatshirt almost makes him shiver.

“i personally like a good cough everyone once in a while. humbles me.” you joke, removing your hand and sitting back in your seat once you’re sure he’s alright.

he misses your touch immediately, and it’s embarrassing.

chris has been keeping it lit, so he passes it back to you once you’re ready. matt is left out for a moment, and he doesn’t mind the brief break.

the music stays on in the background, a curated playlist of stuff that you all like. he sees you bopping your head along to baby keem, and you turn to him with the joint still burning between your lips.

“you want more?” you say as the smoke curls around your face.

in many ways.

matt nods and reaches to grab it from you, trying to be careful where he positions his fingers. he repeats his actions from earlier, breathing out slowly this time.

he still coughs quite a bit, but it’s not nearly as bad. the high is definitely rushing straight to his head, and it makes him feel like a balloon full of helium.

his brother guides the joint out of his hand gently. even he wheezes a bit as he takes his fair share, which makes matt feel better.

“how do you feel bro?” nathan asks him through the haze that’s filled the car.

“good. i feel good.” that’s all he can think to say.

and it is nice. everything seems just a little bit lighter. his body feels…loose. matt blinks, and he swears he sees stars behind his eyelids.

you reach up to open the sunroof, letting some fresh air into the car. there’s not a cloud in the sky tonight, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore calms him.

“one more baby hit, then you’re done.” you pass it to him for the last rotation.

“so bossy.” matt smirks at you, and there’s a humorous glint in your eyes as you watch him take a drag.

he tries impossibly hard to make it look cool, despite almost hacking up a lung and choking on his water. you laugh, but matt somehow understands that you’re not making fun of him by doing so.

chris snatches it from of his hand. “gimme that, it’s almost out.”

it’s like a game of ping pong as matt watches the two of you bounce back and forth, hit after hit. the joint dwindles and finally dies a minute later. you toss the burnt remains into a dunkin bag from god knows how long ago before slipping the lighter back into the pouch.

“alright, matt. time for you to switch with me big boy.” nathan reminds him, turning to open his car door.

matt follows his lead. his body feels like it’s three feet behind his brain, like his consciousness is just a few seconds faster. his legs wobble as his feet hit the ground, but he manages to steady himself, hand against the car as he moves.

nate walks him to the door just in case, and matt stumbles into his new home in the back, laughing at himself under his breath. you help him sit upright in the middle seat, reaching across his body to get to the belt.

“lift your arm.” you tell him, and even though he doesn’t want to, he listens.

you pull the buckle around and click it into place so he’s properly strapped in, doing it for him like he’s a toddler or something.

this is an action he’d normally protest, but he’s solely focused on how close together you are. he can feel the heat radiating from your body as your shoulder presses against his, knees knocking together as he gets comfortable.

“how are you doing? everything okay?” you ask lowly, looking up at him through those long lashes.

he can see the red tinging your eyes, and his own feel droopy as he continues to stare. matt just can’t help it. you look so gorgeous, somehow even more so when you’re both faded.

“cat got your tongue?” you joke, head tilted back to rest against the seat as nate puts the car in reverse.

“you’re pretty.” it slips out before he can stop it, and yet he’s too high to care.

your eyes go a little wide, and your lips part slightly as you suck in a breath. he wants to kiss you so bad, to get rid of the centimeters of space between you and just press his mouth to yours.

“and you’re stoned.” you smile a bit and look away, trying to play it off.

“but i’m serious.” he doubles down, and you glance at him once more with those fucking bambi eyes.

you shake your head and place your hand on his thigh. “i promise you’re not.”

it ignites a fire in his stomach, one that won’t die down. he wants to move his hips, to feel some sort of friction against your palm. but he holds still, even despite how much he needs you.

“you don't know me.” matt hears his words slur together slightly as he speaks.

“i definitely do.” you argue.

“fine, but you can’t possibly guess what’s going on in my head.”

matt’s still not sure where any of this is coming from, or why he’s saying it to you now, but the word vomit won’t stop.

you shrug, squeezing his thigh lightly. he shifts a little bit, trying not to get too worked up over the pressure.

“i guess that’s true. so what are you thinking?”

matt glances up front at his brother and his best friend, and he knows neither of them are paying attention to the two of you. they’re too busy singing piña colada by yung pinch to care.

he hears you hum a little bit of the chorus under your breath as you wait for his response.

“i’m thinking about you.” he finally admits, leaning over so he can say it directly into your ear.

he can smell your rose shampoo, the fading hints of flowery perfume on your skin. it’s intoxicating, being near you like this.

you move your hand off his leg to shove his chest playfully. “shut up.”

the city blurs by as nate continues to drive, and matt admires the way the light from the street lamps dance across your face.

“why don’t you believe me?” he mumbles, barely audible over the combination of the breeze and the music.

“because you’re high as a kite, i can see it written all over your face.”

“doesn’t mean i’m lying.”

you study his face like you’re trying to find the truth in it. he can’t help but grin, because you’re so fucking clueless, and it makes you smile right back.

“touché.”

[awfulwriter123]

Babysitting (Rhea Ripley x Reader One-shot)

Hey everyone!! Quick thanks again for all the love and support! You guys are awesome ❤️. This idea hit while spending time with my niece earlier this week. Hope you guys enjoy, criticism, tips, blah blah blah you guys know that whole deal. Happy reading everyone!! ❤️❤️

Warning's: None just pure fluff. S/n = Sister's name, sh/n = sister's husband's name, n/n = niece's name

"Sit Barry!" You told Barry so you could put his and Luna's food bowls down so they can eat, When he finally sat down you put down the food bowl's to which Barry started eating like he hasn't in a week, while Luna just ate slow and calmly unlike her brother.

"I swear your spoiled, the lot of you." You sat down at the kitchen table for a second when you heard your phone ringing, expecting it to be your lovely girlfriend calling to tell you she landed and she should be home soon.

What you didn't expect, was it to be a call from you sister, you couldn't help the confusing smile to break out on your face, that didn't stop you from picking up the phone, could've been a emergency for all you know.

"Hey sis, something wrong?" You asked with slight concern in your voice. "What i can't call my sister and see how she's doing!? haha!" You caught the somewhat nervous laugh at the end of that sentence.

"Is everything okay s/n?" You were now very concerned thinking the worst. "No no no, everything's okay, i just wanted to call and ask a favor, if that's okay?" You breathed a sigh of relief that it was nothing bad, but now you were curious.

"Shoot s/n, what's up?" You heard shuffling on the other line guessing she was moving around or something. "Me and sh/n got some ticket's to a music festival and we wanted to know if you would be okay to watch n/n? mom and dad are going out for their anniversary tonight and you the only other adult who i trust with her honestly."

You let a grin come across your face that would put the grinch to shame, you LOVED your niece and spending time with her was always fantastic, so you didn't even think twice with your answer. "Yeah i can watch her, what time should i expect you guys to come back and get her?" You asked as you got up to tiddy up the house a bit, wasn't messy but you just wanted to be safe.

You heard s/n let out a sigh of relief. "Hopefully we'll be able to get her before midnight, with traffic and stuff its hard to tell. Can i come drop her off say 4:00 or 4:30?"

You looked at the clock 3:34. "Yeah that should be good, see you in a bit sis! Love ya!" "Love ya too, see you in a bit!" You hung up the phone and quickly got to making sure the house was nice and clean for when your niece got here.

~ Time Skip ~

" Hey roadrunner!" You quickly picked up your niece as she ran at you at full speed, it was easy to see why you gave the 2 year old that nickname.

"Hi auntie!!" She practically yelled while repeated kissing your cheek while you were laughing. "Okay! Okay! I get it you love me!" You said and she finally stopped and just put her head in the crook of your neck while giggling.

"Hey y/n!" You looked up to see s/n and her husband looking at you two with smiles on their face's. "Hey guys! How you doing sh/n?" "Im good, just trying to keep track of these two crackhead's" He said as he pointed at your sister and niece, to which he promptly got hit in the arm for by your sister.

"Oh shut up you still love us!" "Damn right!" He replied as he kissed her cheek and you rolled your eyes. "What sis jealous~?" "No, you two are just ridicules with how lovey dovey you are." They both laughed at that.

"Where's rhea at anyway, working?" Your sister asked as your niece picked her head up from your neck. "Rhe rhe!?" She said excitedly looking around. To which all you laughed at her eagerness to see her aunti 'Rhe rhe'

"Auntie Rhe rhe ain't home yet roadrunner, she should be here soon tho." Her face quickly lit up in excitement at that. "Okay we gotta get going, here's a bag of stuff, just some clothes and toy's for her to keep herself occupied, call if you need us or if anything happens alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, go have a good time love bird's i got her!" You laughed to them. They quickly said by to n/n and gave her kisses and waved by as they pulled out of the driveway as you walked back into the house with your niece still in your arm's. "Wanna watch monster's inc?" You've never seen anyone nod their head as fast your niece.

~Time Skip~

You sat on the couch sending a video of n/n running around with Barry and Luna to s/n. You didn't know how a 2 year old could have this much energy.

Now your niece was cuddle up into your side out of breath from running around with the dog's and watched the movie that was coming to a close here soon.

You looked at the clock reading 5:17. Rhea should be home any minute now. You didn't think that rhea would be upset that you said yes to watch your niece without asking her first, she said wwe were giving her some time off cause of how hard she was working lately. So you have a few more days together just the two of you.

Just as that thought left your head, the front door opened . The dogs jumping from their spot on the floor, and Barry barking like a madman. N/n quickly got up from her spot against you on the couch to take a quick peek around the corner to see who it was.

"Hey! Easy Barry, watch the nail's dude. God I need y/n to remind me to cut your nail's tomorrow." "Rhe rhe!!" Your niece quickly ran at rhea, effectively latching herself on to her leg's.

"Hey koala!! What are you doing here?" She asked as she unlatched n/n from her legs to pick her up and hold her. "My sister and sh/n wanted to go to a music festival, they didn't have anyone else to watch her, sorry. She have asked you first." You said sheepishly as you rubbed your arm nervously.

Those nervs all disappeared as rhea planted a quick kiss on your lips. "Hey it's alright, I dont mind watching her, don't worry your pretty little head babe." She smiled at you to which you gave one back.

The nice moment was ruined when you heard a low growl and n/n grabbed her stomach. "Hungry!" She said while pointing at her stomach to which you and rhea both laughed at.

"Let me see what i can make for dinner." You turned to walk to the kitchen, but stopped when rhea lightly grabbed your waist to put her front to your back. "Hey it's alright babe, let's just order pizza." N/n quickly threw her arms up in the air yelling. "PIZZA!!!" You chuckled lightly. "Alright alright, pizza it is." Rhea pumped her fist with a quick and quiet "Yesss!" Then her and n/n high fived.

"I can't even with you two." You shook your head while laughing at them, as you left to get you phone to order. "You still love me babe!" She said to as you walked away. "Keep telling yourself that ripley!" You replied, before you turned the corner to head to the living room all you heard was a. "What!?" From rhea, which caused you to giggle lightly.

~Time Skip~

You threw n/n's shirt she got dirty while eat into the laundry, seriously you did not know how a kid can get so messy while eating pizza. After doing that you walked back into the living room to sit on the chair to which Luna immediately sat at your feet as 'Cars" was playing on the tv.

You looked over to the couch to see rhea laying down with n/n on her chest cuddling into her, to which you smiled and took a quick picture. Rhea heard the click of your phone and turned her head to see your phone pointed at her, to which you took another quick photo.

"That's my new home screen." You said while giggling, to which rhea only smiled while gently shaking her head turning back to the movie. N/n laughing and giggling quietly as the movie played.

~Time Skip~

You didn't know how long you closed your eyes for as you yawned to look at your phone, 9:56. You would think that s/n and sh/n would be on their way here soon.

You turned your head to see rhea and n/n in the same position as you saw them last but this time, they are dead asleep. You quietly adn quickly took a quick photo on your phone and you got up and grab the blanket from the back of the couch to put over them so they were extra warm.

Your phone quietly buzzed in your pocket and you pulled it out to see a text from your sister. S/n: 'Be there in 45 minutes to get her. Hope she was good?' You quickly sent her the pictures you took earlier while replying. Y/n: 'She was great.'

~ Last Time Skip (Sorry for all these) ~

When you heard the car pull into the driveway, you quickly picked up n/n's bag, which you packed up for her, and walked over to where rhea and n/n were sleeping on the couch.

You decided to try and get n/n out rhea's arm's without waking her, as she looked like she need the sleep after working so many days in a row.

As you got n/n out of rhea's grasp you saw her flutter open and look at you take n/n from her arms. "Sorry babe, s/n and sh/n are here to pick her up. I didn't wanna wake you."

She sat up while yawing. "It's okay y/n, here i got her." She quickly took n/n back as she walked towards the front door and quietly opened it and you followed her out and saw s/n standing there smiling.

"Hey rhea, sis. Thank you guys so much for watching her." She gently took n/n from rhea's arms and gave her n/n's bag. When you three heard a whine and look towards n/n.

"Hi momma." She cuddled into her mom's neck. "Hey sweetie. Have good time with auntie rhe rhe and y/n?" She asked while rubbing her back.

N/n let out a quiet 'Mhm' while nodding her head. She looked towards you and rhea and asked in her tired voice. "Can i come over again tomorrow?"

You and rhea both laughed lightly, rhea walked up her and gently rubbed her back while asking. "How about make a next weekend, Okay?" N/n excitedly shook her head yea while s/n laughed lightly.

"That's alright with me lemme talk with sh/n and we'll plan it?" "Sound's good!" You replied with a smile on your face. As they pulled out of the driveway you and rhea waved as they drove off.

You two went back into the house and started heading upstair's to your shared bedroom. "I didn;t know you loved babysitting so much rhe rhe~" You lightly teased her as you changed into your pj's.

"Only for that crazy koala." She replied with a smile on her face as she slid into bed, you not too long after her. "I prefer her nickname to be roadrunner." You said with a grin on your face.

"It is too damn late to get into an argument over her nickname, get some sleep." She told you while pulling you into her chest, and you did not have to be told twice.

You thought it was safe to say, that THE Rhea Ripley, The eradicator, LOVED being a babysitter.

[spn-etc]

Once in a Blue Moon

Dean Winchester x Reader

Author Note: My first attempt at a reader insert. I enjoyed this one, and it's given me inspiration for more reader inserts for different characters. Send a message my way if you want to see more for particular characters

Summary: You've gone out to track down the creature indicated in a mauling revealed on the nightly news. Your misadventure lands you in the hospital and has you confronting feelings you have never cared to reveal to Dean, whom you still have feelings for.

Mainly fluff, could be considered a hurt!fic?

“Isn’t it obvious?” you say. 

You’d been badly cut, a gash opened up from your hip down the length of your thigh. Dean Winchester had managed to get you just in the nick of time. Past midnight on that full moon, a blue moon in late November. It was the sort of cold night that cut you to the bone, and the trees were like pitchforks on a hunt in Ohio. 

The hunt. You’d been told to stay out of it; it wasn’t your job. You should be on your merry way. But for every time he was on the road with Sam, away from you just one more time, the days and nights grew harder. You wished it was easier to tend the bar, pour another scotch and shoot the breeze with your regulars. Maybe take someone else home this time. It meant nothing.

 Then, you saw the reports on the news. This was not the animal attack that you had heard of before. So, for one last time, you took your dad’s old revolver. It was the one he made you swear never to use. You learned all throughout your short life that you're bad at keeping promises. It’s two of the men in your life you’ll have disappointed, if you can live to see another sunrise. Loaded up with silver bullets, and still familiar to you after what felt like ages, you drove that Ford down the winding roads that went from asphalt to gravel. Just this time, you say. They’re going to underestimate what they’re dealing with, as usual. And, there in the shadows stood the beast. Blood red eyes and the body of an agile mountain lion, but twice its size. You keep your revolver ready, getting out of the monster’s direct line of sight. And you cock the gun. “Sam,”cries the voice you’ve heard so many times before. “Sammy!” The voice was farther off. A rustle in the opening of the trees, and there’s not one but two of the things. There’s no time to lose and you hold the old revolver up. You almost have it. And, that’s when it hits you. 

Your memory is hazy about what happened next. You vaguely remember the voices of the Winchesters. Dean’s voice calling out to you. And a searing pain shooting through your body. The rest was complete darkness. 

And here you are at the Dupont Memorial Hospital, in a hospital gown, and hooked up to a machine. Sam had left you and Dean alone to talk to one of the nurses. 

“You’re absolutely nuts, you know that right?” 

“Not any more than either of you guys,” you say from the hospital bed.

Those two green eyes burn holes in your skull, as Dean gets closer to you, until he’s close enough for you to count the freckles across his face.  “God, (Y/N), what did you expect was going to happen? You told me you’d stopped all of this. You know what's out there. I thought that your dad’s death would show you-”

“I know what happened and not a day goes by that it doesn’t remind me, Dean. Every damn night, it’s the same. I can feel it-”

“What’s the same?” Dean says, and the worry is even more apparent in his face. 

“Nothing, nothing.” You feel your voice rising, tense at the idea of Dean catching you out again. It’s not something you like to talk about, least of all someone who hurls himself into conflict. You’d find other ways to deal with it. 

“No, it's something. C’mon! Is it to do with that demon? What is it, (Y/N)?” 

Dean Winchester’s not one to let things show. You know there’s more than he lets on, than even you let on. He’s close enough now that you can make out the curl of his lashes and the bare trace of a cut just above his brow. You can see the roughness of his hands, as he brushes your hair tenderly away from your face. It’s a dead giveaway that Dean Winchester’s stressed out. it feels like ages since he was this close. Since the last time you picked up Dad's gun. For the first time in awhile, you can look him directly in the eyes. What’s different is blurted out into the open, and you find yourself saying something that had never been said before. 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“What?”

“I thought after coming all this way, and after everything that happened, it would finally click. That I love you, Dean."

Dean’s brow is furrowed for a split second, and then his features start to soften. You hadn’t broken your eye contact with him, up to now. But, the situation is overwhelming enough that you find yourself looking away. You return your gaze just enough for Dean to close the gap between you. The kiss is surprisingly gentle for such a tense situation, his rough lips warm against yours, and maybe it was the meds pulling you under but the sensation left you almost dizzy, and shivering. You fell into it, just as he pulled away. He laughed, and you felt that this would never happen again. 

[siremasterlawrence]

Midnight Birthday Blizt

It’s midnight on my birthday August 29th as I get up to a faint light blaring in my fcae as my eyes wake up a bit to find a glowing ball of light dancing before me and I am in awe.The window flew upward as the light is on a bit of fire shooting down street as I see odd dark shadow of a rather muscular large man come down the block.He looks amazing with red apple ear pods in his ears as he runs too deep into his mind going a thousand miles per hour and he does not see it coming as the light hits head on.The light smashes in to his chest as he stop freezing in time as everything began to spin round and round hitting every nerve spreads upward. His eyes begin to blink non stop as i get up for good, grabbing a few clothes as I go out into the hallway and race down the grand staircase. My heart is pounding as the door slid open to the side I let it crack a bit slipping out of my home and I stand outside to see him a bit slow.He bounces back to life moving around like a crazy person then stopping to turn to me staring me down and he looks at me head on.

“Hey sexy! I am Tom! May I come in?”

“You made a wish on a star right “

“This is not Disney!”

“Oh No Babe!”

“Excuse me!”

“I am X-rated”

“Apparently!”

“Have you seen this body?”

“No! Why don’t you show me? Come in”

“Ggggooooddd! Mmmmmm! Fuck!”

“Are you ok?z”

“You drive me crazy “

“Tell me more!”

“I was a arrogant prick on a run”

“Uh huh! “

“I saw you “

“Go on! It all came to me”

“I need to party with you “

A light flows through his body upward in to the air blasting through the window close by next door across road from me as he pops up from his bed. The night’s flip on as he pulls on the chair filling upward the room with a blue strobe light as he slipping from his bed into his slippers. He enters his bath room stripping off his clothes as he soaps up washing it all off and races into the closet and gets dressed. He picks up his keys from his night table as he walking through the door and jets across to the street knocking on my door.He appears at my door walking when Tom goes to answer it checking him up and down to be at my side and I can see the jealousy it is very apparent. I command Tom to do a strip tease for me slowly without a single though and to focus on me singularly simply because I will it. Tom clicks his finger using to place by his mouth, he licks his fingers as he strips off his shirt and hops on the table for a bit. Ben rolls his eyes standing tall in his underwear as he sits on my lap leaping into a sexy lap dance for me and I could not be more pleased.

“Will you fuck us Master?”

“Flick the switch”

“It’s like a club”

“Look at the strobe lights”

“I love it”

“Guys work harder “

“Both of you “

“Yes Master”

“Synchronize”

“Good bois”

“Mmmmmmmm”

“Yes Master!”

“Happy Birthday Master”

“Happy Birthday Babe”

“We love you Master”

“Wish upon a star”

“This is impossible “

“Master! It’s possible “

The steel gates shake causing me stir in to the backyard as I reach the gate to see this man who is madly in love with me from what I can see and he falls to his knees to serve me in the longterm.

“Hey babe! May I ….”

“Join me…you mean?”

“Yes hottie!”

“Are you ok? You look dazed “

“I don’t get out much”

“Boi?”

“Are you frozen?”

“….”

“The fuck”

“Stay where you are “

“Keep busy guys “

“Yes Sir”

“Walk inside and strip “

“Go swimming and entertain me”

“This will be interesting “

“That body…yyyuuummm”

“I want to rip him open “

“Move back and I will take a dive “

I swam back up, wiping my face off of water from my face as I smirk and I begin noticing this fool now standing in front of me with this waiting for me at the edge of the pool where he helps me up. He throws a towel in to his hands beginning to wipe me down in all of his effort to make me appear squeaky clean wiggle smirk and quickly hugging me so tightly.

“It was a flash of light “

“Two seconds passed”

“It flashed me”

“Time stopped “

“They began to flow “

“My mind went blank “

“My body collapsed “

“I lost control “

“I was erased “

“My birthday boy”

“Yes!”

“I can’t forget you “

“I am obsessed “

“I love you “

“My king”

“Submit “

“Entirely”

“Thank you sir “

The end

[pedrotonin]

B R I N G T H E W H I S K E Y

Summary: Joel catches you stealing from his brother. He ensures the punishment fits the crime.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader

Rating: R

Warnings: Minors DNI! 18+ Joel is not a nice person. Smut.

Word count: 1200+

You arrived at Jackson only a few days ago. A group of men on horses scared the living shit out of you while you were hunting for some much needed food. You tried to hide, but they found you, or rather their dog did. It growled and barked, and you had no choice but to show yourself. They'd screamed and pointed their guns at you and threatened to let the dog attack. While you cowered in front of them, thinking your last minute on this godforsaken planet had finally arrived. It hadn't. Once they made sure you weren't infected, they brought you over to their settlement. They took your gun and knife, but you got to keep the rest of your belongings.

A guy named Tommy told you you were welcome to stay, but also free to leave. That was after they held you hostage in a prison like building for a couple of days. Wanting to make sure nobody would come for you. Nobody did, so Tommy took you under his wing. He said he was going to get you your own house, but until then, you were welcome to stay in one of his spare bedrooms. That's where you were currently sitting on the bed, looking at raindrops cascading down the window.

Tommy and his wife had been really kind to you. They'd not only let you stay at their house, but also shared their food and clothes with you. It was nice. They were nice. But you didn't like being here. Actually, you hated it.

You hated people in general. Being let down so many times in your life, you trusted no one anymore. Not easily anyway. That's why you lied when you told them your name.

Jacky. That's what you came up with. It popped in your brain while you were ogling their whiskey collection. Some of it original and some home brewed. You had a couple of good night sleeps and a full stomach, so it was time to leave.

You would wait until midnight and then sneak out. Taking an original bottle of Jack Daniels with you.

When they retire for the night, you wait an hour before you sneak out the front door. Goodbye Jackson.

You hear the soft snorting sound of horses coming from the stables. Horses, how could you forget. You'd steal one of those as well.

You slink towards the stables as quietly as possible. Inside, you grab a saddle and throw it on the first horse that comes into view.

The sound of a trigger being pulled freezes you, and you feel the cold metal of the gun against the back of your head.

"The fuck you think you're doin'."

A deep, male voice, just behind you.

You don't immediately answer him, and he pushes the gun harder against your head.

"Fuckin' answer me!"

You raise your hands and slowly turn around. He is tall, and very, very angry.

"You're that kid living with Tommy," he states.

"I'm not a kid, old man. I'm fucking 25 years old," you hiss. Earning you a backhanded slap across the face.

"Give me the bag," he snarls.

You don't.

"Give.me.the.fucking.bag" he punctuates each word while taking a step towards you. Jezus, is he going to kill you?

You hand it over, and he opens it. Pulling the bottle of Jack Daniels out. Raising his eyebrows.

"What's this? You fuckin' stole this from my brother?"

Brother? Interesting.

His hand curls around your throat. Walking you backward until your back hits the wall. Then he forcefully turns you around, putting your arms behind your back, holding them with just one of his hands. The other pushes your face against the cold, wet wood.

"Ouch, you son of a bitch!" you howl. The sharp wood poking into your cheek.

"You're going to pay for this," he hisses in your ear. "They hung people for less around here."

"No. No! Take the booze! I will leave this place and you'll never see me again! I'll do anything, please!"

He stays quiet for a second. You can feel his large body hovering behind you.

"Anythin' darlin'?"

What? What is he playing at. Well, you sure as hell aren't getting yourself killed over a bottle of whiskey. So yes:

"Anything."

He smirks. His hand leaves your face to tangle in your hair, and he pulls. Hard. Your head snaps to the side.

He kicks your feet apart and moves your arms above your head. He steps closer and nudges his thigh between your legs.

"Be careful what you wish for," he breathes in your ear. You can't help yourself, you outright moan.

"You like being manhandled like this, sugar? Just my luck."

He presses his whole body against your back, pushing his hard cock against your ass.

"Feel that?"

You lower yourself on his thigh a bit more and start grinding it. Hell, it's been so long.

"Fuckin' slut," he whispers.

His hand opens the button of your jeans and he reaches inside to cup your pussy through your underwear. Finding you wet. He tuts.

"If you run, I'll kill you." He lets go of your arms and grabs your shoulders to turn you around.

You take a better look at him. His mustache and beard are streaked with grey. His hair is curly, also greying. Eyes brown, dark, filled with anger and lust. He's much older than you, but handsome. Tall, strong.

"On your knees."

You do as you're told. He opens his jeans and pulls his cock out. It slaps against your chin. Christ, he's big.

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out and he wastes absolutely no time, putting his leaking cock inside. You close your lips around him and begin to suck him off.

He grabs your head and fucks your face. You choke and gasp for air. He lets you for a moment but then he pushes himself back inside, hitting your troat. Strings of saliva run down your chin and your eyes water while you struggle to breathe.

"Fuck!!" he moans and without warning he comes. Thick, white ropes of his cum hit your tongue and your troat. You swallow all of it.

You think he'll maybe let you leave now, but he's not finished with you yet. He pulls you to your feet and pushes you against the wall again. He rips your jeans and panties down and drops to his knees behind you.

"What are you d-"

His tongue licks a fat stripe over your dripping cunt. Words fail you, only a loud gasp escapes.

He grabs your thighs and burries his whole face between your legs. Eating you out like a man starved. Pushing one, two and even a third finger deep inside you. Fingering you hard and assaulting your clit with his tongue. It doesn't take very long until you feel your orgasm crash over you. You scream while your pussy contracts around his fingers. He takes them out of you and starts to lick them clean. Slurping as he does. Your eyes widen at the sight.

"I have a better idea," he says while he pulls your jeans up and puts his cock back inside his own.

"You come live at my place. I'll keep you safe and you keep my cock warm."

You stare at him. Is he for real?

"Bring the whiskey," he says as he walks out.

You smile and follow him. Yes, this could work.

[miniteezez]

Pumpkin spice and everything nice.

P.Seonghwa x fem reader

Warnings: over working, self doubt, over thinking

Fluffy. Established relationship

Synopsis: Your boyfriend comes to help in your hour of need, even if you didn't realise.

Your fingers worked tirelessly at the keyboard, manicured nails making a perfect thunk with every tap. A continuous moving other illuminated your face as work upon word was typed out. You knew, realistically, that when you took on this course, it wouldn't be easy. But nothing good was easy in life. So, here you were, nearly twenty oast twelve in the morning. The sky was combolt, smudges if clouds just meeting the human eye. Not that you were looking, you couldn't tear you gaze from your assignment. You didn't even hear the loud keys jangling, or the apartment door open. Not even did you notice the footsteps drawing in.

"(Y/N)?" The sudden voice causing you to squeak, jumping in your seat and turning to find seonghwa. His brows were furrowed in concern, eyes raking over your appearance.

"Im sorry love, i didnt mean to scare you." He smiled apologetically, making his way to your side. Leaning down, he placed a kiss to your temple making you simper in return.

"Its alright." Your voice was horse. When was the last time you spoke? You couldn't even remember. Definitely not that day, at least.

"I thought something had happened. You haven't answered me for three days." Upon hearing this, your heart sunk. Here you were, so focused on work that you'd forgotten everything else. Including your own boyfriend.

"I'm sorry. I have an assignment due." His face softened, a hand caressing your hair affectionately. Seonghwa looked at the screen, reading your work and Humming.

"You're so skilled, my love. You deserve a break though. When did you last eat? Or drink?" You paused, contemplating his question. Finding you're unable to answer, the male stood and pulled you with him.

"Come on. We're going out." He draped a large hoodie, his hoodie, around your shoulders. Whilst he helped you to put it on, you stared up in confusion.

"Going where? It's midnight." Even so, you threw on your shoes and followed him to the door.

"Theres a little coffee shop up the street, it's twenty four hours." His hand intertwined with yours, towing you along and down the stairs od your accommodation. As soon as the doors opened, the cold hit like a ton of bricks. Seonghwa chuckled, tugging you into his side and starting the small commute.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, resting your head against the front of his coat. All Seonghwa did was grin, keeping you close as possible.

"That's such a silly question. Because I care about you. I can't let my girlfriend suffer." You stopped walking, making the older stop too. He tilted his head in question.

"I wasn't suffering." The man sighed again, standing directly in front of you now.

"You're exhausted. I can tell. Don't deny it." Shaking your head, he just carried on.

"When did you last eat? Can you even answer that?" You stayed silent, giving him your answer. Tears lined your vision, everything finally settling on your shoulders. It was only now you could feel the sting in your eyes, the ache in your hands and back. Plus, you felt dizzy. Seonghwa brought you into his chest, arms encasing you as blocking out the cold.

"Let me take care of you, OK?" Nodding into his embrace, he moved you back just enough to press his lips against yours. As you relaxed against him, seonghwa couldn't help but smile into the kiss.

"Lets get you a hot drink, hm?" You bobbed your head, smiling along with him and letting him finally get you to the cafe. A bell jingled as you stepped inside, the smell of coffee inviting you into the warmth. You both walked across the maroon floor boards towards the counter, scanning the menu with interest. A young lady patiently awaited your order, not used to seeing students out so late.

"Could I get a maple hot chocolate, please? And a ginger cookie." She wrote that down before turning to seonghwa. His lips pursed as his spoke.

"A pumpkin spice latte with a chocolate muffin. Thanks." He thrust his card against the reader before you could move then proceeded to laugh at your expression.

"Let me treat you, love." Hand grasping your own, he tugged you over to a love seat and sat down. Falling next to him, you waited until his jacket was off before shuffling closer and hugging his waist. You two were the only customers, save for the lone gentleman in the window, reading a book. Seonghwa, entranced by your natural cuteness, wrapped his arm around you and ran his fingers through your hair.

"Tomorrow, I'm staying with you. Just to make sure you're not neglecting yourself anymore." His tone was serious, clearly still worried. Leaning into his hand, you felt content for once. All the worries of university seemed to disintegrate.

"I'd like that. You won't leave?"

"Not even for a second." He breathed, leaning down and kissing you. It was fleeting, but loving all the same. Settling against his chest, you basked in his comfort, waiting for your order. It didn't take long for the lady to bring everything over, setting it down in front of you briskly. Seonghwa wasted no time in handing you your drink, watching you blow on the steam with fondness. He held his mug, picking the chocolate off the top if his muffin. You found all his habits so endearing, making your love for the man grow tenfold. Everything he did for you only caused your heart to beat faster and emotions go haywire. But, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"How's your hot chocolate?" He asked, turning to face you. Enthusiastically, you began to not in expression of your happiness.

"Its great. Thank you." Just as you went to pick up your cookie, seonghwa laughed and gently cupped your cheek. Letting him turn your head, his thumb brushed under your lip and your cheeks turned crimson.

"Whipped cream." Shyly, you bit into your cookie, letting your boyfriend smirk to himself. He loved to see you flustered and counted each time as a small victory for himself. Though, you'd let it slide for now, as you were happy. Happy he was by your side. Resting your head on his shoulder, you let your eyes closed and inhaled deeply.

"I wish we could do this every night." You mumbled, trying not to think of your studies. Frowning, seonghwa held you flush to his side.

"Just think, after uni, we can do this whenever you like."  Relaxing, you gazed up at the male hopefully.

"Really?" Scoffing slightly in amusement, hwa placed a small kiss to the tip of your nose.

"Really. We have the rest of our lives. My love."