#so I'll have them around and also just in case I really do end up needing them

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Forest Guardian pt.2

Daryl Dixon x reader [pt.1]

Your second day in the woods goes nowhere near how you thoight it would go, but at least it ends nicely.

Teeny bit of nsfw at the start.

Back behind the curtain to the makeshift sink and cleaning station Daryl took a couple of minutes to make sure you had fallen asleep and unfolded the magazine he grabbed before. Merle insisted in stashing some dirty magazines in his supply drops from time to time. "In case he got lonely."

Not that he really used them, he didn't care for it at all. But now with you hanging around all day and showing him care he felt it affecting him. Luckily he still knew how to behave and not hop into bed to have his way with you.

So he had to make do with the models on the pages to satisfy his urges. If he covered their faces he could imagine it was your nude body he was staring at while he worked himself to his release as quietly as possible. His hand would never feel as good as yours. Or maybe your lips, even if he was kind enough to you. The idea alone was enough to help him over the edge, finishing all over his hand.

He felt disgusting after he cleaned himself up. When he got back he could barely fall asleep, hyper aware of you just a few feet away, sleeping in his cot, on his mattress. Under his blanket.

Morning couldn't arrive fast enough, even his dreams were plagued with images of you and he woke up feeling like hell had finally gotten its nasty claws on him. He needed to busy himself with something, whatever he could find to distract his mind. So he chose to start preparing for today's hunting trip. He'd have you come along to help foraging so you needed a bag for yourself too. And tools for hunting, gathering plants and also for protection. He wouldn't admit it, but he was having fun with it.

Daryl was already up when you awoke, he was quietly emptying a small bag.

You stretched and yawned, sitting up slowly. "Morning.." your voice was scrapy and your back sore. "Man, how do you have a spine left with this bed?"

He turned to face you, a soft huff of a laugh leaving him. "City girl whinin'."

You almost took offense, but shrugged it off, not having the energy to argue right now. You'd have to get used to living with a shitty bed if you were going to stay.

"So, what's the plan? Do you have food?" You were slouched over on the cot, already cranky with how your stomach was actively grumbling for food, and the lack of fancy breakfast and coffee.

"Get up 'n I'll get ya food. Goin' out after."

You worked yourself off the cot and towards Daryl who had moved around and handed you a piece of jerky.

"This is breakfast?" You eyed the slab with caution, turning it on your hands with uncertanty. "I seriously hope this is just wild boar or something." You wiggled the piece of dried meat at him, and before you had a chance to pull your hand back Daryl had snatched the food from your hand. "F'ya don' wan'it I'll eat it."

"What? No! Give it please.." You drew out the wine, pouting at him and got the jerky back, gnawing on it to still your hunger.

When you were finally ready to head out, which took way too long according to Daryl, you two were out the door.

"So, where are we going? You're barely sharing anything here." You were following his steps, a shaking hand still holding onto the bag he gave you.

"Yer gon' need this." Daryl had given you a small crossbody bag earlier and showed you its contents one by one.

A small knife, for foraging. Plants only.

A large hunting knife, for meat.

And a handgun. "Daryl, why am I taking this?"

You didn't even want to touch it, but Daryl made sure to show you how to hold it properly, even if it bothered him to hell and back to have to get so up close and personal with you and keep his body under control.

"Yer goin' out in the woods. Ya need protection." He had placed everything in the bag and handed it to you. "An' I ain't handin' y'a shotgun." He slung his own weapon over his shoulder, a throwing axe strapped to his waist along with his knives and a crossbow in his hand.

"I got you. You got a whole arsenal. Why do I need the gun.." It was clear you weren't comfortable with it. Still you were outside with him, heading into the woods to do god knows what.

Watching your step quickly became watching his broad shoulders move in his tight long sleeve shirt. You didn’t even hear him talk to you until he stopped because of you not responding and walked straight into his back.

“M try’na be nice ‘ere, takin’ y’out the door an’ y’aint even listnin’.” His one good eye stared into your soul, intimidating being an understatement and having you immediately straighten up and nod vigorously. “Yes! No, I'm sorry..” You stared at your shoes and got a pat on the shoulder, leading you to move on.

You were the one gathering the edible plants while Daryl was off but still in view, hunting an animal you didn’t see. Busying yourself plucking the plant as instructed you were caught off guard by a gunshot, a pained grunt and screams of agony that made you shoot up and go check the situation. You saw Daryl first, hunched over and bleeding with a dead guy who had an axe buried in his chest.

A second guy was staring In panic before turning on his heels and running off.

“Shoot ‘em. For fuck’s sake!” You set off in a sprint, hands shaking as you dug for the gun, talking yourself into doing it for real, doing it to save Daryl. You followed his path, having stopped running and looked through the sight as Daryl showed you and pulled the trigger.

You missed.

The shot was close enough to make him jump as lose his footing. You had to do it now, there was no other choice.

You took the shot with shaking hands, but it hit. You did what Daryl asked of you.

Daryl. “Fuck.”

Leaving the body you set out to sprint back to where he got attacked and saw him lay on his back, the shirt he wore torn up to bind his bleeding wound. He saw you come into view and gave you new instructions.

“Merle, get ‘im fer me.” He was in a lot of pain, so you insisted in helping him dit up against a tree. “How? My car is gone, remember?” You had a whole fit this morning before you set out, not seeing your car where you parked it the day before.

“Walkie, cabinet next to the door..” His hand weakly smacked your shoulder to set you in motion, watching you run off in the direction of the cabin.

You found the thing fairy quick, pressing the button and calling out. “Merle? Are you there?”

Answer. Again. “Merle! Daryl needs help for fuck’s sake, answer this thing.”

“Merle!” Your voice was shaking when he answered.

“The hell’s a lady’s voice callin’ on mah brother’s channel. Ain’cha supposed ta be dead?”

Wait, dead? “What the fuck dude? You sent me there on purpose?” You were fuming now, blood boiling but there was no time to fight. “Get your ass over here, Daryl got shot and he needs help”

You wanted to toss the walkie in frustration, but kept it on you as you went through your bag for the simple first aid kit you took and ran back to where you left Daryl.

He came into view in the distance was still sitting against the tree, head slumped to the side. You almost tripped over your own feet as your stomach turned itself inside out and you fell to your knees, puking up that little thing you ate for breakfast. Tears ran down your face and you couldn’t stop the sobbing but you had to get up and move on. Daryl needed you.

Wiping your mouth with your sleeve you got back up and got to his side, unpacking the kit but finding nothing that you knew how to use to patch a bullet wound. You had used up some stuff already to patch his previous wounds that by now weren't even bothering him anymore.

All you could do now was press the leftover gauze to the wound and wait for Merle to arrive.

It didn't take long for the pickup truck to arrive and Merle hopping out to check his brother's wounds. "Gotta load 'im in the back, help me wouldya."

You managed to get Daryl laid in the truck bed, but watched as Merle made his way into the woods. "Where's them boys ya shot? Gotta clean 'em up 'fore we head back."

With a sigh you pointed him in the direction of the one furthest away while you took the one close by. It was a hassle and a half to get the dead weight lifted and thrown into the vehicle on your own, but you managed by the time Merle got back with the other body slung over his shoulder. You followed his movements as he tossed the body in the back with no care at all and closed the latch. "Ya watch him, I'll head to his cabin."

You got comfortable and steadied yourself for the ride, keeping a close eye on Daryl who was still breathing as of now. The ride was a short one and Daryl was on his cot with minimal issues.

You worked on getting Daryl's wound accessible while Merle quickly threw a tarp over the corpses in his truck. When he came back he saw your shaking hands and came to help immediately. "Move over, ya see an exit wound?" You shook your head, realizing you had to go fish it out of him with whatever backwoods methods you had to use.

Daryl stirred with each prod of Merle's tools, your weight barely enough to hold the man down.

"Ya gotta git'yer back into it, girlie! Can't get tha' damn bullet outta him." Merle complained about Daryl's stirring constantly until he had enough and shoved the medical tools into your hands.

"I'll hold. You pry the thing outta his side." He made you swap places and held his brother down with all his might as your shaking hands rested on Daryl's skin, needing a second to steady yourself before you could try yo get the bullet out.

"Ya got this. Slow 'n steady, jus' like tha'." Merle's voice had gone soft and almost comforting in a way, it helped your nerves and after some gut wrenching moments you got the bullet out and leaving a gross, bleeding hole. "Tha's it, now press this on."

He handed you a cloth to press on the wound. "Ya know how ta sew?"

You looked at him with true horror in your eyes while he dug for thread and a needle, but nodded.

“Good! Sew ‘im up ‘fore he bleeds out.” One of his hands moved to hold the cloth in place until you got your nerves in check while to other one handed you the items to close Daryl’s wounds.

With an intake of breath you squeezed Daryl’s flesh together, and pushed the needle through as you breathed out.

In. Squeeze. Out. Thread.

A few more times to close the wound entirely, snipping the thread as Merle worked to patch up the stitches with a gauze and medical tape.

Merle didn’t stick around much long after. He helped you clean up and left some supplies behind for you, giving you something that sounded like an apology before heading out the door.

You were alone now.

Daryl had passed out while you sewed the wound shut and was snoozing away comfortably now. Or at least he looked comfortable.

You went to pull a blanket over his body when you remembered his wounds from yesterday, deciding now that he was out of it anyways you’d tend to those as well. You thanked him quietly for wearing a sleeveless shirt, being able to reach the wound on his upper arm easily.

You unwrapped the bandage and found the wound healed enough to leave it uncovered.

It had been less than twenty-four hours and his wound looked like it had done a week's worth of healing.

You left it as is, and went to unwrap the wound on his torso for an inspection too. That one had the same, one day old and no longer in need of covering up.

'The hell?' You were unsure how to react to what you were seeing. This shouldn't be possible, right? No one has such good health that those'd heal so quick, especially not someone living in the woods. No way that's a side effect of cannibalism.

"Tha's twice ya saved me, now." Daryl's tired voice made you jump up and away from the cot, but his wince as he let out a laugh had you back at his side in a second.

"You should sleep some more, moving's bad for the wound." Your hand rested on his chest, a kind gesture to accompany your suggestion. A deep sigh left Daryl's lips as he got comfortable, laying on his back a bit off to the side of the cot. But not without grabbing a fistful of your sweater and pulling you down against his uninjured side, moving you without any trouble. "Yer joinin' me. 'Msure yer head's goin' crazy after whatya had ta do."

You couldn't protest at all, even injured he held you down with ease, so you chose to settle down beside him.

His chest was so soft, comfortable as a pillow and his whole body ran hot, like your personal heater. It was surprisingly nice to cuddle up with him.

What caught you off guard, though, was the feeling of Daryl's lips softly pressing against your forehead. You didn't dare to move, shock taking over and keeping you frozen in place. You tried to focus on your breathing but all you could focus on was the touch of his lips, the shape of his scars prominent against your skin.

It didn't feel like any other kisses you had ever gotten. Not because of Daryl's scarred face, but because of the feeling it brought you. It radiated a comfortable fuzzy feeling that had you doze off in a matter of minutes.

[marksbear2]

Holy moly, mate! Your Steven Grant fanfiction was so DELICIOUS! Also, can I request another Steven Grant x male reader? Bottom Steven for the soul! When you have time of course!

I saw your reblog of that fic I wrote it made me laugh. Your flattering me and I have no problem with doing you a favor.

warnings ⚠️Stressed out reader, dirty talk, smut, fingering, riding, lingerie Steven, kinky and romantic.⚠️

SUB STEVEN GRANT X TOP MALE READER

Laying on the living room couch reading his book waiting for his husband to come home since he has an surprise waiting for him. Steven's head pops up from his book once he hears the front door click open and the sound of getting shut.

Steven takes the right corner on the top of the page and bends it so he can remember his page and closes the book before rushing out of his desk to greet his husband.

"Y/n! Welcome back home." Steven greets with a smile standing close to Y/n. "Hey baby, I missed you." Y/n says before putting down his suit case and wraps his arms around Steven. Steven could feel how tense and see how tired Y/n was. "How was work?" Steven asks softly cupping Y/n's face with his hands. 

"Just stressful and tiring. But it's nothing you should worry about my love." Y/n says trying to reassure him at the end, 

"Love the robe by the way Steven." Y/n says complimenting him with a sweet kiss on the lips. Steven returns the kiss before taking Y/n's arm and leads him to the bedroom.  

Steven drags Y/n to the bed before sitting him down on the edge bed. Steven spreads Y/n's legs open and stands between them already blushing like a mad man. Steven slowly begins to undo the robe.

Steven lets the robe slowly roll off his shoulders showing off the beautiful see through white top of the lingerie. Steven's body squirms feeling Y/n's eyes stare at his chest and nipples. Finally the robe falls onto the floor behind Steven. The panties of the lingerie have the initials of Y/n name, but Y/n wasn't paying attention to it though only looking at Steven's hard cock inside of it. 

"God Steven...What is this all bout? You're making me feel like our wedding night again." Y/n teases with a wink causing Steven to let out a small giggle. 

"I'm doing this because it's my duty as a husband. I'm supposed to take care of you and help you when you feel tired and overworked. I'll do anything you'd like." Steven says with a warm smile. "Really? Anything?" Y/n says with a mischief smirk. Steven nods his head yes. 

"Alright...I want to see your ass Steven. Show me your ass." Y/n commands Steven turns his body around and bends down showing his ass. "So fucking beautiful Steven." Y/n praises running his fingers against the fabric of the lingerie. Y/n hooks the lingerie with his fingers moving the lingerie to the side getting a good look of Steven's hole. 

"You even prepped yourself. Such a good boy for me." Y/n seeing some of the lube leaks. "Cmon spread yourself open, so I can get a better look." Steven does what he's told using his fingers to spread open his hole. "Now would you lay on the bed for me?" Steven quickly moves to the bed laying down on the bed. 

"God Steven. I can't just get over how beautiful you look. I'm such a lucky man to be married to a man like you baby~" Y/n praises using his hands to rub circles on Steven's hips. 

"I-its for you to enjoy." Steven stutters out feeling his whole body get warm and fuzzy. Y/n taps on Steven's inner thigh signaling him to open them. Steven spreads open his legs before looking down at Y/n.

Y/n begins to kiss and bite Steven's thighs marking them as his. He leaves hickeys and other bite marks on them. After has enough parking him he goes up to Steven's chest. Y/n begins to grope Steven's chest through the lingerie. Y/n uses his free hand to pull down the bra then moves his hand around his nipples pulling them and twisting them. 

Steven squirms and moans softly as Y/n teases him.

Y/n watches with curiosity looking down at Steven's aching cock. It twitches rapidly inside the lingerie desperately trying to be let out. "You've been edging yourself huh baby?" Y/n asks moving his left hand down guiding it down touching Steven's chest and stomach until he reaches his crotch. "Yes sir! F-for hours." Steven weakly moans out. 

"Really? For hours baby you waited for me to tell you to cum?" Y/n asks rubbing his hands against Steven's hard dick. Steven ignores the question as he grinds down into Y/n's hand. 

Y/n pulls his hand away with a slight evil laugh before kissing Steven's exposed stomach. Y/n begins to trail up leaving every single spot that's not covered by the lingerie leaving a sweet kiss. Once Y/n is done with that spot he begins to kiss Steven's shoulders and neck. 

After Y/n kisses Steven all over he pulls a back looking down at Steven taking everything in. Y/n pulls down the bottom part of the lingerie letting Steven's cock fly free.

"Cum. Cum for me Steven." Y/n commands. Steven lets out a few whimpers before throwing his head back. "Can y-you please touch me." Steven whimpers. "No baby. I told you to cum now do it." 

Steven lets out a loud moan before cumming hard. Steven's cock shoots long white streaks of cum. "Gah!~ oh fuck oh fuck! aHhhH" 

To Steven it feels never ending. His legs tremble as he rides out his orgasm. Steven felt his whole body become weak from his intense orgasm. Steven's upper body was covered in his own cum. 

Steven's cock was still hard twitching making it more sensitive. To see is he actually sensitive Y/n tugs on Steven's cock watching Steven arch his back and let out a moan. 

As Steven tries to calm down from his own high Y/n begins to strip out of his clothes while Steven is in pure bliss. Once Y/n was fully naked he spit into his hand jerking off his cock making it wet enough for Steven. 

Once Y/n thought it was enough he lined up his cock to Steven's entrance. Y/n slowly moves the tip in and out trying to be as gentle as he can. 

Soon enough Y/n moves deeper into Steven at a slow pace. Y/n leans his body forward so he's close to Steven close enough to kiss him and hear him. 

"How are we doing Steven." Y/n whispers into his ear slowly thrusting inside him. "G-good. You feel so good sir." Steven moans out in pure bliss. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for Steven. Y/n wasn't the most gentle and sweet man during sex, but when he is it's great and beautiful for the both of them.

"You feel so good for me Steven. You're such a great husband for this Steven." Y/n praises moving his cock even deeper inside Steven. 

Steven wraps his arms around Y/n's shoulders holding him tight. 

Y/n rocks his hips back and forth trying to be as gentle as he can. Y/n moves his face to the crook of Steven's neck kissing it softly. "Fuck. F-fuck." Y/n groans out as Steven feels his cock twitch inside him. 

Y/n begins to pick up his pace, but not too fast or rough. Y/n's thrust was at a perfect speed for him to reach his peak. 

"Steven~ ohh~ fuck Steven. I'm close." Y/n says with a moan moving his hands onto either sides of the bed holding onto the sheets tightly as he fucks deep, but gentle inside Steven. 

"Stevey!~ fuck baby! I'm about to cum!" Y/n warns feeling Steven scratching and holding onto his back. Steven could feel his own cock about to cum as well. With a few more thrust Y/n cums deep inside Steven burying his seed deep inside him. Steven wanted to cum right there and then, but he stopped himself. He wanted to be a good husband for Y/n and cum on his command. 

"Y/n! can I cum? please let me cum!~ I wanna cum so bad." Steven mewls out. "Yes baby. Fuck- you can cum." Y/n tells him. Steven doesn't need to get told twice by cumming hard. 

Y/n helps him out by using his free hand to jerk him off. Steven bolts his hips into Y/n's hand cumming all over his hand and himself. 

"Y-Y/n! I love you! I love you so much." Steven cries out throwing his head back. 

"I love you to Steven."

THE END

[applejarjar]

I am SO EXCITED FOR THIS PROJECT

this thing is gonna kick absolute ass

all this time painstakingly working with my least favorite ring size is really gonna pay off I think!

I'll have to pivot ever so slightly because of the pins I just got in the mail, but overall it looks exactly how I was hoping it would :D

[reiderwriter]

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were. 

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized. 

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight. 

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-” 

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.” 

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot. 

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans. 

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.” 

“Turn around.” 

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day. 

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist. 

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.” 

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest. 

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him). 

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all. 

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you. 

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life. 

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention. 

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet. 

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-” 

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.” 

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on. 

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter. 

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question. 

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?” 

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?” 

xxxxx 

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance. 

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime. 

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character. 

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave. 

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view. 

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair. 

A girl could dream. 

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.” 

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw. 

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?” 

“I don't hit women.” 

“And I do? Emily, wha-” 

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame. 

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?” 

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.” 

“You make a good point, shall we begin?” 

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?” 

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it. 

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane. 

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head. 

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight  but not bruising yet. 

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?” 

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs. 

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.” 

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.” 

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention. 

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little. 

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints. 

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again. 

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow. 

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes. 

“Y/N, put it down.” 

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab. 

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.” 

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward. 

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged. 

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat. 

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun. 

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning. 

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?” 

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat. 

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back. 

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.” 

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties. 

“I can tell.” 

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute. 

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.” 

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach. 

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.” 

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better. 

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers. 

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor. 

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun. 

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.” 

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you. 

“Yes, yes, please touch me.” 

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently  urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue. 

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table. 

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.  

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy. 

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure. 

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you. 

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.” 

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window. 

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path. 

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…” 

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free. 

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick. 

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple. 

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.” 

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release. 

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him. 

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.” 

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged. 

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting. 

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls. 

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster. 

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. 

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair. 

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-” 

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.” 

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms. 

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?” 

[lisafication]

For those who might happen across this, I'm an administrator for the forum 'Sufficient Velocity', a large old-school forum oriented around Creative Writing. I originally posted this on there (and any reference to 'here' will mean the forum), but I felt I might as well throw it up here, as well, even if I don't actually have any followers.

This week, I've been reading fanfiction on Archive of Our Own (AO3), a site run by the Organisation for Transformative Works (OTW), a non-profit. This isn't particularly exceptional, in and of itself — like many others on the site, I read a lot of fanfiction, both on Sufficient Velocity (SV) and elsewhere — however what was bizarre to me was encountering a new prefix on certain works, that of 'End OTW Racism'. While I'm sure a number of people were already familiar with this, I was not, so I looked into it.

What I found... wasn't great. And I don't think anyone involved realises that.

To summarise the details, the #EndOTWRacism campaign, of which you may find their manifesto here, is a campaign oriented towards seeing hateful or discriminatory works removed from AO3 — and believe me, there is a lot of it. To whit, they want the OTW to moderate them. A laudable goal, on the face of it — certainly, we do something similar on Sufficient Velocity with Rule 2 and, to be clear, nothing I say here is a critique of Rule 2 (or, indeed, Rule 6) on SV.

But it's not that simple, not when you're the size of Archive of Our Own. So, let's talk about the vagaries and little-known pitfalls of content moderation, particularly as it applies to digital fiction and at scale. Let's dig into some of the details — as far as credentials go, I have, unfortunately, been in moderation and/or administration on SV for about six years and this is something we have to grapple with regularly, so I would like to say I can speak with some degree of expertise on the subject.

So, what are the problems with moderating bad works from a site? Let's start with discovery— that is to say, how you find rule-breaching works in the first place. There are more-or-less two different ways to approach manual content moderation of open submissions on a digital platform: review-based and report-based (you could also call them curation-based and flag-based), with various combinations of the two. Automated content moderation isn't something I'm going to cover here — I feel I can safely assume I'm preaching to the choir when I say it's a bad idea, and if I'm not, I'll just note that the least absurd outcome we had when simulating AI moderation (mostly for the sake of an academic exercise) on SV was banning all the staff.

In a review-based system, you check someone's work and approve it to the site upon verifying that it doesn't breach your content rules. Generally pretty simple, we used to do something like it on request. Unfortunately, if you do that, it can void your safe harbour protections in the US per Myeress vs. Buzzfeed Inc. This case, if you weren't aware, is why we stopped offering content review on SV. Suffice to say, it's not really a realistic option for anyone large enough for the courts to notice, and extremely clunky and unpleasant for the users, to boot.

Report-based systems, on the other hand, are something we use today — users find works they think are in breach and alert the moderation team to their presence with a report. On SV, this works pretty well — a user or users flag a work as potentially troublesome, moderation investigate it and either action it or reject the report. Unfortunately, AO3 is not SV. I'll get into the details of that dreadful beast known as scaling later, but thankfully we do have a much better comparison point — fanfiction.net (FFN).

FFN has had two great purges over the years, with a... mixed amount of content moderation applied in between: one in 2002 when the NC-17 rating was removed, and one in 2012. Both, ostensibly, were targeted at adult content. In practice, many fics that wouldn't raise an eye on Spacebattles today or Sufficient Velocity prior to 2018 were also removed; a number of reports suggest that something as simple as having a swearword in your title or summary was enough to get you hit, even if you were a 'T' rated work. Most disturbingly of all, there are a number of — impossible to substantiate — accounts of groups such as the infamous Critics United 'mass reporting' works to trigger a strike to get them removed. I would suggest reading further on places like Fanlore if you are unfamiliar and want to know more.

Despite its flaws however, report-based moderation is more-or-less the only option, and this segues neatly into the next piece of the puzzle that is content moderation, that is to say, the rubric. How do you decide what is, and what isn't against the rules of your site?

Anyone who's complained to the staff about how vague the rules are on SV may have had this explained to them, but as that is likely not many of you, I'll summarise: the more precise and clear-cut your chosen rubric is, the more it will inevitably need to resemble a legal document — and the less readable it is to the layman. We'll return to SV for an example here: many newer users will not be aware of this, but SV used to have a much more 'line by line, clearly delineated' set of rules and... people kind of hated it! An infraction would reference 'Community Compact III.15.5' rather than Rule 3, because it was more or less written in the same manner as the Terms of Service (sans the legal terms of art). While it was a more legible rubric from a certain perspective, from the perspective of communicating expectations to the users it was inferior to our current set of rules  — even less of them read it,  and we don't have great uptake right now.

And it still wasn't really an improvement over our current set-up when it comes to 'moderation consistency'. Even without getting into the nuts and bolts of "how do you define a racist work in a way that does not, at any point, say words to the effect of 'I know it when I see it'" — which is itself very, very difficult don't get me wrong I'm not dismissing this — you are stuck with finding an appropriate footing between a spectrum of 'the US penal code' and 'don't be a dick' as your rubric. Going for the penal code side doesn't help nearly as much as you might expect with moderation consistency, either — no matter what, you will never have a 100% correct call rate. You have the impossible task of writing a rubric that is easy for users to comprehend, extremely clear for moderation and capable of cleanly defining what is and what isn't racist without relying on moderator judgement, something which you cannot trust when operating at scale.

Speaking of scale, it's time to move on to the third prong — and the last covered in this ramble, which is more of a brief overview than anything truly in-depth — which is resources. Moderation is not a magic wand, you can't conjure it out of nowhere: you need to spend an enormous amount of time, effort and money on building, training and equipping a moderation staff, even a volunteer one, and it is far, far from an instant process. Our most recent tranche of moderators spent several months in training and it will likely be some months more before they're fully comfortable in the role — and that's with a relatively robust bureaucracy and a number of highly experienced mentors supporting them, something that is not going to be available to a new moderation branch with little to no experience. Beyond that, there's the matter of sheer numbers.

Combining both moderation and arbitration — because for volunteer staff, pure moderation is in actuality less efficient in my eyes, for a variety of reasons beyond the scope of this post, but we'll treat it as if they're both just 'moderators' — SV presently has 34 dedicated moderation volunteers. SV hosts ~785 million words of creative writing.

AO3 hosts ~32 billion.

These are some very rough and simplified figures, but if you completely ignore all the usual problems of scaling manpower in a business (or pseudo-business), such as (but not limited to) geometrically increasing bureaucratic complexity and administrative burden, along with all the particular issues of volunteer moderation... AO3 would still need well over one thousand volunteer moderators to be able to match SV's moderator-to-creative-wordcount ratio.

Paid moderation, of course, you can get away with less — my estimate is that you could fully moderate SV with, at best, ~8 full-time moderators, still ignoring administrative burden above the level of team leader. This leaves AO3 only needing a much more modest ~350 moderators. At the US minimum wage of ~$15k p.a. — which is, in my eyes, deeply unethical to pay moderators as full-time moderation is an intensely gruelling role with extremely high rates of PTSD and other stress-related conditions — that is approximately ~$5.25m p.a. costs on moderator wages. Their average annual budget is a bit over $500k.

So, that's obviously not on the table, and we return to volunteer staffing. Which... let's examine that scenario and the questions it leaves us with, as our conclusion.

Let's say, through some miracle, AO3 succeeds in finding those hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of volunteer moderators. We'll even say none of them are malicious actors or sufficiently incompetent as to be indistinguishable, and that they manage to replicate something on the level of or superior to our moderation tooling near-instantly at no cost. We still have several questions to be answered:

How are you maintaining consistency? Have you managed to define racism to the point that moderator judgment no longer enters the equation? And to be clear, you cannot allow moderator judgment to be a significant decision maker at this scale, or you will end with absurd results.

How are you handling staff mental health? Some reading on the matter, to save me a lengthy and unrelated explanation of some of the steps involved in ensuring mental health for commercial-scale content moderators.

How are you handling your failures? No moderation in the world has ever succeeded in a 100% accuracy rate, what are you doing about that?

Using report-based discovery, how are you preventing 'report brigading', such as the theories surrounding Critics United mentioned above? It is a natural human response to take into account the amount and severity of feedback. While SV moderators are well trained on the matter, the rare times something is receiving enough reports to potentially be classified as a 'brigade' on that scale will nearly always be escalated to administration, something completely infeasible at (you're learning to hate this word, I'm sure) scale.

How are you communicating expectations to your user base? If you're relying on a flag-based system, your users' understanding of the rules is a critical facet of your moderation system — how have you managed to make them legible to a layman while still managing to somehow 'truly' define racism?

How are you managing over one thousand moderators? Like even beyond all the concerns with consistency, how are you keeping track of that many moving parts as a volunteer organisation without dozens or even hundreds of professional managers? I've ignored the scaling administrative burden up until now, but it has to be addressed in reality.

What are you doing to sweep through your archives? SV is more-or-less on-top of 'old' works as far as rule-breaking goes, with the occasional forgotten tidbit popping up every 18 months or so — and that's what we're extrapolating from. These thousand-plus moderators are mostly going to be addressing current or near-current content, are you going to spin up that many again to comb through the 32 billion words already posted?

I could go on for a fair bit here, but this has already stretched out to over two thousand words.

I think the people behind this movement have their hearts in the right place and the sentiment is laudable, but in practice it is simply 'won't someone think of the children' in a funny hat. It cannot be done.

Even if you could somehow meet the bare minimum thresholds, you are simply not going to manage a ruleset of sufficient clarity so as to prevent a much-worse repeat of the 2012 FF.net massacre, you are not going to be able to manage a moderation staff of that size and you are not going to be able to ensure a coherent understanding among all your users (we haven't managed that after nearly ten years and a much smaller and more engaged userbase). There's a serious number of other issues I haven't covered here as well, as this really is just an attempt at giving some insight into the sheer number of moving parts behind content moderation:  the movement wants off-site content to be policed which isn't so much its own barrel of fish as it is its own barrel of Cthulhu; AO3 is far from English-only and would in actuality need moderators for almost every language it supports — and most damning of all,  if Section 230 is wiped out by the Supreme Court  it is not unlikely that engaging in content moderation at all could simply see AO3 shut down.

As sucky as it seems, the current status quo really is the best situation possible. Sorry about that.

[sanctus-ingenium]

we need to talk about Inprnt.com

Following a really good post with more screenshots and evidence by @dynasoar5 i'm going to talk about my own experiences with @inprnt and why I am about to put my shop on indefinite hiatus from Monday the 14th of August.

First of all I'll say that since starting my print shop last year it has been a significant help to me financially - I was able to not worry about affording car insurance or motor tax (together commonly over a thousand euro) when I bought my first car, for example. I am immeasurably grateful to anyone who chose to buy one and I treasure all the pictures I've been sent of my prints hanging up on people's walls. Right now they are displayed in a real (if small) art exhibition in my home town.

(top right print is not from inprnt though)

They're great prints. Never had any complaints about them. But here's what's going on behind the scenes.

Earlier this year, around March or April, Inprnt sales started increasing in regularity. I'd made as much as $600 a week during previous sales when I made proper promo posts here, but with this increase in regularity, I felt that I couldn't make promo posts every single week. And then one day, I'm not sure when tbh, the sale just never ended. It just didn't stop having that "Ending soon! 15% off your order" banner at the top of the site. Right now it says "Final Hours: $5 Worldwide shipping and save up to 35% off your order!" and not even for a second do I believe in this final hours bullshit. It's been 'final hours' for weeks now. Months, even.

Why is this a problem? Well, how tf am I meant to make a promo post for a sale that is always "ending soon!!" and then never ends. One week it'll say "this weekend only!!" and then when the weekend is over, the sale banner just changes its wording and the sale doesn't end. I can't promo this, it makes me look like a liar and a skeevy salesman by association! It makes the site look like it's 1 week from crashing and burning, and the site owners are just scrabbling to suck as much money from artists as possible before they drown.

And they are sucking money from us. To peel back the curtain, Inprnt money can only be transferred to my paypal account 30 days after the sale is made, just in case the order is cancelled and refunded. This means I used to make one withdrawal every couple of months, when there was enough build-up of money to make it worthwhile. It also forbids withdrawing any sum under $50 btw. I would make a withdrawal request and then, after a 10 business day wait, it would reach my Paypal account.

Not anymore! The past few withdrawals have taken over a month to complete. They are straight up keeping my earnings from me for longer the agreed period. This was my last fulfilled withdrawal:

Note the date.

Almost two months.

And here is the latest withdrawal request that still has not been fulfilled.

It's coming up on 1 month and if the pattern continues, it could literally be November or December by the time I fully clear all sales.

So what's going to happen to my print shop? Because my art is currently being exhibited with a QR code linking to the shop, I can't close the shop this week. Instead I will close it on Monday the 14th of August, next week. That means that on the 14th of September, I can withdraw all of the remaining money without having any left over. My account balance will go to 0 and stay there. Although I'll de-list my prints I will leave my account there, because at the end of the day I don't want to leave Inprnt. It still offers the best artist margins and as I'm now unemployed after graduating, the additional support is such a load off my mind. So this is a chance to wait and see - if they improve their services, I'll happily re-open.

It's a big deal to me because selling prints is sort of my ideal life as an artist. I never had the attention span or self-discipline for commission work and I found that it left me creatively stagnant. I always want to try new things, new concepts and ideas, and being able to think "yeah, people will like this as a print" while I experiment is honestly very reassuring. And I know that in going on hiatus, it'll break a lot of "buy a print" links in my circulating posts. Oh well lmao. If you want to buy a print right now - go ahead, it might be your last opportunity. Another way to support me would be to check out my ko-fi for once-off donations or some nice sketchbooks/comics/book samples you can buy, or subscribing to my Patreon.

As of right now, Inprnt owes me $381 (the unfulfilled request submitted above for $186.60 and my current standing balance of $194.80 which takes 30 days from each transaction to clear).

[yayakoishii]

Hunger | Sanji x Reader

Sanji x Reader; Fluff...?

No pronouns used but written with a fem reader in mind. Reader is referred to as a woman or lady at times, but nothing else so you can ignore it if you want!

wc: 2.2k

a/n: super super self indulgent, I wrote this in an hour because I was possessed by this sudden overwhelming love for Sanji. honestly, this fic started with a different goal that where it ended but oh well. maybe I'll write another one to fully convey what I started here. this is my first time writing for OP and Sanji so forgive any mistakes and oocness! enjoyyy!!

also available on ao3!

Sanji didn't know what to think of you.

At first, he had treated you like the other ladies on board and expected you to treat him the same way they did. Except you were different. In your actions, in your words, in your whole being– there was a different kind of softness, warmth and intensity.

It started with you just giving him warm smiles and soft thank yous whenever he brought out a new drink or dish for them to enjoy. The way you always maintained eye contact while doing it left him feeling a little stunned for some reason, and it almost always ended up with him fainting from the loss of blood. And then the way you would be worried over it, even though everyone else just ignored it once he was under Chopper's hands.

You stayed there until he was okay enough to go back to the kitchen. It was just a little thing, but it seemed to squeeze his heart in a painful way.

It was fine with just that, until you started tip-toeing around his territory – the kitchen. He could see you peeking through the door at times, wondering if you wanted something to eat or drink but feeling shy when it came to actually calling you out for it. It was weird– he was being weird around you, but it wasn't his fault. There was something about your ease and quiet around him that made his heart jackhammer in his chest like it was trying to beat his entire life's worth.

So he stayed quiet, pretending not to notice, until you stepped in.

And then he couldn't ignore it anymore.

You sat at the table, just giving him a small smile and nothing else. You didn't say a single word and he couldn't stop himself anymore.

"Did you want something, (y/n)-chan?" He asked gently, just in case you were feeling shy to ask for whatever it was you wanted to eat. But you just shook your head at his words, resting your chin on the backrest of the chair.

"Not really, Sanji-kun," you replied, eyes fixated on his hands, now that he finally realised it. You were looking at the food he was cooking. "I just wanted to watch you cook. Is that okay?"

The blonde chef stood there for a few seconds, stunned silent. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that. Why would you want to watch him cook? That would be a waste of your time! But before he could say as such to you, he was stopped by the earnest look in your eyes.

"I promise I won't disturb you!" You said quietly, eyes gleaming with your eagerness. He couldn't say no after that.

"Of course not, sweetheart," he finally replied, flicking his eyes downward so he doesn't keep staring at you. The face you had on was too innocent and bright, and his heart was doing that painful squeeze thingy again. "You could never disturb me."

Wrong. Your presence was very disturbing. In a good way, of course. In a way that made his insides feel like they are convoluting and rearranging themselves. In a way that made his chest feel tight and warm.

Perhaps he should have regretted saying that to you. Because you took it as a blanket permission to watch him cook everyday. You would walk in at random times after breakfast, sometimes with a book where you wrote while he cooked or empty handed like always.

And then you started talking to him.

Asking him curious little questions about the food he was cooking at first. And he would answer them as simply as he could, not wanting to confuse you. Sometimes, he saw you noting things down and wondered if you're learning to cook. But it didn't seem like that, just you and your weird fascination with watching him cook. That was fine. (That was not fine. It made him self-conscious because suddenly, he was wondering if he looked like a mess when he was cooking, something he had never doubted before.)

Then your questions turned to just telling him about random things that happened outside while he worked, or something you read in a book, or a story from your past. You talked to him like you would to any other person, but somehow, in the confines of the kitchen where he usually worked by his lonesome, it all felt doubly intimate and personal. Like you were whispering secrets straight into his ear, seeping into the crevices of his heart one drop at a time.

Somewhere along the line, he realised that he didn't feel that heart pounding feeling around any of the other women. He calmed down around them a little, and was gifted with Nami's concerned yet puzzled looks and Robin's analytical one. He played it off by avoiding the topic smoothly whenever they asked, but even they weren't blind to when this change had started to happen.

You, on the other hand, were oblivious to it. Like always, you stepped into the kitchen with more questions, this time about him, about his interests, and anything he wanted to talk about.

"...if I could go there," he paused when he realised that he had been going on and on about the All Blue for the past ten minutes while he was fluttering around the kitchen, without even seeing if you were listening. His head whipped up, cheeks red with embarrassment, only to find you looking at him intently with wide interested eyes.

And somehow, the usual squeezing feeling in his heart reversed. Now it felt like someone had cut his chest open and left its contents exposed for you to gently pick up and caress in your soft hands.

"Sorry, I rambled there for a bit," his mouth felt dry suddenly. He paused in his cooking to grab himself a glass of water.

"Why are you apologising?" You said cheerfully, scribbling something into your book as usual. "I asked you about it, Sanji-kun!"

"Still," he laughed nervously, wondering if you secretly thought he talked too much. Women liked it better when the man listened to them, right? "You probably didn't want to hear all of… that."

Your brows furrowed and you looked at him with a frown. "Why not?"

Sanji drew the glass away from his lips at your question, feeling a little lost. Did that mean you wanted to listen to him…?

"Isn't it boring for you?" He tried, readying himself to hear you affirm his statement.

"It's not boring at all," you said, shaking your pen in his direction. "You are obviously interested in it. You're passionate about it, like you're about your food, and I think that's wonderful. Hearing someone talk passionately about what they love can never be boring for me. It's like an open window into their hearts."

Sanji's heart jumped in its place at that line, wondering when was the last time someone had tried to look into his heart. He was always the one chasing after the ladies, ready to give his heart but never finding anyone who wanted it. And now you were here, wanting to know what was in his heart, wanting to know him. But what if he wasn't the only one? What if he was deluding himself into thinking that he was special to you?

"Did you ask the others about their dreams too?" He asked, hoping it came off as casually as he had wanted it to. You leaned back in the chair, nodding with a huge smile, not realising the way his heart sank at that.

"Of course I did," you said proudly, holding the book close to your chest. "Luffy gave me a place on this ship even though I had nothing to offer to the crew, just because I had nowhere else and no one else to go to. So I wanted to do something for him, and for you guys. Sanji-kun, can you keep a secret?"

"Anything for you, my love," he said without missing a beat, willing his feelings to stay beneath the surface as always. He didn't notice the way your cheeks pinked at the term, too distracted by his own thoughts.

"I'm trying to write down and compile all of your adventures till now," you stage whispered. That surprised him, and he looked at you, noticing the ink smudges on your fingers that curled around the book you had in your hands. He had noticed the smudges and marks increase over time, but he hadn't known what you were doing until now. "When Luffy becomes the King of Pirates, I want to share these adventures with the world. I want them to know the real people behind it all, not some made-up tyrannical version the Marines paint you as. I know firsthand just how kind and thoughtful every person on this ship is, and I am trying to record it in my own way."

"That's…" Sanji was speechless again. Somehow, you always managed to reduce him to that state. An unpleasant smell invaded his nostrils and he looked down, noticing that he had taken his eyes off the food for too long.

"The food!" You exclaimed, standing up from the chair and hurrying over, your book forgotten behind.

"Stay back, (y/n)-chan!" Sanji warned, not wanting you to accidentally get hurt from the hot pot. You hovered at a distance, clearly wanting to help but also not wanting to create more trouble by mistake. With deft hands, he cleared up everything, transferring the food to a different pot and taking care of the burnt one. "There we go. No need to worry, sweetheart, go sit down."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled. Sanji looked up, confused at the apology.

"What are you apologising for, (y/n)-chan?" He asked kindly, walking over to you. He stood a foot away, hesitant to touch but wanting to comfort you. How would you take it if he touched you? Would you be uncomfortable and push him away? He didn't want that. He never wanted you to feel uncomfortable or sad. Or like you had done anything wrong, when you clearly hadn't.

"I distracted you," you said guiltily, looking up at him with glossy eyes. "I promised I wouldn't."

"Don't be silly, sweetheart," he couldn't hold himself back. His left hand cupped your cheek, right one bringing his handkerchief out with a flourish to wipe away the tears welling up in your eyes. "It's not your fault. I was thinking too much, and I made a mistake."

You continued to stare up at him as he wiped the last of the tears and let go of your cheeks, hoping he hadn't crossed any boundaries.

"Sanji-kun…" Your voice was broken and he looked at you in concern. Had he done something wrong? Said something wrong? "It's unfair. It's so unfair!"

"What is, my love?" He asked, trying to figure out what you were talking about as your lips quivered. You were glaring down at the floor, clearly upset about something.

"You," you whispered. "You're unfair. Your existence is unfair. How can someone this perfect exist?"

And now, the usual hammering of his chest was replaced by his heart going stockstill, as if it was holding a breath too, at your simple words.

"The more I get to know you, the more I understand what a kind, loving and warm person you are," you rambled on, like a dam that's finally burst open. "I wanted to get to know you, more than anyone else onboard. So I lingered around, encouraged myself to talk to you. And then, every moment I spent with you just made me fall more and more in love with you. The way you fold your shirt up to your elbows, the look of concentration on your face when you're cooking, that soft look in your eyes when you're talking about food, the sheer strength in your legs when you're fighting, the immense love and respect you have for food. Every little thing about you just made me fall in love with you and I told myself to stay away, but you make it so hard to not keep coming back. I keep wanting to know more and more about you; it's like a hunger that is never satisfied no matter how much I feed it."

There was pindrop silence in the kitchen when you paused, realised what you had said and froze. Sanji's unlit cigarette fell from his lips as he stared at you, wondering if this was a wild self-torturous dream his brain had thought up to torment him with; except his brain could never imagine the way you were now flushed from head to toe, hiding your face behind widely spaced fingers. Your wide eyes peeked through the gaps, the look of utter mortification on your face visible to him even with the obstacles.

"I'm so sorr–"

He didn't let you finish. Sanji pulled you into a tight embrace, his long fingers finding purchase in the nape of your neck where your hair was. You gasped at the sudden action, heart hammering in tandem with his, suddenly realising in the close proximity that you were not the only one whose heart rate had spiked.

"I could ask you the same question, sweetheart," he wrenched himself away to stare you straight in the eyes. His hand reached back and up to hold your face again. You didn't miss the broken and vulnerable look in his eyes as he whispered the next few words, in a way like it was meant to be heard only by you.

"How can someone so perfect exist?"

[lazycats-stuff]

Bruce rescuing a reader who can shapeshift into a bat when scared, like he can hardly control it at first, he's the product of some experiment and of course Bruce has to take him in. So now Bruce finds himself with a small little bat snuggling into the crook of his neck at night because reader has a nightmare

Aw, that's adorable. Also, some cartoon bats

Summary: (Y/N) is a cute bat who can't really control it.

Warnings: human experiments, shapeshifting... Nothing too detailed.

Bruce sighed quietly as he was sitting in a Justice League meeting. He knew that human experiments will always be persistent, but they had to eradicate it. It was almost like a plague at this point and he didn't like it in the slightest.

" We don't like it either Bruce. " Wonder Woman said from the opposite side of the desk. Bruce just looked at the location that was put on the hologram screen. The lab in America, but somewhere deep in the mountains. Probably somewhere underground... If this is something that the government funds, Bruce will lose his mind.

Is he crazy enough to dress a Bat and fight criminals, assassins and God knows what else? Yes. But the government? Eh. Sort of. If Tim hears about this, he will also flip the lid. Why? Because he can finally prove some conspiracies that circulate around the government. God knows Tim didn't sleep for days, trying to prove a single theory.

Bruce lost count of having to sedate Tim just to force his ass to bed and to sleep for at least, at least, 7 hours in a single night. Not chopped up during the day, just one single damn night. Just goddamn one.

" I would like to say that Red Robin cannot know about this. " Bruce stated, just looking at the screen.

" Why can't he know about this? " Green Lantern asked.

" Because then you will sedate Red Robin, just to sleep. "

Green Lantern look at him in shock. " I beg you pardon? "

" Yup. He refuses to sleep. Sedation was the last step. " Bruce gave a vague explanation and Green Lantern decided to leave it alone. He won't question Bruce in the slightest. He won't get an answer anyway.

" So when do we depart for this mission? " Bruce asked, waiting patiently for Superman to give him an answer.

" We are going tomorrow. According to the intel, there will be resistance, so stealth is very important. " Superman said.

" So that means one of you will mess up. Stealth is something everyone in this room lacks. " Bruce stated with a dry tone and Flash wanted to argue, but knew it was true.

Stealth was something that they all lacked.

" Either way, the goal of this mission is to get information and save people who might be in there. " Superman said.

" If there will be there. " Bruce said in his ominous tone, eyes darkening at the mere thought of it. Superman knew exactly what he meant.

Killing them to cover their tracks.

" Well, I'll hold out hope that they will be alive. " Superman said, still trying to be positive, but Bruce knew it was a low chance that anyone was even alive.

But hey, you never know.

The fight in the lab was fucking tedious. Turns out, Lex Luthor created this lab. Tim is really going to have a fucking field day with this. Bruce shook his head as he made his way down to the holding cells of the League.

They managed to find one person who was alive and that was just in the nick of time. Bruce managed to take a guard down quickly and he was shocked to find a hysterical bat, flying around the lab cell before landing in his arms.

Then the said bat shifted into a human and then back into a bat. It was fun to say the least. But Bruce had no time to waste back then. He took the man and just ran with a lone survivors, while others were busy fighting.

In the end, he had to sedate them man while in human form because everything was triggering the shifting. It was to make the fly back to the League headquarters. After an hour or so, everything was quiet and lab was secured.

They finally have a case against Lex Luthor. Thank God. Bruce still held (Y/N) in his arms while waiting for the others to come. The fly back was smooth and quiet. Everyone was tired beyond belief and in no mood to talk.

Once landing at the HQ, Bruce took the man to a holding cell where doctors were waiting. Bruce called Tim and told him to get to the Batcave as soon as possible. Tim sounded exhausted, but when Lex was mentioned, he was wide awake all of a sudden.

Bruce quickly used the zeta tubes to get to the Batcave. Tim was waiting and Bruce gave him an USB stick. After explaining the situation to Tim, Bruce took a quick shower while Alfred cleaned up the suit.

It was nice and refreshing. Besides, (Y/N) will be out for a few hours anyway. Bruce finished the shower and got into a clean suit that Alfred had ever so cleaned.

" Thank you very much Alfred. " Bruce thanked him as he put on his suit.

" No problem master Bruce. I overheard you conversation with master Tim. Is there really a lone survivor? " Alfred asked and Bruce nodded.

" Yup. He can shapeshift into a bat. " Bruce said and Alfred chuckled at that.

" Batman saves a little bat. How poetic. " Alfred noted, chuckling quietly.

" Yup. I'll go back now and wait for him to wake up to talk to him to see what we can do. " Bruce explained and yawned.

" I see... Is Lex Luthor really the founder of the lab? " Alfred inquired and Bruce nodded as he took the cowl in his hands.

" Yes he is. We finally have a case against him. " Bruce said proudly.

" Is that why master Tim is currently happy? " Alfred asked, glancing at his grandson, who was on the batcomputer, just typing away happily, a cup of coffee near.

" The moment he is done, please sedate him. " Bruce whispered and Alfred chuckled.

" Already ahead of you master Bruce. " Alfred whispered back and Bruce nodded as he put his cowl back on.

And the rest was history. Bruce learned that the little bat's name was (Y/N) and Bruce said that he would take him in. Of course Bruce would take the little bat in. They boys had so much fun with (Y/N) watching him shift.

But one thing that they recognized was the fact that (Y/N) couldn't control his shifting. If he got too scared, he would shift. Too anxious? You have a little bat on your hands.

Soon enough, Bruce fell in love and moved him into his bedroom so they could share a bed. Bruce was more than happy and so was (Y/N). But (Y/N), more often then not, had nightmares from his time in the lab.

And that's why (Y/N) was currently a little bat, moving closer to Bruce's neck. It wasn't to take a bite, it was to snuggle into it. Bruce smile, facing the little bat, but eyes were still closed. (Y/N) snuggled closer, folding himself in a ball and just sighing quietly.

Bruce smiled more as the feeling of his neck being tickled.

" A nightmare? " Bruce asked quietly and (Y/N) just gave a little chirp in return. Bruce gently patted (Y/N) before falling asleep again. This was going to be something very nice in the long run and Bruce couldn't wait.

[circe69]

Could I please request 21.) zipping up a dress for you - "what, is the zipper stuck or something?" "no, 'm just looking." With Ghost? Like I can just imagine the tension if they weren’t together yet and they were still just in a ‘will they won’t they’ situation omg 😭💕 thank you!

absolutely anon! thanks for participating in my special :)

["what, is the zipper stuck or something?" "no, 'm just looking."]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟐𝟏 - 𝐳𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - ❤︎

This was the worst-case scenario that you could possibly think of. Tonight, the Task Force was holding a banquet as a means of celebrating their recent victory, rescuing Kate Laswell back from being kidnapped. They were holding an auction, all the proceeds were to fund communities around them, specifically to help with missing kids.

The dress you were wearing, or, supposed to wear, was a little less than comfortable. A slim-fitting maroon gown that's zipper was stuck on it's on teeth, and it wasn't even halfway up your back yet.

You sighed as you stared at your backside in the mirror, most of it being completely exposed, showing off some freckles and birthmarks you completely forgot you had, and also some rather ugly scars and scratches from years past.

Thinking about who you could call, everyone was in meetings or preparing for the event themselves, all except for one person.

Ghost.

You rolled your eyes at the thought. He was an amazing solider, the best of the best, obviously, but when it came to making friends or being nice at all, he didn't know what he was doing.

It is different, and you can see that. Making conversation and willingly being kind whilst doing so wasn't the same as aiming a pistol and shooting it, but surely, he had other traits that allowed the former?

You were about to find out.

Picking up your phone in your slightly sweaty and clammy hands, you realized how stressed you really were. You dialed his number, his contact's name not even attached to it because you never bothered.

"Hello?" A deep voice spoke from the other side of the phone.

You inhaled sharply, and he immediately recognized who it was.

"Oh great, it's you," he spoke, and you could tell his mouth was stretched into a sly smile.

"Yes, it's me, I need help."

You heard Ghost shuffle around quickly, maybe even a knife being thrown out of its pocket, "What's wrong?"

Walking over to unlock the front door to hopefully let him in later, you balanced your phone between your bare shoulder and cheek, "No, nothing- nothing's seriously wrong, my dress just won't zip up and everyone else is busy."

Silence. You and Ghost marinated in it for a few seconds, and you swear you heard his tongue click against his teeth, something he only did when he was excited.

You heard him stand from his chair over the phone, "So I was the last resort? That's kinda mean, don't ya think?"

He was having a ball with this, but you on the other hand, your back was chilly and both of you had to be somewhere in less than an hour, so you wanted this show to get on the road.

"Just hurry up and GET. IN. HERE." Your words became decreased to nothing but a whispered shout at the end of your sentence, signaling how serious you were.

"Sheesh, woman, I'll be right the-"

You hung up before he could finish his sentence, and did one last look in the mirror to make sure nothing too scandalous was showing. It wasn't even 5 minutes that passed when there was a knock on your door.

"Come in," you yelled from your place in the bedroom. You heard the door creak open, "I'm in my room."

The sound of loafers clicking on your floor filled the hallway and echoing off the walls, right into your ears. You paused for a moment, realizing if Ghost was attending this event, he'd be dressed up too. That was something you weren't prepared to see.

He walked in, one hand in his pocket and the other fixing his simple black mask. No skull, no dirt, no face paint, no blood splattered. It was somehow classy. Ghost wore a regular black tux, a black tie tucked into his blazer, and a pristine white shirt peeking out from underneath it all.

It was safe to say the both of you were impressed with each other's outfits. His eyes skimmed over you, stopping right when he got to your hips. The red dress hugged them perfectly, dropping down into a regular A-line below. The train dragged on the ground, a few sparkles gently appearing at the edge.

"Wow."

You smiled at his loss for words. "Wow yourself, you look great. Now please, zip this thing up." You turned around, your bare back now facing Ghost, and his breath faltered at the sight. He took a few steps towards you without saying anything.

He was so close, you could feel his breath on your neck, it was deep and heavy, the way he was breathing. Like he was nervous, or excited, or maybe both. His hands were hesitant, but you slightly flinched as his fingers softly traced the slope of your back, slowly moving up and down. It was so soft, you weren't sure if he was even touching you at times, but instead just basking in the heat you were radiating.

"Is it really stuck? I might just have to ditch it if it's not working," you said, not sure if you were talking to yourself or him anymore.

"No, I'm - 'm just looking."

Your jaw slightly unhinged at his blatant confession. Just looking?

Finally, his fingers dipped lower to reach the zipper, and you shivered at the feeling.

"Hm. You ticklish?" He said as he slowly pulled up the zipper, leaving a finger in front so he could trace the entirety of your spine one last time.

"No," you said breathily. He didn't need to know how dizzy his touch was making you.

"Not really in any hurry, are we now?" His voice was dangerously low, seductively teasing you, and you loved it.

You shivered once more when his fingers reached the top of your back, drawing a small circle with his pointer finger on your skin.

"You have a birthmark there."

Humming in response, you turned around to face him. "Yes."

"You had a few more, but I was scared if I touched them, you'd freak out."

He started to walk out, looking both ways out the dark hallway as if he was crossing a street.

"I wouldn't freak out." You blurted, making him stop in his tracks, "You don't have to worry about that."

He nodded and said over his shoulder, "Noted."

[neptuneiris]

True Intentions | (One-shot)

Be the only one or be an 'sometimes'?

pairing: modern!aemond (best-friend brother) × fem!reader

summary: even knowing his reputation, you've always had a little secret crush on the most popular boy in school, Aemond Targaryen, until it becomes impossible to hide it when your brother Cregan makes friends with him and you begin to see him more frequently.

word count: 9.0k

I'm very excited about this!

I hope you really like it, I loved writing this even though it took me a while, but here it is finally:) comments and reblogs are appreciated beautiful people, thank you so much for reading!❤

warning's: language, slight angst, mention of alys, sexual content, spanking.

You always hated it when your brother Cregan brought his friends over to your house when your parents were away, whether it was to watch soccer games, play video games or have some fun at the pool.

You especially were never the type of sister to bring friends over, rather you were the type of sister who preferred to go to friends' houses, as you never mentioned your house as an option.

It just wasn't comfortable for you.

And apparently it wasn't enough for your brother and his friends to see each other almost daily at school that they also had to go to your house.

But you couldn't really do anything, he's the older brother and it wouldn't make any difference to accuse him to your parents since logically there's nothing wrong with him inviting his friends over, besides they work almost all the time and probably wouldn't make a big deal out of it.

So you can only lock yourself in your room with food as a provision, put on your AirPods and wait for them to leave.

And that's what you do, all the while Cregan and his friends prowl around your house. But you reach your breaking point when again Cregan plans a pool party.

"Are you serious?" you inquire, clearly annoyed, "I swear to God, Cregan, this is not going to happen again."

"Oh come on," he gives you a tired look, tossing balloons and animal inflatables into the pool, "Live a little, sis."

"No! You always do this, the same old shit!"

You reproach him as you follow him back into the house, where at the kitchen island is a stack of beers that he begins to store in the fridge completely disinterested to your clear dissatisfaction with it all, as he just doesn't care.

"Last time everyone was coming into the house like it was nothing to leave the whole floor wet, they also left a mess all over the kitchen, pool and garden," you remind him annoyed, "Not to mention we had complaints from the neighbors for all the fuss you made."

"Fucking Hell, will you relax? I'll take care of everything," he says looking at you wearily, only increasing your anger more, "The guys won't be long and I needed everything to be ready."

"That's what you always say but I'm the one who ends up cleaning everything up in and I'm the one who deals with the neighbors because of you fucking fault!"

"Fine!" he exclaims in exasperation, looking at you, "You have my word, I'll take care of everything this time, yeah?"

He looks at you seriously to get back to dealing with the beers, but you don't believe half a word he says.

"Now do you want to help me turn on the pool lights? Also lock the upstairs doors, just in case."

You slowly shake your head in his direction with your arms crossed with your completely serious and annoyed look in his direction.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

You don't wait for him to say anything back nor do you say anything else, you just annoyingly turn around and walk upstairs to your room, preparing to be another long night confined to your four walls.

And this is what happens every time your parents aren't home, having to put up with the liberties Cregan takes to do whatever he pleases around the house.

It's not until one day when you get home from your music lessons at almost seven o'clock that when you open your front door, you hear a lot of voices and laughter.

During the week he usually doesn't invite anyone over, except for a few times he invites the Velaryon brothers, Jace and Luke, over to play video games after school.

The weekend is when it really bothers you that he throws big parties without your parents knowing.

You close the door hard enough to announce your arrival and look into the living room as you head for the stairs, when then, you see them.

And they see you too.

With handsome faces and infectious smiles, besides their unusually silver hair and blue eyes that steal the breath of every girl in the school, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen, the kings of the whole school and also the most players, are in your living room having a few beers and smoking with Cregan.

And Cregan is the first to react.

"Guys, the lady of the house is here," he says, "So let's take this to the pool, shall we? Before she starts screaming."

You watch him with a completely serious look on your face as you see Aegon let out a small chuckle to himself. And without a word, you avert your gaze and continue on your way to the stairs, feigning disinterest.

And just like all the other girls at your school, you can't help but feel equally captivated and attracted to him, Aemond.

However, you don't leave without one last look at him, Aemond Targaryen.

From your single couch and with a cigarette between his long fingers, gives you back an intense and burning look that makes you feel a strange sensation all over your body.

But it's not something you really go around telling everyone, let alone something you want your brother to know now that he's apparently become friends with him.

However, you should have expected him to notice.

And it happens when Cregan again throws a pool party with all his friends and him too, where you don't confront him much about it like previous times and that's what gets his attention.

"Which of the two is the one you like?"

He asks you suddenly with a curious expression and a hint of suspicion in his voice, making you watch him with confusion on your face.

"What are you talking about?"

Your whole body tenses up completely upon hearing your brother's words and you inevitably start to feel terribly nervous, as well as your heart starts to beat too fast, especially because of his suspicious look on you.

"The Targaryens."

He points at you with his gaze, crossing his arms and looking at you again attentively and suspiciously.

"You haven't caused a scene since the two of them have been coming around often and you certainly don't look upset when it used to be a problem with anyone coming around, so you definitely must like one of the two of them, so tell me, which one?"

But you feign innocence and confusion, only to stare at him with your most incredulous face of all and try to evade him.

"You're talking nonsense."

"Oh, am I?"

"Cregan," you observe him seriously, "Have you ever seen me talk to either of the two of them here or at school?"

"Hmm," he says for a moment, thoughtfully.

Still he doesn't look entirely convinced and analyzes you with a completely intent and penetrating gaze, making you feel more nervous but you control him well.

"Still I find it odd that you don't complain about them when they come."

"Then maybe you should think about the fact that I just got tired of telling you the same old thing over and over again," you persuade the subject, "No matter how many times I complain, you'll still do what you want," you tell him seriously, "Besides, you assume that as if I didn't go to the same school as you and didn't know the Targaryens."

"That's exactly why I'm telling you," he says instantly, just as serious, "Do you think I'd like to see you start dating one of them?"

"And why do you care?"

"Why do I care?" he repeats incredulously, "I'm your brother, of course I care."

"As if I care about the girls you date," you tell him just as incredulously.

"Well, at least I have a good reason here," he insists, "I know them, both," he clarifies, "And I don't want you to get hurt, that's why I'm telling you."

"Stop being ridiculous," you tell him with your clearly annoyed tone, starting to head to your room, "And even if I will start dating one of them, it's none of your business."

You sentence to finally leave him behind, leaving a tension in the kitchen, while inside, you finally stop feeling tense and nervous, but Cregan continues with his suspicion.

He almost had you, almost.

And after that conversation, automatically the Targaryens come to your house more often, even more than usual.

Even after school, Cregan invites them over, the two of them and also the Velaryon brothers, where they all together invade your house and you start to witness the personality of him that he is mostly known for.

And it happens one day you're making yourself food and you hear them all talking from the living room.

"Oh, this fucker is texting Savannah," you hear Aegon's excited and amused voice.

"What!? Savannah Williams!?"

"Yeah, since yesterday. I saw her name on his phone when she texted him."

"So what do you say, dude?"

"Not much, actually," you hear his voice.

"But haven't you gone out with her before?"

"Yeah, but you know, it was casual," he explains, "Just now she told me her parents aren't home."

"Oh dude, if I were you, I wouldn't waste the opportunity," your brother says excitedly.

"But what happened to that girl at the party last week? What was her name? Emily, I think."

"Ah Emily… yeah, we had a thing but it was casual too. We only met once after that party."

"She was so hot, but Savannah is hot too."

"Yeah, I know," you hear his nonchalant voice.

"So will you go see her?"

"Yeah, I think so."

You hear them continue to talk, but you tune out and sneak off to your room unnoticed.

It's not the first time you've witnessed these conversations, though. It also happens when they are in the pool and you find yourself back in the kitchen preparing food.

But you can't concentrate because through the glass of the huge windows you see Aemond's bare chest marked. This is a distraction but you try to ignore it as much as you can, but to no avail.

When then the movement and sound of him emerging from the water catches your attention and that of Cregan and Aegon.

"Where are you going?"

"To Cerelle's," he announces, with his phone in hand and his towel over his shoulder.

"Yo! Cerelle Lannister!?" exclaims Cregan in surprise.

"She's so sexy," Aegon says, grining.

"She told me she's home alone and wants me to come over," he explains, as you watch him quickly move his fingers across his phone screen.

"Good luck, dude!"

Even though you know his reputation and how you are aware of his numerous 'adventures' with other girls, you can't help but feel a knot in your stomach and wonder if he might ever be interested in you.

You feel another pang of disappointment when you hear all this and also when you see how he smiles and starts to make his way over here without taking his eyes off his screen.

This immediately makes you react to quickly go to your room so you don't cross paths with him.

Not in that way, since you really don't want to be another girl on his huge list, but be something more genuine and real to him.

But that's totally ridiculous and impossible.

You tell yourself in disbelief, seeing the reality, as it's clear he's not looking for something serious and you don't want to be a 'one night stand' for him if you'll be ignored, forgotten and to some extent humiliated afterwards.

One day, taking advantage of the fact that Cregan is not at home on the weekend and neither are any of his friends, much less your parents, although that is actually no surprise, you decide to make this day for yourself, relax and enjoy your own company.

You decide to stop paying attention to your phone and with your towel in your arms, you leave your room and go down to the pool.

But just as you finish walking down the stairs and are about to turn down the hallway, the doorbell rings.

You stop with a tired expression as that alone has slightly disturbed the zen zone you now find yourself in, but having no choice, you turn around and head to open the door, thinking it must be Mrs. Arryn to ask you for sugar, as usual.

But when you open the door, it is not Mrs. Arryn, but rather you come face to face with Aemond, taking you by surprise and takes your breath away for a moment.

If he is surprised to see you, he doesn't show it, just raises his eyebrows slightly and you notice how he shamelessly runs his eye up and down you, making you embarrassed and nervous as you remembers your outfit, which is a cute black two-piece bikini.

And you quickly try to cover up a bit with the towel in your hands, although in reality this shouldn't embarrass you, since you're at home and you didn't expect to see him, besides this bikini doesn't leave much to the imagination.

Or so you think.

"Hey."

He says to you dispassionately in greeting mode, with a look that you can't really describe but that makes you feel more nervous and you feel your heart beating too hard.

"Hi," you try not to stutter, "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

Aemond watches you with a little mischievous smile barely visible and a spark of amusement in his eye.

"No worries," he tells you in his soft tone.

"Hum…" you place your confused face, "My brother is not here," you let him know, still finding it strange that he doesn't know that.

"Oh," he is silent for a moment, watching you intently, "He's not?"

You shake your head.

"He said he was going to Alysanne's, but he left hours ago," you explain and he hums in understanding, "Did you tell him you were coming today?"

"No, although I should have, I was just passing through and decided to come," he explains to you as well, shoving his hands into the pockets of his silk jacket, "I left my wallet here last night," he tells you later, getting your attention more, "That's why."

"Oh," is all you say, not knowing what else to say for a few seconds, "Well, I'm not sure what time Cregan will be back. But if you want to go up and get it, I'll be at the pool."

You allow him passage, as it's not as if he's a complete stranger and it's not as if he doesn't hang around here often either, it's as if he and Aegon live here too, being the brothers Cregan wished he had.

"Okay, thanks," he tells you as you step aside and make room for him to come in.

"Just close the door when you leave," you tell him, still feeling your heart beat too fast against your chest.

Aemond turns his gaze back to you, nodding in your direction.

"All right."

You give him a small smile and without saying anything else to him, you walk past him, hurrying to get out of his sight and urgently needing, now more than anything else, to get your whole body into the warm water of the pool that will make you stop feeling so tense.

And this is why you don't feel Aemond's piercing, burning gaze on you as you pull away, admiring your bare skin and having a perfect idea of your naked body to the imagination.

And with that alone, he feels himself getting hard at the sight of your smooth, long legs, as well as getting a good look at that ass of yours jiggling as you pull away.

He wets his lips and with a little grin, finally makes his way to Cregan's room, thinking about little things since you're here alone…. now with him.

Meanwhile you, wanting to forget that Aemond Targaryen is in your house right now, submerge yourself completely in the water, where you immediately feel a sensation of freshness and relief.

The water caresses you and envelops your body completely, while you let out a small sigh of pleasure and begin to get used to the new temperature, letting the revitalizing sensation envelop you completely.

Then you emerge with a slight jump, remove your wet hair stuck to your face and begin to swim elegantly, where your arms and legs move at a steady pace and the water takes you in all directions.

You submerge again for a moment and watch the horizon, as your house is on a hill and you can see the lights of neighborhoods below, being a beautiful sight when the sun sets and also when the sun goes down.

However, again your zen zone is disturbed when you hear the movement of the kitchen glass doors sliding, so you turn around in confusion and again feel all your nervousness wash over you.

Aemond makes his way over here, but what strikes you more than anything else is how he has clothes in his hand and also one of the many clean towels Cregan has in his bathroom.

You look at him confused face and he looks back at you with his intent gaze.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

The words get stuck in your throat, watching him still confused, feeling really very nervous and not understanding what he is doing here since he was supposed to go get his wallet and then leave, while he stands at the edge of the pool, watching you.

"Hum…" you say not really knowing what to say, "Are you going to wait for Cregan?"

He averts his gaze from yours, then drops the towel and clothes on a chair with dispassionate movements, to return his gaze to you.

"Yeah, I can do that too."

"And what are you actually here to do?"

You watch him warily and with a slight distrust, but not in a bad way, it's simply nerves.

He looks at you slightly amused.

"To keep you company, of course. Unless you don't want me to," he hastens to clarify.

And here your dilemma begins.

Being alone here with Aemond, in your house, in your pool, was a scenario you longed for and feared at the same time. You longed for because that's how your mind works when you're attracted to him, but feared since anything could happen.

And knowing his reputation, maybe when the moment happens, if the moment happens at all, you don't know if what will come next will be bad or good.

Also, you don't know if Cregan will arrive at any time or even later, so if he arrives in a couple more minutes and sees you alone here with Aemond, you don't even want to imagine the scandal he will make.

You don't know if Aemond has considered that possibility too but if he has, he doesn't seem to mind.

"So?" he looks at you expectantly.

But you again, can't utter words.

You let out a long breath and swallow hard before responding, trying to hide your excitement and nervousness.

You don't want to look bitter by telling him no, that it will be best for him to leave, but you also can't find another way to politely decline.

And on the other hand… there is that inevitable emotion in your being that begs you to invite him into the pool with you.

"Hum… yeah, sure, if you want," you say acting nonchalant, averting your gaze from him and distracting yourself with the water.

Aemond can't help but put on his smirk again and right in front of you, wanting to give you a show, he takes off his shirt, to which you watch him helplessly out of the corner of your eye and make sure he doesn't catch you admiring the view.

He's wearing that usual silver chain around his neck that makes it stand out against his skin, making him look only even sexier when he doesn't have a shirt on and God, you don't know if you can survive this, thinking it's a bad idea.

Then you watch as he pulls on a pair of Cregan shorts, secures his hair in a low bun and finally steps into the water.

In a nonchalant way you make yourself more towards the shore, unobviously avoiding getting too close to him as he swims towards the center of the pool, making it more impossible for you not to watch him as it's getting dark and the last orange rays of the sun beautifully illuminate his skin that glows slightly from the water and his face.

And then feel his intense gaze on you, while you try to distract yourself with your eyes, trying to focus only on you.

But it is genuinely impossible.

However, he doesn't make any effort to talk and neither do you, which you are grateful for, to continue to feel the calmness and relaxation throughout your body, although it's a little hard for you being here alone with him.

And it's a bit awkward since neither of you are talking, but is there anything to talk about?

He's one of your brother's best friends and you're just the sister, the two of you don't really know each other, so it makes sense. But still you feel the slight tension between the two of you and you don't even know why.

You wonder if he feels the same way too when suddenly his low, amused voice almost makes you startle in your place.

"I've always wondered why you're so quiet when Aegon and I come over."

You look at him with a slightly surprised expression, not expecting that, feeling again how your heart is beating too fast from nerves, for what are you supposed to tell him?

You should tell him that you have a crush on him and that your brother warned you about him?

"I know it's your house and I come with your brother but… you look like you hate me or something."

Oh God.

You think, only making you feel more nervous, especially since it's really impossible not to see a part of his torso and pectorals that looks almost glowing from the water and sunlight, not expecting to hear those words either.

And you force yourself not to turn your back on him anymore to watch him while they talk, adopting a relaxed and confident attitude, just like him, when actually inside you are shaking with nerves.

"You just said yourself, you come with my brother, not me," you say softly.

And while he watches you and listens attentively, he also struggles just like you not to see too much of your breasts confined in that black bikini of yours that makes you look too sexy, especially the way the wet fabric looks and your skin on your chest and collarbone too.

"And I don't hate you," you clarify, slightly amused and absurd, "We just don't talk, that's all."

"Because you haven't given me the chance."

You look at him expectantly.

"I don't remember a single time you ever tried to talk to me."

"That's exactly why," he tells you softly, "Because you run away before I can try."

Now it is you who watches him completely attentively, while you feel your heart beating like crazy and you look away from him for a moment, not knowing what to say or do since he is right, feeling really very nervous, especially when he starts to swim slowly towards you, with a determined look.

And you for insisting, you start to back away, watching his slow and calculated movements with some trepidation, having an idea of what he intends to do and you know it's not a good idea at all.

"See? You're already running away," he points out to you with his amused and satisfied look.

And you don't miss his determined look, how his head is slightly tilted as he continues to slowly advance towards you, with the corners of his lips twisted upwards in a small smile and his blue eye glowing, while his prosthetic eye remains the same as ever.

And you still don't want to agree with him.

"That's not true, I'm not doing anything," you defend yourself in a weak and pathetic attempt.

"Oh no?" he raises his eyebrows expectantly at you.

And you start to lose it all when he's already in front of you, cornering you.

"Aemond," you call him in a sigh in warning mode, fully alert, leaving his name in the air as you become very nervous of his intense, dark gaze on you.

"What's wrong? Are you afraid of me?"

You watch him with a slight expression of surprise and even more nervousness, as you press your lips together and try to say the right words.

"No," you reply softly, "But I know you're no good either," you confess.

And he frowns, watching you interestedly.

"What do you mean?" you are silent for a moment, as you give him a sad look, serious and obvious at the same time.

"We both know what," you tell him softly, without much detail.

And at this, Aemond can't help but feel annoyed, immediately noticing how you clench your jaw and look away from yours for a moment, serious and thoughtful.

You know he shouldn't have to be upset with you for implying a truth you both know, especially him, but still you can't help but hold your breath, hoping that maybe you haven't gone too far.

All the while thinking that maybe you've ruined the first chance you've had to talk to him by telling him that he's no good by reputation, since that's not your concern, but at least you make it clear that that's not what you're looking for now.

"And you don't even want to try?" he asks you quietly, turning his gaze back to you, attentive and completely willing.

You stare at him, completely speechless, as you feel your whole body tense and your eyes are slightly wide open, your lips parted, not having the slightest idea what to say at the same time as a million questions invade your mind.

And just at that moment, Cregan's words come back to your mind.

"I know them, both. And I don't want you to get hurt, that's why I'm telling you."

So you know.

Aemond is not like you and the only thing he wants is to fill his list, no matter with whom, not even if it's the sister of one of his best friends, who are supposed to be 'forbidden', somehow.

And that's why you decide to answer him truthfully, no longer caring if you hurt his feelings, even though you doubt it very much.

Not wanting this to go any further, since you knew all along that letting him stay was a bad idea, you move as fast as your body in the water will let you, walking away, wanting to keep your distance again.

"And be just another girl on your list that you never speak to again and suddenly pretend she doesn't exist anymore? No thanks."

But just as you pass by him, he's faster and you feel his big hand grab your arm and twist you in a demanding motion back towards him, slamming his chest against yours, locking you in his arms, making you gasp in surprise.

His face is above yours, completely close, causing you nerves and you try to free yourself from him, but he doesn't let you, even having that determined, attentive and dark look.

"Do you ever stop running away?" he asks you in a low, husky tone.

"What do you think you're doing?" you hiss nervously.

"You're not even letting me explain."

"There's nothing to explain."

"Oh no?" he asks, "Did I say I only wanted you for one night?"

"That's what you do, Aemond, with every girl," you say absurdly, "Am I suddenly going to be the exception? How am I supposed to believe that?"

However, any further protest gets stuck in your throat as Aemond grabs one hand from your cheek and the other places it on your bare waist, pulling you closer against him in a possessive grip.

And you know you're losing the battle when he brings his face closer to yours, where your noses brush lightly and your breathing becomes more rapid, having no idea what's going on.

But Aemond does.

And as he strokes your soft, wet cheek with his thumb, watching you intently and with understanding, his next words make you reconsider the situation completely.

"You won't be just another girl on the list," he murmurs softly to you, "I won't hurt you. I promise."

You shudder completely at his words, but also at his touch and closeness, being impossible not to look between his violet eye or his full lips, which Aemond notices, also peering between your eyes and lips hungrily.

And you don't even think or discuss it anymore when he leans his face towards you and kisses you with need, without even giving you time to react.

You moan into his mouth in surprise and he pulls you roughly to him, lowering his hands to your body where he makes you wrap your legs around his torso, then makes room between your lips with his tongue, making you gasp.

You immediately bring your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss further, a passionate kiss, where you barely give each other time to breathe properly before desperately bringing your lips together again.

A slight tingle of desire is felt between your legs as you move your body and legs to hold his torso tighter, where you perfectly feel the hardness of his cock under your ass.

You moan as you feel one of his hands grip your thigh and the other caress the skin of one of your ass cheeks, making you gasp against his mouth, closing your eyes in delight as he pulls his lips away from yours and begins to leave soft kisses on your neck.

"I fucking knew it," he murmurs in delight too in his husky voice, running his tongue over your sensitive skin, "I knew you wanted me too."

You squint completely as the hand on your ass reaches lower and nonchalantly rubs his palm over your covered, moist center.

"Aemond," you moan.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, smiling in the middle of your lips as he kisses you again.

But it's there in that moment with his hand caressing you right at your nerve center that your brain for an instant seems to react, realizing what's really going on and you stop kissing him abruptly, watching him in surprise and slight fear as he watches you slightly confused.

"W-we can't," you say in a trembling voice, "We can't do this, t-this is wrong. Cregan—

"We can't do it or we can't do it here?" he inquires expectantly.

You let out a sigh.

"Both," you say with a certain embarrassed tone, "But I'm more worried about Cregan. If he sees us, he'll go crazy."

"Come on, Y/N, you're not a little girl anymore."

"I know but he warned me about you and your brother," you tell him hopelessly, "And you're one of his best friends."

Aemond is silent for a moment, watching you and nothing else, where he is aware and so are you of the hardness in his shorts, while in his thoughts he bets that you too must be spilling your juices between your legs.

Honestly he understands your concern, but he also understands that Cregan is really no one to tell you who you can and can't date, as the decision is totally up to you.

He doesn't want to have problems with him either as he also considers him one of his best friends but you... you simply drove him crazy with seeing you in this black bikini and now he is even more so for you, wanting, needing more of you, no matter the consequences.

"Then we have to be careful and not to say anything to him," he tells you softly, in solution, "Only if you want to," he clarifies, "But if you want to stop now, just tell me and I will, before we take this any further."

But you don't really have to make a decision when you are already here, in his arms, feeling how much he wants you and you also recognizing how much you want to keep touching and kissing him, no matter what.

But he still gives you that option, to make you see that he really doesn't want to hurt you and that he respects your decisions, since you are the one in control of all this and you are the one who puts the stop, at any time.

And when Aemond sees how you are watching him intently, with indecision in your gaze, holding back your true desires, thinking fast, he cocks his head to one side and watches you curiously.

"Or do you really want me as much as I want you, princess?"

Something snaps inside you and not just from hearing that nickname for you, but from having him so fucking close and his lips being a complete invitation to you and in fact all of him.

Soon enough, he is sitting on the edge of the pool and you find yourself sitting on top of him, your arms around his neck as you press yourself against the hardness of his shorts.

So you think no more and again crash your lips against his, resuming what you were doing before, to which Aemond responds with the same rudeness and fervor.

And then without stopping kissing you, he carries you to the edge of the pool along with him.

You move your hips in circles on top of him, rubbing your needy center against his hard cock, while he caresses your thighs, your ass and all the skin he blindly finds without stopping kissing you, feeling his breathing just as ragged as yours.

Then he brings his hands up and starts sliding the strings of your bikini over your shoulders, sending fiery electricity throughout your body.

"What was it you said? That we couldn't do this here?" he murmurs hoarsely against your skin, leaving wet kisses on your collarbone and neck.

You moan, as your bikini top piece is loosened completely by Aemond's fingers and you involuntarily wiggle your hips more intensely.

"You just can't resist, can you?" he asks you amused amidst all the sensuality.

"Shut up," you whine pathetically into his lips.

This time he kisses you again, softly and tenderly, deep, as he with his hand pulls away the piece of your bikini top that covers your breasts, freeing them, causing him to groan at the sight in front of him.

"Fuck," he murmurs, "Such a pretty tits, princess."

He says to you with his eye fully dilated and watching you hungrily, then you moan as he brings his mouth to your hard, wet nipple and begins to caress it with his tongue and lips, sucking on it, while he kneads the other one with his hand.

"Oh yes," you moan, pulling your breasts closer to his face.

You continue to move your hips on top of him, desperate and needy to feel the friction his cock gives you against your swollen clit.

When you least expect it, you begin to approach your limit, as your whole body tenses and his caressing hands only add to the pleasure.

"Mhm," he moans against your hard nipple, then gives the same attention to the other, still kneading them as he pleases.

"Fuck, Aemond, please don't stop," you say under your breath.

But that's exactly what he does, he releases your nipple with a wet sound and captures your lips in a sensual kiss, making you moan and groan at the same time from the attention on your breasts.

You arch your neck and moan, clinging to him completely, needing more of him, driving you completely insane.

And you sigh as he again distributes kisses all over your neck and his teeth grind against your sensitive skin.

You feel the moist heat of his mouth and hands all over your body, as if he wants to mark you with each firm, possessive touch.

"Remember we have to be careful, baby," he suddenly murmurs hoarsely in your ear, feeling his warm breath, "And we don't want your brother to see his innocent little sister getting the fuck of her life if he comes back, do we?"

Despite all the desire you're feeling and you're dripping completely for him, his words reach your brain and scare you a little, so you force yourself to be patient and you both go up to your room.

And soon enough you find yourself lying on your bed, with Aemond on top of you, spreading your legs for him, watching with his dilated eye and gently biting his bottom lip your wet pussy ready for him.

"Seven Hells," he growls, running his fingers all over your entrance, "Look at you, you're dripping, princess."

His cock pulses in pain for release, watching you in complete delight as you moan with every movement of his fingers that collects your juices, spreading them all over your pussy, making you wiggle your hips against his hand.

"Aemond, please," you cry, needing to feel it inside you, now.

"What is it, baby? Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to fuck this pretty pussy hard?"

He teases you, running his fingertips over your hole, making you moan, sigh and groan.

"Please, just fuck me, fuck me with your cock," you implore him.

"Yesah? Is that what you want?"

"Yes, please!"

"Only because you asked nicely."

He joins in, leaving you needy and trembling on your bed, spread wide open for him, watching as he removes his wet shorts and boxers, completely freeing his entire erect, heavy, hot, hard cock, just for you.

Your mouth waters at the sight and he proudly holds it in his hand, turning to make his way back to you, thrilling and scaring you at the same time as you've never had a cock like Aemond's inside you before.

"Do you take control pills? I don't have a condom."

"Yes, I take them, don't worry," you assure him instantly and he grins.

"Eager, huh?"

"Aemond," you groan and moan at the same time.

"Someone's acting like a little brat," he croons, starting to rub the tip of his cock against your pussy, making you shudder and moan, needing him inside you, "Behave yourself, princess. I'll give you exactly what you want."

"Stop teasing," you whine between whimpers.

When suddenly Aemond enters you in a single hard, firm movement that makes you release all the air in your lungs, moaning loudly at the rough intuition as he pulls it all out of you again.

"What did I say? Stop being a little brat and behave yourself," he warns you.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I promise."

You plead desperately and moan as he slams the tip against your pussy, to again enter you fully in a more careful and slower way, letting you feel all of him, making you moan.

"Oh fuck, Aemond," you moan his name, drunk with pleasure, closing your eyes tight.

"Yeah, just like that, squeezing me so fucking good, baby," he murmurs hoarsely in delight.

He leans fully into you, kissing your hot, sweaty skin, just like him, then slides all the way down to your bottom, where you feel every inch of his long, hard cock, moaning into his mouth, as your whole body trembles.

He stops once he's all the way inside you, letting you get used to his size, while you feel him pulsing inside you and all his heat flooding through you.

When he rolls his hips in a grunt and his tip touches exactly your swollen clit in need of release.

His hands run along your waist and thighs as he lifts both of your legs and places them around his torso, feeling him sink more easily inside you.

"You're so hot, baby. So fucking perfect," he growls against your lips, closing his eye and rests his forehead with yours as he begins his swaying hips back and forth.

"You're so deep," you moan, clinging to his back, lightly digging your nails into his pale skin.

This makes Aemond grunt and feel more desperation as he begins to penetrate you with more rhythm, all the way in, with hard movements that hit exactly that spot inside you that makes you squirm beneath him.

"Yes Aemond, right there," you moan.

"Yeah? Do you like it, baby?"

"Yes, fuck, yes."

You both gasp into each other's mouths, where then his dark gaze returns to your features and he watches you intently, never ceasing to slam his hips hard and deep against you.

"You're mine now, you know that, don't you?" he asks you in a low, husky tone.

His words only make you clench tighter around him and you feel yourself slowly reaching your limit, each onslaught sending delicious waves all over your core that soothes your needy pussy.

"Say it," he demands forcefully, only this time to plunge your cock back into your wet pussy with a hard onslaught that knocks the air out of you, "Say you're mine."

"Yes," you gasp, "Yes, Aemond. I am yours," you manage to say it, "I am completely yours."

He smiles complacently and contentedly, never ceasing to move for a moment.

"Yes, you are," he croons, "You. Are. Mine," he rams you hard to the hilt on every accentuation, not giving you time to anticipate it, making you moan loudly in pleasure and pain, "And I don't fucking share."

He brings his lips back to your skin, marking and sucking on your breasts and neck even with his heavy cock inside you, fucking you hard and grunting against your ear telling you how tight you are.

He takes you completely over the edge, where your mind goes blank with each thrust, filling you completely, swelling inside you, as both you and he begin to gasp for breath, but he doesn't slow down or change his pace, continuing to penetrate you and press you against your bed.

Until finally everything inside you explodes, you see stars behind your eyes and Aemond's warm semen fills everything inside you, coming with an almost painful grunt in your ear and with a last strong thrust that leaves you drunk with pleasure and makes you forget everything for a moment.

Things didn't end with Aemond there, not at all.

He was honest with you when he told you that he wouldn't hurt you or make you just another girl on his list, just as he was honest in telling you that you are now his and he doesn't share.

After that day in your room, the little secret affair began.

When Aemond comes to your house along with Aegon, you both behave towards each other as you were before, completely indifferent.

However, you and especially he are not entirely patient, so once you reach your limit, he secretly intercepts you in one of the empty classrooms or labs and you take advantage of that little moment as much as possible.

You don't even speak to each other and avoid as much as possible to look each other, where no one suspects the two of you. And at school it's the same, although especially there you have to be more careful.

Even in the library, you both find a secluded corner between the shelves of books and can't keep your hands off each other, where Aemond makes you come on his fingers and sometimes you also dare to suck his cock, hoping not to be discovered.

As far as you know, he has not been seen with other and his usual girls, since almost all the time the two of you are texting each other and sometimes, when Cregan is not at home, you let him know and he comes as fast as he can, not missing the opportunity.

Already being in the four walls of your room, the two of you can do whatever you want without fear of being discovered, where Aemond fucks you against your mattress in all positions.

And sometimes, when things have not been in favor of either of you, he climbs through your window at midnight and unable to hold back any longer, he fucks you silently, silencing your moans with his mouth, hands or cock, since Cregan's room is at the end of the hallway.

And this lasts for a while, all in secret, where you look for small moments to share intimate moments, hidden caresses and soft whispers in your ear that only you and he can hear.

But of course, the good things can't last forever.

Jason Lannister, a friend of Cregan's, throws a Halloween party at his house and practically the entire school has been invited. So you see this as an opportunity to be able to be with Aemond for a few moments of the party.

Cregan dresses up as a wizard and you choose to dress up as a sexy sailor girl with a skirt that exposes your legs, a simple white blouse, you put on your tie and also your hat, and then you and Cregan head off to the party.

You immediately look for Aemond, but he is nowhere to be seen, even though you meet Aegon and his younger brother, Daeron.

However, not to be obvious, you start pouring yourself drinks and talking to your friends, starting to get into the same mood as everyone else because of the music with twinkling lights and also because of the whole decorated house.

You see Aegon talking to Cassandra Baratheon, dresses up as a vampire and she as an angel, then you see Alysanne talking to your brother, dresses up as a bunny, and then you keep looking around the party, not understanding where Aemond is.

You are about to send him a message, when you look absentmindedly towards the kitchen and then, there he finally is, only he is not alone.

Dresses up as a pirate, Aemond is chatting with his ex-girlfriend, the gorgeous Alys Rivers, dresses up as a witch.

You had been enjoying the party, but your mood inevitably changes and also without being able to help it, you feel a twinge of jealousy all over your insides, watching them intently.

They both talk, she occasionally laughs and places her hand on his chest, playfully smacking it, both of them too close, while you see Aemond's grin on his lips at all times, making the knot of jealousy in your stomach tighter.

And, you mean, you can't even blame him, she's Alys Rivers.

When then at that moment your gaze crosses his casually, who slowly wipes away his smile, but you quickly avert your gaze from him as you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to act nonchalant.

But too late, he's already noticed your annoyed look.

However, you quickly make room with Aegon, Cassandra and Daeron, simply to dissemble in front of them and him as well. Then Cregan and Alysanne join in and of course so does he, but you don't even notice him and continue drinking.

You notice how he wants to approach you slyly on a few occasions, but you don't let him, you continue to laugh with Daeron, ignoring him altogether, not wanting to talk or be with him anymore.

Until the hour starts to get late and taking advantage of the fact that one of your friends is already leaving, you ask her to drop you off at your house and she accepts. You just tell Cregan, who nods and you leave the party with your friend.

And once you get home, you take off your costume, take a shower and get ready to sleep, although you should have expected Aemond to start calling you, but you send it to voicemail.

He calls you a couple of times more where you don't answer and you also get severe messages from him that you don't read, to finally leave your phone on mute and try to sleep.

But you barely last a few minutes with your eyes closed, suddenly you hear some sounds at your window.

You sit up confused in your bed, looking at your window, instantly knowing what it is or rather who it is, since only one person has the habit of doing this and you let out a long resigned breath.

Reluctantly you open your curtains and the window, where the figure of Aemond stands down there, watching you confused and attentive.

"What are you doing?" you reproach him sleepily.

"You're not answering my calls or texts," he tells you with some anger in his tone of voice, "And you ignored me the whole party."

You press your lips together in anger as well.

"It semeed to me like you were too busy," you can't help but say with some bitterness.

He lets out a sigh, lowering his gaze for a moment.

"It's not what you thin—

"No matter. Go home. I want to sleep," you cut him off, intending to turn away from your window.

"I swear to God Y/N, I'm not leaving until you listen to me," he warns you.

"It's after midnight!" you reproach him.

"Open the door," he demands.

"No," you say firmly.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

"I don't care."

"Y/N," he warns you again.

"Stay there all night, I'm not opening for you."

You sentence and finally move away from the window, close it and close your curtains as well.

Feeling no remorse, you settle back into your bed, ready to sleep again, but only a few seconds pass when you hear noise again.

And that's when you realize you should have locked your windows.

You startle and turn your head to watch how Aemond is entering through your windows with the same agility as always, with a serious and threatening look, jumping into your room and you look at him angrily.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"You don't know what you just got yourself into," he says as he makes his way towards you.

"Fuck you," you spit back at him.

"Oh yeah, I just pretend to do that, princess."

"Alys wasn't available at this time that you decided to come and play with me?"

He lets out a long breath, rolling his eye.

"You're getting it all wrong—

"Oh I am?" you inquire, "She's your fucking ex, Aemond. I'm not stupid."

"In fact yes, you are being stupid right now, " he says, coming towards you.

And just before you can escape, he catches you, instantly grabbing you by both wrists, cornering you between him and your bed, climbing on top of you with a mischievous, menacing grin and his pupil fully dilated.

"Let go of me," you gasp, trying to shake him off.

"Listen to me—

"I mean it, get off me and get the fuck out of my house!"

He cocks his head.

"Where did this bratty attitude come from, hm?"

"Aemond," you plead, "Stop it."

"Oh baby," he croons, bringing his lips to your ear, "Can't you see? Can't you see how fucking crazy I am about you?" he murmurs hoarsely.

You try to fight your own urges, telling yourself that you shouldn't let yourself get carried away by him, that he can talk and fuck whoever he wants, while you are only exclusively for him and these are just empty words to convince you.

"Alys and I ended on good terms, we're just friends, it's nothing to worry about," he says earnestly in your ear, as your breath is cut short when you feel his knee make its way between your legs.

"Aemond," you whine.

"But if you want me to stop talking to her, fine, I will," he murmurs in understanding, only to feel his knee press lightly into your pussy, making you moan.

"Oh, A-aemond-" you try to say, feeling so good.

"Yeah, baby? What's wrong? Does it feel good?"

You can't formulate words, especially when he puts more pressure and makes you gasp more, just that making you feel good, only to then feel him drop almost his weight against you and now positioning himself between your legs, he starts rubbing his hard cock inside his pants against you, making you shudder.

Now he gasps along with you, as he lets go of your wrists and slides one of his hands under your shirt, kneading one of your breasts with ease as you sleep without a bra.

You arch your back against him and bite your bottom lip as he begins to leave soft kisses down your neck, never letting go of your touch and never stopping rubbing against you.

"Please, Aemond, please," you beg him, needing him.

He marks the skin of your neck, sucking and sucking, then brings his lips back to your ear.

You bring one of your hands to his face and turn him towards you, kissing him with need and depth where he responds in kind, where you are completely delighted by his caresses and words.

"Now do you get it, princess?" he says hoarsely, "You're the only one who can make me play this fucking game of hide and seek with your brother and everyone else."

He says honestly, making you moan as he puts more pressure on his hips.

"But you know what? I've had enough and I don't fucking care if Cregan bothers or not. I don't give a shit."

And that night Aemond fucks you from behind, hard and fast, while you hold the sheets tightly under you and avoid shushing your sobs and moans too loudly against the pillow, as every time you do, Aemond gives you a hard spank with his hand on one of your ass cheeks as a way of punishment for your bratty attitude earlier.

And he doesn't give you a chance to silence your moans as he gathers all your hair into a fist and makes your back arch, while his other hand takes it to hold your throat firmly and rests his cheek against yours to fuck you with more accessibility, fast and deep, bringing you to the peak several times.

And when it's all over, you melt into the arms of your perfect, official boyfriend.

thank you so much for reading!❤

[gisellecnz]

GOJO SATORU

summary. You left Satoru and the kids at home to do some grocery shopping, which means that Satoru will have to take care of two babies at the same time.

contents. Fluff, reader is fem, gojo having troubles at the end

authors note. I requested something similar to this from another author, so if they did my request and posted it please don't get the wrong idea! I also wanted to write about it too now 😭

You and Satoru have Two kids, the first one is Satoshi, he's the oldest. He just turned two 5 months ago. Then next was Satoko, she's younger than Satoshi. You gave birth to her around 4 months ago.

You found it cute how your kids got Satoru's genes the most, they have his white snowy hair and those blue ocean eyes that you adore a lot.

︵͜⏜͜︵ ︵͜⏜͜︵  ︵ ︵͜⏜͜︵  

Once, you had to go grocery shopping alone, leaving Satoru and the kids at home.

Satoru wanted to come with you, but you refused and told him to stay at home to take care of the kids. You assured him that it would be fine and no curses would start attacking you, plus you also reminded him that he expanded his infinity to you.

(Gojo fully knows that you're a strong sorcerer, he just suddenly became much more of a worry wart after you gave birth to his baby girl months ago.)

right now you're about to leave the house, but Gojo is looking at you with those big puppy eyes, begging you to bring him grocery shopping with the kids as well.

Well... There were plenty of reasons why you couldn't bring Gojo with you, the first one was that you're still kind of a first-time mom, and you don't know how to handle two babies at the same time in public. And of course, you and Satoru can't leave the kids alone at home, you guys don't trust any babysitter to look out for them since they could be bad guys or curses in disguise.

"Please y/n? I wanna come with you!

"Satoru you're being a baby! You do understand why you can't come right? You have to take care of the kids, it's just some grocery shopping! I swear I'll be alright! Now let me go! "

BANG! the door shuts close loudly.

Satoru pouted and looked down at his baby, "Your mama really is a meanie..no? "he cooed and looked down at his precious daughter who was sleeping in his arms, booping her nose. He's surprised that she didn't wake up from the commotion earlier.

"Ah, I'll just get your brother, 'kay? Don't pull any pranks on daddy when he's back. "- acting as if his 4-month-old daughter could stand up on her legs and start setting up pranks.

He kisses her forehead and places her on a nearby crib beside the sofa and heads towards Satoshi and Satoko's shared nursery room.

As he entered the room, it turned out Satoshi was already wide awake, bouncing and giggling in his crib at the sight of his father.

"Hey buddy, did you miss me that much? Is that why you're excited to see me?" A warm smile spread across Satoru's face as he scooped his son up.

"Pa-pa! Pa-pa!"

Satoru grinned, heart warmed by Satoshi calling him "papa."

"No wonder you're so cute; you look so much like me." And, well, you'd agree. Everyone else does too. Satoshi and Satoru could practically be twins.

Satoru picked up Satoshi from the crib, he checked his diaper for poop. "Oh no, you need a shower, bud." He chuckled, Satoru carried Satoshi to the bathroom, and Satoko too just in case.

After a good 20 minutes of bathing Satoshi, they returned to the nursery. Satoshi, now fresh and clean, rested on Satoru's left arm, while Satoko peacefully slept in her bassinet.

Everything was peaceful, not until a cat from outside accidentally knocked over a metal item which made a loud noise, good thing Satoshi didn't get scared by it, meanwhile, Satoko over here woke up from the noise.

Satoru started panicking when he saw that Satoko's eyes are starting to well up in tears.

"Oh my god- Satoko please don't cry, please don't cry.. "

He started to panic even more when he heard her whimpers, he tried to calm Satoko down by caressing her chubby cheek with his right hand.

"Nonono, not right now please Satoko... "

then boom, Satoko is now crying.

"Oh my goodness." He palmed his face and sighed from failing to prevent his daughter from crying.

"Alright, just a second Satoshi." He couldn't grab Satoko from the bassinet with one arm only, since he was carrying Satoshi in his left arm, So he had to put Satoshi down first. But as he was about to put Toshi down, his son gripped his shirt tightly,

"P-papa..... No..."

Then Satoshi started crying, he didn't want Satoru to put him down. The children's wailing filled the room, Gojo felt like he wanted to cry too.

"Aiyaaa..... Y/n...please save me.. "

Satoru didn't know what to do in order to stop the children from crying at the same time.

end: you arrived home 20 seconds later, you went to the nursery room to check what was the commotion about. When you saw Satoru very exhausted you couldn't help but burst out laughing. But don't worry, you told him that he did a great job and gave him plenty of kissed as his rewards after.

☞ note. this was inspired by that one kbs world tv episode, idk how to make my writings longer 😭 this was so annoying cuz I worked so many times on this fix then when I saved it to my drafts it had an error THEN HALF OF IT DISAPPEARED SO I HAD TO REDO EVERYTHING 😭😭😭

[theminecraftbee]

Afterwards, they do a race. They don’t talk about it, but it’s there, between them still. Something settled between them. Cleo doesn’t know how to say it; they never know how to say things like this. Still, they need to, so they wait until Ren’s race is over and then hike through the jungle to go sit on top of Etho’s base and wait for him to show up as well.

He doesn’t. He’d gone to their base. Instead of just showing up for each other, they have to somewhat awkwardly coordinate over text which base to meet at. It forces everything to feel more real.

When they finally meet up, it’s in the shopping district, leaning against the button. A dangerous game in theory, but Cleo’s not fully convinced it can explode at this point, so.

Cleo breathes. They’re both quiet for a moment.

"Okay, so like, are we doing this?" Cleo says.

"I don’t really know, uh, what this is," Etho says, "but I… care about you. I think. So I think we’re doing that."

Cleo nods once. "You know I don’t fall in love, right? I’m not going to fall in love with you, I don’t do that. Might say something about loving you, but it’s not the same thing. Different sense of the word. It’s different, loving people and falling in love, got it? And I won’t do that second thing. I’m never going to do that second thing. I don’t--"

"Okay. I know," Etho says.

"Do you?" Cleo asks.

"I mean, not entirely, but I’m frankly surprised we’re having this conversation in the first place. I never expected you to be in love with me."

"But I’m not," Cleo says. "I’m attracted to you, and I love you as like, a companion and friend or whatever, but I’m not in love with you. I’m. Ugh. I wish I knew the right words. I just--I also don’t let go of things so if we’re doing this you’re going to have to get used to that real fast. Me not being in love with you but me not letting you go, both of those things."

"You're attracted to me? Aw, Cleo," Etho says.

"Don't be an ass," Cleo says.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just, geez, this is--a heavy conversation, huh?"

Cleo sighs. "We'll work on the deflection."

Etho rubs the back of his head and looks away. "Uh, in that case. If I'm maybe a little in love with you--"

"I can't--I can't reciprocate that, Etho," Cleo says, and their voice cracks as they do.

"I know," Etho says. "I just want to make sure it's okay, then."

"You can't help that, can you? Just like I can't help that I still sort of want to kill anyone who hurts you."

Etho seems to think about it for a while. Cleo resists the urge to fidget. She's a zombie. She shouldn't have the urge to fidget; she should be too dead for that. Besides, it's hardly like it's a secret she doesn't fall in love, exactly. It's just... it's only relevant sometimes. Feeling like, as she watches Etho and Bdubs dance around each other, she's on the outside looking in. She'd kill to hold their hands, to protect them, hell, even to kiss them--but that's different. She just can't summon the same emotion of... she doesn't know.

Martyn had almost gotten it, for all he didn't get anything else, in the end. Scott was never going to fall in love with her in the first place, for obvious reasons. Whatever attraction she and Pearl have going on, it's definitely not love.

But this...

"Okay," Etho says.

"That's it?" Cleo says.

"I mean, does it need to be anything else?" Etho says. "It's not like we can just... not do this. I think it's too late for that. Whatever 'this' is. I'm in love, and you aren't, but we'd both be pretty upset to lose this, right? So I'll... figure it out."

Cleo swallows. They feel small. "Will you? Do you understand?"

Etho shrugs. "I understand that it's you, and it's you that this happened with, not anyone else."

"Okay," Cleo says. "Okay."

"Is it okay if I kiss you? Just to try it, I mean. Not like, as a--this is a bad time, actually, I don't want to try to make any kissing we do romantic, I mean, you just told me this won't be romantic, I--"

"Yeah, sure, you can kiss me," Cleo says, and he leans in to kiss them. It's nice. A little soft for what they'd want, really, but nice. He leans back. He looks them in the eyes.

"I get it a little more now."

Cleo is baffled. "How? Kissing is just like, a thing we did? How does that have anything to do with any of the rest of this."

Etho laughs. "I definitely get it a little more now. What do you want to tell the others? I know they're definitely gossiping."

"Ugh. Can we just, like, not?" Cleo says. "I don't want to have to explain it."

"I'll just be confusing then, got it," Etho says, and Cleo can't help but laugh themselves.

"This is why you're my favorite," Cleo says, and they think maybe this will work out okay, after all.

[ineffable-suffering]

The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie

Otherwise known as (*takes a deep breath*): A completely inflated close-up look at various dialogues and events of Season 2 that prove that the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Meeting Cotillion Ball was supposed to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley

Look, the point's been made before but that's never kept me from making it myself again, still. In fact, even I made it before, at the end of one of my other metas. But I feel like it's absolutely worthy enough to get its own soppy, way-too-long post. And I do love it so very much to write ridiculously long essays on something that could easily be condensed into a short paragraph.

So, here we go! Snuggle up, get cozy, settle in and, most importantly:

(Word count: 3.177 | Reading time: ~13 minutes)

As I already said above, I laid out a similar case in my meta about why Aziraphale is somewhat of an unreliable narrator. I'll try and recycle it here briefly, so I can further make my point.

When Aziraphale arrives back in London from his Edinburgh journey, he seems oddly happy and giddy for the fact that he just had a rather odd and threatening encounter with Shax. I explain in my other meta that this is because he just spent the last hours of his drive reminiscing on the thrilling and romantic magic show adventure of 1941 and also the fact that he just found out that Crowley has been replaced by Shax and no longer works for Hell.

Ergo: We have a hopelessly lovesick Principality at our hands, who's practically swooning over his serpent who saved him, his books and his magic show all those years ago.

Ergo:

✨This✨

Realistically, Aziraphale should probably be a tad worried about the eery encounter with Shax, in which she definitely had the upper hand on him. But well, if you spend many-a hours driving across the serene countryside (Edinburgh is about an 8-hour drive from London), pondering on one of the craziest, sticky-sweet romantic adventures of your not-life life, well ... things tend to turn a little rosy around the edges. Head in the clouds and all that. Light shades of grey!

Alright, onwards: Once the angel, filled to the very brim with fond memories and butterflies, gets out of the Bentley, he's kindly met with a face full of verdant plants and a very in-character-grumpy Crowley.

Fhwack! Way to burst the rosy bubble.

Seriously, the absolute lightning speed with which Crowley storms out to vacate the bookshop the very second Aziraphale arrives makes me giggle every time.

Let's make a first small (who am I kidding) diversion into analysing the following conversation in unnecessary detail ...

... simply because I enjoy quoting dialogue as an accurate reference in my metas. I'll also highlight certain passages I want to comment on in individual colours so I can back up my thoughts with them below. Alright, their little chinwag goes as follows:

Crowley: "They you are! I was worried something might have happened to you." Aziraphale: "No, nothing happened to me. Very uneventful journey indeed. No strange things at all." Crowley: "Good. That's what we wanna hear." Aziraphale: "Um .. everything okay with- ah.." *nods to the bookshop* Crowley: "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must have been asleep. I heard snoring coming from his bedroom–" Crowley, to the Bentley: "Did you miss me? I bet you did." Aziraphale: "... I'm sure it did." Crowley: "So, any more clues from the mystery of the missing archangel?" Aziraphale: "Not exactly. Or, if there are, I haven't yet cracked the case. But I'm certainly hot on the trail of something." Crowley: "I'm sure you are. Oh, by the way, the whole sudden rain and awning thing was a complete washout." Aziraphale: "Sorry?" Crowley: "You know, project making Nina fall in love with Maggie. I failed, it's your go." Aziraphale: "I see. Well then, Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Monthly Meeting, here we come!" Crowley: "You're really hosting the meeting?" Aziraphale: "Absolutely! And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

At first glance, this has little to do with the plot of this meta but actually, it folds into my point very nicely! However, it's not time for that yet, so we'll just state the facts as they are for now and then bring them back 'round later when we need them. That being said: For the love of Someone, will these two ever manage to simply tell each other the truth of what happened instead of thinking they can protect each other by lying about it all the time? Hrmpf. As a big fan of open communication myself, I'm close to developing a stomach ulcer with the amount of false truths being spewed here. (Then again – and yes, that is another, way larger meta I'm currently cooking up – it plays so very perfectly into the whole Jane-Austen-Pride-and-Prejudice tragic miscommunication theme that this entire Season has, so I understand the point of it.)

Very uneventful journey indeed, Aziraphale, except for the fact that you were ambushed by a demon who told you she was Crowley's successor, knows about the rumors of the two of you being an item as well as what went down in 1941 (that almost had both of you exposed) and also seems to have figured out where you and your demon boyfriend are hiding Gabriel, all in the span of about a minute. No strange things at all, nooo!

And Crowley's "Oh yeah, fine" is a total lie too. Again, we see him make an absolute run for it before Aziraphale can even enter the bookshop. After all, he just once again witnessed Jim have a Gabriel-flashback, speaking of the Second Coming, while Crowley was alone with him. As fumingly angry he is with the amnesiac archangel – he's also absolutely terrified of what might happen (to him and Aziraphale) should Jim regain his memories. So, no wonder he's quick to vacate the premises after witnessing Jim's rather eery memory flashback (and was, just like Aziraphale, threatened by Shax mere moments later, lol).

But no, nothing out of the ordinary happened to either of them. Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo.

Alright, let's get back on track with the actual topic of this meta. Certainly hot on the trail of something, hm? At first glance, it might seem like Aziraphale is talking about the fact that Gabriel was in company of someone whenever he went to the Resurrectionist Pub. (The clue!) However, I don't actually think he is talking about that. Why? Because, and this slipped my mind too at first, he never actually follows any of this information up, does he? Yes, sure, he went to Edinburgh, found the capital-c Clue and then returned to London. But what does he do with it? Nothing. He doesn't keep investigating this hot trail because that's not the important thing he realized during his journey. No, the more important clue Aziraphale found during his trip, is that Crowley no longer works for Hell and that he is also very much irrevocably in love with him and must confess this at the earliest given chance. (The latter part isn't necessarily a new discovery for Aziraphale, but it surely is fuelled by the fact that he just realized Crowley's out of a Hellish job and simply hasn't told him yet.)

This exchange just the perfect indicator for the fact that Aziraphale, at no point during his drive back, was thinking about the Maggie and Nina mission. He has no idea what Crowley is talking about once he mentions it and seems surprised, even, that he would. Even though they just talked about it on the phone when Aziraphale was still at the graveyard. Which is another important piece of evidence because it means that the last status update Aziraphale got of Mission Lovebirds, was that Crowley had sensed an opportunity to make them fall in love – and had then hung up on him. Why is this important? Because it means that until that very point of their conversation, Aziraphale did not know that Crowley's attempt had failed! There would have been just as much of a chance of Crowley's weather miracle actually working out and Maggie and Nina already having skipped into the sunset happily ever after.

So, riddle me this:

Why would Aziraphale spend the entire ride back from Edinburgh plotting "a night to remember" (because clearly, he already had the entire Ball planned out down to a T in his head since he goes into action right away after arriving) if he didn't even know yet that Crowley's attempt had failed?

To be very clear here: We're not talking about Aziraphale driving on the M1 to London, having a silly little idea for putting on some good music, miracle-ing Nina and Maggie to dance to it and watch them confess their love–

No.

He planned an entire actual Cotillion Ball with very particular location design that involves re-arranging the entire bookshop, specifically designed individual outfits for (almost) every single attendee, topped off with a live band, hors-d'œuvre, drinks and an actual choreographed group dance.

During one car ride.

Where's the party planner Aziraphale AU? I'm waiting!

Now, sure, we know that it's still quite important for Aziraphale to convince Heaven of the faux-reason they gave for their accidental ✨25-Lazarii miracle✨. But if we're all honest, this all seems to be a tad much just to make two random humans fall in love, even for that.

Glittery ball gowns and suits? Red and gold wall curtains? A modified language filter? Bloody vol-au-vents?

Talk about over the top ...

Once we start S2E5, Crowley is still surprised at the mere fact that Aziraphale is actually planning to organize the Monthly Meeting – and he doesn't even know yet that it's gonna be the most extravagant ball-boogaloo that the Whickber Street Community has ever seen! Aziraphale wanting to organize the meeting alone, is enough to render Crowley incredulous, because Aziraphale never mingles with the other shopkeepers. He usually actively avoids them and any sort of social encounters as much as he can because he doesn't care about the bloody Christmas lights, alright?

These things seem mundane and uninteresting to him, obviously, since all he really cares about is hoarding his book collection in peace like the little hedonist he is and drawing as little attention as possible to his none-business business.

Oh, right, speaking of books:

Let's take another unnecessarily detailed look at the whole Whickber Street invitation scene:

Aziraphale realizes very quickly that he's not the only one who's quite unenthusiastic about the blessed Chritsmas lights. And despite his very persuasive methods of temptation ...

... he has to take some more drastic measurements. And those are?

That's right: Giving away his books.

I'll repeat it again, slowly: Aziraphale is willingly (!) giving away or lending his books to pretty much complete strangers to, allegedly, make two other humans strangers fall in love.

Seriously, who is that angel and what has he done with our prim, fussy, hedonistic Aziraphale that protects his books with the vice grip of an eagle carrying his precious prey?

Believe in the importance of Mission Lovebirds as much as you will, but we're talking about Mr. A.Z. Fell here who, over the past millennia, has pretty much spent every day actively working out methods to stop people from purchasing as much as a single paperback from his holy shelves.

And yet: the 1965 September Dr. Who Annual? Given away. The first edition of Expert at the Card Table that was S. W. Erdnase's personal copy? Lent away to grubby human hands to fondle around with.

Let's do another coloured dialogue diversion (don't worry, it's not as extensive as the last one):

Crowley: "You just did what I think you did?" Aziraphale: "I'm not prepared to talk about it." Crowley: "You gave away a book." Aziraphale: "I had to! Maggie and Nina are depending on me. They just don't know it yet."

Crowley backs up my point: This is a huge deal. Aziraphale does not sell his books – let alone give them away for free. We're all shocked! Flabbergasted!

And the explanation Crowley and us get just ... doesn't satisfy. Something and someone sure is depending on this Ball and doesn't know it yet. But it's most definitely not Maggie and Nina, folks.

You know for whom Aziraphale would give away his books in the blink of an eye, though?

Mhm, that's right.

This pretty old serpent.

I want to take a minute to show you the reaction again that Aziraphale has upon entering the very same magic shop him and Crowley went to in 1941 to acquire the Bullet Catch:

You ... you need a minute there, angel? You're sure looking a little ... affected.

And I mean, well, no wonder. He reminisced about that very memory four hours last night. To him, this shop is where the most turbulent, ecstatic, adrenaline-fuelled and romantic night of his life began. And it shows.

I've made my point in my other meta series about how Aziraphale is an incredibly nostalgic character. He romanticizes so many things in his memories – especially the parts that feature Crowley. So, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's once again willing to loosen the tight grip he has on his book collection to get the successor of Will Goldstone's Magic Shop, the shop that started it all for him, to come to his fancy Ball.

As we watch Aziraphale and his little lap dog demon pat around Soho, I'd like to take another second to point out that he goes to seven or more establishments before he even invites Nina.

... and he only does so because she starts talking to them on the street. Almost like he'd forgotten about it. Why not ask her at the very beginning? To establish whether or not he'd have to book-blackmail her too?

"Perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind", except that he's using you and Maggie as a pretence to resolve his own clusterfuck of a relationship-miscommunication Jane-Austen-style so that he can then hopefully confess his undying love to his demon not-boyfriend boyfriend.

Marvellous!

You'll forgive me another short diversion but my God, the whole exchange at the Marguerite's restaurant with Crowley literally cat-call-whistling Aziraphale over to him (and Aziraphale checking if he meant someone else first, I–)? I am weak. So, so weak and

However, this is also when we get a snippet of Crowley finally revealing the truth in place of his "Oh, he's fine"-lie earlier and telling Aziraphale that he's actually pretty scared Jim might turn back into Gabriel and smite him altogether. And Aziraphale's response is, in a cosmic sense, (remember the pink paragraph now) so hilarious:

"Have you thought of just talking to him?"

Yeah, have you? Have any of the two of you? Just thought about talking? To each other? About anything?

'pparently not. But hey, it's all good because remember what the ultimate remedy for star-crossed lovers simply misunderstanding each other is?

Bish, bash, bosh, problem solved!

Back at the ballroom bookshop, Aziraphale sends Crowley to invite Maggie in order to, in my opinion, not spoil the Ball-y surprise for him. (Inviting Maggie only now?! Wouldn't she be one of the only two guests who really should attend? Why the short notice? If she's really that important for the Ball you're planning, hm?)

On top of this, we see Nina almost not attending the Ball meeting after her partner broke up with her and Crowley being the one who coincidentally runs into her and ushers her into the bookshop before Shax and her "legion" of demons start creeping up on them. Again, if this hadn't happened by pure coincidence, Nina would have left to go home and this whole Ball would have taken place without her, rendering the apparent sole purpose of making her fall in love with Maggie useless.

Why doesn't Aziraphale care more for both of them to attend and be there? Why is he instead busy fussing over everything looking perfect and wonderful and doesn't even seem to notice that both Nina and Maggie are really late to the meeting?

Well. Well.

The answer's in the title, babes.

Alas, Crowley safely gets Maggie and Nina to join them, Mr. Brown is the only one who doesn't get a miracled outfit (fussy, petty angel, you just don't like him, do you?), Jimbriel stuns with glamour and flirt (and whatever sexually suggestive thing he does with his cheeks) and the Whickber Street Ball is a-go!

Sorry, I just had to chuck this in again because Crowley's face here absolutely kills me every time. He looks so confused, I am hollering.

And the heart eyes Aziraphale is making at Nina and Maggie now that they're actually here?

Oh, bless it, angel.

He's all like "Oh look, it's working! Jane was right! It's all going to be resolved, all the misunderstanding and quarrels! Crowley, where's Crowley–"

Ah yes, there he is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is an angel who is not listening to a single word being said right now. No, in his head, Aziraphale is already down on one knee, pouring his heart out to Crowley after they just danced the night away.

Oh, yes, right. The dancing.

Parallel much?

But well, as marvellous and beautifully romantic as her stories tend to be, it turns out that Jane Austen isn't always right after all. Because before we know it, the perfect night shatters into many-a tiny pieces (literally).

And once again, fhwack:

... the rosy bubble bursts.

Let's take one more deep breath so I can make my final point:

In S2E2, Aziraphale explains to us very exactly what Jane's Balls (hrhr) used to be about: Solving miscommunication and confessing love to one another.

During his car journey back from Edinburgh, Aziraphale:

doesn't know Crowley's Mission Lovebirds had failed

remembers 1941 and just how badly he's in love with Crowley

and also realizes that they seem to have been wildly miscommunicating for quite some time now. (Crowley didn't even tell him he basically got let go!)

So, what does maddeningly strong love plus a want to resolve all the miscommunication equal? That's right: A night to remember! A Ball to change it all! A dance, a vol-au-vent, a confession. And, ideally, a happy ever after. Because:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man angel in possession of a good fortune Jane Austen collection, must be in want of a wife demon husband.”

The Ball was never for Nina and Maggie. As a byproduct, maybe, yes. But the whole rest of the glimmer and glamour, the careful, romantic planning and set up of it all, the book-bating the other shopkeepers– that was for Crowley and Crowley only.

And oh, if only it were as easy as in the books.

*whispers* I'm sorry, I had to.

***

Your honour, the tinfoil-hat crackpot defence rests. Feel free to share thoughts (and prayers) if you want to!

Au revoir! 💗

[carolmunson]

it's your party and i'll cry if i want to (sadist!daddydom!eddie x f!masochist!reader)

warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni. sadism/masochism. established relationship. intense spanking with hands and implements. angst. hurt/comfort. daddy kink, some major daddy dom energy from eddie in this one. lots of fluff at the end. some yearning. mild threats. accidental bratting/all around bad attitude from reader. eddie calls reader a 'bitch' outside of a scene. mentions of being on period. name calling: 'stupid' 'bad girl', pet names 'baby, angel, honey, etc'. mild exhibitionism (continuing a scene when someone walks in), YES there is aftercare/communication. anything i might've forgot, i'll add later. i'm sorry!

---

Eddie checked his watch for the third time with an annoyed grunt, elongated and growing in volume as he saw the time. 10:45.

And that would be fine -- that is, if he hadn't asked you to be at his trailer by 10:00 AM.

And being this late would have also been fine if you had called him to let him know you were running late -- like you were supposed to. It was one of the rules he gave you that was the most important to him. Not that he needed to know where you were at all times, he was just always quick to jump to the worst case scenario. 'Oh, she's late? She died. She definitely died. She's bleeding out somewhere alone.'

It didn't help that Eddie's van was in the shop getting fixed up. Sure he could've done it himself but the guys wanted to do something nice for him after all the extra shifts he'd been taking. So lately, he'd been relying on you to get anywhere that wasn't his job.

He hates how you drive, it's the only thing he doesn't like about you.

A few more minutes pass and he hears the familiar crunch of tires over dried leaves, the sharp blaring of your car horn beeping to let him know you were there.

You never do that. You always get out and knock to say good morning, to give him a kiss, to tell him how cute he looks in his outfit. Eddie frowns and opens the screen door, patting his pockets to check for his wallet and keys before closing the main door behind him. He sees you in the driver's seat and can tell you're in a mood so he swallows whatever venom he had collecting on his tongue.

"Morning, sweet thing," he says softly, opening the passenger's side door, "You okay?"

You take the keys out of the ignition and toss them on the seat toward him, "I know you're gonna ask to drive so, here."

You huff when you unclick your seatbelt and get out of the car, grumbling something under your breath that Eddie can't quite make out. He has half a mind to catch you by the chin and ask you to speak up but he shakes out the thought -- he punished you last week, he didn't need to punish you again. At least not yet.

Eddie gets in the driver's seat while you ease into the passengers seat, putting your seatbelt on before he can ask you to. Even though he never wears a seatbelt, so you don't understand his incessant need to make sure you're wearing one.

After he pulls out of the park and onto the road, Eddie settles into the seat catching glances at you when he can.

"Why didn't you call?" he asked, he tried to keep it as light as possible.

"Woke up late, slipped my mind," you shrugged, looking out the window at the orange and bright red leaves.

"I know it might've been a rough morning but you're supposed to call, baby," he turns his head to you, putting a hand on your knee, "I don't appreciate being left in the dark, you know that."

"It's really not a big deal," you mumble, moving your knee out of his hand and keeping your gaze on the Indiana foliage.

"Okay..." he says to himself, putting the spare hand back on the wheel to meet the other.

The first stop on your day of errands before movie night at Eddie's trailer was to the shop so he could check out the van. He didn't mean to be such a stickler about it, but that really was his baby. You stayed in the car while he went in, watching him look back at you with a little wave before he got in the shop.

When he got back, your mood hadn't subsided. He took a deep breath when he opened the door and you greeted him with a "What did you take the whole thing apart and put it back together? That took forever."

"Sorry, babe, they just had a lot to run down with me," he explained apologetically, "Didn't mean to take so long."

"It's really gonna be so nice when it's done though, they redid the carpeting in the back and everything," he tittered, knee bouncing with excitement -- only to have his smile fall when you mumbled a quiet 'yeah whatever' to the window.

Next was the grocery store for snacks and food for the party. You both stepped through the automatic doors in tandem, the scent of cinnamon hitting your noses hard as they had already switched over the Halloween displays for Christmas displays.

"It's October 24th," Eddie laughed, "Are they kidding?"

You just look at the display and then at the aisles ahead of you, walking towards the candy and cookies aisle where you know he'd be headed first anyway.

Eddie shakes it off, something had to be wrong. Maybe you just weren't ready to talk about it yet. You do like having your space, afterall. He catches up next to you, offering his hand for you to hold it and then dropping it to his thigh when you shove your hands into your pockets of your jacket.

He swallows a lump building in his throat. Was it something I said? he thinks to himself.

You get to the junk food aisle, scanning the shelves together and he speaks again, "Thinking about going for a red theme -- I'm thinking vampire movies, stuff that gives off bloody and disgusting. Y'know? Stuff like that."

"Get whatever you want Ed, I literally don't care," you say breathily, defeat and annoyance dripping over the words. His whole body turns to you, less offended and angry, more hurt than anything else. You never just dismiss him like that.

"Hey, hey," he says, soft but surprised. He presses you into the bags of chips puffing past the shelving unit, taking your face gently in his hands, "What's goin' on with you, hm? Did I do something? Are you mad at me?"

"No, Ed," you try to pull your face out of his hands and move but he replaces them on your cheeks swiftly. Your cheeks are hot to the touch -- maybe you're sick?

"Are you tired? Hungry?" Ed pleaded, eyes searching for a glimmer of a happier you in your eyes. You were acting a little hangry, you always were so huffy when you didn't eat enough. He guessed maybe you didn't eat breakfast since you woke up so late -- that had to be it.

"Want me to grab you something here? Or I can grab you something at a drive-thru. Is that what you want?" he's practically begging for you to smile, desperate to see you nod and say sorry -- you're just hungry, you're just tired, you just need a kiss. God, he hadn't even gotten to kiss you yet today.

"Oh my god, Ed, stop -- I'm fine. You're being annoying," you half-whine while pushing past him, "Just get what you need to get so we can go, please."

Ed heaves a big sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before closing his hand into a fist and leaning his forehead on it. You're in public, don't react the way you want to react right now. You just punished her a few days ago, keep your cool.

He opens his eyes and reaches for your keys attatched to his chain, deatching them and tossing them to you.

"Why don't you go wait for me in the car, okay? I won't be long in here," he offers. Maybe you just didn't feel like running errands, maybe you didn't want to go to the grocery store. You had told him once that the lights gave you a headache.

The late October air bites your cheeks when you step outside, savoring the heat in the car when you start it. Some time later, Eddie comes out, gocery bags in his hands that make him look like a Libra scale.

He knocks on the window, "Hey angel, can I get those keys for the trunk?"

You roll down the window just a crack and pass them through, satisfied by the exhausted sigh he lets out when you do it. His patience was starting to wear a little thin. Even more so when you kept changing the radio station so often that he just told you to shut it off and keep it off.

The next and most obvious stop was to Family Video to pick up the tapes for tonight. Eddie stopped for a second to talk to Steve at the counter, keeping his eye on you while you walked through the aisles and shelves of tapes. Robin came out of the back, so pleased to see you — Eddie watched your whole demeanor change. Smiley, happy, reaching out to hug her — toying with her new bracelet, giggling. His jaw clenched.

“You okay?” Steve asks, tapping his arm, “You look like you’re gonna kick Rob's ass.”

Eddie shakes his head to wash the attitude out of his face, “She’s just — she’s been in a mood all day. And all of a sudden Robin makes her happy? I mean, come on.”

“Ladies, am I right?” Steve rolls his eyes and looks over his shoulder at you and Robin. You’re reaching up to grab a case for Misery to read the back, your pinafore riding up and up while you reach. Eddie knows your body, the curve of your ass just hidden by the hem clinging to the fat just under it.

“Let me get it,” Eddie calls over before you put on a show for Family Video. His voice is sharp, making you freeze in place at first. Sinking slowly back onto your feet, you toss him a scowl while crossing your arms.

“I don’t want it anymore, it’s fine,” you mutter, disappearing behind another shelf. Eddie rolls his eyes with a huff, gesturing to you to Steve silently saying ‘See what I mean.’

"Someone's moody," Steve teases loud enough for you to hear.

"Oh my God," they hear you groan, hidden in the aisles.

"Guys, leave her alone," Robin chides, grabbing a box of rewound tapes off the counter, "Everyone's allowed a bad day, y'know?"

"I'm literally here," you snap, stomping out of the aisles, "Can you guys stop talking about me like I'm not here? For fuck's sake. "

"Hey," Eddie warns, his hand falling down on the counter. You close your eyes and let your breath out through your nose.

"Sorry, Rob," you frown, shoulders sulking. Robin shakes her head, making a face to imply that you didn't need to apologize, pulling you into a hug. You know what you're doing by not apologizing to Eddie or Steve, but you can't find yourself to care about the consequences.

Ed takes you by the hand to grab the movies for tonight, shielded by the sterile aisles and the smell of plastic. You hear Robin and Steve talk amongst themselves, the jingle of the bell as customers file in and out.

"Ah, the horror section," you mumble, completely deadpanned, "Never been here before."

Eddie stiffens, he doesn't feel bad anymore. Now he's angry. Now he thinks you're doing it on purpose.

"You wanna get whupped when we get home?" he asks sternly, "Keep it up."

He hopes the threat doesn't fall on deaf ears, but you aren't listening. You just cross your arms and burn holes into the back of his curly head while he picks two movies and tucks them under his leather clad arm.

He smiles at you when he turns around, squishing your cheeks between his finger and thumb, "Y'know, sucks that you have to be so mean 'cause you are awfully cute when you're in a little mood." He can play your game, too.

Ugh, fuck him. You roll your eyes and pull your chin out of his hand, you're like a woman posessed. This bad mood swarming through your body like sludge in your blood stream. You want to be happy, you want to be excited for movie night -- but you're just not. You wanna rip your skin off and scream in the aisles of Family Video. You wanna cause a scene.

At check out, the door opens and a hard gust of cold wind blows through the entry way. It wraps around your bare thighs and knee high socked calves -- you catch a little chill, a small shiver running through your shoulders.

"It's startin'a get too cold to wear these little dresses, baby," Eddie chastises while Steve scans the tapes and enters his employee number into the computer, "You're gonna get the flu."

"The flu's a virus, you can't get it from being cold," you huff, drumming your fingers on the counter. Eddie bites his tongue in his mouth, exchanging a look with Steve while he passes the money for the rentals over to him.

"Learn something new every day, don't we Harrington?" he asks, trying to keep you from bubbling over in front of your friends.

"That's basic high school biology Ed," you snap, venom stinging on your tongue, "No wonder it took you three fucking years to graduate."

"Woah, woah!" Steve's brow furrows, shaking his head, "Yellow flag. Not cool." Of course, a sports reference.

"It's fine," Eddie says quietly, his eyes cast downward, "We'll see you guys later."

He grabs the tapes with one hand and your sweatered bicep in the other, wrenching you out of the store to the car. He tosses the tapes in the back seat, peeling out of the parking lot with a screech.

You're silent on the road, not even the radio on to soften the tension, both fuming -- buzzing with anger. Eddie reaches for the cigarette tucked in his ear, hiding behind his long messy curls. It sits between his full lips, dangling while he searches for his lighter. You hear the flick and wait for him to take the first inhale, your teeth grind together so hard you swear he can hear it. Time, and time, and time again you had told him -- "Jesus Christ. Not in my fucking car, Ed."

You pluck the cigarette out of his mouth and toss it out the crack in your window.

Eddie slams on the breaks and you both jostle forward at the impact, the squeal of the tires echoing through the empty road. He turns to you with wild eyes, incredulous, "Are you on the fucking rag or something?!"

You don't respond, instead you cross your arms tighter around your chest and look out the window. You avoid his angry look, your heart pounding, knowing his is too.

"We're going home," he mutters, pulling a u-turn and heading toward the backroads that lead to the trailer park.

"No, no, you still wanted to stop at Melvald's for paper plates, and decorations," you offer quietly.

"Well maybe if you'd been such a bitch, I would've gotten to run all my errands," he explains, frustration bubbling in his chest. He swallows the lump building in his throat again. He didn't mean to call you a bitch, he's never called you that outside of play. But fuck did you have to bring up how hard it was for him to graduate?

"We can still," your voice lilts, going up an octave, "It doesn't have to be ruined."

"We are going home," he says with finality, eyes glued to the road. You can beg with your soft voice all you want, he's had enough today.

The both of you continue the ride back to Eddie's trailer in silence, just his and your shuddering breaths breaking through every now and again. You knew what you were in for when you got in the door, and part of you knew you deserved it -- but another part thought maybe, if you were sweet enough, he'd change his mind.

He pulls in with a quick turn, tires skidding in the dead grass wet with frost. You roll up your window and open the door, watching as Eddie reaches back to get the tapes out of the back. You step lightly to the trunk, waiting for him to come around with the key so you can bring in the groceries.

"Oh, you wanna be helpful now?" his voice is bitter, "You're a brat all day and now that you're in trouble you wanna be nice?"

You pout, just a little. Watching his hands as he unlocks the trunk and it eases open. As you reach for the grocery bags he swats them away, "I got it."

"Fine," you sneer, marching toward the door, "You got it."

"Oh-ho-ho, you just wait darlin'," he smiles while he slams the trunk closed, but it's the smile he does when he can't contain himself. When his hands are vibrating. When he wants to yell but can only laugh. Bar fights at The Hideout, blow out arguments with Wayne, when the gas station clerk calls him a freak.

Now it was you.

He walks past you, groceries and tapes in hand, fishing out his keys to open the door -- the door squeaking open. The sound of it mocks you because you know what's to come when it clicks closed.

Eddie puts the bags down on the table in the kitchenette, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on one of the chairs. You stand by the closed door, the leather of the belt hanging next to the door frame taunting you.

Eddie takes his time to put the groceries away, leaving out the chips and other snacks he picked up. He'd put them in bowls later for the set up. Fuck. He does have bowls or paper plates -- you didn't go to the store.

You watch him go to the phone on the wall in the kitchen, dialing without looking -- you can hear Steve's cheery voice on the other end. "What's up, Ed?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"You're the only person who calls me on my car phone."

"Okay, whatever. Sorry to ask this, but we didn't get a chance to go to Melvald's. Would you be able to pick some stuff up for me?" he asks while keeping eye contact with you. Now you feel bad. Eddie liked hosting movie night, he liked putting up decorations and making it feel like a party. It was something he looked forward to every month when it was his turn and his were always so fun that everyone ended up sleeping over. Now it felt ruined because you just couldn't stop. You couldn't let him have his day.

Eddie says his thank you's when he's done asking for Steve's help and hangs up the phone. He motions you over when he takes the few steps into the living room, sitting on the couch with a groan. You follow solemnly, standing across the room from him.

"Didn't I just have to punish you last week?" he asks while inching forward on the cushions, legs spread wide in front of him, "I mean, jesus baby girl, you're really just askin' to get whupped these days."

Daddy's home. Eddie always ended up adopting a mix of his co-worker's Hoosier accent and Wayne's slight southern drawl when he stepped into that role. Always coming out when maybe you needed to really learn a lesson. Whenever the brat came out to play without him asking for it.

It was your least favorite game -- not because you didn't like it necessarily, but Eddie relied heavily on making sure you were embarrassed. He wasn't mean. He was mocking. He liked how it made you feel, he liked how you turned red when he called you his baby. How your stomach turned when he put you over his lap. So rudimentary, but deeply effective. Somehow, getting spanked by his hand like this hurt more than anything else.

"C'mere," he says, waving you forward, "Come to daddy."

Your heart sinks and flutters simultaneously -- suddenly it's unbearibly hot in his trailer despite the light frost on the ground outside and your bare knees under your corduroy pinafore.

"Ed...c'mon, people are coming over," you say quietly, toying with the hem of your dress, "Can't you punish me later?"

"After you ran that mouth all day? After you showed up here late this mornin' and didn't even call? You broke all my rules," he scolded, "Get over my lap, sweet thing, gotta teach you."

"Please," you whisper, your glassy eyes meeting his, "I'll be good the rest of the night, I promise."

"That gives you way too much leeway. You'll start thinkin' you can get away with everything. You know what they say: spare the rod, spoil the child," he shrugs, "And you're so spoiled as it is. Aren’t you, baby?"

You nod, shifting your weight on your feet. Your skin crawls at the lilt in his voice; you can feel him getting impatient with you.

"So why doesn’t my spoiled little thing come over here and take her punishment, hm?"

You know if you don’t go over there, he’ll make you. His demeanor is so different when he’s like this, so sweet — cooing at you, gentleness even when he’s talking down to you. A soothing balm to help make you feel small, stupid, and needy. Like you can’t do anything without his guidance. He plucks at your emotional set backs as nimbly and expertly as he does his guitar.

“No, I think that’s too hard for you, baby. I'll figure it out.”

“Was that too difficult for you to understand? Why don't we try again.”

“I think you need a break, why don't you let Daddy take care of everything?"

"Let daddy do it for you. You need to learn when to ask for help when you need it."

"We can talk about it when you're not acting like such a little brat, okay?"

You inch over and slide over his lap and even though you know it’ll hurt, it’s so comfortable to let go for him. To let him teach you a lesson. To let it out on the couch cushions in the form of fat tears and whines and screams. Kicking your legs and squirming.

“There’s my good girl,” he murmurs while you get situation on top of him. eddie let’s a warm hand slide over your thigh before pushing your dress up over your hips to your waist, "Knew she was still in there."

Ed takes a moment to admire the softened bruises on your ass when he gathers your panties at the base of it, finally in their last stage of healing from last week's play time. Maybe he could afford to go harder than he expected. Excellent news for him, awful news for you.

“You don’t have to count out loud to me today, angel. Don't think you can count that high,” he teases, calloused hand smoothing over your ass before coming down hard over it with a loud smack ringing in the living room of the trailer.

“Ah-ow!” you yelp, his over the knee spankings just hurt a little bit more than anything else. Maybe it was the embarrassment of the position, the way he played with your mind a little before hand. Something about the crack of his palm against you when you felt dizzy like this was a different type of pain.

What a shame that you loved it so much.

“You know you deserve this, baby,” he says softly, “I don’t like to punish you, but I gotta keep you in line. You really embarrassed me today.”

“M'sorry, daddy,” you frown into the couch, hips jumping at the next strike. A warm little buzz forming on your backside while he continues.

"Are you?" he asks, his hand smacking especially hard against the swell of your ass. The first choke of a sob escapes your chest and he hums with satisfaction, "You don't sound sorry."

"I think daddy's gonna make you very sorry, though," he threats. Eddie takes his time switches his rings over to the hand he's using to spank you, knowing it just adds injury to even more injury. He smiles to himself when you squirm at the feeling of the metal skating across your warm skin.

"Don't like that?" he asks. You shake your head no and he 'tsks' above you, letting his fingers slide between your legs, "You sure?"

"Mmm," is all you can reply, feeling hazy and spacey under his touch. Your stomach tightens at his finger tips grazing your folds, presing slightly to get between them, a pool of slick welcoming them immediately.

"I think you do like that," he whispers headily. Eddie takes his fingers away, eliciting a wanting whimper from you, his chuckle was daunting.

His hand smacks upward and downward on one cheek, then the other, in a consistent rhythm. One, two, three, four, one, two, three four. Hard, sweeping spanks making a bloom of color spread over your skin more and more as he went. He does this for who knows how many minutes, as many as it takes for your legs to start kicking. For the color in your skin to fall to an angry crimson.

"Here we go with the dramatics," Eddie tutts, catching your ankles with his free hand, "What might happen if you don't stay still?"

You rack your brain and he isn't patient, raining down smacks in quick succession on your left butt cheek and then your right. The skin burning underneath his hand.

It comes to you hazily, what he says over and over again when you move around too much -- too many spots that could cause damage if he hits them instead, "I could get hurt," you whine out.

"Good girl," he coos, "Look at you, trying your best to remember -- my stupid little thing."

You can't help but pout at the dig, pouting more when his hand starts up their symphony again.

"Daddy, please," you cry, your hand reaching out to cover your ass, "Please no more."

"Excuse me," he hisses, spare hand now coming up to press your wrist against your back, "You earned this. Be a big girl and take it."

Your face burns when he admonishes you, embarrassment washing over your body. You can't help but struggle against him but he pulls you tight in place, steadying you before he starts again, "Behave."

You can feel Eddie's erection building against your hip, your mouth filling with spit at the thought of it. Maybe he'll fuck you if you just let him get through this part, he usually does. You're still playing afterall, this is just punishment -- you earned this.

Eddie continues, grunting with each stinging hit, as much force as he can into it. His tongue swells in his mouth when it watches the fat of your hips and ass bounce back at his assault. This was a show exclusively for him, the best part about impact play. You know, outside of the crying, and whimpering, and your shining wet pussy between your legs. And the power, fuck. Don't even get him started on the high of all that power and control.

Tears are streaming down your face, mixing with the strings of snot oozing from your nose. You look a mess, just like he wanted and just like he knew you would.

His smacks slow down to one every few seconds, like the end of a popcorn bag in the microwave, before smoothing his hand over your vibrating flesh.

"That was a good warm up, huh?" he asks. Your face pales.

"Wh-what?" you sob out, looking back at him. He smiles, his wolfish 'Master' smile, devilish.

"That was a good warm up, wasn't it angel?" he coos, nails softly grazing your thighs, making you hiss.

"Warm up?" you ask, eyes shining and round. He maneuvers you off his lap, steadying you while your jellied legs find some footing.

"You thought you were gettin' off that easy?" he asks, in that same soft voice, "That's cute."

You pout but it doesn't help, he pushes back on the couch and crosses his legs. Eddie's looking up at you but it still feels like he's looking down.

"Go get the paddle, baby," he instructs, "You know which one."

You swallow hard, shoulders shaking, "But why?"

"Because I said so," he says it like you're stupid. You feel stupid. You feel small.

You trudge to the bedroom and back to the livingroom with the paddle in hand: wooden and carved with holes. Beyond pain on it's own, extra painful with a warm up.

You reluctantly pass it to him and feel sick at how fucking hot it looks in his hand. With a sniffle and bite of your lower lip, you lay back down across his lap, bending at the waist, your toes meeting the floor in your socked feet.

He adjusts your underwear, pulling them back up to cover you, the elastic scratching uncomfortably on you, "How about we keep these on for this part? Does that sound good?"

"Yes," you shudder out, even though it doesn't make a difference. The cotton is so thin.

"What do you say?" he asks, sliding the paddle across your thighs.

"Thank you, daddy," you mumble into the cushion.

"What was that?" he asks, "Gotta speak up."

You know he heard you, he just wants to hear you say it again.

"Thank you, daddy," you say more clearly.

"Still can't hear you," it comes out like a song and the paddle comes sound with a loud SMACK across your thighs.

"THANK YOU, DADDY," you cry out, tears springing from your eyes. The air gets trapped in your throat, sputtering while you try to steady your breath. He gives you a moment to collect yourself, extra careful to check if you're too far gone to know how to tell him to stop.

"We're gonna do twenty, okay?" he asks, "Think you can do that?"

"Yes, sir," you sniffle out, head hanging.

"Twenty's good right?" he asks, you nod, "How come?"

"S'what I d-deserve," you say to him without thinking, fully obedient now.

"Smart girl," he coos, placing the paddle next to him so he can slide a finger into your panties, "Very smart girl."

"P-please," you whisper into the couch cushion, you pray he doesn't hear it but you also wish he would. You hear his pleased hum when his finger tip meets your soaked opening again, pushing further into you. He pumps it into you lazily, enough to watch your hips writhe in time against him -- but it's just not enough.

You know better than to ask for more, not letting more than a disappointed whimper out of your mouth when he takes it away.

“Maybe later, yeah?” he asks, voice mocking your wanton whines, “If you’re a good girl?”

You simply nod, bracing yourself when you hear him pick up the paddle again. Down it comes without warning, knocking the wind out of you once again. The pain shoots down your legs and up your back in in a shivering sting. You cry loudly, blubbering inconsolably into your forearms resting on the couch. This is what he wanted to hear. Thank god the windows were closed.

"Want you to think about this --" He grunts when he brings the paddle down again, "-- when you think about running that mouth to me."

He waits for the pain to almost stop reverberating in your body to bring down the next blow. Eddie never let you take a full breath between blows when you needed to learn something.

"When your in one of these moods you--" the next strike of the paddle elicits a near scream out of you, racked with tears, "-- talk to me about it before you start gettin' mean. You hear me?"

"Y-yes-s-s-s," you sob.

"Are you sorry?" he asks, the next strike is over your thighs.

"I'm sorry!" you yelp before falling back into shuddering cries, "So so sorry, I'm sorry."

He continues on without reprieve: 6, 9, 12, 14 -- or was it 13? -- you're not even counting -- you're not sure if you can count at this point. Your eyes have gone glassy, you're crying so hard that you're drooling.

The sound of a knock at the door takes you out of your haze for a moment but you don't feel Eddie's body tense, he just calls out, "It's open!"

You hear the door open and immediately reach for the hem of your dress to push it down, but Eddie's mean laugh and swat of his hand puts you back in place.

"Hey, they didn't have pumpkin paper plates but they had ghosts and I thought maybe that would be f-- oh," Steve stops with the plates in his hand, looking you both over, eyes lingering briefly on your reddened ass and thighs.

"Sorry to interrupt."

"You're fine," Eddie rolls his eyes, "You can put it all on the counter. Thanks so much, man. Let me know what I owe you."

Steve shakes his head with a little laugh, leaving the bags on the counter full of plates, napkins, and decorations. Listening to you whimper in the other room. Steve had been plenty privy to whatever you and Ed were getting up to. All of the older group was. The first time you showed up to a group hang with bruises was when you both had to come clean immediately -- there were hardly any secrets between the five of you anyway.

Plus, Steve liked learning new things.

Eddie doesn't mind the audience, bringing the paddle down again with new vigor. You try desperate to hold in the cry in your chest but it breaks when he speaks to you.

"What baby, you embarrassed?" Eddie coos, "You didn't have a problem embarrassing me in front of Steve earlier. Just returning the favor."

"You wanna tell him why you're gettin' punished?" he asks, one hand smoothing over your back while the other brings the paddle down again. You shake your head no, embarrassment washing over you in heavy waves knowing Steve is watching you get punished like a school girl.

"I think you should," Eddie continues, "Think it'll help the lesson sink in."

You know you don't have a choice, so you lift your head up mumbling weakly, "Because I was a bad girl."

"Little louder so Steve can hear," he encourages.

"Because I was a bad girl," you repeat. Your face was fuming with a deep blush.

"There we go," Eddie soothes to you quietly, "I think you had enough, sweet thing. Why don't you go wait for me in our room?"

You swallow, ignoring the shooting pain in your backside while you scramble off his lap and down into the hall to the bedroom.

Eddie turns towards Steve while you scurry away, "At least she's self aware."

"At least." Steve agrees, cheeks reddening, "Look I gotta go pick up Elaine, her sister took the car so she can't get over here. I'll probably be around when everyone else shows up though."

"So she's finally her real name and not just 'some girl'?" Ed asks, surprised.

Steve blushes, "Yeah I think she's gonna stick around for a while. She's been um -- really receptive to some new stuff we've been tryin' out."

"Well you're learning from the best, so," Eddie cockily meets his cheek to his shoulder.

"Pfft, okay," Steve rolls his eyes while he walks toward the door, swinging his keys on his fingers, "See you in a little."

Eddie watches him leave, stretching on the couch before getting up and walking slowly over to the bedroom. He slowly opens the door, listening for anything beyond your regular cry or whimper.

"Baby?" he asks, his voice back to normal. There you are on his bed, already in a pair of his sweat pants and a t-shirt. Your pinafore and sweater and socks folded neatly on the end of the mattress. Your makeup stianed face wiped clean with the cold cream and clean face cloths you kept on his dresser.

"Oh, baby," he frowned, "You look so sad."

"I'm sorry," you said, your shoulders curving inward in a sulk, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to take everything out on you today."

"I know," Eddie shuts the door behind him, just in case anyone showed up earlier than expected. He walked over to the bed, barely getting onto it all the way before you found your way onto his lap. Your tear stained face in his neck.

"Do you feel better?" he asked, rubbing circles onto your back and pressing a kiss onto your shoulder. You nod against him.

"I'm sorry," you repeat.

"It's okay," he coos, "I'm sorry, too."

You lean back to look at him and he looks at you with a smile, his big doe eyes warm and crinkling at the ends.

“I love you,” his voice is cozy. Medicine for you bad mood.

“I love you, too,” you respond, leaning in slow while you rest a hand in his cheek. Your lips find home against his and you hear him sigh with relief into it. He deeply reciprocates, mouth desperately meeting yours, hands resting softly in your hair.

“Haven’t gotten to kiss you all day,” he whispers. His next kiss is feverish and needy, pulling you close to him, pressed against his chest.

“I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to, I just…I don’t know,” you explained between breaths.

“S’okay,” he says, leaning back a bit to look in your eyes, “Can we talk about that?”

“Yeah,” you nod, sitting further back on his thighs.

“When we play, or when you make me upset, or if I’m feeling sad or angry - I don’t ignore you, right? I don’t deny you what you want or need unless it’s part of a scene? And even then you can always ask to stop?” he looks hurt when he asks, his hand finding your thigh, giving it a little squeeze.

“No, you always listen. You always communicate,” you say.

“So you have to offer me the same kindness, baby,” he strokes your cheek, “You really hurt my feelings today."

Your eyes water, chest aching, "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up high school or -- or act like I didn't care about t-tonight, or your c-car. I do care."

"Shh, shh, shh, I know. I know," he soothes, "But when something's bothering you, even if you don't know what it is -- I need you to communicate that to me. So I can try to help."

This isn't the first time you've had to have this conversation and he can see the defeat in your face.

"We're both learning," he says, pressing a peck to your lips and then your forehead, "We'll do it together."

You nod, resting into his soft hands that have now found your cheeks again.

"And I'm sorry I called you a bitch in the car," Eddie says and you know he means it, "I'll never call you that again."

"I mean, you will," you giggle softly. He melts at the sound.

"I will, but in a different context," he giggles with you, another kiss to your lips, "In the way that you like."

You match his posture, putting your hands on his face, pulling him close to you. Another kiss, slow and sensual, pillowy lips capturing eachother's with anticipation for whatever might come later. Clicks of spit exchanging and tongues dancing floating through the room like music -- their own language.

"I love you," he whispers, his forehead pressed against yours.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeats. He needs you to know after scenes like that, where you're more vulnerable than normal. A real punishment that might make you forget.

At the same right, he needs you to say it back -- and when you do, he sees stars.

"Let me get you patched up, yeah?" he asks. You nod, laying down on the mattress to let him comfort you after such an assault. Feeling much better now that you had a sore ass and a good talk.

After the normal routine of aloe gel and a massage, you let Eddie get the trailer together for movie night while you took a break in the bedroom. Sometimes you needed a little time alone after a scene before you had to go be around people. Plus, he liked decorating by himself.

You can hear people start trickling in: Steve and his lady, Dustin, Robin, Mike, Nancy, their voices tittering their hellos while the screen door swings. You make your way out, padding down the hall in your socks.

"Hi," you croak out, your voice still scratcy from earlier. Eddie comes over to re-welcome you to the real world, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

Dustin looks at you quizically, "Are you okay? You look sad for movie night."

You shrug, about to speak when Eddie butts in, "She'll be alright, Henderson. She just got in a nasty fight with her dad."

You hear Steve snort in the kitchen and roll your eyes before you smile back at Dustin, "I'm okay, thank you for asking."

Eddie fixes you a plate of snacks while you fix him one. Somehow you still haven't realized that you should just get them for yourselves, but there's something sweet about the neutral need to always be caring for each other.

"More sour straws, you're lacking here Munson," you say at the exchange of plates.

"So true," he agrees, turning back around. The rest of the crew walks in, Lucas making a joke that Steve laughs at -- another snort coming out of his nose.

"You sound like a pig Steve," his flavor of the month Elaine laughs. You watch him smile at her, his eyes a little hard, and subtly reach for her chin. He leans in like he's about to kiss her, but before he does he offers a stern, "Watch your mouth."

Her face blooms with heat when their lips meet and you nudge Eddie in the arm, "What're you teaching him, Ed? He's a nice boy."

Eddie tosses you a sly smirk, "He's not as nice as he looks. I promise."

You take your plate from him, sour straws at the right amount, and take your place on the couch. He plops down next to you while everyone gathers in the living room around the TV.

"Day of the Dead, y'all. Let's get into it," Eddie says. He lifts the remote and presses play, turning out the lights at the switch behind your head. His hand falls to your opposite shoulder, rubbing it absentmindedly while the movie begins.

Your eyes meet breifly in the glow of the TV. He offers you a wink before spreading his lips into his regular award winning smile.

[thechekhov]

Hey Chekhov! How do you start converting an AU idea from character sheets and mini comics into a plot outline for a full, continuous comic? Especially if the series you're basing it on isn't complete?

I've been following your white diamond Steven comics for years, and frankly, I love how it builds and continues the scaffolding canon laid to be something that is thematically still the same but also very unique. And I never thought I'll ever say this, but now I'm working on a canon-divergent AU with someone that's I think aiming to do something similar(continue the themes of canon but different). So I'll just like some advice, I suppose!

You might've answered something like this before, honestly, but I tried to dig a little and couldn't really find it.

Thanks, if you do answer this! I just want take the opportunity as well to say also that your comic and blog accompanied me through parts of my late teens, and I'm very grateful for you being a stabilizing influence during that time.

Thank you! I really appreciate you saying that, and I appreciate you respecting me enough to ask for advice.

As for your question...

Well, to be frank, I don't START with character sheets and mini-comics. In fact, for WD!AU, I didn't have any character sheets until I started season 2.

Think of your story as an aquarium. Your characters are fish.

Yes, they're important, but having a whole bunch of fish without any substrate, tanks, feed and WATER..... will not really make for a memorable aquarium experience.

The reality is that all stories should start with an end.

That's my personal approach, anyway.

What I mean is - you need to know the general idea for your story before you begin to write or plan it.

Let's try this:

1.Tell me about your story in THREE sentences!

Just three. Not long ones, just regular ones.

For my AU, @ask-whitepearl-and-steven, it would be:

"A young orphan runs away from home with a mysterious lady who seems more cryptid than human. He realizes that he's not human either - he used to be the ruler of an alien planet! He and the other aliens he meets decide to (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (REDACTED) and he (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (READACTED) (READ ANDCTED) (READ AND FIND OUT)."

YOU should know how YOUR story ends too! Even vaguely.

It helps if you know at what point you plan to lay down the pencil. Because if you DO know, you are always going to know which direction to walk in, even if the end is so far away it's beyond your line of sight.

It's true that when I began WDAU, I didn't have much information about White Diamond and white Pearl, because they had literally ONLY been introduced. I had to guess a lot of the details (like WP being Pink's originally) and what White would be capable of. And thankfully, my original intent for the story's end fit pretty well with what was later revealed!

But don't forget - you could also just fuck around with stuff! It's your story, after all.

And don't forget... to also look back!

2.Tell me WHY the story is happening in the first place.

There's a reason that the beginning of your story happens when it does. If there is no reason to start somewhere, then find a different place to start.

You should be able to tell me "We're picking up the story here because something significant has happened... and that significant thing happened BECAUSE...."

That 'because' is your main background information that should be revealed slowly throughout the story. In WDAU's case, we only have a few pieces of the puzzle. We know Greg's side. He know Earl's side. But there are still little bits and pieces missing! And they're all important for finding out WHY Steven ended up an orphan and WHY he is being followed by White Pearl (Earl) at the very start of the comic!

3.Tell me what the coolest and most interesting things to happen would be....and then write them!

I think this may be something that's rarely said out loud, but I will speak on the behalf of the people...

We should write the scenes we want to read. If you don't want to read the scene you're writing, then DON'T write it!

If you feel like you "have to" do a page and a half of 'lore' because you think it's traditional to have that 'explanation' about the location of your story, or the history of the species or whatever, you're simply wrong. There are other ways to reveal information aside from just forced paragraphs upon paragraphs of information that would make an SAT Reading Section sweat.

Instead, I recommend that you find the most exciting or hilarious way for the characters to discover the most important bits of info. Find a dramatic twist. Shove it into the narrative. Then, figure out what needs to happen to get there.

Ultimately, though, remember this: When you're taking advice from me or from others, don't forget to take advice from yourself, too! It's your story, after all. You know it best, and only YOU can figure out how to get it written.

I hope that helps at least a little bit! Writing it never easy, but it should still be enjoyable!

[jackhues]

karma - auston matthews

notes: this is based off of @matthewshisch's idea (karma is the guy on the leafs)! so s/o to her <3 also, reader is a singer :)) AND gif not mine !

likes are good, reblogs are better!

being a celebrity meant that no matter what, one thing would always be a fixed thing in your life. and that was the rumours.

one week you were dating a new guy. the next, you were engaged to some kid from your hometown. the next week, you were back with your ex.

no matter what, the dating rumours always flew around you. maybe the fact that you never made it public with anyone fuelled those even more. whatever the case, it was funny reading them.

especially when you thought about what you had planned for tonight.

a knock sounded on your door, followed by a familiar voice, "did someone order some flowers?"

you couldn't help the smile growing on your face as you made eye contact with auston in the mirror.

you were in your dressing room at the stadium, getting ready for the opening night of your multi-month tour. you'd worked hard to get to where you were now -- one of the most successful female artists in the world.

and right there by your side, supporting you for the past year, was none other than auston matthews, your boyfriend. you'd met at a leafs game years ago, but he'd only reached out to you just over a year before. ever since then, the two of you kept your relationship under wraps for the most part, doing your best to just enjoy your time together without the media's comments.

you'd talked about going public before, but for the most part, decided to let life take it's course. of course... tonight would be a pretty big surprise.

"hi, you made it," you got up from your chair, sinking into his arms for a hug.

"i wouldn't miss this for the world," he responded, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "it's my girl's big day. first tour in almost three years. nothing's gonna stop me from being here."

you grinned stupidly to yourself, finding auston's words so comforting and sweet. even after a whole year, he managed to make you feel giddy.

"i'm really happy you're here," you whispered, pulling away. "oh! i've got a surprise for you, but i can't give it to you right now. i'll give it after, okay?"

"a surprise for me?" auston repeated. "it's your day."

"hush, i wanted to do it," you said.

another knock sounded on your door, and your assistant, jenny, poked her head in. "y/n, we've got to start in ten. let's go. auston, mark's got your seat saved. head over quick, or someone'll spot you."

"that's not a big deal," auston waved it off. "if someone spots me, they spot me. it's not the end of the world."

"well, fact remains, we need y/n right now," she said. "c'mon, you can have her back when she's done her show."

"i'll see you soon," you kissed auston, before following jenny out to your position.

you adjusted your earpiece, waiting for the lights to dim. as soon as they did, the platform you were standing on moved higher, allowing you to enter directly on stage.

the lights turned back on, and the crowd went wild.

"let the show begin," you whispered to yourself.

---

"'cause karma is the thunder," you sang, "rattling your ground. karma's on your scent like a bounty hunter. karma's gonna track you down."

the crowd waved their flashlights in the air, following you as you continued dancing to the beat of the song, singing along. getting closer and closer to the surprise you planned for auston.

"step by step from town to town," you continued. "sweet like justice, karma is a queen. karma takes all my friends to the summit..."

you paused for half a second, allowing production to ready themselves and for the crowd to pay attention to the small change.

"karma is the guy on the leafs, coming straight home to me!"

you stomped on the mark, blue sparklers going off on either side of the stage -- matching with the colour of your dress and the leafs' colours.

the crowd screamed as you continued your performance, losing their minds at the confirmation that you and auston were dating.

"cause karma is my boyfriend," you locked eyes with auston in the crowd, noticing him smiling widely to himself as people nearby recorded the interaction. winking at him, you continued your song, "karma is a god."

the crowd continued chanting throughout the song, no one truly getting over the lyric change you'd done.

you had a feeling there were gonna be rumours about this for a while.

---

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