#the selection series x reader

[captainsophiestark]

Dive Bar

Maxon Schreave x Reader

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Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: The Selection Series

Summary: As one of the Elite, a finalist in the Selection, Y/N gets to bring Maxon to her hometown to show him around on an official royal visit.

Word Count: 1,841

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I smiled, trying not to squint my eyes against the bright lights flashing in my face. All this time, and I still hadn't gotten used to that.

"Thank you all for coming, but we're going to have to call it a night! Our official tour of the city starts bright and early tomorrow morning, after all," said Maxon Schreave, the man I stood arm and arm  with, a brilliant smile on his face as he addressed the press. They kept cheering and taking pictures as the two of us smiled, nodded, bowed, then headed inside the hotel arm in arm.

As soon as we were through the doors, I sighed and let some of the tension ease out of my shoulders. Maxon kept his posture and demeanor proper until the elevator doors closed on us. Then he sighed, too, and turned to me with a tired smile.

"Well, that was certainly a long day. But I'm happy to be here with you."

I smiled, my face warming. Moments like this, just the two of us with no one else watching over our shoulders, were incredibly rare. I wanted to savor every second of it that I could.

"I'm glad you're here, too. And the tour tomorrow is going to be fun, even if it's also a media circus."

Maxon laughed, offering his arm to me again as the elevator doors opened and we stepped out together. Servants and staff waited to escort us to our  separate suites.

The two of us stopped to face each other in the  middle of the hallway, before going our separate ways. As one of the finalists in the Selection, I got to bring Maxon back to my hometown for a tour and a look at where I'd come from. Aside from being a fun  experience spending time with the man I loved in the place I called  home, it was also the first time we'd spent togehter without the other members of the Selection. Even with all the media and people surrounding our every step, it had been fun.

"I suppose I'll see you in the morning for the circus," said Maxon, taking my hands and staring into my  eyes with a sparkle of mischief in his I grinned back.

"Yeah. I'll see you then."

Maxon hesitated for a minute, then leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. I smiled even wider, although that was hardly possible, then said goodnight to Maxon and headed to my room.

I went through my regular nightly routine, sending my ladies in waiting away to get some rest of their own. I curled up in bed and closed my eyes, then started my mental clock running. I was going to give it a full half hour, to really minimize my chances of getting caught.

When I'd first heard about the hometown dates, I'd mentally planned a full week of various activities from when I'd lived here before someone burst my bubble. We were coming here with the Crown Prince, sole heir to Illea, while the rebels remained a threat. He would not be going anywhere the palace  hadn't planned and approved.

As someone who'd spent most of my time in this city far away from anything the palace would ever select, I'd been furious. What was the point of a home date if Maxon didn't actually get to see my home?

I knew better than to bring that up with anyone, though. So instead, I'd continued to make my own plan. If Maxon was on board, we were going to have the night of our lives.

I slid out from under the covers in the darkness, listening carefully for any sound or movement from my suite. When I heard nothing, I slipped into a more comfortable pair of  clothes (featuring beat-up blue jeans and a ballcap from my original wardrobe when I came to the palace), then headed to the window.

I'd worked in this hotel for a few odd jobs here and there, and I knew I could get to Maxon's room via balcony-hopping if I really wanted to. So that's what I did. I slipped out the window, closing it most of the way behind me so hopefully no one would notice, then moved carefully from one balcony to the other until I got to Maxon's room.

I listened at the window for a minute, and when I didn't hear any conversation, I leaned in to peek through. The room was empty save Maxon, who was just climbing into bed. I grinned and tapped on the window. He looked up, his face changing from surprised to delighted to concerned in a few  seconds. He glanced at the closed bedroom door behind him as he hurried to open the window for me.

"What are you doing here?" Maxon asked, his voice a frantic whisper. I grinned.

"Trying to take you on an adventure, if you're up for a little bit of risk."

Maxon hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the closed bedroom door again. Then, he looked back at me with a smile.

"Just let me get dressed."

I ended up having to help Maxon pick his outfit, since only a few things in his entire wardrobe would give him a chance at blending in with non-royals. I gave him an extra ballcap and told him to keep his head down, and within a few minutes, we were heading through the city to my absolute favorite spot.

"This is it!" I said proudly, turning with a smile to face Maxon. We stood on a dirty street, in front of a glowing red neon sign for my favorite place in the world. They sold the best shitty pizza and seriously toed the line of dive bar, and it had been one of the things I missed most since going to the palace.

"This... is it? Are you sure this is the place, my dear?"

"Oh yeah. Just you wait, you're in for the best night of your life. The palace could never compare."

Maxon smiled and shook his head, but he took my hand when I offered it all the same.

"Alright then. Let's see what this place has to offer."

****************

"Yes!" Maxon shouted, leaping up in the air before landing with a sheepish grin. "I got my first bullseye."

"I saw!" I laughed, beaming at Maxon's excitement. It had taken him the better part of an hour to relax, but now we were playing darts while eating terrible pizza and sipping local beers, like any other normal  couple from my city might. It had been magical.

"If I'm keeping  score correctly, that means I win unless you also get a bullseye, doesn't it?" he asked, fixing me with a brilliant smile. I picked up my dart and nodded.

"That's right. You better cross your fingers, Schreave."

Maxon laughed as I stepped up to the line, leveling my dart at the board. I'd done this so many times before, it was like second nature, even though I  hadn't played a lot of darts at the palace. I drew back, then followed  through and let the dart fly. It smacked into the board just slightly to the left of the center bullseye.

"Oh my- did I just win?" asked Maxon, a slightly delirious joy in his voice. I beamed as I turned around to face him.

"Yeah. I guess you did."

Maxon laughed in disbelief, then moved forward to wrap me tightly in his arms. He picked me up off my feet and spun me around, and I smiled. I hadn't missed a game-winning shot like that in years, but I wanted to see how happy Maxon would be if he won. I'd made the right decision.

"Does this mean I'm the darts champion now?" asked Maxon, a teasing quirk to his mouth as he set me down. "Since I beat you?"

I shook my head, still smiling as I went to retrieve the darts in the board.

"You've  gotta do more than beat me once with beginner's luck to take the title of champion," I said. "Put a dart board in the palace and we can really see what's what."

Maxon grinned. "You have a deal, my dear. Prepare to lose again."

I chuckled. Maxon's words didn't have any heat behind them, and it made my heart soar to see him so happy and carefree. I wished I could give that to him all the time, but I'd settle for tonight and look for opportunities in the future.

Unfortunately, by the end of that game of darts, we had to head back to the hotel or risk being caught  sneaking out. We took our glasses up and dropped them off at the bar, then I settled our tab. Maxon and I walked out of the place together arm in arm, this time no different than all the other regular strangers milling around on the street.

"Thank you for bringing me here tonight," he said as we walked, the cool night air perfect and refreshing. "I don't often get the opportunity to be among the citizens of Illea. That in itself is a treat, but getting to do it with you is the best thing I could imagine."

"I'm always happy to spend time with you, Maxon. Thank you for taking the risk and sneaking out with me."

"I'll sneak away with you every time I can get away with it, and maybe even a few more times than that."

"Well, good. But let's try to make this one of the not-getting-caught times, okay?"

"Of course."

Thankfully,  we made it back onto the balcony outside Maxon's room without issue. His room was dark, the door still closed, meaning none of the palace staff were any the wiser about where we'd gone. Maxon hopped back through the window, and I smiled before turning to go back to my own room, but he caught my hand and pulled me back.

"I just wanted to  say... I really enjoyed myself tonight. I find that I enjoy most times that I spend with you. I... I love you."

I beamed. "I love you too, Maxon. I love every minute we spend together, even when it's many, many minutes of letting the press take pictures of us. You even make royal procedure meetings enjoyable just by being in the room next to me."

Maxon laughed. He glanced down at my lips, then back up at me, a tentative smile on his face.

"Can I kiss you?"

I grinned. "Absolutely."

I leaned forward, and Maxon and I shared a long, sweet kiss through the window. After a moment, we pulled apart, both of us positively glowing. I took a half-step back, never taking my eyes off Maxon.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" I said. He grinned, leaning out the window even further.

"Yes you will."

"Okay. Good. Then goodnight."

"Goodnight, my dear."

I floated back to my room, thankfully also without getting caught, and fell asleep with a smile on my face. I couldn't wait to experience a thousand more places with Maxon, and play a thousand more darts matches together. Anything the future brought, as long as it was with him.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

The Selection Taglist: @valkyriepirate

[dre6ming]

Playing for keeps

Chapter I

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin Butler x Y/n

Plot: Austin is the next in line for the throne, but he can’t be king if he doesn’t have a wife. In your country tradition says that a selection formed of 35 young women must be formed for the prince to find a wife. You are obligated by circumstances to participate against your will. What are the chances that you might be the next queen? None right? Right?

Warning: none

Word count: ~4000

"To heal the soul by the means of the senses and the senses by the means of the soul" or something like that, is what Oscar Wilde said to make me really understand why something so simple as feeling the bristles of my brush stroke the rough surface of the canvas. My lines look a little jagged today, my hand keeps shaking and no matter how many deep breaths I take, the rock sitting on my chest hasn't gotten any lighter.

Thirty five, what a strange and odd number, why so many? Why not more or less? Did they have a mathematician who centuries ago did the math for them and concluded that thirty five was the lucky number to find a wife out? I take a deep breath as the word "wife" bounces off of the walls of my skull. It's not just a wife, it's the future queen.

It's been a little more than 30 years since the last selection, when queen Lori was selected out of the bunch by King David and now the result of their successful selection, their son, prince Austin, is about to have his very own selection. All of the girls in the kingdom between the ages 18-22 were asked to submit an entry into the competition, to hopefully end up being the princess of the kingdom and the future queen.

Emphasis on the word "asked" , we were not obligated to do it, at least not by our government, our parents however? Well the forced me to apply, dragged me down to the office where the applications were collected and made me sign up.

"Y/n it's time, come come sit!!" My mom shouts for me and I put down the paint brush, wiping my hands on a rag, brushing back some hair as I make my way to the very small, very crowded living room. My mom , dad and all my 5 siblings are spread around the tv, watching it like hawks. "Come sit!" Mom pats the spot next to her on the couch and I squeeze between her and my older sister.

I can't help but feel angry at the whole situation, my parents live in a poorer side of the country and the fact that they had 7 kids did not help, I'm right in the middle, being the 4th to be born, my older siblings, are married off to their own households where the also pop baby after baby, that is except for one of my eldest siblings, my sister Hannah, who's the reason why mom put me into the selection in the first place.

To back track a bit and explain, my parents met and got married when they were 20 years old, my brother Josh came a year later, he's now 26 married and expecting child number three, his income already stretched thin. Then came Anna, she's 24 she married in a more stable family, but with baby number two, turning into babies number 2 , 3 and 4, yes that's triplets that she's having, money is low. Mark, 22 now, not married, he's actually, well we don't know, he ran away with a girl from around here, we haven't heard anything in years and since we barely have time to live our own lives and win enough for a living, we've put him aside. My sister Hannah, 22 as well, she's Marks twin, she's supposed to marry, but the guy she chose is from a family of twelve and they have little to no money.

Then there's me, Y/n, 20 being auctioned away in the hopes that the weekly allowance my family will get for my participation would be enough for my sister's wedding and some other things for my youngest siblings. After me my parents had kids 2 more times, Kyle 14 and then the other set of twins, this time identical Tana and Lane, 10 years old.

My mom works as a nurse and my dad is a retired guard from our region. Money is low so we all have to work, but with 2 siblings out of the house and one waiting to marry, we lost working hands. I sell paintings on commission and I also work at the local bakery to try and make some extra money, but it's not enough to support me, mom and my younger siblings. Which is why I was forced by mom to join the selection, the family of the girl competing gets a weekly allowance for as long as she stays in the game, not to mention the chance of actually being queen.

As names are being drawn on tv I can feel everyone in the room tense as the 34th girl gets called out and it's not me, I had 34 chances and I lost them all, now I get one more, but I hope I'll lose again. I don't want to go, I don't want to meet the prince or be his wife, I'm not meant to be queen, I'm just not.

My breath gets caught in my chest as the host, Lucas, puts his hand back in the bowl of names. My ears are ringing as he read the name and I almost faint seeing my picture there. "You got it, hon, good job!" Mom says and all of my present siblings start to chant my name, happy for me. I can barely hear them though, so I get up with tears in my eyes, brushing everyone off, walking out, out of the room, out of the house.

My bare feet, touch the sharp gravel, but I can't give into the pain, all I know is I need to run, run for now, or at least until tomorrow when the people from the palace will be at my door to package me up and send me to their prince. Staring out into the midnight sky, I could see everything I had being ripped apart, I didn't have much, but I had enough. Dropping to the ground and letting the cold grass soak my thin cotton dress, I close my eyes, scared to death about the outcome of what I had just gotten myself into.

The next time I open my eyes, two guards from the royal guard stand in my door and my mom hands me a bag I didn't pack, pushing me out the door. I take one last look back at the people I'm leaving behind and I tell myself I have to at least make it a few weeks, so that my sister could use the money for her wedding, then I'd come back and move to a richer part of the country, where I wouldn't be able to ever see my family. Those are the rules, after you get into the game, when you live you have a higher status and income so they move you and you can no longer interact with your past the way you used to.

Watching my step getting out of the car that took me from the airport to here, I take in the palace, with it's high towers and beautiful architecture. People are outside, forming a pathway for us to walk as they chant different names of other girls who also got selected. I am so out my element here, the dress my mom picked for me was too tight and itchy, the high heel shoes hurt my feet and my hands were sweating too much. "Here it goes!" I say under my breath stepping forward and into the unknown building. The inside even more beautiful than I could describe, high ceilings with crystal chandeliers, gold accents and mahogany furniture, underneath my heels white marble floors.

"Ladies! Welcome, I am Silvia and I'll be you're etiquette advisor and teacher, I'll also be your voice here, anything you need, you ask me and I'll make it happen if it within my powers. You will now be less to yours rooms where you will meet your maids, they will help you with hair, make up and clothes and anything else you might need. Dinner will be served in your rooms tonight and breakfast is at 7 am tomorrow, after breakfast you will each get to talk with the prince and get to know him. I've left some pages on your beds with instructions about tomorrow as well as the schedule of our classes. Good evening going forward!" The tall blonde woman left our sight walking gracefully in her long gown. I wonder if I'll ever be like her? Back so straight, shoulders so strong, hair so put together, make up so natural yet so beautiful, voice so clear, everything about her spoke volumes on everything I was not. I don't know how they expect me to last a day here.

In my room, I stand and wonder how can a place for one person be the size of my home which currently houses 7, now that two of my siblings had moved out. "Lady Y/n!" Two petite women curtesy in front of me, they look like sisters, about the same age as me, but one of them looks a bit older. "Just Y/n" I lick my lips fiddling with my fingers. The older one nods, smiling. "A-and you are?" They seem confused by my question. "Your maids lady!" The other one explains in a sweet voice.

"Yes no, I know, I meant, your names, what are your names?" I ask again hoping I'm not making them uncomfortable. "I'm Jules and she's my older sister Jane, we're very happy and honored to meet you, lady Y/n" I nod, smiling as well, as they start pacing around the room fixing things up. My eyes watch them move, mesmerized by how synchronized they are. "Can you stand and turn around lady Y/n? We have the water running in the tub, so you can take a bath."

I stand and turn so that Jules could undo my dress, then sliding my arms through the silk robe. "Just Y/n please!" I ask again, all these official things making me uncomfortable. "Lady Y/n, if I may-" I open my mouth to correct Jane, but she puts her hand up stopping me. "You are now a lady, his majesty will refer to you as such and you have to keep to these titles, at least until you get to know him better." I nod at her kind advice and follow her into the bathroom, where she helps me step into the tub, taking my robe away and checking the water temperature one last time. "Well relax lady Y/n, when you're ready, call for us and we will get you ready for bed."

Before she leaves me to my own, I dare to ask her one more thing. "Jane, is he nice?" I ask, this being the first time I actually my curiosity about the prince, spiked ever since I was selected. Jane gives me a soft smile, fixing the creases on her apron. "That's for you to decide lady Y/n, but his majesty, prince Austin has always been well liked by the staff." She leaves before I get to asks anything more and I take that as her polite way of saying that's how much she's allowed to say.

The bed here is so much softer than the one at home, the one I uncomfortably share with my twin sisters. The sheets are so soft and silky, it feels like I could turn to fast and fly off the bed. Jules and Jane left shortly after, brushing my hair back and helping me into my silk night gown. Even in this big room, air feels compressed and I want to walk, so I find myself putting on my slippers , taking a moment to look at them, I've never had slippers before. I the dark of the room I make out the location of the door and I turn the knob slowly, trying to make no sound.

I feel a cool breeze brushing my bare legs and I follow it thinking this could be the way to find a door leading outside. Only thing stopping me are the two guards standing in front of it. "Miss are you lost?" One of them asks, making me blush, finally so aware of the fact that I left my room wearing only my thin silky night gown. "N-no, I was wondering how to get to the garden." I say hoping my voice didn't sound too shaky. "No can do miss, you need to get back to your room." The guard tells me, his eyes staring straight ahead. "Please, I, I just need a moment." I beg, taking a step closer and that's when they both move their eyes to look at me, their mean stares making me shiver. "Not allowed, back to your room miss!" The other guard speaks.

Suddenly another set of steps are heard and the guards stand straighter. I don't dare to make a move and look at who it might be. "Your majesty!" They say in unison and the blood freezes in my veins. I've never heard him speak before, his voice sounds so clear, a bit raspy, but still sweet, like warm honey. "Lay her be!"

"Your majesty, we can't-" the guard protests. "I said let her be, open the doors!" They do as he says and I don't wait to walk out, the cold air hitting my warm skin leaving goosebumps. "Stay 5 minutes, then back to your room, if you won't go willingly they have my permission to drag you there." I stop and without turning around I say. "Thank you, your majesty!" My voice sounding like it's under water.

I didn't stay too long after I heard him walk away, running back to my room almost immediately after. Sleep came to me easily after that, but I still felt restless now as Jane brushed my hair into a braid. They put me into a floor length light green dress, with beautiful lace details all around the corset. I looked like a princess this morning when I looked at myself in the mirror and I couldn't believe it and then for just a moment too long I had questioned why I pushed this competition away so vehemently. That last thought however got send back to the depth of my mind and I was now patiently waiting for my turn with the prince, tormented by the wonder of whether he would recognize me from last night or not. 

At last my turn comes and I get up from my seat, fixing my dress as I walk with my head down toward the table where he awaits for me. Sitting down, I still keep my eyes on the ground scared to look at him, feeling my heart thudding against my corset concealed chest. "Y/n? Right? Pleased to meat you, I do hope you're feeling better." His voice comes out first, breaking the silence and making me finally look at him. I had seen him on tv, but the screen did him no justice, the blue in his eyes is so electric, the gold in his hair, is so endearing, my fingers itched with the wish to have a feel at it, his pink lips look so soft and warm. Everything about him is inviting and the way he seats in his chair, leaned back with his legs crossed, his chin in his hand, makes him look so young and careless, which he is, being only 22 and a prince. 

"Yes, your majesty, I'm quite well, thank you!" I blush deeply, my hands clutching the material of my dress in a stupid attempt to calm my nerves. Austin's eyes move to my hands and back to my face, a concerned look painting on his god like face. "Are you all right? Lady Y/n?" He asks, changing his position in the chair, leaning towards me. "If you're not feeling well, I can have for the doctor to come and see you later Lady Y/n." He says in a whisper. The word doctor makes me immediately let go of my dress and smooth down the creases, breathing deeply. "I am fine your majesty, it's all nerves." 

Austin hums and I expect him to go back to his previous sitting position, but he doesn't, he actually leans a bit closer if that were possible. I can now smell his woodsy cologne and a warm fuzzy feeling takes over my body. "You don't need to be nervous, I'm just a boy, just as you are just a girl-".

"But you're not" I find myself rudely interrupting him. "You're going to be king some day and 35 women were randomly chosen to come here and allow you to peruse them. 35 is a strangely small number compared to all the women out there that could be potentially way better for you than any of us."

"Then why come here? Why put your name in the ballot in the first place?" He asks and I can't read if he's been offended by what I said or not. "Your majesty, I apologize!" I look away from him and I can't help but notice that the other girls are all watching us, just like I had watched the previous ones when they were up here. I can only imagine they are analyzing if he likes me better or not. 

"Don't apologize, keep talking, I feel you have a point." Austin urges me and I bite my tongue. "Lady Y/n, my situation is unique, but I have no choice, it does not matter if the love of my life is someone outside these walls, I am not allowed to meet them. So please keep talking!" I feel sad for him, it's clear he's thought the same thing as me, what if his one true love is not one of us, but he's obligated to choose one of us either way. 

"My favorite book, "Withering highlights" the protagonists were not allowed to love each other but they did and the impossibility of being together killed them, had they not ever met, they would've been able to love someone else and live. I think what I said is quite wrong your majesty, maybe neither of us will be the love of your life, but with time you might find someone among us, that you could learn to love and survive." 

Austin opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn't get the chance, since it's announced that our time is up and I must go in order for the next girl to come. I get up breathless and do a very bad curtesy. 

The rest of the day I can't help but feel like I'm sitting on egg shells, I knew I had let my stupid mouth speak before I gave to much thought, but something about him made me feel like I could speak my heart. Jane brushes my hair, as Jules arranges things around the room,  taking the pillows off the bed and putting in place the last things for me to go to bed. 

A knock on my door makes Jane jump as she brushes my hair and Jules goes to open the door. "Your majesty!" I hear Jules say and so I turn to see him, in all his glory, wearing the same dark brown suit from breakfast, only he's discarded the jacket and the tie, a few of the buttons from his shirt being undone and revealing some of his chest, the sleeves are rolled up and this look suits him much better than the previous. Realizing I was just sitting and staring, I quickly get up and curtesy. "Your majesty!" 

"How would you like a stroll out in the gardens, Lady Y/n?" Austin's voice is calm and my ears are ringing, so I barely make out what he's saying, but I nod. "Yes, um Jules, my robe please!" I say, remembering I'm just wearing my night gown, which was very inappropriate. "Lady Y/n!" Austin extends his hand and I walk the few steps over to him, putting my significantly smaller arm around his. 

He takes the lead and walks us out of my room and to the gardens. My thoughts are racing, I'm not stupid I know he could have every advantage right now to try and make an inappropriate move onto me, but he doesn't seem like that kind of guy, but how does that kind of guy look anyway. 

"You're awfully quiet." He says as we walk through the dimly lit gardens. "I was waiting on you your majesty." He stops and turns to look at me. "Why so?" Austin asks blinking. I simply shrug my shoulders. 

He sighs and licks his lips, walking further into the gardens without another word. The whole situation is rather spooky and I can't help the anxiety building up inside me. Soon we get to a table, decorated with candles and flowers, steaming cups of tea resting on it. "I thought we might enjoy some hot tea, it's a bit chilly out." He pulls my chair out for me and I sit down hesitant. 

"Tell me more about you, your favorite book is "Withering highlights", what else do you like?" It takes me a moment to realize that he is being serious I can't stop the giggle that comes out. Confusion is once again shown on his face, but this time is accompanied by something else, the corner of his mouth slightly pointing up, he's amused too. "You really want to know?" 

"Well I must find a wife somehow." The breath gets knocked out of me by his statement, for a split second I had forgotten why I was here, to play in the game of selection. 

"I like to bake and knit, I make clothes for my siblings all the time, but by far my favorite thing is painting, there's something so strange about being able to use my own hands to capture a moment I time li you would a picture." He looks at me as I talk and something in his demeanor tells me he's actually interested. 

"Picture, I, well I don't paint, but I do enjoy photography." He admits, his eyes glimmering with excitement. "Really? And what do you find best to photograph? Objects, humans or nature?" I ask, Austin blushing slightly. "All, I can't say I'm that good, I don't have enough time to dedicate to the hobby, but I enjoy it." 

"I don't believe that you must show me one day, any kind of art is good art. I don't have any of my paintings here, but perhaps if I got the supplies I could paint you something!" I propose, trading the experience of showing off our works of art. "Perhaps one day." Austin says absentmindedly, clearing his throat before getting up. "It's late, I should escort you back to your room!" He says hastily. 

I don't bring up how neither of us even touched the tea or what a short time had passed since we got here, the tea still steaming in the cups. Something about him has changed, he's much colder, stiffer if you may. No more words are exchanged between us, except the good night he rapidly wishes me, before walking away.

I'm left confused and with another feeling stuck in my heart, because for a moment there I actually let myself go and I got happy? Maybe, I don't know. 

Sleep came to me very difficult and when I woke up this morning I had a headache, I didn't want to see or talk to anyone. As Jules is complaining that I had tangled my hair so bad in my sleep another knock is heard and my heart stopped. Is this hope I'm feeling? Hope that is Austin? 

"Lady Y/n, a package for you!" Jane announces. 

I get up taking the note from her hand, looking at the huge box that bigger than her. I open the small envelope and the first thing I notice is the very clean and neat handwriting. 

 <Lady Y/n,

I hope you will forgive me for leaving so hastily as I did last night, but I figured that our encounter wasn't quiet up to etiquette and in fear of damaging you or me, I thought it better continue some other time. Please forgive me and accept this gift, I hope you'll have a painting to show me soon enough

A.B>

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@anonyboo63478338

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[earthherbsandlove]

about me.

call me ani/asteria. | sixteen. (i've been reading/writing fan fiction since seven years old. you don't have to interact if you're uncomfortable and i will do the same.) | biracial (black and white) . | plus size. | she/they/he. | smut writer, mostly. it can vary though. | i truly don't care if you're twelve or if you're in your forties. it's your own media consumption!! | i used to have a tumblr called either stuillyspsychogf or polyghostfaceenthusiast . or something like that lolsies.

fandoms i'll mostly write for:

- scream

- stranger things

- outer banks

- the 100

- dc

- yellowjackets.

- american horror story.

- glee (i will not be writing smut about any of the characters from glee. i just, cannot.)

- new girl (comfort/crack fics.)

- heathers (movie or musical.)

- the selection.

- the wilds

- criminal minds.

this list will probably get longer in the future.

my blog will contain dark material like noncon or dubcon. please know that this is strictly a fantasy and i DO NOT and WILL NEVER stand for actual sexual assault.

i am aware that there is a lot of controversy surrounding minors writing smut and i totally get that. but there is nothing anyone on here can do to really make me want to stop. writing is how i've coped since i was a kid and now i'd just like other people to enjoy my stuff as well.

if you do not feel comfortable with my content, my age, or just my blog in general, that's ok! just please block and don't report.

i will probably make a masterlist when i actually publish fics.

this is all for now!

love, ani<3 .

[imaginedreamwrite]

Unburdened: Part 11

A/N: slight smut in the second half

Soft textured blankets lined the bed, purposefully draped across the mattress to create a dense layer of cushion and warmth. The chosen blankets had been enhanced with soft and light grazing of essential oils and scents that would help ease the formative symptoms of a powerful heat cycle that would set in likely in the early hours of the morning.

Bucky was almost certain to a fault that by the time you woke up, you would be in the beginning thicket of the cycle that would bring both of you together as mates.

He was almost certain, and in his certainty, had come a compulsion to make and create a safe place for you and himself to be together. He intended to create it as a surprise, he had wanted to make you a nest as a sign of good faith that he could be the kind of alpha you needed and deserved. He desired to do everything he could to provide for you as a good alpha should.

He had done what he could, used what materials had been here and what he had brought with him to create this nest. He used your favourite blanket on the base, the first layer of comfort for you to indulge yourself with before he added the next layers. Bucky had found softer pillows in the storage room of the small basement, and after dusting them off and cleaning them, he replaced the firmer ones. He had draped soft and airy cotton sheets above the bed to create the feeling of a cove that you could have crawled into, almost like it was a den. With the roof structured and the walls crafted with the same kind of sheets he had used for the roof, Bucky had found and strung warm fairy lights above the bed to illuminate the cove in a delicate glow.

When he was done, when he finally perfected the nest he had made for you, he departed the bedroom to find you. You had made your desire to go outside and explore the immediate surroundings known, and Bucky had only allowed you to leave when you promised headily that you would stay close and not be long. It was just enough time for Bucky to create the nest and prepare it for you.

“Y/N,” he called your name after stepping outside and taking the few steps down the porch to the front of the cabin, “are you around?”

He heard movement from the right of the cabin, and he could detect the surging growth of your scent as you drew closer. He knew you were approaching your heat, he knew his suspicion and approximation of when it would arrive was right. You would be in the throes of your heat by tomorrow morning, and the start of the cycle would bring you and Bucky together as a mated pair.

“I’m here.” You stepped through the tree line, your fingers moving close to your chest in reply to his question.

Upon seeing you Bucky had physically relaxed and let out the breath he was holding in, the tension in his shoulders relaxing. He had let out a breath of air in a huff watching you carefully as you made your way toward him before you had stopped a foot away. You were facing him head-on, your hands covered in soft gloves and an oversized toque on your head to stave off the chill this morning that had settled over the area.

You had stolen his jacket from the hook just inside the door, wrapping yourself in the thick flannel and fleece that had brought you comfort in more ways than just warmth. You had been scenting his jacket as if it was himself, Bucky could detect the mix of yours and his as it clung to the patterned fabric. His scent was surrounding you. It was clinging to your flesh and it was woven into your hair that was freely hanging down, even beneath the toque. Bucky had found himself incredibly pleased by the idea of his scent coating and covering you like a blanket, draped and integrated into your clothes and hair. It was innate, the way his entire body seemed to preen at the idea of you being his so wholly and completely.

It was instinctual to be pleased by you and his scent becoming one kind of life force. It was instinctual and so was the soft purr that had been building in his chest and throat, the sound simultaneously soft and powerful.

The sound of his purr had caught you off guard. It had made you falter, rendering you unable to do much of anything but blink and breathe as you tried to process what had just happened. He could see you, he could see the wheels in your head turning as you rendered and registered the sound that left his lips, and only after a moment had you been pulled from the daze you were in.

“You purred.” You signed to Bucky, a wide and breathtaking grin forming on your face. “You purred! That’s amazing!”

You had bound toward him, closing what little distance there was, and snaked your arms around his shoulders. You hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek with an excitement that was as addictive as it was influential. Your happiness for Bucky and his soft purring had heightened his happiness for you in a cycle that seemed to repeat itself.

You were happy that he was happy, and it was the most powerful jolt to his entire being as an alpha. That marker of your happiness due to his happiness was incredibly telling about the two of you as a whole.

“You’re cold.” He muttered into your ear, slipping his arms around your waist to steady you and give you a boost of body heat. “You should come inside.”

“My heart,” you pulled back to be able to sign your reply to him, “is coming quick. I get colder-“

“-Before you get hotter.” Bucky had continued for you, stating what he had known to be a fact. “We should go in.”

“It’s beautiful.” Your fingers grazed his chest, continuing your sign language as you described the area around you. “Everything here is so…peaceful.”

“It’s relaxing.” Bucky cupped your cheek, slowly brushing his thumb back and forth against your chilled cheeks. “Are you hungry? You should eat, you need to stock up on your energy.”

“I am a little.” You mouthed and signed simultaneously, working in tangency to communicate. “And in desperate need of hot chocolate. Want some?”

“You should let me make it for you.” Bucky dropped his hand to the small of your back, astutely directing you back toward the cabin’s entrance.

He held the door open for you, letting you pass and then locking the door behind you both. He subtly studied you while you took your boots off and set them aside, and then removed Bucky’s flannel jacket. You hung it on the hook with nimble fingers, and then you looked back at him with a smile on your face.

“Hot chocolate,” Bucky’s lips twitched and were quickly pulled into a half-smile, “with little marshmallows?”

“And cinnamon.” You squeaked after signing, one of the few sounds you could make that Bucky had interpreted as the closest thing to a chirp.

“Wanna help?” he motioned you toward the kitchen with the tilt of his head, letting you pass again.

You had moved past him with such fluidity, such natural ease in the space, it made Bucky think of the dream he had of you and your future. The kind of domestic bliss he never thought he could have had, and here was the beginning of it. It was laid out before him, the foundations of the endearing life he wanted.

Bucky felt it as if it was the beginning of the winding tale, he felt as though he was standing above the written pages of a book studying and searching the pages of his own story.

You were here, and this place would be your future home.

You were with Bucky, and he would be the best damn alpha he could be for you.

Bucky knew he would be a good alpha, he knew he would be a good father and a good mate. He had felt it deep within himself, the promise and the internal vow he made to be everything you needed.

He owed it to himself, and he owed it to you.

“I love it here.” Your fingers moved seamlessly, conveying your message to Bucky while you were busying yourself with steaming milk.

“It’s quiet, it’s perfect.” Bucky stood close to you, watching you with nothing less than pure devotion.

In the coming hours, you would be affected by the thick and potent force of your heat, and your heat would set off his rut.

In the few hours that would come and go between now and the start of your heat, you and Bucky would spend the night talking. You would conform to one another and relax, preparing for the upcoming storm.

Moments had passed, minutes turned to hours and the sun had already begun to set.

After hot chocolate and food, Bucky and you had returned to the living room where you settled yourselves upon the couch.

The rest of the late afternoon and evening was spent in constant contact. You had shifted your position a few times from where you first started when you were sitting next to Bucky before you had settled yourself in his lap and rested your head against his shoulder.

You would ultimately end up draped across the couch with your head resting on his lap, sighing airily when he stroked your hair and purred softly.

“Bucky,” you tapped your fingers against his thigh, your yawns becoming far more frequent, “can we go to bed?”

“Yes, baby,” Bucky muttered softly, his voice bringing you comfort and security. “I made you a nest.”

“You made me a nest?” You sat up and questioned him, your fingers fluttering as you signed your message to him.

“I hope you like it.” He had remained nervous, running his fingers through his hair. “I tried-“

You had bound like a deer from the couch, unexpectedly running up the stairs with a vigour that had surprised him. Bucky himself had been languidly rising to his feet to follow after you, listening to the soft little sounds that you could make, the squeaks that had presented themselves as chirps.

When he had come upon you in the bedroom, Bucky had stood back in order to observe you at the moment that had transcended itself. He didn’t quite find himself as elated with the nest as he had hoped when he first started making it, however, now that he had seen you in the room it had all changed.

Bucky was quick to learn from your scent and the soft squeaks that rolled from your tongue that you hadn’t just appreciated the nest, but you loved it. He could feel your emotional shifts, he could recognize the spike in your scent that was an indication of how pleased you were about it all. There was no doubt that Bucky had done good, that he had made something you appreciated.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You had turned toward him giving him a physical confirmation of your appreciation for what he had done, for taking the initiative and creating something you had fond comfort in.

“Is it good?” Bucky had spoken and signed simultaneously, knowing that his voice as your future alpha was as comforting as it was invigorating.

“It’s perfect.” You had slowly stepped toward him, your fingers fluttering as you formed your message and communicated silently. “You are a good man.”

When you had stepped toward him you rest your hand upon his chest, your palm flush against him to feel his heartbeat against you. Your eyes met his, the freeing exchange of desire, deeply rooted care reflecting back and forth between you two was just another reiteration that you two were good together.

You two were made for each other.

“Come with me.” You moved your lips to the silent words, mouthing your message while signing. “Come sit with me.”

You grabbed his vibranium hand to lead him to the nest he created. You had led him to the bed to push him to the mattress while you had stood before him. He couldn’t have looked away even if he was taking his last breath, he would have had to look at you.

“You are a good alpha,” your message was delivered with your fingers moving delicately close to his chest, “you are everything I’ve ever needed.”

You stepped between his legs, your hands meeting his shoulders before you raised your right hand and stroked his hair at the nape of his neck. Bucky had leaned forward and rested his head against you, inhaling and exhaling slowly to fill his lungs with every note of your scent. He had filled himself with you as you stroked his hair, gently scraping your nails against his scalp in slow circles.

“I promise,” Bucky turned his head to place a slew of soft kisses against your stomach and all that he could reach without moving, “I am going to keep you safe. I’m going to take care of you how you need. I’m going to be a good alpha, I’m going to give us the life we both deserve.”

Bucky had woken before you did to the feel of heat radiating through his plain cotton shirt and the dampness of the top blanket that was quickly becoming a vessel for the first symptoms of your heat. He didn’t dare wake you up before he rolled over and checked the time and pulled himself from bed to get you water.

He had moved as quietly as possible, taking one slow step at a time until he had gotten to the lower level of the cabin. As he touched the bottom, he cast a look over his shoulder waiting to hear any sign of you waking up. With reassurance that you were still sleeping, Bucky had shuffled to the kitchen and opened the fridge to grab a few of the still-sealed bottles of water, tucking them under his arm. When he had closed the fridge again and turned back to face the staircase, he had heard the sound of you waking up to be hit with your heat. The sound of rustling and the creak of the floor as you got off the bed had been what spurred Bucky to head back.

He had taken the steps two at a time until he had come to the landing, and then he had stopped. He could catch the twisted spikes of your heat and the sudden shift from light and airy to intoxicating and mouth-watering. It was your heat and the change it had on your scent that had afflicted Bucky with the powerful punch of his cycle. It had landed straight in his gut, the jab of an omega in heat that he had recognized as his.

His hindbrain, and likely yours as well, were driving you to not just be together but to give in to the other completely.

Bucky’s long strides took him straight into the bedroom where he had seen the discarded blankets and had been hit with the powerful jolt of your heat. It had slammed into him with the force of a brick wall, the contrasting shift was impossible to ignore and Bucky had no sooner thrown the bottles of water to the bed when you had stumbled out of the bathroom.

“Please…” you mouthed the words, hands tugging on one of his shirts you had borrowed. “Bucky. Hurts.”

“I’m here.” He stepped toward you, meeting you halfway and catching you when you stumbled into his arms. “Let’s get you to bed and then I’ll help you.”

He led you back to the mattress and laid you down, his hands running up and down your waist and hips feeling you quake beneath his touch. His fingertips, both flesh and metal, had dipped and curled against your flesh to bring you temporary relief, even though you would be needing more soon.

“Bucky please…” you pleaded again, barely getting the message across due to your shaking fingers. “Please-!”

Bucky had cooed softly, getting on the bed before you with one leg on either side of yours. He had hovered above you, studying you as you clenched your jaw with need and desire, your body flooded with all-powerful heat. Bucky had reached out toward you, resting one hand against your barely clothed left breast while the other hand grabbed and twisted the material of his shirt that you had borrowed.

“I’m going to take care of you.” He promised you, tugging the shirt up your belly to the bottom of your breasts. “I’m going to make you feel good.”

He had dropped his head and placed soft open-mouthed kisses on your flesh, trailing his lips and sequential heat from his flesh lower to your hips and pelvis. His actions were soft, they were rooted with desire and gentility as he tasted your skin and the reactive scent that lingered. There was no rush for him, no need to dive in immediately, not when he wanted to make this experience pleasant for you.

He could feel the draw of your heat on his own body, kickstarting the primordial and preternatural shift from an alpha who was watching his omega settle into her heat, to an alpha who was directly thrown into a rut because of his omegas heat.

And still, despite the rut that was going to start taking control of him, Bucky was not going to rush this moment for you.

“Tongue,” your hand resting against his head, one-handedly communicating with him, “I need to feel your tongue.”

“I know it hurts, I know what you need.” He muttered against the inside of your thighs, using his tongue to help clean and taste the slick that had been pouring from your puffy pussy lips. It was as if he was tasting honey pure and unfiltered upon his tongue, the way that your slick juices that were steadily being produced as a drive to make him sink into your cunt was unhindered.

“Bucky!” You tapped his head, signing his name with one hand as desperation had become you. “Please!”

He ran his hands up and around your thighs before cupping the back of your legs to pull you closer to himself. He had brushed his lips against the inside of your thighs, occasionally nipping at your flesh while his fingers dusted over your puffy pussy lips. He felt you squirming, he felt your desire and although he couldn’t hear the sound of your pleasure, he knew you had felt it. He had felt every surge and pulse between you two, every emotion meeting the other until it was a delirious mess that hovered like fog.

“I need to be sure, it’s not too late to change your mind,” Bucky questioned you again, he wanted the confirmation that would bring him a reiterated assurance that you wanted him as your mate.

“Yes,” you nodded your head, your sign language a stark reminder that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you, “I want this and is want you.”

“I’ll be everything you need,” Bucky mumbled against your thighs, creating and verbalizing a vow before he had even attempted to put his lips on your dripping pussy. “I’ll give you everything you want. I’ll be good for you.”

You brushed your hand down his hair, stealing his attention from his task. You locked eyes with him and smiled through the haze, casting him an irrevocable look of pure unadulterated affection and desire It was your promise in a way. It was your curated vow that you too, old care for Bucky as he had cared for you.

“I love you.” He mumbled against the inside of your thigh, unafraid to let the words fall from his tongue. “I love you, Y/N.”

It was the pivotal moment the two of you had been expecting, when Bucky’s tongue had met your soaked flesh and your hand gripped his hair.

It was what both of you wanted; what you’d both needed.

Permanent Tags List: @jennmurawski13-writes @beardburnsupersoldiers @daydreaminginthechaos @rebekahdawkins @supraveng @bookfrog242 @old-enough-to-know-better73 @valsworldofcreativity @rainbowkisses31 @loveitorleaveit20 @alexakeyloveloki @socalgem1124 @mogaruke @dreamlessinparis @frisky975 @dispatchvampire @hereforbuckyandsteve @jesgisborne @fairybnha3 @hallecarey1 @tang082646 @mrslokibarnesrogers @deputy-videogamer @posionivy0061 @loving-life-my-way @kaylamcd2000 @mercyy98 @undecidedsworld @rootcrop @whatinthestyles @slutforsteve @cornmousequeen @rededfoxy @yagurl-snow @glimmering-darling-dolly @patzammit @buckymydarlingangel @missusbarnes-rogers @andy-is-gay @nervousfandom @rileyloves5 @emi11ie @carelessreadersstuff @readingandwritingandreading @cynic-spirit @inkedaztec @gh0stgurl @mansaaay @cats-and-sheep @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @teambarnes72

[lady-rose-moon]

I love this song so why don't I put it to Loki and Y/N from The Selection?

I have their ending planned out, just the middle bit that I need to figure out 🥰

@mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @holdmytesseract what do you think?

[driverlando]

✧.* THE FAN DIARIES

synopsis- in which nothing escapes the eyes of the devoted (Oscar Piastri x f!reader)

before you continue: I hope you enjoy this new smau series where I delve into stories from fans about the couples throughout the years!! it’s been so fun <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✧.* 2022- boyfriend and girlfriend

✧.* 2023- boyfriend and girlfriend

✧.* 2024-boyfriend and girlfriend

—

✧.* 2026- engaged

Formula 1 Star Oscar Piastri Engaged to Supermodel Y/N Y/L/N? Fans Spot a Ring in Public!

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In the fast-paced world of Formula 1, it’s not unusual for drivers to make headlines both on and off the track. But when it comes to Oscar Piastri, the young McLaren driver known for his cool demeanour and precise driving, the latest buzz isn’t about his lap times—it’s about his love life.

Over the weekend, Piastri was spotted in a casual but intimate moment with none other than international supermodel Y/N Y/L/N, setting the rumour mill ablaze with speculation that the two are secretly engaged. The couple, who have been dating since 2022 and have been notoriously private about their relationship, were seen shopping together at a quaint boutique in Monaco, sparking a flurry of excitement among fans.

The sighting was innocent enough: Oscar and Y/N, both dressed in laid-back summer attire, were browsing through a selection of home goods. Witnesses described them as "completely at ease," sharing laughs as they picked out items for what appeared to be a shared living space. But it wasn’t the domesticity of their outing that caught fans’ attention—it was the sparkling ring adorning Y/N’s left hand.

Eagle-eyed fans quickly took to social media, sharing photos and videos of the couple from the outing. The ring in question, a delicate but undeniably stunning diamond set in a simple band, has led many to believe that the pair might be engaged.

"Did anyone else see that rock on Y/N’s finger?!" one fan tweeted, alongside a blurry but revealing image of the couple holding hands. "Oscar and Y/N engaged?? This is HUGE!"

While neither Oscar nor Y/N have confirmed or denied the engagement rumours, the speculation has only grown stronger. Some fans have pointed out that the couple has been spending more time together in recent months, often seen in each other’s company at high-profile events, as well as more low-key, everyday outings like this one.

"It's not just the ring," another fan commented in a viral TikTok video analysing the couple's body language. "They look so comfortable together, like they've moved past just dating and are really solidifying their relationship. I wouldn't be surprised if they were already planning a wedding!"

Despite their best efforts to keep their romance under wraps, Oscar and Y/N have become one of the most talked-about couples in the world of sports and fashion. The Australian F1 prodigy and the glamorous supermodel have been linked since early 2022, though they've kept their relationship out of the limelight, only occasionally giving fans glimpses into their private lives.

The rumour of their engagement isn’t the first time the pair has sparked speculation. Last December, they were photographed together on a secluded beach getaway in the Maldives, fuelling rumours of a blossoming romance. And earlier this year, Y/N was spotted cheering Oscar on from the McLaren paddock during the Monaco Grand Prix, further solidifying her status as his number one fan.

For now, Oscar and Y/N have remained tight-lipped about the swirling engagement rumours, leaving fans to speculate and hope for a confirmation. But if the ring on Y/N’s finger is anything to go by, it seems the couple might just be ready to take their relationship to the next level.

As the Formula 1 season continues to heat up, so too does the curiosity surrounding one of its rising stars. Whether or not the engagement rumours are true, one thing is certain: all eyes will be on Oscar Piastri and Y/N Y/L/N as they navigate life both on and off the track.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.

—

✧.* 2028 - husband and wife

✧.* 2030- parents

—

[allywthsr]

WRONG PERSON | (l.norris)

summary: you send a sexy video to some tinder guy, until you realize you tapped Lando‘s contact instead, you both help the other to finish what you started

wordcount: 2.4k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: smut!, talking about toys, details about masturbation, phone sex, dirtytalk

notes: inspired by this!!! Tell me what you think, I‘m still scared to write smut, hope you all like this🫣

You were working for Quadrant, it wasn’t like you were some important boss or something, you mostly dealt with customers and sometimes got to plan a video, but Lando still took the time and got to know you. When the whole team went out for dinner, Lando talked to everyone for at least twenty minutes, he wanted to know who was working for him and his brand.

There was no denying you found him handsome, everybody thought he was pretty, but you needed to hide your excitement in your panties whenever he was near you. Not only did he make eye contact every time you two talked, but he also smelled delicious, you wanted to rip his clothes off, the whole time he was near you.

But back to where you were now, laying in bed naked, at almost one am, with your phone in your hand. You were single and desperate, texting with guys from Tinder, who were not worth more than a quick fuck, but you were young and had your needs.

With your phone in one hand, and your left boob in the other, you recorded a small video, where you were squeezing your boob and moaned slightly. You‘ve been snapchatting with a guy you met on Tinder, both of you were horny and needed a release, so why not help each other? You quickly wrote a text to the video, to make it more seducing, ’ You make me so wet…‘ and taped on the slot on Snapchat where he was for the last few snaps, before you could double check that you selected him, you hit sent and threw the phone next to you.

While you waited for his answer, your hand slowly made its way to your pussy, circling your wet clit. With a moan, you teased yourself and kept stopping the sensation in your most private area. When you heard the Snapchat notification tone, you took your phone in your hand and only saw that Lando send you a snap, it wasn’t unusual that he would snap you, you two were streaking after all, but at that time was a little odd, because you were kinda bored and waiting for your guy to reply, you withdraw your fingers from your wet cunt and opened Lando’s snap.

With a gasp, you threw away your phone, the first photo was a normal snap, a picture of his bedroom with some series on Netflix playing, but when you tapped on the screen to exit the snap, a new picture popped up. You could see his hand holding his boxershorts clothed dick, he was hard and big, long and thick. He also wrote a little text, you had to read it twice, making sure your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you, ’was this meant for me, babygirl?‘

You didn’t know what to do, so you did nothing for a few seconds, you didn’t feel horny anymore, suddenly aware of the cold air hitting your still-hot pussy. Should you reply and apologize, saying how you accidentally sent your boss a nude, and look him in the eye at the next dinner? Impossible.

You thought about leaving the country and starting all over again, where no one knew Lando, but that wasn’t a solution either, you had to face him and say that it wasn’t meant for him. But how can you get rid of the image in your head of his dick, the only thing that was roaming through your brain right now was how lucky his future wife would be. With a dick like that, she sure would be happy for the rest of her life.

You excited the snap and took a deep breath, what were you going to say, sorry I send you a nude, but your dick looks nice? No. It took you at least two minutes to think about it and when you took a picture of half your face and started writing a paragraph of apologies, your phone showed you an incoming call.

Lando Norris.

Shit. Your whole body tensed, you couldn’t answer, you just had to pack your things and go, leave London and Lando behind, but something in you didn’t want that, and after what seemed like hours, you did answer the call.

”Hey Lando, look uhm, I‘m sorry I sent you that video, it wasn’t meant for you, obviously. B…But thank you for responding, I mean that picture was nice, but I don’t think that this uhm professionalism between us should be broken. If.. if you want me to leave Quadrant, I‘ll do that.. uhm I’m sorry for sending you that, and I-“

”Y/N, will you stop rambling?“, his voice sounded like he was out of breath, you started shaking when you heard him speak.

”I‘m sorry, for rambling and sending you the video.“

He chuckled, ”Don’t be, maybe you could’ve seen by my response, that I wasn’t mad about it. Sure having your employee suddenly sending you a video where she squeezes her boob and moans, isn’t something I‘d expect, but you have beautiful boobs.“

You didn’t know what to say, so the only thing that came out of your mouth was a: ”Thank you?“, you could hear your heartbeat in your chest, the silence on the other line panicked you.

”But, maybe this is unprofessional of me now, but you left me in a kind of hard situation, Y/N. I bet you’re still wet if your fingers would slide between your legs, aren’t you?“

Your breath hitched, was this for real? Was Lando Norris, your boss, dirty talking to you?

”I..I don’t know, it was a pretty big shock to see you replying, I‘m not as horny as I was ten minutes ago.“

”Then I want you to glide your hand over your boobs and stomach, down to your pussy, I bet it’s pretty, and then tell me how wet you are.“

With a small sigh, you did what he told you, gliding over your boobs and stomach to your pussy, you touched your entrance slightly and felt yourself pulsating, you may not be as horny anymore, but your wetness said otherwise, maybe a part of you already found it hot that Lando actually replied to you.

”Fuck, I‘m so wet Lando.“

You heard a moan from the other line and some sheet rustling, ”Baby, I want you to touch yourself like you would do without me. Finger yourself, rub your clit, do whatever satisfies you. I‘m hard as a rock baby, I need to touch myself too, I wish you were here to do it for me.“

You did as Lando told you, rubbing your clit in circles and feeling yourself come closer to the edge, this whole situation was so hot, it turned you on so badly.

”Please touch yourself, Lando, I wish I was there to help you.“

”I could eat you out until you’re crying and begging me to stop because you would be overstimulated.“

Another moan escaped your mouth and slowly you let your fingers slip into you, which was no problem due to your wetness, but it wasn’t enough, you needed more, thankfully Lando seemed to know what you were thinking when he heard your unsatisfied moans.

”Do you need more baby? Are your fingers not enough, you need my dick to stretch you out?“

You let out whiny and breathy ’yes‘, this situation was so bizarre but hot at the same time.

”Do you have any toys, Y/N? I want you to use a toy on yourself.“

”I..I do.“

”Show me.“

”Can we switch to FaceTime? It’s easier, and I want to see you.“

Lando hummed and muttered a quick goodbye before the screen with the call disappeared, the only thing you could see on your phone now was the picture you took a few minutes ago, and before you could do anything else, the FaceTime call from Lando came in. You answered without thinking about it and you were greeted with a big and girthy dick, and your mouth watered a little. You held the phone up, so he could see your face and your boobs, which he commented with a quiet ’fuck‘.

”Show me your toys, baby.“

You quickly got up and propped the phone against your lamp that stood on the nightstand, while you looked under your bed to fish out the box with your toys. It wasn’t like you were some pornstar and had thousands of toys, but over the years you had collected a fair amount of little helpers.

By now Lando had switched back to his face, so you could see his little beard and his eyes, he kept biting his lower lip, while watching you.

You opened your box and grabbed the first toy you saw, a standard dildo, it was skin-colored and a bit longer and thicker than the normal ones. You showed it to Lando and he groaned, tilting his head back, ”Is that your favorite?“, he asked.

You shook your head and pulled out a pink satisfyer, it was a mixture of a vibrator and dildo, but it also had a clit sucking element. That one was your favorite, you had spent hours with this beauty, and it never left you hanging. ”This is my favorite, you don’t know how good this feels.“

”Tell me about it.“

”It’s so fucking good, Lando. This clit sucking thing? It feels like heaven, it gets me there within a few minutes, the fastest I‘ve ever had an orgasm.“

”I bet I could get you there faster.“

That statement left you with a smirk, only the thought of Lando going down on you, made your head spin, you needed that.

”I can see that you’re imagining it right now, I bet you taste amazing, I would finger you, while lapping at your clit, you would be so full.“

You shut your eyes, and whined, your pussy clenching around nothing.

”What else do you have in there?“

”I have a wand“, you lifted the typical wand and dropped it on the bed, ”I also have a rabbit vibrator, and this“, you lifted another pink vibrator, but this one was smaller.

”You know what this is for, Lando?“

”I‘ve seen it in porn“, he smirked, ”have you ever let someone control it while being somewhere public?“

You nodded, it was a vibrator that you would insert into your pussy and it could be controlled with an app, you‘ve only used it once with someone.

”I was on a date with someone from Tinder, and we‘d been sexting for days and I gave him the app and he controlled it over dinner, it was an experience and I loved it.“

”I want to control it in our next meeting, seeing you tremble over some video ideas is going to be fucking hot.“

Another wave of pleasure rushed through your body, you couldn’t believe you were talking that way with your boss, unbelievable.

”I want you to use that rabbit on you.“

You chuckled, and held the rabbit vibrator into the camera, ”This one?“

Lando nodded eagerly, with a smirk you opened your mouth, dared your tongue out, and licked a long stripe over the part that goes inside of you. After a few licks, you put it fully in your mouth and started sucking it.

You could see how Lando started touching himself again, his eyes closed every now and then and he let out small whimpers. This was your sign that you needed to touch yourself too, so you laid on the bed and flipped the camera to your lower part, where the vibrator was circling your clit. Lando also flipped the camera and you saw his dick that was already leaking pre cum, he moved his thumb over his tip every now and then while moving his cock through his fist, collecting the white fluid. Due to your wetness, the vibrator slipped inside of you with ease, you turned it on and gasped when you felt the vibrations.

”Do you like that? Having your pussy stuffed.“

”Yes, Lando, yes. I need you here next to me.“

”I need you too, wrapped around my cock, you would be screaming and keeping up the neighbors all night.“

With a loud moan, you could feel yourself getting closer to a release, the tip edging your clit made you almost scream and the way you moved the vibrator in and out of you, made you see stars. Lando also was about to cum, he saw that your pussy got wetter and wetter, your fluids squeezing out of your cunt every time the vibrator left it.

”I’m about to cum, Y/N. Show me your face, are you cumming soon?“

You moaned loudly again and flipped the camera, just like Lando did, “Yes, Lando, I wish it was you filling me so well.“

With a loud moan and a lot of curses, Lando spilled his cum all over his hand and stomach, he quickly flipped the camera again, now showing you the mess he created, “That’s all for you, baby, I wish it was inside of you instead on the stomach. Cum for me Y/N, let go.“

While he said those words to you, you felt yourself falling over the edge, with moans and grunts. Lando was sure he never heard something so sexy, those sounds alone made him horny again, he needed to feel you close.

When both of you came down from your highs, you two let out a laugh, realizing what you just did, you had phone sex with your boss, but it felt right and good, and the way his cum sat on his stomach, made you horny again, you needed him.

“You feeling better now?“

“Lando, you’ve no idea, so much better than the weird Tinder guy the video actually was for.“

“I bet, but I still need you, Y/N.“

“Are you in London?“

He hummed.

“Well, my bed is cold without you in it, if you want, my pussy is ready for you, Lando.“

“Send me your address, I’ll be over in ten minutes, you better not start without me, or you’ll get punished.“

Part two

taglist: @millinorrizz @jamieeboulos @loxbbg

[annwrites]

sons & daughters. part two.

— pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you spend a day in winterfell's library, until someone comes looking for you.

— tw: eating

— word count: 2,839

When you wake the next morn, it's to feeling well-rested. You feel so comfortable, in fact, that you have half-a-mind to stay in bed all day, beneath furs and blankets, soft feather pillows resting beneath your head, a warm fire burning—at some point in the night, servants must have snuck in to rebuild it, for elsewise it would be mere embers by now—but know you cannot. Even if Jace is the important one in all this.

You...are merely here to sight-see and stay out of the way.

After Alia—the servant from the night previous—has helped you ready for the day, she then brings you bacon, soft-boiled eggs, honeyed bread with jam, sharp white cheese, and coffee to break your fast.

As you eat, you enjoy the silence. No loud, crashing waves breaking against the base of the castle like at Dragonstone, and no sounds of a sleepless city like that of King's Landing—children screaming, horses whinnying, and criers shouting in the streets.

Winterfell—no, the North, it seems—is...peace. Tranquility. Strength.

Being here... You feel as if you've finally found something you hadn't even known you'd been looking for all your life: a sense of home.

You take another bite of your boiled egg, shaking your head, knowing you cannot grow used to it. It will not last. Before long, you will be perched upon Vermax once again, heading back to Dragonstone, never to return to these lands. As if you want to return there, either.

You think of your mother giving you her blessing for...that, before you and Jace had climbed upon his dragon, ready to depart.

For once, you think her foolish.

No man—certainly not a hardened one of the North—would ever take you to wife for love. No, it's your name that prospects lust after. Even if it, too, is half a lie. They do not want you; just what you can give them.

You wonder where you truly belong then, if anywhere.

Sometimes, you feel so alone in the world.

But here, you just...feel. Quiet. Restful.

And a world away, but finally where you belong.

You bundle yourself in tights beneath your dress once again, with the thickest pair of socks you own donning your feet, boots slipped over them, and gloves on your dainty hands. You then slip on your cloak, desperately wishing it was fur-lined like everyone else's here.

Eventually, you may need to make a small trip into the nearest market town to stock up on winter wear.

Once you deem yourself as ready as you are able to be for the brisk day, you emerge from the castle, clasping your hidden hands nervously once again as you wander around unfamiliar grounds.

You watch as a servant goes by with a small stack of books in her arms and then glance to the tower behind her, most assured that it must be Winterfell's library.

The perfect place for you to spend your day, then, entirely out of the way of your brother's and Lord Stark's political dealings.

Thankfully, there are two small hearths in the library, along with a selection of fine blankets to keep you warm, and a nearby tea tray, piled high with various treats, as well as pitchers of juice, and a silver tea pot to keep your hunger at-bay.

Before long, you are forced to remove a few layers to cool yourself—opting to also seat yourself upon a cushioned window-seat, after kicking off your boots and placing them near you on the floor, so you might feel even a slight, cooling draft as you watch people mill about in the yard while you peruse a selection of novels and books of beautiful artwork, depicting northern kings of old.

You rest your head back against the wooden wall behind you and wonder what Winterfell might look like if Torrhen had not bent the knee to your great, great, great, great grandsire.

So long ago now, and yet it feels so very recent.

Here you and your brother are, after all, asking for aid from the very people your own forebear had subjugated.

You wonder what Lord Stark must think of it. To only be acknowledged—called upon—when it is his strength, his men, his swords and means that another suddenly desires. You're sure he is, otherwise, content to be left alone, away from Southron dealings and schemes.

You sigh, envying him in some ways, but not others.

Envying him his home, his customs, his proud heritage—this place—but not the burden thrust upon him at so young an age.

You are glad for Jacaerys. For your brothers in general. For you cannot imagine the heavy weight of a crown being placed upon your head.

You feel your mother has, thus far, bore it well—stayed her hand, as opposed to plunging the kingdom into war and dragonfire at first opportunity—but you know a dark future looms close if amicable resolve is not soon reached.

Daemon thirsts for bloodshed, using Aegon's usurpation as excuse to enact such violent measures, when you know it has little to do with what the Greens 'stole' from your mother, and instead to do more with his own pride. They took an opportunity from him: an opportunity to mayhaps be Hand of the Queen, or, at the very least, a valued member of her Small Council.

Perhaps Master of War.

You are glad your grandsire disinherited him as heir. That he'd had the foresight to see what sort of ruler he might've been.

You tuck your blanket more tightly around yourself, gladder still to be far from him. Far from all of it.

Your eyes flutter closed—for just a moment you tell yourself—as you allow yourself to pretend that this place could be your home and you not a princess at all, but instead...whomever you wish to be. And that all is well and right in the world, as it had once been not but a few days ago.

Heavy boots thump against wooden stairs, a fur cloak shifts, and eyes the color of a darkening winter sky scan the cramped confines of the Winterfell library, searching.

A broad form weaves through towering bookcases, the smell of parchment, leather, and charcoal greeting his senses.

And, as he rounds a corner, he finally discovers the object of his hunt.

He comes nearer, his prowling steps now quiet to avoid waking you as he peers down at you from beneath a now-unfurrowing brow, his form relaxing as he sees that you are perfectly safe.

He'd had half-a-mind to send out a search party if he and your brother had been unable to find you.

But here you sit, leaned back against the wall, head resting against the window to your side, eyes closed, and your pink lips slightly parted as you take in slow, steady breaths while you dream.

And for the first time in a long, long while, he thinks himself foolish. Because he wishes to know what about, exactly. A handsome lord of the south mayhaps, or, perhaps, a gallant knight whose only fighting experience is that of celebratory tourneys.

He reaches down, gently tucking a lock of hair behind your dainty ear, then running his callused fingertips along your soft, flushed cheek.

He cannot remember the last time he's been so taken with a woman. Not since his late Lady Wife, he is sure.

He still misses her dearly some days. On others, the pain of her loss is easier to bear. He supposes that marrying for love only served to contribute to that pain. And while his son is his heart, he sees her in him, and it oftentimes only serves to make carrying the burden of her sudden passing that much more difficult.

She is in Rickon's smile, his laugh, even his eyes.

He deigns that he shall visit her in the crypts tomorrow morn.

Finally, he seats himself beside you, near your feet, and he leans back against the window behind him, rolling his head to the side to continue gazing upon you.

He wonders why it is here that you chose to sequester yourself away for the day.

He'd asked after you while with Jace, but your twin had stated that you preferred to spend your time alone; that you did not do well with strangers. That he was sure you were fine.

He now worries that you find him too intimidating.

He means to be, certainly. He rules his lands with an iron fist. Would not rule them at all unless he did, considering his uncle's reluctance to relinquish power once he finally came-of-age, and his hand thus being forced when he finally took what was rightfully his from Bennard's clutches.

But he is also fair.

And he can be gentle. When the time calls for it. Even if now is not it. But for you...mayhaps he can make an exception.

Given that he finds you deserving of his more forgiving side, that is. Jace, he thus far, enjoys the company of, at least.

You, he is still trying to gather a reading of. You seem polite enough, shy clearly, and also seem to posses humility. But he knows how sweet a serpent's venom can taste when being fed by a comely young face with a honeyed tongue.

Though, he does not in his heart of hearts truly think you that sort of girl—rather, woman.

He only wishes to spend more time at your side to find out for himself exactly who you are.

He leans toward you, his large hand enveloping the slender crown of your shoulder as he begins to gently shake you awake. "Princess."

Your brows furrow and you stir for only a moment before resuming your peaceful slumber.

He tries again. "Y/N, it is time to wake."

You slowly blink your eyes open, looking around confusedly under hooded lids before your eyes meet his own. "Where—"

"You fell asleep, Princess. It is nearly time for supper."

You suddenly sit up straighter then, heart jumping. You...you'd been here all day? Had slept it away? Gods be good. Now he must think you incredibly lazy.

You can't do anything right, can you?

You hide yourself away to prevent yourself from interrupting he and Jace, and still you managed to do it in error.

"I...forgive me, My Lord. I..." You trail off, looking for an excuse.

"Why did you not join us, Y/N?"

Your eyes meet his then. "I—what?"

His lip twitches at your unsurety of yourself. A far cry from the woman his advisors had been speaking to him of just this morn before breaking his fast, encouraging him into a betrothal with her. One of House Blackwood, with a bawdy tongue and a fierce disposition.

"Jacaerys and I. We had a full day together, discussing future plans if war comes to pass, while exploring Winterfell's grounds. I had looked for you, but you were not to be found. Did you hide yourself away from me here, then?"

Your eyes grow wide. Oh no. Now he thinks you mislike him.

You shake your head. "No. I just...I did not wish to be an impediment, My Lord—Cregan. So I stayed here."

He frowns. You think yourself a burden, clearly. He wishes desperately to see what you are like amongst those you are more comfortable with. Wishes to hear your laugh, to see your smile.

"You do not intend to stay hidden all the while you are here, do you, Y/N?"

You nervously clasp your hands in your lap. "No. I'm sure I will explore on my own eventually. You needn't worry about me."

He studies you for a moment and you merely blink at him in return, waiting for him to speak next.

"Are you hungry, then?" He asks with a raised brow.

You nod, smiling softly.

He stands, towering over you. "Then let us feast."

You slip the blanket from your lap, flushing fiercely when you notice that your gown has ridden all the way up to your thighs beneath it.

You quickly shove it back down, refusing to meet his eyes as you then pull on your boots and slip on your cloak before standing.

You go to leave, until he takes your hand in his, wrapping it round his arm as he leads you both out, his palm resting atop your own all the while.

When you sit to dine, Cregan motions for you to seat yourself next to him, to which you silently oblige.

You truly appreciate him trying to be genial toward you, but you know it is all out of lordly hospitality. That it is due to your title, not you.

Never you.

You remain quiet as always as he and Jace discuss their explorations of the day, listening with interest, so as to give yourself ideas of places to see by yourself tomorrow.

Even if Jace's continual looks are beginning to grate on your nerves. Had something set him off today?

You sip your soup, then take a small bite of bread, only then noticing that Jace is glaring at you, yet again, over his meat pie.

“What?” You ask, annoyed.

Cregan glances to you, surprised by your fiery tone.

“You couldn’t have left a note on your bed, or upon mine—”

You roll your eyes, sighing. Gods forbid you explore the library without a royal escort. “I was in the library, not taking a trip to the Wall. I hadn’t even thought a note necessary." A smug smile then crawls onto your face. "How are you to one day be king if you cannot even look after me?”

He kicks you under the table then. 

You swing your leg back, doing the same and he shouts. “Ouch, that hurt!”

You shrug. “I didn’t feel a thing.”

He plants his palms flat atop the trestle table. “Do it again and I’ll feed you to Vermax.”

You raise a brow, ready to swing your leg back yet again, until Cregan begins to laugh lightly to himself. 

You both turn your heads in his direction, and he waves his hand just once. “Forgive me, My Prince.” He nods toward you. “Princess. I just can’t help but think how much you remind me of my late younger brother, Jace.”

You smile softly and Jace’s shoulders relax then. At least he had not been offended by your sudden displays of anger...

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say quietly. And you truly mean it. You cannot imagine losing any of your brothers. Not a one.

If you did, especially to war...for the first time in all your life, you wish for a dragon of your very own. Then again, if you had one, whomever took them from you would not be safe. No one would, as such terrible grief overtook you.

Cregan looks at you then, his gaze softening as his thigh presses up against your own. “Thank you, Princess. It was a long time ago, now. I’d like to think, if he had been given a chance to grow into a man, he would be much like your older brother," he says, nodding toward Jace.

Jacaerys smiles at that. “Will you tell us about him, then?”

Cregan nods and throws himself into tales of brotherly love and camaraderie, which you listen to with a warm smile.

Once you have supped, you and Jace head off to bed, even if you do not feel tired—you blame your midday nap (perhaps a bit longer than a nap) for your lack of exhaustion. At least tonight you did not nearly fall over face-first into a bowl of desert.

You bid your brother goodnight after he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You refrain from stomping on one of his feet in return after his comment at dinner about making you dinner for his dragon, only because you know Lord Cregan is watching.

When you turn round, you give him a small smile and a slight bow of your head. "Goodnight, Lord—"

"Will you join me in the crypts on the morrow, after breaking our fast?"

You blink in surprise. "I—yes, I can. Are...are you certain?" You imagine it a private and sacred place where outsiders are not entirely welcome.

He nods. "I am."

"I will see you, then, in the morn," you say quietly.

He steps closer to you, forcing you to lean your head back to meet his eyes.

He seems to consider you for a moment, as if debating something internally, before he brushes a soft kiss over your forehead. "I shall see you then."

You watch as he steps into his room, softly shutting the door behind him, while your heart pounds in your chest, and blood rushes to your cheeks, warming them.

That had been most...unexpected.

You enter your own room then, pressing your back against the door, knowing sleep will not find you anytime soon this evening.

[sarahisslytherin]

•❣•୨୧ 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 ୨୧•❣•

benedict bridgerton x princess!reader

summary: benedict has always been against marriage, but when he meets the princess one fateful night he can't help but fall in love.

contains: fluff and a lot of flirty banter.

a/n: another series cos it was just too much for a oneshot! this was so fun to write i just adore him. to the anon who requested this, i hope you love it and all its upcoming parts!

word count: 1.2k

You feel a heavy gaze on you as you glide across the ballroom. The chandelier above you twinkles with a warm glow, the light catching in your hair as you’re spun around by this suitor and that. The king has tired of begging you to select one for yourself and has threatened on more than one occasion to marry you off to the next prince to set foot in the palace. You know he doesn’t mean it, but you also know it is your duty to carry on the royal bloodline. Your father is right. You must choose. But certainly not this young man dancing with you. No, he’s far too boring. Not unsightly by any means, but he doesn’t make your stomach flip, doesn’t make you giggle as if possessed by an unearthly amount of joy. Still, you feel the eyes of another on you.

Benedict Bridgerton has long been a firm believer of marrying only when absolutely, undeniably in mad love. He hasn’t found that, not yet. That is why when his sisters begged him to accompany them to the royal ball he only agreed under the condition that they leave him free to speak to all the lovely women attending. Perhaps he might be able to take one home tonight and part ways come morning. That had been his original plan, anyway, which lay discarded from this very moment on; the moment he laid eyes on you.

Your current dance partner bows before you as the song comes to a close. He gives you a playful smirk before leaving you, and you resist the urge to laugh. You sigh, exhausted. You’ve got half a mind to find your father, tell him you’re not feeling well and retire to your bedroom for the remainder of the night. You’re grasping at the ruffles of your gown to turn and leave when he appears before you. He has a boyish grin fit to make the most reserved of women melt, and his ocean eyes glimmer like moonlight on waves. “May I have this dance, Your Highness?” You couldn’t say no if you tried.

It’s a different ballroom tonight, but you feel yourself searching faces in the crowd, hoping you might catch a glimpse of that handsome stranger you danced with only a fortnight ago. It was no simple feat escaping the palace. You struggled to squeeze into your gown on your own, but couldn’t risk any of your ladies in waiting knowing about your little disappearing act. You slipped on a cloak and placed a mask over your face. You followed an emergency tunnel beneath the palace grounds until you finally found yourself beneath the pale glow of moonlight. You knew it was mad, but you simply had to see him. He consumed your dreams, and when you were awake, your daydreams. He had been whisked away too soon by his family. You couldn’t even get his name, only his surname: Bridgerton. They have always been a respected household, and at tonight’s masquerade ball you can only hope to encounter them.

Music fills the halls of the Featheringtons’ estate, but the plucking of strings and sweet melody of the violins does little to soothe your nerves. You resolve to distract yourself from your anxious mind and seek out a dance partner. They’re playing a lively song, one that makes you laugh giddily as you hop to the rhythm. You’re so overjoyed, you almost forget all about that Bridgerton lad and his blasted piercing blue eyes. That is, of course, until you step aside to catch your breath and are met with them for the very first time since the night of the royal ball. 

“So we meet again, Princess.” he teases, and your eyes go wide. 

“How did you recognize me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“The same way you recognized me, of course.” he smirks, almost as if he weren’t speaking with royalty. “I would know those sweet eyes anywhere.”

“You’ve got quite the silver tongue, haven’t you, sir?” you smile, your cheeks taking on a faint blush as you fan yourself coyly.

“So I’ve been told.” he replies cockily. He gets closer to you; simultaneously too close for comfort yet not close enough. You’re not sure what to make of this man who makes your heart pound in your chest like no other has ever done before. This man whose name you do not even know.

“Tell me,” you demand in the tone you have grown accustomed to using to get what you want, “what is your name?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” he giggles like a mischievous schoolboy, and you’d be lying if you said you don’t find it endearing. 

“You know mine.” you retort. “The entire kingdom knows it.”

He feigns shock, clutching his heart and letting his jaw drop. “Why, aren’t we full of ourselves?” You laugh, your eyes crinkling behind your lace mask. 

“I know one of us certainly is.” you tease him back, and he loves every second of it.

“Princess?” he asks, but is quickly hushed by you.

“Lower your voice, do you wish for the entire ballroom to know of my presence here?” you urge him.

“Forgive me, Pri-” he begins once again, but you give him a playful shove your father would have undoubtedly reprimanded you for, seeing as it isn’t very ladylike. “Forgive me, my lady.”

“Much better.” you smirk, satisfied with yourself. “You are forgiven, my lord.”

“Now you tell me.” he says. “What is a lady like yourself doing at a ball like this? Surely you’ve been to better ones.”

You’re suddenly thankful for the white mask hiding your bashful expression from him. “You’re right, I have. But, you see, I was hoping to run into someone.”

He replies with a playful, “Oh?”. You can tell he is clearly intrigued by the information you’ve provided him. “What a coincidence. I was hoping for the same, though I must admit, never in my wildest dreams did I think my hopes would come true.”

“Well”, you go on, “I dare say they have.”

Suddenly, his eyes change and all playfulness is replaced with earnestness and solemnity. He lowers his voice down to a baritone only you can hear. “Princess, you truly must know you have haunted the chambers of my mind since the moment I laid eyes upon you. I may not be royalty, but I have other virtues you will discover if you only allow me. I can love you like no suitor or prince has done so before. Say the word, my lady, and I am yours.”

You’re a bit taken aback by his sudden outburst, but you can tell by his eyes, those gentle eyes, that he means every word he utters. And his words couldn’t have described your own feelings any better. “You’re quite the poet.” you grin. “But how can you be mine if I don’t even know your name?”

He laughs once again, and the tension is lifted. “Benedict Bridgerton, my lady.”

You extend your hand to him and his lips ghost your knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bridgerton.” 

“The pleasure is all mine.” Benedict beams, rising once again. “and I’m hoping the next dance will be, as well?”

“Of course.” you nod, a glint in your eye only Benedict can catch. “I’m all yours.”

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl @enchantedbytomandhenry @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @dd122004dd @marvelspogue

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, betrayal, mean!Bucky,

Part 2

Hi! This kinda came outta nowhere lmao. Apologies for the angst, I just needed to do an angsty/sad fic cos I'm in my feels. As always, I appreciate your comments and reblogs. This is a two part series (standalone, not linked to any of my other fics, not the same characters as in Sweet and Sour) second part coming soon...

Wordcount: 3.7k

💔

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me, Doll. After everything we’ve been through? Was it all a lie?”

“Don’t deny it! That’s your voice on the recording! Banner proved your phone was there, it pinged there – we’ve got the proof. Even now you’re lying, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You had read about people being too stunned to move or speak, but you always thought it was a little embellished for dramatic effect in books. Surely, you could just push through? Surely shock did not have such a profound effect on your body that it rendered you temporarily paralysed and mute?

But you had calmly walked down the stairs towards the lobby of the house twenty minutes ago and hadn’t moved since. You just stood there now, rigid and dumbfounded, trying to understand how your entire world had just collapsed around you mere minutes beforehand. Now, you got the ‘stunned’ thing. You understood.

The aftershocks of Bucky yelling at you echoed around your head. What had just happened? You’d been sleeping peacefully just before he stormed in your shared bedroom, roaring at you before your eyes had even opened. You’d never seen him like that before. This wasn’t your Bucky, this was work Bucky. The one he’d always worked so hard to keep you from.

Why wouldn’t he listen? What did he mean, the recording? The phone ping? Your skull ached as you tried to make sense of it all. You would never do a thing like that to him. You loved him. You’d die before you purposefully tried to hurt him. Why didn’t he understand that?

You briefly considered going back upstairs, finding him wherever he was in the labyrinth of this house and straightening this whole mess out. Telling him you loved him, and he had to listen. Taking him in your arms, kissing him softly.

But the memory of the look in his eyes, the sheer rage they contained, the hatred that lay there, stopped you.

There was nothing to go back for.

You managed to pull yourself from your paralysis and move towards the hall closet near the front door. Well, it was more like a small room than a closet. An overflow from the walk-in closet just off the master bedroom upstairs. A huge space packed with a selection of Bucky’s jackets and shoes. He liked keeping some of them downstairs, getting the staff to rotate them when he wanted a change. Some of your things sat in there too - a few high-end coats, beautiful shoes. 

Correction, past tense - they were yours. Not now. 

“You’re a liar! You lied to me…Bet you loved spending my money too, didn’t you? Laughing all the way to bank as you sucked me dry…”

You screwed up your face as the memory of his voice flooded you. He was just so angry…he just wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t believe you…

You pushed it all aside and opened the closet door, darting and shuffling through the combined thousands of dollars at your fingertips - the Dior, the Gucci, the Prada. You knew it was in here somewhere.

Then you spotted a flash of red behind one of the shoe racks in the far corner. There she was. 

You moved towards it, grabbing at the red fabric and tugging. It squeezed past the luxury shoes and revealed itself as you pulled it toward you - your faithful red backpack.

A relic of your former self.

No designer labels here, just a bag that had followed you throughout your life - high school, college before you’d dropped out, various apartment moves and vacations. The once-bright crimson colour had faded over time, but it was still sturdy and strong, still TARDIS-like in how much you could pack inside. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the closet against the glamour and opulence. 

You knew how that felt.

You unzipped it and dug through the contents. A pair of jeans, a sweater, a couple of T-shirts and your beaten-up old sneakers. Some pairs of underwear and bras. A few other simple garments. All polyblends and cheap textiles. No fancy labels to be found. No fine silks or luxe fabrics that Bucky had liked to spoil you with. 

This backpack was all you had to your name when you’d moved in here. Funny how life went in circles, because once again it was all you had now.

At the time Bucky had taken it from you and insisted you throw it away - you wouldn’t need it! He’d buy you a whole walk-in closet full of clothes! 

And he did. 

A dizzying amount. More than you could ever wear. A mix of designer labels and custom pieces that fit you perfectly. Fine tailoring and exquisite details. Dresses. Blouses. Pants. Jeans. Organic cotton t-shirts. Skirts of every length. Winter coats that had cost the same as two months of your rent in the city. Underwear sets so pretty and delicate that you were almost too nervous to wear them. 

And accessories, too. Handbags. Jewellery. Shoes. Oh, the shoes. Heels, flats, boots, sandals, sneakers and slippers. Shoes for fancy parties and shoes for hikes. Shoes for the grand vacations. Shoes for just lounging around the house. Shoes you only wore for sex.

All gone, in an instant.

It didn’t matter, anyway. You always told him you didn’t need any of it. And you weren’t lying. You’d never lied to him, despite what he believed now. You were always happiest in sweats and loungewear, you just liked being comfortable and yourself. You just liked being near him.

At the time you’d talked him round about letting you keeping the backpack - nostalgia, you know? You’d had it years, after all.

But he didn’t think you needed it. That was then, this was now. Why keep an old bag when you could get anything you’d ever want? He’d buy you a hundred backpacks, he said, he’d get your initials embroidered, he’d let you design your own, he’d have your favourite designer make you one - especially for you.

But that wouldn’t be your bag. The bag that had seen everything. Your constant companion. 

You persisted. What was one little backpack in a big old house like his? It would take up no space at all. He wouldn’t even know it was there.

He relented eventually, he’d always loved how down to earth and low-key you were. He was fond of your sentimentality. You’d never been interested in his money; you’d kept the love notes he wrote you - not the shopping receipts - but he still liked to spoil you. You deserved it. 

Or so he’d told you then. But it was a different story today. 

The bag had been hastily stashed here in the closet the first day you moved in and had been there ever since, languishing amongst the Italian tailoring. 

Until now.

Part of you wondered if deep down you had always known this day would come. Maybe your gut had sensed it was all too good to be true, and you knew you needed to store a parachute for the inevitable fall. 

You sniffed, wiping away the threat of more tears. There would be time for that later. 

You looked down at the slip you wore, the slinky, silly nightie thing he’d bought you that you’d worn to bed. Not very practical now you’d be out on the street. 

Your brain suddenly switched into survival mode, most likely in an attempt to stop yourself from falling apart, but you couldn’t think about it all now. You needed to find somewhere to stay. And you couldn’t do that in a silk nightdress. 

You quickly shrugged the gown off, leaving it in a tangled pool on the floor of the closet and mentally apologising to Martha who would have to pick it up tomorrow. You grabbed the backpack and pulled on the jeans, a bra, one of the tees and the sweater. You rolled the Dollar Tree socks onto your feet. Kicked on the sneakers. It was all a little musty from being folded up in the bag for so long. But it would do. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the closet mirror and gasped. Aside from the wild eyes and tear-stained face, you looked like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a long time. Another life.

Hello again.

Next: where to go. The obvious places were Wanda’s or Nat’s homes. And you’d go there. Either would work. Either would welcome you with open arms, being the true friends that they were. Bucky’s betrayal had made you question everything you knew about love, but not the faith in your friends to catch you when you fall. That was unshakeable. 

Maybe you could alternate who you stayed with until you got back on your feet, so you weren’t too much of a burden to either. You just couldn’t face either of them tonight, you needed to be alone. 

You frantically rummaged through the backpack again until you found what you were looking for at the very bottom. You let out a little yelp of relief.

The battered old wallet had seen better days, but it was hanging on. You opened it up and breathed a sigh of relief that you’d never transferred your driver’s license into the Gucci wallet Bucky had given you on that first day. Thanks, lazy past self. It wasn’t like you’d driven much anyway, not with his all drivers on the payroll and the Uber account he’d loaded onto your phone. 

The wallet also contained debit and credit cards you’d never cancelled but hadn’t touched since Bucky gave you your very own black card. It was funny how you used to obsessively count every penny and now you could charge whatever you wanted without a second thought.

Not now, then, you corrected. You needed to get used to your life with Bucky being referred to in the past tense.

“You were working with the feds this whole time, Doll? Is that it? You were all laughing at me? Laughing at how easy it was to let you in? The cute little waitress doing her ‘oh shucks!’ routine, catching me hook, line and sinker?? God I’m such a fucking idiot…”

You stifled a sob, but continued hunting through the wallet.

You thought about your purse sitting out on the side table by the front door. You could take that with you and charge a hotel room it. He probably wouldn’t even notice such a small charge amongst his wealth, and even if he did, he wouldn’t begrudge you a few bucks for a roof over your head for one night. Would he?

No. Enough. 

He had ended it. He had implied you were a leech. He didn’t listen, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t believe you. If he truly thought you’d done what he said…he couldn’t ever have loved you. Not really. 

No more spending his money, even though you never really felt comfortable doing so anyway. The showdown tonight had confirmed your biggest fears - he’d always resented you for spending his cash. You couldn’t live like that anymore. 

Besides, you didn’t want him to know where you were. Not that you thought he’d come after you…but still. 

Fortunately, the wallet had a ream of stale bills stuffed in one of the sections. You exclaimed in excitement; you remembered them now. It had been your last day at your waitress job. You’d quit right before you came over to this place to move in, and Lou had given you the rest of the week’s pay plus tips. You had fought him on it, insisting you didn’t need it - but Lou had asked you to take it. For his sake.

“I want you to be happy, hon’,” he’d told you kindly when you had shared your plans. “And I know you’re a smart girl. But you’re getting mixed up with…a different kinda world. A…different kind of guy. You never know when this might come in handy”.

You’d frowned at him at the time, not quite sure what he meant. But as you stood there in the closet clutching the cash, you sent him a silent thank-you for his foresight. God bless Lou. He was exactly right.

You shoved the money and the wallet back into the red bag and moved from the closet into the hallway. The house was completely silent. If Bucky knew you hadn’t left yet, he’d made no effort to stop you. You admitted that a tiny part of yourself had hoped he’d come after you and admit he’d made a terrible mistake.

But he wasn’t coming. 

You slung the backpack over your shoulder as you headed to the front door. As your hand curled around the handle, you turned and took one last look at what had been your first real home. What you’d hoped would be your last home. 

You looked over at your phone which you’d tossed onto the dresser next to the closet in your panic. You briefly pondered taking it, but it wasn’t yours anymore. You’d buy a burner in the morning and get a new cell plan once you were back on your feet. 

Wow. You were surprising yourself with this pragmatism. But you also knew you were hanging on by a thread.

But the fact was - you’d survived before Bucky, and you’d survive after him, too. You always kept going. You’d been dirt poor before, you could do it again. You’d been alone before, too. You’d been alone most of your life. 

You could do it again.

‘Tenacious’ - that’s what Nat had called you once. You weren’t sure if you agreed with her at the time, but now you wanted to prove her right. You wanted to be the person she believed you to be. 

You already knew it would be much harder now, as you’d had a taste of the other side. How the other half live, as they say. Before, you didn’t know any different - you didn’t know what you were missing. Now you absolutely did. Not just the money…the comfort…but being cared for, being loved. 

On some level, you’d always known this wasn’t going to be your happy ending. You knew deep down that the house of cards would eventually fall, because it always did. 

You just wished you weren’t always right. 

You opened the door and stepped out into the dark.

💔

You walked for thirty minutes towards the city. Bucky lived on the outskirts and most of the journey had been leaving his estate along the single, winding road that led up to his property. None of his men paid you any mind. Not the ones with guns pitched up along the perimeter. Not those waiting in cars half a mile from his house, keeping an eye out for any potential threats as they did every night. They all knew who you were, so word must’ve spread fast. Otherwise they would’ve been falling over themselves to check on you and find out why the boss’ girl was out walking by herself at this time. 

You wondered if Steve or Sam had put a message out on the comms. ‘They’re over. Don’t worry about her anymore’ or words to that effect. Something cold but concise. That’s how this operation worked. 

You’d developed friendships with some of these men. Chatted to them and even brought them coffee when they kept watch on cold nights. You would watch then from the windows and tell Bucky you were worried about how freezing it was out there, and he’d laugh it off and say it was part of their job and they were fine. But they were always grateful when you came out with a thermos, always told you how much it meant to them. 

All of it forgotten in an instant, you were disposable as anything else in Bucky’s empire. You understood that now. Just like when he wanted a new car or a new watch, he’d toss away the old model - then find himself something newer and shinier. 

You walked a little further as signs of civilisation starting to appear and Bucky’s acres of land disappeared behind you. A gas station. A boarded-up strip mall. You were a little frightened walking alone by yourself, but the sheer adrenaline your situation propelled you forward. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you eventually found a tired-looking Holiday Inn up ahead. A few of the lightbulbs on the neon sign were out, meaning it spelled out H LIDAY INN. A leaky drainpipe dripped a steady stream of water over the entrance. Oh dear. 

But it would do for now. 

You took a deep breath as you went inside and checked in at the front desk, paying for a basic room with your waitress cash. The disinterested receptionist gave you the key card and sighed with boredom, barely looking at you as she barked the directions to your room and resumed Candy Crush on her phone. She didn’t seem surprised to see a lone woman turning up in the middle of the night, arriving to a roadside hotel on foot, paying for two nights in crumpled bills. She didn’t even ask to see your ID. That all gave you a pretty clear idea of what the staff were used to here.

You passed an ancient-looking PC that guests could use, which surprisingly, as it looked like it was last updated for Windows 95, had WiFi. You made a mental note to log on tomorrow to message Wanda and Nat on social media and fill them in …and hopefully get one of them to come pick you up. 

You grabbed some chips and soda from the vending machines then walked towards the elevators. Not quite the glamorous dinner you’d become accustomed too, but it would do. For now.

You hit the button to call the elevator as you slumped against the wall, the exertion of your long walk and the evening finally catching up with you. The elevator creaked and spluttered but it finally got you to your floor. 

You scanned your keycard and swung the room door open, dumping your backpack and snacks onto the wood-veneer desk before flinging yourself onto the double bed. The no-frills basics were worlds away from the fancy hotels you were used to staying in with Bucky, but it was clean and comfortable. And most important of all, it was private. 

“Just get the fuck out. We’re done here so save your tears. Over. Finito. I don’t need some liar in my bed, being sweet to my face then sticking a knife in my back – then not even having the guts to admit to it when she’s caught red-handed”.

Finally alone, you allowed yourself to weep. To mourn the end of your relationship and the man you thought Bucky was, versus the man he turned out to really be. To grieve, to bid farewell to the life you thought you had (and would continue to have) with him, and the way you thought he saw you. It wasn’t just about losing him and tarnishing your memories, it was also grieving for a future and a life you thought you were going to have. 

“I don’t care. You’ll figure something out, sweetheart. You’re just lucky this is all I’m doing after everything you’ve pulled…”

Large, wracking sobs took over your body as you curled up on the hotel bedspread and allowed yourself to feel it all. You ate the chips and drank the soda, barely tasting either. You turned on the TV and let the black and white movie on the one working channel serve as background noise. Fatigue eventually swam over you, smothering you like a weighted blanket.

Soon there were no tears left and the well had finally run dry. Mercifully, sleep finally came for you, and you gave into it without a fight. 

And you slept. And slept. 

💔

Bucky was at his desk looking at paperwork when Steve came back into his home office. He was doing his best to ignore the nauseating rush in his gut, trying his hardest not to think about you and the way your face had crumpled as he confronted you. Most likely it was just your guilt, anyway.

“Barton said the shipment arrived right on schedule, everything accounted for,” Steve advised as he poured himself a shot of bourbon from the small bar setup in the corner of the office. “And Sam’s out at the shipyard, running through the plan with Rumlow”.

He was desperate to address the elephant of the room and ask Bucky how he was holding up, but Bucky had previously insisted nobody bring your name up. So he didn’t. 

“Good,” Bucky replied curtly. “And Stark?”

“All on board. Said we can iron out the details next week”.

“Perfect, thanks”.

Steve nodded, downing the last of his glass as he placed it on the ornate tray and headed to the door.

“Oh, and Steve?” Bucky called out to him.

“Yeah, Buck?” He turned to face his friend.

“Do you….you uh know…where she went? After…what happened?” He asked, the tiniest hint of hesitation in his otherwise firm tone. Most people wouldn’t have spotted it, but most people didn’t know Bucky like Steve did. 

Steve shook his head, “No, Buck. Some of the men saw her leaving on foot a little while ago”.

Bucky swallowed but his face betrayed no emotion, “On foot?”

“Yeah. I guess she didn’t have a lot of options…” Steve shrugged.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah…I guess I just assumed she’d book a cab…or call one of her friends…” he said wistfully as he looked back down at the papers across his desk.

“She left her phone. Scott found it by the front door, next to her purse. I’m not sure she took anything with her, actually,” Steve mused.

Bucky frowned, “No…phone? No…money?”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t think so. But that’s good, right? You said yourself she was probably just playing a long-con to get your money too…”

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to the desk, his grip on the fountain pen he was holding tightened, the nib shaking from the force of his strength.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked tentatively as he watched the way the pen shook.

Any hint of vulnerability was immediately snuffed out as Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Steve. 

“Of course. Fine. Let me know what Sam says”.

Steve nodded, “Right. I’ll call him now”.

As Steve closed the door, the pen snapped in Bucky’s hand.

[captainsophiestark]

Pegasus

Maxon Schreave x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2022!

Prompt: “Is this safe?”

Fandom: The Selection Series

Summary: Y/N joined the Selection, and against her expectations, fell in love with Maxon Schreave. Now that things are coming to a close and the Rebel activity is picking up, everyone's more stressed than usual, but Maxon has especially being running himself into the ground. He needs to take a break and take care of himself, but he hasn't been organizing that for himself. So, Y/N takes it into her own hands to give him a bit of a mental health recharge.

Word Count: 1,968

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I took a deep breath as I straightened my dress in the mirror, mentally running through a checklist. The food, the blanket, and everything else I'd decided to set up for the night were all ready and placed. I'd asked my maids to give me the evening, and they'd agreed while also promising to keep prying eyes and ears away. There was nothing else I needed to do.

When I'd first entered the Selection, it had been for my family. We'd needed the money, and it wasn't like living in the palace for a while was the worst thing in the world, if I did get Selected. When I'd been chosen, marrying the prince wasn't particularly on my radar.

Then I got to know Maxon.

He was without a doubt the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful man I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. Things felt easy with him, for some reason, and despite all the structure and official procedure that was supposed to come with the Selection, we'd quickly formed a close friendship that had turned into more.

If I'd told myself at the beginning of this thing that I'd be falling in love with Prince Maxon, and him with me, I would've laughed in my own face. And yet, many weeks later, here we were.

Recently, as the Selection worked its way to a close and Rebel activity had picked up significantly, I could tell Maxon was seriously feeling the stress. I'd barely seen him, and whenever he did have time to say hello to me and the other ladies, his mind was clearly elsewhere. He'd started to look more and more sleep deprived at meals, and so I'd decided yesterday to find a way to give him a bit of a break.

I couldn't do much, especially since I wasn't officially marrying him yet. I couldn't get officially involved in the meetings, politics, or anything else, and even though Maxon did consult with me about those issues sometimes, I couldn't actually go to meetings to help him deal with things. So, I'd decided to give him a complete break from the stressors in a way he probably didn't usually get to enjoy.

I'd gotten in touch with him this morning through a friendly castle servant to ask him to meet me tonight, a few hours after dinner. With the help of my maids, I'd spent the rest of the day getting everything together, and now all that was left was for Maxon to show up.

Right on cue, I heard a knock at my door. I smiled to myself and crossed the room to open it, then found Maxon, looking exhausted but still smiling at the sight of me.

"Hello, my dear," he said. I smiled.

"Your highness." I dipped into a curtsey as I said it, and Maxon immediately grinned and shook his head at my antics.

"Please. You know we're well past that level of formality."

"That we are." We shared a smile as I stepped aside to let him into my room, then shut the door behind him. He wandered into the middle of the room, looking like he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, then turned to me.

"So... what did you want to see me about? Is everything alright?"

"I think that's my line," I said. I crossed the room and walked past him to throw open the doors to the balcony. I turned back to Maxon, only to find him staring at me with an eyebrow raised in question. "You've clearly been stressed out of your mind lately. I thought you could use a little break."

"You're not wrong about that, darling."

"Luckily for you, I know just the thing. Come on."

I motioned for him to join me on the balcony, which he did. He took a deep breath of the cool night air and let it out slowly, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders with it.

"It does feel good to be out here," he said.

"Yes, it does. But this isn't all we're doing." With that, I turned to the railing of the balcony and carefully moved to stand on it, using the wall of the castle to balance myself. I heard Maxon gasp, but I ignored him as I climbed the rest of the way up and onto the roof of the palace, above my room.

"Y/N! What on Earth are you doing?" he asked. I popped my head back over the edge of the roof to look at him.

"Giving you a relaxing evening. Now just trust me and get up here, carefully."

Maxon hesitated for half a second before I saw him make the decision to throw caution to the wind and follow me. He moved to the edge of the balcony to follow the same path that I'd taken, and I reached out a hand to help him. A few seconds later, and he was on the roof with me.

"Y/N... Is this safe?" he asked, hesitating a bit and looking behind him, over the edge and towards the long drop into the palace garden. I gave his hand a tug to get him to focus back on me and everything in front of him.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said. "I've been up here more than a few times myself to get some space from... well, everything about palace life, really. Balconies and gardens are nice, but as you'll soon see, nothing quite beats sitting on the roof, out of sight of everyone and staring up at the stars."

Maxon huffed a breath and smiled, and I could tell the idea appealed to him as much as it did to me. I stood and led him a few steps further onto the roof, away from the edge, where I'd laid out a blanket and set up a picnic with all of our favorite foods.

"Ta-da!" I said, gesturing grandly with my arm and facing Maxon with a beaming smile. He stared at the setup in disbelief for a moment, then turned to me with a dumbstruck look on his face.

"Y/N... did you really do all this for me?"

"Yes I did. You take care of everyone else all day long, me included. It's about damn time that someone else took care of you, pardon my language."

He laughed, a smile slowly spreading across his face as my words sunk in. He crossed the roof and closed the few steps of distance between us, wrapping his arm around me carefully and pulling me into his chest.

"Thank you, my dear. For this, and for everything else you do for me," he muttered into my hair as he leaned in to kiss the top of my head. I lifted my chin and met his eyes, then leaned up to give him a soft kiss on the lips. We'd kissed a few times before, but it still felt special and new, and I could feel tingles running through my entire body despite the fact that our lips only met for a few moments.

"I'm happy I could help," I said softly, meeting Maxon's tender gaze with one of my own. "Now come on, let's enjoy this beautiful night."

Maxon and I shared a smile, then moved to lay down together on the blanket. We made our way through all the snacks I'd gathered, then when we were completely full, we laid fully on our backs and stared up at the stars.

"Do you know anything about identifying them?" I asked after a few moments of peaceful, comfortable silence. "What they're called, or the stories behind them?"

"Not much," he replied, his tone full of regret. "Most of the stories have been lost or destroyed. But do you see that grouping of stars there?"

He pointed up, gesturing to a few clusters that were close to each other, and I hummed in affirmation.

"I read in one of the books my father keeps under lock and key that those stars are called 'Pegasus'. Pegasus is a great winged horse that flies through the night sky, and used to help the heroes and gods of stories told so long ago they've been completely lost to time."

"That's beautiful," I sighed, shifting closer to Maxon as I did. He wrapped his arm around my back and waist, and I rested my head on his shoulder and curled into his side. "Do you think Pegasus is still out there somewhere?"

"I think he must be," Maxon replied. "Roaming the skies or the stars, and waiting for someone to let the world remember him."

Neither of us spoke for a minute, and I could feel all of Maxon's frustration at his father and the way so many things in the kingdom were currently being run radiating off him in waves. I traced patterns over his chest, hoping to sooth him a bit by being there and reminding him that I was with him, no matter what.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure Pegasus will be back soon," I said, keeping my voice low but sure. "When you're King, Maxon, things will be better. You'll finally have the power to make them better. And it'll probably mean worlds more stress than you're dealing with right now, but it will be more of the good kind, the kind that comes with the business of affecting change. And much less of the bad kind, of being forced to sit by while people make decisions and create policy that makes you want to scream."

Maxon took a long, deep breath in and out, then wrapped his arm around me a little tigheter.

"Since when do you know me so well?" he finally asked, his tone light and joking. I smiled.

"Since I realized I might actually be persuaded to like a prince, of all things."

Maxon huffed a laugh, then pinched my arm in a bit of payback. I whacked his chest in revenge, but he just laughed again.

We relaxed back into comfortable silence, staring up at the stars and relaxing in each other's warmth and the temporary feeling that it was just the two of us in the entire world. Maxon's heartbeat echoed in my ears as I closed my eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. I'd just started drifting off as a result of the feeling of complete security and relaxation when Maxon spoke again, his voice a low, quiet rumble.

"You'll be right there by my side, Y/N," he said. He absently rubbed circles on my waist with his thumb as he spoke. "The two of us will make the world right, together. King and Queen, in love, a perfect team."

I smiled and hummed, my heart practically ready to burst at his words.

"Darn right we will," I agreed. He pulled me closer to him, although that was hardly possible, and his hand squeezed securely on my waist, reminding us both we belonged with each other.

We were both young, and there would be plenty of challenges for us to deal with along the way. But I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that things would work out for us. Laying together under the stars, the two of us finding a moment of peace in a swirl of chaos, I was completely confident in our happy ending. We'd continue to fall for each other every day, get married, change the world, then find our peaceful storybook sunset. And nothing could possibly stand in our way.

[roseykat]

TITLE: Play Bite

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Jisung x female reader

SUMMARY: You, Hyunjin, and Jisung have a really fun time playing a dirty truth or dare game after the plans for everyone to go out failed. Part 1 to the 'Play' series.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

Part 1 - Play Bite Part 2 - Play Fight Part 3 - Play Right

TAGS: Hyunjin, Jisung, and reader have all consumed alcohol but are not fully drunk, smut, kissing, hickies, making out, dirty texts, dirty talk, erotic truth or dares, use of pet names such as 'bub', 'baby' and 'pretty', swearing, food play (nothing heavy), solo orgasm, female masturbation, suggestive material, very vague mentions of choking (not emphasised), slight traces of top!Jisung.

MASTERLIST

A/N: Think of this as a prelude to this hard thought I posted a while ago. If you haven't read it, it will give you some context into what will come in the future for this type of concept. Also just to preface but not give away too many spoilers, nobody is cheating in this story.

-

“Remove one piece of clothing, socks do not count,” Jisung reads aloud from the card in his hand. 

It’s the third task into the deck of dirty truth or dare at Hyunjin's apartment. After the entire group’s plan to go out for the night fell through when it started pelting down, it was in all three of your guys’ best interests to not waste the night. So, although he invited the rest of the group over for drinks, only you and Jisung decided to go around. 

An hour later into the night and already just past the point of tipsy, the three of you progressed to playing games. A set of dirty truth or dare cards was the first thing that caught Jisung’s keen eye as he analysed the plethora of games that Hyunjin had on a shelf in his living room. 

“You’re not even wearing socks, so you have no choice,” Hyunjin chuckles, almost evilly.

Jisung dons his best thinking face, eyes narrowing as he tries to come up with which item of clothing he wants to take off. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the entire fabric up and over his head before placing it beside him, careful not to knock over his drink. 

Your eyes glue to his gorgeous bare top half for a few seconds too long before averting them to the floor like you weren’t supposed to look at him. It’s not like you’ve never seen him topless before in all of his honey toned glory. Almost always will Jisung proudly walk around half naked unprovoked when you’re around him. 

“Your turn bub,” he continued.

You clear your throat then lean over to pick a card up from the middle, then read it out loud, “oh…”

“What’s it say?” Jisung peeks his head over to see what’s written down before his jaw unhinges. “Let the person to your left select an area of your body for them to give you a hickey. Wow.”

Hyunjin, to your left, stares back at you in shock and horror. His cheeks were ballooned and full of liquid after taking a large swig of his drink before setting it down. The more silent seconds that tick by, the more flips his stomach keeps doing. But, he had to expect the unexpected with this game.

You and Jisung were ready to play by the rules and Hyunjin wasn’t going to exempt himself from it just because of the card you pulled. 

He swallows the mouthful of alcohol, “alright. Are you okay with me doing this?”

You nod even though you can feel your heart picking up its pace, “I am.”

He takes your answer and runs with it then ponders on the best place to plant a hickey on your body. It doesn’t take him long to think of a number of unspoken places where he would and even though he’s tipsy enough to disclose those areas, he decides to keep that to himself. 

“Okay, can you lie down for me then?” He asks. 

“Lie down?”

“Mm, otherwise it might be awkward to reach,” he explains vaguely. 

You start jumping to conclusions at the instant you hear his request, yet your mind is so hazy that your body just ends up listening to what Hyunjin has asked of you instead. You end up lying back on the floor, your head next to Jisung’s thigh who looks down at you while Hyunjin moves. 

His long body straddles yours but not fully putting his weight down on you. With his hand, he pulls back some of your hair so he can reach the area he wants before gently tilting your chin up and to the side towards Jisung. 

Hyunjin then sinks his face down just to the side of your throat and sucks. For a second, your body squirms at the slight achy pang that he brings to the surface of your skin. Still, with the way that your body is buzzing, it undoubtedly feels amazing. He remains there for a few seconds and uses his tongue to swipe over the surface he just marked.  

Jisung watches with his mouth ajar. He takes in the contorted look of concentration on your face, the way your eyelids flutter closed. 

It’s not long after until Hyunjin peels himself off of you then takes your hand to help you sit back up again. In hindsight, you wonder if it was all but necessary to lie down for him in order to give you a hickey. But Hyunjin’s thinking was that to reach your throat, you had to be on the ground. 

“That might’ve been-“ his face contorts with worry just looking at the fresh, deep and reddish mark. “A bit much, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you respond, trying to act cool under the pressure. “It felt nice anyway. Okay, Hyunnie’s turn.” 

He draws another card, reading it in his mind before his eyes dart to Jisung, “make out…with the person beside you for one minute.”

“W-Which side?” You ask. 

“My left which is-“

“Me,” Jisung responds, pointing at his chest. “Alright then.”

Hyunjin stares blankly at his friend, unsure if he's joking or not, “wait, you’re…you’re serious?”

Jisung shifts his body closer to Hyunjin, his face nearing him, “that’s the game right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “Yeah, okay then.”

“I can set a timer,” you announce.

He’s never done this before - kissed a friend, made out with a friend. For one, Hyunjin knows Jisung has done so multiple times, having been an impartial witness to it. Whether it was while Jisung was drunk, sober, high, it happened. Even with the same gender. 

“Alright,” you say, pulling out your phone as you go to the clock app to set a timer for one minute and place it on the ground. “3, 2, 1, go.”

You’re not sure who it was first that leaned in for the kiss after being so warped by the fact that they were even doing this. It was like Hyunjin offered his mouth and Jisung went for the kill. Both of them started off slowly by the time ten seconds hit. Twenty seconds in and Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the side of his friends’ face when the kiss deepens even further. 

You watch the glide of their tongues move so languidly with one another, doing unspeakable things in between your legs. Similar to Jisung’s reaction when Hyunjin gave you a hickey, your mouth was on the floor. There’s no way in hell could you ignore how hot it was to see them make out. 

After forty seconds, the pace had picked up a notch as they continued to move in sync with one another. Jisung’s hand had made it onto Hyunjin’s lap with some unintentional plan of slowly hiking up his thigh. In his mind, the more touch, the better. He already felt floaty because of the alcohol. Now Jisung touching him, kissing him, was an enhancement. 

At the mark of one minute, your phone rudely blares its alarm. Hyunjin pulls away with red lips, Jisung’s as equally as glossy as the other. They stall for a second, almost as if they briefly thought about going back at it again…

“Minho was right,” Jisung breaks the silence willingly. “You are a pretty good kisser.”

“What?” Hyunjin exclaims, his eyes almost popping out of his head. 

“What?” He whines. “He and I were trying to figure out who in the group would be the best kisser. Minho reckons you are.”

“You say that as if you’ve kissed everyone in the group to try and find that out,” You realise. 

“Well I just kissed him, so it’s everyone except for you now. Which there’s still time for since it’s my turn now,” he responds in a slightly hopeful tone and picks up his next card. “Huh, maybe not - what’s the most amount of times you’ve had sex in one day?” 

“Is that the first truth question?” Hyunjin points out, trying to subtly keep himself calm after what just went down with Jisung. 

“I think so,” you reply. “We’re nowhere near halfway through the deck.” 

“Three and a half,” Jisung answers. 

“And a half?” You and Hyunjin parrot in unison, the confusion very present in both of your tones.

“Halfway through the act, got caught, had to wrap it up and leave,” Jisung explains very succinctly. “It would’ve been four if it weren’t for fucking Seungmin. Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m holding a grudge or anything.”

“Sure,” you trail off, trying your best not to laugh at his misfortune while you go to pick up a card. “Uh, lend your phone to the person on your right and let them send a dirty text to someone in your contacts.”

Jisung claps excitedly, “hand it over baby!” 

You roll your eyes, reluctantly passing him your device, “anyone except my family otherwise I probably won’t live to see another day.” 

He takes your phone earnestly with a cheeky and devious expression before delving righteously into your contacts list, “don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Jisung’s thumb scrolls excitedly trying to find the right person to send the right message to. He pauses over a couple of names and then finds one he thinks will give the most entertaining response. He creates a new message and types in what he wants to say.  

From You: I’m horny. Come over and fuck me.

The silence was palpable as the fate of your dignity rests in your friends’ hands. Once the message is sent, Jisung keeps your phone on standby while you all wait for the response. The sheer riskiness of the dare calls for you to pick up your drink and finish the rest off, knowing that you’re going to need it. 

“What did you write?” You ask him anyway, setting your empty glass aside. 

He looks smugly at the screen again and repeats what he created, “I’m horny, come over and fuck me.”

Your eyes widen in horror, “t-that’s not…who did you send that to!?”

“That’s a bit straightforward isn’t it?” Hyunjin laughs. 

“Doesn’t matter now, your turn, go,” Jisung nods to you.

“Fine,” you groan, snatching up a card. “How many times a day do you get off? Once, maybe twice. Done. Next, you go.” 

Hyunjin blinks in surprise at the information you so rapidly provided and leans into the circle to grab his card, “alright. Choose one person to sit in between your legs for the remainder of the game.” 

“I think considering that he and I just made out, it’s your turn to do something now,” Jisung smoothly contends his point before you could even get a word out. 

“Fair enough,” you respond coolly.

The move is practically childsplay in comparison to what they’ve done so far. Nonetheless, it quickly proved itself to be rather effective on your body. 

Hyunjin tries not to grin and spreads his legs for you to slot perfectly in between them. You’ve been this close to him before - in a hug at least. But never has Hyunjin been as acutely intimate with you as of right now. As he’s pressed up behind you, it’s hopeless to try not to be so affected by such subtlety. The warmth from his body glows like a heater onto your back and the steadiness of his breathing is comforting. 

“Sungie’s turn,” he says from behind you. 

Another card is taken from the deck and Jisung reads once more, “feed someone a food item with your mouth. Okay, but what kind of food?” 

“There’s that bowl of grapes just there on the coffee table,” Hyunjin points over to it. 

Jisung spins around on the floor and sees the assortment of snacks that they had laid out on the table earlier on. He turns back with the entire silver bowl in his lap, popping a couple of them in his mouth and eating away to his heart's content before proceeding with the dare. 

“You’re breathing heavy,” Hyunjin whispers teasingly in your ear while Jisung isn’t looking. 

“S-Shut up,” you utter back to him, trying not to act so utterly embarrassed by the truth he’s managed to highlight. 

Jisung pops in two more grapes and goes to sit beside you before talking with his mouth full, “bo’ o’ ya.”

“Huh?” Hyunjin retorts, trying to decipher what his friend is saying. 

You ponder for a second, “I think he said both of us?” 

Your guess comes up as correct because without a proper verbal answer from Jisung, his actions spoke louder. He leans towards your face first - closer than it has ever been since you’ve known him. The purple grape sits between his teeth as he goes to pass it to you by his mouth. It was awkward to manoeuvre at first, but the pair of you discovered that using your lips is key. By that point, Jisung manages to exchange the fruit as you crush down on the grape that explodes with such a sweet flavour. 

Then, he moves a bit behind you to reach Hyunjin. Both of them struggle to pass the grape without fully touching each other's lips once more. Then again, that was the point of the card that Jisung pulled. 

“Yummy?” he asks, sliding back to his original spot with the bowl. 

“Mm,” Hyunjin hums while he chews. “Sweet.” 

Half of the stuff that you’ve done so far with them makes you realise that you’re not that nervous to do these kinds of things. It could’ve been the alcohol, that definitely helps. But also because they’re two of your best friends and wherever they are, you feel safe in their proximity. 

“My turn,” you say as Jisung picks the top card off of the deck and slides it to you across the floor. “Oh - same as Sungie’s, remove a piece of clothing, socks do not count. Isn’t this just a forfeit card since it’s already been picked up?”

“No, not necessarily?” Hyunjin answers. “Plus, what if you forfeit that one and pick another one but it’s worse?”

He had a good point. It was a very mellow dare in comparison to the others you’ve all completed. With that in mind, your hands find their way down to your shorts, contemplating whether to take them off or not. Considering Jisung already has his top off, you went for the opposite in a sudden spur of confidence that was short lived when you saw the look on your friend's face. 

Jisung’s eyes couldn’t leave where your hands moved as you freed your legs from the fabric, allowing you to remain in your underwear. However, it becomes very apparent to you that taking your pants off wasn’t such a good idea when you know that you’re wet. Whether they knew it, particularly Jisung who had a full view of you, was too late. 

Behind you, Hyunjin was trying to keep himself calm as you moved around a bit, “w-who’s turn is it now?” 

Jumping onto a different topic gave time for Jisung to blink away from your body. He feels guilty for even staring at you like that in the first place. Then again, it’s not like you weren’t doing the same ever since he took his shirt off. 

“Yours actually,” you answer and without any spatial awareness whatsoever, you lean forward just a bit to pick up a card for Hyunjin that your ass slightly pushes back into his crotch in the process. 

After the fact of the matter, you realise what you’ve done. But it wasn’t intentional. You just wanted to pick up a card for him so that he didn’t have to move from behind you. As you come back to sit between his legs properly, you feel his forehead rest against the back of your head - a silent sign to prove he definitely recognised what you did to him.

Although he didn’t say anything because what was there to say to that? In hindsight, it might’ve been better forJisung to just read it out for Hyunjin. 

“H-Here,” you offer the card to him, playing it off. 

He lifts his head back up from yours and takes the item, “what is your dirtiest fantasy and why?” 

Right now if Hyunjin was able to answer honestly, he would say ‘fucking you while his best friend watches.’ But even for a filthy game that they’re playing, he thought it would be inappropriate to say. On top of that, it’s not actually his dirtiest fantasy. He could do way worse but just doesn’t know what at this point in time in his sex life. There was still time for him to explore…

“I haven’t really got one at the moment,” says Hyunjin. “I suppose just real…rough sex.” 

Jisung immediately becomes intrigued, oblivious to the fact that Hyunjin had it in him to admit such a scandalous piece of information, “what does that mean to you though?”

He becomes even more flustered under the heat of his friends’ question, it doesn’t help that he’s nearly fully hard behind you either, “it means things like…choking or hair pulling-”

“What…you like to do those things or those things being done to yo-

“Both, I like both. Anyway, that’s not the question,” Hyunjin interrupts impatiently. “Just move on.” 

It’s difficult for you not to laugh at him, yet as you go to pick up a card - more carefully this time for Hyunjin’s sake - your smile fades quicker than you could blink. Not one doubt crossed your mind about how obscene this game could get. Yet this card refuted all of that. 

“I…get…get yourself off in front of someone,” you mumble in a very quiet voice.

“Get what?” Jisung tries to reiterate. 

Hyunjin’s brows knit in concentration as he reads the card from over your shoulder, “she has to get herself in front of someone.”

An ‘o’ forms in Jisung’s mouth before he responds to that statement, “that’s a…an interesting card.” 

The three of you fall deathly silent to the weight that the dare has you under. Your mind wants you to do it, to satiate that instinctual appetite to pleasure yourself ever since the game heated up. To do so in front of your friends doesn’t appear to be a bad idea which technically it isn’t from the way they already have you unintentionally wet. That in itself said a lot.

Therefore, you spread your legs and bend your knees. 

An expression of realisation washes over Jisung, coming to grips with what’s about to unfold. As for Hyunjin, he can only sit and remain in place as a support for you to lean against when your hand slips down the front of your underwear as you begin to rub. A sigh of warm relief then pushes past your lips. The pads of your fingers collect your damp essence to use as you circle over your clit. 

Already, a hefty volume of pressure is escalating in the pit of your tummy, tingling and spreading throughout your lower half. All from being turned on by the game. The person in front of you and behind you feel the exact same way except the one behind you was already there a long time ago. Their cocks fill out against the inside of their thighs and Hyunjin is positive that you can feel him through his pants. 

“Y/N,” Jisung says. “Does that make you feel good?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin warns him sharply, not wanting his friend to fuel the fire that’s burning. 

“Mm, y-yes,” you stutter, breath catching at the base of your throat the more you try and push yourself towards an edge. 

It could be better though. It could be the pair of them groping and teasing your body at their will. You know that they both know how to use their mouths with the way that they made out earlier on. Not to mention from the grapevine, you’ve heard about Jisung too; how he knows how to eat pussy. Then you have Hyunjin, who just exposed his fantasy of liking having rough sex. The possibilities with his ideas would be endless and fun. 

With the pair of them, you don’t think you would ever run out of orgasms. Just thinking about it makes your fingers speed up, becoming increasingly more wetter. Your muscles jerk every now and then when you inch closer to the tail end of your orgasm, which causes you to unintentionally move against Hyunjin’s crotch once more. 

“Y/N,” Hyunjin breathes out against you. 

“Don’t touch her,” Jisung snaps. “This is her dare.”

“I-I’m not fucking touching her,” he presses back madly, then mutters just to himself as he hides behind you. “Can’t help it Jisung.”

“K-Keep watching…” you plead. “So…close.” 

Hyunjin’s nails are digging deep into the carpet beneath him and his restraint not to touch you teeters dangerously on the last millimetre of a cliff. He’s throbbing, achingly hard. For you. Jisung can see his friends' knuckles turning white but he understands. He too remains hard in his sweats, which was obvious to you. Even just the slight outline that you can see indicates to you that he’s big.

Your mind starts wondering what that sort of length would do to your body, how would it feel to have inside of you? As you ask yourself those questions, you try to imagine that sensation when you start fingering yourself. 

You whimper pathetically, curling over that sweet spongy spot, “yes, feels so good. Makes me wanna cum…” 

“Yeah? Gonna cum in front of us?” Jisung eggs you on. “Gonna make yourself cum just for us?

Your dozy eyes lock with him just for a few seconds before you nod against Hyunjin’s body, “j-just for you both.” 

“F-Fuck,” Hyunjin squeezes his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth so much that his jaw aches. 

As that familiar euphoric bliss catches up to you, a silent scream paints over your face while your eyelids clamp shut and your eyebrows are furrowed together, focusing on the pleasure. For a moment, you’ve forgotten that Hyunjin is behind you as you can’t help but shiver helplessly against his body from the waves of your orgasm. Quiet yet very audible moans ring throughout Hyunjin’s apartment, making themselves known as you gradually come down with heavy gasps. 

“Holy shit,” Jisung murmurs in awe, he can see that you’ve soaked through your underwear. 

The large wet and sticky patch makes him want to lurch forward, tear the piece of clothing from your body and taste you for himself. To have his face buried in between your legs would be the Atlantis of his own fantasy right now, to have you use his mouth and tongue until you’re cumming all over again. 

In the moments of quiet when the still air is filled with nothing but your staggered breathing and depleted whimpers as you try to collect yourself, your phone buzzes on Jisung’s thigh - the reply to the dirty text he sent from earlier on.

He looks down at the glowing bright screen and his jaw drops to the floor once more. His mind sobers quickly.

From Chan to You: Again? Still horny from this morning? Alright then, I can come over and give you what you need x

There was no way.

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[fushitoru]

chapter 2: the aftermath a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ after an eventful first ball after your debut, you continue the season with thinly veiled vexation towards gojo. but fate is not on your side; you and gojo keep encountering each other, matching fire with fire (7.8k)

a/n some parts of this chapter broke my brain to write but i kind of had fun! as always thank you to @/sinn-claire for beta reading :p i was going to say i'll try to have weekly updates but i don't want to jinx it lol

prev. the debutante | next. the manor

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest gentle reader, 

It appears that Her Majesty has bestowed the coveted title of this season’s Diamond upon none other than Miss Itadori, who has indeed lived up to her newfound acclaim as the incomparable of the year. At the latest ball, our shining Diamond was quite occupied, with suitors lining up in such numbers that one might have thought them to be queuing for the royal throne itself. Furthermore, blooms were budding between many of the debutantes and gentlemen, including…..

...Yet, one particular couple captivated the attention of all: none other than Mister Satoru Gojo and our season’s Diamond. After having kept his words sparse and his attentions limited to none, Mister Gojo appeared utterly taken with Miss Itadori, conversing with her intimately on the dance floor. It seems your humble Author was indeed correct⸺Mister Gojo has entered the marriage market. However, the exclusivity he has adopted may not deter the determined maidens he seeks to avoid, for the Ambitious Mamas will no doubt perceive his selectiveness as a challenge to be overcome. 

One cannot help but wonder if an announcement of particular interest will be made at the upcoming Gojo country house party. Although your Author has not yet laid eyes upon the guest list for the Duchess Gojo’s anticipated gathering, reliable sources suggest that nearly every eligible young lady of marriageable age will be journeying to Kent next week. The country house party is known to be a perilous affair. Married individuals often find themselves enjoying the company of someone other than their spouse, while the unwed frequently return to town betrothed with surprising haste.

Indeed, the most unexpected engagements often follow closely on the heels of such rustic diversions.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Satoru had no intention of squandering his time this season⸺or at any time, for that matter.

The notion of love matches held little appeal to him, despite witnessing such a union firsthand in his own parents. Make no mistake, the Duke and Duchess Gojo enjoyed a happy marriage, and Satoru held both his father and mother in the highest regard. Yet, he was perfectly content on his own.

Being one of the strongest bachelors⸺both intellectually and physically⸺has been Satoru’s destiny. Ever since his ancestors had been blessed by the royal family with the dukedom, the Gojo family had made its goal to be the most powerful nobility and the closest to the royal family. (Which is still maintained in the status quo, because the Queen dotes on Satoru, inviting him for tea every fortnight. The Queen lavished him with overly sweet biscuits, and in return, Satoru provided her with the latest gossip from court). 

But this responsibility doesn’t get fulfilled without independence; one had to accept the solitary truth that to be truly great was to remain unswayed by the fleeting pleasures of the world⸺love included.

Satoru had little time or interest for the other vices that tempted men of his station, such as lust. Contrary to the whispers circulating among the ton, Satoru had never indulged in the life of a rake or frequented brothels as many of his acquaintances did. Really, the allegations were, in truth, merely just a byproduct of his appearance and demeanor; with a young man with the stature, face, and eligibility of Satoru, the public would immediately like to slap on the label of “rake” due to his arrogant personality. Moreover, any encounters he had witnessed between men and women⸺whether dropping his friends off at brothels in his carriage after an evening at the gentleman’s club or overhearing flirtations at parties⸺struck him as shallow and an utter waste of time, especially when he was already a week behind on the ledgers and other official matters his father had entrusted to him. (He did have one indulgence, however: a weakness for gluttony, with an array of sweet confections as his loyal companions during long, sleepless nights.)

Marriage was an even greater burden. The thought of being accountable for a wife, and eventually children, seemed like a daunting task to Satoru. With sleepless nights spent on covering just a fraction of the business his father must do as a duke, Satoru was tired. He was exhausted⸺exhausted from the weight of responsibility, from striving to meet his father’s expectations, from seeking the Queen’s approval, from worrying over what Whistledown might print about him, and from the gossip of the businessmen with whom the Gojo family dealt. 

And yet, despite this weariness, Satoru was gripped by an insatiable obsession with perfection, an obsession that only deepened his fatigue. He craved approval, power, and the flawless execution of his duties⸺desires that gnawed at him even as they threatened to consume him.

Which is exactly why he needed a perfect wife. A wife that was capable, could handle bothersome people⸺which he was steadily losing the patience to deal with⸺and a reliable companion. Someone that would reduce his stress, not add to it. 

Satoru had spent all day lurking in the shadows as best as he could; being the most eligible bachelor did mean that brothers and sisters were coming up to him, singing praises of their debutante in an effort to capture his interest. But Satoru knew all too well that the loudest families often had the most to compensate for.

As ladies in white paraded before the crowd, many buckling under the weight of judgment and attention, Satoru prowled like a jungle cat, staying hidden in the throng, biding his time, and waiting for the right moment to strike.

What he noticed first about you was your way of carrying yourself. Even Auntie⸺the Queen⸺who, after seeing countless of girls today, had been incredibly bored, dragged her eyes over you in slightly more interest than she did for others. The moment you stepped through those grand doors into the court, it was evident to everyone that your stride was that of someone who understood her role and position in life⸺a confidence that set you apart from the other debutantes. Satoru’s eyes raked over you, observing you as your chest rose slightly as you took a breath in. 

And then you smiled.

Satoru's eyes widened, just imperceptibly, as he watched your expression as you made your way to the Queen. He made sure to shake his expression off to a more nonchalant one as he watched your form walk. Lesser men than Satoru would die for your smile. Men, out of all traits a woman could possess, cherished a pretty visage the most. Yet, what your smile conveyed went beyond mere beauty; it embodied innocence and the qualities most esteemed in a demure bride (which Satoru knew was just all a show, but it was indeed indicative of your skill to put up appearances, hence deeming you a reliable companion).

The corner of the young man's mouth rose.  When the Queen declared you the diamond of the season, Satoru knew he had found his quarry.

When the ball came, Satoru acted similarly: observing from behind, staying in conversation with his friends and other noble men that did business with the Gojo family as he prowled the ballroom, waiting for the right moment to ask you for your hand. And then Naoya came in when you were finally alone, away from all the incompetent men that dared to think they had a chance to court you, and Satoru almost laughed snarkily at how easy it all was. 

Approaching you, saving you from Naoya⸺it was all a perfect construction of his. Dancing, he noticed your steps were carried out with a practiced perfection and grace, and your responses to his questions displayed a respectable level of intellect. He could tell your responses were practiced and simple, your constitution and demeanor a result of much effort into presenting yourself as best as you could. But what does it matter, when you do it so perfectly?

Maybe it was a bit naive of him, but you seemed to glow when conversing with him. It amused him, as he kept watching your pretty eyes as you kept smiling while he kept throwing difficult questions at you. It was all expected, however. Satoru knew he was blessed with the brilliant blue Gojo eyes and eccentric fair, white hair; he was the most eligible bachelor for not only wealth and power but reproductive capabilities and opportunities as well. Which lady wouldn’t want to be mother to his cute and beautiful blue-eyed babies?

After witnessing such mediocre men who paled in comparison to Satoru, surely you must be smitten. Gojo could see right through you: you, the diamond, have been looking for a man as meritorious as you, and you had found it in Satoru. 

So why were you acting this way?

When you wake up in the morning and get ready for suitors, it is as you expected; there are multiple carriages outside your doorstep, and there is a line from the drawing room, extending all the way down the stairs. When Choso stumbles into the drawing room, where you and your mother are enjoying tea, he is clearly unhappy at the selection of men waiting to be let in to call upon you. 

“This is absurd!” Choso’s hands raked over his hair in an effort to process the scene he had just witnessed. “Why do I see Naoya waiting outside?”

Your nose crinkled in distaste. “Well, dear brother, I certainly cannot control which suitors call upon me. He must’ve enjoyed our conversation yesterday. The enjoyment, however, is one sided.”

Choso’s eyes widened comically. “You had a conversation with him yesterday?” He then turned to your mother accusingly, who was reading a Whistledown while sipping on her tea innocuously. “This would not have happened if I was there, Mother. This is your fault.”

Your mother continued drinking her tea nonchalantly, waiting for a few beats to grace him with a response. “I prefer this, my son, to no visitors out there because our dear Lord Itadori scared all the bachelors away with his pickiness.” Then, her eyes flashed. “And don’t give me that tone.”

You snickered behind your palm as Choso visibly deflated.

 “Kuna! Get back here!”

Pitter patters of small paws started to get closer and closer, as heavy footsteps followed it. Yuji and the family corgi, Sukuna Jr., burst into the room. Eyeing the biscuit in your hand, Kuna made his way directly to you, panting at your feet. A pet given affectionately by your-not-so-affectionate older brother, Sukuna, when he left for his year long trip around Europe, Kuna was the cutest little puppy. You and Yuji loved to spoil him, clearly shown as Yuji patted him while breathing heavily. You cooed as Kuna licked your fingers while inhaling the biscuit you had presented him. 

“Well,” your mother stood up, having finished her tea, and began ushering in the maids to clear the table. “It seems our morning will be quite busy. You’d best be prepared for a long day, my dear.”

Choso was still grumbling as he took a seat across from you, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the long line of suitors outside. “I’m keeping an eye on that Naoya fellow. If he so much as looks at you the wrong way…”

You raised an eyebrow at your brother’s protectiveness, feeling both amused and touched. “Choso, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself. Besides, with Kuna here, I doubt any of these gentlemen will get too close without proper approval.”

As if understanding the conversation, Sukuna Jr. barked enthusiastically, his tail wagging as he looked up at you with bright, expectant eyes. You smiled and scratched behind his ears, watching as his tiny body wriggled with joy.

Yuji, still catching his breath from the chase, flopped onto the chair beside you, shooting a grin at Choso. “Come on, big brother, give her a break. It’s not every day our sister gets declared the diamond of the season. Let her enjoy it.”

Choso crossed his arms, still unconvinced. “I’m just saying, if any of these men don’t meet my standards⸺”

“Your standards?” you interrupted with a teasing lilt. “Choso, I’d never find a husband if I had to meet your impossible standards. Besides, you should be more concerned about finding someone yourself.”

Choso’s cheeks tinted with a slight blush, but make no mistake; he was hot with anger, ready to make a snarky retort. Your mother, who had been overseeing the maids, turned her attention back to the conversation with a soft smile.

“Your sister is right, Choso. It’s her time to shine, and as her family, we should support her, not make things more difficult.” She gave him a pointed look before turning to you with a gentler expression, and he backed down as he always does for your mother. “Now, my dear, are you ready to begin receiving your guests?”

You took a deep breath, nodding as you steeled yourself for the hours of polite conversation and careful navigation of the social battlefield ahead. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” your mother said, her voice laced with both pride and encouragement. “Remember, you are the diamond of the season. There isn’t a man out there who wouldn’t be lucky to have you.”

You offered a weak smile. “Let’s get this over with.”

As you walked toward the sofa where you would be talking with suitors, Kuna trotted alongside you, his presence a comforting reminder.With Yuji and Choso trailing behind, and your mother leading the way to open the door, you braced yourself for the onslaught of admirers waiting beyond the door.

But as you straighten your posture, in anticipation to greet the first suitor, you couldn't help but glance down at Kuna, who stared up at you with wide, curious eyes. You chuckled softly.

“Well, Kuna,” you whispered, “let’s see who passes your test today.”

Gojo’s gaze wandered down to Sukuna Jr. in your lap as you stroked his fur, and he gave you a saccharine⸺yet strained⸺smile. “Must this dog bear witness to our conversation? 

As if sensing Gojo’s unfriendliness, Kuna started growling, and you could feel the rumble deep in his stomach. You met Gojo’s sweet smile with one of your own. “Yes.”

Gojo blinked, and the smile on his face faltered. You noticed that this was one of the first time Gojo’s ever expressed an emotion outside of smugness, and you count this as your personal win.

“Well,” he hesitated, and then a smile was on his face as if that stumble didn’t happen. “You look wonderful this morning, Miss Itadori.”

Your eyes flashed at his audacity to talk behind your back and try to fool you with flattery. “On the contrary, I think I look rather simple.”

Gojo, none the wiser as to what you were referring to, waved his hands. “Nonsense.”

Before you could respond, Kuna let out a low, rumbling growl, his sharp eyes fixed on Gojo. The sound was subtle, but in the quiet of the morning, it was unmistakable. Gojo’s gaze flickered down to the small dog, and his smile tightened ever so slightly.

You gently scratched behind Kuna’s ears, calming him, though his gaze never left Gojo. “I apologize on behalf of my dear Kuna,” you said, your voice light but nonetheless pointed. “He tends to be wary of many, particularly those he believes to be with ulterior motives.”

Gojo nodded, unfazed, and looked down at the dog in question. Upon eye contact, all your efforts to calm Kuna went to naught as the dog stood up, tense and teeth almost bared fully, to stare back at Gojo defiantly. Gojo, to his credit, was starting to be a little wary and was giving the pup an impassive stare. 

“You know, I have an affinity for dogs. There are many pups that I have spent my entire childhood with.” He offered a chuckle and moved his hand to pet Kuna. “Dogs do have a way of sensing things, don’t they?” That was clearly the wrong decision because the dog’s growl grew louder, and suddenly, he snapped at Gojo’s hand. Before Kuna could sink his teeth into Gojo’s hand, however, Gojo smoothly withdrew it out of his reach. 

“Protective, isn’t he?” Gojo laughed, but his stare towards Kuna was veering more and more into a glare. He tried to disguise his irritation by suavely adding, “Admirable. I’m glad he has protected my lady so well.” Gojo then grabbed your hand to give you a small kiss on the back of it while keeping eye contact. You had to divert your eyes elsewhere to avoid coloring your cheeks; while you knew this was just another one of Gojo’s pretenses to charm you, you were still fazed by it. 

You cleared your throat and tried to uphold the conversation. After all, it would be outright rude to keep throwing thinly veiled insults his way when there were others in your company; he also had the potential to spread further malicious rumors about you if you showed attitude. You mustered up a fake smile, and offered, “He was a gift to me and Yuji offered by my older brother, Sukuna, when he went traveling,” you offered. 

“Is that the brother you hoped to follow to Europe?”

You blinked and faltered. You didn’t expect him to remember that tidbit from your conversation at the ball last night. While most of the preferences you had asserted were artificial⸺supplemented to you by your tutor, who had drilled what fake preferences of yours would woo men⸺you truly did gain enthusiasm for the languages because you hoped to prove your helpfulness to Sukuna in an effort to run away from your inevitable debut. At the time, you were rebelling against anything your mama said, avoiding anything  associated with being paraded around like an animal, put on display for men. “Yes,” you said slowly, “Yes, it is.” 

Gojo smiled, this time a little more genuine at the fact it was his first time receiving an authentic response from you this morning, rather than something covered with a fake smile. Just as he leaned in slightly, probably preparing to make another smooth remark, Kuna, who had been shifting in your lap, suddenly stilled, his face buried in your lap and tail facing Gojo. For a moment, you thought he might be settling down.

And then it happened.

The largest fart ripped through the room out of Kuna’s arse, which was pointed directly in Gojo’s face. While you were not a scholar studying physics, you were aware that the air dynamics did not do Gojo any favors in preventing the smell from hitting him direct-on. Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, and his suave expression faltered entirely as the smell quickly followed, filling the air around you both.

You could feel the heat rushing to your face in your effort not to laugh out loud. Trying to keep your composure, you gently patted Kuna’s belly, who was now face up, tongue lolling out in bliss. “Oh, dear,” you muttered, your voice strained with the effort to suppress a laugh.

Gojo, for once, was at a loss for words. His eyes were tearing up, probably at the smell; whenever you and Yuji spoiled Kuna with those biscuits, he dropped nasty-smelling dungs, and you knew Gojo wasn’t spared at all. The arrogant bachelor, who always seemed to have a witty response ready, was now at a loss of words as he weakly gazed upon the weak little poot! poot!s that escaped Kuna as you continued patting his stomach in an effort to relieve your pup’s digestive system.

At Gojo’s expression, you had to take quiet, deep breaths in an effort to rein in the cackles that were threatening to overcome you. You resorted to covering your mouth as you strained, “As you can see, my Kuna is quite expressive, and he seemed quite eager to show you that.”

He offered you a strained smile. “He does indeed generate quite a bit of wind.” At that, you could no longer hold back. Genuine laughter wracked through your figure, hurting your ribs as you tried to quell it with a hand to the mouth, but no avail. Your muffled laughter was still loud, and when the giggles subsided, you wiped your tears and threw an apologetic look at Gojo, preparing to express your regret. 

But you stopped at the sheer wonder he contained in his face as his gaze fixated on your lips, which were drawn back in the ghost of the smile you had while laughing riotously. Without allowing you much time to dwell on it, he stood up and dipped his head in a little bow. “Well, I have been taking quite a bit of your time, Miss Itadori. I better let other suitors have their chance.” He kissed the back of your hand. “I hope to see you at the horse race tomorrow.”

“Likewise.” You couldn’t help but spy some red coloring Gojo’s alabaster cheeks as he made his way to the exit. As you greeted the next suitor, the imprint of a certain man’s lips continued to tingle on your hands. 

“I told you he was a rake,” Nobara muttered as she scrubbed your arm with an intensity that matched her outrage. After hearing what Gojo had said about you, she was livid. Unfortunately, your skin was bearing the brunt of her frustration.

“Well,” you mused, trying to distract her, “what rumors have you heard that make you think that?”

“Momo told me a few months ago⸺” Nobara paused, her hands hovering over the various bottles on the counter. “Which scent would you prefer for your hair?”

“Sandalwood,” you replied.

Nobara nodded and poured some of the rich liquid into her hands before massaging it into your scalp. You closed your eyes, feeling the tension from the day's exhausting and dull conversations slowly melt away under her skillful fingers. “Momo mentioned that he’s often out late at night, which seems suspicious. But now that I think about it, Momo isn’t the most reliable source,” Nobara added, her tone shifting to one of skepticism.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“There’s talk that she attempted to lure another maid’s husband into an affair,” Nobara replied, her hands now working the shampoo through your hair with a practiced ease. “She even tried to gain access to his quarters.”

You gasped. “How scandalous!”

“I know,” Nobara said, her hands now massaging the back of your neck with a gentler touch. “So, who knows how much truth there is to her gossip. But still, Gojo’s behavior is less than honorable, don’t you think?”

You sighed, gazing up at the ceiling with a mix of frustration and resignation. “He was gossiping about me with other men, calling me all sorts of horrible things⸺‘simple,’ of all things. And yet, he has the audacity to want to call upon me?”

“You know,” Nobara mused as she continued her task, “He sounds the exact opposite of what some of your books would imply.”

You hummed in agreement, recalling the radical works you kept hidden beneath your bed. Your mother would be appalled if she ever discovered them, but you often sought solace in political writings that challenged the rigid expectations of society. “I know. And that is precisely why I have no intention of encouraging his attention this season—at least, not before I ensure his complete and utter humiliation.”

“But do take care. His connections to the Queen are quite strong.”

You drew back from Nobara's hands, much to her chagrin. She gave you a glare while you exclaimed, "What?"

“Surely you’re aware that the Gojo dukedom is among the closest to the royal family?”

You fervently hoped your mother hadn’t caught wind of Gojo's status. Yet, the way she had been observing you⸺subtly scrutinizing you in the drawing room while feigning interest in a suitor awaiting his turn⸺suggested otherwise. She had certainly noticed Gojo's growing interest, and the thought of her getting involved, fixating on a match with him, filled you with dread. Drawing your hands over your face, you moaned, the very notion of her scheming to pair you with Gojo weighing heavily on your mind.

“But that should hardly be a concern if you’ve begun to distance yourself from him, correct? You have been creating some distance, haven’t you?”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Nobara, ever quick to discern your hesitation, gasped in exasperation. “You cannot seriously be considering giving this gentleman any encouragement, can you?”

"No, no, it’s not that,” you replied, massaging your temples in frustration. “It’s just that my mother is probably ecstatic at the prospect of securing a match between me and Gojo.”

“But surely, if she knew the things he’s been saying behind your back, she would understand.”

You tried to open your mouth to respond, but it felt as if your throat had closed up. Would she really? A match with Gojo would mean elevated status for the Itadori family⸺a duchess for a daughter. What worth is there in being the diamond of the season if not to secure the most advantageous match? The very thought made your chest tighten with the suffocating realization that your mother might very well advocate for the union, despite Gojo’s duplicity.

“I⸺” you swallowed. “I’m not sure.” Before Nobara could interrupt, you stood up and reached for your robe. 

Nobara's brow furrowed as she watched you stand up. "Where do you think you're going? You’re not done with your bath, and your hair is still full of suds!" She reached out to stop you, her hands hovering as though unsure whether to pull you back into the tub or grab the robe you were now clutching.

You forced a small, tired smile, grateful for the distraction. “I need just a moment. The water's gone cold, anyway.”

“Oh, nonsense! You’ll catch a chill if you get out now. Sit back down,” Nobara insisted, her protest tinged with genuine concern. She placed a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back toward the warm water.

With a reluctant sigh, you allowed yourself to be coaxed back into the tub. The momentary reprieve from the conversation was a relief, and you welcomed Nobara’s determined focus on completing your bath. She picked up a sponge, her earlier frustration melting into concentration as she scrubbed your back.

“Well, we can discuss that scheming rake later,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “For now, let’s get you properly cleaned up before your mother comes looking for you. She’d never forgive me if I let you appear anything less than perfect.”

You nodded with a lump in your throat, grateful for the change in topic, even if only temporary. The soothing rhythm of Nobara's hands working through your hair, the warmth of the bathwater, and the familiar, comforting routine helped ease the tightness in your chest. For now, the troubling thoughts of Gojo and your mother's ambitions could be set aside.

“Now, hold still,” Nobara said, her tone softening as she rinsed the last of the soap from your hair. “We’ll have you looking radiant again in no time.”

The conversation was left unfinished, hanging in the air like a question that neither of you was quite ready to answer. But for now, the silence was a welcome refuge.

"Do you have any notion of how impossible it is to charm a lady when there is a pup expelling such foul air right beneath your nose?" Satoru lamented, leaning back in his chair and raking a hand through his tousled hair. The trio gathered at the table presented a rather unusual sight: Satoru, visibly discomposed; Nanami, calmly sipping his drink as ever; and Suguru, nearly doubled over in laughter at his friend’s misfortune.

“Would you please⸺SMACK⸺cease your laughing?!” Satoru glared at Suguru, who seemed to be of no hope, now with tears in his eyes as he clutched his stomach and the back of his head, which Satoru had just hit. 

“Truly, your vanity⸺haaah⸺your vanity was in need of humbling,” Suguru managed between breaths, still snickering behind his palms. 

Satoru glowered, crossing his arms and staring daggers into his drink, as if his gaze alone could break the fine glass. “My pride had already suffered enough. She was positively frigid.”

Nanami hummed. “Perhaps she’s merely discerned your true nature.”

“It defies comprehension,” Gojo groaned, ignoring Kento’s statement. “What kind of lady disparages her own beauty as ‘simple’? I cannot fathom what has caused her such vexation. Only the night before, she was utterly taken with me!”

Suguru⸺who had now calmed down⸺was in the midst of wiping his tears when he suddenly stopped. “You don’t suppose it had anything to do with your careless words, do you?”

Kento eyed the pair in front of him with an accusatory side eye. “And what precisely did you say?”

 “Satoru, in his usual fashion, could not contain his tongue. Out on the terrace, with the garden as witness, he spoke rather unkindly, referring to the diamond as ‘simple and dull.’”

“Nonsense,” Satoru waved his hands, dismissing the idea. “The lady would never wander the gardens at such an hour in the night unchaperoned.”

“I suggest you reconsider.” Kento gave him a stern look and continued, “I happened upon her last night, emerging from the gardens, and she appeared rather disheveled.” 

This revelation gave Satoru pause, but if there was one thing certain about Satoru Gojo, it was this: his arrogance was such that he could scarcely fathom anyone, least of all a lady, finding his charm anything but irresistible⸺even if that very lady had overheard him uttering defamatory remarks about her. And this lady was one he could not let go of, unless he wanted to wave good-bye to his future.

“I am confident all will be well,” Gojo exhaled, his lips curving into a Cheshire smile. “Even if she did overhear, surely a few well-chosen sweet words will surely set matters right.”

(He was most grievously mistaken.)

“How many of those biscuits do you suppose we could finish?” Yuji was eyeing the biscuits from his seat next to you in the pavilion where you and your family were sitting. Out promenading with the other families of the ton, it was a scenic and beautiful day for you to mingle with even more suitors. The joy!

“Certainly less than me,” you remarked, sipping on your tea smugly. By the irritated pout on his face, you knew you were successful at getting a rise out of your younger brother. Knowing your mother wasn’t in sight, you quickly darted for the jam-filled biscuits, and your brother quickly followed in tow; soon, you were both stuffing your faces silly with the sugary treats.

“You two are incorrigible,” Choso scrunched his nose from where he sat across from you, arms crossed. “There’s no need to inhale those biscuits. What if someone sees?”

Yuji stuck out his tongue⸺now adorned with biscuit crumbs⸺and continued gorging, while you snickered at your younger brother’s pettiness.

“Miss Itadori.”

You began coughing wildly, caught off guard, and hastily straightened your posture to greet your guest. You turned to see Lord Ino, who offered you a slight nod before acknowledging your brothers. “Lord Itadori. Mister Itadori.”

“Lord Ino, nice to meet you on such a fine day.” You try to put a smile on your face as best as you can, even though you were caught off guard. “How do you find today’s weather?” 

Takuma grabs the back of your hand to kiss it. “I find it wonderful for the prospect of promenading. Do you care to do so with me?”

“Of course,” You stand up and link your elbows with Takuma’s.

“We’ll be thirty paces behind you, sister.” You both turned to look at Choso, who was giving Lord Ino his inevitable protective glare. Given Ino’s acceptable station, Choso hadn’t immediately protested, unlike the many suitors he had chased out of your manor the day before. He grabbed Yuji by the elbow, who, with cheeks comically inflated like a chipmunk hoarding acorns, was promptly dragged away. “Yuji, get up.” The last you saw of your brothers was Yuji’s futile protests, his mouth too full to be coherent⸺inevitably sending some crumbs flying onto Choso⸺and Choso swatting him for it.

As you began your walk with Lord Ino, the conversation naturally turned to the upcoming horse race. “Are you looking forward to the race this afternoon?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

“I am,” the lord replied. “And you?”

“Very much so,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice. “I have a feeling that the less popular horse⸺Blaze, was it?⸺might surprise everyone. The conditions seem just right for an underdog victory; the track is soft and warm, which would favor Blaze’s build.”

Lord Ino glanced at you with a polite but unconvinced smile. “But Thunder has higher odds and more bets. It’s as simple as that.”

You couldn’t help but bristle at the word “simple,” a word that had recently come to grate on your nerves. You pressed on, though, determined to keep the conversation pleasant. “I suppose there’s some truth to that, but sometimes there’s more to a race than just the odds and popularity.”

Ino chuckled softly. “Well, a good mentor and friend of mine⸺Duke Nanami⸺agrees with the odds, and His Grace is someone I deeply respect. I tend to follow his lead⸺the duke has a way of teaching lessons without hindering one’s growth.”

Before you could respond, the sound of a trumpet blared in the distance, signaling the start of the race. You looked at him, giving him a courteous nod, gesturing in the general direction Choso and Yuji were supposed to be in. “It seems the race is about to begin. I must rejoin my family.”

You curtsied as he bowed, and you watched as he walked away, leaving you momentarily alone. You took a deep breath, trying to dispel the lingering irritation from the conversation. Just as you began looking for your family, you felt a presence approaching.

You turned to find Lady Mei Mei and her entourage closing in. Their expressions were a study in artful contempt, laced with curiosity and barely concealed amusement. The atmosphere between you was thick with unspoken competition, each woman silently gauging the other’s position on the social ladder. 

“Miss Itadori, what a nice surprise!” Lady Mei Mei remarked, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “It appears you are alone and unchaperoned in a garden yet again! At least, according to what the rumors say. Was it part of yet another one of your charming ploys to get what you want?"

You met her gaze with cool composure, not giving her the satisfaction of a visible reaction. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

Lady Mei Mei tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if appraising a particularly interesting specimen. "Really?" she mused, drawing out the word as though savoring it. "It’s just that Lord Gojo hasn’t spoken with you all day. Even if Whistledown commended you in the last issue, I wouldn’t expect his interest to linger." The two ladies flanking her⸺unremarkable save for their sycophantic attachment to Mei Mei⸺giggled behind their fans, as though she had delivered a crushing blow.

You allowed yourself a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. "So I’m assuming he called upon you?" you questioned sweetly, your voice laced with feigned politeness.

For a fleeting moment, Lady Mei Mei’s carefully curated composure slipped, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing her face before she regained control. She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper meant for you alone. “None of the suitors will be interested in you any longer. The Queen may have mistakenly proclaimed you the diamond, but a pretty face, empty smiles, and hollow words can only last so long.”

“Whatever would be most convenient for you to believe.” Her words were empty and her threats dull, but you couldn’t help but let it compound on the irritation you had experienced today. But you knew better than to let your tongue loose; you were quite impulsive when you had started, and you didn’t want to start any scandal anytime soon. Instead, you held your ground, trying to maintain your composure (outwardly, at least) as Lady Mei Mei and her entourage turned to leave, their laughter echoing in your ears. 

You tried to implement a few things your tutor had ingrained in you: taking deep breaths and setting your posture correctly. However, as you stood there, collecting yourself, the last thing you needed seemed to manifest before you: Satoru Gojo.

His tall figure approached you with that familiar, self-assured stride, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Ah, Miss Itadori," he greeted, a sly smile playing on his lips. You were already irritated, and it took all your will-power to stifle a groan. 

"I couldn’t help but notice you were conversing with Lord Ino," he remarked casually.

Give him a smile. "Indeed, we were enjoying a promenade. It is, after all, what young ladies and their suitors are expected to do."

“Quite the choice in company!”

KEEP up the smile.  "He is a nobleman, and I am of noble descent. I fail to see your point, Mr. Gojo." 

Gojo’s smile was quick and cutting. “Oh, I’ve no particular quarrel with Lord Ino. It’s simply that he’s hardly the sort I’d expect to see on your arm. After all, he’s practically Nanami’s lapdog.”

You felt the familiar irritation rising within you⸺and you were fighting for your life trying to keep a smile on your face⸺but you kept your tone measured. "And what, pray tell, are you implying by that, Mr. Gojo?"

"It’s quite simple, really⸺" 

But your patience, already worn thin, snapped at that word.

"My good sir, do you not think it rather dishonorable to speak ill of others behind their backs?" Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. "It’s curious how quickly opinions can change, is it not? Just the other evening, you seemed to hold me in rather low regard. Tell me, do you often dismiss people as ‘simple’ when they fail to meet any of the lofty expectations you have set? Or do you perhaps truly believe yourself to be at a station higher than others?"

Gojo stiffened, the smile slipping from his face as your words hit their mark. Before he could respond, Choso appeared at your side, his protective presence a welcome relief.

“Is there any problem, sister?” Choso asked, his tone polite yet firm as he glanced at Satoru, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Gojo’s gaze flicked to Choso, his irritation clear as he opened his mouth to make a cutting remark, and you couldn’t thank the gods enough for Choso’s mother hen tendencies. But the words faltered when he recognized who had interrupted. For a brief moment, surprise flashed in his eyes before he masked it with a tight-lipped smile.

You seized the moment, turning to Satoru with a sweet smile. “I think our time is up, Mister Gojo,” you said, your voice laced with venom.

Satoru hesitated for just a fraction of a second before nodding curtly, his expression unreadable. “Of course. Until next time, Miss Itadori.”

With that, he stepped back, allowing you and Choso to walk away toward where people were gathering for the race. As you moved through the crowd, you could feel Satoru’s gaze lingering on you, but you didn’t look back.

“That horse appears rather stout, does it not?” Yuji squinted against the blazing sun as he observed the horses from his seat beside you in the grandstand. “Why has it garnered so many bets?”

Choso, seated protectively on your other side, kept a steady arm linked with yours. His presence was reassuring, though your irritation was directed at the figure seated just below you. Satoru Gojo, to your endless chagrin, was sitting with Lady Mei Mei, who had all but forced her way into the seat beside him. Though he tried to appear indifferent, his signature flirty remarks flowing with ease, you noticed the subtle signs of irritation crossing his face. Whether it stemmed from Lady Mei Mei's advances or from your earlier exchange, you couldn't be sure. You refused to meet his gaze, though you could feel his eyes on you intermittently as the crowd waited for the race to begin.

“Men can be quite foolish at times,” you remarked hotly, your voice carrying just enough to be overheard. “Some people value the superficial and materialistic over true substance, much like they do with horses. Blaze, for instance, has the qualities that truly matter.”

You could almost feel Gojo’s gaze intensify, and despite yourself, you glanced in his direction. Lady Mei Mei, ever the actress, feigned a stumble, exclaiming with a coy smile, “These crowds are rather rough on a lady!”

You scoffed inwardly at her transparent attempt to press her bosom against Gojo’s arm.

“Oh my,” Gojo drawled, his voice oozing concern. “We can’t have that, can we?” Ever the gallant gentleman, he interlaced his arm with hers. “Here, for extra protection. I wouldn’t want a pretty lady shedding tears beside me.”

Mei Mei’s smirk was as satisfied as a serpent after a meal, and she batted her eyelashes coquettishly. “If I were to cry, would you console me?”

“Of course,” Gojo replied smoothly. “Though I might find myself crying should my horse lose. The bets I’ve placed are rather substantial.”

A flirtatious giggle escaped Mei Mei’s lips. “Then I shall cheer with all my might, so you needn’t suffer any losses, my lord.”

You were perilously close to tearing your hair out.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, my lady,” Gojo said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with exaggerated flourish. “But rest assured, I am quite confident of a victory today. Thunder is swift and cunning, far superior to that... other horse. It’s simple, really—Thunder will win.”

Your composure cracked. “Yuji,” you called, your voice sharp. Your brother, who had been lost in thought, snapped to attention. “Despite the other horse’s popularity, Blaze possesses the one quality universal to all champions: speed and diligence. The track conditions are in its favor.”

Yuji, caught off guard, blinked in confusion. “Yes, of course, sister,” he mumbled, clearly unsure of why you were addressing him.

“And anyone who thinks otherwise,” you continued, raising your voice slightly, “is bound to lose their money. Sorely and simply.”

Gojo matched your tone, his voice ringing out. “But of course, it’s all in good fun. There’s no need for hostility over a sport, is there? Both horses are fine contenders, though I remain convinced Thunder shall emerge victorious.”

Mei Mei tittered, parroting his sentiments, but you could hardly see straight for the anger coursing through you. Unable to hold back, you retorted, “However, it is, after all, still a race. And Blaze will win.”

By now, your exchange had drawn the attention of those around you, including your brothers. Choso and Yuji exchanged puzzled glances before Yuji asked weakly, “Are you still talking to us, sister?” Meanwhile, Choso’s protective instincts flared, his gaze darting suspiciously between you and Gojo.

Before you could reply, the horses lined up at the starting gate, and the crowd collectively rose to their feet, including Gojo. “Steady now, Thunder!” he called out, his voice brimming with confidence.

Not to be outdone, you shouted, “Come on, Blaze!”

The bell rang, and the horses surged forward, the crowd erupting in cheers. Blaze and Thunder quickly pulled ahead, the two horses locked in a fierce battle for the lead. Thunder was currently ahead, its sleek form cutting through the track with precision.

“Steady, Thunder! Keep the lead!” Gojo’s voice was full of excitement, urging his horse onward.

Your heart raced with frustration as Blaze lagged slightly behind. “You can do this, Blaze!” you urged, your voice rising above the din. Without thinking, you began whistling sharply, drawing alarmed looks from your brothers. The stares from the crowd meant nothing to you as you focused solely on the race.

Blaze, as if responding to your encouragement, began to accelerate, its powerful strides eating up the ground between it and Thunder. You noticed Thunder’s pace faltering, fatigue setting in, while Blaze surged ahead, pulling into the lead with a quarter of the race remaining.

Now it was Gojo’s turn to whistle, his voice tinged with desperation. “Straight to the finish line, Thunder! Don’t let up!”

But Blaze only widened the gap, its momentum carrying it farther ahead. You couldn’t contain your laughter, a joyous sound that bubbled up from within as Blaze crossed the finish line first, with Thunder trailing behind.

“Goddamn it,” Gojo cursed under his breath, his frustration palpable. You clapped your hands in delight, your laughter ringing out.

With deliberate grace, you placed your hands on your hips and turned to Gojo, flashing him a triumphant smile. “I’m so glad the ‘simple’ horse won,” you said, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “It seems I’ve finally bested a duke.”

Gojo’s blue eyes bore into you, their intensity searing, but you met his glare with a boisterous laugh, savoring the victory as the crowd’s cheers and claps echoed around you. Until it was only the two of you, staring each other down.

Gojo ⸺ 0, you ⸺ 1.

Now, Duchess Gojo had always had a penchant for gossip, no one escaping her eye and observation. Of course, it was now the Whistledown era, for the unknown author could observe far more than the high-profile duchess, who was the receiver of much praise and attention due to her son’s eligibility. But this eligibility had only been achieved because of her ability to direct the tide based on her reconnaissance, and in all her years, no could match her sass and direction. Except one. 

"You know, Lady Itadori," the Duchess remarked, her tone laced with feigned pensiveness, "the Gojo manor in the countryside has been dreadfully quiet, and, if I may say, it has been quite some time since we last enjoyed a proper tête-à-tête.”

The two ladies stood together near the stands, choosing a more secluded spot from which to observe the horse race. Lady Itadori, her closest confidante, met the Duchess’s gaze with a gleam in her eye. "Indeed, I must agree."

For a moment, the two women stood in silence, their eyes surveying the scene before them. From the ladies flirting shamelessly to the gentlemen scrambling for the favor of the season’s debutantes, they were like spectators at a grand circus. Yet, their attention was drawn to a particular act.

Raising her fan to her lips, Lady Itadori whispered conspiratorially to the Duchess, "I might add, my diamond has been spending a considerable amount of time in your son’s company."

The Duchess met her friend’s eyes and laughed lightly. "How many days do you wager it will take in the manor?"

Lady Itadori, now fully smirking, gave a delicate shrug. "It took you and the Duke but four days."

prev. the debutante | next. the manor

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n: reader is hearing boss music rn

forced proximity whatttt

gojo when kuna ripped one in his face

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

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@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

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@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[buckets-and-trees]

Devour: HEAT (4/4)

Collection: DEVOUR Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!James Buchanan Barnes x Chef Female!Reader Word Count: 7k

Summary: James returns from business in another city with the intention of spending the morning with you, more than a few surprises up his sleeve, whether you're ready for them or not.

Content & Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT - somnophilia, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, vibrating dildo, anal plug, brief masturbation, unprotected vaginal intercourse, double penetration, creampie. Feelings, so many feelings.

Logistical Notes: Salt, fat, acid, and now heat - this is the long-awaited final chapter of their series. Happy Mob Boss Monday!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You were vaguely aware of feeling much cooler than you should as you registered your hip being nudged so you were lying flat against the mattress. You were still clinging to slumber, not fully roused to the world of the waking, so you didn’t move when you felt the flat edge of a knife slipped between your skin and the silk of your panties, and you didn’t react to the snick of the clean cut of fabric over your right hip and then the left. You weren’t interested as someone peeled away the exquisite and expensive piece of underwear.

Though your legs were slightly open after being shifted from your side to your back, there was another gentle push against your leg to open your thighs a little more. Distantly something stirred in you as fingers gently caressed up your thigh and to your pussy laid bare to the morning sun. Those fingers began to gently play with your folds, eliciting wetness at your entrance. One finger gave a whisper of a press into your vaginal opening a few times, drawing a soft, short, breathy moan from you, and you subconsciously parted your legs further.

For all of that you were drowsy and docile.

The warm fingers left you for a moment, and then there was a cool pressure against your cunt, the sudden temperature change prompting a small sleepy, “Oh,” from you. More of the cool, firm pressure was applied, and then the sudden vibration of the cool object against your clit jolted you awake, eyes flying open and torso contracting suddenly upwards from the bed.

That dark, deep chuckle that always flooded you with heat poured into your ears, and a strong, now-familiar, calloused hand smoothed over your stomach and forced you gently but firmly back onto the mattress.

“James,” you keened.

“I’m disappointed,” he tutted, then pressed a kiss just above your knee.

“What?”

You racked your brain – not an easy feat when you were only just coming into consciousness for the day and being accosted with teasing pleasure at your core – but you couldn’t think of anything he could be disappointed in. Not with that tone, not with you, but he seemed genuinely disappointed. You detected even a tenor of anger in his tone.

“You’ve left some of my gifts entirely untouched,” he explained, pressing the vibrator insistently against your clit.

You groaned, and the heat of embarrassment surged rampantly through your body along with the pleasure. Your hands flew to your face, and you tried to close your legs, but he held them firmly open to his ministrations.

You knew immediately what he was talking about and what exactly was between your legs.

A sleek, black dildo that you’d only looked at for a few seconds before slamming the box shut again – long enough to register that it was a size you’d bet dimes to dollars was close in size to the cock of the man who sent it to you. Were you having copious amount of sex with notorious mob boss James Buchanan Barnes? Yes. Were you wearing the high-end bras and underwear he spoiled you with, a constant reminder of the intimate place he was establishing in your life? Yes. But using the sex toys he had selected and sent to you was the line you’d drawn at too intimate.

And now instead of using it solo, the man had the audacity to torture you with it himself.

And the torture was exquisite.

Six weeks of this man, and your body knew when to yield and drip for him. He had prepared your pussy, coaxed enough wetness, to take the dildo with ease even through the intrusion of its size, lacing the discomfort with pleasure. You moaned as he finished driving it in to the hilt. He played with the angle, pushing it up and back, teasing you with different points of pressure that made you pant and cant your hips.

“Feel good?” He asked in a smug tone.

“Yes,” you huffed, knowing he knew how you felt and only wanted you to admit it out loud for his own satisfaction. But if you didn’t, he’d delay your satisfaction, and audacious bastard though he might be, you craved him now, and delighted in the indulgence of him. “More, James, more.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Chef.”

And he did. Immediately.

He twisted the dildo, then pulled it halfway out before pushing it back into your slick channel. You closed your eyes, but you knew he watched your face closely for what made you feel good, adjusting his pace until your breath hitched and you clutched the sheets. Then he kept that pace and only applied a bit of additional force in the thrusts.

He drove you on and on until he finally pushed you over the edge, and you gave a sharp cry of ecstasy.

He worked the toy in your cunt just a bit more, making you twitch in response, and then he crawled up your body and you pulled him in for a few heated kisses.

“What are you doing here, James Buchanan Barnes?”

Though you had spent increasingly more time with him, this was the first time he’d been to your apartment. It was small and modest, and you were in no way ashamed (since he had also started to regularly send either a housekeeper or cleaning staff of some kind to take care of you place, you also weren’t worried about any mess), but you were surprised.

“I know it’s your day off.”

You chewed lightly on your bottom lip.

“And I know that look,” he continued with a smirk. “You’re not quite happy with me. I’ve shown up unannounced when I know you have plans and certainly have intentions for your unplanned time, but I wanted to see you this morning. Give me breakfast and then I promise to let you send me away as soon as you want.”

He kissed you again.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips.

“Mmm, missed you, too.” You wrapped your arms around him, pleased that he’d stripped down to his boxer briefs before joining you in your bed. “Breakfast would be nice.”

He grinned and then continued the kiss. You encouraged him, eagerly wrapping your arms around his neck and chest. You hitched a leg up around his hip, and then groaned when he pressed his bulge into your core as it pushed against the dildo still lodged inside of you.

He chuckled again, then reached down and drew out the black silicone in one slow pull. There was no ignoring the sound it made, the shlick as it came out of your messy cunt.

Then he drew it up to your mouth.

“Lick it,” he said.

Eyes locked with his, you stuck out your tongue and he slid it slowly over it. Then he set it aside and resumed kissing you, purposely circling his tongue around yours, sharing the taste of your arousal in your mouth. He groaned his approval and plundered your mouth for long enough that both of your chests were heaving against each other when he pulled away. James slowly pressed hot kisses over your face – softly on each of your closed eyes, your cheeks, your nose, you chin, your forehead, then back down to your lips. You pressed your forehead to his and sighed in sleepy contentment. You twined your fingers with his at your hip. He rutted his hard cock insistently against your core, watching your face. And he kept at it until you were all but begging for him.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“Good, I’m ready to fill you up.”

But you whimpered as his actions immediately indicated the opposite as he abruptly rolled off you and slid out of bed.

“What? What are you-“

“Breakfast.” He smirked down at you, already pulling on a pair of lounge pants. “Going to fill you up with breakfast. What did you think I meant?”

You groaned at the blatant mischief in his eyes and hurled a pillow at him. He caught it with ease, laughed, and tossed it back to your bed as he left your bedroom. “See you in the kitchen,” he called back.

“Handsome bastard,” you grumbled as you rolled out of bed and padded along after him. You grabbed the silk robe hanging off the back of your door on your way, knotting and trying it off around your waist.

The incredible smell of some kind of warm bread hit you as you stepped out of your room. You inhaled deeply and moved more quickly, drawn by the heavenly scent, but you paused on seeing him in the kitchen. You had expected to see him at most plating up something that he’d brought or had delivered.

That was not the case.

Instead, he stood behind the counter next to your stove, handling ingredients that had come from a small crate like he was on a Food Network show.

He glanced up. “Yes, I’m cooking for you. Sit and relax,” he said, gesturing at the stool on the other side of the counter.

“James Buchanan Barnes, did you actually bake something?”

You tried to sidle into the actual kitchen, but he quickly blocked you off with his broad body.

“I. Am. Cooking. For. You.” He paused between each word, his tone serious.

“Are you really barring me from my own kitchen?”

You tilted your head up and fixed him with a look half amusement, half incredulity.

He leaned in, cupped your face in both of his hands, and kissed you soundly until you melted against his chest. When he pulled back, your lips chased his.

“Let me take care of you,” his words were gentle but firm, spoken tenderly against your lips.

One last indulgent kiss, and then he turned you around by your shoulders, and you finally did as you were told and took the seat across the counter from him.

James reached for an English muffin out of a small basket on the counter, split it open easily with a knife, and then buttered it. The butter melted immediately, and you grinned.

“You made English muffins from scratch?”

“You never dreamed I could cook on top of everything else – too good to be true?” He winked and you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Try it,” he said and slid you a small plate with half the muffin on it, taking a bite out of the half he kept back.

You lifted the bread to your lips and gingerly took a bite. It was soft, warm, and beyond the smooth tang of the melted butter that bled through the crumb, the taste far surpassed any English muffin that you could buy at the store. You let out a content hum, and your shoulders relaxed, the delight from the simplicity of the rich flavors in your mouth flooding your body with serotonin.

James smiled, just a hint of his cocky confidence lacing it, and then he got to work, filling a saucepan with water and setting it on the stove to bring it up to a simmer. He pulled more supplies from his box as you watched. Butter, lemon, eggs.

Given that your life was devoted to food and cooking, this was a bold gesture - and one no one you had ever been involved with had attempted. They were either too lazy or too intimidated or too dim to realize that even though you could cook, someone taking care of you in this way was a beautiful and indulgent gift.

“When did you get back?” you asked. He’d been gone for three days, but you hadn’t expected him back in the city until tomorrow.

He looked over at the clock on the wall. “Two hours ago.”

You blinked.

“You come straight here?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed in the affirmative without looking up from the frying pan as he slapped a healthy amount of butter onto its surface and set that on the stove as well.

Your heart soared, beating happily, and you folded your arms and rested them on the counter, leaning forward on your stool. The corners of your mouth unable to do anything but smile. You saw his mouth had relaxed into a soft smile as well.

While the butter melted, he separated yolks from egg whites, and beat them together in a glass bowl. When the pot of water was steaming, he took the glass bowl with the egg yolks and set it over top of the saucepan and continued to whisk them.

Now you knew what he was making.

“Eggs Benedict?” you asked.

“It’s one of your favorites.”

“How did you know?”

“I know more about you than you give me credit for.”

You didn’t want to touch that yet, but perhaps later, you thought.

“You’ve ordered it a few times when we’ve been out for brunch. It’s also one of my specialties.”

“Homemade English muffins, whipping up a hollandaise without much effort… you can actually cook,” you remarked.

He kept his focus on incorporating the butter into the yolks properly, but still responded. “You somehow continue to underestimate me in many areas, Chef.”

That assertion nudged your conscience a little, but his tone was teasing, so you kept the level of banter going. “You still have to successfully poach the eggs and make sure your hollandaise doesn’t split. But if you manage to pull it off, I might have to take you back to bed after breakfast.”

He chuckled, and your core rumbled a little.

You sat with rapt attention and watched. You didn’t scrutinize, but it crossed your mind that there were probably very few men who would have had the self-assurance to cook in front of you without worrying or getting irritated, even though you knew you weren’t judging, only interested in observing someone else at your craft.

And as you sat, you did turn over his comment in your head – that you were underestimating him.

It had been seven weeks since everything started with this mob boss. He had insinuated himself into many aspects of your life, but as you navigated whatever it was that was developing between you two, most of the time his intrusions were welcome, if somewhat hesitantly by you at first - like fully exchanging your intimates, or hiring a housekeeper for your apartment (you had yet to see them, and you had to confess it felt nice to have some work eliminated from your plate). He had been incredibly aggressive about folding himself into many aspects in your life. Some of the evolution of this relationship had been thrilling, had you giddy, or quite simply stunned over the moments of softness or seeming adoration. Through any of the challenges, James had been open to any wants and needs you expressed when you brought them to his attention. What’s more, there hadn’t been many things to address with him – the time he spent with you wasn’t merely additional hours clocked, but as you looked back you had to confess it was time he spent truly getting to know you.  

You craved him almost constantly, and in so many ways, but had you gotten caught up in trying to preserve yourself?

The morning after the first night you’d slept together and stayed the night at his penthouse, you had been able to dress out of the closet he had already stocked for you. While a little shocking, it had not ultimately been surprising. It had bordered on overwhelming. The novelty and spoiling had been fun and flattering. That he had been able to stock a closet so well-suited to your taste and needs had been the part that edged toward the overwhelming side, but you ignored the more serious parts of the grand gesture, classified it as yet another audacious choice, not a sign of his knowing you or the clear signal that he was ready to have you seriously embedded in his life – in his home. He hadn’t said anything or even insinuated that you should move in, he just let that closet of clothes exist for you. It was a statement, but not a demand.

Aside from the housekeeper he’d started to send around to your place, he also had enlisted some kind of laundry service to take care of more of your needs, and last week before he left for his business trip he personally slipped a black card into your wallet.

“There,” your mob boss declared, spinning the two plated masterpieces toward you. “These would certainly be approved for service, would they not, Chef?”

You were impressed. “They look stunning. Final judgement at the table.”

You started to reach for one of the plates, but James tutted at you and carried them both over to the table, seating you at the corner next to each other where place settings had already been laid out. He was thorough, including going back to the fridge to retrieve a carafe of juice.

“And did you press this by hand?” you asked as he poured a glass for each of you.

He laughed. “No, I didn’t have time to grow and harvest the fruit myself, so it felt like cheating. This is the one my home chef keeps on hand for me.”

“I do like your chef. Do you think I could steal them for my restaurant?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he took his seat next to you. “Enough. Eat.”

You took up your knife and fork and made the first, signature cut into the egg draped with its silky hollandaise sauce. The yolk oozed, slow and gorgeous. “That’s a top tier poach,” you shot the praise truthfully.

James smiled and watched as you lifted the first bite to your mouth.

“Mmm,” you hummed, your eyes closing momentarily. “Nothing beats a beautiful benedict.”

“Success,” he crooned, finally digging into his own dish. He didn’t ask if for further accolades, didn’t ply you for more praise, again speaking to his nature – confident, perhaps too confident at times, but sure of himself.

After your second bite, you still reaffirmed your assessment. “Really, James, the sauce is the perfect consistency, and that English muffin could have carried the whole dish on its own if the rest had been just okay.”

He squeezed your thigh under the table. “Thank you.”

The two of you eat in silence for a few moments before James spoke again. “Where’s your lovely head this morning? You went somewhere while I was cooking.”

You looked at him, tilting your head while you chewed. His blue eyes, strong, piercing, warm, captivating, looked directly into yours. He really did see you in more ways than you had been giving him credit for.

Being with this man for the past seven weeks had changed something in you. Over the years you had learned to be direct and go after what you want, but not in romantic endeavors. When you were younger, you didn’t have the skills, experience, or confidence. Over the past few years, you had been clear and direct in the rare forays into talking or dates, but there had been nothing long or meaningful enough to require directness and vulnerability from you. You had been able to be direct with James, but you had skirted around being exposed to some of the moments of vulnerability.

But there was not much more skirting that you could do.

James had shown he was willing to show up.

It was time for you to do the same.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said – that I’ve been underestimating you. I think… You might be right.”

James leaned forward, reached for your hand, and brought it to his lips. He murmured your name softly against the palm of your hand and then pressed a long kiss there. You took a breath to calm your suddenly racing heart. “I know who I am. I don’t blame you having certain ideas of who that is or putting on your own armor to keep yourself safe.”

He let your hands fall to the table but kept a tight hold on your fingers.

“I ate at Devour for the first time a few months ago. The food was immaculate. I was looking to invest in new ventures and diversify my portfolio, so I started looking into buying the restaurant. It had a good track record, its reputation had been steadily growing, the location was prime, the service impeccable. The only point of debate that came back in my team’s assessment of whether to buy the establishment was our discovery the head chef was retiring.

“You were the heir apparent and confirmed successor, so we researched you, too. Clean background, solid career building; I saw that you were pretty, but that was immaterial – merely a PR bonus if we wanted to generate more buzz for the restaurant at any point. We ordered out and dined in many times the month leading up to your takeover so that we could have a solid handle on the standard we expected and could gage if there would be any significant changes night one.

“A third of the dining room that night was filled with my people. You introduced a few new dishes to the menu, bit it was conclusive all around that the quality had been maintained, and nothing had fundamentally changed. I walked in that night planning to make my purchase as long as I was satisfied, and I was.

“The last thing I wanted was to see the new head chef face to face before making the deal so I could get a sense of who you were off the page and beyond your plates.”

“I remember being summoned to a table rather inconveniently on the biggest night of my career,” you interjected.

He chuckled. “And I could see that fire in your demeanor. It confirmed my purchasing decision, but it also made me want to devour you.”

And he had. He had temporarily dismissed your staff, told you he was tripling your salary, and then roughly sexed you up according to his pleasure – giving you some of the best sex you’d had, but not because you wanted it that night, only because he had.

“New business acquisition, new girl,” you teased. But it was defensive.

He grunted and shook his head. “No. You’ve invested so much of yourself into your career and the restaurant that you assume they’d be tied together, but they’re not. To me there was the restaurant and then there was you. I only played my hand to my advantage to keep you there. If you’d walked after that night, I would’ve gone looking for you.”

You frowned at him, but he continued before you could argue.

“You weren’t easy. There are so few people in my life who don’t bow or bend to me, I wanted more of that.”

“You wanted the challenge?”

“No, more than the challenge, I wanted you for your strength. I was the mob boss you thought I was that night, but then you turned me into a man – demanded I be a version of myself who was worthy of you if I wanted more, and I did want more of you. You stopped making time for men because they kept disappearing or disappointing, didn’t you?”

You sighed.

He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Neither of us are content with easy. You wanted someone to romance and adore you, but you also needed someone who would challenge you, meet you stride for stride.”

“Don’t be smug,” you said.

“I told you the first night we slept together, I’m not smug about you. After things started unfolding between us, you drew me in. I wanted more than just sex. I knew I could get that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he shook his head and put a finger to your lips. “We were both eager for it – those first encounters, and especially the first night together, now let me finish.”

You huffed, but you knew he wasn’t wrong. The sex had been heated and irresistible every time.

“I think you’ve worried more than you needed to over whether I want you, or if I knew what I was getting into.”

It was like he was reading pages of your most private thoughts. His eyes were impossibly intense now, and it made your chest ache.

“This has never been about someone to warm my bed. I’m too busy, and my life was just fine before. I want you, and, yes, glorious amounts of sex with you, but it’s your passion and your spirit I crave. You’ve seen me for more than who you thought I was in the beginning.”

“You’re remarkable, I couldn’t help being drawn to you,” you confessed. You’d called him audacious so many times, but that was only one facet of James Buchanan Barnes. He was passionate, intelligent, bold, calculating, and decisive. 

“You’ve let down some of your guards around and let me in, and because you do, I let you see pieces no one else knows. We’re swimming in deeper waters with each other all the time.”

You brought your hand up to his cheek and kissed him fiercely but briefly, needing to feel his lips on yours for a moment. You wanted so much more, but you knew he wasn’t finished, so you drew back.

He drew both your hands into his, resting them on the table between you two.

“I knew that if I ever married, I wanted a partner, not another yes person. The more time I’m with you, the more my soul hungers for you to be that part of my life. I want your company, your opinions, your soft snores, your teasing, your ideas. I’m insatiable for you, in every way. The first night I knew I wanted you, but that second night I saw in you my wife.”

“Your wife?” you gasped, your jaw going slack with surprise. But you didn’t make another sound or even a movement as his words swirled every thought in your head.

He waited, eyes still locked on yours. It was more than a full minute of silence before he finally spoke again. “Eventually, yes. Does that scare you?”

“No,” you said, without hesitation.

His words had brought you back and seemingly brought your frenzied thoughts into alignment. The only potential barrier your brain identified was time. But he wasn’t asking you to marry him right now, he was only asking if you were scared of potentially being his wife.

And that didn’t scare you.

Truthfully you would have cut things off if there had been any moment you didn’t see a long way down the road with him – you’d done it plenty of times with men before. Like him, you were too busy to trifle with men just to be coupled. You’d fought not only to make something of yourself in your career, but to make something of yourself in your life so that you didn’t need to be in a relationship to be happy.

“It doesn’t scare me either,” he said.

Then he swept his napkin from his lap, laid it on the table, and, in no rush, pushed back his chair and stood up from the table. He tugged on your hand gently, invitingly, nodding toward the hall and back to your bedroom.

Your head and your heart were full – clear but full – so you let James take the lead.

His hands moved deftly and delicately as they untied the knot of your silk tie of your robe, then pushed it down off your shoulders, letting his fingers skim enticingly over your skin, and turned to hang it on the back of your bedroom door. Next his hand found the hem of your silk chemise and pulled it up you’re your hips, and you lifted your arms so he could sweep it clean up off your body. He set it gently on the end of your dresser before turning back to you. Then he stepped closer than he had been before, cupped your jaw in both hands, and lowered his face to capture your lips in another kiss. Slow, warmth and fire behind it, but still no rush. You slanted your mouth against his and darted your tongue out to tempt entrance, which he granted, licking into your mouth in kind.

From the very beginning, whether they were slow or frenzied, his kisses have always been so passionate they were intoxicating, and you never wanted that to end between the two of you.

You craved him almost constantly, and in so many ways. He had seeped into your bones and your veins and so many of your waking thoughts, like the thrumming undercurrent of your heartbeat.

James eased you back slowly until the backs of your knees hit the bed, and he gently urged you back. “Get up there for me,” his voice husky and his pupils taking over his blue irises.

You scooted as smoothly as you could manage until you were most of the way up the bed, not wanting to put distance between you, but knowing it wouldn’t last long. You leaned back on your elbows, a slight shiver running down your spine as your eyes met James’ gaze, drinking in the full form of your naked body – far from the first time he’s seen it over the past few weeks, but the intensity still affected you, there was still vulnerability of newness in this relationship.

James pulled the soft t-shirt up and off his torso. Then, not looking away from you, he pushed down his lounge pants and stepped out of them. The sight of his thick, hard cock made your breath hitch, eager to feel the way he stretched and filled you up, but he remained rooted to his spot and began slowly pumping one hand up and down his length while he looked at you.

“Spread your legs for me, love,” he said.

You gasped because it was the first time either of you had vocalized the word to each other.

“I do,” he confirmed, “I love you.”

“James…”

He smiled. “Now, show me that pretty cunt, my love.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you let your legs drop open like a butterfly.

He moaned appreciatively and continued to slowly stroke his cock as he stepped forward. “Pretty and wet and mine.”

He joined you on the bed, quickly slotting his large form in the cradle of your thighs. He pressed heated kisses along your collarbone, but you guided his head up to yours.

“I love you, too,” you murmured fervently against his lips.

His eyes flared with happiness and satisfaction - a look you had grown familiar with, and one you relished in knowing you caused.

As he kissed you again, he propped himself up on one arm by your head, but his other hand landed on your puffy and dripping folds to lavish languid attention, not designed to drive you to orgasm, but only to dole out pleasure while his expert fingers played with your body. As ever, you were simultaneously eager for more but ready to relish the experience.

While James had you pinned down with the weight of his body, eventually you began to squirm and rock your hips, seeking more. Soft mewls tumbled out of you, and you scratched your nails down his broad back.

“Need,” you gasped when he broke off the kiss.

He pecked your lips to cut you off. “I know what you need.”

He pushed himself up, grabbed a pillow, placed it down next to your hip. You hummed as he and rolled you over and onto the pillow, propping your hips up for him. Spreading your knees with his, he knelt behind you. You stretched your right arm up above your head, grasping at the sheets to steady yourself for whatever he had in store for you next, and reached your left hand back, silently seeking his hand to twine with your, which he complied with, settling your entwined fingers together at your hip. Meanwhile, his free hand passed soothingly up and down the length of your right side, from knee to ribs, down and up and down again. He planted kisses from the base of your spine up to your neck, and it was so soft and intimate your eyes welled with tears, nearly overwhelmed with just how adored this unhurried worshipful moment made you feel. You blinked back the moisture in your eyes and focused on breathing.

His kisses continued up the side of your neck, and when he suddenly nipped at your ear, you laughed and swatted playfully at him.

He rolled away from you, and a whine of protest escaped your throat.

James chuckled.

“Just a moment,” he reassured you as he reached for something on the bedside table. You heard a small click you couldn’t place, then some other soft sounds of movement. When he rolled back to face you, you looked down to see what he’d retrieved.

You gasped and then looked back up to his face immediately, heat rising in your neck and cheeks.

But it wasn’t embarrassment that you felt, it was the rush of trepidatious arousal, hesitant because this was an area you’d never ventured in the sexual realm.

In his hand was the smallest from a set of platinum anal plugs set with sapphires, and it was prepared with lube.

“Oh,” the soft syllable fell from your lips.

“Trust me?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded.

He squeezed your hand, and you squeezed back. Then he released your hand and settled back to his kneeling position between your splayed thighs again. He caressed the swell of your ass, first one cheek, then the other. His thumbs spread your crack open, and gently nudged at the tight ring of muscle at your entrance a few times before he placed the rounded metal end of the plug at the puckering.

“Relax, let me feel you breathe,” he said. You took a deep breath in. Out. And with your next breath in, he pushed the plug softly in. You held your breath as he slowly finished slotting it inside of you. Then he was up near your cheek, nuzzling you softly. “How does that feel?”

You took a beat to think before answering. “Full.” You breathed in and out again. “Good.”

You felt him grin against your skin. “Good.”

His thumb lightly tapped against the jeweled end, and your breath hitched slightly. He waited a moment, tapped again, and again your breath hitched. He chuckled. “So responsive, love.”

You huffed and burrowed your face into the sheets.

“But still good?” he checked in.

“Yes,” you groaned. The feeling of your tight hole being full was unbelievably intense because it was so foreign, so insistent, so much. The plug provided an ever-present push, and the more moments that passed, the more your body latched onto it the rush. It laced every thought. His light taps on the plug had jolted that pleasure, giving it sharp, blissful pulses.

Another laugh at your reluctant acknowledgement. “I’ll stop teasing,” he promised. “For now,” he added.

He lined up the tip of his cock at the entrance to your weeping channel, hunched down over your back, and then slowly, deliciously, pushed his thick length inside of you. You moaned openly through every second of it, then took a deep breath when he settled in at the hilt.

James waited there, chest pressed against your back, letting you adjust to the sensation of being filled in both places at once. He peppered kisses along your shoulder.

“Mmm, ready for you to move,” you drawled through your haze.

One hand held the top of your hip, and he planted his arm at your side so he could get the right leverage to begin thrusting in and out of your cunt. He took a slow approach, but it still engulfed you immediately. His cock moving within your cunt while you were plugged, immovable fullness in one hole and a shifting fullness in the other, was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The presence of the plug dialed up every other sensation you were experiencing as James started to speed up his thrusts.  

You fought to acclimate to the overwhelming fullness, as he gradually increased the pace of his thrusting, but your orgasm crashed over you earlier than either of you expected. Your body seized up and then shook as you cried out in ecstasy beneath him. He groaned as you milked his cock, then growled as he sped up even more.

His hand circled your hip to dive beneath your pelvis, in search of your clit.

You keened when his expert fingers found your swollen bud.

“Have to give me another, need you to cum with me,” he demanded, chest rumbling against your back.

His fingers dealt out exquisite torture as he circled your clit.

Your second orgasm built and crested, drawn out in longer bliss this time, and as your walls clenched this time, they triggered the release of your mob boss as well. He gave a shout, muffled into your neck as he pumped you full of his cum. You could feel the heat of it as he emptied himself fully inside you, and you relished in it, arching your back and stretching your arms out satisfyingly in the bursts of pleasure that rolled through your body in the aftershocks.

You turned your head to kiss your lover, full and satiated. He indulged and returned the kiss in kind but broke it off much too soon for your liking, also withdrawing his cock from your well-used cunt. You gave a little moan of protest, but he kissed your forehead.

“I’ll be right back, my love,” he assured you.

Too blissed out and loathe to move yet, you stayed exactly where you were, listening to James’s footsteps moving away to the bathroom. The running tap signaled a quick clean up, and when he returned, he had a warm washcloth to tend to you as well. He carefully removed the plug, and murmured, “You did so good for me.”

A little something fluttered ever so slightly at his soft praise. After he wiped away the mess of your combined spend, he tossed the washcloth to your laundry hamper, removed the pillow from beneath your hips, then settled down on his side on your mattress and collected your boneless body in his arms. You sighed in contentment.

“You ready to send me away yet?” he asked.

“No, you’ve earned at least a few more minutes.”

“Good, because I have one more thing for you.”

You laughed. “I might need a little more recovery time, muscles don’t want to move.”

He reached over to your bedside table, opened the drawer, and pulled something out, but your eyes were drifting closed. You thought maybe he would relent and leave you be for at least a short amount of recovery time if you fell into a light doze.

But of course, he would not.

No.

James Buchanan Barnes, endearing but audacious bastard that he was, couldn’t let you rest.

He withdrew your hand from his chest and deposited something into your palm, wrapping your fingers around it, before he kissed your knuckles.

As your fingers registered the size and shape of the object in your hands – small and square, smooth surfaces, but tied with a satin bow – you stopped breathing, and your eyes flew open.

His face held the softest smile you had ever seen on his features. His thumb brushed smooth, reassuring circles, over the inside of your wrist. “Marry me.”

Your eyes flickered between his piercing blue gaze and the Tiffany blue box in your hands, mouth agape. You had resumed breathing, but you were speechless – happiness tinged with hesitancy. Your eyes went back to him, searching his face, and you knew he was searching your again. “In the other room, you said eventually.”

“Marry me tomorrow, or marry me in five years, but I know what I want,” his tone underscoring his evident resolve. “I told you, I’ve known since very early on, and every moment only solidifies how certain I am I can’t see a future I want more than one that involves you.”

You leaned in to kiss him. He was clever, your mob boss. Strategic. But you also believed he was sincere.

You broke the kiss this time. “I won’t marry you tomorrow, but I don’t want to wait five years, either.”

“We can set the timeline later, but now I want to see my ring on your finger, Chef.”

He reached to start tugging the white bow loose, but you tsked at him and went to work, untying the satin. You opened the blue box, then let your fingers run over the smooth velvet of the smaller box within. Neither of you spoke, the moment charged with anticipation. You tilted back the top half of the ring box.

“Oh, James,” you marveled.

The ring he’d selected could not have been more perfect. The setting of the stones was stunning.

You let him withdraw the ring from its cushion and slip it onto your finger.

Already having proven his track record when it came to knowing things about you, you didn’t question how he had managed to get the perfect sizing for your engagement ring.

Hours later, after hours of kissing and numerous post-engagement orgasms, you did ask how long that ring box had been in your top drawer, but he laughed and assured you only that morning.

You were reasonably sure that was the case, but with him, there was no telling for sure.

And now you knew this mischievous man and mob boss would continue to surprise and challenge you for a lifetime.   

THIS CONCLUDES THE ARC OF THEIR SERIES! I hope it provides a satisfying ending that you were able to devour! I have already written a few pieces for them that take place after this, and I imagine there will be drabbles here and there (there were two things I cut from this chapter already because of how things ended up flowing, and one of them I do at least still see as a conversation they will have in the midst of some smut), but we have at least gotten them from the beginning of their journey to where I wanted them to land in the original four parts I sketched out over a year ago.

Let me know what you think, now that you know how their story has been told! I can't believe we made it!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[fillinforlater]

On her jeans (Part 1 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji

Length: 3128 words

Tags: backstory, sex as payment, degradation, all things blowjob: face fuck, deep throat, gagging, chocking, throat bulging, rough face sex, training, passive hand job, master/daddy kink, desperate_trainee!Minji

TW: Minji is selling herself here kinda (oh no)

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for co-writing this crazy series with me. Mad lad!

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-

(A/N: Hey you! I know you're reading this. Get ready for your favorite girls to get defiled one-by-one. Goon or go (or something like that, sounded cooler in my head). For everyone else, have fun!)

"Huh? Minji? What are you doing here?" 

Kazuha asks, surprised to see the still-trainee on this floor of the HYBE building, knocking on an unoccupied training room that she has nothing to do with usually.

"I-I came here to ask you about something,” the younger stutters. “I heard you were personally selected for LE SSERAFIM—and that there is some backer for your success. Even th-the group's scandal went away without a hitch. 

“Who is helping you, who is he?"

"What are you talking about?" Kazuha responds, face in scrunches. 

"I know that you know, Unnie," Minji says and catches the door before Kazuha can close it again. "I need answers, please. I-I've seen their plans, this is going to blow up, we'll be a failure, HYBE's loving stock.

"I can't fail this."

Kazuha looks at the determined young girl, her face loosening up a bit, turning from trying to defend her future spot at your side from a new rival to worrying for Minji. She curls her finger and Minji enters the otherwise empty training room.

"You have some dangerous knowledge," the Japanese woman then says. "Asking for this—I think you have no idea what you might get into."

"Doesn’t everyone say this about the industry?" Minji responds with wit and looks at Kazuha's sweaty body in the mirror. "Everyone always shares their doubts, from the moment you start. And now we are here, ready to debut. I know I have talent, but will it be enough?"

"You really want this, Minji?"

"Yes, Unnie, more than anything."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen. Why do you—"

"I'll give you his number." Kazuha sighs deeply, but nonetheless, her words have Minji in a delighted dance. "I'll tell him that you are good, so be good, be honest to him. I'm doing you a favor here."

"Thank you so much, Unnie!"

"But be careful: he is greedy, he wants more than you can imagine, so be ready to give him everything. And also—" 

Kazuha pinches Minji's chin, tilts it towards her piercing eyes and whispers in the most kind yet threatening voice: 

"Never try to get between him and me."

# 

"Oh my—your concept, these plans. They are fucking terrible. It's going to take a lot to salvage this, even you seem to know that, Minji." There is no need for you to hold back. If you think a plan is bad, you better tell someone before they fail. You’ve seen your fair share of bad plans, but not by HYBE and not to this extreme.

"I-I know. I tried to tell them, but the managers just shut me down.” Minji puts her arms back on her thighs. They were just dramatically cast into the air to get her point across, but the young girl saw your unimpressed gaze and quickly got professional again. “They are running us straight into a brick wall."

"I've seen many examples like this. A lot of companies think they can do no wrong, especially when a lot of time has passed since their latest failure." 

You give Minji her tablet back and rest your chin on one hand, the other tapping the giant desk before you. You are deep in thought, at least Minji should believe that. Instead you are looking into her eyes, mariana trenches of passion, hopefulness, determination. Minji has a pretty face, leadership qualities, all the skills of a superstar but most importantly, she has some thick lips that will be perfect for cock sucking. 

Okay, you are getting ahead of yourselves. The other big thing she has is the willingness to trade everything for her dream, for hope, maybe for fame too. She will give her dignity for glory—and you will make her do it right fucking now.

"This is a difficult case," you say slowly, watching her expression shift a bit, not yet gloomy but getting there. "Luckily, I and HYBE still have the time and resources to make your debut a success. People will talk about it for a long time. I can even guarantee you a music show win from the get go."

"Really? Oh my God, thank you so much, sir. You are way too kind." Minji jumps from her seat and takes a deep, formal bow. "I hope I can lay all of this in your hand?"

"You sure can, Minji, but you know this comes with a price, a hefty one at that. This cannot be solved with two phone calls and some convincing. Hell, I barely have any time." You stand up from your chair and look at the young woman, upper body still tilted but her huge eyes fixed on you, now you’re in front of her. You still dwarf her and she only now knows that she is completely outmatched and will pay up.

"I-I will give you everything, as soon as I can," she stutters. "I only need some time and, and—"

"But I need it now, Minji. Right fucking now.

"Get on your knees."

"Sir?" Minji asks, shocked. "On my knees? Do-do you want me to beg?" 

You snort. “I thought you were smarter. What did Zuha tell you exactly?” 

“H-how did you know—?”

“Minji, what you're asking for requires a complete 180. Your entire concept will have to be changed. From what I’ve heard, you need some new songs too. I have someone in mind who can spearhead your group but she's a wildcard, batshit insane really, but the right kind of crazy needed for something like this. But all of this will take a lot of fucking effort, time and money. And I need you to prove your worth, now."

Push down on Minji's shoulders until she winces and sinks to the floor. Black tiles, hard, cold and somewhat reflective. You know that for a moment all of them hesitate when seeing the rough outline of their head mirrored back to them. Are they really going to do it? Is this what they have to sell? Is it worth it? 

Those that stayed are now superstars and because Minji somehow knew about it and had the guts to look for you, there is not a single doubt in you that she will devote herself to you.

"I can make your dreams come true," you proclaim calmly, yet your words put Minji under unbearable pressure. "Fame, money, success are all guaranteed, out of question, beyond that everything is possible. When you just stay there, on your knees and open your pretty mouth—"

A zip and your semi-hard cock is released, to the absolute shock of Minji, whose mental image of her face is replaced by the first phallus she has ever seen before her eyes. 

"—I'll fulfill your desires."

Minji looks up at you and gulps. She thought the auditions and training evaluations were the final tests respectively, but now her entire career comes down to this one huge cock right in front of her. She curses the producers, the managers, those idiots at Ador—their mistakes have to be redeemed by her sucking dick and lowering to the level of a desperate whore.

Minji has no option. Idols are born from hardship and this is just another step, she believes. So her lips part a little, and when she locks eyes with you, they part a lot more. With a satisfied groan, you shove your cock deep into her throat.

"From now on, you'll call me Master. Later will be Daddy, but not until you've proven worthy. Your next few weeks will be rough, new people, new songs, new choreos." The first tears form in Minji's gorgeous eyes as gags bounce through your office. "I don't care how tired or sweaty you are, when I call you, you come to me right after practice, no excuses. You will obey every fucking wish, especially because I have so much work with you."

You drag your balls over her chin, let your cock rest at the top of her mouth and open it wide. Minji is clumsy with her teeth and with the way she tries to dodge your thrust, be it intentionally or out of fear. This is of course vastly inferior compared to a blowjob from all those second and third gen stars you've made big after giving them your big cock.

The only redeeming, already great quality, are her lips. Natural, not a talent or skill. She'd be a lot better just not moving, not thinking, a fleshlight, but how should such a young woman know?

"I assume you're smart enough to understand all this," you tell her expectantly and pull out. Minji leans forward and coughs up her saliva on your floor. You grab her hair and pull it back, get ready to spit at her, but she has wit.

"Ye-yes, Master. Excuse my incompetence, I—you're so big."

"No crying? No regrets? Well, that's more impressive than your blowjob skills. How about you clean up your incompetence?"

You take a step back and pull her face down, down by the hair, onto the tiles where her spurts of saliva lay. Minji hisses out in pain, you know she stares down angrily, shocked at how rude you are to her. She grits her teeth—

"Yes, Master, sorry, Master."

—and begins to lick the floor, slowly and only with the tip of her small tongue.

You are mildly impressed that she adjusted to her situation rather quickly. It is the sign of a prodigy in bloom. 

"I am curious, baby girl. I was informed you didn't really set out to become an idol. So why put yourself through all of this?" You muse and question her. Minji's eyes widened a little, finally shifting from their bristling anger. "Oh, I know everything about you, Kim Minji. It is my job to know and then some. So tell me: what is your ambition? What is your desire?"

"Who doesn't dream of being famous?" Minji says, determination in her eyes which she has pointed at you like sharp, pointy arrows. "I want to be a star, the idol that all my classmates, parents, grown-ups have never seen in me. I want to show them how wrong they were."

"Too bad that even after joining the great and successful HYBE, you are about to be their first blunder," you taunt her and slap her forehead with your cock. "Good thing you're ready to suck cock for some adjustments of their mistakes."

Minji puckers her lips and a bit carelessly gets your cock back onto them, spreading small licks on your cockhead. "This is nothing, I know hardship."

"Oh, 

"You call this nothing?"

You tsk and slap her face with your cock.

"You know hardship? Do tell, Minji..." You grip her head and begin to plunge into her mouth. "Hardship? We haven't even started yet. I'm not even at full size, stupid girl!" 

You see her eyes widening as tears begin to form with your rough treatment. Thinking back to Minji's words, you read her well. People doubted her—you could too. She wasn't so different from the others you've trained. All they needed was education to rely on you, devotion to you and love for you and only you.

"Make sure to keep your fucking teeth off of it," you growl while your fingers search for new ways to pull at her hair, to push her away and then slam her back down on your cock which is finally hardening at the arousal her fearful face brings. The inside of Minji's mouth grows wetter, sloppier, warmer, until suddenly—

The annoyance of her teeth returns and it stings. To start with blowjobs has both been a disaster for your pleasure but intense fuel to introduce Minji to the harsh reality that is you; you and the success that you bring. Everything she has ever wanted, you can bring her, and so she fights trough the tears and accepts that you press her flat on the floor and fuck down into her mouth like it's a pussy.

"Open wide, open wide," you repeatedly command, a hand on Minji's jaw to help her make this command come true. "You useless slut, don't waste your lips on such pathetic blowjobs. Fucking hell, when I'm done with you, you better deepthroat like a mid porn star.

"Fucking waste of my time, you stupid stupid girl. This is the standard HYBE is accepting now? Fuck, maybe we can't even blame the company for your group's future failure—it will all just be on you. If you don't fucking step it up, this is the last time you will ever contact me." 

Gaze still intensely focused on her, you pull out your cell phone and unlock it. You don’t really use it for much, except for phone calls, but this alone makes this device insanely valuable. You however don’t need to make a phone call now. You only need to show Minji one thing: your contact list.

She can see you scrolling past the names of tons of people, all in the industry. Well known producers, managers, executives, staff members, but most importantly, all highlighted by a colorful array of yellow, orange, red and pink: 

The full names of hundreds of female idols. Minji scans through the list, recognizing one Unnie after the other, from nugu second gen groups to absolute super stars.

You pull out of Minji's mouth, give her time to cough up all leftover spit and wipe her tears away. Ultimately, you help her up from the cold hard floor, the only thing still laying on the floor is her pride.

"Do you get it now?" you ask and look at her, eyebrows raised with the highest of expectations.

"Yes, Master."

"Then you know what you have to do."

"De-deepthroat like a p-porn star."

"Can you do that?"

Minji hesitates, something you cannot stand for the love of everything. You grab her hips and throw her on your desk, spin her until her head is hanging off of the table. With no further warning, because she does not deserve those anymore, you press your cock on her lips and fill more than her mouth. Minji's throat starts to visibly bulge from the massive width of your cock. 

Of course she is gagging, kicking her feet but that isn't even a flight response. There is no need for you to pin her down. She wants to stay, wants to become a good slut, a stupid girl that can suck your entire cock. Sadly, her newfound eagerness isn't rewarded with success. She needs training and stretching and so you stretch Minji's throat with lazy thrust and train her nose to accept your balls on them.

"You're so silly, but finally, we have some effort, Minji," you growl and reach into the top of her shirt. "We can work from here."

You fondle her breasts, run your hands down her soft stomach. 

"Good, I can definitely work with this. You remind me of—" 

But you pause, not wanting to divulge any advantages for her to pick up on. She looks like an absolute fuck doll as her head continues hang off the table. Even upside down, it was pretty when stuffed with your cock, your balls now touching her lips with each plunge. 

"Minji, it's not enough to deepthroat like a porn star. You'll learn to deepthroat like one of my perfect sluts, whores. Porn star is a start, but it will soon be an insult to you.”

She had no idea that her consideration as a future perfect whore meant you already took a liking to her. As of now, all she knew—no, all she could think of—was your cock and that she needed to keep her teeth off of it. It needed to fuck her throat if she wanted any chance at a great career. 

And so Minji takes it, acts like a whore who willingly gets gag induced drool over her face, then fat, filled balls on her nose and accepts the greedy hands all over her midriff. Minji always thought that she needs this tight, perfect form for the approvement of the public—now it's you who decides if her body is acceptable and ripe for a fucking. 

Your seal of approval is the frantic way you tear open her shirt, then her bra and start to knead her breasts, while her tongue movements become actually enjoyable. You thrust harder, making Minji's face pale as she struggles to get air. She looks gorgeous like that, so you slap her tummy and before the choking is too hard, you back off and pull your pants up.

"That's it for today," you say as Minji still gasps for air. "From now on, you'll be here everyday after practice."

Short silence, disbelief in her eyes. "H-huh—yes, Master."

"The door will be open. Walk in and lay down on the table, just like this. You will wait until I return or have time for you. It doesn't matter what happens, you will lay there until I am finished with you."

"Yes, Master."

"A lot will change." You rub sweat and spit off her temple with a gentle hand and look at her glassy eyes. "You might not get any sleep at all. Now you will learn true adversity.

"Okay, fuck it. You don't deserve this, but I don't care."

Pull your pants back down and lower your balls onto Minji's mouth. This time, there is no hesitation, and she opens her fuckable lips wide. Her tongue starts to twirl around your sac while you begin to jerk yourself off. When Minji finally starts to suck, you feel a satisfying conclusion to this messy meeting arriving. But—

"Why would I do it myself? Get your hand here!"

You find one of Minji's hands and start to spit on each finger. Like a waterfall, it runs down until you deem it lubricated enough. Then you put them around your manhood and begin to thrust. It's a lot colder than a pussy, but Minji seems to instinctively know how to tighten the gap, the grip, her hand-pussy suddenly becomes worth cumming in.

Take a final breath and climax, each pump sending long streaks of pearly white on Minji's body. You cover her in seed until one long line, from her navel to her throat, forms and you admire how carefully she worships your balls. Wipe your cockhead clean on her hand and make a mental note to have this soft palm be a useful masturbation aid for another time.

"Who would've thought that you're already in love with my balls?" You almost crack a smile through your stone cold facade. "A good sign that you're already a whore."

"M-Master, I..."

"Shut the fuck up.

"Tomorrow, after practice. No underwear, no questions, no one is allowed to know."

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗩𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗬 𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗦

　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x famous!reader

SUMMARY: Where the world-famous actress and model, Y/N, is invited by Vogue to record a video of her Beauty Secrets, but during the recording, Chris, her boyfriend, decides to make a brief appearance.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The golden sun peeked through the silk curtains, illuminating Y/N's spacious marble bathroom. She was at home in her luxurious suite, ready to share her beauty secrets with the world.

A few days ago, Y/N was busy organizing her appointments when an email with the iconic Vogue logo caught her attention. With a mix of curiosity and anticipation, she opened the message to discover that Vogue was interested in featuring her in its exclusive beauty video series, Vogue Beauty Secrets.

The news filled her with excitement and pride. As one of the most in-demand models of the moment, walking on runways for renowned brands like Gucci and being a regular in the pages of Vogue itself, Y/N was already a familiar presence in the fashion industry. However, the invitation to share her beauty secrets with the Vogue audience represented an exciting opportunity to connect on an even deeper level with her fans and followers.

As Y/N prepared to start recording the video, she could hear the distant sound of laughter and the distinctive hum of video games coming from the next room. Her boyfriend, Chris, was immersed in one of his thousands of games, completely absorbed by the virtual world.

With a captivating smile, the girl waves to the camera with her left hand, starting the recording. Her long hair falls like a silken waterfall as she approaches the dressing table adorned with high-quality beauty products.

"Hi, guys! It's Y/N here." She greets enthusiastically, her smile stretching across her face as her right hand lifts slightly, showing the white mug full of fresh brewed coffee. "And I'm back on my favorite channel. Today is a very special day because I'm sharing my beauty secrets with you!"

With grace and elegance, Y/N begins her skincare routine, explaining each step in meticulous detail. She gently applies a gentle cleanser, massaging it into her skin in circular motions while commenting on the latest happenings in the fashion world.

"You know, being on the cover of Vogue for the fifth time is an honor." She shares casually. "But it's also a reminder of how much hard work and dedication it takes to get there. I remember when I was just a 10-year-old kid walking down the hallway at home in my mom's heels."

While applying a refreshing toner, Y/N describes how she likes to take care of her skin to keep it radiant and flawless, even under the relentless camera spotlight.

"It's all about consistency and finding what works for you." The girl advises gently, looking directly into the camera with confidence. "And never underestimate the power of drinking lots of water and getting enough sleep!"

With one fluid movement, Y/N moves on to the next step: makeup. She carefully selects her favorite products, explaining the reasoning behind each choice as she applies them with masterful skill.

"My makeup philosophy is simple: enhance natural beauty." She explains, delicately tracing her eyebrows with a pencil in the tone of her natural hair. "It’s all about enhancing, not transforming."

Y/N lowered her head slightly, her right hand hovering over her laid out products before her index finger and thumb fished out her Dior blush.

"This one is Dior Backstage Rosy Glow Blush. It's super beautiful and gives you, like, baby pink glow. I'm literally obsessed!" The girl opens the small packaging, momentarily showing the pink powder to the lens before applying it delicately to the apples of her cheeks with a white brush. "I used to use really heavy blush when I was in school." Y/N confesses, laughing. "My face looked like a paint palette! Chris said it also looked like I had sunbathed for hours without sunscreen. But over time, I learned the art of subtlety."

As she continued to expertly apply her makeup, focusing on the smooth strokes and precise touches, a noise at the bathroom door broke her focus. With a surprised sigh, she saw through the mirror her boyfriend entered the spacious room with a frustrated expression on his face.

"Fucking hell!" He grumbled under his breath, muttering curses as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh softly at the sight of him, knowing he was dealing with another loss in his game against Nick and Matt.

"Having some trouble, babe?" She asked playfully, turning her face slightly towards him and giving him an amused look as she continued to apply her makeup.

Chris let out a heavy sigh and walked with quick steps toward her, looking over Y/N's shoulder to see what she was doing. His eyes widened in surprise as he noticed the strategically placed recording camera before turning towards his girl with raised eyebrows.

"Wow, wait!" The boy exclaimed, excitement clear in his voice. "Are you recording a video?"

Y/N nodded, smiling as she explained about Vogue's invitation and the opportunity to share her beauty secrets with the world, her hands gently closing the packaging of the blush before putting it away in its original place.

Chris watched with admiration her animated features as she talked and her hands moving her favorite products - which he had already memorized, him himself buying many of them for her everytime he passed by Sephora -, his eyes shining with pride.

"That's so cool, baby!" He exclaimed, smiling big and wrapping an arm around her waist, moving so that he was more centered inside the lens's frame and clinging to his girl. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"If your intention is to make me blush, it will be impossible under those layers of blush." Y/N intervened, raising her right hand with her palm facing him, rolling her eyes playfully in an attempt to feign annoyance, but the minimal smile on her face said otherwise. "Do you want to stay here? With me."

"Can I?" Chris widened his eyes comically, turning abruptly to her, feeling elated.

"Of course you can, honey!" Y/N couldn't help but laugh at Chris's excitement, nodding with a smile. "Welcome to my world of beauty." She opened her arms in an exaggerated gesture of welcome, receiving a nasal laugh in response.

As she resumed her makeup, explaining the next steps in detail, Chris watched with interest, asking questions and showing genuine interest in the entire process, a childish and euphoric aura surrounding his body.

As Y/N picked up her favorite mascara and began to explain in detail about the brand and its incredible formula that provided volume and length without clumping, Chris's eyes traveled between the product - which he already knew very well - and her concentrated expression. He could see the passion in his girlfriend's eyes as she talked about her beauty rites, and this only increased his admiration for her, an involuntary smile resting on his face.

Then, when Y/N was about to apply the mascara, the boy gently stepped forward, extending his hands, stopping her movements. The girl raised her eyes to him, a confused expression hovering over them before noticing what he wanted to do after watching Chris take the product from her hands.

That wasn't unusual between them; Over the three years of their relationship, Chris had become skilled at some specific makeup steps, helping his girlfriend on several occasions.

"Can I?" He asked softly, holding the mascara in her eyes level.

Y/N smiled, feeling grateful for her boyfriend's affectionate gesture, throwing a wink in the direction of the camera before turning her body slightly to the side, so that her face was still visible to the lens and that Chris could see her completely.

"Please, go ahead, baby." She finally replied, her eyes shining with tenderness as she watched Chris move closer, wanting to put himself in an easy position for both of them, without running the risk of smudging his work.

With skill and care, Chris began to apply the mascara to Y/N's long, naturally curled lashes, following the precise movements he had observed she doing so many times. He furrowed his eyebrows in a serious expression, determined to do an impeccable job, his tongue lolling out of his lips in concentration.

"Chris and I have an interesting ritual. For as long as I can remember, I've always been very careful about the way I look, and that didn't change after I started dating Chris, and much less when we started actively going to each other's houses." Y/N explained softly, without moving her lips too much with the intention of not making him smudge his work. "And Chris, being the adorably clingy boyfriend that he is, would spend hours in the bathroom with me while I was trying out new makeup or getting ready to go out. He would just sit on the closed toilet seat and watch me for minutes on end."

"How could I not look at a work of art as perfect as you?" The boy interrupted her, shooting off his sentence before an involuntary smirk appeared on his lips, feeling the skin of her right cheek burn against his own hand.

"And then, one day, he asked to do my makeup, but before I explained the function of each product." Y/N quickly resumed her train of thought, ignoring her boyfriend's flirting. "And over time, every time we go out together, he asks to help me, or just to watch me doing my skin routine."

"Sharing these intimate moments with you is the best part of my daily routine." The brunette said softly, his tone low with the intention of only his girlfriend hearing, his eyes meeting hers tenderly.

Y/N quickly pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling her neck and cheeks burn even more in shyness, her right hand moving up his body, caressing his covered hip lightly with her fingers in ghost touches.

When he was finished, Chris stood back with a triumphant smile, admiring his work with pride. Y/N turned around, facing the camera and the mirror completely, observing her own reflection for a few seconds, impressed with the result. Her lashes were perfectly defined and voluminous, exactly how she liked them.

"Wow, you're getting better at this!" Y/N exclaimed, approaching her face to the camera slightly, blinking repeatedly, wanting the lens to capture her boyfriend's perfect work. "Thank you, my love."

Chris smiled excitedly, happy to have made Y/N feel even more pretty, his hands returning to their previous place on her waist.

"Vogue, please, get Chris to do the next episode of Vogue Beauty Secrets."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

extra - comments:

"petition for Chris and Y/N to start posting makeup videos together ✏️📄"

"I never thought I would see Chris knowing about makeup, much less doing someone's makeup 😭"

"this is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my entire life 😔✋🏻"

"I need a boyfriend like Chris, who does my makeup every day 🙏🏻"

"Chris is the true meaning of acts of service 🥺"

"couple goals fr 🤞🏻"

"Chris is to blame for my standard being so high 😫"

"get someone that looks at you like Chris looks at Y/N while she puts on makeup 🤭"

“okay, but can we talk about Y/N’s flawless skin? I'm jealous 😫”

"Y/N's makeup >>>>>"

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