#you already follow me you know what you get

[gloomwitchwrites]

You introduce your husband as your "boyfriend" to annoy them.

Anon! This prompt has me screaming! I really enjoyed writing for this one because it's such a fun idea. Sure, our 141 boys might be a little mad that they aren't being called by their proper title, but you know they'll just love punishing you for it.

I went a little different with this one. Instead of introductions, I made it so that reader is constantly referring to them as "boyfriend" in public settings. Depending on the situation, introductions wouldn't make sense if it was with friends, family, or coworkers because they would likely already know that they're "husband" and not "boyfriend." So i changed it up a bit in that way!

Some of these fall into spicy territory without being descriptive.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, non-descriptive mentions of sex, fade to black, brief dirty talk

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shakes his head and you roll your eyes.

“We can ask someone for help,” you suggest, scanning the massive wall of televisions.

Simon grunts and crosses his arms. “No.”

Sometimes Simon’s stubbornness is cute—even sexy—but right now you’re just annoyed with him. It makes you want to stir up trouble, to cause a little chaos just for the fun of it. Pouting, you turn, eyes narrowing to find an associate of the electronics store. When you spot one near the HDMI cables, you take off, not caring if Simon follows.

“Excuse me.”

The man’s head perks up. “How can I help you?”

You gesture behind you, your hand smacking into Simon’s chest. “My boyfriend—”

“Boyfriend?” growls Simon, but you ignore him.

“—can’t decide on a television.”

Simon is not your boyfriend. He’s your husband. But he’s being stubborn, not making a decision, and you want out of this store.

Shifting, you place one hand on Simon’s large bicep, grinning like you haven’t done anything at all. Simon’s hand immediately grabs your ass, squeezing hard. A warning. One that you ignore.

“I can help with that,” replies the associate. You glance at the man’s nametag. Jim.

“Thank you so much, Jim.” You lean against Simon, giving Jim your best smile. “Getting this guy to commit to anything is so hard sometimes, ya know?”

Jim makes a noncommittal noise as he walks toward the wall of televisions. You start to follow but Simon’s hold on your ass tightens, keeping you pressed against him. Simon leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

You elbow Simon in the side but it’s not hard. He lets go, keeping close to you as the two of you follow Jim over to the televisions. Standing back, you watch with glee as Simon is forced to talk to Jim. You stay out of it, but notice Simon’s gaze switching to you every so often.

You already know what he’s thinking. He’ll likely want to punish you, and sometimes those punishments are so sweet.

Once Simon selects something and the two of you are at the car, there is no safety net. Simon shuts the trunk and then you’re pressed against the car, your body trapped between it and Simon’s massive form.

“Boyfriend?” he accuses.

You shrug. “What do you mean?”

The growl in Simon’s throat comes out a groan. “Get in the car.” He lightly slaps your ass as you open the passenger door.

As you start to slide in, Simon’s hand returns, this time slipping under your skirt to find your thin, lace underwear. He tugs sharply, ripping the fabric.

“Simon!”

He stuffs the underwear into his pocket. “You don’t need these.” You feel your face growing hot.

Simon shuts your car door and walks around the driver’s side, hopping in. He reaches out, placing one large hand on your bare thigh. It roams upward, squeezing, sending a shiver of lust up your body to make your head spin. “When we get home, I’m fucking that boyfriend nonsense right out of you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“I’m so sorry, but this isn’t what my boyfriend ordered.”

Kyle frowns and glances up from his phone’s screen. That’s your voice he hears, but the term of address isn’t right.

Boyfriend. Not husband, as it fucking should be.

Kyle glances in your direction but you’re not looking at him. You’re smiling sweetly at the barista behind the counter.

“It should be hot. Not iced. I might have messed up. I’m so sorry. I can pay for another.” You raise your hands in a placating gesture but the barista doesn’t appear fazed at all.

“No biggie. Keep that one. Won’t take me more than a minute or two.”

“Thank you so much.” You glance at Kyle, and your smirk tells him all he needs to know.

You’re being a tease. You’re doing this on purpose. The drink order is wrong, and you’re using this as an excuse to poke at him.

Kyle locks his phone and casually slides it into his pocket. Do you think you’re going to annoy him by doing this? Maybe. The little smirk on your face tells him that’s entirely what you have in mind.

But the joke is on you. Doesn’t matter if you refer to him as “boyfriend,” because all it’ll earn you is a punishment.

As the barista slides the new drink across the counter to you, you thank them profusely. “Thank you so much. My boyfriend will really appreciate it.”

The barista only nods and turns back to the espresso machine.

As you approach with the coffee, Kyle gentle removes the drink from your grasp.

“Boyfriend?” he asks, amused.

You shake your head like you have no idea what he’s on about. “What?”

Kyle laughs and snags the other drink from your hand. With shock on your face, he strides up to the counter. “Can you set these aside for us? Be right back.”

They only nod and continue working. Kyle snags your wrist and drags you to the little hallway that curves out around. There are a few private corners in there, and the hallway itself opens up into the nearby bookstore.

Kyle checks the handle on the unisex bathroom. Finding it unlocked, he draws you inside.

“Kyle,” you hiss, but he’s not having any of it.

Kyle engages the lock and presses you up against the door.

“You owe me an apology,” he says.

“For what?” Kyle tuts, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Get on your knees,” he murmurs, undoing his belt buckle with the other hand. “Apologize with that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

John Price

John leans back in his chair, agitation irritating his spine.

House hunting isn’t something he’s particularly excited about. He is happy that it’s with you, his wife, but the tediousness of it all is exhausting to him. John would rather have you select a few places to tour and then be done with it all. Money isn’t the issue. He just wants you to find a place you like and the two of you can go from there.

He’d live in a tent if that’s what you want.

“My boyfriend isn’t all that picky.”

Boyfriend? John is tugged from his inner musings by your voice and that term of address. Boyfriend. Why the fuck would you call him that? John isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your goddamn husband.

You reach out, planting a hand on his thigh. You squeeze softly as you always do when you’re trying to reassure him, but John frowns down at it, and then looks up at you. You’re not looking at him. You’re staring at the realtor, completely ignoring him.

John licks his lips, considering whether to correct you or not, or leaving it up to a simple mistake, but you do it again.

This time, John didn’t mishear you.

Your hand squeezes his thigh again and Price rests his hand over yours. His fingers enclose your palm and he holds firm. You glance at him and John shoots you his best warning look. You don’t even react. Don’t event blink.

No. He’s going to correct you. He is absolutely fucking correcting you.

The realtor pivots the computer monitor. “I think any boyfriend would agree that these are excellent selections.”

That’s fucking it.

Price shoots up from his seat, keeping a tight grip on your hand. “I need to speak with my—” John pauses, swallowing down his annoyance. “Girlfriend. Privately.”

The realtor shrugs, smiling, but John is already turning around, dragging you out the door. Outside, the stuffy, summer air does nothing to soothe his annoyance.

“Boyfriend? Fucking boyfriend?” John crosses his arms over his chest, looming over you.

You shrug. “What’s the problem?”

“Behave yourself,” he says, lowering his voice.

“Or what?” you ask in mock innocence.

So, this is what you want. John understands the moment the words leave your mouth. You’re fucking teasing him. Fine. He’ll make you learn.

“We are gonna go back in, thank the kind woman for her time, and then we’re leaving.”

“No. I want to stay.”

John leans in but he notices the way you glance away from him and back, clearly flustered. “Good girls don’t play games.”

“Funny,” you reply, head tilting slightly. “That as my boyfriend you have any authority over me.”

John pivots, blocking the view of the front door from you. “I will bend you over that bench so fast, wife.”

“You won’t,” you stammer.

John arches an eyebrow and you visibly swallow. “Want to test me?”

You pout, and then playfully shove him in the chest. “You’re terrible.”

As you turn for the door, John grabs your waist pulling you close. “You started it.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“My boyfriend and I are redesigning our bathroom.”

Johnny’s attention splits. The associate showing him floor tiles is a distant thing. He might be talking about the newest ones on the market, but Johnny is no longer interested.

Did he just hear you right? Did you just call him boyfriend?

“That’s wonderful,” comes a reply, and Johnny notes an older woman talking to you near the laminate flooring that mimics wood. “Where is he?”

“Over there,” you wave at him, a smug smile on your face.

Boyfriend? Johnny is your fucking husband.

“Sir?” prompts the hardware store associate. “What do you think of these?”

Johnny grunts. “Fine. We’ll come back.” He waves the man off and starts for you even as you continuously refer to him as your boyfriend.

You’re doing it on purpose. You’re doing it to annoy him.

And it’s fucking working.

Johnny saddles up beside you, snaking his arm around your waist, pulling you taut against him.

“This is the boyfriend,” you begin, smiling.

“Husband,” corrects Johnny, flashing the same devious grin. He holds up his left hand, showing off the simple gold band. “Happily married to this one.”

The older woman’s eyes round.

“She likes to joke,” continues Johnny. “Come on, love. Better get home.”

Johnny easily guides you away. He leans down, whispering. “You little terror.”

“Bite me,” you reply.

“Oh. I will. Everywhere. When we get home.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @enarien

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@thewulf @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos

@sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez

@gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

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@talooolaaloolla @hantheconqueror @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Me

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc is the perfect man for you … getting stopped on the street for a random TikTok challenge just serves to prove that even further

The warm Monaco sun beats down on you as you stroll leisurely along the bustling sidewalk, a canvas tote bag filled with fresh produce and flowers from the local farmer’s market hanging from your shoulder. The salty sea breeze wafts across your face, carrying with it the excited chatter and laughter of tourists admiring the luxurious yachts bobbing in Port Hercules.

You smile to yourself, relishing this perfect Mediterranean afternoon. Just a quick stop at home to drop off your purchases, and then maybe you’ll take a dip in the infinity pool on the terrace to cool off before Charles is done with-

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle!” A young man’s voice breaks through your daydreaming. You glance over to see a twenty-something guy with a neatly trimmed beard, expensive-looking sunglasses, and a black t-shirt emblazoned with HUSTLE in white block letters. He’s holding a mini microphone and has his iPhone pointed at you, clearly filming.

A TikToker.

You sigh internally but force a polite smile.

“Oui, puis-je vous aider?” You reply in French.

“Ah sorry, I don’t speak much French! Do you speak English?” The TikToker asks eagerly in a British accent.

“Yes, I do. Can I help you with something?” You say, switching to English yourself. You just want to get home but you know these influencer types can be annoyingly persistent.

The TikToker grins. “Brilliant! I’m doing a social experiment for my followers. I was wondering — do you have a significant other? A boyfriend or husband perhaps?”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly but decide to humor him. “Um, yes, I have a boyfriend,” you answer simply.

His eyes light up. “Fantastic! And would you say your boyfriend loves you very much?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the boldness of this stranger’s line of questioning. “Yes, I would definitely say that. He loves me a lot,” you confirm, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of Charles.

“Perfect! Okay, here’s the challenge,” the TikToker announces dramatically, staring intensely into his camera. “I want you to call up your boyfriend right now and ask him to send you some money. Doesn’t matter how much. But for every €100 he sends, I’ll give you €20 to keep for yourself. Let’s see how much he really loves you, shall we?”

You stare at this guy incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. Is he serious? He clearly has no idea who your boyfriend is. An amused smirk spreads across your face as you fish your iPhone out of your designer purse.

“Alright, you’re on,” you say confidently, already unlocking your phone and tapping on Charles’ contact. The TikToker looks surprised but excited that you actually agreed to his silly challenge.

“Put it on speaker phone,” he instructs, zooming his camera in on your phone screen which is now dialing Charles.

After a few rings, the warm, honey-smooth voice you adore comes through. “Allô mon amour, what’s up?” Charles greets you sweetly. “I’m just finishing up some simulator runs but I should be done soon to help with dinner.”

“Hey baby,” you reply, your voice automatically softening. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. But I’m out right now and I just passed by that little boutique near the casino, you know the one? And I saw the most incredible pair of shoes in the window. I swear they were calling my name.”

Charles laughs affectionately, the sound like music to your ears even through the cell phone speaker. “Oh yeah? The ones that were calling your name last week turned out to be, what was it, €900?” He teases.

You roll your eyes playfully even though he can’t see. “Okay, fair, but you know I hardly ever splurge on myself. I’m usually so frugal!”

“Mmhmm, whatever you need to tell yourself, chérie,” Charles says wryly and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Let me guess, you need to go get these dream shoes right now? Or else they’ll haunt you forever?”

“You know me so well,” you gush dramatically. “I promise I’ll pay you back though! I get paid next week and-”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Charles cuts you off gently. “Mon cœur, you never have to pay me back, you know that. I love being able to treat you and spoil you. You deserve the world. Never forget that.”

You feel yourself melt at his earnest words, momentarily forgetting you have an audience. “I love you so much,” you murmur. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”

“Right back at you, ma belle. Je t’aime,” Charles says tenderly. “There, check your banking app. Let me know if you need any more. And have fun shopping! I’ll see you at home in a bit, okay? À bientôt!”

You glance down at your phone as a notification from your bank pops up on the screen. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the amount Charles sent over, but you recover quickly.

“Thank you, baby. See you soon!” You reply before hanging up. You turn back to the TikToker who is gaping at you in disbelief. Casually, you turn your phone screen towards him and his camera so he can clearly see the notification that €10,000 has just been deposited into your account.

The poor guy looks like he’s about to pass out from shock. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, rendered speechless. You just laugh good-naturedly.

“Well, guess I won your little challenge, huh?” You remark, slipping your phone back into your purse. “Tell you what, why don’t you donate whatever money you were going to give me to a local animal shelter instead? I think it’ll be put to much better use there.”

The TikToker finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor. He laughs shakily and nods. “Yeah ... yeah I can do that. Wow. Um, thanks for being such a good sport about this. And congrats on, uh, winning, I guess?”

You give him a friendly wink. “Anytime. Have a nice rest of your day!” With that, you turn gracefully on your heel and continue on your way back home, feeling rather smug and deeply appreciative of your wonderfully generous boyfriend.

“Wait!” The TikToker calls out after you. You glance back over your shoulder curiously. He hesitates before asking in an awed voice, “If you don’t mind me asking ... who the hell is your boyfriend?”

An enigmatic smile plays on your lips. “No one special really,” you reply breezily. “Just a guy who loves driving fast cars.”

You leave the gaping TikToker in your wake as you saunter off, already daydreaming about showing your appreciation to Charles later for being the most incredible boyfriend imaginable.

Maybe you really will splurge on those designer shoes after all … and pick up a little something special from the lingerie boutique next door while you’re at it.

Your smile widens. Just as a little thank you to your man, of course. Life is good when you’re in love with Charles Leclerc.

[jessiethewitchzard]

Seeing @thydungeongal constantly wrestling with people interpreting her posts about D&D in ways that seem completely alien to me has convinced me that there are actually multiple completely distinct activities both being referred to as "playing D&D" Before we begin, I want to stress that I'm not saying one of these groups is Playing The Game Wrong or anything, but there seems to be a lot of confusion and conflict caused by people not being aware of the distinction. In fact, either one works just fine if everyone's on the same page. So far, I think I've identified at least two main groups. And nobody seems to realize the distinction between these groups even exists. The first group of people think of "Playing D&D" as, well, more or less like any other board game. Players read the whole rulebook all the way through, all the players follow the instructions, and the gameplay experience is determined by what the rules tell each player to do. This group thinks of the mechanics as, not exactly the *whole* game, but certainly the fundamental skeleton that everything else is built on top of. People in the second group think of "Playing D&D" as referring to, hanging out with their friends, collaboratively telling a story inspired by some of the elements in the rulebooks, maybe rolling some dice to see what happens when they can't decide. This group thinks of the mechanics of the game as, like... a spice to sprinkle on top of the story to mix things up. (if you belong to this second group, and think I'm explaining it poorly, please let me know, because I'm kind of piecing things together from other people saying things I don't understand and trying to reverse engineer how they seem to be approaching things.) I think this confusion is exacerbated by the fact that Wizards of the Coast markets D&D as if these are the same thing. They emphatically are not. the specific rules laid out of the D&D rulebooks actually direct players to tell a very specific kind of story. You can tell other stories if you ignore those rules (which still counts as "playing D&D" under the second definition, but doesn't under the first)And I think people in both groups are getting mad because they assume that everyone is also using their definition. For example, there's a common argument that I've seen play out many times that goes something like this:

A: "How do I mod D&D to do [insert theme here]?" B: "D&D is really not built for that, you should play [other TTRPG] that's designed for it instead" A: "But I don't want to learn a whole new game system!" B: "It will be easier to just learn a whole new system than mod D&D to do that." A: "whatever, I'll just mod D&D on my own" And I think where this argument comes from is the two groups described above completely talking past each other. No one understands what the other person is trying to say. From A's perspective, as a person in the second group, it sounds like A: "Anyone have some fun inspirations for telling stories about [insert theme here]?" B: "You can't sit around a table with your friends and tell a story about that theme! That's illegal." A: "But we want to tell a story about this theme!" B: "It's literally impossible to do that and you're a dumb idiot baby for even thinking about it." A: "whatever, jerk, I'll figure it out on my own."

--- Whereas, from B's perspective, the conversation sounds like A: "How do I change the rules of poker to be chess, and not be poker?" B: "uhhh, just play chess?" A: "But I already know how to player poker! I want to play poker, but also have it be chess!" B: "what the hell are you talking about? What does that even mean. They're completely different games." A: "I'm going to frankenstein these rules together into some kind of unplayably complex monster and you can't stop me!" ---

So both people end up coming away from the conversation thinking the other person is an idiot. And really, depending on how you concieve of what it means to "play D&D" what is being asked changes considerably. If you're only planning to look through the books for cool story inspiration, maybe borrow a cool little self contained sub-system here or there, then yeah, it's very possible to steal inspiration for your collaborative story from basically anywhere. Maybe some genres are kind of an awkward fit together, but you can make anything work with a little creativity.

If, however, you are thinking of the question in terms of frankensteining two entire board games together, then it becomes a massively difficult or even outright nonsensical idea. For example, for skill checks, the game Shadowrun has players roll a pool of several d6 at once, then count up how many rolled above a target value to see how well a character succeeded at a task. The whole game is full of specific rules about adding or removing dice from the pool, effects happening if you roll doubles, rerolling only some of the dice, and all sorts of other things that simply do not translate to rolling a single d20 for skill checks. On a basic level, the rules of the games work very differently. Trying to make them compatible would be much harder than just learning a new game from scratch. Now, neither of these approaches is exactly *wrong*, I guess, but personally, I find the rules of TTRPGs to be fascinating and worth taking the time to engage with all the weird little nuances and seeing what shakes out. Also, the first group, "TTRPG as fancy board game" is definitely the older and more widespread one. I kind of get the impression that the second group largely got into D&D through actual play podcasts, but I don't have any actual data to back that up. So, if you're in the second group, who thinks of D&D as basically a context for collaborative storytelling first and a game second, please let me know if I'm wildly misunderstanding how you approach D&D. Because I'm pretty sure it would save us a whole lot of stupid misunderstandings.

[bueckers]

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄 ━━━ 𝐏𝐁

a/n | heavily inspired by that clip of caitlin & gabbie LOL. kind of a blurb

summary: paige gets caught looking at you a certain way on camera while you’re practically fuming during a game.

warning(s): just sexual tension & out of pocket comments, suggestive

pairing: paige bueckers x teammate!reader

The game against NC State was remarkably close, an unexpected challenge for only the second game of the season. As the third quarter dwindled to its final minutes, a sense of frustration began to set in. You found yourself doing everything in your power to gain composure.

The same girl had been targeting you all night, her aggressive play becoming increasingly blatant as the game progressed. Your patience was wearing thin, and when she charged at you once again, a surge of anger propelled you forward, ready to confront her. However, before you could react, Paige, Aubrey, and Ines intervened, stepping in to hold you back before you did something you’d regret.

Geno had benched you, which only added more fuel to the fire. When the other team called a timeout, the rest of the team was sent to the benches, but Paige was quick to run over to you. As soon as the whistle blew, you got out of my seat and jogged over to the referee, determined to explain that he had made the wrong call. He had been the entire game. Your frustration, however, got the better of you, and your words came out heated. The referee was clearly unimpressed with your complaints and wasn’t budging.

Paige stepped in front of you, concluding your one-sided heated conversation with the referee. She grabbed your arm with one hand and placed the other on your lower back to guide you away. “C’mere,” she mumbled, steering you back to the bench. You sat down, a little calmer than before but still huffing and puffing that you hadn’t gotten to say everything you wanted to.

Paige sat next to you, her entire body turned in your direction as she nearly fell off the seat. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and she knew exactly what to do to get you to calm down. “Talk to me,” she threw out huskily, knowing you had to actually get what you had to say out before resting. You were already on it.

“That girl has been all over me all night,” you began, words tumbling out in a rush. “Do you know how many fouls I’ve been cheated out of? It’s like she’s got it out for me. And the refs are fucking blind to it—this is bullshit..”

As you rambled on, Paige couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. She was perplexed at how you could look so good even while angry. Her eyes darted between yours and your lips the entire time, her lips slightly parted. Though you were loud, she barely heard a word, her ears blocking out all of the trash talk you let flow. Paige was captivated, caught between her desire to comfort you with reassuring words and letting you take her in the locker room after the game, which seemed to intensify with every fiery word you spoke.

Her head rested in one of her hands, and just as you finished speaking you turned to her, catching her lingering gaze on your lips. This out of all things made you crack a smile. “Paige,” you snapped her out of her short daze, her eyes averting back to yours.

“Yeah?” she mumbled, sitting up straighter now as she reached her hands behind her head to adjust her ponytail.

Your eyes followed her without your head moving for a moment, your smile only growing bigger as you realized why she was staring at you that way. “What?” she questioned, her smile being heard through it, faking her oblivion as she looked at you.

“You’re so fucking horny, bro.” you shook your head, smiling bright at her as she threw her head back, laughing, but she didn’t disagree. What you didn’t know, was that your interaction was caught on camera being televised—and of course screen recorded.

user1. lip readers get on this 😭

user2. Paige is down bad CONFIRMED

user3. The way she’s looking at her omg I physically can’t

user4. PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS!?!?

user5. are they dating?

user6. No

user7. I hope so

user8. nooo way this is real LMFAOOO

user9. her eyes shifting between her lips and eyes ohhh she’s so down bad

user10. FRIENDS DON’T LOOK AT FRIENDS THAT WAY!?!?

user11. wouldn’t be surprised if they’re fucking

user12. these comments are crazy as hell 😭

[wynnyfryd]

@messessentialist told me her friend called to rant about spotting an “upsettingly beautiful boy in a tj maxx” and i vomited 1200 words about it, enjoy

—

fic idea: chrissy and eddie work together at tj maxx. one afternoon a guy comes in who’s so hot that it kinda just pisses eddie off? bc like, who does this gorgeous asshole think he is??? coming in here and popping his hip at eddie’s counter, like, does he even know how uncomfortable it is to start chubbin’ up in skinny jeans?? that shit chafes!

so eddie gets all flustered and responds by getting an attitude with the guy because he has zero chill (and also because the dude’s iced coffee is sweating a ring all over eddie’s counter, and so help him if his manager gets on his ass one more time about keeping his station tidy—)

“did you need help finding anything else today?” eddie sneers. “coasters, perhaps?”

upsettingly hot guy looks confused for a second before he follows eddie’s pointed glance at the plastic starbucks cup leaving a cold puddle on the laminate, and then he sneers right back; adjusts the ray bans nestled in his perfect honey brown hair and looks eddie up and down — long, slow, one eyebrow lifting in subtle elitist disapproval.

“what?” he snorts, “hot topic wasn’t hiring?”

oh, fuck you very much!

so eddie’s all ‘nemesis acquired’ and holds the biggest grudge of all time. makes a sworn enemy and a boogeyman out of the guy, turns him into urban legend, starts blaming the Upsettingly Beautiful Man for every little thing that goes wrong in his life — at work, at home, at band practice; no place is safe from the dreaded UBM.

“he’s not a fucking cryptid!” gareth snaps one day at rehearsal, chucking a drumstick at eddie’s head. “just track him down and bone already so you can shut the hell up!”

“wouldn’t he just talk about him more after they have sex?” jeff wonders, to which gareth narrows his eyes and raises his second drumstick as a threat.

meanwhile, eddie’s cute coworker chrissy (who he’s become surprisingly good friends with, to the point of referring to her as his work wife) gets a girlfriend. robin’s sooooo pretty, and soooo nice, and sooooo tall, eddie, did you know how tall she is?

yes, chrissy, he’s supremely aware of a stranger’s five-foot-eight-and-a-half stature now, thank you.

“you have to meet her!” chrissy gushes, bouncing up onto her toes.

eddie hangs another shirt. “you have to chill.”

“hey!” she pouts, pixar princess cute. “you wouldn’t tell the sun to dull its shine, would you?”

“i mean, i would, but i doubt the giant ball of plasma cares what i want.”

“okay, whatever, eeyore.” she rolls her eyes but she physically can’t stop beaming even as she does it, and eddie finds himself melting under it — some sort of radiant area attack coming from the apples of this girl’s cheeks, he swears, because the next thing he knows he’s agreeing to go to rando new girlfriend’s housewarming party this weekend so he can meet her properly.

only he doesn’t get to meet her properly, because when he shows up to the party the two bedroom apartment is packed with people he’s never seen, and it’s loud as fuck in here and he’s sweating through his leather from the six flights of stairs he had to climb to reach the place, so he steps through a sliding door out to the balcony and lo and behold, if it isn’t Upsettingly Beautiful Man looking upsettingly beautiful — positively fucking divine, actually, the last wisps of fuchsia sunset catching the gold streaks in his hair and dotting the tip of his flawless nose. Seriously, does this dude have any flaws? A scar, a birthmark, an unsightly ingrown hair? Eddie can’t even see a single blackhead for fuck’s sake.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” the dude mutters, turning to look at him, and, “oh, my god, you again?”

“uh.”

“i’ve got a fucking coaster this time,” the guy says, lifting his solo cup and giving it a little shake to point out the cork round sitting underneath it, “so if that’s what you came out here to berate me for, then you’ll have to think of something else.”

“uh,” eddie says again, because he has no idea what brought this on but he’s pretty sure it has shit all to do with him, and pretty boy’s really working himself up now, arms moving in sharp gestures as he paces back and forth on the short balcony.

“not that it even matters if i didn’t have a coaster, because this is my house! i can do what i want with my own fucking stuff in my own fucking apartment, nance, i don’t— uh…”

pretty boy’s face blossoms rose petal red, a heavy blush creeping up his jawline as he catches himself mid rant and folds in on himself, crossing his arms over his chest with a sheepish expression.

eddie’s always had a thing for shepherding.

“i’m listening,” he says, popping a cigarette in his mouth and holding the pack out in offering. “if you care to vent.”

the guy — steve, eddie finds out — tells him all about his controlling ex-girlfriend as they work their way through two cigarettes each, the sun slipping away to reveal a full topaz moon, big and low and close, ripe citrus bending the branch of a tree. nance was a real piece of work by the sounds of it, and eddie feels like an absolute shit for the way he treated steve, who had apparently just gotten dumped the night before they met and had been out shopping for a “please take me back” present.

“like that was ever gonna work,” steve mumbles, ashing over the railing. “pathetic. anyway, sorry i was rude to you that day or whatever.”

“you weren’t.”

“nah, i was.” steve shifts his weight, knocks their shoulders together. “not that you didn’t deserve it.”

“yeahhhh,” eddie agrees, cringing at himself. “sorry.”

“all good. so what’s your story then, huh? who pissed in your cheerios that day?”

eddie blames the alcohol fumes wafting from steve’s cup — a justification that makes perfect sense and would totally hold up in a court of law — for what he says next.

“honestly? you.”

steve’s face is so cartoonishly offended that eddie busts out laughing, eyes crinkling, head thrown back.

“oh, so you’re just an asshole,” steve nods sagely. “first cute guy to flirt with me in six weeks is a lunatic. love that for me.”

“no, i—” eddie laughs, “okay, we’re coming back to how you think i’m cute, but i just meant, uh-”

oh, fuck it. eddie’s never been good at holding his cards close to the chest. more of a 52 pick up kinda guy, historically, and why change now?

“you were so gorgeous it, like, genuinely upset me for a second,” eddie admits, running his tongue over his lip. he stubs out his cigarette; turns to look right at steve. “like, uh, like cuteness aggression or some shit.”

steve mirrors his posture, leaning an elbow on the railing, nearly chest to chest. “so you are crazy,” he smiles.

“that’s correct.” eddie swallows.

steve moves in to close the gap. “good crazy?”

“fun crazy, so i’m told.”

“i’m gonna kiss you if that’s cool.”

“very”

the kiss tastes like ripe citrus

[smutoperator]

Art of Escape

Kim Minjeong (Winter), Fukutomi Tsuki x Male Reader

Tags: ahegao, boat sex, creampie, cum licking, doggystyle, dream girlfriend, facial, kissing-and-fucking, (a little) lesbian, mating press, passionate sex, (lots of) oral sex, prone bone, public sex, pussy eating, riding, threesome, voyeurism

Word count: 5155.

Hyundai Yacht Seoul Club, May 9th, 2024

It was just a regular morning for a rich dude like you, anchoring your boat at the Hyundai Yacht Club, completely unaware it was about to host an event for a major brand. As you got there, a blonde girl caught your attention.

Once the event was finished, you approached her. "What's your name?" you asked. "I'm Winter," she said. "Are you sure? Because you're hotter than summer," you told her. "You're not the first to tell me this," she said.

Your first attempt seemed to have backfired, but Winter quickly opened herself up. She was very cute and witty, and you two were quickly talking a lot. After a while, you made an invitation to her.

"Want to ride on my boat?" you asked Winter. "Oh, I would love it," she told you. You detached the boat from the pier and set sail on the river, quickly leaving your boat on autopilot to spend time with Winter on the yacht's main deck. You two had just known each other but were already hugging and kissing like longtime lovers.

"It's so beautiful in here," Winter said about the view. "But is it more beautiful than you?" you asked her, making Winter blush. Her pale skin turning red made her look even prettier. Little did you know, she was about to get much bolder.

"Can I take your pants off?" She asked you, who at first hesitated. "Nobody will see it," she said. Indeed, after the yacht had set sail, you two were just a pair of dots that could barely be seen from the river's banks.

"Let me suck that cock," Winter said to you. Who didn't know such a cute girl could be this naughty? Getting a public blowjob wasn't a fantasy you had on the top of your list, but surely it was quickly rising up your rankings as Winter slowly wrapped her lips around your shaft, kissing and licking it while slowly bobbing her head down it. Her very calm pace of sucking your dick made every licking she gave it even better, as she took her time to run her mouth all over your length.

"I love your taste," Winter said as she kissed your tip. You just gave her free reign, amazed at her great cocksucking skills. Her cute smile contrasted with her sexy tongue, which was making killer moves on your pecker. "Oh, my love, you're so good at that," you told her. "Because I want to have it all," Winter replied.

Winter continued to suck your cock in the middle of the river, not caring about the surroundings. As a matter of fact, if a boat spotted both of you, even better. The cute girl turned into a naughty slut when no one was looking. Her mouth was full of cock, just the way she liked it. But little did she know she had company alongside her on the yacht itself.

"You seem to be enjoying it, Minjeong unnie," Tsuki said out of nowhere. She had followed Winter and you to the boat and was watching her sucking your cock for a couple minutes. "Who is she? Also, Minjeong? Didn't you tell me your name was Winter?" you asked. At the event in the yacht club, you were so focused on Winter that you forgot there was another girl beside her at the event. 

"Her name is Tsuki; she was at the Polo event with me. And yeah, my real name is Minjeong; Winter is just the stage name." Winter explained. "So, are you a model? Actress?" you tried to guess. "Well, not quite; we are singers," she continued. "I wish I had seen her there, because she's very cute as well," you told Winter. "So, Tsuki, do you want to join us?" you asked back.

"You didn't even have to ask," Tsuki replied. "Come here and try it," Winter said to her. "Wow!" Tsuki was impressed by the size of your cock. "She's good, isn't she?" Winter asked you. "Very good," you replied.

But more than Tsuki's abilities to suck cock, what impressed you the most were her facial expressions while doing so. They were a treat on their own. The way she rolled her eyes and moved her facial muscles with your cock in her throat was something else. You weren't aware it was what made her famous in the first place, so it was fairly new to you to see a girl sucking cock while making such crazy expressions.

Tsuki, let Winter have your cock again. Even without it in her mouth, she kept doing her crazy moves, especially while licking your shaft to the side. Her and Winter shared a kiss with your tip right in the middle of it, making you go crazy. "That's such a dream," you told them.

After a couple more minutes of cock-sucking, Winter and Tsuki stripped themselves naked and started kissing each other. You watched them before you took your clothes off yourself. "You like that?" Winter asked as Tsuki gave her a big smile. The two kept the kissing going, with Winter now moving her mouth all over Tsuki's neck, which made the Japanese girl pull off another hot facial expression. 

"She's so tall and pretty." Winter praised Tsuki's visuals as she now kissed her bare tits. "So beautiful," she said, massaging Tsuki's boobs further, a move she was very well-versed at after doing it so often to Karina in Aespa's dorm rooms.

"I'm getting so horny massaging her tits," Winter tells you. "Me too," Tsuki says right after. "Me too," you say, but it takes too long, as the girls are back into kissing each other under your watch.

You soon join the fun, surprising Tsuki from behind as you run your hands into her body. "Ready to share her?" Winter asks you before commanding Tsuki to lay down on her back.

Tsuki spreads her legs and lies down, showing off the fat outer lips on her pussy. "Such a pretty pussy," Winter tells you as she bends over. "I wanna taste it," she says, diving down the Japanese girl's folds. Tsuki rolls her eyes and keeps doing her facial expression show. "Let's try it together," Winter kisses you as you take your first dibs into Tsuki's clit.

Winter moves into kissing Tsuki's thighs, letting you take care of her pussy by yourself. Tsuki starts to moan as she now looks like an anime character with their eyes closed. But things get even hotter as a trio of lips now share a kiss: yours, Winter's, and Tsuki's pussy.

You and Winter move your tongues together along Tsuki's folds, paying special attention to her clit. Tsuki just moans as both of you move your tongues up and down her folds, blowing the air from your noses into her insides. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be kissing such a beautiful girl while licking another's cunt at the same time. This feels like heaven on Earth.

Winter and you trade blows eating Tsuki's pussy. It turns out Winter's oral skills aren't just applicable to cocks; she really knows how to eat a pussy well, feasting all over Tsuki's meaty folds, making them throb and pulse each time she licks them. Winter does it so well that you make sure to kiss her as soon as she is done, trying to taste as much as you can of Tsuki's pussy flavor in her mouth.

Minjeong spreads Tsuki's pussy lips further for you to tongue the Japanese girl even deeper. You two keep teaming up as Tsuki's moans grow louder. "Wow, I've never had my pussy eaten like this before," Tsuki says. Winter is clearly the star of the show; her kissing and tonguing of Tsuki's pussy are otherworldly and drive the Japanese girl wild.

"I think he wants some attention too," Winter says, letting Tsuki stand up to kiss you. Minjeong is truly selfless, putting her partner's pleasure over hers. Tsuki and her team up on your cock once again, but Winter goes straight to your balls, letting Tsuki take your shaft all by herself. Groans come out of your mouth as they prove to be a killer combo, with Winter even trying to match Tsuki's ahegao antics while engulfing your testicles.

"Fuck," you curse for the first time as Tsuki deepthroats you and gives you a big smile, bobbing her head without needing to use her hands to work on your shaft. Down low, Winter is just amazing, heating up your balls perfectly while letting Tsuki lick your shaft like an ice cream.

"I want it too," Winter says in a rare selfish act, snatching your cock away from Tsuki. I can't blame her. That shaft is just too big not to get a good taste of Minjeong's sexy mouth. Winter is really horny, her nipples already fully erected as she fulfills her public sex fantasies staring at the amazing views from the Han River.

Winter clearly brings some extra heat compared to the first time sucking your cock. Tsuki smiles as she watches Minjeong go full slutty for your big dick, kissing you while massaging your balls. Winter stays focused, showing off how well she has perfected the art of oral sex. On and off the stage, Winter is a real ace.

"Wow, she's so hungry," Tsuki says as she takes another turn on your cock. Winter doesn't rest, though, going right back towards more ball-licking. "Oh my God, you two are killing me," you tell them. "Glad you like it," Winter says.

You passionately kiss Winter's cock-flavored mouth. She truly feels like a girl who's from another universe, sent by some mystical creature that wanted to bless you. It doesn't hurt that she has a hot, sexy friend as well.

"Let's take it together," Winter says as Tsuki and her team up to lick your shaft. The girls get their mouths close to each other and lick your snake like a pair of snakes poisoning their prey. Tsuki moves down to your balls while Winter keeps licking that hard pole. Even the birds want to watch them work on your cock as a few land on your yacht, just as the two beautiful girls increase their pace of sucking.

"Suck that cock," Winter tells Tsuki using a soft voice, pushing the Japanese girl's head down that dick before doing it herself. The two keep taking turns getting your cock covered in spit. Until Minjeong finally tells her next move.

"I want it inside me," Winter says to you. "Ohhh, you're really horny today, unnie," Tsuki says right after. "Come to me," you tell Winter, putting her head on Tsuki's belly, who assists you by inserting your cock right at Winter's pussy.

You groan the moment you get inside Minjeong. Her walls are ultra tight and squeeze you right from the beginning. You slowly push it up as Tsuki fingers Winter's pussy. "Get deeper inside me," Winter demands. "Let me see that big cock penetrating my pussy," she continues.

"Put it all in. Fuck me," Winter says. She's so cute giving you those commands; her nipples are fully hard as Tsuki rubs her hands on them. You two quickly develop great chemistry as you passionately fuck Minjeong, as she sexily moans every time your cock bulges under her skinny belly.

"It feels so good," Winter moans as you get deeper inside her tight pussy, picking up the pace as you share kisses with Tsuki before moving down to kiss Winter herself. "I love your cock," Minjeong tells you, who never thought missionary fucking could be this hot.

"I want more; take it deep in my pussy," Winter cutely commands. You happily oblige, as if you were using the keys to open the gates of heaven every time you stretch her out. The clapping noises emanate from her body as you fuck her faster and harder.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," Winter keeps moaning as you go even deeper. "Yes, fuck me," she moans again as Tsuki rubs her. You get addicted to her pussy. "You like it?" you ask her. "Yes, I love it so much," Minjeong replies. Everything about her is so genuine. 

"Fuck that pussy, ahhhhh," Winter demands. You are amazed at how cute she still looks, even with that long cock deep in her cunt. Winter becomes fully submissive to your cock as you now pound her in a mating press. "Ahhhh, such a big, big cock," she says, emphasizing your size.

"Ahhh, make my pussy cream," Winter orders to you. Her juices can be seen at your shaft every time you pump out of her hole. You take her balls deep as she praises your cock every time you hit it in her cunt. "Ahhhh, you're so deep inside me," she continues.

"Keep going, all the way in," Winter says. You fuck her harder than ever. "Yeah, yeah, just stretch that pussy," she continues. You can't focus on anything except pounding it. Tsuki becomes just an afterthought in the background as your eyes are all on Minjeong. And more than your eyes, your cock is hyperfocused on destroying her tight pink pussy.

Winter's walls squeeze your cock just as you kiss her beautiful lips. You can't resist anymore, and you paint her insides white. It feels like you fucked her for over an hour, but you could barely last for five minutes inside her tight pussy.

But Minjeong isn't done. "I want to cum all over that cock," she tells you, making you put your cock back in her cream-filled pussy and quickly regain your erection. "Make me cum, baby," Winter tells you, who slowly fucks her pussy as a mix of cum and juices coats your shaft, with Winter getting closer to orgasm as Tsuki rubs her perky little tits and kisses Minjeong's moaning mouth.

"Faster, baby," Winter says as her voice gets more and more out of breath. She fingers herself and starts cumming nonstop as you kiss her while burying your big cock deep in her pussy. The warmth of her wet insides filled with your cum is such an amazing feeling that you make sure to enjoy every second of it.

"And now me?" Tsuki asks as you finally pull out of Winter. "My friend can't wait," Minjeong comments. "I'm very horny, just like you," Tsuki says. "Then come here," you tell her, after giving Winter's pussy a final kiss.

Tsuki gets on all fours as you and Winter rub your hands over her body, paying special attention to her cute butt. "Put your dick inside me; I need it," she says. After a little tease, you grant her wish, with just the feeling of your tip inside her cunt making Tsuki moan.

You and Winter share kisses as you slowly thrust inside Tsuki's pussy. Once again, Tsuki pulls off an incredible show with her facial expressions. But Winter's smile as you fuck her friend is just as good. You let Winter have a taste of your cock, now mixed with her juices and Tsuki's. Winter savors it for a good 30 seconds before putting your shaft back inside Tsuki.

Tsuki closes her eyes and moans even harder as Winter puts her tongue in the Japanese girl's asshole. "Fuck my pussy and eat my ass out, ahhhh" is all Tsuki can say in between more and more moans. "You like it?" Winter asks Tsuki. "Yes," she replies, struggling to even say those simple words as you put extra heat in her pussy.

Winter lays down in front of Tsuki, letting her friend finger her perfect pink pussy. "Come here, baby," Tsuki tells her, pushing Winter's body further close as she dives into Minjeong's pussy. Just as she does it, you pick up the pace much further. Tsuki smiles as your cock makes her pussy cream and her mouth makes Winter's do the same.

"That's so fucking good," Tsuki says as you pump her pussy harder and make her tits jiggle. "You look so pretty getting fucked like this," Winter tells her. She buries her face in Winter's pussy even further in response. "Hmmm, you like that big cock inside that pussy, don't you?" Winter asks. Tsuki answers positively, but it gets muffled by her mouth being all over Minjeong's folds.

"She's such a good girl, being the perfect sleeve for that cock," Winter says about Tsuki to you. "Ahhh, fuck," Tsuki moans as Minjeong does it. You rub your hands all over Tsuki's ass, giving it a little tap. "You like to be slapped?" you ask her. "Hmmmm," Tsuki says.

"Make her pussy cream; slap her hard," Winter orders you, who obviously follow. Tsuki's pale skin is built to get slapped; you love how quickly her ass turns heads. "Ouch!" she screams as you tap her sensitive and cute ass. Winter and her share kisses as you pound Tsuki hard and deep.

"I've never done something like this before," Winter tells Tsuki as she massages her tits. "Me too," Tsuki says, already out of breath as you keep fucking her. "Show her who's in control; get on top of her," Winter orders you, ready to get much spicier.

You mount on top of Tsuki while your cock is still deep in her pussy. "Oh, fuck," Tsuki says as she's about to get turned into a submissive cocksleeve. You and Winter kiss each other as she enjoys watching Tsuki get plowed. But no one enjoys it more than the Japanese fucktoy, who smiles and makes a lot of naughty faces as you manhandle her cunt.

"YEAH. OH. OH. OH. OH." Tsuki moans. "Fuck her like she's your bitch," Winter keeps demanding. You hammer Tsuki like a bull while staring at Minjeong's beautiful and lustful eyes. Tsuki just closes her eyes as her pussy gets utterly destroyed. "OH MY GOD," she says as you pound her to submission, looking now at the perfect sight of her body on all fours while Winter licks her chops, wishin she was at Tsuki's place.

"Put it back; I want more," Tsuki asks when you give her a little relief. She rests her head on the boat's floor as you keep plowing her, fingering herself as she approaches her orgasm. "Yes, yes, yes," Tsuki says in a barely audible manner, her mouth fully open like the one of an onahole. 

But you just can't stop fucking that juicy and tight Japanese pussy. Winter gives Tsuki's head a little kiss and then asks her, "Ready to cum?" Tsuki can't even answer as she looks at you, fucking her like a toy and wishing you could do this to her forever. "Keep going like that," she says, but her voice is so weak now that you barely hear it.

"I'm gonna cum," Tsuki whispers, but loud enough for both of you to hear. Winter loves when those words come from her mouth, making a shocked expression of her own. "Make her cum," she just says, smiling as she watches Tsuki close her eyes and open her mouth to the fullest as her pussy creams all over your cock. With it still deep inside her, you give Tsuki short but fast thursts. "HMMM. HMMM. HMMM. HMMM. HMMMM," she moans, reaching her orgasm with your cock hitting all the way into her cervix.

"Oh God," Tsuki says with a big smile on her face as she stares at you. But Winter is quick to give you another kiss as you slow down until you pull out of Tsuki. "Come here to taste it." You stand up and tell both girls as they get on their knees, ready to worship that cock. Winter arrives first on the scene. "Let me taste your pussy," she tells Tsuki, sucking your big cock without using her hands. Tsuki then follows suit as the two sloppily bob their heads on your prick before placing it in between their mouths.

"Stay like this," you tell the girls, who smile at each other. Winter is the happiest one, as she looks behind and sees you getting ready to take her pussy again, this time from behind. You line your cock up against her entrance so perfectly that you don't even need to use your hands to adjust. Minjeong closes her eyes as her pussy gets slowly stretched out.

"Ahhhh," Winter moans with a sexy smile on her face. You take it slow as her moans get more prolonged with each thrust you give her. "Tell me about it," Tsuki asks Minjeong. "It's... so... big," it's all she can say. But it's the truth after all, as she enjoys your nine-inch monster stretching her out in a prone-bone position. "Ok," Tsuki tells her in such a manner that you can tell she's bragging about taking it like a champion just moments ago.

Winter kisses Tsuki as your cock gets deeper and deeper inside her. You're very passionate, not wanting to hurt your beautiful lover. "Even full of dick, you still look so cute, Minjeong unnie," Tsuki says. She's telling the truth. Winter is truly capable of being the cutest girl in the world, no matter what she's doing.

Winter gets surprised when you finally commit to getting into the depths of her cunt. "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh," she lets out successive moans. But you stay deep inside her as Minjeong's walls clench around your cock. "Oh, my God," she says. You don't even need to thrust inside her anymore; your meat and her cunt are perfectly interlocked now. It's like the sword in the stone myth, and whoever manages to pull you out of Minjeong will be crowned king.

"This is so good; you're so tight," you tell Winter. "I'm curious to see how your friend takes it," you continue, moving sideways to take on Tsuki next. "She's ready for you." Winter says this as you two kiss each other again.

Tsuki softly moans, as she's next in line. The slow pumps you give her already make her roll her eyes. Winter smiles as she stares at Tsuki, who's struggling to take your cock deep in her pussy. "Yesss, ahhhhh," Tsuki moans as you start clapping against her cheeks. Winter, as the dream girlfriend, gets all the kisses. Meanwhile, for the slutty Tsuki, all she gets is pounding after pounding from your hard cock.

You quickly increase the speed, brining a lot of heat into Tsuki's pussy, her body getting pressed to the floor at each thurst. Winter never thought of herself as a voyeur before, but she really enjoys watching her friend get plowed. "Ohhh, God, fuck," Tsuki says as you pin her completely to the floor, stretching your hands to grope her perky tits.

"YESSS, AHHHH, AHHHH," Tsuki moans under Winter's watchful eyes. At this point, Minjeong is licking her chops, amazed as she watches both of you engage in a torrid sex session. Tsuki is really the perfect fucktoy to pound against the floor of your boat, as she covers it with the juices leaking out from her pussy. "You're hitting her so deeply; I love it," Winter says. Tsuki can only laugh to hide how she gets increasingly sensitive and throbs harder at each new thrust you give her.

"So deep, I like that," Tsuki says as you get completely on top of her, all while sharing kisses with Winter. Her eyes roll, and her tongue sticks out as you make her cum. "That's so good, oh yeah," Tsuki says, barely able to feel her legs now. You even give her a double massage: your hands press her shoulders up top while your meat presses her cunt down low. Even after she cums, Tsuki wants more. "Go back, please," she tells you, who obliges and gives her a few extra thrusts into her throbbing vagina, kissing her and Winter when you're finally done.

"I want something from you girls now," you tell them. "One of them is riding my cock while the other sits on my face," you say. Tsuki kisses you and quickly offers the pussy you just destroyed for you to savor. Winter dives into your cock and warms it up for the ride of her life. The Japanese girl gets the early pleasure, as you are already licking her folds before Winter can even position herself to get impaled by your monster cock.

Winter starts riding your cock, and you feel blessed. The view. The girls. The sex. This day couldn't have gone more perfect for you. It feels like heaven to have two girls using your body as a way to please themselves to the fullest.

As you tongue Tsuki's pussy harder, Minjeong increases the pace of her ride. Their moans blend with each other, and you can't tell which one is getting the most pleasure. But by the way their folds gush all over your tongue and cock, you can tell they are having a lot of it. Tsuki runs her hands over Winter's pale butt as the snow girl gives you such a hot ride that it could make your cock melt. "You're working on this cock so well," Tsuki says, impressed at Minjeong's riding skills.

Winter spreads her cheeks as she lets you thrust upwards against her tight pussy. Every time you get to hit her cervix, she lets out an out-of-breath moan, and her asshole involuntarily winks. Loud noises come out as the hips of both of you clash against each other. Minjeong doesn't hold back, meeting your thursts full of enthusiasm and moaning the loudest she's done so far.

The riding keeps going on as Minjeong shows no signs of slowing down. Out of all positions, cowgirl might be her favorite. She loves the feeling of taking control and stuffing herself full of cock, and she seems to be easily winning the battle now, bouncing on your pole at full speed and enjoying when Tsuki pushes her further down and impales her to the max against your cock.

More time passes by, and Winter keeps going on with her cock-riding show. You and Tsuki basically forget about anything, taking all your focus away from watching the Queen Minjeong ride spectacle. Winter feels flaunted as all eyes are on her, giving all her effort. She is truly the living proof of the planet getting warmer than ever, because you've never seen a hotter Winter than the one on top of your cock.

Tsuki gets out of your face to take a privileged seat at Winter, making your cock melt. The Japanese girl masturbates herself as watching Minjeong get impaled proves to be a massive turn-on for her. "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh, Oh my God, Oh my God," Winter manages to outdo herself in cuteness once again, coming up with the softest moans you've seen. Tsuki watches all of it, all her fingers now deep in her cunt. Both she and Winter closed their eyes at the same time and even managed to say the same words together:

"I AM. CUMMING.".

Winter's legs get weaker as she rests her body on top of yours, only to be surprised by a gush of squirt coming off Tsuki's pussy. You're so addicted to her pussy you don't pull out at any moment, kissing Minjeong as her face gets within your range and giving her waist and butt a little massage. Winter finally pulls out, staring at Tsuki creaming herself, and then gives the Japanese girl the final command.

"Finish him," Winter tells her, getting your cock wet for one final round of pussy pounding. Her heavenly mouth almost makes Minjeong fulfill her own command by herself, as you have to pinch yourself not to cum. Tsuki saves you at the last second, offering you her tits and mouth for you to kiss. 

Tsuki gets a taste of your cock before she sits on it. Doing so in reverse cowgirl, she tells who the audience of her cock-riding show will be: she wants to do it looking at Minjeong's beautiful face and show her first and foremost her best facial expressions.

Winter pushes Tsuki's hair down to get a better view of her face as the Japanese girl finally takes a sit on your prick. Tsuki rides it as Winter stares at her stretched-out pussy. You two put on a great show for Minjeong to watch as Tsuki runs her hands all over your shaft while bouncing on it. Winter stays with one hand fully attached to her pussy, the other rubbing your thighs to get you even closer to the edge.

You grab Tsuki's waist, trying to tame her, but she barely flinches. Fully committed to the mission Winter gave her, she rides you even harder, massaging your balls to add some extra spice. Winter aides her, licking her chops as she sees some sticky liquids straight out of Tsuki's cunt coating your shaft.

"Fuck him hard, make him cum," Winter keeps ordering as Tsuki gets your cock inside her all the way down to your balls. You start losing control and plow upwards against her pussy, making splashy noises when you hit her deep, as her cunt is extremely wet now. Tsuki opens her mouth to the fullest every time you hit her cervix, her ahegao getting crazier the more cock she takes.

Tsuki turns into a moaning mess as you two fuck like crazy animals. Winter can't believe what she's seeing, making shocked expressions as she watches you stuff Tsuki's cunt. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM," Tsuki says as her legs close and she starts orgasming, expelling your cock out of her pussy. "Put it back, put it back," she demands, her voice completely lost at this point. Tsuki masturbates herself as she creams all over your cock.

"Wow, that's beautiful," Winter says as Tsuki opens her legs back up. Minjeong places her hand over her lips and licks her chops as the intense pounding gets replaced by a passionate fucking, with Tsuki making one final wish.

"I want to see your cum covering all of my face," she tells you. As soon as you pull out, you start jerking off to Winter and Tsuki faces side by side. It doesn't take long before blasts of semen come out of your dick and paint Tsuki's face white as she sticks her tongue out in glee after you grant her wish.

Winter quickly comes up and licks the cum from Tsuki's face as the two swap it in their mouths in front of you. "Thanks; that was amazing," Minjeong kindly says. "I can't wait to rock your boat again," Tsuki completes.

The girls get dressed as you bring them back to where it all started. As they leave your boat at the yacht club, it seems like another typical fashion event for the brand they were endorsing.

But the truth is, in that day, Kim Minjeong and Fukutomi Tsuki mastered the art of escape. 

------------------------------

I'd like to give a shoutout to @haiabd as they wrote a very similarly themed smut also featuring Winter and that boat event from last month. We went with slightly different focuses and partners (I picked Tsuki, they picked Chaewon, their smut features anal, mine doesn't). But every time something like this happens, I mention the other author. In the end, I wholeheartedly agree with them when they started their story saying: "These Winter pics are so good so I had to write about them", so I did the same.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Tennis || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

MASTERLIST

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sarah’s voice is laced with disbelief, her eyes wide as they fixate on a distant point behind you.

“What?” you ask, lowering your racquet and turning to follow her gaze. The unmistakable roar of a motorbike engine grows louder, reverberating through the air. A sleek black bike speeds towards you, its rider’s identity obscured by a matte black helmet.

“Rafe, what are you doing here?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips as you step forward. Rafe’s eyes soften as he approaches you. “I just wanted to check on you,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “Make sure everything’s good.”

Sarah crosses her arms, her earlier shock giving way to irritation. “Seriously, Rafe? You literally saw her this morning. Can’t you let her breathe?”

Rafe’s smirk fades slightly, his expression hardening. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Sarah,” he retorts coldly. His focus shifts back to you, his gaze intense but filled with affection. “So, who’s winning?”

You grin and point to yourself. “Me, obviously.” Rafe’s smirk returns, his eyes glinting with pride. “Atta girl,” he says, his tone filled with admiration.

Sarah lets out an exaggerated gag, rolling her eyes. “Oh my god, you two are nauseating,” she jokes, trying to mask her amusement with disdain.

Rafe chuckles, his gaze still fixed on you. “So, are you coming to Topper’s party later tonight?” You chuckle—you knew knew Rafe too well—shaking your head slightly. “Are you asking me or telling me to go?” you smirk up at him, a hand coming up your face to shield the sun from your eyes as Rafe takes the chance to peek down at your cleavage from your sports bra.

Rafe’s smirk deepens, a familiar glint in his eye. “What do you think?” he says, his tone playful but leaving little doubt about his intentions. You laugh, feeling a mix of exasperation and warmth. You glance at Sarah who’s already staring at you before looking back at Rafe. “I’ll be there.”

Rafe’s expression softens, a rare moment of vulnerability showing through his usual bravado. “Good. I’ll see you there.” As Rafe gets back on his bike, Sarah nudges you with her elbow. “You two are so gross, you know that?” she teases, a smile tugging at her lips despite her words.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, waving her off but unable to suppress your own smile. “Kinda your fault for introducing us.” Sarah chuckles, shaking her head. “Well, I introduced you two, but I didn’t expect you to start sucking each other’s faces on the first day,” she retorts with mock indignation, her playful tone echoing across the court as she returns to her side.

[uzurakis]

could you maybe write when reader throws an engagement / promise ring at jjk characters (please include gojo) during an argument? i love your work btw😩🙏

PROMISE? BROKEN!

featuring: gojo satoru. nanami kento. fushiguro megumi. choso kamo.

n. thankchu for liking my works, it means a ton to me nonnie XD u ask and i shall deliver !

the tension in the room was thick and neither of you seemed willing to back down. voices raised, accusations flew, and frustration mounted. finally, in a fit of anger and hurt, you yanked off your engagement ring and threw it across the room. it landed with a small clink on the floor, the sound echoing in the sudden silence that followed.

GOJO SATORU. gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he was speechless. then, in the midst of that, one irritatingly smug lips played on his face as he tried to lighten the mood. "wow, you’ve got quite the arm," he joked, he literally. just. joked.

his tone playful despite the situation. "maybe you should try out for the baseball team." you glared at him, intensely, still fuming. "this isn’t a joke, satoru!"

still joking around, held up his hands in mock surrender, stepping closer to you. "hey, i get it. you’re mad. but throwing jewelry? that's a new one, baby.” he teased, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

you crossed your arms, trying to maintain your anger. "i’m serious, satoru. this isn’t something you can just laugh off."

he sighed, his expression softening as he reached out to gently take your hands in his. "i know, i know," he said, his voice more serious now as he picked up your ring from the floor. "but you know me. i joke when i’m nervous. and right now, seeing you this upset makes me really nervous. i might piss my pants already, really..”

hesitating, you slowly took the ring from him, the anger starting to melt away. "you really know how to defuse a situation, don’t you?"

the guy grinned, that familiar, mischievous spark returning to him. "it’s one of my many talents. besides, i can’t let my very beautiful fiancée stay mad at me forever, can i?"

NANAMI KENTO. although nanami's body moved briefly, his expression stayed calm and composed. he took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check. “alright,” he said, steady as ever. “let’s pick up the ring and sit down to talk.”

“kento, this isn’t something we can just sit down and talk about like it’s a business meeting.” you weren’t dealing with his cool demeanor.

nanami exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “i know you’re upset, sweetheart. i beg you to not throw our ring again. let’s approach this rationally.”

“you always want to be so practical about everything. sometimes, i need more than just rationality…” you complained.

the guy walked over to where the ring had fallen, bending down to pick it up. he held it out to you, expression sincere. “sweetheart, i understand that and i need you to calm down. but we can’t resolve this if we’re not willing to communicate properly.”

“i just… i feel like you’re not listening to me.” reluctantly, you took the ring from his hand, your pent up starting to wane.

he nodded, eyes meeting yours with genuine concern. “i’m listening. i promise. let’s sit down and talk about this. i want to understand what you’re feeling.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. “really?” he said, voice low and simmering with resentment. his sharp, green eyes were narrowed and those dark eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, casting a slight shadow over his eyes, which were usually so composed. “you’re just going to throw away the ring?”

you glared at him, your chest heaving with the force of your emotions. “you’re not listening to me, fushiguro megumi! you never listen!”

“oh, i’m listening, alright. you think this is helping? throwing our engagement ring?” he scoffed, jaw clenching, muscles tight as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

you felt a wave of regret wash over you, but your pride wouldn’t let you back down. “maybe it’s the only way to get through to you.”

megumi clenched his jaw for the nth time, maybe holding back other words to keep them from lashing out. taking a deep breath as he tried to rein in his anger. “you know what? fine. if that’s how you feel, maybe we both need to cool off.”

he turned away, clearly struggling to keep his composure. the silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. after a few minutes, he took another deep breath and turned back to face you, his expression softer but still strained. “look, i don’t want to fight like this. throwing the ring… it hurt, alright? but let’s not make things worse.”

you looked down, feeling the sting of guilt. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that.”

the man sighed, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “yeah, well, it’s not exactly something you can just take back. but i get it. you’re frustrated. so am i.”

CHOSO KAMO. “no, baby, please,” he pleaded, voice breaking as his heart sank deeper. it felt like time slowed down, the metal glinting in the light before it hit the floor with a dull thud. he moved towards the ring, expression a jumble of desperation and panic. “don’t do this, please.”

you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, at that moment you knew you did such a wrong thing. choso reached the ring and picked it up, clutching it tightly in his hand as if it were a lifeline. “i’m sorry,” he said, turning back to you whilst trembling. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean for it to get this bad. please, let’s talk about this.”

the sight of your fiancée, normally so strong and positive, looking so vulnerable tugged at your heart. “choso, i…”

he took a step closer, holding out the ring to you. “i love you,” he said, being earnest. “i don’t want to lose you over this. can we just sit down and talk? please?”

his genuine remorse washed over you, crawling under your skin. “okay,” you agreed softly, your anger beginning to melt away. “let’s talk.”

choso let out a breath of relief and carefully slipped the ring back onto your finger, “thank you.”

@uzurakis

[cerisereids]

𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 (𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲)- 𝗮.𝗵. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟮]

masterlist, part one

wc- 5.2k

pairing- aaron hotchner x fem!rossi!reader

summary- down on your luck after a huge betrayal, you return to live at your father's house with your tail between your legs. you're humiliated, thoroughly convinced nothing good could come from returning home. then you meet aaron hotchner.

warnings- sfw, age gap (27-mid 40s), i’m spreading the italian american agenda w rossi!reader, reader lowkey has daddy issues but they’re working on it, alcohol use, jack is 7, rich old italian people antics, we love bonding w jack, hotch and r turn each other on w brownies??, insane sexual tension

a/n- dividers from @saradika-graphics and @reveriesources !!!

aaron straightens his tie in the mirror one final time, smoothing his hands down the front of his navy suit jacket.

“jack! let’s go!” he calls up the steps, followed soon by footsteps pattering down the steps.

“i’m coming, dad!” he whines, his voice high pitched, but loving all the same as he exits his bedroom.

aaron can’t help the pride swarming deep in his chest as he looks at his son in his christmas best, clad in a perfectly tailored dark green suit that nearly mirrors his completely. the invite said formal, and aaron doesn’t think he did too poorly. he’d learned to dress himself for work long ago, therefore transferring that knowledge to his son has so far proven to be quite easy. so far.

“alrighty, after you, kiddo,” he smiles down at the boy and holds the front door open with his back. he attempts to find his keys, juggling everything from christmas bags to wine bottles in his grasp, until he feels small fingers reaching into his pants pocket.

“here,” jack states, deadpanned, keyring dangling off his index finger.

“thanks, buddy,” he smiles, “can you hit unlock for me?” he does, which allows aaron to finally free his hands and get them to the party in one piece.

the large house is already bustling, aglow with golden christmas lights laced through the large bushes out front, a jolly statue of santa welcoming whoever may cross the threshold. penelope lets them in, greeting him with a large hug that was no doubt induced by the hard eggnog jj makes every year.

“hi, penelope,” he smiles warmly down at her, pleased to be seeing the people he so deeply cares for in a positive environment, for once.

jack is quick to find henry, off to run amok throughout david’s expansive home. he sets the wine down on the wide kitchen island, cluttered with an array of appetizers, desserts, and various drinks. he pours himself a whiskey, and nearly drops the glass when he turns to exit, stopped in his tracks by her.

“hello, aaron,” the girl before him says gently. her manicured hands coil cunningly around her wine glass, red silk sculpting her figure in a way that makes his brain short circuit.

the sound of his name on her lips takes his breath away, and all he can muster is a hushed, “hi,” he’s unable to take his eyes off you.

his eyes can’t help but dip lower than he let them the other week, committing the peaks and valleys of her curves in that dress to memory. he’s thankful for the vibrant scene surrounding you in the busy kitchen, lest he made it unbearably awkward.

“whatcha got there?” she nods at his drink, and it zaps him back to reality like an electrical shock.

“oh!” he gasps, his gaze snapping down to his glass, “just-whiskey…it seems your father knows what i like,” he smiles sheepishly, his fingers patting against the cold glass.

“one thing italian men never mess around with is good liquor,” she smiles cunningly, stealing the remaining bits of breath from his lungs, “cheers,” she raises her glass to him and he clinks his against it, his eyes never leaving hers for one second.

“nice to see you, aaron,” she coos and places a soft hand on his forearm, wide doe eyes boring into his before exiting the kitchen. her hand lingers on him until it’s no longer physically possible, her nails scraping down his forearm as she goes. a shiver unzips down his spine, both at the touch, and at the sudden loss of her warmth.

“cheers,” he breaths out, after she’s gone. his eyes fall shut in the wake of her perfume, notes of jasmine and cedar left wafting through the air. he can’t help but take a quick inhale, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.

he plows five fingers through his hair before taking a large gulp of whiskey. he needs to get it together. what is he, 15?

a sly whistle approaching from his left keeps him from his spiral. his eyes jokingly roll as he sees derek saunter up to him, penelope close in tow.

“aa-ron hotch-ner,” derek stresses each syllable, clapping his hand on aaron’s shoulder.

aaron hides a smirk behind another sip of the brown liquid in his glass, the smokiness coating his throat.

“now what was all that about?” derek points a thumb in the direction she walked off on, an arm slung over aaron’s shoulder. he purses his lips, gaze tilted downwards to mask the hint of red dusting his cheeks.

“nothing. that was nothing,” he turns to look at derek, and he knows the glint in his eyes gives him away entirely.

“you sly dog,” derek nudges aaron’s shoulder with his own, before leaving him to refill his drink, now alone with penelope.

“sir…” she gives him a knowing stare, leaning her forearms against the kitchen island.

he holds up a finger, eyes wide in an attempt to delay the inevitable, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth, “penelope. don’t,” he asserts, but the childlike giddiness fluttering through his chest invokes a cheeky grin that prevents his sternness from having any real effect.

she lifts her finger, mirroring his, “sir…” she says again, higher pitched this time, a sense of urgency seizing her tone.

“penelope…” he repeats himself, urgent tone matching hers, his eyebrow quirking.

he catches the quickest flash of red from his peripheral, and he double takes, his attention immediately stolen by her lighting up the living room. his heart squeezes with a sudden urge to meet her there, to place his hand on the small of her back and revel in her story, to be there for her. it’s all he’d thought about since he met her, in her father’s kitchen, where he now stands once more.

ever since that godforsaken night, when he needed to borrow a globe of all things, he’s laid awake at night, grasping onto her soft vanilla scent. it was a complete contrast to the seductive aroma she spritzed on for tonight, though she was intoxicating no matter what. he thought of the alcohol on that wafted off her tongue, how badly he wanted to just lean down and taste it.

in his daze, he forgets penelope is there. she follows his line of sight and snaps her gaze back toward him, “sir!” she gushes, her tone incredulous. her smile is scandalous, but proud. it’s a knowing smile, one that knows exactly what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, something he doesn’t really quite know himself yet.

his eyes dart to either side before leaning into her slightly, “we never had this conversation,” he mumbles lowly, raising a pointed brow at her. her eyes widen, because this time, there was no smile masking his intensity.

the flared sleeves of your silk dress fall down your arm, showcasing your tennis bracelets. the gold and diamonds sparkle in the soft glow of golden christmas lights wound through the comically large christmas tree standing proud in the living room. you grasp the stem of your wine glass as you squeeze into the eager arms of uncles, cousins, and old family friends.

old, italian men take up every square inch of the living room, wine glasses in hand, all waiting with rapt anticipation to hear stories from new york. the pride in their eyes prods at your stomach like a fire iron.

you appease them anyway, indulging in emotionally safe memories, like the time you drunkenly walked across the street in the middle of times square just to get a slice of pizza.

that earns you a robust roar of laughter, and the sound reminds you of all the christmases you’ve spent in this very room. the smell of cigars they carry on their suit jackets, the wine that will inevitably stain their mustaches, it all invokes a pang of nostalgia coiling around your heart, squeezing until you’re near tears.

“look at you! our topolina all grown up!” your oldest uncle squeezes your cheeks together, and you gently clasp your free hand around his wrist.

“and she still manages to come see her papà for christmas!” another one of your uncles calls out in sarcastic annoyance. the low mumble of hearty chuckles fills the room, and you force a smile on your lips.

your heart twists around itself as you absorb the loving gazes of the men who have watched you grow, who have rooted for you from the moment you were born. a sinking feeling settles in your stomach, you can’t help but feel you’ve let them all down, you’ve let your father down, by returning here.

when you got accepted into nyu, your family was over the moon. they threw parties, you received gifts, money, one of your uncles even called his real estate buddy over in new york and cut you a deal on an apartment. guilt pools in your stomach like acid, because they don’t know. they don’t know you’re not just here for the holidays, they don’t know about your failure.

a small body knocks you out of your shame-spiral, and you nearly spill your wine on yourself.

“oh! i’m sorry, ma’am!” a young boy exclaims, reaching to pick up the pieces of the toy that clattered to the floor. you smile at the boy, he didn’t mean it after all. the furrow of his brows and stressed tone tells you that much.

“that’s okay, sweetie!” you squat down as much as you can in the silk encasing your body, helping him pick up any remaining pieces he missed, “here you go!”

“thanks!” he smiles toothily at you, and you can’t help but feel a pang of deja vu deep in your chest, like you’ve seen his face somewhere before.

it compels you to ask, “hey, what’s this all about?” referring to his, what seems to be very intricate, lego set.

“it’s a lego plane! could you please help me put it together again?” he grins at you, and you return it.

“of course!” you reply, eager to escape the guilt that’s swirling through your stomach like a whirl pool.

you and the boy, who’s introduced himself as jack, sit tucked in the corner of the living room, hidden by the expansive christmas tree. you click pieces into place and revel in the sweet boy’s satisfaction.

“you’re pretty good at this!” he exclaims, and you send him a sweet grin.

“thanks! i had lots of experience when i was your age,” you state in a light, airy voice, and he giggles.

“you don’t play legos anymore?” he inquires, so genuine and earnest your heart aches.

“no, i don’t. maybe i should, though,” you consider, handing him a piece of the wing.

“yeah, you totally should!” he replies, as if it were that easy to hold onto your childhood, “if you don’t play legos, what do you do for fun?”

you laugh at the insinuation in his tone, and ponder his question.

“i like to write…” you trail off, unsure of what else to say about that. luckily, jack solves your problem for you.

“you write for fun? my teacher makes me do that!” he scrunches up his nose and you laugh. it’s a genuine one, one that comes from your belly and throws your head back.

“would it make things better or worse if i said my other hobby is reading?” you jokingly raise a brow at the boy, and he groans in disgust, spurring on additional bouts of laughter from the both of you.

jack clicks the final piece into place, his eyes lighting up as he holds the finished product in the air, moving it above his head like an actual airplane.

“nice teamwork, man!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which he eagerly accepts.

“thanks for helping me! teamwork is key. that’s what my dad always tells me,” he states nonchalantly, eyes trained on the aircraft balancing delicately in his hands.

“your dad sounds like a smart man,” you smile, “you’re pretty lucky you got such a cool toy, too.”

“yeah, i am,” he smiles to himself, and his sincerity warms your heart, “my dad didn’t get me this, though. it’s from my uncle dave,” he states matter of factly, completely innocent to the information he just gave you.

“your uncle dave? like the man who threw this party uncle dave?” you verify, and he nods. your heart rate picks up as the puzzle pieces in your mind click into place. it couldn’t be. could it?

“jack?” you hear a familiar voice call, and your heart drops to your stomach, that final piece snapping into place. of course. “jack, where are you buddy?”

“right here, dad!” he leaps out from behind the tree and you reluctantly follow suit, nearly tripping over the hem of your dress in a weak attempt to stand.

you make eye contact with aaron once you’re stable on two feet. you’re unable to take your eyes off him, really. he takes pause when he sees you, and it’s like the world tilts off its axis, completely freezing in time. a hint of confusion laces his gaze, but it’s mostly masked by an air of desire as his eyes flit quickly over your frame once more. he lingers on your right hand, still clutching your wine glass, eyes darkening at the bracelets that dangle from your wrist. interesting.

the rustling of his son before him startles him out of his daze, and he plows ten (incredibly thick) fingers through his hair before he lets out a weak chuckle, “hey buddy!” he ruffles his son’s hair and the boy wraps his arms around his dad’s torso. fuck.

“what were you up to, my man?” he asks, kneeling to get to his level.

“i accidentally bumped into this nice lady, so she helped me put my plane back together!” he exclaims, beaming with pride as he shows his father the finished product.

“wow! well that was really nice of her,” his eyes snap up to meet yours quickly before going back to his son, the brief contact shocks your heart all the same, “did you say thank you?”

“yes, dad!” he whines, sounding a bit annoyed that his dad still thinks he has to ask him that. his petulant tone pulls a chuckle from your throat, and it causes both boys to turn their identical chocolate eyes onto you.

“he did, he was incredibly polite,” you gush, “we had lots of fun, didn’t we?” he nods enthusiastically, and aaron chuckles. the adorable high pitched noise makes your heart to thump against your chest, and you take a gulp of wine.

aaron knew where jack was all night. he always does. he caught a glimpse of his little feet poking out from behind the tree, fussing about his new lego set. the shine of red silk glimmered in the tree lights next to him, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

he made quick work of excusing himself to the back patio under the guise of ‘getting some air’. from there, he had a clear view of the other side of the living room, where she and jack were planted, clicking various lego pieces into place.

he watched as jack’s eyes lit up, the way she made him laugh. it made his heart thump against his chest, the way she connected with jack like it was breathing. it disarms him, stealing the breath from his lungs. she’s good at that.

he watches now-jack already off somewhere with henry- the display of her neck as she takes a swig of wine. it’s the merlot he brought, he can tell from the deep red staining her glossy lips. his eyes study them, her plump, pink lips. he wonders what her lipgloss tastes like, his mouth watering from his urge to taste her sweetness, to steal the oaky tang of wine off the tip of her tongue. the corner of her mouth ticks up in a sly smirk, and his eyes snap up to meet hers, her devious gaze telling him he’s been caught.

“thank you, for uh-for taking care of jack for a bit,” he puts his hands in his pockets, his gaze falling to the floor as he speaks.

“oh! anytime,” she chirps, “he’s a really sweet kid, you must be really proud,” she’s playing him like a fiddle, he nearly melts into a puddle on the spot.

“yeah, yeah, i am,” he nods, finally making eye contact with a small smile. she returns it, the sly glint escaping her, now replaced by a soft, gentle smile and kind eyes.

“we had fun…it was better than being grilled by family about my return home,” she states, washing it down with another sip of wine.

he chuckles at that, “fair enough,” he mutters.

she smiles at that, “yeah, he just grilled me about how i don’t play legos anymore, much less interrogative.” this earns a heftier chuckle from aaron, and her eyes light up, his laughter spurring on her own.

“that sounds like jack,” he nods, a wide grin stretching his cheeks.

“he’s a great kid, really. he must get it from his dad,” her voice is saccharine as her hand briefly grazes his forearm. it’s like he’s been struck by lightning.

a light gasp escapes his chest at the brief contact, and his cheeks burn, “i-i don’t know about that,” his voice is raspy as he speaks, quickly clearing his throat afterwards.

her hand settles on his forearm, she begins to take a step closer and tell him something, but what he ends up hearing comes from behind him.

“sir!!!” penelope squeals, and they both freeze, eyes wide, “you’re wanted in the kitchen!! group photo!!”

his lashes kiss his cheeks as his head drops back slightly, a soft groan escaping his lips, “coming!” he calls over his shoulder. he nods at you curtly before turning towards penelope, contempt pooling like acid in his stomach.

“you can flirt later,” she jokes so only they can hear, winking at him before going off to pose everyone properly for the photo. he looks down and chuckles to himself as he falls in line.

as the party began to wind down, the easier it was for you to sneak off to your own space. most of the guests had left hours ago, but the bau members remained huddled around the kitchen table till the early hours of the morning. around midnight, you’re able to excuse yourself to your room. you wiggle out of your dress and relieve yourself of your shapewear, sighing as you pull on your buttery sleep set- light pink pants that flare at the bottom, with a matching short sleeve top that softly hugs your frame.

you pad over to your en-suite and scrub your makeup off, serums and lotions shining on your skin. you throw your hair up in a claw clip and slide on your glasses. just because you’re comfortable, though, does not mean you’re turned in for the night. you return back down the steps to grab some wine and dessert, seeing as there’s leftovers scattering every square inch of the kitchen.

the party moved itself outside, surrounded by the fire pit in the generous backyard. you smile to yourself as you see the group huddled around, and you itch to join them. you study the smile pinching your dad’s cheeks, and you long to be a part of something that makes him so happy. you’re not sure if you’d be wanted, though, so you resort to desserts and wine littering the kitchen island. you settle in with a riesling and a tray of cookies and brownies on either side of you, and turn on the expansive television in your father’s kitchen.

the low hum of parks and rec fills the kitchen as you pop the cork of the wine bottle, not bothering to pour a glass as your lips touch the spout. your eyes flit to the sliding glass door gliding open to reveal aaron. you pause, holding the bottle in front of you as you gulp down what’s in your mouth.

“hi,” you smile as he enters slowly, his own spreading his lips.

“hey, you tired?” he inquires, brow stern but eyes soft. he’s changed too, donning a dark pair of jeans and a white t shirt that hugs his bicep in a way that send an electric shock right to your brain.

“yeah, just came down for a midnight snack,” you smile, talking quietly even though you were the only two people in the house, “you should come join me,” you take a risk, patting the seat of the stool beside you.

“yeah, that sounds nice, it was getting loud out there,” he jokes, smiling softly as he fills his water bottle at the fridge.

he moves to sit next to you, ice rattling in his gray water bottle as his legs swing around the stool, nestling close to yours. he steals the wine bottle from your grasp, his brows shooting up into his forehead with a cheeky smirk. you shamelessly ogle the way his lips press against the glass bottle, the throb of his adam’s apple as he swallows. he takes a thumb to his lips after he’s taken a sip, wiping any excess from his mouth. you wish you could’ve kissed it off.

“that’s good,” he smiles, the gloss in his eyes telling you this is far from his first drink of the night. you’re sure your own eyes tell a similar story.

“i know,” you smile back, taking a sip of your own.

“you know…” he begins, fiddling with a brownie he picked off the plate, “when i first saw you tonight, i didn’t think you could get any prettier. i was wrong. you look incredible right now,” he smiles, his teeth sinking into the gooey brownie.

“aaron-” you chuckle, cheeks heating up, “thank you,” you mutter, looking down at your lap, “thank you. i thought the same thing when i saw you. that suit was ridiculous, but i think the t shirt made my brain short circuit,” the alcohol has loosened your lips significantly, you don’t care one bit how embarrassed you’ll be in the morning.

“oh really?” he laughs at that, the apples of his cheeks flushing red, “i like that you like my $5 t shirt from target better than my armani suit,” he muses, taking another big swig of the wine bottle.

“i like that you’re the kind of guy who has $5 t shirts from target and armani suits in his closet,” you smile, your body fully turned towards him. you rest your head on your hand, elbow planted firmly on the kitchen island, gazing at him with a fiery adoration.

“variety is the spice of life, as they say,” he takes another big bite of brownie, and you wipe a spare crumb from the corner of his mouth. you bring your crumb covered thumb to your mouth, your plush lips wrapping around the tip to take a taste for yourself. he pauses, eyes blown wide, then gulps his brownie down as he absorbs your action with his hungry, dark eyes.

“is that why you decided to become a profiler? for the variety?” you quiz him, biting into a piece of a chocolate chip cookie.

“something like that,” he mutters, a smirk spreading on his lips as he pops the last bite of brownie in his mouth, “little birdie told me you’re a writer,” he nudges your shoulder with his own, “trying to be like your dad?”

the question pokes at the vulnerability lacing your heart and you adjust in your seat, wiggling around your discomfort, “something like that…” you repeat his earlier sentiment, and he chuckles.

“well, if you’re anything like him then you’re probably amazing,” he smiles, taking the bottle from you once more.

“thank you, it’s…complicated. i fell in with the wrong people, and i figured it out the hard way,” you press your lips together, and you can tell he wants to ask more. you’re thankful he doesn’t, seeing as you’re not particularly very eager to delve into the reason you’re running back to your father’s house with a man you’re irrevocably attracted to.

“it happens to the best of us,” is all he says, but he hooks his ankle around the leg of your stool, connecting it with yours. your tense muscles loosen at the contact, and you and aaron both smile quietly down at your hands, comfortable existing in a soft silence together.

“this is one of my favorite shows,” aaron mutters, nodding towards the tv, where leslie knope is desperately scrambling to put together the harvest festival.

you turn to face him once more in shock, “really? i didn’t strike you as a sitcom guy!” you exclaim. he turns to face you now, his right knee slotting in between your legs, his left closing in on the other side of your thigh. his legs are huge, it’s like you’re surrounded by fucking tree trunks. it’s so intoxicating, the topic of your conversation completely slips your mind.

“i’ve been watching sitcoms before you even knew what they were,” he smirks, his voice low, gravelly, but silky smooth at the same time. a shudder unzips down your spine at the feeling of his breath hitting your cheek, “i love my west wing and my sopranos, too, don’t get me wrong,” he nudges your shoulder with his, and the proximity makes you dizzy, “but in my line of work, i mean, i need something to get my mind off of it at the end of the day. this one is like chicken soup for your soul.”

you smile at that sentiment, eyes shining with fondness for the man in front of you. butterflies swarm your stomach when the warmth of his large hands seep through your shirt, warming your stomach. he’s got a gentle grip on either side of you, his gigantic hands covering as much skin as possible. he engulfs you completely, your senses on aaron hotchner overdrive. his spicy oak cologne mixed with his woodsy aftershave nearly renders you dumb as you let your body fall into his, your forehead resting against his. he rubs his thumb into your skin and your eyes fall shut, a soft ‘oh!’ escaping your lips.

“that was really pretty, honey,” aaron murmurs, and you just ache.

your eyes open and you pull back to see him staring at you, low lidded and hungry. you’re going to kiss him. there’s no way around it. except the wretched sound of the glass door sliding open once more.

you and aaron jump apart like you’ve been burned, and you thank your lucky stars your father was not entering the threshold. derek and penelope stand there, s’mores ingredients in hand, shit eating grins on their faces.

“well, well, well, we were wondering where you’d run off to…” penelope trails off, “everyone’s about to come in, so we thought you might need a little warning,” penelope’s tone is incredulous as she raises her brows suggestively, and derek wolf whistles as he puts the marshmallows back in the cabinet.

“nothing- it was nothing!” aaron trips over his words as he scrambles for his things. your eyes go wide as you watch him move in a flurry throughout the kitchen, grabbing his clothes and his leftovers. before long, he’s slipped his shoes on and flies right out the door.

the silence in the wake of the door slamming is thick, loaded. you sit there in shock, unable to take your eyes off penelope. what the fuck just happened?

“what the fuck just happened?” penelope squeals, as if she read your mind.

“i don’t know!” you scream back, palms reaching up to slap your face.

“i know what happened!” derek exclaims, “the boss man’s caught some feelings and it scares the hell out of him!” he points out like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

dread pools in your stomach, and you plop your head in the crook of your elbow resting on the island. you’ve been home for less than a month and you’ve already managed to self destruct, “oh god,” you groan.

the rest of the group came inside shortly after, promptly gathering their things and giving lengthy goodbyes to everyone that was still there. you shook hands with many of them on the way out, mustering the biggest smiles you could manage under the circumstances.

once you close the door, you gather your tried and true water, motrin, and toast, and curl up on the couch. you turn the tv on there, attempting to stay up until some of the alcohol wears off. sleeping is useless for you when you’re this drunk. 

your head perks up from your cocoon of blankets and pillows when you hear the doorbell ring, followed by your father’s voice carrying down the steps, “i got it!”

he patters down the staircase and opens the door, and you just barely make out who it is, but you catch it all the same.

“hey, aaron!” your dad exclaims, and your eyes shoot wide open, “sorry i missed you when you left! everything alright?”

“yeah, yeah, jack missed me,” you could just barely hear him mutter from the porch, “but i believe he forgot his stuffed bear here, i’m sorry to be back so late. he couldn’t sleep.”

you see the bear, it lays by the tree, amongst a mess of wrapping paper. you leap off the couch and scoop it up, nervously pacing the living room.

“not at all,” your father’s voice carries from down the hall, “principessa, you can walk him out, right? i’m going to bed!” he calls down to you, and you muster out a weak, “yes!” in response.

aaron makes eye contact with you from the kitchen, and he slowly saunters into the living room. you stare at each other for a moment, and you forget you’re holding his son’s bear until his eyes drop down to it.

“oh!” you gasp, holding your hand out, “here! it was just under the tree-”

you’re cut off by his hands on your face, pulling your lips in to crash against his. the kiss steals the breath from your lungs, and you snake your arms around his waist, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss. you pull back for small moments, before diving back in to place quick, sloppy kisses on his mouth. he chases after your lips like he’s starving for them, and it makes you feel 10 feet tall. he punctures your lips with his once more in a long, heated kiss. he cradles your jaw in his hands as he attacks your lips, licking into your mouth ever so slightly.

he pulls away from you with a gasp, and you feel the loss of his warmth like a gut punch, “thank you,” he mutters, breathless, but completely dead pan, before storming out of the home for the second time that evening, leaving you gasping for breath and flustered beyond belief. what. the fuck. just happened?

[nyoomerr]

Normally, the community of Proud Immortal Demon Way can hardly be called as such. To call PIDW readers a ‘fandom’ would be akin to calling everyone who visited the same porn site a family. PeerlessCucumber is a loud exception, but in the end he’s still only an exception - by and large, people reading PIDW know exactly what they’re there for, and it certainly isn’t for any sense of shared enjoyment or community.

The community of people following PeerlessCucumber himself, however, is a whole different story.

PeerlessCucumber is the asshole single handedly responsible for at least seven different copypastas, the rich bastard that will pay an artist’s rent for a single picture of Luo Binghe if only the artist can tolerate his demands for constant revisions, the dictionary definition of an anti-fan.

He is also blissfully unaware of the absolute glee in which people take in riling him up. And in the age of the modern internet, nothing brings a group of strangers together like the opportunity to poke fun of a guy like that.

“How do I look?” HualingsWife whispers to her companions. They take a moment to scrutinize her, gaze lingering around her chest.

“I don’t know,” SwordsOfCultivators says, “I think the guy ahead of you let his robes drape open further.”

HualingsWife rolls her eyes. “If I let my robes drape open that far, I’d be disqualified - you know the rules are different for men.”

“It’s not like you’re looking to win, though,” XuanyuMeat says. “And the open chest is clearly effective.”

The three of them pause, turning to look at the stage from their spot in the wings. The competitor that came before HualingsWife is running through a series of poses that are slowly but surely allowing his robes to slip ever wider. 

Two of the judges are watching with thinly veiled amusement - after several years of this tradition, they’ve gotten used to the chaos that PeerlessCucumber’s fans bring to these cosplay competitions. 

The third judge is PeerlessCucumber himself, and he looks like he might be experiencing a serious health condition. A serious mental health condition, to be clear.

“- robes of inferior make! Binghe’s exposure is always purposeful, and artful, and it wouldn’t be because he was wearing robes that didn’t fit him! If you don’t care about dressing true to his character -!”

“Hm,” SwordsOfCultivators hums. “Is it just me, or is Peerless not being as harsh as he usually is? Do you think he’s finally losing some of his obsession with Luo Binghe?”

“He better not!” HualingsWife cries. “I’ve put way too much time and money into working on a cosplay for that awful porn book for him to lose interest right when I get my chance to join the torturing-Peerless-fun!”

“No, no,” XuanyuMeat says, shaking their head. “You heard his rants for the Luo Binghe cosplayers one through four - he was especially cruel to them! Look at his face now, that isn’t the face of someone losing interest!”

They turn back to the stage. Luo Binghe cosplayer number five - likely DickBiggerThanBinghe, if HualingsWife were to guess based on her limited interactions with him in the PeerlessWatchers discord chat - looks unbearably smug. His robes have fallen completely off his shoulders by now.

PeerlessCucumber, on the other hand, looks so red HualingsWife wouldn’t be surprised if she started seeing steam pouring out of his ears.

“Ah,” she says, understanding. “You think he’s recently finally realized his obsession with Luo Binghe isn’t that of a straight man’s?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to get this flustered over a man’s exposed chest and still think it was caused purely by the outrage of seeing one of our ‘poorly done’ cosplays,” XuanyuMeat says wryly. They send HaulingsWife a pointed side eye. “So…”

“Oh yeah, I’m on it,” HualingsWife says, already loosening her robes further. “Just make sure to have the cameras ready to get the direct comparison of his reaction to a woman’s nip-slip versus the absolute conniption he’s going through now.”

“Please, he probably won’t even see it - he’ll probably get all awkward and look away like he does with any female cosplayer dressed in anything but a full body suit.”

“I think he’ll peek through his fingers anyway,” SwordsOfCultivators says gleefully. “He wouldn’t dare miss the chance to oggle another Luo Binghe cosplayer.”

On stage, DickBiggerThanBinghe finally waltzes off, having received his scoring from all three judges and a score from the back of the room where the group of PeerlessWatchers are sitting. 

After all, none of them are really here for the actual cosplay competition. They only care about one thing: whoever can get the highest scoring Peerless rant about their cosplay will pay for dinner for everyone that night. 

“Ohh, seven out of ten!” HualingsWife says, as the group PeerlessWatchers wave their scorecard around with glee. “The last time someone got scored that highly was when TofuBuns dared to cosplay as a half-dead Luo Binghe covered in wounds!”

“TofuBuns still has their display name set to ‘faithless mongrel undeserving of witnessing Binghes success’ in the discord server,” SwordsOfCultivators sighs. “I can only hope to one day trigger a Peerless rant so iconic.”

On stage, one of the judges glances down at the score sheet, sees that another Luo Binghe cosplayer is scheduled to come out next, and stifles a laugh before gesturing for HualingsWife to come on.

“No way I’m getting something that iconic my first try,” HualingsWife says, “but if I can get Peerless to make that hilarious choking noise he made the last time he saw a female-presenting Luo Binghe, I’ll count it as a win.”

[chlorinecake]

Thoughts on stalker x stalker??

— 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐣𝐲

▹ PAIRING: stalker ex bf ! jake x stalker ex gf ! reader

▹ SUMMARY: You and Jake, exes torn apart, developed a mutual obsession with each other overtime, the lingering romance coming to light with a simple flash of his camera…

▹ WARNINGS: BIG DICK JAKE who records a lil sextape of him fingering you because he's a helpless titty fixated perv, unprotected sex (cowgirl), some crying, a brief handjob and fingering session, kinda angsty

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.5k

“Do you really see better with those glasses on?”

Jake's chocolate brown eyes peeked at you through his specs, a gentle hum rumbling from his throat before answering.

“No. I mostly wear them for the art student aesthetic I’m going for… now don't smile, pretty.”

Snap.

You let the small smile on your face relax at his instructions. “And the other reason?” You pressed, watching as he angled the lens a little higher over you this time.

“Hm, dunno... maybe because cute girls always ask about them?”

You hated it whenever he talked about other girls—

Snap.

Another click of his camera sounded throughout the quiet studio, it’s white flashes lighting up the dim room.

“So you like the attention then?” You teased, watching as his facial expression remained nonchalant.

Focused.

“Your attention? Yes,” he admitted, narrowing his eyes behind the camera. “Might be one of my favorite things, actually…”

Snap.

Good answer Jakey, you thought to yourself, trying your best to keep a neutral facial expression before him.

“One of your favorites just like old cameras, apparently...” you went on… “How come you never use the new one I bought you for your birthday last year?”

“Because,” Jake answered while lining his eyes up with the camera lens, “this one is much easier for me to carry around... I like that it’s portable...”

Why would he need a camera on the go, you asked yourself silently… even though, the reality was that Jake had actually dropped the other camera while following you one night—

Snap.

“Jeez, how many more shots do you need, Peter Parker?”

“You'll know when I'm finished,” the dark eyed boy replied with a foreign rasp to his tone, index finger gently squeezing into the camera button as he continued. “Now stick your tongue out for me.”

“I'm sorry?”

Snap.

His unusual sentence really caught you off guard this time, a feeling of chills washing over you as he took his lower lip into his teeth.

“Beautiful,” he said almost breathlessly, “just try following my directions next time though, yeah?”

“Jake, I need a break...” You sighed, changing your position on the couch as his vision remained glued behind the camera.

“In a minute, ____…”

Snap.

He used your first name on purpose because you used his, and he knew you were the type of girl who didn’t like that very much.

“I said that’s enough, alright?”

You slightly raised your voice at him, his demeanor remaining just as calm as before once a prolonged sigh escaped his throat.

“I suppose five minutes of wasted time wouldn’t hurt,” he said sarcastically, placing his red camera on the stool beside him before extending a hand, helping you off the couch.

“Thanks,” you replied half-heartedly, grabbing the large white sheet from the couch arm and wrapping it around your naked body.

“I could never get tired of this honestly,” Jake confessed, watching you intently as you poured yourself a cup of water from the nearby cooler.

“Tired of what?” You asked in between your first sip, his eyes being all over you except your face as you spoke.

“Looking at you,” was all he said for you to roll your eyes at his words, making him chuckle at your reaction.

“I’m serious, y’know that?”

“Mhm… I can tell,” you smirked with a nod, taking the last sip of your water before making your way back over to plop on the couch. “How about you go over your pictures… you’ll never know if we caught the perfect one already if you don’t check…”

He didn’t verbally respond to your suggestion, only nodding in agreement as he reached for the camera, clicking through its film.

To no one’s surprise, Jake, who doubled as your pervy ex-boyfriend and personal neighborhood stalker, felt himself getting hot all over again just from looking at the pictures of you displayed on the grainy screen.

Today's excuse to photograph you? He needed a nude model for his chiaroscuro themed visual project at the fancy art university he attended.

You knew Jake would’ve a hard time finding any other female (or male) to willingly get naked for him, so you obliged… under the small condition that he wouldn’t try to fuck you afterwards.

Simply put, your infatuation with him always made it easier to agree to whatever stupid favors he needed you to do—

“God,” he groaned under his breath, taking a seat as an attempt to hide the boner slowly growing behind his pants.

“Damn, are they really that bad?” You asked with worried brows, misinterpreting his reaction.

“N-no, not at all,” he corrected, eyes still glued to the camera screen.

“Oh... well… okay then,” you sighed with relief, or maybe it was a yawn?

The studio AC was set to such a low temperature that you couldn't help but feel a little sleepy... especially with how mundane this whole model process was getting to be.

“Can I see the pictures?” You asked, making Jake's eyes widen slightly at your request. He knew it'd be suspicious to say no so he instead gave in, reluctantly handing you the camera.

Clicking the left arrow on the circular directional button, the gallery scrolled, picture after picture, with each slide shocking you with how good they came out.

“Lovely, aren't you?” Jake nearly whispered from behind you as he leaned over the couch, his hands pulling your hair out of the tussled bun he previously styled it in for the first part of the photoshoot.

For the next series of shots, he planned to go for a more natural look, taking your hair down to let it hang as the scent of your shampoo ignited him all over again.

Jake couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hard-on against the back of the couch, eager for any sort of friction that would ease the tension building up inside him.

You felt the teeth of the comb meet your scalp as he continued to comb, the simple act somehow making it even harder for him to control himself.

“You're really talented at this,” you said, just before your eyes glazed over the series of pictures following the one's he'd just taken of you.

Some were from recent trips you took to the supermarket, events you don't fully remember, and even a few scandalous shots of you through your apartment window, changing out of your work clothes—

“Thanks, but I prefer giving credit to the actual person I'm shooting,” he added, looking over your shoulder as you turned the camera off, just before he got a chance to see what you were looking at.

Though, from the almost immediate shift in the studio's aura, Jake had developed a pretty good inkling in his chest as to what you might've seen.

Your throat tensed up, chest expanding slightly with each exhale as a smile grew on Jake's face.

“Just let me know if I'm being too rough, alright?” He started, sectioning out your bangs as his hand slid around your neck, gently cradling your chin upward.

“Jake,” you choked out weakly, a shaky moan slipping past your lips as the comb got caught in a particular knot in your hair, “t-take your time, please...”

You stuttered, hoping in your heart that he wouldn't make a big deal about it.

In truth, you often watched Jake from afar yourself, not being able to get over your obsession with him, even months after you two first broke up…

Your eyes had a way of chasing stolen moments—the curve of his lips as he sipped coffee on his way to class, or the way his personal style slowly changed from denim coats and Timberland's to leather jackets and black boots.

You saw it all, seeking after it as often as you could… using it as a means to coax your own lonely desire for him.

Still, you couldn't quite shake how strange it was to see his gallery filled with images of you from every angle and emotion, even though it eventually delighted you to know that he wasn't as interested in other people as he let on—

“I'm in no rush, ____,” he said plainly, trying to redirect the energy in the room, “just relax for me... I'm not trying to hurt you...”

He chose his words wisely, releasing his hold from around your neck before making his way over to the wall where he dimmed the lights even more.

“I know, Jake,” you nearly whispered, wind flowing from the slightly opened windows as your voice flew with its gust…

“But how long have you been watching me?”

His wrists froze at your question, a mix of relief, guilt, and fear rising within every part of his body.

You turned your gaze towards him, eyes locking to reveal a mirror reflecting your similarly twisted desires, the tension screaming with ambivalence…

“Since we broke up...” He confessed, eerily loud footsteps sending shivers down your spine as he paced against the wooden floor, walking towards you, “does that bother you, love?”

You stammered at first, gentle grasp clinging to the white sheet around you. “It doesn't, Jake... not at all,” you finally mustered, watching as he licked his lips because God, he was such an anxious perv for you...

The way you looked before him in this moment, both fear and recognition present in your features as your body remained still as stone, every natural highlight of your skin looking even more gorgeous beneath the dim lights.

This entire moment was all too much for him… You were too much for him…

Slowly creeping towards you, his intense energy did nothing but make your arms sprout with tiny bumps all over.

“Good,” was all he said at first, trying to digest your body language while freeing himself from his jacket, “but I'm guessing there's something you might wanna come clean about, too, hm?”

“I… yes,” you admitted, somehow regaining your initial confidence, “since you wanna hear me say it so badly... I haven't exactly been able to get over you, either...”

He smirked at your honesty, “How bad has it gotten? The withdrawal, I mean... d'you ever think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Cute, but no...,” you scoffed, “I prefer hands-free fantasizing instead... less mess for me to clean up alone,” you smiled teasingly, tracing the arch of his jawline with your index finger.

It almost felt foreign when you did that just then...

You hadn't touched him like that in months... and even though the act was ordinary, it made you feel something intense—

“I need to take a few more shots of you like this,” he said randomly, reaching for his camera but not sitting on the opposite couch this time.

He stayed right in front of you, joining you on the couch and slightly caging you beneath his frame.

“Trying a new angle I see... these gonna be for your project or—”

“I'm gonna keep these for myself,” he interrupted, snaking his free hand beneath the sheet and lightly caressing the flesh of your thigh before kneading it, dangerously close to your core. “Just make sure you follow my instructions like I asked...”

You nodded at his words, letting your lower body relax as he gently guided your legs open, the sheet falling from over you boobs and exposing them to the air as he grazed your pussy lips with his fingers.

Jake nearly drooled at the sight of your hard nipples, clicking with his tongue to make you look back at the camera. “Start by squeezing your tits together for me,” he started in a low voice, “wanna see how well they’d suffocate my dick…”

The poor guy was still very much hard right now, and it didn't help him one bit with how wet you felt against his fingers, his skilled touch circling your clit as a feathery moan left your lips.

“C’mon pretty, do as I say…” Jake cooed, pointing the camera to you as you did just that, arching your back over the sofa arm while squeezing your tits together, his fingers quickening against your sensitive bud as he kept recording.

You're not sure what came over you just then, but you were starting to feel more than willing to do whatever Jake asked of you, especially when his fingers worked on teasing your initial tightness.

His digits curved against your g-spot, the pressure he applied only escalating as his stiff cock started leaking in his pants.

This entire moment felt strangely nostalgic, reminding you of the many times Jake would stand over while making you cream with just his fingers—

“Tell me when you're close, baby… beg for me to let you come,” he huffed, voice sounding somewhat labored as he intently watched your chest heave up and down, biting his lower lip to stop himself from kissing you.

Because as badly as he wanted to taste you, he had to capture your bliss on camera first, for the nights that memories become too vague... for the nights when fantasies don't compare to the real deal...

Your whole body was a mix of hot and cold, given the temperature of the room and the sexual energy meddling between your excited bodies.

“J-Jake…” you stuttered with a whine, clinging to the couch as your face flushed a ruddy hue, walls desperately clenching around his fingers, “please...l-let me come for you…”

The poor boy didn't know what to do with himself given how wet you were, his puppy-dog eyes looking almost in awe now that the realization had hit him:

He finally got you where he wanted you… and from your perspective, the likewise…

“You can let go now baby,” is all Jake manages to say before you're coming undone, the knot in you abdomen unraveling throughout every limb of your body as pure pleasure coursed through your starved out veins.

Jake kept the camera on your body the entire time, too, his digits only slowing down slightly to help you ride out your high.

He hadn't even fully slipped from your hole yet before a feeling of emptiness washed over you, lust-ridden eyes following Jake’s every move as his veiny hand retreated from your core.

He caught on to it, too... the way your eyes panned in on him like your own built in set of camera lenses... capturing every movement to store in your favorite mental file.

“Fuck,” Jake groaned around his own fingers suddenly, tasting the milky slick he gathered from your hole, “been missing the taste of you so bad, angel...”

“Then kiss me,” you whispered heavily, a clear sheen of Jake's saliva mixed with your sweet release painting the cupid's bow of his pouty lips.

He didn't hesitate to take heed to your words either, setting the camera down with haste before hovering back over you on the couch, not even guiding your face as he kissed your lips, humming into the contact.

The feeling of Jake's sloppy textured tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine, his hot breath doing nothing but heat up the warmth already present between your legs.

His heart pounded against his ribs as the kiss continued, his glasses eventually fogging up from how intense the contact was, compelling you to push him away for a seconds to remove his glasses, your own heart fluttering at his flushed demeanor.

“I need to touch you... r-right now,” you choked out breathlessly, not even bothering to cover your naked body now that the sheet was slipping to the floor.

It was a bit awkward at first, you'll admit, being completely naked while Jake was fully clothed. You grew tired of undressing him with your eyes and knew you had to do something about the issue throbbing behind his pants.

Before Jake could even respond, you were already pushing him back against the other side of the couch, his head plopping on the sofa arm with a gentle thud, fluffy brown locks framing his face.

The shadow of a smirk meddled over his handsome features as you eagerly yet patiently worked on unzipping his pants, the thick mound from his clothed hardness making your head spin.

There was really no point in taking things slow with him in this moment because its not like you two haven't already fucked each other before... only difference now was that it had been a while, so the nerves had built up—

“It's so red,” you remarked with a whisper, just having shimmed Jake's pants down enough for you to get his cock out, “does it hurt?”

“I'll let you know once you start touching it,” he let out with a relaxed breath, eyes once again focusing on the way you sat before him with your tits out on full display.

You took his comment as some sort of green light, gently taking his length in your grasp and pumping it in long, drawn out strokes.

His thighs were already trembling, hips grinding up into your first to gain a bit more friction.

“Fuck, stop teasing, ____,” he groaned with half-lidded eyes, wrapping his hand around yours to manually control the pace.

You let out a laugh at his neediness, swatting his hand away so you could take over again, “This is all apart of the foreplay, Jake... you know I'll be riding your cock properly before the night's out, anyways...”

Deep down, you were having just a little too much fun toying around with Jake right now, but given the sexually frustrated furrow of his eyebrows, you decided to be nice and just let him have you already.

Still pumping his shaft in your hand, you sat up on your knees to straddle him, lining up his tip with your entrance before letting your weight sink onto him, struggling to adjust to his size given how long its been since you took him.

A quiet curse fell from Jake's lips as he watched you wiggle past his mushroom tip, his veiny hands reaching forward to help you completely reach his pelvis.

You let out a shaky whimper at the sudden feeling of fullness, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to stop yourself from making any more pained sounds.

“There you go, pretty... nice and easy...” Jake cooed while still gripping the flesh of your hips, mostly because if he didn't, he would've started thrusting into you, “do you wanna stop?”

“N-no,” you practically blurted out, thighs still feeling tense despite how badly you wanted this with him, “I want you to make me cum again, Jakey... I can take it...”

Your words were like magic to his ears, his strong hand guiding your body against his as he left a tender kiss to your cheek before holding you in place, his dick moving in and out of you at a steady pace that escalated in a matter of seconds.

To be honest, you were shocked by Jake's adrenaline, your body already shaking beneath his arms as he held onto you tighter, grunting with each time your desperate walls clenched around him.

His balls bounced to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin making you shut your eyes tightly in pleasure, whining frantically at the mix of sensations.

Your eyes started to sprout with tears, damping Jake's shoulder as he fucked against your g-spot, making it nearly impossible for you to hold in your delighted screams.

Pouring out a string of whiny moans, your body subconsciously moved with his hips, Jake catching on to your reactions rather quickly as he whispered a sultry “You like that, baby?” against your neck, your head nodding lazily as you looked into each other's eyes, right before your lips crashed into his. 

“I missed this so fucking badly, Jake... 'missed being this close to you,” you let out weakly, one of his thumbs going to wipe the tear of moisture sliding down your face as he kept rutting into you.

“I know, angel,” he panted, kissing you on the center of your lips before pulling back, his tip reaching the furthest its ever been inside your pussy as you rocked your hips against his, wobbly pleas of pleasure slipping past both your lips before you felt yourselves reach your peaks.

“Aww, f-f... shit,” you whined, Jake's hips still pivoting against you despite how strong the orgasm was, your thighs trembling as you felt your walls tighten around him.

“That's it, baby,” Jake cooed through heavy breaths, reeling out more of your pretty moans as he rode out your high for the last time, holding you close to him, “let it all out, angel...”

You let your legs relax, just as Jake sat himself up straight, delicate lips kissing along your jawline as he whispered against your skin, “Now you belong to me again…”

And there it was, two twisted souls basking in the very web of obsession the sewed together, a lost love blossoming yet again from a matter of stolen glances and a series of clandestine photographs bringing you back together again.

You internally yawned at the feeling of Jake's lips against you, his possessive words only making your heart sing as you reached down for the sheet, draping it over both your spent bodies...

“I've always been yours, Jake,” you smiled sincerely, ruffling the hair atop his head before falling back into his embrace, letting yourselves snuggle into the plush cushion of the couch, “even when you left me first...”

▹ Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction and does not intend to romanticize the harmfully obsessive behaviors described between the two characters. Real-life stalking is not okay my guys, so please, don’t be a sasaeng and instead seek healthy relationships !

▹ Perm Taglist ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ) : @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr

[peachpitfics]

Loml

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: You have been married six months, and it is fresh hell trying to conceive an heir with somebody you are repulsed by. Luckily, your old friend is willing to help you get through it while your husband is out of town.

Length: 2.6k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Infidelity/adultery, themes allude to SA with unwanted husband (not described or mentioned), cunnilingus, face sitting, oral sex (male & female receiving), penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex for the sake of breeding, breeding kink?, orgasm.

a/n: This is part ii of Wildest Dreams, requested by anon here! This turned out a little more angsty than I had planned!

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Six months ago, your father inflicted the cruelest curse upon you when he married you off to his vilest friend, Lord Howard. Six months of marriage, six months of scheduled contact, attempting to make an heir. Agreeing to once per month, having to allow Lord Howard access to your body in order to do so, six attempts were far too many already.

As soon as Lord Howard informed you of his business travel plans, you began thinking about Benedict Bridgerton. Somebody you thought about relentlessly, however, in this case, you were hoping to hold him to a promise he had made you earlier in the year.

Immediately penning a letter addressed to him at Bridgerton House, with details regarding location, date and time. The staff had been quite loyal to you since moving into the grand house. Most of your time was spent in the country, avoiding your new husband – the service staff there thought you were a gift from heaven, far too good for the old codger, as they called him. They looked after you, and you ensured the same for them. They would keep your secret.

Benedict arrived by carriage a week later, the afternoon after your husband’s departure, having written to accept your invitation, but only to discuss what had been promised in the past. Benedict looked the same, but cleaner, his hair shorter. He looked grown up. He stepped from the carriage, baring in easeful smile, just for you.

“Lady Howard” He bowed properly, it felt like a jive.

You did not speak a word, jumping forward and into his arms, throwing yours around his neck. It was the first time you’d felt safe in months. Benedict’s eyes flicked between the housekeeper, the footman and you, desperately trying to understand if this was okay.

“They are my friends; they would never harm me. I know it is strange, but they really do help me keep my secrets” You tried to reassure Benedict, whispering in his ear.

“It is not strange, it is very country, I suppose,” His arms tightened around your back, lifting you off the ground slightly, “I have missed you. I did write” Benedict squeezed.

“I know,” You let him go, holding out a hand to walk him into the house, “I have your letters hidden in my dressing room. I do apologise for not replying” Ben took your hand and followed you into the house, leaving his luggage on the carriage for the staff to care for.

Benedict was amazed by the house, its long concrete walls and vaulted ceilings. It felt similar to a castle, empty and cold. After your evening meal, you took Benedict for a walk around the gardens. Two swings hung from the branch of a very old tree nearby, one of your favourite places to hide from Lord Howard.

“Where has he gone to?” Benedict asked, lighting a cigarette and passing it to you.

“France… I think. I was not paying very much attention when he was speaking. I was too focused on getting you here. I have been waiting for months, building rapport with the staff, friendships even. I just needed him to leave, so we could do this right” You stuttered, watching your feet dangle as you swung back and forth.

Benedict paused, taking the cigarette back and drawing in, “It has not been going well then?” The question was serious, but even he snorted when he got the words out.

“We have been intimate too many times already. I thought this was supposed to be easy. Women get pregnant all the time” You sighed.

“Yes, when they do not mean to of course. Also, you must account for your husbands age” Benedicts eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Please, do not call him that” You interrupted.

Benedict exhaled heavily, “That is who he is, y/n. He is your husband. If we do this, we commit infidelity. There are consequences for such acts, are you prepared to accept those consequences?” Benedict asked. You had not ever seen him quite this serious. It scared you, seeing what six months will change in a person.

“I am!” You said adamantly, one stiff nod of assurance. There was no way you could take any more of this. One child, that was all you needed, to make it all stop.

You reached over to Benedict’s swing, his sweet face resting on the rope, thumb caressing his cheek, “Will you be able to live with this? Your child, raised as another mans? Never being their father, or having a role in their lives?” You asked, hoping it was not too cold a question. Benedict pulled slightly away from your touch.

“That is what I wanted to speak to you about…” Benedict whispered, “I know that Lord Howard is your husband and that I am too late, y/n. I will give you a child, if I can. I will give you as many as you damn well want. But I must know that after Lord Howard has passed, you will come to me” Benedicts eyes were soft and glassy in the moonlight, the burning ember of the cigarette fading in his laxed hand.

“Benedict” You shook your head and closed your eyes. How could you make such a promise?

“I do not care if the old bastard lives another 20 years, y/n, I will wait. I will wait in torment for you. Even if I must spend the next decade in hell, learning to bend time, I will. And if we are only allowed a short time together, then so be it because whether it be 5 minutes or 50 years, it will still never be enough time. There is an inexhaustible amount of love for you in my heart. I did not recognize it before, I was selfish and hopeless. The two of you will come home to me, and we will be deliriously happy” Benedict dreamed aloud, starry eyed.

You sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other with tragic longing deep set in your eyes.

Benedict’s eyes cleared, his smile faded, “I know you love me” He breathed boldly.

You jaw clenched shut, your eyes closed over slowly, a single tear running down the far side of your face so Benedict could not see.

“I love you,” He howled toward the moon, “I loved you the moment I saw you. I have adored your passion and cherished your friendship, while cowering in the frozen solitude of my own mind. I have dreamt of you and our life together every day since your marriage date, stirring in agony, every night. Every time I close my eyes, the profound pit of blackness inside consumes me – until I wake again, then my existence is marred by its lack of yours. Your name haunts my tongue, its ineffable song too wistful a sound on my lips. I am left stumbling through life, scattered across the universe, searching for you” His once invincible foolhardiness nowhere to be seen. The peaceful eloquence of his voice so familiar to you, always a poet.

Standing from your swing, hand outstretched to Benedict, you tried to allow your eyes to do the speaking. His sad, desperate eyes, staring up at you in solemn hope, his hand bound for yours. You escorted him inside in silence, the air surrounding dense with disquiet. Leading Benedict into your bedroom, separate from the Master bedroom, you closed the door behind him.

Locking eyes in malicious yearning, your bodies came together, navels pressed, hands roaming across every inch of your torso. Benedict grasped the back of your neck, enchanted look in his eyes as he littered kisses along your jawline and down your throat. You breathed heavily under his lips, breasts heaving against his chest. Reaching around for the bows on your dress, undoing them as quickly as you could, desperate to shed your clothes for him, Benedict palmed at your breasts through your dress. He halted his movements when he noticed your hurry and began stripping himself down also.

“I have been thinking, of one thing in particular, all these months” Benedict panted, leading you over to your bed. You nodded, waiting for him to elaborate. Benedict laid, his back to the bed, your hands in his, guiding you over top of him. You hovered over his nude hips, he smiled cheekily, waving you up higher. You frowned down at him, completely confused by what he was asking. He tugged you upward, your knees resting either side of his head.

“You will have to trust me” He gave a soft, dreamy smile as you gave him a befuddled one back, bare behind resting on his chest. You pursed your lips, Benedicts hands digging into your hips pulling you down onto his face. His breath hot against your skin, his wet tongue sinking betwixt your folds, starting gently at your clit. You jerked in animated surprise, finding yourself lowering back down instinctively. Benedict’s hands kneaded your behind, rolling your hips down onto his tongue. You had done your darndest to replicate the way Benedict made you feel, to no avail, at a complete loss for how you would miss his devastating body.

Your fingers tangled into his hand, drinking in every tangible flick of his tongue against your clit. His lips pressed, sucked and kissed at you, pulling you further into his indulgent dreamland. Benedict’s big, blue eyes staring up at you, grinding down on his face, his premeditated attack on you began, wrapping his flexed arms around your thighs and holding you firmly in place. Blinding pleasure laved over you, your eyes uncontrollably clamping shut so hard you swore you saw every colour imaginable. Screaming Benedict’s name, his amused tongue swirling you to completion, you panted animalistically, unable to move.

“That was incredible. I do not believe I could have prepared myself for how much better that was going to be outside my dreams” Ben moaned into your pussy, lapping at your juices, drinking you in. You rested a moment, watching Benedicts crowning smile, his asinine eyes filled with everything else he wanted to do with you.

Freeing Benedict from beneath you he shuffled up the bed, resting upright against the grand wooden bedhead, his legs out in front of him.

“Shall we try?” Benedict asked delicately.

“Please” You whimpered, crawling to him, taking his cock in your hand.

You laid between his legs a moment, holding him in your hands, moving gently. Leaning forward to kiss his tip, your tongue flicked over his pink flesh, Benedict could not help but moan. Taking him into your mouth, you sunk down in long hot strides, pressing his cock to the back of your throat. His fingers wrapped into your hair, pulling you onto him further. Benedict relished your working on him, libidinous smile engraved on his face, pure bliss.

“I do not think that is how one makes a baby” Benedict chuffed, pulling you up quickly, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. Face to face, you grinned into his splendidly hot kisses, his hand slipping between the two of you to situate himself. You felt his tip nudging against your entrance, hard and waiting, slipping inside of you. You gasped loudly, burying your face into his neck as a biological urge forced you to bounce.

Benedict growled lowly into your ear as you moved into a groove together, slow and tedious in perpetual delight. Benedict placed his hand in the smallest of gaps between you, his thumb adjacent to your clitoris; every movement, sinking to his hilt, he brushed against you softly. You were not aware that it could happen more than once, your heart quickened aggressively, Benedict tongue descending into your mouth as you whimpered louder and louder. Nails embedded into Ben’s shoulders, blood nearly drawn, your eyes holding his gaze, sheer hunger lived in his eyes. Hunger for you. Your pussy began quivering around him, aching, throbbing, trying desperately to take in more of him. Excruciating pleasure erupted from you, grasping his cock hard from within, your legs shook as your wetness spread between the two of you. Benedict did not stop this time, taking his hands to your hips as you ceased moving, manipulating your movements, grunting into your neck. Every time he led you to release, he seemed to get harder, more attracted to you. You did your best to get deep breaths in, to bring yourself back to reality, his cock still pounding into you steadily made it difficult. His teeth edge to edge in painstaking need, his forceful hands and powerful thrust told you he was close.

“Please,” Your voice rang out, his eyes needy and frenzied, “Please, Benedict, put that baby in me!” You continued to beg, his ragged panting and dreary eye contact wavering as you took control of your body again, bouncing heartily onto his cock. Every muscle in his body seemed to tighten at the same time, his hands aggressively pressing you down, as he groaned and grunted fiercely. You squeezed him inside, gently rolling your hips forward, feeling his cock pulsate inside you.

Benedict’s head rested against the bed head, his breath uneven and heart throbbing in his chest. Attempting to get off him, to allow him room to breathe, Benedict stopped you. He blinked himself back to this plane of existence.

“No, it helps if we stay like this” He explained through puffs.

“Really?” You frowned, never having thought about it.

“Yes,” He nodded frantically, “If we stay like this, everything will stay inside” He explained. You hummed in agreement, thinking perhaps that was what you had been doing wrong. Whatever it was that you were doing wrong, you were glad for it. If this made you an adulterer, a traitor, a betrayer, you did not care. Not for this.

Your hands rest on Benedicts chest, fingers splayed in brown chest hair, your eyes lingering over his collar bones and shoulders.

“What are you doing?” He asked, feeling rather observed.

“Taking you in” You purred, taking mental pictures in case you never saw him again. Benedicts hand rose to your face, his thumb rolling over your bottom lip, sliding down your neck to lure you into his most romantic kiss yet. Moments later, Benedict allowed you to slide off him, laying you with your legs up parallel to the headboard. You wondered how many more times you would get to feel like this.

“Shall I leave in the morning?” Benedict asked, a tremble in his voice.

“Absolutely not!” You exclaimed, Benedict lying next to you, a huge grin on his face.

“I joke, my Lady” Benedict laughed as you shoved him gently.

“You will be staying the entire week. I will hold you prisoner if I must” You chortled.

“Excellent, better treatment than home I expect. I will take it” Benedict stretched, every strained muscle flexing in exhilarating sex appeal. “We need every opportunity if we’re to make this baby” He smiled, thrilled at the chance to say such things, hoping one day his babies would come home to him.

“That is not the only reason I want you to stay” You said mellifluously, your soft, thoughtful eyes inspecting his reactions. Benedict frowned placidly, unsuspecting of your joyful surrender.

“You are the love of my life, Benedict Bridgerton,” Tears welled grievously, guileless love calm in your smile, “We will be together. I will be your wife, and I will bring our children home to you”.

Benedict leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, unhurried and glorious. Tears streamed down his face, amazed and implicit, his sureness of his love for you unwavering.

“How ever long it takes, whatever I must do, we will be together” Benedict smile was humble, but fearless.

--------------------------------------------

Tag list: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr // @marvelouslyme96 // @moreover-clover // @dollarstore-lydia-deetz // @newavenger // @lifealot // @rosie-posie08 // @saintmagx //

If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fanfiction written by me, please let me know!

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I've been obsessed with your writing for a while now, ur poly marauders is just perfecttt. The way you write them is just so accurate to my personal characterizations and head cannons :)

I had an idea that I thought would be cute but feel free to ignore if it doesn't inspire you ofc.

I was thinking about poly! Marauders x goth! Reader. Like reader forcing them to watch her favorite horror movies or explore abandoned places or like go to a concert or smtn

Omg and the reader dressing up to go out with them and them just dying cuz the eyeliner and fishnets and everything (who can blame them, goth girls r gorgeous 😍😍)

Thanks lovely!!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 927 words

“Is it on me?” James hears the door open, followed by Sirius’ voice, growing shriller. “Is it on me?” 

“I don’t think so.” You sound one part amused and two parts exasperated. “Stay still, I can’t look while you’re moving around.” 

James leaves the dishes in the sink to soak, too curious to prioritize chores. He finds you both in the entryway. Remus is observing from the couch as Sirius stands rigidly still and you pick through his hair unhurriedly. You’re both covered in dust and what looks to be cobwebs, made even more apparent on you by your dark clothing. 

“I thought you were going to drop clothes off at the donation bin,” James says bemusedly. 

“We did,” you reply, at the same time as Sirius says, “It was a trap!”

Remus lifts an eyebrow. James is glad he’s not the only one who seems to be missing something. 

“There’s an old abandoned church not far from there,” you explain casually. “I wanted to check it out, and Sirius thought it could be fun to explore, too.” 

“That was before I knew it housed the world’s largest spider population,” he argues. “Fuck, can someone get this thing off me? If I feel anything crawling I’m gonna flip shit.” 

“Aren’t you already?” Remus murmurs. You grin at him, stepping back to let James take over for you. 

“I assume I’m taking out the web?” James asks, picking out a piece. 

You sigh. “Sirius thought he saw a spider in the car—” 

“I know I did, thank you.” 

“—and he’s worried it got on him. But I’ve been looking, and I haven’t seen it.” 

“I’m fairly sure it would have crawled off by now, love,” Remus says, sitting up on his knees and beckoning you to the couch so he can pull the spiderwebs out of your hair, too. 

“All I know is, if no one finds that thing on me, I’m going to take the world’s hottest shower to make sure it’s dead.” 

“You’ll have to hurry,” Remus reminds him. “Our reservation is at eight.” 

“We can be a few minutes late.” 

“We cannot.”

“Fuck!” James jumps a good few feet back, hands frozen in front of him. 

“What?” Sirius cries. His shoulders seize up. “What is it?” 

“Shit, sorry, it’s nothing. I thought I saw something move, but it was your hair.” 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Sirius puts his face in his hands, sounding less murderous than teary. “Remus, please.” 

“I’ll take care of you next,” Remus replies, dedicatedly combing his fingers through your hair. 

James mumbles an apology as he goes back to doing the same thing to Sirius. All in all, you look like you’ve actually gotten the brunt of it. You’re covered in spiderwebs, likely a result of you simply putting far less work into avoiding them than Sirius. You seem unbothered as Remus unsticks a rather large one from by your ear.  

You go off to change for dinner first, because Sirius refuses to move until both James and Remus have each checked him over for spiders twice, and even then he still insists upon his shower. James can’t say he’d feel differently in his place. 

He thinks he might need a cold shower himself when you come back out. 

“Angel,” James breathes. It’s both an endearment and an observation. His eyes stutter their way up you, continually snagging on fishnet tights and kohl-lined eyes and the little lace ruffle lining your top. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. 

“You look lovely,” Remus says, smooth where James is not, and you grin as you lean down to kiss him on the cheek. A pink tinge rises up from beneath your boyfriend’s freckles and scars. When you lift your lips, you leave a dark imprint of lipstick behind that James has absolutely no intentions of telling him about. 

“So do you,” you say, as though he’s not wearing the exact same thing he was a minute ago. (Though James is nonetheless inclined to agree. Remus always looks lovely.) Your eyes turn to James, the black liner making them look deeper and even more striking than usual. 

“You do, too,” you tell him. He feels a flock of butterflies (do butterflies have flocks?) scare into flight in his stomach. 

His grin feels wobbly, but certainly not for lack of enthusiasm. “Thanks,” he manages. 

“So, I was talking to Sirius in the bathroom,” you say, sitting on the arm of the couch. James’ eyes follow the movement of your skirt, the way it rides up with the motion. He warms in several places. “He says that if the spider’s not on him, it has to be in the car. He won’t get in it until we’ve checked.” 

Remus exhales heavily through his nose, and you nod your agreement. 

“I’m not convinced he actually saw anything,” you say. “He is so paranoid.” 

“Or maybe you,” James leans over to kiss your cheek, unable to restrain himself any longer as he reaches around you to squeeze the fat of your hip, “are just far too even-tempered from watching so many horror films.” 

“No, he’s paranoid,” Remus agrees with you, groaning as he gets up. “I’ll check the car. If I don’t find anything, we’ll just say we caught it.” 

“I’ll help.” You slip off the arm of the couch, starting after him with springy steps. 

James follows, if only so he can stand behind you and keep you from flashing the next-door neighbors when you bend over to look. It’s strictly selfless.

[assignedmale]

Our recent troubles with our home have made me acutely aware of how after ten years of working on these comics, I am still just a few bad lucks away from finding myself back on the street (lots of love to everyone who helped us out this winter!). It is unsustainable for my health and for the well-being of my family.

I think the main reason is that since the pandemic and the following recession, I have avoided mentioning my patreon as much as I could. It felt out of place, when so many people in our communities were struggling. Naturally, subscribers come and go and that's how it should be. However, barely promoting it for several years has made the amount of subscribers slowly but steadily decline. When you add inflation to the mix, I'm now at a point where I can barely afford groceries.

I used to rely on speaking tours to make up for it. But honestly, it has become too dangerous. I have never received as many threats as I do right now. As my husband and I are trying to conceive, it would be reckless to put myself in harm's way as much as I used to.

Of course, I could stop everything and get a job that pays real money at any time. But I don't think I could live with myself, not when our communities are facing so much violence. I believe in what I do and the importance of creating art that empowers and raise awareness.

So this is to let you know that I will be promoting my patreon a bit more in the coming weeks. It always feels awkward, first and foremost because I know that a lot of my most dedicated readers, the ones who have the highest chance of seeing these posts, are already patrons in one way or another, but also because it probably gets repetitive for many of you. I hope you won't mind!

My goal is to eventually double the current amount of subscribers (965). Do you believe that we can do it?

www.patreon.com/assignedmale

I have also two other pages, if you are interested in different content : A Frog in the Bog, about my foraging and gardening in Finland : www.patreon.com/afroginthebog Pastel Sexy Times, my 18+ art and short story page : www.patreon.com/pastelsexytimes

I wish you all the best for Pride Month - stay tuned for a lot of new art!

Love you, Sophie

[pictured : Nandor the Relentless, for engagement]

[serpentandlily]

Beneath the Ashes (I/II) - Azriel x Reader

Beneath the Ashes Part I - Azriel x Illyrian!Reader

Summary: Azriel finally finds the girl he’s been looking for all these years—his mate. But unfortunately for him, his mate happens to be an Illyrian who, upset over the fact that he’s turned his back on his own people, wants nothing to do with him. (Enemies to lovers vibes, angst)

a/n: based on this REQUEST. This is going to be a two part story because I kind of went a little too hard writing this haha. Thank you for your request and the inspiration! (Also I know a lot of you asked to be on a taglist for this story but since it’s only 2 parts I’m not gonna make one)

warnings: misogyny, sexism

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Part I of II

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Azriel was not happy, to say the least. Not as he landed on the cold, hard ground of one of the Illyrian war camps in the northern region of the mountains. He internally cursed at Cassian for still being on his mating honeymoon with Nesta because now he was being forced to do things Cass would normally be in charge of—primarily dealing with the Illyrians.

It wasn't a secret that Azriel hated Illyria and all its people. Hated that he came from such a barbaric, backwards culture.  He knew Cass was trying to do all he could to break the traditions Illyrians held, but Azriel had always told him they were a lost cause. If he could never see these damn mountains again, he'd consider it a blessing.

But, evidently, that was not a blessing he'd be allowed—at least, not until Cassian returned. For now, he was the one who was being sent out on these missions by his High Lord. 

Rhys had gotten word that some commotion was happening in the camp that had its people up in arms about something. He had asked Azriel to go check it out and who was he to turn down a request from his brother? So here he was. He was just hoping to get this over with soon. 

He had tried sending his shadows ahead of time to collect intel, but they had been acting weird ever since they returned to him. They had swarmed him with their cryptic messages.

Beautiful.

Our master must see. 

Permission to kill, master?

Needless to say, Azriel had no fucking idea what any of that meant. He had given them no such permission to kill, at least, not until he could see for himself what was transpiring here. 

He was passing by the training rings, ignoring the stares of the brutes who were working out and sparring within them, when he heard several sets of loud voices. He quickened his pace, following the voices into the residential section of the camp until he finally beheld what was causing the commotion. 

Three males were on the porch of one of the cabins, restraining a female Illyrian, who was thrashing around like a wildcat, screaming, "Let me go, you assholes!"

Another male Azriel recognized as the War Lord of the camp was standing on the steps leading up to the small cabin, arms crossed and a sneer on his face. A male next to him was holding a blubbering Illyrian toddler, whose arms were outstretched towards the female with tears pouring down her chubby cheeks. 

None of them had noticed him yet which Azriel used to his advantage. His shadows were already wailing when he let them loose. They spiraled towards the group, swirling around the males holding the female and yanking them away from her. All of their heads snapped in Azriel's direction except for the female. She tumbled to the ground but quickly scrambled to get up and rushed towards the male next to the War Lord, not even sparing a glance at what had caused the males to unleash her. 

She went to grab the little girl from the male holding her but was quickly held back by the War Lord with a growl. The War Lord twisted her arms behind her back, holding her in place, but his glare was firmly set on Azriel.

Azriel's face displayed no emotions as he stalked forward, his hand ghosting over Truth-Teller. 

"Shadowsinger," the War Lord bit out in greeting. The other males quickly got to their feet and stood at attention. 

"Silas," Azriel said, not bothering to address him properly which made the male bristle, "Care to explain what is happening here?" 

"None of your business, Shadowsinger," Silas hissed. "I have it under control."

"Doesn't seem like it," Azriel replied, coolly. 

The female was still trying to break out of Silas's grip, cursing under her breath. He tightened his hold on her, causing her to hiss in pain as he twisted her wrists in his hands. Azriel's shadows seemed to hiss in response, poised to attack as soon as Azriel gave them permission. 

Azriel's gaze fell on the female, noting the frustrated tears in her eyes. It seemed like there had been a scuffle. Her hair was half falling out of her braid, she had scrape marks on one of her cheeks, and a bruise was beginning to form on her jaw. One of her wings was flared out proudly while the other drooped to the floor at a weird angle. His fists clenched at the sight and when she finally looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, the breath was completely knocked out of his lungs. 

Despite her tattered appearance, she was single-handedly the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He stood frozen for a moment, taken aback before he shook himself out of the spell she seemed to cast on him, realizing how inappropriate of a time it was to be ogling her. 

"Let her go, Silas," Azriel commanded in a dark voice.

"I don't take orders from you," Silas spat out. "Besides, this female has been breaking the law for months now. We're taking her into custody." 

"Fuck you," the female barked out, stomping on Silas's foot. The male cursed and went to strike her on the back of her head but Azriel's shadow caught his wrist in their grasp before he could. 

"I said," Azriel growled, lowly, causing the males to shift in place, "Let her go." 

"Fine," Silas sneered, though a tiny bit of fear flashed in his dark eyes. He pushed her to the ground in front of him. She was quick to spring back to her feet and rush towards the toddler who was still screeching. The male could hardly keep hold of the little girl.

"Let the babe go, too," Azriel snapped. The male scoffed but set the little girl down. She immediately ran to the female who bent down with her arms wide open, catching the little girl and standing with her firmly on her hip. The little girl's cries quieted down and she buried her small face in the female's neck. 

"Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Azriel snarled, taking another step closer. Half the males mirrored his step back and he fought the urge to chuckle. 

"Like I said," Silas snapped, "This female has been breaking the law—”

“What law?” Azriel asked, firmly.

“Females are not permitted to live alone nor own houses,” Silas barked out. “She has ignored our warnings—”

“My father left the cabin to me in his will!” The female shouted, causing the small toddler in her arms to whimper. She stroked the girl's hair, shushing her. “It belongs to me.”

“I don’t care what your father promised you,” Silas growled. “It is against the law for you to be living here alone. You must surrender the cabin and go live in the barracks with the other unwed females of marrying age. Your sister will be placed under the care of the matron.” 

“Like hell I’m leaving her under the care of that female! You’re just going to have her wings clipped and force her to do grueling chores all day! She stays with me!” 

“You are out of line! I knew your father wasn’t raising the two of you right. Ever since your mother passed away—”

 “Don’t you dare say another word about my parents!”  

The War Lord lunged towards the female with a growl but Azriel shadowed between them, unsheathing Truth-Teller and pressing it against the male’s throat. 

“Lay a hand on her and I’ll gut you right here in front of all of your brutes,” Azriel snarled. 

Silas stepped back with a scoff. “You want to stick your nose in our business? Fine, then she’s your problem. I expect her out of this house by the end of today, Shadowsinger, or there will be worse consequences.” 

He stormed away, his entourage trailing behind him while sending glares to the female. Azriel waited until they were out of view before he turned to look at the female but she was gone from next to him, already walking up the steps to the cabin with the babe—her sister—on her hip.

Azriel went to follow her but she stormed into the cabin and slammed the door in his face before he could so much as utter a single word. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before he knocked on the door. When Rhys had mentioned a problem happening in this camp, he hadn't expected to deal with something like this. It would’ve been much easier if it had been a problem he could solve with his fists. 

When she didn't answer, he knocked harder—nearly causing the door to shutter. 

It flung open a second later, a seething female behind it. "I already told those assholes I'm not leaving. If you're here to tell me to pack up and move, you can kiss my ass."

Azriel had to stop his lips from twitching into an amused smirk at her words. He wasn't used to dealing with female Illyrians that had attitudes. Most of them kept their heads down and stayed quiet. His mother had been like that....

"I'm not here to tell you that," Azriel answered. "May I come inside?" 

She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and staring him down. He found himself even more amused at how she was trying to intimidate him. Most fae avoided him and his gaze. But a female, whose head barely reached his shoulders, seemed to be completely unfazed by him.  

"No, you may not," she snapped. "Anything you need to say to me can be said perfectly fine from where you're standing." 

“Can I at least bring a healer to come check out your injuries?” He eyed the scrapes on her face, the bruise and her drooping wing. Azriel’s chest ached at the sight and anger pulsed under his skin. He wanted to turn around and go rip those males apart limb by limb for laying a hand on her.

“I don’t need your help, shadowsinger,” she spat out.

"Fine," Azriel sighed. "I was sent by the High Lord because there's been reports of someone here causing disarray. I'm going to assume that someone is you." 

She shrugged, nonchalantly, her eyes flickering between his own and the shadows swirling around him that wouldn't shut up about how beautiful she was, how brave....They were singing her praise. It confused him. His shadows had never acted like this before. 

When she failed to answer, Azriel cleared his throat, uncomfortably. “Will you answer my question?”

“Aren’t you the spymaster?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be able to gather intel yourself and not rely on a lowly Illyrian female?”

“A lowly Illyrian female?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at her crass words towards herself.

“Isn’t that how you and all the High Lord’s dogs view us?” Her tone was biting, her eyes filled with hate.

Azriel shifted, at a loss for words. He was used to being met with hostility by the Illyrians, but never usually from the females themselves. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

It was a lousy response, but he truly had no idea what to say. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him and moved from the doorway, grasping the door. 

“Even if I could help you, I wouldn’t care enough to do so,” she snapped. “Now, if that is all, you can kindly escort yourself off my property, shadowsinger. Thank you.”

The door slammed in his face a second later.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Azriel returned a few hours later with a letter from the High Lord in his hands. He stormed through the camp, once again ignoring all the glares sent his way. He pushed his way inside the main war tent where Silas was sitting at his desk, twirling a dagger in his hands. His dark eyes looked up at him as he walked in, narrowing.

“You’re back,” Silas said, voice dripping with disdain. “I noticed that the female has still not been relocated from the cabin.”

Azriel strode forward and slammed the letter down on his desk. Silas’s eyes dipped down to it, quickly reading the short message before he looked back up at Azriel with a sneer. “What is this?”

“A notice from the High Lord and Lady,” Azriel answered, face unreadable. “Any laws that forbid a female from living alone or owning property are hereby revoked. This repeal shall be set in motion immediately.” 

"I can read just fine, Shadowsinger," Silas snapped. "I meant what the fuck is this? Does Rhysand think he can just snap his fingers and remove laws that have been around for centuries? I refuse to allow this."

"You'll address the High Lord properly or I'll cut your tongue out for your disrespect," Azriel growled. "The High Lord and High Lady can do whatever they want. You will abide by these new laws or your title of War Lord in this camp will be revoked." 

Silas looked like he wanted to say more, a vein in his forehead pulsing, but he only tightened his hands into fists and let out a long breath. "Very well then, Shadowsinger. I assume you've already informed Y/n of this?" 

"Y/n?"

Silas smirked. "You ran to tattle on us to the High Lord and didn't even know the name of the bitch you—"

Before anything else could come out of the War Lord's mouth, Azriel stalked forward and kicked his desk over, causing both Silas and all his paperwork and trinkets to smash on the floor. The War Lord let out a pathetic gasp in fear, scrambling to his feet and pressing himself against the back of the tent.

"Talk about her like that again," Azriel snarled. "And I'll rip out your throat."

Silas quickly tried to school his composure but Azriel could still see the lingering terror in his eyes. Silas straightened out his leathers before glaring at him. "It's nice to see the Illyrian is still in you after all this time, Shadowsinger. Once a brute, always a brute—isn't that what you like to say?" 

Azriel felt his pulse spike at Silas's words. He hated being reminded that he was Illyrian, even more so being compared to the worst of them. He wasn’t even sure why such rage had sparked in him in the first place. Silas's lips twitched into a smirk as he saw the way his words striked through him. But Azriel didn't wait around to hear what else the asshole had to say, letting his raging shadows swoop him into their darkness. 

He stepped out of the shadows and onto the porch of the cabin he had been at earlier. He took several breaths, trying to calm himself before gently knocking on the door. After no one answered for a moment, he lifted his fist to knock again but the door was pulled open, leaving his hand to hover in the air. He dropped it to his side, narrowing his eyebrows as he was met with no one.

"Hewwo."

Azriel nearly jumped in fright before his gaze dropped to the toddler that stood in the doorway. It was the little girl from earlier, Y/n's sister. He swallowed harshly, eyes darting around the foyer of the cabin in hopes that her sister would pop out any second but no one came. He wasn't good with children, and wasn't used to being around them. Nyx was the only child he had ever really been around and he was still a baby. 

Azriel sighed and crouched down on his haunches, making him more eye level for the little girl. Her shoulder length hair was the same color as her sister’s, her eyes too. The resemblance between the two of them was undeniable. 

"Hello there," Azriel said as gently as he could. "Is your sister home by any chance?" 

“Mhm,” the little girl hummed, busy watching the swirling shadows all around him. 

"Do you think you can go get her for me?" 

She shook her head no, her hair bobbing with the motion. 

"Why not?" Azriel asked, keeping his voice light.

"Cause I'll get in trouble," she said with a little lisp. "Mm not 'pposed to open the door." 

Azriel smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. He was surprised that she didn't seem scared of him or his shadows, as most kids were. "Don't worry, I won't tell her you opened the door for me. It can be our little secret."

She looked to be contemplating his promise, her little nose scrunched up. One of his shadows whisked forward and started swirling around her tiny frame. To Azriel's surprise, the little girl giggled, swiping her hand around to try and catch it. 

"Suri, what are you—Get away from her!" 

Y/n came thundering down the hall, yanking her sister away from the doorframe. Azriel stood to his full height, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as she glared at him before turning to look down at her sister.

"Suri, go to your room." 

"No," Suri pouted, crossing her little arms. "I wanna play with the shadows."

Azriel's lips twitched. This was quite possibly the first time a child had ever seemed anything but scared of his shadows. It was oddly endearing. 

"Go to your room," Y/n commanded in a stronger voice. "Now."

Suri stomped her foot but did as she was told, disappearing from his view. 

"What are you doing back here?" She hissed, once her sister was gone. 

Azriel pulled out the other parchment paper he had brought with him, the same notice he had given Silas. He held it out for her. "I came to deliver this." 

She took the paper from him, glancing at him suspiciously. Azriel watched as her pretty doe eyes scanned the parchment, reading Rhysand's elegant script. To his surprise, she started to chuckle to herself. She handed it back to him, her face twisted into a mocking smirk. 

"Do you honestly think this is going to stop them from trying to kick me out of this house?" She asked him, sarcastically. His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm guessing you're going to patrol this camp for a week or two to make sure they're adhering to the notice and then you'll wipe your hands clean of this all, pretending the High Lord solved everything. But you know the day you stop showing up here, Silas will be at my doorstep." 

"I can assure you that we'll do everything we can to make sure all the WarLords follow these new laws," Azriel said, his face unreadable and his voice detached. She shook her head with a smile that lacked any warmth. “I promise you that.”

"Right," she drawled out, "Well, thank you so much for your help, shadowsinger." 

She went to shut the door but Azriel stuck his hand out, catching it before she could. His gaze fell to her drooping wing, still bent at an awkward angle. "Please, let me bring a healer to attend to your wing." 

Her wing could heal on her own. It would probably only take a day or two, but just seeing it made Azriel's chest ache. He knew the pain she must be in. 

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't pretend like you care about my wings." 

"I've broken a wing before, too," he explained. "I know how much it hurts. Please, let me help you." 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Do you want to know the difference between my wings and your's, shadowsinger? Your wings healed. You get to fly. Mine will never heal."

Azriel's gaze dropped back to her wings, now noticing the two scars—clipped. Her wings had been clipped. His heart dropped into his stomach, rage bubbling to the surface instead.

"Who?" he growled, his voice ice cold. 

"Like I said," she bit out, "Don't pretend like you care." 

"I do care," Azriel replied, fists clenching. And it was true, he did. Wing clipping was a heinous crime, one that had been outlawed since Rhys was sworn in as the High Lord of the Night Court. Of course, sometimes the practice of wing clipping still took place in remote camps that slipped through the cracks. "Wing clipping has been forbidden since—"

"I am well aware that wing clipping is forbidden," she snapped. "But like your stupid little notice, no one cares. And the High lord and all of his cronies, you included, Shadowsinger, have made it very clear that you don't either." 

"We do care," Azriel argued. "We do. But we cannot keep watch of all the camps at all times. We rely on people reporting it—" 

"Oh, spare me from hearing your excuses," she cut him off with a growl. "Do you want to know who did this to me? Here's a clue—go look in the High Lord's desk for a letter addressed from me. I've been sending one every single day for the past six years so there's bound to be at least one still around." 

"Six...six years?" Azriel questioned, quietly. "You've been sending a letter every day for six years and not one of them was ever answered?"

Sure, Rhysand had been gone for fifty years, of course and the rest of them had been unable to leave Velaris thanks to him. Then, they had been busy with the war and didn’t have time to deal with inner court problems. But it had been two years since then and she was still sending letters. Letters looking for justice for what happened to her. Letters gone unanswered.

"Not a single one," she huffed.

"Y/n...I am so sorry—"

"Save it," she barked out. "Now, if we're done here, I'd like you to leave." 

"Please, let me help you—"

Azriel choked in surprise as something within snapped. He couldn’t breath, taking a single step back as a golden thread weaved its way through the space between him and the female standing before him. 

Before his brain could even process what just happened, the door was slammed in his face. But Azriel stood frozen on her porch. Frozen in shock because he had finally found his mate. After all these years, he had finally found the person he had been searching for. 

And she absolutely hated him. 

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Your wing had healed enough by the next morning that you could lift it off the ground, though it was rather painful to do so. Your pride made you suck it up, not wanting to go to the healer and have anyone touch your wings. No one had laid a hand on your wings since the day they were clipped and you wanted to keep it that way.

You got ready for the day, putting on one of your mother's old white, chemise dresses. It fell to the top of your boots, swishing around your ankles. You layered a dark blue skirt over it before putting on a front lace-up corset. You grimaced as you did up the buttons under your injured wings before you tightened the corset until it fit snuggly. Lastly, you threw on a cloak. It was snowing outside today and the last thing you needed was to freeze to death.

You stepped in the hallway, the cabin quiet. You went to wake up Suri to get her ready for the day. Normally she was still asleep, so you were surprised when you heard her voice the closer you got to the door to her bedroom. 

"Bad doggy," she babbled, her voice muffled through the door. "You can't go in there." 

Your eyes widened, realizing she was talking to someone or something. You quickly slammed her door open, eyes darting around in concern. Suri jumped as her door banged open, spinning around on her bed to look at you. A small shadow wisped behind her, like it was hiding. 

"Suri?" You questioned. "Who were you talking to?" 

"Issy!" Suri sang out, jumping off her bed in her little pajamas. She still called you issy, unable to pronounce your name easily or the word sister. "The doggy came back!"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "The what?"

The shadow darted out from behind Suri, swirling around her and causing the little girl to giggle, "Doggy!"

Your eyes narrowed. One of Azriel's shadows had not only lingered behind, but had been staying with your baby sister. You felt your pulse spike with anger. As if it could sense your emotions, the shadow stopped swirling around and instead pressed itself on the floor like it was bashful and guilty. 

You scoffed, "Go back to your master! We don't want you here." 

The shadow wisped upwards, disappearing through the ceiling. A realization had you clenching your fists. Suri pouted. "Issy, you scared the doggy away!" 

"That was not a dog—" you cut yourself off with a sigh. "Suri, go brush your teeth and your hair while I get breakfast ready, okay?" 

"No," Suri grumbled, her tiny nose twitching. "Not unless you get doggy back!" 

"If you do as I say, I'll make you strawberry pancakes for breakfast." 

"Strawb'rry pancakies!" Suri squealed, the shadow momentarily forgotten. Satisfied with your deal, your sister rushed off to get ready. You left her to it, stalking outside through the backdoor. You walked a few paces away from the cabin, staring up at the roof, using a hand to block the rising sun from your eyes.

"I know you're up there!" you shouted. "Don't bother trying to hide!" 

Footsteps were heard and then there was Azriel, peering down at you from his perch on your roof. His annoyingly beautiful face was near unreadable, his hair in a bit of disarray like he'd ran his hand through it one too many times. Dark circles were underneath his hazel eyes and those familiar shadows were whirling around him.

"Why are you on my roof?" You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Good morning, Y/n," Azriel said, his voice low and husky from disuse through the night. "I've been keeping watch. I wanted to make sure none of those males would bother you again." 

"I already told you I don't need or want your help, Shadowsinger! Now get the fuck off my roof," you snarled at him. You didn't want him here. You didn't want his stupid shadows near you or Suri either. Besides, since when did he care what happened to you or any other Illyrian females? He had turned his back on his own people the day he ran off to the High Lord's perfect little city, pretending like he wasn't one of you, wasn't Illyrian. 

Easy for him. He was a male that could get siphons to use his powers correctly, a male who hadn't been forced down and clipped. He could fly wherever he wanted, go wherever he wanted. He had money and resources you wouldn't even bother dreaming for. Azriel could wipe his hands clean and pretend like he hadn't been born in these mountains and hadn't left anyone behind to suffer when he left. 

It was one thing to escape this brutalizing, barbaric way of living. It was another to gain power and influence within the court and not bother to help your own people. Azriel was a traitor and he could go to hell for all you cared. 

You hated him for it. Hated him and all of his friends. Hated the High Lord and Lady who did little to help anyone here. Hated the General for leading your father to his death in the war. You hated them all.  

Azriel let out a quiet sigh. "I know you don't need my help, but I... I can't just leave knowing those males might come back and hurt you again. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it."

"I don't care about your stupid promises," you bit back. "Get off my roof and go home, Azriel. You're not wanted here." 

"I know you hate me and I know we've all let you down," Azriel replied, guilt shimmering in his eyes. "I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you, Y/n. I promise." 

"Again with the promises! Your words mean nothing to me," you grumbled, tossing your hands in the air. "I don't have time for this. You know what? You want to spend all of eternity sitting on my roof, you go ahead! But I would really appreciate it if you would just fuck off!"

You didn't bother waiting for his response, storming back into your house and slamming the door shut behind you. 

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

A week went by and Azriel kept watch over you the entire time. Every day you would walk outside and peer up at the roof to see him perched there, oftentimes twirling his dagger in his hand lazily. He'd give you a small smile that looked more like a grimace and you'd roll your eyes and go back inside. 

You hated that some part of you did feel better knowing he was there. You knew his reputation and you knew none of the males in this camp would bother you as long as he was there. But it still infuriated you to see his face every morning. To see him shake the snow off his wings. To see him glare down at everyone in your camp like you were all beneath him. 

You especially hated how much Suri had come to love his shadows, always chasing them down the hallways of the cabin. You just wanted him gone. 

And it seemed like you got your wish two weeks later.

It was nighttime, the house quiet now that you'd coaxed Suri into going to bed. You were getting ready for bed yourself, dressed in a nightgown and putting out the fire when a series of soft knocks caught your attention. You frowned, pausing to look at the door. Who would be coming by at this time? Certainly no one good. 

You were debating on ignoring it when a dark shadow whisked its way underneath the door. 

"Y/n," Azriel called out. "It's just me." 

You rolled your eyes and opened your door, knowing he wouldn't leave until you did so.

"What?" You eyed him, taking in his disheveled appearance. You wondered how he survived spending the night in the snow. Just the small draft that came in from opening the door had you shivering. You hugged yourself, your hair blowing gently in the ice cold breeze.

Azriel seemed at a loss for words for a second, his eyes roaming down your body before he met your gaze. His cheeks turned a bit pink as you raised an eyebrow at him. He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion.

"I need to leave for a few days," Azriel finally said. "The High Lord is sending me on a small mission. I...I would feel a lot better if you'd let me take you and your sister somewhere else while I'm gone. I can set the two of you up in a nice inn or tavern in Velaris. Or you could stay at my personal residence. Just for a few days." 

You stared at him utterly perplexed. "You're...you're joking, right?" 

He shook his head looking dead serious. "No, Y/n, I'm not. I worry what will happen if I'm not here to watch over you. Please, just...just let me help. It might be nice for Suri to take her to Velaris and let her see the city." 

"You're out of your mind," you hissed. "I'm not leaving my house and certainly not with you. I already told you I don't need your help."

You went to shut the door but Azriel reached out and grabbed it before you could.

"Please, I just want to help—"

“Azriel, I have survived here on my own for the past two years since my father died in the war,” you growled. “You can't sit on my roof forever. If you truly wanted to fix things, you would've done so centuries ago. So just leave, Azriel. And don't bother coming back." 

“I do care,” Azriel pleaded. “Please—”

"I am not leaving," you snapped. "I am not letting those stupid males run me from my own home. I don't know why you even care! And stop with the whole 'I promised you' thing. You don’t even know me!”

He opened his mouth to say something else but you slammed the door shut in his face. You locked the deadbolt before letting out a sigh. 

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Azriel was worried. Worried and scared and angry. Worried that Silas and his goons would bother his mate while he was gone. Scared that they’d hurt her. And angry at just the thought of that. His chest ached as he thought about his mate and her clear hatred towards him. He couldn’t blame her for it. She was right. He had abandoned Illyria a long time ago. 

But that needed to change. He needed that to change. Not just for his mate’s sake but for her sister, for Nyx, for all the females and children whose lives were awful because of the males in charge of all their camps. 

She had been the wake up call he needed. He had the privilege of being a male in Illyria. He got to keep his wings. Got to work at having a different life then the one he was born into. His mate hadn’t had those opportunities. She was flightless, stuck to the ground and stuck in her miserable camp. 

Azriel wanted nothing more than to just grab her and her sister and get them far away from Illyria. To bring them to his apartment in Velaris where he could take care of them, could keep them safe. 

But his mate didn’t trust him. 

He would do anything to prove himself to her. Prove that he did care for her and all the other Illyrian females. No matter how much hate he was met with, he’d keep crawling back until he earned her forgiveness and a chance to give her a better life. 

She deserved that more than anything. Not just because she was his mate but because she had been so strong all these years, standing up to males twice her size and keeping her sister’s wings from being mutilated like hers had been. She didn’t choose to be Illyrian anymore than he did. 

And Gods, he wanted her to stop hating him. He wanted her to give him a chance. Just one chance to show her what she truly deserved. He had learned so much about her by just watching her this week and he knew that no other female would come close to capturing his heart and attention the way she had in just that short span of time he’d known her. 

Azriel knew he didn’t deserve her or her forgiveness. He knew she was too good for him. Too beautiful, too pure of heart. He could see that just by the way she took care of her sister and the other females in her village, despite the torment it brought her from the males. 

He let out a sigh, his eyes still locked on the camp of Autumn Soldiers. He was doing a reconnaissance mission. Beron was up to something again and these soldiers had been spotted on the coast. 

It had been two days since he left his mate and so far, nothing had been unknowingly sent down the bond except for her normal moods she fluctuated with during the day. 

He just needed to finish this mission and rush back to Velaris to drop off his report to Rhysand before he could get back to her. He normally liked to take his time on his missions but this was quite possibly the first time he ever had a want to get back faster. He was hoping to sneak into the River House and set his report on Rhys's desk without seeing anyone. He'd been ignoring and skipping family dinners for the past week and knew they'd have a lot to say about it. 

Azriel faltered as a wave of fear crashed through him. No, not fear. Terror. Unbridled terror and then pain. He sucked in a breath, nearly falling from the tree he was perched in. He was frozen for a second before he realized what was happening---his mate was in danger. 

It took him less than a second to decide to abandon the mission and shadow all the way back to the Illyrian mountains. Azriel let out a curse when he stepped out of the shadows in front of his mate's cabin to see it covered in flames. Someone had set it on fire and it was quickly crumbling under the flames. His heart was beating in his chest as he strained his ears to make sure no one was inside.

But then the most heart-stopping, chill inducing sound was heard ringing through the camp.

His mate's screams.

He sprinted towards the sound, his boots pounding against the cold hard ground. It led him to the town center where a crowd had formed, males hollering and shouting encouragement at whatever was happening. 

Azriel pushed his way through the crowd, shoving aside male after male until he reached the front. His heart dropped in his stomach as he beheld what was happening before him. 

His mate on her knees, holding up the tatters of her shirt to maintain her dignity. Silas standing behind with a whip in hand, raising it in the air again. Blood all over the white snow around his mate, staining it red. Tear streaks running down his mate's face, her beautiful face pale and twisted in pain. One of Silas's commanders holding a crying and screaming Suri, her tiny fists pounding on his chest. 

Azriel wished he knew what happened next. Wished he had this memory to look back on whenever he remembered the rage he felt. But one second he was standing there staring at his mate in horror and the next second, he was surrounded by dead bodies with Truth-teller in his hand dripping with blood. The camp had fallen silent and his ears were ringing, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. 

Suri had been dropped in the chaos and had rushed towards her sister, throwing her small arms around her neck as she sobbed.

And his mate.

His beautiful mate was staring right at him, eyes wide from witnessing the carnage he had just unleashed in this camp. Silas laid dead behind her, his shadows still ravaging his body. Slit throats, broken necks on all the other males that laid dead at his feet. But his mate was looking at him.

Azriel took a step towards her, watching her carefully as she weakly wrapped an arm around her sister's body while her eyes never left his. And he knew the mating bond had just snapped for her, could see the realization in her eyes. 

"N-no," she stammered out, her voice cracking. "No. Not you. Not...Not you! Anyone but you!"

Azriel could feel her dread pouring down the bond amidst the pain and terror she felt. He felt his heart crack in his chest, heard his shadows wailing as they too felt her pain and sorrow. 

But his broken heart at finding his mate and hearing that she didn't want him was not important in this moment. Not as his mate's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped to the ground.

Azriel rushed forward, scooping both his unconscious mate in his arms and her crying sister before disappearing in a whirl of screaming shadows. 

[dix0nspretty]

Knives, Bikes, and Stitches, Oh My!

Summary: Daryl is working on his motorcycle and you watch. Too bad you can't keep your focus.

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader, 1.3k words

Era: Prison (again) because he's just so yummy...

TW: Mention of blood and stitches. Maybe chronic horniness?

Y'all loved my first story and I hope this one whets your appetites just as well! I have no idea how motorcycles or vehicles of literally any kind work, so please feel free to educate me in the comments.

You put the fear of God in Daryl every time he sees you with a knife.

It’s not that you can’t use one. On the contrary, you’re a force to be reckoned with when you’re fighting. Sometimes all that can be seen of you in a fight is the shine of blood-tinged metal as you slash and stab at whatever is attacking with your twin blades. No, your knives are comfortable and at home in your grip. Maybe too comfortable.

“How many times I got to tell ya to stop eatin’ off yer damn knife?” Daryl’s rough accent sounds out in the empty courtyard. His head is bowed low as he works on his bike, not looking up as he speaks.

I’m perched on the tabletop of one of the prison’s picnic tables eating a can of peaches. Daryl, for some reason unknown to me, had elected to start taking his bike apart and putting it back together and I followed along to watch the process. I don’t know shit about vehicles, much less motorcycles, but I like spending time with the grumpy man.

“It’s fine, I’m not gonna cut myself.” I tell him as I tilt my head down to drag a slice of peach off the blade. Daryl’s eyes don’t move from the work in front of him, but I can feel him watching me. I pull the chunk into my mouth and lick the blade clean of the sticky juice.

“Told ya to cut it out.” I’m eating the canned fruit haphazardly, not paying any attention to how close I am to the edge. Daryl shakes his head. He knows it’s a matter of time before I cut my lip or tongue.

At his repeated command, I roll my eyes but pull away from the edge of my knife. I set the can of peaches down and watch him. His brown hair is getting longer now and it’s sliding down into his eyes, shielding most of his face from my watchful gaze.

“What are you doing, anyways?” I ask. I scoot myself closer to the edge of the table and peer down over his shoulder. He has one of his tools in his hand and some pieces of metal I can’t identify. It is roughly the size of my fist and cylindrical. Whatever it is, it looks important.

Daryl glances over his shoulder, feeling my curious eyes looking down. He huffs and continues his task. “Workin’.”

“No shit. Working on what?” I’m playing with my knife in my fingers, absentmindedly twisting and flipping it. Daryl looks up at me through his hair, squinting one eye against the sunlight. My breath catches in my throat, and I try to play it cool.

“Do ya really want to know or are ya jus’ bored?” He asks in his gruff voice. I don’t answer for a second. He looks so pretty. Get a grip, Y/N, I think to myself.

“Really want to know. Come on, I don’t know anything about bikes. Teach me something.” Daryl squints at me for several seconds longer and I’m convinced he’s going to send me inside to bother someone else, but he slowly starts talking.

“’M cleanin’ the carburetor.” He tilts his hand up to show me the same piece I was looking at earlier. “It’s startin’ to get clogged.”

“Oooookay. What’s that do?”

“It keeps the engine runnin’ smooth, basically. Don’t keep it clear and that can fuck up the bike, make it stall or overheat. Gotta take it apart and clean it every few months.”

Daryl lets me watch over his shoulder as he points out different parts of the carburetor and how to clean them. After a few minutes, his gruff voice starts to fade out and my mind begins to wander.

He just looks so good. His hands are greasy and dirty from all of his work today and his biceps are sweaty from the Georgia heat. He’s wearing one of his simple black shirts that already fit him so well and the sweat is only making him look more delicious. I’m watching his hands work over the small brass jets when I feel burning heat in my palm and look down.

I’d been messing with my knife the entire time and cut myself. I instinctively let go of the blade and it hits the concrete with a harsh clang. Daryl’s head lifts at the noise and he spins around right as I rush to tuck both hands behind my back. I look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar and I’m trying to hide the chocolatey evidence. Except this time, it’s blood.

Daryl’s eyes run over me for a second, then flick down to my knife as it sits on the dirty floor. He slowly bends down and picks it up. “Y/N.” He starts, a low warning in his tone.

“It’s fine! I’m fine, I just dropped it.” My voice rambles out. There’s a high, nervous note to it and I’m hoping to God he doesn’t notice.

He raises an eyebrow. “If yer fine, why’s the knife got fresh blood on it?” Fuck.

“Uhhhhh.” I look around the courtyard, trying to find an excuse. I, naturally, see nothing. “Magic?”

Daryl huffs and crosses his arms. “Let me see your hands.”

I wince. I don’t want to get in trouble, but I can feel the blood dripping off my hand, and it stings. The longer I hold off showing him the angrier he’ll get.

“Y/N. Hand, now.” Daryl’s voice leaves no room for arguments.

“Jus’, don’t be mad?” I ask. He says nothing and I sigh, then slowly move my hands back in front of me. The blood is quickly evident on my skin.

“God damn it, girl. Why can’t ya ever listen to me?” Despite his rough tone, his hands are gentle as he takes my wrist and tilts my hand, inspecting the damage. I risk a glance at my hand. There’s a slash across my entire palm and more blood than there should be. It’s going to need stitches.

“Ya need stitches.” Told you.

 Daryl looks up from my hand but doesn’t let go of my wrist. His eyes lock with mine and he gives me a warm look. There’s exasperation and concern and I don’t know what to do with it. He takes a surprisingly clean rag from his pocket and ties it around my bleeding palm, firmly but not enough to hurt.

I can’t help but be surprised by just how gentle he’s being with me. I was expecting a pop in the side of the head and a banishment to Hershel’s cell. I look up at him through my lashes, waiting for my verbal lashing. After almost a minute, I realize there is none.

“Does this mean I gotta go in now?” I try to keep the potential disappointment from my voice and don’t entirely succeed.

“Yeah, yer going to go get those stitches. Ya weren’t listenin’ anyways.” He grumbles at me. “The hell were you doin’?”

I look away from him. I do not want to explain that I was too busy being horny over him to notice that I gouged my palm open. I risk a glance at him and I’m caught by those ocean-blue eyes.

“I was watching your hands…”

Daryl pauses, then snorts. “Maybe instead of watchin’ my hands ya should’ve been watching yours. Go get your damn stitches and I’ll show ya somethin’ else.”