#not sure if my style would be what your looking for

[hoshigray]

𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐅@#𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!? | suguru getō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time you wanna do something nice for your boyfriend, how about making sure he doesn’t see the package – let alone OPEN it! – before you? Especially if it’s something with bunny ears…!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you and Geto are college sweethearts - implied that you and Geto are early 20s - lingerie + bunny outfit - oral (m! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - use of an anal toy; butt plug - backshots/doggy style + deep impact positions - impact play (spanking) - clitoral play - praise - finger sucking - cervix fucking - unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - pet names (angel, baby, bunny girl, little bunny, good girl, my love, princess, sweet baby, sweetie) - cameos: Utahime, Mei Mei, and Gojo - reader is very shy but is trying their best! - kind of freaky! Geto awakening, lmao - humor - mention of drool/spit and tears - will be proofread l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.2k (sigh..)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask!! haven't done a suguru fic in a long while so ehh, why not? && tysm for 8.8k, my loves xoxo

“…”

Oh no.

“…Well,”

I have to be dreaming…

“Needless to say, I brought your package inside, Y/n.”

THERE’S NO WAY!!!

Being an introvert can have its trivial times; you should know that. Looking back on your life, you can’t seem to say you had the drive to stand out, an expertise you regret not putting effort into. You couldn’t do it; you’ve tried but to no avail! Going out of your comfort zone is too scary, shivering or freezing on the spot whenever you’re being spoken to or fumbling with words when trying to make a point. Man, it’s so embarrassing! It sucks — you’re a grown adult, and yet you can barely get through any gathering without anxiety rattling your bones.

Some are good at talking with others or are lucky enough to be naturally blessed with a social spirit. Some people like your boyfriend, for example. 

Yes, you have a boyfriend. 

Suguru Geto, your partner, wasn’t a complete extrovert. Honestly, he’s comfortable keeping to himself if he could choose. After meeting you, he preferred dates when you visit each other’s dormitories and enjoy each other’s company. However, compared to you, his people-pleasing skills outclassed yours unquestionably. Geto knew how to talk, drawing people in with his mellow tone and inviting aura. He was good at mingling and making everyone feel comfortable around him. You were a victim to it, lured in by his charm and soft ambiance.

He was terrific, a role model to you. How he would efficiently put himself out there while you stayed close in his shadow never failed to inspire you. The way he spoke, how he listened intently to others’ concerns, and his maturity seen as a dependable figure to lean on. It’s absurd to think that such a marvelous man fell in love with you and asked to court you.

You and Geto have dated since your junior year of college; what you once thought would be a tiny crush on one of the school’s notorious heartthrobs became your first and longest-running relationship! How did that happen!? You couldn’t tell; one moment, you two were paired up for an end-of-semester project, and he managed to have you relax and talk with him daily. The next thing you know, he’s asking you to live with him in his apartment the second you finish graduation. Now, you two have been a couple for nearly half a decade. It’s unbelievable to think about.

But even with how long you two have been together, there are moments where you feel as though you weren’t doing your part. Being in a relationship is such a hurdle for an awkward person, aka you, such as going stiff whenever old friends of Suguru pop up and greet him or him inviting you along to parties only for you to stay glued to a corner in silence. You felt as though you were…boring? Dull? Deadweight!? The list goes on, and the guilt never tires you out.

And Geto – God bless him – has repeatedly expressed and assured you that you didn’t have to feel as such. His alluring purple eyes and soothing voice vouch that he doesn’t mind standing in as your sponsor and speaking for you, and you are eternally grateful to the stars above for gracing a loving and understanding boyfriend your way. Nonetheless, the stress that churns your stomach doesn’t go away. He’s always been the one to voice for you, attend to you, and look out for you. Hell, even in the bedroom, he’s doing most of the work. Again, he’s never complained nor seems to ever will, but still!

He’s done so much for you, and you want to meet him at least halfway and make him feel appreciated. So, you took matters into your own hands and decided to do something special for your man!

Here was the plan: going out and buying stuff meant talking to people, and talking meant letting strangers know about your business; merely thinking about it had you trembling a storm. So yeah, nope. You went on the Internet and found sites catering to your search. You can’t say you were the type to wear anything risqué, especially in the bedroom. So, you dialed up your two best friends, Mei Mei and Shoko, to help you find stuff that they thought would look nice for you to wear.

Luckily, they came in clutch and found something for a beginner like you! It’s not something you’d wear in public—you’d rather die—but it’s a good start when implementing new things into your lifestyle. You added the item to your cart, purchased it, and waited silently for your package to arrive. To say you were anxious about this new step of adulthood was on the nail, but you beamed with glee once you got the notification that your bundle would be delivered today!

Before then, you decided to nap and wait for the item to be delivered to your apartment door. You woke up to that once you saw the notice on your phone, yawning your way out of the shared bedroom to retrieve it.

However, what you saw as you entered the living room stopped you dead in your tracks, and your eyes widened with absolute horror.

What you should have accounted for was that today was a Thursday, meaning Geto would usually come home from work on weekdays. So, while you were snoring in the comfort of your blanket, your boyfriend was the first to see a mysterious box with your name on it at his doorstep. And to add more salt to the wound, you caught him in the act unboxing the package and inspecting its contents, and you’re too shocked to fall on your knees at what he has in his hands.

Geto sat on the living room couch, the box perched on the coffee table opened with the wrappings decorating the brown table surface. His eyes find your figure to latch onto, but yours honed on what he was inspecting. In his right hand was a black lacy top meant to be worn around a chest—the other holding onto a headband with bunny ears of velvet material. 

This is where we lay our current scene; astounded, you could only stand in place — like Geto — at the sight before you. And with every passing second, you wanted nothing but to explode into bits. Your boyfriend had found your package and opened it!

Of course, you’d be stammering your words! “W-Where did you get that!?” What a silly question; where else would he have gotten it, dumbass?

Nonetheless, the dark-haired man answers after a forced cough. “Well, umm, I saw it at the door coming from work. I brought it in and was going to let you know, but you were asleep, and I…didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Why did you open it if you knew it was mine??”

Geto raised his hands defensively, still holding onto the items. “I–I’m sorry! I thought it was something different, like the cute glass cups you liked and ordered last week. I figured I would set those up on your behalf. I had no idea it would be something…” Your feet suddenly felt heavy, watching your boyfriend scan the lace top. “Like this.”

Any attempt to fight the mini shakes of your knees was impractical, and your throat was going so dry that you were scared to swallow.

“This doesn’t seem like something you would buy; could someone have accidentally sent this with the wrong information?” He inquires with furrowed brows. “Better not be some fucked up prank or whatever.”

“N-No, it’s, I…” Fuck, this had to be the worst scenario to admit this. “….I did mean to buy it.”

Have you ever had those moments where people would look at you after saying something that you wish you hadn’t? You indeed hated those moments; they made you feel so scrutinized by the public judging you. And seeing your man’s eyes widen and his expression morphed his lips to a small “o” shape? Oh, you couldn’t breathe adequately.

“You bought,” your quivering lips worsen when his left wrist flicks with the bunny-eared headband. “This?”

Your hands come to your face, shielding yours from his as you silently squat down with the weight of your humiliation. The shakes rock your entire frame, and you can sense your tears forming. This officially was the worst day ever; out of all the dilemmas that could happen, why did it have to be the worst one of all?!? Your partner had found out about the out-of-the-norm purchase you made without you present to explain yourself first. Now he probably thinks he’s dating some freak into weird shit. Can this day get any worse!?!

You wanted to cry, hoping the floor beneath you would give way and ingest you out of this cold, cruel world. But alas, you’re still here and can hear the footsteps approaching your crouching state, and you jolt when Geto embraces you.

“Y/n,” God, why did he say your name like that? His tone was smooth like honey, and he rubbed your back as he brought you closer. “It’s okay, baby. I didn’t mean to judge you or anything; I was just curious, is all. Sorry, I opened your package without letting you know, okay?… Ahh, did I make my sweet angel cry?” Raven brows scrunched together at the view of you burrowing into his chest more. “Aww, Y/n, I’m sorry…”

Yes, you were indeed sniffling into his sweatshirt. Although, it’s not that he opened your stuff without your consent that upset you the most. You whine while moving your face, “I just…wanted to do something different.”

“Hmm?” Geto’s hand doesn’t stop rubbing your back, speaking to you in a low mode. “What’s the reason, sweetie?”

“Because, well,” you chewed the inside of your cheek as they warmed. “I just felt like I wasn’t…Like—sigh, you’ve done so much for me in this relationship, and I’m so lucky to have you as my boyfriend. But I feel like I don’t do my part as I should, you know?” Nothing is said from the other, so you continue. “I just–sniff–want you to know that I appreciate you and all you’ve done, although I didn’t know if my words would do me justice. So, I, uhh,” your thumbs find their way to fiddle with themselves. “I asked Shoko and Mei Mei for help and bought…..this to wear for you.”

Three seconds pass without saying anything, then six. At ten seconds, the silence suffocates you and probes your unease more and more. 

However, his chest’s sudden rise and fall startles you, along with his pleasant laughter. “So that’s what this is all about, huh?” Your body’s rigid compared to his lively motion. “My angel was gonna doll up for me?”

“Yeah, and you ruined it!” You fuss, your cute teary face all hot and puffy as you complain. “I just wanted to do something special for you after I finally muster up the courage to go out of my comfort zone and do something nice and…well, sexy,” you cringed internally at the final word. Yet, it was true. 

Geto hums through your explanation. “You’re always sexy to me.”

“That’s not the point!” He laughs at your remark, the sound filling you with warmth. “I–…I’m different compared to you. Whenever we’re out, you’re so much more social than me; I feel like I’m a burden or make it seem I need you to watch over me or something…And I know you’ve said you’re okay with it and don’t mind, but it’s….sniff–I don’t know, like I’m putting more on your plate when it’s more of a ‘me’ problem…”

Your eardrums pick up low chuckles. Then, like the Prince Charming he is, Geto uses his hand to bring your chin up. Your face warms up at his handsome face in your vicinity. “Baby, although I appreciate you going out your way to do something for me—believe me, I could jump over the moon right now—you don’t have to go outside what’s comfortable to you to impress me or anything.”

“But I—“

“I mean it; I really don’t mind that I have to be some voucher for you. It’s not a burden; that’s just who you are. And if that’s the case, you’re too cute as hell the way you are.” You didn’t see his small smile grow because your eyes bashfully averted away from his gaze. “Now, if you want to build your confidence, don’t be afraid to ask me for help, okay? No need to force yourself to change up for the sake of ‘appeasing’ me or feel as though you’re not fitting whatever bullshit mold of an appropriate partner you’re expected to be.”

“Suguru…”

“Y/n,” your name pierces your heart like an arrow as his hand prompts your face back to him; God, he’s so dreamy. “I like you no matter what. You’re my princess; your troubles are my troubles. I’d tell you long ago that you’re bothersome if it wasn’t. But you’re not, so don’t put too much weight on yourself. Promise not to stress yourself over this, okay?” He boops your nose, “Remember: communication is key, right?”

Once again, you’re reminded how lucky you are to have such a man like Suguru Geto to court you. So understanding and attentive to your feelings and wrapping you in his blanket of love constantly makes it hard not to fall in love all over again. Chewing your bottom lip doesn’t even help the heat of your cheeks creeping onto your ears. 

“You’re right,” you almost melt under his lips as he kisses your forehead. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” your heart skips a beat. “But what are we gonna do with all this?” He points to the open package with his chin. “Now I feel kinda bad for having you buy this for me and ruining the special occasion.”

Wincing at the box, you remove yourself from Geto’s embrace to inspect the contents. “Honestly, looking at them in real time, I regret buying them. I’ll return them tomorrow or Monday, seeing I don’t necessarily need—”

“Woah, woah,” you stop in your tracks at your boyfriend’s exclamation. “Why are you returning them?” 

Huh? “Well, I mean, there’s no need for them, no? It was meant to be a surprise.”

“Yeah, but you already spent so much money for my sake. Plus,” Geto picks up the bunny ear headband from the package. “If this is what you were gonna wear for me, then it would be kind of upsetting if I didn’t see you wear it at least once.”

Oh, God, no. “S–Suguru, it’s totally fine; I can just—“ Oh no, he’s looking at you with that face, his eyebrows slightly trenched with a minuscule sad glint in his expression. Your stomach was doing flips out of guilt and concern, and the formidable gets worse when he asks the following:

“Y/n,” you swallow spit thickly as the man dangles the headband around. “Would you please wear this tonight?”

The question nails you to the ground, frozen in place as it rings within your mind. You? Wearing this for tonight?! “N–No, I can’t!!”

“Why not? You bought it to be worn!”

“Yes, but t-that was before you looked through my package and didn’t give me the chance to try it on myself!” When you thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than before, the embarrassment of this predicament humbles you. “And thanks to you—“

“T-Thanks to me??”

“—I don’t wanna wear it anymore!!”

Geto raises his other hand in defense. “Okay, okay! Look, I’m sorry; it’s my bad. But, to be honest, I’m thrilled that you went out of your way to think of doing something for me out of nowhere, and as I’m looking at this outfit,” He glances at the rest of the materials in the box. “I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it.” You can’t tell if your heart is thumping from his words or because you’re about ten seconds away from combusting. “So…One night to test it out, yeah? And if you surely don’t like it, then you can ship it back tomorrow.”

He’s so good at that, using his charm and words to shade you into rational thought. You take a huge breath and exhale through stressed nostrils, and your wish to dig a hole and rot away increases. 

Of course, you bought the items to treat your boyfriend for something out of the norm; that was the entire point of the plan! But what is the use of following a plan when you’ve let your guard down, and the element of surprise backfires in a way that you had foolishly unforeseen?! There’s no way you could put that stuff on you now that you’ve been exposed. Absolutely not!

“I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it…”

And yet, Geto’s words repeat like a broken record, each time making you as timid as the last. He wants to see you wear what you had bought, so eager to marvel at his partner adorning such risqué clothing that you don’t comprehend how you put said purchase in your cart! The thought of wearing such a thing in front of your man bubbles an excitement that is borderline frightening yet new; picturing his expressions and imagining his compliments is dangerous for your brain to form a headache.

But not as dangerous as the slight friction of your inner thighs pressing close to each other.

With a stare downcast and fidgeting thumbs, you ask, “…Just for tonight?” 

And Geto assures you with a nod.

“Only for tonight.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Geto sat on the bed in silence, listening to the ticks of the bedroom clock on the wall as he waited patiently.

As you two entered the bedroom, the man found his place on the bed, a still figure in the dimly lit room. You, on the other hand, made a beeline straight towards the bathroom. “Wait here…D-Don’t peek inside!” You commanded him, your voice betraying a hint of shyness. He obeyed, settling on top of the comforter.

Minutes soon went to double digits; nervousness wasn’t something that usually struck Geto. But the more he sat on the bed and listened to your mutters behind the door–distancing the two–the more he couldn’t help but feel an itch to worry for you. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Y–Yes!” That didn’t sound convincing… “I’ll be out in just a second!”

“Okay…”

And so he waited for a minute. Which turned to two minutes…Three…..

Anticipation transitioned to unease, calling out to you once more. “Y/n?” No answer; not a good sign. The tall man gets up and strides to knock on the bathroom door. “Baby? Everything alright?” Nothing, even if he knocks on the white surface again.

CREAAAAK…!

But his frets are handled once he hears the sound of the door opening slowly. He steps back to make way for the person on the other side of the door, and lo and behold, you stand.

There are things in Geto’s life that never cease to amaze him—you being one of them. From the moment he saw you, he swore that in his life, there had never been something that looked so mesmerizing and captured his eye in an instant, and Gojo and Shoko are always sure to tease the guy for such a confession. And the time you reciprocated his feelings and accepted being his domestic other half, words could not describe the elation his poor heart couldn’t handle. 

Right now, he is experiencing those same feelings when he’s with you. His expectations were blown out of the water once you entered the plane again.

Your face was the first thing he looked to, a sheepish yet cute expression that went with the adorable white bunny ear headband you adorned at the top of your head. Your casual attire had been withdrawn to the bathroom tiles, substituted with the outfit you had been fussing about until now. Your chest harbored a black lacy negligee with intricate designs that had Geto’s purple eyes dance and trace around; the faint drapes of the gown cascaded down to your upper thighs, yet your underwear could still be seen. It matched the lacy black thong that made your boyfriend gulp thickly at how gorgeous your hips looked–not to mention the tiny bow at the top center. And to complete the look, black stockings come up your knees.

“…”

There is silence between you and him. The only sound you can use to distract yourself is the beat of your heart.

“…”

But the longer you wait for a response, the louder the rhythm. 

“…”

The lack of his voice was killing you – eating you alive – and you’re sure that you’re bound to faint if this kept going. Did I wear it wrong? Do I look weird?! Oh God, please say some— 

“Y/n”

You squeaked. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you please,” Geto takes a few steps closer, enough for his hands to come around your waist and pull you in. You almost choke on the air. “Remind me to thank Mei Mei and Shoko first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Wh–What the—What does that mean—?”

“You look amazing.” Three simple words have you still. “Like, seriously. Hold on, let me get a good look at you.” He leans around to look at the details of your sides, and your brain short circuits when he moves behind you and lifts the negligee to see the rear of your panties. What is happening… “Holy shit, this suits you so well.”

“Re…Really?”

“Really.” You can see the sincerity in his gaze as he surveys every physical thing about you. “I’m so tempted to grab my phone to take a picture.”

“Oh my God, please don’t!!” Your frightened hands grab his sweatshirt with a vigorous grip, contrasting the trembling owner. “Don’t take a picture, please!!”

“I won’t, I won’t!” the dark-haired partner assures you through a fit of laughter, his warm, slender hands finding your fists and pounding him. Again, you are frozen stiff when he kisses your temple. “Besides, I prefer not sharing something as beautiful with anyone else.”

You don’t know how many compliments you can take before spiraling into a puddle. “You really do like it.”

“I love it,” another kiss to your cheek while his hands now find purchase on your waist. Oxygen suddenly feels foreign when you’re so close to him to pick up the cologne on his clothes. “It looks so much better now that you’re wearing it. You really know how to spoil me, huh, angel.”

Was it him being spoiled right now or you? How he spoke to you had your heart racing uncontrollably since you left the bathroom. You’ve been a complete nervous wreck from the moment your friends probed you to buy this outfit up until now, and now you can honestly feel that you’re feeling a sense of glee wearing it because your boyfriend likes it so much. Regrets no longer linger in your bones, goosebumps calm down on your skin, and you hum as you return the embrace. 

That is…until you feel something pressed against you. Something….hard.

Curiosity sprinkles your pretty little head until it snaps and your hips sway to experiment. A subtle jolt rocks Geto—confirming your hypothesis.

“Su..Suguru…” You don’t know why, but the following words felt prohibited to leave your lips. “Is that—“

“Hnnm…Sorry,” he purrs abjectly. “Guess I got a little too excited.” He lifts his head from your shoulder to look at you, and your stomach churns at the sight of his stare, holding a misty, lustful glint. You don’t even mention his hands silently moving to cup your ass. “Is that too much, baby?”

Violet eyes latched with yours make you shiver, suppressing a gasp when he throws a slick rut to grind the tent of his dark sweatpants on you. “N–No!” You squeaked, feeling small when his smile got broader.

“So sweet like always,” a chaste, gentle kiss to your lips feels like clouds. He then steps back out of your arms, pulling down his sweats to reveal the erection contained by the boxer briefs. Geto sits on the edge of the bed and tilts his head. “So, will my sweet bunny girl care for me tonight?” Seeing you gawk at him, he stifles a chuckle, and it takes a good mental slap to bring you back to reality. A few seconds pass, and you finally build up the courage to walk forward and crouch between his spread legs. 

Mini prayers replay in your brain as your hand hesitantly touches the clothed shaft, the firmness of it getting stiffer and stiffer as your fingers touch thoroughly. When you’re ready, you bring the hem of his underwear down, welcoming his cock to the open air for it to intimidate you with its girth. Precum trails from the urethra, traveling down from the corona, foreskin, and underside. God, it’s been a while since you were up close and personal with this thing; its sheer size is enough to reconsider the regret you threw out minutes ago. Too late now, though.

Come on, Y/n, you use your inner thoughts to motivate you. You’re doing this for Suguru; don’t chicken out now! So, you bring your lips to meet the head of his cock, earning a hum from the man above. Blowjobs have never been your forte; again, it’s been a while since you’ve had his cock near anything outside of your lower regions. But today was different as you used your tongue to lick the lip of the cockhead, the salty flavor of his fluid teasing your tastebuds. And with the sounds of him whimpering, you begin to remember the routine as the seconds go. Your mouth takes in his tip with hollowed cheeks, and your hands grasp around the shaft before you glide up and down.

“Hahhhh, yes, sweetie,” Geto soothed, biting his lip at the display of you pleasing him with your plump lips. “Just like that…Nnngh…!” His words fuel more confidence in your motion, using this to move to the next step and take in as much of his shaft as you can. You don’t go all the way to the hilt–a task that you’re afraid will have you choking– but once you reach halfway, your head starts to bob up and down at a gradual pace. Black brows furrow at the movement; fuck, you felt so good for him. So nice and warm on his dick; he wouldn’t mind having his whole evening dedicated to this. “Fuck, my love, loosen your jaw for me…Mmmm, good girl, that’s it. Keep sucking like that.”

It’s not before long that you find the groove; albeit sucking on Geto amateurishly, he places a hand on your head, which you can only assume is that you’re doing a decent job. Saliva coats the limb busying your oral cavity, mixing with the excess come that escapes and spreads with your lips going to and fro. Your tongue goes on to flick and lap on his tip some more, evoking the hottest moans you’ve ever heard from him. And while you stroke his member, your free hand finds his scrotum and massages the pair in unison, a buck of his hips as your thumb presses down on the testicles with a curl. Your bobbing becomes frequent, a mediocre cadence that has your partner throw his head back. The veins scraping along the upper walls of your mouth are too erotic for your mind to comprehend

“Shiiiit, I can’t—Nnnmm!” He hisses before he cups your wet cheeks. “You’re doing so good, princess.”

Your eyes open and peer to the person talking above you. With a soft ‘pop,’ you release his length before placing sloppy kisses and licks. “Yew fink shoow?” You speak with a mouthful of his dick to his frenulum, humoring the dark-haired man.

“Yes, little bunny,” he teases, and you can sense the throbs between your legs getting worse after referring to you with that title. “Wait, I just remembered something…Hold on, lie on the bed for me.”

You’re gently pushed off him as Geto stands up from the bed, confused. You take your place atop the bed, and he grabs something from his sweatpants and heads into the bathroom. The sound of running water from the sink fills the silence before it’s shut off. He then returns to the bedroom holding a bottle of lube you’re familiar with in one hand, and the other with a wet, metal…fluffy…looks like a kind of—

Eyes shoot wide open when you finally register what he’s holding, and the anxiety hits you like a punch to haunt you. “Wh–W-Where did y-you get that?!”

“I saw that you left this in the box before dressing up,” no, you didn’t forget a damn thing. You deliberately avoided the very item that Geto was holding because looking at it was embarrassing enough; it would be horrifying to have this in the same room as you now! Between his thumb and forefinger was a metal butt plug–a small one, nothing too major–with what appeared to be a white fluff ball at the end. It’s meant to be worn with what you wore, but these bunny ears already trampled your dignity. Adding an anal toy to the frey might as well have you sign up for assisted suicide! “I figured we needed it to complete the look.”

“N-No! No, no, no, absolutely not!” Rejections fly out of your system. “That’s too much!”

Geto blinks. “You think so? It’s pretty small from what I’ve seen.”

You’ve seen these before!?!? “Even then, I don’t wanna—“

“Didn’t you see this with the set before you bought it?”

You almost choked on your tongue. “W-Well…Y-Yes, but,” your thumbs find themselves fidgeting, anything to distract the humiliation that overshadows your nervous state. “That doesn’t mean I wanted to…wear it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—” embarrassing as hell! A bunny tail as a butt plug!? Just kill me!! “—It’s…..It’ll look weird on me.”

Oh, how you didn’t know how much of a switch that flipped for Geto, the other quietly thought to himself before speaking again. “Y/n,” you perked at the mention of your name. “Turn around for me.” Chewing on your lips, you shook your head—you knew what he was doing. “C’mon, now, I thought you were my sweet girl.” You flatten your lips when he comes close to squeeze your cheeks. “Please? Wear this for me, my little bunny?” 

Oh, for God’s sake, this night was getting more challenging to get through with the hour. Inner dialogue can’t even bring you to a consensus, as your conscience is getting in the way of coming to a decision. On the one hand, you feel as though you’re venturing out of your comfort zone enough, wearing this flustering nightgown and these damn bunny ears. Yet, at the same time, this isn’t about you; this is all meant to be for your partner, something entirely out of the norm to make him feel special. And you being reluctant to accept his wishes is just pushing you back to square one and defeating the purpose of this entire dilemma, right? 

Your hands find your face to shield, releasing a long sigh that should have stretched to your final days. Nonetheless, you slump your arms down in defeat, and a short nod is given: “.......okay.”

Without being told again, you feebly follow Geto’s request and turn around. Your lower half is the only thing in his line of sight. Your lips can’t stop quivering in such a position, and breathing becomes arduous once you feel your boyfriend’s weight dent the mattress. You jolt when his hand comes to the top of your laced thong, bringing the material down to expose the bare skin of your ass to him. Damn it! A pillow within your proximity is brought to your face, using it to hide yourself from the world.

However, “Aww, don’t be so shy on me, baby,” Slender fingers faintly brush from your spine down to the very crevice of your bottom, making your body shudder. “Shouldn’t be hiding that pretty face from me.” The sound of your gasp, when his lubed fingers teeter around your rear entrance, ignites a flame, and now he has a thirst he’s itching to indulge with. “Shhhh, breathe, my love. Gonna go real nice and slow for you, okay?”

The pillow muffles your moans as Geto begins to push one finger inside your puckered hole slightly. The stretch of the digit is a pain you have never experienced, making you whimper like a poor babe. Your boyfriend coaxes you through it, adding more lube to ease your ass as his finger goes back and forth to prepare you. Adding another finger causes you to shake your head, and your entrance accommodates the insertions, whether you like it or not.

A full minute or more passes where your ass is played with, and Geto smoothes you with a rub of your buttcheeks as he removes his digits out of your lubed hole. “Now, time to test this out…” A sudden chill has your arch, and the cold metal of the butt plug has you clamping involuntarily, yet the raven-haired partner reminds you to relax your body while he pushes the toy inside you. It doesn’t invade with the snap of the finger; thirty seconds in, and your butthole is slowly but surely adapting to the alien plaything. And before you know it, you feel the whole thing finally be swallowed into your rear walls; you grip the pillow as your mouth releases silent cries. 

“Haaah…I-Is it in?” You lifted your head to inquire. 

“Yes, angel,” he playfully smacks your ass, and you jerk at the unexpected contact. “Damn, now you look all cute and sexy with this on.” Geto then shifts to stand on his knees before maneuvering above you, removing the pillow from beneath you so you can’t hide yourself from him any longer. And more trembles crawl all over your body when you feel his solid cock create friction on the rift of your ass. “Lift your butt a bit for me,” your hips follow his hands, guiding you upward until you meet his pelvis. “Good girl…Gonna start putting it inside, okay?”

You nod leisurely, grabbing the comforter beneath you as Geto pulls the thong to the side. It’s no surprise to see that your cunt is covered in your slick, the tip of his member queued to kiss your labia. The lascivious man hisses at the sensation, anticipation climbing up as he pushes himself unhurriedly. The same goes for you, your mouth agape with quieted shrieks when the cockhead makes it inside your vagina, gripping the sheets as he slowly pushes more of himself, every inch of his penis becoming greater and greater, inaudible babbles once the base meets your folds.

Geto allows you a couple of seconds to stabilize your breathing, starting with excruciatingly slow thrusts–so painfully slow that you can feel every dent and vein that ventures inward and outward your chasm; it’s hard for your hips not to move on their own. With every pull, your inner walls clench on the shaft as if wanting more as he leaves your warmth. And every push makes you full to the brink of tears, and your brows trenched together as your fists ball the sheets.

“Mmaahh…Nnahaah…!” The brush of your velvety channel feels good within the minute, and the insertion pain is now being replaced with pleasure. Your roll to the ceiling at the graze of your G-spot, the butt plug made your nerves more sensitive with how busy your lower half was. And once he’s warmed up enough, your companion turns up the speed of his ruts. “Taahhh, I, ohhhGod…! Sugu—Oooo!!” Did he just poke your cervix!? You sobbed out loud.

“Nnmm, holy shiiit, you feel so good, sweetie,” Geto moans, taking in the view before him. The lingerie you were wearing gave a beautiful image of your backside, his indigo orbs survey from the muscles of your back to your prompted ass. Holy hell, it was driving him crazy, watching how the flesh of your butt reverberates with the smack of his pelvis. It makes him want to go ever faster, harder. And don’t get him started on the white bunny tail butt plug; shit was too cute to resist and toy with, pulling on the item lightly and turning it around.

The action had your holes clenching simultaneously. “Shh–Shhtop, Suguuu!!” You wailed out, toes curling as he taunted your anus with light pulls and pushes. “D-Don’t do that…!”

“Heh, sorry, my bunny girl,” God, the way he was teasing you was literal hell on Earth with how he’s using your body right now. “You know I can’t help myself when it comes to you…Aiisshh! Fuhuck, you’re squeezing me so hard…Hmm? You like it when I tease you, huh, baby?”

You shook your head no in a rushed manner, the heat of your face already coursing to your ears. But then your frame jerked along with the sound of something, and it was a hand smacking on the skin of your butt.

“Now, don’t be like that,” Geto chuckles above you as you cry. The same hand he used to slap you soothes the blow. “You know you can be honest with me. At least your body is…Don’t you like being close to me like this?” You don’t reply, too busy squealing at another graze of your sensitive spots.  So, he slaps your buttocks once more. “Don’t ignore me, love.”

“—Mmmph! Ahh-hahh, I-I,” You swallow spit before choking on it. “I can’t…Hic, it’s shoh embarrassing…!”

“Aww, is the little bunny still scared?” He then bends down to your ear, a big move on his part as you swear you’re bound to shut down from the closeness. “Hmm? What’s so embarrassing?”

A sluggish pull back before Geto snaps his hips into you harshly, another jab to your cervix practically has you seeing stars. “Hoooh!! Be–Becausee!!” God, it’s so hard to think right now, the pound of your head getting harsher with the increased heat. “Y–You—Ahhaa! Youu make me…s-sound sho dirt—Eeeyahh!” 

“Oh?” He licks your ear before nibbling on the helix. “You don’t like it when I fuck you like this? Don’t like it when I whisper to your ear while you scream for me?” You shake your head no, which is extinguished once Geto stuffs your mouth with his fingers. Your tongue, played with by his fore and middle finger, has you mewling like no tomorrow. “Hmmm, that’s a funny thing to say when your pussy can’t stop twitching on me. Make it seem like you’re not embarrassed to milk my cock dry, huh, princess.” 

“Nnoohh, it’s not—hic—not like that!” A tear trickles down a hot cheek as you suck on his fingers, his thumb there unaware to wipe it. “Don’t say stuff like that…!”

“Why? Too crude for my angel’s ears?” He keeps teasing you, “Even though we’ve fucked lots of times, you still act like such a cutie.”

“Stooop,” Lord have mercy. Any more than this, and you’re bound to melt away sooner rather than later. “D-Don’t tease me…”

He can’t help it, not when you sound so cute and flustered because of him. It makes him think of an idea and straightens himself off of you. But not away from you — he then grabs your leg and rests it on his shoulder while straddling the other, changing the position so you can look at each other. Something a lot more intimate as he goes back to drilling his length into your heat. With a smug grin, he asks, “Is this less embarrassing for you, sweet baby?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your throat; no, this is much worse! Your shrieks returned to erupt out of your figure as Geto’s pace increased. The new angle achieves having his dick venture deeper inside your throbbing channel, pounding to you until the hilt meets your southern lips, and the bump and grind of your clitoris with the motion is enough to have you winded. “—Ohoohh!! Dooahh! N-Nooo, d-don’t look…!” You try to shield your face with your forearm.

Yet Geto instantly refutes that, using his free hand to move it while he bends back down; his added weight has you whining aloud. “Don’t do that,” he groans at the contract of your walls, retaliating with more rough plunges. “No more hiding from me; I wanna see that pretty face always.”

“Suguu, pleasee—Nnnn!” Scrapes to the walls of your vaginal walls are even more dangerous in this position. “T’oo faaast!!”

“Hnngh! FFfuckin’ shit…But you feel so good,” Geto presses his forehead onto yours. “You feel so good, you look so good, like holy fuck! You drive me too crazy; it’s–Ghhh!- just not right how you can make me go wild. I wanna see it all, wanna see how cute you look, how dirty you look, and how fucking hot you sound because of me—and only me.” A kiss to your nose before placing one on the corner of your lips. “Starting now, I wanna see all these sides of you, so don’t hide them from me…” 

You are given no room to reply to his statements as a kiss to your mouth finally seals the deal for tonight. Light pecks gradually dwell into steamy, longing smooches, tongue and teeth classing for intimacy. It’s all it takes for you to sink into his touch finally and the comforter beneath you, submitting to him as he finishes you off.  

Geto then rolls his hips at an erratic cadence, and relentless hits to your cervix have you blubbering helplessly into his lips. Ungovernable throbs around his girth are ineluctable, the climb of your orgasm climbing up tenfold with the brush of your clit up against his pelvis. OhhhGod! It’s coming, I’m gonna—“Mmmmph!”

The peak of your crescendo has you moaning deep into the kiss, your writhing figure submitted to the end of your session as your cunt flutters around Get’s girth as the shocks of the climax rock your entire body. And your contraction is all your partner needs to let go of the reins and cease to his own release, his pulsating shaft expelling his load deep into your palpitating vagina. The two of you continue to kiss as your bodies heave and jolt, with the last of the aftershocks coursing through your nerves. 

He breaks the kiss, the two of you gasping for air in sync. Drool slips from your lips and comes down to your chin, and Geto smiles before kissing your cheek. “Thank you for the gift,” he commends you. “Ya sure I can’t get at least one picture of you?”

You’re undoubtedly out of breath, yet your facial expression doesn’t fail to display unease. “Please…stop teasing me,” you sniffle with hooded eyes.

“Okay, my sweet bunny girl,” he chortles. “Well, at the very least, let’s go another round, ‘kay?”

“Wha—H-huh!?!?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…I will never listen to your advice ever again.”

“Wow, rude?”

“Right, like whatever happened to ’thank you’?”

As far as mornings go, this one was ultimately out of the norm. When was the last time you woke up with your body sore to the bone? Because the moment the sun’s rays peaked through the curtains and landed on your eyes, you couldn’t move a single finger or toe without feeling a sense of heaviness. Or maybe it was because you found that your tall boyfriend was still sound asleep; his slim frame was spooning you close to him. You could hear his light snore as he rested in the crook of your neck and arm to your shoulder with a strong leg between yours. 

Your face warmed up at the realization that he was so close to your proximity, and it only worsens when you realize that you both are in the nude, which rarely [if not NEVER] happens! Where’s your pajamas? At the very least, an oversized shirt and panties! 

But you couldn’t find them anywhere. All you could see was a black negligee and a white bunny-eared headband, and memories of last night finally started to swim into your brain. But the true horror was when you saw the butt plug from before down on the comforter, and it slipped past your mind not to scream and kick the item in humiliating terror while abruptly waking up your partner. WHAT THE FUUUUCK!??!?

And to add the nail to the coffin, your body didn’t look like how you left it yesterday. As you got up to head for the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and felt like you witnessed a scene from a horror movie. Your skin was covered in light bruises and bitemarks, discoloration where it’s implied there were hickeys received all around your neck, stomach, and inner thighs. You were still wearing the black knee-high stockings. However, those looked utterly different from how they looked initially; tears and holes were found all over, but most prominently, the inside of your upper thigh area.

Speechless was the word to describe your puzzlement—appalled, dumbstruck, void of thinking as your reflection showcased an entirely different person. Th-…There’s no way… That’s all you could say to yourself, but it was the way.

Once Geto left for work, it wasn’t any easier for you to work around the house. Working remotely suddenly became an obstacle, as every time your mind recalled the events that transpired the night before, you’d become too flustered to continue your work. You couldn’t even walk into your shared bedroom, too rattled to the point that you just used the guest bathroom! The notion of embarrassment was getting challenging to function today; had you known this would’ve been the effect of buying that damn outfit, you would’ve stopped yourself!

Hence, you’re now complaining to the people who probed you to purchase it in the first place. “A ‘thank you’? I could barely enter past the threshold of my own room, and you want me to thank you!?”

It was late afternoon. You were washing dishes and drying them in the kitchen while putting them aside. But you weren’t alone; your laptop sat at the kitchen island with an application running. On the screen, a window harbored two screens with different faces: one woman with brown hair appearing to smoke out her balcony, and the other with pale blue hair styling her hair to a bun. 

The brunette, Shoko, responds to your words. “Y/n, calm down; all you did was have sex in a bunny costume; nothing radioactive happened there.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like I did something radioactive!” You retorted, wiping the sponge across the wet plate concerningly fast. You pick up the headband from last night and grimace. “Damn this headband…God, I’m so sore.”

“Having sex for an hour straight will do that to a person,” a nerve is stricken when the other speaks; Mei Mei is now done styling the back of her hair with a sly smile. “Pfft, I still find it funny that you passed out.”

“It’s not funny!!” To your dismay, you only make your two best friends laugh even harder. “This is not how this is supposed to be; I don’t even recognize my own body…You saw the pictures!”

Shoko titters, “Yeah, I saw, and it looks like Geto couldn’t keep his hands off you.” She takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales the smoke. “Isn’t that a good thing, though? It means that he liked the gift and appreciated it tenfold.”

“Exactly,” Mei Mei agrees. Your complaints seem to suggest that we completed the mission of making him feel special—which was, you know, the main reason you wanted to do it in the first place.”

“Oh, he felt special, alright,” you said, placing a dry plate on the rest. Although you’d been in a constant state of indignity, what they were saying was true. The whole point of making a fool of yourself and wearing a costume was meant to be outside the norm. It’s exciting for you and Geto, and you can assume that the outcome brought a satisfying end for both parties.

…However, it would be nice if it didn’t cost you a lot of hickeys and soreness. You sighed heavily, “You’re right…I’m just happy that he enjoyed it. He even said I looked cute dressed as his little bunny.”

“I bet!! Why didn’t you take pictures!?” Shoko complains, her device coming closer to her face to emphasize her disheartened tone of voice. 

“I would rather die than have photos of that of me around,” the thought alone causes an unsettling quiver.

But Mei Mei also voices her grievances. “Ehhh, but I bet you looked so adorable~. You better take pictures the next time you do something like that!”

You could’ve sworn your neck was nearly to break when you snapped your head to look at your laptop screen. “Are you insane; what do you mean next time?” 

A silver brow rises. “Oh, be real, Y/n; you really think this is some one-and-done type thing? I bet you ten dollars that Geto would love to pull those bunny ears out again.” 

The brunette chuckles after exhaling more smoke from her pretty lips. “Aye, maybe we should find you some more outfits to wear for him. Maybe we should have you in a fox costume next.”

Your mouth drops in displeasure, but Mei Mei beats you into saying something. “Mmm, now that’s a good idea; I saw something online with cute ears and a skirt. And,” her lavender eyes narrow with a scoff. “I’m sure you’d love to wear the butt plug tail of that one too, Y/n—“

“GOODBYE!!”

You slapped your laptop screen down as your farewell to your best friends, whom you’re sure are probably laughing to themselves for witnessing your reaction. 

Your cheeks are so hot that they are in discomfort; unbelievable. A next time!? You couldn’t comprehend the possibility that you’d be wearing something like last night again. Could you even look at bunny ears the same again after what just happened?! Bunny tails, too; what you primitively thought was cute and pure has now been tarnished to a suggestive and erogenous image. No, there’s unquestionably no way you would be put into that position ever again. No, no, nope, and no!!

DING-DONG!!

The sudden noise of the doorbell diminishes your reluctant energy within milliseconds. You checked the kitchen clock — Geto should be coming home right about now, but why would he be ringing the bell? Inquisitiveness draws up to your shoulders as you dry your hands, taking light steps to the door and opening it after unlocking. 

You leave a small opening to peak through, “Y-Yes?”

“Is that the lovely Y/n I’m seeing~?”

That voice…Not Geto’s, but familiarity sparks up, and recognition prompts you to open the door wider. 

Pure snowy white hair is the first thing that captures your attention, along with the dark shades concealing its owners’ eyes—a signature look of your partner’s friend, “Sa–Satoru?”

“Aye, you remembered to call me by my first time that time!” The named man was dressed down in his work attire, his hand holding his black blazer while he brought his sunglasses up for his azure eyes to throw a wink at you. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“It has!” Your perplexity was evident in your tone; you had forgotten just how tall the man was. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was finally able to catch your boy-toy here before ditching me at work,” Gojo brings your boyfriend into view with the tug of his collar, the raven-haired man expressing nothing but total irritation. “Dude owes me dinner, and I heard someone is cooking a nice meal tonight! Have room for another person?”

“Who said you were invited?” Geto questions his best friend after getting out of his hold.

“I did!” The white-haired man answers. “You owe me for saving your ass yesterday with that file scare—you’re welcome, by the way,” he ignores the glare of his friend. “And just be glad I’m asking for a home-cooked meal, or else I’d be draining your pockets at that new steak place that opened up recently.” 

“Unbelievable…” Geto sighs exasperately. “Hurry up and get in.”

You move out of the way so the men can enter your abode. “Excuse my intrusion~,” the blue-eyed man says as he takes off his dress shoes in the foyer and happily walks to the living room. 

Your boyfriend shakes his head, “Sorry ‘bout this, baby.”

“It’s okay; I was done washing dishes anyway.”

“Mmm,” he brings you in for a hug, part of the routine when he returns home. “How’re you feeling now?” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I feel…okay, still sore, but, you know…” He smelt so good, his cologne pleasantly sinking you in. 

“Heh, sorry,” he kisses your temple. “I had a good time; you really spoiled me.”

The heat in your cheeks ventures to your ears and nape, and your heart returns to racing at an irregular dance. The memories of last night all come back to haunt you once more; images of you being bent into different positions and crying out for Geto hit you one after the other. The lewd thoughts are too much for your pretty little head, especially when you imagine the tall, dark-headed man all sweaty and panting above you with a grin on his face like last night.

At this point, your face will need an ice pack because it’s getting hot. “I’m..really glad you liked it.”

“Loved it,” he takes your hand and after removing his shoes. “Can’t wait to try it again next time.”

And with those last two words, the world suddenly fell to a standstill. You didn’t hear what you just heard—no, you didn’t. “N-Next time?” You repeat.

“Of course!” he leads you down the hall to the open space. What, you thought you’d spend all that money on me for just one night?” No, I HOPED so! “Besides, I was looking online during my break at work, and I saw this fox variant look that I think would look real good on you—”

You couldn’t believe your ears; not only did Mei Mei prove you wrong, but now you have to deal with your boyfriend’s interest in wanting to indulge more in this idea you’ve brought into the relationship. What you thought and hoped would be for one night is now bound to haunt you for many days to come, and that thought in itself had you shaking in your slippers.

As well as the fact that you now owe your best friend cash for jinxing this situation. Damn her!

“Yo, Suguru.”

You perk up when you hear Gojo’s voice as you two enter the kitchen area. And just when you thought this world couldn’t chew and spit you out enough, the image of the white-haired man standing beside the kitchen island holding something in his hand mortifies you to the core.

“What’s with the bunny ear headband? I thought Easter went and passed already.” 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by alp (ringoya) + dividers by @/cafekitsune.

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x you #suguru x reader #suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fic

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act I, Scene I: The Silent Agreement)

Ever since that night, you and Spencer had always been at odds, but there was one thing you both agreed on.

Part warning: just two idiots bickering nonstop Words: 1,6k A/n: so nervous about starting this but welcome to the first part! It's a short introduction though I'm trying to make longer chapters in the future

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Hate was too strong of a word, too intense and dramatic for the subtler, more nuanced disdain you felt toward him. It was more like a persistent itch you couldn’t scratch, a pebble in your shoe, or a fly that wouldn’t leave you alone.

You didn’t hate him. You didn’t even dislike him all the time. But there were moments when you wanted to shake him, or yank his tie hard enough to shut his smart mouth. Because every time he started throwing around statistics and facts, he made it sound like you couldn’t possibly understand, as if you weren’t on the same intellectual level as him.

And right now was one of those times you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

“You’re wrong,” you argued, not breaking eye contact as you leaned across the cluttered map with pins and photos of various crime scenes. “The Unsub doesn’t fit the profile of someone who strikes randomly. Look at the pattern, the meticulous planning in each location—it’s obvious they selected victims based on specific criteria, not opportunity.”

Spencer scoffed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The victims have nothing in common. Different ages, different backgrounds, different cities. How do you explain the randomness of the victims if it was planned?”

“It’s the chaos that’s planned, the seeming randomness, each victim is at a pivotal point. The Unsub is not just killing; they’re sending a message through the timing.”

“A message? Or is that just what you want to see?”

You frowned, not liking the condescending tone in his voice. “Reid, not everything has to fit into your neat little boxes of logic. Sometimes, you have to look beyond the obvious.”

“You mean baseless assumptions?”

“How about intuition?” you snapped back. “How about pattern recognition that isn’t immediately visible but becomes clear when you consider the psychological aspects?”

“You mean your hunches?

You gritted your teeth. “It’s not about my hunches. It’s about understanding the Unsub’s mind. They’re choosing victims who are at turning points in their lives for a reason. Maybe it’s symbolic, maybe it’s personal."

“Or maybe you’re just reading too much into this.”

Your frustration bubbled over. You knew if he weren’t talking to you, he might actually agree—No, he would definitely agree. You had enough experience working with him to understand his analytical style and to know that he valued well-reasoned arguments. Yet now it felt like he was purposely dismissing your perspective.

He wasn’t being fair.

“You know what? Sometimes I think you’d argue with a freaking wall if it meant you could prove a point.” To me at least. "Not everything is a textbook case, and not every answer is in your precious statistics.”

You saw him raise an eyebrow. “And you’d dismiss all logical analysis if it meant you could rely solely on intuition. How is that any more valid?”

“It’s not about relying solely on intuition,” you defended. “It’s about seeing the connections, the human behavior that your statistics can’t always explain.”

“But you’re assigning meaning where there might be none.” He gave you a pointed look. “Not only is that dangerous, you’re being reckless.”

Red. You were seeing red. Your retort was on the tip of your tongue when a sharp clearing of a throat suddenly interrupted. You both turned to see Hotch standing at the corner of the room.

"Let's redirect this energy towards something productive," Hotch interrupted, you could almost feel the weight of his stare. "Both of your insights are pointless if you keep arguing like this.”

“I wasn’t arguing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, you weren’t.”

Your boss sighed, the kind of deep, exasperated sigh that seemed to pull the oxygen out of the room. “Just... work together. Please.”

The plea was simple, filled with the tiredness of having had this conversation more times than anyone cared to count. He then turned to leave and the room suddenly felt too big, the silence too loud.

You glanced over at Spencer the same time his eyes fell on you. But before either of you could say anthing, the door jerked open, and you watched as Derek sauntered into the room.

“Did you two fight again? Because Hotch asked me to babysit you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Those were his exact words?”

“Of course not, he asked me you needed supervision because you can’t stop sniping at each other.”

“Supervision,” you muttered under your breath, the word sounding ridiculous because it was the last thing you needed. “We don’t need supervision.”

“Exactly. What you both need is a babysitter.”

“We’re also not kids.”

Derek chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “Could’ve fooled me. Given how loud you were, I half-expected someone to start throwing toys.”

Spencer was quick to defend himself. “We were having a professional disagreement.”

“A professional disagreement?” Derek mocked, pretending to be deep in thought. “That’s what they’re calling it these days?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Yes, Morgan, some of us prefer to call it that instead of ‘arguing like toddlers’.”

The grin spreading across his face was so annoying that you wondered whether you should’ve put your frustration on him instead. Derek pushed himself off the doorframe and walkes over to Spencer, casually draping an arm around his shoulders.

“Alright, Pretty Boy, let’s hear your side of this professional disagreement.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably under his arm but managed to maintain his composure. “We were discussing the Unsub’s choice of victims. I believe the randomness is genuine, while someone,” he glanced pointedly at you, “Thinks there’s a pattern.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “What pattern?”

You stepped forward, determined to explain. “Look at the victims’ timelines. They were all at critical junctures—new jobs, big moves, major life changes. The Unsub isn’t picking them randomly; they’re choosing people going through something significant.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully, removing his arm from Spencer’s shoulders. “Alright, I see where you’re coming from. And you, Reid, think it’s just a coincidence?”

“I think the Unsub might be targeting randomly to avoid detection. Patterns can be dangerous for them.”

You sighed. “Can we at least agree to look at both possibilities? If we cross-reference the victims’ life changes with significant dates in the Unsub’s background, we might find a connection.”

You held his gaze as he studied you. You were right, you both knew you were, but you could tell admitting he was wrong was the last thing he wanted to do. There was a tense silence as he considered your suggestion, his eyes flicking between the evidence board and you.

Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. We can analyze both angles and see if there’s any overlap.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Derek chimed in with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment. “You know, you could’ve gotten more work done if you two still got along.”

Derek’s words hit harder than you expected, a bittersweet reminder of a time when things were simpler. He was right, of course. There was a time when you and Spencer were more than just colleagues locked in constant debate. You were friends—good friends, even. You could almost hear the echoes of shared laughter that had once come so easily.

You remembered late nights at the office, the two of you working over case files and tossing ideas back and forth. Back then, your debates had been lively, yes, but never tinged with the frustration and competition that seemed to color your interactions now.

And to make matters worse, Derek suddenly voiced out the question neither of you dared to ask out loud.

“You guys used to be inseparable,” he mused, glancing at the two of you with an amused smile. “Wonder where it went wrong.”

You knew he was joking, but his words carried an uncomfortable truth that you couldn’t ignore. You could also tell it affected Spencer because his eyes met yours silently.

You both were thinking the same thing. You were sure of it, because everything had changed after that night, that one night you wished to forget. That one night when you thought your friendship would change for the better, but instead, it turned into a moment of clarity, a freaking slap to the face.

The change was immediate, like the abrupt silence that follows a sudden, jarring noise. What had once been effortless and natural now felt forced and awkward. The distance between you grew. The ease with which you once communicated had been replaced by a strained formality, as if both of you were trying too hard to pretend that nothing had changed.

It was as if you had made a silent pact to never speak of that night, an unspoken agreement to bury it deep and carry on as best you could. Both of you were too proud, too scared to address the elephant in the room.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. The weight of the unspoken words pressed heavily on your chest, and sure, it seemed childish to harbor such disdain at your big age, but you couldn’t help it. It wasn't just the loss of a friendship that stung; it was the betrayal of knowing someone so close could cause you such pain.

Because Spencer Reid had hurt you deeply that night, so much so that a small, spiteful part of you wanted to hurt him too.

#much ado about nothing #gifwriting #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction

[grapejuicestyless]

Happier

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is not happy, despite the smile etched into her face, and nobody can see that, nobody but Harry, who can’t seem to express his concern in a gentle way.

“You look happier.”

What am I supposed to say to that? Thank you? I don’t mean to be mean when nobody meant any harm, but it feels so casually cruel for someone to pick up on the way I’ve changed and mistake my spiraling for happiness.

I don’t know the true shape of my face. My cheeks were round most of my life, meant to be kneaded between the fingers of my working class grandmother while she baked in the kitchen, but more recently the skin has fallen from the bone and what was once rolled between wrinkled fingers is tighter to my face as it strangles me from the inside out.

I don’t recognize myself either. Maybe I never did, because even when I search for the girl I once was, I can never seem to find her. I remember running around as a child with my best friend, the grass stains on my jeans and the holes in my sweater from tug of war’s in his backyard. She was happy, even if she looked tired. She was the happiest I’d ever been, but she was so young. She hadn’t found herself yet and maybe that’s what made life so good, the ignorance of the real world and how it would shape her.

Maybe the real me is the person who reaches out to her friends when she misses them, or maybe its the girl who counted down the days to her seventeenth birthday so she could finally relate to the lyrics of Dancing Queen and mean it finally. But maybe it’s the girl who sits in bed staring at the ceiling wondering why she never made it where everyone else was going. Maybe it’s the girl who wished her mother cared just a little bit more to stop comparing her to her “smarter” friends when she was twelve.

So maybe I do look happy, maybe I am happy. Maybe I have never felt happy before and maybe that’s why I feel so conflicted about if I truly am or if I am just projecting it out to seem that way.

“Harry.”

I call into the darkness, wandering the house party in a sweaty costume sticky with splashes of beer on the fabric, only half of the costume I came with.

The hallway is long and winding, but it always feels that way when I’m not exactly sure if I’m going in the right direction.

“Harry?” I call out again, spotting the other half of my costume.

“Y/n.” He smiles with a sigh, like even though the smoke between his fingers is taking off the edge, I’ve just calmed the entire air surrounding him. For me, it’s the same feeling. When he’s near, everything seems to slow down for a moment. After about the thousandth comment on how much better I looked from some friends of friends, he disappeared, and maybe that’s why their integrating looks bother me so much, because theres no hand to hold onto to distract me from myself.

I slide against the wall to sit with him, my eyes finding purchase on the same cracks across the thin hallway as he did, and the warm blunt being lazily passed from his fingers to mine.

“I think you’re rubbing all your glitter onto my pants.” he breathes out casually into the comfortable silence. I feel the tension in my shoulders expand before fading.

“I think it’s in my eyes too.”

“Just when I thought they couldn’t shine any brighter.” Harry lifts his hand to hook his index finger around my chin, smiling like an idiot when he sees my lips curl comfortably around the joint.

“Well, maybe I feel better than usual. It’s finally reflecting back to you.”

I joke, feeling sick as I recall the conversation from before. I look happier, as if to suggest that before I was miserable, and even if they weren’t wrong about that, the fact that anyone could read that without a second glance scared me. How a stranger could read me before I could.

“Well, you look like shit if you do.”

“Ouch, that obvious?”

“If I counted each time you rolled your eyes when someone told you that whole speech about how good you look, I’d run out of fingers.”

Harry laughs as he takes back the weed to finish it off. I’ve already drank more than him, so the sway in my body becomes more noticeable as the burn sears down my throat.

“It’s just so…wrong. I mean, I guess I feel okay, but do I really look good enough for all this praise?” I ask quietly into the night, my knees pressing against my chest as I hug my calves tightly between my sweaty palms.

“I think you’re very pretty, Y/n. You are pretty. But your face is changing and no amount of glitter can cover that up.” He tells me honestly, rubbing out the dying end onto his knee and sighing at the burn.

“If you still believe that then I haven’t used enough glitter.” I try to joke, to brush away the rising bile in my throat and tension in the air.

“You can fool anyone else, but I know you. Even if you’re not who you once were, I still know you because I love you.”

“Well you shouldn’t. I’m a leech. I’ll fucking suck up all the joy from your life until you’re too exhausted to leave.” I smiled at the ground drunkenly, head hung low and my eyes heavy.

“But I do. You’re my best friend and it’s pathetic how you let yourself far so low.” Harry flicks out the end of the blunt, watching the ashes fall the floor and stain the carpet lining the thin hallway.

“I came to you for comfort, you know. Not to get drilled in a bunny costume.” I roll my eyes, the haze clearing at his bitter remarks.

“Well tough luck, I guess. You look like shit for a girl who everyone here thinks is so happy.” Harry looks at me, his hand moving to wipe away the glitter by my eye.

“I need air.” I stand up, almost stumbling against the faint curling of the carpet at the edges. It’s new and that’s how you can tell, it hasn’t fully sunken into the floor, and it’s such a shame that it’s forever stuck with the glitter from my costume and the ashes of Harry’s joint.

“You need help.”

I stop, and there’s a beat that passes.

“You’re a real asshole when you’re high, you know. I have my own shit, I don’t need to be taking yours too.” I smile at him, but only because he was smiling at me.

“Maybe I am.” He responds plainly, and when he looks the other way, I feel heavier than before, more picked apart than before, more vulnerable than before.

Theres a thousand eyes on my back just waiting for me to crack, like the chip in my tooth from how hard I’m smiling while talking to strangers about my hopeless life. And they all say I look happier.

“But y/n,” Harry calls out for me, and for a moment I believe he might apologize.

“You look happy.”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry x reader #harrystyles #harry styles

[withleeknow]

for the requests — i'll send two songs that i've liked for quite a while and you can choose the member that you see who fits the vibe?

sand by dove cameron

and

make you mine by madison beer

conversations with strangers.

pairing: seungmin x gn!reader genre/warnings: exes to ??, non-idol au (i wrote this with seungmin in mind as a celebrity/singer or musician of some sort so it's pretty vague and it's not explicitly mentioned what he actually does, so if you wanna imagine him as an idol it still fits the narrative. i can't tell you what to do lol), Angst™️! (i think. i liked this at first but then i was looking at it so much that i became desensitized to it and idk if it's that sad anymore lol); the ending is a little ambiguous maybe?, mentions of drinking, mentions of sex, could've been more edited word count: 2.9k note: this might be one of my favorite things that i've written lately but i am also in my fish freshly dropped on land era so i am fully prepared for this to flop like ass lol bye

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I saw the end when we began You couldn't love the way I can I tried to bargain with the stars For more than half of your heart But you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand And I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand

Sand - Dove Cameron

"Why did you call me?"

"Why did you come?"

There isn't a good answer to his question, so you choose to ignore it in favor of keeping your eyes on the road, your fingers holding tightly onto the steering wheel. You don't know what to tell him. You yourself aren't even sure why you came to that bar, why Seungmin is sitting in your passenger seat right now just because he was drunk and he wouldn't let anyone take him home but you.

"I asked you first," you say. It takes an effort to keep your voice even, an effort not to look over at him.

"Don't know," he sounds like he couldn't care less, but that's always been Seungmin for you. "Old habits die hard, I guess. You were the only one I used to call."

You round a corner without even having to look at the GPS. The route to his place is still ingrained in your brain even after all this time. On some nights when you feel too stuffy indoors, you would go on a walk by yourself. Directionless for an hour or two, you just want to feel the wind wrap around your body and solid ground beneath your feet.

On these same nights, you would find yourself at Seungmin's door.

It's always unintentional, the way your feet would carry you to his home without your permission.

"Used to," you reiterate. "Past tense. You don't get to call me anymore. I'm not your chauffeur."

You feel his eyes on the side of your face. Then his voice, ever so calm and collected, "You came anyway, didn't you?"

His words irritate you for some reason, even though he means nothing bad. No malice in his voice; he's just simply stating a fact. You did come when he called, and perhaps the person that you're really annoyed with is only yourself, because why did you come?

He should be a stranger to you by now, and yet, you're here.

Maybe you know the answer. Maybe it's not a hard question at all.

You let the both of you wallow in silence for the rest of the drive. When you pull up to Seungmin's building about ten minutes later, you finally turn to cast your gaze upon him with your eyebrow slightly raised, a polite Get out if there ever was one.

Instead of taking the hint like a normal person and going on his merry way, he just stares at you with his big eyes and his hair still styled to perfection even after a night of celebrating and drinking. Seungmin loves to be difficult, this you can't ever forget.

"Well?" you press. "You're home."

He blinks, then swallows thickly. He looks around your car for a few seconds, unsure of himself. If he wasn't intoxicated, you would think he's trying to stall.

"I... I can't go up by myself," he says.

"Are you serious?"

He just nods, something expectant in his gaze.

"You're a grown man."

"Help me up." He doesn't sound all too drunk, but maybe he's just got a way of masking it because Seungmin would never outright ask for help. He's stubborn, and he thinks it makes him look weak. Incapable.

In the end, you give in to his request. You let him lean on you in the elevator on the way up to his floor, the scent of his cologne still overpowering the bourbon he had all night and it makes you just a little nostalgic.

At his door, you hold onto his waist and look away when he punches in the passcode. The door unlocks and this should be it for the two of you, your unexpected reunion should be ending the moment Seungmin crosses over to the other side of the threshold, but he just turns around and looks at you, his body against the frame of the door this time.

"There, you're home safely," you say. "I've done my part. Goodnight."

"Come in."

"Why?"

"I'm tired. Come in." And with that, Seungmin retreats into the apartment, leaving the door open for you to follow without any further explanation at all. For a moment, you stand there by yourself, not really sure of what to do. You hear him shuffling inside, before the sound of his body plopping onto the couch carries over to your ears.

What business do you have here? What business did you have with Seungmin in the first place today?

And yet, you find yourself trailing inside, closing the door behind you until the lock clicks into place. Maybe you're curious to see what the place looks like since the last time that you were here. The two of you never lived together - you weren't foolish enough to agree even though he did ask - but you were over often enough to consider this your second home.

Not much has changed. It's still the same minimalist four walls that you were used to. Same light gray paint, same black couch. Same framed signature of his favorite baseball player and same tiny crack in the decorative bowl on the coffee table. There's a photo on the credenza lying face down seemingly on purpose, but you don't say anything about it.

"What am I doing here?" you ask.

"Why did you come?" he shoots you the question for the second time tonight.

You blink at him. He only stares back.

"Why did you call me?" you repeat. "Why did you really call me?"

Questions thrown out but no answers received, like you're both running in circles, with neither of you knowing why you're even running in the first place.

Seungmin purses his lips before he stands up, the suddenness of the movement leaves him unsteady on his feet, makes him hold onto the couch's armrest for support. "Do you want some water?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Okay."

"Give me a second. Have a seat."

You watch as he pads into the kitchen a little wobbly, then returns a few minutes later with two glasses of water. He sits back down on the couch next to you, some distance dividing the two of you. He takes a sip, you do the same.

"Called you because I missed you," he says, casually admitting it like he was merely discussing the weather. The place hasn't changed, but maybe he has.

The last time you spoke to Seungmin was about six months ago, when he dropped off your things two weeks after you broke up. You haven't had any contact since, and that's exactly the way it should be for you and him now. You went your separate ways and that was it. A mutual agreement that hurts, but it was mutual nonetheless. For the past half a year, all he's been to you is a stranger. You know why it had to happen. You agreed to it.

But, just because you haven't talked, doesn't mean that you haven't thought of him. You wish he only crossed your mind in passing, wish your brain only conjured up the image of him whenever you saw something that he would like, or whenever you caught a glimpse of him on the TV or radio. In reality, it's been much more pathetic. You think of him almost every day, despite your best efforts to cleanse yourself of everything that's remotely related to the name Kim Seungmin. His absence carries itself with you all the time, a hollowness that seeps into every crevice of your life.

You know he means it. Seungmin doesn't lie, least of all to you. His honesty twists inside of you like a knife. Salt, meet wound.

You have no words to offer him, no response you can think of that would make sense to say out loud so you don't say anything. The only sound that falls from your lips is his name, like a warning, a plea, a consolation all at once.

But he doesn't seem to mind. Not his sudden vulnerability, not your reluctance to entertain that split second of honesty.

"I answered your question. Now you have to answer mine," he says. "Why did you come?"

"What do you want me to tell you?"

He doesn't respond right away. Instead, he takes a moment like he's mulling it over in his head. "Thought maybe you missed me too," he says eventually, ending the sentence with a bitter chuckle. "Just a little bit."

You tongue your cheek, stall with another sip of water before you place the glass on the table. On a coaster of course, Seungmin hates cup rings on his fancy table.

You lean back to rest on the couch, staring up at his boring ceiling. There are memories of you on this very couch, ones of you lying with your head on his lap as he plays with your hair, the two of you winding down after a long day. Or ones that are far too inappropriate to bring up ever again, of nights where you were both too desperate and impatient to take it to the bedroom. Those gentle reminders are still here somewhere, tucked between the cushions perhaps.

"Sure." You hum, nodding along. "Let's go with that."

Another chuckle, humorless. Though, you think he's pleased enough with that non-answer but you're not sure. He mirrors your position, falling into the couch with a sigh. From your peripheral vision, you think he's scooched closer to you, just by a few centimeters, in the process of settling into the sofa.

"My turn," you say. "Why do you want me here?"

"What is this, 21 questions?"

You shrug simply. "You asked me to come in. I'm just curious."

When Seungmin stays silent for a beat too long, you turn your head to watch him, thinking maybe he's knocked out because of the alcohol in his system. But you find him wide awake, his eyes staring ahead, looking like he's already sober.

His face is unreadable when he says, "Wanted to see something."

"See what?"

"See if something is still there."

It's your turn to remain quiet as you process his words, and it's Seungmin who has to turn to gauge your reaction.

"And? Is anything still there?" you ask.

"I don't know, you tell me. You're the one that stayed."

"Does it matter? If I say there is?"

"Of course it does."

"What would you do about it?"

He goes still once more. You know he doesn't have an answer to your question. What would he do? What could he even do? Patch things up only for them to fall apart again in a couple months? Once upon a time, you were naive enough to think that you could find a way to make it work. You had enough blind faith to think that it would all work out in the end; that if you wanted it enough, maybe the universe would let you have this one thing.

You return your gaze to the ceiling. He's shown you his cards, maybe it's only fair that you show him some of yours too.

An uncertain inhale, then the realization that this is the only time you would be able to have an honest conversation with him about this.

"Wanna hear something funny?" you ask.

"I have a feeling you're gonna tell me anyway."

It's anything but funny, and Seungmin is certain that you're not building up to a punchline. Sure, it's a little tragic that nothing matters, but there's some freedom, some comfort in that too. You can tell him everything that's plagued your mind for the past couple hundred days or so without having to worry about the repercussions. Even though not all is said, everything is already done.

"You know, you were mine before you were anyone else's," you say. You feel his eyes on the side of your face. The silence persists, and you aren't sure if you can take it as a sign to continue, but you do so anyway because at least he's not pumping the brakes on it, right? "I used to be jealous of your life. Toward the end, I mean."

"Jealous of what?"

"I don't know. Just your life, your dream. All of it."

Seungmin blinks. "You were jealous that I got to live my dream?"

"I said I was jealous of your life, not you," you correct him. "Because you always seemed to want everything else more than you wanted me."

"You make it sound like I was the bad guy." He turns a little defensive all of a sudden, an edge in his voice when he says, "That's not true."

You still remember him well enough to know that it is.

And it's not such a terrible thing; it's simply the truth. You can't fault him for having a dream and for having enough courage to see it through, even if it means unintentionally leaving you behind in the process. You could foresee the end even from the beginning. If you wanted to blame someone, you would have to blame yourself too.

You swerve around his metaphorical walls, his make-believe suit of armor. If you'd been nervous around Seungmin tonight, then that anxiety is now chipping away brick by brick the more you internalize the fact that nothing matters anymore.

"Remember your last show before we broke up? You were so happy, I was so proud of you. You belong on stage and I never wanted to take that away from you. But then I noticed the crowd, the thousands of people out there cheering your name and I realized that I would never compare to them. Their praise meant more to you than mine, and it was only a matter of time before you outgrew me to look for bigger and better spotlights.

"I'm not saying you were wrong for any of it. I don't blame you. You were always going to outgrow me. It's sad, but it's okay. I always knew that you'd have to leave me behind at some point. It's on me too; I just fell too hard too fast for someone who could never stay. It's your dream, you can't help it. But that night... that was the nail in the coffin for me, knowing that one day, to you, I would be just one of the faces in a crowd that you can't even tell apart."

It doesn't hurt as much as you thought it would. In fact, it's even a little cathartic to pour out the words that have been sitting heavy on your chest. Although it's not until a single tear spills over that you realize your eyes have welled up somewhere along the way. You quickly wipe it away with your thumb, then you feel his hand reach for yours after a few beats.

Seungmin calls your name, and you can hear the regret in his voice. When you look at him, his eyes have softened, no longer on the defense now that you've beat him to the offense. "I'm not drunk enough to forget about this in the morning, you know," he says.

"Does it matter? What are you going to do about it in the morning?" you ask. "We're already broken up. It's not like we can go anywhere from here. But at least now you know what it was like for me."

It seems to be a common theme tonight - stretches of silence in between admissions of truth so that one of you can gauge the other's reaction, trying to assess what path would be worth it to take at this crossroad you find yourselves unable to move on from.

Then he's tugging on your hand, pulling you to him until you're in each other's orbit again. Close enough for him to wrap his arm around you. Close enough that you're weak, not that you were ever that strong to begin with. It doesn't really come as a surprise that you let him.

"I..." Seungmin starts, full of uncertainty as he tries to string together a sentence. "We could go back."

This isn't a surprise either, that you're considering his words.

"What happens when it ends again?"

You can practically taste the residual bourbon on his breath when he leans into you, his lips brushing your cheek just slightly. "Then it ends again," he says, a little pained, all too selfish. "But it'll be worth it. It's worth it to me."

"What if it's not what I want? What if it's not worth it to me?"

He pulls back, putting some distance between your faces so he could see you better, the deep brown of his eyes searching for something that you're both aware of.

"You came tonight," he murmurs, as if that in and of itself is a sufficient enough explanation. "You stayed."

Not all is said, but everything is already done.

You had chance after chance after chance to leave, to shut this down - whatever this is - but you didn't, not even once. You're still a willing participant even though you've lived through this ending before. You know he loved you, know he loves you even if the way he goes about it is selfish.

Because you do know the answer to his questions. It's clear as day; anyone can see it from a mile away.

When your world eventually comes crashing down again some time from now, you won't blame Seungmin. You won't blame yourself either, despite having option to walk away from all of this right now.

Because maybe some pains are worth enduring twice, aren't they?

Why did you come? Why did you stay?

Is anything still there?

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.06.2024]

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #seungmin angst #seungmin fic #seungmin scenarios #seungmin x reader #seungmin imagines #seungmin x you #stray kids #kim seungmin #seungmin #skz

[waldau]

Saw your are open for requests, since you write wonwoo soooo soooo well, maybe a little drabble or headcanon about reader and wonwoo first time sleeping (not having sex, just purely fluff cuddle and sleep) together would be good in this rainy season here in my tropical country.

Btw SEATED for the longer fics😁

cuddles — jeon wonwoo | 1,450 words | fluff

TROPICAL COUNTRY ANON MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES I STILL HOPE IT'S RAINING WHERE YOU ARE. i love the rains and i'm sorry i didn't get inspired in time to write something that i like, but i really hope you see this!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is a bit unsettled by the sound of thunder (not actually self-projection for once).

“do you have to go?” wonwoo asks as you search for the remote to pause the movie, credits rolling on the screen.

you stare at him, trying to come up with a response. more specifically, you’re wondering if he’s implying what you think he’s implying. “i mean…isn’t it late? and don’t i always leave around this time?”

“you do,” he says, leaning over you to take out the remote that’s wedged between two cushions, and you swear your heart skips a beat. “but you could change that.”

“are you…asking…”

“it’s raining, too,” he says, a hopeful smile on his face. “if you really want to leave, i can drop you home, but i think i’d really like it if you…stayed.”

and that’s how you find yourself by wonwoo’s side in his bathroom, holding a spare toothbrush he handed you as he brushes his teeth. you’re vaguely aware that toothpaste is dripping down your brush and onto your hand as you watch him through the mirror, while also considering the fact that is way too domestic to be doing with someone you’ve been dating for two months.

but you can’t stop thinking about how…soft he looks. his hair is wept back from his forehead, no longer neatly styled like it had been earlier in the day, but still making him look very handsome. he’s wearing an oversized hoodie with sweatpants. you can’t help but wonder what you’ll look like, wearing it.

the thought immediately flusters you so much that you look anywhere but at him, and yet you can see him glance at you through the mirror now.

“want to tell me what you were thinking about?”

you refuse to grace his question with an answer and hurry up with your routine, skin feeling a bit cooler when you’re done washing your face. you pat it dry with the towel wonwoo’s given you, and when you turn around, there’s a shirt and a pair of sweatpants sitting on the counter.

even though it’s just basic decency, making sure you don’t go to sleep in your jeans tonight, it’s still thrilling to see his clothes being perfectly oversized on you. you step out of the bathroom a bit nervously, not having heard any sound from him in the past minute. but wonwoo’s lying on the bed, looking at his phone. when he sees you, there’s a smile on his face. he rolls to his side and watches you shut the door and come over to where he’s resting.

“what is it?” you ask, a little self-conscious. you’re not yet used to the — for lack of a better word — adoring gazes he gives you whenever he sees you. he’s verbal with his affection, too, always letting you know how good he thinks you look, or how happy he is that you’re spending your time with him, but he’s even better with his actions. which is what makes you think this is one of those moments.

“nothing,” he says, putting his phone on the stand.

“then why were you looking at me like that?” you ask, sitting down on the bed and swinging your legs over so that you’re comfortably settled.

“you just…you look really good in my clothes.”

it takes everything in you not to turn and hide your face in the pillow at that. you’re still not used to how blunt he is, and how he means every word he says to you. you’d known this about him before you started dating him, but now that you’re actually dating him, you’re getting to see a side of him you didn’t know existed.

“yeah? maybe i should wear your hoodie, then,” you tease instead.

“i hope you do,” he says, putting his glasses away and getting under the covers, motioning for you to do the same. you swear your brain has short-circuited as you get underneath the covers as well. his covers are as warm as the ones you have at home, and you remember he mentioned he runs cold. same as you, then.

you lie there for a minute or two, getting used to each other’s proximity, before wonwoo speaks up.

“tell me if this is okay,” he says, before inching closer and resting a large hand on your stomach. you can feel your breath catch as his hand inches its way around your waist and pulls you a bit closer. “sweetheart?”

“mhm? i’m fine.” you are fine, but your poor heart isn’t.

“good. i don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to.”

as much as you appreciate how respectful he’s being, part of you wishes he was a bit less cautious. you’re okay with him. you trust him, and he knows it.

“i’m not made of glass, wonwoo,” you say, looking up at him from where you’re resting.

wonwoo takes in a breath and then pulls you into himself, letting your head rest on his chest. it’s only then that you realize his heart is beating fast, probably as fast as yours.

“wonwoo?”

“mm?”

“are you nervous right now?”

“how couldn’t i be? i have such a pretty person in my arms.”

you actually gasp and smack his chest at that. he only laughs — that deep, rumble-like laugh that made you like him so much. “aren’t we supposed to be sleeping? trying to, at least?”

“i’m finding it hard to sleep with you here.”

“…oh,” you say, happiness deflating a bit. “see, i told you—”

“no!” he exclaims, scrambling away enough to look you in the eyes. “i meant— i want to keep talking to you, but i also want to sleep, and it’s unlucky that we can’t do both at the same time.”

your heart flutters at that. “that’s…i wish we could do that, too.”

“good,” he says, settling back down. “then that’s what we’re going to do.” he adjusts the covers so that you’re resting comfortably. you do want to keep the conversation going, but wonwoo is perfectly warm, and the rain outside sounds like pleasant white noise that is lulling you deeper into tiredness.

“do you like the rain?” you ask, hand resting on his chest, gently tracing abstract patterns. like the ones you doodle when you’re on phone calls with him.

when he doesn’t reply for a while, you think you’ve spoken too softly, but then you feel the rumble in his chest as he speaks. “i do. i love how green it gets outside. and i love how it smells, too.”

you want to say the same, but a sudden boom of thunder makes you freeze and grip his hoodie rather tightly.

“sweetheart?” wonwoo asks instantly, concern palpable in his voice. “are you okay?”

“it’s nothing,” you say, but even you know it’s a lie when you don’t let go of the death grip you have on his hoodie.

it’s not even lightning. it’s somewhat of a stupid thing to be afraid of, yet you can’t help but feel helpless when the thunder booms again, louder than it did the first time.

“is it…the thunder? the sound of it? i promise i won’t judge you, sweetheart.”

you sigh. “it’s just…i’m not very fond of thunder. i don’t like how loud it gets. i’m not scared, really, i just don’t like the way it…”

“startles you?”

you nod, not wanting to look at him. you wonder what he’s thinking.

“that’s perfectly fine,” wonwoo says, voice soft as he pulls you closer into himself till his arms engulf your upper body and you’re surrounded only by him and his calm breathing, his warmth that’s currently your anchor. “i used to be scared of dogs because i got bitten once. but i’ve got seol now. you’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

you have. wonwoo’s shown you pictures of his dog back home, and she’s the most adorable thing you’ve seen.

“you’re not any weaker for not liking thunderstorms, you know. everyone has their thing. don’t worry about it when you’re with me. i can’t make it go away, but i can make sure you’re not too scared, okay?”

“are you always this romantic?”

you can feel more than hear wonwoo’s chuckle as it rumbles through his chest. you’ve never felt as safe as you do now, in a thunderstorm. you burrow yourself more into his hold, loving how his arm comes to wrap around your waist.

“sleep well,” he says.

“i—” love you, you want to say, but the words catch in your throat. you mean them with your entirety, even if they might be a bit premature. “you too. i’m so glad i’m here,” you say instead, leaning up to peck his cheek.

wonwoo kisses your head, arm tightening around you. “i’m so glad you’re here, too.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

#holiday helped me so good i wrote three fics in three days already #wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #fluff #established relationship #domestic au #waldau writes #req

[hometoursandotherstuff]

When a home has been on the market too long, the realtor will suggest removing it for a while. If buyers see that it's been on too long, they'll realize something's wrong with it. BUT, some realtors will have it say "off the market," yet keep the listing, "just in case," I guess. Then what's the point? This castle is currently "off the market." 2007 build in Beaver Dam, WI, 4bds, 4ba, $977K.

So, let's see what's going on. Two castle-like front doors. Cement floors, tinted and sealed.

Interesting entrance hall has two arched doorways, and looking up you can see a curved balcony and what appears to be a mezzanine. Not sure how castle-like the wall colors are.

It has an open floorplan with some niches and little windows in the stair railing.

To the left they have a dining table set up.

And, to the right is the large kitchen. Above is a balcony. Not a fan of the kitchen, I don't care for the wall color, there's no backsplash to break it up, and the cabinets and counters aren't my style.

There's a guest powder room.

And, a laundry room.

At the top of the stairs, there's a cool little turret.

It's unclear why this is the only photo of the living room.

Up on the mezzanine they've got a sizeable home office with a fireplace. I think that this space may have originally been for a family room or den.

I like the halls to the bedrooms, but I don't care for their color scheme.

The primary bedroom has a fireplace, sitting area, and walk-in closet. On the other side of the bed wall is the en-suite.

Bedroom #2 is spacious and also has a sitting area.

Bd. #3 is a good size and that must be an en-suite back there on the right.

Off the hallway there's a shower room with a barrage of multi-directional shower heads.

This could be bd #4 that they're using as an exercise space b/c it looks out at the roof top deck.

It's a large private deck with cool walls. You could yell at your friends from up here, as they approach. Who goes there? Or something like that.

I like the walls in the basement. Two pool tables.

And, a nook for pinball machines if the new owner would like.

Love the approach to the castle. Look at those trees and the winding road.

I think that this could be so cool with the right decor and colors, but it will take a lot of paint &/or wallpaper.

There are stairs so that you can go up the higher roof, too.

https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/W6902-Prospect-Rd_Beaver-Dam_WI_53916_M87607-08667

#castle houses #unique homes #unusual homes #architecture #houses #house tours #home tour

[melodic-haze]

Hmm i just had a thought about the recent fic w Arlecchino

What if she had a muzzle on w bunny suit🧐

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Breeding, size kink, reader has a cock/strap referred to as such

☆ — NOTES: I'm ngl it's been several Arle fics now that idk which one you were on ab but it's okay gwenchana. Anyway you lot really want to breed her huh (same though)

Good luck convincing Arlecchino to wear a bunny suit actually HAHAHA

She'd do anything for you, really she will!!!! She's so dedicated to you—worshipping you in the same way a diety was meant to be worshipped—that it's actually scary for the both of you, how much of a hold you have on her. But she has some reservations about such a risqué bit of clothing 💀

Not like you blame her though, considering how it wasn't usually her style. Lucky for you, however, YOU get special treatment :3 all it takes is one look at the outfit, one look at her and some time and voila!!! She'll concede—hell, she might even surprise you :3

"You're.. you're sure, right? I know you were kinda against it at first—I feel bad if I ended up forcing you into something you-- mm."

A finger was on your lips, the gesture's message quite clear as your beloved spoke amidst your commanded silence, "I'm sure, yes. I admit I am.. apprehensive, but your longing gaze is more than enough to convince me to, ah.. experiment."

"Really..?"

"Yes. You do not take me for my word?"

"No, I do! It's just..." You huffed out a sigh as you gently took the hand on your lip and took it in your own, "I just don't want you to feel as if you were obligated to entertain my every whim."

You see her eyes soften at your concern and she squeezes your hand as a form of reassurance from your often-so-stoic lover, "You should know better than to believe I would ever compromise my own comfort for something like this."

"And besides," she continues, "surprisingly, I've come to enjoy being.. well, your prey of sorts. Perhaps the outfit may elevate the interest to another level, hm?"

You couldn't help but stare at her, boldness practically radiating off of your lover despite the position you both know she truly holds within the privacy of your bedroom walls. Such boldness prompted an imagined flash of images in your mind—blackened hands all tied up, drool escaping her lips within confining barriers, tears escaping as sinful noises of wet skin-to-skin impact echo along with her moans—and you feel something akin to a hot flash within your core.

Ever so observant, her eyes go half-lidded as she looks up at you, her grin a touch sharper than before, "I see that I have awakened your imagination."

"Maybe."

"You need not imagine it, my beloved." Her voice reduces itself to something of a low purr, "All you need to do is command me, and I will do whatever you wish."

"That's a dangerous promise to make."

"Coming from a dangerous woman such as I, I dare say it balances the scales."

I love dialogue lol anyway tell her to do so and she will do it ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ and next thing you know you're facing a woman much shorter than you've always known her to be, clad in such a revealing outfit and a muzzle to prevent her from biting so much. She had 'protested' against the latter at first, but you both know from the way that she so very easily accepted such a thing that she was all for the extra torture, not being able to make a mark on you (she forgets that her nails'll probably do the job for her anyway LMAO)

When she's laid out 'helplessly' on the bed as you tower over her, when you put your hand on the flat of her stomach and the both of you see the clear size difference, when you look at her and see so much anticipation and carnal lust practically glazing her eyes? Oh god the both of you KNOW you're not going out this room for a WHILE

She is COMPLETELY at your mercy—you can toy with her all you want, alternating between overstimulation and edging her with whatever is at your disposal until she can't take it anymore so she has to actually beg you to fuck her dumb and reduce all trains of thought into mush. She considers begging as below her, and yet she can't help but let out these reluctant pleas that only seem to gain a more.......willing quality with them in due time. Just make sure to torture her until her composure snaps, giving her her own sort of medicine and having her experience her very own mindbreak through overwhelming pleasure

To see this woman, who is so utterly feared to the point where crowds would part for her in fear that she would plunge her blackened hands into their chest and staining them red, cling to you and hump your cock like a bitch in heat is such a harrowing contrast.......but there is certainly that feeling of something more

Perhaps it's the fact that there was the urge to pin her down into a mating press and stuff her silly until she gets kids on her own ☺️ seeing her take all these children in at the Hearth and not having any herself.....why, for some reason you found yourself feeling like you just had to give her some children of her own. She seems to adore them, so whyever not ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

Even as dazed-out as she is, she can see something change inside you as your objective goes from fucking her silly to something a lot more feral. Doesn't necessarily help that, yk, you have her in a bunny suit. And yk how bunnies just love to breed

As much as Arlecchino had tried to tell you to slow down for a brief moment, it's as if all noise has been blocked out from your senses, save for the sounds your lover makes and the sinfully wet noises that are produced as you piston into her again and again and again and again.

You roughly pushed her down into the matress, now damp and messy from a mixture of your bodily fluids, as you made sure to bottom out inside her as quickly as you drew back—the harsh assault on her hole had hit spots within her she didn't even realise you could hit, not to mention the force of your movements being more than enough to easily stretch her out and mold her insides to fit you and only you.

It was obvious that there was no way any mercy was going to be given to her. The Harbinger could only lay there and take everything you give her like some kind of fleshlight, the 'fight' within her long gone (if she even had some left in her to begin with).

God I need to separate these bc I can't just choose one thank yew bc both are very very very VERY good

If you had a dick:

You were so utterly determined to fill her and making sure your seed takes by the end of your session. If it meant basting her insides with white-hot cum and having it all stuffed inside her to the point where it has no where to go but out by force, then you'll cum inside her over and over again until you can't anymore.

And when your hand goes to press down on her abdomen, you can see the mixture of cum inside her practically spray out at the edges. She can't take it anymore, even she says so, and yet you can't help but wonder just why is her pussy still milking you as if her life depended on it?

Because she's greedy.

Because right now, no longer was she Arlecchino—she was your very own rabbit, hungry for your potent seed.

If you're using a strap:

You know of your limitations—without anything extra such as magical means, you cannot actually have her bare your children. But whyever would you let that stop you, especially when you had benefits that more than makes up for your lack of organic appendages?

If you had the real thing then you could stuff her silly until it takes (and even beyond that), but one can easily make up for it in other qualities such as size and shape.

And really, whatever's stopping you from filling her to the brim with artificial cum instead?

The world is your oyster, and Peruere was nothing but your very own porcelain fuckdoll at this point.

I need to breed her every which way idc if I don't have a dick, if there's a will there's a way

When she realises what you're trying to do, she can't help that sudden jolt that completely overtakes her—her hips practically shoot from the bed, pushing your cock in even deeper, before you push her back down while she lets out a silent scream. By GOD the fact you want to breed her, fill her, make sure a child of YOURS growing inside her, making a mark beyond just her skin.........oh it gets her going in ways she never would've fathomed before

By the end of your VERY long and productive session, it's VERY clear you've both fucked like rabbits from the mess all over the place and the liquid practically gushing from her abused hole. After everything, you finally take off her muzzle, only for you to lead her drool-coated mouth all the way down to the base of your cock to clean it up. She doesn't even protest either, easily taking it like a good girl and making sure that she does a good job in cleaning you up and finishing you off. All you need to do is plug her up properly, feeling all the cum stuffed inside her through the small pauch of her abdomen, where her womb is 🫶

"..I had known this was a possible outcome, and yet I cannot help but be surprised by your control, or lack thereof."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as you rolled on your side, "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me! You just looked so irresistible and before I knew it I just--"

"Don't take my words as a form of reprimand, darling." You feel her hands take your own from your face, her lips finally kissing them—you—after a long time of having it muzzled, "I enjoyed it. You are already aware of my.. likes and dislikes, especially when it comes to the rougher parts of the activity. I gave you control, and you willingly seized it."

"I guess..."

"And besides," she muses with a small smile on her face, "I am.. not necessarily opposed to the thought of it."

"Of what?"

"Getting bred."

A warm flush spreads through your cheeks as you gave her a light swat, "You! You are so shameless! What happened to being polite and cryptic?!"

"Do we really need such pleasantries by this point? Seeing that you were rather determined to take me all for yourself, after all..."

"Oh my god."

A deep laugh rumbles within her, the sound so rare and precious that you'd want to keep it all to yourself, and you can't help but laugh along with her as you bask in the afterglow. When your laughter settles down, the two of you end up with your legs tangled up together as you lay there in companionable silence.

Though eventually she decides to break it, "Shall I go and run us a bath?"

"You can stand after all that? Geez, seems like I did a bad job," you joked.

Arlecchino huffed out lightly with a smile, "No, you've rendered me utterly near-useless—a feeling that I don't usually enjoy. Yet the fact that I don't seem to mind it all that much should show that you are special to me."

You feel that heat in your cheeks again at the proclamation, "Archons, and when I aim to have you all sappy like that in public you don't even dare move a muscle."

"Time and place, dear. Time and place. Now," she questions again, "shall I run us a bath? We can take care of the mess later."

You nodded, "Mm, if you don't mind then. But can we take it together?"

You see her eyes crinkle, the glow that the red crosses within them softening like a tender flame, "Of course. I shall be back in a few moments, then."

She gets up, and you pride yourself for being the reason why your lover temporarily goes off balance from a sudden tremor in her legs before collecting yourself.. and you can't help but stare at the remaining cum staining the sides of the plug and the apex of her thighs as she walks off.

She doesn't take the plug off when you go and take the bath together. Wonder why 😋

#hazy demos! #hazy explicits! #i love starting shit ☺️ sub arlecchino believers RISE UP (me and my nonexistent dick both rose up) #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #sub arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact smut #sub genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin smut #sub genshin #genshin women x reader #genshin women imagines #genshin women smut #sub genshin women

[anjelicawrites]

Board made by the amazing @zaldritzosrose. Thank you so much! It is amazing!

Paring: modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader

Synopsis: Period kink collaboration with my amazing dragon friends! Based on an ask @lady-phasma received; read the rest of the works here. Aemond sees in how much pain you are during your period, and decides to lend you a helping hand or better, fingers.

Warnings: period smut, fingering, blood, mention of blood flow, kissing, overstimulation, reader is a bit anxious and ashamed of being on their period, a tiny bit of gore (Aemond says that he has to clean his eye socket and prosthetic), a dash of possessive!Aemond.

A/N: reader is AFAB, where needed, they/them pronoun used. Reader is nondescript but Aemond has to bend a little to hug them.

You’re writhing on the black bed sheets, your naked back arches and slides on the silky material with every gentle motion of Aemond’s long fingers inside your cunt.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

You weren’t too sure when he proposed to help you deal with your period pain, you were feeling so self conscious about the flow and the mess you would, inevitably, make; now? You don’t even remember where you are, your body is a floating bundle of nerves, no pain, no thoughts, only pleasure.

Aemond had kissed you, senseless, as soon as you were back from work, cranky, in pain and tired. He had cornered you against the door by putting one bent arm over your head, while his other hand had cupped your chin to make sure you were staring at his face.

“Welcome back, ñuha ōños, my light.” He purred.

“Hi baby.” You answered, with a small voice.

You knew what he was trying to do and he wasn’t being that subtle about it, if you had to go by the erection pressed against your center.

“Long, hard day at work?”

You couldn’t look into his blazing eye, the naked need and hunger there, yet you were mesmerized.

“Yeah, my back is killing me.”

You weren’t lying. You have been on the pill for years, which had been a big help, and had pumped yourself full of pain relief, yet you didn’t feel totally comfortable.

“Let me help with that.” He growled.

“Aemond…” You whined when his hands grabbed your hips to push you as close as possible to his hard body.

“Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't lend you a hand.”

You recognized the tone: he was in full negotiation mode.

“It’s disgusting.”

“I have to clean my eye-socket and prosthetic. I call that disgusting.”

“It’s unsanitary.”

“I will wash my hands afterwards.”

“I will make a mess.”

“I love when you do that.”

“It’s not proper.”

“Aren’t you the one who taught me that ‘being proper’ is a silly society construct?”

“Aemond, it’s blood, from my vagina.”

“So? Eye-socket, remember? I am not afraid of some little blood.” He cupped your cheeks with his big hands. “Look, you’ll never know if you don’t try and I’ll stop if you tell me to. I want you to feel good.”

You felt the heath spread all over your body at the eagerness you heard in his voice: Aemond wanted to help, he had always been your protector, your sworn sword, your rock, you knew he hated when he felt like he wasn’t doing that, even when there was no enemy to fight.

“Kiss me?” You asked, needing to feel safe in his arms.

“Gods, yes.”

His arms moved to envelope your body, his back bent a little to reach you comfortably and his lips, Gods his lips, soft and warm on yours, kissing you slowly, until you parted your mouth to welcome him in.

You moaned when your tongues met, your body held upright by his only, your knees wobbling dangerously.

“Let me take you to bed and treat you like the queen you are.”

You giggled when he swooped you up and carried you bridal style, you hid your face against the side of his neck to breathe in his masculine scent and leave small kisses on the soft, alabaster skin.

With the utmost care he laid you on the silk sheets and undressed you, kissing and nibbling every patch of skin he could reach, making you laugh when he started tickling your sides and you had to threaten him, or he wouldn’t stop.

You felt self conscious when he removed your panties and you noticed that the inside of your tights were stained with blood (pill or not, the flow is always out of control).

“Are you still with me?” He asked, with a soft voice, as if he didn’t want to startle you.

“Yeah.” You hated how unsure you sounded.

“Will you show me then, ñuha ōños? Will you spread your legs for me and show me how beautiful you are?”

You couldn’t look into his eye when you, slowly, let your legs fall on the side, displaying your curls, wet with fresh blood.

“You take my breath away, dōna jorrāelagon, sweet love.” He murmured.

You dared take a peek at his face and took in his mesmerized expression, the enlarged pupil of his eye and the way he licked his lips, absentmindedly.

“Do you truly like it?” You loathed the embarrassment in your voice: you shouldn't feel the way you do!

“Yes. You’re always beautiful. Look at me.”

Slowly, feeling your whole body lit up, you let your eyes bore into Aemond’s lonely one and almost choked when you saw him lick his fingers with long laps of his pink tongue.

“You can scream and cry as much as you please, I will stop only when I know your pain is gone.”

You let your body fall on the mattress with a moan: Aemond is always a man of his word, he will drive you crazy and bend your body to his whims.

“Give me a kiss, dōna jorrāelagon.” He said, covering your body with his.

“Yes, Aemond, yes.”

His still clothed front lay on yours, the expensive cotton of his shirt was so soft against your naked breasts, his tongue was gentle in your mouth, easing you into relaxation as his long fingers slowly traveled from your knee to your center.

He leisurely followed the lines of your muscles, kneading the knots of anxiety he found along the way, teasing around your needy center until you started moving your hips, trying to catch his wandering fingers; you moaned when he, finally, spread your lips. You couldn't see them, but there were tendrils of blood and come already formed, his index finger squelched with the obscene amount of it when he slowly breached you.

You were so warm around him, warmer than ever and so responsive: you’ve never clenched this tight around him, he had to work your muscles open, slowly, gently, his lust inflamed by the needy sounds you were making.

“You’re sucking me in so eagerly, my love.” He drawled in your ear and you tried to hide your face. “None of that. Let me enjoy all of you.”

Your first orgasm hit you unexpectedly, fueled by his gentle movements and the hungry expression on his beautiful face.

“Aemond…” You begged, when he didn’t stop fucking you, he simply slowed down to help you ride the high.

“Shhh, shhh, ñuha ōños, one is not enough. I know what you need.”

Slowly, one by one, his middle and ring finger entered you, to crook in a come hither motion that had your hips jump off the mattress when he started massaging your G spot intensely, precisely, with one goal in his wicked mind.

Your body writhed under his, your hands grabbed at his arms to scratch as you felt the intense burn of pleasure explode inside of you, your whole body burning with it, until you came, with a long scream.

Aemond didn't truly still inside of you, he kept massaging your walls, slowly, scissoring you, eyeing you like a hawk: he didn’t want to miss a single blessed out expression on your face, not when you were the picture of pleasure, his personal Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, and you were calling his name so sweetly, as if he was your only tether, your safe haven.

Aemond had you dance on his fingers for hours, slowing down and hurrying up, until your body was a writhing mass of nerves and tears, your blood and come had formed a puddle under your ass.

You're his masterpiece, your body his temple, your pleasure his only goal; he smiles softly when you try to say his name, but only a dis-articulated sound of pleasure slips from your tired lips.

“I'm here, I'm here.” He tells you softly.

He lets his thumb massage your puffy clit, so overused the light touch has you clench painfully around him as he lays over you.

He's still dressed, his nice shirt splotched with your blood, his slacks too uncomfortably tight for him to move without a moan of pain: not that he cares, only you and your pleasure exist, he's the mere conduit of it.

His lips find yours in a sloppy kiss, you tongue subjugated to his can barely move, his fingers so deep inside of you drive you mad, your pain all but forgotten; when his mouth lands on your breasts you keen, back barely arching to meet his ravenous mouth and teeth. Your hands slot in his hair to control his movements and he sucks harsher, leaving marks all over the soft skin. The dual sensation forces your body into overdrive; your brain is already so drunk with pleasure that you start shaking violently when Aemond's fingers pick up speed again. In vain you try to beg, you cry, your abused walls inflamed by his constant use clench so tight he can barely move or spread his fingers, his thumb brutal on your clit, fast horizontal sweeps that send shock waves up your spine.

Your eyes open wide, through the veil of tears you can see his focused expression and the hungry smile on his soft lips. Desperate you grab his biceps, your voice failing you when you try to scream the pain, and the pleasure you're feeling.

“The last one, ñuha ōños, give it to me!” He roars.

Through the turmoil you want to scream that you can't, he's ruined you, God please Aemond have mercy! No more! But your body is not yours anymore, it's his instrument to play, you’re simply along for the ride.

When pleasure explodes you arch so much you're sitting, body ravaged by the pleasure your muscles shake, your cunt clamps so tightly Aemond can't move his fingers and it's only his will that stops him from coming untouched at the sight of you coming undone, with fresh tears streaming down your cheeks.

You flop on the bed, spent, leaking obscenely when Aemond can slip his fingers out of your overused hole.

His fingers are covered in a mix of your blood and come and the mess has leaked down his palm and back of hand, almost to his wrist; when he spreads his fingers there's red tendrils adorning his digits. You have turned him into your masterpiece, a miracle he could never deem possible, marked him in a way no one ever did before and never will.

You're making distressed sounds now, so cold and lonely on the big bed and Aemond immediately grabs your spent body and sits you with your back to his front, curling protectively around you. He murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, he kisses all the soft skin he can reach: pretty, pretty and amazing you are, perfect in any way: his own, personal, miracle.

“You did so good, do you know that?”

The gentleness in his voice, the sweet tone he only uses in these circumstances, are the line that tither you back to reality, to him, your only love.

You try to say his name, to voice your needs, but your brain is too muddled and drunk on endorphins to properly work.

“Do you want to do something for me, ñuha ōños?”

Even as drunk as you are, you can feel the devilish tone and you can't help but nod: you’d do anything for him, even kill, if that meant keeping him by your side.

Aemond smiles at your eagerness, even floating in a sea of pleasure, your only goal is to make him happy, as he is you; he knows he could ask you the most heinous things, and you'd accept: but he would never do something that would harm you, mentally or physically. Not in a million years a Goddess would bestow their gaze upon a ruined thing like he is, yet you did and he will never risk losing you, or hurting you, he’d rather lose his other eye than let that happen. When he pushes you to check your limits, he does it because he knows it’s to help you better yourself, the same way you make him a better man every time you choose him over another, or tell him when he fucks up.

“Lick this mess clean, issa jorrāelagon, my love. Will you do that for me?”

You nod and babble your consent, sticking your tongue out for him, a part of you trembling in the wait.

Iron and a tangy taste hit your tongue, not a bad combination, foreign though, addictive in its novelty, to the point that Aemond has to slow you down when you choke on his fingers and you whine when he tries to have a little taste himself.

Your tongue licks fast and hungry, not leaving a particle of yourself on him until he's clean and your lips are red with your blood, only then Aemond lays you on the bed again and puts his head on your sternum, listening intently to your heartbeat slowing down.

“How are you feeling?” He asks when he feels you try to adjust your position.

“I’ve never been better.” Your hand flies to his mouth. “Don't say a word. Not one.”

As one would expect, Aemond says something intelligible against your palm.

“Why are you still dressed? Oh my God!” You shriek when you see the mess: he looks like a serial killer!

Aemond simply shrugs his shoulders and throws the shirt on the floor: he has another ten in his wardrobe, he can afford losing one.

“Oh God Aemond I am so sorry!”

You can't curl on your side because he's keeping you pinned against the mattress, but you can cover your face with your hands, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“None of that!” Aemond's hands are strong in yours as he forces you to look at him. “I have enjoyed every second of it!”

He silences your objections with a sound kiss and by tickling you until you squirm and laugh under him: you make him so happy just by existing, he wouldn't want anyone else in his life but you.

“Aemond?” You ask, alarmed, when he moves down your body until his face is hovering your drenched pussy.

“Since you were so ravenous, I need to have a little taste.” He smirks at your whine. “Just a quick one, and you need a clean you up, let’s call it me repaying your favor.”

His hands grab your tights and pull them on his shoulders, opening you up to his hungry gaze: just a quick taste and he’ll let you sleep. This is just your first day, he has a whole week to eat you out until you're all he tastes.

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess, @xcharlottmikaelsonx, @qweencrimson

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader

[brainrot-of-a-thot]

Hi love!!! Just saw your fluff post and I completely get it 😭. I’ll be on a fic reading spree and they’ll be 1 fluff out of 20 smut and Tumblr is more known for smut fics in most fandoms so finding fluff is kinda hard sometimes. If it’s alright, can I request Umemiya, Togame, Choji, Sakura, and Suo (if that’s too many characters than just Umemiya and Togame are fine!!) with an adhd reader?? And how they’d be like in a relationship with her?? Sometimes it’s hard to imagine my fictional faves being able to love someone like me so pls go all out on the fluff 😭🙏🏼.

- ⭐️

adhd no justsu: numbnut style [hajime u., choji t., jo t.]

they love your hyper, bubbly, and forgetful lil’ self.

a/n: okay nonnie yes!! I believe I got a similar request about adhd!reader awhile back (I’m so sorry it got lost in the flood) and I fell in love with it! as someone who also has adhd it warms my heart to imagine the boys loving me despite it ;w;

note: title is inspired by a conversation I had with @hell-hoound a bit ago (babes I cackled when you said this I just—)

c/w: fem!reader, adhd!reader, fluff, adhd symptoms (dissociation, hyperfocus, forgetfulness, disorganization, bouncing thoughts, chattering, anxiety, allusions to masking, impulsivity.) just boys loving you for you babes~

↳ hajime umemiya.

↳ the first thing that stuck out the most to umemiya was just how disorganized you were. it wasn’t something he ever pointed out, just something he mentally noted. in general, your book bag was always stuffed full — of course, there were things in there that you needed, but other things that umemiya was pretty sure you wouldn’t need yet you insisted you would at some point; sketchpads that you never really pulled out, unsharpened pencils shoved into the very bottom of your bag, even some erasers that seemed to have been plucked out of the ends of pencils sometimes rolled out when you dropped your bag. you had a pair of glasses in there that you never even touched. along with this, it seemed you always had trouble finding what you actually needed due to the disorganization within the bag.

↳ you’re a hoarder — umemiya realized that quickly. you were a bit hesitant to allow him into your room at first, and when he walked in, he understood immediately why you were hesitant; you had a closet stuffed full of clothes that umemiya had never even seen you wear, with some articles even appearing to maybe be too small for you, as if you’d worn them back in middle school. much like the contents of your book bag, there were pencils practically spilling out of multiple storage containers. nothing seemed to have a particular place within your room — random objects where stored together, even those that had no real correlation with one another; an old lava lamp sat atop a pile of rather used-looking notebooks within a small cupboard in your closet.

↳ umemiya couldn’t help but feel it reflected your personality quite well — but not in a bad way. you typically couldn’t hold on to a singular thought, and your points of interest bounced around a lot; but umemiya found that truly adorable. he’d always had a thing for girls who were a bit on the air-headed side, those who seemed to get lost in the clouds easy — they were generally always positive and optimistic, which was something that umemiya loved to surround himself with.

↳ you had apologized profusely to him for the mess; you did so with a wobbly lip and eyes that glistened ever so slightly, and in that instant umemiya couldn’t help but pull you into his arms and hug you. he didn’t mind your room being the way it was — it was part of who you were, a reflection of yourself, and in its own way, it was endearing.

↳ umemiya occasionally offers to help you organize your room — you agree exuberantly to this, and during the process, you seem to be legitimately having fun; though, it does tend to take a few hours, because it’s difficult for you to finish one section at a time. you bounce around a lot in that aspect; you’ll forget all about organizing the books on your shelf and jump over to organize your closet by color — then back to the books before zipping over to clean the junk from beneath your bed. umemiya doesn’t mind it — he just loves seeing you smiling and content whilst being yourself.

↳ umemiya finds it absolutely cute when, during the organization, you happen to find an object that had been hidden in the mess and immediately light up at the sight of it. you’d forgotten all about it, and seeing it again makes you want to interact with it. and so you do. sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for a whole hour. it puts off the progression; but umemiya doesn’t mind that at all. after all, it just means he gets to witness you like this for longer.

↳ the organization never lasts. within a week, umemiya will enter your room only to find it as disorganized as it was before the two of you had worked together to organize it. you apologize to him every time, feeling legitimately guilty because he’d spent so much time helping you; but umemiya assures you that it’s perfectly okay. because it is — he would reorganize your room with you a thousand times over.

↳ choji tomiyama.

↳ you know when you’re just chilling with someone and they start getting really excited about something so they start to vibrate, bounce, and/or become increasingly louder? essentially just stimming from excitement? and then that excitement of theirs just starts to soak into you, and before you know it you’re super excited about something that you know absolutely nothing about but you just can’t help but get excited too? yeah, that’s you and choji.

↳ this particular event is reversible.

↳ when the two of you are together you share literally one brain cell. and you use that one brain cell to love and hype the shit out of each other.

↳ hyped dates. none of that movie binging or restaurant cruising. nope, you bet your asses are going to arcades, skating rinks, laser tag, paint ball fights, amusement parks, haunted houses, etc.

↳ this is choji’s preferred style of date, but if you’re overstimulated or not really in the mood for big crowds and loud noises, choji will take you out for a night under the stars — with spray paint. the two of you will cruise from building to building decorating the walls with varying pieces of art while vibing to music and each other. choji notoriously paints large, phallic shapes in the general viewing vicinity.

↳ you never get on choji’s nerves — when your thoughts are bouncing around and you can’t keep a straight one, choji still listens to you so intently with the softest, purest look on his face. he just loves hearing your voice and getting that smallest glimpse into what spins around in your brain.

↳ the two of you have created your own language that only you guys can understand; it consist of very few words and a multitude of noises.

↳ choji completely respects your states of hyper focus. he notices the signs immediately, and the normally exuberant, vibrant, loud boy will fall silent — he will simply watch you with the most loving, awestruck smile on his face while you consume yourself with your task.

↳ choji will talk you through dissociation. not in the way where he will say things such as “it’s okay, you’re going to be okay” but with random things. the time he pissed togame off when he didn’t bring a ramune bottle back to the store to recycle it. the time he sprained his ankle while trying to climb to the top of a tree. that really cool new amusement park that just opened has tons of american-inspired food trucks, and he can’t wait to take you there. his phallic masterpiece was scrubbed off that office building. he talks about random things, and somehow, it pulls you back into reality; and he’s waiting there with a wide smile and even wider arms when you come back to yourself.

↳ jo togame.

↳ togame had initially thought of you as a shy, introverted and reserved person upon meeting you. you were never rude, or aggressive; but you didn’t talk very often, and when in conversation, you preferred to let the other person lead the direction of it. sometimes, he would catch you biting your lip (sometimes even hard) in the middle of someone’s sentence. he couldn’t help but feel that in the moments you did that, it was because you really wanted to say something.

↳ it wasn’t until a month after you’d started dating that togame realized his hunch was right — as you grew more comfortable around him, the real you began to slip out; and it became painfully obvious that for a long time, you’d been masking who you truly were.

↳ togame has plenty of experience being interrupted (thanks to choji), so the first time you did so — you had interrupted him by blurting out something about the weird bug you swore you just saw — togame wasn’t bothered by it at all; but your eyes went wide and your mouth popped open, as if you were mortified by what you’d just done.

↳ togame didn’t understand why you were so affected; but when you began apologizing profusely with tears brimming in your eyes, he realized that you must have had some pretty bad prior experiences with this. it made his heart ache. you were such a kind, gentle soul; and he was sure to tell you this, and to assure you that he didn’t mind it.

↳ of course, that didn’t stop you from trying your hardest to avoid interrupting him — and on the times that you did, you always apologized — but with time and patience, togame made you feel secure and safe enough to drop the mask.

↳ and it was such a beautiful thing to see.

↳ togame couldn’t help but liken it to watching a flower slowly bloom — and it was something that mesmerized him. he began to see every part of you — the part of you that simply couldn’t sit still, who, when walking next to him, preferred to grab his hand and play with his fingers to keep your own busy. the part of you that could talk for hours about things you were fixated on. the part of you who no longer looked ashamed when you started to stim, but rather looked comfortable in who were. that you accepted it because you knew togame accepted you and loved you.

↳ you felt safe enough to let all of you be loved by togame; and so he did love you. wholly and fully and unapologetically. everything about you was simply perfect — and he was intent on reminding you of that every day.

hey babes!! so, I am thinking about making a part 2 of this, because there are so many symptoms of adhd (so many that weren’t explored here) that I’d love to explore more!! I’m thinking maybe with kaji, sakura, and suo, but if you have any characters you’d like to see instead, let me know!!

#⭐️ #wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #jo togame x reader #hajime umemiya x reader #choji tomiyama x reader

[bambi-slxt]

Could you write something with Matt or Chris (or both!) and a chubby/not petite reader? I don't see a lot of those and would really appreciate it!

Doesn't have to be smut, it can be more in the style of your non-binary post or love languages. Thank you!

oh honey. of course i can.

chubby!reader:

✨a concept✨

a/n: i'm not petite and i never have been. this post is not intended to cause body dysmorphia to those who are, but rather promote and uplift those who have more fat on them than what's normally represented in the fanfiction space. i hope you enjoy this one anon!

doing their makeup at a sleep over -

chris: "yeah, come on, sit on my lap. no, seriously. i don't mind. come here, mamas." *kisses* "there we go. now put this shit on my face before i change my mind."

matt: "you were saying something about hooded lids? yeah, i don't think i have those. what do you mean people have different eyelid shapes. what the fuck. you have to look up different- jesus christ i'm glad i don't fuck with this stuff."

watching a scary movie -

chris: "i never shoulda' agreed to this. what spell do you have me under? i hate you. no like actually." *holding your hand for dear life and also shaking like a chihuahua*

matt: "-genuinely fucking terrifying. what? why do I have to be the one who tells you when it's over? i don't wanna look either!" *long-suffering sigh*

swimming -

chris: "i don't want you to look like a model, i want you to look like you. you look real, and you feel real...when i look at my girl all i see is how beautiful you are. no, i'm being serious. especially wearin' the stuff i bought you."

matt: "it's just us, darlin'. i've seen all of you before. i know what you look like, and i love you because of it. get in the water so we can play mermaids."

clothes shopping -

chris: "what the Actual Fuck are these designs. this is the plus size section? what a waste of space? i'll make you better clothes. yeah, i'm serious. you like my brand better anyway. jesus christ, i'm sorry."

matt: "...is this really what you want to wear? no? okay so let's leave. yeah, this isn't your style at all. i don't care, i'll shop with you all fucking week if that's what it takes. you're not gonna settle on this shit if it's not what you want."

going to the gym -

chris: "come on, you got it. i know it hurts but you're almost done, come on. don't you dare stop, there we go...there we go, you're good, you're good, get some water...that was a new PR baby, i'm so fucking proud of you. hell yeah, you did so good...damn i don't even think i can get that...fuck you..."

matt: "why the fuck would we go to the gym when the bed is right there? absolutely not. we can work out in my bed-"

streaming together -

chris: "no we're playing fortnite, get on here. i don't care. we've played fallout all week i wanna play duos, pleasepleaseplease-thankssss. yeah we can hop on stream. nah, they love you. trust. you wanna get ready first? i think you look great, but it's up to you, mamas. i want you to be confident, you know that."

matt: "if they have something to say i'll just rip 'em a new one and kiss you on stream. yeah. no i'm dead serious. there's my girl. come on, let's play."

boyfriend hoodies -

chris: "course it fits. i got bigger ones for me so you could steal them. you're such a thief. i love you. what? i didn't say anything..."

matt: "i'm gonna freeze. no no, take it, take my only source of warmth. i'm not bitter. come here lemme cuddle you i'm fucking cold."

a/n: hope you like this nonnie!

request to be on the taglist under this post right here, make sure your mentions are on!

tags: @selenascorner @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld @ariqolyx @wh0resstuff @krissy4gov @coochiedestroyer1 @madisturn @mattspolitank @sturnsxplr-25 @xtravrgnoliveoil @raysmayhem-72 @sturnpooks @certifiedstarrr @melanch0lybby @freshloveforthefit @xoxo4chrisss @stunza @meerkatzthings  @zivall @sturniolopepsi @that1fangirll @wh0schl0 @sharksworldd @mattscoquette @chrisslutx @sturnzsblog @sturniologals @quaxkingshs @certifiedstarrr @sarosfilms @mattsfavbigtitties @slutforsturniolos 

#bambi slxt #the sturniolos #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #the sturniolos fluff #sturniolo triplets fluff #the sturniolo triplets fluff #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfic fluff #matthew sturniolo fanfic fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic fluff #christopher sturniolo fanfic fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you

[flemingsfreckles]

Grandkids Part 3

Jessie Fleming (parent) fic

Read the previous parts here!

Warnings: none I don’t think

WC: 2.6k

A/N: this isn’t my favorite thing I’ve written but my motivation on this sort of tanked but I wanted to finish it out at least, I might write more Jessie parent fics in the future or just headcannons for parent Jessie if yall would be interested in that.

“Jessie, please, you can ask the boy questions but there’s no need to interrogate him. All that’ll do is upset Amelia.” You and Jessie are tidying up the kitchen so you can begin cooking dinner. The dinner that you’d be eating as you met your daughter’s boyfriend.

“It’s not interrogating, I just want to get to know him.” You nod at her as you start to pull ingredients from the fridge.

“Just be nice.” It was the least you could do, try and encourage your wife to not ask Nick hundreds of questions, you both wanted to know him but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

The doorbell rings a minute before the proposed dinner time. Not too early but also not late, you thought to yourself, good start to the evening.

“I’ll get it!” Amelia pops up from the couch practically sprinting to the door. You smile as you watch her rush down the hallway. You remember that feeling, being young and the knocking of the door and knowing it was the person who made your heart flutter on the other side. You had that feeling with Jessie, it was sweet to see your daughter experiencing the same feelings.

“I’m going to start the grill.” Jessie says to you and you hear the back door close. Her expression as she walked out the door was blank, she didn’t look upset but she also didn’t look happy, you weren’t sure what she was feeling.

You hear muffled discussions down the hall and shortly your daughter walks back into the kitchen with Nick. He’s carrying a vase with flowers and a small other bag.

“Hi!” You say to both of them, wiping your hands on the kitchen towel and abandoning the chopping you were doing to walk over.

“Mom, this is Nick. Nick, this is my Mom.” You take in the boy’s appearance. He’s taller than your daughter with blonde hair that’s neatly styled, he has on square shaped glasses. His clothes make you feel like you’re underdressed in your own home, he’s wearing a wrinkle free button down that’s tucked into a pair of dress pants. You weren’t sure what your daughter's type was, she’d gushed over celebrities of all appearances but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised by the boy’s nerdier appearance.

“It’s nice to meet you Nick.”

He sets down the bag and the vase and extends his hand to you. “It’s lovely to meet you as well.”

“Where’s Ma?” Your daughter swings her head around looking for Jessie.

“Outside starting the grill. She’ll be in in just a minute or two.”

“Okay.” Your daughter nods and the room falls into a slightly uncomfortable silence. You and Amelia look at each other, silently begging the other to say something. Thankfully you don’t have to because Nick starts talking.

“Is Riley here? I brought him some of those baseball cards you said he’s always making you take him to the store to buy.” He looks between you and Amelia.

“No, he’s at a birthday party but I’ll let him know you brought them for him when he’s back tomorrow.” Amelia says, taking the wrapped gift from Nick’s hands and placing it on the table.

You notice it’s now been about five minutes since Jessie left to get the grill started. Maybe she needed an extra set of hands. “I’m going to go check that your Ma doesn’t need help out there.”

You step outside to see Jessie standing in front of what is clearly a turned on grill, you can see the heat coming off of it.

“Hey, all good out here.?” You call to her from the top steps of the patio. You realize she must’ve been deep in thought as it takes her a moment to look away from the grill and up to you.

“Yeah, yeah it’s, on.” Her thumbs up relaying her message that the grill was in fact on and working.

“Then come inside, it’s got to heat up for a bit.”

“I don’t know if I can.” She looks to you quickly then back to the grill.

You step down off the stairs and move over to Jessie “What’s going on?”

“I’m scared.” She says, still not looking away from the grill.

It takes all of your might to hold in a chuckle. “Of a teenage boy?”

“No, well, sort of.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m scared I’ll be too harsh, or too cold, or rude, or something to him and then he’ll realize he doesn’t want to date someone with a parent like that and then he’ll break up with Amelia and then she’ll hate me because it’ll be all my fault.”

“Jessie, that’s not going to happen.”

“But what if it does? I can’t have my little girl hate me.” The wave in Jessie’s voice tells you she’s truly worried. Her previous argument with Amelia had left her on edge, she still felt like she had to win back your daughter’s affection. Amelia on the other hand had quickly forgotten the whole ordeal.

“She won’t, because you won’t cause him to break up with her. In fact I think you’ll like him.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, let’s just say your daughter picks them like her Mom.” You point to yourself. “He’s nerdy like you.”

“I’m not nerdy.”

“You are, but it’s part of what I love about you. Now come on, you can’t hide out here all day.” You softly link your fingers into hers and pull her away from the grill and up the patio stairs.

You walk back in and are grateful to see the two of them in the kitchen, Amelia sitting at a barstool at the island and Nick standing a couple feet from her. They’re smiling at each other as they make conversation. You’re not sure what Jessie would’ve done had they been sitting together on the couch. They both look over at the sound of the door opening and your daughter stands up from her stool stepping toward both of you.

“Ma, this is Nick, Nick this is my other Mom, I called her Mama when I was little but now they just both get called Mom when they’re not in the same room together.”

“Hi, it’s great to meet you, I really appreciate you having me over.” Nick extends his hand to Jessie just as he did to you. You know your wife probably death gripped his hand as she shook it.

For a minute there’s an awkward silence. The four of you all standing looking at each other. “Nick, would you like something to drink? There’s water or sodas,” you try to get some form of a conversation started up between the four of you.

“Just water would be great, thank you.” You move to get him a glass and your daughter stands up beating you to the cabinet. You move back to begin chopping again and Jessie is quickly behind you. You pick up the knife and she holds her hand out. She stares at you with her best puppy eyes impression, and you give in handing over the knife. You know she just wants a task to occupy herself so she doesn’t have to worry about making small talk.

“So Nick, Amelia said you met in your calculus class?”

“Yes Ma’am, we sat next to each other for a bit at the beginning of the semester, I missed a few days for college tours and Amelia was kind enough to lend me her notes and help me catch back up, we’ve just been studying together since then. Amelia is the smartest one in our class.”

“You don’t have to ‘Ma’am’ me Nick, makes me feel old. Where are you looking into going to school?”

“I’ve looked at a lot of places, a couple in the states, UNC, University of Washington, UCLA,” You notice how Jessie’s posture straightens at the mention of her former school. “I’ve also looked at couple here. I haven’t really made any decisions yet.”

“Jessie went to school at UCLA.”

“That’s what Amelia told me. It’s a beautiful campus, did you enjoy your time these?” Nick now directs his attention to your wife. She stops chopping and turns around.

“I did, the location is perfect, city, beach, mountains all within reach. I really loved it. Good academics too!” You can practically see Jessie’s anxiety ease as she talks with the boy. “What are you planning to study?”

“Biomedical engineering is the plan, I’m considering medical school after my bachelors.”

Jessie smiles as she begins to talk about UCLAs engineering program, the two talk, you and Amelia throwing in comments here and there. It’s not long before you all move to the dining room.

Dinner goes smoothly. You learn about Nick's siblings, he’s the middle child, with an older and younger sister. You learn his hobbies, his interests. He asks you and Jessie about your careers, about how you met. You all talk about traveling, sharing the coolest places you’ve been. It’s an easy dinner. You stand up from the meal feeling like you knew Nick well. You felt a level of ease with him, he seemed like a good kid. You just hoped Jessie felt the same.

She had been relatively quiet over dinner just adding in comments here and there, it was more like you, Nick, and Amelia were having dinner.

You start to clear the dishes as everyone finishes eating. Nick immediately offers to help but you shoot him down stating he was a guest there was no need for him to help.

“Amelia, can you help your mom clean up in the kitchen?” You watch how Jessie slightly raises her eyebrows at her daughter, indicating it was less of a question and more of a request that your daughter leave the room. At the same time you send your wife a pointed look, you don’t know what type of interrogation she has planned for Nick but you hope your stare is enough to tell her to be nice.

“Well there’s the end of my relationship.” Your daughter says as she places dishes into the sink.

“No, it’s not.”

“She’s going to tear him to pieces in there.”

“She won’t.” You keep washing the dishes and handing them to your daughter to dry. She falls quiet and the two of you finish the dishes in silence. There isn’t much noise but the clinking of dishes and the running water in the sink. That is until you hear Jessie’s voice.

“No! There’s no way you can sit here and tell me Roddick is better than Federer.”

“Oh no.” You and Amelia turn to each other.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “I didn’t mention he’s a big tennis fan for this reason.”

“Well now I’d be worried about your relationship, your Ma is a huge fan of that man, she won’t let you be with someone who prefers his rival.” You shrug at your daughter, the panic on her face makes you realize she doesn’t notice the sarcasm. “I’m kidding Amelia.”

“I’m going to ask you first, because I’m a little nervous to ask Ma, can Nick stay after dinner to watch a movie? We can watch it in the basement, or living room, whatever you both are comfortable with, you’re welcome to watch it with us too if you want.”

“I’m fine with that, you still have to get your Ma’s permission though, you can’t just only ask me because you don’t want to hear her answer.”

“Okay.” As if she knew your daughter needed to speak to her Jessie comes out from the dining room.

“I can’t believe you,” she shakes her head at Amelia, “not warning me he was a Roddick fan.” She pulls your daughter into a hug. “He’s a nice kid.”

“Can he stay and watch a movie?” You watch your daughter pull out her best begging look. It’s identical to the one Jessie gave you when she took over the chopping duties earlier in the evening.

“Not in your bedroom.” Jessie shakes her head.

“I know that, I already talked to Mom, I said in the living room or basement.”

“Living room.”

“Thank you.” Your daughter places a kiss on your wife’s cheek before doing the same to you and rushing back into the dining room. She and Nick walk out seconds later and head to the couch. You notice Jessie eying them, watching how they choose to sit. They pick a respectable distance apart, each with a blanket.

They’re in their own little world, it reminds you of you and Jessie cuddled up in hotel rooms watching movies or even cuddled up watching team film together. You were watching the start of young love, it was sweet.

“Want to sit on the patio?” You suggest to Jessie.

“And leave them alone inside?” Jessie whispers.

“They’ll be fine. They deserve a little privacy, they’re adults Jessie, plus we can see the living room from the patio, Amelia knows that.”

Jessie finally agrees and you both head outside. It’s quiet to start, you just hear the sounds of the evening. Birds, the winds, the occasional car that drives by.

“He’s a good kid.” Jessie finally says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he spoke highly of Amelia when I “interrogated” him as she’d say. He seems like he’s got a good head on his shoulders. He accepted the expectations I laid out to him. He promised me no grandchildren anytime soon. You hear him talking about his family, his ambitions, he seems like he was raised right.”

“Wow, look at you.” You take a sip of the glass you brought out. “He changed your opinion quickly.”

“I think he reminds me of myself. You were right, he’s nerdy, I was like him when I was his age. And while that’s somewhat eased my nerves, I still don’t trust him because I know how I was at his age. How we were at their age.” Jessie gives you a knowing look.

“We were all over eachother any time we could be.” You laugh thinking back to your hormonal teenage years and the early days of your relationship with Jessie.

Jessie smiles over at you. “To be fair we didn’t have parental supervision at camps, we had access to hotel rooms, and we barely got to see each other, we also didn’t have the risk of teen pregnancy. It also wasn’t my fault you always got me riled up over text and then I wasn’t able to even kiss you for months at a time. We had a lot of built up tension. At least they don’t have most of those things.” You smile as she rambles on as if she has to defend her teenage actions to you as if you weren’t the one right there with her.

You take a second to look into the living room, you notice they’re sitting closer together on the couch but you’re not about to tell Jessie. “Yeah, I think he’s a good kid.”

“We raised her right, she’s picked a good one.” Jessie comes to sit on the bench with you so now she’s facing the window into the living room. “Were they sitting that close before?” Jessie says pointing at the window where your daughter's shoulder was practically touching Nick’s now. Before you can stop her she’s standing making her way toward the door.

“Jessie, they’re fine.”

“Oh I know.” She tips her glass of water letting it spill onto the ground. “I’m just getting more water, I’m out.” She smiles at you. You shake your head, Jessie may like the boy but she was always going to be protective of her little girl.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader

[the-fiction-witch]

Water

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Tully Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1029

Jacaerys was forced through the dragon stone corridors, to met with his betrothal. He was to marry her tomorrow morning. He was... feeling both excitement and trepidation. He had dressed himself in his finest clothes and styled his hair carefully, his nerves mingling with anticipation. Arriving at the designated chamber, Jacaerys took a deep breath to steady himself before raising his hand to knock, the sound echoing softly in the corridor.

A soft voice answered his knock calling him inside.

Jacaerys makes his way into the chamber seeing the fire burning bright, the balcony to the water that surrounds Dragonstone, and most importantly a woman…

She stands by the fireplace watching the flames burn, she has long curls braided intricately for this meeting, and she has eyes that glimmer She wore a gown of deep blue and silver with embroidered waves and scales across the fabric, She turns to him and bows low her eyes on the floor "Prince Jacaerys, of house Velaryon," she greeted

Jacaerys bowed his head in respect, a small smile playing upon his lips.

"The honour is all mine, Y/n," he replied warmly, his eyes taking in the intricate details of her gown. His gaze wandered over the embroidered waves and scales, feeling a familiar sense of admiration for the sea-themed motifs. "You look absolutely lovely, if I may say so. Your gown truly embodies the beauty of the sea."

"I thought it fitting for us, yourself a velaryon. Myself a Tully. We are creatures of the water you And I. But I must admit I'm sure you prefer fire given the Targaryen half of yourself"

Jacaerys chuckled softly, the mention of his Valyrian heritage bringing a hint of a dragon's glint to his gaze. "Ah, yes, the fire in my veins does stir at times," he confessed with a wry smile. "But let me assure you, my Tully betrothed, the water runs strong in me, too. The Velaryons are a sea-faring house, and the salt is just as much a part of my blood as the dragonfire."

"I'm glad, Tully's have a long history of the waterways our castle even known as river run. I hoped water filled both our blood somewhat"

He smiled at her words, his fondness growing for her already. "Then it seems our affinity for the water will bond us further. Our union shall be a true joining of our houses, connecting the sea and the river in the most profound way," he proclaimed, his eyes shining with warmth and a flicker of something more as he gazed at her.

"I can but hope so Prince Jacaerys" she curtsied once more,

"No need for formalities, my Lady," Jacaerys replied softly, extending his hand to her. "We are soon to be married, after all. Let us enjoy these moments together without titles. Just Jacaerys will suffice."

"very well, I suppose it is foolish to have such need for formalities when we are to wed in meer hours." She chuckled "Then just Y/n I insist,"

"Y/n," he echoed gently, his voice laced with warmth. "It suits you."

He then gestured to the window, where the sea stretched out beyond the horizon. "Would you care to join me on the balcony? The fresh evening air could do us both some good." He extended his arm, offering to escort her to the open air.

"I'd be delighted Jacaerys" she nodded taking his arm and happily being escorted like a proper young lady out,

As they stepped out onto the balcony, the cool evening breeze brushed against their skin, carrying with it the salty scent of the sea. Jacaerys leaned against the rough stone of the battlements, his gaze fixed on the moonlit waves in the distance. He turned to Y/n, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile as he noticed how the moonlight seemed to dance in her hair. "Beautiful, is it not?" he said softly.

"it is truly, I admit I have never seen the coast before it is beautiful, dare I ask what is across the way?"

"That," Jacaerys said, pointing towards the moonlit horizon, "That is Essos. Beyond the Narrow Sea. Across those waters lie continents, cities and villages, cultures and people that are worlds different from Westeros." He turned to Y/n, his eyes filled with excitement. "I've always dreamt of exploring beyond the water's edge, exploring the lands our ancestors left behind. Perhaps one day we'll have the chance to see it together."

"I'd like that, I have heard tales of the distant east, of the boiling isles, or ashi, old valyeria and yeen. Such places seem impossible but I suppose I think Dragonstone seemed impossible once" She chuckled

He laughed softly at her words, his heart warmed by her curiosity. "Dragonstone is nothing more than a stepping stone for such grand adventures," he agreed, the spark of wanderlust igniting within his eyes. He reached out to gently tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering for a moment on the curve of her jaw, his touch as delicate as a feather. "The world is vast and full of wonders, Y/n, and I would be honoured to explore them with you by my side," he said in a low voice, his gaze fixed on hers. His hand, still holding her chin, gently turned her face towards the moonlit sea. "Look at the moonlight dancing on the waves. Don't you think it's as though the water is calling out to us?"

"they do seem to" she nodded "I admit I can somewhat imagine us taking to the water someday, to explore the far east, ship at our command, Vermax flying over head, it seems so perfect"

He nodded thoughtfully, the image she painted of their future adventures taking hold in his mind. "The sound of it is tantalizing, isn't it? The wind in our hair, the spray of the sea, and Vermax soaring above us, leading the way." As they stood on the balcony, he found himself imagining the possibilities. "Perhaps someday we will make that dream a reality," he added with a soft smile, his gaze fixed on the alluring expanse of black waves.

“Perhaps, someday,” she smiled as she took his hand and gave it a squeeze, he smiled back and kissed her hand softly.

#jace x reader #jace #jace velaryon #jacaerys strong #jacaerysvelaryon #jacaerystargaryen #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #hotd fanfiction #hotd fandom #hotd season 2 #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd jace #hotd jace x reader #hotd jace taryargen #jacaerys x you #hotd smut #house of targaryen #house targaryen #house of velaryon #house of the dragon #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon jace #house of the dragon jacaerys

[writingwithfolklore]

Answering your Questions/Concerns about Free Editing

Thanks for sending in your questions about my free editing service! Here are some of the ones I've gotten so far:

I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you because it’s free:

              I don’t like the assumption that I’m a pushover. Okay just kidding, I appreciate this instinct, but you’re not really taking advantage of me given I’m offering the work! I also ask you to trust me that I can set my own boundaries and let you know if the scope of the project is too much for me to take on.

              Of course, if you’d really like to give back to me in some way I always accept tips, Instagram follows, or reblogs of my editing post/recommendations to your writing friends, but none are necessary!

Okay but what do you get out of it?

              Experience—I can put ‘freelance editor’ on my resume and back it up with examples. I can also log my hours as volunteer hours which will help me get scholarships to pay for my schooling. Lastly, I hope to build strong community bonds with you all and genuinely just want to help out—I’ve been very lucky to have formal training and mentors throughout my writing career, and I hope to provide that to those of you who haven’t had the same opportunities!

Will you look at fanfiction/non-original work?

              Of course! As long as it was written by you (and not AI-generated).

How do I know you and I will click style-wise?

              I work with writers of all different styles in my regular job, so editing styles that aren’t my own is something I have a lot of experience in. If you’re really worried about it, I will let you know right off the bat if I think I would be a good editor for you or if you should try someone else.

What if you hate my work?

              I won’t tell you, and I can still do my job as an editor to improve it without tearing it apart. I believe good editors can take any piece of writing and see its values and what it’s doing well in addition to its flaws. My job is to bring out what’s already working in your piece. Essentially, I promise I won’t be mean to you or your work no matter what I think about it.

Can you help me get published?

              I can certainly help guide you through starting the process, but I’m not an agent and can’t reach out to anyone for you. However, if you’d like to send me proposals or queries to look at, I’m happy to edit those as well!

Can you help promote my work/blog?

              I’m happy to reblog or share any of your projects or writing that I’ve helped you out with, for sure!

What if my work isn’t good enough?

              No judgement here! I’m happy to look at your first draft, your final draft, and every draft in between. The whole point of editing and getting another set of eyes on your work is to improve it, so send me anything, no matter what state it’s in!

Check out the guidelines here:

#writing #creative writing #writing community #writers #screenwriting #writing inspiration #books #filmmaking #film #writing advice #free editing #free feedback #feedback #offering feedback #fanfiction #feedback needed

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XVII

Everlasting Light

Elain Archeron threaded a pearl earring into her ear and then stepped back, looking at her reflection in the mirror. 

For the wedding, she decided to go dramatic and memorable. Her dress was pale pink and cream, form-fitting, with an ostentatious flower at the shoulder. The gown (it really was more of a gown, rather than just a dress) was satin and chiffon, with delicate silk inserts and appliqué flowers. 

She kept her hair simple, in a neat chignon, and wrapped a narrow satin ribbon around her head in lieu of a hat.

It was a dress worthy of a wedding. A dress worthy of a bride. 

Only it wasn’t her wedding. And she wasn’t the bride. 

And the dress was much too expensive and glamorous for a wedding guest. There was nothing subtle about it. But for once, Elain Archeron chose not to be demure, modest and shyly elegant. No. Today, she was going to arrive in style and overshadow the bride. Today, she was going to be outlandish. 

She supposed that that’s the danger one ran into when they invited their ex to their wedding. But that was not her problem, frankly. 

Piglet arrived in her bedroom and offered his male support by barking his approval. He was looking rather spiffy himself, dressed in a proper morning suit, with a waistcoat and a pale pearl tie, to match her dress. 

He was still getting used to his new leg prosthetic, and while he didn’t like it when he was first fitted with it, now, three weeks later, he refused to go outside without it.

Elain's Dress

-

“It’s all paid for,” the veterinarian told her when Elain took Piglet for his first fitting,

“Pardon?” She was perplexed. How would anyone know about her bringing Piglet here? She hadn’t even told her sisters about it. In case the procedure didn’t work, she preferred to keep it secret before she was sure that Piglet would accept it. He was acting awfully bitey at the fitting and gave her deathly side eyes, while refusing to look at her once it was done. 

The receptionist, who was handling the financials, looked at the monitor and read out loud, 

‘Looks like…let’s see here. A Mr. Azriel Night? Paid in full. It says here…oh, well, he is your partner, Miss Archeron,’ she laughed, ‘I suppose I don’t have to tell you that.’

‘I’d prefer to pay for it myself,’ Elain argued tersely. At the mention of his name, she immediately felt the squeeze in her throat and a suffocating pressure in her chest, as she fought her tears. She was not going to burst in tears in front of this poor, well-meaning woman. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in public. 

The receptionist blushed and scrambled, muttering, ‘Miss Archeron, it would be difficult. We’d have to refund the purchase, and since Mr. Night hasn’t requested it…I’m sure I can contact him,’

Pursing her lips, Elain managed to remain visibly calm. She didn’t want to argue. Besides, Piglet was already growling at her and was about to start some shit right in the office, so she decided to handle this later, on the phone. 

She absolutely wasn’t going to take any charity or handouts from that man. Not at all. He didn’t deserve to know that he contributed to Piglet’s well-being in any manner. He didn’t. She wouldn’t allow him to. 

The problem was that it went even further than Azriel paying for the robotic prosthesis. That same week she also received a letter from Piglet’s regular vet, notifying her that Piglet’s longevity shots have been paid for in full. In perpetuity. As in, forever. That horrid, treacherous man dared to…Elain couldn’t believe it. Enraged, she rang Cassian. 

Before the man could say ‘hello’, she screamed into the phone,

‘Tell your brother to leave us alone! He is not to make attempts at helping my dog with anything. Piglet isn’t his responsibility. We don’t need him!’

‘What?’ Cassian asked dumbly. 

‘You heard me!’ She snapped at him. ‘I don’t need anything from him. Just my fee. I’m quite sure that he still owes me for setting him up.’

‘Yeah, he does,’ Cassian agreed, his tone sombre and defeated. ‘That he does.’

‘Exactly. Beyond my fee, I’m not interested in hearing anything from or about him. I hope you understand.’

‘I understand.’

‘Thanks. Bye!’

But before she could hang up, Cassian called after her and quickly asked, “and you? How are you?’’

She paused and he heard her swallow. She didn’t answer for a long time. He wasn’t even sure if she was still on the line when at last, he heard her say, ‘I’m brilliant.’

“You don’t need to say that to me,” he snapped at her. 

She scoffed, ‘I don’t owe you anything, Cass. So there is that. Tell him that I don’t need anything from him. That’s all I’m asking of you.’ 

He sighed heavily and told her, 

“Okay”.

-

It was a surprisingly nice day for early March. It was sunny and warm and wisteria began blooming all around Bloomsbury and Russell Square. 

Her father sent a car for her, so she wouldn’t have to take a taxi. At first, Elain didn’t want to bother, but after she decided on her dress, she changed her mind. Now, there was a Bentley waiting for her on the street. 

She hated that she almost greeted her father’s driver as ‘Dev’, but she stopped herself at the last moment. Piglet stopped to inspect the car, not recognising it and he also paused when he saw the new driver. He was going to give him paw, like he did with Dev, but this wasn’t Dev and Piglet waited for Elain to do something. 

“Lady Elain,” the driver greeted her as he opened the door and then looked at the pug and said, “and this is Piglet, I assume.”

“It is. Thank you,” she turned to the dog and helped him inside the vehicle. “We have a stop to make and pick up another individual.”

“Of course,” the driver said simply and then assisted her inside the car, and even picked up and loaded the train of her dress inside, arranging it on the floor, so it wouldn’t wrinkle. She told him the address and they took off. 

Elain felt detached from herself, as if she was looking at her body from the outside. She was seemingly standing behind a glass and observing her life, but it wasn’t hers. Not really. Her life should’ve been completely different right now. She should’ve been with Azriel. Loved by him. Loving him. She should’ve been going to her own wedding. She should’ve been happy.

But she wasn’t. 

Elain wasn’t happy.

As they detoured through Marylebone towards Paddington, Elain was of mind to call the whole thing off. She didn’t need to go to the wedding. She could make an excuse. It was just her, and her family would be represented just fine by Nesta and Feyre. There was no need for her to torture herself or her dog with all of this. 

But, by the time she was ready to say something to the driver, they were pulling around Radnor Mews–unbearably charming and picturesque–and she spotted a tall, statuesque man standing on the corner, looking at his phone.

The Bentley pulled to the curb and the driver got out to open the door. 

“Hey gorgeous!” the man slid inside the cabin, taking up about as much space as Azriel normally would.

Goddamn it. Enough already. Enough with Azriel!

Elain squeezed her eyes tightly, before sighing and looking at her companion.

“Fen,” she breathed.

His dark, luminous eyes skimmed over her elaborate dress, the large flower on her shoulder, and then he reached and gently drew his finger from her cheek down to her collarbone.

“My god you are beautiful,” he gawked, shaking his head. “Are you okay to do this?”

She bit her lip and then nodded. If he noticed her reluctance, he didn’t show it, but only took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together.

Fenris Beem-Moon was Elain’s first…well, everything. Her first in many ways. Her first boyfriend. Her first major crush. He took her on her first date when they were 16 years old. The first time she got drunk was with Fen and he held her hair back while she puked miserably in a pub loo. He attempted to teach her to drive, to the detriment of his own life–and failed. He was her first man–the one who took her virginity, when they went to Brighton for a long weekend. Fen was the first (and only) man, so far, to consistently provide Elain with toe-curling orgasms.

They parted ways when both went to the university. Elain–to Bristol, while Fen went to Dartmouth in the US. Nowadays, she was a matchmaker to the wealthy and the titled, and he was managing a hedge fund.

“Hey Pugnatious the Great,” Fen rubbed Piglet’s back and the pug leaned against him in a friendly way. Elain chuckled at the moniker. Fenris was one of a select few whom Piglet actually liked, and not just tolerated. He and her pug didn’t have the soul-crushing adoration like Piglet had with Azriel, but,

Here she was. AGAIN. Thinking about Azriel.

She shook her head and scoffed at her own thoughts. She was pathetic. No other word for it. Pathetic. She hated herself for constantly thinking about that asshole. For being so weak and stupid that all her thoughts revolved around an unworthy man. 

Fen looked at her, sensing her distress and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. His lips pressed to her temple and he rubbed his thumb over her bare shoulder.

“How do you want to play this?” he asked at last, once Elain stilled beneath his arm and lay her head on his shoulder. “Are we making him jealous? Should I make him eat a bag of dicks?”

She snorted at that.

“Should I fuck him up for making you sad?” he continued.

“He is big,”

Bubbling his lips, Fen chuckled, “Not as big as me, elske.”

Then he laughed quietly, “you got a type, that’s for sure! You like a big man,” 

She sighed, but did not argue. She liked them big and strong.

Then, with a scowl, he added, “though not sure where your Eris fits in. At least the Douchebag is handsome. Not as handsome as me,”

“No,” she drawled, “of course not,”

“But he is handsome enough. Eris…fuck, babe, he is a ginger!”

Laughing at his antics, Elain pushed at his chest, saying, “you are an anti-gingerite!”

“One word, babe–ginger pubes!” he announced dramatically and Elain shuddered. 

“Eww, Fen, don’t be gross,”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one nosing into ginger pubes,” he reminded her. 

“It’s two words, by the way.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he cocked his brow. “Ginger pubes are ginger pubes. Is he hung at least?

She rolled her eyes and offered a shrug. 

“So, he could be bigger,” Fenris confirmed. 

Elain knew what he was doing–he was cheering her up, saying all kinds of nonsense, so she wouldn’t have to think of what she was about to face. And for that, she was grateful.

But as they drove towards the Royal Boroughs of Kensington and Chelsea, she knew that no amount of pep talks or cheering up could change the reality of what she was about to experience. 

Many had wondered as to why Elain and Fenris did not end up together? They seemed to have had everything in common–they were childhood friends, they were both wildly attractive, both came from wealthy, illustrious families, Fenris being the son of the head of the Beem banking dynasty and a Danish Countess. What’s more, they had a fine, loving, amicable relationship. However, Fenris had a secret, to which few were privy, but Elain knew. His sexual tastes ran exotic–he was a Dom and a co-owner of a BDSM club in Soho. He was their superstar performer, along with his submissive and real-life lover Kat. Fen and Kat were soulmates, and Elain was always envious of their relationship–the love, the trust, the adoration. She was less fanatical about the caning and the fisting on stage (which she’d watched when she visited the club), but she did not judge her best mate. What’s more, contrary to popular belief, Elain was a lot less uptight and uncomfortable with sex than most people assumed. Fenris had guaranteed that. Her only problem was that she kept ending up with sexually boring men. After Fen, only Azriel came close to being as spectacular, but,

Gah!

She was thinking about him again. 

But it was curious, now that she thought about it, that Azriel basically fisted her that one time–their only real intimate time. What did it say about her? What did it say about her because she loved it?

“We can’t make him jealous,” she told Fenris quietly, hiding her face in his chest. He stroked the back of her neck, holding her close. “He is literally marrying someone else.”

“Maybe he is delirious,” Fen offered. “Like a brain inflammation,”

“Oh, is that what it is?” she huffed a sceptical sigh. 

“I mean it’s a fairly reasonable explanation as to why he’d be marrying someone else when he had you and, as you told me, he said that he loved you.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek and murmured,

“Or, maybe, he never loved me at all.”

-

Azriel Night adjusted his cufflinks and then glanced at his watch.

10:53 am.

The guests were milling about in the airy Cadogan Suite of the Old Chelsea Town Hall, enjoying cocktails and admiring the Victorian architecture of the pale grey and blue walls and the impressive marble and granite fireplace. It wasn’t exactly a huge gathering, only about twenty guests, and most of them were family anyway. And that suited him just fine. 

Old Chelsea Town Hall, London

He already felt like shit, hot and tense, his dark navy suit seemingly too tight and stifling around the shoulders. He readjusted the sleeves about thirty times and still he couldn’t get comfortable. Truthfully, Azriel didn’t need any more people witnessing the shitshow that was about to take place. 

Plopping heavily on a chair he buried his head in his hands. He was alone in the antechamber of the reception room, his eyes darting towards the door every five seconds.

“You alright?” he heard Cassian’s voice, but didn’t answer.

Was he alright? Sure didn’t feel like it.

“She’ll come,” Cassian assured him. “She will. She texted Nes earlier,”

“Even if she does show up,” Azriel interrupted him, “it won’t change anything.”

Cassian sighed and didn’t argue. Probably not. Azriel had fucked up and Cassian didn’t think that Elain was going to suddenly forgive him just like that. Or should. Or would. 

Besides, he was tasked with telling Azriel one other nugget of shit,

“Sooo…I just wanted you to know,” he began saying slowly, “that she would be coming with,”

“Who the fuck is that?!” Azriel snarled angrily and jumped to his feet. “Who is that? Who is with her?”

“Mmm, yeah, that’s what I was saying,” Cassian muttered, but before he could continue, he was stopped by the look on Azirel’s face.

The look of adoration and utter amazement. Anger too, but mostly Az looked both flabbergasted and smitten. Cassian followed his brother’s gaze and immediately whistled under his breath. 

Elain Archeron glided into the room, dressed in a spectacular satin gown, which accentuated her round curves and stunned with its haute couture details. Cassian wasn’t exactly a fashionista, but he could tell when a woman looked good. And Elain looked spectacular! This dress–pale blush pink–was decorated with bold, but delicate flowers at the bottom and on her shoulder, and he guessed that every embellishment was handmade. If ever there was a princess, Elain was most certainly one today. 

And like a true princess, she arrived exactly on time. 

And just like that, all eyes were on her. 

But she did not react. Nothing outwardly but a blase, relaxed appearance. 

What’s more, Elain was draped over one beast of a man–absolutely huge, at least 6”6–so handsome, he could only be called ‘breathtaking’. Cassian was staunchly straight and liked pussy more than he liked just about anything else, but fuck it–he’d give this bloke a go if the opportunity presented itself. The man had a perfect, unblemished, ridiculously symmetrical face, with a jaw that could cut glass, dark, almost black eyes and a leonine head of gorgeous golden hair. His form fit his face–muscular, toned, firm, but compact in a way professional athletes were. 

And speaking of professional athletes–the one next to him, his own brother, was just about vibrating with dark, pent up energy. 

“We are not brawling,” Cassian cautioned him sternly.

“Who the fuck is he?” Azriel hissed. 

“Whoever he is,” Cassian said, “he can take you,”

“Pfff,” Azriel snorted, but it wasn’t a confident snort. He realised that the blond god would make a worthy opponent if push came to shove. 

“You need to calm down,” Cassian warned. 

“If that cocksucker is fucking my wom-,”

“She is not your woman,” Cassian reminded him. 

“Fuck you, Cass.”

“Whatever.”

Meanwhile, Piglet weaved between the man’s legs and sat down at his side, while the man bent and rubbed the pug’s neck, and then fished something out of his pocket and gave it to Piglet to chew. 

“The fuck he is giving him treats!” Azriel seethed, while Cassian shook his head and said, 

“Why are you acting like some overprotective boyfriend? You left her,”

“And why is he touching her like that?” Azriel completely ignored Cassian’s words, as he watched the disgustingly good looking bloke, on whose arm Elain was literally hanging, turn and cup Elain’s face in his massive hand, his fingers on her cheek and then kiss the top of her head, right on the satin band that held her hair in place.

KISS HER HEAD!!!

“Little Piggy, you are so handsome!!” Azriel heard Feyre’s excited screeching and then, to his surprise, she greeted the blond guy, “Fen, long time no see! How are you?!”

She reached up and he kissed her cheek, but before he answered, she prattled forth, “I didn’t know you were coming today. Are you two back together?”

Back together???

“It would be so good if you got back together,” she continued, smiling breathlessly.

Elain pursed her lips and snapped, “Fey!”

“What, what?!” Feyre began to backtrack. “I am just saying.”

The man, Fen, had an amused smirk playing on his lips, his fingers still stroking Elain’s bare shoulders. 

“It’s good to see you, Feyre,” he said simply. 

“But you are,” Feyre started again, but then Elain’s attention, along with her head, turned to Azriel.

-

Unable to wait any longer, Azriel got up and walked across the room, noticing how Elain had tensed the moment he stepped out of the antechamber and made his way towards her. 

She looked indescribably beautiful today. A little sad. A little nervous, though she covered it up pretty well. But overwhelmingly, she was simply stunning. That dress…Azriel wasn’t sure what to make of it, because she looked both bridal and regal, a queen, but also a timid virgin. Where did you even get a dress like that? And how do you come to a decision which says ‘yeah, I am going to throw this on today. To a wedding. Which isn’t my own.’ He figured that it was a very Elain thing to do–to march to the beat of her own drum, wearing what she liked–but still. This was ballsy. 

The blond bloke still had his hand on her though. It was a proprietary hold–his long fingers holding her by the back of the neck. Like a lover. Like she belonged to him.

Azriel barely managed to hold back an animalistic snarl. Barely managed to hold back and not lunge at the guy and break his fingers, thus removing them from Elain’s bare flesh. 

“You came,” he said instead, balling his hands behind his back. He was almost on top of them, standing so close that he could feel the warmth of Elains body and smell her sweet, delicious jasmine perfume. He didn’t bother with any kind of preamble. He didn’t have it in him to engage in small talk or act decently. He wanted to rip the man’s arms right off and then press her to her knees on the floor and fuck her brutally on the guy’s bleeding corpse.

Elain turned to face him–her expression placid, and almost disinterested. As if he was interrupting something and she needed to give him her time and attention.

She plastered a fake smile on her face and turned fully to him. The blond man’s hand did not leave her neck. Azriel gritted his teeth. 

“Of course,” she nodded easily, a bland smirk on her lips. “I always attend these weddings–if the clients that I set up invite me, I gladly accept. Tell me, Azriel, where is Gwyn?”

He ignored her question and asked instead, “And who is your date?”

The man’s hand remained on her neck. 

“Fenris Beem-Moon,” the bloke said and extended his other hand to Azriel. 

Elain’s expression was inscrutable. She watched Azriel shake Fenris’s hand with a pained expression though he managed to contain himself. But Elain knew him well–could read all his micro expressions like an open book. She was well aware of the fact that Azriel was fuming inside, but pretended to pretend like he didn’t care. It didn’t help matters that Fenris intended on making Azriel jealous, by stroking her throat with his knuckles, before wrapping his fingers over the back of her neck. 

“And you are her date?” Azriel asked, his voice hollow.

Fen didn’t confirm or deny, but only said ‘El needed a plus one and here I am’. 

“And here you are,” Azriel echoed.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but that was cut short by a loud screeching roar that came out of Piglet once he beheld Azriel in his sight. The big brown bug eyes blinked and Piglet sized Azriel up, and determined that the proximity to Elain was too much for him to allow. With an enraged bark, he bounced on the floor, flying out of Feyre’s arms. 

It was all happening in slow motion. Everyone turned and attempted to catch him, but he deployed his full parkour moves and galloped towards Azriel with angry, hateful barks. 

Azriel didn’t know how to react, but Piglet solved the dilemma for him, when he lunged at him and sunk his sharp little teeth into Azriel’s hand.

“Awww, fuck!” Azriel cried, not knowing how to avoid the attack. Because Piglet was definitely attacking. Once he drew blood from Azriel’s palm, he latched onto his leg, biting him painfully, making him bleed yet again and Azriel noticed  blood stains on his trouser leg. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he roared, “stop it! Awww! Fuck! Stop biting me!”

Piglet didn’t let up for a second. He jumped and bit and scratched, pushing Azriel back and away from Elain. He raged and slashed, with claws and teeth, and yes, he could’ve been picked up and thrown aside, but Azriel couldn’t do that.

And then Piglet went for the jugular. Or rather, for Azriel’s groin, latching on to his thigh and attempting to reach the most sensitive area. The only thing that helped Azriel in that moment was the fact that he was tall, and Piglet miscalculated the jump, and instead of biting his dick, he bit his thigh. It was like wrestling that cannibalistic rabbit from ‘Monty Python’--Azriel tried to pull the pug off his leg, but it was surprisingly more difficult than he anticipated. Obviously he could've been rough with the pug and hurt him, but Azriel wasn’t going to go there. Piglet wiggled, snarled and growled angrily, while he searched for more flesh to bite, looking for reactions that caused the most pain and discomfort to Azriel, and when seeing it, biting harder. 

It was Elain, at last, who jumped on the dog and tried to wrestle him away. He wouldn’t budge though, no matter how she tried to pry him off or ordered him to stop. 

“Piglet, Piglet,” she pleaded, afraid to stick her finger in his mouth to loosen his hold. “Stop. Stop.”

Cassian stepped in, trying to hold the dog off, only to receive a scratch from the angry little paw. Feyre tried as well, waving cheese and bread in her hands–who even knows how she got those–but Piglet didn’t care. Fenris pulled on the pug, grabbing him around the body, but they just heard the cloth rip and Azriel winced in pain.

Finally, Elain snapped, “Piglet! Stop right now. You are hurting daddy. Stop. You love daddy,” she reminded him, but he roared at her in response. “I don’t care. You don’t bite. Even if your feelings are hurt and he left you,” she added ruthlessly. “You are better than that.”

She gently tugged him and he finally released Azriel’s leg and trouser. Piglet was panting, glaring at Azriel with hate and resentment. 

“Pink,” Azriel began saying, but Piglet snarled at him, baring his teeth and at that point, Fenris grabbed him from Elain’s arms and held him tightly to his chest. At that, something broke inside of Azriel, who watched his best mate in the arms of another man. Now, Fenris had both the dog and Azriel’s woman as his own.

Elain, bless her weak and stupid heart, muttered, “My god, Azriel. You are bleeding! Your suit…”

Azriel was bleeding. From his hand and his thigh and his ankle. His trousers were pretty much ruined. 

Rhysand, who was observing the drama and the raging pug attack, sauntered towards their little group, hands in his pockets, and gave Azriel a once over, shaking his head like a disappointed father. 

“I will make a call to get you new trousers,” he offered. “Who made your suit?”

“Dege and Skinner,” Azriel answered. 

That announcement received a smirk of approval from his billionaire lord cousin and if there was anyone who could get a new pair of trousers delivered in a matter of hours, it would be Rhysand. 

“You need to have this cleaned,” Elain piped, looking at the pooling blood that dripped from his hand. 

“Can you help me?” Azriel asked firmly, taking her by the hand before she could say anything. He tugged her behind him, while Fenris frowned and mouthed ‘I’ll be right here’. Piglet was going nuts again, unhappy that Elain was with Azriel–barking and screaming and snapping and huffing. Fenris cradled him in his arms, rocking him, murmuring to him, as he shielded him from seeing how Azriel pulled Elain with him. Feyre was attempting to calm Piglet down with cheese and bread. Cassian, meanwhile, went to fetch an attendant to clean up the mess on the floor. Nesta was sitting at the table, drinking vodka on the rocks with extra olives, and shaking her head. 

The bridal party was still not here. Probably for the best. 

-

Azriel half dragged Elain into the antechamber reserved for the bridal guests, but seeing as it was empty right now, he closed the door and walked to the adjoining powder room. Elain stood in the middle of the room, looking a little lost and more than apprehensive.

“I can ask Cassian to,” she began saying, but Azriel shook his head stubbornly and ordered, “come here, Elain. Now.”

She picked up her skirt and wet her lower lip nervously, before walking to the powder room.

He had his suit jacket off, and the sleeves of his expensive white shirt rolled up to the elbows–his veined tattooed arms and the network of scars were all on full display and Elain swallowed loudly, still consumed by the need to be touched by those hands and be held within those arms. The white material of the shirt stretched nicely around his massive shoulders and the bulging biceps, and she needed to force herself to look somewhere else, because this was torturous–the close proximity, the scent of him, the sudden realisation that he was next to once again. She had tried to forget how it felt to be near him, tried for almost two months now, but just like that, it all flew out the window. All of her good intentions, because once again, she was next to him and he made her head swim.

Trying to find something to do with her hands, she grabbed a towel and ran it under some cool water. Piglet’s gotten carried away–there was a deep cut from the claws on Azriel’s left arm, and a whole slew of bites on his right.

“I should sue you,” he told her, without humour. “That little fucker needs to be muzzled.”

Elain bristled at his words, but didn’t say anything and only wiped the blood off his left arm. He winced and muttered, “you can’t bring a wild animal to social outings.”

“He is not a wild animal!” she snapped at him. 

He showed her both of his arms and said, “he absolutely is.”

“He was upset with you!” she defended the dog. “Also, he is a pug. I think you’ll survive.”

He looked her up and down, scrubbing his hands and blotting them with paper towels.

“Yeah, I’ll survive,” he scowled. “If he wasn’t a pug, I’d beat his arse.”

Azriel dipped his arms under the faucet once more and then wrapped them with the remaining towels.

“Do I need a rabies shot?” he asked, pressing the towels to his forearms to stem the flow of blood. “This place looks like a murder scene now,” he shook his head.

“No, you don’t need a rabies shot,” she rolled her eyes, and he snorted at her, muttering ‘always with the attitude,”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I am going to go,” she turned on her heels, annoyed at his attitude, but before she could get away, he clamped his hand on her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make her stop. Then he spun her around, so she was facing him. 

His expression was closed off and very stony, as he assessed her gown and her general appearance. 

Elain couldn’t help but blush under his scrutiny and squirmed on her toes. 

“What do you want?” she asked nervously. “Your arms will heal.”

Azriel didn’t bother answering, and instead, his hands landed on her shoulders and he drew his thumbs over her protruding collar bones. He looked unamused and said,

“You are too thin. Are you not eating?”

Elain glanced up at him in confusion. 

His tone was…concerned. As if he cared about her. Which made little sense. 

His thumbs kept brushing over her chest, her neck, and then he leaned in and smelled her hair, pressing his cheek to her satin ribbon for a moment. 

“I am fine,” she said abruptly. “I am eating.”

“You are lying,”

“I am not. Besides, it’s none of your business,” she reminded him. “You are a client. I don’t report my eating habits to my clients. Soon to be an ex-client too.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I guess I’ve gone through some hard times lately.”

“Did you now?” his hand tightened on her shoulder, and he pulled her even closer.

“I have.”

“Didn’t stop you from finding yourself another man in a month or so,” he commented coldly.

She tried to throw his hand off, but it was no use. He gripped her tightly and then pressed on her shoulder, digging his strong fingers into her flesh.

“Did you fuck him?” he snapped, his expression tight, his amber eyes glowing with a violent, unhinged need.

Elain started and dropped her hand from his arm.

“What?” she whispered.

“Did you fuck him?” he repeated dryly. “Are you fucking him?”

She bristled at his tone and stepped back, but he caught her wrist in his fingers and pulled her closer. His scarred hand cupped her cheek and he brushed his thumb over her throat, staring at her unblinking.

“Why are you asking me this?” she demanded, feeling her skin warm up under his scrutiny. “It’s none of your business!” 

He raised his brow and glowered at her, tension coming off him in waves. His thumb pressed deeper into her neck, pushing on the vein. She wondered if she’d have a bruise after this. 

“None of my business?” he challenged menacingly, that dark, deep voice of his sounding threatening. 

Elain attempted to step back away from him yet again. She was reminded of the wild, untamed beast that lived under his skin. The beast hid well enough, but she knew it was always there, raging to get out and smash through everything in its path. This was a boy who grew up on the rougher streets of Tower Hamlets and then in Lewisham and while he managed to exercise extreme self-control most of the time, right now wasn’t one of those times.

He jerked her back towards him and hissed, 

“Don’t act like you are scared of me!”

She swallowed and whispered, “Maybe I am scared of you right now.”

His expression darkened even further, but also seemed pensive–he was waging an internal battle in his own head.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” he pressed, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck, his eyes wild and hungry. “You know I’ll do anything for you,”

She swallowed hard, feeling unbearably hot in her dress, shaky and angry.

“You are getting married!” she snarled at him. “I am here. For your wedding!”

That seemed to deflate him a bit and he sighed, muttering, “So I am”.

“So what do you want from me?!” she exclaimed, trying and failing to extricate herself from his hold. He didn’t let go.

Instead, he told her firmly, “answer the question!”

“I don’t see how that’s you busi-,”

He didn’t let her finish and snarled, “Another man’s dick in my woman’s cunt is my business. Do you understand that? So answer the fucking question, Elain. Did he fuck you? Did you give him what is mine?”

She stared at him in shock, appalled by his questions and the level of vitriol that he was spewing at her. How dare he?!!? He was the one who left her! He was the one who took off with another woman and now he had the audacity to act like a jealous boyfriend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

“Yes,” she snapped. “No.”

“What the fuck kind of answer is ‘yes and no’?”

He squeezed her cheek and made her look at him. “Tell me.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she hated herself for it, but right now, she didn’t even care. She didn’t care that she was weeping, because she was…she was so tired. Just so tired of the endless heartache. Of not being loved. Of being left again and again and again. 

She hung her head low and whispered, “yes, I slept with him”.

Azriel sucked in a breath, his normally tanned face draining of colour and becoming noticeably paler. 

“Why?” he asked dumbly, staring at her. 

“Why did you leave me?” she asked instead, wiping her face, looking up at him.

He dropped her hand, but when she thought that he’d push her away, he didn’t. Instead, he squeezed her face between his hands and stared at her. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked after a long pause.

She was sniffling and whimpering, locked into his gaze, and unable to shake off his grip on her head. 

“Because I am tired.”

“Of what?” he asked gently.

“Of everything. Of you. I am tired of you. And I am tired of not being loved. I am tired of always being everyone’s second choice.”

“You aren’t though,” he argued. “Not mine.”

“You are marrying another woman!” she cried out loudly, seething and angry. “You told me all this…shit! This nonsense! About how much you liked me,” at that, he cocked his head to the side, listening to her. She continued sniping at him angrily, “And you lied to me. The entire time, I was falling in love with you and you…you,” she was panting, breathless and enraged. “You told me you wanted me. You said that I was your one and only. And then you…you…just walked away and left me!”

Azriel’s expression was empty and his gaze stony when he stepped back away from her and crossed his arms on his chest.

“You are stubborn, ungrateful, obstinate, and arrogant,” he told her plainly, his eyes scorching her, as he stared her down. Her mouth opened to a shocked O. She couldn’t even respond to him, to his horrible words, the insults.

“You are,” he continued. “For months I’ve begged for scraps of your attention. I’ve done everything in my power to be gentle with you, be kind, and love you. I cleaned your house, cooked for you, washed your dishes, cared for your dog–all the while you held me at arm’s length. I courted you like a fucking knight or some shit. I respected your wishes and I treated you with kid gloves. I planned your birthday, I showered you with gifts and attention, I decorated your house when you asked me.

“Whenever you needed me, I was there. Any time, any day. So I ask you–what was not enough, Elain??” he pressed. “I need to know. Why was I not enough for you?”

She was sobbing, her thin shoulders shaking, while he waited for her to respond and listened to the pug going crazy behind closed doors, and shouting coming from the guests. Resolutely, he walked to the double doors and locked them. They were not going to be disturbed.

“I..I…never,” she tried to speak, but couldn’t. 

He was watching her with an alarmingly detached coldness. 

“You never?” he repeated. “That’s right, Elain. You never. You never came to me and told me that you loved me. Not until it was too late. You rejected my affection,”

“That’s not true!” she screamed. “I never did that.”

“I asked you to marry me the first time we met,” he reminded her.

She threw her hands up in the air and exclaimed, “I didn’t take that seriously! You were joking,”

“Was I?” he asked grimly.

“We’d just met!” she exclaimed defensively. “You came to me to find a wife!”

“And yet, I wanted you.”

“I didn’t know!” she babbled. “How was I supposed to have known? I didn’t,”

“You did. I asked you every time I saw you,” he insisted. “You just didn’t want to hear it. You took my words in jest, but don’t pretend that it wasn’t there.”

“That's not fair!” she even stomped her foot petulantly. “You aren’t being fair!”

“Life isn’t fucking fair, Elain. I shoved my hand in your cunt and you came all over my first on your birthday,”

She blushed furiously at that, at his vulgarity.

“Yet, the next fucking day, on Christmas Eve, you threw a fit when you saw a silly little thing on my phone. Oh, I had you in my contacts under ‘Mrs. Night’. The horror. The insult!” he mocked, clutching at his chest. “You started a whole fight with me over that one thing. Which, by the way, came about as a result of your snooping,”

She wiped her tears, but didn’t say anything back. It was true. She had overreacted back then. 

“I’d offered you everything,” he recalled. “My name. My devotion. My love. All you needed to do was to accept that you were mine. That you belonged to me. That you were made for me,”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she argued, raising her chin at him defiantly. She was angry with him, and just as angry with herself. 

In one frightening, devastating move–so quick that her eyes didn’t even register what she was seeing–he was on her. He grabbed her by the throat and she gasped in terror, waiting for him to squeeze, but he didn’t. He just stared at her, his jowls working overtime. She trembled next to him, swallowing hard against his huge palm.

He said nothing, just held her by the neck, his eyes so dark, they seemed black. Gone was the warm golden brown of them. Gone was his normally jovial, unbothered attitude. He was always intense, but right now, he was menacing. 

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it, Elain?” he sneered at last. His face was close to hers, and she couldn’t help but smell the familiar scent of his skin, of his Tom Ford cologne, and notice the smattering of dark freckles on his tanned cheeks. He really should use sunblock when he played. Even in Britain. Even under its weak, blurry sun.

“What is?” she finally managed to whisper. Her throat felt restricted against his palm and she swallowed again. Involuntarily, her hands squeezed his wrist and his eyes tracked the movement. 

“Stop”. He barked at her.

“Sto-op what?”

“Stop acting like you are afraid of me!” he hissed.

“I am. I am afraid of you,” she confessed. “You are not like this…”

“And how am I?” he wondered, while making no move to release her. 

“You…you,” she mumbled, blinking at him. “You are nice. You…you are good to me.”

“I was,” he confirmed. “Why should I be good to you now?”

“Why are you putting this on me?” she shouted. “What did I do??”

He sighed and reflected, his tone thoughtful, almost bored.

“What you did…It’s what you didn't do,”

“Which is?!” 

“If only you understood that you belong to me, beautiful, everything would’ve been different. I wouldn’t have needed to take all these…drastic measures,”

“Drastic measures?” she gasped. Marrying someone else was a little more than a ‘drastic measure’. 

“If you only acknowledged one simple fact–that you were mine, that you belong to me and with me. If you would have simply submitted to me and accepted the inevitable then things would’ve been different.”

Elain bristled and lifted her chin again, ignoring his hold on her.

“You are sounding psychotic,” she told him simply.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But I am telling you how it is.”

She pursed her lips and then managed to push at his chest, trying to dislodge him. He didn’t budge, though now his hold on her throat loosened even more. 

“And yet, all of this love and devotion didn’t stop you from going after another woman,” she rebuked him bitterly. All this ‘you belong to me’ bullshit didn’t stop you from bouncing as soon as you saw an opportunity.”

He let go of her then and walked away, circling the room, his brown knitted, his look tense.

Elain rubbed her throat and winced. He tracked the movement and then stopped his pacing and asked sharply, “are you hurt?”

“I don’t know, Azriel,” she snapped. “You’ve been grabbing at my throat like a caveman since I showed up. I will be bruised, I reckon. Guess I'll consider it your parting gift, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively, “don’t be dramatic.”

“You are such an arsehole,” she groaned and then turned around and headed for the doors. “Where the hell is your bride? When is this shitshow going to start? Why did you invite us for 11 am, when it’s almost noon and we are nowhere near getting this done.”

“How many times did you fuck him?” he asked instead. 

“Ohmygod, are you back to that?!” she cried, exasperated. “Why do you care?”

“I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine,” “It’s not yours!”

“I beg to differ. So? You are not leaving this fucking room until you tell me,” he warned her.

She sighed and collapsed on a chair–thank god that it was here, because otherwise, she’d just lay on the floor. He was scaring her and exhausting her all at once, and this was promising to be the worst day of her life.

“It’s not what you think it is,” she began and he sighed an annoyed sigh. 

“Great start, Elain,”

She was wringing her fingers, looking down at the floor.

“It’s not new…Fen, that is. We’ve known each other for many years. He isn’t my boyfriend,”

Azriel stared at her, looking for any sign of a lie. 

“I am sure there is more to this,” he prompted patiently.

“I lost my virginity to him,” she told him softly “We dated when we were younger. He is a good man.”

Azriel licked his lips and thought.

“So you brought him here to make me jealous?” he pondered.

“No,” she argued defensively. “I did not want to come alone. And why would you care anyway?”

“Don’t be daft,” he said sternly. “We’ll discuss all of this later.”

Elain sighed. What was there to discuss exactly?

“Can we go back to the guests?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head and said ‘no’. 

“When is Gwyn arriving?” Elain pressed. “I don’t want to be here with you when she arrives.”

He bubbled his lips and muttered, “soon. Soon enough.”

She wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but she didn’t ask. He was already acting strange. She didn’t want to push him further. She understood that there was some internal conflict related to her that he was fighting, but also, it was his wedding day and he was bound to be jittery.

What she didn’t expect were his next words.

“I need to kiss you,” he said, flexing his fingers at his sides. 

“What? No!”

“I said I want to kiss you,” he repeated, coming closer. 

Elain’s  breathing turned fast and jerky, and he could see her pulse through her pale skin. 

“I can’t,” she shook her head. “You are marrying someone else. What are you doing?!” her hands pressed to her chest in a futile attempt to keep him at bay.

He stood over her and then stooped and pressed his hands over the back of the chair, caging her in. 

“You will still deny me?” he questioned, raising his brow at her.

“I am not,” she muttered desperately. “But…but,” she licked her lips, “you aren’t available,”

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and leaned closer, his breath fanning over her face, his hands still squeezing the back of the chair. “I want you to submit to me and kiss me.”

She blinked at him, her expression confused and panicked. 

“Kiss me like you love me,” he urged. 

“I…what…” she kept mumbling, looking around for a way to escape, and knowing there wasn't any. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to,” he said calmly, though his ‘calm’ was somehow terrifying. “And I asked nicely.”

“And if I say ‘no’?” she reached up and timidly touched the back of his neck, feeling how warm his skin was.

“Then I will be forced to take it,” he shrugged. “And you might not like it.”

Elain did not doubt him. Azriel was the type to take what he wanted from her. He always tittered on the edge of consent and force, and it seemed to her that ‘consent’ was more of a modern trapping to him rather than an obligation. This was the same man who made himself comfortable in her house, then in her bed, who’d basically moved into her home without her inviting him, who’d put her on his lap or slapped her ass whenever he felt like it. He didn’t hesitate to tell her what to do and where they’d be going, and took the reins whether she asked him or not. 

“Elain,” he said sternly. “I am waiting.”

She pressed her thighs together under her long skirt, overwhelmed by his closeness and his demand. He watched her carefully, studying her reactions, the muscles under his shirt flexing and rolling beneath the material.

“Come on, beautiful,” he coaxed slowly and warmly, leaning even closer to her. “Give it to me.”

Somehow Elain knew that she wasn’t going to get out of this and frankly, this was on him. He was the one getting married. She wasn’t his moral police–if he wanted to be unfaithful to Gwyn it was up to him. He was a player, after all, and she supposed that this is what it looked like in real time. She was just too stupid to realise before that he wouldn’t have been faithful to her either. 

She pulled her head to her and pressed her lips to his.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. 

It was angry.

Azriel pulled back away from her quickly and she thought that it was over. She exhaled a ragged breath.

He looked at her, head cocked, and then suddenly kissed her nose lightly. It was gentle. Playful.

Then his hand shot up and he pressed his thumb to her mouth, running it slowly over her lower lip, feeling it up, reminding her with his touch of how she used to kiss his fingers and his scarred hands. How she called them beautiful.

Without warning, he pushed his thumb between her lips, deeper than she even expected and she sucked on it nervously, her tongue wrapping around the digit. He smiled, watching her.

“Good girl,” he praised, rubbing his thumb against her tongue. “This isn’t very difficult, is it?”

She couldn't answer, her mouth being fully occupied, as she sucked and licked him, but it felt normal. It felt normal to offer him pleasure. Familiar even. She liked pleasing him. Always have. 

She nodded. No, it wasn’t difficult.

With his thumb still inside her mouth, he leaned in and kissed her. 

She paused, but he pushed his finger over her tongue, urging her to continue, while his warm, full lips languidly sucked on her own. He smelled good and tasted the way she remembered, and the way she loved. The kiss was hungry and possessive, and he kissed the way she loved being kissed. She forgot everything for a few blissful moments, when her fingers slipped from his neck and squeezed his obscenely firm biceps, luxuriating in the solid mass of his body. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured into her mouth. She tilted her head back, allowing him better access, and he fell into the kiss with rabid determination, eliciting a breathless whine from her full lips. His tongue met hers, overtaking it at once, and unbothered by the presence of his finger. He licked on her slowly, but thoroughly, bruising her lips with how hard he sucked and tugged on them and not feeling the littlest bit of shame. 

“Gorgeous,” he repeated, “but fucking stupid.”

Elain gasped and pulled back, her eyes opening up. She pushed his thumb out forcefully with her tongue and panted, looking at him.

He straightened and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Why am I stupid?” she challenged. 

“I don’t know,” she crossed his arms and propped himself against the wall. “You are posh. Probably makes you naive. To a stupid degree.”

“I am not naive,” she argued.

“No, you really are. Like you don’t see anything that’s in front of your eyes.”

“And what’s in front of my eyes?” 

Azriel rubbed his chin and instead of answering, he suddenly said,

“Do you know how difficult it is to find someone who looks like you in porn?”

Elain was pretty sure that it was a rhetorical question, even if she didn’t understand it.

What, she mouthed, utterly confused by this new, odd revelation. Her lips were still tingling from his kiss. She was hot. She hoped someone had some deodorant. 

“Took me weeks of scrolling on PornHub,” he continued, and she wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or to himself. “I tried and I tried to find something suitable. But how do you search for a posh bird on PornHub, who looks like you and would get all her holes filled?”

“Azriel…” she murmured, blushing violently. “Don’t say things like that…”

“I mean, I watched a lot of porn to finally land on a girl who resembled you. My dick was chafed,”

“Azriel!”

“After all that, all I could come up with was one scene. One. I jacked off to that scene for weeks. She did look like you–not in your fancy fucking way–but she had the same pink tits and the shape of the body was similar. Your big long hair. 

“She was a lot more submissive than you,” he added. “But that could be worked on, right?”

“I think you are rambling,” she rose from her chair and smoothed down her gown. “And I think I am done with you.”

“Oh no, Elain,” he smiled a cruel smile. “You aren’t done with me. Because I am not done with you.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged and headed for the door.

Then she overheard his sneer,

“Still stupid. Even now.”

She turned around swiftly and shouted, “What the hell?! Stop calling me stupid! I am not!”

“You are,” he said flatly. “You are. Because you never realised that all of it was a lie.”

#elriel #azriel and elain #elain archeron #elain x azriel #pro elriel #elriel fanfic #my writing #A Match Baked In Heaven #ACOTAR Fanfiction #new chapter #Elriel fanfiction #elain #my fanfiction

[kittenfangirl20]

*Stolas made his way to one of the gardens of the Pride Ring, it was rarely visited so it was kept in good condition, he was still reeling from him breaking up with Blitzø, he was trying to pour his heart out to Blitzø and he thought that it was a kink thing, he wondered what he did to make Blitzø think Stolas looked down upon him, should he give up or try again, he saw his favorite spot had someone else, this man was a fallen angel with short brown hair and gold eyes, he was also dressed in the punk style Blitzø liked*

Stolas: I’m sorry, but is it ok if I sit by you. I am Stolas by the way.

Adam: Sure, my name is Adam.

*Stolas sat by Adam and noticed that Adam was holding back tears*

Stolas: Forgive me for noticing, but you look very sad. If you want to, you can talk to me about it.

Adam: There is this guy I have loved for such a long time, but he chose this bitch over me. Well she ends up leaving the guy I loved and circumstances made it so I could tell him how I felt about him and we got together. It was so wonderful, I was even planning on asking him to marry me. But his bitch ex wife came back and is acting like her abandoning her husband and daughter never happened. I knew that this would happen, why would anyone want me?

*Adam breaks down crying, Stolas gathered Adam in his arms and lets him cry, Stolas felt himself start to cry too*

Stolas: I had my heart broken too lately. I fell in love with someone I met when I was a child and I was such an idiot and I made him feel like our relationship was only transactional. So when I tried to be honest, he got confused and thought it was some game. I couldn’t take it anymore and broke up with him.

Adam: No offense, but this guy is an idiot. You are handsome for being some sort of owl demon and you seem very sweet. At least you aren’t a fat slob like me.

*Stolas felt bad for Adam, didn’t this guy realize he was gorgeous, Stolas just used his beak to nuzzle the top of Adam’s head like he would Octavia and kissed him on the top of the head, Stolas marveled at how soft Adam’s hair was*

Stolas: You are very handsome and sweet, if your love chooses his ex wife over you then he is also an idiot.

*Stolas was then surprised to see Lucifer the King of Hell arrive at the garden, when he saw Stolas he went into his demon form, he didn’t know what he did to make him so angry, they met a couple times and got along*

Lucifer: Let go of my boyfriend!!!!!!!!!

Stolas: You didn’t tell me your lover was the King of Hell.

*Adam gave an absolutely sheepish look*

Adam: Yeah, sorry about that. Can you stay here because I don’t want to be alone when he leaves me to go back to Lilith.

Stolas: Of course.

*Stolas was already starting to see Adam as a friend, Lucifer looked sad at hearing what Adam said and got out of his demon form*

Lucifer: I am not leaving you to go back to Lilith. Our marriage is over. I love only you Adam.

*Lucifer came over and took Adam’s hands so he could kiss them, a light golden blush crossed Adam’s cheeks*

Lucifer: Before Lilith came and interrupted everything, I was going ask you to marry me.

*Lucifer got on his knees and pulled out a gold ring made to look like an angelic halo and placed it on Adam’s finger*

Adam: You can’t ask me to marry you when I was going to ask you to marry me.

*Adam pulled out a silver ring with jewels made to look like a little rubber duck, Stolas smiled a little when Lucifer held out his hand so Adam could put the ring on his finger*

Lucifer: I don’t care who asks who, I just want to spend eternity with you. I want to marry you and make you my Queen.

*Stolas hoped that Adam would say yes because he could tell that he loved Lucifer very much and saw how heartbroken he was when he thought he was going to lose him*

Adam: What the fuck, I will be your Queen and marry you.

*Stolas decided to leave the couple alone while Lucifer and Adam were kissing, just then a familiar van plowed through the garden and Blitzø jumped out of the van, he was still in the clothes he wore that night and it looked like he had been crying a lot*

Blitzø: Stolas, I wanted to say I am so sorry. I thought you just wanted me to plow you in exchange for the use of the grimoire. I never thought that you loved me too. I fucking love you so much Stolas. I know you deserve better than some fucked up little imp, but if you will have me, I will do everything I can to prove how much I love you.

*Stolas looked back at Lucifer and Adam, if those two could make it work out, maybe he had a chance too*

Stolas: I would like that a lot Blitzy. I would like to go home, we could have breakfast.

*Stolas picked up Blitzø and kissed him before carrying him back to the van*

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #adam #hazbin hotel adam #stolas #helluva boss stolas #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #blitzø #helluva boss blitzø #adamsapple #adam/lucifer #stolitz #blitzø/stolas #angst #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #reconciliation #stolas and adam becoming friends

[glamatron3000]

The Unofficial Malto Family Cookbook

I was inspired by the longing of @ihatebrainstorm for Alex's cooking to do a deep dive into just what Earthspark's best dad was making, so here it is! The Unofficial Malto Family Cookbook!

Just a note, I am in no way familiar with Filipino cooking (I mostly cook American, European, and Japanese-inspired food in my day to day) but I'd like to think I am a skilled practitioner of Google-Fu, so here's what I was able to find!

These dishes were either shown or mentioned, sometimes both, in season 1 and the first half of season 2. I believe I got them all, but I did pan through the episodes pretty quickly, so let me know if I missed any!

Embutido

First up is the main dish from episode 1, which already sent me on an adventure trying to identify because it was never named. After poking around a few Filipino recipe sites I managed to identify it as embutido, which is described as a Filipino meatloaf. Dot mentions that it is her favorite dish.

Lumpia

The side dish of Dot's celebratory new job meal is lumpia, Filipino egg rolls! This dish appears regularly in the Malto family's meals, seen twice again in the first half of season 2.

Pandesal

Okay, so technically this is probably just a store-bought dinner roll, but why not try to find if there's a Filipino recipe it could be? Our boy Alex seems like the type of guy to pull out all the stops when it comes to feeding his family. The closest I could find is pandesal to round out our episode 1 meal.

Breakfast Burrito

In episode 2, we see Robbie lure Alex out to the barn with a picnic of breakfast burritos. Now surely there's also a Filipino style recipe for this, yes? Yes!

Longganisa

In episode 3, we see Alex frying up a pan of sausage for breakfast. Could be store bought, but it's also possible that it's a traditional Filipino pork sausage called longganisa.

Tortang

Here's our first one that was only mentioned and not shown. In episode 4, Alex tries twice to coax Bee into frying tortillas with his stingers. At first I thought he meant just regular flour or corn tortillas, but the way he was talking made it sound like a main dish and not just an ingredient. So after a bit of digging I found a dish called tortang, which is sometimes referred to as tortilla from what I can gather (citation needed -- I am a dumb American). Unlike the sort of tortilla you would use in a wrap or burrito, this dish is closer to an omelet. Those with more knowledge of Filipino cooking please feel free to correct me if I got this wrong.

Bibingka

Another only mentioned in episode 4, this is the dish Robbie would have picked to have for dinner for a week if he'd won the weekly chore race. Of course a child would pick a sweet dessert for dinner if he could.

Spam Steak

Okay, this was another mystery for me, particularly because of the way everything is stylized in the show. In episode 5, we see Alex frying up another breakfast food. I thought maybe it was a kind of french toast, but the browning texture didn't look quite right for that. So I browsed through the breakfast section of the recipe website I've been using and the closest I've found is this crispy spam steak recipe. Apparently spam is pretty popular in the Philippines, so it's possible! Again, if anyone more knowledgeable has another option, please correct me.

Snickerdoodles

In episode 7, Alex makes bagged lunches for Mo and Robbie's first day at school. While we don't know what's in those lunches, Alex did mention that he included his homemade snickerdoodles. Snickerdoodles originate from Dutch/German immigrants who settled in New England, and since there's a lot of Dutch/German heritage in Pennsylvania where the Maltos live, I'm fairly confident this is something Alex picked up in America. But just for fun, I did find an interesting Filipino/Mexican-inspired variant of this classic cookie, so you get a two for one deal with this one!

Unfortunately, Tumblr won't let me post more in a single post, so the rest will have to be in a Part 2 reblog!

#maccadam #tf earthspark #earthspark spoilers #alex malto #cooking #recipes