#(do not fuck the dog i am politely asking do NOT fuck the dog)

[temporarywelcome]

Conversation with Agent Hotchner - Spencer Reid

REQUESTED!

The Request: Hi, love your work ❤️ Request: What is kleptomaniac!reader went to the BAU but instead of seeing spencer see goes and sees another BAU member and starts yapping to them about everything and nothing (probably amusing [annoying] the fuck out of them too) and it gets to the point where Spencer has to drag them away. [I can totally see her doing this to Hotch with no fear] Thanks, bye :3 - anonymous

CW: language, some suggestive comments, technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series though this can be read 100% standalone. Though, if you want to learn more about reader's relationship with Henry, you can read "Babysitting" and "Turkey". not required tho! :)

AN: Spencer comes in more towards the middle lol

_______

Words: 1.5k

She was no dog. 

Yes, she was being dramatic, but Spencer telling her to sit and stay made her huff, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance (while doing as told, sitting and staying). Spencer had his reasons, considering she was a diagnosed kleptomaniac and was very likely going to steal things. It was better she stole from his desk and not someone else’s. 

So she sat as he ran to help JJ and Garcia with something. Sat and ate her Subway sandwich with a pout on her face. She had brought Spencer lunch, a toasted sub that was surely getting cold while it waited for him. A shame, because she had made sure the employee making the sandwich had warmed up not just the bread, but the contents inside as well, knowing Spencer and his tastes. 

Soon, her sandwich was gone, along with objects that were on Spencer’s desk (to her pockets they went), and she was swinging her legs back and forward like a child. Looking around and scanning other people in the office. People watching. 

Boring. 

Then her eyes landed on a familiar member of the BAU, and she grinned. Entertainment! Someone to keep her company while she waited for her lovely boyfriend to return from his treacherous adventure into the unknown (the filing room). 

That someone was Agent Hotchner. Hotch. 

“Aaron!” she said brightly, giving him a big wave. 

Hotch, who was walking towards his office, nose buried in a manila folder, looked up at her, “Hello, Y/N,” he said politely, giving her a half-smile. Quarter smile? Something. 

She shot up from the chair Spencer had provided for her, strolling towards him, “How is everything? How are Jack and Haley?” 

“They are good, I appreciate you asking,” Always the professional one, Agent Hotchner. “Jack actually said he missed you,”

Huh? 

Somehow, Y/N, who didn’t even like kids, was like a BAU-kid magnet. JJ’s son, Henry, adored her, and was practically on top of her every time they saw each other. Just recently, Jack met Y/N at an event, and it seems she left a good impression on him. 

“Oh, really?” she asked in shock, brows raised, “Cool! He’s a nice kid,” her eyes landed on the file in Hotch’s hand, “So, whatcha got there?” 

“...a file,” Hotch replied vaguely. 

“For what though?” she was not taking a hint. 

“Work,” 

“Hm,” she nodded, in thought, “I work at night,”

“You do?” he went back to looking down at his folder. 

She nodded again, “Yes! As a dancer,” she paused, “Wait, that sounds weird. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being that kind of dancer, it’s just I am not one of them, y’know? I do professional dance and musical theatre, my rehearsals are at night-”

“I know what you do for a living,” Hotch interrupted, “JJ and Will took Henry to one of your shows, correct?”

“Yes! They did,” Y/N confirmed proudly, “I could hear Henry cheering from afar!”

“How nice,” 

Her brows furrowed, surveying Hotch’s expression. You don’t need to be a profiler to see how uninterested he was. “You don’t give a fuck, do you?”

“Language,”

“Sorry,” she awkwardly looked down, like a scolded child, “You guys don’t swear? What if it is a really stressful case? You never say ‘fuck this stupid shit’ or anything…?

The older man looked up, making eye contact with her. “No,” 

“Why not? Are you not allowed to let out frustration or anything? Is letting out a good swear really that bad?” she began fiddling with something in her fingers, Hotch’s eyes trailed down to her hands, seeing what she was fidgeting with.

“...what the fuck,” 

“Hey! You just swore!” she exclaimed, before eyeing the object in her hands. His ID badge. She didn’t even remember swiping it during this conversation. “Oh. I see why,” Awkwardly clearing her throat, she handed it back to him, cheeks rosy. 

“This is the second time you’ve done this,” a sigh left him, clipping the badge back onto his suit jacket. 

An equally awkward laugh escaped her lips, “That’s nothing compared to the amount of times I stole Rossi’s keys- I mean, I mean…” she clamped her mouth shut. “Nevermind.” 

As she dug herself into an even deeper hole, Spencer returned from the filing room with JJ and Garcia. “...yes, a cluster of bananas are called a “hand”, while each individual banana called a “finger- hey!” he gasped as Garcia gave him a little wack on the shoulder. 

“Y/N is out in the wild,” she said, eyes locked on Y/N enthusiastically telling Hotch something. “Talking to Hotch,”

“Better than Rossi,” JJ pointed out. Rossi liked Y/N the least, only recently beginning to tolerate her. She tilted her head to the side as she examined Spencer’s girlfriend. “She’s moving like a Sim,” 

Spencer looked at JJ in confusion as Garcia burst into laughter. “What does that mean?” 

She ignored him, “Go save her, Romeo, she’s drowning over there,” 

And so Spencer rushed over to join his girlfriend in her conversation with Hotch. 

“...why, yes, I’m great with my fingers,” she explained, “-on piano! Holy hell, I should have said that better. Holy hell-” her face burned red as she silently prayed for an earthquake to hit so she can be swallowed by the Earth. 

“-Y/N, can you help me with something?” Spencer placed a hand on her shoulder, grip slightly tighter than usual. A message. Shut the fuck up. 

Alas, her savior has arrived! “Yes, of course. I’ll gladly help you,” 

And with that, Spencer was dragging her off by her wrist. 

“I told you to stay seated,” he scolded, pushing her down into the chair by her shoulders, “I wasn’t even gone for that long!”

“You know I get bored easily,” she shot back. 

“Imma have to get you one of those bookbags with a leash on it,” the genius pinched the bridge of his nose, “Like a toddler,” 

The frown quickly left her lips, replaced with a big smirk, “I know what I can do with a leash,”

“What do you mean- Y/N!” he looked around frantically to ensure no one was listening, “We are at my job!”  he placed a hand on his throat protectively, as if to keep her away.

She wiggled her brows playfully, “C’mon, you know that was a good one. I’m a genius for that.” She then noticed Hotch scurry off to his office with his usual pitbull expression. “Ugh, that conversation I had with him was so awful. I couldn’t stop being annoying,” 

“Great with your fingers, huh?” 

A look of horror formed on her face, jaw falling in shock, “You heard that?”

“Mhm,” Spencer finally seated himself next to her, clicking his pen and beginning to write on some paperwork. 

“Well,” Scooting her chair closer to him, she whispered, “I can always demonstrate,”

“Piano?”

“Ugh,” Forget it. She leaned back, unamused. “You’re no fun,” 

And with that, Spencer went back to work, complaining because his food was cold now, which she wanted to hear nothing about considering she had made sure his food was warmed up to his liking. He worked, complained, ate, she listened, also complained, messed around. The usual experience. 

Occasionally, Y/N found herself glancing back at Hotch’s office, a sense of dread filling her each time. Rossi, her number one hater, entered the office, making her grimace.

“What if they start talking about me?” 

“Why would they?” her boyfriend didn’t even bother looking up from his work. 

“Because they hate me, of course,”

“Nobody hates you,” 

“Liar,” 

Rossi eventually left Hotch’s office, and soon so did he, making his way towards Reid’s desk. Fuck. Y/N reached out, grasping Spencer’s hand tightly, which in turn caused him to scribble and scold her for being so dramatic and now Hotch was directly in front of them shit-

“Reid,” 

“Yes, sir?” Spencer yanked his hand back, looking up at his boss apologetically. 

“Would you like to have dinner with Haley, Jack, and I?” he asked, surprising both Spencer and Y/N equally. 

“Dinner?” he repeated slowly, eyes darting to his girlfriend then back to Hotch. 

“Yes. You and Y/N,”

‘And me?’ she almost pointed at herself for clarification, instead clasping her hands in her lap. 

“Um, that should be fine. Y/N, do you have work tonight?” 

“No,” she choked out, “I do not,” 

“Perfect,” Hotch gave his signature quarter-smile, “Jack will be very excited to see you. I’ll let them know,” 

He turned on his heel, walking off and leaving both Spencer and his girlfriend completely in shock. This obviously was not the first time Spencer would be having dinner with Hotch, but the fact Y/N was invited as well, especially after that whole debacle, was incredibly surprising. 

“...do you still think he hates you?” Spencer asked playfully, pinching her cheek before turning back to his desk. “No one can hate someone like you,”

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Terry (The Wizard of Oz, The Women)— Such an incredible actress, she deserved so many more roles than she got, and sadly wasn’t even credited with her real name in [one of her] major motion picture[s]. She oozes charisma and has incredible chemistry with Judy Garland. (Disclaimer, I do not think she’s hot, I think she’s a very good girl)

This is round 1 of the tournament. Terry earned inclusion because she fit the parameters set in the submission form (ie movie leading lady with star quality and a career between 1910-1970), but is unfortunately prevented from continuing in the bracket due to being a Cairn terrier. Apologies to Ms. Terry and we hope she understands.

All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of this beloved canine icon of the screen.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

[silverspleen]

STUPID SHIP MEME DRAWINGS.

I just think they should kiss maybe?

Obsessed (positive??) with the dynamic of guy who betrays his country so he can run off with the militia he's been working with because he gets a case of loyalty feelings so bad he goes and blows himself up X morally upstanding traumatic backstory woman having the worst fucking time of her life (again) who really just needs someone to be as fanatically loyal as possible to her, as a person who is really into the inherent eroticism of the hierarchical military power dynamic focus on loyalty and the use of "yes ma'am" as I love you.

Obsessed (negative) with the propaganda implications that we seem to have ignored of the fact that the three most important people in an arabic woman's life are 2 (two) white guys and her brother, who betrays her and becomes a villain in the later games, and the fucking insidious-ass narrative choice of placing one of said white guys in said militia as like, the tacit fact that this organization is ok only because the western white guys are cool with it. Stop introducing more ULF people just to kill them!!! I SEE YOU WRITERS!!! YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME!!!!!!

because, once again, the character dynamic? I am sick for it. He dropped a building on himself for her and then came back???? He came back???? He could have gone anywhere but he came back to her???? I'm unwell. I think I have covid. I need to go lie down.

Anyway my city now my characters now smashing them together like barbies watching that .gif of them staring at each other eighty times reading all the fanfiction goodbye

you shouldn't blow yourself up in the furnace I want to blow myself up in the furnace for you as my own personal choice and you should order me to do it because you're such a good leader what is wrong with youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrgh *gnaws on furniture*

WE DON'T EVEN GET TO SEE HIM COME BACK TO HER. THANK YOU FIC WRITERS YOU KNOW THAT REUNION MUST BE SO ANGST THE COMPLEX DYNAMIC OF SACRIFICING YOURSELF FOR SOMEONE AND MAKING IT OUT AND BACK TO THEM AGAIN!!!!!!! THE GUILT! THE YEARNING! THE LOYALTY! I AM GOING TO EXPLODE.

[newvision]

Feeling like cracking open my skull, throwing up, never leaving bed etc

[beloveds-embrace]

Noona please I beg of you, I need more men grovelling and regretting their actions; please give us more of the angsty version of the dukedom au it’s so good, it’s so cathartic please. What happens when the boys realize they fucked up? Who wants to fight Konig upon realizing reader is definitely getting her back blown out by him? Imagine if reader ended up having his baby, or placing divorce papers on Price’s desk, god the ANGST of it all

Here’s my dog as a banana as payment

Original post

THE DOG PICCC TELL YOUR DOG I SAID THEY ARE GOODEST BOY/GIRL EVERRRR ID DIE FOR THEMMM

also thank you to everyone for all the suggestions! I couldn’t add all of them so I’m super sorry for that 😭 and also a thank you to @darkangel4121 for your replies!!

The shift in the household’s demeanor comes slowly, as if the wind has changed direction. At first, it’s little things- a hesitant glance from John, a lingering pause before he leaves a room. Kyle- as you've come to finally learn his first name despite not asking- places your breakfast tray before you with newfound care and no disdainful silence, and Johnny’s meals are cooked to perfection, also a new name you've just so recently been told of. Even Duke Riley himself begins to nod in your direction when he visits, acknowledging your presence in ways he never did before.

But it all feels hollow.

These gestures, once craved, now barely touch you. You are polite, civil, offering faint smiles that do not reach your eyes, acknowledging the changes without truly engaging. Your heart no longer waits at the threshold of their approval; it has found its sanctuary elsewhere, firmly cradled in the hands of a man who has always seen you. Your knight. Your shadow. König.

You walk through the estate, thinking of John’s efforts with a detached air. He invites you to dinners now rather than leave you alone for entire days and nights, his voice gentler, eyes searching for cracks in the walls he helped build. He asks about your day, and you respond with the measured politeness your parents taught you. The warmth he offers now is too late, a sun long set. The flicker of hope in his eyes fades each time you excuse yourself early, your presence like a ghost haunting rooms that no longer feel like home.

König waits for you just beyond the hallways, his presence like a balm to a wound. He falls in step beside you without a word, the weight of his loyalty comforting in a way no amount of decorum could be. He is everything you need- unwavering, fiercely protective, and yours.

In the gardens, beneath a gnarled oak tree, you find moments of peace with him that you could never find within the walls of the estate. You sit together in companionable silence, your shawl and his cape wrapped tightly around you against the evening chill. When you lean against him, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of his armor, you feel his breath hitch. His hand comes to rest at your back, gentle despite the strength he wields.

“I missed you today,” you whisper, your fingers tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his sleeve. It is an admission you would have once swallowed down, but with König, you have no need to hide.

His grip tightens briefly. “I am always here, mylady,” he replies, his voice soft only for you. “You need only call for me.”

“I know.” You close your eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. It beats for you, and that knowledge fills the spaces that loneliness once carved. “You are all I need.”

He shifts then, kneeling before you as he often does, his hands enveloping yours. His gaze is intense, pale eyes searching your face for signs of hesitation, but there are none. “I would give you the world if I could, mylady,” he says, voice low. “But all I have is myself.”

“You are enough,” you say simply, and you mean it. “More than enough. All I could ever want.”

König bows his head, a soft exhale escaping him. “Then I will stay by your side, always.”

The men of the estate still try, fumbling in their newfound efforts to mend what they broke.

John brings you flowers, freshly cut and arranged with care, so you can decorate your drawing room where you occasionally play the harp. You accept them with a polite nod, but they are forgotten in moments, and you go back to asking Konig his opinion on the melody you are playing. Kyle offers to escort you on walks, but you refuse, choosing instead the quiet solace of the garden paths shared with König. Simon’s attempts at conversation are met with cool civility, and Johnny's food largely goes untouched. You allow none of them closer than courtesy demands.

And the gifts received from John and Duke Simon are left untouched. They aren’t much of your style anyways.

But with König, you are different. Soft. Open. You share your thoughts, your fears, the dreams you had long given up on. He listens, always.

One evening, in the safe privacy of your rooms, he rests his head in your lap, a rare moment of vulnerability. You cradle his masked face, tracing the edges of the fabric. You are unafraid of being interrupted; your new maids were quiet and nervous, likely not wanting to be dismissed after the last batch were. You still have no idea how Konig managed to do it, but he spoke to John personally and had them all removed; despite that, you don’t care for their dubious help.

You had made sure to show Konig your appreciation quite thoroughly. Even days later, you swore you could feel how big his hands on your thighs were, keeping you nice and open for his tongue. He'd kept you in that position even when a knock had sounded and someone had entered, but the knowledge of what was going on only sent a sharp thrill of excitement through you.

Still, pettily, you hoped it'd been John who had seen you in the throes of pleasure.

Not right now, Duchess. Not right now.

“Are you tired, my love?” you ask gently, the term of endearment slipping out so naturally it catches even you by surprise, earlier thoughts pushed aside. Still, you have no desire to take it back.

He stills, breath caught. “Say it again. Please.”

“My love.” You smile, leaning closer to press your forehead against his. “You are my love.”

His hands tighten around yours, trembling. “I have always been yours.”

And you believe him. In the warmth of his embrace, you find what the others could now never give- a place where you are cherished, where you are enough. The rest of the estate watches you drift further away, their regret too heavy to shift the chasm that now lies between you. You are beyond their reach, ensconced in a love that was never born out of duty but out of genuine care.

In one of those quiet moments beneath the moonlit sky, after a tiring day of going between appointments and lawyers, you ask him, “Will you take me far from here one day, König? Somewhere far away, where I am free?”

“When you are ready, Liebling,” he promises without hesitation, pale eyes earnest. “I will take you wherever you wish to go.”

The world around you may continue its attempts to pull you back in, but it is too late. Your heart belongs only to the man who has always been your refuge, your shadow, your light. And with him, you finally feel free. König, König, König- and no one else.

dukedom au masterlist

[checkeredflagggs]

Winner’s Circle

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader x charles leclerc

summary: max, charles, and y/n are the stars of redbull, ferrari, and aston martin (and their relationship is the star of the internet)

a/n: sorry Lance but bye bye! Fem!Reader is now driving for aston martin . This takes place in 2025 and certain predictions I make are NOT how I think the season will go

a/n2: this was requested and I really liked it! It was a good jump into poly fics which is something I’d like to write more off — nony I hope you like it! Sorry it took awhile…

a/n3: I love how Liam got a seat and immediately started making enemies 🤣 so I kept that tradition

y/n_am_racing

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 2,833,184 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

y/n_am_racing: mine. All mine. Stay mad!

view all comments

user1: damn girl…

↳user2: girls got game! liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

user3: dream threesome right there!

↳user4: which ones?

↳user3: yes liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, y/n_am_racing

↳user4: understandable. Continue on

oscarpiastri: congrats dad and dad and mom

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks osc

↳maxverstappen1: 👍🏻

↳oscarpiastri: thrilling conversation right there liked by charles_leclerc

↳charles_leclerc: thank you son!

olliebearman: new parents? (Congratulations!)

↳maxverstappen1: how many children do you have? Because I feel like you severely underestimated the amount you told me

↳charles_leclerc: 🤭🤭

↳y/n_am_racing: ignore them Ollie and thank you

↳olliebearman: of course!

liamlawson30: I’m not calling you mom

↳y/n_am_racing: I’d run you over if you tried

↳charles_leclerc: such violence against Max’s kid!

↳y/n_am_racing: such violence against the damn annoyance

↳fernandoalo_oficial: Me alegra que estemos de acuerdo contra él. Glad we are in agreement against him

↳y/n_am_racing: Aston Martin against Liam! liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: I am being so attacked right now and I didn’t even do anything

↳fernandoalo_oficial: tu existes you exist

↳y/n_am_racing: you exist!

user5: Liam not even having his seat for a month and already beefing with Aston Martin is hilarious

↳user6: one of the original grid terrorists and the girl everyone calls the Ice Bitch because of how fucking cold and mean she is? Not the best choices for enemies liked by fernandoalo_oficial, y/n_am_racing

astonmartinf1: Congrats!

↳astonmartinf1: but maybe give this poor admin a wanting next time?

↳scuderiaferrari: or this one?

↳redbullracing: any admin actually

↳user7: these fools really didn’t tell anyone they were gonna hard launch their relationship?

↳y/n_am_racing: nope!

↳maxverstappen1: better to ask forgiveness than for permission

↳charles_leclerc: ☺️☺️

charles_leclerc

liked by y/n_am_racing, maxverstappen1, pierregasly, and 2,283,193 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, y/n_am_racing

charles_leclerc: Ma lune et mes étoiles. My moon and stars

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user8: oh hello jealousy thanks for your visit

user9: what I would give to be apart of that relationship…

↳user10: same! Are they looking for a forth? A dog? I can bark

maxverstappen1: mijn liefje my sweetheart

↳y/n_am_racing: have I told you guys lately I fucking love it when you speak foreign to me?

↳user11: 🤣

↳charles_leclerc: mes étoiles, pourquoi ne le dis-tu pas encore au cas où. My stars, why don’t you say it again just incase

↳maxverstappen1: niet recentelijk en de herinnering is leuk. Not recently and the reminder is nice

↳y/n_am_racing: hot 🥵🥵🥵🥵

oscarpiastri: is the family dinner still on?

↳y/n_am_racing: of course! Sunday at 4 at Max’s

↳olliebearman: am i still invited?

↳charles_leclerc: of course!

↳kimi.antonelli: you’re just gonna leave me alone?

↳y/n_am_racing: why don’t you come too kimi?

↳kimi.antonelli: sì, grazie!

↳maxverstappen1: again how many grid kids do you have? Because I still feel like you severely underestimated the amount you told me

↳y/n_am_racing: at least ours are polite. Yours is…Liam liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: honestly fuck you?

↳maxverstappen1: what

↳charles_leclerc: do not speak that way to her!

↳liamlawson30: she started it!!

↳y/n_am_racing: ha!

y/n_am_racing

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, user, and 3,121,183 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

y/n_am_racing: baby i'm astounded by how this country screams your name (just like I will)

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astonmartinf1: please report to HR for another round of pr training

↳user12: leave our girl alone!

↳y/n_am_racing: thank you!

↳user12: she absolutely did something wrong but it was funny af liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

↳y/n_am_racing: 😑😑

charles_leclerc: 🥰😘 liked by y/n_am_racing

↳y/n_am_racing: meet me in your room in five

↳scuderiaferrari: No

↳charles_leclerc: yes!

↳y/n_am_racing: too late

↳astonmartinf1: definitely need that pr training…

maxverstappen1: mijn schatje…my treasure…

↳y/n_am_racing: try winning a race this year? And maybe you’ll get the same kind of post

↳user13: oh my god what a reminder that this hasn’t been redbull’s year…

↳y/n_am_racing: it’s because of Liam liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: I’m going to run you over

↳y/n_am_racing: in that fucking tractor? You’d have to catch me first

↳user14: it might not be redbull’s year but it IS y/n’s! liked by y/n_am_racing, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

user15: the Ferrari domination this year is hot as fuck

↳user16: he could dominate me…

↳y/n_am_racing: hem-hem?

↳user16: THEORETICALLY. I MEAN THEORETICALLY

↳y/n_am_racing: much better

user17: as a ferrari and y/n fan i am loving this year!!

↳user18: as a max fan i am not…

lewishamilton: do I need to find a new room tonight?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: or do I?

↳y/n_am_racing: yes

↳maxverstappen1: yes

↳charles_leclerc: yes

y/n_am_racing

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes, and 3,173,284 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes, carmenmmundt, flavy.barla, iamrebeccad, lilymhe, lilyzneimer, alex_albon, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, estebanocon, fernandoalo_oficial, georgerussell63, landonorris, lewishamilton, logansargeant, mickschumacher, oscarpiastri, pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, zhouguanyu24

y/n_am_racing: thank you to my boys and my girls and the grid for the best 27th birthday ever!

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user20: the fomo I’m experiencing right now…

↳user21: no I know what you mean

lilymhe: that was literally the best birthday party ever!

↳y/n_am_racing: only because you were there!

↳lilymhe: well that’s just not true pretty girl!

↳maxverstappen1: stop flirting with our girlfriend?

↳y/n_am_racing: shush

↳lilymhe:😘

↳maxverstappen1:🙄

landonorris: where do I send my bill?

↳y/n_am_racing: for what?

↳landonorris: for my dj services?

↳y/n_am_racing: you mean when you drunkenly took over the music for 5 minutes then passed out on top of a table?

↳landonorris: is that why I have sharpie all over my face?

↳alex_albon: yeah

↳georgerussell63: it was a tempting target

↳maxverstappen1: yup

↳carlossainz55: an opportunity I didn’t want to miss

user22: ok but was everyone in the grid invited?

↳y/n_am_racing: yup! And everyone came for the dinner but it was only the kool kids that went to the after party

↳user23: even Liam?

↳y/n_am_racing: we needed someone to stick the bill on liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: SERIOUSLY?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: ¿Por qué pagaríamos cuando estabas allí? Why would we pay when you were right there? liked by y/n_am_racing

↳user23: your continued hatred of Liam is probably my favorite part of the season…

lewishamilton: props where they’re do — you guys can throw a mean party 🥳

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks Lew! And thank you for the gifts — I love them

↳user24: who else is curious about what y/n got?

↳y/n_am_racing: he got me a couple of custom Louis Vuitton shoes!

↳y/n_am_racing: and some of the other guys got me the matching purses!

↳user25: I am so unbelievably jealous liked by y/n_am_racing

yukitsunoda0511: the food passed the test

↳y/n_am_racing: not sure what test it was but glad you enjoyed it! And thanks for the Japanese cookbooks — I’m expecting actual lessons though!

↳yukitsunoda0511: good plan!

maxverstappen1

liked by y/n_am_racing, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,938,183 others

tagged: y/n_am_racing

maxverstappen1: treating our girl right for her birthday

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y/n_am_racing: thank you my loves. It was the best birthday ever 💚💚

↳charles_leclerc: Mes étoiles, c'est tout à fait normal que nous fêtions votre anniversaire. C'était le plus beau jour de notre vie parce que tu es né et tu es finalement devenu le nôtre. My stars, it is only right we celebrate your birthday. It was the best day of our lives because you were born and eventually became ours.

↳maxverstappen1: Mijn schatje, de hele dag doorbrengen met het verwennen van jou was het gemakkelijkste wat ik ooit heb gedaan. My treasure, spending the day spoiling you was the easiest thing i've ever done.

user26: is that…is that max verstappen being soft? Mad max? Being soft? liked by y/n_am_racing

↳y/n_am_racing: aren’t I the luckiest?

↳user27: you really truly are

fernandoalo_oficial: feliz cumpleaños niña. Happy birthday girlie

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks Nando!

↳user28: god this mentor/mentee partnership is the best. Not taking any questions or criticisms

↳y/n_am_racing: easy to do when it has both me AND nando! liked by fernandoalo_oficial

astonmartinf1: happy birthday!

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks admin!

liamlawson30: you definitely look older!

↳y/n_am_racing: when you go missing, I won’t be sad liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: 😑👎🏻

y/n_am_racing

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, fernandoalo_oficial, and 1,273,832 others

y/n_am_racing: Canada oh Canada thank you thank you thank you! P1 BABY!

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astonmartinf1: THATS OUR GIRL! Y/N POINTS!

↳y/n_am_racing: HELL YEAH I AM!

fernandoalo_oficial: felicidades, niña! Congratulations, girlie!

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks nando! And congrats on p4!

↳user29: Aston Martin for WCC!! liked by fernandoalo_oficial, y/n_am_racing

maxverstappen1: glad to be on podium with you both

↳y/n_am_racing: we’ll have to do it more often 😘

↳charles_leclerc: ma lune et mes étoiles, vous êtes toutes les deux tellement incroyables! my moon and stars, you are both so amazing!

↳y/n_am_racing: my room in five? liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc

↳astonmartinf1: no they’re banned

↳scuderiaferrari: stop stealing our driver!

↳redbullracing: No!

↳y/n_am_racing: too late!!

user30: today is definitely y/n’s day — p1, podium with her boys, and she’s getting railed?

↳y/n_am_racing: 😊😊😊

↳user30: tell me your ways please

↳y/n_am_racing: nah

charles_leclerc

liked by y/n_am_racing, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 2,824,284 others

tagged: y/n_am_racing, maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc: vacances d'été avec ma lune et mes étoiles. Summer break with my moon and stars

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y/n_am_racing: nowhere else I’d rather be…

↳user31: girl same

↳y/n_am_racing: back off! They’re mine! liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: it’s been a good break so far

↳charles_leclerc: it has! 🥰🥰

↳user32: oh to be on a boat with y/n, max, and Charles…

↳y/n_am_racing: ngl it’s pretty great

oscarpiastri: padel tomorrow?

↳y/n_am_racing: ugh no

↳charles_leclerc: absolutely!

↳maxverstappen1: sure

lilymhe: golf tomorrow y/n_am_racing?

↳y/n_am_racing: anything for you pretty girl!

↳alex_albon: am i just chopped liver?

↳y/n_am_racing: tbh some people actually like chopped liver so…liked by lilymhe

user10: again are they looking for a forth?

↳y/n_am_racing: nope!

↳maxverstappen1: no

↳charles_leclerc: non

↳user33: shut! down!

y/n_am_racing

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 2,813,193 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

y/n_am_racing: I forgot how good you looked on the top step baby

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user34: go max!

user35: congrats max!

maxverstappen1: it’s been awhile

↳y/n_am_racing: I think the saying is good things come to those that wait?

↳maxverstappen1: I’m not very good with waiting hence the race cars…

↳charles_leclerc: …your room in 5?

↳y/n_am_racing: already there!

↳charles_leclerc: ☺️

↳astonmartinf1: sorry redbullracing she was tooo fast for us

↳scuderiaferrari: Charles we can’t keep doing this…

↳redbullracing: you guys were specifically banned from our garage!

oscarpiastri: congrats man!

↳maxverstappen1: thanks oscar

user36: god it’s been so long

↳y/n_am_racing: sorry not sorry but I’m gonna make sure it takes this long for the next one!

↳maxverstappen1: mijn schatje…my treasure…

↳y/n_am_racing: 🥺🥺🥺🥺 liked by maxverstappen1

↳maxverstappen1: 🙄

liamlawson30: don’t crash into me challenge FAILED

↳y/n_am_racing: when is Max Verstappen second driver curse gonna kick in?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: hopefully soon liked by y/n_am_racing

↳liamlawson30: how do I dislike a comment??

↳y/n_am_racing: THIS IS MY COMMENT SECTION!!!

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc,y/n_am_racing, user and 3,129,287 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, y/n_am_racing

maxverstappen1: what an incredible season — not the one we wanted obviously but I am so incredibly proud of charles_leclerc on his WDC and y/n_am_racing and astonmartinf1 for their WCC. We’ll learn from this and come back stronger next year — I’ll be coming for my trophies.

Now it’s time to rest and relax with my loves.

comments have been restricted on this post

astonmartinf1: thank you max! But don’t think we’ll make it easy for you liked by y/n_am_racing

charles_leclerc: ma lune, ce fut un plaisir de courir contre toi l'année dernière. my moon, it was a pleasure to race against you the past year

↳maxverstappen1: it’s always a pleasure to race against you and y/n liked by charles_leclerc, y/n_am_racing

fernandoalo_oficial: tu es presque sûr que tu as oublié de remercier quelqu'un? pretty sure you forgot to thank someone?

↳maxverstappen1: oh yeah…

↳maxverstappen1: congrats I guess

y/n_am_racing: I can’t wait to spend the next couple of months with just you and Charles! 💚💚

↳maxverstappen1: the best part of the year

↳charles_leclerc: it’ll be a good break ma lune et mes étoiles. My moon and stars

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @mxm47max @loveylee @voidvannie

[notafunkiller]

out of style

Summary: A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

Pairing: ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, oral séx, no condom (but f is on birth control), language, a little alcohol, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 7.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

What an ass... He has no shame at all. And the worst part? You’re still somehow surprised by it. As if you haven’t known him for years.

You look away, making sure to take a sip from your wine before focusing on the conversation again. It’s Nat’s big day, and you’re so happy for her, but listening to this story for the seventh time is exhausting. Same reactions, too: “Wow, he’s so well trained.” or “The wedding bands didn’t fall even once. Enzo is fantastic.” He’s a trained dog, you don’t get why they’re so fucking impressed.

You give Nat a smile before you excuse yourself to go to the bar. Maybe you should get a cocktail, the wine tastes terrible. On the way, you notice Steve talking to Miss Sunshine in the right corner, and you just nod toward him politely, trying to look unbothered. It’s his best friend’s girlfriend after all. What did you expect? Plus, maybe it’s just a polite conversation.

“A Sex on the Beach, please,” you murmur to the bartender.

“Vodka so early?”

You turn your head with a sigh just to see a guy you recognize from Nat’s engagement party. A fresh haircut, a simple suit and wandering eyes.

“Is there a time limit for a cocktail?” you respond, rolling your eyes when you notice he is still fixated on your chest.

He immediately raises his hands in defense as he takes a seat next to you.

God, if you hate one thing about being single besides the lack of sex is this… needing to deal with those men. It was perfect when Bucky used to take care of them.

“I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart.” You scrunch your nose instantly. God no!

“Here you go!” The bartender places the glass gently in front of you, and you’ve never been more grateful to see her.

“Thank you!” You smile before taking a huge sip, hoping it will turn him off and make him get away.

“A vodka tonic for me.” His tone is commanding, and you try not to roll your eyes again as he leans in closer. “We’re matching.”

“Huh?” You choke.

“Vodka lovers.”

Alright, time to get out of here!

You quickly grab your glass and stand up, making sure to fix your dress just in case, but his eyes are already on your breasts again. For fuck’s sake! How is he Steve’s cousin?

And talking about Steve, you almost jump when you hear him saying your name.

“Hey.” You’ve never been happier to see him.

You can’t say the same thing about his friend, who’s right next to him, looking the creepy blondie up and down.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asks with obvious concern.  “Do you feel okay?”

“Hey, man! The food is great and the company even better. Look at her, such an eye candy, am I right?” He chuckles at his own disgusting comment. “I mean, you’re married. Don’t answer that, I don’t want Romanoff on my back.” And after all of this, he has the audacity to wink at Steve. But before you can throw your cocktail over his shirt and make a scene, Bucky’s already getting in front of you, blocking your view with his huge back.

“If you want to keep your teeth, get the fuck out of here and never, ever get even within three feet of my wife. Am I fucking clear?”

His tone is so cold, harsh, and arrogant at the same time, but also so possessive. It surprises both: you and Steve, because he immediately looks at you confused before dropping his eyes on your hand.

He must be looking for a ring.

God, you never hated Bucky more than when you see blondie standing up and going straight outside just like that. It makes you even angrier because it’s always a man who has to explain the obvious signs to these assholes so they leave. You say no? You are playing hard to get. You are with a man? Then it’s all off-limits.

You sip your cocktail with frustration, the taste of vodka lingering on your tongue.

Then, you take a step toward Bucky, grabbing his arm and turning him so he can face you. “Listen and listen good, I’m not your wife and I don’t need you to play the macho hero! I can handle myself, so back off!” You wanted to leave after saying this, but the way he looks at you makes you change your mind. His eyes softened, showing a trace of your old Bucky, and it only pisses you off more. He labeled you just like that... “I divorced you for a reason, I’m not your property or responsibility. Stay out of my fucking business or I’ll show you exactly how well I can take care of myself!”

You hand him your half-full glass and storm out, seeing red. Or well, blue.

You anticipated that he’d come after you, of course you did. You know him, as much as you hate to admit. You still know him well. Too well.

And when you hear his sigh behind you, you don’t jump.

“You can handle yourself, but he was all over you. Sorry for being a gentleman.” He apologizes sarcastically. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Too bad, Barnes! I am not your little wife. I am not your girlfriend. I am not even your friend.” You turn your head to look at him as he’s standing on the other side of the balcony. “And I am not that flavor of the month of yours, you have to kill these habits.”

He raises his head. “Flavor of the month?”

“Yeah, your plus one. You know, you should take care of her instead of trying to play hero and calling me your wife.”

“Keeping an eye on me? He smirks. “Thought you divorced me for a reason.”

Fuck him! He thinks he got you... “I did! You couldn’t open your mouth to say what bothers you, remember?”

“Well, I opened my mouth to do something else, far more exciting.”

You gasp, incredulous at his audacity.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream, walking toward him. “Seriously!”

“What is wrong with me? You tell me! You divorced me for a reason.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother? Fuck off already, Bucky!”

“You got angrier with me now than back there with him. Unbelievable!” He shakes his head.

You take a deep breath, trying not to have a crisis. You are not gonna let him get to you. “Look, can you just pretend this didn’t happen?”

He instantly looks at you shocked as he leans in. “This as in,” he waves between you two. “Our marriage? You think I can pretend our marriage never happened?” His voice grew louder, his words punctuated by sharp, angry inflections. “You think just because we divorced, you get to ask me that? How can you...”

You’re taken completely aback by his whole attitude, and it’s like you’re back in time at your wedding as he made you sneak out so he can make you come on his tongue after saying all sorts of things.

You don’t know why you suddenly remembered that, but you need to snap out of it.

“I meant the whole interaction, you annoying man!”

“How was I supposed to know?” He looks much more relaxed now, though, and before you can think about it, you’re poking his chest.

“Why would I tell you to forget about our marriage, Bucky?” You smile. “You are more than free to think about me as you fuck your little flavor of the month. I am not gonna stop that.”

You see his eyebrows raise instantly as his gaze drops to your finger. “My little flavor of the month? How many times did you think about me fucking her?” His hand finds your wrist. “Did you wonder if I’m fucking her from behind as I choke her? Did you imagine me coming all over her tits? Did you-”

You grab his cheeks, just the way he likes it, to stop him.

“You think I have nothing better to think about? I have my own dicks that occupy my thoughts,” you lie through your teeth, and he knows it. God, he knows it as he chuckles right away.

“What’s so funny, Barnes?” You let go, expecting him to do the same, but he’s still holding your other wrist.

“You have no dick to think about. I know you broke up with your last flavor of the month, honey.”

He knows how much you hate being mocked with the word honey, but you bite the inside of your cheeks. “It’s funny really,” you fake giggle, looking up at him. “You assume I don’t have someone already. Maybe I’m just enjoying my life after our divorce... new dick every month since I am a free woman. I don’t even need something serious. You know how much I love sex.”

His smile immediately drops, his face reddening.

“You are absolutely infuriating!” Even his tone carries a sense of irritation.

“Aww, what happened?”

It’s his turn to grab your face, making you gasp. You don’t remember the last time he touched you, and you’re shivering.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, and you know it!”

“I don’t play games, Bucky, that is your specialty.” You smile, trying to maintain your composure. “Now let me go and get back to your little girlfriend. You can be mad about how many dicks she thinks about.”

“You can’t do the whole non-attachment shit. I know you well, don’t forget that. You’re my...” He talks so fast you’re surprised he stopped. You know what he was gonna say, of course you know. The audacity!

“I am not your wife, Bucky. You literally have a woman with you here tonight. We divorced, we live in separate places, and we fuck different people.”

“Who are you fucking, huh?” He almost spits the last words. “Tell me! Nat said you’re single.”

“You’ve been asking Nat about my personal life?” And she is spilling to him? No way.

“Fuck...” he frowns, dropping his hand from your face. “No.”

“Steve!” You realize. “God, this is pathetic! Why do you keep tabs on me, huh? Can’t you just mind your own business? Is your life goal to piss me off?”

“I’m not the one calling Jessica the flavor of the month.”

“Ha!” You laugh in his face. “Well, you have no success in getting a girlfriend. And they all look pretty familiar.” You can’t hide the venom in your voice. “The differences are they’re just taller and with less in the chest department. Quite interesting, don’t you think?”

“So you’re keeping tabs on me too!”

“You flatter yourself. It’s quite obvious, look at Jessica. Does she know you were married to me? Does she beg you to fuck her mouth? Does she...” You take a deep breath. “Does she call you daddy, James? Does she ride you until you lose control and turn her on her back so you can pound her?” You don’t care anymore. Right or wrong, you’re gonna let it all out. “Do you praise her? Tell her how wet she is for you? How your cock is made for her? Do you... do you tell her you love her while she’s coming? Do you fucking call her your good girl?”

“Jesus-” You don’t let him continue his sentence, interrupting him.

“Does she take you like I did? Does she beg for you because she feels empty, James? Does she? Did any of them?”

“Stop. It.”

“Why? You didn’t stop!”

He sighs, reaching out to grab your cheeks gently. “No one does, are you happy? I don’t even fucking try. I don’t let anyone call me daddy, I don’t choke anyone and I definitely don’t fuck anyone like I fucked you. Are you happy? Seeing me miserable and pathetic? Are you enjoying it?”

You can’t deny the satisfaction and relief you feel when you hear that. Dating post-him was a very bad experience overall, so him not upgrading, indeed, in any way, makes you feel victorious. At least, you’re both suffering.

“Yeah, I actually enjoy that.”

“What about you?” He snaps. “Do you do all of that?”

“I don’t want to be called daddy, James.”

“You know exactly what I meant! You call those losers daddy? You choke around their cocks? Do you beg for their small dicks to go deeper and finish yourself off after it?”

“Like I begged for your small dick?” You ask annoyed, knowing how dumb this lie is, but what else can you say? No one compares to him and never will.

His response shocks you as he reaches down to the zipper of his worn jeans and pulls it down.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy?”

“Wanted to, you know… give you more mocking material in case you forgot how small it is.”

You have to think twice about what to say because the first thought was: I have enough videos, thanks. But you can’t. You can’t expose yourself like that.

“James, what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to hurt me?”

“With my small dick?”

You look away for a few seconds, not wanting him to read you. “Why are you doing this? We divorced, you’re seeing someone, I’m good by myself... just let it go.”

He smiles at that, and you realize you indirectly told him you are indeed not fucking anyone.

“Why would I let go of my wife?”

You’re slapping his chest before you realize what you’re doing. “Stop this, Bucky! Just fucking stop.”

He’s hurting you, how can he not see that?

“You said you divorced me for a reason. You said...” he pauses. “You ordered me to leave you alone. Well, what if I don’t want to?”

“What are you, a fucking stalker?”

“No!” He almost screams. “I am fucking in love with you, you infuriating woman!”

“W-what?”

He can’t be joking about this, can he? He is not cruel. He is not vile. This isn’t a game.

“I’m in love with you. I love you. You own me... you fucking control me.”

“How?”

He laughs hysterically, running his hands through his hair before pulling. “I am fucking obsessed with you: how you are, if you’re doing well, if you miss me, if you’re fucking someone else, if your date went great, if you regret being with me, if someone else makes you smile wider. I dream about you, I am so miserable I couldn’t be with anyone. With Mia it lasted a month. I wasn’t... I wasn’t okay. I am not okay.”

You look at him, waiting for more. “Go on and zip your jeans, we’re in public.” You  watch him quickly do what you demand before you continue. “And what about Jessica tonight? Or Alexa a month ago? Why are you lying to me?”

“It’s not real. Jessica... I was just trying to make you jealous, okay? I was sneaking looks all night, have you not noticed at all?”

You don’t smile, despite your huge instinct to. Instead, you cross your arms, watching him drop his gaze straight to your boobs.

“Why would I notice, James?”

“Well, how did you notice Jessica looking a little like you, that she’s with me here?”

Fair point...

“Just...” You’re suddenly gripped by this crazy urge to just fuck him right here. You even regret telling him to zip back up. You could have just lifted your dress as he lowered his briefs and took out his cock. And just like that, you could have just fucked against the wall or something. You would have let him rip off your panties too. You just need his cock so badly! “Shut the fuck up!” You snap, grabbing him by his neck so he can lean in enough for you to be able to kiss him. And oh, you kiss him!

You don’t have to fight to dominate the kiss, surprisingly, because he lets you. He lets you bite his lip and almost draw blood, he lets you unzip his pants again and push down his unfit-for-a-wedding jacket, and most importantly, he lets you be his again, as pathetic as that might sound. You feel him emotionally, not just physically.

Without wasting more time, you drop to your knees, making sure only your dress and shoes touch the floor directly. You drag down his pants and briefs at the same time from your position, and he looks at you surprised.

“I thought we’re in public and you were fucking some-” his words die as you bring your tongue to the head of his cock, tasting the precum, but not sucking even a little bit.

“Weren’t you saying something?” You tuck your hair strands behind your ears as you mock him. You love being on your knees for Bucky. He has this dominant energy, but he always makes you feel in power even when he fuck your mouth. And you enjoy it, you feed on it. One of the reasons you missed him so much. And he can take mocking. “Please go on. I am all ears.” You breathe out on his dick. “And tongue.”

“Oh god,” Bucky’s voice is a moan at this point, and you laugh. So easy...

“I’m your god now? Aww! Come on, do I have to do everything tonight?”

He looks down at you confused. His blue eyes are almost grey, and you know he’s on cloud nine already just because you’re there.

“What?”

“Oh, you need translation. Well,” it’s all you say before wrapping your lips around his dick and using both of your hands to push him as deep as he can go inside your mouth. He moans at the same time you gag, and his balls slap you in the face. He instinctively looks at you to ask if you’re okay, but you are more than okay. You are fucking alive. You encourage him to fuck your throat at this point by squeezing his ass cheeks and touching his balls.

“God, look at you! That pretty black dress…” He pulls out and back in not as forcefully as he can, but enough to make you start tearing up quickly. “On your knees for your man. That mouth!”

You find yourself moaning at the feel of his fingers grasping and tugging at your hair. Jesus, how you missed this...

“You have the sweetest mouth.” Does he even realize what he’s mumbling? “I could die right here. Right now,” he says and thrusts harder, which makes you close your eyes. You can barely see anything because of the tears, and he’s already close. “My pretty baby, my fucking girl.”

You’re getting wetter and wetter the more he talks, and it’s crazy. You’re cold and your jaw is hurting, yet you love this.

“Not caring if someone can catch us, just making sure you mark me again. God, I'm gonna come, baby. Gonna... should I p-pull-”

You don’t let him finish his sentence as you grab his ass to make sure you keep him there, in your throat, as he comes while moaning your name.

When he finishes, he immediately helps you stand up, before he kisses you desperately, his tongue immediately licking your bottom lip to get access. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. You moan in the middle of the kiss because his semi-hard cock is right where you need it, and it’s like torture...

“Need to taste you, okay, baby?” He asks with so much need in his voice. He sounds so whipped. “Need my pussy. Can I take you to my room?”

That is perfect, a dream at this point. But you need to make him a little more desperate.

“But the wedding… They would kill us.”

“I am sure you care sooooo much about this wedding and Nat’s stories. More than about getting my tongue on that pretty clit of yours and making you come all over my face.”

You can’t hold back your laughter.

“Fair point, Mr. Barnes. I deserve my orgasms, especially after listening to you pathetically trying to seduce me by admitting how desperate you are.”

“You dropped to your knees on this balcony just to mark my cock as yours.”

You pull his hair a little. “You said it yourself, it's already mine. Now get that ugly jacket and carry me.”

Bucky snorts, kissing your cheek. “You bought me that ugly jacket.”

“I know.”

*

You don’t know where you left your phone and even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. All you can focus on is Bucky taking off your dress and groaning at the sight of your cups. You couldn’t wear a full bra, so you improvised. They could barely hold your breasts, but no nipples showing? Win.

“Hurry up!”

“Jesus,” he moans and reaches for your cups. Desperate man... you roll your eyes, but let him uncover your breasts and grab them into his hands eagerly. He’s not just holding them, he looks and touches them as if he’s never seen boobs in his entire life, let alone yours.

“James...” You sigh, throwing your head back in pleasure when he finally gets your nipple into his mouth. Your hand finds his hair instantly, and you watch him suck happily while playing with your other nipple.

“You’re quite hungry,” you say with a smile, stroking his hair. You missed this so much. His need to always touch or sleep on your boobs, the way he grabs them while he’s pounding you... You shiver in anticipation when he switches to the other tit.

“Fucking shit, I missed them so much.”

You snort. “My boobs?”

“Mine.” He’s not sucking anymore, he’s eating them, shocking you.

“H-hold on a second, Bucky. They’re breasts, not my clit.”

“It’s been a year, love. Let me get my fill. I died without them. Died!”

As much as you wanted to think only about the part he missed your boobs, you can’t help the jealousy that clouds your mind. You were divorced, yet the image of him sucking someone else’s tits makes you want to hit a wall. Mia all over him... You pull his hair angrily. “You surely had other tits in your mouth, Bucky, for the past year. Don’t pretend this is any different.”

He immediately stops sucking. “You... you can’t believe this. Tell me you don’t believe this.”

You look away, too proud to face him. “What am I supposed to believe, huh? It’s been one fucking year.”

“I’ve been yours this whole year. I’ve been thinking about you, fucking my fist while watching... our videos, as fucked up as it might be. I tried to date, but I failed, and trust me, it has nothing to do with the size of my dick and my age. No one is you. No one smells like you or talks like you. No one is my brat with the god complex.”

“God complex?” You raise your eyebrow, keeping your face straight. “Fuck you.”

“I will fuck it out of you as I usually do, don’t worry.”

“Then why does it keep coming back?”

He chuckles. “Because you want to get fucked all the goddamn time.”

“Like you don’t!” You puff. “Come on, I breathe in your direction and you get hard, Bucky.”

“Did you see yourself? Did you have sex with yourself? You cannot judge me!” He grabs your breasts again. “There is no comparison, okay? You have no rival. Never did, never will.”

“That’s all?” You puff, amused. “My looks?”

“Do I even have to say… Your god complex exists for a fucking reason. You’re the smartest, most sarcastic, and feistiest person I’ll ever meet. One mocking comment, and you know how I get.”

“Pathetic?” You mock him on purpose just to get the reaction he is talking about. You love it when he compliments you.

“Is this why you divorced me? Cause I am a pathetic son of a bitch?”

You  take a deep breath. “I divorced you because you refused to communicate properly with me anymore, and you know it.”

“So not because of my small dick, either,” he remarks, making you roll your eyes.

“No, your small dick is one of the reasons I am here.”

Bucky dramatically touches his heart. “So you’re using me for my sex skills!”

“As if you don’t beg me to use you. Come on, put that mouth to good use before Nat comes after us.”

He doesn’t disappoint as he finally rips your underwear off, just like you fantasized about, and you use this as the perfect opportunity to fish for more.

“What happened, Jamie? So eager. Aren’t you a little good-”

The word boy comes out as a moan when you feel his index finger curled up inside you suddenly.

“What happened, honey? Too big for you?”

“Dick!”

“You’ll get that. I just need to erase the memories of having little pencils in here. That must have been traumatic.”

“You’re such a jerk!” You snort, but he’s right. It was really bad.

Bucky shrugs, finally kneeling properly between your legs before lifting them on his shoulders. God, yes!

“Gonna give my pussy some loving.”

“D-didn’t know you have a pussy, James.”

He smiles against your inner thigh. “I certainly keep what I lick.”

“Eww, what the fuck.”

He snorts, kissing your slit. “I am joking, baby. Tried to imitate one of those dicks you thought you could replace me with.”

Petty fucking bitch! You grab him by his hair and push him closer to your pussy.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!”

His tongue feels like heaven, indeed, on your clit. You’ve lost count of how many times you remembered him eating you out so you can come this year. He's just so good at eating your pussy.

You let out a satisfied sigh when he adds a second finger. You start to feel like before… like you and Bucky are still married and with no problem. Like you're happy. He makes you so happy. Made.

So you stare at his hair and stroke it as he sucks on your clit, completely squashed between your thighs, and try to hold back your tears.

When he adds his third finger and starts tracing eight figures on your clit with his tongue before he flattens it, you know you’re about to come.

There is something about the way he always manages to make you vulnerable even if it’s not intentional, to cut you open and get in... and you don’t want it to be over. You can’t let him go again after tonight. You’d suffocate.

Your efforts to delay your orgasm and not tear up are futile because when he sucks a little harder, you come and start sobbing somehow. The orgasm is strong and even though you’d want to watch Bucky, you close your eyes, letting yourself go, and shut your mind down for a second. Everything feels so overwhelming. So amplified…

You’re grateful he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, either, even though you felt him hesitating when he heard you crying. You really needed this.

As soon as you finish, you drop your legs, furiously trying to wipe your face. He knows the difference between crying because of a crazy orgasm and you being emotional. He instantly gets back on the bed next to you and pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve had in two years.

“God, I’m...” You don’t know how to continue this phrase. You should not feel sorry for crying and you’re not pathetic for it. “I m-missed you so much, Bucky. Why did you give up?”

You feel his warm breath on your forehead. “I never gave up, baby, I swear.”

“B-but you did. You didn’t even try for more than six months. When I told you...” You take a deep breath. “That I want a divorce, you didn’t even look at me. Once, Bucky! Not even once…” You show him your index finger. “You simply agreed. You gave up on us. I was waiting for you to say: no, let’s try. No, I’ll communicate. Your words...” You sob. “Your words would have been enough for me. You should know that.”

“Oh my god, baby, please, breathe!” He kisses your forehead over and over again. “I never gave up, I swear. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell you all of that, but you asked me for divorce. It felt like you wanted out. You were tired of fighting... you were tired of me. And I didn’t want to tell you to stay just so you could either stay with me out of pity or reject me. I would have died... To look at you and beg, and to see you detached.”

You shake your head into the crook of his neck. He cannot...

“How would I be detached if I tried for six months? How would I get tired of you?”

“Exactly. You tried for six months. I thought you snapped out of it...”

“Out of what?” You whisper, scared to say it louder, but he hears you anyway.

“Out of love.”

You immediately lift your head to look at him. He’s crying, too. “Bucky...” You bring your fingers to his cheeks and start to caress them.

“I just couldn’t remember us like this. I couldn’t look into your eyes and see you staring at me like I’m a stranger.”

“Jesus Christ, when did we fail to communicate this much?”

He knows you don’t expect an actual answer, so instead of speaking, he holds you, and kisses you, and makes you giggle.

The more you move into his lap, the better you feel his erection pressing against your pussy. So close, yet so far.

He groans, placing his hands on your hips. “Careful.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be careful. I want you to fuck me raw right now.”

“Right now? He snorts, using his position to his advantage and moving. And just like that, you’re suddenly pressed with your back against the bed, and his mouth covers the valley between your breasts. That didn’t take a lot of convincing.

“Did you fuck anyone else without protection?” You ask unsure how to formulate it without it sounding a little weird. You’re not even sure you want to know the answer if it’s positive, but still.

“No. Only condoms and well... to be honest more my fist,” he chuckles, helping you get on your back again by bringing a pillow under your head. “I tested myself, of course.”

You nod, trying to hide your happiness. You selfishly wanted this: no one but you to feel him without any barrier.

“Good.”

“What about you?”

“No one for me, either.”

You would laugh at his proud face if you didn’t know he might use it to tease you later. You can use it too, though.

“Come on, baby, spread your legs for me. Daddy’s home.”

You laugh surprised, but you do what he says. You really missed having him between your legs.

Needy, you reach for his T-shirt, that for some reason is still on, and you tug it down, showing him you want it off.

He hesitates for a couple of seconds too long before grabbing his T-shirt by the neck.

“Come on, what did you do? Got a tattoo?”

You get your answer as soon as he’s finally naked.

“Oh, God!” You instantly lift your hand so you can grab his necklace. “What the fuck, James...”

“I told you I never gave up on us.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been keeping it on since we divorced?”

He blushes, looking away. “Yeah.”

“Even when you were with other girls?”

Your heart is racing.

“Never took it off.”

You giggle, touching the surface of the ring over and over again.

“No wonder why nothing worked.”

“I had no intention to make it work.”

You say nothing, just looking into his eyes and letting him see how fucking much you love him, how he could never be a stranger, and you kiss him, wrapping your legs around his ass to show him what you need.

“I want you to pound me, okay? I want to feel you for days, do you hear me? I am so wet and ready. Please, just fuck me!”

You shiver a little when you feel the back of his hand brushing against your clit while he brings his cock to your entrance.

“Gonna make you mine again, alright? Gonna make you forget this year and everyone who,” He finally thrusts inside you. “Tried to get you.”

He’s thick. Really thick, and you can’t believe how you managed to survive without this stretched-out feeling for a whole fucking year.

“I hate you so much!’

He snorts. “I am pretty sure you love me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have my cock inside you after one year.”

“This is the problem!” You hiss when he pulls almost completely out. “One year, Bucky!”

“Aww!” He says a bit mockingly before thrusting all the way in again. Oh my God... you close your eyes. “Is this your bratty way of telling me you missed my small dick?”

“Bratty? You think this is bratty?” You ask him sarcastically before bringing a hand to his ass. “Harder!”

“Harder, huh?” He quickly unwraps your legs and turns you on your belly before you can react.

You gasp, shocked by how fast he is and hating the emptiness, but he ignores it, bringing a pillow under your pussy.

“Ass in the air, come on.”

You comply immediately, staring at his face from the side. He looks like he’s on a mission, with his hair already in all directions and the wedding band hanging around his neck.

The first thing you feel is his mouth on your ass cheek, licking on a spot before biting.

You hiss. “James!” It hurts, not more than a spanking, but you weren’t ready for that.

“Mine.”

You snort, wiggling your ass. “Yeah, yeah. Now gimme my cock.”

And he does. He so does, he’s not slowly entering you, no. He pushes in almost fully with only one thrust, making you bite into your pillow.

“You missed that, didn’t you? The way I fill you up is so good. The way...” He slaps your ass. “No one can make you feel so good. No one can fuck you like the desperate whore you are for my cock.”

You moan loudly into the pillow. You love being called a whore like this. Because he is right and he is obsessed with it, anyway. “B-Bucky...”

“Tell me whose cock you love? Tell me.”

He’s thrusting so fast at this point that you can barely even hear him.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, no. That is not what you call me like this.”

“James...”

He suddenly stops thrusting, and you whine, lifting your spinning head to look at him over your shoulder. No matter how much you try to tilt your hips to make him move, you fail.

“If you want to get fucked, baby, you gotta call me the right-”

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy. Happy now?”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not that happy with your tone.

You smirk.

“I see you need a lot of battiness fucked out of you.”

“Then why are you not fucking me, daddy?”

“Oh, goddamn it!” He’s not holding back now, moving like he used to. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you love me... that no one, fuck- no one is like me!”

His voice tinges with a hint of neediness... maybe even urge. His vulnerability takes you a little aback because it’s stronger than his mocking. He’s genuinely seeking for reassurance as he gazes at you with a mixture of desire, desperation and longing. He’s searching for validation in your eyes the way you were earlier, so you give it to him.

“You’re the only one for me, J-James. I love you forever. I never... I n-never stopped!” You can’t keep your head up a second longer as you drop it on your pillow, moaning.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You half-snort, half-moan. “W-we can’t.”

“We can.” The sound of his balls slapping against your pussy almost covers the sound of his voice.

“We... we have to apply first.”

He spanks your ass again, and you scream, the sudden pain making you feel so good.

“So wet for me. They stood no chance. T-they don’t know how hard you want it.”

“Daddy, please... Please!” You’re a moaning mess. You just need a little harder. Just a little.

You’re not sure if you’re gonna have a voice after this. He’s pounding you so hard.

“My good, good girl.” He’s squeezing your hips, and the sound of your skin slapping is echoing. “God, gonna come for me? Jesus, wanna fill you up with my come too. Please, baby.”

You don’t know when or how he manages to do it, but he sneaks one of his hands under your body and pinches your nipple. You gasp, the wave of pleasure hitting you as he keeps fucking you. You feel your body weakening when he says your name over andl over again, but you don’t open your eyes for a while, letting him fuck you desperately while playing with your breast.

“Gonna- fuck, take my come, wife! Take me!”

He’s coming so much... surprisingly much even for him. You can feel him dripping down your thighs even when he slows down, then stops his movements before he falls on top of you as soon as he finishes.

“James...” You groan. “You’re heavy.”

He places a small kiss on your back, and you giggle.

“I love you.”

You melt, but he moves to the side before you can reach for his cheeks.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him. “So much that I let you drag me out of my best friend’s wedding reception.”

Bucky snorts, brushing his nose against your face. “Pretend all you want, I know you were bored as fuck.” You feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whine. It’s a little uncomfortable. “Sorry, wifey.”

“I’m not your wife yet.”

“Yet, but you were and you will be again this week.” He takes your ring finger into his mouth.

“Bucky!”

“What? We need new rings.”

You try to pull out your finger. “No, we don’t. I have mine.”

“We need...”

“How about we use all that money for a vacation instead?”

“Neah, honeymoon is honeymoon.”

He finally lets your finger go. “We are not buying other wedding bands.”

“I am not debating a new engagement ring, though.”

You roll your eyes, but you know it’s the best deal you can get.

“Fine, a new engagement ring,” you agree while rolling ro his side and placing your head on his chest. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Don’t want to or can’t?”

You decide to surprise him by biting a spot right above his nipple. He groans while you simply laugh.

“You just can’t be subtle, can you?”

“If you’d wanted subtle you’d have gone for someone like Steve.”

“Eww, Bucky. I have your come dripping out of me and you bring up Steve?”

“You literally talked about Nat a sec ago.”

Then, as if a switch was flipped, your eyes widen. “Oh shit, my phone!”

“Where did you forget it?” Bucky asks casually, so used to gathering your things for you. You really missed that, too.

“Table. God... Do you think they know?”

“Know what?” He giggles, raising both of you until your backs touch the headboard. “That you dropped on your knees in the middle of the wedding to suck my cock? Or how I fucked you raw until you cried.” A sudden realization crosses his face. “You asked me to fuck you raw. Are you... still on the pill?”

You roll your eyes. “You think I’d let you fuck me like this for the first time we talked to each other properly since we divorced if there was a big chance to get pregnant?”

“I assume you are still on the pill, don’t be patronizing!” He kisses your nose, which he knows tickles you.

Ass...

“You are asking a dumb question instead of getting your ass downstairs to bring me my phone.”

“How is that dumb? I wanted to know if I should get you a pill or something.”

“So you don’t want babies with me!” You try not to laugh as you say it, biting your lip to keep your face serious.

“Why do you act as if I told you I don’t want a baby with you?” He chuckles when he sees you pouting. “We’re just getting back together and no way you’d want a baby now. But if I am wrong, let’s go for it. I can give you a baby, just get off the pills.”

“You don’t give me a baby, James. We have a baby together!”

He sighs, getting off the bed to get his clothes back on. “Obviously, but I am the one coming inside you. This is what I meant. I am all in. But we need some adapting time at least.”

You should stop this whole teasing-testing thing. You both have the same opinion after all. You might have a baby, and you know he’d be involved one hundred percent, but not now. Absolutely not.

“I know. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re such a tease.” He snorts, putting on his pants. “Before I go, do you want me to run you a bath or should I bring you a towel?”

“Do you plan on staying there?”

He turns his head to you instantly. “Yeah, sure. I am gonna eat some steak and brag about fucking my wife.”

“Alright, alright. Bring me a snack and we can take a bath together. Actually,” you think about it better. “I’m gonna clean up and wait for you.”

“You want me to fuck you again, don’t you?” He asks as he fixes his jacket.

“Why? Is this all you could give me?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Sure.” You spread your legs at the same time you grab your own breasts, making him groan. It’s so easy to get to him. And it’s hilarious.

“Jesus, you’re planning to kill me.”

“Not you acting as if it’s the first time this happened.”

“It is the first time in over a year, baby.”

You feel yourself softening again. “True. Now, please, please, please, don’t give them any details and bring me a snack.”

“What snack?”

“Anything, make me a plate, I don’t care.” He nods before reaching for the keys. “Oh, and Bucky? Tell your flavor of the month you don’t need her anymore.”

“I told you she is not-”

“And tell Nat I’ll make it up to her!” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. You don’t need him to defend a random girl’s honor.

“You’re so jealous.”

“Lock the door!”

You giggle satisfied when he closes the door and let yourself scream out of happiness while staring at the bite he left on your ring finger. Mrs. Barnes never got out of style.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Your Adventures as the Lookismverse Designer

G/N. Run-ins with Burn Knuckles, Goddog, Allied and Big Deal. Masterlists

Being in the Fashion department, you had assumed your classmates had a passion for fashion. For god's sake, it's in the name.

But no, you're wrong.

Apart from using it as an excuse to wear designer brands from head to toe, no one really gave a shit.

No one cared about the history, about design, fabrication, construction.

No one... apart from you that is.

.

.

Your first client wasn't really someone you could say no to unless you had a death wish.

When the whole of the Architecture department shows up along with Vasco, their terrifying leader, you consider running off and screaming.

It was only Jace Park, who seemed to understand a more subtle approach and how intimidating they looked, that stopped you from wanting to flee to the teacher.

(Strange. You actually don't recall seeing your teacher for months.)

"Please," Jace murmurs to Vasco and he's practically begging. "You didn't need to turn up with everyone. Just leave this to me. Please."

If you didn't know better, you would think Vasco was giving him grateful puppy eyes. But that can't be right. He's a thug.

"Sorry," Jace turns to you, looking contrite and fiddling anxiously with his big ears when you're finally on your own. "Are you the Fashion Designer?"

It should have been a stupid question, considering you're in the Fashion Department.

Except you look around at the so-called boxer who pitifully simps after the brunette all day, the rich blonde kid who never talks to anyone, the other girl who is an aspiring streamer and you sigh to yourself.

"Yes, that's me."

.

.

All things considered, the Burn Knuckles are very easy to please.

It's a design printed on some pre-made boilersuits, not exactly avant garde.

You did touch up the logo though and provided some more clothing options than requested. Boilersuits in a small selection of colours, bomber and leather jackets.

When you hand over the boxes to Vasco and Jace, the latter shakes your hand and the former stares at you with tears in his eyes and asks how they can ever repay you.

You shrug. Because he did already pay you for your time and the materials.

"Don't worry about it." You say, giving him a polite grin.

Vasco beams and you think maybe this guy isn't so scary.

.

.

.

.

Somehow your reputation precedes you.

To be honest you didn't even realise you had any sort of reputation until a guy with a messy mop head and two dogs corners you in an alleyway.

"I heard you're the Designer," he grunts.

A part of you thinks of fleeing once again. A smaller part of you thinks damn, that nickname is kinda cool.

"I am?"

"Don't play dumb. I know who you are."

You would have found him rude and menacing if not for his dogs picking that exact moment to roll around on the floor belly-up, desperately wanting some attention.

"Fuck's sake," he mutters though he squats down anyway to pat them. "So?" he continues, trying to regain his previous threatening aura even as the pups wriggle around under his touch.

"So what?"  you ask, not able to stop the smile creeping over your face at this adorable sight.

"I need some clothing."

.

.

Perhaps the Burn Knuckles gave you a false sense of bravado, thinking everyone would be as easy as them. Unfortunately, this guy is a goddamn headache.

He wants hoodies, which isn't an issue but he wants matching dog-sized ones and he wants you to design the logo from scratch too.

"But I don't do graphic design," you cry and he pretends he can't hear you.

On your twelfth iteration, he doesn't glare at it and praise the heavens; he's finally happy.

Well, happy is an overstatement. He doesn't exactly look happy but he's no longer glaring at you, so you assume in Johan Seong's world, that means he's exhilarated.

The hoodies fit, both Johan and the dogs, and the logo looks good too.

You wave goodbye to the back of all three. Your bank balance is healthier except you hope they never darken your doorstep again.

.

.

(You have no such luck. He returns, months later, requesting tracksuits.)

.

.

.

.

It's a sorry state of affairs when three of the members of Allied are part of the Fashion Department, and come to you asking for help.

"Why don't you design it yourself?" you ask Daniel Park, Zack Lee and Jay Hong.

They look at you like you've grown two heads.

.

.

You will be eternally grateful that Jay Hong is mute, that Vasco is actually the sweetest cinnamon roll, and Daniel Park is pretty easy-going because having Vin Jin and Zack Lee constantly bickering and criticising your design is bad enough.

Apparently these men are very adept fighters. Caught up in some gang shit. It didn't matter. You still wanted to ram your pen through their skulls.

Then throw in someone else called Hudson Ahn who also seems to like giving rude, overly critical comments concealed as constructive criticism -

You threatened to quit more than once.

.

.

Eventually, after staying awake for 46 hours - you all agree on a logo.

"Here." You thrust the USB drive with the files at Daniel Park.

"What do I do with this?"

"You're in the Fashion Department too." You rub at your tired eyes, patience long gone with these morons. "Find a clothing printer yourself. Search for it on the internet. You know what that is right? The internet?"

Somewhere to your right, Vin Jin bursts into laughter.

.

.

.

.

You can't decide if this guy is trying to sell you something or if you're actually falling in love with him by the second.

Hell, he could sell you some snake-oil and you're so charmed you don't mind.

"So, you'll do it?" he asks, holding your hands in his larger gloved ones and you feel yourself simpering like an idiot at the contact.

"Sure thing, Mr. Kim."

"Jake," he says, giving you a toothy grin. "I'm Jake. And this is Jerry."

"Who?"

"Jerry Kwon," A large hulking man steps up besides Jake, offering you a handshake.

What? How did you miss him? You didn't notice him at all.

"Oh. Uh. Of course. Nice to meet you too Jerry."

"Come here, guys." Jake signals for the other men hanging back to come forth. "Ths is Brad and Jerry and Lineman."

Shit. Damnit, you've been so fixated on Jake Kim that you ignored everyone else.

Hell. You didn't even realise there was anyone else.

"Hi," you say, wanting the ground to swallow you up and blushing furiously.

Jake catches your eye and gives you a wink.

.

.

Being completely honest, the Big Deal tracksuits aren't your best work.

You're not too sure on the logo design (though hey - that's not really your handiwork). The placement is a little awkward and the design is sort of plain.

You added gold elements to at least make it a bit more cohesive, and sourced extra durable fabrics with lots of movement as apparently the guys have a tendency to damage clothing during fights.

"What do you think?" Jake says, modelling your finalised version.

From the smile on his face, you could tell he's very much satisfied with your work.

"Looks great," you say and you're telling the truth. Although it's not really the tracksuit that looks great, but the man wearing it. His broad shoulders and tight waist, long muscular legs and-

Oops. You silently apologise for objectifying him.

The way your eyes rake over his form isn't subtle, though it's definitely flattering. Jake playfully throws another wink your way.

[hitomisuzuya]

Hiiiiiii how are you doing? <3

Stepcest Scara playing with us using a remote controlled vibrator while we're trying to play it cool while there's a family gathering pls? I can only imagine the shit eating grin he would have on his face when he looks at reader across the room while his hand presses a button on the vibrator lol

Stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable, please. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Sex toy. Edging.

No kidding, that shit eating grin would one for the ages. *Soda is called pop where I live. I am doing..okay..

Scaramouche prided himself in this idea, considered it genius in fact. Even though there was a family gathering going on, the only thing you'd be able to think about was him thanks to the vibrator inside of you. You'd looked so proud and determined, telling him that you could handle anything he had in store.

He was going to enjoy watching his sweet, delicate step sister struggle not to fall apart, craving his cock between your legs instead of a vibrator.

Things had been quiet so far, the vibrator inside you remaining off. And that started to make you think: when was he was going to press that button? He could practically see your mind racing. As much as he was enjoying making you squirm with anticipation, it was time to have his fun with you.

Father gatherings always bored him to tears.

You glanced at Scaramouche before you bent down to get a can of pop out of the ice filled cooler. His shit eating smirk sent a shiver down your spine. Scaramouche rolled the controller in his pocket around and around in his hand, purposely letting a long minute or two drag by, watching you walk over to get some food before he pressed the button.

You nearly dropped the entire plate of potato salad. The toy was on the lowest setting, sending teasing vibrations humming on your sensitive walls. The lowest setting wasn't so bad.

At first.

Your clit started to swell and throb, the wet arousal starting to soak your panties was getting harder to ignore. It wasn't easy to go around, and appear that everything was perfectly normal. In the wake of making polite conversation with another relative, talking about your dog or the weather, thoughts were swirling in your mind.

Of your step brother pounding his cock inside of you, teasing and degrading you about not being able to handle a simple vibrator inside of you. Those thoughts helped your walls to clamp around the vibrator.

You dug your fingernails into the palms of your hands, struggling to keep your focus. Soft vibrations were humming against your sweet spot, so barely there that it made you want to sit down and rub your thighs together, or discreetly sneak inside to rub your clit for a few moments.

All the while you could feel Scaramouche watching you, that shit eating smirk widening on his face.

You gasped, covering your mouth and coughing to disguise a moan. The vibrator abruptly turned up to the medium setting. Vibrations were more consistent, making you twitch as you forced a smile on your face.

"The..the weather certainly has been lovely lately," You managed to say, fidgeting a little realizing your panties were soaked and clinging to your pussy.

"Are you okay?" Your relative asked. They thought you were in distress, but it was quite the opposite.

"N-No, I am fine. Just a little-" You were cut off suddenly, the setting on the vibrator suddenly switched to the highest setting. Struck breathless, you tried to continue your conversation, but in the end, couldn't. "tired," You concluded, digging your fingernails further into your palm.

You couldn't exactly say what was going on. That your step brother had his favorite vibrator inside of you, teasing you. That all you wanted was for him to bend you over and fuck you raw.

You excused yourself, your plate of food forgotten. You bit back a whimper, rubbing your thighs together, trying to concentrate on anything. Your eyes always went right to Scaramouche, who was leaning back casually in his chair, his phone in one hand while the other played with the controller in his pocket. The little shit was casually playing a phone game while he teased you.

The vibrator turned to the lowest setting again, right when you were about to cum. Scaramouche knew the way your body twitched all too well. You were a mess, panting a little as you tried not to squirm in your chair. The vibrations were back to being soft and teasing. Barely there, making it torture since you'd been denied.

You move your hips a little hoping to coax the tip of the vibrator more against your sweet spot, but to no avail. Taking a deep breath, you escaped inside the house. You couldn't have anyone see you start to fall apart like this.

You could feel his smirk on your back as Scaramouche watched you dart into the house. You barely made it into your room. Fuck it if the vibrator was still on the lowest setting. You didn't care. If you could make yourself cum just once then maybe you'd be able to handle yourself back down at the family gathering.

Scaramouche got the intoxicating view of you spreading your legs and moving your soaked panties aside. "Couldn't handle it anymore, huh? How pathetic."

You jumped, your fingers barely grazing your engorged, and throbbing clit. Hearing him call you pathetic made your walls clamp tight around the vibrator. "You were right. I..I couldn't handle it," You swallowed back a moan, the look in your eyes one of frantic arousal.

"Hm? What did you say?" Scaramouche twirled the remote control between his fingers. Your eyes zeroed on his thumb hovering over the button, "repeat that, kitten. I was what?" He pressed the button.

You let out a frustrated sigh, your fingers shaking as they tried to find your clit. "Fine, fine, you were right. I.. I couldn't handle it," Moans you struggled to swallow back were starting to come out.

Scaramouche made sure the door was closed before he crawled onto your bed. "Good girl, it pleases me to hear you say that," He loves how your eyes lit up from the slightest words of praise from him. "Does my precious girl want her step brother to get her off?" He purred teasingly.

Your body immediately melts as Scaramouche turned the vibrator up to the highest setting. His cock pulsed seeing your juices ooze out around the vibrator as he started to fuck it in and out of you.

He knew he couldn't keep you up here long. But there was nothing saying later that night, he couldn't watch you use it while you took his cock down your throat.

[kumkaniudaku]

Had Me At Hello

Summary: Terry and Patrice meet for the first time.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Francis Edwards High School was a pristine, two-story jungle filled with Cumberland County's most gifted teenagers. From the first bell at 7 AM until the final ding at 2:30 PM, impenetrable cliques and established hierarchies ruled the hallways, classrooms, and bustling cafeteria, turning the already daunting task of making friends into a nearly impossible uphill battle.

A new school year was nothing more than a formality for returning students. Friend groups were locked in. Moving up and down the sacred social ladder was a tall task many dared not undertake. Seniors looking to make a name for themselves before walking across the stage concocted grand plans to achieve legendary status. Incoming freshmen were given the golden opportunity to shed their image from middle school and step into brand new skin if they were lucky. 

By mid-October of his freshman year, Terrence Richmond felt like he'd cracked high school's code. A massive growth spurt throughout eighth grade shot him up from a slight 5'7" to a respectable 5'11", aiding his first-string wide receiver campaign. Sure, he was brand new to the team and coming behind an all-state senior plus two juniors making waves in their own right, but stranger things had happened. One twisted ankle or subpar progress report, and he'd be well on the way to becoming the big man on campus.

While student-athletes gathered to work through math problems and critical thinking questions in factions during study hall, Terrence used his binder to deflect jagged paper balls aimed at his forehead from his teammate and lifting buddy, Robert.

"Bro, chill," Terrence laughed before chucking the piece of trash back in Robert's direction. "I'm trying to do my homework. You should be, too, by the way!"

Robert turned his nose up and scoffed. "Why? Get somebody to do it for you." He gestured toward a library full of students, then looked back at Terrence. "Pick somebody. Shit, ask one of your teachers. You on the football team. Your job is to play football." 

"Yeah, okay," Terrence scoffed. "Try tellin' my mama that. If she found out I had people doin' my work, she'd kick my ass. Then tell my daddy, and they would kick my ass together." 

"At least you got a dad. I'm still waiting on mine to get back from the store. It must take a long time to get cigarettes." 

Their goofy, loud laughter eclipsed a spirited conversation between the senior defensive core, earning attention neither of them cared to have. 

While being on the team shielded Terrence from the dog-eat-dog world of high school civilian life, it wasn't enough to escape the internal politics governing a rowdy bunch of teenage boys. 

The pecking order was clear and meant to go unchallenged. Seniors commanded starting roles, leaving everyone else to fight for crumbs until their time came to rise up the ranks. Most underclassmen accepted the natural order of things. Eventually, an opportunity would arise, and they'd run with it. But Terrence didn't have time to wait. Four years wasn't long enough to play safe. He had his sights set on NFL glory. And, while his coaches found his ambition honorable, young men three years his senior considered Terrence a threat to stability. 

Scowling, the starting defensive back directed his ire toward Terrence and Robert. "Fuck is so funny?" 

“Nothin’!” Robert's quick response made Terrence roll his eyes. Robert's deer-caught-in-headlights gaze darted back to his friend, softening his brown eyes into apologetic saucers. He mumbled a timid, "Sorry." as an apology.

For Terrence, backing down wasn't an option. Even if it was, he couldn't imagine a universe in which his father's stern lesson about standing up for yourself wouldn't haunt him for all eternity. 

He shrugged as cooly as he could as he leaned back in his chair. "Homework, Drew. You wanna talk about your's too, since you still in ninth- grade algebra with us? Let us help you, bro. We a team." 

Raucous laughter at his expense made Drew shrink back in embarrassment. His intelligence, or lack thereof, wasn't a secret, but it also wasn't a line anyone dared cross. Unfortunately for him, Terrence had no reverence for tired rules.  

Anger turned Drew's ears and nose red as he considered turning a light spat into a physical altercation. Terrence sat up straight to answer his adversary's unspoken challenge, narrowing his lids into slits and tightening his jaw repeatedly. His fists sat balled in his lap, clenching and unclenching in preparation. If things took a turn for the worst, his readiness was paramount. What he lacked in size, he could make up in speed. Either that or he'd have to deal with his father when all was said and done. He chose to take his chances. 

Sensing a fight on the other side of harmless jokes, one of the senior linemen with a soft spot for Terrence's fearlessness stepped in. 

"Alright, D, he busted yo ass. Let it go, man." Demarcus laughed before gripping his friend's shoulder to push him back into his seat. "Aye, Terry, you gotta chill. You a freshman. Be cool sometimes." 

"It's Terrence. Not Terry." 

Demarcus waved off Terrence's correction. "It's Terry, nigga. We already got a Terrence," he mentioned, pointing to a junior safety at the far end of the table. "Now, if y'all wanna fight about it, we can set something up after practice." Terrence eyed his older namesake, sizing him up before making a business decision. His father also taught him to pick his battles wisely. Demarcus took Terry's silence as an answer and continued. "Exactly. Now, move yo skinny ass out the way so we can see ol' girl behind you."

Catcalls and lewd whistling rippled around three tables pushed together to make one as young men coursing with raging hormones leaned over to get a glimpse of the new girl. 

Long-legged and umber-skinned, she stood out in a room full of semi-familiar faces. Everyone at Francis attended school together at some point. Schoolyard bonds followed most students from pre-k to graduation, turning each schoolyear into a reunion of sorts. She, however, was different, fresh, and mysterious. 

Dark brown pressed hair pulled into a low ponytail showed off high cheekbones and piercing eyes. Plump lips drooping into a slight frown told anyone wondering she wasn't interested in too many long conversations. A thin frame sporting naturally lean muscle might trick a less perceptive person into believing she was an athlete. The handwritten 'Francis Edwards Book Club' sign hanging crooked behind her head told a different story. She was a serious scholar with little time for public school games. 

"Damn! She gotta be from outta town." One player commented after blowing the girl a kiss and receiving an annoyed eye roll in return.

Another boy added his two cents to the mix. "I heard she transferred from some private school. Catholic girl or something like that." 

"You know how the Catholic school girls get down. Straight nasty."

Crass comments, growing increasingly inappropriate, turned into nothing more than background chatter while Terry stared at the only person worth existing as far as he was concerned. 

Patrice Ellis. He'd seen the back of her head in one of his classes, not knowing the beauty hidden on the other side. She always smelled like the cocoa butter his mom used to keep his baby sisters moisturized. In class, she was quiet and observant. He liked hearing her answer questions and sometimes jotted her responses as notes in case they were hit with a pop quiz or he needed a reminder during his study time. 

Seeing Patrice quietly adjust stacks of paper while waiting for anyone to interact with her table nearly stole all of the air from Terry's lungs. He couldn't look away. He didn't want to look away. She had his undivided attention.

Until a grating voice spouting crude nonsense forced him to rejoin the conversation. 

"Bet $15 I can't take her down before Christmas break." 

Demarcus extended his arm toward Drew for a handshake agreement, a disbelieving look settling on his face. "I'll bet you $20 you won't go over there and talk to her right now." 

"Who won't? Man, stop playing with me!" 

"Do it then!" 

Terry's eyes darted between the two seniors, syncing to his rising heartbeat. Everything in him wanted to stay out of their antics. He begged his legs to stop bouncing, trying to negotiate with his brain to let go of the stupid idea it'd concocted. Mind your business. Make a good impression. Don't step on any toes. Sit down, Terry.

A hush fell over the group while they watched everyone's favorite mouthy frosh jam books and papers into his backpack before taking long strides toward the neatly decorated folding table by the library's entrance. 

Patrice noticed his lanky body standing out in the crowd like a car wash inflatable with adorable curls forming a dense afro. His eyes, beautiful round orbs of sea green and honey, bore into hers like he owed her a tongue-lashing for something she couldn't remember. They sat near each other in third-period algebra. Maybe her constant pencil tapping was more of a distraction than she thought. 

Then he smiled. Full lips beneath a wispy mustache smoothly slid into a bright, teeth-baring grin to show off all his pearly whites. His nose scrunched, and his eyes crinkled on the side, betraying the intensity he'd displayed only seconds prior. 

Breathtaking. Patrice rushed to busy her mind and hands, hoping his attention-stealing grin was meant for someone she couldn't see and that he'd stroll right past her into the hallway. 

A shadow the size of a beanstalk appeared over her navy blue tablecloth and spoke to her in a soft, small voice. "Are y'all still accepting sign-ups?" 

Most of what he said was lost in the chaos of students transitioning out of the room for their respective sports obligations, forcing Patrice to finally look up. Terry stood before her, still smiling, his eyes expectant and curious as he looked down at her. 

"I'm sorry, you have to speak up. I didn't…I didn't hear what you said."

"Oh. I-" Terry stopped short to clear his throat. "I just asked if y'all were still accepting sign-ups. Because I'd like to, um, join…if I can. Are you in the club?"

"Wouldn't be sitting here if I wasn't." 

Terry nervously adjusted his heavy bookbag on his arm. "Right. My bad." He pointed at the sign-up sheet. "Can I?"

Patrice cocked her head to one side. "You sure? I figure you'd wanna join math club since you're so good at it. Or literally anything else. Didn't think you were the reading type." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Terry watched Patrice pluck a pen from her advisor's mug and slide it across the table to him. When she didn't answer, he pressed again. "Why'd you say that?" 

"Say what?" 

He bent over to scribble his last name into the appropriate box. "That you didn't think I'd be the reading type. Why?" 

"Because you hang around a bunch of idiots," Patrice sassed as she nodded behind him to a table of boys jeering in the background. 

Terry tried to contain his smile at how adult she was despite not looking much older than his fourteen years, instead fighting to keep his brow furrowed in feigned confusion. "What does that have to do with me, though? You think I'm an idiot?" 

"Birds of a feather flock together. I've heard some things." 

Stories of hazel eyes and broad shoulders kept young girls from 9th to 12th-grade giggling amongst themselves whenever news got around that Terry was in the vicinity. He took the ogling in stride with the guys, sending diplomatic waves to googly-eyed young women like the second coming of President Obama. But, privately, the new attention overwhelmed him. He wasn't sure how to exist in his body or navigate the sudden drop in his voice. 

Patrice only knew unconfirmed rumor mill pieces of information. Terry was dating multiple girls in the ninth grade. Terry had a girlfriend at a school across town. Terry was an asshole. Terry this, Terry that. She couldn't keep up and preferred to steer clear of this Terry character. Still, there he was, standing in front of her and expecting an explanation for an offhanded comment she desperately wanted to move past. 

"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Nobody ever told you that?" Terry's eyes flickered up to Patrice's to find her making a face as she rolled her eyes. 

She kissed her teeth. "Yeah, they did, and it's stupid. How else will I decide to pick a book if I don't judge its cover first?"

"Okay, well, what if I judged you?" He paused to make space for Patrice's rebuttal, but one never came. He continued. "In class, you don't talk and scrunch your face up at everybody. You bring your lunch to school instead of goin' through the line like the rest of us and rush down the hallway like you're late for something every day. What if I said you thought you were better than us because you came from private school?" 

"You'd be wrong. I just… haven't been able to fit in yet," Patrice countered. "And who told you I came from a private school?"

Terry chuckled. "I'm judging you by your cover. And the St. Pius pin you keep on your backpack." He pointed toward the white and gold crest pinned to the left strap of her orange Jansport, then gave her a sympathetic smile. "You miss your friends. I get it. I would, too. But, if you wanna make some new ones that aren't teachers, you can't be so mean all the time." 

"You don't know me," she countered in defiance. 

"I want to." 

Terry didn't know what made him make such a bold declaration. He wasn't usually so forward or willing to converse with strangers. This stranger, in all her beauty and endearing sass, was different. She'd drawn him in with little more than a slight scowl, which he knew was only a defense mechanism to ward off unserious would-be suitors. He wasn't them, though. He never said anything he didn't mean. 

Capping the pen, Terry smiled, handed Patrice her utensil, and slid the paper back to her. "I'm Terrence, by the way. Or Terry. Either works." 

"Which one do you prefer?" 

"Um, Terrence…I think." 

She smiled, finally showing her teeth, before giggling. "You think? Which name do you like more?" 

"Terrence," he answered as he returned her smile. "Call me Terrence." 

"Okay, Terrence." Terrence. Patrice wanted to repeat his name again and again to feel the easy cadence roll of her tongue. Instead, she extended her hand for him to grab and shake. Terry gently took hold of her fingers, forgetting to finish the process until Patrice initiated it for him. "Welcome to the club. I'm –" 

He cut her off, still holding on long after they'd completed the simple formality. "Patrice. I know. Nice to meet you." Slowly, he released her hand, immediately creating a void she wished he'd fill again. A short laugh escaped past Terry's lips before he adjusted his backpack again and prepared to walk away. "Guess I'll see you during free block next Wednesday? Maybe you can get to know me for yourself instead of making all those assumptions." 

"Yeah. Maybe." 

A final once-over helped Terry and Patrice commit each other's faces to memory before Terry backed his way out of the library and temporarily out of her life. 

As easily as her new connection's effortless cool calmed heightened anxiety, his associated band of buffoons infiltrated her serene bubble with their unique brand of foolish behavior. They filed out of the library one by one, some making faces and a few more spouting garbage in passing. Idiots, just as she thought.

When they were out of dodge, and the library was back to the quiet, safe haven she loved, Patrice looked back down at the sheet of paper with one name neatly written in slender, slanted print. Her index finger traced each letter as she tried to relive the smile and soft voice attached to the name she'd never forget. 

Terrence Richmond. A beautiful cover to a book she hoped to read from front to back one day.

--------

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[threepandas]

Bad End: Kept Safe

[Art by Miu_A]

You ever give someone advice, knowing full well they aren't going to take it? Even AFTER they have begged and pleaded and WHINED at you, for hours, for it? Even after they poured their heart and soul out to you? And you, a good friend, carefully and tactfully, tried your best to help? LIKE THEY ASKED?

Ever find yourself the designated "run too dramatically weep in the arms off" friend?

I have.

It is hell. I am in hell.

This is my punishment for all those hours I spent reading and playing Otome Isekai junk instead of, I don't know, solving world hunger or something. Because it HAS to be. I am clearly being punished. Repeatedly. By some sort of petty, petty, anime God.

Fuck you too, buddy.

A fresh round of highly dramatic Protagonist sobbing peirces the air. Dear lord, she has a set of lungs on her, does she? It's like an air siren. But more... upset toddler. It was bizarre. I'd LIKED her as a character. I HAD. Bright and cheerful, determined with a good heart. She'd been a bit naive, yes, but she'd grown. Love had changed her for the better.

But THIS?

This was some middle school "he threw away my secret note, that I didn't sign, so that means he HATES MEEEEE~" bullshit. It went on and on and ON! God, it'd been MONTHS! Years!

I made friends with the Protagonist when we were in The Royal Academy. The story's setting. It SHOULD have finished by graduation. SHOULD. HAVE. But DID it? No! This nonsense had spilled into the COURT! The general population! Actual political factions were starting to get involved!

All because my "friend" COULDN'T PICK A MAN.

And she didn't listen. I tried. God, how I TRIED! No matter HOW I phrased "just fucking TALK to them" it didn't get through her dense fucking skull. I tried taking a break. To calm down. She HUNTED ME DOWN with her little Harem of political trainwrecks!

That poor port city STILL has yet to recover from the chaos they unleashed.

I don't... God, I don't even LIKE her anymore. I've just been reduced to her HANDLER. Forced into girlish tea parties devoid of any taste, because no one ELSE will come. Followed by winces and pitying looks by every lady in all of polite society. The sacrifice to keep HER distracted, lest her gaurd dogs decide its a good idea to do something unhinged again.

It's exhausting.

I'm not even listening.

She seems to have worked through her usual cycle of "cry, mope, what about meeeee~, then I going to go be Plucky at them! Tee Hee~♡!". Good, good. You go have fun, you little train wreck. I'm going to go find an actual ADULT to hide behind.

I have my maids change me out of an outfit that, frankly? I am too old for. I am not sixteen. We are not GIRLS, for the heaven's sake. We are WOMEN. It was a cute outfit. I enjoyed wearing it, back when I was physically young enough that it was appropriate. But even THEN... that's the down side of the whole "isekai" thing.

You keep your mental age.

Everyone around you? INFANTS. Fresh faced babies. You are being flirted with by fourteen year olds and? It is DISGUSTING. They can never be anything more then "cute kids" to you. The characters you once thirsted over? Reduced to actual, living, breathing, pre-schoolers.

There's no going back after that. I'll NEVER unsee it. Can only continue to age, even as they simply... grow up. And then? When they started behaving like FOUR YEAR OLDS? Forget it! I'm beginning to share my parents fears I may die single.

At least I have a refuge. A place of SANITY and SENSE.

I grab the imported wine I had purchased. I'd noticed him drink it before on special occasions. Found a tea seller that was willing to also bring some back. Mother LOVED the tea and my friend was going to love the wine, I could just tell.

Cautiously poking my head out of the guest apartments i was staying in, I checked the hall. Left. Right. Left. Thank god. No Protagonist in sight, she hasn't come back yet. Better hurry though.

I walk fast and keep close to the wall. Ducking into alcoves at every new female voice. Passing servants, Nobles, and the occasional Knight either murmur what they know of Protagonist's last known location or politely pretend not to see me. For anyone else, this would be scandalous behavior. For ME? Well... everyone knew EXACTLY why I was being driven to such extremes.

I thankfully reached the governance wing unmolested. It was far quite and none of the pack of fools ever really set foot here. Not ever the ones who were SUPPOSED to be busy learning their future roles as leaders of this country. God, I could only hope the third prince somehow quietly pulls a coup.

Not that I'd SAY that.

The gaurds don't even bother to announce me, I'm here so often. Merely opening the door. I maintain my decorum none the less. JUST long enough for the doors to finally close and I am able to drop my social mask like whipping of my bra after a long day. Oh thank fuuuuuuck. FREEDOM!

A familiar chuckle, like incense smoke, wafts from the second floor of the office.

"Oh my~, so tired?" My friend muses, his voice that ever lilting purr. I hear him closing whatever heavy tome he's currently studying. "And so early in the DAY! Was it the little nuisance again? Surely she must have SOMETHING better to do?"

Gently putting the wine I'm gifting him on his desk, I then throw up my arms. You would THINK! Wouldn't you?! It's an old complaint. And frankly? I'm glad he still let's me vent about it. It HAS to get old. Yet? He let's me complain anyway.

I met the, roughly translated, "Keeper Of The Shield" at one of the Crown Prince's many ridiculous parties. I was dragged along as Protagonist's plus one. Because GOD FORBID she bring one of her suitors! That might lean towards CHOICE! Can't have THAT!

It was an overly dramatic, gaudy, slow motion trainwreck from beginning to end. I? Got very, VERY drunk. I knew I shouldn't. It was wildly inappropriate. But I was HORRIFIED. Hid near the balconies and drank to forget. Contemplating jumping.

Was likely the only one there my age NOT in ten layers of bows and fabric flowers. It was probably why Crevan decide to talk to me. That and the look of abject suffering. He informed that, sadly, the balconies were locked. But if I planned to maim my self to escape, he could probably boost me up enough to reach the upper windows.

I choked on my drink and guffawd like an idiot. It was SUPER flattering. Very pretty. And honestly? The best conversation I'd had in YEARS. He was droll. Witty. Snarky. In just as much hell as I was. We gleefully narrated the drama playing out before us in as cutting a manner as possible. Grown adults, government officals! Behaving like fucking CHILDREN.

Only after, did I learn I had been chatting with the equivalent of the minister of the Defense. THE commander of our nation's defensive forces. All of them. Knights, army, spies. All of it. And the poor man had been dragged from his desk to play party prop by a glorified teenager. I was horrified. Appalled. Fucking OUTRAGED to learn that it was just... normal!

This country was a nightmare! Otome games are HELL. Lacey, sparkly HELL!!!

But at least I had Crevan to keep me sane. He was always willing to listen. Advise when he could. We had HOPED that Protagonist would start maturing... I'd even mentioned it, but it just seemed like she back slid again and again! Trapping me. Isolating me! Ruining my chances to move ON and have a LIFE!

I don't know what went wrong! Is it me? Am I too hand holdy? It's starting to destabilize the country! Not that the royal family even seems to notice! God no, if it weren't for Crevan, the whole PLACE would have collapsed!

I flop down on my couch. Technically it's not "mine", but honestly? He's fooling no one. The man barely had ANY guest furniture before we became friends. It's totally my couch. (He even got a tea table for us, the softy.)

"Oh? A gift? How thoughtful, dear~" It's only months of friendship that keep from jumping these days. I should get that man a BELL. "Would you like some?"

I can't help but huff a laugh. He always looks to PLEASED when he gets the jump on someone. Startles them. A mischievous asshole, that one. Touchy, too. Forever cupping my cheek or earnestly taking my hand. Patting my head. Guiding me by the elbow or shoulder. He has so few friends... I am certain he is touch starved.

A thought occurs to him, as he pours two cups. A sly grin stretching across his face as he turns to offer me a cup. The wine's scent mixes, burning and delicate, with the ever present smells of incense and his favorite herbal cigarettes. Blurring the senses and relaxing. It's a pretty strong drink.

"You KNOW... it just occurs to me! Darling, if you want to avoid that pest? Why not spend the day HERE? I'd love to have you. " his voice becomes low and serious for a moment, almost catching me off gaurd, bouncing back before I can really think about it. "You could trash my shelves again! Camp out on my couches! It'll be like a little party~ Just you and me! Not a care in the world. You won't have to worry a single thing~"

He grins, glasses catching the light, toothy like the old scheming fox he is.

"I'll keep you nice and safe~"

[ddejavvu]

Hey Mei 🫶

Here’s my idea - BAU!wife who yells at Hotch when he yells at their team members because she’s a protective momma bear. And hotch secretly loves it because his wife yelling gets him all hot and bothered.

Love you 🫶 and your writing thank you 🧡

Perhaps it's an unwise idea to pick a fight with your surly husband, especially because he doubles as your surly boss. But Spencer hadn't even been that late, and you know he only walked in late because he takes public transportation, and he couldn't control that the bus was late. And, Aaron's only in such a sour mood because Jack had given him typical teenage attitude before school this morning. So really, Spencer didn't deserve the near-shouted lecture he'd gotten.

You march over to the young doctor's desk, happy that his aversion to touch applies to people he's not familiar with. He leans into your stomach when you pull his head to rest on it, albeit stiffly, and you call after your husband with narrowed, fierce eyes.

"Aaron, come back here right now and apologize." You demand, and the already icy mood in the office shifts a few degrees colder. Aaron stops on the stairs and by the tightness of his shoulders he's composing himself, then he turns on his heel and raises a thick brow at you.

"What?"

"He didn't deserve that," You scold him, keeping Spencer's head cradled to your stomach as you stroke down his back, "He's a baby."

Aaron rolls his eyes, "He is not a baby, Y/N. He's a grown man with a government job, and I expect him to show up to it on time."

"He does! He's early every single other day," You remind him, "But the bus came late today! How was he supposed to get here? Uber? You know he doesn't know how to download new apps! Let alone link his bank account to pay the guy. He was seven minutes late, for fuck's sake, just leave him alone!"

Aaron looks like he wants to snap. You've gnashed your teeth at him, and he's lived the life of a fighting dog thus far, so you know you're treading in dangerous waters. But after a rather intense stare down in which you feel Spencer's face heating up through the fabric of your shirt, your husband swallows his pride and mutters, "I expect you in my office within five minutes, Y/N."

Spencer mumbles some feeble protest on your behalf but you pat his back to shush him, letting go so that he can straighten up again.

"Don't worry," You send him a warm smile, "I can handle him. Call me if you ever need a ride again, okay? We can come pick you up."

"Okay." He nods, but it's most likely only to deter you from pampering him with any more motherly affection, as he looks like he's going to wilt from it, "Thanks, Y/N."

"Anytime," You squeeze his shoulder, passing your concerned teammates unbothered smiles as you make your way to Aaron's office.

He's only recently sat down when you arrive, but you notice that he's conveniently sitting so that the desk blocks your view of his lower half. You stand at attention in front of his desk, playing coy like you don't know what's coming next.

"Do you enjoy questioning my authority in front of my team?" He asks you, voice carefully even and tight.

"I enjoy doing anything that makes your dick twitch, Aaron." You announce, your tone deceptively casual for the filth you're spewing, "Did you haul me in here to fuck me over the desk? The blinds are still open, don't you think that's a little distasteful?"

Your attitude only makes him more uncomfortably aroused, and he regrets getting his suits tailored so precisely, as his pants have little give. He leans forwards across his desk, dark eyes boring into yours.

"No. I hauled you in here to tell you that I'm going to fuck you over the desk. But not yet. You're asking for it now, so I'm not giving it to you. Maybe if you'd been a little more polite, I'd have given you what you wanted. But now you're going to wait, because you decided to bicker with me over the rules of this office. Rules that I set, because I am in charge of keeping this team on track."

The harsh tone of his voice makes your stomach twist, and you're feeling your heartbeat in two places. You stand there, saliva slowly accumulating on your tongue, until he raises a brow at you, unimpressed.

"Don't do that again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." You lay on the formality hot and heavy, practically purring it and watching as he shifts slightly in his seat, "I'll be waiting, whenever you decide you can't take it anymore."

"Careful." He snaps, eyes ablaze at your implication that he'll be the one to break, "Don't dig yourself any deeper. Dismissed."

You turn to leave with a satisfied smirk on your face, and perhaps you exaggerate bending over to pick up a stray paperclip that you notice on the floor by his door.

"Here," You pad back across the room to hand it to him, not missing the way that he's tense all over, "See you in twenty, Hotchner."

[respectthepetty]

GMMTV 2025 - Hot Tops and One Bottom

GMMTV offered up ONE straight show, and even though I'm salty that I didn't get Midnight Museum 2 and despite the current state of the world, I have never been happier to be alive at this exact moment that I'm living in. GMMTV really cemented that it is Disney BL, and said FUCK THEM HETEROS!

As usual, I'm listing what shows I'm most excited to see from GMMTV's annual unveiling, but in order to be fair to the other shows, I will not consider one of the shows in the rankings because I am a Jaidee fan first, and a human second:

Dare You to Death

My boys are giving me ~Murder, Manipulate, Make-Out, and MAYHEM~ so I'm already seated, sat, and sitted. I've always thought Joong should play a character who was insincere and a bit crazy, and Dunk should lean into his haughtiness (emphasis on HOT), so even though all these other shows look great, they aren't JoongDunk trying to solve a murder while trying to not murder each other, and it would be unfair of me to hold that against everyone else. I was going to take whatever I was getting from them, but THIS?! Sorry, to everyone else, but y'all never stood a chance.

#1a - Memoir of Rati

Moment of honesty - Inn and Great are fine as fuck. They are already attractive to begin with, so to put them in a historical drama, of course, I'm going to eat it up. This is a serious piece about political and social tensions which I have no doubts they will carry into getting some awards for it. I was getting worried that these two weren't going to have another show together next year, but not only did GMMTV give them one of the meatier plots, the series also has Aou and Boom in it with an amazing story as well, so this was easily my top choice.

Or at least it was my top choice until . . .

#1b - Ticket to Heaven

Religious trauma aligned with Catholicism is my special brand of queer angst, so this series already has me all the way fucked up. Fourth is such a phenomenal actor and Gemini always acts his ass off, so I know they will have me in a fetal position every single episode clutching my rosary and praying for God's mercy since I'm already in my feelings about this. The heathens in the room better read up on some biblical references because if you thought I was doing too much over a cross necklace in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo and the praying in The Warp Effect, I Saw You in My Dreams, and Marahuyo Project, block me now because that was only the tip of the religious iceberg.

#2 - Cat for Cash

Although I'm a vegetarian, I'm a Disney villain who strongly dislikes animals, yet even I was happy to see First getting advice from cats on how to make coffee and how to win over Khao. This is the FirstKhao romance we have been waiting for! It looks soft and sincere, and even though the plot involves hearing cats, First as the worst debt collector and Khao as a grieving sad boy are their most realistic characters they have ever played. The series also looks like it's going to make me cry, so thank goodness Satang showed up to make sure I would be emotional about every show GMMTV gives me next year.

#3 - That Summer

On the topic of Satang, I'm shocked that I clicked with this trailer. I was ready to write this off as a Hallmark series due to its plot about a prince with amnesia falling in love with a commoner until the trailer revealed that he doesn't have amnesia, and the commoner knows he is a prince. The trailer situated the problem will come from their class differences plus Mond is kissing a homie (in secret), and since I just asked for more series with sad wet boys on the beach, this show goes at the top for GMMTV delivering me something I didn't know I wanted but a show I definitely needed.

#4 - A Dog and a Plane

Tay and New got me by the throat in 2019 and 2024 with Dark Blue Kiss and Peaceful Property, and even when I wanted to be mad at Cherry Magic, I couldn't because these men always sell the hell out of a ship even when they shouldn't. I'm a Jaidee fan first, and a human second, but I'll throw on some polar bear and whale jammies any day to join the Polcas because Tay and New have not disappointed me once in their joint shows or individual shows. So here I am, super duper excited to see New play a GAY flight attendant (a stereotype I love to see) whose man is trying to screw Pun only for Tay to take the hush money yet still catch feelings AND FLIGHTS! Marc's there too, so it's time I was served openly gay men who are trying to join the mile-high club since it's been over a decade since I got Pedro Almodóvar's I'm So Excited.

#5 - My Romance Scammer

I support marriage equality, but I do not believe in the institution of marriage, so I'm thrilled that GMMTV decided to throw me some gay divorce the same year gay marriage was legalized! Next, I'm getting the odd ball couple of Ohm and Fluke with Fluke being a dummy who falls for the first man who is nice to him, only for Marc to think he has a great relationship with Junior, BUT IT'S ALL A SCAM! I will probably end up defending this show with my life because this is the romcom romcoN I deserve!

Side Quest - Tarot Card Series

The theme for this year's announcement was "Riding the Wave" but it should have been "Wheel of Fortune" because there were a lot of shows about destiny and changing the future, so I'm going to rank those in a quick sub-category:

1) My Magic Prophecy

This is the dynamic I want to see from Jimmy and Sea. Jimmy IS a doctor, so getting a clean-cut smarmy version of him will pair so well with muscular Sea being a jerk. I was going to make a quirky comment about how they can now see the future as a reference to Last Twilight, but I'm still salty about that show, so I'll just be happy for them and THIS show.

2) Head 2 Head

I'm excited for the Only Boo kids because I think they should've gotten the My Love Mix-Up remake since I think they do well with being complete opposites that make perfect sense being together. This is also how I found out that Surf from I Saw You in My Dream is now with GMMTV.

So although it was awkward to realize GMMTV had acquired another BL boy under my chismosa nose (am I slipping?), it's nice to see the company staying on brand as Disney BL in its attempt to capture all the Pokemon Avengers BL Boys.

3) Wu

Since I've been watching High School Frenemy through my dash, I know plenty of people will be ecstatic to see Nani and Sky play soulmates, again (because High School Fremeny is gay af!), but I'm showing up because I got the red bracelets of destiny tying the boys together!

The trailers this year were surprisingly lax on the colors, so I'm taking what I can get how I get it. Bring me the RED STRING OF FATE!

4) MU-TE-LUV

This is Club Sapan Fine with a different name so it's going to be campy and messy. But do I think GMMTV will handle fems well? No. Am I pressed about it? Also, no. Because I actually watch AND enjoy Club Sapan Fine, so if GMMTV wants to try its hand at wild wacky camp in an anthology-style series, I'm down to clown, at least for the queer episodes that is.

5) Melody of Secrets

This was originally going to be number three on my Tops List, but as the trailer continued, I got more confused. Then, Force's face blurred and it looked like he got snatched by a demon, so I got scared. Like real scared. I don't eff with los espookys, so I'll be watching this show with the lights on and my Care Bear squad to protect me.

Honorable Mentions

I watch ALL GMMTV queer shows (and even the ones that only I think are queer), so I'll still enjoy something about these shows, but they were just lacking that special razzle dazzle:

Burnout Syndrome

Director Nuchy. Gun in black lipstick. Gun being a sex worker. Off being an asshole. Thor. Poly(?). This should have been my Holy Grail, but I can't believe the show will give me a proper love conflict when OffGun are a branded pair. Also, Nuchy gave me ToddBlack, who I will NEVER be over, so even though I know she can and will give me *THE* toxic couple to root for above all other toxicitos, unless these two are about to drown each other in that bathtub and play Olympic-levels of mind games with each other, I'm reserving my excitement until it airs.

Me and Thee

A soap-opera loving mafioso. Pond in suits with slicked-back hair. Phuwin being beautiful. Santa looking delicious. Est back in his Naughty Babe assistant mode. Perth. COLORS! Just like Burnout Syndrome, on paper it looks like something I would devour, but a third of that trailer was Pond and Phuwin in a bathtub, and in my Michelle Visage voice, "stop relying on that body" even if that's the biggest reason I'll be showing up to watch.

Whale Store

Milk licked cat food off of Love's finger, and I fear this might be too lesbian for me. I don't kink shame, and I'm always down to eat a girl out go down, but cat food? Really, sis? On top of that, this felt like a JittiRain series with Love's character clearly hiding something that is going to hurt Milk's character, then the side couple was crying and making everything awkward. I support the lesbians. I support queer rights AND wrongs. I'll be repeating this even as I'm watching it.

Boys in Love

GMMTV was smart putting all the new kids in a show with Papang x Podd as the little older romance crumbs to keep us satisfied for the time being, but that's also why I'm being petty. If this is the stepping stone for Papang and Podd to be leads for GMMTV 2026, then I'll take what I can get, but I feel like Oliver Twist asking for more porridge, when I should already be getting a damn buffet!

Love You Teacher

This show almost had me in the first half. Sam's character was giving me everything. The premise was solid. Perth was an already gay man in a long-term relationship with his boyfriend. Things were going well even with the accident. Then, the show brought on the real plot --- seven-year-olds. Jesús Cristo. It was a lovely time up until then, and now, just like the cat food, I'm realizing new things about myself and my boundaries on a random Tuesday morning, and I don't like it.

Girl Rules

This is the female version of Only Friends saran wrapped in women's empowerment. No me gusta pero lo voy a ver because I support queer wrongs even when they are oh-so-very wrong.

The Love of Siam: The Musical

What. The. Fuck. But also, sign me up!

Dishonorable Mention - Only Friends 2: Dream On

I've reached new heights in my pettiness because this show is in Petty Prison before it even airs. My blog is a living record of how badly I wanted Minx Mix and Flirty Fluke in the first season of Only Friends. It was the only thing I could think about; then, I ended up hating the first season, so I counted my blessings that Minx Mix only showed up for two whole seconds and Flirty Fluke was nowhere in sight. And now this has happened. This is a lesson in "be careful what you wish for" because I have never been more upset that I finally got what I wanted. Unless the show gives Boston his cake and lets him eat it to, I'm not watching it. Not Minx Mix, Flirty Fluke, or Ohm's body could convince me to do this a second time.

[knockoffheart]

Neuman’s Guard Dog (2/3)

summary: you’ve been kidnapped by your girlfriends dad AND you’re a supe — ay caramba! she’ll come looking for you…right?

warnings: kidnapping, hurt/comfort, graphic descriptions of bodily harm, murder, violence, blood, reader turned supe, body horror, neuman is not a good person (but we still love her), mentions of politics, general ‘The Boys’ show disclaimer, also NO SMUT (rip)

before you read: Reader is aware of Vic's blood powers. NOT aware of Vic's head explosions (ex. congress attack), relationship to Stan Edgar, The Boys (especially Hughie being involved). Sameer and Zoe do not exist in any of my AUs. Reader has been in life-threatening situations before, not a fan of them, but has been in at least two before.

|

Victoria has gotten word of a disturbance in her room, it appears to be another assassination attempt but security assures her it has been handled. The only casualties are the two assailants. They also let her know about reports of a suspicious van outside the premises. She says she’ll handle it from here. Victoria stalks her way towards the van, her heels echo rhythmically into the night. Upon reaching the van, she sends the door flying open, startling the man inside.

“Hey, Hughie” Victoria taunts.

“Fuck me!” Hughie shoots up, flailing his arms wildly.

“Sheesh– Jumpy tonight, are we? Looks like your lil’ CIA guys got busted…” Victoria dawns a smug grin,  “She make quick work of them?”

“Quick work? Jesus Christ, you’re fucking evil! I can’t believe you’d do that to her. Really, that’s low…. even for you.”

Victoria chuckles, “Evil? I’m not the one who attacked her, am I? You sent those fuckers in there to kill me — and they paid for it. Without me giving her V, she’d be dead! And whose fault would that be?”

      “Oh that’s fucking rich! I mean, this was your plan all along now wasn’t it?” Hughie accuses, “Getting close to her so you can turn her into your fucking guard dog?!”

“That’s not-” Victoria unintentionally lets out a strained laugh, “You know that isn’t true, I love her. You know I do.”

“Do you?” Hughie laughs in disbelief, “Have you even been up there? Seen what she’s done? She’s a fucking monster.”

“She-” Victoria stammers and is cut off by Hughie.

“She ripped out a guy’s neck, Vic, with her teeth!” he shouts. “You have fucking ruined her… and you don’t even care!”

“I-”

“Do you even know where she is right now?”

Victoria doesn’t respond. She has no idea where you are right now– it hasn’t even crossed her mind until this moment. Her eyes narrow and she glares at Hughie.

“Where is she?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh, now you care-”

“I’m not going to ask you again. Where is she?” She grips the side of the van in an attempt to control her bubbling temper.

Hughie shakes his head in disbelief. He turns to his computer and clicks through security cam footage, looking to see where you might have run off to. He watches video of you walking into the alley.

“Oh shit…”

He taps his leg anxiously and turns screen towards Victoria. The footage shows a Vought Security van pulling up next to the alley. Several armed men get out, one of them holds a tranquilizer in their hand. The screen goes still for a few beats before the men reappear, dragging your limp body to the van and throwing it in. The clip ends with the van peeling off into the night. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit-“ Victoria backs up, the back of her head hits the barrel of Butcher’s gun. Surprise.

“And that’s all the help you’ll be getting from us.” Butcher mutters and pulls the trigger. BANG! 

Unaffected, Victoria cracks her neck and turns around, “All I needed.” 

Victoria heads away from the van and pulls out her phone, dialing Stan Edgar once she’s back inside the hotel. The call goes to voicemail and she rings again as she rides the elevator up to your room’s floor. Voicemail again. She swears and shoves the phone into her pocket. There is a “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging from the room’s doorknob. Victoria inserts the room’s card anyway and pushes the door open.

She reels back from the sight and smell that wafts from the room. A rustling in the kitchen draws her in. She holds her breath and carefully steps over the strewn organs and pools of blood. She eyes the bloody handprint on the wall and hovers her hand over it. It’s yours. Her stomach churns and she pulls her hand away. There’s no denying it who made this mess anymore. She moves towards the kitchen and is startled by the cleaning crew, they are clad in Vought Tech coveralls. They pay her no mind and continue schlepping various body parts into black trash bags. She decides there is nothing more to see and attempts to dial Stan again, but is halted by an extremely stressed congresswoman.

“Ms. Neuman! Oh thank god, counting is about to wrap up — they’ve called Arizona, you and Singer are up! Let’s go, they’re waiting!” 

The woman grabs her arm and hauls Victoria to the elevator, who forces a smile though her annoyance still trickles through her eyes. She manages to send Stan Edgar one hurried text before being dragged into the lobby full of mingling congressmen. 

‘WHERE IS SHE’ read 8:07pm

-

You wake up in a room clad in all white. Your body rests against the cool laminated floor, intense white light shines above. You let out a soft groan as you raise steady yourself into a seated position. As you go to move hair out of your eyes, your arms jerk back and you notice your wrists are tied together with a chain. The chain leads back to the wall. You shake your head quickly and rise to your feet. A louder groan escapes you when you’re finally steady. You feel like you’ve been hit by a bus. Your mind is groggy and the harsh fluorescents on the ceiling don’t help you one bit. Your stomach lurches from the overwhelming scent of blood, your kidnappers didn’t bother with hosing you down.

The events of the hotel room run around in your mind. You remember the ringing in your ears, from the gun fire, the screams. The bullets digging their way into your skin, some flying clean through while others burrowed within. You remember the blood. The smell, the taste, the feeling of all that fucking blood.

You’re a quivering, crying mess. It’s all just too much! You’re supposed to be at some eccentric bar nursing your third cocktail, cuddled up next to Victoria. Her arm would be wrapped around you, you’d be laughing and people would be saying ‘Vic, How could you hide this one from us?’. She’d kiss you and you’d smile at the taste of the liquor on her lips — the feeling of her lipstick staining your mouth. You wouldn’t have to hide anymore.

Instead, you’ve returned to a crumpled heap on the ground, burying your face into your arms. You hurt everywhere, you’ve killed two people, you’ve turned into a fucking monster and you don’t even know where you are! You pinch your hand, trying to wake yourself up from a dream. A few weak sobs sputter from you as you feel the primal fear from before creeping its way up your spine. You murmur calming words to yourself, stopping abruptly when you hear footsteps clicking towards you.

You fly back against the wall, using it to steady yourself on two feet. Your eyes are saucers as you keep your sights trained on the door. You hold your breath as it creaks open.

Victoria appears in the doorway, her red coat contrasts with the stark exterior of the hall. Her eyes are nearly as wide as yours. She rushes you, pulling you into her arms and dropping to her knees. You heave a giant breath of relief, a flood of cries follow. She cups your cheeks and places a kiss on your lips. Victoria cradles you close to her and shouts an order at someone behind her.

Suddenly, the chains clink off your wrists and work their way back to the wall. You have so much you want to say to Victoria, but all you can manage to do is cry her name.

“It’s okay baby, I know” she helps you to your feet and leads you outside the cell, “You’re okay, I’m here now. I’m here.”

“Vic-“ you choke out.

“Shh, let’s get you clean first, okay?” her voice is trembling.

-

Victoria wraps a plush towel around your body, she grabs a smaller cloth and dabs your face try.

“Vic, I can-“

“Let me take care of you, baby.” Victoria hushes you, she is sweet in her actions but her voice is stern.

She’s spiraling and taking care of you is the only thing stopping her from teetering over the edge. She’s hid so much from you and now it’s all staring back at her. She will figure out a plan later, she always does. What matters to her right now is that you’re safe. She holds you close to her, squeezing you tight against her figure.

You blush at the feeling of your mostly nude body being pressed against Victoria’s fully clothed one. You lean your head back against her and flash a foolhardy grin. She returns a softer smile, but her grip remains firm.

“Victoria, A word please?” a man’s voice calls from outside the bathroom.

Victoria turns you towards her and pulls you in to a deep kiss, then peppers your whole face in smaller kisses.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” Victoria assures before planting one final kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be right outside.”

You feel a protest rise to the tip of your tongue but you hold it. You slip on the clothes Victoria provided you with, it’s a large sweater and some flannel pajama pants. Your face flushes with embarrassment at the thought of you and Vic standing next to each other. She’s dressed in a perfectly pressed suit and killer heels, you look like a bum. A comfy bum. You hum to yourself as you kick your feet into the pair of slippers Victoria left near the bathmat. Who would have thought this kidnappers lair would have such nice amenities. The conversation outside the door grows louder and you can’t help but eavesdrop.

“What have you done to that girl?” the man reprimands.

You can’t make out Victoria’s response, only able to decipher that it isn’t a pleasant one.

“You know I will always be here for you, I have your best interests at heart, always.” The man’s voice always remains calm, “If she isn’t in your best interest, you know what I have to do.”

That sounded like a threat. You decide to go back to minding your own business. You lift up your shirt and examine your torso, it’s coated in black and blue bruises but you see no scars. You graze a finger over it and wince, it’s incredibly tender. Victoria enters and you let your shirt drop, focusing your attention back on her. She approaches you and takes your hand, pulling you against her. You look over her shoulder and catch the man she was talking to as he walks away. You recognize him as Stan Edgar, the CEO of Vought. Uh oh.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, there’s a car around back for us.” Victoria says before guiding you through the building.

You discover you were housed in the basement of a skyscraper. It is hugged by several other buildings, you don’t recognize any of them. A black SUV waits for you as you head towards the street. Victoria opens the door for you and you hop inside, she pulls you against her so your head rests on her shoulder. When the car pulls away your body relaxes and you feel exhausted, you intertwine your fingers with Victoria’s and take in her scent.

You jolt up, “The election! Shit! Did you win? You need to be the-“

Victoria laughs and kisses your hand, “We won.”

You let out a soft, yet giddy squeal and squeeze her hand, “Holy shit!! You’re incredible!” You stare at the clock ahead of you and bounce your leg anxiously.“It’s only 1:00am, maybe you can still make it back to the party?”

She gives you a confused look, “I’m not going to any party. We’re going home.”

You smile at her softly and nuzzle back into her. Your heavy eyes finally close and you doze off.

-

When you awake, you look outside the window and recognize the street you’re on as your own. Victoria helps you out of the car and into the house. Your body melts at the familiar smell of home, it reminds you of the first night you moved in. You reach the bedroom and plop yourself onto the bed. You look up to see why Victoria hasn’t joined you — she’s leaned against the doorway, crying.

“Vic?“ you sit up and motion for her to sit with you. “Talk to me, honey.”

Victoria bites down on her nails and stumbles over to the bed. She doesn’t touch you until you place your hand on her thigh, then she throws her arms around you and sobs into your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry-“ she cries. “I shouldn’t have- I’m so-“ she chokes on her words.

You stroke her hair and kiss her head.

“I know. Vic, I told you-“ you press another kiss against her head, “I told you I’d do anything for you —I will. I always will. I love you.”

Victoria raises her head and kisses you desperately, you both crash into the soft, pillowy mattress and continue your embrace. She mutters how much she loves you and slides her hands around your waist.

“If anyone touches you again, I’ll fucking kill them”

You laugh at her as she attacks your neck with kisses and bites. You hope she’s joking, but with this new presidential power — she might not be.

|

> back

> next

authors note: yeah there’s gonna be a part three i need them to have sex right neowww!!! also this is a 4:00am post I REPEAT A 4:00am post! it’s been proof-read once — any mistakes will be fixed when i wake up thank yewww

[tips]

[cressidagrey]

Recipe for Love - Peach Cobbler

Summary:

Azriel finds a bakery and creates his very own reward system.

Warnings:

Kinda Rhys Bashing, but when don't I do that?

A/N:

thanks to @k-godling for listening to me rambling on about this and finding the perfect name for that Bakery! This will eventually be a series consisting out of One-Shots, so if you have an idea, shoot it my way! (Also, if anybody actually tries out that recipe, let me know lol)

Peach Cobbler Filling 2 ½ cups sliced canned peaches ¾ cup canned peach syrup ¼ cup brown sugar (packed) 1 ½ tablespoons cornstarch Few grains salt Dough 1 tablespoon granulated sugar ⅛ teaspoon baking soda 1 cup prepared biscuit mix (or your own biscuit recipe) ⅓ cup cultured sour cream 2 to 3 tablespoons milk (if needed)  Sweet or sour cream for topping

Place peaches in bottom of casserole. Mix peach syrup, brown sugar, cornstarch and salt. Pour over peaches. Set casserole in hot oven, while mixing dough. Stir sugar and soda into biscuit mix. Add cream and milk to make soft dough; mix lightly. Place by spoonfuls on top of hot peaches. Bake 30 to 35 minutes until well browned. Serve warm with sweet or sour cream. 

The Spymaster of the Night Court was contemplating killing his High Lord. 

Or maybe it was Azriel contemplating killing his brother. 

Maybe it was both. 

Whatever it was, Azriel was definitely mentally planning Rhys’ tragic demise as he trudged his way through Velaris. 

It wasn’t the first time he had done it. Wouldn’t be the last time either. 

He would never actually go through with it. 

(Probably.)

Regardless of how annoying Rhys was… regardless of how the words of last Winter Solstice were still echoing in his head. 

Alone the thought of a pleasure hall made him want to throw up these days, after all.  

He didn’t. Azriel knew better than that. 

It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. 

It was his own fault for allowing himself to fall in love with a mated female. It was his own fault for thinking that maybe he had a chance…for thinking that maybe…

He had never had a chance. Pretending otherwise wasn’t going to help him. 

Rhys had made himself clear months ago and then had done the same again today…today when Lucien had asked Elain to dinner and she had agreed. 

Of course, she had agreed. Azriel had taken himself out of the running months ago. 

Azriel had followed his High Lord’s order to the letter. 

Azriel had done everything that was asked of him, even when it had broken his fucking heart and left him…desolate. 

And as a thank you, he got Rhys’ crooning in his mind that See, Az? They worked things out. 

They had. Good for them. 

The food had tasted like ash in his mouth and he hadn’t managed to get down more than half a plate. Not more before he had excused himself, citing unrest in Spring…and had walked out of the River House without even properly seeing where he was going. 

Away. Far, far away. 

He had half a mind to let the shadows take him away. Maybe somewhere deep in the Illyrian Steppes, where there was no being anywhere near him. Where he could throw his magic at a mountain and destroy some rocks with the fury that embered deep within him…

You should get a treat! The shadows told him brightly at that moment, nearly making him stumble. 

What?

Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him. 

The more forlorn he got, the more depressed…the more optimistic they became. The more they tried to get him to smile…the more they fed him with petty gossip included in their intelligence gathering… the more they did everything to make his life easier for him. 

They were trying. 

It was sweet.

I am not a dog, he grumbled back to them. He wasn’t. 

And besides…he didn’t deserve a treat anyway. For what? Doing his job? Surviving another week? Not killing Rhys during lunch that day? Not wringing Lucien’s neck for politely asking Elain to dinner? Not scratching out somebody’s eyes like a rabid…

Of course not, Master, the shadows agreed easily. You should still get a treat. Something nice, just for yourself. 

Something nice, just for yourself, he turned these words around in his head. 

He did have a lack of that in his life, but then he always had. He had never really had started to amass anything…collect anything…no little things to litter his rooms with…not even as much as a hobby, unless one called insomnia and stabbing the practice puppets in the House of Wind until they were reduced to rubble that. 

All of it was just…his job was his life and that was it. 

And it wasn’t like he deserved it anyway. 

Just like he didn’t deserve a mate, didn’t deserve Mor and didn’t deserve Elain…He didn’t deserve a fucking treat either. 

He clearly didn’t deserve anything that made his life easier. 

There’s this little bakery, the shadows proposed quietly. You could buy yourself a slice of cake! 

A slice of cake. A slice of cake before flying back to the House of Wind, barricading himself into his room and writing another report. 

A slice of cake before he would let the loneliness take over completely…before he would never even allow himself to look at any female ever again because he was not going to go through this pain again. 

Being a little bit overdramatic, Master? the shadows asked him with a sigh and he wanted to growl. 

No. No, actually, not really. 

Why shouldn’t he be overdramatic? 

At least in his own damn mind. It wasn’t like he was throwing that into anybody’s faces. Even when he had wanted to. He had wanted to scratch that smug little smile off Rhys’ face with his bare hand and…

You don’t, Master, the shadows sighed. You didn’t even want us to steal his favourite jacket. 

They had offered. They had offered to make Rhys’ life filled with annoying inconveniences. Azriel had said no after that Winter Solstice. Now he was reconsidering it. 

The problem was just that it wasn’t going to make him happy. 

The shades would be petty and that would be it, but he wouldn’t…it wouldn’t make him feel better. 

He would still feel unfairly treated…he would still feel always pushed to the edges of his family…the one whose emotions didn’t really matter…who’s happiness wasn’t a priority, not even a footnote, set firmly behind whatever was good for the court and that was that. 

He was the one send to do the dirty work, the one expected to deal with it, because clearly it didn’t bother him… which was a lie. Of course, it bothered him. But his skillset made him the obvious choice so…

Mor and whatever these 5 centuries had been…Mor who could have outright turned him down when he had yearned for her and had never bothered to do so. He was still waiting for her to do it. Even now. 

His hands clenched slowly, the scars feeling tighter. Autumn was coming…as soon as the leaves began to turn, the joints started to hurt him. 

They have double chocolate chip cookies, the shadows whispered like it was a state secret. He couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. 

Sugar was his one weakness. 

The shadows knew that. 

It would just be a few copper coins…maybe a silver one or two…his steps faltered.

One slice of cake? As a treat? Just a few minutes sat in one quiet corner of a bakery…alone. With just his shadows…that did sound…nice. 

As a treat for not killing Rhys, Azriel proposed. and for not doing anything, saying anything…for keeping his temper in check. 

He could work with that, right? 

It could be his very own reward system. One slice of cake for…for surviving another week. For not faltering. For not scratching anybody’s eyes out…for not loosing his temper and go into the illyrian Steppes and destroy a small mountain in a fit of rage. 

Huh. 

Maybe the shadows were onto something.

One shadows wrapped himself around his wrist and started tugging him along and Azriel followed. 

Down the bustling streets of Velaris, towards the outskirts of the Rainbow. 

There, Beehive Bakery took up the ground floor of a brownstone Townhouse…a yellow and white striped awning stretching over the length of it. It’s name was screamed from it’s sign above the door that was pushed open, quiet but lively conversation reaching his ears from within. There were three tables outside, filled with people, but as he walked into the shop, careful to tuck his wings into his body…there were still one or two tables left. Even one right there in one corner. 

It smelled heavenly in there…like vanilla and almond, wafting out of the oven thet must be in the backroom…a young High Fae was manning the till. She looked young. More a teen than anything, dark curly hair covering her head…Her limbs hadn’t yet lost all their coltish length. 

“Welcome to Beehive Bakery, what can I get you?” she asked him with more enthusiasm than  he had seen in a long, long time. 

For a moment, he came up short, eyes roving over the baked goods laid out behind the glass of the counter…and then finally snagging on the first cake in front of him…Peach Cobbler. It looked…great with a golden brown crust…there was one slice missing so he could see the perfect orange of carefully sliced peaches peeking out. 

“One Slice of Peach Cobbler, please,” he requested. 

“Coming right up,” she chirped brightly. “Some tea as well?” 

Azriel answered in the affirmative, quietly charmed by her sheer enthusiasm…A few moments later he exchanged a couple of silver coins for a plate holding a slice of peach cobbler, topped with a dollop of cream and a delicate teacup. 

He took both to the table he had sussed from the beginning. Clearly the worst place in the whole shop…but for his usage, it was perfect.

 The darkest corner, right in the back…covered in shadows…nobody would be able to peek at anything if he did choose to read some reports…and nobody could surprise him from the back. 

It was perfect. 

Perfect was also the only word he could imagine for that Peach Cobbler. Quite frankly it was best thing he had ever eaten. Tart but Sweet…and the topping crumbling and the peaches ooey gooey…it was so good it was startling. He could just get a teeny tiny bit of cinnamon in there…

Alone that Peach Cobbler had been worth every single coin. 

By the first forkful, he felt likes osmehting in his chest was easing. By the time he was left with only a third of it he was already dreading to finish the whole piece, because then it would be gone. 

And that just didn’t seem fair. 

He watched the people entering and then leaving again, some just coming for a single loaf of bread, some of them buying pastries or slices of cake to go…some sat down with a friend and conversed with them…The Beehive Bakery seemd to be a quietly buzzing hub of Velaris. 

The young girl behind the counter was busy fulfilling orders and smiling at every customer, some that called her by her name, Juniper. 

Halfway through the afternoon, a new female joined her behind the yonder. This one older, much tinier, her body filled out with lush curves…Blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, held back by a handkerchief. 

“Done for the day?” she asked Juniper, and Azriel watched silently how she nearly absentmindedly fluttered around the space, replacing empty displays and generally making sure everything was in order. 

“I can stay if you need me, B,” Juniper said quickly but the blonde female waved her off, handing her a envelope from one of the pockets in her frilly pink apron. It had strawberries all over it, Azriel realised with some amusement. Juniper took the envelope, opened it to sneak a peek and then stared at her again. 

“That’s too much,” Juniper complained, clearly longsufferingly but B just laughed. 

“No, it isn’t. It’s just enough,” she promised and Juniper hugged her in thanks. 

“Thanks, B,” Juniper mumbled, before hanging up her apron and disappearing. Leaving B or whatever her name actually was, clearly in charge. 

In the meantime, Azriel had the shadows find him some of the reports he needed to read that were enchanted for secret keeping, only been able to be read by his eyes and his eyes only. 

B knew seemingly everybody that came into the bakery, knew the names of every customer, knew their order…and so Azriel settled in at that table and spend the rest of the afternoon, reading his report and draining his tea until only dark dregs remained. 

He listened to the cadence of her voice as she talked and relaxed in that little corner, where nobody paid him any mind. Nobody flinched away from him. 

Nobody cared. 

It wouldn’t stay his only visit. It would become a weekly tradition, a habit that he shouldn’t have but still had. 

Because he wanted to go to the Beehive Bakery. 

It was the one thing he wanted. 

What Azriel wanted had never mattered. 

Not really. 

Unless it was right here. Unless it was him buying himself Peach Cobbler and cream.

Unless it was him sitting in the darkest corner and just watching. 

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 25th

modern!anakin x virginity loss

god, he’d be so sweet on you.

always telling you that ‘it’s okay’ and that he ‘can wait’ even though you can feel his hard on pressing against your ass when you sit on his lap every time the two of you make out. he wanted to be careful, make you comfortable, find out what really makes you tick.

you’d been building slowly towards sex, starting with him rubbing you over your panties until you came one evening when he was sleeping at your house, a stuffed animal from your childhood digging into his spine as he crams himself into your bed, hand down your pyjama shorts cooing sweet nothings at you as you made a mess inside your cotton panties. it was the first time he’d touched you intimately at all, the movie the two of you were previously watching still playing on the screen, the only thing illuminating the room. “you feel that, pretty girl? can you tell me how it is? need t’hear some words, yeah?”

the next few times were strictly him still getting you off — dry humping with you on his lap, his back leaning up against the tree of an empty field one your picnic date. your sundress was bunched up around your waist, short gasps falling into his parted lips as you grind your pantie-clad crotch against the hard-on in his basketball shorts, whimpering and digging your nails into the material of his black tshirt. his snakebite piercing skims your lips when he talks. “its okay beautiful, make yourself feel good — know you need it.” a big warm hand stroking your clammy back.

you then graduated to riding his thigh a week later in his living room, anakin manspreading on his arm chair having placed his playstation controller to the side to attend to you when you’d given him the needy eyes and sweet pout telling him you were ‘thinking about last time’ in that innocent voice of yours. he’d talked you out of your panties this time, your skirt rumpled on the floor as you hump his sweatpants covered leg, naked from the waist down as he coaches you through it, more and more vocal each time he gets you off. “my needy girl, aren’t you? m’gonna have a problem on my hands if you can’t control yourself like this, aren’t I? what’s gonna happen when i’m not here for you to hump like a little puppy dog?” he tests the waters with his teasing, a giant grin on his face— noting the way you collapse against him with a pornographic moan when he does so.

the same evening, you couldn’t bare to blue-ball him any longer and begged him to let you give him a handjob atleast. it didn’t take much convincing, and not long after he’d calmed you from your orgasm, you were quickly pushing him towards his as you perch on his leg, staring at him with wide submissive eyes, listening to his every direction as you pump your wet hand up and down his shaft. he’d learnt by now how much praise effects you, and now he was gathering that you needed it just as much when you weren’t the one being pleased, rather doing the pleasing. “am i doing okay, ani?” you’d politely enquire, the hand that was resting on his own head would come down to stroke your cheek lazily, eyes on your hand. “yeah baby, my best girl. you wanna twist your hand a little for me? yeah just like that. maybe spit on it a little more. fuck, good fucking girl.” you really liked how he spoke when he felt good.

you’d come to him only two days later, shy and polite as ever asking to suck him off. “i read about how to do it good in cosmo.” you tell him proudly, albeit slightly naively as you flop down on your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet behind you as you converse with him casually. he chuckles from where he lounged against your headboard. “oh yeah? you a pro now?”

you nod with a happy ‘mhm’ which he finds adorable as he tilts his head a little, regarding you curiously. “my love, you’ve seen how big it is. i don’t know if you’re ready for that in your mouth. might choke.” he bites back another chuckle and you shake your head urgently, scrambling up on the bed to kneel right beside where he sat with wide eyes, ready to convince him.

“no way, my gag reflex is pretty good! i swear!” you plead and his gaze darkens just a touch, focused on your lips now.

“lets see. open up.” he lifts his hand, tapping your bottom lip with his two fingers. you don’t question it, welcoming his fingers into your mouth until they’re pushing deeper and your brows are furrowing, watery eyes fighting the urge to roll back as you stare at him. he’s grinning now, feeling his dick chub up a little in his sweatpants. “uh-huh.” he proves as you gag a little.

you grasp his wrist, blinking away your tears as you press a kiss to the tips of his stiffened fingers when he pulls them out, holding his hand there as you stare up at him desperately. “let me try, please?”

and how can he say no when you ask so nicely? of course, he lets you suck and lick on him to your hearts content, being the perfect teacher until he’s giving you the first real taste you’ve ever had of him.

a week later, he finally gets to finger you — properly.

you’re snuggled into him, open mouth panting into his neck as he scissors two fingers inside you. “oh god, ani.” you sob as if it hurts and he shushes you, puckered lips pressing to your temple and spare hand rubbing your back.

“baby, y’keep begging me to fuck you but you can’t even take these fingers. you want it or not, hm?” he cooes gently as if he isn’t ever so slightly humiliating you.

“m’trying!” you hiccup.

“and you’re doing so good for me.”

finally, after a few weeks of combining all that you’ve learnt from anakin — you can’t wait any longer, and neither can he. with you laid out naked before him, he caresses your cheek.

“is it gonna hurt, do you think?” you ask, and he scratches behind your ear.

“it shouldnt, you’re so good at taking my fingers now aren’t you? think i got you nice and ready.” he explains as you nuzzle into his palm for comfort.

his tip nudges at your entrance and you’re already mewling. “you ready for me, pretty? you gonna tell me if you wanna stop?”

“yes ani, please!” your manicure digs into his tattooed shoulders.

he’s so good with you, hissing through his teeth when he gets all the way in, kissing away your shocked expression at how deep he feels. he has the patience of a saint, hands stroking your skin and soothing you until your hips are writhing against his, begging for him to fuck you. “look at you, you proud of yourself, sweet girl? getting fucked by your boyfriend, just like you wanted. gonna take it nice and slow, yeah?” he huffs, practicing self restraint.

it’s not often you can make someone cum the first time you fuck them, let alone cum as hard as anakin makes you — but by the time he’s done, your legs are shaking and you’re limp, only able to be scooped up into his arms and held, his hoarse voice shushing your weak whimpers as you jerk from the aftershocks.

“did so good. so good.”