#I LIKE DAZZLE HE’S NICE TO DRAW

[anx1oustig3r]

AIGHT THE AIRPORT DOODLES i really wholeheartedly appreciate them!! they got me through that whole trip!

loser magina in a modern AU for @blakmurd (carl invoker cheated in a game of yu-gi-oh and he is hellbent on vengeance)

kivooli and malfatto get a harsh surprise in RFD (based on a real experience we had two manning that dungeon underleveled) and sol and geno cosplaying doto characters for my wonderful @fridka 💖💖

and a dazzle mermaid for @aditublog (i chose dazzle because i dont draw him enough and the idea needed to be done!!)

[saintobio]

*๑♡՞ i, spy.

pairings. sylus, fem!reader tags. 1.5k wc, mild angst, suggestive ending, jealousy, petnames as usual (kitten, sweetie, baby doll), alcohol consumption, sylus being annoying lmao, loosely inspired by his immobilized memory

sylus can be very petty when he wants to be.

today’s weather was beyond freezing, and the view of the icy mountains in the arctic region stood tall over the hotel grounds where the hunter’s association team-building event was taking place. you had spent the entire day engaged in activities with your team, enjoying every moment, and your laughter mingling with the cheerful atmosphere. it had been awhile since you last went on a snowboarding trip with the rest of your hunter friends, so this day brought about just the perfect quality time to boost camaraderie amongst your team. 

unbeknownst to you, sylus, who had also chosen to stay at the same hotel, was watching from a distance. his red eyes, usually cold and calculating, were now burning with an intensity fueled by jealousy. you had been spending time with xavier, your interactions light and full of warmth, and sylus could barely contain his frustration as he saw how your colleague brought you hot chocolate and used his palms to warm your cheeks.

“tch.” sylus absently swirled his glass of whiskey, the ice making a faint clink as he observed you from the balcony of his room. “seems like a stray kitten has found a new companion.”

then, as the evening arrived, your group gathered for dinner and you were happily chatting with your team, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind the scenes (aka by a certain tall man with grayish hair and crimson eyes). the rest of your hunter friends eventually headed back to their own rooms after finishing their meals, while a couple others chose to spend more time at the hotel bar. your activity of choice for the night was also the latter, telling xavier that it was okay for him to head back to his room knowing how he had been fighting the drowsiness off for the last hour. 

meanwhile, sylus soon made his entrance at the bar, accompanied by a striking woman whose presence was impossible to ignore. her outfit was dazzling, and she seemed to be following sylus’s every command like a pet.

impossible! you thought, eyes widening in panic as soon as you saw the onychinus leader. if your hunter friends found out that the n109 boss was here, this hotel would turn into a battlefield in a heartbeat.  

yet sylus, completely unfazed, walked over to your area in the bar counter with the woman by his side. his smirk was barely concealed as he approached you. “i didn’t expect to see you here, kitten,” he said, his voice smooth and dripping with subtle menace. “i brought a friend along.”

you looked up, your heart sinking as you took in the sight of sylus’s companion. she was effortlessly glamorous with her sleek blonde hair and exquisite fur jacket, her every movement seemingly calculated to draw attention. however, despite her overflowing gorgeous exterior, sylus’s gaze was fixed on you. and the asshole was watching your reaction with an almost predatory intensity.

“oh, sylus,” you said in an attempt to sound casual. “what a surprise.”

“oh, certainly, kitten. and by the way, this is elara,” sylus introduced, gesturing to the woman beside him. “she’s been kind enough to accompany me this evening.”

elara gave you a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. her partner, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the way her presence unsettled you as he took a seat next to her, deliberately placing her between the two of you. “nice to meet you!” 

“likewise,” you replied, shaking her hand and forcing a smile. 

“care to join us, miss hunter?” sylus said with a smirk, his eyes glinting as he watched you hesitate. his arm was draped casually around elara’s shoulders, and the sight made your stomach churn with a strange mix of envy and frustration. “elara and i are just about to get some drinks.”

“join us, please!” the woman next to him encouraged.

“uh, sure.” pressured by the situation, you gave a subtle nod, only to receive a gleam of satisfaction in sylus’s eyes.

this bastard! you didn’t like how his hand was lingering on her arm in a way that was meant to be seen. each laugh they shared, each touch, seemed designed to push you further into a pit of jealousy. and the way stupid sylus kept glancing at you, gauging your reaction, only made the situation more unbearable. that’s it, you silently snickered in your head, i should call him stupid sylus. 

you forced yourself to focus on your blue raspberry cocktail, trying to ignore sylus’s stupid blabbering while rushing to finish your drink. his actions were a blatant attempt to make you feel inferior, and it was working. it was definitely working. but you couldn’t lose your composure now despite him making sure to lavish attention on elara. every time he touched her back and her waist, you felt a pang of jealousy growing more and more intense by the second. it didn’t help that sylus’s presence was also a constant reminder of the way he could manipulate your emotions, and it was driving you to the edge.

“so,” sylus tapped his fingers on the counter, his voice low and intentionally provocative, “how’s your evening been, miss hunter?”

“fine,” you replied tersely, trying to mask the irritation and hurt simmering beneath the surface.

“just fine?” sylus asked, his smirk widening. “i thought you were enjoying yourself today. seeing you with your colleague was quite… interesting.”

“if you’re referring to xav—” you paused, remembering that xavier had a bounty in his head at the n109 zone and it was best to keep him out of conversations with sylus, so you decided to change the topic, “did you have mephisto report all my activities to you again?” 

him and his equally stupid bird. so annoying. 

“there’s no need for that, sweetie. you stick out like a sore thumb, so you’re not that difficult to spot.” he smiled as he talked, like he was having so much fun at mocking you. oh, he’s deliberately pushing my buttons! his actions were a cruel game meant to make you question your feelings and your place in his life. 

before you could retort, elara suddenly tugged his sleeve, focusing all of his misrouted attention back to her. “honey,” she spoke to him sweetly, “what drink do you recommend i should get next?” 

you rolled your eyes and turned away, the old man playing the piano now a much more interesting sight to look at compared to the two lovey-dovey couple next to you. but really, it was suffocating to be anywhere near sylus, and the only way to stop feeling all of these crazy emotions swirling inside of you was to not be around him. 

and so with that, finally, after what felt like an eternity, you excused yourself. but the walk back to your room was quickly interrupted by the figure of a six foot two man, his towering height preventing you from taking another step without his permission. “where do you think you’re going, kitten?” he asked, noticing the sourness in your expression that you tried so hard to conceal. 

“heading back,” you merely responded, trying to find an escape by pointing towards the opposite direction. “look over there, isn’t that luke and kieran?”

as soon as sylus turned his head, you made a swift beeline for the bar’s exit. you even sighed of relief as you managed to free yourself from his presence, now making your way through the empty halls of the hotel. unfortunately for you, sylus wasn’t one to let something like this go. so before you could even think of hiding and running away, he was already walking next to you—the frown on his face growing more pronounced as he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the nearby elevator. 

“let go—!” you protested, wiggling your hands from his tight hold. “where ‘re you taking me?”

“my suite,” he muttered, pressing the button to the top most floor. “sleep in my room tonight.” 

you let out a loud, sardonic chuckle. “says who?” 

sylus, crossing his arms, looked at you with thin, furrowed brows. “your only choice is to obey me, kitten.” 

an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. “isn’t elara supposed to be with you?” you questioned, “you should bring her to your room, not me!” 

it was too late. because no matter how much you struggled against his iron grip, you were later pushed inside his presidential suite, the grandiose of his room stupefying you. the smell of red roses and wine was a relaxing aroma that continued to pull you inside. yet, before you can take another step, sylus was already pulling you by the waist, leaning in to crash his lips onto yours. 

at first you tried to push him off, but who were you kidding here? of course, you’d eventually melt into the kiss, allowing him to envelop his lips around yours, its soft and tender movements sending shivers down your spine. each kiss was a loud smooch echoing across the room.

“were you jealous?” he asked in a low voice, biting your lower lip and pulling only slightly away. “i don’t have that kind of relationship with elara. she’s just a staff member of mine that i asked to make you jealous.” 

“okay, and?” you frowned at his handsome face, hating how easily he could get under your skin. literally and figuratively. “the way you were still touching her was…” 

“your jealousy is showing, sweetie.” a smile of mischief crept up on sylus’s lips before he extended a hand to squeeze your ass. “and what about the way your male colleague doted on you all day, hm? had fun being treated like a princess by him?” 

“why do you care?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent despite the ticklish kisses he was trailing along your neck. “it’s none of your business who i talk to.”

“oh, it is my business, baby doll.” sylus’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, now unbuttoning his shirt and suggesting a very rough night ahead. “because i care about what i have. and right now, that’s you.”

[charchev]

Blue Lock boys meeting your younger sibling for the first time!

bllk x gn!reader

Nagi Seishiro

Nagi would approach the situation with his usual laid-back demeanor. He’d likely stay quiet at first, letting you do the introductions. If your younger sibling shows interest in gaming or something Nagi enjoys, he’d open up more.

If your sibling is shy, Nagi wouldn’t push conversation but might share something like, “Wanna play? I’ll let you win… maybe.” He’s not the most social, but his casual nature could make your sibling feel comfortable.

“This is fine as long as it’s not too much effort. They’re not bad, though.”

Reo Mikage

Reo would be warm and welcoming from the start, trying to make the best impression. He’d see your sibling as an extension of you, so he’d go out of his way to ensure they felt comfortable and liked him.

Reo would ask your sibling about their interests and might even have a small gift prepared in advance. Whether it’s a soccer ball, a book, or a treat, he’d nail the gesture. If they like soccer, he’d offer to teach them a few moves.

“I want them to like me—gotta make sure they think I’m the coolest.”

Sae Itoshi

Sae would remain polite but reserved, more focused on you than your sibling. He wouldn’t be unkind, but he might take a bit of time to warm up to them.

If your sibling idolizes him as a soccer player, Sae would indulge them with brief but thoughtful answers to their questions. He’d be slightly amused if they tried to impress him and might even give them a small compliment.

“They’re fine, I guess. As long as they’re not too noisy.”

Rin Itoshi

Rin would be visibly tense and unsure how to interact. He’s not great with social situations, especially involving kids or younger people. However, he’d make an effort for your sake.

Rin would probably stick to short sentences like, “Hi,” or “Nice to meet you.” If your sibling challenges him to a game or asks him about soccer, he’d reluctantly participate but might get overly competitive without realizing it.

“What do I even say? Don’t want to mess this up.”

Bachira Meguru

Bachira would be thrilled to meet your sibling and immediately treat them like a friend. His playful energy would make the situation fun and relaxed.

He’d start chatting with them as if they’ve known each other for years, asking about their favorite things and suggesting fun activities. If your sibling is shy, he’d find a way to draw them out of their shell, like making funny faces or telling a silly story.

“This is so much fun! I’m gonna make them my partner-in-crime.”

Alexis Ness

Alexis would be polite, charming, and composed when meeting your sibling. He’d see it as an opportunity to impress you by showing how well he handles family dynamics.

Alexis would ask thoughtful questions to get to know your sibling and would adapt to their personality. If they’re shy, he’d be gentle and encouraging. If they’re outgoing, he’d match their energy while still maintaining his elegant demeanor.

“It’s important I get along with them—they’re part of y/n’s world.”

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser would approach the meeting with charisma and confidence, treating it like a performance where he has to win your sibling’s favor.

He’d try to dazzle your sibling with his charm, cracking jokes and showing off (especially if they’re into soccer). If your sibling is unimpressed, he might pretend to be hurt, saying something dramatic like, “What? You don’t think I’m the coolest guy your sibling knows?”

“This should be easy—I’m great with people.”

i picked my favs to do this with so i may do a second part with more ^_^

[shotmrmiller]

smut because somehow i always end up there.

yknow something that pushy ass cbf!johnny would do?

tell you that he'd get more benefits and/or pay if he had a spouse.

"Because you're in absolute poverty, Johnny."

He clicks his tongue. "Be serious, hen."

You are being serious. Johnny's not hurting for cash. His parents are still alive, so he has no need to buy a place of his own, and even then, he just swings by his family's home before coming back to stay with you until leave's over. Honestly, you should be charging him rent.

"Johnny. Unless you're planning on buying another ostentatious vehicle with tires too big for this tiny town, I'm not seeing what you're seeing."

He digs his thumb into the arch of your foot that's draped over his lap. "But think o' the possibilities! If say, you married me, ye wouldn't need to work anymore. Jus' worked on gettin' the job of yer dreams! An' besides, ah'd never realistically settle down anyway; too busy savin' the world an' all."

The extra income must be drastic if he's this insistent. "Why not marry the big brit with the skull for a face? You talk about him enough to sound like you've got a hard on for him."

He avoids your gaze when he informs you that Ghost is already married.

"And what about me? What if I find a boyfriend or something?" you playfully teased. Johnny's bright blue eyes turned to ice.

"Is there someone?" A muscle worked in his jaw.

Dread crawled up your spine. Abort. Abort. "Of course not." The tension melted from his face— gaze gentling and lips softening.

Christ, can he be intense sometimes.

You clear your throat. "Say I do marry you. What do you get out of this as my benefactor? Math isn't mathing, Johnny."

His lips curl upwards in amusement. "Nothin' between us would change. Jus' get a nice, shiny band on my hand tha' keeps unwanted advances off of me, and I wouldn't have to live on base anymore. Tired of eatin' tha' slop at dfac."

Johnny's long fingers curl around your ankle, thumb drawing gentle circles on the bone. "C'mon, hen. Think about your career! Marry me and ye won't even have t'change yer last name, swear."

Once again, fooled by the pretty face and dazzling smile.

You were a MacTavish by the end of the month, and he'd ended up in your bed that same night. Pushed your face into the soft mattress as he bullied his cock into you, telling you to feel how he splits his little wife's pussy open.

Mottled the delicate skin of your neck and collarbone with purple love bites when he hooked your knees over his shoulders, forcing you to take all of him in that devastating angle.

Made you look at yourself in the mirror in the bathroom, one hand gripping your neck, and the other on your swollen cunt, rubbing tight circles on your slippery clit. "Look at how beautiful y'are. How good yer takin' me." He tilts your head upwards, locking eyes with you. "This cunt was made f'me, wasn't it, wife?" he rumbles.

If he said anything else, it was promptly drowned out by a buzzing in your ears as your world went white. Warmth trickled down your legs as pleasure burst through you, spasm after gut-twisting spasm. Johnny blessedly slows down, working you through it tenderly, until you hiss in discomfort from oversensitivity.

"The way ye look in yer pleasure is somethin' i'll see behind my eyelids forever, bonnie."

Heat licks up the sides of your jaw. "Johnny, please—" you cut off, a moan tumbling out of your lips when he presses himself flush against your arse.

"Dinnae worry, ah'm not done with ye jus' yet." There's a hand in between your shoulder blades, pushing down gently. "Bend over, hands behind yer back, Mrs. MacTavish."

ghost is in fact, not married.

and the pay raise is mediocre.

[artdcnaldson]

*taps mic* "Ahem... jerking Art off and making him swallow his own cum"

The crowd boos. "That's disgusting!" One yells. "He'd never do that!" Another shouts. Then, everyone gasps and turns around as someone in the back stands and speaks up. "Yes, he would." Says no other than Arthur Clive Donaldson himself.

Alternatively.... cumming in you and then eating you out...

And the crowd goes... home!

🚬

Sighhhh <3

But yeah <3 Especially thinking very hard about jerking off sweet little 2006 Art. Perhaps even comforting him in your hotel room after he's lost the junior US Open final </3

He wants to feel desired, like he's won something. So he feels vindicated when you're clinging to his side, all starry eyed and happy to be in his presence. Patrick is across the room talking to Tashi, showing off his trophy with that dazzling, perfect, smarmy, frustrating smile of his. So he tries to focus on you, as you tell him about how you also won in the mixed doubles tournament, and you saw his final that morning and you thought he played really well.

It doesn't take much convincing to get him to your hotel room— he didn't really want to stay at the afterparty anyway, feeling like Anna Mueller with his stupid little plate engraved— Art Donaldson, runner up. He feels better on your bed, with your tongue down his throat, moaning into your mouth as you strip him out of the fancy outfit his grandma had bought him, expecting a win. A nice white button down, black slacks, his grandad's cufflinks. Even a goddamn tie.

"You're so hot," you murmur against his lips, once he's down to his boxers and you can feel him hard, tenting the fabric. "Can I touch you?"

And, fuck, on a night like this, who is he to refuse?

Your hands are so so soft around him, slick from spit so he can glide in your palm. Slow, practiced. You kiss him so sweetly as you jerk him off, tongue brushing his, licking into his mouth. You can taste the soda he had at the party, the cigarette he'd puffed on while you waited for your shuttle back to the hotel.

"Jesus that's—" He trails off, hips bucking up into your fist, seeking more. But you set the pace, and you want this to be slow. So you just smile, nod and kiss his jaw. You twist your fist a bit and make him groan, so his head falls back and you can trail your hot kisses down his throat. "God, you're killing me."

You relish in having him like this— panting and falling apart in your hand, literally. Art Donaldson— golden boy on the court. You toy with him— slowing down when his moans get too fast, when you feel his balls drawing up and his cock pulsing... speeding up when you want to feel his breath hot, panting against your throat, his kisses insistent.

He doesn't even have time to warn you before he's spilling into your hand. Hot, thick ropes that drip between your fingers. He groans and buries his face in your shoulder, embarrassed by his inability to last during a simple handjob.

"Sorry, that's... sorry," He stammers, his cheeks pretty pink. His cock flags, just a bit between his thighs, and you know this isn't the first time you'll make him cum that night. Not even close.

You kiss his cheek once, then bring your fingers up to his lips. He hesitates, just a moment, before his tongue peeks out, lapping at his spend on your fingers. His nose wrinkles, just a bit at the unfamiliar taste, but he obeys, until there's no trace of him left on your palm other than his spit.

You kiss his lips and taste his cum on his tongue. It doesn't take long for him to get hard again.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 4 - Courting (Part 1)

Autumn Embers Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Alcohol Consumption, discussion of infertility, omegaverse relationship dynamics

Note: I've added this story to AO3, but at this time I'm still formatting the series.

Before you can even enter the restaurant, Sergeant MacTavish is there to open the door for you.

“Evenin’,” he says with a wink. “Ye look nice.”

“Thank you. So do you,” you answer. And he does. You only have a moment to admire the fit of his collared shirt and dark denim before he’s gesturing you in ahead of him. A hostess, a beta, greets you with a meek glance at the alpha behind your left shoulder, before leading you through the front room and out onto the patio. Garden might be a better description, with greenery separating large tables from one another, muffling sound and scent. At least, you assume it will later. The only occupied table is the round one off to one side, which the hostess gestures you to with a practiced smile.

As you walk up, Captain John Price stands to greet you. His face is gentler than you remember. The sleeves of his heather green henley are pushed up to expose strong forearms as he approaches. He surprises you by offering his wrist before you can offer yours, then tosses propriety out the window by kissing the joint of your thumb. Before you can do more than draw a quick breath, he's leading you to the seat Sergeant Garrick has pulled out for you, apparently to the left of the Lieutenant, between him and the Captain himself. Sergeant MacTavish takes his seat to the Captain’s other side, leaving Sergeant Garrick between him and Lieutenant Riley.

"You are absolutely stunning," the Captain says, settling into his seat. "Been a trial keeping my distance, keeping the boys in line. Been a long time since we've seen a civilian dress a man down as thoroughly as you did."

It’s hard to resist the urge to fidget. Chrissy and Jack had spent hours with you, deciding on this outfit. The red-orange jumpsuit is a bit daring - a beautiful color that compliments your skin tone but bold, a bit too alpha for some tastes. Combined with the heels that have you at a height with Sergeat MacTavish, you’re breaking the first two rules of dating as an omega. You aren’t sure your delicate earrings and bangles do much to counter the effect, but it seems the alphas of the 141 don’t mind.

You are a little distracted from examining the others by the realization that the Captain smells warm, like whiskey and vanilla. Your mind flashes back to the cake in a way that makes your stomach swoop. So it's a little startling when one of the wait staff places a menu in front of you, along with a glass of water and a cocktail.

"Whiskey Sour," Sergeant John MacTavish burrs, "drink of choice, aye?"

That makes you pause. "What makes you say that?"

"'s what ye were drinkin' at the pub," he answers. His eyes are so blue, it's dazzling. "Could smell it. Orange 'n bitters, whiskey and smoke. 'ad ye on the back of my tongue all night."

"Soap," the Captain says, no inflection. "Let her look at the menu."

"Aye," he says, settling back in his chair with a wink to you. Sergeant Kyle Garrick calls your attention.

"We tried to pick a nice variety for lunch yesterday. Did you like it?"

Johnny's words make you very aware of your own scent receptors at the back of your throat, which in turn reminds you of the cake, again. Yesterday, you would have blushed and looked away, but Chrissy's reminder rings in your head. "They're an all alpha pack, you can't back down."

You hold Sergeant MacTavish's eyes for a long moment before turning to the other sergeant. He looks cozy and inviting in his knit vest and gray shirt. "Lunch was delightful, thank you. Still at my place of work, but I appreciate the thoughtfulness. I really appreciated the coffee."

His eyes sparkle as he smiles. "I can't promise not to do something dumb in the future, but we'll always apologize."

You arch an eyebrow. "We?"

You had assumed the Captain or Lieutenant would be the one in charge, but Sergeant Garrick is speaking for all of them. His open body language makes you take in the rest of the table out of habit. But no, everyone is relaxed, breathing easy. And they're all checking in with the Captain, subtle glances and flashes of bare wrist in his direction. And he had said he was keeping them in line. So the Captain does lead, but he's not in competition with the others.

It's confirmed for you when the Captain picks up his own drink and answers. "We. Any of us offend, we're all responsible."

"I suppose I should expect an apology for the bar, then?"

It's Lieutenant Riley who answers. His outfit, when you look at him, is dark, understated - a black cardigan over a dark, soft looking shirt. "No' liars." When you give him an inquisitive look over the rim of your glass, he continues. "Ain’t sorry for that. We'll only apologize when we mean to."

You decide to take it as a challenge. "And if I want one?"

"Good luck getting Johnny to regret it," the Lieutenant snorts. "But you're no' as delicate as all that." ‘

You narrow your eyes. "I could be."

"You're not. 'ard eye contact like this?" He must smile under his surgical mask, eyes wrinkling at the corners. "Maybe a bit soft, when you want t' be. Beautiful. Sweet, if we behave ourselves. But not delicate."

"Simon," the Captain intones, amusement in his voice. "Didn't I just say to let her look at the menu?"

"I'll get to it, Captain," you answer, holding the Lieutenant's stare. You feel a little flush, to hear him call you beautiful and soft and sweet after yesterday, but you're not going to roll for him.

"No need for rank. Just John's fine," the Captain answers. "We're at your leisure."

The Lieutenant's - Simon's - eyes don't leave yours. His chin tips up as yours tucks a little bit toward your chest. He'd probably done the same yesterday to Brandon, an easy acknowledgment that he's not threatened. But unlike yesterday, he's so relaxed that the gesture is welcoming instead of insulting. He won't guard his throat, not because you're not a threat but because you're welcome to his neck.

He breaks eye contact first, looking past you to Sergeant... to Johnny. The collar of his shirt is just low enough for you to see his collarbones, and you can't help a quick glance. The edge of a scar teases you, but you're not going to be so rude as to stare. So you look at his face and watch him deliberately not watch you.

He's so easily given you the win that you feel a bit wrong-footed. You eyes flick to John, then Johnny (Soap?), and finally Kyle. Each of them tilts their right wrist your way, no fuss at all.

A moment later, the scent of a nervous omega drifts over to you. When you look up, a server is fidgeting next to a hedge behind Kyle’s shoulder. He can’t be older than twenty and he’s eyeing Johnny like he’s a wild dog. The alpha isn’t actually doing anything, but he does smell distinctly interested, warm and a little spicy, even across the table.

You meet the boy’s eyes and gesture him over. He hesitates, just a moment, before skirting wide around the next table and avoiding standing behind Simon entirely.

He leans in and lowers his voice, “Can I get you another drink, ma’am? Is this one a bit warm?”

The question surprises you, but it shouldn’t. These are military alphas. A fight between all of them could be dangerous for you. And even if they’re in sync, you’re still a lone omega. If you were close to your heat, it would be easy for them to trigger it. It’s only natural for another omega to check in. You’ll have to leave a note and a bit of an extra tip, for their troubles.

You catch the Lieutenant out of the corner of your eye, shifting his weight away from the two of you. He’s got excellent control of his scent, so you can’t tell if he understands what’s been asked, if he’s offended by the implications. But he doesn’t say anything, and neither do any of the others.

“The drink is perfect, actually,” you assure him. “I was wondering if you had a recommendation. Everything looks good.”

He looks a bit torn, but eventually asks. “Something a bit light?”

“No,” you chuckle. “I’m not worrying about anything like that tonight.”

“Okay,” he says, and he smells skeptical, but less imminently anxious. “Well, we have a few sandwiches. But the salmon en croute is also very good?”

“That does sound good. Can you give us a moment to look at the menu?” You let a little bit of a churr creep into your voice, hope the alphas around you won’t read too much into it. “Can we also get some bread for the table? No rush, you’re looking a little warm, yourself.”

The boy’s scent goes a bit hot and embarrassed, but he doesn’t question you. He looks up at the captain for a brief moment before scurrying off. When you face the rest of the table again, Kyle’s eyebrows are up.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing,” you say with a little smile. “Just a bit peckish.”

“You gave him an out,” John corrects. “He was nervous about being around so many alphas at once.”

You shrug one shoulder with a little quirk of the lips. If that’s what he wants to believe, you won’t correct him. On your other side, Simon rumbles some disagreement, but doesn’t say anything else.

John examines your face for a long moment. It takes you a little bit by surprise when he says, "You've a lot of little tests for us."

You decide to be honest. "I've found inviting alphas to show me what kind of alphas they are and what kind of omega they expect to be an easy way of figuring out if we're compatible."

Kyle makes an amused sound. "How do we measure?"

"Haven't run yet," you allow.

"See," Simon says, eyes on his own menu. "Not delicate."

You huff a little laugh before turning your own eyes down. You do love salmon…

Before you know it, the server returns with a basket of torn bread and another server, a beta, in tow. You do end up ordering the salmon, and you take note when the others order similarly heavy dishes. They each check with you for a preference. The cut and temperature of a steak, potatoes or mixed vegetables for the table. What kind of cheese on a burger. You draw the line at picking a bottle of wine. “I have a drink,” you point out, lifting the glass in a half toast.

“The champaign rosé” John decides, with a nod to the second waiter. Both servers look to you. You shrug back at them and sip your whiskey.

Your original waiter shuffles inside, leaving the beta to hover just out of sight.

“So!” Johnny grins at you and leans back in his seat, rolling his shoulders. “What’s an omega such as yerself looking for in a pack?”

Kyle groans and puts his face in one hand. “Jesus, Soap.”

“I have my pack,” you answer, leaning back in your own seat to throw your own gauntlet. “Family I’ve chosen amongst my friends. And I’ve never found them lacking enough to seek anything more formal.”

“Oh, aye? They the ones who’ve helped you get all prettied up, this evenin’? C’n smell the wee blonde one on ye.”

Before the Captain can growl a correction, you point your glass at him. “Are you this rude on purpose, or is it just a natural talent?”

“Six ‘f one, half dozen the other,” the man answers easily, chin tipped up. “Wantae see that hint of fang you flashed fer us. That real, or just a bit of show for the base?”

“That wasn’t for you,” you scoff.

“For Laswell then?”

You cock an eyebrow. “Is she interested?”

“Oh aye, she loves a curvy thing with a bit o’ sharp edge.”

“Johnny,” Simon rumbles. “Enough.”

“Nae,” the Sergeant drawls. “She’s ‘ere, with us. If she wants something like that twat Brandon c’n offer, she’d have ‘im wrapped around those delicate fingers. She likes an alpha with a little bite.”

“Presumptuous,” you sniff.

“Yer the one drinkin’ the whiskey.” Johnny’s grin flashes his canines.

Fuck, you think, narrowing your eyes at him over the rim of the glass. You thought you’d only had a few sips, but now that he’s called attention to it, you feel just a bit warm. You lean forward to pluck a piece of bread from the basket, turning your attention to Kyle instead.

“And what about you? Do you think my temper’s just for show?” You ignore Johnny’s pleased rumble as you take another sip of your drink. It’s… significantly emptier than you realized.

“Oh, I don’t know about show.”

Kyle’s smile is sly, chin tilting down as he leans forward. Your own chin comes down, lips tight and ready to flash fang when his hand comes toward you. But he’s just reaching across Simon for the bread basket. You realize a split second too late that you’ve fallen for his little trick, answering your own question.

Before you can recover, Kyle turns his eyes to the Captain. “Tav’s right, though, sir. She’d not be here if she minded us being a bit forward.”

“I think you’ll find I do mind,” you protest.

He tears a piece of bread off as he looks back at you, his own brow arching. “How was the cake, then?”

A flash of heat twists through your belly and up your spine. You can’t help but bark a little laugh. “You’re just as bad as Johnny!”

“No one’s as bad as Soap,” John grumbles, taking some bread and passing the basket away from you. He tears off a piece and dips it into the plate of oil and spices before offering it to you.

Gods above, they really don’t do anything by halves. You consider directing him to place it on the bread plate. The whiskey tells you to lean in and eat straight from his hand. You split the difference by plucking the morsel from his fingers and popping it in your mouth.

You hold John’s gaze as you wash it down with the last of the whiskey. “And what is your pack looking for in an omega?”

“Not easily offended, apparently,” he says with a chuckle. “But if you’re insisting on honesty…”

“I am.”

“Well, then, we weren’t looking for an omega,” he says, easily. “The task force demands a lot. Not much time for dating.”

That’s not a surprise. A lot of military alphas stay in one place the majority of the time, but you know the 141 is deployed all over the world on short notice.

The belief that omegas need more stability than other designations is pseudo-scientific bullshit. Those popular myths were debunked in the ‘50s, after the wars shook up so many communities and packs. But the instability of military service still makes developing a pack difficult.

Your quasi-pack with Mel, Jack, and Chrissy is not particularly sensitive to disruption. None of you are strangers to late nights and unexpected interruptions to your schedules. Chrissy in particular can sometimes take off for a couple of weeks at a time, on a tour. Mel travels for rugby games, with Jack trailing along behind. But you aren’t relying on each other to pay bills or plan a family together. And none of you are going across the world to get shot at.

You arch an eyebrow. “So what does that mean for this potential courtship?”

“That’s up to you, sweetheart,” John says easily. “Obviously, we can’t offer something strictly traditional. We’re quite happy to know you’ve got your Quasi. But we’re also a bit…”

“Possessive,” Simon supplies on your other side.

“Protective,” Kyle protests. “We’re not gonna keep you from your friends. But if you want a family-”

Dammit. You’d hoped to at least have your food in front of you before broaching this topic. “I can’t have kids.”

John doesn’t miss a beat. “Can’t and want to, or can’t and wouldn’t?” He smooths the potential edges of the question by offering another piece of bread, soft, with just a bit of crust. When you reach to take it from his hand, he doesn’t let go, just lets you guide him until the bread is at your mouth.

He lets go just before you part your lips, his wrist brushing yours. It’s dizzying, reminds you that while Johnny is the most overt, John is the one they all follow. You’d bet money that he’s the one behind the cake, ultimately.

You almost forget the question. “Um. Oh. I, um, I don’t really want children of my own. I’m not opposed to them, on principle. Jack and Mel are considering. Chrissy’s not a fan of babies, but I’d be happy nursing-”

Simon purrs so hard behind you it makes you jump, and you realize that drinking on an empty stomach has completely suppressed your filter. When you turn, the lieutenants pupils are blown, but his scent is very deliberately neutral.

And that’s when your other server arrives with the appetizers.

Kyle’s demeanor changes. You hadn’t realized the weight of his attention until he turned a bright smile on the other omega. Johnny makes a comment about how he’s “starving, really, Kyle’s been hogging the bread.” They volley back and forth so quickly and easily that both servers are gone before you realize that everyone’s scents are locked down, not just Simon’s.

And you knew, you knew that they were special forces, but you’re not used to watching others consciously make themselves less obvious, less threatening. You can smell them, but they smell so neutral that if you couldn’t see them, you’d severely underestimate the threat that they pose. It makes you eye your whiskey glass, too late, with a newfound wariness.

You get distracted when you look at Simon, your first unobstructed view of his face as he chooses a piece of bread for himself. He lets you look, lets you take in the scars on left side of his mouth that are too clean to be anything but intentional. The notch in his upper lip means you can see his canine and one perimolar. He doesn’t stop eating when he notices you observing him, and you find yourself a bit charmed by how tidy he is.

“Gaz had a a whole plan for what to talk aboot,” Johnny says, startling you into looking back across the table at him. He pops a stuffed cherry tomato in his mouth as he says, “Ah threw everyone off.”

“On purpose,” Kyle mutters.

“A little,” Johnny admits with a shrug and a wink. “Never been great at small talk.”

“Thinks ‘e knows better,” Simon rumbles. “Sees the objective and ‘as to take the most direct route.”

“Objective is the wrong word,” Kyle is quick to jump in. “We’re used to looking at the world thought that lens-“

“We just like ye, is all,” Johnny jumps in to assure you.

They’re nervous, you realize. You’re nervous, all of your carefully planned talking points thrown to the wind. It’s time for a tried-and-true conversation saver. Hopefully these alphas like sports.

“Who do you think is making it to the cup this year?”

Kyle jumps on the subject change, obviously - and charmingly - relieved. “Well obviously, it’s going to be Man United and The Blues going head to head in the finals.”

“Manchester City and Arsenal.” Johnny scoffs.

“Don’t start that shite,” Simon grumbles.

The sports talk gets you through the appetizers. You have only the barest knowledge of sports from your time in school and Mel’s rugby league, but you’re very practiced in making vaguely skeptical noises at key moments to keep the conversation going. Johnny and Kyle are much more careful than your alpha coworkers not to imply that you don’t know what you’re talking about. Simon gets a bit smug when you scrunch your nose at one of Kyle’s points. John gives you an amused look, once he figures out what you’re doing, but doesn’t say anything.

The food helps you to feel a bit more in control of yourself, so while three of the alphas argue, you try to organize your thoughts. You’d attended this dinner with the expectation that you would be hearing out a list of demands and expectations. Alphas dictate, omegas yield.

But now they’ve left so much up to you. You’d expected them to balk, to demand answers about an omega claiming to be barren. Instead, John had offered a thoughtful question about your desires. Simon’s enthusiastic show of approval had reminded you that a lot of military As aren’t involved in family planning discussions. That something as mundane as nursing might be exciting, not a matter of course, a concession to your expected role as nest-stay.

It’s refreshing, and it throws you off. Other alphas might expect you to quit your job if the courtship is favorable. Would the 141? The four of them together certainly make more than enough money to support an omega between them. Would you be expected to move in with Price? With all of them?

By the time the main course comes out, you’re flustered all over again with unanswered questions. You’re kind of grateful when the glass of rosé is poured for you, but you do make sure to ask for more water for the table.

In a move you probably could have predicted, John prevents you from serving yourself. He and Simon take turns choosing and presenting the best bits of the sides you ordered for the table. You humor them, analyzing the veggies for blemishes, and, seeing none, allow them to be put on your plate.

What you don’t expect is to be offered all of their entrees for similar inspection. When you give them your baffled approval, they all give little purrs. For all that Lieutenant Riley promised that this evening wouldn’t be formal, they’re treating you like a distingué, like your position is guaranteed and respected above even the Captain.

It’s a pleasant surprise. As you take a bite of your salmon, you feel optimistic for the rest of the evening.

[sugurizz]

IDK IF YOU DO BREEDING KINKS BUT IF YOU DO MAY I PLEASE REQUEST JOO JAEKYHUNG X F BREEDING KINK (pls ignore this if you do not feel comfortable, i am so sorry 😔🙏) THANK YOU SO MUCH BABGORL 🧌🫶

Breeding kink is me. I’m breeding kink sis and so is Joo MF Jaekyung. He’s canonly a raw king *cough* chap.29 *cough* he hates condoms even more than he hates people lol.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓/𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 +𝟏𝟖!! , 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈!! 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: STRONG BREEDING KINK DUH, established relationship, vaginal/ unprotected sex, begging, dirty talk.

Oh gosh Breeding Maniac! Jaekyung who cums buckets on every nut your tiny pussy squeezes out of him. His balls are always so big and full, so tight and warm after the long hours he spends training. The hours of sparring and working out, blowing off steam on his competition never seem to drain him though. If anything he’s back home with a visible hard-on grazing his boxers…He still got so much to give you nice and hard.

His raging pheromones get you soft and loose, almost dazzled into begging him to breed you. You never had to ask him twice anyways, not even once to begin with…

He’s addicted to the view of your pussy painted white, sticky and dripping with the viscous cum. He smirks at it like a brat, spreads you open and yanks your feet over his shoulders, staring longingly as if he just created a work of art between legs.

His foxy eyes lock with yours, grinning at your wasted expression and messy hairs sticking to your damp forehead…The lewd sight of you laying down on his bed, your breasts rising and falling with ragged cries. You look so damn pretty and nasty, begging to be bred over and over. Marked with his strong scent and warm sweat, his seed slowly dribbling down the swell of your asscheek…The mere thought could get him off on its own.

‘So good you can’t even breathe huh?’ He hovers over you and leans down, lips ghosting over your ear, ‘Don’t you faint on me, I’m far from done with you’

He pulls you by the waist, pounding into your balmy pussy. The ropes of your wetness and his cum join your hips back together. He gets wilder the longer he stares at your bodies slapping each other, going deeper in heat as you babble for him to breed you.

‘Oh fuckk- sir, godd…feels so fucking good-’

He pulls you closer by the neck, thrusting in and releasing inside you. You drag your nails over his back, drawing a couple groans out his lips…

The way he fills you up drives you crazy. His cum gets you addicted. You feel so complete when he does it :3 Keeps you all warm and docile, calms your body and mind…The sensation of being full of him inside you gets you all bubbly and happy. Feels almost like a little gift you carry of him every time he touches you.

[brokebonewritings]

The Moon’s Petal

Steven Grant x Fem! Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Falling in Love, Regency Era

Summary: The most interesting match of the season has caught the eye of the ton. The story of Steven Grant falling in love with the Diamond of the Season.

Word Count: 8.2K

A/N: You may notice of shift in writing styles in this piece and it's because I initially wrote this almost 3 years ago haha this is just a warning for that. Also, I think this might be my longest piece to date...I hope you all enjoy! xx

Navigation | Masterlist

Dearest Readers,

Even my most dedicated readers will know that this author is prompt to deliver the latest news of society. For those wondering what is in store for this edition, I have the most delightful surprise for you.

Mr. Grant has finally sparked a conversation with several ladies of the ton. One, in which this author believes would be a most auspicious match, was none other than the Diamond of the Season. Although this gentleman has failed to spark any sort of conversation in the past, the laughter heard from the crowd was a delight to any matchmaking mama.

This author wonders if this social season will be much different for the gentleman. One can only assume that Mr. Steven Grant has had a change of mind, and is finally in need of companionship. For now, I shall watch closely to see if any relationship shall develop between this gentleman and one of our most beautiful ladies.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers,

30 March 1815

“My God,” Steven gawked as he read the rest of the paper. He was never one for such gossip, however this edition made the man more interested than most. It seemed that one conversation had sparked so much gossip between the ladies of the ton.

Looking over at his reflection, he sees Marc shake his head.

You’re an absolute idiot for reading that shit. He could hear Marc say. 

“Well I think it is absolutely interesting how we could be the spark of any sort of scandal.” Steven quipped back.

Scandal? Talking to a lady is hardly a scandal. How about when they find out there are three of us in one body. Marc’s comment made Steven sit back in his chair. He never considered having to actually tell someone of their predicament. Not even the most lovely lady he met at the ball the night before.

Her eyes dazzled as he spoke to her about his travels, and his silly nonsense. When she had finally asked him to dance, he happily gave her his arm. Though, their walk through the garden that same evening ended with hushed goodbyes.

Steven dazed about the rest of the day, wondering if he would ever see his lady again. As interested as he was in her, he never quite asked for her name. A mistake he regretted instantly.

Only a few blocks down, you sat in your drawing room with your family and chatted happily about the night before. Your mama seemed most pleased with the amount of calls you were receiving. However, there was one you wanted most of all.

“Darling, you mustn’t stare off like that. It could be seen as impolite.” Your mother stated as she took another sip of her tea.

“Yes, mama.” You replied, though you couldn't help but wonder if that was something he would find impolite. Even as the both of you spoke the prior evening he often stared into the night sky as if he was in a trance.

You could never forget it though, surely he would find you at the next event, and surely he would be the one to ask you to dance. Of course it was never a guarantee, but the feeling in your stomach told you otherwise.

Continuing on with your day, you attended to the gentlemen calls that intrigued your mother. Most of these men just spoke of their interests and what they would want to see in you. This bored you to death. Of course you were a fantastic listener, but it was feeling just a bit tedious at this point.

Toward midday, when there were no more calls, you made your way to the center of town to enjoy the sights of the people passing by. You were escorted by your family, however it was nice to get some fresh air. You often brought your notebook to study other people’s characteristics. Knowing every sort by name.

While strolling with your family, you notice a man on the other side of the street walking briskly. It wasn’t that you were intentionally staring, but you were a bit curious at the hurried behavior of this gentleman. At closer glance you notice it was him. The man you had been swooning and dreaming about the night before.

As he disappears into a small shop, you tug at your father’s sleeve.

“Papa, What is that shop over there?” You ask, with the motive of manipulating your father to go inside and see. He turns his head in the direction you are pointing and chuckles a bit.

“My darling, that is just a stationary shop. I believe it had just opened up about a week ago. Are you in need of new quills?” He asked.

You nod your head when, in fact, you do not need any more stationary items. All you wanted was to see and perhaps speak to the man you strolled with the night before. Your father tasked your oldest brother to escort you into the shop. 

Marc hurried into the shop, checking his whereabouts before stepping inside. They had just received word earlier that day that a special visitor would be arriving later that week. Not that his parents were that special of visitors, it was just that he hated having to share his home with others. Even if it was for an afternoon.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he hears the bells on the door chime. Usually he’s not too curious about who comes in and out, but something compelled him to look around the stand he was staring at. A gentleman and a young woman step inside the shop. He knew the man, but he couldn’t quite remember where he saw the woman.

Turning his head, he catches a glimpse of Steven in the glass. He’s gawking at her in awe. Oh shit. 

“Steven, is that the girl from last night?” Marc said quietly.

She’s a Benette?

Marc looks back quickly to confirm she was indeed standing with Lord Howard Benette, the oldest son of the Benette family.

“What’s the big problem? You’ve hunted with Howard multiple times.”

Yes, but…  I didn’t know that was his sister

“I’m gonna go talk to him” Marc said, quickly turning his attention towards the man and his supposed sister. Steven did have a point. He danced with the girl all night anyways. There should be no problem talking him up to the brother. 

The two were looking at quills when Marc approached them, the girl seemed surprised but the man was delighted to see the other gentleman.

“Mr. Grant! How delightful to see you. What are you doing here in town?” Howard shook his hand as Marc tried to collect his thoughts.

“I could ask you the same, Benette. It’s not everyday you see the Lord walking around.” Marc tried to mimic Steven’s accent, but it was not very good.

“Yes, well, a family outing is long overdue. Speaking of, Mr. Grant, please meet my sister, y/n.” He brings his attention to the girl standing on his side. When Marc looks over he notices you staring at him with the most wonderstruck eyes.

“Good Afternoon Miss Benette.” Marc smiles softly at you, taking a small bow. You giggle and nod back at him.

“Hello Mr. Grant. Lovely to make your acquaintance.” As you spoke, Marc realized what Steven had seen in you. Why he had fallen head over heels. You really were a lovely sight to behold. Your skin looked soft, your hair was long and pinned up in curls, and you had the sweetest smile.

I know what you’re thinking, and I will accept an apology later. 

This comment made Marc smirk. There were times he wished he couldn’t hear Steven (Or Jake for that matter) rambling in their head.

“Lord Benette, I do believe I met your sister last night at the ball. I must insist on a call tomorrow.” Marc said with a smile on his face.

Wait. What? He heard Steven scream in his head. He did exactly what he knew Steven wouldn’t, and now the other had to deal with that.

“Oh that would be a wonderful thing, don’t you agree?” Howard turned his attention towards you and Marc saw the smile spread across your face widen.

“That sounds like a wonderful time. I look forward to your call, Mr. Grant.” With that last comment, you turned and walked out the store. Howard said his goodbye and followed behind you. 

A warning would have been nice, yeah? Steven grunted

Marc rushed to buy the stationary he needed and left the store. He couldn’t help giving Steven that small nudge. He needed it anyway. Hopefully, Steven doesn’t fuck it up this time.

Dearest Readers,

It has come to my attention that a flame has been set ablaze. Mister Steven Grant may have begun his courtship with our beloved diamond! How exhilarating this romance must seem, however to the other suitors this will be a very sad moment. It seems that this match, in which I predicted to be the very best, has been the gossip of almost every household of the ton. May we be seeing the bloom of a beautiful proposal, or the raging of a fire that will be sadly blown out by a storm? The answer, dear reader, may surprise you. My watchful eye has been and will always be trained to spot each rise and downfall. That being said, I will continue to watch this romance and update you with the latest thread.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers,

1 April, 1815

“Ugh, that woman makes me want to tear my hair out!” You hear your mother say as she sets the paper on the table in front of her.

“What do you mean, Mama?” You hear your older sister say. Looking up from your tea you see your mother waving the paper around.

“This Whistledown woman is exasperating! She either loves this match or she doesn’t! She must make up her mind.” Hearing this comment makes you stand up immediately. Doing so makes everyone in the room turn in your direction.

“I- I must be getting ready. I do believe Mr. Grant said he would call on me around noon.” You turn and leave the room. Once you turned the corner of the hall, you backed against the wall taking a deep breath.

You couldn’t believe that this was finally happening. All thanks to your brother officially introducing him to you. The butterflies you felt in your stomach were very much real. However, you could only hope that he would court you properly.

Making it to your room finally, your lady maid, Emma, helped you pick out a very pretty lavender dress. Your hair was done in curls and pinned up to the latest fashion. When you were fully ready, you had to do the hardest thing of all. Wait.

Not that you were an impatient girl, you were just too excited for Mr. Grant to call on you. Dancing with him at the Masquerade had been the highlight of your evening, and you didn’t want to dance with anyone else after.

You walked back down to the parlor room to show your mother the dress you and Emma had picked out for the gentleman’s call. She looked absolutely delighted when you did a full turn.

“Oh blessed, You truly are the Diamond of the Season.” She raved. “Look how beautiful you are.”

“I truly cannot wait another minute, mama.” You said.

“Patience, my dear, He shall be here soon.” She glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. “Your brother shall also be here any minute to chaperone you both.”

You blushed lightly, the rose dusting on your cheeks only enhanced this. This was actually about to happen. You really couldn’t believe it. Sitting down, you waited quietly until your brother came and gave you a talk of what was about to happen.

On the other side of town, Steven paced his office in nervousness. He had never courted a woman before, let alone talked to the most beautiful person he has seen in his life. 

Would you stop with the pacing for five minutes? It was Marc, and he sounded very annoyed.

“I just don’t think I can do this” He quivered. “Why did you get me into this mess?” 

Because you need to find a wife before we die alone. Marc spat. Or would you rather we never find love?

Steven shook his head. Of course he didn’t want to die alone, without any kids or family of his own.

“What if she doesn’t take the news of all of us well though?” Steven looked in the mirror. He could see Marc’s reflection looking back at him. It wasn’t his usual hard look. Steven could tell he was deep in thought.

He took a look at the golden plate sitting on the shelf and saw Jake staring back at him.

How about we take turns courting her? Jake stated. This made Steven perk up a bit. That could actually work, and Jake never really stepped in unless both he and Marc were having trouble with their thoughts.

Looking back at the plate, Steven saw Marc shrug and nod his head.

“Yeah alright, then, that sounds like it could actually work!” Steven said excitedly. “I could go first and Marc could give it a go, and Jake can if he really feels like it!”

Steven. The time. Marc got his attention.

Steven looked at his pocket watch and realized he needed to get going. He took a deep breath, and left his office. He alerted the staff that he was going out and he would be back later that evening.

As he approached the Benette residence, he could feel the pit of his stomach be set ablaze by the pure excitement of officially courting you.

Once the carriage stopped, he stepped out into the crisp spring air, and made his way towards the door. Stopping to take a deep breath, he knocked three times and waited for the butler to answer. 

The door opened and there stood a stout older gentleman awaiting his arrival.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Grant. I believe Lord and Lady Benette have been expecting you.” The old man stepped aside to let Steven in.

Once inside, the older man led him to the entrance of the parlor where everyone had been waiting for his arrival.

“May I introduce, Mr. Steven Grant, here for Miss Benette.” He announced to the room and left hurriedly.

Steven stepped into the door and bowed to everyone in the room.

“Good Morning, Lord and Lady Benette.” He stutterd lightly. “Happy to make your acquaintance.”

Lord Benette stood from his seat and walked over to Steven extending his hand. Steven took and shook his hand firmly.

“Very nice! Very nice handshake, young man!” The gray haired man said. “I admire that about another man, a nice firm handshake shows promise!”

Then Lady Benette stood and walked over to Steven. She smiled at him as he bowed to her and gently grabbed her hand.

“What a gentleman indeed.” She quipped. “You must tell me where you learned such excellent manners.”

“My Governess was one of a kind, my lady.” He chuckled. 

Great charm, Steven. Keep it up. Steven could hear Marc say. This really began to boost his confidence. 

“Let me go fetch our daughter, she has been waiting all morning for you.” She laughed.

As she left the room, Howard entered and his face brightened at the sight of Steven.

“Grant! Good to see you this morning!” He said then turned to his father. “Father, Steven Grant and I were schoolmates in Brighton!”

“Is that so? Tell me, young man, what did you study and what do you do?” Lord Benette inquired.

“I studied Archaeology, My Lord. I find it absolutely fascinating discovering ancient relics and cities.” He said truthfully. “I am currently a curator at the British Museum in London, sir”

Lord Benette seemed pleased by his answer. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. They all continued to talk while they awaited the young lady to arrive.

Once you had entered the room, Steven noticed immediately. He turned fully to face and bowed to you. You curtsied back to him as he made his way towards you. Extending your hand to him and he happily took it and kissed your knuckles.

“Good Afternoon, Miss Benette.” Steven said awfully quiet. He was just taken aback by your beauty.

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Grant.” You replied, a light blush spreading across your face.

After a brief moment of staring at each other. Howard stepped in and cleared his throat.

“We should probably get a move on if we want to catch the Hot Air Balloons taking off.” He stated.

“Ah yes, we probably shall then.” Steven agreed and turned to Lord Benette once more. “It was an honor to meet you sir.”

“Please, this was a pleasure! I shall see you soon, my boy!” He chuckled happily.

Steven held his hand out to you, which you happily took. He helped her into the carriage following after your brother. This was turning out to be an excellent call. Something he never thought once would happen.

The carriage pulled up to the airfield and once Steven had exited the car, he helped you out onto the grassy area. It wasn’t too hot outside, but you definitely feel the sun blazing your skin. Though seeing all the large balloons getting ready to fly took your mind off of the heat.

Your brother and Steven chatted for a bit, and then Howard left to chat with another one of his friends leaving both you and Steven alone for a brief moment.

“Miss Benette, if I may ask, were you excited for this visit today?” Steven asked bluntly. You were honestly a little surprised by the question.

“Yes, very. I did rather fancy being able to see you again after the last ball.” You blushed. You could see him smile at your comment. 

“I was eager to see you again, but not knowing your name put me in a very hard predicament.” He replied. What an idiot you were. Of course you forgot to tell this man your name. However, no sense of dwelling on that now.

“Now let me ask you something, Mr. Grant.” You started. “What are things you like to do for fun?”

Now it was finally your turn to learn about him and his background. This excited you. Learning how he was an archaeologist, and how he talked about the ancient Egyptians and Egyptian gods. He was very fascinating.

Once he was done, he asked about you in return. You told him of your hobbies, how many languages you spoke, and how you had always wanted to travel. When the conversation seemed to falter, you saw the gleam in his eyes change slightly.

“Do you speak any other languages?” You ask out of curiosity.

He nodded and cleared his throat.

“I know Spanish, French, and Arabic. It is something I am passionate about.” He said, though you noticed his accent had changed just a bit. It wasn’t enough to concern you though. 

You both talked more about his travels and education. You even learned that he had been to Africa on an expedition to find an ancient temple.

“Would you ever take me on an expedition, Mr. Grant?” You asked him and grabbed onto his arm. Once again, his eyes changed at a moment's notice.

“If it is not too dangerous, we can discuss the option to.” He stared and smiled slightly at you.

This was exhilarating to talk about. The potential to travel the world with someone who could very much fall in love with and marry. You glance over and notice that he is staring at you intensely. When he notices you looking back, he smiles and holds out his arm.

You both begin to walk around the field, speaking to the pilots of the Hot Air Balloons. This was the highlight of your day. After a few hours, you both head back to the viewing area to watch them lift off. Howard is there waiting for the both of you, with a big smile spread across his face.

He and Steven spoke about the mechanics on the Balloons and you stood and listened to their conversation. All you could feel at the moment was absolute joy. When it was finally time to go you all headed back to the carriage and went on your way.

You all made it back to your residence, and you began to realize this was the end of your visit. It made you sad to think about. When you all had exited the carriage, it was time to say goodbye. Steven chatted with your brother a bit before turning to you.

“Miss Benette, if I may ask, would you accompany me to the next ball?” He asked. “If that is acceptable with your older brother?”

Howard smiled brightly, “Indeed it is! What do you say to Mr. Grant’s request?” Your brother turned to you questioningly.

“It would be an absolute pleasure, Mr. Grant.” You say as you smile at him. He smiles warmly back at you. And with a tip of his hat, he was gone. It was sad watching him leave, however, now you were truly excited for the ball coming in two days time. 

Once you and your brother got back inside, he began to question how the visit went while he was away.

“So! Tell me! You like him, do you not?” He asked playfully.

“Howard! Shh!” You giggled. “It is true. I do have quite a fondness for him.”

“Then it is settled. I will not allow any other man to come between the two of you.” He stated. “I will go speak with him tomorrow about it.”

You smile.”And what of mama and papa?”

“I believe that they already approve of this match.” He said matter of factly.

“Is that so?” You wondered.

You walk back to the parlor, daydreaming of your future with Mr. Steven Grant.

The next few days flew by in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it Steven was standing in a crowded room of people he had barely met, waiting for you to arrive. To say that he was excited was very much an understatement.

Everything was going smoothly. He had spoken to a few of his colleagues and dodged hopeless mamas in search of any man to hand their daughters off to.

Then you finally arrived. Your brother was the one who found him first. Giving Steven a firm pat on the back.

“Good to see you again, Old Friend!” He shouted happily. “How are you feeling tonight?”

“A bit nervous, but I am excited to see where tonight takes us.” Steven replied. “I’m glad we spoke the other day.”

Howard bowed his head. Steven knew that his old friend wanted nothing but the best for them. His sister finally joined them as they were speaking in hushed voices.

“Mr. Grant, lovely to see you again.” You curtsied at him and he bowed back in response.

“Miss Benette, you look absolutely beautiful.” He said in awe, earning a blush that was slowly creeping onto the apples of your cheeks. “Would you care for a dance?”

“I would be delighted.” You reply quickly.

The music started to play softly as Steven took you to the dance floor. In a moment, Marc took over since he was the more coordinating dancer of the lot. He tried to keep their expression soft to mimic Stevens. He concentrated on you as they waltzed around the dance floor with the other patrons of the ball.

He was indeed having fun with you. For the first time, in a very long time, he genuinely smiled. This sparked a flame within Marc as such as the first time you danced with Steven. Now there were two of them falling deeply in love with the woman in front of them.

Once the song ended, they both bowed to each other and smiled. There was definitely a connection between the two people. Marc extended his hand and took you to the balcony. It was quiet and there were barely any people around. She rested her head against his shoulder as they stared at the stars together.

Are you ready for this, mate?  Marc heard Steven ask. He took a deep breath and nodded slightly before letting Steven take back over.

Don’t fuck this up.  Marc said before Steven began to talk.

“Miss Benette?” Steven asked before pulling away from you. “There is something I need to discuss with you.”

She turned to look at him, a bit confused. 

“You can tell me anything, Mr. Grant.” She smiled.

“Well, the truth is, I came out here with you to propose.” He stated. He saw her face light up instantly. “But I do need to tell you the truth about something rather serious.”

He could tell you were confused by the way your eyebrows knitted together. Marc did the same thing when he was confused.

“It’s not the easiest thing to speak of, but I have been going through this ever since I was a child.”

“Steven.” You said softly. This made him look up at you. “Please tell me everything.”

So that’s where he began. He told you about his brother, and his mother. The trauma that he had experienced as a child. And now the moment of truth.

“Oh Steven, that sounds awful, I am so sorry.” You rubbed his arm.

“I just, there is one more thing about it all.” He took a deep breath. “I have two other separate personalities inside of me.”

Now you definitely looked confused.

“I do not understand, what do you mean by that?” You asked.

“I mean, There are two other people inside of this one mind.” He explained softly. “There are technically three of us.”

“You must be jesting.” You giggled.

“Miss Benette, I am being quite serious.” It was Marc who took over. You saw the gleam change in his eyes and then you finally understood.

“Wait, so then if there are three of you in one mind, then are they all called Steven Grant?” You asked quite seriously. You were trying to understand the whole situation, which they understood completely. 

“No, Steven Grant is just the main one.” Marc spoke, turning towards you. “My name is Marc, Marc Spector. We just danced in the ballroom together.”

Your mouth was gaped open. You really couldn’t believe what you were witnessing.

“I knew there was something off about your dancing.” You stated. “It didn’t seem like Steven at all.”

“You would be correct about that statement, mi corazón.” The sudden change of voice made you jump.

“And now are you the third one?” You looked at him puzzled.

“Si, the third and final one. Jake Lockely, at your service, princesa.” He bowed at you.

This was all so much for you to take in. You didn’t know where to begin. 

“Can I.. Can I speak to Steven?” You asked softly. He nodded and then in a flash you saw Steven’s eyes brighten back into himself.

As he looked into your eyes, he saw the glimpse of tears beginning to form. Without thinking, he brought a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Hey there, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, but you needed to know.” He tried soothing you. “I didn’t want you to say yes and it be hidden for our entire lives.”

You sniffled as he explained. It did make a lot more sense. Something you always valued was honesty, just like you saw between your own mother and father.

“I accept then.” You announce.

“Pardon?” Steven looked to you in confusion.

“I accept your proposal.” You respond a little more clearly.

“You do?” He asks and you nod. “You do! Oh blessed!”

He takes you by the waist and lifts you into a spin. You giggle in delight as he sets you down.

“On one condition.”

“Anything.” He agrees.

“This must be kept between only us, and you must announce who is speaking until I can figure you all out”

“We accept this condition.”

Dearest Readers,

It seems that my trained eyes were correct. An engagement between this season’s Diamond and Mr. Steven Grant has been officially announced. Though this news comes two weeks later, I am delighted to say this marriage will be held tomorrow in the beautiful garden of the Benette Residency. Those with invitations will be sure to witness a beautiful ceremony, and reception.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

4 May, 1815

You stood on the pedestal as the seamstress added the finishing touches to your wedding dress. The day you had waited for finally arrived. As you took in the intricate details of your gown, a knock on the door interrupted the quiet room. It swung open to reveal your brother, Howard, with a warm smile on his face.

"You look radiant, dear sister," Howard praised as he stepped into the room. "Are you ready for this momentous occasion?"

Turning to him, your eyes glistened with joyful tears. “It still feels like a dream.”

Your brother chuckled softly and approached you, adjusting a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, this dream is about to become a beautiful reality. Steven is a good man, and I have no doubt that he will make you happy.”

As Howard's words sank in, a sense of calm washed over you. You were grateful for your brother's support and understanding. The journey to this moment had been filled with unexpected twists and turns, but here you were, on the brink of a new chapter in your life.

"Yes, he is a good man," you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips. "And I am ready to embark on this new adventure with him."

Howard's eyes gleamed with pride as he took your hands in his. "Remember, no matter what challenges may come your way, you have the strength and resilience to overcome them. And you will always have family who loves you unconditionally."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you embraced your brother. His unwavering support meant the world to you, especially on a day as significant as this. As you pulled away, a knock at the door. You both look up to see your mother standing there.

With a soft smile, your mother entered the room, her eyes filled with tears of joy at the sight of her daughter in her wedding dress. She walked towards you, her steps deliberate yet filled with love and pride.

"My dearest child," she began, her voice trembling. "You look absolutely stunning. I cannot believe how quickly time has passed, and now you are about to start this new chapter of your life."

You embraced your mother, feeling her warmth and love enveloping you. The three of you stood there in a moment of shared happiness and anticipation for the future.

"Mama, Howard," you said, your voice filled with gratitude. "I am so thankful to have both of you by my side today. Your love and support mean everything to me."

As the three of you shared a tender embrace, the sound of distant music and muffled chatter reached your ears. The realization that the ceremony was about to begin spread a wave of excitement through the room.

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture and met the loving gazes of your mother and brother. They offered you reassuring smiles, filling you with a sense of calm.

"It's time," your mother said softly. "Let's make our way to the garden.”

Taking your brother’s arm, you made your way through the corridors of your home. The soft rustle of your gown against the marble floors seemed to echo your heartbeat as it quickened with each step.

As you approached the double doors leading to the garden, they swung open, revealing a breathtaking scene. 

The garden was transformed into a fairytale setting, with an array of colorful flowers adorning every corner. The soft scent of roses and lilies mingled in the air, creating an ambiance of pure enchantment. Guests were seated in white chairs, their eyes eagerly awaiting the arrival of the bride.

As you stepped out into the sunlight, a hush fell over the audience. All eyes were on you, the vision of beauty and grace walking down the aisle. Your heart swelled as you locked eyes with Steven at the altar. His eyes filled with love, and for the first time you knew for sure it was Steven.

The gentle melody of a string quartet filled the air as you made your way towards your beloved. Every step felt like a dream, and time seemed to stand still as you reached the end of the aisle.

He looked at you with such tenderness and adoration that tears welled up in your eyes.

Steven extended his hand towards you, a wide smile spreading across his face. Taking his hand in yours, you could barely hear his whisper over the pounding of your heart. “You look absolutely stunning.” His soft voice reaching your ears. “I am the luckiest man in the world to have you as my bride.”

You smile gently to him and whisper back, “And I am the luckiest bride in the world to have you become my husband.”

The officiant began the ceremony, the sounds of nature seemed to join in as well. Birds sang in harmony as you both exchanged vows. The words spoken were filled with love and promises for a future together, a future you and Steven both dreamed of.

When the time came to exchange rings, Steven took your hand in his, his touch sending a wave of warmth through you. The ring slid easily onto your finger, a symbol of his commitment and love for you. Then came your turn to place the ring on his finger, sealing your own vows with a promise of forever.

As the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, cheers erupted from your guests, filling the garden with jubilant energy. Steven pulled you close, his lips meeting yours in a sweet and tender kiss. The electricity of the kiss sent a shiver down your spine. You were disappointed when he finally pulled away.

“Later, my love.” The change in his voice didn’t startle you. Just like you had recognized Steven earlier, you knew this was Marc. You smiled shyly at your husband and nodded.

The reception was a celebration of love and joy, with guests laughing and dancing under the twinkling lights that adorned the garden. You and Steven danced together, your heart overflowing with happiness at the realization of your love for each other.

Nearby, Howard raised his glass for a toast, his voice clear and filled with emotion. "To my dear sister and her charming husband, Steven. May your love continue to grow stronger with each passing day, and may your days be filled with laughter and joy."

The guests echoed their approval with heartfelt cheers, and you felt a surge of gratitude for the love and support that surrounded you. As the evening progressed, you found yourself stealing glances at Steven who seemed to navigate the crowd effortlessly.

He caught your eye from across the room and smiled warmly at you. Making your way through the throng of well-wishers, you finally stood face to face with your new husband.

“We should announce our leave, darling.” He said softly.

You nodded in agreement, feeling a tinge of nervousness about what the future of the night held. As Steven led you through the crowd towards the center of the garden, the guests gradually quieted down, turning their attention towards you both.

Steven raised his glass, the tinkling sound cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "Friends and family," he began, his voice carrying with warmth. "We want to thank each and every one of you for being here today to witness our union. Your presence has made this day even more special, and we are truly grateful."

You watched as Steven's eyes nervously scanned the faces before him, his gaze finally settling on you with a look that spoke volumes. Clearing his throat lightly, he continued, "As we embark on this journey together as husband and wife, we are filled with hope for a future filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. We are incredibly blessed to have such wonderful people in our lives.”

There was a round of applause from the guests, their faces beaming with happiness for you and Steven. You felt a swell of emotion in your chest, overwhelmed by the love and support surrounding you on this magical day.

Within those few short moments of saying goodbye to your family, you felt the nerves of traveling across town to your new home to melt away as you and Steven climbed into the carriage.

The carriage ride was a quiet one, with only the sounds of the horses' hooves against the cobblestone streets breaking the silence. You sat close to Steven, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as if to reassure you.

You couldn't help but steal glances at your husband. The dim light of the lanterns cast a soft glow on his features, highlighting the contours of his face. Steven caught your gaze and offered you a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the love and affection he held for you.

“Is there something on my face, love?” He asks as you continued to stare.

“Oh!” You blush, and look away quickly. “No, nothing of the sort.”

“Were you just admiring?” His voice changed slightly causing you to look back.

You smile, “Of course.”

This caused Marc to chuckle, and reach out to take your hand. Bringing your knuckles to his lips he kisses them softly. There is a small gap of your lips as he does so.

“Will I be spending our first night with you, Marc?”

He seemed a bit surprised that you said his name. However his shock was replaced with a hint of a dark tint in his eyes. “No, my dear, not unless that is your request.”

You giggle, “Maybe another time. I would very much like Steven to be the consummator of this marriage.”

“As you wish.” He smiles, and the softness returns to Steven’s eyes.

“There you are, darling.” You say softly.

The carriage rolls to a stop in front of an elegant townhouse adorned with ivy climbing up its brick exterior. As you step out onto the cobblestone path, Steven's hand reaches out and you take it instinctively.

The door opens, revealing a warmly lit foyer with flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the walls. Steven guides you inside, his presence a comforting anchor to your oncoming nerves. In the hallway of the home, a few servants stand and Steven introduces you to each of them. Your new lady’s maid is a small older woman with a gentle smile.

After the brief introductions, he leads you up the staircase to the bedroom you both will be sharing. You felt a slight shake in your hands as you realized what was about to happen. Your mother had explained how the marriage will be sealed on your first night alone. You didn’t want to admit how nervous it made you feel.

As you entered the bedroom, you saw the warm glow of the fireplace. The soft colors and flowers on the bedside table put a bit of ease over you. Steven led you to the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with tenderness and understanding. He could sense your apprehension and paused, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Darling, there is no need to rush anything tonight,” he said softly, his voice soothing you. “We have all the time in the world to explore this new chapter of our lives.”

His words eased some of your tension, and you felt a sense of gratitude for his patience and understanding. Steven moved to stand in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face as he looked into your eyes with unwavering affection.

“You are my partner in every sense of the word,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “I want nothing more than for us to build our relationship on a foundation of love and trust.”

“I…” You begin, but your words fall short.

“What is it, my love?”

“I want to…”

“You want to have me tonight?”

You blush and nod as he finishes what you had been wanting to say. Steven's eyes softened with understanding as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Then it shall be as you wish,” he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness.

He takes your hand and helps you stand. Slowly removing his jacket and vest. You watch as his eyes darkened with lust as he stares at you. A blush forming on your cheeks.

Once he removes his vest, he steps towards you and kisses you softly. Gently cupping your cheeks as if to ground you into the kiss. His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, easing the last of your reservations.

The kiss deepens, igniting a fire within you as Steven’s hands roam your body with a gentle yet possessive urgency. Your heart races as you feel his fingers begin to unbutton the top layer of your dress. As he unbuttons the last part, the soft fabric of your dress falls and pools around your feet.

Steven’s lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of tingling warmth in their wake. With each layer of clothing shed between you, you feel the urgency of wanting to be closer to him.

Finally, in the flickering light of the fireplace, you stand before each other in all your vulnerability and desire. He stares at you, his eyes roaming your now naked form.

“So beautiful.” He whispers. “A goddess amongst men, and she is in my wake.”

The blush on your cheeks deepen, and he steps closer to you. His hands grab onto your waist and lift you onto the edge of the bed.

“Lay back against the pillows, my love.” He instructs softly.

As you lay back against the soft pillows, Steven’s gaze never leaves yours. His eyes are dark with desire, it was nothing like you had seen before. He leans in to press a trail of kisses along your collarbone, his hands tracing patterns on your skin.

Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire deep within your core. Steven’s hands move with purpose, exploring every curve and dip of your body as if committing it to memory. His lips find yours once more in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

The heat between the both of you is intoxicating. You feel something hard against your thigh and you look down. A blush begins to creep up his face.

“Sorry, I’m a bit too excited.” He mumbles and you smile softly.

“It’s quite alright,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you reach down to run your hand along his length.

Steven’s breath hitches at your touch, a low groan escaping his lips as he slowly thrusts against your hand. His eyes search yours, seeking permission and reassurance. You meet his gaze with unwavering trust and desire, silently giving him the consent he seeks.

Without breaking eye contact, Steven positions himself above you and presses the tip of his member against your entrance.

“This might feel a bit uncomfortable, love. I promise to stop if you do not like it.”

You nod and look deep into his eyes. He slowly guides himself inside you, the heat and tightness wrapping around him like a warm embrace. A gasp escapes your lips at the feeling of being joined so intimately with him, a mixture of pleasure and slight discomfort washing over you.

Steven’s movements are slow and gentle, his hands holding onto yours as if to anchor himself in this moment. He whispers sweet words of adoration and reassurance, his eyes never leaving yours as he moves with a careful rhythm that soon becomes a dance of shared passion.

As the initial discomfort fades, waves of pleasure begin to build within you, each thrust sending sparks of ecstasy through your body. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled gasps and moans.

“Such a good girl.” He praises, causing you to let out a soft moan.

You had never been spoken to like this. It sent waves of pleasure down your spine as he continued to whisper praises into your ear. In this intimate moment, there is only you and Steven, bodies moving together in a sacred union of love and desire.

As the intensity builds, you arch your back and wrap your legs around Steven, pulling him closer. His eyes meet yours, filled with passion and devotion.

"I love you," he hisses, and the words send a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Each word, each thrust, brings you closer to the edge. The pleasure builds and builds until it's almost too much to bear.

“I feel funny.” You moan out.

“I know, darling, let go for me.” He responds quickly.

You don’t understand what he means until the pressure in your lower stomach explodes. You grip Steven’s shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as you cry out his name. Your body shaking with intense pleasure. Steven groans and thrusts one last time as he finds his release, filling you with his warmth and completing the bond between you.

His breath is ragged and heavy against your skin. You are still pulsing around his semi-hard length, causing him to groan. As he pulls out, you gasp at the sudden emptiness within you.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks, concern in his voice.

You smile weakly and nod. “Yes, I am. That was… more intense than I anticipated.”

Steven smiles down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m glad.” He gently kisses your forehead.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow, Steven's hand strokes your hair while his other arm holds you close to him. For a moment, all is still and calm.

“This is… different.” you murmur, thinking about all that just happened.

“Different” He repeats “A good different, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Silence envelopes the both of you.

“I have never felt this way before.” He admits. “I never thought I would find love like this.”

You turn your head to look up at him. “Because of… your condition?”

He nods, and kisses your forehead. You snuggle closer to him, feeling content and safe in his arms.

“Marc and I were always too scared, too cautious…but then I saw you.” He says softly, ”And you changed our entire perspective.”

You smile, feeling warmed by his words. "I'm glad I could do that for you."

"I love you," Steven whispers into your ear, holding you tighter.

You smile and whisper back, "I love you too."

Both of you doze off to sleep, cradled in each other's arms, content in the knowledge that no matter what the world throws your way, you have each other to lean on. And with that comforting thought, sleep claims you both.

Epilogue

You sit in the large garden of your family’s summer home and watch as your brother and husband play cricket with the rest of the young men on your side of the family. Your hand rests on the swell of your pregnant belly, your first child, which Steven was delighted to find out about.

The sun was setting, casting a warm golden hue over the scene. Your thoughts drifted back to the night you first shared together. The feelings of love and vulnerability still lingered in your heart, wrapping you in a cocoon of cherished memories. But more than that, you felt a sense of gratitude for finding someone who understood and accepted you just as you were.

Steven looked up and caught your gaze, his eyes locking onto yours across the distance. A smile spread across his face as he raised his hand in a silent greeting. You returned the gesture with a warm smile of your own, feeling an intense surge of love for him.

As the men finished up, you waited for Steven to run over to you and help you out of your seat. You both walked back to the house slowly.

“Did you ever think life would come to be like this?” you ask softly.

“Never in a million years, my darling.”

You both stop walking and turn towards each other. “I am excited for the future.” you say.

“So are we.” He says gently and places a hand on your bump. You place your hand gently on top of his, smiling up at him.

Steven leans down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I will love you till the end of time, love.”

“My moon.”

“My star.”

And with those sweet words, you both continue walking back to the house. The sun set behind you, casting long shadows on the path ahead as your shared journey continued filled with love and hope.

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[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Six - Splendid

♡♡♡

"Eloise Bridgerton."

Benedict calls his sister when he finds her smoking on the swing set in their garden. He sounded stern, as if scolding her.

Eloise groans softly as she turns on the swing. "Go on, then." She lifts the cigarette to her lips. "Chastise me."

"Spare one for me?" He asks.

Eloise is surprised by his question. He comes and sits on the other swing beside her. She holds a cigarette out to him, and he takes it, putting it between his lips and lighting it.

"Suppose I desire something different." Eloise says.

"How do you mean?"

"Just different. I watch Daphne prepare for these balls with all of those dresses and the many suitors, and I am exhausted. Suppose I want a different life, Benedict. That I truly believe I am quite capable of something more, even when I'm not allowed to have anything else."

"Then I would say... that you're not the only one." He looks at her. They smile at each other.

♡♡♡

With the next edition of Whistledown comes fascinating gossip. You find yourself, for once, clutching the paper with the need to read more.

It has become apparent that Lord Berbrooke has a child out of wedlock, and not only that, with a maid he had sent away before the child was even born. He pays nothing for the child, it seems.

Your mother had been gossiping about with the other ladies she had over for afternoon tea. In turn, their maids had gone off to gossip further.

Word spread like wildfire.

The next day, Lord Berbrooke had left town suddenly.

You made it a point to go visit Daphne. You were taken up to the drawing room where she awaited you, a smile on her face as you came in.

"It's nice of you to visit."

You take a seat with her. "I wanted to see how you were."

"I have expected you come see my brother," she admits.

"Benedict? As much as he has become my friend, I felt the need to come see you. Are you alright?"

"I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders." She smiles softly. "I am glad he is gone."

"As am I. Wretched man, he was."

You both giggle softly.

"So, the duke? He is still on your favour?" You ask.

Daphne goes silent for a moment, and then her face twitches. A realisation. The realisation she must still pretend.

"Ah, yes." She smiles.

You smile in return and take her hand. "You make a most handsome couple."

"Thank you." Her voice wavers.

You do not bring up Hastings or Berbrooke again as you have tea with Daphne. The conversation becomes pleasant. Daphne finds herself talking to you about anything that comes to mind. Not once has any of her siblings sat down and listened to her like this.

It felt nice. Really nice.

An hour passes, and you find the teapot has been emptied twice in that time. There are no more biscuits to share either. You rise from the soft sofa and gather you purse.

"Thank you for letting me visit."

"Oh, nonsense. You are always welcome." Daphne smiles.

"I shall visit again then."

Daphne looks pleased by your words.

"Benedict will be so disappointed you came by and didn't stop to see him."

You chuckle. "Let him suffer. It may humble him."

Daphne chuckles and sees you out.

♡♡♡

The next ball is as dazzling as the others. You swear with each one, Daphne gets more and more beautiful. She enters with the Duke. Of course, everyone sees.

You entered with your mother, no one paying you any mind what so ever. Not that you minded any more. You had come to terms that no one would visit you.

As Simon and Daphne dance, you decide to take a walk. You have no idea what it is they discuss when alone together.

You keep your eyes peeled for any familiar faces. Yet, no one else is present in this current room.

Meanwhile, Daphne parts from Simon and is approached by another gentleman. Her wish to find a husband and have a family may very well come true.

As you enter the next room, you find Anthony in there talking with some others. His gaze lands on you, and he excuses himself from the current conversation. He approaches you.

You smile and bow your head. "Lord Bridgerton."

"Anthony, please. You call my brothers by their name."

You smile. "Anthony."

"Benedict isn't here, I'm afraid. He has elected to sit this one out. May I have the honour?" He holds out his hand.

You take a moment to take in his request. Anthony was head of his family. A viscount. Dancing with him would surely bring you attention.

You place your hand in his. "You may."

Anthony takes you back into the other room and leads you to the dance floor. He holds you as a gentleman should while dancing with a lady. You both move with the music.

Anthony look very firm as he dances with you.

"I must say, this is an honour."

"Is it?" He asks.

"I never see you dance."

"No. I suppose not. I am not beyond dancing with friends." He says kindly.

"Then I am even more so honoured to be considered such."

You both continue dancing until the music ends. You curtsy, he bows. Anthony takes your hand and leads you back to the side of the room. With swift ease, he marks his name down on your dance card.

"I shall see to it you are never left without a dance partner, my lady," he says with a bow.

You smile.

As Anthony returns to the party, you find yourself now being looked at by others. There are gentlemen looking your way.

Could it be true that Daphne is not the only one who can shine?

Soon, you are dancing again, and a few more names are scribbled across your dance card.

You think, perhaps, Daphne Bridgerton is your good luck charm.

It makes you giddy.

Safe to say, your night was splendid indeed.

♡♡♡

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[rafayelxsylusho]

I got this idea from tt ❤️

Scene from the titanic with Rafayel 🐡.

Enjoy!

TW: Smut

Rafayel carefully lifted the glittering necklace, the diamonds catching the moonlight spilling in through the balcony doors. He held it up, watching the gems refract the light into a dazzling display of color.

"Whew, that's nice! What is it a sapphire? It's stunning," he murmured, admiring the way the deep blue stones seemed to hold the vast expanse of the night sky within their depths. "Your grandmother had impeccable taste."

"It's a diamond, a very rare diamond" you say licking your lips nervously.

Rafayel's brow furrowed slightly as he examined the necklace more closely, he leaned in, bringing the glittering pendant closer to his eyes.

"Rafayel, I want you to draw me wearing this." He was still examining the necklace intently "alright" he said, then you added, "wearing only this." At those words, Rafayel's head snapped up and he turned to look at you, his cheeks flushed slightly at the bold suggestion, not quite expecting such forwardness but the idea sent a thrill through him nonetheless.

He swallowed thickly, his gaze roaming over you as he tried to picture it, the way the diamond necklace would sparkle against your bare skin, drawing the eye to all the right places. The sheer audacity of the image made his heart race. He licked his lips, a flicker of desire sparking in his eyes as he met your gaze.

"I...I suppose I could draw you like that. If you're certain that's what you want," he breathed, anticipation warring in his expression. The cool night air seemed to crackle with a sudden charge of tension. "Shall I...shall I start setting up my easel?"

Minutes felt like hours as he waited, heart pounding in his chest. Rafayel busied himself with setting up his easel and sketching supplies. Finally, he heard the soft patter of your footsteps on the plush carpet, drawing closer. Rafayel gripped his charcoal pencil tighter, palms suddenly clammy with a mix of nerves and excitement.

Then, there you were. Standing before him in nothing but that sinful black robe, the sheer fabric clinging to your curves and leaving little to the imagination. The diamond necklace glimmered brilliantly against your skin, drawing his gaze to the elegant column of your throat and the swell of your...

Rafayel swallowed hard, eyes widening as he took in the glorious sight. His pencil trembled slightly in his fingertips. Rafayel's eyes flicked down to your fingers as they played with the belt of your robe, the silky black fabric swishing and swaying with the motion. He smiled, a playful glint entering his gaze.

You take a few steps closer to Rafayel, clutching the black robe tightly around you. "The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll" you say with a wry smile, holding out your free hand to dangle a quarter between your fingers. You toss the quarter towards Rafayel, the small coin glinting as it spins through the air. It lands in his palm with a soft clink. "As a paying customer," you say, your voice taking on a playful yet commanding tone, "I expect to get what I want." Rafayel catches the coin deftly, a slow grin spreading across his face as he pockets it.

You take a few steps back, heart pounding as you meet Rafayel's gaze. With a deep breath, you slowly untie your robe, the fabric falling open. A fierce blush spreads across your cheeks as you shrug the robe off your shoulders completely, letting it slip down to pool at your feet. You stand before him now, bare and exposed, the glittering necklace the only thing adorning your body. Your eyes shine with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you await Rafayel's reaction, your skin tingling under his heated gaze.

His gaze moves over your newly bared skin, his eyes widening as they drink in every curve and contour. His breathing grows heavier, lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words come. Instead, he simply stares, utterly transfixed by the breathtaking sight before him. Slowly, almost reverently, he raises his hands, pencil poised over the paper. His fingers tremble slightly, a mix of nerves and barely restrained desire. His eyes meet yours, and in their dark purple pink depths, you see the flames of his desire burning bright. He swallows hard, his voice slightly strained as he points a shaking hand towards the couch. His words come out in a stutter "O-over the bed...the couch" he manages to say, Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to regain his composure.

You walk towards the couch, the plush carpet soft beneath your bare feet. As you approach, Rafayel watches your every step, his gaze lingering on the sway of your hips and the graceful line of your back. You can feel the weight of his stare, the intensity of his focus.

Reaching the couch, you hesitate for a moment before lying down on the supple leather, the cool material a shock against your heated skin. You settle your weight onto the cushions, trying to find a comfortable position.

Rafayel sits in his chair across from you, sketchbook and pencil at the ready. He looks up at you, a nervous smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Go ahead and lie down" he instructs softly, his voice slightly husky.

As you settle onto your side on the couch, Rafayel watches intently, he notices your arm moving above your head before lowering, and he quickly corrects you. "Put your arm back the way it was," Rafayel instructs, his voice gentle yet firm. His eyes remain fixed on your naked form, drinking in every detail. "and lift your other arm, place your hand by your face. Like this" he demonstrates with his own hand, bringing it up to cradle his cheek, mirroring the pose he wants you to take.

His eyes follow the line of your body, taking in the graceful curve of your neck as you lower your head and meet his gaze. "Head down, eyes to me", he murmurs, his voice low and focused. "Keep them on me and try to stay still". You can't keep the smile off your face, but you clear your throat to try, the sound is soft and playful.

The pose accentuates your curves in a way that makes Rafayel's heart race. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his hand as he begins to sketch. his brow furrows in concentration, tongue poking slightly out the side of his mouth. He is utterly focused, the very picture of an artist lost in his craft.

Despite his intensity, a grin remains plastered on your face, amused by his serious demeanor. After a few moments, you can't help but tease him.

"So serious" you pout playfully, trying to keep your voice light.

"Not a word" there is a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He sets down his pencil for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm trying to work here"

He mimics your grin, but his expression quickly returns to one of stone-cold focus. "I'll have you know, art requires a great deal of...concentration." He draws out the last word, eyes glinting with a mix of intensity and playfulness.

"Now, hold still" Rafayel commands, picking his pencil back up and returning to his artwork. His gaze drops back to the paper, but you can see the faint blush coloring his cheeks, betraying his attempt to maintain his serious facade.

"I believe you are blushing Mr Big Artiste, I can't imagine Monsieur Monet blushing".

Rafayel chuckles softly, a genuine smile breaking through his serious facade at your playful jab. He shakes his head, a wry grin playing on his lips.

"No, I believe Monet preferred landscapes" he responds, a note of amusement in his voice. "I, on the other hand, have a more...specialized interest." His gaze drags over your naked form appreciatively "Just relax your face," he instructs, his voice low and calm. "No laughing"

"Sorry"

Rafayel watches as you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself and still the playful grin that threatens to spread across your face. He nods approvingly as he sees your expression smooth out, the laughter fading from your eyes.

"That's better," his voice low and serious. "Just like that. Stay relaxed and keep your eyes on me."

Rafayel continues drawing, his hand moving with practiced ease across the paper. Strands of his dark hair slip down his forehead as he leans over the sketchbook. He absently swipes at them with the back of his smudged hand, not wanting anything to distract from his intense focus on capturing your form. His eyes remain fixed on you, gaze roaming over every curve and contour, committing each detail to memory. The only sounds in the room are the soft scratching of the pencil against the paper and the occasional rustle of fabric as Rafayel shifts slightly in his seat.

He works diligently, pouring his concentration and skill into the portrait, determined to do justice to the breathtaking subject before him. The air between you feels charged, heavy with a mix of artistic intensity and unspoken desire. He leans back in his chair, squinting at the portrait as he makes a few final adjustments with his pencil. "Almost...done" he murmurs to himself, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "Just a few more..."

Lost in his artistic work, Rafayel doesn't immediately notice as you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the couch. Standing up, you wrap the robe around your waist and tie it tightly, the cool material a soothing contrast against your skin. Your hair falls in waves around your face and shoulders. He remains oblivious to the changes, still hunched over his sketchbook, his world narrowed down to the delicate shading and line work before him.

As you step behind Rafayel, you lean over his shoulder to peek at the sketchbook. Your eyes widen as you take in the breathtaking sight of your naked form captured in bold charcoal strokes. The portrait is incredibly lifelike, from the curve of your hip to the swell of your breast, every detail meticulously rendered. You can't help but feel a thrill of excitement and a hint of embarrassment at seeing yourself laid bare in this way. The portrait is intensely intimate, a testament to the connection and desire that exists between you and Rafayel. Your breasts press softly against his back, the warmth of your skin seeping through the thin silk of his shirt. The scent of your perfume fills his nostrils, a heady mix of your natural fragrance and the faint aroma of the robe. He sets down his pencil with a soft clink, finally done. With a satisfied nod, he closes the leather folder containing your portrait. As you reach out to take the sketchbook from his hands, your fingers brush against his, a spark of electricity passing between you at the contact. Rafayel's eyes meet yours as he passes you the artwork, his gaze intense and filled with a swirling mix of emotions.

You find yourself drawn in by the depth of his eyes, unable to resist any longer, you lean in, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a soft, tender kiss.

The moment your lips connect, it's as if a dam bursts open inside you. Rafayel's lips are soft and warm against yours, moving with a desperate hunger that mirrors your own. His hands come up to cup your face, long fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. Your own hands grip the leather folder tightly, the sketchbook a forgotten afterthought as you lose yourself in the sensation of Rafayel's lips on yours. His eyes never leave yours as he takes the sketchbook from your hands. He sets it down carefully on the small table nearby.

As Rafayel straightens up, his gaze remains locked with yours, the heat and intensity in his eyes growing with each passing second. Mustering up the courage, you reach up with trembling fingers and slowly untie the sash of your robe. The black silk slips from your fingers, falling open to reveal the creamy skin beneath. With deliberate slowness, you shrug the robe off your shoulders.

He just saw you naked, captured every curve. But seeing, and feeling, are two very different things. His hands twitch at his sides, aching to touch your body with his fingers and explore the textures he has only imagined until now. As the robe falls away, Rafayel's eyes drink in the sight of you, he takes a step closer to you, reaching out a tentative hand, fingers hovering just above the swell of your breast. The heat of his touch is palpable, though he has not yet made contact.

His breath catches in his throat as you take his hand and press it firmly against the soft, warm skin of your breast. Your skin is incredibly soft and pliant beneath his fingertips. "Touch me, Rafayel" you whisper. Your eyes blaze into his, a silent plea for him to explore, to claim, to take what he so desperately wants.

Rafayel's hand molds around the supple flesh, fingers sinking into the giving softness as he squeezes gently. His thumb finds your nipple, brushing over the sensitive peak and feeling it pebble beneath his touch, he swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he savors the feel of you beneath his palm. His other hand comes up to cup your face, tilting your chin up as he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss. His lips move over yours with a newfound sense of urgency, a desperate hunger that threatens to consume you both. He walks you backwards until your back hits the wall, the cool surface a shock against your heated skin. Breaking the kiss, Rafayel's lips trail down the column of your throat, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt on your skin. He nips and sucks at the tender flesh, marking you as his own as his hands map the curves of your body. You pull Rafayel towards the couch, your fingers entwined with his as you guide him to sit down. Straddling his lap, you drape your naked form over him, the heat of your bare skin seeping through his shirt.

His hands settle on your hips, gripping you firmly as he gazes up at you with a mix of awe and desire. His eyes roam over your naked breasts, taking in the tantalizing sight of them mere inches from his face. "Cutie" he breathes, his voice rough with desire. "You're...beautiful and I want to touch every inch of you" His hands slide up your sides, skimming over your ribs and over the soft swell of your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing the sensitive peaks until they strain towards his touch. He leans in, his lips trailing over the valley between your breasts. He presses open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you. As he kisses, he takes your nipple into his mouth, suckling gently as his hand kneads the pliant flesh. You gasp at the sensation, your fingers threading through Rafayel's hair as you hold him to your breast. The feeling of his mouth on your sensitive skin is exquisite, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your fingers find his belt, quickly unbuckling it with deft movements. He lifts his hips slightly, helping you tug his pants and underwear down over his muscular thighs, freeing his hard, aching cock. It springs up, long and thick and already leaking at the tip. Rafayel's breath catches as your fingers wrap around his shaft, stroking him slowly from base to tip. The skin is silky soft and hot to the touch, throbbing with a life of its own. His hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as you work your hand over his cock. He watches, enraptured, as you pump him slowly, his eyes darkening with lust.

"Miss bodyguard," he grits out, his voice strained with pleasure. "If...if you keep touching me like that...I won't last long." His hips twitch upwards, seeking more of your touch, more of your heat.

Slowly, torturously so, you begin to lower yourself onto his shaft. The head of his cock pushes against your entrance, the thick tip parting your folds as you sink down inch by inch. Rafayel's eyes flutter closed, a low groan escaping his lips as your tight heat envelops him. He is so big, stretching you in a way that is almost too much to bear. But you don't stop, don't relent, until you are fully seated on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. You can feel every throbbing inch of him pulsing deep within your core, filling and completing you in a way that makes your heart ache with a fierce, primal joy.

His eyes snap open, his gaze immediately drawn to the mesmerizing sight of your breasts bouncing gently as you begin to ride him. The delicate necklace you wear catches the light, the gem glinting brilliantly against your flushed skin with each roll of your hips. You can feel the heat of his gaze burning into you, the intensity of his desire a palpable force that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

The room fills with the sounds of skin against skin, the creaking of the couch beneath you, and the harsh pants and moans of your shared pleasure. Rafayel guides your movements, urging you to take more of him with each thrust.

"Beautiful, God, you're so fucking beautiful. The way you move, the way you feel...it's incredible." His hips surge upwards to meet your downward movements, driving his hard cock deeper into you. The pleasure is overwhelming, the feeling of your walls gripping him is almost too much to bear.

"You're perfect, the way you take me, the way your body accepts mine...it's like you were made for this, made for me."

Rafayel leans in, capturing one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth. He suckles hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as his hand kneads your other breast roughly. His other hand slides down to rub at your clit, his fingers circling the swollen nub and sending jolts of pleasure shooting through your veins. As he looks down, his eyes widen at the erotic sight of your pussy swallowing his cock whole, a milky ring of your arousal clinging to the base of his shaft with each thrust. The intimate image sends a surge of lust coursing through his veins, pushing him closer to the edge.

"Oh fuck, y/n!" he cries out, his voice echoing off the walls as he throws his head back in pleasure. "I...I'm almost cumming. Your pussy feels too fucking good, it's...ungh...it's incredible."

His hands move, fingers dig into the soft flesh just below your bouncing breasts as he grips your waist tightly. His hips surge upwards, driving into you with a newfound urgency as he feels his climax approaching rapidly. As your fingers find your clit and rub the sensitive nub hard and fast, Rafayel lets out a moan, his body tensing beneath you. The sight of you touching yourself, lost in your own pleasure, pushes him over the edge.

"Ah, fuck!!" he moans, his cock pulsing and throbbing inside you as he begins to cum. Thick ropes of hot seed erupt from his shaft, painting your inner walls white. The feeling of Rafayel's release, combined with your own frantic rubbing, sends you hurtling towards your own peak. Your body stiffens, back arching as a wave of ecstasy crashes over you. "Yes, Raf! Yes! I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" you scream, your voice joining with his in a symphony of shared bliss. Your pussy clenches around him rhythmically, milking his cock for every last drop as your climax consumes you both.

Rafayel looks up at you with a satisfied, almost lazy grin. His eyes are still clouded with bliss, but there's a mischievous glint in their depths that speaks to the depraved thoughts already swirling in his mind.

"Next time..," he murmurs, his voice low and rough from the intensity of his release. "Next time, I'm going to draw you just like this, your naked body splayed out before me, my cum dripping from your well fucked pussy. I want to capture the way your skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, the way your breasts heave with each ragged breath. And I'll make sure to emphasize every delicious detail , the way your thighs tremble from the force of your climax, the way your pussy lips are swollen and sensitive from the thorough fucking I've just given you. I want you to be able to feel the ghost of my touch on the paper, to trace the lines of the drawing with your fingers and remember the way I felt inside you"

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ KEEP IT ON, ANGEL…❞

— satosugu x fem! reader, shoko might be a little into you, pet names (princess, angel) bratty reader, slightly suggestive near the end, outfit is inspired by something like this

summary; you're all getting ready to go out, but both your boyfriends' clothes make a better outfit than your own

Shoko steadily eyes your silhouette behind the partition, watches as you eventually step out in your third outfit of the night. A pout is still etched onto your glossed lips, and she giggles at the exasperated stomp of your bare foot against the floor. Heaving out a sigh, you look over your figure in the nearby floor-to-ceiling mirror. This fit looks nice, cute even…but it's just not good enough. Your last handfuls of attire have all been missing something, a certain razzle-dazzle that left them lackluster and needing a little something more.

“Well?”, Shoko asks, though the answer is evident from your adorable frown and stiff pose. “This one a winner?”

You hum in response, throwing your hands on your hips and lolling your head to the side in a desperate attempt to make the outfit work. Maybe a different angle will make it look better is your logic. Alas, it has the same problem as your previous attempts.

You groan. “I don’t like it.”

“Looks cute, though.” You’re too busy drowning out the bickering from the bathroom and wondering where this outfit went wrong to notice how her eyes trace over your body.

What you do notice, however, is Suguru’s shirt laying idly on the bed.

It’s a neatly ironed black tee decorated with warm-coloured graphics on the front of some band Suguru liked to listen to. Shoko follows your gaze to the shirt, but remains quiet. She decides to see where you might go with this.

You glance towards the bathroom. In the mirror, you catch a sneak peak of Suguru’s irritated expression as he fails to tune out Satoru’s nonsensical rambling. Both are too busy sabotaging eachother to spot you prancing over to the bed where their clothes are laid out. Next to Suguru’s shirt is Gojo’s black, leather jacket, lustrous and extremely expensive. The gears are starting to turn in your head. Shoko, intrigued, watches you strip down at record speed. The faster you can get their clothes on, the easier it’ll be for you to keep them. You slide Suguru’s oversized shirt over your body, fabric still a little warm even though it's been a minute since he ironed it. The shirt hangs loosely around your waist; you’ll fix that in a second. Satoru’s jacket is cool and heavy on your skin, but it looks incredible with the shirt.

“Need a hand?” Your attention draws to the couch, where Shoko balances a few safety pins between her fingers.

It takes a couple minutes to pin the shirt how you like, and you both listen for the end of the boys' bickering to make sure they don't catch the two little partners in crime. In the end, the final result looks amazing. Geto's tee now fits you like a glove, and the thigh high stiletto boots really bring the whole thing together. All that’s left is a matching handbag and accessories, so off you disappear into the closet. You’re so engrossed in the hunt for that one name-brand handbag from Satoru, that the pair of heavy footsteps approaching you from behind fall on deaf ears.

“Hey.” Suguru says to you, appearing over your now frozen form kneeled on the carpet. “My shirt. Where is it?”

Satoru chimes in from his spot leant against the doorframe. “And hand over my jacket, would ya, princess?”

You cross your arms underneath your chest, plumping your tits up just enough to get them to stare, and jut your lips out in a pout as you glare up at them both. “But I’m wearing them.”

“...And who authorized that idea?”, Geto asks in that ever-so-tolerant tone of his.

“They looked abandoned to me," You quip back. “And the shirt’s wrinkled now, anyway." You turn your attention back to the shelf of handbags. "It needs re-ironing, so might as well just find somethin' else.”

Satoru interrupts before Suguru can argue any further. “Okay. And my jacket?”

“Mine now.” You reply in a sing-songy tease, topped off with the same shit-eating grin Satoru's always giving everyone else, and blink your lashes up at them. “Besides, I look great as fuck! You two aren’t gonna make me take it off now when I look so-," You tuck a hand under your chin and breathe out," ravishing, are you?”

Gojo chuckles and starts to fire back, “We’re gonna end up taking it off you later anyw-“

“Fine.” Suguru quickly cuts him off. “Fine. Keep it on, angel.”

Even a deaf person could hear the absolutely treacherous tone laced beneath the pet name. But if there’s one thing you and Satoru are good at, it is waning a poor Suguru Geto’s patience.

“Thank you, Suguru, so kind, so generous.” You purr his name and give Geto those puppy dog eyes that make him wanna choke you on his fingers. And you’re sure he will, later when Shoko has long gone home.

“Hmph.” Gojo pouts over Geto’s shoulder. “No wonder she’s so spoiled when you give her everything she wants.”

And just like that, you’re coming for Gojo as well, pouting and whining at him, “You gonna take your jacket back from me, Satoru?”

Geto turns to look at him and, underneath two pairs of eyes, suddenly the great Satoru Gojo finds the closet wall extremely interesting. He really wanted to wear that jacket out to the festival tonight, but when you whine his name like that…

His thoughts are interrupted as Suguru gives a huff and shrugs out of his grasp, turning to exit the closet. “No wonder she’s so spoiled.”

“Shut up, Suguru.” You can hear Geto and Shoko laughing at him in the next room. And, now that their attention has moved elsewhere, you can focus on finding that pesky, elusive handbag.

[virginsexgod69]

would die for a dom Daryl who’s absolutely weak for fem reader but displays that in the way that he craves hearing her beg for him, is obsessed with drawing things out and making her cum and LOVES cockwarming omg. Established but new relationship would be so cute!!! And since they’re still learning eachother’s bodies (and their own honestly because maybe neither of them have rly let their guards down in sex with others before?) Daryl makes the reader squirt for the first time and is absolutely amazed 🤭

(Wanna thank in advance because I feel like squirting is not represented very often in fics and it’s so nice to read it, as a human who experiences it myself!) <3 :-)

❝ Oasis ❞

pairing Daryl Dixon x f!Reader

cw smut, cockwarming, unprotected p in v, squirting, pussy eating

889 words

not proofread yet

 You rested against Daryl’s chest as he took another drag from his cigarette. You lazily watched the way his pretty pink lips wrapped around the cigarette, wishing they were on your clit instead. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before going back to his cigarette. You were growing impatient. He’s had his large cock stuffed inside you for what felt like forever, yet he insisted on making you wait until he was through with his cigarette. You looked up at him pleadingly, but he didn’t give in. 

“C’mon, Daryl, please?” You begged, squirming in his lap. His rough hands placed a firm grip on your hips, keeping you still. 

“If you keep wigglin’ aroun’, ‘m not gonna let you cum,” he warned as he put out the finished cigarette. You sat up straight, looking him in his dazzling blue eyes. He put his hand behind your neck and pulled you down for a kiss, tasting your mouth with his tongue. You pulled away when the need for oxygen took over. 

“I’ve been real patient this whole time.” You batted your eyelashes at him with faux innocence. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling gently. You’ve come to find out that he loved it when you did that. A gentle grunt slipped from his lips. “Fine,” he said, finally giving in. Holding your hips, he guided you up and down on cock, thrusting his own hips up meeting you halfway. He pulled you into another kiss before sucking marks onto your neck and chest. You gripped onto Daryl’s shoulders for support, digging your nails into him though the fabric of his button-up shirt. The thick vein on the underside of his shaft rubbing against your velvety walls brought you close to the edge. The bowman pulled your tank top down, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the garage. 

“So pretty,” he commented before taking one into his mouth. You tangled your fingers in his hair as your rhythm became sloppy. His dick was rubbing against that one spot that drove you mad. It felt so good, yet so strange, like you needed to pee and cum at the same time. But you didn’t dwell on it as you continued to ride your boyfriend. 

“‘M gonna-”

“Go ‘head, baby. Cum fer me,” he encouraged, rubbing your clit for extra stimulation. Daryl held onto you as you threw your head back in ecstasy. The coil in your gut burst, sending a white hot orgasm flooding through you. But this felt better than your typical orgasms. A rush of liquid flowed out of you as you came. You and Daryl looked at each other with wide eyes. 

“Did ya jus…” He looked down at his soaked lap with a flushed face. He prided himself in making you feel so good that you squirted. 

“Oh my god, Daryl,” you said between pants. “I didn’t know I could do that.” His warm hand supped your face gently. 

“Needa taste ya.” His eyes were so full of lust you could barely tell they were blue. Before you could reply, he picked you up off his cock and placed you on his work table, spreading you out. His flattened tongue lapped up your juices from your slit like a dehydrated man finding an oasis. Still sensitive, you let out gentle whimpers, everything felt even more heightened. He inserted his tongue into your tired, soaked hold. His hand groped your thighs as he ate you out, his tongue hitting you in that same spot that made you see stars. 

“Yeah, right there, keep doin’ that!” You begged Daryl. 

 His fingers found your clit and began rubbing rapid circles on the swollen nub. Your back arched off the table as your hips chased his mouth and thighs clamped around your head. His tongue continued licking around your smooth walls, eliciting wanton moans from you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing him deeper between your thighs. His own hand found his achingly hard member, stroking it as he brought you to your second orgasm. The same feeling overtook you as that coil burst once again. Feeling your juices squirt onto his tongue brought him to his own orgasm as he drank them up. Reluctantly, Daryl pulled away from your abused cunt. He licked the remaining liquid off the inside of your thighs before helping you off the table. 

“You taste so good, Sunshine,” he praised as he cleaned you up with his red rag. You pressed a kiss to his cheek as a way to thank him for making you feel so good. 

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[milfsloverblog]

Love Lies Bleeding (part1)

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

In this house, love is not a refuge—it is a curse.

A/N : here it is, the first chapter of my Jane Murdstone gothic lit inspired fic. This is my precious baby, be nice and show it some love if you wish <3

The journey to the Murdstone estate was long, the carriage rocking gently as it carried you and your new husband through the mist-laden countryside. The landscape blurred past in muted greens and browns, the late afternoon light fading into a dusky grey. Edward sat beside you, his gloved hand resting atop yours, his grip firm—possessive, even. He had always been like that, a man who desired control over what was his. And now, you were his.

Your courtship had been brief, but dazzling. Edward had swept you off your feet with poetic letters, whispered promises, and evenings spent in candlelit drawing rooms where he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. He had spoken of his estate, his family name, and the legacy you would help him preserve. It had all felt like something out of a novel, and you—eager for adventure, for romance—had allowed yourself to be carried along in his current.

"We're nearly there, darling," he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. "I do hope you’ll love the estate as much as I do. My sister has been eagerly awaiting your arrival."

The thought of meeting Jane Murdstone had filled you with nervous anticipation ever since Edward first spoke of her. He had painted her as fiercely loyal, devoted to family above all else. But there had been an unspoken weight to his words, a careful selection of phrases that left you wondering what lay beneath. He spoke of her as one might speak of a guardian, a protector of something sacred—his past, his home, perhaps even himself.

As the carriage rumbled through the wrought-iron gates, the mansion came into view—a towering structure of dark stone, its windows like watchful eyes in the fog. It loomed over the land with an air of quiet menace, its gothic spires clawing at the grey sky.

A lone figure stood at the entrance, her posture rigid, her hands clasped before her. Jane Murdstone.

The carriage came to a halt, and before you could step down, Edward was there, offering his hand to help you. As your boots touched the damp earth, you lifted your gaze to Jane’s.

Her eyes, cold and assessing, flicked over you with the precision of a scalpel. Her lips pressed into a thin line, unreadable. She was tall, taller than most women, her dark dress severe against the pale of her skin. A single silver pin held her hair in place, not a strand out of order.

“Jane,” Edward greeted, his voice warm in a way that felt almost… measured. “At last, my wife is home.”

Jane’s gaze flicked to Edward’s before settling back on you. Slowly, she descended the steps, her footsteps near soundless. When she reached you, she extended a hand, gloved in soft black leather.

“Mrs. Murdstone,” she said, voice cool as winter air.

“Please, call me by my name,” you offered, hoping to bridge the formality between you.

A pause. Then, with an almost imperceptible tilt of her head, she murmured, “Very well.”

She held your hand a second too long. Her fingers, though gloved, tightened ever so slightly before releasing you. A flicker of something unreadable passed through her gaze, gone before you could grasp it.

Edward smiled. “Shall we go inside? It’s dreadfully cold out here.”

Jane stepped aside, gesturing toward the heavy oak doors. “Welcome to your new home.”

As you crossed the threshold, the air shifted—cooler, heavier. The scent of aged wood and something faintly floral clung to the air, though it was neither inviting nor comforting. Shadows clung to the high archways, flickering in the dim candlelight.

Behind you, Jane shut the doors, the sound echoing through the grand hall. When you turned, you found her watching you—not with the warmth of a sister-in-law, but with something else entirely.

Possession.

Edward's hand found your waist, pulling you closer to his side, and for a brief moment, Jane’s lips twitched—as if she found the gesture amusing, or perhaps, unnecessary.

✢✦✢

Edward insisted on giving you a tour of the estate himself, leading you through long corridors adorned with heavy tapestries and paintings of Murdstone ancestors whose dark eyes seemed to follow you as you passed.

“The house has been in our family for generations,” Edward said proudly, his hand resting against the polished bannister as you descended a grand staircase. “Every stone, every beam, has a history.”

At his side, Jane walked in silence, her gaze fixed forward, offering no further insights into the home she had spent her life in.

He led you through a series of cavernous rooms—a vast drawing room lined with bookcases, a conservatory with glass panes fogged from the cold, a dimly lit dining hall where a long mahogany table stretched beneath a chandelier that had long lost its brilliance. You tried to imagine these rooms filled with warmth, with life, but they felt more like relics of a past long since buried.

When you reached the end of one corridor, Edward gestured toward a heavy wooden door. “My study,” he said. “You’re welcome to enter anytime, of course.”

Jane’s lips parted slightly, as if she might object, but she said nothing.

“And Jane’s quarters are just down that hall,” Edward continued. “She prefers her privacy.”

Jane’s gaze flickered toward you, something sharp in her eyes, but she remained silent.

When Edward finally led you back to your chambers, he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “I hope you’ll grow to love it here,” he murmured.

Behind him, Jane watched, her expression unreadable.

✢✦✢

The first night at the Murdstone estate was suffocating.

The grand bedroom Edward had led you to was beautiful, if haunting—tall windows shrouded in heavy velvet curtains, dark mahogany furniture that loomed rather than stood, a fireplace large enough to swallow a person whole. The bed, a grand four-poster draped in silken sheets, felt cold despite its lavishness.

Edward had left you there with a soft kiss and murmured words about needing to speak with Jane. You had expected him to return, but hours passed, and the house remained eerily silent.

You had never felt more alone.

The following days blurred into one another, a routine forming—meals in the vast, dimly lit dining hall, brief moments of conversation with Edward, and even briefer, more stilted encounters with Jane. She was always watching, her gaze heavy, unreadable. There was something unnerving about her presence, something that made you hesitate before stepping into a room she occupied.

One afternoon, you found yourself alone in the drawing room, running your fingers absentmindedly along the spines of old books. The air smelled faintly of dust and lavender, a scent that clung to the very bones of the house. You selected a book at random, flipping through its yellowed pages when a voice cut through the silence.

“You have peculiar taste.”

You turned sharply. Jane stood near the doorway, watching you with an expression of mild amusement.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” you admitted, closing the book.

Jane stepped forward, her boots barely making a sound against the rug. “Few people do.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You weren’t sure if she was making a joke.

She reached for the book in your hands, her fingers brushing yours as she took it. “This one,” she murmured, inspecting the worn cover. “A tale of betrayal and misplaced trust.”

You swallowed. “Have you read it?”

Jane tilted her head slightly. “I’ve read many things.” She returned the book to the shelf with a deliberate slowness. “Tell me, do you believe a person can truly know another?”

The question caught you off guard. “I suppose… in time, yes.”

Jane hummed, the sound low and contemplative. “Time reveals much. And yet, some things remain hidden, even in plain sight.”

Her gaze lingered, sharp and unreadable, before she turned and strode toward the door. As she passed you, she reached out—not quite touching, just barely grazing her fingers over your sleeve.

Then she was gone, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than before.

Edward, on the other hand, was attentive but distant. He spoke of business matters vaguely, often excusing himself after dinner to his study. When he was with you, he was warm, affectionate, but there was always a lingering tension, as if he were holding something back.

That evening, Edward found you in the drawing room, staring into the fireplace as the flames crackled softly. He sat beside you, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You seem troubled,” he murmured.

You exhaled a soft laugh. “I suppose I am still adjusting.”

Edward tilted his head, regarding you carefully. “Jane can be difficult. Do not let her unsettle you.”

His words were meant to reassure, but they only deepened the unease curling in your stomach. There was something wrong in this house. And you were beginning to fear you were in far deeper than you had realized.

✢✦✢༻♰༺✢✦✢ ✢✦✢༻♰༺✢✦✢ ✢✦✢༻♰༺

Taglist : @weemssapphic , @oddball216 , @im-a-carnivorous-plant , @dingdongthetail , @erablaise-blog , @rainbow-hedgehog , @renravens , @kaymariesworld , @witchesmortuary , @notmeellaannyy , @weemswife , @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 , @redkarine , @women-are-so-ethereal @opheliauniverse , @willisnotmental @raspburrythief , @fictionalized-lesbian , @lynn13blog g, @ness029 , @geekyarmorel , @h-doodles , @winterfireblond @nocteangelus15 , @aemilia19 , @vendocrap8008 , @jkregal @gela123 , @lilfartbox1 , @bellatrixsbrat , @dumbasslesbi

[gamesetattach]

That One Night

Jannik Sinner x Reader After being introduced at an event, reader and Jannik Sinner seek to resolve their immediate chemistry. They do, it's brief but magnificent. And they're both left wanting more... too bad that's unrealistic... they'd need a miracle for that to happen... Warnings include... steamy scenes, allusion to smut that might as well be smut, minor bike accident

The venue was dazzling, a shimmering blend of opulence and power, brimming with high-profile names from sports, entertainment, and beyond. You’d been to your share of high-stakes events working as a part of Lewis Hamilton's personal staff, but this gala—a celebration of global athletic excellence—was something else. Maybe it was the shift in Hamilton’s career, his dramatic switch to Ferrari drawing attention from every corner of the room. Being in the same space as some of the most impressive figures in the world was never something you could get used to.

You adjusted your drink in your hand, standing among your coworkers, who were animatedly chatting amidst the event’s grandeur. Lewis, ever the charismatic centerpiece of any gathering, stood nearby, surrounded by admirers and journalists. It was then that you noticed him—Jannik Sinner, the tennis prodigy who seemed to be everywhere these days. Tall, composed, and unmistakably confident, he approached Lewis with an easy grace.

“Congratulations on the move to Ferrari,” Jannik said, extending a hand. His tone was warm but earnest, with the kind of deference and understanding that only a fellow, high achieving athlete could channel.

“Hey, man. I'm a big fan of yours,” Lewis replied, during the swift clasp of their hands, his signature grin in place. “And yeah, thank you. It’s been an adjustment, you know how it is. New team, new dynamics.”

Jannik nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a big step, and very exciting. Ferrari’s history speaks for itself, but so does your own.”

“Thanks, mate, appreciate it” Lewis said, kind eyes twinkling, and then turned slightly to gesture toward your group. “By the way, these are some of the people who make my life run smoothly.”

Lewis introduced everyone by name, and when he got to you, Jannik’s gaze lingered just a fraction longer than it had with the others.

“Nice to meet you all,” he said, offering a polite smile to the team, though he was angled towards you as he did.

“Likewise,” you chimed in along with the other greetings of your group, eyes flicking up and down his tall stature with an obvious spark of interest. You smiled into your drink when you saw he noted your appraisal with a quiet smirk to himself.

---

The group conversation that followed was lively, filled with laughter and the kind of lighthearted banter that couldn't be faked. It wasn't uncommon for nights like this one to be filled with forced niceties and social obligation, but you found yourself surrounded by genuine company throughout the night for once. Jannik withstood the camaraderie of you and your team's established dynamic well, easily following the quick back and forth that bounced between your co-workers. Your own insertions in the conversation earned more than a few chuckles from his direction, and you found yourself meeting his eyes first at every instance of laughter. He wasn’t the loudest in the group by any means, but his subtle wit, dry humor, and ability to hold his own didn’t go unnoticed—especially not by you.

At one point, Jannik leaned slightly toward you after you’d made a particularly sharp and clever comment that had your co-workers open-mouthed with shock before they keeled over with laughter. “Do you always keep everyone on their toes, or are you just on a mission tonight?”

You grinned, meeting his gaze. “I mean, it depends on the company.”

His small smile widened just enough to feel like a win.

---

Hours later, as the event began to wind down, you and your team decided to head back to the hotel before the night got stale. It seemed everyone had the same idea.

The lobby was bustling with other guests from the gala, all waiting for the elevators in their shared hospitality. You stood near the back of the group, watching as people crammed into the small space. Jannik appeared beside you, his own team just slightly ahead.

“Looks like we’re not getting on this one,” he remarked as the doors closed, the elevator packed to it's maximum volume.

“Probably for the best,” you replied. “I’m not sure I have any social capacity left for that level of crowding.”

He chuckled, his relaxed demeanor infectious. “Guess we can only hope the next one is less full.”

Only a few others joined you in waiting for the second lift, and you and Jannik fell into easy, hushed conversation. The elevator dinged and opened, and you filed in first with Jannik's gentle hand on your lower back. He positioned himself next to you in the corner, allowing space for the others, his shoulders square to your own with your hip brushing at his leg. You stood in silence now, sharing the small space with guests before, one by one, they exited on the lower floors and left you and Jannik alone.

The silence persisted despite the clearing of others and grew to fill the air as something comfortable, but palpable. It felt hopeful, expectant—like maybe the tension that built naturally between you both through the night was about to be expended somehow. Like maybe something would amount from your hyper-aware orbit of each other that started within your short time of meeting.

You realized you were standing closer to him than necessary, still where you first positioned yourselves to accommodate the now-departed crowd. His arm brushed yours as the elevator ascended, and neither of you moved away, the small space between you unchallenged but charged.

When the elevator dinged once more, you glanced up, startled to see your floor already on the display.

“This is me,” you said, stepping away from the rail, and you saw this floor was the last one pressed on the array of numbers, "Oh, are you on this level, too?"

He shook his head, his gaze heavy-lidded and steady on you. "Must've missed mine."

He didn’t move to press his floor, and the doors began to close again.

You hesitated as you stepped through them, then looked back at him. “Why don't you come back to my room instead.”

The invitation hung in the air, sounding bolder in the silence than you intended, but you held off on regret as you waited for a response. Jannik’s eyes searched yours, something stirring beneath his usual, cool reserve.

“Lead the way,” he said.

---

The walk to your room was quiet, the tension building with every step. When you finally opened the door and stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The casual banter of earlier was gone, replaced by an unspoken understanding that neither of you felt the need to question.

“Nice place,” he said as he entered your hotel room, voice low, but he had barely glanced around. His eyes stayed trailing after your every movement.

“Thanks,” you replied, closing the door behind you. “Picked the decor out myself and everything.”

You turned to face him, his expression unreadable but his eyes giving him away. Slowly, he stepped closer, the gap between you shrinking until there was almostnone left at all.

And then it happened.

There was no formality, no careful consideration—just heat, just urgency. His lips were on yours, and it wasn’t soft or timid, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. It was hungry, a breaking point neither of you had time to speak into existence but one that you both had felt coming all along.

His hands found your waist, fingers curling into fabric as if anchoring himself. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, pressing closer, the moment swallowing you whole. The air buzzed between you, your heart hammering against your ribs, every touch igniting something more.

Somewhere in the haze, he pulled off his blazer and you tugged at his shirt, needing him closer, needing something solid to hold onto as your back hit the door. His breath was ragged when he finally pulled away, but only for a moment before his lips found the curve of your jaw, then lower, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to your skin.

He exhaled against you, voice hushed, breath uneven. You felt the sharp edges of restraint still present, the weight of something unspoken.

Then, your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly, and any hesitation that remained between you unraveled completely.

His hands, warm and steady, moved over your back, pulling you off the door and fully against him, as if closing the last bit of space that existed between you. His mouth found yours again, slower this time, and deeper, as if savoring the impermanence of it all.

When he finally pulled away again, his forehead pressed to yours as you both caught your breath. There were no whispered questions, no reassurances about what this meant.

Because it didn’t have to mean anything, and it didn't—at least, not yet.

So, your hand found his, fingers lacing together in a silent understanding.

And when you moved, guiding him to the bed, he followed without a second thought.

Faintly you heard the late night gusts and the rush of cars, a window left open, air cool and crisp, but the heat between you was unmistakable. The time stilled, no urgency or expectation left, only the slow unraveling of barriers that had been introduced already half-torn down. His hands moved over you with intent, like he was memorizing the feeling of you, the weight, the warmth, the way you shivered at the smallest touch.

You found yourself laughing softly against his lips at one point, the absurdity of it all—this place, this timing, such need after only one introduction. Jannik smiled too, a sweet one, and he moved his face from yours to nudge into your neck.

And then, just as quickly, the laughter faded, overtaken by something heavier, deeper. You pulled him back up to you, fingers dragging over bare skin, every inch of space between you erased until nothing else existed but this.

No past, no future.

Just here. Just now.

---

You didn’t sleep much. Not that night.

Every time your breathing leveled, every time the air settled between you, Jannik would shift closer again, fingertips tracing slow, aimless patterns along your skin, reigniting the heat that neither of you could seem to temper.

The sheets were tangled between your legs, the warmth of his body wrapping around you, the weight of his hand pressing against the small of your back, grounding you. His lips found the space beneath your jaw, lingering for a moment before trailing downward once more, his breath a quiet whisper against your skin.

His touch was exploratory, desperate, as if learning something new that he only had limited time to perfect. The slow drag of his fingers, the way he murmured your name against your collarbone, sent shivers up your spine.

What started so quick had become slow and unhurried as the night went on—a mutual unraveling, an indulgence in something spontaneous and momentary. Each kiss, each sigh, each press of fingers and hands and lips savoring all that was fleeting.

He wasn’t in a rush. Neither were you.

One night could be enough.

---

When you awoke late into the next morning, the sun streaming through the curtains, Jannik was already up and in his suit from the night before, sitting on the edge of the bed as he laced up his shoes. He glanced back when he noticed you stirring.

“Morning,” he said, his tone soft but steady.

“Morning,” you replied, your voice still heavy with sleep.

There was a beat of silence before he added, “Last night was… unexpected.”

You sat up, pulling the sheets around you. “But, was it really though?”

He smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “No, maybe not.”

As he stood, you watched him hesitate, his hand resting on the back of a chair. “You mentioned last night that you’re only here for the event. How long are you in the area?”

“Not long at all,” you admitted. “This was just a short work trip. I’m based in London, so I’ll be heading back after today.”

He nodded, absorbing the information. “London… that’s not too far.”

You smiled faintly, flattered at his effort to pretend and humor this. “I guess. Not if you’re motivated.”

His lips curved into a subtle grin. You both knew what this was, this was goodbye. “See you around, maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe,” you replied, trying to keep your heart from fluttering and latching onto the few, unlikely possibilities packed into that single word.

He held your gaze for a moment longer before turning toward the door, he called your name out once more. “Take care.”

“You too, Jannik,” you said softly as he walked out, leaving behind a room that suddenly felt much quieter—and a connection you couldn’t quite shake.

---

The Italian countryside was like something out of a painting, with rolling hills, ancient stone buildings, and skies so blue they almost seemed unreal. You’d been traveling from town to town for weeks now, helping Lewis Hamilton’s team gather material for his upcoming launch into first season with Ferrari. As his creative director, your role was to define the visual identity of this new chapter in Lewis’s career—a challenge you decided to cover by making a series inspired by the unique range of beauty offered by the Italian landscapes. And so, you'd immersed yourself amongst the Italian people up and down the country.

Today’s destination was a small, picturesque town tucked away in the Dolomites and bordered by Austria. You hadn’t thought much more of it as you packed your camera and sketchbook that morning, already suspended in awe by the setting during your arrival the night before, but as you wandered its sloped streets, you began to notice something: Jannik's face was absolutely everywhere.

It wasn’t unusual to see Italy's favorite tennis player and the World No. 1 featured in promotional materials across the country, but this was different. There were even posters of him at the local cafés, a mural depicting his likeness near the town square, and framed photos of his visits at every place you checked out for lunch. The ghost of him and that one night was already haunting you throughout Italy, but now it especially felt like the universe was conspiring against you.

You sighed into your espresso, thinking back to your brief but memorable encounter with him months ago. You often needed to remind yourself that it was just a one-time thing, a spontaneous meeting that would never align again. But apparently, Italy—and your own mind—wanted to encourage delusion.

Curious, you asked the barista about the abundance of Jannik’s imagery.

“Oh, he’s from here,” she said in accented English, beaming with pride. “Jannik is our treasure.”

Your stomach flipped. Of course, he was from here. You’d managed to land yourself in his birthplace without even realizing it. It was probably only a matter of time, but, even in all the time you spent trying and failing not to think of him, you hadn't really considered that you'd end up in his hometown sometime during your extensive travels of his country. Figuring he was off on tour or training somewhere far away, you tried to push the thought aside and focus on your work. You'd long since persuaded yourself to accept that you were unlikely to see him again. Still, as you moved through the scenic countryside that afternoon, your mind kept drifting to the idea of what it would be like to be in a place like this with him. The daydream felt too perfect, too impossible to entertain for long.

You don't actually know him, you reminded yourself.

---

Later that day, while riding your bike down a quiet rural road, you were so taken by the stunning view that you didn’t notice the dip ahead. Your front wheel went in and caught, sending you flying forward. You landed awkwardly, your camera bag cushioning some of the impact but your ankle was angled and throbbing.

“Oh, are you okay?” a voice called out in accented English.

You looked up to see a middle-aged woman rushing toward you from her car, concern etched on her face. She helped you sit up, clicking her tongue as she inspected foot.

“That hole gets everyone,” she said with a shake of her head. “You’re not the first.”

You couldn’t help but laugh despite the sting as you shifted. “Good to know I’m not alone.”

“My name is Siglinde,” she said, smiling warmly. “You?”

You replied with your name, wincing as she helped you up to your feet. “Thanks for stopping to help.”

Through a mix of your patchy Italian and German, and her limited English, you managed to explain that you were in town for work and researching the area as you walked your bike back to town beside her. Even before your mention of Italy's revered Ferrari, Siglinde had lit up about your project, insisting that she knew the best places to see.

“I live here my whole life,” she said proudly. “I show you the real town.”

---

Over the next few days, you and Siglinde struck up an unlikely, but fast friendship. She took you to local spots that weren’t in any guidebooks—a secluded meadow, a historic church, a family-run lodge. She spoke often of her family, particularly her children, whom she described as hardworking and kind.

“You would like him,” she said one afternoon after telling another story about her youngest son, as you walked through the market together. “You both work so hard. And you are very pretty.”

You smiled and humored her, brushing off the compliment. It was one of many not so subtle hints letting on that she thought you'd be good for her son. “I’m sure he’s great.”

“He is,” she insisted. “Handsome too! And such a good boy. Too busy for girlfriends, though. But maybe you can change that?”

“Siglinde!” you said, laughing at her persistance.

She grinned. “Just saying! You are a good match.”

Another time, as you hiked through the countryside with her, she pointed out landmarks and told stories about her family. “The boys loves this area,” she said wistfully. “My youngest, he is away so much, but when he comes home, he loves to be where not much has changed. He misses it here, you know.” She glanced at you, her eyes twinkling. “I think you would understand him. He needs someone who understands.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you just smiled and let her words hang in the air.

---

After about a week in town, Siglinde invited you to dinner at her home one evening. She insisted it would be a proper South Tyrolean meal, made by her husband, Johann, a long-time chef. You couldn’t say no to her, especially not to such an enticing offer.

When you arrived, Siglinde greeted you at the door, her face alight with excitement. “Come, come! Johann is still in kitchen. But my son, he is home! You will meet him.”

You smiled politely, stepping inside and handing her flowers you got from the market before she led you through the cozy house. She disappeared into the kitchen to find a vase, leaving you to admire the family photos lining the walls.

You did a double take at a small framed photo of a little boy obscured in snow, and you stepped forward to inspect closer. Smile wide and trophy lifted high, your heart rate picked up as you took in the pictured boy's toothy smile and the flash of long, orange hair peaking out of his helmet.

---

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Siglinde was speaking in rushed German to Jannik as she filled a vase. “The girl I invited tonight,” she began, her tone conspiratorial. “She is so nice! Hardworking, smart, and very pretty. Perfect for you.”

Jannik, used to his mother’s matchmaking, rolled his eyes with a smile. “Mama, you said on the phone already. Many times.”

“You must see,” Siglinde insisted. “You will see. She is special.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he replied lightheartedly. “At least your English will improve with someone to practice with around.”

---

Before long, Siglinde reappeared to usher you into the dining room. She had found you at the height of your disbelief, mouth still agape at the picture of Jannik on your new, kind friend's mantle.

At least now you know what's coming, you thought to yourself as you sat down at the dinner table, barely registering the beautifully prepared food plated in front of you.

You felt him enter the room before you saw him.

Jannik appeared in the doorway beside you and immediately stilled, recognizing the tilt of your head and the curls of your hair from just the one night spent together.

“Ah, you meet!” his mother exclaimed as she moved past him carrying a steaming bowl of soup into the room, leaving him behind in his state of shock that was now slowly morphing into one pleasant surprise and amusement.

You had turned to face his direction at Siglinde's entrance, and your eyes immediately found his. You couldn't help the slow smile that grew on your face in time with his.

He said your name softly, voice warm, tone incredulous. You took in a sharp breath, you didn't think you'd ever hear your name from his mouth again.

“Jannik,” you greeted, struggling to find any words to follow.

“Ah, you already know each other?” Siglinde beamed, eyes darting between the two of you with a knowing look. “...Perfect! Dinner will be even better!”

---

The meal was a whirlwind of flavors and conversation, with Siglinde and Johann enthusiastically sharing stories and dishes. You and Jannik tried to act natural, normal, but your time together flashed behind your eyes each time you looked over at him. And you had trouble focusing on top of processing the serendipity of this unexpected reunion between the two of you.

Every so often, your eyes would meet across the table, and you’d both look away, trying to suppress smiles. You knew what he was thinking, and you were sure he knew you were thinking the same.

After dinner, Siglinde all but pushed the two of you toward the door. “Take a walk! Show her the stars, Jannik. It is a beautiful night.”

“Mama, I—”

“Go!” she insisted, shooing you both outside.

The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the house. You walked in silence for a while, your first time alone in the night. Your first time alone in months, though the last time was the first time as well, you supposed.

Jannik let out a soft laugh, and broke you out of your thoughts.

“I can’t believe this,” he said, shaking his head. “Of all the places, of all the people my mother adopts…”

“I know,” you said, smiling. “She's amazing, by the way. She helped me after I was thrown off my bike.”

He raised an eyebrow, chuckling a little. “You were thrown off your bike?”

“It’s not funny,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “There was this ditch and—Apparently, it gets everyone, okay?”

He laughed again, his gaze soft on you. “I’m glad she found you. And I’m glad we… ran into each other again.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him. “Me too.”

For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Then, with a smile that made your heart stutter, Jannik asked, “What are your plans tomorrow?"

“Just spending more time around here,” you said.

“Good,” he replied. "Then maybe I can show you around... because I’d like to get to know you properly."

"I mean, you were pretty thorough the last time we met." You said, and he smirked at that and looked down at his feet. You continued, voice a little softer, "But yeah, I'd like that."

He smiled, nodding a little to himself, and as you continued down the moonlit path in the mountains, you let your pinkies brush against each other. Because you both knew, that one night was always meant to be the first of many.

---

And sometimes a one-night stand sticks with you and you have to like fucking exorcise it out and that's my truth. But not reader's, fortunately. Okay, steamiest one yet, hope you like xx

[the-s1lly-corner]

HIIIII I really liked how you did the Toons x human!single parent! reader!! If it's okay with you, can I request some more with Glisten, Flutter, and Razzle and Dazzle?

Various toons x single parent!regular visitor!reader²

Trying to do my best to space out dandys posts so other reqs for other fandoms can shine through hopefully WOO

Characters: glisten, Flutter, Razzle and Dazzle

Notes: human gn reader, pre game, short and sweet, forbidden crushes on you, no specifics on the kid, rnd have separate parts since there arent many toons in this post, written on mobile

CWs: none

GLISTEN

So so so many make overs for your kid- and for you of course if you want your face done.. though he's gonna say you look perfect as is!

Flattered that he's your kids favorite.. and he's never going to turn you two away no matter how many times you visit gardenview!

Ignore the moment of spluttering when you compliment him on his makeup for the day... of course he knows he looks amazing...! But.. thanks for the reminder

FLUTTER

Her little neck fluff ruffles when she sees you and your child enter again for another visit! Hanging out with her is always a nice thing

Even if she doesn't talk she forms a bond with your child- she has more than her fair share of drawings from them hung up in her room

Though sometimes a hang out with Flutter is accompanied by another toon, to help her write what she wants to say... armless and non verbal can create a challenge but you both make it work! You can't understand her with ease like the toons can

RAZZLE

A total chatter box, sometimes he carries the conversation between you him and dazzle

Always keeps your child's favorite films on hand and plays them when you come to gardenview to visit! It kind of goes to his head if he and his brother are the stars of said film...

You're going to get so many behind the scenes facts and bits... you're never going to hear the end of it.. but it's nice and see him so passionate about something

DAZZLE

He's a lot shyer than his brother so naturally razzle does a lot of the talking between you three... but that doesn't mean he's not going to pipe up with his own input and topics

He's meshes better with your kid if your kid is also shy or soft spoken... it's not that razzle is too much... bht sometimes it's nice to be nice and casual

Dazzle has a tendency to hide in his scarf when you address him directly... it's a little odd.. but endearing..! He hasn't shyed away from you like that since you first met... wonder what that's all about..

[myerssimp21]

Knife's Canvas (Pt. 1)

Yandere Poly!Ghostface x Reader

warnings: mention of torture (not reader), planned stalking.

prompt inspired by @jadedstarlight03 's prompt to @creepyyanderegirl on yandere stu with artistic reader. I liked it and took my own spin with it since I simp for Billy too.

"I admired your sketch!"

The cursive note, adorned with a smiley face, stared back at you, earning an A+ grade on your inaugural in-class creative writing assignment at Woodsboro High. As a newcomer, you had hoped your depictions of characters like Garfield and Scooby Doo would endear you to the teachers, and it appeared they did. Sketched in red pen and colored with pastel pink highlighter, your drawings grinned up at you, surrounded by tiny glitter hearts.

"Oh, those are wicked!"

The cute blonde girl seated behind you leaned over your shoulder, her minty breath fanning into your face as she praised, "Do you draw a lot? Did you do those in class? It's pretty fast if you did."

"Yeah! I started doing art last year, but you get better and faster with practice," you replied with a warm smile, eager to make your first friend. "I think these took about 3-4 minutes each."

Your face warmed as she leaned closer, her chest lightly pressing against your back as she inspected your paper. She pointed to the little hearts, "Those are so cute!" Her approving face turned toward you as she introduced herself, "I'm Tatum."

"I'm ____," you replied, pleased to make introductions effortlessly. The teacher's allowance for 5 minutes of free time before class's end was a welcome opportunity for socializing.

"You should join my friends and me after our next class for lunch; maybe some of us will be in your classes!"

"That would be so nice," you said, relief evident in your voice. "I'm honestly pretty shy, so making friends can be intimidating."

Her dazzling smile accompanied her words, "Perfect! If you have Chemistry next with Mr. Scott, I'll show you where it is if you don't already know."

"Um," you leaned down to your backpack, sifting through your new student documents to find your schedule. "Oh, it's actually history with Ms. Johnson."

"Hmm," Tatum leaned back, crossing her legs as she thought. "I think Billy has that class. Maybe if you leave a little early, you can catch him. He's the guy with the, uh," she seemed to struggle for words, "grunge hairstyle? I think he's wearing a dark red t-shirt today if that helps. He's a little grumpy sometimes, though, so if you're too nervous or he's mean, we'll look for you at lunch."

The bell rang, and students not already congregating by the door got up to leave. You neatly tucked your graded paper into its designated folder and stood, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as Tatum rose in tandem.

"I'll try!" you said with a giggle, even though meeting Billy made you nervous. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too," Tatum said, pulling a pack of gum from her bag and offering you a piece before you left. "I think your next class should be in that building, right? I’m not sure if you had it yesterday or if it’s a Tuesday-Thursday class."

Thanking her again, you made sure your Discman had the CD you liked the most before connecting your headphones and heading off in that direction. You'd only have a few minutes of music, but it was worth it!

After finding your next class, you lingered around the door since you were early, hoping to at least place who Billy was from Tatum's description. After a moment of trying to not look awkward as you stood around, you spotted him.

He did have a grungier hair style, reminding you of a movie star you'd seen on TV recently. It threatened to fall in his eyes as he stalked towards the door, a bored look on his face. Now that you noticed him more, it was hard to ignore that he had a pretty face. Trying to not overthink it now that you realized you thought he was kind of cute, you pulled your headphones down from your ears until they hung around your neck as he came closer to the class.

When he noticed you looking at him as he drew closer, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, the scowl on his face deepening and making you feel even more nervous.

"Hi," you said somewhat sheepishly, "I'm ___. I'm new and met Tatum in my last class. You must be Billy."

His eyebrow raises and his eyes soften, but the scowl remains, “Oh?”

“Yeah…” you trail off a little, unsure of what to say since his response was sort of dry, “I’m from the more southern part of the state and we moved up here for my dad’s new job. I hear you guys experience the seasons up here so I’m excited to see them! The leaves never change in the fall where I’m from.”

His dark brown eyes have been boring into yours as you speak, making your face feel warm for the second time today. They dart down to the folder in your hands and he smirks as he says, “That’s cool.”

For your history folder, you’d tried to paint torsos and busts like the ancient historic statues from Greece and Rome you’d seen in a National Geographic magazine on the cover. They were naked torsos, but you had tried to make the nipples on the women look less prominent to avoid getting into trouble. If you had any sense, you’d have depicted something else to entirely avoid the possibility of getting into trouble, but you’d gotten irritated at the idea of censoring art.

“Oh, thank you! I hope I don’t get shit for the nudity, but I guess I could probably give them all clothes if I need to.”

He nods towards the classroom and you notice the hallways are getting quieter, “We should head in. There’s a couple empty seats near me.”

Ms. Johnson's strategy to get the kids interested in history was to start with the brutality of the medieval age, it seemed; with diagrams of the torture methods they created being the highlight of her second class after syllabus day.

The history class, guided by Ms. Johnson's unwavering enthusiasm, delved into the unsettling corners of medieval history. As the lesson progressed, she took a moment to present an image of a haunting artifact, projecting it onto the screen for the entire class to see.

"Now, can anyone tell me what this is?" Ms. Johnson asked, gesturing to the screen. It was a grotesque device, an iron contraption with a cold, heartless design. Sharp spikes protruded inward, forming a cage around the wearer's head. The unsettling silence lingered as the class peered at the image, growing discomfort palpable.

To everyone's surprise, ____ confidently raised her hand, her eyes betraying an unexpected depth of knowledge.

"It's called the Scold's Bridle," she answered, her voice steady. "An oppressive device designed to silence women who dared to speak their minds. The spikes prevented any speaking, ensuring their voices remained stifled."

Billy arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "How do you know about that?"

____ shrugged, a nonchalant smile playing on her lips. "I read a lot. History isn't just about dates and battles; it's about the struggles people faced, especially women, and respecting the challenges they went through."

Billy's skepticism softened as he nodded slightly. "Guess history is more twisted than we think."

____ leaned towards him slightly, a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes and made his spine tingle slightly, "Oh, you have no idea."

"Ah, ____," Ms. Johnson said with genuine admiration and ____'s attention snapped back to her, "Impressive knowledge there. I'm eager to see your thoughts on this in more detail, perhaps in an essay. It's always refreshing when students connect with the material on a deeper level."

"Now, let's delve further into the complexities of medieval society. How these devices were not only instruments of physical torment but also symbolic of the societal norms of the time."

The lesson continued, and ____ slowly flipped through her sketchbook to find a fresh page, seemingly reviewing her previous art briefly as she did so. Billy faced the board, but his eyes were turned downward, toward ____'s hands. He caught a glimpse of previous drawings – a mix of cartoon characters and a few creepier depictions.

Angry faces splattered with red marks resembling blood and figures wearing intimidating masks (or just freaks with the scariest faces ever) caught his eye. Intrigued, he discreetly watched as she began absentmindedly sketching the torture devices described in class as she listened, switching out her pens to smear red ink on them. He caught his scoff before he uttered it when he realized she was drawing the devices in glitter pens, her eyes flickering from the images on the screen to back down at her paper.

He must have been too obvious, leaning in too closely or being too pointed with his staring now because she had flipped to a fresh page and locked eyes, an unreadable expression across her face. There was a pause before she tucked her sketchbook into her bag and turned her attention back towards the board.

Billy felt a mischievous idea forming in his head as he let his eyes linger on her, knowing she could probably see him staring in her peripheral. If she wasn't thrilled about him seeing her portfolio, perhaps there was more hiding in that sketchbook than just cutesy cartoons. It could be amusing for him and Stu to explore her place once they found out where she lived, hunting for more art she wasn't ready to showcase while they scoped out their new potential victim. If the glimpses of what he saw when she had flipped through it implied there was anything more beneath her vanilla exterior, Billy was confident that he and Stu could uncover it.

As the bell rang, she turned to him with what he'd call friendly eyes, the strange demeanor now gone, "Are you hungry or what? Is the cafeteria food at Woodsboro High edible or would I be better off hunting a bird?"

He huffed, "You'd be better off starving." Nodding towards the door, he started towards it, hardly waiting for ____ to collect her bag, "Maybe Randy will be enough of a simp to offer you whatever his mommy made for him."

Noticing the disdain Billy seemed to have for Randy's mother but feeling too tentative about the potential for conflict to ask more about it, ____ decided to leave it alone and hurry after him into the now bustling hallway.