#I actively try not to swear but I can't anymore

[rhysazriel]

Only Angel [Mafia!Azriel]

SUMMARY: Azriel's a dangerous Mafia leader, Y/N is his favourite dancer at his strip club. His usual Friday night dance turns into something a little more. (6.2k)

WARNINGS: mentions of the mafia and illegal activities, kissing, teasing, swearing, smut; dirty talk, sexual intercourse, spanking, fingering, lap dance.

A/N: This is a rewrite of a very old fic from an old fandom I was in. I’ve edited it the best I can to fit around Azriel’s character, so I apologise in advance if anything appears out of place :) 

Azriel owns a lot of businesses. From stores to hotels, to apartments to clubs. To many, he's a man of business, a man of money. To those aware of the world around them, he's a man of the mafia. Powerful and dangerous. Maybe that's what caught her eye all that time ago, the mysterious aura that bubbled around him.

Y/N's been a dancer at his club since it opened three years ago. It started as a joke between her friends. She was fresh in college and desperately needed a part-time job to pay her bills after she was laid off from the bakery she'd been working at. Callie had mentioned a new strip joint opening on the outskirts of Prythian, that it was a more underground, elite sort of club.

Y/N had laughed it off, joking that she'd look into it and then didn't think of it anymore. But after two weeks of job hunting and no luck, she found herself bumping into a group of young women in a restroom at a bar, and somehow snagged herself an interview at said club.

Eria Vanserra, manager of the club, had hired her the second she opened her mouth and her pretty little voice spoke her name. Y/N was attractive, there was absolutely no doubt in that. She had that look of pure innocence in her eyes, but her lips were wicked. 

The girls had trained her up, taught her the basics on the pole. She's grown close to them, thinks of them as her sisters more than colleagues. They're a team, have each other's backs when new customers try to take advantage and hype each other up for when the regular 60-year-olds come in and request private sessions. 

Y/N -- or rather Angel -- only offers private sessions for one customer: The Boss. They met just over a year into her employment, and it was on their first greeting that Azriel took an instant liking to the devilish dancer, and she took the same approach with him. 

Y/N's been teased for it relentlessly; snickers made from a few of the girls that didn't like how much Azriel liked her, but she didn't care then, and she doesn't care now. Not when every other Friday night, he has her booked for an intimate performance in the back room -- the room that's only ever reserved by him. 

It's been a long week. Classes were cancelled due to some ongoing investigation with one of Y/N's professors, and so she's been able to pick up shifts every night at the club. Shadow's is an elite place, and Y/N knows it. It's a home for the best dancers and the richest of men that sneak off to get their fix. 

It's not a brothel -- at least, not primarily. And none of the girls is ever forced into anything they don't want to do. That's one of the first things Eris made very clear. 

You're here to dance. Private sessions are your own choice, and anything that goes on behind closed curtains is your decision. If you want to offer extra services, the club doesn't touch that money.

Y/N's never been one to stray from the pole. She knows her strengths, and she knows her weaknesses. She's strong, it's obvious, but even the strongest of dancers find it unsettling to be behind a closed curtain with a strange man that clearly can't get much outside of what his money can buy.

The thought unsettles her, but she's never let her own discomfort project on the other girls that spend hours in private rooms with a different man every twenty minutes. They're the real talent, she thinks. Inspiring and badass, and Y/N wishes she had that extra ounce of confidence that they do.

Or at least, she used to wish so. Before she met Azriel -- before he started watching her whenever he stopped by. For two years, she's the only dancer his honey eyes have watched, and something about that knowledge gives Y/N all the confidence she thinks she'll ever need.

Because she's the one that gets under the mafia leaders' skin. His eyes are always on Y/N. She's the one that occupies his mind and tightens his pants from her presence on the pole. It wasn't until almost five months ago that Azriel made a move to ask for a private dance. 

He's done it before, many times. He's had his dick sucked more than he can remember behind those red curtains, but never by a woman as captivating and as talented as her -- his Angel. 

Azriel still remembers the first time he laid eyes on her, upon that risen stage with soft lights offering a halo effect on her silhouette. He saw her hips first, her long legs as she wrapped them around the poll and jutted her ass out deliciously. Then he saw her face -- those angelic eyes and sinful lips, and he knew he was fucked.

He remembers pulling Eris to the side, eyes still on her as he asked who the fuck she was, and why someone so beautiful was working for him. Remembers the way Eris told him her stage name, how it had his cock springing to life in appreciation for the way she moved. 

It all seems like a lifetime ago when he thinks back to it. And while there have been plenty of Friday nights that he frequents the club, he's yet to take things outside of the red room. 

And it's not that he doesn't want to, because he does -- more than he wants a lot of things. But Azriel is a man of honour (even in his line of work), and he's never been one to pressure a woman into something he wants. 

But Angel isn't like any woman. Not to him. 

Azriel deems she's by far the most precious thing he's ever laid eyes on, and he has a need to hold and protect her and show her just how a woman like herself deserves to be treated. 

He could give her the world, and they both know it. 

Tonight is like every other late Friday evening. Y/N's dolled up to the nines as she reapplies her lipstick. She's been at the club since seven, and three dances later and a round of waitressing, it's nearing midnight. Y/N's ready to go to bed. 

She's ready to call it a night, to tell Eris she's heading out early after picking up so many shifts in the week. Not only because she's tired, but also, Azriel hasn't shown up yet, and he's never come this late before. 

Just as Y/N is adjusting her bra straps, she sees Mor’s head pop out through the corner of the door through the mirror. The blonde has a wide grin on her face, and she knows exactly what that suggests. 

"He's here."

Y/N rolls her eyes. "He's also late. My shift ends in ten minutes."

Mor pouts out her lips, shaking her head, and her breasts bounce slightly on her covered chest. "But he's asking for you. And stop pretending like it's such a burden. You love when he shows up, and he loves when you dance for him. We all know it. Quit acting like you don't secretly enjoy it." She bites back, stomping her foot to make her point and Y/N spins in her chair to look at her full on.

Mor raises her brows. "All the other girls would kill to dance for him, to have him ask for them. Myself included. Stop acting like a brat and put on a fucking show."

Y/N isn't given a chance to reply because Mor is sauntering out of the dressing room, and she's left alone to swiftly get ready. She pretends to ignore the rampaging butterflies in her stomach at the idea of seeing him again. 

She's never scared, could never be. Y/N knows Azriel would never hurt her. But, she's nervous. Azriel always gives Y/N his undivided attention when she's dancing for him, and it's intimidating and exciting all at once. His eyes are so dark and calculated, and he's always so damn respectful when she sits on his lap­ -- never wanting to make her uncomfortable. 

Sometimes, Y/N just wants him to take charge. Even knowing exactly what he's capable of, she wants him to take her. Ravish her. Have his way with her. She wants him to completely dominate her, and often, Y/N finds herself wondering what would happen if she riled him up enough to get him to that state. 

If she acted like a brat, would he throw her over his lap and spank her?

If she talked back, would he pull her hair or spit in her mouth?

If she asked for him to touch her, would he grip her ass and kiss her neck?

Y/N's mind swirls with the unanswered questions every time she sees him, and it's getting a bit much to keep to herself. She's getting tired of being a little plaything to him –- not that she has the right to be upset, but she is. 

She doesn't like that he only comes to her every Friday night. To the club. Is she not worth more than two hours a week? 

Then spirals the anxiety.

Is he only coming to her because he thinks she's easy? Is he doing it because he knows he'll never have to do anything more than let her dance? Is he doing it out of pity? Because he thinks she's lonely, so it's to make her feel special? 

Is Azriel even attracted to her, or does he just do it for shits and giggles? Does he go back to his brothers and his men and laugh about her? At her? Is it all a bit of fun to him?

Y/N gets too in her head, and then the idea of seeing him again is revolting. She doesn't know him -- she can't say whether her thoughts are crazy or valid. She doesn't know the kind of person he really is -- despite the rumours. 

But though she goes through these motions, Y/N pushes them to the back of her head and gets on with it. She puts on her smile, and she dances. 

Azriel tends to book her out for an hour at a time, sometimes two hours if he's feeling extra needy or he has the time. And he's generous with his money, too. Typically, he pays double for her time, which is a month's rent for Y/N but pocket change for him.

It makes her feel dirty, but she has to remind herself that actually, this is her job and he does have the money and means to pay for her time.

That's all he's doing -- paying for her time. For her. Like some sort of cheap and easy prostitute that he can go to whenever he needs a fix. And she never touches him (not under his clothes), but it still makes her feel dirty.

Y/N knows what the other girls do in the private rooms; the type of shows that they offer. She doesn't judge them, she could never. They're all in the same or similar boats: broke and trying to make a living, to make ends meet. But none of them dance for the owner. None of them are ever requested by him. 

Y/N takes a deep breath and composes herself. She can't look in the mirror for a moment longer because if she does, she'll start seeing every flaw she has, and she'll never leave the damn dressing room. 

The club is busy, it always is on a Friday night. There's a party in the upper left tier, a few dancers that have been hired for the night and Y/N is more than pleased that she wasn't booked for it. It's a bunch of frat boys celebrating one of their friend's birthdays, and from Y/N's place on the lower deck, she can already recognise a few familiar faces from her classes.

The last thing she needs is for people to know she's an erotic dancer at one of the most elite, secret clubs. 

She doesn't bother questioning how the younger men know about the place. 

Y/N makes her way toward the private booths, and the one to the far right has its curtains closed. She takes a deep breath, knows he's sitting behind it, waiting for her.

She doesn't give herself any time to hype herself up or change her mind, because she's pushing through the red velvet curtain and closing it behind her. 

The booths are all the same. Dim lighting and velvet cushioned seats. The walls are deep, silky pink, the furniture all an intoxicating shade of red, and in the centre of the rounded chair, Azriel sits. 

His legs are spread wide, dressed to the nines in a slick black suit, and his bulging arms are outstretched across the back of the chair. 

He's shed his blazer, has it hanging on the side, his shirt sleeves folded up to his elbows, swirls of black ink coating his dark complexion. Everything about his attire screams power and sex, and Y/N hasn't even looked at his face yet. 

"There’s my pretty girl."

Her eyes dart up, his lips are parted. There's a knowing smirk on his pink mouth, and Azriel's eyes are a glimmering caramel under the dim light. Y/N thinks he's never looked more handsome, but that's always her thought whenever she sees him.

She can't help the contagiously shy smile that tugs on the corners of her plump lips. 

"Little late tonight," she mentions quietly. 

He doesn't say anything, and his eyes are too busy taking in her appearance. He hasn't seen this outfit before; a lilac cami bodysuit, entirely of lace. The chest of it is plunged yet lifted, and her supple breasts look the most inviting they've ever been.

Azriel struggles to wrap his head around the sight of her -- he always does. Always thinks she looks even prettier every time he sees her.

Azriel finally shrugs his shoulders. "I'm a busy man, Angel. Thought you knew that by now." He doesn't take his eyes off her, he can't.

Completely fucking mesmerised.

Y/N shrugs. "Must've been extra busy to be this late." She tells him.

Y/N is making her way closer, her hips swaying with every small step and Azriel's sure he can feel his cock twitch in his pants from anticipation.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to come."

He raises a brow as she settles herself in his lap, his scarred hands–that she’s never shown any distaste to–slowly yet respectfully finding her waist.

"Oh, I always come, baby."

She knows there's a double meaning to his statement — can tell by the smirk on his lips and the tone of his voice. Always a smooth talker.

Y/N decides that if he can play, so can she. 

"I wouldn't know."

Azriel's the one to stop her hips from moving on top of his, and he chases her gaze to lock eyes. She's deadpanning -- void of emotion on her pretty little face and Azriel thinks this newfound side of her is the sexiest thing he's witnessed in a long time.

He cocks a brow. "Playing like that tonight, are we?" He asks, his thumbs pressing into the fleshy skin of her side.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, plays coy. "I don't know. Are we?"

She twists the question, unsure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but she isn't about to back down from it, from him.

She wants more than just a lap dance. She thinks Azriel does too.

Azriel stays quiet for a moment or two like he's toying with the idea of having his way with her -- of letting her have him.

He squints and tries to look for an ounce of uncertainty or hesitancy. He comes empty, finding nothing short of confidence and desire. But has she thought it all through?

Has she thought about what this could mean? Has she accepted the fact that they may never see each other again -- something so silly because Azriel quite likes the girl, but if he kisses her, touches her -- what if it inherently puts her in danger?

She senses his dismay and offers an ultimatum; one that she knows she'll win. 

"Because either we are, or you need to find a new dancer."  

The threat awakens something in him. Something primal — animalistic. His eyes flash, darker and darker until his swelling pupils almost completely drown out the honey in his eyes.

His grip on her hips tighten, and Azriel forces her closer; lace-clad chest bumping against his clothed one. "I don't want a new dancer." He tells her. His voice is firm, tone even and stable. He knows what he wants, and now, she knows it's her.

Y/N lets her fingers reach for the longer curls on the nape of his neck. She intertwines her fingers around them, generously tugging, so his head pulls back just enough for her to use her other hand to grip his chin. Azriel's lips are parted, eyes hooded. He can feel her breath fan across his face as she brings hers closer.

"But that's all I am to you, right? Just a dancer?"

He isn't sure what she's doing -- whether she's fishing for something more or if she's about to walk out of the booth and leave him panting and painfully hard.

He plays into it, though. Let's see where this is going.

"More than just a dancer, baby." He promises.

Y/N ghosts her plump lips over his. "Yeah?" She breathes, her voice an airy whisper and Azriels got the perfect fucking sight of her cleavage. Reckons he wants nothing more than to bury his face between her pert tits.

He nods. "Mhm, you're my Angel." He tells her.

Azriel's hands reach around for her ass, grabbing handfuls and pulling her cheeks taut. He removes his hand and strikes it back down on her warm, fleshy skin. Y/N jolts into his body, teeth gnawing painfully on her lower lip to bite back her desperate pleads and whines.

Azriel gropes her again, massaging her cheeks and grabbing fistfuls. "My Angel."

His. She's all fucking his.

Her breathing is laboured as she takes in his words. Y/N tries not to let him see how riled up they make her, but she knows Azriel can see straight through any facade she tries to hide behind.

"Well, if I'm an angel, that must make you the devil."

Y/N's words echo through his mind, and his grip on her waist tightens in a squeeze before it loosens. His eyes find her chest, lip taut between his teeth.

"Maybe I am. Tell me, Angel… are you really ready to be corrupted?"

His eyes find hers, low and hooded and full of so much excitement and darkness, he gets lost in the way she pulls him in. Y/N's hands find his on her waist, her fingers gripping over his and his hold tightens again.

She rolls her hips against his crotch. "Maybe that's exactly what I want," she whispers, her lips trailing over the shell of his ear and her warm breath fans across his neck. "Maybe I'm already a little wicked."

She pulls away, nose brushing past his but he doesn't let her put any more distance between them. He wants her close, likes the feel of her warm breath on his face, likes the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut that's splattered on her skin and lingers in his mind.

Her lips are parted, as is Azriel's, and he can see the little peek of her glistening tongue, teetering between her teeth. His own does the same, subconsciously matching her teasing and his length throbs beneath her; something they both feel but neither say.

"If we do this, there's no going back. You're not just a fuck to me."

Y/N's heart skips, her heat quivering and chills run down her spine. So she is more to him... but what will this mean after?

"If I'm not just a fuck, then what am I?" She pries.

Azriel nudges the tip of his nose with hers. A smirk ghosts on the corners of her lips as they brush against hers. "My Angel," he whispers. "My only Angel."

Y/N envelopes Azriel's lips in hers, fingers reaching for the back of his head and they tug at the curls on the nape of his neck. It's hot, fiery. She can feel her soul ignite in bursts of white flames, and Azriel's no better at controlling himself.

His mind is foggy, judgement clouded, but he knows he never wants to live a day without feeling her pillowy lips on his. So he kisses her harder, grips her hips with such force they both know she'll bruise by morning. But she loves it, loves the idea of having him mark her and the animalistic part of Azriel craves it too.

"I'm not gonna go easy on you." He warns her breathlessly through the smacking of lips, but Y/N rolls more rigid atop him; pulls his hair that little bit eager.

"Good," she pants, pulling away. "I want it hard."

Y/N stands between his thick, parted thighs. She lets her mouth water as her gaze takes him in. Azriel's no better. His cock is leaping eagerly in his pants at the sight of her. Perfect body in a perfect set, lips swollen and eyes wholly fucked. Her hair is a mess, lipstick smudged and fuck, does he want to shove her face into his silk pillows and ram her little pussy from behind until she can't breathe.

"You're gonna kill me, Angel." He chokes out through his lust-filled daydream, chest heaving in anticipation.

Then she starts to sink to her knees and rubs her palms up his inner thighs, and Azriel about loses it. He shakes his head, breathing hard through gritted teeth and his hands find her wrists, halting her movements.

He shakes his head as he pulls Y/N to her feet, dragging closer until she's straddling him again. Azriel's hands cup her jaw, fingers tangled in her hair. "Gonna take my time with you, have you squirming beneath me until you beg me to stop." His promise has her drooping eyes flutter close, and her lips parting. Thinks she's the sexiest thing he's ever laid eyes on.

His nose bumps hers, lips touching but they don't kiss. "But right now, I need you to be a good girl and turn around." 

Azriel's voice is stern, commanding. It makes her pussy throb and clench and gush, and he knows it. She nods and moves on trembling legs, turning so her back is to him, and Azriel's hands find their home on the swell of her ass.

There's something about him being so strong and dominant to her that has Y/N a puddle of arousal and submission.

She bites back a squeak as he smacks a palm down on her cheek, her eyes squinted closed while Azriel licks his lips at the way her flesh moves with the force of his strike. "Perfect fucking ass."

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip, teeth piercing the skin but the slight sting of pain only spurs her on -- makes her even more eager for him. She sways her hips, ass a perfect peach shape as she does so and Azriel grips her hips and forces her on his crotch.

Her arousal is sticky against the lace of her panties as she can feel the thick outline of Azriel's cock when she gets seated over his clothed centre.

"Holy shit," she gulps.

Y/N has heard the rumours, the ones that are whispered in the shadows of the night -- of the one that's half man, half something else.

Now she can feel him directly beneath her, and Y/N's mind is heavy and clouded. "Feel how hard you make me?"

His lips are ghosting across her ear; teeth nibbling hauntingly on the shell of it which sends shivers down her spine.

Y/N nods, breathless and wanton. She can't make sense of anything, but she knows she wants this -- needs this.

"Use your words."

She swallows, shaky whimper teetering on the tip of her tongue. "Yes, I can feel you."

Azriel's sick behind her; full of himself as she strokes his ever-growing ego. There's something about hearing her so vocally express how much she wants him, how much she can feel him that has Azriel seeing stars. He isn't blind, he can see just how desperate and hungry the woman is, but a little verbal confirmation never hurt anyone.

His hands rest upon the globes of her ass again, swatting and smoothing however he pleases. The hits have her jolting and shrieking — they have tears stinging at her eyes but fuck, she wants more. She needs it harder.

"Please," she coos softly.

Her voice is cracking and unsteady like she's walking on eggshells.

"Please." Azriel mimics, voice high and childish, one that has her squirming in his lap.

He spanks her again. "Please, what?"

There's a pause of silence as Y/N attempts to catch her breath. She knows what this man can do to her, how he can make her feel. She knows he'll be far from vanilla, and maybe that's exactly what she wants and needs.

"Please, sir." She breathes. "Fuck me."

Smack!

A shrill shriek tears through her chest, and Azriel strikes his palm back down on her skin. His other busies with his belt, tugging it open and popping the button of his pants. He drags down the zip, a sound that echoes through her ears and sends shivers down her spine.

Y/N looks back over her shoulder, her hands steadying herself on Azriel's parted knees when she sees him. Thick, long... oozing with his sweet arousal that she wants to suckle up and swallow down her throat.

His cock stands tall, smacking against his lower stomach and he's big -- better than anything Y/N's ever had before. Her mouth waters at the sight. She can feel her cunt pulsing when his scarred hand wraps around his length and tugs deliciously at himself.

She whines, eager and needy. Azriel's eyes are on her ass, hasn't even realised that she's looking back at him.

He toys with the lace of her panties that disappears between her cheeks. Looping his pointer finger under the fabric at the top of her ass, he lifts it and bunches the lace in a fist, effectively tugging friction across her cunt as he gets a better view of her ass.

She's glistening, he can see. Y/N's pussy is swollen, and the sides of her lips threaten to spill out of the fabric that barely covers her.

"I'll fuck you, baby." He tells her.

Azriel tugs the lace to the side, her pussy soaked and perfect. He swipes a thumb through her wetness, swirling around her tight hole and bringing his thumb to his mouth as he suckles her arousal.

Sweet. So fucking sweet.

He grasps his cock in his hand again, pumping a few ample times before holding himself at the base and lining up with her sopping cunt. Azriel teases her for a moment, smacking the ruddy head of his prick against her pussy and she whines, rolls closer to him.

With a sick grin, Azriel massages his tip against her hole, jutting softly as he pushes in just enough to get comfortable. A low whine echoes through the room, but neither of them knows who it belongs to.

His hands find her hips, squeezing at her flesh. "But you won't be dancing on that pole for a few days."

Lifting his hips and pulling her down by hers, Azriel sheathes into her at once. Her frantic gasp tears through her lips, and her eyes are wide and watering with complete bliss and pain.

Azriel's gritting his teeth, sharp breath spitting through between them. He can't believe how fucking tight she is, and Y/N is fairly confident she can feel him so deep in her fucking stomach.

"Such a tight fucking cunt, Angel." Azriel's mind is in turmoil, can't quite fucking believe a cunt can feel this good.

Y/N is no better; she's a quivering mess on top of him, her grip on his clothed knees surely carving half-moons upon his skin but if it's causing Azriel any pain or discomfort, he seems to love it.

"So big, feel so full," she whines out.

Her ass is nestled in his lap, the coarse hairs of his pubic bone tickling at her supple skin and Y/N rolls her hips experimentally against his. He's still gripping her hips as she moves, her cunt clenching deliciously around his length and he's positively amazed by just how fucking tight she is.

"Yeah? Feel me in your tummy, Angel?" 

She's nodding, whining filthily, and she can't comprehend how sex can feel this good. One hand of Azriel's snakes around her body, tips of his fore and middle finger massaging tight circles on her clit.

Y/N's cunt is on fire, swelling and pulsing and fucking gushing all over the thickness of Azriel's entire dick. He's a mess below her, though. He can't believe how well she's taking the entirety of him.

She's snug, tight — warm and fucking soaked. The feeling of her swallowing him up is completely euphoric; has Azriel's eyes rolling to the back of his head.

His rhythm on her clit is furious; strong, tight circles that have filthy cries and moans slipping past her flawlessly painted lips. Y/N's still gripping his knees, hips rolling and pussy squelching.

"Yeah, right in my tummy. God, it's so good. Don't stop, Azzy... please don't stop."

Y/N is a blubbering mess, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack. She bounces quickly on top of him, feeling every vein and ridge of his thick cock as it pounds into her and tears her apart. Her walls are slick around him, desperate to milk him dry and take his sticky cum.

Azriel lets his eyes focus on her ass, the way it's spread just a little and how the imprint of his ringed hands are starting to bloom on her supple cheeks. Azriel's eyes divert lower when he sees it, sees her take him.

Her lips are swollen, clinging to his length as she comes off him. The base of his cock is soaked, the start of a creamy ring forming around him and Azriel can't get enough. He relents his assault on her clit, makes for her ass instead and pulls her cheeks as far apart as he can. 

His hands massage her skin, saliva welling on his tongue and parting his gritted teeth for a split second, he spits down on her puckering hole and rubs the lubricant across her ass.

Y/N keens at the touch -- the welcomed intrusion -- and bounces faster. Azriel's thumbing at her hole, teasingly rubbing the tip of his thumb around her but it has her a quivering and desperate mess.

"Please, please." She pants out, head falling back and eyes tightly shut.

Azriel gnaws on his lower lip, biting back a smirk, but his hooded eyes are a dead giveaway he's having the time of his life. "Yeah?" He rasps. "Want me in both your holes, Princess?" He baits. He knows it's exactly what she wants.

Y/N nods quickly, crying and pleading for something. He knows precisely the effect he's got on her right now, the power Azriel holds over her, (not that he sees it that way, but knowing she's in such a besotted state from him playing with her ass a little, is feeding Azriel's ego tremendously.)

"Now that's not very Angel-like of you, is it? Angel?"

A shriek leaves her lips as the tip of his finger pushes through, immediately enveloped in warmth and softness. She's blubbering, can't make sense of fucking anything and it feels so damn good.

Azriel never anticipated such a reaction from her, but he's got it, and he fucking loves it.

"Who would've thought," he pants, feet firm on the ground as he fucks up into her cunt, completely obliterating her soul, "that my Angel likes having her sweet little ass stuffed?"

A borderline pornographic cry teeters past her silky tongue, and Azriel's mind is keening. She's still as she hovers over his crotch, letting him fuck her however he damn well pleases. His pace is fast, cock brushing every overwhelming part it reaches as he pushes his thumb deeper into her ass.

"Your Angel," she whimpers out, eyes watering and thighs spasming. "I'm yours, all yours. Only want you stuffing me this good."

Her words are drawled in a matted string of barely comprehendible syllables, but Azriel can understand what she's saying.

"Yeah? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart."

"Cum! Please, cum in me, wanna feel it."

Azriel curses silently behind her, can't believe how fucking perfect this woman is. His balls feel tight, can feel her squeezing him harder and he knows she's about to come too.

"Yeah? It's gonna be a lot baby," he warns. "Think you can handle it? Think you can take my cum, Angel?"

Y/N nods quickly, vigorously. "I can take it! Please, I promise."

She's despondent, like a child. The need in her voice spurs Azriel to his edge, and as his cock bloats and shoots his arousal across her walls, she reaches her own high of euphoria.

They're both panting, grunting and moaning and whining. Y/N's gushing around his cock, creating a decent spillage on the base of him but even as he softens, he's still quite hard.

Azriel doesn't move, no. He makes no endeavour of pushing her off him. Instead, Azriel slowly pulls his fingers from her ass and cooing at the winces and whimpers that resound through the private booth. He shelters his arms around her waist to pull her back flush to his chest.

They both whimper, bodies spent, and eyes hooded. The back of Y/N's head is lounging on his shoulder when Azriel finally gets a glimpse at her face.

Totally fucked.

A wheezing laugh rumbles deep in her chest, and he reaches for her face, cupping the side of her jaw and guiding her lips to meet his in a messy, wet kiss. She pulses around him.

"You're fucking phenomenal."

Another breathy snicker falls past her lips to his. Azriel pinches her hips. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N puffs, eyes fluttering as she slowly raises, bites back the whine she wants to pout at the hollow feeling of him slipping from her cunt.

"The big bad Mob boss wants to know how I'm feeling?" She tantalises.

Azriel watches her make quick work of pulling her panties back over her cunt, halting his cum from leaking out and down her thighs, but he makes no effort to tuck his softening, yet still majestic, length back in his pants.

He lies back with his arms outstretched across the back of the oval couch. "He does," he agrees. "Cares about you, if you didn't already recognise that."

Azriel doesn't miss how she shies away from his gaze, turning her back to him to alter her outfit and to take a moment to compose herself. He takes the opportunity to fix himself too, before he's right behind her, nosing at her hair.

"I meant what I said, Angel," he murmurs. "You're not just a fuck to me."

Y/N turns, chin raised as she eyes him. Her shoulders are strained back, and Azriel knows she's making this posture move to assert confidence, and he doesn't doubt her one bit.

"Then what am I? And don't say your Angel."

"You're a strong, elegant, smart, badass, sexy, intelligent, confident woman," he begins, his hands finding her hips. "And I want you. I want you all to myself."

She peeps, her heart thumping sporadically in her chest. For a moment, it's like the mind-blowing sex from just seconds ago has been utterly omitted.

"You trust me enough for that?" She asks, and Azriel knows precisely what she's asking.

Does he trust her with who he is and what he does? Does he have trust that she will keep her mouth shut and not see him differently when she learns what he's truly capable of? Does he trust that she's all about him?

Azriel quirks a brow. "Do you trust me?"

Does she trust him with her life, because that's what it boils down to? Does she trust him enough to put her life in perpetual danger? Does she trust that he will only desire her, that he will put her before his work? Does she trust that he will never harm her?

Y/N nods. "I trust you."

Azriel drops his head, face closer to hers and the tips of their noses brush.

"Then I advise you to get your things and let me take you back to my place. Because you're in for a long fucking night, Angel."

Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a reblog and leaving some feedback!! <3

[leopard-shifter]

I SHIFTED

GUYS, I SHIFTED. YES. AFTER 4 YEARS.

so let me explain: the last month I did a dr with my bestriend, we were at this hotel in Bali just to chill and do some spirtual things yk?

we didn't do a very detailed script, we just choose the room to visualize and some personal stuff.

we did the rem activation at 4 a.m., but when I woke up I didn't wait for a text from her because if I stay too much time up I can't sleep anymore, so I immediately did my method (actually I just said in my mind affirmations).

suddently, I woke up in a different bed (the one we scripted), and my bestfriend was next to me, laid on the side, I only saw her hair and her back, the only detail I could see was her leopard pajamas.

I was very confused, so I just closed my eyes and when I opened them again I was in my cr...

The next morning I texted my bestfriend about that leopard pajama (I didn't know the personal things that she scripted) and she said that she scripted that pajama...

So yeah, I shifted and I swear it was so easy (I'll do some storytimes of attempts where I was so close to shift but I just put the intention before bed, whitout doing anything)

I hope that this motivated you, just keep trying I'm sure you will soon see your ccs!

[misshugs]

Is this what you wanted to see? || Colby Brock x Reader

You thought it was just going to be another funny, intriguing investigation with the guys, but things went south real quick. Whatever was in this hotel, didn't like you.

warnings: gore/blood, cursing, violent paranormal activity, reader getting attacked by ghosts, seeing shit that's not there (aka, being a bit of a medium), angst?

a/n: the story is fictional, therefore, the place/video that I based the story from, is not real.

word count: 2k

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"What's up guys! It's Sam and Colby. Today, we're standing right infront of one of the most haunted hotels in America..." Colby began.

The frame of my body visible to the camera as they continued their intro. I threw a tiny wave when they called out my name to the camera.

At this point I'm so used to all of this that Colby doesn't even need to ask if I'm okay with it anymore, although he still does, which I love about him.

We've been dating for months now and I swear that I'm just falling deeper in love every day. I didn't even notice myself staring lovingly at him throughout their intro to the point they had to shake me out of it.

"You good?" Nate asked, I looked up at him and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, just zoned out for a little bit, my bad." I smiled at him and he nodded.

"Just making sure."

"You guys ready?" Sam asked, looking at us.

"Yessir!" Nate responded.

"As I'll ever be." I added.

"We'll see you guys inside." Colby said back to the camera and turned it off. He looked back at us and smiled. "So, shall we?"

"We shall." I responded, laughing slightly as I got closer to him and walked inside with them. While they weren't looking, I felt a short kiss on my cheek coming from him, which just made me smile wider.

God, I love him.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

While we were all walking through a corridor, I looked back and saw an employee with a tray of food. He saw me and I nodded with a smile at him as a kind gesture. He smiled and nodded back. I looked back at the boys, only to slightly look back for a second and then completely looking back in shock.

There was no one there. It would've been impossible for someone to run and hide in that short amount of time.

Was it my imagination or did that really just happen? It seemed too real to be true.

"Co..Colby." I softly said, as my feet were unable to move after the thought of having seen something so real, yet not being there.

"Yeah?" He looked back, so did the other two. "You okay? What happened?" He got closer and looked at my face then back to the corridor, trying to see what I was looking at.

"I... there was someone here. An employee... with... a tray. I looked at him, even greeted him for a second and when I looked back he was... gone."

"No fucking way." Sam said.

"Are you serious?? You're telling me you just saw a full-on person then it disappeared?" Nate asked, shocked.

"I guess, yeah?"

"Oh, this is gonna be a good night." Sam put the camera on my face. "One of us already saw something unexplainable, wish that would've been me." He laughed.

"Next thing we know you begin to levitate brother." Colby laughed back.

I laughed as well, trying to brush away the thought of genuinely seeing a ghost.

All night, I've ended up having this eerie feeling of someone just watching us, but there was no one around. I tried to hide my uneasiness but Colby saw through me right away.

Every time he noticed, he began to flirt with me, making me feel good the best way he knows how. "You know we can just leave if you're too uncomfortable, baby." He kissed my forehead, putting his arms on my shoulders.

"Don't worry about it, I'm good. If I couldn't handle it, I would tell you right away."

"You better." He chuckled and kissed me, making all of my stress go away for a moment.

I can't lie, it did make me feel better, but somehow it just made things worse. I started seeing figures at the corners of my eyes, movements around me where nobody was walking around, even feeling touched a few times around my shoulders, hands and even ass. It felt weird, it made my anxiety grow by the minute, but somehow, it felt safe because of Colby.

And so, we ended the tour of the place and thought about trying to get some activity at around 3 in the morning. Meaning, we had nothing else to do. I was already tired enough, feeling as if the energy in my body has been drained to its core. I believed that it was solely because of the much walking and anxiety that was rising constantly.

Although the others planned on staying awake until the hour came, I told them I will try and get some sleep. And so, they would wake me up when the time comes.

Lying in the bed, I didn't stay up for long until my eyelids were closed and my brain just shut down. Usually, I'm quite the light sleeper, but this time I was knocked out.

Until I felt it.

I felt some hands on my legs. Honestly, I wasn't conscious enough to know if it was in my dreams or in real life. It turns out, it was real. And it wasn't Colby, or anyone else. But I felt it, tight on my leg. I couldn't even think right before I felt a pull and suddenly I was on the floor.

I could feel a sharp pain on my head as it was the first thing that touched the floor. I quickly woke up, shaken up by the sudden act. I whined in pain as the other seemingly stood up from their places and looked at me, possibly concerned, believing I might've just moved and fallen off the bed.

Before they even got closer, I got pulled back. This time, being completely awake, I yelled out, looking back at whatever force was holding my legs, one to see nothing at all.

And it was at that point when I felt genuine fear. I tried my hardest to hold onto the floor or anything really, but to no avail. Tears filling my tired eyes as I tried to focus my vision to the things around me. Next thing I knew I was thrown onto the wall, my back throbbing with pain as I felt a huge headache from the mild concussion I probably had after all of this.

To this point, everyone was frightened. Fear made them almost unable to walk, talk even. I could see them, their scared faces, trying to do something but there was this tension that made them... stop in place. Like this pressure, this force that was throwing me around like a ragdoll. They couldn't help me, it seemed.

At least in my point of view.

Unbeknownst to me, they were actually trying to set themselves free from this invisible pressure. Trying to move, but feeling like they've had a ton of weight on top of them that they couldn't escape from.

As I fell to the floor, I tried to gain back my breathing. Shaking on the floor, I looked up and saw Colby screaming my name while being set free from the pressure, running towards me. I looked at him with hope in my eyes, trying to pull my arm up to hold him, only to feel myself getting pulled again. This time, thrown towards the couch.

Although the direct hit to the couch didn't feel as bad, I had enough force to fall back behind the couch and to the floor. Since I tried to hold myself with the couch, unfortunately, it leaned back on itself and fell on top of me. Just the cherry on top.

I whined in pain, unable to move, stuck underneath the couch with bruises all over my body and the wet feeling of warm liquid on my back and the top of my head, wishing it would've only been sweat.

My vision was blurry.

My senses were all fucked up.

It all happened so quick that I don't think even they would've reacted in time even if they were able to move freely.

With my eyes closed, I could feel the pressure from the couch lift from my chest and a pair of arms holding me tightly.

"Oh my fucking god. Oh shit. Fuck. We need to get the fuck out of here." I heard Colby desperately scream. As I opened my eyes, I could see his teary ones. Holding me onto his arms, his eyes filled with guilt and fear. "Are you okay? Fuck..."

"Hurts..." I was able to whisper out those words, shaking and I feel myself coughing onto my hand. Looking back at the now blood-drenched hand, the pain began to intensify. My vision kept on failing, only able to see blobs of colors here and there.

Colby held me on his arms and pulled me up from the floor, which made me whimper in pain, feeling my back getting even more wet by the moment.

"Shit. Her back is bleeding... Fuck." I could hear Sam's shaky voice as I tried to gain back my breath, trying to calm myself down as I heard the rapidly increasing heartbeat of Colby.

Somehow, it made me feel okay. Being by his side, the rush of everything around almost seemed softer, calmer. I could no longer listen to everything that was going on.

Muffled sounds were the only thing that could pass through.

Yelling.

Moving.

A tight squeeze.

I felt numb. For a moment, at least.

My name.

I heard my name and suddenly, I was conscious again. I blinked a few times and looked up at the desperate Colby. "Please... tell me you're okay... fuck..." His tears probably blurring his eyesight.

A glimpse of strength came back to me and I was able to touch his cheek with my hand. He quickly looked down at me. "I'm fine... I'm fine..."

"Right after we walk out of the room..." Nate pointed out, holding all of their stuff in their hands.

"We need to get the fuck out of here and get her to a hospital." Sam said, walking quickly with the others. I was confused, seemingly forgetting for a brief moment about how I was brutally assaulted by a ghost.

"Hospital? Why are we going to a hos..." As I was talking, I realized why they were hurriedly walking away. I felt the pain all over again. I groaned at the feeling, shaking on Colby's arms.

"You'll be okay, you're going to be fine. Don't move. Deep breaths, baby." Colby tried to calm me down, his shaky breath giving away his anxiety.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

My back was all bruised up. I had some unknown hand marks on my legs, where I was pulled from. Some scratches tinted my back red when I got into the ER, as well as a few bumps in my head that gave me a red face.

The memories of what happened were blurry, yet so vivid.

And the only thing keeping me conscious was him. I could see it in his face, he felt guilty. Guilty for something that wasn't even his fault.

"Shouldn't have let you go with us... we should've stopped when you began to see so many things... I'm so stupid." He whispered under his breath.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." I said. He reluctantly looked up and into my eyes. I smiled. "It wasn't your fault. Nothing about this could've been predicted, alright? Don't blame yourself." He smiled slightly, only to sigh.

"Yeah, but..." I interrupted him.

"No buts. I'm fine. I'm still here, with you. Right?" I responded, softly while holding his hand. "No need to feel guilty, no need to be sorry. You just have to promise me a good time when I get out of here, yeah? And a good meal." I smiled. "Food here kinda taste like shit." He chuckled, making me smile even more. "That's the face I like to see."

"I love you, so much." He said, holding my hand up to his lips and leaving a soft kiss on them, making my cheeks flutter by the site of his sensitive side.

"I love you too. Now, do that again, but closer to my face."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

it's been a while since i've written something like this, and honestly i just remembered how fun and angsty it is to write about getting literally beaten up by a ghost lmao

hope you liked it, requests are appreciated!

-nikkõ

[gabrielleragusi]

For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies

Hi there! I’ve been wanting to compile a list of commission platforms that I’ve personally used for the longest time, and I finally did it! I’ve highlighted the still-active commission platforms in bold and struck those that don't exist anymore so you can jump to the sections that interest you without needing to read my entire story.

Let me start by briefly introducing myself.

I’m Gabrielle, a fantasy illustrator. Since 2014, I’ve been working on book covers and illustrations for publishers, authors, and book subscription boxes. Early on, work wasn’t as frequent as it is now. I had to search for opportunities myself, and even small private commissions were important for building my portfolio and earning some money, which I’d spend on materials, books, and online courses. Like many other artists, I started out by trying my luck with the biggest art community available at the time.

DeviantArt

2009-2018

Once upon a time, there was a virtual haven called DeviantArt. To my teenage self, it was a magical place. I signed up in 2009 and thought I’d never leave!

At first, I created an account just to share my work and learn. I didn’t even think about commissions for four or five years. But when that first inquiry finally landed in my inbox, things took off! My mum swears she remembers my excitement when I got my first commission, but for some reason, I’ve completely forgotten about it. I can't remember what it was or how much it paid. It might have been a portrait of a fantasy character.

Commissions on DeviantArt were fairly frequent, especially considering my cheap prices at the time. I used to offer discounts and post my rates in my DeviantArt journal, or in Commission groups that featured artists either monthly or weekly. After checking out my profile, a client could simply send me a private message and from there, we’d discuss payment, deadlines, and other details, and the platform didn’t take any fees, much like how ArtStation works today. Everything happened through private messages or email, with direct contact between artist and client.

The downside of this process was that there was no dispute resolution system on the platform. I had to handle all issues myself, and unfortunately, problems did arise sometimes: there were clients changing their minds about commissions, asking for refunds after work was delivered, refusing to pay, or just ghosting me. These issues didn’t happen because clients were evil, but rather because I was inexperienced and allowed some to take advantage of my naivety.

However, all that frustration helped me develop my commission process through trial and error (mostly error). And despite the challenges, I can say with satisfaction that most of the commissions I received through my DeviantArt profile were positive experiences.

DeviantArt eventually introduced a commission feature for Core (Premium) users, which came with a platform fee, but I didn’t use it much, and I’m not sure if it still exists.

The real beauty of dA, though, was the connections I made. I was able to meet people, both artists and clients, that I’m still in contact with today, and some of whom I still collaborate with.

I closed my account in 2018 or 2019, but by that time, I hadn’t really used it for a couple of years. The new user interface was a bit of a turn-off for me. I had always loved the geeky, and dare I say cozy, look of the old green and grey aesthetic, with its customisable panels that you could move around and personalise with HTML code... But I digress.

Artists and Clients

2013-2016

While taking small commissions on DeviantArt, I discovered Artists & Clients. It was a nice platform for clients to get things like their D&D characters or groups illustrated for relatively cheap. I think my highest price was $50 for a single character portrait, with the platform taking a 15% cut. I used it for about two or three years before the platform started to change.

As more artists with hentai art styles flooded in, the homepage shifted, and so did the clientele. There’s nothing wrong with drawing naked anime girls, of course, but you can understand that if a client is looking for a fantasy, semi-realistic painting of their female orc character, or a realistic portrait of their spouse, it's more than likely that they won't bother sifting through a sea of anime girls to find the style they want, imagining it isn't here. Let's just say that, at the time, the website took a definite direction that wasn't in line with my genre, but this direction didn't make the different, more realistic art styles stand out either.

Soon, commissions slowed down for me, so I closed my account, but by then I was already working elsewhere.

That said, this platform could still be a useful tool if you’re looking to take on smaller commissions.

DreamUp

2014-2015

DreamUp wasn’t an AI generator back then. It was actually a subsidiary of DeviantArt, where clients could post projects and artists could apply. It was a competitive platform that offered well-paid work–very well-paid. I remember seeing jobs posted that ranged from $300 to $1,200. DreamUp was a very professional platform for clients with a mid to high budget.

I believe I landed my very first book cover commission through this website when I was in my last year of high school. I remember getting the job and going to school the next morning, excited to share the news with my classmates. Everyone was super thrilled for me (we were a really close-knit class!), and I felt like I was walking on air.

Unfortunately, as far as I know, that book was never released, but it didn’t matter because I was moving forward, and fast.

I’m not sure when DreamUp was shut down, but I do know that DeviantArt held onto the copyrighted name, assigning it to something so anti-old DreamUp that it still boggles my mind.

ArtCorgi

Now Artistree

2014-2019

When I received an invitation to join ArtCorgi from its founder, I already had a somewhat consistent portfolio. I was painting portraits and fantasy illustrations, and the clients on this platform were looking for both–your typical wedding and pet portraits, as well as book covers, which were what really interested me. To get to the latter, I had to do the former. Over the years, I’ve painted so many realistic portraits that now I have a strict rule for my own sanity not to do them any more. I have great respect for portrait artists, but it’s just not me.

When I first submitted my prices to the person I was in contact with, she kindly suggested that I raise them... a lot. That was a major step forward in my professional career. I went from charging $50 to $100/$200 overnight. And to my surprise, people actually wanted to commission me at those prices!

From 2014 to 2019, I took nearly every commission that came my way. I never spoke directly with the clients; all instructions and feedback went through my point of contact, which helped maintain a level of professionalism, although now that I’m used to working directly with clients, I’m not sure I’d want to go back to having an intermediary.

Sadly, as with all good things, this chapter came to an end. My point of contact eventually left communication in the hands of someone else, and shortly after, the commission fee changed to, I believe, 30%.

Simply put, 30% is an unrealistic cut for a website like this. For an agent that gets you all kinds of big work in the publishing industry, sure, but since this was not the case I had to stop taking commissions. Despite that, my overall experience with ArtCorgi was very positive.

Today, ArtCorgi joined another platform, Artistree. As far as I can tell, Artistree doesn’t take any fees from artists, with clients covering a small cost instead.

Sketchmob (?)

2016-2020

This was probably the platform I used the most. I’ve lost count of how many commissions I received through Sketchmob. Many. Enough to generate a steady income at the time. With reasonable fees and a variety of art styles available, clients contacted me almost daily. Communication was direct between artists and clients, and payments could be split. The review system also worked very well… for a while.

Once I raised my prices, requests became fewer and farther apart. But by then, I was already working with my own clients.

Is this platform still active? Who knows. The website is still up and the chat feature works, but I’ve seen users complain that money available for withdrawal never arrived via PayPal (the only payment method the platform accepted, if I remember correctly). Personally, I wouldn’t risk completing a job through Sketchmob right now, at least not until they release an update.

If you’ve used the platform recently and successfully received payment within the last six months, please let me know, and I’d be happy to update this section!

Upwork

2017-2019

In 2017, I was determined to break into the book publishing industry. After trying out Fiverr and Freelancer.com with no success (the competition was too fierce for someone just starting out), I decided to give Upwork a shot. The platform looked very professional, and while the process sounded a bit complicated, I wanted to land the interesting projects I saw featured in my category. I really wanted to work with a big client… but big clients didn’t seem to want me, despite having the Rising Talent badge.

In two years of bidding for jobs and submitting proposals, I only landed two projects: a small commission from a private client who actually reached out to me, and another project that I bid on.

Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic at the time and truly appreciated every opportunity that came my way. But looking back, I can see why Upwork didn’t work out for me. The platform just wasn’t the right fit for my style and niche, which is fantasy illustration. Graphic design, however, was (and still is) in much higher demand.

The commission process on Upwork wasn’t as simple as on other platforms. For instance, at the time, costs were calculated hourly, which was a challenge for someone like me who prefers working with flat fees (having already calculated my average hours spent on an illustration). From what I’ve seen, this has since changed.

One positive aspect of Upwork is its current 10% cut on what artists earn. I don’t recall if this has changed over the years, but 10% is quite reasonable in my experience. Of course, 0% would be even better, but for a platform as large as Upwork, 10% is fair.

Illustration Agency

2019-2021

By 2019, I had built a solid, consistent portfolio thanks to my personal work and commissions. I had a simple website in place, my Instagram following was growing… I was steadily working toward my goal of illustrating covers for big publishers (which didn't happen until two years ago).

So, when an illustration agency reached out to me one day, I was over the moon. I had always heard that artists were the ones who had to approach agencies, not the other way around.

Well, that should have been my first red flag.

I won’t name this agency because, unfortunately, I have nothing positive to say about it. In fact, the word “nothing” perfectly describes my involvement with them. Nothing came of this barely there experience.

The agency invited me to sign up, not on an exclusive basis, but they assured me they’d get me work. That work never came. Once in a while, I’d receive messages saying they were trying to pitch my portfolio to a French publisher or another client, but... nothing.

Please understand that meanwhile I was already working directly with shops and authors, so I don’t believe my portfolio was the problem. The real issue was something I didn’t realise at the time: some agencies do this. They feature talented artists in their catalogue without having actual clients lined up, just to appear more professional and credible to potential clients. Did this strategy work for them? Maybe. I’ll never know.

In 2021, I politely asked them to remove my portfolio from their website, and that was the end of it.

After that, I never actively sought out an agent again. By the time my portfolio was strong enough to approach a serious agency, I just didn’t need representation anymore.

Hireillo

2019-2022

My experience with Hire an Illustrator, or Hireillo, is mixed. At the time, Hireillo was a platform that hosted artists' portfolios, featured artist-submitted news, provided useful articles, resources, and directories of artists and agents. I joined the site hoping to catch the eye of publishers, but I was mostly contacted by authors and one fellow artist for a graphic novel.

Unfortunately, most inquiries didn’t go beyond the first couple of messages due to budget constraints. I did, however, have fun sharing news about my painting process and projects I landed on my own, which were often featured by the website. Additionally, if I had questions about 'complicated' things like copyright, or just needed advice, I could ask the website’s owner and that was incredibly helpful.

Despite these benefits, I didn’t see any real results, which was a little disappointing. The subscription fee was also... odd, for lack of a better word. $5 per week. In the end I just couldn’t justify the cost, so I stopped using the website altogether.

Reedsy

2019-2022

Finally, we come to the turning point.

I remember stumbling upon Reedsy randomly. It wasn’t very well known at the time, and I think it still isn’t. I was nervous when I submitted my portfolio because their catalogue features the best of the best: designers who’ve created covers for bestsellers, THE bestsellers, people who’ve worked on Stephen King covers, or George R.R. Martin's. Designers, editors, and marketers who are veterans. I didn’t have high hopes for my application. So, I was in shock when it got accepted.

I had an introductory Skype call with a representative from Reedsy, who explained how everything worked. Before the call ended, I remember asking if there was a good chance I’d get work through the platform. The rep laughed and said, “Yes.”

A few weeks in, I understood that laugh.

Reedsy has an overwhelming demand for book covers and commercial projects. For every designer there are many more clients. In peak seasons, I was getting requests almost every day. I’m not exaggerating.

Reedsy transformed my portfolio and my pricing structure. Thanks to the income I earned through the platform, I was finally able not to take everything that came my way but be selective and choose only the projects that really interested me.

The commission process is simple: artists pretty much decide how to split payments, what to include in agreements, and the best part, the most beautiful and helpful feature of all, they can request and adjust deadlines. For someone like me who's terrible with deadlines, this feature was a lifesaver. The admins are also very kind and responsive, available via email or chat.

Unfortunately (this is my last 'unfortunately', I promise), my time on Reedsy came to an end for personal reasons. I’ll explain since it’s no secret.

All my images on Reedsy were watermarked with my signature (my full name), which apparently violated the platform’s rules. Why? Because if a client saw my last name, they could contact me directly and bypass Reedsy, which meant the platform lost potential fees. I’ll admit this did happen a few times, but I had the good sense to redirect the client back to Reedsy.

After three years, an admin finally noticed and asked me to remove my full name from the watermark and any text on my profile. It was a simple and reasonable request, but here’s where the problem started. Profiles on Reedsy are public, and images appear in search engines like Google Images, meaning anyone could download my work and use it without permission. Sure, watermarks can be removed, but uploading my work without one in the first place felt like a bad idea. Btw, not only do I use watermarks, but I also use Glaze to protect my illustrations before sharing them online.

Anyway, for this reason, and also because I couldn’t get over the fact that full names were public at the time, something I won’t get into because, believe me, I tried over email, and my reasons went into the void (now, last names are just initialised, like Gabrielle R. Okay. Sure.), I had to close my account–they would have done it anyway because it was already 'flagged'.

Overall, if you’re willing to overlook the last name conundrum, I can’t recommend Reedsy enough. If you have a killer, solid portfolio and a love for books and editorial projects, go for it!

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

I hope you'll find this useful! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask (: Oh, and here's an old article I wrote in 2020, titled:

Tips to freelance illustrators to avoid being screwed over

Who knows, maybe I'll write another 'article' post in four years!

Instagram  - ArtStation - Website - Inprnt - Etsy - TikTok

[rosenclaws]

Hi love, I hope you’re doing well! I’ve been a fan of (stalking but let’s not talk about it) your blog for a little while, but this is the first time I’ve sent in a request for you! Your writing for Leopold is literally the sweetest ever and you’re the only writer I know of that actively writes for him, it’s so dry out here!! I was wondering if I could request something fluffy with Leopold x fem!reader where is like the most tooth-rotting fluff you can think of. I’m talking him trying to court the reader even though it’s the modern day and that’s not really a thing anymore and shes a bit confused but loves it, a super touchy reader that loves to shower Leo with her affection, literally anything. Those are just ideas, feel free to be as creative as you’d like (and don’t be shy if you wanna make it a longer fic, I’ll take what I can get). This fandom (if I can even call it that) is such a barren wasteland for fanfics and you are such an amazing writer for him and just in general!!

Much love 💕

Courting || Leopold Mountbatten x Reader

a/n: Hi!! Okay I kinda took this in a slightly different direction so if its not what you wanted then plz feel free to send in another request (ik they're closed but I will make an exception) ALSO FUCK HES SO HANDSOME IM GONNA SCREAM

wc: 1.2k

warning: reader wears lipstick

The last thing you expected was to find a neatly written letter waiting for you when you got home. Pinned neatly to the door with a small rose attached to it. You recognized Leopold's handwriting immediately, no one else you know has such beautiful penmanship.

There’s a flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you open the letter. You and Leopold have gotten very close to each other. He’s unbelievably charming and so sweet and he’s just everything. The way he looks at you, it makes you feel like the only one in the world.

Hello my love,

I am writing to ask if you would do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner and a show this Friday night. I have found myself completely captured by your beauty, you live in my every thought. Every breath I breathe for you and every beat of my heart calls your name. I wish to court you and have the honor of calling you mine.

Your dearest Leopold

You read the letter once, and then again and again. Your fingers trace each letter. Never have you had anyone say something so precious to you before. The rose smells fresh and sweet, he must have gotten it this morning. You hurry to write him a reply, accepting his offer with great enthusiasm.

Folding the letter you press your lips the corner of the paper leaving a lipstick mark. Leopold lives just down the hall so you walk over. Just as you’re about to slip the letter under the door it swings open.

“Leo!” You squeak out as stand back up, almost knocking your head into his chest.

"Hello darling." He's dressed in casual clothes and my god you need to thank whoever introduced him to sweatpants. Anyways.

"I see you received my letter." You bite your lip as you hand over your letter. His name written as fancy as you can.

"Yeah, it was really sweet Leo." He takes the letter and you swear he blushes a little when he sees the lipstick mark. He stares at you for a while, with that perfect smile and gorgeous eyes.

"I uh, I'll see you Friday." His eyes light up at your words.

"I'll see you Friday my love." He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles.

You manage to keep it together as he shuts the door but once you make it back to your apartment you're melting. A giddy feeling you haven't felt in years. You have to wonder how he will attempt to court you in modern day. People don't really court anymore but all you care about is that you have a date with Leopold. Friday couldn't come fast enough.

You had never felt this nervous before. Spending way too long getting ready just to be done an hour early. It's just Leopold, you know Leopold. There's no reason to be nervous but you can't stop the tornado of worry brewing inside of you.

What if something goes wrong? Or the date goes horrible? What if he decides he doesn't like you anymore? What if this ruins your friendship. You shake your head and try to dispel any bad thoughts.

Tonight was going to be great. It has to be. There's a knock at the door and you quickly double check everything before opening it. Any worry still residing in your mind disappears. A beautiful bouquet of flowers is handed to you as Leopold is dressed to the nines. A crisp white shirt and black pants.

"They're beautiful." You say admiring the flowers. Fresh and absolutely gorgeous.

"Not as beautiful as you." Leopold says, barely at a whisper. Like he can't believe that you've even agreed to a date with him. He can't help but admire everything about you. To your smile, your beauty, your laugh, your voice. You're perfect.

You place the flowers in a vase and then the two of you are off. He rests his hand on your back as you walk through the city. His thumb draws circles in your back as you approach the restaurant. He's planned everything himself and he can't help but hope it's enough for you.

Dinner is lovely and the conversation flows without any awkwardness. You're talking to your friend Leopold but you know there's something more as you slowly get closer to each other as the night goes on. Hidden away in the corner booth you are free to get lost in each others eyes. Though you wish you could stay here all night he promised a show. Leopold loved the theater and he promised one day to take you and tonight was the night.

"How did you get such good seats?" You ask as he waits for you to sit before he does.

"I have my ways darling." You're hyper aware of just how close the two of you had gotten at dinner and how close you are now.

The show is interesting yes but Leopold was a very distracting man. Your hands inch closer together. Glancing over at Leopold you find him already looking at you. He waits for your silent approval, not wanting to cross an boundaries. So you take the leap. Intertwining your hands together.

A faint blush on his face and a big smile on yours. His hands are so warm and they fit so perfectly with your hand. When the show ends you reluctantly head back home. You don't want this night to end. Your hands swing together as you gush about the play.

"I had a wonderful night Leopold," You're leaning against your door, wanting so badly to keep the night going. His hair swoops perfectly in front of his forehead and he's got this pretty smile that you can't stop staring at.

"So did I, Thank you for accompanying me tonight." His eyes drift to your lips.

It's adorable seeing just how old school he really is. You know he's from 1876 but still. Modern boys pale in comparison to Leopold.

"You know you don't have to be so nervous Leo, I want to kiss you too." You say boldly.

He chuckles, ducking his head as bites his lip softly. He cups your face gently and you close eyes as he gently captures your lips in a kiss. He's gentle and sweet and you crave more. Still he pulls away much too soon. You pout slightly and he laughs.

"I know I'm much more traditional than you're used to." He traces your lips with his thumb. Admiring every little detail of your face.

"But someone as wonderful as you deserves to be treated with the upmost respect." He kisses your forehead gently.

"You deserve to be loved," Another kiss.

"To be cherished," Another.

"And to be worshiped." Words fail you completely. Leopold has rendered you utterly speechless.

"Did I overstep?" He asks, worried about you silence.

You shake your head. practically jumping into him as you kiss him. Passionately running your hands through his hair. He groans slightly as you tug on his hair. He pushes you against the wall, bracing your head with his hand as he kisses back.

"I'm falling in love with you." He whispers. A hopeful glint in his eyes.

"I'm already in love with you." You admit.

You become lost in his lips as he kisses you again. He just can't get enough. You blindly reach for the door handle and without argument pull him inside of your apartment.

Soft kisses and laughter are shared quietly between the two of you. Time ticks by but you have lost all sense of care in the world. All that matters to you is this moment. Your fairytale come to life. And it was just perfect.

[puppyplayhouse]

Thinking about puppy owner Changbin and his obnoxiously huge dick

Warnings: size kink, lil hint of struggle play, COME CAN COCK BINNIE LOVERS RISE

He's so soft and so sweet with his puppy. Tells them how good they are every second of the day and spoils them rotten. Drags them along with him wherever he goes, and they're so eager to be with him that he doesn't need to ask anymore. He just hands them their shoes and they're ready to go.

This leads to a lot of semi public quickies, of course. In dressing rooms, bathrooms, and deserted hallways. You're always eager to be sinking to your knees for him and he just loves seeing you down there, jerking his cock and lapping at him desperately even though you struggle so much with fitting him in your mouth.

Maybe he has a size kink. Maybe he's just obsessed with the way ypu beg him to just fuck you without prep because you SWEAR you can take it, only to be crying and whimpering beneath him complaining that he's too big and you can't do it.

He's so good with prepping you. So patient when he slowly works as many fingers as he can into you to get you nice and relaxed and ready to take him. You're always so desperate, and your patience is much less than his, but he always tells you that there's no pointing in fucking you if you can't get past the first inch and you know he's right.

God, when he finally manages to stuff his cock into you? Fucked out immediately. K.O. fills you to the absolute BRIM and fucks you so slow and deep that honestly, there wouldn't be any room for thoughts even if you could manage them.

"Look at you, puppy. Is it good? You like being stuffed nice and full, don't you?"

He actively seeks praise, maybe because he's worried he might hurt you and not know it. He needs to know that it feels good for you.

There's nothing he loves more than hearing your breath hitch, your voice so small, and choked as you whisper out how full you feel and how big he is. Sure, he already knows, but hearing you say it so breathless and pleading really does something to him.

"Takin' it so well. Puppy takes Binnies cock so fucking well. Pretty pussy was made for it, wasn't it?"

He asks so many questions but they just spur you on, and when you get a little too enthusiastic and try to meet his thrusts, he just pins you down with a firm grip on your hips and tells you no, because good dogs need to be patient and he'll give you more when he's ready, not when you demand it.

He's always so slow at first, rolling his hips lazily more than anything. He savours the feeling of you clenching around him as the tip of his cock digs into your gspot with every forward motion. God does he know how to work his hips.

"You're crying, puppy. 'S not enough, is it? Need me to fuck you harder? So greedy."

He builds up to it, but eventually, he's got your hands pinned beside your head, and he's watching your struggle beneath him, practically writhing as you whimper and whine and tell him its too big, too much. He knows you don't mean it, of course, you're just so easily overwhelmed.

"Shhh baby. You can take it. You always do, don't you? You don't want anyone else to have it, right?"

He loves watching the panic flash across your face, but he will soothe you instantly, kissing you deeply and squeezing your hand.

"Only you can take it, baby. Binnie knows you can. Cause you're his good puppy, aren't you? Always taking whatever I wanna give you."

I need him I need him I need him

[mariposa-drowned]

Hear me out, Ellie x pregnant reader doing the trend where you lift up your s/o belly to relieve the weight and then having a lil heart to heart bc you just feel so useless due to said pregnancy

Ellie was currently scrolling tiktok as you sat on the couch together, your attention being taken up by whatever show you had thrown on TV, not even noticing the sound coming from Ellie's phone, you were so used to her needing multiple different forms of entertainment at the same time that it barley even phased you anymore.

You were eight months pregnant and ready for this baby to be out. You're tired all the time and can't stand for too long without discomfort, which made you feel useless. No matter how much Ellie assured you she was completely fine with taking over daily tasks, even having Joel over sometimes to entertain you while she worked on stuff, or the other way around. Tommy had even been over a few times with Maria as she tried to offer you tips and tricks on how to deal with the discomfort.

Ellie felt terrible that she couldn't do more for you. Besides massages and the occasional sex that you swore helped; Ellie was always looking for ways to help. Which is why when a video popped up of a man getting behind his wife to lift her pregnant belly for a few seconds, Ellie was immediately ushering you up, hoping that you would get the same relief that the girl in the video seemed to get.

"Ellie what the hell are you doing"

"just trust me babe this is gonna feel great"

"don't kill me please. Or the baby"

Ellie rolled her eyes, positioning herself behind you, her long arms coming to intertwine right below your bump.

"kay take a deep breath"

You huffed but did as told. Then a sudden rush of incredible relief filling you as Ellie lifted your bump up you groaned, your hand reaching behind you to entangle itself in Ellie's hair.

"hooolyyy fuck Ellie"

"yeah? That feel good mama?"

"ohmygod can we just stay here for a minute please"

"as long as you need babe"

You were practically on the verge of tears from the relief you were currently feeling, you hand gripping a bit harder where it was entangled in Ellie's hair. She noticed your teary eyes, quickly becoming concerned.

"hey what's wrong am I hurting you?" She worried as she slowly started to drop your belly.

"don't you dare drop your hands Ellie Williams"

You immediately gripped her hand with a force she didn't even know you possessed.

Ellie immediately reassumed her position "christ babe sorry, was just a bit worried when my wife starts crying"

"just feels really fuckin good els" you stated with watery eyes

"hey hey don't cry mama, it's alright I'll do this whenever you need until they're here babe. It's alright"

"m'sorry just feels s'nice, I just feel so useless because I'm so uncomfortable all the time n I can't do anything"

Ellies heart broke a little at your confession "don't be sorry at all, you hear me?" C'mon let's go sit for a minute, I promise I'll do this again later, jus' wanna talk to you"

You leaned your head back to try and meet her eyes, your vision still a bit blurred

"pinky swear?"

"cross my heart babe. C'mon I'm gonna start lowerin my hands now"

You tried to keep her there as long as you could, but inevitably Ellie's hands left their place under your stomach. You sighed as she started to lead you to the couch. She plopped down, spreading her legs and ushering you in-between them to which you promptly did, getting as comfortable as you could in-between her legs.

Ellie grabbed one of your hands, the other resting on your bulging stomach tracing small shapes.

"I need you to listen to me for a minute babe"

You tilted you head back to lean on your shoulder semi-looking at her while humming a small mhm

"I love you. So much. But you need to understand that you are actively making a living being in you right now. You are allowed to be sick and tired and uncomfortable, it's expected. But you need to understand that we are in this together. I will always be here, I want to be here for you, which means that if you can't do something, I pull my weight here. That's my job mama, I gotta take care of you and little bean" Ellie smiled through her last sentence, looking down to meet your smiling face aswell

"I love you els. Thank you, for everything"

"always and forever babe"

"always and forever" you smiled back at her, leaning up to give a peck on Ellie's lips.

[mulletmitsuya]

Toman Groupchat

Warnings: swearing, the topic of sex is brought up a lot, mentions of the r word (i don't actually say it i just say "r word"), gayness, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, teenage boys. also snuck in a lot of personal headcanons so that might not be your thing

Desc: Mikey lost his V-card

Mikey: just had the sex

Mikey: it's not all that, tbh

Mikey: i didn't like it

Mikey: i was quite indifferent to the situation actually

Mitsuya: that's great 👍

Smiley: you're the last one to lose your v-card and you come back with a report like this?😒

Smiley: we want details

Draken: whose we?

Mitsuya: no we don't

Chifuyu: it must have been difficult tackling the whole issue with you being 5'3 and all

Mikey: you're an inch taller than me😐

Chifuyu: "taller" being the key word

Baji: what didn't you like about the sex?

Baji: i think sex is great

Kazutora: i think it's super nice until you get in over your head and freak out about your performance so you end up having a panic attack and she just leaves

Smiley: LMAOOOOOO

Draken: that's actually kinda sad, you good?

Kazutora: no? i'll never emotionally recover. never again

Baji: maybe it should be with someone you trust and have been friends with for a number of years. maybe even your best friend who would do anything for you. that's just my opinion tho

Draken: just tell him ffs. anything but this

Kazutora: i have no girl friends?? the only women i know who're affiliated with this friendgroup are hina (taken), emma (mikey's sister and also taken), and yuzuha (gay)

Baji: why does it have to be a girl

Mikey: bro

Hakkai: 💀

Smiley: mention homosexuality once and here Hakkai comes

Hakkai: 😐

Kazutora: Baji i know you're gay and i support your lgbtq+ lifestyle but i'm not into dicks like you are man

Baji: what about assholes

Mitsuya: what's the point of this, like just ask him out atp

Mikey: you'd let KAZUTORA top???? insane

Kazutora: what's wrong with me topping? also who am i topping??

Smiley: well you're a twink so you're obviously a bottom

Chifuyu: Kazutora are you actually just gonna ignore what everyone else is saying

Kazutora: aren't you guys talking to Baji?

Draken: are you stupid or what

Kazutora: i'm really confused rn can we just to back to talking about Mikey

Mikey: yes actually. i've decided that i don't like sex and won't be doing it again

Chifuyu: bad day for Takemitchy

Takemitchy: what?

Chifuyu: well since you ride his dick so much

Takemitchy: HUH

Takemitchy: i've never done that with Mikey-kun tho??? i'm with Hina? also I'm straight so I don't understand what you mean by that 😥

Chifuyu: i don't actually mean-

Chifuyu: nvm

Baji: are we allowed to call people the r word anymore

Angry: no it's a slur

Baji: you're probably mad because people said it to you huh? lmao

Angry: yes

Baji: oh

Smiley: i didn't even mean it Angry it was just that one time

Angry: several, one times. but okay

Angry: i still love you

Smiley: can you not say that in front of our friends like idk what to do rn cause i can't say it back so it looks embarssing for you

Angry: 😕

Smiley: ...

Angry: ☹️

Smiley: i love you too

Angry: thank you

Chifuyu: very rare Smiley human decency moment

Draken: you guys are such weird siblings but that was great to watch. character development in a matter of seconds

Smiley: you should all kill yourselves

Mikey: man i really want to

Mikey: that was a literal joke before you guys get weird

Draken: you've actively tried to kill yourself tho

Mikey: yeah but like i won't do it anymore

Baji: we must just, believe you?

Mikey: i know that's hard to do because i lie all the time but yes

Draken: not a convincing argument but nice try

Mitsuya: terrible try actually. Mikey should we be worried?

Mikey: miss me with that gay shit, i'm fine

Mitsuya: i hate you guys so much

Draken: not me tho cause i'm your og

Mitsuya: 😐

Mitsuya: yeah i guess

Draken: 🤞

Draken: i'm gonna go out with my girlfriend now

Draken: also Mikey you're probably asexual. or you haven't found the right one to do it with yet idk

Mikey: what's asexual

Draken: google it

Mikey: Ken-chin c'mon i'm having a crisis rn

Draken: basically low or very little sexual attraction to others

Draken: there's a whole spectrum to it tho so you should probably do some research because that was an extremely watered down explanation

Draken: i'm ace too if that helps

Baji: Emma's a whole ass slut so how does she deal with that

Smiley: imagine bagging Ryuguji Ken with his sexy ass and he doesn't wanna smash. tragic

Draken: first of all, Baji i'll fucking kill you, never say that about Emma again

Draken: and fuck you Smiley

Angry: are you traumatized because of living in a sex orientated/obsessed environment so you eventually began to detest any affiliation with the act?

Draken: yes actually

Angry: i see

Mikey: i just don't like it. i'm not traumatized like Ken-chin :(

Draken: it's whatever

Baji: calm down i didn't call Emma a slut as an insult i just mean it as a describing word because she likes fucking

Baji: i've known her longer than you and she's been fucking since she knew what the thing was

Mikey: i probably should have addressed that as an older brother or something

Mikey: yk, cause i take care of my family

Baji: now she takes care of you with your chronically depressed ass

Mikey: 😒

Kazutora: is Emma also traumatized? like the opposite of Draken?

Mikey: wait should i ask?? her mom did abandon her and she did grow up without a father figure so like maybe i should talk to her

Smiley: you didn't have to dish out her problems like that 💀

Baji: she's got the Sano slut genes because wasn't Shinichiro falling in love with different people everyday? then your dad was impregnating people all the time. skipped Mikey tho

Draken: not everything is trauma related. also Emma just likes sex. it's not a huge deal breaker and if it was she would tell me and we'd talk about it

Mikey: what about having kids?

Draken: stop asking me this shit we'll do that when we're ready

Smiley: it's crazy how Draken is one of the healthiest people here. always reacting sensibly to situations and dealing with his trauma normally. he's such a good guy. hate him

Draken: love you too

Mikey: did he deal with it all that healthily if he beats people to a pulp most of the time

Draken: i stopped doing that

Baji: why though, you were an actual unit

Baji: wasted talent. i still beat people up

Draken: Emma said to

Mikey: fair

Smiley: Mitsuya could be on Draken's level too but something went wrong along the way cause he's a boy liker

Mitsuya: 🖕

[dmny25]

I have this angsty zosan future fic living rent free in my head that I will never write where some time in the future, after Luffy is pirate king, after Sanji finds the All Blue, after Zoro becomes the World's Strongest Swordsman, he and Sanji are settled down and married and have a daughter (Sora, Kuina, Aoi, w/e). Things seem good but then Sanji's Germa genes start getting activated. At first, Zoro tries to hold out hope but he can't help but notice Sanji's quality control slipping at his restaurant, he doesn't play with their daughter or spend time with her like he used to, he doesn't argue affectionately with Zeff anymore and he doesn't give over the top compliments to women anymore. The straw that breaks the camel's back is Sanji punching a rowdy customer and physically throwing him and his female date out. After a lot of deliberation, Zoro realizes he has to keep his promise to kill Sanji. Zeff takes their daughter out and the two have a huge death match. Their daughter, suspicious of it all, returns in time to see Sanji kill Zoro. Sanji ends up leaving and going to Germa.

The Straw Hats try to get Sanji back to himself but are unable to do so as Stealth Black takes over.

Zeff takes over raising Zosan's daughter, but none of the adults are really able to explain to her why her beloved Papa killed her Tousan. She grows more and more resentful and reaches the conclusion that the thing parading around in her Papa's body isn't Sanji. It killed her parents and so she swears vengeance for their deaths and even runs away to Mihawk to train in order to one day kill Vinsmoke Sanji.

[inside-lees-mind]

I've been so obsessed with Rock Lee for the last few months after getting into Naruto and I'm so glad someone's taking requests for my favourite ninja! If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to see you write Rock Lee helping reader stretch before a work out but since reader isn't really flexible or is just not all that active, they make a lot of, ahem, suggestive noises while stretching. Love your work, can't wait to see more!!

Rock Lee Helping Reader Stretch

Warnings: Suggestive, borderline NSFW. It’s implied.

Basically: You make noises while stretching that Rock Lee’s horny brain can’t ignore.

Recently, your joints and muscles have been killing you. Maybe your half ass stretching routine wasn’t doing the trick, you figured. Even though you knew change had to happen, you just didn’t know how to stretch your muscles out properly for the extensive training you do with Lee.

Usually he shows up earlier than you, so you don’t see him stretching, but you know he’s keen on making sure he stretches properly so he’s probably stretching for a while beforehand. So you decide to show up 40 minutes before you usually would, seeing him just now setting up to stretch and warmup.

He’d clearly been out jogging prior to this. And in your mind, you know he’s done a runners stretch so isn’t that enough? Why does he need to stretch again? (Him and Gai would both scream at you for this way of thinking)

“Hi Lee.” You greet him with a small smile, already exhausted from the training you haven’t even started just by looking at his energetic, muscular self. Somewhere in your mind, you’ve managed to convince yourself that you’re winded from the walk to the training grounds, and that Lee is not the reason your breath catches in your throat.

You’ve seen him like this for so long, I mean, you’re on the same team as him now. The only 4 person squad, 5 if you count Gai sensei. You’re so close to all of them, and that’s been normal. Perfectly normal. But recently, your eyes linger on Lee just a little too long.

“Oh hey y/n! I didn’t see you there!” He smiles, the white of his teeth flashing at you in the sun line. Sometimes you wonder how he’s so positive, but then again, you don’t mind it so much anymore. He literally glows though, you swear on it.

“Can I ask you a favor?” You ask, suddenly a little nervous. Your palms are sweating. You try to ignore that.

“Of course! What is it that you want to ask?” He asks, enthusiastically. His smile is almost infectious.

“My joints and muscles ‘n shit are killing me. Can you help me stretch? I don’t know what I’m doing wrong…” You move your neck like you’re trying to get out a knot or something.

Lee agrees, and decides to start simple. He has you put your arms behind your back, your hands joined together, and tells you to stretch them back as far as you can. Then do the same with the front.

After that, he has you do a similar thing with your hands joined over your head before moving down to the ground to stretch out your upper body best. Then your shoulders, elbows, and neck all separately. Then he has you get on the ground to stretch out your back.

And maybe he didn’t think too much about the position, but have you stretch your back up and lower yourself down also meant your ass was up in the air as you arched your back. You realize how embarassing the position is, and what you don’t notice is the way his cheeks flush and he pries his eyes away from your body.

“U-uh great! Let’s do legs!” He says rather quickly, helping you to get into as low of a splits position that you can, before having you lean forward. To get the best stretch, he pushes down on your body a tiny bit. And before you can stop yourself, you let out a moan.

His hands still against your back, and your eyes go wide as you freeze too. Soon you feel him move away, telling you to switch sides. And he repeats the same thing on this side. Much to your disdain, an even louder moan accidentally slips from your mouth. Curse yourself for not being able to be quiet at a time like this.

When you finally sit back up, he’s staring at you. You can’t help but gulp down any salvia you had in your mouth. Then you notice the way his hands are covering the front of his pants. When he notices where your eyes shifted, his blush intensifies and he starts stammering.

“I-I am so sorry! I didn’t mean— you were just—“ you cut his rambling off with a kiss, crawling over closer to him. You situate yourself on his lap, his hands darting out for your hips. The kiss doesn’t break until you’re both desperate for more air than you can get with your mouths connected. Before your mutual panting even halts, he smashes his lips back onto your desperately. And at this point, he’s boldly getting handsy.

You can feel the desperation and lust through his finger tips and they find their way around your body. Any curve, dip, anything, he feels for it. And soon he’s laying back on the grass, panting as a string of saliva connects the both of you even as you part.

The look in his eyes told you that what was about to happen at these training grounds should not happen at the training grounds. Your eyes told him you didn’t care the least about that, however.

[thefangirlfever]

dbf! Miguel O'hara x reader (headcanons)

Notes: I've been inspired ya'll...

•dbf! Miguel who after meeting you starts caring a bit more about his appearance. It's small changes like his hair, his perfume... but it helps him feeling more confident when he goes talk to you. He is very aware of what he would look like standing next to you, an old man who is just ridiculous for even thinking about you the way he does. Even if he tried to be more confident about all of this, he can't help himself. He feels like a teenager again, waiting at your front door while stroking his hair in a nervous way, hoping you won't notice the creases around his eyes or the salt and pepper hair against his temples.

•dbf! Miguel who picks you up when he sees you walking back home with your arms filled with groceries bags. He is trying to make small talk during your ride back home but he can't look you in the eyes because he knows he would be too weak to hold your gaze. Especially when the Sun hits your eyes in a certain way and makes them glow as if they were filled with golden chunks.

•Of course he does that elbow thing when he parks his car in front of your house, which makes his hand brush against your shoulder.

•dbf! Miguel who always brings leftover to your sick father. But since you moved back in town, he brings food more often and at some point you end up suspecting that he is actively making dishes to bring to your house and not just keeping the leftovers.

•You always give him his Tupperware (clean and empty) with a sticky note on top. And he makes sure to keep every single notes you gave to him.

•At some point the two of you communicate only via those sticky notes. If you're not home when he leaves the dishes, you can be sure to find one bright note scribbled with his thin, and very elegant, letters.

•It's an habit for him to stay and have dinner with your father and you at least once a week. Miguel always helps you making the dinner and if he can't, he always brings something.

•You're not the best cook in town but at least you're trying and you manage to do something. He is very patient when helping you cooking but he eilk probably never stop laughing thinking about that time you tried to do a roux.

•After every one of these dinners, he stays with your dad. They usually like playing cards or things like this. When you're too tired and can't play with them anymore, you leave for your room kissing your father good night but stopping in front of Miguel, not knowing exactly what you were about to do.

•The two of you look at each other without moving when you finally tell him good night, and he swears he could listen to you saying this to him every night and he wouldn't see any problem in this. His eyes follow you while you go up the stairs, unto that unknown territory of the house where he never went. And for a second, he feels his heart pounding in his chest, while you disappear into the shadows of the stairs, wondering what would happen if one day he followed you...

==============================================

I feel like I'm giving you crumbs right now but I want to take more time writing more about the story... So, here are a few ideas I got ! Hope you liked it!

[ddejavvu]

could you do a spencer x daughter reader comfort for grade stress? my grades are a lot lower than normal and i feel awful :(

you’re an amazing writer much love <3

'$20 and a completely unabridged gossip session about my love life if you can hack into my school's system and change my grades...'

'Baby genius!' Penelope scolds, in response to what you personally believe was a very fair and enticing offer, 'I can't! I don't do bad hacking anymore, I only do the good kind :)'

'It would be good for me to not have these grades.' You type back, smearing an exasperated hand over your face. You swear you nearly drag your skin right off, and you consider attempting to do so, maybe you wouldn't have to go to school anymore if you were just a skeleton-face.

'I'm sure you're freaking out over nothing, wonder baby,' Penelope responds, full of all of her usual optimism that sickens you now, 'You of all people don't need to be worrying about your grades.'

She's wrong. Now you do, now your grades have inexplicably taken a nosedive, dropping into uncharted territory. With a father that attended college at the ripe age of twelve, you feel severely disappointing. You're not following in his footsteps, you've lost the outline of his sneakers and you're traipsing through mud trying to locate them aagin.

You don't bother responding; you're not even sure what you'd say. You don't even consider the ramifications of her saying no to your scheme, being that the world's biggest gossip knows you're upset about your grades and she's not bound to confidentiality by any suspicious illegal activity.

Which means that when your dad gets home, he heads straight for your room.

"Hi, angel," Spencer leans down to hug you over the back of your desk chair, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. It's the same kiss he's planted on you every day since you came into the world, "Penelope said you're having school trouble?"

Your stomach drops and you groan, "That snitch."

"Hey!' Spencer scoffs, "She's the one that always spoils your birthday presents 'cause you give her puppy eyes. You use her poor secret-keeping abilities to your benefit just as much as the rest of us."

"It's nothing," You're still glancing blankly at your homework, keeping your eyes away from your dad so that you don't have to see his face. You try to brush him off before he directly asks what your grades are, "I'm just having a bad week or something."

"A bad week doesn't impact your grades that much," Spencer hums suspiciously, "And your teacher doesn't even put in grades until the week after you submit assignments, so this week being bad wouldn't have changed your grade yet. What's really going on?"

"I don't know," You confess, and you're glad he understands it's the truth and not another half-hearted excuse. He catches the wavering in your voice and knows you're being honest with him, and he can practically feel the cartoonish crack running down his heart, splitting it in two.

"Alright," He soothes, setting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing at its tense muscles lightly, "We'll figure it out. I'll help you, okay?"

"I don't want your help," You lament, tears stinging painfully at your eyes, "You- you know everything, and I don't want to hear how many times you have to correct me. I don't want to see what I should be while being reminded that I'm not."

There's a long bout of silence where your dad's hand lingers on your shoulder, the only reminder that he's still there. It's like he's stopped breathing altogether, air caught in his throat as his brain tries coming up with a solution.

"I don't want you to be like me." He confesses, and the tears stay in place at the corners of your eyes, waiting for a cue to fall.

"I'm... It was hard growing up and being different. It's hard now being different. Morgan still scoffs whenever I talk too much, and we've been friends for years. JJ cuts me off every time I go on a tangent. People aren't nice to anyone who's different."

"But that doesn't matter," You whimper, hands flying to your face to push against your eyelids like you could squeeze your tears back inside, "You aced classes, you got into college super young, you got a high profile job, you're successful, and-"

"-and if I had to choose one thing about my life to carry over into the next, none of those would be it." Your dad cuts you off, moving to pry your hands away from your eyes. He smooths his thumbs over your eyelids, softening the sting from your aggressive touches.

"Y/N," He starts, honey-colored eyes dripping with love as he stares at you from his spot perched on your bed, "All the knowledge in the world doesn't make you happy. Knowing what chemicals are attributed to love doesn't mean you feel it. Knowing what poets have written about love doesn't mean you get to experience it for yourself. I don't want you to know everything," He explains, drying a tear with the cuff of his shirt sleeve, "I want you to be happy, to be loved. And you are smart," He promises, "-just because you don't understand the material you're getting, or you aren't doing your homework, or you're overloaded with assignments so that your grades drop doesn't mean you're not smart."

"Dad," Your face crumples, your eyes squeezing shut tight as tears drip from their corners. He guides you into his embrace with a hand on the back of your head and you let him control where your weight lands, slumping into his stomach pitifully.

He rubs down your back with his free hand, letting the one shelter your face against his button-up.

"I love you," He murmurs, and you can feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest. You press your ear into it, so your brain soaks up the words, "Even if you're having trouble memorizing the..." He peers down at your paper, "-amendments to the Constitution. Okay, well, you really should know those. We'll work on it, honey."

"Okay," You can't help the weak laugh that shakes your shoulders at his reaction, and he smiles sweetly down at you when you break away, not an ounce of judgement in his eyes that are twinkling with fondness instead.

"Now," He pats your back, straightening up from where he'd been slightly hunched over to rub soothing circles into the fabric of your shirt, "Let's talk about how you're encouraging Penelope to commit cyber crimes for you."

"Uh," You grimace, glancing back quickly at your revision sheet, "I plead the... fifth?"

"That's-" Spencer looks away, biting his lip to conceal his laugh, "That's good. That's bad, don't do that. But that's good. You know number five. That's a start."

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 14: A Portrait of Exhaustion

Screenshot Credit: @neverscreens

Bearblr Promptober Day 14: Somnophilia (Sub: Sleeping)

Summary: Carmy can't sleep after his panic attack, but his girlfriend can't sleep alone. She's more convincing than he is.

Warnings: Swearing, mentioned panic attack (no active panic attack in this one), insomnia, sleepy bean fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, snuggling, Carmy comforting reader, she/her pronouns, fluff.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

This is a two-parter. The first part is here.

Reblogs appreciated. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

14 Oct 2024

How the shit was I supposed to sleep after a panic attack?

It came in fits and bursts. Reality frayed apart between my apartment in Chicago, Michelle’s place in New York, The Bear and, Empire. I became aware of Darling’s attempts to soothe me several times, and, not wanting to plague her with awful sleep after such a long shift—and incoming work the next day—I crawled out of bed. Shuffled to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, to push away the roiling memories of that broiling fucking kitchen. I was in Chicago, dammit. Chicago, my apartment.

My own reflection looked more dead than alive.

I was pale as shit. Maybe even a little green. The shadows around and under my eyes were deeper, had a blue or purple tone to them, made the blue in my eyes look dull, like it’d been through the wash ten too many times. Fuck, my hair was a mess. It didn’t even look curly anymore, it just looked fried. What did Darling say at the pumpkin patch? Crispy? Yeah, it looked crispy, wiry, reminiscent of a frayed line of twine or fucking pork floss. Might not have felt like it, but I needed some fucking sleep.

To the couch, then.

Terrible idea with a bad back anyway, but even worse when the only thing asserting any presence of reality was Darling’s hand between my shoulder blades. My stomach turned over repeatedly as I failed to fall into unconsciousness. I was both too sweaty and too cold at the same time, there was this strange burning sensation on my chest—bit like a bee sting, kept rubbing at it through my tank top. I’d drifted off a thousand times on that same couch over the last year-ish, but this time, I couldn’t find any way to be comfortable. First, it was my back, then the edge of the couch cushion digging into the very top of my hip, then my shoulder felt crunched up, then the pillow put my neck at a weird angle. The bedroom door creaked.

“Carmy?” she said from the hallway.

Well, now I just felt like an asshole for waking her up.

“Couch,” I croaked.

“Come back to bed.” She whined it. She was frustrated.

I thought about how I would convince her to go back to sleep without me. I could say I was wired. It wasn’t false—sleep was so far away I’d need a fucking map and compass to find it—but then, she’d just try to soothe me. Fucking hell, I get that I’m a fucking disaster, but do you have to burn yourself out over me? For what purpose? I feel shitty enough as a human as-is, I don’t need a fucking caretaker running herself into the ground on top of it.

“Come back to bed; I’m freezing.”

In retrospect, I find it both funny and intensely frustrating how fast I leapt off the couch and skittered to her after she said that. I’m over here thinking about how I don’t need a fucking caretaker, yet my girl mumbles once that she’s cold, and I completely forget every-fucking-thing happening with me because I gotta go take care of her. I have to make sure she’s okay, because if I do that, then I don’t have to think about any of my problems.

I’m a fucking hypocrite.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m coming.” I rounded the hallway to see her slumped against the bedroom doorframe, a portrait of exhaustion in every sense of the word. Her knees were knocked together, foot toe-down and pressed into the rug to stretch the muscles in front of her shin, her shoulders were hunched, her arms hung limp at her sides. Her hair was in her face—almost completely obscuring it—and her eyes were closed. She swayed on the spot, and I darted forward to catch her.

“Woah, woah, hey! Hey.” She half-righted herself, half-leaned into me, resting her forehead against the crook of my neck. Her nose was cold. “Shit, you really are freezing…”

“Fuckin’… landlords…” She reached for the bedroom door for some reason. I don’t know, instinct to close it or something. I swung it shut and set her down on the bed. Swept her hair out of her face.

“Sorry, I kept waking you up. I just-I just wanted you to get some good rest.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the space heater right now,” she pouted.

Something twisted in my stomach. Fucking landlords. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”

She scooted back in bed to make room for me, patted the pillow. “And it scares me when you disappear like that.”

Scared her?

I crawled into bed, tucked her head under my chin, hooked her leg over my hip so I could rub her shin. Her cold little nose pressed against my skin as she kissed my collarbone. I tucked her arms between us to help her warm back up. Gathered the blanket up around her tighter.

“This is so comfy,” she mumbled, tightening her leg around me.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, it is.”

“No leaving again, please, sweetheart?”

I nodded. “Okay. Yeah, no leaving again. Why-why does it scare you when I go?”

She yawned again. “Sometimes, I have to remind myself that you’re real.”

Huh? “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I love you so much that you don’t feel real. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m going to wake up, and all of this will have been a dream.”

It must’ve been because I was still fried from freaking out—I don’t know. I can’t know. I won’t know. But whatever the reason, I asked, “Why do you love me?”

What kind of fucking question is that? Who asks that? And why would you ask that to someone whose mind is going numb from sheer fucking exhaustion? She should’ve told me to shut the fuck up and go to sleep, I’ll be honest, it’s what I fucking deserved. But no. No. She innocently delivered the kind of silent devastation that only words whispered into your skin when you’re seconds from shattering can. Her words didn’t hit me like a bullet to the heart, knife to the back, blow to the head, or a freight train, a semi, or a pickup truck. No, they sunk into my skin like a needle, only stinging for a fraction of a second before sleep mercy-killed me for the rest of the night. Left no marks the next day or the day after or the day after but had planted something deep in my soul that would fester, macerate, unearth gaping, open wounds in need of debridement and suturing. Darling didn’t know it yet—I didn’t know it yet—but she’d signed my death warrant with those words.

“What’s not to love?”

What’s not to love?

I change my mind about God. He does exist. And he’s a sadist.

[myfandomrealitea]

That post you made about Harry Potter and how to not financially support and fund the franchise and put more money in Joanne's pockets felt like a lie because I swear I got the impression that even that wasn't allowed when the whole thing started

To be clear; I stopped. Completely. I compartmentalized it all and just stopped interacting with anything Harry Potter online whatsoever. But I always wished it would be fine to still be able to do certain fandom things without supporting her, but people were saying that even using the tag or reading the fanfiction or making fanart was still supporting the ip and not letting it die completely as a topic on the internet was indirectly putting money in her pockets.

It wasn't until I came across a post from a queer woman from somewhere in the global south with heavy OCD and intrusive thoughts or something like that, commenting on how hostile of a thing it became for someone of her affliction; the way people were treating it like do or die. Pointing out that no matter how much trans people and allys cut off their support of her, she has other large means of income that we won't be able to touch, and there will still always be transphobic homophobic Harry Potter fans that will continue to support her actively, putting that money in her pockets. Another thing she mentioned was the treatment of Harry Potter and Joannes bigotry in contrast to the treatment of FNAF and the creators bigotry. And lastly something about the USAmericanized nature of it? I don't really remember that part but I think I understood it at the time I read it (maybe it was something about all the other countries the IP is popular in who are probably more conservative and unaware or caring of the issues with her who will still put money in her pockets, or maybe it was something about American fans fixating and posing the support of her as the ultimate battlefield of Trans Rights to other queer and trans individuals trying to be quiet fans who are facing Much Worse in their countries)

Anyways after that I briefly started reading ao3 fanfic again, just put a filter for anything before 2019 or so, and then my interest more gently fizzled out.

I can't remember what my point is anymore, maybe just to bring these arguments to your attention(also I am not arguing against the financial boycott or ending of support for this woman through her ip).

Harry Potter will never stop earning money. That's just the flat reality of it; I mean, look at the likes of Elvis and the original Sherlock Holmes books and every other 'dead' media that's still earning money. Short of making Harry Potter an illegal piece of media, yes, there will still always be a number of people giving her money.

The goal is to give her less money. To turn Harry Potter from a prominent, profitable cashcow into a defunct piece of media that only select groups are still clinging to. To make it so that JK Rowling has to choose between paying her bills and funding anti-trans movements.

When something stops bringing in a certain amount of profit, studios start looking elsewhere. When a cashcow starts drying up, they stop trying to milk it as hard. Which in turn means less productions for JK Rowling to collect her pocketmoney from.

What would you rather; JK Rowling getting $100,000 or JK Rowling only getting $10,000?

Something is better than nothing. Damage reduction is better than open exposure. If everyone just rolled over and gave up because "things will keep happening anyway" the world will literally be a rancid, fetid wasteland of bigotry and violence.

I'd much rather watch JK Rowling fizzle out into a bitter old wench sustained only by the dogged support of other stubborn bigots than watch people willingly disregard and condone bigotry because its "easier" and "she'll be a bigot anyway."

I'd much rather JK Rowling only have $10,000 to donate to shitty movements over $72,000. Shitty movements can do a lot less with a lot less money.

[otomiyaa]

Gojo x Ticklish Reader

Romantic + 34. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Requested by ??? for my 1K Followers Event🌻

I lost the ask??? idk what happened but I can't find it anymore, so to the person who requested this, I hope you see it 😂

You didn't see them, but you basically could feel them. The longer you noticed it, the more nervous and tingly you felt, to the point you could hardly concentrate on the cake you were baking.

"Toru-dear. Why are you looking at me like that?" you finally said when you tried to measure the ingredients for the third time, but got distracted again by those piercing eyes on you.

Those beautiful eyes were covered right now, but having been his lover for quite a while now, you knew exactly when he was looking at you, and what a certain look could mean, even without seeing his eyes.

And although the timing seemed a little strange, you could swear he was having the typical I'm-gonna-tickle-ya-look right now. Not that you were going to say that out loud of course.

"Like what, sweetie? You mean this?" Gojo pointed to himself. "The I'm-gonna-tickle-ya-look?"

WAH. Well, you were correct. But what!!!

You gulped and crossed your arms. "H-huh?! I'm baking you a cake, so why exactly would you give me that look right now?" you asked, trying to sound strict, but your voice already trembled a little in anticipation. If he wanted to tickle you, you knew he was going to. Gojo shrugged.

"You're baking me a cake indeed, and I'm thankful. I want to tickle you for it."

Your eyes widened and you slowly turned back around, grabbing the bowl with flour.

"W-well, that's not how you thank me now babe. Besides, it'll be inconvenient. How about a kiss? Or if you must, at least wait until after the cake is- WAH!" You dropped the flour in surprise when Gojo suddenly stood up and approached you. You turned and tried to run, but he already caught you in his arms. His fingers immediately went after your sides, and you squealed and struggled hysterically.

"Wahahaha you're so- aaahahahah! Nohoho!" you howled, shaking and dancing in his arms. Gojo easily held you tightly against him while wiggling his fingers against your ticklish spots, and he leaned in and muttered in your ear:

"I'm so what? Irresistible? Sweet? Funny? I guess we have that in common sweetie. I just can't help it. I have to tickle you."

Blushing like crazy, you slid to the floor when he allowed you to. There you lay in the little puddle of flour and rolled from side to side, getting it all over you. Gojo laughed at the comedy of that, and he tickled your neck fondly.

"I gotta remember this. You look adorable now," he teased while his fingers continued to absolutely wreck you. He was pure evil.

"THAHa-that's ihihit! N-no mohohore cahahake for youhou!" you cried, but you should've known that wasn't going to stop him. In fact...

"EEEHEHE!" you shrieked when he grabbed both your arms. He pinned them over your head and smirked down at you. With his free hand he lifted his eye cover slightly, showing you those beautiful eyes that sparkled with mischief.

"Thankful tickling first, then I'll still get my cake. Have we got a deal?"

Thankful tickling. Pfft. This man was crazy, but he was also your boyfriend, and this evil boyfriend knew he could bully you with the craziest things and get away with, such as tickling your armpit without mercy while still pinning your arms down.

Well damn!

You weren't sure about that deal, but you definitely wanted to surrender already.

"AAHAH! Nonono BAHAHABY-Plehehease! Wahah stah-aaaaaahh!" You kicked your legs and laughed for your life. He was absolutely merciless!

"Stohohop! I cahahan't breheheathe!"

Gojo needed a little more convincing than the average probably would, it happened everytime he tickled you, and you knew that.

Luckily he finally let you go, a little sooner than usual because he probably wanted to let you continue your baking activities, and you gasped and wheezed tiredly.

"You're bruhuhutal," you giggled, still unable to stop laughing even when the tickling had stopped.

Gojo smiled and leaned in to kiss you. "Gojo Brutal Satoru is the name sweetie."

He was so silly and random, and you couldn't help but love him for it. You ran your hand through his hair and kissed him back. It didn't say with just one kiss. Both of you were covered in flour by the time you pulled apart from a blissful make-out session.

"So about that cake..." Gojo muttered, peppering your neck with slightly ticklish kisses. You giggled and nodded.

"I'll mahahake it, if you let me go now," you said, even though your own arms were still wrapped around his neck. It was hard for you too to just let go of him.

Gojo chuckled and went back to kissing your lips. "Oh I will. Very very soon..."

And you were sure he would, but not after another round of lovely kisses!

[st4rfckerz]

i feel like the jedi code is such a major cock block.

MDNI 18+

coruscant was beautiful, but very congested. despite the buildings rising high and blocking out the sky, it was still full of people and activity. for the past week you and anakin have been stationed on coruscant to investigate rumors of separatist activity on the planet. you have worked closely over the last year and have become very close.

both of you seemed to be clearly attracted to one another, but neither one of you had ever established it. you were afraid of losing the friendship you guys had built. though the attraction was palpable, the fear of rejection was not and so neither one of you acted on the feelings. instead, you just decided to continue on as friends, though the flirting was not exactly subtle.

but today was different, the tension was at an all time high and you knew he could feel it too. which is why after a long day of subtle teasing and lingering glances, anakin forcefully pulled you into a dingy apartment, the sound of a door slamming shut echoing in the small, intimate space.

without hesitation, he pushes you onto the worn-out couch. the fabric creaks beneath both of your weight as the springs adjust to the sudden impact. his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, his touch electrifying your skin. the air becomes heavy with anticipation as his lips crush against yours, his hungry kiss conveying just how much he's been needing you all day.

you can feel his hard, muscular body pressing against you, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. anakin's hands explore every curve and contour of your body, reveling in the softness beneath his fingertips.

"i can't take it anymore," low growl of desire rumbles in his throat as his hands wander further, finding their way beneath your clothing. "i need you. now."

the sweet haze of pleasure begins to recede, a sudden surge of realization washes over you. with a subtle shift in your body, you gently push against anakin's chest, creating a momentary pause in your passionate connection.

"ani, wait," you speak against his lips, your voice filled with hesitation. your attempt to pause for a moment only fuels anakin's relentless passion. you can feel the heat building inside you once again, the flickers of arousal reigniting with each insistent touch of his lips against yours.

"the code, we can't-" you try to speak again. anakin's eyes meet yours, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. you swear you can see the gears turning in his head. he understands the weight of the code and the responsibilities that come with it, but he's always had a knack for finding loopholes, a way to bend the rules without completely breaking them.

"take off your clothes." you follow his command, slowly removing each piece of clothing with deliberate intent. the air thickens with an electric charge as your bare skin is exposed to the dimly lit room, casting sensual shadows upon your form.

anakin watches you intently, taking in every moment, every inch of your body revealed. his eyes hunger for you, filled with an intensity that sets your pulse racing. he strips off his own garments, revealing the sculpted contours of his muscular physique, further igniting your desire. his hands trail down to his hardened cock standing proudly against his abdomen.

"we're not breaking the code if we're not touching each other, right?" anakin's voice rumbles with a raw intensity as he looks into your eyes, his desire unwavering. he leans back against the couch, his body exuding a magnetic energy.

"touch yourself angel." his words caress your senses, sending an electric jolt of anticipation through your body. you slowly let your hand descend, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as they come in contact with your heated skin. you were practically dripping for him, only anakin had this kind of effect on you.

you watch as anakin's hand wraps around his hardened length, goosebumps rise along his arms. the intensity in his gaze grows as he watches you caress your own sensitive clit, your touch sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

"there you go baby, you look so pretty." anakin purrs, his eyes droop low as he takes in the sight of your drooling pussy.

anakin's strokes quicken in response to your growing desire, his movements fueled by the sight and sound of your yearning. the room becomes an amalgamation of urgent gasps and the rhythmic sound of his hand moving over his velvety skin.

"i know what's been going on in that pretty little head of yours, you want my cock so bad don't you?" anakin’s eyes glimmer with adoration as he continues to stroke himself. his deep, melodic tone sends a tingle down your spine, heightening your arousal even further. you nod your head, muttering a quiet 'yes' . "i know baby, you'll get it soon."

your fingertips, slick with your arousal, slowly glide down your body until they reach your entrance. a loud whine escapes your lips as your fingers curl against your spongy, sweet spot. anakin's strokes become more frenzied, his breaths labored, as he inches closer to his release.

"gettin' close?" anakin asks. with a ragged breath, you nod again. the sensations of pleasure building within you, threatening to consume your senses.

"let go angel, i wanna see you cum." encouraged by his words, you feel your white hot orgasm flood throughout your body. your trembling thighs tightly clamp together and a loud, lewd moan tumes from your lips.

as you open your eyes, your gaze falls upon anakin. his movements have intensified, his hand moving fervently along his veiny shaft. your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes hungrily take in the sight before you. the strained expression on anakin's handsome face, the flexing of his biceps, all speak of an imminent release.

in a sudden, explosive moment, the tension snaps, and anakin's body tenses. his head tilts forward, a long, low moan escaping his lips as he finds his release. you watch, captivated, as his body pulses and trembles with the force of his pleasure, his cum painting his stomach in a testament to his intense release. the aftershocks of his orgasm subside and anakin's breathing gradually returns to normal. he looks at you with a gentle smile, his expression soft and affectionate.

"how you feelin' over there?" anakin speaks, his voice raspy and quiet. you return the same dopey smile that's plastered on his face

"good." you respond. you stand up to make your way to the bathroom, but anakin quickly lunges forward to capture your arm. a slick smile graces his lips as he slowly guides your fingers towards his mouth. with a tantalizing slowness, he takes your fingers between his lips, his tongue lapping and swirling around them. a quiet groan rumbles from his throat before he pops your digits out his mouth.

"go shower i'll be in there in a minute."