#I’d never write it but this making me so tempted to write this or a fables au

[screams-in-writing]

Fluff snippets again *yeets pillows at Mr. Puzzles with aggressive affection*

I’ve found I really like to write these, so here’s three more of them (1st is more of a one-shot):

16- needing their cuddles even though they have something else to do (1st pov)

I was about to break my promise to not drag Smg4 (or his crew) into another wonderfully wacky Puzzlevision adventure.

But oh, was I so very, very tempted to do it and face the consequences, but I held back such urges, knowing that such actions would more than likely ruin any progress I had made thus far. Any non-consenting participants in a show in my mind would surely not only upset you a great deal but would also destroy the tentative peace I’d made with Smg4 in particular. 

I knew I was on thin ice, and that everything I did was scrutinized with great prejudice. 

It chaffed, but I knew that such over the top precautions were a direct result of my previous actions, direct or by proxy. 

But one thing that I did not take well to was being told my ideas or plans were terrible and/or unoriginal. It took a lot of self-control I didn’t always have to be able to prevent myself from instantly lashing out in return. 

Calm. 

I had to be calm. 

I couldn’t let this latest…disagreement force me to break my promises. 

With great reluctance, I tuned back in to Smg4’s words as he lambasted me for the changes I’d made late last night to an episode script that, in my opinion, desperately needed it. 

Smg4 should be thanking me!

Why, I took time out of my day to help him when I didn’t have to! 

I was an expert on moving pictures! 

Why wouldn’t he value such feedback from one such as me, to help his ‘funny’ reach a wider audience!

…perhaps it shouldn’t have been made so last minute but I’d not heard of it being made until last night!

“I never told you that you could just change my episode plans!”

“Smg4?” At that, I finally cut in as smooth as could be. Seeing the unamused glare, I straighten by bow tie, acting as if I hadn’t just been practically scolded for the past ten minutes. “I believe that I made your episode’s script flow better for everyone involved. If it hadn’t been clear that those changes were needed, I wouldn’t have even bothered.”

“I also never gave you permission to even look at my episode scripts!” Smg4 shot back in exasperation. “What made to think you could just go on my office to snoop around in the first place?”

I was again distracted from listening to Smg4 when I saw that you, Boopkins and Tari gad just entered the castle. 

There. 

My possible escape from making another mistake that would more than likely ruin any credibility I had left, as well as completely shatter the minimal trust I’d since gained with Smg4 and his crew. 

With a swift motion, I ran away from Smg4 and  swooped in on you for a hug the moment the castle doors shut. 

“Whoa!” You laughed at my sudden, rather desperate need for a hug from you, and laughed even more as I was quick to bring you down to the floor with me. “Hello to you too.”

I wrapped my arms around you and even tangled our legs together, making my intention to begin an impromptu snuggling session right here on the floor in full view of anyone clear.

“Oh no you don’t!” Smg4 stomped over, waving the papers in his hand, exasperated. “Fix this script right now! Put it back to the way it was.”

“No.” I said simply in return, pressing my face into your shoulder to enjoy the static buildup from your clothing. “I refuse to get rid of an obvious improvement that you just refuse to see! It’s art! How can you not see that?”

Smg4 began to toss random items at me while Boopkins and Tari made themselves scarce to avoid getting drawn into the drama. 

How rude. 

Smg4 had to have seen that you were down on the floor with me, but seemed focused on getting me to ‘unfix’ his episode script. 

I covered you with my body to prevent anything from hitting you. In return, things bounced off the back of my head and upper back, to which I grumbled crossly at. It didn’t so much hurt as it was an irritant (and the flying projectiles did mean possible harm to you if I allowed anything to pass.

However, it had merely been a distraction as the arisen assault of pillows and other items gave way to Smg4 speaking in an eerily calm tone. 

“Mario, Mr. Puzzles took out the plate of spaghetti in an upcoming script and won’t change it back.”

The words made me freeze in place while you paused, then gave me what felt like a ‘sympathetic’ pat on the back.

Oh no.

“Give me back my spaghetti tv man!” Mario came out of nowhere to seize me by the ankles. 

I automatically clung to you in an effort to avoid being taken from you. But it was a useless endeavor with Mario involved, and you picking up on what was going on, which led you to letting go of me after patiently prying my arms off from the panicked hug I’d had you in. There was a brief look of betrayal on my face before it flickered into one of pleading desperation as I scrabbled my fingers into the floor beneath me uselessly. 

“Did Smg4 ask you to make changes to my script?” You asked, making some gesture at Mario to (somehow) make him pause his efforts in dragging me backward. 

“It needed the changes.” I said stiffly. Seeing your expectant expression, my digital eyes looked off to the side, technicolor smile a frown. “No, he didn’t ask.”

“Puzzles? Do you remember what we talked about last week?” You questioned curiously. 

“I…yes.” There wasn’t any way to defend myself in this situation because I did recall what you were hinting at. “Yes, I do.”

“You promised that you’d not make any changes to other people’s scripts without running it by that person first.” You told me, clarifying the specific conversation we’d had, as there had been more than one important one held.

“I recall.” I agreed, though I didn’t say aloud that I believed I could have gotten away with such an action in this case. If only Smg4 could just be made to see that I was very good at what I did, and that he could benefit from me collaborating with him. Or at the very least, allowed me to make tiny changes here and there to make things flow better, in order to offset the stupidity that might end up happening. Not seeing any way out, I fixed you with the most pathetic, despairing digital face I could manage.

“Oh, such cruel fate.” I mournfully began before I said your name. “How can you sit there and allow this to happen to me? I thought you said you loved me.” I lamented as dramatically as I could, while I clung to the open door to prolong my exit. “Farewell, my dear. I forgive you for leaving me to a fate I brought upon myself. Remember me fondly when you watch television or a movie, as I fear I may not survive this terrible soon-to-be act of being forced into undoing all my beautifully done and very much necessary handiwork.” 

I made certain to keep my screen facing you in order to let you knew I was merely teasing, and not attempting to make you feel guilty in any way, shape or form. 

It seemed you understood when I peeked over to you. 

“It’s not going to take all day, Mr. Puzzles. It’s just an episode script. Not a movie.” Smg4 shoved one of Puzzles’ gloved hands off of the open office door. That would be a much bigger problem and-“ 

“About that…” I shoot a guilty look your way, and drop my gaze at your disappointment. “I may have…done an overhaul to the entire thing?” I shrink behind the open door, forgetting Mario still held me by the ankles. I partially closed the door myself at the blank look on Smg4’s expression as he slowly took out his phone and made a call while continuing to stare at me. 

Before I knew it, I had Mario dragging me back across the floor of the main area of the castle to its front doors, which had just opened. 

Smg3 was waiting there, looking disgruntled at being called away from his cafe, until he laid eyes on me and my pathetic attempts to scramble away. 

“What’s this all about, scrub?” Smg3 asked, somewhat dismissively, despite the eager look in his red eyes. “You finally kicking out the tv freak?”

Smg4 emerged from his office to wordlessly hold out a larger stack of papers.   

“What?” Smg3 scoffed at the lack of words but took the paper to look it over anyway. Then a little quicker as his expression went from feigned disinterest to exasperation as he glanced down at me. “Are you stupid?”

“Maybe more misguided.” You called from where you’d moved to peer out the doors as Mario just tugged me outside. 

I eagerly perked up at your defense of me, until you spoke again. 

“But if that’s a movie script and he made a lot of changes? Maybe foolish optimism.”

“Why do you betray me so?” I said your name in a dramatic fashion as I dug my fingers into the ground to try to prevent the inevitable. 

“You asked me for advice and you decided to not follow it.” You rightfully pointed out. 

I hung my head, unable to argue the point while I was dragged across the showgrounds to 3’s cafe to ‘fix’ my own changes to an episode script and a whole movie.

17- resting head in their lap (2nd pov)

After an exciting day, you were ready to wind down for the night. 

With a tired groan, you crashed hard on the sofa in the house you shared with Mr. Puzzles at the edge of the showgrounds. 

It wasn’t an hour later that Puzzles returned home too, presumably done with his own work for the day. 

The tv headed man paused alongside the sofa to lean over, a soft smile on his screen. He lightly ran his fingers through your hair with a barely audible greeting, before he reluctantly stepped away for a short time. 

The bedroom, most likely. 

When Mr. Puzzles reentered the living room, you find that your guess is right. The man had come back with a change of clothes; soft, rather sleek and elegant pants and an even softer-looking sweater.

You stared at him, then sleepily reached out with your arms, making grabby-hands at the tv headed man, whose face flickered to an amused, if still soft, expression.

You only realized Mr. Puzzles’ plan when he approached the sofa and held your stretched out arms by forearms to help you to sit upright. When you stared in a confused manner, Puzzles’ technicolor smile grew. Humming softly, he sat down on the sofa before he lowered you carefully down to settle your head on his lap. 

You were a-okay with this plan, sighing happily  as Mr. Puzzles as he began to gently thread his fingers through your hair and along your scalp. 

The sensation of his fingers felt different today. 

You belatedly realize that Puzzles had taken his gloves off at some point, likely when he’s gone to change clothes. 

It was nice. 

You liked the touch of his robotic fingers scritching along your head and through hair with soft metallic-sounding clicks. 

Maybe he needed to oil up the joints? Could Mr. Puzzles even do that with the covering he had over those robotic fingers? Had you just never heard the sound his fingers made with the gloves off?

Or maybe you were sleepier than you realized. 

You definitely were quick to snuggle closer to wrap your right arm around Mr Puzzles’ lower back. This way, you could press your face into the tv headed man’s belly, feeling it quiver with silent mirth.

But Mr. Puzzles didn’t say anything. He only chuckled lowly in presumable endearment of the sight of you as he resumed to pet  through your hair. After a time, he moved on to your shoulders, slid his fingers down your upper back to middle, then repeated the gesture, each gentle motion of his hand drawing you closer to slumber. 

“Pleasant dreams, my dear.” Mr. Puzzles’ petting eventually slowed to a halt to lightly rest his hand against the back of your neck. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

18- leaning against them (2nd pov)

You were very pleased to be able to be able to have a whole entire week of vacation time, and Mr. Puzzles had been beyond delighted .that you were going to spend six of the seven days in his word. 

But the delight finished a little, as you’d had to make certain Puzzles understood that, while you planned to spend the majority of that time with him, you did have other plans in mind. 

Namely, exploring more of the world than just the showgrounds. 

This meant that, for some of the time you spent here, you’d be traveling with Smg1 and 2, for safety reasons. 

Smg3 & 4 could have helped, but, to put it politely, those two butt heads with one another at poor times, and it wouldn’t do for you to be in sudden danger and they didn’t notice until it was too late. 

Which was why, even if you weren’t exactly ‘spending time’ with. Mr Puzzles, you knew that he was going to more than likely follow at a distance. 

You don’t blame him for the worry. 

There was a reason you chose 1 and 2 as help, as once, a while back, you’d been hurt in this world before, and it had been clearly traumatic for him; you…actually didn’t recall to much of it, since it seemed your memory of the incident cut out when the accident occurred until you woke up and wondered why Puzzles was beside himself (almost hysterical) while a few others of Smg4’s group looked terribly upset. You felt that you’d have to ask at some point what exactly had happened…

“Hello.” Mr. Puzzles voice called out to you, breaking you out of your musings. The tv headed man joined you on the patio, and stood before where you were seated on the patio swing he’d found some time ago. “Fancy seeing you here, my delightful partner.” The tv headed man’s voice held a happy lilt as Puzzles leaned over, grasping one of your hands to hold up as he pressed the lower part of his screen to it. After leaving a lingering static zap of a kiss, Mr. Puzzles let go of your hand to sit down alongside you, his right leg bumping into your left. “Does this visit of yours perhaps include staying with me overnight a few times?”

“Hi.” You press into his side, feeling him happily wrap his right arm around your shoulders, while he to traced a few fingers down your arm to your elbow.  “I don’t know, what did I tell you over the phone?” A low chuckle, but no response, so you continued on. “Do you want to join me and Mario on an adventure in the middle of the night? Maybe we can go look for the watermelon man?” You asked in a joking manner, seizing Mr. Puzzles’ left hand with yours as his right twitched on your upper arm overthe plumber’s name.

“My dear…” Puzzles began, a low guttural dip in his voice as he leaned his head over to your level. But whatever he was about to say was cut off when you suddenly pressed the side of your head affectionately to his casing.

“Of course I’m going to stay overnight with my boyfriend.” You told him, sholding Mr. Puzzles’ hand tight while he turned his tv head to enthusiastically nuzzle you in return. 

“No leaving the window open.” Puzzles sighed, briefly halting his affections to let out a theatrical shudder, no doubt thinking of past incidents.

“No open windows.” You emphasize in agreement, giving his gloved hand a sympathetic squeeze as Mr. Puzzles resumed nuzzling your head. 

Neither of you wanted to wake up to Mario just…standing there again in your shared bedroom, just staring at the two of you sleeping, only for the Italian to BLJ out of there to avoid Mr. Puzzles lunging after him with incensed and scandalized noise. 

It had happened before. 

You secretly happened to have a short video sent to you by Mario of said incident, and saved it so that you could relieve it. 

Mario was weird, but he seemed to be invested in helping you compile photos and video clips of Mr. Puzzles (and yourself), which you were actually really happy to have with you when you couldn’t see the tv headed man for a longer period of time. 

[invisibleraven]

AU Headcanon's: Storybrooke/Enchanted Forest (OuaT)

Ooh I think I wrote a ficlet with Rulie as CaptainSwan, so I would probably go from there.

-Julie as the Saviour who saves a bunch of fairy tale characters through the power of love? What a great parallel!

-Ray and Rose as Charming and Snow, the embodiment of True Love, who will always find each other, yes please!

-Caleb would definitely be Rumplestiltskin/Mr. Gold, because I can see him gobbling that role up, plus all the suits would be right up his alley.

-Reggie would definitely be Hook, because of the leather and the swagger, and the family issues. It is the only time I would allow him to keep the facial hair.

-I don’t know who I would cast as Regina/The Evil Queen, but I think it might be fun for Tia Victoria who gets very misunderstood and doesn’t want the kingdom to fall into the gutter of life, might be a fun twist!

[museenkuss]

Spn blogs in my recs and they WILL NOT LEAVE.

[prythianpages]

A Light That Never Goes Out | Azriel

Azriel x Rhysand's sister (reader) | The aftermath of Azriel kissing you in front of everyone in the Court of Nightmares.

warnings: angry Rhys, angry High Lord, brief mention of Tamsand, mating bond snapping

word count: roughly 3K, around 3.5K if you read the bonus scene

a/n: This is a part two to this but can be read as a stand alone. I had fun writing this but I worry this sounded better in my head. I was tempted to turn this into a crack fic bc of this trending tiktok sound.

Azriel kisses you, consequences be damned. His hand slides from yours to the nape of your neck, drawing you closer. You kiss him back with the same intensity, years of longing and love pouring into this single moment. Your mind and thoughts tangling with his, the bond between you surging with emotion. Desire and hope. He’s still in disbelief that tonight was the first night he told you he loved you.

But in truth, Azriel had been telling you all along—in every glance, every touch, every kiss that held more than words ever could.

Azriel’s shadows recoil as the two of you pull apart, breathless. The Court of Nightmares had faded away, the two of you lost in each other. It’s just you and him, as it is meant to be…Until the distinctive footsteps of your father approaching echoes throughout the ballroom. Your eyes are wide, too many emotions swirling within their depths. 

But Azriel is relieved that regret is not one of them.

“Azriel.”

The High Lord’s voice is calm and collected but the fury flickering in his violet eyes is unmistakable. He stands no more than two feet away, the authority radiating from him as cold as it is absolute. Beside him, Rhysand watches, his expression unreadable. 

Your father lifts a hand, wisps of darkness and starlight spilling from his fingertips. The orchestra resumes under the silent command and driven by some invisible force, the guests resume dancing and drinking. As if nothing had happened. 

“Come with me,” your father says, his tone leaving no room for argument. His command is directed solely at Azriel. “I’d like to have a word.”

 You try to hold on to Azriel, to keep him close, but he slips his fingers from yours, bowing his head in quiet submission to your father. Without another word, he follows after him. And though his command had been directed solely at Azriel, the weight of the situation falls on the both of you. 

So you step forward, determined to follow after them. But just as you step outside the ballroom, Rhysand grasps your arm, forcing you to a stop.

“You stupid, foolish…,” his voice trails off in frustration. “What have you done?”

You spin on him, eyes flashing with anger as you yank your arm out of his hold. “What have I done? What about what have you done? Planning marriage alliances behind my back? Like I’m some pawn on your chessboard?”

Rhysand’s gaze softens for a brief moment. “Y/n, I–”

“No.” You interrupt sharply, starlight beginning to swirl from the fingertip you point at him. You don’t want to hear his excuse, whatever justification he thinks will make this right. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cassian and Mor making their way toward you, slipping through the dancing couples and out of the ballroom. 

The starlight seeping from your fingertip glows brighter, ready and poised to attack. However, it’s your words you speak into his mind that make the blow instead.

“You know, if you love that runt from Spring so much, why don’t you marry him yourself?”

Rhysand’s eyes widen, his brows furrowing as the meaning of your words hit him. The revelation that you know his secret. Where he’d sneak off to some nights. Why the scent of crisp rain and earth lingered on him when he’d return. You and Azriel had pieced it together after Cassian had mentioned that his book on Illyrian training and methods suddenly went missing. Given your secret, you and Azriel had kept that information to yourselves, waiting for the moment Rhysand would feel comfortable to tell you himself. 

It takes him a moment to regain his composure, for his gaze to harden again. His lips curl into a snarl–a warning.  “Y/n.”

He leans in forward but you take a step back and winnow away, only one thing on your mind. Finding Azriel.

**

The walk to the High Lord’s private office in the Court of Nightmares is silent but the sense of foreboding is nearly deafening. Azriel is tense, his shadows quiet and burrowing into his leathers. Too many possibilities and consequences storm through his mind, each one more damning than the last.

Does he regret kissing you in front of everyone? No.

That kiss was the first honest, uninhibited thing he’d allowed himself to do in years. It was freeing, exhilarating to be able to show everyone, especially the sons of Spring and Autumn that you were his and he was yours. He could face death for this—for touching the High Lord’s daughter. For kissing you so openly, so brazenly, in front of the entire court.

But why? Why should it be so wrong for him to love you? Because of his birth? The scars of his past that marked him as unworthy? He’s served loyally. Bled for this court.Tortured for this court. 

He’s watched from the shadows as lords and sons, full of false charm, have circled you like vultures, eyeing you as nothing more than a prize to be claimed.  And yet, when he—who knows you, who cherishes you—shows his love, it is considered a crime.

It isn’t fair. But Azriel has never been afforded fairness. 

The heavy doors to the High Lord's office swing open with a wave of his hand, and Azriel steps inside. The air is thick with tension, and every muscle in his body tightens. The High Lord gestures for him to sit, but Azriel bows his head, respectfully declining. Standing feels safer. Less vulnerable. He wonders if his refusal will anger the High Lord further, but the single shadow curling at his ear reports no rising fury.

He can feel the weight of the High Lord’s gaze—it’s heavy, scrutinizing, like the cold press of a blade against his skin. He keeps his eyes forward, even though his heart pounds in his chest. If there’s punishment to be had, Azriel will accept it.

The High Lord moves to his desk, positioned beneath an oculus, where moonlight spills through and dances across his features. He gazes up at the starlit sky as if searching for answers—or perhaps, waiting.

“Normally, this is the part where people like you should be begging for forgiveness, for a way to rectify your mistake.”

Azriel’s jaw tightens. “I haven’t made a mistake.”

“No?” The High Lord’s gaze snaps back to him, piercing as if he could peel away Azriel’s very skin to lay bare his soul. Azriel wonders, for a brief moment, if your daemati powers had been inherited from your father. Could the High Lord see into his mind, his thoughts? Have kept this power to himself all these years as a secret weapon? 

“You sound so sure of yourself,” the High Lord continues, his tone sharpening. “Tell me, how long has this... affair been going on?”

“For decades.” Azriel admits, knowing that there was no use in lying. The truth was already written in the way he kissed you, in the way he looked at you as you broke away from the kiss.

“For decades?” The High Lord repeats, his expression darkening, violet eyes narrowing. “You took my daughter’s first dance tonight of all nights.”

Azriel’s silence says everything. Both of them aware that Azriel had taken more than dances, more than a kiss.

“You’ve taken her innocence. You’ve ruined her…” The High Lord continues to seethe in that cool, unnerving tone.

Azriel’s fingers twitch at his sides, fighting the urge to reach for his dagger. Not to defend himself, but because it’s his only comfort in moments like these.

But this is not a battle to be fought with daggers or swords. This is a battle of love, of politics, of status. One he’s had no training for yet one he’s willing to fight. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fight against all odds.

“Whether she marries Spring or Autumn, she will become a lady of the highest esteem and forge a strong alliance with my court. Laden with all the riches and wonders only a High Lord can offer. What can you offer? You don’t even have a proper last name to give her, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel swallows thickly, the weight and shame of his low-born status crashing into him like the violent current of Illyria’s river. It feels like he’s sinking under it, drowning in it. He knows he can’t offer you what any son of Spring or Autumn could. He had reminded you of that—again and again. 

It’s as if you can feel his doubts creeping back in, the poison of guilt and worthlessness seeping in. Your presence—soft, warm, and steady—enters his mind. You bring forth the memory you had shared with him moments ago on the dance floor again.

“I can’t give you much,” his voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed against yours, his lips hovering just over your own. “But I can give you everything I have.”

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you had replied, the words echoing now in his mind, like an antidote to the venom of doubt. That’s all I’ll ever need, that’s all I’ll ever need, that’s all—

“I asked you a question, Azriel.” The High Lord’s sharp voice cut through the memory, yanking him back to the cold, oppressive reality of the Court of Nightmares. “What can you offer in exchange for my daughter?”

Azriel’s knees buckle beneath him before he even realizes it. He drops to the floor, bowing his head low. His shadows stir, swirling around him in a frenzy, urging him to stand. To stop him.

“My life.”

“Your life,” The High Lord muses. He lets out a dark, humorless chuckle. “You love my daughter enough to give your life for her?”

“Yes,” Azriel says, his voice firm and steady, even as his shadows coil tighter around his arms, trying to pull him back from this path. But he stays rooted to the floor. His life, his soul—it all belongs to you anyway. What was it worth, if not to protect you? To be yours?

The High Lord’s eyes narrow as he studies the swirling shadows, dark and restless, wrapping themselves around Azriel’s form. Shadowsingers are rare. Their power is precious. They can see and hear things others can’t. The only known living one kneels before him now. 

Despite his low born status, the Shadowsinger had also proved himself a formidable, Illyrian warrior. A Carynthian. It’s why he appointed Azriel as the Night Court’s spymaster.  

And now this powerful and strong male is offering his life.

To have a Shadowsinger as his spymaster is rare, a gift in itself. To have Azriel’s loyalty, his strength, his skills bound by magic for life. A weapon of mass destruction, at his beck and call. No room for betrayal, no worry over him leaving his court for another.

 All in exchange for your hand in marriage? 

Now, that sounds like a deal.

He lets out a thoughtful hum, voicing his consideration. He could give Azriel a title, raise him from his bastard status. At his will, darkness begins to rise from the floor. The power of the bargain hovers in the air between them, ready to etch itself into both their skins. 

 Azriel finally lifts his head, meeting the High Lord’s eyes with no fear. Only the light of determination. He is willing to give his life to your father if that’s what it takes to be by your side. 

The cloud of darkness begins to separate, its dark tendrils moving toward him, the binding magic poised to seal his fate, to chain him to this bargain for the rest of his life.

But before it can touch his skin, before the deal can be made, a bright light erupts in the room. A sharp hiss escapes the darkness as it recoils, retreating back into the shadows where it had come from. Azriel’s own shadows seem to shudder in relief.

Both Azriel and the High Lord’s heads snap toward the source of the light. You stand at the doors, your eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears, your hands glowing with pure, raging starlight.

“No!” you cry, the word trembling on your lips as you step forward, the glow around you growing even brighter. 

Your eyes lock with Azriel’s and something tightens in his chest, crawling up his rib cage. It’s sharp and breathtaking. His hand grabs at his chest and yours does the same. 

”He will not be your slave,” you say, turning to your father with the same determination flashing in your eyes. “There has to be another way.”

The High Lord’s features morph into a scowl. “Another way? My star, he is a bastard—”

“I love him!” 

That tightening in his chest finally snaps and Azriel’s breath catches. He feels that light in your eyes, perfectly reflecting the one in his. It sears into his soul, as fierce and unrelenting as the starlight glowing from your hands.

Your father doesn’t notice the shift in the air, the change in Azriel’s posture, in his chest. Or in yours.

“You think that means anything?” 

Azriel’s shadows whisper a warning into his ears, of an oncoming raging darkness. Different but similar to the High Lord’s. He barely hears his shadows, too focused on you, on the bond thrumming between you. His mind is consumed with you. 

Mate. Mate. Mate.

“You and mother—” you begin.

“Do you think your mother and I love each other?” The High Lord interrupts sharply, his voice cold and cutting. He breaks out into a laugh.

Azriel snaps out of his trance. Anger flares within him at the shock, the devastation that takes over your features. He watches as you shrink back slightly, his instincts roaring to protect you from any harm, whether verbal or otherwise. 

Because he’s your mate. Because he loves you.

 “You think I would marry your mother, a low born seamstress by choice? What your mother and I have is different. It’s complicated. A special bond.  One that gave me Rhysand and you and–”

A sound like thunder crashes through the room, reverberating off the stone walls as darkness swells in every corner. One moment, Azriel is on his knees. The next, he’s slamming into the cold marble floor, the force of Rhysand’s power pinning him down. Tendrils of Rhysand’s darkness coil around Azriel’s form, fighting with the shadows that instinctively rise to defend him.

“How long?” Rhysand's violet eyes blaze as they burn into Azriel.

“And I am beginning to think you both are nuisances to my existence rather than gifts...” The High Lord mutters followed by an exhausted sigh.

“How long have you been fucking my sister?” His words are a snarl as he slams Azriel harder into the floor, advancing toward him with clenched fists.

“Rhysand!” You let out a cry, rushing to the two males to separate them.

Your brother whips around, his anger igniting into something fiercer at the sight of you. “Stay out of this!” he snaps, his hand raising. He’s too angry, too heated. So much that he doesn't even notice the force of darkness he aims your way.

Rhysand’s magic hits you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. A choked gasp escapes as you stumble backward, struggling to keep your footing. A burst of bright sapphire explodes from each of Azriel’s siphons, a deep and low growl rumbling from his chest. He breaks free from Rhysand’s magic, standing to his feet. His wings flare behind him, shadows swirling like a storm.

The look in his hazel eyes is nothing short of feral, dark and ancient, a fierce and possessive glint that makes Rhysand falter and surprise flash across the High Lord’s features.

You fall to the ground with a thud, palms scraping against the stone and pain flaring in your hands. Rhysand turns toward you, the anger that had been simmering in his violet gaze immediately dissolving into guilt and regret. “Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t touch her.” Azriel growls, standing in between you and your brother, his shadows forming in an additional protective barrier. Some shadows flutter toward you, helping you stand and bringing you to Azriel’s side. Your hand instinctively seeks Azriel’s, fingers curling into his and you squeeze it, letting him know you’re alright. 

“By the Cauldron…” the High Lord’s voice comes out in a low murmur, his gaze darting between you and Azriel. His eyes narrow as he finally notices the subtle shift in the air, in your scents. The scent of a bond. 

“You two are mates,” he says, tone laced with resignation. Because even he, a High Lord, is not above going against The Cauldron.

It feels like a punch to the gut for Rhysand. His best friend and his sister. Fate’s inevitable design had been right under his nose all along. “What?” Rhysand breathes in shock, chest still heaving from the exertion of his magic.

Azriel’s hand tightens around yours. His gaze softens as he turns to you, the fierce protectiveness from earlier easing into something gentler. And when your eyes meet again, it’s there—the unmistakable light of the mating bond. It shines bright and steady between you. Just like your love for each other does.

 A light that never goes out.

bonus scene

Once the shock of the bond had worn off, the High Lord excused himself, muttering about damage control. “Spring will be the hardest to deal with,” he had said.

Rhysand’s body tensed as his eyes found yours. But you’d only given him a small, reassuring smile. Though it is something you would like to talk about, his secret would remain safe with you.

Your father would soon announce the bond to the Court of Nightmares, already making plans for a grand mating ceremony. You’d much rather have something private, intimate. But a public celebration seemed like a small price to pay for the lifetime you’d get to spend beside the male you loved.

Rhysand turned his gaze back to Azriel, his expression still unreadable. “You never answered my question,” he said, voice calm but edged with something darker. “How long?”

Azriel hesitated before answering, unlike the way he had with the High Lord. This was his best friend standing in front of him. The one he grew up and trained along with, survived the brutality of the Blood Rite with. Rhysand was like a brother to him and he went behind his back for years.

 “A decade.”

“A decade?” Rhysand blinks in surprise. 

A whole decade of secrecy. Of Azriel sneaking around with his little sister. It all made sense now. Why Azriel became more reserved, more private. Why Azriel no longer indulged himself with the pleasures of the females at Rita’s or the Illyrian camps like he and Cassian did. Why you spent more time at the Moonstone palace, instead of the House of Wind, where you had grown up and been raised by a handful of Priestesses. It hadn’t been to learn about the politics of the courts but to be closer to Azriel.

And then, with no warning, Rhysand swings.

The hit lands squarely on Azriel’s jaw, so swift and unexpected that neither you nor Azriel’s shadows had seen it coming. Azriel takes the blow without protest, silently commanding his shadows to stand their ground and not fight back. 

“Rhys!” you snapped, your brows furrowing into a scowl. 

Rhysand huffs, shaking out his hand from the impact. “That’s for going behind my back,” he says. He pauses for a second and then, he lets out a low chuckle. Full of disbelief and relief.

“I’m still angry at both of you,” Rhysand admits, and Azriel lowers his head, bracing for more. “Not because it’s you—though I’ll admit, seeing you together is... strange. But because you kept it from me for so long, putting both of your lives at risk.”

Then Rhysand’s voice softens, his gaze following. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

Azriel lifts his head back up in surprise as Rhysand holds out his hand.

 “You’re a good male, Azriel. Better than most. And I know you’ll protect her. Love her in a way no one else can.”

Azriel stares at Rhysand’s outstretched hand before finally clasping it, the tension between them easing. Your chest warms at your brother’s sincerity.

The sound of footsteps, heavy and hurried, echo through the stone walls. They grow louder with each passing second and moments later, Cassian and Mor appear at the entrance of your father’s study. Cassian braces himself against the doorframe and Mor leans on him, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

It’s clear they’re winded from the endless stairs they must’ve taken to reach the floor of your father’s private study. It was located between the Court of Nightmares and Moonstone Palace, warded so that only those of his bloodline could winnow directly inside.

Their eyes dart between the three of you. 

“What did we miss?”

a/n: hope you enjoyed! here’s a little HC (idk what to call it?) of Rhys’s sis & Az if you’re curious 💙

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry, @tothestarsandwhateverend, @tulipbite, @kylaisra, @stressed-reader

[nxtaliaistyping]

hii i recently became obsessed with your writing and links theyre so good😖do you think u could write something about tim drake getting nasty w his s/o like him being really into eating pussy or maybe give a few more link reqs ?? anyways luv uu

Tim Drake being a nasty boy lmao

Authors note: oh darling, flattery will get you EVERYWHERE on this blog. Thank you very much for your sweet comments.

18+ nsfw, fem reader, kinda public play

“Christ Tim!”

You harshly whisper at him, feeling the breath on your ear as his hand wanders down. Nursing your drink, you glance around the packed gala to ensure nobody was looking in your direction, or they’d see your boyfriend attempting to grope your ass over your tight dress.

“C’mon birdie, it’s not my fault.” He mumbles, but withdraws his hand just the same. “I wouldn’t be so desperate if you’d have let me-“

You cut him off with a slight slap of his arm, knowing what he was gonna say before he finished. Tim hated these things, charity gala’s full of stuck up rich folk who cared more about their public image than helping whatever group the gala was pledging to support. But being adopted by practically the richest and most philanthropic man means he has to make appearances, much to his dismay.

You’d had to practically drag him out of bed and into a suit, before you started to get yourself ready. That’s when he started, kissing up and down your neck and collarbones as you were applying your moisturiser. But it quickly escalated to him practically crawling under your vanity and begging you to let him eat your pussy.

Any other day you’d have let him, sinking back into your chair and letting him lap at you like an obedient puppy. But you knew if you let him you’d never get to the gala, and his dad would have had another stern talk with Tim about the responsibility of public life and image, so you pushed him away, ignoring the neglected throb of your clit.

But it didn’t stop him from trying, in the car over when he groped at your thighs. He grinned when you couldn’t hold back your smile, before huffing when you told him you weren’t changing your mind.

So now you were both stood like wallflowers, watching the elite of Gotham schmooze over expensive shrimps and champagne, while you try and ignore your pussy leaking.

“Tim, can’t you just pretend to enjoy yourself?”

He smirks, leaning in and biting your ear playfully. “I know how I’d really enjoy myself”

“Oh yeah? Well I don’t think that your father’s guests would appreciate you fucking me over the buffet table.”

“Babyyyy.” He whines, “you know I don’t mean that. I meant we could go someplace…”

You laugh softly, shaking your head a little at his antics. He hums, his hand holding your waist and pulling you into him. “Birdie I’m serious…I bet I could make you cum so quick we’d hardly be gone.”

“Bit cocky of you, Drake.” You tease, but god you can’t deny you’re tempted. The boredom of such a stuffy party has really set in, and as his fingers dance along your back, you get the sense he’ll achieve his wants regardless.

“I’ve got the skills, what can I say?” He laughs softly, before squeezing your ass a little. “C’mon…please?”

You sigh, thighs pressed together before relenting. Giving him a playful glare, you whisper to him. “Alright. You have five minutes.”

That’s how you find yourself with your back pressed against the wall of an empty corridor, and Tim sinking to his knees. He rolls the tight fabric of your dress up, exposing your wet panties.

“And you say I’m the desperate one.” Tim taunts at you, before you playfully roll your eyes.

Undeterred, he gently places a few kisses on your inner thighs, dragging his tongue up and causing you to shiver a little. He gently nibbles, before you whimper gently.

“Tim…thought you were on a time limit.”

“Can’t I appreciate my girl? Especially when I’m about to do my favorite activity?”

Despite the tough face you’re attempting to put on, you can’t deny the teasing lilt of his words makes you blush. But alas he pulls down your panties, eyeing up your dripping cunt with a facial expression that screams desire.

He leans in and sniffs, causing your blush to deepen at how truly desperate he looks down there, before he sticks out his tongue and licks a broad stripe along your folds. You whimper softly, as he repeats the motion a few times, before he really gets stuck in.

The sounds are obscene, as he delves in like an explorer, nose brushing against your clit as he practically makes out with your hole. Hyper aware that you’re both still semi in public, you clasp a hand over your mouth to stifle any more noises. You don’t want to get busted because one drunk social climber decides to leave the gala early and explore, only to find Bruce Wayne’s son with his tongue up his girlfriend.

Your hips gently rock into his face as he continues to slurp and suck every part of your pussy. Shaking his head, he ensures no inch is spared from his appendage. He plunges his tongue into your hole before licking up and flicking against your clit quickly just to watch you shiver.

When he pulls away for breath, the lower half of his face shines with a mixture of spit and your juices, but he doesn’t stop for long before diving right back in.

“I love how you taste.” He says against you, sucking your clit into his mouth.

You try and thank him, but you don’t trust yourself to not moan loud enough for someone to hear, so you keep quiet. A hand tangles its way into his hair, and you tug gently to manoeuvre him into the right area.

He can tell you’re getting closer, reading your body language well, so he doubles down on your clit. Moaning into you, his nose is practically completely covered with your pubic hair due to how much he’s pushing his face into you, not wanting to breathe anything that isn’t your smell.

With a choked warning, you cum in his mouth, small gasps and moans escaping you as your fist locks in his hair. Your chest heaves with shaky breaths as you come down, but Tim doesn’t stop. He licks at your folds, your inner thighs, attempting to drink up every last bit of cum that he can.

“t-tim…” you moan out, knowing you both have been gone for too long.

“I know I know.” He mumbles, not being able to resist a few more laps at your hole before reluctantly pulling away. “I could have given you another one birdie.”

You laugh softly. “I know babe.”

Just then, you hear someone walking down the corridor, and you quickly yank your panties up while Tim stands and pulls your dress back down. Just in time for Jason to come round the corner.

“Tim, been lookin’ for you everywhere. Bruce is gonna make his speech, wants a picture with everyone afterwards, get your ass back inside.” He says, eyeing you both.

“We’ll be right there.” You reply, attempting to smile normally, to which Jason hums.

The older brother turns to leave, but not before looking over his shoulder. ��And Tim dear? Wipe your face before you get in.”

[julietsf1]

Hurricane - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: When a hurricane leaves Y/N stranded at Charles’s Monaco apartment with a few of his friends, Y/N has to navigate both the storm outside and the one brewing inside. (5k words)

AN: The absolute confusion I had when I saw a hurricane warning from my government yesterday (I live in south of France); they later changed it to a regular storm warning, as it was a mistake but it did inspire me to write a lil something :) Hope you all have a lovely day cuties <3

__________________________________________

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the wide-open balcony doors, casting a golden hue over Charles’s perfectly pristine Monaco apartment. I sat cross-legged on the plush rug, sipping wine and admiring the explosion of shopping bags Alexandra and I had managed to accumulate during our day out. Monte Carlo had definitely been kind to us, and the light buzz from the wine wasn’t hurting either.

“I swear, you have this insane ability to sniff out the best deals,” I said, holding up a silk scarf I knew I’d never wear but had bought anyway. “How do you do it?”

Alexandra, always composed, gave me a sly smile from where she lounged on the couch, a glass of wine cradled effortlessly in her hand. “It’s all about instinct. Plus, I had to keep up with you. You were like a woman possessed.”

“Possessed by a very stylish demon,” I quipped, draping the scarf over my shoulder dramatically before laughing. The kind of laughter that happens when you’re a bit tipsy and surrounded by a friend who knows all your quirks.

“I still can’t believe we’ve kept this monthly tradition alive,” Alexandra mused, swirling her wine. “Feels like just yesterday we were running around Paris pretending to understand every art piece in the Louvre.”

I smirked, raising my glass. “Fake it till you make it, right? Look at us now — two very sophisticated, responsible young women.”

Alexandra burst into laughter at that, nearly spilling her drink. “Yes, responsible. Totally why we blew our budgets in today.”

“Hey, this is what reunions are for. Besides, Charles is always dragging you to fancy dinners — we need to keep up appearances.”

“Cheers to that,” Alexandra laughed. These reunions had become a tradition ever since they both left Paris. Shopping, gossiping, and generally pretending they had their lives together for a few days before returning to reality.

“I do wish I could stay longer,” Y/N said, glancing at her watch. “But I’ve got a flight back to tonight.”

Alexandra pouted in a way that could have convinced anyone to cancel their plans. “Come on, just stay for dinner.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I really can’t,” Y/N replied, laughing. “I don’t have a private jet. Air France is not going to wait for me.”

As if on cue, the front door swung open, and there was Charles, as effortlessly polished as ever, with a smile that seemed to say, I’m trying not to stress but also, I’m probably going to stress.

“Bonsoir, ladies,” he greeted, dropping his keys on the counter. “Good day of shopping, I assume?”

“The best,” I grinned, waving a hand over the spread of bags surrounding us. “Your appartment is stunning by the way.”

He smiled, giving a mock bow. “I do what I can You should stay for a bit, a few people are coming over tonight — nothing too crazy. Just some of the guys.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “The guys?”

“Yeah, nothing too big. Just Lando, George, Max, and Franco. A little pre-birthday thing before we head out later.”

I exchanged a quick glance with Alexandra, who was already giving me her classic stay for dinner look. Before I could protest, the apartment door swung open again, and in walked George, looking as composed and proper as ever. His eyes scanned the apartment critically before zeroing in on Charles.

“I still think hiring a private chef is a bit over the top,” George began, without so much as a greeting. “We could’ve managed something ourselves, you know. Is this private chef going to stick to traditional recipes? I’m just saying, none of that modern fusion nonsense. I don’t want to find some deconstructed tartare on my plate. It should be classic and-”

“Hi, George,” I cut in, giving him a pointed look.

He blinked, suddenly remembering that Alexandra and I were present. “Oh, Y/N, Alexandra. Didn’t see you there. Apologies, m’ladies.” He gave a polite nod before turning back to Charles. “Anyway, as I was saying—”

“George, we’ve got it covered,” Charles sighed, looking like he was already regretting inviting his overly particular friend.

Before George could launch into another monologue about culinary disasters, the door swung open again, and Lando breezed in with his signature chaotic energy. He didn’t just walk into a room, he practically exploded into it.

“Ladies, gentlemen, I have arrived!” Lando declared, grinning widely as if he’d just been announced at a royal ball. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on me and Alexandra. “Ah, the usual suspects. So, what’s the plan? Dinner, drinks, maybe a little dancing after?”

“That’s the idea,” Alexandra said, raising an eyebrow. “But Y/N is trying to bail for her flight.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest in exaggerated shock. “What? Absolutely not. We’re not letting you leave before you at least see how this chef performs under George’s expert critique.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling. “You’re all ridiculous. I really do need to catch that flight.”

“You’ll miss the best part of the night!” Lando said, leaning back with a knowing grin. “But fine, if you have to go, you have to go.”

As if on cue, the door opened again, and in walked Max — no dramatic entrance, no greetings. He headed straight for the bar, poured himself a gin and tonic, and turned to the group with a small nod, holding up his glass.

“Evening,” he said, like this was all completely normal.

“Hi, Max,” I replied, grinning at his predictable, casual demeanor.

“Y/N. Alexandra,” Max greeted, raising his glass in acknowledgment before taking a long sip, completely unfazed by Lando’s lingering excitement or George’s quiet simmer of judgment.

It didn’t take long for everyone to fall into their usual rhythms. Charles, now somewhat resigned to the chaos, was behind the counter mixing drinks. George, still hovering like a concerned parent, muttered under his breath about the chef’s qualifications. Meanwhile, Lando was already plotting mischief, and Max was sipping his gin as if nothing in the world could faze him.

I found myself laughing at how these gatherings always followed the same unpredictable-yet-predictable pattern. It was hectic, but in the best way. As much as I hated to admit it, I would probably miss it if I left for Paris tonight. But I already had my ticket, urging me to start packing.

As I sat there, mentally preparing to say my goodbyes, the door opened again. In walked someone I didn’t recognize. He moved with a relaxed, almost casual confidence, and instantly, the energy in the room seemed to shift. He didn’t need to announce himself or make a grand entrance like Lando had — his presence was subtle but noticeable.

His hair was slightly tousled, the kind that looked soft and effortlessly styled in that perfectly imperfect way. The moment he smiled, a warm, very cute grin, I felt a brief flicker of something, my heart beating a little faster in my chest. There was something disarming about him. He had the kind of smile that made you feel like you’d known him forever, even though I’d never seen him before.

He stepped closer, his green eyes flicking to me. “You must be Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth and pleasant as he extended a hand.

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the easy charm he exuded. It wasn’t forced or showy, just... natural. Recovering quickly, I shook his hand. “That’s me. Nice to meet you.”

“Franco,” He held onto my gaze for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes unmistakable. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot.”

“All good things, I hope,” I replied, trying not to be too obvious as I shot a quick glance at Alexandra, who was absolutely soaking up this moment.

“Always,” he said with a playful glint in his eyes before releasing my hand.

Alexandra didn’t waste a second before giving me that knowing look, the one that practically screamed I told you you should stay. I elbowed her lightly, trying to suppress my smile and the butterflies that were fluttering in my stomach. 

Before I could continue the conversation or ask Franco who exactly had been talking about me, Charles’s phone buzzed loudly from across the room. As he glanced down, and the expression on his face shifted so fast it was almost comical — the laid-back vibe of the evening vanished instantly.

“Oh no.”

“What is it?” I asked, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.

Charles stared at his phone, his brow furrowed. “It’s a hurricane alert.”

“A hurricane?” Lando immediately perked up, jumping off the couch as if the word itself had given him a burst of energy. “In Monte Carlo?”

Charles nodded, his expression darkening. “Yeah. Whole south of France. All flights are grounded, transportation is suspended and residents must stay inside.”

My stomach sank. “My flight…”

Alexandra, not missing a beat and clearly enjoying the chaos unfolding, sipped her wine and smirked. “Looks like you’re not going anywhere.”

Lando, ever the opportunist, grabbed Charles’s phone from him and squinted at the screen. “Ouragan? That’s the French word for hurricane? That’s got to be a joke.” He wrinkled his nose, making it sound even more absurd than it already did.

Max, sitting comfortably and sipping his gin, raised an eyebrow laughing. “That’s why I live in the Italian speaking part.”

“Lando, right now is not the moment to be critical of the French.” George said, looking concerned. 

Charles let out a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his hair, now visibly stressed. “Everything’s closed down. We’re stuck here for the night.”

Franco, now fully settled into a chair beside me, shrugged casually. “There are worse places to be stuck,” he said, his voice light, as if we weren’t all just stranded.

I glanced over at him, and he smiled again, that same easy warmth that seemed to make everything feel a little less chaotic. The thought of being stuck suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

Lando, on the other hand, looked positively thrilled. “Guess we’re having a proper night in!” He clapped his hands together, already mentally planning the night ahead.

Meanwhile, George, who had been standing to the side, immediately shifted into problem-solving mode. “We need to secure the windows, check supplies, make sure we have—”

“George, mate,” Max cut in, raising his glass without looking up, “it’s a little hurricane, not the end of the world. We’re fine.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the ridiculousness of the situation beginning to sink in. As subtly as I could, I turned to sneak another glance at the guy next to me. His presence, along with that gentle, easy smile, had a way of making everything else feel a little less chaotic. For a brief moment, the reality of being stuck in here didn’t seem so bad. 

..

It didn’t take long for the mood in the apartment to shift, Lando, of course, was the first to act, bouncing off the couch and making a beeline for the Bluetooth speaker.

“If we’re stuck here, we might as well make it fun!” he declared, pulling out his phone and connecting it to the speaker. Within seconds, upbeat music filled the room as Lando scrolled through his playlist, queuing up tracks to keep the vibe alive. “Max, you in?”

Max, who had been lazily sipping his gin and tonic, grinned and gave a small nod. “Always.”

With the music pumping, it was clear that Lando and Max were determined to turn the situation into a party, despite the looming hurricane. I glanced at Alexandra, who simply shook her head, amused.

Meanwhile, Charles was pacing near the kitchen, still on the phone with the now-stranded private chef. His frustration was evident in the deep sighs he kept letting out. “Yes, I get it. But seriously? Not even a chance? Yeah, okay. Fine. Thanks,” he muttered, hanging up with an exasperated expression. “The chef can’t make it. We’re on our own.”

“That’s our cue,” Alexandra said, standing up and rolling her sleeves. “Y/N, you ready to help me chef it up?”

“Lead the way,” I replied, following her into the kitchen. The ingredients we had weren’t extensive, but Alexandra was already surveying the options with a critical eye, assessing what we could make work. “How about a classic tarte tatin to start and coq au vin for the main course?” she suggested, her eyes gleaming with the challenge.

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re feeling ambitious.”

She smirked. “We’re in Monte Carlo, aren’t we? Let’s do this properly.”

We quickly got to work, but as we gathered ingredients, I could feel someone hovering. Sure enough, George had appeared at the edge of the kitchen, arms crossed, watching us with that critical, calculating look. He looked ready to swoop in at any moment.

“I just want to make sure everything’s going according to plan,” George said, his tone a little too intense for a casual night stuck in a storm. “Are you sure you want to sauté those vegetables at that heat? I mean, it’s important we get the timing just right…”

Alexandra and I exchanged a quick glance, both of us trying not to laugh but also feeling the mounting pressure of George’s constant observations. It wasn’t that he was wrong, but his looming presence was starting to make things awkward.

Before either of us could respond, Franco, who had been leaning against the counter, stepped in with perfect timing. “You know, George, you’re really the only one here who knows how to handle a hurricane situation properly. I mean, I wouldn’t know the first thing about securing an apartment for a storm like this,” Franco said, his voice sincere but with a hint of playful exaggeration.

George, caught off guard, turned to Franco with a raised brow. “Well, thank you for noticing! Finally someone who takes my expertise to heart.”

Franco nodded, widening his eyes slightly as if he were genuinely impressed. “Yes! You’ve got to come up with gameplan, George.”

George’s posture shifted, the critical kitchen gaze giving way to the more pressing issue of hurricane preparedness. “Well, I suppose someone should check the windows… and the doors. And make sure we have everything we need in case it gets worse.”

Franco smiled, giving him a reassuring nod. “Exactly, and you’re the best person for that. Don’t worry about us in here. I’ll make sure everything’s under control while you handle the important stuff.”

George stood a little taller, clearly feeling validated. “Right. I’ll get to it, then.” With that, he turned on his heel and started making his way toward the windows, leaving the kitchen — and us — in peace.

I let out a quiet breath of relief as Franco turned back toward us with a mischievous grin. 

Alexandra chuckled, tossing him a knife. “Not bad. We owe you for that one.”

Franco caught the knife easily, giving a mock bow. “Happy to be of service. Need any help? Shall I chop something? Stir?”

I exchanged a glance with Franco, who had already rolled up his sleeves and was looking at the ingredients with a playful grin. “You any good at this?” I asked, 

“I’ve got some skills,” he said, flashing that same warm smile from earlier. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of it.”

I blushed a little, which Franco seemed to notice. He let out a soft chuckle, brushing his hand over my lower back as he walked to the other side of the kitchen to grab a cutting board. 

As we got deeper into the cooking, Franco’s talkative side started to show. He moved smoothly through the kitchen, cutting vegetables, making jokes, and occasionally breaking into exaggerated commentary about our process.

“You know, this tarte tatin is already looking better than any I’ve ever seen. Michelin-star level for sure,” he said with a grin, watching as I arranged the caramelized apples in the pan.

“Oh, absolutely,” Alexandra chimed in with a teasing tone. “I’m sure we’ll have food critics knocking down the door any minute now.”

Franco raised his hands in surrender, still smiling. “Hey, I’m just saying, if this racing thing doesn’t work out, I now got a backup plan.”

The smell of the coq au vin simmering away filled the apartment, a comforting aroma that seemed to blend perfectly with the upbeat music still playing from Lando’s speaker. Max, now fully entertained by Lando’s ridiculous dance moves, was swaying along with him, both of them taking occasional breaks to sip their drinks and laugh at each other.

I glanced back at Franco as he finished chopping, handing the neatly diced vegetables to Alex. “You’re a natural,” I said, impressed by how quickly he picked up the rhythm of the kitchen.

“Guess you bring out the best in me,” he replied with a wink, and I felt a warmth rise to my cheeks despite myself.

I couldn’t help but smile at that, the stress of the hurricane melting away little by little as we worked. Franco was good at keeping things light, his constant chatter and easygoing attitude making the cooking feel more like fun than an obligation.

After placing the tarte tatin in the oven, I wiped my hands and glanced out toward the rest of the apartment. George was now in full storm-prep mode, diligently checking windows, making sure everything was locked tight, and muttering under his breath about emergency plans. Charles, though still somewhat stressed, had at least stopped pacing and was leaning against the counter, sipping a drink as he watched Lando and Max’s antics.

“Not bad for a last-minute Plan B, huh?” Franco said, standing beside me as he washed his hands at the sink.

“Not bad at all,” I replied, feeling a warm sense of accomplishment as the scents filled the apartment. 

..

Dinner was a success, much to the delight of everyone in the apartment. The tarte tatin had been perfect, golden and crisp, and the coq au vin rich and flavorful, enough to win over even George, who begrudgingly admitted that “for a last-minute dinner, it wasn’t bad at all.” 

The energy in the apartment was buzzing, and the storm outside seemed like a distant hum. With Lando’s playlist still thumping in the background, we settled in the living room, everyone lounging comfortably after the meal. But George, predictably, couldn’t handle the idea of sitting idle for too long.

“Right,” George announced, standing up and clapping his hands together. “Now that we’ve eaten, how about some games? We could do something like charades or—”

Max, already sprawled out with his drink in hand, rolled his eyes. “Boring,” he drawled. “Let’s play something fun, like a drinking game.”

Lando’s face lit up immediately. “Now that’s more like it!”

George looked appalled. “A drinking game? We just had dinner!”

“That’s exactly why,” Max said, raising his glass. “Got to flush it down for dessert.”

Lando, grinning ear to ear, was already hopping off the couch. “Alright, but it has to be something chaotic. Max, what’s that one game we talked about? The one from New Girl?”

“True American,” Max replied, slouching further into his chair with a smirk. “That’s the one.”

George frowned. “What in the world is True American?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s a drinking game, but with no clear rules, lots of chaos, and a touch of American history thrown in for fun.”

“And the floor is lava,” Lando added, already rearranging the room, pushing chairs and cushions into strategic positions.

“The floor is… lava?” George echoed, still looking deeply confused.

“Yep! So you have to move from piece of furniture to piece of furniture without touching the ground,” I explained, grinning as I grabbed some throw pillows to use as extra stepping stones.

Franco chuckled beside me, shaking his head. “Sounds like absolute madness.”

“Exactly,” I said, laughing. “You’ll love it.”

Max, now fully invested, sat up slightly. “Also, there are random trivia questions, mostly American history. And whenever someone shouts, ‘JFK!’ you have to drink.”

George raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “None of us are American. Can’t we do a British variant instead?”

“That wouldn’t be fair, mate,” Lando chuckled, stretching out his arms as if preparing for the chaos that was about to unfold. “You’re practically the lovechild of David Attenborough and the Encyclopaedia Britannica.”

“Yeah, at least let’s pick something where we all have an equal chance of winning,” Alexandra added, already on her feet and moving chairs around with an excited bounce. “Let’s call it True F1.”

Charles, who had been quietly observing the conversation from the couch, finally chimed in with a grin. “I’d actually love to see how you guys twist F1 trivia into a drinking game.”

Lando, never one to waste a good opportunity, was already hopping between the coffee table and the armrest of the nearest chair. “Alright! Here’s how it works: the floor is still lava, obviously. But instead of random American history facts, you shout out random F1 facts — the weirder, the better. If someone calls out a track name, you have to switch ‘circuits’, aka furniture, without touching the floor. Got it?”

Max smirked, finishing off his drink. “Sounds ridiculous. I’m in.”

Within minutes, the living room had been transformed into a messy obstacle course of chairs, pillows, and random objects. Lando, the unofficial captain of chaos, had already hopped onto the coffee table, gesturing for everyone to join him.

The game quickly descended into the same kind of chaos that Lando had promised. Max and Charles were the first to yell out random facts.

“Did you know Toto’s real first name is Totoro?” Max announced confidently, clearly just making things up for the fun of it, earning a glare from George.

“Very funny, mate,” Lando called back, leaping onto a chair. “But did you know Michael Schumacher once raced a kangaroo in Australia?”

Charles, balancing on the armrest of the couch, raised an eyebrow, amused but skeptical. “I’m pretty sure that didn’t happen.”

George, meanwhile, looked completely bewildered. “Wait, what? Is any of this true?”

“Doesn’t matter!” Lando shot back, moving to a footstool.

I found myself laughing uncontrollably, trying to maintain my balance as I stood on the armrest of a chair. Franco, standing nearby on the coffee table, reached out a hand to help me jump to the next ‘circuit’ — in this case, a cushion on the floor.

“Careful,” he teased, his hand steadying me. “You don’t want to fall into ‘Turn 13 at Monaco.’ It’s a tricky one.”

“Monaco? I thought we were in Silverstone,” I replied with a grin as I took his hand.

Franco chuckled, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s a complicated circuit.”

As I jumped, I almost lost my balance, wobbling slightly. Franco, quick to react, caught me, his arm wrapping around my waist to steady me. His touch was warm, and as our eyes met, the playful atmosphere between us shifted, feeling suddenlya bit more charged.

“You good?” he asked softly, his smile still warm but with a little more weight behind it.

“Yeah,” I breathed, trying to ignore the blush creeping up on my cheeks. “Thanks.”

I honestly didn’t mind standing like this. For a second, it felt like the rest of the game had faded into the background, the noise dimming around us. But then, just as quickly, Charles shouted from across the room, “Spa-Francorchamps!”

The spell broke. Franco let go, and I hopped onto the next chair, trying to suppress the grin that was forming on my face.

The game continued with more nonsensical facts. Max tried to convince George that Fernando Alonso once moonlit as a matador, while Lando made up a story about Kimi Räikkönen secretly being Oscar Piastri’s dad.

Meanwhile, Alexandra, acrobatically clinging a nearby bookshelf, caught my eye, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “T’as capté? Il te lâche pas du tout.” (Did you catch that? He can’t stop looking at you.)

I laughed, shaking my head. “Arrête…” (Stop…)

She raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “T’inquiète, ma puce, j’dirai rien... mais c’est cramé!” (Don’t worry, sweetie, I won’t say anything… but it’s so obvious!)

We giggled, and across the room, Charles, who had clearly understood the exchange, raised an eyebrow, amused. He didn’t say anything, but his knowing look said enough.

Lando, noticing the laughter but missing the French, put his hands on his hips dramatically. “Oi! What’s going on over there? You two plotting in French again? That’s not fair!”

Alexandra and I burst into laughter, but before I could explain, Lando waved a hand dramatically. “Fine! You know what? Max! We’ll speak Dutch and leave them out.”

Max raised his glass, thoroughly entertained. “Go ahead, mate.”

Lando nodded, puffing up with mock determination. “Absolutely. Let’s go!”

Max leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Alright, your turn.”

Lando furrowed his brow in concentration and attempted his best Dutch. “Uhh… Ik… spreek beetje Nederland… ja?”

Max nearly choked on his gin. “That’s… good effort.”

Undeterred, Lando kept at it, much to Max’s amusement. “Lekker... uh… ja?”

Max waved him off, laughing. “Stop. You’re embarrassing the language.”

The game continued late into the evening, with everyone’s laughter filling the room. Despite the storm outside, the chaos, and the completely nonsensical F1 trivia, it felt like we’d turned the night into something unexpectedly fun.

..

The night had wound down after hours of conversation, laughter, and chaotic games. The storm outside was still relentless, but inside the apartment, everything felt warm and comfortable. Conversations had softened, and people were beginning to yawn, signaling the end of the night.

Alexandra and Charles were the first to head off, exchanging quiet goodnights before disappearing into their room. The rest of us remained scattered around the living room, tired but still riding the wave of the evening’s energy.

Max, who had been slowly sinking into the armchair with his sixth gin and tonic, stood up, stretched, and made a beeline for the guest room without a word. It was clear he was done for the night. Lando was half-asleep on the larger couch, sprawled out in his usual dramatic fashion, leaving little room for George, who had claimed the other side.

Franco, who had been lounging on the small two-seater sofa, stretched his arms and looked over at me. “Looks like this is my spot for the night,” he said with a grin, patting the cushion beside him. “Not much room, except between Lando and George. You might as well join me.”

I hesitated for a second, but the way he said it — so casual and light, yet with that playful spark in his eyes — made it clear that the offer wasn’t just about space. The tension between us was undeniable.

I smirked, feigning reluctance. “Alright, but if you take up all the room, I’m kicking you off.”

Franco chuckled softly, shifting over to make space for me. “Deal.”

I sat down next to him, the proximity between us much closer than I had anticipated. The couch was small, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, being close to Franco felt easy, natural. His arm rested across the back of the sofa, and as we settled in, his fingers lightly brushed my shoulder.

We sat there for a moment in silence, the only sounds coming from the soft rumble of the storm outside and the occasional rustling from Lando’s half-asleep movements on the other couch. The apartment had gone from a chaotic whirlwind of noise and laughter to a quiet, almost serene atmosphere.

Franco shifted slightly, his fingers moving gently to stroke my hair. The movement was soft and rhythmic, calming, and I felt my heart skip a beat. I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest. His touch was tender, each stroke of his hand sending a warm shiver through me as I relaxed into the closeness between us.

We didn’t need to say anything. The silence between us spoke volumes, and as the storm continued to rage outside, I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the blankets or the fire. Franco’s presence next to me, his fingers softly tracing through my hair, was all the comfort I needed.

As we lay there, my eyes growing heavy, Franco leaned down just slightly, his breath warm against my hair. “Sleep well,” he whispered.

I smiled, closing my eyes. “You too.”

And with that, the storm outside became nothing more than a distant hum as I drifted off, cocooned in the warmth of Franco’s embrace, his hand still softly stroking my hair.

..

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the apartment. The storm had passed, leaving only the gentle patter of rain ticking against the window. stirred slightly, realizing that Franco’s arm was still wrapped around me, and my head rested comfortably against his chest. It might sound a bit odd but waking up like this — still wrapped up in his embrace — felt surprisingly natural.

Franco shifted beneath me, his arm tightening briefly before he blinked awake, his eyes meeting mine with a soft, sleepy smile.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice still low and heavy with sleep.

“Morning,” I replied, matching his smile.

Neither of us moved for a few moments, letting the quiet of the morning linger between us. I could hear faint sounds coming from the kitchen, the telltale signs of someone already up and making breakfast. I lifted my head slightly, glancing over toward the kitchen, and saw Lando and George huddled near the stove, clearly trying not to be obvious as they watched us.

Lando, with his ever-present grin, didn’t miss a beat. “Well, well, well. Look who’s finally awake.”

George, more restrained but no less amused, added, “Breakfast is almost ready... in case you’re interested.”

I sat up, reluctantly pulling myself away from Franco’s embrace, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks under their teasing gazes. Franco, however, seemed completely unbothered, sitting up with a lazy stretch and flashing them a grin. “You guys couldn’t give us a few more minutes?”

Lando flipped a pancake with dramatic flair. “Mate, I’ve been up for hours. Go do that lovey dovey stuff some other time.”

Before I could respond, more footsteps approached from the hallway, and soon enough, Max and Charles appeared, both looking groggy but curious. Charles raised an eyebrow when he saw Franco and me, but he said nothing, just exchanged a knowing glance with Alexandra, who had wandered into the room with a smile.

She looked between Franco and me, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Leaning in, she whispered, “Je vois que tu as passé une très bonne nuit… “(I see you had a very good night...)

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking my head at her teasing. Franco glanced between us, clearly picking up on the tone but not the words. “What did she say this time?”

“Just more girl talk,” I replied with a grin, standing up.

The kitchen smelled of pancakes, coffee, and eggs as everyone gathered around the table for breakfast. The atmosphere was relaxed. Even Max, still hungover, managed a grin as the lighthearted banter continued.

After breakfast, as everyone began packing up and getting ready to leave, Franco pulled me aside. His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “So... I was thinking.”

I turned to him, curious. “About what?”

He hesitated for just a second, but then smiled. “I live in Madrid, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me for a few extra days. It’d be nice to spend some more time together... before you head back to Paris.”

Hearing it made my heart flutter. Madrid. A few extra days with Franco. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

“I’ve had a lot of fun and I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. If you let me, of course.”

“I’d love that,” I replied softly.

Franco’s grin widened, the excitement clear on his face. “Perfect.”

Before I could say anything else, Lando’s voice cut through the room. “Oi! What’s this about Madrid? You two planning a romantic getaway?”

Franco didn’t miss a beat. He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on the top of my head, and then turned to Lando with a mischievous grin. “Jealous?”

Lando clutched his chest dramatically. “A little bit, yeah! Where’s my invite?”

Everyone laughed, even Max managed a small chuckle behind his coffee cup. The teasing flowed easily as we packed up, and the mood in the apartment was as bright as the morning outside. Whatever had started between Franco and me felt natural, fun, and as I grabbed my things, I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about what was next. I wasn’t nervous, just excited —a new adventure waiting to unfold.

[luveline]

may i please request a grumpy!sirius x sunshine!reader for halloween with the prompt ⋆ "i love you, i swear i do, but we're not wearing matching costumes."

or anything that strikes your fancy!!💞💞💞 love your writing!

“I love you, I swear I do, but we’re not wearing matching costumes.” 

You smile and give your head a little wobble, pleased. Sirius declaring his love for you is quite vocal on his part. It means he isn’t as hard to sway as he might think. 

“Oi, stop smiling,” Sirius says. “I’ve said no.” 

You roll your eyes lovingly. Your smile is serene. 

“You’re such a conniving–”

“Careful,” you suggest, letting yourself into Sirius’ arms to hug him, resting your face in his chest. “We wouldn’t want to say something we can’t take back.” 

“I won’t do it.” He kisses the side of your face. “I simply won’t dress up.” 

“Have you considered my feelings?” you ask softly. 

“Have you considered my pride?” 

“It’s so large it considers itself.” 

“I mean, what would we even be?” 

“I’m glad you asked.”

“No, no,” he says, covering your mouth with his hand. “Less of that. Let’s go watch TV or something.”  

“Sirius,” you say in his hand. 

“I won’t wear a costume of any sort, and I especially won’t be matching. The gimmick of it all is a farce. Halloween in general is an American realisation of their appropriation of All Hallow’s Day, which is, in itself, another conversation.”

“And not the one we’re having.” You notice a fibre near his eye and stroke it away, smoothing along his eyebrow, tempted to pull him in for a kiss and forget what you’re talking about entirely. Yet! “It’s very important to me that we dress up together.” You sigh as he wraps his arms behind you, tipping back to see the world behind you upside down. Sirius doesn’t let you fall. “We’ll be Buffy and Riley,” you decide. 

“As if.” 

“Buffy and Spike?”

“Give me strength.” 

“Buffy and whom?” 

“How about you be Buffy, and I’ll play one of her unsuspecting victims?” Sirius asks. “In plainclothes.” 

“You’re trying to outsmart me.” You let yourself go heavy until Sirius is sliding his arms up your back, lithe, solid, and pulling you forcefully to his chest rather than let you take the both of you down. “It shan’t work.” 

Sirius looks you in the eyes and waits for something you’re unaware of. When he spots it, he frowns. “I am not going to dress up.” 

“Well, I’d never make you do something you didn’t want to do, Sirius,” you say.

His frown deepens. 

“I feel like you’re saying the opposite of what you’re actually saying.”

“You are so astute,” you praise. 

Sirius is quickly convinced of the argument he’s losing here and decides to frown at you with more conviction. “Darling, please don’t make me. I’ll be miserable.” 

You give him mercy. “Alright, you won’t wear one. But we’ll have to compromise, or I’ll be miserable, too. Maybe we can visit the pumpkin patch? Well pick out a few and carve them on the kitchen floor. Oh! And we’ll get candy apples from Tesco’s. No! Let’s make our own.” 

Unbeknownst to you, Sirius witnesses your excited vibrating and regrets saying no so soundly, but a couples costume is his worst nightmare. Pumpkin carving and candy apples are nothing compared to it, barely a compromise. He’ll have to even the winnings somehow. “Thank you,” he says, pouting ever so slightly. 

You give him a quick kiss and spring away from him, “I’ll get our shoes.”

[dearsnow]

SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT (WITH YOUR FISTS FOR ONCE)

- you and bradley had always been attached at the hip until life pulled him away. when you’re finally living in the same place again, your unspoken feelings come to the surface during a san diego bonfire. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x gn!reader, reader is characterized as someone who doesn’t like much attention, jealousyyyyyyyyy, pining & arguments but fluff at the end, ⚠️ mentions of alcohol / weed)

word count: 2,500

a/n - it’s so entertaining to come up with synonyms for kissing 😭 anyways, enjoy this, and listen to american teenager by ethel cain. oh and i was also so tempted to make the girl mickey in a wig, but i held back.

Bradley Bradshaw likes you. He’d go as far as to say he loves you, if he was being honest. He’s never said it, though, not in that way.

When you first met, he was pulled to you like a magnet. It was preschool, and he never left your side. He made macaroni portraits of you and you crafted tiny little friendship bracelets for him. Neither of you could speak well, or write well, but you stuck together anyways.

Your first written words were each other’s names.

Everything snowballed from there, but he couldn’t say he was mad at it.

You were so entirely different, but that’s what made it good, in his opinion. He always needed eyes on him, not for any pretentious ego-boosting reasons, but because it made him thrive. You tended to hide in the shadows. When you gave your eyes to him, and him to you, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

He was the classic class clown type all throughout middle and high school, with a football jersey and everything. When you came to his games, he swore he played a million times better, and you were happy to indulge in his superstition.

You like him, too. You’d go as far as to say you love him, if you’re being honest. You might’ve said it if he hadn’t been so clearly your platonic life partner. You would follow him, as toddlers, with his shirt edge balled in your small fist. You tried to draw him more times than you could count, but it always looked wrong, like you couldn’t really capture the life that he held so deeply in his eyes. You even considered joining the cheerleading squad for him, but you would’ve cringed under the gaze of the crowd.

When he left for the navy, and for college, and for anything after that, you wished you could bounce across the United States with him. Instead, you wrote him letters; copious amounts of them.

One thing that you both never dared to cross was the bounds of friendship. He would hold your hand, his thumb smoothing over the side of your fist, and there was nothing romantic about it. God, you wished it was, though.

Now that you’ve moved to San Diego, following him one last time, you beg whatever makes the rules to break them just once.

You walk up behind a broad-shouldered man you barely recognize and tap him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be lost. Could you direct me to a man named Bradley? I believe his call sign is something silly, like ‘duck’.”

He whips around, sunglasses and mustache entirely new to you. He speaks your name in a breathy whisper, like he’s afraid his words will break if he says them too loud. “You’re here? Like actually?”

You’ve barely replied before you’re wrapped in a hug, feet lifted off the ground and body spun around so many times you think you might be sick. “Geez, Brad, put me down!”

He sets you down gently, holding out an arm for stability as you collect your bearings. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe I’m seeing your face after all this time.” You’re even more breathtaking than he remembers.

San Diego has done him well, you reckon. His gold-tinted skin holds a deeper sense of warmth, now, even though he has always run hot. “You better get used to it. I have a fancy new apartment now, so I’m here to stay.”

His face holds a beaming grin, and the whole world falls away. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I’d be stuck here with just my coworkers.” He doesn’t even notice how you look at him with lovesick eyes.

After two months of San Diego, you say the one thing you thought you would never say: “I’m so sick of the sun.”

It’s midday, and you’re prepping for a Fourth of July bonfire party on the beach. The sun is beating down on your back, forcing you to scamper into the ocean every once in a while. Bradley is right beside you, wheeling yet another cooler onto the sand. “If I wasn’t worried about our shit being stolen, I’d suggest we abandon it and let Jake do all the work.”

You laugh. Jake was the one who suggested the whole bonfire, but, of course, he was “too busy” to help set up. You don’t mind doing the work. If it was an opportunity for you to be beside Bradley, you’d do anything. You’d even brave the burning ball of gas in the sky.

As you work, the sun disappears quickly.

By this point, after over two decades of friendship, you’ve lost a bit of that hope that pushed you to follow Brad in the first place. You know he’s attractive, and every woman in the world seems to know it too. What you didn’t know is that you’re pretty damn attractive too. As you’ve told yourself, you prefer to keep the attention off of you.

So, as the sun’s last dying rays scatter over the cooling sand, you pretend not to notice the women ogling your best friend.

The bonfire is great. Amazing, even. The flames reach high into the sky and the smell of smoke permeates the air; everything is cast in this sort of hazy glow, highlighting tanned skin and bright swimsuits. There’s also a woman chatting up Bradley, touching his arm flirtatiously, but you push that to the back of your mind. Instead, you’re focused on the guy in front of you, even when her giggle sends a ball of spikes into your heart.

He’s tall, a little on the skinny side, with tousled black hair and a puka shell necklace. Sand clings to his sandaled feet. He hands you a beer, which you tell yourself you won’t drink much of. You’ve already had a bit too much.

“So, know anyone here?” He asks. He’s eyeing you with a certain ferocity that you don’t notice, his gaze raking up and down your body.

You pop the can open and take a small sip. “Yeah. I know Bradshaw, and the rest by association.” You gesture to Jake and Natasha, who are arguing over a beach volleyball. You almost smile at the way she jabs him in the ribs, making him double over just enough for her to steal what’s so carefully held in his hands. The guy nods.

“I don’t. I’m here for the vibes, y’know?” He takes a step closer, and you notice he smells like smoke and something deeper, like perfumed weed. “And the pretty people.”

You shift in your place. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” You’re almost teasing now, completely missing the hunger in the way he licks his lips. Maybe you’re a little drunk, or maybe you’re just enjoying how someone seems to be giving you the longing looks you so sorely crave. It’s one night, you figure. You won’t ever see him again. What’s wrong with a little good-natured flirting?

“Absolutely.” He murmurs, reaching forward. His hand connects with the back of your neck, his breath cascading over your face, and your eyes flutter shut— before you’re yanked backwards by an arm around your waist.

You stumble. “What the hell?” You curse, colliding with a hard, warm chest. You drop your beer in the sand as you fall back. It’s Bradley, and he looks furious. “Brad, are you kidding me?”

“Come here.” His voice is lethally quiet and sharp as a knife. Your mind is reeling as you follow him a few paces closer to the fire, but a hot pool of anger sits in your stomach.

“Are you being serious right now? What in the world were you thinking?” You hiss. You look up at his tight-lipped face, utterly stoic in the light behind him.

“I’m not letting you kiss that piece of shit.”

“Who are you to decide who I kiss?” You’re so, so mad. So mad you could punch someone, but that would probably hurt you more than the person your fist connects with. Bradley just intervened in the one thing you thought he would never intervene in. You’ve let him swap spit with girls you’ve never seen before, and now he’s over here acting like you kissing one guy is the epitome of nastiness?

He scoffs. “You didn’t even notice, did you? That he was eyeing you like a piece of meat? God, he reeks of weed and swamp ass, too. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I could have the once in a lifetime opportunity to make out with a perfectly attractive guy without someone interrupting.” Your arms are crossed, but you feel a lump forming in your throat. In your mind, that really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you go out of your way to meet people, and the people you’ve met have never even slyly complimented you. You’re not the type that gets dates or drinks sent your way or anything more than platonic. Currently, platonic is staring you in the face with the rage of a thousand suns behind his eyes.

“Make out with Bob or Nat, I don’t care. At least they won’t undress you with their fuckboy blue eyes. Even Bagman is a better choice.”

“You don’t get to decide those things— friends don’t get to decide those things. I mean, I didn’t throw a hissy fit when you were openly flirting with that girl.” In the back of your mind, you know he’s right. You know that your stomach dropped when the guy leaned closer to you, and that your kicked-down self esteem made him out to be a whole lot more attractive than he probably (definitely) was.

Bradley runs a hand through his already slightly messy hair, sighing like he’s regretting ever hitting you with a sand pail in preschool. “I at least get to decide when to save you from creeps and when to leave your love life alone. Trust me, you were in more danger than I ever was.”

“I reiterate, friends don’t get to decide those things.” He can see the insecurity swimming in your beautiful eyes. Yeah, you’re definitely at least somewhat drunk. You’d never argue with him like this if you weren’t. You’re also more than a little mad, and disgusted with yourself, and disappointed with your lack of charisma, and so jealous of the girl he probably tangled tongues with.

“What do I have to be, then, to get it through your thick skull? You know I love you. I’m just looking out for you.” His voice is softer, now, and sweeter, dripping from his mustache like honey.

He reaches out, and you cringe away. Love. It’s a word unspoken, one that’s been lingering on your mind since the day in seventh grade when he suddenly became attractive to you. Like most things, you assume it’s friendly. “Do you really love me if this is what you’re pulling? Say it like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

“I love you.” He states, taking your hands in his. This time, as you try to pull yourself from his grip, he holds on. “I love you.” He says again. It holds a certain weight that gets your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He’s firm but gentle, and he can feel the years of unspoken feelings bubbling on the tip of his tongue.

That’s when the guy from before decides to approach, sliding a hand uncomfortably down your waist. “I think you interrupted us, dude.”

Bradley drops your hands, and before the man can grab you even lower, he’s getting decked in the face.

He collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and cursing like a bitch. “Fuck you, what the fuck! Fuckin’ Navy piece of fucking shit.” You raise your hand to your mouth as he scrambles to get away. His blood leaves a scarlet trail of droplets in the sand.

“Bradley…”

“I just want you to be safe.” He mutters, like he didn’t just punch someone in the face for you. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, romantically, but I can’t stand seeing you with guys that aren’t as smart or good-looking as one fraction of your pinky toe.”

You reach up to his jaw, carefully, gingerly, before pressing your lips to his.

Like a scene from a movie, Fourth of July fireworks explode behind you, not unlike the fireworks going off in your mind. He has one hand on your waist and one hand on the back of your head, and neither make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s Bradley, and he makes you feel like the safest person in the world.

Your lips are soft, so soft. Bradley can practically hear his heart pounding in his ears as his body finally takes in the moment he’s been dreaming about his entire life. When you pull away, he misses the feeling, like the lost puzzle piece of his heart was stolen as soon as it was put back.

“You think my pinky toe is smart and good-looking?” You place a hand on his bare chest, teasing. He gives you the grin you’ve come to adore.

“Every part of you is. That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too. For more than your pinky toe, of course.”

“Oh,” he says, suddenly conscious of the self-satisfied look you shoot her, “y’know that girl I was talking to?” You raise your eyebrows questioningly as he nods his head at her. She sends a little wave, in which you notice a sparkling ring on her finger. “That, my love, is Reuben’s wife.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet as the embarrassment sets in, your cheeks growing warmer than the fire. You mouth a quiet “sorry” at her and she laughs, shooing your apology away with a gentle sweep of her hand.

“Is that why you went after Mr. Broken nose?” Bradley whispers in your ear. “That’s one hell of a way to make me jealous.”

You crinkle your nose as your face flushes impossibly warmer. “Not everything has an ulterior motive, Bradshaw.”

He looks perfect in this lighting, and to him, so do you. You can hardly believe that decades of friendship and tension and wishing led to this slightly improbable moment. You’re honestly glad you almost kissed a stranger.

“Yeah, but you’d best believe I do.”

He takes your hand in his and drops to one knee. Everyone turns to look at him, but for once, the only eyes that matter are yours. “Will you do me the honor of letting me be your lawfully appointed boyfriend?” You smile so wide you think your cheeks might split. You join him in the sand, holding his face in your hands and kissing his cheek.

“You really did mean it, huh, Brad?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes. It’s a definite, no-questions-asked, yes.”

[shhhsecretsideblog]

No Time To Hide

This was something I wrote for an Imagine You’re Pregnant prompt, original post here. Thought I’d make a side blog and post it here as well cos I really enjoyed writing this and might be tempted to write more birth fics

Eva opened the wooden window of her small cottage, letting the cool autumn air whip through her hair. The smell of woodland and damp grass filled her nostrils as she took a long, calming breath.

Describing herself as a green witch, Eva loved her little cottage hidden away from everyone deep within the rich forest. Coven life was never something that appealed to her; the idea of being constantly surrounded by other witches, their opinions and their magic, was torture for Eva. She much preferred her own company, free to live her life the way she wanted. Free to use her own style of magic, without the distraction or judgement of others. It was why she decided to live here in the heart of the forest. There was a river that flowed through the centre of the woodland, the ancient trees stood tall around her home, and the forest floor was packed with all manner of plant life. It was perfect; just her, the elements and Mother Nature.

Despite her preference of living alone, as time passed Eva began to yearn for something… it wasn’t romance or friendship, but the idea of a child. Children were never something she had considered, but as she grew older Eva had begun to see the benefit of having children. Someone to pass all her knowledge and wisdom to, someone to love and care for and share all that she’d learnt. She wanted to pass on this way of living, to create a legacy.

A few months ago, nine to be exact, she enchanted a local townsman - not that he would ever remember it. And now here she was, rocking side to side and cradling the underneath of her heavily pregnant stomach, preparing herself as birth drew near.

The cramps had started yesterday afternoon, small and barely noticeable at first. Eva had been terribly uncomfortable these last few weeks, suffering constant aches and twinges, so she did not immediately give them any thought. However when they got sharper and more frequent, forcing her to pause whatever she was doing, they soon got her full attention.

Not knowing how long this could take but knowing she would eventually lose mobily as her labour progressed, she collected all her preparations and got the supplies ready. Blankets, towels, sterilised medical equipment, all within easy reach in the main living room. Snacks and drinks lay available on the coffee table and a pot of hot water sat by the open fire keeping a constant warm temperature.

“Mmmnnngghhhhh” Eva moaned deeply as the latest wave peaked. She leaned forward resting her elbows on the window sill, jutting her hips back and swaying them slightly. The baby was low and heavy in her pelvis, the head pressing downwards as her body slowly opened up.

When the latest pain had eased Eva straightened and looked down at her swollen stomach, speaking lovingly towards her unborn babe. “You’re really coming aren’t you little one? I’ve not done this before so please take it easy on me.” Her child responded with a gentle kick prompting the witch to smile.

Over the next few hours Eva got into a good rhythm riding out the contractions, each one hitting sooner than the last and with incrementally more vigour. She paced, rocked, squatted, kneeled, trying to find any comfortable position to ride out the waves. Her low and heavy stomach made moving from position to position cumbersome; one hand staying on her bump or her lower back at any given time, while the other kept her supported on whatever furniture or surface was nearby.

As the contractions ramped up, creeping steadily towards unbearable, the witch’s teeth clenched tight and she growled behind them. Three minutes apart. Holding on to the back of her armchair Eva lowered herself into a deep squat. Sweat covered every inch of her body, her thin linen dress and underwear clinging to every curve of her fertile frame.

Her hips were in agony, the pressure building. She opened her mouth to wail but no sound came out, shocked into silence by a sudden burst between her open thighs. Immediately the pressure eased and Eva could catch her breath again. The wooden floor below her feet was soaked; her waters had broken.

“Oooooooh okay- We’re getting so close- Are you ready to come out now baby? I cannot wait to meet you.”

Eva stood up, cradling the curve of her spasming bump. Her bare feet stepped ungainly out of the puddle on the floor and she quickly threw a tea towel down to soak up the worst of it.

“It’s just you and me, little one. We can do this.” Eva reassured herself, rubbing circles around her swell, preparing for the intensity to soar now her waters had gone.

However, before the next contraction could strike the witch startled at the sudden loud interruption of ringing bells. Rapid and urgent, the piercing chimes echoed all around her cottage, howling through every room.

Witch hunter!

The enchantments set up around her hidden home in the forest hadn’t gone off in decades - she had almost forgotten the wards were still in place. And yet the incessant ringing immediately chilled her to her very bones, suddenly haunting her with long forgotten memories of the brutal murders of her fellow witches.

Her stomach clenched with a new, different sensation - fear. At any other time Eva would arm herself with weapons and potions and storm outside on the offence, making sure to take down her enemy before he had the opportunity to strike. But now… the pressing weight in her hips and the constant aching of her contracting womb showed she was in no position to attack, or even defend herself, if put up against a murderous witch hunter.

She had to get out of here. The warning bells throughout her home would soon reach the ears of the witch hunter and then he would beeline straight to her hidden sanctuary. She needed to find somewhere else to hide.

Distracted by the chimes, Eva was unprepared for the next contraction when it ripped across her body, rooting her to the spot. She doubled over in pain, palms planted firmly on her thighs.

“Unnnhhhhhhhhhhhh no-no-no-no……” she whimpered through strained breaths as the pain skyrocketed and her belly hardened. Panting heavily the witch ignored growing desire to bear down. Her waters had broken, she was probably almost fully dilated, if not already. But she couldn’t stay here. If she stayed, both her and her child would certainly be killed. She had to leave and find somewhere safe to deliver this baby.

After what felt like an eternity, the contraction finally faded and she bolted straight out the back door of her cottage, leaving barefoot with nothing but the clothes on her back. She had wasted precious minutes since the warning alarm riding out that last pain - she couldn’t afford to waste any more time gathering supplies to take with her. Eva took off as quickly as she could, disappearing deep into the lush green forest.

She barely got out of sight behind the first set of oak trees before another contraction was already upon her. Two minutes apart. Leaning against the rough bark of the nearest tree, Eva squeezed her eyes shut and tried hard to swallow the whimper creeping out her throat. The unbearable pressure was demanding in its silent request and her knees trembled with the effort of ignoring it. The baby was so heavy, and dangerously low. Feeling like it would just fall out if she took a step too wide. Yet she remained strong, persevering and weathering the storm in her uterus, determined to keep this baby inside of her until she got somewhere safe.

The second the pain let up an inch the witch was on the move again running as fast as she could across the forest floor. Over ferns and moss, rocks and fallen branches, thankfully the hardened soles of her bare feet were used to the uneven terrain. She made sure to keep off the main footpath and stayed hidden within the dense trees, but it made for more of an obstacle course than she’d like. With added weight of her labouring belly she couldn’t move at speed and on a few occasions nearly lost her balance. But deeper and deeper into the forest she went.

The trees became her allies, providing cover and support when she was forced to stop with each new powerful contraction… 90 seconds apart... 60 seconds apart. A large, ancient willow tree with an unusually curved trunk was the latest comrade in her fight for survival. Eva had pitched herself within the alcove of the trunk, out of sight and leaning back against the bark, lifting the weight of her hardened stomach with both hands. The long hanging branches brushed the forest floor in a circle around her position, hiding the witch behind a nature-made curtain.

“Grnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Eva could no longer hold in the animalistic sounds of her extremely advanced labour. The baby was right there, nestled deep in her widened cervix, desperate to be born.

“Nooooooooo-please-baby-wait-a-bit-moreeeeeee-” she begged through gritted teeth. The next contraction started before the current had even finished and the need to push was too powerful to refrain. Knees bending and thighs widening, Eva’s body pushed of its own accord.

It felt right, pushing. It was what she was meant to be doing - to follow nature's primal instinct. And yet she couldn’t forget the very real threat of the witch hunter, still hidden somewhere in this forest, poised and primed to kill her.

The fierce contraction continued to hold her hostage. A long grunt escaped her mouth as her body pushed along with the pain.

“I can hear you, witch!” A gravelled voice taunted from across the thick forest.

Eva’s eyes widened and immediately clamped her mouth shut, biting her lips together drawing blood. Half squatting against the tree, every muscle in her body continued to strain as it forced the baby lower and lower and lower. She couldn’t stop pushing even if she tried. One of the hands cradling her stomach shakily ventured south, lifting up her dress and feeling between her legs. Through the thin damp fabric of her underwear she could feel the baby’s head begin to enter the world.

She panted silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. The forest stretched out for miles, completely uninhabited in all directions; she was all alone. There was nowhere to go and no one to help. Heavily pregnant, being hunted, and seconds away from birthing this child.

A loud snap of wood echoed from a few metres away. Eva suddenly bolted like a startled deer, consumed entirely by fear and survival, and disappeared again into the thickened wood. She ran, wide legged, the heavy boulder of a baby’s head deep in her pelvis screaming to be born. Push! Her body cried out. Stop running and PUSH!

But she couldn’t. If she stopped she’d be dead.

Another contraction ripped through her as she ran. 30 seconds apart. Her muscles tensed and squeezed as she ran, her body trying to force the baby out despite the mother’s desire to hold on a bit longer. She could barely stay upright, the raw adrenaline no longer enough to keep this birth at bay. Her legs became jelly, all she could feel was pain and pressure and fear. Eva faltered, she couldn’t go any further. Out in the open she planted her hands against the nearest tree, widening her stance, and pushed. Hard.

“Mnnnnnnnrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!”

More of her baby’s head began to appear behind the fabric of her tight underwear.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh-Hecateeeeeeeeeeee!” she whimpered, praying to the deity.

Her baby was close to fully crowning, she could feel it. The white hot agony of being widened and stretched beyond anything she imagined made her eyes water and throat nauseous. She retched, a dry heave, and desperately tried to catch a breath through the dual need to push and the sudden urge to vomit. The texture of the rough bark beneath her palms was the only thing keeping the witch semi-grounded and preventing her getting swept away in the overwhelming sensations currently tearing her body apart. Still bracing the tree, Eva’s head dipped as she took slow deep breaths, ignoring the instinct to push in order to ride out the sudden nausea.

An ominous whistling sound drifted through the trees carried on the wind. Eva could barely hear it over the thundering beating of her heart, that is until she heard:

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The voice sang.

The witch hunter was close. But so was her baby... Eva felt between her legs again to evaluate just how bad her situation was. It was bad. Her underwear was stretched beyond repair as it housed a significant portion of her baby’s head, filling her cupped palm. Ignoring all the pain and her body’s pleas to push, she panted heavily and tried to think! She needed a plan to survive.

The witch hunter had physical strength, yes, but he did not know these woods like Eva did. This was her home, her sanctuary, and she knew every inch like the back of her hand. Beyond her laboured breaths and the unnerving whistling of the approaching witch hunter, Eva registered another sound nearby - the swooshing sound of running water. The river - she was by the river!

Lifting her head the witch frantically scanned the surrounding area, getting her bearings of where she’d ended up within the woodland. She was a few hundred yards from the river’s edge, about a mile from her cottage. It wasn’t an area she often visited because of…. That’s it! Okay, it wasn’t a great plan, and there was no way to know if it would work, but it was her only shot of survival.

She took a steadying breath through the current contraction squeezing her womb, fighting once more against the primal need to push. The baby’s head filled her underwear, millimetres from a full crown. If she pushed again there was no way she’d be able to stop until the head was fully born.

Whimpering through the pain Eva stood up straight, one hand staying between her legs, and she prepared herself to move. Just get to the river. She told herself before making her way unsteadily east.

The sound of rushing water grew louder as she stumbled slowly through the forest. One step. Another step. Nearly there. She knew exactly where to go, and where to avoid, desperately trying to stay focussed on her surroundings and not succumb to the agonising pain crowning between her thighs. Keep going.

“You can’t escape me, witch!” The voice threatened, getting closer.

Eva stumbled into the side of a tree, her bare shoulder scraping against the bark. Pausing, she took a brief moment to breathe through the pain. It was a mistake. The second she stopped to inhale deeply her body started bearing down again, forcing the baby down. Immediately the head came to a full crown in her damp underwear and she screamed.

“WITCH!” The murderous voice roared.

Eva turned and saw a flash of black leather through the distant trees, and it was coming her way. Cupping the baby’s head she tentatively wobbled forwards, knees trembling, staggering towards the riverbank. The blinding pain was constant, her eyes barely focussing. She had to make it to the exact right spot or her plan would certainly fail. Her footsteps were shaky but determined as she continued the last few carefully placed steps in her journey. Behind her the crunching sound of a disturbed forest floor drew ever closer.

Reaching the river’s edge Eva collapsed against the large boulder that sat on the grassy bank. She made it. Turning around against the stone, the cold granite pressed against her back as she faced the woods and waited for the imminent arrival of the witch hunter. But the baby’s head inched lower, her body stretched to its absolute limit. She wanted to cry, to howl, to scream. Instead she focussed inward, drawing on all the power from the earth under her feet, and taking a deep breath she finally, and intentionally, followed her body’s demands. Teeth gritted, a growl behind them, she pushed with everything she had. Her whole body trembled, bearing down against the pressure of the large round head slowly appearing between her thighs. The ears… a nose… she could feel it all. Her hands frantically scrambled under her dress and within seconds the baby’s head popped out into her underwear and she cupped it quickly within her palm. The relief was instant and for a brief moment Eva’s heart calmed as she held her child’s newly born crown.

The witch’s reprieve was short-lived as the approaching footsteps from behind one of the nearby trees resulted in another person soon entering the river's edge. The witch hunter was dark haired, full beard, but was not as athletic as Eva was expecting. There was sweat glistening on his temple and dripping down his neck, disappearing beneath a thick leather jacket. His mouth practically drooled at the sight of her and he gripped the long hunting knife in his hand. The lust for her death was haunting.

“At last… you’ve given it a good go, I’ll give you that, but you cannot escape your fate.” The man said as he took a step towards her, threateningly swishing the knife in readiness. “You are an abomination, evil incarnate. Witchcraft has no place here. My family has been taking your lot out for centuries. And it looks like I get the honour of not only killing you… but the next generation as well.” He glared at her pregnant swell.

“No- no! This- this child is innocent…” Eva panted, still holding the head of her half-born babe hidden under the draped fabric of her dress.

The witch hunter scoffed and took another two ominous steps in her direction through the fallen autumn leaves. Eva watched each step with a laser focus.

“No descendant of a witch is truly innocent.” He drawled, tilting his head with an unnerving animalistic incline. “Wickedness will run through its veins, there is no saving its soul.”

Eva couldn’t take her eyes off his feet, watching every step he took. She chose this location for a reason, knowing she needed to end up exactly here by the rivers edge - dangerously using herself as bait. His heavy boots crunched through the orange leaves, sauntering slowly towards her like he was toying with his prey. So close. Her heart stopped, breath held as Eva prayed to all the Goddesses for her plan to work. Then whoosh!

The witch hunter was suddenly hoisted in the air by his foot, caught in a primitive trap laid here many years ago by the previous inhabitants of these woods, whom were long dead and forgotten. The man roared as he was pulled sharply towards the sky, his arms flailing, the hunting knife falling from his hand in his shock.

Eva exhaled heavily and closed her eyes in pure relief. The steady thumping of heart pulsed around her body, beating once more now the immediate threat disappeared. The man yelled and shouted at her as he hung limply from the tree, but the sound barely registered with the witch. Her senses had been overtaken by the sudden movement of the baby, turning inside her, and an all too familiar urgent weight pressing down signalling her work was not yet over.

Eva tried to move but she was too far gone, too deep in labour, every muscle seemingly locked in position. “Unhhhhhhhh Hecate….. mnnnggghhhhh the baby- the baby is comingg…..” she whimpered, the pain splitting her in half as she was stretched once more with the baby’s shoulders. All her bodyweight was pressed back against the boulder, and she managed to sink towards the ground. Squatting deeply, her large rounded stomach rested heavily between her thighs.

“Ohhhh it’s coming…. I- need… mnghhhhhhhh I’ve got to… got to pushh...”

She ripped off her underwear as the next contraction started, freeing the baby’s head from the confines of the damp linen. With both hands ready to catch, the witch pushed with renewed determination. “Urghhhhhhhhhhhh!” One shoulder was out! Then the next shoulder. She took a breath, panting, holding the child dangling from her body. Eva became suddenly hyper-aware of the breeze and leaves, the nearby river and the crisp autumn air, all the elements surrounding them which her child was now being born directly into. Trembling, she beared down fiercely once more and within another few minutes a newly born witch entered the world.

Eva sobbed with relief, quickly pulling her daughter up over her stomach and placing her against her chest. The infant made a soft gurgling sound, her first breath, and then started to cry. To a new mother it was the most beautiful and reassuring sound in the world.

“Disgusting…. Filthy little vermin.” The witch hunter sneered with venom.

Eva had forgotten her audience and looked up with hatred at the man still swinging upside down from the tree. She held her baby tight and secure against her skin, as if shielding the child from the mere sight of him.

“You should drown that thing in the river.” He spat.

Red, blinding fury overwhelmed the new mother. With the pain gone and her baby safe in arms, pure fury raced through every pore of the witch’s body, consuming every atom of her being. Rising slowly, babe still clutched in hand, Eva approached the hanging man with eyes glowing with revenge.

“When I get free, I'm gonna enjoy splitting you from ear to ear!” He roared.

Her head tilted in observation watching the man’s disgusting arrogance in his determination to kill her despite still struggling against the rope binding his leg. Apparently unaware his threats were idle and his attempts to escape the trap were futile.

The witch bent down carefully to pick up the large silver blade that had fallen amongst the browning leaves. The man didn’t see the new mother pick up his weapon, and didn't notice the switch when the hunted became the hunter. Eva stalked silently, murderously towards the hanging man.

Before he could open his mouth to mock or belittle or challenge her, Eva’s hand swished past his vision in a flash, the blade gliding through the witch hunter's throat like a knife through butter. The man’s eyes widened, taking a heartbeat to register what just happened, before the cascade of blood erupted from the open wound and he began to choke and splutter.

Eva dropped the knife.

Delicately readjusting and shhhing the newborn cradled in her arm, she took one final look and started their journey back to the cottage. Eva found comfort in the sounds of the forest; of the flowing river, the whistle of a breeze, and the drip drip dripping of her enemies blood now pooling onto the forest floor.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

NSFW BLOG | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing: san x afab!reader | yunho x afab!reader (separate couples)

rating: 18+

word count: 0.9k

content/warnings: period sex, unprotected sex, pet names (pretty, baby, love), blood...eating?? (that's a bit dramatic. its a lick. it's yunho), yunho has a bit of a kink for this, ok? 💀

if you just wanna read about soft period sex you can just read san's 💀

notes: @ateez-main-yapper and i talked about this at length about a month ago and i finally decided to write about it 😭

ALSO i might make a series out of this format so if you have any ideas for [member] vs [member] in regard to different kinks or whatever please let me know!! 💗

San is completely down to fuck you when you’re on your period. 

He hates to see his baby in pain, and if he knows he has the ability to make you feel better, you better believe he’s gonna do it.

He’ll see you on the couch all mopey and sad and in pain, so he’ll crouch down to your level and kiss you on the forehead. “You doing alright, love.” And when you shake your head, he frowns a little. “Can i do anything to help?”

He’s apprehensive at first, not wanting you to feel like he’s pressuring you if you’re really not in the mood. But you just groan, “Sannie, everything hurts…” and he notices your breath catch slightly when he brushes your thigh with his fingers.

And when he suggests what he suspects is on both of your minds, you just look up at him with big eyes, “You’d be okay with that?”

He kisses your knuckles, “Of course. If it’ll make you feel better, I’d do anything.”

First, he’ll lead you to the bathroom and tell you to shower while he gets everything ready.

And he is so fucking serious about this. He grabs a couple of towels, and makes sure there’s a fresh set of sheets in the wash so he can change them when you’re done. He checks the room temperature so that it isn’t too warm or too cold. He turns the lights down so there’s only a soft glow in the room. And he even lights a candle on the nightstand. 

Ahen you’re finished with your shower he wraps you in his arms and leads you to the bed. Laying you down on one of the new fluffy towels he bought specifically for this occasion so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable on a scratchy old towel (and he’ll buy new ones once these lose their softness).

He’s so soft and gentle with you, too. Kissing every inch of your neck and chest. And he’ll reach up and grab your hand and hold it, rubbing your knuckles as he kisses your thighs. When he feels like you’re ready, he’ll crawl back over you, “Condom?” 

And he nearly melts when you shake your head and wrap your arms around his neck, “If it’s okay with you?”

He’ll just smile and kiss you softly, “Anything for my baby.”

And it’s like heaven when he sinks into you. Feeling your warm walls wrap around his cock. His thrusts are slow and steady, making sure he hits the right spot over time. His lips never leave yours as he fucks you so good. His hands secure your hips as your fingers tangle in his hair. 

Everything so warm and soft and gentle.

Yunho is absolutely down to fuck you when you’re on your period.

Just the thought of your squirming under him as he fucks the life out of your hot, bloody cunt makes his head spin.

He’ll see you doubled over in pain at the kitchen counter. Bent over and groaning at the discomfort. And he’ll try so fucking hard to be normal about it. Rubbing your back and asking if you’re okay. 

But he can’t. He can’t fucking do it. Seeing your ass stuck out at a perfect height for him to just grab and have his way with is so tempting. So he’ll come up behind you and grab your hips, pressing himself directly into your ass. 

And he’s not a monster so he’ll lean down to your ear and ask, “Is everything alright, pretty?”

He helps you stand up straight and wraps his arms around your waist from behind. You shake your head and lean back into his chest, “Yuyu…” you whine his name and he swears he’s gonna lose it, “Everything hurts.”

“Oh my baby,” he coos and slides his hand from your waist to between your legs where he can cup your pussy, “Will you let me help you?” And he swears he feels you grind into his hand. “Yuyu’s gonna make you feel so much better, ok baby?”

And he leads you to the bedroom and lays you down on the sheets. He’ll never bother with towels because he thinks they’re uncomfortable and he can just wash the sheets later. But when you’re naked under him he doesn’t have any control left in him.

He’ll run his hands over your hips and thighs, squeezing them in his hands, “Baby?”

“Yes?” And you look up at him with those teary, needy eyes.

“Can I fuck this pretty pussy raw?” He’ll run his pointer and middle fingers through your folds just to show you how good the skin-on-skin contact feels. And you shiver when he presses the tips of his fingers into you, “You like that?”

You nod, reaching up to grab his shoulder, “Please…”

“Ok, pretty,” He takes his fingers away from your folds and towards his lips, maintaining your eye contact as he licks the blood from his fingertips. He smirks down at you before removing his fingers and leaning down over you to kiss you so needily.

And he takes his sweet time, running the tip of his cock through your folds, watching how the head comes out red every time he teases your pretty pulsing cunt. Mesmerized by how easy it is for him to slide into you. Letting your blood coat the entirety of his cock when he sinks all the way in, the wetness of it driving him insane.

Everything so raw and needy.

general taglist: @swimmingkpopblog @oddracha @drinkingrumandcocacola @minaateez

ateez taglist: @certifiedmoa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @curiousgworge @hyukssunflower @hotteokisms

@sushiinmidnight @atiny-dime-p1ece @mismatchfluffysocks @vic0921 @vampzity

@breadpuddingboys @woolysium @desirehorizon @im-ovulation @pommelex

@dancingwithdeities @maidens-world @jycas @kirbrary @aftertherain-atr

@staytinyinmybpack

[therealcocoshady]

Ahhhh!! I love your stuff, you're so talented !!!

Could you write a Marshall x bookworm!female!reader oneshot abt reader always just having her head in books and Marshall wanting some attention please??

Thank youuu xx

More than me ?

Eminem X Bookworm!Female!Reader

Author’s Note : Hey ❤️. Thank you so much for your request ! I had some fun writing it ☺️. I hope you enjoy it !

No one expected a bookworm like you to end up with a rapper. On paper, it didn’t make much sense and yet, everyone around you agreed that Marshall was the perfect match for you. The two of you were somewhat nerdy, introverts who’d rather spend time in your house than go to a party with tons of people. And even if he didn’t read a ton of books, he made up for it by fully supporting your passion for literature. When you moved into his house, he let you transform one of the guest rooms into a library and he often surprised you with books on your wishlist. On special occasions, he would go the extra mile and gift you beautiful editions, sometimes first ones, much to your delight. And even though he politely refused your many offers to let him borrow some books, he was always happy to let you talk his ear off about books you liked.

- You should really read it, you said excitedly.

- Yeah but if I read it, there would be no point in you telling me about it, he said with a grin. I’d miss the best part.

- Sorry, you giggled. Is that too much ?

- Never, he said before pressing a kiss to your temple. I love that you’re passionate. I like listening to you. It’s like a podcast.

- You know, Shelly at the library keeps telling me to start one, you chuckled.

- Maybe you should give it a try, he replied. No one talks about books like you.

- Maybe I’ll ask Hailie for pointers, you shrugged.

This was the start of a crazy adventure for you. A year later, you were able to quit your job, relying on your podcast and advertisement to make a comfortable living. Advertisers were constantly soliciting you, willing to take advantage of your massive following. You had managed to gather a big community of bookworms such as yourself, who enjoyed hearing about your latest reads. It was your safe space and you simply loved it. Another perk was that publishing houses sent you tons of books for free, hoping you’d talk about them in an episode. Marshall’s house was big but you now had books in every room and always more books you needed to read. Your boyfriend was already used to always seeing you with a book but now, you had more time to read and were doing this full time. It wasn’t always sunshine and candy, though and, sometimes, you were on a schedule to finish reviewing a book before recording your next episode. At some point, you had decided to review a whole series that had been sent to you a week ago, and reading those eight books definitely took most of your time.

- Are you coming to bed ? Marshall asked.

- I have to read a couple more chapters, you said apologetically. Sorry, my love.

- You’ve spent the whole day reading, babe, he pointed out. How about you rest your eyes a little ? I could make them roll back into your skull…

- Are you propositioning me ? You asked with a grin.

- Absolutely, he replied with a smile. What do you think ?

- That’s tempting, you admitted.

Before you had even finished your sentence, he was grabbing your book, placing your bookmark, closing it and taking you to the bedroom. As soon as you reached the bed, he pinned you to the mattress and whispered in your ear.

- Been waiting for this all day, he said.

- All day ? You giggled. You were at work…

- And yet, you were the only thing on my mind, he grinned. Couldn’t think of anything else.

He made sure to show you exactly what had been on his mind, ravishing you in all sorts of positions, making you cry from pleasure, until you were both panting and exhausted.

- I love you, he said as he caught his breath. God, I missed you this week.

- I missed you too, you cooed. You’ve been working so hard, lately.

- So have you, he pointed out.

- I have to keep busy while you’re finishing your album, don’t I ? You giggled.

- Well, you have me to yourself for the next two days, he said. Told the team not to bother me unless someone dies. I’m all yours. And we’re not leaving this room.

- Interesting, you giggled. I have some work, though.

- You can read chapters in between rounds, he shrugged before burying his head in your neck.

You smiled and enjoyed his touch, the warmth of his breath on your skin. You ran your hands in his back and stroked his head. Moments later, he was asleep. His soft snores brought a smile to your face and you figured he needed the rest. Lately, he had been waking up extra early and coming home later than usual, occasionally going to California to work with Dre. You gently made him roll to his side of the bed and wrapped yourself in your silk robe before going back to your reading room and resuming your reading. Hours later, a grumpy boyfriend came to get you.

- You left, he groaned sleepily.

- You were sleeping, you said with a smile.

- Well, not anymore, he said. Come back ?

- I just have to finish this-

- Later, woman, he groaned.

- Ten minutes, you pleaded.

- Babe, he sighed. It’s 11PM.

- Yeah but-

- I need you, he said with puppy eyes. You don’t want me to get all lonely in bed, now, do you ?

You smiled at him, yet made a point of shaking your head in disapproval. He knew full well his lost puppy act would get him anywhere with you. You closed your book and went back to the bedroom. As soon as you got back in bed, he wrapped you in his arms, in a possessive stance. You chuckled and whispered sweet nothings before drifting off to sleep.

You woke up the next day to the sound of Marshall entering the room with a breakfast tray in his hands.

- Breakfast in bed ? You yawned with a smile. What’s the occasion.

- I thought we might enjoy a lazy day in bed, he said with a smile. You, me, food and movies ?

- Sounds good, you nodded.

He settled in bed next to you and you ate the copious amount of food he had prepared. You spent a few hours in each other’s arms, watching movies and cuddling. Marshall seemed exceptionally clingy, which made you smile. Physical touch had always been one of his love languages, but it was rare for him to spend hours on end cuddling. After a while, though, you decided to get back to reading. However, you didn’t find your book where you had left it.

- Babe, have you seen the book I had yesterday ? You asked. It’s blue, with flowers on the cover.

- I haven’t, he shrugged. Come here, you’ll find it later.

- I really have to finish, you said. I’ll go and search…

- Babe, he groaned, can’t we just have a few hours together ? I’ll help you search for it. Later.

- Ok, you shrugged. But it’s important.

He sighed and gestured for you to come back in his arms. He didn’t pay a lot of attention to the movie, though, and just enjoyed your presence until he fell asleep. Or so you thought. Because as soon as you moved, he let out a grunt.

- What ? He asked.

- Just going to search for my-, you began.

- Screw it, he groaned. Here’s your damn book.

He reached for his nightstand and handed it to you. You looked at him in disbelief.

- You realized I’ve searched for it for half an hour ? You asked.

- Yeah well here it it, he groaned.

- Why did you take it ?

- Because I want you to be with me, he sighed. It’s all about your books, these days.

- I’m working, you said defensively. It’s my passion !

- Yeah well why don’t you move into your reading room then ? He suggested. You like these books more than me anyway.

You sighed and then put the book down before taking his hand.

- What’s with you today ? You asked.

- Nothing, he shrugged with a frown.

- Marsh, you said tentatively. You’re short-tempered and clingy. Clearly, something’s wrong.

- I miss you, he sighed. That’s all.

- I’m right here, you pointed out. I even work from home. I’m literally always here.

- I like that you’re having fun but… you work too much, he said.

- I do work a lot, but it’s because I want to be successful, you said. And you’re one to talk. You’re a literal workaholic.

- Yeah well I’m tired of all this work and I want to hug my girl, he said. I’m stressed out and I need you.

You smiled and kissed his cheek before putting your book away.

- You know you could just have told me you needed me, right ?

- I guess, he said grumpily. I guess I didn’t want to sound like a total simp.

- I like it, you said. It’s cute.

- So you’re staying, this time ? He asked.

- Of course, babe, you replied. If you need me, that’s my priority. But… is there something wrong ?

- Nothing, he said. I guess I’m just under pressure. I just need you. You’re my safe space. I miss you, lately. And now that you have this shit ton of followers, you don’t even tell me about your books. I miss that too.

You nodded and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

- I’m sorry, my love, you said. I just got really into all of it. But you’re my priority, you know ?

- Am I ? He asked.

- Of course, you replied.

- I love you, he said. Sorry I stole your book.

- Next time you try that, I’m messing up with your cassette wall, you threatened.

- You wouldn’t ! He gasped.

- Try me, you said with a raised eyebrow. Who knows ? Maybe all of them are in the wrong case. Maybe I’ve already done it.

He looked at you nervously and you gave him a threatening smirk. Knowing how much he cherished that cassette collection it was enough of a threat and a sure fire way to mess with his head. He groaned and got up.

- Where are you going ? You asked.

- To check my cassettes, he said.

- What ? You asked in a falsely offended voice. If you go, it means you love them more than me !

- Babe… of course I love them more, he said with a grin. Know your place, woman !

Note : I hope you enjoyed this one shot ❤️. If you did, you can support my writing via Ko-Fi ! I will also be giving previews of upcoming parts of Recovery and Love Game over there 😏.

[beenbaanbuun]

Hai there! :3

Hope youre having a lovely day/night! I wanted to say I love your works!

I’ve been following your opposites attract universe and I have to say I love it so so sooooo much!! Its just so sweet and beautifully written! Addams! matz is now my roman empire.

I have a question though after reading the fight and the apology parts of the story, since hongjoong basically NEVER yells but did in fact yell at darling, do you think darling for a good period of time would be a bit distant from joong? Like she’s knows she’s forgiven but would she be too scared to make a similar mistake? Cause if it were me where I was able to make someone who never gets mad, mad. I would know I FUCKED up big time and I’d be so nervous to be around them 😭

If Darling does somewhat become a bit distant how would Hongjoong react to that too? Like would guilt practically eat him alive? 😭

Thats all! Thank you again for your works I love reading them!! 💕

i was going to reply to this like it was just a simple question but i must write………..

not proofread yet

as you stand outside hongjoong’s office, you can’t help but feel your heart beating a mile a minute. it’s silly, you know that, and yet you can’t help but hesitate. he’s on the other side of that door, after all, and try as you might, you simply cannot let things go back to normal. it’s only been a few days, yet you haven’t crossed the threshold into that room even once. you’ve barely even spoken to hongjoong, in fact. apart from mealtimes and night when he cannot go without you in his arms, you opt to stay far out of his way. it’s not that you want to, but instead you feel like you have to.

it’s for your own peace of mind.

except this time you can’t. this time, you’re under strict instructions from seonghwa to fetch hongjoong for dinner. he knows what he’s doing, the corners of his mouth tilting up in an annoying smile after you tried to come up with some excuse as to why you had to avoid hongjoong. clearly none of them worked since here you are.

you knock, three light taps against his door so as not to irritate him too much. he’s working, after all, and you know better than to get in his way while he’s working. “come in, dove,” he calls, surprising you as he refers to you by name; how could he tell from a knock alone?

the brass doorknob is cold as you push the door open tentatively, your feet remaining firmly at the threshold. it’s a surprise to see him turned away from the desk, eyes already upon you before you even fully reveal yourself. there’s a smile on his face, soft and delicate as though he’s gazing upon something beautiful. he’s gazing upon you, but standing before him with your bottom lip tucked neatly between your lips and your thumbs picking at one another, it’s hard to feel like you’re anything but worrisome.

a hand rests upon his lap, fingers drumming lightly upon the thick black fabric of his slacks. the seat he flaunts looks oh-so-tempting, but you refrain from taking it. from closing the gap and shoving your face in his neck like you’ve been craving to these past few days. he always smells so nice; warm spices and home.

“how could you tell it was me?” you ask as you shuffle from foot to foot in his doorway. his smile grows wide as he studies you.

“seonghwa enters immediately after knocking, yeosang wouldn’t be visiting me, and you,” he pats his lap twice, your favourite seat becoming just that more tempting. still, you somehow manage to hold yourself back, “well, you never knock but since you’ve been avoiding me—”

“i have not!” you squark, eyes going wide and feet finally carrying you forward into the lions den. your hand slips from the door it had been holding open, and the slam of it shutting lets you know that you are in fact trapped. there’s no escape from hongjoong now without it being plainly obvious that you are in fact avoiding him, although that seems to be a fact he’s already grown wise to.

hongjoong seems to be aware of that fact too, as the moment the door encloses the both of you in the confines of his office, he taps his lap yet again. this time, you almost break.

“you see, if you weren’t avoiding me, you’d already be in my lap,” he tuts at you, relaxing himself in his chair and letting his legs spread. as sweet as the spot on his lap looks, you must admit that the one between his thighs is equally as enticing. you could sit there for hours just staring up at him in wonder.

you take yet another step into the room, more than happy to deny yourself the pleasure of his lap, less happy to remain so far away from him. you might be avoiding him, but you can’t deny yourself the simple pleasure of seeing his pretty face up close. the sly smile he wears when he teases you is admittedly beautiful, even if it does annoy you to no end.

“maybe i just don’t want to sit in your lap right now,” you argue, to which he responds with a scoff. rightfully so; if you’re going to lie you should at least try and make it believable. “or maybe i just don’t want to get in trouble with seonghwa by making us late for dinner.”

another chuckle, although you suppose this one is even more deserved than the first. you’ve never had a problem flaunting seonghwa’s orders and rules before, so why start now? defeated, you give him a deep sigh.

“come here, dove,” he says through his amusement, adoration laced through every word he speaks. you take another few steps closer, although not as close as it seems he desires you to be.

hands wrap themselves around your hips, tugging lightly at your body until your stumbling forwards into hongjoong’s grasp. they move around your body quicker than you can squirm free of them, pulling and pushing at your limbs until you’re arranged exactly how he wants you, straddling his lap with your hands resting tentatively upon his shoulders. it takes just a few seconds for his arms to snake themselves around your waist, locking you in place.

his head is tilted in such a way that he can appreciate the sheepish look you wear. the way your eyes look anywhere but his own, and the way your jaw ticks in something akin to agitation, although hongjoong knows you far too well to assume that that really is the case. if you were agitated, your pretty lips wouldn’t be pressed into a pout, they’d be forming cute little insults that hongjoong would have to try his hardest not to find sweet. if you really were agitated, hongjoong would know better than to tighten his grip until you have no choice but to lay with your torso flat against his.

you don’t even resist when he traces a finger up your spine to the nape of your neck. it tangles itself with the strands of hair that twist around another, soothingly tugging on them. it doesn’t take much more than that for you to finally relax against his frame, sinking into the warmth his body offers you.

“i wasn’t avoiding you,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

“liar,” he murmurs back.

“i wasn’t!” you insist, “i just… i didn’t know what to do around you. you never yell but—”

“i did.”

you hum in agreement, “you did.”

hongjoong’s arms get tighter around you as though he’s afraid you might slip away unless he holds on tight. you don’t mind; the pressure is honestly quite nice. it helps melt your inhibitions, your fear of telling hongjoong exactly how you feel. you shouldn’t be scared when it’s quite obvious how much the man adores you.

“it felt like something changed between us,” it doesn’t feel so hard to admit that when you’re in his arms, “i didn’t want to do anything that might change it even more.”

you’re met with a few seconds of silence; it’s hard to discern whether it’s comforting or anxiety inducing, yet you’re more than happy to sit in it. if hongjoong needs to take a breather before responding then you’re happy for him to do that. you’d much rather sit uncomfortably for a few seconds than have him raise his voice at you again.

although something inside of you tells you that it’s unlikely for that to happen again.

“you’re silly, dove,” he finally responds, forever taking place in just those few seconds. “the only thing that changes between us is how much i adore you, and that continues to grow and grow each time i see your face.”

“it can’t have grown much these last few days then,” you comment, “you’ve barely seen me…”

“oh, but i have,” he says it as if it’s obvious, “i see you every time i close my eyes. whenever i blink, you’re there, saying something cheeky to seonghwa that you know will get you into just the right amount of trouble to get you what you want,” he brings you closer still, his grip so tight that you’re certain your ribs might crack under the pressure, “so yes, darling, my love for you has grown exponentially these past few days.”

you can’t help but let yourself smile, tucking yourself into that sweet spot between his chin and his shoulder to hide it. he smells so good, just like he always he does, and you pull a deep breath in through your nose. cinnamon and home fills your senses and you realise that no matter how hard you try, you can’t stay away from hongjoong for long.

he’s just as much your home as seonghwa is.

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 17

a/n: thank you to @bahablastplz for editing. check out her writing if you haven't already! she's amazing.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter sixteen here ]

Chapter Seventeen: Of Futures & Flights

Lee Know was right—your least favorite string of words in the English language. Hyunjin will be going to Korea for winter break and now your only option is to see what Chan has planned. You knock on the door to his room before entering. He’s sitting at his desk, laptop in front of him. He turns to face you as you enter. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips when he sees you and you immediately feel your face flush. 

“Hey,” you say meekly. 

Lately with just one look from him you’re overcome with flashbacks of being handcuffed to his bed. And he knows it. It hadn’t been awkward or uncomfortable in the days that followed, but he certainly was finding a lot of joy in catching your eye from across the room and winking or smirking. He always got a kick out of your reaction. 

“Hey,” he replies smoothly.

You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge, facing him.

“I wanted to ask about your plan for winter break,” you cut straight to the chase. “Are you going to visit your family?”

“Maybe. Why?” he asks, crossing his hands in front of his chest as he leans back in the chair. “Got a more tempting suggestion?”

Of course, he must already have some idea why you’re here. Lee Know or Hyunjin could have mentioned it. But he wants to hear you ask anyways.

“I want to use the trip I won around that time and Hyunjin is going home, so…”

“So…I’m your backup?”

“N-No,” you stutter. Though you can’t deny how it must come off from his point of view. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, not taking his eyes off you. “Where you planning to go?”

“I was thinking somewhere warm, like Miami. I’ve never been.”

“And you actually want me to go with you?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. “You could take one of the other members.” 

Is he suggesting that you should choose someone else? That he doesn’t want to go with you? He does so damn well at playing serious when he’s messing with you, you can never tell.

“I’d prefer to spend it with you…”

“Since Hyunjin isn’t available?”

“Chan.” you sigh. 

He chuckles at your exasperation and gives up. 

“I’ll go.”

You wish you had something nearby on the bed to hit him with. Internally you’re jumping for joy. 

The next day, you’re in the kitchen with plastic gloves on your hands. Hyunjin’s long body is laying on the marble countertop, feet hanging off the edge, head over the sink with a folded towel under his neck for support. He has hands clasped in the center of his chest. A bottle of black hair dye sits next to the faucet as you work your fingers through his newly darkened locs to rinse it out.

You keep turning your head to the side as you work, trying to fully picture him with dark hair as you’ve only ever seen him as a bleached blonde. The darker strands definitely look more natural on him and enhance his features.

It’s finals week and you’ve decided to take a break from reading to help Hyunjin out. The house has been relatively calm lately as everyone cracks down on studying. Some go at it alone, others pair up to quiz each other. 

“Would your parents really lose their shit if you came home with blonde hair?” you ask, turning the water off when the black dye has finally stopped dripping.

“Yeah ,” he replies. “And that’s an understatement. My dad would behead me, then drag my headless body around before letting me show up at company events like that. It’s ‘unprofessional’,” he says, using air quotes.

He jokes about it so casually, but it makes you wonder what their parents are like. It’s so different to the supportive upbringing you had. Well, it is supportive in a way—their parents are doing what they believe is best for their child’s future. It just seems like it doesn’t leave room for them to be themselves once they return home.

You know, from talking to Han, the general idea of what’s expected of them after graduation. You previously assumed, though, that just meant a continued sexual relationship was off the table. After what Lee Know said, you now understand that you are forbidden to have contact with them at all.

As you’ve grown more curious about it, Hyunjin has been rather receptive of your prying questions. When you asked why he was so open, he mentioned the NDA in that cursed contract you skim read through in desperation all those weeks ago.

“So do you immediately start working after you graduate?” you ask, taking off the plastic gloves and setting them aside.

“Not straight away. There will be a few months spent doing whatever I want…traveling, probably. Then I’ll work directly under my father. Essentially until he’s ready to retire or trusts that I won’t fuck up the family business.”

This feels like such a heavy topic, but Hyunjin grazes over it with ease. Like it’s not a big deal. From his perspective, maybe it isn’t. He’s known the path his life would take since he was very young. They all do. There isn’t much to guess or worry about like most of us. Hell, it doesn’t seem like they get to choose much of anything for themselves. Your thoughts drift to Chan for a second as you wring the water out from Hyunjin’s hair. 

You take the towel from under his head and guide him to sit up so you can dry it.

“And when it comes to love and marriage and children and all that…what sort of freedom do you have?”

Hyunjin makes a face like he’s going to throw up at your words. You roll your eyes and throw one end of the towel at him, so it covers his dramatic face.

“Come upstairs,” you say as you walk out of the kitchen.

When you’re both back in his room, after he stopped to grab his blow dryer, you have him sit in his desk chair. You stand behind him, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So…marriage, love? What’s that look like for you guys?” you ask again.

“At some point I’ll be encouraged to date, then marry. Exclusively from a list of women vetted by my parents,” he tells you.

You chew on your bottom lip; thankful he’s not looking directly at you. From your perspective, it all sounds concerning the more you learn, but you know it’s not your place to speak on it. What is there for you to even say? They’ve probably all already come to terms with it. Would your opinion even matter? In the grand scheme of things, you living with them this year is just a blip on their radar.

“Like an arranged marriage?”

“Kinda,” he says nonchalantly. “I will have some say in it, though.”

You turn on the blow dryer, using it as a distraction to sort through the thoughts arising from the information he provided.

Hyunjin previously mentioned the main function of the SKZ house was to provide them the ability to focus on their studies without allowing love and romance to distract them. Having a dedicated girl each year to meet their needs…to take care of them in more ways than one. It’s almost like this is a trial run for their futures. Though, from the sounds of it, the women vetted by their parents will probably also come from wealthy families and possess the feminine qualities they desire in a daughter-in-law. Certainly no one like you.

You grew up fairly well–your mom and dad played active roles in your upbringing. They were able to dote on you as an only child and you don’t recall ever wanting for much. You weren’t poor, but nowhere near the level of wealth their families have amassed. They supported you with all they had and there was never much fuss or drama. You’ve always been a good kid with your head on straight–focused on your own dreams and goals.

Having gotten to know Hyunjin the past couple of months, you know one day he will make an amazing husband. He’s gentle when needed, thoughtful, caring and extremely empathetic, while still maintaining his masculinity. Which makes him even more attractive. Chan, on the other hand…

You feel a sharp pain in your chest–maybe Chan is holding back with you because he’s saving himself or really only willing to open up to his future wife. That hurts to think about. 

You turn the blow dryer off and sit it on the desk. Hyunjin reaches out for your hand and pulls you around the front of the chair. You sit on his lap, straddling him and cupping his face with your hands.

You take in his new appearance. His blow-dried hair looks full and fluffy, and it’s grown a lot in length, reaching beneath his collar bones. The dark hair looks good on him—it gives meaning to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ trope.

“What happens if you don’t like anyone on the list?”

“They’ll compile another one,” he shrugs.

“That seems unfair,” you reply. “What if you meet someone organically and fall in love?”

“I could date them,” he says, hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. “But nothing would come of it.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

He considers the question for a beat.

“Not in the way you might think,” he replies.

“Well, I think anyone would be right to be bothered at having so little say in the outcome of their life…”

“I don’t mind that aspect of it. Being on this path ensures I will live a good life,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“What’s your take on it, then?” you ask, making note that he said good life and not happy.

“I’ve never been fond of the ‘forever partner’ idea.”

You lean back a little, sliding your hands down to his shoulders. You’re a little surprised at his words. The kind, caring and doting Hyunjin? Does not believe in soulmates? 

“I have no problem being committed and dedicated to one woman at a time, but…forever?” he asks rhetorically. “I think we’re meant to connect on a deep level with a lot of people at different times in our lives. Do you know how many people there are on this planet? And I’m supposed to find a lifelong match from a list? To meet all my needs, even as they change over time?”

You can completely understand, and have experienced, his commitment and loyalty in the way he immediately opened up to you and was there for you. But maybe this experience has made him grow accustomed to having a new woman in his life every year. 

“New people make things exciting and fresh,” he continues as he slips his thumbs beneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing circles against your skin, “…how you meet, learning about them, being intimate with them.”

You had never taken him for the playboy type. Though the way he’s explaining it doesn’t sound like he will be running around trying to fuck anything that walks. Just that he’d prefer to entertain the idea of a woman without any real commitment for certain stretches of time, for the rest of his life. 

“So you worry you’ll become bored?” you ask. 

“Maybe,” he answers honestly, as always. “I don’t doubt my ability to remain faithful—to be a good dad and husband when the time comes. But I do want to take my time getting there. I’m in no rush. Maybe in 30 years or so.”

You roll your eyes at that.

“I cannot with you,” you say, reaching your hands up to run them through his newly darkened locs. You tug on the strands, and he tilts his head back, shutting his eyes. 

His hands fall from your hips to cup your ass. In one swift move he stands, holding you to him as he walks towards the bed. You rest your forehead against his, and nuzzle his nose.

“Well. I certainly can with you.” He gives your lips a peck with his before tossing you onto the bed. 

You squeal as you land, then start moving backwards on the bed. You can’t help but smile and giggle as he crawls towards you. His dark, fluffy hair falls in front of his eyes and he looks so fucking sexy as he looks down at you.

“Where you going, jagiya?” He asks, straightening his back but still on his knees. He reaches for your leg. “Two weeks without you? We have to make up for the time we’re losing.”

You let out another squeal as he grabs your leg and pulls you towards him. He places his arms on either side of you, caging you in, in the best way possible. You hook your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you. 

After finals are done, it feels like there’s less tension in the house. Everyone’s interacting again versus being huddled up in a corner studying. The house steadily becomes empty as those who are going away for break take their leave. You drop Hyunjin at the airport and try not to think of what it will be like when you have to say goodbye to him for good.

Soon enough, it’s your turn to get dropped off at the airport. Jeongin and Charlotte wave goodbye to you and Chan. They’ll both have the house alone until Jeongin leaves for Korea and you can only imagine what they’ll get up to. You make a mental note to sanitize every communal surface when you get back. 

In the airport, you and Chan barely speak. He has his headphones on and keeps a blank expression plastered to his face. The last couple days his mood seemed to turn sour, and you have no idea what caused it. You have an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach–this is exactly how you did not want to spend the trip.

You busy yourself with checking the destination on your ticket multiple times. With Lee Know in charge of organizing this trip, you couldn’t be sure enough that he hadn’t booked you a flight to Miami, Oklahoma instead of Miami, Florida. 

A few hours later, you and Chan are settled into your business class seats. A few minutes after takeoff, you finally release his hand you’d been clutching for dear life. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, watching him stretch his fingers out. 

He reclines his seat a bit and shifts around to get comfortable. He leans back in the seat and closes his eyes. You lift the window shade and look out at the clouds as you fly through them, trying your best to tame your annoyance. 

You don’t know how long passes, but being an overthinker you’ve gone through several scenarios and outcomes about how this trip could crash and burn if you don’t say something now. You can’t just let his silence go unchecked. You refuse to spend your vacation, that he agreed to come on, this way. You reach over to move his headphones from his right ear. 

“Chan,” you begin, “I haven’t had a real vacation, alone and not with my parents, in almost two years so I’m really looking forward to this, but…”

He’s absentmindedly chewing on his bottom lip as he listens. 

“You’ve been in a shitty mood the last couple days. I want this to be a good trip, I want us to have fun…if you were planning to be miserable, you really didn’t have to come.”

“Planning to be miserable?” He repeats. 

“Your sudden change in attitude?” You shrug. “I would have rather rescheduled the trip, if you were going to be like this. And don’t say like what—you know how you’re treating me.” 

He becomes quiet at your words. You feel proud of yourself for getting them out. There’s no way he doesn’t realize when he’s shutting you out. You look away from him, seeing the stewardess start coming down the aisle with her cart. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I wanna take this trip with you, y/n, I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“You always say that,” you shake your head. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he replies. 

You let out a soft sigh. 

“Well, isn’t that what vacations are for?” you ask. “You can travel somewhere far away and leave all the bullshit behind. Forget about school…the future,” you look away from him at that, “you can be someone entirely different when you get to your destination. For a little while, anyway.”

He mulls your words over. 

“Is that what we’re doing?” He pulls his headphones down, so they hang around his neck. 

It certainly hadn’t been your intention, but you spot the sudden playful glint in his eyes and nod your head. You want to smack him. Or yourself. You cannot figure out if it’s him and his bad mood that causes the tension, or you allowing him to sulk in it instead of confronting him about it. 

“And who are we pretending to be?” 

You shrug, “Hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

The stewardess stops next to him with her cart, smiling as she opens the cabinet and produces two champagne flutes. She then fills them up with wine. She hasn’t even asked your drink choice, so you assume she’s preparing it for the pair across the aisle. When she politely reaches over Chan to pull out your tray and sits the drink down, you throw a confused look at him. 

Maybe it’s complimentary…but still, wouldn’t she ask if you wanted it?

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “We didn’t ordered this…could I just get a Sprite?”

“Oh, of course, dear,” she says, but still proceeds to pull out Chan’s tray and sits a drink in front of him too. “These drinks are free to you, on behalf of the flight crew. Congratulations on your engagement–future Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

You stare and blink, dumbfounded. 

Chan clicks his tongue and mutters something in Korean under his breath. 

“Thank you,” he says with a tight-lipped smile. 

“My pleasure,” she replies. “What else can I get you, sir?”

“Water, please,” he tells her. 

She provides you both a cup filled with ice, and your requested Sprite and water before turning to assist the pair on the other side of the aisle. 

“I’m gonna fucking strangle Lee Know,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, he’s the first call I’m making when we land,” he concurs. 

The man can’t even be trusted to book flight tickets without some kind of shenanigans attached to it. 

Chan picks up his wine glass and sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. 

“I guess we have our roles,” he says, tilting the rim of his glass towards you. 

You grab your own, but don’t cheers his yet. 

“I don’t know…I was thinking more along the lines of coworkers on a business trip or annoying vloggers or something like that,” you tell him. 

“So you wanna call off the engagement already?” He asks, feigning a hurt look. 

It never ceases to baffle you–how quickly he can go from cold and distant to warm and teasing you. And vice versa. 

“You’re okay with pretending to be my fiancé?” 

He shrugs, “It could be fun. It’ll help take my mind off some things.”

“Really?”

“I’m a committed actor. Very convincing…don’t you remember?”

Of course you remember his stint as Professor Bang. You wouldn’t mind taking a class with him again. But this? Chan pretending to be your fiancé? After your talk with Hyunjin, you know you won’t ever know what it’s like to actually even date him. Let alone fathom marrying him. 

“Okay,” you reply, choosing to indulge. You tap your glass against his before taking a drink. 

You’re so happy that the dark cloud looming over him seems to have dissipated, that it doesn’t even cross your mind how much you might regret this later. Having a sample of this version of Chan? It’s like you’re setting yourself up to get hurt. But you’ll keep telling yourself you’re strong enough to remember it’s not real. That when the time comes to say goodbye to this man, you won’t think about these moments and what could have been. You’ll keep lying to yourself this entire trip.

[ read chapter 18 here ]

a/n: the chan we've been dying to experience is almost here. thank you all so much for your continued support. your feedback, comments, asks, reblogs, etc., ALL your interactions fill my heart with happiness. it encourages me to write more because i don't want to leave you all hanging for too long lol but seriously, tysm!

taglist: i have no idea why it's not letting me tag everyone. i know there's a limit of tags per post but even if i type less than the limit, it's not working :( tagging on hiatus til I can figure it out, i'm sorry.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

HAUNTED

Pairing.| Jackson Ripnner x fem!reader

Summary.| The way you haunt Jackson’s body, mind and soul always fuels him with adrenaline to show you who you belong to.

Warnings.| p in v, 69, rough sex.

Word Count.| 3k

Notes.| Inspired by Haunted by Beyonce. Also, this isn't noncon or dubcon, wild. I can't stop writing for Jackson even if I wanted to, sorry.

When you laid eyes on him, your heart skipped a beat and cheeks automatically turned a shade darker. Even though you knew he would be here, the proof being the combination of his captivating blue eyes and shaggy brunette hair set your sensations ablaze. Even though he was sitting across the room, legs spread on the bar stool, Jackson had no shame in watching you. He always wanted to be seen by you. His typical, simple matching black trousers and jacket, with a white shirt poking out underneath always did wonders on you. 

The man with his arm draped around you would be dead on the spot if he went any further. But the idea of seeing how far Jackson would go for you certainly felt tempting after how many glasses of champagne you’ve already consumed this evening. Even though he kept his appearances composed, you just knew he was a unhinged maniac when fueled by desire. 

You continued on with your night, engaging in conversation with a small group of friends of yours. There was no rush, you were staying at the hotel the venue was in. You enjoyed your night, more importantly you enjoyed the set of eyes that burnt through the back of your skull. As you took your last sip and straightened out your silk red dress, you farewelled to your friends and departed without another word. 

He had disappeared from the bar now, a knowing smirk grew on your lips. The both of you managed to travel often, for distinctively different reasons, but you just knew he wouldn’t not appear in Paris, the city of love.

When you entered the elevator, you didn’t acknowledge how Jackson was already in there, all leant up in the corner as his eyes nibbled on every bare inch of your skin. The silence was loud, tension almost piercing. It was a shock that neither one of you pounced onto the other like a starved tiger. You can’t say that it hadn’t happened before. 

You sway down the hallway. There was no discretion, he was following behind you as if you were dating. As you opened your room door, you kept the door open with your fingertips only for a second before he caught the heavy wood from locking him out.

Before you could even place down your glitter purse, Jackson slammed your front to the wall, his body pressed against you in a hungry manner as he inhaled your sweet scent. He was completely obsessed with how rough he could be with you. Never once had you complained, whined, acted like a little brat. You were his good girl despite your confident front. 

“I warned you not to fall in love with me” you chuckled, cherry lipstick smudging against the plaster. His rough hands gripped onto your hips.  

“What makes you think I’d do such a silly thing?” Jackson chuckled back.

“You came, did you not?” You remarked confidently. 

Jackson snickered softly and pressed his lips to your warm cheek as his hands massaged your ass. It was without question how your back was arched and your neck craned back. As he nuzzled the side of your face with his nose, he breathed out. 

“You send an invite in the mail or something?” Jackson teased quietly. 

“I know you stalk me, watch my every move practically” you stated, in almost a tone of pride.

“It’s hard not to” Jackson admitted shamelessly.

You were in his dreams every night. Haunting him with the thought of your touch. Every night he couldn’t fall asleep quick enough to feel you, relive your perfect moments together. Everytime he woke up, he initially believed he could feel you in the sheets. It was a major distraction at work, he couldn’t lie. Yet you were motivating him to get the job done so he could find his way back to you. 

“Did you miss me?” You asked flirtatiously as he led you to the white king sized bed. 

“I’m here, aint I?” Jackson replied bluntly as he slid off his jacket. 

You fell onto the bed and smiled. His denial of emotions and vulnerability was always cute. You haunted him in that way, the idea of wanting to be welcomed angered him. The misogynistic front always leaked his desperate need for comfort and warmth. You were certain that if you were to disappear from the face of the earth, he’d be driven into an emotional insanity whilst looking for you until the day he died. 

“You haven’t cashed in any of my checks yet” Jackson almost snorted as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

“I don’t need your money Jackson” you sighed as you bent over to unlatch your heels. 

However, he stopped you by dropping to his knees. As he smiled to you softly, he unbuckled the thin straps and slipped off your shoes. All whilst making sure to have his fingers brush against your skin. He slipped off his own shoes

“Don’t say something cheesy like I just need you” Jackson chuckled, his eyes swiftly snapped up to catch your initial reaction. 

“Never” you grinned. 

“Good” Jackson nodded, a satisfied look on his lips. 

Within a snap, Jackson had pounced on top of you, pinning you effortlessly to the bed. His eyes were two tiny clouds of lust and arousal as his mouth quickly watered at the idea of tasting you. Roughly, he took your face in one hand, moving you around from side to side just because he could. 

Jackson’s back arched as he lowered his body to you. A mixture of passion and viciousness erupted through your kiss. You tugged off his shirt and ran your acrylic nails up and down his firm back in a teasing manner. Shamelessly, he enjoyed it when you drew blood.  

“Well, I have some time off work and-” 

“What do you do for work by the way?” You cut him off accidentally, curiosity jumped in front of your manners. 

You knew he did nothing good. That sweet face could fool many women, but not you. The moment you saw him, you knew he was a bad man. Most of the time you steered clear. But that face felt worth the risk. The city light night ride of adrenaline, thrill, anticipation and sensation was more addictive than any drug that you have ever taken. 

“I’d say finance but I don’t want to lie to you” Jackson answered, a mischief grin on his lips. 

“I’m fine with that” you smiled. 

“Anyways, before you rudely interrupted me. I was thinking of stealing you away” Jackson made known, his hands roamed over your neck until he found the latch to your glitter collar. 

“For how long?” you hummed, eyes lighting up with excitement of disappearing with him for a while. 

“Until I’m satisfied enough to be able to watch you leave” Jackson murmured as he threw your jewelry off of the bed.

Eagerly and desperately, Jackson sucked at your bare neck. It always looked like a piece of art when you’d wake up with love bites all over your skin. You moaned out, your hands reached his coarse hair and typically you found yourself tugging at his roots. 

“I don’t want to go anywhere that I’ve been before” you answered softly. 

“But I thought that you love the north of Italy” he snickered. 

“Never told you that” you said bluntly. 

“I know” Jackson replied with the same tone. “Alright, how about the south of France since we’re already here?” Jackson suggested, his sneaky hands were sliding your spaghetti straps off without you even realizing. 

“Been there” you clicked your tongue. 

“I’m almost certain you haven’t been where I have been” Jackson shot back, a confident look locked on. 

“You take all of your girls there?” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

Jackson stilled momentarily whilst poking his tongue in his cheek in defeat. You smiled with boldness. As he gently rubbed your cheek, Jackson chuckled at you.     

“Touche” he replied quietly. 

Jackson hummed dramatically whilst he scrunched up your dress from the bottom. As you lifted your upper body from the mattress enough for him to slip off your dress, Jackson swore he could have finished on the spot at the remembrance of your beauty. He found it so hard to believe. For he was always certain he knew your body perfectly. Yet, with every counter, your beauty has found a new way to evolve. 

“What about the Virgin Islands?” Jackson proposed, his hands massaged your soft naked breasts. 

“Been there” you sighed heavily in disappointment, maybe he wasn’t as obsessed with you as you believed. 

“I’m talking about the British, not the U.S. sweetheart” Jackson snorted lightly. 

Your eyes lit with interest. Sure, you’ll give him that one. The last time you were there was as a teenager. Even though it was already definite, you were sure that it would be a trip to remember. Not that you predicted you’d really be doing anything besides having Jackson’s cock deep inside of you. 

“I’m intrigued” you agreed. 

“Good, we’ll leave tomorrow” Jackson finalized as he leant up, legs still straddling your hips. 

“Tomorrow? Come on baby, let’s enjoy the city of love first” you teased, your hand shot up to stroke the section of his belly right above the massive bulge in his pants. 

“Suppose we could spend a couple of days here… But I warn you, you’ll be tied to the bed for most of it” Jackson nodded his head as he slipped his belt out from the loops of his pants. 

“I like that idea” you murmured.

As he fell back over you, the belt smacked onto the mattress right besides your head. Oh how largely he smirked by your nonexistent flinch. You were fucking crazy, but he had you on a leash. Yet most of the time he didn’t even feel the need to hold onto it, because he knew you’d always obey.

His intimidating stare meant nothing to you. For everyone else, it was always a power play. But you knew for you it was just foreplay. Jackson could never hurt you, unless you wanted it. Fortunately enough for him, you did, a lot. 

Jackson ordered for you to put your hands together, which you did with no hesitation. Once your wrists were bound together, you rested them over your chest. A series of heavy breaths left his lips, he always felt like a wild beast when he saw you tied up in any way. 

“I want to feel your mouth, Jackson” you whispered seductively. 

“Funny, I wanted your mouth on me too” Jackson exhaled as he sat beside you to slide off his trousers. 

“We could make that work” you giggled as your knees raised up. After a squeeze of satisfaction to his bulge, Jackson pulled down his briefs and tossed them off the bed. 

You’re pulled flat on your back directly in the middle of the bed. The sixty-nine position was always funny with Jackson. His ego demanded that he remained on top, always. The tip of his cock teased your mouth, you eagerly tried to eat him up but you couldn’t whip your tongue around him quick enough. 

When Jackson finished his little teasing game, he lined up his length to your mouth and you quickly pushed up a few inches deep. His cock was a fucking masterpiece. The perfect length and girth to spark every nerve in your body. It would be more addictive than a drug at this point. You always wanted his cock hidden inside of you. 

You became so focused on sucking his cock that you didn’t even realize that he hadn’t even touched your dripping cunt yet. Your legs squirmed from side to side, eyes rolled all the way back through a paralysis of pleasure. Jackson tugged your soaked thong to your knees as his hips rocked in a graceful pace. 

“Always take my cock so fucking well” Jackson praised through a grunt, his fingers rolled over your sensitive folds, which made you yelp around his size. 

Jackson chuckled before he latched his mouth onto your outer entrance. Always tasted so fucking sweet, like a rich chocolate cake topped with whipped cream. His tongue poked out into your warmth, it always felt so cold at first. Jackson’s tongue game was always sinister, you had worn that he had cracked the code to cheat at the game. For that cannot possibly be taught and no one’s amateur skills are that good. 

Typically, you came quickly around Jackson’s mouth. He lapped up every drip of your orgasm as you surfed the tidal wave of pleasure. The muffled moans always sent bone trembling vibrations around Jackson’s body. 

As your body slumped into a post orgasm bliss, Jackson pulled his cock out of your mouth. Through your heavy, long blinks, you found your back sunken into the mattress, hips lifted from the surface with your knees almost pressed above your shoulders. 

Easily, Jackson slipped his cock deep inside your warmth, he groaned out loudly, swearing underneath his breath. Your cunt truly was paradise. The solution to all of his issues was right here, inside of you. Jackson was convinced your pussy was perfectly designed for him. For your walls wrapped around his length at the perfect tightness, slick coated him so sensually. 

His sweet words snapped you out of your sexually peaceful state. “Such a good girl for me always. Aren’t you my love?” Jackson asked, in a heavy condescending tone as he snapped his hips in and out of you. 

My love, the closest thing to a love confession you may ever be able to rip out of him. Oh, how obsessively you loved him, There was nothing more that you craved than him, he was always on your mind. You’d do anything for him, even if it was a vague idea from him. 

You tried to reach up to kiss him, but he shoved your head back onto the mattress. Like always, his hand slipped around your throat as he squeezed roughly. You choked out, eyes forced to swell with tears as he focused on fucking you hard. 

“Could stay buried in you for days” Jackson moaned as his balls slapped against your rear. 

“Do it then” you managed to spit out, face turning completely red. You gasped out for air as his hand retreated suddenly. 

“And you claim that I’m in love with you” Jackson mocked softly, his thrust slowed down. 

If you were to be honest, you had fallen for him after your first night together. But the implications made you believe it was a one night stand. So, you tried to continue with your fun. Unfortunately, no other guy felt the same anymore. It was draining and saddening. It felt impossible for a stranger to know your body better than you did yourself. So, when you found those blue eyes again, you knew you had to dig your nails into him (literally). 

“You are” you heaved, squinting hard as you breathed heavily through your nostrils. 

“You haunt me” Jackson answered, his hand now caressing your aching skin. 

A strong squeeze erupted around Jackson’s length which made his eyes roll back. “You haunt me” you copied, your words encouraged by nothing but honesty. 

“As I should” Jackson laughed, his thumb rubbing over your sensitive bean.

“Jackson!” you screamed out, a pleasure filled smile on your lips. 

“Who do you belong to?” Jackson asked sternly, his thrusts were slow yet hard. 

“Myself” you dared to say. 

His cock completely exited your slippery cunt to be forced back in brutally. You cried out, but he managed to hit your cervix so you felt your thighs tremble. Those bright blue eyes never felt darker as he glared into your soul. 

“Tell me, I know you haven't forgotten…” Jackson growled. 

“No” you gasped, your lips formed in a cheeky manner. 

Jackson buried himself completely inside of you, you winced from the pain of his size stretching you wide. Your lower lip trembled in pain, eyelashes battered at him whilst you rubbed your hands to his chest. He slapped you on your cheek, hard. But your velvety walls couldn’t help back to clench around him. 

“Come on, playing hard to get when I’m already balls deep?” Jackson laughed loudly, teasing you by wiggling his hips from side to side. 

“Maybe” you grunted, eyes raised to the ceiling. 

Jackson kissed the corner of your mouth. Your eyes returned focus onto him. He looked so kind, charming and compelling. Mouth ajar open, sweat filled hair parted side to side. 

“Please, my love” Jackson whispered before he kissed your lips softly. 

“Oh Jackson” you moaned out with your lips still pressed together. 

“My love…” he murmured as he nuzzled your noses together. 

“You, always you” you confessed

“Atta girl” Jackson smiled in satisfaction as his hips took off like a sprinter. 

Your walls squeezed in a faultless rhythm. The tip of his cock brushed over your cervix with each thrust. Jackson smiled softly, nodding his head in approval for you to climax yet again. You couldn’t jump off of the cliff to land into another ocean of pure sensation. 

You were so compelled by your own orgasm, that you didn’t even notice his load fill you up completely. Jackson nibbled onto your shoulder as he moaned out. Jackson’s body slumped over you, the bed completely dipped in the body as you both fell a slave to your climaxes. 

Eventually, Jackson pulled out of you and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand brushed through his damp hair. You laid exhaustively on the bed, eyes lingered over his bare pale back. With a deep inhale, Jackson stood up and looked over his shoulder. 

“Stay here, I’ll get the bath ready” he spoke softly before bee lining to the ensuite. 

As if you ever wanted to ever leave him. You watched him from the doorway, smiling like a child with an ice cream as you admired him turn on the faucet. As the steam lingered out of the ensuite, Jackson returned. Carefully, he freed your hands and carried you towards the hot bath. 

His touch, affection, possessiveness and ownership haunted you eternally, yet you never wanted to escape this nightmare.

[merbear25]

Could i request for some friends of mine Day 26 - unprotected sex with Aokiji and a Female x reader ? 😏🧊

Branching out with writing for new characters has been fun, so I hope I did the request justice. Hope your friend likes it 💜🧡

With your steamy sessions planting the seed of temptation, each moment spent tossing and turning on the sheets made it more and more difficult not to give into primal urges entirely. You two were always careful, but there were times when throwing caution to the wind bore so much more appeal.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, fluffy smut, unprotected sex, defined relationship, ovulation mentioned, vaginal penetration, creampie

Worth the risk (Aokiji)

There wasn’t anything he needed to do to rile you up. He was lounging in your living room: legs stretched out, arms propping up his head, and his sleep mask on. Seemingly without a care in the world, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep. He wasn’t even doing anything, and yet you felt a prickling urge to wake him up to selfishly indulge yourself. 

His chest rising and falling slowly and steadily, the way his throat contracted as he involuntarily swallowed his saliva: your eyes held onto each subtle movement. Each curve of his muscles was evident even through his clothing.

You rested your face in your hands, looking over at him longingly, as if he wasn’t already your husband and was just a mere handsome stranger. A pining sigh escaped you, accidentally drawing him out of his nap.

“Is that what that sound was?” He teased, peeking at you from under his sleep mask.

“I can’t help it,” you half-heartedly complained. “You knew I’d get extra crazy about you this week.”

“Oh, did I?” He chuckled and waved you over to his side.

You hurried over and cuddled next to him. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pressing you against him. He hummed in contentment from the way your body felt against his. Your soft breasts offered a tender contrast against his firm muscles, and the gentle curves of your body offered a comfort he couldn’t find anywhere else.

The heat from your body spread across every inch of you. The time period following your menstruation was typically agonizing; you just wanted to be near him, to feel him at all hours of the day. Luckily for you, he was more than happy to oblige.

“You’re already so warm,” he murmured lazily. He positioned you so that your thigh was settled on top of where he’d be wanting you the most. As his hand rested on your thigh, massaging it up and down, the other was kept snaked around you—the hand gripping your ass firmly.

Any touch he offered you never ceased to leave you wanting more, especially during this week. Even though there were times you believed you may be running him dry, his desire to satisfy you time and time again didn’t waver. He always knew how to make you feel cherished.

Your hand roamed over his chest, tempting yourself with what was surely to come. When your fingers caressed him with more urgency, it caused his own to stir with more abandon. He gently thrusted against your leg, gripping its softness to gain more friction. Your gaze caught his, both of you having sailed into a whirlwind of passion.

You leaned up just for him to meet you half-way. His lips crashed into yours. Despite those gale force winds whirling within him, the kiss was laced with sensitivity, a kind which was reserved only for you. Those sweet sounds of pleasure escaped you, hanging on your soft skin as you exchanged your fervor with increasing necessity.

“You always know how to make me feel wanted,” you admitted in a hushed tone between kisses.

“But you are,” he held onto you tightly. “You’re so wanted.” 

Your lip lock deepened. The heat building between the two of you was enough to char you, and yet there was no way you would rather go out. To be consumed by the flames of shared passion was to know what it truly meant to be someone’s beloved.

Those whimpers you made whenever he touched you in just the right place were enough to drive him mad. With how much you vocalized his effect on you, he was just as expressive just through physical touch. The attention he gave your body caused you to tremble without fail. Your shudders while you desperately tried to hold on to any remaining control you had of your body was a challenge he never wanted to lose.

Both of your hips rutted against each other more frantically, eager for some proper release. He reached between your legs, and a sigh from the pleasant slickness pooling in your panties was muffled against your forehead.

Your brow furrowed as his fingers slipped under the fabric and danced along your slit. The sensitive bundle of nerves was targeted because he couldn’t allow himself to go without hearing your cries dripping with euphoria.

“I can’t remember if we remembered to buy condoms.” There was a bite of sexual frustration as the thought of having to postpone this reared its head.

“Can’t we make an exception? Just for today? I haven’t felt you, all of you, for such a long time.” His airy pleas to lose yourselves fully in each other left goosebumps prickling across your skin.

As much as you knew you shouldn’t, the temptation, the gratification that would leave both of you panting and bodies aching was too much to bear. Feeling yourself getting lost in the raging sea of your love, you dove head first off the side of the ship. Your consent was sealed with another deep kiss.

He pressed himself against you, coaxing another intoxicating murmur out of you. His fingers continued gliding between your folds, yearning to feel your wet warmth wrapped around him.

Tugging your underwear off, he hungrily explored your body as if he hadn’t touched you in years. Your fingers unbuckled his belt, giving you access to the answer to all your current problems.

“I want to feel you inside me so damn badly.” You played with his tip, spreading the precum around it in teasing rubs before stroking his full length.

“I know you do,” he groaned when he slapped it against your needy cunt. The sounds of your arousal splattering against his shaft was a perfect appetizer for the main course he was about to gorge himself on.

Easing himself into you, the way your hands tore at his shirt made his breath catch in his throat. Each thrust was diligent. Your spasms shook your entire body, which only added to the wanton sensations coursing through him. Pushing further and deeper, your body welcomed every inch of him.

Skin against skin, his cock twitched from how perfectly your body molded around his. Your angelic voice whimpering from his increasing intensity of your shared need for the other would put his ice abilities to shame—a wildfire set out to burn everything in its path.

“You’re so beautiful.” A low groan rumbled in his throat. “Just want to lose myself in you.” As his hips bucked into you, he could feel that much sought after edge approaching from the distance.

The tides of your most carnal urges crashed against you, pulling you out to sea to drown in the abyss of your ecstasy. With you trembling around him, the cries for him took every ounce not to go in after you. But then again, how could anyone resist diving into the depths.

Grasping at your hips, hot streams of cum coated your insides. The beads of his seed dripped out of you from around his still buried cock. A glutton when it came to you, he didn’t want to pull out of you just yet. The lingering shivers of euphoria casted down his spine.

When you lovingly wrapped your arms around him, his body reacted to your instinct—to have and to hold until death do you part. Each twist and pull of the waters of your love for one another would withstand the tests of time. With the risk having been casted, perhaps the potential consequences of your recklessness would be seen as a blessing in disguise.

[faun-the-fawn77]

"ֆɦɛ ӄɛɛքֆ ʍɛ ʊք"

Adam x F!Sinner!Reader

Genre: SMUTTY SMUT

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Whipped!Adam, OOC Adam, cunnilingus, nipple play, man-handling, creampie, a bit of orgasm denial, uhhh thats it? Idk what else to add...

Desc: When Adam was ordered to get intel on that stupid redemption hotel, he cursed Heaven. He hates Hell. He hates sinners. But... what happens when a tempting offer is introduced to him? And what if he wants more?

Note: My first time writing smut... oh boy... Let's hope this turns out good? Also Adam gets kinda...ooc? I feel like he's only kind and lovie towards his partner so... I tried with this one;(

She’s got me nervous

Talkin’ a hundred miles an hour

She’s more than worth it

I swear she smells just like a flower

I’d fall to pieces if I went anywhere without her

I love when she says, “What’s wrong with right here on the counter?”

A cloaked figure made their way through the streets of Pride. No one even glanced at the figure that was kicking rocks around and grumbling to themselves. Slipping into an alley, the figure leaned up against a brick wall of some building they didn’t catch the name of. Pulling their hood down to catch a breath of… air. 

Adam was done. He wanted to go back to Heaven and tell Sera to fuck off and do this herself if she wanted intel. He pulled out his golden cased phone and sent a message to Lute, his friend that helped keep him in check and lead the exorcist army. 

Heels clicked down the alley Adam was in. He quickly pulled his hood up but he wasn’t quick enough to hide his face from the demon that caught sight of him. 

“Well, I didn't know that angels were allowed down here. What’s up with you, handsome?” The voice was silky. Smooth like chocolate. Adam turned towards the voice and he choked on his own saliva. The demoness standing before him was beautiful. Her eyes lidded and a smirk played on her black stained lips. Her makeup was more on the goth side with black lipstick and dark colours for her eyes. Her outfit was what made Adam dart his golden eyes back up to her face. She wore a black mini skirt with fishnet tights, black heeled combat boots and a maroon crop top that showed more cleavage than what Adam was used to in Heaven.

“Like what you see, honey?” Adam was nervous. He was never the type to be nervous but something about this demoness made his heart beat irregularly and his stomach fill with thousands of butterflies. 

“I- uh- ye- yes… Wait n-” The unnamed demoness chuckled at his stuttering and strutted closer to him. She was a couple heads shorter than him so she had to look up to see his face.

“The names Y/N. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Adam.” Adam had no thoughts. No quip. No nothing to tell her. The smell of flowers, he didn’t know which ones, invaded his nose when she was closer. 

“You can’t be seen alone down here. Why don’t you come with me?” Y/N tilted her head as she smiled at him. Adam gulped and shakily nodded his head. Where was his brash and confident self? Why did he so easily fall for this temptress?

After getting to know her for a few days, Adam always showed up at her apartment to crash or hangout. He was still nervous around her and when she flirted with him, he lost all confidence to flirt back. 

Today was different. Today, Adam wanted to flirt with her. He’s been abstinent for a while and he assumed that if he just got intimate with her, then he would go back to normal and he could just ignore her. 

“Hello, handsome. How was scouting out the hotel today?” Y/N had her back towards him as she focused on making coffee. Adam stood without answering her. He silently walked towards her and when she was about to turn around to ask what was wrong, Adam trapped her between him and the counter.

“Let’s not talk about that. You look…so fucking hot today,” Adam growled out. Y/N had a smirk on her lips. She turned away from her coffee and wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers finding their way into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Are you gonna do something about it?” Adam felt his confidence shake a bit before he steeled himself. 

“Right here?”

“What’s wrong with right here on the counter?” She quipped. Adam smirked. He li- no- loved her. He loved what she did to him. 

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

Adam dove in and kissed her roughly. He heard her moan into the kiss and felt her fingers grip tightly on his hair. She was so, so delicious. He swiped his tongue across her plump bottom lip, asking for entrance. She granted him access and he pulled her hips closer to his as his tongue explored. 

This was so much better than any of those groupies he had up in Heaven. Actually, he was pretty sure this was Heaven. She tasted divine. 

He groaned into her mouth and gripped her hips tightly, humping his clothed dick into her pussy. The moan she let out almost made him cream his pants. He broke away from her mouth and trailed kisses down her neck. Her grip on his hair loosened as she began to run her lithe fingers through his hair.

“Adam…” Her breath was airy. Adam sucked on a spot that made her moan out. He attacked the spot for a few before he was satisfied that it would leave a mark. The first of many this night. 

Y/N tugged his head up and made him look her in the eyes, “Take your robe off.” Adam nodded and swiftly pulled his iconic robe off over his head, mussing up his already floppy hair. 

“Gorgeous…” Y/N breathed out. He watched as she reached out and ran her soft hands along his shoulders and down his pecks, stomach and to his pants. He knew he’s put on some weight since Eve. He was a bit self conscious but in this moment, Y/N made him feel anything but. 

“Kiss me.” And Adam did just that. He grabbed her hips, running his calloused hands up her waist and under her cropped shirt to cup her breasts. She had no bra on and he could feel the metal that pierced her nipples. He moaned loudly. He was the only one in Heaven with body modifications. Having a partner who also did? He was on cloud 9.

He brushed his thumbs over her pert nipples. She moaned loudly into the kiss and gripped his shoulders. He played with her tits for a few more seconds before pulling away and ripping her shirt off her. The pieces fell to the floor in piles of ripped fabrics. Adam pulled her in and trailed kisses from her lips, jaw, and down to her collar bone. He lowered to her breasts and finally started to lick and suck on her nipples, the piercings cold in his mouth. 

“Adam, please!” Y/N moaned loudly. She gripped onto the hair on the back of his head and pushed him closer to her breasts. Adam groaned and flicked the bud with his tongue and the other one he used his fingers to flick and pull. 

Adam pulled away and trailed more kisses down her stomach and stopped at the top of her shorts. He unbuttoned them and yanked them down. She went commando today. 

“My God, are you this wet only for me?” Adam brought a hand to her dripping pussy and ran a finger through her slit. She moaned out incoherent words, her grip tightening in his hair. He chuckled and leaned his face closer to her pussy, his breath causing her to shudder.

Adam stuck his tongue out, snapped his fingers, and his original gold tongue piercing was replaced with a vibrating one. He brought his mouth up to her pussy, licking a stripe from her entrance to her clit. 

Y/N’s knees buckled. Adam wrapped his arms under her and gripped her to lift her onto her counter. He spread her knees and dive right back in. 

“Oh Satan, Adam, please, more!” Adam hummed and the vibrations from his voice paired with the ones coming from the tongue piercing caused her to moan loud and voice out, “AH~ I’m cumming! Adam ple-”

Adam pulled away and licked his lips. His stubble and cheeks covered in her essence. He pulled his boxers down to reveal his erection. He could see Y/N drooling at the sight.

“Like what you see, gorgeous?” He threw her earlier words abc at her. She nodded and went to drop to her knees but Adam kept her on the counter.

“Later. Right now, I need my dick inside you.”

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

She Keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

The next morning, Adam stirred awake. He rubbed at his eyes and opened them slightly. He looked around and sat upright when he noticed that he wasn’t in his room. The walls here were painted a blood red with some devilish decorations around. 

Adam jumped when he turned and saw a figure under the blankets next to him. He sucked in a breath and carefully lifted the blankets off the figure's head to see who it was. He let out a breath when he saw it was just Y/N.

Wait.

Adam did a double take and his eyes widened. Oh no. No, no, no! This was NOT supposed to happen! He was sent here to see what Lucifer’s spawn was up to with that dumb hotel of hers! NOT to sleep with the scum of the Earth!

Adam tumbled out of bed, snapped his fingers to put his robe on, and raced out of the demoness’ apartment. He stumbled out onto the street and looked both ways to see if anyone saw him before he dipped into a nearby alley to get his cloak on and cover his face with the hood. 

“Oh my God, Lute and Sera are going to fucking kill me! He tried to call Lute but he cursed when he noticed his phone was dead. He about chucked it at the wall when a voice sounded from the entrance of the alley.

“Hey! Are you okay..? Ugh what am I doing…” The last part was muttered that Adam barely caught it. He looked towards the accented voice to see a tall spider-like demon dressed in the sluttiest outfit Adam has ever seen.

The spider demon stepped closer. The demon actually looked concerned which caught Adam off guard.

“Are ya alright there, toots? I don’t mean to intrude but ya look like you’re having a bad day. Was the one night stand that terrible?” Adam blinked. 

“W-what? One night stand..?” The demon nodded.

“Well ya raced outta that complex like your tail was on fire!” Adam almost dropped his phone then. This…thing, saw him come from Y/N’s apartment and he was concerned?

“What's it to you? Maybe the pussy just wasn’t good enough!” The spider demon looked at him and then burst out laughing.

“No way it wasn’t! The only decent female in that joint is one of my best friends!” Adam almost passed out at that information.

“Y/N, despite me being attracted to others, has the best pussy in town! Can definitely keep ya up all night!” 

Adam looked at the demon again and noticed something else. This was the one that Lucifer’s crotch demon presented at the hearing. The one that followed every point on his stupid list to get into Heaven. 

“I- uh… She was supposed to show me to some hotel but-”

“Ya mean the Hazbin Hotel? Of course she cared more about getting good dick than showing a sinner where to get redeemed or some bullshit. I’ll show ya!” The spider gestured for him to follow. Adam reluctantly did. He tucked his phone away and followed after the tall spider demon.

“The names Angel Dust, toots. What’s yours?”

“Edenis”

I need her so bad

Sometimes I thank that I can taste it

This evil romance

So good I never wanna waste it(Yeah)

I can’t trust my friends

‘Cause she’s what everybody chases

And I know where she’s been

‘Cause it’s on everybody’s faces

Come on

Adam made sure to keep his demonic disguise on at the hotel. He, unfortunately, fit right in as a “redeemable” monster with a brash attitude and vulgar tongue. He was introduced to everyone by that stupid princess. The only one he actually tolerated was Husk.

The day was going by slowly. Charlie had been planning a new exercise out with her girlfriend, Vaggie. Adam made sure to stay far away from her in case she somehow recognised him. Angel Dust was out with his friend, Cherri Bomb, and Sir Pentious was helping Nifty with the cleaning. 

Adam wandered over to the bar and sat down. Husk pulled out a dusty bottle of red wine. The first time Adam asked for a drink, Husk poured him a shot of whiskey. Adam took a sip before he gagged and slided the glass back to the cat demon and rudely asked for some “goddamn red wine!” Husk shot his eyebrows up before shrugging and digging around for the one bottle of wine they had. Husk made sure to keep in stock of it ever since.

“What’s wrong with you?” Husk asked nonchalantly. Adam sighed and leaned on the counter. 

“What if… you fell for someone that you weren’t supposed to?” Husk looked at Adam. Adam was looking down in his glass of wine with this sad look in his red and gold eyes.

“How bad do you want her?”

Adam looked up at the cat, “I need her so bad. Sometimes I… I think I can still taste it. Her lips.”

Husk hummed. He set down the glass he was cleaning and pulled out a deck of cards. He started laying out a game for him and Adam to play while they talked.

“Then why don’t you tell her instead of thinking about the ‘what if’s’? If you truly love someone that much then I’d tell them. Don’t make it a big thing for them. Make it simple. No one, not even that motherfucker up in the clouds, could stop someone from falling in love.” Adam was silent. He pondered over Husks’ words. 

“But what if it was love between an Angel and a Sinner?” Husk immediately stopped what he was doing and looked at Adam. Adam could feel the cat’s stare go right through him.

“Oh my- you gotta be fucking kidding me. Adam? The fir-” Adam slapped a gloved hand over the cat’s mouth and glared at him.

“Yes, you fucking scum! Now shut it before I rip your fucking tail and wings off you. You go blabbing to anyone and I’ll make sure we kill everyone in this stupid fucking shithole.” Husk glared and ripped Adam’s hand from his snout. 

“I won’t fucking say anything you prick! Satan almighty…” Husk grabbed a bottle of whisky and downed it.

Adam knew he was fucked now. How many others here are gonna see through his disguise? He couldn’t abandon this mission though.

“Who is it?” Adam perked up at Husk’s deep voice. 

“Who’s who?” Husk rolled his eyes.

“The demon you were talking about?” Adam paused. He glanced around to see if Angel Dust was anywhere near before he leaned a bit close.

“Y/N… Angel’s friend.” Husk choked. 

“Her? Damnit Adam! She’s been with, like, every demon in Pride! Doesn’t help that she’s an Overlord as well! Oh my Satan, you are so fucked.” 

Adam was stunned. He didn’t know how Hell worked but he was here long enough to know that Overlords were some of the most powerful in the Pride Ring. How come Y/N never mentioned that part of her? They used to talk for hours on end about their lives, both living and dead.

“Does that mean…she can’t be redeemed?”Adam was almost scared of the answer to that.

Husk looked at him. He sighed and set down his cards, “Look, Adam. If she wanted to be redeemed then she would be here. She has thousands of souls under her belt. She’s even more powerful than that smiling deer prick here,” Adam deflated at that but Husk wasn’t done, “But, if anyone can convince her to do good then I’m sure it’s you. From what I heard from Angel and you, she seems to be doing good things without realising it.”

Adam sat up and downed his drink before hopping off the stool. 

“I’ll be back! Tell Charlie some lie or whatever. I don’t fucking care.” 

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to 

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to 

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

“Fuck, Adam. That was fucking amazing! No wonder you call yourself ‘Dick Master’.” Adam was lying beside her in her bed. He turned towards her and lifted a hand to brush away the hair from her eyes. She turned to look at him and he could see the confusion swirling in her clouded eyes.

“I…” Adam swallowed. This was it. 

“I love you, Y/N. Not because you’re a good lay but because you actually cared about how I felt when I would talk about my problems in Heaven. When we would have those talks before we got…intimate, it would be the best day of my life. Even Lute, that fucking bitch, noticed something from me.” Adam continued to pour his heart out to the one he loved. 

“I don’t want this to be a fuck and go. I want this as something more.” Adam was nervous again. He hoped he didn’t just ruin whatever this was with her.

“Adam…” Adam shut his eyes. He didn’t want to be rejected. Not for a third time in his long life.

“That was very sweet but… How am I to be with you if I cannot go to Heaven?” Adam sat up. He pulled her up by the shoulders and hugged her.

“I don’t wanna admit this but, that stupid hotel works. Charlie and everyone will help you. I’ll even come down and help or talk to Sera about sinners being redeemed! I just want you.” Adam hugged her tightly. He couldn’t believe she accepted him 

“I’ll go. Just for you.”

“Thank you…”

I never wanna have to slow down

Gotta be a better way to come down

I’ve gotta stay awake somehow

I never wanna have to slow down

Gotta be a better way to come down

I’ve gotta stay awake somehow

Y/N couldn’t keep quiet. Adam pounded into her pussy ruthlessly. Her moans were so loud that Adam had to use his powers to soundproof the room. He panted above her, gripping her wrists together above her head. He leaned down and trailed kisses down her neck.

“Adam! I-I’m close, please!” Adam growled. He ran a hand down her waist and towards her throbbing clit. His calloused fingers found the bud and started rubbing in circles. His lover’s voice got louder at the contact.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me! Show me how much you love this dick!” Y/N screamed as she gushed all around his dick. He moaned and drilled his hips into her a few more times before he released into her. He looked up at her flushed face and smiled. 

It’s been years since their first run-in with each other. Since then she’s been redeemed and now lives with him in Heaven. Her skin went from demonic to an angelic colour. Her horns were replaced with tiny wings and her tail was now rounded instead of pointed. She had giant wings on her back that glittered in the sun of Heaven. 

“I love you, Y/N” Adam lowered himself next to her and wrapped an arm around her stomach. Her stomach was bulged slightly, clear signs of pregnancy.

Y/N smiled at her lover and snuggled up to him. Adam recognised the flower now. Lily of the Valley. 

“You really keep me up, ya know that?” Adam murmured to her. Y/N giggled. 

“Of course I know that. You just can’t get enough of me~” Adam laughed. He knew he was whipped. Lute had scolded him for it when he would talk about his and Y/N’s love life. 

Adam never wanted to come down from this high that Y/N gave him. He wanted to stay like this forever if it meant having Y/N by his side for that long. 

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

All night(All night)

Oh boy idk if I like this one... Hopefully my Lucifer one is better! Sorry for not posting this yesterday but yesterday was hectic for me:(

I'm trying not to give descriptions to reader but I like the idea of reader having black lipstick on when its sinner reader. Idk im just weird:p

Hope you all enjoy!!🖤