#My wife and I are a package deal though

[dirty-urie]

if Brendon wants a second wife, I can cook and clean and im halfway decent in bed

[jopzer]

finally finished dai after just about a decade of hacking away at it

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 2

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As the flash of cameras blinded you, a reporter stepped forward, her voice eager as she asked, "How are you feeling now? We heard you were seriously ill while working abroad."

You forced a smile, nodding. “I’m doing much better now, thank you. The treatment was tough, but I’m fine.”

Another reporter, sensing an opportunity to dig deeper, asked, “Can you tell us how you two met?”

You exchanged a brief glance with Bucky, before turning back to the crowd with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, we met at a music festival. I was in the corner trying to charge my phone, and this guy”—you gestured toward Bucky with a casual wave—“came over asking to borrow my charger. We started talking, mostly about music—our favorite artists, the ones we didn’t like. After that, we kept hanging out, and, well… it led to this.”

You smiled at the cameras, but there was a hint of something sharper in your eyes. “But, you know, not once did he ever mention his dream of going into politics,” you added, the words tinged with just enough edge to make Bucky flinch.

Bucky chuckled, the sound forced. “I didn’t want to scare her off.”

The press continued to bombard you both with questions, but most of them were directed at Bucky. He answered each one with the polished ease of a seasoned politician, while you stood there, feeling increasingly out of place and suffocated by the whole charade.

The situation you found yourself in—the pretense, the constant spotlight—filled you with a simmering frustration. You hated every minute of it.

As the car doors closed, you finally exhaled, the chaotic blur of cameras and flashing lights now safely behind tinted windows.

“Well done. You’re fitting right in,” Bucky said, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of arrogance and ease as he loosened his tie.

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing. “Do you think I’ll just stay silent? I could write an article that would burn everything you’ve worked for to the ground.”

He smirked, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms with a casualness that made your blood boil. “Are you blackmailing me, babe?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, rolling your eyes.

“We have to start acting like a happy couple. Nicknames are part of the package,” he replied, his smirk never fading.

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, loaded with every ounce of resentment you’d been holding in.

“I don’t, though. I never did,” Bucky responded, his tone softening, almost sincere.

You faltered for a moment, your defenses momentarily shaken. His words, no matter how simple, had a way of cutting deeper than you expected. But you quickly recovered, crossing your arms defensively.

“If I get elected, I promise your independent news company will have us as a sponsor,” Bucky continued, his tone now all business. “Isn’t your boss stressed out, looking for investors? Independent news still needs money to pay employees.”

You clenched your jaw. He was right, and you hated that he knew it. Your company was struggling, and his offer—no matter how twisted—would keep it afloat.

“Consider this a business relationship,” he added, his eyes locking onto yours, challenging you.

You leaned in closer, voice laced with sarcasm. “Oh, no, no. Whatever Bucky wants, Bucky always gets.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his smirk disappearing as he met your gaze with a seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. “Not this time. This time, I’m making sure we both get what we want. But don’t forget, if you decide to play with fire, be ready to get burned.”

The next thing, he did is made a video call, his eyes never leaving the screen. The call connected, and the familiar voice of your brother, Tim, came through the speaker.

“Hey, the numbers are looking great, bro,” Tim said, his enthusiasm evident even through the screen.

Bucky nodded approvingly. “Good. Oh, there’s someone who wants to see you.” He turned the phone to reveal you.

Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Omg, you’re back! You’re really here!”

Bucky chuckled, his expression smug. “I know, right?”

You were momentarily stunned, seeing your brother working for Bucky. The betrayal stung, making your heart twist in your chest. Tim’s presence here was a stark reminder of how deeply involved Bucky was in every aspect of your life now.

Tim pointed at you with a half-serious, half-playful expression. “Don’t mess this up.”

Bucky exchanged a few more words with Tim before ending the call. He looked over at you, his gaze intense. “He seems happy working with me. His hard work would be ruined if the truth got out, wouldn’t it, big sis?”

The words hung heavy between you, the implication clear. Bucky knew how protective you were of Tim and how much you cared for him. The tension in the car felt suffocating, every second stretching out as you tried to process the double blow of betrayal.

You turned away, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, the realization of being trapped with no easy escape. Bucky was holding all the cards, and you were left grappling with the enormity of it all.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The car navigated through a series of well-manicured streets, finally pulling up to a grand, sprawling estate. Your eyes widened as you recognized Bucky’s house, an imposing structure that spoke of old money and inherited power. The sight only deepened your sense of dread.

As you stepped out, you glared at Bucky, frustration etched on your face. “Am I going to stay here?”

Bucky gave you a sidelong glance, his smile barely masking his amusement. “Oh no. We’ll be staying at another house. I just wanted to introduce you to the team.”

A sigh of exasperation escaped you. “Urghh… is your mother here too? I hate her.”

Bucky chuckled, his tone laced with mockery. “No filter, huh, babe? She’s here… but then again, you two have always had differing opinions.”

You shot him a withering look. “She’s the main reason I left. She hated me from the moment you introduced us. Remember? She called me a ‘poor bitch from Monte Cristo.’”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. “It’s her signature move.”

“Bucky, the longer I stay with you, the more I want to snap. If you put me in the same room with your mother, I might just lose it,” you snapped, your frustration boiling over.

Bucky’s smile remained, but his eyes grew colder. “Good thing you won’t have to share the same roof then.”

As you walked through the house grand entrance, one of Bucky’s team members approached him with an enthusiastic smile. “Introducing her to the public really boosted our numbers. Great move, James.”

Bucky glanced at you with a victorious grin, as if he’d just won a major battle.

Soon, his siblings made their appearance. His brother, a tall, disheveled figure with an air of erratic energy, was clearly under the influence of cocaine. He flashed a toothy grin at you before turning his attention elsewhere. His sister, reserved and quiet, offered you a polite nod, barely acknowledging your presence.

Then, his young nephew Nate bounded up to you, his face lighting up with recognition. He wrapped his small arms around your leg.

“Hey, Nate!” you said, surprised and touched that he still remembered you. “It’s been a while.”

Nate looked up at you with wide eyes. “I remember you! You used to play with me.”

You patted his head gently, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

Meanwhile, Caroline Barnes, Bucky’s mother, observed you from the corner of the room. At seventy, she looked every bit the part of the icy matriarch, dressed head-to-toe in Chanel. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, were framed by a carefully styled silver coiffure. She held her champagne glass with a delicate but dismissive grip.

“Something about her, I always hate. I can’t explain why,” Caroline said with a sneer, her gaze never leaving you.

Julius Barnes, Bucky’s father, stepped in. With his full gray beard and military posture, he exuded authority. “Be nice, Caroline. It’s crucial for her to be here. We can’t afford to lose this opportunity.”

You looked at Julius and Caroline. Both had clearly aged, their faces lined with the stress of the campaign.

Caroline forced a thin smile. “Welcome. It’s so delightful to have you here. I’m sure you’ll find the atmosphere… inspiring.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, you’re such a fucking liar.”

Caroline’s eyes widened in surprise at your boldness. “You’re really brave now,” she said, a hint of shock in her voice.

“Because I’m not part of your family anymore. The marriage between me and James was supposed to have ended,” you retorted, your voice cold and steady.

Caroline’s smile faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. “Well, dear, you must be quite the sight to behold for us tonight.”

Julius stepped in, trying to defuse the tension. “Let’s keep this civil. We have important matters to discuss.”

You glanced at Bucky, who watched the exchange with a bemused expression. It was clear that this charade was far from over, and you were trapped in a web.

As you and Bucky prepared to sit down on the plush couch, the campaign team busied themselves in the background, setting up for the next presentation. You moved to take a seat, but Caroline's voice cut through the murmur of activity with a sharp edge.

“Na-ahh. Put a blanket under her,” Caroline said, her tone dripping with disdain. “We don’t know what kind of virus she’s brought back from another country. And this is a $50,000 couch.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “What the fuck? Is that a joke?” You turned to Bucky, eyes flashing with irritation. “Because strangling her is a joke for me.” You chuckled darkly, “I think it's funny too.”

Bucky’s face tightened as he stepped between you and his mother. “Stop it, Mom. I need her more than I need your attitude.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her face a mask of thinly veiled disdain. “Well, isn’t that just charming,” she said, rolling her eyes as if the very act of speaking to you was beneath her.

Julius, standing nearby, shot Caroline a stern look, his military bearing evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. “We’re trying to keep things civil. This isn’t the time for your petty grievances.”

Caroline huffed, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s all just pretend we’re one big happy family, shall we?”

You took a deep breath, trying to suppress the growing anger bubbling inside you.

The room felt charged with tension, and it was clear that the facade of civility was wearing thin. Bucky gave you a reassuring glance, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration.

Greg part of the campaign team, a wiry young man with an anxious energy, took center stage. He adjusted his glasses and began to explain the next phase of Bucky’s campaign strategy with a mix of nerves and enthusiasm.

“So the next plan is…” Greg said, his voice slightly shaky. He clicked through a series of slides on the screen behind him, each one detailing the upcoming events. “We’re focusing on increasing voter outreach through targeted social media campaigns and local meet-and-greets. We’ve also got a major fundraising event coming up next week.”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mask of professional detachment, though his eyes flickered with a hint of approval. You, seated beside him, tried to maintain your composure, though the tension in the room was almost palpable, especially with Caroline still glaring at you.

Greg continued, his tone growing more frantic as he reached the final point. “And the last thing…” He took a deep breath, glancing nervously between you and Bucky. “Both of you will need couples therapy.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a sarcastic smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, isn’t this just wonderful?”

Greg’s face reddened as he tried to recover from his awkward announcement. “I mean, it’s just… well, it’s a suggestion. You know, for the campaign’s sake. Sometimes, a little… uh… harmony at home can be beneficial.”

Bucky gave a tight smile, his gaze fixed on Greg. “I appreciate the suggestion, Greg. We’ll definitely consider it—maybe after we get through the rest of this circus.”

Greg nodded vigorously, clearly relieved to move on from the uncomfortable topic. “Right, of course. Well, let’s focus on the campaign, then.” He hurriedly wrapped up the meeting, leaving you both alone.

You sighed and turned to Bucky. “Did you wake up this morning and decide you wanted to be Vice President, or was it just a spontaneous career choice?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Oh, you know me. I was just lying in bed, thinking how I could add ‘Vice President’ to my list of hobbies. Figured it’d be a nice change of pace from ruining your day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unamused. “And here I was thinking you might have a bit of humility left.”

Bucky chuckled, lifting an eyebrow as he shifted in his seat. “Humility? That’s for people who aren’t trying to get elected. But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find some way to make this circus amusing for both of us.”

He leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Honey, I’ll give you the ticket.”

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “A ticket? To what, exactly? Your endless charade?”

Bucky’s smirk widened as he leaned back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “To the front row of the greatest show on earth. It’s going to be quite a ride, I promise.”

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[goodgirl4daddy4evr]

Hypnotized lesbian sucks Priest off before her wedding

Tw: religious abuse. Are you gay? Have you been told you're going to hell for being gay? Does that trigger you?

I was given this prompt by @kingofobsidian 🥵

I was getting ready for my big day. I wasn't sure it would ever come. Or include me in a dress, marrying another woman in a dress, in her family's church. Her parents took her to a very open and affirming church that my soon to be wife felt safe coming out in when she was a teenager and now felt joy to return to so we could celebrate our love. I hadn't been to church in a while but we'd been doing counseling with the priest in preparation for marriage. He was so nice, I really felt like I could be open with him about my fears and insecurities. It helped us talk about them as a couple. We each would have our own recordings to listen to about marriage and the commitment we were making. I would always zone out listening though so I'm not sure how helpful they really were. My finance felt the same.

I was in the recreational area bathroom when I asked my maid of honor and friends to give me some time alone to reflect. My strapless dress was not staying up over my titties that well, we had to use some tape and I was fiddling with it when I noticed it in the mirror again. I'm startled out my headspace of frustration at my chest's incompatibility with strapless tops when there's a knock at the bathroom door. "Hello, Becki? It's Father Tom. I just wanted to check in on you. May I come in?"

I look at myself in the mirror, my bleached blonde hair half up, and share a confused look with myself before turning towards the door. Father Tom looked like he always did, all in black with his white collar poking out. Now that I think about, I don't remember if he has to change too. He smiles and chuckles, looking at my chest.

"Oh Becki, your dress is a little lopsided."

"Ugh, is it really that noticeable?" I turn back to the mirror and inspect the dress while I notice my worried look. Father Tom comes up behind me and I don't notice he's reaching out to touch me until he is. I look up in the mirror to see him tower above me and his hands on my shoulders. His eyes are starting at my titties in the mirror.

As if his stares could cause it, the tape finally unstuck on one side and most of my left titty popped out.

"Oh my God!" I cover my nipple. I look at him. I turn around. "Oh my- my- ah I'm sorry Father! I'm sorry I just- I'm just sorry!"

His hands came to lay on my back now and he's smiling again. "Oh Becki, sweet girl, you have nothing to apologize for." He looks into my eyes very intensely while mine are searching his face for an answer as to why.

"Remember, Becki? Remember?"

And that's when I drop my hand. I do remember. I look into Father Tom's eyes. They look so deep.

"Don't you remember, Becki? From your recordings? You know what marriage between two women is about don't you? Don't you remember, Becki?"

"It's about serving cocks together. It's when lesbians become a package deal for superior men. Women can't satisfy each other's needs. Only cock can."

"Ohh yes, you do remember, Becki."

That's when I feel myself pushed to the floor on my knees looking up at the first man I would ever service. In my wedding dress. Waiting for him to marry me to another woman.

He's unbuckling his belt as he speaks. "Now Becki, this will be just your first taste of cock. You'll be coming back every week for your sacrament, Becki, I want you to remember." His thumb rubs on my lower lip. "Now Becki, remember those recordings? I want you to think back to what they said, Becki."

"Start slow first. Lick all up and down. The wetter the better. Suck on the head. Suck on the balls. Use your hands. Open your throat."

He pets my hair before taking out his cock. I can't believe it. It's so much bigger than I thought they could be! It's like big tits! Big cocks only exist in porn! But I have big tits. Oh my god, do regular men have big cocks?

"Becki, remember..."

Father Tom moves his cock closer to my face I can't stop staring at it, it's so beautiful and I want it in my mouth so bad. I wanna suck and slobber all over it and suck his cum out so he put it all over my tits. I bounce and grind as I move forward and grab the base of his cock to lick all over his cock and get him nice and wet for my mouth.

"Oh! Becki I'm so glad your training took. I'll have to talk to your new wife after I marry you. Make sure her training took as well. You're both so beautiful. Made for taking cock. To marry you both would be sin if I did not claim you for my own. You thoughtless women denying your purposes. You should be grateful that I've saved your souls. I'm going to bless you with my holy seed and you'll need to receive this sacrament daily."

I look up with my big eyes, "Thank you, Father." and I take him in my mouth. I suck on the tip of his cock with my hand rubbing the base. I swirl my tongue around his head, tracing the part right where the head meets the shaft. When he puts his hand on the back of my head I suck him deeper. And deeper. And then my hand doesn't fit. I bob my head sucking from as close to the base as I can get to the bottom on the head and up and down and up and down. And hold. And up and down and up and down and up down. And hold.

It's when I start to juggle his balls that he grabs my head with two hands and begins to thrust in earnest. I finally understand what facefucking is. He's just using my mouth. Using my mouth to cum. He thrusts and thrusts and slows down and rolls his hips and thrusts and thrusts. Both my titties have fallen out of my dress and drool is dripping onto them from my mouth. My eyes are starting to water and it's starting to hurt. I'm making all these noises choking on his cock, looking up at him. He's staring at me.

"Look at me, Becki, look at me. Look at the man that has saved you. You will be blessed! Ohhh I'm putting it on your tits! I'm putting it on your tits!"

He lets go and I cough and gasp and catch my breath and look at him as he rubs his cock and lines up his cock head in the middle of my cleavage.

"In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, take your daily blessing, and may it cleanse you."

He unloaded his milky gooey white cream all over my flushed red titties. Spurt after spurt came out, more than I thought was supposed to happen. After he finished milking his cock I held up my titties to show off to him and he put his cock between my titties and rubbed his cum around.

"Ohh Becki, my child, I'm so glad I saved your soul for the Kingdom of Heaven."

He takes a step back and pulls out his phone from his pocket. I'm a little dazed when I hear the camera sound.

He chuckles "Now we can clean you up for your bride. Let's fix that dress."

[phoxey]

„Who knew you could be so cheesy…“

Chocol x fem!reader

CW: none :) this is purest pure little fluff

AN: at the end cuz i don’t wanna spoil the oneshot

It was a cloudy November day. The Moon was barely to be seen and it was cold in the streets of Seoul.

Yet you were sweating. You stood in a small underground club, panting but grinning as heavy hiphop music blasted out the speakers. It was a smaller dance battle event but the place was crowded. In front of you the orange haired beast that was your girlfriend. But in this dancebattle she was your opponent and you weren’t going to go easy on her.

In her turn she threw every possible impressive move at you. It seemed like she really wanted to win over you. You knew that this battle wouldn’t be finished on this stage, but rather continued later in your bed in the apartment of you two. You had the deal, that whenever you two battled, the winner could control the sexy time in the evening.

Smirking you bit your lip, when she did that ground move of hers. It always made you go crazy over her and she knew it. Your girlfriend was so impressive and with every passing moment you fell in love more and more.

How can a person be so talented? So beautiful? So handsome? So gentle? So rough? So perfectly imperfect? So smart? So foolish?

She was everything at once. The whole package. And the Bonus? She was yours. Yours alone.

At the end of her turn she came to a halt before you and winked at you teasingly. Chuckling you pushed her back, by her waist. To be honest, you just wanted to feel her body in your hands for a moment. The entire day had been so hectic, so this was the first time of the day that you touched her. You felt how deprived you were. Chocol had been out with Haechi and Mini the entire day, doing god knows what.

You had a different style than Chocol, less wavy motions, less floor work. It was a hard hiphop style with krump elements sprinkled into it. And the music was yours, so that would be an easy win, you thought. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the judges nodding approvingly, but your eyes were fixed on your girlfriend. You copied her ending move and finished, standing in front if her and winking cheekily.

Chocols second turn started slowly and she had that smug grin plastered onto her face, she was planning something. You wondered what, because she had already used up all her killer moves.

A record scratch ripped you out if your thought process. Suddenly „Marry you“ by Bruno Mars was playing. Confused you looked over to the DJ, who was just grinning at you. You looked back to your girlfriend, to see if she knew what was going on. What Chocol was dancing, wasn’t a battle dance anymore. It was a Choreography.

She mixed some b-boying into her dance it seemed, as she swirled around on her knees and before you knew it, she was kneeling in front of you and was holding a black box in her hand. The music faded out. Even the crowds chatter died down. Everyone, including you, was holding their breath.

„We have been through endless battles together, on and off stage. For the past ten years you supported me through every storm and every war that i fought, especially the ones against myself. When in doubt you were always there. When we are apart i can think about nothing but the moment i will have you in my arms again. And when we fight, i am not afraid, because i know in the end it is you and me against the problem. You read me like an open book. You always know what to say and do to cheer me up. Though, if i am being honest, your mere existence makes me happy. Seeing you makes me happy. Hearing your sweet voice and laugh makes me happy. Holding and kissing you makes me happy. I want to make you happy as well… for the rest of my life i want to be the reason you smile and feel good. Please let me take care of you for the rest of my life and become my wife?“, she asked and opened the box. A simple but beautiful ring shimmered there.

The hand that had covered your mouth in shock, slowly reached for Chocol as you slowly nodded, as though you were in trance.

„Yes, oh god… yes, please.“, you whispered and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Chocol beamed happily and stood up. You jumped into her arms and quietly sobbed happy tears into her neck. Then she pulled away to slide the ring onto your finger. Gently she peppered your face in kisses.

„I love you.“, you whispered.

„I love you more.“, she whispered back.

Grinning you shook your head and pushed her playfully.

„Who knew you could be so cheesy…“

********

AN: This is how i want someone to propose to me... doesn't have to be Chocol. Doesn't have to be one of the SWF girlies... i just need a dancer gf, i suppose, so i can battle against her and have her propose to me.

[daydreamingyuta]

NCT as Husbands Series: Yuta

summary: fluff, drabble, husband!yuta wc: 996 nct as husbands masterlist

Yuta is my fav man so to me, he’s the absolute best husband!

He would be completely obsessed with you. Like you didn’t think it was possible for him to become more obsessed with you, but ever since you two got married he's been on a whole different level. A lot like his love for Mark but intensified because you're his wife.

But Yuta can also come off as hard to read sometimes, not always making his emotions known. So I think Yuta would find comfort in the fact that even though he’s not showering you with love at the moment, you still know just how in love with you he is!

He’s also possessive but not in a (super) toxic way just in a “that’s my wife” kinda way. Which is one way he shows his love for you. like nothing makes him more proud to be your husband than when other guys are clearly looking at you, but he’s the only guy you’re concerned with! and you know exactly when it’s happening because of the little smirk he gets on his face.

Also this man is obsessed with blowing kisses for some reason and it’s the cutest thing in the world! So he would be constantly blowing you kisses especially over FaceTime when he can’t actually kiss you. (or he would send you a quick video if you can’t pick up)

I think one of the most precious things about him is that, when he likes someone, he makes sure that they know how special they are to him. like the way that he would genuinely make you feel like the most beautiful woman that's ever walked this earth! Compliments from him would leave you blushing and replaying his words over and over in your head all day! but as soon as you tell him how handsome he is, he’ll get so shy and cute about it 🥹

One thing that he’s going to make sure of is that his baby is happy!! He literally cannot stop himself from spoiling you and showering you with love 🥺🥺

You hated the fact that one wrong thing could happen, and your whole mood would be ruined for the day. You had gotten into a disagreement with a friend today over dinner and you couldn't stop thinking about it. It wasn't even that big of a deal, it was just annoying that they couldn't see your side of the argument. Yuta could tell that your mood was sour as soon as you got home, plopping down on the couch without even changing into sweats like you usually did. "You're back home early." He says, wrapping his arm around you, letting you lean into him. You hum in response and he knows that you don't really want to talk about what’s put you in a bad mood. Since he doesn’t know what’s bothering you, he quickly searches his mind for ways to make you feel a little better. He sits there with you for a good minute, stroking your hair to comfort you, when he thinks of the new cookies you had bought but haven't tried yet. "Hey, did you want to try those new cookies you got from the store?" He smiled to himself when you perked up slightly at the thought of a sweet treat. "Yeah, I forgot about those." You two walk into the kitchen, Yuta instinctively putting water in the kettle for some tea as you get the cookies out. "Their coffee flavored right?" "hmm…?" You inspect the packaging until you spot the description of the cookies. "Yeah, they’re mocha flavored." You point at the packet showing Yuta as he leans down to get a closer look but then he surprises you by giving you a quick kiss on the cheek instead. You give him a playful smile as he gets two mugs from the cabinet. Once the tea is poured, you both try the cookies which turn out to be amazing. You both express your delight by nodding your head at each other because your mouths are full. As you enjoy your treat, you find yourself talking all about your disagreement with your friend. It's nice to talk to your husband because he's such a good listener, but reliving the conversation made your mood go right back to annoyed. Yuta actually gives you some good advice once you finished telling him the whole story, which he could tell made you feel better, but he still wasn't going to be satisfied until he saw your pretty smile that he loves so much. "Hey, stay here." He says, as he leaves the kitchen. You wait there until he returns, phone in hand and looking something up. You're confused for a good minute until you hear him playing one of your favorite songs. He grabs your hands, and you know he wants you to dance with him. You follow his lead as you sway with him to the song. He can see a smile creep onto your face as he presses more into you. You bury your head into his neck and stay just like that for a while until Yuta gets an idea. He pulls you two apart gently so he can spin you in a circle, which causes you to laugh because the song that's playing does not warrant him to be spinning you around like this at all. Yuta flashes you a proud smile, beaming at the fact that he made you laugh. "Now spin me around." You shake your head at him, but comply with his wishes, spinning him around not once, not twice, but three times until he’s satisfied. The song ends and you wrap your arms around his neck and give him a big kiss for being so adorable. "Have you always been this cute?" "Only when my sweet wife needs to get out of a bad mood." He says, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you back.

[sugarpopss]

Late Call

We're back Lee girlies I'm back on my corrupt sheriff shit. This so SO inspired by the lore for Lee and his post divorce with Flo girlypop written in the chat by yours truly and @bucknastysbabe and also I've had this google doc just...open in my tabs for ages. Here's the post for the dead motel I took the Plaza Lodge from.

fem!reader

Lee rarely responded to late night calls himself. One of the perks of being the sheriff-he got to go home at 7:30 and leave all of the idiots underneath him to deal with noise complaints and bar fights. Even if all Lee did with his free evenings was park his ass on the sofa and fill up with TV dinners and sodapop and packaged cookies, watch ‘I’ve Got a Secret’ and tug on his cock-it was still better than responding to hillbillies domestic disputes. 

It wasn’t uncommon to get calls from the apartment block his sister Sandy lived in, either. About ten years ago-when Lee had been a fresh-faced deputy with a wife and a plan and pants that fit-the building had been a motor lodge. Not a particularly nice one, but a functioning motor lodge nonetheless. The place hadn’t really started going downhill until they’d converted it into apartments. What did anyone expect? The rent was cheap, the building itself ill-maintained, and several of the residents seemed determined to make their units a welcoming home for all manner of pests. 

Units like Sandys. Christ, it made Lees eye twitch just thinking about the mess of her place. However much of the mess was his sisters and how much of it was the fault of her stinking pig of a husband was still up in the air. All of that to say-Lee wasn’t usually perturbed by calls from the apartment block. They were rarely a big deal. 

Despite knowing all of that-save the bits about Lee stuffing his face and jerking it to Bess Myerson-Willis still felt the need to call Lee up at nearly 11 o’ clock at night. Lee had been tempted to just not pick up the phone, but, well…he was the sheriff. He had certain responsibilities. Even if just hearing a voice from the station while he was at home made him want to groan. 

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry to bother you so late, Lee-” 

Really, everyone was meant to be calling him ‘Sheriff Bodecker’, but Lee wasn’t going to fight that battle at 11 at night. 

“You got a reason for buggin’ me like this? I don’t wanna spend my night chattin’ with you.” Maybe Lee was a little grumpy about being shaken out of his post-orgasm food coma. Maybe Lee was a little grumpy most of the time. 

“It’s just that a call came in from the Plaza Lodge, and I know that your sister lives down there , so I thought-” 

Lee didn’t even let the dispatcher finish. He was already annoyed that he’d had to haul himself up to answer the phone, and the movement had made the fullness of his stomach shift from ‘pleasantly full’ to ‘tight and queasy.. “I don’t need to go down there every time someone hears a goddamn bump. It’s a shithole. People call the police. Handle it.” 

“I know that, Lee, it’s just…” Willis was trying hard to justify the call. Pissing Lee off usually meant spending a shift out patrolling the county line, looking at skinny cattle and rusted out cars. “Well, the caller reported gunshots, and they said a woman was gettin’ all worked up and hysterical, so I thought maybe you’d want to know about it.” 

Alright, that did make a little knot of anxiety form in Lees chest. As tangled up and messy as his relationship with Sandy was, she was still his baby sister. If something was awfully wrong, he oughta be there. A sick, shameful part him-though not really that shameful-hoped that fucker Carl had finally put his hands on her; slapped her around or pushed her down the outdoor stairs. Something that wouldn’t hurt Sandy too badly, but would still let Lee finally get the son-of-a-bitch in handcuffs. Or even better-gunshots, agitated woman-Sandy had just snapped and shot Carl. Now that would be something worth getting up to see. 

With that in mind, Lee hung up on Willis while he was still talking and set to getting dressed and moving, and if he grabbed two Pepsis to drink on the way, that was his business. It was late, he needed the sugar to perk him up. 

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

When Lee pulled up to what used to be the Plaza Motor Lodge, he was greeted with both disappointment and relief. There was only one cruiser in the parking lot, and the whole place was pretty quiet; just a couple of people standing out on their porches, smoking or sipping from chipped mugs, trying to look like they weren’t attempting to nose in on their neighbors. That at least ruled out Carl having gotten a bullet in his ugly forehead.  Considering that Sandys apartment was one of the dark ones, the bastard was likely actually warm and cozy in his bed-which Lee had no doubt was riddled with bed bugs. What a shame. 

The door to a ground floor unit was open, however, so that was likely where the problem was. He could’ve just gone home right then. But he was already there, and unexplained gunshots were pretty unusual in Meade. People out in the holler loved to fire shots off at all hours of the night for reasons only Jesus knew, but Lee liked to think that the center of the county was a little more civilized. 

He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, but didn’t wait to be invited in-just did it to let the people inside know he was there. Deputy Howser was sat on the sofa, a notepad balanced on his knee. The other person-presumably the apartments tennant-was pacing the short distance between the front door and the kitchenette. Agitated? Definitely. Hysterical? Yet to be seen. 

“Sheriff Bodecker!” Howser didn’t stand to greet him, but did pat the spot on the sofa next to himself. “You’re gonna want to hear this, Sheriff. Pretty lady’s got a real story for you, huh?” 

The apartments tenant paused in her pacing to whirl on Howser like a jungle cat. “How about you try taking me fucking seriously?!” 

Lee sort of thought steam was going to start coming out of her ears. 

“I’m not the one shooting at ghosts, miss.” Howser said, raising his hands in mock surrender. 

Lee stepped farther into the room. For all of the shit he’d done as sheriff, he was pretty good at the actual minutiae of police work. He’d defused more fights and talked down more angry and panicked people than he could count. 

“Take it easy, sweetheart.” He said in his best ‘everything is okay, miss’ voice. “I know you-”

“I’m not your fucking sweetheart!”

The woman had whipped her head to him the moment it left his mouth. There were mascara tear tracks streaking her cheeks, but she didn’t look sad or scared, just pissed to hell. 

She kept going. 

“If one of y’all would just listen to me for one goddamn minute I could explain!” 

Lee sighed and sat down on the sofa. The deputy nudged him, smirking, and Lee realized that the idiot was going to be extraordinarily unhelpful in sorting this out. 

“Get out of here.” Lee told him. Howser didn’t even question it, likely glad to have one more thing cut from his night shift. Back to the station to sit around and drink burnt coffee with his finger up his ass, most likely. 

Once the deputy had gotten his skinny ass out of there, Lee leaned forward, elbows on his knees-ignoring how that position made his gut roll against his belt. He had bigger fish to fry. 

“Listen, miss.” He began. “I can see you’re pretty worked up, that’s no good. How about you take a breath n’ sit down n’ tell me what’s going on. I hear you were shooting at something?”

She held back for a few moments, then seemed to accept that Lee was the best she was going to get and sat down. With the woman on one end of the sofa and Lee on the other, she told the sheriff what had happened. 

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

She wasn’t shooting at ghosts. Lee had figured as much from the start, but it was nice to have confirmation. What she had been shooting at-or rather, what she had shot at, as there had, in reality, only been one bullet fired-was a man. According to her, a man she worked with in one of the shabby little offices in the center of town had been following her home for a couple of days. She had looked through the front window and seen his car lingering in the parking lot, pulling up in front of her unit then pulling out again and looping the lot. So she’d gone into the mostly empty parking lot and fired once, just to scare him. “Just so he knew I had a gun.” she’d said. 

Lee scrubbed a hand over his face when she finished the story. Some men just didn’t know how to handle rejection. Not including Lee, of course. Why, he’d never been rejected by a woman! Not that he was pursuing many these days, after the whole mess of the divorce with Flo, but still. 

“I’m not gonna arrest you for being scared.” He said. He wasn’t. If he had really wanted to, he probably could’ve gotten her for disturbing the peace or unlawfully discharging a firearm, but he didn’t really want to. He’d let worse things slide than a pretty young woman taking her safety into her own hands. 

“What if I had someone stop by here on patrol tomorrow night? Stick around the parking lot for a bit, make sure no one who shouldn't be there is hanging around.” 

She looked away from him, worked her hands in her lap. A lot of the furious indignation in her had faded away, replaced by exhaustion and anxiety. 

“What about tonight?” She asked. 

A reasonable question, but one that had Lee sighing and falling back against the couch cushions. “Jesus Christ, miss.” 

What about that night? Sure, Lee could call Howser back up and have him watch for a bit, but the dumbass would probably just upset the lady again. And Lee was already there-now that he had been up and moving for a bit, the queasiness from earlier had pretty much abated. He wasn’t even feeling particularly tired. 

“I’ll stay for a while.” 

“Really?” She didn’t demure or simper about the big strong sheriff not needing to waste his time on a little thing like her-although it would’ve done wonders for his ego. She just raised her eyebrows, a bit bewildered but pretty accepting. 

Lee nodded, then pushed off his knees and stood. Sure, he’d stick around for a bit. He could finish the half a Pepsi sitting in his cruiser and make sure no one sketchy was hanging around. Well, as far as it pertained to this lady and her problem-if they went and hauled out every creep and scumbag from the Plaza Lodge Apartments they’d have half the tenants, Sandy and her no-good cradle snatcher of a husband included. 

“I’m already here. God knows there’s enough to keep an eye on around here.” 

That got a smile out of her, albeit a small one. If he had been about ten years younger, didn’t have an ex-wife with some truly awful stories about him, and his belt wasn’t biting into his lower belly something awful, Lee would’ve been thinking she was real pretty when she smiled. Even when she’d been snapping at Deputy Howser like a rabid dog, she wasn’t bad looking-just upset. 

“I…I really appreciate that, Sheriff Bodecker.” 

Oh, if Lee didn’t just love the sound of that! ‘Sheriff Bodecker’ said with respect like that was music to his ears. If only everyone referred to him like that, instead of ‘Lee’ this and ‘Lee’ that. 

“ ‘S no trouble. I’m used to late nights.” 

Lee didn’t even know he was trying to impress her until it came out of his mouth. It was a bit juvenile, sure, but the little smile didn’t drop from her face. And he was being truthful! Lee was used to late nights-it was just that he was usually meeting with Leroy or carrying out some of that chickenshit bastards pseudo-mafia business. Lee’s preference was to have his belly full, balls empty and ass in bed by 10pm. 

She cocked her head a little, which made her modern bubble hairstyle bob. Flo had wanted to get a haircut like that a couple of years ago, when it just started to show up in the fashion magazines that filtered in from Cincinnati, and Lee had told her that it would make her look like a bobblehead. By far not the worst thing he’d said to Flo, but it still wasn’t great-especially considering how  cute he was finding the same look on this lady. 

She just looked at Lee for a moment, apparently weighing his offer in her mind, then glanced towards the apartments little kitchenette. 

“I could make you a cup of coffee, if you’d like. Or, um, I have some leftover spaghetti, if you’re gonna be around…” 

“That’s alright. I’ll be right out there in the cruiser, stick around for a while and make sure your jackass doesn’t show back up.” Lee hooked a thumb back towards the front door, still standing open against the cool night air. 

“Okay.” She didn’t offer again. The lack of persistence in her offer stung Lees ego, just a little bit. It’d been a bit since a woman who didn’t reek like the sweat and stale beer had paid him more attention than an eye-fucking. Losing Flo really had tarnished his reputation, goddamn her and her suited-up lawyer with his fancy office in Dayton. If he’d really wanted to put up a fight, he could’ve accused Flo of sleeping with the bastard. She almost certainly hadn’t been, but it would’ve made the whole process a bit more inconvenient for her. Maybe that was a petty sort of win to want. Maybe Lee was the sort of man who wanted those wins anyway. 

And that was the end of it. 

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

By around 1:45, Lee was dozing off in his cruiser. He’d finished off his room temperature Pepsi, smoked a cigarette, hummed the earworm theme song from 'Name That Tune' and smoked another cigarette. He’d opened and closed the glove box at least six times, contemplating the Chunky bar stowed in there. 

All while keeping an eye on the other cars in the parking lot, seeing if anyone was going to try to cause trouble. He doubted that the idiot who had been bothering little miss thing was going to show back up that night, but that didn’t mean other horseplay wouldn’t happen-though depending on what it was, Lee would have to let it go anyway. The girls down at the Tecumseh and a couple of illegal substances all fell under the umbrella of ‘things Lee let slide for cold hard cash’. 

The door of miss things unit opened up, light spilling out for just a moment. If Lee had turned his headlights on he could’ve gotten a look at what she was holding, but he also probably would’ve spooked her into dropping it. It didn’t matter anyway, because she came right up to his drivers side window. He’d left it rolled down after the first cigarette. It was a nice night for May. 

She offered him a steaming mug with a cartoon cardinal painted on it. The aroma of coffee hit him instantly-good, fresh coffee, not like the shit at the station that comes out burnt then sits in the pot for hours. 

“It’s been a bit. I figured you’d take me up on this, now.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Lee responded, taking the mug. Their hands didn’t touch, though to be fair, the only person who did much touching on Lee those days was himself. 

The coffee was strong and sweet, just how Lee liked it. So she could at least make a good cup of coffee, and really…wasn’t at all bad looking with the tear tracks washed off her face. No Bess Myerson, but that was a high bar. She was plenty attractive for a town like Meade-and a man like Lee. 

A lot of things could be good enough for a man like Lee.

[sequinsmile-x]

Barter

He knew if he took a moment to step back and think about what he was doing. About the fact he was bargaining with a cat, and an unconscious one at that, that he’d think he’d lost his mind. But Aaron knew he’d do anything for Emily, for his wife, even if that meant he ended up making promises to a cat who had made it his life work to poop in all of his shoes.

-x-

Hi friends,

This is for the lovely @em-prentiss! She wrote a fic about Aaron and Sergio being indifferent to each other recently and it made my brain whir and here we are!

As always, please let me know what you think <3 I am going to go give my cat a massive hug.

-x-

Warnings: sick pet, pregnancy

Words: 2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron had always known that Emily and Sergio were a package deal. She loved that cat, and he loved her back. He followed her around her apartment like a shadow, the click-clack of his claws on the hardwood floor a soundtrack to her life as she moved from room to room. Sergio, however, had always been much less keen on Aaron. 

It was something that was clear from the first night he’d ever slept over at Emily’s. He’d snuck out of bed, a kiss pressed against her forehead before he headed for her kitchen, intent on waking her up with breakfast. Instead, she’d woken up to the sound of him yelping in pain as Sergio appeared from nowhere and sunk his claws into Aaron’s bare back. Emily had apologised profusely, all flushed cheeks and messy hair as she stood behind him wearing only his shirt and she dabbed antiseptic on his scratches. He said it was fine, because it was, and they both joked Sergio would get used to no longer being the only man in Emily’s life. 

Sergio’s indifference for Aaron, something he returned in equal measure, continued as their relationship grew. As Aaron and Emily shifted from boyfriend and girlfriend to living together in a house with both their names on the deed, to husband and wife, Sergio continued to make his dislike of Aaron clear. The cat loved Jack, and would often sleep curled up at the end of the young boy's bed, and sometimes Aaron wondered how he’d ended up in a situation where he lived with a cat who somehow knew what freshly clean clothes were his when he dragged them out of the basket to tear them up. 

He’d lost countless ties and shirts, pieces of them found shredded across the house, even though Sergio had more toys than a cat could wish for. Aaron was powerless against it, the love that reflected in his wife and son’s eyes when Sergio purred happily in one of their laps enough to make him put up with all the chaos the four legged creature had brought into his life. He’d lost even more of his will to do or say anything about it when he’d watch Sergio curl up with his head on Emily’s pregnant belly, the shock on the cats face whenever the baby would kick at him funny every time. 

Aaron yawns as he walks through the house, scratching the back of his head as he goes over everything he has to do before he goes up to bed to join Emily. He’s about to go, his foot on the bottom step, when he spots something near Sergio’s food bowl out of the corner of his eye. He furrows his brow and walks over to check, his confusion turning into concern when he sees Sergio laying on his side next to his still full bowl.

“Hey buddy,” he says, crouching down next to the cat, anxiety building in his chest as Sergio doesn’t even react to him, “You didn’t want your dinner?” He asks, trying to move the bowl closer to him, his lips pressed together as he still doesn’t get a reaction. He moves to pick Sergio up, something that would usually result in hissing and a batting of his paws at Aaron’s arms but there is still nothing. He simply lays there as Aaron lifts him into his arms and stands up, “Okay, Serg. We need to get you to the vet.”

He’s suddenly very grateful Jack is at Jessica’s tonight, that he only has to tell his wife, who he knows will insist she drags herself out of bed and go to the vet with him, that the cat is sick. He keeps a hold of Sergio, who is tucked against his chest and heads upstairs to wake up Emily.

At first, she’s bleary eyed and irritated that he’s woken her up from from a deep sleep - something that was rare for her these days because of their very active baby - but the moment he shows her Sergio she’s wide awake. She wraps him in his favourite blanket, a bright pink thing from his days living with Penelope, and hold him close as they drive to the emergency vet. Tears she blames on her pregnancy hormones, as if being upset about her beloved pet being sick was something to be embarrassed over, streaming down her face. 

Their concern is only heightened when the veterinary nurse immediately takes Sergio from them. Her eyes wide as she tells them she’ll check them in as soon as Sergio is with the vet. It’s a long wait as they sit there for news, the only sounds in the otherwise empty vet’s office Emily’s sniffles and the clock on the wall. 

Aaron isn’t entirely sure how much time has passed when the vet comes out to see them, a tight smile on her face he doesn’t have to be good at his job to know isn’t good news. She tells them that they’ll monitor Sergio overnight, and if he makes it they’ll operate in the morning. Emily cries into Aaron’s shoulder, tears and snot seeping through the thin material of his t-shirt. The vet tells them they can see him for a few minutes before they leave and they follow her back past the reception desk. 

Emily gasps as she walks in, the sight of her cat lying there with an IV almost too much for her to take. She sits down at the chair pulled up next to him and she strokes over his soft fur, her other hand on her bump as she tries to soothe both of her babies at the same time. 

“Hi Serg,” she says, swallowing thickly to try and push her emotions down, “You’re going to be okay. You’re in the best place. Everyone is going to take really good care of you and you’ll be home before you know it,” she keeps talking to him, reassuring him as if he’d understand even if he was awake. She sits there for a few minutes before she blows out a shaky breath and turns to look at Aaron who had stood dutifully behind her ever since they’d stepped into the room, a solemn look on his face as he rubbed comforting circles on her back, “I need to pee. Again,” she says, a flash of a smile across her face, “Your kid is on my bladder,” she slowly stands up, letting him help her without fuss for once, “Can you sit with him whilst I go?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her cheek and then her forehead. The vet shows her to the bathroom and Aaron finds himself alone with Sergio for the first time since he’d found him unresponsive on the floor. 

He clears his throat and then he sighs, leaning in to get closer to him, the stillness of the creature that was usually always on the go unnerving. 

“You’ve got to pull through, buddy,” he says, scratching between Sergio’s ears, almost wishing he’d bat at him like he usually would if Aaron dared touch him, “I know we’ve never quite seen eye to eye, but she loves you a lot. So does Jack. So if you make it through this for them I’ll buy you all of the treats you want. And I’ll stop complaining about you shredding my ties or using my shoes as a litter tray.” He knew if he took a moment to step back and think about what he was doing. About the fact he was bargaining with a cat, and an unconscious one at that, that he’d think he’d lost his mind. But Aaron knew he’d do anything for Emily, for his wife, even if that meant he ended up making promises to a cat who had made it his life work to poop in all of his shoes. Aaron sighs and scratches Sergio’s head again, “I promise.” 

He hears Emily clear her throat behind him, her smile shaky and face unreadable other than that and the tears still shining in her eyes. He has no idea how much of what he’d said, if any, that she’d heard, and she steps towards him, her hand on his shoulder as she makes it to his side, “I’ll just give him a kiss and we can head home.” 

He nods and stands up, letting her take his place. She leans down and kisses Sergio between the ears and she whispers something against his fur before she stands up straight, wincing as she places one hand on her back and one on her bump. He closes the gap and rubs a hand on her back where he knows it hurts the most and he drops a kiss to the top of her head. The drive home is silent, one of Emily’s hands in Aaron’s and the other on her belly to distract herself from the fact Sergio isn’t with them. 

It’s only when they are home, snuggled up in their bed, that she breaks. Her tears slipping down onto her pregnancy pillow as he wraps himself around her, doing his best to surround her with love and reassurance. 

“What if he dies?” She asks, trying to catch her breath, both of her hands wrapped around one of his as she secures his arm against her chest, “For a long time he was all I had and…he can’t die.” 

He tries to soothe her, murmuring words of comfort he knows don’t mean anything against the top of her head in between kisses. She eventually falls asleep, worn out by the last few hours and the preemptive grief stuffed in her lungs. He lays there and finds himself wishing for all sorts of things that don’t make sense - cursing himself for not going to veterinary school so he can save Sergio himself, and by the time he falls asleep he’s bartering with a god he isn’t sure he believes in.

___

Sergio makes it through the night, and then his surgery, and before they know it he’s home with a shaved paw and a shaved belly and he’s lapping up the attention they are all giving him. He sits curled up in Emily’s lap, loving all the head scratches and kisses, his loud pur giving away any attempt at indifference. 

He’s been home a day when Emily brings it up, her smile coy and teasing as she turns to look at Aaron, Sergio fast asleep in her lap as she smiles at her husband. 

“So…are you going to make good on your promise to get him all the treats he could ever want?” 

His eyes go wide and he swallows thickly, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment, “You heard that?” 

“I heard all of it,” she says, reaching up to cup his cheek, leaning in to kiss him, her smile pressed against his lips, “You’re sweet. Who knew all it would take for you guys to become friends was a near death experience” 

He sighs, “I just know how much you love him.” 

She hums and kisses him again, “If I said we’re out of treats, and the pet store happens to be next to that ice cream place baby and I like…what would you say?” 

He rolls his eyes even though they both know he is already planning on going, and he kisses her before he stands up, “I’d say I’ll be back in 30 minutes,” he leans down to kiss her again, “Rocky Road?”

She nods, “You’re the best. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says, sighing as he scratches Sergio’s head, “And I love you buddy.” 

He shakes his head as he hears Emily tell Sergio that she always knew Aaron would come around. He goes to put on his sneakers and turns up his nose at a familiar smell emanating up from them. He picks one of them up and has his suspicion confirmed and he grimaces, sighing to himself before he reaches for another pair of shoes and grumbles. 

“A promise is a promise.” 

[starfall-spirit]

Precious Collateral

Read on Ao3 // Fic Masterlist // SJM Omegaverse Masterlist // Dark Feysand Masterlist

Summary: When Rhys set out to collect his dues from the head of the Archeron house, he knew the man would be begging for more time. What he didn’t expect was to be offered the youngest daughter as collateral.

After spending only a day in the temperamental woman’s company, he found himself utterly enthralled with his new guest—and with no intention of letting her father scrape together the funds that would grant her her freedom.

AN: This is going to be the darkest fic I've written so far. Definitely bringing in heavier themes than my CoN!Feysand fics have. The first chapter is short and free of any trigger warnings, but I want to give a list up front of what I have tagged so far on Ao3 for future chapters.

TW/CW: Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Extremely Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Bondage, Spanking, Orgasm Denial, Dark!Rhys, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink, Dom/Sub Undertones, Power Imbalance, Daddy Kink

That said, enjoy the intro chapter!

Chapter I

Rhysand

“I have tried, I swear. Please, I have nothing to give. If I had more time…”

“I’ve given you time,” Rhys drawled, leaning back in the chair he was offered. “Months beyond the timeframe we agreed on, in fact. And still have nothing to show for it, Archeron. I believe I made the consequences of that quite clear during our original meeting.”

“Y-yes. You did. I haven’t forgotten. I only hoped if I offered you a new deal for the time being you may accept.” He kept his eyes cast down slightly, looking every bit the beta begging to keep his miserable life. “Please, I can not leave my wife and daughters with nothing.”

“One less mouth to feed. I’d say you’d be doing them a favor.”

The man swallowed hard. “My daughters,” he almost whispered. “You can have your pick. Keep one of them in your home until I can gather the money.”

Rhys just managed to catch his sneer, maintaining his mask worn for business matters such as this. One line he never crossed was trading in flesh. He hadn’t touched the trafficking circles so many of the other major players tangled themselves in and no one indebted to him had dared offer up their own child yet.

He would have laughed in the man’s face and put an end to the conversation if it wasn’t for the soft gasp outside the office door. His eyes slid in the direction of the sound before he jerked his head, a silent order to Cassian. “Let me go! You can’t—” The girl’s mouth snapped shut the moment her eyes met Rhys’. “I—”

“Well, well. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that eavesdropping is rude, pet?”

Though her fear practically radiated from her, his demand only made her raise her chin. What a little brat she was. And no wonder, he mused. The youngest Archeron was an omega. A rarity, coming from a beta mother and father. Her older sisters had been just as disappointing in that regard, even if the eldest had a mouth on her.

“It seems I was right to,” the girl snapped back. “If you’re here to tear our family apart.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer audacity. All that rage in such a tiny package. It was refreshing. “My, Abraham. Just where were you hiding this little gem when I visited you before?” Leaning down, he caught a whiff of her scent, the lilac and pear downright intoxicating, setting his alpha instincts reeling. The words to seal the deal with her father were out of his mouth before what remained of his morality could cut through the haze. “I’m going to enjoy training you, darling.”

She drew a deep breath, shuttering softly. Good, that she was just as affected by him. “You can’t do this,” she whispered.

“Can’t I, pet?” He didn’t let himself touch her, instead drawing back to his full height. “Cass, make sure she has a few things for the flight back. The rest can be provided when we’ve made it home.” Glancing back over his shoulder, he addressed her father one last time. “A pleasure doing business, Archeron.”

~~~~~

Feyre

“A hunger strike isn’t going to do you any favors, sweetheart.” She scowled, pushing the plate to the top of her tray before turning her attention back to the window. “And the cold shoulder isn’t going to earn you a ticket home.”

“Tell me what, exactly, Rhysand, would earn me some peace and quiet?” Cassian coughed sharply, clearly trying to cover his amusement. The man seated beside him—still nameless to her—just shook his head. As if Feyre was some bratty child they should never have dragged into this mess. If he was so easily convinced, perhaps his partners could be too, no matter how patient Rhysand seemed.

Turning to the window again, she tucked her knees to her chest. Where was she left now? She was seventeen, not even graduated, and being flown off to God knew where until her father could scrape together whatever the nut jobs needed to pay off the astronomical loan he’d wasted in a matter of a few weekends. Feyre had seen the ledgers. Even if her mother and older sisters refused to greet reality, she knew better.

Now she was stuck. Her family wouldn’t be able to beg or bargain for the kind of money they needed. If she was ever going to be free, she’d have to plot an escape herself.

She spent the rest of the flight studying the three men as subtly as possible. How they moved, spoke, and acted towards one another. The weapons they each carried, even in the safety of their own jet. But what bothered her most, if she was being honest, was the raw confidence each of them exuded. They knew their weapons, knew each other, and laid an unshakable trust in that. She wasn’t going to be able to turn one of Rhysand’s goons to her side. Not the top of his team, at least.

So she would wait. However long it would take, she would best them.

~~~~~

Rhysand

“What game are you playing, Rhys?” 

They were an hour from landing in Manhattan when Feyre finally drifted off, giving his brothers the freedom to truly interrogate him. “We don’t let innocents get tangled in business. It’s the one thing that puts us above the others.”

“I have no intention of selling her off, Cassian. She’s exactly what her father offered her as—collateral.”

“She’s a kid, Rhys.”

“She’s a minor for a few more months, yes, but hardly a child.”

His enforcer scowled. “So, what, December rolls around and you put her to work in the club?”

“No,” he snapped, frustrated with how obvious his investment in the girl was becoming. There was no reason he should be so against the suggestion. They paid the girls dancing in their night club, Velaris, more than most in their profession could dream of. Their clientele was vetted. Feyre would have been just fine if he threw her Mor’s way to train up for the club. “I don’t know yet. She’ll stay at the townhouse under my watch until I’ve decided. No arguments.”

“Rhys.” He met his spymaster’s eyes, loathing the hint of worry there. “Eyes on the prize?”

“Always, brother.”

~~~~~

Just going to use my Dark!Rhys taglist at the moment, but if the trigger warnings are too much please reach out so I can remove you from the taglist.

Taglist: @whatishowedyouinthedark // @ninthcircleofprythian // @sajirah // @acourtofladydeath // @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer // @toporecall //@popjunkie42-blog

[mandos-mind-trick]

Kinktober Day 23 - Deepthroating & Facesitting

Summary: The bar is the easiest place to pick up strangers. Of course, they never quite know what they’re getting into. 

Pairing: Jesse x reader x male character

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, monster AU, vampire!Jesse and vampire!reader, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), deepthroating, facesitting, threesome, hair pulling, blood drinking, lots of blood, some gore (mostly just blood everywhere), character death (but you’ll like it), language, very brief implication of pedophilia at the end.

A/N: Yes, I did both prompts just because I can. I do love this one very much. Let vampires drink blood and fuck nasty!! 📣

MASTERLIST

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing alone in a place like this?” 

A smirk forms on your face as a body slides into the seat next to you at the bar. You turn, the ring on your finger catching the light as you reach for your glass of wine. “What makes you think I’m alone?” 

The man seated next to you is average at best. No taller than 5’8 with dull hair that needs a good wash and trim, an ill fitting suit that makes him look bulky and frumpy, and a patchy five o’clock shadow that makes him look more like a mangy dog than anything else. His cologne is strong, nearly making your eyes water as he leans in, resting his elbow on the bar. 

“I don’t see anyone around.” He says, his eyes pretending to scan the area around you, but in reality he’s staring at your chest and the skin revealed by the deep v-cut in your dress. 

“You’re bold.” You say, crossing your legs to reveal the skin of your thigh through the slit in the side as you swirl the wine in your glass. “I like bold.” 

His tongue darts across his lower lip as he looks you up and down. “And you’re brave. I like brave women. All the more fun to break.” 

You hide the look of disgust that passes over your face as you take a sip of your wine. 

“She’s not so easy to break.” A voice says behind you, a hand slipping around your waist. 

You can’t help the smirk as the man pales a bit, sitting up straight on his stool. You turn to look up at Jesse, leaning into his side. “Hello, dear.” 

“Hello, love.” He smiles down at you. “Making friends?” 

“Yes,” You turn back to the man. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.” 

The man swallows thickly. “Brian.” 

“Well, Brian, I’d like you to meet my husband Jesse.” You say, motioning to your tall, well dressed husband next to you. “Jesse, this is Brian.” 

Jesse holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Brian.” 

Brian shakes his hand, nodding. “Yeah.” 

Jesse smirks, slipping his arm back around you. “Don’t look so scared, Brian. Plenty of men like to stare at my wife.” Jesse cups your chin, tilting your face up towards him. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

Brian gulps, nodding. “Yeah. She is.” 

Jesse runs his finger across your wine-stained lips. “And sometimes, when the mood is right, I don’t mind sharing.” He releases your face, turning to look at Brian. “That is what you’re after, isn’t it? A night of pleasure with a beautiful woman?” 

Brian nods again, his breathing shaky. “Yes.” 

Jesse grins. “Perfect. Though, I do have to warn, we come as a package deal.” 

Brian looks between you, his eyes trailing over you before they flicker to Jesse. “Like...together?” 

You nod. “Yes, though his involvement can be as little as you like. He does enjoy sitting and watching as much as he loves being involved.” 

Jesse steps behind you, wrapping his arms around you. His hand presses against your stomach, his chin resting on your shoulder. “What do you say, Brian? You want to fuck my wife?” 

Brian licks his lips, staring at Jesse’s hand on your stomach. His eyes trail upwards until he’s staring at your face, a small smirk tugging at your lips. A smirk tugs at his own, just for a second, barely long enough for you to catch it before he’s nodding. “Yeah. Yeah I would like to fuck your wife.” 

Jesse smirks, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “Excellent.” He releases you, reaching into his pocket to toss a stack of 20s on the bar before offering you a hand. “We’ll take our car.” 

Jesse leads you from the bar, Brian following close behind. You climb into the cramped back seat with Brian, sitting right up against him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, your hand dropping to one of his thighs. He tastes like cheap beer as he kisses you, eagerly shoving his tongue into your mouth. You resist the urge to roll your eyes as his other hand lifts, wrapping lightly around your throat. You meet Jesse’s eyes in the rearview mirror, an amused glint shining in them as he drives to the hotel. 

You stumble into the elevator with Brian, his hands clutching at your waist desperately as he pins you against the wall. Jesse presses the button for the correct floor as Brian drags his lips to your neck, sucking at the skin. Jesse stares at you in the reflection, your hand lifting to tangle in Brian’s hair. You stare back, lifting a leg to hook around Brian’s waist. He’s hard, cock pulsing against your side. 

You stumble out of the elevator, Jesse leading the way down the hall to the hotel room. Brian is handsy, keeping his hands on you as you wait for Jesse to open the door. His hands are clammy and you can smell the sweat beginning to form on his body. It’s revolting, but you’ve smelled worse. 

You lead Brian into the hotel room by the hand, probably the nicest he’s ever been in. You turn to face him, running a hand down his front to palm him through his pants. He lets out a groan, bucking into your hand. 

You lean in close to his face, nipping at his bottom lip. “Take your clothes off.” 

He pulls away from you, tugging eagerly at his tie. You slowly remove your jewelry, kicking off your shoes. Jesse closes the blinds, getting the room set up comfortably before beginning to undress himself. 

Brian’s eyes are on you as soon as your dress pools around your feet, leaving you in nothing but your lacy undergarments. Brian tugs his pants down, the bulge obvious in his briefs. 

“Someone’s excited.” Jesse says, trailing his hands over your sides. “How do you want to do this? You want her to suck your cock? You want her to sit on your face?” 

“I don’t eat pussy.” Brian says, tossing his briefs to the side. 

You fight the urge to make a face, Jesse swooping in to save you as he kisses you.“Well, lucky for her, I do.” He says, tugging your panties so they drop around your feet. “Suck his cock, baby, while you sit on my face.” He murmurs before laying himself down at the foot of the bed on the floor. 

You saunter over, eyes glued to Brian’s cock. Jesse still has his pants on, likely to prevent Brian from feeling bad. You position yourself over Jesse’s face, lowering down until you’re on your knees. His hands hold your hips, situating you over his mouth before lowering you completely. You let out a gasp as his tongue drags through your folds, your hand closing around Brian’s cock. 

You pump him a couple times before dragging your tongue along his dick. His eyes are glued to your face as you stare up at him, flicking your tongue against his tip. His lips part in a groan as you tease his cock, Jesse’s tongue doing wonders on your clit. You take him into your mouth, his cock heavy on your tongue despite the small size. You bob your head, mirroring Jesse’s rhythm as he sucks at your clit. 

Your thighs clench around Jesse’s head, his hands squeezing your ass as you grind against his face. You’re glad it’s unnecessary for you to breathe as Brian tangles his hand in your hair, pushing you further down his cock until it hits the back of your throat. You continue to stare up at him as you moan around him, taking his cock deep in your mouth. 

One hand grips Brian’s thigh while the other holds the top of Jesse’s head, your hips grinding against his face as he pushes you closer and closer to an orgasm. Brian is close as well, precum seeping down your throat as you continue to suck his cock as deeply as you can. 

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, tugging hard on your hair. 

His cum is salty and musky as it spurts down your throat, your hips jerking against Jesse’s face as he sucks at your clit, sending you into an orgasm. You moan and whine around Brian’s cock, wrapping your hand around the base and pulling yourself free. Your head falls back as you continue to grind against Jesse’s face, a breathy moan leaving your lips. 

You pull yourself off his face before you get overstimulated, Brian sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

“Fuck, that was good.” He groans, watching you as you pull yourself off Jesse’s face. His hand is pumping his cock, trying to get hard again. 

You can see the bulge in Jesse’s pants, large and obvious as he sits up. His face is glistening with your juices as he grins. “Fantastic isn’t she?” He says, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

“Fuck yeah.” Brian says, leaning over and kissing at your neck.

His hands trail up your body, pawing at your breasts. You crawl into his lap, straddling him as he tugs harshly at your nipples. You hiss out a breath, covering his hands with yours as you grind on his lap, slicking his cock with your juices. He curses against your throat, sucking another mark on the skin that will be gone by morning. 

You can’t help but smirk, guiding his hands down to your ass as you continue to grind against him. He begins to get hard again, poking at your pussy as you drag your hips against him. Jesse sits himself in the chair in the corner, his hand stroking his cock. You hold his gaze, a smirk tugging at his lips as Brian bites at your neck. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes, letting Brian maneuver you onto your back on the bed. You let your legs fall open, revealing your glistening pussy to him. He groans as he stares at it, manically stroking at his cock as he crawls between your legs. 

He’s only half hard as he presses into you, his hands holding your hips as he thrusts into you. You groan, hands closing around his wrists as he sinks into you as deep as he can. He begins moving with short, shallow thrusts, his hands moving to the bed to hold himself up. You let your arms fall back to the bed, framing your head as he moves, quiet moans leaving your lips as he ruts into you. 

“That’s it baby.” You moan. “Just like that.” 

He’s loud, groans and moans tearing from his lips as you squeeze around him, finally growing completely hard inside you. He’s not going to last long, you can tell as sweat beads on his forehead, his hair damp from the exertion of his thrusts. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groans. “Such good pussy.” 

You tilt your head back, meeting Jesse’s gaze. His hand is slowly stroking his cock. He’s got that glint in his eyes again, a smirk tugging at your lips before you let out a moan that would make a pornstar jealous. 

Brian’s hips stutter as you squeeze tightly around him, his cock throbbing inside you. You grin at Jesse, fangs glinting in the dim light of the lamps in the room. He rises from the chair as Brian continues to fuck you, moving to the end of the bed. You drag your hands up Brian’s arms, circling them around his shoulders before pulling him down against you, angling his neck right at your mouth. 

You meet Jesse’s gaze as you sink your teeth into his throat right before he can cum. You tear into his throat, cutting off his surprised yell as you rip at his artery, soaking your chest in blood. Jesse pounces from behind, sinking his teeth into the other side of his neck, sending more blood dripping onto you. 

Brian struggles but he’s trapped between you, his body jerking as you drink his blood. He tastes exactly how you’d expect, musty and sour, but it’s still blood and you’ve been thirsty all night. Brian’s body goes rigid before he goes limp, his heartbeat slowing in your ears until it stops. You drink the last of the blood that flows onto your tongue before pulling back, Jesse shoving his body to the side where it falls in a heap beside you. You stare up at Jesse, your face and chest coated in blood. He stares down at you, blood trailing down his neck from his lips. 

“He didn’t even make me cum.” You say, pulling Jesse down against you. Brian’s blood smears from your body onto his but you don’t care as you press your lips to his. 

“What a weak man.” Jesse groans, his cock throbbing against your stomach. “You should have seen it from my angle, rutting into you like a dog.” His arms cage you in, one hand cupping the back of your neck. “You are a goddess. You deserve to be treated as one.” 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling Jesse closer. “Then show me how I deserve to be treated.” 

He smirks, shifting his hips until his cock presses against your entrance. You’re slick and wet from the thrill of feeding, and from the unsatisfying rutting you had been forced to endure. He eases into you, stretching you still despite the fucking you had just been doing. You moan, clinging to him as he works you open. 

His lips press against yours, smearing more blood on your face but you don’t care. The bed is soaked, and so are you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care as Jesse slowly grinds his hips against yours. He groans against your lips as you clench around him, pulling his cock deeper into you. 

He begins thrusting into you, slow and deep, his pelvis brushing your clit with every movement. You moan into his mouth as his fangs catch your tongue, your blood dripping in his mouth. A shiver runs through him as he’s reminded of the night you turned him all those decades ago. He sucks on your tongue, snapping his hips harder against yours. You pull back with a moan, head tilting back as pleasure rushes through you. His lips trail down your neck, licking at the blood on your skin. 

“Jesse!” You cry, nails biting into his shoulders as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Don’t stop!” 

“Never.” He groans against your throat, getting close himself as you squeeze around him. “Anything for you, mistress.” 

You mewl at the title, pulling his face up so you can stare into his eyes as you cum, body trembling as white hot pleasure rushes through you. His lips part in a moan, eyes rolling back as he cums, spilling into you. His hips jerk as he fills you, body falling against yours. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as he whispers praises in your ear. 

He pulls free of you once you’ve come down from your high, rolling off of you and tugging you into his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder, trailing your fingers through the blood on his skin. 

“His wife will thank us when the police search his house.” You muse, draping a leg over Jesse’s. 

He hums, fingers tracing your back. “So will all those women.” 

“And the poor girls.” You say, getting comfortable against his side. “Another successful night.” 

“I agree.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Another creep removed from the world.” 

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @sinfulsalutations @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @ghostperson69 @captain_rexs_cyare @jediknightjana @jedi-hawkins @dalu-grantkylo @cw80831

[xthescarletbitch]

any married headcanons for kara (detroit become human)?

absolutely! however, i keep over-analysing my work, so i'm just going to hit publish. i hope you like it, anyway! i tried something new. :)

✦ kara is incredibly doting: kara is an amazing wife with extraordinary attention to detail. she will pick up on little quirks or mannerisms of yours to keep in mind for the future. once she learns a thing or two about you, consider it marked in her memory forever. she will usually play on this memory when she needs to, such as by cooking your favourite meal when she knows you’ve had a rough day or by setting up one of your favourite activities for a fun date. there are no bounds to kara’s love for you, and she will do anything to show you. after all, her love language is acts of service. 

✦ kara can get clingy at times: there is nothing kara looks forward to more at the end of the day than to be cuddled up in bed with her partner. she considers it the best part of her day, and honestly, you could say the same. even around the house, kara loves to come up behind you and wrap her arms around you, lovingly whispering “my wife” in your ear as she does so. her clinginess also shows up when you do household chores because she just wants to be by your side doing the same. 

✦ kara knows what she is getting into: kara knows the fragility of humans, and she knows that her time with you will inevitably end, one way or another (as you’ve reminded her many times). she doesn’t care, though. she loves you and wants to spend all the time that she can with you. she wants to be there to take care of you up until your last breath. you are the only one for her.

✦ you’ve got to be willing to work with her: kara has spent so much time being under the ownership of people that she sometimes forgets that she isn’t in that situation with you. she requires some independence and freedom. she must know she is her own person, capable of whatever she sets her mind to, and you are always willing to remind her of that. you tell her that she is seen, she is heard, she is essential. she is more than just a “household android” to you.

✦ it’s not just kara you’re getting involved with: kara and alice are a package deal. luckily, alice adores you. it wasn’t hard to win her over, and she was more than happy to see two of her favourite people get together and marry. alice is thrilled with having two very loving parents. you enjoy spending time together any chance you can, and kara will always look at you both with the most loving eyes. it means a lot to her that you get along, making her fall for you even more.

✦ kara appreciates the littlest things: kara loves the little things you do for her to show your love. she is especially fond of the fact that you both are a team and that nothing falls solely on one or the other. she has been through a lot and was expected to do so much that honestly drained her mentally. since being deviant, one of her biggest fears is to be reverted back to that state, but she feels far from it with you. so when she catches you doing something like the dishes, she just smiles. she doesn’t mind doing things like that for you, but knowing that it isn’t up to her makes her feel loved.

[welcomehomerp]

Meet my Welcome Home OC Lydia Spellman

(again if you see this on an account called @mysticgeekzartz that is my art account Then just posting my OC's on my roleplay account)

🩵Name: Lydia Spellman

🩵Age: 25

🩵Pronouns: She/Her

🩵Sexuality: Lesbian

🩵Species: Puppet/Witch

🩵Nationality: English

🩵Fleece color: Light Blue

🩵Hair color: Bubble Gum Pink

🩵Height: 5'0

🩵Clothing Preference: She usually likes to wear dresses by times she does wear pants but most of the time she likes to wear a little sundresses and hats but she also wears the basic late '60s early '70s A-line style dresses She also wears Mary Jane's or flats She works as a witch who makes potions to cure ailments or to help people out So that's when she wears witchy robes

About Her:

Lydia is a witch that came from the UK area, she moved to home to help out with her little potion business to help people out whether it's a basic ailment or you want to grow taller She always had a natural potion for that She forces her ingredients in the forest that's where she met Eve and fell in love with her because of their love of the forest and being kind of bo-ho, Lydia is more mature and a "straight man" compared to Eve who is a chaotic SOB.

She is very mature and very posh how somebody would say She really respects manners And as always the adult compared to Eve who acts like a chaotic mischievous elf And she's always putting Eve on their place they bicker quite a bit but it's always silly bickering nothing too serious and almost like slapstick style things. Eve can say something that will drive Lydia insane they fight about it then they make up because they have their soft moments.

Lydia is a very proud witch and takes her magic very seriously and hates it when people deny magic is real I mean she's living proof that magic is real cuz she practices making potions and natural potion like remedies She likes to use her magic to help people, and is very knowledgeable about plants and herbs, ect to make her potions she's a bit clumsy when it comes to her potions She thinks she made one type of potion but in

reality it either explodes in her face or it isn't what the person asked for like her example I have this headcan in story that she wanted to give Eddie an energy potion so he didn't have to lose so much energy overworking himself delivering packages but instead of giving him energy

it just made him grow big so he was a giant for a while until Lydia figured out how to make him small again only to get him to shrink as small as a mouse but then after a bunch of trial and error she did manage to get him into normal size so people are sometimes iffy about her potions even though she's insistent that they work

On her downtown Lydia likes to have a nice cuppa tea and reads her spell books practicing spells or if she's angry enough at Eve cursing her whether that is making her silent for a few days so she can't annoy people or shrinking Eve to put in her purse so she doesn't have to deal with her That's just the life of Lydia Spellman dealing with a chaotic wife

(That's all I'm going to say about Liddy If you want to know more about her maybe ask for a role play (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Fly Me To the Moon║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| FLY ME TO THE MOON | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 5.5k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), struggles of body image and self-worth, Joel gives off some himbo and “he’s so babygirl” vibes (an absolute chef’s kiss of a combo), these two dorks are so down bad for each other it’s stupid

| SYNOPSIS: Joel convinces you to take a weekend trip together.

✧this is the fourth installment of a oneshot collection but can (probably? sort of?) be read as a standalone✧

✧◦◦║ Part 1 ║ Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 5 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

“Damn, I can’t even remember, darlin’,” Joel drawls, thumbing circles against your leg absentmindedly as he looks up at the ceiling in thought. “Ppfftt. Years. Years.”

“And you were the one telling me that I needed a vacation?” you huff in a laugh.

“Time ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. I’m still right. You need a damn break,” he shoots back with firm but loving kindness.

The airport intercom buzzed with static overhead before an announcement by way of a way too chipper, absolutely-cannot-be-her-actual-voice informed you that your flight would begin boarding in 10 minutes.

“How’d you hear about this again? This deal package thing?” you ask.

“Buddy a’mine from work.” He’s studying the ticket in his hand and glancing at yours. He’d made you print yours out instead of just using the digital ones he’d been issued. Because of course he had. And in the same middle aged man fashion, he’d hauled you to the airport way too many hours before you actually needed to be there. You didn’t really mind, though. It just meant the two of you could sit and talk and relax for longer. A nice start to the quick 3 day vacation to Cabo San Lucas that Joel had all but insisted you take with him.

“Your work friends take cute little weekend trips to Cabo?” you snort. 

Joel smirks at the tickets as he reads over them for the 5 millionth time to ensure all the details haven’t magically changed since the last time he checked them. He pushes his glasses up his nose from where they had steadily crept down.

That’s one of the things you’d learned about Joel early on. He wore contacts almost exclusively when he was working on major projects or during the busier time of year for contracting - “safer’n tryna stack safety goggles on top of some glasses” - but opted for some seriously unfairly adorable glasses the rest of the time. He looked good either way, of course.

You follow the line of his nose to where the bridge of it now correctly supports his frames. There was numerous things about Joel’s appearance that you loved, but his nose had snuck into the lineup at some point. Probably something to do with how much you loved when he’d drag it into you when he was lapping you up, the tip of it bumping and stimulating your clit until you couldn’t take it anymore and–

The announcement overhead informs you that the First Class flyers could “ready themselves for boarding at this time.” 

“So do they? Bunch of manly, manly man men taking beach getaways?” you taunt.

He lifts an eyebrow and tears his gaze away from the tickets.

“No, just my dumbass buddy who’s on his third wife ‘n has managed to learn enough that a romantic gesture here ‘n there is a helluva lot cheaper than a divorce lawyer,” he chortles.

“Pretty good motivator, I guess,” you admit with amusement. “So what’s your excuse?”

“My excuse? For what? Bookin’ this trip?” he asks. You nod, and he shrugs. 

“I’ll be honest with ya, I’m tryna get into this girl’s pants, and I think a coupla beachside margaritas’ll do the trick. She seems like a bit of a slut, to tell ya the truth, but that works out just fine ‘cause I’m a slut, too.” He wiggles his eyebrows theatrically and grins at you when you playfully swat his arm. He leans in closer and grips the inside of your thigh.

“Truth be told, I’m hopin’ to catch sight’a her in this lil pink stringy bikini I’m rather fond of,” he rasps into your ear. You erupt in goosebumps and half-heartedly nudge him away with a bad impression of a chiding look.

“Yeah, well, let’s hope there’s not any turbulence or else the only thing you’ll catch sight of is that girl with her head down the toilet for the rest of the night,” you deadpan.

Joel makes a dissenting noise and trades his grasp on your leg for your hand. “Baby, it’s alright. It’s not a long flight. Promise. I checked the weather and all that. Sunny. Not even a cloud out there. It’ll be alright,” he soothes.

You’d let him know ahead of time that you did not like flying. You wouldn’t go so far as deeming it a phobia, but flying in general made you anxious enough that any amount of turbulence was enough to set you off entirely. You were too embarrassed to share the other reasons of why you hated flying. Joel wouldn’t have made you feel bad about it if you had, but you hated that it was even a thing in the first place.

It was a commonly shared experience that flying was little more than “sardines packed into a tin can” that commoners just had to deal with. Then of course there was the lost luggage or the crying babies or the seating disagreements. Common ground for just about anybody who traveled enough. There was a reason why so many comedians had made airline and flying jokes their bread and butter.

Then there were the additional drawbacks for “passengers of size,” as they were so lovingly called by airlines. Those who carried “more than their share” of poundage being seated beside - or worse, in between - smaller passengers meant you ended up a source of annoyance. An easy, uniting point of focus for disgruntled flyers to project all their grievances onto. How dare you squash into the seat like the rest of us, except you’re bigger so it’s somehow a personal insult to them that you’d make an unpleasant experience even more so. 

Because it was so preventable, right? Just be smaller. Eat less. Control yourself every once in a while. Put down the cheeseburger and go for a run every now and then. If you would just stop being so selfishly huge, the rest of us wouldn’t have to put up with your body spilling over into our seat. We wouldn’t have to deal with you shoving and squeezing past everybody because you don’t fit. You aren’t meant to be so big, that’s why you don’t fit. Take the hint and drop a few pounds. For our sake. For your sake.

Or at least have the decency to buy yourself two seats and spare us all the unpleasantries of being made to deal with your bad decisions, your lack of control, your lazy life that has made you too big. We shouldn’t have to pay for the consequences of your bad choices.

Yeah. You dreaded flying.

But how could you possibly put such a damper on this nice gesture from Joel? He’d been so eager and sweet to suggest it. He’d even bought the tickets before even talking to you so that he could guilt trip you into treating yourself to a vacation if you turned him down.

It didn’t take much convincing, though. The thought of Joel half naked and all to yourself for multiple days in a row clouded your judgment. Now that you were about to board, reality was sinking in fast. You tried your best to not let your anxiety get the better of you, but your leg was jumping up and down already.

Joel’s hand cupped the side of your face and turned you to look at him. “Hey, c’mon. I’m right here. I’ll stay beside you the whole time, alright? Get myself permanently banned from the airline when I pee into a water bottle instead’a gettin’ up to use the bathroom. Promise.” His playful attempt at distracting and comforting you works.

“That’s so gross, Joel,” you groan with a scrunched face.

“Just sayin. I’ll do whatever I hafta if it means you’re comfortable, baby,” he says in all sincerity. He brings your hand to his lips and trails a few kisses along your knuckles.

“Let’s go before I gotta chase you down and drag you onto this metal tube myself.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, feeling slightly more relaxed. You just hope nothing embarrassing happens in front of Joel. You don’t think you could stand that level of humiliation.

You hand your ticket to the woman, and she scans it wordlessly with a bored look. You walk ahead of Joel who calls for you to go ahead as he doubles back to the terminal seating where he’d dropped something from his pocket.

You move along the small boarding bridge until you reach a curve in it where you can step aside and allow others to pass. You notice the lingering looks from a few people. The tell tale “god, I hope I’m not seated next to her” expressions flashing before being politely buried and exchanged for a forced, tight-lipped smile. 

Joel finally meanders along and gives you a quick peck before you both board. Joel is walking in first and puts both of your overhead luggage away in the bin. His bicep flexes with the movement, and you think to yourself you might just be able to distract yourself enough with certain things to make this flight go faster.

You glance around the plane as Joel finishes loading up the suitcases and closes the cover. The flight is packed. You don’t spot more than 7 empty seats, and there are people behind you. Great. You should’ve looked at your tickets closer like Joel had because maybe then you’d know if either of you had the aisle seat. At least that way you could shove some of yourself into the aisle and give everyone else more room.

“You first, honey,” he prompts, placing a gentle hand on your lower back.

“Um, I’ll just- I’d actually just rather sit in the aisle seat,” you say. “I don’t know if either one of our tickets–”

“I got the aisle seat on my ticket. You take it, baby.” He slides into the middle and pats the aisle seat beside him for you to sit down. You shimmy as gracefully as you can, praying that the armrests won’t dig into your sides too noticeably. You breathe a sigh of relief when you settle into the seat without having to fight the vice grip of metal bars on either side of you.

 Joel lifts the armrests that divide the three seats. He wiggles with approval at the less confining arrangement and scoots closer to you.

“Mmmm thas’better,” he hums as he leans a kiss into the crook of your neck and grabs at the inside of your thigh again. His hand is working its way across your lower belly roll when you warn him under your breath to not get you worked up right now when you’re just gonna have to wait hours until he can do something about it. He doesn’t bother to hide the smug expression he’s wearing, all too proud of himself for getting you turned on so easily.

You anxiously await the arrival of the third person bound to put an end to the pretend private party you and Joel are having. You look around confused with a growing thrill when it appears that everyone has boarded the flight. The seat next to Joel’s is empty. You turn your neck to see if there are more open spots in the otherwise packed flight, but you can’t see any from where you’re sitting unless you stand to get a better view.

“I can’t believe we get the whole row to ourselves,” you whisper excitedly to Joel. 

He smiles softly at you, taking a moment to soak up the shift in your mood where delight has taken the place of anxiety. “You must be a lucky charm, baby,” he coos before giving you a quick kiss. 

It’s the usual spiel: exits are this way, put your own oxygen mask on first, don’t get up until the seatbelt sign goes off. Your last bit of nerves over securing the belt around yourself slip like grains of sand through open fingers when Joel leans over and buckles you in himself. As always, he plants a quick kiss on you before getting himself buckled.

He also unbuckles you once takeoff is done and everyone is “free to move about the cabin.” He cups your face, reminding you gently that he “told you it wasn’t gonna be too bad.” You grin at him. A small heat simmers from your chest to your cheeks at all the comfort and attention he’s showering on you, unaware of just how many things he’s helping you through.

When you repeatedly crane your head to look out the window, Joel asks if you still want the aisle seat.

“Oh. Sorry. I was just-No, I was just curious is all. The aisle seat is good,” you lie. 

Of course you want to have the window seat. Everybody loves the window seat. It’s the best seat.

But you never get the window seat because that would mean you would be stuck in the corner, nowhere to lean your body to give others room, having to hold your pee because you can’t scoot past the other two seats and don’t want to be the spectacle of the fat girl making everyone else in your row get up so you can get out.

So, yeah. Aisle seat is fine.

Joel rolls his eyes at you and pokes your thigh. “You’re in my seat,” he says pointedly. You start to argue with him that no, seriously, it’s fine! you want the stupid aisle seat and not the much obviously better window seat, but then he decides to play dirty.

“I’mma call a stewardess over here and have her remove the unruly passenger that’s refusin’ to give me my seat,” he challenges with a playful jut of his chin towards you.

“OHMYGOD,” you huff. “FINE.”

Joel squeezes over and past you, and you shimmy over to the window. 

“There is seriously something wrong with you, Joel,” you try to say as sternly as possible, but the wavering giggle in your tone gives you away.

“Shutup, baby, you love it,” he murmurs with a chuckle as he presses himself flush against the side of your back and rests his head on your shoulder. You both sit like that for a bit, looking out the window together with his hand holding yours in your lap.

The rest of the flight is over in record time after you amuse yourselves with the product catalogs in the seat pockets. You and Joel marvel at the dumbest shit that has ever been “invented,” and it somehow gets worse with each page. Joel mercilessly teased you at one point when you tried to hide your genuine interest at the lawn gnome that was fashioned like an accountant. Well, a banker. But still. Close enough in looks and all. And it was only $47.99 plus shipping and handling. Okay, that was an awful price for such a tacky, cheap garden decor item, but it was cute.

He still wouldn’t let it go after you landed and made your way towards the exit. “So lemme get this straight,” he starts with a devilish edge in his voice. “You give me grief for my ‘middle age man bullshit’ like, I dunno, gettin’ to the airport early enough so you’re on time for a flight, but I’m not supposed’ta say anythin’ about you tryna order from a damn airplane catalog?”

“Joel, you told me one time The Eagles made better music than Nirvana,” you scoff in defense of your position.

“That’s not what I said!” he huffs right back. 

You only have yourself to blame for the 6 minute Now That’s What I Call Dad Rock! explanation that followed with all the “complex layers” that “determine good bands from bad bands.” Joel was quick to drop the subject entirely when you casually mention that you knew he had Black Eyed Peas in his iTunes library. 

“Sarah must’a added that. Don’t even know what that is.” The nervous neck scratch and patchy pink on his cheeks suggested otherwise.

When you finally made it to your hotel, you can’t believe you’d ever considered not coming. Joel confesses that he upgraded the existing package for a “villa suite.” You considered lecturing him over “wasting his money on you,” but you settled for a “thank you” and a kiss when you correctly reminded yourself that this was for both of you.

You feel the hot burn of overwhelming contentment in your gut as you watch Joel list off all the activities included in the package. The snorkeling, sunset yacht cruise, and jet skiing all sound fun. The horseback riding, parasailing, and kayaking stand out as the biggest NOPEs for fat girls.

Joel calls down to the front desk to arrange the sunset yacht cruise for the two of you a few hours from now. He wants to shower - “fuckin’ airplane oxygen makes my skin crawl” - and you wave him off as you help yourself to some fruit the staff has left for you on a decadent looking platter arrangement. You hear the water cut on in the shower. You open the sliding panoramic glass doors to listen to the water from the beach that makes up most of your view.

You feel cliche the moment you think it, but you really do feel like you’re in paradise. Not just the location, either. Here, with Joel. Who pushed you to do something spontaneous and fun and spendy. Who comforted you the entire plane ride. Who made you feel special. Who still hadn’t pressured you to put a label on your relationship and seemed content that you were mutually exclusive and just needed more time to adjust to the idea of getting into another serious relationship so soon after you broke off your engagement with your shitbag ex Michael.

Another side of you was nervous for this trip because it was a very undeniable “couple in a serious, longterm, committed relationship” move. Not that Joel had ever mentioned it as such or even made you feel that way. It was all in your own head, like most of the things that held you back from doing what made you truly happy.

You shake your head and decide you’re going to focus on the amazing time ahead of you. Just as soon as you can get the price of your plane ticket from Joel so you could balance your digital register and pay him back. You’d talked him into letting you split the cost of the hotel package, but then he’d gone and upgraded it to this villa. You felt antsy about your airline ticket still being outstanding when you know Joel must’ve spent a good chunk of change for this nicer, more secluded lodging option.

“Hey, babe?” you call into the bathroom. He answers back with a watery yeah?

“Hey, how much did you say the ticket was? For the flight?”

A beat or two of silence. “Uhhh, I dunno off the top’a my head, baby. I can tell ya when I get out of the shower, though. Be just about 10 minutes, okay?”

“Alright,” you call back. 

You turn and walk back into the bedroom portion of the villa. You see Joel’s clothes discarded on the floor. His phone, belt, and wallet littered on the neatly made king size bed. A thought crosses your mind that makes you smile. You pick up Joel’s phone and stare at the lockscreen. You didn’t know his password, but you didn’t have to. He’d unlock it for you if you ever asked to borrow it for a second. He wasn’t anything like the “suspiciously protective of their things” guys you’d been with before who didn’t want you to go through anything of theirs, especially electronics.

You hum to yourself and take a bite of pineapple. You’ve just come up with a little game, a test for yourself, to see if you can guess Joel’s password without any help from him. Worst case scenario it’d lock you out for a little bit and you’d have to wait to get your ticket price. Best case scenario you prove to yourself and to him that you know him like the back of your hand. That, and you can check his email for the flight receipt.

Hhmmmmm. Seven numbers. Must be Sarah’s doing. Joel wouldn’t go out of his way to add more digits to a passcode just to make it harder to get into. Path of least resistance was Joel’s general approach to technology. You take a bite of a strawberry. Then a mango. Oh my god, this shit is delicious. Fresh fruit had to be one of the best things on earth. 

Seven. Seven. Seven. Hhhmmmmmmmm.

Your face lights up. You know it. You know his passcode. It HAS to be this. You’d wager a good amount of money that you’re correct. You start to punch in the numbers.

8  0  0  8  1  3  5

It unlocks the second you hit the 5. You let out a victorious cackle. This DORK. Of course his password is “boobies” in numerical form. Of fucking course it is. Just when you think you can’t fall for this man any more than you already have, he goes and has that for his phone passcode.

“Fuckin’ perv,” you giggle to yourself with immense delight.

You are giggling and smiling to yourself as you click open his email. You scroll down until you see the airline name and then tap it open. Your brow furrows. The giggle that had been bubbling up your throat goes away in an instant. You don’t notice the sound of the shower being turned off or the rustling of Joel toweling himself off.

Joel’s words from earlier echo in your mind. “I’ll do whatever I hafta if it means you’re comfortable, baby.”

You stare at the screen, scrolling up and down and back again to make sure you’re reading it correctly.

“Everything okay? You aren’t answerin’ me,” Joel asks from the bathroom doorway. 

You turn towards him, and he can now see you clutching his unlocked phone in your hand. The glow of it reflects off your glossed eyes where tears are prickling at the brim. A look of realization from Joel.

“Baby, I– Please just let me–” he starts in a hurry.

“You bought three plane seats? You bought the whole row?” you squeak out.

“I’m– I did, but it wasn’t–”

“Why’d you do that?” you demand. You already know why.

“Baby, listen. It’s not like that! I knew you’d be annoyed at me putting up the money for first class, so I just did it this way instead. You weren’t supposed’ta find out,” he implores. 

He slowly approaches you, sensing the teetering mood that’s been set. His eyes are searching yours and begging for forgiveness all at once.

“First class? Because of, because they’re bigger seats? And-And a whole row so a third person didn’t have to squeeze in? So just me and you could sit together in the row?” you mumble. 

You make a frustrated noise when you start replaying the day. 

“Oh my god. The pocket. Your thing you said you dropped from your pocket? That you went back into the terminal to get? You didn’t even drop anything! Did you? You just needed to make sure I couldn’t see the lady scan two tickets!”

Joel swallows thickly and looks like he has no idea what to do or say.

Something akin to embarrassment threatens to take hold of you, but instead an overwhelming sense of love and security takes its place. Joel wanted to buy you First Class seats for a more comfortable flight, but he knew you’d get stuck on him spending that sort of money. So instead he bought an extra seat in economy class just so you could have enough room to move around comfortably. So you’d have a good flight. So you’d have a good start to the amazing weekend trip he’d planned.

“I-I did it because I-I just wanted you to have a good flight and be comfortable. Please, it’s not what you’re thinking. I know you get anxiety flyin’, and nobody fits good in those stupid seats anyway.” He’s a bit more frantic in his explanation now that you’re just staring at him, blinking slowly. He grabs your hands in his.

“Please. Please. Don’t be mad at me. Please,” he begs.

“Mad? At you?” You’re confused. Joel thinks you’re mad at him. For doing one of the most considerate things anyone has ever done for you and without any prompting. Somebody who’d probably never been more than 10 pounds “overweight” their entire life. Somebody who had no lived experience occupying a fat body. Somebody who because of those things would have to care deeply for someone to think of them in such an intimate, personal context. To even consider what their experiences were like. To imagine how they might be able to do something to make those experiences safer, nicer, more palatable for them. Joel had come up with this idea because he cared about you that much.

His head shifts sideways, sharing in the confusion. “Aren’t you?” he wonders.

“That is… the nicest thing… that anyone has ever–,” you break off when your voice cracks with emotion.

Joel’s expression softens when he gathers you aren’t furious with him. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before opening them again and wrapping your arms around Joel’s middle.

“No. I’m not mad. At all. You… You’re … Just.. I just….” You shake your head as you look up to him. Trying to collect yourself and your thoughts feels like the hardest thing that’s ever been done in the history of doing hard things. 

He shakes his head back at you. “You can– You’re allowed to be upset with me. I shoulda told you. I shoulda just told you the truth. I just didn’t want for you to, I dunno. Didn’t want you to feel embarrassed or somethin’. Not that you should feel embarrassed. Just that I thought you might feel embarrassed ‘bout it. ‘Cause of nerves or how you’d fit in the seats. Didn’t want you feelin’ self-conscious about any of it. Jus’ wanted you to be comfortable. Thought it was the best way to go about it, s’all. I know it was dumb. Shouldn’t’a kept it from you.”

“Take this stupid towel off,” you order.

“I-what?”

The quick turn in the conversation stuns Joel for a moment. You don’t wait for him to catch up. You shove the towel off his hips and let it drop to the floor. You walk him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed. A hard shove lands him onto his back against the soft mattress.

“The hell?” he mutters. There’s confusion in his tone but zero resistance to the surprising but welcome turn of events.

He’s sprawled out against the large bed, and you take the opportunity of his wide spread to start licking anywhere and everywhere. His hips buck at the first pass of your flat tongue against his balls. 

“Gahh-Goddamn. Fuck. The fuck is goin’ on?” he rasps.

You laugh at his suspended disbelief and bewilderment as you slurp both of his balls into your mouth and start a pull of light suction on them. A whiny moan grumbles in his throat at the sensation.

You release him and let the slobber drip down your chin. “M’showin’ you how not mad I am at you.” 

His eyes roll back when you take his entire length into your mouth with one motion. His hips jerk when you bottom out.

“Ooohhh-hngggg jesusfuckinchrist,” his voice crackles and strains. You work his length with such fervor that your drool is running down his shaft, dripping onto the curly brown hairs at his base, sliding in hot streaks down his ass on either side of his ballsack. You so rarely got to please him like this. He always preferred you riding his face or letting him titty fuck you. You hadn’t really ever shown him your particular skillset in this department, but you were sure as hell gonna clear that up today.

“Ba-Baby. Agh fuck. Lemme tast–” Joel is sputtering through his sentence, but it drops off entirely when you start to jerk him off and bury your tongue into his asshole. His legs snap up into a loose bend at the knee. His hand flies to the top of your head.

“OH FUCK,” he blurts out, raising his hips off the bed slightly for you to have better access.

You trade off between rolling  your tongue with firm presses against his hole and darting as much of your tongue as you can inside of it, and he sounds borderline hysterical. You move up to his balls again and suck them into the vacuum of your mouth more urgently than before. By the time you make it back up to his dick, he is blabbering absolute nonsense.

“Gah-jus’ wanna— hhhngggg, oh fuck haahhhhhh, christ— if I wanna – but wanna fuck your–”

A strangled moan cuts his incoherent musings off. The fact that this man thinks he can last long enough to fuck you? In the state you’ve whipped him into? Actually hilarious. He’s about to spiral, and you’re almost done showing him how not mad you are. You know what will get him there, and quick.

“Joel, shut the fuck up already and turn my throat into a daycare,” you growl.

“JESUS CHRIST, YOU’RE GONNA FUCKIN’ END ME,” he practically sobs when you take him into your mouth again.

You bob the tip of his head in your throat and massage his balls. His entire body stiffens as he grabs for your hair. He makes a sort of pained noise just before you feel him twitching inside your mouth. The loud, distress-adjacent moans ripping from his chest are almost enough to make you get off, too.

You work him through his release, swallowing and bobbing as his spend shoots into your throat. You don’t stop until he gently pulls you off of him.

You are a complete mess. Slobber and cum dripping and sliding every which way. You couldn’t give less of a shit. Joel’s astonished, blissed out look right now makes your day. You wished your phone was closer to you could snap a picture of him, looking like he’d just seen a sleep paralysis demon do a long division math problem before running off to play hopscotch with some Keebler Elves.

“You okay?” you laugh as you crawl up next to him and wrap your arms around his neck. He turns to look at you with wide-eyed awe. You can’t help but crack up at his astonishment.

“You’re acting like nobody’s ever sucked your dick before, Joel,” you gibe.

“NOT LIKE THAT THEY HAVEN'T.” His voice perfectly compliments his expression. Bewildered. Satisfied. Reverent.

You laugh again. You made mental notes of your performance. Save that routine in your back pocket and bust it out when you need it. A real “BREAK GLASS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY” type blowjob. Always a good thing to have.

“Told you I wasn’t mad,” you titter. You place wet kisses against his neck and snuggle closer. He relaxes against the bed and slowly comes back to his senses. You feel his chest shake with a laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?” you demand.

“Turn my throat into a daycare?” he echoes your words back to you. He sniffs an impressed, incredulous laugh through his nose. “Absolutely foul, Roxanne.”

You bark a laugh at his use of your full name. You could probably count on one hand the times he’d used it, and it was always when he was being very serious about something. The fact that he’d used it in this context felt like the funniest thing you’d ever heard in your life. When your rolls of laughter subsided, you took him to task on his declaration of you being “foul.”

“Uuuhhhhh, that’s real rich coming from the guy who has BOOBIES for his passcode! If I’m a pervert, then you’re a pervert,” you assert.

“Damn, guess you’re right,” he tuts. “Sounds like we really deserve each other.”

Your breath catches, and you lock eyes with one another. You don’t think he meant for it to sound as meaningful as it did. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times before settling for silence. His face is so open yet impossible to read.

“Yeah. I think you’re right. I think we do deserve each other,” you agree in a low voice and a shy smile.

Joel wordlessly brings your mouth to his and captures you in a slow, deep kiss. It feels like he’s saying whatever it was that he couldn’t just a few moments ago. For now you greedily take what he’s able to communicate, but you know eventually you’ll both have to work up the nerve to talk about it and say all the things you’ve been saying through touches and gifts and looks and gestures and acts of service.

But for right now, you’re just going to take the time to enjoy what’s right in front of you.

me, to the characters I am writing and putting into the very specific situations I'm reading: OH MY FUCKING GOD, YOU TWO JUST KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY AND ADMIT YOU LOVE EACH OTHER

me, before anyone can ask why this is being posted before the sub!Joel fic that was supposed to come out next:

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

[heavyhitterheaux]

Jack and fl go on a night drive

AN: they’re around 21 in this and this is when they are living in Atlanta after Jack got signed to Generation Now

You had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours even though Jack was laying right next to you. It was always easier for you to fall asleep when he was, but so far tonight, it wasn’t happening. You knew that he wouldn’t want for you to be awake by yourself, so you simply started poking him.

“Babe.”

“Baby.”

“Jackman.”

He started to stir before turning towards you and opening his eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I can’t sleep.” You said with a defeated look on your face and Jack suddenly got a bright idea.

“Put your shoes on.”

“Where are we going?” You curiously asked before sitting up in the bed and he simply shrugged.

“Nowhere in particular.”

The two of you had been driving around for about thirty minutes after getting food from a KFC that stays open 24 hours and you simply looked over at Jack and smiled. He caught on and smiled back at you but not before turning red as a tomato.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He curiously asked while turning his attention back to the road.

“I just think about how your life is really about to change and I’m so happy that I get to have a front row seat to watch it all happen.”

“Correction, our lives are about to change. We’re a package deal so you know wherever I go, you’ll be right there alongside me.” He answered while taking your hand in his and massaging small circles on the back of it.

“I just love you so much and you’ve worked your ass off to get this far,”

“I love you too and you know it’s only up from here.” 

“I know I’ve told you this before but, just promise me something.”

“You know I’ll do anything and everything when it comes to you.”

“Never lose sight of your vision and the people that helped you get to where you’re going to go. Don’t forget why you started.”

“That’s why I have my baby to keep me grounded, and I promise. And my other goal is to upgrade your ring.” He answered while looking over at you.

“I only wear it when I’m around you anyway so people won’t find out.”

“That doesn’t matter, when I make my first million that is literally the first thing I’m buying. My wife deserves the world and I’m going to give it to her no matter how long it takes me.”

“I swear you’re too good to me.” You quietly said before turning to him and smiling.

“I meant it when I said that I would always take care of you. That’s something that is never going to change.”

[alexanderlightweight]

Happy Wednesday!

If it tickles your fancy, I would love, love, love, love, love a fic of any flavor in the Mob Wife Alexander Lightwood universe you just casually yeeted onto my dashboard because that's obviously going to live in my head rent free for the next many moons. <3

(What a world omg)

Laws i love this verse so it will always tickle my fancy to get prompts and saeth keeps sending me things that boost my interest. Well this is definitely a flavor in that verse and I hope you enjoy it because it took a turn I didn’t imagine it taking.

Seriously I never planned this character to be in the fic or ever write from their pov and then it was like ‘oh hey interesting let’s do it”.

So this is basically an interlude after Alec’s figured he could either be a bodyguard or a boytoy and only one of those gets to flirt and touch Magnus all night.

Simon pov (he’s an unreliable narrator, prone to rambling, anxiety and dramatic and humorous interludes and he lacks so much info)

Alec is just like: I would just like to get back to my husband. he doesn’t sleep as well when I’m gone, so please talk as little as possible and just listen first.

Simon: I’m so glad I can’t breathe. If I move he’ll kill me.

(also mob wife is an occupation not a gender role but Simon doesn’t get that… yet)

—

“Simon.”

And Simon shivers because Alec Lightwood doesn’t need to raise his voice to be terrifying.

And Simon is terrified.

Officially.

But also not overwhelmingly so.

Because he’s also finally seventy percent sure Alec won’t kill him, which is much better than the fifteen percent Simon thought it was until recently.

Though in a crisis, he’s also the one Simon wants to hide behind.

Even in the beginning, Simon’s chances were always better with Alec, even if they both complained about it.

“Okay, yeah right. I’m Simon.” He hears himself say and he reminds himself to take a breath even though he doesn’t need to.

A lack of heartbeat and oxygen only mean that even Simon’s own body won’t save him from panic anymore.

“Yes? I know you’re Simon.”

And Alec says it like it's an obvious conclusion but Simon is just really happy to hear him say it, especially without a threat.

Because Alec isn’t the kind of person who is casual with most people and Simon is almost nothing to him.

Sometimes Simon worries he’s just another body to Alec — one in the congo-line-of-lovers that Izzy has had — but then Izzy reminds him he’s the only boyfriend Alec’s bothered to remember the name of.

And Simon is also one half of Clary’s package deal and boy, that sure did him no favors when they first met.

He takes pride in it.

“Simon—“ Alec says and he’s sighing, deep and long and Simon wonders if his inattention and eagerness has once again doomed his — now second — attempt at living.

Well living while being dead but Simon might actually stay dead this time if he lets his thoughts keep going.

“The greenhouse?” Alec is asking him and Simon wonders why until he remembers how much he hates Alec’s office.

The greenhouse is the only other place Alec takes official meetings.

And something shivers down Simon’s spine.

Because Alec doesn’t even like him but he’s noticed Simon’s dislike.

This is an Alec that’s trying to be careful.

So just how much does Alec notice? Simon wonders and the little part of his brain that he’s learned can save his life tingles.

Where does it end?

“For the love of, Simon sit the fuck down and breathe every fifth count.”

Simon finds himself on the hard marble of the Institute’s unfamiliar greenhouse floor. His head between his knees and a too heavy hand roughly smacking his back in sets of five.

There is brightness on his face when he finally opens his eyes.

“This is sunlight!” He accuses angrily, because he finally trusted Alec a full seventy percent and now this.

Betrayal!

“Simon you’re a daylighter. You were blasted by the soul sword and survived. You’re fine.”

And Alec doesn’t sound sympathetic and Simon winces because well—

Okay yeah. That’s fair.

Plus Alec has seen Simon drunkenly dance naked in the sun and that is a memory neither of them talk about.

It actually calms Simon down, because if Alec refrained from killing him when he plastered his naked body to Alec’s and yelled ‘teach me how to fight future brother-in-law!” Alec had in fact, spared his life.

First by not killing him.

And secondly, for not telling Magnhs that Simon’s no-good-very-bad-brain decided it was perfectly reasonable to cop a feel of Alec’s ass with vampiric strength.

It’s not a bad ass.

A little flat but very muscular with thighs that could break a neck and Simon tries very hard not to work himself back into a panic.

He does not need Alec Lightwood bringing him down from a panic attack while he thinks about how he nakedly gropped Magnus’ Bane husband’s ass hard enough that Alec had sighed and in the medical bay he’d dragged Simon to, activated an iratze.

“Magnus is going to know that these marks aren’t his.” Alec had said casually, “and he’s not going to like it. I really didn’t like it. You certainly didn’t like it either, if you know what’s good for you. So therefore, this never happened.”

And Simon is never ever going to tell even Clary that he did like it.

He’d liked it very much and he’d suddenly understood Magnus’ instant obsession.

Which had turned into a new crisis.

Because Simon’s taste is apparently Lightwood’s.

Which is not helpful for his continued life expectancy.

Because it will either be Izzy for eyeing up her married brother, Magnus for eyeing up his husband, and Alec for Simon’s sheer audacity.

“Simon, do I need to get someone else?”

“No!” Simon manages to get out because Alec Lightwood-Bane can never find out that he snapped out of the panic attack three minutes ago and almost sent himself into another panic attack because of said man’s ass. “I’m good. I’m good.”

Alec doesn’t look impressed but Simon knows he must not look very impressive.

He doesn’t take it personally.

Alec isn’t impressed by anyone besides Magnus, unless he’s impressed by someone’s stupidity.

And that never turns out well.

“Okay, so what can I do you for? I mean for you. What can I do for you?”

Alec is eyeing him like Simon is Magnus’ awful snake Baby.

Which is rude.

Because Simon has seen Alec with that nasty little worm and Alec is much nicer to Baby than he is to anyone besides Magnus and Madzie.

“Okay so listen carefully. This is a lot of information I’m going to give tou. Magnus has several identities in the mundane world. Some of them are linked legally but most of them are involved and hold a great deal of power in mundane crime groups.”

“Magnus is a mob boss!” Simon gasps out in giddy delight and then Alec is ruining his joy like the grumpy dilf he is.

The grumpy dilf he is not.

Because Simon doesn’t even know what a dilf is and he’s never been so glad that Alec can’t read his mind.

“No Simon. He’s not actually running a mob or gang or whatever else you’re thinking. He’s simply a powerful individual and is known for his information and skills and he has a lot of money. Nobody wants to be on his bad side. Everyone wants to be on his good side. So he has the authority of someone high-up and even the mundanes behave in Brooklyn. I personally don’t really care how Magnus got his status or how he maintains it.”

And Simon has so many questions but Alec has his—

if-you-interrupt-me-I’m-shoving-my-hand-through-your-chest-and-exiting-with-your-heart

— look on his face.

And Simon has seen that security footage. So he stays silent.

“It’s a persona that most High Warlocks do. Create identities in the mundane underbelly of their territories. Make sure the mundanes fear and respect them enough that they can come and go freely. They need to be trusted to keep an eye on any slip-ups. And no, they’re not undercover. They’re not doing the mundanes work for them.

“But Magnus and I quite honestly don’t care. We protect mundanes from the shadowworld, not from themselves. If the mundanes want to kill themselves and each other, that’s their problem. So long as they only do it in mundane ways and not with ties to the shadowworld. We don’t need the clave coming down here, bristling about the accords anytime soon, or anytime at all.”

And Simon swallows because he understands how serious this is, intimately.

Aldertree was sent by the clave.

He remembers Aldertree.

Izzy remembers Aldertree.

A lot of people remember Aldertree.

So he keeps focused, listening to the hummingbird-wing-beat of Alec’s pulse under his words.

“Magnus has done this for centuries. He knows what he’s doing. But we’d both prefer if I could go with him in the future.”

And Simon is practically vibrating because he’s nearly positive that he’s about to get a padawan.

Which, even in such a serious situation, is amazing!

“Which means I need to know more about modern mundane culture than I do.” Alec is grimacing and Simon knows it’s a testament to just how much Alec loves Magnus that he’s doing this.

“Magnus gets by because he has centuries of knowledge but I’ll need a crash course. And no Simon, I cannot read your mind.” Alec Lightwood’s eye roll continues to be a thing of beauty and Simon feels his undead soul un-die a little more. Because Alec definitely can’t read minds.

Or Simon wouldn’t continue existing.

“Look, Magnus and I went over a list of all the questions you might possibly ask. He gave me the answers so I didn’t have to waste time. We both agreed you’d be the best to ask, since you spend the most time around young adult mundanes. And you’re popular with your peers.”

Simon feels like he’s dreaming or maybe died again.

Except this is a much nicer if not possibly a more traumatizing experience than his first death so Simon concludes it has to be real.

His luck is always this bad.

“Magnus thought and I agreed that it would be just you and I, you tend to—“ and Alec trails off and Simon has a moment where he wishes he’d never drank Jace’s blood.

Because Alec is trying to be considerate.

Because he’s trying not to say that Simon can’t handle being in the same room with both of them after the incident.

It’s mortifying.

“Right, so do I need to call Magnus so he can join us?” And Alec looks very serious, eyes dark and calm and without a flicker of anger or of true concern. Alec is a good leader not because he cares but because he makes himself act regardless of care.

It took a while for Simon to realize that sometimes the people who care the most are the ones who let you down the worst.

And Simon winces, because Alec does look incredibly tired compared to when Simon saw him… however long ago.

“No sorry. I’m good, just a surprise. But like a good surprise, it’s like I’m Q and—“ and Simon trails off with a sigh because there’s no point and he is shocked when Alec runs his big hands over his scruffy perfect Lightwood face.

Or maybe it’s his Trueblood genes.

Whatever.

“Yes, okay fine. Simon you can be Q. But if you call me 007 or whistle that obnoxious tune I will give you cause to regret it.”

“You know 007?” Simon actually gasps, because this might truly be some epic dream and he doesn’t even register the threat.

Well, his hindbrain does and it’s screaming, but Simon can’t listen to it over the shockhold Alec’s words have put him in.

“Simon, consider who my husband is. Just for a minute.”

And Simon does consider it.

He considers how a delighted and charmed Magnus would coax Alec into ‘research’ for his ‘undercover excursion into the mundane world’.

“Oh my god.” Simon barely breathes out, “Magnus made you marathon them.”

And Alec is gritting his teeth. Simon can hear the grind of his incisors and he swallows, hard.

“Right. Absolutely no mentions of triple digits or shockingly appropriate theme songs.”

And Simon’s death flashes—

hunger the dirt the gnawing-bite-thirst-trap-feed of hunger and Clary’s screams

— before his eyes when Alec gives an exasperated sigh.

The moment passes and Alec is giving him a begrudging yet judgmental look.

“It’s often that the criminal part of mundane life is where the shadow world slips over. Magical drugs slip into mundane ones, easy money, anything goes. And no one cares about that except sometimes it leaves evidence. Unexplainable evidence that mundanes want explained. Right now Magnus is chasing a new rumor; and we’d like for me to be able to go with him.”

This is quite possibly the single coolest thing Simon has ever been involved in.

“So are you going in as his bodyguard? A new dealer of some super magic drug? Oh. My. God. Alec, are you going to be a rival boss or something coming in? Or a hitman? Are you going in as Magnus’ cleaner?”

And Alec is staring at Simon like he’s actually truly lost it.

Which Simon doesn’t get. They’re all obviously the best and most understandable choices.

“Simon, Magnus is my husband. Obviously I’m his mob wife.”

And Simon can’t breathe, but he feels the oxygen knocked out of his lungs.

Because Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane — a man who has prevailed heavily in both Simon’s nightmares and his recent and most horrifying wet dreams — wants to learn how to be a proper mob wife.

“Oy vey.” Simon manages to get out and then he looks up at Alec and blinks at his too-tall, too-powerful body.

And wonders how he’s supposed to guru Alec into anything that can pass as what middle-aged criminals will consider a wife.

Mob or otherwise.

Later they’re finally finishing up their first crash course and Alec looks worse than he did with his own arrow through his chest.

But he escorts Simon out, ordering his shadowhunters absently to various duties and checking in as he passes and Simon takes it in with a sudden wonderment.

Simon’s seen more changes of leadership in his short time as a part of the shadowworld than is normally seen in a generation.

And he got a much more up-close and unwanted personal view of how badly it can go.

And Alec is… he’s surprisingly really great. Even if Simon only has shitty examples to compare him to and so when Simon is walking out into the sun and Alec is going through a portal that appears out of nowhere, he lets his guard down and mutters.

“He’s so totally M.”

And just before the portal warps out of existence, Simon’s hearing picks up a quiet, irritated—

“Simon.”

And he winces.

Alec’s senses are frightening and Simon is a vampire.

[yakool-foolio]

Out of all of the Amaterasu employees that we see in the game, if you had to list them from most morally good to least, how would you list them?

Obviously, they are all terrible people in multiple ways, but I'm just curious

Hmm, interesting! I haven't even really considered how much they'd be weighed on a scale for their morality. I like contemplating new ways to 'rank' characters though, and the peacekeeper higher-ups, other than Yomi (and Hitman Zilch since they basically come in a package deal in my brain), do deserve some more attention from me, so I'll give it a go! I'll just stick with ranking the higher-ups since we have the most info on what we see of them in canon, so sorry Huesca, your judgement day will have to come another time (not to mention we don't have enough info on the specifics of how bad he really was other than him 'sacrificing others for his own research' and conspiring to kill Yakou's wife, but honestly that should be enough to send him into the murky depths of the river Styx). This list will go from least morally corrupt to most morally corrupt, but I think we can already tell who's at the top.

First off, it's our lil sickly guy Seth! Poor guy honestly did the least things wrong, probably couldn't even hurt a fly if he really tried. While he did threaten to sink the sub and arrest the detectives on scene, he did give them a time limit to investigate and find the culprit. It was a very restrictive time limit, but still a chance to save themselves nonetheless. He was just doing as he was ordered to by Yomi in regards to taking money from the church, who knows what would've happened to him if he disobeyed. Guess we'll never know, sorry Seth.

Next up is Martina. I've been debating on where to put her, but honestly compared to the others, she somehow manages to scrape by as the second least morally corrupt. Most of my reasoning is due to her actively realizing that Yomi was an awful influence and resigning as a peacekeeper. No peacekeeper other than Seth had that kind of hindsight of their actions being the cause of Yomi being Yomi. Martina's above Seth on the moral corruption list cause she still actively threatened to shoot two young detectives and definitely would've pulled the trigger had she not been stopped.

Swank takes a spot right smack dab in the middle on the Amaterasu morality scale. This dude is greedy af and worked alongside Hitman Zilch to frame Yuma for the massacre on the train. And he would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for that meddling chief! As soon as Yakou stepped into the scene, Swank's disposition took a surprising turn. He surrendered Yuma over to Yakou when he could've easily still arrested Yuma and moved on with his day. And yet, all it really took was for Yakou to say 'I'll tell WDO about your bad behavior and they'd be so mad at you >:T' and Swank took the hint and backed off. MAN DIDN'T EVEN GET BRIBED WITH MONEY! HE JUST TOOK THE L AND LEFT! That's the power of the charismatic blue father figure for ya. Honestly, Swank could've been ranked lower than Martina, but as far as we know, he never got that same sense of hindsight, so he could still be a money-grubbing, mass-murder framer to this day.

And now we move up to Guillaume and Dominic. These two are inseparable, so they shall be treated as such. I think its safe to say these guys like the thrill of hunting down Yuma and want to beat him and his allies to a pulp despite his pleas for mercy. They punch first and ask questions later. Not to mention they view all citizens as slaves, easily manipulated the power of Amaterasu. At least they gave up on harming Yuma when they were given the actual culprits, but Yuma would've easily been turned to paste if not for the detectives' intervention.

And finally, earning the top spot for most morally fucked by a landslide is Yomi! Do I even really need to go into the specifics about why this guy is so damn horrendous? Well, let's do a lightning round! Yomi hired a hitman to kill anyone who criticized or went against him (such as Yakou's wife), violently abused and almost had his 'girlfriend' killed, planned the Amaterasu Express Massacres, physically punished many of his coworkers, manipulated Yakou into killing Huesca, kicked down a dying Yakou, threatened to kill the detectives multiple times, and attempted to leak info about a militaristic experiment to create immortal soldiers to other facilities for some cash. Fuckin' bitch.