#and like. have been for a month and a half.

[tonycries]

Love Thy D!LF - T.F.

Synopsis. Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! Toji, voyéurísm, pánty-stéaling, male mast., exhibítionísm, he is so DOWN BAD, matíng presses, marathon s, víbrators, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, p slápping, p talking, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, PÚSSYDRÚNK TOJI, proposals, overstím, creampíes, shóoting blanks, he’s a tease that’s shírtless half the time, Megumi’s a real one, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.1k (PHEW)

A/N. Apartment building wouldn’t last a week if he was my neighbor.

Neighbor (UGH): another pair of those cute lil’ pajama shorts made their way onto my balcony again, ma.

Your neighbor was a tease.

Ever since you’d stepped foot into this apartment building a mere few months ago, it seemed like everything and anything he did was to rile your poor head up into a frenzy - and, well, down there…

Because, for lack of a better term, Toji Fushiguro was hot. 

Once your landlord had off-handedly mentioned that the occupant of the apartment right beside your own was a single father, you’d imagined a sweet older man that doted on his young son and would likely steer clear out of your way. 

What you certainly had not expected was for your housewarming gift of a fresh batch of cookies to be oh-so-blatantly greeted by a staggeringly gorgeous man that took up every inch of the doorframe. Shirtless.

Bzzt–!

Your skin burns with the realization of just how deeply you’d been reminiscing back to that heavenly sight, hastily snapping your eyes back onto your blaring phone screen.

Neighbor (UGH): well? hurry before i start to like them too much <3

Ugh, you’re rolling your eyes at that mischievous little heart placed at the end of his text. It was absolutely embarrassing how that was enough to have a tiny squeal slipping through your lips involuntarily. Calling you flirty nicknames, flashing winks your way, lingering his hands just slightly whenever he helped carry your groceries upstairs - Toji did everything. 

You find yourself giving your reflection a slow one-over in your phone camera - just in case. Before padding eagerly down the treacherous pathway that carried you out of your apartment and along the five steps down the corridor to your neighbor’s door. 

Heaving out a shaky breath, you knock.

And Toji Fushiguro never made you wait. He never had you standing in the hallway for more than two seconds before that heavy wooden door swings open…almost as if he’d been suspiciously standing by for this.

“Took ya long enough. Heh, I was beginning to think you almost wanted me to have it, doll.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit, you should’ve known - and it takes every ounce of will in your body to keep your gaze locked with the forest-green eyes sweeping down the expanse of your figure. Greedily. 

Because Toji was showing off what looked like miles upon miles of slightly-tanned, bulging muscles that were just about seconds away from ripping straight through the thin, white undershirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Molding to every curve and dip down, down, down- 

It’s not something new exactly, and if there was one thing you’d learned during your time here, it was that your eccentric neighbor wasn’t shy to show skin.

Especially around you. 

In one hand was grasped the soft fabric of your cotton shorts, swallowed up by his thick digits. The other propping up on top of the door to flex his strong biceps in a way that makes you gulp. 

You notice with a jolt that Toji’s pinkish tongue briefly peaks out to swipe over that sinful scar sitting prettily at the very edge of his smug smirk. Moving to hum cockily, “Cat got yer tongue?”

He knew what he was doing. 

God, this was already shameful enough without him making it worse. You were only grateful that so far you’d been called over for only a few sundresses and t-shirts - nothing scandalous, yet. 

“No-” you’re mumbling out. Trying oh-so-hard to not let your eyes flicker to the too-tight strain of his boxers around his thick thighs. Failing. “Just wondering how you probably need those shorts more than me, anyway.”

He didn’t - in fact, you’d prefer him without one.

A fat thumb of his finds its way to the hem of his boxers, tugging down so tantalizingly slightly to give you a sexy flash of skin. Lined with a sharp hipbone, and a dark happy trail - “S’that your way of tellin’ me you want me out of this, ma?”

“You wish, pervert.” You try to swipe at your shorts, only for Toji to dangle it far, far away from you. “I just meant those b-boxers look like they’ve seen better days. Years, even.” 

“Hah?” Toji’s dragging out mockingly, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. He’s crossing his hands, letting your sight be obscured by the display of his strong, rippling forearms. So close now that you feel his breath fan your face, could smell every waft of his cinnamony masculine scent. Grin only widening, “M’being nice enough to take the time outta my day to hand over your cute lil’ pieces of laundry and this is how ya talk to me? I have better things to do, y’know.”

Huffing, you’re ready with a quick apology on the very tip of your tongue to get this over with as soon as possible. That is, before-

“He’s lying.”

Both of you snap your heads down towards the direction of the sullen, deadpanning voice. And you already know by the wearied sigh at the end who it belongs to. 

“Why, hello there, Megs-” you’re smiling, reaching out to ruffle those spikes of black hair that’d magically manifested beside the door. Ignoring Toji’s affronted grunts of “he never lets me do that.”

“He’s lying, y’know.” Megumi blinks his eyes up at you, and you silently wonder just how it was possible for a six-year-old to look like he’s seen all the horrors of the world already. He’s ruthless. Pointing a sharp, accusatory finger up at his father, “He doesn’t have better things to do. He’s been giggling disgustingly to himself in front of the door for the past-”

“That’s enough- why don’t you get some homework done, my son.” Toji’s clapping his hand immediately over Megumi’s mouth, wrangling his tiny, thrashing body over one shoulder before briefly disappearing inside. 

“Just tell her!”

“I’m taking your iPad time away!”

It’s just about all that you hear from inside before he makes his appearance again - shaggy, black tresses now disheveled, high cheekbones flushed, and from the corner of your very obvious staring you notice a pearly bead of sweat disappear between his cushiony pecs. Though, your eyes follow, you didn’t mind…

“Tch- kids these days, right?” he’s gasping in a few hurried lungfuls. Planting the shorts into your open palms, his calloused pads linger on your hand. “S-so uh, I take that the dryer’s not working, yet?”

You’re sighing, rubbing your fingers over your throbbing temples. “Yeah, I told Higuruma- our landlord to look at it, but he’s still on that business trip and won’t be back for a while. Sorry about all this, Toji.”

“Please-” he’s waving. “You worry your pretty lil’ head too much, it’s not like m’complaining now. Am I?”

“Yeah but-”

“Besides. Why don’t I take a look at it?”

“What?” your brows scrunch together, and the thought of Toji being inside your home made your words tremble ever-so-slightly with- anticipation? Excitement? Want? Whatever it was, it made his dark brows raise, and you’re sure you had an utterly unexplainable look on your face right now. “Do you even know how to?”

He’s scoffing, eyes rolling at you with practice. “Asking me if I know how to fix shit- of course, I fuckin’ know how to fix a dryer. Probably better than ol’ clipboard Higuruma himself. You need to be taken care of, y’know.”

And, yes, that might be so - but more than that came the idea that Toji had to enter your home to do so. You couldn’t help but think of something else. Making you mutter out a heated, “I’ll…consider it.”

He smiles a smug smile, a tiny dimple digging into the very end of his cheek. “Tha’s what I like to hear, ma.”

The very second that door shuts, you’re rushing back to your own apartment. Shorts clutched to your thumping heartbeat and thighs slightly weaker than they were just a few minutes ago. Slightly…hotter. Ready to scramble back into your bedroom and create just a bit more laundry for tomorrow. 

And only a few seconds later does Toji find himself doing the most pathetic fistbump behind closed doors. The beginnings of a sleazy smile on the very edges of his lips. 

“Smooth, dad.”

“Now I’m serious about no iPad-”

Megumi’s running back into his room before that rasping threat has even left Toji’s predictable lips. Grumbling, he’s making his way to that godforsaken frog-cased iPad cushioned in the middle of the sofa, possibly to hide it away for a few hours.

And then, he sees it. 

Now, one of the very reasons that Toji had rented this apartment in the first place was for that idyllic skyline winking up from over his balcony. Towering buildings, flashing lights, all overlooking his living room couch - which, unfortunately for him - or, well, fortunately more like - just-so-happened to be positioned right next to your own balcony lined with laundry. 

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise for him to catch a fluttering piece of cotton or ratty sleep shirt of yours for him to tease about later. 

With a sigh at the flashing piece of fabric, he’s shuttering the sliding window open - ready to call your pretty self over again before-

“Shit.” Toji hisses, deep baritone wavering. His brows are raising down at the stray cloth, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. You really wear this type of shit? Well, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised but…

But this?

Because wrapped easily around his long fingers was a pair of pretty, pretty lace panties. Panties. All pink and see-through enough that Toji thinks he could see his own fingerprints through that flimsy excuse of underwear. 

All of a sudden…his hands mindlessly raise up, up, up - mere inches away from his nose when…fuck.

“Damn, woman.” he’s spitting, snapping back to his senses. Ignoring the tightening in his pants to speedwalk his hasty way over to his bedroom in search of his phone. Just a few clicks away from texting you- “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me I swear-”

And, see, Toji Fushiguro isn’t the type to stutter. 

He isn’t the pathetic type to let anyone else’s voice shoot a bolt of electricity down his spine - to choke right in the middle of his sentence. 

But, you always did throw him off, didn’t you?

Because he’s letting his maw slack open in a sharp gasp- no, shudder at the muffled, drawling sound from beyond the walls. Fingers loosening around his phone in sheer shock when he snaps his head towards his shared wall where your bedroom was. 

Where he could hear your honeyed voice. Moaning. 

And Toji gulps…before locking the door to his bedroom.

Like an animal, he’s immediately sneaking up to press his greedy ear against the wall where it was emanating from. Aching for every tiny gasp and whine, he could just imagine the way you were splayed out across your plush mattress, fingers buried deep.

So cute.

“Please- it feels s-so good.” Comes your cute mewl, followed by the buzzing vrrrr—! of what he assumes to be that hot pink rose toy of yours that’d accidentally gotten delivered to his address last week. And Toji almost snickers.

“F-fuck-” he breathes out shakily. Unabashedly listening for more, more, more- “Ya can’t be serious- what a treat.”

And Toji knows he should be the bigger person and stop listening, he knows he should ignore the sultry way your trembling moans were sending shockwaves down to his tight boxers. But he can’t.

“Ngh- r-right there-” you’re whimpering, and Toji tuts at the way he could’ve found your sweet spots much earlier. “-yeah- hah- jus’ a little more- Toji-”

His phone clatters! to the ground.

Did you just say…his name?

“Fuck-” One massive hand of his comes down to clap over his jaw-dropped mouth, biting back an answering moan coming from something dangerously dark, primal from inside his heaving chest. 

Shit, he can’t breathe - he can’t even think right now because every drop of blood in Toji’s entire body was sprinting down to his heavy cock smacking down his thigh. Rock-hard. Angry. Just twitching when your voice repeats his name louder. 

“Toji—!”

Ah, there it was again. And with it, he can feel every shred of his sanity being thrown away. Only once- twice was enough to get Toji addicted. To have his melty mind yearning to hear it again. And again. And again and again and-

Toji feels pathetic. 

Like some hormone-hazed, younger version of himself when his hands frantically fumble their way to hook into the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling absolutely zero guilt when he tugs-

Toji was hard. Painfully, furiously hard just from the mere sound of your voice. Swollen and sobbing. It was enough to have his fat, strawberry-pink tip smack! against his toned abs, smearing down a wet glissade of precum that makes him hiss. All but drooling at the scratch of your panties being wrapped delicately around his sensitive shaft. 

“Oh god.” he’s breathing out, thumbing over a wet glide on the bawling divot of his swollen head. It’s pooling like a translucent little puddle, wet enough that those pearlescent beads gloss a wet trail all the way down to his wrist. And he’s popping the salted-caramel digit into his mouth. “Wh-who the fuck do ya think you are ta get me this hard, ma?”

The fat curve of his thumb latches on to plug up the very ends of his cock, stopping himself from wasting a single precious drop before listening.

For anything.

“C-c’mon–” Toji lets his heavy body lean against the wall after a few more sloppy squelches that pull from your saturated cunt. He could already hear how dripping wet you were. How needy. “Wanna hear your hah- pretty lips talk-”

Toji’s sinking his sharp canines onto his lower lip to hold back a groan. Because as much as he loved to hear himself talk - hearing you moan was worth more than anything. Even if it cost him his rationality to quieten down. Please- 

Ah, his prayers are answered.

Because the wall slightly jitters with your vibrating voice once more. “Oh- sh-shit it feels so good-”

“Heheh, does it?” he’s grunting, drawing a slow wetness of swirls on the underside of his slit. Hard enough to send him seeing stars. “Tell me- t-tell me more, ma.”

And could you read his mind?

Because whatever’s left of it certainly seems to think so at the way that no sooner are the words spilling from his babbling lips that you’re feeding his blessed ears with a few more syrupy sweet whines. And Toji shivers when he hears the creak of your bed.

Damn…he could make it break. He’s sure. 

The thought is enough to send his hips rutting into his fist, furiously fucking up into it like he was angry. Like he wishes he could do with you-

“O-oh-” Toji gasps out a hot, condensed breath feeling the slight massage of your thin panties at his twitchy balls. He’s unsteadily picking its sticky cloth apart to press it even deeper into the drenched tufts of black at his hilt, down every thumping vein that’s lightning-bolted down his length. “This thing b-barely even wraps around my cock, doll.”

He’s hot. So, so hot. Latching onto the hem of his undershirt with his teeth to swipe across his sensitive nipples. 

Burning.

And, really, he didn’t know what was worse for his poor self - your noises from just the other room, or the way your panties felt so good down his cock in this one. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He twirls your panties around his fat hilt, meshing against the creamy pink at his hefty base. Fucking it up, up, up with pound after pound that half-leaves the poor thing in tatters. Well, he sure hoped you didn’t like this pair too much. “Probably so fuckin’ oh- wet now, huh? Did I do that? Didn’t know you were s-such a slut f’me.”

Every slobbering drag down his length has Toji’s dark brows knitting together. Back and forth back and forth back and- So hard. 

So hot and heavy. He could barely catch his breath, sweat perspires across his forehead, and Toji could almost taste the metallic tang of blood when he’s holding back every rasping ah! ah! ah! just to hear your voice. 

It was agonizing. 

And he couldn’t help but imagine the way you were probably toying your tired fingers over your clit - the way you’d probably be so shy at how he could so clearly hear you. Killing Toji that it was the only thing he could do.

SLAM!

“Shit-” Toji’s snapping his head up at the mindless way his free hand had come smashing down onto the nearby drawer for any shred of balance. Sharp ears searching desperately for any sign that you’d heard-

“Ngh- yes- jus’ a bit more-”

He breathes out a guilty sigh of relief when the saturated slurps of your cunt only continue. Filling his mind sloppily like his favorite song. Gulping in a harsh wad of saliva before spitting a thick stream right onto the very edge of his plump, reddish head. His hulking body wracks with a violent shudder as it drip! drip! drips down every tender spot on his swollen cock. Beading down to cover his heavy balls in a thin sheen of spit. 

“Look what you’ve done.” he’s spitting. Other hand coming down to rub lazy, massaging circles around his bulbous, cum-filled sacks. The sheer stimulation enough to have his head lolling drunkenly against the wall.

“M’so close-” Your voice only makes Toji fuck into his hand even harder - if only it was you. You, you, you - the only thing playing around his currently stupid mind. “-g-gonna cum ah-”

That makes him bawl out another furious wave of precum staining your panties see-through, glinting with every flutter down his raw cock. Faster. It was building and building up so close-

“C-close already?” he’s snickering, bending at the knees with how weak he was. Toji’s biceps flex and and ache with just how wildly he was fucking up into his fist, abs rippling with each wild buck. He half-wonders if he’d be able to see that pretty frilly pattern of your panties imprinted on his cock the next day. Over and over- “I woulda m-made you cum sooner.”

Would your beautiful eyes roll to the very back of your head when you did?

Would you beg him to cum, too? To fill you up. To breed you. Shit, that had his hefty shaft twitch in his hands, electricity flashing behind Toji’s eyes. 

Would you moan his name - oh, please moan his name.

“P-please-” Toji finds himself gasping, and his entire body was hunched over now. Pathetic. Waiting for any second that you’d reach your high - he was a gentleman, after all. “Cum f’me- ah fuck fuck fuck-” Twiddling a manicured thumb in a slow line underneath his sensitive slit, it was making him moan so dangerously loud. “-please- cum on this fuckin’ cock, ma.”

“Fuck! Toji-” Comes your yelp, and it makes his mouth water. Breath held in a choked-up gasp in his puffing chest, “-m’cumming.”

He could see it already - just how pretty you’d look with your head thrown back and your back arching into his cock when you finally reach your high. 

Now, Toji doesn’t know what overtook him to drag those drenched panties up to his face - to press it thoroughly against his nose and smell your essence. Breathing it in. drinking it in. But he can’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined it many, many times before. 

And it makes him cum 

It makes him shudder with a heavy puff of air, once. Twice. Before dumping and dumping out stringy wads of seed until your soft panties were soaked.

“Oh shit- shit shit shit-” he spews out a slurring slew of profanities, painfully hard cock bursting at the end with wet splatters of cum. So much of it. It’s making such a filthy mess that he almost feels guilty. 

Jaw clenching when he’s forced to part with your panties with a pained gruff, sliding it along his thoroughly coated cock. Hi cum seeps through the fabric and into a milky puddle that pools at his wrist, dripping down a milky sheen across his skin. 

“Mmpf–” his mouth salivates. A low, disappointed scoff bursting at the back of his throat when your own obscene noises quieten down. He missed you already. Dewy eyes veering to the back of his head, he’s only wondering how much prettier these would look on you. Still as ruined. “You’d be lucky to get these fuckin’ panties back, woman.”

Bzzt–! 

From its discarded place on the floor, he can read the notification flashing across the phone screen.

Cutie-next-door: I’ve decided - can you come by tomorrow to fix the dryer, pleeeease?

---

“-ah, ya see when this vent is clogged s’gonna stop working. And so what you hafta do is-”

You weren’t listening.

You couldn’t.

Because Toji Fushiguro was sprawled out across your cramped kitchen - completely shirtless.

You had half the mind to turn him away after he’d knocked on your door with absolutely no sign of any upperwear - that sleazy grin plastered all over his face begging the answer to whether this was on purpose. To tease you. “Can move better this way” your ass. 

But the thought of having even more of your laundry fly away, forcing you to potentially face this very same display multiple times is what had you opening your front door wider to let him inside. 

No matter how much you would’ve appreciated the view…

And so here you were, squirming in one corner of the kitchen while Toji worked on your dryer. Sweat sheening down his swole muscles, disappearing in tempting beads down underneath his low-hanging pants. Slight smears of grease decorate his pecs, and you have to cross your arms to stop yourself from thumbing them away. He was so handy. 

Shit, this was why you’d dolled-up just a bit more than usual. He was so-

“-doll? Doll.”

“Uh-” you’re yelping, blinking your eyes back up to meet an extraordinarily smug smirk now directed at you. “W-what were you saying?”

“Heh, I was saying you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he titters with a slight rumble, tools clinking when he’s taking off his bulky gloves. “Ya can enjoy the view later, but I was askin’ if ya had anything to dry right now to test this piece of junk.”

Urgently, you’re looking towards your empty laundry basket. “Sorry, seems that I dried them all out yesterday.”

“No pressure, besides-” You can only watch when he shuffles a hand inside one of his curiously bulging pant pockets. “-I came prepared.”

“Wh-wha- where did you get that?” 

Because held so daintily within Toji’s cocky clutches, dangled one of your missing pairs of panties. They looked recently washed, and you’re reaching with a yelp for it. Falling onto your knees to match his seated position - which, obviously didn’t mean he’d hand it over. 

Why would he? This was Toji Fushiguro. 

He only throws them into your dryer, before closing the door with a dark snicker, “More like why let them fly their merry way over to my balcony again. Honestly- you call me the tease but look who’s talking.”

“You’re saying I’m the tease?” you shrill. The embarrassment was getting to you now - it was overconsuming you - and if the leering smirk on Toji’s face was anything to go by, you were sure that it was visible. 

“If the shoe- or, well, panties fit.”

He was so cocky about his stupid lil’ joke. 

You stab a rude finger right between the valley of his pecs, copping a feel of the velvety smooth skin. “Sh-shut up, if you want to talk about a tease then let’s talk about who showed up to fix a dryer shirtless.”

“Part of the outfit.” he shrugs. Tilting his head up at you, and shit, it finally hits you how precariously close you two are right now. Toji’s splayed out on your cool kitchen tile, while you’re straddling his slender waist with jittery legs, pressed up against the heated proximity of his unfairly shirtless body. Chest-to-chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view, little miss had-a-fun-time-yesterday.”

You blink, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But in true Toji fashion, the closest to an answer you get is a large hand attaching roughly onto your waist. Jostling your body close enough for him to breathe out in a feverish chuckle - hot, and purposeful against your ear. “The walls are thin. Just sayin’.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. 

You knew exactly what he was talking about - and so did he. 

“...I heard you, too, y’know.”

Ah, you can now live your life happily knowing that you managed to make the ever-confident Toji gasp. You managed to make him part his lips in a slight gape, green eyes glinting with a hint of something dangerous as they widen. His sensory digits pinch at your hips. 

“You mean-”

“Yes.”

Uncharacteristically, Toji takes a few gulping seconds to find his voice. And when he does - the very sound is enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wonder for a split-second whether this was really him. Hoarse, pained when he muses, “You heard me and still continued?”

Instantly, you’re trying to form excuses. “No! I mean- yes. It’s just that…”

“Heh, cute. You continued because of me- didn’t ya?”

Your jaw drops in shock, now a slightly defensive tone bleeding in with the embarrassment of your actions. “I-I mean I was doing- it- just fine before I heard you.”

Toji cocks his head, and only says one thing - “Prove it.”

.

.

.

“T-Toji this is embarrassing-”

But oh, all that Toji was wondering was whether he’d knocked his head on that goddamn dryer and gone to heaven already. 

Because splayed out for all his pleasure on the cushiony bed was you - quivering legs straddled wide open, your back arched in such a delicious curve that makes his mouth water. Your silken sheets were disheveled and sloppy enough that you’d have to pray the dryer works now. Glistening cunt winking down at him eagerly, just begging him in cute, slurring squelches after every buzzing push of your vibrator.

And Toji? Seated right underneath your cute cunt - hovering mere inches away from sitting on his cocky smirk. 

All he’d been imagining. As gorgeous as how he’d imagined you yesterday- no, even more so.

Toji’s leering up at you, muscular thighs manspreading even more to show off his furiously hard erection. “Shhh sh sh-” Toji hums, eyes unwavering from right between your legs. “She’s the one talkin’ to me right now, doll.”

And surely enough, it’s almost like he’s having a conversation with your pussy. Nodding and drunkenly humming along to every slurp that resounds across the heady room. “Tha’s right, make her- make her even wetter for me.”

He’s letting loose his long pinkish tongue to catch the drops of your sweet, sweet juices that slide down his throat. 

His breath is so steaming hot against your cunt. Feverish. You huff out a dragged-out whine, kissing up your plump clit with the very edge of your rose toy. Just barely teasing the sensitive hood, “B-but I need you so-”

“Now now, what did I say?” he tuts away your stubborn moans easily. And you’re gazing over your shoulder upon the utterly unapologetic grin that falls across Toji’s face when he tugs down his own pants to flash you with the fat, rotund curve of his ruddied tip. Curling his fingers over the very top, “You don’t need me, remember- Let that pretty pussy talk with me or all you’re gonna do is watch.”

Except now you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to.

Your eyes are glazing over with a fresh wall of need when they fall greedily upon the peaking sight of Toji’s fat cock. So massive that it makes your jaw slip open, your cunt gushing out in a few gushes of slick. 

“Oh shit- shit-” his eyes widen at the sight, so thoroughly honed in. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking to you. Doesn’t even know. And a few ringing squelches is all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan. “That got ya wet, ma, didn’t it? Made your cute ngh- c-cunt happy?”

“Yes-” you’re gasping, winking away the overstimulated tears in your eyes. “B-but I want you-”

“Tell me exactly  what you want, doll.”

So bossy, you want to snap back. 

But right now you’re too hypnotized by the slutty sight of him to say a word. The way he seemed so ruined. That you can’t help but whimper, “I want you to hah- make me cum.”

And it’s just a split-second later when his brawny arms come wrapping around your jittery waist, hauling you over like some glorified rag doll to seat your fatigued legs down. Your dripping cunt meeting his mouth in a sultry, sultry French kiss. 

He doesn’t waste a second longer - almost as if beating himself up for all the time wasted - before dragging his tongue to open your presoaked folds. Swirling so hotly to smear them out across his lips, Toji dredges his raised scar across your most tender spots and moans. 

Sweet.

So sweet.

“This- this fuckin’ delicious?” He sounded like he was losing his mind, swatting aside your hand. “Move that fuckin’ hand. Y-you were- you were holding out on this? Could eat this cute cunt all the time- could marry ya-”

Proposing and proposing and kissing-

He latches down his glistening canines around your clit and pinches, almost as if a little punishment. And you could practically see the delight lighting up his dark eyes when your cunt slowly grows even more drenched. Little masochist, he’s thinking. 

You yelp when without any sort of warning his cheeks hollow out in a sudden suck at your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue over it. “H-how’s that feel?” he giggles - giggles. “Better than your imagination or what?”

It already was. 

But you couldn’t let his ego expand anymore than it already has, so the only thing you’re managing to do is trap a few sweat-dampened locks of his hair and drag your slobbering cunt down Toji’s mean mouth. Partly because you needed it, partly because you needed him to shut up. 

Choking out, “D-don’t get so full of yourself, Toji–”

“Full of myself?” he’s chuckling - face smeared with a translucent mask of glistening slick that told you exactly why he should be full of himself. It glosses over his curled lips and drips down Toji’s sharp jawline. “Full of myself? Gimme that-”

Instantly, your till buzzing vibrator is being snatched meanly out of your hands. “S’this what ya want, instead, ma?”

Toji didn’t expect an answer.

And you can’t give him one.

Because that furiously jittery probe is being bullied right between your puffy pussy lips, licking a languid line down the edge of your sloppy hole. Before he’s bullying the long end inside your eager entrance-

“Does it feel good?” he’s taunting. Sinking down onto your clit and pulling. “Oh yeah- feels great. Doesn’t it?”

But it’s such a mouthful that sputtered out into your clit. The vibrations of white-hot pleasure making your spine bow like such a slut into Toji’s ravenous mouth. And your jaw slack open in the most strained of whines, “Y-yeah feels so-mmpf-”

Immediately, your mouth is being firmly shut closed with one of Toji’s mountainous palms, and he snickers. Giving you pretty lil’ cunt a pat that has splatters of slick speckling all the way to his lips - ones that he gladly licks up. And then some at the remnant excess all over your thighs. “I was talking to her.”

“Y-you’re so mean.”

At this, he pulls back and blows a heated gust of air against your puckered hole. “And you’re fucking drenched.” That spearing bullet is lodged firmly against a few tenderized sweet spots that make you keen. “And she’s saying…s’not enough.”

You were sure he was talking for himself. 

Or…was he? 

Honestly, you don’t even know - you didn’t even realize what you were missing until the fat girths of Toji’s digits shove their filthy way into your narrow opening. Already so stuffed, yet, he’s scissoring aside the vibrator into the gooey depths of your walls. 

Either you could take him or he’ll make space. 

Whistling out in awe, “Dontcha think this feels muuuch better?” As if to whittle out another one of your syrupy sweet noises, you’re being gifted with another sopping wet thwack! against the ready nub of your clit. Before Toji wraps his scarred lips around it and sucks. “Look- she’s even fuckin’ wetter.”

You didn’t even have to see to be able to know - because you could hear. 

Toji was steadily pummeling your cunt with the most staggering smashes of the rounded curves of his fingertips into your sweetest spots. Jostling the vibrator inside, knuckles smashing it with friction to rub up against your constricting walls. 

Honestly, it was just so much. You felt stuffed. 

“F-feels like m’gonna explode.” you mewl at the heady thump! thump! thump! shuddering all across your body - and you didn’t know whether it was because of the thundering pulse in your ears, because of the way Toji’s fingers were crashing and thrusting against your tender g-spot. His neatly cut fingernails glide soaking wet grazes over and over in a sloppy staccato. “Ah! Right there, it f-feels so good-”

“Tch, you think I don’t know?” Toji’s rolling his eyes, muttering his words into your sopping slit. His free hand comes slamming down in a harsh smack! against your ass to make you lug against his face faster. “Ride yourself on me, ma.”

You stumble through it - yearning for more. 

“Faster.”

“I-I’m trying.’”

But it wasn’t enough. Obviously. 

And Toji’s impatiently revolving one hand around the curve of your waist to make you press down hard in the most sultry gyrations. Around and around it had him hypnotized. “Not tryin’ hard ‘nough. Cuz this pretty lady h-here’s just crying to cum, doll. Ya hear her?”

How could you not?

It’s all that you replay in your mind. Accompanied with a shot ngh ngh ngh that was curdling at the very back of Toji’s throat. Whispered into every graze of his tongue down your slit, you took a quick glance backwards to catch the way that he was properly fucking his fist now. 

Long, thorough drags down his achy cock to bead out wet sloshes of precum. Only getting faster. Sloppier. Red and angry-

“Shit.” you’re whimpering, hands steadying on either side of his bulging deltoids. It felt like your very bones were rattling along with the vibrator. Nails digging in to the muscle, “I th-think m’close- think m’gonna-”

And oh Toji’s eyes stray to the back of his head at how reminiscent this was of just yesterday. Snickering a heavy, “You ‘think’? I know she’s so fuckin’ close. Can feel her. Isn’t she? Gonna cum? Gonna make a ngh- mess on me, is she?”

Answeringly, he’s leaving another few smacks! on your mound that have your gooey walls fluttering, the double penetration of both the buzzing bullet and his fingers too much. Too close. You feel every delicate bundle of your nerves exasperate. 

And it’s impossible not to mumble out drunkenly - embarrassingly. “Sh-she is.”

It’s so rough.

Both your release and the way that Toji was fucking you through it - because the very moment he hears your breath hitch in a saturated manner similar to last time, he’s tugging out your buzzing vibrator and toppling it somewhere over the bed. Replacing it with every long inch of his heated tongue- 

Like hell he’d have you cumming on some damn plastic before his tongue.

“Shit- it feels so-” Barely managing to formulate the words into coherent syllables. Your body convulses when he swiftly pecks your pretty clit with the rose toy instead. “-so good- ngh! M’cumming m’cumming ah-”

Toji’s fucking you through your high with the double stimulation of his fingers and his tongues spreading open your snug insides mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Wave upon wave of pleasure that had your toes curling, vision flashing white. Sensitive pussy dredging up from the very bottom of his sharp chin all the way up to his button nose. 

It’s adorable how tired you were already, already huffing and puffing for breath. He could almost laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful already.

“Yeah tha’s right-” he slurps, more than talks. Thick digits curling tight and thumbing over his twitchy divot to wall up that velvety wisp of cum from escape. Leaving kiss after kiss to have your drooling cunt ride his sexy features faster. “-give it t’me.” Greedy. “Give it alllll to me.”

But even that didn’t seem like enough.

Because even after your aggressive orgasm was petering out into mere tingles at your quivering pussy, even after he’d slurped up every tiny drop of your honeyed juices - Toji Fushiguro was starved. 

So completely ravenous when he speaks, “I think…she’s sayin she wants ta squirt, doll.”

“Wh-what?” you’re breathing - you didn’t even know if that was possible.

With a surprising amount of gentleness, Toji’s placing you to sit all prettily on his spread legs. Just slobbering your pussy lips in an innocent smooch over his hardness. 

“Heh, what? Don’t trust me?” Toji cocks his head down at you in sheer smugness, a glistening gloss stained all around his lips. It made him look so fucked-out. And he felt like he already was - but Toji wouldn’t admit that. No, he’s only murmuring a wet, “Or are ya scared that m’gonna get ya ah- addicted?”

You showcase him with a slight pout that makes his riled-up cock twitch in one hand. That makes him immediately kiss it away - letting you taste him. Taste yourself. 

It’d already taken everything in him to stop himself from cumming just by making out with your cunt. 

“No s’just that- I’ve never squirted before…”

His words are sure. Confident. He’s echoing them from not too long ago, “Lemme take a look at that.”

And apparently Toji’s definition of taking a look is to slide the curve of his thick thumb in-between your dribbling slit. Up and down until his lips curl in a smile, “Well she’s tellin’ me that she can-oh shit, look at that.” Those very same fingers wrapping around the hilt of his thick cock to nudge your folds apart. “So why don’t I fix that, hm?”

God, Toji is so much bigger than he looked - which was staggering considering his sheer bulge was enough to send your mind reeling.

The curve of his fat tip bathes in a few more of your syrupy drops before bullying inside-

“O-oh my god-” Your voice wavers, sweat simmering all down your body at how dizzyingly Toji was spearheading your cunt open. Wide. So much of him that you didn’t know whether to buck your hips away or down for more, more, more- “S’too big- shit, don’t even know if I can ngh- t-take it, Toji–!”

“Oh, say my name like that once more n’ you’re gonna ah- hafta take every inch.” he grunts out, snarling smile making your gummy walls flutter around him. 

You’re being fed every solid inch, Toji’s girth making your tight circumference stutter. Gaping your sloppy hole wide open around his expanding cock- shit, just the slightest peak into your heavenly depths was enough to have his fat length swelling. Pushing into your tender sweet spots when he grows. 

“Y-you got even bigger?” you gasp, and it makes him cackle.

Throwing his head back to laugh, “Of course I got f-fuckin’ bigger when you feel like this, ma.” And two of his roughened palms glide their greedy pathway downwards to spread your thighs even further. Using gravity to his lewd advantage to help you gulp down your every mindless grind to simply fit himself inside. “W-where have ya been all my life.”

And Toji sounded like he was genuinely distraught that he didn’t know. 

He was genuinely so upset, lower lip wobbling with pure bliss once your overstuffed pussy was resting on his sharp hip bones. Giving an experimental little gyration of his hips to swirl his shaft around your walls, it makes you whine. 

“Tha’s what m’fuckin’ talking about.”

And then in a split-second, you’re being slammed onto your back and wrangled into the meanest mating press you never thought possible. 

It’s like Toji was out of control. 

Feral.

A slight trickle of drool trailing down the edge of his growling lips, “Shit- take my fucking cock ngh- take it all, doll. Ya don’t know how long I’ve been d-dreaming of this.”

“Yes yes yes-” you sputter. Edging your uselessly limp thighs to lock around Toji’s straining neck - and if he was going easy on you before. Then oh, you weren’t ready for the way this makes him snap his flexing body down to fold you in half. His sweat-beaded forehead knocking gently into yours, “-been ah- been dreamin’ of this ever since I m-moved in-”

Shit.

The thick pudge of Toji’s relentless head careens into the bullseye of your g-spot easily. And Toji titters to himself about the pretty moans that drag from your shot throat - that is, if he had the self-control.

Because your previous words were still thundering in his pussydrunken mind, and it makes him gasp. It makes him shoot his eyes open almost comically, it makes him crash his lips into your with a sullen hiss. “Give a man a fuck- warning. You c-can’t just say- things- like- that-”

As if to prove his point, he’s planting a few more heated French kisses against your sweetest spots. How he mapped them out so quickly you had no idea. 

His feverish breath hovers over your own mouth, gusts bounding out with every pound into your cunt. He’s bruising the circular branding of his sobbing tip down your spongy cervix, a tiny ah! of disappointment leaving Toji’s stern lips at the recoil that had him pushing back from the very bottom of your pussy. 

He’s so filthy. 

“Because what if–” It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s still babbling drunkenly, flicking over a calloused thumb over your clit to get your delirious attention. “-are ya listening, woman? What- ah- what if I told ya I was the fuckin’ same. Wanted to f-fuck this cute cunt the moment I saw ya, wanted to ruin her- to breed her-”

And just when he’s heaving in such a sharp inhale. As if he’s spoken too much.

Yet, even through the way that Toji was fucking you stupid - you still manage to latch onto his words. 

“Y-you wanted to ah- cum inside?” you’re blinking up at him innocently in a way that only made his hips jackhammer against yours harder. Teasing your sensitive clit with a pinch. “Tell me, Toji.”

God- you said his name. 

Shit shit shit, didn’t he tell you not to-

“Yes!” Toji’s shuddering out, hefty balls twitching and thwacking their tight, cum-filled sacks against your ass. He’s fucking you so wildly. The mating press that he had you in let him glide a wet thrust down every single nook and cranny inside you. Every forbidden sweet spot. “Wanted- wanted it so badly- ah-”

Batting your teary lashes, “How badly?”

Two of Toji’s mean fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, and he’s using that cutely ajar opening of your mouth to spit. A thick, honeyed wad of saliva that purposefully splatters along the edge of your lips - because Toji had perfect aim. He could’ve streamlined it all neatly between your lips.

But you looked and tasted so sweet this way.

When he could just kiss it away filthily with a drag of his tongue, “Shit- what a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Ya really know how to m-make me lose my mind, hm?” Splaying out one large palm about halfway down your stomach, he’s exploring for a lewd cylindrical nudge. A throb when his thickened head was smashing into your g-spot. “If ya i-insist- m’gonna fill ya up until I can feel it-” Pressing down. Hard. “Here.” And now he’s running his mouth a mile a minute, he’s dazed where his cadence grows sloppy. “Until you’re overspilling. Until yer all r-round and hngh- glowing and shit-”

God, he was flying too close to the sun.

Egging him on, he was fucking you into the bed like he was furious at you. Lurching out rickety creaks from the bedframe at his riotous slams! Teasing, “S-s’that it?”

“Is that it? I-is that it?” he’s repeating. Over and over like a humorless mantra. “No tha’s not- ah- fucking ‘it’. M’gonna shit- make you mine. Gonna fuck a b-baby or two into ya.” Shockwaves of electric white flashing down his spine when your gripping walls cling around him like a velvety channel. Stumbling through words, “So they’re gonna know- ah- th-they’re all gonna know what I did. Hah- how I ruined ya…”

You can only sob, “Toji– m’gonna-”

Stimulating tears gather up beside Toji’s eyelids with every pressurized ram, and he finds it in himself to rasp a drunken giggle. “G-gonna give Megumi a lil’ sibling, ma?”

He doesn’t have to hear your response, he doesn’t think he can. Because no sooner are you crashing into your orgasm that Toji is as well. 

He realizes before you - far, far before you at how you were squirting. 

Drizzling your juices in a coating gloss down his cock, his abs, some spattering up to Toji’s lips. He took a look into it alright. 

Your bolting waves of bliss intruded by his rummaging cock. Twitching once. Twice. Before struggling out thick gushes of sweltering hot seed. 

It’s splattering onto the very back of your bruised and battered cervix in a wet thwack! Oozing out the sides of your silt, you feel your gummy walls being inflated. The tug of ribbons upon ribbons of cum being fucked into sloshes inside and coats your melty walls like a second, sticky skin.

THUD!

Toji collapses onto his wearied forearms, caging you in with his big beefy biceps. Hips slowing down to tiny, subconscious ruts wrenching out the most obscene wet squelches. “Th-the heh- the fuckin’ bed.”

Only then are you batting your fatigued eyes open to realize that one side of the bed was sagging dangerously. “Toji did you b-break the bed?”

“Ah- so what?” And he’s scooping up your pliant body easily into his arms. Lifting you. Manhandling you. Pulling out of your split cunt for just a second to slam! you down onto your nearby work desk. The cool mahogany against your front makes you hiss, “I’ll jus’ t-take a ah- look at it.”

With this, he’s pressing down on the slightly bloated area near your cunt. Gaping. Gushing out thick remnants of his cum - it’s like he was playing around. 

The sight so heavenly that with a dragged-out gasp he’s finding his weepy cock blast out a few more wispy strands of cum. Shit.

“Shit- marry me-” Toji’s throwing his head back with a whimper - a whimper - when his jolting cock veers dangerously into the territory of shooting overstimulated blanks. “Marry me I-I swear. Gonna ah- put a pretty ring on ya, my doll.”

Which is why he’s swirling around his greedy pointer around your gaping entrance. Toying with the creamy ring of seed that’d painted its way around his thick base. Toji pools a few creamy dredges on his fingers and shoves them into your babbling mouth. “Ngh- Toji–!”

“Nowww, let’s see ngh- already finished off th-the bed-” he’s rattling off. Counting on a few fingers of his, “-we have the ohhh fuck- don’t squeeze m-me like that, ma, m’still sensitive- this desk, the floor- the dryer.”

“The dryer?” you mewl. “But you j-jus’ fixed that-”

“Ah, consider it a lil’ payment…along with those panties of yours, of course.”

And it’s only later. 

Hours and hours later, with your bed frame broken on one leg, your desk absolutely shattered, and your carpet soiled with a few whiteish rivulets that you’re finding yourself seated into a tight full nelson on top of the dryer. Toji still splitting you apart inside, shooting blanks before the front door rattles with a sudden knock! knock! knock! 

A deep voice resounding from outside, “Anybody home? It’s Shiu Kong. Higuruma sent me here to fix the dryer.”

“Fuckin’ Shiu…wanna let him in?”

---

“Hello, Shiu? How did the fixing go?” It’s by the next day that Higuruma gets a call in the middle of his important business meeting. One that would probably stay with him for a long, long time. “What do you mean the dryer is broken beyond repair?!”

A/N. Hope you all have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[ultramaga]

I had a case where I paid for same day delivery of a months food as I am disabled and they said they were having a strike soon. Half of the items were missing but I can't open the bags to find out what the stock is until they have photographed it and what with moving everything inside away from the hot sun, I am never going to be able to inventory it while they are here. So the dude had barely left. No problem, tried the contact number. It put me onto their ai, who told me I wouldn't get a refund. I kept trying to get a human instead, but the company had obviously decided human staff are way too expensive, so they put me on to the ai who made jokes and tried to sell me stuff, all the while pushing me to begin a reverse skynet, a Butlerian Jihad, a final obliteration of everything MADE IN THE LIKENESS OF A HUMAN MIND, BUT REALLY BADLY. Anyway, after an hour, I got through. The human thought it was likely that the driver had just left the bags in the car, but the HOUR LONG DELAY meant everything would have to be thrown away, assuming it wasn't already lining his fridge. They wanted to book a delivery for another day. I said no, I had paid for same day delivery and I really needed that today, it's not an option, and I pointed out if they had just let me call the driver pronto I would probably have been fine. They used to be a great service, seriously, you can't imagine how good it used to be, but then the quality was dropped and dropped and it is now done by uber or something. And they keep stuffing it up. I have exact directions as to how to find my place. They either don't get them or don't read or - I suspect - can't read english. So my neighbours, whose dogs love deliveries, yum yum, sometimes get them, or they thoughtfully put them on the road in the rain in paper bags in such a place that the wash goes through them, and the new greener kinder legislation means that the goods are now packed in paper, meaning they have to be chucked. There are times when I really get to empathise with the Unabomber. Man, maybe I shoulda been a hobbit.

You are not experiencing higher than expected call volumes. You refuse to hire sufficient staff to take care of exactly the amount of calls you should be getting as the facility you are.

[turquoizxe]

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

Ekko x Fem!Reader

content ― arcane s2 spoilers!!, drabble/hc; fluff, some angst, Ekko is absolutely smitten for the reader, friends to lovers, suggestive *in very few areas

author's note ― there's not enough drabbles/fics for Ekko and its pissing me awf. I must intervene.

wc ― 0.974k

Ekko wasn't sure if he'd find anyone else after Jinx

He had no choice but to live without her, even after experiencing what could have been had things been different.

It ate at him, constantly, knowing what their lives could have been, but he loved his home enough to save it

After the Vigil, Ekko kept to himself for quite sometime

He remained with his Firelights, continuing to redevelop his haven after everything that occurred

Remaining occupied meant he didn't have enough time to sit and think about all that had unraveled the past few months

On the days he was left in solitude, he sketched and tried to remember the best parts, or how to move ahead

He'd reunite with Vi every now and again, but she was busy handling her own business with Caitlyn. The environment had changed, and it was hard to tell if it was for the best or the worst

He would travel to Piltover more frequently, but it was harder due to the memories it held, and he didn't see much of a point in staying outside of grabbing supplies

You met Ekko while on a supply run, stealing the last stock of bolts he needed. He was having an awful day when you ran into him, so his demeanor was one he wasn't sure he had in him

Despite this, you still offered to share your bolts, if he wasn't being an ass, and if he showed you what he was working on for him to be so frustrated with a stranger

He was careful not to yet invite you to the home that he shares with the Firelights

You were understanding of his skepticism and invited him to your workshop instead, just outside of Piltover, but not necessarily in the area of Zaun

The device he showed you felt far more valuable than what you had been working on. Despite its rickety condition, he spoke of it so passionately, and you could tell this craft was something he was passionate about

You invited him back, and you gave him the hours you would usually be here if he was ever comfortable returning

After your first encounter, you weren't sure if he'd be back, but it shockingly didn't take long for him to return

What became maybe once a week, turned to twice, and then frequent visits

You'd both would often go on runs together, and when Ekko wasn't with the Firelights, he found himself spending more time in Piltover, but mainly if you were involved in that exploration

The first night after you met, he didn't get much sleep. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had made him feel that way; It felt so instant, without hesitation or question

He would have called you an idiot for being so trusting to a stranger, but he felt like a fool for the emotions he was already experiencing.

It was hard for him to process how the chemistry you exude when together was automatic.

As time went on, he let his guard down around you, when he was around you, it all felt natural. A year had gone by without either of you noticing

The night, when the anniversary of the Mass Vigil was held, he stayed longer than you both had expected, a lingering tension between the two of you.

Even without talking, the lack of conversation made him feel vulnerable― susceptible to questions he wasn't sure if he was ready to answer yet

The wounds were still so fresh, you had half the mind to not ask if he knew anyone that was lost in the war, but before you could ask, he went off into the night, leaving you to wallow in your own thoughts

Weeks had passed since you had seen him

These days, you don't hear much from Ekko. And even when you mourned his lack of presence, it hadn't taken much time before it started to anger you

Ekko had realized long ago that he had feelings for you. He often fought the urge to be defenseless around those he cared for most. He wasn't sure if that was possible with you until it was

He was so enamored with you and never missed a moment to brag to his colleagues about your brilliance

You reminded him so much of her, and you deserved to be your own person in his eyes. He feared that if this went any further, he'd try to create comparisons that weren't fair to either of you.

The more time you spent apart, he spent more time admiring the distinctions. The emotions you evoked from him felt foreign. He couldn't place a finger on it, but he wanted to explore it further

More weeks had passed before he showed up at your workshop, knocking at your door instead of climbing through the window like he used to. The change in behaviors made you pout a bit more than what was already plastered on your face

Ekko had revealed his creation, the device he had been working on for weeks. The bolts you had landed him were engraved with your initials

You sat him down, spending time to catch up. While you wanted to be mad, you weren't sure if the feelings you were experiencing were even mutual, until he made riddance of your doubts

He didn't make it back to the Firelights that night, spending the night wrapped and reveling in passion that had been festering itself. You had never been this intimate, the night filled with nervous laughs and mistakes, but it made him feel human again

The walls he had worked to build had swiftly crumbled whenever you came into the picture

There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for you, and he'd fight just as hard to save you

No matter the universe

― turquoizxe

[littlespoonevan]

your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

-

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

~

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

~

[gayeddieagenda]

❤️ 🎵 Number 9 if you’re still doing the prompts? thank you!! I hope you’re having a good day!

another scene prompt game! - 9: listening to the other’s heartbeat + ❤️ 🎵

--

“Huh,” Buck says.

Eddie knocks his ankle against Buck’s. “What?”

“I’m not trying to freak you out,” Buck says. He has his serious face on and that, more than anything, makes Eddie squint at him, suspicious. “When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I had a checkup a month ago, jackass.”

“Texas doctors?” Buck says skeptically. Eddie huffs at him. Buck adjusts his grip on Eddie’s arm, pressing his index and middle fingers more firmly into Eddie’s wrist. “It’s probably nothing. It’s just, I can’t find your pulse.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Buck!”

“I’m being serious!” Buck tries another spot on Eddie’s wrist, then another, shaking his head both times: nothing. “You should definitely have a pulse.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, deadpan. “What if I’m already dead?”

Six months. Eddie waited six months to see Buck in person again. Buck had made a noise like a dying animal on the phone, when they realized that he was going to be in the first hour of a 48-hour shift when Eddie and Chris got in from Texas.

Then, when Bobby asked if Eddie wanted to be scheduled for the last 24 hours of the same shift or wait four more days until his first shift back, Eddie signed on for the earlier shift without thinking twice about it. It meant not waiting a second longer to be back where he belongs—at the 118, on the job. It also meant this: seeing Buck for the first time since…since Texas, since everything, surrounded by all their coworkers.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says. “I have something else I can try.”

Buck releases Eddie’s hand. Eddie draws his arm back to his body, unconsciously reaching his other hand up to grip his wrist where Buck’s hand had been holding him a second ago.

Buck gestures at Eddie’s neck. “Can I—”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Buck said. His voice was low and frustrated through the phone. “Not like this.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, feeling furious, feeling lightheaded. Feeling alone, in a silent Texas house three sizes too big for him. “This is it. I’m here. You’re there. If you’re pissed at me, I’d rather you just tell me.”

Buck reaches for the collar of Eddie’s turnouts. He peels back the velcro strip covering the neck, then undoes the top snaps—one, two, three. He hooks two fingers of one hand on Eddie’s chin, tilting his head back. Sets two fingers of his other hand on Eddie’s neck, just below his jaw, in the divot just behind his trachea, just in front of the muscle.

It’s stupid. Eddie’s fine. He fell down, that’s all. He was rounding a corner to get back to the engine when a kid came sprinting around the other side, running at full force. She ran headfirst into his stomach and they both went sprawling on the grass. Buck caught up to them first, checking over the kid and giving her a sticker after telling her she should consider a career in wrestling. Eddie pushed himself up from the ground, angling to sneak back to the engine and drop off his gear. Buck caught his arm, giving him a where do you think you’re going? look.

So, now they’re here. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, parked in South Pasadena at two in the morning, Chimney’s classic rock radio station still playing quietly from the front seats. The kitchen fire that called them out was put out half an hour ago, but when the upstairs neighbor cracked his door to figure out what had brought a fire truck to his driveway, his cat bolted. Chim spotted her up a tree in the backyard—literally, a cat stuck in a tree. It doesn’t get much more stereotypical than that.

Chimney’s got it handled, apparently, though it’s been twenty minutes and he and the cat are both still in the tree. Eventually, he’s going to get the cat down or some new emergency will materialize from nothing and someone will come looking for Buck and Eddie—but for now, for a minute, they’re alone.

The pads of Buck’s fingers are gentle on the side of Eddie’s neck. His hands are warm. Buck presses in, just enough pressure on Eddie’s throat for him to feel it.

He’s looking Eddie in the eye while he touches him. Eddie looks back. He takes in a slow breath, feeling his throat expand under Buck’s hand. Watches Buck blink back at him. They’re so close like this, Eddie can see where Buck missed a spot shaving just below his sideburns, where Buck’s hair dried flat to his head when he had to pull on his helmet straight out of the shower. He can see where his eyes are crinkling at the corners, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“Nope,” Buck says. “Still nothing.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says dryly. “Do you need to start CPR?”

“I’m sure I can think of something else before it comes to that.”

“I’m not taking off my pants for you to check my femoral.”

“I wasn’t going to do that, Eddie. We’re at work.”

Buck takes his hand off Eddie’s neck. Eddie misses it immediately.

He backs up a little, as far as he can get in the cramped quarters of the ambulance. He rests his hands on his hips, giving Eddie an assessing look.

“I’m not pissed at you,” Buck said, voice low. “That’s why I don’t want to have this conversation now.”

“When do you want to have it?” Eddie asked. He’s angry, and he’s picking a fight, and he can’t stop himself, when this is how he gets to talk to Buck now: in broken halves of conversations, eight hundred miles away. “When you visit in six months? When Chris graduates high school in four years?”

“Come on,” Buck said. “That’s not fair.”

“Then tell me why you’re mad at me.”

“Would you like my opinion?” Eddie asks.

“Pretty sure I’m the firefighter here, thanks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Didn’t realize.”

“Here,” Buck says.

His hands are back on Eddie’s jacket, undoing the rest of the snaps and opening his jacket. He hooks a hand in Eddie’s suspenders, pulling lightly at them, adjusting Eddie until he’s sitting on the edge of the gurney, knees between Buck’s legs. Eddie goes easily.

Buck places a hand on Eddie’s chest, above his heart.

They’re at work, Eddie reminds himself. It’s two in the morning and it’s Pasadena, it’s the distant sound of Chimney going here, kitty-kitty, and the low hum of the radio.

Buck glances at the ambulance doors. They left them open a crack, but all they can see through the gap is the empty street, cast in yellow and red from the streetlamps and the fire engine lights. No one’s looking for them.

Buck turns back to Eddie. He leans in in one movement, replacing his hand with his ear to Eddie’s chest.

It’s awkward, kind of. The ambulance isn’t exactly roomy and Buck is folded in at a weird angle to get his face to Eddie’s chest. Eddie knows he still smells like the kitchen fire, like smoke and burnt fish and sweat. Any second, someone’s going to realize they disappeared and come barging through the ambulance doors and into this, into the tableau that is Buck leaning on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. Buck moves with it.

He was scared to see Buck again. He can admit that now, with Buck in front of him, the way he couldn’t when he was still in El Paso.

There’s a conversation they’ve been waiting to have. They started it a month ago, on the phone, Buck in his loft and Eddie in the kitchen of his rented house in El Paso. By now, Eddie’s pretty sure he’s figured out where this conversation is going to end. He knows he’s not going to find out here, in the back of an ambulance in Pasadena.

They decided, by mutual agreement, that they wouldn’t touch it until after the shift. They kept their word. Instead, Buck’s been doing…this. Messing with Eddie. Sticking close to him. Touching him, under the barest pretense of medical necessity.

It—this, them—has been an idea in Eddie’s head for so long that he started to lose track of what it was, exactly, that he was waiting for. It doesn’t feel real, that Buck could say something on the phone and a month later Eddie could be in Los Angeles again, cashing checks they wrote when they were eight hundred miles apart.

“I’m not angry with you, Eddie,” Buck said, low, into a phone speaker in Los Angeles. Into Eddie’s ear, in an empty room in El Paso. “I’m in love with you.”

Buck’s head resting on Eddie’s chest is real.

It’s right here. It’s the easiest thing in the world, for Eddie to put his hand on the back of Buck’s neck, where the soft ends of his hair curl. For him to breathe in, slow, and feel the weight of Buck leaning on him.

“Yeah,” Buck says finally. His voice is quiet in the back of his throat. Eddie can feel it in his chest. “Found it.”

[loreandletters]

The most important fact is that Jake’s is fine. He is a-okay with being left in a haunted cemetery. All alone. In the middle of the night. He’s also pretty poor, and since fear is costly, being fine and being is his only option. 

Ghosts? Psha! Try looking at his bills, those are scary. Eyeless ghouls? Good thing it doesn’t cost much to scribble out a talisman or sprinkle some salt. Some wannabe witches trying to summon the devil? Not on his fucking watch! Those candles leave a mess, don’t they know that?

People look down on cleaning, but doesn’t anyone realize that the sanitation department runs the world? Garbage men keep the streets clean, ushers man the stores, and Jake weeds and washes graves. What better honor is there than guarding the deceased from moss and mold? No better money too.

Jake’s lamp flickers as he pulls up another weed. 

“Money, money, money,” Jake sings, forcing himself not to rush, “must be funny, in a rich man’s world.”

The grave is illuminated poorly, the mossed over letters just barely spelling out ‘here lies Jasmine Helma, the sweetest wife a man could ask for.’ It’s also just barely enough to see the half-screaming ghostly face sticking out of the stone. Jake hums patiently, plucking more weeds that are growing at the foot of the grave.

80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year. Jake chants, the mantra beating religiously within his cranium. The numbers aren’t exactly accurate, but what rich man counts pennies? (he also heard somewhere that rhymes help ward off misfortune) 80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year.

Yeah, he hasn’t been here more than six months, so what? He makes it a year, that’s a six figure salary! All for picking weeds and scrubbing stone (along with the occasional security). He doesn’t need a degree or some nepotism (both of which he doesn’t have), just a spine of steel. Honestly, he doesn’t have that either, but for 160k he does. He’ll fucking sprout wings and fly if they asked him to.

….Jake’s really poor.

Not for long though, he promised himself.

“I’ll kill you!” the ghoulish face shrieked, mouth cranked inhumanly wide, unmoving yet still speaking, “you cheating manwhore! I’ll kill you!”

“I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay,” Jake sings. Ghosts like these forget they’re dead, and only repeat what the last thing they said before they died. It happens the longer they stick around. Their looks fade, their voices lose any recognizable lilt, leaving them with a dragging, wretched voice that is indistinguishable from any other ghost. 

“I’ll kill you! You cheating manwhore! I’ll kill you!”

 “Ain’t that sad?” Jake wasn’t shivering out of fear, he was just cold. Who cared if she was screaming? That wouldn't pay his rent, picking these weeds would. 

“I’ll kill you!”

“And still there never seems to be, a single penny left for me,” Jake fixed his flickering lamp, hand dipping into the bucket of soap and water to fetch the sponge.

“You cheating manwhore!”

“That’s too bad.” Jake began to scrub. He scrubbed around the headstone, around the ghost, and when he was done, everything but that one spot was sparkling clean. The night chilled his drying hands but Jake muscled on. 80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year.

“Cleaning again, Jacob dear?”

“If I got me a wealthy man, I wouldn’t have to work at all,” James' voice immediately became louder, singing now ringing across the graveyard, “I’d fool around and have a ball!”

The floating annoyance chuckled, “if that’s a yes to my offer, I’m afraid you’ll have to be more clear.”

It was a month ago now that he’d chased off the amateur witches. They were ambitious kids, and like all kids, stupid. Breaking into a graveyard to play with powers beyond their control, who does that? Without Jake they likely would have died. Unfortunately, they were skilled idiots. Skilled enough to summon something, just not a demon. Jake isn’t a witch so he can’t say what exactly, only that it isn’t one of hells many soldiers. That’s why the thing calls him by a fake name. He may not know much, but he isn’t stupid enough to be giving out his real name to anyone who asks. For some reason It’s stuck in the graveyard, and because Jake’s only job is to clean the graveyard not fix the graveyard, that isn’t his problem. It’s just another thing he needs to ignore.

“Money, money, money, must be funny, in a rich man’s world!” Jake has been singing this song for the past hour, stuck on a couple verses because he doesn’t actually know the whole thing, and he’s too scared right now to think of another. He’s fine though! Don’t lose it now, Jake. Remember, 80 bucks an hour, 160,000 a year - keep your eyes on the prize!

The next grave has a ghoul hiding behind it, the monstrous thing shivering as it tries to take refuge in the shadow of the headstone. They’re relatively harmless so long as you don’t start chasing them. Just to be sure, he has a shitty talisman that he’d haggaled a priest for, though to be honest he probably shouldn’t have bothered. They tend to feed on happier victims. 

It’s their form that unnerves most people; twig like limbs, far too long for the small torso they’re connected to, with muscles all distorted and twisted. Freaks folks out. Luckily, they're more shadow than physical, so he doesn't worry about stepping on them. He begins his process again, picking weeds and trashing rubbish. Must have been the teenagers again. Don’t they have anything better to do with their time?

“Money, money, money,” Jake sings, loud as he can. The not-demon thing trails behind him. 

“Oh Jacob, I could give you money and so much more,” the being takes on a young man's form tonight, chest exposed by an open shirt, the body underneath toned, skin shining in the moonlight as It lays back in the air. Confident in the image It’s made, as if Jake will fall over at the sight alone. “All you have to do is ask.”

Thick manicured hands run across the shapeshifted body in a lustful fashion. Tonight, the face is sharp and beautiful, wet lips and curly hair, with green eyes as sparkling as gems. There’s a pout on his lips. Last shift the thing had taken on a woman, and before that a large wolf, and before that, a cripple - anything to pull his heartstrings. Friendship, romance, companionship - what will it take for Jake to say yes? There’s only one answer, of course.

Money. Money is why he’s here. Best part? This job will get him all his desires without asking him for his soul. He’ll pay off his debts, his rent, his brother's medical bills and he’ll get to be alive to enjoy it. 

So, Jake grits his teeth and bears it. The ghosts, the ghouls, the not-demon; just sings, scrubbing at a leisure pace so that maybe he can get an extra hour on his shift tonight. I mean, c’mon, it’s 80 an hour. Wouldn’t you? 

You've been hired to clean a graveyard every night for 80 bucks an hour. Its haunted. And by god you are going to make that 80 bucks an hour

[dcxdpdabbles]

ok but office supplier is even funnier if jason hasn't been declared legally alive again and danny starts dating him thus allowing him to both be and not be part of the wayne family

"I have a date," Danny says one random morning as he refills the office snack bar. Danny, in his own words, is one of the highest-paid employees. He has chosen to create a snack center for all Wayne employees. He has one on every three floors, filling it with fruits, chips, chocolate, pudding, and drinks.

And a cabinet with free samples of stationery supplies he thought more people should know about. Next to the supplies, he wrote the name of the product, where to buy, and even recommendations of

Everyone felt really touched by this and started bringing snacks and drinks to help him. Half the time, Danny only refilled the stationary since everyone was happy to have a community snack bar.

"A what!?" Jack from accounting gasped. Danny didn't pay him any mind; he was too busy picking between the flower and moon mini-planners.

Both were pocket-sized, but one had a workout addition, while the other had a section to track books for readers. He felt like there were more readers than gym goers, but he didn't want either to miss out if he picked one over the other.

"A date," he responded after placing both options inside the basket. He'll have to wait to introduce the amazing erasable pens he found, but he could make it up next month.

"With who?" Demanded Sara. She worked in PR and had been attempting to have him attend at least three parties with the Waynes in the past month alone.

"Peter. I met him a week ago at a street fair. One of the personal pen makers I follow would have a booth, and I was dying to see them." Danny pulls a box from his pocket, showcasing the fancy navy blue pen. "This is the George Washington Battle of Princeton edition. It has the painting of the battle wrapped around it, with careful silver-golden details on the cap to resemble the colonial era and a golden-edged nib; this is one fine fountain pen. It cost me five thousand and nine hundred dollars."

"Danny, please focus- five thousand? You spent five thousand on a pen!?"

Danny puffs out his chest, smiling broadly. "It was worth every penny!"

"That's-never mind. Are you sure Peter is a good person?" Jack pressed, "Because I know a great man. Mr. Drake-Wayne! Wouldn't you rather go on a date with him?"

"But Peter bought me easrsers that were shaped like fried chicken. They came in bucket. See." He ramages through his bag until he pulsl out a palm-szed bucket with chicken shaped earses inside. "Isn't it cool?"

"I'll admit that's pretty cool," Sara conceded but shared a quick glance with her coworkers. Danny wonders why they all look so worried. This wasn't that expensive. Peter only used ten dollars for it. "Do you like Peter?"

"I don't know. It's just a first date." He shrugs. "I don't usually have those. Not many people are willing to listen to me ramble about stationary."

"You know who would love to listen to you?" Jack throws an arm around Danny's shoulder. "Mr. Drake-Wayne!"

"Mr. Grasyon-Wayne!"

"Mis Wayne!"

"Mr. Wayne!" Everyone turns to stare at Gary, who flushes, "Bruce Wayne, not Damian!"

That caused some head nods and a few scattered comments about how the age gap was still alarmingly large, but if both were consenting adults, who were they to oppose it? Danny stared back as everyone debated whether Danny and Mr.Wayne should date.

He glances down at his heart-shaped notepads and figures they are right. It's not like he has any feelings about this date. He just agreed to get the passers.

Taking out his phone, he sends Peter a message to cancel their date. He should go out with someone because he likes them, not because they may allow him to discuss his interests.

Jason despairs somewhere on the other side of town as he reads the text for his second persona- a living citizen Peter Todd- from the guy who he saw at the street market going gaga over pens. The guy was so cute, too.

[jaehaeryshater]

The King Come Over and his bride Ygritte Firekissed

art by : @shripscapi

Look at my King dawg we’re definitely getting through the Wall!!!

For the last month and a half, I have been working closely with Liesl to design concepts for Jon as King Beyond the Wall and Ygritte as his Queen. Personally, I’m not invested at all in Jon becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms despite him being my favorite character. He’s not very connected with the South and I don’t feel that it’s his birth right or anything, even being the son of Rhaegar. I am significantly more interested in him becoming King in the North, but my interest in Freefolk culture has led me to be far more invested in the idea of him rejecting Southron society as a whole and becoming King Beyond the Wall (this isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive to being King in the North later on).

The motivation for Jon becoming King as opposed to Mance stems from a theory that has been around since AGOT has come out: that the Others will only treat with/negotiate with a Stark. In the prologue of AGOT, when the Others are speaking among themselves before killing the Watchmen, what if they were confirming with each other that Waymar Royce was not a Stark and that they could go ahead and kill him? All in all, it doesn’t really matter if this is true, but rather that this is a plausible rumor that could easily have been passed down among the Freefolk which could lead Mance to conclude that Jon as a leader would give the Freefolk the best chance of survival. It’s not very hard, at least in my opinion, to imagine an AU like this, since survival is the most important thing to the Freefolk during the events of ASOIAF. But is it plausible that under these circumstances that Jon would abandon his Night’s Watch vows? I think so if he can be led to believe that only Stark blood could defeat the Others, but that is not the only factor. Jon Snow is insecure about his bastard status, plain and simple. He’s always lived in the shadow of his Robb, though he loved him. He’s wanted Winterfell, though he didn’t want to nor had any intention to take it from Robb. But he’s known since he was a small boy that he could never Winterfell and that would never inherit anything because he was a bastard. Jon also has thoughts, at least in passing, that Ned loved Robb more than him. He perceives Ned as having been more proud of Robb, of looking at him differently than himself. He’s seemingly always believed this, but there is a sort of confirmation of Jon’s feelings when Ned allows him to join the Night’s Watch without much preparation on what the Watch is actually like. Fully me making assumptions here, not something Jon has explicitly thought, but it’s unlikely that Ned would have sent Bran off at 14 to the Watch without much warning of what it was like, had Bran not become paralyzed. While we never get this exact thought process from Jon, in my opinion it fits into his psychology and insecurity. All this to say, if Jon is offered to be a figurehead, King, a title equal to his brother, but without taking anything away from the Starks or from Robb, that would almost certainly scratch that itch in him. It would be of his own merit, and there would be people behind him that don’t care that he’s a bastard, don’t see him as less than, and are willing to accept him for who he is. Not to mention that it also lets him feel like a hero and as if he is saving something far more precious than himself. And it probably doesn’t hurt that he would be able to remain with Ygritte as well.

We know from the descriptions of Mance and Dalla, as well as from being told directly by the former, that the King and his wife dress like all the other Freefolk, in thick furs. While the Jon and Ygritte arts from above are not particularly ostentatious by Southron standards, they are in obvious contrast to how Mance and Dalla are dressed. My idea was that Jon, having lived South of the Wall in a Lord’s keep all of his life, brought his own ideas to the Freefolk and added a distinction between a King and all other men. Nothing like in King’s Landing, all changes are inspired by his experience at Winterfell. I tried to think of what was achievable by the Freefolk, that would be difficult enough that it can’t be easily replicated for everyone else, but also keeping in mind of what could be done relatively quickly seeing as the Freefolk are focused on migrating South and saving themselves from the Others. The cultures I took inspiration for the clothing from are the Byzantines, Russians, Incans, Aztecs, and Mongolians. I wanted more “open” and flowy clothing, as opposed to more closed off and excessively modest clothing of 1300-1500s Europe that most of Westeros is based off of. Ygritte is still wearing furs, but they are dyed and there is weirwood embroidery in symbolism of the Old Gods and flame embroidery to symbolize her being kissed by fire. Her jewelry are simply clay beads that have been powdered blue. I didn’t want to give her any jewels as I felt it would be too difficult for the Freefolk to cut them directly and just overall would be against the spirit of the Freefolk. However, getting the blue on the clay like that still would be expensive and take a lot of time. I tried to keep the main color scheme surrounding gray as obviously that’s House Stark’s color. Jon’s clothes are similarly nice, with my main concern being him looking intimidating. I want the furs around his shoulders to be black because I wanted to call back to his time in the Night’s Watch without him keeping his psychical cloak, because I’m sure the Freefolk would not want him to do that. The furs are massive and make his shoulders look far larger, in an effort to make him look more intimidating, especially on a battlefield or in negotiations. He also has weirwood embroidery and his sigil is on the front of his outfit (my original idea was for him to have a flag with his heraldry on it, in which case the sigil would have looked far different, with a full length direwolf). There’s a white wolf on one side and either a crow or eagle on the other side (up for interpretation, both are relevant to Jon and one is one of the animals that can be used a symbol of the Freefolk) and the flame in the middle to represent Ygritte. The sigil is more than about Jon, after all, as it’s for the entirety of House Whitewolf, the House he founds. I thought the name fit far more in to Freefolk culture than something like Whitestark or something along those lines. Ygritte was supposed to have sewn on the sigil herself, and was very adamant about it, and that is meant to be why the thread is uneven and more visible than it ought to be. She’s not very good at the craft!

As I indicated before, crowns are not something common to Freefolk. That would be something else Jon would implement. Ygritte’s crown is very much like a hat, very casual. The beads are nice but obtaining them wouldn’t be unheard of, and holly most likely would not be particularly hard to come by. The reason I gave her a crown with holly is that during Christmas in the Tudor period and even before during pagan celebrations, people would go out into the woods and find holly and ivy to decorate their houses with. Holly was a symbol of masculine energy and ivy feminine energy. If you found more holly, it was meant to indicate that the man would rule the household for the year, and if you found more ivy then the woman would rule the household in the coming year (this was a way to “tell the future” not a rule lol). I liked the holly better for Ygritte so I’m just saying the Freefolk had the opposite belief. Jon’s crown is made of weirwood, which was important to me as I feel like his connection the Old Gods is also important as it is something that him and Freefolk both use to guide them. It ties them together. That being said, a weirwood crown is often used for Bran so I did not want to use a design that was too similar to the one used for him. Bran’s weirwood crown usually is made of weirwood branches, however, and not weirwood bark or logs, so I feel like it’s different enough. The frozen weirwood sap, as far as I know, is also unique to this design. There’s also some ivy to parallel with Ygritte’s holly.

The remaining bits and bobs I wanted to explain are the blue rose and then the face paint. The blue rose is obviously something associated with Lyanna Stark, who is widely accepted to be the mother of Jon Snow. I originally wanted to give him a rose somewhere, whether he was holding it or it was in his embroidery, but I forgot to ask during sketching, and then it was too late. But Ygritte holding the blue rose isn’t just about Lyanna. It’s also about Bael the Bard, a most likely fictitious person (or at least, the tale is fictitious, though I personally choose to believe it’s real) that went South of the Wall posing as a bard. He impressed the Lord of Winterfell so much that he granted Bael anything he wished; all Bael asked for was the most beautiful flower in Winterfell. This was granted for him, but the next morning he had stolen the Lord of Winterfell’s only child, a girl, and had left the flower in her bed in her place. He hid in the crypt with her for a year and they had a son together. Bael eventually went back North of the Wall and eventually Winterfell, having no other heir, passed to Bael’s child. Under this story, Jon is descended from Ygritte’s idol (maybe idol is stretching it, but she really likes him), Bael the Bard. Not only him, but all the Freefolk including Ygritte, according to her story. Following the story’s premise, Jon also poses as Bael and Ygritte as Winterfell’s daughter, with Jon joining her home under false pretenses and “stealing her”, as she calls it. So the blue rose has significance regarding both the Starks and the Freefolk. The face paint is inspired by tattooing done by cultures indigenous to North America. Indigenous Americans are not the only groups to use facial tattooing, the Vikings were famous for it as well, but Viking facial tattooing had more patterns based on shapes rather than lines and dots. I didn’t like the shapes so much, but the chin tattoo was one was that observed in all sorts of different cultures. Usually the chin tattoos with the line were on women in indigenous America, but I found some on men in other outside cultures. The dots I didn’t see outside of Native American culture and the claw marks on Jon’s cheeks I found mainly among Vikings. Because these all are an amalgamation of different cultures, we did them as face paint instead of tattoos because it seemed disrespectful otherwise. Not enough research went into it to be a proper representation of any one culture so paint was a better bet than a permanent body modification that is sacred to a number of cultures. The only thing that was meant to be a tattoo was the chin tattoo, which like I said, actually is from an amalgamation of cultures. Among the Freefolk (in this AU), dots on the cheeks are widespread, one of cultural mainstays of their people, and are generally a sign of peace, whereas the claws are meant to look intimidating and is applied to look like blood (Ygritte applies it for Jon) and is specifically used for military leaders. I really wanted to drive home the point that the goal with Jon’s whole look is to look fearsome.

I have so much more to say about Jon as King Beyond the Wall, how he negotiates with the Wall, the different rules he sets in place, how he sets up being King as a hereditary title once his daughter Bael is born, etc etc, but then I’d be here all day and approximately one person total read through all this. Oops! Ask in my inbox if you have any questions because I would love love love to answer them. All in all, shripscapi (Liesl) is so talented and she worked incredibly hard for me. She was extremely accommodating and changed as much stuff as I wanted. She never complained about the million times I decided something was not quite right and she sent me so many updates. I would recommend working with her to just about anybody. It was very cool what she was able to achieve and I got it in time for the holidays so I can enjoy my winter themed pfp on twt. So thank you from the bottom of my heart Liesl, and I hope everyone showers her with compliments because she deserves it. I also hope that people that don’t enjoy Ygritte very much can still appreciate the art and the concept of Jon as King Beyond the Wall. Hopefully I’ve gotten across how much I love and care for these characters to a chronically online degree and nobody accuses me of mischaracterizing them because that would make me!!!! very sad!!!

Bonus Jon with weirwood leaves:

[tsubasakruger]

Look, re: one customer acknowledging that a previous customer was an asshole: I currently have a total experience of four years and two months working in retail and the food industry, I have faced four Christmases, one New Year's Eve and one Independence Day (which is important in this context, being an extremely busy day in the sort of job I had at the time), and I have faced so many asshole customers I can't even remember half of them – matter of fact, I can't even remember every type of asshole I've encountered while working retail/food industry.

In all that time, and even through all those complicated holidays, I've only cried on the job once.

Want to take a guess at what happened?

A customer was an absolute asshole for something that wasn't even my fault, but rather a consequence of a shit ton of customers doing the same thing he'd been trying to do. Now, at that point I was well used to customers being assholes and blaming me for literally anything, and honestly once I managed to get him to leave I was just going to wait until the last customers left so I could rant to my coworkers and forget about the whole thing... which I would have, if one customer who'd been near the back of the line while this went down hadn't gotten to the front and sympathetically acknowledged that the guy had been an asshole and the problem hadn't been my fault.

I thanked her and finished ringing her up, asked one of my coworkers to take over the register, and promptly went to the bathroom to cry.

So, yeah. Be kind to retail and food service workers. Enough people treat us like shit, please don't be one of them.

People always gloss over how mentally damaging it can be to work in retail. I fucking hate that whenever I say “I could never work in retail again” someone has to reply “You snowflake millennials can’t take a starter job because you have to INTERACT with other people” No. Fuck you. I’ve worked as a planetarium host. I’ve worked as a public speaker. I’ve worked as a tutor and as a student teacher. I can work with people. I can work with crowds. Retail was fucking different. Retail was being treated as a subhuman. Retail was being treated so poorly that you have anxiety attacks before work. Having to work retail was a factor in my last suicide attempt. If I hear you say one fucking word about retail workers playing the victim I will personally break every bone in your body. Fuck You.

[ryuto12randomstuff]

Part of this fandom is having the time of our lives making lightcannon jokes and serverely missing out on how funny we can make these if Lux and Jinx actually met in a future league series

Like Jinx comes in with all the pre-established lore from Arcane: a city wide war, being the poster of a short lived revolution, the loss of her little sister/daughter figure, faking her death, killing of her entire family, a cult in her city, city was gassed, the drug trade in her city she was a part of and has been permanently altered by, walking away from the cycle of violence in Piltover to find peace

And that’s great but we can make a lot of jokes out of noble life Lux looking at this fucking street rat with half eaten circus tent pants and a half shaved head with a gun

Jinx is all “yeah I’m from Piltover”

And so Lux is like “oh yeah, city of progress that had beef with Noxus and like blew up or something. Y’all like invented hextech and stuff, I’ve seen paintings of the city it seemed like a great place to live”

And Jinx is like “lol no, I lived in a hole in the wall from Zaun. I was, for seven years, part of an organized drug trade. Before that I did small time crime with my sister and brothers, under the eye of our father. Before I left the nation I also burned down my dad’s bar. And I shot and killed my third dad. I faked my death. I was responsible for a prison break. I also killed three of my cities councilors. I was, for many months, actively a terrorist.”

“What the fuck—“

“Oh, and my sister is currently banging the Commander of Piltover.”

“The brutal dictator of Piltover?”

“Is that what they’re calling Caitlyn?”

“Your on a first name basis?”

“Nah, especially not after I killed her mom.”

“What the fuck”

Then she like; whips a crumpled up wanted poster out of her back pocket

[pricesprincess]

t. fushiguro x fem reader x s. kong | 8.3k wc

smut mdni | repost | monsterfucking | knotting

running away is never a good idea, but in this case, it was.

you needed a moment to get away from everything before it drove you crazy. 

your job was the one doing most of it with the hours you had to work keeping you busy and more than tired, so tired you didn't realize your heat was upcoming very soon. 

it would be one of the worst ones yet since haven’t had it in such a long time and without the suppressant that would get you through it, you were royally fucked, being in heat and being single was hell on earth and you hated it so you kept it at bay but at least your feelings and heart were left intact. 

your eyes twitched as you hunched over the desk staring at the computer screen scrolling through the cabins for rent, the place where you could walk around naked and enjoy the peace and quiet by yourself. 

people milled about the work area getting ready for their weekend off but you had put in the request a month ago to take a whole week and a half off. your heats could be tracked thank goodness so you knew the time frame and since you haven’t had one in a while you knew this could last a bit and be intense. 

after enough mindless scrolling you finally found the perfect place, nestled deep in the lush mountainside next to a running river, the description said the sun set and rose through the stained bay window that cast an array of colors over the hardwood floor and had a clawfoot tub with a beautiful view. 

it was a one-bedroom that faced the mountainside with a balcony to enjoy the view and nature next to a dead forest this time of the year, with no neighbors to hear you get off like a nymphomanic. 

the thin walls of your studio apartment didn’t muffle a thing. 

“what are you doing?” your friend and coworker ami asked when she came over to your station leaning against the counter, thrumming her fingers on the marble top. 

you let your eyes drift over to her then back to the computer looking at the pictures, the click sound was something that you were able to drown out since it was something you listened to daily. “getting away.” you replied flatly. 

ami understood all too well as an omega and had enough heats to know what it was like, especially when you have suppressed it for a while, the feeling of when it came on was like nothing else and you needed to be alone for it. 

she leaned forward taking the mouse from your hand to click on another tab with different cabins. “i rented this one for two weeks, it was so nice but the people are close and like to visit.” you looked at it and shook your head. 

your lips drew into a pout as you took the mouse back from her and went back to the one you wanted and filled out the form quickly hoping you could get the slot.

“i don't want to be near anyone, there are woods close by for me to enjoy and the closest neighbor is two miles or more away, which is perfect.” you hummed clicking submit making sure that it went through before exiting the homepage. 

ami stood straight and patted the top of your hand. “you should find someone to help you through the heat, it’s going to be awful since you’ve been suppressing it for so long.” she sing-songed further irritating you. 

you wanted to snap at her, instead, you sighed and leaned back in your chair. “not interested, i don’t need anyone to help me through this plus being mated with someone sounds like hell.” 

it was a scenario that you’ve seen too many times. 

before ami could say anything her phone began to ring on her desk pulling her away from yours to hurry up and answer it. your eyes shifted to the clock again, ten minutes and counting down until you were free for two weeks. 

even though it’s been less than five minutes you opened up your email in hopes of seeing whether or not you got the cabin, every three seconds you hit the refresh button hoping it would be there but nothing but more spam. 

with a sigh, you logged out and started cleaning up your desk stuffing everything in your bag not caring before shutting the computer off. “i’ll see you later!” you called out to your co-workers and made a beeline for the door shouldering it open to hurry up and make it to the parking lot before it rained. 

before work in the mornings, you’d watch the weather channel to keep up with it because more times than not it was always changing. as soon as you got inside the clouds opened dumping rain in heavy sheets coating your car. 

by the time you made it home, the sun had begun dipping below the horizon turning the sky into a burnt orange with streaks of red and yellows that would make a beautiful picture but you had no time for that, with your bag in hand you scurried to your front door thankful for the awning that kept you dry. 

once inside you dropped everything with a soft thud and kicked your shoes off hoping soon that you’d get an email about the cabin, however, seeing that it was almost six p.m. and it was a friday no one would be there to answer the emails but you were excited and ready for a change of scenery. 

standing in front of your wall calendar dressed in nothing but panties while eating ice cream from the small carton you were able to figure out the last heat you experienced was seven months ago and this one was going to be rough, all the built-up hormones were suppressed waiting to be spilled. 

they started to ooze from the cracks and chips leaving you on edge which only irritated you further because you didn’t even want to feel how hot you burned up or how long it’s been since you’ve been laid, almost two years. 

but it wasn’t like you were counting or anything. 

with a heavy sigh, you rested your head on the wall and shuffled toward the living room looking down at the faded slippers you wore, the ones that have seen all of your teenage years, now you were pushing almost thirty and still single. 

plopping down on the equally ratty couch that you picked up free from the internet once you were sure it wasn’t bug-infested, the owners at the time just wanted to get rid of it, trash turned into treasure. 

your eyes tried to stay glued on the tv but it was a fight you could no longer win and ended up falling asleep with your head leaning back and mouth open. 

hours later you jerked awake from the slam of the door that rattled the walls. 

“fuck.” you groaned when you saw the ice cream you had in your hand had melted and dripped down on the floor making a creamy mess, the vanilla looked like cum almost, and perhaps that was just because you wanted a load shot deep inside you, it made your blood run hot but you pushed that back to stand up and gathered your bearings before cleaning the mess up. 

your phone vibrated on the corner of the coffee table alerting you to an email, forgetting the rag and melted ice cream in front of you, you snatched it up and unlocked the screen to read your email for the cabin, the one you wanted was now yours for the entire week, all you had to do was get through was two days. 

the smile that made your cheeks ache couldn’t be wiped from your face no matter what, the place you picked was perfect, and the woods were somewhere you could gather food and you could bathe in the river, connecting with nature would help a lot to get through this heat. 

after the mess was cleaned up there was a pep in your step as you started to pack your bags before heading out to your car stepping in a puddle which usually upsets you, but even that couldn’t bring your day down. 

going back inside you changed your socks and shoes then you made it to your car and pulled out of the parking lot. 

even though it was just two weeks you couldn’t wait to get out of the apartment building you lived in, the too-thin walls sure didn’t help when your neighbor's headboard banged in a creaky rhythm or the couple upstairs who yelled daily. 

you twitched in excitement as you pulled up to the sex shop, you needed a few toys to help get off and you had saved up enough money for a sex doll, well it was only just the abs and the removable cock to fit whatever fit your desire. 

walking inside you looked around and then made a beeline for the other side, the back wall was lined with an array of styles, sizes, and colors. 

you scanned the plastic boxes wondering what attachment to change out for something new when your eyes landed on a werewolf cock, complete with the tapered end and a knot that was already inflated. you grabbed it along with a few more toys then paid for it and left the store counting down until you left. 

with everything put in your trunk, you headed to the store next and bought all your favorite things to eat and drink, along with a few books from the bookstore down the street and some cheap wine to help sweeten the deal. 

it was two weeks of self-care that you’ve been neglecting over the last few months and it was building until it was close to exploding and before you let that happen the cabin was your getaway from your problems that have piling up and you’ve been pushing aside until now. 

excitement filled your veins as you drove back to your apartment. 

once inside with all the bags you packed everything and looked at the clock counting down the milliseconds when you could leave and since you still had a day and a half you caught up on some work, sending emails and making phone calls to regular customers who even caught on to your rare good mood. 

“am i that grumpy?” you muttered when you hung up the phone and leaned back in your home office chair, the damn thing was creaky and soon you’d need a new one but with your current pay that would have to wait. 

another glance at the clock and it was nearing dinner time. 

64.media.tumblr.com

monday morning before the sun had a chance to come to the horizon you were already in your car, fingers twitching as you pulled out of the parking lot ready to leave behind your life for two weeks, and thankfully the ride wasn’t long. 

with your windows down the cool autumn breeze filled the car as you passed by knotty trees with bare branches with thick wet leaves of different colors at the base of the trunk, when daybreak happened it filled the sky with a beautiful orange mixed in with purples and reds that was picture worthy. 

which is usually what you would do, but the only thing on your mind was getting to the cabin and settled in before your heat hit which was supposed to be on tuesday and last until saturday or even longer, but you had worked enough overtime to cover a few more days if needed be. 

you had everything set in stone, this trip was important to you for many reasons. a way to get back into tune with yourself, plus this way no one would bother you or call the landlord when you bounced yourself stupid on a fake cock to quell the burning need for an orgasm. 

the radio played the local station at a low volume as the gps voiced the way to get to where you wanted to be the most, only five miles away from your destination your foot pressed on the gas pedal before turning right. 

your tires crunched under gravel as you drove slowly now to take in the scenery, it was breathtaking and it looked like something someone painted where it hung up for millions to see and oh and awe at it, pulling over you stopped and got out of your car to take a few pictures of the place. 

it didn’t take very long for you to pull up in the driveway, your jaw going slack at the beauty of the log cabin, the pictures did not do it justice, the backdrop for it was lush mountains with a few waterfalls splitting them apart that ended in a stream following the path toward the huge lake no doubt for fishing. 

climbing out of your car you left the bags in the trunk and walked around the place taking note of the firepit and the grill with a few chairs that looked comfortable, your feet crunched over the rocks as you peered into the thick of the woods on the edge of the property when the door opened scaring you. 

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. you ok?” a tired voice asked before revealing themselves, a woman who appeared to be in her seventies came out with a kettle hanging from her thin fingers as she eyed you. 

despite your heart beating louder than a bag of cans rattling around you nodded. “yes, i didn’t think anyone was going to be here…there’s not another vehicle around.” you answered confused about who she was and why she was here, when you got here you thought the owner would be gone.

you sent the payment directly from your bank account so you didn’t have to worry about this, you didn’t want to deal with anyone.  

the woman waved you in and shut the door once you were inside taking in the beautiful interior, almost everything was soaked in a deep red and muted browns, tan leather couches were in front of a large tv and the kitchen was small but it held everything you needed and the hallway only had two doors. 

it was an open floor plan with a large kitchen with modern time appliances. 

you followed her further to the kitchen where she sat the kettle back on the stovetop. “my name is may, i’m the owner. i like to greet people and tell them a few rules, or i suppose it’s to keep you safe.” she explained and poured a cup. 

“it’s nice to meet you. rules?” you asked wondering why it couldn’t be put in the email. 

“i’m glad you made it soundly and yes, rules. you don’t want to go out into the woods after ten p.m. the werewolves come over the mountains and a lot of them aren’t very friendly, they’d eat you up.” 

her voice rattled at the end as may turned to you with a chipped teacup. “thank you for the information, i didn’t plan on going in there unless it was daylight anyway, thank you for accepting my application. it’s very pretty.” 

may smiled taking the compliment. “you’re welcome, this property has been in my family for generations but i can’t live out here, my son will be picking me up,” as if on cue there was a car horn outside, “take care, honey, see you.” 

you followed her to the front door and hurried to check the kitchen windows making sure she got inside and watched as the truck kicked up dust leaving you alone finally for the first time in a very long time. 

after checking for cameras because you could never be sure you went outside in the cool october air inhaling the scent of nature, pine trees, and the dirt which never smelled so good. with your bags in your hands, you brought them inside before settling on the couch with the tea. 

the tv didn’t have much to offer so you shut it off and headed outside to the balcony that overlooked the lake with the sun glinting off the surface it was serene, this was what you needed. it was beautiful and for a moment you thought about moving out there, then thoughts of when you had to leave made you frown but that was two weeks away. 

turning back you headed inside and decided to check out the rooms, the bedroom was first. the walls were painted in that same deep red, with a four-poster bed and a mattress that looked like pure heaven, and a heavy oak dresser with a mirror shaped into a cloud on the other side. 

unpacking everything you double-checked to make sure there were no cameras before moving to the bathroom, it was small but still doable. the shower was a combination, and the sink was big enough to hold your stuff. 

ten minutes later you lay on the couch stretching your legs and looking up at the ceiling letting your eyes close shut eventually falling asleep until evening, when the crickets woke you up and for a moment you forgot where you were, in a panic you looked around and sighed plopping back down. 

after another five minutes, you finally got up to look out the windows only to be met with pitch dark until the outside lights were switched on flooding the front and back lighting the area up. you looked at the clock, it was only seven. 

may said don’t go in the woods after ten, there were still three hours to look. 

grabbing a jacket you pulled it on, shoving your arms through the sleeves before making your way outside, the crickets chirped louder creating a beautiful symphony of nature as the moon shone down casting a soft glow over the woods barely lighting up the mouth which made you nervous. 

broken-off branches from the storm that came through the other night snagged on your pant legs and crumbled beneath your feet as you wrapped your arms around yourself coming closer, a sudden painful howl that ripped through the night air that caused you to stop midstep and listen to it. 

it was a mournful cry tinged with a pain you never felt but you could tell it was a cry for something, may’s words of werewolves living close by rattled your brain, enough to make you turn around and head back inside making sure all the windows and doors were locked before turning the outside lights off. 

after sleeping you opted to make a quick dinner knowing that you’d be awake for a while, once everything was cleaned up you settled in the hot water in the tub watching the steam rise from the milky water, your body wash swirled in with it creating bubbles that lapped at your tingly flesh from the heat. 

seeping in the silence you felt your muscles relax, letting go of the tension you’ve been holding onto for longer than you should. stretching your legs out you used the new and very expensive body scrub that promised it would leave your skin feeling soft and supple, something you needed. 

a lot of your time was going to be spent in bed masturbating until your arm or fingers fell off from overuse and your legs would be spent humping the toy like a brainless horn dog until it was somewhat out of your system. 

you watched the water drain before rinsing yourself off and getting out of the tub with a towel wrapped around you, you stuffed your feet back into your trusty slippers and trudged through the house to grab some wine and settle back on the couch turning the tv on to let it play as background music. 

drowsiness set in again and you curled up in the corner pulling the heavy quilt over you and sat your wine glass down before eventually falling asleep again with the tv on casting a glow over the living room until morning. 

sunlight spilled in from the french doors and the stained glass of the bay window bathing the place in an array of beautiful colors that you stared at when you woke up still lounging on the couch enjoying the sounds of nature. 

pulling yourself off the couch you folded the quilt up putting it where you found it before shuffling into the kitchen to make breakfast quickly and enjoy the bowl of fruit out on the backdoor balcony watching the sun glitter off the water. 

you wondered if it was safe enough to swim in. 

with the bowl cleaned and put away, you stripped naked right in the kitchen and walked out to the balcony letting the sun warm your bare skin feeling the cool breeze harden your nipples, tightening them into hard pebbles. 

after a few moments, you headed back inside and got dressed before pulling a book off the bookshelf you brought from home and making something to drink before heading back outside on the balcony sitting down when you heard them. two male voices talking in hushed whispers not far away. 

your ears twitched as you stood up leaning against the railing watching them as they stayed at the mouth of the forest. they were both tall, one with black shaggy hair and broad shoulders, the other had dark short, and fluffy hair with the same stature as the other but he wasn’t as big as the other man. 

he was the same height although. you watched them with curiosity sniffing the air picking up their scent. werewolves. slowly you stepped back not wanting to catch their attention and retreated inside with a sigh. 

may wasn’t lying. 

you weren’t sure what they were doing until there was a knock several minutes later as you sat on the couch. putting your book down on the side table you headed over to the door looking out the small curtain and seeing the werewolves standing there, looking dead at you. 

“we know you’re in there.” one spoke, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. 

keeping the chain on you opened the door so they couldn’t step inside. toji’s eyes widened for a brief second seeing you standing there looking confused as your eyes shifted between them both, intrigued by their presence.  

he wasn’t expecting any omegas to come this far, especially one like you then his nose picked up your scent. shiu glanced at him and then at you. “we didn’t think may still rented the cabin, sorry for disturbing you,” shiu said. 

“do you need anything?” you asked curiously wondering why they would be here for may anyway, but it was no mistake what they were, the smell undeniable, potent and heavy and musky fur. 

they shared a glance then looked back at you. “no, thank you. have a good day.” shiu told you with a warm smile walking away first as toji lingered for a moment looking at you before following after his friend down the driveway. 

you shut the door and watched them from the window with the curtain lifted to see toji looking back at you with a smile that felt dangerous, his teeth sharp when he pulled his teeth back to show off, his scar splitting in half.

ignoring the interaction you looked at the clock, it was only late afternoon, and after making sure they weren’t in sight, you stepped out onto the balcony with a glass of wine and your book settling in the padded chaise lounge. 

everything felt almost like a dream as you read with one leg propped up letting the sun wash over like bath water when you jostled, rippling it. 

four chapters in and you could hear their voices again, murmuring back and forth about something catching your attention. after marking your page you set the book down and stood up to walk over to the railing looking down. 

“you’re ruining my reading time.” you called down resting your arms to lean over more meeting both their gazes, their lips tugged back in a smirk. 

toji chuckled and slid his hands into his pockets, his thumbs sticking out. “well, we wanted to come and ask if we could have dinner with you.” 

your jaw dropped looking at him with a stunned expression blinking fast as you shut your mouth so hard your teeth rattled. “uh, i don’t think so. i don’t even know you, also i’ve heard of the big bad wolf but just add another one.” 

“my name is toji,” he pressed his hand to his chest then jerked his thumb to his friend, “this is shiu.” you looked at him like that was supposed to magically make you all friends. 

they shared a glance and then turned their attention to you. “we could huff and puff and blow your house down or you could tell us your name.” toji teased with a chuckle that made your blood simmer, his gaze was predatory making you nervous. 

shiu shook his head. “we’re not going to do anything like that, don’t worry.” 

“i sure hope not, it’s not like you could anyway.” you murmured and gave them your name while thrumming your fingers against the railing debating on letting them inside, there was no telling what could happen if you got close. 

but it would be rude not to feed them. 

they watched you walk inside and then out the front door, around the corner to wave them in. “dinner then it’s my bedtime.” you called out and headed back inside heading to the kitchen to pull out a meal you brought from home. 

it was easy to heat up and you didn’t need to cook while here, you could focus on yourself when the time came. toji and shiu followed like it was the millionth time they’d been inside, immediately taking a seat at the table. 

“make yourself at home.” you murmured and put the food in the oven before joining them at the table sitting across from them. 

shiu was curious as to what brought you here and so was toji who asked first unable to help himself. “what’s a pretty little thing doing all the way out here?” he asked leaning back as he held your gaze with a waiting smile. 

you supposed that him calling you pretty would flatter you somehow. “i’m on vacation.” it was the truth, but they didn’t need to know the other reason. 

“or are you running away from something? someone?” shiu prompted. 

this time heat flooded your face as the timer dinged saving your ass. you got up to quickly dish out the plates before taking your seat again to eat. 

for a good while there was a silence that stretched between the three of you as the meal came to an end you collected the dishes and washed them. “thanks for the food,” shiu murmured as he attempted to help you. 

you let him help for a moment enjoying the quiet moment and charged air, something was lingering like a string daring you to play with it and see what happens when you tug on it, pulling open a whole new world for you three. 

once they were gone you finished cleaning up and opted for a warm bath before curling up in bed. the water felt good as you planned your day for tomorrow deciding to go down to the edge of the water with some wine. 

with your chair and a book you could easily spend all day down there, the thought of seeing toji and shiu again made your tummy prickle with heat and something else that ached between your legs like a soft pulse of want. 

shaking the thought from your head you washed up and got out to get dried off and dressed, sleep eluded you for the moment so you ended up on the couch again snuggled up under the quilt as you settled on a horror movie. 

it was nearing halloween and you always enjoyed the thrill of a good flick. 

you sunk into the couch as the movie played out putting you on edge which is what you wanted at first, regret trickled in knowing it was too late to turn it off now and go to bed, there was no way you could go to sleep now. 

changing the channel you settled on some reruns of a reality tv show until your eyes fluttered shut and you fell asleep on the couch again until the morning sun woke you up. 

sitting up you looked around and rubbed your eyes before getting up to get ready for the day, breakfast, shower, and a change of clothes later you ended up at the edge of the lake with your chair, blanket, book, and a glass of wine. 

it was a perfect way to relax which lasted for a few hours until shiu and toji emerged again from the mouth of the trees seeing you lounging there. 

you saw them and raised an eyebrow. “i’m not offering you dinner again.” 

toji chuckled and came closer, stopping a few feet away. “what if we offered you dinner?” he asked with a smile that made your blood thicken and bubble. 

going to their place when you didn’t know the woods wasn’t a good idea, you liked having the upper hand. “i appreciate the offer, but i don’t think i should go into your den.” you hummed and marked your spot with your bookmark. 

last night wasn’t too bad and they weren’t awful company you thought. 

“i did bring a lot of food so if you don’t mind helping me.” you murmured and stood up letting shiu grab your chair as they followed you back to the cabin. 

twenty minutes later the three of you were settled at the table again laughing about exchanged stories, weaving together past and present. toji was a heavy flirt while shiu was subtle about his, both of them making your head feel hazy and warm. 

their smells have been affecting you from your heightened sense of smell, your pulse was racing catching their attention. liquid desire started to simmer in your veins like honey, viscous and sweet producing a potent smell for them. 

the beginning of their rut kickstarted your heat. 

toji’s eyes darkened as he inhaled the scent, rich and heady. 

“you both need to leave right now.” you told them pointing to the door, the sudden change had you snippy. shiu had to push his friend out letting you slam the door behind them quickly in such a rush forgetting to lock it. 

your heat started sending a signal to your brain as slick pooled in your panties that felt drenched as you moved to the bedroom pulling open the box you stuffed with the sex toys feeling a soft throbbing in your womb. 

sleeping with two strangers isn’t what you had planned, especially werewolves when you haven’t mated before and you know what would happen if you let them stay even a second later you’d belong to them.

everything happened so fast as you grasped the first toy, a vibrator. ripping the package open you hurried to the bathroom and cleaned it quickly before crossing the hall into the bedroom to shuck your shorts and panties. 

sitting on the bed you leaned back and spread your legs feeling a deep ache as your pussy fluttered in response to the toy that rubbed against your clit, the ache grew like a vine, your body jolting when you turned it on, the feeling pulling a deep moan from you as you humped the vibrator with little care. 

every wave of pleasure brought erotic images of toji and shiu, taking them both at the same time and then letting one watch while the other jerked off before taking their turn. you wanted them to take turns with you like a toy. 

with a cry, you curled your toes feeling an intense heat bloom between your legs melting into your veins and pooling in your cheeks as you tilted your head back squeezing your eyes shut thinking of all the possibilities with them. 

the wet sound of you pleasuring yourself was loud and lewd as your slick pooled between your asscheeks no doubt dripping to the floor, every time you entered a heat especially one like this your arousal always left a huge mess, and oh how bad you wanted toji and shiu to clean you with their tongues. 

your brain was becoming mush rather quickly with each stroke of your wrist, the vibrator wasn’t doing its job which only frustrated you more than anything. 

with a soft growl, you pulled the toy out sighing, and let it drop to the floor before moving to grab the boyfriend replacer feeling your fingers slide against the material as you tossed it on the bed to straddle the fake thighs while you held the craved abs down flexing your fingers into the soft silicone. 

your head was hazy, filled with lust and the need to cum however you could. 

rubbing against the bulbous head you caught it on the soft opening of your wet cunt pushing it in easily with a soft mewl as you sat down on it with a wet squelch, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

for a moment you wondered if they had strayed far but little did you know that they were at your door, huffing and puffing smelling your slick and heat. shiu fought against everything inside him to kick the door down, but he knew that you hadn’t been claimed and that made his blood run hot with desire. 

toji decided to knock earning a look from shiu who raised his eyebrow. 

you stopped despite your brain telling you not to when you heard the interruption. it happened again and you knew who it was. “come in!” 

maybe that was a mistake but you had hoped that they could alleviate you of this, your brain could only come up with a weak whimper when you heard the door open followed by heavy footsteps and sniffing then they were in the room, the scent of testosterone wafted around them strongly. 

toji was the first one to touch you, his open palm felt hot as he caressed your back then your ass, gripping and groping the flesh. “what was that about us leaving?” he teased with a grin while shiu stepped next to you taking hold of your chin to turn your head to face toji who leaned in with a dark grin. 

you moaned as you ground against the toy staring at toji with a fucked out- look, your eyes glassy with bliss. leaning in you kissed him, your tongue parting the seam of his lips licking into his mouth tasting him whole. 

here you were making out with a stranger. well, the more you think about it you did know a little bit about them, but enough to fuck and take their knots? 

he growled into the kiss and kneeled on the bed to wrap his arm around your waist halting your movements so shiu could reach under you to remove the toy slowly hearing you gasp and cry out from the loss of it. “shh, we got you.” 

your head was hazy from their combined touches and kisses, all rational thought leaked from your ears as you allowed them to lay you on your back, shiu followed you down lying between your legs and inhaling your scent. 

“wait! i haven’t shaved!” you protested with a soft squeal and kept your thighs squeezed shut, albeit it’s been a long time since you’ve been with someone you always remembered them liking you being soft and shaved. 

shiu looked up at you from his spot cocking an eyebrow while sharing a glance with toji. “and do you think that’s going to bother us?” he husked drawing his thumb around your clit watching it throb and swell more in size. 

he leaned in pressing kisses against your hairy slick pussy, his thumbs glided against your lips as he spread you open to swirl his tongue around your swollen clit eliciting a moan from you while toji watched from the side. 

“toji..” you glanced at him reaching your hands up to grab him and pull him down, your fingers running through his hair tugging on it as you brought him closer, clinging to him for dear life as shiu slowly thrusted two fingers in you. 

you gasped into toji’s mouth rocking your hips against shiu’s mouth as you reached down to slide your hand into his pants, brushing your hand against his cock that was already lubed with a thick copious amount of pre-cum. 

toji was thick, the knot was huge even when it wasn’t inflated and you couldn’t wait to feel it. you glided your fingers up to the tapered end, rubbing your thumb over the slit before tugging his pants and boxers down revealing his throbbing cock, the girth was incredible and it was beautiful. 

a deep purple with a few veins on the sides and one prominent one that pulsed and led down to a heavy and tight sack that you cupped gently. 

the room was filled with pants and soft growls as you pulled away from toji to focus on shiu now, your hands buried in his hair as you rode his face letting toji suckle on your nipples only adding to the pleasure simmering in your veins. 

you felt warm and tingly all over as shiu stroked his tongue up and down between the lips of your cunt as his fingers brushed against your sensitive spot making you howl and arch your back off the bed while toji kept his mouth busy on your breasts bringing forth a wave of intense pleasure. 

your first orgasm was almost violent, stealing the air from your lungs. 

after denying yourself heat after heat it built up and you were soaking the bed and shiu’s face who lapped up the mess with a satisfied growl sliding his free hand under your ass to hold you close as he devoured you whole moaning. 

it was wet and so loud causing you to cover your face as you squealed and pushed him away. “give me a second!” you cried in between ragged pants. 

toji chuckled and palmed your tit as he jerked himself over your chest. “such a good girl for us. we want to make you our little omega.” he whispered darkly watching you come down from your high with a smug grin. 

agreeing to that idea wasn’t smart but you found yourself nodding anyway. 

“please!” you begged tilting your head back for them while gripping the bedsheets in excitement at the prospect of it all, you didn’t think about the future, just now and how good they were going to make you feel. 

so much was going on and you couldn’t keep it all together as you weathered the storm of bliss they put you in the middle of, thick fingers danced their way across your skin pulling and groping to bring forth more of your sweet sighs. 

shiu moved to kneel between your legs spreading them wider to reveal your glistening cunt causing his cock to twitch. he was the first one to get naked, revealing a hairy body with a full bush of soft pubic hair. “see?” he murmured and jerked himself off with no shame as you watched with a cute little pout. 

toji was next, both men were full of hair, curly and thick. instantly you sat up and buried your face in shiu’s chest then toji’s brushing your cheeks against them. “i don’t care who fucks me first just please do something before i die.” 

your voice was high-pitched and whiny but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care much when all you wanted was to feel their knots and cum a few more times. toji chuckled and slid his arm under your knees to push them back further. 

he pinned you down to let shiu rut his dick against the lips of your pussy, his tip gliding against your clit making you sigh and growl as you gripped toji’s hand feeling tears sting your eyes before coming down in fat salty drops. 

“oh, poor baby. she’s crying.” toji chuckled watching your eyes widen and jaw go slack when shiu pushed the tapered head inside the first ring of muscle as his hands moved to the back of your thighs gripping the flesh. 

you could see him gritting his teeth, grinding the pearly nubs together feeling the way your cunt swallowed him, wet and oh so fucking warm. the velveteen ridges of his cock felt incredible throbbing deep inside the drenched clutch of your pussy that looked so pretty wrapped around him. 

his head hung low to watch himself slide in and out slowly gathering your cream until it formed a ring that dripped down shiu’s knot that grew with each frantic thrust of his hips, he fucked you wildly as toji held you in place for him. 

the bed creaked as shiu dropped more of his weight down pressing into you more. “fuck!” you cried out when he slipped his knot inside, each pulse of your cunt sent him into a tizzy as he fucked you slow and with short and deep thrusts that left you gasping and clinging to him for dear life while sobbing. 

shiu knew how to have you gripping his bicep looking at him with wet eyes before his cock was spurting thick ropes of cum that matted between your pubic hair making a white mess in both of your hair. 

pulling back a little they helped you straighten your legs before wrapping them around shiu kissing him as you and he came down from your highs enjoying the afterglow of such an intimate moment before you looked at toji. 

“was wondering when it was going to be my turn sweetheart.” he murmured and twisted his body to grab your bullet vibrator with a wicked grin as he pet your hair kissing your forehead as shiu held you close to him, his knot now deflated enough to pull out making you whine with the loss of him. 

toji took his spot and turned the toy on. “sure you can even handle me?” he teased looking down at your gaping cunt that was covered in shiu’s essence. 

you narrowed your eyes at him and nodded pushing out another thick glob and sat up to grab his hips pulling him forward with a burst of strength before plopping on your back again. “stop teasing me…i need you so bad, toj!” 

that’s all it took for him to press the end of the vibrator against your clit making you gasp and jerk as he rubbed the tapered tip of his cock against the cum collection wanting to add his own. it was easy for him to glide in you. 

his hand found yours, linking your fingers with his as he leaned down to kiss you forgetting shiu who was kneeling next to you both, his eyes trained on you intently. it should be shameful to let this be happening but you didn’t care. 

not when it felt this good. 

you grasped his shoulders feeling hot white pleasure sizzle before blowing up like fireworks with each stroke, with the way he was filling you your head was so hazy, all you could do was babble about how good he felt inside you as you clawed at his shoulders desperately trying to stay tethered to the bed. 

there was now an even bigger and wetter mess between your legs, a thick frothy mixture of cum webbed between toji’s hairy thighs and the back of your legs that were warm and sticky from sweat as you rocked against him. 

his teeth nipped your bottom lip as he kissed you deeply, inhaling you like you were the air he needed to breathe, one big hand squished your cheeks together as he teased you with the vibrator making you cry out for him. 

toji wanted to feel you coming around him, he needed you again and again. 

before you could warm him your cunt spasmed around him drawing the tip of his cock deeper, nestling it right against your cervix. your eyes locked and you swore that your hearts beat in tandem as he thrust in and then came, filling you with a thick and hot load that seeped from the knot that plugged his cum. 

you clung to him panting and sobbing from the sheer ecstasy that washed over you as your vision cleared to see shiu smirking. “you two forgot about me, how are you feeling doll?” he asked bending down to pat your forehead with a cool rag making you sigh and moan from it as you kissed him gently. 

“hard to forget you.” you murmured against his mouth with a drunken giggle as you slid your hand up to the back of his neck to keep him there for a moment as you peppered his face in kisses and laughs as toji held you. 

the three of you stayed like that for a while until you were able to move on your own to get in the shower where they washed you in tandem. toji took to the top half as shiu took the bottom making sure to rinse the cum splatter off. 

they washed you with great care kissing you. “how does this work?” you asked squeezed in between their firm and hairy pecs grasping at the curly roots with a grin. 

toji held your hips as he kissed the top of your head while shiu brushed the sides of your breasts with his fingers. “hope your place is big enough for the three of us,” toji murmured with a chuckle making you warm at the thought. 

no way that would happen. you’d need a bigger place. 

“i live in a studio apartment, it’s just one room with a small restroom. we’d be cramped.” you murmured and turned around to face toji holding his arms. 

he moved his hands to your waist pulling you closer to him. “on top of each other all the time.” his voice dropped down to a husky whisper as the warm water cascaded over you, with with wet lashes you met his heated gaze. 

“something like that.” you murmured feeling shiu grope your ass now. their ruts were kicking in again and there was no denying the connection anymore. 

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three days in and you were sure there wasn’t a single inch inside and outside of the cabin you didn’t get fucked on. 

it was hard to pick your favorite. 

when you rode toji outside on the lounge late in the evening with the sounds of the waterfall in the background along with the wildlife and that night he was in his full werewolf form, his fur was soft and a good tether as you fucked him. 

you felt so full with him in this form and connected in a way you never felt with anyone else. in between all the fucking you three talked a lot and spent time together cooking and sleeping in the same bed. 

he nosed at your neck holding you close with thick arms, his claws close to digging in when you clenched your cunt tightly around him. “you feel so good, want you to cum in me please please toji i need it.” you begged softly crying. 

toji licked your tears as he pushed you all the way down on his knot that swelled once it was nestled deep inside, snug and tight keeping you plugged with his cum that he fucked deeper as he ground against you quickly. 

you clung to him and let him knot you again unable to count the many times he has claimed you, in his human form and this one. when he was like this, toji was hulking and beyond huge, able to bend you this way and that way. 

so was shiu. 

that’s how he had you the next morning with your face buried in the couch cushions as he mounted you in his werewolf form panting loud and wet in your ear fucking into you like a rabid animal chasing his high ramming into you with short choppy thrusts that took away your breath with each rut. 

he loved to hear you squeal so while he pulled out he enjoyed using the nipple clamps you brought. shiu tugged on the metal chain feeling your cunt squeeze as you squirmed and gasped pushing back against him with a grunt. 

they both had to have their noses buried between your legs, even at dinner one of them was under the table lapping at your pussy while the other attempted to hand-feed you, their fingers grazing your tongue making it hard to focus on anything else. “you’ve been so good for us, you’re ours now.” 

one time they were both able to slip inside your cunt stretching and filling you to the brim. “you’re taking us so well, and big stretch coming. you got this.” shiu murmured in your ear as kissed you shushing your cries and pants. 

it was an addicting feeling to have them both fucking you, and after training your ass with the toys you brought shiu fucked you from behind as toji thrust in and out of your cunt lazily feeling himself rub against shiu. 

by day six your cunt was sticky no matter how many showers you took, it was gaping with cum, dripping from the parted seam of your cunt. shiu and toji took turns cleaning you with their tongues until you nested against them. 

at the end of the trip, they had brought their belongings stuffing them into your car along with your bag, and went home with you unable to break the connection that they created in the matter of a single night that led to this. 

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing this thing is my baby! i took my time reading and rereading it to make it extra good jkfrt ♡

[anonymous-ivplay]

Hey so just to add context for the lice thing, bc the tl;dr is that there's more nuance and classism is also a factor

Schools were already doing this well before the pandemic. My younger sister got lice in the spring of 2017 and our local small town high school still had her attend every day while she was treating it, as according to my mom (who's the local teacher's union rep) the school district had recently changed their policy to the above. This was a bit surprising, especially since the district had also recently established a rule that anyone sent home sick couldn't come back to school until they'd had a full 24 hours with no more symptoms. So why would lice be an exception?

Because they found that of all the documented lice cases each year, the vast majority of them would come from the same kids and the same households each time. Which meant those same kids were missing a LOT of school.

I can confirm this from personal experience. Growing up there was a kid in all my elementary and middle school classes, let's call him Aaron. This kid would get lice CONSTANTLY. Like once a month the school nurse would find it, send him home, and then he wouldn't be allowed back until the lice was gone. So after a week he'd be back with a shaved head and all lice supposedly gone, only to have it show back up a few weeks later. Now we rode the same bus, so I saw Aaron's house and could tell that it was....really not in good condition. Point being, I wasn't surprised in the least that there was a recurrent lice infestation that his folks couldn't afford to completely exterminate—that, or they just didn't care. But because of this, Aaron probably missed a combined half-semester of every school year. And yet he still got pushed through to the next grade level year after year, because the school district didn't want to lose funding by holding him back, as alluded to above.

Aaron moved to a different town in middle school and I lost touch with him, so I don't know how he's doing now or how long the lice cycle continued. But I do know that he couldn't have been the only one in this situation, not when like a third of the town I grew up in is at or below the poverty line.

So is needing funding for the school district to blame? Partly, yes. But it's not about the short term of putting more bodies in seats from day to day. It's about how many low income kids they're failing to educate by punishing them for a living situation that the kids can't control. And while I don't necessarily like that lice has a chance to spread in schools more easily now, I can at least respect that it's better than the alternative of denying already disadvantaged kids the education they deserve.

CDC voice: "I know I said we'd do something about covid if it got very high again, but we have real tough jobs to do, like removing the recommendations that children with head lice or watery diarrhea be sent home to prevent further spread of their illness."

[imtherain]

Smeared Lipstick

Still on my Logan nonsense (thank god) and had a round of Patch!Logan feels. I know nothing about him other than what I saw in Deadpool and Wolverine, so sorry if I messed him up somehow.

This is for @likedovesinthewnd because she's the one who told me I should write it lol

Also shout out to @bpmiranda for posting the best/nastiest smut fics that inspired me to go ham and not hold back for once. If you need some more Logan, read mine first but she's got a lot more!

Warnings: Casino, basically pure smut with only a sprinkle of plot, oral (male receiving), some light conartistry, mutant reader, bathroom smut, fingering (both receiving because I'm a feminist lol), sugar daddy but only kinda, Patch!Logan, a touch of 'getting caught', and probably some other stuff. Let me know if I missed anything important.

Word Count: 3473 (don't look at me)

[More Logan]

[Main Master List]

“Hit me,” 

The dealer passed Logan another card and he concealed his joy easily. He’d hit 20 for the third time at this table. Lady Luck always on his side.

“You win again, sir,” The dealer said, pushing the new stack chips across the table to him.

“I’m afraid it’s time we close this table, sir,” Your voice always soothed something in him. You’d been working at this particular casino for a few months, and so, Logan always found himself at your tables. No one suspected the truth of why you both were there.

“Pity, I was doing so well,” Logan looked up at you with his one good eye, drinking in the way your glittery red dress hugged every single one of your edges just right. How your hair was done up with sparkly bits to match the shine on your dress. How your lipstick was the exact shade of red as your dress.

You looked good enough to eat, if he were being honest.

“I’m sure I can find you somewhere else to play,” You smile, half customer service, half something naughty.  Logan put the cigar he’d been chewing on away into his pocket. He had a feeling he’d find himself with something better to put in his mouth shortly.

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Logan stood, leaving his chips all on the table. “Cash those into my account,” This was directed at the dealer who was just cleaning up his station.

“Please, Mr. Locken,” You urged the dealer. He was a clever young man, one of your best dealers. He’d caught three different cheaters in his time at the casino, and you were impressed that he was so good at catching them. Even the team upstairs, who’s entire job it was to catch cheating, had missed one of the three Locken had spotted.

“Of course, Miss Y/N,” Locken replied, gathering Logan’s chips.

“Thank you,” You said, taking Logan’s arm and leading him away. 

Logan had been staring at the skin exposed that showed over the slinky material of your dress. You knew poor Locken likely knew exactly what you and Mr. Logan were about to get up to. Locken didn’t really want to know, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Mr. Logan, the high roller with an eye patch, were an item. Most of the staff knew, and the rest likely suspected.

But Mr. Logan, being a high roller, got away with all kinds of things. Fucking the floor manager was hardly a big deal or a surprise at that point.

“And where are you taking me, Miss Y/N,” Logan mocked Locken’s tone and you smacked his chest with one hand. “As I recall, there aren’t any tables this way, and the hotel is the other direction too,” 

“I was thinking you needed a little more luck,” You told him. “I heard that another big fish was headed in to drop some cash, and he’s luckier than most who walk through the door.” There was something about you that no one in the building, other than Logan, knew about you… and that was that you were a mutant who could control a person’s luck. You could also see how lucky someone was, just by touching them. It came in all kinds of handy working in a casino, and extra handy where Logan was involved. The two of you having a sort of arrangement in regards to luck.

“What did you have in mind for me?” Logan mused as you led him down another hallway and into a single stall bathroom. It was one of the large single stall bathrooms, where several people could use the two sinks and spacious counter during a wedding or other event, usually to get ready. This particular bathroom was out of the way of the main space though, less likely to get interrupted.

“Lock the door,” You told him with a saucy smirk. 

You and Logan had met originally in a different casino, and he’d figured out that his string of bad luck had been tied to you. He thought, originally, that it was because he’d gotten so distracted by you that he’d lost his edge. You knew it was because you’d turned all his luck to bad and all your own luck to good, hoping to clean house well enough to eat for the next month.

“Yes, ma’am,” Logan turned to lock the door and when he turned back, you were sitting on the counter, skirt hiked up to your knees. Logan took a deep breath through his nose that quickly dissolved into a growl of pleasure as he smelled your arousal. “Never will get over how good you smell, honey,” He stepped between your thighs and tipped your chin up so that you were looking at him.

“Only for you baby,” You purred back, leaning up so your breath brushed his lips sensually.

“No kissing,” Logan reminded you, and you pouted, but you knew the deal. After he’d found you out as a mutant, you’d both struck a deal. You would give him better luck, and he'd take good care of you, effectively becoming your sugar daddy. Only, if you called him ‘daddy’ he’d bend you over his knee, so you saved that for special occasions. 

“Please?” You begged, knowing that was the only line left in the sand between you. You’d done everything else, had sex in every direction you could think of. But no kissing. Never kissing.

You didn’t like it, but it was easy enough to complain around.

“You know the rules,” Logan growled softly. He ran his tongue along the exposed skin at your throat and you moaned. He chuckled, feeling your vibrations against his tongue.

“Rules are made to be broken, I thought?” You pressed as he stepped forward to bump the hardness in his pants against you. Your hips moved against him as if there was ever any question to what was going on between you.

“I can walk away,” Logan warned and you whined, but nodded to tell him you’d stop asking. “Good girl,” 

“Wait,” You said, suddenly having a sordid idea. Logan rocked backwards on his heel far enough to peer questioningly into your face. “Let me take care of you this time,” 

“You wanna take care of me?” Logan asked skeptically. You reached down to palm him through his slacks. His eye fluttered closed at the contact and he had to brace himself on the counter on either side of you.

“Please, baby? Since you won’t let me kiss you, at least let me taste you?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he knew he was a sucker for giving in to you anytime you did that. Hell, he’d kill a man no questions asked, if you batted your lashes at him.

“Get to it then,” He moved back only far enough to let you slide off the counter and to your knees. You made short work of undoing his belt and pants. You pulled his slacks and boxers down just far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He was already rock hard and leaking for you when you cooed happily and kitten licked the warm tip of him.

He had to grip the counter again to remain in control of himself. You smirked as you did it again, tasting the salty tang of his precum before you wrapped your lips around just the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” Logan grunted, trying his best not to slam his dick straight down your throat. He knew you could take it, but he wanted to let you get there on your own.

“Want me to stop?” You pause only long enough to ask before you licked a long stripe up the underside of him, tracing the thick vein there from balls to tip.

“Don’t you dare,” Logan pants, cursing again when you go back to the small licks along the very tip of his cock. You always seemed to know exactly how to drive him out of his mind. Maybe that was why he’d give you anything you wanted. Diamonds, jewelry, gold, silver, hotel rooms, a car if you asked for it… He’d give you anything his money could buy. 

Anything but the heart he was pretty sure you weren’t even aware you’d already stolen.

You pressed a small kiss to his angry red tip before sticking out your tongue and sliding him into the warmth of your mouth.

Logan cursed again, his hips bucking once before he could stop himself. You adjusted your knees on the hard tile floor, loosened your jaw, and slid your hands lovingly around his thighs.

With your eyes fluttering softly and the end of his dick in your mouth, Logan was surprised he didn’t cum right there on your tongue.

You looked up at him and gave a slight nod, telling him you were ready for him to take control if he wanted it. Logan felt his heart rate spike as the animal in him begged to claim you. If he wasn’t careful he’d bury his fist in your hair and throat fuck you until you couldn’t speak. But he’d promised to be careful when you were at work, because you needed to look nice for the casino.

When Logan didn’t immediately take over, you leaned forward, taking more and more of him into your mouth, slowly, until he just barely touched the back of your throat. Your throat constricted on a gag and the feeling of your throat closing was all it took for the animal inside him to break free.

Logan’s strong hand cradled the back of your head, trying to avoid pulling out the glittery baubles you’d put there this morning before he’d driven you to work. You leaned back into his palm, trying to ease the sensation in your throat, and you got relief for about two beats before that same careful hand pulled you back along him until your nose was pressed flush with the rough hair at his base.

You knew it was his turn to have his fun now, and you couldn’t help but grin for a moment before you remembered how hard it was to breathe around the girth of his cock.

Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs as you focused on breathing while he jerked his hips. The drag of his cock along your tongue made heat pool in your stomach as he abused your throat over and over again.

Meanwhile, Logan was making the most guttural noises while he used your throat. His grunting and groaning echoing in the empty bathroom, occasionally punctuated by a soft curse or two when your throat squeezed him just right. All paired with the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your throat.

But as much as you’d love to let him stay there in your mouth until he came, you needed a break. You reached up and tapped on his stomach, your agreed sign that you needed air. 

Instantly, Logan pulled back and caught your eyes with his one good one.

“You alright?” He asked and you nodded with a slight cough.

“Just needed to catch my breath,” You admitted. “I’m out of practice,” 

“I know one way to fix that,” Logan said with a cheeky grin.

“Give me five more seconds,” You said, adjusting on your knees again. You took a second to pull his slacks down to his knees. You lean in and give some attention to each of his beefy thighs, kissing the strong muscles and nibbling the soft flesh.

“Don’t tease me,” Logan grumbled, his hand coming back to your head. “Finish what you started,” 

“Yes, sir,” You batted your lashes up at him and his cock twitched next to your face. You took another moment to lick the side of him, rubbing his length against your face, showcasing just how long he was compared to your head. It was a wonder you could fit him all down your throat.

You kissed the side of his dick a few times, preparing you both for another round, and with one last kitten lick to his slit, his dick slid back into your throat.

The second time was always easier for you, and you’re always happy to help when it means he would let out those grunting noises you love so much.

And you knew exactly what would make him whine for you too.

You slid your hands up and around the back of his thighs until you could grip both of his taught buttcheeks in your hand. This distracted him enough from his movements that you were able to swallow around his tip and make him groan again. You bobbed your head as you kneaded his flesh and he got lost in the sensation the exact same way you did when he was face down between your legs. And just like he always did, you carefully slid a finger into his waiting hole.

The noise Logan makes is something you wished you could bottle up for a rainy day. It’s somewhere near a whine and too gravelly to be a whimper. You withdraw only long enough to add some moisture to your digits before working yourself back into him, stroking at that spot deep inside that makes his thighs tense and his knees shake.

Having discovered how stroking him like this made him feel, you understood why he liked to finger-fuck you so much. Making him experience such pleasure, pleasure that only you have brought him? Heaven. Heaven on earth, about to cum down your throat.

Logan never lasted long with your fingers in his ass.

You hold your breath while he comes undone in your mouth, bucking his hips against the swirling of your tongue. You try to swallow it all, but it’s difficult when he’s moving still, so you just hold on until he’s pumped every last drop into your mouth.

Before he can be overstimulated too much, he pulls your hand away from him and slides himself from your soft mouth.

“Fuck, baby, thought you were going to suck me dry for a second there,” 

“I would if you’d let me,” You smiled up at him. He reached down and gently rubbed his thumb under your bottom lip, catching a drip of his cum that you hadn’t managed to swallow. At first you thought he’d press it into your mouth, but instead he brought it to his own and you felt your face flame with unexpected heat.

“Maybe next time sweetheart,” Logan helped you to your feet before adjusting himself and pulling up his slacks.

“Wait, you’ve got lipstick all over,” You tried to stop him from tucking himself away hoping you could clean him up properly, but he just chuckled and did up his pants.

“Something to remember you by,” He teased and you rolled your eyes before turning to the mirror to see the state of your own face. It was about what you’d figured but also you didn’t mind in the slightest.

Your red lipstick was smeared all across your cheek, your eyes were wet so your eyeshadow had mostly rubbed off, but luckily your eyeliner had stayed put. You wore super waterproof eyeliner for that reason after all. There was still some of the sticky release of Logan’s painted on your lips and tongue from where you’d failed to swallow it all.

“Look at that,” You mused. “You smeared my lipstick,” Logan chuckled at that, turning you around so that he could see.

“Seems so,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He gently took your chin and held you steady while he soiled the white silk with your red lipstick and the remains of his cum. After fucking your throat like that, you almost forgot he could be gentle too.

You liked it when he was gentle.

When Logan was satisfied with his work, he put his handkerchief back in his pocket and leaned down to kiss your cheek, you froze when you felt his lips at the edge of yours. Almost a kiss. 

But he knew better than that. 

You both did.

You whined softly for him, wanting more, but you also needed to get back to work.

“Turn around for me,” Logan said. You raised an eyebrow at him but did as he asked, gasping when he pressed himself against your ass.

“Logan,” You chided. “I need to head back,” 

“Just give me a minute to return the favor,” Logan was smirking at you over your shoulder as you watched him in the mirror. “I promise I won’t smear your lipstick this time,” You bit your lip at the thought of him getting you off here too.

“I really should be getting back,” You tried to say, but it was half hearted at best. He smacked your ass and you whimpered at him, terribly needy and terribly turned on.

“Spread your legs for me and lift your skirt,” He commanded against the shell of your ear. “Now,” You jumped at the authority in his voice and moved to do as he asked. You hoisted your skirt up to your hips and let your legs shift apart so that he had room to slide his knee between your thighs.

You gasped as he bounced his leg into your sensitive folds.

“I’ll repay you properly when we get home tonight, but until then,” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “Let me make my baby feel good,” You could only nod as he reached down and slid his hand into your already soaked panties.

“Logan,” You moaned as his finger traced circles around your bud. “That feels so good,” 

“Good,” He nibbled on your earlobe. “Just relax,” 

You were about to give in entirely when the handle to the bathroom jiggled and it reminded you all at once that you were still at work.

“Fuck… Logan…” You tried to stop him, but he just dipped his fingers deeper and you mewled instead.

“Don’t worry about that, focus on me and what I’m doing,” Logan purred. The handle rattled again and this time you heard someone curse about the bathroom being occupied too long.

You jumped when the person outside banged on the door.

“Find another bathroom, bub!” Logan growled loudly as he kicked the door angrily in return. Another curse from outside the door and Logan slowed his movements until he couldn’t hear the person outside anymore. “Now where were we?”

You were gripping his arm, which was wrapped around your waist to keep you in place.

“I don’t even remember,” You admitted with a laugh, which shifted into a moan as he moved his fingers against you again and all at once you remembered. “Fuck,” You moaned.

“That’s it,” He sped up his fingers, watching your face in the mirror as your closed your eyes in pleasure. “Come on, baby, give it to me,” He grunted against your shoulder, his teeth teasing your skin.

It didn’t take much more for you to cum around his fingers, fluttering and shaking in his arms as he held you up.

“That’s it pretty girl, that’s it,” Logan purrs against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my pretty girl,” 

You turned, wanting to kiss him, to thank him for this, but you remembered his rule, so instead you pressed your forehead into his jaw and whined at him.

“I really do need to get back to work,” You whisper. “And you need to go make enough money for that trip we’ve been talking about,” 

“Yes ma’am,” Logan chuckled in your ear as he finally pulled his fingers out of the tight embrace of your cunt. You groaned at the loss of him, but hummed in pleasure when you watched him lick his fingers clean. “Need me to carry you to your desk?” He teased.

“Oh shush,” You stood and adjusted yourself. “I was just enjoying the moment for a little longer,” 

“Could always play hooky and use your key to get us into a room upstairs,” Logan said, like he was nothing but serious. You shove him playfully.

“Yeah, and then I’ll get fired again,” You chided. “We’re going to run out of good casinos if we keep doing that,” 

“So?” He pressed his lips to your temple. “Maybe when we run out of casinos, I’ll make an honest woman out of you,” This makes you pause. Could he be serious? 

“Only once we’ve run out?” You asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“And if we get married, I’ll have to kiss you, won’t I?” It sounded almost like a tease, but there was nothing but joy and mirth in his eye.

And maybe, just maybe, love was sparkling in there too.

[More Logan]

[Main Master List]

[kiwriteswords]

could you write a hotch x reader story where reader is literally a knockout bombshell and the team meets her for the first time and both are humbled and shocked tht Hotch could pull that. Also maybe she works in different department of the FBI, but not BAU and derek and others have always talked about how hot reader is but happy id they cnt have reaader that hotch can!

The Beauty and The Boss

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: Thanks so much for the request! Sorry, it took me so long to get it written :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Tags/Warnings: Mild language, fade-to-black smut scene, reader wears makeup, workplace flirting, commentary about reader's appearance by BAU, jealous!Hotch, mention of a Holiday party, mentions of a bar scene.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner’s professionalism hides a secret: he’s been in a relationship with you, the stunning agent who turns every head at Quantico. While his team spends months admiring and teasing about you—unaware of the truth—Hotch quietly enjoys keeping the relationship private. But when the BAU holiday party reveals the truth, the team is left shocked, realizing the woman they’ve been swooning over is already spoken for by the man they least expected.

The Quantico breakroom buzzed with life as Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, a grin stretching across his face. “I’m telling you, there’s not a person in this building who doesn’t turn their head when she walks by.”

Emily Prentiss smirked, crossing her arms as she perched on the edge of the counter. “Understatement of the year, Morgan. She’s practically stopped traffic in the hallways more than once.”

Penelope Garcia, seated with her tablet, chimed in. “More like a goddess descended from Mount Olympus, wielding a to-do list and a killer power suit. The woman is unreal.”

You had no idea you were the current topic of conversation as you breezed through Quantico’s corridors. Your heels clicked against the tiled floor with the kind of authority only a seasoned professional carried. Your fitted blazer hugged your form just right, the kind of attire that screamed competence but still left a trail of stunned admirers in your wake. You were a boss, and you knew it—not in an arrogant way, but in the way a woman who worked twice as hard to get half as far in a male-dominated field knew her worth.

Little did they know that, as much as they admired you from afar, you had a certain someone who saw all those layers they missed—someone who knew how you carried the weight of your team, your projects, and your life with equal parts grace and grit.

That someone was Aaron Hotchner.

Unbeknownst to the BAU, the stoic Unit Chief had been keeping a significant secret. You and Aaron had been together for over a year. Though you both worked under the same massive roof, your respective departments didn’t often overlap—an intentional boundary to keep things professional and out of sight from prying eyes.

Aaron entered the room just as Morgan’s laughter rang out. “No, but seriously, Hotch, you’ve seen her, right? You can’t tell me someone that fine doesn’t have half the men here wrapped around her finger.”

Aaron’s sharp gaze flicked to Morgan, his jaw tightening subtly. “Morgan, shouldn’t you be focusing on case files rather than office gossip?”

Morgan raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, man, beauty like that deserves to be appreciated.”

Emily grinned. “Don’t let Strauss hear you. She’d have you running sensitivity training for a month.”

Garcia waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe Hotch is just annoyed because she’s his type. Dark hair, smart, confident—maybe there’s some unspoken pining we don’t know about.”

Aaron’s lips pressed into a firm line as he reached for a file, “Let’s keep the speculation to yourselves. We have enough on our plates without playing matchmaker.” His tone was calm but carried enough weight to signal the end of the conversation.

He didn’t let his composure falter, but inwardly, he found himself caught in a tug-of-war between amusement and annoyance. You were undeniably stunning, and he couldn’t blame his team for noticing, but their casual banter skirted dangerously close to the truth.

Later that afternoon, the sun streamed through the tall windows of the BAU bullpen, casting golden streaks across the room as you entered. Your heels echoed confidently against the polished floor, their rhythmic click commanding attention as you moved with purpose. A fitted pencil skirt emphasized the natural sway of your hips, and your blazer was tailored perfectly, hinting at the strength and grace beneath. Loose curls framed your face, falling just so, and your makeup—subtle but flawless—added to the aura of a woman who meant business.

Conversations quieted as you passed by the desks. Agents glanced up from their work, some stealing longer looks than they should have, while others leaned toward their neighbors to murmur something under their breath. You didn’t acknowledge the attention. You were used to it. Your focus remained locked ahead as you carried the neatly bound folder in your hands, its weight a mere fraction of the responsibility you carried daily.

You reached the door to Aaron Hotchner’s office just as it opened. He stepped out, his posture as straight and commanding as ever, but his sharp eyes softened for the briefest moment when they landed on you. The shift was imperceptible to anyone else, but you caught it—it was the kind of look he reserved only for you.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he greeted evenly, his voice steady but low enough that it felt personal.

“Agent Hotchner,” you replied with a nod, the professionalism in your tone betrayed by the faint twitch of a smile at the corner of your lips.

Behind you, Morgan's voice rose in a stage whisper. “And there she is…”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, keeping your expression neutral as you extended the folder to Aaron. “I just need your signature on these budgetary adjustments. It’s time-sensitive.”

Aaron’s brow furrowed slightly as he accepted the folder, his long fingers brushing against yours briefly. “Of course,” he said, already flipping it open to skim through the pages. “Give me a moment.”

As he turned and walked back into his office, you followed without hesitation, pushing the door closed behind you. The muted sound of the latch clicking shut seemed to signal a shift in the atmosphere. The second the door was closed, your composed expression melted into something softer, teasing.

“I heard Morgan,” you said in a low voice, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes. You set a hand on your hip, leaning slightly as you watched him work.

Aaron’s lips curved into a subtle smirk as he scribbled his signature onto the documents. “They talk about you often,” he replied, not looking up right away. “Morgan more than most.”

You tilted your head, your brow arching playfully. “Jealous?”

Finally, he looked up, setting the pen down and stepping closer. “Observant,” he corrected, his tone dry but his gaze warm. He handed the folder back to you, and as his fingers brushed yours again, the slightest spark of electricity passed between you. “You look stunning today, by the way.”

“Today?” you teased, your voice dropping slightly as you tilted your chin. “What about yesterday?”

Aaron’s smirk deepened, the rare expression enough to make your stomach flip. “Every day,” he replied smoothly, his voice dipping into that low, velvety tone that sent a thrill through you. He stepped just close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne—subtle and clean, just like him.

For a moment, the space between you felt charged, but you straightened, breaking the tension with a soft laugh. “Careful, Agent Hotchner,” you said, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Someone might notice.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rare but rich. “Let them speculate.”

The corner of your mouth twitched in amusement, but you turned on your heel, your exit as purposeful as your arrival. Behind you, Aaron watched, his expression softening again as the door clicked shut. The office suddenly felt emptier without you in it, and the faintest hint of a smile lingered on his lips.

Moments after, when you stepped out of Aaron’s office, the door closing softly behind you, you nearly collided with David Rossi. The veteran profiler stepped back gracefully, offering you a warm smile as his eyes flicked to the folder in your hands.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he greeted smoothly, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “You’re lucky Hotch doesn’t have a ‘No Stunning Women’ policy in his office. Makes the rest of us forget what we’re working on.”

You gave a polite laugh, your smile measured but warm. “Always a pleasure, Agent Rossi. Don’t let me distract you too much.” With a nod, you stepped past him and continued down the hall, your heels clicking confidently on the polished floor.

Rossi watched you leave, shaking his head slightly before stepping into Hotch’s office, and shutting the door behind him. “You didn’t tell me your office doubled as a runway, Aaron,” Rossi quipped as he took a seat across from Hotch’s desk, still grinning.

Hotch didn’t look up from the report in front of him. “Rossi.”

“I’m just saying,” Rossi continued, leaning back in his chair. “Agent Y/L/N is quite the… presence. Can’t imagine you get much work done when she’s around.”

Hotch finally glanced up, his sharp eyes locking on Rossi with a calm but pointed look. “She’s one of the most competent agents in this building.”

Rossi raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin still on his face. “No offense, Aaron. I’m just appreciating fine talent when I see it. Professionally, of course.”

Hotch’s expression didn’t shift as he returned to his paperwork. “Make sure it stays professional, Dave.”

Rossi chuckled, standing up and adjusting his suit jacket. “Noted. I’ll leave you to your work, but for the record… you’ve got good taste.”

Hotch’s eyes flicked up for a brief moment, narrowing slightly as Rossi turned to leave. Once the door closed behind him, Aaron exhaled, his jaw relaxing as the corners of his mouth twitched faintly. You had that effect on people. Rossi wasn’t wrong about that, but Aaron wasn’t about to let anyone reduce you to just that. Not on his watch.

It wasn’t much later in the week when the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filled the dimly lit bar as the BAU team finally unwound after wrapping a grueling case. At their usual table near the back, JJ, Penelope, and Emily leaned close together, conspiring with mischievous smiles. Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, his beer in hand, as he glanced across the room toward you.

You were with your own team, sitting at the far end of the bar. The laughter coming from your group was infectious, and more than a few heads in the bar had turned to admire the sharp, confident woman at the center of it all. You were a vision, dressed in a fitted, dark emerald blouse that complemented your glowing skin, your hair falling perfectly into place despite the long week.

Emily nudged Derek, her grin widening. “Now’s your chance, Morgan. She’s right there, and she’s smiling. That’s basically an invitation.”

Penelope nodded eagerly, swirling her cocktail. “Seriously, Derek. You’re Mr. Smooth—to make one of your famous sweet moves. She’s gorgeous, brilliant, and, let’s face it, probably way out of your league, but you’ve got charm. Use it!”

JJ smirked, sipping her drink. “They’re not wrong. She’s definitely the type to keep you on your toes.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment. “You ladies make a good point. Pretty boy over here has been staring so hard, I think he forgot how to blink.”

Reid’s head snapped up, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I haven’t been staring—I was observing!”

Penelope laughed, reaching out to pat his arm. “Sure, sweetie. Keep telling yourself that.”

Meanwhile, Aaron Hotchner sat quietly at the edge of the table, nursing his drink and doing his best to keep his expression neutral. He caught Rossi’s amused glance and ignored it, his attention drifting toward you. Across the room, your eyes flicked to his, and in that instant, the noise of the bar seemed to fade. Your lips curved into a soft, knowing smile, and Hotch’s lips twitched in response, his gaze steady but warm.

“Alright,” Derek announced, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “Time to show you all how it’s done.”

As he sauntered toward you, the rest of the team watched with poorly concealed anticipation. Hotch leaned back slightly, a faint smirk playing at his lips as he took another sip of his drink, clearly amused.

At the bar, Derek slid into the seat beside you, his trademark charm on full display. “Well, well, Agent Y/L/N,” he began, flashing you a dazzling smile. “A woman like you at a place like this—it’s like a shooting star landing in a parking lot. Rare. Unexpected. Stunning.”

You turned toward him, your smile warm but professional. “Agent Morgan,” you greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I’m just wondering if I can buy you a drink. You look like someone who deserves only the finest.”

You chuckled softly, tilting your head. “That’s kind of you, but I’m good for now. Thank you, though.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “You sure? A woman like you turning down a Morgan Original? That doesn’t happen often.”

You smiled, leaning in slightly, your voice light but firm. “I’m flattered, Derek, really. But no, thank you.”

Derek blinked, clearly surprised but respectful, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Can’t blame a guy for trying. You have a good night, Agent Y/L/N.”

As he returned to the table, Rossi leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “I think I know why she turned you down.”

Derek arched a brow. “Oh, yeah? Enlighten us, wise old man.”

Rossi swirled his drink lazily. “She’s already seeing someone.”

That caught the team’s attention. JJ frowned thoughtfully. “She doesn’t wear a ring.”

Emily shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything. Rossi’s probably right—someone like her? Definitely taken.”

Penelope gasped. “She’s got to be dating some rich CEO type. Like a Christian Grey situation—minus the creepy stuff. You know, private jets, expensive suits, maybe even his own island.”

Reid tilted his head. “Statistically, high-powered women often prefer partners who are equally accomplished, so it’s not unreasonable to assume…”

Hotch, listening quietly, couldn’t help but chuckle softly under his breath. It was rare for him to indulge in such amusement, but their wild guesses about your personal life were too far from the truth to resist.

“Something funny, Hotch?” Derek asked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

Hotch met his gaze evenly, his lips twitching. “Just enjoying the show, Morgan.”

From across the room, you glanced at him again, your eyes meeting his with a spark of shared amusement. You knew, just as he did that the truth was far more satisfying than any of their guesses.

That night, the familiar warmth of your shared apartment enveloped you as you stepped out of the bathroom, your hair still damp from the shower. The soft glow of the bedside lamp lit the room in hues of gold, casting a gentle light over Aaron as he stood at the dresser, folding his tie with precision. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms, and his expression was calm, though you could tell from the faint tension in his jaw that something was on his mind.

There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved—calm, methodical, and yet there was an intimacy in the gesture that always left your heart fluttering.

You crossed the room, barefoot, wearing one of his old FBI academy T-shirts that hung just above your thighs. It was soft and familiar, smelling faintly of him, and you loved how it made you feel wrapped in his presence.

As you climbed into bed, you leaned back against the headboard, watching him with a small smile. “You’re quiet tonight,” you teased, running a hand through your damp hair. “That’s usually my thing.”

Aaron glanced at you, his lips quirking slightly before he shook his head and continued folding. “I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

He sighed, placing the tie in the drawer before turning to face you, his arms crossing over his chest. “My team.”

You raised a brow, leaning forward slightly. “Oh? What did the BAU do this time?”

Aaron smirked faintly, shaking his head as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his watch. “It’s not what they’ve done. It’s what they keep saying.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity piqued. “Do tell.”

He exhaled, his voice even but carrying a hint of frustration. “They don’t stop talking about you. Derek, Emily, Penelope… even Reid, apparently. It’s constant.” He turned to look at you, his dark eyes warm but serious. “I’ve been patient. I’ve let it slide because they don’t know. But I think I’ve hit my limit.”

A slow smile spread across your face as you scooted closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’re jealous,” you teased, your voice light and laced with amusement. “Aaron Hotchner, stoic leader of the BAU, is jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he replied firmly, though the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him. “I just don’t appreciate them… ogling you.”

You chuckled softly, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin against his shoulder. “You know I think it’s kind of hot when you’re jealous, right?”

He turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression softening. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you said with a grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “It’s sweet that you care so much. But you don’t have to worry, Aaron. I’m yours. Completely.”

He turned fully now, his hands coming up to rest on your knees as he looked at you with a rare softness in his eyes. “You have no idea how much I appreciate hearing that.”

You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Good. Because it’s true.”

He kissed you back gently, one hand sliding up to cradle your cheek. When you pulled away, you saw the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Aaron lingered close for a moment, his thumb brushing your cheek in a rare display of vulnerability before he exhaled softly and pulled back. Standing, he moved toward the dresser with the same calm, deliberate manner that always captivated you.

His hands went to the buttons of his shirt, working them loose one by one. The sound of each button sliding free seemed amplified in the quiet of your shared space. You couldn’t help but admire the way the soft light played over his features—his strong jaw, the tension in his shoulders, and the faint lines around his eyes that only made him more striking.

Aaron shrugged off his shirt, revealing the toned muscles of his chest and the scar along his side that you knew he sometimes still tried to hide. He folded the shirt with the same precision as his tie, setting it neatly aside before slipping out of his slacks and into the lounge pants he favored at night.

“Don’t stop on my account,” you teased, your voice warm and playful as your eyes lingered on him.

He glanced back at you with a small, knowing smile. “Enjoying the show?”

You grinned. “Always.”

Aaron shook his head slightly, his smirk growing as he crossed the room and slid into bed beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and the familiar warmth of his body radiated toward you as he leaned back against the pillows, one arm sliding around your waist to pull you close.

“You really don’t have to worry about what your team says,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest. “I only have eyes for you.”

His hand came up to cup your cheek, gently tilting your face toward his. “You’re sure about that?” he asked softly, though the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes betrayed the question’s seriousness.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one who gets this version of me. The rest of them don’t even come close.”

Aaron deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that still sent your heart racing. His hand slid down to your hip, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair, and for a moment, the world outside your shared room ceased to exist.

The soft rustle of sheets and the low hum of your shared laughter filled the space as your words became unspoken reassurances, translated into the way he touched you, the way he held you, the way he kissed you as though you were his lifeline.

In the darkness, as the lamp flicked off and the night stretched on, you made it perfectly clear—he was yours, and you were his, completely. Always.

The annual Bureau holiday party arrived soon after and was in full swing, the large event hall buzzing with laughter and conversation as agents and staff mingled under the soft glow of festive string lights. Tables lined with food and drinks flanked the room, and a DJ played a mix of holiday classics and upbeat pop songs. The BAU team had claimed a table near the center, already deep into their drinks and holiday banter.

Derek leaned back in his chair, scanning the room with an easy grin. “Alright, I’m calling it now. This year’s party MVP? Gotta be me. I’ve got the charm, the moves, and the mistletoe strategy ready to go.”

Emily rolled her eyes, sipping her drink. “Your confidence is astounding. Let’s see how it plays out when someone turns you down again.”

Penelope chuckled, adjusting the festive reindeer antlers perched on her head. “Maybe don’t aim for anyone who’s already out of your league, like a certain Agent Y/L/N.”

“They’re never letting that one down,” Reid laughed. 

Derek smirked. “She’s not here yet, but hey, holiday parties are all about surprises. Maybe she’ll get a look and change her mind?”

JJ raised a brow. “Speaking of surprises… does anyone else feel like Hotch is acting weird lately? He’s been way too quiet during our usual teasing.” Will was at her side, with an arm wrapped over her shoulders. 

Rossi, swirling his glass of whiskey, gave a knowing smirk but said nothing.

The conversation halted abruptly as the door to the hall opened, and heads turned to see Aaron Hotchner entering with you at his side.

The two of you stepped into the room, hand in hand, your fingers loosely intertwined as Aaron scanned the crowd with his usual composed demeanor. You looked radiant in a fitted emerald dress, its sleek design effortlessly elegant, while Aaron’s sharp black suit was understated yet commanding.

The BAU table fell silent, their jaws collectively dropping.

“Is that…?” Penelope started, blinking rapidly.

“Hotch,” JJ finished, her voice barely above a whisper. Will let out a breathy laugh. 

“And Agent Y/L/N,” Emily added, looking between the two of you as if she’d seen a ghost.

Morgan leaned forward, his grin faltering. “No way.”

Hotch’s lips twitched into the faintest smile as he caught their stunned expressions. He led you toward the table with a calm confidence, his hand still firmly in yours.

“Evening, everyone,” he greeted, his tone as steady as ever.

You smiled warmly, giving a little wave with your free hand. “Hi, guys. Hope we’re not late.”

The team exchanged glances, still struggling to process what they were seeing.

Derek was the first to recover, though his grin was more sheepish than his usual swagger. “Well, damn. Hotch, you really know how to keep a secret.”

Hotch arched a brow, his hand resting protectively on your back as he pulled out a chair for you. “It’s never been a secret. Some things are worth keeping private.”

Emily leaned closer to Penelope, muttering, “Okay, I officially feel bad for every single comment I’ve ever made about her in front of him.”

Penelope nodded vigorously. “Same. Oh my gosh, same.”

JJ shook her head, laughing softly. “And Derek, all the flirting?”

Morgan held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know! But I’ll admit when I’m beat. Respect, Hotch. You’re a lucky man.”

Hotch’s expression softened slightly as he glanced at you. “I know.”

Rossi, still sipping his drink, chuckled. “For the record, I knew when to quit. The first time I made a comment about her, the look Hotch gave me said everything I needed to know.”

You raised a brow, your lips curving into a playful smile. “Oh? And what look was that?”

Rossi smirked. “The one that says, ‘Say one more word, and you’re not making it to retirement.’”

“Back into retirement,” Hotch corrected with an amused look. The table erupted into laughter.

Emily leaned forward, her curiosity winning out. “Alright, spill. How long has this been going on?”

You exchanged a glance with Aaron, his hand still resting lightly on your back.

“A little over a year,” you admitted, and Hotch nodded. 

“A year?” Penelope gasped. “And you managed to keep it quiet this long? I’m impressed.”

Hotch’s gaze swept over his team, his voice calm but with a subtle warmth. “We wanted to keep things professional. But we both agreed it was time.” A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes as he added, “Especially before one of you asked her out on a date next.”

The team erupted into laughter, though Derek groaned, throwing his head back. “Aw, come on, Hotch! You’re never letting me live that down, are you?”

Emily smirked, leaning back in her chair. “You really did shoot your shot, Morgan. Respect for the boldness, but hindsight? Not your best moment.”

Penelope covered her mouth with her hand, barely containing her giggles. “I’m never going to stop picturing Hotch sitting back in his office, watching that go down and just... waiting.”

JJ joined in, shaking her head with a grin. “Honestly, Derek, if looks could kill…”

Derek held up his hands in surrender, chuckling despite himself. “Alright, alright! I didn’t know, okay? And for the record, I was nothing but a gentleman.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand as you smiled at him. “You were, Derek. I thought it was sweet.”

“Sweet?” Hotch interjected, his tone laced with playful sarcasm as he glanced at you. “I’d call it… bold.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow, your smile widening. “Aaron.”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk as he looked back at the table. “But in all seriousness, I can’t blame anyone for noticing how incredible she is. I just happen to be the lucky one.”

The table quieted for a moment, the sincerity in his tone catching everyone off guard. Emily was the first to break the silence, raising her glass with a grin. “Well, here’s to the two of you. A BAU power couple if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Cheers to that,” Penelope chimed in, her eyes sparkling.

As the team raised their glasses once more, you glanced at Aaron, your fingers brushing his under the table. His quiet smile and the gentle squeeze of your hand told you everything you needed to know. You were his, and he was yours, and no amount of teasing or surprise from his team could change that.

Tag List:

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@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

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@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[eggtargaryenii]

EAST OF THE SUN | PART IV

 “Aemond has always been very jealous over you," Jace said doubtfully. "And protective.” “Not because he wants to bed me,” you dismissed, sipping on your wine. “I was his only friend for a long time, so naturally he likes to hoard my company. And he likely is only so protective of me because he thinks of me as a kind of elder sister to him.” “Ah—so you mean he wants to bed you and wed you.” You choked on your drink, giving Jacaerys a scandalised look.

7k words, aemond x fem!reader x jacaerys. childhood friends to lovers (except it's cousins), political drama. chapter warnings for targaryen incest and themes of xenophobia/racism and misogyny. dividers from @/cafekitsune.

SERIES SUMMARY & MASTERLIST.

XII. FIVE OF SWORDS

You did not really know what to think of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

On a political level, you did not think highly of her. Once you were old enough to understand your role in court—that is, a womb to be eventually traded in return for gold or swords or support—you became confused with Rhaenyra’s behaviour. She married Ser Laenor Velaryon and then immediately began to fornicate with another man, which was fine. But it was strange that she chose a man with fair skin and dark hair for her paramour, rather than someone who looked more like Ser Laenor, and it jeopardised her standing in court. It felt silly to you, and was one of the reasons why, at the tender age of ten, you vowed to marry a handsome lord who was inclined to desire women: if you were too busy being happily bedded by your husband, then you would not have the time or wherewithal to lay with another man and give birth to any bastards. (Certainly, you would not be interested in having any affairs if Cregan Stark was your lawful husband.)

On a personal level, you misliked Rhaenyra. You had never forgiven her for Aemond’s eye. As a child you had been furious at turns with Jace, Luke, and Aemond for the debacle, but as an adult you could not fault three children for an accident. What you did fault was Rhaenyra’s actions following it: treating Aemond’s eye like it was an afterthought to the bastardy talk, as if her son had not just irreversibly rendered him half-blind. As if Aemond did not lay feverish in bed for weeks after, as if he did not need to spend months retraining his body to his altered vision, as if he were not twice as vulnerable to attacks from bullies and swords and morningstars. As if he did not need to live with the knowledge that his very body was a disposable thing to his father, something that could be overlooked so long as Rhaenyra’s claim could be protected.

No—you did not like Rhaenyra.

You were certain that Rhaenyra did not feel so poorly about you, however. She never concerned herself with you when you were a child, and you did not fault her for it: you were not close in age, and she was heir apparent to the throne. She mostly knew you as someone whom Jace had befriended, and she liked you for it. Occasionally she would invite you to dinner with them in the Small Hall, or let you break your fast with her family. Sometimes she would talk with you then, and humour your questions about the Small Council (Do they know where my father is? Will they banish me from the Red Keep? Is the Hand really going to betrothe me to an old man?), and sometimes she would look at you with something close to pity.

Rhaenyra probably did think well of you. Still, it felt like an obvious lie when she called you into her chambers the day after your father’s funeral and said, “You know I have always been very fond of you.”

“Thank you, Princess,” you said graciously, immediately. “I have always been so grateful for your kindness, and especially for allowing me to spend time with Jacaerys.”

She smiled at you. You returned it, careful not to let the wariness show in your eyes.

“It was the least I could do. I owed it to your father—he was very kind to me. He would sail back from Lys and bring me trinkets, and I loved them so. I do not think Prince Daemon liked the attention he gave me, however.”

You shuddered to think of the suggestion of romantic jealousy between Daemon, your father, and Rhaenyra. You truly would walk into the sea if she disclosed a sordid relationship between herself and your father right now.

Outwardly, however, you only gave her a sentimental look. “I had never known that. Were the two of you close?”

“He was often away from King’s Landing, so I knew him not well—but I knew him well enough. And my husband, of course, was fond of him.” She smiled. “Now that your father is gone, Daemon and I feel that it is only right that we care for you.”

You did not comment on the fact that your father had been gone for nearly ten years already. “Oh,” you said, your eyes growing hot as you remembered to cry. The tears were easy to summon and mostly from frustration at knowing that your father’s death was being used in these petty games of court, but Rhaenyra need not know that. “That's—that’s very kind of you.”

“I know Jacaerys is very fond of you too,” she continued. “If you need to continue leaning on him, know that I will be happy to see it.”

“Of course.” You wiped your eyes. “I am ever so thankful for his help during my petition. And your husband’s too. It is a kindness I cannot repay.”

“As I said, it is only right.” Rhaenyra gave you a long look, then seemed to make a decision. She reached for something on the table beside her, then placed a velvet box in front of you. “Please—take this.”

Your look of surprise was genuine when you opened it. Inside was a pair of earrings—from the rippling sheen of the reflected light, Valyrian steel, so dark that it was nearly black. Rubies glimmered among the delicate metalwork, a bold red. You knew only of one person who had ever worn jewellery like this: “My mother’s?”

“Not quite, but close. Your father brought it back from one of his trips to Lys and gifted these to me, but I have not had much chance to wear them as of late—they are a young person’s jewels.” She gave you a look that was distinctly motherly, which made you feel distinctly uncomfortable. “I feel that it is only right that these go to you, rather than being wasted on my vanity.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “Thank you, Princess.”

You had a feeling where she would be going with this.

“It would be a great honour to me,” she said, “if you were to wear these at the upcoming feast.”

It was with great effort that you did not sigh.

“Of course, Princess.”

XIII. TWO OF SWORDS

There was nothing less you wanted to do than to attend the banquet meant to precede the next day’s tourney. This reluctance had less to do with the loss of your parents (though that was undeniably a factor; you were still looking forward to the day you could crawl into the dragon pit and wail in solitude) and more to do with the dread of navigating the court. Within the Red Keep, wearing the wrong colour dress to sup alone could earn you the ire of half the castle; choosing the wrong one for this banquet could quite literally kill you.

Alicent expected you to wear green, as would the Tyrells. Rhaenyra expected you to wear her earrings, which were obviously meant to be paired with black and red. It would insult one faction or the other if you did not respect their wishes, but at this point, you also had no desire to align yourself with either. Rhaenyra had not convinced you of her cause, and if you played too nicely with the Hightowers now then they would take that as a sign that they could further abuse you as they pleased in the future.

On the other hand, you did not want to offend anyone too much. Cultivating a relationship with the blacks might be useful in the future, though your greatest concern was the Hightowers—neither your coin in Braavos nor the power of your dragon could save you if the Hand decided to poison you. That could be a very real risk as you currently had no heir. Should you be killed, the money in the Iron Bank would fall to your next of kin: King Viserys on paper; Alicent Hightower in practice.

No, you could not openly antagonise the Hightowers. However, appalling them? Probably fine. Alicent already found you appalling on a daily basis, and the Hand made it no secret that he was happy to write you off as the daughter of a foreign bed slave whenever it was convenient. You were sick of it. If they were going to accuse you of being a whore, then let them suffer the shame of having raised one.

When you walked through the heavy oak doors into the Great Hall, a hush fell over all the lords and ladies present. A few noblewomen covered their open mouths with their hands, emphasising their shock and disapproval. It was already difficult not to laugh at them, but you almost barked when you saw Jace’s reaction to what you were wearing: he very clearly choked on his wine and nearly spat it out. The sudden flush on cheeks probably was not from the Arbor gold, either. You winked at him, hoping Alicent would notice.

Rhaenyra, sitting next to him, seemed amused at the Queen’s own scandalised expression. Of all the King’s party present, you greeted her first, curtsying as best as you could in your delicate, green silks. Lysene clothing was really not made for Westerosi customs, you thought; there was not a lot of material around your waist to lift, as most of it was cut to reveal your thighs, and the view it gave of your décolletage as you bowed the was… well, it did not leave much to the imagination. Nor did any other part of the dress. The silk was so sheer that it revealed far too much when the light struck it a certain way.

“What an interesting choice of dress,” Rhaenyra remarked, the corner of her mouth lifting. Her gaze caught on the rubies dangling from your ears; you smiled.

“I chose to wear Lysene silks today to match the earrings you gifted me, Princess,” you said. “The dress was from my mother’s old wardrobe. The colour clashes a bit with the red, but it was all I had on hand, I'm afraid.”

“I’m sure.” She seemed neither convinced or upset. “Well, both the earrings and the dress look beautiful on you, my dear. Wouldn't you say so, Jacaerys?”

Jacaerys composed himself quickly enough, but you noticed that he was careful to look only at your face as he spoke. Still, he composure had returned when he replied, “You look very lovely tonight, my lady. I shall need to ask you for a dance later.”

“I look forward to it. Come find me when it pleases you, my prince.” You curtsied again, turned away, and tried not to cackle at the expression that Jace made when he realised just how much leg your dress showed. You were fairly certain that Rhaenyra was herself trying not to laugh at her son's expense, smiling into her goblet as she watched his reaction.

Alicent, on the other hand, did not seem nearly so amused.

“You… Lyseni,” she said, managing to make a very neutral word sound incredibly pejorative, “have very unusual styles of dress.”

“I would not know. Having been born in King’s Landing, I am unfamiliar with Lysene styles as a whole, my Queen,” you replied calmly. “This dress is from my mother’s old wardrobe. It was the only green dress I owned—you know I do not wear the colour much.”

“I would have been happy to have had a dress made for you,” she said, voice tight. “You are our kin, after all. We are happy to ensure that members of the royal family dress as royals should.”

“I did not want to burden the Crown’s coffers, as I know they are limited,” you parried, and Alicent’s expression nearly put you in stitches. “Is my betrothed here tonight, my Queen? I should like to finally meet him, if he is.”

Part of you had hoped that this outfit would disgrace you too much for an introduction to the great house of the Reach. You were even hopeful for it when Alicent advised her father that you were not dressed suitably for a formal introduction, but the Hand insisted on it. In the end, Alicent had you meet Lady Tyrell at the behest of her father.

Lady Tyrell seemed an interesting woman. She served as the regent of Hightower given her son Lord Lyonel’s young age. Apparently significantly less pious than the Queen, Lady Tyrell took your appearance in stride.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” she said after a curtsy. “I saw your petition in the throne room a sennight ago, and I could not help but ask for an introduction after that… you are a very eloquent speaker. I am sorry to hear about your father, by the way. I recall it was said he was a diplomat in Lys and that your mother was a woman of the Lysene court—is this dress something of hers?”

Woman of the Lysene court. You liked the way Lady Tyrell talked, as well as her values: apparently irreligious. You wondered what she and her house wanted from you. If she saw you during the petition, it was most likely all the gold you were arguing over. Highgarden was not short of wealth, but they always wanted more for it.

“It was indeed left behind by my mother before she returned to Lys,” you replied. “And I thank you for your kind words. Everything I know, I have learned from the Queen—she took my education into her own hands after my father passed, you see…”

The two of you exchanged pleasantries with one another. You painted an image of Alicent that had her in the golden light of the Seven and wearing a halo; the Queen’s posture relaxed visibly as she listened from nearby. When it came time for you to meet Arthur Tyrell, though, you noticed her stiffen again.

Ser Criston next to her also bristled. His eyes were heavy on Ser Arthur. He was startlingly handsome with his Tyrell features (though not as handsome as any Stark men, you noted), with a full head of mahogany curls and honey brown eyes that nearly shone gold at times in the chandelier light. He had a charming, playful smile that you did not see very much in your circles. Jace was too serious to make that sort of expression, Aemond too frightening, and Aegon too slovenly.

Most importantly, though, Arthur seemed not to mind your dress, taking you without hesitation to the dance floor.

“I was not told my betrothed would be so beautiful,” he said.

“And I was not told mine would be so handsome,” you replied swiftly, deciding to humour him. Then you added, wanting to know why Ser Criston seemed so disdainful of him, “Though I have heard tales of his bravery in the Marches.”

“Exaggerations, I'm sure,” he replied.

“Then I would like to hear the truth of it from the man himself.”

Arthur was humble, yet glib of tongue. He replied to all your questions respectfully, but not without a little flirtation or humour, and always with charisma. You found yourself frustrated: you could not tell how such a charming and well-accomplished man had earned the ire of Ser Criston. His only damning trait seemed to be that he was a bastard, which you could not care less about.

It seemed that you could only get the truth from the white cloak himself. When you were nearly about to signal for Ser Criston to ask you for a dance—the two of you had such a protocol, for times when you were made to dance with some lecher and Aemond was not around to extract you—when the one-eyed prince himself instead came to your aid.

“Pardon the interruption, Ser Arthur,” a familiar voice said behind you, “but I would like to trouble my cousin for a dance.”

“Of course, my Prince,” the knight replied, and he handed you off to Aemond gracefully. Once you were in Aemond’s arms, he nodded at Ser Arthur, his mouth curling into a kind of smile. You could not decide if his expression was handsome or unsettling. Certainly, it was not friendly.

“You do not like him,” you said in Valyrian, as Aemond led your feet across the marble floor.

He brought you close to him before he replied, in the same language, “I do not like him being around you. I spoke with Ser Criston and found his background… troubling.” Aemond had you twirling, the sheer silks around your waist swaying with your movements. “The knowledge makes me worry about the way he was looking at you.”

Your brow arched. “He looks at me the way that most men have looked at me my entire life.”

“I do not like it when most men look at you.”

A laugh. “So many japes from you lately!” The two of you circled one another as a lute sung delicately. “Well, why do you dislike the gaze of this man? Tell me about the crimes of my betrothed—I shall soon die from suspense if you do not.”

Aemond brought you close. Your hand on his chest, his lips against your ear, he said, “The man raped and pillaged towns in the Dornish Marches. Some of the worst crimes Ser Criston has ever seen in battle—an offence to the Seven, he said.”

Your expression fell. Aemond led you along in the dance, not allowing you to stop—likely remembering the watching crowd. He kept his face so near to yours; it took a moment to realise he was hiding the shock in your eyes from the gazes of others.

After a long moment, you remembered yourself, and you began to think of all the implications. It now made sense that Lady Tyrell did not care about your choice of dress: it was fine that you were a harlot, as she meant to marry you to a raper. What confused you, though, was that Queen Alicent had so readily agreed to the match as well: she may have disapproved of whores, but she openly despised rapers and felt they should all be gelded, just as the Seven-Pointed Star commanded.

“Does your grandsire know?” you asked, moving deftly around your partner. “Your mother?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Aemond said, “but I suspect they do.”

You nodded, tried not to look too grave as you said, “I will find a way out of this marriage.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Tyrells watching the two of you. You pressed yourself against Aemond, likely more intimately than any dance would warrant, so that you could whisper into his ear. “Were you serious about finding a means to avoid my betrothal?”

“Not only serious—I have already planned it.” Aemond smiled in his unsettling, handsome way once more. “Play along in the morrow. Remember: Any consequences will not befall you.”

What consequences? you meant to ask—but then you were interrupted.

“Pardon me,” a new voice said in the Common Tongue, and the both of you broke apart to see Jacaerys. “I wanted to make good on my promise to dance with my cousin.”

It was a command, not a request. Aemond studied him for a moment, and you wondered for a moment if they would begin to posture with each other, but he then acquiesced.

“Of course, nephew,” Aemond replied. He then switched to Valyrian: “Take care not to pass her off to any untoward characters. I'd rather her stay even in your hands than certain others. Bring her to me once you are done.”

Your cousin gave you a long look, his single eye glinting strangely. He brought your fingers up, and you did not realise what he was doing until his lips were pressed chastely against your knuckle. You stared blankly at the foreign sensation, at the soft touch of his mouth against your skin, unable to comprehend what was happening. But the realisation came only a moment later, suddenly and violently:

Aemond Targaryen was kissing your hand.

You nearly jerked back. What are you doing? you wanted to ask, but Aemond did not give you much time before turning to leave, smiling as he retreated to the high table.

You gave him a bewildered look as he disappeared into the crowd. Jacaerys, himself, seemed equally surprised. As he took your hand into his, he began questioning you: “Did I misunderstand,” he asked quietly in the Common Tongue, “or did my uncle just entrust you to me?”

Your speech remained in Valyrian: “You understood correctly, though you may have missed the backhanded insult. I believe he doesn't want me back in the arms of my betrothed. Aemond and Ser Criston mislike the man.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. Or, well—it is more like they abhor him.” You were uncertain if Jace knew the words for ‘rape’ or ‘pillage’ in Valyrian, so you adopted the Common Tongue once more, smiling brightly: “Nevermind all of that. We can talk later, when we are somewhere more… private.”

Multiple eyes glanced away, eavesdroppers averting you now that they'd been caught. You figured that those around you thought you were speaking of the kiss, and not of the reputation of Ser Arthur. Certainly, Queen Alicent must have, for her jaw was so tight and angry that she could have only been thinking of her son’s open favour toward you, or perhaps the betrothal that he just put into jeopardy. You supposed it was also a particularly sordid sight for her given the new whispers surrounding you: Jacaerys was said to have carried you back to your room in the early hours of the morning a few days ago. To anyone who believed the rumour, it must have looked to some like you were seducing both princes, their hearts in your cruel thrall even though you were now betrothed to a Tyrell. Luckily for you, however, the whisper had come from a kitchen maid who was a reputed liar: even though it was true, most were sceptical of the tale.

Alicent likely believed them, though, for she had given you a long lecture about preserving your innocence for your betrothed during your last meeting, followed up by an implication that there were ways in which one could feign virginity on a marriage bed should they have fallen into sin before their wedding night. She alluded to the old trick of staining one’s sheets with chicken’s blood while their groom was distracted. Though you were not offended at her belief that you had ruined yourself, you were offended at her belief that you would be stupid enough to jeopardise a marriage in this way. Using chicken’s blood was good enough for commoners, but it hardly worked for noblewomen. Septas and maesters would not be fooled by such a lazy deception, and you were both well-aware of it.

Thinking of the conversation made your head pound, so you turned to your only solace at a time like this: “Would you like to sit and have some wine, Jace? I have not yet tried the Arbor gold.”

“Of course.” Jace took your hand in his, led you to the high table at the front of the hall. A maid promptly approached with goblets and wine, which you were glad to drink, hoping for the sweet oblivion of complete inebriation. Jace’s brow lifted as he watched you.

“I did not know that you had grown into such a drinker.”

“Only during banquets,” you said dryly. “I find that I cannot otherwise endure them.”

“How ironic,” Jace remarked. “This is my first in the Red Keep, and I find myself envying you for having attended so many.”

You were startled as you realised that the Crown Prince, of all people, had neither attended a tourney nor a banquet in King’s Landing solely because of the petty infighting in his family. “Sorry,” you said immediately. “I’d forgotten this was your first feast here. I’ll try to be better company.”

“You are always good company,” Jace reassured you, “though I would enjoy a proper dance with you later. We’ve never danced together before, you know—I meant it when I said I would want one.” He smiled, and you felt your stomach flutter in a dangerous way.

Crown prince, crown prince, crown prince, you repeated silently, trying to remind yourself that you could absolutely not become besotted with the heir to the throne. If Jacaerys were to be the object of your longing (a futile one, for it was an impossibility that you could ever marry him), then you would never find a lord for yourself whom you could be happily bedded by. There was not a single noble man in the Realm who had a face that could compete with his—not even Cregan Stark!

“I'm not a very good dancer,” you remembered to reply. “I may step on your feet.”

“You seemed fine with my uncle.”

“Only because he's strong at leading. It isn’t unlike swordplay, which he excels at.” You sighed. “It is a wonder that I did not embarrass myself in front of Ser Arthur.”

Jace gave the Tyrell a sidelong glance, contemplative. “I have heard from the Queen that he is now your betrothed,” your cousin said, “which I imagine must make my uncle unhappy, as he clearly wants to bed you.”

You gave Jace a tired look. “Many people believe that I am Aemond’s lover, but I can assure you that the assertion is false.”

“That kiss did lead me to believe that he would prefer it to be true.”

“I would not pay it any mind. A kiss on the hand is a simple enough courtesy, not necessarily a sign of courtship. And even if it was unusual for him, he is likely only plotting something.” Something that the Queen will hate as much as the Tyrells, you supposed.

“Plotting something, or acting on a lifelong desire?” He studied you carefully. “Aemond has always been very jealous over you. And protective.”

“Not because he wants to bed me,” you dismissed, sipping on your wine. “I was his only friend for a long time, so naturally he likes to hoard my company. And he likely is only so protective of me because he thinks of me as a kind of elder sister to him; it was the role I played to him when we were children.”

“Ah—so you mean he wants to bed you and wed you.” You choked on your drink, giving Jacaerys a scandalised look. “What? Sibling marriage is the custom of our family.”

“I meant that he thinks of me as a sister in the Andal way.”

“Yet none of us are Andals—including yourself, dear cousin. You are a Targaryen.”

Your mood soured as he reminded you of the fact. You could not help but think of how eager you were to run away from that Small Council room a fortnight ago, so aggrieved were you by your kin.

“Can you ask your lady mother to disown me from the family?” you begged, and Jace snorted.

“Only you would reject the life of a trueborn Targaryen,” he said, shaking his head. He likely meant it as a jape, but the words had a bitter timbre to them, and you felt torn between guilt and resentment. Trueborn or not, Jacaerys had a number of people protecting his place in this family—yourself included. The same could not be said of you.

“My trueborn family rejected my mother. I may as well be a bastard.”

“Every bastard still wants for a family.”

“A family, sure, but I imagine not always their family by blood. Most of them do well enough. I feel I would.”

“You wouldn't really want to leave it all behind,” he accused.

“No,” you admitted. “I thought briefly of running away, after I was told of my father's death. But now there are people here I care for too much. Like Aemond, or Wildfyre.”

“And?” Jace prompted.

“I suppose I like Luke well enough.”

“How cold.”

You smiled at the prickly look he feigned. “I would miss you terribly, Jace. But I tire easily of all the politicking in these walls.” You sighed heavily. “If she cannot disown me, could you ask Princess Rhaenyra to marry me off to someplace far from King’s Landing? And not to any Targaryen men, please.”

“I have little say in such matters, but if you'll take a Velaryon, I could get you as far as Dragonstone.”

Aemond was nearby, clearly listening, and you realised now that Jace must have noticed. You smiled at your dark-haired cousin, amused.

“A tempting offer,” you replied playfully, “but you’d become a Targaryen once you ascend the throne, and I'd also be back here once more when that happens. I'm afraid I'll need to decline.”

Jacaerys played at disappointment, clicking his tongue. “Ah, well, it was worth a try.” He picked up his own goblet from the table, took a draught. “There’s always the King Beyond the Wall. Is that far enough for you?”

“I would rather face the Others than Otto Hightower,” you said dryly. “Certainly, I would fear them less.”

You expected Jace to laugh, but he only studied you, as if curious. After a moment of consideration, he leaned in and asked, “Would you care to step outside with me, my lady? For some fresh air.”

Fresh air was clearly not what he wanted. Nevertheless, you agreed and allowed Jace to help you out of your seat. As you rose, you glanced at Aemond, worried for his reaction, but his attention was not on you. He was speaking with Ser Arthur, you realised, who did not seem pleased by whatever Aemond was saying. Your brow furrowed, and you wondered if you should intervene, but Aemond glanced at you then, the corner of his mouth hooked slyly, his gaze as unsettling as it was reassuring.

Play along in the morrow, Aemond had told you, so you decided whatever he was planning was not your business tonight. You turned on your heel and took Jace by the arm, hurrying away.

IX. SEVEN OF CUPS

The night was cool and quiet, but you knew that it was not empty. You were certain that there would be many curious about why the Crown Prince would want to step outside and close the doors to the Great Hall behind him, obviously seeking privacy. Guards were posted in the courtyard below despite being within the inner castle walls; the balcony above you was silent when there should have been chatter and music from the banquet drifting from its threshold. Someone had stepped outside and closed the doors to escape the noise—meaning they could now listen to you rather than the noise of the feast.

You had long ago noticed that some of the sordid rumours about you involved your moments when you believed you were utterly alone with another person, or when you moved through supposedly empty halls and corners of the castle. From this, you suspected that there were eyes and ears placed all throughout the Red Keep. When you brought this up to Aemond (talking quietly in the dragon pit, where Wildfyre and the many other dragons ensured that you were both alone), he outright confirmed it. Larys Strong is quite adept at collecting whispers, he had commented. The Queen often consults him on them. King Viserys, though, has never paid him any mind—he does not see the value in knowing the whispers of King’s Landing.

When you asked Aemond how he had collected such whispers, he merely smiled.

After this conversation, you quickly surmised that all adept players at court had eyes and ears to aid them. You had not realised how much you had taken this knowledge for granted until Jacaerys disclosed that he had wanted to step onto the balcony to get some privacy.

“Privacy?” You made a face. Dragonstone had evidently spoiled the man. “This is not a private place. I do hope you aren't planning on saying or doing anything that may be seen as untoward. The Queen already believes that you have taken me abed and thoroughly ruined my innocence.”

Jacaerys cleared his throat. Moonlight tended to wash out the colour from anything illuminated by it, but you suspected he had gone red. “I will say nothing that will fuel those rumours. I only wanted privacy from my uncle, lest he be offended by my suggestion.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Is someone truly listening?”

“You’re within the walls of the Red Keep. Someone is always listening, except for in a scarce few places. I can show you some other time where I like to go for real privacy.” You tilted your head. “But let's hear your suggestion. I am curious to know what would offend Aemond so.”

“The Hightowers,” Jace started, “have mistreated you these past few days. You japed about it just now, but the Hand and the Queen have sche—”

You placed a finger to his lips, and his eyes widened, startled. He swallowed thickly, only relaxing when you moved your hand away. You then smiled and finished for him: “Yes, the Hand and the Queen upset me during my petition. But it is well-known that they always have the best interests of the Realm at heart—it is clear they were only acting for the benefit of the Seven Kingdoms when they contested my inheritance.” Giving Jace a meaningful look, you asked, “What of it?”

Jacaerys caught on quickly, thank the Seven. “It is understandable that they have the best interests of the Realm at heart, but I keep the best interests of yours in mine. I was not entirely jesting in the Great Hall: I would take you away from the Red Keep, if you so wished.”

You stared. “Take me away?”

“To Dragonstone,” he offered plainly. “Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon would happily host you for as long as you desired. I would be there to keep you company during your stay, as would Luke.”

“Ah. Do they want to take me as their ward?” It was unsurprising, you thought. They likely wanted your inheritance. But you played the fool: “Or do they need a dragonrider? I know Lord Velaryon has trouble with pirates every now and then. It would be sensible for Prince Daemon to solicit my help as they are allies, I suppose.”

“They aren't inviting you. I am.” You blinked at him, obviously uncomprehending, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “You could see the castle,” he began slowly. “Visit the beaches. Fly to Braavos to oversee your wealth, and I would accompany you if you liked. Vermax would be happy for it—I do believe he misses you.”

It was hard to believe in the generosity of the offer, though you knew generosity was in Jace’s nature when it came to you. Still, you needed to confirm it: “You want me to come to Dragonstone… for leisure?”

“If leisure is what you want, then yes. If for some reason you wish to labour, though, I am sure there is plenty to be done.” He smiled. “You could teach me Valyrian, to start.”

There was really nothing in the world that sounded more appealing than living in a darkly beautiful castle by the sea and tutoring a gorgeous prince who wished to take you to Braavos. Certainly, it would be the fantasy of any other maiden.

Still, you hesitated. “I am unsure if this is wise…”

Jacaerys leaned in then. “You've always wanted to get away from the Hightowers,” he said quietly, “even when we were children. Now is your chance.”

You raised a brow, wondering how you let that slip to anyone other than Aemond. “Did I tell you that?”

“You quite literally told me to rescue you from them.”

“Did I?” you asked, perplexed. But you recalled it a moment after: when Princess Rhaenyra was sent to Dragonstone and Jacaerys was downtrodden about parting from you. He had just lost Ser Harwin, so you’d felt poorly for him—had Aemond not been so feverishly ill from the loss of his eye, you might have actually asked Rhaenyra to host you so that you could stay with Jace a while. It made your heart ache that you couldn't be with him, especially since you knew what it felt like to see your father leave your home and then never return. So of course, you promised Jace that you would someday be reunited, and that you would stay by his side then.

You hadn't thought about those words in years.

“Oh,” you murmured, oddly touched, “yes, I suppose I did say that, didn’t I? I thought you would have forgotten about it by now.”

He gave you an expression that you couldn't quite decipher. “Of course I remembered,” he said earnestly. “You asked me to take you away—so let me.”

You stayed quiet for a long moment as you considered the offer. You heard the scrape of soles against brick on the balcony above you, the clink of knights’ armour below. All the eyes and ears of the Red Keep pressed upon you, and it made your heart pound.

“I can't,” you spoke carefully. You leaned forward—close enough to murmur into his ear. “The Queen has already arranged for the Tyrells to take me as a ward. If your mother were to take me on instead, then it would put both her and the Queen in an uncomfortable position. The Tyrells would be offended by them both. I do not think Princess Rhaenyra would want to malign a great house.” And I do not wish to know what Otto Hightower would do to me if I put Queen Alicent in such a sensitive position, you left unsaid.

You could see, in Jace’s eyes, his understanding, acceptance, and eventual disappointment in the reality of your situation.

“It would be wiser for you to stay,” he finally agreed, “but do know that if either Highgarden or the Red Keep become unbearable, there will always be a place on Dragonstone for you.”

You peered beyond the balcony, into the dark night where you imagined many eyes watching you. From the way Lady Tyrell had talked to you, you could tell that Highgarden would likely not be too different from the Red Keep—full of silver-tongued flatterers, keen whisperers, and elaborate schemes. It was exactly the kind of politicking that made you so eager to get away from King’s Landing—the kind of politicking that you would find anywhere there were those who thirsted for power.

And few people in the Realm desired power more than Rhaenyra.

“It is generous of the blacks to offer this,” you said finally. “If I could follow you to Dragonstone, then I would.”

“It is not the blacks who offer it,” Jacaerys replied. “I meant it when I said that I was inviting you. I only wish to offer you a place in which you are safe. If you ever find yourself wanting a home without flattery and falsehoods, then come join me on Dragonstone. I shall never turn you away.”

You gave him a wistful smile.

“You are very kind, Jace,” you replied gently, “and I love you dearly for it. But no such home could ever exist for a Targaryen.”

END PART IV

bonus: I posted a super horny excerpt of a fic where Jace is thinking about ******* you in that dress. enjoy! (yes he was losing his mind fr during that scene. aemond too but he was better at hiding it)

[archangeldyke-all]

giggling so bad imagining R shaving her bush and sevika being like oh my god do u hate me?!?! what did I do?!?! how can I make it up to u I'm sorry pleeeeeease never do this again we can talk it out next time please 😭😭

LMAOOO

men and minors dni

last month, your period crept up on you, and you woke up half convinced you'd been stabbed in your sleep.

you and sevika didn't even try to salvage the sheets, just throwing them in the trash before re-making the bed. your pajamas were ruined, and, grossest of all, your crotch was a sticky, bloody mess.

so, this month to avoid any more incidents, you've been sleeping on a towel in anticipation, wearing a pad to bed just in case, and... you've shaved.

you haven't shaved in years. you and sevika are both bush enjoyers, and neither of you have ever felt the need to take a razor to your pits or legs since you started dating. finding a razor to use is almost impossible, but you manage to find one buried in the far back of your bathroom closet.

you feel so... cold. and smooth. you're hyper-aware of the feeling of your underwear rubbing on your skin. it's strange. not unpleasant, but strange. with one last look down your pants at your hair-less pussy, you shrug and crawl into bed.

you think that's the end of it.

you go to sleep easily, waking up about an hour later when sevika crawls in bed behind you. she kisses you gently and you hum, wrapping your arms around her before you both fall asleep.

in the morning, though, you wake up to a horrified gasp.

"what!? what is it, is someone breaking in?" you ask, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. as you pull your hands away, though, you don't find sevika sitting beside you where she should be. she's hovering on top of you on all fours, a horrified look on her face. "sevika, what?!" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

"you shaved?!" sevika cries. you blink, your mind still half asleep, before finally looking down at your crotch.

you burst into laughter as you do. sevika's pulled your pants down your thighs in your sleep, clearly trying to give you a nice wake up call, and she's just now seeing your bare cunt. "sevika, for fuck's sake, i thought something horrible happened!" you laugh.

"something horrible has happened! why the fuck did you shave!?" sevika asks, her eyes wide and heartbroken. "d-did i piss you off, or something? whatever it is, baby, i promise i'll make it up to yo--"

"sevika!" you cackle. sevika pouts as she looks up from your pussy to your face. "baby, i shaved because my period's on the way and i didn't wanna deal with the mess again."

sevika's looking at you like you've lost your mind. "wha-- fuck that!" she whines. you chuckle. "what the fuck am i supposed to do when i'm goin' down on you now? my nose is gonna get all cold, i won't have anything to run my fingers through..." sevika looks seriously upset. you giggle just a little at the absurdity of the situation, then reach up to cup her face.

"it'll grow back, baby." you promise. sevika frowns.

"but then you'll just shave it off again!"

"no, i won't babe." you say. "not if you feel this strongly about it. plus, it's a lotta work-- i was scared to death i was gonna cut one of my lips off or something."

sevika chuckles. "thank you." she sighs, kissing your lips. you grin.

"thank you. y'know, most people have to deal with the opposite-- their partners forcin' them to shave before any intimacy at all... i'm glad you prefer the option that requires the least amount of work possible for me."

sevika giggles and kisses you. "i am pretty amazing, aren't i?" she asks. you nod.

"the fuckin' best." you agree.

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