#and the way the skirt flows around him in that shot

[babyblankyerror]

On the Stanley hit man thing(please note 1: prices are at least semi accurate to the 70s and 2: I have no idea how hitmen work and there’s only so many google searches I’m willing to have in my history. Also the name of The Guy is a reference to an actual person who was related to an actual big US government fuck up):

Rubbing soap and water into well-worn gloves in some gas station bathroom in the middle of the night was, at this point, a new normal for Stanley. There were better ways to do this, he knew that, but patience and a horrifying amount of soap did the job just fine. Better than leaving the gloves on the ground where someone might stumble across them and realise there are small dried splatters on them.

The best way to get blood out of fabric was to wash it out quickly. Flood it with water, then scrub soap into it and try to wear through it with paper towel after paper towel until the water runs clear. It was a similar method to removing paint from a roller or shirt. That meant that Stan could just pretend he’d messed up on some project, for an art class or something. Or was messing around with his brother's paints. There was only so well that could work after years of the same routine, but it still worked so there was no reason to change it.

As he ran the gloves under the faucet again, the water flowed only carrying suds. No more damning pinkish hue. Now he just had to dry them, and that could be done back in the Stanley-Mobile.

First he’d have to leave the gas station. Then call the number given to him last week when he got the job and tell them it was done. He’d learn where to meet them to get the back half of his payment, then he could see how to split it. Enough to keep going went to him, a little bit went towards saving in case of an emergency, and the rest went to his dork of a brother.

The first step, out of all of them, was always the hardest. There are only so many ways you can hide sopping wet gloves, especially when it’s warm enough out that you can’t just wear a bulky jacket with inner pockets.

He folded them in half, longways, and put one in each of his pant pockets. It was as inconspicuous as he could get.

Stan hurried to the door of the bathroom, before opening it at a much more reasonable speed and meandered out of the gas station store. He took special care to walk in plain view on his way out. As much as he’d love to skirt around the edge of the store to keep out of view, that would only look suspicious and risk drawing attention.

As the store door closed behind him he let his shoulders drop slightly and fished his gloves out of his pocket as well as his keys. His car was parked right outside so there was no need to separate the actions.

Unlocking the door he sat down in the driver’s seat. He already had a small towel on the passenger side of the bench seats. He dropped the gloves on the towel before swinging his door shut, sticking his key in the ignition, and starting the engine. There was a pay phone a few blocks down, but having just left the store he should still move his car.

It was funny how despite about… three years, he wants to say, he still was always on edge after a job. It made sense, considering that the jobs he took consisted of killing people, but it was still a lot of time to adjust to it. At least the pay was good, and he had ways to get through the actual murder part.

Just line up the shot, and count to three. If you make it to three you might chicken out and fail, or if you aren’t sure of aim you might panic since they keep breathing after the shot. Not to mention you leave a distinctive trace of who’s done it with the bullet. But guns left less room for regret and letting them live than knives or fists. It helped that he pulled the trigger on two, before his mind could catch up to what he was doing. By the time he was weighing whether or not he should do it, he was already checking to see if any blood was on him. Usually just his hands if he got close, but on occasion a drop or two would land elsewhere on him.

Shoes he filed the treads off left no recognizable prints as he would walk away.

The drive to the pay phone was silent beyond the low rattling of the engine. Shifting gears and parking the car was so automatic that if he was asked if he’d done it or not he genuinely wouldn’t know the answer. He took a few coins out of the cup holder and a note from where it was tucked into his front visor.

The air had the everpresent heat of summer, only cut through by a slight wind. He vaguely wondered if it was similar weather where Ford was. Sure Indiana was northeast of Arkansas, but it couldn’t account for that great of a change in weather. Especially since there would be enough plants to keep the heat in at night as opposed to if Ford was in the desert out West. Ford should have been in the desert out West, or at least just near it. He’d driven through the west coast once, it went from desert to a small bit of forest by the coast.

He slotted a coin into the phone and punched in the numbers written on the little sheet of paper. It rang for a few moments before someone answered with a tired ‘hello’. Made sense, it was probably around midnight.

“Is this S Higgins?” Stanley asked, staring up at the sky. The town was big enough that the lights faded some of the stars out. Probably for the best, Ford always liked the stars and it was best to not think about Ford when on the call with a client. His voice got too soft, and when your voice gets soft suddenly everything is up for negotiation.

“It is. I take it, you've done it?” The voice on the other end of the line replies. Always with euphemisms and never saying what they asked for. They wanted someone dead and now they’re dead, and he’s the only one that has to face it.

“Yup. You can check; Kelly on York street- dead center of Warren.” Stan says. He knows they won’t check, but it’s always best to give the information so there’s never any doubt he’s done it. It’ll be in the headlines anyways, Warren doesn’t seem like a place where a double homicide goes unreported on. A lovey dovey couple who just so happened to know a few details problematic to an ongoing political career.

“Is Ray’s in Monticello in three days good for you?” Came from the phone, crackly and disconnected. Three days, enough time for news and an investigation to start. Also enough time to plan out where to go next. There were certain people who talked, and it was through that grapevine his name got spread around. Or more accurately his license plate and car’s description did, it was not exactly inconspicuous, and with that ways to contact him. He just had to go wherever people who knew people that might want someone dead were. So pretty much anywhere, but he’d been thinking about seeing New Orleans so maybe he’d head there. And if nothing came up he was certain to find something in Mobile.

“Around lunch?” He asked. The least suspicious time of day. You could openly talk about his work at lunch and it would be taken as a joke. Because it’s the middle of the day and no actual plots could ever take place in the middle of the day.

“See you then.” The words came out and were quickly followed by a clack and silence. He set the phone up and made his way back to the Stanley-Mobile.

Monticello was less than twenty miles away. He could get there and get a motel room that night. But Warren was a small town and the newcomer disappearing the night of two murders would put the cops on his tail, so he swung around and headed back towards the motel he’d gotten a room at here.

The fact he didn’t immediately collapse meant he must have been running on adrenaline, and so rather than fight it for sleep he got his things packed. He’d sleep in and leave at a reasonable time in the morning before heading to Monticello. That seemed ideal.

��——

Over the next couple days the only notable occurrences were the headlines about what he’d done, and him visiting the Allen House. From murder to the suicide house tourist trap. Way to go him!

Stanley had to admit though, while the ‘hauntedness’ of the Allen House left something to be desired he enjoyed the fun romp. He could do it better if he wanted to, but that would mean getting a house which would probably require legal documents that were left back in the apartment on top of a pawn shop in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Or he could do it illegally, which was much more likely, but at this point too much of a hassle when his current gig worked just fine.

Noon was approaching though so he turned on the Stanley-Mobile and headed towards Ray’s.

The diner was somewhat cosy despite having a metal back wall that looked like that of a storage container. Probably the warm lighting, benches, and soft music playing from a radio on the counter. He grabbed a table by a window, staring out of it to wait.

After a few dozen minutes of nothing he decided to go ahead and order some fries and a burger, making sure it wasn’t enough he could reasonably eat. He got a to-go bag after picking at them for what he deemed a good amount of time.

It was maybe another half hour or a bit longer when he watched a slightly too-clean Pacer roll up. A man who looked like he’d just been told what ‘casual’ meant last night stepped out and headed towards the diner. That was, without a doubt, Higgins then.

When he walked in the door Stanley waved him over, calling his name with a slight cheer as the man came over.

“You did… the job.” Higgins muttered, pulling a chair opposite Stanley’s spot on a padded bench and shuffling to sit down.

“I did. It’s on the news if you need to check.” Stanley said, leaning back slightly.

“I… I already saw the news. I have the money.” Higgins said, pausing to hum and haw before continuing, “Three thousand, right? Here, in cash.” Higgins said, reaching into a pocket on the inside of his clearly not weather appropriate jacket. And right. Stanley really should remember to get checks and not cash. Checks were easy to hide, especially since he went about being a contract killer in the dumbest way. Instead of just getting in with one group and staying there with a consistent pay and a good public facing business set up for him, he traveled around and essentially worked commission. Granted he got his start making enemies, so maybe staying in one place wasn’t the best. Especially when he could then work for just about anyone he deemed not an immediate risk, instead of just one organization. No matter what though, he should get better about checks instead of cash. Too late now though. Stanley held his palm out and felt a small stack of hundred dollar bills hit his hand, with no small amount of worry. He clutched the bills and tilted his palm down, hiding them from any quick glances.

Stanley dropped the bills into the to go bag as he reached in, and pulled out a small container with the fries.

“I have extra if you want.” He said, opening the lid and turning them towards Higgins. The man seemed to writhe in his chair, face morphing into a performance of guilt. He was certainly new to this. Higgins got up with a rushed apology and excuse of having to get back home. Stanley watched him go and placed the fries back in the bag. Well, to the bank then. He should deposit the cash slowly, he knows this, but he’s fairly certain that the new semester is starting m at Backupsmore which means Ford will need to be spending his money on textbooks. Which means Stanley is going to be extra sure to pay for his tuition.

Stanley’s pretty sure he caught an article about Ford and some other guy proving something or other about the universe, and a few more campus newspapers mentioning the two of them spending time together. So his brother finally made a friend! He’d drive up and hug the nerd out of pride if he weren’t certain Ford wouldn’t be too willing to speak to him. He did figure though, that he had enough saved for an emergency that what he’d usually cut out of his pay for à ‘just in case’ could go to Ford’s friend instead. A brief line of phone books and library visits, as well as word of mouth, made it clear that the guy was also the first of his family to go to college. And was riding on a couple scholarships in order to just cover tuition, but probably still had to take out a loan or two. He wasn’t going to risk Ford’s friend having to drop out and leave him alone due to finances.

The face of the bank teller was of mild confusion when he went to deposit five hundred dollars. Just because he wasn’t waiting to deposit the money didn’t mean he was an idiot. He was just going to spend the day hopping between a few banks to do it in chunks. Stil suspicious on paper but he has a current guise of being ‘an artist’ so sudden large deposits because he ‘sold a painting’ at least didn’t get too many questions.

At the end of it all he ended up sending one thousand five hundred to Ford’s annual tuition, so he should be set for a while longer. Though the idiot of a genius was taking twelve different full courses and each individual course has its own lesser tuition so it wasn’t the full semester it would have been if his brother knew how to stop. Frankly that had been the main reason he’d stepped in, Ford probably could have managed the tuition for one or even two or three courses on his own but somewhere in his mind he’d decided that taking twelve was a good idea. Stanley’s sure Ford could have figured it out, but that’s his brother and he didn’t want Ford to have to figure it out.

He sent seven hundred to Ford's friends’ tuition after some double checking names, and so the apparent Fiddleford McGucket had one less thing to worry about.

That meant he had eight thousand remaining, he wouldn’t have to take another job for a while. A long while. Maybe he just goes to New Orleans as a vacation.

~~~~~~

Ford and Fiddleford were staring at the Backupsmore administrator. They’d gone to check up on what they had to pay for tuition, only to find out that not only had Ford’s gotten a significant amount paid(which was becoming an odd yet consistent occurrence) but Fiddleford’s as well.

The money had been wired in, which meant whoever sent it had a known bank account, but had apparently mandated anonymity. As far as the school administrators were aware, it could have been the king of England sending the money.

The walk back to their dorm was shared in stunned silence. It wasn’t until Ford was sitting on his bed that Fiddleford stopped pacing and stared out the window before gripping his hair and yelling, in the whisper yell mandates by shared walls, cried out.

“WHAT in the world is GOIN’ ON.”

Fiddleford turned to Ford, lowering his hands to gesture in confused annoyance.

“Well, we know whoever is sending this must have a lot of money on hand. And we have been covering a lot of neuroscience, and specifically how to alter brains- right? It’s probably some larger entity with stakes in our current research.” Ford posed, though his voice still tilted with unsureness.

“True, but you started getting the payments before the whole tie thing. So there must have been some sort of investment before then.” Fiddleford argued. Ford shrugged.

“I mean, I suppose the sheer number of courses I was taking may have been noteworthy?” He offered.

Fiddleford began to pace muttering to himself, before an idea seemed to strike him.

“Hey, if we can get into the school records and figure out what bank the money has been being wired from, maybe we can call them and ask for information?” Fiddleford suggested. Ford took a moment to think through the idea, before grinning and jumping up.

“Exactly! Even if we can’t get a name, we’ll still get a rough area and we can go through phone books until we find someone who has a ridiculous amount of disposable cash and a vested interest in both of us!” He exclaimed.

They were probably going to have to break into an office or something, hopefully childhood shenanigans with… his childhood shenanigans would help with that.

Bro you need to publish this on ao3 or post it on tumblr or SOMETHING because HOLY SHIT?!??!?!

THIS is exactly what I was imagining for the Au!!! This is fuckkng great!!! I LOVE LOVE THIS AND YOU AND AAAAAAAA

I imagine Fiddleford doesn't really worry about the random money Ford gets until HE starts getting it too. Then yeah he's freaking out because WHAT THE HECK??

I love this you wrote this so well, so nice and omg??? You did research??? That's more than I'd ever do XD

[timothyslucy]

it's not really her style i don't think, but i'm begging the rookie costume department to draw some inspiration from april's wedding dress for lucy, because they really got the disney princess vibes down to the t.

[littlelamy]

family thanksgiving with rafe

The house was alive with the warm chaos of Thanksgiving. The smell of roasting turkey wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. Your family filled the rooms with lively conversations, stories, and the occasional outburst of sibling bickering.

Rafe stood at your side, looking every bit the charming Southern gentleman as he greeted your family. His crisp button-up was neatly tucked into dark jeans, and his hair was combed just enough to look presentable but still had that boyish disarray you loved.

For a guy who claimed to be nervous about meeting your family, he was doing an excellent job of keeping his cool.

“You didn’t tell me your mom could cook like this,” Rafe murmured into your ear as you both carried dishes to the dining room. His voice was low, teasing, but the way his hand brushed your lower back as you walked sent a thrill down your spine.

“Behave,” you warned, shooting him a playful glare.

He smirked, but his eyes held a mischievous gleam. “I’m always on my best behavior, sweetheart.”

That was a lie, and you both knew it.

The first time he pulled you aside was when you were refilling your aunt’s wine glass in the kitchen. The others were still in the living room, chatting over appetizers.

“Rafe,” you hissed as his hand closed around your wrist, tugging you into the small pantry just off the kitchen.

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips already brushing yours.

The kiss was quick, soft, and utterly intoxicating. His hands rested on your hips, his thumbs rubbing slow circles that made your knees weak.

“Your mom’s a great cook, but you’re the only snack I care about tonight,” he murmured against your lips, his tone low and suggestive.

You shoved him lightly, a mix of exasperation and giddy laughter bubbling in your chest. “If someone catches us—”

“They won’t.” He kissed you again, longer this time, his lips moving with a confidence that made you forget the world outside the pantry.

The second time was when you were setting the table. He waited until everyone’s backs were turned, then leaned in to whisper something very inappropriate in your ear, making you nearly drop the fork you were holding.

“Rafe!” you scolded, trying to stifle your laughter.

He just grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “What? I’m just thankful for you, babe.”

By the time everyone gathered around the dining table, you were already on edge—not from the family chaos but from the man sitting beside you. Rafe looked innocent enough, nodding politely as your dad asked him about his job and laughing at your cousin’s awkward jokes. But under the table, his hand had found your thigh.

At first, it was a simple, comforting touch. His palm rested there casually, his thumb rubbing soft, lazy circles just above your knee. You shot him a warning glance, but he didn’t move his hand. If anything, his grip tightened slightly, a silent challenge in the way his lips quirked into a smirk.

The conversation at the table flowed, but your focus was entirely on him. Every time he squeezed your thigh or shifted his fingers, your pulse quickened.

When his hand slid higher, you nearly knocked over your water glass.

“You okay, sweetie?” your mom asked, looking at you with concern.

You forced a smile, your face burning. “Yep! Just clumsy.”

Rafe’s fingers stilled, but you knew it was only temporary.

As the meal continued, his touch became bolder. His fingers ghosted over the hem of your skirt, then dipped just beneath it. The light pressure against your skin sent a shiver up your spine, and you clenched your fists on your lap to keep from reacting.

“Pass the rolls, Rafe,” your uncle said, breaking the tension.

Rafe’s hand disappeared as he leaned forward, grabbing the basket and handing it over with a polite smile. He was the picture of innocence, completely unbothered by the storm he was stirring inside you.

The final straw came when Rafe dropped his fork.

“Shit,” he muttered, letting the utensil clatter to the floor. “I got it.”

You froze, your pulse skyrocketing as he ducked under the table. His movements were casual enough to keep suspicion at bay, but the moment his hand wrapped around your ankle, you knew you were in trouble.

“Rafe,” you hissed through clenched teeth, trying to sound firm, but it came out more like a plea.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice muffled under the table. “Just getting closer.”

The answer came when his lips pressed softly against the inside of your ankle. A rush of heat shot through you as he trailed kisses up your calf, his hands gently parting your knees.

Your grip tightened on the edge of the table as he moved higher, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just above your knee. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but the warmth of his mouth paired with the occasional graze of his fingers was driving you insane.

“Rafe,” you whispered again, more desperate this time.

“Shh,” he murmured, the vibration of his voice against your skin making you bite your lip to keep from reacting. “Mhm… just let me.”

His lips hovered just beneath the hem of your skirt, teasing in a way that made you squirm. His fingers slid further up, ghosting over your panties, and your stomach tightened as he paused, pressing his thumb against the damp fabric.

“So wet,” he muttered under his breath, almost too quietly for you to catch, but the deep tone sent a shiver down your spine.

You opened your mouth to scold him, but before you could, you felt it—a quick, deliberate kiss over the center of your panties.

Your entire body froze, a gasp threatening to escape as he lingered for a split second longer, his breath warm against the fabric.

“Got it!” Rafe’s voice rang out suddenly, cheerful and innocent as he reappeared with the fork in hand.

He slid back into his seat with a smug grin, completely unbothered by the chaos he’d caused.

You shot him a glare, your cheeks blazing with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You taste better than dessert, babe,” he whispered, his voice low and raspy, so only you could hear.

Your stomach flipped, and your thighs pressed together under the table. You refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, but judging by the satisfied look on his face, he already knew what kind of effect he had on you.

By the time dinner ended, you were ready to throttle him—and maybe fuck him senseless. As the family moved into the living room for coffee and dessert, Rafe caught your hand, pulling you into the hallway.

“You’re impossible,” you hissed, your voice low.

“And you love it,” he countered, backing you against the wall. His hands found your waist, and his lips were on yours before you could protest. The kiss was slow, deep, and absolutely intoxicating.

When he pulled back, his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Happy Thanksgiving, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “Happy Thanksgiving, Rafe.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy y @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[jaylalolz]

❛ 𝐌𝐑 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

ENEMY!reader x ENEMY!nicholas

SUMMARY, Nicholas didn’t enjoy attending parties, but he was forced to attend one. he immediately is drawn to a fascinating girl he saw, with a mask, only to discover that she is his only enemy.

WARNINGS, smuttyyyy

A/N, i love this plot sm. i hope you guys enjoy!! make sure to heart and leave a comment 🪽

The Halloween party was full, the throbbing beat of the music vibrating through the walls of the old house. Fog machines puffed clouds of smoke that snaked between costumed dancers, and the flashing strobe lights made it hard to tell where one person ended and another began. Everyone was masked, faces hidden behind elaborate disguises. Nicholas stood near the edge of the dance floor, observing the chaos around him through the dark eyeholes of his Ghostface mask.

He hated parties, hated the noise, hated the feeling of people crowding in too close. But what he hated most of all was her. Yet here he was, lingering on the outside because she was supposed to be here tonight. He didn’t know why it mattered—maybe he just wanted to see what kind of ridiculous costume she’d chosen. Probably something overly dramatic, like her personality.

Nicholas tugged at the sleeve of his black robe, adjusting the plastic knife in his hand. His friends had laughed when he chose the Ghostface costume, saying it was cliché. But right now, he was thankful for the anonymity it provided. He could watch, unbothered, shielded by the mask.

He scanned the room. People twirled and laughed, faces painted in ghoulish shades of makeup, masks obscuring their identities. Then he saw her.

She stood at the bar, her dark curls cascading down her back, black lace gloves covering her hands as she leaned against the counter. She was dressed in a black corset, the burgundy velvet of her skirt flowing around her legs. Her lips were painted a deep red, and even through her masquerade mask, Nicholas could tell she was trouble.

He didn’t know who she was, but there was something magnetic about her. Something familiar, though he couldn’t place it.

His feet moved before his brain could catch up, taking him toward the bar where she stood. She was sipping from a crimson-colored drink, her eyes scanning the crowd with an air of detached amusement.

Nicholas cleared his throat as he approached, and she turned to look at him, her gaze flicking over his Ghostface costume. She raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

“Nice mask,” she said, her voice smooth, but there was an edge to it, like she wasn’t easily impressed.

“You too,” he replied, though he had no idea what her costume was supposed to be. He wasn’t exactly up to date on vampire shows or whatever dark, gothic look she was pulling off.

She tilted her head, her eyes glittering beneath the mask. “Katherine.”

“Ghostface,” he shot back, earning him a chuckle.

Without another word, she downed the rest of her drink, then slid the glass across the bar. Her gloved hand extended toward him, a playful challenge in her eyes. “Dance?”

He hesitated for a second. Dancing wasn’t his thing, but something about her made it hard to say no. Maybe it was the mystery, the way her body moved with fluid grace, or the way she didn’t seem to care what anyone thought. And that smirk—it was infuriatingly tempting.

He grabbed her hand, the warmth of her fingers a surprise through the lace gloves, and let her lead him onto the dance floor.

The music shifted to something slower but still pulsing with energy, the bass thrumming through his chest. Around them, people swayed, masks blending into the darkened space, the flashing lights creating a disorienting blur of color.

She moved in closer, her body pressing against his as they danced. Nicholas felt the sharpness of her hips against his as she swayed, her arms snaking up around his neck. The contact sent a jolt through him, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he moved with her, their bodies falling into rhythm.

For a moment, he forgot about everything—the party, the rivalry, the irritation that always bubbled under the surface when he thought of her. All that existed was the masked woman in front of him, and the strange pull between them.

She tilted her head up, her lips barely an inch from his ear. “You dance better than I thought.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Nicholas muttered, his voice low, but there was no venom in his tone. It was strange, the way she was getting under his skin, making him forget about the person he usually was—the person who was always at odds with someone else.

“Big talk for someone hiding behind a mask,” she teased, her breath warm against his neck.

“You’re one to talk,” he shot back, his grip tightening on her waist. The banter felt effortless, but different. There wasn’t the usual bite to it. Just an undercurrent of something electric.

She let out a low laugh, her body pressing even closer, her hand sliding up to his mask. “What if I take it off?”

He froze, his heart thudding. For some reason, he didn’t want her to know who he was. Not yet.

“What if I don’t want you to?” he replied, his voice a little rougher, his thumb brushing over the fabric of her glove.

She paused, eyes flicking up to meet his through her mask. For a moment, the space between them crackled with tension—like they were standing on the edge of something neither of them quite understood.

Instead, her lips curled into a small, knowing smirk. Without a word, she nodded toward the stairs, a silent invitation.

Nicholas hesitated for a second, his thoughts tangled. Should he do this? But something about the way she moved, the subtle tilt of her head. It felt different. More dangerous.

And despite every instinct telling him to walk away, he found himself moving toward her.

She turned and started up the stairs, her skirt swaying with each step, and Nicholas followed, his heartbeat quickening. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he couldn’t stop himself from being drawn into whatever this was. The rest of the party faded away behind them, the noise muffled as they climbed higher, leaving the crowd below.

At the top of the stairs, she paused, glancing back at him with that same mischievous smile. "Coming?" she asked, her voice a little breathless, though still laced with challenge.

"Do I have a choice?" he muttered, his tone sharp, though his feet kept moving toward her.

"You always have a choice, ghostface," she replied, her gaze flicking over him like she was daring him to turn back.

But he didn’t.

She led him down a quiet hallway, stopping in front of a door that was cracked slightly open. Her fingers brushed the doorknob before she pushed it open wider, revealing a small, dimly lit room. It looked like a guest bedroom, draped in soft shadows from the single lamp in the corner. The sound of the party downstairs seemed miles away now, the noise distant and muted.

She stepped inside, casting a glance over her shoulder. "So," she said, her voice lower now, softer, but still carrying that familiar edge, "was the dance everything you expected?"

Nicholas stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, the click of the latch loud in the quiet space. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with careful eyes. "What are you playing at?"

She shrugged, moving to the center of the room, her fingers trailing along the edge of the bed. "Who says I’m playing?"

"Why did you invite me back here," he shot back, his eyes narrowing.

Her lips quirked up, but it wasn’t the smug smile he was used to. There was something else there, something more dangerous hiding just beneath the surface. "Wanna play a game, Mr ghostface?," she said quietly, turning to face him fully.

Nicholas swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yes" he says, his voice more certain than he intended.

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly against his chest. "Simon says.. lay on the bed" Her eyes searched his, her hand lingering over the fabric of his shirt.

Nicholas tensed under her touch, his heart pounding. Every fiber of his being told him this was a trap, that she was playing with him. But another part of him, the part that had spent the entire night dancing with her, wasn’t so sure.

"Okay" he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He lays down right at the center of the bed.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark. She starts crawling to him in all fours and sits on his crotch; making him gasp. “Wanna make a deal with the devil?”

Her words hung in the air between them, thick and heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Nicholas felt his pulse quicken, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Before he could think about it any longer, she was closer, her breath warm against his neck as she looked up at him. Her hand slid up, fingers lightly grazing his neck. "What’s the matter, Ghostface?" she murmured, her voice teasing but softer now, more intimate. "Scared of a challenge?"

But instead, he reached out, his fingers sliding through the soft curls at the back of her neck, pulling her closer. "I never back down from a challenge," he whispered, his breath mingling with hers.

Her eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, they were frozen, caught between something much more dangerous.

She took a slow, deliberate lean closer, looking up at him with that same devilish smile. “Simon says.. take my corset off”

He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, but then his hand moved finding the ribbons on her corset and untying them. She didn't move, her eyes locked on his, and the air between them crackled with tension.

"Good boy," she said softly, her lips curving up into a satisfied smile.

“Tell me you want this.” she demands

He nods his head eagerly. “Y-Yes i want it..” he says softly.

"You wanna grind a bit baby?" she smirks in interest. He nods in desperation, dying for it at this point.

He undoes his belt and is about to undo his jeans. His bulge is visible when he unzips, but it is kept hidden by his briefs.

He gently begins to rub himself up and down against her as he rubs his confined erection against her covered core. Her lips parted with an involuntary whimper into his as her gut clenched a sharp knot at the sensitivity.

Her lips twitched at his mercy, pressing herself up against him through the flimsy covering they wore. Her legs began to expand, which allowed him an enormous amount of access. He stretches out his hand to take a firm hold of her hair. "Fuck sakes—that feels good." she responds, pushing his bulge up and down.

He grabs her throat with a forceful motion and turns them over onto the large bed. He reaches down into her panties and runs two fingers up her slit while hovering above her. "Are you soaking wet for me, princess?"

He touched her clit, and she parted my lips. He holds her throat, caressing her core with his fingers.

"You sure you want this?" For the last time, he says. She nods rapidly, aching all over now and pleading to feel him. She cusses, unable to wait any longer, "Please fuck me."

He slowly presses his hips forward while maintaining his position. He drives his tip inside her calmly, her body stretching around him. "Fuck..." He lets out a low sigh.He gives a deep sigh of relief as he pushes just past the head, freezing with just enough. Along with the sensation came a surge of intense pressure and pleasure.

He tries to ease her into the change very slowly, rocking with only half of himself.

“Shit.." He whispers to himself. "You're so tight”

He continues to press until she eventually feels his hips reach the back of her thigh, which was now fully in contact with his chest. She threw back her head and stretched a little, gasping out as she was so full and tight around him. "I can feel you clench around me.." With a stutter of delight, he stammers into the air, the squeeze tightly holding him.

He begins to make more rhythmic hip movements. She felt a warm sensation of pleasure begin to flare up in her lower abdomen as he began to swear. She arched her back involuntarily, but he quickly secured her back into a flat position on the bed.

"Yes— right there." she cried out in pleasure. Her fingers came in contact with her mask as she yanks it out of her face.

It hit him like a punch to the gut.

It was her. His rival. The girl he couldn't stand-the one who always got under his skin, who infuriated him more than anyone else.

The realization sent a thrill of anger— and something else-coursing through him. “Fuck!” She presses against his shoulder as he loses control and grips the back of her neck, slamming her against him. She gasped at the abrupt angle, but before she could react, he grabbed hold of her and began thrusting up into her.

He shouldn’t have continued what he was doing when he realized she was rival his him. But instead, it motivated him to move more quickly. She slams her head back against the mattress. Her thighs quivering in his presence. She was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that she didn't say anything during the high.

She groans at the sensitivity even though she was suddenly exhausted by his sloppy and sluggish thrusting. She couldn't take her eyes off him, even if her lids were heavy.

He twitches inside her, then instantly releases his hold on her stomach by pulling out. Releasing in his climax, he was death grasping the bed cushion above and behind her head. his big hands gripping her sides and his head was buried in her chest.

“Are you gonna take your mask off?”

“I think It’s best If I don’t”

[evie-sturns]

calm - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a terrible day of arguing with your boyfriend, accidentally breaking your favorite perfume, and now your hair and outfit not going to plan, all your emotions hit you at once and matt has to calm you down.

contains: fluff, crying, arguing, comforting!matt.

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

10:38am

i huff angrily as i tug up my knotty hair into a ponytail, my arms burn while i attempt to tie the elastic around my thick hair. suddenly the elastic snaps, pinging my hand almost in a mocking way.

"oh for fucks sake!" i whine, throwing my fact into my hands as i reach for the hair gel.

i plop more on the top of my head, my hands now sticky and my whole body sweating. i finally get my hair up into a ponytail, but it looks like total shit.

i sigh before stomping out of the bathroom into matt and i's shared room, i swing open the door and ignore matt as i reach for the closet.

matt and i have argued a record amount of times today, it's almost impressive.

flashback:

it was 6 in the morning, and i rolled over onto matt accidentally.

he shoots up in bed as i lay my body weight on his arm, "ow! ow get the fuck off!" he says in a pissy mood, i drift awake slowly as matt shoves me off him.

"matt come on." i groan, grabbing my shoulder from where he just shoved me off of him. "dont say come on like you didn't just break my fucking arm and wake me up at 6am in one sweep."

"i'm not that heavy matt, don't be stupid." i scoff, rolling over in bed to the edge of the mattress, a good meter away from him.

"yes you are, your fully body weight was on my arm." he says with an attitude,

"so you're calling me fat?" i ask angrily,

"dude, just go get out of here." matt demands, pointing towards the door, the nickname stinging a little bit.

"its my room matt, i'll stay right here, not my fault your acting like a child." i raise my voice, slamming my body down onto the mattress and tugging the covers up over me, my back facing matt.

i wasn't expecting matt to leave, but he did. he shot up out of bed and grabbed his pillow, he walked swiftly out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him

and i think that set the mood for the whole day, because now 4 hours have passed and we’ve argued about matt being lazy, me leaving out dishes, him ignoring me, and me apparently being a brat.

-

i sort through our closet, tugging out a small skirt and one of matt's shirt.

"did i say you could borrow that?" matt speaks from the edge of the bed, my head snaps round to look at him.

"stop matt!" i almost yell, which shuts matt up quickly.

i storm back into the bathroom, i hear matt laugh slightly from behind me.

i tear off my pyjamas, and tug up the tiny skirt. as i go to zip up the sides the zipper pops off.

and that will do it.

i erupt into a loud sob, which quickly escalates into floods of tears.

i hear some movement coming from matt and i’s room before the bathroom door swings open, matt takes one look at me and his face drops.

i don’t want to look at him, or for matt to see me like this.

“hey- hey what’s going on sweetheart?” matt says, panic clear in his voice as he reaches for the side of my face.

i shake my head as more and more tears flow down my flushed cheeks.

he wraps his arms around me and i bury my face in the fabric of his shirt.

i let out shaky breaths as i attempt to calm myself down, my body shaking in matt’s arms.

“come- come to the bedroom.” he whispers into my hair before picking me up by my ass.

i nod as i bury my face into his shoulder, matt carries me into our air conditioned bedroom and plops me down on the edge of the bed.

my legs dangle of the edge of the matress, matt sits down right beside me, the matress shifting under his weight.

he wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me closer to him as i continue to cry.

“what’s going on baby.” matt says softly, rubbing my back.

i crawl over and sit myself down on matt’s lap, straddling him.

he grabs the sides of my face with two hands, his thumbs wiping my tears delicately.

“you- you’re mad at me.” i squeeze out with a loud voice crack

matt’s eyebrows furrow, but i continue to speak “and- and i don’t look good.. like my hair and outfit.” i sniff

matt plants a kiss to my swollen lips, he grabs my chin, making me look at him.

“i would never be mad at you princess, sometimes people fight and that’s okay, but what happened today wasn’t worth fighting for.” matt says while looking into my eyes

“and you look absolutely gorgeous, honestly.” matt says, his eyes gazing over my face.

“i didn’t mean to wake you up this morning- i promise.” i sob, letting my head fall onto matt’s shoulder.

“you know i’m grumpy in the mornings don’t you, it’s not your fault, and i’m so sorry for making you feel like it was.” matt sighs, rubbing my back soothingly.

i sit on his lap in silence for a couple minutes as i take in sharp breaths.

i feel matts chest rise and fall against mine, i attempt to copy his breathing.

“my skirt broke earlier.” i say lightly, lifting my face away from matt’s shoulder.

“did it?” matt asks, his head tilting down as his long fingers inspect my skirt.

i nod, pointing to the broken zip. “i’ll get you another one tomorrow, how about that?” he speaks with a small smile.

“you don’t have to do that.” i breathe, “i’m gonna do it anyway as an apology for how i acted today.” he protests.

“let’s get you out of that skirt then if it’s broken.” matt suggests, picking me up again and walking me over the the closet.

he pulls out a pair of his sweatpants and brings me back over to the bed, matt places me down on the edge of the bed and bends down.

his hands tug down the hem of my skirt, pulling it down my thighs.

he purses his lips out of concentration before tugging the sweatpants up my legs.

he stands back up “you want your hair out?” he asks,

“it’s gonna be crunchy if i take it out, because of the amount of gel i put in.. but it’s also tugging on my scalp like crazy.”

“i’ll wash your hair later for you.” matt smiles, he’s always loved washing my hair for some reason.

i wipe my face, flustered by his words.

“do you want some water?” he asks, i rub my puffy eyes with a nod.

he walks over to me and grabs my hand, tugging me up off the bed. matt walks me out of our room into the corridor.

i follow closely behind him as we walk down the corridor into the kitchen.

i stand next to the counter top, matt walks over to me and grabs me under my armpits before lifting me up onto the countertop.

he grabs a cup and fills it up with cold water before walking over to me.

he holds it up to my lips, “and… open.” he says, i open my mouth slightly and matt pours some water into my mouth,

he accidentally pours too much, my cheeks hollowing out as i lock eyes with him.

i let out a loud laugh, spraying the water all over his shirt.

i slam a hand over my mouth as the water leaks down my chin.

“oh- my god.” matt erupts into laughter, both of our laughs filling the room.

“i am so sorry-“ i say in between giggles.

“how did that even happen-“ matt rubs his eyes with a wide smile,

“i’m so sorry- i don’t even know-“ i laugh,

but i’m cut off by his soft lips pressed against mine.

“i love you.” he mutters against my lips with a grin,

“i love you more.”

——

@gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @mattybsgf @stupid4sturniolo @lydi2718 @chrisstopherfilmed2 @flosslikeabosss @zturndq @skysturniolo @jetaimevous @sturniolo04 @luxy-nyx @aliceloveschris @livvy4realll @chrissturnsss @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @ecilphttlunar @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @chrisgetsmewetterxo @mattsonly @justalittle47 @mattsturnioloisbae@sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @pkfferoo @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72

[ultravi0lence14]

Only Angel

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.9k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: dean winchester needed a little clarity in his life, and you were just his only angel to do it.

dean watched as you sat on the sidewalk in front of the motel, back hunched and eyes raking over the passages in a book sam had given you. he could see the angelic side of you clear as day, but that could’ve just been dean admiring your pretty features.

around a year ago, when dean was taken out of hell and met the angel castiel, he and his brother learned that cas wasn’t the only angel who decided to touch down to earth. you followed behind cas like a confused puppy, looking at earth and all the things you’d only heard about in passing from different angels.

you were always catching dean’s attention. whether it be the way you just sat and stared sometimes, hands placed in your lap and eyes vacant like there was no thought behind them. but somehow, dean knew that you were thinking about heaven. you had rebelled just like cas, and he could see it on your face that those human emotions were starting to take a tole on you.

when he found you one night sitting per usual, dean couldn’t stop himself from gently grabbing your arm and leading you to the small field behind the motel. there, he instructed you to look up, showing you all the stars in the sky and telling you that whenever you missed heaven, just look up, and you can imagine all your brothers and sisters as those little beams of light.

he even tried to tell you that when lightening struck, you could envision it as your brothers and sisters bowling. but all you did was stare at him funny, informing him that angel’s didn’t play any recreational games in heaven.

since that night, you felt drawn to dean. always going to him when you had questions, staying close to him when you and cas were around. dean noticed it too, but he couldn’t find any place in himself where he wanted you to stop.

so the night you appeared to dean in his motel room, not saying a word as you quickly strode over to him and planted your lips on his, dean couldn’t find it in himself to push you away. he tangled his hands in your hair, bringing you close by the small of your back and drinking in the addictive feeling of your lips on his.

the movement of your lips were small and tentative, but dean didn’t seem to care. you being shy and inexperienced added more to the charm you already exuded, and dean loved every bit of it.

you later told him that the reason you kissed him was because that’s what sam told you to do when you felt fluttery feelings in your stomach around someone. dean swore to himself that he’d be owing sam for the rest of his life because of that.

that was all a couple months ago, and now, dean watched as you shifted a strand of hair behind your ear. the black and white striped tank top, alongside the dusty pink skirt that flowed around your thighs made him want to pick you up and take you right there in the back of the impala; but dean didn’t want to rush you, so he fought his self control as best as he could.

a soft sound of feet shuffling against gravel rang through dean’s ears as he leaned over the impala’s hood, tinkering with the gears and wires to make sure everything was okay. he didn’t think much of it, but since his back was facing where you were initially sitting, he had no idea that it was your ballet flat covered feet making all the noise.

“hey dean?” your voice rang from somewhere in front of him, not sparking any questions as he gravelly called out a ‘yes baby?’ in response to your ribbon like soft voice. “when are you going to teach me how to use this?”

he lifted his head in surprise, a quizzical look dawning on his face. when he turned and noticed you weren’t sat behind him anymore, he slowly moved his head towards the boot of the impala and watched with shock as you held a shot gun full of rock salt in your arms.

eyes wide, he quickly moved his head from under the hood and rushed over to you with breaths of ‘woah’ under his lips. in an instant, he took it from your hands, ignoring your adorable pouty lips as he placed it back in the trunk. “jesus feather’s, be careful. could’ve taken an eye out.”

you frowned as he simply just walked away, ignoring your original question and moving to the front seat of the impala. “you didn’t answer my question dean.” your feet planted themselves by the opening of the drivers side door. left foot tapping impatiently as you stared intently at dean’s side profile. “i want to learn how to use it.”

dean just chuckled, turning to plant his feet on the gravel and staring into your stoic eyes. instead of dangling by your side, you had your arms crossed over your chest in a defiance of anger. though dean couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked.

“i’m not kidding dean!” you basically whined, sending thoughts to dean’s head that he probably shouldn’t be thinking at the moment. “i want to be helpful. my grace can only take me so far.”

with a sigh leaving his lips, dean held back his immediate rebuttal to your argument. he wanted you to feel useful. feel how important you were to him and sam. he just selfishly didn’t want you to be corrupted by all the things that ruined him. you were so pure in your own sense. being able to use your grace to fight was one way you held onto that angelic side of you. he couldn’t bare do that to you.

dean also knew that you wanted to do this. all he could muster to do was grip your waist tightly in his hands and drag your body in between his legs. his arms went up to wrap around your lower back and torso, head tilted upwards so he could look at you through his lashes. you knew he was trying to use his charm and looks to sway you towards his ideas. you felt like a lovesick follow for following his bright green eyes so easily.

“you are helpful in your own ways baby, i hope you know that.” with a grin on his lips, dean stood up and rested his hands low on your ass, giving it a firm tap before kissing your cheek. “though if this is what you want, than get in the car. i have an idea.”

a light squeal left your lips as you reached on your tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on dean’s lips. your feet shuffled around the impala and into the passenger seat, watching as dean slammed the hood of the car down and situated himself behind the wheel. in an instant, he was backing out of the parking lot and speeding down the street.

he turned onto a desolate side street, fields and dirt roads in every direction as the smell of fresh grass wafted through the windows. you looked quizzically out at the scenery, wondering what dean had in mind as his hand rested gently on your upper thigh.

slowly stopping beside an open field, dean got out of the car, watching idly as his angel sat stiff and still in the car. grabbing one of the many hand guns from the trunk, dean opened the passenger side door and chuckled as you stared up at him with wide, curious eyes. “c’mon sweets. i’m gonna teach you how to shoot.”

with an eager and excited smile on your face, you scampered out of the car and flung your arms around dean’s shoulders. peppering many kisses around his face, you joyously mumbled thank you’s into each of your kisses. dean’s laugh reverberated off his chest as you ran off towards the middle of the field, waving him over when you found a good spot.

meeting you where the field took a decline to a hill; showing acres of grass and trees at the bottom, dean slowly handed you the gun as he situated himself behind you. “the first and most important thing to know is how to hold it.” dean snaked his arms around your body as he spoke, arms positioning your own as his hands clutched yours in the perfect position.

“there ya go angel. just like that, you’re doing amazing.” dean’s praise fell deftly onto the shell of your ear, his breath hitting a spot on your neck that made a deep sigh erupt from your throat. dean’s explanation on how to aim and the recoil of some gun’s fell deaf to your ears. all you could feel was his arms wrapped around you, his solid chest pressed to your back as his chin rested on your shoulder. this was too much. and you were starting to wonder if asking dean to fuck you, right now, in the impala’s back seat, was such a bad idea.

“now just put your finger on the trigger.” dean’s words started to register again in your brain, and when you felt him back up a bit and allow you to get into position, you felt the desire you had moments ago be replaced by the overwhelming feeling of learning something new.

dean watched you as you got into position. squaring your shoulders and lifting your arms up in aim as dean relished in how you looked at the moment.

you looked so out of place. so out of your element as you held one of his guns, skirt billowing around your upper thighs in the wind. you looked out of place, but so ethereal. so beautiful in dean’s eyes that he couldn’t believe you chose him.

“is this okay?” your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as you questioned the placement of your arms. dean couldn’t help but move closer to your back again as he looked over your stance.

“yeah lovely, that’s perfect. you’re doin’ amazing.” his words encouraged you to pull the trigger, a loud pop ringing through the air as the bullet whizzed right into the lone beer bottle that dean had grabbed earlier for target practice.

an excited squeak tore from your lips, legs jumping up and down as dean’s arms wrapped around your middle. he swung you around, exclaiming in happiness as you laughed with joy. you did it on your first try, and dean couldn’t be anymore proud.

“look at you baby, that was amazing.” dean’s excitement could be heard through his voice. when he spun you around, the glimmer of pride even sparked in his eyes. “i’m so proud of you, angel, you’ve come so far.” no words came from your mouth. all you could manage was a feeble hug to show your love. dean knew what you were implying, hugging you back twice as hard as his hand smoothed down your hair.

his mouth was by your ear, whispering sweet nothings as you held onto him tightly. with a gentle kiss on his collarbone, you pulled away and grabbed his hand, dragging him back to the car with a happy skip in your step. “c’mon! i wanna go back to the motel and tell sam and cas!”

how could dean say no to his perfect angel? his only angel.

[gremlingottoosilly]

I Adore the One-shot of Maid!reader x könig , total peak , How will könig react to the reader accepting his actions bc she needs him to pay the bills?

Konig is glad to be a provider. Ready to get home only to be greeted with the sight of your beautiful ass on display for him. You bend over, crouching to get some stains from the carpet. Fucking beautiful, he thinks. It was worth weeks in that fucking dessert, sweating off his boots so he could get a paycheck so fat, he closed the deal on the house. Konig knows how to provide - knows that nice girls require nice houses, one car per household at the minimum. They need regular flowers and a big allowance for their pins, needles, and cute dresses. He isn't sure exactly what you want, but he is willing to try. Trial and error. Getting hit on the head with a plate and atoning for his sins with his tongue between your legs. He is so, so sorry - didn't want to anger you, his sweet darling, he just needed to see where he did wrong (everywhere). He doesn't like the way you still act, as if it's a job. Giving him three kisses per day, everything was so strict and rehearsed. He wants a spontaneous blowjob in bed and some cheek kisses before he goes to his monthly getaway of killing people. He wants to hold you during the night and feel your chilly body get closer to him, wrapping your cold legs around his and searching for his natural heat. He wants to feel you tug at his blanket during the night and ultimately give in to your whims, ignoring that little whisper in the back of his mind, reminding him that he can snap your pretty neck in one swift movement. You're still playing maid - or a housewife, as something more appropriate. He brings you a maid costume, and you agree to wear it - a short skirt flows around your legs, revealing too much. You'd ask for a new phone and a fresh set of bed sheets. Better then, a shopping spree - all of the house appliances, cute little napkins, and hand-painted mugs. You'd push your lips all over his scarred face after this, your tongue mapping the upper layer of skin tissue. He pays your bills and you accept the comfort he provides. Never give him things that he truly craves - not unless he is willing to stop behaving like a rabid dog. Sometimes, you scratch behind his ear after you make evening tea, and he leans into your touch. Overgrown puppy, bullied into being a killer. You don't mind, as long as he doesn't drop blood all over the new carpet. And if he does, you'd just make sure he will buy a new one, so he could fuck you on it.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Trick or Treat | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is my second Halloween fic this year because I have no self control!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: anxiety

Sam’s Halloween bash launched into full swing, and seemed as though it would last till sunrise. Music pulsed through a set of massive speakers. Alcohol flowed. And throngs of people danced the night away.

Just as Sam instructed, everyone arrived decked out in costume. And as you scanned the crowd, you found Ghost Face doing shots with Barbie. Michael Myers grinding on Freddy Kreuger. Pennywise flirting with Beetlejuice. It was a picture perfect Halloween party- save for one thing. 

Bucky hadn’t arrived yet.

All of the partygoers formed a large, pulsating mass as they danced and celebrated, but you remained off to the side. In an empty, isolated corner, you checked and rechecked your texts. You’d already shot Bucky a few messages asking when he’d show. Asking if he was alright. And he swore he was fine. He said he’d be there soon, but that was as specific as he’d get. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute!” Wanda yelled over the music. She swayed to the beat, swishing the skirt of her dress back and forth. Every few seconds, she stole a glance at the dance floor with want in her eyes. “Come on, let’s go dance!”

“I’m with Mary,” Nat downed the last of her drink and draped her arm over Wanda’s shoulders. “The Sanderson Sisters are the life of the party, we have a reputation to uphold!”

When the three of you decided to coordinate your costumes, Hocus Pocus had been the obvious choice. In the weeks leading up to Sam’s party, you helped one another piece together flawless renditions of each Sanderson Sister. Wanda decided on Mary, and Nat dressed up as Sarah, leaving you to adopt Winifred’s famous ensemble. 

And you had to admit, the three of you looked amazing. 

But you couldn’t run to the dance floor and party with abandon- not yet, anyway. Bucky said he’d be there. He swore to you that he’d make an appearance. And while a loud, overcrowded party wasn’t his favorite way to spend an evening, he knew he had to challenge himself. To expand his comfort zone. 

He wanted so badly to be “normal”. To function like a “regular” person. But he struggled. He had flashbacks. Panic attacks. Long depression spirals. And his anxiety always had the reigns. 

But he’d fought tooth and nail to vanquish his demons, and now that he was making progress and healing bit by bit, he wanted to join the ranks of "ordinary" society. 

And Sam’s party was the perfect opportunity. It was a safe, controlled environment where Bucky could stretch his comfort zone. Sure, it was loud and packed with people, but that was the whole point. If he was going to be “normal”, he had to be okay with noise and crowds; Sam’s party had both. But there was nothing for him to worry about, nothing to fear. He would perfectly and totally safe here. At least half of the attendees were fellow special agents, and you and Sam promised to stick with him all night. 

But the party started over an hour ago, and he still hadn’t shown. Worry creased your brow; it wasn’t like him to be late. 

“I think I’m just gonna hang out here for now,” you leaned against the wall and brandished your phone at them, “So I can make sure I don’t miss a call or anything.”

“You do you, sister,” Nat brushed a kiss against your cheek, “Mary and I are gonna command the dance floor.”

The two of them ran off, arm in arm, in the direction of the crowd. 

“Is he on his way?” Sam came around the corner, two drinks in hand. He extended one in your direction and sipped on the other. “I haven’t heard back.”

“I don’t know.” You took a long pull of your drink, “I asked if he was coming and he said yes, but he didn’t give me a specific ETA, or anything.”

Sam shrugged, “I think he might flake.”

That same sneaking suspicion had crossed your mind a few times over the last hour, but you refused to accept it. Surely, Bucky just needed a little extra time to prepare himself. To get in the right headspace. 

“I’m gonna- would you take this for a sec?” You handed your drink back to Sam, who swore to keep a watchful eye on it while you stepped outside to call Bucky. 

The phone rang and rang. And you feared it might go to voicemail. But at the last possible second, Bucky picked up. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Something was off. He sounded almost nervous, like he’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, Buck.” You kept your tone light. “Are you gonna be here soon?”

A long silence permeated the line.

“Um, yes. Yeah, I’m on my way right now,” he assured you. “Shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll see you in a bit. Okay?”

“Great." You didn't buy it for a second. "See you soon.”

For an ex-assassin with decades of stealth training and countless kills on his hands, Bucky was a terrible liar. But only when it came to you. He just couldn’t deceive his best friend, couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes. He simply didn’t have it in him; his brain and body rejected even the concept of swindling you. 

You knew for a fact that he was still at his apartment. Knew that his anxiety had won. You could practically see him sitting at home all alone, hating himself for flaking on yet another get-together. And while his closest friends danced the night away, he’d spend the entire evening berating himself. Chastising himself.

But you wouldn’t allow it. With a determined huff, you ditched the party, and set off in the direction of Bucky's apartment.

Bucky stared at the costume you’d carefully helped him assemble. It sat neatly folded on his kitchen table, all he had to do was put it on and head out the door. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. And it infuriated him. 

He spent weeks mentally preparing himself for this. He meditated, journaled, and even sought out extra therapy sessions. But none of it worked. He was still a slave to his anxiety, bending to every whim of the monsters in his head.

The whole thing was so stupid- it was just a party. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to fear. But part of his brain, the part that hated him, told him it would be too much. That he’d immediately get overwhelmed by the noise and the people and the lights. That it was a panic attack waiting to happen. 

He feared what onlookers might think, what they might say, if he broke down in the middle of the festivities. And he didn’t want to chance ruining Sam’s party.

And so, he’d lied to you. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was for the best. He just wanted you to have a good time. Wanted you to spend the night dancing with Nat and Wanda instead of worrying about him. It was better this way. 

A sharp knock jolted him from his seat on the couch. He crossed to the front door and pulled it open, expecting to see a group of candy-obsessed kids in costumes. But he found something else, entirely.

“Trick or treat!” You held a bottle of whiskey and a bag of candy proudly in the air, “Happy Halloween, Buck.”

Bucky took on a deer in the headlights kind of look. He was shocked, completely frozen. And as the surprise melted away, he found himself awash in strange mix of anxiety and guilt. You’d caught him in his lie; you’d found him out. And with you standing on his doorstep, he had nowhere to run. 

“Sweetheart, hey. Hi. Um, Happy- Yeah, Happy Halloween.” He tripped over himself again and again, his heart racing. “I was just about to call you and-”

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble,” you shot him a wink. “I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

He gestured for you to come in and you happily accepted, sweeping past him in your elaborate costume. But he was so bewildered, so overwhelmed, that he left the door wide open.

“What are you doing here?” Quickly, he clarified, “Not that I don’t want you here. I just mean- why aren’t you at the party?”

“Cause I came to hang out with you!” You shrugged, “Plus, there’s no point in me going if you’re not there.”

Bucky appreciated your loyalty, your dedication to him. But he couldn’t let you sit on the sidelines with him.

“That’s sweet of you, and I’m more than happy to have you here, but I know you’ve been looking forward to the party and your costume and everything. And I don’t want to ruin your Halloween.” He leaned against his open door, “So, it won’t hurt my feelings if you-”

“My Halloween will only be ruined if we don’t hang out. So, come on,” once again, you held up the candy and alcohol, “trick or treat, Buck.”

With a stubborn smile, Bucky shut the door. He watched you struggle with the bag of candy and laughed as you used your teeth to tear through the plastic.

“You know, I think you’re doing the whole ‘trick or treat’ thing backwards,” he said as he fished a Twix out of the bag. “Cause you brought candy instead of taking some from me.”

“Or maybe I’m a Halloween pioneer, and I’m inventing new traditions,” you offered. “Now, let’s crack this open.”

Bucky gladly took the bottle of whiskey from you and led you to the kitchen. He crafted old fashioneds for the both of you and clinked his glass with yours. His night had taken a very sharp, very sudden upswing, and he was more than grateful.

“I saw some kiddos trick or treating down the hall, and at least four of them were dressed up like Sam,” you laughed. “Have they been here yet?”

You eyed the large bowl of candy sitting by the front door. It was still full, nearly overflowing with sugary treats. And you realized: it was completely untouched. No greedy little hands had dug through it yet. No mischievous kids had snatched a handful or two. It just sat there, waiting. 

It was sweet of Bucky to be prepared, to buy treats for the kids in the area. He was trying so hard to connect with people. To be a member of society. He wanted so badly to be seen as a person. But the world only saw him for his past. 

“Um, no, I haven’t had any trick or treaters,” Bucky said, “Well, except for you.”

You shot him a wink a took a drag of your drink.

“But I’ve heard them- they’ve been running up and down my hall all night. I just don’t think…” He clinked his metal fingers against his glass, “I don’t think any of the parents in my building want their kids knocking on my door.”

His shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, and his head fell an inch or two. Saying it out loud was humiliating. He’d thought- he’d hoped- that the city would embrace him. That they’d celebrate his return. But the only welcome he’d received was dirty looks and people spitting at him on the subway.

Bucky’s words knocked the air from your chest. A combination of heartbreak and unbridled rage swirled inside of you; it was all so unfair. Bucky didn’t deserve to be treated like a pariah or a threat. He was least intimidating, most approachable person you’d ever met. Sure, he was a little shy. But he was so warm. So kind. He genuinely cared about people. He wanted to help his community and make people feel safe. But they refused to give him a chance.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you took his hand in yours, “More candy for us.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a long, much needed hug. He would never be able to express how much he appreciated your undying support. Your unconditional friendship. He knew without a doubt that he could always count on you. And after living in an unpredictable, erratic state of limbo for so many years, he cherished your consistency.

Bucky dug through the candy you brought, searching for a Snickers. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m really glad you came over.” He abandoned his candy hunt and brought his gaze up to yours, “Seriously. Thanks for being here.”

“Anytime, Buck. You know that.” You tucked the bag of candy under your arm and snatched your glass from the counter, “Come on, let’s watch a scary movie.”

Bucky followed your lead, only straying from the path for a moment or two. And when he returned, he brandished his overflowing bowl of candy in your direction. “I mean, if the kids aren’t gonna eat it…”

He sank into the couch next to you and took a swig of his drink as he watched you dig through the massive bowl of candy. A bit of guilt gnawed at him; he’d been so surprised to see you at his door that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the hard work you’d put into your costume. And as you picked through his candy stash, he drank in the details of your ensemble: the perfectly crafted make up, the ornate dress, the complicated hairstyle. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Your costume is fucking incredible, by the way. You did an amazing job.”

“Oh, thanks!” A proud smile stretched across your face, “If it wasn’t so ridiculously uncomfortable, I’d probably wear it every day. But this corset is…” You pinched and pulled at the tight garment, “Definitely not intended for daily wear.”

“Then let me get you something to more comfortable.” Bucky was up in the blink of an eye, and before you could protest, he was gone. 

In the time it took you to locate and unwrap a Kit Kat, he’d arrived in the living room with a change of clothes for you. It was just a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt with BROOKLYN emblazoned on the front, but after spending hours in an uncomfortable corset, you swore he was offering you a slice of heaven. 

With greedy hands, you accepted the clothes, “You’re a life saver!”

You sped off down the hall, promising to be back in a flash.

Bucky scrolled through the scary movies Netflix had to offer, but didn’t pay much attention. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d planned on spending the night all by himself. He figured he’d oscillate between sulking and self-flagellation until he finally fell asleep. But you’d saved him, as you so often did.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for the clothes. Now, I can actually breathe.” You plopped down on the couch next to Bucky, “Okay, what do you wanna watch?”

Bucky scrolled through a few more movies, “I don’t know, I haven’t heard of most of these. I thought I’d defer to you.”

You motioned for him to continue scrolling and gave him a little synopsis each time one of your favorites popped up on the screen.

He listened closely and took your summaries into careful consideration. And after hemming and hawing over his options, he found himself torn. “This is tough, but I’m thinking we go with It Follows or Evil Dead.”

“Both excellent choices!” You clinked your glass against his, “Let’s do It Follows first, and then if we want to watch another, we can follow up with Evil Dead.”

“Deal.” 

Bucky scrolled back a page or two and selected It Follows. The movie’s opening scene began, showcasing a quiet, suburban street. You tucked yourself closer into Bucky’s side and tore into a package of M&Ms, preparing to be scared. 

But after only a minute or so, Bucky paused the movie.

He turned to you, “Hey, I’m sorry about the party.”

“Buck, we talked about this. I’d rather hang out with you than-”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry I bailed.” He pulled his gaze from your face and placed it on the ice melting in his drink. “My anxiety kind got the best of me. And I-” He locked eyes with you, “I swear I tried. I wanted to go. But I just… I couldn’t do it.” His sudden eye roll caught you off guard, “The whole thing is so ridiculous, it was just a party, but even thinking about going made my hands shake.”

“It’s not ridiculous. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still trying to wade through all the shit Hydra saddled you with.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “Healing takes time. And it’s not a linear process. You’re gonna have ups and downs- that’s perfectly normal.”

All he could manage was a sigh. 

“Like you said, it was just a party. Nothing major. So, who cares if you bailed? All that matters is that you made the right choice for you.”

“I guess.” He carded a hand through his hair, “I just want to be done with it all, you know? I want to be able to do things that normal people do.”

“I know. But, you have to give yourself some grace, okay?” You brushed a gentle hand over his cheek, “And you need to be patient. Cause there’s no skipping to the end with this stuff.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“So, cut yourself some slack, okay?” You nudged his shoulder with yours, “No one is more deserving of slack than you.”

“I don’t know about that-”

“If the roles were reversed,” you posited, “And I’d been through all of the trauma and abuse that you went through, would you be upset with me if I couldn’t do certain things because of my anxiety ?”

“No,” he gave a fervent shake of his head. “Never.”

“And would you want me to be kind to myself?”

Without pause, an “of course” fell from his lips.

“Okay, then you need to extend that same kindness and understanding to yourself.”

“But I just want to be able to do stuff with you,” he huffed. “I want to go to parties with you. And concerts. And-”

“Hey, all that will come with time, okay? There’s no rush.” Once again, you gave his hand a squeeze, “You’re my best friend, and I just wanna hang out with you. So, it doesn’t matter what we do. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy.”

Bucky eyed you for a second, “You mean that?”

You nodded, “I swear on my life.”

An awkward smile crossed his face, “Then I guess I should tell you that I’m not- I really don’t want to watch a scary movie.”

“Oh, shit. My bad, Buck. We can watch anything you want,” you said, “You pick.”

With a few taps of the remote, Bucky opened an entirely different streaming service and selected a safe movie free of actual scares. 

“It’s still on theme with Halloween,” he promised, “But at least it’s not gonna give me more nightmares.”

“Yeah, whatever you want, I don’t-” The opening lines of Hocus Pocus filled the room, and you delivered a playful punch to Bucky’s arm.

He let out a loud laugh, “I had to, sweetheart. You’ve still got the make up on and everything.”

You pelted him with a few M&Ms before settling close to him. He draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you tight, relishing in your warmth. He was so lucky to have you as his friend, so lucky to know you. He couldn’t believe you’d ditched the party you’d looked forward to for weeks- all for him. Couldn’t believe that you were spending your favorite holiday unceremoniously watching movies on his couch. 

But he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. After everything he’d gone through, he was just grateful that he’d befriended someone with such a kind heart. And as he settled in to experience Hocus Pocus for the first time, he started plotting how he’d make things up to you next Halloween. 

———————————————

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

[hoshifighting]

Hello, may request smut reaction from Seventeen watching their s/o(reader) wearing a sun dress??

Seventeen reaction to you using a sundress

a/n: aww so lovely, I loved this request <3

Seungcheol

 you know, Seungcheol thinks summer is the absolute best time of the year, and it’s all because of your sundresses. the moment you step out in one, he can’t help but grin like a kid on Christmas morning. It’s like the sun gets a little brighter, and his energy just skyrockets. he’ll tell you, “you know, I’m pretty sure your sundresses make summer even better!” with a playful wink that makes you blush.

Jeonghan

when you wear a sundress around Jeonghan, he just can’t stay quiet. It’s like you’ve put on some magical pheromone perfume, and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he’ll sidle up to you, whispering, “you really know how to make it impossible for me to stay away, don’t you?” and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your ear, making your heart race.

Joshua

 will spend the whole day showering you with compliments, loving how you get all shy with each one. “u look absolutely stunning in that dress,” he’ll say, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. he can’t get enough of seeing you blush, and you can’t help but smile at his sweet words.

Junhui

 when you step out of the closet in your sundress, Junhui turns as red as a tomato. he can’t stop staring, completely mesmerized by how pretty you look. “you’re so beautiful,” he manages to say, and his blush is so contagious that you find yourself giggling and blushing along with him.

Hoshi

 sees you in your sundress and immediately rushes to change his shirt. he wants to find something that matches perfectly with your outfit. “we’ve got to look good together, right?” he says with a big, goofy grin.

Wonwoo

Wonwoo wants to see every angle of your sundress. “Give me a twirl,” he says, his eyes lighting up as you spin around. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He’s not one for many words, but the way he looks at you says it all.

Woozi

 Woozi’s mind races, thinking about how he could write a song about you and that sundress – just like ruby. the way the light hits you, the soft fabric, the summer vibe—it’s all so inspiring. “you look amazing,” he says, his eyes thoughtful. “I think I’ve got an idea for a new song…”

Minghao

 Minghao appreciates every detail of your dress—the tone, the cloth, the pattern, and especially how it fits you so perfectly. “this dress was made for you,” he says, examining the way it moves. his appreciation for beauty is evident in his admiring gaze.

Mingyu

 Mingyu grabs his camera the moment he sees you. “hold still,” he says, leading you to a spot with flowers and dappled sunlight. he takes countless photos, capturing your every smile and twirl. “you’re my muse,” he says, showing you the stunning shots.

Seokmin

 Seokmin always treats you like a princess, but when you wear that sundress, he takes it up a notch. “don’t lift a finger,” he insists, carrying everything for you. his protectiveness is sweet, and he constantly checks to make sure you’re comfortable and happy.

Seungkwan

there’s something about that sundress that stirs something new in Seungkwan. “you look... incredible,” he says, his voice soft with awe. he compliments how the skirt flows and how the straps sit perfectly on your shoulders, his eyes filled with admiration.

Vernon

 Vernon doesn’t say much at first, just a quiet “wow” under his breath. But later, maybe the next day, he mentions it casually. “that dress looked really good on you yesterday,” he says, his words simple but sincere. you know he means it from the way he says it.

Chan

 Chan is so impressed by how you look in that sundress that he immediately starts searching online for more. “I’ve got to get you more of these,” he says, excited. “you look amazing.” It’s clear he’s found his new favorite look for you. 

[gladiatorcunt]

Hi! Can I request a scenario or one shot (whichever you prefer) with Anakin loving to touch/grab Y/N’s butt?

Hi, and yes you can <3

Anakin Skywalker is an ass man through and through. Before you had taken the plunge and taken your friendship to the next level, you could practically feel his eyes burning holes into your ass. No matter how far you were standing away from him, he'd always find himself devoting every ounce of his attention to what he's honestly convinced is a gift from a higher power.

You were only shocked the first time, but it was a bit silly in hindsight when you realized just how "close" Anakin liked to be with you. He drags his eyes and hands all over your body no matter your relationship, he's just a very physical person with the one he loves. (Though you don't let yourself think about in what way until it's too late.)

He immediately grabbed two big handfuls of your ass when you had your first kiss. It's like he was spending just as much time and effort groping the fat globes as he was sucking the soul out of your tongue.

Smacking your ass is how he starts his day and giving each cheek a rough but loving squeeze is how he ends it. His default sleeping/cuddling position is your leg thrown over his torso and him keeping you there with a firm hand on your ass. His grip is so tight that you can't even roll over if it starts to get uncomfortable.

Sometimes he prefers to laze around in bed and marvel at the sight of your plump flesh in the inescapable hold of his prosthetic arm. The glint of the metal bouncing off the shimmer of your skin. He'd rather lose his other arm than hurt you, but he does enjoy pinching and prodding at your ass cheeks until there are hoards of red welts and finger shaped bruises.

He'll nuzzle when he's giving you aftercare and cleaning you up, paying extra special attention to the area. You wonder if he drags it out so long just so he'd have an excuse to paw at it, but he does that regardless of the situation, time, or place.

You're embarrassed to recall the instances where in the beginning, when you were nothing more than "very good" friends, you would spend hours debating with your handmaids over which dress made your butt look better. Which one would drive him to the point of no return, and which one would coax the drool to flow from his maw like a river of milk and honey. You used to wait until you knew he was already looking (he always was) so you could coyly drop something and bend over right in his face to pick it up.

You still do it; Anakin has come to anticipate it in every waking moment. He has to smother his hungry smile under his palms, or you'll lose the nerve.

His obsession's most tender form shows itself when he returns to their chambers after a harrowing mission or a grueling meeting with the council.

The doors slide open to reveal your tired husband, his body and soul no doubt needing to be mended in your arms. So you let him envelop you with his entire being, you allow his weight to make you sink further into the bed until you're pinned. Whether he wants to rut against you or just lie on top of you for the rest of his days and past them to the death of the universe, you are ready to receive him.

He simply shimmies his way down your back today and rests his weary head on the swell of your ass. Your boy king of the stars lets his glittering cloak of unfathomable responsibilities crumble to dust over your soft jiggling skin. Ani skirts the tip of his nose along your ass crack like he's giving it a nose kiss in greeting. He flattens his tongue and drags it up and down through whatever enticing garment you're donning, getting it and you soaked in seconds flat.

"Missed you, angel."

He is not talking to you.

faetreides 2024

[solbaby7]

Life of the Party

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: typical jealousy trope, sexual themes, minors DNI, swearing, probably typos, chill boyfriend/party animal girlfriend trope

summary: A spymaster who’s restraint wears thin when his mate is invited to a costume party

—

“Oh wow,” Mor breathes out when you walk in the sitting room; heels clicking against the glossy floors as you made a bee-line for the bar cart. “Azriel’s letting you go?”

“No, which is why I’m rushing.” Your hands shake around the decanter; not with any real fear but your heartbeat does quicken at the reminder of the little white lie you’d told instead of the truth because you knew how it sounded. You, going to a party that you were invited to outside of the Night Court. “Tarquin said he’d meet me at the border.”

“A personal escort from the host himself?” Mor doesn’t bother hiding the implication in her tone and she lets out a low laugh, Amren joining in with a chuckle of her own at the way your eyes roll.

The whiskey Rhysand splurged on was warm going down and after three consecutive shots, the nerves were steadily beginning to subside. “He’s my friend.”

“Did your friend also provide you with that little outfit?”

You glance down at yourself at Armen’s slow drawl, a ruby nail pointing at your frame.

Maybe it was a little much.

The obsidian color of the fighting leather like material fits like second skin on the parts of you that they do cover. There are no sleeves, the neckline fairly tame; a deterrent to offset how much leg was on display. The see through material of the skirt flows tauntingly with each step, the two deep slits on both sides so high your hipbones showed along with the leather straps that curled around your thighs, equipped with two jeweled daggers. Two large swords crossed at your back, the hilts wrapped in blue ribbon; a small reminder of the shadowsinger. It was sexy; meant to make you appear as some warrior goddess—Azriel would never let you step foot out of the house like this. “It was a gift.”

Mor lets out a low whistle, eyes still taking in the details; the gold chains that held together some flimsy underwear that hid your modesty when the breeze cut through too hard. “He’s going to fucking kill you.”

One more shot and you swear you see a shadow lurking about in the corner. Armen smirks at your jumpiness, tucking silky hair behind a pierced ear. “Better hurry along, sounds like he just got home.”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat thumping quickly against your chest and you don’t care to let their laughter distract you when you dart from the room. You speed walk on the tips of your toes, trying to make as little noise as possible in the high heels as you prayed to the Mother above to just let you past the front door and then everything would be perfectly fine. Your hair tickles at your shoulders every time your head whips back to ensure you aren’t being followed and you finally feel the cool breeze of the night touch your skin when you bump into a large body.

The gasp that emits is comical, a little yelp, eyes wide and the relief doesn’t settle in even when you notice it’s just Cassian. “Whoa,” He mutters, bright eyes running across your frame and you pray that’s distraction enough for him to not question the way you slowly circle him, adjusting the position and finding a clear path the hell out of there the second he left. “Where are you going dressed like that?”

“Nowhere,” You breathe out, a shaky smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Have you seen Az?”

Cass smirks, taking this as you getting dressed like this for Azriel—some sexy little fantasy made reality and your shoulders immediately relax. “Went inside a couple minutes before I did. He’s probably looking for you.”

“Guess, I better hurry.” He nods, not bothering to hide the way his eyes eat at all the skin you have bared, the sultry curve of ass that peeks out the back of the skirt with each step and he barely notices you’ve gone the wrong way—leaving with a sheepish smile and a wave before you winnowed away.

It sets in when he steps inside the house, spotting Azriel turning the corner and he can’t help the words that form, even when Mor and Armen step out of the sitting room. “Az, you lucky bastard.”

The spymasters brows furrow in confusion, shadows slinking about; drifting beneath the cracks of room after room, reporting your absence back to their master. “What are you talking about?”

“That little outfit your girls got on—I’m surprised you’re even standing here right now.” Mor’s eyes widen, sharing a gaze with Armen and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Azriel’s shoulders subtly square out, spine straightening and the way golden irises darken has the otherworldly woman chuckling to herself. The pieces click without any further information and the scowl that forms on his face is positively hellish. “Did she go to that fucking party?”

Silence.

But it’s plenty answer enough.

Darkness clouds the rooms so thick it was nearly impossible to see even an inch before you and just like that it was gone and so was Azriel.

—

You let out a deep breath, nerves beginning to subside when you stand before Tarquin. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

His hand is warm when he guides your arm into his own, a large palm gentle rested over your own. “Got a bit delayed on the way over. Hope I didn’t miss anything too exciting.”

“No,” He murmurs, a smile growing in the corner of his mouth. “I believe the excitement just arrived.” Stark white hair contrasts against rich skin, Tarquin’s abdomen is exposed, the buttons of his shirt undone and left out of the waistband of his dress pants.

“Who exactly are you supposed to be?”

“I’m a High Lord, I’m not obligated to participate in such things.”

The cool breeze cuts through the thin material, all your exposed skin doing little to stave off the elements but the warmth radiating from the man beside you is enough to hold you over until you breach the main doors. Everyone was dressed in all types of extravagant outfits, some so revealing you wondered if it were a costume at all. “Glad to see that title hasn’t inflated your ego.”

“I’m sure it’ll be much more manageable after a drink or two.”

Two drinks quickly turned to five and then after a few more you’d shuck off to a corner to roll up the mirthroot Mor had generously slid your way a few weeks back. Golden light casts over the room in a sultry glow, music alluring and your hips are moving from side to side without being told. The smoke trickles from your mouth, smile growing as your worries began to fade. You could feel the eyes, the lusty gazes and Tarquin’s genuine joy from just watching.

You’re too caught up in the moment, mirthroot burning between two fingers when the shadowsinger arrives, his intent march abruptly stopped by the High Lord of the Summer Court. Cassian follows close by, Mor and Rhys a few paces behind and their steps abruptly halt when they see you. Perched up on a raised structure, your hips sway in sync with the music, hair flowing behind you and the blue ribbons attached to the swords flutter with each movement. “You,” Azriel all but hisses but Tarquin doesn’t so much as flinch. “—a terrible, horrible influence.”

“Relax," Tarquin drawls out, obviously somewhat affected by the few glasses of wine he'd indulged in. "-- look at her,” Az's hands clench in fists at his sides but the spymaster can’t help the way his eyes shift to you, to the costume and the color you donned; the smoke huffing from your nose like a dragon emerging from her cave for the night and Azriel forgets about what he was mad about in the first place. “She’s just having fun.”

More than having fun.

You were positively the life of the party, others beginning to gather around, watching the warrior of a woman dancing like no one else was there. Your head dips back and Azriel finds his eyes trained on the column of your neck, mouth closing as whatever response he’d originally intended to give the High Lord completely died on his tongue. Something in the way Tarquin remains trained on you has Azriel's shadows go on edge, sizing up the man baring so much skin; lean muscle on display and bright eyes are fixed on the way you move. "Watch this," He mutters, living vicariously through you and Azriel begins to question the true intentions behind the High Lords friendship with you. "It's her favorite part." Water begins to trickle down like fresh rain after weeks of sweltering heat and Azriel's heart actually swells when he hears the laugh you let out; hands raised above your hand to catch the cool drops.

It soaks through your clothes, the flimsy material of your skirt sticking to your thighs and Azriel is acutely aware of exactly how much skin you have on display and the plethora of males and females in the crowd beginning to recognize that same thing. Even Rhysand has a brow raised, head slowly tilting to the side when a particularly obscene about of ass flashes, gold chains holding underwear in place glistening under the flame light.

Azriel doesn't even need to trudge through the sea of sweaty bodies to get to you; eyes catching after turning to send a grateful smile to Tarquin and for a split second your whole body freezes. You recover quickly but you come down from the stand much quicker, body dripping and hair sticking to your neck. The closer you approach your mate, the more aware you become of the smell of the mirthroot stuck to your clothes, lacing your breath and Az doesn't seem swayed in the slightest by the sweet smile you offer him when you reach. "Nice party, right?"

Aureate irises drag down the length of your frame, catching on the parts of you made visible from the impromptu shower and Az can't help but be a little disappointed to see your makeup still in place. He'd always got a little frenzied when he saw you all messy; eyeshadow smeared and mascara dripping down your cheeks while he fucked off the sticky lipgloss that smelled like cherries. The evaluation pauses at the holsters wrapped around your thighs, jewels in shades of blue intricately welded together on the daggers peeking out the sodden skirt. "It would appear so," Shadows curl around your legs, avoiding the gift of a costume as if it were toxic waste. "I hope you enjoyed it because we are going home."

"But, I just got here."

"Yeah, Shadowsinger," Tarquin tacks on and Az's hand twitches to punch him; to wipe that smug grin off his face and to demand Rhys erase decades of memories the two of you had made before ever even meeting Azriel because no other male should be this comfortable with you. "She just got here and she hasn't even begun to make a dent in the bag of mirthroot Mor got her." The blonde in question huffs, eyes going a little wide but she doesn't seem too worried-- confident that whatever Az had planned for you was far worse than anything he could conjure up for her.

"Actually, he's right," You pull away from the High Lord with a warm smile, offering a hug and thanks for everything and Cassian hides the laugh that grows at the sight of Azriel's jaw clenched so tight; shadows just itching to slice off the hand that lingered a little too low in the dip of your back. "We should be getting home."

Az wastes no time tugging you to his side, nose grazing your temple when whispering in your ear. "When we get back take these clothes off but leave those on." Shadows twist at the fat of your thigh, around the holsters and the weapons they held. "Only those."

A smile grows, pupils blown and the way you glance up through thick lashes has his cock hardening in his pants. "Yes, sir."

[writingroom21]

The Nanny

Pairing: rafe x nanny reader

Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside is dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?

Warnings: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex (Practice safe sex), cream pie, mention of drugs, nipple play (If missing any please let me know)

Wc:4.6K

Chapter 4: Backseat Driving

The rest of the night was spent just chatting to the other, filling each other in on stupid things that happened in your life. You had forced him to help you clean up the kitchen after a while of laying on the couch, cheeks turning beet red once you saw the mess that was left. “Such a messy girl.” he taunts, sucking his teeth with the statement. This only made your cheeks flush redder, but he left the teasing at that. You teased him back for not knowing how to clean, embarrassment leaving you as he huffs out retorts.

Getting to know one another wasn’t as bad as it seemed before, conversation flowing as if you have known each other your whole lives. Well you did, both running into the other at parties or around the island, but this wasn’t simple courtesy. You actually wanted to get to know him, the thought frightening because only yesterday you were upset with him and he was ignoring you. But he keeps reeling you in with every question, “what's your favorite color?”, “Favorite song?”, “Favorite season?”, and so on. Each question met with your replies, “Yellow”, “Edge of Seventeen”, “Fall”, asking the same question till he told you his answers.

“Blue”, “Don’t have one”, “Summer because I get to watch you flaunt in those tiny skirts and bathing suits.” He’s half joking about the last one, his favorite season is definitely summer, getting to look at your little outfits are just a plus. That’s how the night ends, questions being shot at the other, until you both fall asleep.

In the morning you wake up facing the wall, the walls of Rafe’s room alerting you to the fact you are in the same bed that started it all. You just lay there for a moment, thoughts swirling in your brain, only snapping out of it due to the feeling of an arm on your waist. Glancing down you see the Cameron family ring on his pointer finger, you graze it lightly, pulling your hand back when his twitches.

Rafe is half asleep when he feels your fingers on him, enjoying the moment of you thinking he is still asleep. Watching you squirm, he tightens his hold on you, the hand you were playing with lightly making its way up before flattening on your chest. Your back is to his chest, sift breathing making the hairs on your neck tickle you. “Five more minutes.” He mumbles, lips pressing to your hair line. You chuckle, turning to face him. 

“We should get up. What if it’s past twelve and we are just here sleeping the day away.” You reason, mostly wanting to escape the feeling in your chest. Rafe looks so pretty, his eyes closed making his eyelashes fan his face, pouty lips slightly plump from sleeping. He peaks an eye open, smirking at you before pecking your lips. “Maybe you're right. Wouldn’t hurt to brush that morning breath away.” 

You push his shoulder embarrassed he called you out, a recurring theme it seems. “Asshole.” The words muffled with your hand covering your mouth. “Kidding, just wanted to tease you.” He brushes the hair that fell from your ponytail out of your eyes. “Come on, let's get in the shower. Got a long day ahead of us.” You miss the feeling of his body close to you as he pulls away to get up, the loss of body heat making you feel cold.

“What do you mean?” You ask resting on your elbow, watching as he walks around the room, opening drawers to take clothes out. “I gotta go see Barry, you know the guy over the other day. Just have to talk about some business but I wanted you to come with me. Maybe we could go do something after.” He’s saying it like it’s so easy, like wanting to be around you was natural for him.

“You want to hangout with me?” Your voice is low, maybe it was the shock of him suggesting a hangout without sex or it was because you're nervous. What if being with each other besides sex is awful? You could probably hate who he is as a person or worse he can realize you’re boring just to run off with the next girl. “What to good to hangout with me when I’m not fucking you?” He’s looking at you now, eyes shining as he teases you. 

“Well If the shoe fits.” You can hear him scoff, your eyes trained at the bedsheets you pick at, hiding your smile from him. “Stop being a brat and get in the shower.” “alright, alright I’m going.”

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The gravel crackles under the truck tires as Rafe pulls down the driveway to get to Barry’s house. It’s a little rundown house, a trailer sitting off to the back by the firepit. His house isn’t too far from your childhood home, yet it feels like it’s in a different part of the island. You’ve heard stories about Barry, none of them good, the house seems to reflect its owner. Another hurricane and you swear it will blow away never to be seen again.

“You okay?” Rafe’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Yeah of course I am.” You look out the window as the truck comes to a stop. Truth be told you aren’t okay. Drugs have never been a good thing in your books, you’ve seen how it’s destroyed the lives of family members. How it slowly tears away at Rafe, destroying the relationships around him. You don’t like it but you don’t like the thought of him alone here. From what you’ve witnessed Rafe doesn’t know when to quit, taking one bump of coke after the other, wasting the day away so high that he can’t recognize the people around him. It’s always scared you, not wanting him to end like the horror stories told, but what else is there to do?

Rafe get’s out, going over to your side to let you out, wrapping his arm on your shoulder once you're out. “Country club!” The voice inside the house calls out, screen door opening displaying the man it belongs to. “Ooooo, you brought me a little treat. You really shouldn’t have.” Rafe’s arm tightens around you, shielding your body from Barry’s wandering eyes. In hindsight, wearing the yellow summer dress that comes down to midthigh was not the best decision. You feel exposed.

“Watch it.” Rafe bits out. “She’s off limits, understand?” Barry just scoffs walking back into the house. “White boy comes into my home and tells me what to do. Get your ass inside before I change my mind.” You are left outside, blue eyes blocking your view as Rafe gets in front of you. “You don’t have to go in. You can stay in the car if you aren’t comfortable, I won’t take it personally.” It’s sweet that he cares, maybe it’s because you are sleeping together, but it’s still sweet.

You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers and walking to the door. “It’s okay. I want to be here.” He can’t help but smile, yanking you for a kiss. “What was that for?” Your smile is so bright, the sun illuminating the freckles in your eyes. “Nothing.” He shakes his head, pulling the two of you to get inside. If the outside was run down, the inside is just as bad. There’s a mess everywhere you look, bags of various drug liter the table in the living room, bongs on almost every surface in the room

“Want some?” The silence made you aware of the eyes on you. “Me?” you question pointing to yourself. “Yeah you. It’s a good thing she’s pretty.” Barry chuckles, plopping himself on the couch, hoping to get a glance of what’s under that dress. “My eyes are up here asshole.” You shift, pulling the skirt down to cover up, only to expose more cleavage. Sitting on the opposite couch with Rafe, you glare at the man across from you. “And she’s feisty. I like her. Do you want anything?”

“No. I’ve never done drugs and I sure as hell am not doing them with you.” You retort, their eyes staring at you like you have two heads. Fuck! Anxiety fills you, thinking you fucked up by offending him. “You’ve never done drugs?” Rafe asks, eyes scanning your face waiting for it to show your joking. “Nope. Never done them.” You shrug. It’s not like the opportunity hasn’t occurred. Mostly every party in Obx has some sort of drug, in highschool your boyfriend even smoked weed, it just never was your thing. But mainly you never felt comfortable enough with a person to let you inhibition lower, too scared of what you will say or do.

“Well I’ll be damned. Got yourself a good girl huh, country club?” Rafe tenses up besides you, ready to push himself up off this couch and bash his face in. The nickname he gave you now leaving a bad taste in his mouth, hating the fact that someone else called you it. You hand finds his thigh, halting his actions, he takes a deep breath. “Can we get this over with? Got shit to do.” Rafe tried real hard to keep his tone cool, the words still coming out bitter. “Yeah I bet you do.” Barry’s looking at you again, practically undressing you with his eyes. Rafe’s eyes narrow, his fist balling up so close to teaching Barry not even address your existence. 

“Alright, alright let’s go. Why don’t you just wait here? Wouldn’t want to taint you.” He gets up, walking off to the back of the house, a door closing separating you and Rafe from him. “Why don’t you go to the truck? I can meet you there once I'm done.” Rafes already up before finishing his sentence about to walk off, you stopping him so he can’t get too far. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” “Promise.”

With that you leave, standing outside to enjoy the weather, it was perfect. A gnawing feeling is somewhere deep down, worried of what could be happening in there. Was he getting high? No, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t put you in that danger. He was driving for god sakes, he wouldn't, right? The voices in your head are going a thousand miles per hour, throwing scenario after scenario. 

You don’t know how long you were out there, it wasn’t a long time but your mind made it feel like hours. “You alright?” Rafe’s voice is right behind you, startling you in the process. “Oh god don’t do that.” You shriek, your right hand swatting him as your left clutches your chest. “Did you get everything?” He opens the door for you, the action making you blush, he smirks when he notices. 

“Yeah, just some coke and weed to sell tomorrow night.” He gets in throwing the bags of drugs in the glove compartment. You can smell his cologne, it’s the one you got him for his birthday. “I like your cologne.” The words escape before you can stop them, shutting your eyes waiting for the teasing that's about to happen. “Thanks. Some pretty girl gave it to me, good to know it works.” He’s starting the truck and out the driveway as you think of what he just said.

There’s him calling you pretty again so effortlessly like he didn’t even need to think. “Works?” You question. “Been wearing it since I got it. Glad you finally noticed.” His eyes darted to you before going back to the road. You don’t know what to say, he’s been wearing it for months. When you first gave it to him you were nervous, you never had to give a present to someone who practically has everything.

It was one of the only things you could afford at the time, knowing he wears it seems weird to you. Why would he wear it just so you could notice? He has to be teasing you, yeah that’s it. There’s no way that everyday for almost a year he’s worn it. His birthday is in September and it's already June. He couldn’t have possibly worn it this whole time.

Rafe turns on the radio before your thoughts make you crazy, the song silencing them. The older song fills the car, filling the gaps in conversation. You roll the window down, sticking your arm out the window to feel the wind as you pass the trees lining the road. Whatever is happening between you is confusing. There are moments when you feel like there is something more, that there's this thin layer separating you from falling. Every stolen kiss, touch, words, chipping away from the layer ready to pull you under. Rafe keeps glancing at you, wanting to say something but nothing comes to mind

“Try to stop my hands from shakin’. ‘Cause somethin’ in my mind’s not making sense.”

Rafe listens to the song, lyrics infiltrating his mind.

“It’s been awhile since we were all alone. I can’t hide the way I’m feelin’. As you’re leaving, please, would you close the door? And don’t forget what I told ya.”

He’s staring now, barely looking at the road, just enough to make sure he doesn’t crash the truck. You are humming along to the song, lost in your own thoughts, trying to enjoy this moment worried it would be ripped away. He can’t stop himself from placing his hand on your thigh, right below the hem of the sundress. His fingers digging into your skin to give you a little squeeze, getting you to look at him.

“Just ‘cause you’re right, that doesn't mean I’m wrong. Another shoulder to cry upon.”

Rafe can’t take it anymore, the sun lighting your hair is giving you a halo. It makes you look like an angel. You were an angel, his angel. He’s not in control anymore, his emotions are running high and he doesn’t know how to handle it. This whole thing is new to him. Rafe has never had someone in his life to feel this strongly about. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as he goes to pull over to the side of the road. “Rafe, what are you doing?” A laugh follows your question. “You just look so fucking beautiful right now. I need to kiss you.”

“I just wanna use your love tonight, yeah. I don’t wanna lose your love tonight. Yeah, I just wanna use your love tonight.”

Putting the car in park, his seatbelt flies off of him as he leans over the center console. The radio fading into the background. His left hand grabs your face to pull you into a kiss, his right hand unbuckling you from your seat. You didn’t even need to think about it, you kissed him back deeper, throwing your arms around his neck. The two of you sit there for a few minutes, just kissing each other breaking apart only to get a quick breath of air before diving back in. Neither of you really want to stop, too caught up in the feeling of each other. Ever since you both opened up to each other, even just a smidge, it brought you closer together. Tying a piece of you to the other. Pulling away you open your eyes to notice he still had his closed and a goofy lopsided smile. It was small but you still saw it. “Let’s get in the backseat.” 

“Oh yeah? What’re you going to do?” Rafe questions, his right eyebrow raising. “Hurry up before I change my mind.” You challenge. “Yes ma’am.” He retorts, a quick kiss being shared before you climb into the backseat. Rafe gets out of the car, opening the backdoor to join you. “Really out in the open? Should have known you liked having people watch you considering you like watching.” As he tries to get settled in the back, the memory of what started this floods you. Not trying to overthink it, you throw your leg over his lap, your hands resting on the backseats. “Maybe I just don’t mind it when it’s you I’m doing with.” You shrug it off by kissing him.

It took his brain a minute to catch up before he deepened the kiss, focusing on the little confession for a second too long. Rafe’s hands are rubbing up your thigh, pinching the skin just to smooth it over once again. His right hand creeps higher up your thigh as you grind down on him, going underneath the dress and stopping. Rafe breaks the kiss pulling his head back, his fingers twitching. “Are you not wearing any underwear?” You blush at being called out, but you're too turned on to even feel embarrassed so you grind down harder.

“Thought they would just get in the way.” You go to lean in again but his other hand stops you. “You’re telling me that you were sitting at Barry’s with no panties on? God what did I do to deserve such a dirty girl.” This time it’s him going in for a kiss, cupping your neck and hip as your hips pick up their movement. You can feel him through his jeans, his hard dick rubbing against your clit perfectly, but you felt empty. You wanted to feel him stretch you to your limits again, addicted to the pain of having him open you up.

Your hands skim down his chest, landing on his toned stomach as you tease the button of his jeans. “How much do you want me?” You ask, your lips leaving a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck, sucking on it till you leave a little bruise and lick it. “So fucking much Sunny. You have no idea.” He moans out, the hand under your dress finds your clit, rubbing small tight circles. It’s not long before you are ripping his jeans off him, he lifts his hips allowing you to pull them down, the boxers he wears go along with them. 

“Why don’t you be a good girl and ride me. Huh baby? Show me who makes you feel good.” Oh god, if he kept talking like that you could probably cum just from his voice. The raspy low voice was like music to your ears, you could listen to it for hours on end. Your soft hand wraps around him, giving a little tug, lifting you up and lining him up to your entrance. Rafe closes his eyes ready to feel your tight walls squeeze him to an inch of death but nothing happens. 

He peeps an eye to look at you and you're just there looking down at him with a light smile. “Come o-oh fuck.” His sentence interrupted by you sinking down on him, you moan at the stretch. When you bottom out he grips your hips keeping you in place, giving you time to adjust to his size. Considering he did prep you with his fingers, he doesn’t want to hurt you. Your soft whimpers fill the car as you move slightly, the motion causing him to brush against your g-spot and you clit against the patch of his hair. 

“You feel so good baby. So fucking big.” You whine into his ear, burying your head in his neck, the feeling of him too much. The words rush straight to his dick making it twitch, his hips rutting,arms going around your body to hold you. You moan at the feeling, your hips start to move on their own accord, grinding until you gain the confidence to raise your hips. 

You lean back making eye contact as you raise your hips before slamming them back down on him. His eyes roll to the back of his head, his mouth dropping into an “O” shape. You keep bouncing, your nails scratching his chest to ground you to something. In this position he feels deeper, it’s a little bit painful but it felt like heaven. Rafe’s hands dig into your hips helping to lift you up and bring you down.

The two of you stay like that, you bouncing on him, his dick rubbing your g-spot in the greatest way. One of the hands on your hips slowly travels to your clit adding to the stimulation you were already feeling. “Oh fuck baby. So perfect, my perfect little girl.” You just moan at him, leaning back between the front seats. Your hands find the middle counsel to keep you upright, giving you extra leverage to keep bouncing.

His other hand glides up your stomach, giving your left tit a squeeze before pinching your nipple. “That feel good?” He comments after hearing your moan increase in pitch. “Yes.” you breath out, you're so close to cumming, tingles spreading from you abdomen throughout your body. Rafe leans closer to you, his mouth wrapping around the nipple he isn’t playing with. The suction of his mouth felt amazing, his teeth grazing your pebbled nipple. The fluttering of your walls alert Rafe that you are about to cum.

“Cum for me Sunny.” Just like that you were cumming, your hand grasping his shoulder due to the intensity. Your nails leave red marks all over his shoulder and collar as you claw at him, getting over stimulated as he keeps you bouncing. He wraps an arm around you to stabilize you out, the orgasim taking the energy out of you. Your limb in his arms, barely noticing him moving you both back so he’s resting on the seat and you're on his chest.

“It’s okay baby, I got you.” Rafe whispers in your ear. He’s thrusting up into you now, chasing his own pleasure. “Harder.” You moan out wanting him to ruin you. He picks up his pace, pulling you down as he thrusts up, filling you up deliciously. You can feel him throbbing, his hips starting to lose their rhythm. You lift your arm resting it on the seat behind his head, your hand scratching the back of his head. 

His hand finds you clit again, wanting to feel you cum around his dick one more time. “You got one more in you right? I know you can give me one more.” You nod, your senses coming back to you, your hips meeting his to give him what he wants. It wasn’t long before you were cumming again, shaking in his arms feeling his cum fill you up as your orgasim triggers his. You just rock back and forth trying to get the feeling to last longer. After a few rocks, Rafe stopped you, hissing at the stimulation.

Pulling you off of him, he places you in the seat next to him to get some extra napkins to clean you up. “Why don’t we go get some food and then go home.” He suggested throwing the napkins on the floor of the truck. Home. Hearing him call Tannyhill home as if you belong there, not just as a nanny, but actually belong there makes you happy. It’s probably foolish to get happy or excited knowing this will fade soon. But you can’t help but want that.

You want Tanny to be your home, the thought scares you but it’s the truth. Being there has made you the happiest you’ve been in a really long time. “Yeah. Think we can get burgers? Been craving them for the last week.” He fixes your dress pulling you both out the car and into the front. “We can get whatever you want.”

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“Hey you go in and get our order. I need to run to the store real quick.” Rafe is parked outside the restaurant. You had placed the order on the way over but there was still at least ten minutes before it would be ready. “Yeah I can. Grab me some chocolate.” You tell him as you get out. Walking into the restaurant you can tell how busy they are, the tables are full and there's a line of people waiting for a table. “How can I help you?” The hostess asked. “I have an order.” You tell her your name, waiting to the side as she said it would still be a while.

You pull out your phone and answer some texts from your friends. You notice the message chain with your mom. You wanted to reach out to them, say you are sorry and give them the money, but rafe words creep into your brain. You are finally living your life the way that you want to live it, not how they want you to live. Finally breaking the tension with Rafe seemed to be a blessing in disguise.

The hostess calling your name snaps you out of the thought of your parents. You grab the order walking out the building ready to call Rafe when you see the truck pulling up. The window is rolled down and you can see him leaning on the counsel to look at you standing there. “Got an uber for Sunny, have you seen her? She’s pretty short, beautiful, sassy beyond belief.” You roll our eyes while opening the door and getting in. 

You place the food down between your feet and buckle up. “Haha, so funny. Everyone looks short when they are standing next to you, giraffe.” The name made him chuckle, his hand pushing your hair back and playing with the strands. “As long as you like giraffe’s I’m okay with being yours.” You stare at him, bewildered at what he just said.

He’s okay with being yours? After the past few days your feelings have been confusing. You have always found him attractive but didn’t want to risk your job or Wheezie. It’s been harder to not let those feelings come out when you are around him. You grab his hand and bring it to your lips, giving it a light kiss. You intertwine your hands and bring them to your lap, brushing your thumb along his hands. “I love them.” You smile.

The words have a deeper meaning than what you both want to admit. Your smiling contagious as one starts to form on his face. “Good.” His eyes are intense, willing you to confess something more, just a little more to give him the courage to do the same. No words are said, Rafe diverts his eyes from you, swallowing the lump in his throat. The words that threatened to spill, dying and being locked away once again. 

He doesn’t know when the crushing weight in his chest began to form. The uncomfortable feeling in his throat caused him to clear it. Rafe shouldn’t think too much about it, he knows this is just for fun. But when he looks at you he knows that he’s lying to himself, he doesn’t even want to think about stopping what you have. It doesn’t matter what he wants, he will never be good enough for you, he’ll just have to settle for what you will give him. “Let’s get home. We can eat and watch that movie you were talking about the other week.”

He remembered the movie, you thought. He also has been wearing the birthday cologne you got him. He couldn’t be more perfect, you wish these were different circumstances. That you weren’t just some girl that worked for his family and he was just the son of your boss. You wish that at this moment you were more, someone who was worth more, someone who could actually be his. Maybe for just a moment you can actually believe that you deserve him. “Yeah that sounds good. Let’s go home.”

[lustfulslxt]

Party Revelations - Matt Sturniolo

summary : basically oc and matt have sexual tension that they act on at a party

warnings : sexxxx

a/n : this is just one of my oneshots from my ao3 acc, enjoy 😘

—

vivian stood in front of her mirror, glancing at her outfit to make sure she looks good for tonight.

her and her best friends; madi, nick, matt, and chris were going to their other friend's party. chris and madi have been wanting to go out and have fun, but wanting the rest of them to join as well. so that's what they're doing tonight, going to a party.

as she stared at her reflection, a proud smirk pulled to her lips. she looked good. she had a mini black skirt with fishnets underneath, a fitted off the shoulder black mesh top with a tiny bralette underneath, and black docs laced on her feet. her hair was curled perfectly and she had a dark smokey eye going on.

"v, you ready?" madi calls out, opening the door to her friend's room.

"yup." vivian replied and grabbed her phone, following madi out.

the two girls made their way out to the mini van and squeezed in the back with nick, matt being behind the wheel and chris riding shotgun. they all greeted one another before matt started driving towards the party.

throughout the whole drive, matt and vivian kept stealing glances at one another. he kept finding his eyes watching her through the rear view mirror, loving everything about the way she looked right now. he couldn't help but stare at her lips, oh how badly he wanted them wrapped around him, taking all of him at once. and her body, the way she moved and how she looked in her skimpy clothing. he wanted nothing more than to take her on the hood of his van right then and there.

vivian was in the same boat. matt looked so incredibly breathtaking to her, it was making her hot. he was wearing his black ransom zip up hoodie, black sweatpants, and his white forces. it was a simple outfit that was similar to what he wore everyday, but it still made vivian's insides tighten. the way his hair fell over his forehead, looking so extremely pullable. she wanted nothing more than to become one with him.

the five friends had been at the party for around half an hour now, the majority having split up. madi and nick were drinking together, goofing off in their own little bubble. chris had met up with some of his other friends, smoking with them outside. vivian had already had quite a few shots, and was now dancing by herself as she felt the alcohol flow through her veins. matt was simply standing against the wall with a drink in his hand, watching her.

matt loved the way her body moved, the way she sexily swayed to the music. the way her hands found themselves moving up and down her body and tangling in her hair. she was in her own little world and all matt wanted to do was take her home and fuck her senseless.

see, sure they were friends, but it was different than all of their other friendships. there was deep sexual tension that neither of them acted on in fear of ruining their good relationship. however, the way she looked right now had matt wanting to risk it all.

the song that vivian was originally dancing to had ended, causing her to pause for a moment and observe her surroundings. that's when she noticed matt leaning against the wall with his eyes on her and only her. his intense gaze had her damn near clenching her thighs together to get some sort of friction where she wanted him most.

as a new beat started, vivian bit her bottom lip to prevent her smile from plastering over her face. the song was 'all the time - jeremiah' and it was only setting the mood even more, so she beckoned him over with her finger. he downed the rest of his cup before setting it on the table next to him and walking in her direction.

"dance with me, matty." she spoke in a sultry voice, wrapping her arms around his neck.

he didn't say a word, but pulled her hands from around him and stepped behind her instead. his hands met around her waist, softly running up and down her sides as she swayed to the beat. she placed one of her hands on his and the other went around to the back of his neck again. she continued moving to the music, grinding her hips against his. he pulled her even closer to him, her body flushing against his.

within seconds, his dick stiffened a bit, enjoying the movement of her ass pressed against it. she, too, enjoyed the feeling of it, causing her breath to slightly hitch. matt had leaned his head down, placing his face in the crook of her neck and deeply inhaling her scent. the warmth of his breath arose goosebumps across her skin, it now feeling like it's on fire beneath his touch. the moment he placed a soft open mouth kiss on her neck, she knew she was done for. the feeling of his wet lips on her made her let out a soft whimper, which caused matt's head to snap to her face. that sound went right through him and he knew right then, he needed to hear it again. over and over and over.

"let's go." his voice spoke, husky and rasp.

he didn't even wait for a response, just interlocked their hands and made his way to the stairs. she eagerly followed, not exactly sure of what was happening but still had somewhat of an idea. and that idea made her panties soaked.

matt had walked her all the way down to the end of the hall, entering the bedroom that's off limits to anyone other than their friend group. he pulled her in and locked the door behind them. the two just stared at one another in silence. vivian's big doe eyes gazed up at his and he just wanted to fuck her until they were rolling back into her head.

"you look good tonight." he spoke, his voice still low and slightly hoarse, as he looked her up and down.

"thank you." she smiled, doing the same to him, "you too."

he slowly walked over to her and placed his hands on her waist, pulling her chest against his. their eye contact remained unfazed and stayed connected, making the bulge in his pants grow even more. the two were so close, they could feel each other's breath fanning one another's skin. vivian's eyes flickered from his to his lips and back quickly, but he noticed.

matt swiftly grabbed her jaw and pulled her into him, crashing his lips down onto hers. they moulded together so perfectly, both wanting this moment to last forever. after a moment of their lips working together, he pulled back to look into her eyes again, trying to see if there was any hesitation or reluctance, to which he found none, so he continued.

once again, their lips met in a heated passion. vivian's hands traveled up matt's chest and one set on the back of his neck while the other grabbed a fistful of his hair. upon giving it a light tug, a low groan escaped matt's lips and it made her stomach twist in need. he was so pretty to her and the sound that just came from his mouth almost had her cumming already.

matt's tongue flicked across her bottom lip, begging for entrance, which she granted. their kisses were rushed and wet and hot, tongues gliding over one another with ease. his hands traveled down her body once more, gripping onto her ass and squeezing tightly, causing her to moan against his lips. it drove him crazy.

he briefly pulled away from her and ordered, "take your shoes off."

once both of them had removed their shoes, their lips reconnected. matt's hands went down to her thighs, swiftly pulling her up and walking her to the bed. he laid her down and crawled on top of her, his legs slightly straddling her thighs as his crotch rubbed against hers.

he broke their kiss and turned her head, and began leaving sloppy wet kisses up and down her neck, biting down here and there. both of their breathing's were heavy, lips swollen and red, glistening with each other's saliva.

"fuck, you look so good tonight, vivi." he groaned against her skin, grinding his hips against hers, a soft moan coming from both of them.

her hands immediately reached down to his sweatpants, her fingers tugging at the string the tightened them. once the tie was undone, her fingers looped behind the elastic, but his hand stopped her for just a moment.

"are we really doing this?" matt asks her, wanting nothing more than for them to finally give in to their strongest desires, but also needing to make sure this was exactly what she wanted as well.

vivian frantically nodded, "please. i want you so bad, matty.”

matt was rock hard at this point and her response caused his dick to twitch, begging for her. the two pulled apart once again, both of them removing their tops, before connecting again. their kiss was heated, both of their tongues exploring each other's mouths.

when she tugged on his hair again, he pulled away and began leaving wet kisses down her neck and to her torso. his hands roamed her body, before landing on her boobs. he took turns with them, squeezing and tweaking one nipple while his mouth was sucking and nibbling on the other. vivian was letting out soft moans that only encouraged matt even more. she was loving every bit of the way he touched her, and he was loving every bit of the way she felt from his touch.

"take these off." vivian spoke in a low tone, pulling at his pants once again.

he swatted her hand away and pinned them to her side, "ah, ah. we're doing things my way, pretty girl."

her hips bucked into his, her softly whining, wanting to just feel him already. he grinned at her reaction and kissed down her stomach, sucking at the skin on the way down. he parted from her and pulled her skirt down, tossing it to the side. his hand reached up and met her heat, rubbing her core through her panties and stockings. he could feel how wet she was through the clothing and it turned him on so much. she bucked her hips at him again, wanting to feel more.

"fuck, you're already soaking wet." he licked his lips, tossing his head back. "take these off, baby."

she hurriedly removed the rest of her clothes, as he did the same to himself, leaving them both naked. vivian was in awe of him. he looked so hot and the way his fully erect dick hit his stomach, once free from its restriction, made her want to take him down her throat. matt peered over at her body, his mouth watering at the sight. she was truly beautiful. he smiled at her and lent down, connecting their lips for a few soft kisses.

he then made his way down, lowering himself in between her legs. he was dragging his lips over her inner thighs and it was making her go crazy. he was teasing her and it was working.

"matt." she choked out, breathless from what he was doing to her. "p-please."

"please what, baby?" he smirked at her, licking all around her, except for where she needed him most.

"i want your face buried in my pussy." she admits, her face heating up at her own confession.

"as you wish."

with that, he began devouring her. his tongue was lapping her folds, sucking onto every piece of her. she was a moaning mess, her hands gripping his hair as she pushed them closer together. matt was in heaven. the way she sounded and tasted, he was close to cumming without her even touching him.

"you taste so good." he moaned against her pussy, sending vibrations through her body that left her trembling.

matt's finger found his way up, softly slicking between her folds while he sucked her clit. without warning, he shoved it into her hole, causing her body to slightly jerk as a loud moan escaped her lips. he kept pumping his finger in and out before adding another. with that, and his mouth doing wonders, vivian knew she was close.

"oh my- fuck." she moaned out, tugging on his hair. "i'm so close, matty."

he picked the pace up with his hand, inserting another finger as his thumb came into contact with her clit. he rubbed it back and forth, while his eyes watched her face. her eyebrows were furrowed with her eyes closed, and her bottom lip was between her teeth, attempting and failing to control her moans. upon feeling him stare, she looked down at him and both were starstruck. matt's face was glistening with her juices, his eyes holding so much lust and adoration in them. vivian's eyes were heavy and her face looked so fucked out.

"cum for me, baby." he orders, placing his mouth back into her, flattening his tongue against her pussy.

and just like that, her legs were shaking and she was releasing into his mouth with a loud pornographic moan. he sucked up every drop of her arousal, loving the way she tasted. then, he hovered back over her and shoved his fingers in her mouth for her to taste. she licked all over them and sucked hard, causing his dick to twitch. after removing his fingers from her mouth, he gripped her jaw and slammed his lips on hers. they shared an open wet kiss, tongues sliding all over as they both tasted her.

vivian reached her hand down, finally meeting his dick for the first time. he was rock hard, and emitting crazy heat. matt tossed his head back at the feeling of her hand on his shaft, inhaling sharply.

"i want you to fuck me so bad." she bit her lip and tightened her hand around him, pumping a few times before he abruptly flipped her over.

"face down, ass up."

she immediately complies, eager to be fucked like there's no tomorrow. her ass was in the air and her face buried into the bed, and matt sat there for a moment, taking in the view. he could see her pussy dripping, in need of his dick.

"you want me to fuck you like a little slut, huh?" he asks, his hands kneading her cheeks, his thumb running over her folds.

he placed his dick against her pussy, sliding it around, soaking it in her juices. once he rubbed it against her clit, she moaned and pushed her ass closer to him, but he stopped her. suddenly his hand came across her ass in a fast a hard motion, a loud smack sounding throughout the room.

she let out a whimper and he said, "i asked you a question.”

"please." she begged, "i just want you to make me your slut."

with that, he shoved his dick inside her without warning. she gasped loudly, not expecting all of him right away. he gripped her waist and began thrusting in and out of her. her shock immediately vanished and was replaced with pleasure.

"mm. you feel s-so good inside me." she moans in between each thrust.

"yeah, i bet you love the way i fuck you. i want you to cum all over my dick."

matt was fucking her fast and hard, her hands were clinging to the sheets beneath them. matt's breathing was heavy, he was doing everything in his power not to cum because she felt so good around him. as if he lost all control, he grabbed both of her arms and pulled them back, holding them together behind her, then started pounding even harder. she felt so full from him, she started bouncing her ass onto him, meeting him halfway, causing him to let out a string of moans and cuss words.

her entire body was shaking, the sound of skin slapping filled the air as she cried out. he was making her feel so good. he then reached below her, his fingers meeting her clit, and rubbing in a fast motion.

"OH FUCK!" she practically screamed, she was going crazy.

nobody has ever made her feel this way, and she wanted it forever. and so did matt. he was enjoying every single thing about it.

"i-i'm about to cum." she moans out.

matt groaned in return, "me too, baby. cum with me."

a second later, the room filled with loud high pitched moans. vivian's legs shook as she climaxed, her cum dripping down matt's dick. his hot load shot inside her, mixing both of their juices as he kept fucking her to ride out their high together.

vivian fell forward, matt collapsing on top of her. they were both trying to catch their breath, having just had the best orgasm of their lives. he pulled out and fell onto his back, laying right beside her. the two looked over at each other with goofy grins on their faces. she leaned into him, planting her lips on his, creating a passionate kiss between the two.

"i hope you know you belong to me now." matt tells her once they pull apart.

"that sounds like heaven." she smiled at him, "all i ever wanted was to be yours."

—

a/n : should i post the rest? i have another matt one and 2 chris, lmkkk. back to working on requests, feel free to send in more 🩵

[aemondsquill]

In Honor's Name

Aemond Targaryen × Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your new husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen, is truly an enigma. While he is cold and dismissive, he also proves to be quite the formidable protector of his lady wife

A/N: reader is from an unspecified House and has no physical descriptions

Warnings: Aemond's rizz is atrocious, violence, toxic relationship, hurt/comfort, Aemond IS a WIFE GUY, slight angst, floooof, implications of smut

Aemond Targaryen was not known for wearing his heart on his sleeve; actually it was quite the contrary, much to the dismay of his brand new wife. Attempting any form of conversation with the man was like yanking nails. He only gave one word answers or hum in response.

However, while he was not gifted in the arts of wooing his wife with his words, Y/N appreciated just how physically attentive he was. A gentle hand on her lower back when he guided her through the halls of the Keep, his fingers resting on her knee during long dinners, or his presence looming over her shoulder at banquets and feasts. These touches were the only indication that he even tolerated her.

----

Y/N was in no mood for the festivities laid out before her. Aegon decided to throw another feast for whichever unknown Lord's nameday or birth of an heir or perhaps he was just bored. Aemond, as always, was seated next to her. If he had not helped Y/N into her own seat, she would not even had known that he was there. The silence between them seemed to be even more stifling than the obnoxious noises of merriment that echoed through the great hall.

Y/N glared at the couples dancing, envious that they seemed to be enjoying themselves. She learned the hard way that Aemond does not dance. A sharp 'no' from his lips when she invited him to dance on their wedding day was enough to discourage her from ever asking again.

'How lucky am I to be married to such a bland brooding man?' She thought scornfully. He was confusing with his gentle touches, but harsh words and Y/N was done trying to figure him out. She would only do her duty: be a loyal wife and produce an heir or two. It wasn't much of a life, but there were worse ways to live.

Y/N reached for her cup, full of a dark Dornish red, and drank it greedily. The wine was delightfully bitter on her tongue.

Soon enough, a buzz flowed through her veins like warmed honey and made her brain slightly heavy. Y/N's spirits were lifted as the music swelled and the laughter all around her felt contagious.

With a new surge of confidence, Y/N turned to her ever-stoic husband. He eyed her curiously at her sudden movement.

"I supposed I shan't ask you for a dance, Lord husband, allow me to take my leave so I may find a willing partner." Without waiting for a response, Y/N shot out of her seat and grasped her velvety skirts and stalked towards Tyland Lannister.

Aemond's mouth gaped, slightly resembling a fish plucked out of the water. He could only watch helplessly as his wife, giggling and eyes shining, began an elegant waltz with the Lannister.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped his fork tightly, jealousy boiling in his chest at the site of Tyland gripping his wife's waist and twirling her about.

Perhaps Aemond deserved to watch his wife fall for another. He knew he had not been a doting husband, but at least he wasn't cruel. He just felt uncomfortable expressing his affection for his Y/N!

Aemond would not accept the consequences of his own actions. She was his and everyone in the Keep would know it, especially that slimy cunt Tyland.

His anger was only spurred on when he watched the Lannister grip Y/N's arm tightly and whisper a salacious secret into her ear. Her face contorted in offense, causing Aemond to nearly leap over the table in front of him.

In a split second, Aemond was nose to nose with blond Lannister.

"I will fucking tear your eyes out of your head and force them down your throat if you so much as glance at my wife again." Even Y/N felt the chill of fear tingle her spine at Aemond's threat. Tyland only smirked at the brutal confrontation. Copious amounts of wine and ale only made Tyland more bold. And foolish.

Aemond placed his hand on the small of her back, more forcefully than usual.

"Come, wife, allow me to escort you to your chambers."

"Perhaps if you weren't such a frigid cunt maybe your wife wouldn't seek company elsewhere. Leave her to me and trust she will be taken care of."

Y/N felt the surge of humiliation warm her cheeks at Tyland's horrific words. The anger rolled off Aemond's shoulders in heavy waves as Tyland tugged Y/N back into his chest and continued his vicious tirade.

"Unhand my wife and I shall reward you with a swift death."

"I heard your wife has the sweetest cunt in Westeros", his nose grazed along her neck, inhaling her scent. "I wish to taste her."

A vile glint flashed across Aemond's violet eye and in an instant he yanked Y/N out of Tyland's arms, tossing her carelessly as he pursued the Lannister further.

Y/N yelped as she stumbled to the stony floor. She could only watch in horror as her husband's hands wrapped around Tyland's throat so hard that the veins bulged.

"I am the only one who will taste my wife's cunt."

Tyland's face turned red, then blue, then an ugly shade of purple as Aemond's hands slowly squeezed the life out of him. Tyland feebly attempted to grip Aemond's arms, chest, anything he could get his hands on as he crumpled to the floor.

"She tastes of the sweetest honey. She will only bear my heirs. She is mine and only mine." Y/N couldn't help the feeling of her cheeks flush at Aemond's obscene flattery.

Aemond did not let up his assault. Instead, the bulging of Lord Lannister's eyes seemed to egg him on to press harder and harder.

Y/N shouted for the nearby guards to stop her husband from killing his House's ally.

It took nearly four men to wretch Aemond away from the scoundrel. Once he stood he shrugged off their hands and immediately stalked towards Y/N. Her eyes widened in fear as she stumbled backwards slightly. Her flinch halted Aemond in his tracks briefly, a pang rattled his chest painfully. His little display of violence and jealousy only scared his beloved wife.

Aemond took a couple more steps, this time with caution so as not to frighten her more before placing his hand on her back.

"Let us retire, little wife." And she allowed him to guide her back to her chambers in silence.

The winding corridors allowed her to replay the scene over and over in her head. Never had she seen Aemond react to anything in such a way. Nor had he spoken this many words to her in the few months they had been married.

They reached the large oak doors of Y/N's chambers and Aemond ushered her inside.

"You should not have done that. You could have killed him."

Aemond regarded her coldly, "I wish I did. I wish everyone in that hall witnessed me killing him." Y/N rolled her eyes at his stubbornness. Aemond approached her and reached for her hand, but she pulled away before speaking sternly at him.

"No. You do not get to touch me after embarrassing your House like that and nearly killing a man!"

"I was defending your honor! Tis my duty as your husband!" He snarled. He reached out and grabbed at her again, this time pulling her into his chest and she squirmed against him.

"Stop resisting me. I wish to hold my wife and I shall do so!"

Never had Aemond been so vocal and obvious about his affection towards her. It threw Y/N into a whirlwind of emotion.

Finally, she stopped fighting against him and met his glare with her own. The two breathed heavily against each other, neither used to such intimate proximity outside of fucking.

"I have been damned by the gods to love you."

Y/N scoffed. "I never knew you could be so romantic. First you nearly kill a man, now you're saying you hate loving me."

Aemond closed his eye and sighed, mentally kicking himself for his fumbled words. His arm tightend around her waist. Y/N was annoyed at the warmth that flooded her chest at the feeling.

"I love you, little wife. So much so, my words seemed to escape me, but it's true. In the short time we've been married I have fallen deeper than I can possibly fathom. It frightens me. Seeing Tyland Lannister put his hands on you drove me to the brink of madness. I would kill a thousand men and their widows if you asked me to."

Y/N's eyes softened at his clumsy declaration. In his own strange and murderous way, he held a great affection for her and Y/N's heart melted at the thought.

She brushed a lock of hair out of his eye, sighing.

"You know you cannot kill every man who speaks to me."

"I know, but I can kill most of them." She chuckled at his attempt at a jest.

Aemond found himself not able to resist any longer. He kissed her soft supple lips with fervor. Y/N moaned softly in delight.

"I have to make good on a promise I made to that Lannister cunt, little wife."

[simp2537]

heyyy I love ur writing and I was wondering if you could write femreader x darkling . Their already in an established relationship and haven’t seen eachother in a while bc alina keeps taking kirgans time with her training keeping him away from femreader . It’s gotten so bad they are driven crazy from the sexual frustration (emphasise on kirigans frustration ) can u please include dry humping and them getting walked in on later .

thank youuuu

Tension

a/n : Love all Aleksander requests, but I’m still new at smut so sorry if this isn’t the greatest. Hinting at some Zoya x reader but it’s just used to make to make Aleksander jealous. I’m also using my Tidemaker! Reader for this from my other oneshot, link below . It’s kinda a series but no real cohesive storyline yet.

Touch her and die

Warnings: dry humping, getting caught, soft dom! Aleksander, praise kink, degradation kink, bratty reader, jealousy, Alina hate

Aleksander Morozova x fem! Reader

Y/n wiped the sweat from her brow with a huff. Zoya laid on the ground before her panting and out of breath. She offered her hand to her friends and with her help Zoya pulled herself to her feet. Slowly Y/n began to look around for her lover, Aleksander but he was nowhere to be seen. Zoya smiled softly as she pat her friends back.

“He’s not here! Why isn’t he here!” Zoya sighed softly at her friends. Since the arrival of Alina Starkov, the general hadn’t had much time for her. Aleksander was meant to go riding with Y/n on this loving morning before the party later but Alina asked for his help.

“I haven’t spent anytime with him since she got here.” Y/n bitterly mumbled. Zoya rubbed her back, sore from being thrown in the ground moments before.

“Want help making him jealous?” Y/n raised a brow with a smirk. The pair slowly made their way into the little palace. Aleksander walked down the hallway catching Y/n’s eyes. Before he could reach her Alina and Genya appeared. Alina quickly taking his attention from Y/n, him sends her a sorrowful look.

Y/n bit her lip and shot the pair a nasty glare. She turned to Zoya a dangerous smile in her face. She slipped her arm in Zoya’s pulling her close to her body.

“Let’s go get ready.”

Y/n sipped her wine with a smirk, her arm lazily dropped over Zoya’s waist. The pair had matched their clothes for the nights party to each others. Zoya wore a teal dress with a skirt that flowed like the wind, while Y/n’s dress was a darker blue that fell like a raging waterfall.

Aleksander’s gaze was darkened in the pair as they laughed at whatever Fedyor had said. Alina had been at his side the entire night, unsure of what to do. Aleksander eyes rested on Y/n’s form as she spoke with some random noble man.

He watched as she lead towards Zoya, whispering softly in her ear. Never would he doubt his Tidemakers faith to him but the way her arm was around Zoya waist caused his blood to boil. He could see her bratty smirk, he watched as she slowly pull Zoya away towards the dance floor.

New music began to play, fast and sensual music. Y/n and Zoya slowly began to dance together, Aleksander swore Y/n was trying to kill him. Her hips swayed and her hands were firmly on Zoya’s curves.

That little mix- Aleksander thought as he made eyes contact with Y/n. She continued to dance to the music, her body moving in an erotic fashion. His first tightened around his glass as Ivan and Fedyor laughed softly at the pair.

Y/n continued to lead Zoya as the pair danced, the music only adding to Aleksander’s frustration. With each beat of the music Zoya moved her body against Y/n with a smirk. Y/n closed her eyes with a knowing look on her face.

As she moved she heard him, his boots against the dance floor. She felt Zoya move away and his firm hands on her moving hips. Her back was pulled against his chest and she opened her eyes.

“General.” Y/n greeted. Aleksander didn’t answer her, his face was tight. His dark irises pierced into her e/c one. He pulled her away rather quickly without any care for who could see.

As Aleksander pulled her, Y/n shot a look to Zoya. Zoya smirk and watched with sharp eyes as the pair disappeared.

……………

The door to Aleksander’s study slammed shut as he all but pushed Y/n inside. She could help but giggle as she leaned against his desk. His eyes were consumed with lust and desire.

“Do you find this amusing?” He towered her framed. The need in his eyes was enough to make her laugh.

“I must admit it does.” His hands slammed on both sides of her as he pushed her legs apart. He stood in between them, his bugle against his clothes heat.

“You have no idea how badly you’ve hurt me these past weeks. You’ve been pulled away from me at every chance that stupid girl has. You’ve left me alone for weeks and-

Before Y/n could continue her rant Aleksander was pulling her into a passionate kiss. His hands clutched at her face pulling her closer. His tongue invaded her mouth and she let him take over. When they finally pulled away Y/n gasped for air.

“My poor sweet tidemaker, I’ve left you alone too long have I?” The condescension was not lost on her but her cunt throbbed too much for her to care.

“I’m sorry milaya, let me take care of you.” His words went right to her core as he lifted her into his thigh. He pushed her dress away directing her core to run against his thigh. She whined softly as she dragged her hips long him thigh.

The sleek of her panties clung to her as she moaned softly. Aleksander’s lips trailed down her neck, kissing and sucking on all the exposed skin. His hands slowly trailed to her waist gripping at her flesh.

Her moans echoed through the hall as his plush lips sucked under her chin. Y/n’s hands clutched onto his kefta as he used his own hands to help her rub on his thigh.

“Such pretty noises you make.” His nose nudged against hers as he kissed her. “Are you close.”

She nodded her head as he pulled down the top of her dress. He sucked upon her exposed breast, dragging his teeth around her sensitive bud.

Y/n allowed her hooded eyes to drift to the slightly opened door. There she was, that stupid sun summoner. Alina’s eyes met her own as she panted. Alina’s eyes were wide, her cheek flush with jealousy and embarrassment. Y/n moaned loudly as Aleksander moved her hips against his knee.

Her head gently fell back as she cried out. The knot in her broken as pleasure rippled though her. Aleksander’s lips trail up her neck, biting softly in some places. Slowly he pulled away hosting Y/n on the table. He gently kissed her swollen lips, cradling her face in his hands.

“I apologize for neglecting you milaya.” He whispered softly. A giggle escaped Y/n’s lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his softly. All was well now. Alina saw that only she would ever be so close to Aleksander.

“I love you.” He chuckled softly, kissing under her jaw.

“And I love you most.”

[shirefantasies]

Hey, babes!

Honestly I have brain rot for the idea of the ‘woman of the group does sexy dance to help mission’ trope and like LOTR boys. I also have brain rot for them hearing her sing ‘I Wanna Make Love To You’ by Etta James.

Anyway can I request the elves reactions to reader do a sexy burlesque/strip style dance? Like they in the audience and how they’d react.

By elves I mean: Elrond, Lindir, Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir and Arwen

OK I’M YELLING (I went ahead n threw our girl Galadriel in there cuz gotta catch em all right? 😁) there’s not really a mission lol but hope this does it justice! My latest D&D session the other night ended with burlesque performance so this feels like the perfect time to post this hehe

The Elves Reacting to F!Reader’s Burlesque Performance

Warnings: suggestive obviously 😆

Thranduil

Sure, he knew you’d all but been dared to set foot upon the stage, but something in your resolute expression and the long robe you wore had Thranduil’s eyebrows raising. Nary did he expect the way your hand shot out, grabbing the pole the moment the lights dimmed, or the way your robe dropped, revealing the lowest-cut, highest-slit dress he’d ever seen you in. Breath hitching, he watched as a long wave of fabric draped between your gorgeous legs, which wrapped around the pole as you climbed it. Eyes darkening as you spun, he could hardly help imagining what, or whom, else they could wind around so, and if he would ever be so blessed to see the confident air overtaking you again…

Legolas

Frowning, Legolas disappeared further into the gathering crowd. Gimli was the one who’d dared him to attend the show, telling him he was sure no pointy-ear could handle it. How could it be so, simply a performance? The crowd looked far too eager for you to be putting them into any sort of- oh. You emerged onto the stage, forearms and down covered with feathers like the wings of a great bird. Your legs were almost entirely bare, skirt minimal and bodice little more than a corset. Twirling and pirouetting into poses the woodland prince could only describe as suggestive, you beamed innocently at the crowd and hid behind your feathers, lashes fluttering. Another performer emerged behind you, hands on your waist and fingers deftly loosening your corset… Gripping the arms of his seat tighter, Legolas leaned in, a yearning in his own fingers readily accepting his friend’s latest challenge.

Haldir

A dancer you were. That was a known fact whispered among those familiar with you, often calling you something of a knife-dancer. Curiosity got the better of Haldir when scandal colored whispers of your performance right outside the woods. Was it dangerous, perhaps? Pride flowed into the little smile of anticipation he wore as fast-paced music filled the room and flames were snuffed, leading you to slide gracefully into the dim. Crouching, you crawled to the edge of the stage with a bloodthirsty grin that sent shivers down Haldir’s spine. Flicks of your wrists revealed your famed blades, which you twirled, tossed, and dragged gently along the length of your tongue. Brows raising, he found himself leaning forward with new interest. What sort of dance was- Coherent thought ceased immediately when you tossed your blades, caught them, and began slicing away at purposefully shoddy seams upon your outfit, revealing more and more until the elf was on the edge of his seat…

Galadriel

Hearing of a new form of entertainment served only to pique Galadriel’s curiosity and draw her from her frequent solitude. After all, if it was making her people happy… She did not expect to see a lone performer upon a platform, elaborately feathered fans covering most of her figure, but there you were. Clad all in white, at least from what she could see near your feet, you slowly closed the fans. The long swaths of fabric that hung near the ground begun only at your hips, the expanse of your legs utterly bare as you extended them, moving gracefully across the stage as your fans accentuated every curve and undulation of your body. Jerking, you rotated, hips swiveling as you happened to face the Lady of Lórien, and watching you through her lashes Galadriel felt a devilish smile rise to her lips. She saw exactly why there had been such a buzz…

Lindir

There had been talk of you giving a performance of some kind, but all Lindir had been able to retrieve on the subject was that he should quite like to be in the audience, so with a light heart he shuffled into the crowd, pleased to be quite close to the stage set up for you. Perhaps you’d learned a new instrument under his nose and wishes to surprise him with a performance! Perhaps- You slunk to the center clad in, oh dear, quite a sheer skirt. Feeling a rush of heat to his face, he tried to focus upon the swell of music, largely successful until you ripped your top off, hips swinging lower as your layers thinned and thinned… You froze momentarily, wearing little more than your corset, and made direct eye contact with Lindir, whose eyes widened and body felt quite faint. Slowly, deliberately, you took up your dance once more, grinning at him as you began unlacing the back of your garment. His hands shot up, half-covering his face, but he couldn’t help himself peeking again and again.

Elrond

Housing a troupe of performers was certainly an unusual set of circumstances, but not in the slightest beyond the reach of the great homely house. Indeed, at encouragement from Lindir to let music fill his halls, Elrond acquiesced to a performance, unknowing of the so-called ‘dancers’ who would emerge after the exuberant wind section. In fact, it wasn’t until they called you out that Elrond’s eyes widened, brows expressive as ever as they flexed in great shock. You were lowered down on ropes, sitting with your legs largely bared and swinging. Garments- quite the loose term- of drapery covered the rest of your form, but as you leaned back in your swing, you began twisting, swiveling, removing one veil after another… Elrond found himself looking this way and that, but his eyes could never leave you for long. Feeling his gaze darken and his hands flex, he wondered what he had gotten himself into…

Arwen

How scandalous could it be? Many a friend or even a family member or two had rolled eyes and whispered harshly about your performances, but Arwen was not afraid. No matter what it was said to be, she would experience it for it to be so in her mind. Thus she found herself in the audience of the very subject of contempt, the somewhat smaller ratio of maids to men not lost upon her. A great fount was all Arwen could see at the center of it all, at least until one bare leg slowly arched from its edge. Blinking, Arwen watched as it was followed by another, each of them kicking some water onto the crowd before your hands gripped the other side, flipping over to render most of your body visible. Hanging from the sides, you swiveled your hips, head innocently rested upon your folded arms as if your…ahem…rear end were not moving so. Sitting up, you let go, dropping back into the water with a splash before emerging again and grinningly tossing water on more patrons. Arwen found herself mirroring your expression, following your every motion with interest and a strange sense of elation.

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