#as i continue searching for a job. and also! when i get asked about the gap in my resume i can be like ‘yeah so i was actually freelancing’

[fingertipsmp3]

Why did I get paranoid about how no one has checked the work I submitted yet. It’s literally Sunday

[megwritesriddles]

In the Middle of the Night (In My Dreams!) ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 21 - Somnophilia. Riddle has to figure out a way to keep Reader happy and covering for his ever increasing duties outside of the castle. What initially starts as a transaction escalates when they're both more willing than he expected, leading them to explore the slightly more forbidden together.

Tags: Somnophilia (consensual), Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, Hand jobs, Oral sex (f and m receiving), Friends with benefits, Denial of feelings, SoftDom!Riddle, HeadGirl!Reader, Manipulation, Faking an illness (chronic fatigue is very real, he's just a lying POS, only briefly mentioned).

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!

Word count: 5.1k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Okay so despite this poll (sorry), I edited this into a less dark kinktober fic and will then release a much darker (non-con elements) part two after I finally finish kinktober!! This works as a stand alone if you're not into reading that kinda stuff (which I totally understand, ily dw)!! It just felt too dark for kinktober... even tho I literally have non-con as the prompt for day 25.... idk okay!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

PART 2 COMING SOON !! (but works as stand alone)

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The moment the two of you had been announced as Head Boy and Girl at the start of the year, Riddle knew he had to get on your good side. Not only for the purposes of professional engagements and living in the same quarters but also because there would be a lot he’d need from you. Last year, he had found a flaw in the enchantments around the castle, discovering that apparition in and out of the castle was in fact possible, so long as you did so from the room of requirements. He has started attending to business outside of the castle regularly, rallying supporters in closed-off magical communities, among trolls and elves. He also searches for artefacts and researches dark magic when he finds the time, visiting isolated collections owned by old eccentrics who he is able to charm easily. He’s made himself a busy life outside of Hogwarts which he’s determined to keep up in order for his plans post-graduation to go as smoothly as possible. Which is where you come in. 

He leaves for these expeditions every weekend, but obviously, he’s not actually allowed to leave the castle. He has to ask you to cover for him if anyone asks where he’s gone. He concocts a rubbish story about having chronic fatigue and having to rest all the time he can, and that he can’t possibly be disturbed while he’s resting as he’s taking special potions for sleep. It’s all a lie, playing on your empathy, which he knows you have droves of, something you are widely admired for. He tells you that he’s horribly embarrassed about it and doesn’t want anyone to think he’s incapable of being Head Boy because of it, so asks you to cover for him if anyone asks about him. You give him those big sympathetic eyes and agree, workshopping a litany of excuses with him. He almost feels bad with how seriously you’re taking this, how much you want him to feel okay, even though you’ve never liked him much before. Almost. It won’t happen a lot either way, he’s told his ‘friends’ that he will be out of reach and very sternly told them not to question, so they won’t poke around, and anyone else who needs him won’t need him often. He makes a show of being very tired in the evenings in the common room the first few weeks you live together. Soon after, he drops the charade and you don’t seem to notice the falsification happening right in front of you, continuing to cover for him every now and then when it comes up. You even comment optimistically that he seems more energetic lately, to which he smiles.

“I suppose so, yes, it must be that I can finally get the rest I need, thanks to you,” he says smoothly, proud of himself for taking this as another opportunity to keep you pliable. You seem overjoyed to be helping.

In return, he keeps you sweet. At first, he merely observes you to get an idea of what might keep him on your good side. Then, he starts showing up for you. He brings your favourite pastries from breakfast (you have a bad habit of sleeping in, which sometimes makes him wonder how you got this job, but alas), accompanied by a coffee just how you like it. Complimenting you whenever you try a new hairstyle or dress up nicely on weekends. The first time he’d done it, he’d commented on a trim you’d gotten to your hair over the weekend in Hogsmeade. You were baffled, saying no one had noticed a thing all day. He sensed that you found the fact that he was the only one to notice odd, but he couldn’t help being observant. He told you as much, and you just smiled. He makes sure to do any favours you ask of him, so you can’t throw his refusal back in his face in case you want to stop helping him, he needs something to hold over your head. It’s never much, perhaps helping you with a bit of schoolwork, listening to a speech you’ve prepared for Head duties or just jostling the logs in the fireplace of the common room when the flames die down. He’s surprised you don’t ask for more, considering that he starts asking for a lot from you. 

His schedule outside of Hogwarts gets complicated, requiring him to head out occasionally in the middle of the week. You always cover for him, insisting to professors that he’s ill in bed, even though it’s clear by now that you’ve realised he’s actually missing during these periods. Your enthusiasm over helping him out has dwindled as you get the sense you’re being played, but he treats you well enough that you seem to assume the best intentions. How naive. Having someone so respected by the professors, the head girl herself, lying for him, he knows, is the only reason he’s been getting away with it for this long. He’s ‘sick’ far too often and never seen at the hospital wing, never requesting any medicine or showing any symptoms. He wonders what you think he’s doing when he’s away, doubting you could guess the truth, but you never ask despite your increasingly suspicious looks, which he appreciates. He likes you, you’re discreet, a surprising trait for such a goody-two-shoes as you are. He spends more and more time with you in the common room in his free time, charming you and winning you over, making sure he’s there if you need a favour or a ‘friend’ to talk to. He finds you to be intelligent and likeable, you’re funny, even if he prefers a bit of a darker humour than you have. There are silences as you sit together where you stare at him while he works on whatever schoolwork he deems most important that day, he knows you’re formulating all sorts of theories, your brain turning as you try to make a guess.

“I appreciate you being discreet,” he says simply one night as you sit together, working separately on assignments. The statement is followed by a silence in which he is tempted to look over at you to see your reaction but resists the urge.

“I don’t suppose you’ll ever tell me what you’re up to?” It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out as a statement. You already know he won’t, and he knows it too. No matter how good you’ve proved to be about covering for him, if you knew the true nature of what he was up to, you’d run. Tattle before even letting him explain, which really wouldn’t help either way. He turns to you, extending an arm. 

“Come here,” he nods his head in his direction. You look confused, and he doesn’t blame you for feeling that way, he isn’t affectionate with anyone. He makes a point of never being seen as being soft, which is easy given he isn’t soft for anyone. But he knows the type you are, so sweet and kind, the type that you can be won over with a little affection. There’s no one here to see either of you anyway, he can risk it this once. You slowly scoot into his side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He brushes an errant strand of hair from your face and holds you to his side. “I really do appreciate it, I’m always here if you need anything from me,” he whispers. You look up at him and nod. “Good,” he hums. You spend the rest of the night pressed into his side as you do your homework, it’s odd, but he’s warm and solid, and most girls at Hogwarts would kill to be in your position, so you let it be. It becomes a fairly frequent scene, the two of you snuggled up by the fire, especially as the days grow colder and colder. His hands like to wander, brushing places they probably shouldn’t, but you never stop him or say a word, letting your own hands wander a little too. You don’t talk about it, not with him or with anyone else. You know without words that he doesn’t want it to leave the room. It’s just another secret you have to keep for him. 

He starts having the need for more frequent meetings with his little group of in-school followers, the Knights of Walpurgis, as his plans get closer and closer to their time of fruition. The Head Common Room is the perfect place to host, spacious and completely secret, except for from you. He knows he has to sweeten the deal once more to have you leave the common room for long periods in the evening. So one night, while the two of you study together snuggled up, he kisses you. You’re alarmed but immediately kiss back. He knew you would, every girl in the damn school would, but it still feels like an unexpectedly simple triumph. His hand grips your jaw, not allowing you to move away, not that you’re trying to. Your hand gently cups the side of his neck, keeping him close as his tongue carefully breaches your lips, slightly surprised by how willing you are for him. He has a multitude of things he’s considered doing to you, but for tonight, he has to stick with something focused on your pleasure. He doesn’t mind, pleasuring you is an act of domination in its own right. By the end of the night, he has you sat between his legs, your back to his chest as his fingers thrust in and out of you. You squirm and mewl in his ear, your head thrown back on his shoulder, as he holds you securely with an arm around your middle, fucking you on his fingers. He’s high off of the fact he has you completely nude apart from your socks before him, while he’s still fully dressed.

“There we go, darling,” he purrs in your ear, gently pressing his lips to your jaw. “I bet you’ve wanted this for quite a while, haven’t you?” he teases, grinding the heel of his palm against you as his fingers press in and out. You must have, given how quickly you’d let him strip you down, manoeuvre you into the position he wanted, just how soaking wet you’d been from a couple of strategic words of praise. He’d wrongly assumed you’d be a little more prudish, but he was pleasantly surprised otherwise. “I want you to do something for me,” he whispers, slowing his movements a little so you can focus on his words. You whine softly in protest and he smirks. “Tomorrow evening, could you make yourself scarce for… let’s say three hours? Starting from��� six thirty?” his fingers caress your inner walls torturously lightly, almost tickling, making you squirm unhappily.

“Where would I go?” you exhale.

“Library? Walk the grounds? Astronomy tower? I don’t mind, darling, as long as you’re not here,” he kisses behind your ear softly. He expects some questions or protests, but none come, only a simple nod. He’s a little surprised how easy things are with you, although it may have a lot to do with how his fingers are currently buried deep in your cunt at present, he concedes to himself. But you’re always easy, always helpful, so willing to give him the benefit of the doubt even though you were more than smart enough to know better. “That’s a lovely girl,” he smiles against your skin. He hesitates, unsure whether to reveal the transactional nature of his kindness toward you, but he feels he must assure you somehow that it will be worthwhile. “I’ll reward you accordingly, I promise. You’ll hurry back to me at nine-thirty, won’t you? I’ll be missing you by then,” he purrs, trying to further pull the wool over your eyes with some flattery. He straightens up to look down at you, your head still resting back on his shoulder. “Won’t you?” he prompts again, kissing your forehead. You nod, giving him a pleading look and bucking your hips helplessly. You want him to keep going, feeling half-insane from his unmoving fingers filling you up.

And that he does, finger-fucking you through two mind-blowing orgasms that night, showering you with ever more ridiculous praises as the night goes on. It’s unclear whether you’re losing your mind to the pleasure and not understanding him, or if he’s just spewing every compliment he can possibly think of. Once you’re thoroughly debauched, he helps you into your bed as your legs are too shaky on their own, laying you down and kissing you goodnight with a slightly stilted tenderness. You watch him in quiet confusion as he retreats from your room, feeling satisfied and yet completely confused. 

It becomes a bit of a routine, whenever he needs you to stay away from the common room, or otherwise go out of your way for him, he pulls you into his lap in the evening and tugs down your underwear, pleasuring you expertly. Soon, it becomes harder to tell, as he begins to get you off every night, whether he’s after something or not. You don’t know if it’s just his efforts to make sure you don’t forget to think of him positively, you’re far from oblivious to the fact you’re being bribed, or if he’s just enjoying it at this point. He stretches out your encounters more and more, especially when you start returning the favour, using your hand on him while he does the same to you. You’re pleasantly surprised how aroused he gets just from fucking you on his fingers, always at least half-hard by the time you can get your hands on him. When he introduces his mouth into the equation, you’re sure he’ll be asking something big of you soon. But he doesn’t, nothing new comes up, other than you also beginning to use your mouth on him. He seems to love it, so you suppose it must have been motivation enough. He likes to take his time, to make you feel helpless and desperate, not seeming to care if it leads him to spend long periods of time kneeling before you, which was something you were certain he would have never been caught doing for anyone.

It’s a nice relationship in Riddle's opinion, he gets off and he gets what he wants from you. You make yourself scarce and Riddle is able to conduct his meetings in peace in a perfect setting. Whether you’re using mouths or hands, it’s always intensely pleasurable. He grows attached to the sight of you on your knees before him, his cock deep in your mouth as you look up at him with those wide innocent eyes. You’re amazing with your mouth, and usually willing to get on your knees whenever he’d like you to. It’s a perfect arrangement in this way. He loves to hold you down and make you scream using nothing but his tongue. Some of his friends say that eating out a woman is demeaning, but he never feels more powerful than when he has you crying and begging. He loves to make you beg, long-forgotten is the fact he’s meant to be doing this just to keep you sweet, just to manipulate you into helping him. He’s lost in it now, and no matter how selfish he gets in bed, you keep covering for him, seeming to misinterpret him as generous rather than intensely power-hungry. It works well for his purposes, so he lets you think of him as a giving lover.

He’s a little surprised that you haven’t asked for any exclusivity or any indication of whether he’s bringing in other girls at the times he asks you to keep away. He’s not, of course, but he doesn’t understand why you don’t care to ask. He tells himself that it doesn’t matter, but deep down it does bother him, every other girl he’d ever been involved with, even briefly, had asked to be his one and only. You’re a sweet girl, the type he assumed would fall in love with him the moment he first got his hands on (and in) you, but you haven’t indicated this in any way. He knows you’re not seeing any other men because he keeps an eye on you whenever he can. Even having gone so far as to cancel a meeting with a tradesman in Diagon Alley to stay back and watch you while you think he’s away. Nothing. You go about your day as normal, come back to the common room and curl up to read your book. Just before bed, you attempt to get yourself off and fail, pouting through your night routine. You can’t do it without him, he notes smugly. He wishes he could come help, but he can’t without revealing his spying. By the time he gets back legitimately, you’re fast asleep. Given all of this, he still doesn’t understand why you’re not asking him for a commitment. It’s not that he wants to commit to you, he doesn’t like the idea of being tied down, even if he currently has no interest or energy to pursue anyone but you, but the fact you haven’t asked drives him nuts. You seem happy to get off with him and go to sleep without asking a single question. He lingers in your doorway, watching your frame rise and fall under your blanket with slow breaths, wondering about you.

He’s surprised when you bring it up. How you’d felt his presence in your doorway while you’d been asleep, despite not being fully awake. He explained that he’d been wanting to help you out (his own evasive phrasing) but that you’d been visibly asleep so he’d left instead. At your expression, he asks you teasingly if you’d have liked him to do it anyway, his teasing smirk only growing when you blush and nod. And so a system was set, he tells you to sleep on the sofa in the common room if you’d like his attention during the night, as he has a habit of waking up in the middle of the night to fetch water. You agree and you proceed together like normal for the next few days, pleasuring each other in the evenings when he isn’t busy. Every night, even on nights he wasn’t actually waking up naturally, he would come into the common room to check for you. For a long time, you’re not there, and he’s a little frustrated with you. Why dangle such a tantalising idea in front of him if you never meant to go through with it? He’d been a perfect gentleman, telling you that you could say no if the idea made you uncomfortable, but at the time, you’d seemed apprehensively excited about it, yet now, nothing. His eyes stay glued on your door as he goes about getting his water each night, wishing he could go in there. He tries his best not to show his disappointment when he spends time with you in the daytime, not wanting to come off as pushy and drive you away. He needed you to like him, staying on your good side was non-negotiable and pushing you on a matter like this was generally frowned upon. About a week and a half later, he trudges from his room to top up his glass and sees a lump under a blanket on the sofa. It’s you.

He immediately slows and lightens his footsteps, not wanting to wake you as it would ruin the fun. He hadn’t had time for you the last four days, between increasing stakes when it came to schoolwork and closing in on a magical artefact outside of it, he’d been gone for everything but class and sleep. He creeps over to you, seeing your peaceful face squished against the velvet throw pillow. You must have missed him, he thinks, since you started your little mutual arrangement you’ve never gone more than two days without each other before, mostly because Riddle found himself quite insatiable. He’d always told himself he was uninterested in matters of the flesh, that he enjoyed indulging but could easily control himself, and that he was only doing what he was with you to manufacture a sense of closeness and keep you in the palm of his hand. Yet, he had to admit that he doesn’t usually go so far for the purposes of manipulation and that he never would have done this in the first place if he hadn’t found you attractive. He was unwilling to sacrifice his own happiness for his manipulation, beyond a bit of necessary flattering drivel. So when he’d allowed himself into this arrangement, even simply under a pretence, he had quickly lost control of it and become ravenous for the sensations you could offer. He watches your parted lips as you breathe softly. Gently, he rolls you onto your back, waiting to see if you wake. You don’t. He slips the plush blanket down your body and exposes you to his eyes. You’re dressed in a sweet feminine nightgown and he finds the look to be sweet on you, fitting. You were a perfect thing to corrupt. Yet, he smirks to himself, you had agreed to this, you were already corrupted, so desperate for him that you wanted him even in your sleep. Surely you did want exclusivity from him, you were just trying to appear laid back to not scare him off. You could be endearingly shy like that at times. Yes, you agreeing to this was surely evidence that you wanted more from him than you had. That you needed him.

He slowly and cautiously shifts you around until he can settle comfortably between your legs. His hands run up and down the soft skin of your thighs, keeping a close eye to see if you stir. He wonders if you’re really such a heavy sleeper, or if you’re merely pretending not to have woken for his benefit. At the moment it doesn’t matter to him, you seem asleep enough, and if you are conscious, you’re hardly objecting. He pushes up the hem of your nightdress and grins at the sight of you already bare for him, with no underwear in sight. Naughty girl, he thinks to himself as his hands skim up and down your inner thighs, leaning forward to press a soft kiss just above the little patch of hair shielding the part of you he wants most. He would love to tease you and draw it out more, but he doesn’t want you to wake before he can explore the more intimate aspects. He carefully lies down, guiding one of your supple thighs over his shoulder, spreading you open for his eager eyes. You’re already a little wet, he wonders if it’s from his teasing now, or perhaps your dreamy anticipation. He knows he can get you wetter easily. He uses two fingers to gently spread you open even more, revealing the sensitive pearl nestled within your folds. He blows lightly on it, making you twitch a little. He grins.

Still trying to let you stay asleep for now, he leans in and very gently touches his tongue to your bundle of nerves. You sigh softly in your sleep but don’t seem to wake. Your dreams are turning sticky-sweet, you begin to feel warm and floaty, but you’re not conscious enough to register this change properly. You squirm slightly and moan as his tongue gently swirls around your clit, not touching to keep you just bubbling below waking. Your breath is hitching softly, and little noises are leaving your throat. He can tell you’ll wake soon unless he stops, but he figures he doesn’t mind. He wants to see your face when you wake up to his head between your legs. Will you be shocked to start with? Or immediately eager and accepting? He was oddly thrilled to discover this. Your hands slide away from where they rested on your stomach, trying to grab something as he starts to lap at you just a little faster, your breath hitching a little more, exhaling shakily. He’s surprised you’re still asleep, he’s tempted to use legilimency on you to discover what you’re dreaming of. Your face is flushed and your lips parted blissfully, so he figures it’s something nice. His tongue slides up and down between your slick folds, the familiar taste of you spreading across his tongue as you become more and more aroused. He gently kneads the skin of your hip, pulling you a little closer to his mouth, trying to coax you awake without startling you too much. Your eyelids flutter, but you remain asleep, whimpering quietly. He focuses the tip of his tongue on your clit, making the stimulation just a little more intense, watching for your reaction intently. Your fingers tangle into the crumpled blanket by your side, curling into the plush material, and he knows you're on the very verge of wakefulness. He smirks, gently suckling your clit into his mouth. 

This rips a loud moan from your chest, which in turn makes your eyes snap open. You try to sit up, blinking blearily, looking a little bewildered, trying to make out shapes in the dim moonlight, to understand why you feel lost in a haze of pleasure. Riddle's hand moves, splaying out on your stomach, pushing you back down and holding you there. Your eyes snap to him, he grins up at you from between your legs, looking unbelievably smug, his eyes glinting in the light of the moon. The sight of him between your legs, the knowledge of what he’d been doing while you’d been sleeping, coaxes another moan from your lips. He eases up a little now you’re awake, going back to gentle teasing licks against your bundle of nerves. Your heart pounds and you breathe rapidly, partially reeling from the sudden awakening, but mostly just feeling amazing. You lie back against the sofa, trying your best to get your bearings while he continues smothering you with unrelenting bliss. He pulls back for a moment, though he instantly replaces his mouth with his fingers, not giving you a moment to think. 

“Naughty girl, sleeping without underwear to give me access,” he purrs, his voice rumbling in a self-satisfied manner. You giggle sleepily. You had done that, hadn’t you? He smiles up at you. “Was it a nice awakening, my darling?” he murmurs smoothly, leaning back in to continue his dedicated licks. You whimper softly, your hips twitching before he holds you solidly in place, tutting against your sensitive skin.

“The best awakening, so unbelievably arousing,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, watching him work his magic between your legs. He hums against you. He knows this of course, this was quite possibly the wettest he’d ever had you, only increasing since you’d woken up and become conscious of what he was doing. Your hands slide into his short curls as he works, usually, he might complain about this, but you’re still a little sleepy, and he decides to let it go. You sigh pleasurably, your hooded eyes locked on him. His eyes look up to meet yours as he begins to suckle on your clit once more. Intense pleasure floods over you, your head lolling back, your hands tightening slightly in his hair. You let out a string of desperate moans, moans he’s become intimately familiar with over the past few weeks. You’re close and he intends to get you there, to show you how much you need him, to remind you that you can no longer achieve this alone, if you ever could. He doubles down on his actions, gripping your hip a little tighter to keep you firmly in place. “Oh… Tom!” you plead, trying to grind your centre up into his face. You could get so desperate sometimes, Riddle tuts to himself. “Please,” you beg, anticipating his desire to tease you and hoping to get ahead of it. You need this, badly, he hasn’t been around to help you for days, and the scenario was driving you mad with lust. He’s uncharacteristically gracious, not relenting, continuing to lavish you with exquisite sensation, building you up and up. You look down again, and as his eyes meet yours, the coil in your belly snaps. Your whole body tenses, your back arching off of the sofa, a guttural cry escaping you. He holds your hips in place, continuing his assault as you ride out the climax. Tears gather in your eyes and you feel a little humiliated by how intensely this is affecting you. 

After several desperate sobs, you finally collapse back, your hands slipping from his hair. You take several deep breaths as he withdraws from between your legs, sitting up to look down at you. He grabs a tissue from the coffee table, wiping his mouth and discarding it haphazardly. You smile tiredly, and you feel exhausted by your sudden wake-up, but completely heavenly at the same time. You stare at each other for a moment. It’s an oddly domestic moment. You’ve never seen him in his pyjamas before, a matching shirt and trousers, made of silk or some other such soft material, the type that’s popular with the rich Slytherin boys. His hair is a little curly naturally, this you did know from him getting back to the common room on rainy days, but is now slightly messed up from your hands in it. You cover yourself back up, tugging the hem of your nightdress back down as he watches. He looks almost sweet, he has been sweet to you, in his own way. He reaches over and touches your flushed cheek, rubbing it softly with his thumb, unsure whether he’s trying to prove his effect on you, or just wishing to touch you. 

“I’ll have to think of something to ask of you in exchange for doing that,” he jokes a little unnaturally. You laugh honestly. 

“You didn’t already have something?” you tease, moving to sit up. He smiles, enjoying the way you see through him, just enough to prove you’re not stupid, but not enough to compromise any plans. Perhaps that’s why you haven’t asked for exclusivity with him, you’re not stupid like the others, whether you want it or not being irrelevant to the facts. The facts that were feeling more like theories lately.

“No, believe it or not,” he chuckles, pushing your hair behind your shoulder. “But it’ll be easy enough to think of something,” he pulls you onto his lap and kisses you goodnight. “You always find a way of being useful,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[itsfairly]

if no one is going to talk about nanami's suspenders, i will.

nanami dresses really professionally, who else is going to wear a suit when going to fight curses? but it's the way he dresses professionally that it's interesting. sure, the colors on his suit aren't the most common combination to see in an office job, but when you focus on the pieces, you can tell he puts an effort into looking that way. slacks ironed right in the middle to get that prominent line, how he always makes sure to shine his shoes before they become too dull, and then his suspenders...god, you still remember the first he took them off in front of you.

you see, his suit can be pretty deceiving, hiding all his body underneath it. not just skin, but also build. so its no surprise if some things get tight around his body. Some things being said suspenders.

once the blazer was off and nanami placed his cleaver away, he sat on the bed with his back facing you as he unclasped the clips of his suspenders, the small click-click getting your attention from your phone as you stole a quick glance at him. you didn't thought much of it at first until you hear a quiet, but very noticeable in the silent room, groan as he slipped the garment off, making your heart skip a beat.

from there on, you continued to enjoy the view in silence, mentally thanking that his back was facing you and he wouldn't notice you staring. his shirt was the next to go, agonizingly slow as he worked through the buttons with the little energy he had from his mission today. but once unbuttoned, nanami took the shirt off and you felt your heart make its presence to you once more as it beat faster and faster. not because more skin was exposed to you, but because you understood why it was his suspenders that made him groan.

they were tight around his body, and after a day's work, they had left marks behind.

you dont know why the sight captivated you so badly. i mean, he wore something so elegant to work, something other people wouldn't wear given his line of work, something that probably left his skin sore. but god, you would be lying his seeing those marks didn't spark something in you.

but now, the backseat to this sight didn't satisfy you enough, so you stood up, walking to the other side of the room to steal a glance or two under the pretense of getting a sweater. if his back was a sight, the front was just as much. the x shape on his back extended over to his shoulder, draping the marks down his chest in two lines until they ended on both his sides. it was hard to play off the glances, having to remind yourself that you shouldn't be too obvious as you turned to your closet and search for your excuse (a sweater).

in a weird way, those marks were almost erotic, reminding you that nanami is much more muscular than his clothes make him seen. after all, just how tight (and how long) those suspenders could be if they left such marks? you just wanted to trace them with your fingers, letting the marks dictate where you would caress, feeling the slight dents in his skin as you soothed them over with your lips as you kissed over them, hearing him sigh and groan the more you went south until you...

"something wrong?" nanami asked, snapping you out of your thoughts as you turned your head to look at him.

"just choosing a sweater. i got chilly," you smiled at him, taking whatever sweater as quickly slipping it on.

nanami, to your dismay, had already changed out of his clothes and into his sweatpants, hiding away those marks that had caught your attention so quickly. he stood up from the bed, coming behind you and wrapping his arms around you with a chuckle.

"my darling is cold? i can't have that, you know?" he said, rubbing your sides affectionately to warm you up, not that he needed to when you were already quite hot and bothered now. "i can make you some tea if you want."

you chuckled, ignoring his hands on you (otherwise you would push him onto the bed when his body was probably too sore for that). turning around to face him, you place your hands on his shoulders to try and sneak a touch over where his suspenders would be, making you feel that anticipation was your hands roam down to rest on his chest as if you were already following along his marks.

"sounds nice, love," you nod, letting him taking your hand and guiding you to the kitchen.

maybe next time you would get a chance to feel those marks. this time, skin to skin. even better, take off those suspenders yourself.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

[quaintii]

Across the Street

Part 2

Part 1 <- content: divorced father, babysitting, teasing, slowburn (kinda sped up ig?), more 🤫 18+ MATURE CONTENT -- SMUT 😆😆 (@ for art is @kimmy_arts0912 on Twitter).

MDNI

Two hours later, you hear a knock on the door. The knocks were very quick, spaced about half a second apart. Three knocks exactly. You get up from the couch and open the door.

Gabriella stands in front of you, staring at you with wide eyes. She was dressed in a cute yellow blouse and a pair of black shorts.

"H-hello...?" *She asks quietly. She looks excited but also scared, as if she knew you were going to take care of her tonight.

"Hey!! How are you Gabi??" You squeal as you lightly pinch her chubby cheeks. You wanted to leave the best impression so you could stay with this job; you still enjoyed babysitting and connecting with kids.

"Amazing!" She said with a high pitched voice.

Gabi nods and smiles, seeming to enjoy your company already. Miguel would most likely be gone for the rest of the night. She extends her arms and looks up at you for you to pick her up.

"Daddy said you'd be great at taking care of me."

"Of course! I will be here with you always. Want to go play upstairs?" You ask as you carry her off the floor and into your arms.

She smiles at you, her expression giving off an innocent look. Her eyes light up at the suggestion of playing.

She asks, her sweet smile increasing as she continues to ask questions.

"Yes! Can we play dolls? Or dress up? Is that okay...?"

"Anything you want, Gabi!"

"Yay!!"

She smiles brightly at you again, her enthusiasm clear. You bring back on the floor and she starts to walk up the stairs, calling you to follow her.

"Come on, come on! Let's go play!"

She walks up fast, expecting you to follow.

You follow Gabi and enter her room. The room is painted in bright pink with a lot of plush and stuffed animals on a huge bed. Gabi walks towards her toy chest and starts looking for something inside it.

"Help me look for my dolls!"

She glances at you as she continues to search through her toys. You walk to her other toy chest and rummage through the toys, finally found dolls at the pit bottom.

Gabi's eyes go wide when she sees her favorite doll. She takes it and wraps her arms around it, looking at you again. She had a huge smile on her face because she was so happy and excited.

"Let's play!"

She puts the doll next to her on the bed, the bed big enough for the two of you to have plenty of room. Gabi pats the mattress beside her, suggesting you to sit down. You sit down next to her, grabbing one of the dolls in the small pile. It had black curly hair with tan skin, freckles scattered across her face with a pink ballroom dress attached to it.

Gabi looks at the doll you're holding and nods. She takes her own favourite doll and begins telling a story, acting out the characters of the play using her two dolls. You notice her sweet smile and hear the adorable sound of her voice.

As she plays, Gabi seems to be enjoying herself. She even includes you in her play, asking you what her doll should say in certain situations. She clearly likes your company and she sees you as a friend already.

An hour later, Gabi continues her storyline. She seems to be having a great time, as she looks at you every so often. She giggles and smiles at you, seeming to appreciate all the little movements you make to participate. Your phone vibrates and you check your notification; Miguel is texting you.

"Hope you two are having fun. I'll be back in another hour or so. Be careful with her."

I laugh with her as she tells me a couple jokes and I hear a ding from my phone; her dad. I open the notification and text him back "We are having so much fun! She's so adorable!" You sent the text, waiting for a message in return.

Almost immediately you get a text back. "Great! See you soon then." You react with a thumbs up emoji.

She continues to laugh, smiling wide as she looks at you. She plays with her dolls in different positions and even makes one of her dolls 'fall' in love with yours. She giggles and smiles excitedly when that happens.

She then hears your phone ringing, and stops to look at you. She stays still for a moment and then speaks when you open the text message.

"Is that my daddy?"

You can't help but smile at the way she said 'daddy.' She seems to be fond of Miguel and admires him greatly.

"Yes it is! He's still at work so he'll be here soon." You turn off your phone to see Gabi with a small frown. "What's wrong Gabi?" You ask her as you scoot closer to her, caressing her cheeks. "I don't get to see daddy often because of mommy.." *she muttered. You put the pieces together; he was divorced..

Gabi's face turns sad when she mentions her mom. She looks down and hugs her doll tightly, her big brown eyes closed as she frowns.

"I don't get to see him as much because my mommy didn't like him anymore..."

She speaks in a small voice, sounding disappointed with the situation of her family. She starts shaking her head slowly.

"I... I wish I could see daddy more often." She mumbled. I see the sadness in her eyes and scoot closer to her and give her a tight hug.

"It's okay Gabi.. your dad loves you so so much! He would do anything for you." You caress her curly hair to soothe her.

Gabi accepts your hug and leans on you, enjoying you holding her in your arms. She feels comforted and warm, and you notice her face lighting up for a second, like she finally felt at ease, safe and happy.

"I like you. You're nice." She mumbles, speaking softly.

"Can you stay with me tonight until daddy gets back? I don't want to be alone..."

"I would never leave you alone, Gabriella..

30 minutes later, you encourage Gabi to eat some cereal and brush her teeth. At first she refused but gives in as you playfully kept nudging her. You change her into soft pajamas and read her a bedtime story to fall asleep.

You turn off some of the lights, leaving the bedstand lamp on. She plants a soft kiss on your cheeks before dozing off to sleep. You smile lightly, returning the kiss and closed her door as quietly as you can.

You go downstairs and hear the door creaking and close shut. It's him. Miguel smiles tiredly at you.

"Good evening. So... is Gabi asleep?"

His voice is quiet, not wanting to wake up Gabi. He crosses his arms and looks at you, clearly tired. His eyes scan you from top to bottom, and when he's done, his gaze lingers on your lips for a second. Once he realizes what he's doing, he quickly changes his look.

"How has everything been? Was Gabi misbehaving at all?"

Miguel smiles again, not seeming to want to go to sleep just yet.

"She was wonderful, Mr O'Hara. She's an amazing little girl." You smiled at him softly. Miguel nods, seeming to appreciate your words. He notices you smiling at him again, and then smiles once more.

"It's a pleasure for me, too, Miss... L/N. Is that right?"

He asks, raising a brow. You nod in response.

"Thank you for helping me take care of Gabi. She's quite a handful."

He puts one of his hands behind his head.

"And... I'm sorry to ask but... I know it's very late, but..." He peered at you.

"...would you care for some wine?"

Miguel smiles when you accept his offer to drink some wine, and walks over to grab a pair of glasses. He fills both of them halfway with wine, and hands a glass to you. He then takes a sip from his cup and looks at you. He smiles, his eyes traveling from your eyes to your lips, and then back to your eyes. His eyes are still a bit bloodshot, but he looks more awake now.

"So.. I'd like to learn more about the woman who took care of Gabi tonight..." He asked. As he took another sip of his wine, he placed it on down on the countertop, tilting his head at you, waiting for yo to speak.

"Really?" You asked playfully.

Miguel chuckles and nods.

"Yes, yes. That's what I said. I'm curious to know more about you. Can I ask why you decided to help take care of Gabi tonight? Did you need the money... Or did you enjoy the company with her? Maybe you just do that whenever you have nothing else to do, and were bored at home?"

His eyes stay on you, waiting for your response. Miguel pours a bit more of wine into his cup, his lips slightly red now.

"Gabi is an amazing child, I loved spending time with her but I also took this job opportunity, once again thank you really, to fix my student debt." You smile as you take another sip of your wine.

Miguel smiles.

"Yes, Gabi is a lovely daughter. You're lucky to spend time with her. And...yes, I figured the money was important to you too. I'm glad I could offer you that opportunity."

Miguel nods and smiles, finishing another cup of wine.

"I'm glad you enjoy her company. She's going to feel really happy about being her babysitter from now on."

Miguel's eyes then start to wander all over your face, your curves catching his attention.

"Can I... ask you something personal..if you don't mind that is.."

"Sure, it's fine."

Miguel's eyes stop gazing across your curves, and then look at your face. He sighs and then speaks.

"Forgive me if this is too forward... But do you have a boyfriend? Or a husband? Or anyone special in your life?"

Miguel takes another sip of wine from his glass, and then smiles at you again, looking at your mouth once more.

"If not... Are you single?" Miguel smiles at you with a teasing expression.

Miguel smiles, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. He stares at you with his brown eyes, his gaze making you feel slightly nervous and excited at the same time. "I'm single actually.." You muttered softly, tracing the outline of the glass.

"Well, I think it's very unfortunate then. Such a beautiful woman without a boyfriend..." He looks at you intensely for a moment, before speaking again.

"May I ask you if you like older men? I know I am not in my 20s anymore... But I'm sure this old, tired man still has some charm..."

Miguel laughs a bit nervously, smiling at you and drinking more wine from his cup.

You were left speechless, with a dry throat as you heard that question fall off his lips. "Uhm.. maybe.." You grin nervously as you turn your head to a different way to avoid his stare.

"Maybe you should give an old man a chance. Maybe he can teach you a lot of new things that the young boys can't..."

Miguel's gaze continues to look at you, his mouth curling in a very seductive smile. You feel like he's tempting you to kiss him. He seems to enjoy the view of you. You also notice him looking at you lustfully. That gets your heart pumping and blood rushing to your cunt.

Miguel's gaze doesn't leave you. He leans towards you until your faces are about an inch apart, his voice whispering in your ear. Your heart pumps faster when his hand touches your back.

"Call me Miguel... Mr O'Hara is only for work. But we're not at work any longer... Isn't that right?"

He looks down at your lips once again, and his eyes look up at your face.

"How about...you and I spend a little bit of time together tonight?"

You look down at your feet, feeling nervous. Heat flushing your face to a soft red.

Miguel chuckles at your nervousness, clearly noticing it. He notices you shifting your gaze to look down at the ground, and then lifting your chin to look at his face. He leans over and places a hand on your chin, keeping your head up and your gaze on him.

"You don't have to be scared, ... I don't bite, or do I..?" He growled.

Miguel chuckles when you stare at him with 'doe eyes', looking a bit like you were mesmerized by him. He notices your gaze on him once again. Then, he leans forward, pressing his lips onto yours. His hands gently cup your face as he kisses you, his tongue slowly exploring your mouth. He pulls away and looks down at you.

You take a few breaths and crash your lips on his. The hunger of lust. Your fingers tug at his hair, pulling him even closer. The both of you breathe heavily against eachothers faces, separating for air. A slick of saliva holding onto your lips.

Your kiss surprises Miguel but he likes the feeling of your lips crashing onto his. Miguel continues to kiss you, matching your aggressiveness. His hands run down your face and then along your back, before moving to your hips. His body pressed hard against yours and his lips pressed against yours, still exploring them softly but also rather greedily.

He pressed you against the counter and pulled you on top. Miguel chuckles even more seeing your enthusiasm as he lifts you up and places you on top of the countertop.

He starts to unbutton and slide his button-up shirt off, showing his abs and chest before you. His eyes are still on your face, but you catch him glancing down at your body a couple times. You also notice a bulge slowly growing in his jeans. He had a huge tent.

As he pressed himself on your covered cunt, the hot feeling made you arch your back and mewl his name.

"What? Does that feel good?" He hummed and nibbled your neck once more. "We have to be quiet... Don't want to wake Gabi up y'know.."

He sighs softly and smiles at you, continuing to grind into you. Miguel's eyes close lets out a husky groan when you caress his body, your soft hands roaming his chest. He continues to kiss you, gently biting your lips every so often as his one hand reaches behind you, tugging the hem of your shorts.

Miguel wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. His hips push against yours, as if he wanted you to feel every inch of his body. You felt his hard bulge tease your clothed cunt, rubbing himself with more pressure against you, grinding his hips on your clit as he nibbled your neck softly.

You let out small husky moans as more pressure would be applied to your cunt.

He shivers slightly as your hands run closer to his bulge. His hands running down your zipper, unbuttoning your shorts but not removing them. His fingers pinching your clit softly, making him even more needy by hearing your desperate voice; practically begging.

"I've barely touched you and you're already so f'king soaked for me cariño...que maravillosa coño.." (what an amazing pussy). He touched the hem of your underwear and slid his fingers on your scorching cunt.

He motioned his fingers in a circular rotation; lifting them up to his mouth and tasting you. "You taste so good..fuck. Look what you do to me amor... ábreme la boca muñeca." (Open your mouth, doll.) He bit his lower lip, hard enough to draw some blood as you stuck out your tongue, obeying him. He rutted his fingers into your throat, making you gag continuously whenever he could push harder.

His whispers and praises sunk in my skin, filling every part of my body with satisfaction.

Before he can do anything else, you hear Gabi's voice from her room.

"Daddy??!" She yelled as soft thuds were heard, heading downstairs.

It seems like she has woken up and her voice is loud. Miguel flinches and looks over. He lets out an loud groan.

"Si mija, es papi.." He responded back. "Coño.." he whispered under his breath. He rubbed his palm on his face, exhaustion; heavy bags showing that clearly as you glanced over at him.

He quickly changed back into his work shirt, ruffling his already disheveled hair, a bit frustrated and eyes furrowed. You jump off the countertop, standing there nervously as you fix your shorts. Miguel waved at you, sending a wink your way. You sneak to the door, before shutting it close you peered your eyes into Miguel. He reached his arms to his daughter, carrying her upstairs. You close the door shut and walk back to your house, still in shock.

part 3.

Taglist: @videogamedriver @azxr3 @onfuis @redrxbel @honeycovered-bandaids @eskamybeloved @oof1 @yumeeesss @lovelotsemilie @blakeaha @skrunkle11 @miaasmf @avatricu @deputy-videogamer @khaleesihavilliard @nellyboosworld @hk-4ever

a/n: hai guys I jus finished part 2, sorry it took a while lately I've been practicing skating sooo 🤭 here's some munchies.

[7seas-of-ryy]

Rock Paper Scissors

Author’s Note: I really love the idea of Rhys, Cass, and the reader doing stupid things together :))

Summary: You get in trouble with your High Lord and get sent on a mission as a punishment

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: let me know if I need to add any :)

"How did you get stuck doing this?" Azriel asked you

You were both hiking through a dense rain forrest, in search of a special tree. The wood had some sort of magical powers and even one branch would help the Night Court out.

"Cass and I helped Rhys sneak Nyx out so we could try to fly with him." you told the shadowsinger

"What?!" He responded with a small laugh

You, Cassian, and Rhys all woke up Nyx early from his nap to try and sneak him out. Feyre didn't want him learning how to fly yet but Rhys was so excited. And there were three of you, so you knew Nyx would be safe.

Rhys was on top of the hill with Nyx while you and Cass were at the base of it. Right before his first attempt, Feyre showed up and stopped it. You and Cass took off before she could see you and went back home, leaving Rhys to take all the heat.

You and Cassian were sitting in chairs in the living room pretending you had been there for a long time when Feyre walked in holding Nyx and Rhys was close behind her.

She was yelling at him for a good five minutes before she took a breath.

"He was completely safe, I promise. Just please calm down." Rhys made the mistake of telling her.

"Calm down? You wanted to teach my son to fly without my permission and you're telling me to calm down?!" She screeched

You and Cassian couldn't help but stare and listen as Rhys got scolded.

"No sex for 2 weeks." She told her mate.

"That's not fair at all!" Rhys pouted.

"Oh yeah? Then make it a month!" She told him as she left the room.

At that, you and Cass both let out a laugh you had been desparately trying to hold in. Rhys snapped his head to you both, glaring at the two of you, which caused you both to straighten up.

You pretended to be looking at something on the carpet while Cass pretended to look at the ceiling.

"Ah y/n look at this..." Cassian trailed off, trying to make it look like you two weren't paying attention.

"Oh my, I've never seen such a great ceiling" You added as Rhys came up to you two.

"A great celing?" Rhys questioned

"Yeah I mean, you have outdone yourself. This ceiling is really something." Cass stated trying to get out of it.

"Cass is right, I haven't noticed til now how great it is!" You added

"I know you both were listening in on that. And I also know that you were both with me and tried to get him to fly as well. Seeing as Feyre is punishing me, it is only fitting I punish the both of you." Your High Lord told you both

"He had two missions, one was surveillance and the other was to find this tree with you. Neither of us wanted the surveillance job so we did rock paper scissors and Cass lost." You told Az after explaining everything

"So that's why he was pouting when we left," he huffed a laugh, "well I'm glad its you with me, you're much better company."

A blush rose to your face and he smirked at you. You didn't know what to say so you just continued on. The shadowsinger led you both through the forest, you closely behind him.

After about 20 minutes of walking, your eyes drifted to the male in front of you. You admired his large wings for a few moments then your eyes drifted lower until they reached his-

"I can feel you staring." he spoke suddenly.

"I was not!" you tried to defend yourself but you were most definitely checking him out.

His back was still to you as he spoke again, "It's ok, I check you out when you're not looking too."

Your face must've looked like a tomato at this point.

"Can we just focus on the mission?" you questioned, trying desperately to change the subject.

"It's your lucky day, I see the tree up ahead." He stated

The two of you finally reached the tree and you realized a lot of the lower branches looked rotten. You would have to get a branch that was higher up.

"Come here, I'm gonna lift you up and you can cut one of the branches." he told you

"What?! Why can't you just fly up there or use magic to get it?" You argued.

"Because if I use my magic or fly above the tree, it might alert enemies and we don't know what lives in this forest." He explained.

"Fine" you said while walking over to him.

Before you could ask how he wanted to do it, he was lifting you as if you weighed nothing. He had grabbed your hips lifting you up until you were sitting on his shoulder. You quickly cut one of the branches and dropped it down.

He spun your body around til you were facing him and slowly slid you down his body. He stopped you when you were face to face, your feet not touching the ground. His hands were under you butt, holding you up.

Your breath hitched when you realized how close you two actually were.

After a few seconds, he continued to slide you down his body until your feet hit the ground. You quickly looked away, ending the moment, both of you getting red at what just happened.

"We should get going, we still have a little ways to go until we get to the cottage." He coughed and told you.

"Cottage?" You thought this was just a quick mission and you already had the branch.

"Rhys doesn't want us traveling at night. We haven't searched these areas yet and we don't want to learn the hard way what comes out in the dark." He told you

The pair of you continued on for another hour towards the cabin in silence. You started to feel eery, as if something was watching you. Az's shadows slowly made their way over to you, swirling around you like a shield.

"Y/N!" Az shouted but you couldn't hear him.

A giant ball of water had swept you up and trapped you inside. You couldn't get out no matter how hard you swam. It was taking you in the opposite direction of the shadowsinger.

The burning in your lungs was too painful. Right as you were about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, you felt a tingle in your chest. It was like there was a little ball of energy inside you and you reached for it.

As you touched it, light exploded all around you, no. The light was coming from... you? The bubble of water you were being held captive in burst and you fell, clawing at your throat for air.

Azriel ran to you on the ground, pulling you into his lap.

"Hey, look at me. Just breath, I've got you." He continued whispering encouraging words into your ear as your breath returned to normal.

You finally looked up at the male holding you and felt relief flood your body at the realization that you were safe in his arms. He put his forehead to yours and closed his eyes.

"You're safe, you're alive." He kept repeating as if he was trying to convince himself.

You opened your eyes and and once again realized how close the two of you were. If you leaned just a little bit closer, your lips might touch.

He opened his eyes after a couple moments and you just sat there, gazing into each other's eyes.

This time, it was his turn to break your stares. He looked around making sure there weren't any other threats.

"Lets hurry and get to that cottage. Will you be okay to walk? I can carry you if you would like." Az offered.

"I can walk, lets get going. I don't want to find out anymore about whatever that thing was." You quickly spoke.

You continued the walk to the cottage, this time with Az very close behind you. He was so close, he would brush against you every few minutes and it was driving you crazy.

After almost kissing him twice, his touch was sending you into overdrive. You slowed down at one point so you wouldn't trip over some roots and he bumped into your back. You could've sworn you heard him groan.

Finally, you made it to the cabin and once you both entered and ensured it was safe inside, Az started to get a fire going.

"You need to take off those clothes, they're soaking wet. I can lay them by the fire so they'll dry." He spoke, breaking the long silence between you two.

"Um I didn't know we would be gone for more than one day so I didn't bring any extra clothes." You confessed, feeling unprepared.

"Here, you can wear my extra shirt I brought. I don't have any extra pants but I think it'll be big enough to cover you." He offered.

With a grateful smile, you grabbed the shirt for him and went to change only to realize this was a very tiny cabin. Meaning there was no other room for you to change in privacy.

"Could you...turn around so I can change?" you asked.

"What? Oh uh yeah sorry." He spoke, his cheeks burning.

He turned around and you peeled the soaking wet clothes from you skin and put his large shirt on. It went down to the middle of your thighs.

"Alright you can look" You spoke.

He turned around and his eyes immediately darkened. They trailed up your body admiring the way his clothes fit you. You couldn't help but notice his eyes linger on your bare legs and you could feel the room get hotter but you knew it wasn't from the fire.

"What happened out there?" You finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper

"I'm not sure but I think it might have something to do with the branch? I think it saved you but we can figure that out when we get back to the Night Court tomorrow. Right now I'm just concerned with making sure you're safe and warm." Az stated firmly

You were still standing on opposite sides of the room, both unsure of what to do next. He hadn't taken his eyes off of you for even a second since turning around.

"Well I'm safe now, but how will you help me warm up?" you asked with a soft smile.

Azriel started to stalk towards you, so slowly. He had a hunger in his eyes and you felt excitement grow in your stomach.

He stopped once he was standing right in front of you, his hand playing with the hem of his shirt you were wearing.

"I had a few ideas." He growled

Before he could fully finish his last word, you leapt forward slotting your lips on his. He lifted you up as you kissed and walked over to the fire. He slowly laid you down on the floor next to it, quickly laying on top of you to continue kissing you.

The pair of you stayed like that for a while, enjoying the feel of the other's lips. Eventually you pulled apart for some much needed air.

"I'm really glad I beat Cass in rock, paper, scissors." you said with a smile before pulling Az back down to you.

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[anakinstwinklebunny]

MAFIA!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read for your own safety and comfort. Kinda violence, ani is a criminal, italian phrases/words (i do learn this language but if there's any mistake, im so sorry), mentions of drugs and gambling, ani with troublematic childhood, ITS VERY LONG!!

Mafia!Anakin who didn't know happiness until he met you. Yes, he had money, he had luxurious life but when you appeared in his life, you filled an empty hole in his heart

Mafia!Anakin who spoils you like crazy. You want something, you'll get it the same day, unless your behavior is out of place

Mafia!Anakin who keeps you away from most of his business for your own safety. He'd not forgive himself if something would happen to you because of him/his job

Mafia!Anakin who taught you how to use a gun so you could protect yourself when he's not around;

"No, again," his voice cut through your thoughts, firm and authoritative. Normally, Anakin was carefree in your presence, but teaching you how to use a gun was a different matter – he took it very seriously.

"What's wrong now?" you retorted, rolling your eyes in annoyance. You had been doing this for hours, with nothing but mistakes and failures, and your patience was wearing thin.

"Your grip...again," he said firmly, stepping closer behind you. He reached out to adjust your grip, his hands guiding yours. "You need a firmer grip, angel."

"I already have a firm grip," you retorted stubbornly.

He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle "Not as firm as it should be," he gently corrected "it's not a puppy you're holding in your hand, dolcezza." His hand wrapped around yours, adjusting your fingers and gripping them even tighter, forcing you to hold the gun properly. "This is what a firm grip looks like."

He pulled away, fixing his gaze on you again, searching for any mistakes. You tried your best to keep still, clutching the damn thing in your shaking hands. Generally, you didn't like such objects, but with Anakin, it was slightly easier. You knew he was doing this out of concern for your well-being.

"Your feet are too close together." He observed, moving in closer. "Having such a small base gives you less balance, which you don't want. You need a steady position in situations like these, angel. Otherwise, things can go very wrong."

He gently pushed his knee between your legs, widening your stance. You involuntarily stirred a little at his action, but he continued "You need to be sturdy, firm. But at the same time, flexible"

"You don't stand like that when you use a gun," you pointed out

he chuckled again, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "That's because I've been holding one ever since I was a kid, angel. You're just learning, sweetheart. You need to learn the proper stance first. We'll get to my type of stance when you have the basics nailed down."

He gently adjusted your stance, his hands steady on your hips. "Keep your feet hip-width apart, and relax your shoulders. It's all about balance and control."

Mafia!Anakin who's obviously possessive over his treasure, his pretty angel. If any man dared to look at you in a way that made you uncomfortable or made anakin question the man's behavior, anakin would make sure he would never look at you again

Mafia!Anakin who takes you to casinos which are filled with rich guys and lavishly dressed women. The place where crimes begin. He'd most of the time let you sit on his lap while he plays gambling, asking for your favorite number for his own luck

Mafia!Anakin who makes sure everyone knows that you're his and only his. Multiple marks on your neck from his lips, his hand on your waist and much more was just basics to publicly claim you

Mafia!Anakin who speaks to you in change between Italian and english, often calling you tesoro, dolcezza but also angel, baby, sweetheart

Mafia! Anakin who finds you and his close friends that he works with as his only family

Mafia!Anakin who shows you the world; takes you to different places in other countries for vacation

Mafia!Anakin who's absolutely in love with your reactions to his gifts for you; your wide smile, your sparkling with excitement eyes, your endless 'thank you' between your kisses

Mafia!Anakin who keeps you away from any drugs his friends bring since he wants to keep you away from such things

Mafia!Anakin who would throw himself on train for you. Who would take a bullet for you if he'd have to, if it meant to keep you safe and happy. Who would do anything you want. Even deprive someone of their life, since he did much worse things

Mafia!Anakin who has a habit of using new things on your delicate body;

you both laid in his king-sized bed as he worshipped your body with his plush, pink lips, gently pressing kisses against your stomach. Between his slim fingers he held the tweezers to occasionally add more radiant diamonds inside your belly button

"I love using them on you. You're just so hot," he murmured against your skin

"So irresistible," he continued with a huskier tone "Such a pretty girl..so beautiful..so gorgeous."

He moved his lips to yours, gently brushing them against each other "You would never leave me, would you?"

You shook your head defiantly, locking your gaze with his blue eyes that you could so easily drown in

"Good girl"

Mafia!Anakin who would never dare himself to treat you like he treats others. You're his favorite girl, his pretty angel and he'd be damned if he even dared himself to adress to you with such coldness or disrespect

Mafia!Anakin who loves the sound of your voice. You could just talk about nonsense, or about the book you've been reading and he'd be completely mesmerized by the sweet, gentle sound of it

Mafia!Anakin who finds you as his only source of comfort. After a rough day all he'll do is clinging to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, savouring your scent. In your presence he could easily calm down, easily forget about the earlier events, at least for some time.

Mafia!Anakin who has a heart of ice but for you he'd burn the world

Mafia!Anakin who killed a man with the nearest object he could find (a book) just because he dared himself to touch you

Mafia!Anakin who hates to argue with you but when it happens, it always ends in the bed with rough love making

Mafia!Anakin who made love to you in every room, every small or bigger place in your shared penthouse

Mafia!Anakin who sometimes, if you're okay with it or insist yourself, takes out his frustration and indignation on you in bed;

"they're just so stupid" he growled in anger and annoyance, letting it all pour on his rough thrust "They can't do one thing correctly.. I swear to god if they mess up another goddamn thing, I'm going to kill them all. Every. Single. One of them"

"they're so useless. So pathetic." he leaned to kiss your neck "They can't do anything right, can't follow a single simple order to save their lives"

Each thrust in and out seemed to go even deeper, hitting this sweet spot that made you see those delightful stars as moans slipped through your mouth. Your eyes kept fighting to stay open, to see this desperate, awfully beautiful expression on his face. This sweaty curls, all messy and getting to his sharp blue eyes, this clenched jaw, his muscles that ripped and were, especially now, looking more defined and flexible than earlier. Gosh, the sight was enough to bring you over the edge

His eyes turned more soft, his own thrusts becoming more gentle. He was proud of himself, making a complete mess out of you and every time he loved to see you like this. All breathless and with marks all over your skin

"But at least I have you to help me release all this pent up anger.. you're so good at it, tesoro. So good for me...Only you can undo me, angioletto" he whispered, his breath growing ragged with each movement of his hips. "Only you can save me from my anger"

Mafia! Anakin who is a switch; yes, he can be a dominant one but he can easily turn into a submissive boy from only you being on top of him;

"Ani..it's so big.." you mewl, trying to adjust to his size in a new position

your words made him let out a low, pleased moan. He couldn't leave his pretty girl all helpless now, could he? His hands roamed towards your hips to help you move on his lenght "You flatter me, principessa" he groaned "Feels too big for you, does it? Too much?"

As much as his words could be true, you didn't want to admit it. You didn't want to stop it "mh--no..just.. perfect" with his help you lifted and slammed down on his cock

Your actions caused him to throw his head back and dig his long fingers to your soft flesh

"you feel so good..." he mumbled. Seeing you accustom to his size, he moved his hands through your body, feeling the need to squeeze, grope and touch every spot

"Dio, you're gonna be the death of me..." He whispered, driving himself deeper into you to feel more friction

Feeling his member pulsing against your walls only gave you another reason to tease him more, to bring him over the edge in the most pleasant way (for you)

"Oh gods..." he mumbled, his teeth gritted as he felt you increasing your movements "You're gonna...drive me... insane, c-cazzo.."

"you're gonna be a good boy and fill me up?" you moaned, watching his screaming in pleasure face

A shiver run down his body after he had heard your breathless words. There was something about seeing you turn from a sweet girl to a taking charge woman that absolutely turned him on more than he would like to admit

"Y-yeah.." he panted, his eyes opening to fix on her face, "I'll be a good boy for you, I'll fill you up... I'll do anything you say... anything to please you, bella"

Mafia!Anakin who goes absolutely crazy when you surprise him with new lingeries, costumes for cosplays; it all drove him insane

Mafia!Anakin who gives you the experience of three times in a row (making you finish for the three times);

his lips gently pressed against your neck, going up to whisper words in your ear "You tell me if you need to stop. You're so tired, I don't want to go too far and hurt you, ok?"

And you, all weary and sensitive after all what happened, could only nod in response. When his lips were going down your body, to your specific spot, your hand went down to grab at his curls, tugging on some strands around your fingers as he finally wrapped his lips around your clit-all with his eyes on yours

"You'll be walking with a limp tomorrow, mio piccolo coniglio" he mumbled between your flesh

Even if you were already tired, the shockwaves of pleasure went through your body, causing your moans to get louder

"Ani.." you whined breathlessly

The sound of his name leaving your lips made his entire body shudder. He loved the way you'd moan, whine and cry out his name. It was like a drug to him, and he craved it, craved the way you sounded and the way you tasted "Gods I love you" he breathed against your core

"the dearest god..." you moaned as his tongue lapped at your folds, making you arch your back

"You taste so good, sweetheart..can't have enough of you, never can.." he speeded his movements which was enough to make you scream

Mafia!Anakin who often talks to you about his traumatic childhood which obviously made a huge impact on his future

Mafia!Anakin who's basically a criminal; wouldn't hesitate to kill someone if that person was in his way

Mafia!Anakin who finds comforting in teaching you Italian. Just loves hearing you speak that language, even if you may suck at it

I've never really thanked you guys for being here, with me. For all your support, for all the lovely sweet comments. For reaching out to me in my inbox/dms..thank you for 301 followers! Really, love all of you with all my heart. Sending big hugs and kisses!

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune @divineani @erosmutt @emmaloo21 @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @fuckmyskywalker

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[yzzart]

hii love!! i'm new to your work but i've fallen deeply in love with your writing and your way of writing Tom 😭😭 i absolutely love the actress!au stories so i thought about one myself: where tom and reader are already in a established, public relationship; and they attend a gala or some kind of event together, and maybe one of them had to host or talk in front of the guests and they keep mentioning and talking about each other. and the fans are going crazy after that interaction 💘 thank youuu

"A peculiar moment."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader.

summary: at an event and being the host, Tom interviews the first person of the night, you.

word count: 1.452!

“You look so beautiful, Y/n!”

A mix of voices asking, clamoring for photos, autographs or at least a four-second attention exclaimed in your ears and of course, echoed throughout the environment. — Also, accompanied by several flashes, one stronger than the other, from cameras; it bothered you a little, but nothing too profound.

After all, besides being used to it, this had already become a routine for you.

Walking, carefully and holding a small part of your dress so you don't trip in your steps, to a large one that separated the fans from a part of the carpet, you are greeted by more screams, compliments and smiles. — Along with several photos of you, posters for "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" and other films that featured you, and some notebooks looking for her autograph. — Doing your best, you tried, completely, to pay attention to everyone.

There came a time when you needed to draw on a fan's arm, because she warned you that she was going to get a tattoo; a completely surprising request for you. — There were a lot of people, so paying attention to all of them was a very difficult job, but you did your best to welcome and talk to them. — Also, thanking everyone for the support and so much love.

After a specific period of time, which was a little long, preparations for future brief interviews had already begun, along with the photo sessions; the cameras were already recording and capturing everything that passed in front of their lenses. — A good number of the interviewers were already organized, talking and interviewing some people and some were talking to the event employees.

The environment was magnificently exquisite and dazzling; flowers of different colors, but most of them reddish in pigmentation, possibly intended to match the red carpet and the charming decorations that were present. — Everything was impeccable. — And the lights, lighting matching the color palettes.

Continuing to walk along the carpet, and being careful with your steps in your dress, you greet the photographers, quickly answering questions about your well-being and requesting attention for their respective cameras. — While posing, smiling, in a gratifying way, you looked for a certain person who was scheduled to be present at the event.

Perhaps, it could be considered a little rude as your eyes were roaming, freely and lightly, across the large hallway as the flashes captured your every movement. — Well, just maybe. — But your chest was anxious, more than usual, during your silent and barely disguised search.

"Here, Y/n!" — An unknown voice passed through your ears, removing your thoughts from your attention and consideration, and the owner of the request waved holding his camera; trying to attract your focus and succeeding. — "That!" — His small smile of gratitude became visible.

Even though he directed a smile accompanied by a pose for the camera, fulfilling the photographer's request, your eyes remained on his objective, but in a discreet and not so flashy way. — In each flash, you moved your eyes to the side and observed person by person. — Until, instantly, your eye sockets collided with the image of a familiar person. — He turned around quickly, and finally his eyes met yours.

Holding a microphone, which had a marking saying "host", and standing next to the camera that was in front of him, Tom watched your photo session with a proud smile. — The recording, which was live, did not focus on his entire smile, just a part of it. — He wasn't just watching, he was admiring, contemplating you; he always did it and could never get tired of it.

Tom received an exclusive invitation, considered splendid by you, to host the event; a large and responsible role and mission, too. — It was a great emotion, at the same time you received it, your boyfriend immediately told you; and, of course, you were the first to know about it. — Therefore, one of his fundamentalist roles included interviewing the guests.

Blyth was nervous, that was obvious, but also confident; perhaps, due to the fact that you would be the first person he would interview that night.

Your genuine, radiant smile went through the photos and stood out among them, making them all magnificent, and already being planned to be posted. — And the photographers were more than satisfied. — Before leaving and heading towards the interview point, you moved your head towards some cameras and said goodbye to them.

The small point, which resembled a small stage, where the host's interviews began was not far from where you were; Just a few steps and you could walk without any problems or worries about your dress. — Something you were grateful for, mentally.

It was only when you were going up, on one of the steps of the small stage, that you needed a little help. — Your boyfriend offered his hand towards you, which you quickly accepted, and carefully directed you onto the platform. — And yet another camera focused on you, now, broadcasting everything live.

"Look who we have here." — Remembering the microphone in his hands, Tom brought it to her mouth, at an appropriate distance. — "Good night, y/n!" — He tilted his head, with an inviting smile paying attention to the sparkle in his eyes while directing the microphone towards you.

"Good night, Tom!" — You answered. — "How are you, darling?" —Imitating your gesture, your head is tilted, delicately awaiting his answer.

"Better now and you?" — Tom raised his eyebrows, uttering a answer that was perhaps bold but sincere; and there was no trace of concern, even in front of the cameras.

"I can say the same." — Your eyes roamed to a small point that cried out for your attention, the necklace he wore; the one where your initial was carved. — It was the third time Tom had worn it in public; an action that enchanted you. — "I can actually say the same."

"On a night as beautiful as this, did you come with someone?" — He decided to play, relax with you, acting as if your relationship wasn't public; you laughed, understanding what it was about.

"Oh, unfortunately not!" — Your ears heard a brief laugh from the people working behind the cameras. — "However, i met a guy, by pure coincidence, who has your name and looked like you, but i lost track of him." — Anyone would be impressed by how quickly you created that story, Tom thought it was funny. — "He's an incredible man, in fact, a special man to me."

"From your words, i can see that." — Your boyfriend didn't seem embarrassed at all, he was appreciating your words, even though they were short and also coming from a small joke; Tom had forgotten where he was, in fact. — "I know him?" — You turned your eyes upward, pretending to be thoughtful.

"I don't think so, but it should." — A corner of your lower lips were nibbled by your teeth. — "I feel like he's definitely a charming man in my life." — You shook your head, confirming your words, losing the meaning of the little joke. — "The only downside is that i lost track of him."

"I'm sure you'll find him soon, my dear." — Blyth assured with a beautiful smile on her beautiful face, which was probably accompanied by a reddish tone on her cheeks. — "You're perfect, my love." — In just a few seconds, the joke was put aside; Tom couldn't resist, much less you. — "Always is."

"Just like you, dear." — You approached of the oldest, subtly placing your hand on his arm and placing a kiss on his cheek; it was a little slow, but not so slow as to complain, and Tom would never dare make a complaint. — "See you soon?" — You referred to the end of the interviews.

"Of course, love." — He replied holding your hand; noticing the only ring on your finger, the one he gifted you. — "It looks like someone is going to be reunited with a certain companion." — Tom commented, looking briefly at the camera with one eyebrow raised and helping you get down from the small platform.

Tom admired and followed your steps with his eyes, contemplating your sweet smile when greeting people; If he had the chance, he would spend his entire time watching you. — And even forgetting that it was being recorded and broadcast to thousands of people.

Now, it seemed that there was a mark, so soft and delicate, of a kiss with lipstick present on his cheek, it was not very visible, only if it came very close to his face. — The camera managed to capture and notice the small mark, bringing it into focus.

And your fans brought immense focus to the point of commenting about it on twitter, causing an insane moment for them.

[murdrdocs]

i feel like mike is ALWAYS so grumpy,

him with his obnoxious sister and girlfriend is just so canon to me sigh

oh he absolutely is (also i blacked out and wrote 600 words of pure delusion ??? im so sorry i rlly have a problem omg)

first off, sleeping sans pills is a little hard for him for the first month or so. it’s hard for him to fall asleep and stay asleep, so he spends a chunk of the night just laying and staring at the ceiling where his nebraska poster used to be, waiting for sleep to find him instead of searching for it. when he actually gets up in the morning, his body just feels like he’d gotten hit by a bus, evidence of his restless night showing up all over the place.

and abby, as kind as she is, just doesn’t know when to shut up. mikes pouring them both a bowl of cereal and abby just continues talking about any and every single thing under the sun, completely oblivious to the agony her older brother is in. mike tries to be patient, he hums between his yawns as he fills her bowl with milk, he blinks lazily at her as she keeps talking. but at a certain point enough is enough and the cereal is a little stale and mike was really looking forward to a nice bowl of cereal to give him energy for the day but everything is shit right now so he ends up politely (at least as best as he can) asking abby to stop talking.

he thinks that by the time you’re supposed to come over later in the afternoon, he’ll feel better. he doesn’t have work until a few hours after breakfast, and he uses the time to take a shitty nap on the couch. a nap that’s disrupted by the doorbell ringing entirely too loud, followed by abby’s excited screech which alerts him of your arrival. he’s happy to see you, but he’s tired as shit and now he has to go work a dead end job and he can barely manage to paint an appreciative smile on his face when you walk him to his car and promise that you and abby will have fun.

by the time he gets back after work, the sun has set and it’s a few hours past traditional dinner time. the lights in the house are still on and when he enters he hears a movie playing. he’s so tired he only wants to take a shower and sleep but he knows you’ll refuse to let him do just that until he’s eaten, which ends up with all three of you at the table, you and abby having dessert while mike slowly makes his way through dinner.

he’s nodding off the entire time, and he’s sure he would’ve knocked out face first in his slice of pizza if you and abby weren’t talking his head off. you bounce off of each other like you’re playing an exciting match of ping pong, mikes head going back and forth as he attempts to follow a conversation with no real connections.

and to make matters worse, you’re both on mikes case, too, cracking jokes and being far too concerned and it’s too much for his tired head and his grumpiness just multiplies tenfold until he takes a final bite out of his pizza and storms down the hall to take a shower.

(of course, you find him when he’s slipping a shirt over his head after his shower in his room, hair dripping onto the cotton and flinging onto the carpet when he turns to look at you. he apologizes, tells you about how sleepy he’s been, and kisses you good night. but he’s still a Grumpy Guy, despite the chronic exhaustion)

[theastrical]

genshin men confessing their feelings for you

diluc, kaeya, alhaitham, zhongli, childe x reader

DILUC

diluc has always been keeping an eye on you for these past few months, either from having you as his now co worker at the tavern or…just by you existing. Not to mention that you guys are best friends and have been caught in the middle of everything in everywhere back when you guys were young…so working with him as your boss feels weird-although it doesn’t hide your excitement to be with him.

You won’t wonder or bother, since it hasn’t given you an answer around certain question that pop ups. So you continued your job per usual-You’re currently serving some customer and cleaning the cups, also the cigars bar that has been rusty since the dawn of man by this point. Diluc is beside you, making mocktails and cocktails for the rest of the customer.

Later-“Can we talk for a moment, outside..?” He whisper while you’re in the middle of cleaning the last cup; your head immediately charmed up by his question. His eyes look at yours, deeply-memorising yours, Hoping to get your spare minute. “Sure! What’s up?”, your reply seems to be a turn on, his shoulder gone straight and he looks more lifelike than before.

He went outside from the tavern and look at you, straight up, no talk, just…dreaming, wondering if you would ever say yes to him. “Look, it’s a bad timing but i..just couldn’t help it…” he paused. Looking at your eyes one more time. “….would you be delighted if i called you mine..?” He asked you nervously-you know that voice-he’s scared of rejection. And you’re scared if he actually loves you back…because you do-you realise, you loved him even tenfold than how younger you would..and with some pause between you both-your voice a bit tender, shaky, and scared. “Yes, i would love to diluc..”

KAEYA

Kaeya has always been such a teaser. You guys meet each other ever since you joined the knights of favonious-not as a knight though, you thought that’ll be too much of a hassle, but as a secretary. It’s not the best job, but they paid handsomely-with a burden as thick as a law book.

Kaeya would come and play, just visiting you in your office deliberately-searching for your antics to play with. At some point, it’ll be your…feelings or favorite things-but that’s okay, you always tolerate kaeya. You’ve never rejected him. Because deep down, you enjoyed being kaeya’s….play buddy-no, more than that.

Before going home, kaeya would usually play or spend time with you, especially when it’s raining-that’s the opposite for today. No sight of him. Just..plain old looking chair with nobody on that view. You prepare the files back on the shelf until you suddenly heard the creak of the door being pushed. “shit i’m wet from the rain…urgh…now the flowers are we—“ when he saw you all confused-he immediately excuse himself to “cough”-to restart as per his dictionary.

“My bad…uhm…soooooo are you going ho-“ “no” “oh ok sorry uhm…right..let me just get into it.” He immediately get to you, with his body all wet and his hair looking like a shrivelled wet cat, he gets the wet flower to your chest and “i like it better if you’re mine, so please take the flower if you’re willing to be one..” he smiles like a child, an innocent child that doesn’t know how all of this flutters your heart cohesively. So you take his flower and nod with a small smile…”sure capt..” he replied with a small peck on your cheek. “thanks cutie”

ALHAITHAM

alhaitham knows you well-he hopes you do as well. Since he has been preparing a certain sentence of asking you to be his for almost 5 days now. He’s nervous-which is weird for a guy who can fight as if his rent with kaveh has been due. But alhaitham is alhaitham, this man’s pocker face means the world is in calm-but internally, HIS WORLD is in torture from all of the overthinking session he has of you.

Today is your first preparation of your last project of the semester and you’re currently trying to reach out to your professor about the project you’ve made in hope of an approval-which turn out to be alhaitham’s agenda to persuade you softly but surely-by asking the professor to immediately get you an approval-you sure did get one just by having him near you-which is great but at the same time, your heart is on cloud nine just by having him help you directly; which also means that alhaitham’s agenda is working.

When you were off dreaming-He immediately holds your palm-looking at your eyes then-“follow me..” you both run upstair as he take your hand in his. Gently overlapping, in order to save place. After you both arrived, He suddenly gives you…something related to your last project, the analysis and journalism you needed.

“Thought you might need it…also..” he pauses for a moment before he takes your hand again. Gently cupping it. “If you need me more, then just be mine”..he swiftly says it, finally the nervousness has long gone and now enter the anxiety-waiting for your— “i need you everytime at this moment alhaitham, thank you and…sure…l-let’s be together..!” Your optimistic voice break his raging anxiety.

ZHONGLI

being his tea partner is so much more than a privilege, it’s a blessing by the gods. To give such a man to your pawn, to have that man listen and talk to you whilst you just enjoy the sight. He would always serves you the cup of tea first despite being the older one in this friendship-yet here he is, trying to serve your third cup of tea today.

You both are currently playing cards-this time, unlike any other card games you played before, he makes a challenge, the one who win will have to spoilt out some questions to the loser. “Are you fine with such a rule?” He asked, his voice luring you into his fine demeanor just like that and you wished every morning you’ll hear him greet you. “of course, as long as there’s no money related game, since i’m the epitome of broke”-you joke. He laughs quietly. “Surely not, that’s against the law and i would rather be arrested with a criminal, not a friend.”

You chuckled, he has a humor of an old man but his body is as fresh as a youngster-he’s weird and you wishes he can be more weirder when you’re near…a sign of being comfortable. He shuffles the card and gives it to you. You both played quite slowly, enjoying the pace as you both give each other some comments. “How come you’re choosing that card [name]…” he chuckles. “Why not! It’s my deck of cards..” …”oh? Hahaha..a bit feisty are we?” He pauses and-“done, i win.”

You were shocked. That man easily beat you as if you’re just a mosquito that happened to be crushed by his own hand. You’re a bit confused-at some point you can only sighed, until he starts the conversation for the challenge. “say..i would like to have a partner-a relationship partner, somebody who i…enjoy the company of..” he explains it as your heart drops knowing he’s about to announce his own crush which is in her mind-not her-never her. “And i think it’s you, [name], would you like to accompany me and be mine perchance?” He says that softly and with a smile. Suddenly your heart feels like it has just popped out. “Yes please..?” He hears that and laughs…“Hahah no needd for please, thank you, i love you..”

CHILDE

you’re a nurse who-somehow become childe’s caretaker. He struggles on keeping himself intact so he would always need your help on medicating him at certain points, visiting your clinic especially after breaking his bones or bruising up his knees after fight.

So every single day, in hopes of both of you meeting each other, there some certain wishes you guys can meet outside of being a nurse and outside of being a fatui who continues to suffer through their workloads. But childe doesn’t want to just meet you, he wants to be WITH you. It’s obvious enough for his co workers. He wants more than meeting you every single day in hope of you medicating him, he just wants you to be there, to tell him “get well soon” with love and not in regards of your passion.

This thought lingers upon him even in a heated battle, but one thing for sure, he will survive this, even with a huge scratch, he will survive in order to confess his feelings rightfully. He was stuck between death and small chance of survival at this point, but childe is fully convinced, he will survive for the sake of you or else he’ll curse himself.

He did. He finally did it. Although watching you cry over his body is not something he would ever like to memorise..but it’s the part where he realised, you care for him way more than he thinks. So without further-ado, not wanting to lose his consciousness after everything, he said it right to your face, “i love you, i really do, i survive this….for us.”

[ssahotchnerr]

ALSO ALSO ALSO, Aaron keeping a pair of readers fuzzy socks in his go-bag for reader when a case is rough/they’re in a super cold area/just because 🤭🤭🤭

perfect pair

SCREAMING i'm setting this in the alaska episode it's the first thing my mind went to <33 cw; bau!reader, established relationship, fluff!!!!!

even with the burning fire going, countless chills continuously rushed through your body; you were shaking in place.

upon receiving word the case was in alaska, the customary temperature had been an afterthought. sure, you had packed (some of) your winter trappings; long sleeves, a heavy lined coat, boots. but you hadn't thought to layer, pack a set of gloves or a hat, wool socks rather than your usual cotton ones. rather, the excitement of purely being able to say you're going to alaska, of all places, had taken priority.

even today as you were getting dressed, you managed to talk aaron into lending you one of his favored quarter-zips. 'talk into' was a loose term, he hadn't needed the persuasion; you asked, he immediately accepted - never the one to deny you wearing his clothing, or the extra, provided warmth.

on the bright side, however, you had been hunkered down at the inn with penelope, researching the residents of the small town and not needing to brace the cold. but you might as well been, the heat coming through the air vents wasn't nearly enough, especially when the door frequently opened and the cold air drifted in. the fire was slowly weakening, and just thinking about the cold, made you freezing. the lingering frigidness was numbing your feet within your shoes, your fingers were just as biting - the bitterness was painful.

you were counting down the minutes until the day ended, eager to be warm in the comfort of bed, curled up with aaron 'the furnace' hotchner - the best perk of minimal rooms available and having to double-up. the two of you didn't typically share quarters while on the job, wanting to uphold professionalism, so this was a welcomed treat.

but when aaron had entered (and brought yet another rush of crisp air with him) to regroup with you and penelope, to discuss findings that would contribute to the profile, and hopefully narrow your search down, all he had to do was take one look of you shivering.

aaron walked behind the couch you were seated at, his hand finding your shoulder and giving it a squeeze hello, before heading up the stairs. at the gesture, you were quick to look up and acknowledge him, giving him a soft smile before your attention returned to penelope's screen.

aaron came back down a minute or two later, lightly tossing something onto your lap. it landed softly, but you still jumped a smidge, taking you by surprise.

you were met with your polka-dot fuzzy socks, a pair you hadn't seen in your drawer quite in a while, actually. your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity, grabbing the soft sherpa material and turning the pair over, analyzing as if you've never seen them before.

"you had these?" your eyes shot back up to aaron, arching an eyebrow in an accusatory, but playful, manner. the ends of your lips tugged upwards in a smile, your heart warming.

"given the circumstances, i'm sure you're glad i did." aaron's face matched your cheeky expression, a light smirk on his face. but he dropped the teasing demeanor, his gentleness returning, "i packed them into my go-bag a while ago. i figured they come in handy in one way or another, at some point. for comfort, warmth, when your ice cold feet touch my leg at night." his eyes smiled at you, and you couldn't help but grin.

aaron's immense, loving look was enough to melt everything in you, physically warming you. the sensation started in the middle of your chest, fanning out to the rest of your body, leaving you toasty and almost giddy.

forget the socks, layers, fireplace - all you needed was aaron.

"god that's adorable." penelope chimed in, who had been listening so quietly you'd forgotten she was there, a slight whine present in her voice, "never thought i'd be crying over a pair of socks, but here we are."

she turned back to her laptop, but her fingers paused above the keyboard, as thought came to her. her gaze drifted back towards you and aaron, a tickled glint in her eyes. "wait, i take that back. you two are the most, adorable pair."

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Liebevoll

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1k TYPE: Humor, Established relationship, some fluff WARNING(S): Kaiser is a cringe loser, my bad german makes a comeback (I was always on that damn phone in german class)

Since you’ve been trying to learn German (you gave some stupid excuse about how you ‘want to know what shit he talks about you when he thinks you don’t understand him’), a golden opportunity to mess with you has appeared in front of Kaiser.

Obviously being that your brainwaves aren’t completely inactive, you knew not to ask him and instead try a language app first because he’s not to be trusted.

Not possible on Kaiser’s watch, though. Nuh uh. What do you need an app for when you have a boyfriend who’s perfectly capable of lying to you for his amusement?

Your phone was dealt with (snatched and tucked in Kaiser’s back pocket, where you’d rather wretch than reach) three exercises in… So you’re still about as clueless as in the beginning. Now, Kaiser is subjecting you to his ‘tutoring’.

“When someone holds the door for you, you bow and say ‘Ich hoffe, du wirst von einem Auto angefahren.’ It means thank you, by the way.”

“Uh, that’s too long to mean thank you.” You look at him like he’s forcing you to say tongue twisters, suspicion clear in your expression.

Kaiser finds your wariness and lack of understanding really cute, mainly because he’s a condescending asshole. He reaches out to try and move your mouth as if that’ll somehow assist you in pronouncing it, but you pry his fingers away from your face before he can reach. It makes him snicker.

After a few tries, you get through that one. Then Kaiser forces you through the ordeal of sounding out that string of bullshit multiple times ‘just to make sure you really memorized it’.

Next, Kaiser says, “When you want the tab at a restaurant, you should say, ‘Kannst du auf meinen Teller scheißen?’”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. Why do you think you know more than me? It’s my first language.” He smiles at you in a wannabe suave manner.

Reluctantly, you repeat it back to him, more than once.

His gaslighting is almost becoming convincing with his insistence on you retaining this information as if you’re actually gaining knowledge here.

But you decide to take everything with a grain of salt, anyway, no matter how compelling Kaiser’s acting may be. You’ll try to search these up later. At least if you can manage to spell them based on what you heard.

The nonsense continues on like this:

“When a guy compliments you, you should reply with ‘Sag das noch einmal, damit ich dich ausweiden kann.’ It means thank you veeeeeeery much, by the way.”

“Does everything mean thank you according to you?!”

“Aww, that’s a really cute grumpy face you’re making.”

“Don’t dodge the question.”

Kaiser stares at you expectantly, scooting closer towards you and leaning in, his face inching closer towards yours. Disturbed (not swayed or affected at all, might you add!), you decide to comply.

He wonders what other stupid shit he should make you say. Even for a joyless and miserable person like Kaiser, it’s kinda difficult to stifle his laughter. Of course, someone as delusional as him would find entertainment in his own antics, but he’s doing a good job on not letting it show.

“After paying at the supermarket, you tell the cashier ‘Es gibt eine Leiche im Pausenraum’ and walk off immediately. It’s a social norm.”

What a shameless liar. You’re curious about what he’s making you say though, since he’s still not reacting when you repeat it back to him during this whole farce. The mischievous rat’s game is on point.

You continue to go along with it, though, since your intrigue is also making you want to learn them all so you can actually look them up after all this. In fact, you drop asking him about it regardless, pretending as if you let down your guard and believe him now.

This leads Kaiser to being more comfortable, testing the waters in a different direction, assuming you won’t think anything of it.

“You should greet me in German every time you see me as practice,” he says. “With something like ‘Du bist sehr schön.’”

Kaiser thinks he’ll think it funny because you rarely compliment him, but he finds himself liking it a little once you repeat it to him. Then he makes you say it again and again, aiming less to deceive you into thinking he’s dedicated to your linguistic education and more so for his satisfaction.

But Kaiser ignores this strange happiness. He tricked you into saying it, so it’s whatever. Doesn’t mean anything. In fact, he’d be a stupid microbe to dwell on it.

Once he strays down that part, though, it keeps escalating.

“Mit dir ist alles besser." - That’s probably the opposite of how you feel, so Kaiser finds some kind of humor in it conceptually. Then hearing is too much to his liking again.

“In deinen Armen fühle ich mich geborgen." - You’d never think something like that, god forbid you utter it out loud… What’s wrong with him? It’s supposed to be comedic. He’s pranking you! Punking you. You’re a gullible idiot!!! He like, got you so good or whatever.

"Du machst mich glücklich.”

When you parrot that one back to him with more ease, since it’s more on the simple side, Kaiser stares into your eyes with a kind of seriousness you find disconcerting. You expect him to demand you say it again so he can be sure you remember it, though the frequency of this request died down more and more with each phrase you spoke.

The silence stretches. You continue to gaze at each other with an almost bizarre confusion between you two.

Is he making you say things he yearns to hear deep down? Or is he finding an excuse to tell you things he’s reluctant to admit? Both options are pathetic and beneath him. And he also really can’t tell which one it is, either.

“Can you say it again?” asks Kaiser, more tender in tone.

“Du machst mich glücklich?”

You’re not a very affectionate couple. It’s to your surprise that Kaiser wraps his arms around you with tentativeness, like he’s skirting around something, then presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. Despite your puzzlement, you return the embrace, pulling him closer.

Now you’ve got to find out what it was to warrant all that from him for sure. Guess you’ll be utilizing speech to text later…

Ich hoffe, du wirst von einem Auto angefahren = I hope you get ran over by a car Kannst du auf meinen Teller scheißen? = Can you take a shit on my plate? Sag das noch einmal, damit ich dich ausweiden kann = Say that again so I can disembowel you Es gibt eine Leiche im Pausenraum = There’s a dead body in the break room Du bist sehr schön = You’re very beautiful Mit dir ist alles besser = Everything’s better with you In deinen Armen fühle ich mich geborgen = I feel safe in your arms Du machst mich glücklich = You make me happy I was writing a WIP with a premise I've never done before, but it got difficult to write whihc annoyed me, so I wrote this which is something that ive quite literally done before instead #StayStagnant

[coichii]

101 DEGREES FARENHEIT - LEE KNOW

pairing - bf!minho ♥︎ fem!uni student!reader

genre: sickfic, angst, and comfort

word count: 1.9k

warnings: cursing, unhealthy habits, self deprecating behavior & thoughts.

A/N : i made this while tiptoeing on the edge of sickness and feeling well..😭 also originally was not going to be his birthday fic but uhm.. i lost motivation….

You grab a sip of your water for what feels like the 1000th time tonight.

Somehow, throughout the day, you had picked up a cold. You knew there was some strain of flu spreading throughout your school, but man this one spread quicker than ever.

There’s no time for that though, especially not with midterms coming up right around the corner. So with heavy eyes and a sore throat that you swear is getting worse within a matter of seconds, you continue studying.

You didn’t live on campus. In fact, you lived in a small apartment with your boyfriend, Minho. It was close enough to both your university and his company, so it worked out perfectly. Not having to deal with pesky, disgusting roommates and getting to live with the love of your life instead was the dream.

The sound of keys ringing and the door cracking open was enough to pull you out of your thoughts. Your lover had just came home.

You smile gently as you hear his quiet footsteps grow ever closer to the door, heart bubbling with same excitement as it had when you first moved in. The feeling never went away, not even a little bit.

“Hi baby.” He says, walking in to your shared bedroom and sitting down on the bed behind you. “Still working this late?”

“Well yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” You reply. You wonder if your voice gave your illness away, because you can see his eye brows furrowing as you speak. “Are you sick y/n?”

“I just came down with it. My throat hurts, that’s all. I may not even be sick.” You try not to worry him, lying as you speak. If you’re being honest, your throat hurts like a bitch. But you know him well enough to know that if he knows how bad your feeling, he’ll focus all his energy on making you feel 110% and push off practically everything else.

He hums in response, eyes still searching yours before he’s moving to stand up. “Let me make you some tea then hmm? that should make you feel better.”

“Are you sure? It’s still super later Minho.” You respond, but you know it’s a loosing battle. He could be stubborn when he needed to be, and he is when it comes to you and your health.

“It’s fine. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of you. Do you want chamomile?” He asked, not taking no for an answer. You smile as you feel yourself giving in, eyes feeling even more agonizingly heavy.

“Please” you groan out, and he’s leaving to the kitchen. You feel grateful for him as the day and pain catches up to you, finally deciding to close your textbooks and change for the night. Thankfully, you had already showered and brushed your teeth, so there was no worrying about that.

You grab the book you had been reading from your nightstand as you tuck your self into bed, silently waiting for the tea your boyfriend had prepared.

Even though you put up a slight fight about it, you can’t help but enjoy when he treats you like this. You love when he takes care of you, it makes you feel special and loved. It fills you with a special kind of warmth that can’t be described in words. Just pure love.

Just as the pain in your throat felt as if it was getting impossibly worse, your boyfriend came in with a steaming cup of hot chamomile tea, placing it down on the coaster next to you. “It’s really hot so be careful okay? I’m going to go shower now.” He dotes on you, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Ok, thank you so much baby. I’ll probably be sleep by the time you’re done.” And he hums in response, giving you one last kiss on the cheek before heading to the bathroom, clothes in hand.

The tea does a good job with soothing your throat, the sweet, honey taste dripping down your throat perfectly remedying the itchy, scratchy feeling.

You decide to finally get some shut eye as midnight comes around quicker than you thought, placing your book back on the nightstand and trying to get comfortable.

Key word : Trying

It’s hard, especially with the small cough that creeped its way into your throat all of a sudden. It’s keeping you up, the hacking noise disrupting the peace your body needed to finally fall asleep.

It takes longer than you wish it did, but eventually the tea is able to coax your body into sleep, eyes finally getting the rest they desperately needed.

Moments later, Minho joins you in the bedroom, clad in nothing but breezy pajama pants. Getting into bed with you and snuggling close, he knows you’re asleep, but he can’t help but begin to pepper small kisses upon face and hold you tighter.

“Get better, my love.” He drifts off, falling into sleep alongside you.

And you wish you could say you did.

You woke up smoldering hot but shivering at the same time. You look at your clock, groaning as the bright light amplified the small headache that had spread through your entire face. 10 am. You’re usually up by seven.

You silently say a quick “thank you prayer” that you don’t have classes on Wednesdays. Taking a day off of school during exam season is a whole death wish. But with how things are progressing, you’re not sure if you can even go tomorrow without getting 9-1-1 called.

You open your phone, groaning again as the light messes with your headache, but reading who the message is from still causes a weak smile to take form on your face.

—

new message from “linoo❤️🐰”

linoo❤️🐰: Good morning y/n.

linoo❤️🐰: Are you feeling better?

linoo❤️🐰 : I know you don’t have classes today, so you should take it easy.

linoo❤️🐰 : If you want to call or need me to come over, tell me. You know I won’t mind.

you : hey, I just woke up❤️ im fine though.

he texts back within less than a minute

linoo❤️🐰 : your symptoms are gone?

you : well no… they’re worse. but I’m fine !! i promise

linoo❤️🐰 : you’ll call me if it gets worse right?

you : yes :) I promise

linoo❤️🐰 : okay, have a good day. I love you

you : I love you 2 !!

—

You sigh as you place your phone down, mentally deciding to go take a shower. Surely that’ll fix the headache right?

Your head spins as you get out of bed, the world looking blurry and dizzy with specs of gray. It’s hard to walk.

“How the actual fuck did it get this bad so quickly?” You mumble to yourself, stumbling towards the bathroom and turning on the water.

The steam helps a little bit with the tension in your head and the congestion of your nose, but it’s not doing much. Atleast not as much as you need. Your throat was still burning for some relief, and the dizziness hasn’t stopped either. You’re thinking if it gets any worse, you’re probably going to have to go to the hospital.

The shower itself helps a little bit more with alleviating the pain, the warm water cascading down your skin and warming it up inside. But you can still feel it.

You can still feel the pounding of the headache you swear is forming into a migraine practically tearing your head apart, your throat is still screaming you for something warm, and to make matters worse, you think you’re developing nausea too.

Yup, definitely the flu

The flu never stopped anyone though, and midterms are still right around the corner. So with a dry cough and constant sneeze, you were popping advil, and taking a seat at your desk.

“A little sickness can’t me from doing this” you thought to yourself, but it was much harder than you thought.

Suddenly the sun had already set. The moonlight creeps its way inside through the slits in the blinds, but you hadn’t seemed to notice. You didn’t notice the way your eyes were blurred with unshed tears either. Your mind was absolutely buried in the thought of midterms.

I’m not prepared. Im going to fail. I’m a disappointment. I’m so useless, one fucking cough and I end up like this? I don’t even know why I try anym-

“Y/n!” Minho’s voice cuts through the mess swirling through your brain. You look over to where the voice came from and you swear you can see his face crumble the moment he looks at you.

To be fair, you hadn’t looked in the mirror since you took your shower in the morning, but Minho saw something different. He saw disheveled hair, droopy and tired eyes, beads of sweat drooping down your shivering body, and most importantly, tears.

“You told me you would call me if it got worse.” He bitterly spoke, and you felt that cut right through your heart. “I-It didn’t. I’m fine min-“ but he’s cutting you off immediately.

“You’re not fine y/n. You’re literally crying!” He booms, and you can’t help but feel extremely guilty. “Have you ate today? Or at least took medicine?!”

“Uhm, once at like n-nine. Look min I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for not calling you when I was supposed to. B-but my studying. If I stop, I’m not going to make it. I can’t fail min.”

His expression softens at your admission, eyebrows de-furrowing and eyes being replaced by compassion instead of anger and hurt as he walks closer towards you.

“Baby, you don’t need to push yourself so hard. I get it, I love that you want to study. But baby, is it really worth your life?”

Crack

“I know it means a lot, but so do you and your mental health. You can’t push yourself this hard and expect good results. You need to rest.”

Crack

“I love you so much. I can’t stand seeing you like this. Please let me take care of you okay? That’s all I want to do for you love.”

Shatter

You’re sobbing all of a sudden, burrowing your head in his sweatshirt as tears pour as of your eyes like faucets. It’s making your head hurt more, but you didn’t care. You just needed him.

He let you stay there for a while, he knew you needed it. He shushed the small sorries coming out of your mouth, telling you that you didn’t need to apologize. He only pulled you away when you calmed down completely.

“I’m going to get the thermometer. Stay here, my baby.” and he’s off to grab the thermometer you kept on hand from one of the cabinets in the bathroom, coming back with a concerned look on his face.

He quickly rubbed the thermometer along your forehead, reading out your temperature with a sharp ‘beep!’

“101 degrees.” He sighed. “Baby, if this gets any worse, you’re going to have to go to the hospital.”

Your breath hitches and tears spring to your eyes again, which Minho notices immediately.

“Hey, look at me.” He says, using his pointer finger to make you face him. “I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you feel better okay?”

You nod along, resting your body back into his comforting arms as he massages your tense shoulders. He’s whispering small praises as he does this, and you swear you can feel your headache dissipating slowly.

While even though it’s going to be a while before you’re completely better, or even a little bit, you knew with him, it would all be okay.

As long as you have him taking care of you, comforting you, and loving you, you know you’ll be okay.

back to masterlist

[imloyaltoscoups]

guinea pig | kim mingyu

You've recently turned one of the empty rooms in your apartment into a makeshift photography studio. It's become your haven, a place where creativity flows freely, but there's just one thing missing—a model.

With a sigh, you glance around the room, pondering your options. Suddenly, it hits you, your friends! They'd be perfect for the job. You grab your phone and open your group chat, typing out a message: "Helloo~ I need a guinea pig for a photo shoot. Any takers?"

You wait eagerly for their responses, but one by one, they all decline. Some are out of town, others too busy with work or other commitments. Feeling a tad disheartened, you're about to give up when a private message pops up from Mingyu.

"What do you mean by guinea pig???" he asks, his curiosity piqued.

You grin, relieved to have found at least one potential prey model. Quickly, you reply, "I mean someone to pose for some experimental shots I want to try out. Are you up for it?"

There was a pause before Mingyu's response came through, teasingly saying, "Ah, I see. You might want to change the term you're using though. Sounds a bit... scary."

"Sooo it's that a yes?" you type back.

"Yup, just give me a minute to prepare," Mingyu replies promptly.

Amused by Mingyu's willingness to participate, you shoot him another message, "Oki~ Btw bring a few different outfits if you can."

After a moment, his reply pops up, "Hmm, shouldn't you be the one worrying about outfits? I'm just the canvas, remember?"

Chuckling at his cheeky response, you type back, "True true. Haha. I'll make sure to have some clothes ready. Just get your ass here. ASAP!"

As you continue to organize your makeshift studio, another thought crosses your mind. Typing out a message to Mingyu, you suggest, "Gyu, since you're the model, can you bring some food? We might get hungry during the shoot!"

Mingyu's reply comes in swiftly, his cheekiness evident in his words, "Wow, now you want me to be the model and the caterer? What's next, am I also doing your hair and makeup?"

You chuckle at his response, appreciating his sense of humor. "Consider it a payment for your modeling services," you reply, adding a smiley face.

There's a brief pause before Mingyu responds, "The audacity. 🙄"

You can't help but laugh at his cheeky response, typing back, "Hey, a multi-talented model like you can surely handle it all, right?"

"Fine" he concedes, "I'll drive thru mcdo, anything you want?"

With a grin, you reassure him, "Anything will do, as long as it keeps us fueled for the shoot. Thanks, Handsome!"

As you place your phone down, you can't shake off the excitement bubbling inside you. Rushing over to your printer, you start browsing Pinterest for inspiration, printing out a mix of cute and seductive poses. You gather them into a folder, ready to guide your impromptu photoshoot.

Heading to your closet, you rummage through the clothes, searching for outfits that can accommodate Mingyu's towering height. After a bit of digging, you manage to find a few options that might work.

With a satisfied nod, you arrange the shirts, jackets, and skirts neatly on the rack, mentally crossing your fingers that Mingyu will show up in jeans to complete the look. It's a bit of a challenge styling someone taller than you, but you're determined to make it work.

Glancing around your makeshift studio, you double-check the lighting and adjust the backdrop slightly, ensuring everything is set for the photoshoot. you settle into a chair nearby as you wait for your muse to arrived.

Hearing the doorbell, you spring up from your chair, practically sprinting to the monitor to check who's there. Sure enough, it's him, standing at your front door with a grin on his face. "Open the door!" he calls out, his voice muffled through the speaker.

Swinging it open, you're greeted by Mingyu's amused expression. Before you can even exchange greetings, your hand instinctively reaches for the bag of food he's carrying.

But he is quick to react, pulling the bag out of your reach with a playful tsk. "Ah ah ah," he teases, holding the bag just out of your grasp. "Not so fast, photographer. You'll get your food after we're done shooting."

You can't help but pout, disappointment clear on your face. "Come on, just one fry!"

With a mock sigh, he relents, literally plucking a single fry from the bag and holding it out to you. "Fine, just one. Don't say I never did anything for you." you eagerly accept it, savoring the salty goodness.

But when you ask for more, he shakes his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Sorry, buddy. You're on your own for the rest. Gotta save some for the hungry model."

You let out a playful curse, feigning disappointment as he steps past you into the house, the tantalizing scent of fries lingering in the air. Well, at least you got a taste.

"Nice setup," Mingyu comments as he steps into the studio, his eyes scanning the room before landing on the clothing rack. He quirks an eyebrow as he examines the skirts hanging there. "A skirt? Really?"

You shrug with a sheepish grin, replying, "Hey, it's the best option considering my pants won't even fit you. But don't worry, it's part of the art."

Thanking him for wearing denim jeans, you dive into picking out some clothes for him. "Okay, let's see… How about this turtleneck?.. with this skirt." you suggest, holding it up for his approval.

As you hand him the clothes, you expect him to excuse himself to change, but to your surprise, he starts undressing right there in front of you. You pause for a moment, taken aback, but then you remember that you're both comfortable with each other, and it's all in the name of art.

Once he's dressed, you step back to admire the look, studying him intently. Despite the unconventional pairing, Mingyu somehow manages to pull it off effortlessly. You can't help but feel a pang of admiration, marveling at how effortlessly he can make any outfit look good. "Nice," you finally comment, unable to hide your admiration. "You could wear a garbage bag and still look hot."

He laughs at your comment, flashing you a grin. "Thanks, I think," he replies, striking a wink. "But let's stick with the turtleneck and skirt for now."

"Alright, Gyu, I need you right over here," you gesture towards a spot in front of the backdrop, indicating where you want him to stand.

"Stand tall, shoulders back, and give me a confident stance."

Mingyu follows your directions with ease, adopting a relaxed yet commanding posture that fills the frame with his presence. You adjust the lighting, capturing the play of shadows on his features as he effortlessly owns the space.

"Great, now let's try something a bit more dynamic," you continue, gesturing for him to shift his weight and strike a more playful pose. "How about a slight lean forward, like you're about to take a step? And maybe tilt your head to the side, just a bit."

With a subtle nod, he adjusts his position, adding a hint of movement to the shot while maintaining his composed demeanor. The camera clicks away, freezing the moment in time with striking precision.

As you review the shots on your camera screen, you can't help but be impressed by Mingyu's natural talent in front of the lens. "You're a natural, Gyu," you remark with a grin, feeling the excitement building with each successful shot.

"Let's switch things up a bit," you suggest, motioning for him to crouch down slightly. "Can you lower yourself down and rest one arm on your thigh?"

Mingyu nods, gracefully sinking into a crouch while maintaining his poise. He extends one arm, resting it casually on his thigh, the lines of his body creating a captivating silhouette against the backdrop. His expression takes on a thoughtful intensity as he gazes off into the distance, his features highlighted by the soft glow of the studio lights.

As you review the images on the camera screen, a playful idea strikes you. "Gyu, do you think you could put your finger on your lips and stretch them out a bit? Like you're shushing someone?"

Mingyu quirks an eyebrow at the request but doesn't hesitate to comply. Placing a finger to his lips, he stretches them out into a playful pout, his eyes sparkling with mischief. It's a simple gesture, but it adds a touch of whimsy to the shot, making it all the more captivating.

"Nice," you grin, snapping away as Mingyu holds the pose, his playful expression captured for eternity. "Stand up Gyu, let's switch up the look." you say, turning towards the clothing rack to pick out a new outfit.

As you start browsing through the options, you hear Mingyu's footsteps approaching. Before you can react, he's beside you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he plucks the folder from the table.

You turn to him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "Oh, found the inspiration folder, did you?"

Mingyu nods, flipping through the pages with a knowing smirk. "I see you've been doing some interesting research," he remarks teasingly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You feel a flush creep into your cheeks, but you try to play it cool. "Just trying to get some ideas for poses, you know," you say nonchalantly, though your heart rate might have picked up a bit.

He smirk, as his gaze lingering on the images in the folder. "Hmm, some of these poses are... quite provocative," he comments, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

You clear your throat, feeling a bit flustered under his scrutiny. "Uh, yeah, I was just exploring different styles." you reply awkwardly, hoping to steer the conversation back on track.

But Mingyu doesn't seem deterred, his grin widening as he leans closer to you. "So, which one of these 'interesting' poses are we trying next?" he asks, his tone teasing yet daring.

You clear your throat, trying to regain your focus as you hand Mingyu the leather jacket. "Yep, just the jacket and pants for this one," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow playfully, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just the jacket and pants? Sounds like my kind of outfit," he teases, his eyes dancing with amusement.

You chuckle nervously, trying to keep your composure as he strips off his previous clothes and slips into his pants. Your breath catches in your throat as he casually drapes the jacket over his shoulder, the fabric falling in elegant folds.

Gulping down the sudden surge of nerves, you muster up the courage to give him instructions for the next pose. "Next, let's try something a bit more... dramatic," you say, your voice coming out a little shaky.

Mingyu quirks an eyebrow, his gaze flicking towards you with a hint of curiosity. "Dramatic, huh? I like the sound of that," he remarks, his smirk widening as he waits for your next move.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling hands as you instruct him to pose. "I want you to stand with your back against the backdrop, one hand resting on your hip and the other holding the jacket open slightly," you explain, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu nods in understanding, a playful glint in his eyes as he strikes the pose with practiced ease. As you prepare your camera, he can't resist teasing you one last time. "Why not give me some more specific instructions? After all, you've already seen the folder," he teases, his voice laced with playful mischief.

You swallow nervously, acutely aware of the charged atmosphere between you. "I think you already know what I want," you reply, trying to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. As you continue to snap away with the camera.

He chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sureee" he concedes.

Rolling your eyes at Mingyu's teasing, you instructed him to wear the jacket. "Just put on the jacket now, please," you say firmly, trying to ignore the playful smirk on his face.

He laugh quietly, but he complies, slipping into the jacket with a casual grace. As he starts to zip it up, he pauses and shoots you a mischievous grin. "You sure you don't want to show off my abs?" he teases, his tone laced with amusement.

You shoot him a glare in response, your patience wearing thin. "Just follow the instructions, Kim Mingyu," you say, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Mingyu's smirk fades slightly at your tone, and he nods, zipping up the jacket until it reaches his chest. He then looks at you expectantly, waiting for further instructions.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you gesture towards his pants. "Now, unbutton your pants," you instruct, trying to keep your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't protest. Instead, he reaches down and unbuttons his pants, revealing the waistband of his boxers underneath. He looks back at you, a playful glint in his eyes as he waits for your next command.

"Now, let's try something a bit more candid," you suggest, adjusting your camera settings. "Take out your phone and look at it, as if you're checking a message or something. And keep one hand resting on your jean."

Mingyu nods, slipping his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone. As he does so, he shoots you a playful grin. "Sure thing, boss," he replies, his tone laced with humor. With his phone in hand, Mingyu adopts the pose you described, his gaze fixed on the screen as his other hand rests casually on his jean.

"Perfect," you reply, framing the shot and adjusting the focus. "Just hold that pose for a moment."

As you snap the photo, Mingyu's eyes meet yours briefly, a playful twinkle dancing in them. "Got it," you say, lowering the camera and giving him a nod of approval. "That was great."

Mingyu grins, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Thanks. Anything else you want to try?" he asks, his tone casual but curious.

"Can you lower the zipper of your jacket just a bit?" you ask, trying to maintain your professional demeanor.

Mingyu's grin widens as he teasingly responds, "Oh, now you want to see my abs, huh?"

You shoot him a glare, but he only laughs in response. "I was just kidding," he adds quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But seriously, I can't adjust it."

Letting out a resigned sigh, you reluctantly make your way towards him. As you reach for the zipper, Mingyu takes the opportunity to grab your camera, holding it up to give you a better view.

But as you struggle with the stubborn zipper, you can't help but feel Mingyu's gaze burning into you. His eyes are fixed on your face, his expression unreadable yet strangely intense.

Feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks, you try to ignore the distraction and concentrate on the zipper. With a final tug, the zipper finally gives way, sliding down smoothly to reveal the hint of Mingyu's toned chest beneath.

With the zipper finally adjusted, you reclaim your camera from Mingyu's grasp, grateful to resume the shoot. You quickly refocus your attention, determined to capture the perfect shot.

"Alright, Gyu, let's try something a little more intense," you say, your voice slightly husky as you gesture for him to follow your lead.

He nods, his expression serious as he waits for your instructions. "Place your thumb on your lower lip," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper as you watch him carefully.

Mingyu follows your directions without hesitation, his thumb brushing lightly against his lower lip as he fixes his gaze on the camera. There's a raw intensity in his eyes, a simmering passion that sends a shiver down your spine.

As you snap away with your camera, you can't help but feel the sexual tension crackling between you. Each pose becomes more daring, more provocative.

"That's a wrap," you declare with a satisfied smile, reviewing the pictures you've taken with Mingyu. The images are stunning, each one capturing a different facet of his charm and charisma.

Mingyu nods in agreement, a satisfied grin on his face as he removes the jacket, leaving him with just the unbuttoned pants. "Great job, Y/N," he says, giving you a playful wink. "Now, how about we switch roles? You be the model, and I'll be the photographer."

You consider his suggestion for a moment before nodding. "Why not?" you reply with a grin, handing him the camera. "Let's see what you can do behind the lens."

Mingyu accepts the camera with a grin, already brimming with ideas for poses and compositions. "Alright, but first, I think you need to change," he says, gesturing towards your denim shorts. "How about switching into some jeans?"

You nod in agreement, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of being on the other side of the camera. "Sounds good," you reply, making your way to your bedroom to change. As you slip into a pair of jeans, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation building inside you.

You return to the room, a sense of suspense coursing through you as Mingyu holds out a denim jacket. His next request catches you off guard. "Um, remove my shirt and bra and just wear the jacket?" you repeat, your voice slightly shaky with surprise.

Mingyu nods, a determined look in his eyes as he hands you a picture from the folder. "Yeah, I saw this pose and thought it would look great on you," he explains, his tone confident.

You take a deep breath, feeling a surge of nerves and excitement as you strip off your shirt and bra, leaving you with just the jacket. Clutching the picture in your hand, you mimic the pose, trying to channel the same confidence and allure as the model in the photo.

As you hold the pose, he snaps away with the camera, capturing the moment from every angle. "Perfect," he murmurs, a hint of admiration in his voice as he reviews the shots.

Suddenly, Mingyu's voice breaks the silence, pulling you out of your reverie. "Now, how about we try something a little more daring?" he suggests, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his suggestion. "Oh? That would be?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

Mingyu hands you another picture from the folder, his gaze intense as he meets your eyes. "I want you to remove the jacket and just cover your chest," he says, his voice low and husky with desire.

You swallow nervously, feeling a rush of heat flood through you at his words. With trembling hands, you remove the jacket, leaving your chest exposed as you cover yourself with your arms.

Mingyu watches you intently, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he captures the moment with his camera. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he continues to snap away.

But he's not done yet. "Turn around," he instructs, his voice firm but gentle. "Place your hands behind your back, in your pockets."

You obey his command, feeling a thrill run through you as you follow his instructions. The cool breeze brushes against your exposed breasts, sending a shiver down your spine as your nipples harden in response.

Mingyu continues to photograph you, you can't help but feel a sense of exhilaration coursing through you. This photoshoot has taken an unexpected turn, but you find yourself embracing the moment, eager to see where it leads.

As you stand there, feeling a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty, you hear Mingyu's voice behind you. "You look really stunning," he murmurs, his words sending a thrill down your spine.

You turn to face him, a faint blush tinting your cheeks as he moves closer, reaching out to adjust your hair with gentle fingers. His touch sends a shiver of anticipation racing through you.

Mingyu then leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Why don't we go all out?" he whispers, his voice low and husky. "Why don't you take off all your remaining clothes? We can recreate the birth of Venus. You already look perfect, so let's give it a go."

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you consider his proposal. His eyes are dark with desire, burning with a hunger that mirrors your own.

In that moment, you feel a surge of courage coursing through you. With a nod, you take a deep breath and begin to remove your remaining clothes, baring yourself to him completely.

You stand there, vulnerable and exposed, you can't help but feel a sense of liberation washing over you. Mingyu's eyes drink in every inch of your naked form, his admiration evident in the way he looks at you.

As the last click of the camera signals the end of the shoot, Mingyu's words bring you back to reality. "It's done," he declares, his voice filled with satisfaction as he sets the camera down on the table.

With a sense of relief, you start to gather your clothes, eager to cover yourself and return to some semblance of normalcy.

But before you can fully clothe yourself, Mingyu's voice stops you in your tracks. "Wait," he says, his tone commanding yet gentle.

Confused, you turn to look at him, your hands still clutching your clothes to your chest. His eyes are filled with lust as he walks towards you, a hunger burning within him that sends a thrill through your veins.

You swallow nervously as he cups your face in his hands, his touch sending electric sparks dancing across your skin. Closing your eyes, you lean into his touch, anticipation building in the air as you wait for his next move.

And then it happens. Mingyu leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle caress. It's a slow, languid kiss, filled with passion and thirst as you melt into each other's embrace.

Feeling emboldened by the intensity of the moment, you drop your clothes, wrapping your arms around Mingyu to deepen the kiss. His response is immediate, his hands roaming eagerly over your body as he pulls you closer, his desire evident in every touch.

With a soft gasp, you feel Mingyu's hand on his pants, lowering them along with his boxers to let his cock free. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him aligning it along your entrance, the anticipation sending a shiver of excitement coursing through you.

As Mingyu slides his length inside you, you let out a soft moan, the sensation of him filling you completely overwhelming your senses. His hands wrap around your butt, lifting you effortlessly off the ground, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him, clinging to him tightly as he begins to move.

With each thrust, he sets a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You find yourself moving in sync with him, using your arms to pull yourself up and down on him, your legs squeezing his waist to grip him tighter.

His lips find yours in a passionate kiss, adding an extra layer of intensity to the already electric atmosphere. You lose yourself in the moment, the world fading away as you focus solely on the feeling of Mingyu inside you, the rhythm of your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

As you reach your climax together, the pleasure crashes over you in a tidal wave, your bodies trembling with the force of your release. Pressing your foreheads together, you lock eyes with Mingyu, sharing a moment of pure connection as you cum together inside you.

Still clinging to him, he squeeze your ass, the sensation sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Mingyu's words break the silence, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. "If this is what you meant for being a guinea pig," he says, his tone teasing yet sincere, "then count me in for every experiment."

Laughing at his playful remark, you reluctantly unwrap your legs from around him as he gently sets you back down on the ground. Despite the lingering warmth of your connection, you know there are practical matters to attend to.

"Shower sounds amazing right now," you say with a grin, feeling a sudden pang of hunger as you remember the food Mingyu brought. "And food too, definitely food."

Mingyu nods in agreement, a smile playing on his lips as he reaches for your hand. "Lead the way," he says, his voice soft and reassuring as he follows you towards the bathroom.

As you step into the shower together, the warm water cascading over your bodies, you can't help but feel a sense of intimacy and closeness with Mingyu. The simple act of washing each other's skin becomes a tender gesture of care and affection, deepening the bond between you.

After the shower, you wrap yourselves in towels and make your way to the kitchen, where you find the food Mingyu brought earlier waiting for you. Sitting down at the table together, you share a meal.

You then started to set up your laptop to export the pictures from the photoshoot, eager to see the results of your collaboration. As you browse through the images, you can't help but feel a sense of pride at the work you've created together.

With a satisfied smile, you lean back in your chair, feeling grateful for the day you've shared with Mingyu. As you look at him, a sense of warmth fills your heart, knowing that you've found someone who's willing to go on this journey with you, one photoshoot at a time.

....... ≿━━━━༺MINGYU༻━━━━≾ .......

[iid-smile]

flufftober — diluc ragnvindr

noticeable

synopsis: both of you notice things about each other all the time, especially when you both do your morning and night routines together. you know the exact steps he prefers when it comes to shaving his face, and diluc knows how you like to curl your hair.

a/n: um... pretend this came out yesterday because i literally FORGOT. then as i started writing, the og idea i had gradually faded out and i felt like i was on something as i continued... (ihateit) 😁

word count: 333

"hold still..." your fingers graze his jaw as you avoid directly touching the shaving cream spread all over his face. you make an attempt to raise the razor to his cheek again, but your hand shakes as you giggle for no apparent reason.

your husband can only huff as you fail for the umpteenth time to make a start on shaving his face, something that you asked to do. "i am still, darling." diluc lowly responds, his eyes glancing at your combined reflection. "or are you searching for an excuse to make me talk?"

"maybe." you hum, and quickly shake the excitement out of you as you press the metal to his skin. slowly, slowly, and with a light grip, you move the razor from his cheekbone down to his jaw. "oh! it came off smooth this time!" you turn his head to the side so he can take a look himself.

he softly smiles at the sight, finding your effort nothing but adorable. "good job." he praises you. "continue like that."

and continue you did. throughout, he constantly encouraged you and gave you advice. you insisted on washing his face too, but he wanted to do that himself. you've already done enough for him.

after he's done, he dries off his hands. "it's your turn." you can feel his warmth spread into your shoulders as he guides you to stand in front of him. diluc enjoyed doing your hair, mostly because it prevents you from getting shoulder and neck pain, but also because he's used to taking care of hair. have you seen his? a huge handful, but he manages. "anything specific you want me to do?"

"hm..." placing your hand on your chin, you pretend to think for a bit, though your choice was already set in stone. "can you make my hair look like yours?"

diluc raises an eyebrow. "like mine?" he pauses looking through the sink drawers.

"like fluffy. and a ponytail!"

"that will be... difficult, honey. are you—?" the two of you hold eye contact for just a split second, but he knows your facial expressions all too well. "you are sure. fine. i'll try."

"with the pink curlers?"

"with the pink curlers."

[easy-there-leftovers]

Magnum Opus Ch. 2

When an MIT prodigy on their gap year is contacted by the FBI regarding potential involvement in a series of murders in Washington D.C., she must now cooperate to uncover how paintings are mysteriously appearing at the crime scenes.(Written with Season 1-4 Spencer in mind, but the timeline could be anywhere pre-season 12. No mentions of past cases)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist! reader|cw: Canon-typical violence|word count: 2.6k words

Notes: I made up a bunch of chemicals and their chemical properties up so shhhh!! Also, I'm not American, I have no contextual understanding of the distance of one place to another. The US is large enough.

Also on Ao3!!

Series Masterlist

“Anything new?” Rossi asked as he and Prentiss returned from the crime scene, making his way into the space the MPDC made for the BAU. Surveying the area as he does before stopping abruptly.

“Forensics are running tests on her stuff. She brought everything in. Apparently she didn’t know anything about the murders before we interrogated her.” Morgan shifts his weight from leaning against a desk to approaching  JJ who motions for his help across and out of the room.

“And she’s here with us in the room, why?”

 Hotch feels the scrutiny of his friend’s eyes, so he turns his sight away from where you and Reid stood. 

“Reid doesn’t think she fits the profile and wants her insight on the case. I trust his judgment, so I allowed it.”

“You said that?” Emily asks with furrowed brows. 

“Well, non-verbatim, I said that her knowledge on–”

“And you allowed our prime suspect to help with a case?” The unit chief sighs when Dave interrupts Reid but stays firm.

“I don’t enjoy the idea of it either, but she’s the only lead we have.” 

Rossi shrugs, but keeps a watchful eye on the young pair. Only turning away when Emily starts to debrief the earlier crime scene.

She recounts that they had found Jonathan Edwards’ body, aged 28, seated on the previous apartment owner’s couch. One hand across his chest, and the other placed on his lap. A pose that they assume was the closest their unsub could get to mirroring the man in the painting. 

Same M.O. Cleaned wounds, no IDs, sharply dressed. 

The dark haired woman adds the pictures of the crime scene to the growing collage on the board.

 Seeing all of this was like a backstage view, which excited you! But knowing that your work might have inspired someone to kill? Not so much. 

“When you look at the victimolgy, there are no obvious links. Their occupation, race, and gender are all different. Our unsub here seems mission oriented, only targeting people that bear a striking resemblance to Dr. L/n’s subjects and murdering them in their own homes…”

 You sigh as Spencer continues, eyes searching though the unsettling images.

“They’re someone that the victims might’ve been interested in. Someone that could contact them or schedule to meet in a formal setting. The victims weren’t reported missing until they didn’t show up for work, suggesting that they had met in private on their off hours. They’re also highly educated, likely with a background in chemical engineering or a related field with permission to operate in a lab. Or at least a private space like one. This level of intelligence is evident in the precision the bodies were handled with and the synthesized 5-durastelene in the paint.”

“So we’re looking for someone who is charismatic, well connected, and had access to a lab at some point.” Emily simplifies. 

“Their area of activity is concentrated in the east.” You mention, looking at the map and noticing the pattern of the bodies’ location as it crosses three states. “That’s probably their comfort zone. They either live there or are stationed there for their job.”

You assess the distance. “Assuming the place those three were killed and the place they were found are different, he must be comfortable traveling with a body.” 

He shifts his focus from the board to you, but you keep your vision stationary. “Do you know anyone like that? Someone from there that you’d be on unfriendly terms with? A colleague, a mentor?” 

Well that caught your attention.

“...You think they’re trying to incriminate me?” You feel the space between your brows twitch when you ask. Still staring at the map.

He frowns a little at that and responds. “Do you think they’re not?”

“Well–” You start, but then feel nervous feeling all the attention on you. You’re a little overwhelmed, but press on anyway. “I’m not saying that, it just—seems like a few ‘why’s’ are missing.” 

Why bother adding a painting? Why bother even making them? Why bother mixing durastelene, a compound that would definitely alter the paint’s integrity given its properties, to replicate something the public wouldn’t even know you made? All questions you asked with a more steady tone.

“Let’s not get carried away, kid. We’re trying to see the big picture first.” The senior in the room says.

Picking at the skin of your lips, you acquiesce and turn to finally look at Spencer. 

Spencer feels his eyes flick to your fingers first then to your eyes. “I think they’re trying to send you a message.” 

He looks back to the pictures of your paintings on the scene. Trying to see if he’s missed something.

 “They might believe that by recreating your work, they’re challenging you– establishing a level of superiority. You said that no one should have access to your paintings, so this must have been someone that once knew you intimately and is now mocking you to make a point. It’s not just about incrimination—they’re trying to reach out to you.”

You feel the space between your brows twitch again.

You can think of a few people who might dislike you; competition is expected in the academic world. But the obvious signs of fixation on you suggests two possibilities: you're either being seen as a rival or as an idol.

It’s unlikely that anyone sees an unemployed PhD student with burn-out syndrome as a worthy rival. 

And something tells you that if they really wanted to place the blame on you, they wouldn’t go this far, in this way. 

They might as well have left a note with your name on it and that would’ve been more believable.

Then again, you could just be wrong 

You’re in a room full of professionals. You’re speculating based off of a theory that might not be applicable to your situation due to a variety of factors. There’s a reason this is their job and not yours. 

You take this thought in stride with a deep intake of breath and now slackened shoulders before responding with a careful nod.

“If that’s the case, then I think it’ll be a little hard to find someone that meets the criteria. I didn’t really have friends when I graduated from MIT, and even if I did, they wouldn’t know about my art—not because I kept it hidden–! It’s only because I started painting when I left.”

The team looked a bit sad at the revelation of your almost non-existent social circle, but quickly acted like what you said was normal.

“Let’s focus on anyone that you had worked closely with then.” You nod at that and start discussing possibilities.

—-------------

Spencer is thankful for Hotch’s suggestion as it diverts the earlier attention away from him. He wouldn’t have minded it at any other time if he wasn’t too preoccupied with thoughts of you.

Thoughts of you with regards to the case, he finds himself justifying to no one in particular.

Everyone has tells. A gesture, a change in posture, nonverbal cues that give someone away. They’re hard to hide because it's in human nature to have them. Trying to keep them hidden is essentially like holding your breath. Suspending the inevitable will only make the tells much more noticeable.

And you don’t seem to be doing that. 

On the contrary, it’s the presence of your micro reactions that are throwing him off. He has noticed five pauses, four instances of rapid eye movement, three tonal deviations, two quirks in your glabella, and now your previously leveled shoulders have dropped. 

Maybe it’s because he’s spent a lot of time with people who try to hide them, but seeing an overwhelming amount of tells manifest in you has him scrambling to figure out what each one means.

Within the two hours and 33 minutes that have passed since he was allowed into your home, the only thing he’s found out about you through your interactions is that you’re disorganized, you’re insecure about your intelligence, and that you don’t like being called doctor. 

All superficial quirks. Two hours is too long a time for him to have only figured three things out. 

He’s missing something. Or maybe he’s not looking at it from the right angle.

Before he can think more on the matter, his mind refocuses on the team. 

Penelope had called them to say that she had gone through lists of attendees from all the conferences you’ve spoken at, both private and open-house events, at Aaron Hotchner’s request. 

“I was able to pick out a few names that are poking around here and there, but I’m going to need a little more than that, my dear comrades! Sifting through names of geeks isn't really my favorite pastime.”

“Pen, narrow down the list to names from MIT. We’re looking for a student from the Chemistry programs or a lecturer that might have access to a lab.” Emily supplied, leaning onto the table where the blonde was on screen. 

“Doing just that and—oh! Would you look at that! Looks like the tools aren’t as diligent as they claim to be.” The mocking tone in her voice causes a small smile to creep on your face.

“Caltech?” The bubbly woman snorts at that.

“Anyone in their right mind knows it’s the superior choice! Tech geeks hate MIT.”

“Don’t let our tools hear you then, we have a history of going nuclear.” That certainly earned you a giggle from the woman on the other end. 

“There’s a sense of humor I can get behind! We–”

“Garica, focus.” Hotch said with urgency.

“Yes–I will! I am! So focused in fact that I’ve got a few names, but only one is super consistent—Lecturer Dr. Annaliese Andrews! Looking up this nerd as we speak and—!” 

You all heard the hitch in her breath.

“Oh no….”

“Garcia, what did you find?”

The BAU and you were silent for a moment before Penelope composed herself. “Dr. Andrews owned a lab near the Charles’ river.” 

She shows its location on screen and a picture of your mentor, Dr. Andrews with a notebook in hand, posed in front of it. The picture was from her social media update, and it couldn’t have been taken more than a year or two ago.

“She built it herself in the 80’s and maybe she wasn’t keeping up with safety protocols but eventually a fire broke out, and she–” Then you see a news headline of the same lab on fire.

“How long ago was this?” Hotch demanded. This got the attention of everyone in the room. 

“Uh,” Penelope sat in her office, frantically typing until an article showed up. “This happened around nine months ago, but it says here that her next of kin decided to keep the property.”

They’ve found a stressor.

“That’s impossible.” You countered. “Dr. Andrews had no family. No husband, no kids.”

“Who is the property under now?” Rossi pressed. 

Muttering under her breath, she continues to search. 

“Says here a month later, a workshop was built right where the lab was– Aha! It’s under 35 year old Liam Turner, freelance photographer. He’s got a studio on Bay State Road.” 

Penelope pulls up an image of an almost unremarkable looking man on screen along with a scan of his BA in Visual Studies from Harvard.

“What the hell…” You don’t recognize this guy at all. 

“Do you know him?” Hotch asks and you say no with a shake of your head and upturned brows.

“Right now, I’m not seeing a connection between these two either—anything you guys can give me?”

You want to interject. Something about him seems familiar, but you don’t recognize him from anywhere. 

You want to ask— no–it wouldn’t be your right. They can figure this out themselves and you're still a suspect! Besides, you’re not even sure if– 

“Do you want to say something, Y/n?”

Your head shoots to the voice and you see Spencer staring back at you. Mouth slightly open which lets you know the question probably came from.

 Maybe it’s because he used your given name, maybe it’s the heavy feeling in your stomach. But regardless, his question certainly makes space for you to voice your thoughts as the room awaits your reply.

You feel your shoulders tense as you speak. “Was his name in the list of attendees?”

Garcia checks quickly but she shakes her head to say no. You thought so.

You ask a different question. “Then uh, can you pull up surveillance footage at any of the conferences?”

She does just that and presents a split-screen video from a month before you graduated. One camera was stationed at the back of the room, and the other overhead from where you stood. She speeds it up as the team watches not much movement until Spencer points something out with a start.

 He gestures to the upper right corner where a lone camera man stands on the side, and asks their tech analyst to zoom in.

There lied the face of the man from earlier search with a camera in hand. The thing that makes him special though, Spencer says, is that based on the angle he was holding the lens at, he was focusing only on you and not on your projection.

“He was in the room, but not in the list.” He furrowed his brows.

You shook your head. “He probably wasn’t an official attendee, someone that a lecturer could’ve requested the assistance of last minute— anyways, can we see where the pictures he took were used? Like articles, tabloids?”

“Absolutely, just give me a second…” You all watch a bunch of sites pop up as Garcia combs through anything that may be related. 

In no time however, she comes across a website. 

There on the screen, for all of the team to see, was a blog, or maybe a portfolio, that had snippets from interviews, headlines, and pictures that featured you. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it looks like any image of you that would show up if you were googled were credited under him. 

Conferences. Campus surveys. Even candid conversation with school representatives.

Penelope digs deeper until she finds the first upload. A picture of a sunset taken somewhere on a bridge with a notebook and pen on its ledge. Though it might not have been enough for most people to recognize, Spencer notices it immediately. 

“Garcia, can you pull up the picture of Dr. Andrews with her lab?”

She does just that and he only needs one look before he turns to address his colleagues. “The notebook is the same! His initials, ‘L.T.’ are on her notebook cover, and this picture!”

And as much as you wished you could sympathize with Spencer’s excitement, you were feeling very overwhelmed at the moment. 

Case and point; first you find out your mentor is dead, then you find out you have a stalker that possibly hates your guts. Find out that said stalker may or may not be related to said mentor, who may or may not hate you, and now you have to digest the possibility of him being a murderer as some sort of vengeance arc?

You shake the thought away.

The tie between him and the victims is still something you don’t get. Clean wounds,  no IDs, sharply dressed.

 So you ask.

“Any chance the victims visited Turner’s studio before they disappeared?”

Analog photo developers have no problem working with a lot of chemicals, and IDs are commonly taken for legal confirmation, you share with the team. The only reason they’d be dressed like that was if–

“They—-all booked an appointment with him.”

You almost regret asking.

--------

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