#being simply near them is not enough they have to be touching them?!?!

[redheadspark]

Hiii. Sorry to bother, but do you mind repeating Characters for your september prompt session? And if the answer is no... can I ask for Benedict Bridgerton with #12- Dreamy? Please?☺️

A/N - Hello! Sorry for not getting to this sooner, but I'm so happy I got to write this! I hope you like it!

Walk

Summary - Benedict knows how to love you, even in your dreams

Warnings - Mostly fluff with a hint of angst

It started with flowers floating in your dreams.

Not just any flowers, your favorite.  Beautiful peach-colored roses that bloomed at the perfect time. You loved those flowers, they reminded you of your father when you were very little and he would find them just for you.  The sweet scent they carried brought you peace and tranquility, and the velvet touch along your fingers brought you reality when you were lost in your mind.

You dreamt of those flowers, and it made you smile.

Next, it was your favorite lake, the very lake that was near your summer cottage that your family would go to every June.  It was a lovely lake, with tall grass along the sides, and instant memories of swimming in the waters from dawn until dusk, or until your mother had to drag you out.  You missed that lake as of late, and to dream it was another sign that something was going on in your dreams. 

Or someone, and you knew who it was.

Being ever observant and inquisitive about your life, your husband and soulmate Benedict Bridgerton was willing to “walk” in your dreams.  It wasn’t walking really, it was more like peeking in, like poking his head through a window and seeing on the other side.  It was a cool little trick that soulmates could do: seeing the other’s dreams or tapping into your mind when they were sleeping. It seemed like a childish thing to do, you sharing with other couples that were soulmates how they would see their spouse's dreams and uncover deep dark secrets.  But that was never the case for you and Benedict. 

You were more tight-lipped than your spouse was, not that he would chat about anything and everything if he had the chance.  You were simply an introvert who would prefer to have a small cluster of friends with you then be in a ball with thousands of others.  Benedict seemed to be the opposite: having a big family filled with brothers and sisters and the in-laws that also came with them.  You loved his family, they were nothing but warm and kind to you when you were introduced as his soulmate months before.  Your mother-in-law, Violet Bridgerton, was especially taken with you when she hugged you close.

“You two are simply lovely together, I can tell Benedict will make you very happy!” She said in glee.  And she was indeed right.

Benedict loved making you smile and bringing you happiness, whether it was his flirtatious nature with his word and longing gazes, or the small gifts he would give you since he knew you were not a big fan of massive gifts and huge proclamations of love.  He showed it also through his craft in artistry, the paintings he would gift you on a random day or on your birthday would always make you grin from ear to ear and feel that love again.  He was a wondering soulmate and husband.

Even more when he visited your dreams and saw what was plaguing your mind.

Sometimes it was good and sometimes it was bad, but it was mostly good thanks to Benedict.  You could see the same about Benedict and his own dreams, which were always light and filled with optimism and dreams that he’s had.  He was an amazing artist and was known far and wide for his work, keeping his family close by, and did not lose them at any moment.  And most of all, his marriage to you.  Some of the dreams were worries that he had if he was a good enough son to his mother or a husband to you. If his work was going to be well received or if it was something he should give up.

You woke up and ran to him, hugging him close in your arms after seeing one of those dreams of his insecurities.  He was taken aback at first, but you simply held him and whispered in his ear, “You’re good enough, my darling,”

You could have sworn you felt tears hit your nightgown.  

From then on, both you and Benedict it is a rule to never invade one another’s dreams to the point of annoyance.  Not that either one of you was prone to negative dreams, it was rare really.  If there was a dream questionable, there was room for discussion the following morning.  But that rarely happened, you two were ever open to one another and never left anything out of a conversation.  Benedict helped you blossom and be bold in your opinions and in how you spoke, in return you helped Benedict be calmer in the chaotic times.  

Even in the dire times, Benedict was there for you within your dreams.  Right after you both were married, your father fell ill and passed away within months.  It was a devastating blow to your family, you took the loss very hard since you were very close to your father.  After the funeral, Benedict held you in his arms as you cried yourself to sleep.  Though you were filled with love and comfort thanks to your soulmate, the hole that was left behind because of the absence of your father was still evident.

Yet there was Benedict, in your dream, holding you close and swaying with you as you both danced among the clouds.  

“Thank you, my love,” You thanked him in the dream, seeing him peer down at you and trace your face with his fingers.

“You don’t ever have to thank me for taking care of the love of my life,” He replied in a loving tone.  

Years later and with several dreams already shared, you both were growing as a couple in a new phase of life. Your mother gifted you the summer cottage, something your father wished to do when you were a bit older but your mother figured it was the right time to gift you the small home that was filled to the brim with memories. Benedict whisked you away for one summer, 4 weeks of the pair of you in nature and using the lake for all it’s worth.

9 months later, your son was born.  Affectionally name after your father.  You and Benedict would bring your son to the same cottage every year, making new memories together and always looking forward.  Leaving the past behind.

The End.

[moderarato]

I just want to keep reading the other routes but I’m still hung up on M’s…. like that’s me done….

[absentlyabbie]

i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:

living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.

i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.

unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.

there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.

we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)

and we watched them die.

we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.

it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.

too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.

one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.

i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.

and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.

and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.

all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.

they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.

it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.

it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.

the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.

but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.

keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.

they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.

and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.

if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,

keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.

edit: since apparently i need to clarify this, i'm saying cats should live inside, that they should not live outdoors, even part time. visiting the outdoors supervised on a leash or in an enclosed catio is not the same as even part-time living outside, and i am certainly not advocating against it.

[sentoooo]

ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴍᴇʀ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇꜱ

✭ pairing(s): messmer x gn reader

✧ a/n: chat is it like financially acceptable to buy a $260 collectors edition when you already have the game just for a statue of a guy You Like Too Much (do i have a thing for redheads?) also before anyone says "you can do anything you put your mind to" i can but also all i imagine is him splitting me in half so penetration... i know that he's messmer the impaler but not of this boypussy he aint

🗒 cw: SMUT, SHADOW OF THE ERDTREE SPOILERS, gn reader, tarnished reader, size difference, a little ooc, frotting, thigh jobs, handjobs, oral, accidental manhandling, hair pulling, praise, pesudo-bondage(?), not proofread

✎ wc: 1.1k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

Intimacy is a long abandoned thought within the lands between. Long gone are the days of tenderness, and in their wake, only blood and steel remain. That is to say, MESSMER is a virgin. Painfully so.

Sex is quite the foreign concept for someone who’s being is steeped within the flames of war. The most love he had known was his mother’s coddling before she had disappeared, and in his rage, he had never sought out another form of love. Torn between the want for his mother to look down upon him once more, and the need to kill, to earn her approval once more, the thought of loving another, of trusting another with his body, his mind, his heart, it is near unfathomable.

And yet, here you were. Someone who stirred such benevolent (and more) feelings within him. How so utterly kind of you to share with him your heart, your mind, your body. He must repay you in kind, of course.

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room, or the snakes in the room, if you will. He feels quite embarrassed to have them there when you two… engage. While they understand and know his feelings– and they were the very obvious sign of his interest in you– to him, it’s the equivalent of having your pet in the room while you have sex. He makes them look away, since that is about all he can do. It is quite awkward your first time. But, they’ll come into play, later.

Due to MESSMER’s size, he is quite nervous about entering you, even with his fingers. It takes him a little while to get used to it. He trims his nails just for you, and he draws the line at two fingers, one is almost enough as it is. He gets accustomed to fingering you quickly, to have you sit in his lap while he presses his fingers into you, his free hand resting on your thigh and pushing it open, it is his own little piece of heaven.

Oral is another option for him, of course. Something that is much more easy on his mind, he doesn’t have to worry about delving too deep, nor about hurting you. He can just settle his head between your thighs and take what he wishes as you writhe above him. Pull his hair and praise him, and he’ll cum untouched. I promise.

He excels at oral, though. Put that practiced tongue to use. He maintains contact all the while, even though his face is quite red. He gives you this beautiful look that speaks volumes, ‘touch me, I beg’, it says. ‘Please’. And if you answer that plea, even simply by stroking his cheek, he lets out an audible shiver. Even his snakes shake a little, letting out a soft hiss as he continues.

On that note, however, good lord does this man enjoy a good frotting session. He is afraid to enter you, like I said, due to his size. Frotting is a good way to atleast feel you, while also granting himself pleasure, without hurting you. He could go on for days and nights just rutting against you, whimpering into your skin, simply basking in the (rather lewd) intimacy of it all.

MESSMER also quite enjoys thigh jobs. He loves them, actually. He sits you in his lap, fucking his cock up into the plush of your thighs, head buried in the crook of your neck as he guides your own rhythm. Of course, he could let you grind by yourself, but he prefers to take matters into his own hands (literally). It’s the least he can offer you (less of a workout) while he lets go of all his sexual frustrations between your thighs. He doesn’t mean to jostle you around as much as he does, he can’t help it.

Speaking of sexual frustrations, this man is PACKED FULL OF THEM. I’m not saying he could be fixed by jacking off, but he could at least feel a little better afterwards. With you, good lord has he calmed down. He’s a lot less tense, happier, perhaps even jubilant. You cannot wash away the fact that his mother is strung up and imprisoned by a god, but perhaps all MESSMER needed was to feel the warmth of another, rather than simmer in the ever-burning flame that he has come to know, and despise.

Now, about his snakes… it takes a long while for him to open up to the idea of them being incorporated into sex. Having them simply turn away makes it feel awkward, of course, but perhaps they could do more…? They do adore you, after all. Perhaps a little impromptu bondage? Keeping your hands tied as he feasts upon you, or perhaps keeping your legs parted as his cock glides against your own sex.

He isn't the most kinkiest guy, of course. Although, “kinky” in the Lands Between and Land of Shadow might be totally different to our description. The most he does is overstimulate you, but never on purpose. Sometimes MESSMER gets too ahead of himself, too wanting. And he takes what he wants, what he needs. Though he always apologizes afterwards, not that you mind. He never takes it too far anyways. He's got quite the stamina, yet still falls short due to his experience (i.e, zero).

Perhaps the two of you cannot be as close as you wish during sex, but that doesn't make the act any less intimate. Especially to him, a life so devoid of such love, only consumed by hate and longing, but never yearning. He's the kind of guy to cry during sex. Partially because it feels so good to him, but also because he has never understood this intimacy. Not until now. All sorts of proclamations of love spill from his lips as he guides your thighs along his lanky cock, burying his face in the crook of your neck and sobbing even softer words. Stroke his hair, whisper even sweeter words to him, and return the sentiment. He’ll cum harder, cry a little bit more, and reward you in kind. He’ll lift his head from your neck and look upon you with a teary-eyed, soft expression, and then kiss you oh so sweetly despite his cum coating your thighs.

MESSMER also likes a little balance in your guys’ sex life. He wants– needs to please you as much as you do him. He lets no deed go unrewarded, if you were to jack him off, he'd return by fingering you. And if you allow him to fuck your thighs, he’ll go down on you with a fervor that is unmatched. He makes sure you cum as much as he does, and vice versa. He’s a very fair man, in that aspect.

© sentoooo, 2024 | masterlist | kofi | star header by roseschoices | sfw blog

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[wildernessuntothemselves]

Class clown

class clown gyu who for some reason has it out for nerd!reader and finally she gets sick of it and puts him in his place. warnings: dom!reader, sub!gyu, handjob, blowjob, dirty talk, pathetic gyu as always

"What is your problem?" You snap at Beomgyu, the class clown and the bane of your existence. He is always on your case, making fun of you in front of everyone. Today you made a mistake answering the proferssor's question and he immediatley jumped on it, humiliating you in front of the entire class. "Why do you have to mess with me?"

"Because you're fun to mess them." He answers simply, a huge infuriating grin on his face. You look really funny when you're angry."

You don't know what came over you, you're not usually a violent person but seeing his stupid cocky face makes you lose it and you shove him against the wall, slamming your hands on either side of his head to trap him in. "Do I look funny now?

But to your chagrin, he keeps grinning, not phased one bit. "Kinda."

You're so frustrated you could cry. There was nothing you have ever thought of or done that got him to leave you alone. He has been doing this to you for years, even back when you were at school. In fact you had been so excited to go to uni just to escape him, only to see his stupid face at your first lecture and your entire dream of escape came crashing down.

"What? The smart mouth finally has got nothing to say?" He goads when you stay quiet too long for his liking.

Your vision turns red. He makes you so frustrated and pent up, you would do anything to shut him up. Maybe that's why you resorted to doing something crazy.

Grabbing his face, you push your lips against his, intending to strong-arm him into silence. After all if his lips are busy, he can't mouth off anymore.

You don't know how you expected him to react to that--freeze in shock? Push you off? Call you crazy? You don't know but you certainly didn't expect him to almost immediately start kissing you back. It threw you off so hard you actually pull away from the kiss yourself.

But as soon as you pull back, he's running his mouth again. "Damn, nerd, looks like your mouth is good for somethjng other than eating the professor's ass."

"You're so fucking.. ugh!" You groan, shutting him up again. But this time you don't just use your mouth, instead you raise his shirt up, feeling up his body to his nipples and grabbing them between your thumbs and index fingers and pulling on them a bit roughly, making him gasp and break away from the kiss with a wet smack.

"Oh god," He groans, eyes fluttering as you roll his nipples between your fingers.

"You like that, brat?" You spit, happy to finally be getting the upper hand for the first time in your years of being tormented by Beomgyu.

"Fuck yeah." He groans and tries to reach out to touch your own tits.

"Don't fucking touch me, brat." You hiss at him, "If you touch me, I stop."

"You're being such a killjoy." He protests but it's hard for him to keep a steady voice when your fingers are playing with his clearly sensitive nipples like that, and even more so when one of your hands slips into his loose pants to palm his already very hard cock.

"You look like you're enjoying it enough." You mutter, twisting your hand up to the head of his cock, making him moan out.

"Fucking hell...Are you gonna fuck me?" He asks bluntly.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Gyu?" You ask, and any hesitency over the unfamiliar nickname vanishes as he shudders under your touch.

"If you're going to be handling my cock like that then I damn well expect to get a fuck out of it." He replies, still insolent despite his whimpering and frankly slutty moans.

"You're such a little bitch." You chastise, focusing your strokes on the head of his cock, aiming for maximum damage. "You think you deserve to get anywhere near my pussy after the shit you've pulled over me for years?"

He shrugs, trying to affect nonchalance but it's hard to but he's panting like a bitch for you. "Maybe if you get fucked good, you'd be a little less uptight.

Uptight! Just because you care about your future, that doesn't make you uptight. God, you hate him... but damn, does he looks fucking hot falling apart in your hands like that.

"And maybe if you were getting any attention on your cock apart from your own hand, you wouldn't be such an attention seeking slut." You jeer, getting down on your knees. "Now shut the fuck up or you won't get to cum at all."

"What--" He doesn't have time to formulate his question before you pull his pants down and wrap your mouth around his cock, sucking any retort right out of him.

"Oh, fuck, that's it." He arches his back, driving his cock further down your throat which you readily take, to his surprise.

"Fuck, where did you learn to suck dick like this?" He asks through his moans but you don't bother to answer him. You don't owe him an answer, you just want to shut the bitch up.

But Beomgyu is incapable of shutting up. "Have you been sucking dick on the down low? I didn't know the nerd is such a big slut. Thought you were a good girl."

You detach from his cock to retort, tearing a whine out of him which the idiot is too stupid to realize he is the cause of. "You're one to talk. Look how loudly you're moaning as soon as you get your dick wet. What? No one wants to fuck such a loudmouth?"

"Fuck you." He mutters, and you laugh. "You wish, baby." You smirk, bobbing your head down his cock again, going ruthlessly fast and getting the brat to writhe under you.

You think that would be the end of it but Beomgyu could die and his mouth would still be running. "Seriously, who are you fucking? Taehyun? Soobin? Don't tell me it's that manwhore Yeonjun?"

You pull off his dick in frustration, using your hand to jerk him off roughly instead. "Why do you fucking care who I fuck?"

"I don't care." He huffs, arching his back to push his cock further into your grip. "I just know they can't be fucking you good if you're still so uptight all the time. If you want a good time, I could give you the time of your life."

You burst out laughing, obviously bruising the boy's ego in the process but you don't care. And you don't even bother hiding your incredulity. "You? Do you even see yourself? I'm barely even moving my hand and you're fucking it like a dog in heat. Your dick is drooling all down my arm. You look like you're a few pumps away from creaming yourself. I don't think you'd even make it one stroke inside my pussy before you pop like a virgin."

"No, I'm not." He denies, trying to keep his hips still, clearly fighting with himself. "I can fuck you so good you'll screaming my name."

"You can? You can take hot, tight pussy until I cum? You can have me clench around your needy cock without emptying your balls inside me?" You reach your other hand out to cup his balls, massaging then gently between your fingers, making him suck in a shuddering breath. "You can hold back your hot cum until I'm ready to milk your cock? You won't just break and spurt your cum inside me as soon as you put it in?"

"Fuck, fuck, slow down." He gasps, trying to squirm away from your touch but you hold him tighter, jerking him off steadily.

"Why? Are you going to cum just from my hands? That's disappointing. I thought you wanted to give me the fuck of my life?" You cock your head to side, staring up at him condescendingly, making him shudder.

"Baby, please, slow down?"

"Baby?" You laugh. "Now I'm baby?"

"I can't take much more." He was jerking uncontrollably in your grip but you never let go, taking the hand on his balls off to press it against his lower tummy to hold him in place as you continue jerking off his now very red and slippery cock.

"Are you gonna cum?" You ask again and he nods, biting onto his lip harshly. "Yes, can I?"

You have to say you were taken aback at him suddenly asking for your permission to cum. You would have thought the brat would just do it with no warning. "Aw, baby is asking for permission to cum? If I knew it was this easy to get you to behave, I would have... well, actually I still wouldn't have touched you any sooner. But it's good to know how pathetic you really are."

"Fuck you." He repeats, voice strained in his effort to still hold back.

"You want me to say you can cum?" You tease, twisting your hand over the length of his cock slowly.

He nods. "Yes. Need it. Need it."

"Are you going to be good to me from now on?" You ask and he shakes his head. "You're too fun to tease."

"You are too." You counter, slowing your hand down, making him thrust his hips to try to get more of your touch so you smack his thigh in punishment. "Down, boy!"

"Baby, please!" He begs so sweetly, pining you with his pretty, brown eyes, his dick drooling in your grip.

"Are you going to be good from now on?" You tighten your grip around him as you deliberately move your hand up the entire length of his cock, feeling his precum dripping down your arm.

"Yes, yes, I'll be good. I'll be so good." He babbles, and you know he is lying his ass off, just wanting to say whatever would get you to let him cum, but even that makes you feel so fucking hot. To have that effect on your tormentor after all these years is a fucking head rush.

"God, you're a mess." You mutter, quickening your pace over his cock, making Beomgyu panic. "Wait, wait, can I cum? Can I cum?"

It's a little precious how much he panics over cumming without your explicit permission, so much so you decide to just give it to him, wanting to see the brat completely lose it in your grip.

"You can cum, brat." As soon as you utter the words--as if he was really waiting for them--he explodes, spurting rope after rope of cum down your arm and onto your chest.

"Thank you. Thank you, baby." He cries, emptying himself for you until he can no longer hold himself up anymore and collapses to the ground by your side.

But to your surprise and mild horror, Beomgyu takes a minute to calm himself down before he grabs his own cock and strokes himself to full hardness again, bearing through the pain of overstimulation for a reason that only becomes apparent to you after you ask, "What the hell are you doing, Beomgyu?"

"I promised I can fuck you good, didn't I?"

He really is insane.

____________________

[alygator77]

idk, i've been thinkin about long distance satoru :') just a little something i wrote while experiencing a bit of writers block. it's inspired on a military relationship but it can really be just any long distance!

warnings: nsfw, mdni 18+, smut and fluff

long-distance! satoru whose heart aches when you have to say goodbye, holding you closer just a little bit longer than usual as he tries to memorize every detail��the warmth of your body, the scent of your hair, the way your arms fit perfectly around him. he knows that the absence of your touch will leave him feeling empty again, a void only you can fill.

long-distance! satoru who texts you every morning and night, because you are the first and last thing on his mind.

long-distance! satoru who calls you late one night after a long mission. exhausted but unable to sleep, he finds comfort in the sound of your voice.

“mmm… ‘toru?” the innocent sound of your sleepy voice immediately melts him, his tension easing from your soothing whisper.

“heya sleepy head…you got a minute?”

you stay on the phone with him all night, talking about everything and nothing, until you fall asleep.

long-distance! satoru who listens to your soft, rhythmic breathing through the phone, and quietly confesses how much he misses you, how the sound of your voice and the warmth of your embrace are the only things that keep him grounded in a world that feels increasingly cold without you.

long-distance! satoru who loves when you send him a compilation of short videos to watch, just knowing that you thought of him, carefully selecting each clip to bring a smile to his face. he replays them over and over, allowing himself to feel closer to you, as if each clip is a tiny piece of you that he can hold onto.

long-distance! satoru who dreams of your future together, when the distance will no longer separate you. he envisions the day when he can finally hold you close and never let go. he dreams of lazy mornings spent tangled in the sheets with you, of quiet evenings where you can simply be together without the constant ache of longing. these dreams are what keep him going, a promise of a future where he can finally be by your side, where this long-distance heartache will be nothing but a memory.

long-distance! satoru whose breath hitches when you surprise him when a naughty photo while he’s working.

“fucking hell woman…what are you doing to me?”

long-distance! satoru whose cock strains against his uniform as he sits at his desk, the tantalizing image of you searing itself into his mind, leaving him desperate to touch himself, to feel some semblance of the closeness he craves.

long-distance! satoru who grips his weeping cock as he strokes himself in the privacy of his room, his thoughts consumed by you. the distance between you fades away in his fantasies, replaced by the heat of your body, the taste of your skin, the sound of your voice in his ear.

“fuck princess… I miss you so fucking much,” he whimpers nearing his edge, body trembling as hot spurts of cum paint him pretty, your name falling from his lips as he coats himself with the evidence of his need, his need to fuck you senseless.

long-distance! satoru who lies there afterward, breathless and spent, staring at the ceiling as the reality of your absence settles back in. there’s a bittersweet ache, because he knows it’s not enough—it’ll never be enough until he has you back in his arms, for real.

long-distance! satoru who surprises you with an unexpected visit, appearing at your doorstep after months of being apart. his duty bag slides off his shoulder in the doorframe and his arms open wide, inviting you for the embrace you’ve been yearning for.

“miss me, princess?” his boyish grin is blurred from the happy tears in your eyes, and you immediately throw yourself into his welcoming arms.

long-distance! satoru who wraps around you tightly, lifting you off your feet as he spins you around, laughter filling the air. the warmth of his body against yours is almost overwhelming, and you cling to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you inhale the familiar scent of him.

long-distance! satoru who doesn’t even make it past the doorway before his lips find yours, all teeth and tongue as he kicks the door shut with his foot. his hands roam your body with a hunger that borders on feral.

“let me make up for lost time,” he groans against your lips, a promise and a plea as he presses you against the nearest wall, hips grinding against yours, and you feel just how hard, how desperate, he has been for you.

long-distance! satoru who finally, after months of longing and aching, finds himself buried deep inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync as if no time has passed at all. the sound of your moans, the way you cling to him—it’s everything he’s been dreaming of, and more.

long-distance! satoru who pours everything he’s been holding back into this moment, into you. he groans your name, voice strained with the effort to hold on just a little longer, to make this last, because honestly, he could have cum moments after entering you—your cunt is just too fucking delicious.

long-distance! satoru who knows exactly how to bring you to your own edge, who’s learned your body, knows what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, what makes you arch against him in that delicious way that drives him to the brink.

“cum for me, princess” he commands. and when you do, when your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper, it’s his undoing.

long-distance! satoru who finally lets go with a shuddering gasp, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave.

“fuck, I love you,” he groans, hands gripping your hips as he buries his face in your neck, his needy moans muffled against your skin as he spills his seed inside you, body trembling with the explosive force of it.

long-distance! satoru, who holds you close afterward, your bodies tangled together as you come down from the high. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your shoulder, your lips, whispering sweet nothings as you both drift off to sleep, content in the knowledge that, at least for now, the distance is no more.

[serpentandlily]

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth Part III - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine. 

Warnings: angst angst angst 

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Part III

and when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun. - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The First Attempt

Poison was probably the easiest and cleanest way to kill somebody. It involved very little effort on your part, just a slip of the hand to pour the poison into their drink when they weren't looking. It usually didn't involve blood or puke unless you got one of the nastier poisons, which you never did anyways. Some of the girls were more sadistic though and well, you couldn't blame them for it. 

But while it was the simplest method of killing someone, it was probably one of the harder ones to pull off. First, faeries had very good senses, especially when it came to smell. One sniff of their drink could expose the poison in it, unless you were able to get your hands on one of the odorless ones. Those were more expensive though and Lydia and Keir certainly weren't willing to fund you guys besides your nightly rate from your clients. 

However, when you had made a trip to the apothecary in the underbelly of Hewn City, you had begrudgingly forked over the money for one of those clear, odorless poisons. There was no way anything else would get past Azriel and his shadows. 

Your heart ached in your chest as you stared at the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in your pleasure room. Azriel had been kind to you. He had offered you some mercy by buying out your nights and not returning until that fateful meeting at the party. And while he clearly liked being more dominant while bedding you, his touch had been gentle, soft. No one had ever shown you such care and here you were, plotting out his murder. 

But you simply had to do this. Freedom was only one dead body away for you. One more hit and you could finally wash your hands of this place, disappear to another court—perhaps one that would allow you to bathe in the sunlight for the rest of your days, something the citizens of Hewn City had never really experienced.

Kill Azriel.

Kill the shadowsinger and you'll be free to go. 

Those had been Keir's exact words. 

You had killed before. There was a time when your finger was covered in black lines, a new one added every time you didn't have enough money to pay the house fee or enough for food and had to borrow from Lydia. One every time you failed to perform for a client, no matter what they asked of you. But now you were down to one last mark. 

One for the Shadowsinger. 

One for Azriel. 

You let out a sigh, sitting down at your vanity to brush your hair. Azriel was due to show up any moment now. Ever since that night at the party, he had been coming by at this time every single night. He would buy out all the nights Lydia would allow him to before showing up. 

He never even made it seem like he expected sex on any given night. Sometimes the two of you would just cuddle in bed, whispering stories to each other about your lives. Sometimes he would come all tense and frustrated with whatever the High Lord had demanded of him. On those nights you would offer to give him a massage and listen to him complain about how much he hated his work. It seemed like the two of you had that in common, at the very least. 

You hadn't made any attempts yet. You told yourself it was because you were planning out the best way to kill Azriel. Poison, knives, strangling. There were a multitude of ways to do it. But you knew deep down what the true reason was. You had grown fond of the Shadowsinger. You didn't want to kill him.

But your wants and needs had never really ever agreed with each other your whole life. 

So here you were. Waiting for Azriel to come so you could poison him and be done with this Gods awful place. You wanted out of the labyrinth and unfortunately, this was the only way. 

No matter how much you liked Azriel, he was the one standing in the way of your freedom. 

You saw his shadows before him. They seeped underneath the door to your room like smoke. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of them before pure dread washed over you. 

Kill Azriel. 

Kill him. 

A gentle knock on your door was heard before it was pushed open and the Shadowsinger stepped through the threshold, his beautiful face illuminated by the candlelight. His hazel eyes searched the room until they landed on you and you watched as they lit up ever so slightly—the most emotion he would allow himself to show.

You set your brush down and stood to face him. Azriel stalked forward and by his body language alone, you knew the sort of mood he was in. You braced yourself on the vanity behind you as he came to a halt in front of you, tilting your head up to stare at his lethal and devastatingly beautiful face. 

He didn’t speak as he grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you with a frenzy that lit your body on fire. You returned the passion, stringing your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him. His presence washed over you like a tempestuous storm, all encompassing. You lost yourself in it—in him. 

You had never felt so taken by someone before. But being with Azriel was just so easy. He was a breath of fresh air in this otherwise suffocating labyrinth. 

He pulled away all too soon.

You opened your eyes, heart pounding in your chest. “What was that for?”

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice hoarse. 

You smiled up at him. “You saw me last night, silly.”

“And yet still I miss you the moment I leave.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck and your hands slid into his dark hair. He exhaled a breath that kissed the sensitive skin of your throat. 

You didn’t want to say it out loud, but you felt the same way. Every second apart from Azriel felt like a lifetime. You gently raked your nails over his scalp and you felt his body loosen in your hold, finally relaxing. 

Your eyes fell on the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart. So unassuming. So ordinary. But it held your freedom. You swallowed harshly as Azriel pulled away from you

“Go sit,” you said to him, nudging him in the direction of the couch. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

You watched him take a seat as you moved over to the bar cart. You picked up a whiskey glass, not even realizing how much your hands were shaking until you did so. You quickly set it back down on the cart, taking a deep breath.

You could do this.

All you had to do was just pour him a drink. Just one drink. That’s all it would take. One drink and he’d be dead within the hour. He’d be dead and your bargain with Keir would be over. You would be free. 

“I need to make a trip back to Velaris before it gets too late.” Azriel’s voice caused you to jump, almost knocking over the whole cart. “I have to give my mission report to Rhys before the day is over.” 

“You mean you haven’t gone to see the High Lord before coming here?” 

“No,” Azriel answered. “I…I just wanted to see you first.”

Your heart snapped into a million pieces in your chest. You frowned, staring at the back of his head. You could hear the hesitation in his voice—could feel how much it had taken out of him to admit that. Azriel wasn’t very forthcoming, so to blatantly confess something like that…

Fuck, you couldn’t do this. Not like this. You couldn’t kill him like a Godsdamn coward. 

You grabbed the decanter and dropped it on the floor, watching it smash into a million pieces just like your heart had. The whiskey splattered on the ground, soaking into the carpet. Azriel whipped around at the noise, eyebrows high. 

You turned red and stuttered out, “Oops. I-It slipped right out of my hand.” 

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. You quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. You had been minutes away from killing him. Tears lined your eyes as you knelt down to start picking up the glass shards. Azriel was at your side in a second, grasping your elbow and pulling you up off the ground. 

“Don’t touch it. You’ll cut yourself,” he murmured. “Let me take care of it.” 

His care, his concern, it only made you feel so much worse. You sucked in a breath of air, trying to blink away the tears.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, grasping your face with his scarred hands. He lightly stroked your cheeks with his thumb. “What’s wrong?” 

You stared up at him, into his devastating hazel eyes. “Why are you so kind to me?” Your voice cracked, your throat hoarse as you held back your cries. “I have done nothing to earn your care.” 

“Earn my care? Angel, you don’t have to do anything to earn my care. I care for you because…because,” Azriel paused for a moment, almost like he was debating something. “Because you allow me an escape from my duties—from my incredibly lonely life. When I’m with you, I don’t think about anything else. There is nothing you need to do for me. Just allowing me to see you—to be with you—that is enough.” 

“Azriel, I….” You wanted to tell him everything. Wanted to tell him about your bargain with Keir—about the steward’s demand that you kill him. But the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. “I just wanted to help you relax and I’ve already messed it up. I’m sorry. Let me go down to the cellar to get another bottle—”

“I don’t need alcohol to relax. I just need you, angel.” 

You were speechless. So utterly speechless. Any words you might’ve said got caught in your throat. All you could do was stare up at him—up at this beautiful male who had shown you he was nothing like the reputation that followed him around. He was gentle, kind, and so much better than anyone you’d ever met in this wretched city. He deserved so much more than this, so much more than you. 

“Okay?” Azriel said, knocking you out of your thoughts. 

You nodded your head, swallowing down your cries. 

“Okay,” you murmured back. 

Tonight you’d give him what he wanted. It was the least you could do. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Azriel flew back to Velaris feeling lighter than he had in decades. It was probably irresponsible that he had gone to see his mate before giving his High Lord his mission report, but he had needed to see her. To feel her in his arms after the day he had in the Illyrian mountains. 

Tonight had been a blessing. She always took care of him like she knew exactly what he needed. And tonight he had just needed to hold her. She had talked him into a massage, her hands magic against his skin and muscles and then they had just laid together, talking about everything and nothing. 

He felt more rested than he would have if he had tried to go to sleep. He felt refreshed, buoyant—like he could take on anything that was thrown his way as long as he had his angel to return to. 

It was nearing six in the morning now and he knew Rhys would be awake, usually tending to Nyx while Feyre got some desperately needed rest. He landed with a small thud in front of the River House and quietly made his way inside. He paused as his shadows whispered to him that Rhys was waiting in his office—no babe in sight. 

When he opened the door to the office, Rhys was indeed waiting for him—arms crossed and his brows furrowed. Azriel quietly closed the door behind him, pulling out his report from the shadow realm and setting it on the desk in front of his High Lord. Rhys glanced down at it for a second before looking back at him. 

“Azriel,” Rhys said, “Where have you been all night? I’ve been trying to reach you but your mental shields were up.”

Azriel cleared his throat before answering. “I had a matter to attend to before I came here.” 

He kept his voice devoid of any emotion. He didn’t want anyone to find out about her yet—his angel. She was his for now. His secret, his love, his mate. 

Rhys raised an eyebrow at him, nostrils flaring. “Is this matter the reason why you smell of cheap perfume and aphrodisiacs?” 

Azriel shrugged, nonchalantly. “This matter is none of your business.” 

“Am I wrong to assume that your scent means that you’ve taken my advice?” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched but he refrained from speaking in anger. “Everything you need to know about the mission is in that report,” he said, nodding towards the file on Rhys’s desk. “If that is all, I will take my leave.” 

Rhys frowned. “No, that is not all. Please, sit, Azriel. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” 

Azriel begrudgingly sat in the armchair in front of Rhys’s desk. All he wanted to do was go back to his apartment and get ready to see his angel again in a few hours. He’d once again bought out all her time slots, leaving her with no clients other than himself. Meanwhile, he tried every night to convince her to leave with him, to return with him to Velaris. But something was holding her back…or perhaps she didn’t feel for him the way he did for her. 

That was a depressing thought that he frequently lingered on. 

“What is it?” Azriel asked, wanting to get this conversation over with. 

Rhys rubbed his jaw, his striking violet eyes assessing Azriel. “I’ve been meaning to apologize for the way I spoke to you on Solstice Night. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t angry when I saw you and Elain together, so ready to make your…affections known in plain sight—especially when she has yet to reject the bond with Lucien. But I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.” 

Azriel tensed in his chair at the memory of that night—at the cruel words Rhys had thrown his way. But unlike before, no hurt came from the memory. No hurt, no longing, no despair. Nothing. Instead, where that hole had been in his chest before was now filled with thoughts and longing for his angel…his sweet mate. 

“It’s fine,” Azriel replied, stiffly. “You did the right thing. It would have been a political nightmare had Lucien seen us.” 

Rhys nodded. “It would’ve. Especially with how many ties he has to other courts—other courts we’re still trying to repair our reputation with. But I treated you like one of my subjects that night and not like a friend. It wasn’t just Lucien I was thinking of, but you too, Azriel. I don’t want to see you hurt if you give your all to Elain and she decides to pursue the bond further down in the line.” 

“It wasn’t your choice to make. It was mine,” Azriel can’t help but say. To his surprise, Rhys nodded his agreement.

“You're right. It is not my choice nor is it my life to live,” Rhys said. “Which is why I’ve decided to rescind my orders for you to stay away from her. I just ask that if you two do pursue something together, please use discretion—especially when Lucien is around. At least until she fully rejects the bond or tells him of her own affairs. Is that reasonable enough?” 

Azriel stood from his seat. “I appreciate the apology, Rhys. But everything else is not needed. I have no plans to pursue Elain or court her. Is that all?” 

Rhys stood as well, his jaw flexing. “So I was right, then? You were willing to throw away our relations with other courts for a female you have no interest in months later? Azriel, I can’t even speak to how irresponsible that would’ve been.” 

“Well, nothing happened. You intervened at the right moment,” Azriel said, coldly. 

Rhys studied him again. “No, that isn’t like you, Az. Something else has happened. Does this have anything to do with that female you had hanging off you in Hewn City? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with a prostitute of all people now.” 

Anger striked through Azriel like lightning. 

“Watch how you speak about her,” he snarled, hands flexing. 

Rhys gaped at him with a disbelieving look. “Godsdamnit, Azriel. Are you that desperate for love that you have truly fallen for someone you’re paying to be in your company?”

“If you are truly my brother,” Azriel growled. “If you truly have my best interest in mind, then you will drop this now. I don’t need your advice or your concern.” 

“Of course I have your best interests in mind! But, Azriel, this is lunacy. I don’t know what that female has told you, but she only cares for your money. If you had any sense, you’d put a stop to this—”

Azriel lunged forward, slamming his hands on Rhys’s desk, shadows spiraling around him. 

“I said,” he snapped, bearing his teeth, his voice as cold as ice. “Watch how you speak about her.” 

Rhys’s mouth dropped open in shock and before he could say anything else, Azriel disappeared in a flurry of shadows. He needed to leave, far too tempted to rearrange Rhys’s face with his fists. So he let his shadows take him somewhere else he knew he could let off steam—the training ring.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The Second Attempt 

Azriel was laying next to you, fast asleep. Even his shadows had rescinded to the dark corners of the room, content to leave their master in your hands. The hands that were currently holding a dagger, shaking as you straddled his sleeping body. 

Why was this so hard?

You had killed plenty of males like this before. 

But as you stared down at Azriel’s beautifully peaceful face, something ached terribly in your chest. He looked so much more boyish when he slept. His dark hair tousled, his large wings relaxed, the harsh lines of his face smoothed out. 

The room was dark except for the singular candle on your nightstand, half illuminating his handsome face. He was nude from the waist up, his swirling Illyrian tattoos on display—tattoos you often traced over as the two of you laid in bed together. 

It had taken a while for Azriel to actually fall asleep in your presence. The first few times he had spent the night, you had woken up to him holding you in his arms, staring at you as though you were his entire world—like nothing else mattered in that moment but you. It had caused your heart to flutter and ache. 

But now here he was, asleep. A sign that he trusted you now. Trusted that he could sleep and not have to be vigilant. And he looked so vulnerable like this. Gentle and soft. Nowhere was the usual foreboding and threatening aura that followed him around.

So vulnerable. 

So unassuming.

So clueless that you were currently straddling him with a dagger held above your head, ready to strike. 

You blinked as you felt watchful eyes on you, freezing. His shadows had meandered out of the dark recesses of the room, slowly crawling your way—like they were giving you the opportunity to stop this yourself before they intervened.

You let out a deep breath and lowered your arms. 

Poisoning him had been a coward’s move and so was killing him in his slumber. If his shadows had any sense, they’d strangle you right here and now. You fell off of him, laying back down at his side. The shadows rescinded, the threat gone in their eyes. 

But as long as your freedom was dependent on Azriel’s life, he would always be in danger around you. No matter how much you wished to not hurt him. No matter what you felt for him. 

Azriel had to die. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Azriel had never felt happiness like this before you. Not truly. He hadn’t even known it, hadn’t known that this was something he could feel. But here he was, his heart full and his mind at peace. There was only one thing that could make this better than it was.

He ghosted his scarred fingers over your bare back, lightly touching your soft skin. You were laying on your stomach next to him, nude except for the silk sheets pulled to your waist. 

His lips twitched as you let out a tiny noise of satisfaction at his touch, turning your head on your folded hands so you could stare up at him. 

He would never tire of staring at you—at your beautiful, serene face. Your alias made perfect sense. Serenity. That was what you made him feel. Though he felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of how many other males might’ve felt like this around you. 

The only solace he had now was making sure that you were his from now on. He didn’t care how much money he had to spend to keep you occupied with him. So long as it meant you’d be his angel and no one else’s. 

You smiled up at him and the sight was so breathtaking, he lost his train of thought. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked in that sweet voice that melted his ice cold heart. 

“You,” Azriel replied, honestly. 

You scrunched your nose at him, your smile growing. He trailed a finger down the slope of it, watching your eyes flutter at his soft touch. 

“That’s what you always say.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the truth.” 

“You're sweet,” you teased, making him chuckle.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever described me as sweet, Angel.”

It was your turn to shrug a shoulder. “You’re sweet to me.” 

“You’re special,” he said, so genuinely that it made your heart skip a beat. 

“Am I?” 

“Yes,” he said, brushing your hair off your back and over your shoulder. “Of course you are.” 

You closed your eyes with a hum, content as he began to trace lines down your back again. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Your eyes flew open, brows furrowing. You gave him a small nod, curiously. 

“Do you…” he trailed off for a second, his voice lacking the sureness it had a moment ago. “Do you…feel this—this thing between us the way I do?”

“Azriel,” you warned, making his hand pause on your back. This was a topic you tried to stray away from with clients. You weren’t supposed to develop true feelings for any of them and you hadn’t. Not until…

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “I understand your line of work. But I…I can’t help what I feel, Angel. Tell me you feel it too.” 

You frowned, a nasty feeling coiling in your gut. It should be easy to say no. But that wouldn’t be the truth, would it? No, the truth was you did feel it—that fiery energy between the two of you. Azriel was different. He didn’t feel like a client. He called you by your real name, knew personal details about your life. All things you had shared for some unknown reason. 

All you knew was that you had wanted to share those things with him so you did. You wanted Azriel in a way you’d never wanted anyone else. You wanted to know him, craved his presence when he was gone, loved being with him like this. 

The line between the two of you was so blurred, you weren’t sure it had ever existed in the first place. 

You looked back up at him, your eyes conveying the things you couldn’t yet say out loud. Because you couldn’t let yourself feel like this. 

But Azriel stared back at you, knowingly, like he could read everything you had spelled out in your mind. “You don’t have to say it, Angel. I just need to know.” 

You rolled onto your back, letting out a sigh. “Azriel, we can’t—”

“Why not?” He cut in. “Why not, Angel? If you…if you feel something for me then please, take me up on my offer. Let me take you to Velaris. You don’t even have to live with me. I can buy you your own apartment and anything you need. You’d never have to work again. I could take care of you, Angel, the way you deserve to be taken care of.” 

And what a life that would be. Free of this place, of this gods awful city. Free to live with Azriel. Free to do as you please. Free to bask under the sun, to see the stars in all their glory—no longer buried under this mountain. 

But it wasn’t possible. It was a dream and only a dream. So long as that mark was still on your finger, this was all you could offer him before he’d meet his demise. 

“Azriel, I can’t,” you murmured. “You know this.” 

“But why? Whatever reason or worry you have, tell me. I can’t stand leaving you here day and night. I can’t stand the thought of another having you.”

You rose from the bed, hiding your face from his sight so he didn’t see the tears lining your eyes. You quickly shrugged on a night gown, hugging yourself as you lingered by your dresser. 

You didn’t want to talk about this. You didn’t want to confront this head on. You couldn’t. Just like your other dreams, it would never come true for you. 

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had pushed too far but he couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry. I’ll drop it just please come back to bed.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. You should kick him out, send him home. You should tell him to never come back even if it meant you’d be stuck in this place forever without his death on your hands. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Come back.” 

The pure desperation in his voice had you folding. You laid back down next to him, let him take you in his strong arms once again. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The Third Attempt

It had taken at least twenty minutes for you to lug Azriel off the bed and into the chair that you dragged into the center of the room. The faebane laced sleep draught had done its part in this scheme. Azriel had been knocked out, his shadows nowhere to be seen. 

And now you were tying him to the chair with some strong rope, in knots you knew he wouldn't be able to undo. 

Another week had gone by with no attempts on his life due in part to your growing feelings for the shadowsinger. But a visit from Keir had you snapping out of whatever hold Azriel had on you. You needed to do this. You needed to kill him and put an end to this. It wasn't fair, it was never going to be fair but it had to happen.

Out of all the males you had killed, you knew this was the only one that would linger with you for the rest of your life. But it was a necessary sacrifice if it meant you could not only leave this awful city but this Labyrinth too. 

You decided you weren't going to be a coward about this. Azriel deserved to be looked in the eyes as you killed him, otherwise the shame might just eat you alive. It would be so much easier to just try and poison him again but you knew this was the only way it would get done. Maybe you could explain it to him, maybe he would understand. 

Hell, part of you was hoping he'd fight his way from the binds and end your life himself. Would that be a better outcome to this mess? 

You were still debating that.

For now you leaned against the wall, fiddling with your dagger as you waited for him to wake up. You had spent all last night making sure he was happy—content. You had given him everything. Your body, your heart, your mind. It would be your last gift to him. 

But your freedom was hanging in the air between the two of you and that far outweighed anything else. You had been lost in this labyrinth for far too long. It was time for you to finally find your way out. Unfortunately, your way out was through th—killing the one male who had made you feel things you'd never thought you would.

"A-Angel?"

Azriel's hoarse voice made you stand up straight, your gaze falling on him tied to the chair. He blinked a few times, still a bit drowsy from the draught. You watched as he slowly realized his predicament, that he was tied up and without his shadows. He yanked at the binds that had his arms held behind his back, strung up to the chair. 

"Angel," he repeated, finally catching sight of you, "What...what is this? Why...why am I tied up?" 

You stalked forward and he noticed the dagger you held in your hand. His eyes went wide with alarm and he stared up at you in disbelief. He tried to yank himself free again, making the wood of the chair groan. 

“What are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to do this,” you started with a sigh. 

Azriel stopped his struggling, raising an eyebrow at you. “Do what?”

“Kill you,” you said, bluntly. 

Azriel was silent for a moment before he burst into laughter. Your brows furrowed in confusion at his reaction. Normally this was when males started demanding you untie them or pleading for their lives depending on how much pride they had. 

“What’s so funny?” You snapped, taking a step closer to him. 

Azriel shook his head, his laughter fading. “You’re not going to kill me.” 

You frowned. “I am. I have to.” 

Azriel leaned back in the chair, his wings held out proudly. He had completely ceased his struggling, all the alarm gone from his eyes. “And pray tell, Angel, why do you have to kill me?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you answered quickly, trying to regain your composure. “Not to you anyways.” 

“Well, seeing as I am the one about to die,” Azriel remarked, so nonchalantly, “then I think it does matter.”

He smirked at you, furthering your confusion. Why was he acting so…so calm?! You narrowed your eyes at him, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Why are you smiling?” You huffed, fisting his hair and pulling his head back to expose his throat. You pressed the dagger against his pulse point. 

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control here,” he shrugged, that smile not leaving his face. 

“I am in control here,” you snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the one tied up!”

“Am I?” He drawled out before yanking at the binds again. “Ah, you’re right. I am.”

You stepped away from him with a sneer. “Why are you acting like this!”

“Like what, Angel?” He smirked at you again, flicking his hair out of his face. 

“Like I’m not about to kill you! Like you’re not about to die!” 

“I’m hoping we can talk this out,” Azriel shrugged. 

“There is nothing to talk about,” you growled, frustrated. You’d expected some yelling or shouts from him, maybe a few pleas thrown in but not whatever this was. 

“I beg to differ,” he replied, “seeing as I’m about to die, I’d like to know why.” 

“Because…you…I—fuck!” You turned away from him, holding the sides of your head in exasperation. You squeezed your eyes shut, Keir’s words replaying in your head on repeat. 

The smile dropped from Azriel’s face at the show of your distress. “Angel, come on. Just drop the dagger and talk to me. Whoever has put you up to this can be dealt with.” 

“You don’t understand,” you cried out. 

“Then make me understand,” Azriel pleaded. “Please.” 

“I have to kill you, Azriel,” you wept. “I have to or I’ll be stuck here forever.” 

“Stuck here? Stuck in The Labyrinth?”

“Yes!” You let out a tiny sob, still not facing him. “If I don’t….if I don’t kill you, I won’t be able to leave.” 

“Angel,” Azriel whispered, “Why would you be stuck here? If you need help leaving, I’ve already offered to get you out.” 

You whirled around to face him. “I can’t just leave, don’t you get it! I can’t just walk out of here like you. I’m trapped.”

“Trapped? Angel, please explain it to me. You’re not making any sense.”

“I was so, so stupid. So stupid, so naive,” you cried. 

“Just tell me what it is,” Azriel said, gently. “Let me help you!”

“You can’t,” you whispered, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. “You can’t help me. Not with this.” 

“Why?”

“Because I made a bargain with Keir,” you said, staring down at the dagger in your hand. “All the girls here have to do it. We get to work here, not get sold off and eventually we will be allowed to leave but…”

“Not without a price,” Azriel filled in the blanks. “So what do you owe Keir favors or something?”

You shook your head. “We’re given marks and targets. He tells us a name and we…we kill them for him.” 

“And let me guess, Keir gave you my name?”

“Yes, he did,” you sighed. “You’re supposed to be my last mark. After this…I’ll be free.”

Silence fell over the room. Silence until Azriel uttered one sentence. 

“So kill me.”

Your head shot up in surprise. “W-what?”

“Kill me,” he repeated, staring directly into your eyes. “If it means you’ll be free, if it means you can leave this place and have a life of your own…kill me.”

“Azriel,” you murmured. “I—”

Azriel yanked himself out of the binds, causing you to gasp. He gripped your arm and dragged you to him, angling the dagger right against his heart.

“Do it, Angel,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Kill me. I want you to be free. I want a better life for you. So kill me.” 

You stared at him, tears pouring down your face. Your hand was shaking as you held the dagger against his skin. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Azriel was giving you his permission, telling you to do it, to kill him. 

He kept a firm grip on your wrist, burying the dagger deeper so it pricked his skin. A small droplet of blood formed, sliding down his bare chest. “Do it, Angel, please.” 

“I-I…I can’t,” you sobbed. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself to push the dagger straight through to his heart, you couldn’t. “I can’t.” 

“Why?” Azriel asked. “Why can’t you?”

“I just…I can’t—”

“Why!” Azriel shouted, making you jump. Your hand was shaking so bad now, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “Why can’t you do it! Tell me why!”

“I don’t know,” you stuttered out through a sob. “I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do,” Azriel said, sternly. “You know why.”

You shook your head, sobbing. He pressed the dagger deeper into his skin. “Why can’t you kill me, Angel? Come on, you know. You know why.” 

He was right. 

You knew why.

You’d known all along. Since the moment you had laid eyes on him that night he came to your room. Something deep inside of you had recognized it and subconsciously buried it. But you couldn’t deny it any longer. 

“Say it,” Azriel demanded. “You know why. Say it!”

You let out a sob.

“You’re….you’re my mate.”

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

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[maximoff-pan]

(don't want to) fight this feeling | colin bridgerton

summary: this is what happens after a friend asks another friend to kiss them – or simply just the aftermath of two people realizing there might be more between them and being awkward fools on their journey to get there

pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warning(s): idiots in love, absolute fools, absolute awkwardness, fluff, some kissing, a tad suggestive, rusty and heavily unedited writing (sue me, it's been a while)

a/n: hello you lovely peoples! it's been a while... this is my first time writing for colin so I apologize if the characterization feels a bit off. I'm still quite rusty in the writing department, but I hope you enjoy this regardless! as always, feedback and comments are much appreciated and I love you all!

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

‘Colin, please–’ Your voice is unwavering, and yet he can’t help but relish in the fact that you’re begging – pleading for him. In all the years he’d known you, you’ve never been one to grovel. 

‘Tell me.’ He breathes, eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. ‘Use your words.’

Your lips, swollen from kissing him, part enough for you to say: ‘I want you Colin. All of you.’

And in that moment, everything fades…

•••

Colin wakes abruptly, chest heaving and covered in sweat. It’s been happening more and more recently, these dreams. Dreams of desire, an incessant yearning for the feeling of your lips on his.

He doesn’t know what to call it. Infatuation perhaps – a pure and raw chemical reaction of attraction – however wrong it may be. You’re his dearest friend, and the kiss you’d shared was merely an innocent gesture, a favour for a person he cares about dearly. Your first kiss – hardly his first, yet he’d never understood the true meaning of voracity before it. 

Saying it meant nothing doesn’t feel right. And chalking up this sensation to a merely physical response feels even more wrong. It’s simply not enough to describe the way his heart races when he thinks of you, how his breath catches in his throat and words become obsolete. He dares to wonder if your friendship could blossom into something more, if you even feel the same. Is this what love feels like? 

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

He’s kissing you again, this time like he may never get the chance to again. However frantic, it’s sweet. It’s like him – feels like Colin.

‘You’re so beautiful.’ He says in a whisper.

You chuckle a content laugh, running a hand through his soft and perfectly styled hair. ‘Not near as beautiful as you, Mr. Bridgerton.’

The moment feels so real, feels like it should be. But you know it’s a figment of your mind working against you as your eyes open to the unfortunate sight of your ceiling. 

•••

Your chest rises and falls rhythmically, awoken by the sunlight drifting through your bedroom window, along with thoughts of him. Last week you had been simply a girl – one who had never felt the kiss of a man, one who thought she may never be so lucky. But today, you are a woman who has, no matter the circumstances. 

You’d asked Colin to kiss you, not out of desperation, but out of curiosity and loneliness perhaps. You wanted to know what you were missing out on, what such intimacy could mean for a person. And there is no man you would trust with your reputation more than him. 

The pit in your stomach however, grows with each passing moment. You wonder, have you made a mistake? Are these things you’re feeling for Colin a mere fantasy – a result of a heat of the moment. You can’t help but feel like there has always been something there for you, something just beneath the surface of your friendship.

It’s silly to believe Colin could feel that way about you. But kissing him, feeling the touch of his lips to your own has left you with a want for him – a need for him that you have been taught is unacceptable for a woman to voice. And suddenly, there’s shame. These desires are not natural, not realistic, not feminine. 

But how are you supposed to go on as if it meant nothing to you? How are you supposed to talk to him again, look him in the eye and have everything be as it once was? Colin Bridgerton is not someone who you’ve had to hide your feelings from. It’s always been a lost cause – he has you memorized like a book he’s read thousands of times. Maybe even one that he’d written himself.

And you’re certain he’ll be able to sense the shift in your behaviour, and likely the reason why. You only hope he’ll let you down gently because at the end of every day, your friendship is what matters most to you. 

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

Side by side with Eloise, you smile as she prattles on about the latest novel she’s been reading. Usually her conversation holds your full attention; often she doesn’t give you a choice otherwise. But today, you can’t help but find your mind drifting somewhere else. 

Your gaze meets Colin’s for a brief moment from across the grassy field in Hyde Park. Where you once found comfort in the blue of his eyes, now your stomach turns with unease. He’s surrounded by a gaggle of young ladies, surely desperate to get his attention. Colin would make a suitable husband for any one of them, you think. 

You look away from him just as quickly as you’d caught his stare, the dirt below your feet suddenly becoming intriguingly interesting. Eloise takes note of the interaction, her lips pulling into a thin frown. 

“Is everything alright?” Eloise asks, an eyebrow raised in query before clarifying, “Between you and my brother.” 

Your gaze refuses to meet hers. You’re afraid that she'll be able to see right through you. “Is there something that indicates otherwise?”

You recognize the defensive nature of your response is likely to garner more suspicion, but it’s difficult to think of an appropriate answer when the question regards Colin Bridgerton. Somehow, thoughts of him make everything more complicated.  

“It’s just,” she treads lightly, walking swiftly alongside you, “this is the fourth time in a week you two have been in each other’s presence, and you’ve barely spoken. You typically seek Colin out, and him you. And now I get the sense you are avoiding him.”

You glance back over to him, watching as he continues to entertain the same group of young ladies, however his audience seems to have grown.

“He looks rather busy, does he not?”

You don’t mean for your voice to sound so apathetic, so uncaring as it does. But Eloise recognizes that you care a great deal. You’re jealous. 

“I suppose he is.” She smiles, knowing just how much Colin must hate the predicament he’s found himself in. “How about we rescue him?”

You mean to protest, but Eloise doesn’t give you a chance to respond before she’s dragging you by the arm towards the one person you do not wish to speak to at the moment. It’s been terribly awkward since you’d asked Colin to kiss you, and you can’t help but knowing that it’s your fault.

You were the one who promised it would mean nothing, and you suppose it had meant nothing to him – but you should have known the ramifications would be disastrous for you. Who asks their best friend (whomst they are in love with) to kiss them and then expects their feelings not to grow tenfold? 

“Brother!” Eloise pushes into the group with your arm wrapped around hers. 

Colin’s face lights at the sound of her voice, relief flooding his features. “Eloise,” he responds, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The young women around him sigh at his words. Had they never heard a man be polite with his sister before? Surely that couldn’t be anything special. 

You roll your eyes as one of them decides to cling herself onto Colin’s side. The rumblings of jealousy aside (which you really shouldn’t be feeling), this behaviour is utterly pathetic to you. 

Eloise notes your distaste with an amused chuckle. “We’ve come to take you back to Bridgerton House for Kate and Anthony’s luncheon. Mama’s orders.”

“Oh…oh!” Colin recognizes her attempt at a rescue. “My god, it must have slipped my mind. If you will forgive me ladies,” he sends them a charmingly teasing wink, “it has been wonderful getting to know you all.”

Taking his leave with you and his sister, Colin tips his hat politely, departing from the group. Eloise marches slightly ahead of the two of you, eyes set on the carriages you are to ride back to your respective households in. 

The silence feels suffocating and unfamiliar. It’s uncomfortable and exactly what you’d hoped it wouldn’t be.  Eloise turns to you suddenly as you reach your separate transports. “Are you sure you won’t ride back with us? Surely we can take you home.” She says.

You force a smile. “Positive.” You affirm. “My driver is already here. It would be rude of me to have brought him here only to leave without me.” 

“Alright then.” She hugs you as she takes a step into her carriage. She leaves the door open for her brother as his gaze catches yours for a moment. This might be the longest you’ve gone in his presence in total silence. 

You break away from his piercing stare, taking a breath in apprehension. “Goodbye Mr. Bridgerton.” You say, finally. 

“Goodbye Miss (L/n).” He returns with a nod. 

Turning away, you step into your carriage as a driver closes the door for you. That interaction felt wrong, awkward, and difficult. Nothing like the ease of conversation you are used to.

Colin feels much the same as he sits in the Bridgerton carriage, eyes glossed over in thought. 

Eloise wants to smack him but decides against it in better judgment. She simply watches him for a few moments – sees his discomfort and wonders what could have possibly gone wrong between you and her brother. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Colin’s eyes meet hers. He means it as a joke, but his tone does not convey it that way. 

“What is rude, brother,” she tuts, her position on this very firm, “is treating your best friend as if she is a stranger.”

“Eloise.” Colin warns.

“No.” She holds her palm up, objecting to his dissuasion. “What happened between you?”

He scoffs. “Does privacy mean nothing to you?”

He’s being evasive and defensive – much like your previous response to her questioning. Usually Colin only gets like this when feelings are involved. The last time Eloise had seen him behave this way, Marina had been at the center of it. 

He’d become distant and dejected from the ordeal. The overall rejection, knowing she hadn’t really loved him had caused him to turtle in on himself. And the only person who’d been able to pull him out of it, had been you. Now he seems to be going back in. 

Colin had always been sensitive, more in touch with his emotions than any of her other brothers, but that often left him more open to heartbreak. 

“You love her.” Eloise finally decides to say. 

Colin doesn’t react the way she thinks he will. “Of course.” He replies like it’s obvious. “(Y/n) is my dearest and oldest friend.”

“Allow me to rephrase.” She clarifies, “You are in love with her.”

At that, his reaction is much different. Eyebrows raised and blinking nearly too rapidly for Eloise to perceive – this is what she expected. He’s been caught.

He stutters on his words. “You – you cannot be serious! I’m not – I am not in love…”

Colin feels like he’s breaking. Because as perceptive as Eloise is, so are you; and if Eloise can read him this clearly, he fears you can too.

Her voice is gentle when she speaks, not for a second believing this display of refusal to admit his feelings. “Have you told her how you feel?”

Colin gives up, retreating in on himself. His posture slumps in defeat. “No.” He says. “And I cannot for the life of me, get her out of my mind. It’s like every time I close my eyes, I feel—”

Eloise edges closer to him when Colin stops himself with a sharp inhale. “Feel what?”

I feel her lips on mine, he thinks. 

He frowns, gaze falling downward. “Nothing.”

“Colin…”

“Eloise for Christ’s sake,” he barks, “I said it is nothing.”

His voice is cold and unforgiving, like a switch has been flicked and Eloise cannot begin to understand why. Colin is clearly leaving something out — something important. And it’s a sore topic for him. 

“Whatever it is,” she eyes him cautiously. “You need to tell her.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

The afternoon carries on uncomfortably, your mind still on overdrive from your unsettling encounter with Colin. The ride home had given you too much time to think. Too much time to worry, and it had only further worsened the pit in your stomach. 

Your mother had questioned why you’d arrived back so early, having previously planned to spend an afternoon at the Bridgertons. Telling her you felt unwell, you made your way to your room, collapsing on the mattress of your bed with a sigh.

Before long, you’re being informed you have a visitor who’s waiting for you in the drawing room. You’re fairly certain who it is. Eloise has always been a caring friend, if not a little motivated to meddle. Who you were not expecting to see, is her brother Benedict. What interest does he have in this?

“You know you needn’t come see me.” You say flippantly as you enter the room where she’s sitting on the couch with a book on her lap, her second oldest sibling sitting beside her. “Benedict.” You nod at him politely. He returns the gesture as an acknowledgement of his presence. 

“I must say,” she disagrees, “I felt a little obligated to check on you.”

“And why is that?” Benedict jumps in with a smirk.

She sends him a look of disapproval. He knows exactly why.

“Colin was not himself today.” Eloise settles on. Equally pointed, she asserts, “Nor were you.”

“I suppose there is no hiding it from you.” You admit, taking a seat across from them. “Our lack of conversation was abnormal.”

She chuckles at that. “It is usually so difficult to get a word in edgewise when you two are together. But today, it was like you could not even look each other in the eye.”

“I do apologize.” You say dejectedly. “I feel that has much to do with me.”

Eloise frowns at your admission. “I cannot say that I have the context needed to understand what is going on between you, but I do know that Colin does not blame you.”

You release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, air escaping your lungs. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” She responds, looking to Benedict to see if he knows anything more. He shakes his head. “And I – we respect your privacy not to push you into telling us something you’re not ready to.”

You smile softly. “That sounds nothing like the Eloise I know.”

“I am trying to be supportive.” She huffs a laugh, tone light and joking. 

“Well, since you did not ask,” you begin, wringing your hands and fingers together, a nervous energy Eloise is not used to from you, “I asked Colin to kiss me.”

Her brow furrows in confusion, no indication of shock on her features. Colin is in love with you, she thinks. How could things have possibly ended this way? She doesn’t stop you, allowing you to take a pause before you continue.

“I was feeling down. Function after function, I leave with no prospects, and my chances of finding a husband feel as if they are less than nothing.” Your eyes lock with hers, knowing she does not share the same sentiment of finding a life partner. “I did not want to die not knowing what it felt like to kiss someone.”

Benedict’s eyes search yours. He feels your heart yearning, feels the curiosity and desperation in your voice. He sympathizes with you, wholly. 

“You must know (Y/n),” He speaks, eyes twinkling with knowledge neither you nor his sister are privy to. “The only reason you have not been called upon is because of Colin.”

Eloise turns to him in disbelief. “Brother…” She trails.  

Simultaneously, you blurt, “excuse me?”

“Explanation Benedict.” Eloise chimes, impatiently.  “Now.”  

Benedict eyes you carefully before he begins his account of the situation. And as he’s speaking, your world fades away. His voice becomes distorted, like static – you find yourself unable to hear what he’s saying. 

What you do manage to pick up is that Colin had labelled you off limits. No gentleman of the ton stood a chance against his protective eye…because as Benedict finishes he says, “No one could be right for you, except him.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

Stepping into Bridgerton House, you feel like your blood is boiling. 

“Miss (L/n).” Violet greets you pleasantly. She’s always been kind, warm, and welcoming. 

“Afternoon, Lady Bridgerton.” You force a smile, nodding gently in her direction. “Is Colin home?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Her voice is gentle but knowing. She’s well aware of the feelings you and her son share. “In the study.”

“Thank you.” You’re grateful; she recognizes that.

Pushing up the stairs and through the hallway, past the door to the study, you forget to knock. Inside you find Colin sitting at the desk, pen in hand. But he’s not writing. He’s simply staring into space. 

“You had no right.” You announce yourself. 

His eyes shoot to yours. “(Y/n).” Is all he can manage to say. With one look, he knows exactly what this is about. 

“You knew – you knew how helpless I felt.” There’s pain written in your expression, a betrayal of trust. “I thought the reason I could not find a husband was because I was so unlikeable – that I was not worthy of another’s love.” Tears threaten to fall.

Colin tries to interject, but all that comes out is a strangled whisper, please, none of that is true. 

“I told you how I was feeling! You — you let me think it was my fault.” Tears lace your waterline like one of the fabrics on your dresses. “And God,” pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh in exasperation, “I asked you to kiss me because I thought no man could ever think of me that way…”

“You have to let me explain.” Colin pleads, voice just as desperate as yours. 

“What is there to explain Mr. Bridgerton?”

“I love you.” He shouts, tears in his own eyes. 

You’re taken aback. Of course you knew he loved you, as a dear friend. He’d told you that countless times, as you had him. But the way his gaze is piercing yours, the way his voice trembles – this doesn’t feel like something just a friend is saying. 

He relents. “I could not watch you with another, especially when I know these men well…I know their intentions, their thoughts that run wild with impurities.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his dress shirt, unease creeping up on him. “And I fear I have been having these thoughts myself.”

“Colin.” You murmur, taking a step toward him. Your anger is slowly dissipating, although still bubbling under the surface. 

“I have not been able to sleep without dreaming of you. I close my eyes and all that appears is the moment I felt your lips on mine.” He pauses, taking a shuddered breath. “And I, I – I try to stop myself because I know you wanted it to mean nothing. But it meant everything to me.”

You feel your heart lurch in your chest. He’d been having these same worries, the same thoughts, dissuading him from believing you could be anything more than friends. That it wasn’t right any other way. But it is; you know it could be.

“I was scared.” You inch your way closer to him, voice softer now. “I did not want to face my feelings. I cannot tell you when they changed, when you became the only man I could ever dream of loving. But they did. And I thought if you knew, you would never look at me the same again.”

“You are not wrong.” He admits, palm reaching to cup the side of your face. “I cannot look at you as I once did, but as the woman I wish to spend the rest of my life with. As the woman who I shall love until my very last breath.”

Your eyes meet his, a sea of blue simply pouring with emotion. His eyes had always been so expressive, a window to his beautifully crafted soul. “Colin, I love you.” You whisper. 

His other hand comes to cup the untouched side of your face, leaning down to kiss you. It’s less sweet than your first – more passionate, more experienced than the last. You can feel the inner turmoil dissipate from your body and his as you embrace each other. 

Colin kisses you like you’re oxygen and he’s struggling to breathe. As if he needs you to keep him alive. He supposes that’s true: a life without you would not be a life worth living. 

Pulling away from him, your smile is unmatched. It’s like nothing Colin has ever seen before, and there’s a hint of something in it that he cannot read.

“What are you thinking?” He taps the side of your head jokingly, right where your temple rests.

You giggle lightly. “Benedict told me that no one could be right for me, except you.”

“Did he now?” Colin chuckles with you, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your hand. “And?”

Taking a moment to soak it all in before you respond, you grin: wide and proud.

“He was right.”

[luveline]

i'm missing coworker!james so much... is he doing okay?

James is poorly :( fem

James is a cruel kind of ill. Desperate to escape the dreaded ‘man flu’, he tries hard to portray the common cold. Doesn’t whine, groan or moan, simply suffers the near constant sneezing and his twinging neck without comment. 

Luckily, he has two —two! because you like him enough to be concerned! barely!— nice deskmates who ply him with tea and worry alike. 

“Did you take that antihistamine?” Remus asks. 

“I did, yeah. You watched me take it an hour ago and try as I might, I haven’t regurgitated it yet.” 

“Don’t be disgusting, he’s just worried,” you say. 

A month ago, you might’ve said it with deep, genuine ire. James annoys you and his choice of imagery is hardly workplace appropriate, but for some reason you’re good to him lately. You’re softening, and why shouldn’t you be? James is a boy worth softening for. 

He sneezes hard into a tissue in his palm and knocks the desk, sending his small crowd of figurines skittering, their light green bodies scuffed with scratches. They fall over each day. You like rearranging them. 

You also like feeding James biscuits, and pretending you don’t like him. Or maybe pretending you do. It’s hard to tell what’s real. 

“Jesus,” he says, forgetting to be demure as he drops his forehead against his closed fist. “I can’t take it much longer.” 

“You need to calm down, is all. Every time you sneeze you trigger the inflammation in your nose, which makes you more likely to sneeze again,” Remus says. He doesn’t sound particularly pitying, but he does then stand to grab James’ mug as he heads to the kitchen. 

In an office made up of mostly Brits, it’s extremely common for everyone to make one another a tea or coffee when they get one for themselves, but it’s a sweet gesture for Remus to keep James topped up nonetheless. It also provides for moments like this: you and him alone. Not awkward anymore. 

“Do you have painkillers?” he asks.

You open the drawer of your desk and offer him your pouch. “Here.” 

Inside are many things. A box of lil-lets, plasters in sterile wrappings, throat soothers, ibuprofen, a treasure trove of cures for little ailments. 

“Just, help yourself to anything you want.” 

“You’re an angel.” James unveils a shiny purple chocolate bar. “I can have Freddie?”

“Freddo,” you correct. “Come on, James, it’s on the packet.” 

He doesn’t truly want it. He doubts he could taste it, and he drops it back in. 

“Oh, no, you can have it!” you say, softer. “I’m just being pedantic.” 

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can do chocolate right now.” 

“Right, um… well, I have a sandwich?” 

“What kind of sandwich?” he asks. 

“One of those impossible BLT’s. But I can get you a proper sandwich, James. They have those sesame seed rolls in the vending machine.” 

James doesn’t understand why you’re being so nice to him. “I must look awful,” he murmurs, letting his aching, pulsing head drop onto the desk. He sniffs uselessly. Fuck, he hates work. Why can’t he go home?

“You never look awful,” you say. 

James turns his face to see you’ve lowered your own, resting your cheek in your hand, your knuckles grazing the table. 

“You’re being too nice to me. I’m dying.” 

“You’re the one who’s mean to me, James. I’m your unwilling victim.”

“As opposed to being my willing victim.” James hates being ill, his lips are dry and his throat feels sharp and he’s changed his mind, he does want the Freddo. “Please be nice to me again.” 

“You know what’s good for this? Nasal spray. That’ll fix you.” 

“You could fix me,” James says. You don’t answer. He presses his nose to the table. “My days are always good ones when you can't be bothered to pretend you don’t like me.” 

“Who says I’m pretending?” 

James whines. “That’s worse.” 

You tease a bit of his hair behind his ear. James is content to let you, content to never move again, balmed by the softness of your touch as you draw along the outline of his ear to his jaw. “Don’t press your glasses into your nose, you’ll start sneezing again,” you whisper. 

James refuses to move. “Stroke my hair,” he demands.

“No way.”

“You’re no fun.”

“But I’m having a much better day than you are.” 

He sulks. This is exactly why James hides your stuff and leaves you off of email chains you should probably be in. You’re horrible, awful, evil, with no sympathy for him and no friendliness, either. James was far better off when he was solely annoyed at you, and not whatever useless state of being this is where his mood depends on your willingness to make friends. If James could, he would—

“Are you okay?” you say, your voice as soft as your fingertip where it traces slowly through his curly hair. “Maybe you should go home and rest. I’m worried about you…” 

James might fall in love with you if you keep whispering sweet stuff like that. You hesitate at the nape of his neck before dragging your hand up through a tuft of curls. 

“If you don’t get better soon, your voice will go and I’ll have to talk to Lang and Co. on the phone again. You know I hate their finance team leader,” you finish. 

You sound so pretty that James almost misses your slight. Then decides he’ll allow it as long as you keep stroking his hair.  —

coworker james au

[k-hotchoisan]

OKAY OKAY OKAY BUT YUNHO GRIPPING YOUR HIPS (I’m a thicker girl so I got thick hips let me live) PRAISING YOUR CURVES BUT BUT BUT ALSO MUTTERING MINE AND JUST BEING SUPER POSSESIVE AND SLIGHTLY DEGRADING and maybe tells you to open your mouth so he can 🗣️💦 (only if you’re comfy with that) BECAUSE SOMEONE KEPT BOTHERING YOU AND OOGLING IVER YIU AND YIU DIDNT GET IT AND WERE SO INNOCENT AND LET IT HAPPENED…..I’m not thinking about that at all. 😫

Alright, enough of San for now, I know some of y’all hotteoks are hungry for some Yuyu so I’m serving it on silver platter for you guys 🥳😛🩷

As always, enjoy! 🩷

golden retriever

<Yunho x fem!reader>

Synopsis: “Do you get jealous?” You ask your partner one day. Well, you were about to find out.

Genre/warnings: dom & possessive!Yunho, dirty talk, slight degradation, oral (m & f receive), unprotected sex, cumming on face, cum eating, orgasms

Taglist:

@bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs

Golden Retriever.

That’s what everyone seems to associate Yunho as—loyal, considerate, funny and especially so loving. You felt it first hand, even before the both of you officially started dating—him constantly making sure you were comfortable in a room full of mostly men (his friends).

And when the both of you became official, he let you do whatever you wanted—mostly with his arms constantly around you, and you chalking it off as him being clingy. Well, he is known well to be very affectionate, not that you were complaining, and he doesn’t get upset easily, at least, that’s what it seemed.

He was definitely a giver, and he’d cross over the fucking oceans to make sure you were content.

People have different sides to them, that was a fact you knew clear as day. But such a soft person like Yunho, definitely had another side to him right?

“Do you get jealous?” You ask out of the blue. Yunho blinks at your question, wondering what to even reply to that.

You’ve asked all his friends, and they were all pretty adamant that he’s not a jealous lover. It still did not deter you from poking the bear.

And you definitely got your answer when his demeanour completely changes at the sight of another fuckin male trying to talk to you. It started off as ogling your body from a distance. At first Yunho brushes it off—he’s being held hostage by Mingi at the moment near the bar. He doesn’t shift when the male strikes up a conversation.

Yunho simply watches you attempt to entertain this sorry excuse of a person.

And he slams the glass whiskey glass (god knows how it didn’t break) when he notices the way the male is brushing his fingers on your shoulder, and Mingi only surprises a smirk as he watches your boyfriend intercept the failure of an interaction this male tried to initiate.

You jolt slightly at Yunho’s sudden touch on your waist but for some fuck ass reason, introduce the male to Yunho, who apparently was your friend. Yunho barely keeps his face poker, forcing smiles while the male who Yunho does not even bother remembering his name continues to yaps his fucking head off.

Yunho’s annoyed. And he’s never really felt annoyed often.

The fact that you’re completely oblivious to it all makes all the more astounding, especially when your friend had almost touched your arm up while he was laughing away, and Yunho’s arms wrapped around you in the guise of pulling you away, which you thought was nothing more than just a gesture of affection from Yunho.

Half way through his yapping, Yunho, at the peak of his irritation cuts him off, telling you that he has to rush back for an important show he’s catch up on. A blatant lie that you or your friend never caught on.

Oh, but you soon do, when you reach home with Yunho and he has you carried bridal style right into the fucking bedroom.

Yunho has you sprawled on the bed, his fingers wasting no time to tug your bottoms off—including your panties. He’s in a rush to strip you bare for him. Your breathing is jagged despite you trying to calm yourself. Yunho’s lips are burning against your skin as he trails his lips from your sternum till he reaches your hips.

“Pretty curves. So perfect for me”, he murmurs, pressing soft kisses against your skin after every word that leaves his lips. Gasps escape your lips every time you feel him suck against your skin, leaving pretty love bites to bloom in his wake.

“Yu-“, you try, but you’re immediately cut off when he plants another hickey on your hips, a soft groan replacing what you wanted to say.

“Do I get jealous?” He asks rhetorically, crawling over to face you from above. He scoffs as he sinks his fingers into your mouth, swallowing hard when you take his fingers, licking and sucking with a glazed out expression. “What do you think?”

You’re barely in the right mind to process his question, even when he pulls his finger out of your mouth, and especially when he trails his soaked fingers right to your pulsating cunt, rubbing your clit in slow circles.

You grasp at any remaining sanity that remains, your mind swimming in the depths pleasure, ready to just plunge in any moment.

“N-no”, you answer, completely entranced by the way Yunho is staring right into you, lust dripping in his gaze, before your body jolts in pure bliss when he stuffs you two fingers full, your arms immediately wrapping around his neck.

“Not wrong, babe”, he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes entirely.

“But I fucking hate it when people touch what belongs to me.”

There is a haze that’s clouding over your mind when he begins slowly pumping his long fingers in and out of you, the squelching sounds exposing how much of a dripping mess you are. You try to focus on his words, but barely anything is going through.

“And do you know what belongs to me?” He asks you again, his fingers now completely pulled out of you, leaving your cunt fluttering uselessly in the air. You feel like your heart is at your throat, threatening to jump out from the anticipation. You’ve never seen Yunho like this before, and it’s sending electricity through your spine, you feel goosebumps litter across your skin.

You choke on sob, your turn to swallow hard this time.

“Me?”

Yunho’s smile spreads across his face again, oddly calming, holding anything but hints of gentleness.

He’s not planning to let you go tonight.

He’s not planning to let you sleep tonight.

“Smart girl”, he hums, soothing his hands across your thighs, spreading them open, barely giving you any time to process before his cock pushes into your hole, fitting in all the way through despite his size. “But not smart enough to ask your little friend to fuck right off.”

Your mind blanks out, your breathing deepens in an attempt to accommodate his fucking cock that suddenly slid into you, another hard swallow as your thighs shake, and soft whimpers escape you. Yunho finds it all the more endearing watching you slowly fall apart right in front of him like this.

His good boy golden retriever personality is far from a facade, but there’s a sore spot in him that he does his best to ignore. And he does it well.

At least, up until now.

“And you’d best remember that, babe”, Yunho grunts, his thumb sinking into the corner of your lips, watching your eyes roll back as he snaps his hips against yours, making sure you feel the entirety of his cock filling you up to the brim, the sounds growing wetter by the second.

“-big”, you mutter, your body fighting against the pleasure, your eyelids barely holding up. His fingers press against the sides of your cheeks as he tilts your head to face him, your eyes watering slightly as you hear Yunho’s voice lulling you back.

“What was that?”

You don’t even hesitate, only feeling your thighs twitch whenever he slides his cock into you again, letting your words leave your mouth without even bothering to filter.

“You’re so fucking big. It’s so much. Fuck.”

Something in Yunho shifts, and he slows down in you, his cock decorated with glistening sheens of precum and cream when he pulls all the way out. You gasp at how empty you feel, about to whine at Yunho and your promptly shut up when his face is right at your soaked pussy, lapping you up from your hole all the way up to your clit.

Your hands immediately tug on his hair. Yunho’s gaze is eyeing you down—watch your reactions as he slowly brings you off the edge. His cock can’t take it—he’s rutting against the sheets and staining them with his thick precum, but he still continues to flick his tongue against your clit, making sure your arching your back in pure bliss.

“That’s it, remember who’s in between your legs, fucking you with his tongue”, his voice vibrates through your pussy.

“Yunho, fuck-, wait, I’m gonna cum-”, you gasp, your orgasm being dangled right before you, creeping into your body. Yunho doesn’t relent, for the first few seconds, and you’re sent off the edge, your toes curling when the sensation hits your pussy, and then your empty, pulsating pussy is filled up all the way by Yunho’s thick cock in seconds.

All while you were being engulfed by your orgasm.

That’s when you realise it—he’s gonna send you to the fucking stars—his cock in you while you were cumming amplifies the amount of stars you see splattered in your eyelids, and he doesn’t give you a chance to cry about being overstimulated, because his hand has your throat in a chokehold while he makes sure he fucks you while you ride your orgasm out.

He never once breaks eye contact with you throughout the process, enjoying the feeling of your cunt just clamping down onto him while he fucks you full. Fuckin hell.

“That’s a good girl. See, it isn’t so hard to be well-behaved, isn’t it?” Yunho hums, his voice still low and husky, biting back the pleasure he’s feeling. You don’t answer—only soft hiccups as your eyes continue to water, but the sounds of your wet, sopping pussy does.

Yunho’s lips engulfs yours, prying your parted lips to open further, and you taste yourself in him, moans muffled when he pins your wrists above you, snapping his hips against yours with raw desire.

“You’re gonna behave and take this load”, he whispers when his lips leave yours, wet with spit. You nod frantically, already surrendering yourself to him. He pulls out of you with a wet sound following, before his cock is facing you, letting you watch him fuck his hand.

A string of curses tied with your name leaves Yunho’s lips when he ruts before jerking slightly, then spurts of white decorate your pretty face, and you stare up at him, cum dripping down your chin, as your tongue sticks out. Yunho only takes it as an invitation to collide his lips against yours, satisfied that he’s tasting himself on you.

“Fuck. Can’t get enough. Need more”, he hisses before his lips are your neck again, littering his marks all over your sensitive skin as he pushes you down back onto the mattress to spread your legs open, giving your clit light taps as his half hard cock slides right back into your abused cunt, and you return the favour with marks down his back.

“Yu-ah! It’s too much”, you pant, your tears fully streaking down your temples when you feel him completely growing fully hard in you.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll definitely show you what’s too much.”

[ellecdc]

Elle have you ever felt the urge to write more swim lessons with the marauders? I’m not usually much of a “part 2??” person but when I read that one I thought it was begging for a continuation. No pressure though!! Only if you feel like it, thanks for writing the first one at all :)

wellllllllll, since you asked so nicely (no but I'd literally do anything for you, just name the price - also, this feels like a full circle moment since the first part was absolutely not heavily influence by my love for your EMT!marauders...........)

swim instructor!marauders x fem!reader who learns that praise kinks are a transferrable skill

find part one here!

CW: joking about drowning each other, nerves surrounding learning how to swim, inappropriate jokes because.....well.....you know.

You had left last week's swim lesson (which you had dubbed your latest near death experience) quite certain you would rather just enjoy the white-sand beaches of the Maldives by the waterline.

That is until perhaps the third time someone joked about bringing you a set of water wings, and the second time someone pointed out the horrid tan lines those would leave on your skin. 

So here you were, sitting on a bench in the posh dressing room of the posh country club that your friend’s fiance’s posh family owned as you waited for the rest of the patron’s to clear out of the pool for your private swim lessons.

Oh God, what if you were expected to compensate them for this too?! 

You were so consumed in your spiralling - wondering if you could manage to take out a line of credit simply to attend your best friend's wedding - when you heard your name being called into the change room. 

“You in there?” You could hear Remus call.

“Yup!” You called back; horrified when your voice cracked. “I’m coming.” You added after clearing your throat.

You reluctantly grabbed your towel and hugged it to your chest as you headed towards the pool.

“There she is!” Sirius called as he spotted you. “Our favourite swimmer!”

“I’ve not actually done any swimming yet.” You corrected quietly. Not quietly enough, unfortunately, as the acoustics in this room seemed to carry your words to the black haired swimmer and his bespectacled counterpart across the entire pool.

“You won’t be able to say that for much longer!” James countered.

Remus apparently noticed the panic look form on your face as he let out a low chuckle. “We’re staying in the shallow end today, love. There’s no need to worry.” 

You wanted to be annoyed with him at his incessant use of pet names and endearments, but any ire that may have bubbled in your chest simply vanished when he flashed you a soft, crooked smile. 

You watched then as James and Sirius launched themselves into the pool without a second thought whilst Remus gently lowered himself into it from the edge. 

You weren’t proud that you had to force yourself to look away from the muscles in his shoulders as they flexed under his weight. 

“How tall are you?” Sirius asked then, causing James to gasp dramatically.

“You’re not supposed to ask a lady that, Pads.” He scolded. 

“No.” Sirius countered slowly. “You’re not supposed to ask them how much they weigh.” 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to ask them anything to do with numbers; weight, age, height.” James continued.

“Age!? What can you ask them?” Sirius beseeched.

“Would you sods shut up?” Remus grumbled. 

“Right.” Sirius said then, apparently remembering himself. “I only ask because you should be able to touch the bottom here; why don’t you try getting in like Moony did?”

You felt your brows furrow as you looked at Sirius in bemusement. “Moony?”

“That’s me.” Remus clarified as he let out a sigh of exasperation; you couldn’t help but notice the shy blush that took over his face and threatened to spread to his chest at the moniker, however. “He’s Pads, and James is Prongs. Sometimes. Right now, they’re sod 1 and sod 2.”

His insult was met with one indignant ‘oi!’ and a retaliatory splash. “But what Sirius was trying to say was that it would be good practice getting in and out without a gradient; you said the wedding was in the Maldives?”

You nodded in response. 

“You may at times only have the edge of a dock or perhaps a small staircase to get into the water; doing this in the shallow end will help train your body not to go into fight or flight mode each time.”

And while that all sounded well and good, you couldn’t help but look at the water warily. 

“Come on.” Sirius encouraged you as he situated himself below you and patted the edge of the pool. “Have a seat, doll.”

You bit back a grumble and did as you were told, sitting on the edge of the pool where Sirius stood between your legs and set his hands on either side of you. “Then you just slide in, and I’ll be here to catch you; got it?” 

“Is there gonna be a tattooed bloke in the Maldives to catch me too?” You grumbled to yourself, horrified when Sirius’ bark of laughter alerted you to the fact that you had said that out loud.

“Why, you looking for a date, doll?”

You have got to stop blurting out every thought that enters your mind, especially around these men.

Instead of dealing with your embarrassment, you figured you may as well just try drowning.

Unfortunately for you, the water was shallow and you were tall enough to touch the bottom and Sirius had caught you, so it looked as though you would just have to deal with your embarrassment like a mature adult.

But fuck that.

So instead, you splashed him. 

“Oh she’s feisty today.” James commented as Sirius squawked something or other about his hair.

Humour danced behind Remus’ whiskey eyes as he considered you. “Thank you for splashing him so I wouldn’t have to.”

“We should invest in some of those spray bottles for when he’s being a pest.” James called over with a smirk.

Whatever qualms Sirius may have had about his hair seemed to dissipate at the prospect of dunking his mate as he lunged for James and forced them both under the water.

You were mortified to realise you had leaned into Remus’ side to avoid getting tangled up in whatever underwater brawl was taking place; only realising your proximity to the tall swim instructor when he placed a placating hand on your back. 

“This is actually what we’re going to be practising today.” He explained as his two counterparts emerged from the water with gasping breaths.

“Drowning each other?” 

“Holding our breath.” Remus corrected you with a smirk. “The hope is that you will feel more comfortable in practising if you’re not so worried about what will happen when you’re underwater.”

“We’re gonna have a cheeky seat at the bottom of the pool!” James explained.

You looked to Remus with what you were sure was a ‘you’re kidding me, yeah?’ face who simply smiled at you encouragingly. 

“I thought the purpose of swim lessons was to not end up at the bottom of a pool.” You deadpanned. 

“The purpose of swim lessons is to avoid ending up at the bottom of a pool, and knowing how to get back up to the surface when you do.” Sirius offered.

“We’ll just lower ourselves to our knees and-”

“My favourite position.” Sirius interrupted Remus’ instructions.

“James?” Remus deadpanned.

“On it.” James answered quickly as he put Sirius in a headlock and dunked them under the water again. 

“As I was saying,” Remus continued without the distraction of the other two, “we’ll lower ourselves to our knees, try to count to 10, and then we’ll come back up.”

The other two instructors reemerged at the end of Remus’ sentence and you let out a heavy breath. “I don’t think I can do this.” You admitted quietly. 

Any humour and levity seeped from the three men as they circled you protectively.

“No, hey, of course you can!” James offered, trying to imbue some of his eagerness and enthusiasm onto you as he swiped water away from his eyes. 

“Why would she trust you, James? You look like nothing but trouble.” Sirius said haughtily as he tried to re-restrain his hair into an elastic. 

You were expecting James to squawk in offence, but his face lit up brilliantly as if Sirius had just solved world hunger.

“That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Remus asked warily.

“She doesn’t trust us!” James clarified, which clarified nothing for you at all. 

“What! I- no, that’s not true. I…I do trust you, I just-”

“No, no. Not like that angel.” James offered. “I’m sure you trust us enough as employees here, but not necessarily enough to willingly put yourself at risk, right?”

You tried to think of an argument.

You couldn’t. 

“Okay, let’s see…oh!” James started as he lowered himself into the water enough that it lapped against his chin. “I was completely broken when my marriage ended, and these two were the only ones who could convince me I wasn’t a complete failure.” He offered casually as if he hadn’t just dropped a significant amount of lore on a near stranger. 

“I ran away from home at 16 and James’ family took me in, no questions asked, and have treated me as their own ever since.” Sirius added quickly. 

Remus let out a sigh as he looked to the other two in faux exasperation. “And I was a poor scholarship kid attending an elite and posh prep school, and these two did everything they could to make sure no one made me feel insecure about it.” 

“All this to say, angel; I’d trust these two with my life, and I think you should too.” James finished. 

You let out a steadying breath and nodded your head. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Sirius smiled. 

“Yeah, yes; I can do this.” You decided, mostly speaking to yourself.

“Hell yeah, you can!” James cheered as he splashed the water, Remus muttering something about him being a giant toddler. 

“So, you can plug your nose if you’d like; but try to take a deep breath in, and then whilst you’re under water try letting that air out slowly, okay?” Remus instructed then. You felt more than a little discombobulated with all of his attention focused on you.

Sirius demonstrated and you mimicked his actions which earned you a dramatic round of applause.

“Brilliant! You’re gonna rock this.” James assured you quickly.

“‘Course she is.” Sirius scoffed as if James had said something rather outlandish. “She’s been brilliant at everything so far.”

You felt your cheeks heat up near painfully and looked down to the water in hopes that no one noticed you fluster.

Unfortunately for you, it seemed Remus was more observant than you gave him credit for. “You going to be brilliant for us again today, love?” 

You felt like it was your turn to scoff. “‘Course I am.” your inner voice echoed Sirius. 

“‘Course she is.” James echoed for you; a knowing smirk gracing his lips.

“Ready?” Sirius started as he lowered himself to his shoulders.

You nodded and he started to count down. 

At one, you sucked in a deep breath and plugged your nose before plunging yourself into the pool.

You were too buoyant; your body trying to return to the surface immediately after submerging yourself which left you feeling rather panicky, but you saw Sirius blow out dramatic bubbles and decided to do the same, feeling your body slowly sink to allow you to settle onto your knees. 

James beamed a smile at you as Remus looked at a stopwatch counting down your seconds.

You realised it wasn’t so bad down here - letting the air out of your lungs left you not feeling as if your body was going to burst from the pressure, and it was beautifully quiet. It reminded you how peaceful you found floating to be just the week before.

You felt a gentle tap on your wrist, noticing Remus pointing upwards.

You stood and suddenly, you were horribly aware of how loud an empty pool could be; the sound of water filtering, the large fans in charge of the humidity levels, and the echoing of the great cavernous space left you feeling slightly homesick for the bottom of the pool.

“That was brilliant!” James cheered as he pulled you roughly into his side. 

“You say that as if you’re surprised, Prongs.” Sirius teased gently. 

“Of course I’m not surprised, she’s our brilliant student.”

And instead of an embarrassed flush of your cheeks, you felt a simmering pride settle within your chest.

It appeared that having a praise kink was, indeed, a transferable skill.

[andrsnsgirl]

if you had known that opening a car washing service to raise money for your sophomore trip would have led to you to be bent down on the hood of a car with a pink, squiring dildo in your pussy, you would have done it way earlier. you must admit the idea was quite the eureka moment. it's summer and it hasn't rained for days, all sports have stopped for the summer and being back in town whilst your parents worked all day was feeling a little depressing which was leading to the cars in the town being covered by a thin layer of dust and to you being constantly hot and in need of a cold shower. it wasnt that hard to put the two things together.

you distributed flyers around, hung them up in diner’s, cafe’s and along the street, choose a large empty spot near the road and that was it. d-day was hot and dry, and you only smiled more staring at your pretty outfit in the mirror. low cut jeans shorts that barely covered your ass and your pink coral reef bikini set, one you knew was going to become transparent with the first lick of water, transparent enough to give your clients the show of your pierced nipples. after all, you knew a good show was gonna bring more money, and you didn't intend to waste that opportunity.

with a touch of gloss on your lips and throwing your hair in an up-do, you were ready to go. you had not been wrong. your clients, mostly men somehow, had enjoyed the show, whistling at you while you washed their windows, wet shirt clinging to your chest and foam all over your neck and legs. you had played along, giggling and swaying your hips while humming to the song playing on the radio, smiling widely at the generous tips. and then she had came along. abby, the new boxer trainer down at the gym. you had seen her many times there, she and dina staring at you from the glass window with the excuse of watching dina’s girlfriend, ellie training. well, dina was staring at her girlfriend. but you? you couldn't take your eyes off abby, from her arms popping with veins, tattoos littered in all the right places and sweaty long hair falling in her face as she tucked one side behind her ear.

you got aroused just by staring at her that day, and remembers a long cold shower afterwards, using your favourite clear dildo to fuck yourself open, coming, chanting abby’s name. and now she was here, with a black tank top showing off her muscled shoulders and gym shorts that gave you the perfect view of the thighs you wanted to ride with abby’s hands wrapped around your neck. you see the last car of the day pull up and make sure to refill your tub of now extremely soapy water and put on your best smile despite the main attraction being your body.

abby lowers down her tinted window, smiling at you, "hey, [redacted] right?" you simply nod your head, biting your lips, "yep, that's me" abby just nods, slowly staring you up and down, you feeling proud when you see her stare fixing on the low edge of your shorts. abby coughs and gives you her money, "uhm, thank you for this, i hope it's enough?" you just hums and nods, turning around and going to dunk the buckets in the soapy water and bring them over to her car. you’re excited, adrenaline running in your veins. you’re gonna give abby the best show ever made.

abby is flustered, her ears get all red and hot. the strap in her shorts becomes increasingly uncomfortable to be wearing as she sits behind her car wheel and watches you wash her car. but really she can’t be blamed. she’s pretty sure you are doing it on purpose to rile her up because in no way, shape or form do you need to extend like that to clean the hood, your shorts rising up until all ass is sticking out and you pause the wash before completely undressing yourself out of the shorts, leaving you in just your bikini set. she almost honked her horn because she didn’t think you were wearing any sort of underwear. water falls on your lips trailing to the chest and she curses when she see’s the outline of your nipple piercings poking through the top. you sigh and look at the progress you’ve made, you’ve been working all day without a break and was in desperate need of one.

abby thinks you must be enjoying this game when she sees you prance up to her window with a tilted head. “hey do you mind if i have a 5 minute break”, you whine “it’s hot and i’ve been working all day” abby bites her tongue to not curse, shifting uncomfortably in her seat pushing her strap down, trying to hide it, “uh s..sure.” you watch the movements of her hands and uncomfortableness and take note of her crimson red ears. you giggle, biting your lip once again “cute” you mumble.

the second your break is up you’re right back washing the rest of her car. skin tanned so perfect and on display. your dermals perfectly gleaming in the sun in front of abby, so ready to be marked kissed and ruined. abby inhales and runs her fingers through her hair turning her ac on blast to help cool herself. all she wants to do is get out her car and fuck you open until you go limp, seeing your juices around her strap and coming all over that ass she’s beginning to love. you’re staring at her, all flushed, wet and pretty and abby has her face in both her hands as she groans out loud at the sight. she breaks out of it when you tap her back window. “there is an area that i can’t seem to reach, care to help me?” and abby knows, she knows you’re playing a game and God she wishes this game would end exactly how she wants it to, which means you bent on the front of the fucking hood, moaning loud enough for every bystander to turn their heads.

abby follows you outside, and you just smile at her before bending yourself on the hood, your arms stretching in front of you, trying to reach a point near the windscreen. abby inhales sharply, hands itching to trace the skin of your back and hips, to pull down that stupid string that dangles on the sides of your bottoms and spread your legs right there and then. you wiggle below her, "can you reach it?"

abby breathes slowly, clearing her throat before lowering down, covering your body with her own and bringing the sponge in your hand where she wants it. she inhales when her chest comes in contact with your wet back, the girl beneath her letting down a soft sigh at the weight above her. "h-here you g-"

abby’s words are cut off by you bucking up under her, your ass pushing back against abby's strap, her end digging in to her clit. a whiny curse comes out of her mouth, your eyes fluttering shut getting a feel of the silicone shape. abby stands still, afraid that if she moves, or if you do it again, she wont be able to contain herself. that's exactly what you want apparently.

the smaller girl turns her head on the side, staring right into abby before you buck up again. you moan at the feeling, eyes wide still staring at abby. "i know you want to fuck me" you mumble, ass moving is small circles on abby's strap, adding more pressure very time, "good thing i haven't stopped thinking about your cock splitting me in half in days.”

abby curses before crashing your lips together, grabbing at your hips to maintain balance. abby unties the string of a bikini you wore and pulls them down your legs. when she gets up, is to the view of a pretty naked girl spread on the hood of her car, legs wide open and fingers playing with her folds and head back. "please a..abby", you whine, foam and water falling from your hair, thighs and back. abby curses, quickly undoing her drawstring and dropping her shorts on the wet ground. she wraps her hand around her own cock, slapping your pussy with "fuck look at you" she says, her finger already circling your clit, "spread out like this on my car, opening yourself up for me. you want my cock that bad?"

you whine, bucking up when abby finally pushes her fingers past the ring of muscle, stretching you out, "y-yes " you mumble, "been thinking about you ever since i saw you in the g-gym window, wanted your cock right there and then" abby hums, fingering you slowly. you are loud, whining and moaning and pushing back against her fingers, asking her to fuck you faster, deeper. "your cock a-abs, your cock" you sight, spreading your legs even wider. abby kneads her fingers in your pussy, drinking in the way you gape and suck her fingers in. she can only imagine how tight we will be around her cock.

and the reality is better than imagination in this case, because the moment you push in, abby knows you won't last long. you let out a silent moans, your walls incredibly tight around abby's cock. both of them are breathing loud, adjusting to the new wonderful feeling. abby trying to grip your waist, the skin slipper from the soap and water. after a minute, you look at her over your shoulder, wet strands of hair sticking to your forehead and neck. you look absolutely breathtaking, tears at the edge of your eyes and lips puffed and red, "move abby please", you plead, "just fuck me p-please" and abby is a weak woman.

she pulls out almost completely, before thrusting right back in, you letting out a loud moan, yours head falling down on the hood with a loud thump, "y.yeah like that". abby keeps thrusting in and out, your body moving along the hood, moans and groans and sighs filling the empty space. she knows she’s fucking you hard, and yet you keep demanding more, faster, harder.

so abby can only grab your thighs and piston with immense strength. you’re falling apart with every thrust, too gone to sound coherent anymore. "fuck you're so fucking tight.. God look at you" abby groans, clit twitching when you push back to fuck on her cock, your hips meeting midway, "taking it so well, you were born to take cock weren't you?"

and you can only nod and whine, mumbling about how good she feels, how full you are. it's when you get up on your elbows, fucking yourself back on abby's cock with the small energy you mustered up, head laid back and the muscles of her back tensing that abby tops over the edge, barely able to pull out before shooting the faux cum all over your back with a loud moan. you whine at the loss, body shaking by being so /close/ and yet not able to come yet. you wiggle on the hood, "please abs i wanna come"

and abby pushes herself to her knees the next second, pulling your cheeks apart and sucking at your swollen clit, her tongue lazily thrusting up and down your slit. with the warm wet feeling of her tongue, you double over, body spasming with the force of your orgasm, spurring white all over abby’s face and dripping on to the hood of the car. it takes a couple of minutes for both to calm down, a minute in which they kiss slowly, abby massaging the skin of your back.

you chuckle when she gets up, and sees the mess on both herself and the car. you turn towards abby, who's staring at the ground, a blush coloring her flustered face and ears seem to have an even deeper red. you just giggle and string your bikini bottom back on going to your bag to out back on your shirt and shorts, before walking towards her and ruffling her hair, "guess i owe you another service since the car is even dirtier than before dont you think?" abby laughs and nods, you wrapping your arms around her neck.

[anantaru]

Hello Yoru!!<3 I wanted to ask you about your opinion about which Genshin men could eat the reader out the best 👀

~ dresvi.🚀 (Too shy to ask this off anon kdbdskkana)

including. neuvillette, alhaitham

cw. oral (fem! receiving), fem! reader

— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱

neuvillette was far too close to make this easy for you, reaching right in between your folds so he could nudge and play with the sensitive bolts of your pussy, leaning in to lick roughly at a searing spot that made you wince out in ecstasy, trembling underneath him.

your breathes and moans are much heavier than before, signalizing to neuvillette that he's doing everything right, however, the man believes that he had to do more, add something, before leaving a glimmering tumble of spit on your pussy as he spits on your cunt, a shimmering thread connecting you both from his lips to your folds.

you were moving together like water, your bodies complimenting each other as he gasps and grunts when trapping a bundle of flesh in between his lips before hollowing his cheeks, driving his whole body into making you cum as hard as possible and somehow managing to get better each time, his fingers clutching around your thighs at once so you'd never close them for him.

the friction of his wet muscle was near unbearable but then neuvillette flicks his tongue and digs it past your folds, your hands instantly taking a hold of his hair and messily grinding your cunt all over his lower face.

fuck, oh fuck, you moan and lose control of your body, twitch underneath his bigger one— too far gone to worry about any pathetic sounds keening from the back of your throat.

like a rasping, bottomless gasp, he answers your anticipation to do it again, neuvillette wants to feel you become so addictive to him until you simply cannot go a day without him closed off in between your legs, like neuvillette was damn near dying as he lays into you harder— tongue stroking faster, attacking your gaping hole again and again and again with his mouth, hoping that your smooth skin burned because it feels so good as you spasm against his face with a rough cry of his name, your hand clutching at his hair hard enough to damage the strands.

— ꒰ ALHAITHAM ꒱

by alhaitham's sixth movement, you notice how cold and ruthless it feels whenever he gets down on you, how rough and almost detached he shoves his head in between your thighs and how unmerciful— cruel, in order to have you experience something no one else was able to inflict on you.

it's like he knew your body better than you did, and was aware what spots he had to target to make you cum on his face.

and oh, quite certainly did he know that you're a total mess by now, his hands sweeping across your chest as they're preoccupied by your tits being sensitive underneath his palms.

you moan his name when he flicks his tongue over the hidden pearl and suckles on the flesh as his precise licks shoot a vibration buzzing on your cunt, the faintest trace of his wet muscle touching the edge of your body until you're like putty because of him.

now, you shove yourself up with one arm in order to get a better view on the mess happening in between your legs— tugging on his disheveled hair to roughly press him in your cunt, your ministration strong enough to make the scribe shamelessly groan into your pussy, the underlying burn of your fingers scratching at his scalp making him moan once more.

alhaitham's way of pleasuring you was so indifferent that you're wondering if he's the same boyfriend who'd read to you if you're having trouble sleeping or engages in deep talks in order to understand you better. alas currently, alhaitham has no need for this, because with his fat and heavy cock leaking through the fabric of his pants, he aches to be inside of you.

his hips stuttering into the mattress as he craves for more, more of your scent and more of your arousal slicking up his cheeks and chin— he looks beyond ruined and dirty, capturing your taunting pussy in a filthy-wet kiss as you arch your body off the bed and ride his face, bucking hard beneath two hands keeping you still, inviting anything and everything he did to you with an excited smirk on your mouth.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[pierregazly]

are you warm enough? ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x reader

warnings: reader has the flu, sad!reader over being sick [945 words]

request: Could I ask for a 💗 with Oscar and "Are you warm enough?" prompt?

note: oscar is def the type to take care of a sick partner?? i dont make the rules but it's true! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

It was inevitable it was going to hit you. It had struck through your entire workplace, through all your study groups. One by one, person by person, they were taken down. By a measly thing like the flu. You knew it was going to take you out, and you were going to hate every second of it.

Selfishly, you were hoping it would strike you the week Oscar was gone, not wanting to waste any of the short time that you did have with him by being confined to bed with a sickness that wouldn’t go away. Unluckily, just hours before his plane was scheduled to touchdown in Melbourne, you felt the tickle begin to climb in the back of your throat.

By the time Oscar’s bags were tossed through the front door of your apartment, you were curled up on the couch, a heated blanket over you while a half-empty cup of tea remained on the coffee table in front of you. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed, your stomach was aching. You couldn’t keep any food down, and it felt like the apartment had hit negative temperatures in the few hours between waking up with a scratchy throat, and Oscar coming through the door.

“Honey, I’m home,” he singsonged, walking around the corner and stopping dead in his tracks when he observed your state.

You had told him about all the people who were getting sick at work, at school, about how you had been diligent about making sure you were washing your hands and keeping away from them. How you had told him how you didn’t want to ruin the little time the two of you were finally going to be able to spend together, so you were being extra careful.

Oscar felt the sympathy wash over him as he observed you peak out from underneath the blanket, a look of sadness etched around your face.

“Osc… you shouldn’t come close to me. I don’t want to get you sick, too,” you said.

Ignoring your words, Oscar moved closer to the couch before sitting down beside your sock-covered feet. He gently maneuvered them so they were placed over your lap, rubbing soothing circles on your now-exposed ankle.

“I’ll suffer if I have to. Can’t make you take care of yourself when you look like you might freeze to death if I even move this blanket.”

Just from the blanket simply touching his leg, he could feel the heat emitting off of it, the number ‘6’ displayed on the power screen, indicating it was at the highest level the blanket could reach. 

“Do you want me to make you another tea? Maybe go pick up some soup? I can give my mum a call, see if she can make any and drop it off? Does that sound good?”

Your only response was a nod of your head at every question he threw at you, you weren’t one to ask for help when you were sick, always able to simply take care of yourself. But the idea of getting off the couch, moving from the warmth of the blanket to go and make yourself a tea, or dig through the cupboards to find a can of soup… it just didn’t sound worth it, at all.

“I don’t want to bug your mum, if you pass me my phone I’ll just order some soup here. I can get you something too, real food. But you may not want to eat near me, I haven’t really been able to keep anything down either,” the sniffles after every few words had Oscar grimacing.

“Oh hush, mum always has leftover soup. Someone’s always sick around there, she’d be more than happy to drop it off. Let me go make you a cup of tea, and I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t take him long to tinker around the kitchen, throwing your favourite teabag into the mug and heating up the kettle; texting his mum in the process to inquire about any recent soups she may have made. Unsurprisingly, dad had been sick just days before, excess of his favourite soup in a Tupperware container in the freezer. Nicole had promised to get it thawed up and dropped off before sunset, a message of ‘get well soon, honey’ likely to be written in black ink on the lid.

Holding the warm cup of tea in front of your face, he gestured for you to sit up, a groan emitting from your body as you did so. Gently placing the cup into your hands, he sat down next to you, a small frown marring his face.

“Are you warm enough, baby? I can go pull down a few more blankets from the cupboards? Or turn the heating up?”

Shaking your head, you placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of you, before snuggling up into his side. 

“Can you just hold me? You’re always so warm, and I just want to be snuggled up with you, right now,” you said.

The arm that was pressed between your two bodies moved out of the grasp, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders before pulling you in closer to his body. 

“I’ll hold you whenever you want me to, even if you’re going to have to be the one to explain to the team why I have the flu next week.”

The only response you gave him was a shrug of your shoulders. You had already grappled with the fact you were probably going to get him sick, if you had to explain to the team why one of their prized driver’s was now sick… then so be it.

y'all... i didnt realize how popular oscar was until this celebration i have SO many requests for him lol. i hope everyone loves this, and as always, thank you for celebrating with me!!

[fastandcarlos]

Ray Of Sunshine : ̗̀➛ Logan Sargeant

summary: even on the darkest of days you're always there to make logan smile again somehow

You knew the moment the door slammed how your evening was going to unfold.

Your eyes didn’t even need to look up as you heard familiar mumblings under someone’s breath, heavy footsteps trudging through the driver’s room, sighs released every so often. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as Logan entered, his dejected state was something that you had to come to expect supporting him recently, nothing seemed to fall his way and his was becoming a harsher critic of himself with every week that passed. You could only take so much, hating the way the races seemed to beat any positivity out of him.

“I give up,” he despairingly grumbled.

It was the same each week, you sat in your own bubble and gave Logan a moment to let go of his frustrations. Everything he touched was slammed back down, every little problem was blown way out of proportion, and the Williams hoodie that he wore was taken off as quickly as possible. To say that luck wasn’t on Logan’s side was an understatement, you could see for yourself that every little thing that could go wrong was going wrong for him right now. Once his usual steps were complete, you stood up and placed your hand gently against Logan’s shoulder, feeling his body tense up as soon as he felt your touch on him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

There was a pause between you before Logan reacted, turning his head to glance back at you. There was no emotion on his face, his energy was empty, not even you seemed to be able to bring any enthusiasm back into Logan again.

After a few moments he simply smiled back at you before stepping away, leaving you stood in confusion in the middle of the room. You were used to Logan taking a little while to respond to you after a disappointing race, but even this was extreme by his standards. Most of the time you at least saw a hint of a smile on his face, but Logan had nothing left. His eyes were nowhere near as bright as they usually were, his confident stance had disappeared, replaced by a man who looked as if he couldn’t take the constant bottom place finishes any longer.

“It’s going to get better,” you tried to tell him, keeping your eyes firmly on Logan. “It’s not always going to be this way.”

“I can’t see any way out right now,” he admitted, letting go of yet another sigh. Your heart sunk as you listened to Logan, watching him scuff his feet along the floor before taking a seat, head in his hands.

“You’re a talented driver Logan, your time is going to come soon enough.”

“Yeah? When?!” The sudden rise in Logan’s voice made your body freeze, not expecting to be struck by such a harsh tone. “Every week I get humiliated by my team, my car, they’ve made it so clear they don’t want me anymore, so what’s the point of doing this anymore?”

You were left speechless by Logan’s sudden outburst, running your hands over the top of your head. Part of you wanted to run, but you knew deep down Logan couldn’t stand being left alone with his own thoughts after the race that he’d had. Despite how hard you tried to get him to see the positives, he just couldn’t do it, despite how encouraging you always tried to be with him. You tried your best to get Logan’s feelings, to sympathise with him but you had never been in that car, those dreaded team meetings, never had to hear the remarks that so many experts made about him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that.”

A faint whisper came from across the room, capturing your attention. Logan’s soft eyes looked across at you, his hand stretching out, offering for you to take a hold of it. Instantly you could hear how genuine Logan was in his voice, if there was one person who didn’t deserve to have all of this taken out on them, it was definitely you.

“You might not think it, but I’m disappointed too that this is how things are going right now,” you spoke, taking a hold of Logan’s hand.

I would do anything to make this better for you, to give you all of the things that you deserve and make sure you’re acknowledged for the amazing human being that you are.”

“I don’t need anything else when I’m with you.”

His reply captured you, it left you stunned as your wide eyes looked across at him. The smallest of smiles appeared on Logan’s face as he realised how shy you had suddenly become, feeling your heart race as you stumbled over your words, not quite sure what to say.

“Everything else might suck, but that doesn’t matter when I know that I’ve got you,” Logan whispered, pulling you close to him.

“You’re always going to have me, I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You chuckled, nudging gently against Logan’s side. You intertwined your hand in tighter with his, giving it a slight squeeze.

“I don’t think I’d carry on doing this week in week out if it wasn’t for your support,” Logan noted, his sincere eyes sticking on you. Your head shook as you met his gaze once again, you had every confidence that Logan would achieve his dreams, even when he could only doubt himself.

“I’m sorry if I ever make you feel like I don’t appreciate you,” Logan added, “because I really do. It must be frustrating for you too watching me come last every week, I’m sure you’d probably love to be able to see me up on the podium like all of your friends get to do.”

“All of their boyfriends don’t compare to you though,” you grinned, chuckling to yourself.

“Well, I am the most handsome driver in F1,” Logan teased, throwing his free arm across your shoulders, “of course none of those guys compare.”

Your eyes rolled as the familiar character that you had come to know and love started to appear before you again, the deprecating Logan had gone, and the charming one returned.

“I don’t care where you start, finish, or what happens in between, I’m always going to be with you, we’re a team,” you reminded him, leaning your head down so that it rested against Logan’s broad shoulder.

In Logan’s room was where the two of you stayed for most of the evening, shutting yourselves out from the chaos of the paddock. There was noise all around you, but none of that mattered, you had each other, and that was all that counted, especially to Logan anyway. Beyond those four walls he didn’t care what anyone else had to say about him, because he had you, his bright sunshine, even on those cloudiest of days.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[vacayisland]

LAST BUT NOT LEAST

Floyd x Motherly! Reader

Species and gender your choice- I’m just seeing reader is sweet, calm, mature. Calls everyone baby- always helpful. Maybe Floyd and reader are already dating? And reader calls Floyd the most embarrassing nicknames(sugarplum), number one fan-maybe some mortica vibes? Idk! You have fun with this one

@!; oh, Oh... Floyd / Motherly! Reader

"Summary"! Floyd loves you for many reasons, too many to count on his fingers or toes; too many to remember in one sitting when he's asked that simply question 'what do you love above them?'; too many to make a list of that won't expand pages and pages. Yet, he knows what he loves the most about you; you complete him in the best ways possible. "Tags"! say it with me... fluff, fluff, FLUFF!!, not proof read either :(

@!; Floyd knew you before he got captured by Veneer and Velvet. He knew you from his travels around the world in an attempt to find himself after the group broke up. He actually found you in Lonesome Flats, despite not being a country troll (or maybe you were), leaning against the window inside a western building. You had been talking to Delta with such a bright smile, Floyd couldn't help but slow down his walk to stare at it; noticing to dimples on your cheeks, the way your eyes lit up as you spoke, and the passion in your voice. It was intoxicating. It drew him in. So hesitantly, he kept his distance but kept near your little building. He didn't mean to ease drop, yet he overheard your conversation: "So, anyone catch ya' eye yet, sweetheart?" Delta's country twang was more noticeable every time she decided to tease you about this subject. You knew she only wanted to see a reaction out of you. Though you couldn't help but smile at her, wafting off the scent of a plum pie you had just finished. "No, not yet, Ma'am." Your voice was soft, a subtle hum to it that Floyd had caught. It made him choke up a bit, though he tried not to focus on that feeling. "Aw, come on, pickin's ain't that slim." Delta chuckled as she crossed her arms, grinning back at you. "And I know many fine Trolls who wouldn't waste takin' you out for dinner... and maybe some wilder ones who would take ya to a rodeo show."

And she winked, causing you to shake your head as you maintained your smile and composure. Despite being teased, Floyd could only describe you as calm and relaxed. Your shoulders weren't stiffened and you didn't crinkle your nose at anything Delta said; it was like her words didn't effect you, yet you were listening intently and responding to her accordingly. "Oh, yes Ma'am. I know that." As you softly laughed at Delta's attempted, you tested the pie's temperature and deemed it cool enough to cut. You took your knife and began to slice the pie into 12 even pieces. "Then let me set ya' up with someone!- Thank you, darlin'." You handed Delta a slice of pie as she spoke, knowing plum was her favorite. Quickly, you searched for a fork and then handed that to her too. She continued, "A pretty gal such as yourself shouldn't have to be kept waitin', though you do deserve your perfect someone." Oh, so you were a baker? Floyd noted that to himself, noticing that the pie that Delta was munching on as you spoke seemed to have some personal touches. Such as some honey baked into the plums, the crust being a little more golden than pies in the Pop Troll village, as well as some sugar that had crystalized at the top. It looked delicious... and it made his stomach growl. Floyd didn't think his stomach actually growled, he didn't catch it. Thus he was both startled and confused when you turned your attention over to him, your soft eyes matching the soft nature you carried yourself. "Are ya' hungry?" Floyd covered his stomach with his arm, a bit self conscious as you called him out. But he didn't feel called out; in an odd way he felt seen. Delta soon turned her attention over to Floyd while taking a bite of the pie. She held up the plate with a grin, "Come on, don't be shy, bumpkin'! Our Miss (Y/N) is the best baker in town and you won't find talent like this; She's like a needle in a hay stack, she is." "Oh, um.. okay." Floyd walked over to the window, noticing how your grin grew slightly larger and your eyes seemed to catch this sparkle in them. You grabbed him a plate, a slice of pie, and a fork almost instantly and placed it on your window ceil for him. "Here ya' go!" Service with a smile. Yet Floyd patted his pockets, and even dug around in them, for something to give you in exchange for the generous slice of pie. He fell short, "Oh- um, I don't have anything-" "Oh don't worry about payment, sugarplum!" Your words caught Floyd off guard, his round eyes shot up to meet yours. "Baking is just a hobby, I don't ask for anything in return; well, other than friends with full bellies and big grins. Seeing people enjoying my baking is enough payment for me." Floyd had kind of believed in love at first sight; but he didn't realize it actually could happen.

@!; Sometime after Floyd first meeting you and before he got captured, Floyd had confessed his feelings to you. Confessed that he had loved you since he saw you that first day when you gave him a plum pie. Confessed that he adored everything about you; he adored your laugh and your smile; he adored the way you worried about him, but not in an overpowering way, the way you always were there for him, the way that he could come back to you at the end of the day and you will be waiting with open arms. He adored the way you mothered him a little. Not in the way a mother would actually mother their children, yet in the way you were so caring and compassionate, while being sensible and calm made his heart beat out of his chest. You were perfect in every way, shape, and form. He loved you so much it hurt him more to imagine what you were going through when he had gotten captured by Velvet and Veneer. It was complete anguish to think about you sitting on the couch by the door in the little home you two made, waiting for him to only go on days without anything to report. It choked him up to think he could be the reason you were hurting at this moment. But he just hoped you could wait a little longer, hold out a little more, (you always had managed to, though it burns him to think to ask this of you) for him; and he will take everything just to be able to return back home to you again at the end of the day. One day. one day. Until that day, please.. please hold out. Please don't cry like he is.

@!; The day that Floyd was rescued by his brothers, and Poppy and Viva, after the initial shock wore off his first and only thought was you. It filled his head and he couldn't ignored the thoughts that piled up because everything in his body was screaming for you. For your touch and comfort and he couldn't help but blurt out, "We need to go to Lonesome Flats. Now!" Which got a lot of weird looks from his brothers; mainly Clay, Spruce, and JD looking around wondering what and where 'Lonesome Flats' was while Branch was just plain confused, maybe even a little hurt. Floyd didn't mean to hurt Branch, or any of his brothers by this request, but he needed to make sure you knew he was okay. "The country troll region?" Poppy questioned as she walked over to Branch's side. She tilted her head to the side, "Why do you need to go there?" "Yeah! Why do you need to go there? We just got you back, Floyd." Branch seemed stand-offish by this request, crossing his arms and scrunching his nose a little. Floyd understood where Branch was coming from, he did almost just die in front of all his brothers, but surely they would understand? "Please, just trust me. I.. I need to get back there." Floyd pleaded with his brothers, "I'll explain everything there or on the way. We just- we need to go now! The sooner the better.." And despite everyone's confusion, and unsureness about this all, it was a family road trip to Lonesome Flats. Where, when they finally arrived, Floyd rushed out of the van towards your little bakery. He slowed a bit seeing the window shut and your door not propped open. His eyes widened when he read the sign attached: Closed. But it was your usual opening time, what.. where were you? "There ya' are!" Floyd wiped around hearing Delta's voice. He didn't catch her unfriendly tone at first, though registered it as soon as he caught her face. Still, that didn't stop him, "Delta! Where is (Y/N)?" "More important, where have you been? You've been gone longer than our grazin' cattle, and they returned a month ago!" Delta crossed her arms and let out a huff of annoyance. "You've got your poor-" Though Delta didn't make it far before Floyd saw an all too familiar person out of the corner of his eye. You always managed to steal his attention, and his brothers were even more confused upon seeing Floyd rush over to you; despite stumbling a little bit on his starting sprint due to the lack of energy he has. "Floyd!" Branch called after his brother, just wanting him to be careful. Yet he froze upon feeling Poppy's hand on his shoulder, hearing a small 'aww' escape her lips as she watched Floyd literally jump into your arms. You had noticed him as he ran towards you, and despite carrying a bucket of fresh milk, you dropped it quickly to catch him. Which, was a good idea, since you didn't expect him to cause you to stumble a little. Even so, you laughed as Floyd hid his face in your shoulder feeling your arms tightly hug him. Your hugs were always warm, best described as momma bear hugs. Floyd had missed them and you. He had missed your warmth and your laugh.

"Oh Sugarplum, what happened?" And he missed your gentle nature and calm tone, despite everything he probably put you through after he left. You were gentle as you placed your hands on his shoulders and backed him up a little, so you were looking at each other eye to eye. Floyd couldn't even get a word out before you noticed everything different about him, "Oh my dear.. you look tired! Skinner, and your hair-! Oh my lord, what in the Trollstice happened to your hair, Sugarplum?!" Floyd now had his back facing you, as you had spun him around. Oh, Floyd could just melt at this moment, feeling your hands run through his hair as you took in all the whites that now mingled with the hot pink. He knew you were more used to his darker roots, and not like these whites were natural but he thought they suited him a little more now. Though, just as Floyd was about to answer you, he caught sight of his brothers and the plus ones. And at that moment, wide wide, he knew he had a lot of explaining to do to his brothers...

@!; It wasn't like Floyd was embarrassed of you, far from it, yet when you had him up and about dancing to Brozone.. it caused his cheeks to flush; from both embarrassment and lovingly. It had been a few months after he introduced you to the family, and he was glad his brothers had taken to you like he did and accepted you into the family. Branch was a little on the nose, but he came around.

Now, after a Brozone featured show, the both of you were dancing like crazy people to an old Brozone soundtrack in Poppy's pod. Poppy was trying to get Branch to dance with her while Clay was trying not to give into Viva's silliness.

Bruce was sitting on some chairs with JD, chatting and making fun of the younger brothers; as it was their bug brother duty to.

"Are you tired yet, sugarplum?" JD snickered as he called over to Floyd and you, his hand cupped to the side of his mouth to allow his voice to carry over the record player. Floyd grumbled a little at his brother's antics and tried to chuckle it off, maybe even shoot something back.

Yet he didn't even have to!- "What's wrong with me calling him Sugarplum, John?" Oh. Poppy paused in her pursuit and glanced over to JD with pressed lips and wide eyes, a silent question of what did he just do?

Clay and Branch both seemed to stop as well, Viva being soon to follow. Since meeting, you had never called anyone by their name. It had always been some cute nickname, such as baby or love or princess. Something motherly that made people's hearts warm upon hearing the nickname roll off your tongue with such affection and ease.

Even Floyd has barely ever heard you call anyone by their first name, that was unless they were in trouble. He decided to turn down the record player a little, just so you didn't have to talk over the music.

"Nothing!-" JD put up his hands at once, "It's just-"

"Just what? You wanna tease my darlin' for my decision in calling him sugarplum? Aren't you supposed to be the eldest brother?" You kept Floyd's hands in yours as you cocked an eyebrow up at JD, your eyes narrowing in his direction. Bruce had turned away, silently drinking his milkshake.

"No of course not-" JD started again, though didn't get far before you flashed a bright smile at him.

"Phew! For a second you have me worried there, dumplin'. Thought you were really striking that low!" And JD stared at you and your sudden switch of mood, wondering if he was seeing things or if he wasn't going insane. Either or, you gave Floyd a kiss on the forehead and turned your attention back to him.

"You still have the energy to dance with me, Sugarplum?"

And Floyd swore he fell deeper in love with you, if that was even possible at this point. "With you? Always."

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