#besides it's amara being amara

[lux-scriptum]

Enjoying the image of Amara demanding piggy back rides from Cin. Especially since his wings are Always There. U coulda at least asked for the princess carry why d’you gotta make it hard on him?

[thehighladywrites]

— “You were flirting with me?”

pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

summary: You leave Azriel mid-makeout to debrief with your girls

warnings: suggestiveness, the ic being nosey, miscommunication, rhys and cassian knowingly riling az up, the girls get drunk and interrogate reader, the boys get drunk and interrogate az,

amara’s note: this might be the funniest thing i’ve ever written. also sorry for my absence i’m posting more soon💗💗

You’ve had a massive crush on Azriel since the day you met him. He didn’t really notice you and was somewhat nice to you.

Really, you had no idea how you started crushing on him, I mean he paid you no special attention or anything. Maybe it was because he was quiet, handsome, tall, dark, mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He also cracked jokes and flashed grins that made your heart flutter. The Mother knows how much it grated your nerves whenever a male tried to hit or talk to you when you clearly had no desire to.

Azriel was the complete opposite and you started worrying that you were the one who grated on his nerves everytime you tried speaking to him.

“Hi Azriel, how are you doing?” you noticed him sitting at the dining table, collected yourself and asked him.

“Good,” he said staring straight into your soul before he realized his answer wasn’t really socially appropriate so asked you, “How are you?”

You just smiled awkwardly and nodded, “I’m fine, thanks.”

And that was how 90% of your conversations went. There was no further comments or extra questions and fuck if it wasn’t awkward. You really wanted to get to know him but you also knew how impossible it was since even the people he had been friends with for half a millennium often considered him a mystery.

Sensing the weird energy in the room, you just swiftly said goodbye, not bothering to stay to hear his goodbye.

He wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to do something, perhaps eat brunch at the restaurant you talked about to Cassian but you were moving before he had the chance. Azriel got extremely annoyed with himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t ask you out like a normal person.

With determination, he promised himself to try the next time.

—

The girls all knew about your very obvious crush on Azriel and encouraged you to approach him often. They were all mated and happy and you wish it was you, you that had a mate, you who got loved and kissed and hugged and fucked.

But you just had to be obsessed with a man that paid you no attention… Maybe that’s why you wanted him, you viewed him as a challenge, and you loved challenges. Despite wanting his attention and wanting to get to know him, you still had self-respect and didn’t act like a pathetic, desperate, love-sick puppy infront of him.

So you went from always greeting him and smiling at him, trying to initiate conversations to flat out ignoring him. I mean, he never talked to you first so maybe it was time to accept it and just admire him from afar.

—

Azriel began to sense a dullness in his days, a void he couldn't really pinpoint. He realized he hadn’t talked to you, or rather, you hadn't talked to him while he played it cool, trying not to make his beating heart obvious. He noticed the absence of your chatter, questions and lovely voice, realizing that his days grew more mundane and boring without someone asking about his shadows, what his plans were, where he got Truth-Teller.

Azriel observed during dinner that you didn't glance at him once; your attention was solely on the girls or his brothers. You chose to stand up, walk across the dining room and grab the bowl of potatoes beside him instead of asking him for it, and it really irked him. Was he not worthy of passing a simple bowl of fucking potatoes?

He wondered if he had done something to make you avoid talking to him. Despite not being the most talkative person, he paid very close attention to everything you said, even if it seemed unnoticed. Azriel loved your presence and he thought he made his interest in you very clear when he looked at you.

Cassian had said girls like eye contact, still everytime he stared into your soul, you only looked weirded out. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he wasn’t keeping eye contact long enough.

He had grown extremely fond of your talking and felt empty without it. Finding you alone in the kitchen while you prepared a quick breakfast, Azriel decided it was time to talk. The others had already headed to the training grounds as you had slept in. You were cooking your breakfast, not noticing Azriel.

“Hey.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as you slowly looked up at him. Was he really talking to you? But why?

“Yeah?”

He stayed quiet for a bit, just staring at you in that weird way he always did. Even though he wasn't sure if you liked him back and was afraid of rejection, he still wanted to talk to you.

“How have you been?”

You fight the urge to furrow your brows in confusion. Since when the hell did Azriel care? You were truly baffled and tried to act normal.

“Uh, I’ve been good, you?”

Azriel didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Usually, you'd spontaneously share every detail of your morning routine, even without him asking. He fucking loved to listen as you talked about your broken hairbrush, the struggle of choosing clothes, the snug fit of your leathers due to gained muscles, and the morning hassle with your hair, prompting you to wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual.

“I’m okay. Have you done anything else today? How is your hairbrush?”

A stupid question really, but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to see that familiar spark in your eyes as you talked about anything and everything. No way would he ever forgive himself if he ruined something between you.

Your face heated at the fact that he remembered such a minuscule detail about something you said weeks ago.

”Oh, the hairbrush? It broke so I got an enchanted one. Heard it's like a hair miracle, tried it, and it really worked. By the way, your hair looks good. Did you cut it lately?”

Azriel couldn't help but warm up at your rambling. His eyes widened at first, and then he threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound was familiar, yet it never failed to feel like the first time. It was a beautiful and joyful melody that always managed to make you melt on the inside.

"I really missed you," he admitted, feeling your heart pound in your chest, unable to meet his gaze.

"You did?" Azriel's soft smile warmed your heart, the one you'd nearly missed.

"I did. I enjoy being around you and hearing your voice," he confessed.

"Oh, I always thought you didn’t." You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief.

Stepping closer, Azriel's presence loomed over you, his hand gently lifting your chin.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m sorry that my silence ever gave you that impression. I thought I was making my interest clear, to be honest,” he murmured, sincerity gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Okay, I promise I won’t misunderstand again. But why did you think you made yourself clear?” you whispered, feeling a rush of energy as you locked eyes with him.

“Because I made a point of holding prolonged eye contact, thinking it was a clear signal of my interest,” he explained matter-of-factly.

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. “So, all those times you were staring at me, you were actually flirting?”

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, yes. I thought you knew.”

Suppressing a giggle, you bit your lip and glanced away, not wanting to offend him.

“Ah, not exactly crystal clear, but I understand now. Let’s go for a walk and chat some more,” you suggested, linking your arm through his.

"Sounds perfect. Now, tell me about those new leathers you got," he said, his playful demeanor easing the tension, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.

—

Over the next few months, the bond between you and Azriel deepened. He trusted you with secrets of his life that remained hidden from everyone else. These private conversations became the pillars of your connection, sweet moments for you only.

As the months went by, an unspoken desire for more lingered between you and Azriel. Yet, despite the magnetic pull, something kept you from going the final step.

You've had countless close moments where you almost kissed, where just a tip-toe closer would have sealed the deal. But it never happened. So close, yet so frustratingly far away.

—

Mor's question disrupted the laughter and gossiping of the girls' night, the clinking of wine glasses punctuating the anticipation in the air.

"Remind me again why you and Azriel aren’t a couple?”

Mor's curiosity hung palpably, shifting the mood from gossiping to an interrogation.

“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you replied, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts.

“We have a great connection, but there's this unspoken understanding between us. It’s like there's a boundary we're afraid to cross.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes observing you closely. “Unspoken understanding? Fancy fucking excuse”

Elain giggled and nodded in agreement.

You chuckled, “Maybe it is, but it’s like we're both tiptoeing around something, afraid to ruin what we have. I mean, do I want to be with him? Yeah, I do. But we might fuck something up and I think we have too good of a relationship to throw it all away.”

Nesta leaned back with a smirk, “Sounds like a case of unresolved sexual tension. Maybe the only cure would be to finally get a good dicking.”

You shot her a look, “You make it sound like a medical condition. Also that has got to be some plot from your smutty books.”

Feyre chimed in, “Maybe it is. Maybe it's time you took a bold step to see what happens. Who knows, it might get you laid.”

The group erupted into laughter, but underneath it, you couldn’t ignore the truth in their words. You liked him, there was no denying it. But did he like you as much?

—

“Is she dating anyone?” Rhysand’s casual question caught Azriel off guard as he browsed his big wine selections with Cassian while the girls where out of the house.

Azriel feigned ignorance. “Who?”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a knowing look. “Y/N. Is she dating anyone?”

Something about the question irked Azriel. “Why the hell do you care?”

Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. I might set her up with someone.”

Azriel's jaw clenched as he fought to mask his frustration. Rhysand's casual tone grated on his nerves, igniting a simmering jealousy he hadn't realized he harbored. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to respond evenly,

“She's a grown female, Rhys. She doesn't need you playing matchmaker for her.”

Cassian chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. “Easy, Az. No need to get defensive. I think little Y/N might want a lover of her own, no?”

Azriel's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I'm not being defensive. I just don't appreciate your implication. And no, she doesn’t need some lover.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk bordering on mischief. “Interesting. And why is that?”

Before Azriel could formulate a response, you had returned with the girls, your laughter echoing through the room, shifting the focus away from the questions. Azriel sighed, silently cursing Rhysand's annoying questions and the unresolved feelings stirring within him.

—

You turned off the tap and brought the glass of water to your mouth, much needed after the amounts of wine you and the girls had downed. It was honestly a miracle Mor had the energy to winnow you to the house of wind.

As the girls walked to the library for more drinking, you snuck into the kitchen for some water.

You put down the tall glass of water, swallowing the refreshing and cool drink before your body tingle.

Your stomach flipped, blood heating as your skin broke out in goosebumps.

His presence was undeniable.

Azriel was here.

Turning around to leave the sink, you saw him standing there behind the island, looking at you with a soft look that made your stomach flutter and cheeks heat.

"Hi," Azriel greeted softly as you approached him.

"Hi, Az." you replied, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of him.

"Did you have fun with the girls?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I did," you answered with a smile as you looked down.

Azriel's lips twitched, and he gently lifted your chin with his pointer and thumb. He looked down at your midnight blue dress and raised his brows

"You look absolutely breathtaking."

Your heart beat faster and faster and you were damn sure your friends upstairs could hear how hard it drummed against your chest.

You leaned into his touch, the move careful and intentional. Azriel’s thumb rubbed against your jaw, your eyes glistening in awe at his handsome self.

”Thank you. It’s nothing special, I just like the color.”

Azriel's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "It's not just the color," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you. You’re beautiful."

A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip nervously, unsure how to respond to such sincerity. But damn, he looked good, and the alcohol in your system made you feel bold enough to speak your mind.

"You look really good," you said, your voice a little breathless. "This shirt suits you."

Stepping closer, you let your hand rest on his sturdy chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension between you palpable. Slowly, your hand traveled down to the planes of his stomach, each movement filled with anticipation.

As you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you played with his belt, the air crackling with the electric energy of the moment. His reaction was immediate, his gaze flickering with desire as the tension between you reached its peak.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. The sudden proximity caught you off guard, making you gasp softly.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with desire. "Let's not do things we can't handle."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his proximity sent electric sparks coursing through you. “That sounds like a challenge, Azriel,” you taunted, your voice barely a whisper.

Azriel’s smirk widened, his gaze burning with intensity. “Consider it an invitation.”

You looked at each other, breathing shallowly. Azriel’s intense gaze softened gradually as his eyes traveled further down to your lips. He swallowed, pupils wide with lust.

"May I-"

"Yes."

It was a tender, sweet kiss that caught you off guard in the best way possible. You didn't expect him to be so gentle, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

His touch was tender yet reassuring. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You melted into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness. Your hands found their way to his neck, clinging to him as if you never wanted to let go.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around you lazily, one trailing up your calf and causing you to twitch in surprise. Pulling back, you were met with his clouded, lustful eyes. A mixture of concern and confusion cleared up his hazy gaze.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Here you were, in the kitchen, making out with Azriel—the very male you'd had a crush on for what felt like an eternity. Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine, just give me one second,” you managed to stammer out before turning on your heel and practically stumbling out of the kitchen.

With your heart racing and your mind in a whirlwind, you burst into the library where the girls were lounging, each with a glass of wine in hand. Feyre perked up at your arrival, offering a lazy smile.

“There you are, was wondering where you went,” she mused, clearly already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Without thought, you blurted out the bombshell news. “Guys, Azriel and I kissed.”

The revelation seemed to sober up the entire room, and suddenly, you were bombarded with questions and reactions from your friends.

“Oh my gods, finally,” Mor exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat

“Is he a good kisser? Was it rough or soft? How did he hold you?” Nesta fired off questions, her curiosity piqued.

”All of you owe me 10 cold coins each. I’m always right,” Feyre slumped back in her seat, sipping the wine as she nodded happily.

“I knew you were up to something while we were in here,” Amren chimed in with a knowing smirk.

You grinned widely as you shared all the details with the girls, who were just as excited as you were. They leaned in, eager to hear every bit of the story.

As the questions swirled around you, Elain’s confused expression brought the conversation to a halt.

“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be kissing right now?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

You froze, the weight of her words sinking in. “Well, yes, we were just... making out, and I had to come here. I panicked.”

In response, your friends practically shoved you back outside, Nesta taking the lead. “And don’t you dare come back until your legs are shaking and you have a big smile on your face,” she declared with a mischievous grin.

You took a deep breath, suppressing your smile as you made your way back to the kitchen. Azriel stood there, leaning against the kitchen island with his feet crossed and arms over his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

You softened at his words, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him down slightly, you gave him a loud kiss that ended with an audible "mwah."

"I really couldn't be more comfortable. I love you, Az. Like a whole lot," you confessed, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Azriel's eyes softened at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can put into words."

You felt a rush of warmth flood through you at his admission, your heart fluttering with happiness. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him again, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers down your spine.

Azriel grabbed your hips and slowly backed you into the kitchen island. You yelped when he picked you up and put you on the counter, deeping the kiss.

“Let me take you on a date. I want to do this properly,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You put your hands on his chest lovingly as you nod, smiling up at him. “I’d love that.”

—

extra scene where rhys and cassian visit azriel in the kitchen:

Azriel stood frozen as you left, his mind going into overdrive, worrying if he had done something wrong. Just as he was about to follow you, Rhys and Cassian popped their heads into the kitchen.

"Yo. Where did she go?" Cassian asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the pair, or rather their heads.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Go before she comes back," he urged, shooing them away with his hand.

Rhys leaned against the kitchen island, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's about damn time."

Cassian nodded in agreement. "Fuck yeah, took him long enough. But hey, better late than never."

Azriel frowned, feeling the weight of their words. "You guys make it sound like it was some kind of mission."

Rhys chuckled. "In a way, it was. And you finally completed it."

Azriel sighed, "Stop talking like that, you sound fucking ancient.”

Cassian smirked at him, arms over his chest as he said “Y’all kissed?”

Azriel's cheeks flushed slightly at Cassian's question, but he maintained his composure. "Yeah, we did."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And?"

Azriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "And it was... nice."

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. "Nice? Come on, tongue?”

"Yeah, tongue,” he said trying and failing to suppress a smile.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I knew it, you little freak. What else?”

Azriel's expression turned guarded. “Okay, that's all you dickheads need to know. Now, get the fuck out before she comes back.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up, a finger wagging in Azriel’s face. “You better not fuck in my kitchen, I swear to the Mother, I’ll make you both scrub every inch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and ushered them out, leaning against the kitchen island, waiting for you.

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | part nine

MASTERLIST (series) | Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, asshole, and has mood swings.

Rafe was gone.

You admit, the discovery was disappointing. You frowned at the empty space beside you but you were also relieved. He made the choice for you. He set some boundaries you weren't sure you could sustain and reminded you of who you are to him. It's a good thing.

At least, that's what you tell yourself.

Groaning, you drag yourself out of bed and walk to the bathroom. In front of the dingy mirror, with the silver peeling at the edge, you see all the marks Rafe left on you: the bruises of his fingertips around your hips, the light welts traveling up your spine and backside. He truly is a possessive fuck.

Popping the last Plan B in your mouth, you take a long shower to clean yourself up. Once you exit from the stall, you dress yourself in some old clothes and get ready for your day.

You don't need a clock to know you overslept and your siblings are on the cusps of being late to class. Loaded with an apology, you step out into the hallway to hear giggles and chatters from your sisters.

And Rafe.

"Don't wake your sister." He warns in a whisper, controlling his volume against their laughter. They say something in response you can't discern but it was reciprocated by a familiar sounding scoff.

Your heart squeezes in your chest—from the fact that Rafe stayed or because he's meeting your siblings, you don't know. 

All you know is it's not a good thing.

You round the corner, stepping out of the shadows, to see Rafe locking pinkies with your sisters, pressing his thumbs against their dainty ones.

He didn't notice you. It's Amara who lifts her head at the sound of your footsteps and brightens up, calling out your name with such enthusiasm, it prompts the trio to turn their attention to you. You don't look at Rafe, approaching the kitchen island where they surrounded themselves.

"What's this?"

You trust Rafe. You do, but you don't know what he could've said to them. Since you don't know how long they've been awake or how long they've been talking, you're afraid, in this short interval of time, Rafe revealed things you wanted to hide.

"Well, you were sleeping." Leilani begins, to which you nod along. "So, your boyfriend helped us with breakfast."

Your first instinct is to correct the label: boyfriend. However, it isn't wise to make a scene and throw contradictions in front of your sisters. So, you stop in front of the island and face Rafe.

"You did?" You raise a brow, leaning against the countertop for some stability. Your muscles are aching and your knees are wobbly, but you couldn't take a seat because Leilani and Amara occupied the only stools in the house. You just hope they don't notice.

But Rafe does.

He merely shrugs, giving you a onceover. "Someone had to. The kids were hungry."

You swallow hard, not knowing how to process this gesture. It's sweet that Rafe is helping you with your sisters, but some part of you wished he didn't. That he would separate himself from your life. It's getting too complicated, too entangled, that you're afraid one day you can't pull him away without losing yourself in the process.

You try your best to hide this internal conflict, but something in his gaze suggests he could see right through your walls. As if he could read your thoughts and understand your soul in one.

It's too much to bear. You had to look away.

Distracting yourself by turning back to your sisters, you ask them what they talked about and Amara and Leilani share a glance with Rafe. You want to inquire what that look meant, before Amara bursts out into an anecdote about how Rafe described your first interaction. How you met at your job. How it all happened.

You realize, as she's reciting your timeline, how it feels like a distant memory. You nod along while Amara recounts the story from Rafe's perspective, shifting your weight off of one leg to the other, leaning faithfully on the island to hold you up.

Rafe moves from his position, coming behind you as your sisters talk amongst themselves about the finer details of your love life, and wraps an arm around your waist. Your natural reflex is to pull away, to avoid exhibiting such affection, but Rafe's strength alleviates some pressure off your feet. You were too grateful for it.

"Sore?" He murmurs against the shell of your ear, to which you nod. Something about the confirmation satisfies him.

When Amara finishes her spiel, having strayed from the original conversation to a tangent about her storybook princesses, you glance over at the time on the stove. 

"Leila, Mara. Go get ready." You announce. "Your bus is going to be here soon."

They whine, wanting to stay longer and extract more information from Rafe. They even tried to argue that Rafe has a car, which can drive them to school like a pumpkin carriage. You rebuff with a scold, shaking your head. "Rafe's done enough. Go get ready. Now."

Pouting, they hop off the stools and pad to their room to change. Amara grumbles something under her breath as she passes you, about hoping Rafe was nicer. He was not. But they didn't need to know that.

Once they depart, reality settles in. You gently pull Rafe's arm off of you and move around the island, putting some distance.

Your mind is in a deep haze. You don't know what to do. Especially with your sisters in the house, acutely aware of Rafe's presence, you can't talk to him the way you normally do. You have to keep your composure.

"What did you make them?" You ask evenly, collecting their plates off the counter, realizing their leftovers had ingredients you didn't own in the house.

"I ordered some breakfast from a local bistro."

"Oh, wow. You're spoiling them."

"At least someone in your family lets me."

You recoil at the accusation, albeit true, and drop their plates into the sink, your palms pressed against the metallic edge of the basin. You refuse to look at him, trying to gather yourself, but you can't seem to think straight.

The silence is palpable, stretching for an eternal moment neither of you made a move to clear.

That's when Rafe opens his mouth. "I feel like you're mad."

You sigh, closing your eyes for a brief second. When you turn around, your gaze connects with Rafe. He stands on the other side of the kitchen, where you left him, with an unreadable expression, trying to figure you out.

"I'm not mad," you begin, not knowing how to properly articulate your thoughts. A part of you is happy that Rafe managed to gain your sisters' approval���proving the cynic inside of you wrong and that this could work. Yet, another part of you is upset, because Rafe went above the provision you laid out in your agreement. It's all haywire. "I'm just... They think you're my boyfriend."

"Yeah."

"And we established that you weren't going to meet them."

He grimaces. "We didn't establish that. You said that."

"Yeah, because look at them," you threw a hand in their direction, where they descended down the hallway and into their bedroom, "you got their hopes up."

His jaw ticks. You weren't being fair to him. "It wasn't like I tried. They barged into your room and saw me. What the fuck could I have done?"

He's raising his voice and you're getting a headache. You know it isn't his fault, not entirely, because at the end of the day, you only have yourself to blame. You have so much to worry about: the bar, taking care of your siblings, Aaron—you shouldn't have let him stay over in the first place.

It's too messy.

"It doesn't matter now." You concede, not wanting to start an argument. "It happened. When the time comes, I'll just have to let them down easy."

His hardened expression falters and his shoulders drop. "When what time comes?" 

"Rafe." You sigh with such defeat, it doesn't even sound like you. "Be serious. You know."

Panic rises in his throat but he doesn't allow that to seep through. All he presents is his temper, an irritation that flares through his sharp features. "No, I don't."

"When we—" you gesture between the two of you, keeping your voice steady, "—break up. Finish our end of the deal."

His heart plummets and he can feel all the air leave his lungs. He hasn't even considered the possibility of this ending. Rafe knows it's pure ignorance on his end, that it makes sense to have a deadline, but the thought of not being able to see you, kiss you, fuck you anymore, tears him apart.

He hasn't thought of it. Not once. But clearly you have. And that, in itself, pisses him off. His jaw locks and his words grow mute. He doesn't even know how to respond to that.

"We don't have to think about it now." You announce, noting the change in his demeanor. You don't want to read too much into it. "But it's something I have to prepare for."

Rafe watches you, trying to fathom how you could be so cavalier about this eventuality. Does he mean so little to you? Is all the time spent together not enough? Can you truly survive the prospect of not being with him anymore? It aggravates him beyond belief how you don't seem to care.

When all you do is care. Deeply.

You know if you think about it too much, you might shatter. You know you shouldn't look for signs that aren't there, but you do anyway. You're a realist, a defeatist, and you have to take everything at face value. If you don't, you might break your own heart.

And you can't afford that.

No one will be there to pick it up.

You want to move away from this, shifting the spotlight back on your siblings. "They seem to like you, though."

Rafe swallows the bitter taste in his mouth. He recognizes your feeble attempt to change the conversation, and though he doesn't want to, he knows it's necessary for his sanity. "I hope so."

You perk up at the idea of Rafe caring about them. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He confirms with a strain through his voice. "Amara is sweet. She's easy to win over. Leilani, on the other hand, was skeptical of me. Reminds me of someone I know."

You laugh. The sound dissolves all the tension in his shoulders and pulls him off the edge. God, the control you have over him is dangerous. You could ask anything of him and he would give it to you.

If only you would.

When Rafe cuts a look to you, the serenity rippling off your features, his gaze descends down to your exposed neck, finding it empty of his necklace.

His jaw clenches again. When did you take it off? He wants to ask, the urge on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't want to ruin the delicate atmosphere. 

Amara and Leilani reemerge from their bedroom, all dressed up in their uniforms. You turn away from Rafe and approach your sisters. Squatting down, you adjust the collar on Amara's polo she forgot to fold.

"Rafey." Amara sing-songs, calling out for the blond. "How do we look?"

Leilani and Mara both do a little spin in their outfits. While it's nothing new, it's just something that makes them happy because they like to pretend they’re wearing ballgowns to a gala. A genuine smile rises to his lips, dissolved of his anger.

"Like princesses."

Amara squeals in delight and Leilani grins, and you're left furrowing your brows. They're giving Rafe the same treatment as JJ and Pope and you can't help but wonder what type of interaction they shared before you came into the kitchen.

The bus honks outside. Amara and Leilani leap to their feet and bid a quick I love you to you and a farewell to Rafe.

"Bye, Rafey!" Amara beams zealously, before turning back to you, her expression shifts to a look of solemnity. "Be nice to him."

You choke on a laugh as they dash down the driveway and towards the yellow charter. Once they safety board, you turn back to Rafe with an amused smile.

"You heard what she said," Rafe teases, tipping his head to the doorway. "Be nice to me."

You return to the kitchen. "I think I'm plenty nice to you."

"Yeah?" He uses your close proximity to grab your wrist, pinning you against the island. You giggle as Rafe boxes you in, both arms on either side of your hips. You lift your gaze to meet his cerulean eyes, his pupils dilated. "Prove it."

"No."

Rafe shakes his head with an easy smile. "You're so stubborn," he groans, grabbing your waist and lifting you off the ground. You let out a small yelp, clutching onto his shoulders, just as Rafe sets you on the countertop. He leans forward. "You know I eventually fuck a yes out of you, right?"

His eyes are hungry, raking over your body, lingering over the exposed skin from the lack of coverage your clothes offer. His rough hand slides under your long tee, raising goosebumps.

"Rafe," you grab his hand before he proceeds further, "I'm still sore."

"I'll take care of you, baby."

The words lick a flame up your stomach, scaling you closer to your inhibitions, that you make a last-ditch effort at staying grounded. "I was about to make us breakfast."

He smirks. "I have something I want to eat."

"Rafe."

He echoes your name in the same tone.

Your eyes land on his, softening, willing, and you brush the pad of your thumb across his cheekbone. "Be gentle with me, okay?"

His heart floods with warmth, knowing this request is your way of letting him in. You would never say it, not explicitly, that he's becoming attuned to the subtle signs and little phrases you use to mean something else.

Rafe dips his head in submission, capturing your lips into a kiss. His hand moves between your legs to massage your thighs.

It feels so good. While you may be tender down there, Rafe has a way of making you forget all the pain. It isn't until he gets a little too close on one of your bruises that you flinch, causing him to retreat and assess his damage. "Fuck. I went hard on you, didn't I?"

You can see guilt crowding his features, his forehead creasing as he examines the discoloration. You push away his concern, running a hand down his neck, wrenching his focus back to you.

"It's okay. I wanted you to."

Rafe swallows hard and, before he gets too lost in his head, you pull him back with a kiss. His mouth is hot against yours, his hands roaming over your curves and kneading your flesh in a manner that leaves you aching. By the time his fingers skims across your panties, they're soaked.

He parts to look down at the wet patch. "No one can make you feel this good, right, baby?"

You nod at his words, chewing on your bottom lip. "Sometimes I think you're the only one who can get me this wet."

He hears it again. Him. Only him.

Possession stirs in him and he descends down your open neck, sucking hard against your sensitive skin. You know he's trying to leave marks there too, but you're too lost in your desire to care. Your nails scrape against his chest, lowering to the erection in his pants.

Rafe catches your wrist. His gaze meets yours.

"Am I about to be punished?"

"I want to make you feel good first."

Your heart swells and you smile, lowering your guards. "Okay."

Lifting your hips, Rafe pulls down your shorts and panties. He immediately moves between your legs, spreading your wet folds apart. You shudder into his light touch.

"I said gentle, not tease." You reprimand and he chuckles lowly.

"Did anyone ever tell you to be patient?"

"No, can you teach me?"

His expression blossoms into pride and he pushes your top up till your tits are fully exposed. Throwing the shirt onto the growing pile on the kitchen floor, Rafe begins to plant wet kisses down the column of your throat, to your shoulders, to the valley of your breasts before reaching your naval.

That's when he sinks to his knees, stepping between your legs and delivering sweet, agonizing kisses to the inside of your thighs while his fingers collect your arousal.

You whine under his touch, your pussy aches from the lack of stimulation. "Hurry."

He answers by gently biting and scraping his teeth against your inner thighs, causing you to grip the edge of the counter. The pleasure is explosive and unbearable.

"Rafe," you beg with a moan, feeling the tip of his fingers lightly entering your cunt before drawing back. "Please."

"I thought I'm giving you a lesson." He murmurs against your heated skin, so close to your core, he can feel your throbbing underneath. "You're not doing a very good job."

"I'll do so much better if you kiss me."

He laughs, about to pull himself up to meet your lips when your hand lands on his head and pushes him back down. "No, down there."

And he listens.

Rafe finally puts you out of your misery and flattens his tongue against your slit, adding pressure. You moan loudly, pushing yourself into his face as he shoves his slick-covered fingers into your mouth. The act surprises you.

But arouses you further.

You grab his arm, holding it in place as you take him in your mouth. Your eyes lock with his as he eats you out and you clean his fingers.

Rafe sucks on your clit as you continue to suck on his fingers, your moans muffled by his thick digits and he shoves them deeper, causing you to gag. He fucking loves that sound.

"No one is going to take care of you as well as I do," he declares into your slopping cunt, "no one."

You nod fervently, your climax reaching closer that you shut your eyes, buckling your hips. Rafe had to pull both hands back, using them to hold you down as he laps over your clit and adds more suction, before finally pushing you over the edge.

You come on his face, slumping back against the island in heavy breaths. When Rafe pushes himself to his feet, he comes forward to cup the nape of your neck and kiss you.

"Fucking mine." He murmurs against your swollen lips, tasting yourself on him. "Do you hear me?"

Rafe pulls back, his eyes locking firmly with yours, waiting for you to answer. You swallow hard, not knowing what to say, that you break the gaze to look down at his pants.

"I haven't taken care of you, yet," you whisper, reaching forward to palm him through his slacks, feeling a bit of wetness at the tent. "Did you come already?"

"No." He snaps bitterly at the accusation before his expression falters and he groans at the way you touch him. "I don't want to hurt you."

You soften at the sentiment, removing your hand to hold the side of his profile. "Rafe. I'm okay. I swear. It'll heal." You affirm, examining the way his eyes go gentle. "I want to make you feel good too."

The corner of his lips turns upwards. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod, unzipping his pants for him. He does the rest, pulling out his swollen cock, which is leaking beads of precum.

"You gonna lay back for me, baby?" He asks thickly. He's throbbing with need and wants to be inside of you. Rafe steps between your legs, lining his tip against your entrance, readying himself to push in. Before he does, you grab his wrist.

"Wait." You stop him, reminded of something. "You have to pull out today."

His brows furrow for a moment, before recognition dawns on him. He remembers seeing the Plan B in your bathroom but he didn't realize you were running low.

"You're out?"

"I took the last one this morning." You explain. "I sometimes take two because I get nervous."

He faintly remembers the first night you stayed at Tannyhill. When you mentioned something about birth control and he brushed you off. He didn't realize he would be fucking you this much; that he would be starved of you.

Rafe likes being inside you. He likes coming in you. And he believes you like it too.

So, it was an easy decision for him.

"I'll get you birth control." He announces and, before you have the chance to object, he thrusts in you, bottoming out.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper, falling back against the countertop, spreading your legs further apart to grant him closer access.

He tips his head back in a low groan, moving slow. You feel so good around him. You always do. Your pussy is wet and tight and squeezes him perfectly. He was honest about last night—he doesn't even want to think about another party, or drink, or woman when he could have this. When he could have you.

You're his vice.

"Faster." You prompt, drawing Rafe's hand to your tits to grope them. He doesn't listen at first. "Rafe, I need you to fuck me like you mean it."

Such a foul mouth. But only for him.

"You have no fucking patience," he declares, quickening his speed and squeezing your breasts. The sound of your wetness is heard through the small kitchen and the little gasps and mewls leaving your mouth attests to your satisfaction. "Can't fucking take care of you without your whining."

His words deliver an intense pulse of desire through your body and you clench around him.

"You just make me feel good," you moan, hearing his heavy breathing as he rails into you more roughly. "So fucking good."

It hurts but it doesn't. You don't voice that, afraid he's going to stop. To you, the pain easily fades into the background while pleasure replaces and courses through you.

Rafe fills you completely, playing with your nipples while hitting all the right spots. Your stomach coils back to the familiar feeling of tightness.

He feels it. He sees you. You're writhing in pleasure underneath him, crying out his name, and he can't seem to imagine another sight. It's you.

You. You. You.

"Rafe, don't stop," you moan, wrapping your legs around his torso. The possessive gesture raises a smile on his face. "God, I'm about to—"

You don't get to finish, arriving at your peak as Rafe continues further. The way your walls clench around him, adding pressure around his cock, pushes him towards his own orgasm.

You're overstimulated and heaving, but you don't let Rafe go until he comes. His incessant thrusts cause you to cry and whine, and when you feel him twitch inside of you—you know.

"Out," you're about to push him off, but he pulls out first, fisting the base of his cock as he pumps out his release. You watch as his handsome face screws up in pleasure, white rope of his cum spurts out and lands all over your chest and stomach.

When he empties himself completely, his eyes meet yours. You can't help but shed a smile, laughing.

"What?" He breathes out.

"You look so fucking hot coming on me." You announce, pulling yourself to the ledge and grabbing Rafe in for a kiss. Both of your heavy breaths collide with each other, savoring the taste of your drawn-out, tired and breathless air, but wanting nothing else.

When you pull apart, you announce you need to take another shower to clean up. You try to get off the counter yourself, but when you hop off, your legs wobble like a baby deer finding their first steps.

Naturally, Rafe picks you up and takes you to your bathroom.

He didn't help you. You didn't allow him—the act is too intimate. When you clean yourself up (again) and step back into your bedroom, you find Rafe leaning against your drawers, shaking his head at his phone.

"What?" You ask, curious, when he lifts his head up to find you in your towel. "What happened?"

He shakes his head again, snapping himself off of a trance.

"Nothin'. It's just Top." He explains, and when you tilt your head, silently asking for more information, he relents. "It's just some Kook party he's hosting tomorrow. He invited me to go."

You're pulled back to reality. Where it's no longer in the confines of your house—where you just had sex with Rafe in your kitchen island. No, you think about to your responsibilities.

You think back to yesterday. How Rafe came over, how he confessed he didn't liked parties anymore, how he fucked you. Those were the good.

But, there was also the bad. You remember how Aaron was here, how you need to pay him back in three—now, two—days, and how he's a dangerous man with real threats.

Your mind is whirling, pulling pieces, that it's all clicking together. A plan formulates in your head, something solid and achievable, but makes your blood run cold.

You pray Rafe doesn't notice the change in your demeanor, this struck of realization, that you try to push it off onto something else.

"Are you going?" You ask lightly.

"No." He says firmly, without hesitation. "I'm done with them, remember?"

You do; you just didn't realize it was so concrete. Rafe says it with this look in his eyes, something vulnerable, something more, that it makes you swallow hard.

You can't tell him what you're about to do. What you need.

You just hope you don't hurt him in the process.

★ part ten ★

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[cvpiddszn]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣.𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

a/n: honestly i have no excuses for the no content. just surprise!!

summary: amara hughes says her first word

warnings: children

word count: 0.9k

birdie & jack masterlist

"C'mon Ams! You can do it? Say da-da.” Jack slowed his words, opening his mouth wider to emphasize the word but I only grinned. I knew that it was close to her first word and seeing Jack so excited to witness it made my heart melt. He had just gotten back from another long roadie, finally getting a few days break and he was convinced that he was going to crack her. 

There was a thought in the back of my mind that she would say it, but not when pressured to. She would say it at the most unexpected time. I sat beside them, an old rerun of Friends playing on the TV. Neither of us paid attention but rather to the girl who was eagerly trying to jump up and down on her father’s thighs as Jack’s hands rested under her arms holding her up. 

“Jacky, sweetheart, you can’t force her first words out of her,” I mentioned, tapping his shoulder gently to get his attention. My husband only groaned in protest, setting her down on his lap. She stared up at him with stary eyes, blinking her blue eyes at him innocently. I small little blonde curl fell in front of her face as Jack brushed it aside. 

Amara looked towards me like she was trying to give me a sign that said “Help me, Mom���. I nearly giggled at the sight, grabbing her from Jack and placing her on my hip, looking back to her father who pouted in protest. I poked her small nose, kissing it gently. “Is Daddy bothering you, sweet girl?” Her head went to a nod, my brows raising at the gesture. “Did you see that, Jacky? She just nodded!”

Jack didn’t find it as funny, crossing his arms across his chest in a pout while I just laughed. He huffed out in jealousy, “She nods to everything now. I’m starting to think that she gets that from you, little bird.” He leaned forward to poke at my thigh, while I just laughed. 

“Nope, her little nods are something you would do. She picks up everything that you do, J. Meaning everything she does, she looks to you for. Just like how you just laugh at how she tosses her food on the floor? She thinks she’s funny. Don’t you, Mara?” I smiled at her gently and she nodded once again while I burst out laughing placing her on the ground near her toys and picking something up while she grabbed it and began to chew on it.

Lowen rushed into the room, pulling at his Dad’s sweatpants and begging him to play mini sticks with him. “Please, Dad. Lake won’t play with me, he says he’s tired of playing. He wants to play with Amara and I still want to play.” Jack only nodded his reply, taking his son’s hand and letting him pull him downstairs as Jack and Lake switched places. Lake replaced Jack’s spot on the couch. 

There were often times that I saw many differences between the twins. Neither is much like their Dad or me but their Uncles. Lowen was much like his Uncle Quinn, competitive but quiet, and said very few things, he preferred to be out of the spotlight but bathed in compliments. Lake was more like Luke, quiet and less competitive, preferred to celebrate quietly, and didn’t know how to accept praise even though we as parents constantly gave it out. The one thing they both completely lit up about was their family, they loved talking about their little sister or their dad being in the NHL, along with their plenty of uncles playing as well. 

“Jacky,” Amara’s little voice spoke up and it took me a moment before realizing that it was her. My eyes widened briefly, staring at her blankly as she blinked back at me. 

I leaned down toward her, picking her up. “What was that, sweet girl?” I asked hoping that I didn’t completely make up that she said Jack’s name. I looked back at Lake who stood up at his little sister’s first word being spoken. 

“Jacky!” She clapped her hands together with a smile and my jaw opened, I watched as Lake ran out of the room racing downstairs to tell Jack who would be ecstatic that she said his name. 

“That’s right, sweet girl! Did you say Daddy’s name? I think you did! Jack!” My voice called out, and I swear that I could hear a crash from downstairs, the sound of someone running up the stairs in a hurry nearly stumbling in the process. Jack came bursting through the room. “She said your name J!”

“Did she really? Say it again, Ams!” Jack took her from my arms, smiling wide as he waited patiently (his version of patient) for his little girl to repeat the word.

She took a moment, opening her mouth before the word came out again. “Jacky.”

My husband paused watching her, eyes flickering between hers and mine. He took a moment, processing her words before turning his head towards me, a teasing glare on his face, “This is your fault. Maybe you should start calling me Daddy around the house.” He commented and when he listened to himself, he became confused. “It did not sound like that in my head.”

I patted his shoulder gently, “Remember when you tried to make me do that? Not happening again,” My nose scrunched up. “But hey, I think it’s better that she said your name instead of Dad, just means she can’t call anyone else Daddy.” I shrugged.

Little did we know that the little girl wouldn’t know any other word for the next three weeks, so she followed around Jack saying my nickname for him since we were younger. And never once did I think that I was going to be okay with sharing the nickname until the word came from her lips.

[kwanisms]

🎄 Tales from Camp Holiday Special 05 🎄

«« previous | masterlist | next »»

➮ chef!Mingyu × fem baker!Reader wc: 6.6k summary: Mingyu and his wife, Y/N, get a little dirty while closing up the bakery the night before Christmas Eve. genres/themes/au: nothing but fluff and smut; holiday themes; non idol au, chef au, baker au, married couple au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, established relationship, mentions of stressful work conditions, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist: @yoonguurt @wonw00t @aikisbbq @enhacolor @duchesskaren @sherituhhh @wonderfulshinee @gaebestie @drunk-on-dk @seokgyuu @salty-for-suga @aaniag @dnylwoo @1004luvangel join my taglists: main | TFC: Holiday Special closes when part 7 goes up! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i'm back with more foodplay! It plays a much bigger role this time lol Mingyu and MC are pretty nasty, going at it in their own business kitchen. This one was so fun to write, expanding on their dynamic and how they’ve grown since meeting at camp all those years ago. Now they’re married and the banter is adorable. I love their relationship. Thank you so much for reading and if you like this part, please reblog! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (they're married but yall should use protection unless ur married too just, protect yourself lol) oral (m receiving), marking (m receiving), strength kink, size kink, bottom!Mingyu (but he's stronk boy), foodplay (frosting, whipped cream, cherries, etc), some light temperature play (ice; f receiving, m receiving), creampie (yum), dirty talk, begging kink, slight degradation (m receiving), it’s dirty, it’s filthy, they’re nasty lol

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Soft jazzy tunes floated through the air, drowned out by the chatter of customers as you headed back up to the front counter, a smile plastered on your face. Your cashier looked almost beside herself as she tried to get the terminal to work. “I’m here,” you said, drawing her attention. You could see the tears threatening to spill.

You felt your heart hurt for the poor girl. Amara was a hard worker but she’d never worked the holiday season with you at your bakery so she wasn’t prepared for the volume of orders, especially on Christmas Eve.

It was your fourth holiday season so you were falling into a practiced routine by this point. The rush, the influx of customers and orders, and of course, the Karens. Seeing as you were the owner of the establishment, you got to choose how to deal with these difficult customers as you saw fit.

The perks of being the boss.

Leaning in, you whispered in her ear. “Go into the back and take a break. I got this.” She nodded and thanked you, slipping past you and through the back door as you turned to greet the customer in front of you. “Sorry about that,” you said softly as you exited the program on the computer and rebooted it.

“It’s her first Christmas working with us,” you explained. “How can I help you?”

The man in front of you rolled his eyes and you could already tell what kind of interaction you were about to have. “Maybe this place should hire competent workers,” the man snapped angrily. You kept the smile on your face. “We do hire competent workers,” you replied. “But we’re all human and we all get overwhelmed and stressed from time to time.”

The man scoffed. “It’s unprofessional.”

The smile finally slipped from your face. “It’s unprofessional to be a human being?” you asked, a hint of confused annoyance to your voice. “It’s unprofessional to get emotional at work. It’s a place of business.” You narrowed your eyes. “And it’s childish to berate and scream and curse at an eighteen year old girl,” you snapped back, taking the man by surprise.

“How dare you speak to me like that,” he said indignantly, puffing up with an air of superiority. “I want to speak to your manager!” ‘Ah… the magic words,’ you thought to yourself, smiling inwardly. “I’m sorry, sir,” you replied. “The manager isn’t here right now.”

Mingyu cursed to himself as he walked, tripping over the curb but thankfully didn’t fall. He continued to the back passenger door of his car, opening it before leaning down to grab the paper sacks, balancing them precariously in his arms as he attempted to close the door with his hip.

Only once it clicked shut and the car beeped, signaling it locked, did Mingyu walk away, heading down the sidewalk towards the bakery. He’d gone to grab some last minute supplies as you had run out of a few spices and some extracts. He’d also grabbed the stuff to whip up a pre-Christmas Eve dinner for you and your workers.

He cursed the busy sidewalk and businesses lining the street for making him park so far away and having to walk the rest of the way to the bakery. He knew the place was busy but he didn’t realize how busy it was going to be.

Upon reaching the bakery, he swore under his breath as he realized his hands were no longer free to open the door and let himself in. Lucky for him, a patron chose that exact moment to exit, their purchases in their hands. They held the door for him, allowing him to enter the establishment. Mingyu thanked them and hurried in where the crowd seemed to have doubled in size.

As he reached the counter, he set the bags down, opening the small door before grabbing the bags and moving to the back where he set them down, looking around. He caught the eye of one of your bakers and gestured at the bags. “Could you unload these for me. I’m gonna pop up front and help Y/N,”

The baker, Geoffrey, nodded and moved over to the table as Mingyu shrugged out of his coat, hung it up, and grabbed an apron, tying it on before heading out into the store front where he saw you standing at the register, arguing with an older man who was red in the face.

Mingyu walked over, ready to launch over the counter at the man who was currently shouting at his wife.

“What’s going on here?” Mingyu asked, announcing his arrival. The man looked up from you, giving Mingyu a once over. A smile of relief spread over your face. “Perfect,” you said. “Here’s the manager,” you said, turning back to the man and stepping away from the terminal to help the next guest while Mingyu took your place.

“What seems to be the problem, sir?” Mingyu asked, knowing before the man even spoke what he would be dealing with. It was a sort of code between the two of you, calling him the manager was just a way of setting up the rude customers to realize the consequences of their actions.

Most of the time, when Mingyu entered the equation, they would demand that you be fired for being incompetent or rude or refusing to give a discount. It often led to hilarity when Mingyu, keeping up with the charade, would insist he can’t do that before revealing that you were the owner.

Which is what he was prepared to do but he didn’t have the chance when the red-faced man spoke.

“I’ve never been treated so poorly in an establishment in all my life!” he shouted, drawing the attention of most of the customers, some who were already recording the exchange on their phones. “I’m friends with the owner! I should call him and tell him what an awful bunch of employees he’s allowing to run his business.

Mingyu kept the fake smile on his face. “Oh, you know the owner?” Mingyu asked, to which the man nodded, pulling his phone out. “I’ll call him right now!” he threatened. Mingyu shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he started, picking up the phone. “I’ve got the owner on speed dial,” he added, pushing a series of buttons. He waited for the first ring before handing the phone to the man.

“It’s ringing,” he said. “You can talk to the owner yourself.” The man snatched the phone and held it to his ear, grumbling about finally getting real service. Mingyu waited by the terminal, apologizing to the customers waiting patiently behind the man.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and apologized to the customer in front of you. She was a regular so she understood that when the boss’ phone rings, the boss had to answer it. You checked the screen and saw it was the number for the store calling you. Resisting the urge to smile, you excused yourself to the customer and swiped the green button, bringing the device to your ear.

“Hello?” you asked, glancing over to where Mingyu stood, giving you a devilish smile, the irate man holding your store phone to his ear. “Yeah,” the man snapped. “I want to speak to the owner of this bakery. Where is he?” Still fighting back that smile, you responded.

“Oh, that’s me. I’m the owner!”

The man looked up from the phone, turning his head to lock eyes with you. He then pulled the phone from his ear and looked at Mingyu. “What is this? She’s the one who was rude to me!” Mingyu took the phone from the man, hanging it up. “Yeah,” Mingyu replied. “She’s the owner. If you’re going to lie about knowing the owner, at least do your research about the place you’re trying to scam,” Mingyu said, looking up at the man, his smile now gone. “Also, you’re lucky I love my wife too much to cause a scene in her establishment. So either we can start over from the top and you can be nice or you can get out and never come back,” Mingyu said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s your choice.”

╾───────────────────⭒✧⭒──────────────────╼

“Thank you, come again!” you called, waving as the last of the patrons exited and you walked over to flip the sign, turning the lock on the door and turned around to look at Mingyu who was counting the drawer. You walked over with a sigh, giving Amara a smile as she started to sweep.

“Thank you for handling that customer,” Amara said softly. “He reminded me of my dad and I just couldn’t…” she trailed off. You placed a comforting hand on her back. “It’s alright, Amara,” you told her. “I don’t deal with customers like that. I give them one chance to start over and if they don’t, they don’t get served. I’m not going to let customers walk all over me or my employees.”

“Babe,” Mingyu called, making you look in his direction. “Can you take over for me? I’m gonna get started on that dinner.” You nodded, moving around to the backside of the counter and over to the terminal. “Thank you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek and disappearing into the back.

You started counting, adding to his progress as Amara continued to sweep. She reached the counter and glanced at the door before leaning on the counter. “Miss Y/N?” she asked, making you look up with wide eyes. You hadn’t noticed she’d gotten so close. “Yes?”

“It might be a little personal but can I ask you something?” You nodded as you finished counting the drawer and shut the drawer, keeping the till in your hands. “What’s it like, being married to the nicest, most handsome guy in the world?”

You let out a laugh at her question. You weren’t laughing at her, just at the wording. “Don’t let Mingyu hear you say that,” you said softly. “It’ll fan his ego even more.” Amara smiled but waited for your answer all the same. “Being married to Mingyu is like having a massive, overly excited golden retriever but it can talk. He’s nice and always happy,” you explained.

“But he’s also clumsy, loyal, honest, and trustworthy,” you continued, shifting your weight to your other foot. “He’s a people pleaser,” you added. “Always wanting to help or be involved in some way, which is why he’s making dinner for the staff right now.” Amara’s smile widened.

“You really hit the jackpot, didn’t you?” she asked in a dreamy voice. You smiled, nodding. “I certainly did,” you replied, making your way over to the door to the back. “Taking the kitchen assistant position at summer camp when I was in culinary school was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.” Amara tilted her head. “Why’s that?” she asked.

“That’s where I met Mingyu.”

Amara went back to her sweeping while you entered the kitchen, eyes landing on your husband as he stood at the stove, a steaming saucepan on one of the back burners as he stirred something in a skillet. You tore your gaze from him, heading for the office instead to finish up your closing duties.

As you separate the cash transactions, resetting the drawer to its starting amount and putting the sales away in the safe. Shutting the door, you returned to your desk to finish up some paperwork you’d been putting off. As you were filing it away, you heard a knock on the door and looked up at one of your employees. “Hey, is it alright if I take off? My wife and the baby are waiting for me for Christmas Eve dinner and I really don’t wanna keep them waiting.” You smiled up at them.

“Sure, Candy,” you answered. “Make sure to take one of the extra pies on the counter. And tell Bethany I said hello,” you added. Candy smiled at you, thanking you as they headed back into the kitchen. You heard them call out a holiday parting to Mingyu who repeated the sentiment.

Getting up from the desk, you walked over to the door and peered into the kitchen. Mingyu was plating the finished food and looked up as you entered the kitchen. “Candy just left,” he announced, returning his gaze to his work. “I know,” you replied, walking over to where he stood.

“I told her to take one of the pies,” you added. Mingyu looked up at you before looking at the counter where the pies stood. “I hope they didn’t take the cherry one,” he pouted as he went back to his work. You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning against the counter.

“The cherry is already put away for us.” you replied, smiling when your husband looked up at you with excited eyes. He finished spooning sauce onto the food and returned the skillet to the stove. “So,” you started, looking down at the plates. There were four of them. “What have you made for us today, Chef?”

Mingyu moved back, standing in front of you, his hands landing on your hips. “I like it when you call me that,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “Makes me feel all tingly.” You pushed him back playfully. “Alright, pervert,” you replied as Amara and one of your chefs, Finn, walked into the kitchen. “Dinner is served,” you said, narrowing your eyes at Mingyu.

“Tell them what you’ve made,” you added, turning to face Amara and Finn.

They were your two youngest employees. Amara was still in high school but wanted to become a pastry chef like you and Finn. Her parents were both successful in business and from what Amara let on, they weren’t very involved in her life except financially so she had come to see you as sort of an authority figure, likening you to the older sister she never had.

Finn, on the other hand, had moved across the country, settling in this town and finding work at your bakery the year it opened. Finn’s family were back in his hometown and he could never afford to fly home to see them so you had always made sure to make it known he was welcome to spend the holidays with you and Mingyu.

“I have made for you, pan-seared duck breast with a peppercorn cream sauce and roasted garlic butter parmesan potatoes,” he announced, gesturing at the plates. “And!” he added, rushing over to the fridge, opening it and disappearing for a moment to emerge with two unopened bottles of red wine.

“Could you grab the glasses for me?” Mingyu asked and you shook your head, walking over to your office to grab four glasses. Amara looked nervously from the bottle of wine to you and back. “Am I… allowed to have wine?” she asked softly. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

You smiled as you returned. “This one,” you said, tapping one of the bottles on the lid. “Is my favorite wine and is a non-alcoholic wine by Leitz.” You could see the relief wash over Amara’s face. “And this one is a Jacques Bourguignon,” Mingyu added, tapping the other bottle. “It does have alcohol.”

You rolled your eyes as you opened the bottle of Leitz, pouring a glass for yourself and one for Amara as Mingyu opened and poured a glass of the Bourguignon for Finn and himself. The four of you stood in the kitchen, sipping on your wines and cutting into your food.

“This is amazing!” Amara said with a sigh. “I had no idea you could cook so well!” Laughter burst out of you as you sat on the counter, nursing your glass of non-alcoholic wine. Finn doubled over, clutching his stomach in laughter as Mingyu looked slightly offended.

Amara glanced from you to Finn, confusion on her face. “What did I say?” she asked, pouting. You patted her shoulder from your spot. “Mingyu is a chef,” you answered. Amara’s eyes widened comically as she started sputtering an apology. “I’m so sorry! I had no idea! I thought he was just really good at cooking!” You stifled more laughter with a sip of your wine.

Mingyu shook his head. “It’s okay,” he replied. “I don’t really talk about it much,” he continued. “But I actually own a restaurant.” Amara’s eyes widened even more as she started apologizing again. “It’s okay!” Mingyu reassured her and you smiled fondly, watching your husband comfort the poor girl.

After eating, Finn headed out after you refused to let him do the dishes, telling him you and Mingyu had it covered. You headed back into the office to check your calendar and finish the rest of your paperwork while Mingyu and Amara worked on cleaning up the kitchen.

At about half past 7, you decided you were done with your office duties. Anything you didn’t finish today you could finish the day after Christmas. You stretched your arms, flexing your fingers before getting up and opening the door to see how Mingyu and Amara were getting on.

“Have you finished cleaning up,” you asked, peering into the kitchen to see your husband standing at the counter. He looked up, meeting your gaze. “Not yet,” Mingyu answered, lowering his gaze back down to the bowl of frosting on the counter. “I sent Amara home,” he added, glancing back up as you entered the kitchen, moving over to stand beside him and starting to collect the decorating tools.

“Her parents are hosting a party so I said we can manage,” Mingyu continued. “Hope that was okay,” he added and you nodded, looking up at him. “Of course,” you replied, looking back down as you gathered the icing bags and tips. “I don’t mind cleaning up the kitchen with my husband.”

Mingyu’s smile widened, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Besides,” you continued, dropping the tools in the hot soapy water and moving back to grab the silicone spatulas. “If she was here I couldn’t do this,” you added, swiping your finger over the spatula you just grabbed, the tip coated in white chocolate sauce. You turned to your husband, reaching up to spread the sauce on his cheek, letting out a giggle as you licked your finger clean.

Mingyu snorted, reaching a hand up to wipe up your mess but you stopped him, pulling his face to yours before licking the sweet confectionary off his skin. “Yah,” Mingyu whined as you pulled back and licked your lips. “I guess it’s a good thing I sent her home,” he continued.

“If she had seen that, I would have been very embarrassed.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to take the other silicone spatula, scooping some of the chocolate sauce on your finger. When Mingyu wasn’t paying attention, you dabbed some onto his face, smearing it near the corner of his mouth.

“Stop,” he chuckled, grabbing the spatula. “I’m gonna be all sticky.”

You snorted into a giggle as you fought your husband for dominance over the spatula. Mingyu took his chance to smear some chocolate sauce on your face, laughing when you stared at him in stunned silence. “Gotcha!” he chuckled. You pulled the spatula free and started to advance on him.

“No!” he squealed, running from you, his long legs helping him cross the kitchen quickly. You on the other hand were just fast, catching up to him and cornering him against the corner counters. “I was just returning the favor!” he whined as you wiggled your fingers, the tip of your index still covered in white chocolate.

“Here,” you said, holding out your hand. “Even the playing field.” You offered your finger with the chocolate sauce on it. Mingyu stared at the spatula in your hand, breathing a sigh of relief when you tossed it into the sink nearby. Mingyu took your hand, pulling it towards his face and sticking your finger in his mouth, cleaning the chocolate off your skin.

The action was one you’d done many times, letting him lick everything from whipped cream to cheese sauce from your finger. He was never one to turn down having your fingers in his mouth. The pent up frustration from the day pushed you to pull your hand from his mouth, grabbing the front of his smock and pulling him into a heated kiss, tasting the chocolate on his tongue.

You pulled back after a moment, your lungs burning and screaming for air. Mingyu turned your head, immediately licking off the frosting on your cheek slowly, taking his time to savor it. You let out a groan, feeling one of his hands wander down, fingers squeezing your ass.

“Your turn,” you whispered, your voice slightly hoarse as you tilted his hand and licked the frosting from his face, ending in a sloppy kiss that tasted like a mix of white and milk chocolate sauces.

“We should probably finish closing up,” you murmured as Mingyu pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah,” he replied breathlessly. “We probably should.”

Despite agreeing, neither one of you moved first until Mingyu’s hands wandered up, cupping your chest. “Or,” he offered, pulling back to look into your eyes. “We can finish off these sauces before we let the bowls soak.” You studied his face, looking into his eyes before coming to a conclusion.

“Okay,” you replied. “Go make sure the front door is locked,” you ordered.

Mingyu was off like a cannon, rushing to the storefront to make sure the door was locked, neon sign turned off before he returned to the kitchen as you were pulling out another steel bowl from the fridge and the leftover strawberries. You turned as he started to untie his apron.

“I figure we can eat some of this stuff with the leftover fruit,” you explained, showing him the bowl and the basket of strawberries. Mingyu flashed you a wide grin as you walked over to the counter and set your finds on the metal surface, moving to untie your apron.

You felt your husbands nimble fingers tug at the knots and help you remove the article. You turned, thanking him with a kiss before taking both yours and his aprons over to the hamper and tossing them in. You returned to Mingyu, hopping up onto the counter and picking up a strawberry. You dipped it into the chocolate and held it up for Mingyu.

He smirked, parting his lips and allowing you to push the chocolate covered fruit in his mouth. Mingyu dipped a piece of melon in the cream cheese frosting, holding it up for you to take it. You parted your lips slowly, keeping your gaze locked on his as you leaned forward, taking the fruit in your mouth.

You noticed the way your husband’s eye lingered on your lips, even after you pulled back with a grin.

The two of you continued to feed one another fruit and chocolate sauce. As you leaned back, holding yourself up with one of your hands, Mingyu leaned in, taking your lips in a measured kiss. Your lips parted and you felt his tongue along with chocolate sauce spill into your mouth.

“Come here,” Mingyu murmured, hands reaching up to undo the buttons on your chef smock, his lips meeting yours once more. Once he managed to undo the last button, he pushed the fabric aside, groaning as he buried his face into your chest, immediately kissing at your skin.

“This needs to come off,” he growled, pulling back just enough to undo the front closure on your bra and pull it off of you along with your smock. You groaned, back arching into his touch as you felt his mouth close around one of your nipples, tongue swirling around the bud.

You leaned back, one hand tangling in the mess of his black locks while the other supported your body. Mingyu pulled back, reaching over to grab a strawberry which he dipped in white chocolate sauce and promptly started to trail up your body from your navel. He smeared the sauce up your stomach and between your breasts, stopping to spread some over your nipple before holding the strawberry to your lips. You took it, moaning as his head ducked down to your stomach, licking up the path of the sauce.

Your thighs tightened around his waist as his tongue brushed over your nipple, taking it into his mouth to suck off the chocolate. Mingyu pulled back, moving back up to kiss you again, his hands fumbling with the ties on your pants. “What about you?” you whined. Mingyu chuckled as he pulled your pants down, thanking you when you lifted your hips to assist him.

“You’ll get your turn,” he murmured. “Lay down,” he instructed. You did as he asked, moaning as he kissed his way down your stomach, lips meeting the band of your panties. He stopped to glance up, meeting your gaze before he continued to kiss over the thin lace.

You moaned out his name, spreading your thighs wider as you felt his tongue press against you, only the black lace separating his tongue from where you wanted it the most. “F-ah! Fuck, baby,” you whimpered as you felt Mingyu leaned more into it, heat from his mouth spreading through your soaked panties.

“Just take them off, please!”

Mingyu pulled your panties down your legs, dropping them with the rest of your clothes. His head was back between your thighs quickly, tongue flicking rapidly against your clit as he held your thighs open. Your back arched off the counter, fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to push his head closer.

Mingyu groaned as you tugged on his hair, the sound vibrating against your cunt and sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. “Oh shit,” you gasped, eyes rolling shut as Mingyu licked and sucked at the sensitive bundle of nerves. The slurping sounds, coupled with your mewls and his groans against your pussy filled the room. It was so lewd and almost vile. You’d have to remember to sanitize and sterilize this station before opening back up on the 27th.

Mingyu’s fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs as he held your thighs open, tongue and lips messily moving against your cunt. “So good,” you breathed out, combing your fingers through his hair. You felt one of his hands slide up your body to grope at your chest, kneading gently as he continued to suckle.

“M’close,” you warned suddenly, feeling the tension in your body build, ready to snap at any moment. Instead of pulling away and letting you fall back from the edge, Mingyu drove you over it, tongue flicking in quick motions against your clit, groaning at the taste as you came, your juices flowing out of your pulsating hole.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck,” you groaned, fingers in Mingyu’s hair tightening as you held his head still, your hips moving of their own accord, grinding yourself on his tongue as you rode out your high. Mingyu pulled away much too soon for your liking and as you were about to protest, he pressed his lips against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth.

“Tastes so good, baby,” he groaned against your lips. “Tastes better than anything,” he murmured as he pulled back. “Y-your turn,” you stammered, trying to sit up but Mingyu held you down. “Later, angel,” he replied. “Let me just fuck you real good.”

You shook your head, pushing him back as you sat up. You made quick work of his shirt, tossing it aside as you turned your head to the chocolate sauce and dipped a piece of fruit into it, bringing it up to Mingyu’s lips before dipping a finger into the same sauce and smearing it across his chest and some down his stomach.

You slid from the counter, lowering yourself to lick the sauce from his skin. Mingyu let out a groan. You stood back up, grinning at him for a moment before grabbing the bowl of chocolate sauce and dropping to your knees. Mingyu watched as you undid the button on his jeans and pulled them down along with his underwear, almost groaning yourself as his cock sprang free.

He was fully erect, tip red and leaking as you let his pants and underwear pool at his ankles. You dipped your finger in the chocolate sauce and carefully spread it along the underside of his cock, licking your finger clean before grabbing the base of his shaft and lifting his cock.

Mingyu’s eyes fluttered shut as you licked a strip up his cock, cleaning the chocolate before swallowing. You then make sure to clean it all up before taking all of him in your mouth quickly. Your husband let out a groan, one hand moving to brace himself against the counter behind you while the other moved to the top of your head, stroking your hair gently.

“Fuck, that’s it baby,” he groaned, hips starting to move in tandem with the bobbing of your head. You let go of his cock, placing both hands on his thighs as you let him guide your movements. His cock hit the back of your throat, filling the room with a wet, lewd gagging sound. You pulled back, looking up at him.

Mingyu could have cum from the sight alone, you naked on your knees, looking up at him with glossy eyes, saliva starting to spill down your chin. “Fuck my face,” you gasped hoarsely. Mingyu didn’t need to hear it again, grabbing your head and guiding your lips to the tip of his cock.

He let out a moan as your head sank further, his cock gliding back into your mouth. He started slowly, giving a few measured thrusts before setting a steady pace, pumping in and out of your mouth. Each pull back, you allowed your tongue to swirl around the head of his cock until he stopped pulling out entirely. You gagged around him as he thrust into your mouth.

Your hands moved up to his hips, pulling him in as you tried to take all of his cock. “Oh fuck,” you heard him groan as the head of his cock slipped into your throat. You gagged around his cock, throat constricting as you tried to swallow. “Ah, shit!” he hissed. He pulled your head back, allowing air to fill your lungs again as his cock twitched.

Your hand moved back, fingers wrapping around him as you continued the momentum, stroking him quickly, spitting onto the head of his cock to add to the lubrication. “Fuck, fuck! Stop, baby!” He moaned, hand wrapping around your wrist. “I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop!”

You gave the head of his cock a light lick, giggling and looking up at him. Mingyu groaned at the sight and grabbed your wrist, tugging you up gently. “Up,” he ordered, helping you back up to the counter before he grabbed his cup of ice water.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, watching as he pulled the lid off and took a tip, tipping his head back. When he lowered the cup, he set it aside, leaving the lid off. In his teeth, he held an ice cube. He leaned forward, leaving open mouth kisses along your collar and chest with the ice cube gliding over your skin easily.

A chill went up your spine, nipples peaking as his mouth moved closer. You let out a gasp, feeling the icy liquid against the sensitive skin of your areolas. Mingyu swirled his tongue, allowing the melting ice cube to move around your nipple.

He pulled back, grabbing the cup and dumping more ice into his mouth. He kissed down your stomach, pushing you flat on your back as his head dipped between your thighs. You felt the ice against your clit and gasped loudly. His tongue toyed with your clit, the cold sensation contrasting with the heat radiating from between your legs.

Mingyu pulled back, swallowing down the ice. You sat up, grabbing his cup and dumped some ice into your mouth, pushing him back as you sucked on the cube. You lowered yourself, to your knees, fisting his cock before guiding the head back to your mouth.

Mingyu groaned out, pounding his hand against the metal counter as your cold mouth took more and more of his hot cock. You bobbed your head a few times, allowing the melting ice to rub along the underside of his cock.

“F-fuck,” he shivered. “Get up here,” he growled, pulling your head back and guiding you back to your feet. “On the counter.” You must not have moved fast enough for him because he turned you away, pushing you over the counter as he guided the head of his cock to your dripping entrance.

You felt him rub the tip around your slit, gathering your wetness and smearing it. You felt him rub his cock against you, rutting against your ass and dragging the underside of his shaft through your folds. “M’gonna fuck you so good,” you heard him groan, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance again before taking your hips in his hands and pushing in.

You mewled, your walls stretching to accommodate the head of his cock. He stilled for a moment, panting as he tried to hold back but the way you wiggled your hips made it harder and harder and soon, he was bracing himself, fingers tightening on your waist before plunging his cock into you with one thrust.

The sudden intrusion caused you to cry out in both pain and pleasure, the ache and sting of the stretch pairing with the pleasure of feeling him filling you raw with his thick cock. “Lift this,” he urged, grabbing the back of your thigh and guiding your leg up, knee bent as he pushed your chest against the steel.

“Stay just like that,” he groaned, moving his hand back to your waist. He thrust into you, pulling back only slightly before thrusting again, setting a steady rhythm. He looked down, watching his cock sink into your cunt repeatedly, groaning at the sight of your juices already coating his shaft.

“That’s right,” he scoffed when you moaned loudly, fingers curling into a fist as you tried to brace yourself against his thrusts. “Only I fuck you this good, don’t I?” he groaned. You moaned in response, back arching as his hips started to slap against your ass.

“You like it when I stuff you full of this cock, don’t you?” he asked. You nodded, head dropping as you lost yourself in the pleasure. “Y-yes!” you gasped out. “Love it when you fuck my tight pussy with your big cock, Mingyu!”

You were stroking his ego but then again, your husband had pretty good thrust and hip game when it came to sex. He always left you feeling more than satisfied. “That’s right,” he retorted. “You’re such a little slut for me.”

Your walls clenched around him before you started to push back to meet his thrusts. The sudden action had him doubling over your back with a deep groan. “Mm, fuck!” you growled. “Oh shit. I love it when you do that,” Mingyu gasped. “Love it when you fuck yourself on my cock. Keep going, baby.”

You felt him slow his movements but you kept the momentum going, fucking yourself back on his cock, gasping and moaning as the tip nudged your cervix with each thrust. “Oh fuck, yeah,” Mingyu moaned, hands moving to the counter on either side of you, holding him up.

“Keep going,” he continued. “Fuck yourself. Use me like your own person fuck toy,” he added. “Oh god, Mingyu!” you whimpered, thighs shaking as your ass hit Mingyu’s hips with each thrust. “Call me your dirty little fuck toy,” Mingyu pleaded, his voice becoming breathless as he met your movements.

“You think you can tell me what to do?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him. “You’re my fucking slut,” you growled back. “Begging me to fuck your cock like some kind of whore.” Mingyu’s cock twitched, a groan escaping him. He made no attempt to move his hands, content to let you move at your own pace for now.

“Good, look at you,” you continued. “Willing to let me use that thick cock to get myself off.”

“How pathetic.”

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu said quickly. “I’ll be good,” he added. “Just keep using me.”

You scoffed, turning your head to look back forward. “I want you to fuck me,” you retorted. “I want you to fuck me hard. Make me scream. Make my legs shake. Make it so I can’t stand tomorrow.”

You felt his hands on your hips. “You sure, angel?” you heard him whisper. You nodded. “Yes,” you replied. “Fuck me, Mingyu. Fuck me hard.” Mingyu didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing your hips hard as he slammed into you from behind, a gasp ripping from your throat.

He set a relentless pace, pounding into you from behind as he drove both of you towards orgasm. “Your cock is so big, Gyu,” you moaned, cheek pressed against the cool metallic surface. “Feels so good. Feel it so deep.” “God, yes, Gyu. Please,” you whined.

“Please give it to me. Give it all to me,” you continued, his cock starting to twitch rapidly, each drag of your walls raw against his cock sending him further and further towards the edge. “F-fuck!” he gasped. “M’gonna cum, baby,” he warned. “Where you want it baby?” Mingyu asked, glancing down at you.

“Inside me. Just cum inside me, Gyu. Fill me up with your cum.”

He groaned, leaning over your back and sinking his teeth into your shoulder, sucking against your skin as his hips slammed into you, his release washing over him. Thick ropes of cum spilled inside you, painting your walls in white.

Mingyu rode out both your highs, thrusting sloppily into you as he forced his cum further into you. When his hips finally came to a halt, he let out a breathy chuckle and pushed himself up, looking down at the indentation of his teeth in your shoulder. He pulled back to see where his cock disappeared inside you, the base of it coated in his cum.

He internally winced as he pulled out, both from the sudden change and from the sight of his cum spilling out of your abused cunt. He gathered some of it with his fingers, pushing it back into you. “Keep that in there,” he said playfully as he looked down at your pussy.

“We need to finish cleaning up,” he murmured, moving to grab a clean kitchen towel and wet it before wiping your thighs and sex clean. He helped you back into your clothes before pulling his own on. You cleaned up the rest of the leftover chocolate sauce and fruit, dumping the bowls into the soapy water that was surprisingly still hot.

Mingyu washed the dishes while you cleaned and sanitized the counter you’d defiled. Once the dishes were clean and you were certain the countertop was sterilized, you returned to his side, sighing as he pulled you into his warm embrace. “Can we go now?” he asked softly, tilting your head back so he could kiss you.

You smiled against his lips, pulling back to nod and answer him. “Yes. We’re done and we can finally leave.” Mingyu’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Perfect,” he responded, taking your hand and pressing it against his growing erection. “Again?” you asked incredulously. He nodded with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I’m not done with you just yet.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[whogirl42]

Op how dare you leave this in the tags

nah because wheres the au where after Crowley dies and Rowena gets monologued at not to bring him back Amara walks into hell one day with Crowley in tow complaining about how mean her brother's being and it's just Rowena on the throne staring at them like

[queermania]

it's vitally important to me that dean and cas were kind of together in s12. not in a big way. they hadn't talked about it. it just kind of happened in the early days of mary being back. cas was no longer possessed by lucifer. the angels were minding their business more or less. amara wasn't a problem anymore. sam was alive and mostly well. mary was alive and it was difficult and cas was the person dean would confide in and one night it just... kind of happened and they didn't really talk about it but besides a few awkward moments nothing really changed. and then it happened again. and again. and then dean got locked up in super solitary and cas killed billie and they had their little domestic and then dean got whammied by that witch and may or may not have hooked up with someone else and he felt guilty about it and then cas told dean he loved him (while dean was still feeling guilty) but then he walked it back and made it about everyone and that made dean feel worse and then the nephil arc began and cas was never around and they still hadn't talked about it and then cas ran off with kelly and dean was mad but still. still. it was cas and when he healed dean at the lakehouse it felt like it meant something but then cas died. and then there was jack. and then apocalypse world. and then michael. and then and then and then and eventually so much time had passed that they both just assumed the other one decided it wasn't worth it. and then the confession happens and dean is furious.

[scaly-freaks]

cherry wine stains 8.0

playing it a little differently and rewinding back to their school years but with an Aegon POV this time.

all previous parts in pinned.

"I like your knee-high socks."

"I like the chain you wear like a crucifix."

"Strange way to describe it."

"I don't know. It just - it hangs around your neck like the absence of something."

Her words dissolve like sugar into the cup of his mind.

Clever people don't realise the riptide of their soul is not being fed until they meet another clever person. Aegon's currents slow to a whispered crawl as his eyes trace Amara's profile, creating images in the tangle of her windswept curls.

She's left a lipstick print on his mother's favourite mug. When he sees it, his soul unhooks from where he keeps it folded away, right there at the base of his neck where the silver chain fastens.

Later, he'll kiss that print, see if the measure of his mouth is enough.

Helaena told him in private: You can't! You can't, you can't, you can't! You ruin everything!

The frantic protests of a younger sister who thinks - knows - that her older brother getting involved with one of her friends is going to end up in a loss for her. He's dated one of Helaena's friends before (it ended in the kind of operatic disaster you only ever see on Eastenders).

He does not want to date Amara as much as he wants to pry her open like a game of cat's cradle and weave apart the strings that keep her mobile. Half the time, Aegon suspects she isn't truly awake. Some part of her is drowning in slumber, deep as Briar Rose. He catches that moment sometimes, as she blinks at him with those sleepy eyes.

The texture of her thoughts - when she gives them up - slips like satin over his fingers.

"Do you want a smoke?" He flips the mint-green box in his palm and grins.

Her gaze is longing. "I told my mother I'd quit. Besides, aren't menthol cigarettes banned here?"

He shrugs, slipping one between his pinched lips to hold it steady. "Nothing's banned if you squint."

"Flawed logic," she laughs.

"She said to a drug dealer."

That makes her laugh harder. He likes making her laugh. Feels worthwhile somehow. Not much in his life feels that way these days.

The younger siblings are all growing up, leaving school, moving onto greener pastures, where the chaotic drudgery of the council estate turns into a crystalline vision in the rearview, something to put into personal statements and add what rich tossers would call flavour.

They don't need him like they used to. He and his mother have raised them to become self-sufficient and now Aegon has to figure out what he wants to do with himself because where the kids are going, they won't want to admit what their brother does - has done - for a living to ensure their survival. He predicts he'll be the family embarrassment every Christmas, the uncle that shows up drunk, with a sliver of something in his eyes that suggests he could have been something once.

He knows he won't end up that way. His need to be someone, get somewhere, is far too aggressive. But he does fear no longer being needed by the people who have relied on him so long he can no longer extricate himself from the identity of protector.

Maybe it's why he likes making Amara laugh.

She doesn't have siblings. Her eyes still dart around, nervous, as if aware her protection in this world is lacking compared to that of others. Her parents won't always be around. When they are gone, there won't be siblings to divide her grief up with. It'll just be her.

If his subconscious is turning her into his new surrogate sister, it doesn't reconcile well with the instinct that stirs when her skirt rides up an inch.

Alicent's stained glass lamp flickers, bulb on the brink of permanent death. Aegon reaches over to ensure it is screwed on properly and it affords them a last burst of weak light. Amara reaches out her hand under the dappled glow of its illumination, slipping her fingers under the violets, yellows and greens, as the crook of her elbow turns rose pink.

"I've always liked your mother's taste in furniture."

"Yeah? Take it. She wants to throw it out."

"No. If she's decided it's dead, it should go. I'll just be keeping the corpse if I took it."

Aegon's eyes wrinkle at the corners, smile disguised by the inhale of the cigarette. "It's not organic material. There's no corpse."

She glances at him, as if aware of his mockery despite the affection he delivers it with. "I think some inanimate objects come alive if they are loved enough. Alicent's had this lamp since I've known her. It's lived with her, and now it'll die. We shouldn't interrupt the process."

No wonder Helaena adores her.

They are both odd creatures, his little sister, and this intense, doll-eyed mirage that turned up at their doorstep one day, hungry for oven chips and love. She reached out her cold hands to Alicent, and found herself overwhelmed with the warmth and affection given in return.

He's known her so long, she should feel like a sibling.

What does it say about him if he can't stop wondering what it must feel like to graze his lips over her stomach and tongue that bellybutton ring she got in a short-lived fit of rebellion?

Aegon flicks aside the cigarette, mouth acidic with guilt.

He isn't the kind of person who wants. Other people want. Aegon goes out and gets. There isn't enough time to submerge in the feeling of want and understand the true depth of craving the human soul can achieve.

But he sees the whorl of soft hair at the nape of her neck and the feeling crawls up the rungs of his ribcage like a creature possessed. He pictures being small enough to curl up in the soft folds of her clothing, to soak in the scent of her until he passes out from exhaustion.

That feels like enough wanting for today.

"I'll see you downstairs, yeah?"

If she looks disappointed, it's just wishful thinking on his part. She knows he's not going anywhere. He'll be in the living room with the rest of the family who've put on Shrek and are split into two groups - the half that sings along, and the half that won't.

"I'll be down in a bit."

"Cool."

A sudden gust of wind lifts her hair, and the flimsy ribbon comes loose. He catches it before it finds freedom. She turns, expectant, waiting for the inevitable return of her almost-lost property. He pulls it between his fingers, wonders if it also carries life inside the woven thread, the way she claimed his mother's lamp does.

The weight of her hair rivals Isolde's.

Irish myths were a rooted part of his childhood, laced into Alicent's quiet voice every bed time. She swears the Hightowers are mostly, if not fully, Irish. But she could never be sure of how far back, or of the intricacies of any bloodlines. Rich people have the luxury of unfurling a family tree across the polished mahogany of their dining room table. They get to find their eyes, noses and mouths in the faces of people who lived too long ago to care what has become of their DNA.

Poor people make do with maybes and perhaps because most of the time, the lives of their ancestors are of no interest to anyone but themselves. Unless a mining forefather was crushed in a collapse and the resulting riots tore down a political establishment.

So, his mother pulled them back to times so ancient, the ancestors became common for all, their bloodlines too distant to maintain individuality.

If Tristan and Isolde are in Aegon's ancestry, that past life becomes tangible when he runs his fingers through Amara's hair and tames it into a braid he's practiced on Helaena a hundred times.

"There's something mythical about your hair," he says, and then cuts himself short because he deals drugs for a living, and whatever fancy thought this was about to be would make more sense from someone more booksmart.

She cranes her neck back and gives him the brightest upside-down smile. "That's the best compliment anyone's ever given me."

Aegon bites the inner corner of his lip and nudges her to look straight so he can keep braiding.

Once her eyes are off his face, it splits into a smile. Warmth drains down his spine like gold egg yolk poured from its shell. Once the braid is done, he rests his chin on the top of her head, and passes it off as brotherly with a goldfish-squeeze of her cheeks.

He lingers, inhales deep, smells her, turns her scent into binary code that he will decipher in isolation later.

"Don't be too long. You'll catch your death out here."

[smutcraft]

The Wager | Daemon Targaryen x Fem! Reader Smut

Following your gaze, Daemon chuckles. "Still not giving up, are we? An admirable quality in a whore," he taunts, stoking your competitive nature all the more. "Let's have it, then. You may try as long as you like. I’ve nowhere I’d rather be.”

Smut ahead! 18+

Prince Daemon, aka Lord Fleabottom, pays a visit to your pillow house with a strange proposition.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60466729

Words: ~5,000

Hear Daemon's parts from an AI Daemon Voice: https://www.tumblr.com/smutcraft/766798057547448320/daemon-targaryen-matt-smith-voice-ai-the-wager?source=share

This certainly isn’t the Lord of Fleabottom’s first visit to your brothel. The Magic Pillow is as good an establishment as any, with excellent dancers and musicians -- not that your clientele are there for music or dancing. No, what’s unusual about Daemon’s visit on this particular evening is the fact that he’s come calling while Mysaria is away.

Say what you will about the Targaryen prince, but he’s a creature of habit like any other man, and he rarely passes a night at the Magic Pillow without Mysaria. If not Mysaria, he tends to favor your pillow sisters with pale hair and skin like his -- like a Targaryen’s. You’ve grown accustomed to seeing the same three or four women with the prince in his finely tailored doublets, or in his armor as the Commander of the City Watch.

This evening you’re wearing a sheer gown that ripples along your body like a fountain of gold, the color coaxing another layer of warmth from your flat brown eyes. You’ve worn your hair in a simple plait that’s bound to come unraveled by morning, looking every bit the unruly Dornish woman you are. Amara Sunstar is your fitting name around the pillow house, inspired by the spiky scar on one of your hips.

As you adjust your jewelry and eye your prospects for the evening, you catch Daemon eyeing you with a curious look. Not long after, he saunters over to the brothel owner and leans in to speak privately into the man’s ear. Is it just your imagination, or does Daemon gesture in your direction with the slightest jerk of his chin before disappearing up the stairs? Moments later, the brothel owner hustles over to you with eyes wide as saucers.

“He’s sent for me?” you ask, confused. 

Lord Egen is equally perplexed. “Requested you specifically by name, Amara. And said there was ‘a "dragon's den of gold" in it for the Dornish woman, if she’s lucky.’"

You snort, making a show of being unimpressed, though the mention of so much gold has you thinking wistfully of all the things you could buy. Passage on a ship, for example…

"I'll see to the prince," you say, averting your eyes, as if the brothel owner could read your thoughts in them. "Where is he?"

"The round room," he replies, nodding upstairs. "Best get to it."

You smooth your hair and stop in your chambers to apply a light coating of powder and blush before making your way to the large turreted chamber that is the round room. Just before you enter to greet Prince Daemon, you take a deep breath and lift your shoulders back.

Daemon is lounging on the plush red cushions of the round room, idly toying with a tankard of ale as you enter the room. Never one for subtlety, tonight he wears a fine black doublet tailored closely to show off his arms. A dark cloak with fur trim lies discarded on the floor already. As you approach, his eyes rake over your body from the ground up, lingering on your toned arms and calves in particular. The pleased curve of his mouth suggests he has special plans for you as he gestures for you to join him, patting an empty cushion beside him. 

"Amara Sunscar," he says, his voice low and rich. “Thank you for joining me.”

"At your leisure, my prince," you say, settling herself beside him. You lean forward to pour yourself a small measure of wine, hoping to settle your nerves, but Daemon places a hand over the top of her cup to stop you. He lifts the cup away without a word of explanation, and you stifle a burst of irritation at his presumptuousness.

"I would like to know," he says smoothly, still offering no explanation for your forced sobriety, "what brings a Dornish beauty such as yourself to King's Landing. I hear you were banished from the brothels in your motherland?"

You swallow another gust of irritation. "I was," you say between grit teeth. 

Daemon's eyes dance with keen interest. "Care to explain?”

You sigh, wary of spreading the tale any farther than it already has. "A useless drunk with no coin forced me to defend myself. Unfortunately, I defended myself...too well." Though this was years ago, when you were just learning the skin trade, you can still picture the dead man's torrent of blood spilling from his neck.

Daemon, strange man that he is, doesn't look put off by your admission. Rather, he looks more keen than ever. 

"Banished for ridding the world of another useless louse,” he muses. “I find that to be a rather backwards rule." He considers you more closely now. "And what would you do differently, given a second chance?”

You answer honestly, sensing Daemon will see through any attempt at subterfuge. "I would have slit his neck from the front, so I could see his expression."

Daemon grins, a feral expression that says he might just like you for your candor. "Ah, but I can think of a better weapon for a Dornish viper such as yourself." 

He rises from his spot on the cushion and moves to the corner to retrieve his Valyrian longsword.

Of course the brothel owner has made an exception for Damon to bring a weapon into the inner chambers, you think to yourself as Daemon retrieves his longsword. The black metal glints under the candlelight as he presents it to you, hilt first. 

"Dark Sister," you say, surprising even yourself by knowing the name.

"You know your history," Daemon comments with approval. "Yes, this is Dark Sister. A sword crafted for the likes of a legendary woman." 

He gestures for you to take it, watching intently as you accept. You're no Queen Visenya, of course, but an undeniable thrill runs through you as you lift the sword by the hilt. 

"Go on, then. Show me what you know," he encourages, leaning back against the wall to watch. Your admiration of this fine blade must be clear to Daemon; his look of pride is almost unbearable.

You grip the sword more firmly, lifting it as if in challenge. You move the blade through some simple movements, the cold metal slicing through the air in a way that's surprisingly... pleasant. All the while, Daemon observes you with mounting intensity. When you finish in a fighting stance, your arms sore from wielding the heavy blade, Daemon gives you a slow, showy round of applause.

"A formidable opponent," he says as you reluctantly return Dark Sister to him to sheathe and set aside. "Tell me, how does a common whore come to know her way around a longsword?"

The insult is nothing you haven't heard before, but it stings for being so unexpected.

"I was borne into a family of blacksmiths before our village was set to the torch," you spit at him. "And how does the prince of the seven kingdoms come to shed his highborn manners so quickly?"

Daemon chuckles with an expression as sharp and calculating as a wolf's. He says nothing in reply to your retort, merely looking pleased with himself as his attention shifts to the tone of your upper arms. Slowly, lazily, he seats himself at a low table.

“I see you are not one to shy away from a challenge,” he says. "So let us have another. You say you would have enjoyed watching your target’s expression as you defeated him -- let us see if you can bring a Targaryen to wince in defeat." With that, his hand falls open in a clear invitation to arm-wrestle.

You consider Daemon with a slight frown. You've received your fair share of unusual requests from patrons, of course, but this is not one you've ever been presented with before. "If I win?" you demand.

"If you can best me, you will leave this room with a small fortune and my sincerest admiration, Amara Sunscar."

Your mind resolved, you take a seat and roll up the sheer sleeve of your golden robe. "I accept," you declare. "I will show the prince how Dornish steel is forged."

Daemon chuckles at that. "By all means," he says, rolling his own sleeve with mischief in his violet eyes.

Your hands grip one another tightly. Despite your bravado, the solid lock of Daemon's non-dominant hand does nothing to assure you of your chances of winning. Not to mention that his pale forearm outsizes your darker one by a healthy margin. You shake your head, focusing on keeping a steady grip as you count down aloud from three to one.

Daemon's smirk is unwavering, even as the countdown concludes and the game begins in earnest. To your fury, he eases back in his seat and allows his gaze to wander down the bodice of your gown. He looks wholly unconcerned with the outcome of your game, even as you throw all of the strength you can muster into your right arm with sweat beginning to bead your brow. Your wishful thinking of the prize money begins to chafe as the seconds wear on.

All the while Daemon’s arm is unwavering, statue-like, with a fire burning brightly behind his unusual violet eyes. The prince's expression, as always, remains a mask of composure. His eyes flick up to meet yours with an almost teasing gleam. "Do you tire, Amara?"

You do, and greatly, not that you'll give him the pleasure of admitting as much. You merely shake your head, unwilling to let him hear the strain in your voice.

As a full minute ticks by, Daemon seems to sense your determination. His grip tightens, and for a moment you wonder if you've bitten off more than you can chew. The prince's expression remains unreadable as his gaze returns to your face, drinking in the obvious strain on your brow. "You are a fierce little creature, aren't you,” he marvels.

You grit your teeth at his teasing. The longer the arm wrestle goes on, the more the muscles in your arm begin to twinge and ache. 

"Perhaps we ought to renegotiate the stakes?" Daemon offers with a crooked smile, his eyes sparkling. "A small concession in return for an easier victory."

"What have you in mind?" you ask, fighting to keep from panting. 

"A kiss.”

You snort but hesitate, knowing you can't possibly hold on much longer.

"One embrace," he says, leaning in, "And you will have your prize."

You almost roll your eyes, but the fact that the prince is letting you keep the 'small fortune' regardless of losing toes you in line.

"An agreeable compromise," you say between grit teeth. "I'll let you keep your dignity, my prince."

As soon as the mutual embrace of your hands slackens, Daemon’s hand lunges forward to grip your thick plait of hair.

The table topples as he rushes you forward, pinning you to the wall with his lips as much as his grip. It's such a far cry from the smug press of his lips you were anticipating that you squirm in panic, kicking at whatever parts of Daemon you can reach. 

"Now, now, no need for such resistance," he chastises after breaking the kiss - if you can call such an ambush a kiss at all. Just as quickly, he releases you. "You have spirit, that much is clear." He leans closer, the heat from his body almost palpable as he whispers, "I can think of ways to use such spirit."

"I believe you owe me a prize already, my prince," you say hotly. 

Daemon's lips twitch in amusement. "Very well." He reaches into a pouch at his side, tossing it to you with a regretful smile. "For you, my Dornish viper."

You force yourself not to gape as you count the generous sum. "I did not realize men would pay so handsomely to touch my hand alone," you jest. 

"And what a lovely hand it is," Daemon says lightly, impatiently. "Tell me, Amara Sunscar, will you accept one final wager?"

You hesitate, unsure of what the prince could possibly challenge you to next. "I will hear your terms," you say at last.

Daemon smiles, pleased. "The terms are these. I shall leave this room and wait outside for one minute's time. When I open this door again, you will try to slip past me and escape this chamber by any means necessary. If you can manage that, you won't need to take another man to bed so long as you're alive. Should you fail, you shall be rewarded handsomely, but not extravagantly. Do you understand?"

You swallow, your throat tight. You can do this, you tell yourself - it's not an impossible task, considering that you are much lighter and faster on your feet. To Daemon, you repeat quizzically, "By any means necessary?"

Daemon smiles more deeply, seeing you puzzle out the possibilities in your head. "Any at all," he confirms. "I leave even Dark Sister at your disposal."

And with that, he strides from the room, the heavy door closing behind him. You're alone in the round chamber, the fire still crackling warmly on the hearth. And time is ticking.

Your first thought is to hide. The round room has few hiding places: under the bed, behind the door, and behind a floor-length tapestry. But something tells you that Daemon has not survived so many battles by being clueless enough to waltz right past his mark, and hiding under the bed would leave you precious little room to move. Quickly, you dart behind the tapestry, hoping Daemon will think to look under the bed first. As he does, you might be able to bound over the bed and reach the door in time…

While you consider your next move, the door flings wide. A delicious tension hangs in the air as Prince Daemon steps inside with lithe movements, moving as though he anticipates an immediate attack. Finding none, he grins, and you could swear he looks more pleased than ever.

His gaze sweeps the room with practiced precision. You can practically see his clever mind at work as he assesses your potential hiding spots, honing in on the bed as you brace yourself behind the tapestry.

"Dear Amara," he calls out playfully, "I fear you cannot hide for long."

You watch as Daemon turns a slow circle, looking completely unbothered at the prospect of losing enough coin to make your head spin. His careful steps about the room suggest that everything before this moment has been a prelude to what the prince really wants: this cat-and-mouse game between the two of you.

"Where are you, my Dornish viper?" he calls, his voice thick with lust. "I see you’ve not armed yourself with Dark Sister. Does this mean you plan to outfox me?"

You watch with your heart in your throat as the prince kneels to lift the bedskirt. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, you spring from behind the tapestry and attempt to leap over the bed and out the door to victory.

Unfortunately for you, Daemon is much faster than you'd anticipated. In an instant he's snagged you by the waist and lifted you, trapped, within his unyielding arms. "Not today," he says, his voice low and heavy with triumph. 

Disappointment and rage courses through you at being restrained so easily. But it's the thought of that "dragon's den of gold" slipping between your fingers that drives your next desperate bid for escape: You seize upon a nearby candelabra and swing it forcefully into Daemon's chest. 

Daemon's hold on you falters at the impact, and you tumble to the floor with a curse. But as you scramble back to your feet, ready to make another run for it, you freeze in place at his low laugh. "A dragon does not fear fire, foolish girl." 

You ignore the prince's taunting to crouch low, mentally planning your escape, but Daemon mirrors you in every direction you look to, his hands outstretched, a lustful glint in his eyes. 

Clearly, he's relishing the chase. And though you're faster on your feet, you can't seem to outmaneuver him.

"Come now, Amara," he purrs, "What will you try next?"

Your answer is to fake right and break left, toward Dark Sister. Not that you have any intention of maiming the prince, but if you can put the longsword between you and Daemon, you just might be able to -

But Daemon sweeps your feet out from under you, catching you yet again like a babe fallen from a tree, before his lips collide hungrily with yours. Despite the distraction, his hold on you never wavers as you attempt to squirm free. 

"I have you now," Daemon whispers along your jaw. He seizes one of your hands in his and brings it to the front of his breeches, showing you how strained the fabric has become, how painfully erect he must be.

Inspiration strikes a second time as you reach lower, to make a squeeze at his more vulnerable parts.

Daemon drops you with a shout. You’ve barely hit the floor before you're scrambling upright, breaking for the door as though the room were on fire. But Daemon is already hot on your trail, and your stomach sinks as his arms seize you by the waist for a third time. Only now, instead of clutching you to him, he turns and throws you forcefully to the bed. 

"Crafty little viper," Daemon snaps, the words rough with both anger and arousal. As you watch, Daemon tears away his doublet, leaving an expanse of bare-chested skin that you're suddenly dying to nip and bite at. Instead, you look to the door behind him, your nature not allowing you to give up even now. 

Following your gaze, Daemon chuckles. "Still not giving up, are we? An admirable quality in a whore," he taunts, stoking your competitive nature all the more. "Let's have it, then. You may try as long as you like. I’ve nowhere I’d rather be.”

Soon enough you've lost count of how many flight attempts you've made, only to have the bare-chested prince seize you by the middle like some disobedient animal and return you to the bed. His fingers dig into your skin, his touch firm but not painful as he wrestles you into submission, over and over. Each time he returns you to the bed, he returns to the same stance in the middle of the room, his hands clasped behind him and his eyes pointed to his feet.

As time bleeds together, your defiance starts to fade. Perhaps it's the way his eyes glint with a hunger that's become harder to resist with your every failed attempt to escape. Perhaps it's the way he looms over you like a stormcloud, and all you want is to be the lightning that cracks through him. Or maybe it's just the realization that you're sore and tired and still no closer to that dragon's den of gold.

Either way, you find yourself squirming beneath Daemon's grasp, no longer out of desperation to flee, but an entirely new source of heat building inside of you.

Daemon's lips quirk in satisfaction as he senses the shift of defeat in your body and spirit. He bends low, his breath hot on your ear as he murmurs, "Good girl. At last you understand."

He brings a hand to the edge of your bodice. With a swift tug, the laces are loosened enough that he can pull the gown off one shoulder to reveal a swath of creamy skin.

Teeth graze your neck, nipping gently. "You're mine," he repeats, as if claiming you. His lips trail down to the hollow of your throat, the stubble on his chin scratching pleasantly against the tender flesh.

As his hand drifts, his fingers brushing lines along your collarbones, he looks up at you like a lion on the brink of supping at last. "Are you going to deny that any longer?"

The stare he fixes you with in that moment is what does you in. 

"No," you answer, almost too softly to be heard.

Daemon smiles, the wickedness in his eyes clear as day. He claims your lips in a savage kiss that leaves you gasping when he finally tears you away by a fistful of your hair.

"Good girl. Then let's begin," he murmurs, and he pushes the bodice off your other shoulder, tossing it to the floor. He traces your curves with his fingertips, dipping beneath your chemise to cup one of your breasts.

You whimper under the long-awaited grip feel of him, a sound so raw and unguarded that it seems to spur Daemon on. His lips make an eager path down your torso, nibbling and sucking at your skin as he goes, until he reaches the juncture between your thighs.

Daemon wastes no time burying his face there, lapping at your folds. You cry out, your fingers digging into the sheets as you arch your back, offering yourself fully to his whims. His touch only intensifies from there.

You hiss and writhe with pleasure as Daemon works at your core, lapping at your wetness with an urgency that borders on madness.

The Prince of the seven kingdoms looks like a man possessed as he forces your thighs farther apart. His tongue lashes and lathes between your legs as Daemon learns how to coax his favorite sounds out of you, his hands brusquely forcing you flat against the bed each time your hips start to lift of their own accord.

You gasp as Daemon works at your clit next, alternating between a gentle suckling and a slow pattern with the tip of his tongue that quickly has you feeling light headed. He chuckles into you as you grip at his long silver hair, your need palpable and rising still higher every second.

You sense Daemon’s own need building, the scent of your arousal and the sound of your moans driving him onward. His tongue plunges deep inside you, flicking against your entrance as his fingers pinch at your clit with just enough pressure to send shocks through your body.

Soon enough you're quaking on the verge of orgasm, panting as if you’ve run a marathon.

Daemon smiles into the damp curls between your legs before he rises to his feet without granting your release. "Patience, Amara," he admonishes.

But patience is not a gift you possess, and the state Daemon’s left you in drives you to pounce instead, driving him back into the mattress as you snake your legs and arms around his. Daemon’s reaction is immediate but surprising: at first he obliges with a groan, his head lolling slightly backward, his gaze surprisingly tender. But this effect doesn’t last long. You soon find yourself grappling with Daemon, enjoying the battle of wills -- not to mention the opportunity to exercise your strength to the fullest, to exert yourself in this way you’d nearly forgotten.

Your exertions don’t last long, for Daemon pins you to the bed once again and lords over you like the smug highborn dragonrider that he is. "My little viper is insatiable. But I suppose that's why she’s irresistible, as well.”

With those words, Daemon settles himself between your legs. His thick shaft nudges against your entrance, and you can feel the heat radiating off him. He grinds against you, teasing the wet opening with just the tip of his cock. "Ready for me?" he asks lazily.

Through your haze of lust, another wicked idea occurs to you. 

"Wait," you whisper, pushing your hands against his chest. Daemon obliges, easing his weight from you with a quizzical smile. As he does, you guide him into a new position, settling him behind you while you face the door on all fours. 

Daemon's eyes flash as he understands what you want from him, seizing you by the hip with one hand and seeking your wet core with the other. He doesn’t wait for an invitation this time, but pushes inside you slowly, stretching you open to accommodate him. 

Once he's buried to the hilt, Daemon seizes you by both hips and pulls you slowly back against him. He drives into you a second time, then a third, until he seems to forget the world around you both and begins to take you in earnest.

"Daemon," you groan as the prince bottoms out within you over and over. At the sound of his name in your mouth, he gives a beastly groan and drives into you with a primal greed that leaves you breathless. Delicious as it is, you are distracted…and with good cause.

You decide to help the prince along using your usual tricks. You arrange a pillow beneath you and grip the base of Daemon's cock with one hand, adding a pressure that has him groaning louder than ever before. 

"Are you going to spend inside me, Daemon?" you croon. "Or spill your princely seed on my  ass? I've not had a chance to ask Mysaria which you prefer..."

You're pleased to hear another feral grunt at your words.

"Keep talking like that and I'll forget every whore I’ve ever lain with," Daemon pants as you work him, your hand squeezing his cock in time with your hips rolling with each thrust. His own hand comes to rest on your lower back.

You wait for his grunts to pick up before forcing his hands to his sides, using the force of your own hips to impale yourself upon him over and over.

Daemon's breath hitches at your boldness. "Damn you, woman," he curses. "Are you trying to drive me mad?"

You answer by turning your head to fix him with a coy smile that you hope will urge him ever closer to the end.

"Cum now," you order. "Make a mess of my cunt or ass, I care not, only do it now."

Daemon's breathy chuckle at your insolence quickly becomes the sound you were hoping to hear: the faltering grunts of a man's pleasure about to reach its mark.

It's then that you spring into action, using your hands to springboard from the bed and onto the ground, adrenaline leaping along with you as you make for the door.

But as you scramble for the door, you make the fatal mistake of looking back.

Daemon's face is wild in the aftermath of his ruined orgasm, thanks to you. The shock of your flight -- your final, most clever escape attempt -- strikes him plainly, like a slap to the face. That quickly, his look of surprised irritation elapses into rage, and the snarl from Daemon’s chest is filled with rage as he comes charging after you. 

You have the door open now, you can hear the sound of the musicians from below --

But Daemon comes up fast upon you, his fist forcing the heavy oak door closed again mere inches from your nose.

His other hand shoots out to grab your throat, an iron grip that keeps your back pinned against his chest.

"Silly slut. You think you can toy with your prince so shamelessly and get away with it?" he hisses in your ear. His hand around your throat squeezes even tighter as he speaks, digging tightly enough to steal your breath.

As the room spins, you register being forced back onto all fours, this time onto the chamber’s bearskin in the center of the room. And this time with Daemon in front of you, not behind.

He slaps the head of his swollen cock against your lips until you part them. After that, there is no tenderness as he claims your throat, his every thrust a punishing one. You hear Daemon’s anger in each seething breath through his nose. And yet, even with his hand still gripped tight around your throat, you can’t deny it - you like it this way. Daemon thrusting into you relentlessly, his pale hips pistoning into your face with the force of revenge as much as lust.

"You’ve lost, little viper,” he growls. “My sneaking Dornish whore.”

You can barely hear him through the whirling between your ears and the pain around your throat, and still you can't help moaning weakly. It's an odd combination: fear and pleasure, humiliation and ecstasy.

You never want it to stop.

With a triumphant smirk, he releases you, allowing you to fall back and draw breath. 

“Daemon,” you sputter, air filling your lungs, the simple pleasure of it flooding through you. 

Daemon watches your reaction with a mix of satisfaction and contempt. As you watch, he kneels to the ground to retrieve his belt, which he cinches around your naked waist like reins. 

Your head falls back as he positions himself behind you once more.

He thrusts into you from behind again, this time without mercy, his movements brutal, as if each slam against your hips is another slap at your pride.

"Now," he breathes in your ear, "You will beg."

"I won't," you hiss. Even now, you can't resist stoking his anger further, curious to see how far you can push the Rogue Prince.

Daemon chuckles darkly at your defiance. He slams into you, his thrusts more forceful than before. Your body is a perfect fit for him, taking every inch without hesitation. He tightens his grip around the belt, making you feel more than ever like a vessel for his enjoyment and amusement.

“You will.”

Overcome with need, you press your eager fingers against your cunt and turn your head to beg Daemon with your eyes instead, hoping to maintain the last traces of your dignity.

"Beg, Amara," Daemon orders again, clearly losing patience, his eyes never leaving yours. Just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of desperation, of the most carnal need, he stops, pulling away in silence.

The longer he leaves you teetering, the more your desperation mounts. It's not until your voice cracks do you give in, and the words leave on a sob.

"Please, Daemon," you manage, your face flushed from need and shame. "Let me.”

“Let you what?”

“Let me cum,” you say without meeting his gaze.

He smirks at your submission, his eyes glittering with satisfaction as he slides back inside of you. Daemon's cock fills you again, the return like a promise made good. He grips your hair and starts to pump into you, the pace faster, the angle sharper, each thrust more intense than the last. His pace is relentless, driving into you without mercy, taking your body with the same ferocity that he's taken everything else in his life.

You can hear your own cries mingling with the sound of flesh meeting flesh, and it's only a matter of time before you approach your edge again, trembling under his unforgiving thrusts.

When you do, you can no longer contain yourself, your pleas for release tumbling out of your mouth. "Please, Daemon, please, let me come."

"With me,” he growls, the command unmistakable. He doesn't slow down, only continues to drive into you with a fervor that makes it clear he's determined to take you both over the edge at the same time.

As the wave of ecstasy builds within you, so does Daemon's own need. He thrusts more wildly than ever, his hand reaching out once more to seize you by the throat, that tight hold that both terrifies and delights you.

“I have you,” Daemon snarls again. “Did you truly think you could get away from me? That anything in the seven kingdoms could keep me from claiming this sweet, perfect cunt of yours?”

Sensing Daemon about to come undone, you look back to relish the prince's expression and see his face set in a grimace of wild pleasure that mirrors your own. Whereas Daemon looks more like a ferocious beast bearing down on its prey, however, you feel more like the prey on the brink of reaching safe haven. 

The moment he reaches his release, a twin spark ignites inside of you as well. You cry out as your long awaited orgasm rips through you, and Daemon’s along with it. As your shuddering stops, he pulls out to spend along your back; you can feel the warm traces of it against your skin. 

As he collapses next to you on the bed, Daemon's chest rises and falls in deep lungfuls. Sweat glistens on both of your skin. You're spent, utterly drained, but satisfaction hums through your veins in a way it rarely does with paying customers.

“Well played, my prince,” you say after a minute of blissfully exerted breathing. 

“To you as well,” he replies with his eyes closed. 

You might sulk if you weren’t so spent. You’ve lost the wager, after all; now the prince will pay you “handsomely but not extravagantly” for your troubles. You let your eyes fall closed as well, exhaustion threatening to overtake you, but you open your eyes again as Daemon runs a callused finger along your collarbone.

“You indulged my game admirably, little viper. And I do so love a challenge.”

You smile ruefully. “So long as this is your game, you’re unlikely to find a better challenge than I.”

He pauses at your words, as if considering. “Your fierceness is certainly unrivaled. Or your greed, perhaps…”

You say nothing.

“You may keep the whole of your prize money, then,” he murmurs. “Ten gold dragons, all yours. On one condition.”

You swallow nervously, wondering what else the prince could possibly ask of you. “Yes?”

He leaves you in suspense as he gathers his discarded breeches and doublet from the floor. Only when he’s fully dressed does he pause in the doorway to wink back at you. “That we play it again soon.”

[theriverbeyond]

#SPOILERS

ok so I watched arcane s2 act 1 and my immediate reaction is mostly mixed -- I think there was gorgeous art and strong individual emotional beats but I think it all got watered down by everything else -- I did LIKE it, I guess (?) and am reserving full judgement for the whole season until the next 2 acts release, but yeah.

warning for SPOILERS and also critiques below:

the deluge of new characters I have no reason to care about, and whom i am given no specific reason to care about (besides the itty bitty one, and that's just bc they are a child) does not hit. I dojt get it. why are these people special or chosen for the strike squad. they're just randos, and fangirls and one of them is a random dude you all seem to have grabbed off the street (?) also who tf is amara. was she even in season 1 at all?

the integrated music videos felt significantly LESS integrated this season than the last. last season it felt like the "music video" segments were just like.... really well done and stylized parts of the show, here they feel more like clipshows or standalone music videos during which the actual show takes a pause. some of them do advance the plot and all are gorgeously done but like, I dunno. feels a bit much, honestly, especially in a show that NEEDS to be incredibly economical with its time

relating to that, it feels as if nothing really happened at all besides setup, and I guess that was perhaps narratively necessary, but using THREE episodes of a 9 episode season to set up the plot feels..... REALLY wasteful, especially when i feel like those 3 episodes didnt have a tight plot OR tight character focus. everything feels very loose. the timeskip between s1 and s2 is like.... idk! why did we skip that. why didnt we just skip farther. how is Vi suddenly beloved by topside those bitches hate her!!! anyway. there is a lot happening and a lot being set up and, as i said before, a LOT of new characters being introduced and I'm not very emotionally invested in most of them. The differences between act 1 s1 and act 1 s2 are feeling incredibly stark right now.

To me, Arcane has always been a character driven work, so I can forgive it of plot issues if the emotional focus and character arcs are strong. I.... didn't feel that here! and even the big character moments didn't quite hit. for me. like ok CaitVi kissed. but like. they've known each other for a week? Why are they acting married? The most resonant and emotionally intense part of the CaitVi arc in act 1 was when Caitlyn HIT HER with HER GUN, in a way that felt deeply reminiscent of how encorcers probably hit Vi when she was in prison. And that was like at the very end. sorry but the kiss just did not hit for me. sorry. so sorry. you can kill me with Hammers if yuo want to

A lot of characters seem to be making plot centric decisions that simply do not feel within their character. Vi becoming an enforcer -- I literally do not care about the game, it is emotionally inconceivable for show!Vi to do be super down with gassing the undercity. Jinx and Sevika suddenly being buddy buddy is weird, even thought i LIKE it, it just feels.... fast. Jinx's arc, emotionally, feels the best and most consistant, and I feel like there's so much setup happening it isn't given the space it needs to breathe. Caitlyn becoming a facist is like.... fine, I guess. I really like the emotional conflict this inserts to the story but again it just feels inconsistant with her lifelong characterization as someone who is out of place on the force. also didn't she actually get fired lol. why is there a Kiramann supercomputer.

a lot of stuff just feels emotionally really off. Cait going wild with anger in her grief is fine, but then it feels.... bad that the redhead bitch who's CHILD Jace KILLED last season is a villian for wanting revenge also? maybe this is just an inherent weakness of the genre. or the source material. or whatever. i mean season 1 was pretty enforcer-critical at least in the first 2 acts. sorry for wanting a story made by people with money to be consistant in its negative framing of cops :/

l am deeply confused about the Noxian angle here -- I think it serves a meta narrative function of giving Topside and Bottom (aka, all the characters we care about, who hate each other rn) a common enemy to rally against, but there is just. a lot going on, honestly. too much? only time will tell. this all makes me deeply concerned/curious about the governmental system of Piltover though. why is Caitlyn like the town King now. why are they not electing new councilors.

don't even get me started on viktor being undercity jesus

Anyway. things I liked: the opening, especially its contrast to season 1. Jinx & Vi's fistfight was incredible I just wish Vi felt more emotionally consistant BEFORE it happened. I really LIKE jinx being given essentially a second chance in the form of saving and caring for a child in a situation that puts HER in a reversed position from her youth. like OK it definitely feels way out of left field but like, that's fine I guess. I like what they're doing with the kid. the art is gorgeous as always. I love how the enforcer squad is represented like hunting hounds, coming out of the gas. unfortunately i think their gas masks are wildly erotic. anyway. what was i saying?

that's my immediate thoughts. I'm definitely open for comments/explaining, but i really don't like the "it makes sense if you play the game/pay attention to LoL meta" kind of explanations I see thrown around -- it's a narrative weakness to be relying on viewers to know LoL lore, especially on the heels of season 1, which didn't need viewers to know anything.

[deadpool15]

O really ?

"F-fuck, wait." I stutter out, trying to rub away from the overwhelming pleasure. I am sitting on the couch of the 1 million room, trying to cover my screams. "It's t-to much p-please. I'm sorry I'll be good." I try to get out though the words seem to be nothing but mumbling in a room full of moans. "You move again. I'll gonna make sure I spank that ass raw. Now, be quiet unless you want everyone hear to know how much of a slut you are for me." "I stare down at her sitting there in between my legs with the bottom half of her mouth soaked with my juices. I didn't even know I could get this wet. At this point, I'm willing to do anything to please her. "For y-you all for you." She smirks, coming up for a second with her finger still working on my insides, "yea, only for me, glad you finally remembered baby." I sit there in a daze trying to remember how I got here.

If you were wondering how I ended up in this position, we would have to backtrack a bit. Going back to when we were being called down to the fight zone. I was so excited holding hands with Kristen. We had both been a part of the royal family for a while, and when we heard about this opportunity, we were ecstatic. It was a Korean dance TV program, though, so I can say that unlike the rest of my team, I generally didn't expect us to win, well, the show that is. Though that didn't mean we would go easy and let people make a mockery of us. Never know what the future holds. This would be an experience.

I had learned that a certain someone would be here. By that, I entirely mean my wife Lia Kim. We had just recently got engaged 2 months ago, and even though we weren't officially married yet, Lia always referred to me as her wife. When she told me she was invited to bring her crew to SWF2, I questioned it as first, I mean, my girl had the qualifications to be a judge, but just my opinion. Though, I didn't tell her about Jam Republic being on the team, and she wouldn't know until we got there. I had a feeling she would be surprised and slightly angry at the same time.

We walked down the stairs amazed by the architecture of this place. "This is it girls we are here, so chin up and let the confidence run through you. We shall not be caught lacking." I told them, as I smiled and saw Kristen make a gesture for us to keep walking. We finally made it down, stepping into the center of the fight zone. Allowing everyone to get a good look at us. Making their little side remarks and comments. Until we heard the screen come on giving us our team evaluation. We stood there listening to all the absolute bullshit they were saying, I was already pissied with them called Kristen, a backup for Paris and Audrey, just a pretty face. What made me even more pissed was that my fiance said it with that irritating smirk on her face that I usually would love. Not this time. I then heard the comments about me.

Biggy - Didn't Amara create the choreography for Rihanna superbowl?

Halo - If there is anyone I have respect for, Amara, she started out in underground street battles. She managed to even become better than her teacher.

Lusher- It feels like she has lived multiple lives you know, like she has done so much for her age.

Redlic- She is nicknamed Hybe's princess with her being the main choreographer for them. She has created majority of there dances, I wanna see if it's true.

I smirk hearing that comment.

Lia- Jam Republic will be the first to go home, I don't see anything special.

Mina- She has amazing skills and good energy, and it looks like she is special. I'll give you that.

And just like that found my target, one thing about my wife is her ego is fucking huge. She will do anything and everything to prove she is the best. You see, I knew about her issue, and will Mina. So why not play into that? Besides, she literally said Jam Republic will be the first to go home. So payback is about to be a bitch. We sat, and the entire time, I could feel someone's eyes locked on me. I knew exactly who it was, so I leaned closer to Kristen, grabbing her arm and having us basically be hugging at this point. At first, Kristen looked at me a little confused. Now she is a touchy person and didn't mind, but she was trying to figure out why suddenly. Until she looked over and saw Lia glaring at us. Then she smiled, turning to look at me before whispering in my ear, "it seems your girl is quite possessive, huh?" I just smile laughing and nodding.

Now, to any other person, that reaction wasn't weird or considered flirting, but to Lia, it meant war. Eventually, we are told about the no-respect battles. "This will be sp fun." I tell my team while Ling sat there telling us how she is so down to battle. We all go in our respective rooms to change. While I'm on the way to the room, I could see Lia gesturing for us to talk, but I paid no mind. This is a competition, and I'm mad at her right now. We walk in and immediately start changing. I go put on my grey little tank with no bra and some baggy jeans with my thong slightly showing. Might as well leave in impression, Korean strict ass dress code and overall high ass morals be dammed.

We all make it back to the fight zone, and the battles start rolling in. I am simply sporting two stickers, waiting for my name to be called. Crazy how Kristen is a much better battler than me, yet no one thought of that because they were too busy calling her Paris number 2. Well, they will see. Every since I got down here, Lia couldn't take her eyes off me, though it seems neither could Mina. Well, this will be fun. After a while of battles, Kristen is called up with her picking Waackxxxy. I move to the sideline to get a better view of the battle and hype her up. Doing a little more than necessary to pisd off you know who. Then, when Kristen takes the win, I run up and hug her. Finally, I'm glad everyone can see her in her element.

More battles continue until I'm called by Mina. Of course, why didn't I gather she was gonna call me? That makes sense. I walk to the center, hearing Daniel ask for any words before the battle. "I just wanna share the stage with this beautiful woman." Mina states while winking at me, causing the crowd to go wild. I stare at her, giving the doe eye effect before stating, "Then I will make it worth your while." At this point, everyone is tuning into this battle. Mina starts off using a big of hip pop moves, making sure to let everyone be aware of her presence. She even got close to me multiple times, grabbing my grin. When it's my turn to battle, I hear nicki minaj blasting through the speakers. I start off my routine locking and then move into some hip-hop while hitting a split. Then, I get close to her body rolling a twerking until the battle is over, the judges vote in favor of me.

I move over to hug Mina, thanking her for battling me. She holds me close before thanking me as well. I move to put the win on our board and make my way over to Deepndapp, putting the loss sticker on there's. Not before Mina taps my butt on the way over. After I make it back to my team, they are congratulating me, with Kristen placing me on her lap and kissing my cheeks. After a while, more battles continued with me being called us to battle redlic, which was more so not a battle with the amount of hair flipping she did. I literally counted each flip. She made it to 11 before she ended her battle. We eventually make it to a break, with production calling for a commercial telling us to go gather our thoughts and prepare for the next segment. We ordered some food, more so me, because I'm the only one who can speak Korean. As I'm making my way outside to get the food I spot Lia, looking angry as shit. Starting to realize that I kinda went a bit overboard and now I'm low-key scared as fuck.

I grab the food practically trying to run into the Jam Republic room. Latrice opens the door, taking the food from me. Until she sees Lia, "you realize you can't avoid her forever, especially when you were wrong as fuck." I look at her before she tells me to go apologize. I hear Lia yelling, "Amara, get you ass over here." I try to make another run for it until she catches up with me. "Your ass is getting punished. Let's go." I try to apologize to her, hoping that would work, I know I'm far past acceptance. She gives me a look before pulling me in the towards 1 million rooms. Telling everyone to leave immediately and go to Jam Republic's room, they see the look on her face, some to scared to question their leader and others already knowing I'm in for it, and then they all file out. She pushes me on the couch and starts pacing around the room. "Don't fucking speak to me, I can't believe you. Completely walking around whoring yourself out. Knowing everyone in that room wants to be in my position but can't. Its OK, just gonna have to remind you how makes you feel like your in heaven, the only person that can make you cum. Let's get to work then, shall we?"

Well, that's how I ended up in this position. Legs are being held open pressed against my stomach, feeling extremely vulnerable in this position. Just how she likes it. I've lost count of how many times I've come. This break seems like it's been forever. My legs have cramped up so badly. "B-baby please I can't cum anymore." I try to beg her hoping she will have mercy on me. She claimed she accepted my apology after I came for the 3rd time in a row. But she just keeps going. "Yes, you can, my pretty flower. I know you can. Just one more." She says while placing 3 fingers back inside me all at once, the stretch feeling the like the first time. I start to cry and thrash around, causing her to grab my face soothing me. "Just one more time. I promise, ok? Do it for me. Make me proud."

With rhat I try my very best. Do lost in pleasing her. All I want to do is make her proud. And she knows this. She has broken me down, orgasm by orgasm to the point that all I can think about is her. She starts to move her fingers faster, moving her head back down in its previous position to suck on my abused clit. I scream out loud. "F-fuck, yes... please... right there." She hits that sweet spot inside of me again, smirking. "Right there, huh? I know baby just cum for me." My thighs clench tight around her head screaming out her name completely forgetting where we are. Though, I'm too fucked out to care. All I see is white, my limbs going slack on the couch. She stares up at me, her chin dripping with her shirt as well. I look confused until she says, "You squirted baby." She seems so happy and proud of herself. All I can do is throw my arms out, grabbing her. "My precious little flower, all mine." I hear her say will looking at me lovely. "All yours, only yours."And don't you ever forget it."

(Request brought to you by @thegayassbit-ch)

[hypnoneghoul]

okay okay peepaw woke up and had the time to have some sappy thoughts so here we go

this year was great but then it sucked but then I don't remember most of it, but what I do remember is the awesome moments. I've been a ghost fan for a few years now and then I just started interacting with the fandom this year and then being a more active member by writing fics and I've no idea how i ended up here with so many amazing friends who support me and that I can always turn to if I need anything. I've got no words now besides I love you all and I'm so grateful we've got the chance to meet, even if we dont talk much and we're just moots in passing i appreciate you all so so so much🖤🖤🖤

@littlemoon-beam @jesusbutbetterrr @jazz-bazz @jimothybarnes @mac-and-thefox @forlorn-crows @sphylor @everybodyshusband @ominousposting @iamthecomet @kamonart @ghoultrifle @rainyhoursinhell @swissndewdrop @sexy-sea-basss @swedishgremlin @herbal-quintessence @divine-misfortune @papaslittlesunshine @coffeeghoulie @kkaisarion @chapel-of-rizztual @amara-among-the-stars @nocturnalghoul @p1nkcanoe @crimsonclergy

also if I forgot someone I'm killing myself

[liviavanrouge]

Late Celebration

Livia: *Looks around curiously, taking in all the Elemental Spirit decorations* Wow...

Leona: *Walks beside her through the kingdom, beastmen passing by excitedly chatting* We're almost there..

Kalim: WOW! What's all the decorations for!?

Azul: Clearly for the Spirit Fairies..but why is the Afterglow Savanna celebrating..

???: Many, many years ago a Spirit Saintess saved the First King and since then we raise our hands in celebration on the Spirit Saint or Spirit Saintess' birthday as thanks to him or her

Falena: *Kneels down in front of Livia with his wife and Cheka, bowing their heads to her* We greet the Spirit Saintess of Twisted Wonderland, forgive us for being...so very late to celebrating you..

Livia: *Stares at them feeling shy and slightly confused, stepping closer to Leona* I-It's okay..I don't mind,

Livia: A-And please stand up...

Falena: *Rises to his feet, smiling* Happy Very Late Birthday, Saintess Livia, please enjoy the festival...

Amara: We always start the festival off with the Saintess herself, showing us an element she picks

Livia: *Walks to the stage, looking slightly nervous*

Leona: *Nods to her, smiling* You got this..

Livia: *Holds her hand up* Tsunami! Ripple!!

Tsunami and Ripple: *Appears in the air, creating a large body of water in the sky*

Livia: *Leaps up, swimming through the water, smiling as she did a twirl in the water*

Livia: *Holds her hands out, the water forming into large lions, running through the air*

Leona: *Claps with the crowd, grinning widely as Livia came down*

Livia: *Perks up, the flowers underneath her feet lifting into the air, spinning around*

Livia: *Laughs, sitting down, a wide smile on her face*

Falena: Ah, so the rumors are true, she absolutely adores flowers!

Amara: That is a relief...

Cheka: *Beams as the flower passed overhead*

Falena: LET THE CELEBRATION OFFICIALLY BEGIN!!!

Kalim: Yeah! Let's go join Liv, we can sit together guys!

Azul: *SIghs* Very well..for Livia's special day..

Epel: Let's go!

Vil: Can't let have Potato Cub have all the fun

Trey: *Laughs* Agreed!

Riddle: *Smiles* Then what are we waiting for? Let's have fun!

~~~~~

Livia: *Laughs, dancing in the middle, wearing the Afterglow Savanna outfit given to her, her hair up in pigtails with a single braid, two braids hanging on either side of her head*

Falena: *Smiles, standing in the middle with her as people held hands moving in a circle around them*

Riddle: *Laughs with the others, holding Trey and Vil's hands, moving in a circle with everyone*

Livia: *Smiles wide, her eyes sparkling as Falena lifted her up, one hand holding hers as he moved around balancing her on his shoulder*

~~~~~

Livia: *Smiles wide, waving to everyone, sitting in the carriage specially made for her*

Leona: *Smiles, sitting with Livia, alongside the others*

Kalim: This is so cool! They take this seriously!

Vil: Indeed, seems like all of Twisted Wonderland celebrates Livia's birth, she is a very important person after all due to being the only Saintess as of right now

Azul: *Chuckles* How lucky are we to know someone more famous than Malleus Draconia

Trey: Very lucky!

Livia: *Smiles, gently tossing candy to people, her eyes brightening at the sight of everyone's smiles*

~~~~~

Kalim: *Holds his hand out* Come on, Liv!

Leona: Little Hunter, they have your favorite! Fruit!

Livia: *Beams, laughing as her friends surrounded her*

Vil: *Places a rose crown on her head, smiling*

Livia: *Smiles, looking at Falena and his people doing a traditional dance* WOW!

Leona: Wanna join them?

Livia: Oh can I show them a traditional dance from my people!

Amara: *Smiles coming over* Of course! We would love to see the dance you hold so dearly, Saintess!

~~~~~

Livia: *Beams, teaching people the Fae Jaguar traditional dance*

Falena and Livia: *Grabs each others hand, spinning quickly in a circle then holding a hand out*

Kalim: *Laughs, dancing with Riddle and Azul*

Livia: *Beams, lifting her hands into the air in a waving motion then twirls with Falena switching spots*

Leona: *Chuckles, placing his hands on Livia's waist, spinning around then setting her down*

Livia: *Beams, twirling away, laughing*

~~~~~

Livia: *Waves to people in her carriage taking her to the Kingscholar Residence*

Kalim: Today was so fun!!

Azul: I'm tired out, never before had I had so much fun!

Vil: *Laughs, a hand on his chest* It was adoring! The fruit, the decorations, the games!

Riddle: Look, she's asleep...

Livia: *Smiles, fast asleep in her seat, her head resting on her arms*

Leona: *Pulls Livia close, leaning her against him* Tuckered herself out

Trey: Indeed, she had the most fun, came right out of her shell the moment she rode on the Spinning Flowers

Vil: It's good that she enjoyed today, otherwise I'd have taken her back immediately

Riddle: Agreed!

Azul: *Chuckles, putting his vest over Livia*

@queen-of-twisted @yukii0nna @zexal-club @soulfungai @teddymochi @writing-heiress @fair-night-starry-tears @abyssthing198

[cvpiddszn]

𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞 | 𝐣.𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

a/n: part three has been anticipated. i've been extremely busy rn, BUTTTT the last part is here, but i will continue to write for these two because i love them. a masterlist is in the making!!!! also might write for ellie and quinn, nyx and luke, AND kie and nico

summary: birdie finally comes forward about her feelings

warnings: babies, suggestions towards sex, major miscommunication, fluff

word count: 3.1k

series: part one, part two, part three

My head was fucking pounding at the commotion downstairs. I could hear the squeals of the twins, their squeaks making the hangover worse than it already was. I tossed to the other side, feeling the cold sheets beneath my body at the new position. I closed my eyes hoping that sleep would consume me but alas: nothing. I knew the minute I walked down there Blair would know I was upset. With her empath ways which I silently cursed plenty of times, she could always sense when something was wrong but I knew that she wouldn’t say anything unless I told her myself.

I crawled out of the bed, making it and clearing out all of my stuff. We had plenty of guest bedrooms but Ellie and Quinn had sort of claimed this exact one which was closest to baby Amara (which I would’ve thought was a curse waking up to her cries). Closing the doors softly in hopes that I wouldn’t be caught coming out of the guest bedroom.

I nearly slipped into Jack and I’s room without trouble but a small Lowen was blinking at me, “Mommy?” He asked, his head tilted to the side in a question and I closed my eyes sharply praying that this was all some kind of bad dream.

I turned around and opened my eyes, masking my face with one of contentment, one that showed that I was happy with my life. He stood right in front of me, so I leaned forward kissing his forehead, “Yes, baby? What do you need?”

“Why’d you come out of Auntie Ellie and Uncle Quinn’s room?” Lowen’s blue eyes were held with curiosity and sometimes I wished that these boys inherited less traits of Jack. 

I crouched down, placing my hand against his cheek, smiling softly. “I was just making sure the room was ready for them, cleaning up. I saw a hot wheels car that was on the carpet. We wouldn’t want Auntie Ellie slipping and hurting herself on it. Would we?” The lie came easy, and I felt terrible having to lie to my boys but they weren’t old enough to understand. The words that Jack had said played through my head, but I knew that he would try to hide it from our kids for as long as he could. He believed in fixing things, he always had.

With a nod, Lowen raced down the stairs eager to do whatever it was that he was being entertained with right now. I finally walked into the room, seeing the blinds already open letting the sun come in. The alarm clock on Jack’s side of the bed read ‘10:29’, and I wanted to curl into the large bed and sleep. I was uncomfortable last night, and extremely cold knowing that J wasn’t there to warm me up. He was like sleeping beside a heater. always warm and never cold, which was why I was a good contrast for him. To cool him off when he got too warm.

Walking into the bathroom and locking the door behind me, I saw my reflection. My hair was a mess of curls, my makeup smudged, eyes were nearly red from crying. Starting the shower turning the dial much hotter than usual. To the point where I knew that it would turn my skin red after I got out.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Lake ran toward me, throwing himself at me as I made my way to the bottom of the stairs. Everyone was sat in the living room, Amara content to play with Ellie on the floor while Jack and Quinn had a hockey game already playing. I nearly rolled my eyes before my son flung himself at me.

I caught him with a grunt, his legs clinging onto my thighs instead of my hips. I dragged him along, kissing his head feeling my arms beginning to get weak as he continued to cling. “Morning, sunshine.” I grinned down at him, letting myself sit down on the couch beside my husband. I knew Jack wouldn’t want his brother to know about his relationship problems and he knew that I didn’t either so he let his arm rest just behind me. A simple gesture that had my heart racing.

Lake crawled up to my lap, hugging me for a quick second before moving to play with his brother. The boy couldn’t sit still to save his life, always needing to be preoccupied with something. As he left, Jack’s hand grabbed onto my shoulder pulling me in while he continued to talk to his older brother. My legs pulled up to the side and I watched as Ellie spoke to my little girl in a quiet voice to make sure not to startle her even though she had two older brothers who are extremely loud.

Without thinking my head resting on Jack’s shoulder, I closed my eyes comforted by his warmth. When I opened my eyes I saw Ellie’s eyes nearly question me. Kiera must’ve told her something so I only looked away, avoiding her eyes because I knew that she could read me just as well as I could read her. 

I stood up leaving my human heater, “Hey, Ellie, you mind helping me in the kitchen?” I asked, to which she nodded. “J, you mind watching her?” I asked as Ellie stood up beside me, I fiddled with my fingers resisting the urge to pick at them and pull at the skin.

“She’s just right there?” Jack replied, giving me a harsh look. It was hard to ignore a lot when your husband was actively glaring at you as if I had said the stupidest thing ever. 

Quinn slapped his brother’s shoulder, looking towards me and smiling. “We’ve got her, Mads.” Even after I had been married, he still called me a nickname that had my last name in it and I missed the familiarity of being young. “Don’t we?” The oldest Hughes stood up from his spot, scooping Amara up from her spot on the floor.

Looking towards Isla with a smile, seeing her admiration of Quinn with a baby in his arms. I grabbed onto the blonde’s arm pulling her along with me to the kitchen. When we were a good distance from the living room I let her go.

Ellie held her hands on her hips, holding some motherly pose that would’ve made me laugh in any other situation. “Okay, now, what’s been going on? Why is Jack looking at you like you committed some crime against him? Kie had mentioned something-”

My arms wrapped around her quickly, and she paused when she felt that I was crying, my shoulders shaking with every sob. I sank to the floor, and she followed with me. Her hand rubbed circles into my back, there had been plenty of times that we had cried together, yelled (or what Isla considered yelling) at each other, and so much more. 

“I can’t, I don’t know how,” None of my words made sense as everything just followed me. Not a sentence seemed to form right in my head or mouth. “J, he- and Amara. I can’t-”

“Hey, take your time. Relax, you’re safe alright? I’ve got you, B. Always.” Her words only made me sob harder.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Hey angel, you ready to go?” Quinn’s voice came closer, Ellie and I both paused looking up at the boy with wide eyes. My eyes were no doubt puffy and red, while we were both sitting on the floor in a comfortable position that we had been in for a while. I could already feel my ass beginning to hurt from the hardwood under. 

Ellie shook her head as I removed myself from her sniffling softly and wiping under my eyes, thankful for waterproof mascara. I grabbed one of Amara’s face clothes ran it under cold water and dabbed it under my eyes to reduce the swelling, hearing their hushed whispers behind me.

“We’re taking your kids to Kie’s, we’ll be back sometime later tonight.” Ellie’s soft voice was heard through the silence, she placed her head on my shoulder in a comforting spot and I bit back the urge to brush her hand off but she knew exactly what I needed even if it wasn’t said. She quieted her voice between the both of us, “I want you to go out tonight, I want you to take the time to fix it. You two are the one relationship I know that can work anything out. You are not your parents, Bird.”

I only nodded, placing the cloth over the tap turning around and giving the blonde a small smile. One of reassurance, that I was okay and that I would be okay. It was something so little, a doubt in the back of my mind. Old Birdie would’ve laughed if she found out what I had been so upset over.

Ellie left the kitchen, passing her husband who gave her a look that had her nodding. I always admired the two, their communication and how with a simple nod Ellie knew exactly what Quinn meant. They were synced up, and if you believed in soulmates; they were the perfect example of it.

“Trouble in paradise?” Quinn finally spoke, keeping his distance from me. Unless I had said or initiated any sort of physical touch, Quinn preferred not to. He wasn’t a big hug person, despite his younger brother being the definition of physical affection. Though he made an exception for me.

I managed a laugh, his commentaries were never all that serious. He knew that was what I had Ellie around for. “Something like that,” I replied, wiping my wet hands on a towel to dry them. Quinn gave me this look that I knew he knew and the dread began once again. The aching feeling of people knowing. The look of pity on people’s faces nearly made me want to cry all over again.

“I’m sure you’ve been lectured enough about this so I won’t bother with it. You know already. I will ask though, are you okay, Mads?” I was silent for a while as he waited for my response, deciding that I needed a drink because my head was beginning to pound once again. 

“Word of advice: do not drink when you have kids. You will never sleep or have any freedom. I think it’d be a little different if it was just the boys but Amara doesn’t like letting me sleep at all, she prefers to cry and scream until I get J. Daddy’s girl for sure.” I spoke, hoping to avoid his question. “It was only eight years ago when you swore off women and claimed you never wanted children. Then you got married and I imagine that you’re trying for children?”

We had somehow made our way into a spot in the kitchen that allowed you to peer through the living room. Quinn’s eyes glanced toward Ellie, with a sort of glassy look, it took him a minute to respond but I never questioned it. “I never wanted children, always expected that I would be the cool Uncle who spoiled the kids but kids make her happy. I want her to be happy.” He swallowed, I leaned my head onto his shoulder, to which he wrapped his arm around my arm, pulling me into his side.

“You guys are good together. You’d be a great dad, Quinn.” I reassured him, he kissed the top of my head and I already felt much lighter. The pair were perfect, the quiet and reassuring with the calm and calculated. They would make some kids extremely proud one day.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Do you have everything? The diapers, the car seat, wipes?” Jack’s worry was clear to everyone as he began to name things on a list like it was memorized and I nearly smiled rolling my eyes at him but bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself back. 

Instead, I placed my hand on his shoulder, “Everything is in the bag, nothing has been removed and you even watched Quinn put the car seat in to make sure that it was put in right.” My voice was light and when Jack looked back at me, I could see so much worry. I looked towards the couple at the door, waving them off, “You better leave now before J finds something that you need.” I shooed, walking over toward Ellie who had Amara snuggled in with her. 

When I backed up, I could feel a crash into my legs and when I looked down I could see little five-year-old hands on my thighs, unable to wrap themself around me. I turned around in what little space I had being trapped between the five-year-old arms. Lake looked up at me, wide-eyed. It wasn’t often that they left the house without us, sure there was a lot of travelling from Michigan to New Jersey so that we could be close to their grandparents for the summer, but within their five years, there was a lot of going to Jack’s games travelling. Especially when Jack’s team played against Quinn or Trevor’s. 

I smiled, ruffling the boy’s hair. Quinn called out to Lake telling him that they were leaving and the boys scrammed from his spot, hurrying out the door and closing it behind him. I could hear the gravel crunching underneath the tires.

Feeling hands wrap around my waist, I embraced the feeling, letting Jack stand behind me and slightly rock me as my head came back to rest against his shoulder while his head stayed in the crook of my neck. Placing a kiss between my neck and shoulder, I sighed aloud, letting out a breath of anxiety that I held. 

There was a silence that washed over the house, it was quiet and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I had been home with the kids for the last six months. Did I know what to do with myself in my free time? It was obvious that neither of us wanted to have sex, especially with the tension that filled our marriage for the last two days.

My hand placed itself over Jack’s pulling it from my body but I kept a hold of his hand dragging him with me to the couch. We sat down, my hand still placed into his and I cherished the feeling of it.

“We should talk,” I suggested finally feeling prepared. Though I wished I had some script, it would help with the anxiety. “About last night, about Amara, about everything. But first I want to say something, and you’re not going to argue with me on it because I already told them yes.” He never said anything so I took it as the queue that I could continue. “I’m going back to work in a month. We’ll hire a Nanny, Amara will already be seven months old. I can’t take care of the kids all by myself anymore. I got a job offer at a University, I’ll be getting paid twice the amount I did working at a High School.”

Jack only stared at me, as if he was trying to process my words and still manage to come up with something smart that wouldn’t make either of us upset, so he nodded. “Okay, we’ll start interviewing people next week. I might not always be there, it’s the first roadie of the season.” 

I nodded my reply, I knew that Jack didn’t like Nannies, especially since he claimed that Isadora took care of four children herself without any help but I couldn’t do it. “There has to be changes here too. I don’t want a divorce or to confuse our kids. I want to sleep in our bed, but I was doing some research and it said that babies need to start sleeping in their cribs when they’re six months old or they’ll get confused. Amara is confused and upset right now, I’m giving her formula now and she’s a bit fussy about it and she’s not used to you not being home. Sometimes we have to let her cry it out.”

“I get it, but sometimes we’re both too tired to argue with her.” He stated, and I remembered the time I had even brought her to sleep with us because she wouldn’t stop and the boys were in the room next door. I definitely regret setting the boys in the room next door to the baby.

“Another thing, I know that it’s different for both of us. You would think the second time around and with previous twins, I would be an expert but I’m not. I can assure you that a girl is much different than two boys. One more thing that I know is that I love you, and I’m sorry. I was completely jealous of our little girl getting all of your attention. It wasn’t fair that I was being selfish.” His hand squeezed mine in reassurance and he gave me a soft smile, kissing my cheek gently.

“I know that was hard for you to admit,” He teases with a smile knowing my stubbornness and I slap his bicep in protest, nearly speaking up in my defence before his lips came crashing onto mine and pulling back, “I'm sorry too. But to be fair, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to give you attention. You’ll always be my number one, Bird. Amara is a bit like her mother, don’t you think? Extremely needy and jealous?” He kissed me once again, his hand finding my back before laying me on the couch with him kneeling between my legs, his wedding band creating a chill on the back of my thigh as he brought it up to rest against his hip.

My hands pressed against his cheeks, pulling him closer. “I just love it when you insult me trying to get me in your bed, Mr. Hughes. Might want to watch your tongue.” I teased softly, my nails softly brushing against his jaw.

His brows raised in a challenge and I only grinned further. “You’ll get into my bed, either way, Mrs. Hughes.” Jack’s mouth came crashing against me again, and suddenly it felt as though we were newlyweds unable to keep our hands off of each other. It was rare that we actually slept around the time, staying up late and talking or doing other activities that involved no sleep. Little did I know that I would always remember this night.

[tzyuki]

[ 희승 ] ONE HIT WONDER ꒰ L.HS x F!READER

024. heerizzler | smau + written (360 wrds)

IN WHICH ?! — Y/n was just a one-hit wonder with her popular track “CRUEL SUMMER” which charted #10 on billboard hot 100. A year and a half later when she releases her second single she’s upset seeing that it’s no where near as big as her debut, that is until ENHYPEN member heeseung recommends it to his viewers.

Heeseung slid his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. Entering the elevator, pressing number 25. The floor where Y/n lived on.

Hearing the ding, his signal to exit the elevator. He walked down the dimly lit hallway stopping at apartment 352, knocking on the door three times.

“Hi!” Y/n said cheerfully as she opened the door, she had been standing at the door waiting for him. “I missed you so much!” Y/n hugged him like a bear, grasping him tightly.

“I missed you too!” Heeseung kissed her head. “I might pass out from his right you're hugging me.” She chuckled. “Sorry, I just missed you a lot.” She shut the door. The two walked into her small living room and flopped onto the couch.

“How was the tour?” Y/n asked. “It was good, tiring but good.” Heeseung yawned. “Are you tired? You should’ve just stayed home and slept.” Y/n pouted, “Now I feel bad.”

“Don’t, I wanted to see you.” Heeseung smiled. “C’mere.” He gestured to the girl to come lay closer to him. “If anything—.” He paused, yawning. “I can nap beside you whilst you watch a movie or something.”

“Hm, I can nap with you.”

The two laid down, Heeseung spooning Y/n and his chin resting on her head. “Can I ask you something?” He asked, his eyes closed whilst Y/n’s stayed open, staring at their intertwined hands.

“Of course.” She mumbled.

“How do you feel about us?” Y/n thought for a minute. “Happy. I feel happy about us.” She nodded lightly and hummed.

“How do you feel about being my girlfriend?” Y/n tensed up a little. “Nevermind—forget it.”

“No! I won’t—being your girlfriend is…something I’d like.” She got out of his grasp to look at him, leaning on her elbow to support her weight.

“Really?” Heeseungs eyes slightly widened. “Yes.” Y/n nodded her head, a small smile on her face.

“I was scared you didn’t want labels.” Heeseung spoke, fidgeting with Y/n’s fingers and drawing little lines on them. “Hm, now I get to call you my boyfriend.” Y/n pecked him on the cheek.

m.list — previous — next

EJ NOTE 💭 i literslly wanted to cry eriting that it sounds so cringe

TAGLIST (closed) 🎶 @iulrma @jangwonie @cwsana @luvyrin @shinsou-rii @amara-mars @ineedaherosavemeenow @mintydayeon @love-4-keum @kpopx-xlover @abdiitcryy @beepjeongie @rikijackson04 @hyeki @nyfwyeonjun @yenqa @wondering-out-loud @ilvsoup @vuiom @trsrina @kokoiinuts @s4turnsl0ver @seesaweun @captivq @wonieleles @kyanmeai @kim-liv @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @enhasengene @wanna-live-yn-life @jiawji @soobsdior @hyeunfae @dimplewonie @luvhooniez @h4chi @letmeal0ne @inlovewithsimjaeyun @baerinaa @wooniy

[superconductivebean]

###: HLMCOctober - 5

link to the masterpost

How would your MC's spend a day with their partner/friends?

Mentors:

Fig: They rarely had a free day but whenever an opportunity would arise, it'd mean an outdoor class or a lecture on magical theory. Julia remembers them fondly, and feels sorrow for how little she managed to learn from him while he was around.

Sharp: Aesop isn't the most outgoing person in the castle but Julia discovered his secret spots for architecture sketching. He was very unhappy to learn that but couldn't shush away Julia as he would any other student. He agreed to mentor her after all, and she was grateful he has shown acceptance of her as of his personal charge (after that he had also become her legal guardian) rather than a student who simply needed a bit more guidance. Besides, he had a lot of things to teach her; Aesop isn't a man of a squandered chance, he used these brief talks to think through his own research. After Julia finished school, their communication became less frequent, so whenever there's opportunity, they can spend a day just talking about work, research, potions, his leg, her scar, whatever that is Julia's uncle can be about, and so on and so forth.

Love interests:

Poppy: Forbidden Forest date or Southern Coast date. Always starts at the Three Broomsticks because Poppy likes butterbeer but dislikes being in a pub (but is somehow fine with drinking flying on Highwing) or in the village whatsoever. Julia didn't mind most of the time. After school, localities remained somewhat the same except if Southern Coast was somewhat warm, rocky shores of Wales were relentlessly windy, much like shores of Faroe. It quite literally can carry away the butterbeer. Poppy, although, laughs whenever it happens, so, Julia doesn't mind much either.

Imelda: They used to fly over the entire valley in few warm days. It was fun while it lasted; one time they were rushing too close to the sea and got knocked into it. Sirona had to get them blankets while they were sitting drenched beneath the fireplace. That story repeated itself multiple times over the years, and it will happen again, and Julia will insist to spend more of days like this somewhere cosy. Imelda will call her princess and demand a broom flight, then fall into the water again, then complain it's effing cold as balls, then gulp half a bottle of firewhiskey, then blurp, well, that's about how does one date Imelda.

It's a bit hectic, when they spend a day together, all three. They never know how will it start nor how will it end.

Other peeps:

Certain Amara Ambrose: The last one entering the courtyard near the Clock tower gets gobstoned unless they win in a quick duel (task impossible). Fucking penthouse mapping few years later. @boxdstars

Aubrey: They read muggle newspapers and audibly gasped at stuff like Jack the Ripper mentions or newly prepared expeditions to yet undescribed lands. Girls were in shocks after the Titanic.

Fabri: Julia has failed to learn how to enter into a room via windows. She will fail again. She will never learn. @thriftstorebabayaga

Danny: Quiet studying or Quidditch training, especially when Amit or Samantha or both were around. Danny is a cosy friend. @catohphm

Natty: Julia owes her the skill to cast without a wand. Julia maybe isn't a good fighter, but she's a potioneer. Such skills are invaluable when the wand has drown in the cauldron or worse, is on another table and you can't turn around to pick it up.

Others: Depends on the activity or a person. Julia was the only one to tolerate Garreth's strive to test new concoctions on someone (she used him as a learning opportunity).