#but after two i think rich in particular would reach out

[brimstoneandtreacle]

if i **** at home, alone, i wonder who would be the first person to notice

p.s. you can only have 30 tags on a post. not swag

[killerlookz]

You and Your Friend | Joost Klein, Ski Aggu

description: joost klein x f! reader, ski aggu x f! reader- Upon seeing each other for the first time in a year after a hook-up, lingering tension remains between you and Joost, leaving his friend Aggu to decide to play matchmaker for you two in a rather unusual way.

content: 18+ smut, mdni, threesome, unprotected PiV, cream pie, oral (both m! and f! receiving) spitroasting?? i think that's what its called, a little orgasm denial, f!overstim, a tinge of jealousy (less than I originally planned cos its been a min since i wrote something without angst lol), drinking, aggu being a complete sneaky little bastard/kind of convoluted plot bc of it, mentioned that reader has moved to LA but no nationality or country of origin is assigned to them. not super proofread

THIS FIC CONTAINS RPF AND HAS BEEN TAGGED AS SUCH... IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE DO NOT INTERACT, PLEASE BLOCK THE RPF TAG AND MOVE ON. DO NOT SHARE MY WORK ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIAS OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR EITHER IN SCREENSHOTS OR IN ITS ENTIRETY.

word count: 9095

The bitter taste of liquor drips down your throat, an uncomfortable warmth invading your abdomen as the liquid reaches your stomach. Your muscles tense, your eyes forcing shut, an involuntary twitch trembling through your nerves. With a groan of disgust you slam the shot glass down on the marble counter in front of you, your eyes finally opening as you do so.

Music thumps around you, pouring from expensive speakers throughout the impressive expanse of the house you currently stood in. Party-goers intoxicated on the finest substances money could buy surrounded you, their loud voices almost rivaling the music.

Since moving to Los Angeles parties like this had become your thing, mansions in the hills that you could't dream of affording had practically become your second home. Vague connections with the music industry, and being a friend, of a friend, of a friend had managed to get you in just about anywhere. You were working your way up to becoming a well-known socialite, minus the usual rich parents and nepotism.

Parties like this were usually your thing, making drunken connections and inching your way up the city's social totem pole, all while having the time of your life. Today seemed different, the liquor wasn't hitting you the same, the music didn't sound right, and engaging in conversation felt like a chore. Being fresh-faced and hot in Los Angeles, you had become far too used to the world being yours, but not tonight. Tonight the one thing you wanted was too far out of your reach.

Last year one of your friends suggesting a surprise vacation had landed you in Berlin, and a night of clubbing had landed you in bed with a particular Dutch musician. His name was Joost, relatively unknown outside of the Netherlands at the time, he and a friend who called himself Ski Aggu had been out celebrating having a number one hit in Germany. It felt like fate that he had ended up at the same club where you had been, and it didn't take much for him to charm your clothes off. Both he and Aggu were far different than the musicians you had met in the states. Confident, but not full of themselves like you had been used to, both men had actually given you the time of day, they were interested in you beyond what you could do for them sexually. Truth be told you would have been happy to go home with either of them that night, and you wondered if Aggu had been the one to take you to bed if you would even be in the predicament you were in now.

You and Joost had kept vague contact since the night you hooked up, how could you not? He was an exceptional lay, fucking you like the two of you were long lost lovers, making you cum over and over until you collapsed into a whimpering mess in his arms. It felt far too sweet for a one-night stand, and, perhaps stupidly you had thought there was something more there. Hence, your lingered contact, an occasional text here and there to catch up on how things had been, a phone call on an even rarer occasion.

You hadn't exactly expected him to blow up in the way that he did in the year since you last saw him, a spot competing on Eurovision, and a subsequent disqualification put fame right at his finger tips. Still, even with his newfound success, and much less "low-key" life, which had resulted in your contact with him reaching a screeching halt, you still refused to believe that you were nothing more than a one-night stand. That fact alone had made tonight just about impossible for you. Never in a million years had you expected Joost to be in the States, let alone one of these parties, this was your territory. But, there was no denying that was the case as you tried your hardest to prevent your gaze from wandering across the room towards where you knew he had been standing. You tried your hardest to rack your brain on who he could have known here, but after his stint as a Eurovision contestant, you shouldn't be so surprised, sure he now had connections far wider than you could imagine. Though, you found it charming how he still traveled with that same group of friends he had when you met him in that tiny club in Berlin. And certainly seeing Joost again would be a much more charming experience if he had actually bothered to glance your way at least once tonight. But you had no such luck.

Leaving your empty shot glass on the marble countertop, you decide to drag yourself off to another part of the home, somewhere where it isn't so crowded, where you can have some space to think, to breathe. Usually on nights like tonight, ironically enough thinking was the last thing on your mind, but now, you had felt like you needed somewhere to escape to where you could hear your own thoughts. Maybe then, in the comfortability of your the presence of nobody else but yourself could you once again bring out that messy party girl who was screaming to be let out of you.

An empty bedroom had become the perfect place for you to wallow in your self-pity for the time being. The music still thumped in your ears, albeit more muffled now, and the voices of party goers were nothing but a dull hum. You let yourself fall onto the large bed, your body hitting the thick, surely all-too-expensive comforter. You stare at the ceiling, contemplating your next move, never in your life had you felt like this when it came to a guy. Never had you let yourself second guess whether you were worth a man's time, of course you were worth it. But with Joost, you couldn't help but lose the self-assurance you always had, for once, you found yourself actually caring about what someone else thought of you. Your stomach churned at the thought, getting all self-conscious over a guy you barely knew was surely a major blow to your I don't give a fuck reputation. For the first time since you had moved to Los Angeles, you had been humbled.

"Oh, shit." A vaguely familiar chuckle travels from where you think the door to the bedroom is. The accent in the voice is apparent, even in those two short words, enough for you to be almost-certain of who now occupies the bedroom with you. Almost-certain isn't enough, however, and straining slight due to your tipsy nature you sit up from where your back rests against the bed.

Your suspicions are immediately confirmed upon getting a glimpse at the other person in the room.

"Aggu!" You grit your teeth, attempting a smile, and immediately you regret your decision to address him by name, positive he had probably completely forgotten who you are. You cross your legs and sit up straight.

Aggu smiles back, leaning against the door frame,

"Am I interrupting something?" He asks, a little confused, but amusement still written all over his face. "Waiting for Joost?" He laughs. He did remember you.

"Joost?" You scoff, trying your hardest to pretend that the idea of you wanting anything to do with Joost was ridiculous, "No." You shake your head, hopefully hiding your bitterness behind a polite smile, "I didn't even know he was here."

Aggu smirks, forcing a tension into the room. Watching as his lips curl your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into the thick fabric of the comforter.

"Blödsinn." (nonsense) His tone is disapproving as his arms cross, you don't understand a what he says, not that you can concentrate much on whatever comes out of his mouth with the way his bicep muscles strain against the tight fabric of his t-shirt. You wonder briefly if he has always been this fit, if you had been too busy drooling over Joost last time you saw him to realize.

"Sorry," Aggu chuckles, clocking your lack of comprehension, "I mean to say you're full of shit."

"What," Your eyes widen, muscles tensing, "No, I'm not." You're instantly defensive, which you're sure gives yourself away entirely.

"I have working eyes under those ski goggles" He uncrosses an arms, pressing a finger under his eye, tapping twice. There's an odd sweetness about his condescension towards you, like he's slowly, wordlessly beginning to understand your situation.

"Hm?" You hum, barely loud enough for him to hear, your eyebrows furrow for a moment- right, your face returns to a more relaxed expression, you had forgotten about his ski goggle shtick, and perhaps you could consider yourself lucky for the only two times you had seen him in person had been without his goggles.

"Unless it's me you've been oggling all night." You and him both know that isn't true, you can tell in the way he speaks, it's more of a suggestion. You shrug, letting a sheepish look fall on your face in pretend innocence.

"Joost and I... only hooked up that one time," You say, your voice indicating you had little regard for the situation, perhaps you weren't such a bad liar after all, "But maybe I wish it was you who I had gone home with instead." At least that wasn't entirely a lie, at least even now Aggu seemed willing to give you the time of day, even if he had only stumbled into you on accident.

You let your eyes widen, suddenly looking up at Aggu from your spot on the bed through batted lashes, a pout forming on your well-glossed lips, and there she was, that messy party girl inside of you, finally crawling her way out. Slowly, you uncross your legs, letting your thighs part slightly, though not quite enough to get a glimpse of anything up your skirt.

"Ja?" Aggu's eyebrows raise as he slowly lifts himself from against the door frame, walking towards you. "Guess you don't feel the same about that night as Joost does then."

"What do you mean?" The words fall from your lips before your brain can even catch up, and she's gone, the simple sentence knocking you down once again. Had Joost actually enjoyed that night as much as you did?

"Joost isn't the type to kiss and tell." His arms crossing again, he's much closer to you now, "But after a night like that I think he had to."

"A night like..." You're suddenly worried about what Aggu had heard about that night, trying to remember if anything particularly crazy happened, nothing stood out, though maybe you and him did not have the same threshold for what would be considered "crazy."

"Don't want to say too much," He trails off for a moment, letting his mouth once again curl into a smirk, "Just something about the best sex of his life."

Your entire body is hot, burning, the best sex of his life? You could say the same, and the expression that forms on your face threatens to let Aggu know as much.

"Yeah?" You let a smirk settle on your face, your confidence finding you once more, "Can't say he's the first I've heard that from."

"So, you're really not waiting for Joost up here? No plans to relive that night?" Aggu asks, like he didn't believe you the first time you said so. You simply shake your head in response. "A shame for him then." Aggu says matter-of-factly, "Not interested in topping your performance from last time?"

"I'm afraid he's the one who isn't interested." Your vulnerability surprises you, but you cannot say your intentions are entirely pure, thinking if you told the truth, that his best friend didn't seem to be interested, your chances with Aggu would increase tonight. If you can't have one, why wait around and deny yourself of the other?

Aggu shakes his head, "You sound certain."

"Believe me," You sigh, "I've got the memo, no response from him in weeks and he hasn't even looked at me since he got here, I'm certain."

"Maybe I wouldn't be so sure," He teases, "Jealousy is an excellent motivator,"

"Jealousy?" You perk up, interested, immediately picking up what he was putting down.

Aggu nods slowly, "And if it doesn't end up as a motivator, I'm sure we'll have a good time either way." He seems so much taller now that he stands right in front of you, lustful eyes staring down at your spot on the bed, "I get my best friend laid, I get laid, and you get laid, looks like we all win."

And why have one or the other when you could have both?

"Right," You murmur, choked in the moment, "Winners." Your luck had suddenly turned, the prospect of what was in store for you tonight makes your muscles tense, your thighs squeezing together, forced shut from their parted position.

Aggu's hand slips to your chin, his thumb pressing against your lips, you're like putty in his hands the moment he touches you.

"Ah," He smiles, noticing the way you melt under him, "You weren't lying when you said you wanted me to take you home."

"Not at all," You breathe out, your muscles relaxing, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of Aggu's touch. You lean into his hand, and pucker your lips, pressing a kiss to his thumb. Aggu drags his finger against your bottom lip, pulling it down and forcing your mouth into a pout,

"C'mon," He urges, "Let's go downstairs before we take things too far."

You nod, staring up at Aggu silently, waiting for him to help you up. He does so quickly, reaching a firm hand out for you to grab.

The music becomes more apparent as Aggu leads you out into the hallway, even more so as you head back down the stairs to where the bulk of the party-goers reside.

It's almost embarrassing how quickly you're able to spot Joost, though not fully allowing yourself to wallow in the shame of how desperate you were for him, you chalked it up to him not having moved too far from the last place you had seen him.

Joost doesn't seem to notice you and Aggu, however, as the pair of you step in the room, your hand still in his.

Sparked with an idea, you rip your hand from Aggu's, instead turning toward him. You ruffle your hand through your hair, before lowering your fingers to your lips, swiping a thumb hard enough to just barely smudge the color that stains them. Lowering your hands even farther you slip one of the straps of your top down, letting it hang off your shoulder.

"What's that for?" Aggu asks over the music.

"Giving myself the I just had sex look."

Aggu snakes a hand onto your waist, "Maybe I should have just fucked you upstairs then."

His straightforwardness knocks the breath from you for a split moment,

"The time will come," You say sweetly, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair, attempting to get him to match your mild state of disheveled.

Aggu's eyes flick towards Joost, who's sitting on a couch across the room with his friend Apson, who you remembered vaguely from last year.

"Why don't we go take a seat, hm, looks like there's room for only one more."

You bite your lip, ready to fully lean into the jealousy act.

With his arm around your waist Aggu walks you over to where Joost had been sitting, still even with the assurance of someone who knew actually knew Joost leading you, you can't seem to quell the small pang of anxiety that rings somewhere deep inside you.

Finally it seems Joost takes his first good look at you tonight, a look of amusement on his face as he sees you walking over with Aggu.

"Where have you been, man?" Joost laughs, averting his gaze from you, speaking solely to Aggu.

"Around," Aggu responds flippantly, "Hey, you remember y/n, right?" His grip tightening around your waist, "You two met last year." With his free hand Aggu points between the two of you.

Joost's eyes widen, clearly unsure of what game Aggu was getting at here,

"Ja- uh ja," Joost clears his throat, his eyes quickly darting to you, "Nice to see you again." He nods, an uncomfortable smile pressed to his lips.

"You too," You respond cautiously, feigning disinterest, only a polite grin gracing your lips.

Aggu takes a seat next to Joost before grabbing your hand,

"C'mon sit down," He urges, pulling you onto his lap. After you're settled on his lap Aggu turns towards Apson, "Hey, Appie you remember y/n too right?"

A large grin forms on Apson's lips, a chuckle threatening to spill from his mouth,

"Ja, oh I remember." You watch as Apson gently judges Joost, his elbow poking at Joost's ribcage. You suppress a smirk as you realize how far news of you and Joost's hookup had spread in his friend group. Joost sends Apson a quick glance, one that says knock it off, but it doesn't tame the smile on his face.

"So," Joost speaks quickly to avert the topic from Apson's recollection of the night you and Joost had hooked up, "How have you been?"

You nod, humming pleasantly, "Good," you pause for a moment, racking your brain for what else to say, "Life's been, fun. How about you, things seem interesting in your world."

"Interesting is-eh, definitely a correct word to describe it." He agrees, "I'm grateful though, you know, with everything, it's cool."

"Absolutely," You lean back on Aggu, letting your back rest on his chest, letting your ass settle in his lap, "You must be tired from everything, no?"

Joost shakes his head, "Overwhelming a little," He pauses, "But not tired, I have good stamina." Oh he sure did, that you knew for sure.

"I see Aggu has been busy too," You pull the conversation away from Joost, "You have a new album coming out soon, right? Oh what's it called again?" You ask, turning your head down towards Aggu, placing a hand onto his chest.

"Wilmersdofrs Kind," Aggu smiles, a hand sneaking its way around your front and onto your thigh.

"Ah, and what does that mean?"

"Wilmersdorf's Child." He answers, "You know, Wilmersdorf, is an area of Berlin, maybe next time you're in Germany I could show you around." His grip tightens on his thigh.

"Oh Aggu," You gush, "You are such a sweetheart. I'd love for you to take me sightseeing." Normally, acting like this towards someone you barely knew would make your stomach churn, but the way you notice Joost clenching his jaw when you flick your eyes in his direction makes all the over-the-top flintiness worth it. Besides, it wasn't like it was a challenge to flirt with a man as good looking as him.

"Speaking of traveling," Joost pipes up, "Have you ever been to the Netherlands?"

The muscles of your mouth pull upwards, funny how eager Joost seemed to talk to you now that you were sitting on Aggu's lap, the pair of you flirting aggressively.

You shake your head, "No, never." Keeping your responses short, you don't want to give him too much too soon.

"Have you ever thought about coming to the Netherlands?"

"Depends," You bite your lip, "Do I get to have you as my tour guide? Or are you too busy for me now, Mr. Eurovision." You tease.

"Never too busy, If Aggu doesn't mind me co-opting his tour guide position." Joost shoots Aggu a glance, the pair of them communicating silently, though you cannot quite read either of their expressions.

"Never too busy?" You ask, "Could have fooled me."

"Y/n," Aggu lightly scolds, gripping your thigh

"Um," Apson speaks all of a sudden, "I think I'm going to go-uh- over there, I think Alanis was calling my name." Apson loosely points in a random direction, one where Alanis certainly is not standing. But without another word he's hurrying off the couch. The three of you watch as he scurries off into the direction he pointed in before returning to the conversation.

"What?" Joost furrows his eyebrows, and in an instant you're ready to abandon the whole jealousy act now that you have an opportunity to let Joost know exactly how you had been feeling. But Aggu's fingers gripping into the flesh of your thigh make you think twice, perhaps letting your frustrations out right now would further harm your chances of the night ending the way you want.

"Nothing," You purse your lips, "Just seem like you have a lot on your plate."

"I don't mind making time for you, if that's what you want." And all of a sudden your mouth goes dry and you're not so sure you're talking about traveling anymore.

"Yeah," Aggu interjects, "I'm sure she'd like that," His hand traveling closer to your inner thigh, forcing your body to tense up, "And, I don't mind sharing my position as tour guide." I don't mind sharing are not exactly the words you want to hear out of Aggu's mouth, after all the entire point of this was to make Joost jealous. But you trusted Aggu to read Joost better than you could, even if it did disappoint you how quickly he loosened up on the jealousy act.

"Joost," Aggu speaks again, "Why don't you move over so y/n can actually have a seat."

"Oh," Joost whips his head around to look behind him, realizing with Apson's absence the seat next to him is open. "Ja, sure."

You turn towards Aggu, confused, but all he responds with his cocking his head in the direction of the now empty seat between him and Joost.

Admittedly, a little disappointed, you lift yourself off of Aggu's lap, settling onto the couch. Still, Aggu's hand immediately returns to your thigh.

You're suddenly very aware of yourself, your position between Aggu and Joost, and you wonder if this had been the plan the whole time, if Aggu had intentionally wandered off upstairs in search of you, if he even had any intentions of trying to make Joost jealous in the first place. Had they planned to share you this entire time, from the second they laid their eyes on you tonight?

The thought has you sucking in a sharp breath, one that clearly concerns the both of them,

"You okay?" Aggu asks, caressing your thigh.

"Yeah," You assure, nodding, more than okay, but you decide to pounce on this opportunity to get the two of them away from the crowd, "It's just kind of loud, do you think we can continue this conversation upstairs?"

Joost and Aggu share knowing glances, "Of course," Joost affirms.

You're back in that bedroom, those four walls suddenly feeling familiar as you find yourself back on the bed once more.

"Aggu, can you close the door? It's still kind of loud..."

Aggu, having just barely walked in the room obliges, shutting the door behind him as he passed through the doorway.

Your body tenses at the sudden realization of you being alone with Aggu and Joost, unsure of how to take this where you want it to go. But as your eyes flick between the two of them a familiar feeling sinks in you, the world is yours once again. You settle into your spot on the bed, feeling a little bad for whoever this bedroom actually belonged to. You lean back, propping yourself up with your forearms, your legs still hanging off the bed.

"Are you two just going to stand there?" You giggle, a little surprised that both of them seemed to be frozen in place. Joost looks around, unsure of himself, his line of sight meeting Aggu as he turns to the side.

Aggu cocks his head towards you, "You first," He smirks in response to Joost's uncertainty, "Show her how bad you want her." Want you?

"Yeah," You catch your bottom lip in your teeth, "Come show me." You let your eyes settle on Joost. He seems so much taller than usual as he walks towards where you rest on the bed. You can't help but part your legs almost instinctively, allowing him to stand between them once he gets close enough.

You await his next move as you stare up at him through your lashes. Joost quickly looks back at Aggu once more, motioning with his head for him to come closer,

"Sit behind her, so she can lay on you." It felt a little strange to be talked about in the third person, but it only affirmed that tonight was about you, both of them there for no other reason than to please you.

Aggu agrees, making his way to the bed, sitting behind you, resting on his knees, positioning himself so one leg is on either side of you. His hands are familiar as they find themselves on your torso,

"C'mon," Aggu urges, "You can lay back, Hasi." (bunny)

You let Aggu prop you up with his body, no longer relying on your forearms for support, you're more upright now. Aggu's breath is hot against your neck, the tickling sensation sending shockwaves through your nerves, forcing a twitch from you.

"She's so sensitive," Aggu chuckles, noticing the way you squirm from nothing but his breath grazing your flesh.

"Don't I know it," Joost smiles, clearly remembering this wasn't the first time you had found yourself in such a position with him. Joost reaches a hand forward to hold your chin between his fingers.

"Lay back a little more," He says, a request to both you and Aggu, one to which you both oblige, letting your body slip down further as Aggu adjust's his position. "Good," Joost smiles before patting your thigh with his free hand, "Now bend your legs for me, schatje." The nickname makes your heart skip a beat, recalling his past use of the word. You oblige without a word, kicking off your heels and pulling your legs from where they hang off of the bed, shuffling further back against Aggu so you have enough room.

Your skirt slides up your thighs as you bend your legs, knees now pointing upward. Joost removes his hand from your chin, sinking down to his knees in front of you, his eyes more at level with your crotch now than with your face. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, but it had been so long, you're left feeling exposed, especially as the flimsy fabric of your lacey thong left very little to the imagination.

A content smirk rests on Joost's face as he slides a hand up from your ankle to your calf, taking his time to caress your skin. As Joost slowly teases the lower half of your body, Aggu takes it upon himself to work on your upper body, his hands sliding to the bottom hem of your shirt.

"Arms up," He simply says, and no questions asked, your arms are in the air, allowing Aggu to pull your top over your head. Your back briefly parts from his chest to allow him to fully take your top off, discarding it somewhere on the bed. Your decision to forgo a bra tonight only leaves you even more exposed.

Joost's averts his eyes from your inner thighs, a look of content settling on his face,

"Missed seeing this pretty body," His hands slip up higher on your legs, "Imagination could only get me so far."

The implications of Joost's statement makes your head spin, he had been thinking of you, just as you had been thinking of him.

"Isn't she pretty?" Joost prompts Aggu,

Aggu hums in response, though it comes out more like a low growl as his lips near your neck, "Absolutely gorgeous."

Sitting up a little higher on his knees, Joost begins to press small kisses to your legs, beginning just above your ankle, up to your knee. Each tiny peck against your skin increases the tightness that builds in your abdomen, desperate to feel Joost against your heat as his head inches closer, and closer.

By the time Joost reaches your inner thigh, his small pecks have turned into sloppy, generous kisses, using his tongue more than he was his lips. Aggu made similar work of your neck, nipping at your flesh with his teeth before carefully soothing each bite with his tongue, finishing off each blooming red blemish with a prolonged kiss.

Only a few minutes into this ordeal and you were already a mess, squirming and whimpering before either man had properly touched you.

You feel Joost's hands on your outer thighs, pushing your skirt up to your hips. Your panties or what little of them there is are on full display, Joost's tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his soft pink lips at the sight.

A hand falls from where it rests at the hem of your skirt, lightly grazing your fabric-clad crotch, causing you to suck in a gasp. Joost chuckles at your reaction, his hand returning to the thin lace. Joost presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing slightly through your panties. The sensation is barely stifled by the fabric, his circular motions sending jolts through your entire body, each action only making you crave him more.

With each gentle rub you feel your arousal growing, the tight lace pressed against your hole growing damper by the second. You buck your hips forward, desperate to feel more of Joost.

"So impatient," He clicks his tongue.

"I think a year is long enough for me to wait," You sigh.

"What do you think Aggu?" The mention of his name has Aggu pulling away from your neck, "Should we make her wait any longer?"

"Nhn-nhn," Aggu's chin bumps against your cheek as he shakes his head in disagreement, "Give her what she wants." A breath of relief exits your lungs at Aggu's words, "I want to hear how pretty she sounds as you fuck her on your tongue."

"Can't argue with that," The pads of Joost's fingers finding their way to the crotch of your panties, swiftly pulling them to the side. The air that surrounds you is cold against your wetness, forcing you to clench around nothing. "Relax," Joost mumbles, "It's just me," head creeping forward toward your inner thighs.

A sudden kiss against your clit forces a sharp breath down your throat. Joost continues to tease with small kisses until his tongue flattens against you, licking through your soaked folds, the action completed by his lips capturing your swollen bud, lightly sucking.

His tongue was just as perfect as you had remembered it being, immediately forcing you to buck your hips forward to feel more of him. Joost is able to read your cues, pressing his tongue harder against you, his movements becoming more forceful as he continues to lick at your folds.

In the meantime, Aggu had returned his lips to your neck, continuing his pattern of biting and sucking. The sensation of both his and Joost's mouths working on such sensitive parts of your body is enough to make you worry about cumming entirely too prematurely.

Aggu's hands make their way around to your front, his large palms groping at your breasts, squeezing at the supple flesh. While one hand continues to palm at your tits, the other pinches the hardened surface of your nipple between his fingers. The feeling forces you to arch your back, pushing you further onto Joost's tongue. A strangled squeak is all that can escape your throat in response.

Joost's tongue laps at your slit with all the intent to bring you to orgasm as quick as possible, eager to give you just exactly what you want. But you're determined to make this moment last as long as possible, unsure of when the next time you would have the pleasure of being with two men such as Joost and Aggu at once would even be.

Still, your desperation to deny your orgasm for as long as you can, doesn't stop the way your legs shake under Joost's touch. His tongue so skillfully applying the perfect amount of pressure to where you need him most.

Joost momentarily stops his careful licks to fully press his mouth to you, once again letting his lips surround your clit, first softly kissing, then sucking at the sensitive nerves. Your hands find themselves tangled in Joost's hair, dancing between pulling at the strands, and pushing his head further down on you, begging him to apply even more pressure.

Joost presses his tongue to you once again, licking down to your aching hole, first teasing around it before dipping in. You groan at the sensation, hips bucking as you fuck yourself on Joost's tongue.

Aggu takes advantage of how low Joost's mouth is on you now, a hand trailing from your breast down to your mound. Careful to not get in Joost's way, he places a single finger to your clit, rubbing soft circles.

You cannot believe the pleasure you're feeling, unlike anything you had experienced before. Both Aggu and Joost seemed exceptionally skilled at what they were doing, as if they had known your body forever, knowing exactly what to do to push you closer and closer to the edge.

It's almost a struggle to keep your legs open, the only thing keeping your thighs parted was Joost's head between them. You don't know how much longer you can hold out, not with the way your entire body trembles with pleasure, both Joost and Aggu trying their absolute hardest to reach that state of bliss.

"You close, sweetie?" Aggu mumbles against your neck, the vibrations from his vocal cords sending shivers down your spine. You don't really even have to respond, not with the way your unrelenting moans speak for you. "It's okay, you can let go baby, I'm sure Joost would love to feel you cum against his tongue."

Aggu's words conflict you, wanting to cum for Joost's sake, but wanting to hold out for your own. Your eyes screw shut, knowing you won't be able to hold off much more.

Aggu's once-soft circles against your clit soon speed up, becoming rougher, all but begging you to cum for him and Joost. Your body is so tight, your pussy clenching around the warmth of Joost's tongue, with a final whimper you're sent over the edge, squirming in Aggu's gentle grasp as you reach your high.

"That's right," Aggu mumbles, sensing your orgasm, your body trembling above him. You cannot control the sounds that escape you, they're dirty, like something straight from a porn, except for you they were real, one hundred percent the result of Joost and Aggu's touch.

Your twitching begins to slow as your orgasm rolls over you, your breathing becoming labored, head falling back against Aggu's shoulder. Your legs quickly fall from their bent position, hanging off the bed once more when Joost finally removes his head from between your thighs.

Joost's glasses are fogged, and the most content look is pressed against his lips, which glisten from your release. His tongue glides over his glossy lips, before pulling in with a happy hum,

"Just as good as I remembered."

You need a moment, unable to speak as you catch your breath, slumped against Aggu's chest.

"Don't tell me you're tired out already," Aggu chastises.

"No," You sigh, your chest rising and falling rapidly, "Just need to catch my breath."

"Oh," Aggu whines, almost mocking, "Can you catch your breath while you get on your hands and knees for me, schatz."

You nod quickly, lifting yourself from Aggu's chest and rolling over, plopping stomach first on to the comforter. The mattress dips slightly as Aggu shifts positions before getting off the bed to stand behind you.

"C'mon," Aggu taps your ass, "You can get up."

Slowly, you rise up from your position laying flat on the bed, resting on your forearms you get onto your knees, arching your back, forcing your ass into the air.

"Good," Aggu muses, his hand smoothing over your ass, allowing himself a moment to ogle at the sight in front of him.

The mattress dips again, the movement drawing your curiosity, raising your head. Joost now shared the bed with you, shuffling to sit in front of you on his knees.

"Think you can take us both?" Aggu asks, the sound of metal snapping behind you, which you recognize as a belt buckle unclasping.

You swallow, head trailing up to look at Joost, his hands reaching for the buckle of his own belt. You blink a few times, processing the thought, both of them at once.

"It's just a simple yes or no schatje," Joost removes one hand from his belt to place his palm to the top of your head, lazily petting down your hair and to your cheek. You lean into his touch, nodding,

"Mhm," You hum, "Please." You arch your back a little more, head slipping down, leaving Joost's grasp.

Joost's eyes leave yours, flicking to where you presume Aggu is, giving him a nod.

"Okay," Aggu sighs, his hand settling at your waist, "Let Joost start first."

You continue to stare at Joost through heavy lashes, watching as his hands play with the large metal buckle of his belt. You bite the insides of your cheeks at the prospect of what's to come, Joost's fingers slowly slipping into the waistband of his jeans, then his boxers, pulling them down at the same time.

Your breathing loses its pace for a split moment as Joost's cock springs free from the confines of his clothing. He grips the base, palm slowly sliding up its length until he reaches the tip, his thumb circling the slit, spreading the small clear pearl of pre-cum around the soft pink flesh.

"Up on your hands, a little higher," Joost says, your current position so low on the bed making what he wanted to do impossible. Eager to take him in your mouth, you straighten your arms, resting the weight of the front half of your body in your palms. "Perfect," He mumbles, hips rocking forward until the tip of his cock reaches your lips.

You let your tongue slip forward, just barely parting your lips, licking the slit ever-so-slightly, gathering the salty taste of pre-cum in your mouth.

"Come on," Joost says sweetly, "Open those pretty lips," Guiding his cock with his hand on the shaft, he drags the tip over your lips, urging you to open up. You have no desire to tease him, simply lowering your jaw to take him into your mouth.

You let your lips capture the tip, sucking slightly, immediately making Joost groan before you've even taken him all the way in. His hips buck forward, pushing himself further into the warmth of your mouth. As he pushes into you, you point your tongue upward, licking a stripe against the vein that runs down the bottom of his cock.

He doesn't push all the way into you, stopping about three-fourths of the length of his cock before rocking his hips backward, pulling out of your mouth.

At the same time, Aggu's hands find themselves at the waistband of your skirt, slowly pulling it down to your mid thighs, your panties following shortly after.

Aggu mumbles something in German, but from the tone of his voice, you can assume whatever he had to say was good. His palms find there way to the back of your thighs, both his thumbs pressing against your cunt. The feeling of Aggu touching your already sensitive pussy causes you to whimper, sending vibrations down the length of Joost's cock as he pushes himself back into your mouth, making him mutter.

Using his thumbs Aggu spreads your folds, then running a single thumb through your arousal, teasing slightly. As his thumb just barely hovers over your entrance you instinctively rock back, wanting to feel him inside you.

"Joost was right, you are impatient." He teases, "Lucky for you, I can't wait any longer."

You're unable to respond, not as the most of the length of Joost's cock is down your mouth, tip teasing your throat. Both Joost and Aggu at once already felt all to overwhelming, and Aggu wasn't even inside of you yet.

You jolt forward once you feel the tip of Aggu's dick, slip through your folds, gathering your wetness. Your sharp movement forward forcing Joost further down your throat, causing you to gag and quickly pull back.

"Careful," Joost warns, "Don't need to take so much." Despite the dirty situation you're in, Joost's caution to keep you comfortable is oddly heartwarming, only urging you to want to pleasure him further.

With no warning from Aggu, he pushes into you, causing you to once again moan around Joost.

"Fuck," Aggu mumbles, already seeming content, with just the tip inside of you. With a strong grip on your waist, feeling like his fingers are about to bruise your soft skin, Aggu continues to push his hips forward, slowly allowing you to take him. Your eyes shut tight as you stretch around his length, your fingers gripping the comforter at the initial sensation.

Both you and Aggu let out a deep breath as he bottoms out into you, having finally adjusted to him. Just as slow as he pushed into you, Aggu rocks his hips back, pulling out, allowing you to feel all of him against your walls.

Aggu groans, "So good," He sighs, "Already is perfect, sweetie." He thrusts into you again, a little harsher this time now that you've adjusted to him. His thrusts push you further onto Joost's cock as he's attempting to pull out of you, causing Joost to pause for a moment, allowing each of their paces to adjust to match each other, so they aren't playing an awkward game of tug-of-war with your body.

After a few strokes each of them are able to synchronize with each other, both of them fucking into you, and pulling out at the same time.

Your knees are already weak, your wrists sore from the position you're holding yourself in. Every single sensation feels all too overwhelming, you could just collapse right then and there, into a trembling mess on the bed. Though you won't give up so easily, needing at the very least to be fucked by Joost too, no matter how bad you'll be squirming and whimpering under him.

Joost soon begins to lose pace with Aggu, his breathing becoming more present, his heaves in and out filling the room. You're sure he's going to be finishing down your throat any second, but in a move that surprises you, he entirely pulls out of your mouth with a final groan. The action forces you to look up at him, wondering why he had decided to stop. His lips are parted, glasses slipping down his nose as he looks down at you, you can see his eyes full of lust even through thick lenses.

You pout slightly, your gaze being enough of a question to prompt an answer from Joost,

"Focus on Aggu, liefje," He urges, chin cocking upward in Aggu's direction, "Didn't want to spoil my turn with you." His mouth quirks up in a smirk. Lazily, you nod, unable to even really think about that now, not as Aggu slams into you at a now more vigorous pace,

"Might get that turn soon," Aggu grunts, his tone indicating a clenched jaw and gritted teeth. The sound of Joost's breathing escapes your ears, now only able to focus on the filthy noises Aggu's movements produce. The sounds of your slick coating Aggu's cock with each thrust, the smacking of his hips to your ass, his low grunts and your strangled moans, it makes the booming music from downstairs sound like nothing more than a dull whisper.

Joost looks down at the two of you in amusement,

"You're so good," He beams, "She's good isn't she?" His question pointed towards Aggu

"Fucking perfect," He agrees, "So wet and warm," His palms tighten on your waist, "Pussy squeezing me just right."

You're drunk on their simple praises, and as Aggu's newfound grip on you only pulls you further back onto his cock, you're unsure of how much longer you'll be able to hold off. With each forward thrust Aggu hits the perfect spot inside of you, fucking you like he knew your body intimately.

"Aggu," You sigh, "I think-"

"Uh-uh." Aggu tuts, cutting you off, "You can't"

His small command is enough to almost bring tears to your eyes, unsure you could control your impending orgasm at all.

"I'm sure Joost would much prefer if you'd make a mess on him instead," Aggu coos, "Think about that, baby, could you hold on for him?"

You can't make any promises, but an unsteady hum of agreement leaves your lips, your fingers digging so hard into the comforter they ache.

"Don't worry," He breathes, "I'm almost there." The slaps of his thighs against yours losing a rhythm, his strokes becoming long and lazy. You're almost there too, and as you clench your jaw and shut your eyes you can only hope that he finishes quick enough that you don't have enough time to reach your orgasm.

And in almost an instant your wish is granted, Aggu reaching his orgasm with a drawn out groan. He stops thrusting, keeping himself bottomed out in you, his hips pressed right against your ass as he finishes into you, warm ropes of cum coating your walls. He can't keep his balance much longer, nearly folding over on top of you as his chest rises and falls against your back.

Your pussy clenches around him, aching at the now lack of stimulation. Aggu steadies himself, placing his hands on either side of you to relieve some of the weight on your back. As Aggu regains his composure he places small, slow kisses to your shoulders, before slowly lifting him self up.

You whimper as Aggu slowly pulls out of you, feeling his release drip down your folds.

"All yours," Aggu lets out a low chuckle, "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone once I catch my breath."

Lovebirds didn't exactly seem like an apt word for you and Joost now, but still the phrase brings a slight warmth to your cheeks.

Joost chuckles back, his palm finding your cheek,

"You need a minute?" He rubs soft circles to your lips with his thumb.

"N-no," You stutter out, truthfully, needing him as soon as possible. Despite Aggu stopping, you know the second Joost touches you'll be close again once more, and you're desperate for your orgasm.

"Okay" He whispers, "Get on your back, liefje. Lay against the pillows."

You let out a sigh of relief at Joost's preferred position, at least letting you relax into the bed. Your legs slightly confined by your clothing still pulled at your thighs, you slowly crawl up the bed, turning over to lean against the thick, surely unnecessarily expensive pillows.

You return your vision to Aggu once more who's slipping his belt back through the loops on his jeans, then ruffling a hand through his hair, his composure mostly regained by now. A large grin spreads against his face, "Enjoy your night." He winks towards the two of you, leaving the room.

"Is that Aggu's idea of playing matchmaker?" You let out a tiny laugh. Joost chuckles in return, furrowing his eyebrows,

"Yeah- I-uh think so. Is there a match here to be made?" Joost moves closer to you, a hand pressed against your thigh. His words make you tense,

"I don't know," You sigh, "Was pretty mean of you to ignore me when you got here tonight." You're half teasing, half serious.

"Ignore you?" He asks, an eyebrow raising.

You let your lip fall in an exaggerated pout, nodding.

"Oh," He whines, almost mockingly, "I'm sorry," He shakes his head, "I didn't hurt your feelings." His hand raises higher up your thigh, "Arme meisje." (Poor girl)

His patronization is sweet in an odd sort of way, knowing that beneath his mocking exterior he is actually apologizing for ignoring you.

"Let me make it up to you now, hm?"

"I'd like that." You breathe out, settling further onto the pillows.

Joost smirks, "I'll do that then," His hands finding the waistband of both your skirt and panties, slipping them down the rest of the length of your legs. Once the remainder of your clothes are discarded, Joost works on his own, pulling the white graphic t-shirt he wears slipping over his head. He's just as gorgeous as you remember, wanting nothing more than to feel every inch of his soft flesh. You marvel at his half-naked body, littered with tiny tattoos.

"Come here," You whine, needing him closer.

Joost obliges, leaning forward to hover over you, his hands placed on either side of your body. You're close enough to kiss him now, and you want to, straining your neck to life your head up so your lips can meet his. Joost gets the memo, saving you the strain and lowering his head just enough until your lips touch. You forego small pecks, immediately engaging him in a passionate kiss, one that only riles you up further. You can just barely taste yourself on his tongue, causing you to groan into this kiss as you steady yourself with your hands to push forward and deepen it. His lips are soft against yours, it feels good, you wonder briefly if it would be possible for him to make you cum just by kissing you,

The two of your are already so worked up, wordlessly agreeing to skip the teasing and foreplay as Joost taps your knee, urging you to bend your legs for him. You agree, getting a small glimpse of how sore your muscles will be tomorrow as you move your legs.

Joost breaks the kiss to sit up and watch as he lines himself up with your entrance. He's positioned between your legs, resting on his knees, grabbing the base of his cock.

"Ready?" He sighs, the tip sliding through your folds, causing your body to tremble, pussy fluttering. He only needs a nod from you to begin, pushing into you.

Immediately the pressure is building up inside of you, and with the way that Joost groans above you you know that neither of you are about to last particularly long.

Like Aggu, is first strokes are slow, getting you used to the way you stretch around him. Though it's hard to keep a slow pace as he slips against your walls, slick with a mixture of his saliva, your arousal, and Aggu's release. Soon enough his thrusts build up force, immediately pumping himself into that perfect spot inside you.

You're taken back to that first night the two of you hooked up, his prior experience with you only making him more skillful with his thrusts.

With the pace he builds up with his thrusts, his glasses slip all the way off his face, lightening the dirty moment with a small laugh from both of you as they land on your chest.

"Sorry," He chuckles. You grab the glasses from your chest, gently placing them beside you on the bed.

"Don't be," You grin, "Just a testament to how hard you're working."

And working hard he was, the both of you drinking in the sensation of each other.

"Fuck, liefje," He groans, "You're even better than I remember."

You have to admit you feel the same, as hard as you had tried in the last months to remember the sensation he brought you, nothing could top the real thing.

"Fuck how am I supposed to go back to the Netherlands without this." He cracks a small laugh.

"Guess you'll have to take me with you." You tease,

"Don't tempt me, baby. I'll have you on the next flight out there."

Your briefly imagine the prospect, it was hot, being reckless in such a way, leaving your whole life for some dick, though you couldn't put it past yourself.

With another stroke, your jaw clenches, your body suddenly feeling much tighter than before, a sharp sensation building between your thighs.

"I think I'm close," You're disappointed you aren't able to hold out much longer, but with all the anticipation of the night, you can't exactly blame yourself.

"Good," He exhales, "Good, that's okay, make a mess on my cock baby. I'm close too."

You cannot deny him of that, not when he clearly wants it so bad. His thrusts become more pointed as he reaches his orgasm, they're sharp, and small, barely taking the time to pull out by any substantial length before shoving himself back inside of you. He leans forward a little more, hitting into you at a new angle, the base of his cock dragging against your clit as he pulls out. The newfound sensation is enough to throw you over the edge with ease.

A few pathetic curses leave your mouth, before your vision starts to blur, your orgasm gripping control of your entire body, dulling all of your other senses.

"I'm cumming- fuckfuck." You whine, your pussy beginning to spasm around the length of Joost's cock, gripping him just right to send him into orgasm.

"Shit," He grits, "Me too," His movements sloping entirely as his release starts to pour into you.

Your body trembles under him, tingling with complete and utter pleasure as the two of you both ride out your highs, uncontrollable smiles plastered on both of your faces.

With a few final pumps Joost collapses on top of you, trying his best to keep the full weight of his body off of your chest. Though the weight of him on top of you is comforting, especially as you wrap around your arms around him, his naked flesh sticky with sweat. Despite him being inside of you, you still desire to feel him closer.

A familiar feeling creeps into you, one you cannot tell if it is good or bad, but you know tonight will only force the crush you had developed on Joost in the last year to become more insatiable. You had gotten lucky tonight with Aggu deciding to get between the two of you, but now you needed to figure out on your own how you could possibly make him yours.

"So," You sigh, "Still willing to be my tour guide?"

[xoxosimp]

Element of Surprise

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Synopsis: After everything that went wrong today, there is no way Bucky is proposing…. Right?

Warnings: fluff, feels, reader is implied to have curly hair, soft bucky is a warning, no description of body parts but reader is called beautiful, and referred to as a wife

A/N: this is part two of this fic. Beta read by @h4miltonsbabe , but all mistakes are my own. 

~~~~~~~~~

It was always interesting seeing Bucky mad. He never really showed anger towards you, not you two didn't go without any fights, but he always kept his composure . Bucky rarely raised his voice at you, not that you've haven’t overheard him yelling at his “business associates” over the phone. He never raised a hand to you, even though he’s come home to you with bruised knuckles. 

But this particular mad: his jaw was clenched, the hand that rested on his thigh held the fabric of the couch in his fist .Usually when you’re cuddling up to him, all the tension in his body would evaporate. Not this time. 

Your day with Bucky wasn’t great.

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong today, went wrong. Bucky’s been planning your anniversary for months. All he needed from you was to show up and look beautiful, as you always do. 

What he didn't need was for the weather channel to be wrong, ruining your blowout with the rain. Your curls reverted back to their natural state, running two hours of blow drying and fussing with your hair. Bucky thought you still looked beautiful. 

What he didn't need was for the florist to be out of your favorite flowers and your favorite bagel spot ( which is in another city) to be closed the day of your anniversary. And that set the theme  for the entire day.

What he did not need was your favorite restaurant to double-book your table on the rooftop. When the hostess told him they had accidentally double-booked, Bucky looked like he wanted to explode. Honestly, he did.

“I need to speak to your manager,” he huffed. The poor hostess scrambled away like a mouse, leaving your boyfriend fuming. 

Part of you thinks he’s going a little overboard, considering this was a mistake you could easily made yourself. But you know he wanted today to be perfect for you. That's how he wants everything to be for you.

“Bucky,” you grabbed his shoulder so he could face you, “ Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Light-”

“It was an innocent mistake, Jamie. Imagine if I was the hostess and some rich, billionaire loser had nothing better to do than yell at me?”, you stated, knowing you had him there.

Bucky cracked a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, “Are you calling me a loser, light?”

“You are a loser if you berate that poor hostess even more! Besides, if you take someone else’s table you could ruin their anniversary.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration, “ What do you wanna do then, light?”, deep down he felt guilty, knowing he had unleashed his anger about not this particular mistake, but of all of today’s mishaps on the poor hostess. 

“Go somewhere else,” you smiled. “There are hundreds of restaurants in New York, I’m sure one of them has an open table.” 

After the manager profusely apologized for the error, Bucky slipped a hundred-dollar bill to the hostess and grumbled, “Don’t let it happen again.” 

Usually all it took was a snap of his fingers and his command and anything Bucky wanted was his (and by proxy, you). But even criminal kingpin’s are victims of circumstance, sometimes. 

You turned to look at Bucky and pinched his cheek. “ Is something wrong, Bucky?”

He shrugged, Bucky’s eyes not leaving the movie playing in front of him. He’s pouting.

“ I had a great day,” you pondered, “ I had a burger from Margarita’s and….” 

“It was supposed to be perfect!,” he said, slightly raising his voice. “ All of fucking days there are suddenly no more flowers or-”

“Jamie,” you touched his chest, snapping him out of his rage. “It’s not a big deal,” you giggled.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “You think this is funny, light?” 

“I know today didn’t go according to plan, but I’m just happy that we spent the day together. I mean, thanks to the heavens, my boss let me have a day off.”

If he hadn’t, Bucky would have ‘suggested’ to him to let you have the day off. .

“Even though I didn't get any flowers, any bagels, or dinner on a rooftop, I think I’d rather have none of that than my hair getting ruined. It took me two hours to blow dry my hair!”

Bucky let out a chuckle. “I just wanted it to be perfect,” he reiterated somberly. 

“It was perfect.” You know Bucky would move mountains to make you happy. Today proved that very fact. “ But I got to spend the day with you. How can I be sad about that?”

Damn, could you be any more perfect? Everything went to shit, yet you still look at him like he handed you the moon on a silver platter.

“I’m gonna’ get water,” you stood up from the couch and walked to the kitchen.

“It’s actually kinda funny how everything went south today,” you shouted, grabbing a bottle of water from the shelf. 

“How’s that, light?”

“Because I thought you were going to propose.” Bucky stayed quiet. 

“I mean, hello, you told me to do my hair, do my nails, you told me to dress up really nice,” you rambled, “when you tell someone to get all dolled up and you have an extravagant day planned, it’s a classic sign that you’re proposing.”

You plopped next to Bucky, “ Which means you don't have the element of s-” You looked at him, holding a ring box with a beautiful princess cut diamond with a solitaire gold band in the middle. Were your hands sweaty or was that the condensation from the water bottle? 

Bucky adjusted himself so he can face you with a soft smile on his lips. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. “ I can’t imagine waking up everyday and not having you by my side. You’re the light of my life. You make every one of my dark days better with your presence. I want to be there with you when you have your good, bad, and dark days.”

Bucky thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. If it did, he would hand it to you. “Will you marry me?”

Tears were flowing down your face like a waterfall. You wanted to break out into song and dance, jump off of a building without any fear, you wanted this. You wanted him.

You nodded, swiping your tears, “ Yes! I’ll marry you!”  You smashed your lips on top of his, as if not another moment could be wasted. Bucky kissed you back with just as much vigor, but pulled away. “ Let me put the ring on you, Light!” he exclaimed.

He took the ring out of the box and slid it onto your ring finger. It was a perfect fit. “ I can’t wait to marry you, Jamie.”

“ I can’t wait till you’re my wife, light.” 

[trumpkinhotboy]

prank war | p.l

pairing. paul lahote x reader

type. requested <3

warnings. curse word?

word count. 1.4k

a/n. since i don't like writing summaries lmao, i think i will make it kind of official when writing requests that if you want to know what it will be about click the link to the request :) this was so fun to write this is def crack BAHA i hope you will enjoy mwah xx

"Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Absolutely positive."

"But what if-"

"Em," you gave your friend a severe look. Emily always tended to be too kind, but this you could not let her sensitive nature make your plan fail. "Might I remind you that we are cruelly losing this battle of pranks? Jared, Embry, and Quil have been launching us. This is our time to make a stand."

"I know but… I still feel a little bit bad about it."

"Do you remember when they put confetti absolutely everywhere in the house? We had to clean that mess for weeks. I think there is still some confetti on my body in places where there shouldn't be."

Emily was a neat freak, she did not tolerate any mess. You knew how she hated that particular prank and how it would be an easy way to rile her up. You smiled when you saw her gaze suddenly turn very dark and resolute. Bulls eyes. Without further questioning, she joined you.

Your plan for retaliation was quite simple, but you knew it would hit your enemies right where it hurt. After a few internet searches, you settled on baking the most horrible and foul muffins known to the human realm. The boys were huge eaters so first, you knew they could never resist the temptation of a hot basket of muffins. Second, they were all known for their sensitive stomachs. It was a classic yet very effective prank. You looked like mad scientists incorporating literally any ingredients possible into the mixture giving it a strange color.

"I don't think it can get worse than that," declared Emily as you looked at the finished product.

You examined the bowl on the counter, feeling like you were missing an essential element. "Wait! There's one more thing we can add."

You went over to the pantry and proudly held up the bottle of extra spicy sauce the boys were keeping for special occasions, aka when they wanted to burn from the inside out.

Emily applauded your genius and watched excitedly as you dropped some in the mixture, then some more, and just a tiny bit more until you had poured at least one table cup of hot sauce into the bowl. If the original mixture didn't make them sick, this would for sure.

"This is a work of art Em, we can be proud of ourselves."

You high-fived and rapidly cooked the muffins before the boys returned from their run.

Your opponents were werewolves, with incredible sense of smell. So you knew you had to be smart about it. Especially since they knew a prank might fall upon them at any given moment. You had planned everything to a T. When returning home, Quil, Jared, and Embry were usually the ones who came in first, which you counted on as you didn't want to prank the rest of the pack. Emily had smartly accounted for the boys' suspicion and made sure to bake two safe-to-eat muffins from the batch so you could fool the three guys into eating.

You made sure to use food coloring to give the muffins a rich brown color and sprinkled cinnamon along with a few other herbs on the muffins to make sure they would smell mouth-watering. You cleared away any hint of your actions and did it so well that when the boys arrived, no one could ever think something was going on.

You welcomed them joyfully with your best angelic smiles. As expected, it didn't take them long to notice the muffins, Quil even going as far as reaching out a hunger-crazed hand towards the bowl.

"Wait," suddenly cut Embry with a suspicious look in your direction. He slapped his brother's hand away. "What's the special occasion?"

Like professional actresses, you and Emily looked at each other. "Since when do we need special occasions to bake muffins?"

You rolled your eyes when Embry bent down to take a big whiff from the basket, but still lost a relieved breath when he didn't seem to smell anything out of the ordinary.

"Why aren't you two eating any?" skeptically asked Jared.

"Because we ate so much filling we might puke but if it reassures you I don't mind taking a bite."

You reached your hand out for Emily to pick the safe muffins from the basket and prayed she didn't mix them up. You leveled your stare at the boys and took a huge bite.

When the cinnamony and chocolate flavors hit your tongue you sighed with relief, putting your reaction on account of the amazing taste. "Delicious as always."

Your performance seemed to reassure them but they didn't grab any yet. Anxiousness rose in your body, you needed to get them to eat before the others came in.

They were still hesitating when Paul barged in, quickly kissed you on the cheek, and grabbed a muffin.

"Paul wait-" "Gonna take a shower," he muffled between chewing.

You stare at the doorway through which he disappeared, astonished. It happened so fast. You couldn't have warned him or else the other three would have known something was up. You turned to look at Emily with panic in your eyes. Her face was blank, her hands gripping the counter. Both of you were paralyzed, what should you do? Were you taking it too far by letting your boyfriend eat the nasty mixture just so you wouldn't raise suspicions?

You stayed paralyzed in the dilemma when finally Embry, Quil, and Jared each grabbed a muffin as you and Emily stared in silence.

They had eaten a good half of it when suddenly you heard Paul screaming and cursing in the bathroom. Everybody looked in the direction of the sound when he stumbled in already wet from the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS IN THESE?"

Immediately, the three other boys looked at each other, then at you two. As if Paul's apparition had triggered the effect of the baked goods, sweat started dripping down their face, a disgusted rictus twisting their mouths.

They stared with horrified expressions. "What did you do?" asked Embry before he ran for the kitchen sink.

Even if you felt guilty Paul had been caught in the crossfire you couldn't help but feel a deep satisfaction as you stared at the three boys pushing each other and fumbling to get a sip of water. A sentiment clearly shared by your partner in crime when Emily said with an innocent smile. "What did we do? We baked you some yummy muffins of course. Isn't that right Y/n?"

"Why yes, we even added a few special ingredients to make sure you guys loved them." You added with a mischievous smile towards the three crying grown men still fighting for access to fresh water.

"That'll teach you right for putting confetti everywhere in MY house," finished Emily, leaning close to them.

They looked at her with what was sure to be fear in their eyes.

"I'm done I'm calling dibs on the bathroom sink," moaned Quil as he ran for the tiny room.

"I'm taking the hose outside!" cried out Jared.

Emily and you couldn't keep your cool from your devastating victory and started dancing around the kitchen, the grunts of pain in the house the most delicious melody to your ears. You were still laughing when you heard heavy steps enter the kitchen. Paul was standing in the doorway, still wet, still with a towel on but this time there was a half-drunk milk cartoon in his hands. A few droplets slid down his chest and the view might have even been appealing if the expression on his face wasn't so terrifying.

He took a step in your direction. "Baby I promise you weren't supposed to eat one of those. It was only for them. I'm so sorry!!"

"You could have warned me, tell me to stop,” he growled.

"But then they would have known. I'm so so sorry my love I promise I'll make you forgive me."

You kept walking back, hands up. Never a half-naked man had scared you this much.

"Oh, you will definitely pay for this." He dropped the milk on the table nearby. "And I think we will start by giving you a little swim in the cold sea."

"Paul it's freezing outside today!!" You protested with a panicked look towards the foggy forest.

"Should have thought about that before sweetheart.”

His lips curved in a diabolical smile as he leaped. You screeched and ran outside knowing damn well there was no way you could escape this.

[henneseyhoe]

Milk Marie

Unique x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: unprotected seggs(wrap before you tap!), dirty talk, after care, soft(ish)!Unique, pussy whipped!Unique, kinda short, das it(I think)

SUMMARY: Unique figures if he can’t get over her, he’ll get under her instead.

✮Prompt✮

✮✮✮✮

Girl, I want everything that come with you. Even if you got stretch marks and even two children. I can’t blame you, girl.

It seemed like he always ended back up here. Right here. In this bed. With this woman. Wrapped up in her sheets with his hands touching all the parts only the luckiest of men got the pleasure of even seeing. He swore they were meant to be, and she almost thought so too. He treated her so well, like the beauty she was, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

They had known each other since the sandbox, his mother always offering to watch her while her mother was at work and since that first time they met, they were connected at the hip.

No matter if they fell out and swore to stop fuckin’ with each other, they always ended right back together. No matter how many times she attempted to leave, he’d just find her again.

He hoped by the last time she left he’d be too tired of her bullshit to follow after her, but he was more resilient than he thought, and withdrawals are a muthafucka. Now he knows how the people he serves feel.

That first taste he had of her? It was like a babies first lick of sugar, addiction waiting to happen. The first time he came was like floating in outer space with no destination or desire to be anywhere else. And as ironic as it was, she looked innocent on her knees for him.

Her mouth worked its way down on him until the tip of her nose touched his stomach and her eyes began to water, her throat capturing his entire length. With no problem, she bobbed her head up and down on him, her mouth so sloppy that spit escaped from her lips and trailed down to his balls, making him shudder.

She took her hand and began spreading the spit around his heavy sack, massaging as she felt him throb in her mouth, the taste of precum already being prevalent on her tongue. He occupies his hands and digs his fingers into the couch cushions, knowing that she would stop and he’d be fucked if he reached for her freshly done silk press that was wrapped in a silk scarf, secure for those rough times.

Flashes of white appeared behind his eyes like stars as that familiar pull in the bottom of his stomach appeared once again, a warm sense of feeling covering his body as he came down her throat for the first time in months since he found out where she had been hiding. Which just ended up being her childhood home in the city over.

It took unique all but a mere few seconds to recover before he was pulling her up from her knees and into his strong hold, giving her that kiss of death before he got to doing his own damage. As he stood from the couch with no care about the jeans and belt still around his thighs, their tongues danced together in sync. Unique could taste every bit of both of them on her tongue, but he was never one to fuss about kissing after head if it was with her. He welcomed it if anything.

Tossing her body onto the bed, he takes a second to admire how the room hadn’t changed one bit since she became an adult. A doll house sat in the corner with dolls still inside, a memory of the last time she had played with them. Teddy bears that had eventually fallen off the bed when she was sat. Pink walls with brown, white, and gold for the future. A color pallet reminding him of something else in particular.

✮✮✮✮

“Nique~” She moaned sweetly, her hands gripping the sheets underneath her as the man above her pushed his hips onto her ass, his piece sinking into her ever so slowly. The stretch was always the same, the thickness of him leaving a burning sensation at her entrance the more he pushed into her, but it only stayed for a few seconds as she adjusted to his size, which was nothing average.

The thrusts were sensual and loving until he leans up off of her and pulls out just a bit further than usual, giving her the room to pull her ass up in the air and put a perfect arch in her back. She began bouncing herself back onto him, gaining speed and momentum as he meets her ass with his hips.

“Oh fuck..” He groans quietly.

His eyes were trained on the motions of her soft skin jiggling with every collide of their bodies. His thrusts only got harder from there, segments of moans falling from the girls lips. He didn’t even have to tell her how wet she was, the squelching sounds erupting from where they connected told her all she needed to know.

Switching the angle of his thrusts, he places one knee onto the bed and leans into her, his hands placed in the middle of her back just to make sure she wouldn’t be able to run from the lethal position. And running, she did not do, couldn’t do because of how he was holding her. Suddenly the bed dipped under them both with the strong force of his thrust making her collapse on her stomach, leaving the girl breathless after calling out to the highest one she worshipped.

“You feel that, baby? I’m in it?” He asks with his breathing unsteady, his balls tightening and her toes curling.

“Yes, Nique!”

She was in shambles trying to keep up with him. She could feel the tip of his dick pressing against her g spot, constantly slamming into it like a button, like he’d get some kind of prize if he pushed it correctly. He fucked her so hard, sweet compliments being the only things that contradicted the rough strokes. She could hear the belt buckle of his pants jingling around his ankles, remembering that they had barely been undressed fully before Unique got impatient and just shoved his pants down and her nightgown up before pushing her to her knees.

As Unique continued on with damn near breaking this girls childhood bed, he thought to himself. This was the pussy that niggas killed for. The type pussy that’d have you bussing back to back without a second thought about a condom. This was the pussy he thought about on those lonely nights when she was mad at him, when he had to take matters into his own hands and desperately jerk himself off, his mouth agape and muscles flexing as he cums all over his stomach to the beautiful thought that was her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She whimpers. At this point she could feel him poking at her stomach and being pressed against the mattress helped nothing. He would probably fuck her through the cushion if he could.

“Uh-huh. Cum on this dick, Princess. Lemme feel you wet this dick up, show me how good I make this pussy feel” He spoke, punching nothing but a thick 9 inch pole into her spine. The man gave her no choice but to scream and give him exactly what he wanted, which was her release.

✮✮✮✮

Between her thighs were messy and wet, coated with a layer of white cream that was from both of them. Unique gently wiped her down with a wet towel, careful not to swipe over her sensitive clit too fast or harsh.

“Shhh—“ She hissed, her thighs almost closing in on his hand. Unique’s eyes flickered from her core up to her expression. “My bad” He simply apologized before tossing away the dirty rag in a hamper next to the bed. Laying next to her on his back, he sighs. “you gon’ learn to stop running from what you love”

She smiles, turning her head to look at the side of his face, getting a view of that nearly perfect profile. “Who says I love you, Unique?”

He smirks. “I don’t need a second opinion on a fact”

And the cycle continues…

✮✮✮✮

Woke up and remembered I forgot the taglist chile! LMFAO(some tags aren’t showing up, dk why!)

🏷️ @thatone-girly @notapradagurl7 @swavydadon @miyahmaraj @planetblaque @msinterlude @milkiboo @bloodripleygal @stevelacyballs @naj-ay444 @blackelysian @shaolyninferno

[chrattenthusiast]

Hate— Matthew sturniolo smut

(not proof read )

authors note 💌 — this is my FIRST time writing smut on this app so please forgive me for this 😔 with that being said I will be taking requests if my account actually reaches ANYONE. It’s kinda long and a little bit angsty but if you like that AND a good old enemies to lover trope (but without the love part!?) this is for you!!!

WARNINGS: nsfw, sexual content, minors dni!!!!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You and matt never had a strong connection. The dynamic of your interactions with him were unclear, you couldn’t comprehend why the blue-eyed man barely acknowledged you, except during heated arguments where nick served as a mediator or the instances where you found yourself under him late at night

On this particular night, you patiently waited until the clock struck 3 a.m. before quietly slipping out of Nick's bed. It didn't seem to matter that Nick could sleep through anything, even an apocalypse.

You then made your way to Matt's bed and lightly tapped on the door three times."

the door swings open and before you could even mutter a sentence, Matt pulls you into the room, shutting the door and slamming you against it.

“you’re late” he says

“ That’s rich coming for a man that begs like a little subby bit-“

you are instantly cut off as matt smashes his lips onto yours. he deepens the kiss letting it get a little too heated, moments later you feel his tongue against yours

“open” he mumbles

you instantaneously obey even though matt was the number 1 person on the list of people you hated, you always caught yourself following his instructions

he grips your jaw, forcing your mouth to open slightly, taking the opportunity– he spits into your mouth

“swallow it like the slutty bitch you are ”

you feel yourself pool after those words leave his lips

matt decided to play it safe by moving down to your neck leaving small kisses

you don’t trust yourself to urge him to go quicker but matt gets the memo when a groan of frustration leave your mouth —he reaches inside your pants running a finger between your folds

“ interesting, you sure get wet so fast for the person you hate ”

“can we move this to the bed cause i do not have a problem getting dick from someone else ”

his hands clutch the flimsy tank top you have on and pulls it over to your head, lifting you up with ease

he walks over to his neatly made and tosses you to the bed smiling maliciously as he watches you bounce on his bed, his eyes dilating more as he watches your chest bounce

he moves onto your sweatpants tossing it somewhere across the room putting his undivided attention onto your underwear, he takes it off slowly knowing it would get under your skin.

Getting frustrated you start to groan, and in a split second he shoves your panties into your mouth

giving you a deadpan look, “ since you have a hard time keeping quiet “ he says

before further protesting, he shoves two fingers into you instantly groaning at how wet you are for him

he liked that, the idea that no one else could satisfy you, he thinks that he’d rather have you hate him knowing you’d always end up in his bed late at night and not in the comfort of another man.

His lips envelop your clit, and your head falls back involuntarily. He sucks it, and you’re greatful that the black lace in your mouth kept you from letting out the loudest moan of your life.

mixtures of whimpers, leave your mouth as your eyes start to tear up with how overwhelming it all is, “my cry baby, he whispers

you start tossing and moving around due to how stimulated you are.

matt holds you down as he circles his tongue around your clit sucking hard but pumping his fingers in and out of you roughly just how you like it. seconds later you feel yourself squirting but he doesn’t hault , you reach out to grab his arm but he stops you mid way

“i’m not done with you yet” he whispers

he takes off his sweatpants, pulling the panties out of your mouth.

he flips you over on all fours and you find yourself face to face with the mirror against his wall

you feel his tip against your folds and you find yourself unconsciously backing up towards him. he instantly slides into you filling you up, you feel your eyes shut racked with pleasure –when matt grabs your jaw.

“ no i need you to look at yourself for me yeah?, look away and i’ll stop.”

you immediately make eye contact with him and that’s when he smiles “you’re always such a good girl for me, taking me so well ”

he picks up the pace of his thrusts, fighting himself to not cum cause you felt so intoxicating — he would never admit that to you he was terrified with the thought of you pushing him away if he ever admitted that he felt anything else but hate towards you

he would rather argue with you all day than loose you. he didn’t like the thought of you with anyone else but him– sure it was selfish but he didn’t care he loved that you were always ready for him down the hallway every time you were over.

you gasp as you feel him pull you to his chest feeling him sink deeper, he wraps his arms around your torso forcing you to take every inch he gave you

in that moment you’re his, you don’t care about the insults you throw at each other, it’s almost like everything he did was perfect?

“im so close please don’t stop “ you whimper

“ i know baby” “ you wanna come for me ?” he says looking at you through the mirror hitting ever perfect spot, giving you tender kisses on along the nape of your neck

you lost the ability to form a sentence as he thrusts gets rougher all of a sudden remembering how you teased him about getting involved with another man

“answer me “

“yes please “ you say not caring how stupid you sound or the fact that he’d use this against you in the mere future

“ you still feel like getting dick from someone else?”

“no” you reply instantly

“no one can ever make you feel like thid , can they pretty?”

“no i swear please i can’t-”

“can’t what ? “ he mocks you

“you can’t take it ?”

“ i think you can ”he encouraged

“take it for me baby”

you continue to meet his hard thrusts working yourself even though all you want to do is come around the man you hate the most

“ atta girl, look at yourself, so pretty taking every inch of me”

he reaches down your folds, circling your senstive clit pushing you further towards the climax, you feel yourself coming he presses his hands against your mouth muffling your screams

whispering sweet nothings into your ear

“that’s it , let it all out for me baby

he begins to groan as he feels himself reaching his climax, not trusting himself either he grabs your neck giving you a harsh kiss. as he releases himself inside you

you collapse against him as pleasure consumes the both of you

he runs his finger against the knots of you hair

“you okay “ he whispers

nodding your head as you couldn’t mutter a single sentence.

he smiles at you, gently wiping the fallen tears from your eyes, he looks down at the both of you connected,

his eyes trained at his dick swallowed by your tight folds, cautiously pulling out — refusing to give you a break you feel his fingers at the entrance of your swollen cunt, not letting his cum slip out. you open your mouth to gasp but you are met with a gentle kiss.

he moves to grabs his boxers putting them on you feeling a sinking weight of disappointment in your chest.

you start to look for your materials he trashed around his room thinking that it was time for you to leave when hault your actions when he speaks suddenly “what are you doing ?”

“leaving ” you reply monotonously

“ sit down, i’m running you a bath ”

this was an unusual for you, you were used to men giving you the cold shoulder after a round of intimacy

you try your best to ignore the weird feeling that bubbles in your chest— secretly enjoying his civility towards you, knowing that the next day everything would go back to the way things always were — leaving a bitter taste of unresolved emotions in the air.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

@mattsd0ll @loveesiren @christinarowie332 @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @mangosrar @kenzieiskoolaid @lucvly @recklesssturniolo

[cokoweee]

OH wow! Two updates in 24 hours! Okay I really wanted to dig into this, because there were so many things on just the writing and dialogue and I LOVE it!

These two panels were fun, because there is something soft in Kendra’s face. Nostalgia, affection…also the wet beads of water coming off her hair, since she climbed out of the bath….but I’ll continue this rant later…

This is interesting….We have seen Donnie borderline catatonic so this could be Draxum’s latent parental instincts not wanting to push Donnie just yet. (Or worried that Kendra might be a trigger?)

Though funny that this was what pushed Casey to reach out….I included a snippet from Replica…but…lol both you and Kat having Casey very particular about her male family members helping her out, is understandable

Heh…that’s rich, considering you are gonna have your own lizard children Kendra…not that you know that, I guess… Still this feels like a “tempting fate” line/foreshadowing. Mostly, because Casey insisted that the father is human. (I think?) But likely a jab at how Kendra calls her “Beast” all the time.

Ohhh…what is this trinket?! <_<

This is the face of someone who is either gonna pretend to be a toy or a child if Kendra gets pulled over XD

Okay this brings me back to my thoughts after the first image…Kendra likely had been thinking about stuff since her initial talk while fixing Yuichi’s arm the first time. However the “event” and Raph’s chat with her possibly had her start really mulling over it. We know Kendra has been struggling with her identity in the way of not belonging. She accepted she was an outcast…and possibly still considers herself an outcast. However with everything she has been doing: the training, modifying the jetpack, upgrading Yuichi’s arm…it certainly is setting this precedence. If Kendra doesn’t fit in this group’s mold by default, she is gonna make some changes so she does.

The past Kendra would never adjust to accommodate others. She is unapologetically herself. So why is she going through the trouble to make little changes…why does she want to properly ask Donnie if she can stay with him? Because when you love someone, you accommodate them. And not in the way, that you should change yourself for someone. However if there are traits that are holding you back, and it benefits you both in the long run, sometimes little changes are necessary. Kendra is changing, because she wants this. She may not know how her dynamic will change, but she wants it to get better.

And…I forget how I planned to wrap this up, but…. It is an organic way to bring happily ever after that much closer, and in a way that doesn’t compromise Kendra’s identity. Again, your writing and dialogue are amazing, and the way you pair it with your drawings makes some great storytelling.

Oof writing is such a struggle but considering I do hours of acting out dialogue both irl and in my head certainly do help. NOW TO ANSWER SOME OF THESE LIL SNIPPETS U SEPERATED but under a cut cause this is a bit long lol

Draxum is a weird dude to write for me but for me he’s another that lost almost his whole fam. He doesn’t wanna risk losing the last one that’s there even if they aren’t how they once were.

CASEY NOT WANTING DRAXUM ALL UP IN HER 🍰 IS A REAL! ITS LIKE UR GRANDPA/DAD/UNCLE SAYING THEYLL DO IT FOR YOU

That lil TrInkEt will be helpful later :D (I think. Please I haven’t fully thought this plan through)

You point out that she never would accommodate for someone else and yuh you’re right. Bitch would make others accommodate to her. This tho

“Because when you love someone, you accommodate them”

Idk how to word this, it’s pretty difficult to conjure up in my head words for this. For her it’s. She can’t see those feelings. Define them. It’s a case of extra caring without knowing why and it’s irritating. Like a fly u can’t kill. Or a butterfly. Pretty and you don’t want it to leave but also don’t want that big bitch flying all up in your face

[navybrat817]

The Red Woods

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve tells you a story as he keeps you warm by the fire. Word Count: Over 2.7k Warnings: Implied sex, spooky story (violence), attempted scare, humor, Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #5 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense belongs to Lumberjack!Steve thanks to this poll winner. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The moon and stars lit up the night sky, beckoning you to go outside and bask in the beauty. Cold settled into your bones as you stepped outside and shivered. It was chillier than you expected and you debated going back into the comfort of the cabin. Steve had already started the bonfire nearby though and you knew the heat from the flames would warm you up.

So would your lumberjack.

Steve carried an extra load of wood from the shed as you walked toward the fire. He set up a spot for you to sit beside each other, but you had a feeling he'd have you in his lap as the night went on. He liked having your body close to his, whether it was after a long day of work or coming home after a mission. You enjoyed it, too, because he enveloped you with his love.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, catching the slight tremble in your body as you took a seat. "When I suggested the fire, I didn't think it would be this cold."

"It's okay," you assured him as he added another log to the fire. The rich and powerful scent from the smoke soothed you as you stared into the flames. "But what made you so adamant to have one tonight?"

"No particular reason," he replied casually, wiping his hands before he sat down beside you. It was a bit too casual, but the red and orange from the flames dancing along his face distracted you. The urge to reach up and touch his beard was strong. "Wasn't something I really got to do in the city."

Part of you would always love the city. So would Steve. There was always something to do and inspiration could be found around every corner. It didn't mean it was home though. It was a place to visit, to remember. Your place in the woods with each other was where you were meant to be.

And the love of your life provided plenty of inspiration if you ever needed it.

"I don't remember ever having a fire there," you said after thinking about it. There weren’t many places to have fires. Your old apartment didn’t even have a fireplace.

"Hardly ever saw the stars," he added.

You nodded a little, your fingers scratching along his chin. If your touch was too cold, he didn't make a big deal out of it. "I didn't really get to appreciate the stars from my old apartment either," you said, tilting your head to look up at the sky. "But out here? It's like they serenade us. It's a chorus that resonates with the moon until the sun comes up."

Steve wrapped an arm around you, allowing your body to heat up more. He was your own personal heater. "Even when you're not writing, your words are beautiful."

You couldn't blame the fire or his body for the heat that filled your face. His opinion on your writing meant the world to you. "You're just saying that to get in my pants," you teased.

He chuckled as his mouth moved close to your ear. "I already did that this morning," he whispered.

You exhaled, remembering the two of you tangled up in each other. Lazy, soft kisses and lingering touches as he made love to you. His large body pinning yours to the mattress, his hips thrusting in a slow rhythm like the gentle waves of an ocean. You nearly sobbed when you came, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he quickly followed.

You had lovers before Steve, but he taught you the true meaning of making love.

"And I'm sure you'll do it again before the sun comes up," you whispered.

"If I have my way," he said, pulling you closer. Your hand fell to his shirt, gripping the flannel. Your super soldier was insatiable some days, but you weren't going to complain when you both reaped the benefits of his appetite.

"It's too bad the gang isn't here. Otherwise we could tell spooky stories," you said. Maybe you could invite Bucky and Jewel over another night for dinner. It was nice that Steve had one of his best friends not too far away. Sam also didn’t mind making trips to visit.

"Well, you and I can still tell stories to pass the time," he said, kissing the top of your head. "How about I start? Even though I’m not the best storyteller."

“That’s a lie. You’re a great storyteller,” you said, lifting your head and seeing a hint of a blush in his cheeks. With his deep, commanding voice, the man could read the phone book to you and you'd listen. You teased at times that he could do a podcast if he wanted to. Or erotic recordings. "And I don't scare easily, but you can try."

You didn’t mind a healthy dose of fear now and again. It was natural and helpful in some situations. It was also fun and exciting in the right setting, like this.

"I'm sure you've heard all sorts of different stories about creatures and spirits who live in the woods," he began, which earned a nod from you. "Local legend says there's a spirit right here who controls part of the forest: The Lumberman."

"Wow. A lumberjack is telling a story about a lumberman? How original," you said, your deadpan expression dropping when he pinched your side. "Hey! I was kidding."

"Let me tell the story," he said, brushing his lips against the top of your head again as an apology. "They say long ago that a lumberman lived in the deepest part of the woods. He had no family or friends and mostly kept to himself. He only ventured into town to sell the wood he chopped down."

"A loner," you said, already invested.

"Yeah, he was. Not unfriendly. Just a quiet man. And all was well until a local woman went missing. The town searched everywhere for her and couldn't find her. It was like she vanished without a trace. Her family demanded answers, so people shifted the blame to him," Steve explained, a slight breeze rolling by.

You frowned as you listened. It was just a story, but you knew how dangerous mob mentality could be. "What happened?"

"A group of men confronted him in his home and demanded to know what he did with her body. He swore he didn't know what happened and that he would never hurt a soul, but they didn't listen. They were out for blood,” he said, sadly shaking his head. “When he still refused to admit to any wrongdoing, the men took turns hacking him up with one of his axes and burned his cabin to the ground. They even brought the axe back as some sort of trophy, stained with his blood."

"Jesus," you whispered, scooting a bit closer.

"It was only after they killed him did the girl show back up in town alive and well. Not a scratch on her. She had gone a couple towns over to meet up with some guy," he said, rubbing your arm.

"So they condemned an innocent man to death," you said.

"They did," he said, nodding toward the trees. "Most of the townspeople didn't venture to his part of the woods out of fear that his spirit would seek revenge. And they were right."

You raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

"Over the years, hikers and locals who were brave enough to go on his old land went missing. Their bodies were never found, but people say you can hear their screams echo through the air if you get close enough,” he said, pausing to look around with a somber expression. "And that they became part of the trees."

Glancing around as well, it was difficult to make out the trees in the darkness. "They became part of the trees? How?"

"As you get closer to his land, you can see faces twisted in pain in the bark if you look closely enough. Some even say there’s blood in the sap and dripping from the branches. They even renamed that part of the forest the Red Woods since the paths have inexplicable red dirt, like blood had seeped into the soil," he said, lowering his voice as if to tell you a secret. "It’s like a warning to turn back."

"That is not why they call it the Red Woods," you argued, though you weren’t completely sure now. You actually had no idea why the area got that name.

"That’s how the story’s told."

"So an innocent man was hacked to pieces in his home," you said slowly. "And now he kills anyone who steps into his territory?"

"Condemned to a terrible fate. Just like he was," he said as simple as that. "And people still go missing to this day."

You smiled a bit. There was nothing at all uplifting or funny about the story, but Steve spoke with such seriousness that you almost believed the tale was real. "Okay, but why is he still haunting the woods? If it's revenge on the men who killed him or the townspeople in general, he wouldn’t go after random, innocent hikers."

Steve’s head tilted as he looked at you, something a bit more sinister in his gaze. "Isn’t it obvious? They took his axe. He’s waiting for someone to return it."

A heartbeat passed before you huffed. "Of course, he is. The axe that the men brought back as a trophy," you said, gesturing toward the toolshed. "It’s too bad you don’t have it. You could help put his soul to rest."

"What if I told you I do have it?" he asked.

Your heart rate increased before you huffed again. "You’re a great storyteller, but a terrible liar, Beefcake."

His eyes shot to yours, maintaining eye contact as he reached beside him. You raised an eyebrow when he held up an axe. You had to admit, you knew his tools well and that was one you didn’t recognize. "See? Still stained with blood," he told you, holding it closer to the fire so you could see the blade. "Should we go into the Red Woods and return it?"

You didn’t admit that your stomach turned a little as you brought your hands up and slowly clapped. "Bravo. You went all out for this story. And, no, I’m not going into the woods when it’s this cold out," you said before a snap from a twig nearby drew your attention, making you tense up. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he asked, setting the axe down.

"Oh, you had to have heard that. Your hearing is ten times better than mine," you argued, standing up and narrowing your eyes to try and see when you heard another twig snap. You froze before you began to giggle. "Okay, Bucky! Come on out! I know Steve put you up to this."

Steve jumped to his feet and pushed you behind him. He wouldn't let anything happen to you. "Buck isn’t here. He's at home with Jewel," he said in a hushed tone.

"Wait, you didn’t convince him to come out of the woods to try and scare me?" You asked, placing your hands on his back when he shook his head. "Okay. It’s probably just an animal then."

SNAP.

"I don’t think an animal did that," he whispered, guiding you toward the cabin. Maybe it wasn’t a joke after all. "I think we should-"

"Give…" you stopped at the sound of a demonic voice just beside the toolshed, your heart thumping. "Me…" a man stepped out of the darkness, dragging his left foot behind him. "My…" His decayed skin was caked with blood as he lifted a hand. "AXE!"

Your eyes widened before you snapped out of your stupor. "Oh, fuck this," you muttered, pulling away from Steve who called after you. Grabbing your shotgun from the porch, you brought it to your shoulder and cocked it. "I don’t have an axe, Lumberman, but I’ll shoot you in your fucking face if you take a step closer."

"Whoa!" Steve shouted, holding out his hand for the "zombie" to stop. "Don’t move. She’s serious!"

"Fuck," the zombie muttered, tapping the side of his neck. "Seriously? I really thought I’d get you," the demonic voice fading to a normal tone.

"CLINT?!" you guessed, lowering your gun. The former Hawkeye nodded. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"For the record, this wasn’t my idea," Steve said, an innocent look in his blue eyes. "And I told you she wouldn’t get scared. I don’t know why you insisted on this."

No wonder he wanted to have a fire tonight.

"Okay, okay. It was my idea. Everyone is off doing their own thing and I just wanted to have some fun," Clint explained, walking closer toward the fire as he began to peel the makeup away and toss it in to burn. "This didn’t work on Jewel either! She grabbed one of Bucky’s knives and almost stabbed me."

You laughed a little. No doubt Bucky was both proud of and scared for his girl for that move. "Maybe because, I don’t know, in the story Steve told the Lumberman was hacked to pieces and you’re clearly not. There was also no indication that the Lumberman could leave his territory. Everyone went missing on his land. So why would he be here?"

Clint exchanged a look with Steve. "She has a point," your husband said.

These men are defenders of the universe.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for that," you said, putting the gun back where it belonged. "I have to ask though, why prank me? And why prank Jewel?"

Clint shifted a bit on his feet. "So the guys could be heroes? But seeing as how you grabbed a gun and Jewel grabbed a knife, I think you two are good."

You had to smile as you turned your attention back to Steve. "You wanted to be my hero and protect me from a zombie?"

With a sheepish smile, Steve nodded and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I did," he said in a small voice. "It’s stupid, right?"

Your man, a true hero who saved hundreds of lives, simply wanted to protect you from anything bad. You never loved him more. "It’s not stupid. I think it's kind of sweet," you assured him. "Clint, please, put out the fire and get the hell out of here. Steve, get inside so we can have sex and get warm."

Clint coughed into his hand. "Can I at least get a coffee before I go? I was out there for a while and it’s a little chilly."

Steve ignored his friend as he gave you a smile. "You’re really going to sleep with me after we tried to prank you?" he asked, looking at his feet for a split second. "And you know I’d never want to scare you, right?"

"Yeah, I’m really going to sleep with you. And I know the last thing you’d ever want to do is frighten me. All you want to do is protect me," you smiled. You weren’t going to deny yourself pleasure, especially since you were starting to get cold again. "But for the record, this is pity sex for failing your prank and not grabbing the gun first," you added, giggling when he took two large steps toward you.

Clint stared after you as Steve grabbed and pulled you toward him, fastening his mouth to yours. "So, is that a no on the coffee?"

Your friend eventually got his coffee before he went on his way. After Steve thoroughly wore you out, he promised to stick to cuddling in front of a fire moving forward. Making love in front of a fire was also on the table, whether it was in front of the fireplace or outside under the stars. Though he never did tell you where he got that axe or why it really looked like it was stained with blood.

But maybe you could convince Clint to take that axe into the Red Woods and show Steve how to really scare someone.

Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sunshinegirl29]

Postcards - Chapter 1.

Hi! This fic has been pottering around in my brain for months, I've planned and unplanned and written and deleted, but here it is!

It's my first dabble into writing so constructive criticism and such really welcomed. I'm also open to requests if you like my writing. I write for Spencer Reid, Eddie Munson and Joel Miller.

It's Spencer x Reader, 18+ eventually, slow burn - eventual warnings for abuse, SA and general criminal minds related triggers. updates will be bi monthly.

Chapter 1 – Growing Pains.

You study the form while you wait, leg bouncing against the sticky underside of the table.  No matter the outcome, this has to be over.  The shaking letter is factual and to the point.  A long sigh. You place the envelope back on the desk, before reaching over the files to roll the rich blue fountain pen between your fingers. 

A door clicks, finally.  The familiar heavy tread of Sherrif Miller; “Hello again” he huffs, clutches the ridged back of his office chair and sits down.  You notice his metal foot drags more these days, after all this time he’s never told you how it happened and you don’t ask.  You don’t look up from the broken skin on the corner of your fingers, though you know he’ll be wearing the same sullen frown, his exasperation unhidden. You wonder if he thinks you’re making it up.

“My statement. Is that all you need?” You sigh, looking him in the eye. He shifts uncomfortably under your gaze, blanching slightly.  He doesn’t respect you, typical older generation male, feels out of control in his life and within his team so he dismisses you.  A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth and Miller stands, leg creaking as he rises quicker than you thought he would at his age.

“Yes, that’s all. I’ll leave it with the rest—” You were going to protest, for the third time this month but it falls flat with the rest of Millers’ sentence.

“Hi there, I’m sad we have to meet again under these circumstances.”  You step from foot to foot, wiping both hands on your jeans.  Mason Cook is classically handsome, dark hair and light eyes; he’s the type of man who’s charming, but brooding at the same time.  From the amount of time you’ve spent at this station, you’ve seen plenty of his female colleagues fall over themselves to impress him, frankly it’s quite embarrassing but you can see the appeal.

“It’s okay Mason, Miller here was just telling me how you’re all going to put your time and resources into finding this weirdo. Right Miller?” 

You hear the scrawling of Miller’s pen stop, you definitely hit a nerve.  Mason watches as usual, he knows you’re enjoying bating his useless boss and wipes a large hand over his beard to cover his own tilted grin.

“That’s enough.” He snaps, “Cook, don’t you have work to do? We have weirdo to find and you’re my resource.”    You nod.  A subtle glance at your watch; 7:15am, you were late.

_

“Second day on the job and you’re already late?”

SSA Derek Morgan croons when he talks. He can’t help it.  It’s lead plenty of women straight to bed but right now it reminds you that a useless errand to the Sherrif’s office made you late for the most important job you’ve landed in years.

“Bite me Morgan” His laugh fades as you rush past, dipping into the roundtable room.

No one’s here.   This must be what hazing feels like?

You understand men like Morgan, women usually fall into three categories; two separate categories that had their own rules.  The first box was untouchable. These women were untouchable in every sense of the word. They usually either belonged to someone else, or meant something to him.   Garcia fell into that category, you’d deduced – they’d shamelessly flirt and are the only reason BAU’s HR department were in business.  She would always reside in the Untouchable box, regardless of how much Penelope wanted out of that particular category.  Jennifer Jaureu also belonged in that box, but in a different way.  She was Will’s – it started and ended there.  He had eyes of course; she was attractive but he loved her like family.  Then there was Elle.  She had started out in the fuckable box, but getting shot and killing Lee had shifted her into the untouchable box pretty quickly after that.  He’d dated enough women to know to stay away from that kind of trauma, besides he’d loved her like family too.  

Then there’d been you.  After months of training together, you were quite sure you now hovered between the fuckable and untouchable box.  There was something powerfully arousing knowing that the person that had your life in their hands daily, could take it instantly.  If he knew, you’d be banished to the untouchable box instantly.  

Anyway, you let him have his win. 

“You told me it was urgent. You lie!” It spurts out in a laugh, breaking the silence.

“Sorry babydoll! I’m just messin’ with you! Welcome to the team!” he pats you on the back and helps pick up the files and folders that your whirlwind entrance scattered around the small room.

You settle down in a chair opposite the door, a strategic position; able to see for potential threats and a planned exit route for any emergencies. Perfect.   It’s not long before Agent Rossi takes a seat beside you.  He gives a short good morning and a reassuring pat on the shoulder in support of your second real day on the job – it goes a long way in settling simmering nerves.

Morgan sits down, a ghost of a smirk still on his lips as he sips a third cup of steaming coffee.  He tries to hide it but you’re trained to observe, not being able to miss the roving way his eyes study you across the table.  It’s insane how an expert profiler doesn’t realise you see right through it, but maybe, you smirk back, he does and just doesn’t care?  

Garcia totters in, bright and giddy, the breath of fresh air in the stifling room.  She’s passing cups of coffee in ludicrous mugs to each person when JJ and Aaron file in together; their presence hushes the deep conversation you’re having with Rossi, leaving the intricate details of Bobby Fisher’s chess strategy dead in the water.  

“Okay, Good Morning, let’s get started.” He looks determinedly everywhere but you. JJ interrupts your thoughts with a manilla folder. 

“Three girls have gone missing and been later found murdered over the last 6 months in a semi-rural area of Georgia.”  Your heart lurches, desperate to free itself from your chest.  You take a few deep breaths, calming it into submission.   “Alison Sinclar, Cassidy Williams and Joslyn Cooper were all in their late teens to early twenties when they each went missing.”  JJ pauses, allowing Garcia to pull up pictures of each girl in a row. 

“Allison Sinclar a Senior at Georgia High School had Spring Break with her family in Senoia Georgia. She disappeared after leaving a house party at a friend’s and never returned.  She’d been strangled and posed.  She was found on the edge of farmland a few days later.” JJ blanches at the crime scene photos, turning quickly to hand out some physical copies to an empty chair.

 “Oh my! How are you all not in so much therapy?!” Garcia holds a cherry octopus’ mug in her field of vision, shielding from the unnecessarily gruesome death.

“Any evidence of sexual assault?” Emily asks. 

“Yes, extensively.” JJ nods, her voice unwavering.

Allison was someone’s child, but to this killer she had been nothing but a means to an end, a way to get off and dispose in favour of the next prize.  

The board flickered, to Garcia’s irritation and you take the time to observe the rest of the group;

  Emily Prentiss was no longer the new kid on the team, she’d taken you under her wing in the weeks leading up to your first day and you’d taken to texting her a few times a week for late night advice and tips to assimilate.  She’d been helpful but somewhat reserved in giving any personal details about herself; smart girl.  Morgan was debating the Sexual Predator angle with Aaron, who still wasn’t looking at you.  Then there was the case of the strange empty chair.

“There!” Penelope chimes “You can bow to the technical Goddess!” 

“Cassidy Williams.” Hotch cuts her off with the smallest hint of joviality “Cassidy was seventeen, she had been in and out of foster homes, in Georgia.  She was found in a wooded area on the edge of town, also strangled and posed like Allison”    

This one was a carbon copy of the first.  Her body wilted over at the waist, manipulated into a vulgar position.  A strange sensation washed over you, leaving you shivering uncomfortably.

This was enough for Garcia.  She stood abruptly, coffee splashing onto the files in the additional space at the table.  “No. Nope. I’ll be in my bat-cave if you need me.  God, I need my therapist on speed dial!!” 

Aaron nods, giving her arm a small squeeze before she leaves.  He’s never done that to you. It evokes an unpleasant sensation in your gut. 

This time he looks at you it’s short lived, if you weren’t paying attention you’d have missed it.  But he knows better. 

“Joslyn Cooper, twenty-two and the most recent death.  Hers prompted the Georgia Police Department to request our assistance on the case.  She was” JJ takes a visible breath, “Also posed but her heart was removed.” 

“Oh my god.” Whistled Rossi even a seasoned agent like him wasn’t immune to this particular horror. 

A chorus of disgust rippled around the room, it starts a debate about the significance of the heart in mythology and religion but you could only focus on the posing, something about it seemed vaguely familiar.

“Hey Sugar? Are you okay?” Morgan’s wave came into focus and you shake your head involuntarily.  It looked like he was enjoying your distraction, the toothy grin snuck onto his face and you replied in kind.

“Yeah.” You scoff, “It’s a rough one for the first case.” You placate him with the ghost of the truth and run your fingers jokingly over the sparse hair on his head on your way out the door.

A sudden motion stops you.  A flicker of movement that turns into a touch of your arm, it guides you discreetly away from your colleagues who grab go bags with muscle memory.  You’re very familiar with the huffing breath and deep frown of Aaron Hotchner.

“Aaron, don’t do this.” You say slowly and wish this wasn’t going to turn into a passive aggressive lecture.

“They don’t know.” Aaron said and you watch his chin tilt. He looks over you with a serious gaze that sits comfortably on his brow.  The one that Hayley always talked about.

It was horrifying how little they knew.  He was their boss and they knew nothing about him. It felt like a slap in the face, another reminder of how insignificant you were – or maybe it was a classic reflection of how you felt about yourself, deep down. 

“You don’t have to tell me how much they don’t know Aaron.” From your position on a spare desk in a shadowed corner of the Bullpen you scowl up at him, “They didn’t even bat an eyelid, not even Garica who has all your files!?”

Aaron breathes heavily, tongue moistening his cracked lips.  “There’s aspects of my life I want to keep private.”  It’s flat and unemotional, as you expect. “The anonymity will help you here and it keeps you safe.”   You muse for a second, chewing on his words – they’re sour and shame tinged but the faint sweetness of comfort lingers on your tongue.

“Safe.” It comes out harsher than it needed to be and you can see his regret fade back into the comfortable frown you’re so accustomed to.

Aaron sighs, grabs a briefcase from the desk and turns his back to you.

“Let’s get going. Wheels up in 30.”

Greetings from Sharpsburg!

12.06.02    

Hi you!

  I know we live three towns over and I could just pick up the phone, but this is a romantic notion I picked up from that raunchy book I found in Mama’s dresser!  Hopefully Miss Cain will let you come here tomorrow; Daddy’s going to pick up my uncle Kellen from the airport but after you should come for dinner.  I hope Mr Hartman will get this to you before then.

Love, Elizabeth.

A violent breeze calls you back, you’re not sure what happened on the drive to the airstrip but vaguely remember Jennifer’s mouth moving and something about meeting another member of the team on the plane. 

“Why do I only get to travel with you guys once or twice a year?”  Penelope gasps, hurriedly shuffling past you.  She smiles eagerly at a man you don’t recognise; he passes her a coffee in a hot pink mug that she takes gratefully. 

“Oh!” Garcia backpaddles, hands in the air.  You know she doesn’t mean any harm, but instinctually step backwards.  The cool silver of your watch clamps painfully against your wrist where she grabs it, leading you towards him.  Penelope introduces you and moves off to sit by Derek; they smile at each other like scheming children.

He’s tall and gawky, obviously flustered by the change in staffing, his previously relaxed demeanour shifts into awkward, a tight smile.

“Dr Spencer Reid nice to meet you.”  You reply in kind, glad he doesn’t extend a hand. 

You study him while he excuses himself and strides over, settling in opposite Rossi.  Dr Reid is the type of man that goes home alone to vintage first addition books, and the sound of a dripping tap he’s not there enough to be bothered to fix.  His day specific shirts are neatly folded into certain drawers, where his real wool coats hang in seasonal order.  Jennifer had mentioned his eidetic memory, which might be the least interesting thing about him.  He’s older than you, by several years at least, but still baby faced enough that the cops on cases don’t take him as seriously as the others despite his title.

“Okay, let’s get started.”  Aaron gestures and you sit down.

“All three girls have similar victimology, features and body types. He’s definitely got a type.” Your sentence trails off in a sigh without obvious reason and you’re suddenly aware of the faint hum of the jet, the only sound.  “They could be a surrogate for someone in his life, past or present someone who’d wronged him in some perceived way?”  You continue, ignoring the awkward feeling settling in your gut. 

“Yeah, looks like it but what’s with the posing?” Emily hums, looking over the photos one by one.  She doesn’t seem to flinch at the brutality of the crimes, but you can’t judge her.

“It’s interesting, the posing.” Reid states, flicking back and forth over each photo. “It’s as if he’s humiliating them—” 

“It’s dehumanizing.” You accidently cut him off, blurting out your thoughts.

 Reid is the smartest person in the room and everyone knows it, the way his eyebrows shoot into his brown curls says all you need to know on his feelings about being interrupted.

“Sorry, go ahead.” You wince.

“The manner of death is personal, intimate.  They mean something to him, dehumanized after death, no remorse.”  Each word packs a punch, the slight condescending lilt makes your blood boil. 

A minute of oppressive silence follows, something tells you they all know Reid isn’t used to being spoken over.  It’s amusing really, but ruffling feathers on your second day on the job wasn’t how you wanted this to go, so you sigh in resignation and nod, accepting his deduction.

“There’s no discernible MO but according to the M.E Report all girls were extensively sexually assaulted and all in the same manner. Which could help.” Aaron notes, frowning again.

“The unsub crosses socioeconomic backgrounds; Allison Sinclar lived in a rural but wealthy area of Georgia, her father is a retired Georgia Police Sherrif and her mother an English Tutor.”  Derek gestures to the files in your lap. 

“Cassidy’s parents are in the wind?  She’d been bouncing in and out of foster homes for years before her death. If their backgrounds mean something to him, it means he’s had enough time and space to watch them.” It’s aggravating, the seemingly random way this unsub kills young girls, but that doesn’t explain why your hands shake and the pen slips from sweaty palms. 

  It’s like magic, the way he catches it with dextrous fingers. Spencer’s eyes flick to yours for a breath and he nods tightly once again, handing it back without a word.

“That’s true. Good work.” Aaron catches your eye and nods with a tenderness you’ve not seen from anyone since your mother died, the feeling that bubbles up forces your gaze back down.

“When we land, I want you and Reid to go to the medical examiner’s office.” If Aaron wanted you to start this job with confidence, he was definitely going the wrong way about it. You flash pleading eyes at Derek who surprisingly is already watching, or rather smirking at what must be a very distasteful expression.

  Aaron continues, oblivious or unphased; “Emily and I will go to lease with the family, Rossi and Morgan, I’d like you to go to the most recent crime scene. Garcia with JJ set up at the Station, Sherrif Anderson will meet you there.”

“Brace yourself.”

Before you can question Rossi’s order the jet tips, scattering chess pieces all over along with the last dredges of your abandoned coffee.

>

Greetings from Sharpsburg!

26/09/05

Hi you!

I know in my last letter, I said I’d give up this romantic notion!  But it’s just not me.  It’s been different around here the last few months.  Mama’s sick again and Daddy’s working more on the new barn and...

Anyway, I hope Miss Cain will let you come over again soon. I’ve been… 

Love, Elizabeth.

The medical examiner’s office is tucked away in the back of an archaic local hospital.  The instruments lay neatly, shining eerily in the clinical glow.  This part of the job was always the hardest; seeing people’s loved ones, naked on a freezing table just to be dissected and stored away.  It was irrational. You knew this was a very necessary part of the job to eventually catch the unsub and put the victims to rest, but how the two girls laid out like this was just undignified.

“I’m so sorry Agents, I just stepped out for some air.”

She’s not what you expect.  British. Two grey strips of hair frame her face, the rest sleek and brown poured down her back in a glossy ponytail.  She looks about four years your senior, a jagged scar dresses her milky white false left eye.  She carries on around the room, passes a manila folder to Reid and expertly dons a protective gown. 

“I’m Doctor Annabel Clayton.  My parents and I knew the first girl Alison and her parents. They had trouble conceiving so they adopted.” Clayton sighs, looking you in the eye.  A shiver runs down your spine again, making an unwelcomed home in your gut.

“Cause of Death?” Reid asks and you frown, unsure why he had to ask.  Maybe it was just obvious to you? 

“The main cause of death was strangulation.”

“Look at the bruising pattern.” The ever-well-mannered Dr Reid cuts in curiously, squinting at the bruising.  “He did it by hand.”  

“However.”  Dr Clayton slaps down the sheet, covering the young girl’s modesty.  She didn’t look like the type of woman who was used to being talked over in her own office.  “She has some internal bleeding that would have caused her death if he’d not chosen, well, the other.”  She looked sad in a wistful dreamy way, as if a ghost. A small-town purgatory. 

“The other, Cassidy.  She was also manually strangled and sexually assaulted in the same manner.”  Finger shaped bruises bloomed angrily on her grey thighs.  They give way to more, a trail of violence ending at her neck.  The uncharacteristic prickle of tears threatens but are obediently blinked back.

“They could be sisters...” You sigh, in fact you could all be sisters.

Clayton moves on to the last girl, her brooding expression darkening.

“For obvious reasons, I’ll be keeping this poor sweetheart covered from here.”  She strokes Joslyn’s hair.  “She’s still a young girl after all, she’d want to look her best.”

“This is the worst I’ve seen in my career, especially in this area.  Her cause of death wasn’t manual strangulation.” She quips and Reid strides to your side.  The accidental intimacy of it makes your breath catch.  He smells homely, the warming aroma of old books and black coffee, you can’t help but lean into it.  

“Do you want me to carry on?”  That’ll do it. Clayton’s British lilt is like ice water, it’s embarrassing.  You’re leaning into a man you barely know and are frankly not sure you even like?

“Of course, sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”  You stammer, stepping toward the teen girls ghostly face and chest. 

“She was found posed, like Cassidy.  She was leant over a tree stump with the rope around her neck. It was hung from a tree.” 

The picture she passes around is from a distance.  The rope is tied to a gnarled tree, snaking down to bind her wrists, the other hooked over her head and knotted to a taller branch.

“The unsub must be at least six foot to attempt this alone.  Unless they have a partner.” The possibility is frightening, one unsub is hard enough but two?  Say goodbye to sleep for the next few weeks.  

“Okay Agents. I need to get these girls back to their beds.”

You pause for a reply, but looking back catch Reid rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand, as if shielding them from the overly bright strip light.

“You okay there?” 

His jaw is tight, your eyes linger on the way the action accentuates the sharp corner.

“Just a headache. Let’s go.”

> 

The familiar stickiness of the Georgian heat prickles at your back dampening the linen of your shirt, it sticks to your forearms as you roll up the sleeves.  Being back here felt much like the oppressive midday sun, inescapable and suffocating. 

“How was the ME?”  Emily asks, but Reid strides past you toward a waiting Rossi.  She frowns as they disappear into the precinct together, talking animatedly about something you can’t quite hear.

“She’s interesting for sure.” You breathe, skilfully ignoring the vibration from your cell in the back pocket of your pants.

The precinct was mayhem bustling with cops that looked a little too old to be in the field but hated their wives and children too much to retire just yet.  They scramble to sit in rickety office chairs as Aaron and Rossi start to present, you wonder if they’d take your suggestions on board.

As Aaron starts to give a preliminary profile you hear words like previous history of abuse, 18 to 25, local, abandonment issues and surrogate, but you can focus on nothing but the manic buzzing of your phone again.  You’ve changed the number three times in the last 9 months and every time this son of a bitch still manages to find it. You’re seriously debating asking Garcia for help but then reconsider, it’s for the best, keeping them at an arms-length.

As the officers begin to buzz around you, taking calls from the tip line and preparing to interview locals you discreetly slip your cell out and glance at the seven new messages illuminating the screen.

12:24pm – Mason Cook.

Hey bug,

Miller said they’ve had no luck tracing the calls you’ve been having, sorry. I did try. Also, the girl from the coffee shop didn’t recognise the sketch.  I know I keep saying, but I’m sorry. Hope you’re back soon, I’ll leave the key in the normal place.

12:45pm – Unknown

I told you. I’m not going anywhere. It’s about time you paid for taking it all away from me.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Don't insult us, our partner is a protective man.

Thinking about for Middle Ground that after Finn and Darling's relationship with Auron is public all three are invented to a gathering. Darling didn't want to go and was annoyed at the whole thing but Finn was having fun so they kept their mouth shut. What they DIDNT like was that these rich fucks thought they could give Finn sly remarks about his 'lower' status, tf was this??? The middle ages???

Darling glared at the pompous man in front of them, he had a pudgy stomach and looked like a pig. Lucius, was his name one if Ahrons many business partner's and he just insulted Finn's outfit. The outfit was a beautifully made tux suited for Finn, green being the main color but had bits of red and purple for his partner's.

"I think it's a bit tacky, is all. The jewlery too look a bit...cheap." Whispering surrounded them a bit as people watched the interaction. Auron was off talking to someone so this fat fuck decided to mess with THEIR partner.

"Actually, Auron went to a new up and coming fashion designer. Cheri Regius, is her name maybe you haven't heard of her since her debut clothing line is coming out in a few months." Saying Darling took a sip of the champagne. It tasted a bit bitter and not really to their likings, they glared around and saw how there was more whispers.

"Oh! You don't say can we see the stitching? I heard she does a particular one to signify that it's her personal work." Greedy eyes locked on Finn, seeing this Darling took the spotlight and sighed loudly catching everyone attention.

"Honestly do you think we're dumb? I'm not going to show you shit. If you want to know what our specific tux and outfit is ask Auron." Waving their hands a different beverage was given to them. They then held their hand out for Finn who as nervously watching the interaction. "Finn? Dear I'm tired walk me to the sitting area?" The blonde nodded and reached for their hand, only to hear a shout.

"How rude of you! I only asked a simple question no need to be so hostile to me!" Huffing and puffing was heard from the pig like man. Sighing again Darling heard footsteps behind them and smirked.

"How? But you called our outfits cheap and tacky! It's an insult to my beloved Auron and Finn...of course I would jump to defend both! I hate when someone insults them in front of me." A large hand touched their shoulder as Finn held their hand. Not turning their head they knew who the person was. By the way everyone's eyes widen in fear of what would happen next.

"Oh? Really you insulted the outfits I hand picked out personally to show off how much I care for my partner's? That's insulting, Lucius Belldrum." Saying with a smile Auron looked like he was going to rip someone in half. But it seemed like Finn didn't want to cause a scene.

"Auron, can we go sit somewhere? Darling is tired and my feet hurt a but from the new shoes we got...." Deverting the attention from Lucius, Auron turned and nodded to the florist. Then turning to Darling taking their other hand and kissing it he smiled at the two.

"It seems my kinder partner gave you mercy. Your lucky, I wanted to play with you a bit, seems I won't." Guiding his partner's away to the resting area, Lucius looked pale. He was standing there shocked hearing those words, but snapped about of but before he could say anything he froze again.

Sharp eyes looked into him like daggers waiting to cut him down. From the 'Darling' and Auron, both shielding Finn away from him. But he saw the nasty crazy eyed look the blonde was giving him too, Jesus all three of them are crazy. He thought as he changed the topic to lighten the atmosphere around him.

But it was too late gossip spreads quickly in these events. And no one wanted to get on Auron's bad side, he almost rep all of the industry he was in.

[cafemoony]

The Seven Seas and Beyond - [act i] reunion

» description

as the daughter of the grand duke, you never expected to be an outlaw. however, an impulsive decision, including saving a pirate from the most infamous crew, leads you to go on the run and join said group. now you are forced to navigate the stormy seas with eight wanted men by your side as obstacle after obstacle tries to prevent your group's happy ending.

» pairing

ot8 pirate! ateez x fem! noble! reader

» genre

fluff, angst, pirate au, slowburn

» chapter warnings

swearing

Rumours are everywhere, especially in the world of the rich. They can be harmful, preying and devouring their victims until they are nothing but a shadow of their past selves. Conversely, they could raise someone onto higher pedestals, lifting them and creating an image of who everyone would want to be. There was a particular rumour that floated around you, ever since you were a young girl, that could be viewed as good or bad. They said you knew everything, from simple arithmetic questions to predictions on the future of certain people, you knew it all. So why is it, for all the knowledge and wisdom people claimed you had, that you could not think about what to do now that you see your childhood friend in front of you, about to be executed for being a member of an infamous pirate crew?

The morning started sombre, as it usually does within the [l/n] household. Today marked a decade since Choi San absconded, the person who had been your best friend in your youth. In all your memories with him, the sun had always been shining as the two of you ran around hand-in-hand, the wind blowing your hair behind you and bright smiles adorning both of your faces. Ever since he left, it felt like nothing but rainstorms and hail. 

You had a very busy and packed schedule today, one that would take a toll on you physically and mentally. Overseeing an execution, no matter how guilty the other party was, would always drain you of energy like a greedy little vampire hungry for blood. Despite this, you chose to wake up early, even before dawn so you could head to your latibule. This was a place your mother had shown you and the only other person to have been here besides the two of you was San, thus, making it the perfect hang-out spot for when you were children. It also made it the most fitting place to let him go. 

You clung to hope that he would one day return for you, but now at the age of 23, you realize that he most likely wouldn’t. You would soon inherit the [l/n] Dukedom and it was time for you to leave the shadows of your past behind, including the friend that abandoned you. Even though this was your goal, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of that silver pendant so all you left behind at the old Aehulkonet tree was your friendship ring. 

On the trip down to the capital to start your official business, it had started to rain and the world seemed to be weeping for the lost friendship. You had brought along a parasol, having predicted that it would rain later in the day based on the clouds. You took your time, pulling your fur jacket tighter against you while savouring what little freedom you still had left.

Upon reaching the capital, you weren’t shocked to see the amount of people surrounding the town square. Today’s execution was special in the eyes of the Lycoris Empire. A pirate from the Ateez crew had been captured and brought in for punishment. This specific pirate crew is notorious for constantly stealing from the nobles and even the royals. There were tales of them committing sexual assault, child slavery, and even murder. All in all, they were very detestable beings. 

You knew what to expect. This would be another old haggard pirate in their late 50s, with crooked teeth and a hook for a hand. Pirate execution was commonplace in the capital with how many of them were crawling around. This was just another unfortunate fool that got caught. So imagine your surprise when you were greeted by the striking face of a man in his early 20s, with full lips and platinum blond hair. And despite all those years apart, you could recognize those sharp eyes anywhere. That was Choi San and you would be damned if you let him die before you got answers.

It took you a while to gain your wits once again, your brain scrambling to formulate a plan. Seeing him chained up was a vast contrast to his normally cheery face and combined with the shock of seeing him after so long, you had been shaken up. You schooled your shocked face back to the one of practiced apathy. Straightening your back and raising your head, your presence demanded respect and caused the sea of people to immediately part ways for you. Marching your way to the front of the crowd, you refused to let yourself waver even as San’s shocked eyes met your own cold ones.

“Release him.” Your command shocked everyone and for a moment there was a stunned silence before chaos erupted. 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘release him’?!”

“How could you side with a monster like him?!”

The crowd fell silent the second you raised your hand, stern and apathetic eyes scanned the rows of people who filled the snowy streets. “I have personal issues with this one. He had stolen something very valuable from me and I want it back. I don’t care whether you want him to die today, he will perish when I say so and that will be when I receive what I have lost from him.” You left no room for argument, not like anyone would dare go against you anyway.

Turning your gaze to the guards, you gestured for them to bring him to you. They did so shakily, handing you the chain connected to his cuffs. San’s astonished expression had yet to leave his face, dark brown eyes staring at you like you were some otherworldly saviour, which in his case, you supposed you were. You yanked hard on his chain, snapping him out of his stupor and causing him to stumble. Tsking, you turned heel and left with him trailing behind you.

You brought him through an alleyway before promptly turning and unlocking his chains. As they fell to the ground, you stared directly into his eyes. “You are going to take me to your ship and you are going to convince your captain to let me join your crew, understood?”

San stuttered, trying to process what happened. “Huh? W-wait, wha- Y-you want to join? Aren’t you mad?” You snorted, an action you knew your stepmother would hit you for using her fan. 

“Of course I am. I’m pissed actually,” you stated as you started to drag him toward the ports, “You didn’t even say goodbye before you ran off and when I see you again, you’re a wanted criminal? You're an absolute bastard and I detest you. I can’t believe you turned your back on the kingdom to become a pirate of all things.”

(Despite what you said, you could never really hate San. You just loathed the fact that you still cared for him, even after he abandoned you first.)

San followed you willingly, tilting his head in the manner you always adored. “Then why did you help me? And why would you want to join me?” You rolled your eyes, spinning around and shoving him against the cold stone walls of the building behind him. 

“Because,” you emphasized this by jabbing your finger on his chest, “I’ll be wanted too for freeing you. Bitchass royals are going to see this as treason even if I said I had personal issues with you and would punish you myself. So in return for saving you, you are going to help me join your crew to ensure my safety and give me answers to why you fucking left without a damn word.” Normally, you wouldn’t swear, it wasn’t how you were raised but today had been a rollercoaster of emotions and you had to let it out somehow.

San blinked before laughing, finding your profanity funny. “Alright, alright, I owe you that much.” Taking your hand, delicately just like he did in the past, he started pulling you along in the opposite direction you were going in. “Also, you were headed the wrong way.”

You huff, the air condensing where you let out a breath. “Smartass. Shut up and focus on getting us there before we both get caught and executed. 

~~~*~~~

San led you through the winding alleyways with expertise only found in people who frequented the area and despite the life-threatening danger looming above the two of you, you couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, transported back to times of your youth. Often, when you were stressed and needed a break from classes, San would sneak you out of your manor and bring you to the capital. In order to avoid detection by your guards, you guys would traverse the shadows and alleys, places that no one would expect the two of you to be. It was during those times that you could let go and be free, San’s warm hands and bright smile sending a fuzzy feeling through you. You wished you could go back to those times.

One of the places you two discovered was a river that led out to the ocean. It was a discreet location that the authorities didn’t know about. You supposed this was the reason San had gotten his crew to dock the ship here. 

(You hated the fact that you felt upset that this was no longer a secret only you and San knew about.)

His ship was beautiful, vastly different from what you imagined it to be. Tales told by the townsfolk always depicted it to be old, falling apart like a ghost ship. It shocked you to see a well-maintained vessel towering over you, the main body made of oakwood and the black flags well taken care of. “Beautiful, isn’t she? We named her Destiny.” San spoke up and instantly your mood dampened at the knowledge of the name.

(He used to call you Destiny and playfully claimed you were his past, present, and future. It left a bitter taste in your mouth knowing that he used to call you the same thing he does his ship.)

You scoffed and threw your head to the side, unwilling to let him see how hurt you were by that name. “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, I suppose. I’ve seen far better and grander ships.” You ignored San’s knowing smile. You were sure that San still understood you inside out even with the decade apart. That cheeky grin was because he knew you actually preferred rustic and simple vessels, having had enough of the blinding white ships covered head to toe with glittering diamonds. A highly unnecessary display of the wealth the nobles had to throw around.

“SAN!” You startled. A blur crashed into San, entrapping him in a hug. The only thing you can distinguish from this person is that they were a male and he had black hair. Oh, and he was currently crying and sobbing out words between sniffles that you could not make out. You eyed the rather pitiful display in front of you with San desperately trying to soothe the distraught man who was currently rubbing snot and tears all over San’s clothes, ruining them. Though, admittedly, his clothes weren’t all that nice to begin with…

You allowed them a moment, figuring that this was one of San’s friends from his crew. You weren’t heatless enough to deprive the two of them of much-needed relief no matter how much you hated San at the moment.

(You really didn’t hate him. It’s just you’ve become a very petty being who knows how to hold her grudges.)

Eventually, you had enough and figured it was time to get moving. The mystery man’s cries could easily alert the hunting dogs the Royal Guards owned and you didn’t want to risk getting caught. It would be a shame to save one person only to have three recaptured. 

Clearing your throat, you drew attention to yourself when you started to speak. “While I hate to disrupt this touching reunion, I must remind you of the guards currently on our tail. This can surely be continued elsewhere,” you dryly said with a rather monotone voice.

Whipping around, the raven-haired male glared at you and untangled himself from San in favour of standing in front of him defensively. You found that rather amusing. In what way did he think an unarmed female donning a 14-pound dress, a thick fur coat and heels could take him and San down? Then again, looks deceive people. Your stepmother was a prime example of that. It also didn’t help that you have a leather pouch strapped on your right thigh. So yeah, thinking about it, you could understand the mistrust. It didn’t make it any less funny though.

“Who the fuck are you?” He growled out, hand reaching for the sword strapped to his side. San was quick to pull him back.

“Woo, it’s fine! Don’t hurt her!” ‘Woo’ glanced back at his comrade in confusion and disbelief. San backtracked and quickly explained, “[y/n] was the one to get me out of there.” The other male blinked, looking back and forth between you and San quickly.

“[y/n]?” He tentatively asked, voice going into a low whisper as if your name was a forbidden word. To pirates, it probably was considering your bad reputation amongst them. “As in [y/n] [l/n]?”

San nodded and you hated the way your eyes immediately locked onto his smile as he happily exclaimed that you were his childhood friend. You also hated how warm and gooey you felt seeing ‘Woo’ slowly brightening up as San explained what happened. This wasn’t a feeling you were used to feeling anymore. It’s been a full decade since you’ve felt those familiar butterflies and you loathe that you’re feeling this for the person who abandoned you and a complete stranger. The warmth turns to bitter cold as you begin to contemplate whether it would be fine to try and stay with the Ateez crew. You don’t know how you will act with these emotions running through you and you detest not knowing things.

You snap out of your thoughts when the ravenette’s higher-pitched voice starts to speak to you. You look at him to see sparkling, grateful eyes as he happily tells you his name. “My name is Jung Wooyoung! Thank you so much for saving this doofus!” You blink as the feeling returns, washing away your negative thoughts. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

Taglist: @marievllr-abg

[thenightfolknetwork]

I am an antichrist.

The Real thing, born to a seventh virgin daughter after her soul was consumed by my father, Satan, in a ritual of fire, glory and light.

I was raised as instructed by The Book— Don't ask which Book, you don't want to know, the knowledge would melt your eardrums— to be the destroyer of the world, the prince of sins and the devourer of souls. I am the One Who Will Bring Fire to the earth, I am the One who will run the blood of innocents through the streets and boil the sea with my mere desire, I am the dark side of the moon, I am humanity's nightmare, I am—

I am 12 years old.

And I'm at school.

I just learned about ecosystems: The delicate balance of a food chain, the harmony that exists in the earth when a network of fungi extracts nitrogen from the earth and a rotting tree leaves the soil rich for next spring.

I found out about corals recently too. They are alive and an extremely complex life form for something that will never move, corals don't die as long as nothing kills them, isn't that a strange and wonderful concept?

I always wanted to be the World Destroyer.

It never occurred to me that bringing hell to earth would mean no deer or bees or coyotes.

If you increase the average sea temperature by more than two degrees, millions of corals will die. I don't know if I want to boil the sea if that's the end result.

But I am the Antichrist and I like being the Antichrist. I like to be Apotheosis, the crack in the glass, the rotten apple, the mercury in the water.

But I also like the world as it is, even if it doesn't bow down to me in fear.

What do I do?

(What do I say to my father?)

This is the problem with prophecies – they always put the subject under such a tremendous amount of pressure! I feel sure that, if your father had simply not mentioned his plans for your future, you would have grown up without these anxieties and likely gone on to fulfil your unholy purpose without a second thought, in a time frame that felt sensible and natural to you.

Instead, you've been burdened with a terrible and unreasonable amount of responsibility. No wonder you're feeling torn! This is more than any twelve year old should have to consider.

The important thing to remember is that you don't have to make a decision about this right away. You are the Antichrist and you will remain the Antichrist while you take a little while to decide the best course of action for you. The end of the world will still be there when you're ready for it.

As to the apocalypse itself, this is the other reason prophecies can be so frustrating. They are simply never specific enough to be helpful. Yes, you may be destined to end the world – but which world, exactly? And how much of that 'blood of innocents, boiling seas' stuff is literal, and how much is just a religious scribe getting carried away with himself?

In my experience, there are many, many ways a person might fulfil a prophecy without having to bring a fiery demise to this particular realm of existence. You might take a short hop over to another reality and destroy an uninhabited world, for example.

Alternatively, you might take your prophecy in a more metaphorical sense. “The world” we live in today is one that allows billionaires and business magnates destroy our environment in the name of profit. Perhaps you could fulfil your great purpose by destroying the social and political structures that make that world possible.

I understand your trepidation about bringing this up with your father. However, I really do think that you should consider it. Looking after you is his job, after all, and I'm sure he wouldn't want you struggling with these feelings alone. Reach out to him, and let him know how you feel.

You don’t have to decide this all at once. Whatever else you say to your father, you need to make it clear that you will not be embarking on any sort of apotheosis until you've at least finished your GCSEs. You are a child, and you deserve to have a proper childhood, whatever the future might hold for you.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[slytherin-girly]

Popular/ A Draco Malfoy x reader one-shot

House: Gryffindor or slytherin

Blood: half or pure

Warning:tw? I guess, reader if kind of in a depressive state?

Wc: 700+ give or take 🤷‍♀️

=============================

{3rd person pov}

Y/n L/n. Y/n is one of the most popular girls at Hogwarts. She has goddess-like looks, shes kind, smart, anything a guy could possibly want. A lot of boys got their eye on her but she has an eye for one blond boy in particular. Draco Malfoy is his name. The slytherin prince, Y/n was crowned the princess of her house in fact (gryffindor or slytherin)

Everyone wanted to be Y/n. They never knew what went on behind every smile, every laugh. They knew nothing about her life. If her eyes could show her soul people would be surprised.

~~~~~~

Y/n was walking down to divination, the class she dreaded the most.

Although hearing all the different possibilities and ways you're going to die was a little much for her.

She'd been thinking about dropping the class since she thought it was a bunch of crap anyway.

But it was a reason to get things off her mind. A reason to get al the things going on in her head out for awhile.

~~~~~~

After all the classes Y/n went to the library to do some studying.

And maybe grab a book or two.

After studying for a little bit, she decided to grab a book on simple spells and charms.

But of course it was out of her reach.

"Need help darling," a male voice had said

"W-what?"

He had pressed his chest on her back reaching over her to grab the book on spells and charms.

If she wasn't a blushing mess right now, she didn't know what would make her blush.

"Was this the book darling?" Draco had questioned

"Uhm- y-yes it is. Thank you Draco." Y/n said smiling a bit

"No problem Y/n." He returned the smile and walked off somewhere.

~~~~~~~

Y/n was at dinner and oddly enough the mail was late. It usually came around lunch.

She was sitting next to one of her only best friends. She was one of the only people who actually knew what was going on in y/ns life. They did live next to each other after all.

"Mail came in extremely late today." Valerie stated (yes I gave her a name so just go with it(: )

"Yeah it did." Y/n replied

She awaited for her owl, for something to come.

The owl dropped a few letters, one being a howler.

"I have to go valerie" y/n said grabbing her stuff, taking the letter with her to black lake.

~~~~~~

Once Y/n had gotten there she opened the howler speedily.

It was from her father.. uh oh Y/n thought. Mentally preparing for the worst.

"Y/n! M/n! L/n! Your grades should be way higher than this! I expected better of you! You are such a disgrace to the family name! I raised you better than this! And I told you to stop being friends with that girl valerie! Didnt I! She is a bad influence to you! Look at what she has done! Look at your grades! You are a pathetic excuse for a daughter."

Y/n had slumped down by a tree and watched as the letter ripe itself up.

She sighed bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them.

She cried and cried and cried. She only wanted her father to be proud of her, sure she was rich and her life seemed perfect, but she lacked love. Her mother had left. But Y/n understood why now.

She had continued to cry until she had heard something behind her.

She quickly wiped her eyes and her cheeks and tried her best to stop weeping. But she couldnt really.

"H-hello? Is anyone t-there?" She asked standing up slightly

Out from behind the shadows came a boy with platinum blond hair. Draco.

"Are you okay Y/n?" He asked concern in his voice

"I uhm- heard the letter"

She said nothing, instead she went up to him and started hugging him tightly.

He was taken aback by this but he didnt complain. Getting hugged by his crush, he couldn't be happier.

Y/n had started crying again.

"I tried so hard d-draco a-and he's s-still not h-happy with m-me" Y/n weeped

"Hey hey it's okay darling, shhh stop crying"

"B-but I just w-want-" she was cut off by Draco's lips on hers

She was taken aback but she kissed back

"It's okay darling, he may just see a pathetic girl, but I see perfection, a ray of sunshine, I think that you're perfect just the way you are, you're smart, you're a literally goddess and if anyone thinks otherwise they are clearly out of their minds"

"Thank you Draco" Y/n said smiling slightly

[im-ovulating]

Chapter 1

(A?n: To those who've been waiting: sorry, it took 7 months, I'm just a really bad procrastinator lmao)

Entangled Masterlist

Word Count: 795

Taglist: @ekkoismyhusband @itsalicewickedmcgee @sasa-slayer @thewifeoflevi @lukerycyja @only-my-unexistent-fiances @full-cowlings

Keigo Takami x Reader: Rapunzel AU

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

His eyes scanned the room, keeping a lookout for the guards.

They had one shot at this and if they failed they would either be imprisoned for life or be put to death. There was too much at stake for failure.

Touya and Shigaraki were setting up the rope for his drop. The guards were stationed in a large circle around their prize. They would be expecting thieves to come through the doors or one of the many secret pathways, not an ariel attack.

The crown sat in the center of the room on a pedestal. Red cushion fluffed and kept free of dust all these years. You'd honestly think they'd give up. It's been almost 18 years for god's sake, chances of the lost princess returning are slim to none.

It doesn't matter, though, not when he's so close to a life of riches and ease. He just has to make sure he finds the perfect opportunity to drop his colleagues and take off with the headpiece.

Touya sends him a curt nod. It's time. Keigo fastens the rope to his harness and starts to shimmy down through the large, open ceiling.

'How daft can these people be? Making it this easy to steal their precious tiara...' He can't help but shake his head at how unassuming the people ruling his kingdom are.

Quick and silent as a mouse, Keigo is ground level and pocketing the crown. Just as he starts to climb back up, one of the guards sneezes and he can't help but let out a snide little "Bless you" before signaling the other two to pull him up.

"Thanks," the guard sneaks a look back to acknowledge him before realizing what happened.

They're packed up and running across the castle roofs before the alarm can properly start blaring through the streets. Making their way to the farthest wall they could, they slide down the rafters and make their way into the forest.

He can hear the yelling of the Kingsmen and the thundering steps of their steeds as they chase after them, desperate to get the tiara back.

Passing by a tree, he has to stop and do a double take. There's wanted posters with a caricature of their faces, though his in particular is quite insulting.

"Excuse me!? I do NOT look like that!" he squawks. He holds the Wanted poster next to his head as he desperately looks to his companions, hoping they disagree with it.

Touya and Shigaraki share a look before grabbing him by either arm and dragging him along.

"Fine! I'm coming!" He shoves the paper in his bag as he runs.

As they continue to run, dodging arrows and sword swipes, they reach a dead end,

"C'mon guys, boost me up and I'll pull you up after me." Keigo pants.

"Sure," Touya says. "Hand over the bag first."

I- What!? You guys don't trust me?" The two stare at him unimpressed. "Wow... I'm hurt, truly."

He slips the bag over his head and passes it to Shigaraki.

Touya and him link hands to boost Keigo up and over the edge. Once up, Keigo steadies himself and turns to reach down a hand.

Just before Touya can grab it, he pulls it back.

"What the hell, Takami? Help us up!"

"Nah," he grins. He turns to leave only to be stopped by Shigaraki yelling.

"You're really gonna leave the crown?"

"Oh, You see..." He holds up the leather satchel, "I'm not leaving it; good luck boys!"

With that, Keigo disappears into the thicket just as the others are cornered by the soldiers.

He rushes through the trees and bushes a bit longer before he's intercepted by an unmanned horse. He can faintly hear the faint yelling of the name "Bakugou" which he can only assume is the horse's name.

It advances on him like a rabid dog, chasing him through the forest until he finally manages to give it the slip by hiding behind the vines of a cave.

When he hears the horse pass, he lets out a sigh. He turns to venture deeper into the cave, only to find that it's not a true cave. The back lets out to a large clearing with a waterfall and a tower in the center.

Thankfully, he saved a couple of the arrows he avoided. Using them as climbing hooks, he scales the tower.

Finally falling through the, luckily, open window, Keigo slumps against the wall. He pulls the satchel back out and opens it to peak at his prize.

"Alone at last-"

Before he can revile in his success at escaping the swordsmen and outfoxing his fellow thieves, there's a sharp -thwack- and a stinging pain that rings through his skull as his vision goes black.

[redwayfarers]

survivor - for the random word generator prompt!

hello! sorry for the wait, real life got the better of me and i didn't write, but i was reading gide and this came to me like an angel, so i had to write it! if it reads like les faux monnayeurs, i'm so sorry lmao, this is why they tell you not to write immediately after reading (affectionate)

a flickering light, or a tale of two survivors

Fandom: FFXIV Ship: Cassander/Stephanivien (implied), Nika/Minfilia Characters: Cassander Inteus (aka a Cass AU), Nika Perseis (WoL), Stephanivien de Haillenarte Rating: Gen Words: 1759 Spoilers: ARR patches, if you squint. dividers by @saradika

Set during early Heavensward.

The Skysteel Manufactory gets stupidly creepy at night. It’s not lit by torches or something, like some parts of the city - Stephanivien saw to that, he’s too avant-garde for torches, how dare the world not use every technological advancement ever! - and there’s a few of the lamps that go on and off, like a broken clock. Stephanivien is too busy to see that of all things, and we’re all far too enthralled by the creepiness to tell him. 

Some of us have weird tastes. 

The workshops on higher levels are a mess of metal parts, wires, cogs, magical devices and whatever the fuck machinists need. There’s a beauty in that too, in a way. It feels lived in, like a childhood bedroom you can’t yet leave even though you’re getting married tomorrow. Except that I was an adult when I first saw this room, and that I’d have no idea what a beloved childhood room would look, let alone feel like. My childhood bedroom - or the room where I spent a large part of what people call a childhood, anyways - is pristine, devoid of personality, rich, opulent. It’s a stage more than anything. Only thing remotely lived in in that whole fucking room - no, the whole shitty house - is the bright, orange pillow with Dzemael sigil sewn on it. 

It was embarrassing, packing your childhood pillow, the first time I left to spend the night in the Manufactory. But maybe I am embarrassing, deep down, so I get to keep my little pillow with me and go freeze in the messy, lived in workshops overnight. The more I got used to that, the less embarrassing it felt. 

One day, I might even go take it to Coerthas and drown in a river there. I’m sure my mother would be happier for it. She found the pillow rather tacky anyways. 

“It was very.. Kind of you to let me in,” I told Stephanivien one night, seated beside him to watch him work. His eyeshadow bore the signs of wearing, a little messy at the edges. His forehead gleamed with sweat. The lamp was dying, but he was too engrossed in his work to notice and I was too engrossed in him to tell him. 

“Kind? Cassander, your mother is an absolute bitch. Even if you weren’t as pretty as you are, I would have taken you in regardless. Between us, darling, you’re wasted in that house.” He smiled, widely. “You look much better with a gun in your hand, I will say.” 

“You will,” I laugh, looking at my hands. My cheeks were burning. “I think I like guns. Long ones in particular. Elegant. You may think I’m referring to something else, but no, I am referring to metal objects you use to shoot things with.”

“You’re funny,” Stephanivien shakes his head. “I can make you one, if you’d like. Golden, to match the pillow.” 

“My future gun has a bed now, who would’ve thought.” I reached out and grasped his gloved hand, dirty from the work. Stephanivien smiled, and it seemed brighter than the dying lamp above our heads. 

Maybe I’m also a little fond of that struggling, dying thing. I go up sometimes, when it’s cold, or rainy, or everyone’s simply too busy for me and my jobless ass, sit beneath it and look at the gun Stephanivien gave me. A nameday gift, engraved with a little dagger. It’s in pristine condition, but I clean it anyway, with all the care you afford a priceless, porcelain vase; the light flickers, on and off, but I don’t need it to see the little dagger engraving, the nooks and the crannies and the long barrel that feels like something my mother would hate. 

That, too, brings me joy. Theokleia de Dzemael hates machinists, on principle. The fact that I not only own a gun, but can shoot with it, is a kind of pleasure I wouldn’t have thought myself capable of some 5 years ago. 

This particular evening, I climb up the stairs to the workshop, coffee in hand, ready to clean it from the last practice from earlier. A curl that the goggles aren’t holding up tickles my temple, but I’ll be damned if I let my coffee spill just because of one stray piece of hair that refuses to sit still. I kick the door open. 

“I like your gun,” someone says before I can fully register them. A pair of mismatched eyes moves from the weapon to me and my coffee. “Did you also drink the last of the coffee?” 

“I’m not a coffee maniac,” I grumble, frowning. “I can’t drink all of it. What kind of question is that, for fuck’s everloving sake?” 

Nika looks at me with an equal furrow. However, that’s his MO, and mine is decidedly not. I have been known to grin maniacally once or twice. “One that needs answering.” 

The light flickers above our heads. It casts a sudden light onto his face, and shines a weak light onto the hazel eye and the scar on his nose and cheek. Ouch. His lips are pulled in a tight line, his short, black hair in disarray, a stark contrast to the finery of the clothes he’s wearing - courtesy of his hosts here in Ishgard. 

For a Warrior of Light, he is very gloomy and dark. An asshole, too. You’d think the Warrior of Light, of all people, would be a hero, but no, we’re stuck with a perpetually frowning asshole. What a joy. 

“What do you want? Move, I need that desk.” I place the overfilled cup down as roughly as I can. “There’s no fucking coffee here except the one on the table, and that’s mine.”

“I paid you a compliment,” he says, unmoving. “You could at least say thank you. You nobles should have manners.” 

“Je suis plein de gratitude. I know you paid me a compliment, but the question later made no sense so that had to be addressed first.” 

Nika looks at the gun again. He taps his fingers against the wood in a rhythm, three taps forward, one tap backward, three strong, one a glide, then in reverse. He then looks at his feet and takes a deep breath. “Minfilia is better at this sort of thing. She knows how to talk to you higher classes.” 

“Minfilia?” Who the fuck is this Minfilia woman? I readjust my goggles, and push the tickling curl away from my skin. Is she his lover, his sister? His friend? I can’t imagine him caring about anyone, including himself. From what little he’s been here in the Manufactory, a stray taken in by Stephanivien’s brightness much like me, all he did is make nonsense sentences and antagonize everyone. 

“Someone very dear to me. But she isn’t here, and neither is Alphinaud, so you’re stuck with me.” 

Alphinaud? Oh yeah, one of the other wards. The elezen kid. Whoever did his braid deserves to be fired because it’s needlessly messy and terrible. “Which would be fine, if you stopped speaking in riddles. Now can I sit, Warrior of Light, or will you clean my likeable gun for me? I’m not making you coffee.”

“In riddles? I’m not–” Nika frowns yet again. “Have your gun, whats-your-face.” 

“Cassander. Cassander de Dzemael.” 

“Cassander,” he says, like he’s testing the name. I look down at him. 

The light flickers. Something crosses his face, and his eyes look painfully vulnerable for a moment, and he’s tapping his fingers in the same rhythm again. 

“Why are you here, Nika?” I ask. I don’t know why my voice becomes so gentle. Maybe because I’m towering over him, and if I kept the hard edge, it would scare him off, not that I care about that. Maybe if I spoke gentler, he’d buck less under every question. Maybe he’d even start making sense. 

Or maybe the images of my mother’s hard voice echo in my head, like a hammer to the anvil. Now it is my turn to grip the table until my nail beds go a little pale. Her shouts and her yells, her derisive comments, her hard eyes and her pointed anger, and her looming, Halone’s ass, the looming! Do I sound like that? Do I sound as rough as she does? 

Nika’s quiet for a while. He keeps looking at his hands, rough and harsh. “That’s none of your business,” he rasps, but moves so that I could sit. “If someone needs me, they don’t know where to look.” 

I sit and take a long sip of my coffee. “Just mind the pillow, then. And try not to interrupt. This is something of a sacred ritual, you see. Halone-ordained. When you go to church, they tell you you must clean your gun or else she will smite you, or something.” 

He huffs. 

“Or so I hear,” I add with a shrug. “I’m not frequently in church.” 

The light flickers. 

“Minfilia would also laugh at that,” Nika says. I still have no idea who this Minfilia is, but she’s welcome to laugh at my jokes, wherever she is. “Will they fix the fucking thing?”

I take a sip of coffee. “Don’t think so. It’s rather cute. On and off. We all like weird things, I think, and my particular weird thing is this broken little lamp. Besides, I’m sure Stephanivien will notice at some point or another. When it dies, probably.”

“He’s the one making these guns, I’d rather he didn’t make me a faulty one,” Nika shrugs. “But if he sees, it’s whatever. It’s just annoying. You asked me earlier why I’m here. I was drawn to the gun. I think it has a nice shot.” He pauses. “I’m sure that the Fortemps family can pay for one of these.”

“Pretty sure they can, yeah. This one’s mine, though.” 

“I’m not in the habit of stealing people’s weapons.” 

I lift a brow. “Never said you were.” 

Nika shakes his head and heads for the door. The light flickers and he looks up. “Someone should really fix the damn thing,” he says, a little less angry than before. He’s then gone, tucking his waistcoat tighter for warmth, and I watch him go before he’s part of the shadows and I can take out my tools. 

We all like weird things. Some of us like long-barreled guns. Some of us like women named Minfilia, and speaking in riddles. And who knows? Maybe this broken little lamp refuses to die because it likes us, too. 

Halone works in weird fucking ways. 

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Make a Rich Woman Beg

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, hate sex, degradation, name-calling, slow burnish, power play/dynamics, boss/employee themes even if reader isn't technically Sam's boss, teasing, denial, tit-fucking, oral sex, fingering, some dom/sub themes if you wanted to read it that way

Words: 12.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: As the heiress of an exclusive country club, perhaps you were spoiled, and maybe you had a superiority complex, but so what? Everyone has their flaws. But your most recent flaw? The fact that some playboy pool boy refusing to worship the ground you walk on shouldn't bother you as much as it does and, unfortunately for him, you aren't one to accept anything other than exactly what you want.

18+ / MINORS DNI

(A.N.: Looking at the greta van fleet smut tag, Sam girls -- how does it feel to have three fics published in the past two days after being neglected for so long? There's too much twins, not enough rhythm section in my opinion, so I'm working on filling that gap when I can.)

~~~

“Do you think he does it on purpose?” Tara asked, dark sunglasses not giving away where she was looking, but her words pointedly specific.

Although, glasses or none, it didn’t take a genius to know who she was talking about. Amongst the long-legged, model-esque women lounging in sun chairs around the pool, there was another long-legged, model-esque person flaunting their youth and beauty. But that person was a he and he was not a rich loafer.

Oh no. He was the pool boy.

And everything he did certainly had a purpose, down to the way he brushed what you were sure were strategic wisps of hairs left out of his bun from his face. The way he wiped away the sweat from his throat by baring it unnecessarily long to show off his slender lines and sharp jaw. The way he leaned against the doorframe to the pool house as he observed all the beautiful women and loaded men like some 90’s flick love interest. The way he let his eyes droop and linger when some unfortunate soul caught them and gave that smug little smirk that you knew drove all the women here wild.

You snorted, flipping through your phone as a slight breeze caught your skin and pebbled it with goosebumps. There was enough of you on display that anything other than the sun gave you a chill, but you didn’t care. You’d grown up with most of the girls at the country club, the tennis moms all knew your parents’ names, and the gentlemen knew to keep their thoughts to themselves  – the club was exclusive enough, but if there was anyone outside the reach of outward judgment or pious scorn of the others, it would be you, heir to everything in its entirety because your parents owned the place.

You were in your element here – untouchable until you wanted to be touched, and then you had your pick of the litter, the latter something this man seemed to experience on the daily, as well. 

But that was no concern of yours. You were more dedicated to getting to your spa appointments on time than you were keeping up with who was fucking the pool boy that particular night. 

You didn’t look up from the article you were reading. “Of course he knows what he’s doing; he’s a little peacock,” you sighed, unaware that the reason she’d asked was because the man himself was coming around to your spot with a fresh pile of towels to deposit at the pickup station nearby. 

And even if you had noticed Tara’s emphasized cough, or her muttered, “Y/N,” you weren’t sure if you’d care enough to halt the blissfully casual in the way you talked about Sam. You knew his name, not because you’d ever had a full conversation with him, but because enough of the other women at the club could be overheard telling others about their nights moaning it that you knew it well enough by now. It was just one of the reasons you felt justified for the impression you had of him. 

Anyways, you weren’t exactly known for holding your tongue around these premises, so even if you’d known that Sam was within earshot, your acute observation wouldn’t have been any less true, and therefore, any less worthy to be said aloud. “He’s an attention-loving whore like every other pool boy has been in the history of this establishment. I don’t know where Rico finds them, honestly.”

“Y/N,” Tara hissed again, louder this time and followed by an embarrassed giggle, before pointing subtly to where Sam was fixing the last towel on the stack with a small shake to his head and a crook to his lips that was less than warm.

His brows picked up when he turned your way and saw you looking back to see what Tara had been pointing at, but you didn’t flinch at his wordless challenge to blush and splutter out an apology in an attempt to not look like the heartless, rich bitch stereotype that came free with a membership at this club.

Call you haughty, but you didn’t see yourself as those things. Sure, you knew what you wanted, and you knew what you had – humility just wasn’t one of those things, and you saw no wrong in knowing where you stood in a space. But pride? Pride surely was one of the things you knew you had, which was why the only answer Sam got to his cocky little power trip was a returned silent challenge: what are you gonna do about it?

His expression didn’t change, but there was an intentional hold of brazenness in his attitude as he swaggered up behind your chairs. “Good afternoon, ladies. I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation about little ol’ me. I didn’t catch it all, unfortunately,” he tsk-ed, patronizingly. His next words were directed at you, darkened slightly in an attempt to intimidate you. “Care to repeat it?”

Ah. A wordless challenge to a blatant one. “Let’s see,” you murmured back, unfazed by his imposition but not wanting to disrupt any of the other pool-goers with your tense little exchange. Not only were you unfazed, but you felt yourself become strangely excited at the potential confrontation. It was your fatal flaw – you could never just step away from a fight coming your way; you liked being right, and the sweet taste of victory was just as addictive on your tongue as money in the back of some people’s pockets was, as the filthy, secret orgies that the rich and famous partook in because they could. It made you feel powerful. “I believe I called you a peacock, and then an attention-loving whore just like all the other shirtless pool boys that come and go.”

Sam puckered out his bottom lip and simpered at you. “Oh, well isn’t that just cruel,” he bemoaned. Turning to Tara, his long middle finger just barely grazed her bare shoulder, and he leaned in, voice lowering to wring every last drop of pity from her in any way he could. “Is she mean to all the staff? Or is it just me?”

Tara huffed out a laugh, gaze trapped in the siren song of Sam’s. “Um…no, I think just you. But she’s not being mean on purpose, that’s just–”

“How you know she has a little crush?” Sam finished for her, regardless of what she was actually going to say. 

Tara looked a little put out, because it was obvious Sam was only toying with her as a means to whatever end he had in mind. It made you scoff scorchingly, turning back to your phone to signal that the time Sam had to waste from your day of wasting time had expired. “Don’t waste what little brainpower you have left in that skull – if I had a crush, you’d know it. Now, don’t you have a chair to wipe down?” you asked dismissively. “Maybe a mistress to tend to?”

Tara kept out of the conversation this time, not wanting to be brushed off again; this was clearly between you and Sam, and your indifference had quickly shifted to dislike once he put up a fight that had an edge, that wasn’t just the silly product of flirty banter.

“Nothing pressing,” Sam responded, deliberately refusing your expulsion. “I’ll leave, but I have to know something, first. I might be a peacock, sure.” His admittance held no shame; in fact, he seemed proud, almost, of his status. “My cocking around certainly hasn’t been a problem for most women; frankly, I don’t care what you think about my rotating door. But surely,” he murmured, leaning in closer under the guise of getting up, “there’s something that sets me apart from all the other attention-loving whores around here.”

Your throat burned with a reply, scathing and with salt to back up the wound you so sorely wanted to make, but Sam had taken a coward’s retreat, leaving you no time to reply with dignity as he ambled away. His face was smoothed back into that serene arrogance as he made his way back around the pool, winking at a few loungers as if he owned the place instead of worked for it. 

“Little fucker,” you sighed, reigning your spite back in. “Only small-dicked assholes leave an argument as unfinished as their women.” The pout was clear in your tone - you didn't like it when people ignored you when you didn't want them to.

Tara snorted, but shook her head. “He’s too hot for his own good, and you’re too stubborn. It would never work.”

Never work? What, an argument? You shot an arched brow towards your friend. “It doesn’t matter how hot he is, I’d dominate him in a debate.”

You were bluffing – it was obvious that the man had some wit to him, as much as the admission made your lips pucker in distaste. But you were still fairly certain that you’d come out on top if you ever had a verbal spar that he couldn’t run away from. 

Obviously, that wasn’t the answer Tara had been looking for, because she sighed as she laid back into the sun, soaking up the warmth. “Not in a debate, Y/N. Romantically. Carnally,” she teased, a small smile on her face as she knew you’d look over in offense at the prospect that you’d ever give the pool boy, who’d been around the block a few times, a pass to your bed. 

“Oh god,” you scoffed, “you can have him. Please. Just keep him far away from me.”

…

Seeing as the pool made you unreasonably grumpy for the next couple of days, you spent your time doing other things. Yoga, pottery, cooking lessons, the dog run – they were all just as satisfying as laying by the pool was. Plus, it meant you didn’t have to see Sam, who you’d been content to forget about until Tara showed up at your room one day for lunch looking disheveled. 

You didn’t pry, per se, but you made it clearly known that you wanted to know why she was in such a state, and eventually she’d come clean about having spent the night with the very man you claimed not to care about in a negative nor a positive way – he wasn’t worth it, after all.

But as she’d laid on your bed, recounting how many times he’d made her come, how he’d cleaned her up and taken a shower with her afterwards, how he’d invited her to spend the night with him instead of kicking her out of his quarters – a knot grew in the pit of your stomach, something ugly at the center of it.

Far from wanting to make her experience about you, you didn’t say anything at the time, only humming and interjecting with appropriate phrases every now and then. But you couldn’t help but think back to how he’d used Tara at the pool to get to you, and wonder if this was the same. Wondered if he knew she’d come and tell you everything in hopes you’d hear.

Now that, perhaps, was a more fitting behavior of the self-centeredness most expected from women of your status and inherited wealth. The narcissism. After all, Sam was a known player in a game you weren’t keen on participating in and, at the end of the day, the small tiff you’d had by the pool was the longest conversation you’d ever had with him. 

Perhaps he’d forgotten about you by the time he locked the pool gates that night, and perhaps his tryst with Tara so soon after was coincidence, or because her name was the next on his list. But you supposed being around it all your life tuned you into the intentional behavior of others  – your own mother was the one who’d told you, at the ripe age of 12, that sharks were still invisible to other sharks in the water, and that you always needed to keep your head swiveling. 

“All I can say is that…” she glanced over, knowing that you were gritting your teeth and bearing it for her benefit, but still finishing her thought anyways, “He definitely doesn’t leave his women unfinished.”

Your lips quirked up at Tara’s statement, and even though you had living evidence that he didn’t, still found every cell in your body unable to admit that perhaps Sam wasn’t as incapable as you wanted him to be. Not as much a bimbo, not as much a careless pretty-boy as he seemed.

You weren’t used to not getting what you wanted, but that was the problem with people, wasn’t it? Factors out of your control and reach.

“Well…” You chewed on your words for a moment, not wanting to spit them out without proper filtering. “I’m glad you got what you wanted, even if your partner was a bit…inferior.” Tara raised her brows, shocked at your blatant classism, but you just smiled. “Intellectually, of course.”

Him being the pool boy had nothing to do with your spite. Not really.

Well...if in part, only because you were used to being waiting on, hand and foot, and Sam’s disregard for the people who paid his bills spoke of an arrogance you couldn’t stand. But god, did you sound like a bitch, no matter which way you put it.

…

As fate would have it (and a bottle of wine, as well), you found yourself out walking later that night, down towards the pool in an unconscious search to finish your argument from days before. If you were bold and brash sober, with a little alcohol in you, it was only exacerbated.

Your path wasn’t a beeline to the pool; it was unconscious, after all, but after meandering the grounds for a while, you’d found yourself staring at the locked gate, so deep into a mental debate with a made-up Sam who was a stuttering mess of a douchebag that you didn’t hear the rustle of someone coming down the path until you were faced with the real Sam, who seared you with an unimpressed stare as you each waited for the other to speak. 

Finally, Sam broke the silence. “Is there something I can help you with or should I leave you to fantasize about me outside my place of work? How often do you do this?” he asked condescendingly, taking a key from his pocket and walking right past you.

While he words technically rang true, you certainly weren't fantasizing about him in any normal regard, at all. “The only thing I fantasize about when it comes to you is watching as security escorts you off the property.”

Sam whistled, appraising you again with that god-awful, lazy look. “That’s a bit of a leap from the last time we spoke. All because I peacock around the pool that I work at?” 

No. No, actually – it was because he was disrupting your flow, and you didn’t know why you were letting him. By all means, you should care much less than you really did about Sam’s presence. His very existence. But something about him wriggled under your skin and locked onto a part of your brain that only bled disdain and a poorly-managed superiority complex. 

“Peacock all you want, pool boy,” you said, shaking yourself out of your daze. “It makes no difference to me. I’m here because…I left something. My watch.”

You didn’t wear a watch. They were too clunky, no matter how expensive they were, and if you did have one, the pool would be the last place you would wear it. Why would you want a wrist-strap tan line?

Sam apparently didn’t pick up on it, though, because he sighed and motioned you in. The deck was dark save a couple of lamps that served as security, and Sam took another key and unlocked the office door. “Any other night, you’d have been waiting until the sun came up again,” he warned, shuffling a few things around on the desk until he pocketed a slip of plastic. “You’re lucky I left my meal card here. Lost and found is in the bottom drawer.”

You eyed him, and he nodded to the door by his shins, making no move to open it. He did, however, stare at you as you leaned down to get your hand on the handle, tugging before you felt the resistance of a lock. You huffed, righting yourself and glaring at the man. “It’s locked.”

He nodded. “I know. I was the one who locked it.”

“Then why did you tell me to open it if you knew it was locked?” Everything he did seemed to have the sole intention to get you to act as he wanted you to, and you hated being played. This whole situation was stupid, and you would consider asking your parents to send you somewhere else for a few weeks to right yourself where Sam had lopped off your ability to be level-headed if that wouldn’t imply that Sam had run you off of your own pitch.

Sam crossed his arms and took a step forward, but you didn’t let him push you around this time, so you were stuck staring him down as he got closer. “Because I know you didn’t leave your made-up watch here.” Shit. He had noticed. “Why were you really here, Y/N? It’s just you and me here,” he cooed, eyes alight with mischief. “Tell me. Why do you hate me so much? What is it about me that makes you squirm?”

God, you wished you could tell him, but you didn’t know the answer. Perhaps if you looked deep enough, you could find it, but that wasn’t on your bucket list. The way he seemed so cock-sure of himself and what he mistook as a raging playground crush really ground your gears, and you pushed him away a bit with a finger on his bony chest. “Please,” you murmured, keeping your eyes firmly locked on his, “I have more important things to do than the trampy pool boy. Don’t flatter yourself.” The denial of the accusation was weak, at best. For all that you’d told Tara that you’d best Sam, you seemed to have lost your words now that you were alone.

Sam searched your face for any tell of a lie, and when he found none, he pulled back, smooth façade back into place. “I don’t think you know why you're here.” 

Bullseye, and you hated it.

“Oh, I do," you disagreed, contrary to you own inner confusion. "It's because I know you think that I’m a rich, spoiled, Daddy's girl,” you said, keeping his attention and prompting him to shrug in agreement. “I know you think we’re all just wastes of space in society. I see the way you use and discard the women here, and I'm here because I don’t want to be one of them.”

Sam’s face twisted into something unpleasant. “Then don’t be. I don’t force anyone to sleep with me, god–”

You cut him off with a hand. “I know,” you said, quieter. “I just hate that part of me is still interested.”

The confession discredited everything you'd just said, and you stopped in your tracks, horrified and entirely surprised that those words had come from your lips.

Once he knew he wasn’t being accused of anything nonconsensual, Sam relaxed again, rolling his tongue in his mouth as if your semi-admittance of wanting him was a 5-star meal, and he leaned against the sliver of wall between the doorframe and the desk. “I won’t tell,” he smirked, whispering conspiratorially.

“No.” You shut down the prospect immediately. You didn’t know where your little confession had come from, or why you were telling Sam, who happened to be the object of your ‘should I, shant I.’ Deeply in denial, you wish the little sprout of truth would just bury itself in the ground again, but it had already been seen. “I’m not one of your games.”

Sam let a small, smug smirk crawl up the corners of his mouth. “The women here like games. Tennis, BINGO, mini golf, poker – you name it. And they like it when I play with them, too.” He fixed you with a steady gaze, challenging you to argue what he was about to say next. “And you are exactly like all the other women here.

Your chest tightened, and you got a sick sense of arousal from the casual way he spoke about the women you regularly dined with, the ones you knew by name. What was wrong with you? Just a few days ago, you’d wanted nothing but to get Sam alone so that you could give him a piece of your mind, and now you were letting him stand on his self-appointed pedestal and look down on you like he had since he acknowledged you existence.

You wondered if he knew who you were, but you figured that would reveal itself in time, when you eventually did slip it into conversation. If he fixed up that problem of an attitude, all would be righted. If he didn't, then you didn't know what you'd do. That would be a brand-new scenario for you.

“Did you sleep with Tara to make a point?" you asked instead, not intending to drop that bomb yet. "Was her piece in your game intentional or just another coincidental pawn?”

With a quirk of his brows, Sam scoffed. “Everything’s always about you, isn’t it?”

You shook your head, running your tongue across your teeth. “Not everything," you denied. Just most things. Around here, at least, they could be. "But I think you’re selfish, and petty, and egotistic enough to make an exception when it comes to women who don’t fall at your feet just to get a taste of something different from their usual menu.”

Sam toed the door open further from where it had crept in with a draft. “What was it that you said,” he asked, mulling it over facetiously. “Oh, right. Don’t flatter yourself. Your friend came to my door. She knocked last night because she’d asked someone for my room number, and then she told me that she wanted me to fuck her, so I did,” he told you simply. “It had nothing to do with you. You were never a thought in the room.”

Again, hearing about his conquest of yet another woman at the club, your stomach clenched, and a deeply repressed part of your brain wanted to play into the hot pool boy, rich employer trope, even if you weren’t technically his employer. Not yet, at least. Soon, though, you intended to become more active in shadowing your parents. Perhaps you could start by fixing this staffing issue.

“That’s not how she told it.”

“Of course that’s not how she told it,” he scoffed, lips curling. “Why would she tell you about how she begged for it? About how she showered me with compliments and pulled my hair and about how wet she was when I fingered the fuck out of her or about how she told me how well my cock filled her up–”

“Shut up,” you snapped, face reddening. “Stop trying to make this about something it’s not. If you want to recount everything that happened, invest in a diary.”

You weren't jealous. That wasn't it, if that was the angle he was playing.

But Sam wouldn’t stop, and with each act he let out of his mouth, he took a step towards you. “Why would she tell that to someone as judgemental, snobby, and condescending as you–”

But hell no. Absolutely not. In no world would Sam the pool boy get away with calling anyone condescending with the medals he held for pretentious behavior displayed towards others. “Fuck you, calling the kettle black,” you spat, temper flaring.

But Sam met you halfway, pointing an accusing finger in your direction, “It takes one to know one, so don’t even try to go there.” 

He was insufferable. Everything about him made you want to rip your hair out and swan dive into the shallow end of the pool, but you simultaneously wanted to fuck him, and it was tearing you in two and giving you indigestion.

“How anyone can stand you is a mystery to me,” you huffed, patting your pockets to make sure you had everything, even though you’d never put anything down in the first place, and fully intended on stalking out, away from Sam, who was still lingering unnecessarily close.

He scoffed. “You’re the one who came here without knowing why. Freud, anyone?” 

“Don’t throw Freud in my face.” You needed to leave. Needed to gain a little clarity, to ruminate on these new discoveries about yourself. Or, at least address it without the scent of sunscreen and saltwater in your nose and an unbuttoned shirt staring you in the face. “I think we’re done here.”

“I’m not sure why we were here in the first place.”

He watched with guarded eyes as your gaze flitted towards the open door, and then they dipped further down your face when you hesitated, body turned towards him but every line still aggressive and confrontational. “Then you won’t mind locking up after you leave after me.”

“Fine. That’s my job.”

“Fine. Good. I’m glad you know your place.” 

“The only place I have is inside every little friend you have here that isn’t as much of a stuck up bitch as you are.” 

Nearly sharing breath at this point, your chest heaved slightly as you tried to take in more air, convinced that he would kiss you right then and fuck you like he had the others without you having to admit that you wanted him to at all. But your tongue was still sharp, even if your senses had been dulled until Sam was the laser focus of them all. “That’s none of my business; I hope you have fun being the neighborhood bicycle.”

“I will,” he said with a patronizing smile, even if it didn’t match the way he leaned in even closer. “I always do.” With a tensed jaw and a grind of his teeth, Sam squeezed his eyes shut and let out a rough breath that fanned across your face. You shifted on your feet, and your thigh grazed the front of his shorts.

He was hard, but you didn’t say anything about it. You couldn’t say anything at all, at the moment, too close to something to want to ruin it. Everything about his body communicated that the tension between the two of you would be resolved.

The next step between the two of you was teetering on the edge of realization, but Sam met your eyes, pupils blown out and lids hooded, but shook his head. “No.”

His denial of the unspoken twisted your gut and, too proud to give him what he wanted, you shrugged as if it was no skin off your nose and breezed out of the office without another word. 

You knew getting the last word was not always the way to win an argument, so you let his petty rejection stretch out behind you and dissipate into the darkening sky, beautiful in the sunset. Not that you noticed. Needing something – anything, to get your mind off of Sam and the embarrassing presence of wetness being your legs, you stopped a little further down the path, right near where it split to go towards the stables, and tipped your head back to the sky, letting out a big sigh filled by, “Fuck.”

You couldn’t deny it anymore – you wanted him. You wanted him, and you knew what he wanted. He wanted you to beg. To breakdown and ask. But you very rarely had to ask for what you wanted around here, and you weren’t going to start now for an asshat like Sam.

That’s what you told yourself as you met your parents for a late dinner. 

That’s what you told yourself as you wound down with a personal masseuse. 

That’s what you told yourself as your fingers crept down your body as you soaked in your bathtub, and it’s what you told yourself even after you accidentally splashed an armful of water onto the tile with how hard you came thinking about him. And after you grew frustrated when your orgasm didn’t satisfy the throb in your center. 

But it certainly wasn’t what you told yourself when you found your way to the front desk and begrudgingly asked for Sam’s room number, not an eyebrow raised your way because of your status. Had it been any other woman, more care would be taken in who that information was dealt out to, but not for you.

However, even when you had the information, you found yourself hesitating outside his door, stuck in a loop of want and pride. It took all of one very small thump as you rested your forehead on the wood to decide that one night was not worth your dignity. In fact, you’d been about to turn and leave when the door opened on its own and Sam stood in the frame, shirtless, hands braced on either post, and fixed you with a smug expression that ticked his features up.

Before he could get a word out, you spit, “I was just leaving.”

“After standing outside my door for the past 5 minutes?” Dammit – just what didn’t this man know? “You seem to end up in my space more than what one can call coincidentally.” When you didn’t leave, nor did you speak. Because he was right. Perhaps Freud did have a place in the conversation. Sam crooked a brow. “Well…if you’re gonna stand there and just…not leave, come in, I guess.”

There was no internal debate this time and, silently, you stepped into his room. You realized after seeing his pajama pants and a towel laid out on his bed that he must have been about to shower, and that was further cemented when he shucked his pants off, leaving only his boxers, and then grabbed everything from his bed, casting an amused glance in your direction. “I’m not stopping for you,” he said flippantly before heading to the bathroom and leaving the door open.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised at his bold behavior anymore, but you still instinctively looked away when his pants came off. You weren’t sure if either of you really knew what you were doing or what was happening but, the door seemed like an invitation and though you didn’t plan on taking another shower today, it beckoned you towards the bathroom.

The small room was quickly filling with steam and, through the mirror, you caught Sam’s bare ass as he climbed into the shower cubicle, the glass around it steamed just so that you could only make out the blurry outline of the naked man. 

You were a voyeur here, not having asked to watch, but having been invited, and you took the opportunity to receive anything that Sam gave up without you having to say one word to him. If you opened up your lips, you weren’t sure if what came out would properly keep your reputation, and you’d be damned before the pool boy gained one inch in this war you were waging.

But oh, you were sorely tempted to when his reflection in the mirror lifted a hand and intentionally wiped away a spot near his hips, so that there was a clear view to how he reached between his legs and sucked in a breath, hand wrapped around his cock as the other planted itself on the wall. 

Without consciously telling your body to, you moved further into the room, around to a small bit of space that separated the toilet and the sink, where you dug your nails in and watched as Sam’s elbow moved back and forth, deep breaths filled with steam barely audible over the sound of running water. 

The head of his cock peeked out from his fist every time he squeezed down at the base, and he grunted when he brushed his thumb over the tip on the way up, feet shifting as his hips bucked into the sensation. “Jesus,” he grunted, head hanging lower than his braced arm, looking directly where he was touching himself. Or, perhaps he was stealing side-eyed glances at you which, after hearing him groan high in his throat with a murmured, “Oh, god…shit,” escaping from his lips, was likely the more probable answer. Although with his own narcissistic habits, perhaps he liked the view. Auto-eroticism or something.

Regardless, your own hand had snuck down again, and you were helpless in your search for the same pleasure Sam was giving himself, dragging the pads of your fingers through the slick mess down there, clit singing with pleasure as you circled it until you felt like your knees were going to give out.

Just a few minutes later, Sam gasped and moved his hand faster, fist flying across his dick as he tilted his head back. “Holy shit – holy fuck, ah– ahh,” he moaned, a hard ‘guh’ sound finishing out his syllables as he sucked in air. He tugged at his cock sporadically, and you could only imagine the spurts of come he stroked out of himself hitting the wet tile and washing down the drain immediately, all evidence washed away. 

The high whimper that escaped your throat as you came as well, clutching the edge of the sink and rubbing furiously at the little bundle of nerves under your fingers while you wished you had something to clench around as your walls contracted, seemed loud in the silence that followed Sam’s orgasm, and he groaned a bit as he listened.

Without washing his hair or soaping his body, Sam shut the water off and squeezed the excess out of his hair quickly, sliding the door open and locking eyes with you as he closed in. You were backed against the unforgiving line of the counter, your hand still tucked into the waistband of your pants as you came down, but as Sam closed the space between you at a lightning pace, you jerked it out.

That one small movement brought the skin of your knuckles scraping against his cock due to how close he was, and he gritted out a strangled sound at the overstimulation, the product of his own action. “You drive me absolutely insane,” he huffed into your face. He didn’t specify if it was in a good way or in a bad one.

“Ditto,” you breathed. The fingertips that had just been tucked in the warmth of your cunt grazed his stomach until he grabbed your wrist and lifted those digits to his mouth, staring you down as he flattened his tongue, dragged it up, and then encased the entirety of your middle and ring fingers in his mouth, suctioning and letting his tongue dance around each knuckle.

When he popped them out of his mouth, he said, “Say it.” He knew you were aware of what he wanted, so there was no need to waste words on asking you specifically to lower yourself down to where he wanted you and beg him to fuck you.

You shook your head.

“You have to ask for anything you get from me,” he said in response, shaking his head. “You get everything for free, but not from me.”

Since he had no qualms in taking what he wanted, though, he flexed his hips and ground his quickly-recovering dick across the fabric of the sweats you’d thrown on for the walk over. Perhaps it felt better than he’d anticipated, or maybe he really was just some hyper-sexual young adult, but as he continued his slow thrusts against you, he readjusted and seemed to lose himself in the feeling, eyes fluttering when you pushed your thigh forward for him to grind against harder.

This was fine. You didn’t mind having the control.

“Come on, Sam,” you murmured, pressing your palm into the small of his back to scoot him closer. “You know I won’t ask you. But you can hump my leg like a bitch in heat however long you want.”

He let out a shuddery breath and his dick jumped at your words, but he pulled away quickly regardless, still unwilling to take your shit. “Just because it seems like you want that too – no thanks.” And then he turned, newly hard and seeking touch, and grabbed his pajamas from where they were laid on the closed toilet seat. 

You took a deep, frustrated breath in, but followed him out into the main room again, crossing your arms and pouting when you saw he’d already gotten the material up his body - even if it tented out - and was settling into the mattress on top of the blankets. You were sick and tired of waiting for him to give you what you wanted, so you didn’t stop following him at the edge of the bed, and instead climbed on and then up his body.

Now, technically, you were on your knees but, since Sam was on his back, you counted the positions as canceled out when it came to power dynamics, and that was something you were very aware of here, in Sam’s space.

In this position, it would have been easy to make a connection where you both wanted it, but Sam didn’t let your hips lower enough to create any friction for you or for him. “Stubborn,” he muttered.

“Bull-headed,” you replied, and then slithered out of his grasp. He let you, and propped himself up on an arm to watch as came face-to-face with his covered erection. Knowing that he wouldn’t let you touch him directly, you pushed your luck and instead raked your nails down his stomach and across his happy trail, veering off afterwards to sink them into the meat of his thighs.

His abdomen tensed and flexed as you looked up at him from under your lashes, but still, he didn’t give in to your silent question and said, “Use your words. Ask me so that I can hear you say, ‘Sam, please let me suck your cock’ and you can give me all the head you want.” 

“That’s a little backwards,” you remarked, fingers still crawling across his legs. “I’ve got dildos I can suck on if I wanted something in my mouth. You don’t have anything I don’t already own.”

Sam’s eyes darkened as he gazed down at you, flicking a strand of hair away from your forehead. “You’d just love to own me, wouldn’t you? Then you wouldn’t have to ask to use your toys, hmm?”

His words sent a lightning bolt of arousal through you, and your hips chased friction without your say-so, but the mattress was too flat to give you any relief. “One of these days I’ll own this place, then what?” you asked breathlessly. Obviously, you didn’t mean a single word of what you said – you weren’t into illegal business or gross misconduct between an employer and employee, but he’d opened a Pandora’s Box you weren’t even aware you housed in your body.

“I’ll find another hoity-toity club to fuck my way through. Got a job here, it was easy enough.”

At the mention of his activities, you squeezed his hips, hard. You hoped you’d leave bruises, but Sam didn’t react other than a flex of his ass, just out of reach. “Oh please,” you mocked, darting down to steal a lap of your tongue against his skin, “everyone knows you and the golf caddy get high on the greens every night. What is he, your best friend? He’s been around longer than you, I know that. He got you this job, didn’t he?”

Sam blinked down at you, taken aback for a moment. Ha. Finally, a leg to play up. “Shut up,” he spit, very little heat behind the words. You wouldn’t expect anything else – you don’t know if you’d go through with this if the two of you didn’t still fight just for the sake of the adrenaline and excitement that came with it. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Uh oh,” you clucked, resting your chin on his belly button, just so that your throat would be pressed against his cock. You felt every twitch and jump, as well as his initial bump up into you, and hoped that he felt the vibration of every word that came from your mouth. “It seems like someone doesn’t like it when his women aren’t as vapid as they let on.” 

What could you say – you took an interest in psychology when your parents began forming you into their perfect successor, and Daddy had immediately hired a private tutor for you some years ago so that you could study it alongside business. And Sam was an open textbook – he was just like you: intelligent, privileged, perfectly satisfied with being handed things on a silver platter but never able to turn away from a challenge. You might as well have been reading words straight off of the page. 

“Just because you looked at my file doesn’t mean you aren’t the same dumb bitch you were before.”

His words stung, but in the best way. In a way that stoked the fire of your temper. Angry sex was superior, and you could feel all your emotions growing hotter, more volatile, until they were simmering just below boiling point. “Maybe I shoulda fucked him instead. Daddy always did say he liked the curly-haired caddy. Can’t see why he’d waste his time on someone like you.”

“Danny wouldn’t glance in your direction, Y/N. He’s too good for you. I wouldn’t let him.” 

It was the first time your name had painted his lips, and you smiled at the use. So he did know who you were all this time. “And you aren’t?”

Sam cocked his head. “Why do you think I haven’t touched that soaked pussy that I know you’re dying to get your fingers on again? Tell me,” he asked, eyes burrowing into you, “was that the first time you’ve played with yourself thinking about me?” You didn’t hesitate giving a small, coy shake of your head. “Have you fucked yourself with that dildo you say you own wishing it were mine?”

This time you shrugged. “Maybe. I’m about to go get it, though, since you’re the worst guy I’ve ever been in bed with. Hell, maybe I’ll just knock on one of your neighbors’ doors, see if they think they’re too good for me or not.” To really hammer your point home, you stretched back into a downward dog pose, letting your face gently drag across his cock, and then lifted onto your knees, not touching him at all. “I’ll let them fuck me. I’ll beg them to. I’ll gag on their cock, and I’ll let them put their tongue anywhere they want to. I’ll take off my shirt,” you said breathily, grabbing one breast in your hand and moaning when you gently pinched your nipple through your shirt, “and maybe, if they beg me extra pretty, I’ll get down on my knees and put their dick between my tits. Fuck, Sam – you can imagine how hot that’ll be, right? How much your neighbors will like that?”

Sam looked up at you as he reached down to palm himself through his pants, trying not to look as affected as you knew he was. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promised, but he didn’t make any effort to move. You knew he wouldn’t be able to end the night without some sort of closure., though. “And if you leave right now, you never will.”

A promise and a threat, all wrapped up in one package that was still being withheld from you.

“Well, I’d make sure you heard, so at least you’d have that,” you simpered, shooting and exaggerated frown his way and swallowing harshly. “All alone in your room, listening to some other staff member get a tit-job because you were too dumb to know what I wanted. That’s a sad reality.” 

Sam’s breath quickened and he took his hand away from his cock in a show of great restraint, instead sitting up so that his head was level with your chest. His big brown eyes looked up at you sweetly, if analytically, and you were suspicious of his change in attitude. “You’re really not gonna ask on your own?” 

Without a word, you shook your head. No. You weren’t. 

He seemed to mull things over in his head before taking in a deep, defeated breath. “Then I guess…I surrender,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. “I can’t take it anymore, Y/N, you win just…touch me, and let me touch you. I’m too hard to fight you right now.”

His words were muffled in your skin, and you placed your hand on the back of his head, the damp strands tangling between your fingers. You didn’t trust him, but the relief was too great to push him away.

He sucked his way up your throat, pressing a kiss to your fluttering pulse before coming to rest nose-to-nose. “I don’t think you’ve given up at all,” you said, running a finger underneath his waistband. “I’m onto you.”

“That’s right,” Sam nodded, nudging your face with his. “I want you on me. Just for tonight, just so that we can both get what we want, and then we can go back to hating each other.” He closed the gap, and finally, after waiting for longer than you were used to, kissed you.

You noticed his redirection and deflection straight away, but the taste of his tongue was a more pressing matter at hand, so you let him pull you in closer, taking kiss after desperate kiss, and paw you with his big hands. It was all pouring in, everything you wanted, and insofar, you hadn’t had to ask for it, so you let him continue.

Your shirt came off, and Sam groaned when saw your bare breasts, unhindered by a bra. Immediately, he got to worshiping them, holding them up to his mouth so that he could ravenously suck on them, letting your nipples pass through his lips before gathering them in his mouth again, one after the other, until he pressed your tits together and buried his face in them. “Will you still let me fuck them, Y/N? Please?” he begged, dragging his tongue up your chest. “God, you made me so hard talking about it. I didn’t want to come, but I was so close and you weren’t even touching me.”

He sounded so desperate. So genuine, that you figured you’d still have the power over his pleasure and gave in, saying, “Yeah. You can fuck my tits, Sam, since you asked so nicely.”

Because the floor was uncomfortable, you just lowered yourself, letting your chin catch on his skin as you descended, and he groaned at the visual, immediately backing off when you gathered his wrists in your hands and pushed them away as he tried to take his pants off himself. Instead, you insisted on being the one to hook your fingers into the plaid and tug until it pooled at his feet, and then surprised him by dipping down and taking his tip in your mouth, holding it on your tongue as you suckled lightly.

“Oh fuck!” he cried out, hand flying to the back of your head. “Shit, Y/N, you can’t do that to me. I have a reputation to maintain.”

You let him slip out of your mouth and smiled sweetly. “You didn’t seem to care about my reputation when you asked me to beg for what I wanted.”

Sam licked his lips and swallowed. “And I’m regretting that now,” he assured you.

Humming in satisfaction, you gave him one more lick, then retrieved the lube from where Sam directed you, clicking the cap open before letting Sam watch as you drizzled it between your breasts, his Adam’s apple bobbing and eyes never blinking. “Come here, Sam,” you instructed, manhandling him by his thighs forward. The mattress gave under his feet, and you felt the flex of his legs to keep himself upright. “Now, say please.”

You thought that he might say no for a second, but he just rolled his shoulders and put his bottom lip out. “Please?” he inquired. He couldn’t contain the rock forward into friction as soon as you laid his dick against your sternum, gently cupping your breasts and pushing them together around it and giving him a nod to signal that he was okay to start moving.

Since you were too far away to hold onto at any point on your body other than your head, as he began thrusting into the pillowy weight of your tits, he made do, even bending at the knees to get a better angle and a more anchored hold.

“Feel good, Sammy?” you asked quietly. You weren’t getting any stimulation from this, but watching the expressions of pleasure washing across Sam’s face as he tried to keep the wanton noises in was enough for now. Power. You were getting your pleasure from power.

He nodded, trying to wet his dry lips as his hips moved on their own accord, the unstable footing he had on the mattress throwing off any rhythm he established. Still, his face screwed up as he pitched up, breath uneven. “Yeah, I– it’s so good, Y/N,” he whined, a whole different person than the one who refused to give into you just a little bit ago. He let out a breathy chuckle. “They’re obviously not just for show. And I’ve watched you show them off, every fucking day you’re laid out in that little swimsuit of yours.”

It gave you an inordinate amount of pleasure to know that he’d noticed you and that he wasn’t as impervious to your presence as he’d been leading you to believe. As a reward for his little slip of honesty, you ducked and stuck out your tongue, the tip of his cock hitting the slick muscle each time it peeked out from in-between the tops of your breasts. And Sam faltered, staying buried in the warm cocoon of skin as he shifted forward and tried to get more of your tongue on his dick. 

It was obvious he was getting close with the small shake of his legs, trying to hold Sam’s tall figure up on shaky ground while he was chasing pleasure, so you let go of your tits, freeing his cock, and Sam protested. “Wait, just– just a little more, please,” he asked, gently guiding you onto your back before stripping off the rest of your clothes and taking your hands to resume the position laying down. “Like this,” he said before he straddled your chest and guided his dick back to the warm, slick channel it made, eyes closing and mouth falling open as he rode you. “Good god, save me,” he pled, back where he wanted to be. “Just like this.”

From here, you had a better view of the faces he made, and the ripple of subtle muscle under tanned skin as he moved his body. He lifted his hands to grasp the top of the headboard, using it to steady himself as he put more force into the punch of his hips, at the mercy your control over how tightly you pressed your breasts together. You could give him a nice, tight grip, or you could tease him, relaxing your hands and watching as he chased a barely-there friction. God, you felt drunk off of it. 

The drag of his balls against the top of your stomach along with the sensation of each ridge on his cock against your skin made you squirm, and you were ready to move on, having sufficiently allowed Sam to fulfill his little fantasy that you’d put in his head. 

Even though he made a weak objection when you let your breasts go slack and fall away with gravity, he didn’t fight you when you pushed his hips away so that you were eye-to-eye once more. However, he also didn’t let you get a word in before he resumed his writhe, his cock brushing against your pubic hair until he readjusted so that he was in-between your thighs, and increased the pressure of his grind until he was able to nestle himself against your soft, warm, wet core, your lips cradling him as he collected dewey slick with each thrust. 

Now that he was catching your clit with each shift, you craved him more than ever. He was so close, and if he pulled back just a bit, and angled himself just so, he could slip inside your body and show you what the fuss was about.

But first, you needed to get him in a condom. In fact, you probably shouldn’t have let him near you without one, knowing how many women he’d fucked over the course of his employment. “Condom, Sam. Who knows if I’m the first girl you’ve fucked even today, little slut.”

Sam let out a displeased whine, but he held you tighter, and you knew he was still getting off on the animosity. He pulled away, though, knowing you were right, and went right back to what he’d been doing once any excess lube had been wiped away and the latex had been rolled on. Lips at your neck, he licked and sucked a mark into you, grunting as he worked up to your lips again. “Let me taste you,” he pleaded. “I know you’ve been so worked up today. I’ll make you come, princess, I promise.”

You fisted his hair and he gasped out a curse, lashes fluttering. “Show me what that tongue of yours can do besides nettle the hell out of people, then.”

Sam groaned at your acquiescence and immediately trekked down your body, pausing to suck each tit into his mouth as if in thanks for providing a soft place to land for a while, and then continued down, physically wrapping your thighs around his ears so that there was no space left for him to breath.

“Sam,” you chuckled, genuinely amused. “We’re not gonna fuck if you suffocate yourself.”

As if it was the most irritating thing in the world, Sam groaned and reluctantly let you spread your legs wider so that he could reach his final destination. “Mmmm,” he hummed, flicking his tongue out to catch the crease where your thigh met your pelvis. With a deep breath in through his nose, he kissed your lips softly, bringing his gaze to look up at you. “You smell delicious. Let’s see how wet you really are.”

Watching as he spread you apart and never breaking eye contact until he dipped below the line of your stomach, the tip of his tongue running from your entrance to your clit and then down again, tracing a map of each nerve that lit you up and made your legs twitch. “Oh god,” you gasped, relishing in the feeling. You could tell he was just warming up.

Once he was more familiar with what made you tick, he gave you everything, fitting his top lip against the very top of your cleft and letting it rest there as he settled in for the long run, tongue laving hot pressure against your clit, softer than your fingers, more human than a vibrator.

He flicked and soothed, drew and stayed still for you to grind against his tongue, and at times he brought his teeth and lips up, chin grazing the wet skin below as he rapidly used his whole to complete a lick, suck, teeth, lip combo, each round allowing explicit noises to escape, from his own grunts and gasps to the suction and wet connection between your cunt and his mouth. And when he added his fingers, pressing one in but immediately following it with another, your stomach clenched and your back had arched up a bit, a curse and a multitude of other noises leaving the barrier of your lips to let Sam know that what he was doing was working. “That’s it, Sam,” you nodded as he curved his calloused fingers up. “Good. Right there. Shit, yes,” you sighed, sinking into the pleasure. 

With his mouth dutifully attached to your clit, he was in no state to speak, and when he disconnected from you, he followed it up with a series of kisses and undulations that let you feel a spectrum of pleasure only your toys gave you.

Seeing as you’d already come two times prior, you didn’t know how tired your body would be after your next, so you gave him a short tug on his locks and watched as his hips twitched in time with it. “Alright, enough.”

Sam looked up, mouth wet as he ran his tongue around the perimeter of it. “Already?” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes but gave him a small smile, pulling him up and allowing him to replace his mouth with his cock, sighing in relief when he resumed the position he’d been in before his meal, all of him pressed against all of you with a small rock to stave off the edge of desperation.

“Come on, you said I hadn’t seen anything yet. Where’s the bravado? Where’s the bedroom master that I’ve been hearing about?” you taunted in his ear, your words offset by the way you swiveled your hips and attempted to get him where you needed him to be. “Or was that it?”

He didn’t answer you, only reached down and grasped his cock, positioning himself at your entrance so that all he had to do was push.

But he didn’t.

The lips against your throat shifted into a grin that you couldn’t see, but could feel, and you groaned instantly, knowing that you’d been lulled into a false sense of security. You knew he'd been up to something. “Oh, you conniving little–”

Sam took your lip between his teeth and bit down. No blood was drawn, but the force was enough to make it swell and indent the shape of his front two teeth. It was effective in making the insult shrivel up and die, and Sam used his hand to run his tip up and down your pussy, never giving you anything more. “We’re playing chess, darling,” he murmured in your ear. “You said it yourself – you didn’t trust me. Were my pawns that convincing?”

Yes, they were. His desperation, his compliance, his constant feed into your power complex. But you’d played chess before – it wasn’t your favorite game, but you could hold your own. Your mother was a chess champion, though, and she’d always told you the same thing–

Never take your eyes off the Queen.

Sam paused altogether, not inside of you, but pushing so that you could feel the resistance. “We’re gonna stay here for as long as it takes for you to make a decision,” he whispered in your ear, gloating, but calm at the same time. He was back in the driver's seat of his own actions, and he was trying to reach over to commandeer the wheel of yours, as well. “Say stop, and I’ll get off. You can leave.”

“Don’t tell me there’s only one other option,” you said, your bad feeling that there was unfortunately just one way to proceed only complemented by Sam’s dark chuckle. 

“You’re really not that dumb. All the time, at least,” he scorned. “The only option to get what you want is to ask for it. And, since you wanted to lord yourself over me so badly earlier, let me return the favor: you’ll have to ask for it, and don’t forget to say please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, already dreading what was coming. But there was no way you were going to tell him to stop – not with his dick poised so intimately against you. “Sam,” you said, and he gazed down at you, raised eyebrows as if he was interested and curious about what you had to say. “Sam. I want you to fuck me.” He said nothing, only looked at you expectantly. “Please,” you tacked on, teeth clenched and nose wrinkling at the word.

“But I already did, Y/N,” he tsk-ed. “I finger fucked you, I fucked you with my tongue – you really are just a spoiled heiress, aren’t you? You have so much, you’ll have to be more specific.”

You pinched him, and for your efforts, he reared back and gripped each wrist in his fingers, away from his body and against the bed. You had no other option now than to finally give in. To lose the ground you’d so staunchly defended up until now. “Fucker,” you hissed. “God, I hate you so much. I want you to fuck me, Sam. What else do you want?” you asked, temper tantrum rising up in this rare occasion that you had to do something you didn’t want to. “I want your cock, okay? I wanna feel you for days, and I want you to be so fucking deep inside me that you think about how well you fucked the owners’ daughter everytime you even so much as look in the direction of another woman for the next week.”

Sam seemed to be savoring the satisfaction of your words, but he still looked at you with a cheeky grin. “And?”

“Fuck you,” you said venomously. “Please.”

“Good answer,” he grinned, letting go of your wrists and gathering your knees in the crook of his elbows. 

After that, he let go of his restraint and stopped playing a role, sucking in breath and letting it out on a grunt as he slid home, low mutterings seeping from his lips as he knee-walked forward and bent you back until the backs of your thighs were skin-to-skin with the front of his. Only then did he pull his hips back and jackhammer them back in, giving you time to adjust before he reached in further with his fingers and pressed them into your inner thighs. 

With his proximity, there was a small slap when his hips met yours, but the soundtrack of the evening otherwise was made up of slick, wet noises and the posts of his bed knocking against the wall every so often.

And the steady back and forth stream of curses and unintelligible noises from you both. Not to forget those.

He kept pummeling into you, watching you bare your teeth, feral with the ecstasy of resolution after such a long build-up. You were glad you hated him. Glad he hated you. It all made this so much better, and Sam seemed hell-bent on keeping the curses to his name (and now his dick) spewing from your mouth.

“That’s it, princess, tell me how much you hate me. How much you hate the fact that I’m the best lay at this godforsaken club.”

“No,” you gasped. “You still aren’t shit, pool boy.”

He let go of one of your legs, roughly turning you on your side and straddling one leg, slotting himself between like a tetris puzzle piece. “God, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he huffed. “Bitch.”

“Bastard.”

He groaned, your cunt tightening around him and making him stutter. “You’re lucky you're the daughter of people who actually did something with their money,” he seethed, not actually angry but his hips colliding with yours as if he was. “I’d love to see you somewhere where no one gave a fuck about who you were. See how you do in the real world.”

Again, Sam flipped you over, his thrust of re-entry pushing your face into the pillows. “Complaining as a grown-ass man who cleans a pool for a living and gets paid generously for it is– oh fuck, oh god–” you gasped, orgasm building as Sam’s fingers sloppily rubbed fast, tight circles around your clit, “-bad taste,” you finished.

Sam hitched your hips up more, trying to get even closer to you than what was physically possible, already buried balls-deep inside you. “For once in your life, maybe you’re right,” he grunted, pressing his palm into your back and arching it until you moaned, the tip of his cock catching your g-spot. He held you down in that position and gripped a handful of your hair as you’d done to him. “I do love my job.” He punctuated his words with a harsh stroke that bumped somewhere deep inside you that you hadn’t even touched doing your own exploration.

“Sleeping through the clientele wasn’t in your job description. Being a whore just seems to be your favorite hobby.” With each slowing thrust, Sam kept his depth but was losing his speed and his coordination. He had to be close, but he stopped once more to turn you around and push back onto the mattress. “Jesus christ, do you rotate every girl you fuck like a gas station hot dog?” you asked, dropping the act for a second as a smile threatened to break out. Sam’s eyes widened, once again visible since you were on your back after changing positions for the third time within a few minutes.

“...Sorry.”

You shook your head, a bit of mirth still lingering in your tone. “S’fine. Just keep going this time, I was close.”

Sam nodded, restarting with something a little slower, a little less intense than the rest of your coupling had been. It was just as good, though, and you closed your eyes as your high began building again. Since his hands were busy holding himself up as he undulated and kept the roll of his hips going, Sam paused and took your hand, bringing your fingers to his lips for the second time that night. He wet them in his mouth and guided them to where he was still buried in the sweet heat of your body. “Touch yourself for me, princess,” he rasped, voice low and rough.

Lost in his own arousal, his edges dulled, and you watched the unfettered desire take over him as he watched you do as he asked without a fight, for once. 

He really was entirely too good-looking for his own good. All of the features you spent days building up a disdain for, for reasons that didn’t reveal themselves until you stuck in his web lost the veil of contempt that sullied them, were on display and for the first time, you admired Sam without feeling the need to punish yourself afterwards for thinking such thoughts. 

The steady push, pull, fill, drag of Sam’s thrusts into you finally pushed you over the edge with the help of your experienced fingers, and you threw your head back in ecstasy, gasping out Sam’s name as small noises crawled their way out of your chest and left it heaving.

Sam followed you off the edge, enticed by the flutter of your walls around him and the sound of his name on your lips. He echoed you with a low, drawn-out groan, pausing when he was as deep inside of you as he could be. “That’s it,” he breathed, lowering himself to his elbow as his other hand smoothed up and down your side, one of the first gentle interactions between the two of you.

You couldn't keep the jab in, this time - not with how much you found yourself liking the new, softer atmosphere. “You’re not falling in love with me, are you, Sam?” you jested softly as he kept his hands roaming your skin. But you kept your voice low, and your leg wrapped around his hip, keeping him lodged in your warmth so you didn't have much ground of defense if he turned your argument against you. “After all that effort acting like you wanted to eat the rich…”

“Shh,” he hushed, pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat. “Like I said, we can go back to acting like we hate each other tomorrow but, for now, we can pretend to like each other. Also,” he said, finally withdrawing and discarding the condom before wrapping his arms around you from the back, “I definitely did eat the rich.”

You let out a half-hum, half-chuckle, and laced your fingers over the backs of his, snuggling closer to him and enjoying the butterfly kisses he was slowly placing across the nape of your neck, nose barely brushing your earlobe. “I suppose you did.”

With both of you basking in the after-effects of your orgasms, it was a while before you got up to pee and clean up the mess between your legs – or, let Sam do it in the shower.

Part of you thought back to how Tara described him doing the same for her, so you didn’t allow yourself to think much of it. But you still spent the night wrapped in his arms, and when you woke up, his soft snores muffled by your skin, you counted yourself lucky that you found it rather difficult to fall in love with people. There were many women at the resort that couldn’t say the same, and you wondered just how long the trail of broken hearts that Sam left in his wake was.

Finally, you were too restless to remain in bed, and you managed to wriggle out of Sam’s grasp to collect your things, throwing your outfit on from the previous night and thanking the universe for being an early riser. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and you could make the walk back to your room in peace without running into anyone who might want to stop and talk.

“It’s not time to wake up,” Sam mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes and yawning from the bed. “You don’t have to sneak out,” he said with a frown when he registered that you were making to leave.

“I know,” you assured him. With a small half-smile, you said, “I do own the place, after all.”

Sam got up when it was clear you weren’t going to come back to his bed and walked you to the door, leaning on the frame in that annoyingly attractive way of his when you stepped into the hall. “So...come by the office and maybe I can give you the ‘pool boy special’ sometime,” he said, and you softly flicked him on his bare chest.

“And watch you offer the same ‘pool boy special’ to every other woman there? Yeah, no thanks,” you refused, under no pretense that Sam would stop being Sam just because he slept with you. “But I do appreciate the reminder as to why I don’t like you.”

Sam hummed, tilting your head up by your chin to languidly press a kiss to your lips. “And why is that, again?”

It was a nice distraction, sure, but the pride you held to be able to say that you could see through the water, no matter how murky it was, kept you focused on the conversation. “Whore,” you scoffed, both in insult and in explanation, and Sam smiled down at you, almost affectionately. 

“You’ll take every opportunity to call me a whore, won’t you?”

You were about to confirm Sam's suspicions when the door across from you opened and a very tired looking man stepped out, looking surprised to see you. Dark, curly hair, a pressed polo, lightweight, quality trousers, and a belt that matched his shoes – the golf caddy. “Oh! Uh…good morning, Miss–”

“She doesn’t need the ego boost of an honorific, Daniel, please.” Sam smirked at you as you narrowed your eyes.

You ignored Sam’s words, instead sauntering over to a wide-eyed Daniel, smoothing a finger over a flip in his collar. “I appreciate the respect, Daniel. Sam needs to learn a little more of it. You’re the head golf caddy, aren’t you?” Daniel stuttered out an affirmation, and you smiled warmly at him, feeling Sam’s eyes on you from behind. “That’s impressive. So young, and my father talks very highly of you. It’s quite difficult to earn his approval, but you’ve managed to do it. Perhaps I’ll stop by for a private lesson one of these days; you’ll have a spot for me in your schedule, won’t you?”

It was a shameless power play, and a gross misuse of your status, but that familiar wave of satisfaction when Daniel didn’t even check before he said you could come anytime and he’d be available sent your brain whirring with pleasure. A different kind than you got from your spars with Sam or the physical kind you experienced the night before, but you liked the feeling, so you had no plans on denying yourself of it.

Turning smugly back to Sam, just so that he could see that you still held the power he wanted to fuck out of you, you shot him the bird. “Well, invigorating conversation, Sam, but I still think you’re a lazy asshole and a shameless, attention-seeking–”

“Whore,” he finished for you. “I know.”

As you walked away, you heard the muted slap of an impacted hand, and Danny hissed, barely audible, “Goddammit– are you kidding me, Sam? The one person I told you that you didn’t want to piss off and–”

“Chill out, Daniel – that was flirting, not fighting.”

~~~

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