#but the officials.....I WILL SEE YOU IN COURT!

[a-new-romantic]

us (azriel x reader)

"Welcome back Az!" Rhysand cheered, clapping his brother on the back as the rest of the inner circle turned to smile at him and welcome him back.

Azriel blinked at all the sudden attention but took it gracefully - like a true Shadowsinger. He had been working for three months in the Day court on official Spymaster business.

"Thank you, Az." his brother said earnestly, his violet eyes piercing the shadowsinger and he smiled tight lipped and nodded. "The mission took longer than I had an anticipated for it to take, especially for someone with your expertise. Was anything holding you back, brother? Or was it just that difficult?" he probed, genuinely curious.

Azriel's eyes flashed in remembrance, for a split second, before returning to the soft gaze he kept for his family.

"I guess it was just that difficult..." he said, trailing off.

"Are you sure?" Feyre asked him, a calculating yet concealed gaze covering her face. He did nothing but nod and the High Lady nodded in return, satisfied.

For months thereafter, Azriel found that his dreams were taken over with memories of his time spent in the day court.

His time spent with you.

Flashes of concealed and hushed laughter in aisles of the library. Flashes of pure, unbridled joy at the sight of whipped cream on your nose. Flashes of the feeling of sand and the roar of the ocean. Flashes of stolen kisses, poetry sonnets, and hidden secrets. Flashes of everything good in the world surrounded you. He would have stayed with you forever, if he could have.

Then came the bad. Memories of having to leave you rose in his nightmares. The feeling of anger, despite neither of you doing anything wrong. The swirl of his shadows singing reassurance in his ears as he slept next to you that night. The taste of your salty tears streaming down your cheeks as you kissed him for the final time. The roar of air against his wings as he forced himself to fly back home.

The act of sleeping became a battle.

___

A year passes by, his dreams and nightmares of you ebbing away giving rise to blank sleeps. He's doing his best to move forward, and prays that you are doing the same.

"I WIN!" Cassian's voice cuts through his thoughts, pulling him to reality as he realizes he's been pinned to the ground by his brother.

"You wish," he muttered as he kneed his brother in the gut, using his surprise to his advantage as he pins Cassian down, winning.

"Oh whatever," Cassian grumbles as he pushes Az off, wiping dirt off his leathers as he grins at his brother.

"Again?" Azriel rolled his eyes, but got into a fighting stance regardless.

Suddenly, Rhysand's voice echoed through their heads, "Cassian, Azriel, come to the River House. We have a special guest."

Cassian furrowed his eyebrows.

"Any idea?" he asked Azriel. Azriel looked to his shadows for answers, but all they did was vibrate in excitement and swirled around him - seemingly to excited to speak.

"No clue," he said earnestly. Cassian's brows furrowed further, before clearing.

"I guess we'll find out, race you there?" he said, already taking flight. Azriel grinned and nodded, shooting up into the air with one powerful flap.

____

He landed on the balcony of the River House moments before Cassian, who slapped him upside the head when he landed.

"How did you beat me?" he muttered, before straightening his gaze towards Rhysand and Feyre who were inside, greeting their new guest. He peeks his head through the door - trying to sneakily see who this special guest was - , and his cover was immediately blown by the ever-observant Feyre.

"Oh yes, (Y/N). Meet Cassian, the general of the night court."

Azriel freezes.

(Y/N)?

His (Y/N)?

He heaves forward, the brunt of his memories piercing through him. Everything he's suppressed comes rushing back to him, and he's overtaken with emotion.

Without a second thought, he bursts through the doors - extremely unlike the sly and secret nature he kept.

"Azriel, are you okay?" someone asked him, worriedly. He didn't answer them, all his attention was on you.

You falter in your words, eyes darting towards him for a split second before returning to Cassian. Before he could mourn the loss of your gaze, you turn towards him again - pain and longing in your eyes.

"Azriel," you breathed out, eyes flashing with emotion as you took him in. He'd gotten prettier since you'd last seen him, even more breathtaking than before.

"Do you two know each other?" Rhysand asks, glancing between the two of you.

"Yes," you both said at the same time, unable to break gazes with one another.

"Well," Feyre started, and you snapped your head back to her - sense overtaking you as you remember where you were and what you were doing. "I'm sure Az can answer any questions you have,". He can't find it in himself to do anything but smile and nod.

"Well, I do have one question." you said, giving him a small smile. You stepped forward towards him, your scent of the ocean air taking over his senses.

"Do you miss us?"

[buckets-and-trees]

Happy Friday, Aspen!

Legal Temptations

Characters/Pairings: Andy Barber x curvy Millennial female!Reader Word Count: 6.4k Summary: After battling with Andy Barber in the courtroom, your relationship takes a turn when you receive an unexpected message from your rival requesting a secretive meeting to discuss a high-profile murder case. Intrigued but cautious, you can't turn down the invitation from Newton's former Assistant District Attorney and your former law school rival.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut: vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), ; mild exhibitionism (sex in front of a window), first time anal play/rimming; dirty talk; a lot of plot BEFORE we get to the smut

Notes: Sorry it's not Friday, Jen, and sorry this has also sat in my inbox for months! I kept on wanting to do something new with Andy and wanting to post it on a Friday, but things kept on getting away from me. Now I'm just posting and to hell with previous intentions, hahaha. But kicking off my series of Valentine Storygrams seemed like a good time to trot him out!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“I find the defendant guilty as charged.”

You surreptitiously suck in a breath and school your face to remain completely and utterly professional.

But your chest bursts into a triumphant fire at the judge’s verdict.

You’ve won, yet again, against Andy Barber. And rightly so. Your client was the victim, plain and simple. But it’s the third time in three months.

And it feels damn good to know you did.

As the courtroom erupts into a flurry of murmurs and movement, you gather your papers with practiced efficiency, sliding them into your briefcase. You avoid looking at the defense table.

The judge's gavel cracks through the air. "Court is adjourned."

You rise, buttoning your blazer with one smooth motion. Only then do you allow yourself a brief glance at your opponent. Andy's jaw is clenched, his shoulders tense as he leans in to whisper something to his client. A twinge of sympathy flickers through you - you know all too well the sting of defeat. But you still can't help savoring this moment, this victory. It's not just about winning – it's about justice served, about protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty.

As you stride towards the exit, your heels clicking authoritatively on the polished floor, a hand catches your elbow. You turn to find Sarah, your paralegal, grinning widely.

"Drinks to celebrate?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with shared victory.

You nod, allowing a small smile to curve your lips. "Absolutely. The usual place in an hour?"

Sarah gives you a nod, and then she’s approached by the brother of your client - whose been trying to hold back his clear crush on your paralegal until the case was over, and you’re happy to see him shoot his shot. He’s a sweet kid, just about her age, and she’s had terrible luck in the romance department. This could be a path out of the woods for her of those post-grad men who still desperately tried to cling to their frat boy glory.

You make your way out of the courtroom, nodding politely to colleagues and spectators. In the hallway, a reporter approaches, microphone extended.

"Counselor, another impressive win. Any comments on the verdict?"

You pause, choosing your words carefully. "We’re obviously pleased with the verdict. That's all I'll say for now. Any further comments will come through official channels." You offer a polite but firm smile, sidestepping the reporter with practiced ease.

As you’re about to get into your car, you look back at the courthouse and spot Andy Barber exiting the building, his face masking frustration and defeat. For a moment, your eyes lock. There's a flash of something—respect, perhaps, or resignation—before he turns away, striding purposefully towards the parking lot.

You shake off the encounter and settle into your car. Between the drive home to change into something more casual and then the drive to your usual celebratory spot, you’re able to decompress, shed the courtroom persona, and remember who you are outside of the high-stakes world of criminal law.

By the time you push open the door of O'Malley's, your favorite low-key bar, you're feeling more like yourself. Sarah is already there. She’s landed you a good corner booth, and two of the other paralegals from your office and your assistant are there, too.

As you slide into the booth, Sarah pushes a glass of your favorite scotch towards you. "To justice," she says, raising her own glass in a toast.

"To justice," you echo, clinking glasses with the group. The warm burn of the liquor is a welcome sensation after the tension of the day in court.

Your assistant, Mark, leans in eagerly. "So, boss, give us the details. How did Barber's face look when the verdict came down?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Now, now. We're professionals here. We don't gloat."

"Speak for yourself," Sarah quips, earning a round of laughter from the table.

As the conversation flows, the weight of the case finally lifting from your shoulders. Sarah’s receiving and responding to a few texts, apparently having agreed to give her number to the client’s brother. The victory feels sweeter shared with these people who helped you prepare for the case and who understand the long hours and emotional toll of the job.

Sarah leans in, her voice lowered conspiratorially. "So, what's next? Rumor has it the DA's office is eyeing you for a big case."

You take a sip of your drink, considering. "Nothing's confirmed yet, but there have been some interesting conversations. We'll see."

Just then, it’s your phone that buzzes. Glancing down, you see a text from an unknown number:

Congratulations on the win. We need to talk. Meet me at hotel bar at Clark’s, 10 PM tonight. Come alone. -AB

Your brow furrows. AB. Andy Barber. What could he possibly want? And why the secrecy?

You don’t respond right away. It’s only just past eight. You have time to consider the situation.

But ultimately, your curiosity wins out, and around nine, you make your excuses and leave your staff at O’Malley’s.

On your way to Clark’s, your wheels turn over the enigma that is Andy Barber.

He showed up in town almost six months ago, relocated from Massachusetts where he’d been the assistant district attorney before his son had been accused of murder. You had followed the tragic unfolding of events - the family ostracized from their community, brief reprieve when Jacob had been cleared, and then the tragic accident where his son and his wife ended up in critical condition. Jacob passed away, never coming out of his coma, and though Laurie recovered, a year later, their marriage never did, and they divorced in a fairly civil proceeding.

You had really felt for him initially.

But once you started coming up against him in the court room, you were reminded why you had hated him all through law school. He was always good at what he did, and he was smug about it. The two of you had competed for everything. Top spot of each class, the most competitive internships, nearly coming out even, but he edged you out for valedictorian of your graduating class, leaving you as salutatorian.

He’d gone public defender, and you’d moved back to your home state and gone into private practice, and you really hadn’t thought of him again until he made the news - because the son of an ADA being hit with murder charges made the national news circuit.

But back at law school, he’d gotten under your skin, and as much as you tried to ignore it now, he was doing it again.

You arrive at Clark's Hotel ten minutes before the agreed time, your mind still churning with questions. The hotel bar is dimly lit, all dark wood and leather, exuding an air of discreet luxury. You scan the room, but there's no sign of Andy yet.

Settling at the bar, you order a club soda. You need to keep your wits about you for whatever this meeting might bring. The bartender slides your drink across the polished surface just as you feel a presence at your elbow.

"Thanks for coming," Andy greets you in a low voice.

You turn to face him, taking in his appearance. He looks tired, the lines around his eyes deeper than you remember from the courtroom. His suit is slightly rumpled, as if he's been wearing it all day.

"What's this about, Andy?" you ask, cutting straight to the chase.

He glances around the bar, then back to you. "Not here. I've got a room upstairs. We can talk there."

Your instincts flare with caution, but curiosity wins out. You nod, following him to the elevator.

The ride up is silent, tension thick in the air. As the elevator doors slide open, you follow Andy down the plush carpeted hallway. He stops at room 712, swiping the keycard and holding the door open for you.

You hesitate for a moment before stepping inside. The room is spacious but dimly lit, with a view of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. Andy moves to the mini bar, pouring himself a generous measure of whiskey. He offers you one, but you decline with a shake of your head.

"Alright, we're here. What's going on?" you ask, your patience wearing thin.

He takes a long sip of his drink before turning to face you, his expression grave. "I need your help," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raise an eyebrow, skepticism clear in your voice. "My help? With what?"

Andy runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration you remember from your law school days. "It's about the Donovan case."

Your mind races. Robert Donovan, a prominent businessman, found brutally murdered in his penthouse apartment. The Donovan case is the high-profile murder trial of the year - possibly of the decade - and set to begin in a few weeks.

Your eyebrows shoot up. "The Donovan case? Andy, that's not even your case. It's being handled by the DA's office."

He nods, pacing the room. "I know, I know. But I've been looking into it, and something's not right. The evidence doesn't add up."

You cross your arms, leaning against the wall. "What do you mean?"

Andy takes a deep breath, then launches into a detailed explanation. He talks about inconsistencies in witness statements, forensic evidence that doesn't quite fit the prosecution's timeline, and a potential alibi for the defendant that wasn't fully investigated. As he speaks, you find yourself drawn in, your legal mind picking apart the details.

"The blood spatter analysis," he says, pulling out a file from his briefcase, "it doesn't match the prosecution's theory of how the murder happened. And look at this," he points to a photo, "the angle of the wound suggests the attacker was left-handed, but Donovan is right-handed."

You lean in, examining the evidence. It's compelling. "Andy, this is... fascinating. But why are you showing me this? Why not take it to the DA? Or the press?”

“Someone with too much money, too much power, and too much influence is somehow pulling strings to pin this the way they want. You can help me identify the right players. But, what’s more, you have the necessary clout and influence in this town to go to the DA and be taken seriously, and I don’t have that yet.”

You take in a deep breath and study his face.

Impatient, he implores you by name - first name, not last name like he always did in law school and like he had these past months.

“It’s eating you up to admit that, isn’t it?” you finally say.

He puts his hands on his hips and lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah, it does. Satisfied?”

“Mildly,” you admit, a hint of a smirk on your face. “But Andy, why should I trust you? Word around town is you’re hit or miss on your cases, and I’ve just beat you on all three when we’ve come toe to toe.”

He arches a brow. “You think I’ve lost my edge?”

“You were brilliant Newton - on track to be the DA, you won everything.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He licks his lips. “Do you think it’s possible that the cases I’m losing now are for the defendants that should be put behind bars, the ones I have no guilt taking money from, and that I’m just that good that they never question that I’m making sure they get what they deserve?”

You arch an eyebrow. He doesn’t lose everything, and he certainly didn’t make any rookie mistakes on the cases he is losing.

“I’m willing to entertain that premise.”

“Alright, that’s all I need. Now what about Donovan?”

You mull over everything he’s shared so far. Your gut says he’s not wrong.

He says your name again, prompting you back into the moment.

You lock eyes with Andy, searching for any hint of deception. But all you see is earnestness and a hint of desperation.

"Okay," you say slowly, "I'll listen. But I need to know everything. No holding back, no surprises later. If we're going to do this, we do it right."

Relief washes over Andy's face. He nods vigorously. "Of course. Everything I have, it's all yours."

You move to the small desk in the corner of the room, pulling out a chair. "Alright then, let's get to work. Start from the beginning."

For the next few hours, you and Andy pour over the evidence, dissecting every detail of the Donovan case. As the night wears on, your skepticism fades, replaced by a growing certainty that something is indeed very wrong with this case.

Around two am, you lean back in your chair, rubbing your eyes. "This is big, Andy. Really big. If what we suspect is true, it could implicate some very powerful people."

Andy nods grimly. "I know. That's why I needed your help. I won’t be able to do this alone."

You sigh and press your fingers to your temples, massaging away what stress you can, though it seems futile. “This has to stay between us for now. If there's even a whisper of this getting out before we're ready..."

"I know," he interrupts. "Believe me, I understand the stakes."

As he gathers the files, you move to the window, gazing out at the city below. The lights twinkle like stars, hiding the secrets and machinations of the powerful. You can't help but wonder what you're getting yourself into.

Andy appears at your side, and you turn slightly to look at him. “Why are we in a hotel room discussing this? Secrecy? If you’re that worried, it won’t be hard to track you here.”

“I…” he laughs. “No, actually. It’s worse than that.”

“Oh, Andy,” your voice is wary, “don’t tell me you live here.”

“I haven’t gotten around to finding a place.”

“Six months, Andy!”

He smirks and cocks his head. “You’ve been keeping track of how long I’ve been in town?”

You look away, feeling your cheeks flood with heat.

He takes a step closer, not touching, but near enough that you can feel the warmth of his body.

“I didn’t know this was where you landed,” he says, “but when I got here and heard you were one of the top lawyers in this town, I felt a mix of curiosity and pride and... something else." His voice drops lower, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. "I thought about reaching out, but..."

You turn to face him fully, your breath catching slightly at his proximity. "But what?"

Andy's eyes search yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "But I was ashamed. Of how things ended between us in law school. Of how my life had fallen apart. I didn't want you to see me like that, but I didn’t want to run away and start my new chapter making a cowardly choice by picking some place else."

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken history. You remember the fierce competition, the heated debates, the undercurrent of tension that had always existed between you two. And now, years later, here you are, standing toe to toe once again.

"Andy," you start, unsure of what to say. But before you can continue, he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. "That's not why I asked you here. We should focus on the case."

You nod, trying to ignore the sudden pang of disappointment. "Right, the case. We need a plan."

As Andy moves back to the desk, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions - frustration at his deflection, curiosity about what might have been, and an overwhelming sense that you're on the precipice of something monumental with this case.

Leaving the window, you join him at the desk. "We need to be methodical about this. We can't afford to make any mistakes."

Andy nods, his professional demeanor firmly back in place. "Agreed. I think our first step should be to re-interview some of the key witnesses. There are inconsistencies in their statements that we need to explore further."

You tap your finger on the desk, thinking. "That's risky. If word gets back to whoever's pulling the strings, they might move to cover their tracks."

"True," Andy concedes. "But if we're careful, we might be able to gather crucial information without raising suspicions."

You consider this for a moment. "Alright, but we do it discreetly. No official channels. We'll need to come up with a cover story for why we're asking questions."

As you and Andy begin to outline your strategy, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement. You feel it in every meaty case, that feeling never going away though you’ve been practicing for years.

"We obviously need to be careful about who we to to with this information," Andy says.

"I have a few trusted contacts in the police department who might be able to help us discreetly.”

“I’ve already established a few contacts on the street. And what about your paralegal, Sarah? Could she be brought in on this?"

You consider for a moment. "Sarah's reliable, and she has a knack for research. She could be invaluable. But let's wait before bringing anyone else in. For now, it's just us."

"Just us," Andy echoes, his eyes meeting yours. There's a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken words.

You clear your throat.

"Right," you say, breaking the tension. "Let's focus on our next steps. We need to start gathering concrete evidence to support our theory."

Andy nods, visibly refocusing. "I've been thinking about that. There's a security guard at Donovan's building who was working the night of the murder. His statement seemed off. Like he was holding something back."

"Good catch," you reply, impressed despite yourself. "We should try to talk to him first. Maybe we can convince him to come clean."

"Agreed. I'll set up a meeting, make it look casual. We don't want to spook him."

As you continue planning, the sky outside begins to lighten. You glance at your watch, surprised to find it's nearly five am.

"We should probably call it a night," you say, stifling a yawn. "Or morning, I guess."

Andy looks up from the notes he's been scribbling, seeming equally surprised by the time. "You're right. We've made good progress, and we’ll need to be sharp for this."

You start gathering your things, your mind already racing with the day ahead. As you reach for your coat, Andy's hand brushes against yours. The touch sends an electric current through your body, and you freeze, suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity. You turn to face him, and the intensity in his eyes takes your breath away.

"I know this isn’t the right time," Andy starts, his voice low and husky, "but I can't ignore this anymore."

Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. For a moment, you're too stunned to react. But then, as if a dam has broken, you're kissing him back with equal fervor, years of unresolved tension pouring out.

Your hands find their way into his hair as he cups your face in his hands. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more desperate.

Andy breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath. "We shouldn't," he whispers, but his actions betray his words as his hands roam your body.

"No, we shouldn't," you agree, even as you start unbutton his white shirt. You know you should leave, should maintain professional boundaries. But the pull is magnetic, undeniable.

His hands reach for your hips but slide up your waist, fingers slipping beneath your sweater, and your feel your skin light up at every point of contact.

"We were too busy hating each other back at law school, but I've thought about this for years," he murmurs. "About you."

“You hated me?” you ask.

“No,” he admits.

“Me either,” you say truthfully.

Before you can say anything more, his lips are on yours. This second kiss is tentative at first, a question. But when you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck, it quickly becomes heated, desperate. Years of competition, of unspoken attraction, of what-ifs, all pour into this moment.

Your back hits the cool glass of the window, and you gasp at the contrast with Andy's warm body pressing against you. His hands are everywhere, pushing your sweater up and off your shoulders, reaching for the button of your jeans.

Your fingers fumble with more of the buttons of Andy's shirt as he trails hot kisses down your neck. The cool glass against your back contrasts sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours. Your head spins, overwhelmed by sensation and the surreal nature of the moment.

"Wait," you gasp, placing a hand on his chest. Andy freezes immediately, concern flashing in his eyes. "Are you sure about this?" you ask, searching his face. "There's no going back."

Andy cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. "I'm sure," he says, his voice low and gravelly. "But I’ll stop if you want to me to stop—"

You silence him with a kiss, pouring all your pent-up desire into it. That's all the confirmation Andy needs.

Clothes are shed hastily, hands roaming newly exposed skin.

Andy spins you around, your bare skin pressing against the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. The city sprawls out before you, bathed in the soft light of dawn. The sky is a canvas of pastel pinks and oranges, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon.

His warm body molds against your back as his lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You shiver, partly from the chill of the glass, partly from the heat of his touch. Your breath fogs the window as Andy's hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

The city below is beginning to stir, early risers starting their day, unaware of the passionate scene unfolding high above them. There's a thrill in being so exposed, yet so hidden.

Andy's fingers thread through yours, pressing your palm against the glass, his other hand guiding the head of his thick cock to your entrance as he enters you slowly. You gasp at the sensation, your eyes fluttering closed. He’s big, so big.

Andy's hand grips your hip, holding you steady as he starts to move. The slow, steady rhythm is almost agonizing, but you can feel every inch of him stretching and filling you. You moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as the pleasure builds.

His pace picks up gradually as he leans down to kiss your neck again, his teeth grazing over your skin. Your fingers curl against the glass, your body moving in sync with his.

It's like a symphony of sensations – the warmth of Andy's body against yours, the coolness of the glass on your skin, the sounds of pleasure mingled with the noises from outside. It’s been years since you were intimate with anyone, and you have forgotten how good it feels to have a man inside you instead of a toy.

You lose yourself in it all, chasing after that elusive release that seems just out of reach. But then Andy's hand slides between your body and the glass, his fingers finding their way to your sensitive bundle of nerves. He presses down just right and everything around you fades away as you come undone in his arms.

Andy follows soon after with a low groan, pulling out just before he spills his seed over your lower back and ass, his body shuddering against yours with pleasure. You collapse against the glass, and he presses against you, both breathing heavily and trying to catch your breaths.

As reality starts to creep back in, you realize how exposed you are – a naked couple pressed against a floor-to-ceiling window for anyone below to see. Panic sets in for a brief moment before being chased away by a warm contentment at being wrapped up in Andy's embrace.

"Good thing we’re seven floors up," he whispers into your ear, seeming to read your mind. He presses a kiss to your shoulder before pulling back slightly and reaching for tissues from a nearby table to clean his spend from your back.

You laugh softly as you start to look around for your clothes. "Definitely not something I ever thought I'd do. And never thought it would be with you."

"I'm glad we did though," Andy says with a smile that you feel against your neck as he presses in behind you, not letting you move away just yet.

The rising sun paints your bodies in a golden glow, highlighting the sheen of sweat on your skin. Andy's free hand traces the curve of your breast, and you sigh happily.

Gently, he turns you back to face him, and then in one fluid motion, Andy lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carries you to the bed, laying you down gently on the soft mattress.

Andy kneels above you for a moment, pausing, his eyes roaming your body with undisguised desire. He’s already taken you once, so it’s no surprise, but his gaze is overwhelmingly intense, almost reverent, as if he's committing every curve and freckle to memory.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

There's no rush, no desperate urgency. Andy takes his time, exploring your body with gentle hands and soft lips. He traces the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist. Each touch sends shivers through you, generating a slow, simmering heat.

You run your fingers through his hair, down his back, feeling the play of muscles under his skin. There's an intimacy to this moment that surprises you - it's not just about physical pleasure, but a connection that feels deeper, more meaningful. Unexplored potential from years before spilling into reality now.

Andy's lips trail lower, across your stomach, down to the inside of your thighs. Your breath hitches as he settles between your legs, his intent clear. The first swipe of his tongue has you arching off the bed, a gasp escaping your lips.

As Andy’s tongue expertly circles your sensitive clit, you can’t help but lose yourself in the sensation. His skillful fingers tease and caress your folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your moans grow louder as he delves deeper, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to drive you wild. You lose all sense of time, only focused on the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

With each flick of his tongue, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your body tenses as you reach your peak, crying out in ecstasy as a powerful orgasm rocks through you.

Andy continues to pleasure you until your body finally relaxes, then he crawls back up to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

"Wow," is all you can manage to say, still catching your breath.

"Mmm," Andy hums against your lips. "You taste amazing."

His tongue dances with yours, exploring every corner of your mouth. The intensity builds as he presses his body against yours, one hand tangling in your hair while the other caresses your side.

The kiss seems to go on forever, stealing your breath away. Just when you think you might need to come up for air, Andy breaks away, only to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. His lips find that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you shiver with pleasure.

"Turn over," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You comply, rolling onto your stomach. Andy's weight shifts on the bed as he positions himself over you. His lips return to your skin, starting at the nape of your neck. He places soft, feather-light kisses down your spine, taking his time to savor every inch.

His hands glide along your sides as he moves lower, kneading the muscles of your back. You feel the tension melting away under his touch. Andy's lips follow the curve of your spine, his stubble lightly scratching your skin and sending tingles through your body.

As he reaches the small of your back, he pauses. You feel his breath, warm and heavy, against your skin. Then his tongue darts out, tracing a sensual line back up your spine. You arch into the touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Andy's hands knead the muscles of your shoulders, working out knots you didn't even realize were there. His touch is firm but gentle, alternating between deep pressure and feather-light caresses. You feel yourself melting into the mattress, tension draining from your body.

As his hands work their magic, Andy's lips continue their exploration. He places open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder blades, occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. Each touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

His hands are firm yet gentle, eliciting soft sighs of pleasure from you. As they move lower, massaging down your back, you feel yourself melting into the mattress.

His lips follow the path of his hands, peppering kisses across your shoulder blades and down your spine. The combination of his strong hands and soft lips has you practically purring with contentment.

Andy doesn’t pause when reaches the curve of your lower back this time. His hands grip your hips, lifting them slightly. You understand his intent and rise up onto your knees, keeping your chest pressed to the bed.

Andy's hands caress your ass, kneading the flesh appreciatively. You feel exposed in this position, but the reverence in his touch chases away any self-consciousness. His thumb traces your folds, finding you still slick with arousal.

"God, you’re already so wet," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Getting wetter and wetter for me.”

Andy's hands caress your thighs as he positions himself behind you. "I want to taste you again," he says, his voice low and husky. "You think you can take more?"

You nod eagerly, anticipation building as you feel his warm breath on your sensitive flesh.

"I dreamt of having you like this in the library our last semester," he confesses and you groan. "Spread your legs a little wider for me."

You comply eagerly, shifting your knees further apart on the soft sheets. Andy's thumbs gently part your folds, exposing your most intimate areas to his hungry gaze.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he coos, leaning in so you can feel his hot breath on your sex for a moment, and you fist the sheets.

Andy starts with gentle kisses along your inner thighs, working his way higher. When his tongue makes contact with your core, you gasp at the sensation.

"You taste so good," Andy murmurs against you. "I could do this for hours."

His tongue explores every fold and crevice, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your most sensitive spots. You moan as he circles your clit, pleasure building with each pass.

"That's it, let me hear you," Andy encourages. "I love the sounds you make."

He slips a finger inside you, curling it to hit just the right spot as his tongue continues its ministrations. The dual stimulation has you writhing, pushing back against his face.

"So responsive," Andy says appreciatively. "So wet and ready for me. You're close, aren't you?"

You can only whimper in response as he increases the pressure. Andy's skilled tongue works over your sensitive flesh, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit. His hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as you writhe with pleasure.

"More," you gasp, fisting the sheets. "Please, Andy, don't stop."

He obliges, redoubling his efforts. His tongue delves deeper, exploring every fold and crevice of your sex. You feel the familiar tension building, a tingling heat spreading through your core.

"That's it," Andy encourages, briefly pausing his ministrations. "I can feel you getting close. Your pussy's clenching, begging for release."

He slides a second finger inside you, curling them both to hit that perfect spot. Combined with the relentless attention of his tongue on your clit, you reach for the peak of a third release, but then he slows.

You whine and shift against him. He chuckles. “Oh, I want to torture you more while I enjoy your eager body.”

“Andy!”

“You love it,” he says, “and I have a feeling you can take so much more.”

Andy's hands caress your thighs as he shifts his position slightly. "I want to explore every inch of you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your sensitive skin.

Andy's hands gently part your cheeks, exposing you fully. You feel a moment of vulnerability, but it quickly gives way to arousal as his tongue traces a path higher. When it reaches your puckered entrance, you gasp at the new sensation.

"Is this okay?" Andy murmurs against your sensitive skin.

You nod, words failing you as he begins to explore this uncharted territory. His tongue circles your opening, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention. The feeling is unlike anything you've experienced before - strange at first, but quickly becoming intensely pleasurable.

Andy takes his time, his movements slow and deliberate. His hands knead your ass cheeks as his tongue works its magic, occasionally dipping lower to tease your dripping core before returning to its primary focus.

As you relax into the sensation, Andy becomes bolder. The tip of his tongue presses against your tight ring of muscle, not quite entering but applying delicious pressure. You moan, pushing back against him, silently begging for more.

"You like that, don't you?" Andy says, his voice husky with desire. "Your body's so responsive, so eager for my touch."

He resumes his ministrations.

"Relax," Andy soothes, his hands massaging your lower back. "Just feel."

His tongue circles your entrance, tracing lazy patterns that send tingles of pleasure through your body as he continues.

He alternates between broad strokes and more focused attention, occasionally dipping his tongue inside. The sensation is intense, making you moan and push back against his face.

"That's it," Andy encourages. "You're doing so well. Does it feel good?"

“Yes,” you whimper as he increases the pressure.

Your body trembles with pleasure as Andy continues his intimate exploration. His skilled tongue works you into a frenzy, alternating between your sensitive openings. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides two fingers into your dripping core while his tongue focuses on your puckered entrance.

The dual stimulation is overwhelming. You cry out, fisting the sheets as waves of pleasure crash over you. Andy doesn't let up, working you through your orgasm and beyond it.

When the aftershocks finally subside, Andy places a gentle kiss on your lower back before moving up to lie beside you. He gathers you into his arms, stroking your hair as you catch your breath.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You snuggle closer, basking in the afterglow. For a moment, you forget about the case, about the complications. You're just two people, connected in the most intimate way.

But reality starts to creep back in as your breathing returns to normal. You lift your head to look at Andy, finding his eyes already on you.

"We should talk about this," you say softly.

"Us? Two lawyers? Talk about something?”

You laugh softly at Andy's quip, but the seriousness in his eyes belies his light tone. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and brushes his thumb over your cheek.

"I know," he says, his voice low. "This complicates things."

You nod, acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against yours. "The case..."

"Is still our priority," Andy finishes for you. "We can't let this distract us from what's at stake."

You sit up slowly, the sheet pooling around your waist. Andy's eyes roam your body appreciatively before meeting your gaze again.

"But I don't regret it," he says firmly. "Do you?"

You consider for a moment, then shake your head. "No, I don't. But we need to be careful."

"Yes," Andy agrees. He sits up too, running a hand through his tousled hair. He looks at you another moment, and then his hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "I think we need to keep this separate from our work on the case. When we're working, we're colleagues. Nothing more."

You nod, leaning into his touch. "And when we're not working?"

A slow smile spreads across Andy's face. "When we're not working, we can explore... this." He gestures between you two.

A smile tugs at your lips. "I like the sound of that."

Andy leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. It’s slow, and there’s a sweetness in the depth of it that scares you a little, not expecting that.

But you kiss him back, savoring the moment before reluctantly pulling away. "We should probably get some sleep," you say, glancing at the clock. "It's almost 7 AM."

Andy nods, but his hand trails down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Stay," he says, his voice low and husky. "We can grab a few hours of sleep here, then get started on the case."

You hesitate, knowing you should probably leave, maintain some distance. But the thought of curling up in Andy's arms is too appealing when he’s so willing.

Andy's warm body envelops you as he pulls you down to lie beside him. His arm securely wraps around your waist, offering comfort and warmth. You nestle closer, finding solace in the rise and fall of his chest beneath your head. The rhythmic beat of his heart lulls you into a peaceful state in the early morning hours, your eyelids finally surrendering to the heaviness of sleep. As the world fades away, you know what’s coming next will be one of the most difficult challenges of your life professionally and personally, but at least in this moment you will take solace in the tenuous safety of this connection.

I started this story months ago, was pretty disenchanted with at the time (thanks @biteofcherry for talking me through that), but now that it's had time to age, I went back in, did some rewriting, and I'm happy with where it has finally landed.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[idontplaytrack]

AGH

I'm obsessed with regressed Janis so...

Regina, Janis, and the gang go out. And Janis slips and goes non-verbal so no one knows/can really tell.

Idk

:D I love you and your work so very much, you have so much skill. Truly my favorite writer ever!!!

Fade into you

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George

Warnings: Regina snaps at Janis, fluff, age regression

‘Fade into you

Strange you never knew’

Hearing the crowds of rowdy students around them who were either joking or discussing their weekend plans, Janis couldn’t wait to get out of school grounds. The past week has been filled with quizzes and at home? Janis’ father has been arguing with her mom about every little thing— absolutely just picking a fight when there was no need for that. Janis detested having to go home to that…chaos. So often times, she spent her afternoons at the park or the public library, only arriving home just in time for bed. The girl truly did everything in her power to avoid interacting with her parents. Her mom was okay, well— Janis was really close to her mom. Her father was the problem: almost always having a drink in hand, treating women like they were supposed to wait on him hand and foot, like women were only supposed to be housewives and babymakers. Janis loathed him, Janis couldn’t have her own voice around him…they kind of just co-existed, with one person having no acknowledgement for the other. How’d this start? The bunsen burner incident that led to Janis being kicked out of school for the remainder of that year. Kawaika immediately saw her as malevolent. Like some evil incarnate, and actually cried and asked what happened to ‘the good little girl he raised’. From that day on, Janis decided she was done playing nice. She only tolerated him. Her mom Alohi, fought to get a separation but he never wanted to sign the papers, and claimed he didn’t want to break up a perfectly fine family. This family’s been far from fine as long as Janis could remember, but the more she cared, the sadder she became, the angrier she was. So, eventually, Janis became…numb. Nothing scared her anymore. Losing her best friend was rock bottom for the Hawaiian artist.

She sat in a corner of the library, cozy and with her art supplies spread out before her so she could continue working on her current piece. Lost in her own little world, earphones allowing her to listen to her favourite playlist, Janis was startled when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Hey.” Regina slid into the chair next to hers. Janis smiled softly, “Hi.”

“Doing okay?” Regina asked quietly, “You left school so quick I didn’t even see where you were headed. Luckily we have your location.”

Yeah, that’s right. Regina was now her girlfriend. And has been for the last six months. They talked and worked things out, eventually admitting their feelings for each other and deciding to start dating after years of being apart.

Janis’ shoulders slouched, then she resumed working on her art. She didn’t want to look at Regina anymore, or Damian, who was standing next to the blonde. “You wanna go to the mall? Have some lunch? You barely ate anything at school today.”

Janis didn’t say anything but began to pack up her stuff. Slinging her backpack on her shoulder, she stood up and walked towards the door. Regina took the smaller girl’s hand in her own, and Damian followed close behind them both while they headed for Regina’s Jeep. No, correction— Gretchen’s BMW X5 SUV. Regina opened the door and Janis wordlessly got in. Damian got in last, after Regina did. Gretchen greeted Janis warmly, but the girl didn’t even do anything as much as a nod back. Gretchen didn’t take that to heart and just let her be. While the rest of the group chatted away, Janis tuned out the noise and drifted off to sleep. Last thing she heard was that Cady would meet them there since she was taking Aaron’s car instead.

Janis didn’t even register it, but she was then somehow in the mall’s food court with her friends, clinging onto her girlfriend’s arm while they all decided what to eat. Regina felt the weight and looked down at her side, “You okay, baby?” The blonde squinted, both puzzled and concerned. It was unusual for Janis to be this quiet, at first she thought Janis was just tired. And she was, but there seemed to be more to it…considering this level of clinginess. Janis finally responded, even though it was just a nod. “Let’s go get our food, okay? Then after that we can go look at some toys before going home?”

Janis continued following the taller girl around, their friends didn’t even bat an eye. The couple wound up sharing some Panda Express. Janis definitely did not want to talk so Regina didn’t force it…as much as she would rather have the girl be talking her ear off. This silence felt tense. Regina didn’t like it. But at least none of their friends were being annoying about it. Gretchen scooted closer to try to chat, still, Janis didn’t even join in the conversation. She had no clue what they were even chatting about now. All Janis knew was that she wanted to eat so she wasn’t hungry, look at some toys at the store and go home with Regina to cuddle.

Gretchen frowned, handing the Hawaiian a peppermint candy. Janis took it hesitantly but smiled before she returned to finishing up her food. “You guys want a ride home?” Gretchen asked.

“I’m uh, taking her to the toy store so you guys—”

Gretchen nodded in understanding, “I know. But I’m sure they don’t mind. They can take Aaron’s car home. Me and Karen will just follow along with you and Jay, drop you guys at yours after you’re done at the store.”

Regina hummed, “Okay, thanks, Gretch.”

“No problem.”

————

Their visit to the toy store was brief. Janis didn’t get anything from there, neither did she want anything. Once Gretchen had dropped them off at Regina’s, the blonde said goodbye to Karen and Gretchen before turning around to enter the house. Still, Janis remained absolutely silent.

Janis crawled under the covers immediately, Regina barely noticed the smaller girl moving around so quickly, so eager to be in the comfort of her girlfriend’s room.

“Wanna cuddle?” Regina asked, already knowing the answer would most likely be yes. Janis nodded, Regina opened up her arms and wrapped them around Janis, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” A shaky whine fell from the smaller girl’s lips. Regina rubbed her back soothingly and tilted her chin.

“You’re okay, I promise, bubs.”

Janis chewed on her lips, brown eyes wide and glossed over, just looking into Regina’s bright blue eyes. Regina’s heart clenched as she held the girl’s face in her hand, thumb caressing her cheek. Janis gulped, trying her hardest not to burst into tears. A tear slipped anyway, and Janis hastily wiped it away.

“It’s alright, sweetie.” Regina assured, “You’re safe with me, hm?”

As Janis finally allowed herself to let go of the tears, Regina engulfed her in a hug again. Janis’ face was smushed against Regina’s chest, tears seeping into her grey sweatshirt. All Regina could do was hold her close and let her know she was there. Regina knew the week’s been exceptionally difficult. Both in school and at home, Janis was also due to get her period in about a week. So all things considered, Regina couldn’t say she wasn’t expecting something like this to happen. She was simply glad that the girl now had a safe place to destress, and heal, or cope.

Sometimes, Regina was filled with guilt. Knowing she likely had a part to play in Janis’ regression. But she was also relieved in a way, age regression was a much safer coping mechanism than many others out there. Still, Regina knew Janis self-loathed and isolated until she couldn’t take it. Then…this happens. Janis would reach her limit and revert to a younger state. One where she was young enough to not have gone through any of the bad things, any of the trauma.

Sometimes, like these ones, they had a specific routine. Janis would cry it out then they’ll continue snuggling. After that, Janis would fall asleep to one of her favourite movies in the safety of Regina’s arms. Other days were…easier. Janis was happy and simply wanted to play. There’ve been times were Janis cried so hard she’d get a coughing fit, gagging and all. That made Regina feel the worse because Janis would be inconsolable, but Janis didn’t really know how else to express it other than cry.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Regina asked once Janis’d stopped crying.

“No.” Janis blubbered, voice still shaky and muffled since her face was still buried in the taller girl’s side.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Regina said softly, “What do you want?”

Janis only cried harder and buried her face deeper. Regina shushed her and continued the soothing motions of her hand up and down Janis’ back. Eventually, Janis fell asleep for a bit, and woke up asking for a snack. Regina took her downstairs to the kitchen, allowing Janis to pick what she wanted to eat and drink. Janis happily took the mini pack of chocolate chip cookies and a juice box from Regina then plopped on the living room couch to eat. Regina smiled in relief, quickly joining her and turning the TV on, putting on Tinkerbell.

Now, the silence was comfortable. So, Regina allowed herself to be less on alert but still stayed focused and present. In case Janis needed her help grabbing anything, or if she wanted to shower.

“…’m okay.”

“I know, my love.” Regina smooched her on the head again, “I know.”

“…thank you, Reggie.”

“Always, little one.” Regina chuckled, “I love you.”

Janis giggled, “Love you too.”

“How about some hot cocoa?”

Janis gasped, “Oooh. Yes, please!”

“Alrighty, let’s go make some. Then we can watch some more TV.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[doux-amer]

I've been too busy to watch the last few Liverpool matches and of course the one I tune in for is one of the messiest in recent history.

I don't even remember the last time I saw a team go down to 9 men and we got that and a disallowed goal that should have counted? There was an agenda against us today like one sus choice would have been bad, but three that can't be explained that dictated the game? EXPLAIN.

[fortune-maiden]

I've always liked this line of dialogue from SQX, because it does feel like at the end of the day, no matter how much SQX says he can't stand PM, he does still have a decent grasp of his character.

And on the other side of this, these words are just especially pointed towards Pei Xiu, who does have a good relationship with his boss/ancestor, and also going off his backstory, Pei Ming may well have been the first person in his life to acknowledge him and his talents.

So the whole thing just feels extra sad.

[codename-adler]

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

Apollo yelling "I'm Apollo justice and I'm fine" is literally just him stimming ok? Ok.

[karuma-shii]

Drawing Ace Attorney Prosecutors: Klint van Zieks [6/14]

And, as 2023 is about to end, I might as well post my favourite - Klint! Was leaving the best for last :D let's ignore that this is my icon

Anyways, I have so much to say about him... like how he seemed to really care about his brother, how he desired justice more than anything else... and that one final line

[secondjulia]

"I’m very concerned about my client’s right to a fair trial in this case.  He’s being prejudiced by some statements that are being made by government officials. Like every other defendant, he’s entitled to a presumption of innocence. But unfortunately the way this has been handled so far his rights are being violated. And as you know, Your Honor, there’s a wealth of case law guaranteeing his rights to a fair trial, but none of the safeguards have been put in place yet here — in fact it’s just the opposite of what’s been happening. 

He’s a young man, and he is being treated like a human pingpong ball between two warring jurisdictions here.

These federal and state prosecutors are coordinating with one another at the expense of him. They have conflicting theories in their indictment, and they are literally treating him like he is some sort of political fodder, like some sort of spectacle. 

He was on display for everyone to see in the biggest staged perp walk I’ve ever seen in my career. It was absolutely unnecessary. He’s been cooperative with law enforcement. He’d been in custody for over a week. He waived extradition. He was cooperative at all accounts. There was no reason for the NYPD and everybody to have these big assault rifles — that frankly I had no idea it was in their arsenal — and to have all the press there the media there. It was perfectly choreographed. 

And what was the New York City Mayor doing at this press conference, Your Honor? That just made it utterly political. And as your honor knows under Loro v. Charles, the Court of Appeals for the 2nd Circuit has held it to be clearly established that these staged perp walks to the media unrelated to a legitimate law enforcement objective is unconstitutional. And I submit that there was zero law enforcement objective to do that sort of perp walk. There’s absolutely no need for that whatsoever. 

And frankly, Your Honor, the mayor should know more than anyone about the presumption of innocence that he, too, is afforded dealing with his own issues. And, frankly, I submit that he was just trying to detract from those issues by making a spectacle of Mr. Mangione. 

And there are consequences to this. 

He has a right to a fair trial. And I just want to put on the record statements that the mayor made publicly about my client. Nothing saying “alleged” for example. And he said “I wanted to send a strong message with the police commissioner that we’re leading from the front. I’m not just going to allow him to come into our city. I wanted to look him in the eye and state ‘You carried out this terrorist act in my city, the city of New York that I love.’” And he wanted to show symbolism. 

Your Honor, he’s not a symbol. He’s somebody who is afforded the right to a fair trial. He’s innocent until proven guilty. And the mayor was talking to jurors — future potential jurors that elected him. Those are the people that elected him that he is talking to and calling this man a terrorist.

So, Your Honor, I just want to make a record of this and put everyone on notice that this has to stop, and my client is entitled to a fair trial and the presumption of innocence."

From the CNN stream (weird video)

[ryfkah]

now that my jury duty is over and i can legally talk about my jury duty, a short list of things that i have learned about jury duty:

when the judge wants to sidebar with the lawyers they turn on a static noise machine for the jury. this is very like the experience of being trapped inside a television

sometimes they load the entire court -- judge, lawyers, court reporters, jury, etc. -- onto a bus and take you all on a little field trip to see a crime scene. this is very like the experience of being in elementary school

when you are on a jury field trip you May Not share a seat, you May Not speak, and you May Not look at anything you have not been officially told you can look at. this is very like the experience of being trapped inside a point-and-click adventure except that instead of being limited in your investigation by the constraints of the game mechanics, you are instead limited in your investigation by the court officers herding you around like ducks with their long wooden Official Court Staffs

no matter how much an FBI agent may encourage the court to call him kevin, the court will not call him kevin

[northern-passage]

over the last 24 hours Tom Homan has flip-flopped on what exactly is going to happen this upcoming week in the US, but we know he has threatened a “big raid across the country” and Chicago seems to be the first target with leaked plans for tuesday, January 21st, 2025. if you are here and live in a sanctuary city, brace for ICE raids to begin this week. if you're able, you can request or print your own red cards (available in multiple languages) from the Immigrant Legal Resource Center and offer them to people within your community.

if you see ICE, let people know. shout "ICE" and "LA MIGRA." do not open your door for ICE.

You have constitutional rights:

- DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR if an immigration agent is knocking on the door. / NO ABRA LA PUERTA si un agente de inmigración está tocando la puerta. - DO NOT ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS from an immigration agent if they try to talk to you. You have the right to remain silent. / NO CONTESTE NINGUNA PREGUNTA de un agente de inmigración si el trata de hablar con usted. Usted tiene el derecho de mantenerse callado. - DO NOT SIGN ANYTHING without first speaking to a lawyer. You have the right to speak with a lawyer. If you are outside of your home, ask the agent if you are free to leave and if they say yes, leave calmly. / NO FIRME NADA sin antes hablar con un abogado. Usted tiene el derecho de hablar con un abogado. Si usted está afuera de su casa, pregunte al agente si es libre para irse y si dice que sí, váyase con tranquilidad. - GIVE THIS CARD TO THE AGENT. If you are inside of your home, show the card through the window or slide it under the door. / ENTREGUE ESTA TARJETA AL AGENTE. Si usted está dentro de su casa, muestre la tarjeta por la ventana o pásela debajo de la puerta. I do not wish to speak with you, answer your questions, or sign or hand you any documents based on my 5th Amendment rights under the United States Constitution. I do not give you permission to enter my home based on my 4th Amendment rights under the United States Constitution unless you have a warrant to enter, signed by a judge or magistrate with my name on it that you slide under the door. I do not give you permission to search any of my belongings based on my 4th Amendment rights. I choose to exercise my constitutional rights.

What to do if you are detained - National Immigration Law Center

there's also the ICE Detainer FAQ and the ICE Raids Toolkit from Immigrant Defense Project. and you can also get information on DACA, various resources for preparedness, and flyers at united we dream:

this one is Chicago specific but another organization that is helping people prepare:

[lelianaslefthand]

new year new me: i added a name to my bio

[plutotheplum]

Keep My Hand in Yours

emperor!zayne x concubine!reader - read part 1!

summary: the emperor is intent on convincing you that you are worthy enough to be his empress.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, oral sex, vaginal fingering, p in v, praise kink, throne sex, spanking

wc: 6.9k

a/n: part 2 is finally here! thank you for all the sweet comments, i cherish them all!! <3 umm... i do plan on adding some more parts to this series... so yeah, i hope you enjoy! :)

also on ao3!

“She is not with child.”

Zayne’s stern voice cuts through the chatter of his advisors, his fingers tapping against the arm of his throne irritatedly. The drone of voices silences, his advisors lowering their heads in respect.

You stand off to the side, playing with the sleeves of your robes nervously. Perhaps you’d been a little naive to think the advisors would have been accepting of your blossoming relationship with the Emperor. 

Word had spread throughout the palace, and most likely throughout the entire Empire about the new developments that had taken place overnight. The guards had heard you of course, their eyes averted and cheeks flushed pink when Zayne had held your hand and led you out of his chambers.

An unforeseen turn in events, and you had somehow excelled past the advisors’ expectations, garnering the Emperor’s affection for you. Whilst a small number of the Emperor’s advisors were pleased, the majority were not. Standing before them, you can see the disdain on their faces, the hatred that belies their thin smiles. Jealousy is above all however, for their own daughters were once placed forth as noble matches for the Emperor. 

You jolt out of your thoughts when an Imperial guard takes your arm, moving you to stand before the Emperor. Zayne looks down at you, and you can spy the slight softening of his eyes as he watches you bow to him.

“As I have said,” Zayne repeats, “she is not with child.”

“Forgive me, your majesty,” a voice speaks out from behind you, “how can she not be with child? We- we have heard of what occurred.”

Zayne motions for you to spin around, and you do as he wants. You now face his entire court, advisors gathered in hours of the early morning. It was the grand chancellor who spoke, a tall man, his face gaunt. You remember he had served Zayne’s father before he had passed.

“We are both not ready for children,” Zayne explains, “I had the palace physician brew a tea under my command.”

It was true. You had both spoken about the matter, and you simply could not handle carrying a child so soon. Zayne had agreed, snuck you out through the passages in the middle of the night, and had taken you to the palace physician. The brewing of such teas was not unheard of, but certainly not an accepted occurrence, although perhaps more commonly used among the nobility.

“I see…” the grand chancellor says slowly, his gaze fixating on you.

You want to shrink away, somehow hide behind the safety of the Emperor, but you cannot. Instead, you shift on the spot, averting your gaze to the floor as though you were not the very object of interest of this gathering.

“And you intend to continue this foolish endeavor?” 

Your head snaps up at the harsh words, gaze settling on the new voice that had spoken out. A lower ranking official judging by the coloring of his robes, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you.

“It appears you forget yourself,” the Emperor replies coolly. 

“Or perhaps you forget yourself, your majesty,” the official spits, stepping forward, “you would ruin the image of your rule to marry some… some lowly concubine?”

The murmurs of the other members of court are hard to ignore, hushed whispers breaking out at the official’s blatant show of disrespect towards the Emperor.

“And was it not this very court that decided to gather concubines without my knowledge?”

“For child bearing!” the official hisses, pointing his finger towards you accusingly, “not for marriage!”

You swallow harshly at the viciousness of his words, biting back the insults that threaten to spill out. Retaliation in such a meeting would only support the official’s cause. 

“She will be your Empress,” Zayne says calmly, “if you seek to insult my future wife yet again, I will have you removed immediately.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks when he affirms that you’ll be his wife. It may not be the best time, but the light flush covers your cheeks and you try to stop the pull of your lips, a smile threatening to spread across your face.

“If you think I- we will stand for such insolence, you are sorely mistaken, your majesty” the official snarls.

A bitter laugh echoes through the throne room. 

“Be grateful that I am not my father,” Zayne murmurs, “for he would have had your head. Remove your seal.”

The official sputters, looking around at the rest of the court members wildly. Most avoid his eyes, others unconsciously touching their own seals through the fabric of their robes.

You flinch when the official removes his Imperial seal angrily, tossing the little silver square at your feet.

“You have poisoned his mind,” he accuses heatedly, face reddened from his outburst, “and you should do well to remember your station.”

Irritation pricks at your skin, your teeth gritting together. You were well aware of your station, of your status and how you’re perceived. The incessant reminders aren’t doing well to calm your frayed nerves, brows pulling together as you glare at the official. 

“Bow to her.”

The rules of nobility have been set in place for longer than you could possibly know, and yet Zayne seems insistent on breaking them. It’s bold, even for him, to demand such a thing. You turn, shooting him a look, subtly shaking your head. There’s a hint of a smile on the Emperor’s face, as though enjoying this confrontation.

“I- I will do no such thing!” the official protests.

“You have already lost your seal and your position and you still will not do as I say?” Zayne murmurs, leaning forward in his throne.

You watch with wide eyes when the official does bow to you, the upper half of his body lowering. Another round of hushed whispers passes through the room, and you can feel the grand chancellor’s eyes boring into you. His authority was only second to the Emperor, the only man who held a real chance of changing Zayne’s mind.

“Good,” Zayne says, leaning back on his throne, “now leave us.”

The throne room clears out immediately, until you’re the only one remaining. You smile at him, stepping between his legs until you’re standing in front of him.

“I did not take you for a tyrant,” you tease, brushing his hair out of his face.

“And I did not know that protecting my future wife made me a tyrant,” Zayne muses, his arms wrapping around your waist.

He tugs you closer, his head falling forward to rest against your stomach, face burying itself in your robes. A soft sigh leaves you, fingers running through his loose hair, scratching at his scalp lightly.

“Tired?” you ask, arm wrapping around his neck.

The Emperor nods against your stomach, trying to press his face deeper. A laugh escapes you at his needy behavior, your hand managing to cup his jaw to bring him out of his hiding place. 

“The affairs of state have become bothersome,” Zayne says, peering up at you.

“Oh? You did not seem to mind before.”

“Playing coy?” Zayne smiles faintly, tugging you forward until you stumble and land on his lap.

“Hardly,” you whisper, pressing yourself closer as your hands curl into his robes.

The Emperor leans back on his throne, his hands kneading at your hips. You chase after him, eyes fluttering shut as you press your lips against his. Zayne lets out a low noise, drawing you closer, his hand sliding up your back as you kiss. The memory from last night is still fresh, the feeling of his hands on your body ingrained in your mind. 

“I cannot have enough of you,” he whispers, lips brushing over yours.

“You- you ought to rest,” you gasp, tilting your head to let him kiss down the length of your neck.

Zayne kisses your sternum, and back up your neck before he sighs and tucks his face into the crook of your neck. You hold him close, hand smoothing over his hair gently.

“I have made things difficult for you,” you say quietly.

He shakes his head, squeezing your waist reassuringly. 

“I have become complacent,” he murmurs, “simply letting others do as they please.”

You kiss his forehead when he lifts his head, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Exhaustion mars the Emperor’s face, his eyes looking sunken and dull. The sudden gathering of his court appears to have drained his energy.

“I shall have to gather them again,” Zayne says, “the trade agreements need attention.”

A smile settles on your face when he kisses your cheeks gently, his hands petting your sides. You move off of his lap, standing up with him reluctantly. Reaching out, you fix his hair and his robes that you had held onto earlier. 

“Finish, then retire to your chambers to rest,” you instruct, patting his chest.

Zayne laughs, his head dipping down to kiss you. You return the kiss eagerly, pulling apart with a few sweet, little pecks to his lips.

“You are already acting like a doting wife,” he whispers.

You flush when he says that, looking away. It’s still hard to get over the fact that Zayne, the Emperor, wants to marry you of all people. The thought of it all makes your palms sweaty, cheeks hot and heart race. There’s a whirlwind upon you, Zayne, tearing apart your preconceived notions of the Empire. 

“I want to dote on you.”

The words tumble from your lips, soft and vulnerable. You’ve never felt this way about a man, never had a man pay attention to you, never been touched by a man before him. It’s as though the Emperor’s expressions are always tender in the way he gazes at you. You’ve never known what it’s like to be in love, but if it’s like this, so startlingly soft and sickeningly sweet, you fear you may be lost in him forever. 

“I- I just meant-” you begin to correct yourself, fidgeting with your robes.

“I know what you meant,” Zayne says softly, his hands finding yours.

Your breath catches in your throat when he lifts your hands to his mouth, his thumbs running over your skin soothingly. Zayne keeps his eyes on you as he kisses across your knuckles, squeezing your hands gently after. 

“I said I take care of what’s mine,” he continues, drawing you close, “and you are mine now.”

You nod jerkily, shoving your face into his chest. The Emperor hums, stroking your hair slowly. Unfortunately, you don’t get to bask in his embrace for any longer, a guard announcing the arrival of a messenger.

“Rest,” you remind him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

Zayne nods, squeezing your waist before allowing you to draw away. 

-

The other girls crowd around you immediately when you enter your chambers, their expressions sly and knowing as they tug you towards the middle of the room, soft giggles filling the air.

“Well?” one of them asks, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Well what?” you ask, feigning innocence.

A chorus of complaints breaks out.

“Stop being shy!”

“We tell you our stories!”

“You must tell us!”

One of the girls reaches for you, her arm hooking with yours. She leans down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers conspiratorially.

“Was the Emperor well-endowed?”

“Oh, stop it!”

- 

The grand chancellor has been lurking in the hallways.

You’d noticed the tall man when you had left to make some tea, but after a considerable amount of time, he was still there. The cold breeze outside should’ve been enough to deter him, but you’ve figured he must be intent on speaking to you.

To be frank, you aren’t in the mood for another confrontation just days later from the disastrous court meeting that had occurred. It’s why you hold your breath as you sneak out from your chambers, feet padding against the floor lightly as you try to slip past the grand chancellor’s turned back.

“Will you avoid me for much longer?” he calls out. 

You wince, halting in place. The grand chancellor cannot be avoided forever, you suppose.

“Come along,” he says, his fingers motioning for you to follow him.

You do as he says begrudgingly, following after the grand chancellor. To your surprise, he leads you into the gardens rather than a private room. Snow is yet to fall today, autumn soon drawing to a close in a few weeks. You wipe the fallen leaves that have landed on a nearby bench, sitting down after the grand chancellor does.

It’s suffocatingly awkward, your fingers playing with each other agitatedly as he simply sits next to you, looking out at the plants and trees that make up the gardens. You realize it would be a foolish idea to let your guard down around him. The grand chancellor hadn’t reprimanded Zayne during that meeting and yet you remember the way he had been staring at you. His intentions are hard to discern, his loyalties to the Emperor and the Emperor alone. 

“Much like his father, his majesty is stubborn,” the grand chancellor says, “I have had the pleasure of knowing both men since they were children.”

“I see,” you murmur, peeking a glance at him.

You don’t know why he’s telling you this, half-expecting the man to begin berating you for becoming so close to Zayne. 

“I shall be frank,” he sighs, turning to face you, “I did not expect the Emperor to become so… enamored by you.”

“I did not expect it either,” you grumble defensively.

“His majesty is an intelligent man. He knows of the consequences and yet seems intent on taking you to wed.”

“Consequences?” you echo.

“Political alliances are frail,” he explains, picking up a fallen leaf and examining it, “marriage is the easiest way to prevent a war between regions.”

“We have not been at war for years!” you protest, shaking your head.

“And we will not be for many more,” the grand chancellor assures you, “I am simply warning you of what may come when you are Empress.”

You don’t understand the politics of the Empire, have never been privy to such things. The grand chancellor only adds to the confusion and uncertainty that has been brewing inside your mind. 

“I thought you would dissuade him,” you say quietly.

“The boy deserves happiness,” the grand chancellor murmurs, standing up, “if he wishes to be with you, then I will allow it.” He peers down at you, his lips thinning. “Take caution, child. Envy drives men to madness. The nobility may hide behind their bloodlines, but a cesspool festers within.”

The grand chancellor hands you the withered leaf.

“Loyalties change as the seasons do.”

- 

A week later, the Emperor finds you in the gardens, sitting under a tree.

“You have not come to see me,” Zayne says, sitting down beside you.

“I did not want to trouble you,” you reply.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. The Emperor’s fingers are stained with ink, streaks of black covering his pale skin. Zayne’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

“The grand chancellor is worried.”

“I surmised as much,” the Emperor sighs, his fingers playing with your robes.

You peer up at him, and Zayne leans down, dropping a kiss to your forehead. There’s a part of you that can’t help but feel you’re putting him in a position that he normally wouldn’t be in if he had simply chosen to marry someone of higher status.

“Do you truly wish to marry me?” you ask quietly, averting your gaze.

“Have I told you otherwise?” Zayne asks in return, his fingers gripping your chin to turn your head so that your eyes meet his again.

The tenderness in his eyes is overwhelming. You feel as though you’re drowning, swallowed up by his irises and his honest gaze. Things would’ve been far simpler if he were someone less important, but you can’t imagine Zayne being anything other than the Emperor, for it would be a disservice to the Empire.

You shift, standing up before settling your hands on his broad shoulders, straddling him as you climb up onto his lap. It’s improper to act so brazenly, but you’ve done far more improper things with him, acted far more brazenly in his presence. The Emperor grunts as you settle yourself on his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

“I am not fit to be your Empress,” you whisper.

Zayne doesn’t say anything for a moment, his hand simply rubbing up and down your back soothingly. Your throat is tight and you can feel your lips trembling. You don’t want to cry, but you can’t help it when a sniffle escapes you.

“And you think I am fit to be Emperor?” he whispers, “I am only here because of my father and his father before him and so on.”

“But you are the Emperor,” you insist, voice quavering, “I could not possibly-”

“Forget about nonsensical titles,” Zayne murmurs, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs wipe away the hot tears that have begun to roll down your cheeks, “I meant every word I said that night.”

“B- but-” 

“But nothing,” the Emperor soothes, staring into your eyes intently, “I would sooner have no one than not have you.”

“You are the worst,” you say tearily, pushing at his chest weakly. 

“Ah, I am sure,” he says, a small smile spreading across his face.

The Emperor cradles your head, tilting it to his will as he kisses away the fresh tears that wet your cheeks. He doesn’t stop there, his lips dragging over your skin gently. The Emperor kisses your brows, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, every inch of your face that is bared to him.

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

You kiss him gently and Zayne smooths his thumbs over your cheeks, deepening the kiss as he presses his lips against yours firmly. A soft whine leaves you, letting his tongue lick over the seam of your lips before he licks into your mouth, tongue delving deep. The Emperor kisses you as though trying to convince you of his words, as though to make you stay. 

“I want to show you something,” Zayne says, his forehead pressing against yours. You nod, moving to stand up. Zayne doesn’t let you, instead hauling you up into his arms and standing up. A surprised squeak bubbles out of you when you realize the Emperor is carrying you.

“Zayne!” you protest, “Zayne, people will see!”

Zayne only tightens his grip when you begin to squirm, brushing a kiss to your forehead to calm your ministrations.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, people do see. You try to shrink in his grasp, pressing yourself into his chest as the palace staff pause their duties to watch with wide eyes as the Emperor carries you out of the gardens. Some are unable to stop their jaws from slackening, others beginning to point and whisper amongst themselves.

The Emperor hardly bats an eye, his stride strong and purposeful as he carries you through the hallways and courtyards. It’s a statement in and of itself. 

You spy the smirk on an Imperial guard’s face when he opens up the doors to the throne room, your eyes narrowing when the man sends you a wink. The doors slam shut with a resounding thud, leaving only you and Zayne inside.

“Zayne- Zayne, no!” you hiss, hands scrabbling at his shoulders when you realize what he’s doing. 

Your legs kick out, trying to somehow climb up the Emperor’s tall frame. It’s futile against his strength, his hands manhandling you until he sets you down on his throne. If he doesn’t punish you for it, you fear the Heavens will. 

“Stay,” the Emperor says, pushing at your shoulders when you try to shoot up from where you’re sitting, “I command it.”

You sit in place rigidly, back straight. There are centuries of history that make up this throne, and you can’t help but feel that you are somehow dishonoring it all by sitting here. 

“What are you-” your brows furrowing when he suddenly begins to bend.

Fingers digging into the arms of the throne, you feel as though you might faint as you watch the Emperor bow to you before sinking to his knees. Zayne stares up at you expectantly, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“G- get up!” you whisper heatedly.

There’s no one here, but you can only imagine the severity of the consequences if someone were to stumble in here and find the Emperor on his knees for you.

“Command it,” he says, looking perfectly content in his current position.

“No one can command the Emperor!”

“I will not move unless you exert your authority,” Zayne says simply.

Your eye twitches at his insistence, at his own brazenness. 

“Say it,” he coaxes gently, “say it and I will stand.”

“I-” your breath catches in your throat awkwardly. You flush when Zayne nods his head encouragingly, your voice breathy when you begin to speak again. “I c-command you to stand.”

“Very good,” he murmurs, standing up and moving towards you.

Zayne smiles at you, his head dipping to crash his lips onto yours, his hands braced on the arms of his throne. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you fiercely. The Emperor continues his onslaught of kisses, dragging his lips down your neck as his fingers pull free the knot holding your robes together.

“You think your station determines your worth,” Zayne whispers, his teeth scraping your shoulder, “but this- you are worth more to me than the finest jade.”

“Stop,” you whisper, eyes slipping shut, “you must stop speaking like that. It does awful things to my heart.”

He laughs softly, kissing between your breasts. You bite your lip as his mouth envelops your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple. His teeth catch on it, tugging playfully before letting it pop free as he switches breasts. You run your fingers through his long hair, head tipping back against the throne as your body convulses.

The Emperor holds you in place, letting his tongue lave over your areola, his half-lidded eyes peering up at you to catch your reactions. You give him a weak smile and Zayne moans around your breast, his hand squeezing at the fat of your other breast.

Your dazed eyes watch as he kisses down your body, kissing your hip then your navel. He sinks to his knees once again, and you can’t find it in yourself to reprimand him, lost in the haze of lust and love. Zayne kisses the curls of hair on your mound, his hands gripping your calves to help guide your legs over his shoulders.

“I have missed this,” he whispers, his thumbs pulling apart your folds.

“As have I,” you sigh.

You moan when Zayne licks up a stripe over your cunt, collecting your arousal on his tongue. He rests his cheek against your thigh, watching intently as your aching hole clenches around nothing, watching as more slick drips from you.

“Stop staring,” you mumble, pushing at his head gently.

“I enjoy the sight,” he says in return.

Your thighs twitch when he pushes the hood of your clit up a little more, exposing the swollen bud. Zayne groans, kissing the inside of your thigh firmly before licking over your cunt again. A strangled gasp rips out of your throat, hands tightening in his hair as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Z- Zayne- ah- hah!” 

A soft whimper escapes when he kisses your clit, his fingers dimpling into the flesh of your thighs harshly. Zayne pulls you to the edge of the throne, his face burying deeper as he groans again, drinking down your slick. 

You squeal when he fucks his tongue into you, body shaking uncontrollably as you fist his hair tighter. He hisses against your cunt, renewing his efforts. You can feel his mouth opening wider, trying to consume you whole, licking and sucking desperately at every inch of velvety, sensitive flesh he can reach.

His nose rubs against your clit, and you’re seeing stars. The Emperor makes an obscene noise and you can feel his tongue moving inside of you, the feeling making your thighs clamp around his head. 

“Have- have you ever put your fingers inside of yourself?” he asks, raising his head.

You shake your head, watching as his fingers stroke over your clit lovingly, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your knee.

“May I?” the Emperor whispers, his finger prodding at your hole.

You give him a jerky nod, legs falling apart a little more for him. He smiles up at you, his finger sinking into you slowly. You whimper at the sensation, clenching around his finger. Zayne adds another soon after, and you’re panting desperately, hips bucking as he curls them inside of you. 

“The scroll said to do something like this,” he mutters under his breath.

“You- oh- you read a scroll?” you grit out.

“It was quite informative,” Zayne murmurs, beginning to move his fingers.

“Why must you be so- ah!” 

You don’t get to finish your sentence, your knuckles turning white as you grip the throne for stability as he latches his mouth back onto your clit, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. The heat inside your stomach grows more intense with each flick of his tongue, his teeth scraping against your sensitive flesh for good measure.

Moans have begun to fill the air, and you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore, letting go completely. You guide his head to where you want him, toes curling against his back, crumpling his silk robes. Zayne’s mouth works with his fingers diligently, his fingers crooking up a little more to graze the spot where you need it most.

You peek down to see the pink flush on his cheeks and your back arches, his name leaving your mouth in a cry as you come on his fingers and his tongue. The Emperor moans as you writhe, his fingers moving in and out of you a couple more times before freeing them from your clenching walls.

Chest heaving, you pant, slumping back in the throne as he kisses across your puffy folds and sensitive cunt. Your thighs twitch a little when he peppers soft, little kisses against your clit and you can’t help but think the man has an obsession with its ability to bring you such pleasure.

The Emperor kisses up your body and you cup his jaw, kissing him sweetly.

“I fear this throne may be ruined,” you whisper against his lips.

He laughs, his nose nudging yours gently, “I recall promising to take you on it.”

“Before that,” you stand up on shaky legs, pushing at his chest until he sits back on his throne.

Adoration glimmers in his eyes, watching as your loose robes slip from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You stand bare before the Emperor, and you catch the slight spreading of his thighs to relieve the ache of his cock.

This time it’s you that’s sinking to your knees, pulling his robes free. The muscles of his abdomen clench when you run your fingers down his chest, his hand coming up to cover his flushed face.

“Why are you shy now?” you accuse, pouting up at him.

His thighs twitch when you curl your hand around his cock and you can feel the throb of his fat, hot length. 

“You do not have to-” he whispers when he sees your head dip.

“I want to,” you say stubbornly.

Zayne nods in acquiescence, moaning when you begin to drag your hand up and down his cock. It’s a little intimidating when you stare at it up close, but you swallow down your worries, leaning forward to kiss the tip experimentally.

His cock twitches in response, pre-cum beading at the tip. Your tongue darts out, licking up the little glob, feeling the taste of him spread across your tongue.

“Zayne,” you whisper, breath fanning over his cock, “Zayne, you must watch me.”

The Emperor groans at your lilting voice, his eyes opening the moment your mouth envelops him. His hips buck and you nearly seize up at the feeling of the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You mewl around him, breathing through your nose, tongue swirling before your head begins to bob up and down.

“Fuck,” Zayne hisses, his fingers spreading across your scalp, “my love, you are devious.”

You hum in response, pulling off of his cock in favor of giving more attention to the tip of it. You swirl your tongue, tongue flicking at the flared head and it’s enough to make Zayne whine, his thighs spreading wider for you. 

“Can you take it deeper?” he asks, his fingers trailing down the curve of your cheek.

“I shall try,” you murmur, mouth opening for him.

He hooks his thumb into the corner of his mouth, cupping your chin before his thumb spreads over the flat of your tongue. You smile, eyes flashing with mischievousness as you suck his thumb into your mouth, tongue flicking against the pad of it. 

Zayne shoots you a searing look and you watch as he grips the base of his cock. He drags the tip of his cock against your closed lips, entranced as he watches his pre-cum smears across your lips. His other hand presses at the back of your head and your mouth opens again, letting him guide his cock into your mouth.

“Just like that,” he whispers, “good girl.”

You can feel arousal shooting through you at the praise, slick pooling between your thighs yet again. The ache is so unbearable that you shove your hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit.

The Emperor pushes your head gently and you go willingly, slurping and sucking around his thick cock. Saliva drips from your mouth, coating his cock and his balls, strings of it landing on the edge of his throne. You rub at your clit faster, eyes fluttering as he brushes your loose hair away from your face.

“A- ah,” Zayne rasps, “hah- my love.”

The term of endearment is enough to have you taking it upon yourself to sink down his cock even more. The tufts of his black hair hit your nose for a moment, but you’re inexperienced and you’ve overestimated your own abilities. The feeling of his cock filling your throat is too much, and you choke, throat seizing, causing you to pull off with a hoarse cough as your eyes water.

Concern flits across Zayne’s face, his thumb swiping over your swollen lips. You give him a watery smile, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He sighs in relief when he sees you’re okay, leaning forward to place a tender kiss to your lips.

“So willful,” the Emperor murmurs.

He slides his hands under your armpits, picking you up and setting you down on his lap.

“I can do it again,” you mumble, gaze lowering to see his cock pressed between your bodies.

Zayne smiles, petting at your sides, “as much as I enjoyed the feeling, I cannot have my darling choking on my cock.”

“I was not choking,” you whine, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“If you insist,” Zayne soothes, “but when we are married, I will have many more opportunities to watch you swallow my cock.”

The Emperor’s constant promise of marriage has your heart lurching and you lean forward, crushing your lips against his. He grunts in surprise at your sudden action but returns the kiss just as eagerly, squeezing at your hips.

You whine into his mouth, his hair tickling your skin as he presses forward, his hips rolling up into yours. You can feel his hard cock between your thighs, the length dragging between your folds. 

Zayne groans at the sensation, his head falling back and you take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, rolling your hips wantonly, your nails digging into his broad shoulders.

“Who are you?” he whispers, groping the fat of your ass.

“W- what?” you pull back, confusion spreading across your face.

The Emperor guides your hips to continue moving, your folds hugging his cock as you grind against it.

“Who are you?” Zayne asks again, “your title, what is it?”

Pleasure has made your mind hazy, and you can’t discern whether he’s playing a game of some sort with his questions, or whether he’s suffering from some sort of untimely amnesia.

“Your concubine,” you reply, “I thought-”

You jolt in his arms when he suddenly lands a heavy spank to your ass, his eyes narrowing when he hears your answer.

“Incorrect,” Zayne murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass in warning.

“I am your concubine- ah!”

Zayne shakes his hand, spanking you twice. You can feel the prickly heat spread across your skin, the pain searing. You glare up at him, and he smiles back, his hand smoothing over your reddened backside. 

“Who are you, my love?” he whispers, his nose nudging yours.

Oh. Oh. 

The Emperor’s insistence is a remarkable thing, you think. He may be even more stubborn than you are. Zayne’s fingers tapping against your cheek brings you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting his. 

“I- I am your Empress,” you say quietly.

“Precisely.”

Zayne slots his lips over yours and you mewl, your hips beginning to rock again, inner thighs wet with your slick and his pre-cum smeared over his abdomen. He kisses you over and over until you’re short of breath and your lips are swollen and slick with his spit.

“Will you take my cock, my love?” 

“Y- yes,” you say airily, lifting your hips as he grips the base of his cock, “please.”

Zayne squeezes your hip, watching as you bite your lip and sink down on his cock. His cock is just as girthy as you remember, filling up your needy hole perfectly. Your body falls forward at the feeling and Zayne kisses your cheek, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Always take my cock so well,” he praises.

Your hands plant themselves against his chest as your head tips back, taking what you want from him. Hips rising and falling, airy moans filling the air, you ride the Emperor. Zayne moans with you, his hands kneading at the flesh of your sides before drifting to take handfuls of your ass too.

“So good,” you slur, the force of your movements increasing, “feels so good, Zayne.”

“I know,” Zayne whispers, watching the bounce and sway of your breasts as you move atop him, “use me, my love.”

You do as he says, using him to drive yourself further to the edge of pleasure. The sounds filling the throne room are lewd, the clap of skin echoing throughout coupled with your shared noises.

Your thighs burn as you roll your hips, taking his cock deeper into the heat of your cunt, feeling it punch into the most sensitive spot inside of you. It’s too much, the mind-numbing sensations and your own body tiring with every movement.

You slump against him, hips slowing to a pitiful stop, his fat cock still stuffed inside of you. It twitches and you whimper, peering up at Zayne desperately.

“Husbands should take care of their wives,” you mumble, lips pressing against his.

“But we are not yet married,” he whispers teasingly. 

Zayne kisses you slowly, his hand sliding up your neck and stopping to cup your cheek. He molds you to his will, maneuvering your body as he sees fit, grabbing at every inch of flesh he can reach.

“But I am yours,” you say earnestly, “and I will be yours till the day I die.”

“You will, won’t you?” Zayne smiles, drawing you closer, “nothing makes me happier, my dear.”

You wail when he suddenly ruts up into you, balls slapping against your ass as he tightens his grip to bounce you up and down on his lap. Your hands lose their holds on his shoulders, scrabbling for stability until you find purchase on the top of his throne. 

The Emperor is fucking you on his throne. 

You try to feel some sense of mortification, but you can’t, the feeling of his cock erasing all sensible thoughts from your mind. Zayne slaps your ass and you squeak, body falling forward even more. Your breasts press into his face and you whine when he mouths at them, sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

The Emperor’s name leaves your mouth in a pleading chant and he answers your needs, pulling you down until your cunt is flush with the base of his cock, pussy swallowing up his length completely. Zayne slows to a grind, keeping his cock stuffed inside of you. 

You curl an arm around his neck, hugging him closer to your breasts and Zayne groans, his mouth opening wider to try and take in your entire breast. He stares up at you, the flush on his cheeks deepened and eyes so, so soft. 

Your lips slot over his as soon as his mouth detaches from your breast, your lips working against his slowly and sweetly, hips swaying back to meet the slow thrusts of his hips.

“You have ruined me,” you confess, cheek resting on his shoulder.

“Better it be me than some other man,” he whispers.

You agree with him on that. Zayne has given you far more than you could’ve possibly dreamed, the twist of fate bringing you something, or rather, someone to cherish.

“You are everything, Zayne.”

He groans at your bold words, his head falling back against his throne. You come undone in slow waves, body trembling as he comes with you, his cock kicking inside of you as hot cum spurts from the tip, filling you up. You can feel the thickness of it, cum spilling into you for a few moments longer as your hips slow to a stop.

You both breathe heavily, his chest moving under yours. A thin sheen of sweat covers your bodies, robes forgotten as they lie at the foot of the throne. 

A soft smile graces your lips as you move his hair out of his eyes, tilting his head to kiss his forehead.

“You spoil me,” Zayne mutters, nuzzling into your palm.

“I think it is the other way around,” you laugh breathlessly.

He sighs, slumping in his throne, his cock still inside of you. You can feel it softening, no longer plugging you full as cum begins to leak out from your pussy.

“I may need more tea,” you whisper.

Zayne huffs in amusement, his fingers collecting his viscous cum. He smears it across your pussy, his fingers catching onto your clit as he rubs his cum onto the little bud. He lifts his hand to your mouth and you accept eagerly, staring into his eyes as you suck his fingers clean of cum.

“Minx,” he mutters.

You giggle, kissing the pads of his fingers affectionately, shifting to sit on his thigh. Zayne smiles in return, his hands massaging your sore thighs. He kisses your cheek a few times, peppers a few kisses here and there over your shoulder.

“Feeling better?” Zayne asks, nuzzling your cheek.

“Much,” you whisper, smiling up at him, “but I fear I may not be able to walk.”

“Shall I carry you again?” the Emperor whispers.

You roll your eyes, prodding your fingers into his chest, “I did not enjoy that.”

“Lying is punishable by death.”

“You are insufferable,” you whisper.

Zayne leans forward for another kiss, but you deny him, slipping off of his lap. He laughs when your thighs tremble, reaching out to catch you by the waist before your knees buckle.

He tugs you onto his lap, thwarting your escape as he kisses you again. You think you won’t be leaving this place anytime soon.

-

Zayne doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful in this world than when you’re sleeping. 

The slow rise and fall of your chest, the sweet innocence of your face, your hair splayed against the pillows, the gods must favor him for they’ve sent him a vision.

He smiles as he watches you stir in your sleep, brushing away the hair that’s fallen onto your face. Zayne can’t resist leaning closer, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek, feeling your soft skin under his.

Zayne likes it when you smile, when you glare, the way you protest against his subtle teases. He’s never met someone as endearing as you, never bothered to take interest in another until you came along with that tray of tea clutched in your hands. He hasn’t told you about how his own heart flutters at the mere thought of you, and doesn’t think he will. He’d be better off showing you instead.

Above all, he remembers when you’d stumbled into his chambers, your flustered disposition as you’d apologized. He’d been lonely before you, trapped in a dull existence with others meandering through his life without purpose.

But you’ve changed things now. He feels free when he hears your laugh, the light in your eyes warming him from within. The world around him seems brighter, sparks of color appearing in places he had never seen before. 

You had painted the world for him.

[thebreakfastgenie]

It is extremely disturbing how many posts I see claiming that Roe v. Wade was overturned on Biden's watch and blaming him and the Democratic Party for it. It's disturbing on a number of levels.

First, it was Trump and Bush-appointed justices who handed down the Dobbs decision. This is a flagrant example of blaming Democrats for things Republicans did, and not coincidentally is one of the the most widely felt differences between the two parties. As a result, it's usually the first example Democrats and their allies point to; this misappropriation suggests a deliberate attempt to undercut that fact.

Secondly, and related to the first point, it obfuscates who the real enemy is, and I am comfortable using word "enemy" to describe the Republican Party because of the policies they advocate and enact. The truth is that states controlled by the Republican Party were where the effects of Dobbs are most severely felt, while states controlled by the Democratic Party are passing laws to protect abortion. It is important to know which party opposes abortion and which party supports it. If the Republicans gain control of the House, Senate, and White House, they will pass a national abortion ban, as they have done at the state level in several places.

Thirdly, blaming Biden for Dobbs demonstrates a very concerning lack of understanding of how the government functions. The judiciary is its own branch of government; judges are appointed by the president and confirmed by the senate. It doesn't matter who is president when a decision is handed down, it matters who was president when the justices were appointed. People sometimes react to this by moving the goalposts and claiming the real issue was a failure by Democrats to "codify" Roe v. Wade. I am not sure what "codify" means in this context, and I'm not sure they are either. One thing it does not mean is that congress can pass a law saying "abortion is legal forever." Republicans could easily repeal such a law and it the federal government cannot necessarily prevent states from restricting abortion at the state level. Roe v. Wade was a ruling stating that the constitution guaranteed a right to privacy, which included the right to have an abortion. This prevented abortion restrictions in a way federal law cannot. That doesn't mean passing federal law protecting abortion is a bad idea, but it isn't a foolproof protection. It's fair to argue that the Democratic Party and the left of center generally were complacent about abortion. The form of this complacency was not taking the courts seriously, while the right spent fifty years openly filling the courts with anti-abortion judges.

The last thing that worries me is that this is popping up phrased almost the exact same way all over the place. I am afraid that it is not merely incompetence, but intentional misinformation, that is then repeated by the incompetent who believe it.

I know some will probably dismiss this post as being from a "vote harder" liberal Biden supporter, but whatever your feelings about Biden, the Democratic Party, or the democratic process in the U.S., you should care about the truth. The truth is that Roe v. Wade was overturned by Republican-appointed judges and abortion bans are being enacted by Republican elected officials, and Joe Biden opposes these things. You can do with that information whatever you wish, but you denying it is dishonest.

[wanderingwinds333]

My Sweetheart, Your Nightmare.

Pairing: Azriel X Reader

Summary: Having noticed that Elain clings to Azriel, Feyre mentions she thinks Azriel and Elain would be good together. Questions why the mother didn’t make them mates. Rhysand quickly lets her in on an important piece of information.

“‘Why not make them mates?” Feyre states as she witnesses her sister and Azriel down in the garden.

Rhysands eyes widen at his mates brazen comment and goes to interject but before he can she continues on.

“They look perfectly matched do they not? Two beautiful and caring people. Three sisters for three brothers just make sense?” Feyre says sounding upset.

“Feyre darling. It appears I’ve left out some pretty important information about this family. It’s my fault really, she’s been out doing my messy work for the night court this whole time. Keeping all the other threats at bay and …immobilizing them so Azriel has less work on his plate.” Rhysand rambles.

“What? I’m not following Rhys?” Feyre questions.

Rhysand sighs but goes to explain further.

“Azriel is only doing as I have asked in looking after Elain. He already has a mate Feyre. One he is very committed to. A female that you most certainly never want to hear the words you just spoke about your sister and him. She- “ a throat clears from behind them.

“SHE, is right here Rhysand.” A sultry voice states.

Rhysands eyes widen in what Feyre can only see as fear.

“Y/N! You are home! Oh Azriel is going to be thrilled, let me just go get him for you.” Rhysand quickly goes to grab Feyre and tries to leave but y/n has other plans.

Magic surges across the room and Feyres feet feel stuck to the floor. She turns her head to look at Rhysand and notices he is in the same predicament.

“Dammit” Rhysand whispers more to himself.

“Ah ah ah, Rhysie. That’s no way to greet your favorite sister in law. You haven’t even introduced me to your mate yet.”

Feyre turns to actually get a good look at the female that has somehow over powered the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

Ashen white hair, icy eyes, taller than most fae females, and she has a beautiful silhouette that filled out a pair of black leathers quite nicely, Feyre thought. Cauldron boil her, this female was gorgeous.

Before Feyre could find anymore of your perfections Rhysand interrupted her train of thoughts.

“Think less loudly Feyre Darling, I’m starting to become jealous.” Rhysand deadpans.

Feyre blushes and immediately looks down to her feet.

“You know I have that affect on most fae Rhysie. Don’t be a sour puss.” Y/n smugly states.

Y/n descends upon them and actually goes to bow before Feyre.

“It is an honor to officially meet you my High Lady. My name is y/n, assassin of the Night Court. Mate and wife of Azriel.” Y/N proudly states.

“I-it’s lovely to finally meet you y/n.” Feyre stutters out.

This female infront of Feyre is terrifying and ethereal. Feyre already knows she is lethal and all thoughts she had prior of how Elain and Azriel were perfectly matched go straight out the window. She can see it now…why the cauldron makes the pairings it does.

Y/N stands to her full height but all playfulness she exuded before is gone.

“I know you did not know of my existence until just now…so for that reason alone I’ll let your comments slide. But Azriel is MY mate and the saying ‘if I can’t have them, then no one can’ is very much the saying I live by when it comes to him.”

Feyre can only nod her head dumbfounded.

A second later shadows envelope the room. More lively than Feyre has ever seen them.

Azriel soon enters with a confused Elain in tow.

When Azriel lays his eyes on y/n, Feyre can quite literally see the tension leave his body.

“Sweetheart.” Azriel speaks so softly. He rushes to y/n and envelopes her in a hug that looks like it would hurt.

“Hi love.” Y/n whispers back just as soft and leans her forehead against his.

It’s an intimate moment that everyone else in the room feel like they are intruding on.

But one moment the feared shadowsinger and his mate were there…and the next gone.

Rhysand releases a breath that he had been holding.

“Well that was y/n. She’s half high fae and half witch. The people of Prythian call her Nightmare because fae parents tell their children if you don’t behave she’ll come in the night while you are sleeping and take you to her dungeon. Which isn’t totally untrue…it’s just criminals and murderers that she takes to her dungeon. You won’t see her or Azriel again until maybe two or three months from now .” Rhysand states.

“What? Where will they be?” Elain finally speaks.

After witnessing all she just had she can’t say she’s not a bit disappointed. It was obvious what you were to Azriel.

“Oh they are going to pick up their children from Azriels mom’s cottage and spend the rest of their time at their home.” Rhysand throws out casually.

“THEY HAVE CHILDREN? Rhysand what else have you conveniently left out?!” Feyre berates.

“….well I think that’s it honestly. OH they have a pet wolf who is very protective of the children. Also my niece and nephews, they enjoy tormenting people in different ways than their parents…mental manipulation. Just lock your mind up real tight around them. God I love them and proud they are all daemati like me but they once convinced me I had a thing for Beron for over a week until y/n realized what they were doing and made them release my mind.” Rhysand annoyedly admits.

Elain and Feyre can only stare at him in shock. He simply shrugs his shoulders like it was normal and walks off.

Elain breaks the silence and turns to Feyre. “I think y/n is going to end up being best friends with Nesta.” the two break out in giggles and they honestly can’t wait to see that unfold.

[fortune-maiden]

With a better writing team and less stupid cartoon antics, The Double really could have been the next Minglan