#but you wouldn't know that without being close to her. she knows what kind of impression matters.

[pkg4mumtown]

I Bet You Look Good in Pink (On the Dancefloor)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: You panicked and grabbed some poor stranger off the street to be your fake boyfriend to get your mom off your back. What could go wrong?

Content Warnings: Crack, fluff, meet cute, first kiss, first person pov, male reader, fake relationship

A/N: This is pure crack influenced by this guy I saw doing videos walking up to dudes saying “I’m out with my husband, say hi mom” and wanted to explore Hotch reacting to that while Rossi ran amok at the end. That’s it. That’s the fic. Enjoy!

Also available on AO3. I recommend having work skins on if you do, so you can see the social media and text skins.

I was set out on a brisk jog—more of a speed walk, who was I kidding—before work to prepare my mind for the day's stresses. All that went to hell in a handbasket when I felt my phone buzz and my earbuds start playing a jingle, which only meant that my mother was calling me. 

I’d been dodging her calls for weeks knowing she was asking whether or not I was bringing my “boyfriend” to my cousin's wedding. I had made the smart decision to tell my mom I was seeing someone—a total lie—thinking I could make several excuses about his absence and things would be okay, considering I didn’t see my mom as often as I should.

Then, my cousin just had to announce a wedding on short notice. 

I had never wanted someone to call off a wedding so badly in my life. My mother couldn’t resist meddling either and marked me down as having a plus one without consulting me first.

“Patience” and “understanding” were not words I would use to describe my reaction.

I groaned when I saw that it was a video call, too. Sighing heavily, I answered the phone and picked up the pace again, hoping the loud sounds of the city and my huffing and puffing would get her off the phone faster. Knowing her, I wouldn't be so lucky.

“Hey, Mom,” I breathed heavily, my feet pounding on the pavement. 

“Hi, honey, I wanted to talk to you about Vanessa's wedding.”

“Yea? What about it?” I asked nonchalantly barely able to hold in my labored breaths, looking forward rather than at the phone so I didn't trip and eat the pavement.

“You haven't double booked anything have you?” she asked, a wary tone to her voice, expecting me to cancel at the last minute.

“No, Mom. I didn't forget.”

“Then, your boyfriend is coming, right? I think it’s been long enough that I should meet him, sweetie,” she smiled on the other end. 

Honestly, she was right. I had told her about “him” about six months ago, being as vague as possible every time he was brought up.

My brain—on the other hand—had other ideas causing me to immediately panic, not knowing how to respond. If I told her I lied to her and that he wasn’t real or that we “broke up", she would be back to hounding me and trying to set me up with every man she met. If I made another excuse, she would be suspicious. I almost felt bad lying to her, but “getting the hint” was not one of her strong suits.

As my brain warred with itself, I spotted another man running just up ahead dressed in a dark t-shirt, shorts, and plain running shoes. He was slowing down as we approached a crosswalk with flashing red lights indicating that it wasn’t safe to cross. 

This might end up topping my list of idiotic plans, but—

“Yes, Mom. My boyfriend is coming,” I raised my voice slightly as I finally got to the crosswalk where the man was bouncing on his toes to stay warm. 

I noticed the vague glance he shot my way at my voice and presence, but that was the only acknowledgment I received.

He was kind of cute this close-up. His soft dark hair contrasted sharply with his light complexion. He was in his mid to late forties but clearly in excellent shape and by his stone-faced expression, a government worker like many people in this area.

“We’re actually finishing up our run, soon,” I stepped closer to him, meeting his hawk-like eyes with a pleading, pitiful expression. With reflexes I wasn’t aware I possessed, I switched the call to speaker and turned the phone toward him, “Say, ‘hi’, babe!”

The glare he gave me was a mix of incredulous confusion and wariness as he checked his surroundings like he was expecting someone to come out and attack him while I distracted him.

Definitely a government agent, then.

“Um,” he started cautiously. “Who are—"

I hurriedly tapped the mute button on the call, wanting to grab his wrist and plead like a child asking for sweets. I restrained myself, expecting that he would have me face down on the concrete in a second if I did. 

I probably wouldn’t even mind that.

“Hi, sorry,” I quickly spat my name out at him in my haste. “Please, play along. I’ll owe you my entire life, please,” I begged.

Was I being dramatic? Totally. But I was desperate to give her an actual face to get her off of my back.

One last glance around us and he relented, bending somewhat to be level with the phone’s camera. I tapped the mute button again.

“Sorry, Mom, his hearing is a little bad. Babe, say ‘hi’ to my mom,” I raised my voice, positioning myself so I was just in front of him and both of us fit in the frame.

I heard him slowly exhale behind me, then a soft smile spread over his face in the camera preview, “Hello, Ms...”

I felt him smack my back with the back of his hand, making me jump but I murmured her last name out of the corner of my mouth.

“Right, hello,” he smiled again. “I’m age—Aaron. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Oh, how handsome,” she winked and I felt my soul immediately leave my body. 

How childish would it be to launch my phone into the street right now?

“Yea, um, so—we're—” I started but was interrupted.

“Aaron, sweetheart, I love my son to death but his memory is awful. I hope he told you about his cousin’s wedding. I’d love to meet you there,” she interrupted me.

Aaron’s smile faded somewhat, probably internally panicking as much as I was.

“I should have stayed home,” I heard him murmur under his breath. “Uhm, no, but it’s been a pretty hectic couple of weeks for me, so it’s not entirely his fault,” Aaron covered smoothly, bringing a hand up to my shoulder and stepping closer.

Damn, he was good.

“You poor thing,” she cooed. “Well, I hope you can make it.”

“Of course, I’ll do my best.”

“Oh, and she changed the colors to pastel pink, so I hope that’s not too hard for you to come up with, honey.”

My jaw clenched. Of course, she changed the colors. Luckily, I had a navy blue suit that would go with the only pastel pink shirt I owned.

“I’ll make it work, Mom, thanks.”

I could feel Aaron glaring at me through the video preview, his fingertips digging into my shoulder. Like he was questioning every life choice that landed him in this present moment. 

I reached my hand back, fingers barely grazing the side of his neck as I looked back at him, “I think you have one.”

Aaron’s eyes flicked down to my lips and back to my eyes so quickly I almost missed it, “You would—uh—know better than me.” He sounded unfocused and dazed as he reacted to my movements.

“I think so,” I winked, pressing my lips to his stubbly chin and focusing back on the phone, seeing my mother’s eyes lit up with glee. “Anyway, Mom, I gotta go home and get ready for work. Love you.”

“Okay, have a great week, sweetie, I love you, too! It was nice to meet you, Aaron.”

“You as well,” he smiled, giving her a small wave before the call ended.

My face dropped as soon as the call was over, turning to face Aaron, “I am so sorry for that! I panicked and I’ll admit it was not my finest moment. And I’m especially sorry if that whole thing made you uncomfortable because I’m...you know...and I kissed—yea—uhm...I’m sorry.”

Aaron scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “It’s okay.” He shifted in place, looking at the people passing us rather than me, “I’m actually...bi? Is that the word?”

This man was getting better by the minute.

“Good enough,” I smiled.

The silence stretched between us again. Was it too late to run across the street and away from this silence? I glanced at the light as it turned back to red—the third one we’ve missed now.

“I’m—uh—sorry, too,” he finally said.

“Why?” I asked him, confused, “I trampled all over your morning.”

“I thought you were distracting me to—er—hurt me, rob me, ambush me...” he trailed off, looking just past me.

I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up my throat and morphed into a full-bodied laugh, “Honey, please...look at me.”

Aaron’s shocked face slowly cracked, laughing with me finally. His shoulders relaxed a little, not as on edge as he was when I first approached him.

He had a beautiful smile, I was learning.

“What—uh—what day is that wedding?” he finally asked as our laughter settled down.

“Oh, you don’t actually have to go. I can make something up, really,” I waved him off. “I just needed to give her a face to give my claims some validation.”

Aaron shrugged, his arms flailing slightly, “My coworkers tell me I need to get out more, so...”

Oh.

“Well, in that case...” I unlocked my phone and checked the calendar to be absolutely sure lest my mother fry me, “It’s next month. The fifth. You have approximately twenty-five days.”

How was this my life right now?

“My schedule is—well it’s unpredictable, so I’ll let you know?” he cringed a little.

Government agent. Right. No wonder his posture was so good.

“And how were you planning on doing that?” I asked with a smirk.

He froze for a second, brain rebooting, “I was hoping I could get your number, actually,” he laughed shyly, looking down and patting his pockets to locate his phone.

He fumbled with the phone for a second and finally handed it to me. Pursing my lips, I laughed to myself as I typed my name in and put “boyfriend” with a heart in parenthesis before typing my number in. I handed it back to him, seeing the way his face flushed at the name I put in. 

“I’m serious, though, if you can’t or don’t want to just let me know. You’re in no way obligated.”

“Yeah, I will,” he nodded, making a move to continue his journey.

We both crossed the street, him breaking back out into a run and me a brisk-ish stroll as I got my music playing again. I caught him looking back a couple of times, making me wonder if he was challenging me to catch up or making sure I didn’t follow him home. A smile pulled across his face as he saw me start to speed up. As we reached the next intersection, I held my hand up in a wave as I turned left while he continued straight and crossed the street.

-

Aaron POV

Aaron had been understandably wary of the man who approached him that morning. He had a dangerous job and had experienced more than enough trauma for one lifetime. 

He was ambushed. Just not like had expected.

All of a sudden, he was talking to a lady and gently touching a man he didn’t know and—

Uh.

Did he just kiss Aaron?

On his chin, but still.

He wasn't sure if he was conscious at that moment, except for the fire burning on his face.

Aaron made it home and to Quantico in a haze. He sat at his desk, staring at the phone in his hand like it might suddenly burst into flames. A phone number, a name, and an invitation. Nothing more. Nothing less.

It had been hours since the incident, and yet, the warmth of a stranger’s lips on his cheek still lingered like an unresolved case in his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was the sheer audacity and absurdity of the encounter or the way he had simply…gone along with it. The sound of the stranger’s voice still echoed—quick, clever, and just a little desperate.

"Babe, say ‘hi’ to my mom."

And Aaron—fucking—Hotchner, a man trained in several facets like terrorism, law, and behavioral analysis, had folded like a damn lawn chair.

Which is why he now found himself in a situation far more dangerous than being ambushed in the middle of a morning run—standing in Penelope Garcia’s office.

Penelope turned in her chair and blinked at him, fingers frozen over her keyboard assessing him.

“Sir,” she said slowly, looking him up and down like he had just walked in wearing a clown wig. He certainly felt like it. “Hi, sir. Hotch. Uh, sir. What… are you doing here? Do we have a case?”

Aaron didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he set a paper down on her desk where he’d written the man’s number and slid it toward her with two fingers. “Can you run this for me?” He cleared his throat. “Unofficially.”

Her eyes flicked from the paper to his face, then back to the paper. Then back to his face.

She gasped, “Oh my God. Is this—” She clapped her hands over her mouth, muffling an excited squeal. “Are you asking for a background on a new lady friend?”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding under the pressure, “Garcia.”

“You are.” Her voice was an octave higher, her whole body vibrating with barely contained glee. “Oh, my stars, this is my favorite day—”

“It's not—” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not like that.”

Garcia wiggled her fingers at him. “Oh, no, no, no, sir, you do not get to walk into my office, ask me to dig into some poor lady's entire life, and then pretend like this isn’t about romance.”

Aaron exhaled sharply.

There was no easy way out of this now.

“He approached me this morning,” he admitted. “Called me his boyfriend—to his mother over the phone—and I…played along. His mother invited me to his cousin’s wedding.”

Garcia gawked at Aaron, completely glossing over the fact that Aaron had implied a man. He shouldn’t be surprised that she didn’t care, “You played along?”

He glanced away, embarrassed, “It was—unexpected.”

She pointed at Aaron accusingly. “You liked it.”

“I did not.”

“You so did.”

“Garcia—”

She cackled, typing the number in furoiusly and bringing up several windows, “Well, now I have to know who this mystery man is. I would have never guessed, boss man, but I can't judge a book by it’s cover. Oh, what if he’s a spy? Or an undercover agent? Or—”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a scam artist,” Aaron muttered.

She hummed, making a tsk with her tongue and teeth, “Doubt it. Cute guys don’t run scams, they just break hearts.”

Hotch gave her a flat look, “That’s how you—”

“Not a word,” she held a finger up. “Give me five minutes.”

And just like that, Garcia’s fingers were flying over the keyboard. The glow of her multiple monitors flashed across her face as she scrolled through the man’s life with the skill of a seasoned technical analyst and the enthusiasm of a gossip columnist.

Aaron crossed his arms, exhaling sharply at her wild glee, “Anything?”

“Oh, my dear sir, I have everything.” Garcia’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh my God.”

Aaron's posture stiffened, leaning in closer to the screen. Dread filled his stomach at what she could have found, “What?”

“He’s adorable!”

Aaron immediately frowned, he was too old for this shit, “That’s not relevant.”

“Oh, but it is,” Penelope turned one of the monitors slightly so he could see. “Look at this. Your mystery man is a dog dad—and look at this cutie pie of a pup! He posts pictures of her in cute sweaters—sir, he’s a sweater-on-dogs guy.”

Aaron barely glanced at the screen. “And?”

Garcia gasped, “Oh, and? And? That means he has a soft heart, sir. That means he is a man of culture. Also, look at him.”

Hotch did not look at the screen. He refused actually.

Garcia, however, had no such reservations. She clicked on another post. “He hikes! Look at him in the mountains with that perfect lighting—who is taking these pictures, wow? Oh, that’s so unfair. Pretty people should not have good lighting and cute dogs.”

Aaron exhaled through his nose, long and slow. “He sure was struggling to catch up to me today.”

“He strolls, sir. Not everyone runs marathons.”

“Garcia.”

She ignored him, clicking another post, “Ooh, he bakes. He’s posted about trying new recipes. There’s a caption—‘Husband material 😏😉’.” She turned to him, eyes wide with revelation. “This is so fate.”

He finally looked at her, doing his best to look unimpressed but he was slowly softening to the man, too, “Fate?”

She pointed at the screen. “Sir, this man makes baked goods, is absolutely adorable, and randomly fake-dated you? That is the universe working in real-time.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. Why had she put so much stress on “you”? He was a catch, too.

“Oh, wait, what’s this?” She clicked on another post and let out yet another squeal, “He dressed up as a cowboy for Halloween. Sir, I swear to you—”

“I’m leaving.”

Garcia lunged forward, grabbing his wrist before he could retreat. A playful glare had her releasing him instantly. Still, Garcia looked up at him, eyes twinkling, “He’s precious.”

Aaron sighed, rubbing his temple. “Did you find anything that would suggest he’s dangerous?”

Garcia grinned. “Only to your heart, sir.”

Hotch turned on his heel and left.

Garcia called after him, sing-song, “So, are you going to call him or what?”

Aaron was not going to dignify that with a response. He had just made it to the door when Garcia made more excited yelps and beckoned him back.

“Oh, oh, wait, wait, sir, come back!”

With a sigh, he turned, “Hmm?”

Garcia spun one of the monitors toward him, biting back a grin, “So, uh. You remember when he mentioned a wedding?”

Aaron frowned, “Yes?”

“It’s real,” She clicked on a recent post. It was a screenshot of a text conversation:

Garcia wheezed, “Sir, you are his manifested date.”

Hotch stared at the screen, resisting the urge to chuckle at his ridiculous antics. It was good to know he was actually that awkward online, too.

“…I see. To be fair, he did give me a choice.”

Garcia tilted her head, watching him carefully. “Perfect, you could just text him and say you’re not going. Or—” Her smile turned devious. “You could meet up and—you know—practice before the real thing.”

Aaron gave her a deadpan look.

She beamed.

Without a word, Aaron turned and walked out but sighed, stopping the door from shutting all the way with his hand. He poked his head back in, “Thanks, Penelope.”

MC POV

I honestly, didn’t expect Aaron to text me. It had been about a week since I ran into him. Throughout that time, I hadn’t seen him out and about any other morning. So, I couldn’t tell if he’d been avoiding me, we were completely missing each other, or he was just busy.

I chose to believe he was busy because boy would I not mind seeing him and those perfect hands again.

My thoughts were put at ease when I got a text ten days after I ran into him, smack on a Saturday morning.

I had no idea what to reply as I stared at my phone with a puppy chewing on my sweater sleeves. 

“Mochi, no,” I absentmindedly corrected her. “Daddy needs to think.”

While I thought about a response, I saved his contact to my phone under “Aaron (Mom's Fav)”.

I could practically feel his exasperation through the phone. But I did hope he thought I was somewhat funny, too.

My heart felt like it was ready to jump out of my throat as I read his text. Tonight? Like TONIGHT?

“Mochi, come here, baby. I need support,” I dragged the over-excited puppy into my lap and hugged her to my lap with one hand while the other held my phone. 

What do I even say to that? Deflecting with humor sounded like a safe bet.

Aaron’s address was sent shortly after and I wasn't surprised to see that it was only a couple blocks north of mine in the direction he ran the day we met. I threw my head back on my couch, giddy to see Aaron again. My brain finally caught up with what that meant. I was going to be alone with the man, with only Mochi as a chaperone and she couldn’t care less about who I embarrassed myself in front of. I had nothing to hide behind, no buffer, no screen, no over-excited mother to parry off of. 

Fuck. Why was I like this?

Then I realized I had a lot of work to do and leaped off the couch to make him a study guide. I had pictures of the important people: my parents, siblings, bride and groom, and some assorted aunts and uncles. I wouldn't subject him to memorizing the kids because—let's be honest—they didn't care about the old folks anyway. It wasn’t too long of a list, only about three pages that I printed out to make it easy for him.

Once I had that sorted, I thought about what to bring. Can you go wrong with brownies? Actually...I’m sure you could, but it was the most practiced thing I knew how to make without messing up considering the state of my head.

The time snuck up on me quickly and I frantically took the brownies out of the oven to cool before running to my room to get ready with Mochi hot on my heels. She guarded the shower, attacking my towels and shower mat as I hurriedly washed myself. Doing my best to not trip over her and slip on the slick floor—medical emergencies were not ideal right now—I ran back to my room to towel off and get dressed.

“Ok, little girl, what color are we feeling today?” 

I laid out a couple different collars for her, which she hopped excitedly around and chose one to attack. Lilac it was. 

“Should we match?” she gave me a beady-eyed stare, focused only on gaining possession of the collar again. “You don’t give two shits.”

I fastened the collar around her neck and tugged a matching sweater over her, taking the time to gush over how adorable she looked.

I surprisingly found a passable first-date shirt that sort of matched her and finished getting ready. In my haste, I nearly forgot the small tray of brownies as I fed Mochi and packed a couple of toys to distract her. Nearly screaming, I covered the tray and put it by the door with the other stuff so I wouldn't forget.

I was a wreck the entire drive to Aaron’s. For no reason, too. As much as I teased him, he was right. 

This wasn’t a date. But, he was hot and I was me.

I located his apartment with relative ease and waited nervously outside with an impatient puppy at my side and a glass tray under my arm digging into my ribs. His cheat sheet lay balanced atop the foil. Making a nervous whine in the back of my throat, I finally knocked with my free hand that held Mochi’s leash.

The door swung open, Aaron on the other side with a dish towel over his shoulder in a dark polo. I stared at the skin past the unbuttoned top buttons, completely missing whatever he said to me.

“—need help?” I caught at the end of his sentence.

“Oh, uh, yea sort of,” I winced as I shifted the tray, which he gladly took from me, noticing the paper on top as he ushered me inside and shut the door behind me. 

“You can let her off, it’s fine. I closed all the doors already,” he nodded to where Mochi was eagerly wanting to sniff every surface she could reach.

Wow, he’s perfect.

I unclipped her leash, laughing at the way she made a beeline for Aaron’s jeans, nipping at the material before skittering over to his sofa. I tossed the toys I brought with me to the floor, so she would leave his belongings alone.

“This is...a good look on you,” I smiled nervously, taking in the domesticity of his clothes. My bravado over text completely flew out the window.

“Mm, I was married once upon a time,” He smirked, turning back to the stove.

“Was?”

“Yea, we found out I was married to my work more.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Aaron just shrugged, “It was a long time ago.”

I chewed my lip, desperate to change the topic. My eyes landed on the papers I brough with me.

“Oh! I brought this so we could go over my family.”

I picked up the papers and met him near the stove, leaning against the counter where there was free space he wasn't utilizing. He smiled softly in my direction as he cooked, nodding and stirring.

“Go for it,” he nodded.

I was surprised he wanted to start now while he was busy cooking but went ahead anyway. I would show him the picture, tell him their name and relation, and move on. He listened diligently, repeating names and making sure they were pronounced correctly before moving on. His eyes moved over the pictures like they were calculating and cataloging every little detail of their faces.  He would lean in for a closer look at the pictures, standing much closer and making me stumble over my words. My face would feel like it was on fire.

Aaron didn’t comment on it.

He was weirdly good at it, remembering faces and recalling details from short-term memory.

I wanted to ask how but didn’t want to intrude more than he was allowing me. My big mouth couldn’t be stopped, though. 

“Wh—,” I started, my voice hitching when he moved into my space and grabbed something on the other side of me. His arm wrapped around me, chest scraping mine as he looked at me expectantly to keep talking. “—wh—uhm…hmm,” I raised my eyebrows, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly under his gaze.

He sighed with an amused smile, “You can’t act like this every time I touch you at the wedding, boyfriend.”

I cleared my throat, blinking rapidly, “Act like what?”

Aaron shook his head, adding the item he grabbed and stirring briefly. He gave me a pointed look, “You freeze up and stutter.”

“I do not.”

“You do. You just did.”

Aaron set his large spoon down and crowded my space, “If you’re nervous about being close to me, then you need to get used it.” His hands framed my hips on the counter behind me, “Touch me.”

I nearly choked on my own saliva.

“I—I’m sorry?”

Aaron was unfazed, “If we’re going to sell this, you can’t tense up and shy away every time I stand next to you. So, touch me. Now.”

I stared at him, his brown eyes boring into mine with long lashes framing them. 

He’s so pretty.

I raised my hand up and pressed a finger to his chest. His very firm, very nice chest that stretched the fabric of his polo.

“Not like that,” he sighed, taking my wrist and guiding my hand more firmly to his chest.

Oh.

Brain.exe has stopped working.

I swallowed, pressing my palm more confidently against him and looking just past his head. Aaron tilted his head, purposely catching my gaze again. Picking up my free hand, I rested it on his bicep, where his shirt met his skin. 

“So—uh,” I tried to think at the same time, gently squeezing the muscle and sliding my hand around to the back of his arm. “You have a really good memory.”

“Mhm.”

“Where do you work?” I finally asked.

“For the DOJ,” he answered automatically.

“Got it, top secret,” I laughed.

He dropped his head sheepishly, “Sorry. It’s kind of an automatic answer for people I just met.” 

He lifted his head up, smiling and moving a hand to my lower back. I fought the jump that threatened to move my body and lost, tensing just a little.

“I work for the FBI,” he finished.

“That makes so much more sense,” I laughed, sliding my hand up from his chest to his shoulder.

I licked my lip as his head tilted away from my hand. 

An invitation.

Slowly, my hand made its way to his neck. His eyes fluttered shut as my fingers slipped around the back of his neck while my thumb brushed just below his ear.

“Good,” he hummed with his eyes still closed, helping my confidence just enough since I was no longer under his watchful gaze.

“This is so stupid, why am I nervous? I literally kissed your face on a whim in front of my mother.”

Aaron shrugged, “You tell me.”

Frankly, I did know. I was legitimately attracted to him beyond this whole fake dating bullshit.

He still stared, expecting an answer.

“Oh, you want me to say it out loud?”

“Yea.”

“Well, I—”

“Look at me.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

Looking directly at him, I continued, “I think I’m just actually attracted to you and all of my confidence over text goes out the window when that happens. I don’t have anything to hide behind, you know?”

“Mm,” he hummed. “Would be hard to sell if we didn’t find each other attractive.”

Wait. 

We?

Aaron leaned forward.

I held my breath.

His lips touched my cheek, pressing a soft kiss there before straightening up and going back to the food before it burned.

My cheek was on fire.

He found me attractive, too?

Dinner was a little easier, reviewing my family again to make sure things were sticking with him. Mochi had come over at some point to chew on my shoelaces as we talked. Aaron picked her up, having finished his food first, and let her chew on his arm with her little dagger teeth. As soon as I finished, I grabbed his plate and took it to the sink—which he protested.

“You’re babysitting, it’s the least I can do,” I slapped his hand away.

Aaron kept me company instead, leaning against the counter with Mochi in his arms. We diligently went over our backstory, how we met, our first date, etcetera—knowing full well that my mother would ask every single question she could think of. Whether it was meant to be private or public.

Mochi eventually wiggled out of his grasp, running over to one of her toys, snagging it, and doing laps around the couch.

Aaron smiled as he watched her, then turned to take the wet dishes from my hands to dry them. My fingers tingled as his own fingers brushed mine, but I kept my cool and he noticed with a proud nod. 

“See? You’re doing better already.”

I roll my eyes, watching him push off the counter to put the dishes away. I turned the water off, busy drying my hands when I felt two hands come to my hips with Aaron’s breath against my shoulder. His body heat was plastered against my back. I was proud of myself for not tensing up, instead waiting for him to do something while I placed my damp hands over his as his hands met at the front of my hips.

“I’m assuming you know how to dance?” He murmured.

“Yes, I know how to dance at a wedding. I know you’re out of practice and all but this is not how you do that,” I laughed.

“Just making sure you wouldn’t jump,” he muttered, his nose brushing the shell of my ear and his lips skimming the back of my neck.

“I’ve calmed down a little, okay?” I rolled my eyes, turning to face him.

I gripped his upper arms, his arms still wrapped around me, and slid them up his shoulders until they could meet around his neck.

“Can I try something?” I asked.

He seemed to already know, eyes half-lidded and already staring at my mouth, “Go ahead."

I leaned in, pressing my lips to his gently, separating only to come back and press a little harder. Aaron’s hips closed the gap between us, arms pulling me close at the same time.

This had to be heaven.

My hand cupped the back of his head, eagerly bringing him down as my lips parted. The tip of his tongue flicked out at my bottom lip, nearly making me whine in the back of my throat. The friction of our pants did not help in that department.

I pulled back; the kiss having been much briefer than it felt. Aaron’s mouth chased mine, barely able to mutter, “Again,” before his tongue was licking my mouth open.

A moan ripped from my throat as his tongue skimmed the hypersensitive skin of the roof of my mouth. The shiver I fought made me grip him tighter and I had a vague thought about how far he was willing to take this as I felt the unmistakable brush of his hardness against mine. I pulled back, letting my hands drop to his chest to create some space.

His lips were swollen, eyes a little dark, but he was otherwise annoyingly calm. I was flustered, the line between real and fake being blurred so intensely in that moment.

“This might be a problem.”

He didn’t have to look down to know exactly what we both felt, “Only if you make it one.”

I shook my head, smacking his arm and squeezing myself out from between him and counter, “You’re insufferable.”

“You kissed me first,” he followed, stopping to grab two brownies out from the covered tray.

He followed me further down the counter, handing me one of the brownies and watching me with a vaguely amused look. I took a bite just to give myself something to do, staring at the floor and murmuring my thanks.

We just made out. We barely know each other. This is insane.

“You’ve been giving me an out this entire time but It looks like you might need one,” he took a slow bite of his own, clearly in no rush. “You’re thinking too hard about this.”

“You just kissed me stupid, give me a second.”

“You still kissed me first.”

“Are you seriously not letting that go?”

“No.”

He was so fucking smug. I hated and loved it at the same time. It made me want to kiss him again. I shoved the last of the brownie in my mouth, finally meeting his eyes and swallowing thickly.

“So, at the wedding, we’re not kissing like that.”

“Obviously, unless you plan on scarring your family,” he exhaled, sounding like a laugh. He crowded my space again, my brain going into overdrive at his heat and smell. “You specified ‘at the wedding’, which I find interesting.”

Aaron’s eyes flicked down to my mouth, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to my chocolate-flavored lips, then another, and another before pulling back. My eyes were still closed as he spoke, relishing the contrast of his gentle movements versus the intensity of before.

“We act normal. Just like that,” he smiled, grabbing another brownie and bringing it to my mouth.

“You’re way too chill about this,” I scoffed but took it from his hands.

“It’s more fun than I expected,” he shrugged. “Plus...I did mean it.”

I tilted my head questioningly.

“About the attraction. I was cautious of course last week because of my job, but I don’t know. After making sure you weren't a threat…I—” He paused, trying to figure out his next words, “You’re unfortunately magnetic.”

“So, what you’re saying is that my incessant text flirting worked?”

“Only a little,” he joked. “The cowboy outfit was the kicker for me.”

“Oh my God, stop!” I covered my face.

“What I’m saying is,” he laughed, prying my hands away from my face, “if you’re amenable of course—that maybe it doesn't have to be entirely fake.”

I feigned thinking, squinting one eye in thought, “So, this was a first date?”

“I think it was about three dates wrapped in one,” he pursed his lips.

“Well, I don’t put out on the third date, so it might be my time to leave,” I teased.

He just grinned, swooping in and claiming my lips. I decided then that the brownies tasted much better with him.  I kissed him as fervently as I needed air to breathe, gasping as his hips ground softly into mine purposely. 

It felt so good.

So good that by the fourth time it happened, I had to remove myself from him, “I was—mm—I was serious about the third date thing—as-as eager as I might be.”

Aaron nodded in understanding, chest heaving.

“And if you were serious before, I just-I just want to make sure, you know? If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” he smiled down at me, his reddened lips still so inviting but I needed to go before my resolve crashed and burned.

“I should go before it gets out of hand,” I smiled sadly, “but study up and keep those,” I pointed at the brownies. “Take them to work or something.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he cringed a little as he glanced down at the unruly bulge in his jeans. “You’re definitely not freaking out anymore,” he pointed out smugly.

I made some kind of noise. A flustered scoff? Panicked laugh? A dignified, manly squeak? I didn't know but I did know that if I stayed here any longer, we were either ending up in bed or I was leaving with soiled pants.

“Shut up,” I murmured, a smirk playing at my lips. “Mochi, it’s time to go home!” I called the puppy, leaning over and seeing her curled up on top of an afghan thrown over Aaron’s couch. 

I clapped my hands together, her ears perking up as she stretched. Aaron didn't try to stop me as I gathered my belongings, just leaning back against the counter looking completely satisfied with himself. He met me at the door, opening it as I carried the sleepy puppy.

“Drive safe,” he said casually, voice warm and comforting. Before I could walk out completely, his fingers pinched the center of my shirt, guiding me backwards and pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. Then obnoxiously, “See you soon, boyfriend.”

“Good night, sweetheart,” I sassed back, running my shoulder straight into the doorframe on my way out.

-

Luckily, they had the shirt in his size and it came in a couple days before the wedding.

I rushed up to his apartment door, fully dressed for the wedding with the pink shirt in hand. The wedding wasn't far from here and it was still an hour before we needed to be there. I knocked frantically on the door, met with a still damp Aaron from the shower. 

"Oh, I could get used to that sight," I commented appreciatively, looking at his bare chest and taking my sunglasses off. 

"Are you sure it wasn't too much?" he asked about the shirt

"Hush, go get ready," I pushed him away by the chest.

He took advantage, tugging my arm to him so I would stumble forward into him. His hands grasped my hips immediately, lips finding mine easily in all the movement. 

"Aaron," I murmured trying to get him moving. "You're wet."

"Mhm," he smiled into the kiss. “Just getting some practice in before showtime.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

He finally let me go and took the shirt, shaking it out and nodding as he felt the material between his fingers.

When he came out of the room fully dressed, my jaw was on the floor looking at his form in a fitted navy suit. We were fucking matching.

"You are feeding my mother, I swear," I laughed. "We look like we're about to take engagement photos."

A satisfied smirk stretched over his face at my admiration. He strode forward but stopped short.

"Where's Mochi?" He frowned.

"Oh, she would cause mayhem. My neighbor is watching her."

"You trust your neighbor with her?"

"You're so perfect," I gushed, wanting to squeeze his face. Cute aggression, I swear. "Out the door, please," I waved him toward the front door.

I didn't know how I convinced him to let me drive, but he luckily backed off as soon as I started ranting about his alpha male need to control everything and that he probably took over driving everywhere at work.

"Just be a good little passenger princess," I settled my hand on his thigh as I took off.

"I don't always drive," he muttered under his breath.

"Somehow, I severely doubt that."

The country club was a short drive, allowing us to arrive fifteen minutes early before the actual wedding ceremony was due to start. We entered the country club, following the signs for the wedding outside. The reception would follow indoors. Several signs along the way instructed guests to turn their phones off, which Aaron hesitated to do.

"Just put it on silent or vibrate. They don't want all the aunties' phones in the photographers shots," I touched his wrist, seeing him contemplate. "If you're on call just do vibrate."

"I'm not technically, I just don't want to miss a call if they do. It's a little unpredictable."

"Whatever you do, do it fast," I wound my arm around his as I spotted my mother among my family.

I heard Aaron clear his throat and shove his phone in his pocket, plastering an award winning smile on his face. 

“Oh, sweetie, you're here!” My mother ran up to me, nearly stumbling in her heels.

“Woah, careful,” I lunged, holding my hands out to catch her but Aaron was faster, grabbing her hands and stopping her forward momentum.

“Aaron, honey, how sweet are you?” she gushed, holding onto his forearms. “It's so nice to finally meet you.”

Aaron and I were dragged around to my family and he—unsurprisingly—remembered all of the information I had fed him. Throughout the ceremony, Aaron had his arm wrapped around me, hand resting on my lower back. It was strange being here with someone after expecting to be here by myself, but as I leaned my head on his shoulder I was glad it was Aaron I picked off the street. He caught me looking at him, giving me a soft smile and kissing my temple.

The ceremony was blissfully short as the afternoon sun started to heat up. I just about dragged Aaron inside after, eager to not sweat through this light-colored shirt. 

The reception started off without a hitch. Aaron offered to drive while I had a few drinks—who was I to decline such an offer—and dancing commenced while we waited for the food.

Aaron begrudgingly danced with my mother—only to slow ones per his request—but he kept his awkwardness at being interrogated hidden well. When it was my turn to dance with my fake boyfriend, I did so happily, not one to complain about being close to Aaron. 

Aaron’s hand was warm on my lower back as we swayed to the music. His thumb brushed small, lazy circles along my spine, and I was very much not immune to it.

"You're suspiciously quiet," I teased, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. "Having fun?"

"Something like that," he said, lips twitching in amusement.

"You're thinking about work, aren’t you?"

"No," he replied, then smirked. "I'm thinking about the conversation I just had with your mother."

I groaned, "Oh God. Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," Aaron said, but the glint of humor in his eyes gave him away.

I gave his shoulder a light, playful shove. "Tell me."

He hummed, swaying us slightly to the left as another couple passed by. unable to resist, he pressed a quick kiss to my lips and continued speaking, "She asked when we were having kids."

I almost tripped over my own feet. My hand tightened on his bicep as I choked out, "She asked you what?"

"When we were having kids," he repeated, perfectly calm.

My mouth opened and closed, my brain short-circuiting. I finally sputtered out a laugh, "Jesus Christ, she didn't even ease into it?"

"Not even a little," he confirmed.

I tipped my head back with a groan, "Okay, well, the real question is—which one of us is gonna carry the baby to term?"

His lips twitched. "Hmm. Probably you."

"Excuse me?" I gave his shoulder a scandalized smack. "Why me?"

"You've got the instincts for it," Aaron said, voice low and teasing.

I blinked. My jaw dropped, "Did you just insinuate that I'm Mochi's mother? Because she knows damn well I'm her daddy."

Aaron’s shoulders shook with restrained laughter, "I'm just saying. You hover. You told me you checked her paws for three days straight when she yelped after stepping on a leaf."

"That’s called responsible pet ownership, Aaron. She’s just a baby."

"Mhm,” His thumb traced another slow circle against my back, and I absolutely did not shiver. 

Nope, not at all.

We were both grinning like idiots when my mom passed by again, shooting us a look that said: You’re next.

Aaron leaned closer, voice low in my ear, "She seemed pretty convinced we're soulmates."

"Oh God. We are never gonna live this down."

"Probably not," he agreed.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"I really am," he murmured, then kissed my temple.

I rested my forehead on his chest, laughing so hard I almost missed his hand tightening just slightly on my waist.

It was inevitable that I would have to run to the bathroom after several alcoholic beverages. I swayed slightly as I washed my hands, grinning at my own reflection. My face was warm, appearance slightly disheveled from dancing with Aaron, and my smile wouldn't go away—not that I wanted it to. I’d spent the better part of the afternoon glued to Aaron’s side while my family peppered him with questions. He’d taken it like a champ, even dancing with some of my aunts before my mother would steal him back, all while keeping his arm casually draped around me like we’d done this a million times.

Honestly, he was too good at this. I was beginning to suspect he actually enjoyed the chaos. 

As I stepped back into the reception hall, the music thumped under my feet, mingling with the sound of clinking glasses and laughter. I scanned the crowd for Aaron’s broad shoulders, but before I could find him, my mom’s voice sliced through the noise.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you taking my son’s boyfriend?"

My heart just about stopped, what the fuck?

I turned toward the commotion and froze. Across the room, Aaron stood stiffly near the entrance with a vaguely exasperated expression, one I saw a handful of times on our date. My mother had one hand on her hip, the other gesturing toward a very well-dressed group of strangers attempting to pull Aaron toward the door.

"Ma'am," the oldest of the group spoke to my mother, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I assure you, we come in peace."

"You're not answering the question," my mom snapped.

Oh, mom. 

"He’s my ex," the man blurted out without missing a beat. His voice dropped into something heavier, "And I’ve come to win him back."

The entire room went silent. I swore someone actually gasped.

Aaron’s jaw twitched as his eyes found mine across the room. He looked annoyed, amused, and frustrated all at the same time.

"Your...ex?" my mom repeated, voice pitched with disbelief.

The man sighed, bowing his head like he was carrying the weight of an old, familiar pain. 

"Yes. We were once...so much more," He lifted his eyes to the ceiling with a wistful expression, voice trembling just enough to sound authentic. "I gave him my heart, but he belonged to the world. And now, seeing him here..." He placed a hand over his chest. "It's like I’ve been wandering through a desert of loneliness only to find an oasis I no longer deserve."

Someone near me whispered, "That’s so beautiful."

My mom’s jaw slackened. "I...I don’t know what to say."

He continued, "Sometimes, the greatest act of love is letting go." He cast a mournful glance toward Aaron, "Even if it means watching the only man who ever understood me walk away with someone else." 

A sniffle echoed from the corner. I glanced over and saw my cousin Vanessa—the bride—dabbing her eyes with a cocktail napkin.

I nearly fell over at the absurdity of it all.

"And these people?" my mom asked, voice cracking slightly as she gestured to the rest of the group.

The youngest man in the group awkwardly rose his hand, "We're, um..."

“We were in an polyamorous relationship—with Aaron,” a dark-haired woman spoke up. 

A fit man with a shadow of a beard—damn he was hot, too—hid a laugh behind his hand while hiding his face behind the dark-haired woman. 

My mother did not look impressed.

Meanwhile, Aaron stood there like a hostage, shoulders rigid and lips pressed into a thin line. I knew that look—he wore it when I ambushed him on the street—his I am using every ounce of my patience right now face.

I made my way toward the group just as my mom turned back to the older man.

"Listen here, buddy," she snapped, poking him in the chest. "I don’t care how much you still love him. He’s here with my son, and you’re not going to ruin this by dragging him off for some last-ditch romantic gesture."

Rossi gave her a deeply sympathetic look, "I—we just want to beg for another chance, ma'am."

The crowd melted.

Someone whispered, "That’s love."

Another person sobbed openly into their champagne flute.

By the time I reached Aaron's side, the tension had shifted. My mom was still skeptical, but several of my cousins were openly swooning at the spectacle.

I gave the crowd a tense smile as I approached, resting my hand on Aaron's upper arm and leaning in to his ear and whispering, “What the fuck is going on?”

The older man gave me a nod, lowering his voice, "We hate to break up the party, kid, but we need Aaron. Urgent case."

"Right," I said, suddenly more sober. He was needed, I could text him later.

The team ushered Aaron through the door to the sound of faint applause from the wedding guests.

I stood there, shaking my head at what the hell just transpired.

My mother actually wiped her eyes and sighed, "I'm so sorry, honey, I tried to stop them. I didn't realize he had so many partners before you.”

“Mom, those were his coworkers picking him up for an urgent issue.”

"Oh, sweetie," she said, patting my cheek. "You just don’t understand modern relationships. 

Later that night I was sprawled over my couch, my mother having driven me home as I had a few more drinks to make up for Aaron’s absence. My guest room was prepared ahead of time, thankfully. 

I groaned, loosening my belt lazily, still in my suit. I had gotten Mochi from my neighbor, needing my baby to ease the sing of Aaron’s depsrture. She lay across my lap, belly-up and snoring. My mom sat in my recliner, a glass of wine in hand now that she could decompress from the wedding.

“It was such a beautiful day,” she mused. “Until Aaron didn’t come back after that discussion with his exes,” she grumbled.

“Mom…” I groaned into a pillow. “Mom, they’re not his exes, they’re his team at work. They were messing with you.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, not sounding the slightest bit convinced.

The TV hummed in the background, low enough for us to ignore until I heard a familiar voice break through our conversation.

“…we were able to quickly apprehend the suspect and bring an end to these tragic events."

My mom gasped, leaning forward, "Oh, honey! Isn't that Aaron?"

I sat up so fast Mochi nearly flopped off my lap, and sure enough—there he was on the news, standing in front of a sheriff’s station with a microphone in his face. Same pink shirt. Same navy suit. Same faintly irritated expression.

"I told you he was working," I muttered, running a hand down my face. “All of a sudden you love him again,” I rolled my eyes.

"—ultimately, the case was resolved after it was determined that the suspect was, in fact, the sheriff," Aaron said, voice monotone and precise. "He left his own boot prints at three of the crime scenes and, when confronted, confessed almost immediately."

There was an awkward pause as reporters scribbled notes.

"Wait," one asked, "so it...was just the sheriff the whole time?"

"Yes," Aaron said.

"And he...admitted it right away?"

"Yes," Aaron repeated, slower this time. His jaw twitched in annoyance.

"So," the reporter pressed, "you flew in from Quantico...for that?"

The muscle in Aaron’s jaw jumped again, "Yes."

I barked out a laugh.

The camera zoomed out as Aaron stepped away from the microphones. His team followed closely behind, the blonde agent talking with the older agent animatedly. The last shot before the feed was cut off was Aaron rubbing his temples.

I shook my head and stood, scooping Mochi up under one arm, "I'm going to bed."

"Tell Aaron I said ‘hi’ next time you talk to him!"

"Mm-hmm." I carried Mochi toward my bedroom, but halfway there, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I smiled, tucking my phone away again and held Mochi tighter. 

I called back down the hallway, “Aaron says ‘hi’.”

“What a sweetheart. I really do like him, honey,” she called back.

“Yeah, me, too, Mom.”

[crimeronan]

Oh, the great maker of trauma for the beans that are part of Princess Luz Au, heed my query and answer me:

Did Luz get any big bad evil guy energy or skill from being raised by the waste of space previously known as Belos?

I mean as we all know Luz is a precious bean, but I think she deserves to be a little evil towards bad people, like I assume that Hunter is already planning how to murder (or worse) Amity's parents, even if he isn't fully aware of it/is in denial that he is planning the horrors on the for making Amity, but I stay with me for a moment and imagine the verified cinnamon roll Luz Noceda Wittebane putting the fear of Titan into Odalia after learning that she abused Amity.

Also, her snapping out of it after Odalia faints out of fear (and pain), and panicking that she is just like below only for her parteners to be like, 'nooo~ it was hot normal and perfectly sane thing to do'.

this answer Might be disappointing in some ways, mainly: i don't Think luz would be physically violent with them without provocation, and i also don't think she's likely to lose emotional control around them. she'd want to be just as poised around amity's parents as she always was around belos and always is around the coven heads.

HOWEVER. as for the questions of "does luz know how to be scary" and "did she learn that from belos": UNEQUIVOCAL yes. to both.

i've been wanting to play with luz in this space with amity's parents for A While, actually, so. have a little fic :)

-

"Oh, Amity is my pride and joy," Odalia says, placing a hand over her heart. "I taught her everything she knows."

"Yes, I did get that impression." The Empress smiles, rising to her feet. "It's incredible how much she's accomplished in spite of you."

Odalia's breath catches around a shocked, bitten-down laugh. "Your Majesty, begging your pardon, I believe you meant 'because of-'"

"In spite of," Luz repeats, very firmly. "It's fortunate that Lilith Clawthorne has taken such an interest in her wellbeing."

Odalia's smile doesn't waver, but it does remain frozen for several seconds before she says, "I suppose Amity feels the need to invent an adversary. Some great trial she overcame to earn her place here. It's understandable. Children often lack the foundation to understand the sacrifices their parents make. She had a very privileged upbringing."

"Amity has never spoken unkindly of either of you," Luz says, although this she seems to mean more for Alador, whose face may give more away.

She steps lightly down the stairs from the throne, joining the pair of them on the ground. "Amity rarely speaks of either of you at all, actually. That isn't why I've called you here."

Odalia's voice turns cool, corporate. "Then how can we help you, Your Majesty?"

"Did you know that Blight Industries has a higher rate of workplace accidents than..." Luz slides a folder out of her tunic, flips it open, and raises her eyebrows. "...any other company on the Isles?"

This time, Odalia's laugh covers something else. "That's - that's preposterous. Our workplace safety records are excellent. Why, we haven't needed a single intervention by the Healing Coven in... oh, is it three years?" She taps the side of her mouth, frowning. "Four? Five?"

"That's fascinating," Luz says. "Not even for a scrape?"

"Abrasions heal quite well by themselves, given time."

"Absolutely fascinating," Luz repeats. "Did you know that it's illegal to purposefully deny people healing services?"

Odalia scoffs, incredulous. "For scrapes?"

"I know," Luz says pleasantly, "I was surprised, too. There are a lot of laws like that, it turns out. Text on paper that hasn't been enforced in half a century. From what I understand, this one is a holdover from early Empire anxieties. People were terribly worried about not having access to personal healing magic anymore. So healing services had to be protected."

Odalia's smile has become more teeth than pleasantry. "What a fun little history lesson. I'm sure you know all sorts of facts about the early Empire."

"It turns out that it's very easy to put laws in writing," Luz says, "without the intention to enforce them. My father, may the Titan bless him, had precious little interest in the rights of individuals to be seen by healers. But this isn't his Empire anymore. And I find the topic just captivating."

Odalia has stopped trying to hide her impatience, now. "So you'll fine us for not having healers on hand to wave away every little paper cut. That's fine. I apologize for the oversight. We'll settle up and make sure that going forward-"

"Mr. Blight," Luz says, ignoring Odalia entirely, "would you kindly remove your gloves for me?"

Alador startles.

Odalia doesn't glance at him. Her eyes are fixed unblinking on Luz. She speaks through her teeth, nearly a hiss. "Don't feel compelled to do that, dear."

"I assure you, I can compel him to do that," Luz says. Then, in a tone that would almost pass for apologetic if it wasn't so practiced, "I am sorry to compel it of you. I try not to compel my subjects very often. But if you find it difficult to remove your gloves, my scouts would be happy to assist you."

The scouts around the base of the throne don't move. Odalia's eyes slide uneasily over them anyway.

"That won't be necessary," Alador says, speaking for the first time. He pulls the gloves off without fanfare, holding up his hands.

Half of his left ring finger and pinky are conspicuously missing.

If Luz is uncomfortable with this revelation, she sure isn't showing it. "Oh, that's so interesting," she says, leaning forward to get a closer look. "The Healing Coven keeps meticulous records, and I'm certain a partial amputation was never reported to them. You were born with all five fingers, yes? I'm sure Amity will attest to that."

"This was from an accident in my personal lab," Alador says, with the mechanical precision of something rehearsed. "The severed digits were not... salvageable."

"It's so amazing that you were able to make that determination," Luz says, "without even needing to consult the Healing Coven. You must be a very proficient magician."

Alador blinks.

"Regardless," Odalia interrupts, "it happened outside of Blight Industries. The company isn't liable. You haven't 'gotten' us."

"Do you ever test Blight Industries products in your personal lab, Mr. Blight?"

"Prototypes," he says.

Odalia makes a sharp, exasperated gesture. "Alador!"

"That seems like company business to me," Luz says, still pleasant, still conversational. "Now, I will be fully transparent, before you accuse me of anything with regards to prejudice - it is true that I hate you both. It is true that I've hated you both for a while now. If you feel like I'm targeting you because I hate you, then you're very astute."

Odalia's fingers twitch, threatening to curl into fists.

Luz continues, "However, it's also true that there is no bias where my judgment is concerned. Not legally, anyway. So it doesn't matter whether I hate you or not. Whatever I decide to do with you is the Titan's will. Government is amazing."

Odalia exhales sharply.

When Luz doesn't waver, she shakes her head. For the first time, her voice cracks - properly cracks. There's a tiny tremble in her hands.

"Amity won't forgive you if anything happens to us," she says - but there's no bravado, no power, only pathetic uncertainty. "Regardless of any... petty grievances she may harbor. Family is everything to a Blight. She won't forgive this."

"I know that," Luz says. "I promise, I have no intention of doing Amity any unkindness. It's not her fault you two have chosen to be what you are."

Another sharp exhale. Odalia's breathing is ragged, audible. She's clearly not a woman accustomed to fearing for her own safety.

"That's fantastic news!" she chirps.

Luz's smile is beatific, magnanimous. The serene expression of someone who's never questioned the divine right of kings.

"Unfortunately, I'm not wholly opposed to doing an unkindness," she says, "if we can't seem to reach an agreement. It's really up to you how this goes."

She looks from Odalia to Alador and back, tilting her head.

"So. How badly do both of you want to live?"

[ambrosiagourmet]

I want to talk about why I think this is the one of the most important Falin panels:

So, Falin is really nice, right? It's one of the first things we really learn about her. She's kind even to the monsters of the dungeon - choosing to ward the party rather than fight spirits and cause them needless harm.

In the above early flashback in chapter 11, we see Marcille fawning over Falin's kindness, calling her an angel. Namari calls her soft-hearted. We see Falin choose not to fight even when a zombie attacks - instead she resolves the confrontation with a hug. After the flashback, the first thing Senshi says is that Falin "sounds like quite the person," which Marcille strongly affirms.

At this point in the story, all we have seen of Falin are these impressions; she is a healer, an angel, a caretaker with an infinite well of kindness towards everyone she meets - both friend and foe.

And honestly, that remains most of what we have to go by to understand her. The only times we get to see Falin on the page, alive and just herself, are in the opening and closing pages of the story and in the brief period of time after she is resurrected.

Nonetheless, we do have some more details to work with. For one, there is the scene that The Panel is from - a short memory in chapter 75, when Marcille flashes back to while she's dying. In that scene, Falin prepares to teleport them all out, and says that she's sorry "if there is a person at [their] destination." And that's when we get The Panel.

If you teleport someone or something into another person, the person teleported into is likely to be, at minimum, severely injured. They could die.

We can see a lovely little horrifying example of exactly why in one of the Daydream Hour doodles:

So, hmm. That's not... that's not SUPER nice. Certainly not displaying the same "kindness to all, friend and foe included" we saw represented earlier. On a basic level, this adds some nuance to Falin's kindness. We see it break a little, when pushed to the limit. We see her chose to protect the people she loves above all else.

Which makes sense! As Laios says when the Winged Lion accuses him of similarly being motivated more by his friends' safety than everyone else in the dungeon, "...most people, aside from virtuous do-gooders, would feel the same way."

So, we can take The Panel as simply showing a moment of weakness for Falin. A time when she was pushed to her limits, and that "most people" selfish side of her shone through.

However... I think there's a little more going on with Falin than just her being an angel 99% of the time, except just that once. I love The Panel because I think it helps us understand that Falin isn't just motivated by kindness - she also has a desire to avoid seeing people in pain.

Isn't that the same thing?

No, no it very much is not.

Let's look at a short comic from the Falin section of the Adventurer's Bible, because I think it illustrates this point perfectly. The group is complaining about how much Marcille's healing hurts, and comparing it to Falin's, which "doesn't hurt a bit." Marcille retorts with the following:

Now, the punchline of this comic is that, despite Marcille's sentimental assertion that she's "thinking of [them]" by letting her healing magic hurt, they all still prefer to be healed by Falin.

But hey, this wouldn't be the first time that Dungeon Meshi hides a very real character beat or insight in a gag, so let's think about this somewhat seriously.

If Marcille is right (and she knows a fair bit about magic, so we can assume that she has at least somewhat of a point), then what Falin is doing isn't kind. I suppose if someone specifically requested to not feel the pain, it could be kind, but that's not really what happened here. She is the one who felt badly about the others being in pain, and she is the one who decided, without telling them or giving them a choice in the matter, to take away that pain.

Both Marcille and Falin are healing the party, but Marcille is doing it in a way that accomplishes the task in the most straight forward way, without any additional interference. Falin is going out of her way to perform the healing in a way she is more comfortable with. A way that avoids pain.

Going back the The Panel, I don't think its a coincidence that the only time we see Falin (well, non-chimera Falin) willing to do something that could hurt someone is when any potential pain will be far away from her. If she got someone hurt or killed by teleporting the party to the surface? Not only would it be far out of her sight, but she'd be dead before she had to deal with any consequences of that action.

Falin is not a confrontational person. She doesn't push when Marcille won't tell her the truth about the resurrection, and she comforts Laios about her own death - both of those things happening in the only full chapter she is alive and conscious in the whole story.

We also know that she considered accepting Shuro's proposal, despite not having any special feelings towards him, and that Falin never explained to Marcille that she wanted them to share a meal together. When she brought Marcille various foods at the academy, she just accepted Marcille's confused rejection and gave up.

And lastly, we know that she is still in contact with her parents, despite the neglect and abuse she suffered at their hands. Although the way someone chooses to handle contact with abusive or bad family is a complicated topic, which I don't want to overly simplify, I do I think this fact gets at the heart of how she handles conflict.

So many people that Falin loves have hurt her. There are understandable hurts, like Laios leaving the village, or Marcille not understanding the food. And there are bigger, far less justifiable hurts - like her parents neglecting her throughout her childhood, and sending her away to be alone at the magic academy.

It doesn't seem like Falin has ever confronted any of it directly.

And the unhealthy aspects of this kind of avoidance of pain and confrontation is one of the things that the story of Dungeon Meshi is all about. We see Laios grapple with it before he goes to kill Falin, and we see Marcille acknowledge it at the end of the story, when she tells Laios that she has come to terms with Falin's death:

Eating is a part of life. Consuming other living things is a part of life. It isn't really possible to avoid that pain - you can only hide from the truth of it. You have to be selfish everyday. You have to eat - to choose to live. To choose to take up space.

And this is something Falin embraces, too. She comes back to life, after all.

We see her choose to come back to life.

And how does she make that choice? She eats. She consumes, and then she is asked a question by the manifestation of hunger itself:

Do you want to eat more?

There is a double meaning in the Winged Lion's final words on the next page.

When I first read this, I took it as him saying: life is cruel. You will suffer. You will feel more pain.

But perhaps, especially for Falin, this also means: you are choosing a path where you must cause pain. Where you must consume. Where you must take, and must be selfish. Because eating is the special privilege of the living, and it is their burden, too. In order to stay alive, she will need to keep eating.

And she chooses that. Chooses to be selfish. It's why her resurrection scene is so important, and it's why The Panel is so important. Because Falin coming back isn't the ultimate reward for all of the party's hard work.

It's her choice. Just like it was her choice that started everything in the first place. But this time, she doesn't choose to accept causing pain for the sake of Marcille and Laios. She does it for her own sake.

[noveauskull]

Her Highness And Her Gem [NSFW]

characters: rafayel x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, spoilers for Rafayel's "wander in wonder" card, fingering, oral (f! receiving), reverse cowgirl, doggy style, prone bone, praising (m! receiving), no protection (piv), cocky princess reader, dominant reader, Lemurian Rafayel, porn with P L O T

-----

"What's going on? Why is everyone gathered in her Highness's throne room?"

"Didn't you hear? Messengers from every corner of the land brought these so-called "gifts" for her highness"

"Gifts?"

"It's to alleviate her boredom, apparently..."

You continued to listen to the unnecessary chattering of the maids surrounding the room, holding back from rolling your eyes at how ridiculous the entire situation was.

This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't escaped the palace for the 10th time this month.

It can't be helped. Your boredom was going to kill you before your age did, what's so wrong with wanting to see the outside world once in a while?

You were getting tired of every offer given by other Kingdoms and Empires through men. It was starting to get old by how they all carried good looks but no talent in bed, even a few aphrodisiacs couldn't satisfy you.

You weren't the best princess out there. Rebellious, cruel and salacious. Those were the words often used by others to describe you, most people expect a princess to be on their best behaviour, kind-hearted and pure, but you couldn't care less about such unimportant things.

"Bring them in, quickly" You wasted no time in telling the female messenger, and she nodded before clapping twice as a signal.

As of right now, while your eyes stared into the men walking in the room with attires of different erotic styles, your brain was stuck on finding another way to escape, and where you would visit once you had succeeded.

"Your Highness, have a look. These men are all pleasing to the eye"

Without realizing it, you let out a disappointed and stress-filled sigh. Make the female messenger take it as you are feeling unsatisfied with the line of men in front of you.

You didn't bother clearing up the misunderstanding as you would have preferred them all gone anyway, but then you watched as the female messenger winked at the group. They all suddenly made way for a certain individual.

"Would your highness be open to a handsome Lemurian to stroke the flames of your curiousity?" She said with a proud smile.

Your eyes immediately found a place on the violet-haired man, wearing a gold-adorned outfit that barely did anything to cover his erotic body. The sight was quite a surprise as you never expected to hear the words "Lemurian" along with it.

Without realization, you had a mischievous grin plastered on your face.

Watching how the Lemurian man looked uninterested while maintaining eye contact with you, his hands were tied with thick cuffs to prevent him from trying to escape. Maybe that's why he didn't look too happy.

"Very well, the rest can leave" You waved off the female messenger and her group of men away, signalling the maids to escort them out as you got up from your seat.

You walked down from your throne and stood in front of the Lemurian man, eyeing him closely. His eyes were in a mixed hue of blue, purple and pink, beautiful and unique like how they said Lemurians would be.

Every mole on his face and body was being observed from your lenses, you could tell how nervous he became from having your lecherous gaze on him, you could feel his breath against the top of your head as he avoided making eye contact with you.

Feeling impatient, you used your finger to hook onto the jewellery on his neck, giving him a small tug as you walked him towards your bedroom like you would with a dog on a leash. Surprising him but knowing that following you instead of struggling would do him less trouble.

The entire walk down the corridor towards your room was silent, all you could hear was his bare feet making tiny pitter-patter noises as your heels clicked in a rush, your mind was bent on one thing only this evening.

To tame this Lemurian as your own.

Before you could notice the smirk on your face, you threw the male onto your bed, watching him gasp in shock from the sudden impact, his eyes immediately locking into yours as you had both your hands on the sides of his head, pinning him with nowhere else to look but you.

"I've been waiting for a Lemurian to fall onto my hand for a while now..." You spoke in a hushed voice, laced with a hint of arousal. Whoever put him in this outfit was going to be rewarded handsomely.

"I heard the creatures of the sea possess beautiful voices, won't you entertain me?"

As you asked him the question, you could see him frown before turning his head away from your gaze in an attempt to protest your request. It seems that he was playing hard to get.

"Well, I do like it when they put up a little fight" You let out a wicked laugh, watching his face look nervous once more. Maybe he could tell you were a bit crazy through the look in your eyes.

However, you weren't interested in playing with a toy that wasn't working. So you decided to throw your body down to lie next to the violet-haired male, heaving out a sigh as you stretch your arms. Your actions make the individual beside you flinch and stare at you in confusion.

"If you don't plan on speaking, then you will never be free from this place," You told him, your eyes shut with your arms resting at the back of your head, legs crossed creating a position of an unfeminine and careless manner.

"I was born in this very palace, and I will die here without a single ounce of freedom"

Curious to know if he was listening, you opened your eyes to gaze at him once more, he had already been sat up, facing you with a distrustful look, but still interested in what you had to say.

"If you don't believe me, think about how empty the palace is. How there isn't a single man, and why I need these messengers to find me another man every week" You watched his face soften, and while what you were saying could be true, most of it was to get him to open up to you.

A cruel princess you may be.

You weren't lying when you said you were lonely. But hinting to him that you let the men that came to your chambers off to "save" them was definitely a lie. You just didn't find them entertaining after a week.

"You will be no difference. After a week you can go back to your home, and I will find another man to bring into my chambers"

You switched your position to laying onto your stomach, hand resting under your chin as your other hand went to poke the Lemurian's stomach, tracing his abs.

"...If you agree, speak your name" You didn't bother to look at his face as you had a smile imprinted on your face, finding entertainment in tracing nonexistent patterns on his muscular body.

It took a silence so deep you could hear your own breath, waiting for a reply from the male. But after a few more seconds, you concluded that he just wasn't interested in what you had to offer, so you took your hand off his body, pushing yourself up.

"Rafayel"

You froze, hands resting on the bed as your head snapped to look at the Lemurian's face, you observed the look on his face. He seemed calm and willing this time, seeing him look so obedient had you grinning, your eyes squinting by how big you were smiling as you pushed your face forward to his.

"No takebacks" You pressed your lips into his, feeling him gasp in your mouth, however, he didn't protest, letting you kiss him so rough that you had him lie back down on the bed as your body hovered over his once more.

Right when you were getting into the mood, you pulled away from his lips, clicking your tongue in annoyance while Rafayel panted from how intense your kissing was. Rafayel's hands were right on your belly, the cold hard metal that was holding his hands in place was making you uncomfortable.

"I'll uncuff you. That is if you can promise me you'll be good"

The Lemurian didn't seem responsive, instead, he was just panting restlessly, partly to catch his breath or to regain his composure. Not noticing how lewd his face looked and that the pupils in his eyes turned to slits. You took his silence as an agreement to what you said and brought the cuffs to your face.

It seemed like it didn't need a key to unlock. Instead, it had a switch similar to what bracelets have. You pressed on the poking metal and watched the cuff on his right hand unlock, falling loosely as you did the same with his left.

You carelessly threw the metal cuffs to the ground, not caring what would happen to it. Right when you were going to resume what you've been longing to do for a while, you felt two hands grip your wrists before tossing you onto the bed, switching positions of you and Rafayel.

"Ugh!" You grunted at the impact. Eyes locked in with Rafayel's, which went from an innocent, obedient look to a look that held something similar to that of an untamed dog. Unruly, and incapable of self-control.

Not wanting to back down from simply being pinned down, you smirked at Rafayel. Cocking your head upwards with a scoff, watching the Lemurian's eyes glow in a blue similar to the ocean. Before he could proceed with whatever he was planning on doing, you cut in.

"If you plan to get a strike and run away, it won't end well for you" You warned, making it clear that you weren't phased by him.

"It will start with the entire Empire distraught about what happened to their princess. Then every man and woman alike will go through every end of the world to find the messengers of their respective Empire or Kingdom that sent you to me. War will break out" You felt the grip on your wrists tighten, but you didn't bother to stop.

"And then they will aim for your people. No Lemurian in the sea will be left alive, they will skin your tails, gouge your pretty eyes, rip your scales off, and every bone of yours will be taken care of" Your eyes darkened as you watched Rafayel's face grow angrier.

"Every. Single. One"

You felt him release his grip on one of your hands, lifting up his own to create a ball of fire in an attempt to burn you right on the spot. Your provoking was so intense it had a man of the sea create fire. What a spectacle this man was.

Seeing as how you were in awe, he paused from throwing the fire at you. Waiting to see what else you would do. You happily gave him the expectation he needed.

You slowly sat up to not provoke him any further, before using the hand that was free to touch his right cheek. Thumb brushed over the mole as he stared at you with wide eyes, confused as to what you were doing now.

"Don't worry. Those things can't happen if I'm alive. I'm the princess of the most influential and powerful Empire there is here. Kings and Queens all over the world send me their sons so that they could be on good terms with us" You assured him, caressing his cheek as you would with a lover.

"As long as you're mine, no one will harm you"

Hearing you calmly whisper, Rafayel took a second before extinguishing the fire in his palm, then placing his hand to press against the bed sheets. The blue glow in his eye had also disappeared, which signalled you that he was now approachable.

"...We could even create a treaty between humans and Lemurians" You initiated, gently grabbing his hand and using it to trace it towards your stomach.

"Right...here..."

Pregnancy. You were insisting on having a child with a Lemurian man. You could see the utter shock on Rafayel's face. He looked at you as if you were crazy, but your people don't call you a tyrant for nothing. Because the look on your eyes showed that you had not a drop of humanity in you.

Without noticing it, Rafayel looked at you with pity.

"If I give you what I want, you will set me free" Your ears perked at the voice of the Lemurian man. How nice would his moans be if you had him inside you at this instant.

But he was a whole other species. A race with animalistic features. So you had to play it slow and steady. Luring in the snake before cutting off its fangs.

"Of course"

Now the one who was pushing their lips onto the other was Rafayel. You gladly let him take the initiative, since usually you would have to do all the work, so it would be nice to have a change of pace in things.

His style of kissing was similar to that of a lover. He didn't let his nervousness or hesitance show in his actions. Instead, he was determined, hungry even. Yet so gentle and experienced. Perhaps he's done it before with other women.

If that's the case, then it saves you the trouble of having to teach another man from scratch.

You guided his hand that was on your stomach lower to where your expensively embroidered pants were. Using his big, veiny hand to rub onto your lower region. Making him open his eyes and look down when he felt how warm and wet you were.

Without asking, he slipped his hand into your pants, feeling your pussy bare, covered completely in your juices making it easier for him to play with it.

You felt his fingers tease around your hole, rubbing up and down to gather your slick lubricant for his fingers before sticking them inside easily. Making you let out a moan that released you off your starvation to be touched, you removed your lips from his to give yourself better access to moan.

"A-Ah yes! Just like that" You gripped his wrist harder, guiding him to press all the right spots. Suddenly feeling the need to make a joke at the same time.

"Mmph! How lucky the other ladies are to have a piece of you before me, huh?" You let out a messy laugh, letting out another moan when you felt him press a particular spot harder.

"Stop talking" He warned, however seeing him frown at you made you want to coo at how innocent he looked, like a child that had his candy stolen from him.

"Then make me" You wrapped your hand around his neck and pressed his lips against yours for the third time.

You relish in the taste of his soft lips on yours, part of you wishes he would use those lips and work on your body instead of his hands, but you don't want to rush art in its process.

While you had your hole thrust in and out by Rafayel's fingers, you used your free hands to brush onto his body, feeling every bump of his perfectly sculpted abs on your fingers, if you weren't so preoccupied with his fingers inside, you would have smirked at how you could feel him lose composure from a simple touch.

Soon enough you felt like his fingers weren't enough for you. So you decided to take back the initiative and grab him by his arms, promptly pushing him onto the bed and crawling up to move your hips forward, your pants lowering down in the process.

Now his eyes were facing your soaking wet pussy, slightly throbbing from the loss of his slender fingers inside you. Rafayel stared at the leaking hole for a few seconds before averting his eyes to look up at you. To which you greeted his lost look with a large grin, nothing but pure arousal in your face.

"Go on"

You egged the Lemurian man on, he didn't seem to hesitate when his eyes went back to looking down at your pussy, and then he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, licking up the juices that were spilling out of you, neglecting your swollen clit so far.

A satisfied moan escapes your lips. The same lips that you had praised for being so soft and lewd were now suckling and licking up all your pussy had to offer, like he was cleaning up all the marks left by the other men you had slept with.

"Y-Yes...Good boy..." You bit your lower lip, running your fingers through his violet-coloured hair to guide his lips further to the perfect spots of your pussy. His nose slightly brushed against your clit.

It seemed that the tiny praise you gave to the Lemurian made him more excited than you thought because right when you praised him, you felt two large hands grope your asscheeks, pulling you forward to Rafayel's mouth, his lips latching onto your neglected clit at the same time.

You couldn't help but let out a noise of shock and pleasure, the sudden warmth and aggression in his tongue caught you off guard as all you could do was hold onto the headboard of the bed and have your legs twitch from every continuous lick he was giving to your pussy.

With the pace he had, it didn't take long before you felt yourself slowly inching closer to your orgasm. You couldn't even let out a noise to indicate that you were close because of how needy you were, it was like finally having a gulp of water after spending days in a desert.

"A-Argh- Fuck!" You groaned.

Like an instinct, you pushed his face closer to your pussy as if it weren't already close enough. Probably having his teeth touch your skin but you couldn't tell, you were too busy using Rafayel's face like how you would use a pillow at night.

You were so busy riding out your own release that you didn't even notice how the Lemurian man's eyes rolled back from the sudden pressure of his face being used for your own satisfaction, the arousing smell of your juices wouldn't go wasted as he would attempt to gulp down every single drop. Seriously, where did he learn to do all this?

Without care, you threw his head back onto the pillow before cupping his face and bombarding it with kisses, aiming from his cheek to his neck, planting kiss marks from your lipstick and leaving a few hickeys behind. Tarnishing his clean body with your bite marks.

"So gorgeous.." Another praise left your mouth.

Once you were proud of the work you left on his body, you pulled off your pants completely. Making sure Rafayel's eyes never left yours as you did so, throwing them away somewhere at the corner of the room before you pulled down the navy blue embroidered pants he had on as well, before turning your back on him and rubbing your wet cunt all over his rock hard cock.

"Little Lemuria's quite excited, huh?" You teased, watching his dazed expression never change. He was definitely out of it.

You made sure all the saliva and juices on your pussy coated his dick completely, you could tell he was getting impatient from how his leg would hold itself back from hiking up each time you rubbed your soft cunt onto his shaft, but you weren't looking forward in rushing such a valuable moment.

When you felt like you got his cock wet enough, you held his dick with your palm, feeling your own cum slipping through your fingers as you slowly pushed it inside of you, letting out a large sigh of relief when you finally got to feel something large and veiny as his cock.

Without wasting another second you moved your hips back and forth, letting his cock hit you from every spot you had inside, and also giving him a good view of your ass as you continued to tease him with the way you rocked your hips.

Right when you made him believe you were just going to rock on his dick, you lifted your hips up and slammed yourself down, earning a loud moan from both you and him. The sudden action shocked Rafayel to the point his hands reached up to grab your waist while you continued to ram his dick deep inside you.

"Mmph! Yes! Right there!"

The pace you created from simply hopping up and down his dick became too intense that Rafayel couldn't keep up anymore. His eyes would fail to gain focus once you brought him closer to his release through the teasing you did earlier. Not hiding the moans that followed the closer you got to your orgasm.

"U-Ugh! A-Almost!"

You clenched your pussy while letting out a loud moan, the impact he had on your hole was far stronger than your impact on his dick since you clearly cared about reaching your own orgasm first. To which you did a few seconds before Rafayel could cum as well.

While you were trying to keep yourself up after completely raw dogging yourself onto his cock, you let out a gasp when you felt your body being pushed forward, your arms being held behind your back as you felt a harsh thrust snap to hips and a deep press inside your cervix.

A loud guttural moan left your mouth as you were forced into a position where the Lemurian man had his way with you, you couldn't see his face, but you could tell by the way he was holding back his growls that he was chasing after the orgasm you denied him from achieving.

You wanted to tell him to slow down, but you couldn't as all your energy was lost from the first two orgasms you had, all you could do was moan desperately while you continued to feel Rafayel's cock gushing in and out of your hole that twitched uncontrollably.

Thanks to you being sensitive, the clamps your pussy made on Rafayel's dick made him reach his high quicker than anticipated. He gives his few final thrusts by pushing your hips so far that your stomach and face are now pressing onto the sheets, you are about to reach your third orgasm.

You hear Rafayel moan in relief as he completely filled your hole up with his cum. Feeling the warm substance gush out of your hole and run down your legs as you came on his dick once more. Eyes roll to the back of your head, leading to nothing but pitch blackness on your sight.

When you two were finally satisfied, all you could hear was the heavy breathing that came out from both your mouths. You couldn't move your body anymore, all you could do was lie on the bed with your ass facing Rafayel, you might as well sleep at that moment.

And sleep you did.

The last thing you felt was the warm embrace of the Lemurian man, you didn't expect him to be so gentlemanly, taking care of you while you were unconscious. He would make it harder for you to let him go.

But to your surprise, he was already gone the moment you woke up.

At first, you were frantic. Threatening to kill everyone in the palace if they didn't tell you his whereabouts, but it seemed that the little fish was quite sneaky, as everyone reported to have never seen him.

Eventually, you gave up. The only one time you finally found something interesting and exhilarating in your mundane life sat right at your palm, and you let it get away.

Moving on was easy, but your body no longer wanted to feel the touch of another man. Every day the maids and messengers would present you with a line of gorgeous men, but you barely even spared a glance, the only thing imprinted in your brain was that god darned Lemurian.

A week would have already passed since then. And you would find yourself laying on the same bed he was on with you, bored out of your mind.

"Stupid Lemurian. Bewitching me" You cursed, tossing a grape at the wall, watching it bounce off and fall onto the floor.

You were bent on revenge. If you ever see him again, you are going to turn him into your slave, that is for sure.

"I hope I won't be turned into seafood if I let your highness come with me"

Immediately, you sat up in shock. Not noticing you had almost crushed the grape in your hand when you heard a familiar voice. Your head snapped to look at your bedroom window, and there stood a familiar man with violent-coloured hair and purple-hued eyes.

"You..." You muttered. Eyes frantically observing his new look. He had a gorgeous attire of blues, and his skin was covered in these symbolic marks.

You watched him have a serious look on his face, arms crossed as he eyed the grape you had in your hand. Curious about what you were so determined to throw at your walls.

"That's wasting food, princess" Compared to the man he was before, he sounded more cocky and mighty. Almost like a king.

You tried to find the words to retort at him. But all you could do was gaze at him in awe, the beauty he held must have increased tenfold from this past week, so this was what he would truly look like in Lemuria.

Snapping yourself out of the daze you were in, you stood up and ran towards him, finger-pointing at his chest as you furrowed your eyebrows and faced him.

"You bewitched me! And to add on, you had the gall to leave me after bedding me! You sly fish!" You yelled, finger poking a hole into his chest as he let out a chuckle.

"Oh! Funny is it?" You spat, watching his eyes trace itself to grab your arm that was poking him, you still had the grape in your hand.

Rafayel slowly kissed your arm, then brought his face to your hand. Where he took the grape in his lips and ate it whole, chewing the fruit inside his mouth and gulping it in front of you, then planting a kiss onto your hand.

The entire gesture left you speechless. Now you were definitely convinced that this man was trying to bewitch you. Your mind circled in thoughts on how dare he touch you so casually that you didn't notice how red your face was.

"Come with me, princess" He offered, eyes staring into yours.

"..." You didn't question him. Because you knew fully well that you would do wonders to leave the place. But you knew you couldn't, especially when you've done so countless of times.

"I can't. They'll find me and kill you. It's not worth the risk" You reasoned, eyes darkening with disappointment in your own words.

"I'd like to see them try and kill the God of Tides" He laughed at your words, to which you frowned in confusion.

"What does the God of Tides have anything to do with you?" Not realizing how stupid your question sounded, you watched as Rafayel looked at you with an arched eyebrow and a tiny smirk.

"...No way" Your eyes widened before moving your head up and down to take a good look at his attire once more.

Rafayel wasn't just some Lemurian lost on land. He was a Sea God.

"Goodness," You blurted out, watching Rafayel laugh at your reaction, to which you responded by blushing in embarrassment.

"Does this change things for us now?" He asked in between his laughs, to which you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I suppose"

You felt his arm wrap around your waist, bringing you close to him as you gasped, surprised by his bold gesture. When you looked up at him he had a fulfilling smile on his face.

Next thing you knew waves of water surrounded the two of you, maybe this time you could truly escape this boring place for good.

"Hey, Rafayel. Why did you come back for me?"

"Well, a lonely princess asked me to let her conceive my child. The kinder option would be to show her where I grew up, wouldn't it?"

"...Yeah..."

-

"Did you hear? The princess has escaped the palace once more"

"That's nothing new, is it?"

"Oh, but it is. I heard this time she escaped with a lover!"

"A lover?! That tyrant?!"

"Whoever that gentleman is, he must be crazy to elope with her"

"You said it"

-----

A/N: so like... clearly a lot of themes were running through my mind. maybe this isn't concubine! rafayel as promised BUT THE THEME IS THERE SO EAT YOUR FOOD LIKE THE GOOD CHILDREN YOU ARE (picky eaters are not welcomed, says the picky eater herself)

anyways incubus! rafayel is next, probably in a week or two who knows. after this, I will work on some zayne or xavier oneshots as well :)

OH AND CAN I SAY I WANNA OPEN COMMISSIONS SO BAD???? like maybe not for my art, but definitely for my writing. only when i hit 1k followers will I do that though so stay tuned!

here are the outfits mentioned in the oneshot for better imagination 💪✨️

[mapis-putellas]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Reader

Words: 3400

Warnings: absolutely none

Summary: You’d instituted a rule to yourself early on in your relationship with Alexia. When she hugs you, you’re never, ever, the first to let go.

When you first joined Barça, Alexia was a mystery to you. Her reputation had preceded her—captain, star of the team, adored by fans, admired by her teammates. But there was something about her that felt almost untouchable. She wasn't cold, exactly. She was kind, in her quiet way. If someone was struggling, she'd give a supportive nod or a clap on the back, a reassuring "You've got this." And whenever someone scored, she was the first to throw her arms around them, her smile wide as she celebrated alongside them.

Still, there was a distance, a quiet reserve about her that seemed to hold everyone at arm's length. Her kindness was there, her support was there, but it felt...controlled, restrained, like she was always aware of the boundaries she set around herself. You'd often catch her standing just on the edge of the celebrations, offering a warm smile and a congratulatory pat without ever fully letting herself be swept away.

But then, six months into your time at Barça, things between you and Alexia changed. What started as a friendship had deepened, turning into something you hadn't anticipated. The spark between you both had been undeniable, and soon enough, you'd found yourself in a relationship with the very person you'd once thought was a mystery.

It didn't take long for you to realize just how wrong your initial impression of her had been. Because with you, Alexia was anything but reserved. In the quiet moments you shared, she was softer, gentler, and, much to your surprise, incredibly affectionate. She'd hold your hand at every opportunity, her fingers laced with yours as though they were meant to fit that way. When she hugged you, she didn't hold back—her arms would wrap around you tightly, her face nestled into your shoulder as though she wanted to be as close as possible.

You quickly noticed she seemed almost insatiable when it came to touch. She'd come up behind you while you were tying your cleats, wrapping her arms around your waist in a back hug, her chin resting on your shoulder as she murmured a soft "Hola, mi amor." She'd pull you into a hug before training, her embrace lingering just a second too long as if she needed that extra moment with you before letting you go. After practice, she'd hold you close, her arms snug around your waist, breathing in slowly like she was recharging just by being near you.

It became clear that with you, there was no distance, no reserve. Her affection came in constant, steady bursts, like she was trying to make up for all the times she had to hold back around others. And you didn't mind one bit. In fact, you loved it.

Early on, you realized that Alexia was like this because she wanted—no, needed—that closeness. And you'd noticed how, sometimes, she'd hesitate ever so slightly before letting go. She'd hold onto you a second longer, her hands reluctant to leave their place at your waist or her arms slow to drop from around your shoulders. Those little moments were enough to make you create a rule for yourself—a rule she didn't know about.

You decided you would never be the one to end a hug first.

If Alexia hugged you, you wouldn't pull away. It didn't matter if you were on the training field, surrounded by teammates, or standing in the hallway outside the locker room. If her arms found their way around you, you'd let her be the one to break the embrace. It was a quiet promise you'd made to yourself, a way to give her the comfort she seemed to crave, even if she wasn't fully aware of it.

This rule led to some interesting moments. In training, she'd hug you after a good play, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as she laughed in that bright, happy way that made her eyes crinkle. You'd stand there, arms wrapped around her, waiting patiently as she let herself bask in the moment. She'd eventually pull away, her smile wide, but there was always that split second where she seemed reluctant to let go.

After matches, when you were both exhausted but happy, she'd lean into you, her forehead pressing against your shoulder as she sighed contentedly. You'd just hold her, your hands tracing soothing patterns across her back. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything; they'd just smile knowingly, used to the sight of their captain held close in your arms.

Some days, the hugs would last longer than others. She'd find you in the locker room after training, her arms slipping around your waist as she rested her head on your shoulder. Those were the moments you treasured most, the quiet, private times when she'd let down her guard completely. You'd stand there, her body pressed close to yours as she relaxed into you, her breathing slowing as she settled in. She'd eventually pull away, of course, but you could feel the way she lingered, just for a moment, as though reluctant to let the closeness go.

One night, after a particularly intense match, she found you in the empty tunnel leading out to the pitch. You'd just finished speaking with a coach, and when you turned around, she was there, her face soft and tired but her eyes warm. Without a word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you, her grip tight and firm. You didn't hesitate, just held her close, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other cradling her head as she relaxed against you.

Her body softened as she leaned into you, her weight a reassuring presence. She was quiet, just breathing steadily, her hands pressed flat against your back as though she wanted to feel every inch of you. You stood there for what felt like ages, just holding her, letting her soak in the comfort of your embrace. The world around you faded, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

Eventually, she pulled back, her eyes meeting yours, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. She didn't say anything, just pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before squeezing your hand and leading you back to the locker room.

Over time, everyone else noticed too. If they saw Alexia and you wrapped up in each other, they'd just smile or give you both a quick nod, letting you have that moment. The team understood, even if they didn't know about your little rule. They'd learned that, in those quiet seconds when she was in your arms, she was getting something she couldn't find anywhere else. It was her way of grounding herself, a way to let herself feel without the need for words.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

*

After nearly two years together, you could read Alexia like no one else could. She might not wear her emotions openly, especially around the team, but you'd learned to catch the subtle cues. Today, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and her responses during practice were clipped. She moved with her usual focus, but there was a heaviness to her, a weight you could feel even from across the field. You knew she was having a bad day, even if she wasn't ready to admit it aloud.

Practice wrapped up, and as you chatted with Mapi in the locker room, you noticed Alexia heading toward you, her eyes soft but tired. Without a word, she moved into your arms, letting her body melt against yours as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. She didn't say a thing, just slipped her arms around your waist, holding on tightly. You murmured a gentle "hello" in her ear, letting her know you were there, but beyond that, you kept quiet, simply holding her as she breathed in slowly, almost like she was trying to steady herself.

You were just a bit taller than Alexia, which meant she could tuck perfectly into your neck, and she seemed to appreciate the closeness, pressing herself against you as though your warmth alone could keep her anchored. Your hands fell into a familiar rhythm—one wrapped over her shoulders while the other instinctively cupped the back of her head, your fingers threading through the loose strands of her hair. She sighed, her breath soft against your skin, as if some small part of her tension was easing away just from being held.

Mapi was still talking beside you, something about the upcoming match, and you tried to keep up, nodding and offering the occasional "Mm-hmm," though your attention was mostly on the woman in your arms. Mapi, for her part, didn't seem fazed by Alexia's sudden appearance in your embrace; she was used to the little moments you two shared. She just continued chatting, a warm smile playing on her lips as she glanced between you and Alexia.

As the minutes slipped by, you noticed that Alexia showed no signs of moving. She'd gone almost completely quiet, her breathing soft but steady against your neck, her grip around you still firm as if she had no intention of letting go.

The locker room gradually emptied out as teammates filtered out to finish their day. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, and soon it was nearly empty, only the faint hum of distant voices and the muffled sounds of lockers closing down the hall. Mapi gave you a quick nod and a smile as she left, leaving the two of you in relative silence, only the quiet echo of the empty room around you. With just the two of you remaining, you felt Alexia relax even further, her entire body leaning more heavily against yours.

Sensing she wasn't ready to move, you carefully lowered yourself onto the small bench in your cubby, coaxing her with a soft tug until she settled in your lap. She shifted her weight, legs sliding to either side of your hips, her hands coming up to rest at the nape of your neck. Your arms wrapped securely around her waist, holding her close, and she leaned her forehead against yours for a moment before settling her head on your shoulder, her whole body flush against yours.

You let one hand settle on her back, your thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric of her training jersey, while your other hand rested low on her hip. The steady rhythm of your hand was meant to soothe, to remind her that she didn't need to hold everything together right now.

Her breathing had evened out, deep and measured, each exhale brushing softly against your neck. She'd closed her eyes, lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks, her face softening as she sank further into the comfort of your embrace. There was something deeply intimate in the quiet between you, the unspoken understanding that she could take all the time she needed.

Minutes passed, the silence growing heavier but never uncomfortable. The small circles you traced on her back seemed to ease the remaining tension in her muscles, and every so often, she'd release a soft sigh, her breath warm against your skin.

Nearly an hour had slipped by, the locker room around you silent and still. Alexia finally shifted, easing herself back just a fraction, her eyes meeting yours with a softness that made your heart swell. Her forehead pressed gently against yours, the soft warmth of her breath brushing your face as she exhaled.

You kept one arm wrapped securely around her back, and with your free hand, you reached up to tuck a damp strand of her hair behind her ear, fingers lingering just slightly as you brushed her cheek. She searched your eyes with a tentative, almost vulnerable look, and in a quiet murmur, she asked, "Why do you... always let me hold you this long? Why don't you ever... complain or pull away?”

The question was whispered, barely a sound between you, but the meaning of it was as clear as day. She wasn't just asking about this moment; she was asking why you had always, without hesitation, let her lean on you when she needed to, why you gave her all the time she could ever need without a single question or comment.

You smiled softly, leaning in just a bit closer. "Because I love you, Ale," you said simply, honestly. "If you need to be held, I'm here. If you want to stay close, I'll hold you for as long as you need. That's it. No other reason."

Alexia's eyes softened, a few silent tears gathering at the edges as she stared at you, absorbing the quiet sincerity in your words. Then, without another word, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, her touch tender, full of gratitude that she didn't need to put into words. Her lips lingered against yours for a moment before she tucked her face back into the curve of your neck, her hold on you tightening.

Minutes slipped by, each one stretching into the next as you held her, your hand gently rubbing her back in soothing circles. She nestled into you, her breathing even and steady, but she spoke quietly again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to let go," she murmured, her words muffled. "You... you need to make me."

You felt a soft chuckle rise in your chest, but you shook your head, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder. "Not happening, Ale. I'll stay here until you're ready to let go yourself."

A small huff escaped her, a half-hearted expression of mock frustration, and you could almost feel her pout against your shoulder. "If that's true... we'll be here all night."

You shrugged slightly, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Then we'll be here all night."

For a brief second, she was silent, and then a faint, soft laugh escaped her. She lifted her head just enough to meet your eyes, her gaze shimmering with warmth and something deeper. "I love you, you know that?" Her voice was quiet. "You're... everything I could have ever wanted."

The sincerity in her words sent a warmth flooding through you, and you reached up to gently cup her cheek. "I love you too, Ale. More than you could ever know."

She smiled, the expression lighting up her entire face. You pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before deciding that it was time to get her home. Without asking her if she was ready to go, you slipped your hands beneath her thighs, steadying her as you shifted your weight and rose to your feet. Alexia's eyes widened, startled, but before she could say a word, you flashed her a reassuring smile. "Hold on tight," you murmured, feeling her arms tighten instinctively around your shoulders as her legs wrapped around your waist.

A faint, tearful laugh escaped her as she looped her arms around your neck, her football-boot-clad feet crossing just beneath your behind as she buried her head back into the curve of your neck. "You're crazy," she murmured, her voice laced with affection as she nuzzled closer.

You grinned, giving her a gentle bounce in your arms as you adjusted your grip, making sure she was comfortable. "Maybe. But you secretly love it."

A soft huff escaped her, and you could feel her smile against your shoulder. "Maybe," she murmured, and you felt her press the faintest kiss to your neck, her lips lingering there for just a second.

With one last glance around the now-empty locker room, you shifted her weight in your arms, one arm supporting her beneath her butt while the other rested against the small of her back, keeping her close. Her kitbag and your own dangled from your shoulder as you began to make your way toward the exit, Alexia's weight a comforting presence against you as you walked.

The hallway was quiet, the echoes of your footsteps the only sound as you carried her toward the exit. Her breathing was soft and even, her body completely relaxed against yours as though surrendering fully to the quiet comfort you offered.

When you finally reached the car, you paused, giving her a gentle squeeze as you whispered, "We're here, Ale." She didn't move, didn't lift her head or even loosen her grip, and for a moment, you considered simply holding her a while longer, content to stay wrapped in each other's presence for as long as she needed.

But after a few quiet seconds, she lifted her head, her gaze meeting yours with a soft, almost drowsy expression. She smiled, her eyes warm and grateful as she pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, her fingers brushing along your shoulder as she whispered, "Thank you. For... everything."

Your smile softened, and you tilted your head, meeting her gaze with equal warmth. "Always, Ale. For as long as you need."

With a final, lingering glance, she released her hold on you, allowing you to set her down gently on her feet. Her hand found yours as she steadied herself, her fingers curling into yours with a soft squeeze as she leaned against you, her eyes filled with a quiet gratitude that needed no words.

And as you stood there together, her hand in yours and her heart close to yours, you knew that this, right here, was exactly where you both wanted to be.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @goldenempyrean @silentwolfsstuff @simp4panos @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[th3mrskory]

Unspoken Desires

Pairing: fem!Reader x Old Man!Logan

Warning: 18+ MDNI, SMUT,explicit language, coercion (if you squint), oral (male/female receiving), handjob, fingering, unprotected p in v, missionary, doggy style, anal play, creampie.

Summary: Y/N is always the one taking care of everyone, but tonight Logan decides it’s her turn to let go. Rough, tender, and unapologetically intense, he’ll make sure she doesn’t forget who’s in charge—or how good it feels to be taken care of for once.

Word count: 5.6k

A/N: As @coocoocachewgotscrewed so brilliantly put it, 'As the girl that takes care of everyone: SOMEONE TAKE CARE OF ME.' And that’s how this little fic came to life.

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The world had never been kind to her softness. In her youth, she'd learned early that the only way to survive was to take up space, to become a force others couldn't ignore, even if they didn't understand it. She had built walls from the ground up, stone by stone until they formed a fortress no one could breach. She had everything together—mostly. She had to. People depended on her and needed her strength to carry them through the chaos of life, so she did. She carried it all. Always.

But there were moments—quiet moments, when the world was still—when the weight of it all pressed against her chest, relentless. The loneliness in her veins. The unspoken ache buried deep within her ribs.

She never asked for help. She didn't need it. Her hands were too used to giving. And when she laughed, when she made jokes about being single—"Men want to be babied. I don't have time to raise a child."—it was easier to mask the truth. It was easier to hide the hunger that lingered beneath her words. The hunger for something she couldn't name, something too soft to fit into the life she'd built.

It was supposed to be just another day, another task, another moment in the long string of motions she went through without thought. But then she saw him—Logan, standing there with that quiet, raw strength of his. The way he didn't try to impress anyone, didn't need to, because the power in him was as much in his silence as it was in his actions. There was no pretense. No façade.

And she hated that it drew her in. 

She hated how much she wanted him—him, the one man who wouldn't cower in her presence, the one who wouldn't need her to be anything other than exactly what she was.

She noticed him more these days, more than she cared to admit. She tried to bury the thoughts, to ignore the way her heart would quicken whenever he was near, the way her body seemed to ache for something it didn't know how to name.

Logan saw it, though. He always did. The way she wore that strength-like armor. But he'd spent enough time with it to know what armor looked like—he knew what it meant to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and never let anyone see how heavy it was.

He didn't pity her. Hell, he admired her more than anyone he'd ever known. But he saw the cracks. The storm churned behind her eyes. The way she pulled away just when things might have gotten too real, too close. 

She never let anyone in.

But he wasn't afraid of it. Not of her. Not of that ferocity.

And so, on that night, after a thousand little things had piled up until there was no room left for her to breathe, it came out.

Her words were sharp, and cutting, but they were the truth. The raw, jagged truth that she never allowed to be spoken. She was tired of pretending. Tired of holding the world together when no one saw her crumble beneath it.

"What, you think I don't need help? You think I like doing everything myself?" Her voice trembled only slightly, a crack in the fortress that she had so carefully built.

He didn't flinch. Didn't back away. He'd seen that wall before, and he didn't fear it.

He only stepped closer, his presence as solid as the ground beneath them.

"I think you're too damn stubborn to ask for it," he said, his voice low, but the understanding in it was enough to make her heart catch in her throat.

For a moment, the world paused. The storm inside her stilled, and she saw it—really saw it for the first time. He wasn't afraid of her strength. He didn't want to tear it down. He just wanted to be there, beside her, when it all became too much to bear.

He didn't need to fix her. He didn't need to save her.

He just needed to let her be.

Let her lean into him. Let her rest.

Her breath caught as she stepped toward him, her hands trembling, unsure but desperate. For once, she wasn't the one giving. For once, she could be held, could be taken care of. 

Logan's hands were steady, as they always were, but now, they weren't just offering strength. They were offering safety—something she hadn't realized she'd been searching for all along. 

"Hey," he whispered, his voice low, soothing. "You don't have to be strong all the time. You're allowed to let it out." 

The words broke something inside her. Heat prickled behind her eyes, and her chest heaved with the weight of everything she'd kept buried. 

Logan didn't move. He didn't push. He just let her cry, his hand resting firm and comforting on her back, his presence solid as the ground beneath her. 

"Y/N..." His voice was softer now, laced with something she couldn't quite place. Gently, his hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears with a tenderness that made her knees weak. 

"You don't have to carry it all, bub. Let me in, just this once." 

Her hands shook as she pressed them to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Grounding her. And when she rubbed her cheek against his palm, the motion instinctive, something inside her gave way. 

Her eyes fell to his lips. The urge to kiss him became impossible to ignore. 

He leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead, but then he paused, his gaze locking with hers. 

She couldn't stop herself. She leaned in, kissing him hard, desperate for the release, the comfort, the closeness. It was a kiss that broke everything wide open—a kiss that held the weight of everything they'd both been holding back. 

The kiss deepened, the world narrowing to the warmth of his lips and the solid strength of his hands still cradling her face. She felt the tension in her chest unravel, replaced by a need that clawed at her, desperate and all-consuming.

Logan didn't rush. He never did. His hands slid down, slow and deliberate, tracing over her arms until his fingers wrapped around her wrists. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his breath hot against her lips.

"No walls. No fightin'. Just let me.", he murmured, his voice gravelly and sure, sending a shiver down her spine. The words hit her like a hammer, shattering the last of her defenses. She wasn't used to this, wasn't used to handing over the reins, but with Logan, it felt...safe. Right.

Her pulse thundered as she nodded, the tiniest of movements, but it was enough for him.

Logan's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile before he kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands guiding hers up and over her head. Her fingers curled instinctively as he pinned her wrists against the wall behind her, the roughness of the surface contrasting with the gentleness of his touch.

"Just let me make you feel good," he said, his voice low and commanding. She exhaled shakily, her head tilting back as his mouth moved to her neck, teeth scraping lightly against her skin before his tongue soothed the spot. Her body arched into him, her hips pressing forward, seeking more, needing more.

"Logan..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, a plea wrapped in the sound of his name.

He hummed against her throat, one hand still holding her wrists in place while the other traveled down her side, his fingers skimming over the curve of her hip. "That's it," he rumbled. "Let me hear you."

Each touch, each kiss, stripped away the layers she'd built to protect herself. She wasn't in control anymore—not of her body, not of her mind, not of the way she melted beneath him. And for once, she didn't care.

Logan moved with a precision that left her breathless, his hand slipping beneath her shirt, rough fingertips tracing the softness of her skin. He paused just below her ribs, his eyes flicking up to hers.

"Say it, darlin'," he coaxed. "Say you'll let me have you."

Her lips parted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I'm yours."

And that was all it took.

His hands, calloused and strong, gripped her thighs, hoisting her up with an ease that sent a shiver racing down her spine. She gasped, clinging to his shoulders as her body pressed tightly against his.

"Where's your bedroom?" he growled against her ear, his voice low, gravelly, and filled with the kind of raw command that made her knees weak, though she wasn't even standing.

"End of the hall," she whispered, the words trembling out of her as his teeth grazed her earlobe, a low hum rumbling deep in his chest.

"Good girl," he murmured, the praise almost too rough to feel soft, and yet it sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

He moved through her place with purposeful strides, each step a reminder of the strength coiled in his body. She felt the steady rhythm of his breathing against her chest, the way his arms tightened around her as if he dared anything or anyone to take her from him.

When they reached her bedroom, Logan kicked the door open without hesitation, the force behind it making it swing back against the wall. The dim light from the hallway framed his silhouette—broad shoulders, wild hair, and eyes that burned as he looked down at her.

The room felt smaller with him in it, his presence overwhelming, and consuming. He didn't glance around, didn't make a single remark. His focus was entirely on her as if the world beyond her didn't exist.

"On the bed," he rasped, his voice cutting through the thick silence.

Before she could even process his words, he was lowering her onto the mattress, her back meeting the cool sheets as his hands lingered, pressing her down as he needed her to stay right where she was.

"Logan—"

"Quiet." The single word was sharp and commanding, and it sent a jolt of heat through her.

His eyes roved over her, dark and smoldering, drinking her in as though he was committing every inch of her to memory. One knee pressed into the mattress beside her, his weight shifting as he leaned closer, his hands bracketing her head.

"Spent your whole damn life holdin' everything together," he muttered his tone a mix of frustration and something darker. "Not tonight. Tonight, you're mine."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out, just a sharp intake of breath as he tilted her chin up with his thumb, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"I'm not askin', darlin'." His voice dropped to a growl, sending a shudder down her spine.

Her heart thundered in her chest as his lips claimed hers again, rough and unrelenting, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip just enough to make her gasp. The sound made his grip tighten, his hands sliding down her sides slowly as if savoring the way her body responded to him.

"You don't have to be strong tonight," he murmured against her lips, his voice softer now, though no less commanding. "Let me carry it. Let me carry you."

Her resolve cracked beneath the weight of his words, her body trembling as her hands found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt. For once, she didn't fight. She didn't resist.

She just let go.

Logan's eyes never left hers as he straightened, standing tall above her. His hands were steady as he reached for the hem of her shirt. The air between them felt charged, and heavy, like the moment before a storm.

"Arms up," he commanded, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for hesitation.

She obeyed without a word, raising her arms as he gripped the fabric, his knuckles brushing against her sides. He pulled the shirt up slowly, dragging the material over her skin with a sensuality that made her shiver. The shirt caught for a moment, tangled in her hair, and Logan let out a low chuckle, dark and throaty.

"Relax," he muttered, his voice softer now as he freed her, his fingers lingering against her temple, brushing stray strands away from her face.

The shirt dropped to the floor with a quiet rustle, forgotten the second it left his hand. His gaze roamed over her now-bare skin, unhurried and scorching, like he wanted to memorize every curve, every scar, every inch of her that she'd never let anyone else see.

"You're beautiful," he said, the words rough and quiet as if they weren't meant for her to hear, but they landed with the force of a confession.

Her cheeks burned under his scrutiny, but there was no hiding from him. He stepped closer, his hands moving to the waistband of her jeans. His fingers brushed her skin, calloused and warm, and she bit back a gasp as he popped the button with ease.

"Look at me," he ordered, his tone low but firm.

Her eyes met his, and the intensity in his gaze made her breath hitch. He was utterly focused as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world. Slowly, he slid the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet room.

"Lift your hips," he murmured, his hands curling around the waistband, tugging the denim down with maddening slowness.

She shifted, doing as he asked, and he peeled the jeans away, dragging them down her legs. His fingers brushed her calves, and her ankles before the fabric joined her shirt on the floor. The air felt colder now, her skin hypersensitive to every little movement, every little touch.

Logan's eyes raked over her, his expression dark and unreadable. Then he reached out, his hands gripping her ankles, his thumbs running along the delicate bone there. He tugged her toward him, pulling her to the edge of the bed with a strength that made her stomach flip.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he growled, his voice ragged, laced with something almost feral.

Her heart raced as he leaned down, his fingers hooking into the thin straps of her bra, sliding them off her shoulders with an aching slowness. The straps fell away, his knuckles grazing her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"You don't need this," he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of her collarbone as he reached behind her, unhooking the clasp with a practiced ease.

The bra slipped from her body, and Logan let it fall without a glance, his hands already returning to her, tracing a path down her sides. His palms were warm, rough in the best way, and they left trails of fire wherever they touched.

"Every inch of you," he whispered, his lips ghosting over her skin as his hands slid lower. "Mine."

Her breath hitched, her body arching toward him instinctively, surrendering completely to his touch.

Logan's hands paused at her hips, his fingers slipping under the thin elastic of her panties. His gaze flicked up to hers, holding her there with an intensity that made her pulse thunder in her ears.

She nodded, her voice failing her, but it didn't matter. Logan saw everything he needed in her eyes.

With one smooth motion, he slid the last barrier from her body, baring her completely to him. He stood there for a moment, his gaze raking over her with a hunger that made her shiver.

"Perfect," he muttered, more to himself than to her, before leaning down, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Now let me show you what it means to let go."

Logan knelt between her legs, his hands on her knees, gently parting them as he moved with calm, deliberate intent. She froze for a second, a wave of embarrassment washing over her as she realized she hadn't shaved. Her gaze quickly flicked away, her cheeks flushing with the sudden vulnerability she felt.

But Logan noticed. He looked at her with a reassuring, almost amused smirk, his eyes flickering down her body before meeting hers again.

"Don't," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a thumb along her inner thigh. "I like it just like this."

Her breath hitched at his words, the tension in her body slowly melting under his touch.

He lowered himself slowly, nuzzling his face against her inner thighs, placing soft, teasing kisses along their expanse. His right hand moved to her center, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her sensitive bud. His middle and ring fingers slid over her hole, collecting her wetness, and spreading it across her labia.

"She's drooling for me," he murmured as his fingers slowly began to push inside, allowing her to adjust to the stretch. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching her pleasure as his fingers began to pump in and out, each movement deliberate and slow.

His fingers continued their rhythmic motion, working in tandem with his mouth. He moved his tongue over her clit, the tip flicking over the sensitive skin in a slow, teasing rhythm that made her body arch toward him. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, desperately trying to hold onto something as the heat of his touch seared into her.

"Logan... please," she gasped, her voice trembling, her hips pressing closer to his face.

Logan didn't stop. His tongue flicked faster now, tracing every curve, every inch of her, his mouth drinking in her arousal. She couldn't stop herself anymore; her back arched as her body responded to him, the tension building within her like a wave. "So good," she moaned, her voice breathy and desperate.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Logan murmured against her skin, his voice rough, thick with desire. He paused for a moment, lifting his head to look up at her. "I can feel you shaking. Let go."

She shuddered under his gaze, the command in his voice stripping away the last of her resistance. Her body wanted to obey, to give herself over completely to the sensations he was creating. "I can't... I need you, Logan," she pleaded, tangling her fingers in his hair, urging him back to her, wordlessly begging for more.

Logan smirked, his hands sliding down her sides, gripping her hips tightly as he pulled her closer to his mouth, continuing the rhythm with even more force, more hunger. Every lick, every flick of his tongue brought her closer to the edge.

He could feel the way her body tightened, the way her breath quickened. And then, without warning, his mouth pressed harder against her clit, his tongue moving with desperate speed as he drove her to the brink. She moaned loudly, her body shuddering as she reached the edge. "Logan... oh god," she cried out, completely surrendering to the pleasure.

As she caught her breath, her body still humming with the lingering sensation of his touch, a quiet yearning stirred within her. She sat up, her eyes locking onto his as she gently took his hand. Without a word, she brought his fingers to her lips, her eyes never leaving his. She traced them with her tongue, sucking them clean, savoring the taste of her arousal, before pulling back just a little.

"Dirty girl…" he said, his left hand cupping her cheek.

"I could be sucking something else", she said seductively.

He looked at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "You don't have to," he murmured, his voice low, steady.

"I want to. Please."

Logan stood up slowly, keeping his eyes locked with hers. There was an intensity in his gaze, an unspoken challenge, and a silent invitation all at once.

She positioned herself on her knees before him. Her movements were deliberate, almost hypnotic, as her hands traced the strong lines of his shoulders, sliding down his chest, and over the hard muscles of his belly.

When her fingers reached his belt, she didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, she unbuckled it, the leather slipping free with an audible click before it fell to the floor. Her hands moved quickly to the button of his dress pants, flicking it open, and she slowly lowered the zipper.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it free from his waistband. Her fingers, delicate yet determined, began to unbutton the shirt, one button at a time. Her gaze never left him, and the way her hands worked with such slow precision sent a wave of heat through his chest. The act was intimate, each button a whispered invitation.

Once the shirt was undone, she moved to the cuffs, gently opening them before pressing a soft kiss to the back of each of his hands. Logan closed his eyes briefly at the touch, the tenderness of it catching him off guard. His thumb stroked the curve of her cheek, the touch affectionate, reverent.

There was something magnetic about the way she undressed him—each movement slow and filled with purpose. Her eyes held a quiet hunger that mirrored his own, a silent language between them that made his pulse quicken.

He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. She didn't waste a moment, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs in one smooth, fluid motion, letting them drop to the floor as he stepped out of the garment.

He stood there, bare in front of her. His body was exposed, but it wasn't the nudity that left him feeling vulnerable. It was the way his body didn't respond like it once had, the slow burn of frustration creeping in.

But that did not deter her. She braced herself on all fours, the movement full of quiet confidence. Leaning in, she began licking and gently sucking at his balls, the heat of her mouth sending a shiver through him. His breath hitched as her right hand took hold of his semi-hard dick, her touch light but teasing, coaxing him to respond. The softness of her lips, the pressure of her hand, stirred something deep inside him, and he could feel himself slowly hardening.

She licked a long stripe from his balls up to his tip, her mouth hot against his skin. The sudden surge of sensation had him grunting low, his hands instinctively finding their way into her hair, fingers curling into her locks as he pulled her closer.

"Fuck," Logan breathed, his voice low and rough, as his grip tightened on her hair, pulling her in deeper, the feeling of her mouth sending waves of heat through him. "Don't stop," he muttered.

Y/N could feel him growing heavier and thick in her mouth. She released his dick with a loud pop and with both hands began pumping it.

At the sight Logan closed his eyes and let his head fall back, the hold on her hair tightening. She took him in her mouth and, hollowing her cheeks, began taking him deeper.

She gagged around him when her nose reached the grey hairs on the base and pulled back coughing, a string of saliva connecting her to his member.

Y/N looked up and smiled mischievously seeing him fully erect.

Logan pushed her onto the bed, his hands firmly pinning her wrists to the mattress as he hovered over her. His eyes locked onto hers.

"You're trouble," he finally muttered, his voice deep and rough.

She smirked, but there was a glint of challenge in her eyes. "You don't seem to mind," she teased, her breath hitching as his gaze darkened with hunger.

His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. Without warning, he moved, pinning her down more securely. "No, I don't," he growled, his voice low as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips over her neck.

Her breath quickened as she felt the weight of his body pressing against hers. She could feel the heat radiating off him, and despite herself, she arched up, meeting the intensity of his gaze. He was in control now, his hands steady as he guided her into place.

He took a breath, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "You're going to beg for it," he whispered. His tone was rough, yet there was a subtle edge of something softer, almost possessive. "And I'll make sure you don't forget who's in charge."

She bit her lip, anticipating what he would do next.

Logan smiled darkly and kissed her again, his right hand traveling down her chest and grabbing her right breast, giving it a harsh squeeze.

He positioned himself between her legs, gripping his member at the base as he ran his tip along her sensitive center, teasing her with deliberate strokes from her clit to her entrance. Each motion made her hips twitch, her body responding instinctively to his touch.

Her moans filled the room, "Logan," she said breathlessly.

"Yes?"

She closed her legs around him pulling him closer. Logan laughed at her antics. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned back slightly, gathering spit in his mouth before letting it fall onto her, aiding his movement.

Her moans became desperate, almost broken, her hands clutching at his forearms. "Logan," she whimpered, her voice raw with need. "Please… I need you."

His smirk deepened as he held her gaze, the intensity in his eyes making her squirm beneath him. "I told you, you'd beg" he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Her chest heaved, her lips trembling with the words she couldn't seem to stop. "I'm yours, Logan. Please…"

One large hand moved to her throat, his palm pressing gently against her skin, holding her in place. His thumb traced the line of her jaw as his other hand gripped her thigh, pulling her even closer. "Mine," he growled, his tone possessive, claiming.

The pressure at her throat made her head swim, a strange mix of restraint and trust that sent a bolt of heat through her. She arched into his hold, her body surrendering completely.

"You like this, don't you?" he rasped, his lips brushing against hers but not quite touching. His voice was low and commanding, but there was a glint of something softer beneath it, a promise just out of reach.

Her breath hitched, and she let out a shaky moan, her hands clutching at his wrist. "Yes," she whispered, desperate and trembling.

His mouth curved into a wicked smirk as his hand shifted, loosening his hold just enough for her to feel the contrast. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, dragging his thumb along the curve of her jaw.

The words lingered in the air, heavy with intent but unspoken in full. His free hand slid down her body, fingers tracing her curves with a deliberateness that made her skin tingle.

She whimpered, her body responding to every calculated movement. "Logan..."

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over her ear. "Stop thinking. Just feel," he whispered, the edge of his voice rough yet grounding. "That's all I want from you tonight."

He shifted between her legs, his hands gripping her hips, lifting her with ease as he positioned himself. The heat of his body pressed against hers, and her heart thudded in her chest, anticipation coiling tightly in her core.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper.

She nodded, her breath hitching as she felt the tip of his member pressing against her entrance. With a slow, fluid motion, he eased himself inside, feeling the resistance of her body disappearing.

Y/N threw her head back, a low moan slipping from her lips as her body adjusted to his length, "Fuck," she breathed, unable to hide the raw need in her voice.

She bit her lip at the feeling of him twitching inside of her. Logan leaned forward, his tongue sliding down the side of her neck. He then moved to her breasts, attaching his mouth to one of her nipples and sucking. He released her nipple.

"Breathe," he whispered, his hand sliding up to rest on her waist, grounding her. "I've got you."

He straightened up, his body towering over hers, and braced his hand on the headboard as he drew his hips back, the feel of his withdrawal sending a shiver through her. She barely had time to adjust before he slammed back into her.

She was trembling beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she tried to keep up with the brutal rhythm he set. Every time he pulled out, every time he pushed back in, the pressure inside her built, and she couldn't help but whimper.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts turning faster, more brutal, as he pushed into her with a hunger that matched the fire in her veins. Her hips moved to meet him, desperate for more, and he responded with a growl of approval, his hands tightening on her hips to anchor her in place as his rhythm grew harder, more punishing.

"Fuck Y/N."

She smiled at him.

"You like that, don't you?" Logan's voice was rough, and dark, as he pulled back slightly, only to push in even harder.

She couldn't stop herself from moaning, the sharpness of the sensation hitting her in waves.

"That's right," Logan growled, his grip on her hips like iron as he rocked into her with force.

Her body responded without thought, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper, faster as if she couldn't get enough. The sound of skin slapping echoed in the room, mixing with the desperate gasps coming from her lips.

Without warning, he shifted his position, his hands leaving her hips for a moment, only to slip under her and lift her body, pulling her into a new angle. She gasped, the sudden shift throwing her off balance, but Logan's grip on her was firm, and controlling, as he guided her back onto him.

Her back arched instinctively, the new position deepening their connection, and she moaned, her hands reaching for the headboard to brace herself. Logan's thrusts grew slower but deeper, more deliberate now, aimed to bring her right to the brink.

Logan's hand came down hard on her left asscheek jolting Y/N forward.

"Logan…" she gasped, her voice trembling with need.

He could hear it—the desperation in her voice, the way her body was bucking against his. He watched her face, her eyes closed tight, her lips parted in a silent plea for release. He wanted to hear her, wanted to feel her break under him.

He gave one last hard, deep thrust, then paused, letting the sensation build before pulling back almost completely. She whimpered, the loss of movement driving her crazy, and before she could protest, he repositioned again, this time bending her further back, his hands now holding her shoulders down as he ran his member between her asscheeks.

Her breath hitched as she looked back at him, over her shoulder, her eyes filled with raw desire.

Logan didn't wait any longer. He positioned himself behind her, his hands firmly gripping her hips as he pushed into her slowly at first, savoring the tight, intense heat that engulfed him. The change in angle sent a shockwave of pleasure through her, and she moaned, her hands clutching at the sheets in desperation.

"Fuck," Logan muttered, his voice low and full of grit as he began to move, his thrusts quick and forceful, each one pushing her further into the bed.

She gasped with each hard thrust, the pleasure taking over her senses, her body rocking in time with his. The deeper connection from this position sent waves of bliss coursing through her, and she pressed back into him, her hips meeting his with every thrust.

"Does this feel better?" Logan growled, his hands tightening on her hips, guiding her with raw intensity.

She could barely manage a breathless, "Yes, harder…"

His thrusts grew harder, faster, and relentless, pushing her toward the edge.

She couldn't hold back anymore, "Logan …I'm gonna…"

His strokes grew sloppier as he grabbed her neck, angling her face so he could kiss her.

Y/N's moans filled the room. The mixture of his hard thrusts and the slap of his balls on her ass pushed her over the edge as she began shaking.

Y/N fell forward, her face on the bed and her ass in the air. Logan didn't stop. His hands opened her asscheeks as he watched his thick, veiny member going in and out of her hole, creating a creamy ring at the base of his member.

The new angle allowed Logan to continuously hit her cervix. "Be a good girl, come on my dick."

Her hands fisted the sheets and Logan, with his thumb began circling her other hole. The new stimulation tipped Y/N over the edge as she came hard on his member.

Logan didn't stop. Didn't even slow down as he followed her, his movements like a force of nature, unyielding, as he pushed her through the waves of pleasure, every last inch of her shaking with the force of it.

Her mouth fell open as she felt him stilling and his release spilling inside of her.

"Fuck!", he said, throwing his head back.

He remained still for a moment but then pulled out when he felt his member softening. He sat on his knees admiring their joint releases dripping out of her spent hole.

"Jesus, that's a fucking sight.", his index finger reached collecting the release and pushing it back.

Y/N moaned and fell on her stomach. He removed his fingers and lay next to her.

"Did it help?", he asked playfully.

"Shut up Logan."

______________________________________________________________

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[ohsc]

₊˚⊹♡ assistance | sam winchester x reader

a/n - not for kinktober just a fic i wanted to get out!! i’m unsure whether i like the dialogue on this im sorry if it sucks i feel i can never write dirty talk right *sobs* but i really hope you enjoy!!! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2k, nsfw 18+, phone sex, mutual masturbation, kind of softdom!sam, long distance, fluff, comfort, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was later than he’d liked by the time he finally got back to the motel. With muscles that ached from the day’s strain, brain fogged from how tired he was, Sam honestly just wanted to call his girlfriend and talk to her until he fell asleep.

He’d meant to text her a couple of hours prior to let her know the hunt was dragging on longer than expected, but his phone had fucking died when he and Dean were two hours into their trek into the woods to find the pack of werewolves they were hunting, and he’d been pretty miserable ever since.

Dean had disappeared off to the nearest bar after dropping Sam off at their room so he thankfully had the place to himself to mope around as he plugged his phone into the charger and showered whilst he waited for it to get some power. The shitty water pressure and barely lukewarm water did nothing for his aching back, so he was even more agitated by the time he got himself settled onto the uncomfortable mattress twenty minutes later, hair wet and skin still damp beneath his clothes with his eagerness to call her.

As much as he hated being away from her for so long, and too often, it was the safest thing to do. Sam wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something happened to her because she was too close to his shit. He still had dreams about Jess, about how that was all his fault. He couldn’t let it happen again.

His phone hadn’t even reached twenty percent but he was impatient and shuffled over to the edge of the bed so the phone cord would reach and held the phone to his ear as he called her, propped himself up against the headboard.

The phone didn’t even ring twice before she answered.

“Sam?”

“Hey, baby.” The words came out in an exhale, most of the tension left him just at the sound of her voice, the ache seeping out of his bones like a relief. It was what kept him sane whenever he was away. Her picture in his wallet, her hair tie on his wrist, her voice in his ear.

“Hi, Sammy. Got worried when you didn’t call on time.”

He winced at the thought. She worried for him, of course she did. Sam understood how horrible it must have felt for her, knowing what he was going off to do. He could only imagine the dread that must’ve curled inside of her whenever he was late calling. Too many things had happened in the past, too many things could still go wrong.

“Sorry, my phone died when we were still out, didn’t get back until way later than I thought,” he groaned, sank down the headboard a little to stretch out on the bed. The agitation still hadn’t quite left him, the stiffness in his muscles prominent. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with her in his arms and he couldn’t have it. “Miss you, honey.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she responded, “Missed you more. Wish you were here, it’s cold at night without you in bed too.”

He snorted a quiet laugh. “That’s why you miss me?”

“Mhm,” she giggled, though her voice turned a little coy as she murmured, “among other reasons.”

“Yeah?” An automatic smile was curling at his mouth.

Another little giggle through the receiver. He didn’t even need to see her to know that she had that little bashful smile on her face. He also knew exactly what was on her mind, it was on his too.

It wasn’t the first time they’d have done this. He was on the road so often that their sex life wasn’t as amazing as it could have been, and it wasn’t like he didn’t pleasure himself when he was away on hunts anyways.

There had been many many evenings he’d spent in the shower, hot water rolling down his back as he had one hand pressed to the tiled wall whilst the other pumped his cock until his cum was washed down the drain along with his shampoo bubbles. It wasn’t ideal — bottom lip tucked between his teeth to stifle the heaving breaths and quiet groans, trying to get off as fast as he could before the hot water could run out or Dean could get back to the room. It was even worse when it became a result of having her on the phone. There had been many occasions where her soft voice and giggles in his ear had been enough to get him hard, on nights when he was really missing her and it had just been too long since he’d kissed her.

It turned out she did the same as him. Though when Sam pictured it, it was a lot more graceful than his time in the shower. Laid out all pretty on their bed, legs spread, fingers wet with her own arousal as her head tipped back against the pillows. Sometimes if he got a little selfish he pictured her voice all whimpery saying his name as she came, but he couldn’t get lost in that daydream often, or he’d get hard over that, too.

“Miss you,” she breathed again, and the shift in her tone was palpable. “I… I tried touching myself earlier but I couldn’t cum without you on the phone.”

The groan that left him was automatic and his cock throbbed, hardening beneath the material of his boxers. The idea that she couldn’t even get off without his voice in her ear did wonders for him, it was a wonder his ego wasn’t too big already.

“You need my help, honey?” He crooned into the phone, settled into the tone of voice he knew she liked to hear, the voice he used more often than not when he was whispering in her ear, hips slotted between her thighs, rolling in a rhythm that left her whiney and panting.

Her soft little “mhm” was enough for him to move his other hand down and palm himself, hissing in a breath through his teeth.

“Go ahead and lay down for me, pretty girl. Wanna tell me what you’re wearing?”

There was the rustling of sheets over the phone before her voice spoke up again, “Just one of your shirts.”

Another groan. “You trying to kill me, baby?”

She giggled and his cock twitched beneath his palm. Jesus Christ he needed to get back to her, he needed her in person, to sate the need that wouldn’t be doused thoroughly enough over the phone.

“Go ahead and spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he breathed, palming his cock again as he spoke, eyes squeezing shut as his head knocked back against the headboard. “Did you get yourself all worked up earlier, hm? Are you all soaked already?”

There was another hum, though he could hear the way her breathing had deepened, deep and heavy in his ear. He could picture the tickle of her breath on his face, the shape of her lips, the taste of her mouth after she’d just brushed her teeth. He needed her.

“Why don’t you start touching yourself for me?” He murmured, voice low with his arousal. Her resounding moan was enough for his cock to throb again and his hand finally dipped beneath his waistband, freeing himself with a quiet groan.

“Are you touching yourself too?” She whimpered, and it was a miracle he didn’t just cum there and then.

“Yeah,” his hand lifted and he tipped his head down to spit into his palm, groaning softly the next time he pumped his cock. “Yeah I am, dolly. Your pretty voice got me all worked up— fuck.” He breathed out the word between his teeth. He was already leaking pre-cum, thumbing over the head of his cock in a move that made him shudder, though it felt nice when she did it. Stroked his cock with her pretty hands, her pretty lips that wrapped around his head when she was on her knees for him, licking along the length of his dick in a way that always made him weak in the knees.

She moaned again and his hips jerked, rutting into his hand with a filthy groan. “How’re you feeling, honey?”

She whimpered, and Sam felt another dribble of pre-cum slide down the length of his cock. “Good— mm, good, j’st—” she took in a shaky breath, “feels better when it’s you, baby.”

“Oh yeah?” He grunted, pumping his cock just a little faster. “Why’s that, dolly?”

“Bigger hands,” she breathed. “longer fingers.”

Sam moaned, the idea of his fingers nestled deep in her wet heat enough for his cock to throb in his hand, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. But from the sounds of her pretty little whimpers, neither would she. “Can’t fill that pretty pussy up as nice as I can, hm?” He took in a shuddering breath. “Play with your clit for me, sweetheart.”

He could hear the moment she did, the sharp inhale, the whimpery moan, the rustling of the sheets as she, undoubtedly, spread her legs wider. “Oh god, Sammy—”

“Are you close, sweetheart?”

All he got in response was a high-pitched “uh-huh.”

“That’s it— shit, that’s it, baby,” he panted, pumping his cock faster, moaning softly as his head arched back. “Go on, dolly, make some pretty sounds for me as you cum, won’t you? M’gonna cum just thinking about you making such a mess of yourself, c’mon, baby—” he was practically begging between sharp breaths.

It only took a moment before he heard her sharp inhale and the whine that followed, and all it took was a few more quick ruts into his hand and the sounds of her before he groaned her name, toes curled and eyelids scrunched as he came. He could feel the evidence of his orgasm dribbling down his cock and his fingers as he shucked a few more times, hissing through his teeth as he finally stopped.

“Oh sweetheart,” he breathed, panting, not unlike her heavy breaths into the phone. “You sounded so fucking pretty, honey. That feel good for you?”

She took a shuddery breath and hummed again. “Yeah, thanks baby.”

Sam couldn’t help the breathy chuckle. “Don’t need to thank me,” he murmured. “M’always gonna take care of my girl, even if I’m not there. You made quite a mess of me, too.”

She breathed a laugh, and a moment passed of just their shared breathing as they both calmed down. Sam’s cock had softened completely against his abdomen, and he’d have to change his clothes and have another shower, but fuck was it worth it.

“I’ll be on my way back to you tomorrow,” he promised once his breathing had mostly evened out. “Should be with you before dinner, then you get me all to yourself.”

She yawned into the phone before mumbling, “Good, want you back to me as soon as possible.”

The sound of her so sleepy just left him so soft. “I promise I will be,” he breathed. “Why don’t you get some sleep, okay honey? I’ll call you in the morning when we’re on the road.”

“Okay,” her voice had completely softened, coated in a sickly-sweet fondness that left him putty in her hands. “I love you. Get back to me safe, okay?”

“I always do,” Sam smiled. “I love you too. Night, gorgeous.”

She yawned her own goodbye before the line went dead, and he let the phone drop back down onto the mattress with a heavy breath.

Just one more day, then he could have her in person, help her in all the ways he wanted to on the phone.

[heirofnight]

meddling

azriel x reader drabble

word count: 2k - longest drabble ever, i'm so sorry

summary: reader just escaped a horrific past that has left her closed off and in need of isolation. she takes up residence at the house of wind, finding solace in the private library. she's content to keep to herself, but a meddling house and a stray little shadow have other plans.

a/n: i wrote this very quickly, this is more like a stream of consciousness than a well-planned piece of writing lol. also my first time posting so pls be kind 😭 i just felt like writing and then ... this happened. ok enjoy!

azriel was a silent, watchful protector of yours when you initially arrived at the night court. studying you, observing you from afar. you spend most of your time on the third level of the house of wind - shy and in need of isolation. your past was something you were desperate to forget. but, even after your relocation to velaris, your mind was murky. you'd tried sorting through thoughts and emotions that you'd pushed deep down in order to survive, but it all felt akin to wading through waist-deep mud in heavy, laced-up boots. you'd found solace in the private library on the third floor, only doors down from your own chambers. many mornings you awoke, dressed, and shuffled to the warm library that was lit with beams of light from dawn's glow. you'd curl into your favorite chair that overlooked velaris and the glistening sidra far down below, taking in a centering breath. it felt like muscle memory, and the house had learned of your routine. a warm teacup waited for you, right beside your well-loved armchair. your tea was the perfect temperature: the house had learned that too. and every morning, a sly, stray tendril of shadow wove its way through the half-opened library doors. it noted your presence, your general state of well-being, before darting away playfully to relay this information back to its master. yes, rhys had asked azriel to watch over you, but even az knew that this level of attentiveness was overkill - even for him. you'd peek up at the tiny shadow each morning, expecting it now. at first, shortly after arriving at the house, you'd blink up at it - not having the mental energy to delve into its motive. now, a couple of months later, you'd felt more settled. more relaxed. and you almost considered this lone shadow to be a sweet little companion, the only being that dared approach you this frequently. you'd give it a soft grin each morning, and it would swirl happily, lazily, before departing as quickly as it came.

you were always cold. try as you might, you often only felt true, comfortable warmth when bundled beneath the layered blankets that adorned your oversized bed. you knew you shared this hallway with azriel, but rarely ever saw him. you'd hear him arrive late at night every now and then - assuming that he'd just returned from some sort of mission. what you didn't know, however, was that azriel had tried his hardest to silence the thump of his boots against the stone floor every single time he approached the arched door of your room. before, when he only shared this hallway with cassian, he'd make noise on purpose upon arriving home. his own way of letting his brother know that he was home and safe, without having to strike up any sort of conversation. he was drained after most missions, had enough of speaking. but with you occupying the room next to his own now, he wouldn't dare disturb your well-deserved, peaceful slumber. az assumed with the past you'd endured, that you'd trained yourself to sleep light. not a sound, don't fuck this up, he'd think to himself, willing his shadows to silence his footsteps entirely. even with the suppressed steps, he still tightened every single muscle. stepping so slowly, he knew he must look ridiculous. if cassian ever saw this, saw him, he would never live it down. on several occasions, your heavy wooden door had unlatched on its own during the night, leaving just enough of a space between the frame and the door that azriel could see the beige drapes that fluttered lightly against your windows through it. your sweet shadow companion would leave az's silent side to dart through the crack, and return just as quickly to whisper cold, shivering against his master's ear. to deter the draft from chilling your bones any further, azriel would reach a scarred hand out to the doorknob, closing it as silently as possible - making sure to pull until he heard the slight click of the latch.

you'd often opted to eat your meals either in the library or in your room - the house setting out a plate and silverware for you wherever you'd decided to spend your time that evening. you didn't allow yourself to wonder what the members of rhysand's family must have thought of you - a secluded, timid female that went out of her way to avoid the members of a family that had tried so hard to give her a home, a place to heal. you'd always quickly push those thoughts to the back of your mind, wanting to focus on taking care of yourself, and not others for once.

tonight, you'd chosen the library. you'd recently begun a trio of books that you'd found on one of the overflowing shelves, and you were unable to put them down once you'd started. you didn't notice the time, didn't notice the mid-afternoon sun become dusk, making the sidra glow like wildfire. you did, however, notice the grumble of your stomach once it became evening. the light of day was gone - the library now filled with the warm glow of faelights, dim candles sitting in golden candelabras, and a crackling fire within the hearth across from you. you frowned to yourself, noticing now that the house hadn't placed dinner on the mahogany coffee table that sat in front of the fire. you glanced around, the thought of verbally speaking to the house itself feeling a bit silly. you briefly told yourself that asking the house may offend it - that was even more laughable. could you offend a house? while silently mulling over these questions, that sly, sleek little tendril of shadow slowly approached you from the door of the library. it curled and twisted its way to you, stopping at your right hand to weave its way around your wrist. you looked down at it curiously - it had never touched you before, had never gotten this close. you'd deduced at this point that it was one of az's shadows - figured that it was just curious about the new presence in the house. however, it began to twirl, trying its best to get your attention. "yes?," you whispered aloud. speaking of silly interactions, you thought briefly. it weaved through your fingers, as if it were trying to hold your hand, before darting towards the door and stopping in the doorway. it was waiting for you; wanted you to follow. you cocked a curious eyebrow, slowly closing your book to set it on the table before you. gathering your linen dress in your hands, you stood, hesitantly walking towards it. "where are we going, little one?," you whispered towards it. the shadow responded immediately by darting down the hall and to the left, towards the stairs. you quickened your steps to catch up to it, only to find it waiting on the landing of the staircase for you. once you spotted it, it darted away again, down one level. peering over the railing, you noticed it twirling towards the doorway of the dining hall. family dinner was taking place, and judging by the various muffled voices and laughter you were able to hear from the staircase, everyone was present.

you tiptoed quietly down the stairs, which you realized was probably pointless. you were sure at least one of them had already picked up on your approaching scent by now. the patient shadow still waited by the door for you, swirling and twirling happily. inviting you inside to dine with its master and his family. you took a deep breath, watching as the shadow darted back to azriel's shoulder, whispering something against the shell of his ear. immediately, az's head snapped towards the doorway, meeting your own nervous gaze before you had the chance to escape without being noticed. his presence felt grounding - it had since the first time you met him. he didn't speak much, but neither did you. he felt familiar, safe, and you wondered briefly if it was due to the affection you'd grown towards his shadow that checked on you dutifully since your arrival - an act that you assumed was azriel's doing.

your hands were clasped in front of you as you nervously played with your fingers. you surveyed the room, taking everything in: the relaxed family, the spread of delicious food on the table. azriel continued to watch you with a calm, yet indiscernible expression on his face. the corner of his lips turned up just slightly, trying to convey that it was okay, you could come in. rhysand noticed you next - he followed azriel's distracted gaze to the threshold of the door, finding your small frame standing there. "well, look who it is," rhys drawled politely, loud enough to quiet the rest of the family sitting around the table. everyone's gaze found you at once, and you swallowed thickly. your eyes darted back to azriel's in a silent plead, his hazel eyes feeling like a lifeline. az nodded once, gaze soft and kind. "why don't you sit down and join us? we were hoping you would," rhys stated sincerely, gesturing a sweeping hand out over the spread of food. “help yourself, y/n. if you don’t see something you’d like, the house will prepare a more suitable meal," he smiled warmly. as if on cue, a goblet of wine, plates, and silverware appeared in front of an empty chair - courtesy of said house itself. you smiled softly, at the high lord, at the house's display of affection towards you. "thank you," you spoke warmly, perhaps the first time most of them had ever heard you speak at all.

the empty seat that was now prepared for you was right next to azriel, and you slowly made your way towards it. you felt the prying gaze of everyone at the massive dinner table, and silence still encompassed the room. your eyes flitted around nervously, and azriel tracked the movement immediately. he cleared his throat once, a silent, stoic glare tossed to his family. they got the hint, and all fell back into comfortable conversation amongst each other - attention no longer all on you. you took your place next to him, staring down at your empty plate. your hands fell into your lap, your fingers fiddling together once more. azriel watched you from his peripheral, not wanting you to feel balked at.

he leaned over finally, speaking so only you could hear, "would you like to try the potatoes?", his tone was warm and soft - comforting. you darted your gaze over to him, only meeting his eyes for a moment. he was much more intimidating up close, and you were far too shy.

"they're my personal favorite," he continued on, the corners of his mouth curled upward. you let out a small breath of a laugh, playing with a stray thread on your gown. "yes, please," you whispered to him, eyes raking over the large elaborate plates and dishes set in the middle of the table, searching for the potatoes he spoke of. before you could reach towards the gold serving spoon that sat within the buttery dish, his hand had already grasped it, bringing a heaping serving right over to your plate.

"i've got it," he spoke softly, dishing your meal. you nodded once, cheeks heating at the action. it continued this way, azriel asking if you'd like to try each entrée and side, one by one. he'd offer his own personal opinions on each one, and you'd both laughed at the way he'd described the asparagus - "absolutely abysmal," he'd report, nose scrunching dramatically.

after your plate was adequately filled, az went back to his own food. you began to poke at yours. "thank you," you whispered over to him after a moment. he glanced over at you and replied with a friendly smile, and over his shoulder appeared a small tendril of a shadow - your meddling little companion that had also apparently conspired to bring you closer to its master. it twirled your way happily, looping through your fingers and up your arm. you laughed softly, meeting azriel's sparkling hazel eyes. he smiled fondly at his shadow, "i'm sorry, sometimes it feels like they have a mind of their own," he paused for a moment, watching the smoky tendril weave through your hair. "they like you," he whispered, meeting your eyes with a grin.

"don't apologize," you replied softly. "i like them too. i think they knew i needed company," you said pointedly, not dropping his gaze for the first time all evening. he nodded in understanding, plopping another bread roll onto your plate.

"well, welcome to the family, y/n," his words were soft, but the weight you felt in your chest was overwhelming. warmth, true warmth, spread through your limbs, snuffing out the chill that had left you constantly shivering.

[loriache]

Butch up that Elf: my Marcille manifesto

TBQH, this came into being because the Falin "dragoness" fanart rewired my brain completely. It's sillytimes, but we're going to make a serious argument: trying out being a little butch would Fix Her.

1. Marcille Gender Discomfort

Now, Marcille LOVES feminity. She loves playing dressup, she loves elaborate gowns, she spends her free time going to the spa - the absolute last thing I want is to deny that. However, there's also a definite vibe that this isn't just a preference. Specifically, the way that she pushes Falin towards femininity suggests that she isn't comfortable with gender nonconformity in the people around her.

If this was something she was 100% confident about ("I'm doing this for myself and nobody else!") surely what other people do wouldn't be a big deal? Of course, you can read this as a little bit of solipsism; "what works for me must work for you too! I think this is so cute and would suit you - wouldn't you agree?"

But for the sake of this argument, all I'm trying to suggest is that gender nonconformity (and probably sexual nonconformity... well, frankly, any kind of sexuality at all) is unlikely to be something that's on Marcille's "radar". She hasn't tried out other ways of presenting and decided she doesn't like them. I do think she'd be a very flamboyant butch - "ouji lolita" vibes, you know? It's a whole new set of wardrobe options she could play dress-up in, even.

After the story ends, she starts dressing like her mother in all black, which makes sense - her mother was also a court magician, so she's probably emulating her in order to project confidence and authority. But I can't say I think she should stick with this. Break away and be your own person, Marcille! Try a fancy waistcoat and frilled jacket!

2. Haircut

This is another potential hard sell, I'm sure. The people she loves doing her hair is a cute symbol of their care for her, and her hair is key to her magic - so there's plenty of reason for her to keep it long. But like... think practically. Having someone do your hair every morning, for the whole of her long life, while it gets messier over the day (because she can't remember to keep it neat)... That's got to be such a pain. My hair gets messy when I put a hoodie on. And I have short hair.

It would require her to go through a change of mind, and probably a little more growth in how secure she feels in her relationships, but - the hairdo's a symbol. The more important thing is the relationships themselves. Eventually I think there might be something liberating about cutting it off, even if she might eventually decide to grow it out again.

The lion, her trauma, took something away from her which was really important to her. The people around her are able to make that easier, and make up for it, and soften that loss, but... Mithrun isn't the person he was before, you know? He's a new person. The relationship he has with his brother is new, and I don't know if it's one that the person he was before could have had. If Falin hadn't died, they wouldn't have gone on that wonderful adventure! They wouldn't have met Senshi or saved Izutsumi and Laios and Marcille wouldn't have gotten so close. So I think it's totally congruent with the themes of the story that the burning away of this part of Marcille's self might eventually create the potential for new growth in a new direction, not clinging onto the parts that are gone.

This also isn't totally out of the norm for elven mages - both Otta and Flamela have short hair. Otta is canonically butch, and potentially Flamela reads that way to elves too, but the point is it clearly is possible to be an accomplished mage without long hair.

3. Desiring (to be) a chivalrous prince

Marcille's succubus is clearly General Halleus from her favourite book series, the Daltian Clan. The fact that this is her ideal man.... it certainly plays into readings of her as Not Straight. But at least, this conveys the way her conception of sex and romance is strongly idealised, dissociated from the bodily and from physical desire.

There are many ways to interpret that, including thinking about what types of desire this fixation is obstructing because she is not comfortable with it, but I am going to focus here on what this desire does signify. She likes the trappings of courtly romance, and is clearly comfortable putting herself in the role of the princess, being taken away on a white horse by a noble (but tormented; eyepatch has "death" on it lmao) prince. (Though I think he's actually the token male lead who isn't royalty; he's a General. There's always one in Romfan, lmao. IYKYK)

A kiss on the hand - this is so chaste, I think it's clear it's more about desire to play a role in a dynamic than it is about desire in a physical sense. There is undoubtedly a big part of Marcille that wants to be a beloved and chased-after princess, but I think it isn't at all impossible that she'd also enjoy being the powerful, cool, and chivalrous "prince" to someone (a pretty girl, perhaps) who needs her protection.

This is a little silly, because it's clearly just aping the shoujo artstyle that articulates basically the same idea as her succubus, that Marcille is attached to highly abstracted and idealised romantic (and Romantic) tropes and ideas. But the imaginary "successful" Marcille from chapter 4 looks quite similar to her succubus. (Another thing I noticed is that in the fantasy she has sharp ears... like full elves have. Despite what she says, I think the cultural messaging that this trait is "attractive" and hers are inferior got to her at least a bit. 😥)

Also, the way that she treats Falin, scolding her indulgently, trying to look after her and wanting to be looked up to and respected by her... that aligns more with the "masculine" role in the trope that her succubus is referencing. "What are we going to do with you...?" I can imagine her saying this to Falin, word for word. Whereas, if anyone real started talking down to her, even affectionately, I don't think she'd like it, given the negative way she reacts when people don't respect her or her skills. Especially after canon, given the way the Winged Lion was treating her.

Her attitude to Falin is partially down to her reluctance to acknowledge Falin as an adult, who is independent and can grow beyond her and leave her behind. But I think even as they move on from that unhealthy dynamic, Marcille is still going to get pleasure from feeling capable, reliable, able to look after and protect Falin. She'd like to pull the chair out for her in a restaurant on a date, you know?

4. Conclusion

Even after the growth she goes through during the story, there are parts of Marcille's character that are very much obstructed. Romance, sexuality, and gender, feel like one of those to me. The way that her discomfort with the messy origins of food betrayed a deeper, more significant discomfort with the cycles of life and death.

Much in the same way, I'd argue that the simplified, idealistic, and safely fantastical way that she views romance, as well as her very "safe" gender presentation and tendency to push it onto others as well, suggest an underlying discomfort in her own gender and sexuality. The character growth she goes through leaves her in a place where it may be possible to safely re-evaluate her relationship with Falin, as well as her choice of clothing and hairstyle, both things that go through a change at the end of the manga. Neither, I think, reach a sustainable stopping point that we see - there will be a point when it's more servants doing her hair than friends, just out of practicality, because they're all going to be so, so busy. The black clothing to copy her mum is cute, but once she gets some more self-confidence in her own skills as a court magician, I think she'll move on from it. And... who knows what direction her relationship with Falin will develop, over the years? I'm rooting for them, anyway.

In all those cases, I think moving outside of the things she's done before, into something really different from the things that are "safe" and expected, will be the most rewarding path for her. Like in the dungeon, things that she would initially reject were actually able to sustain her and broaden her tastes. She loves dressing up, looking after people, and "princely romance". So I say: Butch Marcille! It'll be good for her!!

[sir3n-s]

Steve knew that one day he wouldn't be able to refuse to play dnd. 

Especially since he was now dating a dragons master or whatever it's called. He can't keep up with all the names. 

And don't get him wrong Eddie is great and dnd sounds sort of interesting but he's been against playing for so long he doesn't want to give up the act. 

But he if was going to give up the act he was going to get something in return. 

The kids were all gathered at Steve's house for a movie night. 

They had 2 different kinds of movie night, one where they all actually watched movies and the other where the movie was just there for background noise while everyone either talked or worked on something.

Tonight Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin were making character sheets for Eddie's new campaign while trying to get Steve to join as well. 

"Just play one campaign" Dustin whined for the 20th time that night. And probably the 100th time in his life. 

"Are you ever going to let this go?" 

"No! You have to play one now that you're dating Eddie. Aren't couples supposed to try out each other's hobbies?" He got him there.

"He's got a point Stevie," Eddie says finally engaging in the conversation after being glued to the TV. Despite the volume being low he was still watching it with intense interest. 

"You're right, couples should try each other's hobbies" Steve agreed. 

"Uh oh," Robin says without looking up from the puzzle she was going with Nancy, knowing what he was going to say next since he ran his plan through her first.

"I will play a campaign but!" He says before the kids could get too excited, "you all have to play basketball with me" 

They all groaned. Except Lucas who was completely fine with this arrangement.

-

It was Saturday and they were all at basketball court in the park. Most of them were wearing their gym clothes. 

Except for Lucas and Steve who actually had basketball jerseys. 

Max and el were also playing since they wanted to join despite the fact they won't play dnd either. 

And who was he to say no to them? The more the merrier.

Robin and Nancy were sitting at the bench in the shade, Robin saying she refuses to play a sport because she's too clumsy and Nancy saying Robin shouldn't have to sit alone. But Steve knows they just want to talk shit about them. 

He wasnt going to stop them, he knew it was a lost cause to try to get them to join as well. 

The only rule they had before playing was that Steve and Lucas couldn't be on the same team, 'it wouldn't be fair' Dustin said and everyone else agreed. Even Robin and Nancy. 

So they ended up being the team captainsin on each team. 

Steve's team was Max, Mike, and El while Lucas had Will, Dustin, and Eddie. 

And it was going well! Better than Steve thought it would. Especially with how unathletic most of them were. 

Steves team was winng, and despite Dustin whinning about how it was because Steve was older and had more experience he hasn't even made all the points. 

He did score the first point but El scored the last 2. 

It's was 3 to 1. The only point they had was from Lucas. Eddie couldn't throw for shit, Dustin kept dropping the ball, and Will was actually doing pretty well but was kinda being ignored because Lucas and Dustin wouldn't stop arguing.

He can tell eddie was getting annoyed with having to constantly break up their fights.

Their team only needed one more point to win and Mike had the ball.

"Pass it to me!" He yells towards Mike and he does pass it to him. Just way too hard. 

Because it goes past his hands and right towardd his face. Smacking him hard in the nose and knocking him over. 

He hears everyone gasp as he groans on the ground.

He heard the tapping of people feet on concrete, and on grass, get close to him. 

"Holy fuck are you okay?" Despite his eyes being closed he can easily tell that's Eddie's voice.

"Damn Mike why did you throw it so hard" he hears max says. He also hears a light punch but doesn't comment on it this time.

"I didnt mean to!" 

"I'm okay" Steve says while getting up, grabbing his nose when he felt something on his lip. Blood, of course.

"That would've been a great throw if I was a little bit farther from you," he says towards Mike as Eddie helps him off the floor and leads him to the bench despite saying he was okay to keep playing.

Everyone gather arounds him as El hands him some of the napkins she keeps in her pocket.

"If this is how you all act everytime someone gets hurt it's going to get extremely annoying as we keep playing" Everyone makes weird faces, except for Robin who was grinning.

And Nancy because Robin definitely told her. 

He smiles. "You guys are going to want me to play more than one campaign, so you will all be playing more games of basketball."

While Lucas smiled, everyone else groaned.

[spiderb00]

REST IN ME

Anora x reader 

“After everything Ani has been through, the universe has finally given her the peace she has always wanted, you.” 

Genre – Fluff       Warnings – Just comfort, my poor girl has suffered enough 

Now playing – Stargazing, by The Neighbourhood 

Anora was awakened by the rays of sunlight that came in through the half-open curtain. It was only seven in the morning, she didn't want to wake up so early, but just not having to wake up with the noises of the train passing practically inside her old house, she was already happy.  

Turning over on the bed, she reached for you, despite the sun streaming in through the window, she was starting to get cold now that you were no longer there to warm her up. She picked up the phone on the bedside table, looking at the time and sighing, where had you gone so soon? 

Ani had known you a two and a half years ago now, you and she met after all the traumatic experience she went through with Vanya. It took a long time for her to trust you after everything that rich jerk did to her, but at some point, she just accepted that she was falling in love with you. At the beginning of your relationship, she was extremely suspicious, always thinking that everything you did for her was an exchange, something dirty that hovered in her mind.  

All of these thoughts stopped after you confronted her, telling her that you understood all the traumas and that you loved her, but you wouldn't continue in a relationship where she didn't feel totally comfortable with you. After that, everything changed, she told you everything, her wishes, her dreams, her achievements, the bad things and the good things. When you asked her if she missed something, the only thing she said was "It was nice to be a trophy wife for a few days." 

So it was done, you weren't as rich as Vanya, but you could give everything Ani wanted. You worked in the real estate business from a very young age, following in your father's footsteps, the older man had left many teachings for you before leaving, and you managed to make good use of everything.  

Ani is the woman of your life, you knew how hard that girl had worked practically her entire life, and you were more than happy to give her everything she wanted. A house in a posh neighborhood? it was hers. A car? it was hers. Expensive trips? she had. Marriage and children? You were working on it. 

In the midst of all this, Ani understood that there was a big difference about how Vanya treated her and how you treated her. She didn't want to make comparisons, but at one point, it was simply impossible to say that she had the same trophy wife experience with the two of you. Despite the expensive gifts and without doing any work, Ani understood that having sex and watching that spoiled idiot play video games was not very well the definition of a trophy wife. 

 You adored Ani, you would lick the floor she walked on if she asked you to, you were devoted to her. Money wasn't the only thing that made Ani look powerful, you made her look that way. Ani had one certainty with you, you were in love with her, you loved her above all, you would do anything for her. 

In the little things, all the little gestures and attitudes were what made Ani sure that you loved her deeply, the peace and tranquility of being loved that she had never received from anyone before, the calm and peace of knowing that you would solve any problem, as an adult.  

Going downstairs, Ani saw your dog lying in the living room, near the couch. Nico had been rescued by you in an alley, while you were going to visit Ani at her old house. You took him along with you to the date you and she would have that day, it was kind of a pretext for Ani to finally come and live with you. 

You and Ani were sitting on the towel, the little ball of fur lying on your girlfriend's lap, his little eyes closing with the caresses she made on his head.  

"Hey, if I knew you would steal my girlfriend's attention I wouldn't have brought you." You said, a whisper loud enough for Ani to hear and let a giggle escape, lightly pushing your shoulders.  

"Stop, it's not his fault that he's cuter than you." Hearing her words, you threw yourself back, your back resting on the thin fabric, which made you feel the grass beneath it.  

"Ouch, I'm dying! Please someone help me, this beautiful woman just stabbed my heart!" You said, a little too loud, making Ani turn towards you and cover your mouth, still giggling at your childish behavior. 

"Shut up, you idiot, do you want everyone to listen to your little drama?" Ani watched your eyes widen and then you tried to scream again.  

Your muffled words could be heard only by Ani, who still had her hand against your mouth, to prevent a scene. Seeing that you had finally finished with your little theater, she let you go, instantly seeing the big smile on your face.  

"You're so stupid." The brunette said, rolling her eyes as she tried to hide a laugh.  

"And you're very BORING!" You shouted the last part, taking Ani – by surprise – by the shoulders and making her lie down next to you. 

Unable to hide her laughter this time, the woman laughed out loud, making the little puppy jump between you and bark. With your attention focused on the little puppy, you supported your weight on one of your elbows, turning to your girlfriend and placing the puppy between the bodies of the two of you. 

 "So, do you have a name suggestion?" You asked, petting the puppy, who was now lying on his back, one of his paws moving when you scratched in the right place. 

"How about Nico?" The brunette said, something in the way she said it made you think she had been plotting this for a while.  

"I like it. But why Nico?" You asked, seeing if you could get something out of the beautiful brunette. 

 "It's just... A junction." Ani said, more shy than usual.  

"Work it out, baby." Her eyes were beautiful in the light of the sunset.  

"You know, my name is Ani, and people call you Conrad, I just thought, it might be kind of silly..." She looked away. 

Some people close to you called you Conrad, it was your father's last name, and you didn't mind carrying it around a little from time to time.  

"I loved it." You said, taking a strand of hair that fell in front of the brunette's face. You loved the little sparkles in her hair, it was so Anora.  "That's it, Nico. I loved it." You said, approaching and kissing Ani. 

Your lips glued to hers for a few seconds, before you pulled away to play with Nico, who was biting your shirt. If you looked twice, you would see the adoring look that Ani had for you. Anora had never said "I love you" to you, but at that moment, she was stuck, that's all she wanted to say. The fear of being scorned once again held him in her tongue, but it didn't take more than a week for her to say it out loud, jumping with happiness when you gave her the key to the apartment of the two of you. 

Petting the dog's ears - who was now grown up - Ani heard the door open, looking in the direction of the sound and seeing you enter with a multitude of bags in your hands.  

"Hey, are you awake?!" You said, leaving the bags on the kitchen counter and running to the couch to talk to your girlfriend. 

 Leaning in slightly, you kissed Ani's lips lovingly, sitting next to her and petting Nico before taking off your running shoes.  

"I can't sleep when you're not there to warm me up." The brunette said, pulling your compression shirt so that you leaned completely against the couch. 

"Where have you gone, baby? Why so many bags?" Ani asked, snuggling on your chest, when you finished taking off your shoes.  

"Well, I went for a run to the gym and then stopped by the supermarket to buy some ingredients for dinner with my parents." You said, kissing Ani's forehead, making the woman raise her head, your kisses going down to her nose and finally leaving a little seal on her lips. 

 Anora adored your parents, and your parents adored her. Ani was very happy when everything went well, she was very nervous before meeting your mother and stepfather. You had a good relationship with your mother's current husband, he took care of you from the age of fifteen until now, and you are grateful for everything he does for you, and if you were happy, Ani was happy. 

"I'm going to make your favorite." You said, kissing the woman's lips once more. God, you didn't want to let go of her ever again.  

"I love you." Ani's eyes looked directly at yours, you felt like you were in the clouds every time she looked at you like that.  

"I love you more." You joined your lips with hers, a calm kiss full of love. The hearts of both of you beating hard in your chest, the burning love and the flame that never went out creating more strength within you. Every moment like this was like a reminder to Anora, a message that she would never be alone again, that she had you forever. 

"I think we have to enjoy it a lot before we have company in the house." the woman said, her hands trying to take off your compression shirt. 

 "You don't even want to eat breakfast?" You asked, knowing the answer your future wife would give.  

"You're my breakfast." Ani said, kissing your neck and jaw, whimpering like a child when she couldn't take off your shirt as she wanted.  

"Anora, you're going to be the death of me." She smiled. Amazingly, she never felt bothered that you called her by her real name, sometimes even preferring it more than when you called her Ani. "Shower?"  

"Let's start the day, baby." 

Hi guys, how are you? I hope everyone is well.

 This is a little different from what I usually write around here, but I've been obsessed with Mikey since scream 5, so when I saw her in Anora my crush for her ignited again (she never went out).

I needed to write about her, I wanted to write something for Mikey too, in the same style, something fluff, but anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. 

Drink water, stay safe and go watch Anora!

xoxo, spider.

[imdumbhi]

☆ ＣＡＵＳＡＬ

summary: basically what the title says lol

pairings: vi ✘ fem!reader

warnings: angst, smut

a/n: I hope you enjoy!

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST

If it wasn't for those stupid powder blue eyes, you would have known better to have walked away and not into a fucking wall.

How pathetic of you.

You were knee deep. That cut on her upper lip being the first thing you feel when her mouth collides with yours and feeling blown away by how she kisses you.

Vi kisses you like she misses you. It throws you off a bit because you never been kissed this way before. It's like experiencing a drug for the first time and wanting more because the second she pulls away from kissing you, you crave more.

How did you find her? You found her in a bar, drunk off her ass with no one around to guide her or help her as she babbles about some chick from Topside. You don't care. Yet, Vi did. 'I miss her blue hair' or 'She was so sweet', it was honestly sad. The sight of people like Vi astonishes you because you hadn't seen yourself ever being in their place.

That was foolish of you to believe.

The second you feel her fingers slide teasingly through your wet puffy folds, a moan slips from your mouth and your hips twitch towards her touch. That had your clit twitching for attention. Your glossy eyes with furrow brows then peer down, watching the pad of Vi's thumb move up to rub firmly against your clit. She kisses your gasp away and makes a circular motion.

How did you get here? She kissed you and grope your ass while trying to lead her down a dark alley.

You really couldn't help it. She was so hot.

And she wouldn't stop touching you.

The way she had touched you, taking her time and actually paying attention to how your body responds to her touches — maybe it was the whispers of sweet nothings or the kisses with something sweet and bitter. Or maybe you just don't go out much. The fact that you tried to come up with many excuses to convince yourself that what you were doing was okay when really, you would find yourself staring at a wall. Literally.

The flashes of Vi between your thighs never subsides. That memory has been playing in your head ever since she left the house Sunday afternoon. Her tongue swirling and lapping at your puffy wet folds like a hungry dog, god did she know what she was doing. Your fingers had thread through her pink hair, gripping a fistful and tugging her close to meet your grinding. Your pussy lips and clit sliding back and forth on her flat wet tongue in just the right ways.

"Good? 'Mm..." You remember her raspy voice and the look/feeling of her face when asking against your cunt, teasing your clit with a flick of her tongue and without warning teasing your slick opening. You can feel her tongue push in and push out, the pace slow but Vi kept pushing her face further. Her nose breathing heavily and pretty powder eyes staring greedy for your reaction.

Then there was this aggravating voice-

"Why the fuck are you moping and staring at the wall like that? It's weird, stop it."

"Am not."

"What? Yes you are. I can clearly see you doing it right now."

"Then fucking pretend you don't!"

"I can't! You're in the way!"

"Oh. Why didn't you say so?"

Art, your best friend ever since you were a child, sighs at you like he can't believe you're you and keeps walking by carrying a box of supplies. You and him own a shop in Zaun. It's small but pretty popular since the shop sells specific and expensive pieces of metals of all kinds. How do you get them? Art is pretty friendly and known with a Topsider, they trade a lot. You just don't know what exactly.

He comes back to find you staring but not at nothing, at someone.

"Hello, uh, did you need anything?" Art spoke for you. He then noticed the staring and mouth gaping by you.

The woman doesn't say anything. She does stare back at you.

"I'm so sorry about her." Art apologizes to the woman sincerely.

Silence falls in the shop. You can only hear faint music in the background.

"Wait, did you do something bad?" Art breaks the silence, frowning and squinting his eyes at you when he realizes the woman with pink wild hair is wearing hextech gloves. He knows you can't get that tech just from anywhere.

You break off the staring and blink, turning your head slowly over at Art with a 'what the fuck?' look when he assume you did something to break the law.

Shit is expensive and rare down here in Zaun, he thought as his eyes check the woman out. He could see how attractive and butch the woman was. She did look injured and bloody in some parts of her face but Art hasn't seen anyone like her around and if he had, he knew — he then notice your staring.

"Well did you?" He rose his brows at you.

"No!"

─── ⋆⋅𖤐⋅⋆ ───

She wanted to talk.

Talking isn't this.

Your face flush and press into Vi's shoulder, your nails digging into her back. The sound of slick and wet fills the room, along with skin to skin. The woman above you had her strong hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them as she repeatedly thrusts her hips between your thighs.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

She felt so incredibly good that it hurt. You shove your face further into her shoulder and dig your nails deeper into her tatted back. She was getting rough, angling her hips and moving deeper. She was practically hitting your cervix. It wasn't fair and she hadn't let you up once. Vi was driven to make you lose control.

"Yessss!" It's cried out and for some reason that just causes Vi to drive harder into you. Shes grunting and huffing on top looking drunk on you. The bed creaking and your eyes shaking with emotion as you watch her above. You almost forget that this is only—

The pink haired girl slips out, you, gasping confuse feel her strong hands guide your ass to straddle her lap. Your pussy glistens and swallows her fake cock in one go, Vi growls at the sight. She starts to help you ride her and you think she's deeper than before.

"That's right..." Her words tickle your skin and you can't help but ride faster, your hips moving back and forth. But then, your eyes find hers when leaning back and you instantly want to be good, better, for her. You start raising your hips and slamming them down, your hands using her shoulders for support.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

"Ffff-fuck~"

Vi curse with a long moan and with her hands, they move to your ass to grope and squeeze. You gasp at the treatment by her. You suddenly then cry out her name again when she shifts under and thrust up, your vision going white. You didn't expect that but you aren't complaining when you're near the edge.

Everything is completely perfect 'till that name slips from her mouth.

"Caitlyn!"

That's how you found yourself awkwardly stopping and climbing off her lap. You know she's embarrassed when she doesn't stop you or apologize. You could also feel how tense she had been after she said it. You grab a blanket and cover yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"It's fine. Don't worry." You reassured her, tone slightly playful and light, your back turned towards her. You don't know why you said it that way or that in general when it clearly wasn't but you'll believe it because you don't get to be upset. Vi isn't your girlfriend nor will she be, you had to constantly remind yourself what you walked into.

You feel the bed behind you move and suddenly feel empty. You frown and turn your head to find Vi undoing the strap-on. You can see from her pink cheeks and narrowed brows, she was either upset or still embarrassed. Maybe both?

"Vi?"

"Can't even fucking do this without thinking about her..." You caught her muttering under her breath. She's definitely angry with the way she throws the strap across the room. She's huffing and puffing, her mouth trembling.

"Vi." You call her name softer this time.

Glistening powder blue look into your eyes and your heart flutters then twists at the reminder of the woman's clear lover. You could wonder and ask about what had happened but you don't. You wanted to help her forget even if you're left feeling used.

You offer her your hand which she glances at and hesitantly takes. You smile, pulling her back onto the bed.

"My turn."

It's only causal.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Our second DCXDP au has Danny hiding in Gotham with the cores of Dani, Dan and two other clones who survived. They need DNA to be able to reform but it's in a ‘it doesn't have to be now’ kind of way. Not just Danny’s DNA but another to to balance out their genes.

They'll become babies and be raised up. Dani was melting but forced Danny to promise he wouldn't find someone right away he'd take his time to fall in love first. Dan did the same and the twin clones did to.

Danny decides it's a good idea but keeps the cores safe. He ran to Gotham in the DC universe because the GIW were to close to killing him. His parents, Jazz, Sam, Grandma Ida and the Foleys all followed. Grandma Ida is running some gang down in crime alley having a blast with Sam, constantly trying to hook Sam up with Jason who Ida is in a turf war with. Tucker is happily running a tech company that will soon outstrip it's competitors., his parents helping Jazz is terrifying in Arkham as she tears our corruption.

Maddie abd Jack found out about the Leauge of Assassins and went: study time. Danny, knowing its corrupted ecto and also not wanting to deal with assassins lets then have fun. So Ra’s is dealing with liminal mad scientists who keep stealing the Pits and also have uncovered two Damian clones they kidnapped. Their kids now.

But we’re focusing on Danny who is in college and living a peaceful life which is what he wants most of all. The cores of his kids are always on him just in case and he's casually dating. It's great. He can just be Danny the guy who is super into space and plans on being a mechanic for the watch tower.

Then one day Two-Face attacks the cafe he's at (because of a sale it was having where it was two for one on some sort of new treat). Danny has to run for his life. He gets hit and the bag he has the cores in is harmed. One falls out and he freaks, diving for it. He grabs it just as Black Bat swoops in to save him. She flies him up to a roof.

They land and then she moves to grab one of the cores that fell out. Danny gets antsy but it requires skin contact so it should be okay, she's wearing gloves after all. It'll be fine!

On her part, Cass is wondering why her hand feels tingly but there isn't anything malicious in the mans face so she thinks it might just be the orb she caught being weird. She swings off, noting that she has a hole in her glove.

Danny goes home and doesn't think about it until he realizes that the core the hero touched is growing. And it's getting sick without the touch of its other parent.

Cass on the other hand feels strange. Like she's pulled somewhere. She instantly thinks of the guy and alerts the others to him. They hunt him down to find him on a rooftop. He's surprised to see them, holding an Orb that’s glowing.

“I thought it would take longer…” the man says. He shakes his head. “Umm… rip the band-aids off- I'm nottotslly human.”

The Batfam kinda pauses cause he's giving this info up for free. Cass is eyeing him closely. It's just her, Batman and Robin in front of the man. Everyone else is listening in or in the shadows.

“I ran away from my home dimension cause they were hunting me down to kill me because they believed I was non-sentient. You know sad trench- I mean, John Constantine? I think he put in the word we’re friendly,” the man babbles. The orb shines. “Okay, okay. I need to… Black Bat did your glove have a hole in it when you touched this?”

Cass hums but nods. Barbara has Constantine on the line (and no one wants to know the blckmail she has to make him answer) and he's confirming it's a friendly.

“Okay, okay… this is a Core and it's the heart, soul, brain, everything of an ecto-entity like me. And it… it’s my child. But it needed a second set of DNA. It's fine dormant, it doesn't hurt the baby. But it…” the man swallows. “Skin touch.”

Cass knows in a second what he's leading up to. She touched the orb. It needed DNA.

That's her baby in his hands.

Que the chaos.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Someone asked me to expand a little on a topic that was buried down in a big chain of reblogs, so I'm doing that here--it's about the use of the archaic "thee", "thou", "thy", etc. in LOTR and what it tells you about characters’ feelings for one another. (I am NOT an expert on this, so it's just what I've picked up over time!)

Like many (most?) modern English speakers, I grew up thinking of those old forms of 2nd person address as being extra formal. I think that's because my main exposure to them was in the Bible ("thou shall not...") and why wouldn't god, speaking as the ultimate authority, be using the most formal, official voice? But it turns out that for a huge chunk of the history of the English language, "thee," "thou," and "thy" were actually the informal/casual alternatives to the formal "you", “your”, “yours”. Like tú v. usted in Spanish!

With that in mind, Tolkien was very intentional about when he peppered in a "thee" or a "thou" in his dialogue. It only happens a handful of times. Most of those are when a jerk is trying to make clear that someone else is beneath them by treating them informally. Denethor "thou"s Gandalf when he’s pissed at him. The Witch King calls Éowyn "thee" to cut her down verbally before he cuts her down physically. And the Mouth of Sauron calls Aragorn and Gandalf "thou" as a way to show them that he has the upper hand. (Big oops by all 3 of these guys!)

The other times are the opposite--it's when someone starts to use the informal/casual form as a way to show their feeling of affection for someone else. Galadriel goes with the formal "you" all through the company's days in Lórien, but by the time they leave she has really taken them to heart. So when she sends them a message via Gandalf early in the Two Towers, she uses "thee" and "thou" in her words to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli because now they're valued friends and allies. And--this is the big one, folks, that was already alluded to in my previous post--Éowyn starts aggressively "thou"ing Aragorn when she is begging him to take her along as he prepares to ride out of Dunharrow. She is very intentionally trying to communicate her feelings to him in her choice of pronoun--an "I wouldn't be calling you "thee" if I didn't love you" kind of thing. And he is just as intentionally using "you" in every single one of his responses in order to gently establish a boundary with her without having to state outright that he doesn't reciprocate her feelings. It's not until much later when her engagement to Faramir is announced that Aragorn finally busts out "I have wished thee joy ever since I first saw thee". Because now it is safe to acknowledge a relationship of closeness and familiarity with her without the risk that it will be misinterpreted. He absolutely wants to have that close, familiar relationship, but he saved it for when he knew she could accept it on his terms without getting hurt.

So, you know, like all things language-based...Tolkien made very purposeful decisions in his word choices down to a bonkers level of detail. I didn’t know about this pronoun thing until I was a whole ass adult, but that’s the joy of dealing with Tolkien. I still discover new things like this almost every time I re-read.

[denwritesandcries]

Dating Tara having a scary dog HCs

Pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You didn’t expect your girlfriend to act like that around your dog, but it's still pretty funny though.

Word count: 1,4k.

Content: cursing, fluff, tara being dramatic and a caos gremlin, author never had a dog, mentions of scream V.

Note: Still don't think I'm really good at hcs but I had fun writing these!

English is not my first language.

- Tara could admit that she didn’t know much about you when you first started to go out, which probably would have caused Sam to have a meltdown if she’d found out about it, but, well, making impulsive decisions was her specialty.

- One of the things Tara had come to learn about you — details, mere details — was that you had a dog, after hearing you mention it once or twice.

- Tara, who had never had a pet before, was immediately excited with the prospect of meeting and having one in her life, wondering what it would be like.

- You hadn’t shown her any pictures, and on your Instagram there were a surprising amount of different dogs for her to be sure which one was yours, so Tara tried to guess. Would it be a puppy, happy and gangly? Or even an older, relaxed and well-behaved one, a childhood dog maybe? Would make a good cuddle buddy.

(Whichever one it was, she hoped it to be a short-haired; her asthma and allergies would be very grateful.)

- What she hadn’t imagined, however, was to come across her girlfriend smiling and waving brightly, with a damn hound on a leash on what should have been a perfectly romantic and uneventful date.

“What is that?”

“Hi, baby!” you greet, oblivious to her incredulous and apprehensive tone, “That’s Cujo.”

“Cujo,” she echoed, hesitantly, “Like… the rabid, murderous dog from the movie?”

“No, not the movie, the book,” you corrected. “Don’t worry, Tar, she’s a sweetie.”

“Your Cerberus is a she?”

“It’s just a doberman, babe.”

Great.

- Tara’s definitely scared of your dog at first, but she won't admit it. She's faced crazy killers before, for God's sake! A little pet was nothing.

- You know she's scared from the start. It's honestly kind of funny how she tries to act all brave, especially since you know Cujo wouldn't hurt a fly if she could (and she could), so you do your best to make her relax.

- Trying to get her used to it at first by asking if she'd like to hold the leash on walks, even though she always refuses it, “If it decides to start running I might get dragged across town until I fall down some drain. Would you dare do that to your poor asthmatic girlfriend?”

- Trying to avoid situations where your dog is involved doesn't work for long, though, it lives with you, after all – duh, Tara, really? – and your house is the only place you two can have some privacy without Sam hovering like a hawk all the time, so she has to get over it, like, urgently.

She stops you at the door the first time she comes over:

“So, is there any more… unexpected pets I should know about?”

You shrug, “I have some sea monkeys too.”

- She’s completely dramatic about it at first, as she always is when things don’t go her way. But it’s endearing, and it’s one of the reasons you fell in love with her anyway.

- So… Tara, who has staring contests with your dog every time she comes over for the night or to just hang out, because she can’t stop squinting suspiciously every time she gets too close to the furry form you idolize so much.

- Tara, who gets upset and sullen when you’re gonna cuddle and the dog is faster, taking up your entire lap, the place she should be.

“You can just lay or rest on her, baby, I swear she won't bite.”

“No freaking way! Here, just hold me closer.”

Well, she swears that your dog would have laughed at her if she could.

- Tara, who's sure your dog has something against her and chases her around for the pure pleasure of it, no matter how much you argue about projecting, dark eyes making her jump in fright whenever they're in the same room.

- Tara, who huffs and whines when you go to sleep and the dog follows you, sprawling at your feet in the bed like she's its owner.

“Oh man, even here?”

“Tar, she's sleeping. It's a dog, it's not planning something against you.”

“She's threatening me on purpose!”

“She probably knows that you dislike her, you know, it's pretty obvious.”

“Whatever, I'm not apologizing to a dog.”

- Tara, who actually finds it pretty comfortable sleeping next to the furball, who keeps the bed less lonely and stops the heat from escaping when you get up early to make breakfast.

- Tara, who warms up and attaches quickly afterward, even if she doesn't want to admit it out of sheer stubbornness.

“Awn, I see you guys are getting along. You're petting her now! That’s so great, honey!”

“I'm not! I'm just checking to make sure she didn't bring any dirt from the park earlier.”

- Tara, who turns into an absolute menace once she and your dog bond and you honestly don't know if that's a good thing or not, but it's chaotic anyway.

- Tara, who struts around, holding on to the leash to save her life and still managing to look completely smug like a damn small gangster, laughing at those who stray from their path or get scared by the sudden barking.

“Ha, look at them! Scared of such a little pup, losers.”

“If she ever gets up she'd be literally bigger than you, Tar,” you sigh, “And you acted just like them too.”

“Liar! All lies!”

- Tara, who spends her money on thousands of clothes and accessories that she thinks would look good on the dog, even though your pet already has a lot. Most of them are silly costumes from movies she likes, and one day you come home to find your dog on the couch wearing a cheap Michael Myers costume and you can barely breathe from laughing when she comes running up to greet you by the door.

- You definitely notice your dog wearing a big colorful bow that conveniently matches your girlfriend’s shirt and teases her shamelessly. All you get is a ‘she looks like a princess, leave her be!’

- She calls the dog by cute pet names and talks in a baby voice – which she denies to death – when she thinks no one is listening. Sometimes you even get confused about who the ‘hi baby!’ is for when she walks through the room.

- You're a little jealous when she prefers to snuggle with your dog instead of you, but you end up finding it so adorable that the problem is solved by cuddling them both together and that way everyone’s happy and content.

- Sam almost has a heart attack the first time she sees Tara with the dog, as do Chad and Ethan; Mindy’s a little hesitant and Anika’s the only one genuinely excited and happy about everything, wanting to pet it as soon as she sees her lying on the carpet.

- With that, Tara also defends your dog from anyone who dares to open their mouth and say something bad about her, whether they're your friends or the Karens you meet when you're out together (you have to stop her from throwing hands with them occasionally).

- Teaches the dog to purposely bark to scare Ethan every time he says something stupid and inappropriate and you're left wondering when the hell she had time to do that without you knowing, completely ignoring your claims of 'being a bad influence.'

- Protects the dog from absolutely any of your scolding, no matter what the reason, dramatically covering its ears and looking personally offended by your complaints. You can never stay mad for long with the sight of your girlfriend trying to cover up a dog who's clearly more intimidating than her and literal puppy eyes staring at you with intensity, letting go even if your couch or plants have been destroyed.

- You end up with a happy little family before you finish college without even realizing it, which ends up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

- Tara's favorite part of all of this is the slow and warm mornings when you two don't have to be anywhere and can sleep in, feeling your arm around her waist and your dog curled up between you – under the covers too because it got cold during the night – when she can sigh contentedly and enjoy what you have without any more fears about the future.

“You know, remembering how scared you were of Cujo in the beginning, I never would have expected it to end up like this.”

“That name still doesn't fit,” she says stubbornly, “And I’ve never been scared of our dog, I just wasn’t a pet person.”

“Our dog?”

“Oh, shut it.”

She would never admit it anyway.

- Tara could admit, though, that you were right: your dog really is a sweetie.

[luvismenu]

> motive — pt.5 ,, index ! nsfw

. . brother's bestfriend!jungkook au . .

wc: 4.6k+

warnings: banter, teasing, lots of cursing ofc, kissing, some oral (fem recieving), fingering, clit play, he's kinda aggresive, jungkook being a dick in the end, cliffhanger-ish?

jeon jungkook is so fucking stubborn.

once he sets his mind on something, there’s no going back. if he thinks something might hurt someone, he won’t ever risk it. he doesn’t change his mind, doesn’t budge, doesn’t care how annoying it is. he’ll stick to his decision no matter what.

it’s a stupid habit, but he’s always been like this. and honestly, you’re starting to think he always will be.

you’ve known that ever since the bike incident from when you were kids. it was your brother’s bicycle. you really liked it, and you wanted to ride it secretly because you knew jimin wouldn't let you. you begged jungkook to let you, but he refused. your brother had told him, very seriously, that it would break his heart if you fell and got hurt. and, of course, jungkook listened. he took your brother’s words like gospel and never let you touch the bike.

it didn’t matter that you cried about it. even though he looked a little guilty seeing you bawling your eyes out, he still wouldn’t budge. your brother’s feelings came first, even if you were sitting there heartbroken.

and that was when you were four, and they were nine

jungkook never told you why he didn't let you touch your brother's bike either. you only know about this because jimin told you when you grew up. which really pissed you off.

maybe it’s a silly thing to still think about, but it’s just so annoying that he hasn’t changed. he’s always been like this— choosing what’s “right” even if it makes you mad.

sure, he’s not your best friend, but that doesn’t mean you both didn’t grow up together. you were always there, tagging along, watching him and jimin get into all kinds of trouble. and your brother always found ways to keep you quiet, too.

“jungkook, let's carry her on the way home.”

“jungkook, give her your candy so she won’t tell mom and dad.”

and it worked.

every time.

it was fun, you won’t lie. making them beg you not to rat them out, holding it over their heads. oh, it was so fucking fun.

it’s still almost the same, you know all your brother’s secrets, and by extension, jungkook’s. growing up with them, you picked up more than they ever wanted you to. and, well, why wouldn’t you use that information to your advantage? sometimes for fun, sometimes to get what you want.

and what did mufasa say? it’s the mother fucking circle of life.

“saw that you were with taehyung a few days ago,” jimin says casually as he pulls on his jacket.

you’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling through your phone. you’ve been debating whether or not to text jungkook, but you don’t want to look desperate. still, your fingers keep itching to type something.

your brothers words make you pause, but you don’t look up. instead, you respond simply, “yeah.”

“why?” he asks, his voice closer now. you glance up to find him standing right behind you, staring down.

you shrug, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. “just because.”

and then, without warning, he snatches the phone from your hands, holding it high above his head. you gasp, jumping up immediately.

“oh, you son of a—”

“careful,” he interrupts with a smug grin, “we share the same mother.”

you glare, crossing your arms. “give me my phone back.”

“answer me properly,” he counters. “do you like taehyung?”

your face scrunches in immediate disgust. “no! he just wanted to meet up and talk. you know, because he helped me with my projects back in middle school, and we were kinda like friends.” you emphasize the words as you uncross your arms, as if reminding him.

jimin sighs and finally lowers your phone, which you snatch back with lightning speed.

“okay,” he relents, “just don’t get too close to him.”

“why?” you deadpan, raising a brow. “because he’s a model too, and you’ve got some secret rivalry with him?”

“because he hurt my best friend,” jimin snaps, his tone sharp, “and i don’t want to think about it.”

you shut your mouth, his words leaving no room for argument. the silence between you grows thick for a moment.

then, finally, you speak up. “whatever. i’m going to watch a movie. don’t disturb me.”

“i won’t, cuz i’m going out,” jimin says, grabbing his car keys from the table.

“with?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

“your mo— wait, shit, we have the same mom,” he mutters, catching himself, and you scrunch your nose in disgust but can’t help the small smile that slips out.

“your crazy model friends?” you fold your arms again,tilting your head.

“yes, my crazy, stupid, but rich model friends,” he grins smugly, “just like me.”

you roll your eyes and turn around, flopping back onto the couch dramatically.

“oh, and jungkook’s coming over,” he says as he heads for the door.

your ears perk up immediately, and you shoot up, blurting, “why?”

“it’s the weekend. he’s gonna sleep over,” jimin replies casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and to be fair, it kind of is— jungkook crashing at your place is pretty routine. but the thing is, he’s always here for jimin, not you. all you and jungkook do is bicker whenever he’s around.

“but you’re going out,” you frown, watching him open the door.

“bro, this is my house, i’m coming back of course. don’t worry,” he says, rolling his eyes like you’re being ridiculous.

“but i don’t—”

“shush,” he cuts you off, stepping outside. “i am gonna be late because of you. take care of the house and don’t fight with jungkook.”

before you can argue back, he’s out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

you stare at the door for a moment, then slump back onto the couch, muttering to yourself.

“yeah, like that’s fucking possible.”

it doesn’t take long for jungkook to show up. the front door swings open casually, and he walks in like he owns the place, not even sparing you a glance. he heads straight for the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like he just ran a marathon.

must’ve worked out.

you hear his footsteps as he walks into the living room, where you’re sprawled out on the couch, pretending to ignore him. well, pretending to mind your own business, at least.

your eyes flick to him briefly, and yep, there he is— in those stupidly attractive gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt that clings a little too well to his body. if you look at him for too long, you’re pretty sure you’ll do something you’ll regret.

nope. not worth it. you’re supposed to be mad at him.

what is annoying, though, is how quiet he has been ever since that conversation with him a few days ago. jungkook isn’t supposed to be quiet around you. if anyone gets to ignore anyone here, it’s you.

selfish? maybe. but it’s just you and him.

it is what it is.

“get up,” he says, standing right beside the couch where your legs are sprawled out. “i need to sit.”

you glance at him briefly and then smile. “there’s plenty of space,” you say, your voice sickly sweet. “outside. in the garbage bin.” your smile drops as you finish the sentence, and his frown deepens, his brows pulling together in a way that— unfortunately, makes him look even better.

even hotter.

“i wanna watch the movie too,” he says, ignoring your jab.

“too fucking bad,” you retort, keeping your eyes on the tv.

the notebook plays on the screen, and for a second, you think of how much you and jimin love this movie and how you all used to watch this movie when you were younger (but old enough to watch it). jungkook always sat through it with the two of you, even though you know it’s not his thing.

“i just came back from the gym,” he starts, his voice edged with frustration. “i could use some rest.”

“go to the other room, then. use the bed to res— hey!”

you’re cut off mid-sentence as he grabs your legs, effortlessly lifting them up. before you can protest, he flips them off the couch, forcing you to sit up as he plops himself down beside you.

he leans back, completely unfazed, and looks at the screen. “thanks,” he says smugly.

“fuck face,” you mutter under your breath, glaring at him.

your hands itch to smack the smirk off his face, but you just huff and turn back to the movie, crossing your arms in annoyance.

you grab your phone, your fingers moving quickly as you text yumi because you genuinely have no idea what to do or say right now.

you: how can this mfker sit here and act like nothing happened!?

yumi <3: he's at yours!?!?

you: yeah, sleepover

yumi <3: where's ur bro

you: out

yumi <3: so u're alone tg 😈

you: help me bae. he's acting like i didn't literally say that i fucking want him?? what do i do

yumi <3: what u always do babe ,, provoke him.

you glance over at jungkook, still seated on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. his jaw is clenched slightly, and your gaze trails down his arm, taking in his tattoos, the way his biceps flex subtly as he rests his hand on his thigh. and that’s when an idea hits you.

without a word, you get up and walk to your room. you don’t notice it, but his eyes flick to you as you leave. his gaze lingers for a second, curious, but he quickly forces himself to look back at the screen.

in your room, you swap your pants for a pair of shorts— really short shorts. short enough to reveal your thigh tattoo.

you glance at yourself in the mirror and adjust them slightly, smirking to yourself.

with newfound confidence, you stride back into the living room. jungkook is still on the couch, his attention glued to the movie. he doesn’t even glance your way when you enter— typical.

you catch sight of the clutter on the glass table in front of him: bowls and empty cups.

perfect.

you move around the couch approach the table from the other side so he can see the tattoo and start tidying up, picking up the bowls one by one, moving slowly, purposefully. you stretch your leg just slightly as you reach for the furthest one, your thigh tattoo now fully visible.

jungkook notices. and oh, you can tell by the quick flick of his eyes, the way his jaw tightens for just a second. but he doesn’t say a word, keeping his gaze locked on the screen like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

you hold back a frustrated sigh, heading to the kitchen to put the bowls away. when you return, he’s still pretending not to notice you, still sitting there as if nothing’s changed.

so fucking stubborn. for what, though?

you stop and take a deep breath, deciding to try again. this time, you walk directly in front of the tv, deliberately blocking his view as you pretend to move things around the room.

he frowns almost immediately. “move out of the fucking way,” he says, voice sharp and annoyed.

“can’t,” you say, keeping your tone light and casual. “i’m busy doing something.”

you cross the room again, back and forth, shifting random items like it’s the most important task right now.

“do it later,” he snaps, the irritation growing in his voice. “i’m watching this,, aren’t i?”

you scoff, turning on your heel to face him. “so fucking what? you’ve seen this movie like, a hundred times!”

he stares up at you, still frowning. “what the fuck do you want?” his tone is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach flip.

you cross your arms, glaring at him. “you know what i want.”

he raises an eyebrow, his jaw clenching as he leans back into the couch. “do i?”

“yes,” you snap as you glare down at him. “don't act stupid, jungkook. you know exactly what the fuck i want.”

he exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand through his dark hair. “i don't know what the fuck you're talking about so just fucking say it.”

you scoff, your brows furrowing deeper. “i did say it. you’re the one pretending like it didn’t happen, like i didn’t tell you—”

“because you don’t mean it,” he cuts you off, his voice low but steady.

you take a step back, stunned for a moment. “what?”

he leans forward now, resting his palms on his knees, his gaze boring into yours. “you’re just doing this to fuck with me, to get a reaction. and congrats, you fucking got one. are you happy now?”

your throat tightens, but you refuse to let him see how much his words sting. “you think i didn’t mean it?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind.

“if i didn’t mean it,” you say, your voice softer now, “then why would i keep doing this? why the fuck would i care?”

“because you like attention, don't you?” he shoots back, his words sharper than you expected. “taehyung, me, whoever gives it to you.”

your jaw drops, anger and disbelief flooding you. “you’re such a fuckin—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off again, standing up now, towering over you. “don’t act like i’m the bad guy here. you’re the one who started this.”

you stare up at him, your chest rising and falling as frustration bubbles over. but you recover quickly, masking the storm inside you with a smirk. tilting your head slightly, you ask, “started what exactly?” your tone is light, almost mocking, daring him to say it out loud.

jungkook’s jaw tightens, his gaze locked on yours. he doesn’t back down, but he doesn’t answer immediately either, like he’s weighing his next move. you can see it— the slight flare of his nostrils, the clench of his fists at his sides.

“don’t play with me, ___.” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

your smirk widens, pushing him further. “am i really? becuz all i see is you getting worked up over nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffs, stepping closer, closing the already minimal distance between you. “you’ve been pushing me, fucking testing me? what the fuck is that about?”

you hold your ground, refusing to back away. “and? what are you gonna do about it, jungkook? keep avoiding it like you always do?”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “avoiding it? you’re fucking crazy. you think this is easy for me?”

“what’s not easy?” you press more, losing patience, your voice softening slightly. “tell me, jeon jungkook. what’s so hard for you?”

his eyes darken, his emotions clear on his face. “stop, ___.” he pauses. “stop pushing me before i—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to regain control.

you feel your breath catch at his words, your heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. instead, you tilt your chin up, whispering, “no.. you need to stop fighting it, jungkook.” you lean in closer, your eyes never leaving his. “it's just you and me right now.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the tension between you is palpable, electric, like something is about to snap. and this time, you’re not sure if you want to continue pushing him.

“shut the fuck up,” jungkook leans down, his breathe getting heavier

you smirk a little, whispering back, “fucking make me.”

and then suddenly he’s holding your jaw in his big, tattooed palm, his lips sear against yours kissing you with passion that you’ve always wanted to feel.

jungkook's hand tightens around your jaw as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a desperate hunger. you moan into his mouth as he pulls you against his body, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

breaking away for a ragged gasp, jungkook lifts you effortlessly into his arms, kissing you again. you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. he puts you down gently on the couch where he'd been sitting moments before. though there's nothing gentle about the way his hands roam over your curves, hiking your shirt up a little.

jungkook pulls back just enough to glare down at you, his breaths ragged, his jaw clenched. his dark eyes bore into yours.

"i hate you," he grits out. his hand grips your thigh, sliding up to press firmly against your skin, sending shivers through your body.

your lips curl into a smirk, your breath hitching as his grip tightens. “do you?” you whisper, your voice teasing, daring him to keep going.

his fingers dig into your thigh, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “yeah, cuz you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so fucking much,” he mutters, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, kissing and biting on your sensitive skin.

a soft moan escapes you, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you arch into him. “yeah?” you breathe out, your smirk deepening. “i like knowing i get to you.”

his eyes snap to yours, his jaw tightening as he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, revealing him your bare pussy. “so fucking bratty,” he mutters.

your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling as his fingers trace over the tattoo etched into your thigh, the one he gave you, the one that still turns him on whenever he thinks about how you teased him during the session.

you and your fucking mouth. he thinks.

his lips hover over your skin, his gaze fixed on the inked design before he lowers his head. his soft lips press against your hip, right where the tattoo starts.

his voice is quieter now, softer as he looks up at you. “does it still hurt?”

“so much,” you whisper, your voice shaky, but it’s clear your meaning has nothing to do with pain.

a smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes dark with intent as he begins kissing along the tattoo, lower and lower. each press of his lips sends a shiver through your body.

his hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as his mouth continues its path, exploring every inch of your skin, lingering on the spots that make you squirm, but not touching the place you desparately need him to.

“you’re so quiet now, ___,” he murmurs against your thigh, his lips brushing over your skin. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a sound. “fuck off,” you breathe out, your words make his smirk grow wider.

his hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his head moves fully between them. his eyes lock onto your bare pussy, and he curses under his breath.

he leans in, his tongue sliding in a long, slow stride over your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. a soft, needy moan escapes your lips, your body already trembling like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever.

because, well, you have.

his tongue moves through your folds with such a delicious rhythm, licking every inch of you. your breathing grows heavier with each stroke, his mouth exploring you like he’s memorizing every reaction.

when his tongue finds your clit, he flicks it expertly, a few quick strokes before sucking on it. the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your mind spiraling into a haze.

“fuck,” you whisper, barely able to form words as his mouth works wonders on you.

he doesn’t stop. his tongue continues to explore you, his lips wrapping around your clit again while his hand comes up to join the mix. two fingers slide over your slick folds before finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his tongue. when his mouth moves lower, licking at your entrance, your thighs quiver, and a sharp moan slips past your lips.

“this what you wanted?” he rasps, his voice rough as he glances up at you, his fingers still circling your clit. your back arches instinctively, your body responding to his touch, and you squirm under him, unable to keep still.

when you don’t answer fast enough, his hand lifts slightly before coming down with a sharp slap to your pussy. the sting makes you whimper, your eyes shooting open as he smirks.

“what’s wrong?” he taunts, his fingers rubbing over your folds soothingly. “for someone who bitches about everything, you're so fucking quiet now.”

he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing you, his movements deliberate as your body tenses.

“wanna cum on my fingers?” he asks, his tone low, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles on your clit.

“y-yes,” you stammer, your voice shaky but desperate. “fuck yes, wanna cum on your fingers,” you moan, your body arching when you feel his fingers slide in.

“shit, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough as his fingers curl inside you, hitting the perfect spot. “dripping so good for me,”

your moan spills out involuntarily, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. your hand reaches out instinctively, gripping his that’s still holding your thigh, your touch shaky but needy.

his fingers pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit in perfect rhythm. the wet sounds of your pussy, with your breathless moans, echo in the room mixed with the movie still playing in the background; filling his head with even more desire. his eyes flicker down to the visible bulge in his sweatpants, hard and straining against the fabric as he takes in the sight of you.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, his movements never faltering. watching you like this; squirming, moaning, completely falling apart— does something to him he can’t ignore. he never thought it would actually come to this.

but he can’t deny it. he’s thought about it. more times than he’d ever admit. even when he tried to push those thoughts away, when he tried to convince himself it was wrong to see you like this, he could never stop. every time you provoked him, every time you pushed his buttons, it only made him think about it more.

and now? now he’s fucking gone. he loves this. he loves having you squirm beneath him.

“f-fuck, j-jungkook, so good!” you cry out, your voice trembling as your back arches off the couch. your brows pinch together, your lips parted, your entire body trembling under his touch. your eyes flutter shut, so close to rolling back, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation he’s giving you.

“yeah?” he breathes, his tone low and wrecked. “you look so fucking pretty like this, so fucking beautiful..” his pace quickens, his fingers pumping deeper, harder, pushing you closer and closer.

“that’s it, just like that,” he coaxes, as his fingers continue working inside you. his thumb presses firmly against your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure, driving you even closer to your release.

your breathing turns ragged, your body trembling beneath his touch as the heat coils tighter in your core. “j-jungkook, i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on your face, watching every expression, every twitch. “fucking cum for me,”

your body tenses, back arching. your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through every nerve. you grip his wrist tightly, probably marking him, your thighs trembling as you ride out the high.

he slows his movements, letting you catch your breath, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he watches you, his eyes dark and full of something you can’t quite place. he gently slips his fingers out, glistening with your release, and you watch, dazed, with your half-open eyes, as he brings them to his lips.

“fuck,” he mutters, licking his fingers clean, his tongue swirling around them as if savoring every taste of you. his gaze meets yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you taste fucking divine.”

“jungkook,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft, not entirely sure what to say.

but.. before you can say anything, your phone starts ringing. both of your heads snap to the table where it’s vibrating.

the contact name reads “hater,” which you both know means jimin.

your eyes flick to jungkook. his expression shifts, and his hands, which were so close to touching you again, retreat. he steps back, leaving you frowning and still catching your breath.

“shit…” he mutters, standing up quickly, like he's guilty. you push yourself up too, sitting on the couch, not caring about the mess or the fact that you're still half-naked.

“are you fucking serious right now?” you snap, your voice dripping with frustration.

he sighs deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “just fucking pick it up.”

you scoff but grab your phone anyway, answering it and immediately putting it on speaker.

“what the fuck do you want?” you hiss.

“woah, who hurt you dumbass?” jimin’s voice is light, teasing.

you roll your eyes as jungkook silently fixes his clothes, avoiding your gaze.

“what is it?” you ask, your tone sharper than you intended.

“tell jungkook i’ll be late,” jimin says casually. “i texted him, but he wasn’t answering.”

jungkook looks around, realizing he left his phone on the kitchen counter earlier.

“is that all, brother?” you say, your voice dripping with fake sweetness, emphasizing the last word

“yeah, sister,” jimin replies mockingly, playing along. “go to sleep, it’s late, and don’t worry about jungkook.”

“care about your stupid model friends instead,” you mutter and hang up before he can say more.

jungkook exhales heavily, picking up your shorts from the floor. he places them gently on your lap, covering you, though he avoids looking at you entirely.

“what now? you’re just going to do nothing?” you demand, your voice rising with frustration.

“shut up, ___,” he says, his tone low. “we went too far. we need to stop. it’s better that we—”

“don’t tell me to shut it!” you snap, your voice breaking slightly. “you liked it just as much as i did! and—” you point at his pants, your eyes narrowing. “you’re still fucking hard, so don’t act like it didn’t mean anything.”

he groans, pressing his palm to his face. “just fucking get dressed. go to sleep.” he sighs. “we’re done here. don’t ever bring this up again.”

his words feel like a slap to the face.

“you’re just gonna walk away?” you askbut he doesn’t respond.

jungkook grabs his phone from the kitchen, heading for the front door.

“where are you even going?” you demand, anger and hurt swirling in your chest.

“out. need to cool off,” he says without looking back and walks out, the door shutting behind him.

you sit there, staring at the door.

this hurts. so. fucking. much.

what the fuck is his problem?

you want to scream, to fight, to get some kind of answer out of him, but he’s gone.

this was not okay. you can't forgive him. too fucking far.

you fucking hate jungkook.

note: wait ngl lmao i think i had a little too much fun w this ,, even though i was crying & trying to make the smut part even better 🥴

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