#like are some women out there feeling GOOD about all of that. like enjoying it

[lovebugism]

Thunderbolts prompt: fake dating with them oh my lordy

ty for requesting :D below you will find four separate blurbs for the thunderbolts (bucky, yelena, john, and bob), each with their own separate summary and warnings! enjoy!!

BUCKY BARNES X READER — you pretend to be bucky's wife to help his image during the election (friends to lovers, pre-thunderbolts but also kinda canon divergent | 0.8k words)

Bucky Barnes never lets go of your hand. He never stops smiling either, at the sporadic camera flashes that threaten to blind him while the elevator doors squeak to a close. Only when the two of you are finally alone, away from the leering eyes of the press, can Bucky take his first good breath of the evening. Only then does he let go of your hand.

You migrate to opposite sides of the small lift and bathe in the welcome silence after a too-long night of shaking hands and people pleasing. Bucky sighs and tips his head back against the wall. “I’m sorry about this,” he mumbles beneath the ding-ing elevator. “Again.”

Despite the ache in your feet from a long night in heels, you manage a small, tired laugh. “You don’t have to keep apologizing, Bucky— Valentina put me up to his, alright? Not you.”

“No, I know, I just…” he trails off with an awkward chuckle, loosening the knot in his tie with two fingers. “I just know you’d rather be anywhere else in the world than here, you know, with me. I know how boring these things are, trust me.”

He tilts his head to flash you a tight-lipped grin, ocean eyes dark and weighed down with a visible fatigue. You give him a much more apologetic look in return.

“Actually, I’m kinda happy I’m here,” you correct and avert your gaze. “I know Valentina did all… this,” you wave your hand vaguely between the two of you. “But if pretending to be married helps you get elected, then I’m happy to do it. I seriously think you could do some good— like, world-changing good, so… I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

Bucky’s chest warms with an unfamiliar feeling. Something fuzzy, like television static or crackling embers — the kind of feeling he only gets whenever he’s holding your hand. It feels strange now, not to be touching you after spending a whole evening at your side.

He flexes his flesh hand and tries to ignore the ache while the numbers on the elevator continue to rise — 27th, 28th, 29th… 

“I know neither of us wanted to be here, but… Out of everyone Valentina could’ve picked, I’m glad it was you.”

“I’m sure you are,” you quip, trying not to be as vulnerable as you feel. “Considering her first idea was pairing you and Walker to go on, like, pretty public missions together.”

Bucky’s face screws. “No, it wasn’t...” he groans.

“Yeah. Like, saving kittens out of trees— Real serious stuff.”

He makes a pained, grumbly noise in his throat. “Well, now I’m extra glad it’s you.”

The two of you exhale soft laughs and stare ahead at the closed doors before you; more specifically, at the bright red numbers above them — 41st, 42nd, 43rd — praying silently that they’ll slow down.

“And even though Valentina did all those for show… You know, the whole married Avengers thing…” Bucky trails off and clears his throat, trying to find the words to say. “Every time we kissed, every time we pretended to be in love… It was real to me. It was always real to me.”

You exhale a heavy breath. Like his words have physically punched you in the stomach. 

“And if you don’t feel the same way, I get it. Okay? I do,” Bucky rambles, preparing himself for an inevitable rejection. “But when all this dies down, whether it gets me elected or not, I’d like to take you out on a real date.”

“No press?” you ask, peering at him from beneath your lashes.

Bucky shakes his head in agreement. “No press.”

“Even if you don’t get elected, and all of this ends up being for nothing?”

“Well, it… wouldn’t have been for nothing.”

You exhale a breathy laugh. “You know, despite what Walker says about you, you still know your way around women, Sergeant Barnes,” you quip beneath the ding of the elevator. 

Bucky’s brows furrow in confusion as the elevator doors whir open. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he calls to the back of you as you step out onto the fifty-third floor.

He doesn’t follow you — equal parts because he feels like his feet are glued to the floor and because his real room is a floor above the one Valentina booked for Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. 

You flash him a look over your shoulder, eyes dolled up and magnetic like a siren’s gaze would be. “It was real to me, too, Bucky,” you murmur, so quietly he barely hears it, then remove every ounce of vulnerability from your being. “Now, do you wanna come in for a night cap or what?”

You walk off before he can answer. Bucky catches the closing door with his vibranium hand and rushes to follow behind you.

You share a bed that night, like many nights before, but this time with the knowledge that everything will be different when you wake up the next morning.

YELENA BELOVA X READER — yelena wants to show her parents that she's doing okay after the death of her sister, and recruits your help to do so (friends to lovers, post-thunderbolts | 1k words)

Yelena Belova’s trying to prove that she’s okay. Alexei and Melina were worried that Natasha’s passing had ruined her, which it had — and that a life without her sister had left her all alone, which it did. But, in an attempt to stave off the weepy conversations and squishy-eyed gazes, Yelena decided to bring a companion to the family dinner. 

You were her teammate, first and foremost, and the only one she could tolerate long enough to pretend to date for a night. And, besides, you were too soft for your own good to deny her of anything.

You were too perfect a choice, turns out, ‘cause her parents end up taking to you like a third daughter.

Yelena groans with her head in her palms when Alexei returns from the bathroom, modeling his original Red Guardian supersuit like he does every time they visit Melina’s country house. The spandex gear was created in the early eighties and smells like it, too. The thing gets tighter every time Alexei shoves on it, but he wears it with a bright smile on his bearded face anyway.

“Still fits!” you exclaim kindly from the kitchen table as the older man poses in the doorway.

“I told you it would!” Alexei slurs in his deep Russian accent. “Forty-one years old, this is! Can you believe it?!”

“Yes, I can,” Yelena mumbles into her shot glass before swallowing its golden brown contents in one go.

You shake your head with a polite smile. “You don’t look a day over thirty, Alexei.”

“Oh, you flatter me,” the man chuckles from the depths of his round stomach, then deflates with a realization. “Ah, drisnya— I forgot the, uh… the…” He trails off, motioning vaguely around his head as he searches for the English word. “The helmet. I just— I ruined this whole thing…”

Melina smiles at the pouting man she used to call her husband (and still does, on occasion). “No, you didn’t, my love,” she coos, voice low as honey. “You look great.”

Alexei shakes his stubborn head, swiping a calloused hand through his long, greying locks. “No, I have— I have to do it all over again. Just… wait. Wait here, da?” he scurries back down the hall, searching for the helmet he’d left behind.

Melina deflates with a sigh. “We’re going to need a lot more alcohol than this,” she mumbles, rising from the table and taking the half-gone bottle of whiskey with her.

“Maybe something a little stronger?” you quip.

The older woman smiles down at you. “Now, you’re speaking my language, solnyshko.” 

You wait until she’s left the room to lean over to Yelena, “What’s sul-nish-co?” you whisper.

“It’s solnyshko—” she corrects in perfect Russian. “—And it means sunshine.”

You smile, warmed by the term of endearment. “That’s nice…”

“Don’t get used to it,” Yelena scoffs and takes another shot. (Her tenth, or maybe hundredth of the evening).

Your brows furrow at her words. You flinch slightly, like they’ve physically pained you in some way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means this isn’t real,” she says, motioning wildly between your bodies. “But those idiots think it is, and they’re getting attached— which means they’re going to wonder why I don’t keep bringing you around— which means I didn’t solve any problems, I just made a new one.”

She points an accusatory finger at you. You blink back burning tears.

“You invited me here, Yelena… I don’t deserve the blame for this…” You turn to your own shot glass, which has been sitting on the table ahead of you for some time now, and finally find the courage to take it. “…Whatever this is.”

Yelena watches with an apologetic look in her eyes as you down the whiskey in one swallow. She can’t help but smile softly to herself when you grimace at the bitter taste.

“You’re right. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry,” she mumbles, so quiet you barely hear it, as she rakes her fingers through her chopped, box-dyed locks. “They’ve just been so worried about me since ‘Tasha died… I wanted to prove to them that I still had someone who cared about me. Even if it was just pretend.”

You smile at the sullen Russian girl. “It’s not pretend, Yelena. You have people who care about you— The entire team would’ve shown up if you asked them.”

Yelena gives you a knowing look in return, doe eyes shadowed with smoky liner.

“Well… Maybe not Walker,” you correct yourself, gaze flitted to the ceiling. “Or Ava… Or Bucky— But Bob definitely would’ve been here, and you know it!”

“Exactly,” the blonde girl says with a soft, gravelly laugh. She fails to meet your piercing gaze and fidgets nervously with her empty shot glass instead. “You’re the only one who cares enough to pretend to like me.”

You feel her tense when you put a soothing hand on her denim-clad thigh. She peers at you beneath her lashes with a shy ocean gaze, chest warming something fierce when you smile. “It’s not pretend, Yelena…”

She falters, unable to tell if your words are some kinda confession or if you’re still just being nice. Her eyes dart across your features, like she’s looking for an answer inside them. Before she can find one, Alexei stumbles in from the bedroom.

“I thought we agreed, no PDA,” the grown man whines, still in his too-tight suit but now sporting the matching helmet. “It’s nasty, ‘Lena, I can’t stomach it.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t stomach you,” the girl retorts instinctively.

You smile in the face of their banter. “You were right, Alexei— It definitely needed the helmet.”

“I told you!” the man exclaims, voice booming as loud as his wide smile. “I told you it made the outfit better— In your face, ‘Lena!”

Yelena shakes her head, but can’t help but smile to herself. 

She figures she could get used to this.

JOHN WALKER X READER — john takes care of you after a mission gone wrong, like the doting husband he's pretending to be (enemies to lovers, pre-thunderbolts, cw for mentions of injuries | 0.8k words)

John Walker is just trying to survive — or, at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. Valentina pairs the two of you on a mission nothing short of life and death. “You’ll draw less attention as a couple,” the woman smiled, passing you an envelope with a forged marriage license and two golden wedding bands inside. “Trust me. You guys are pros at this— What could go wrong?”

The answer to that question was easy: everything.

It was good until it wasn’t. John posed as a business exec Monday through Friday, nine to five, where he would then return to his ‘house’ in the suburbs with a cold beer and a home-cooked meal waiting for him. White picket fence, rose garden, backyard with a pool — the whole nine yards. As far as he was concerned, the only problem was having to share it with you.

You pretended to be his housewife. You went to book clubs, pilates, and over-priced grocery stores, all in the name of fitting in with the rest of the Stepford wives around you. While John got close to the bigshot CEO that Valentina wanted dead, you played nice with his wife — pretty, a little stupid, and satan reincarnate. 

It went on like that in an unforgiving cycle. You received intel in the name of petty gossip and found ways to busy yourself until Walker got home; you had parties, get-togethers, and barbecues to blend in with the community, pretending to love each other all the while.

It was nothing short of your own personal hell. 

The mission was inevitably a success, though not without a couple casualties. You and Walker managed to make it out with a couple scrapes, a few bruises, and only a single gunshot wound — which isn’t so bad, all things considered. 

You think you’re taking a bullet to the stomach much better than your faux-husband is.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking idiot,” John mumbles under his breath as he stitches your weeping wound with careful hands. 

He only managed to stop panicking when he got you to the safe house. Before then, you thought he might cry. You would’ve made fun of him for it if you'd stayed conscious long enough on the ride here.

“Wow,” you scoff, tilting your heavy head against the pillow to glare at him. “Your bedside manner is impressive, Walker. Truly.”

John’s face twists with a palpable irritation. “You don’t get to make jokes right now, alright?” he grouses, snipping the remaining thread from your sutures.

You laugh despite the stinging in your side. “Why not? I think now’s a perfect time, honestly—”

“Because you almost died!” John shouts over you. 

“What the fuck do you care?”

“Uh, because we’re married,” he monotones like it’s obvious, flashing the wedding ring on his left hand, now stained with your blood. 

“No, actually, we’re not—” You wince when you try to sit up. John reaches for you on instinct, helping you prop yourself on the pillows he’s piled beneath you. “—And I’m totally divorcing you when we get home. Just, by the way.”

“Trust me. The feeling’s mutual,” he deadpans, towering over you as he wipes the blood from his hands on a towel. “But we’re probably gonna be stuck here awhile. Valentina’s not getting in a hurry to send any backup, so…”

“What a fucking bitch…” you sigh and tip your head against the bedframe.

“We only have to play husband and wife for a few more days. Think you can handle that?”

“It wasn’t so bad…” you shrug, eyeing John with lidded eyes as he rounds the mattress to the right side — which had, over the course of eight months, become his side. He sits down gingerly, careful not to make any sudden movements that might hurt you. You melt into his warmth on instinct, leaning your shoulder against his broader one. “…Until you got me shot, anyway.”

“Hey, you did that yourself— No one asked you to protect me.”

“Sorry for saving your life, you idiot.”

“I’m a super soldier!” he laughs. “I can take a hit! You can’t!”

“I think I took it pretty well, actually,” you scoff, face screwed in offense.

“Yeah…” John sighs despite himself. “You kinda did.... Just don’t let it happen again.”

“But I like watching you dote on me,” you joke, tilting your head on his shoulder to see him better. 

Your noses nearly brush at the proximity between you, which would border on romantic to virtually anyone else. But, for the two of you, it’s your job — and you’ve gotten used to playing your role to perfection. Being close to him now is like muscle memory. 

“You don’t have to almost die for me to take care of you,” John chuckles. “You know that, right?”

You shake your head. “No, actually. I didn’t.”

“Well…” John shrugs. “Now you do.”

It’s just as much of an admission of love as the blood on his hands from patching you up, or the bullet fragments in your side from shielding him from gunfire. All the rest of it goes unsaid.

ROBERT REYNOLDS X READER — you and bob pretend to date because it's easier than trying to convince everyone you're just friends (friends to lovers, post-thunderbolts | 1.2k words)

Robert Reynolds didn’t want to be alone, and neither did you. The decision to attend Valentina’s wedding together was as mutual as it was unsaid, just like most of the time you spent together. 

You haven’t been apart since the day you found him in New York. At first, it was just babysitting — making sure he didn’t turn half the city into a shadow again — but then you grew rather fond of his company. And eventually, neither of you could stomach being without the other. So you never were. Ever.

It was all completely, utterly, and unequivocally platonic, but the rest of the team convinced themselves otherwise. After a year or more of constant prying, it just got easier to let everyone else believe what they wanted. And, besides, pretending to have a boyfriend got you out of a ton of unwelcome social interactions. 

The team wants to get a beer after a mission that totally drained your social battery? Oops, sorry, I have to get home to Bob before he thinks I’m dead.

Old acquaintances from high school want to hang out with Bob now that he’s quote-unquote famous? I wish I could, but my girlfriend’s super sick. Maybe another time?

You and Bob were best friends and nothing more. But sometimes pretending otherwise had its benefits.

“Isn’t wearing black to a wedding bad luck?” Bob mumbles as you enter the elaborate dining hall side-by-side. (Valentina’s wedding had only two rules: all guests must wear black, and absolutely no kids.) It made Bob nervous, as most things tended to.

“It’s her fourth marriage,” you shrug. “It’s basically a funeral, anyway.”

You’re bombarded on entry by Alexei, who by the looks of it, had already pre-gamed in the Avengers Tower before coming.

“Ah! It’s the lovebirds!” he shouts, voice booming over everyone else’s. He turns to a total stranger passing by and motions to the two of you. “Aren’t they cute?” he asks the strange man, who just gives him a weird look in response. Alexei smiles anyway. “See? He agrees with me.”

“I don’t think he does…” Bob murmurs sincerely.

“It’ll be your turn next, eh?” Alexei chuckles, hitting the boy hard on the shoulder. Bob flinches under his tattooed hand despite being the most powerful Avenger the world’s ever seen. “Getting married. Being all… married.”

Bob hesitates, looking to you for an answer ‘cause he’s never been the best liar. You just smile, like it all comes too naturally to you. “Only if you promise to officiate the wedding,” you croon and wrap your left arm around Bob’s right one.

Alexei’s smile ebbs into a look of shock. His eyes go soft around the edges, filling with tears at the kind gesture.

“There would be no greater honor—” he tells you, Russian accent deep in his throat as he takes a step closer. He holds Bob’s wrist in one hand and yours in the other, shaking them for emphasis. “—Than uniting the two of you in marriage.”

You realize how seriously he’s taking it and start to flounder. “Well, you’ll be the first one we tell, Alexei,” you mumble awkwardly and slide your hand from his grip. “I promise.”

You’re dragging Bob away before the man can go on another half-drunken rant about a faux relationship and a wedding that will never happen.

You weave through the bustling crowd, hands instinctively entwining to stay together. 

“Do you think anyone would notice if we left?” Bob mumbles, nervously adjusting his tie with the hand not holding yours.

You look around, then shrug. “I don’t think I care.”

You end up sneaking into the kitchen before cocktail hour even starts, stealing a tray of sweets on your way to the wine cellar. Bob trails behind you like a lost puppy, distantly fearful of getting caught (because his omnipotence has yet to cancel out his perpetual anxiety.)

He paces back and forth while you try to pry the cork out of a vintage Merlot.

“I’m starting to feel bad,” Bob blurts suddenly, sweaty hands wringing into knots.

“Why?” you scoff with your mouthful, chewing through a tart chocolate-covered strawberry. “It’s just wine. No one will even know it’s missing—”

“No. About… lying to everyone.”

You freeze with half a strawberry still wadded in your cheek. “Oh…” you mumble, then swallow the rest of it down. You adjust the wine bottle between your anxious hands and stammer for a response. “Do you wanna… Do you wanna stop?”

The concept of stopping is slightly foreign to you. You've gotten so used to pretending to date him that sometimes you forget you're not actually dating.

Bob pauses his pacing to shift his weight on his feet. He shakes his head and answers honestly, “No. I don’t wanna stop, I just… don’t wanna lie.”

It’s a confession, albeit a vague one. He eyes you with a wide, attentive gaze and prays you get the hint. He can tell, by the sudden fearful look on your face, that you do. 

Your eyes flit to the ceiling as you smack your lips against your teeth, as though deep in thought. After a moment or more of silence, filled only by the distant swelling of violins, you nod. 

“Okay,” is all you say as you spin on your heel and turn away. You can’t face the vulnerability, so you choose to pick your battles and search for a cork screw for the impossible-to-open wine.

“O-Okay?” Bob stammers, nearly stumbling over himself to follow behind you.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I mean, we were already kind of doing it, so… We’re basically halfway there anyway, right?”

Bob’s sigh of relief comes out like a laugh as he leans against the counter beside you. “I just… I didn’t think it’d be that easy,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest in a feeble attempt to still his racing heart. “I would’ve asked you out forever ago if I did.”

The cork exits with a low, smoking pop. You inhale the scent of bitter grape as you bring the heavy bottle to your mouth. “How long have you been planning this?” you wonder with a laugh before taking a lengthy sip.

“Not long,” Bob insists with a shy shrug. “Maybe about… a year?”

You nearly choke on the dry wine. “So… Since we met?” you press, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Uh—” Bob trails off, voice an octave higher than usual, as his eyes dart to the ceiling. He tries to do the calculations in his head, but the days have all blurred together since the Sentry Project. All he knows is, at the very least, that he’s been in love with you since the day he met you. “—Yeah. That sounds about right.”

“Here,” you blurt, offering him the too-expensive bottle of wine in your hand. “I think you need this more than I do.”

You can’t help but falter at his admission — that all the time you spent together wasn’t just pretend. Not entirely. 

Every time you held hands in front of the team, cuddled on couches during movie nights, pretended to make out beneath the blankets so that whatever unfortunate team member was sent to recruit you for an early morning mission would leave the two of you out of it — some of it was actually real.

You can rest easy now knowing that you weren’t the only one who’d somehow fallen in love along the way. 

It was all Bob’s fault, really. 

But he’s more than happy to take the blame.

[remmickrealgf]

Okay so I just wanna make a post clearing up my other post about my opinion because some people might be confused or even offended and that was never my intentions.

For starters when I originally came on here to make Remmick fanfics it was always gonna be a vague reader insert. I wasn’t going to make the reader any race because personally I wanted anyone and everyone to read my fanfics on here. In my opinion I actually think reader inserts should mainly be non-descriptive and vague as possible so people can feel included. As a writer I don’t know what any of my readers will look like. People may be black, white, or any race for that matter and I wouldn’t know so I usually always never describe the reader insert.

However, after all the discourse and drama on here and seeing that many black people were feeling left out and not included for a movie that’s made for them more than anyone I thought to myself, “damn, maybe I can be that one person pumping out fanfics for us.” And so that’s what I did. If you look on my blog you’ll find a fanfic that’s not descriptive at all for any race because like I said that’s normally what I do. But I decided to lock in and put out content for my people.

Also, I am not racist. I don’t hate white women. That’s what I was just accused of from an anonymous question which really annoyed me because that’s not why I made the post. That person completely skimmed over what I wrote and it truly shows. Like to be honest I really don’t care about white people making white reader inserts especially if they tag it. Now if they don’t tag, well YES!! I’m going to be annoyed, especially if their fanfic had interesting tags and sounded good to read I’m going to be salty. Why? Well, simple cause I just can’t enjoy that. I’m literally black, why would I or other black people wanna read something like that or any other poc for that matter.

So, in conclusion, if you are white and wanna make white reader inserts go for it but please guys tag it. Just tag it and no one will literally care. But in my opinion I think making the reader inserts vague is a great thing to do. I want anyone to read my stuff cause that’s just how I am. But for now I’m going to continue making black reader inserts because why not and when I feel like making vague ones again I’ll do that too. Anyways no hate to anyone especially people who are just having fun and aren’t being disrespectful, please don’t think I’m trying to start drama with yall. Hell, I’m literally here to have fun, simp for characters and write.

[livingdeadmlm]

you know those young ladies who bath Arthur in the game, when you go to a hotel/saloon and pay to use their bath tub? male reader assuming that position for X reasons, Morgan being freaked out in a positive way that another guy (younger than him, but obviously +22) is going to touch his naked body, then reader ends up consensually giving Arthur the best hand job he has had in his whole life…

had a dream exactly like this and I don’t think I’ll forget it anytime soon. had to share it with someone mb

So real for having a dream like this anon I had a dream of Javier a bit ago and I’m thinking about writing it but it was a while ago 💔 I was a tailor working on some clothes he came in laid it on heavy and things got crazy on a vanity idk! But here we go lol!!

You worked only the night shifts, spending your hours in a dimly lit side room with the other bathswomen. It was a space filled with smoke and laughter as you all exchanged stories and idle chatter to pass the time.

Most nights were average, with only two men coming through, making the hours feel long and unproductive. Fridays, however, brought a welcome surge of activity; on the best nights, you had as many as ten men coming in.

But tonight was Wednesday, and the air felt heavy as everyone waited. The clock ticked steadily when, finally, the hotelier knocked on the door

“There’s a gentleman in room two. Get to him soon!” The women groaned; room two was code for wanting a Bathman instead of a woman.

You rolled up your sleeves and undid the first few buttons of the shirt. There were a few “ooos” and giggles as you stepped out into the hallway. The shirt was pretty fancy, made of a silky material that hung just loose enough around your frame to fall forward when you leaned down.

You looked at yourself in the foggy metal plate of the door. You knocked twice. “Do you need any help in there?” There was a moment of silence before the man said, “Sure, why not?”

The room was warm and steamy. You stepped over the abandoned clothes on the ground. The man's head was resting against the tub, his eyes shut.

‘He’s very handsome,’ you thought as you perched on the tub and began to wash his hair. The suds from the soap slid down the sides of his head.

“What’s a big man like you doing out here so late?” The lather of the soup was thick, the man seemed to enjoy the work of your hands, and his head leaned back completely. “Just ran into some bad luck recently. Needed to take a night for myself.”

You rinsed the soap off and adjusted your seating to be more comfortable. “It’s real good to treat yourself.”

Your hand slowly traveled down to his broad shoulders, massaging the muscles as the man sighed and opened his eyes. There was a shocked look on his face when he finally looked at you and spoke, “Yer a man?”

You could feel your heart sink. Had somehow a man managed to accidentally say the code word and wind up with a man? “I am… I’m sorry. I’ll leave and get you one of the girls instead.” Your voice was shaky; you were fearful of the potential anger this man could be feeling by being touched by a man.

You tried to stand quickly, to get out of the steamy room as soon as you could. But his hand caught your wrist. “Hey, now I didn’t say I was upset, just,” he waved his hands, “surprised.” You nodded slowly and sat back down.

Beginning to wash his arm, he sank more into the water.

“I didn’t know men had these jobs.” He was back to his usual talking tone, and you relaxed and chuckled, rinsing off the soap bubbles.

“Men have always been working these places, mister.” You reached across his chest, trying to ignore just how much you wanted to stare at the way his skin was glowing. “Just the first time you’ve seen us.”

The man hummed and sighed, “I think I’m liking the fellers more, you’re using the right amount of pressure.” Massaging the knots in his back would take you a lifetime, but you hesitated on his legs, favoring to clean his neck and chest before going lower.

“Course I use pressure, not like you’re exactly, fragile, mister.” This was a big mistake, running your hands across his chest, his pecs were well-formed but soft under your fingers. How distracting.

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

You lightly squeezed his chest, “It’s not like you’re exactly made of porcelain, Mister Morgan.” He laughed, an excellent sound as he kept eye contact with you.

“You touch all the men like this?” The water splashed slightly around him, “just the handsome ones.” You grinned and poured warm water across his chest.

“If I ask for more, is that extra?” Your heart stuttered. You really weren’t supposed to, but the hotelier said what happens behind the doors doesn’t concern him unless you’re hurt. And the only thing that hurt now was passing up the offer of getting to see a handsome man come undone.

“For you, Arthur, it’ll be on the house.” You whispered as your hand dipped into the water, slowly trailing his stomach as his breathing picked up.

You felt the weight of his hard dick, taking it into your hand and feeling his stomach tightened at the contact.

“Yer—hands, they’re real—real-soft,” Arthur groaned, a faint shiver of pleasure escaping him as his lips trembled when you settled into a steady rhythm.

The gentle lap of the water around your arm created a soothing white noise, softly enveloping the room and partially muffling Arthur’s sounds.

“Thank you, mister,” you replied, your voice steady and warm. As you focused on the task at hand, you couldn't help but notice the way the light danced across his face. The way his chest glistened thanks to the water.

You chewed on your bottom lip as Arthur's head lolled back. His eyes screwed shut as your thumb gently circled his tip. “You’re real handsome, Arthur.” Your voice blends seamlessly with the tranquil ambiance. It made Arthur's mind melt, getting so much attention from a younger man, no less, was more pleasurable than he’d ever fully admit.

But it was evident to you as his hips lifted in tandem with your strokes.

Arthur let out a soft, broken chuckle, his voice thick with both surprise and delight. “You’re gonna kill me talkin’ like that,” he murmured, words nearly lost in the wet hush of the bathwater and the low creak of the tub. On one hand, calloused from years of rough work like most men who'd wandered in here, reached out, unsure for a moment before resting lightly on your arm, his touch reverent, grateful.

“I ain’t tryin’ to kill you,” you said with a small smile, thumb brushing gently the prominent vein on his dick making his whole body jolt. “Just makin’ sure you feel good. You deserve that.”

His breath hitched again your words went straight to his cock you effortlessly took care of, but it wasn’t just the physical contact that unraveled him—it was the kindness. A quiet sort of intimacy he hadn’t realized he’d missed until now.

“Don’t reckon anyone’s said that to me in a long time,” he admitted, moans interrupting his sentence, eyes flickering open, soft and unsure as they found yours.

You leaned in a little, your face close, your voice even softer. “Well, they should’ve. I see you, Arthur. And I like what I see.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak. Just looked at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. Then, with a drawn out quiet grunt, he came with a weak thrust into your grip. He pulled you just a bit, forehead resting against yours. The warmth of the bath water surrounded him like a thick blanket, but the heat between you that left him breathless.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he whispered. “Reckon I’m lucky tonight.”

Your hand lightly trailed back up his chest, groping his supple skin along the way. You could feel his heartbeat through his hot skin; the rhythm was steady and hard.

“Mmm, long as I’m here, you're lucky as often as you'd like, cowboy.” You kissed his cheek, and the stubble on his face poked your lips.

His hand didn't quite let go as you walked away with a sway to your hip. He'd almost follow you out of the bath if he didn't need to dry off and redress.

Stepping into the hallway, you gasped for air. You needed some fresh air urgently.

Speeding outside the hotel, your manager asked where you were going.

“Handsome men are so suffocating!” All he did was wave you off with a sigh as you stepped out.

You were almost painfully hard as you took a drag of your cigarette. Arthur Morgan. You'd have to remember that name.

He was the first man in a long time to make you feel like this.

To make you feel so eager to please, almost making you forget this job is all for money.

Shit

The money.

[vintage-bentley]

I don’t “identify” as a woman, just like I don’t “identify” as my eye colour. Both are just things that I was born as, they’re not something I feel the need to make into an identity or to express somehow.

I know that sex is just about what reproductive parts we have. Why are you sorry that that’s all it means, when that simplicity allows so much freedom? Gender comes with strict roles. I’ve seen people defining “identifying as a woman” as identifying with femininity, or with being comfortable with misogyny, or with identifying with female gender roles/expectations. That is so restricting! I’d much rather consider myself a woman because I’m female, and have that say absolutely nothing about me except for my biological reality. Just like any other physical thing about me.

You’re assuming that everyone cares about “gender expression”. Some people don’t give a shit. For most people, we aren’t thinking about what outfit expresses our “gender” the best—we’re thinking about what outfit is most physically comfortable. We aren’t thinking about how to hold ourselves so that it validates our “gender identity”—we’re just being ourselves. I cannot stress how unimportant “gender expression” is to me. As I said already, my being a woman (adult human female) tells you nothing about me except my biology. Everything else about me is my personality, and it’s unrelated to my sex.

I care when people claim that they’re challenging sexist ideas, but end up enforcing them instead. The gender abolitionist view is that gender = sexist stereotypes. We should do away with that concept, and just be left with sex, which says nothing about a person just like any other physical trait of theirs. The gender identity view is that sexist stereotypes are good, as long as you get to pick which ones you adhere to. Even the concept of “nonbinary” enforces sexist stereotypes, as it places everyone else in a binary. It implies that there’s a limit on men and women’s gender non conformity, and once that limit is surpassed, one is considered nonbinary. I would much rather there just be no limit at all, and for everyone to just do whatever they want without any concern about what category it puts them in.

In simpler terms:

Conservative: there are two boxes, and you are born into either one and cannot change

Gender identity: there’s limitless boxes, take your pick!

Gender critical/abolitionist: get rid of the boxes

I’m glad that you’re also a lesbian and aren’t coming from a place of disgust with female same sex attraction. But do keep in mind for the future that it’s a page right out of the homophobe book to imply that a lesbian thinks women exist for her sexual pleasure, when she’s really just talking about her own personal preferences.

Anyway, the original post is just me saying that gender non conformity in women is attractive, but sexism is not. I love when women defy sexist stereotypes. I hate when they say “because I’ve defied sexist stereotypes, I’m Not A Woman.” which then implies that woman = enjoying sexist stereotypes. Which isn’t true. Woman = adult human female. That’s all. That definition leaves so much room for so many different ways of being. As opposed to gender identity based definitions, which are restrictive as they rely on stereotypes.

GNC women are so attractive until they have a gender identity. Then, instead of seeing a confident woman who’s comfortable being who she is, I see an insecure woman playing pretend. I see a performance instead of authenticity. And if that’s what they’re going for, power to them. But I think most of them genuinely think they’re giving “gender” and “sexy masc twink man”…when really they’re giving “I want you to think I’m cool so badly so I put on a costume and am going to pose like I think men do”.

[writerfae]

For the Hand of a Prince

An alternate au short story

Cheers erupted in the arena. Talon wished he cold be anywhere but here.

Having to watch this spectacle from the ranks would’ve already been draining enough, but unfortunately Talon had it even worse, being one of the very contestants that were the cause of all this applause.

They were a couple of young men and women, all from a (some more, some less) noble background, about to fight for what most of them would consider the chance of their life.

They were the lucky people that got to compete for the hand in marriage of a prince.

Talon didn’t feel lucky at all.

Something stirred in his stomach.

His armor was too tight, the cheers way too loud, the thought of what he was about to be a part of too strange.

This whole thing made him sick.

His father had probably dreamed of this opportunity ever since Talon was born - or rather since two months after, when the prince himself was born.

Marrying his son off to a prince would be the biggest gain in status he ever could wish for, especially after his first arrangement- the marriage of Talon’s sister - had turned out to be… less of an advantage than he imagined it to be.

But Talon didn’t share that dream.

He didn’t want to be here. Not at all.

He only did this because he was expected to, because of his unfortunate weakness of not being able to say no to his father, giving in to his urges to take part in the competition for the good of the family.

He cursed himself for it.

Not only was Talon very much not interested in marrying someone that he didn’t even know - prince or not. He also didn’t like the whole concept of the competition he found himself in.

This wasn’t just some fun feast activity, nor a tournament for fortune and fame - they were fighting over an actual person.

One that probably had as much of a say in this arrangement as Talon had in competing in the tournament.

No one knew for sure, but rumors from within the palace walls said that the prince was not exactly happy about his family’s plans for him.

That makes two of us, Talon thought. This was going completely against his morals.

He felt sorry for the boy. And for himself too.

It’s not that he thought he would win, after all he had quite some competition and even though he was a fairly good fighter, there surely were people more talented, more determined than him.

But even just participating felt wrong. And the thought of putting all this effort in for nothing - and he had to put in effort, his father would immediately recognize it if he held back on purpose and scold him - was tiring as well.

Though he was probably expected to, the prince himself wasn’t at the arena to witness the start of the competition. And he most likely wasn’t going to turn up later either, if one believed the rumors.

Watching a couple of people in armor participate in fights and challenges in order to win your hand in marriage - a marriage you (allegedly) didn’t even want - didn’t seem really appealing.

So Talon couldn’t blame him, he wouldn’t have shown up either in his place.

His disgust over the whole situation would probably outweigh his curiosity about the possible marriage candidates.

Maybe the prince felt quite the same.

⚔️

The first round had already weeded out quite some competition. Much to Talon’s dismay, he himself was still there.

Now he waited for the next round. Single entry. And he thought things couldn’t get any worse.

While the other contestants mingled with each other, Talon stayed for himself. He preferred it that way.

The other contestants were all spoiled children of nobles and he never quite enjoyed the company of those.

“You’re a spoiled son of a noble yourself,” his friend Maya had teasingly retorted as he told her that once.

She was right, and maybe that was part of the problem.

Either way, he was content with staying where he was. He preferred observing the people around him anyway.

Most of them had normal conversations, some joked with each other, discussed the happenings of the competition so far and, of course, talked about the prince.

But then there were also the ones that took the whole thing way too serious.

Of course, all of them wanted to win over the prince (all except for Talon) but these people acted like they already won and worst of all, like the prince was a medal they wanted to pride themselves with.

Talon found that quite impertinent.

Already from the distance, just watching them act and hearing their loud voices, he could tell that most of these contestants were not really the kind of people that you’d want to marry.

Poor prince.

Unfortunately, those were exactly the people that were high up in the ranks of the competition right now.

The worst was a guy in dark armor, a mountain of a man that had impressive fighting skills (that Talon had to admit) but the personality of a particularly annoying rash.

Kilian, if Talon caught his name right. Not that he needed to know that.

He boasted about his own skill and looks (though in Talon’s opinion there wasn’t much to boast about with the latter), talked about how he would wipe all of his “rivals” out and “make the prince his”.

That claim was followed by quite some nasty stuff he said about the prince and Talon felt sick.

He was tempted to go over to put that guy in his place, but he didn’t want to start a fight behind the scene. There were enough of those already, silly quarrels like those of kids fighting over a toy.

Besides, Kilian was already called to the start for the next round. With a complacent grin on his face and practically glowing with arrogant confidence he made his way back outside the arena.

Talon was tempted to trip him up as he passed him, but refrained from it.

This guy would probably kill him if he did it and if he didn’t, Talon’s father sure would if he found out about it.

Instead, Talon let his eyes wander through the room again.

He paused when his gaze caught a guy not too far from him that he’d seen backstage before, but hadn’t payed much mind to.

He wore brown leather armor that was far more simple than the armor of the other contestants, Talon’s included.

He still wore the ceremonial helmet each of them had to wear during the tournament, even though most participants had taken it off behind the scenes.

It covered half of his face, hiding away most of his defining features except for his eyes and mouth.

The latter was currently tugged into a small smile as he was kneeling next to a rather distraught looking girl, talking to her in a quiet voice while soothingly rubbing her back.

Talon recognized her as one of the girls that provided for the contestants, bringing them food and water and helping them with their armor.

Some young woman had yelled at her earlier for spilling wine on her armor by accident.

The sight of the foreign knight consoling the poor girl made Talon feel a twinge of sympathy for someone in this place for the first time since the tournament had begun.

The guy, as if sensing he was being watched, turned towards Talon and for a moment their eyes met.

Talon felt himself nod to him, why he couldn’t quite tell and he didn’t question it. Neither did the knight apparently, because he simply returned the gesture before turning back to the girl.

Talon wondered who the guy was and why he hid his face behind his helmet. Because Talon was pretty sure he wore it for exactly that purpose: to hide.

Maybe he didn’t want to be recognized. But why? Talon had no clue, the only thing he knew was that this guy was different than the other contestants.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was definitely something there.

Maybe it was the kindness he showed to the girl just now, a kindness Talon had not seen in any of his other competitors, who treated the maids like air or something to look down upon.

But before he could ponder on all these thoughts too much, his name was called and he had to ready himself for his big entrance in round three.

With a sigh he stood up, put on his ceremonial helmet and grabbed his sword.

On his way outside he passed the unpleasant guy from earlier, Kilian, who had just finished his challenge.

Given the applause and screaming of the people and even more so the self-satisfied smile on his face, Talon reckoned it went quite well.

What a shame.

“Good luck,” the guy said. “You’ll need it to compare to me.”

Talon only rolled his eyes at that.

⚔️

When he came back, Kilian was still boasting with how well he did during his challenge. Talon wanted to leave right then and there.

He should’ve let that animal he needed to fight just now eat him or something.

But he didn’t let it happen and he didn’t perform bad enough to be immediately kicked out of the competition, so instead he sat back down on the very same bench he had occupied earlier, taking off the helmet and unsuccessfully trying to drown out the boasting.

“That guy is horrible, isn’t he?” A voice next to him suddenly said.

Talon flinched, looking to the left, only to find the knight in the simple leather armor from earlier, the one who consoled the maid, standing next to him.

Talon could only agree. “The worst. But he himself thinks he’s the greatest man alive, I fear. His ego is so big it could fill up the whole arena.”

The knight chuckled at that. “That sounds about right. May I?” He gestured to the place on the bank next to Talon.

Talon nodded. Though he didn’t care much for socializing with the other contestants, for this one he would make an exception.

He seemed to be the most decent person here.

“Thanks.” He sat down next to Talon. “I saw you fight just now. You’re good. Better than lord big ego over there.”

Talon didn’t know why, but that compliment made him blush. Just a little, but it did.

He hoped the knight didn’t notice, but given by his smirk he probably had.

“Thank you.”

The knight nodded.

Talon still couldn’t see his face because he wore the helmet, but from up this close he at least got a good look at the other’s eyes.

They were of a brown as warm and deep as he had ever seen them, mirroring the kindness of his smile.

Talon cleared his throat. “So why do you wear the helmet all the time, you’re the only one I’ve never seen taking it off.”

Due to his helmet one couldn’t really tell, but Talon swore the guy raised an eyebrow at that.

And then there it was again. That smirk from before. “Have you been watching me?”

Talon looked away quickly, hoping he could blame the pink of the tips of his ears on the effort from his last challenge (he could not).

“I’ve been watching all of you. It’s just a simple observation.”

“Trying to weigh out the competition, huh?” the knight asked.

Talon wasn’t sure if it was amusement or mockery that he heard in the other boy’s voice. Either way, the implication in it was clear and it was also clearly wrong, so he shook his head.

“I have no interest in winning this tournament, so weighing the others out is of no use for me.”

That seemed to surprise the knight. “You don’t want to win? Then why are you here?”

Good question, Talon thought. He sighed.

“Because my father made me. Personally I want to compete just as much as the prince wants to get married to one of us, probably. I just want to please my father and hope someone turns out to be better than me. More worthy of the prince, too, though the prospects for him are probably not the best, looking at who’s competing - no offense.”

The knight remained quiet for a long while.

He just looked at Talon, head tilted, those intense brown eyes of his unreadable. For a moment Talon thought he had indeed offended the knight, but then the other boy’s eyes softened.

“I wear the helmet because I fear of being recognized. I’m not like you or the other contestants.”

Talon had noticed it too. He was different - in a good way. And he was correct about this too: the knight indeed wanted to hide.

“I’m not of noble blood - well, not exactly. People would not like to see someone like me to compete for the hand of a prince. I am very much acting against the will of many people and some of them are here and would know that I’m doing it if they saw me - they’ve met me before, even if they don’t know me that well. So you understand why my true identity has to remain a secret.”

That sounded to Talon like the knight was the illegitimate child of some nobleman . Or maybe a civic-born guard. Both of those were not allowed to compete, apparently in the eyes of their law only legitimate noble-blooded people were suited for a prince.

Which was stupid, Talon knew many men and women of that status that were very noble, even more so than most of the people in this room.

So now that secret was revealed. Only one question remained. “Why are you telling me this?”

The knight shrugged. “Maybe because I’m a little nervous about keeping this secret and sharing it with someone eases my mind. And because I’m sure you won’t give me away like the others would’ve done.”

The knight was right with that. Everyone else would’ve run to the guards, glad to be able to get rid of a competitor. But Talon had nothing to gain from it. Quite contrary, because after all he could need every strong opponent he could get.

Telling on the other would put both of them in an unfortunate situation. The knight understood that. He was smart, Talon had to admit. He liked him.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

The knight smiled. “See? I knew I could count on you.”

⚔️

They kept talking after that.

First about the tournament and the other contestants, but then about all kind of other stuff. About fighting techniques, weapons, about their lives and families - though the knight kept his stories very vague in that regard.

Talon found the boy to be easy to talk to. He was pleasant company. Only once did they interrupt their talk so that Talon’s new acquaintance could face his own challenge of the round.

Talon snuck a view on the other’s skills from the sidelines and was very impressed.

That boy was an incredible archer. He never missed a target, leading the bow with such grace and control it seemed like it was an extension of himself. He was good. Very good.

It only confirmed to Talon that despite not being of noble blood, he surely had had something akin to military training. And it made some of the self-centered competitors look pretty old.

⚔️

“Your skill is impressive,” Talon told him as he returned and the two sat back on the bench, waiting for someone to come and confirm the end results of this round.

“Thanks.” The knight bit his lip, seeming a little on edge. “I hope it was enough.”

Over their newfound companionship he had almost forgotten, but these words brought the reality of their situation back to Talon.

The young man next to him, much like everyone else (or well, almost everyone else) was here to win and gain the prince’s hand in marriage.

He was just as determined as the others, even if it was a softer determination, one that didn’t seem as smug as that of competitors like Kilian, the massive guy with the even more massive ego.

“I need to win this,” the knight continued, voice dropping to a whisper. “It might be my only chance of a good life. It’s not about the marriage or the prince or the power, really. It’s about me. About my freedom. And it’ll seem selfish to you- and by the gods, maybe it is, but I think it could be an opportunity for him, too. So please don’t condemn me for wanting this.”

Talon didn’t know what to say to that. Part of him was disapproving of the other boy’s ways but part of him also understood his motivation.

He couldn’t blame him for wanting a good life. Who didn’t want to be free? And though Talon might define freedom differently than the knight, he still thought it was something he deserved, like everyone did. Even if his way of fighting for it was unusual.

The other boy looked at Talon, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

Talon gave him a small smile. “I can’t say I full agree with you, but I understand. Everyone here wants to win the hand of the prince, except for me. And you have a good reason, it seems, So I can’t blame you, really.”

The knight seemed relieved to hear that. He reached out to squeeze Talon’s hand lightly, his touch warm and gentle. “Thank you. I had hoped you’d understand.”

Talon could feel the other’s touch even after he had already long removed his hand.

Trying hard and probably failing to hide the blush that started to paint his face red (again! how embarrassing!), Talon was glad that the other boy had moved his attention away from him and towards the announcer that had appeared in the middle of the room, reading out the names of those who had made it to the next round.

The knight’s name (probably fake, Talon realized) was among them.

And Talon’s too.

Great, he thought, just great.

For a moment he thought about quickly using his opportunity to tell the announcer that he would quit, leave the arena and pretend in front of his father that he hadn’t made it.

But the boy next to him was so relieved about reaching the final that he pulled Talon into a hug that made his brain short-circuit for a while and when it functioned again, the announcer had already disappeared into the arena to read out the names of the finalists and announce a quick break.

Well, there went his chance. At least now he could spent some more time in the pleasant company of his new acquaintance. Talon didn’t mind that at all. It was almost enough to make him forget that he didn’t want to be here in the first place.

⚔️

“So, why don’t you want to marry the prince? Do you think he’s that bad?”

The question caught Talon so off-guard, he almost spit out the water he just drank from their shared (yes, shared, Talon could hardly believe it himself) flask.

Why would he think that? He had no aversion towards the prince, none at all. If anything, Talon’s sympathy for him was one of the main reasons he disagreed with the ambitions of the other contestants.

He must’ve stayed silent for a little too long, because the other boy rowed back immediately.

Talon could’ve just been imagining it, but he swore the knight flushed slightly. It looked pretty and Talon wanted to slap himself for thinking that just now.

“I mean, I’m just curious,” the other said, sheepishly. “You said so yourself. Everyone here wants to win the hand of the prince, except for you. There must be a reason for it?”

Talon felt like that question wasn’t as light as it seemed, there lay some kind of importance in it, but what was important about it, he couldn’t grasp.

“Yes,” he finally said. “But the reason is not that I don’t like him. I barely know him - who does, really - but he seems quite alright. It’s because… it feels so wrong, you know. All of it. The prince is a boy just like us. He shouldn’t be a trophy to be won, he should be free to choose who he will marry for himself.

And so should I. I don’t want to marry just for status and I certainly don’t want to marry someone who had no choice, who’s with me because he has to be and not because he chose me freely. We both deserve better.” He sighed. “Maybe I should just quit. Mess up on purpose.”

His father would be mad about it no doubt, but at this point Talon didn’t even care all that much. He’d get over it eventually. Better that than risking to win.

The knight smiled. “Well, the way I see it, the prince wouldn’t have if all that bad if you won. You seem quite alright too. Far more decent than some of the other choices.”

He looked over to where two other contestants were just getting into a fight over who was the better archer, his mouth twitching into an expression of distaste.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he added. “I’d still very much prefer to win myself. I’m selfish like that, but like I said, it’s important to me for personal reasons and I think the prince would approve of it. I know it sounds insolent and you may forgive me for that, but I’m pretty sure it’s true. Just as I am sure he would like you.”

Talon really wondered how he wanted to know that.

“You speak like you know him personally.”

The knight seemed amused. “I do, actually. Dare I say that I know him better than most people.”

“Are you two friends?”

The knight smiled.

“Something like that.”

“Lovers, then?”

That would be an explanation. Talon wasn’t sure how to feel about it though. Not in a million years would he admit that the thought stirred a little bit of jealousy inside of him. And not because of the prince.

The knight laughed. “Well-“ But before he could say whatever he wanted to say, a voice announced that the final round was about to begin, calling for the contestants to come to the arena.

The knight stood up, resting a hand on Talon’s shoulder while he did so. It made Talon freeze right in his tracks.

“Don’t mess up,” the knight said, adjusting his helmet. “You have potential. If somehow I won’t make it, I’d be glad to know that there’s at least a chance that a good guy like you wins this competition.”

He clapped Talon’s shoulder. “Good luck.” Then he left. Talon was too stunned to follow right after him. Or to reply with a good luck of his own.

You have potential.

That small sentence shouldn’t make Talon feel the way it did. He didn’t know what he’d do once he stood out there with his last opponents. With him. He didn’t know what would happen. But it would be interesting for sure.

After a short moment of recovery, he sighed and made his way back into the arena.

⚔️

The last challenge was a classic. A fight. Last one standing won.

Talon stood there with his sword in his hand, and his helmet pulled down low in his face and would much rather be back behind the scenes, having a nice chat with the knight in the simple armor.

Who now stood not too far from Talon, glancing towards him for only a split second before the starting signal sounded.

Talon had no time to question it, because there was already another opponent running towards him, ready to attack. It was Kilian.

Unfortunately, his sword was just as big as his ego. Wonderful, Talon thought. Just wonderful.

That guy would tamp him to the ground. If he wasn’t quick enough that is. Luckily he was pretty deft and that other guy moved with the agility of an overweight bear.

Talon dodged him just in time. A constant back and forth of parried attacks and clashing swords ensued.

While Talon had a great deal of trouble with Kilian, not too far away his new acquaintance had already wrangled his opponent to the ground. Talon shouldn’t have risked the glance, because Kilian used his inobservance to push him to the ground.

The big guy grinned and Talon braced himself for the inevitable.

They were not supposed to hurt each other, just to activate the amulet that got attached to their harnesses beforehand, which would release the spell that would keep the defeated opponent from standing up. But Kilian looked like he was out for blood.

The expected blow never came, though, because suddenly someone jumped on Kilian’s back, tearing his head back and making him tumble backwards. It was the knight.

Perplexed about the fact that his new acquaintance had come to his rescue, he watched Kilian trying to fight the other boy off. As Talon watched him struggling to hold on, he finally remembered to move again, getting involved in the fight of his last two opponents.

And so, Talon and the knight fought Kilian together.

For outsiders, it looked like Talon was trying to get involved in the fight with the intent of bringing one of them down, but attentive watchers might’ve noticed that all he did was help out the knight.

Talon wanted him to win. He finally had a plan. Make sure the knight defeated their last opponent and then let him defeat Talon as well.

And then, finally, the knight managed to activate Kilian’s amulet, which made the other scream in anger.

Breathing heavily from the struggle of that fight, the knight stood up, turning around to face Talon.

He was tired, Talon could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t used to this kind of effort in the way that Talon was, who was a fully trained guard and well-tried in combat.

If Talon wanted to, he could’ve beaten the other, that he was sure of. He could, but he wouldn’t. They both knew that. Fast as a deer on the run the knight came running for Talon, who barely made an effort to stop him, letting him pin him to the ground.

The other boy leaned over him, looking right into his eyes with an expression so tender that from now on, it would certainly hunt Talon in his dreams.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Almost gently he pressed the tip of his knife against the amulet on Talon’s chest, breaking it.

The unleashed spell washed over Talon like a gentle blanket. A fanfare sounded of, announcing that there was a winner of the tournament. The crowd cheered.

Talon was glad it was finally over.

As the spell lifted, he let out a sigh of relieve. He took the hand that the knight offered him to help him up. The other boy was smiling brightly and it made Talon smile, too.

He was just about to open his mouth to congratulate him, when both their attention was taken off of each other by the voice of the queen sounding through the arena.

“Very well fought, my dear finalists. Come closer,” she said, standing up from her place on the balcony.

And come closer they did. She asked the winner of the tournament to step forward. Talon next to him noticed that the knight’s hands were shaking a little.

If out of fear or excitement or nervousness about his identity soon to be revealed he didn’t know. But he guessed it was a mixture of all three.

Talon for one couldn’t wait for him to finally take off that helmet, to finally see his face. A face that soon he’d only be able to admire from afar, but that he would admire for the rest of his days nonetheless.

The knight took a deep breath, and as the queen asked him to take off the helmet, his hands had stopped shaking.

He stood a little taller - proud almost - reached for the helmet, took it off and made the whole arena gasp - Talon included.

The unknown knight with the brown leather armor and the kind smile - the one that had captivated Talon in only such a short amount of time - was no one less than Prince Aiden himself.

The one for whose hand they’ve all been fighting all along. He was here after all, in the arena, among the contestants. And he had just won his own hand in marriage.

I need to win this. It’s about me, about my freedom.

Now Talon understood the true meaning of those words. And he understood the other’s motives. The prince had been competing for the right to win his own hand in order to be free of an arranged marriage with whoever else might’ve won this tournament if he didn’t interfere.

Talon couldn’t help but admire the prince’s courage. He really didn’t want to be in his position now though. His grandmother, the queen, didn’t look all too happy about this turn of events.

She was clearly shocked, like all of them. Well, most of them. Only the crown prince, Aiden’s older brother Henry, didn’t look surprised at all.

A proud smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down on his brother. He must’ve known too.

The queen had yet to find back her speech, it seemed, so Aiden quickly used his chance. He bowed deeply in front of his grandmother.

“My queen, I, Prince Aiden from the House of Crows, hereby ask of you for my own hand in marriage. I have won. Like it was purpose of this tournament, I have proven myself worthy. Worthy of myself. So now I ask for the right of free choice. I want to determine myself who I want to be with in the future.”

He spoke with such passion and confidence, hope sparkling in his brown eyes. Talon wondered how anyone could ever say no to him when he was like that.

Well, shit. He might’ve developed a little crush on the prince of all people.

“That is against the rules,” someone loudly proclaimed. It was Kilian, who Aiden had clearly defeated fair and square and who, to no one’s surprise, really, was now throwing a tantrum.

“It is a violation against the conditions of the tournament, your majesty! I demand a rematch. This is unacceptable.”

The only thing unacceptable in Talon’s eyes was his behavior right now. No one liked a sore loser.

“With all due respect,” Prince Henry came to stand next to the queen to tell the big guy off. Judging by the cold tone of his voice, said respect must’ve been close to none (and Talon could only silently agree with it).

“Technically it is not a violation. Nowhere in the rules does it say that it’s forbidden for a prince to compete in a tournament, even if it’s one for his own hand. Every acknowledged noble has a right to participate. And Aiden, as your prince, is one.”

Her other grandson’s comment seemed to get the Queen out of her state of shock. She whipped her head around to face him. “You knew of this, didn’t you?”

The older prince grinned. “What do you think who trained him?”

The queen sighed, massaging her temple. “You boys just love to make things hard for me, just like your mother,” she mumbled.

Then she turned her attention back to Aiden. “Well, despite this rather unusual outcome,” there was a scolding undertone in her voice as she spoke.

“A win is a win and a word is a word. Prince Aiden, you have beaten every one of your suitors. We all witnessed that and it was truly admirable. Everyone who saw it has to admit that. And therefore - even though I would appreciate it if you don’t publicly pass me over like that in the future…“

Talon wasn’t sure if he interpreted it right, but something akin to pride mixed into the strict tone of her voice. Prince Aiden scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“… I acknowledge your win and give in to your request.”

Gasps and whispers were heard from the crowd. No one expected the queen to let her grandson’s deceit slide, and no one dared to speak out against her.

Surely there were gonna be people who would be outraged. Conservative nobles like Talon’s father and noblemen furious their child didn’t win the hand of the prince (also probably like Talon’s father) would at least try to change the mind of the queen, but they wouldn’t dare to do it in public. They remained dead silent.

Others, who supported the prince - and there were many, because he was fairly popular - started to cheer. They were happy for him, it seemed. And Talon was too.

Never in a million years had he thought the tournament would end like this, but it was the best possible outcome. Though, now that he got to know the prince a little, even if unbeknownst to him at the time, he found that he wouldn’t have minded it all too much after all if he had won the tournament.

The prince himself smiled brightly. He bowed to the queen, thanking her. She returned the smile, even if only slightly.

That was the first time Talon ever saw the queen smile at all, he didn’t know she was capable of that.

“However,” she said, and the crowd went quiet again. “I have a condition for you.”

“Yes, my queen?”

“You get to choose your future spouse freely - among the contestants of this tournament. I understand and accept your wish of choosing a partner for yourself, but I expect them to be of a suitable status.”

Another fit of reactions rang through the crowd at the announcement. Everyone waited for the prince’s reaction.

He remained quiet for a while.

Talon turned to look at him, just as curious about his reply as everyone else (maybe even more), only to find him already looking back at him.

As their gazes met, Aiden smirked. His eyes not leaving Talon’s, he replied “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

No, never had Talon thought the tournament would end like this.

But as he left the arena side by side with the prince and their hands kept brushing, he found that he didn’t mind it.

He didn’t mind it at all.

⚔️

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[corrcdedcoffin]

soulmate | jj maybank

bsf!jj x reader

request: JJ seems like he’s into people for their souls, not their outward appearances. I don’t have anything specific but maybe some fluffy fluff (slight smut?) of bff JJ (who seriously wants) reader, and readers having a shit day. Maybe feeling down on herself and her looks? He makes her feel better. And beautiful. 😍

summary: you're having a bad day, and jj is there to fix it.

warnings: 18+, smut (unprotected sex, oral m+f, p+v), kissing, alcohol consumption, jj is down bad

note: i know the request said slight smut but i got carried away.. oopsies! enjoy

It was just one of those days. The kind where nothing is going your way - all the clothes you feel good in are dirty, your hair won't cooperate, nor will your makeup. Your sweater pocket keeps getting stuck on door handles, and to top it all off, you look like you just crawled out from a grave. 

And with just your luck, your friends were waiting for you outside, early, for the first time ever. 

You let out a frustrated huff, looking in the mirror and trying to put on a convincing enough face that you were fine, maybe convincing enough that 'just tired' is a good enough excuse, should anyone say anything. 

Of course, no one did say anything. At least not at first. It wasn't until later in the night when JJ had come to sit with you, asking if you were doing okay. He was always the first one to notice when you were feeling off. Or maybe he was the only one who really gave a shit. You couldn't tell. 

"I'm fine, I swear. Just tired s'all" you lied through your teeth. Normally it would've worked, but JJ knew you better than that. 

"Come on, you should know better than that, lyin's a sin" he jeered playfully, earning a half assed smile from you. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever" you rolled your eyes, avoiding giving an actual answer to him. 

He watched you closely, eyes slightly squinted and his head tilted to the side. He reminded you of a cat, watching with evident wisdom beyond his years. He hated seeing you so down, and he'd be damned if he didn't try to ease your woes. 

"Seriously, you can talk to me. Full animosity: I'm the priest in the confession stand" he teased, earning a more genuine smile out of you. It was hard not to smile when picturing him dressed as a priest. 

You sighed, staring at the fire in front of you and speaking lowly so the others wouldn't hear you from the porch. "S'just one of those days" you shrugged. "It started miserable and hasn't gotten any better."

"What happened?"

You shrugged again. "Nothing went right from the start. Woke up late for work, no time to get ready. Boss was on my ass all day. Didn't have enough food at home for a proper dinner, no hot water when I showered. My hair wouldn't cooperate and my makeup looks like ass. All my clothes fit me weird and I look and feel like the undead."

"No you don't, you look great" he said, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. 

"You don't have to lie to make me feel better, J. Friendship is about honesty" you scowled at him. 

"M'not lyin'. You're beautiful, always. Even if you don't feel like it" he stated, looking at you in a way that made you slightly nervous. "Scouts honour" he added, holding up his fingers. 

You scoffed, "Yeah, that's why every date I go on ghosts me after."

JJ's eyes widened at that, and it didn't go unnoticed by you. "Exactly" you said, as if it proved your point. 

"Then they're idiots, all of them. I guarantee it has nothing to do with how you look and is just because you scare them with your wit and brains. Boys don't like when women are smarter and funnier than them because it hurts their ego, and you're smart as hell."

You couldn't help the smile forming, even if it was miniscule. "Thanks, J."

He hated seeing you so down on yourself. To him, you were it. You were his dream girl. Smart, funny, a little bit reckless but you always kept him in check. You were passionate about the things you loved, and you were never afraid to speak your mind. You were one hell of a woman. 

It wasn't until after he thought it that he realized he said it out loud. Your jaw was agape, shock written all over your face. His palms began to sweat, afraid you'd yell at him or slap him for his confession, but you didn't seem mad. Not even disgusted. You looked.. awestruck. 

"Walk me home?" you asked. 

He was surprised, but he nodded silently. He shifted restlessly in his seat as you walked into the porch to say bye to everyone, letting them know he was walking with you.

It was silent for the first little while, both your minds running a mile a minute. JJ was worried he'd ruined your friendship, and he couldn't stop fidgeting with his hands. It was starting to drive you nuts.

"Stop worrying" you spoke softly, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. 

"M'tryin'" he replied. "Jus' don't wanna lose you."

You turned to him, giving his hand a light squeeze. "You won't."

When you'd arrived at your apartment, he was ready to say goodnight and leave, and fight with himself the whole way back to the Chateau. He wasn't expecting you to invite him in to hangout a while longer. 

You'd brought a cheap bottle of wine from the kitchen, offering him a cup. It was old, plastic molding to the shape of Tweety Bird's head, and he couldn't help but chuckle. You put on some background music in hopes to ease the tension that built up between you, debating on bringing it up. 

"I'm not sorry" JJ broke the silence. "I meant everything I said. I think you're beautiful inside and out, and I think I'm in love with you, but I know you don't feel the same and that's fine. I just don't want it to ruin our friendship, because not having you in my life would be really shitty and--"

He stopped when you climbed onto his lap, eyes going wide. His hands instinctively went to your hips, giving a light squeeze. You were nervous, but knowing how nervous JJ was, it was easier to take control.

"Kiss me" you said, and he didn't waste a single second before pressing his lips to yours. 

It was better than he ever imagined. Your lips were buttery soft, and tasted like cocoa lip balm. You cupped his face with one hand, the other tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as you slid your tongue into his mouth - he couldn't help the small moan that escaped him. Or the tent forming in his pants. 

What started as an innocent kiss turned heavy. The sound of your lips smacking was louder than the music, and you couldn't help but grind on him, moans escaping the both of you. 

"Wait--" he broke the kiss, grip tightening on your hips to stop your movements. He didn't want it to end, he'd waited forever for this moment, but he had to make sure it was what you wanted. "I am loving every second of this, trust me, but I jus'-- Is it what you want?"

His eyes were full of lust, but he also looked full of doubt. 

"I want this. I want you, J. I have for a while, I just never knew you felt the same so I didn't act on it" you admitted. 

"You sure?" he breathed out. 

"Positive" you confirmed, slightly rolling your hips against him before leaning in to kiss him once more. 

Your breathing picked up with the pace of your hips, and he couldn't take it anymore. He held onto you tightly and stood up, carrying you to your room and placing you gently on the bed, not breaking the kiss once. 

He ground into you, trailing kisses down your neck as he slowly lifted your shirt, lightly scratching at your sides. You took it off before sitting up slightly to remove his. He cupped your face with one hand while unclasping your bra with the other, trailing his fingers up your arm and across your collarbone before gently squeezing your breast. 

You worked on his belt and unbuttoning his pants as he kissed you all over. 

His kisses trailed down, down, down, stopping below your navel as he pulled your shorts down, letting them fall on the floor. He sat up and removed his pants, both of you staring at each other in your underwear. 

JJ moved down, grabbing your foot and placing a soft kiss just above your ankle, working his way up, holding eye contact the whole time. He massaged your thighs, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he placed a kiss to your clothed clit. He rubbed slow circles over it as he sucked on the inside of your thigh, enjoying the way you squirmed at his touch. 

Slowly, he slid a finger beneath your panties, gliding it up and down your slit before circling your sensitive nub once more. He watched as your breathing picked up with his touch, relishing in the way your jaw dropped when he slid a finger inside. It was slow, teasing and torturous and so, so good all at the same time. 

He could tell you were getting riled up. He hooked his hands in your underwear and pulled them down, making sure to leave them near his shorts so he could save them for another time. He dove back in, tongue wide and flat as he licked up your slit, circling your clit before sucking lightly. The moan that you let out made his dick twitch, and he couldn't help but work relentlessly to hear you make that sound again.

You gripped the blanket beneath you, looking down to watch him devour you only to see him already staring. 

"Oh my god," you muttered, "You're really good at this."

JJ took that as his opportunity to insert his finger again, pumping slowly a few times before adding another. He curled them upwards, reaching a spot you could never get on your own, making you shudder. 

You'd never finished so fast before. 

It surprised you how quickly it happened, and you felt embarrassed for a moment, but JJ didn't let it stop him. He kept going. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before. 

You gripped his hair and pulled him up, kissing him as you pushed him over so you were on top. Palming at him, you followed his actions and kissed down his neck and torso before pulling his boxers down. Inching down, you came face to face with his cock. 

He was big. Bigger and girthier than you'd expect, and you couldn't wait to feel him inside you. 

You licked him from base to tip, swirling your tongue around before taking him in your mouth. His moan was like music to your ears. You bobbed your head up and down slowly a few times, pushing your hair out of your face. 

He pulled it all back for you, keeping a tight grip but not forcing your head down. 

You added a hand to the mix, twisting up and down as you bobbed your head, swirling your tongue at the tip every so often. 

"Fuck," he breathed out, gripping your hair a little harder. "Stop, I don't wanna cum yet" he begged, twitching beneath you. You slowed your pace, keeping his tip in your mouth as you lightly worked him with your hand. 

"Baby, please" he begged, eyes squeezed shut. 

You moaned at the pet name, then took his whole length in your mouth one more time before letting it out with a soft pop, climbing up his body and watching him with awe. He already looked so fucked out, and you never wanted to forget it. 

"C'mere" he whispered, pulling you close and attaching his lips to yours. 

He could feel your heat just above his dick, absentmindly bucking his hips towards it, nudging your clit and making you gasp. You lowered yourself down, allowing him to grind against your slit as he palmed at your ass. 

His tip prodded at your entrance, and you couldn't help but start to slide down. 

"Shit," he breathed out, "I don't have a condom."

"It's fine, I have an IUD."

"You sure it's okay?" he asked. In response, you slid all the way down to the base. 

"Mhmm, it's very okay" you nodded. 

You stayed still for a few moments, letting yourself adjust to his size. You'd never felt so full before. Your hands were spread on his chest as you slowly started to ride him, holding eye contact as best as you could. 

You were driving him insane. The pace was slow, he could feel every part of your walls wrapped around him like a warm hug. 

He sat up to kiss you, wrapping an arm around your waist and thrusting into you from below. There was a constant string of moans between kisses from the both of you, and when he unhooked his arm from your waist to rub at your clit with the pad of his thumb, the moan you let out was pornographic. 

"Holy fuck" he groaned, admiring the way your skin glowed with the light layer of sweat, highlighting the curves of your tits and down your stomach. 

Sex with JJ was different than you'd thought it would be. Of course, you knew of his reputation in high school, but that was high school. You were in your twenties now. You weren't really sure what you expected -- maybe that he'd be like other guys and barely pay attention to your needs. That he'd cum quick and be done. 

You were sorely mistaken. 

He liked taking his time. Learning what made you squirm, what areas got him more of a reaction than others. He was attentive, patient, and definitely the best fuck you've ever had. Your body felt like it was on fire in the best way possible.

This wasn't just sex. It was more than two people just trying to get off - it was full of unspoken emotion and years of longing.

"You feel so good" you moaned, fingers tangling in his hair and scratching at his scalp. 

"Fuck," he grunted, "So do you. You're so tight."

"You're so big" you replied. 

He moaned at that, definitely letting your words go to both his heads. 

Your walls began to pulse around him, signaling you were getting close again. JJ laid back and picked up the pace on your clit, thrusting into you harder and deeper. You rest your hands on his thighs, squeezing as your orgasm shook your whole body. 

JJ was in heaven, watching you cum all over his cock, head hung back and jaw dropped low. Your tits bouncing with his rhythm. The moan you let out was pornographic, he couldn't help but cum right after you, and you didn't stop until he was jerking with overstimulation. 

Climbing off of him, you laid on your back to catch your breath. JJ turned to you with a smile, tucking your hair behind you ear and tracing his thumb along your jaw, then your lips. 

He came close and kissed you long and slow, then went to get a rag to clean you up. 

Putting his boxers back on, he searched your drawers for fresh underwear for you, and grabbed you an oversized shirt to sleep in - smiling when he realized it was one of his. He remembers when he gave it to you after a day at the beach. You'd been walking back to the Twinkie and had your shirt in your hand, he remembers you saying you hated when your swim suit got your shirt wet. Then Pope and John B started roughhousing, John B bumped into you and you dropped your top in a dirty puddle. He gave you his to wear home.

Climbing back into your bed, he pulled you into his side, running his fingers along your arm until you fell asleep. God, you were so beautiful. He couldn't believe he was here, in bed with the girl who owned his heart. He was the happiest man alive.

When he woke up in the morning, you weren't in bed. His heart dropped momentarily, until he heard you in the kitchen, music playing softly, something sizzling in a pan. 

He didn't bother to get dressed, walking out in his boxers and leaning in the doorway, watching you. Your hair was disheveled, you still weren't wearing pants, and he could just barely see the mark he left on your inner thigh. "Mornin'" he greeted, a sly smirk on his face. 

You turned to him with a smile, "Good morning star-shine."

"What's cookin' good lookin'?"

You rolled your eyes with a smile, showing him the pan of French toast. He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You turned, giving him a proper kiss. 

It felt so normal. As if this was a daily ritual between the two of you. 

He toyed with the ends of your hair, giving a little tug before looking you in the eye. "I love you."

He was so sure of it. In fact, he'd never been so sure of anything in his life. And when you said those words back to him, he wasn't so worried anymore. You were everything he'd ever wanted, and he knew right then and there that one day, he was going to make you his wife.   

like & reblog!

[gideonisms]

straight women are so fascinating to me I want to study them under a microscope. Today this girl on instagram said she loves the first few weeks with a guy when he makes her feel so feminine but after that he "turns her into her dad" and other women were in the comments agreeing. I have to admit that I'd previously assumed very few people would ever want to be treated like they were feminine but I'm listening and learning

[evangeline-huntington]

She felt silly for how much she giggled around him! But it was so easy, when they both took jabs in equal measure, when he treated her like one of his own family, when it was clear their bond rooted deeper than most siblings of blood relation. Hanging onto his shirt sleeve, she buried her face in his shoulder as he teased her about sneaking another bite, trills of laughter spilling out like water overflowing in a vase of flowers. "Nooo, I made it for you!" she laughed inside a feigned whine, seeing the bowl pushed toward her and taking a big, unladylike lick off the top, no spoon necessary.

Evie swept her arm through the crook of his elbow and locked her hands together. A sentimental man, he couldn't disguise the glassy tears around his eyes if he tried. He was all heart, no matter what the world tried to take from him or instill in him. His own softness betrayed him, and she was gentle with it, nodding to his question. "Of course," she answered. "If you're half the man you think you ought to be, you're already better than most." His tears got the best of her, and she became stern. "Stop that, right now. The more you worry you're not enough the more right you become. It's not a time to wonder about that - just do it, and you'll be father enough. You enjoyed one night of passion and Juliet's doing all the work. So, buck up and stop feeling sorry for yourself, all right?"

Pride wasn't the right word. Humility, perhaps - what she felt at being part of his and Juliet's little life. She adored his partner with equal might as she loved him, a good, good woman with a strong backbone and understanding eyes. Evie would never tell him, but she often daydreamed about their someday-families growing up together - holidays at the shore, with their children running amok (hers causing mischief, his trying to get them out of it), trips to museums and balls with little ones in tow, spouses on their arms, growing older and wiser and sillier through the years.

He mentioned adopting children, and for some reason, her heart sank. A hand thoughtlessly found its way across her belly - if she did bear children, would it be a favor from a friend? Or would she truly have to sacrifice it all, to save her family from ruin?

Evie managed a smile in return, but when she looked up, she realized tears had welled in her eyes, too. "Maybe."

Then he poked her in the nose and she was giggling all over again, sniffling the tears away. His accusation took her jaw to the floor, eyes bugging out twice as wide and four times as lightened. "The nerve of such an assumption!" she gasped, swatting him upside the back of his head with a laugh. "Just because I can appreciate the company of an accomplished woman does not mean I'm in love with every sodding one of them! For that and your insolence, you shall never lay a sorry eye on my masterpieces."

The conversation turned on her again, and she shook her head, deflated. "Come on, now, Ollie, you know that can't happen." They'd talked about this before. Evan was a lost cause - always either unwilling to entertain marriage to an older, rich woman, or did his part and completely turned them off with his attitude. It had always been up to her - and until women started being as rich as men, that was that. "Stop pretending, will you? My parents are old and they can't work like this forever. I've got no choice. Marriage will be an economic necessity for me. I'm just biding my time until I can stomach the truth, and while I'm still young enough."

slipping into evie’s presence was as comforting to oliver as curling underneath a cozy blanket after a long, but rewarding day. her jovial demeanor made his soul beam with delight — she’d been such a ray of light in oliver and juliet’s journey, her love and support was constant, never-changing, and she kept the couple warm — physically and emotionally — in the midst of adversity. he loved her to the ends of the earth, and he knew he’d laugh alongside her until his very last breath.

“if you’d only asked for a bite like a grown adult would, i’d have happily shared,” he teased, gently nudging her shoulder as he held his bowl of ice cream out for her to have another scoop. her giggle echoed across the shop in the most infectious of ways, causing a roar of laughter to slip through his lips. it was true, they were utter children — one of which would have a child of his very own soon. and how terrifying, yet thrilling that very thought was.

he knew that even though his child might never know monetary wealth, it would be so rich with love — the love story that was oliver and juliet’s would be intertwined with their child’s every breath. and juliet — his juliet — would be the most incredible of mothers. her fierce adoration knew no bounds — much like a lioness. and oliver was determined to give his juliet and their child the best life — a safe home, never ending love, and endless laughter. a huge part of him, though, ached to give them financial stability and he doubted he would ever be capable of doing so. nevertheless, a giddy grin tugged on the corners of his lips as he thought about his future.

oliver’s gaze found evie’s, sentimental tears brimming in his eyes as her words washed over him. “evie,” he mused, reaching over to squeeze her hand for a moment. “do you really think so? i can only hope i’m half the man my father was.” his voice dropped as he quickly sniffled away his tears, “i’m terrified i won’t be enough for juliet or our baby.”

again, her laughter seemed to ripple through his chest, causing him to giggle — quieting himself only after he’d shoveled another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “it could happen,” he raised a brow, a smile on his lips, “who knows…you could adopt a dozen children overnight and they’d live off of love and ice cream. what better fate?”

as much as he jested with her over the ice cream he had already had three helpings of within the last hour, he’d happily give her all of it if she so desired. but, it have to be his next helping — because before he knew it, he’d all but licked his bowl clean. “you love taking care of us,” he poked her nose before a twinkle danced in his eyes. lady grant. he knew evie well enough to know when a crush was blooming in her chest, even if it was one that she, herself, wasn’t aware of yet. “painting lessons? and are you quite smitten with lady grant teaching you?” a playful wink before he grew serious, eager for evie to know he was proud of her. “soon i’ll be singing from the mountaintops that i knew evangeline huntington before her name was on everyone’s lips from london to paris.” leaning back, he felt his body rest against the case behind him as he smiled over at her, “i’m proud of you, evie. truly. i’d love to see your work soon.”

oliver looked at her, eyes filled with adoration for his friend, his bonus sister, “i have not a doubt in my mind that you’ll be married soon enough to a woman who makes you happy. genuinely happy. and i can always be your co-conspirator in finding you that woman.”

[drcabcde]

The 12th Doctor drives me insane because his episodes have some great moments and occasionally I find myself actually enjoying what's happening but then you get hit with the sledgehammer of Moffat's misogyny any time a woman appears on screen and it's exhausting to sit through

[unnonexistence]

just started reading book 3 in this series and page 1 is taking no prisoners hgdshdslk

[punkcherries]

everyone whittled me down and i watched arcane. it was alright

[showyoumyfavoriteobsession]

Roughly once every four years I ponder the alternate timeline where I didn't get scared and quit college rugby after a single practice

[specsthesecond]

🃏👑🃏

You were married off to the king as a young noble woman. The arrangement was rather rushed in your opinion, not that anyone asked for it. The king only needed a show queen, a quiet but present symbol for the kingdom and you suited well enough for that.

He didn’t need a wife for pleasure, he had plenty mistresses for that and he seemed to be in no rush for a successor. You suspected it was because he had no intent to hand over power to anyone else anytime soon. Although, that's just what you assumed, others never blamed him for it. You were always the target of the hushed whispers and silent accusations of infertility, unruliness or even infidelity when it came to the subject of an heir.

The people's gossip aside, it was an easy marriage. You didn’t have to share a bed with a man you didn’t love and you didn’t have to raise his children. Many more deserving women would kill for such a life, which only made you feel worse about the utter discontent you felt. It was the loneliness, mostly. Such a privileged life and yet not a single companion in the world to share it with.

The king and his advisers only speak to you when they need you to make an appearance as queen. Their orders always dripping with condescension and near mockery. They’ve made you smile and wave for hours, waltz until your feet blister and recite a holy text’s worth of pompous poetry, but this most recent ploy was particularly concerning.

You sit on your throne next to your husband, hands in your lap, staring at the colourful figure in front of you. The bells on his ridiculous hat jingle as he bows his head so low they almost touch the marble floor. Quiet chuckles emit from the nobility crowding the massive ballroom and the unease in your stomach only builds.

When the jester picks his head back up, you can’t help fiddling even more with your dress, just like your husband's advisers have scolded you not to. The jester silently stares with his sheet white face, big red grin painted across his mouth. You want to shrink under the jesters stare, the blue diamonds painted over his eyes make his gaze feel piercing.

The king grins when he catches your nervous gaze.

“Do you like your surprise, my love? I thought you could use some cheering up lately. As did my advisers.”

He chuckles, looking over at the old men in the corner of the room. They smile back, amusing in a joke you're not a part of.

You just nod your head as politely as possible. You don’t know what's happening, but whatever they have planned can’t be good.

The jester skips up to where you and the king sit. He gives an exaggerated curtsy to the king, earning a laugh from him and the various nobility.

The bells jingle as he springs back up and steps closer to you. He stretches his hand out, you stare at it and then back to your husband.

“The fool wants a dance, my dear. Give him a dance.”

You try to hide the apprehension on your face and reach for the jesters white glove-covered hand. He doesn’t squeeze or pull you up like you expected, instead he holds it gently, waiting for your next move. You rise from your throne and cast one more glance at your husband, who only offers a self-satisfied grin in return. This whole time all they've wanted from you is a perfect queen and now they want you to dance with a fool?

The jester walks you to the middle of the room, encircled by leering nobility. He places your hand on his waist before dramatically correcting the mistake and placing it on his shoulder instead, looking bashfully to the audience who snicker at the joke. He takes your other hand in his and gives you a little nod before the musicians starts playing and he guides you into step.

Now obviously you know very well how to dance, you enjoyed it quite a bit when you were little although, now it’s just become another part of your queenly duties. Did any of that even matter now? Now that it’s clear the king and his peers see you as just as much of a joke as the man you’re waltzing with.

Your deep thoughts are broken when said man unexpectedly twirls you in a dizzying circle. You flail slightly in your surprise but you’re brought back into his arms just as quickly to continue your steps. You fully focus on him now and you wonder what his features look like under that gaudy clown makeup. Even in the bright chandelier lights of the ball room, you can’t make out the colour of his irises. Earlier, you thought they were hazel but now it seems they're an impossibly dark brown.

The dark pools look as if they could swallow all the colour from his face and your own. Actually, has he blinked even once during this dance, or at all for that matter?

You’re not sure if it was your mistake or the jester’s but you step on his foot and he suddenly pulls away from you. He clutches his foot and jumps up and down in theatrical pain. The room bursts into laughter, bellows and cackles. These elite men and women delight in the humiliating performance you’re both putting on for them. It takes everything in you not to cave right there in the middle of it.

While the jeering continues, you try your best to steel yourself, replacing the need to cry with spiteful compliance. If they want a dance, they can have a dance.

You curtsy at the jester, offering an apology and hold your hand out to him. He looks around and then points to himself. You can’t help but smile and nod your head.

He takes your hand and when the music starts back up again, you step in time to the beautiful melody. You try and put your full attention on the jester, not anyone else in the large room, which proves to be quite easy as he is by far the most interesting person present. You can just make out the small smile under the red painted grin, his relaxed eyebrows under the bright blue diamonds, the crook of his pointy nose.

While moving in sync, you become almost lost in trying to map out his face under the make-up. You look for imperfections in the face paint but can’t seem to find a single smudge or brush streak, in fact the paint looks impressively even, like it’s a second skin.

It truly does feel like its only you two and the music, for the first time in a long time you feel wanted by someone else.

But when the king grows bored he demands new entertainment.

He motions for the musicians to stop their music and you’re brought back to reality. The jester bows for the crowd, he gestures to you and you offer a little curtsy before being escorted back to your throne. Form there, you watch the rest of the strange performers routine. He juggles an impressive amount of miscellaneous items, he folds himself into ridiculous positions, walks on his hands and generally makes a fool of himself for the crowd.

You watch in delight, though your husband doesn't seem as interested as he was before your little dance.

You think about the jester all the way back to your courters that night. You think about him as you slip on your night dress and slide into bed, and you think of him as you stare up at the ceiling for possibly hours. There is too much on your mind, the fun of watching the jesters performance has subsided and thoughts of what this means for your reputation and position in the court remain constant. A sigh leaves you as you lift yourself up and open the doors to your balcony.

You lean on the balcony ledge and stare out at the starry night sky, not even the strange jester can distract from the humiliation ritual you were just a part of. He could have been in on it for all you know and you're just naive enough to think he was being kind to you during the whole thing.

A shuffling sound from behind you makes you turn your head and it takes you just a split second to register the very colourful jester standing in the corner of your balcony.

The screech you let out is smothered by your own hand. You clutch the edge of the balcony, staring at the slender man who puts his hands up, waving apologies while moving his chest as if laughing, nothing comes out of his mouth. You clutch your heart, breathing quite heavily as you stare at him bewildered. You look around trying to discern where he could have come from, and how you only now hear his bells jingle as he waves his hands, still apologising.

He steps closer and stands tall in front of you, he’s much more imposing than you remember him being. He holds up one finger and then mimics a waltz. His head bows low and he holds his hand out for you to take. He’s asking for another dance but is there really much of a choice at all? Has this also been planned? If you say no, will he just leave? Do you want him to leave? The dance you shared was the most delightful time you've had in so, so long

You stare at him for a good while, he stays with his hand outstretched, bent over at a near 90 degree angle, not straining even a little. The longer you wait, the more uncomfortable you feel in his unwavering presence.

Against your better judgement, you reach out and touch his gloved hand. He curls his fingers around yours and stands upright. You let him bring your hand to his shoulder, place his hand on your waist and step closer. This time is different from the last time. Now it really does feel like his attention is only on you, not with the other guests, not with the performance. It should be frightening, but you find no malice in his eyes, no ridicule in his demeanor.

As he steps into motion, you begin a slow waltz in the small space of your balcony. It's slower than in the ballroom, it's more intimate. While you dance with this complete stranger, your thoughts run rampant, you second guess your judgement again and again. Maybe the kindness you sense from him is a ruse. Maybe he is here on behalf of the king, setting up another degrading show. He could even be an assassin, come to rid you quietly in the middle of the night.

You would deserve such a fate for giving in so easily. You slowly spin in his arms and this time you don't hear the snide laughs of the nobility, just the sounds of the night. Both of you step in time and you let him guide you to the edge of your balcony. You hold your breath as he dips you over the ledge. Your eyes squeeze shut and you let out what could be your last breath ready for him to let go and let you fall.

But he doesn't let go, your grip on his shoulders never slips. You open your eyes, a bit blurry from wetness but you can make out his face, because it's right in front of you even though you're bent over the balcony far enough that your feet have left the ground. You stare back at his unrelenting gaze. In the dim light of the moon his eyes look even darker than before and something new swims in the deep black of his pupils, something sad.

They are lidded as they examine your face, your entire being. His hand on your back presses your chest further into his until you're sure he can feel your rapid heartbeat through your very flesh.

He lifts you upright again, turning you away from the ledge and out of harms way. You’re still chest to chest, he’s so close but you can’t feel him breathe. Your wide eyes stare up at him, trying to discern his expression. Your breaths are short and your grip on him hasn’t let up a bit.

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, the warm fabric of his gloves on your cold cheeks has you easing into them far too easily. His eyes examine every inch of your face while his thumbs stroke your cheeks, you can just barely see the frown on his lips behind the painted smile. He brings your face closer to his, slow and methodical, making it very clear what his next move is. You’re not sure if this was due to his own hesitation or to give you time to pull away, regardless you let him inch closer and closer until his lips grazed yours and you finally feel him breathe out one long breath.

The kiss is deep. Despite being slow and gentle, it still forces a struggled breath from you. You would’ve thought he tasted like paint but he doesn’t, he’s warm and inviting. It’s nice.

Your eyes close, surrendering all hesitation to the stranger in your arms. Fingers dig into the fabric of his puffy striped sleeves as your body melts further into his. You quickly learn to breathe through your nose, out of necessity and unwillingness to part from his affections.

You let him work your mouth open, slipping his tongue inside. The feeling is so foreign, you can’t help but whine. The backs of his fingers flutter over your throat and you shiver.

His tongue fills your mouth, sliding along yours and savouring your taste. The wet muscle reaches far into your mouth, farther than you thought normal but your experience is slim and you don’t have the awareness to fully question it. It’s overwhelming. Your knees tremble and he lowers you both to the cold stone floor. His tongue reaches into your throat, a feat you know is impossible.

You’re too lost to even think of the implications of this, as you gag and convulse around the thick muscle in your throat that no longer feels like a normal tongue. He reaches so far, your eyes roll back, your lower region warms uncomfortably and you forget how to breathe. You tap his shoulders quickly, a plea for air, and he retreats from your throat. He holds you as you cough and heave, wiping the spit from your chin.

You look at him with the an expression full of shock and fear and bewilderment and every other emotion shooting through your fuzzy mind. His expression is hard to discern but he seems both amused and sad.

He stands and brings you up on shaky legs. When he starts to back away, you panic and clutch his hands tighter. You don’t know what you were hoping for. That he would stay? That he would spend the night with you?

His face is full of what you hope is longing and not pity, you know what pity looks like. He holds you close in what you know is a goodbye embrace. He presses his forehead to yours and he places one last short kiss on your lips. Its playfull and very much not what you’d consider a proper good bye kiss. You search his gaze and you’re met with rather boyish mirth, lifting your spirits slightly. Maybe this isn't goodbye then?

He winks at you and takes your hand, spinning you around once, twice and three times before he lets go. When you rebalance yourself and look around the balcony, there is no sight of the jester. It's just the pitying sounds of the night and your only other witness, the moon. Like he was never there at all.

[madamechrissy]

I Want It All

Pairings: Yandere! Choso x fem reader

Summary: Choso needs you, no he really needs you, you are everything to him and don't even know it. You don't know about the cameras he watches you on, you don't know he's jerking his cock in his office right across from you. You see a sweet, hot coworker, sort of shy, but Choso sees all of you, and when you invite him over randomly to 'hang out' Choso knows then it's his chance, to have you forever.

Warnings: Um ALOT- extreme yandere behavior, obsessed ass Choso, videoing without consent, using his tongue ring as manipulation lol, explicit sex, masturbation, stealing panties, oral (f and m receiving) possessive and unhinged ass behavior, overstimulation, some dacryphilia, somnophilia low key, manipulation of reader, rough sex, dirty talk, belly bulges, mating press, him being oddly sweet and cute for a nutcase, you name it. Subby Choso isn't here, only batshit Choso mmkay- (Please don't read if you don't enjoy darker content, I have lots of fluffy smut elsewhere) Oneshot- WC- 9.8k

Based on Yandere Bestie Choso - art in the banner from 28 on X here - dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/strangergraphics

TYSM for 9k followers!? Ya'll are so sweet!! consider this oneshot my thank youuu

“Thank you, Choso!” You smile so bright and pretty at him every morning, as he always gets your favorite coffee from your favorite place, along with some sort of pastry that you always say ‘you shouldn’t have!’

“Of course, it’s nothing.” He murmurs softly, as the two of you ride up in the elevator up to the high floor you two work on, you’re touching his shoulder with your little hand, burning through the material of his suit.

Choso hates this job, but he stays for you.

When no one would even listen to him, you sat there and paid attention to everything, to how he misses his little brother who went off to school, to just how much he loves guitar. Every lunch break is spent with you, nodding with your hand under your chin, watching him with your full attention, only breaking to nibble or have a sip of a drink.

You made him feel so good, it’s only right that Choso Kamo makes you feel so good, and he can imagine just about every fucking way to do so. He can imagine licking your pretty pussy till you cry for him to stop, but latching on more, watching your face cover in glistening tears. He can imagine fucking you so good you’re drooling, that you can’t even function.

Choso was never this way though, if anything he was more submissive in relationships, he got used or walked over for how sweet he was, and they usually controlled him in the bed. Though Choso loves to please, the things he wants to do with you are insane, to the point he’s vividly pictured tying you up in rope, knots pressing into your delicate skin, and having his cock in all of your holes.

Every single one would be so full of him, pouring cum out so gooey and white, he’s pictured using you so vividly he’s cumming to the thoughts alone multiple times a day. You seem so interested in him, but he wants more from that, no Choso wants you to need him, in every single way.

“I would never eat without you, I swear!”

He smiles at your comments, but it’s true, you always forget to eat and that just won’t do! He can’t have you fainting when he finally gets you spread open in his bed, when he gets to decorate that pretty ass he sees under those business skirts with his hand prints.

You’re going to need energy.

Plus, he likes to watch you eat, drink water, take care of yourself, you just work too hard lately. He notices, every tired blink of an eye, and every yawn, Choso notices it all- including things only he can see - like how you shift your hips in your office chair, how you cross and uncross your legs, wearing a different color of panties every single day.

Sometimes you wear lace.

Once you wore crotchless.

He got very mad at you.

Who were they for?

Men at the office flirted with you, bustling and busy and a little more men working to women, they all were after you. He has lost count how many dates you’ve been asked on, but you always sweetly decline, Choso likes to think it’s because you already know-

You’re his.

“You should eat more, and relax a bit. Ever took a day off?” He asks you now, and you shake your head, sighing.

“Too many bills to pay.” You yawn once more, before pecking a kiss on his cheek, making him blush, which you find adorable. “Sorry, is that okay?”

“Oh it’s f-fine.” Choso is over six foot, towering over everyone, buff under that suit- you can feel it- and far too handsome for his own good, but he’s so shy he acts as if he has no clue of his effects.

On you especially.

Just being in his proximity gets you too excited, his dark violet eyes flashing just a bit as he looks down at you, when the elevator dings and you two walk out, your hand falling then. “I’ll meet you at lunch?” You tease with a wink, and he nods a bit then, that flush fading just a bit from his cheeks, while you walk into the bright, open office.

Floor to ceiling windows abound, and cubicles are all over, but Choso works in his own private office, as he’s a higher up manager, and you’re the owner’s receptionist and assistant. You prance up to your boss, Mr. Higaruma, who offers you his own kind and tired smile.

“Good morning.” He says your name softly, pouring over his paperwork then and downing his coffee, dark brows knitted together.

“Good morning, Mr. Higaruma, want me to take half your stack?” You put down your purse and your breakfast at your desk, he sighs then, running a hand through his black spiky locks.

“Would you be a doll and do just that? This weekend I got…” He looks around as if he’s not the boss, whispering in  your ear. “Hungover.”

You nearly snort, covering your mouth then, and Higaruma grins at your cute expression. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine, no, it is kind of funny. But I never drink anymore, ugh.”

“One sec…” You go to pull out a bottle of tylenol now, pouring water into a paper cup. “This will help, along with something greasy.”

“Greasy?” You both start talking, and Choso glares across the office, waiting for you to just sit down already.

How close did you two need to get!?

You finally do sit down, and he eyes your panties from the camera he has strategically placed, seeing that they’re purple today, making his cock throb as he sits in his office, he goes to shut the door then, staring at the image on his phone, watching you shift this way and that. Today the lace is clinging so tightly to your puffy lips he can see the outline of your perfect cunt.

“Oh my god…” He murmurs softly, if only you were his assistant, he’d have you bent over his desk right now, but for the moment he strokes his cock over his slacks, as you cross your legs, deterring his view. “Open them for me, baby, please…”

As if on command you do just that, lean back and spread your thighs, god he can’t stand how good you look, he eyes you out of one of his office windows as you smile over at him, waving so pretty. Clueless that he’s stroking his now leaky tip against his thumb, while he smiles back over to you, eyes torn between your pretty face and the upskirt view he has.

Choso’s cock springs free as he strokes himself under the desk, whimpering softly as he pictures it inside you, this is his daily routine though, stroking himself, over and over, he does so at least every day if not multiple times, using the precum and his own saliva as lube to stroke his thick cock faster. He bets you’re so tight, he bets you taste as good as you smell.

He’s leaned back, closing his eyes and murmuring your name when he hears a knock knock knock then, but he’s already cumming. “Shit, shit, shit…” He’s trying to hide his whine as he pours hot sticky ropes into his hand. “Hold on a minute!”

“Sure thing, Choso.” It’s you.

Fuck.

Choso hastily cleans himself up the best he can, tissues swiping at the sticky mess his cock has become, some of it is sticking to his black boxer briefs when he pulls himself together, opening his door. You’re smiling up at him, and he wonders if he should feel bad. You don’t know he sees your panties every day, but he brushes it off, because it’s not like he can help himself.

It takes everything not to drag you in as you just stand there curiously. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re flushed as you look down a bit, biting that lower lip that makes him think insane thoughts. “I wondered… would you like to come over?”

“Come over!?” He’s got his eyes wide now, and you feel your cheeks heat up more, shifting nervously.

“Is that too much? Is it weird?”

“What no I… you… huh?” Choso sputters now, imagining every way he wants you, god your lips probably would feel so good wrapped around his tip, wouldn’t they? Cleaning his cum off himself-

“Sorry, it’s stupid. Ugh. We just are so close here but we never hang out? And I have no friends here, just a cat I think.” You’re babbling, as he’s staring at you like you’ve grown another head.

You’ve wanted to ask him out for so long, surprised he never made a move, maybe you’re not his type? But curiosity gets the best of you, just who is he when he’s not so shy, when he’s not all in his business mode. Those glimpses of tattoos on his arms when he rolls his sleeves up are too enticing.

“A date?” He whispers, and you giggle then.

“It doesn’t have to be. Or it could be.”

“I’ll be there, I’ll… bring wine?” He grins as you brighten up.

“I love wine!”

Oh, he knows.

He knows the brands you like, the type you enjoy, he knows so much about you already, he’s seen the outside of your home almost every night after work, just to make sure you get home safe of course. You live alone and you’re just a sweet, fragile thing, there are too many crazy men out there. Once he watches you, he leaves of course!

But he does notice you enjoy a glass of wine, you leave your window wide open when it’s nice out, petting your cat and sipping on it, reading some book. God you look so pretty when you think no one is watching, when your shoulders relax just so, in those moments his thoughts are far more pure, not like when he has to be tortured by the obscene amount of panties you have.

“I’d love to come over. Do you want me to bring dinner?” He’s trying to sound calm, not like he just noticed with horror he has some cum sticking to his pant leg then, which you seem to notice, tilting your head. 

“I think you’ve got something…” You bend down, brushing it off, making his cock jerk as you look at the sticky substance curiously, blinking while he panics.

“Oh it’s just… it’s some… the glaze, from the donuts!” He’s taking your hand now, and you’re already just licking it off your thumb.

You just licked Choso’s cum.

Fuck.

“You got donuts? Weird you got me bagels this morning. Silly.” You tease now, brushing your thumb back across your skirt, smiling up at him again.

“I uh… raided the… office cafeteria.”

“You have such a sweet tooth!”

You have no idea. Once he tastes you he will never stop.

He doesn’t think he’ll even let you leave,

“I do, okay I’ll bring dessert, you do dinner?” You nod and giggle just a bit, the sound making his heart clench.

“Perfect, I’ll see you after work and give you my address.”

As if he doesn’t know.

“Sounds good.” You shut the door, and he leans his head on it, exhaling, as you curiously roll your tongue around your mouth.

What kind of donuts taste like that?

*****

“This is my favorite wine, oh my God how’d you know!?” You take the bottle of blackberry wine, it’s not even common and sold at one specific store, Choso just smiles down at you, looking far too hot in his soft black shirt and jeans.

You only see each other in business gear, but seeing rolled up sleeves revealing veiny forearms is far too much to handle, along with the dessert ingredients he pulls out. “Was just a guess, is all.”

“A great guess.” Choso just smiles softly, with his lidded gaze drifting across the little tank top and skirt you have on. Just from his gaze your nipples press up, as if they’re trying to tempt him with your every breath. Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, making his tummy clench, god he can’t wait to fuck you, fill you, when you’re ready of course, when you’re begging him like the good girl he bets you can be,

“You’re very welcome. Oooh that already smells so good.” You giggle a bit, taking the wine and bag out of his hands, heading over to where the ingredients are sizzling, you’re making steaks that smell far, far too heavenly already. 

God you’re perfect, shimmying a bit when you taste the sauce you’ve mixed up, beckoning him over with your two little fingers crooked up. “Come taste this.”

Choso urges his cock to go down at your innocent words, but were they innocent really, when he sees how your lips curl up at the corner, cozy inside your pretty little kitchen. He can tell you cook a lot by the amount of mixers, grills, devices and utensils neatly lined along your light countertops.

“Delicious, oh my god.” He murmurs, after you hold the ladle to his lips, brushing some sauce off the corner of his mouth with a sigh, for a wild moment you think of kissing it off him.

But he just touches your wrist, wrapping long thick fingers around it completely, the grip so tight it excites you, before he’s just pressing a kiss on it. Great, you’re some horny slut and he’s this… gentleman or something? You could damn near jump him - how good he looks, how long you’ve been wanting this - but you make yourself act correctly, as you watch him work in the kitchen with you.

He’s got the sweetest chocolate mousse, his turn to ask you to ‘have a taste’ and you lap it up off the beater, short circuiting his brain, while he simultaneously takes in absolutely everything in your home. Every little picture, and every knick knack that comprises you. Of course he sees your cat slinking around, right before the movies he goes to pet it.

“He likes you, that’s rare.” You admit, grabbing two glasses of wine, pouring the dark swirling liquid, handing him one as you sit down the plate with the mousse, taking a bite and moaning. “Heavenly.”

He bets you taste heavenly.

He wants to say it, when you’re right next to him, your legs tucked under you, sipping on the wine, leaving a pretty lip print with the color you’re wearing, a color Choso would love to see smeared across your face. He’s tensing as you lean closer, his arm up and above you on the couch, casually strewn as if he’s not losing his mind.

He’s mapping out more of your house even as he casually brushes his hand up and down your shoulder, as the gory movie begins, and he quickly notices you are not a fan. “Everything okay?”

“Too much… oh god…” You’re suddenly against him, he pulls you close to his hard body, as you’re exhaling, shaking your head. “Scary.”

Choso’s fingers brush against the bare skin on your shoulders, when you’re burying your face against his chest, he’d laugh at how cute you are scared of this zombie movie, but you against him alone has him throbbing. Your hands clutching his shirt as your hot little breaths blow on his neck is too much, he can’t take it anymore, not having you.

His hand moves lower, brushing the sensitive skin down your arms, until he drops it to your hip, pulling you closer, hearing your breath catch as he does. Your nipples tighten in reaction, fuck it’s been a while and Choso smells so good, he feels good too. You don’t move for a moment, feeling warmth spread, mixing with the wine in your body.

You were hoping he’d make a move, as you just weren’t one to do so, but his hand doesn’t stray from your hip, as his thighs spread just a bit, and the sounds of the screams on the screen ebb for a moment. “It’s over now, are you alright angel?”

You blush at the nickname, already overheated, shaking your head and snuggling deeper. “No, it was too freaky.”

“You picked it!” You giggle a bit then, pulling back to look up at him, with eyes he can’t wait to have rolling back in your skull, his hand tightens at the thoughts, as your own grip tightens.

“I knew you liked horror, so I wanted to seem cool.” Choso watches you flush, so fucking cute then, and he pulls you more against him, now cupping your face with one of his huge hands. “Is that lame that I remembered that?”

Oh you’re so cute, as if he doesn’t know everything about you.

You’re feeling so small compared to him, when his hand takes over your face with his long, thick fingers, only making you wetter when he brushes a thumb over your lips. “You don’t have to try to seem ‘cool’ with me.”

“Choso… I…” You lean forward now, and your lips touch, but that’s when Choso loses any semblance of hope of remaining normal, calm, shy even, not when he finally gets your lips on his.

You’re on his lap before you can blink, gasping as his tongue swipes inside your mouth, barbell clicking your teeth gently, and you’re pulling back to gasp, looking down at his eyes. So dilated they’re black, he emits the softest growl as he presses your clothed cunt down on his lap, and you cry out, gushing wetness until your panties are sticky.

“God, look at you…” He whispers, his voice is so different, everything about him is, when you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, rolling your hips and feeling his thick length under his jeans.

He yanks you back down, mouths messy as you grind, as you move, nipping at his tongue ring with your teeth and pulling it, as his cock starts pulsing precum from your heat. “Choso…”

“Fuck…” He’s whimpering as you kiss down his neck, up to his ear, and he pulls you down harder, hands slipping up your skirt to grab that ass he’s stared at every day for a year. “You’re so wet.”

“S’much I… embarrassing…”

“No, no, not at all.” He’s pushing you back gently, so he can look at you, your nipples prominent against your top. He nips it over the thin material with his teeth, while you’re leaving a wet spot on his jeans.

He never thought he’d actually have you like this, silently begging him, one of your hands gripping his hair as he pulls down your top, revealing a nipple already perked up for him. You’re panting when he sucks it in his mouth, feeling the weight of the other one in his palm, your tits are even more perfect than he could ever imagine, the thought that anyone ever saw them makes him furious.

No one will again.

“Perfect.” He murmurs, as he is now slipping down his finger until it hits your clit, rolling in small circles over your panties, as he feels himself already too close, when he sees your lidded gaze, your thighs trembling on either side of him. “Can’t help yourself, can you baby?”

“Fuck…” Choso, sweet and shy and blushing, is talking dirty to you, as his barbell is flicking on your nipple, making you ache, so ready he could slip his cock in with ease. “Fuck me, please.” Your words make him pause, words you don’t just say, when have you ever asked- or fuck, begged?

Someone knocks on your door then, and you grimace in frustration, kissing him once more as he feels himself about to bust if you move once more, and the knock continues. “Should you get that?”

“It’s probably my neighbor, they're always asking for rides or for something.” You frown then.

“You’re sweet, that’s why hmm?” You just smile a bit, hoping they’ll go away, but ever persistent you hear her, shouting your name as Choso laughs a bit. “You can get it, it’s fine.”

“It’s so not fine.” You hop up, leaving Choso a moment to breathe as you adjust yourself and head to the door, where your neighbor starts going on and on, and you sigh, looking back at Choso. “Just a minute!”

“No worries.” As you step out on the porch to hear her ranting about another neighbor from what he can catch, you give him the perfect opportunity, he stands quickly, blood rushing to his head, he is so close to busting, he has almost forgotten about the little cameras he has.

He sneaks into your room now, finding it smells so much like you, your little plushies all along the dresser, which he casually takes one and puts a camera in, before opening the drawer, and seeing you do have an insane amount of panties. Just who are these all for he wonders, running a finger over your pretty bras now too, soft and silky and neatly folded.

God he wants them, but, he needs something you’ve worn, these are all clean and smelling of fabric softener, that won’t do. He eyes the rest of your room, your bed just a little rumpled, opening the drawer of your nightstand, scowling when he sees your dildo and vibrator.

You won’t get to use those on yourself once he has a say.

He thinks briefly of tossing them, but that would look a little suspicious, though he contemplates it for a beat too long, as he runs out when he hears the door shut, and stands there casually, pausing the movie as you peer in. “Just one more minute, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s all good.” He smiles sweetly, and exhales in relief, heading to your bathroom now, where he finds the pair he’d seen earlier sitting right at the top of your hamper, those purple ones that you clearly soaked, he sees the wetness left from them and moans softly, before shoving it in his pocket

Finally you’re back inside, kissing him in his arms, up on tiptoes, your own hands trailing down his body, until you’re touching him, and just the touch and he feels himself about to cum. He needs to stroke himself before he even lets you come near him, clearly, he grabs your wrists, and you pause, blinking up at him, lips in a pout.

“Am I moving too fast for you?” You ask then, brows knitting, while Choso tries to envision everything terrible to make his cock stop, panicking.

“No, I just… I have to… I got a call, while you were outside and um… I have to… leave.” He mumbles, you just blink a bit, pulling back and frowning.

“You have to leave right now?”

“Yes I… yes.” Choso kisses your forehead, before darting out and leaving you alone, standing there in confusion.

Were you coming on too strong!?

The thought swirls through your head as you take the glass of half finished wine, plopping down and sitting on your bed, frowning as you peek at your phone, he seemed so into it, was it the interruption, did he think better? You pause a bit, setting the glass down on your side table with a little clink, before laying and spreading your thighs, touching yourself with a hiss.

You’re so wet you’re sticking to them, ugh.

You call him then, right as Choso has your panties on his face, stroking his cock and moaning, he has the image of you laying on your bed when he opens his eyes and peeks at the monitor, rushing to answer your phone. “Choso… I’m sorry, but did I come on too much?”

“What? No, no…” He’s pulsing as he fucks his hand, now entranced by the vision of your legs spread like they are, it’s all he can see, when you’re shifting a bit.

“Okay um… I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

Say something.

Choso wants to so badly, but now he’s leaning forward, staring at you as you touch yourself, hearing a hitch of breath, and he continues stroking his cock as he watches you. “Cho?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I got nervous.” He admits, continuing to watch as you giggle just a bit, gathering your slick when your fingers dip under your panties, he watches your hips roll and hears your little sigh.

It’s like you know he’s watching.

“Are we still cool? I don’t want it to be weird at work.”

“No never, I-”

“I have to go.” You say suddenly, and he watches as the phone falls from your hands, glaring just a bit when you whine out, he can barely hear you, you hang up on him like a little brat.

You are rolling your finger on your clit as you smile just a bit, it’s a little petty sure, but he just walked out on you, so you get just a little satisfaction hanging up, remembering his touch, how good his hot mouth felt on your breasts. How good his length felt pressing up in his jeans, against your clit, god you can imagine how big it is when you slip two fingers in.

Picturing his tongue ring in the most wicked places, you feel yourself drenched, finally pushing down soaked panties, giving him the most perfect view when he finally sees your pussy bare. He blushes, looking away for a moment, should he be going this far he wonders, but he hears his name moaned from your lips, so he continues, wishing he could just call you back.

Just go back.

But he’s not ready- not just yet- you don’t need him enough, do you? But he can tell you’re starting to, as you’re pumping your little fingers in and out of your perfect, pretty pussy- he’s not sure he’s ever seen one that looks that good. He knew it of course but god he can’t wait to bury his face between your thighs, to lap up those juices he sees glistening.

“That’s it baby, cum for me…” He’s murmuring, as you do just that, thighs shaking, as Choso finishes with a whine, and then he could swear you almost smile at that camera, but no way…

*****

You already have breakfast the next morning.

You already have coffee the next morning?

Your boss apparently bought them for you, and you’re sitting right on his desk giggling a bit, as Choso looks on with a scowl, crumpling the brown paper bag as a coworker comes up to him then. “She’s so hot.”

Choso scowls, as another one walks up as well. “Yeah she is, damn dude I thought you were gonna shoot your shot?”

“I… she…” He’s stuttering, you gaze at him and wave a little bit, as Higaruma’s hand is dangerously close to your thigh while you’re sipping on coffee.

“Is she single then?”

“No. She’s not.” They back off when the tall, buff man glares violet eyes at them, and Choso feels his body raging, hand itching to spank that ass of yours till it’s covered in his handprints.

You notice his glare, turning away your face then, you know you shouldn’t be flirting, but you’ve never tried so damn hard to get with a guy who just leaves you in the middle of you grinding on him. He left without even a ‘goodbye’ or ‘had a nice time’ - he ran away, and part of you has your feelings hurt, because it feels like you’re making all the moves.

You could feel his angry gaze all damn day, until you see him at one point stomp off to the breakroom, and you can’t help but follow him curiously, surely a little flirting wouldn’t upset him that much, right? “Choso…”

Choso shuts the breakroom door then, pressing you against it and making you gasp, as he leans over you, one hand on the door, the other gripping you by your dress skirt, making you gasp. Your hands shoot up to his chest, as if to press him away, but when he is sliding up that skirt roughly you feel your heart thudding in your chest, feel your tummy heat up with desire.

Who is this Choso?

“Do you like him?” He demands softly - you blink a bit, biting your lower lip to hold in a slutty moan as his hand slips up your inner thigh, making you tremble.

“Who?” You whisper, smiling just a bit, but the smile freezes when he’s looming even more over you, taking over your every sense.

“Your boss, Higuruma. Do. You. Like. Him.”

You giggle a bit, breathless. “You're jealous, why?”

Choso shocks you when his fingers find you under your skirt, your cunt drooling all over his thick digits when he presses the cotton against you, you're whining out at the touch, clit twitching in response, head falling back against the door. When your eyes threaten to flutter shut, he grips your chin, making you look up at him.

“Do you like him?” He whispers again, and you shake your head nervously, hips arching for more of his touch, and Choso Kamo smirks, a man you’ve never seen do such a thing, a man that blushes and smiles sweetly. “Use your words.”

Fuck.

“No, no I like you… but you don’t- f-fuck…” He’s slipped his fingers under your panties now, exhaling against your lips, sweet breath like mocha against your lips, when he first touches your slick pussy without the barrier, he exhales, his hand on your chin slipping to tangle in your hair.

“You have no clue what I want, so was that… to make me jealous?” He demands, scowling as he sinks two thick fingers inside your gummy walls that grip him, even though he’s so mad at you, he can’t stop thinking how perfect your pretty face looks, how you’re tighter than he could imagine. He pumps inside you, hitting that spongy spot, pressing his lips right against yours. “Answer me, now.”

“Y-yes.” He laughs just a bit, curling his fingers while you’re wriggling in his hold, covering his lips with yours now, drinking in your cries as he hikes a thigh up over his hips, more and more inches of his fingers in your tight little drippy cunt.

“You wanna cum, don’t you baby?” He’s whispering, kissing up your jaw, as you cling to his suit jacket, nodding eagerly, Choso acting like this is nothing you could even fantasize, you hear the squishing of your wetness even in the room. You nod in between his kisses up your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin, as he hits just that spot like he already knows your pussy.

“Please…” You whisper out, and he thumbs your clit now, pressing against it and grinning as he feels you gush wetness, so much it’s insane to him, he’s fingering you in wonder as he feels your body tense.

“Were you a good girl? Do you deserve to?” You whine out when he pulls his fingers out just before you cum, making your lips part, when he sucks you right off his fingers, moaning at your taste, possibly the hottest thing you’ve seen.

You cannot figure him out.

“Good? Are you being good? Can’t answer?” He eases your panties back on, pressing your skirt down as you struggle to function.

“No.” You admit, his cock is pressing against his slacks, leaking precum while he is fixing your hair.

“You’re so pretty like this.” Choso’s whisper resonates through your body, which his dilated eyes trail down. “Tell him you’re not interested, and I’ll actually let you cum, hmm?”

You just nod, gulping as he stares so possessively at you. “When?”

“Tonight, I’ll be at your place. He kisses you once more, a brush of his lips like some insane promise, while everything you think you know is flipped. “I’ll be watching for when you tell him.”

With those words, he’s gone, leaving you to try to compartmentalize his words, his demeanor, as you’re aching for him, leaving you wanting twice now. You huff a bit, glaring up at him. “Fine then.”

“You’re so cute.” You scoff as you walk out, and Choso watches with a proud smile as you back off, as you sit right at your desk, and he sees just how soaked he’s made you.

*****

This time, there wasn’t any wine or awkward talk, there was no movie playing, the moment Choso walks in you’re yanking him by his collar, slamming your lips up on his as he locks the door with a click, his hands slipping up your waist. He pulls back for a moment, taking a breath, before he’s picking you up like nothing, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You were a good girl, did you tell him you’re mine?” You blink a bit then, confused, brows knitting.

“Yours?”

“Mine. Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering now, gripping your ass with his huge hands, earning your whine while he squishes it in his hands. “Did you?”

“I will.” He smiles softly, walking you right to your room, far too familiarly, but you let him, he plops your right down, so the camera will capture the perfect angle, when he starts kissing down your pretty, perfect body.

“You’re being good, a little bit at least.” He’s whispering, dragging your skirt off your hips, revealing another black lace panty, which he touches, finding it dripping with your slick. “Wear new panties every day, they’re all so slutty, do you want people to see her?”

“What? I…”

“Want them looking at what only I should see?” He’s slipping the panties up between your lips, pressing his own cock into your mattress as it’s pulsing from just being this close.

“No. I don’t want them to see.” Your whisper ends him, he laps a hot, wet stripe over panties he has pulled so tight, exhaling at how pretty you are when he looks up at your face, and your hands grip his hair. “I want you to see.”

“Me?” He’s dragging the soaking lace down your thighs, face to face with the pretty pussy he saw on a fuzzy camera, exhaling when he laps your pooling arousal from your slutty little hole. “So you want to drive me fucking crazy?”

“Y-yes…you…” Your sweet murmur along with how you taste ruin him, he’s spreading your plump lips, sucking in a breath as he sees you wide open, feeling your manicured nails pressing into his scalp while your thighs are shaking on either side of his head.

“So you know what you do to me, huh?” He swirls his tongue around your clit, tongue ring hitting it and making you cry out, back arching off the bed. “Answer.”

“N-no I don’t know… I just wanted you to… make a move I-”

“Teasing me? Making me stroke my cock till it hurts? Tsk.” Choso bites at your little clit now, and you’re screaming when he flicks the barbell on your engorged little clit, you’re gushing all down his pretty face. “That’s being bad, you know?”

“I’m s-sorry… you touch your-”

“Oh baby…” He’s looking up under long lashes. “I hope you can make it.”

“Make what!?” Your words are met with a moan as he devours you, shoving your thighs up.

“Hold them up, now.” His dominance not just shocks you, it ends you, the boy you thought you’d suck, ride, show things to, is a fucking menace when it comes to eating pussy.

No one has ever licked you like this, and he’s got two thick digits deep in your pussy, fuck his fingers are bigger than men you’ve been with, you’re spasming around them as you’re rolling your hips up and down. You’re pausing when he’s suffocating against your drooly cunt, his free hand pressing into your thigh, leaving bruises from his fingertips.

“No, fuck my face, like a pretty slut f’me.”

Yep, you’re done.

You do just that, pulling his hair so hard it hurts, as he laps up every bit of your pretty pussy, you’re closer, closer, he feels it, looking up at you with a glistening chin and lips reddened from drinking you. “Cum, let me drink you.”

“Shit…” He’d chuckle but he’s lost in you, in the girl he can’t stop watching, the girl he’s stalked for so long, just begging for him, screaming out, fucking his entire face, up to the straight nose that he buries inside your cunt. “Choso, I’m gonna… f-fuck I’m gonna…”

He just sucks your little clit in his mouth and hums, shoving two fingers and curling them up, when you’re shattering, screaming his name, and he feels himself cumming then, how can he not. His cum is sticking to his boxers, his jeans even, so much white seed pouring when you’re shaking, twitching, and he’s gasping as your thighs tighten on either side of his head.

“F-fuck… oh m-my god…” You’re weak as he leans up, smirking down at you, stroking a cheek. “Let me…”

“No, I’m not done yet.” You blink in confusion, when he stands. “Give me just a minute.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s back from the bathroom, and you’re on your knees, wanting to suck him, but he’s shoved you back down, lapping at you again, and you’re so weak, screaming out his name over and over while his tongue ring flicks your clit and he’s scissoring those fingers.

Choso had cleaned up but he’s hard again, you just do something to him, fuck why do you do this!?

“C-can’t take more… fuck me, please…” He smiles on your thigh, he’ll fuck you soon, but you’re not desperate enough yet, don’t need him enough yet.

“Cum again.” His order is met with him dragging your cunt along his face, and tears start falling with overstimulation, you’re hiccuping, pussy throbbing, so overstimulated. He’s smiling down at you, that sweet smile with dark eyes. “Oh, angel, we’re not close to done.”

“Huh? Choso… I came a lot lemme…”

“Not yet. Been waiting too fucking long.” He’s devouring your pussy again, sipping you up as you keep cumming, your pussy so sweet it’s drugging him, he’s got you bent over, fingers moving in and out as he smacks your ass, but never fucking you, just making you cum over and over with his mouth, his hands.

“C-can’t take anymore… p-please, too much…” You whisper, then he clicks his tongue, pressing kisses to your titties, leaving brutal bite marks all over your chest, thumb hitting your now sore clit.

“You’re even more pretty crying, I knew it.” You’re sniffling, tears, drool all mixing when he kisses you, and you taste your pussy on his lips, as he sticks in three, and you’ve cum so much you can barely move, fatigue dragging you with the force of each orgasm. “One more, f’me, hmm?”

“C-can’t… p-please Choso…” He’s grinning now, brushing your hair back sweetly like he wasn’t three fingers in your sore little cunt.

“Begging me, crying for me, look at you. Do you realize how bad you were today?” You sniffle, nodding, but he’s unrelenting, curling three fingers and making you cry in pleasure and pain. “You’ll get fucked when you act right.”

“Please! Too much… mnh!” Choso’s back down eating you out, he’s lapping his tongue inside your hole, you feel every inch of his tongue, down to the texture as he looks up at the mess he’s made you, you feel the lines of his teeth when he grins, pressing up the hood of your clit. “Ah, ah! M’gonna… pass out I…”

“One more time, you can take it. I need to drink more of you.” You’re shaking your head, but you can’t stop the orgasms he elicits to the point where you’re gasping and clinging to him, to stay tethered, but the last thing you remember before you pass out is violet eyes bright, and a white grin from his face.

Choso laps at you after you’re limp, how can he not, he’s already cum again just drinking your juices, but now you’re so sore even in your knocked out state you’re jerking, hissing. He’s exhaling even, and his breath on your clit with those lips spread, he can watch the poor little thing twitch.

“Oh, you’re so sweet, look at you. So comfortable with me.” He cooes, brushing back your hair as your tears are drying all sticky on your face.

He’s sure the camera caught it, but he can’t help taking some pictures for himself later, while you’re so knocked out you lightly snore, while he brushes the dried tears off gently. He goes to clean his cock off again, coming back to clean you up, dress you once more, your body limp and pliant, just begging for him even in your sleep, but Choso wants your first time with you awake.

He can fuck you in your sleep after.

Curiously he sees your phone text, some guy asking if you’re free for coffee on the preview, and Choso scowls furiously, picking it up. It’s a fingerprint lock, he kisses your hand in an apology before he uses your print, and starts scrolling though, seeing the amount of men that are in your dms. You seem to not respond to many, but this just won’t do!

What if one of them tried to take you?

Choso deletes them all, blocking them one by one, and when he’s done he stands up, tucking you in carefully, brushing a kiss on your lax lips.

“Much better. Sweet dreams, angel.”

*****

“Choso Kamo!” You’re shoving at him that morning, right outside of the office building, he blinks curiously, lids lowering.

“Didn’t eat you out enough? Need more?”

“You- what!?” You hold up your phone, earning his dopey grin. “Where are all my numbers?”

“You have your boss, unfortunately. And me.”

“That’s it aside from like my girls, what the fuck!” He’s scowling down at you now, backing you up until you’re against the wall of the building, where anyone could see you all, his thigh between yours.

“You don’t need to talk to them.”

“You’re not even my boyfriend yet-”

“No, I’m more. You’re more. Everything.” You’re whining as he kisses you, feeling the wet spot on his slacks, while he grips the fat of your ass, pulling you down on him. “You don’t need them.”

“I just-”

“Want me to fuck your pretty pussy?” You gulp now, nodding and looking down, shocked at yourself.

What this man does.

This psychotic man.

How can he look like a kitten but be such a deviant little psycho!?

“Then get in the car. Now.”

“But… work, Choso-”

“Now.” You follow him to his car, and he’s driving insanely fast, for a man that has a damn Volvo, the safest car there is, he’s scaring the fuck out of you, when he reaches  a hand over, pulling you by your hair, kissing you at the light. “You want it, don’t you?”

“I w-want you, yes.” He moans at the words he’s died to hear.

“Then show me.”

Words and actions that seem so foreign, like the sweet exterior of him is peeling back and revealing how depraved he is, how badly he wants you, when you bend over, unzipping him as the car starts, and you’re bracing yourself on his thigh, revealing a pretty, thick cock. Your cunt starts drooling at feeling him inside your mouth, inside your throat, choking him down deep.

“Fuck… why did you have to make me so mad?” He demands, free hand entangling in your hair as you bob up and down him. “Can’t you see I did it for us, for you, to k-keep you… safe… from- mnh…”

Choso whines out as you’re lapping him up, his hand trailing down your spine to find you soaked, his other hand gripping the steering wheel when he comes to another stop. He has never been one to even let women suck him or give him oral very often, but now he finds he wants to wreck your tight little throat, to stop your bratty mouth, the things you do to him.

“Slutty panties, every day.” You should be concerned, worried maybe, but instead you’re soaking them further, as he hits the gas pedal again, forcing your mouth more on him, your tongue tasting the musky, sweet precum coating your mouth. “All for me?”

“Mmhmm…” Is all you can manage, as he continues torturing you over your panties, and comes to a stop, you are lifted off his cock, he swipes the pretty lipstick smeared on your cheek, slamming his lips down furious.

“Don’t drive me so insane, angel. I can’t take it.” He whispers, violet eyes so dilated they look black as he cups your face so tightly you cry out a bit. “I need you to be mine, no one else’s, can you do it for me?”

You nod weakly, body acting against any better judgement. “Y-yes.”

“You’re being so good for me, finally.” He’s smiling all sweet, as if he wasn’t admitting to being insane, and you can’t find any words to complain, when he picks you up in his arms, your arms wrapping his neck, his hands gripping your ass, you barely take notice of his house, aside from when you start seeing pictures of you all over his desk.

“What… is all…”

“Shh, baby.” He’s got you naked in moments, as you look in horror to see your pictures printed and scattered, you blush as you see lotion and tissues. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Psycho, he’s psycho…

But your pussy doesn’t really seem to care.

“Are these my panties!?” You demand, gasping when you see two pairs on his nightstand that look just like the ones you’ve had on, and Choso just shrugs a broad shoulder, arm wrapping around your body, hand slipping up to grip your throat, lips plump against your ear.

“You have plenty, too many really.”

“How-”

“Now.” Is all he murmurs, turning you and unzipping your work dress, watching as the goosebumps rise on your precious skin. “You’ll be all mine, say it angel.”

“H-huh?” He yanks that zipper until you’re completely bare, panting breaths making your chest rise and fall in Choso’s large master bedroom, where you start to see more and more things that are yours.

Missing pony tails, single earrings, a bracelet, how much of you is there exactly you wonder with a gulp, as he’s behind your bare body fully clothed. When he slips an arm around your waist, hand slipping down your tummy, making it tremble in response, your head falls back with how good it feels against any better judgement.

“You knew you did this, admit it angel.” His words are honeyed, you can feel his pout on your cheek, while he’s rubbing your clit with one hand, the other holding your body against his, curve of your back on his chest, when he grips a bare breast, squishing it in his hand and overwhelming you with sensations.

“D-didn’t know… this…”

“Tch, can’t speak already? Try… All mine. Mine, say it. Now.”

“I…”

“Now.”

“Yours.” Choso goes feral then, turning you so you’re looking up at him, and he’s cupping your face so tightly, leaning down as your shaky hands pull at the lapels of his jacket. “Please…”

“Begging, you’re so perfect, sweet like this?” You’re gulping as he steps back, eyeing your body and groaning softly, hands slipping down the sides of your breasts, down to your waist, the jut of your hips, as he drinks in your beauty. “Beautiful.”

One moment degrading, the next looking at you precious, his fingers trailing off while he then slips off his top, and you see him shirtless, his tattooed and buff body, muscles over muscles leaning to a narrow waist. A slutty waist, that’s what he has, with red tattoos along one side of his defined ribs, flat nipples, you briefly register one his pierced as he pulls that shirt over his head.

“God…” You’re trailing fingers down his body, and he turns you, until your knees hit the back of his soft bed, and you’re on your back, throwing you around like you’re nothing, slipping his pants off with your help over the plump of his firm ass, hissing when his cock is free.

“No one else can ever touch you.” His words are batshit, but your pussy is drooling, tummy clenching when he lines his blushing tip, all reddened and sticky with precum, right between your glistening folds. “No one can, right? I can’t hear your cute little mumbles.”

“F-fucking… shit…” He’s smiling a bit, yanking up one of your thighs high, positioning himself at your soppy entrance, whimpering as your hot gummy walls now engulf his tip.

“Need to hear you, words, pretty.” He’s acting all sweet, like he doesn't have his huge cock right against your hole, like he doesn’t have a screen watching your room, apps on his phone now to keep track of you, plenty of rope to keep you from leaving if he needs to, no he looks sweet.

“No one but you.” He exhales, shoving his cock inside you then, you hiss at the burn, nails digging into the strong muscles of his back as you arch up.

“G-good girl… fuck you feel perfect, I knew it.” Choso is lost then, your pussy is so tiny, struggling to take him, gushing down his veiny length to accommodate, but he’s already too far gone, he’s thought of this too much, far too much. “So fucking tiny compared to me aren’t you?”

You’re whining pathetically as he fills you, stretches you with several inches, too fucking many, your thighs tremble on his hips as he grips two of your wrists, pressing sweet kisses as he pushes them over your head, sinking in deeper and earning your hiccup of pleasure. “Choso!”

“There it is…” He’s whispering in wonder, you thought Choso would be passionate certainly, after he’d eaten you out until you literally tapped out, but the feral grin on his sweet face when he eyes you is overwhelming. He lets your wrists go to spread your thighs, moaning as he watches your tummy. “Look how big I am inside you, hmm?”

You blush as you see it, your tummy bulging and moving, he’s enamored by it, while he slows his movements, now a hand is touching your tummy, pressing just a bit to feel it. “Too much… it’s…”

“No, baby you can take it, hmm? Just like last night?”

“I passed out!?”

“You’re so pretty like that, in your sleep..” You gasp as he leans over you further, shoving your thighs up against your breasts, until you’re folded in half. “I’ll take care of you even in your sleep, you don’t have to do anything angel.”

“Choso w-what?” He’s lost now, tip slamming your cervix, pounding your pussy so deep while you’re convulsing around his length, cumming with one more slam so deep, and he moans at the sensation.

“I’ll keep fucking you, don’t worry beautiful girl. Wanted this so fuckin’ long, you know? How long…” Your eyes roll back in your skull, body struggling to keep a hold of any sense as your climax rocks through your body, as Choso’s hands press into the backs of your thighs. “God I can’t wait to fill you over and over…���

“Mnh! Too m-much…” It’s too good, when he grinds and rolls his hips, black hairs on his pelvis grinding into your engorged clit, you’re gripping those blankets, sobbing with a trembling lip as he works you, losing himself in you.

“No, you can keep going f’me, huh baby? Nod for me.” You manage a weak nod, and he’s grinning again, leaning back to spit on your clit, in a thin long trail of saliva, rubbing your clit again while sinking in your fluttering walls. “There we go, need you to take all this cum, can you?”

“Y-yes… ah m’gonna-”

“Cum, milk him baby. So good.” You’re cumming as if on command as his rough thumb and spit hits that spot, and you can’t see anything but black spots and the glow of his violet eyes and his brows contorted, when his hand leaves your clit, to press your thighs up higher. “Ready for me to fill her?”

You gulp, nodding weakly as Choso loses himself finally, in your perfect face, covered in those tears that just make him pulsate more as he finally busts his hot, gooey load so deep in your pussy, which is sucking it in greedily. You feel him everywhere as his white ropes fill your hole, coating your contracting walls, while he’s drunk off you.

Drunk and whimpering in your ear while he has your little frame folded right in half for him, your pussy so eagerly taking all he gives, so wet and messy as he kisses your swollen lips. He tastes the salt of your tears, letting your thighs fall finally, one hand entangling in your hair, pulling your head up as his tongue plunders your mouth, the other slipping down your waist, leaving goosebumps.

“God you took so much, you’re so good f’me, look at you.” You’re whining as he pushes deeper, white drizzles falling down his cock, and you blink into focus, to see his face is soft again, sweet again, like your little work bestie. He even has the audacity to blush just a bit when he leans up, caressing your face. “Perfect, pretty slut for me.”

“For you…” You should hate that, but it just makes your pussy clutch his cock, he moans then, easing out with a suctioned wet pop, his heavy cock making a sticky mess as cum starts pouring from your puffy lips. “Ah! F-fuck…”

“Look at all this, don’t you want all my cum baby?” He asks with a pout, shoving two fingers back in your pussy, watching the cum disappear with a smile.

“Too s-sensitive- you’re c-crazy…”

“You haven’t seen it all yet, baby.”

Choso has you bent over, ass in his face as he’s eating you out from the back, while you’re gripping his sheets, headboard banging on the wall when he’s back inside you, deeper like this. He has you cumming again and again, eventually tying you right up to the headboard, ropes digging tightly in your skin as he looks down at you, covered in him.

His cum, his handprints, his bites.

His, you’re his.

“I need some pictures, pretty, just a moment?” You’re delirious as you shake your head, tugging at the knots he has you in, but he’s already up, and for a brief moment you take in the surroundings, of all the things he’d stolen.

You panic momentarily when he’s back, and he’s smiling with a lidded gaze, caressing your cheek gently, down the curve of your neck. “Choso?”

“I’ll untie you, I won’t just leave you like this. Well…”

“Choso…”

“I won’t, don’t worry pretty.” He’s thinking of it, of never letting you leave the bed, he could just feed you right, keep you tied at the wrists when you needed things- 

Nah.

He shouldn’t.

Right?

“You won’t leave me now, hmm?” He’s pressing kisses on your forehead so sweetly, as you sniffle just a bit, shaking your head, earning his exhale relief. “Just a few pictures.”

Choso’s snapping them then, dark messy hair falling over his brow, adding them to the collection of photos of you inside your home, from out your window mostly, along with those from last night, of course he’d printed them. He’s positioning you just so, pressing sweet kisses while he snaps away on his phone, finally releasing your wrists, rubbing them so gently.

“Are you alright, angel?” He is frowning, so concerned like he didn’t have a growing collection of your things, you just nod a bit, as he sees where your vision heads, sighing. “I’ve had a… crush.”

“A crush?”

“Well, a really big crush. I’m in love with you.” He’s cupping your face now, smiling down at you. “Maybe I was a little shy?”

You blink before bursting into laughter, you’re losing it, you may just die or be trapped here, but you’re too fucked out to comprehend it. “Shy?”

“Yeah. You’re just so perfect, I needed the right moment. But you were bad, weren’t you? Made me so jealous.” He’s glaring, hand tightening around your throat as he kisses your lips so tenderly, thumb on your fluttering pulse. “You won’t make me jealous again, right baby?”

You shake your head, letting him kiss you now.

Choso has no intentions of letting you go, it’s the next morning and you can barely walk as he’s grinning at you, shirtless and handsome, cooking up pancakes and all sorts of yummy things. Your tummy growls in response, trying to forget the horror as you’d seen you were his pc background even, his phone background, finding more and more things all over.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He comes to you, flour on his cheek which you brush off with a trembling hand. “You should skip work today.”

“I can’t…”

“You can, don’t worry. It’s for the best, that's all, you can stay here.”

“Choso, so soon?”

“I can’t have you working, I need you home, our home. Eating good…” He’s forking a bite of pancake into your mouth, as horror mixed with the sweetness mixes in your body.

“I mean, just a day off?”

“Sure, a day.” He’s smiling brightly, as if he hasn’t already sent your boss a video of your cum pouring out of your pretty hole.

He’s sure he enjoyed it, but maybe not the not so friendly message associated with it.

But you won’t need that job anyway!

“Okay, a day won’t hurt.” You sit down and wince, sore from the endless amounts of times he’d stuffed you full with his cock.

“You need tylenol and coffee!” He’s quick to grab them for you, sitting next to you, brushing your hair back as you swallow the pills so quickly, he brushes back your hair gently, oh he’s so proud of you. “Good girl, hmm? You’re gonna feel better soon.”

Choso is BATSHIT in this my god ahaha, I cracked up writing the donut scene AND the end- TYSM again for 9k followers I am so glad you all enjoy my bullshit lol. Love you all and see you in the comments hehe <3

Taglist #1 - @yenayaps @maddyhehehehhe @nonamebbsblog @saitamaswifey @pearlyribbons @aldebrana @sunasgf1 @avllon @assignedcuntatb1rth @dongh9e @ibreathesmut @jud3thedude @angie420 @bookiestbrlist @beepboop-2222 @ureuphoriasworld @burntasian @classygumi @ane5e @luvmichu @princess-bblgm @melotter @doesthisreallymattter @damnwhompwhomp @angelzrulez21-blog @ninikrumbs @twiuzzi @makrenee @voideddd @pinkyvomit @sosaminaj @silvarys @soupersaldz @gradmacoco @chososgf04 @geni-230 @lennysnicket @meena-in-a-nutshell @yoontoons @nonamevenus @tojiwoah @nanaluvv @namjooningera @msniks @awoodsysimp411 @imonhereforareasonsadly @vantedaes @d4rlinxs

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

[gghostwriter]

One Single Thread of Gold

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.

“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”

JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.

“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”

“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.

He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”

They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.

Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”

“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.

“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.

“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.

The three women shared a look.

“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.

Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.

She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”

“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.

The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.

———

Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.

“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”

“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.

You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”

You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.

“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.

He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”

“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.

“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”

There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”

Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.

Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.

The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.

***

The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.

She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.

“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.

He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”

Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.

The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.

Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.

“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”

Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?

“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”

“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”

The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”

With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.

When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.

“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.

You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”

“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.

You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”

He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.

“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.

“We have a case,” Hotch announced.

The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.

“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”

Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A girl?” JJ guessed.

“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”

“Further?” Emily clarified.

JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”

She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.

***

The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.

“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”

Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”

“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”

Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.

He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”

The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.

“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.

“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”

They laughed.

JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“

“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.

“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”

Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”

He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”

The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!

“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.

He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”

“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.

“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.

The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”

“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.

The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”

“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”

All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.

“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”

“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.

“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”

The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.

“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.

***

[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]

Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.

Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”

Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”

“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”

“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.

“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”

“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”

“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.

Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”

The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.

“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.

Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”

“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.

The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.

You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”

A series of gasps were heard all around the table.

The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”

“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.

Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.

He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.

Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.

The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.

“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”

He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”

Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”

“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.

“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.

You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”

“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.

“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.

Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”

Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.

“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.

You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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