#midnight sun challenge so

[sloedancing]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY <3 (before)

[loomsims]

Aftermath 🕊️

Edward awakes the next morning to some terrible news! Well....terrible to him at least. The sim gods truly have it out for him 😭 It's also the day Edward leaves for Egypt, so he puts his best foot forward and does some last minute maintenance around his land. Hopefully his luck improves by the time he makes it to Al Simhara!

[zarthhearth]

It's high noon!

Marvel's Midnight Sun's is making me feel a lot of feelings. Right now. Constantly.

You would trust Wade with upholding the law...right?

[simpuritysims]

[simelune]

maybe i’ll start a rags to riches in sims to feel something again 💃

[cruel-simmer]

I forgot to take a screenshot of Julia with him so here's Isabella meeting her second great-grandson, Sid!

[spheresims]

Yay, a fresh new blog!

Figured I can start it by sharing these pics of my Midnight Sun founder Balou See and his wife Nepthy during their engagement/wedding night.

[g0dlyunsub]

favorite addiction.

you’re addicted to cigarettes, spencer’s addicted to you. he finds a way to help you through your withdrawal.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

warnings :: mentions of cigarettes and withdrawal symptoms, light makeout sesh at the end

word count :: 1.1k

author’s note :: thank you to @ellamaianderson for the original request! i also used actual quotes from a cm episode, iykyk :) + this is set in spencer's apartment

accompanying song :: antidote by orion sun

“what’s wrong?”

you turn to see your boyfriend, who’s looking at you with perturbed eyes and furrowed brows. he sits on the couch, extending his legs and resting with his hands behind his head.

“uh, nothing?” you return, lightly drumming the table with your pen. if spencer can hear through your seething lie, he doesn’t mention it.

everything feels wrong. your mind feels like it’s about to combust, and your fingers twitch as you rummage under the stack of papers at the side of your – or rather, spencer’s – desk. 

your coworker’s email was giving you an especially hard time, since he requested a last minute change to the company’s budget reports a minute before midnight. you sigh as you continue to let your fingers hastily surf through the pile, only to stop when you don’t encounter the familiar casing.

“are you looking for this?” you hear spencer clear his throat.

you swallow and shift your body to face him. he’s waving your cigarette pack almost tauntingly, shaking it left and right with a cheesy grin. you sigh as you try to piece together a mental simulation for how your pack moved from your desk to his hand; you could’ve sworn it was underneath your papers just five minutes ago. but that doesn’t matter. the tip of your tongue tingles with an urgent desire to be satiated with a puff of smoke. you need one so desperately.

you walk over to the couch and lay your hand out flat in front of spencer’s face.

“alright, give me that, spence.”

surprisingly, he lets you have it. he gently places the pack on the palm of your hand, watching with anticipating eyes to see your next move.

rolling your eyes, you turn the flap of the box, only to see it’s completely empty. you look to see the culprit staring back at you with wide eyes and an apologetic smile. it’s hard to get mad when he’s looking at you so sweetly, like he’s marveling at you.

“spencer? what did you do with… all of them?” you ask at last, surveying the room for any signs of your lost cigarettes.

silence courses through the entire room until spencer stands. your boyfriend looms over you, and with the room’s gold light swimming between the strands of his hair and his eyelashes, he looks ridiculously handsome. 

“y/n, a cigarette takes–”

“six minutes off my life. i know, spence,” you interrupt.

“it’s six minutes less that i get to spend with you,” spencer continues.

spencer and his pretty words. a blush rises over the collar of your shirt. your neck is burning by the time spencer stoops slightly to meet you at eye level.

“you haven’t had one in eighteen hours. you’re doing great. so, so great.” 

a dimple blossoms in his right cheek as he speaks, and his warm smile complements his tender voice perfectly. it's embarrassing to know that he's counting the hours since your last cigarette, but comforting to know that he's willing to take the steps to challenge you, for the sake of your own health.

you pout as you run dry of ideas, a refutation failing to surface on your lips. spencer chuckles, watching as your face contorts into a frustrated expression. 

“those were ten bucks,” you say as a pucker between your eyebrows surfaces.

“you know, in about six hours, there won’t be any nicotine left in your system, and you’ll likely experience even stronger cravings for a cigarette. you might want to drink some water and stay hydrated,” spencer ignores, instead offering a hand to take you to the kitchen.

but you cross your arms in front of your chest, a disapproving look overtaking your face.

“but what are you going to do about me?” you ask, to which spencer raises an eyebrow.

“what do you mean?” he questions, tilting his head to the side slightly. you roll your eyes.

“well? i’m sad now. i’ve got no more cigarettes. i’m hungry. shouldn’t you do something about that?” you teasingly prod at his chest, and you see how he clenches his jaw.

“what do you want me to do about it?” he inquires further, taking a step closer to you.

“i don’t know, you tell me,” you barely whisper as he closes the gap even further. your breath draws in and out rapidly, and your pulse quickens with rhythmic pounds. you’re sure you can hear the air tremble in your windpipe.

“something like… this?” he reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ears as he leans to whisper the words in your ear. goosebumps travel along your entire body, making you gulp. he plants a soft kiss at the base of your neck, right above your clavicle. the strands of his hair lightly caress your cheek, leaving a cozy yet shuddering feeling to spread throughout. 

“something like that,” you purr, closing your eyes shut when he takes your hand and laces his fingers with yours. his graceful fingers rub against your skin gingerly.

“keep your eyes closed,” you hear him murmur.

“for what, spence? if this is another one of your ploys– mm!”

before you can finish, spencer’s lips are pressed against yours. your mouth parts slightly, and you can taste his tongue – a blissful blend of double-shot espresso, chocolate, and salted butter. your hand moves up along the back of his body and rests in his tangled hair, light curls wrapped around your fingers like they want to latch on to your warmth.

there's no need for words. your inhales and exhales increase in pace with each passing second, and spencer’s hand snakes between the side of your chest and your hips, driving you a little bit insane.

you only realize that the warmth on your lips is gone when he transfers his soft kisses to your neck right under your jaw, a wet string of saliva slipping from your tongue to the moist area near your thyroid. 

after several heartbeats, you open your eyes to see spencer drinking in the sight of you, warm eyes twinkling and hypnotic under the lighting.

“did you know that popcorn could help with cigarette cravings? it’s actually best to avoid spicy and sugary foods when you’re trying to quit, since they tend to make cigarettes taste better. so… do you want some?” he breathes, lightly squinting as he asks.

you laugh before leaning in to kiss him once more, “so that’s why you tasted like salted butter.”

“is it working?” he replies after you pull back.

“i think so,” you say whilst grinning, and bury your face in his shoulder.

he pulls you in close before marking a tender kiss on your neck once again.

maybe you could get used to this.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi lovey! Love your work.

Could you do rockstar Eddie and reader based on open arms or faithfully by journey? Maybe even dad rock star Eddie and mom reader??

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting🫶🏻

Faithfully

Highway run into the midnight sun Wheels go 'round and 'round, you're on my mind Restless hearts, sleep alone tonightSendin' all my love along the wire

Eddie sat on his tour bus, strumming his guitar. The bus was dark as the rest of the band was asleep, but Eddie was wide awake. The small light above him was bright enough to light up his small bunk bed. He set his guitar aside and went under his covers. He felt tired but he knew sleep wouldn't come easy.

He reached over to shut off the light, closing his eyes as he spent another night alone. He always missed his wife, but the night was the worst. His arms craved to wrap around her, but all he had was a pillow.

They say that the road ain't no place to start a family Right down the line, it's been you and me And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be Oh, girl, you stand by me

Eddie understood that his family would face different challenges. He'd only be home a few times out of the year. Just a few hours to kiss his wife and play with his kids. Y/N was the best woman he had ever met, and he'd always praise her for her strength. She encouraged Eddie to keep his dream alive after their kids were born, telling him she could handle them while he was on the road.

He called them as much as he could. He loved hearing her voice as she talked about her workday, and the sounds of their kids playing in the back. Then she'd pass the phone to their oldest, Evan. He was seven and the only kid Eddie could have a decent conversation with. Their daughter, Allie, was only one, but Eddie loved to listen to her mumble anything she wanted. His family was his world and he appreciated the sacrifices they made for him.

I'm forever yours Faithfully

Eddie had no worries about his wife finding comfort in someone new, and she didn't worry about him. They knew their love was strong and no one would get in between them. Their wedding rings are a reminder of the love they share. Eddie had thousands of girl fans, many trying to catch his eye. But it was impossible to get him to look twice. He sang about his wife and she was the only woman on his mind.

Y/N missed her husband like crazy but she looked forward to him coming home every time. Hearing his voice over the phone made her heart skip a beat. She loved seeing his face in Evan and Allie, it felt like he was with her even if he was miles away.

And bein' apart ain't easy on this love affair Two strangers learn to fall in love again I get the joy of rediscovering you Oh, girl, you stand by me

The distance wasn't easy, but the reward of seeing each other again was indescribable.

Eddie smiled as the driver drove up to his house. It didn't take him even a minute to get out of the car and haul his bags through the front door. It was early morning, and the house was silent. He softly put down his bags and closed the door.

He worked his way upstairs and headed to his bedroom. He walked into his room and saw Y/N asleep on his side of the bed, Evan lying next to her as his drool covered her pillow.

Eddie smiled at the view of them cuddled together. He moved to his side of the bed, stripping himself down to his boxers. He slid inside the bed. Y/N was on her back, Eddie rested his head on her neck and softly kissed her skin. She stirred awake and groaned.

"It's just me," Eddie whispered, moving his head so he could look at her. Her eyes slowly opened and she blinked away the tiredness.

"You're home!" She whispered excitedly. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned in to kiss his face. Eddie caught her lips in a soft kiss, his body lit up with electricity. Every time he came back home, it felt like he fell in love again.

"I missed you so much," she said against his lips

"I missed you like crazy," he said before he pressed his lips against hers again.

Eddie loved being on the road, but he loved nothing more than being home.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[ashen-char]

i say that i hate you with a smile on my face 🔞

ship: amber freeman (scream) x gender neutral reader

warnings: explicit smut so minors get out. hate sex, sex while driving

summary: amber is furious after seeing you with another girl at a party. the only way to deal with her jealousy is to fuck it out of her.

word count: 2700+

By the time the party ends, it's almost 3am. Early hours have always felt so strange to you, so mysterious that liminal time past midnight and before the sun rises. Everything feels slower. Less alive, almost. There aren't any other cars on the street, aren't any lights on in the houses you pass as you make your way back to Amber's.

The radio is off and the streets are quiet. You almost wish that Amber would go right back to yelling at you because at least it wouldn't be this mind-numbing silence. You're so tense, shoulders stiff and defensive, your grip a vice on the wheel.

You had danced with another girl, sure.

Chad had introduced you to some new girl that Liv had befriended and told to come. You can't even remember what her name was. When Liv got roped into a night shift and couldn't go, she'd told her friend to stick to a familiar face.

Really, you think that Chad just wanted to ditch her on you so that Liv wouldn't tear him a new one for leaving her friend while he got wasted. You owed Chad a solid for helping you score a reservation at some fancy restaurant for you and Amber's anniversary after you forgot it, and you didn't see the harm. That was your first mistake.

Amber's expression is unreadable, her grip white-knuckled on her knee as she stares out the window of your car. Speaking first would feel like you lost—you still don't think you did anything wrong, feel that Amber's reaction went way too far. And you're stubborn. But Amber is even more so. And your relationship is more valuable than winning... whatever this is, so

"I didn't do anything," you say for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

"You hear how you sound right now?" Amber snarls, her own shoulders tensing up. "That's what everyone says when they're caught. I didn't do anything," she imitates your voice in a whine.

Mocking you? How mature.

Letting go of her knee, Amber folds her arms over her chest, looking away from you again. You can see her roll her eyes and scoff a “whatever” under her breath.

You grit your teeth. Possible responses whir through your brain—a joke, an apology, something to diffuse the situation. You know what you should do, know that Amber’s only jealous because she’s desperate for reassurance from you. But God is it exhausting navigating Amber's complex emotions when she doesn't even care if she hurts yours.

Tonight was supposed to be fun for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to go to a party and have a blast, not get into another stupid argument.

Amber hasn't apologised a single time since you two started dating. She hasn't once promised she'd be better like you always do for her. She had yelled at you the second you two left the party, fighting from the porch all the way to the car. She wouldn’t hear you out even once as you were vehemently denying her accusations. You truly believe that you shouldn’t be the one to apologise. Not this time.

So this time, you don't do that. Your hand reaches out, sliding over to the passenger seat until you're grazing Amber's thigh. "What did you think you saw me do, huh?" you say.

“What are you—"

"You think I touched her?" Your fingers trail their way up. The fabric of her leggings is thin, so you can feel the heat of Amber’s skin as you caress her inner thigh. It’s a tease, a war of nerves, wondering when the other will give in. "Like this?"

Amber's still worked up, blood still pumping; the adrenaline from the argument is rushing through her veins. But you know that no matter how pissed off she is at you, there’s no way she’d push you away. You swear she actually moves closer.

“You would,” Amber challenges. “You know, if I knew you were gonna be another unfaithful piece of shit, I wouldn’t have agreed to go out with you.”

You can tell from her tone that she’s trying to rile you up on purpose. Like she’s enjoying getting under your skin. She wants you as heated as she is so it becomes a level playing field. Amber does this whenever you two have a fight, like she's just waiting for you to blow up at her so you feel as insane as she does about you. You know it's all coming from the same place as the jealousy does. She feels so fucking much about you that she's begging for more. Needs retribution so bad. Needs to feel something.

"Sometimes I swear you start fights out of nowhere on purpose," you say. On her upper inner thigh now, your hand squeezes, almost hard enough to bruise. Your thumb runs up down, up down, never quite getting close enough to where she wants it. "Because you like when I touch you while you pretend to hate my guts."

"You're an idiot. Why would I want you to touch me?" Amber clenches her thighs, holding your hand in place, preventing it from slipping back down. You can hear how her breathing gets laboured. She's too stubborn to admit that she wants you to keep going, but you both know it. She can't help the mix of hatred and lust that fuels her veins right now. "I do hate you. I hate you so goddamn much."

A red light. You breathe out in relief.

Finally, your attention doesn't need to be split between the road and this argument. You can see the smile on her face as she swears that she hates you. Good. That wild look in her eyes tells you that you can be more aggressive with her. Amber loves that. 

Your hand slips up right where she wants it, until you're cupping at her center. Only a thin scrap of fabric separate your fingers from the cunt you love so much. You could do it. You could tear through her leggings and fuck the shit out of her. Amber's legs part for you and you swear you hear her whimper.

"What would you do if I did flirt with her, huh?" you say. "Would you break up with me?"

"Fuck you," she spits, though with her shortness of breath it sounds more like a plead. "I bet you wanted to get her to some spare room. You're desperate enough. Were you hoping to get your fingers wet with some other bitch even when you went there with your girlfriend?"

Her mouth is so filthy. You should do something about that. Amber shouldn't be allowed to talk right now. "What's your fucking problem? I was with you all night!"

God, this is fun. Amber's grinning and her eyes shine, the golden light coming in from the streetlights and making everything glow. You squeeze. The meat of your palm is grinding up against her clit but it isn't enough. Not with all that clothing between you. She moans, clenching her legs once more, needing more pressure there.

"You're my problem!" Amber shrieks.

Fuck.

The second you're about to leap in and devour Amber in a kiss, the light you're stopped at turns green. The car behind you honks and you're forced to turn your attention back to the road. Amber lets out a frustrated groan at that, that stupid honking throwing the moment entirely.

"You know what, screw this," she says. You hear Amber unclick her seatbelt, and before you can tell her to strap back in she grabs your hand.

"What are you—" You barely get the words out before your hand is shoved down into her leggings.

Amber's soaked. She's as sticky and warm as the last time you touched her, and you know just how good she'd taste right now too. It isn't your dominant hand—that one is busy on the wheel—so you actually haven't touched her with this one before. It's unfamiliar territory and the same all at once. She pushes her panties to the side with her own hand but it'll be yours that she makes do all the work.

"Shut up. I need this." A low guttural sound escapes her lips as she finally, finally feels your hand where she wants it. Her head tilts back and you feel her thighs squeeze at that first sharp sensation of pleasure. "Shut your mouth and drive," she practically hisses.

You have to focus on the road. The guy behind you is already pissed from how slow you were to keep driving after the green light, and how Amber had given him the middle finger. He's driving so close behind you know that a single slip up could mean a crash. You're so fucked. Especially your fingers, which Amber is sliding her slit up and down on, collecting her wetness with a satisfying shlick.

"Amber," you try to warn. As hot as this is, you do not want to get into an accident because your girlfriend was just so horny during a fight.

Her mouth hangs open in pleasure as she rubs her clit against your palm. It's so much better when you can feel her. You wish you could turn to look. But you can feel Amber's eyes on you, probably still glaring at you with the same hateful glare she had earlier.

"She wouldn't be this wet for you," she tells you.

The girl at the party could not be further from your mind right now. "I don't give a shit about her," you admit. "God, you're so wet, baby." You can feel your own excitement between your legs, can see how your windows are starting to fog up as both of your breaths heat the air.

She lets out a moan, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. "That's right. Because you're mine." Her nails dig into the flesh of your forearm, a threat to scratch you up if you so much as attempt to move away. 

Your fingers slip inside. Two at once. Amber normally likes to play the long game and build up to more, letting you tease her with one sliding in and out until she screams at you for more. But the thrill of the danger and anger and jealousy is getting to both of you. Her hips grind and wind as she rides your fingers, while your other hand desperately grips onto the wheel as you will yourself to concentrate on the road.

"Say it," Amber breathes out. "You're only mine."

A part of you thinks that'd be no fun. "You should've trusted me," you say instead. It's so much more fun when she's seething. It's like her anger is heating up her insides. She feels different. You curve your fingers inside her and she cries out.

"Fuck!"

"Yeah? You loving my fingers in your pussy?" You wriggle the two until you're pressing at the spot that always drives Amber crazy. But it's clumsy. You never use this hand and eventually it'll cramp up and get tired. You know you're doing your job well when she digs her nails in even harder and her hips thrust. Neither of you give a shit when the car behind you honks and overtakes you.

She's too wound up right now, too far gone. Her mouth twists into a vicious smile that you can't see, but you can hear it in her voice. "Y-you wish," Amber struggles out. "You think you're so good. I'm using you here, not the other way around."

She rides your fingers like that for a few minutes. As you had suspected, the lack of practice means that your forearm is already getting tired. As hot as this is, you can't pump as easily as you could if you were on a bed, not worrying about driving. You can tell that Amber is getting frustrated. Maybe that's making it better.

Everything is a blur of rage and lust until you realise you've driven right past her house. Whatever. You're dying to stop the goddamn car and set Amber right. You slam the brakes now that there's no car behind you to hit, sending the car lurching to a stop. Your fingers slide deeper into her cunt with the movement and it makes her scream.

You pull into a residential side street, one even quieter than the rest. Finding a spot to turn off the engine and throw the car into park is easy enough when your brain is putting I need to fuck her right now over safety.

The second that ignition goes off, Amber is already on you. You slip your tired hand away, the other going to her leggings and slipping them off. Her expression is still twisted in that rage that never quite goes away—she hates you, she hates you, she hates you—but she loves you so much when you shove three fingers into her.

You feel her tongue invading your mouth, probing and searching, while her hands continue to grip and claw at your clothes. It's like she's trying to claim you; she wants to take away all evidence of you being your own person, to take away your control.

"Is this what you wanted?" Amber whispers against your mouth. "Why do you make me feel like? You want to see me like this? Huh?"

It's reckless and out of control and perfect. You don't even care that any second you could get caught. You could lose yourself in this moment, in this golden haze that illuminates your fogged up windshield. The car's starting to sway with your movements.

"How do I make you feel, baby?" Her pussy feels so good as you surge your fingers in deeper. "Tell me."

"Like I'm going crazy," she whispers, her voice breaking a little with emotion. It's too much. It was too much then at the party, when she saw you dancing with some other girl, too much when you started touching her. 

Everything about what you're doing to her is bringing Amber closer and closer to that point of no return. "Like you're making me crave you." Her hips rock against you again, her breasts soft as they rub against you too.

This is Amber making you feel the way you make her feel. When you dance with other girls, when you don't text back for hours, when you forget your anniversary. Every time you brushed off an insult and didn't let a fight escalate, this is what she wanted. How pent up she must have been, swallowing down the rage and accepting your apologies.

Amber whines when your thumb grazes against her clit. Every bit of her feels like it's tingling and she's practically soaking your lap at this point. "I hate you but I can't live without you." Amber sounds like she's on the verge of tears. "It scares and excites me at the same time. I—I've never cared this much."

You keep pumping right back into her, never stopping, only growing more and more intense. Her body trembles but you're holding her. Amber's hands grasp at your forearm again, like she can't decide whether to push you away or pull you in. You don't know what to say. She was enjoying the fight earlier, instigated it even, but she's so vulnerable now.

"You're the only one I want," is what you end up settling on. Your thumb stops those teasing grazes now, rubbing against her clit proper. Her wetness makes it so easy. "And I am yours."

This is what makes Amber shudder and dissolve in your arms. The tension finally breaks and she starts squirming against you, fingers lodged so deep into her body it's like you're grazing at something deeper, body shaking violently. She's so close, so impossibly close, a moment of pure ecstasy that lasts seconds before falling apart in a burst of heat and pleasure.

"You're mine!" This she shouts so loud you'd be surprised if the entire neighbourhood didn't wake up.

You two fall silent for a moment, both taking slow, shuddering breaths. Amber can feel her brain is still short circuiting, trying to calm down; it's like her stomach has been replaced with a ball of fire.

"Still hate me?" you whisper, leaning in to kiss Amber.

"Just shut up, okay," she murmurs, kissing back happily now, her voice still raw from the edge of tears and the intense orgasm that had wracked her body. "Don't ever do that again."

[sloedancing]

i want to put ada and santi back on the fucking island

[loomsims]

Edward spent the rest of his first day exploring the town and getting to socialize with people outside the island. He also got to have some real food for the first time in forever! It was super spicy and Ed almost coughed up a lung, but it was def worth it. 🔥

[cozymoko]

OMGGGGGG I love love love your cowboy fic!! do you have any plans to write more of him?? Also, was he intentionally trying to get under our nerves when he was saying all that about the other girl or was he just genuinely just talking and trying to avoid making us do work?

More Jamie? 𐚁

Ꮺ Post of Interest. Here !

Ꮺ Nav. Masterlist !

ANSWER:

I plan on writing more about him as long as you guys keep requesting! I really love cowboys, haha.

Jamie can be an airhead at some points, but he honestly didn't see the harm in mentioning Mary Anne. Even though his comment about [Name] being on the rag was just plain ignorance.

He would never actively try to make [Name] jealous; you're his one and only, he wouldn't even look at Mary Anne twice if he could!

Here's a little cutesy scenario to sweeten the request. Thank you for saying such kind things, anon. (*°∀°)=3

Ꮺ (Also, I'll add color to this later, it looks so bland.)

WARNING(S): None!

“Well, darlin’, I ain’t never seen someone hold a rake quite like that,” A certain good-for-nothin’ drawls as his plump lips twitch into a grin. He leans against the maple fence, resting his chin on the palm of his sun-kissed hand. His warm eyes twinkle, watching you wrestle with the tool. So simple, yet, watching you do it made it look like a serious challenge. “Ya tryin’ to charm the ground into plowin’ itself?”

Truth be told, the cowboy was praying you were doin’ just that.

You huff, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow. The heat was driving you crazy — more so than the fool at your side. You felt sticky and gross each time you had to peel your blouse from your dewy skin.

“It’s not as easy as it looks, you know,” you mutter, tossing a glare his way. But he just chuckles, that deep, rich resonance that quickly sent a shiver down your spine.

He saunters over with a little chuckle, leather boots crunching over dry dirt. “Here, sugarplum, let me show ya. ‘Cause if I leave ya to it, we ain’t gettin’ dinner ‘til midnight.” He teases.

Jamie slides the rake from your fingers, his touch lingering just a tad bit longer than necessary. His fingers brush yours, and you feel the heat rise in your cheeks, which only mafe his grin stretch all the wider.

With practiced ease, he shows you the rhythm, his body so close you can smell the faint hint of sweat and honey that clings to him. “See?” he whispers, voice low as he guides your hands. “Ain’t so hard when ya got someone teachin’ ya, hm?”

You roll your eyes, but the fond smile creeping onto your face betrays you. "Yeah, yeah, cowboy."

Jamie’s gaze softens, and he leans in just a bit closer. “I gotta admit, sugar, watchin' you try so hard, all city slicker and outta place...well, it’s ‘bout the cutest thing I ever did see.” He tips your chin up with a gentle finger, and for a moment, the playful gleam in his eyes shifts into something a touch darker, something hungry. “I could just eat’chu right up.”

You swallow, feeling your pulse quicken, and he laughs softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But don’t worry, darlin’. You’ll get the hang of it. And even if ya don’t...hah, I believe I’d like keepin’ ya right where you are.”

⠀⠀𐚁🐎

⠀. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

©CozyMoko, all rights reserved. Don't repost my work on other platforms.

[simpuritysims]

Eve: Soooo, I'm pregnant?

Biyu: :D

[sexlapis]

𖤓 SUN BEAMS & PALM TREES

── .✦ nanami x female!reader

ns4w, pure smut, one shot, clit stimulation, PiV, oral sex (m receiving), possessive behaviour, praise, teasing, slight degradation, reader is wearing a micro bikini

⤷ you and nanami are on vacation, so you take the chance to show him your new bikini.

. wc: 3.8k

a/n: i want him to eat me. also i’m missing summer. just a little bit. this is kinda dirty.

masterlists

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In the month of May, days of tedious paperwork, sleepless nights, grey clouds, packaged food and chilly weather, are temporarily replaced with hot sun, clear, cloudless, pure azure skies, dinners and desserts cooked for hours to perfection, sand clinging and stuck on bare feet and in between toes, sharp tan lines, and warm midnights of dreams and peace.

Vacations this long were rare for you and Nanami, so you both decided to cherish it and make the most of it.

You two had been so busy with your lives. Work, family, friends. All the inevitable challenges of adulthood emerge on the regular. That one must go trudge through like they do a thick swap of mud, like swimming in the beast of a rageful ocean fueled by the anger of Poseidon.

But when one makes it past such difficulties, the rewards can be fruitful. Even with the scars.

Quite like they are now.

You lay on a beach chair. The drooping leaves of a large palm tree protect your skin from that diamond of a sun for the most part, only a few beams sneaking through the rips in the leaf and creating a zig-zag pattern of shadow against your abdomen.

Nanami’s beach chair had already been set up for him, courtesy of you. His sun cap, a bottle of water and a new piece of literature he had been reading were all placed on his chair, with your big beach bag filled to the brim on yours.

For the first time in months, the only thing on your mind is pleasure.

Pleasure in the sun. Pleasure while you rest. Pleasure in relaxing in the fine shade.

And, most of all, pleasure in anticipation of the upcoming reaction from Nanami because of your new bikini.

If you could even call it that.

You donned a micro bikini. And gosh, did it put the micro in micro bikini.

It was a flimsy, tiny thing. One that could come apart with one light tug.

Rose-shaped crocheting concealed just your nipples and areolas, leaving very little to the imagination. On the lower part of your body, you wear a thin, string thong. A second crocheted rose decorates the thong at the small of your back. And last but not least, a final rose, embroidered into a choker, adorns your neck snugly.

You’re an art piece.

“_____! Why did you run off…”

Nanami trails off when he acknowledges what you’re wearing with his eyes, now comically wide. It's rare that you shock Nanami, stoic and calm Nanami, like he is now.

Umber eyes trail from the little fabric curved around your pretty neck, down to the little fabric over your sensitive nipples, down to the little fabric covering your intimate area.

To him, you were otherworldly. You were an angel on a beach of mortals. Venus reborn. Ethereal you were as you lay on the chair in your micro bikini with your eyes closed and your body shimmering like gold in the light.

“Hi, Kento.” You greet him, your eyes still closed and expression tranquil. “‘Thought you’d never show up.”

Nanami doesn’t respond for a moment.

Then he clears his throat. “I would’ve been here sooner if you didn’t rush off…Or if I had known you were going to be wearing that.”

A short giggle leaves you.

He was so predictable.

“It’s new. Do you like it?” You look down at yourself. You lift your hands and begin to gently outline the shape of your bikini top with your fingers. You feel your nipples harden underneath them.

“You look…lovely.”

You bit your lip. “Come sit down.”

He obeys with no hesitation.

Nanami strides around your chair and items, removing his things and sitting down on his chair, laying back, resting the back of his head on his bent arm. He picks up his book before looking at you.

And your little bikini.

You peer one eye open again.

“Let’s just relax for a little bit first. Okay?”

His jaw clenches. Licks his lips.

“Yeah, of course. I can admire the view.”

You hum.

The sounds of the beach - the powerful crash of the waves sounded so soothing in your ears, the cool breeze brushing through vast leaves of trees, the angelic cry of exotic and rare songbird - they all flowed through your body, through your mind, and all painful memories of the past, all your grievances and heartaches, for just a moment, flowed away with it.

Many minutes later, when you are on the brink of sleep, a hand is suddenly on your chest.

Your eyes snap open.

Nanami’s hand is on your breast.

He doesn’t look away from his book. Still seemingly engrossed in his reading as he circles the perimeter of your bikini top.

A sigh escapes your mouth at his touch.

Nanami’s hands haven’t been on you all day. And you need them all over you.

Your head tilts back involuntarily and your thighs fall open as he trails his hands down the softness of your torso, eliciting goosebumps in his wake. A quiver tickled your lower body.

A calloused, broad hand made its way down to the pathetic excuse of a bikini thong. He slowed down as he reached the front of your already damp thong. With his ring and middle finger, Nanami cups the outside of your thong softly.

Whimpering, desperate and in need of some real attention, you lift up your bikini top, exposing your breasts to Nanami and the whole beach.

One short gust of wind followers soon after, making your nipples and the skin around them crease with tautness.

Finally, Nanami looks your way.

“Ah…” He gulps, licking his lips again. “Look at them. The little ones are out…”

Nanami cuts his teasing short and decides, for once, to give into temptation and instant gratification.

That instant gratification comes when he sits up from his chair, removes his hand from your cunt, scoots toward you, leans down and curls his lips around one of your hard nipples.

What escapes you is a mix between a loud groan and a sigh of relief.

Nanami’s wet, soft mouth felt so good on your dry, erect nipples. He swirled his tongue around it, nibbled his teeth on it, and sucked his lips around it, pulling the pert flesh into his mouth. He raises his left hand to your lonely breast, caressing the mound in his rough hand, fondling and groping it like he does to the dough when he bakes. With expertise, experience, practice and precision.

“Kento..” His name leaves your lips like a prayer. Your own hand finds his blond locks, curling your fingers around them tightly and arching your back and chest into his eager mouth.

You feel him groan and smirk and the sound rumbles through your already trembling body.

It hasn’t even been five minutes and Nanami has managed to break you down, turning you into a shaky mess of desire and lust.

He moves onto your other breast, giving her an equal amount of attention too. You shift your body, giving him more access to your breasts. And he feasts on them gladly, leaving a watercolour painting of his. saliva all along your nipples and chest. It twinkles in the sunlight and you feel like his own work of art.

While one of his hands is on your waist, the other is once again travelling down to your now dripping cunt.

It’s not very difficult to get you wet, is it?

His fingertips gently run over your slit that is still covered by your thong. The minstations of his fingers make you bloom, like a flower, a rose, and the delicate fabric of your thong molds into the shape of your slick folds.

Your teeth chew on your lip as he plays you like his most prized and precious instrument, one that is most treasured and used.

Nanami nuzzles his face and nose from your soaked chest to your jawline, planting kisses along the contours of your face.

“Ah, fuck, baby. You’re already so wet.” He states, in awe of your body’s reactions. He now focuses his attention on your nub, punching a gasp out of you. He draws slow circles around it. “Did wearing this slutty little bikini really get you so worked up?”

Nanami gives a bite to where your jaw and neck connect.

You wheeze.

“No-no…it was-it was wearing it for you that got me like this.”

You almost feel embarrassed to admit it. That even thinking of your husband being aroused by you makes you aroused in turn. Just the thought of him seeing you in this bikini and reacting the way you knew he would was enough to get you hot and bothered. Let alone it actually happening.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Nanami breathes out. The pace of his fingers speeds up, the wetness building up behind your thong, making his movements smoother. He kisses the corner of your lips as you pant and look at him. “You’re so sweet.”

His lips drag from the corner of yours and then he’s covering them with his own. Nanami takes advantage of your open mouth, slipping his tongue inside. The way he eases it in unexpectedly makes you whimper again, and he devours your sounds greedily, biting, licking and pecking at your now puffy lips.

Pressure builds deep inside you stomach, inside your cunt, tightening and tightening like a silk knot tied around your most intimate parts.

“Oh, yes. Yes, you’re so close…Here-“” He manoeuvres you a bit, lifting one leg up on the chair and leaving the other on the ground, making you all spread out just for him. The new angle reveals more of your clit to his fingers, making you sigh languidly. “There…that should do it. Cum for me, baby.”

It does.

The new angle and the expert movement of his fingers of your sensitive pussy make you burst, exploding as you groan through your first orgasm, gratating yourself on his two fingers.

You can hear the quiet sluch, sluch, sluch of your cunt as he rubs you through your breathtaking high, your legs twitching open and closed as you travel through a brief heaven on earth.

“Hmm…that’s just what I wanted…” Nanami tells you. “For you to be a mess from just my fingers. And now a mess on my cock as well.”

He slows down his circles of your clit and removes his fingers after one full rub of your slit. Nanami raises his damp fingers to his mouth and laps your juices off his fingers, tasting all of you that seeped right through your thong.

Nanami groans. “I just love the way you taste, baby.”

Heat rushes up from your abdomen to your cheeks, making you hot. And it’s not from the sun.

It’s the shamelessness of his actions and how he expresses how much he, essentially, wants to consume you. All of you. Every damn inch of you. And that fact makes you lose just a tiny bit of your sanity every time you remember it.

Abruptly, Nanami stands up. His crotch is right in front of your face when he shrugs down his swimming trunks, showing you his hard, swollen dick.

He spits in his hand and uses it to slowly stroke himself up and down. You peer up at him as he looks down at you fondly, stroking your cheek with his free hand.

“Look what you did to me.” He tells you, looking down at his length then back at you. “This is all you, sweetheart. All of it.”

You exhale deeply, unaware that you had even been holding your breath.

His eyes, his dark, beautiful brown eyes held you in place with you stare alone. You were stuck there, limp, chained by his gaze, both tender and hard, both pure and lustful. And you did not want to be set free.

A thumb swipes at your bottom lip, pulls at the plump skin and then makes its way into your pleading mouth.

You close your eyes for a short time, relishing in having something in your mouth and then you suck on his thumb and swirl your tongue around it once.

You loved to have his fingers in your mouth.

Nanami smiles so softly at you, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Here, baby,” he removes his thumb from your mouth and, to your strong approval, replaces it with the tip of his cock, “it’s all for you…”

Thick, long, red and hard.

Your eyelids dip and your eyes roll into the back of your head at the weight and feel of him in your mouth. Full. Overwhelming.

You moan.

Nanami tips his head back. He strokes your hair as you begin to carefully bop your head up and down along the span of your glorious cock.

His dick was perfect. Curved. Wide and girthy. Not too long. It was just right.

Everything about Nanami was perfect.

And he felt the same way about you.

“Oh, yes baby. Shit.” He curses harshly when you pull back and only suckle on his tip. Salty, sticky precum pooled on your velvet tongue as you lolled it on the underside of his tip, catching all of the leaking stream you could before taking him into your mouth once again.

You look up at him with your glossy, doe eyes, framed by your feathered eyelashes. The look you gave him, like you were all he ever wanted made him pull out of your mouth with a swiftness.

It almost made him finish far too quickly.

You laugh. Despite his strength, composure and astuteness, one of his weaknesses includes your mouth.

You collapse back onto the chair, grinning at Nanami as he tries to catch his breath after his almost-orgasm. You're still wet, even more so from seeing him nearly reach his peak so easily.

“‘There something funny?”

Nanami is on top of you in a flash, straddling the chair and grasping both of your wrists in his hands, the weight of him causing the beach chair to wobble and creak a little. You squeal.

“Ken!” You hiccup at the sudden movements that leave you winded and mesmerised.

At this time, with him pinning you down, you take the moment to admire him. His thin, jewelled eyes, the taffy blush which appears over his nose and cheeks, the height of his cheekbones, the single strand of hair that dangled in front of his forehead.

Adonis personified.

“Let me see her again.”

The question of ‘who?’ died in your throat as soon as it came to life when you realise he isn’t talking about a person. But your cunt.

His refuses to take his eyes off of you, so you succumb and almost shyly, do as he says.

You spread your legs for him. He fits in between them like a piece of a puzzle, slotting together so smoothly like you were created for one another.

He hooks two fingers at the front of your thong and pulls before letting it slap back onto your folds. You let out a yelp.

Nanami soothes you before you can complain, pulling your thong to the side and revealing yourself.

It shines with your own wetness, glimmering in the occasional flickers of sunlight, enveloped with small hairs that glisten with gossamers of your nectar.

“Stop looking at it, you weirdo.”

Your words snatch him out of his little trance.

“I’m sorry.” He replies, smirking and not sounding apologetic in the least. “I just think it’s nice.”

“I just think it’d be nicer with a dick inside.”

“Don’t push me.” You stick your tongue out and he simply kisses it instead.

Any words you were to speak and any thoughts that were to form all dissipate into dust, insignificant as the sand below you when he eased himself into your puffy pussy, slow and effortless in motion. Luckily, there is little to no resistance on your end.

As always, he fills you up so smoothly.

But it feels different now. Now that you’re both on your own, miles and miles away from the hardships back home. Just you and him alone. Nobody else to pester, criticise or judge the two of you. The only concerns you have now are how you clean the pesky sand from your shoes and feet and how to treat Nanami’s inevitable sunburn when you get back to your five-star hotel.

Limber and pliant underneath him is what you are when he rests the majority of his weight on you. He steadies himself with his powerful legs and grabs the sides of the chair as he begins to fuck into you.

“Ken.” You pant. “Ken. Kento, we’re gonna break this chair.”

Nanami just huffs at you. “Don’t be silly. Why are you even…thinking about that…” He seems to lose his train of thought due to the fact that you keep clenching and unclenching around him with every deep stroke of his through no fault of your own.

“Because-“” You bite off your words with a shout when he, without warning, steps up the force of his thrusts, bucking his hips roughly into yours while keeping his firm pace. This makes your pliable body jolt up and down along the beach chair, breasts bouncing. His tip kisses that one gummy spot inside of you. A gush of wet pours out of you.

You scramble, finding his rippling biceps and digging your nails into them, scratching and breaking into pale skin, feral and vicious and marking your claim. Growling into his mouth and biting his lower lip to indent the shape of your teeth into them.

That’s going to leave a few marks. Not that Nanami minds.

In fact, he leans in more, allowing you to ravish him however you see fit. It’s clear - the pleasure he takes in your possessive, territorial, almost animalistic behaviour is a little thing he adores about you. Glaring at people who stared at him for a second too long, wrapping an arm around his waist at an event, coming up behind him to kiss his neck when he was cluelessly speaking with a person who was flirting with him.

Nanami couldn’t lie - he enjoyed the feeling of being owned by you. Being yours.

Such thoughts and your actions encourage him. He releases the chair and his hands find the backs of your knees and pushes them back towards your chest.

With you in this position, he starts up his pace again.

“Oh! Oh, Kento. Kento!” He felt so huge and you felt full, full to the brim as he continues fucking you.

Odd sounds escape your mouth with each thrust of his, little “ahs” and “uhs” flow out of you in time with each of his movements.

Nanami rests his forehead against your sweaty one. “Shh, shh, sh. Listen.”

You do as he asks, curling your lips to keep your sounds in.

What you hear is yourself. Your own soaked cunt each time he moves into you, a sloppy squelch, squelch, squelch each time he moves in and out, in and out, in and out.

With a hand at the back of your neck, he tilts your bobbing head down to make you look at where the two of you are connected.

He’s covered in your cream, white splotches of your cum decorate his cock, smearing along it with each deep thrust into your drenched canal.

It’s all you, all your own substance sullying him, claiming him.

It’s like watching a performance - admiring how his cock spreads your walls to accumulate him, molding and sculpting around his length entirely, being created into something new altogether.

“Touch yourself, angel.”

Nothing more has to be said.

You’re reaching down between your legs immediately as he continues to pound into you, swirling your fingers around your neglected clit quickly. It’s so, so wet, you just know your fingers will be pruned by the end of it.

Another one builds up inside of you. Filling and filling up in the depth of your cunt until it’s nearly overflowing through your whole entire body, bursting within your nerves and being the catalyst to your already twitching and trembling body.

Whispers and tiny gasps are pulled from you. Nanami decides to spread your legs just an inch more, and spears into you so far. It sets you right off.

A whiney, loud, elongated moan runs free from your mouth as you start to come again, back arching as you play with your poor, oversensitive pearl, and your sounds turn into a silent scream as Nanami continues his rough pace.

“Oh, that’s it, angel. Mm-“” He’s pulling out of you quickly, ordering you to get on your hands and knees immediately. You fling yourself around, sticking your ass up, tightening around nothing but the hot, humid air.

Nanami pulls you back against him. You can feel his swollen cock head run up and down you folds before he enters you once again.

This time, he’s merciless, pummelling into your welcoming hole as you fucking scream the whole beach down, holding onto the chair railings for dear life as he bounces you up and down on his cock, feverish and desperate, growls ripping from the deepest depths of his chest to his panting mouth.

He finds your ass cheeks, giving them both a hard smack and then gripping them both in his hands to use as leverage when he grinds his hips against your spongy globes. His head falls back.

“Kenny.” You whimper, almost at your limit. “Kenny, please cum. Please, please cum.”

Nanami grunts, his hips stutter. Then they halt. He gnarls and pulls out of you, leaving you gaping and dripping as he strokes himself, his dick burrowing into your bikini, the crocheted rose, and cumming inside of it, covering it with his seed, making you his canvas and claiming you as his own too.

You wiggle your hips as he strokes himself to absolute completion, his almost inhumane sounds turning into gentle huffs and puffs of tiredness.

“Kenny…” You smile and look back at him, happy and sated.. Nanami admires the mess he’s made of you and your bikini. You then pout. “…Kenny, you ruined my bikini.”

Nanami leans down to you, pecking your damp cheek, lip and chin. “I’m sorry,” he fiddles with the strings of your ruined thong, carefully pulling them down, “I’ll buy you a new one…”

Just then, the chair gives way.

You scream as you both fall sideways, fast first and half nude into the sand.

A chaotic scramble ensues, you wriggling around like a worm, throwing sand everywhere and Nanami attempting, and succeeding, in preventing your ridiculous show.

“Are you okay?” He asks, more concerned and panicked than amused. But you can see the simple forming in his cheek.

You look back at him, spluttering out sand from your mouth. Deadpan.

“I told you it was gonna break.”

Nanami goes to speak. Your glare shuts him up. He loses his smile real fast.

“…Sorry.”

“I want five new bikinis now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*

a/n: take a shot everytime read the word beach chair 🥃

[soulofapatrick]

Fighting for Control - Rhysand x female reader

Summary: Rhys finds you training and you challenge his insufferable ass

Words: 3.9K

Notes: I am alive, sorry for being MIA for so long - I've been down with the flu for a week or so 😭

Y/N's POV

The late afternoon sun bathes the training arena in a golden glow, the heat sinking into my skin and mixing with the satisfying burn of exertion. Each punch I throw lands with a solid thud against the padded dummy, and I imagine it’s an Illyrian male with one too many smug comments. The mental image fuels my strikes, sharper, harder, faster—until I finally step back, breathing heavily, and shake out my arms.

I shift my weight, readying myself for another go, when the faintest prickling sensation tickles the back of my neck. Someone’s watching me.

I turn, slowly, scanning the empty terraces above the arena. Empty—except for the male leaning lazily against a stone pillar, silhouetted in the sunlight like some arrogant statue come to life.

Rhysand.

His midnight hair stirs in the soft breeze, and even from here, I can see the smirk tugging at his mouth. He looks unfairly perfect, his tailored shirt rolled up to the elbows, exposing forearms I stubbornly refuse to admire. His violet eyes lock on mine, and there’s a distinct, infuriating glimmer of amusement in them.

“Enjoying the view, High Lord?” I call, resting my hands on my hips.

“Immensely,” he replies, his voice carrying effortlessly over the distance—low, smooth, and laced with wicked humor. He pushes off the pillar, sauntering toward me with all the grace of a panther on the hunt. “Though I’ll admit, it’s much more entertaining when you’re scowling. You have this adorable little furrow in your brow when you’re frustrated.”

My scowl deepens on cue, and his laugh rings out, warm and rich and utterly maddening. “See? There it is.”

“I could arrange for you to see it up close, Rhys,” I say sweetly, though my tone drips with challenge. “Say, by smashing your face into the dirt.”

“Such violence.” He presses a hand to his chest as if I’ve wounded him, but that grin of his only widens. He’s close now, close enough that I can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the mischief practically oozing from every pore. “But if you wanted my attention, darling, all you had to do was ask.”

I snort, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair out of my face. “Please. You couldn’t keep up with me if you tried.”

“Bold words for someone who just spent five minutes attacking a dummy,” he counters, his voice teasing, though there’s something sharper lurking beneath it.

That spark of competitive fire ignites in my chest. “And here I thought the great Rhysand didn’t need to inflate his ego any further. Tell me, High Lord, do you actually have the skill to back it up? Or do you just rely on your magic to make up for the lack?”

His grin sharpens, wolfish. “Are you challenging me, sweetheart?”

“Depends.” I step closer, tilting my head as I eye him. “Are you scared?”

“Scared?” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head like he’s indulging a reckless child. But there’s a gleam in his eyes now—bright, electric, and entirely too dangerous. “You’re either incredibly brave or terribly foolish.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” I shrug, deliberately casual, though my heart is already pounding. “No magic. No wings. Just you, me, and good old-fashioned hand-to-hand.”

Rhys takes another step, and suddenly he’s looming over me, all dark power and infuriating smugness. His voice drops, low and velvety. “You really think you can take me on?”

I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down even as his scent—night-chilled air and cedar—threatens to fog my mind. “I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

He studies me for a moment, the corners of his mouth curling into a slow, wicked smile. Then, with a lazy flick of his wrist, he shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto the stone floor. “Alright, darling. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

I don’t give Rhys time to settle. The moment he’s rolled up his sleeves, I’m already moving, throwing a sharp jab aimed directly at his perfect, insufferable face. He sidesteps with a grace that borders on casual, like he’s stepping out of the way of a falling leaf rather than dodging a strike meant to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That’s cute,” he drawls, his voice rich with amusement.

I grit my teeth and pivot sharply, aiming a kick toward his ribs, but his hand shoots out faster than I can track. His fingers curl around my ankle with maddening ease, holding me in place like I’m a kitten trying to swipe at a lion.

“Careful, darling,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly, as if to study my form. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. I’m rather fond of your legs, you know.”

Heat rises in my cheeks, though whether it’s from anger or the way his thumb brushes lightly against my ankle, I can’t say. I twist my leg free with a growl, spinning back to put distance between us.

“You’re insufferable,” I snap, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension coiling there.

His grin widens, the sunlight catching on his teeth. “And you’re predictable. Shall we try again?”

I don’t answer. I lunge forward again, trying to be faster, sharper, unpredictable. I throw a series of punches, each one aimed to force him back, to make him work for his victories. For a moment, it seems like I have him; his weight shifts, his footing adjusts—but then his hand snakes out, seizing my wrist mid-swing.

“Not bad,” he murmurs, pulling me off balance. Before I can recover, he’s behind me, twisting my arm gently but firmly behind my back. His chest presses against my shoulders, solid and unyielding, and his breath ghosts against my ear.

“But not good enough.”

The low rasp of his voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I don’t even bother to suppress the snarl that escapes me. I stomp down hard on his foot, grinning in satisfaction when he hisses through his teeth. His grip slackens just enough for me to wrench free, spinning to face him once more.

“That’s more like it,” he says, shaking out his foot with an exaggerated wince. His eyes sparkle with mischief, a flicker of heat simmering just beneath the surface.

He’s toying with me. I know it, and he knows it. But I can’t help myself; the challenge in his gaze stirs something reckless in me, something that refuses to let him win.

We fall into a rhythm then, strikes and blocks, feints and counters, the sounds of our movements filling the space around us. His laughter rings out every time he dodges or counters me, a low, infuriating melody that fans the flames of my frustration.

“You’re quick,” he says, effortlessly deflecting a punch. “But you telegraph your moves. Like that little shift in your shoulder just now.” He ducks beneath my next strike, adding with a wink, “You’re giving me too much time to admire the view.”

My cheeks burn, my temper flaring hotter. I push harder, striking with all the strength and precision I can muster. But no matter how fast or clever I think I’m being, he’s always a step ahead, always one movement away from sweeping my legs out from under me.

And sweep them he does. Again.

I land flat on my back with a grunt, dirt clinging to my skin and hair. Before I can move, his boot hovers just above my chest—not pressing, not pinning, just a reminder that he’s still in control.

“Need a break, darling?” he asks, his voice laced with mock concern. “Or shall we keep going? I’m happy to wait if you need a moment to—”

I slap his boot away and scramble to my feet, my breathing ragged, my pride thoroughly bruised. “I’m going to wipe that smirk off your face, Rhysand.”

His grin deepens, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that sends my pulse skittering. “I’d like to see you try.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. This time, I focus, letting my frustration fuel me without clouding my mind. I circle him slowly, watching every subtle shift in his stance, every twitch of his muscles. When I strike, it’s deliberate—a feint to the left, a sharp kick to the right, a series of rapid punches meant to disorient him.

And for a moment, it works.

He moves to grab my wrist, but I twist out of his grip, using his momentum against him. My hands find his shoulders, and with a surge of strength I didn’t know I had, I shove him backward. He stumbles, his balance faltering just enough for me to tackle him.

The world tilts, and the next thing I know, we’re both on the ground. Dust rises around us, the faint scent of earth and sweat filling my senses. My thighs bracket his hips, my hands pinning his wrists to the dirt above his head.

For a moment, everything goes still.

His chest rises and falls beneath me, his dark hair spilling messily across the ground. Those violet eyes, usually so full of amusement, are wide with something else now—something sharper, hotter.

“Well,” he says after a beat, his voice rougher than before, “this is new.”

I lean down, close enough that my hair brushes against his cheek. “What’s the matter, High Lord?” I murmur, my breath ghosting over his lips. “Not so smug now, are we?”

His gaze flickers to my mouth, his eyes darkening with a heat that makes my stomach tighten. His wrists shift beneath my hands, testing my grip, but I press down harder, refusing to let him regain the upper hand.

His lips curve into a slow, wicked smile. “Careful, darling,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. “You might start something you can’t finish.”

The tension between us crackles like lightning, the air thick with the heat of the fight and something far more dangerous.

And gods help me, I don’t think I want to stop.

I stay there for a beat longer than I need to, straddling his waist, my hands firm on his wrists, holding him down. His chest rises and falls, brushing against mine with every labored breath. The moment hangs heavy between us, the fight draining away and leaving something far more dangerous in its wake.

I lean closer, so close that our noses nearly brush. His eyes are dark now, the violet swallowed by endless, stormy depths. His lips part slightly, as though he’s already anticipating what I’ll do next.

I let my gaze drop to his mouth, deliberately slow, watching as his tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. My own lips curve into a wicked smile as I lean even closer, until our breaths mingle, the heat of him sinking into my skin.

“You’re all talk, Rhysand,” I whisper, my voice low and taunting. My lips ghost against his, so faintly it could be an accident—or a promise. “For all your big words, I don’t think you can handle me.”

His breath catches, the smallest sound slipping from him—a soft, needy noise that makes satisfaction curl deep in my belly.

His hands tense beneath mine, his body taut like a bowstring, and for a moment, I think I’ve won. He looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world, his focus razor-sharp, his chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back.

But then I pull back, dragging my lips away before they can touch his.

I start to shift, moving to stand, intending to let him stew in his frustration. “Better luck next time, High Lord,” I toss over my shoulder, my voice dripping with mockery.

But I’ve barely lifted myself off him when everything shifts.

A startled gasp escapes me as his hands break free from my hold, his movements faster than I can react to. The world tilts, and suddenly, it’s my back hitting the ground, the air knocked from my lungs.

And now it’s him above me.

He looms over me, his body pressing me into the earth, his weight deliciously warm and solid. His hands pin mine on either side of my head, his fingers wrapping around my wrists with a firmness that sends a shiver racing down my spine.

“Was that supposed to rile me up?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a raw edge to it, a crack in the smooth facade that tells me exactly how much I’ve gotten under his skin.

His nose brushes against mine as he leans closer, so close that his hair falls around us like a curtain, shutting out the rest of the world. His scent surrounds me—crisp night air, cedar, and something uniquely him, intoxicating and overwhelming.

“You think you can tease me, taunt me, and just walk away?” His lips hover just above mine, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath. “Not a chance, darling.”

I swallow hard, my chest rising and falling against his, every inch of me hyper-aware of the way his body fits against mine, the heat rolling off him in waves. His eyes are locked on mine, dark and intense, like he’s daring me to look away.

But I don’t.

Instead, I smirk up at him, letting the smallest hint of challenge curl my lips. “What’s the matter, Rhysand? Losing your composure?”

A low, guttural sound rumbles in his chest, his grip on my wrists tightening just enough to send a thrill racing through me. “You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet threat, his lips grazing my ear as he speaks.

“Maybe I like the heat,” I shoot back, my voice breathless but steady, even as my pulse races like a wild thing beneath his touch.

His head dips lower, his mouth brushing the corner of my lips in a touch so fleeting it makes me ache. “Careful,” he murmurs again, his tone dark and laced with promise. “You might just get burned.”

The tension between us is electric, a live wire that hums and sparks, pulling us closer and closer until it feels like I might shatter beneath the weight of it.

I could stop this. I could break the spell, laugh it off, pretend this is still just a game.

The charged silence between us cracks like a dam breaking. I’m not sure who moves first—whether it’s his lips crashing against mine, or mine claiming his—but suddenly we’re kissing, and it’s anything but gentle.

It’s fierce, raw, and hungry. The kind of kiss that steals the air from your lungs and sets fire to every nerve in your body. His mouth moves against mine with an urgency that borders on desperation, like he’s been starving for this—starving for me—and finally has permission to feast.

I arch into him, my body instinctively responding to the weight of his pressing me into the dirt. His hands still pin my wrists above my head, but I’m not about to make this easy for him. I tilt my head, deepening the kiss, and then bite lightly at his bottom lip, earning a low, guttural growl that vibrates through his chest.

And just like that, the balance shifts.

I buck my hips up, trying to twist out of his grip. He’s strong—unbelievably so—but I’m nothing if not determined. I manage to wrench one hand free, my fingers tangling in his dark hair as I yank him closer, kissing him deeper. My nails graze his scalp, and he groans into my mouth, his control faltering for just a fraction of a second.

I take my chance, twisting us sideways. The momentum carries us over, and suddenly I’m the one on top, straddling him once more. His dark eyes flash with something between frustration and amusement as I grin down at him, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“Not so easy now, is it, High Lord?” I tease, my voice breathless yet triumphant.

His answer is a feral smile, and before I can fully savor my victory, he surges upward. His hands find my waist, and with a smooth, almost predatory movement, he flips us again.

The ground is rough beneath my back, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is him—his weight pressing into me, his hands sliding down to grip my hips as his lips claim mine once more. This time, the kiss is slower, deeper, but no less consuming.

I refuse to surrender.

My hands roam over his back, my nails dragging lightly against the taut muscles beneath his shirt. He shudders above me, and I take that as my opening, wrapping one leg around his waist and using the leverage to push him off balance.

We roll again, the world spinning around us as we grapple for control. Dirt and grass cling to our skin, and the cool evening air brushes against the heat of our flushed faces. I end up on top once more, my knees pinning his hips, my hands braced against his chest.

“Yield,” I demand, my voice rough with exertion, though my lips twitch into a smirk.

His gaze locks onto mine, dark and blazing. “Never,” he growls, and then his hands are on me again, one gripping the back of my neck, the other sliding down to press against the small of my back. He pulls me down, and our mouths collide once more.

This kiss is different. It’s not just hunger or passion—it’s a battle. A clash of wills as much as it is a meeting of lips. He kisses me like he’s trying to conquer me, and I kiss him back like I’m determined to prove I can’t be tamed.

Our breaths come hard and fast, mingling in the space between kisses. His hand slides up to cradle my jaw, his thumb brushing against my cheek in a touch that’s almost tender—almost, but not quite, because his lips are relentless, drawing me deeper and deeper into him.

I break away first, gasping for air, but before I can say anything—before I can even catch my breath—he flips us one last time.

Now it’s me beneath him, pinned and breathless, my wrists captured once more in his iron grip. His face hovers inches from mine, his lips curved into a smug, infuriatingly gorgeous smile.

“Do you yield now?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, his thumb brushing against the inside of my wrist in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.

I meet his gaze, defiance burning in my chest even as my heart races wildly. “Not a chance,” I whisper, my lips brushing his as I speak.

His answering laugh is dark and full of promise, and as he leans down to kiss me again, I know this battle is far from over.

Rhys’ mouth descends on mine again, stealing what little breath I have left. His lips are softer this time, his movements slower, more deliberate. He’s not trying to conquer me now—he’s savoring me. His tongue brushes against mine, coaxing a sigh from my throat, and his grip on my wrists tightens just enough to remind me who has the upper hand.

But I’m not about to admit defeat, not even with the ground cool beneath my back and his weight pressing me into the dirt. My leg hooks around his, trying to gain some kind of leverage, but all it does is bring him closer—too close. His chest is flush against mine now, his body an unyielding wall of heat and strength.

I bite his bottom lip lightly, pulling back just enough to catch my breath. “You’re insufferable,” I manage to whisper, my voice shaky but laced with playful defiance.

“And you’re irresistible,” Rhys counters smoothly, his eyes dark and glittering as his lips trail from my mouth to my jawline. He takes his time, teasing a path down the column of my throat. My skin burns under his touch, every nerve alight, and I let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

I arch against him, and he groans, the sound low and rough like it’s been dragged from the very depths of him. His lips hover just above my collarbone, his breath warm and tantalizing, when a familiar voice slices through the air.

“Training fields,” Azriel says dryly, his tone flat and unimpressed, “are for training. Not… whatever this is.”

My entire body stiffens, and I freeze beneath Rhys, mortified. I manage to tilt my head just enough to catch a glimpse of Azriel standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and his face impassive—though I swear there’s the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

Rhys doesn’t move immediately. Of course, he doesn’t. If anything, he looks even more infuriatingly relaxed, propping himself up on his elbows as he turns to glance over his shoulder.

“Whatever this is?” Rhys repeats with a smirk, his voice utterly unbothered. “I think it’s quite obvious, Az. Would you like a demonstration?”

I groan, my cheeks burning so hot I’m certain I could melt the dirt beneath me. Without thinking, I grab the front of Rhys’ shirt and tug him down, burying my face in the fabric to shield myself from Azriel’s gaze.

“Don’t you dare,” I hiss into Rhys’ chest, though it comes out muffled.

Rhys chuckles, the sound rich and deep and maddeningly pleased. “What?” he says innocently, though his hand slides to my back, holding me securely against him as though he has no intention of letting me hide anywhere else. “Azriel clearly interrupted something very important. He should be properly educated on the consequences of such rudeness.”

“You’re impossible,” I grumble, my voice still muffled.

“And yet, you can’t seem to resist me.” His voice dips lower, teasing, and I know without looking that he’s grinning like the cocky bastard he is.

“Rhys,” Azriel says again, this time with a sharper edge to his voice, being the only one who can talk to him like this. “Get up. Now.” 

“Fine, fine,” Rhys sighs, finally releasing my wrists and sitting back on his heels. He doesn’t move away, though—no, of course not. Instead, he leans down, brushing a kiss against my temple before murmuring, “We’ll finish this later, darling.”

I swat at his chest, still too embarrassed to meet Azriel’s gaze, but the traitorous part of me—the one still reeling from the heat of Rhys’ kiss—wonders if he means it.

Rhys stands, offering me a hand, and though I’m tempted to refuse, I know there’s no escaping this without his help. As he pulls me to my feet, I finally dare a glance at Azriel. His face is a mask of calm indifference, but the faint quirk of his lips betrays his amusement.

“If you’re done rolling around in the dirt,” Azriel says, his wings flaring slightly as he turns away, “some of us actually came here to train.”

I groan again, burying my face in my hands. Rhys’ laughter follows me as I stalk toward the nearest bench, determined to regain some semblance of dignity—even if my heart is still racing and my lips are still tingling from his kiss.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

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