#might also give her a nose job and muscles too

[banana-milk-enthusiast]

My middie Hyur looks mostly the same so I dont really have many complaints (will be using the 7.0 fantasia to make changes I've been thinking about for years)

My Viera on the other hand...... I now see what everyone was talking about. Why is everything so weirdly smooth now, like they all over-moisturized. Her cute nose also looks a lil nerfed.

She did end up looking much better in the actual benchmark though; so I assume its just the terrible character creation lighting ruining everything as per usual.

[scoobyrooster1]

"But to Qimir it also unearthed how little he truly knew you. And something he couldn't predict or control... that probably terrified him."

Their relationship is so realistically tense and terrible i LoVe it. Because YEAH Qimir having 'killed my last teacher <3 ' in their resume doesn't really mean anything good for YOU does it.

I agree! Thats something that Qimir might want to consider haha! Glad you like it!

She's Mine [Part 2]

Qimir x (she/her)!reader

Summary: You and Qimir travel with the crew to Corinth where you pose as a high class bidder at a black market auction. However, a few unexpected events complicates your mission leaving you wounded and with more questions than answers about the nature of the job. Warnings: Angst, cursing, violence Notes: This is a slow burn story between you and Qimir. I've been researching high republic history and I'm really excited for the next chapters!

*Im trying my best to use canon history but high republic era is a little difficult so there will be discrepancies and times where I have to improvise... bear with me!

She's Mine Masterlist

She's Mine [Intro] She's Mine [Part 1]

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

One month ago...

Under the thick canopy of trees, the clearing was small, just enough space for the two of you to move without constraint.

You and Qimir had stopped on this planet for a brief respite, also provding one of the few places you could train without drawing unwanted attention.

"Again," Qimir instructed, his voice steady and commanding.

You tightened your grip on the wooden stick in your hand. The makeshift training weapon was a far cry from a lightsaber, but it would have to do. You squared your stance, bringing the stick up in a defensive position.

Qimir moved fluidly as he swung his own stick toward you. You managed to block the first strike, the wood clashing with a sharp crack. But Qimir was relentless. His next move was faster, a low sweep aimed at your legs. You jumped back just in time, narrowly avoiding the strike. You were able to catch your breath if only for a moment as he spoke.

“Keep your elbow up,” he reminded you. “Or else I'll catch you before you can block.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his advice even as your muscles burned from the exertion. It had been a long time since you trained like this. Your heart beat inside your chest so rapidly and with such force that you thought it would burst. You had to remember to control you breathing, only letting air pass through your nose, and conserve what little stamina you had left.

Qimir lunged again. You lifted your arm to block, but your elbow dropped just a fraction of an inch too low. His stick slipped past your defense, tapping your ribs with just enough force to sting. Your torso buckled over in response.

Stepping back to give you a moment to recover, he didn't need to tell you what you had done wrong.

"I get it." You said sternly.

"You need to anticipate the next move. Don't just react—predict."

You clenched your jaw in frustration, wiping the sweat from your face with the back of your hand.

You took a deep breath and adjusted your stance, raising your arm higher this time. Qimir watched you carefully, nodding in approval before launching into another series of attacks. You parried each one, your movements more precise now, more controlled.

The two of you moved in a deadly dance, sticks clashing and feet shifting on the soft earth. You began to lose yourself in the rhythm of it, your mind clearing as your body took over.

It was just you and Qimir, the world narrowed down to the space between your bodies.

Until his stick found your ribs again.

Qimir stepped back, lowering his weapon. "Better," he said, his voice softer now, less harsh. "Still a lot to learn."

You made a face about to mock him for saying a high and mighty master line.

He caught you before you could. "Don't start."

You just laughed, then nodded, panting from the effort. Your arms felt like lead, but there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing you had improved, even if just a little.

"Thats enough for today," he said, tucking his stick under his arm.

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

You jolted awake shaking off the memory that overcame your senses.

You had been traveling for a few hours and had fallen asleep regret-tingly straining your neck in the process. Qimir sat on the other side of the cargo hold.

After the heated discussion you both had… yeah it was probably for the best.

You had both taken precautions to hide any personal items that wouldn’t classify as civilian.

I.E. one cortosis helmet, vambrace, and lightsaber.

You remembered tracing your fingers over the embedded scars of the metal. It was terrifyingly beautiful.

Try it on.

Those words sent shivers through your entire body.

You wondered if when you returned to Qimirs little backwater planet, you too would craft something made of the precious metal.

Would we ever be able to return?

"Put these on"

Ian had thrown a duffle at your feet. You unzipped the bag to find far nicer clothes than the ones you were wearing.

"What happened to drawing less attention?"

“You’ll be bidding with some serious credits, you need to look as though you didn’t just crawl out of a bantha pit.”

You didn’t bother to scowl at Ian for his cruel joke.

“And who will I be today?”

“Bidder 79.”

“Lovely.”

The outfit was formal, modest, a suit-like ensemble made from breathable fabric in dark hues of blue and gray. You took one of the scarves from the bag and wrapped it around your head and hair. The less recognizable you were, the better.

“Don’t look at anyone, don’t talk to anyone, don’t answer any questions you don’t have to—”

“I think she gets it” Qimir interrupted, his voice curt.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Ian finished.

You gave Ian all the confirmation he deserved. "Don't do anything you would do... got it."

You were dropped at the nearest corner with Rod following closely behind.

The coordinates Ian had provided led you to a rough, gritty part of the city, where the streets were narrow and the air thick with the scent of smoke and decay. The towering buildings around you were a patchwork of cracked concrete, rusted metal, and flickering neon signs, casting eerie glows onto the damp pavement. You approached the entrance of a large, nondescript building, its facade faded and crumbling, blending seamlessly into its surroundings.

Pushing through the heavy, rusted door, you stepped into a dimly lit lobby. The few figures loitering in the shadows eyed you with suspicion. You made your way to an elevator at the far end of the room, its grated door screeching as you pulled it open.

The elevator groaned to life, descending into the depths below the city. As you felt the air grow cooler and the hum of the city above fade into silence, your pulse quickened. When the doors finally slid open, you were greeted by a stark contrast.

Before you lay the Corinth black market, a sprawling underground bazaar hidden beneath the city. The space was vast, its ceiling arched and lined with cables and dim, industrial lights casting a dull glow over the scene. The market was alive with activity—merchants hawking their illicit wares from makeshift stalls, the air buzzing with whispered deals and low, guttural conversations in a dozen different languages. The scent of exotic spices, machinery, and lawlessness filled your nose.

The Corinth black market was a place where laws were only mere suggestions.

Rules, Rules, Rules... If you don't follow them, you never have to break them.

Minutes later, you found yourself seated in an uncomfortable chair, dark lenses shielding your eyes as you scanned the stage ahead. You were in a small room dimly lit but far richer than the bazaar outside. The items up for auction you guessed based on size and weight was a mix of trinkets and far more dangerous contraband, all locked away in secure containers.

Your client had provided you with only a number, leaving you in the dark about what you were actually bidding on. Your job was to outbid everyone else. Rod, as Ian assured you, would make sure you had the funds to back up whatever figure you landed on. How they’d managed that was another mystery, but one you didn’t need to solve.

“Item number XN2187”

Your eyes tracked the stage.

This was it.

What the staff placed on the table next made absolutely no sense to you.

It was a book... or... a journal?

"Let’s start the bid at 100,000 credits."

Maker.

You had to withhold your gasp.

Two people had already called out raising the bid to 250,000 within 3 seconds.

You threw your card up.

“300,000.”

You saw another card go up near the front.

“350,000”

Maker how could a journal be worth this much.

You raised your card again with no hesitation.

“400,000.”

They matched it again. "4500,000."

“500,000”

It was all fake credits and Ian had given you your instructions... attain that item at whatever price... better to end it right here.

You waited for their response, but there was none.

Got it.

“Sold...to number 79.”

Small claps ensued.

You headed to the back of the stage where the transactions were being held.

Suddenly your path was blocked, now inches away from a hooded figure.

"Whatever your being paid, we can double it." They hissed in your ear.

Rod glanced at the human stranger with his fixed glowing pinpoint eyes that seemed to show concern even for a droid.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." You continued to walk past them.

They grabbed your forearm. Their grip was strong.

“You take it and you’re a dead woman walking.”

You could now see their face. A male human with rusty brown hair and dark eyes.

You shook off the strangers hand and stated with cold indifference, "I already am."

Your response seemed to catch him off guard.

You shrugged him off turning away, finally reaching the desk behind the curtains.

"Bidder 79?" the attendant confirmed.

"That's right. Item XN2187."

"Please have your droid exchange the credits for your purchase."

Rod stepped forward, inserting his chip into the computer. A moment later, a man presented the box.

The attendee looked at the screen, seeming pleased. "Thank you madam. Have a wonderful evening."

Your breath resumed as you smoothly took the box and gave the courtier a smile. What ever Rod had done it had worked. You cracked it open checking that the item was inside.

Rodney turned in the other direction taking a different route to meet back up at the rendezvous.

That had been surprisingly easy.

"See you back at the ship." You whistled as you turned into the crowd behind.

Something struck your mind. The force had shifted near you and you could feel it. You started scanning your surroundings more carefully.

Watch out.

You unholstered your gun but it was too late.

It was all of 2 seconds before you felt the box knocked out from under your forearm. The force of a back kick to your chest sent you crashing to the ground. Dirt filled your mouth as you hit the earth, the impact reverberating through your body. Your blaster had been sent flying across the ground.

Damn it had been a while since you were hit that hard.

Gritting your teeth, you turned to face your assailant— female Twi'lek with green skin, her imposing figure casting a shadow over you. Her face sheathed in fabric and some manner of breathing apparatuses. Time seemed to slow, the sounds of the chaotic crowd fading into the background.

The journal had fallen out of the box now laying between you and your attacker.

It was too valuable to lose. You couldn't just run.

You pushed yourself off the ground, moving faster than you had fallen. As the warrior lunged for the book, you reacted instinctively, snapping your leg out to kick their hand away. The clash of metal and bone echoed in your ears as you simultaneously snatched journal, pulling it close to your chest. The adrenaline surged through your veins as you regained your footing, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

She charged at you closing the distance swiftly. You dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding her grasp. She swung her arm in a wide arc that forced you to duck, the wind from her strike grazing the top of your head.

With the book still clutched tightly to your chest, you spun around, using your momentum to drive your elbow into the Twi'leks side. The impact caused her to stagger.

She recovered swiftly, raising her arm to strike again this time brandishing a small blade. You heaved your body from left to right to dodge, the knife dancing centimeters away from your chest.

You dodged another stab. But she was smart. The Twi'lek flipped the blade through the air catching it with her left hand. You felt a sharp pain spread in your chest. Too distracted with the wound in your right side, you failed to notice her right hand swinging towards you head.

Your brain rattled inside your skull as you hit the earth. Applying pressure to the bleed you turned your pounding head upwards. She picked up the journal from the floor, her other hand now brandishing a blaster pointed directly at your forehead.

"Should've taken the deal"

You only stared down the barrel of her gun. This couldn't be the end.

You wouldn't let it be the end. You blinked. She pulled the trigger. A shot rang out.

You weren't dead.

You stared at the gun.

The blaster shot hung suspended in mid-air, glowing red just inches from your nose.

It floated there, trembling as if struggling against an invisible force, caught between you and the barrel.

Qimir.

You almost couldn't breathe and realized it could only last for so long. You ducked your head before the shot could continue its intended path, piercing the dirt behind you, leaving a small scorched black hole in its wake.

Your breathing was rapid and deep as stared at the hole in the ground that was intended for your head.

The Twi'leks eyes widened. Baffled by what she had just witnessed.

"You... you're a jedi." She sounded as disgusted as she was surprised.

“Not quite.”

In a fluid motion, you kicked a cloud of dust up towards her face. She loosen her grip on the journal stumbling back. Sprinting past her you grabbed the book, the pain of the stab wound luckily numbed by the adrenaline coursing through you. She roared in frustration, but you were already several paces ahead.

You could hear her quick footsteps behind you, but you didn't look back. Your only thought was to put as much distance between you and her as possible.

You ducked into an alleyway once you thought it was safe to stop, determined to sacrifice just a moment to see what you were truly risking your life for.

You opened the book.

Scribbles you couldn't understand filled page after page. Flipping through it all you couldn't make any sense of it.

You stopped at the back of the last page.

Written then carved delicately into the leather near the binding was a name.

Mari San Tekka.

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

The plan had gone off without a hitch... if you hadn't included the unknown assailant that almost put a blaster hole through your skull.

Closing the blast doors, you buckled over, heart still racing. You ran your fingers over your cheek which was tender to the touch. It had to be badly bruised and you could better feel the one developing across your chest now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Not to mention the blood dribbling down your side.

"That went well."

Qimir had caught you off guard. You didn't think he'd be back to the ship by now with how much of a crowd that stood between you and the ship.

You inhaled deeply resting against the cold metal wall your right hand still pressing the right side of your ribs.

“You had me worried.”

You paused for a moment. You had him… worried?

"I thought I'd have to find a new acolyte after today."

You relaxed your shoulders dropping your hands into fists.

"You son of a bitch."

He smiled with his teeth, his eyes taunting, but his smile faltered when he saw your now exposed lower chest wound.

"That looks serious." You couldn't tell if he was still joking or being earnest. "And what a foul name to call with your mas--"

The ship doors hissed open.

In walked Ian and Rod.

Qimir went quiet not daring to finish his sentence. They didn't need to know what you and Qimir were. If they did, they'd all be dead.

The Jedi say I can't exist. They see my face... They all die.

If that's what it took for Qimir to shut his mouth then fine.

You snapped back to reality reapplying pressure to your side and took the opportunity to interrogate Ian.

"What the hell was that." You yelled.

Ian look disgruntled. "Seems like this cargo is more high priority than I thought."

"Ya think?" You only gave him a pleading look in response.

"Look nothing has changed. You knew what you signed up for."

"I didn't sign up for this... remember?"

"Rod, signal Shaun and Kiro. Prep the hyperdrive, set a course for Canto Bight... You might wanna take care of that." He motioned to the wound that was still leaking blood at your side. "Theres a med bay. Two rights and left."

"Thanks." You started walking towards the doors slightly lightheaded from the blood loss.

He extended a hand. "Here let me help. That looks bad."

You waved him off. "I've got it." Before disappearing down the hall to the med bay.

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

Luckily, Ian had the sense to keep a decent med droid on board. With how sketchy most of his jobs were, it would be foolish not to. The droid had effectively stopped the bleeding, stitched it close, applied bacta fluid, and recommended a pressure dressing before shutting down.

Okay, so not a fully functional droid.

You pulled out the rolls of gauze and compression wraps. The droid had cut through your bloody shirt to access the wound, leaving the tattered fabric hanging from your shoulders. In the mirror, you could see the damage--your chest was mildly bruised, the skin slowly turning a deep purple, especially closer to the wound. You applied a generous amount of gauze and began wrapping the bandage around your chest.

You managed 6 tight loops before a sharp pain made you wince, the movement of extending your torso and raising your arms too much to bear. Breathing deeply, you tried to steady both your head and your heart.

Then, a sudden movement caught your eye, and you nearly reopened the wound as you jumped—Qimir was standing in the now open doorway, silently watching you.

"Maker, you scared me... How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long enough."

"Ha. Ha." You mocked, still guarding your chest, covered but only by a sheer wrap.

"Need help?"

"I got it."

He gave you a look that said, Yeah, sure you do.

You sighed deeply. Every breath was painful. "Fine."

He walked up to where you sat on the med table, glancing at the now deactivated med droid.

"The droid couldn’t do it?"

You tilted your head in response.

"I can call Ian to wrap the rest. He seemed pretty eager," you teased.

Qimir clenched his jaw, clearly not amused, and quickly seized the large roll of gauze from your hand.

"Put your arms around me."

You shot him an incredulous look.

"Maker, you're difficult," he muttered, rolling his eyes dramatically. With a gentle touch, he grabbed your hands and placed them on his shoulders. Then, he took the roll and began wrapping it around the rest of your chest.

You let your hands move closer to his neck, lacing your fingers together and allowing your arms to sag, finding a small amount of relief.

"It's a faulty piece of equipment," you continued. "Leave it to Ian to have a semi-working med droid on a risky job."

Qimir's eyes were only focused on his hands, meticulously layering the bandaging over your wound, making sure it was secure.

"Hey, my eyes are up here," you quipped.

His focus remained unwavering, but you noticed a small smile tug at the corners of his lips.

You allowed yourself to dissolve into this moment. It was innocent, and it was yours.

He finished the last length of the bandage, gently tucking it into the top wrap. His fingers brushed against your skin, and your breath hitched slightly. If he noticed, he pretended not to. Both his hands now rested softly against your ribs, checking the stability of his work. Your hands remained on his shoulders.

He looked up at you.

You met his gaze.

"If you let someone get that close, you must make every decision with confidence and conviction. Remember—"

"Don't react, predict," you repeated the mantra.

"There's no room for error in a fight that close."

"Yes, master," you added with a touch of sarcasm.

He only nodded, still getting accustomed to your use of the title.

"Thank you," you said, recalling what had happened only hours ago.

"For the wrap?"

"No. For saving me."

"Saving you?"

"The blaster shot."

"... You're welcome."

He released you, making you remove your arms from his shoulders.

The moment was gone... and something in you would've done anything to get it back.

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

The sound of the ship rattling against the void of space ripped you from sleep. The walls trembled, and a deep, ominous roar echoed from the rear of the ship, filling you with an immediate sense of dread. You ducked out of your cot.

Qimir was already on his feet.

Before you could fully grasp what was happening, he was out the door, and you were right behind him. The cold, metallic floor vibrated beneath your bare feet as you both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor.

Suddenly, the ship lurched violently, a brutal force that sent both of you stumbling. You felt yourself losing balance, your body careening toward the metal wall. But before you could brace for impact, Qimir’s hand shot out, grabbing you by the waist. He swiftly twisted his body, pulling you against him, sending himself backwards.

His back slammed into the wall with a sickening thud. You felt the force of it reverberate through him as he grunted, but his grip on you remained firm.

For a second your chin rested on his collar bone. His mouth grazing your forehead and hair. The heat of his body was a stark contrast to the cold metal wall you were expecting moments ago. You were pressed against his chest, your breath catching as you looked up at him. His expression unreadable.

"Your stitches." He questioned.

"Fine." You assured him.

He only scanned you for a moment then let go of you continuing to walk down the corridor. You hesitated for one second, your heart still racing, before following him.

When you had finally reached the cockpit you found Ian walking toward you and through the doorway before grunting. "Might be a problem with the hyperdrive. We have to make a pit stop."

Any thoughts of Qimirs skin against yours was gone.

You followed him back down the hall.

"Qimir."

He stopped.

You gave him a look.

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

"Mari San Tekka” he repeated the name you had given.

“Do you know that name?”

“Not the person, but the San Tekkas were a great dynasty, closely affiliated with the Republic as hypersurveyors”

"Hypersurveyors?"

"Mappers who worked for the clan, charting new hyperspace routes."

"The writing, I didn't see it at first but they could've been notes or calculations."

"Could you read any of it."

"I've seen hyperspace calculations before, but I didn't recognize the figures in this book. Why would someone risk so much to retrieve it?"

Qimir took a long pause. "I don't know."

The uncertainty laced in Qimirs voice irked you more than you'd like to admit.

———————————————

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Cam-Girl!Reader: His Personal Assistant

A/N: I just— Azriel in a suit and tie? Getting all hot and bothered because he recognises reader from her late-night streams that he spends his evenings watching? How am I supposed to resist that?

Also, apologies to anyone named Kieth :)

Warnings: slight work-place harassment

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Really?”

Helion gives you a smile, “I told you: anything. I can’t imagine why you would want to, but—”

You’ve already launched yourself at him, arms wrapping securely over his wonderfully muscled shoulders, dark skin contrasting gloriously with the crisp white polo he’s wearing that stretches over his chest. The top few buttons are undone in the summer heat, giving a simultaneously tantalising and teasing view. Enough to have your mouth watering, enough to pique your interest, but not enough to reveal anything else. An appetising suggestion.

“Thank-you!” You squeeze him tight and his laugh reverberates through your breasts, nipples peaking in response to the deliciously deep sound. His large hands span your waist, squeezing back and his breath tickles your neck. You press a smacking kiss to his cheekbone, sliding down his body until your flats land on the terrace—warmed by the sun.

“I’m not sure you’ll be thanking me by the end of the month, Luscious,” he chuckles, using your stage name, releasing you as you step away again, still smiling broadly. “I think you’ll be bored to tears by the end of your first day there.”

“Nonsense. I’ve always wanted to see how normal people live their lives,” you counter, grinning confidently. “Besides, how did you manage? It’s not like I have a particularly outstanding CV or anything…” You squint your eyes at him, “what strings did you pull to get me this job?”

Helion smiles, gesturing to continue the walk through his garden. “A good friend from my university days owed me a favour for something in the past,” he explains, eyes twinkling. “One of his directors has a habit of overworking himself—he thinks a personal assistant might do the trick. You’ll be there to give them an extension on finding a suitable fill for the role.”

Your nose crinkles a little, “so…what’ll I be doing? And what sort of job is it? Tell me I’m going to get one of those fancy chairs. You know, all big and executive? That have wheels on the bottom and spin around?” You ask excitedly. You gasp, “will I get a desk, too?” Helion laughs again, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “You’ll be filled in on the details when you get there. As far as I know, it’ll be fairly straight forward: photocopying, emailing, getting coffees—general admin tasks.”

Sounds fun—interesting.

“You probably won’t sit in on any meetings, since he runs a pretty prestigious law firm, but hopefully it won’t be too much of a bore.” He winks over his shoulder and you grin broadly. “How big is the building? Is it far from me?”

“Yes, it’s a skyscraper. And about a twenty minute drive—if you avoid rush hour,” he replies, moving toward the fountain. You could whoop with joy, but manage to restrain yourself. “Thanks again, Helion,” you say, still bursting with happiness—you’re going to get to work a real, normal job!

Your boss just grins over his shoulder, eyes gleaming, “don’t thank me yet.”

You don’t really consider his warning, instead launching more questions his way: What will you wear? How long is the work day? Will you get a decent lunch break?

————

Monday morning, you’re up and ready.

You’d selected your clothes the day before, having gone on a mini shopping spree to get in some appropriate attire for a law firm—which was both and arduous and fun task. A law firm…how grown-up!

The week before, you’d poured over the short and concise email you’d been forwarded from Helion, informing you about dress codes, break times, and when you’re expected to be there, accompanied with parking directions. You’d smiled to yourself that night, before stripping off your clothes, hopping in your shower, then switching on the webcam as you settled in your spare bedroom.

Helion hadn’t been lying when he’d told you the building was a skyscraper, complete with large windows and—most impressively—solar panels covering the elevated roof. The sun is out, making you second guess your cardigan, but hopefully there will be AC inside to counteract the heat. Checking your phone for the email, you step inside the building.

Five minutes later, you’re knocking on a looming door that leads to a room overlooking the entire city—he’s on the top floor. When there’s no answer, you peer at your phone, rereading the email. You’re definitely where you’re supposed to be—maybe a little early, but that’s never a bad thing. You perk up when you hear your name, footsteps drawing closer as you turn to greet whoever it is.

You conceal your shock perfectly—he’s so young! He can’t be older than his early-thirties—and so handsome, too! What a pleasant surprise. Your red-painted lips split into a carefully crafted smile, designed to be both alluring and demure, extending your hand before you, “I am expected, aren’t I?”

The man stops before you, eyes flicking to your hand as he grasps it firmly, gaze piercing into you. The shake is firm and assertive, more of a yank on your arm than the polite gesture you had expected. “You were supposed to wait at reception to be escorted to my office,” he says in a stern, but not unkind, voice. “I was expecting to find you there, but it seems you like to take initiative.”

Your smile morphs to a grin, “that I do.”

His lip twitches, but he gestures to his door, walking inside as he moves for his desk, muttering something under his breath: handful, indeed. You shut the door behind yourself, the slightly clouded floor to ceiling windows that separate his office from the hallway registering dimly in the back of your mind.

“You must be Rhys, then. The friend Helion mentioned,” you probe, taking the seat in front of his large desk. The chair is wonderfully comfy, making you want to purr. Somehow, you don’t feel he would appreciate the reaction. “Rhysand, yes. But you will not be addressing me so,” he replies smoothly, opening his suitcase and pulling out his laptop. “How much has Helion told you about your work experience?” He asks without looking up, preoccupied with commencing what is probably his daily routine of work.

“He said something about working as a temporary P.A. to one of your workaholic directors,” you drawl. There’s that lip twitch again. Not too bad, then. First impressions seem to be going okay. “He also mentioned not getting any ideas concerning bringing my prior work experience to your firm,” you say smoothly, offering a polite smile, watching for his reaction.

He doesn’t remove his attention from the laptop, deft fingers already flying over the keys, features a mask of vague amusement as he gives a brief nod. Right, a power play, then. He wants to make it clear that you’re working for him—one step out of line and you’re done. At least, that seems to be the rough message he’s sending.

“Say, did Helion mention anything about that?” You ask, feeling him out a little. “About what?” He asks, absently. Definitely a line in the sand. Helion must have mentioned your attitude. Fine, then. You can play pretty-personal-assistant. You can be a good little corporate slave. That’s your talent, after all: switching your personas to keep people at your feet.

“About my main job. In entertainment?” You ask, the smile turning demure, while keeping your tone polite. “I know his own line of work, yes. And no.” He looks up from his laptop, eyes turning cold and stern, “you are not to indulge in any sort of work that does not relate directly to tasks you have been given by my Director.”

Your smile widens a little, “understood, Mr. Rhysand Sir.”

————

Helion hasn’t prepared you enough.

Why hadn’t he mentioned the man you’d be working for has looks to put your male counterparts to shame? With a face like that, you’re mildly surprised your underwear stays on and doesn’t drop to your ankles. That a puddle of wetness doesn’t seep into the chair you’re currently seated on.

You stand to greet him, holding out your hand, hoping he’ll be a little gentler than Rhys was. But as soon as his eyes settle on you—red lips, pretty pearl earrings, sweet little pencil skirt—nothing. Not even a blink, or a double-take. Not even a roll of his throat. And it seems his eyes have already flicked back to the CEO by the time you’ve realised he is blatantly refusing to shake your hand. Your teeth grind as you bring your arm back to yourself. For a brief moment you wonder if it’s distain for your occupation—but Rhys had made it very clear he’s the only one who knows about your situation, so it can’t be that.

Of course you get stuck with the pissy, entitled Director who probably thinks women still belong solely in the kitchen and are only good for popping out babies one after another. You feel bad for his wife—if he has one. You should have given some thought regarding to the type of men you’ll be dealing within this discipline. Probably grew up with topiary surrounding his father’s estate, with an obscenely long gated driveway to flaunt it. His own house probably came with underfloor heating and bedrooms that are purely decorative. Probably says scone instead of scon.

“This is my Director, Azriel. Azriel, this young lady will be helping relieve your obscene workload,” Rhys introduces, a plain smile on his handsome face that somehow isn’t as interesting now that this classically-carved, marvellously-muscled, entitled ass has entered your world. “This is her?” He asks, keeping his attention off you. Not showing so much as an ounce of respect. He’s getting on your nerves and you’ve known him less than a minute.

Rhys nods his head once, a swift, concise movement, “correct. You will show her around the firm, demonstrate how to use the necessary equipment, and make sure she is working to the overall exceptional degree that is expected within my company.” Internally, you’re trying to keep yourself together—remarkably tricky. Working to not just a satisfying, but an exceptional degree? With this stick in the mud? All too suddenly, Helion’s warnings are making sense.

Azriel barely nods, “understood.”

He turns for the door, a silent dismissal passing between them, not once looking at you as he makes for the exit. It takes less than a second for you to realise he’s expecting you to follow behind him, like an obedient dog, but you manage to make a graceful exit, muttering a relatively polite, thank-you for your time to Rhys before you’re striding to match Azriel’s brisk pace. You’re not sure he’s even doing it intentionally, with those long legs of his—finely muscled, just like the rest of him. Dickhead.

————

The first place he takes you to is his own office, stopping by to drop off his satchel and turn his laptop on, preparing for the long day ahead. Then he’s escorting you out, striding down the hallway, directing you to a new location. It’s all rather terrifying—the speed and precision with which he conducts himself. Brutal efficiency lacing every movement.

You pick up your own pace to match his, having to kick up to a slightly faster walk than usual to keep up with him. He shows you to your temporary office—across the hall from his own—along with how to use the photocopying feature on the chunky block of machinery at the side of the lounge, as well as how to scan documents in. He shows you once how to do everything, then lets you try your hand at it. Unsurprisingly, you stumble the first two times, either forgetting to select an A4 sized piece of paper, or forgetting to make sure the documents are scanned in with colour.

Despite his previously sour attitude, he’s patient with your learning, not snapping at you when you get something wrong. Not encouraging you, either. You can’t tell where you stand, and as a socialite, it unnerves you—you can’t get a read on him. But you can’t let him intimidate you. He seems like the type to go for blood if he detects it.

“We’ll move on to filing,” he says, once you successfully scan, and photocopy a Grant of Probate, and driving licence. “Any questions?” You get the vague impression it’s not a sincere offer, but maybe you’re making unjust inferences based on the assumptions of his character. Maybe that’s also why you ask the first thing that pops into your mind. “Do you think you could slow your pace a little?” You give him a shy smile, aiming for humour as an ice-breaker, “I’m surprised my heels haven’t fallen off with how fast you’re going.”

His features don’t shift. Not even a twitch of the lips, like with Rhys. He only nods curtly, then sets off at a slightly less demanding pace than before, heading to his office. On the way, you pass by a young man who seems to be a similar age to you—perhaps a little younger— with light brown skin, eyes the colour of matcha tea, and lashes you would die for. He gives you a polite, albeit shy, smile as he passes, which you return.

“Who was that?” You ask nosily once the young man has passed.

“That was Gabrielle. He’s doing an apprenticeship under Kieth. You might run into the two of them over your time here; Gabrielle will have similar tasks as you.” Azriel explains in his monotonous voice—strangely pleasant. You wonder what it would sound like first thing in the morning. You smile mischievously to yourself as you imagine getting him into your bed. All the ways you could blow his mind. You have a hard time imagining he’s particularly fun in the sheets, with his stick-in-the-mud attitude and stick-in-the-mud character.

“And what about Kieth? Is he also a Director? Like you, Azriel?” His eyes flick briefly to you—light brown—before cutting ahead. “Correct.”

You resist the urge to lick your lips. You already know you’re going to fuck him—it’s just a matter of figuring out what kind of woman he wants. You’re going to break him down, until he’s begging for more. No matter Rhys probably won’t want you sleeping with one of his directors behind his back, but he’s not going to find out.

Azriel won’t even know what hit him until his knees are buckling.

You eye the way his suit seems be perfectly tailored to every round muscle, every bone and fibre of his body. Wrapped to perfection, like a sweet, little Christmas present for you to rip into.

————

As soon as you’re home, you’re stepping into the shower, needing to release the tension from your shoulders.

He’d worked you within an inch of your life.

At first, you’d made his coffee too hot, then it was too sweet, and the third time he seemed to have given up, grunting after the first sip—though it was finished by lunch. Then, he’d had you scan a two-hundred page document to him, which had taken you an hour and five minutes of monotonous lowering the machines lid, allowing the blinding white light to slide beneath the glass, changing the page, lining up the corners, then repeating the whole process. It was a task in itself to not drift off and forget if you’d already scanned in a page. Not to mention the additional half an hour spent waiting for the damn file to send.

That hadn’t even been the worst of it. The entire afternoon had been spent filing: finding papers that needed to be strung into the same file, ordering them chronologically—which sometimes meant removing months worth of documents just to slide one stupid printed email to the back of a Correspondence File.

The upside of the afternoon? It had presented you with many opportunities to bend over a cabinet, leaning on a file draw while you sorted through the papers to find the date you were searching for. You’d switch it around sometimes, too, leaning so you were facing him, flashing him a peak down your shirt every now and then.

The downside of the afternoon? His eyes had never left his computer. It was like you didn’t even exist. What sort of man doesn’t take advantage of fate when a pretty lady is offering a plentiful view of her backside? What sort of man doesn’t take advantage of you when you offer him a chance? It’s insulting…but you suppose it’s only been one day. Maybe he’s shy—you’ll have to step up your game.

Maybe you can spill some coffee between his legs. Or wear one of your more sheer tops with a dark bra. Or un-pop a few buttons on your shirt when he works you too hard. Really, he has no right to be so focused on his work when you’re in the same room as him, in your pretty little heels, and pretty little cardi, and pretty little skirt.

Maybe he doesn’t want pretty and little, though. Maybe you should try to be a little more “executive”, like him.

You fall asleep pretty promptly that night, schemes for how to ruffle Azriel’s feathers playing through your devious, sex-addled brain.

You still have a whole month to get him addicted to you. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

————

When you get in the next morning—a whole half an hour before you’re required—you head straight to your office. Only to see Azriel already sat at his desk, deft fingers flying over the keys, looking as stern as yesterday. Why is he in at 7:30 in the morning? From the look of it, he’s been there for a while already.

His dark eyes flick over the lid of his sleek laptop, catching you watching. Without so much as a word of greeting, he returns his attention to his computer, “you aren’t due for another half an hour.” Even if it isn’t a direct invitation, you step into his office, moving to be a few steps from his large desk. “I was planning on secretly sneaking in a couple of practice runs for coffee this morning, but it seems you’ve caught me,” you reply, gently.

Nonsense. You’re supposed to be mirroring him today. People like others who operate in similar styles to them, so you’ll act like a calmer counterpart—more feminine. Softer at the edges. So you straighten a little, standing with elegant poise, raising your chin ever so slightly. “You don’t need thirty minutes to make a good cup of coffee,” he says, eyes remaining on the screen of his computer. “Come back in half an hour when the work day commences.”

“No filing you want me to do? Get me warmed up for the work day?” You ask casually, as if remarking on the weather. His brow dips almost imperceptibly, “come back at Eight.”

“Just eager to help with your workload, Azriel.” You nearly smack yourself as the habitual lilt honeys your tongue. Executive. Not flirtatious. You clear your throat, trying again. “Eight it is, then. I’ll be here on the dot.”

You close the door behind you, heading across the hallway to your office, settling down into your chair—that has wheels. If everything else is miserable, at least you can roll across the floor with ease. You tap your desk restlessly, before logging onto the computer. As soon as you lay eyes on the digital scans from yesterday in your emails, you spin to the side and pull out your phone. Time for an update, anyway.

Undoing enough buttons to easily reveal your tits, hiking up your skirt, you snap a pretty picture, uploading it with a few taps of your fingers. The light is catching on your shiny red lips, making them appear plump, and Luscious. The image loads quickly, followed by a short caption. Getting a little handsy at work. Think I should fuck my boss? xxx

Deciding to be productive, you set yourself straight, and make for your door. You’d passed a coffee house on the way in, and just because you can’t make the bitter liquid in a way to satisfy him, doesn’t mean somebody else can’t be called in. Surely a barista will be a suitable improvement.

————

When you return, you decant the coffee into a nondescript white mug, careful not to burn yourself while handling the hot liquid. Maybe you undo an extra button, too, so he’ll have a little treat when you lean down to place the mug on his desk.

It’s eight on the dot when you knock on his door before before entering. Your plans are fucked sideways when you spot another man stood in his office. Legs in the usual man-spread, a little wider than shoulder width apart, with his hands in his pockets. Someone who’s used to feeling at ease in most spaces, who’s confident in his ability to own and dominate any room he’s in. He reeks of entitlement.

However, you’re pleasantly surprised when he turns at the sound of the door opening, eyes running appreciatively up and down your body, resting for an inappropriate moment on your chest—the undone button. He’s blandly handsome, with a hard jaw and slightly wavy brown hair that’s pushed back from his face. A slight shadow of stubble is already darkening his chin, not enough to look raggedy—more rugged masculinity. It suits him.

“And who’s this little lady?” The man asks, interest sparking in his chocolatey brown eyes. You smile, extending the hand that’s not holding his coffee, “I’m his Personal Assistant—”

“Secretary.” Your attention flicks to Azriel, but he’s eyeing the man before you, sternly. “She’s filling the role of my secretary, until a permanent replacement is found.” You fight the urge to furrow your brow, instead returning your attention to the man before you, who’s still regarding you with male interest.

“There you go then,” you smile, red lips parting enough to lift into a small grin, “I’m his secretary.” His large hand grips yours roughly—demandingly—as he shakes it. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Secretary,” he replies, mouth lifting into a charming grin. “I’m another Director here.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper as he leans in, breath smelling faintly of mint, “the better one, that is.” He winks then stands straighter, and you release a soft laugh. “I don’t suppose you have a role open for a secretary, do you?” You tease back, noting the way his eyes flicker with approval.

“If one ever opens up, you’ll be the first one I contact. Personally,” the man drawls, eyes again dipping to your chest, and you can practically see the fantasies in his gaze. Maybe you’re wasting your time on Azriel.

But then the man turns away from you, “how come you’re treated to a Personal Assistant? Where’s my pretty lady to get me coffee in the morning?” You smile dutifully at the flattery, but Azriel looks mildly pissed off. “She’s my secretary, and she does a lot more than get me coffee in the morning,” he says sharply.

You take the chance to walk round to Azriel’s side of the desk, leaning over slightly as you place the coffee beside him. You intentionally angle your body away from the man, showing the discreet view to Azriel, but his eyes aren’t on you. You don’t really have the time to be frustrated with his lack of attention. “I’m sure she does.”

Woah. That has to be some sort of HR violation.

“Kieth.” Azriel barks, breaking you out of your stare. Thunderclouds have gathered in his eyes, and you can’t help the way your spine straightens. “She’s on work experience. That is not appropriate.” The man—Keith—isn’t deterred, instead flashing you a panty-dropping grin, “not even making him pay?”

You take a step back from Azriel, leaving an appropriate distance between your bodies as you turn to face Kieth. A feline smile slices your lips, eyes flicking to Azriel, making a show of looking him up and down, then back to Kieth. “With a pretty face like that? Never.”

You know Kieth gets the message—how you’ve stood yourself at his side, the opposing end of the desk that serves as a metaphorical wall. You’re aligning yourself with Azriel, and you can practically see Kieth marking the invisible leash you’ve silently suggested is connecting you to him.

If Kieth wants you, he’s going to have to go through Azriel.

———

Despite the seemingly clear alliance formed earlier that day, all traces of camaraderie had dissipated the moment Kieth removed himself from Azriel’s office. It seemed apparent that it was something about the opposing Director that got his panties in a twist, and you needed to investigate.

That being said, even after the team-up, nothing changed between the two of you. He was just as quiet as usual—almost sullen—not even sparing you a glance. You can’t figure out what’s not clicking for him. He has a woman all to himself for most hours of the working day, yet that’s all he seems to be doing: working.

What’s wrong with him?

The only time he’d paid you an ounce of attention was this morning, and since then—nothing.

You flop into bed, tired and frustrated. It’s proving more difficult than anticipated. It’s not like you haven’t had men who’ve taken a while to warm up to you before, but this is unreasonable. He seems completely uninterested. Utterly unbelievable.

The only logical conclusion you can come to is that it must be intentional. Any normal person would make eye contact with someone entering their space, or at least look up. And you’ve been in his office when other people have come in—Gabrielle popped in to ask after a particular file that Kieth had been after—and he’d functioned reasonably then.

It’s iron will that’s walling him off from you. And how are you supposed to break through a self-imposed barrier?

Easy.

You ware him down until the walls turn to dust, then you sweep in, and dominate. Crush down and obliterate.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[ffiahh]

PROJECT PLUTO

You Belong to Me.

When Vi realises she might actually be jealous.

Pairings: Bartender!Chem-Baroness!Dom!Vi x Fem!Feminine!Reader

Content Warning: Mild cursing, descriptions of eating, subtle mention(s) of sexual harassment, subtle description of possessive behaviour. SMUT WARNING: Strap on sex, cunnilingus, pussy spanking, dirty talk, praise, slight degradation, orgasm denial, rough sex, descriptions of hickeys and handprints, brief description of drool, brief mention of crying (good crying) back scratching.

Gendered Words and Pronouns: No third person pronouns used, but reader is referred as a woman, and has female anatomy.

Word Count: 5.0K

☾*:･ﾟ✧. Reader is plus sized, a bit too sweet, and optimistic. Kind of a bimbo really. Reader talks a shit ton as well, just talks and talks and talks; everyone apart from Vi is complaining. Vi is a Chem-Baroness here; though only her authority (not what she does outside of The Last Drop) is only the focal point in this story. I don't want to get into the technicalities of Chem-Barons. Reader is also really cute in here, and Vi is daddy. I will say no more.

VIOLET didn’t think she was a jealous girlfriend, possessive? No. She never thought she cared about anyone else looking at you, she never bothered to worry about what kind of friends you had, Vi didn’t think she burned with jealousy every time you smiled and laughed at somebody who was obviously flirting with you. Sure, she tightened her hold around your waist when some weirdos looked at you a little too long. That could be caution. There could be some very perverted creeps around the streets of Zaun. She scowled whenever loud bystanders complimented you on your thick thighs, large bust, or the way your dresses hugged your curves right. That could be disgust. Why are you talking about someone’s body like that? She would always glare after anyone who tried to get your attention; her fists itching to show to just about anyone who you belong to. 

She was looking out for you, protecting you. Vi trusted you, always; she knew a sweet thing like you wouldn’t even dare to give anyone other than Vi your attention. You were Violet’s. You knew that, Violet definitely knew that, most of Zaun did as well, yet there were still some people that thought they had enough of a presence to catch your attention and steal you away from Vi. Vi wouldn’t allow that, not until it came out from your own mouth that you wanted to leave her. Oh. Vi is a jealous, possessive girlfriend.

It wasn’t your fault that you were so sweet, maybe a little naive. You went out of your way to help people, smile at anyone you walked past. You always made sure to thank Jericho for the lovely food he took time to prepare, always apologised to anyone that bumped into you; whether it was your fault or not. You stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark streets of Zaun; whether it'd be your unnerving optimism, or the way your pretty dresses fluttered after you in the wind; somebody, somewhere craned their necks to catch a glimpse of you. 

It wasn’t Vi’s fault for falling for such a pretty thing like you either. She was just like everybody else, so keen on keeping her gaze on you; she nearly tripped a few times. Really. It was as if the first time she saw you, she had to have more. She was guilty of having lustful thoughts about you; she liked the way your skin shimmered under the streetlights, or the way the fat in your thighs jiggled every time you moved. Violet knew what she was getting into when she asked you out on a date, and she was ready to protect you, to tell the streets to back off, if necessary.  

And she did. She did her job well; she wasn’t called ‘Vander’s Prodigy’ for nothing. All she had to do was hold you tightly against her muscled body, curl her nose up at anyone who let their gaze wander, and before you know it; you were known as ‘Vi’s sweetheart’. There were more titles of course, but that was the most popular one, it almost felt like your own name. You still remember the night you first met her, Vi had seen you around before that of course, but you were too busy smiling at babies and looking at flowers to even realise someone like Vi had her eyes on you. 

You had walked into The Last Drop- Vi’s bar, a rather bright smile on your face as you fluttered to the counter, unbeknownst to the stares you attracted. You didn’t realise the way the whole bar stilled; even stopped breathing to see who just walked through the door, and why were you so damn bright? For some it looked as though they never saw somebody as happy, and soft as you. You were quite literally like a walking sun. You just leaned your soft hands on the wood, smiling up at Vi asking for a drink. 

“Could I have a margarita?” 

Vi could only smirk a little, leaning on her hands; her fingers digging into the edge of the bar as she looked down at you; the tips of her falling down to the tips of her nose. “Sure, baby. You wanna open a tab?” You remembered just staring at her red, ruly hair, thinking that it was so bright she could be considered a sun alongside you as well.  

You hummed, the corner of your mouth curled up thoughtfully. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll have that many!” You laughed, waving your hand dismissively making Vi’s mouth curl up in amusement. 

“Okay, after 3 drinks it’s an automatic tab, kay?” 

You just nodded, just a little distracted at the way the muscles in Vi’s arms moved along her black shirt. That's when you realised that Vi was quite the sight; you thought everyone was beautiful; but there was something about Vi that caught your attention and clung to it. She wasn’t like flowers, somehow her skin looked a lot softer than any petal you came across regardless of her course, scarred skin. She definitely wasn’t like babies; Vi was obviously too mature for that; with her sharp jaw, nice muscled arms and her equally broad, beautiful body. Maybe it was the way she held herself, as if she really didn’t give a fuck about what anyone thought of her, or as if she knew the kind of authority that ran through her entire body. Or maybe it was the way she effortlessly just called you ‘baby’, with that sexy smirk on her face; it made your whole body flush and the tattoos that ran along the back of her arms, or the sight of long, raised veins running along her arms and back of her hands, or the way she looked in her black button up shirt and suspenders. Or-

“Your margarita, doll.” You could feel your cheeks heat up, avoiding Vi’s gaze and her smirk. It was almost as if she knew. Vi couldn’t stop her mind from running either, she could finally see you up close; could finally see the intricate, miniscule patterns on your dress, could hear the way you laughed so much, she greedily drunk up the sweet, sweet smell of your perfume, all while wondering just how you managed to stay alive unscathed at all in this dog eat dog world.  

You had only smiled behind your glass, your lips parting to take a sip before you furrowed your eyebrows. “Aren’t you meant to be bartending? Won’t you get in trouble for flirting with customers? You know in some places that’s against the rules? I think it’s also illegal somewhere in Ionia. Of course, different workplaces have different rules and regulations, but you can never be too sure! I don’t know, won’t your boss-” 

“I own the damn place.” Oh. “Hell, I own this part of Zaun.” Oh. “Never heard of me, darling? The name’s Vi.” Vi had just placed her forearms on the counter, her eyes flitting over every inch of your body as she smirked. “What’s your name, pretty? What’s something as sweet as you doing in my Lanes?” 

Well, it was safe to say you kept coming, Vi was addicting; the way she moved around the bar, how she effortlessly caught anyone’s attention with her big grey eyes and her witty words. For you at first it was the excitement of having a new friend, a new friend who was as hot and alluring as Vi- okay, it wasn’t the excitement of a new friend; it was just excitement. Pure unadulterated excitement. You had a crush on her the minute she called you ‘baby’, you melted every time she called you a pet name, she found a new one every time you’d see her; you just hoped it wasn’t too obvious with the way you stared up at her, with that dopey smile and red cheeks. So, you came, and came and came, you came until the whole bar was accustomed to your presence, so much so that no-one ever took your seat at the counter anymore, it was your seat. Vi didn’t complain either. Just had your margarita in front of you before you even sat down. 

You never knew the full extent of Vi’s authority around her district, you always thought she was just showing off, maybe she was just cocky that she took over the bar; trying to impress you; wanted you to think highly of her. Well, that was until you saw it for yourself.  

You were sitting in your usual seat by the bar, swinging your feet as you waited for Vi. That night was meant to be your 2nd date, you had seen an interesting flyer for a pottery class and had asked Vi to be your second date, your reasoning? The pottery class would have brownies. Vi complied of course; she quickly realised she couldn’t say no to you. 

You were too focused on smoothing down your skirt to realise that somebody had sat too close behind you. Things like this happened all the time in bars; people bump into you all the time, and it had always quickly resolved in a quick apology, so you paid no mind, instead focused on whether your dress was appropriate for a second date. Was it too short? Was it too bright? It was blue, the darkest colour you have in your closet. Maybe you should have- 

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” 

You turn in your seat to look at a man, hunched over the counter. You had just looked him over once before shaking your head. “No, thanks. I’m waiting for someone.” You didn’t wait for his answer, as you turned your back to him again. 

“Oh yeah? Where is he?” 

You turned to face him again, smiling nervously, before your eyes flickered toward Vi; you remember your breath catching in your throat as you thought about how good she looked. Her muscled, tattooed arms were on display under her sleeveless turtleneck, her hair tied in a short low ponytail, with her hands slotted lazily in her pant pockets as she sauntered over to you. 

The lazy smirk disappeared, and confidence saunter quickened when Vi caught sight of the man talking to you; to anyone else and you it was just a man that was talking to you, but for Vi; he was flirting, trying to get into your pan- uh skirt. 

Vi had reached you quickly, flashing a quick look at you before her gaze hardened at the back of the man’s head. “Is there a problem?” Vi had said, her voice was as steady as ever, but to you and most of the patrons around you it sounded steely, firm. 

The man; in all his stupidity, kept his gaze on you, waving his hand lazily behind him, at Vi, “Just trying to woo-” before the corner of his eyes caught sight of Vi. From the man’s view, Vi had an imposing height, her grey eyes squinted in slits. He could only follow her frame, as she slowly walked toward you, reaching down to place her arm on the counter, right by your waist; almost as if she had a hold on you, without even touching you.  

Vi repeated her question, a little more loud, the noise vibrating through her chest and back of her throat. “Is there a problem?” The man stole another glance at you; his eyes flickering to Vi’s arm, before it diverted to Vi again, he soon dropped his gaze. “No, ma’am.” 

Vi’s glare had soon chased the man away, burrowing himself further into the sea of bar customers to try to avoid her gaze, and only once did the man leave her line of sight did Vi look softly down at you, the same confident smirk plastered on her face again. 

“Ready to go?” 

You could only just stare up at her, dumbfounded, as she gently grasped your wrist to pull you out of her bar. Ma’am? You had never heard Vi been called that before, maybe ‘boss’ by Chuck at the Last Drop, or ‘Miss’ by a few customers; but that was rare. After that moment you had kept a lookout for anything else that had shown just how much Vi is respected; people moved out for her when you both walked through the Lanes, they lowered their eyes whenever they spoke to her, kept their tone and voice polite, tipped their heads in respect. This is Vi’s Lanes, her district; she kept her part of the streets in check. 

Well, most parts of her streets anyway; there were always a few bad apples that thought they still had a chance with you. You were at Jericho’s food stall, your arms ladened with a small box of cookies that you had baked a few nights before. You had nearly dropped the box, too focused on waving wildly at Jericho, as you walked up to his stall. 

“Hi, Jericho! I bought cookies!” You could only laugh as Jericho garbled in delight, leaning over his counter, smiling widely down at you. “I made a bit too much, so I thought I’d give you some as a thank you!” 

Jericho blubbered out a response, his large hands eagerly taking the box; picking up a large cookie that looked a bit too small in his hands, before it dropped in his mouth, you watched on eagerly, waiting for him to swallow before he reached for another cookie, gibbering happily. 

You begrudgingly accepted a bowl of fish from him for free, as his own thank you, even though you tried to tell him it defeated the whole purpose of giving him the cookies, but you liked food, so you accepted. You were halfway through your bowl, humming to yourself happily as a tall, burly woman walked up to you, leaning on the counter; she didn’t bother to order anything from Jericho as she smiled down at you. 

“I like your dress.” 

You stopped chewing, looking up at the woman; you swallowed the last of your food in your mouth, licking your teeth and gums of any remnants of food left in your mouth before smiling up at the lady. “Thanks! I actually bought this from Piltover, it was just a smidge expensive, but it was worth it! The fabric is soft, so it doesn’t stretch too much- I think I’ve had this for a few years now, so it lasted a while as well. If you wanted to buy this dress as well, I don’t think you’ll find it anymore- sorry; they rotate their stock very regularly, and that was a few years ago!” You look down at your dress, dragging your palms over the skirt. “I actually added the mesh overlay on myself! I had to buy the mesh from Piltover as well, that was also expensive! It isn’t that hard to sew it on; just a few stitches here and there!” 

Vi knew she could hear your eager, loud voice from where she stood. It didn’t surprise her that she found you sitting at Jericho’s stall; the bowl of fish, half-finished as you were now talking animatedly about how different fabrics aren’t always the best to combine. You didn’t realise Vi had walked up behind you, until you felt the gentle touch of her rough hand on your lower back. 

Vi couldn’t help but sneak a cautious glance at the mysterious, unnerving woman, before she looked down at you, her glare soon replaced with a tender laugh, as she sought out your bright smile and large eyes. “Hey, what are you up to?” 

You only just smiled wider, accepting the large kiss from Vi, smacking your lips subconsciously before you straightened up in your seat, gesturing to Jericho. “We- I was giving some cookies to Jer! I made some and I had to give some to him, you know as a thank you.” 

Vi chuckled, her hand slipping to wrap firmly around your waist, her gaze still fixed on the woman from the corner of her eye. What the fuck does she want? Why is she here? Why was she talking to you? “Oh yeah? Where’s my thank you?” 

You just tut, the back of your hand reaching up to pat Vi’s belly. “Don’t worry, I have your batch at home.” 

Vi just hums, her fingers tightening around your waist. Her gaze was solely on the woman now, her mouth set in a thin line, the woman hadn’t done anything to warrant a full reaction out of Vi, but she had taken the courage to smile up at Vi, holding her gaze. Oh? 

You hadn’t realised the tension between your red-haired girlfriend and the new woman you made friends with, as you remembered that you hadn’t finished your bowl of fish. You didn’t bother talking as you bit into the last piece of fish before Vi started to speak again. 

“Are you busy at all after this, princess?” 

You wiped the corners of your mouth, smiling up at Vi. “I’m going to take a nap! I’m real tired.” 

Vi just hums again, her eyes flitting down the woman’s broad frame, before Vi’s heavy hand finds their way around your waist again, gently guiding you out of the chair, holding your pudgy, soft body tightly against hers. “Well then, let’s go take a nap.” 

Your body melts against Vi, your shoulders slumping as you walk alongside Vi, not forgetting to wave goodbye at Jericho, you were about to wave at the lady who asked about your dress, but Vi tightened her hold on you, making you look up at her. “What were you doing that you have to take a nap, hmm?”  

You sighed exasperatedly, one hand absentmindedly playing with Vi’s belt buckle. “I was baking cookies.” 

“Yeah? When was this?” 

“A few days ago. Whew! Baking cookies is no joke.” 

Vi just held you tighter against herself, laughing at your remark. She seemed a little better now that the lady was out of her sight, and away from you, but she still felt on edge, a little grumpy. You knew, you saw the way Vi’s breathing was more haggard, her body was more stiff, her grip on you was more forceful; you didn’t mention it though, just thought you could distract her mind about how you had nearly tripped over a cat a few days ago. 

Vi found that funny; called you her clumsy bunny, and once you both reached her home; she took you to her bedroom, eagerly pressing you against the door, and pressing a large, rough kiss on your mouth. 

You let out a surprised gasp, hands reaching up to hold onto Vi’s shoulders for support, as you felt your back press into the door, and Vi’s hands tighten around the inside of your knees, nearly bending you in half as she pressed her body flush against yours. 

Vi’s mouth travelled from yours down to your jaw, finding their home in your neck, you just squirmed, letting out a breathless pant. “I-I thought we were going to take a nap.” 

Vi just chuckled, the breath from her laugh tickling your nape. “Do you want to take a nap? Hm?” Vi asked, her hands trailing down your thighs to firmly wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to herself. As if you weren’t any closer.

You just stuttered out a response; one that Vi laughed at, holding you tighter as she carried you with ease to her bed. “Just want to make sure you know who you belong to. You want that?” 

You stayed wide-eyed at her, letting her gently throw you to the bed; you could feel your heartbeat quicken, as Vi leaned down closer to you, pressing her hips in between your thighs. You could feel the mattress dip on either side of your head; where she caged you in with her hands. 

“I asked you a question, pretty thing. I expect an answer.” 

You were so close to her, you could see every feature; the way her grey eyes dilated and greedily took in your squirming form, the way her scarred soft mouth opened slightly at the sight of you. From the corner of your eyes you could see the muscles straining in her arms, it sent a shiver down your spine. You could only blush, and avert your eyes, letting out a quiet ‘yeah’.

“Hm, I thought so.” Vi lets one hand trail down your shoulder, your chest before finally resting on your bare thigh, just under the hem of your skirt. “Pretty dress.” 

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling shy under Vi’s touch and stare. “I-I sewed the mesh on…” 

Vi hums in response, her hand slowly slipping under your skirt; her fingers dancing lightly across your skin, before her fingers tighten around the fat, her thumb just lightly brushing against your clothed cunt. “I know you did. You did so well, it looks so beautiful on you.” 

You let out a quiet whimper, feeling Vi’s hands under your skirt, blushing wildly at Vi’s coo of praise; Vi only smirked down at you, tilting her head, her smirk widening as you squirmed; feeling her thumb press a little onto your clit. “Were you thinking about me? I haven’t even touched you yet. You want me that bad, huh?” 

“Vi, please..” You whined. You felt so embarrassed that you resulted in a whining, moaning mess already but you needed her any way you could get. 

As always, Vi obliged; it wasn’t long before she had your legs hiked up on her broad shoulders, her rough fingers squeezing and keeping your thighs in place, lazily lapping up your juices, what got you more embarrassed was the sight of your panties- lace and lilac in colour- hanging off her thumb. Vi was loud as she ate you out, hummed into your cunt any time you let out a moan. Vi insisted that she get you ready, as wet as she can make you. Whenever you had the mind or strength to open your eyes; you would see the curve of Vi’s head under your dress, dipping high and low as she let her tongue drag across your wet folds, her nose pressing into your sensitive nub. 

You lowered your head back onto the bed, your legs squirming as Vi hummed again, the vibrations pulsating through you, drawing out a broken moan. Vi’s strong arms soon wrapped around the base of your legs; near your hips, as she pulled you down closer to the edge of the bed, earning a gasp from you as your hands flew to claw at Vi’s strong forearms; you were definitely caged in now; you could barely move your body as Vi dug her face deeper into you, her tongue now only assaulting your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your pleasure before she stops. 

You open your eyes, blinking up at her, whining quietly. Vi tuts, standing up to her full height. She looked good standing over you, the way her black shirt hugged her biceps and breasts, her cocky smirk glistening with your cum. Her hand falls heavily against your cunt, slapping it harshly. You jump at the sharp contact; whimpering in response. 

“Stop whining. You’ll get what you want if you’re patient enough.” You took in a shuddering breath, looking up at the way Vi hastily threw your underwear to the floor; her hand reaching up to loosen the knot in her tie, letting it fall from her neck. God, she looked good doing that.

You watch on eagerly as Vi pops the first few buttons of her shirt, a small expanse of her skin peeking through, you try to let your eyes wander further down her shirt, but your gaze snaps to Vi’s face as she chuckles, leaning forward as she fastens her tie around your thigh; it was a part of her uniform after all, it would be a shame to lose it. “Patience.” 

Your whining actually got somewhere; with Vi nestled in between your thighs, her mouth wrapped firmly around your nipple, as she stretched your pussy to its limit. You let out a strangled moan every time Vi’s strap buried in your further, her hips angling a little to hit just at the right spot. Vi’s hand was tight around your thigh, her fingers digging into the flesh as she kept it at a position she wanted. 

“Pl-please.” You just whimpered, your pussy clenching around her as she sped up slightly, letting your nipple with a small ‘pop’ as she lazily smirks up at you. You could feel the small metal piercing Vi’s nipples dig into your stomach; the metal felt warm and smooth. 

“Please what, baby? What do you need?” Vi leans up, letting her hands rest on the mattress beside your hips, even though she was talking to you; her whole attention was on your cunt; the way it swallowed her strap with such ease; she can feel the wetness of her own cum under the harness; which only spurred her on to carry on.��

Your hand fists your dress; keeping the dress just under your breasts; Vi always liked to fuck you with your pretty dresses; your other hand trailing touching Vi’s hip slightly, letting your fingers wander to the tuft of pink hair behind her harness, following the trail up to her belly button. “You’re so pretty…” 

Vi’s movements falter in surprise for a moment; before she lets out a smile through her pants, slowly sliding the strap out of you and driving it back in harshly, earning a shocked moan from you. “You’re the pretty one; with your pretty sounds, and your pretty body. God, you’re so soft. My pretty girl, so pretty for me. You’re such a gorgeous girl, aren’t you, baby?” 

“Mhm..” You bit your bottom lip; something that drove Vi over the edge; you could see it in the way her nose flared; one hand pushing down in between your breasts, pinning you to the mattress, and her hips speeding up; slamming the strap into you over and over again. “Ah- God..” Your fingers clawed at Vi’s wrist closest to you, as you could only take the ruthless pace Vi had picked up. 

“God’s not here to help you, baby. You’re gonna take what I give you, hm?” Vi didn’t wait for a response, slapping her hips against the back of your thighs, the sound of your cum squelching around her strap. “All mine, aren’t you? You’re gonna show everyone who you belong to, hm?” 

You just gasped and whined, panting as you nodded. “Mhm. A-all yours.” 

“Damn right.” Your thighs jerked every time Vi thrusted into you; Vi enjoyed seeing you like that; liked the way your body tensed up waiting for your much awaited orgasm, only for you to whine, begging her to speed up again, but once she did, your orgasm had wandered off, and Vi would fuck you to that point again, and again and again. Your body was flushed, your eyes dazed; chest rising and falling rapidly to even try and catch up to Vi; your pussy tightening around her strap. You ended up biting into the fabric of your dress, squeezing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back on the pillow; but that wasn’t enough for Vi. 

“Eyes on me, darling. Eyes on me or you won’t be coming tonight; that’d be a shame, wouldn’t it?” 

You did as she told, your eyebrows scrunching as tears fell down your cheeks. Your pussy felt sore at this point; your body would have been moving every time Vi drove into you if it weren't for her firm hold on your waist. Her hold was bruising, literally; you could see the red, angry outline of her hands wrapped around your midsection, Vi was serious about reminding you who you belonged to. 

“Aw, baby. ‘S not your fault, you’re just so pretty, taking me so well. Pretty, pretty thing; no wonder everyone wants to get their hands on you. Everyone was looking at you, and it annoyed me a little, you don’t mind do you? Letting me fuck out my frustrations on you? Hm? I know you can take it, you’ve always been a good girl for me.” 

You just gasped, widening your legs a little, your eyes weren’t completely focused, but you could just about make out her long, red fridge fall in her eyes, your jaw felt slack as you could barely feel the trail of drool slip past the corner of your mouth. 

“God, I’ve fucked you dumb. Nothing else is on your mind right now is it? Just me and how I fill you up. That’s it. Good girl.” Vi leaned forward again, the bruising grip on your hips now onto your thighs, as she hiked your legs over her shoulders. The position drives Vi in deeper, and you can only let out a silent moan as you claw at any part of her back you can reach; your nails digging into the skin; there’ll definitely be marks tomorrow, not that either of you cared; you were just repaying the favour. 

“C-can I cum? Please, please.” 

“Well, when you beg like that..” Vi doesn’t let up, she’s panting as well, she can feel the strain in her legs and hips; her chest heaving, but she’s not going to stop. 

Your orgasm hits you hard, wracking your whole body; you only clung onto Vi; your hands tight around her shoulder, as she finally slows to a halt, pulling out of you gently; enjoying the sight of your cum slowly oozing out of your pulsating hole. She sits back, deep pants escaping her mouth; her skin slick with sweat, as her fingers slowly trailed across the map of hickeys she left on your body, over the red silhouette of her hands embedded into your skin on your waist and hips with a satisfied smirk. 

“That’ll ought to show them, hm? Who you belong to.”

[weaselle]

dogs

i just want to brag a little actually.

i quit a 20 year career in restaurants to work with dogs as a dog walker, and i’m pretty damn good at it.

First of all, any dog walker who is doing their job right is also a dog trainer. You’re training the dogs that when they walk with you, they cannot pull on the leash, they aren’t allowed to go off noisily on bike riders or other dogs, they have to stay in the van with the side door open until they are invited out one by one to keep them from jumping out where there might be cars until i have a leash on them... i spend basically all day training dogs, or at least re-enforcing the training i’ve already done (but like, a dog that barks and charges other dogs passing by can be like, a six month project, so).

Anyway, i find there are some important little things about the job. For instance, greetings! Greetings are important

So i walk up to ten dogs at once, three walks a day, but at every dog pick up, I do a special greeting with each dog. All the dogs and I work out our own greetings. One I sniff noses with while i give him scritches. Another sits and puts one paw out for me to hold while she sniffs my ear and chin. There’s a little jack russell terrier who screams at me while she tries to climb up onto my shoulders and lick my ears.

Dogs can lick my face within reason, but i set my boundaries firmly at no licking my mouth. And many dogs appreciate being allowed to do more doggish greetings like sniff noses. One dog i walk is half Chow, half German Shepherd, which is ... a mix to keep an eye on. I do not sniff noses with him, because he gets irritated easy, and if he doesn’t like something, he’ll snap at it, and the same snap that would painfully but harmlessly startle another dog might need a lot of stitches if it was my face. He’s a sweetheart tho, he and i really like and respect each other, but you gotta know the dog you’re working with and part of that respect is me not putting my face all up in his face.

Instead, his greeting with me is he stands stoically while i squat next to him and pet his ears and shoulders, then i massage some of the tension out of the thick muscles on either side of his spine, which he sits down for. It almost seems like he’s ignoring me and I used to wonder if he was just humoring me, but then i tried skipping our greeting a couple times and he just wouldn’t move until we did it, which low-key broke my heart in a happy sort of way

The point is, these greetings are important, it sets the tone for the rest of the walk and maintains a strong positive relationship, which is especially important for those days you wind up correcting that dog’s behavior a lot.

Speaking of which, in a pack of 6-10 dogs in public, it is easy to be doing a lot of “stop doing things wrong” interactions, so I make sure to look for positive interactions too. I will sometimes ask a dog i’ve been correcting more than usual to sit, just so that i can tell them they are a good dog for sitting and offer them a little success. Sometimes with new dogs i’ll be correcting them so much i’ll even give them big verbal rewards for peeing or pooping, because after all it is outside where they are supposed to do that, and if i’ve been telling them “no, wrong” for the last 20 minutes we are both getting desperate for a chance at “yes, good”. And when you’re dealing with all that it’s easy to ignore dogs that are doing everything right, so i make sure to tell each dog they’re doing good at least once every walk

I even have one dog, an australian shepherd, who only walks where she’s supposed to without pulling ahead if i notice her doing it right and tell her she’s a good dog a couple times early in the walk; if i don’t remember to, she refuses to walk correctly and spends the rest of the walk pulling

so part of why the greeting is important is because it balances out how much behavior correction i may wind up doing. Every walk, no matter how much they misbehave, or how much my focus is needed elsewhere, we start each day together with “it’s so good to see you, i’m happy i get to spend time with you” and them as the center of my attention, and i think that makes a big difference in the relationship with the dogs

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Honey Bun (18+ Series)

(Aaron Hotchner x Stripper!Reader)

Part 2 // MINORS DNI

WC: 2.2k words

Song Inspo: Time - Sevdaliza

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, bit of an age gap (placing reader at around 25-26), cursing, alcohol consumption, formalized sex work (Stripper/Pole Dancer), occasional angst, drama, and that's all I can think of rn but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: Can you hear that? That's me screaming in the distance as I wrote this. PLS ENJOY AAAAA!!!

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

Aaron had been stuck in your head all day. You couldn’t help it, really. Even when you tried to concentrate on other things, your mind would betray you and stray back to him. It was puzzling, but also pretty frustrating.

You thought about him as you got ready backstage — frosty blue eyeshadow that matched your outfit, lips irresistibly glossy, smelling of frangipani and vetiver. Eyes roaming over your reflection, you thought of just how good your name sounded on his lips. How titillating it was that he’d called you Honey, entirely too close to being in on your secret.

For once, flirting had not felt fake or uncomfortable! And not to mention how respectful he was…

You thought of his piercing gaze and the way the low light glinted in his dark eyes. You tried to imagine him in the crowd, standing out among all those anonymous faces watching you on stage now.

An expanse of bare skin aglow in the neon lights; Strong limbs and taught muscles. Bending and swaying and making pretty shapes as you spun on the pole.

How might he look at you then? 

You tried  — really tried — not to think about that too much as you absently gathered your newly earned riches. Automatically, you went straight backstage to stash it away with all your things.

“You seem distracted, Honey Bunny,” Gia — your closest friend at the Crimson Lounge — commented, adjusting her mesh top in front of the mirror.

You snapped back to attention. “Do I?”

“Yeah, you’ve been a little spacey. Everything okay?” She asked. “All good with Sadie?”

You nodded quickly, forcing yourself not to sigh. Great, you had a silly little crush and suddenly it was like you forgot how to act. You needed to stay sharp, there was no time to be pussyfooting around.

“Yeah, Sadie’s fine. She’s got midterms right now, so she’s been stressed,” you said. “I guess I’m just not in the zone today.”

Sadie was your younger sister, who was living with you while she went to community college. She was one of the main reasons you worked two jobs.

After your mother passed away and your father remarried and left, you took it upon yourself to look after her. You basically had to drop out of college in your first year and start working in order to keep a roof over your heads and food on the table. 

She wanted to dance, too, which you had no problem with, but you told her to finish her education first. You wanted at least one of you to have a degree.

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything, right?” Gia said, looking at you through the mirror’s reflection.

You smiled appreciatively, grabbing your lip gloss to reapply. “Yes, I know. But all’s good, really.”

In all the time you’d known Gia, your love life had been practically nonexistent. Sure, you’d unfortunately dated one or two assholes, but you never let it get too far. It was better to be alone than in bad company.

She knew some of your worst stories and would never judge you, but you didn’t really want to tell her about Aaron. You didn’t want to jinx it, in a strange way, but there was also not a lot to tell. 

Plus, it was kind of nice to have the secret to yourself for now.

“If you say so,” she conceded as you stepped up to the mirror next to her. “Here, I’m up soon, give me a lil bunny kiss for good luck.”

You turned to face her with a small chuckle, and the two of you gingerly rubbed noses together.

—————————

“Well, well… look who’s back,” you said with a smirk as Aaron sat on a stool by the bar.

He smiled lopsidedly. “It’s nice to see you again, Honey.”

Almost a full week had passed since you last saw him. Most of those days, you would sneak hopeful glances at the door. Whenever she caught you, Josephine would snicker to herself, shaking her head in amusement. 

You were actually kind of surprised he’d actually shown up again, especially so close to the end of the night, but you weren’t going to complain.

You poured him his drink and slid it over. “So, you couldn’t resist the lure of the Duchess for too long, huh?”

He chuckled, taking a sip of scotch. “Well, this is actually kind of embarrassing but… I came in on Saturday, but you weren’t here. Didn’t stay long then.”

Your traitorous heart began pounding in your chest. You snuck a glance at Josephine, who was busy closing someone’s tab. Had she seen him?

“Oh, yeah, I’m not here on weekends. I have another job,” you shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

“Where?” He asked seemingly before he could think about it.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? So you can come stalk me there, too?” 

His cheeks actually grew red and his eyes widened a little. “Um… ha, well, I-”

“I’m just kidding, silly!” You chuckled. “I’m sorry, you should see the look on your face.”

He shook his head, visibly relaxing. “Just felt like yanking my chain, didn’t you?”

“It is kind of fun,” you smirked.

“So you are a busy girl, you weren’t kidding,” he commented, with admiration in his tone. “And of course, you don’t have to tell me about all that you do.”

“A girl has a right to secrets, doesn’t she?”

“I do like a little bit of mystery…” 

“What about you?” You asked. “You haven’t told me what you do.”

“Well I’m an open book, so I’ll tell you.” He brought something out from his pocket, opening it to reveal an FBI badge. “I’m a profiler with the FBI. Formerly a lawyer.”

How fitting, you thought to yourself. Still, you couldn’t help but deflate a little at this revelation. Not that you were expecting anything with him, but this made the chances much slimmer.

“No wonder you’re a workaholic,” you said. “Needing to catch so many bad guys out there and all.”

“I try to,” he looked down at this glass, nodding absently. 

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, so you decided not to press the issue. When he looked back up, he’d decided to change the subject.

“This is going to sound weird, but do you know of a good place to get pancakes in the middle of the night?”

—————————

And so you found yourself sitting in a booth across from Aaron, the much brighter lights of the 24 hour diner letting you get a better look at him.

It was two AM and he looked exhausted but content, not to mention oh-so-ruggedly handsome. You hoped you didn’t look worse for wear under the fluorescent glow.

He’d gotten a short stack of buttermilk pancakes with a side of bacon, which he was now digging into with fervor. You’d opted for some fries and a vanilla milkshake to dip them into.

“Someone was hungry,” you commented, utterly amused.

“Famished,” he confirmed, wiping some maple syrup from the corner of his lips with a napkin. “Sorry if I’m losing my manners a little bit here.”

“All good, I’m kind of enjoying it actually,” you giggled, dipping a fry into your shake. “This is one of my favorite treats.”

“Can I try?” 

“Sure, come closer,” you said, and he leaned forward so you could feed it to him.

“Hmm, not bad. It’s interesting.”

“My little sister and I used to have it all the time when we were kids. My mom got us into it,” you said, smiling a little at the memories. “She was such a sweet tooth.”

“Always nice to honor tradition,” he smiled, understanding there was something tender about this moment. “Right in this diner, too?”

“Oh no, it was back in our hometown. That diner was close to the highway, so a bunch of trucks would always be parked outside. Bit of a seedy place, sure, but I kind of loved it. The food was great, but definitely greasy. I remember there was an old jukebox that always played things like Buddy Holly or The Mills Brothers.” 

You looked out the window for a moment, mind wandering back to the past. To a time when things weren’t so complicated and you always felt safe and happy and taken care of. It all seemed so foreign now. Not that you weren’t happy these days, but… it was just different.

“So you like old, old music,” he said, bringing you back to the present. “I do like me some Mills Brothers, too.”

“Yeah, I’ll listen to anything. I love music, but there’s something about those old songs… They’ll get you.”

“Bit of a romantic, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t help but grin, feeling uncharacteristically coy. “How do you figure?”

“Hmm, let’s just say I have a knack for these things,” he smirked, pushing his empty plate to one side and leaning his arms on the table. “Have I told you yet that you are beautiful?”

“You have, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

Your phone buzzed with a new text message from Sadie, and you saw it was nearing three AM now. 

“Should we get the check?” You asked, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“I’ll get it,” he said, waving you off as he flagged down the waitress. “And I’ll drive you home, too. No arguing about it.”

You raised both eyebrows. “Is that an order?” 

“Yes.”

After settling the bill, you climbed into the passenger side of Aaron’s SUV. He handed you an aux cord so you could plug your phone in, and you decided to play some Chet Baker on shuffle.

And of course, ‘I Fall In Love Too Easily’ just had to be the first song to come up. Neither of you made any comment on it, instead remaining mostly quiet on the ride to your place. You guided him through the darkened streets, sneaking glances at his profile. 

When he pulled up to your condo, you unbuckled your seatbelt but did not get out just yet. You looked at each other, both unsure of how this night would end. 

“I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you,” he said finally. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your number last time, I just didn’t want to presume…”

Wordlessly, you extended your hand towards him. He handed you his cellphone, and you saved your information on it. You even took a selfie blowing a kiss at the camera to keep it as your contact picture, and you saw he was smiling lopsidedly as you handed his phone back.

“Problem solved,” you said with a wink. “I’ve had a really nice time, too.”

“We’ve got to figure out a better time for our next date. Can’t just take you out gallivanting at the hour between the dog and the wolf… It speaks poorly of me.”

You smirked mischievously. “Oh, so this was a date?”

He hesitated for just a brief moment, once again worried he was stepping too far. In that moment, it only made you want him more. After all, you shouldn’t even be jumping into conclusions about where this could all lead or what it meant. There was only the present.

You leaned on the dashboard between you, propping your chin on your hand and fluttering your lashes. 

He swallowed hard. “I suppose I could’ve been clearer but… yes. To me it was.”

“Well, if this was a date, does that mean I can bid you a proper goodnight?” Your voice was low and sultry, eyes drawn to his lips as you leaned in even closer.

In the next second, his hand was cupping the back of your neck, pulling you in to meet his kiss. You adjusted so you were kneeling on the seat, hands on his face. Softly, he sighed your name into your mouth as you parted his lips with your tongue. 

It was a slow and sweet kiss, very much exploratory. He let you set the pace, tongue tangling with yours. You let your teeth graze his bottom lip, which elicited a deliciously deep groan from him. Desire roared to life within you, and you wished you could press firmly against him.

When he tried to adjust his body, he accidentally elbowed the horn, and the two of you abruptly broke apart as it blared a single note. You momentarily shared a startled look, but then you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Forgot myself for a moment there,” he panted, also chuckling at his own clumsiness. “But I guess that’s my cue.”

You tilted your head to one side, just a little perplexed. His dark eyes were glazed over with lust, but he didn’t even ask if you’d invite him inside. For your part, you were craving more — so much more — but you weren’t going to push if he wanted to be such a gentleman. 

You leaned in for another quick, chaste kiss — One that had a promise for more behind it. When you pulled away, you let your eyes rove over his face, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Sweet dreams, Aaron,” you said as you opened the car door. “And by that, I mean I hope you dream of me.”

“I really hope so too, Honey.”

[fairiesofgensokyo]

"So, we fairy maids have been having a debate over the last few days, and we've ranked the Mansion's residents by who gives the best or worst hugs."

"It may seem like nothing much, but for fairies hugs are a big deal."

"This is objective truth, we won't be taking constructive criticism."

Mansion Residents Hugs Ranked.

1: Patchouli Knowledge. "It's rare for her to ever hug, but you can bet that it's the best. She's so fluffy and cozy, and she always smells of fragrant herbs and tea. You can hug her too, and usually she'll be fine with it. But if you annoy her she won't let you near her for a week." - Unnamed Pink Library Maid

2: Hong Meiling. "She's not as soft as Lady Patchouli, but she understands gentle! She's able to relax her muscles just right, so even though she's so well-built you'll never feel like you're in an iron embrace. Also, since she's so friendly, she's the most willing to give a hug when asked. But be careful, if you ask too much, she'll find some work for you to do." - Rosemary Pines, Garden Maid

3: Koakuma. "She's very friendly, and usually willing to hug. She can be a bit... much, though, and she can easily get carried away. Make sure if you're getting a hug from her, you're flying first, or you may risk suffocating in her bosom. If you get a hug from her, expect to be carried around for the rest of the day." - Unnamed Purple Library Maid

4: Sakuya Izayoi "It's very rare, but Sakuya does give good hugs. She'll usually only do it to calm an upset fairy having a bad day, or if asked as a reward for doing a good job. Just don't let her catch you slacking off too much, or she'll punish you real bad." - Cherry Thimble, Living Quarters Maid

5: Flandre Scarlet "The lady give the best hugs! And by that I mean no one can compare in raw hugging power! You will feel secure in her embrace, and you'll never have fear of the world beyond her! That said, sometimes she'll hug just a little too hard, and you might pop. It's fine though, it's worth getting the risk for such a reassuring hug!" - Eliza Nevermore, Basement Maid

6: Remilia Scarlet "Easily the worst at hugging in the Mansion. Lady Remilia's embrace has all the comforting capacity of an Iron Maiden. Even if it doesn't kill you, it will feel awkward, and you'll feel super uncomfortable. You'll probably have bruises from it too. But if you show your discomfort too openly, it'll annoy her and she'll just kill you. If Lady Remilia offers to hug you, it's probably just better to provoke her into killing you quickly. Try punching her in the nose, her face when you do is pretty funny." - Salty Bones, Main Hall Maid

[iambutmortal]

Chapter 5

Summary: When Elain signs the divorce papers she’s sure she’s done with Lucien Vanserra. Until they’re offered the chance to recreate their honeymoon as a part of her job. For free. But reliving all those memories with Lucien proves leaving may be more difficult than she thought.

Word Count: 4.1k

Authors Note: The return of this fic and the return of the Asylum of the Dalek quotes

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Elain woke up with her legs tangled up in Lucien’s. He was snoring softly next to her, one arm slung loosely over her waist. She checked the time - almost nine - much later than Lucien usually slept.

She tried to detangle them, sliding one leg out from between his, only for Lucien to tighten his grip on her and pull her against his front. She could feel the stirrings of a morning erection against her, and had to fight the urge to rub against it. After last night she still wasn’t sure where they stood, or what Lucien would think was too far.

“What time is it,” Lucien asked, voice rough with sleep.

“We have an hour until we have to be up,” Elain said. “Go back to bed.”

Lucien yawned. “Stay with me.” He nuzzled his nose into the back of her neck.

Elain looked over her shoulder to see Lucien was already nodding back off. He was more relaxed than she’d seen him in a while, his face clam. She reached back to brush the strands of red hair that had escaped his braid off his face. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this, waking up with Lucien, being with him in private.

 And she knew it would hurt all the more when she had to give it up again. But for the next hour she got to enjoy it, this part of Lucien no one else got to see.

The alarm she forgot she set was what finally woke him. “Ready to see the monkeys?” he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes and clambering out of the bed to go to the bathroom.

Elain watched his retreating back, the muscles that shifted with each step, and the low slung sweats concealing his well sculpted backside.

“Couldn’t be more excited.”

Because today was when they went into the jungle, back to a monkey sanctuary they’d visited on a whim one day mid honeymoon. Cassian was practically giddy at the idea, had even laughed when Nesta suggested he might be more at home among them than in LA.

Per the instruction card slid under their door by the hotel, Elain dressed in tight clothes—light washed jeans and a white t-shirt—and left off any jewelry, lest a monkey get any ideas. She pulled her hair back into a simple French braid.

Lucien followed suit, hair once again in a low bun. He’d laughingly suggested they match and, at Elain’s why not, had also pulled on a pair of jeans and white shirt. 

“How coordinated do you look?” Nesta teased, meeting them in the lobby, Cassian at her side. Elain chose not to comment on how close her sister and Cassian were standing. Or on how tired Nesta looked.

“We wanted to impress the monkeys,” Lucien deadpanned in response.

“They’ll appreciate it,” said the black man quickly approaching them. “Tarquin,” he supplied, offering his hand for Lucien to shake, “your guide for today.”

 “Great to finally meet you,” Lucien said.

Tarquin grinned. “I’m sure you’ve heard some truly terrible stories from Eris.”

“Only the ones he was willing to say in front of our mother.”

Tarquin laughed and led them out to the van they’d be taking, giving them a brief rundown of the excursion. “It’s about an hour drive to the sanctuary. We’re a private tour, so we’ve got to wait for the big groups to leave but then you’ll have the run of the place until three when we’ll take you back.”

“Roger,” Cassian said, sliding into the seat next to Nesta, who didn’t immediately slide as far out of his way as possible. Elain and Lucien took the back row, leaving shotgun to Tarquin.

The drive started well enough, turning down paved roads while Tarquin gave a running commentary. He’d been living in the country for the past two years, having come from Georgia after completing a degree in biology. “Working with monkeys is a lot better than staring at cells under a microscope,” he offered by way of explanation.

Elain sat up straight. “Bio major?”

“Yup,” Tarquin said, turning around in his seat. “At the University of Georgia. You?”

Elain flushed. College had always been something too out of her reach to dream about. By the time she was sixteen and thinking about it, all the money they had left was poured into Nesta’s education, and everyone had told her not to bother, to use her pretty face instead. So she’d never gone, and then her career had picked up and she’d had the money but not the guts to upend her life.

“No degree, but I’ve always had an interest in plants.” Saying it out loud sounded so lame but Tarquin smiled.

“Well that,” he said, pointing at a small tree covered in white flowers, “is a Catalpa Brevipes. They like to grow in the limestone soil. And this beauty,” he gestured at another tree, “is a West Indian Locust. The pods are edible, and not bad if you can get past the smell.”

“And that one?” Cassian asked, staring at a palm along the side of the road.

“That’s a coconut tree,” Tarquin said.

“The pods are also edible, then?” Cassian jokingly.

“If you can break one open.”

“Cassian can use his head,” Nesta said. “Since it’s dense as a rock.” But there was no sting in the insult, and even less when Cassian slung an arm around Nesta’s shoulders and tucked her into his side.

The van pulled off the paved road at that point, turning onto a dirt road. Elain rocked at the unevenness, her still-delicate stomach barking a protest. Lucien rested a hand on her back, rubbing small circles.

Mercifully, the off roading was short, the van coming to a stop up the road in front of a collection of small houses.

“Mi casa,” Tarquin said, getting out of the vehicle. “And the monkey’s casa.”

The four of them filed out, and let Tarquin lead them past the structures into a fenced in clearing out back. He pulled out a container, opening it to reveal the diced mango inside, and offered it to them.

“It’s their favorite, if we stand here long enough they should come right to us.”

Cassian grabbed a fistful of the mango in excitement, holding his hand outstretched. Elain waited with bated breath until, sure enough, a monkey appeared like magic on the fence.

“He’s so tiny,” she gasped, taking in his gray and yellow coat, big black eyes, and curled tail. He climbed over the fence easily, until he was level with Cassian. One of his tiny hands darted out, taking a piece of mango and shoveling it into his mouth before leaping away back into the trees.

“That was so cool,” Cassian said, turning to return the mango to Tarquin. He held up a hand and pointed to the jungle. Elian turned to see at least a dozen monkeys emerging, creeping towards them curiously.

“There’s so many,” Nesta gasped, taking a slice of fruit from Cassian and holding it out. A few approached her curiously, until one of the smaller ones leapt onto her arm. Nesta squealed at the proximity, cooing down at the animal.

“We don’t usually let guests come in direct contact,” Tarquin said, placing the container into an open aired box, the hole at the top big enough for a monkey to reach into but not so big they could take the whole container. “But I called in  a small favor for you guys.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Elain said, watching as the small animals swarmed the box. 

Tarquin shrugged. “Anything for an old friend’s baby brother.”

Nesta and Cassian were huddled together, enthralled as monkeys plucked bits of mango out of their hands. Elain spun around to glare at Lucien accusingly.

“I told you Eris went to Georgia. And when I mentioned I was coming here he told me to get in contact with Tarquin for a surprise.” Lucien nudged her shoulder. “Having fun?”

“This is so much better than last time,” Elain admitted. “And I think you just became Nesta’s favorite.”

Lucien smiled softly at her. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Oh fuck,” Nesta cried, interupting the moment. “My bracelet’s gone.”

“Was it important?” Tarquin asked, looking up from where he was inspecting one of the monkeys.

“It was my aunt's,” Nesta said, already searching the ground, Cassian joining her.

“The monkey’s probably took it,” Tarquin said. “They like shiny things.”

“Fuck,” Nesta said again. “So it’s gone then?” She looked close to tears.

“There’s a couple places they might have taken it, we can check there,” Tarquin offered.

“Elain and I can look here, in case it fell of somewhere,” Lucien added.

Tarquin nodded. “Great, then the rest of us will go looking at the money spots.”

They split, Elain searching the path between the van and the houses while Lucien combed over the fenced in area, the others disappearing somewhere off in the jungle.

“I don’t think it’s here,” Elain admitted, after twenty minutes of searching.

“Me neither,” Lucien said with a sigh, leaning against the fence. “Guess diamonds are a girl, and a monkey’s best friend,” he said dryly and Elain laughed. 

Lucien sobered. “Was Nesta close to your aunt?”

“Aunt Ripleigh? God no, that old woman just had no one else to leave her stuff to, and she’d rather give it to us than donate a penny to charity.”

“Did you get anything?”

Elain scoffed. “No, apparently my thank you note for my eighth birthday wasn’t up to her demanding standards. All the money went to Nesta to finish paying for her degree.”

“Pity,” Lucien said. “That was a nice bracelet.”

“No nicer than anything you got for me,” Elain said. Because Lucien had a bad habit of buying her something shiny every time he was away on a work trip for more than a week. Which, with his job, resulted in a jewelry box overflowing with pearls and gold.

Lucien reached down to encircle her wrist with his hand. “See anything we should get here? Since I’ve got to make up for lost time.”

Elain’s brows shot up. “Awfully presumptive for you to assume I’d want anything from you.”

Lucien tugged her closer to him, sliding his free arm around her waist. “I’m nothing if not an optimist.”

Elain looked up at him, rising on tip toes until their lips were almost brushing. “I think I like that in a man.”

“Oh good,” Lucien said. “Because that’s been my strategy this whole time.”

And then his lips were on hers in a brutal crush. Elain surged to meet him, tugging on his bottom lip, running her hand through his hair. Months of pent up emotion coming out at once, and it was overwhelming.

Lucien turned them, slamming Elain’s back against the fence, and pulling one leg up to wrap around his waist.

Elain ground against him, feeling evidence of his arousal against her sensitive parts, and moaning into his mouth. Lucien chuckled cruelly, dropping her wrist to rub his thumb against her breast. Even though the fabric of her shirt, Elain could feel the pressure and arched into his touch.

“I’ve missed this,” Lucien admitted, in-between kisses.

Elain smiled against his mouth. “Me too.”

The next time Lucien’s lips met hers it was slower, sweeter. One of Elain’s hands worked its way under his shirt, feeling hard muscle and warm skin and Lucien practically whined.

Elain was dangerously close to taking his shirt off, right in the middle of the jungle, when they heard Nesta’s triumphant, “found it.”

“Those bastards had it on a tree branch,” Cassian said, trampling into the clearing.

Lucien quickly stepped back, away from Elain, while she tried to smooth down her hair. Rather unsuccessfully from the knowing smirk Nesta gave her.

“And then Cassian climbed up and got it,” Nesta said admiringly.

“The hero of the hour,” Lucien exclaimed, giving Cassian a firm pat on the back.

“I think celebration’s in order,” said Tarquin. “Back in the resort,” he added quickly at seeing the dismay on Nesta’s face. They all quickly hurried back to the van, filing into the same seats they’d taken there.

Every bump and jostle had Elain bouncing into Lucien, her body ultra aware of how close he was to her. Made worse by the hand he rested on her thigh, which seemed to creep higher and higher as the ride progressed.

Elain would have felt self conscious, had Nesta and Cassian not been sitting dangerously close as well. Really, she felt bad for Tarquin, who was doing his best to ignore the heavy arousal filling the air of the car, instead telling them about the work the sanctuary did to rehabilitate any monkeys who needed treatment.

Their hotel celebration ended up being rather short, a single drink in one of the many bars spread around the resort, until Tarquin got the hint and made his farewells with promises to talk to Eris more often than he had been.

And then Elain was all but sprinting back to the hotel room, Lucien in tow.

They barely made it in the door before Lucien was slamming it shut and shoving her back against it.

Elain giggled as he caged her in with his arms. “Someone’s eager.”

“You have absolutely no idea,” Lucien swore, pressing a teasing peck on her lips. “Now take off your shirt.”

Arousal licked at Elain’s stomach at the demand in those words, and she quickly stripped.

“Leave the bra,” Lucien ordered.

“Why?” Elain asked, suddenly self conscious.

Lucien reached out a finger to trace the edge of the bra, “because if you take it off I’m going to cream my pants.”

Elain clamped down on her moan as she reached down to grip Lucien’s own shirt, pulling it off. She ran her nails down his chest, raking light lines down over his abs and to the hem of his pants. Lucien shuddered at her touch, leaning further against the doorway.

“I should fuck you against this door,” he growled. “Make sure everyone knows what we’re up to.”

“Who’s stopping you,” Elain asked, arching up to nip at his lower lip.

“Good point.” And then Lucien reached a hand under her ass, hoisting her up against him. Elain’s own hands sought out the button on his pants, scrambling to undo the button.

She hauled them down, along with his underwear, and Lucien kicked them off somewhere into the room. He was already leaking precum, his cock hard and erect, pointing towards his stomach.

“If I take off my undies are you going to come?” Elain teased.

“A risk I’m willing to take.” Lucien pressed his lips to her throat, kissing down her chest, her stomach, until his face was level with the apex of her thighs. His long fingers slid the zipper down, one notch at a time, Elain squirming in anticipation.

“Easy,” he said, using his free hand to press her hips against the door.

“Please,” Elain begged.

Lucien clicked his tongue. “After the last couple months, I think it’s only fair I get to make you wait,” he said, but obligingly finished with the zipper. One of his fingers dipped into her panties, finding her clit and stroking it.

“Fuck,” Elain moaned. She’d become very well acquainted with her own hand recently, but it was nothing like what Lucien could make her feel.

“Feel good?” Lucien teased, stroking faster. Elain nodded in response. “Glad I’m not out of practice,” he said, twisting his hand so his finger just brushed her entrance while his thumb continued to circle her clit.

Pressure was building in her stomach, pulling her perilously close to the edge. Elain fought against the hand holding her in place, desperate for relief from the building tension.

“You look so pretty like this,” Lucien said, “coming apart with the barest touch.”

“Don’t,” Elain took a shuddering breath as Lucien pushed her panties to one side and slid the very tip of one finger in, “don’t get too big of an ego from it.”

“Too late,” Lucien said, sliding that finger in slowly. “I think it doubled in size in the last hour.”

“Unfortunate.”

Lucien laughed, fucking her in earnest now with that finger, his thumb flicking harder at her clit.

Elain could feel herself unraveling, and Lucien could too from the way he picked up his pace, sliding a second finger into her cunt.

“Come for me, love.”

That pet name, one Elain didn’t think she’d ever hear from his lips again, sent her free falling over the edge as she came on his fingers. He worked her through it, kept pumping until she was a panting mess above him.

He pressed a kiss at the top of her panties, which she still wore, barely.

“Fuck me, Lucien,” Elain begged. As much as she usually liked riding his face, she thought waiting any longer to have his length inside her would kill her.

“So needy,” Lucien purred, but stood anyway. He met her eyes as he held his fingers up to his lips, licked her arousal off of them. And moaned. “I missed this taste.”

Elain pressed a hand against his bare chest, pushing him back towards the bed.

“How are the neighbors supposed to hear then,” Lucien teased, but flopping back on the comforter obediently.

“We’ll be loud enough,” Elain promised, at last taking off her pants. Lucien looked dazed as he pushed up onto his elbows. She smirked down at him, and reached up to unclip her bra.

“Fuck,” Lucien muttered, staring transfixed at her breasts as she climbed up the bed towards him. 

“Fuck me,” she demanded bending down to kiss him.

Lucien laughed, a sound of utter delight, and rested a hand on her hips, guiding her down to his hard length. Elain sank down onto him, releasing a breath as he stretched her walls perfectly. She’d yet to find a dildo that quite compared, and it took her a second to get used to the feeling of being so full.

“I’ve got you, love,” Lucien said, tightening his grip on her hips and pulling her off him slightly before guiding her back down. She felt that first drag deep in her core, the feeling of him rubbing against her.

She braced herself against his chest, rolling her hips faster, harder. Lucien angled to meet her, hitting that spot inside her that had her moaning.

“Louder,” Lucien insisted. “I want everyone to hear how loud you can get.”

“Only for you,” Elain swore, lacing one of her hands with his. Lucien’s other hand flicked one of her nipples, playing with it. Elain could feel pleasure building at the base of her spine, and she rolled her hips harder, dragging the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs against his rough skin.

“I’m so close, love,” Lucien said.

“Baby,” she moaned, leaning down to kiss him. Lucien groaned into her mouth, sucking on her bottom lip. Her core tightened in response and Lucien slammed his hips up into hers as he came. His fingers found her clit, circling it until Elain broke apart over him, pleasure surging through her.

“You’re perfect,” Lucien sighed, once he was spent.

Above him, Elain froze.

Lucien sat up. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Elain said, shaking her head, even as she climbed off him.

“No.” Lucien held onto her hand. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m fine,” Elain insisted.

Lucien’s nostrils flared. “Why won’t you talk to me? You kick me out of the house, I think you’re done, and then every time we see each other you want to pretend everything’s fine. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Elain turned away from him.

“And I get it, okay,” Lucien continued. “I’m more invested in this relationship than you are, but that doesn’t mean you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“How can you say that,” Elain asked, voice small.

“Because—” Lucien seemed at a loss for words. “Listen, I know, I’ve always known, that I love you more than you love me.”

“Bullshit.”

“You kicked me out,” Lucien roared.

Elain whirled around to face him “I gave you up. Because you think I’m perfect, you always talk about how fucking perfect I am and I can’t live up to that. It’s like you don’t even see me, you just see this amazing beautiful model who has her life together and I can’t be that for you.”

“I can’t see you if you never open up to me,” Lucien said softly.

“How can I when your expectations are stifling? Lucien, future senator, and his pretty perfect wife. One step out of place and some trashy gossip bog is writing about it and I’m tired.”

Lucien stiffed. “I didn’t know being with me was such a burden.”

“I—” Elain said at a loss for words. She’d been bottling it up for months, this fear that she could never be who Lucien deserved, frustration that he never noticed, and now she didn’t know what to say.

“No, I get it.” Lucien stood, grabbing his clothes off the floor and putting them on hastily. “You want to be free of me, I’ll respect that.”

“You’re not listening,” Elain snapped.

Lucien reached the door. “You had months to talk to me Elain, months. So if you want to give me up I’m going.” He opened the door, enough to slide through, shutting it firmly behind him.

Elain stared at the wood for a long minute before slumping down onto the bed. She buried her head in her hands, tears welling up in her eyes. Her mid was racing. To go after Lucien or leave him alone?

She debated calling Vassa, but any explanation she had would feel pathetic. Oh you know how  you’ve been begging me to tell you why I kicked Lucien out for months? It’s because he thinks I’m too perfect.

Which really left Elain one option. She grabbed a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt, a shirt she realized after she left her room was one of Lucien’s she’d kept on accident.

Mercifully, Nesta opened on the first knock.

“Is Cassian here?” Elain asked.

“He just left,” Nesta said. “Why, do you need him?”

Elain cleared her throat. “I was actually hoping you were alone.” Nesta’s brows arched in surprise but stepped aside to let Elain in.

“So Cassian,” Elain said, sitting on Nesta’s bed. Better to start with something safe. Well, safer.

“You and Lucien can settle whatever bet you had going,” Nesta said, flushing.

“That was supposed to be a secret.”

“You’re not as sneaky as you both think,” Nesta said with a shrug. Elain almost laughed at the irony.

“And?” she asked instead.

Nesta was a shade of red Elain had never seen her sister turn before. “It was good. Really good actually.” 

“Do we have a new future Mr. Archeron on our hands?”

Nesta joined her on the bed with a sigh. “Odds are low since I told him it meant nothing.”

“Nesta.”

“Shut up,” Nesta muttered. “We don’t all stumble into perfect relationships like you and Feyre.”

“It’s not,” Elain said defensively. “Far from it.”

“Your biggest problem is probably Lucien snoring too much at night,” Nesta said, rolling her eyes. “So spare me.”

“We’re getting divorced,” Elain blurted, her mouth acting before her brain caught up to it.

In any other situation Elain probably would have laughed at the expression of utter shock on Nesta’s face.

“You’re joking.”

“I signed the final papers before we left,” Elain admitted.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Nesta asked.

Elain’s lip wobbled against her will. “How could I when I knew how disappointed you and Feyre would be.”

She wasn’t sure what she expected Nesta’s response to be, but it wasn’t a hug. Nesta’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close for perhaps the third time in her life. And Elain couldn’t keep the tears in anymore.

Her shoulders shook with sobs as tears dripped down her cheeks, her nose. She was sure she looked like an utter mess.

“I’m sorry I made you come on this trip,”  Nesta whispered in her ear.

Elain cried harder. “I want to go home. I don’t want any more photos.”

“I’ll talk to Cassian,” Nesta promised, “and then I’ll get us on the next flight out of here.”

“Promise?” Elain asked, loathing how pitiful she sounded.

“You’ll never have to see Lucien again,” Nesta swore.

[riaki]

RIKOOOOO HI HELLO i saw ur wip game and now im breaking in to ask abt (u already know 😭😭) two tickets, please & his nails are painted coffee…. AND AND bestfriend’s sister too … if it’s ok…. IM SO CURIOUS im gonna devour these riko >:33

HI ARI 😽😽 not u breaking in i’m scared 😭 putting u n @mossmurdock ‘s asks together :3

ok!!! first the makima fic..

the first thing you notice when you enter the cinema lobby is that it’s practically deserted.

it’s like a ghost town, except the tumbleweeds are empty popcorn bags stained with grease, and the cacti are the railing banisters that fail to be organized in a way that suggests there’s ever a coherent line for tickets. it smells of cleaning products that failed to do their job and the tacky perfumes teenagers like to spray, and a little bit of mold. the whole feel of it is unnerving; it’s almost like a liminal space, with empty corridors that seem to stretch on forever, following the ebb and flow of the wave pattern on the carpets littered with stray candy wrappers and paper straws.

really, it’s a dump.

the second thing you notice when you enter the cinema lobby is the lady standing at the entrance to the hallway which contains all the theaters; she’s looking at a poster. something sci-fi ish; a little too gory for your taste, with a grim-looking doctor holding a bloody syringe that’s far too big to be in proportion. it’s a funny contrast; the girl has pretty orange hair that looks like it’d turn a deep shade of gentle auburn with age, like the leaves on the trees when autumn paints the world gold and red. it’s done in a neat little braid; the plaits are slightly messy, but you can tell she’s put effort into making them look presentable. even though you can’t see her face, you know it suits her. she looks like she’d be one of those petite, delicate girls, like a fragile flower. yet, she seems entranced by such a tacky poster.

is that strange?

i don’t have much written bc i’m still apprehensive about writing makima… she seems like such a challenge i’m not ready for 😭😭 but i will try my best for u two >:3 these are all also kinda old so the writing style might be inconsistent

the coffee shop sugu fic next!!!

you sidle up to the counter, next to the girl who’s eyeing her drink with absolute distaste, nose winkled in disgust. you wonder if he accidentally gave her black coffee. but you can barely bring yourself to care when it’s your turn to place your order— standing in front of the counter, fiddling with the ring on your finger as you find your eyes drifting over every corner of his face; the dark gauges on his ears, the gentle smile that has his soft lips curving upward so gently they make you feel like you’re the sweetest thing in the world to him.

“hey there. what can i get you?” he asks. his voice is smooth; it sounds like he could be the lead singer in an indie band. at that thought, your gaze drifts to his fingers, watching as they drum over the marble countertop.

you look up at his face again when you give him your order, listing it off like muscle memory as the other half of your brain works double time to memorize his face, and you curse whoever decided not to give the employees nametags, inadvertently condemning you to work up the courage to ask this pretty vulpine coffee boy his name.

this is SO OLD. i highly doubt i’ll be able to finish it but if u like it ari i’ll try :’3

bestfriends sister is for an ask i got a while ago so i havent rlly been writing for it….

”do you smoke with shoko a lot?” you asked quietly, watching as his thumb runs over the lighter’s wheel. he flicks it a few times, scraping and scraping ‘til a fire finally blooms, a bright phoenix stuck in a cage of gasoline and metal.

“sometimes. she got me into it.” suguru answers, taking a deep drag. his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, ever so slightly. for a moment, you wonder what it’d be like to sink your teeth into it and watch him bleed red like a pomegranate in a vampire’s jaws.

“she told me you don’t like seeing her do it, though. so neither of us do it as often.”

oh.

yeah… idk what i’m going to do with this one but whatever i’ll figure it out 🤞

[quinloki]

Sunny Daze

A SFW gift to the lovely @rosiinantes

OC x Rosinante - Set in the earlier pre-confession days.

Summary: Rosi and Sunny have a good bit in common, unfortunately one of those things is that they're both impressive klutzes. Which is probably why they might have been better off not teaming up against Doll and Bellemere for some volleyball.

I couldn't decide between a story and an art, so I did both \o/

Rosi crashes into the soft sand with enough force that he wonders idly just how soft it really is. The stinging force of the ball against his hand was a small blessing as he scrambles to his feet. He can hear them shouting and the soft whump! of the ball as they send it back into the air. There’s no more volley left in their options, however, he’s going to have to get it over the net.

Sunny had sent the ball soaring up into the air, by luck or intent it was hard to say, neither of them were particularly proficient at sports, but they did work well together.

Using his height to their advantage he leaps up and smacks the ball solidly, sending it careening down, barely making it over the net. Bellamere dives, a wave of sand kicking up from the impact as she sends it almost straight up.

Doll darts in, leaping and spiking the ball ruthlessly. Rosi’s eyes go wide a split second before the ball collides with his nose, bouncing off into a wild direction as he falls flat onto his back. His only consolation has he reels back is the fact that he didn’t hear - or feel - a crunch.

“Rosi!” Sunny yells, a gasp in their voice.

“Oops.” Doll scratches the back of her head, looking more annoyed than concerned.

Bell laughs even as Sunny frets. “He’s fine, Sunny Bunny,” she teases. “It’ll take a lot more than a ball to the face to hurt Rosi.”

“M’okay,” Rosi insists, patting his nose with his hand a few times before smiling at Sunny. “Like she says, I’m tougher than that.”

“Of course you’re tougher than that,” Sunny pouts, grabbing Rosi’s face in their hands and turning his face this way and that. “But it’s my job to be sure.”

Rosi’s face dusts pink as the blood rushes to it. “I-I’m fine, I promise!” He stammers, Bell nearly cackling from the other side of the net. “Let’s get back to the match.”

With the ball back in play, so too was the merciless joy of the fates who watched over Rosi and Sunny.

Diving for another attempted save, Rosi wasn’t lucky enough to get the ball at a good angle a second time and instead, bounced it off Sunny’s back. For every point they managed to score against Bell and Doll they seemed equally skilled at scoring a point against themselves.

An unfortunate double whammy, since the other team wasn’t just good at the sport, but also far less accident prone than they were. By the end of it, both Rosi and Sunny were sore, a bit bruised, sand burned in a few places, and more than a little tired.

Sitting in the soft sand Sunny breathes in deep, letting out an exasperated sigh before breaking into a smile.

“We didn’t win,” they admit cheerfully, their bright expression turned toward Rosi. “But I had a lot of fun!”

Rosi feels every muscle in his body flinch, and hopes that no one else can see it as much as he can feel it, before giving Sunny a smile in return. “Yeah, me too!” 

Bellemere crouches down in front of the two of them and cocks a brow. “You two sure it’s not because of the synchronized crash you had? All that height difference and you still managed to crack your eggs into one another.” She reaches out and brushes Sunny’s hair aside, looking at the red spot by their hair line.

“S’not too bad.” She mutters before sweeping Rosi’s long bangs aside. “I think your thick hair cushioned the blow for both of you.” Bell declares with a wide grin before she stops. Tilting her head a little she reaches out with her other hand and sweeps back the rest of Rosi’s bangs.

“Oh wow, lookit you. That mug’s pretty handsome when you aren’t hiding it behind your hair.” Bell laughs and Rosi waves her hands away, pink creeping up into his cheeks.

“Don’t tease him like that Bell, he’s plenty handsome just the way he is.” Sunny scolds.

“I didn’t think you’d confess like that.” Doll says flatly, exhaling smoke into the air lazily. “That’s way more bold than I expected.”

“Con-CONFESS?!” Sunny nearly squeaks the word, face already hurtling toward an impressive shade of crimson. “It’s not a - I wasn’t - that - he’s my friend, and I’m just being object- er- I mean, I’m -.”

“Just statin’ the facts?” Bellemere prompts, finally having pity on her friend.

“Yes! Thank you. S-see, Buh-Bell understands!” Sunny declares, pouting at Doll.

Bell’s gaze shifts from Sunny to Rosi, her expression pointed and almost commanding as she holds his attention for a moment.. “Yeah, I understand.” After a second she smiles, watching Rosi become more and more flustered. “And I’m not the only one, but mercy, mercy on my poor friends.”

Bellemere stands up and stretches, a bright smile on her face again. “We shouldn’t tease you too much, you two are going to be footing the bill for lunch today, so let’s go eat!”

[torpublishinggroup]

5 Dragons Daniel M. Ford’s Adept Wizard Could Beat in a Fight

Dragonslayers have been around almost as long as dragons, but what makes a dragonslayer? Truthfully, a dragonslayer can be anyone. Your nephew, that street performer, your mail carrier… But what about a young necromancer, fresh out of school and with a chip on her shoulder? Yes. 

For more on that, we bring you Daniel M. Ford to discuss the dragonslaying capabilities of Aelis de Lenti, the main character of his fantasy novel The Warden.

Check it out!

by Daniel M. Ford

Aelis de Lenti, the main character of my book The Warden, is, well, a warden, which is to say a wizard with a specific mandate to protect an area or group of people, as a kind of marshal/investigator/magistrate. And as my readers will know, her magic is not generally of the explosive, openly powerful, full-of-offensive-potential kind. So if Aelis was to go hunting dragons, she’d have to be very careful, select her targets well, prepare, and look for weaknesses other people might not see. Thankfully for her, Aelis is, while not a world class planner, really good at making it up as she goes along, and she has a couple friends—Tun, the half-orc woodsman, and Maurenia, the half-elven adventuress—that can generally be convinced to help her out.

Fáfnir

Reaching way back into the origins of European dragons here, I think it’s reasonable to say that Aelis could come up with the idea of digging a hole and waiting for the wyrm to slither over it so she can stab it in the belly. There’s also the fact that eating the heart of this particular dragon is said to bring knowledge, which combines two things Aelis can’t get enough of; fancy cuisine and knowing things other people don’t.

The Sleeping Dragon from The Sleeping Dragon by Joel Rosenberg

Right away, the Sleeping part is a giveaway for exactly how Aelis will approach this fight.

Quietly.

But there’s more to it. In Rosneberg’s Guardians of the Flame series[1], dragons have a pretty well known and debilitating weakness. There is an herb known as dragonbane—a little on the nose—that is commonly found and widely known to interfere with a dragon’s magical metabolism. This generally keeps dragons of this world from messing with humans too openly. Once Aelis gets her hands on some of this herb, a few hours in a decently stocked alchemical lab—even the not very well stocked lab in her tower would probably do—and she can definitely refine it into something extra lethal. Then it’s just a matter of getting close enough, quietly enough, with some crossbow bolts or arrows to get the job done.

Or, more likely, convincing Tun and/or Maurenia to get close enough to get the job done. After all, an Abjurer’s job in a fight isn’t necessarily to deliver the killing blow so much as it is to cover those who are better prepared or equipped to do so. At least, that’s what she’d tell her friends while she talked them into it. Can her wards stand up to dragon breath? Of course they can! Probably. But we won’t even need to find out, right?

Verimthrax Pejorative, from Dragonslayer

A classic fantasy film dragon that proves very dangerous to even an experienced wizard, as seen in the film, Vermithrax Pejorative is tough to take via a conventional approach to dragon-slaying.

Aelis de Lenti is anything but conventional.

In the film, Ulrich the wizard is able to discern that Vermithrax is affected by a disease that bothers all dragons as they age, a scale-rot that causes constant pain. Aelis could certainly diagnose this, and after coaxing the dragon to get close by staking out the goat[2]to provide a free meal, and then offering to treat her scale-rot. Once she does start treating that disease, her Necromantic abilities will teach her all about draconic anatomy and weaknesses, giving her something she can surely exploit. Maybe Vermithrax dies quietly in her sleep, maybe her firebreath is suddenly disabled, maybe the next time she flies she finds that the muscles of her wings have mysteriously atrophied and she crashes into a hill. There is no equivalent of the Hippocratic Oath in Aelis’s world.

A Dracolich, any Dracolich

Sure, sure, Dracoliches like Daurgothoth the Creeping Doom are a menace to fantasy worlds. When you marry the magical power and resistances of a lich with the thousands of years of experience, intelligence, and magical abilities of a dragon, you get something fearsome.

And not one of them has ever dealt with something like a Lyceum trained Necrobane. Aelis is at her best and most powerful when fighting the undead. Once she’s got some practical experience against living dragons and is able to put that together with her Necromantic power, she can surely find a way to take down a dracolich.

Rand al’Thor, The Dragon Reborn[3]

Yes, I hear you. Rand is catastrophically powerful. If he’s got any of his angreal or sa’angreal around, like Callandor, he can probably destroy the world, or close enough as makes no difference. Aelis can’t match him with magic. She probably can’t match him blade to blade, either, as Rand is a confirmed blademaster and she is competent. Her friends wold surely know better than to even try. So why do I think Aelis could take him?

Quite simply, (at least in the early books) Rand is terrified of women, especially one that acts even a little bit interested in him. And later books Rand flat out refuses to fight a woman. Is this cheating? Fine! Aelis isn’t above cheating to achieve a goal! She can easily take Rand al’Thor[4]based on these two data points alone.

So, there you have it; the Top 5 Dragons Aelis de Lenti can take in a fight. It requires a little unorthodox thinking, because Aelis doesn’t flash the kind of power you might expect from a fantasy wizard. But she excels at getting the most out of what she does have; her wards, her Necromancy, her friends, and her willingness to cheat[5].

Notes

[1]    A portal fantasy where a group of college students get transported to the world they play a fantasy RPG in and decide to Do the Industrial Revolution in order to end slavery. It shows its age in spots (it began in 1983) but it’s worth a read.

[2]    If you’ve read The Warden you know exactly which goat I mean

[3]    I do not suggest that Aelis could handle the armies surrounding Rand, the Far Dareis Mai who guard him, or Elayne, Aviendha, and Min. Just Rand.

[4]    Provided we ignore all the stuff about his world-shattering power and the massive armies, incredible resources, and similarly powerful people who’d be invested in his victory.

[5]    Please understand that I have great respect, even love, for all the dragons mentioned here.

[asphodellic]

Draco Malfoy cries in the bath sometimes.

Usually after full moons, when he's aching and exhausted, eyes gritty and mouth dry and foul tasting. It takes a great deal of effort to haul himself out of bed and down the hall to his bathroom, to blink in the harsh glow of florescent lighting before he gives that up as a bad job and navigates via the scant natural light that trickles in through the tiny window above the clawfoot tub. His hand shakes as he starts the tub filling, running the water as hot as he can stand it, and then when he tips in a generous measure of the muscle relaxing bath salts Luna brings for him every month. They turn the water a murky green color, and the sharp scent of medicinal herbs and whatever other mad things Luna has mixed in fill the small bathroom in due time.

He avoids his reflection, not needing to see how haggard and worn down he looks, not needing to deal with mapping the jagged course of the scars that run up and down his body, standing out in soft pinks and stark whites against his pale skin. And the Mark, ever present in burning black lines. The less said about that the better, he thinks viciously.

Draco folds himself into the tub once it's filled, the water sluicing over his skin, burning where it's too hot. He hisses at the temperature until his body relaxes into it, and then he lets out a breath, leaning against the curved back of the tub and letting out a sigh.

That's usually when the tears come.

It feels bloody stupid, weeping in his bathtub at ten in the fucking morning, like he's some sort of child, but everything feels heavier on the mornings after the full moon. Or perhaps he's just too tired to carry the usual weight when his body has just broken and remade itself twice in the span of twelve hours or so.

The tears track down his cheeks, and Draco lets them fall. After all, why shouldn't he? There's no one here to tell him off. To sneer and say that Malfoys do not show weakness, Draco. There's no one to stare at him with pity or disdain. To ask what someone in his position has to cry about or who he thinks he is.

There's also no one to wipe his tears away or ask if there's anything they can do. There's no one to offer to wash his back or tame the tangles in his curtain of hair. But that's fine. That's quite alright. That's how it's always been, really. Just Draco.

His father was better at throwing curses to get his way than he was at being a father, and his mother... Well, she did her best, but she was just as trapped and under Lucius' thumb as Draco was. He can remember being six, nine, fourteen, sixteen alone in his room, whispering the words to himself that he desperately wished someone else would say.

You did well, Draco.

We're so proud of you, Draco.

It's all going to be alright, Draco.

We'll keep you safe.

Draco sinks lower in the tub, letting his too long legs bend at the knees, wincing when pain shoots through his muscles and all the way down to his bones. He needs a bigger tub, especially if he's going to go all maudlin and pathetic like this.

He swipes angrily at a tear when it slips down his nose, but he's too tired to maintain that emotion. He's too tired to do much other than float, letting the ends of his hair trail into the water, uncaring. It'll be a beast to detangle and smooth out later, but that is firmly a problem in future Draco's court. Current Draco cannot be arsed to care.

Not about his hair, not about the growing pile of mail on his kitchen table. Not about the fact that his stores of food are dwindling and that ordering takeout five days out of seven is terrible for his figure. Spicy noodles make him feel alive.

Draco thinks he might be a bit depressed, and really he doesn't think he can be blamed. Between the nightmares from the trauma of the war and the nightmares from the trauma of playing chew toy to a vengeful werewolf and the nightmares from having a father who molded him into a teenaged fascist with no remorse, it's honestly a miracle Draco functions at all. He thinks he's earned a leave of absence from his job, despite how much he loves Curse Breaking and the thrill of working out the complex puzzles of the nasty little numbers people put on their antiques and things. He's earned the days he lays in bed all day, emerging only to drink endless cups of tea and eat pieces of cake and toffee that makes his teeth hurt. He's earned ignoring when his Floo chimes, knowing it'll be Pansy or Blaise or Greg, just making sure he's okay.

He is not okay, thanks very much. Draco doesn't see how they could expect him to be.

In a few days, it'll all be fine. Draco will deal with his hair and his mail and his shopping. He'll resume his curious obsession with Muggle cook books and learning to make casseroles and paella and souffles with an ever shifting combination of magic and Muggle technique. He will reach out to his friends and apologize for disappearing. He'll let Pansy take him shopping, do a whiskey tasting with Blaise, let Greg fuss over him with his surprisingly gentle care. He'll go back to work and lose himself in interesting cases.

He'll fit himself back into his life, and it will be easier to breathe. For a time. But the edges of that gaping chasm will still be there. The sadness, the grief. The guilt. The loneliness. It's always there, eating at him little by little. It comes on almost as regularly as the full moon and leaves him just as aching and helpless in its grip.

Sometimes he tells himself it's the price he pays for surviving. For making it through a war on the wrong side and coming out alive. He thinks about Potter and the haunted look he wears sometimes, on the chance occasions they bump into each other, and then wonders if maybe the sides don't matter so much.

He wonders if Potter is ever just too tired to care. If he ever just stays in bed all day because he can. Because it feels better that going through the motions.

He wonders if Potter ever cries in the bath.

"I'm sure if he does, then there are any number of Weasleys to rush in and tell him how wonderful he is," he mutters under his breath, and his voice still sounds loud in the otherwise silent bathroom. The mental image of a gaggle of gingers crowded into a small bathroom, each tripping over themselves to do something ever more grand to make Potter smile makes him smile for all of half a second.

Then he sighs and exhales messily. If a few more tears fall, splashing down into the green water, there's no one to notice, and anyway all of it will be washed away soon enough.

[ennaku-sirri-da]

Uyir-kaga eluthukal ( Letters for life )

[ ID: Small sized digital fanart of Putunia Mollar, Jimothan Botch and Trencil Varnnia from Smile For Me the game. Trencil and Jimothan are close to game style while Putunia is more in the artists simplified semi realistic one. The sketch is somewhat messy and is flatly colored.

The changes to her are scruffier hair, a visible big nose, a toned down reddish-brown skin tone and the dress she wears is simply patterned like a purple petunia such as the skirt bottom having a splash of spotting.

Jimothan gestures to the first vowel of the Tamil alphabet written in a book that is 'A' pronounced like the 'u' in 'nun'. There are papers, pencils and a rubber scattered behind this book. Jimothan is saying," A for Annam" which means swan. Putunia is sitting in his lap and leaning forward horizontally to the open alphabet book. She says "A-A-A..." but Jim corrects her," No baby it's "Ah"..."

Jim is wearing a baniyan and blue dhoti. Behind him Trencil garlands his arms around Jim's neck, listening to it all with a neutral expression. The background is a pale gradient of green, yellow, red. End ID]

--

HAHA get it, get my pun, does anyone get my Tam pun🥸( disguise emoji with glasses and moustache indicating amusement in this context)

But yeah since Tunia has the heritage, but due to her circumstances she does not know her parents and didn't have a chance to learn her mother tongue, later on Jimothan teaches her from scratch best as he can. He isn't a teacher by job but he sure can darn try atleast for the basics. Tunia calls it's her "Tamil Tution" with "Jim-Appa"!!! He isn't a 100% serious and boring in it all the time, come on guys this is our community daughter. He does uppu-muttai with her, which is like.

You carry around someone like a 'salt bag' and keep asking how much people will pay for them, like those guys who sell things on the road. However once he gets a high bid Jim simply says she's too precious to give sorryyyyy X ) (X eyed face emote with smile ) !!

And you know, I projected here BUT I think since he did not like, grow up a Lot in Russia in my HC but was US-raised then as for his own language, Habit can speak reasonably well in casual conversation but more formal stuff and bigger words are lost on him. He can write the script from muscle memory since he was taught when young but he didn't use it much later anymore in an English world, so he cannot form many written words on his own. And he can't read very well. So yeah there's a lot of room for improvement if he'd like and I'm learning too hdjdjdh yanno.

BUT! He has an accent doesn't he? Correct me if this sounds contrived BUT for that one I reasoned that his parents were just-arrived immigrants, so he probably picked up their speech patterns ( But mostly from his mother and also his uncle who helped her raise him in the early years as her husband's brother-in-law and her own brother ). Uncle Grigory lives back in Russia though( I'll figure out a specific place) and later on he only sees him during month-long vacations. And the last thing was that Habit really did not interact well with so many people as he grows up more so that relative isolation might be a factor too. That said considering everything( it would fade) the accent probably isn't like thick, but noticeable if you listen.

Anywayyy what I wanted to say is that Habit probably tries to learn more about this stuff too either self taught or with help and I like to imagine Putunia and him bouncing off what they've learned that day with each other. Also they make each other say things in the other's language just to hear them butcher it LMAO Putunia I BET as a Certified Baby Kid just, catches Habit's face and pulls it around to make him say the sounds like stretching him for " EEEEE" SHES PUPPETING HIM 🥺 ( pleading emoji )

Fun fact: There is actually a Super Special Hatch at the back of Habit's head and if you find it, open it, and stick your grubby hands in then you can PUPPET HIM AND MAKE HIM SAY WHATEVER STUPID THING YOU WANT!!!!!!

[tsumune]

more than enough

pairing: gn!reader x suna rintarou

synopsis: suna feels insecure about what he offers in your relationship, and after seeing how excited you get listening to your friend talk about the extravagant things her boyfriend does for her, he decides to try something himself.

tags: angst?? to fluff (just slight angst)

suna comes home from practice to find the house silent. that’s odd, he thinks to himself as he looks for you. his muscles hurt, he’s sore, and a small part of him is irritated that dinner isn’t ready, but all those thoughts are wiped from his head when he turns on the lights in the bedroom and finds you fast asleep, your eyebrows creased together and your nose slightly red as if you had just cried.

“y/n? what’s wrong, are you okay?” suna softly shakes you awake.

“mm.. rin? ah, what time is it?” your first thought when you wake is to look at the clock, and to your horror it’s already 8PM. “oh no, rin i’m so sorry i didn’t make dinner yet. i’ll go make some now-”

“hey no, it’s okay. tell me what’s wrong first, were you crying?”

“it’s not a big deal rin. don’t worry about me, but you need to eat.”

suna’s own eyebrows crease at this. “why are you so intent on getting me to eat?”

you look at him with confusion, as if the answer was obvious. “because your game is coming up soon, rin. you have to keep your body healthy and not worry about other things.”

suna frowns at this. he knows he’s not the most expressive boyfriend, but he cares about you so much and wants you to know you’re not second to the other things in his life, no matter how busy he gets. “just because i have a game coming up doesn’t mean i’ll ignore you. tell me.”

he’s taken aback by the sudden tears filling your eyes, and in a panic his hands quickly wrap around your figure. “i got yelled at by my boss... i don’t want to lose this job, rin.”

“shh, you won’t baby. you’re doing so well, one mistake doesn’t define you.” you calm down as suna continues holding you in his arms and smoothing your hair, and the both of you enjoy some takeout and your favourite movie after you relax. but suna can’t shake the heavy feeling in his chest that you were bottling up your feelings in an effort to not worry him, and the guilt that his first thought when he came home was that you didn’t make dinner. it worries him even more.

days have passed since the night you broke down, but suna still feels a bit tense. he won his game, and in celebration you asked if he wanted to go out with your friends. in truth, he just wanted to make you feel better, but you hadn’t brought up the topic since that night, so he decides going out and forgetting about everything might be a good thing. as the night goes on though, his heart only feels heavier.

“and then, he opened the trunk and there were bouquets of flowers and balloons in there!”

suna watches your eyes light up as your friend talks about the latest dramatic gesture her boyfriend did for her. he used to internally roll his eyes at this and think he was being over the top, but looking at how happy your friend was talking about him and how excited it seemed to make you feel, he wonders if you ever smile that brightly when you tell your friends about him. actually, do you talk to your friends about him at all? does he do anything that warrants a story like this? suna isn’t sure if he can remember. sure, you go out for anniversary dinners, but everyone does that, don’t they? if you don’t go to him for comfort, and he doesn’t plan big surprises for you... what does he do for you?

“rin. rinnie. rintarou!” suna snaps back to attention at your voice combined with the flick to his forehead.

“ow!” you laugh, and that was enough to ease a bit of suna’s worries. he decides he’ll take some (albeit dramatic) inspiration from your friend’s boyfriend, and step up his antics so that he can hear that laugh more often.

“can i open my eyes now?”

“no wait, not yet,” suna drags you a bit farther. “okay, now you can.”

you open your eyes, and to your surprise, your bed is decorated with flowers in the shape of a heart. you can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of you.

“rin, what is this,” you wipe your eyes as you laugh. “since when were you so corny?”

suna feels his heart drop at your comment. he worked hard on this. he thought you would like it, thought it would be something he could do for you. thought it would put him up there on the good boyfriend list next to your friend’s boyfriend.

“rin, why did you use whole flowers with the stems still on? don’t people usually just use the petals? silly guy.” you say cheekily, thinking to tease your boyfriend for his random cute act a bit. you admit it’s a bit odd coming from suna, but it’s endearing in a clumsy way, and you appreciated it. but when you turn around to face him, suna’s head is turned to the ground and he looks unexpectedly serious.

“sorry if you don’t like it. just thought i’d do something different for a change,” he says through gritted teeth before leaving to the living room.

“hey rin, wait!” you try to catch his arm as he goes, but he just shakes you off. “rin? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to dismiss your work like that. i was just kidding.” instead of responding, suna plants himself facedown on the couch.

you start to worry. “rin? are you okay? can you talk to me about it.” silence. “rin... i talked to you last time. can you talk to me too, please?”

at this, suna turns his head. this time, it’s your turn to be surprised at the uncommon sight of his glossy eyes. “i just wanted to be a good boyfriend... you didn’t come to me last time you were hurt, and then i saw how excited you were when your friend talked about her boyfriend’s stupid surprises... i thought you would be happy if i did more of those things too.”

“oh rin.” you sigh and climb onto the sofa, softly squishing him. your hands cup his face and you stare into his eyes, neither of you moving until suna gives in. “what?”

“you’re more than enough for me, rin.” suna has heard these words countless times before. you’ve said them to him often, and in his heart he knows you’ve always felt this way, but with the recent events and mix of emotions he’s experiencing, he feels like he’s been knocked off his feet and swept away by the undeniable love in them. “you don’t have to do the things you see others do, i love you just the way you are. you don’t have to change yourself for me, rin, you’re already everything i could wish for as is. you’re sweet and attentive and always put me first, i’m aware of that, and you show me you care in the little things, like what you just tried.” suna’s eyes shift to the side in embarrassment at the thought of the flowers still sitting on your shared bed. “i wouldn’t mind if you never did that again, but i also wouldn’t mind if you wanted to try again. and i promise i’ll take you seriously. just use only petals next time,” you playfully pinch your boyfriend on the nose, and this time he laughs with you.

the two of you head back to the room to pick up the flowers and put them in a vase (suna was beet red the whole time), and then lay down on the bed to cuddle. after a while, suna turns to you.

“promise me you’ll talk to me if you ever feel upset again,” you open your mouth and suna already knows what you’re about to say, “i know. i know i’m not the best at it either, but i’ll try harder too. you just really had me worried.”

“i didn’t want to worry you before your game.”

“yeah, and i was worried what it meant that you didn’t want to talk to me. so your plan backfired,” he pouted.

“okay okay,” you laugh with a defeated sigh. “from now on, better communication. pinky promise.”

“what are you, five?” suna scoffs, before connecting your pinkies together. “pinky promise.”

a/n: methinks this could’ve been executed better but i just wanted to write something lol might rewrite/reuse the premise of this idea sometime

[vegitoswife-archive]

A/N: Aunt Flo is here for her visit with me, and I’d like some catharsis, so have this! As always with my fanfiction of these two, how I interpret them stems from personal headcanons, since they have basically nothing in canon. Got to give them something to work with.

Prompt: How would the fusions of Goku and Vegeta aid you during your cramp-filled menstrual cycle?

[ Vegito x Gender-Neutral & AFAB!Reader ] [ Gogeta x Gender-Neutral & AFAB!Reader ]

CWs: Menstruation talk, Light sexual themes.

— This man is a bit clueless. He has memories of Goku helping Chi Chi deal with her period, but they’re all muddled and foggy. So, Vegito’s arrogant self might do a poor job of expressing some empathy for your unrelatable plight, but he will do his best for you. Contrary to how he jokes at times, he does actually love you a lot.

— He can do simple tasks like fetch you water and painkillers no problem, but if you request more physical things like he rubbing the achy parts of you, you might have to remind him to not be too hard. He usually never forgets his strength, but in this monthly period of suffering for you, your body does require a little bit more tender care that he forgoes. Cuddling is always a safe bet.

— Gito does tend to forget things quickly if they aren’t something he constantly thinks about on a day-to-day basis, so if he goes out to buy you more pads or tampons, you’ll desperately need to send his phone a picture or two of the brands / versions you want so he’ll get it right. Please save your proud, universal-level warrior the embarrassment of walking into a pharmacy and looking utterly puzzled in the feminine care section.

— Whether your appetite is very active or very hindered, he’ll make sure you’re at least relatively fed. Cooking isn’t his forte per-se, but he knows how to whip up a couple of dishes that can be both filling and easy on your stomach. Getting take-out is also on the table. If you’re not in the mood for much outside of mere snacks, he’ll buy bags full of them for you. Eating something is better than nothing.

— Don’t worry about the other unpleasant, additional effects your body often undergoes during your cycle. You got gas? Sure, Saiyans have a sharper sense of smell compared to humans so Vegito won’t like his nose picking up the stench, but he isn’t so immature that he’ll hold your bodily functions against you. And thanks to the assortment of food he eats on a daily basis, whenever he gets gas, his poots usually smell worse than yours anyway. He has no room to talk.

— If your libido is running wild and you’re itching to take extra showers with him...he’d be more than happy to take you up on that. The warm water is soothing, will wash away the blood, and having an orgasm (or two...or three...Vegito knows how to pleasure you to say the least) could help in relieving some of the pain of your cramps to boot. A win-win situation!

— Just like Vegito, he also can’t completely recall the memories of Goku learning about what to do for Chi Chi during her time of the month. Unlike Vegito, Gogeta would actually do his own research into what he can do to help make your cycle as easy to bear as possible. He’s all about gaining knowledge, especially if it’s for your sake.

— No matter what you need, he’ll get it for you. After he memorizes your “basic care items”, you can expect for he to fetch them for you without you needing to ask. He’ll give you massages if you’re suffering from muscle aches, face held in its usual stoic manner but his eyes say more than enough of how soft he is for you.

— Gogeta will go get you more pads or tampons without compliant, but he will bring you back a surplus amount. As in, enough to last you the rest of your current cycle, plus the next three or so further down the year. You might have to find a place to store the extra packs until you need them, but hey, it’s the thought that counts.

— It’s rather funny because he doesn’t seem like the type at all based on his typical demeanor, but you know that your beloved can be quite the mother hen in his own way. When he’s home from training and his shift at his workplace, he will cook you meals. He’ll make sure you’re fed and have leftovers of nutritious foods to eat. If part of you starts to feel that you might be unintentionally taking advantage of his kindness, he’ll shoot those doubts right back down. If he was feeling ill (rare but not impossible), you’d do your best to look after him. What kind of partner would he be if he didn’t return the favor?

— If you’re gassy, pass it around him if you must. It’s better for you to release it then to hold it inside. But don’t be offended if you catch Gogeta spraying a little air freshener behind your back. Please, keep his superhuman sense of smell in your thoughts. It is perfectly ok to find his dramatics funny though; his also tend to smell worse.

— Gogeta prefers taking baths with you over showering, but he knows that the bathwater getting tainted by your flow of blood would be no good - if you don’t like using tampons. He’ll wash your body with such gentle movements that your libido might flare to life if it wasn’t already. You’ll be kept in there with him until you’re feeling content. He’ll try to behave, and not leave too many lovebites on you. You’re dealing with enough pain in your cycle as is.

[gashinabts]

anti-romantic | (m)

word: 4.1k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre:  Slight Angst, Fluff, Smut

Summary: celebrating father’s day without actually having kids is more fun according to you and jungkook

Warnings: hidden oral sex (fem), blow job, public sex, slight choking, riding, some roleplay (hehe)

a/n: lol this was in my drafts and was supposed to be posted on father’s day but idk if you guys liked this couple...but here it is! Might do more drabbles and stuff with this couple. lemme know what you guys think.

Read this first —> anti-baby fever

“ Happy Father's day!,” you place the bouquet of flowers on the desk before jumping on his body that was peacefully sleeping in the bed. There’s a grunt that comes out and you nuzzle your way into his neck, kissing his moles until he wakes up.

Jungkook's eyes open slowly, yawning loudly before speaking. “ How’d you find out that I have a kid? I thought I did a better job of being discreet,” he smiles when you bite his neck. His large hands hold onto your waist moving you so that you are sitting on top of him. 

“ Yeah happy father’s day...because I do be swallowing your babies,” you hold back your laughter as you try to finish your sentence. 

Jungkook barks a laugh, shaking his head at the dirty joke. “ I’m surprised to hear that coming from your mouth but I’m also proud,” he brings your head down to kiss your lips. There’s a slight gap when he pulls apart, “ So where is my breakfast in bed?” Jungkook asks, his lips barely touch yours as he speaks.

“ Damn, you're taking this roleplay too far,” you huff a laugh. “ Do you also want me to buy you a barbecue grill?” His eyes playfully roll, bringing you down to kiss him once more.

----

As funny as it sounds your dad is trying to convince Jungkook to buy a similar barbecue as him, they are talking among themselves, grilling some meat as you are with your mother and sister. It's a small gathering and you just want to go back inside your parents house because it is a million degrees outside. “ Auntie Y/N come swim with us,” one of your nephews comes to splash water on you. He laughs loudly when you give him an annoyed look, as the cold water drenched your summer dress. 

“ I don’t have any swim suits and if I get in there I will probably drown you in front of your mom,” you feel a pinch on your left arm from your mom giving you a disappointed look. On the other hand your sister laughs, shaking your head as she breastfeeds her daughter. The little brat taunts you sticking his tongue out then swims along to play with his cousins. “ I’m kidding,” you tell your mom. 

Turning back to drinking your ice tea, you sigh at the words your mother says next. “ So when are you and Jungkook going to get married? You are not getting anymore younger and it will be hard to get pregnant-”

“ Mom...,” your sister tries to defend you.

The thought of swimming sounds more appealing to you, anything that makes you stray away from this conversation with your mother. “ We actually got married, we just didn’t invite you to the wedding,” you look at your mom, her eyes shooting daggers at you. “ Imma go swimming. My stuff is still in my old room, yeah?” Your mom nods her head, pinching the bridge of her nose, probably at the annoyance of you. 

Stepping in your old room feels nice, the cold air hitting your slightly sweaty face, instantly making you cool down. You toss your body on your bed, closing your eyes, taking a breather before going outside and into the boiling pits of hell. “ This brings up old memories,” you hear your boyfriend. Smiling you look to the doorway, his body leaning against your door entrance, his arms are crossed and there’s muscle definition on his biceps. 

“ Yeah, because we lost our virginity on this bed,” you hold your hand out so he can come closer to you. Jungkook leans down, giving you quick kisses before giving you a suggestive look. 

“ Should we recreate it?,” his eyebrows go up and down. 

“ Okay,” you whisper, bringing his head down to kiss him again. “ That means you have to come in the first minute,” you laugh as he lets out a groan. Pushing him away you get up from the bed, and go to the drawers and grab a swimsuit. Putting it on you feel the straps digging into your hips and your top barely covering your boobs. Of course you don’t fit your high school swimsuits. 

“ Fuck,” you hear Jungkook sigh. Turning around you give him a confused look until you look down and see a boner. “ You look so fucking hot,” he comes to grab at your ass but you smack it off. Jungkook likes that you can’t fit in your bottoms, your cheeks showing making him want to bite it. Your hips look wider and he wants to hold on to it, feeling your supple skin that spills out from the thin straps. And the way your boobs spill out like they are purposely begging him to suckle on them. 

The apple of cheeks blush, your eyes widening at the intense stare. Shaking your head while looking at the door entrance nervously to see if anyone saw this scene. “ We are not fucking here, wait till we get home,” you lift your top up to try to cover more skin. 

“ Let me just taste you, baby. I’ll be quick,” his hands hold your hands kissing it, giving you his best puppy eyes. He just wants to smell you and taste you. A whole parade happens in his head when you agree, leaning against the dresser and parting your legs. 

Maybe it’s the heat that went to your head, that made you dumbly nod without thinking about the consequences that might happen. It turns you on even more, that you guys have to be careful and aware of your surroundings. Jungkook goes on his knees, pecking the inside of thigh before moving the swimsuit to the side, showing him your glistening folds. Immediately, his mouth is on you, tasting your arousal on his taste buds. One of your hands goes up to your mouth softening your quiet moans. The other hand, holds the dresser tightly, afraid that you might fall down.

His tongue lathers you wetness, looking up to see your chest heavily move and down. Your pretty eyes looking down at his mouth work wonders on you. “ Jungkook,” you moan. His rough hands lift your thighs up, stuffing his face more in, tongue penetrating in and out in your entrance. 

Lewd noises are being made by the two of you. Jungkook’s lips smack against your pussy, while your moaning has increased despite your hand muffling the noises. Your eyes widen when you notice your door is still open, anybody can pass by because the bathroom is across your room. “ Pay attention to me baby,” Jungkook smacks the outside of your thigh.

Listening to his words, you look into his doe eyes, his tongue do small licks on clit then sucking it before his lips plop off loudly. “ I don’t want you wearing this outside, because all I want to do is fuck you silly,” his finger goes to your entrance, thrusting slowly with a slight curl. “ I love the way you look in this,” his other finger joins and watches your hips ride them like it was his cock. He blows cool air onto your folds watching your body twitch at the sensation.

“ Yeah? I can barely fit in it,” you say as you toss your head back. There’s a cooling sensation against your heat, pulling your bottoms more to the side so it doesn’t go in the way of his mouth.

“ That’s why I love it, your body spilling out of it and it’s fucking hot. Look at your tits barely covered, your nipples are begging to be sucked on,” he gives you a sloppy kiss on your clit before continuing, “ Your hips look really wide, you know that means you can take my cock better.” His thumb rubs your clit fast, more wetness seeps out of your entrance making his fingers slide in faster. “ I also love it because I got to see you grow into and out of this swimsuit. Just proves to you that I’m always here,” he pecks your thigh. 

The words make you blush, insecurities washed away because you never thought that not fitting your swimsuit could be this hot and liberating. More importantly it makes you want to come all over his mouth. “ I love you,” you whisper softly.

His eyes are sparkly, looking like he holds the constellations in his eyes. “ I love you,” he says. Then placing his mouth on your cunt. Eating you up like he didn’t eat at all today. He moans into you, as your hands hold his hair tightly, the vibrations hitting your sensitive nerves making you moan loudly as you come against his wet mouth. Your hips moving against his mouth as you come down your high, finally stopping after a few seconds. Jungkook places your bikini back in place, kissing your hip. 

His hair is in his face, you tuck a strand behind his ear, “ Yeah, I’m not going swimming anymore,” you laugh in disbelief that your boyfriend ate you out in your childhood bedroom while your family is outside. Taking off your bikini you return back to your summer dress.

“ Yeah, we don’t want you flashing a nipple when you do a cannonball,” he laughs, getting up and watching you look at the mirror. There’s a slight frown on your face, he comes closer plopping his head on your shoulder. “ What’s wrong?” his hands are placed on your waist drumming his fingers. 

“ Do you want to get married?” your eyes meet Jungkook’s. His eyes widening at your question, there’s a couple seconds of silence. His body immediately leaves your, creating a small gap. Turning around to face him instead of talking to his reflection. 

Jungkook's eyebrows raise. “ Are you asking me or is it your mom?” When he was talking to your father earlier, he noticed you looking annoyed while talking to your mother. There was a small frown on your pretty face, and he wanted to kiss it off but your father was talking about which charcoal he uses for the grill.

“ It’s better to just get it over with, so she won’t have to keep pestering me,” you shrug. Which is probably not the right choice of words, since Jungkook lets out a disappointed sigh. His hand pushes his hair back in frustration. 

“ Seriously, Y/N?” As much of Jungkook would love to get married to you, he doesn’t want to get proposed because ‘you just want to get it over with’, it leaves his heart feeling heavy that you don’t see the problem in this. 

The tone in his voice sounds just like your mother, a chastising tone, and you get annoyed.“ I thought you wanted that,” you toss your head back. Not knowing what you are doing wrong. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to argue, especially now, since you guys are supposed to be spending family time. “ Not like that,” he rolls his eyes at how unaware you are. There’s a few seconds of silence, his hands push his hair back in frustration. “ Let’s go back out,” he says in defeat. Walking ahead of you, not holding your hand like he usually does.

The slider door is right in front of you, your family are talking among each other. One thing you don’t want is to be on bad terms. “ Jungkook, are you upset?” You grab his hand before he can walk outside to carry on talking to your family. 

“ Yes. Let’s talk about this later, okay?” Jungkook turns around giving you a smile. Not the kind of smile that makes your heart flutter, it’s the type of smile that you give when you don’t want to deal with someone. In defeat, you nod letting go of his hand, as he walks to the pool getting splashed by your nephews. He brightly smiles at them, wiping the water off his face before getting a water gun and chasing them with it. 

Sighing you walk to your dad who is still grilling meat, he looks at you smiling. “ Something wrong kiddo,” he asks as he flips over the meat. Typically, you never talk to your dad about your problems, only ever going to your sister sometimes but she’s not much help because she’s with your mom.

“ Jungkook and I had a...little argument,” you say, looking to the pool to see him spinning your nephew around. “ I asked if we should just get married because of mom’s bickering. Jungkook got upset,” you scratch your arm. Looking back at your dad whose face is at a grimace, your eyes widening. “ What?” 

There is playful screaming and laughing in the background, you ignore it trying to listen to your dad’s words. “ Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? I wouldn’t want to be asked like that,” he chuckles lightly. 

Replaying the conversation that you had with Jungkook, you mentally smack your palm to your head. Your mom shouldn’t be the reason why you should marry Jungkook. Jungkook is a hopeless romantic, he likes to be swallowed whole by your love. So of course he wouldn’t want to be proposed like that. Your dad pats your back in comfort before leaving you in your thoughts as you look at Jungkook making funny faces at your baby niece.

Jungkook is back in the house grabbing plates from the kitchen cabinet, you close the slider door quietly, walking behind him as he reaches for the last plate. Wrapping your arms behind his small waist, his breath hitches, exhaling your name. “ I’m a dummy,” you whisper.

Jungkook softly laughs, “ No you're not. I’m sorry for overreacting-“

“ You weren’t though,” you lay your head completely on his back, hearing his heartbeat. “ I wasn’t being considerate,” you kiss his back through his shirt. The plate makes a small clunk sound when he places it on the counter, turning around in your arms. His brown eyes look into your eyes before kissing you on your cheek. 

“ Baby, do you want me to talk to your mom?” Jungkook asks, his large hand caressing your cheek. You give him a questioning hum. “ That we don’t have to get married right now. That we are perfectly fine just the way we are.”

The silky strands are gliding in between your fingers, as you push it away from his face.“ Hmm. Maybe she will listen to you better,” you smile. Jungkook can easily make your mom's views change within seconds with his charming smile. 

---

Jungkook lifts you up the ground before you enter the house, crossing the threshold as he holds you in his strong arms. “ Why do you keep doing this with every house,” you laugh, holding on to him tightly. “ We don’t even know we are buying this house,” you say as he finally puts you down. Looking around the empty house, you visualize a sofa and tv in the spacious living room. 

“Exactly we don’t know, it’s bad luck not to do that,” he also looks around. “ This is nice,” he whistles looking at your hips swaying as you walk to the kitchen. “ The kitchen I mean,” he cockily says.

Turning around you playfully swat him, “ Can you imagine yourself cooking here?” The cold countertops touch your fingertips as they slide against it. You can see yourself cooking here making food for you and Jungkook, his hands on your hips as he watches you. 

Jungkook likes the way the set up of the kitchen, the granite countertops and the dark brown wooden cabinets give the kitchen an expensive feel. Compared to the first apartment he got with you in college this place is a thousand times better. His heart flutters knowing that he gets to share the rest of his life with you in this house. He comes closer to you hugging you from behind as you look inside the empty cabinets. “ Mhm, yeah I can see myself cooking here,” his nose rubs against your neck loving the perfume you're wearing. He can also see himself doing other things in this kitchen. “ And eating here too,” he says, blowing a raspberry in your neck.

Laughing in his hold you turn your head to kiss his cheek, “ Let’s go up. Before you act on your fantasies,” you grab his hand. Going up the stairs you guys checked out the three rooms and bathrooms. This house is something that you’ve been wanting for the past year, it’s spacious, has a big backyard to plant your flowers, and two hours away from your parents. “ We can put our bed here,” you point in the middle. “ The dressers here,” you point in two different directions. 

Jungkook smiles fondly as you point at random spaces, he’s pretty sure that you pointed at the same area more than once for different furniture going there. “ How about the other rooms? You don’t think three rooms is big?”

You shake your head, “ I think it’s perfect. Our room, your gaming room, and maybe a guest room in case my mom wants to spend the night,” you shrug at the end. There’s a rush of serotonin just imagining getting this house. “ What are your thoughts?” His pretty eyes look around the empty big room and smile on his face.

“ Let’s get it,” he looks back at you. Your eyes meet and you grab his shirt pulling him down to kiss him to show him how happy you are. Pulling away, he holds your chin looking at your silly smile. ‘ Yeah, this is definitely home,’ Jungkook thinks to himself.

---

“ Fuck Y/N,” Jungkook moans loudly his head hitting the back of his seat.  Your mouth sucks his tip lightly as your hand moves up and down his cock. His breathing is getting louder, and he wraps your hair around his hand, wanting to see your eyes. “ Couldn't even wait to go inside the apartment,” he shakes his head in fake disappointment. But this was far from disappointing. 

Moaning against his tip, you shake your head. Deciding on buying the house turned you on and you couldn’t wait to fuck him. Your lips make a plop sound as you pull apart, “ That wouldn’t be any fun,” you kiss his tip. Causing him to groan at your cunningness. “ We should fuck one last time in this parking lot,” you blow cold air on his tip before going down again. 

Jungkook wipes the foggy car window to make sure no one is here looking at you choking on his cock. You're letting guttural noises and your eyes water at his size, your hips move side to side in the air, probably itching to be touched. “ Yeah, choke on it,” Jungkook pushes your head down more, throat tightening around his cock. “ Are you crying on my cock?” Jungkook condescending laughs.

 It turns you on how mean he is being, your tears come down even more at the humiliation but you enjoy it. You can feel your panties are getting stuck on your folds and you badly want to relieve yourself. Jungkook pushes your head down one last time before pulling your head by your hair to kiss you. His tongue pushes against your exchanging moans against each other. He helps you move your body over the center console so you are now sitting on his lap. “ Wait Jungkook,” you pull apart. “ I need to take my pants off,” you look at the tight space around you. There’s not enough room to take it off where you are.

Jungkook screams at himself for not owning a bigger car. “ Uhh, just take your pants off real quick outside and come back inside the car,” he looks out to see no one out. The things you do for sex, you hurridely take off your pants and returning back to the position. His hands are on your thighs rubbing them up and down, as he makes outs with you. Your hips move against his trying to pleasure yourself. 

Jungkook pulls away staring at you with a lustful gaze, his hands moving up to caress your face, “ Can’t believe we are doing this,” he says, laughing in disbelief.

“ Mmm, same.  Something about you signing the papers and paying the deposit turned me on,” you kiss his cheek, while stroking him in your hands.

He groans, tossing his head back showing his bare neck for a quick second, “ Yeah?” He gives you a boyish smile. “ When I saw you walking up the stairs. Kinda wanted to fuck you right there,” he kisses your neck. He moans your name when you insert his cock into your tight entrance. 

“ Next time, do it. Take me anywhere in our new house,” you hold his head close to your neck. Feeling him sucking on your skin, probably marking his love for you. “ Are you gonna fuck me like your little housewife?” Smiling to yourself when you hear him groan your name. You breath out heavily, thighs shaking as you move up and down on his cock.

Jungkook's hands wrap around your waist tightly, thrusting up into you. “ My little housewife,” he whispers to himself. It doesn’t necessarily fit your image, due to the fact that you have a high paying job and you guys aren’t even married but it turns him on. There’s something a little demeaning about it and it twisted as it sounds he wants to continue with this little act you proposed. “ Gotta have you wearing nothing but an apron on,” he snarkily smiles up to you. 

His hard thrust is making you jostle in his arms, and you cry even more just imagining him fucking you from behind as you cook him dinner. “ Yeah what else would you want from me, my lovely husband,” you put your hands to the car ceiling trying to keep yourself ahold. 

His heart does a little jump at the word of husband, he knows it’s only you teasing but he loves the way it comes out of your mouth. “ Mmm, you have to be waiting on your knees when I come home from work,” he says while one of his hands trails up your neck lightly squeezing it. “ Fuck your mouth since you’re a needy slut waiting for her husband like a good wife.” 

Your walls tighten when you hear him speaking nothing but filth to you. His thrust hits the spot that makes you drool and eyes rolling back. “ Fuck Jungkook,” you whisper. The car is probably moving from how hard Jungkook is fucking. If someone were to walk by they can obviously tell that you guys are doing the nasty, but you don’t care, this is your last day in this apartment complex.

Jungkook looks at your tits bouncing and his mouth does his best at sucking at them. He moans around it loving the feeling of your nipple in his mouth. His eyes look up at you staring down at him, sucking it hard. His lips plops off your tit, “ Are you gonna come for me, my pretty little housewife?” He watches as you nod your head up and down, holding the car ceiling as your life depends on it. He wants to remember this moment forever. His hand holds your soft tit, fingers pinching your nipple, while his mouth goes back to the other nipple sucking it softly. Your walls squeeze his cock tight as you come around it while moaning his name loudly. He prays that the windows do a good job muffling your moans, but he doubts it.

Your hands come down brushing his hair back, “ Come in your wife,” your body is still shaking from the intense orgasm. “ Make good use of me,” you tell him. His eyes roll back at words. He sucks harder on your nipple and you hiss in pain and delight. He holds you tighter in his arms, thrusting in quick motions as he comes into you. 

The feeling of his come in your cunt makes you want him to fuck you all over again. Knowing that you are the only person in the world to have him inside you like this makes you prideful. The breaths die down and Jungkook is now sucking your nipples softly, humming around it. Your hands softly brushing his hair back, letting him do his thing. “ I didn’t know you would be so into the housewife role playing,” you laugh to yourself. 

His lips part from your tits, and he laughs with you. “ You're into it just as I was,” he pecks your boob one last time before taking his cock out of you. The semen slowly comes down your lips, his finger coming to massage it into your folds. His mouth waters wondering what you and him taste like together. He looks up, “ Wanna quit your job and I’ll wife you up?” he laughs when you swat his hand away.