#one of my favorite books I’ve ever owned

[cruel-hiraeth]

*gets comfortable on your couch

i’m listening. i know you love talking about your most favorite most beloved harbinger 🌝💛

this is all below the cut because i have exactly 1 (one) modicum of self respect. this is the most embarrassing thing i’ve ever done online.

a couple of notes:

right now, this is a canon-divergent au, so the “traveler” does not exist.

while i haven’t decided which region i’d be from yet, this all takes place in liyue, and i’m not from liyue. so i’m a foreigner with few interpersonal ties.

our dynamic is very one-sided enemies to lovers because i really can't stand him, whereas he’s a soft/subtle yandere because he knows from the first time he sees me that i’m “it” for him. but it’s a slow burn because he’s in it for the long haul.

i live and work in liyue when we meet. i’m not anyone particularly special or noteworthy; i simply work with an antique bookseller, interested in learning the ropes. i have an interest in not just regional literature, but international literature, and i hope to start my own business someday.

the 11th fatui harbinger is doing what he always does: shady business. he’s on a particularly lengthy mission (which may or may not involve trying to topple the government) at northland bank. since he’s in liyue for months and acts essentially as a diplomat, he knows the city inside and out. he has his eye on me for a while. i notice him because i’m aware of the fatui—his clothing gives him away. but i have no interest in becoming friendly with him because everyone knows the fatui is bad news.

eventually, childe stops by and pretends like he’s interested in the books (he is but not for the right reasons) and our rapport begins there. he’s charming, but i’m allergic to charm as someone who’s inherently distrustful… i also just dislike him off the bat. i very obviously dodge all his flirting attempts.

after some period of time, he starts asking questions—trying to get to know me—and i’m begrudging with my responses. but also he’s a paying customer (one of our highest paying customers, to my disdain) so i must be civil and engage without divulging too much. with our encounters becoming more and more frequent, he becomes more forward (i.e. he not-so-subtly asks me out) and i always say know. he’s persistent and i turn him down without fail. annoyingly, he doesn’t get discouraged by my rejection; in fact, he kind of (very much) relishes in it—it makes cracking me all the more rewarding.

the timeline in my mind isn’t set in stone, but this continues for at least a year. i try to live my life and he remains a thorn in my side. but there comes a point when he visits me late one night as i’m closing shop that he’s returning to snezhnaya, unsure of if/when he will return. and he has the gall to ask—yet again—whether i’ll go on a date with him if he returns someday.

it’s kind of a ridiculous proposition, and i’m so eager to get him out of my hair (and life) that i tell him fine! i will eventually go out with you if you ever return on 1 condition. and the condition is that he has to bring me [insert an incredibly rare book that i have yet to develop lore for but is basically impossible to track down]. and only if he returns with said book in hand will i grace him with my presence on a date. and i’m truly convinced that he will never be able to find it and i continue on with my life.

fast forward a year or so: guess which fatui harbinger returns to liyue with the aforementioned book in hand, wearing a shit eating grin?

i seem to have forgotten that he's filthy rich and he works in (what is essentially) an insanely intricate intelligence organization that has tabs on all the black markets across teyvat and—yeah. he finds the book. and i'm so shocked/thrilled to see the book that i forget to be pissed for a minute.

so i go on a date with him because i’m a woman of my word. i suspect that he’s going to take me on some stupidly stuffy fancy date since he has more money than he knows what to do with. but we actually go to a hole-in-the-wall eatery that i’ve never tried even though i’ve lived in liyue for several years. and then we walk around the city at sunset and i sort of maybe find myself enjoying his company...

i kind of envision the date ending with him being humble for the first time in my presence. he says something like, “i really appreciated you going out with me tonight. i’d love to do this again sometime, but i won’t force you to." (the humility lasts for all of 3 seconds, but—maybe—i don’t hate him as much as i thought i did...)

so i say something along the lines of, “well, maybe if you get on your knees and beg me, i’ll let you take me out again.”

and then he says something gross like, “i can do a lot more on my knees that just beg~” so i immediately want to kill him again. but our relationship sort of progresses from there…

the end i’m done embarrassing myself for the evening.

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: Bakugou dies but comes back to life, “comes back wrong” trope, implied fighting, angst

When Bakugou died, you’re not sure how you went on living. Grief had taken over your life, sat you in the passenger side while it cruised off the highway into icy waters. And even then, you couldn’t find the energy to drown.

It’s why there’s a sudden uptick of energy when you’re promised to have him back. Some top scientists contact you months after his death, tell you to hurry down to the headquarters labs, come and rejoice for what you’re about to witness. And you’re horrified, to say the least.

“This isn’t my husband.” Are your first words when you walk in, watch the figure on the other side of the glass examine its own hands. It looks like your husband but—but his hair isn’t the right shade of blond all over. His nose bridge had a slight bump after a scuffle with a villain. He had a scar on his hand but—but it never looked like it was to sew a pinky beside the other fingers.

“Is that really my husband?” You ask next in disbelief, slowly entering the room. Bakugou’s head snaps up, his eyes a little brighter than you remember but—they hold so much emotion. So much memory, so much panic, so much guilt.

“I left you.” He mutters, his voice raspy and ragged, and you wonder if it’ll always be like this now. It makes you cry a little harder than it should, but you only embrace each other. He’s cold and his shoulders don’t hold the same mass and his back doesn’t carry the same scars. There’s one, jagged and rough, running down his back, and you think, you think that’s where they slipped a new spine in.

“Welcome back home.” You tell him, weeks after meeting him again, new and not totally—Katsuki. He’s stiff and he doesn’t immediately take off his boots when he enters, and it worries you. Makes you think if you’ve just let a stranger into your home, one that has stolen your dead husbands face. Makes you wonder if he’ll be as loving as Katsuki once was, or if he’ll become your monster looming over you with the guilt of not being able to rest anymore.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You whisper against his mouth one night, a little while after he’s moved back. You don’t know why you lay under him, why you let him nestle himself inside of you, why you let him hold you against his chest. Katsuki always ran his hands over your cheeks and neck whenever he held you like this, but this…man, only holds himself up with his hands resting beside your head. It’s alien, how he looks at you, how his hips are methodically measured with every thrust, how he kisses you every 8 seconds. You wonder if he’s more robot than Frankenstein monster.

“Why did you come back to me like this?” You ask him one night, barricaded in the bathroom away from him. You can hear his sobs on the other side, his pleading to be let in. He tells you he never wanted to come back if he had to be like this, that he’s sorry, please let him in, he misses the warmth of your skin, he’s never been so cold before, he’s never liked the cold.

“Is this considered cheating?” You ask yourself aloud one night, when Bakugou is forced back to the lab when he becomes too…un-Bakugou. To sleep with a man that is your husband in every way but? Your husband has been dead for a year now, and yet you stroke the chin of the man that tries so hard to be him everyday, but fails so miserably at it every time.

“I’ll come back to you right this time.” Bakugou promises to you when he’s strapped down to leave for the lab and before he’s sedated. But you don’t believe him—you never did. Your husband is dead, and this animated corpse has been nothing but a cheap mockery of everything you’ve lost and something you will never truly get back.

[mydearestblue]

i just finished the first thrawn book and I'M NOT OKAY

[telephonicsonnyboy]

just bought Midnight Cowboy (the novel) for $8.88 on a secondhand books site. yay!

[surielstea]

Sweet Temptations

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel enters a bet with his brothers on who can go the longest without sex with their mate, Reader makes it hard for him to win.

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | 18+ | p in v | creampie | rough sex | shadow play | the slightest bit of bondage | pet names (love, baby, angel) | 2k words of smut cause I love all you freaks

6.2k words

I tread softly down the long hallway, following the golden tether connecting me and my mate. Shadows weave through my fingers and twirl up my calves, following at my side until I stop at a familiar door.

I creak open the private library's door and peer my head in only to find Azriel in a large leather chair that I would be drowning in if it was me who sat in it. He was lounging carelessly, a book between his hands as he flipped through the pages.

If he knew I was at the doorway he didn’t show it, just continued reading without a stir, he didn't look up to me either. So I took the opportunity to gawk at the beauty that is my mate, to admire his elegant features. It was no secret Azriel was the prettiest of the three-winged Illyrians. It didn't matter what your type was, my mate seemed to be able to make anyone flush bright red with a few words.

My gaze wandered over his complexion that I’ve admired countless times, those sharp cheekbones that seemed to be able to cut steel, his tousled black waves that drifted over his forehead, those hazel eyes rapidly scanning over the page of his book, and his golden skin that was fully on display due to him being shirtless, I was the culprit for his missing clothing, the soft black shirt draped over my frame, going down to my exposed thighs.

"I can feel you staring." He finally speaks and I startle but he still doesn't look up to me. I decided just looking wasn't nearly enough, because anybody could look at him, and I didn't want to be anybody, I wanted my hands on him the way only a lover could have. I step into the private library and close the door behind me. My steps are silent as I approach his side but again, he's still not sparing me a glance.

Something like envy makes me frown, being jealous over a book was foolish but Azriel's eyes were always on me. He is constantly observing me, silently watching no matter the circumstance. It was such a normal occurrence in our relationship that I had grown used to his eternal notice, not realizing how much I loved it until now, until this foreign attention-craving attitude took over my emotions that screamed look at me.

"Azriel," I sit on the armrest of the large chair, I feel pathetic being so desperate like this.

"Hm?" That's all he replies with, but he still won't look at me, why won't he notice me? It wasn't that I needed the attention. He could do his own thing I didn't mind, but I also didn't want to be ignored.

"I'm going to make some breakfast, do you have a preference?" I place a hand on his arm, tracing my nail over his tattoo, something I do so often that I don’t have to look at the tattoo to know where the inky lines are.

"Whatever you make will be good." He said, his words slightly clipped. I crease my brows but nod and place a kiss on his temple before sliding off of the chair. Perhaps he was just preoccupied with his thoughts.

I walk back to the door, giving him one last confused glance before leaving the library and aiming my way towards the kitchen.

I decided on making a breakfast quiche, something simple so I could mull over my thoughts while I baked. I learned the recipe from Rhys's mother so it comforted both me and Azriel I suppose, growing up in that house every winter when they weren’t preoccupied at windhaven held some of my favorite memories, as well as some of the worst. I mated with Azriel in that house, on my twentieth birthday it had clicked and we’ve been together ever since— but this was the first time Azriel has ever ignored me.

As I cooked I wondered what was going on with him, to be distracted over what he was reading I could understand, I've done that to him nearly a hundred times but the way he spoke almost sounded restrained? Like he needed to hold back from saying anything else or even doing anything else but sit there still reading.

I played the quiche once it was done on two ornate plates. I've always liked to cook, but the three winged males seemed to be against it when we were younger, saying that I didn't have to since we were in Illyria, that just because I was a girl didn’t mean I had to pick up that lifestyle. I had to make it clear to them that I wasn't their maid and I wasn't even Illyrian, it's not like I went around cleaning up after the messy boys anyway, in fact, Rhys’s mother gave them more chores than me, which has always irked Cassian.

"Az, food is ready!" I shouted down the hall and to my surprise he came down the stairs in mere seconds, without the book in his hands. "For you." I slid one of the plates over to him and he blinked down at it, still not looking at me as he carried them over to the table.

"My favorite," He hummed as I walked over to him and placed utensils beside his dish. "Thank you." He picks up the fool and cuts into his quiche. I frown. He usually kisses me after I make a meal for him, or at the least gives me a hug. I muffle a sigh and opt to lean down and kiss his cheek instead, then take a seat beside him in front of my own meal.

We ate in silence like always, but today it was slightly uncomfortable, not fully awkward, but just... off. The food was good and Azriel had it disappearing in minutes, at least he still likes my cooking. When I finish he collects both of our dishes and takes them to the sink where he'll wash them later tonight.

"It was delicious as always my love, thank you." He calls over his shoulder as he wipes his hands, but he doesn't look at me. I would do anything right now to get him to look at me.

I look at the wall of windows to my side and notice the sun rising, golden and pink hues painting the sky. "Don't you have training with Cassian today?" I ask, flitting my eyes back to him.

"Mhm, I'm going to get ready now." He says at the base of the stairs. My stomach twists anxiously, have I done something wrong? Why is he being so distant?

“Can I come?” I ask once he’s halfway up the steps.

“If you’d like to, get dressed,” He replies dryly and a frown tugs at my lips. He only talked to me in vague words, not weighing in on his own opinion on anything like I was used to, normal flowing conversation. And maybe I was in my head, but I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to watch my mate train under the golden sun.

I rush up the stairs and enter my shared bedroom, going straight to the armoire and finding a simple outfit. I pull a pair of pants on, I wasn’t training and only spectating but it’d feel wrong to show up to a training ring in a gown. I swapped out Azriel’s shirt that still clung to my body for a top that matched my flowing bottoms, the style reminding me of what Amren typically wore.

“Az can you tie me?” I approached his side of the bedroom where he was adjusting the siphon on his gauntlet. I turned around and held my hair up before he could reply, but instead of his hands that grabbed ahold of the strings it was silky shadows, cold against my bare back as they tied the strings into dainty bows.

He walked out of the room before they were finished and I chased after him, feeling pathetic while trying any ploy to get his attention but if he would just tell me what was going on I’d be willing to help him, but I couldn’t do that if he ignored me.

I intertwined my hand with his and he squeezed it on instinct, then quickly loosened his hold like he wasn’t allowed to show me any form of affection.

He wasted no time before shadow-walking us to the top of the house of wind where Cassian always trained with my mate. He doesn't say anything, just lets us slip into that darkness of realms. I cling to his arm tighter, just in case I fall into another pitch-black realm full of mysterious creatures. The darkness only lasted a mere second until we were on the roof of the mansion Az and I used to live in.

I steady myself with Azriel's arm but he doesn't return the movement, as if he didn't want me to be anywhere near him. I disband our arms as soon as I can stand on my own. I notice Cassian across the rooftop, Nesta beside him, seething so noticeably I thought steam might come from her ears. I walk over to the sitting area where the water station resides, Nesta following suit as our mates warm up with their usual movements.

I knew better than to ask Nesta why she seemed so irritated but when she sat right beside me I felt safe enough to say she wasn't mad at anything to do with me.

Nesta and I had become close friends while I resided at the house of wind, Azriel and I only moved out about a year after her and Cassian’s mating bond clicked. But during that time Nesta would often confide in me. When she felt she couldn't talk to Cassian but needed someone, anyone who would understand. I happened to be that person. It started with romance book recommendations the house hadn't already given to her, then moved to deeper things. Things like Tomas or problems she was having with Cassian, or even her struggles with the power from the Cauldron. However, there were still things she refused to talk about, her sisters for example.

"I'm going to kill him." She gritted out as the two males began to spar.

"Tell me about it." I huffed, staring at the warriors fighting so roughly, not their usual fluid movements. Like they needed to get an anger out that's been pent up. Sweat glistened off their tan skin, discarding their shirts minutes ago— not going past me or Nesta's notice. The golden sun beamed down on them like a spotlight as they battled, swords clashing and slamming down onto the others, they were uncontrolled and savage, so far from the routine maneuvers and clever counters.

"What'd he do this time?" I ask, propping my elbows on my knees and leaning my chin into my hands, boredom enveloping me with open arms.

"He's not paying any attention to me." She huffs and I freeze. "I went as far as to try and give him head this morning and he outright ignored me," Nesta grumbled, picking at her nails. My confusion doubled over.

"Azriel's doing the same," I mumbled, sitting up to look at her confused. "He won’t look at me and will barely even talk to me," I explain and she glares at the two men on the mat, her stare so deathly I thought lightning might strike down on our mates.

"There's no way they've turned celibate right?" Nesta creased her brows and I snort at the idea alone.

"Them two? No way." I shake my head, leaning back into my chair.

"Maybe we should contact Feyre, perhaps Rhys has something to do with this." I offer.

"The three of them always seem to be up to something." She glowered.

"I'll be right back unless you want to come to the River house with me?" I ask. She shakes her head no and I nod, understanding.

I winnow straight into the foyer of the River House. Feyre who was sitting in the living room looked more than pissed. She glanced at me but wasn’t shocked when I suddenly appeared in her home. "Is Rhys ignoring you?" I sigh and she nods with a frown. "Where is he?" I glance around the sitting room as if the High Lord might be hiding.

"Out with Nyx," She kicks the toddler's toy by her foot weakly.

"What the hel is going on?" I sit beside her on the couch.

"They're doing a bet." She rolls her eyes. "Who can ‘hold out’ the longest." She makes a quotation gesture around her words and I scoff.

"You're kidding." My jaw nearly drops.

"Nope. They thought it'd be the only thing they could beat Azriel at, so you probably have it the worst." She huffs. "Stupid Illyrian pride." The high lady uttered. I'm going to strangle my mate.

"So they’re doing a sex ban on each other." I scratch the back of my head in astonishment.

"Sounds typical." She hums.

"I'm going to fix this. We’re going to make them lose." I stand from my seat. "Put on your sluttiest outfit and get Nyx a babysitter," I order her, an idea blooming in my head. "They might be prideful but not even Rhys can resist a wanting female," I explain and a feline smile curves over her lips.

I had told Nesta the same as Feyre, dress in something her mate can’t resist her in, drive him mad. We both left training before it was over. The males didn't bother noticing so we didn't say goodbye.

I took my time in choosing an outfit. The idea of Azriel's pride being more important than so much as looking at me made me beyond furious. If he wanted to ignore me over a stupid bet then I'd give him a taste of his own medicine. I selected a lingerie set that was a cobalt blue, his favorite color to see me in, due to it matching the color of his siphons, it was some possessive nature to have me dressed in a color that so clearly connected me to him.

I put the set on, delicate lace and soft mesh that he's yet to see, the kind I know he loves to rip off. I put on a white nightgown over the garments, sheer enough to still see the sapphire underwear but also opaque enough to prompt curiosity. I leave my hair down, I don't mess with it at all. He likes it down, and likes to run his hands through it. Another thing I won't let him do until he admits to losing this stupid wager between him and his brothers. I put a thin garter on my thigh, the only blue piece fully visible.

I run my fingers along a shelf of perfumes, selecting the one I usually wore when we went on dates, reminding him of those nights he'd run the tip of his nose along the column of my throat and smell that insatiable scent. I sprayed it on me, but also misted his reading chair with it, he couldn't escape the thought of me if he tried. A devious smile curved my lips as I placed the perfume back into its rightful place.

The front door of the house opens and I freeze. I know it's him. I grin and exit our bedroom, padding down the stairs until I'm just across the hall from him. His hair was pushed back and he was still glistening in sweat. Gods, he looked so perfect it was hard to stay mad. But when he didn't bother glancing at me all that rage returned.

A shadow swirled up my thigh and I allowed it to travel around the garter. Another zipped toward me, curving around my waist as if to recognize what I was wearing. I smiled down at the dark tendrils and they zipped away, quickly returning to their master and brushing up his wings, those perfect and large wings I needed my hands on. Shadows curved around his ear, telling him all about what I was wearing and immediately his gaze snapped to mine.

Those hazel eyes finally came into contact with my own. And gods how nice it was to be seen again. I remained strong. I gave him a gentle smile and walked closer.

"What are you doing?" His eyes followed me, that familiar attentiveness I missed so much returning.

"What do you mean?" I tilt my head innocently.

"Why are you dressed like that." His hands fist at his sides and I allow his eyes to drift everywhere.

"The nightgown was a gift from the boutique in The Rainbow, on the house after I bought all those presents for solstice," I explain, the lie easy on my tongue, I had bought this for our anniversary which was only a few weeks from now, but seeing that utterly desperate look on his face made showing him earlier worth it. "Do you not like it?" I do a small twirl and his knuckles turn white as the dress flows up and reveals a portion of my underwear.

"It's see-through." He gritted out and I frowned, looking down at myself.

"Is it? I hadn't realized. It's hard to tell in the darkness of our bedroom I suppose." I shrug, looking back up to him.

"It's pretty, just wear a slip under it if we leave the house." He hums casually, then brushes past me and goes into the library. Anger simmers inside of me as I hear the door close. How had that not worked? How much more direct could I get?

I sigh and quickly follow after him. Opening the door and shutting it behind me. He sat in the leather chair, as expected, book in his hands.

I wandered the room absent-minded, peering at the shelves with curious eyes, plotting my next move.

I smile at the idea I get and begin reaching for a book far out of my reach.

“Az? Can you help me?” I mumble, but my reaching causes my dress to lift so when he looks over at me he’s met with the most tempting sight he had ever seen. His movements were rigid as he stood up, coming closer but I didn’t move out of his way, just continuing to jump for the book. “The green one,” I gestured to the dusty spine and he nods, easily grabbing it for me but once I stop reaching for it I settle flat onto my feet, the curve of my ass coming back to press against his hips. He let out a quiet, low grunt that I wouldn’t have been able to hear if he wasn’t right behind me.

I turn around to face him with a cheeky smile. He holds the book I had no interest in reading out to me, his white knuckling grip proof of his restraint.

“Thanks, Az,” I take the book and he nods with a grunt before going back to his chair, sinking into it with a slightly defeated demeanor, his pitiful expression making me smile.

I bound over to his chair, settling myself on the armrest, my legs draped over his as he continued to ignore me. I place a hand on his bare shoulder and begin massaging the tight area.

"You're sore Az," I mumble. "Maybe we should take a bath?" I tilt my head. His face remains stoic, but he is gripping his book like the edge of a cliff.

I move my hands lower, to his shoulder blade where I could knead the knot of muscle there. "What do you think? I'll even wash your wings." I brush my fingers over where his wings began at his muscular back. He jolted, his book slamming shut and his head whipping to me with a wide lust-filled gaze. "Is that a yes?" I chuckle. He only narrows his eyes, like a silent interrogation. "Az, I'm going to need some words." I place a hand on his cheek.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" He says through his teeth.

"Doing what?" My voice was innocent, if he didn't know any better he'd be buying it.

"I just know those training sessions are so long and hard, I thought it'd be nice to reward my mate." My selected words weren't helping his case.

“What do you know?” He says the words like a threat and I giggle nervously.

“Are you alright Az? You’ve been acting weird all morning,” I observe and a muscle in his jaw feathers as he tightens it shut, I run my fingers down that very jaw, feeling it flex under my touch as he attempts to read me. “Are you worried about something? You know I’m always willing to help you relieve your stress,” I hum, slowly slipping into his lap, straddling over his hips and his eyes just follow the action, admiring the way I fit so perfectly on top of him.

“No, love I’m fine,” He defends and I dip down, trailing kisses down his neck, finding his pulse point and swiping my tongue over the area.

“You sure, there’s nothing I can do for you?” I tease my hips over his erect length, painfully straining against his pants. I return to the area of his neck, sucking hard as he attempts a reply.

“No, I, fuck— love, I’m fine,” He curses and a smile curves my lips in triumph.

“Alright,” I pull from his neck. “If there’s anything you want me to do I’ll do it, okay?” I stress my words with a slight lift to my brows and he nods hesitantly. “I think I’m going to take a nap, why don’t you join me? It could help call your nerves?” I offer and he nods, thinking it a good idea to sleep through the rest of this stupid bet until one of his brothers gives in but by gods was he wrong.

I get off his lap and grab his hands after he sets his book down, pulling him up and then guiding him to our bedroom with an effortless sway of my hips they had his hands tightening on mine.

Once we were in the comfort of our bedroom he shut the door behind us and I let go of his hands in favor of grabbing the straps of my nightgown and dipping them from my shoulders, allowing the sheer fabric to pool at the floor, revealing my lingerie set to him entirely.

“What are you doing?” He grits through his teeth, I look back at him and I nearly laugh. He was backed up against the door like prey trapped in a lion's den. I smirk at him and crawl into our bed.

“That nightgown is too itchy to sleep in, this is much better,” I sigh and he swallows thickly, slowly approaching our bed like it might explode at any sudden movement.

He eventually strips down to his boxers and slides into the sheets beside me, I waste little time before throwing myself over him like a second mattress.

My legs intertwine with his, my arms wrapping around the back of his neck, my body pressed to his. He flexed at the feeling of my breasts brushing against his bare chest.

“Are you always this touchy?” He said and I asked, pulling him impossibly closer.

“You don’t like it?” I feign a pout and he pales, brows creasing.

“No, I’m sorry my love I just, I hadn’t noticed it until today,” He stumbles over his words, making my frown turn into a sickeningly sweet smirk.

“You’re so cute Az,” I mumbled, leaning up and pecking his lips tenderly. “I love you,” I whisper so softly that if he wasn’t so close he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. But he did, and it wasn’t the lingerie, or the perfume, or even kissing his neck that made him snap, no, it was those three words that he thought he’d never hear romantically, and I just gave them to him so casually he thought the world stopped spinning for a moment.

“Oh, fuck it,” He grumbled before crashing his lips onto mine, the tension leaving my body as he rolls over me and settles between my legs. His kiss was starving, like he couldn’t get enough, he had been craving me all day and ignoring that feeling but now it was all crashing down onto him at once and it was impossible to get enough. His kiss was all-consuming as his thumb came to my chin and opened my mouth manually, his tongue slipping inside without forethought. My tongue met his just as quickly, they didn’t battle but they danced around each other, a steady balance of give and take between us.

“You have no idea how much I need to fuck you,” He pants onto my lips and I smile.

“What are you waiting for?” I tease and he shakes his head.

“No, it’s not making love, I need to fuck you,” He warns and a primal part of me loves the tone of his voice, the neediness of his words.

“C’mon Az don’t be shy, fuck me already,” I plead and he moves from my lips down to my neck, his mouth mapping every expanse of skin he can find.

“You’re evil,” He sighs against my chest as I arch my breasts into his face.

“You ignored me all morning, you’re the evil one,” I claim and he smirks.

“I’m sorry baby, let me make it up to you,” He hums, then moves lower, so much lower until his breath was fanning against my inner thigh and he was leaving hickeys trailing up to my heat. His eyes glow golden as he looks up at me, pure lust as his expression.

"Please." I nod my head and he's like a fucking beast ready to have a full-course meal.

He wastes no time, not one second was I not being pleasured. Scarred fingers dip into the waistband of my panties, pulling at them with a force that makes them tear. His breath fans over my slick and I arch up, grabbing onto the sheets to keep myself steady.

He lifts a leg over his shoulder and a long swipe of his perfect tongue passes through my folds. It all happened so quickly, how soaked I was for him. I could feel him smiling against my cunt, as if he was craving the taste of me all day and finally got it on his tongue, his tongue that was swirling over my clit in tight circling motions.

I mewled, my back arching as fingers swiped through my sex, lubing himself with my ecstasy before entering two long fingers where I needed him most.

"Oh fuck," I breathed out, my head falling back against the shelf, it was all so fast, so needy.

"You’re so perfect like this, spread out like a good girl who can’t wait to be eaten," His baritone voice against the apex of my thighs reverberated up my spine making me shiver.

"Mhm," I nod helplessly, relishing in the feeling of his scars rubbing against my sensitive walls, those scars that added so much to the feel of his fingers inside of me, toying with that spongy bundle of nerves that was so relentless for more.

I moaned his name repeatedly, grinding down on his hand and his face as he sucked and licked at my clit. The stimulation was too much and I was hurdling toward a release.

"Az, I'm gonna—" My breath gets caught in my throat as he lays his tongue flat against my folds, his nose digging into my clit.

"I know baby, go ahead." Cold air fanned against my slick and my hands twined into his hair, forcing his face into my cunt as I ground my hips up onto his tongue, matching the thrusts of his fingers as that knot in the pit of my stomach tightened. He groaned at the feeling of me shoving his face into my heat, letting out a grunt as he ruts his hips down onto the bed, needing to be inside of me.

"Cum on my tongue." His voice was a demand, the kind of voice that made people fear him, the kind of voice that had me unraveling on his fingers, just like he ordered.

A string of moans escaped me, my head lolling back as euphoric waves crashed into me. He supported my hips since my legs were rendered useless from shaking too damned much. He gave gentle kitten licks to my now overstimulated cunt, allowing me to gently come down. He slowly lifted from between my thighs, slick coating his lips and he licked them clean, as if savoring the taste of me.

He brought his mouth to mine, allowing me to taste myself as I threw my arms around his neck carelessly, pulling his weight down onto me, needing to be entirely consumed by him as I sampled myself off his tongue.

“Fuck me Az,” I murmur.

“I won’t be able to control myself,” He shakes his head but I didn’t care, I needed more, needed his heavy cock sheathed inside of me.

“I don’t want control, I want you feral,” I beg and something primal sparks in his gaze, a slow smirk forming over his lips.

“On your stomach then,” He orders and my chest fills with both nerves and excitement as I do as he says, flipping over and hiking up onto my knees, my pussy throbbing in anticipation as I straddle my legs, my body forming a perfect crescent moon as I arched my ass up, arms supporting the rest of my body so I don’t fall into the pillows.

His hands come to my hips, dragging from my waist to my thighs, over the curve of my ass, then repeating. He was savoring the feel of me, the view I was so generously offering him.

The rustling behind me hinted that he had freed himself from his boxers and I was proven correct when his leaking tip pressed into my folds. I whimpered at the feel of his head running through the expanse of my pussy, pre-cum mixing with my arousal, the natural lubricant preparing him for his entrance.

He leans over me, his chest slick with sweat as his lips come beside my ear, pressing kisses to my shoulder. “You going to be good?” He hums and I nod with a whine. Shadows twine around my wrists, bounding them down onto the bed forcefully. “Three taps if it’s too much alright?” He says and I nod, closing my eyes in a slow blink, mentally preparing myself as he aligns his cock to my slit.

Slowly, he pushes himself in and I take every inch with a never-ending stream of euphoria. His movements started slow but he was right, he couldn’t control himself and his thrusts quickly turned impossible to keep up with.

A moan tore from my throat as he finally managed to stuff himself completely inside of me, his balls slapping against my sopping folds, the arousal dripping down my purple-marked thighs. “Az,” I mewl, throwing my head back as he continues his relentless pace, his thrusts rough and hungry and everything I had ever craved.

“M’yours, I’m all yours,” I sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the intense feeling of him nestled so deep inside of me. “That’s right, my perfect slut to ruin,” He grunts and my back bows into his chest at the words, making him hit me deeper. He curses and goes so much faster at the new angle, every other drive into me left a soft whimper slipping from his throat, his noises so quiet yet so close to my ear and allowing me to hear just how much I was affecting him.

I clamped down on his thick length, slowly grinding my hips down onto his, gradually growing quicker and meeting each of his thrusts.

If I thought he was savage on the training mats then he must’ve been untamable when pummeling every inch of him into my puffy pussy that pulsed at each movement.

“Gods, Azriel,” I scream his name, his pace relentless as my mind loses thought, becoming incoherent to anything but the way he shoved himself into me, past that bundle of nerves and kissing up against my cervix. A ring of my arousal formed on the base of his cock. “That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl,” He sighs, his breath fanning over the shell of my ear and making me squeeze around him, needy for more.

He loves the visual of me splayed out for him, swallowing his cock, hips clapping against mine each time he rams into me with an unmatched force, each of them landing perfectly on the tip of him grinding against the most sensitive part of me as I convulsed, my legs spreading wider as I sink lower, making his thrusts faster, harder. Tears roll down my cheeks as I continue to take it, taking all of him without hesitation. “Your perfect fucking pussy is so— fuck s’gripping me so tight,” He grinds out and I know from the underlying whine of his voice that he’s close, and thank gods for it cause I doubted I’d last another moment with my sanity.

“Az, please, please,” I cry, unable to say anything else as he continues to hit home every, single, time. “So full, Az,” I murmur, my head heavy with lust as he fucks me senseless. “Yeah? All you can think about is my cock, isn’t that right?” He purrs beside my ear and I nod fervently, agreeing to whatever he wants me to do, I just needed more.

Shadows listen to my silent request and brush down my stomach teasingly, feeling the way Azriel pumped into me so deep you could see him in my abdomen, the silky darkness curling downward and coming to my clit, making me gasp in ecstasy.

His fingers join his shadows, scooping through my folds and gathering my arousal before smearing it along my clit and then rubbing it harshly in tight little circles that left me defenseless. My entire body obeyed his touch as his ministrations continued. “Fuck, need to come Az, please,” I whine, feeling that coil tighten until it was bordering on snapping. “Come for me, wanna see you milk my cock,” He nips at my shoulder and thrusts forcefully inside of me, his head ramming into my cervix so very close to my womb, his fingers dig into my clit rougher, his calloused fingers providing so much more friction. Saliva pools in my mouth as my orgasm crests and I finally feel that immense relief I’ve been craving all morning. “I’m coming, m’comin—” I was cut off by a lewd moan, rapture surging up and down my body as I gush around his cock, white-hot pleasure consuming me.

I lay beneath him as I slowly come down from my climax but his movements don’t cease as I jolted in over stimulation, his shadows eased off my clit allowing relief but my pussy wasn’t given the same treatment, he continued to bury himself inside of me, harder, faster, deeper.

I whine, not daring to reject him like his perfect doll, clenching at the sheets as he ruts into my aching cunt. “Fill me up, Az, want your cum so bad,” I whimper and he smiles against my neck. “Yeah? Want me to fill this pussy up ‘til it’s leaking out? Stuff you full?” He asks and I mewl, lewd sounds rolling off my tongue without permission.

“Mhm,” I nod, writhing against the sheets at the intense feeling. I clench hard around him and he twitched, letting out a low grunt and without another warning, his warm seed released and spurted from his cock, into my cunt. He moaned, his sounds equally arousing as his movements inside of me. “You’re a fuckin’ angel, baby,” He pants, hands roaming along my waist as he slowly pulls himself from my slit, a whimper leaving my throat at the emptiness he left me with. He stares down at the apex of my thighs, where his cum seeped out of me, mixing with mine.

I flip onto my back and stare up at him panting with a drunken smile, my pussy throbbing as I come down from that stimulation.

I tremble as his fingers brush up my inner thighs, gathering any liquid that escaped me and then pushing them back into my cunt with ease. I gasped, my back arching, it was too much, it was all too much. And I loved every moment of it.

He lazily fingered my pussy, his languid movements making me babble in protest. “I know baby but we can’t let any of this go to waste, can we?” He hums and I shake my head no with a pout. “That’s right, m’ gonna fuck you all day, make you feel so good,” He said and my body tremors at the promise of his voice, and I knew immediately walking would be impossible tomorrow.

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[lilislegacy]

Okay, I’m so gonna get hate for this. And it will probably get about 4 notes. This is, by far, the most opinionated thing I have ever posted on here. If you can’t tolerate criticism towards Rick Riordan, the books, or the TV show, please keep scrolling. My goal is NOT to change your mind or start arguments.

I also want to preface this by saying that I love and respect Rick Riordan (even if I disagree with him on things and don’t like some of his choices) and fully acknowledge that he has the right to do whatever the hell he pleases with his own series. I also want to say that I love Annabeth Chase (both the book and tv show version) with my entire being and you will never find me being an Annabeth hater. She’s my girl.

We good? Okay cool. So here’s the thing: I’ve seen a lot of people on here saying things like “If you didn’t like the books, you just don’t know how to have fun,” and “The new book haters are just mad that they aren’t the target audience anymore,” and (my personal favorite) “Nothing in the books has changed, only the readers have.”

And while I see your points, and I respect you, allow me to show you something. Because of the 10 picture limit, I am only going to focus on one specific change: Annabeth’s view of Percy.

WOTTG: Annabeth is surprised to be comforted by Percy

Past Books: Percy is constantly comforting Annabeth

WOTTG: Annabeth is shocked when Percy is smart

Past Books: Annabeth often points out that Percy is intelligent

WOTTG: Annabeth thinks Percy can’t do anything on his own, and Rick communicates that Annabeth is always saving his ass

Past Books: Percy is ALWAYS watching her back, and saving her ass just as much (and Annabeth admits that)

I could put a hundred quotes in here. I could go on and on and on. But I can’t, and I won’t.

My problem with this new book is NOT that it is more goofy than serious. My problem is NOT that little things have changed. My problem is NOT that it’s just for fun. My problem is NOT that it’s much more childish. (And by the way, I’ve read PJO and HOO as an adult, so it’s not like I was a child when I read everything else and am now an adult reading the new ones.) I really did like and enjoy many parts of this book.

My problem is that the characters (especially Annabeth) have flat out changed—in bad ways—and we have no choice but to accept it as canon. My problem is that Rick, while trying to merge his books with his new TV show project, is changing the entire personalities and past behaviors/ tendencies of the characters.

I loved Chalice of the Gods. You know why? It was fun, goofy, and showed the characters that we know and love being happy and adorable. I strongly dislike Wrath of the Triple Godess because the characters—no matter how adorable and happy they might be—are no longer the ones we know and love.

My problem is that Rick Riordan fully admitted that he no longer considers the old book characters when he writes the new books. He is now purposefully incorporating his own personal mixture of the book characters and tv characters and writing those versions instead. Because of his desire to change and transform the series, I doubt he’s even read the original PJO or HOO books in years, which is why everything is so inconsistent. The old book characters—the ones who made the series what it was—are gone. And that is not my opinion. Rick fully admits that he doesn’t imagine them when he writes anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the tv show actors. I adore Walker and Leah and Aryan with my whole heart, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. But the fact is: they will never be exactly like the book characters. It’s impossible for actors to become the words on a page. They’re their own unique version! And likewise, you cannot turn actors into print. It doesn’t work! And why would you try? The books versions were perfect as they were. And the disney kids need to make the characters their own. The two versions can exist side by side, equally as wonderful, and still be gloriously different. We should celebrate the uniqueness of both. But instead, Rick is attempting to merge them into one. And in my opinion, it’s just hurting them both. And I’m gonna get real brave by saying this, but do you want my honest prediction? If he keeps doing what he’s doing now, the TV show is going to get cancelled and the books are going to turn into a joke. I so, so badly hope that this doesn’t happen! I have loved Rick and PJO for many, many years. I badly want both to thrive. But what is going on right now… it is not working, no matter how much we all want it to. And speaking as someone who knows people in the TV/Film industry, I am sadly not the only one who thinks the show is gonna flop. Which is devastating, because Rick Riordan deserves a redemption on the big screen, and the incredible actors deserve to bring this series to life in a new way.

I am not trying to force my opinions onto anybody. You are welcome to disagree with me and move on. I am not saying that I’m right and you’re wrong. If you disagree, that’s okay. If you agree but you don’t have a problem with it, that’s okay. In fact if other people have literally no issues, that makes me somewhat happy. And if you loved the book, I’m honestly so stoked for you. Feel free to just keep on scrolling, my friend.

But me? I’m sad. I’m really, really freaking sad. And I’m a little angry too, even if I don’t have a right to be. I can’t help it because I’m only human. But this is how I—and a lot of other people—feel. And you know what? That’s okay too. Because the fact of the matter is:

Annabeth isn’t the same Annabeth anymore. And Percy isn’t the same Percy anymore. And it’s not because they went through trauma, or because time has passed. It’s because Rick Riordan doesn’t have any interest in writing those versions of them anymore. And I think the comparisons between the old and the new show that fact pretty clearly.

[see-arcane]

Our good friend Jonathan Harker is getting ready to leave for his business trip, Mina Murray is picking out a new journal, Lucy Westenra is charming a gaggle of smitten suitors, Abraham van Helsing is wrapping up his lectures, and Castle Dracula is prepping the guest room for a very long stay.

Which must mean that Dracula Season is here again!

 ‘Dracula Season’ being a catchall term for the voracious reading, memeing, writing, illustrating, analyzing, and general fun-having that’s ensued since Matt Kirkland’s project, Dracula Daily, caught on with us back in 2022. The Substack had already been running before then, but it sparked a conflagration as time went on and readers old and new to Bram Stoker’s Dracula—the actual novel, not Coppola’s fanfiction—devoured it in a way that scratched an itch none of us knew we had. Stoker wrote the book in epistolary fashion, clumping sections together as needed for the pacing without perfect adherence to chronological order. Matt went ahead and put all the events in order and proceeded to set up a lovely chain of emails that delivered entries on those correlating dates.

This style of organization and pacing turned out to not only make the virtual book club that much easier to engage with, but left space in-between to stew on the story and relate with the characters themselves. Every day of waiting in the book feels weightier when you have to pace and sweat and worry in tandem with poor Jonathan trapped in the castle or Lucy wasting away or Mina running out the clock before she loses the fight for her own humanity. And while we sat with the story or the lulls between Dracula Seasons, some of us found ourselves craving more of that ghastly gothic horror goodness to the point that we figured:

“Well. Why don’t I make something?”

And then we did! Tons of creative works have been churned out in the wake of Dracula Daily’s high. I figured that while we’ve still got a bit of time to wait for May 3rd, we should check out all this new stuff in the meantime. (Plus a handful of neat stuff that just clicks with the Dracula itch overall.)

So, in the interest of Dracula Season pregaming, let’s take a look at…

FICTION

Blood of My Blood – A recent addition to the Dracula Bad Ending AU pile, and definitely one of the most harrowing and addictive group-produced narratives I’ve ever come across, Blood of My Blood is the dramatically gothic currently-WIP work of @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush’s devious design. Give or take a heap of other fascinated folks (hello!) adding ideas to put more Horror into the Horrors that our cast has to face. The premise:

The Transylvanian climax went fatally sour and the Harkers were forced to shelter with Dracula himself, including their half-vampire son, Quincey. Cut to two decades later, and Quincey finds himself out in modern London, smitten with Lu, adopted daughter of Arthur and Jack, and diving into certain bloodstained old documents that detail the real history of how his parents came to live in the castle. Said revelations coming not a moment too soon, as a storm is coming for him straight from the Carpathians…

Dracula Daily Sketch Collection – An array of illustrations that captures every entry beat by beat, the Dracula Daily Sketch Collection by Georgia Cook, alias @georgiacooked was dished out over the course of the last Dracula Season. Some of the most fun character designs out there.

Fanfiction Spotlight: BlueCatWriter – With a whopping 99 works devoted to the novel Dracula (so far, the number may have gone up since I blinked), @bluecatwriter is one of the most prolific and talented fanfiction scribblers out there. Romances, nightmares, and overlaps between the two seem to crop up the most, give or take a crossover. Seems fitting that those blue paw prints have contributed to BoMB too.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk – An ongoing comic in which all your favorite characters from the Classics section get together and tackle some perils ranging from the mundane to the monstrous. Started by the amazing @mayhemchicken and posted on @lxgentlefolkcomic, this series is a love letter to beloved Victorian era lit, with a spotlight on the two couples leading the League. Namely, the Harkers, ala Dracula, and the Nortons, ala Sherlock Holmes,’ “A Scandal in Bohemia.” Mina and Irene are the driving investigative and steering forces here, and still deeply in love with their likewise-infatuated husbands, just like in their canons! What a concept! Alan.

Without spoiling the full character list, just know there are going to be a ton of familiar faces roaming around before you finish reading the first arc. Said arc having conveniently wrapped up just a few days ago! Give the comic and its bonus silliness a look if you’re in the mood for a new comfort-adventure epic.

Re: Dracula – Probably the most well-known and incredible thing to come out of the initial Dracula Daily wave. This podcast is a full audio drama that follows the same format as the Substack, with episodes coming out in time with the entries themselves. And it has an unfairly cool soundtrack. They have a Tumblr with @re-dracula, a site and a Patreon to check out before the series kicks up again on May 3rd. (Also, keep an eye out for their next work, an audio drama in the same style with Carmilla.)

The Soldier and the Solicitor – Another treat from @ibrithir-was-here, this one involves a bit of time travel trouble. Quincey Harker has stumbled out of World War I and into the same dark forest where his father once fled for his life…then runs into the man himself, on that same night. Jonathan Harker, young and starved and lost, who has no choice but to trust this stranger while the Weird Sisters are at his heels…despite said stranger having no shadow. It’s a tasty emotional trek, already complete on Tumblr, but now it’s turning into a Webtoon. While Ibrithir is juggling a number of other stories, she’ll be redrawing spruced up versions of the comic and adding a few new scenes as things unfold.

Substack Stack – You know what’s better than one emailed-out public domain book club? A mountain of them. Just. So, so many of them. You’ll see that a lot of these are finished, but some are still ticking along. Either way, they’re all great picks if you’re craving some more old school lit to fill the void between undead emails.

Frankenstein Weekly – Frankenstein

Jekyll and Hyde Weekly – The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Voyage of the Nautilus – Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Letters from Watson – Sherlock Holmes

The Invisible Mail – The Invisible Man

Letters from Bunny – E.W. Hornung’s short stories of the eponymous Bunny and Raffles

Letters Regarding Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster short stories, including the novel, Right Ho, Jeeves

…

……

………

…The Beetle Weekly – The Beetle (NOTE: Do Not Read This.)

The Vampyres – A novella I finally wrenched through the gears of self-publication as of March this year. Starring a petite but powerful paranormal cast, The Vampyres, centers on an unscrupulous undead fellow who finds that the revenants of the world are being mowed down by an entity known only as ‘Quinn Morse.’ Between trying to save his neck and figure out where the shadowy bastard came from, the Vampyre in question crosses paths with a new paramour and handy human shield in the form of a grieving Good Samaritan. He’s even polite enough to invite the Vampyre into his home while he’s in dire straits! Surely this will end well. All the info is available here and a little author site is over here.

What Manner of Man – This is the one made for everyone who started out hoping there’d be a real love story with our good friend Jonathan Harker and the Count when he was at his most charismatic. Where that sea of wonders dried up into a mire of horror, What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling keeps things firmly on the romantic tracks. This Substack stars the letter-writing priest Father Victor E. Ardelian as he finds himself meeting with one enigmatic Lord Alistair Vane. It isn’t long before interest turns into intrigue and intrigue into undead intimacies.

The entire novel has been completed—along with multiple epilogues in the author’s Patreon, allowing readers to choose for themselves just how the uncanny romance plays out in the end—and the Substack now has a number of other gothic goodies piling up in the meantime.  

NONFICTION

Dracula Daily: A Unique Reading Experience: This one comes courtesy of @realwomenofgaming. It’s a short and sweet piece that amounts to a fun snapshot of the entire Dracula Daily ride. A cozy couple-minute read.

‘Dracula Daily’ is the One Substack You Need a Subscription To: Features my favorite Matt Kirkland interview. @mattkirkland, if you’re still floating around on here, thank you for dispatching our vampire newsletter again this year.

Dracula Daily is Tumblr’s hottest new book club: Alright, the ���new’ part is worn out by now, but this one is still a delightful article to swing back around to. Two years on, this Polygon piece is a time capsule of those early months when people outside our bookworm bubble realized we were all happily receiving letters from our favorite classic gothic horror blorbos.  

“How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” – Princess Weekes, if you ever read this, thank you, thank you, thank you. I am sending oceans of love and millions of rewatches to your video essay. If you haven’t seen it yet, “How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” is one of the most refreshing and well-made breakdowns of both the title subject and numerous other issues that have proliferated in the public view of Dracula’s cast and plot as adaptations endlessly warp or outright bastardize the actual novel. An incredibly cathartic watch.  

Literary play gone viral: delight, intertextuality, and challenges to normative interpretations through the digital serialization of Dracula: A mouthful of a title for an even more elaborate article about the Dracula Daily phenomenon. This one is a full-on study that analyzes just what happened within the big bloodsucker book club surge and how its ‘wandering reading practices’ enriched the experience for participants.

 “The Undying Undead: An analysis of the Dracula Daily community for a theory of online community formation and interaction” – We have a thesis on here! Look at that! @sirangelothebestest’s MA thesis used our vampiric book club as the bones for a massive brick of an academic piece that definitely deserves a look.

…And I think I’ll go ahead and cap things here.

This isn’t everything I got recommended, but if I had squashed all of it in here, I think folks’ eyes would start to fall out of their head. I hope you can find something cool to comb through here. Or, if there’s something great I overlooked, tack it onto the list! We’ve got just two weeks to go until we’re off with Mr. Harker. Let’s enjoy our respite before those castle doors close behind us.

[deaconusdelirium]

ᰔᩚ Older bf!Simon indulging his kid at heart

-

Simon never really minded the fact that his childhood was stripped from him, it happened, it’s over, what can he do about it? Nothing. Best move on to more important things. He thinks about it, but it no longer effects him. He’s human, so at some point he’s going to watch a kid play to their hearts content like it was a foreign thing to him

Simon who raises a brow at every little thing you do when he finally starts to love you. Watching you stare at the toy section a little too long before picking out a coloring book and even longer at the crayon section. The basket in the crook of his elbow as he crossed his arms.

“What’s the difference, luvie? They all color the same” he huffed quietly, earning a soft glare in return. “Oh hush, they’re not the same. See? These ones are pastels, these ones have glitter, this one has forty colors-” you go on as he rolls his eyes and stares off down the aisle. His attention immediately being brought back as you all of a sudden stop. Then he seen what you were eyeing. The colored pencils. He looked at them and then at you before sighing and walking over. Grabbing them and show them to you. “What’s the deal with this one?” He asks, trying to find the difference yet again between the crayons and then pencils. You step forward and then smile almost sadly. “I’ve never really had colored pencils, always seen them but my parents told me they’d go in the trash one way or another” you replied. He didn’t even think twice before putting them in the basket

Simon who watches you later on that night color in the first page that stands out to you. Seeing you color outside the lines but never really seeming to mind. “Inside the lines, darlin” he mumbled as he laid in bed. One arm propping him up as you laughed softly, “oh hush, leave me alone. I like it” you smiled, “you like it messy?” He asked, “well… when you put it that way it sounds sloppy. But everyone always got mad that I colored outside the lines. Found being too perfect was always boring and never really fun. But I like this” you leaned back, looking at the paper as he nodded. Picking up a pencil and then gave a small scribble to the paper.

Simon who finds comfort in walking beside you down a sidewalk. At first he was confused, one second you both were walking and the next he was yanked back, “what’s wrong?” He looked around for any sign of trouble, then looked down at you, realizing you were counting your steps in the large rectangles in the concrete. “I stepped four steps in the last block, if I take another step, this one will be five” you muttered. Deciding not to question it, he picked you up, setting you in the next block and started walking along side you again. Now every time you walk together, he counts how many steps you take in each one, stopping and waiting for you if you need to jump a little or if you mess up your numbers, “you’re at three, luv”

Simon who pretty much never questions anything you do anymore, you want something? He’ll get it for you. Even if it’s a little bottle of bubbles, he’ll grab an extra bottle just so that if you ever run out, you’ll have another. He won’t admit it, but likes seeing which bubble will last the longest before popping

Simon who goes shopping with you and helps you pick out a stuffed animal, which turns into stuffed animals. “Oh- look at this one Si, this one’s a seal” you picked up a chunky looking stuffed animal. Giving a squish before holding it out to Simon, who gives a squish and then takes it into his large calloused hands. Scrunching it a few times and lays his head on it, then nods. Looking at the others, “look at this one, babe, it’s a shrimp” he chuckles, picking it up and showing you. A smile blossoming on your face as you grab it. You both going home with stuffed animals of your own, who later get turned into cuddle buddies. Sedrick the Shrimp and Samuel the Seal

Simon who will bring you your favorite lunch with a nice drink on the side to your work. Walking in pass the reception desk and into your office, seeing that you’re on a call, he holds your food so he can personally give it to you as he walks around the place. Mindlessly playing with a few little trinkets you got lying around. He puts the bag of food between his chest and arm, the drink in his hand while his other squeezes the chicken stress ball. Giving a small chuckle as its eyes pop out with every squeeze. Then he finds another little toy. A crane of sort that has a string attached to the tip that’s holding a ring at the end. A small hook on the beam as he tries to get the ring onto the hook. Giving a quiet “yes” as he finally gets it. Then hands your food over with a kiss when you’re done

Simon who stays up with you one night, not having to worry about waking up early for work. So he has you get up, telling you he’s hungry and that he wants to get something to eat. Then when you tell him you have to get ready. He protests, pulling your hand and tells you that he’s not going out to impress anyone and that he’d rather you be comfortable than walking around fully dressed with your clothes you wanted to wear tomorrow, just to get fast food. Tells you that he feels better when you feel good. Both of you don’t have to worry about the burdens of adult life that early morning

Simon who goes to the Lego section with you- well, more like he drags you to the Lego aisle. Telling you that he likes this one he seen a few days ago. Pretends to look for it when he made it up as an excuse so you two could actually look for something to build together. “Look at this one love, it’s a picture frame” he holds up a box, showing you. “I like that one, but I also like this camera one” you also hold up the box, he looks between the two. Eyes darting to the side before something catches his eye. “Baby, look. These are bracelets, you put little legos on them”. He immediately grabs the box, dropping them all into the cart, not even minding the price it’ll come out to. “We should look at the friendship bracelets” he buys you the bracelets anyways, going home and building the legos together, putting a Polaroid of you two beneath the camera one. Putting a picture in the picture frame one, and you both wearing the lego bracelets

Simon who picks out baby clothes, not boring bland pink or blue ones. No, those are too cliche, no, he wants something that will make those beautiful eyes he knows your little baby have, pop out. Even if he has to special order a few clothes and blankets, he’ll do it. Little onesies that have pictures of Sedrick and Samuel that were obviously custom made by the best and most liked shop.

Simon who signs your little one up for whatever their heart desires. They want to try soccer? He’s going to buy them a small goal and a ball so they can practice in the backyard of your home. They see an event coming into town and they want to go? He’s more than willing to take them. They want money for a book fair? He knows the teachers are assholes so he waits until they get home so he can go back with them. Helping them pick out whatever their little heart wants. Erasers, book marks, little toys, it’s all theirs. They want extra cuddles for the heck of it? He’s bringing you down with the two of them.

Simon who ends up healing his childhood through you and his kid. Even if he was a little embarrassed about it all in the beginning, he realized that he’d rather make memories than skip them being shy and hurting you and your kids’ feelings.

(He totally has his own stash of toys and his own coloring books he’s accumulated over the years he’s known you. He even has his own blankets with hero’s and stuffed animals of his own) ᰔᩚ

-

not really proof read, but you get the idea. Just had this in my head for a bit

[munson-blurbs]

Emperor Geta x Concubine!Reader

Summary: The emperor catches you in the library, going against his direct orders, and there is a price to pay for your disobedience.

WC: 1.2k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, degradation, mention of spit, breeding kink if you squint, jealousy, Geta is horrible but we like it.

A/N: "Augustus" is the term that a concubine would use to address the emperor. Thank you to my favorite history nerds, @lokis-army-77 and @offensiunculae, for their help in ensuring accuracy.

Divider credit to @saradika

“What are you doing in here?”

The sharp voice drew you from your reading. You tried closing the book and hiding it beneath the marble table, but you knew you’d already been caught. There was no safe place to lay your gaze. If you looked at him, he would yell at you for daring to look an emperor in the eyes; if you looked away, he would berate you for your cowardice.

You chose the latter option, heart catching in your throat as Geta’s footsteps drew closer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for the gala?”

“I–” You steadied yourself, hoping your words didn’t fall apart before they could even leave your tongue. “All of the preparations are finished, Augustus.”

That was the wrong answer. You should have excused yourself and found another task, if only to keep busy. His fingers, free from the calluses that marred the hands of gladiators, gripped your chin with a possessive force.

“Look at me when I speak to you, concubine,” Geta snapped. His dark eyes radiated flames that scorched you with a single look. “You know you are not to be here. Ever. You are to stay in your quarters until you’re summoned.”

You nodded, humiliation heating your body. “My apologies.” 

Geta ignored you and yanked the book from your grasp, turning the pages with careless abandon. He never cared for reading, or for education; why would he, when power was handed to him upon a silver platter? 

“What purpose does this serve you, concubine? Are you so dissatisfied here that you need to lose yourself in other worlds?”

“No, Augustus.” The lie was too fast, and you knew he caught it, in spite of his remarkable ability to only focus on his own needs.

The emperor’s smile was wicked. “After all I’ve provided for you,” he purred, “you can’t even offer me the truth?”

Tears stung in your eyes; a sob lodged in your throat rendering you unable to speak. It was no matter for Geta, who insisted upon capturing your words for you. “It’s her, isn’t it?” A chuckle emanated from his diaphragm. “You had me all to yourself for some time, and now you have to share my affections.” His thumb brushed your chin again; this time, you could have sworn there was an ounce of compassion in his touch.

“Yes, Augustus.”

Geta tossed the book aside. “And so your solution was to directly defy my orders? Is that how you sought my attention?” He leaned in so his forehead pressed against yours. “This library is off-limits for concubines.”

“So I’m meant to sit around and wait for you to summon me?” The retort could have earned you a smack to the face, and you braced yourself for the impact. 

Yet it never came.

Instead, Geta’s smirk deepened, his hand enclosing your wrist. “That is exactly what you are meant to do,” he growled. “You are nothing more than a common whore, and yet you are audacious enough to expect the treatment of a wife.”

“That is not what I–”

“Tell me what you believe you deserve.” His words clipped yours. “To be adored? Revered? Worshiped?” The last suggestion drew a heinous laugh. “You want me whispering in your ear, making remarks of your beauty and the desires you stir within me?”

Honesty mingled with shame as the tears slipped down your cheeks. 

“Say it.”

“Yes!” Embarrassment strangled your confirmation. “I want you to myself. I want us to share a marriage bed. I want you to tell me that you need me.”

One tooth scraped over his lower lip. “That’s what I thought.”

A gasp escaped you as he tugged you closer, nose grazing yours. If you lacked the knowledge of prior experiences, you might have anticipated a kiss. 

“Bend over the table.”

You did as he ordered, bracing your forearms on the cool marble. Geta gripped the hem of your tunic, pushing it above the curve of your ass. His palm hit your flesh with enough force to bruise; though you couldn’t see his face, you knew your yelp brought to it a smile. 

“This is all you’re good for.” He fumbled with his own garments, hissing as his erection made contact with the air. You heard him spit on his cock, rubbing the saliva over the shaft. “And you know it, too. You may fill your head with these inane writings, but you know you simply want to be filled with me.”

His words sent lust rippling through you, amplified only by the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. You felt yourself stretch around him, his wanton moan the only betrayal of his dominance. 

One hand grabbed your waist and the other wrapped around your neck, squeezing as he yanked you closer. 

“Is this what you’ve been brooding over?” He delivered another swift spank when you whimpered your yes. “You’re so pathetic, resigning yourself to an object. My object.”

You clenched around him at the identifier. His object. No matter that he was not yours. You were his, at least in this moment. 

Geta rocked himself with pounding thrusts that sent his pelvis colliding into your rear. “Say that you’re pathetic. That you’re weak for me. That you would do anything for my seed.”

You found your voice in time to comply. “I’m pathetic, Augustus. I’m weak for you. I would do anything for your seed.”

He laughed at this. “I could do anything I wanted and you would let me, so long as I attend to you.”

“Anything you wanted,” you echoed. Your climax was building; just a few more moments until it shrouded you in pure pleasure. “Anything for you.”

“How utterly pitiful.” Grunts punctuated his taunt. “I might be inclined to feel sorry for you if I possessed that capacity.” He withdrew until just his tip was inside you and promptly slammed back in. Empty, so horribly empty, and then deliciously full.

Geta’s groans echoed throughout the library, growing louder as his own orgasm neared. “Take it, take it all, my little whore.”

He spilled into you with harsh, sloppy thrusts. The hand around your throat restricted your airflow to its minimum; you ached to cry out his name, even his title. He only loosened his grip once he was completely spent.

He held you in place as he caught his breath, carefully pulling out so the evidence of his release stayed within you. “Ready yourself for the gala,” he said tersely. “I will send for you when the time arrives.”

“Yes, Augustus.” You moved to leave, but your insecurities hooked their talons into you and drew you back. “Does she also get your seed?” His other concubine. The other woman he kept around to bring him pleasure.

Confusion marred Geta’s smug expression for a second, but he quickly composed himself. “She hasn’t earned it.”

You nodded, trying not to let pride swell your head. She hasn’t earned it, but you have. “Thank you, Augustus.”

His acknowledgment was an unintelligible grumble, but you could have sworn he let his gaze linger for a beat longer than he had before.

--

Tagging some people who might be interested:

@happilyeverafterforme @daisy-munson @strawbbzombwie @mrsjellymunson @eddiesxangel

[verstappen-cult]

OBSESSED, M. VERSTAPPEN.

✶ SUMMARY. You’ve always been a little bit obsessed with your boyfriend. Especially with his thighs.

Or, 2 times Max catches you looking at his thighs + 1 time you do something about it.

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. max’s thighs. blowjobs. biting. pegging. english is not my first language.

GWEN RAMBLES — this was requested a while ago and just now had the inspo and the time to write it. i’m sorry to the person who asked for this but also big thanks because i’ve also been obsessed with max’s thighs ever since i saw pics of him in those tiny shorts. hopefully we’ll get to see more of that during this summer break. prayer circle, my house at 10pm. 🤞🏼

#1

It’s a very hot summer day and you’re spending it out at sea on Max’s yacht with some of your friends.

And Max is wearing the shortest shorts ever known to man, while also parading himself around the yacht with a gin and tonic in hand.

He’s drunk. You see it in the way he laughs at Daniel’s joke, overly excited and almost doubling down in a hysterical laugh – Max always laughs at whatever comes out of Daniel’s mouth, but when he’s drunk it’s definitely worse – and how he has to grab onto the railing to keep his balance.

His glass is empty, so he excuses himself to go pour some more of his favorite drink. But then he sees you watching him and a big smile breaks out on his face.

“Hey, baby.” He says plopping down next to you, the couch is so comfy that you’ve find yourself dozing off a few times. But the heat has made it impossible for you to catch your sleep. “What are you doing here all alone, pretty girl?”

Oh, yes. He also likes to call you all the petnames in the world when he’s drunk.

You scoff, brushing a strand of hair out of his sweaty forehead. “Jus’ watching you flirt with Daniel.”

“I was not!” He moves away, crossing his arms over his chest like a scolded child.

It is in that exact moment that your gaze is drawn to his legs. His shorts have gone up a little too much, revealing the pale skin of his thick thighs.

Your mouth waters at the sight.

Images of those thighs wrapped around your waist as you fu—

“What you looking at?” Max’s tone is teasing, a smirk dancing on his lips. He knows exactly what you’re looking at.

Your eyes snap up to his, heat going up your chest all the way to your face.

“Oh, shut up.” You bite back, forcing yourself to look away. You raise your own glass of gin and tonic to your lips just to have something to do.

Max keeps on looking at you, you can feel his blue eyes boring holes in the side of your face.

Eventually, he stands up. Right in front of you, so you have no other option than to look at him.

"See something you like?" He asks, chewing on his bottom lip.

You're about to open your mouth to say something witty when he just simply turns around and goes back to the rest of the group.

If your eyes remained fixed on his ass, nobody needs to know that.

#2

Max is training on the terrace. It's a chilly day in Monaco, so he decided to skip going to the gym and, instead, to do his daily training at home.

On one side it's good because he just got back from Italy and you've missed him. You want to spend as much time as you can with him before he needs to travel to the next country.

But on the other side, it’s torture.

You were enjoying a really good book you picked up last week, an orange juice by your side on the lounge chair when he decided it was a good idea to start training mere feet away from you in those stupid shorts of his.

Now you’re trying to make out the words in the page as he sits at the other side of the terrace, legs spread and feet planted on the floor as he does some lifting. His hair is long, so a few strands of hair fall over his eyes.

Your gaze is set in the way the muscle of his thigh tenses as he lifts the weights, then relaxing again while a groan falls from his lips. He repeats the action again. And again.

By the fourth time, you feel overwhelmed and short of breath.

"You've been reading the same page for a while now. Is it that good?" There's a glint of amusement in his eyes and a smirk gracing his lips.

"Uh?" You ask dumbly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

All the blood in your body flows to your face as thoughts of feeling his thighs tensing under your hands while doing something completely different flood your mind.

"You can at least pretend," He snorts, setting the weights aside.

Max grabs a towel to wipe the sweat off his face, his other hand brushing through his hair.

He's so unfairly hot.

You need to cool down. You need to do something.

+1

You successfully avoided your boyfriend the rest of the morning, deciding instead to go to your room to actually read the book. Being as far away as possible from him is what you needed. It’s not fair he looks so good lifting weights.

That was until Max came into the room announcing he was going to take a shower. You didn’t even raised your head, you just kept reading.

But then he emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing more than his boxers.

If you were having a hard time with his shorts before, it is so much worse now. You don’t even know how he put them on, his thighs are one second away from ripping them into pieces.

“Stop ogling me.” He’s drying his hair with a towel, drops of water falling down his naked chest.

You pout, leaving your book aside. You know you will not be reading any more pages today, not while he’s standing there like a sweet waiting to be devoured. “It’s not my fault you have such huge thighs.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“Don’t be like that,” You get out of bed, walking to him. “I know you like it when I thirst over you.”

“Yes. Because I love being perceived as nothing more than a sex symbol.” Max takes one of his hundreds Red Bull shirts out of the closet, but before he has time to put it on, you throw it across the room.

Max’s complaint dies in his throat when he sees the hunger in your eyes.

“Admit that you like it.” You plant your hands on his chest, pushing him backwards until his back is against the wall.

The towel falls from his hands and he swallows with a barely perceptible nod of his head.

You shake your head, grabbing a pillow from the bed and throwing it in front of him. “No, I want you to say it.” You maintain eye contact as you fall down on your knees, it’s almost funny the way his eyes widen.

His jaw goes slack when he feels your hands on the waistband of his underwear.

“Yes,” He sighs, closing his eyes tightly. “I like it.”

You coo, placing a hand over your heart. “See?” You feign pitying him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Max whines when you finally pull his boxers down, his already growing cock springing free.

“I don’t know,” He breathes out, looking down at you. “what you like about my thighs so much.”

You have to laugh, a finger moving up and down his left thigh. “What do you mean? Haven’t you look at how,” You grab his thighs, fingers sinking into the muscled flesh. “thick they are? You have no idea how much I want to bite them.”

“Do it.” The words are out of his mouth before he has time to think about it. Not that he doesn’t want you to do it, it’s that if he thinks too much about it he might lose his mind.

You look into his eyes, so blue and deep as the sea, before looking at what you have right in front of you.

The object of your most recent fantasies.

Max takes a sharp intake of breath as you lean in, but instead of immediately biting into the flesh, you run your tongue from the bottom all the way to the top, stopping right before you reach his pelvis. His cock twitching at having your mouth so close.

"Think of how pretty these would look with my teeth marks." Max groans, fisting his hands by his sides. "You should definitely use those tiny shorts now to show everyone what you let me do."

Max can't say anything, his mind going fuzzy at the edges already. He feels like his whole body is on fire.

You keep running your tongue over his left thigh, occasionally sucking a mark. Only when you're pleased with your work, you move to the other one.

"Plea—" A moan gets ripped from his throat when you sink your teeth into his thigh, your hand brushing against his cock. The second time you do it, Max thrust his hips up at nothing.

"So fucking perfect." You moan seeing the final result. "I can't believe you're letting me mark you."

Max is about to reply when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

"Oh, fuck!"

With the help of your hand you start stroking what doesn't fit in your mouth, the taste and how big it feels against your tongue making you moan.

Max tangles his fingers in your hair. His vision going blurry as you twirl your tongue around the tip of his cock and, without warning, taking as much as you can in your mouth until your nose touches his pelvis. You have to stop yourself for a few seconds to breathe through your nose, before pulling back until only the head is in your mouth. Slowly, and lifting your gaze up to his, you start bobbing up and down, hollowing your cheeks.

Max's moans and pants fill the room, mixing with the slurping sounds of your mouth and tongue working on his shaft.

You drag your teeth along the sides of his cock, and Max hisses in response. "Fuck, do it again." And you do it, pulling an obscene sound from him.

When Max looks down, he finds the hand that's not on his thigh, feeling the muscles tensing under it, between your legs, moving in circles against your clit.

Max thrusts his hips up, not being able to hold back, and immediately regrets it when he hears you cough. But then you’re pull off him, a grin on your face as you wipe the saliva with the back of your hand.

"Do it again."

That's the only thing you say before taking him deeper into your throat.

Max pulls lightly on your scalp, and you moan around him. It makes him do it again as he start thrusting his hips into your mouth, the gagging sounds almost enough to send him over the edge.

"Fuck, look at you. So pretty with your mouth full of my cock."

You moan and squeeze his thighs, hearing his breathing get more ragged lets you know how close he is to his release.

So, you pull off him.

Max groans at not feeling the warmth of your mouth around him anymore. He was so close to spilling down you throat.

"On the bed." Your throat is sore and are in need of a glass of water. But it can wait.

It takes him a moment to process your words, but then he's moving and climbing into the bed.

You stand up, your knees hurting despite having the pillow underneath, and open the special drawer you two have in the closet.

Max's gasps makes you chuckle.

You take out Max's favorite harness and one of your favorite dildos. It's a little smaller than Max's huge cock. Just a little bit.

You leave it by Max's side as you climb on top of him. "Spread your legs." He does it, getting comfortable against the pillows. "More." You help him by bending his right knee, feet planted on the mattress.

You take your sweatpants and underwear off, before leaning over to grab some lube from the nightstand.

Max's blue eyes glaze over. You straddle his left thigh, a soft moan falls from your mouth when your cunt makes contact with his skin, and he flexes his thigh.

"You—," He groans, tilting his head back against the pillows. "You're already soaking my thigh." He says in a gasp, his hand finding your hip and helping you move against him. "Got turned on by sucking my cock, uh?" He teases you and all you can do is nod, at a loss of words, your clit dragging against his muscled thigh making you whimper.

You're overwhelmed by the pleasure, only able to moan his name over and over, and over again. Your eyelids fluttering shut when you grind just right against him.

But you have a plan, so without pausing the drag of your pussy, you grab the lube, popping the cap and coating two fingers.

Max looks intently as you warm your fingers before guiding them to where he needs you the most. He instinctively spreads his legs some more, giving you enough space.

Your cling onto Max's arm on your hip to keep moving against his thigh as you slip your index finger into the tight heat of Max's hole.

Max moans loudly. He doesn't know where to look, if at you bouncing on his thigh or at where your finger disappears inside of him.

"More," He grits his teeth on a whimper, closing his eyes for a second. "Please."

And who are you to say no? You slide your finger all the way in, pumping slowly until you have him moaning for more; so you add a second finger, scissoring them to open him up.

Your legs begin to shake, forcing Max to help you by tensing his muscles which makes it easier to grind against him. The angle is a little weird, but neither of you seem to care.

Max's hips thrust up to meet your fingers, which are now hitting his prostate on every stroke. He's out of breath, pre-cum pooling on his lower belly, and throws his head back, clenching around your fingers.

Seeing him so desperate only spurs you on.

Your climax takes you by surprise. White-hot pleasure erupts behind your eyelids with a broken moan. His name, Max, Max, Max echoing in the room. Head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

It takes you a moment to go back to yourself and when you do, Max has a desperate look on his face, jaw slack and eyebrows furrowed.

"You're so unfairly hot." Finally letting him know your thoughts from earlier. "You okay, baby?" You ask, teasingly. Moving your fingers slowly, staring intently down at his face.

"More." He cries out.

"You're doing so good for me, Max." You praise him, fucking your fingers in harder, making him moan louder. You love to make him moan like this.

When Max starts babbling, you know he's getting close. So, you pull your fingers out. He's shivers slightly, feeling desperate at being so close to his orgasm again but not being able to reach for it.

While Max is busy trying to control his breathing, you grab the harness to lube up the toy.

Max groans desperately when he feels you between his spread legs, the head of the dildo sliding easily into his hole.

You stare intently down at him and he grabs your hips to help you slide all the way in until your hips are pressed up against his ass. You place your hands on his thighs, and he immediately wraps them around your waist with enough force to keep you still, not letting you move.

You stare into each other's eyes, and then you're meeting halfway in a hungry and messy kiss. You feel like you can't breathe and need him to survive, and for the way he licks into your mouth you know he feels the same.

When you pull away, he nods at you to continue. You grip his hips, setting a brutal pace that has him groaning and fisting the sheets.

Max whines and squeezes his eyes shut, feeling you so deep it’s almost sucking the air out of him.

"Does it feel good?" You pant, fucking harder. The slapping of your skin against his so obscene it makes your cunt clench around nothing.

It's good, it's incredible even. But he needs more, he needs—

"I want to ride you."

Your brain buzzes, his words echoing in your head. "Yeah?" You slow down, biting your lip when you find his eyes, blue completely swallowed by black.

He helps you pull out and sit against the headboard, and you can't tear your eyes away from his bruised thighs, the love bites and teeth marked a reminder of your obsession with that specific part of him.

Max pushes himself up on his knees and straddles you, hovering over your cock. He maintains eye contact as he wraps his hands around it and slowly lowers himself.

His thighs clench as he feels the tip breaching his ring of muscles. It feels tighter, even though you've been inside of him moments ago. He manages to sink down completely, hissing at feeling so full.

"Just—give me a second." He whispers, one of his hands holding onto your shoulder.

Max lifts himself up, your cock almost slipping out, only the tip still inside, before letting himself fall down. He keeps that rhythm for a few minutes, adjusting to the feeling of you inside of him.

When he starts bouncing on your cock with a little more force, you start to thrust your hips up to meet him, ripping moan after moan from his throat.

"You feel so, shit, so good." He sighs, leaning in to connect your lips.

You moan into each other's mouths, your cock hitting that particular spot inside of him.

Max breaks the kiss and places his hands on your legs behind him, bracing himself as he rolls his hips, the new angle making his mind shut down completely.

"Good boy," You praise him, gaze flicking from his leaking cock to his bruised thighs clenching every time he pushes himself up. "Taking my cock so well. Look at you, so pretty."

You know you hit his prostate when he sobs, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

His movements become sloppy, his thighs clenching with more force as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm.

A few more thrust with your fingers digging into his hips, and he's shooting a huge load of his cum across his stomach and even chest. He sees stars behind his eyes, his climax so intense he feels like passing out. He keeps on riding you through his orgasm, letting his head fall forward against your forehead. He only stops when starts to feel overstimulated.

Both of you stay silent for a few moments, trying to catch your breath. Only when Max feels like he's not going to pass out, he opens his eyes to see you already looking at him, a soft smile on your lips.

He kisses you softly. "So, what about my thighs? Really, I need to know because it's a little weird."

You huff, rolling your eyes. "It's not weird."

Max laughs, cupping your cheek. "Of course not."

"It is not!" You say indignantly, your thumbs drawing patterns on his hips. "It's like you being obsessed with my tits. I don't tell you it's weird."

"I have teeth marks all over my thighs. I won't be able to wear shorts for weeks."

"I didn't hear you complaining when I was on my knees." You shrug as Max gests comfortable on top of you, the toy still sitting inside of him.

"Shut up, you weirdo." He jokes.

"You love me."

He looks at you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. "I do."

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Dare Ya

Summary: Spencer and Penelope are roommates, you get a dare during girls night that changes your relationship with Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, mild crime description, sneaking into beds

Word count: 3.6k

a/n: this is so silly & cute ,, i saw someone say they love penelope and spencer being best friends and i can't disagree hehe

main masterlist

After surviving a terrifying attack outside her apartment, Penelope Garcia can’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that now shadows her every step. Seeking solace, she reluctantly accepts Spencer Reid's offer to move in with him, hoping his quiet, protective presence will help her regain a sense of safety. 

—

Penelope was sprawled out on the couch, her colorful blanket draped over her as she scrolled through the latest memes on her tablet. Spencer walked in, holding two mugs of steaming tea, carefully balancing them as he made his way to the coffee table.

"Okay, Penelope, I’ve got your chamomile, extra honey, just the way you like it," Spencer announced with a proud smile, handing her the mug.

Penelope’s eyes lit up as she accepted the tea. "Spencer, you’re an absolute gem! What would I do without you?"

Spencer sat down beside her, taking a sip of his own tea before replying, "Probably starve, considering your idea of dinner is three packets of Pop Rocks and a diet soda."

Penelope gasped dramatically, clutching her heart. "I’ll have you know that’s gourmet snacking in some cultures!"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Well, in this apartment, it’s all about balanced meals and—"

"—and daily doses of nerdy lectures from my favorite genius!" Penelope finished his sentence, her grin widening.

"Exactly," Spencer agreed with a chuckle. "Besides, you’re the only person who appreciates my random facts at 2 AM."

Penelope nudged him playfully with her elbow. "Of course! And who else is going to let me blast show tunes at full volume while I reorganize your books by color?"

Spencer’s eyes widened in mock horror. "Wait, you wouldn’t dare…"

Penelope leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, sweetie, it’s already done."

He stared at her for a moment, then sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

"And you’re lucky I love you," Penelope shot back, lifting her mug in a toast.

Spencer clinked his mug against hers. "Best roommates ever."

"Forever and always," Penelope agreed, smiling warmly at him.

—

“Reid, don’t forget I’m having the girls over tonight,” Penelope reminded him as she flitted around the kitchen, her excitement palpable.

“Girls' night, I know,” Spencer replied with a small smile, glancing over at the calendar on the wall where Penelope had circled the date in bright pink marker. “You wrote it on the calendar.”

Penelope paused, turning to face him with a hopeful look. “Are you going to join us this time? It’s going to be fun! We’re talking snacks, gossip, and maybe even some scandalous games…”

Spencer chuckled, already making his way toward his room with a book tucked under his arm. “I’ll pass, thank you,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. 

Penelope pouted playfully, but she couldn’t hide her grin. “One day, Dr. Reid, you’ll see the light and join us!”

“Maybe,” Spencer called back with a laugh, already imagining the lively scene that would soon fill the apartment. For now, though, he was content to let the girls enjoy their night.

Penelope Garcia loves hosting her infamous girls' nights with the BAU ladies, filling her and Reid's apartment with laughter, drinks, and the latest gossip. Spencer, ever the accommodating roommate, doesn’t mind the occasional takeover—he’s more than happy to retreat to his books. What he didn’t anticipate, though, is you always showing up in your cozy pajamas, looking irresistibly adorable and sending his heart into a tailspin. As the nights unfold with playful games and shared secrets, Spencer finds himself leaving his room more and more often, struggling to keep his cool amidst the lively chaos.

—

The apartment is buzzing with energy as you, Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit in a cozy circle on the living room floor, surrounded by empty wine bottles, snack wrappers, and the remnants of your laughter-filled evening. The air is thick with friendship, and after a few rounds of lighthearted gossip, the group decides to spice things up with a classic game of truth or dare.

Penelope leans forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay, truth or dare?” she asks, her voice full of playful challenge.

Feeling the warmth of the wine and the comfort of your friends, you giggle. “Dare, obviously,” you say confidently, knowing full well that Penelope won’t go easy on you.

The girls exchange conspiratorial glances, their eyes practically twinkling with mischief. Emily is the first to speak up, grinning as she leans closer. “We dare you to… climb into Spencer’s bed while he’s sleeping.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, your cheeks flushing at the thought. “Wait, what?!” you whisper, a mixture of shock and excitement bubbling up inside you. The mere idea of being that close to him, even in such a silly, innocent context, makes your heart race.

JJ nods enthusiastically, her smile widening. “Come on! You’ve been crushing on him forever. It’s the perfect opportunity to get a little closer,” she teases, nudging your shoulder playfully.

Penelope claps her hands together, her excitement barely contained. “Think of it as a harmless prank! He’ll never know, and it’ll be our little secret,” she adds with a wink.

You bite your lip, your mind racing. The thought of sneaking into Spencer’s room, tiptoeing over to his bed, and slipping under the covers while he sleeps soundly is both terrifying and thrilling. But the encouraging looks from your friends, coupled with the wine-induced confidence, push you to make a decision.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it,” you finally agree, your voice a little shaky but determined. The girls let out a collective squeal of delight, stifling their laughter as they quickly urge you toward Spencer’s bedroom.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you carefully open the door to his room, the soft creak of the hinges sounding far too loud in the quiet of the night. Spencer is fast asleep, his face peaceful in the dim light filtering through the curtains. His glasses are on the nightstand, and a book lies open beside him, his fingers still loosely resting on the pages.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you slowly approach the bed, your steps light and cautious. You glance back at the doorway, where the girls are peeking in, holding their breaths in anticipation. Gathering every ounce of courage, you carefully lift the blanket and slide into the bed beside Spencer, your movements as gentle as possible.

As you carefully slide under the covers beside Spencer, you’re acutely aware of every sound, every movement, your heart hammering in your chest. You had been fully prepared to stay for only a few seconds before making your escape, but the moment you settle in, something unexpected happens—Spencer, in his sleep, rolls over and instinctively drapes an arm around you.

You freeze, eyes wide in shock, as you feel his warmth envelop you. His face nuzzles into your shoulder, his breath soft and steady against your neck. Your initial reaction is to panic, to jump out of the bed before things get any more complicated, but the sensation of his embrace is so comforting, so natural, that you can’t bring yourself to move.

Instead, you find yourself relaxing into him, letting out a breath. Spencer’s grip tightens slightly as if seeking out your warmth in his sleep, and your heart melts at the sweet, innocent way he snuggles closer.

From the doorway, the girls are watching with wide eyes, trying desperately to suppress their giggles. Penelope claps a hand over her mouth, stifling a squeal of excitement, while Emily and JJ exchange looks of pure amusement, both of them barely containing their laughter.

You turn your head slightly, giving them a pleading look to stay quiet, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. There’s something about the way Spencer holds you, even in his unconscious state, that makes you feel safe, cherished, and you can’t bring yourself to disrupt the moment.

As the minutes tick by, the warmth of Spencer’s embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing begin to lull you into a state of calm. You know you should slip out, return to the girls, and let them finish their game, but instead, you find yourself growing drowsy, the fatigue of the night catching up with you.

Before you know it, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift off to sleep, nestled comfortably in Spencer’s arms.

Back in the living room, the girls exchange glances, their excitement bubbling over. Penelope, always the ringleader, whispers with a grin, "Looks like she’s spending the night there. Mission accomplished, ladies."

Emily chuckles softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "She’s really going for it, huh?"

JJ giggles, still trying to keep her voice low. "I think we just made Spencer’s dreams come true—literally!"

The girls continue to snicker and whisper amongst themselves, marveling at how perfectly the dare has played out. They decide to let you enjoy your impromptu cuddle session, knowing that this is one girls’ night that will go down in history.

—

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, gently stirring you awake. For a moment, you were wrapped in the cozy haze of sleep, feeling an unfamiliar warmth around you. As your eyes blinked open, reality came rushing back, and your heart dropped into your stomach—Spencer was still there, his arm draped across you, his face just inches from yours.

Panic set in as you realized exactly where you were and what had happened last night. Before you could gather your thoughts, Spencer stirred beside you, his brow furrowing in confusion as he slowly woke up. His eyes fluttered open, and the moment he saw you lying there, his expression shifted from sleepy contentment to utter shock.

“Wha—what’s going on?!” Spencer exclaimed, his voice a mix of confusion and panic as he scrambled back, pulling the blanket up as if it could somehow explain the situation.

You bolted upright, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Spencer, I—I can explain!” you stammered, trying desperately to find the right words. But the sight of his wide, bewildered eyes only made your heart race faster.

“Why were you…? How did you…?” Spencer was clearly struggling to make sense of it all, his mind racing as he tried to connect the dots.

You cringed, feeling mortified beyond belief. “It was just… it was a dare,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Penelope, Emily, and JJ—they dared me to sneak into your bed while you were sleeping. I swear, it was just a silly prank. I didn’t mean to—” You broke off, feeling the heat of humiliation crawl up your neck.

Spencer’s eyes widened even more, if that were possible. “A dare? You climbed into my bed because of a dare?” He sounded incredulous, his voice cracking slightly.

You nodded, biting your lip and wishing the ground would just swallow you whole. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I didn’t think—I didn’t realize you’d… snuggle up to me like that.” Your voice trailed off, the words sounding as ridiculous out loud as they did in your head.

Spencer’s face turned a shade of red you didn’t think was possible, his mind clearly reeling as he processed what you had just told him. “I—I didn’t know. I must have been dreaming or something. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know you were there!” He was stumbling over his words, just as flustered as you were.

The awkwardness in the room was suffocating, and you could feel your heart pounding in your ears. The last thing you wanted was for Spencer to think you were some kind of creep. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, but no coherent words formed. The embarrassment was too overwhelming.

“I should go,” you finally managed to squeak out, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you scrambled out of the bed, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste. You bolted for the door, your face burning with shame.

Spencer started to say something, but you didn’t stop to listen. You couldn’t—every fiber of your being was screaming at you to get out of there as fast as possible. You could hear the girls' giggles in the living room as you rushed past them, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t bear to face them, not after what had just happened.

The moment you were out of the apartment, you leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath, your heart still pounding. You had never been so embarrassed in your life. The whole thing had backfired spectacularly, and now you had no idea how you were ever going to face Spencer again.

Inside the apartment, Spencer was left sitting on the bed, staring at the door where you had just fled. His mind was still trying to process everything that had just happened, his cheeks still burning. He had never been so confused, or so flustered, in his entire life.

—

After the chaotic morning had settled down and the girls had finally left, the apartment grew quiet. Spencer was still in a bit of a daze from the unexpected events that had unfolded earlier. He moved around the kitchen mechanically, setting up breakfast while his thoughts churned. 

“So, boy wonder,” Penelope began, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table as Spencer placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her. “Care to share what’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

Spencer sighed, sitting down across from her with his own plate, though he wasn’t sure he had much of an appetite. “I’m just… confused, I guess,” he admitted, poking at his eggs with his fork. “About everything that happened this morning.”

Penelope nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, it was definitely one for the books,” she agreed. “But I think there’s more to it than just a silly dare, isn’t there?”

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t know. It’s just—when I woke up and saw her there, I was… shocked, obviously. But then, after she explained, I just couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have her there, so close. And now, I feel like I completely scared her off.”

Penelope’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “Spencer, I think you’re missing the bigger picture here,” she said gently. “Do you like her?”

Spencer looked up at Penelope, a bit startled by the direct question. His cheeks flushed slightly as he considered it. “I mean, yeah, I do,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “She’s smart, funny, and… she makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. But I never thought she’d be interested in me like that.”

Penelope’s smile widened, her heart warming at the sight of her friend finally acknowledging his feelings. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Doctor,” she said with a playful wink. “The reason we dared her to climb into your bed wasn’t just for fun. It was because we’ve all noticed how she looks at you, how she gets all flustered when you’re around. She’s been crushing on you hard, Spencer. We thought a little nudge might help her break the ice.”

Spencer blinked, the revelation sinking in. “She… she likes me?” he asked, surprise and hope flickering in his eyes.

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, she’s got it bad for you,” she confirmed. “But she’s also shy and probably feels like she’s not on your level. That’s why she freaked out this morning—she’s likely mortified because she thinks she messed everything up.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, processing Penelope’s words. It was almost too much to take in at once, but the more he thought about it, the more everything made sense. The way you always seemed a little nervous around him, the way you’d light up when he shared random facts or when you’d bump into each other in the hallway. And now, the fact that you’d been daring enough to go along with something as bold as sneaking into his bed—it all pointed to one thing: you had feelings for him, just as he had for you.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Spencer said softly, a small smile beginning to form on his lips. “But now that I know… what do I do?”

Penelope reached across the table, placing a hand on his arm. “You talk to her, Spencer. You let her know how you feel, that you’re not upset about what happened. She’s probably freaking out right now, thinking she ruined everything. But you can turn this around, make it something good.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of determination growing within him. “You’re right,” he said, his voice gaining confidence. “I need to talk to her. I don’t want her to think I’m upset or that she did something wrong.”

Penelope beamed at him, giving his arm a supportive squeeze. “That’s the spirit! You’ve got this, Spencer. Just be your sweet, nerdy self, and everything will fall into place.”

—

Monday morning rolled around, and the usual bustle of the BAU was in full swing. The team was busy reviewing files, catching up on paperwork, and getting ready for whatever case might come their way. But Spencer Reid had something else on his mind—something far more nerve-wracking than profiling criminals.

With a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small, carefully wrapped box from your favorite bakery in the other, Spencer made his way to your desk. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anticipation and anxiety as he approached. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over, but now that the moment was here, his nerves threatened to get the better of him.

You were focused on your work, completely unaware of the flurry of emotions heading your way. But when you sensed someone standing in front of your desk, you looked up, and your breath caught in your throat.

Spencer stood there, looking slightly nervous but determined, holding out the bouquet of flowers—a beautiful blend of your favorite blooms, carefully chosen with Penelope’s help. Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart skipping a beat.

“Hi,” Spencer said softly, his voice a little shaky but warm. “I, um… I got these for you.”

You stared at the flowers, then at Spencer, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. “Spencer… what’s all this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I wanted to apologize for how things went on Saturday. I know it was a little… unconventional, but after thinking about it, I realized I shouldn’t have let you leave feeling so embarrassed.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, both touched and confused. “You don’t have to apologize, Spencer. I was the one who—”

He gently cut you off, holding up the box from the bakery. “And I also got you this. I know it’s your favorite,” he added, offering the box with a small, hopeful smile.

You hesitated for a moment before accepting the box, your fingers brushing against his as you did. The gesture made your heart flutter. “Thank you,” you said softly, feeling a mixture of emotions welling up inside you.

Spencer shifted slightly, looking down at the flowers before meeting your eyes again. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what Penelope said, about how sometimes we all need a little push to see what’s right in front of us.” His gaze was earnest, his voice steady as he continued. “And I’ve realized that I don’t want to miss out on what could be something really great.”

Your breath caught as his words sank in, your heart beating faster as hope began to bloom within you.

“So,” Spencer continued, a small but sincere smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Maybe we can start over, without the dares, and just… see where things go?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity there. The embarrassment from the weekend melted away, replaced by a growing sense of excitement. You glanced at the flowers and the pastry, your favorite treats carefully chosen just for you, and felt a smile spread across your face.

“I’d love that, Spencer,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth.

Spencer’s smile widened, relief and happiness evident on his face. “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. “And thank you for the flowers—and the pastry. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Spencer said softly. “You’re worth it.”

Your smile grew even brighter, and you couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at his words. “Well, in that case, I guess I’m going to have to say yes.”

Spencer’s face lit up with joy and relief, and he let out a breath he was holding. “Great,” he said, his voice full of quiet excitement. “How about dinner tonight?”

“That sounds perfect,” you replied, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

As Spencer walked away to return to his desk, a spring in his step, you couldn’t help but glance down at the flowers and the pastry. The weekend’s awkwardness seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the sweet possibility of something new and delicious.

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[marthawrites]

Between the Covers

Modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part two to Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

About: During a cozy night in at your place, Aemond discovers your new taste for “literature”. Upon confronting you about it he makes a deal. Part of you wants to say no… but, you ultimately agree to his terms.

Includes: Established relationship, fluff, teasing, banter, and smut featuring breast play (reader is implied to have sensitive breasts), minor vampire play, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, Aemond loses his mind at the mention of blood sucking, dirty talk, vaginal sex, and reader and Aemond say 'I love you'

Note: Hello lovely reader! This might be ooc for Aemond but it's ic for the Aemond in my heart! My heart and pussy wrote this so if you have a problem with it up take it up with them!! Reader is non-descript! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic ♥

Autumn turned to winter, then winter to spring, and things with you and Aemond were better than ever. According to Aegon the two of you were “disgustingly cute”, and Helaena, on more than one occasion, admitted how she’d never seen her little brother so happy. 

Alys, despite her best efforts, had been fully removed from the picture after the last big fight that had you and Aemond taking a long self-reflecting break. 

Perhaps the universe really did do you a favor by making you face an ugly side of yourself–jealousy, distrustfulness, suspicion. Was it fun to look at in the eyes? No. Absolutely not. But, it made you realize things about yourself which ultimately lead you and Aemond to give the relationship another chance: a real honest chance. 

He too was far from perfect and had his own baggage and scores to settle. But at the end of the day you two were fucking wild for each other. And that’s all that mattered.

While your third floor apartment wasn’t anything compared to the sprawling Targaryen estate, it was cozy and located in one of the nicer neighborhoods in King’s Landing. Any city had its slums and dark underbellies, but thankfully you didn’t have to deal with either of those. Inwardly you were convinced that if you did live in one of those shady places that Aemond would swoop you away to his own private quarter in his family’s mansion. The idea of moving in together had been hinted at a couple times and each time your belly–and heart–did flips. One day, sure, maybe. But, now? You hadn’t even been together for a year yet. Moving in together was a huge commitment.

Perhaps something to consider for your three-year plan. 

Or, one-year plan.

You both had a free day tomorrow, so Aemond took advantage of it and stayed the night. After dinner you took a shower and he waited in your bedroom, searching for something to watch. 

There were so many choices. Why was there always so many choices? It made it such a challenge to actually decide on something!

When you came out with damp hair and your favorite pajamas–a big shirt and cute underwear–you proclaimed, “I saw an A24 movie last night I think we’d both like!”

He looked over at you from where he lay lounging on your bed in black sweats and a white tee, barely contained amusement plastered on his face. “As much as I love those, I’m less interested in movies now that I’ve found this,” he said, holding up the latest book you’ve been reading. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Did you forget to put it back on your shelf? Warmth flooded your face. “Baela was talking about it and she talked it up so much I had to check it out!” You admitted a little too quickly, hiding an embarrassed smile behind a hand.

“Uh-huh,” he smirked. “Vampire smut? If you’re so bored by The Two Towers all you had to do was say something.”

Your eyes–no, your whole face–brightened with shared amusement. “What! No, it’s not smut. There’s plot!” You said defensively (perhaps not convincingly, though, with the giggle), as you hopped on the bed and straddled him. His slim hips fit so easily between your bare, soft thighs, it was almost criminal. Mischief sent his eye twinkling. You took the book from him and cleared your throat, preparing to read the synopsis on the back. “Listen, ‘kay? This explains it really well.”

“Already read the back,” he said, sly. “And comments on goodreads. Seems to be extremely popular with women. There were… lots of caps, exclamation points, sweaty face and fire emojis… rave reviews.” Sometimes when he smiled–really smiled–he had little dimples; they were out on full display, now. He ran his wide, warm palms up your thighs, thumbs skimming dangerously close to that delicate space between your thighs he loved so, so fucking much. “Do you want to know what my favorite part is though?” He asked as if it were a secret.

Goosebumps tickled your skin as he teased you. You didn’t bother to put a bra on and you suddenly became acutely aware of your t-shirt’s texture as your sensitive nipples tightened beneath it. How easily your body reacted to his. “What’s your favorite part?”

He took the book from you and opened it. Smirking, he read Baela’s note she left for you on a post-it sticky, his voice an octave or two higher: “‘chapter 32 might be the hottest thing I’ve ever read in a book. It will change your life.’” He peered up at you with an arched brow. “Have you got to chapter 32 yet?”

You were blushing and giggling and trying so hard to not rip the book from his hands and smother his taunting face with one of your many pillows. “Oh my gosh shut up you are terrible!”

He laughed. “You’re the one reading vampire smut!”

“There’s plot!”

Aemond flexed beneath you and the next thing you knew you were on your back beneath him. His long silver-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and it hung over his shoulder threatening to tickle your face. “My pretty girl still hasn’t answered me,” he said as he pinned you down, lowering to nip your earlobe. “Or will I have to use compulsion to get it out of you, hm?”

You felt his grin against your neck, heard it in his question, and before you could stop yourself a little moan escaped your mouth because he bit you. Really bit you. His teeth, clean and sharp, clamped around a mouthful of your neck. He drew it into his mouth, sucking, and–fuck it was hot–you then understood why women in silly vampire books gave in so easily to the predator. You knew your pulse had to be jumping right there in the flesh he held between his teeth. All those giggles from before vanished and were replaced with small gasps. You squeezed your hands over his shirt-covered shoulders, answering, “n-no… I haven’t read that far yet.”

He relaxed his mouth and licked up the same bit of skin he’d been biting, kissing it softly. “Good,” he replied. “You can read it out loud to me now.”

That perked you right up. “Oh my god Aem! No!” 

“But I’m sooo curious to know what happens when she goes inside the castle. I skimmed the last chapter you were on. Something about him loving the smell of her blood, barely able to control himself around her, and she’s stuck there with him now?”

You were laughing again. “You’re such an ass!”

“Those are very important plot points,” he said smoothly, matter-of-factly. “And it’s chapter 31. So all the tension will lead up to the famous chapter 32.” He kissed you as he spoke; your mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone, whatever he could reach.

You were still laughing, but his kisses relaxed you, too. You pushed your hands up beneath the front of his shirt and gently scraped your fingernails over his abdomen. His chest. You felt his muscles quiver slightly beneath your touch. You loved how his body reacted to you. While stroking between the patch of hair at the center of his chest, and the trail of hair below his navel, you asked, sheepishly, “what if I get embarrassed?”

It was his turn to perk up. Pulling back, he looked down at you with a mixture of deviousness and softness that had your heart flipping. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Why am I have scared to hear this deal? But… okay, let’s hear it,” you replied, smiling and biting your lip.

“As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep eating your pussy.”

Yet another wave of heat rushed to your face and along your spine. You really, really hoped Aemond couldn’t see the blush of your features. Knowing him, however, he probably did… or at least saw the spark of desire, excitement, and embarrassment in your eyes. “You really wanna hear me read this stupid book?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I wanna eat you too. So, why not both?”

“Well, when you put it that way…,” you mumbled in agreement, grabbing your book and opening to where you last left off.

Aemond shuffled triumphantly and smiled one of those smiles that if he did indeed have fangs they’d certainly be showing. He kissed your throat as he pushed the bottom of your shirt up, grazing his fingertips along your belly as he did so, not stopping until the softness of your breasts melted against his palms. Squeezing the sensitive mounds, he gave your neck one last little nip before lowering to your bared tits. He made a noise in his throat at the sight of them–your pretty nipples peaked with need–and he held each in a hand. Looking up at you he asked, "how long do you think you’ll last reading?” He squished your tits together so your nipples were as close together as they could be. Hot mouth wrapped around one and he sucked, greedily drawing it into his mouth. He relished the sensation as well as your gasp of surprise. He relaxed his mouth and let your tit free only to repeat the motion to the other one.

Fuck. He’d barely started, you hadn’t even begun reading, and you already felt warm tension pull in your belly. Your breasts have always been sensitive. Sometimes when you were feeling especially needy, and Aemond especially wicked, he’d suck your tits until you came. Part of you wondered if he meant to do that now with how he lavished them. “Shit–Aem! Not long if you keep this up…!” You moaned, biting your lip again as your eyelids trembled closed. “Haven’t even let me start yet..!”

A laugh rumbled in his chest. “You’re right…,” he said, slowly circling his tongue around and between your nipples. “Go ahead and start reading then, baby. I’ll get nice and comfortable between these thighs.” 

True to his word, he did. Your boyfriend meant to murder you. Without a fucking doubt. Straight up murder.

With a shuddering breath you began to read aloud.

Aemond kissed over your covered pussy, not yet bothering to move your underwear aside or take them off. He wasn’t trying to be especially distracting yet, but he loved knowing you were wet and eager for him. He kissed the insides of your thighs–that impossibly soft dip where your thigh met your pelvis–and even the underswell of your asscheeks as your legs spilled open. He knew right where your clit was. He licked over it through your panties. Teasing. Coaxing. Hoping to hear your voice warble with want.

It did. There was no way you’d be able to keep this up for the rest of the chapter as well as the next chapter. The main female character, a human, had just re-dressed into something suitable for dinner. In this case, a gown that complimented the color of her skin and shape of her body. And the main male character, a vampire, was waiting for her to finish. Before this, the tension had indeed been all over the place. Blood, desire, lust, everything sinful about the undying charisma of vampires. At the end of the chapter she walked downstairs only to make him utterly darken with lust. And, at the end of the chapter, Aemond pulled the front of your panties aside to finally give the full length of your pussy a hot, slow lick. You gasped in time with the main female character’s gasp.

“Think he sinks his teeth into her pretty neck and finally takes what he wants?” Aemond asked, low and somewhat muffled, as he turned his gaze up to your heated face.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You half thought he was joking about the whole thing! But… then again, you knew Aemond pretty damn well by now and knew he wasn’t the prankster type. You moaned softly at the slow, wonderful feeling of his tongue on your clit. Then, you answered in a shaky breath, “it’s the temptation. He worships her. Or… at least her blood. He won’t tear her apart. He needs her.”

He made one of his classic little ‘mmm’s in thought. “Keep reading, baby. I’m dying to see what happens.” Another lick, another kiss to your most sensitive bud, and a gentle suck. 

Fuck–if he kept this up?! Pleasure rippled up your body in goosebumps and your voice shook as you read into the new chapter.

Somehow the book tension intensified even further. Between that, and how Aemond continued to slowly eat you, your head felt dizzy. Really, honest to God, you didn’t know how much more you could take. Then, the next line started to crumble some of that tension: “The vampire lord kissed the top of the lady’s hand, and when he did his fingers grazed the delicate webbing of veins on the underside of her wrist. Her scent bloomed beneath him. A perfume. His jaw ached with the need to consume. To consume her.”

Aemond picked up pace, too, as did your pulse. He balanced you on the edge of bliss and wouldn’t yet let you go. 

You began to stammer over words. You even left some unfinished. Because now you read a scene that was strikingly similar to your current situation. The vampire had his lady laid back and sprawled on the staircase, her skirts bunched high, his starved tongue feasting between her thighs.

Aemond groaned appreciatively. He worked you higher and higher, selfishly making it harder for you to read out loud, and savored each and every little dip and rise of your voice. His good girl. So fun, and playful, and willing to entertain his silly ideas. God, he loved you. He memorized all the signs of orgasm in your body. He could hear them. Feel them. He knew you were getting close, but he didn’t want you to come yet. There was still more to be read. Right before climax could claim you, he stopped.

“Aemond!” You squealed, near breathless. You looked down at him, accusatory, blissful eyes glaring. “Not fair!”

“Did I forget to mention I’ll only let you come when I want you to? Sorry, love, my bad.”

“How convenient of you,” you retorted.

“Do keep going though? I have a feeling he’ll need a taste of her blood now that he’s tasted her cunt.”

Begrudgingly, you did. And, as luck would have it… (did he read ahead while you were in the shower!?): “The vampire lord’s cock strained in his breeches, throbbing with a pulsing need that sent his mind to delirium. He never craved anything so badly as he did her.”

Aemond made more of those ‘mmm’s in agreement as he started to slowly work you up again. He pressed his tongue into you and let his nose rub against your clit. His hands rubbed and squeezed over any part of your body he could. Waist, belly, hips, thighs, anything; he loved all of it. He could lay here and do this all fucking night–vampire smut or no.

It became harder and harder to keep reading. Between little moans, whimpers, and firm bites to your lip, you kept trying. By now, the chapter progressed to both of them in various stages of undress on the staircase. “The vampire lord claimed her body with his hot, rigid manhood. At the same time he filled her with his cock, he sunk his teeth into her neck.”

After that you were no longer able to make words. A finger replaced Aemond’s tongue as his mouth lavished your clit. You dropped the book and neither of you seemed to care anymore. One of your hands gripped into his hair–more than likely making the sleek pull back of his ponytail a mess–while your other hand played with your breasts. Seemingly effortlessly, a second finger joined the first and your hips rolled in a desperate need for more. “A-ah yes!”

A soft dark laugh rumbled from him as he watched you from below. “You’re so fucking wet your pussy just sucked my finger in. I barely had to move it. Getting close again, my love?” He asked as those two deft, long fingers worked your inner walls with blinding precision. “I love how you were blushing and fumbling with your words when you read. Fuck–you’re so pretty with my fingers in you.”

A familiar tightness began to build in your legs. The inside of your thighs started to tremble. Your head, fuzzy as it already was, buzzed with your body’s anticipation. Pleasure. So much pleasure. Your fingers tweaked your nipples for that extra little push, and apparently that’s exactly what you needed.

Aemond’s tongue was on your clit again, quick and light compared to the harsh way he fingerfucked you. This time he didn’t edge you along.

Orgasm, beautiful and consuming, swallowed you into a starless dark. When you came back to yourself your head was heavy. The tips of your fingers tingled. Everything felt light. Like you weren’t quite inside your own body yet. “What the fuck Aems…,” you whispered, smiling like a dork.

That was one of the best orgasms and he fucking knew it. He had to know it. 

He carefully rolled away from you to let you catch your breath. “Better than the book?”

“Without question.”

He grinned as he watched you regain yourself. Once he was sure you were okay he pulled you on top of his naked form. When did he take his clothes off? “Always so sweet to me,” he said with that same grin. “I can still taste you on my tongue and need to feel you on my cock. Now.”

You didn't need to be told twice. Your body was ready for him as soon as he moved you atop him. He looked so good, so handsome, so devastatingly perfect as he sat there against your headboard, your bodies meshing together so well. His lean arms wrapped around you, nails scratching down your back, as you lined up with him.

The stretch was unfuckingbelievable. 

Moaning in unison, he rolled his hips up into you with one hand gripped on your waist. Your breasts squished against the firm planes of his. Your scent, your skin, your lust all around him. The squeeze of your cunt around his entire length had him half crazy. There wouldn't be any more teasing. 

You ground onto him, desperate to fuck him as silly as he had fingered you. 

One of his hands gripped the hair at the back of your head and tugged downwards, exposing the fullness of your throat to him. Your neck. He bit you again–all but sinking his teeth into your flesh–and fucked up into you with added fervor. 

“God!” You squeaked, whimpering through your surprise. “Yes, yes, yes, keep biting me..!” You pleaded, bouncing on him in time with his upward rolls.

That's how you both stayed–his teeth on your neck, your fingernails leaving pink scratches on his pale skin, grinding and fucking each other with raw desire–until climax washed over both of you.

You were both panting, a little sweaty, and intoxicated by each other.

A couple minutes later, amidst pillow talk and teasing one another, Aemond asked, “would you read more to me another time?”

You looked at him cheekily. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m very interested in the plot,” he said with obvious innuendo. “And I don’t think you quite understand what you saying words like ‘cock’ ‘cunt’ and ‘blood sucking’ does to me.”

That sent you into another fit of giggles. “You’re insane!”

He rolled on top of you and smirked down at you. “Well?” He asked, grazing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Okay, okay. Yeah, I will.”

Pulling the blankets up around your bodies, you turned on the movie you mentioned earlier. Aemond laid on his back and scooped you against him, legs immediately intertwining with one another. Sated. Happy; even as your skin pleasantly burned where he left dark hickies behind.

“Thanks for that. It was a lot of fun,” he whispered against the crown of your head.

“Yeah it was,” you agreed. “I love you, Aem.”

“I love you too.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

See comment section for my main taglist and Aemond taglist! To be added or removed from either, please hit me up!

[marypaol]

Say You Won’t Let Go

Harry James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Harry wants to stay with her till they’re gray and old… as long as she doesn’t let go.

Warnings: Kissing? Talk of future? I think that’s it! <3

Note: In Harry’s POV yet it’s third person. I hope that makes sense to y’all. :)

Note #2: Based on the song “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur. Not the whole song though. (Some lyrics)

Between each lyric- time skip. Lyrics in italics! :)

Masterlist

Requests closed at the moment

Also started another blog! @honeychamomile1

I pulled you closer to my chest. And you asked me to stay over, I said, “I already told ya, I think that you should get some rest.”

“I’m so tired.” She grumbled. Her body squirmed under the blankets as she tried to seek a comfortable position.

“I know.” Harry chuckled in response, his fingers traveling along the skin of her arm as he kissed her temple.

She hummed, her eyes once closed but when he responded she fluttered them open, eyes sparkling at the sight of him.

“You’re so pretty, Harry.” She laughed out, hand coming up to stroke his cheek, then reaching up to adjust his glasses.

She pulled him forward with her arm around his neck, digging her face into it, and he thanked Merlin she couldn’t see his red face then. He pulled her closer to his chest, arm wrapped around her back as she was once now flushed against him.

“You should stay the night.” She whispered, snuggling herself deeper into him as she kissed the skin of his neck.

He squirmed at the feeling, the tickle sensation spreading from the area she was kissing to his toes. He sighed once she stopped, having to stop the giggles that were threatening to leave his mouth.

He leaned back, taking his arm out from behind her back so she wouldn’t crush it and stroked her hair out of her face as he looked at her.

“I already told you,” he sighed. “you should get some rest.”

She groaned at his reminder, hands reaching up to ruffle his already messed up hair. She was gonna be honest, there wasn’t a time she saw it neat. That that she was complaining, his feisty hair was one of her favorite things about him.

She then pouted when her eyes met his. He chuckled at her stubbornness, shaking his head at her.

“Don’t look at me like that, I have to go back to Ron.” He reminded with a teasing warning look.

“I was hoping you would stay when I gave you the puppy eyes.” She said, putting the show on again. He shook his head once again as an answer.

She pouted deeper, her eyes dropping before she gained composure again to hide the fact she was tired.

“Rude.” She muttered, dropping her hands from his hair.

He laughed on how cute she looked, kissing her pout away with a soft kiss to the lips.

When you looked over your shoulder

For a minute I forget that I’m older

I wanna dance with you right now

Oh, and you look as beautiful as ever

And I swear that everyday you’ll get better

You make me feel this way somehow

Harry could hear the shuffling from the seat next to him, his lover not seeming to be finding a satisfactory position to sit in while doing their work.

“I don’t know what to write!” She exclaimed, dropping her quill as she made movements in the air with her hands in exasperation.

Harry shrugged, peeking at the page number she was on in her textbook and turning to it in his own. The two were doing their Divination homework, Professor Trelawney wanting them to see how the next month for them will go.

“I’m about done with taking this seriously,” she started, shaking her head.

“You’ve been thinking I’ve been?” Harry added, but she continued, ignoring his comment.

“I’m making it up.” She decided, grabbing her quill and looking at her book, humming as she found a potential imaginary scenario that will most likely not happen anyways.

“I’ll….lose a bet….?” She suggested, still looking at her book.

Harry nods before realizing she’s not looking at him.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he replies. “Um…and I’ll…be unlucky for one week.”

She grinned at him. “Mine’s more believable.”

He scoffed. “My book doesn’t have any good ones!” He said as an excuse.

She laughed. “We have the same book!”

“Whatever-get me a different Divination book in the library, will ya?”

She rolled her eyes but got up nonetheless, searching the shelves for something better for the boy. Even though the book she was using was just fine.

She heard him close the book he was previously using and looked over her shoulder at him.

Harry just so happened to be already looking at her, and forgot everything he was thinking about moments prior. He forgot he was a year older since his birthday was in the summer, forgot that his mind should be focused on school work. His brain was occupied with thoughts on how beautiful she looked at the moment. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of him looking flustered just by looking at her, his bright green eyes something she easily got lost in.

He suddenly had the urge to get up and dance with her right in the middle of the library, despite his lack of dancing skills. He wanted to embrace her as a way to claim her his, despite the fact she already was.

Everyday she seemed to get more beautiful, more breathtaking, and more gorgeous.

Even after she chuckled at his act, turning away with thoughts all about him, a soft fuzzy feeling flooded Harry, making him feel all warm inside.

His fingertips became tingly, itching to touch her face her hair her everything. She just left him and he already longed for her to come back.

She did just that a couple minutes later, laying a book down for him as they exchanged smiles.

I'm so in love with you

And I hope you know

Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold

We've come so far, my dear

Look how we've grown

And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go

Just say you won't let go

“Say you won’t let go.”

The sentence made her head come up from his chest, her fingers halting their movements on his hand.

She looked at him and laughed halfheartedly. “What?”

He was serious when she looked at him, and so her small smile dropped suddenly at his serious mood switch.

“Say you won’t let go.” Harry repeated.

“You know I won’t, Harry.” She whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek, the smooth skin soft beneath her finger tips.

“Promise?” Harry asked hesitantly, doubt swarming in his stomach.

She sat up then, and for a split dying second he thought she was gonna leave, leaving him alone in the bed.

Instead she sat on his lap, his back leaning against the headboard. She sighed, legs on either side of his waist as her arms came up, sliding up his shoulders before her hands wrapped around his neck. “Harry,” she whispered, leaning closer.

“I want to stay with you until we’re grey and old. So old we don’t be able to get out of bed, so old neither of us can hear properly anymore. So old that we both have wrinkles covering our faces and even more when we smile. And I do that a lot around you.” She added, smiling as she said such things.

“Really?” Harry asked, voice barely audible. But she heard him well, nodding her head. “Yes,” she started, leaning closer and pecking his lips, sweet and soft, loving and kind. “And I definitely won’t be letting go any time soon.”

“I love you.” Harry whispered.

“And I love you.” She said back against his lips.

I hope you guys liked it!

[sunnami]

marauders era — the interactive story. [sneak peek.]

experience the thrill of being sorted into your hogwarts house all over again! who will you be in this story? a daring gryffindor, a generous hufflepuff, a clever slytherin, or an inquisitive ravenclaw?

will you be kind? reserved? bold? or, perhaps, mischievous? the choice is yours!

roam the castle corridors, attend your favorite classes and build your stats—go on a path that YOU choose!

spend your time at the library, or discover the secrets of the castle. develop your magic—do you like herbology or defense against the dark arts?

but more importantly, befriend students from other houses, or keep to your own circle, make enemies—or even fall in love!

(includes options for pronouns, any romantic path for the reader to pursue, etc.)

interact with these characters: lily evans, james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, peter pettigrew, dorcas meadowes, marlene mckinnon, gideon and fabian prewett, frank longbottom.

narcissa black, regulus black, lucius malfoy, barty crouch jr.

xenophilius lovegood, amos diggory, and more!

your story is yours to write!

snippet:

(this is a work in progress. a very, very rough draft that will undergo a long period of coding, writing, and editing!)

i have ALWAYS wanted to write an interactive story, not one based on votes—but one where a reader can stumble upon it months later and still be able to make their choices. when i was younger, i bought an interactive fantasy book, and it was the most magical novel i’ve ever read. i am so, so, excited to share this with everyone! it will be my first ever interactive story, so i only ask for a bit of patience, ueuue.

this is a gift for my friends, my wonderful readers, who have been so kind and generous to me, and so this is my show of love for everyone! 🤎🤎

feel free to leave any suggestions, comments, and feedback as i go through the development stage! i’ll be sharing progress and snippets every now and then.

again, thank you all so much!

— sunny

[d-targaryenshoe]

Blissful Banter- Luke Thompson

Word count: 1432

Summary: Yet a lie detector brings fun to one's connection even the truth likes to be discovered.

Luke glanced at the lie detector machine with skepticism and amusement.

You sat across from him with a playful smile on your face.

You had been together for a little over a year, and despite your age gap—Luke being thirty-six and you twenty-five, you had developed a deep and affectionate relationship.

However, you both had a teasing nature, often poking fun at each other in a way that only made your bond stronger.

Today, you decided to put your playful banter to the test, literally, by trying out a lie detector test.

"Are you sure about this?" Luke asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched the technician prepare the equipment.

"Absolutely," you replied, your voice light with excitement. "I’ve always wanted to see if you could lie to me with a straight face."

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. "I don’t lie, love. I’m an open book."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Sure, and I’m the Queen of England."

The technician, a stern-looking man in his fifties, adjusted the sensors on Luke’s wrist.

"Remember, the machine will measure changes in your physiological responses," he explained in a monotone. "So try to relax."

"Easy for you to say," Luke muttered under his breath. He caught your amused gaze and winked. "Bring it on."

With the machine ready, the technician nodded at you to start.

"Okay, let’s start with something simple," you said, crossing your legs and leaning back in your chair. "Who’s your favorite character in Bridgerton?"

Luke smirked. "Benedict, of course. How can I not."

The lie detector remained steady, confirming his truthfulness.

"Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your own character."

Luke laughed, shaking his head. "Anthony’s too uptight. And Colin is the opposite of Ben, cool, confident, and irresistible."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. "Alright, Mr. Confident. Let’s see if you’re as honest about other things."

You leaned forward, your tone turning teasingly. "Do you like my cooking?"

Luke hesitated for a fraction of a second, a split-second that didn’t escape your notice.

"Of course I do," he replied, his voice a tad too enthusiastic.

The machine beeped softly, indicating a small spike.

You gasped, your eyes wide with mock indignation. "You liar! I knew you didn’t like my quinoa salad!"

Luke chuckled, shrugging. "It’s not that I don’t like it, I just... prefer your lasagna."

"Mm-hmm," you said, squinting at him playfully. "I’ll remember that next time you ask for seconds."

The atmosphere between you was light and full of affection, with the lie detector test turning into a fun game rather than a serious interrogation.

You both knew that these little white lies—like Luke’s opinion on quinoa—were part of what made your relationship so enjoyable.

"Alright, my turn," Luke said, sitting up a bit straighter. "Do you secretly think I’m too old for you?"

Your expression softened as you considered your answer. "Truthfully? No, I don’t think you’re too old for me. I love that you’re a bit older. It makes me feel like I have someone who’s mature and knows what he wants."

The machine stayed silent, confirming your truthfulness.

Luke’s heart warmed at your words, and he smiled, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I’m glad to hear that."

You squeezed his hand in return, then leaned back with a mischievous grin. "But just to keep things interesting… Do you ever get jealous when I talk about how attractive Simone Ashley is?"

Luke’s grin turned into a mock scowl. "Jealous? Me? Never." But the lie detector’s soft beep betrayed him.

You burst out laughing. "I knew it! You’re jealous."

Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, fine, maybe just a little. But can you blame me? She's an absolute gem."

"True," you agreed, still giggling. "But don’t worry, you’re the only one for me."

You shared a tender moment, the banter giving way to genuine affection.

Luke realized that despite the light-hearted nature of the test, it was reaffirming what you both knew deep down—that you were crazy about each other, quirks and all.

"Okay, back to business," Luke said, clearing his throat. "How much did you actually know about Bridgerton before we started dating?"

You blushed slightly, biting your lip. "Honestly? Not much. I might have watched a couple of episodes before, but I wasn’t really into it until I met you."

The machine remained silent, and Luke smiled. "So, you started watching it just because of me?"

"Maybe," you admitted, your cheeks still pink. "I mean, it was worth it to understand your character."

Luke laughed, feeling touched. "That’s sweet. I’ll give you that one."

"Your turn," you said, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "Did you really think I was into you on our first date, or did you think I was just being polite?"

Luke chuckled, remembering your first date. "I was pretty sure you were into me. I mean, who wouldn’t be?"

You raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for the lie detector’s verdict.

The machine, however, remained steady, backing up Luke’s confidence.

"Wow, someone’s cocky," you teased, though you were impressed.

"What can I say?" Luke replied, grinning. "I’ve got a sixth sense for these things."

You shook your head, as though you were smiling. "Alright, Mr. Sixth Sense. Here’s a tough one—have you ever lied to me about something important?"

Luke’s smile faltered slightly as he thought about the question.

He wanted to answer quickly and truthfully, but the seriousness of the question caught him off guard.

"No," he said finally, his tone sincere. "I haven’t lied to you about anything important."

The lie detector agreed with him, showing no signs of deception.

You smiled softly, your eyes filled with warmth. "Good. I believe you."

Luke exhaled, realizing just how much your trust meant to him. "I’d never lie to you about something that mattered. You’re too important to me."

For a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted to something deeper, a reminder of the solid foundation you had built together despite your age difference and different life experiences.

"Okay," you said, clearing your throat and lightening the mood again.

"Let’s end on a fun one. Have you ever pretended to be interested in one of my hobbies just because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings?"

Luke laughed, knowing exactly what you were referring to. "You mean like when I pretended to enjoy that pottery class?"

You gasped, your eyes wide with faux outrage. "You didn’t enjoy it?"

"The clay was all over the place, and I made a bowl that looked more like a pancake," Luke admitted, grinning. "But I did it because I wanted to spend time with you."

The lie detector stayed silent, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You giggled, shaking your head. "Okay, I’ll give you that. But I actually thought your pancake bowl was pretty cute."

"Thanks," Luke said, smiling. "But let’s stick to your cooking from now on."

You laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Deal. But only if you promise to keep watching Bridgerton with me, even when there’s no more Simon Basset."

Luke leaned across the table, capturing your lips in a quick, affectionate kiss. "Deal."

As you wrapped up the lie detector session, Luke realized that the test, while initially just a bit of fun, had brought you closer.

The playful teasing, the honest confessions, and the laughter reminded you both of why you worked so well together.

Despite the differences in your ages, your relationship was built on trust, understanding, and a shared sense of humor.

"Well, that was fun," you said as you stood up, stretching after being seated for so long. "We should do this again sometime."

"Only if you’re ready to admit that I’m your favorite Bridgerton," Luke replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, as though you were smiling. "We’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll start lying just to keep you on your toes."

Luke laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked out of the room. "As long as you keep laughing with me, I think we’ll be just fine."

As you left the building, the sun setting in the distance, you both knew that the little adventure with the lie detector had only strengthened your bond.

After all, love wasn’t just about being truthful, it was about finding joy in each other’s quirks, teasing, and growing together—even when a lie detector was involved.

With that thought in mind, Luke and you walked hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges—and jokes—your relationship might bring next.