#so in the three years i liked him. he was active for like 2 months total.

[inbabylontheywept]

the house i grew up in was a little bit of a fixer upper. for the first 19 years, my dad just sort of slowly fixed it, but pretty early on in college, he came into a large amount of cash and decided to just do the whole thing at once. so he rented a different house for like, 2 months that was just a block down from us, and then got a bunch of contractors to fix original house ASAP. it was kind of crazy, but it compressed many years of work into like, three months.

the sitting in a new house for three months was actually pretty fun. and i shouldnt really complain at all (staying at home while in college is a sweet deal)

but.

but. my parents are fairly hard of hearing, and their bedroom in the old house was in the furthest possible annex from everyone else. wheras in the rental it was just in the middle of the house. so without going into details, i was extremely aware that my parents were having sex like, eight times a day. my dad had just retired and i guess they were celebrating, which is great i guess, having parents that really like each other is way better than the alternative, but also, it did make me envy their deafness. i kept headphones on for so long that year i got literal ear calluses.

at the same time, the house my buddy from the shoe incident grew up in flooded. turbo flooded. they burst like, two pipes at once and the damage was so severe they had to redo all the flooring and all the drywall. his family actually had homeowners insurance, which is either incredible or suspicious for a family that used the drained pool in their backyard to store rusty scrap metal. so insurance was handling the work, but in the meantime, they were crammed into a very small hotel room space. we did the math on it then, it averaged about 80 square feet a person.

so one day i got home, and i was chilling, and then six rolled around, and apparently six o'clock was sex o'clock because my parents decided to flex their cardio. i grabbed my headphones and prayed that god would do for me what he did for beethoven, but that failed to work, and then seven rolled around and my parents were still at it, which again, very impressive, but was pushing me to swap out judas for mozart in those prayers. there's a definitive point where you stop praying to be deaf and instead pray that god could take you to a nice field and pop you like a gore-balloon.

i was about five minutes away from that point when my friend called me and basically said i have been stuck in a 500 square foot space with 6 people and i didn't have many marbles to start but what few i had are gone. please. if we are friends, if we were ever friends, take me out of here just for a moment.

and i was still pretty mad at him, but i had pity on the poor guy. also helped that i was desperate to leave the house. so i drove the chickenshitmobile to the hotel and i picked him up, and then we did our normal hangout activity, which was go to food city and buy produce. his normal house was, on a good day, nasty, and his backyard was, as i stated before, mostly used to store mosquito larvae and rusty metal, so what we'd always done before was just walk to the grocery store a half block away and leer at vegetables.

so we did that and it was like old times again. they had some radishes that were expired, so i could buy like, literally an entire grocery bag of them for about $5. so i did. i really like radishes. he got a coconut because he liked fruit and beating things with hammers.

which probably would've been great except we didn't have a hammer, so instead we spent about 30 minutes stomping itike it owed us money. when it finally cracked we cheered like we just got the winning touchball at the superdome and then he ate some of the flesh, and i ate some of the radishes, and we admired the black, starless sky of the city before i took him back to his hotel room.

and then we got pulled over.

i forgot to turn my lights on because the street all around the food city was ludicrously well lit. so it went from being pretty bright, to pretty bright and flashy, then i pulled into a parking lot and a cop came to ask us for IDs which is where everything went to shit:

i’d forgotten my license at home. 

the cop was was actually kind of chill about it - he said he could get by with just an address. except i did not know my address. i hadn't memorized the new one yet. so i told the cop, my house is getting remodeled, i don't know my address right now. and then he went to my friend, and my friend said the exact same thing. house getting remodeled, staying somewhere else, no address, sowwwwwwy.

now the cop genuinely didn't know what to do. he went back to his car, and i was stressed that i was about to get into HUGE trouble so i started eating the radishes and my buddy started eating more of his coconut, and we actually managed to eat like a quarter of both before the cop came back. we ate enough produce that he could smell something weird in the air, and he asked what the smell was, and i said radishes, and my buddy said coconut, and the cop said which, and then we produced a large bag of droopy radishes and an absolutely brutalized coconut, and the cop was just like

so my buddy tried explaining how he was sharing a 500 square foot apartment with 6 people and wanted a fruit he could fight with power tools, and i tried explaining how i'd actually tried buying my parents like, board games and puzzles and stuff but nothing worked - the only thing my parents seemed to like doing right now was each other, and we both went on long enough and pathetically enough that the cop eventually went:

ok. stop.

and we stopped.

and he said do you know why i pulled you over?

and i said, because of my headlights, and my friend (who is hispanic) and the cop both looked at me like like i was the dumbest person in the entire world. and then the cop said no. that's why i'm allowed to pull you over. i checked your car because this neighborhood has a terrible sex trafficking problem, and i pull over every car i can to make sure no one is buying or selling sex. and you two are obviously doing neither. now i could give you, like, four tickets right now, but that would do nothing to make this area safer, so just turn your lights on, go home, drive safe, and try to be less stupid in the future.

and i said okay but i was thinking, you know, damn, this is just how i live man, i don't have a hidden third gear i can shift into. people can't just get smarter because it would be convenient. it's always convenient to be smart. i am literally trying my best.

but i didn't say anything because i was, slowly, learning how to filter what i said. instead i nodded and the cop left then i dropped my buddy off, and the last thing he said was said he owed me for responding to his SOS. I said he owed me for a lot of things, and he agreed that was true. then i drove home with my lights on, 5 under the speed limit, and arrived to a peaceful quiet home. I could’ve wept with relief but instead I went to bed.

the relief was short lived. i was woken up at 6 am by my parents. i swore, and then i prayed, and when i did not explode, i swore again. then i got up to make breakfast before my first class.

[staryinghao]

林彦俊等你好久了 真的就这样吗

[teaboot]

OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you

[coquettepascal]

like tiramisu

summary: nothing beats summer vacation like a secret relationship with your dad's best friend, right? wrong! what really beats summer vacation is trying not do jump joel's bones every time you're alone.

tags: 18+, smut, fluff, beach fic, age gap (it's dbf!joel, imagine what you want), dbf!joel, misuse of sunscreen, semi-public activities (not sex), groping, massaging, reader has a dad and brother, overuse of the word pretty, nicknames like pretty___ and baby, oral sex (f!recieving), she/her pronouns for your pussy, joel gets blueballed, fluff, joel and reader are very much in love, established relationship, secret relationship, stereotypical oblivious reader's!dad, mention of food poisoning (nothing graphic), slight grumpy!joel, soft!dom joel (ish)

a/n: woo!! i did it :D this is my submission for @hellishjoel's hot dilf summer challenge (link to the masterlist.) i'm a big fan of their work so i'm just happy to participate. tysm for this opportunity!

(3.6k, not beta read.)

Every year you travel to the coast with your dad and brother, enjoying a week at the tail end of summer to really relax. This year, your brother got sick, and so Joel took his place.

Like Joel, your dad’s best friend. You know, the one that you slept with a month ago one night after everyone went to bed? Joel like kind-of-your-secret-boyfriend-Joel. Simple situation really, you don’t know why you nearly shit yourself when Joel was standing in your driveway dragging a suitcase behind him. 

But, as Joel does, he’s made this easy. It shouldn’t be easy to be separated from him, but it’s made the small moments you can get with him better. Besides, you still get to see him in his handsome glory, all tan and broad and…

The not-easy part is not jumping on him every time your dad turns around. 

—

“Why is this so much more expensive than ice cream?” Joel asks you, eyes squinted as he peers at the chalkboard that hangs above the gelato cooler.

The family in front of you orders and literally pays with a 50 dollar bill, still not getting anywhere near a justifiable amount of change back. Joel squints at the board harder and you smile up at him. He needs glasses, you’ve been telling him this whole trip. 

“Having trouble?” You ask teasingly. Joel’s head turns, face already scowling, but then the employee behind the counter is asking for your order before he can tear you a new one.

Joel is still scowling at you as he shells out 25 dollars for 2 “adult size” cones. 

“S’not necessary to spend this much money on vacation, darlin’, we’re already relaxed,” He grumbles as you walk out of the air conditioned business, back into the beachy heat outside. 

Innocently, you lick up a drip of the tiramisu flavored gelato that drips down the cone. Joel’s eyes narrow more, clearly not appreciative of your behavior so far today. His face eases up when he takes a bite out of his mango sherbet, cooling his flamed temper. 

Your hand snakes into his free one as you walk down the beach, back to where your things are. It’s a quieter day on the beach, luckily. The past week you’ve spent with your father and Joel has been a hectic race for who can find a good spot on the beach, who can find a good spot to sit and eat, and who can find a good spot where the three of you can be left the fuck alone. 

Today you’ve found a good spot, tucked away behind some larger rocks. It kind of looks like it could be dangerous to be there when the tide comes in, but it’s out far today. You’re fine, you’re with Joel, and most importantly, the two of you are alone. 

Your dad ate some bad shrimp last night at dinner and has a horrible case of food poisoning. He assured both of you that he’d be fine on his own, to go enjoy the sun. 

God knows you both will.

You hop over to the blanket you had laid out, cowering under the shade of the rainbow umbrella Joel had bought earlier in the week. He claimed it was so you wouldn’t get heatstroke, but you have a feeling it was more for the sake of his skin. 

As you kick off your sandals, Joel sits down beside you under the umbrella, slurping obnoxiously at the remnants of his mango cone. Most of yours is still intact, though a bit melty. It’s something to marvel at, how Joel can inhale any food of any temperature in the blink of an eye. But it makes up his soft tummy, the one you can rest your head on later when you want to soak up the sun. 

“Do you wanna try mine?” You ask, noting the hungry eyes he’s giving your gelato. He nods and so you lean over to him, extending the cone.

And just as he leans in to take a massive bite, you jerk your hand, smearing tiramisu gelato onto the tip of his nose. 

“Oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling back, “that’s not fucking funny.” 

But it is funny. Seeing the white cream smudged on his nose, tangled in the bristles of his moustache. You can’t help but laugh at him. 

“That’s what you get for trying to chomp half of my treat!” You point out.

Joel’s head tilts at you, as if to say “really?” 

“Okay fine, I’ll fix it,” you huff. Passing your gelato to your free hand, you lean forward and suck the tip of his nose into your mouth, slurping off the remaining mess. 

Pulling back with a pop, you see Joel’s horrified face. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He groans, wiping your saliva off his face. 

Joel gives you a look, clearly expecting some sort of repayment for the ridiculous stunt you just pulled. Begrudgingly, you hand the rest of your cone to him, but only because you really should put on sunscreen.

—

The sun beats down on you as you lay against Joel’s chest and belly, his legs spread to make room for you. He’s wearing black board shorts that cut off around his mid-thigh, leaving more skin exposed. Joel didn’t wear these ones yesterday, or any day previous. It was just the same red shorts that went down to his knees. But today, he matches you and your black two piece. His thick thighs firmly frame you, keeping you in place. 

“You need to reapply your sunscreen, sweetheart,” Joel hums, blindly pawing the blanket for wherever you tossed the bottle earlier. 

Streams of sunlight bathe you where you sit, the sun no longer blocked by the rainbow umbrella Joel insisted on. You planned on tanning anyways, so you don’t mind as much as Joel seems to. He grabs the sunscreen and his sunglasses, tossing them on. 

Your chin is tucked to your chest, crunched as Joel leans over you more, opening the cap of the lotion. The liquid is so cold in comparison to the warm sun rays that blanket the two of you, a near-pained hiss escaping you.

“Don’t be a baby,” Joel grunts, working the sunscreen into your abdomen.

His hands work your soft flesh so gently, his calloused palms spreading the protective lotion carefully. Joel’s thumbs dig a little harder as he feels your hip bones beneath his hands, making you protest weakly. You know what he’s doing, taking this private opportunity for his own gain.

“Joel,” you warn whinily, squirming. 

His hands grasp you in place, holding you while the cords of muscle on his forearms pop. 

“I said don’t be a baby,” he repeats slower this time, his voice rumbling in your ear.

“We both know you’ve taken worse.”

Yeah. Yeah you do know that. It doesn’t shut you up anymore, whining as he reaches to massage your thighs, his hands slipping to your inner thighs fast. You can barely process his touch there before he’s sliding his hands back to a more appropriate spot, your arms. He’s keeping it PG for the most part at least. The nagging fear of your dad suddenly showing up despite his illness lives in the back of your mind. 

Joel massages your wrists and the palms of your hands, thumbs pushing the flesh soothingly as he murmurs in your ear about how soft you are, how perfect. 

He was keeping it PG, but he’s getting selfish now. The orange sun is painting your skin in a way that’s making it hard for him to think, and it’s been so long since he’s had you alone. Your eyes glaze over as he drips more lotion into his palms, rubbing it between them slowly. 

“Don’t wanna forget your chest, would hate for my pretty girl to burn,” is all the warning you get.

Joel’s arms loop beneath yours, his wet palms sliding up your abdomen and then beneath your swim top. Big hands envelope the starting swell of your breasts, coming upwards and smothering your sensitive skin in sunscreen. His name slips out again, choked and surprised, but this isn’t unwanted.

You miss Joel. Even as he’s been here with you for this whole week, you miss his kisses and his touch. Sleeping in the same room as him, but in separate beds, has been awful. To hear him snore without feeling the vibration of it on your own skin has been treacherous. 

So you’re letting him have this, because as much as you hunger for him, that man is ravenous.

His thumbs rub over your nipples, most of your top bunched up on his knuckles now. Joel’s voice is low in your ears, talking soft like you aren’t in total privacy on the beach. Everything is flying now, his mouth uncontrollable as he tells you how good you feel, how much he missed you. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, all week you’ve been so gorgeous, darlin,’” 

And then the kisses start. Hot down your neck, his scruffy face trails, tongue tracing the bitemarks he leaves occasionally. 

“Joel– Joel no marks,” you remind softly.

He obliges with a grunt, clearly unhappy with the situation. Sometimes he can get away with little marks, ones like on your inner thighs or your tits. But not here on a beach vacation, not so close to your dad. 

Joel continues to kiss you regardless, tilting your head so he can awkwardly meet your lips as he gropes you, massaging the lotion in as if the sun would ever hit any skin below your swimsuit. The atmosphere is only getting hotter as he touches you, the sun blazing against your skin as Joel rolls your nipples between his fingers, making you cry out.

You want more, you need more.

You can feel him hard against you, slightly digging into your back. Sex on the beach is a terrible idea. Public indecency, sand in places it shouldn’t be… but it’s so tempting when you feel how badly he wants you, how badly he missed you. 

Desperately, you turn in his embrace, his hands slipping out of your top, leaving you exposed. You shove your face against his hungrily, feeling as his sunscreen greased hand cups your jaw, gentle even when he’s starving. You open for him easily, letting his hungry tongue taste where he wants. He tastes like waffle cones and tiramisu, you want to lick him clean. You breathe heavily when he slips off your mouth and kisses the side of your face.

“S’a good girl, lettin’ me miss her,” he says into your skin.

Your mouth feels rubbed raw, your nipples are buzzing, and the sun blazes across your back. Everywhere feels warm, his lips, his tongue, your skin, your cunt in these bikini bottoms that stick to you in the worst way. You want Joel’s fingers, spreading you open however he wants. 

Joel is so good at taking care of you, so good that he can hear the rambunctious group of people coming before you can. Hands tug down your top and flip you back around before you can realize.

“You’re alright, s’okay, just some people,” Joel says, sounding anxious himself. 

Just some people. Not anyone you know, just some people.

The two of you quickly switch back to how youwere, your head on his chest while you rest between his thighs. One of his hands rests on your abdomen as he squeezes you affectionately between his legs. It’s really frustrating, watching as the group of people sets up not too far down from the both of you. So much for your private spot on the beach, and potential sex. 

He shifts beneath you, the bulge in his swim shorts uncomfortable. Joel has settled for rubbing his thumb against the smooth skin of your tummy, catching his breath still. 

“You can sleep, baby. Jus’ enjoy the sun, okay?”

The last thing on your mind is sleep, you’re more focused on the conch shell in his pants, but whatever. The sun is warm, and you’re with Joel. His hand stills on your belly, a warm weight in an attempt to soothe you.

-

It works, you fall asleep as the sun sets, and wake up when the cool night air shivers past you. Joel has managed to snake out from under you, using an unused beach towel to make a pillow for you. He’s packed everything up, sans the towel pillow and the blanket you lay on. Everything is ready to go, he’s just been waiting for you.

You watch from where you lay, as he dips his toes in the water. His broad shoulders are covered by a white, linen, shirt, highlighting him across the shore. Something about this is so right, to be on vacation with him, to be taken care of by him. Laying back, eyes staring into the inky night, you wonder what would have happened if the two of you hadn’t stayed up late that night, chatting and flirting. How long would you have gone without feeling loved, and like you belonged? 

Being Joel’s girl is more than that, even if no one knows you’re his, you have come to know yourself through him. His hands brushed away the sands that blurred your eyes, you’re seeing clearly for what feels like the first time ever.

Your love for him crashes down on you hard when he turns, walking back to you with a soft, dorky, smile. That’s your man, that’s your stupid old man, and he loves you.

“You ready t’go, darlin?” Joel asks, clearly relieved you eventually woke up.

With a nod, you walk as a pair back to the hotel. Joel insists on carrying everything, claiming he “don’t need” your help, even as he grunts.

-

Entering  the lobby of the hotel is a reminder that you have to be normal again, you and Joel are just getting along swell, and not seriously infatuated with one another.

His eyes bear into you when you step into the elevator, you can feel his eyes on your back as you press the button for your floor.

“What?” You ask, stepping back to lean against the railing.

Joel’s mouth seems to be dry as he responds, eyes tracing something on your stomach.

“Your tummy,” he manages.

You look down instantly, concerned you’ve managed a sunburn despite Joel’s efforts. Instead though, you find a tan line. A tan line in the shape of Joel’s hand, where it rested as you slept. Ghosts of Joel’s lips and teeth on your neck from earlier murmur across your skin, misting tingles across your shoulders and chest. He wanted to mark you so badly, wanted to sink his teeth into you the way he should have been able to, despite your refusal. Now he has his mark, across your tummy in the shape of his hands, the ones that carefully nurture you. 

You can see how it’s making him tick, how his scruffy jaw is clenched as his eyes are entranced by the shape on your belly. He has to spend the rest of the evening, the last couple of days of this trip, with his mark on you. Joel has to do all of that and not jump onto you at every opportunity he can.

“Baby,” Joel breathes, but the elevator doors open, and your dad is right there.

Your arms instantly wrap around your middle, trying to hide away the Joel-hand shaped tan line. As sick as your dad was this morning, he’s looking miles better. There’s colour in his cheeks, that isn’t green, and he’s standing up.

“Hey kid,” he greets cheerfully, “I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better so I was gonna go out and grab a bite to eat.”

The elevator is so quiet, the doors try to shut and Joel slams a hand against it, to keep it open. Your dad looks a little weirded out, but just smiles. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” you manage to say, sounding like your lungs have been cut out of your chest.

In the few months that you and Joel have been “together” you haven’t been caught, or even close to being caught. This tan line on your tummy could have been the cat out of the bag, but thankfully your dad seems oblivious.

He steps into the elevator between you two, gently nodding at the elevator doors.

“Y’all gettin’ out? Both of y’look kinda sunfried,” your dad asks.

Joel manages to respond this time as the two of you hurriedly leave the confined space. -

He practically dragged you down the hallway and back to your room once the elevator doors shut, leaving your dad in the dark. Joel dumped all your stuff on the floor near the door, pushing you off him when you tried to kiss at him.

“Naw. Bed,” he had grumbled, making a vague gesture to your bed.

You both knew you had limited time, your dad would be gone for an hour tops. Joel had peeled off his shirt while you shimmied out of what little clothes you had on, your swimsuit coverup falling away easily.

Now, you lay on your back, and if you could look down, you would see the sweat that’s soaking his back and the mess of hair on his head.

But you can’t look down, you can barely move as is. Your legs, which are tossed over his shoulders, shiver, toes curled. You want to ask if he can breathe down there, but your voice keeps catching, repeating his name again and again. The bristles of his facial hair might be chafing, but everything is wet right now, your cunt, his face, your thighs. He’s suffocating in your flesh, opening his mouth to sloppily make out with your pussy, licking at your clit as he sucks it between his lips. It isn’t gentle, he’s fucking famished.

“Joel– Baby, please,” you manage to whimper. 

He probably can’t hear you with the headlock you’ve put him in, soft thighs trapping his ears. Joel’s face slides down further to push his tongue into you, making you clench and gush as his nose presses to your clit. Reaching your hand down, you lace your fingers against his curls, trying to pry him away, but he just won’t quit. Your fingers slip from his sweaty strands, slamming onto the sheets as he doesn’t let up.

“Missed you, missed her,” he rasps between kisses. 

Joel loves this, loves pleasing you. This isn’t submission, this is worship. He talks to your cunt like he knows her, like he’s dating her too. Gentle as he is, he knows where your aches and cricks are, knows how to massage them with his fingers and tongue. Joel takes care of you both, it’s what he lives for. 

“I know, I can feel it, I missed you too,” you babble, hands flagrant between his hair and the sheets.

He laughs softly into you, smiling. You tug him closer, grinding onto his nose as a tease. 

Joel focuses on bringing himself closer, arms snaking up beneath your ass to curl his hands around your thighs, fingers digging in as he pulls you closer. “Been so patient all week, need you t’come for me, please pretty thing?” He groans.

Nodding your head, you start to work with him. Again and again you roll your hips into his face. The two of you are fucking on borrowed time and Joel hastily promises you that he can take care of himself in the shower later, that he just needs to focus on you.

“Just need to taste you, remember your cunt in my mouth, please?” Joel asks.

You nod even faster now, huffing out air as your hips rise and he pulls you closer, tongue and teeth and nose buried in you. Every movement he makes begs for your release, begs for you to give him what he wants. His voice rumbles around your head, a voice encouraging this selfish feeling of pleasure.

“C’mon darlin, I’ve been waitin’ all week to have you. Let go for me, I’ve been patient.”

It sends you over, the mixture of Joel getting pussydrunk on you and the thoughts of him in your head. Your thighs lock around his head even harder, and he powers through without taking a breath for himself. Thoughts of times with him previous flash through your mind as you shiver, thoughts of what he’ll do to you once you’re both home make you gush. He laps it all up, his reward for being patient. 

When he pulls away, your essence is all over his face. Slicked through his facial hair and even on the tip of his nose, like tiramisu gelato. 

Unlike the gelato, you decide not to suck this cream off his nose.

Gently, you swipe a finger over his nose, cleaning it off with your own tongue.

“Thank you, baby,” you hum.

Joel manages to drag himself up your body, caging you beneath him while he smiles. Soft kisses are shared between the two of you, enjoying the peaceful moment where you’re finally, truly, alone. His moustache prickles your upper lip as he smiles and pulls away.

“Can give me your ‘thank you’s’ in a few days time, sweet girl.” He says, pulling himself down to kiss the 5 fingertips of the hand tan line he left.

Looking down at him as he kisses your belly, you hope you'll be exchanging thank you's for a very long time.

[prentissluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 2

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, general filth, threesome, smut, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), and Rhaenyra ‘talks you through it’ Targaryen

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.6K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“Darling, you need to wake up,” Rhaenyra coaxes, stroking her fingers through your hair. “The tournament is today and the maids have already drawn you a bath.”

You groan, rolling away from your wife and back into Daemon’s warm side. “Five more minutes,” you grumble. 

Rhaenyra snorts out a laugh, “we both know what that will turn into.”

“It’s not fair,” you whine. “Why does Daemon get to sleep in? Isn’t he competing in this damn thing?” You pull the blankets up over your head in an attempt to shut out the light.

Rhaenyra yanks the blankets down, and the sudden chill from the morning air is enough to wake both you and Daemon. “Now you’re both up.”

You grumble, rolling out of bed and attempting to wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Can you pick a dress for me, Nyra?” 

Rhaenyra hums her agreement and rifles through your wardrobe to find something “tourney-appropriate.” You gaze at your wife, awestruck. It’s been six months since you woke up in Westeros. Y/N from a year ago couldn’t even imagine herself married, let alone to someone like Rhaenyra and Daemon. But now? You couldn’t really fathom life without them. Things were just….easy with them. Of course you argued, but the three of you never went to bed angry. You weren’t one to believe in soulmates, but the way they fit so effortlessly into you could convince you otherwise.

You softly pad across the room, sliding your arms around Rhaenyra’s waist and resting your chin on her shoulder. Pecking her cheek, you watch as she sifts through the wardrobe. “Does it really matter what I wear?”

“This is your first public outing since you lost your memories, of course it matters,” Rhaenyra chides. “I want this day to be perfect for you.”

You laugh light, nuzzling into Nyra and trailing kisses up her neck. “If you want this day to be perfect, we could just forget the tourney and make our own entertainment here.” 

“You’re insatiable.” Rhaenyra says, turning around to kiss you deeply. You moan into her mouth as she grips your hips and pulls you closer into her. She nips at your lower lip, drawing a gasp from you. Your hands fly up to grip her hair, the white locks soft and neat despite last night’s activities.

Rhaenyra breaks the kiss, hands trail up your sides as she pulls your shift up and over your head. You shiver at the cool air, but Nyra chases that away as she kisses and nips her way down your neck. A curse is stuck in your throat as Rhaenyra plucks at your nipple with deft fingers. Your hands cradle her head as you try to pull her back up into a kiss, but Nyra bats ur hands away and laves her tongue over your nipple. “Nyra, please,” you whine.

She glances to the bed behind, a smirk playing on her lips. “It appears we have an audience,” she purrs. You look over your shoulder to see Daemon, lounging on the bed in nothing more than his wedding rings. His back is against the headboard as he lazily strokes his cock. “What do you say darling?” Rhaenyra asks as she turns you to face Daemon fully. “Should we give him a show?”

You nod desperately, wanting nothing more than for Rhaenyra to touch you again.

“Use your words.” Daemon’s voice is gravely from sleep. 

“Please.”

“Please?” Rhaenyra teases. “I can’t give you anything unless you tell me exactly what it is you want.” Her left arm slides around your waist, holding you in place.

“Please touch me.”  

“I am touching you.” She nibbles at your ear as she tightens her grip on your waist.

“You know what I me-”

“Oh I don’t think I do. Where does my needy little dragon want to be touched?” Rhaenyra asks. “Here?” Her right hand ghosts across your cheek. “Or maybe….here?” Her hand falls to tweak at your nipple. 

“Ah-”

“No, I think you want me here,” Nyra purrs as she slips a hand between your thighs. You widen your stance, rocking your hips forward into her palm. She rubs tight circles on your clit as she reaches her other hand up to pluck at your nipples.

“You give in to her too easily,” Daemon chastises. “If you keep spoiling her like this, she’ll never want to leave our chambers.”

“My prince, don’t you have a tournament to prepare for?” you say as you turn your head to catch Nyra’s lips.

“Hmm, mouthing off are we?” Daemon hums in response. “I can think of a far better use for those pretty lips.”

“If you win today, I just might consider putting these ‘pretty lips’ to a use,” you tease.

Daemon’s gaze darkens and he motions you forward as he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed, spreading his thighs. You lick your lips in anticipation, stalking forward and dropping to your knees before him. Nuzzling into his knee, you kiss up his thigh and stop as you reach his cock. “Open,” he orders, slapping his cock lightly against your tongue. 

You shift your thighs, trying to get some friction. “There’s my obedient little slut,” Daemon purrs. “All that fire just disappears the second she’s on her knees.”

His fingers wind into your hair, guiding his cock into your mouth. You eagerly lap at the head of his cock, lightly sucking. “That’s it,” he moans. “Keep going, my love. Take me a little deeper.”

You moan as you bob your head to take him deeper, sliding a hand between your legs to toy with your clit. 

“None of that.” Rhaenyra says, pulling your hand away from your core before her hands replace Daemon’s to grip your hair. She sets a harder pace than Daemon, fucking your mouth down onto his cock. 

Spit drips down your chin as your moans vibrate along his shaft. “Fuck,” Daemon swears. “You feel so good, my love–taking me so well.”

“Like she’s made for us,” Rhaenyra finishes. 

Your hands grip at Daemon’s thighs as you fall into Nyra’s rhythm. You gag lightly as she forces you down a little too far. She pulls you back instantly, kissing your forehead in an apology before guiding you back down. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs. “Can you take a little more?” 

You attempt to nod as she slowly presses you down, and you feel the head of his cock bump the back of your throat.

“Gods,” Daemon moans. 

“Fuck, look at you.” Rhaenyra murmurs. “Halfway down his cock and gagging for more. You can keep going for me, can’t you?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you’re determined. You swallow around his cock as you let Rhaenyra guide you down.

“Eyes up, I want to watch as you take me down your throat.”

Your eyes flutter as you meet his gaze. You struggle to get the last few inches, but even your breathing before sliding home. 

“Good girl,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Hold it.” Her hand holds you firmly down at the base of Daemon’s cock. “Right there.”

“Fuck, I’m so close.” Daemon breaths out. He moans, his hips bucking lightly as he struggles to restrain himself from fucking your face.

“Can you take it for us?” Nyra leans down to nip at your earlobe. “I want you to make Daemon come. You can do that, just a little more.”

Daemon swears as his restraint breaks. He thrusts up into your mouth, and you grip his thighs tighter in response. He climaxes with a low groan. Rhaenyra grips your hair harder, pulling your head back so you’re staring up at her.

“Don’t swallow,” she orders. “Open wide, let me see the mess he made.” You whine, eyes rolling back at her words. Your mouth drops open, and Rhaenyra groans at the sight. She leans down, kissing you fiercely, swiping her tongue across yours to taste Daemon’s cum.

You moan into the kiss, pulling at her dress in an attempt to get it off. 

“Later love,” she says, pulling away from you. “Your bath is getting cold.”

“But I didn’t-”

“We know,” Daemon smiles wickedly. “But I have a tourney to prepare for.” He wanders over to the wardrobe, pullings a pair of pants on before stopping to plant a kiss on your lips.

“Not fair,” you whine. “I didn’t get to come.” Your hands reach for his waistband.

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his. 

“Later,” Daemon promises. “After I win the tournament, I promise to lock you in these rooms and fuck that needy cunt until you’re begging me to stop.”

NOTE: Should I…..turn this into an actual series with an actual plot….nahhhh. Maybe later. For now I’m just enjoying writing their dynamic. Can’t wait to drop part 3 for ya’ll.- Lacie <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra

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[readsaboutreid]

Permanent Solution | S.R.

cw: big big warning for suicidal ideation (first person POV so you get some of the full on thought spiraling) typical criminal minds violence (reader gets kidnapped by an unsub and tortured but it doesn’t get too descriptive), extreme angst, Morgan being a dick at first (I love him but he was the only person I could really see for the role he fills in the plot with his tell it like it is vibes) but he gets his redemption in pt 2 i promise

no request for this one i had a real bad day and needed to use my thought spiral in some sort of creative outlet to get myself out of it so i took it out on spencer and reader sorry in advance y'all

"None of us like you."

The words rattled around in my brain as I walked absent-mindedly, my destination already in the back of my mind. I hadn't made this walk in five months. The five months before that had been focused on reducing the number of times I took this path.

First, the goal had been to reduce the number of times I felt compelled to take this particular walk. Walks overall weren't out of the question, and were actually encouraged. Especially walks where I shared the company with someone else. But this specific one was different. It carried a different weight. The initial goal set with my therapist had been to reduce how often I walked this path from nearly every night to no more than two or three times a week, substituting it with a different path through a different and more active part of town. After that, the goal was to move to only walking this path once a week. Then, ideally, none at all.

Ten months. Ten months of twice-weekly therapy sessions down the drain. With five measly words. I started to wonder what Spencer would say if he knew where I was headed, but shook my head free of the thought. He'd be better off in the end, anyways. The wind bit into my cheeks and I tugged the green cardigan that hung loosely off my shoulders so that it was tighter around me, the only protection from the cold that seeped down into my bones. I began to walk faster as I shivered, trying anything I could to warm up my body even just a little bit, and thought back to the encounter from earlier that had caused me to spiral so suddenly and severely.

"—none of us like you," Morgan said to me, cutting me off right as I was attempting to defend my previous decision to turn down the previous drink night invitations in the twelve months since I'd been at the BAU, resulting in Spencer also turning them down and going home with me, instead for the last eleven out of twelve of those months. The expression on his face matched the complete and utter disdain dripping from each and every word. "Not even Hotch, who got you the job in the first place, seems to want you on the team anymore. The only person who ever wants you to be around is Reid, and none of us can figure out why." When he finished I took a look around the table to see everyone else just looking down and avoiding my gaze, including Penelope, who had become somewhat of a sister to me in the past year.

"You—," my voice caught in my throat at that point and I cleared it, trying to sound as steady as I could as I asked, "A-all of you share this sentiment?" Despite strength I had tried to muster to ask that question, my voice only came out thick and wavery, and it was all I could do to keep my lip and lower jaw from trembling. I had tried as hard as possible to overcome myself since starting at the BAU, to believe that the people around me genuinely enjoyed my presence and didn't secretly roll their eyes and sigh in relief when I left the room, but apparently I had failed to make them like me and that's exactly what they felt.

"You'll have to excuse me, please," I gasped as the information presented to me sank in. I then stood, my eyes swimming with tears, and ran from the table they had all situated themselves into at the bar, only to run head on into Spencer, who grabbed my by the shoulders with a soft laugh and gentle smile.

"Easy there, (Y/N)," he chuckled while steadying me. It was only then that he realized something was wrong and his smile was immediately replaced with a concerned frown. "Hey, what's wrong, angel?" I shook my head, shook free of his grasp, and kept making for the door, my head slowing down a bit as I finally was able to take in a breath of fresh air as I made it outside.

Spencer hastily followed after me, right at my heels. "(Y/N)! (Y/N), wait!" He called after me, pushing his way through the crowd and finally out the door as well before wrapping me tightly in his arms. "Hey, now, what's wrong, love?" He cooed as he pressed my head into his chest and wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders when he felt me tremble.

I hesitated, debating what to say to him. I could either tell him the truth and earn the further ire of our colleagues by snitching or I could do what I do best: blow every thing up so there would be nobody else to blame but myself. I opted for the latter.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I finally managed to force the words from my throat. Each one stabbed into my chest with the force of a dull butter knife. "I— th-this—," I stumbled, "th-this isn't working, Spencer." My voice was barely above a whisper by the end when I finally met his eyes, which quickly filled with tears at hearing my words.

"Wh-what?" The word came out as nothing more than a breath but within it I swear I could hear the crack in his chest that echoed the one in my own. "Why— wh-what— I don't— where is this coming from?"

"I'm sorry," I said through soft sobs before I turned and ran off, leaving him standing on the sidewalk with tears slowly beginning to fall down his cheeks.

I had broken his heart, ensuring that he, too, would hate me. That was the plan. I had to push him away and make him hate me as much as the rest of them so that it would hurt him less when they found me. I made the last turn and found myself at my destination - the 11th Street bridge.

Spencer stood on the sidewalk, staring after her long after she had disappeared around the corner up ahead. He ran through the events of the past hour, trying to figure out what he could have done.

"You can go without me, Spencer," she protested as he tried to convince her to go out for drink night with the rest of the team.

"Please come with me? It will be fun, I promise!" It was a strange reversal for him to be the one trying to coax someone else into going out. Usually it was Morgan trying to convince him to go out (Garcia had literally forced him to go out with her after a particularly rough case or two), but now he decided to pay it forward to get his girlfriend to come out with their team and have some much needed fun. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"What if they don't actually want me there?" She asked, her voice small and timid.

"That's ridiculous! Why wouldn't they want you there? You're amazing," he smiled at her, starting to pepper her face with kisses in an attempt to cheer her up. She giggled quietly, not really trying as she made to push him away. He continued his assault, kissing her cheeks, forehead, nose, and lips, over and over with light pecks. When she finally acquiesced, he was giddy with excitement and felt a swell of pride in his chest at the progress she had made since they met.

As they stepped out of his car he grabbed her hand and saw her face twist with anxiety. He gave her hand a soft, reassuring squeeze before his phone rang, the number for the mental facility his mother currently resided in showing on the screen. "I need to take this, head on inside and I'll be right there, okay angel?" She swallowed nervously and walked inside, and he took the call.

5 minutes and 29 seconds.

That's how long he had been on the phone. Whatever had happened had taken only 5 minutes and 29 seconds. And it ended his relationship.

Spencer found himself pushing the door open and walking back inside the bar. His blood rushed in his ears as he approached the table and stared at all of his coworkers.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard above the music.

"Reid," Morgan started, but Spencer cut him off. "Don't look at us like th—"

"Whatever was said in the 5 minutes and 29 seconds I was on the phone with my mother's hospital resulted in me getting dumped on the sidewalk outside when not even 30 minutes ago (Y/N) was laughing, and smiling, and happy. So what. Happened?" He seethed.

"Alright, you want to know what happened, Reid?" Morgan snapped, preparing to stand up and tell him off before being stopped by Penelope, who looked as though she was still on the verge of tears. 

“Reid, I’m sorry,” she whispered as she stood up instead, standing in front of Spencer. “I should have stopped him,” she continued, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have let him talk to her like that.” 

“What did he tell her?” Spencer turned to Garcia, interrupting Derek as he opened his mouth to interject. 

“I told her the truth,” Morgan slurred, finishing off what the rest of them knew was his fourth glass of whiskey. Spencer opted to ignore his clearly drunk colleague and continued to address Garcia. 

“Garcia, what did he say to my girlfriend?” Spencer insisted, his anger being slowly replaced by a sense of growing dread. 

“He— he told her nobody wanted her around,” she admitted, her eyes closing and her face twisting with guilt before she hastily added, “which of course that’s not the case! I love (Y/N) like she’s my own sister...” Spencer felt his heart drop into the pit that had become his stomach as his fears were confirmed.  

“But?” Spencer added, tilting his head to the side, his voice growing quieter as the conversation continued. 

“...but the rest of us miss you, Spence,” JJ finally spoke up. “We haven’t seen you in ages outside of work! If she’s keeping you from spending time with your friends, that's a little bit of a red flag, isn't it?” She reasoned, standing to put a hand on his bicep to calm him.  

He angrily shook her off, the anxiety coursing through his veins shifting back into an icy rage. “She hasn’t kept me from doing anything, Jennifer,” he spat through gritted teeth as he held her gaze, which was a mix of shock and hurt at his tone.  

“Spence, I just meant that—” JJ started, but was immediately interrupted by Spencer, whose rage was steadily growing to the point where he was certain he was visibly trembling. 

“In fact, she has been continually insisting that I leave her behind to come out with you all, but given that I don’t drink much to begin with I usually just opt for a night in with her. I didn’t realize I needed permission from the rest of the team to make that decision for myself,” he bit back before turning to leave. 

“Where are you going, Reid? Reid! Come on, man, be reasonable!” Morgan called out, only for Spencer to ignore him and keep walking. If he stayed there any longer, he knew he would end up saying something he’d regret, and with the way most of them were talking about his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—he figured they’d find some way to blame her for his outburst if he did.

When he finally exited the bar, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and he turned on his heel, preparing for another round of arguing, only to be met with the now tear-streaked cheeks of Penelope Garcia. 

“What do you want, Garcia?” He snapped, his face softening as he took in her apologetic expression. 

“I— I’m sorry, Spencer,” she whispered. “I should have told Derek to shut up, I’m so sorry! I just— I hate when the people I love start fighting like that! I shut down and— and I know I should have stood up for her but I just— I just froze like a coward and—” her voice grew more frantic and upset before Spencer cut her off. 

“Garcia, it’s not your fault,” Spencer sighed, his anger fading away until the only thing he felt was the ache in his chest. “Derek was drunk and belligerent. You’re not responsible for his actions.” He paused as he took a deep, shuddering breath. “I just wish I could have been there to put a stop to it. She’s so sweet, and kind, and utterly terrified of people. I shouldn’t have sent her in by herself knowing that." His voice cracked as a fresh wave of tears started to fall down his own cheeks. 

“Spencer, you had no way of knowing any of this would happen,” Penelope wrapped Spencer in a tight hug, and he finally broke down. His body shook gently with soft, nearly silent sobs and he cried into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I know how much you love her.” Garcia’s own voice cracked as her heart ached for the crying boy in her arms.  

“Wh— what do I do, Penelope?” He mumbled into the sleeve of her sweater. “I just want to help her feel better.” That’s all he’d wanted since he’d first laid eyes on her. He’d never forget how emaciated she had looked, her skin pallid and her eyes nothing more than dim, lifeless pits with dark bruise-like rings underneath them.  

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Dr. (Y/L/N). She just graduated from the academy and has expertise in psycholinguistics as well as a doctorate in neuropsychology, so I have no doubt she’ll be an excellent addition to the team.”

Spencer had tried his hardest in the two months after that initial introduction to get to know her, to understand why she looked like a reanimated corpse (albeit a very beautiful one) who had just wandered out of a morgue. Over those two months, the two of them had grown closer and closer, thanks to much insistent pushing from him. At first, it came in the form of attempting to get her to join the rest of them for drinks at their bar of choice (the others would never invite her themselves but Spencer would insist to her that it was okay, that she was a part of the team), but quickly he realized that all might be a bit too much for her. So, one night, he told the team he wasn’t feeling up to going out and instead privately asked (Y/N) if she’d want to join him for pizza and a movie at his place since he wasn't feeling up to big crowds and he had a feeling neither was she. He had been prepared to be turned down but was pleasantly surprised when her face showed the slightest expression of piqued interest and she agreed.

He then started to skip out on pretty much all of the future invitations to go out for drinks with the rest of the team, opting instead to go home for pizza and Doctor Who or Star Trek marathons with her, and he started seeing a whole other side to her that no one else had even suspected could have existed. She’d slowly opened to him, occasionally letting out quiet and restrained laughs at his goofy jokes and puns at the beginning of their friendship.

Eventually, those soft titters grew into ebullient, beautiful laughs that were like music to his ears. Her smiles went from being forced and never meeting her eyes to lighting up her entire face, at times so brightly that Spencer swore she could illuminate a dark room with nothing but her smile. She showed that there was a side to her that was goofy, outgoing, and full of life.

It was around then (November 17 at 11:57 PM) that their relationship had started officially with a soft, tentative kiss goodnight; but from the very first time he heard her let out a soft, breathy giggle at his goofy joke about Spock having three ears (‘a left ear, a right ear, and a final front-ier!’), Spencer knew that he would marry her someday.

Or at least he had thought so, until tonight.  

“Give her some space to sort out her emotions, Spencer,” the voice of Penelope Garcia in his ear dragged him back into the present, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. “She loves you more than anything, and we both know that.” She let go and gave him a teary smile before wiping her cheeks.  

“You’re right,” he replied, taking in another deep, shuddering breath. “Plus, she walked away with my cardigan, and we both know she’s a stickler about returning borrowed clothing!” He attempted a joke, but the laugh he tried to give after cracking it came out more like another choked sob.  

“If I were you, I’d just give her a quick phone call and let her know that you love her no matter what anyone else says or thinks, okay? She needs to know that more than she needs anything else right now.”  

“Right. Yes, you’re right,” he muttered, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve. “Thank you, Penelope.” 

“I’m always here for you, Spencer,” she smiled at him before adding, “both of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go tear Agent Morgan a new asshole for getting you dumped and hurting my best friend.” She took a second to shake her head and rub her own cheeks to dry them. “Call me once she makes it home safely to you, okay? Promise?” He nodded quietly. “Uh-uh-uh, what was it that one kid had told you a while back? ‘A promise doesn’t count unless you say it out loud,’ right?” 

“I promise,” Spencer felt a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. He then walked down the block to his car, got in, and drove home to wait for (Y/N).  

When he arrived and had walked through the doorway, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed her number. It rang four times and then went to her voicemail.  

“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Dr. (Y/L/N), I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number, I’ll return your call as soon as I am able. Thanks!” Beep. 

“Hi, (Y/N). So, Penelope filled me in on everything that happened,” he began shakily, and took a deep breath before he continued. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to stop Morgan from saying all of that, but please, please know that no one hates you, I promise. Penelope assured me that she was going to tear him a new one for what he said, and I promised her that I’d call her once you made it home safely.” He paused, searching for his next words carefully, and settled on, “I love you so much, angel. Please, please never forget that.” And then he had to hang up the phone, his eyes filling with more tears.  

He made his way to the couch and sat down, turning the TV on and finding a marathon of Buffy the Vampire Slayer playing. Knowing it was her favorite show, he left it on and patiently waited. On the couch sat a small stuffed cat with a blue and white spotted mushroom for a head that he had gifted her on a whim, Dr. Mewshroom, as she had taken to calling it. He grabbed Dr. Mewshroom and hugged it close to his chest as he leaned back on the couch and eventually dozed off. 

I paced up and down the 11th Street bridge for an hour before I decided to hop up and sit on the railing. My walking had warmed me up significantly, so I shed the cardigan Spencer had wrapped around my shoulders. Hopefully, it would be returned to him when they eventually found me. I stared down into the dark water beneath my dangling feet and tried to find the courage within me to jump, but I couldn’t give myself the final push I needed, just like all of the previous times I’d made this trip.  

I must have sat there for fifteen more minutes or so before I decided to give it up and go home to Spencer. Maybe, if I begged and pleaded with him, he’d take me back. I checked my phone to see that I had a missed call from him. Weird, I hadn’t even heard it ring. Before I could turn myself around to hop off the railing, I was grabbed from behind and a cloth was pressed to my mouth and nose, blocking me from screaming. My nose and throat filled with a burning sensation before everything faded to black... 

[writing-makes-me-human]

Charming Killer: 2

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Pairing: Neteyam x reader

PART ONE PART THREE

Summary: Neteyam confronts his fears of the scientists compound in his attempts to reach you. He’s all over you the second he see’s you and while you don’t really know what he’s saying it doesn’t fail to have an effect on you.

Warnings: I basically turned him into a cat unintentionally. 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I did not proof read this very well cause I was working on multiple fics then realised I had nothing to post! She’s as good as it gets rn kids sorry.

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A week had passed since Neteyam had dropped you off at the laboratories on the outskirts of his village, and a lot had happened since then.

After Neteyam left, you were escorted into the premises by Max, who turned you over to Norm for fixing.

Norm had patched your arm up with gauze paired with a paste made from the wilds of Pandora, and he was delighted to finally put a face to the voice he had been hearing through the comlink for over a year.

The consensus from everyone was that you had been lucky Neteyam had found you. The bullet hadn't passed through your lower arm, and with a quick extraction, you were on the road to healing, surrounded by the reasonably happy group of rebel scientists you had been feeding information to from the compounds of the RDA these past months.

As your arm healed, you grew closer to Max and helped him run the station as much as he would let you when you weren't meant to be resting. This still left a lot of time in the day, so you started to shadow either Max or Norm and tried asking as much as possible about the Na'vi people as you learned the trades needed to keep the station afloat.

You had built up a routine for day-to-day life, and while it was boring, helping the native people and their planet is what you had risked your life for. It's why you wouldn't see Earth again, and it's why you were here.

The mundane work was mostly upkeeping the lab from weather and fixing any technical issues you were qualified for. Still, occasionally, Norm would let you discern things he had brought back from outside while he had been in his avatar. It made your heart sink as you knew that no matter what, you couldn't go back out there with the threat of everything being nearly twice as significant as you and twice as deadly.

Norm was actively showing off his hobby of teaching now, and it felt awkward to have this heavy feeling in your chest while Norm looked like a kid in a candy store as he held up the flower to you and pointed out the different attributes and what they were used for with a pair of tweezers.

You nodded and occasionally asked questions, but this quiet learning moment was interrupted when Max tore into the room with sweat running across his forehead. He must have sprinted across the entire compound.

"We have an issue", he finally managed to gasp out, and you immediately turned to Norm, who, as swiftly as he could, placed down the flower onto the sterilized tray behind him and set off after Max with you in tow.

"What's the matter?" Norm nervously asked as his eyes darted around, seeing the rest of the human residents were somewhat uneasily watching you three nearly sprint to the opening hatch that led to the vast plains of Pandora.

"Y/n, you've got a guest", Max coughed out with an awkward laugh as your eyes widened in curiosity.

Your trio rushed to reach the containment hallway, which was the only barrier between your oxygenated environment and the deadly poisonous gasses of the alien planet.

All of you were entirely out of breath once you approached the spot, and you could feel your arm cry out as you stepped inside the room just outside of the airlock.

Your eyes widened in happiness as you saw your savior awkwardly taking a device that was attached to his side and bringing it to his face. Neteyam took a deep breath with his eyes shut before his eyes fluttered open again and immediately found you a few feet in front of him.

A few scientists below him tried to advise him of a few safety briefings in Na'vi so he didn't go around smacking things over. Still, he completely turned a blind eye to them and he stepped over the woman who yelled out for him to come back. Neteyam happily ignored her as he shuffled towards your more petite figure with a grin. Norm and Max backed up immediately as the giant man came towards them.

Neteyam placed a hand on the roof to steady himself before he lowered himself to speak with you face to face. You smiled as his bright yellow eyes connected with yours, enjoying the familiar connection after so long apart.

"Neteyam!" You yelled out and leaped forward to give him a polite hug of endearment around his waist. Your touch immediately knocked the air out of him, forcing him to pick up the device again and lift the clear plastic mask to his mouth in order to get more of his indigenous air into his lungs.

After you pulled back, he responded by saying your name to you with a quirk in his ears as a sound in one of the distant labs caught his sense's attention.

You laughed merrily and then turned around to see that everyone was eyeing you both with astonishment. Perhaps being so friendly with the Na'vi had been a bit odd, but he had saved your life after all, and how were you supposed to know that this was the first time any of the scientists had seen Neteyam allow a sky person other than Spider to touch him? Even though on several occasions it was quite literally life or death.

"Uh, can you guys give us the room?" Max called to the other two foreign researchers in the room in hazmat suits.

They wasted no time in nodding and taking off, shutting the metal door behind them with the selected password to prevent any outbreaks. None of the regulars were used to seeing this son of Jake Sully's, and it was clear they were more than happy to steer clear from the hunter.

The silence that followed the departure was unnerving, and you felt the tension in the room spike as you spotted Neteyam's deadly longbow laid across the table behind him, probably at the demands of the other two who had greeted him at the door.

"So, uh, why are you here?" You asked, feeling the duo pair of eyeballs burning into the back of your head intensify as you continued speaking to Neteyam.

He understood your words and replied in Na'vi, which made you purse your lips as you nodded your head to show you had heard him before awkwardly turning to Norm, motioning for him to tell you what the boy had said.

Norm stuttered over his words for a minute before he replicated the sentence in English.

"He said he missed you and asked if that was a good enough reason", Norm's delivery lacked the mischievous twinkle in Neteyam's eye, but you paired the two together and grinned.

The warrior obviously had a sense of humor when lives weren't at stake, and it made you happy to learn more about the young man. He gazed around the room for a second before he seemed to register Max and Norm's presence, making himself nod at them respectfully before he returned to stare back at your body.

You were utterly at a loss for what to say. The angry man who had first seen you in the woods not long ago was banished from sight, and in his place was this smiley man that still had the means to kill you but had sought you out to simply say hello.

His eyes sparked, and he turned to his hip, digging his hand into a burlap sack he had attached there before he produced his closed fist and held it to you, watching your face peek in interest as his tail flickered madly behind him, hitting the metal walls.

You couldn't help the engrossment you felt, so just as Max was calling out for you to be careful, you pressed your significantly smaller hand into Neteyam's, and in response, he let his hand unfurl to present you with a gift.

It was a red stone that looked like a moving body of water had tumbled it for a long time. The rock shone under the heavy-duty lights above you, and with a timid move, you reached forward and picked it up from his hands, smiling as you thanked him for the gift.

He watched you admire it in your hands as you held it up to the light and stared at it in wonder. Neteyam could get used to amazing you like this.

He leaned one hand on his knee and the other on the floor to steady himself as he gazed at you with wide pupils that tried to take in all of your beauty.

You held the gift to your chest and bowed your head at him, delighting as he copied you without hesitation.

His smile faltered and transformed into an embarrassed throat clearing as his ears fluttered backward. He took his eyes off your figure and stared at the ceiling as his nose sniffed at the air as it had done upon his first meeting with you.

You thought back to the invasive manhandling he had done to you, and in response, you felt a heavy blush consume your face. You bashfully looked at the stone in your hand to avoid Neteyam seeing your face and reading your movements. You turned the beautiful blood-red stone over a few times before slipping it into your pocket and letting the weight drag the fabric of your pants.

Neteyam eyed the individuals behind you with a frown but chose to disregard them. He pressed himself closer to the ground to whisper something to you. He placed his head in front of your plunged face, which was determined not to look up to his eyes, and he softly mumbled something that made your blush deepen.

"Smell you?" His articulation was terrible, but the words still translated to you either way.

If he was being honest, the only reason he hadn't swept you up into his arms the second he saw you was because of the audience he was facing, but your fragrance was once again outpowering his freewill. He desperately needed to feel the fizz you activated in him before he went feral and ripped your clothes off to smell every inch of you.

You glanced behind yourself at Norm and Max, who were both still at a loss for words, but it seemed they were becoming more accepting of your friendship as you spent long minutes basking in one another's presence.

You swallowed nervously but nodded your consent to his touching.

His ears revived back up as he smiled smugly. He adjusted his body so he was sitting crossed-legged in front of you, his knees pressed against the sides of the short hallway, but he didn't care, instead, he focused on your facial expression as you very slightly looked to your left, allowing him a view of your neck.

He slowly inched towards you, giving you plenty of time to pull back and change your mind, but when you didn't, he moved forward, brushed his nose against your bare neck and rejoiced at the fact you still smelt just as strong as you did in his dreams.

He was nearly salivating at the scent, and he selfishly pushed himself deeper into your neck, letting his face push you around slightly while his body shivered at the properties of your touch.

He was doing everything he could not to let his hands roam around your body and investigate where you smelt sweetest, but his euphoric daydreaming was ruined by the sound of Max speaking to you in English.

When you answered back, he felt a sharp electric zap of possessiveness power through him. You were his mate, you weren't meant to be speaking to other men, and you were certainly not told to talk to other single men.

Neteyam growled something over your shoulder to Max and then picked you up gently and rose you to his body so he could set you on his lap. He placed your back against his chest and let his hands entrap your waist to ensure you kept still.

You yelped a little as you suddenly felt your feet leave the ground. Then you let out an 'oof' as Neteyam sat you on his thigh, allowing you to face the other men in the room as he mindlessly returned to bury his head into your neck, forcing your head to an unnatural angle as you nervously chuckled.

"Friendly guy, huh?" You asked the science geeks, but they were both looking at each other with scandalized stares, both more shocked than you had ever seen.

Neteyam’s grip on your waist tightened as he found a hotspot of sweat that was pooling in your neck. The sweet aroma nearly knocked him out with the jolt of pleasure it sent directly to his brain.

Max's jaw dropped while Norm let out an unbelieving chuckle, pointing to your two entangled bodies with an open hand and then back to Max as if to ask what was happening. If it was a competition between who was more aghast, you weren't sure who won.

"This isn't uh...this isn't a greeting used for friends y/n", Max tried to explain while beating around the bush as Norm was still unable to form a single word in English or Na'vi.

Your brow creased in confusion, but then you felt canines gently nip at your neck, and you squeaked as your hand flew up and grabbed onto Neteyam's forearm before you growled out his name in anger at his unchecked drunken actions.

Neteyam's hot breath fanned your neck as he grumbled out another line that nobody had translated to you yet, which worked to push you closer to the edge of frustration.

"What is he saying?" You asked as you squirmed away from his touch, only to have him drag you back into him and gently kiss your neck, making you scream as you let go of your motor functions and thrashed him off.

He pulled his head back with a scowl before once again he said something and let one hand off your waist so he could lightly pull your head back by your hair, allowing him access to freely rub his cheek around your jugular. You choked out at his harsh movements, but neither Norm nor Max seemed too concerned for your safety.

He rubbed his skin against your neck, and for a second, you swore you heard the deep rumbling of a purr thundering across the hallway, but Neteyam quickly cut it off with an embarrassed cough.

"He's uh, well, he's saying a lot", Max was even more flustered than you as he turned to Norm and nodded for him to take over the translation.

"He's trying to tell us to stay away, he's trying to scent you", Norm found his voice, and if you couldn't see the shock and slightly affronted stare he was holding with you through Neteyam's braids, you would have almost thought you were back in the lab and he was explaining the biology of the flower to again.

"Well, can you tell the knucklehead to knock it off?" You huffed with a provoked tinge to your voice as Neteyam let your hair go and returned to his original spot in the crook of your neck.

You would never admit it, not even on your deathbed, but the touch was welcome as his warm skin brushed against you and sent ravenous desire through your soul. The fact you had your colleagues standing in front of you as Neteyam touched you so intimately was really the only problem.

"Do you want us to lose a limb?" Norm tried to joke, but you didn't appreciate his humor.

The feeling of a hot, wet, velvety tongue being dragged from the base of your neck to your jaw made you whine, and the two older men's eyes snapped to Neteyam as you finally decided you had enough of being humiliated.

You ripped yourself from his grip and snapped your head to stare at him angrily, but he only chuckled and his deep voice rumbled through your core as another line came from his mouth. You had no idea what he said, but his hooded eyes and loving smirk tightened your core with a lustful tug.

You spun around again and let your rage spill over.

"Somebody better tell me what he's saying right now before I go crazy!" You yelled. Neteyam let his hands depart from your body and gave you the room to jump from his grip so you could stand with your back to him.

Norm stuck his hands up in mock surrender and shook his head.

"I'm not translating that one", he leaned over and smacked Max on the back for support.

The older man choked on his breath and stumbled to find the right words as Neteyam hungrily eyed your back in front of him.

"He's calling you his muntxa...his mate", Max looked fortified at his words and instantly dropped your gaze as you felt yourself cease entirely to exist.

You turned sharply towards Neteyam, and suddenly the gift, the smelling and the scenting all made sense. You could feel everything in you turn red with blush as you started wildly shaking your head and waving your hands above your head in an 'x' shape which yanked his wandering eyes back to your face.

"No muntxa! No thank you! Find a pretty Na'vi woman, okay? I'm not interested!" You shouted each word louder as if somehow he would be able to understand you if your speech became more pronounced.

"That's not how it works, you can't just turn him down" Norm tried to explain from behind you with an amused huff as Neteyam stared at your outburst in confusion.

He understood most of what you said, but why would you turn him down if you were his mate? There was no questioning that you were his because everything about you was made to draw him in, but it was clear you weren't happy.

His tail paused midair behind him, and he brought it forwards, testing how angry you were by letting the tip of the limb lay by your foot.

You stared down at his tail in curiosity. You let its presence leave your mind as you turned around and asked what exactly you had to do in order to get Neteyam to understand that you couldn't have been his mate because you weren't even the same species. But then you felt the whip-like extremity slowly curl its tip around your ankle.

You went to kick it off, but the tail only slithered further up until it was snugly wrapped around your thigh.

Neteyam's heart sang out as you looked down at the tail without movement, and while in reality, you were too shocked to move, he took it as acceptance and let his large hands creep over to gently grab you again.

"No, Neteyam!" You sternly yelled as his fingers barely grasped your waist.

He let out a long groan as if he were a child being denied a treat by his mother. He couldn't possibly see what the issue was. He pulled his tail back and spoke directly to the human men for the first time since his arrival.

"Why is she so mad, huh? Tell her I'm a good choice for a mate", he couldn't wrap his head around your stubborn unwillingness to let his hands roam where they pleased, and your denial was starting to vex him.

You listened closely as Max translated the interaction between Neteyam and Norm while they spoke to each other in Na'vi.

"It's not that she think's you're a bad choice, she just doesn-", Neteyam's impatience cut off Norm.

"Good, then she can be my mate", he truly saw no issue and was at a loss as to why you weren't all over him in the same manner.

Sure, you were human, and maybe it was odd, but over the week he had been apart from you, he had never felt so lonely, and that loneliness had fueled his courage to take his first steps into the laboratory. He wanted to see you and maybe even take you outside if that was what you wanted, but it was clear you were still getting used to him for now.

"Neteyam, she doesn't know anything about--", Norm was beginning to irritate him, and Neteyam looked over to you as he spoke his following words.

"I will teach her, she will learn", Neteyam didn't care if you didn't know anything. It wasn't of any issue to him.

He would have to protect you with everything he had to keep you safe outside. He wanted you close, and saving you would keep him busy, just how he wanted to be.

Neteyam left the conversation with Norm, much to the scientist's annoyance, and shuffled closer to you, forcing you to stare up at Neteyam as he stared down at you.

"If you want me to leave, I'll leave, but I won't ever come back and you won't see me again", his words were empty, and he knew it, but his hopes were that you wouldn't catch onto his poker face and you would answer in his favor.

Norm took a turn translating for you with a sigh as he knew that Neteyam was lying. The bond between mates was too much to abandon, and while Neteyam had clearly found his points of interest in you, it seemed to be that you hadn't latched onto any intoxicating part of him as quickly.

Your face fell into sadness at the idea of never seeing him again, but you drew your lips closed in thought, trying to debate what exactly to say.

Neteyam took your silence coldly and scoffed as he shook his head in doubt before he turned to leave, but you quickly jumped up and grabbed onto the end of his braid that had nearly smacked you in the face with his momentum.

"Don't leave!" You cried out while the men behind you gasped and quickly called out for you to drop the end of the knot, which you promptly acted in compliance with.

It was Neteyam's turn to freeze at your touch. You could feel that you had done something wrong, so you went to apologize, but when Neteyam's eyes met yours, it was as if he had love hearts in place of his eyes.

He went back to ignoring Max and Norm's attendance as he pushed himself to the floor and gently approached you with open hands so he could snatch you back up and return to his favorite place; your neck.

He didn't stick around long though, and after a quick fill-up of his addiction, he replaced you. He turned to Max to toss a comment at him before he stood up and jogged over to his bow before he swiftly departed as you called out to him, letting out apology after apology in fear it was your touch that had scared him off.

"I'm sorry! Look, I didn't know! Come back here! Ugh, you can't keep your hands off me when I tell you off, and then you won't come near me when I say I'm sorry? What is with you?" You yelled out, but nothing could stop the man as he ducked his head out of the door and set off to close the airlock behind himself.

"I'm confused, what did I do?" You cried out as you spun around, seeking answers, but Max only chuckled at you as he took his glasses off to wipe them on his lab coat.

"He's not mad, he said he has to go hunting for you, it's a Na'vi courting ritual, they bring you as much as they think you're worth in food", he acted as if this was a regular thing to say while you just shook your head in bemusement.

"He realizes I probably can't eat half the stuff out there, right?" You craned your neck to see the young man had already turned tail and was nowhere to be found.

"We'll have to see because there is no doubt he's coming back for you."

:Series 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁:

@faatxma, @nao-cchi @ellabellabus07, @neteyamforlife @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @heesoftiefreak @lixiesbrowniess  @eringaitskill @islamovice17 @sassy-persona @mashiromochi @jkeluv​ @uwu-i-purple-you​

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for pretending I cheated on my partner when our common friend asked why we fought?

It will sound fake and fictional, but please bear with me because I'm getting crazy over it. And also sorry for any english mistake, we're not from an english speaking country.

To give some context: I am a man. There was this person, B(m), which whom I kind of grew up with. We went through the same schools from our 6 years old to 17 but we never were really friends. Then, around our 13, I got into a clique that fed into all my bad habits and I started to actively bully B because he seemed like an easy target at the time. I enjoyed it and was encouraged to do so (because I was such an asshole and I'm not even cringing thinking about it, it's worse. I regret it so much and I was a stupid and bad teenager). It was so bad that after years of enduring it, B changed school before we graduated and I went on with my life.

It' was's been about 15 years ago that I graduated.

In the meantime, I dealt with some problems that I had with my family and I went through intensive therapy which changed me for the better, and I came to terms with my sexuality as well.

Flashforward to 2019/2020, I meet with someone online through some games and it goes very well. Thanks to the Covid and the lockdowns, we play even more and get closer. At some point, I talk about an event happening close to my city, and he tells me that he knows about it as well and that we're living close to each other. Because we enjoyed our time online (ngl, we had started flirting although I didn't know how sincere it was) we decided to meet at that event.

And there, I find out that my online friend is B. It's extremely awkward but only for me because he cannot recognize me for three reasons: 1. I changed physically with my puberty finally finishing the job after my 18 birthday, and I found some love into dying my hair. 2. I changed in terms of personality thanks to the therapy I went through. 3. My legal name was changed when I said goodbye to this fucking family of mine and left without turning back (but I was getting sick just saying my last name).

I, obviously, didn't tell him anything about who I really was because I just wanted to enjoy that evening with a friend, and we didn't see each other since he left high school because of me. My plan was just to slowly distance myself from him after that evening but it failed because we had a lot of fun and we actually really hit off and I was dying constantly at the idea that he could find out.

We've been in a relationship sicne the beginning of 2021 and I was decided to just never tell him (horrifying idea I know, anyone with a braincell would have told me that it was bound to be found).

A month ago, I met with an old friend from high school (so yeah, he was in the bullying gang but more of a followers, so we stayed in friendly terms when we both agreed that it was bad) and as he recognized B, he decided to excuse himself and hoped that B would forgive him like he "forgave" me (I never got to tell that friend to shut up about that) so yeah, B found out that I was his main bully who had lied to him for almost 4 years now.

We had quite a big talk about it. How bad my bullying ended up for B; why I lied like that and never admitted it. And even if it went alright, B told me that he needed a break to think about things and it's going to be one month that I'm crashing at a common friend of us. At first, I just said that B and I got into a fight and it was good enough, but as it's been already a month, the friend asked more about it. Not wanting to bring up B's trauma to someone else (especially after our conversation), I just told the first lie that came to me and pretended that I cheated on B and he found out.

Now that common friend is calling me an asshole and keeps reminding me how much they are disappointed in me to have done something so horrifying to B. I keep wondering if I did well to lie like that, or if I should have found another way out.

[lowkeyremi]

Haikyuu men as fathers pt 3.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Ft. Sakusa, Iwaizumi, Kageyama, and Osamu.

The age range of the kids will differ for each character but it’s from babies up til like 17 or 18 (also sometimes I model the parenting off of the way my parents were w me n my little sibs lol)

CW: Indication of pregnancy, relationships, marriage, certain styles of parenting,

Enjoy lovelies <33

………………..

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

The panic on his face is pure gold. “Babe… Babe she’s drooling on me!” You whip out your phone so fast. “Smile for the camera, Kiyo!”

He’s pouting, but you don’t really care. Not after you told him to grab her bib because she might drool. He insisted that ‘my little girl won’t drool on me.’ And now here he is panicking about it.

It’s not that he minded her saliva… it’s that he’s in uniform because he wanted to hold Kokomi before heading to work.

Your nine month old daughter is clapping her hands at her dad. You’re sure she finds this whole ordeal hilarious just like you do.

“Stop recording me and get the bib. It’s gonna get on my uniform.” He says with his eyebrows furrowed. “What happened to ‘oh she won’t drool on me’ I thought you didn’t need the bib.” You mock your boyfriend of three years.

He frowns and sets Kokomi onto the floor. “Go crawl to mommy, yeah?” She immediately starts crying and you knew this would happen. Your baby is most definitely a daddy’s girl.

“Kiyoomi, pick her back up. She wants her daddy.” He glares at your statement because you’re still mocking him. “This is not funny.” He states. Just as you were about to make a comeback Kokomi took the both of you by surprise.

She was crying and crawling over to Kiyoomi, “Da- DAA!” Both your eyes widen at the realization that’s she’s saying ‘da da.’ You open up your phone and press record. “Kiyo! Make her say it again.”

“I can’t just magically make her say it.” He says sarcastically and you roll your eyes. “That’s not what I mean! Start walking away I’m sure she’ll say it again.” Kiyoomi walks very slowly so she has time to catch up by crawling and sure enough she says it again, “DA DA.”

You stop the recording and clap your hands. “Good job, princess! That is da da!” Kiyoomi picks her up and wipes her tears with his hand.

“Don’t cry little one, da da’s right here.” He assures her and she claps again.

And for the next couple of weeks all Kiyoomi heard was “da da.”

Sure you were bummed she didn’t say “mama” first, but guess what? You aren’t the one who has to go help her when Kiyoomi’s around because all your little princess wants is her “da da”

He’s so sensitive abt her, for example he cries on her first birthday because “she’s growing so fast”

He teases you for being jealous of your daughter, but you can’t help it! She’s getting all his attention :( (he tends to you later <3)

He seems like the type of dad to sign his kid up for a bunch of sports/activities so he can try to find something for her to become good at

He has tea parties with her, she loves when you play the charming prince and kiyoomi plays the pretty princess 😂

OMG whenever she has nightmares he’ll follow her back to her room and sleep in her bed w her (you keep telling him he’s gonna break it lmfao)

Doesn’t let her date for a LONGGGGG time

He spoils her absolutely rotten

He cried tears of joy when he saw his little girl walking down the aisle being the cutest little flower girl at your guys’ wedding

SUCH A SOFT DAD, she’ll ask for something and you’ll give him that look so he’s like “N-no.” And she gives him those eyes and he’s like “baby, how I can say no to those eyes?!”

Iwaizumi Hajime:

“HIGHER DADDY, HIGHER!” Your seven year old daughter screams as Iwaizumi launches her into the air and catches her.

“Sato has to have his turn, pumpkin.” He sets his little girl down and comes over to you with grabby hands for his son.

“He’s one Haji, that might scare him.” You reason. He takes him anyway and you shake your head.

He throws Sato up into the air, it’s not too high. He catches the chubby little baby and you wait for the crying. It never comes though, because you hear your little boy giggle.

”What’d I tell you, sweetheart?” His face is smug because he was right.

“Daddy lift me up too! Mommy says you’re very strong!” She too has grabby hands. “Oh really?” He says smirking. The brunette lifts up his daughter so he’s holding both children in his arms.

You’re staring, hard. You and Iwaizumi have created a beautiful little family that’s bound to grow bigger at your surprise.

“Take a picture, Mommy. It’ll last longer.” His tone is laced with smugness. “Yeah yeah.” You roll your eyes. Even though his statement was meant as a joke you pull out your phone and take a picture anyway.

As he’s about to set them down you stop him, “wait we gotta get one more with me in it!” You say walking over to them to take a selfie.

“We don’t want our other little one to feel left out, now do we?” It takes him a second to realize what you said. It was too funny not to document his response so you snap pics of his surprised face.

“You’re pregnant?!” He says in shock. “Yeah, thanks to somebody.” Your daughter is next to speak.

“It’s because of the baby fairy, right?!” She asks excitedly.

Iwaizumi laughs, “yeah, the baby fairy is bringing you another little sibling.” Iwaizumi explains with a big smile on his face. You want to flip him off but not in front of the kids.

He’ll take his little girl to the gym (and his son when he gets older) and use her to do his work outs (She’ll be on his back while he’s doing push ups, “five more, Daddy!”)

teaches his children the importance of health

i can see him empowering his daughter and telling her if someone hits her then she has permission to hit back

sometimes he misses his children’s events but he’ll make up for it with something fun

He seems like the type to want a lot of kids (enough to have his own little volleyball team lmao)

He’s always telling them to not be like their uncle oikawa

ALWAYS taking pics of the little cuties

Idk what it is abt him but Sato it his only boy, something abt him just makes me think he’d have almost all girls 😂

Invested in a suv so he can drive the kiddos to school

such a fucking dad boss, he goes to all the parent teacher conferences, etc etc.

I’m 1 mil percent sure he makes his kids wearing matching pjs and they love it at first but they hate it when they get older lmao

he’s the strict but nice dad (pretty chill until one of the kids fuck up or if he isn’t a fan of something)

Not only does he get on his kids for eating junk food he nags you about it too

has all his kids stuffies names’ memorized “daddy! Popcorn has a boo boo!”

he’s big on family outdoor trips (you suggested glamping and he told you that’s such an oikawa idea and your fam is gonna do camping the right way)

Hesitant on letting his kids use technology, he didn’t want them to become fully dependent on tech (they aren’t 🫶🏾)

Kageyama Tobio:

“That’s my boy. When you’re setting you don’t want to slap the ball up with your palm, it’s more like slightly tapping it with your fingertips, uhhh does that make since?” Kageyama tries to explain to his twelve year old.

“I think I get it?” Kaito says in a questioning tone. Kageyama scratches his head. “I wonder when your mom will get home with the girls.” Kageyama thinks aloud.

Kaito shrugs and returns to practice setting the ball. He’s done it a few times and Kageyama praises everyone of his sets, even if some of them are really crappy.

“Dad, you don’t need to praise the bad ones. It doesn’t make me feel better. If you praise my trashy work then I’ll settle for being trashy.” Kaito explains to his father. Kageyama puts his hands on his hips, his face turns into a smirk.

“If you want real practice don’t get upset when I criticize every little thing. You know I’m nit picky when it comes to volleyball.” With that he removes his hands from his hips. His steps were even and he asks his son for the ball.

“Mom says you’re bitchy about volleyball. She says it’s gotten better though.” Kaito says, meaning little harm. He knew that would get Kageyama riled up.

“Huh? You’re joking, right?!” Kageyama’s squeezing the volleyball and Kaito is suppressing a laugh.

“Well she says that’s what uncle shoyo says and she agrees with him.” Kageyama mumbles something about you and Hinata. Kaito is sure it’s something along the lines of, ‘I’ll show them a true bitch.’

Kaito gets some good practice in, mainly because his dad is somewhat upset.

You’re finally home with your twin daughters who are two. You find your husband and eldest in the backyard together playing volleyball.

“Kaito, you’ll be as good as your dad one day!” You praise seeing the results of Kageyama’s practice with him.

“What’s this talk about me being bitchy when playing volleyball?” Kageyama confronts and your eyes immediately land on your son.

“Kaito! You cannot keep a secret for the life of you, huh?” You say with a chuckle.

“I get it from you, Mom.” He says seriously.

“Babe, it’s nothin serious. Just a small observation of Shoyo. It’s not supposed to be in a mean way.” You try to coax him. He isn’t having it though.

He starts fussing so you tell Kaito to get his sisters and take them to go play with toys.

As soon as they’re out of sight you walk up to your husband and give him a warm, loving kiss.

“Tobio, you are not taking this to heart right now,” a small chuckle leaves your lips. “As your wife I make comments about you all the time cuz you know as well as I do that I mean it in a loving way. I’m still not over you calling me a swelling balloon when I was pregnant!” You rant, the ending part of your rant earns a snort from your husband.

“You’re my swelling balloon.” For some reason that almost sounded sexy but you aren’t going to let it slide. You give him a playful punch.

“Can you guys quit being saps?” Kaito yells from the door.

“It’s your night to help potty train.” You say with a wink and Kageyama groans.

If he sees his child showing any interest in volleyball he’ll do his best to make his kid a next gen star

he despises that you make the family match for holidays and you send the photos out to family

He lets his kids run around butt naked when they’re little (until you scold him)

he wouldn’t see the problem in letting the twins have ice cream for breakfast

he learned how to do hair so he can braid his little girls’ hair 🥺

he and his son argue abt the dumbest things (got that Kageyama and hinata energy)

Also the competitive dad who wants his kids to be better than everyone else’s kids

he will literally bully any little kid to the point where they cry if they mess w his kids

I don’t think he’d freak out when his daughters start their period he’s just like “okay. I think ur mom has pads somewhere 🧍🏻”

Miya Osamu:

“Pa! Come quick!” 6 and a half year old Haruki yells from the bathroom. When Osamu hears him he comes running up the stairs and into the bathroom.

“The heck ya doing in here? Yer ma’s gonna tear ya a new one!” Osamu examines the mess his son has made with finger paint. “I was trying something, Pa. Then my tooth came out cuz I was wigglin’ it!”

It isn’t until his son says that sentence that he notices there’s a small empty space in his mouth where his little tooth should be. “Huh? This yer first tooth?” Osamu asks.

“Pa, I been talking about this darn tooth for weeks!” His son responds with sass.

“well ‘cuse me for forgettin’ little man.” Osamu says with a roll of his eyes. This boy has got your attitude big time.

“You stay right here, ima go get ya some warm salt water. Don’t ya move.” Osamu warns as he goes to fetch some water for his son.

“So I can’t even breathe?” He asks sarcastically.

“Quit bein’ a lil smart aleck.” Osamu demands with a little bit more strictness in his tone. He’s usually pretty laid back with his son but sometimes Haruki hears the way his Uncle ‘Tsumu talks to his dad and he thinks he can talk that way.

Osamu runs down the stairs to the kitchen and scrambles around for a cup. He finds the salt and sprinkles some in. He puts the cup in the microwave for about a minute and it feels like the longest minute of his life.

“Hurry, Pa! The blood’s gettin’ everywhere!” Haruki yells out of worry.

Osamu retrieves the cup from the microwave and stampedes up the stairs to the bathroom.

“Here, swish it. All of it.” He commands.

“Pa I don’t wanna swish all this salt water it won’t taste good.” He explains to his pa.

“Do ya want the blood to go away or nah?” Osamu asks and Haruki shakes his head yes.

Your mini me began to swish the water as Osamu cleaned up the bathroom.

“Yer lucky I saved ya. Shoulda told yer ma ‘bout the mess you made.” Osamu snorts.

“Do ya think my baby sister will look like you or ma?” Haruki asks instead of thanking his father for cleaning his mess.

“I reckon she’ll get my beautiful eyes that drew yer ma to me n my thick brows.” Osamu says proudly puffing his chest.

“‘s not the only thing ma calls thick.” Haruki mutters which makes Osamu look down to him.

“Whaddya mean?” He asks his eyebrows scrunching up.

“She always talks to Uncle Rin ‘bout how thick ur butt is but she says it with two c’s at the end instead of T-H-I-C-K. What does the one with two c’s mean, Pa?” Haruki asks out of pure curiosity.

Osamu’s face goes red and he covers his face.

“It don’t mean nothin’ at all son. Don’t listen to what yer ma says that’s just her talking crazy.” Your husband explains.

“So when she tells me to go to bed-” Osamu cuts him off.

“I outta pop you for how smart yer acting.” Osamu says firmly.

“Sorry Pa, I’ll stop.” Haruki has a cheeky little smile on his face. He knows Osamu isn’t going to do anything. You handle all the discipline.

Osamu’s phone buzzes loudly in his pocket and he takes it out to answer it.

Osamu’s face goes still and then his eyes about pop out his head. “Slow down honey one word atta time.” Haruki hears you yell over the phone.

“We’re on our way right now.” Osamu says in quickly.

“Let’s go pack yer bag Haruki, yer staying with Uncle ‘Tsumu.” Haruki doesn’t move a muscle but then his dad gives him the look that says ‘do not test me right now’

“Is Ma okay?” Haruki asks his dad slightly worried.

“As okay as you can be goin’ into labor.” Osamu responds. For Haruki’ age he’s an advanced child but he’s picked up on the twins vulgar language and their accent. He knew what it meant when Osamu said you went into labor.

“My sister’s comin’?!” He asks excitedly.

“Mhm, now go pack yer bag. Ya need three shirts, three pairs of pants, some underwear and matching socks. Yer uncle will take ya to school. If I don’t come get you within the next three days just ask yer uncle to wash yer clothes. We’ll most likely see ya tomorrow but yer gonna stay with yer uncle to yer ma’s outta the hospital.”

Osamu explains all at once. “Okay Pa!”

let’s his kiddos get away with a lot more than they should

teaching them to cook was like his favorite thing to do

he lets you handle the punishments because Osamu is a soft dad

Whenever atsumu is over and you aren’t around he’s swearing like a sailor to his brother and his kids pick up on it 😭

100% a cuddler (Haruki acts like he hates it but he doesn’t)

idc what y’all say but he takes his daughter shopping like prom coming up? He’s there when she’s trying on dresses

no phones at the table enforcer (believes in quality family time)

he was relieved to not have twins like his brother did 😂

always teasing Haruki (for example he hates seeing u guys kiss so Osamu purposely kisses u in front of him just to upset him lmao)

the poor man tries his best w homework but geometry doesn’t make any sense “why are there shapes in math ya only really need to know how to add, subtract, multiply, n divide”

something just tells me he has a bird feeder and he enjoys drinking his coffee in the morning (little ones have hot chocolate) and watch the birds come and eat

[spngi]

My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue

part 1 | part 2

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings: Grammar mistakes, citation of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating

Carlos Sainz Jr was a true gentleman, a loyal and kind companion, a loving lover. A captivating man who won me over at first glance, with his chocolate-colored eyes and million-dollar smile. I didn't know who Carlos really was until I became deeply involved with him, until I realized I loved him so much that it wouldn't make any difference if he were a prince, a fisherman, or a mobster.

I met Carlos at the art gallery where I worked in Madrid; he was charming, affectionate, and too perfect to be true. He made efforts to create perfect dates and show all the affection he had for me; loving Carlos was as easy as breathing.

He was always very open about his feelings, his plans for the future, but he avoided revealing what his job was as much as possible. I tried to guess, after all, there aren't many job options in the market that could justify a huge mansion and the need for many security guards around him, but I never succeeded.

It took him a year to open up about his illicit activities to me, perhaps pressured by fate with subtle gestures. Before I could find out on my own, Carlos came clean.

I loved him deeply, but a woman has her limits and there are things I can't tolerate. I loved him infinitely, but thinking about all the things he did or was involved in made me sick. I had to overlook many things to be with him because, after all, I loved him, and that was what mattered, right?

"A monster is not a monster when you love it." This phrase was never more true. Carlos was never a monster to me, even after he told me all the terrible things he had done. I would still love him anyway.

Carlos loved me for five years, loved me while we timidly got to know each other, loved me when I tried to leave his life, loved me with all my mess when I moved into his house, loved me on our wedding day as we shared tears, loved me through three wedding anniversaries. But he didn't love me when I had to mature, when I realized that in the life we were living, you either bite or get bitten, when I realized that staying clean-handed would only bring me grief and sadness.

He began to distance himself gradually: the bed seemed too far away, he kept his hugs at bay, stayed late at the office to avoid sharing a bed, left early from our house to avoid breakfast together. I spared no effort to keep him close, planned dinners he would make excuses not to attend, tried to surprise him at the office only to be chased away. Then came the day he decided to move rooms. I was startled to enter the room we shared, where we had been so happy, now empty, without his clothes, without his pillow, without his bath products.

It hurt too much to see him so distant. He claimed he needed time to think, but there was no emotion in his words. We were both scared of what had happened in the previous months. After the incident where they tried to hurt me, I needed my husband's help. I wanted him to protect me, I needed his support, needed to be strong like him and not just his helpless wife.

Even after all my efforts to make him love me again, he never returned to our room. Then the girl came into the story. A woman's intuition is funny; I knew the moment he came home on a certain day that he had found another woman. Even with all the moments I tried to change Carlos's mind, using every possible means and humiliating myself more than I would allow at any other time, nothing stopped that moment from arriving.

"What is this?" I ask, not daring to touch the envelope in front of me.

"They're the divorce papers, y/n..." Carlos sighs, appearing for the first time in a long time for breakfast. "I tried to be as fair as possible, but you can look at them and then we'll negotiate."

"There will be no negotiation, Carlos! Because there will be no divorce," I reply, trying to stay firm. This day seemed close, but something in me still refused to believe it would come. Something in me refused to accept that I would have to divorce Carlos. This was just a phase, something that happens to any couple; we didn't need to be extremists.

"Y/n... please, be rational. We can't prolong this; it's the best way out for both of us," he tries to negotiate.

"And I disagree with your opinion. My God, Carlos! We're talking about our marriage! You didn't even try to give us a chance," I respond, frustrated.

"There's no solution anymore, y/n..." he murmurs to me, and that breaks me even more.

"I won't sign them, Carlos," I push the envelope away from me. The wedding ring gleams on my left hand with the movement, a simple touch of irony to the whole situation.

English is not my first language.

Leave your comments and opinions ❤️

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Hearts [S. R.]

Young!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

and by public demand, part 2

summary: an intern pesters Spencer to get his attention and you help him get rid of it a bit, benefiting in the process.

A/N: here we go! started watching criminal minds last week and i'm halfway through the first season so expect a lot of content as I progress with the series. Spencer Reid from season one is the cutest thing I ever looked at

If you want to be added to the taglist just tell me, and if you have ideas, send them!

You'd think FBI offices would be quiet at night, but the truth is, with so many agents and interns reporting to do, the night seemed to be the busiest time.

After spending three months there you had almost obtained your own desk and knew most of the people, especially the BAU team whom you had been assigned to support for your internship. Since you began your university studies, you had wanted to work in that FBI unit and when the opportunity presented itself you were extremely excited, but now that it was a reality, you could realize that the workload was unimaginable and heavier than you expected. Still, with any luck, proper schooling, and practice you could be aiming for a permanent position in maybe two or three years. For now, being there as an intern was more than enough.

You were so engrossed in reading your computer screen that you didn't hear when the office door opened and it wasn't until a figure sat down next to you that you realized who it was.

You and Spencer Reid met many years ago, when you were both in middle school, in Las Vegas, and from that moment on you could appreciate what a prodigy he was. He was a very serious, quiet, and shy boy, but for some reason you always enjoyed his company and, judging by the fact that he never left you, you thought he did too. On some occasions you exchanged books that he returned to you in two days and you kept for a few weeks, you talked during some school breaks, you asked him for help with homework, and on more than one occasion you went so far as to defend him verbally from those silly children who bothered him; in general, you had something close to a friendship. You never thought that after so long, and so far from Las Vegas, you would see him again, much less in the condition you were in right now.

"Hey," you greeted him kindly, showing him a tired smile "What are you doing here?"

"I was finishing an analysis of yesterday's case," he replied. The team had had to profile another pyromaniac and for just a bit they had managed to catch him, which had left them somewhat tense "And you?"

"A report" you answered simply. You had the hypothesis that those kinds of activities ended up in the hands of the interns because they were extremely tedious and they wanted to get rid of it.

Reid wasn't much of a talker if the occasion didn't call for it and you knew it, so it wasn't too strange that he would only sit near you to watch you work, although there was something different about him tonight that alarmed you.

"You think I'm dumb?" he asked suddenly, forcing you to look up at him.

"You? Are you asking me if I think Doctor Reid is dumb? you asked, emphasizing his title, but he gently shook his head.

"Not in that sense, but like... weird or something."

“We all are a little bit. And that's not so bad” you said sincerely. You knew that on some occasions Spencer would ask questions and all you had to do was wait a bit for him to tell you what the doubt was about.

“And do you think…?” he started to say, a little unsure "Do you think I don't have a girlfriend because I'm that weird?"

"Who told you that?" you exclaimed more directly. You imagined that this concern could only arise from someone having suggested it, as had already happened on other occasions, and it still touched you a little that he had the confidence to assist you for that kind of thing.

"No, no one in particular"

"You know, I think you don't care about having or not having a girlfriend" you ventured to say "Was it Morgan?"

“No, not him,” he hastened to say, thinking a little about his next words, “Uhm, that girl from the department next door…”

"Victoria," you cut him off, rolling your eyes in anticipation and feeling the heat already rising up your cheeks. She was a typical mean girl; long black hair, tall, always wearing expensive dresses, high heels, and fake smiles. You'd met this girl during internships and it took you a couple of weeks to make you feel uncomfortable around her, but you finished hating her when you realized how intent she seemed to be on embarrassing Spencer every chance she got. The fact that her father was a department head made it a bit difficult to deal with any situation. "Why do you care what she says?"

“She is… persistent”

"You know she only does it because she wants to get your attention, right?" you explained, a little fed up with the situation and how he was always affected by what others said about him.

It was clear that from the beginning she had her eye on the young man, and on those days, she would walk around the office and try to start a conversation with Spencer, which he never carried out. When she noticed that her attempts were useless, she began to make hurtful comments that became recurring as the months went by, since it was the only time when she could receive any kind of attention from the brown-haired man. Spencer frowned, quite confused by the situation when you told him that, since apparently he hadn't made the same account of the facts as you.

"What are you talking about?"

"She likes you" you insisted, as if it were something obvious, although it didn't seem so to him. You could almost see how the gears in his brain were struggling to find a degree of coherence between the events that he had been ignoring for a long time.

"Then why does she say such horrible things to me?"

“It's because…” you mumbled, closing the lid of your computer and looking for a way to explain to the boy. It was amazing how he was the most intelligent person you knew and at the same time he would come to you to ask such banal things like that "she is a stupid girl who has had everything in life and since she isn't capable of having an intelligent conversation with you, she thinks that being mean is going to get your attention. It's like those kids who pulled your hair in elementary school," you muttered, trying to present an analogy, but he didn't react in any way “She probably only told you that because she wanted to know if you have a girlfriend, not because she really believed it.”

Spencer took a moment to absorb that, wondering how that made sense, since for him the fact that you liked a person implied being kind and attentive, not behaving as Victoria did with him. But you had read the signs from the beginning and that was probably another reason for your dislike for your internship partner, who you thought was unworthy of being attracted to someone as cute as him. Although during high school he hadn't been the most sought after by girls, now he was quite handsome and that shy and polite attitude made him even more attractive, at least for you. Besides the fact that, of course, it was a genius who you were talking to.

"And why didn't she just ask?" he genuinely murmured and you couldn't help but giggle.

"I don't know, when we like a person, we do stupid things"

"Do you really think she likes me?"

"Of course, what reason would there be for her not to?" you mumbled and he just looked away, as he did most of the time, while he shrugged, which made you think that maybe this conversation was more serious than you imagined "Do you like her?"

"No! Definitely not” he said right away, as if he was offended “It just seems strange to me that you say that”

"Say what?"

"That someone likes me"

"Oh, please," you breathed, completely incredulous. "You're charming, Reid, I don't think she’s the only one who likes you”

"Do you think I'm charming?" he said, slightly skeptical. You loved his reaction to any compliment he received. 

"Sometimes" you lied. Actually, you thought he was charming all the time "Besides you're an FBI profiler, don't you detect that kind of thing in girls?"

"It's harder to analyze women than criminals," he argued, making you chuckle slightly.

Suddenly the report you had to make was forgotten and you wished you wanted to spend more time with him, although you didn't know if he would be willing to do the same. It was one thing to be together at work and another very different thing was that he wanted to be with you personally.

"Do you have anything in particular to do today?" you exclaimed cautiously, so the question allowed him to politely get rid of the invitation if he wanted to. You held back your urge to smile when he said no, attentive to what you had to say “Do you want to go to my apartment? If I'm still here I'm going to have a migraine and I think you should relax for a while too”

“Go to your apartment?” he asked, just to be sure, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, like… order some pizza, and… do you like wine? I have wine at home. And we can put on thrillers and see who can figure out who the killer is first”

"I would beat you"

"You think so, Reid?" you said, challenging his strange burst of confidence, and Spencer nodded playfully, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. "I'll buy you your week's coffee if you beat me" saying this, you knew full well you didn't stand a chance, but if a couple of dollars spent on coffee would get you a few extra hours with him, you were willing to accept that.

"It's a deal" he smiled and in less than ten minutes you were out of the offices.

As expected, you lost the game, but you couldn't say you ended the night disappointed. At first you didn't even know why you invited him, because outside of that neighborhood park in Las Vegas, you'd never spent any time alone. Spencer was all shy at first, always sitting up straight and hugging his briefcase, but when you broke the tension he relaxed considerably. The wine helped a bit because, although he confessed to you that he didn't drink often, you two ended up with a bottle of red that you had in the cupboard; not too much to lose consciousness, but enough to get gigglier. Even Spencer's ever-dapper outfit was thrown into disarray, as he'd loosened his tie and removed his vest to deal with the rise in body temperature the alcohol brought on. As promised you had pizza for dinner, which he refused to let you pay for, and in the process you put on some of the classic movies you found, according to google, making sure neither of you had seen them before. That night you were tempted to tell your partner that he could sleep over there if he wanted, but you had to say that a hint like that might make him uncomfortable. You didn't want to break the magic of the moment.

So the next morning you walked into the Quantico offices more energetic than usual, holding a couple of glasses of coffee on a tray.

"Good morning, Y/L/N" Morgan greeted you, as you approached the BAU work area, where Hotch and Elle were also present.

"Good morning, have you seen Spencer today?"

"I suppose he arrived, but I haven't seen him"

"I think he hid in the kitchen"

"Why do you ask?" muttered Morgan, who was probably the gossipiest of the three and also the most teasing. You knew, unfortunately, that if you didn't tell him, he would question Spencer, and you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

“I bought him a coffee. We made a bet last night and I'll be buying it all week"

"So you're trying to make him fall for you, huh" he exclaimed, completely ignoring your explanation, so you decided to play along.

"I think I'll need a few more months for that" judging by the man's laugh, you knew that the answer had satisfied him. You wondered if it bothered you that Spencer might misinterpret that joke as fact, but at the same time you wondered if it really was something that bothered you enough to deny it.

You walked down the aisle looking for the brown-haired boy and greeted a few people along the way, until, as if by divine grace, you looked at the man’s back and at the same time heard the click of heels, which you already knew quite well, going in the same direction.

"Spencer!" you called him before Victoria could tell him anything, and he turned with that awkwardness that characterized him showing a small smile when he noticed that it was you.

"Hello"

“You better not be making your coffee,” you murmured, getting close enough to hand her the cup you brought on the tray and making sure Victoria, who was making her own drink, would overhear the conversation. “I hope you like it. Sweet as you"

"Thank you," he replied, slightly embarrassed by the compliment you'd just paid him. He peered into the cup and frowned “Why did the barista write a heart next to my name?”

“It wasn't the barista, it was me”

It took Spencer a moment to sink the words in, and then he looked back at you with a confused expression.

"And why did you write a heart next to my name?"

You couldn't help but contain a laugh and Victoria, who had been attentive to the entire conversation, contained an angry sigh when she saw you extend your hand to the boy's bicep to give it a squeeze, taking the opportunity to get a little closer to him.

"I hope to repeat last night sometime" you muttered ignoring his question "I really had fun"

"Me too," he said, faster than you'd expect, and you smirked to notice that she was right next to him, her jaw clenching angrily. Without Reid realizing it, that talk could be completely interpreted as you've had a sexual affair, and not only that, but you were looking forward to it again.

"I'll see you around, right?"

"I think so" he replied. Spencer took a sip of the coffee you bought him, as if he'd just remembered it, and took a moment to savor it, closing his eyes in the process. You tried not to be distracted by the afterimage of him licking his lips. "I love it, what's with it?"

“Huh-uh, I won't tell you. If you want to drink it, you will have to ask me” you replied playfully. You thought that perhaps, at some point, he would become uncomfortable with your indiscreet flirtations, but when he smiled at you and looked away, you knew he was actually liking it. And if Spencer liked being fawned over, you weren't going to put up a fight.

"Thank you"

"It's nothing, doctor. Good luck on your day" you said goodbye, showing him the most beautiful smile you were capable of manifesting.

After that you made sure to look Victoria square in the eye as you left, confident that if she tried to say something rude to the profiler again you would confront her yourself and finally got lost. She looked at him, utterly offended, and then did the same, leaving behind the cup of coffee she was preparing to lock herself in the office and be grumpy all day. But Spencer didn't even notice any of it, as he was too busy looking closely at his heart in his cup to get any idea of what it might mean.

[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 6 - Transaction Action

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn’t exactly considered classy, Stolas.)

"Stolas wants you don't get mad", he blurts out. "What do you mean Stolas wants me?"

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word Count: 12,920

Warnings: threesome, afab!reader, unprotected sex (don’t do that y’all!! also this does NOT lead to a pregnancy or anything like that lol i fell for that in a fic once and i hated it so don’t worry abt that), making out, dry-humping, dirty talk, fingering, Stolas has a cloaca (like in canon), Blitzø purrs, hair-pulling, feather-pulling (?), tail play (?), use of blindfold, physical restraint (no ropes, just.. tails again lmao), light choking, stolas is very submissive, penetrative sex, standing sex, sexual tension, name-calling, light degradation, dom/sub undertones, squirting, i think that’s all. this chapter is basically just sex honestly.

When Blitzø called you up into his office only a few minutes before you were supposed to go home, this was not where you’d thought the conversation would be going. You could have imagined it would have something to do with his whole situation with Stolas, judging by the weird suggestive way he asked you to go and the fact that the full moon was just the next day, but, then again, that was Blitzø, and that wasn’t really anything abnormal.

But when he sat you down on his chair, circled behind you and offered you a fucking shoulder rub (which, what the fuck?), you knew something was up. “Okay what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” He retorts.

“Blitz. What did you do?”

“Why do you think I did something?”

“You would not be giving me a fucking massage right now if you hadn’t done something.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to get you in the mood… ‘s it working?” He half-heartedly tries some flirty humor.

“Blitz.”

He sighs. “Okay I did do something.”

“Oh what a surprise!”

“But it wasn’t like. Well I didn’t do do something. I just did something.”

“What does that fucking mean?”

“Stolas wants you don’t get mad,” he blurts out.

“What do you mean Stolas wants me?”

He sits down on top of the desk in front of you so he can face you as he speaks. “Well you know the thing I have with him?”

“Not exactly, it’s really fucking confusing.”

“Not that confusing. We use his little magic spell book-”

“His Grimoire.”

“Yeah that. We use that in order to have I.M.P. happen and everything. And I bring it back to him every full moon.”

“Yeah and where does the whole sex thing come in again?”

“Well it’s like. Uh. It’s like an exchange, you know. He lets us use the book, which is kind of a little bit very illegal but ya know he’s royalty he won’t get in trouble or something like that, I don’t know, and in exchange I have sex with him.”

“Like just once a month?”

“Like just once a month,” he repeats in confirmation.

“That is-”

“Fan-fucking-tastic, right?”

“Not exactly what I was gonna say. But sure.”

“Well it is. And guess what? Stolas wants you to… participate… in our activities.”

“Stolas what?”

“I told you! He wants you.” Blitzø smirks, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“What? No.”

His expression falls immediately. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean, you can’t just go offering sexual favors in my name! I’m not some fucking sex doll!”

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“No I didn’t, you just asked me not to.”

“Look I didn’t offer it, he just asked for it!”

“Well then tell him no! I see this guy all the time for years and sure he’s hot or whatever but he’s so composed and polite and never shows any fucking ounce of interest and now he pulls this?”

“I mean you’re not awful to look at. Maybe he’s been thinking about it all this time. Maybe all those years he’s been jacking it off to you in his-”

“Well this is not the way to go about it.”

“He just told me to ask you. It’s supposed to be a ‘non-pressure ask,” He says, in air-quotes, “but, like, he’s a prince you know? And we need the book.”

“Does none of that sound concerning to you?”

“Not really,” he shrugs. “It’s just what I do.”

Your mind wanders to yourself a few years before and you wonder if it would be wise to accept a deal like this. You wonder, too, if you should talk to Ozzie before deciding on it, but then again… you kind of didn’t want to have that conversation. And would it be so bad to hook up with two hot guys and get something you needed out of it? You realize you were sounding just like Blitzø. Or just like… 

You shake the thought away. This was different. “What about us?” You find yourself asking.

“What about us?”

“How would we go about this? Isn’t it gonna be weird?”

“What? No way. We’re just gonna be friends who… sometimes… fuck the same guy… at the same time. And that’s it.”

“Is it… good? Like is it good at all with him or just like. A ‘get it over with to get what you want’ kind of thing’?”

Blitzø averts his eyes to the floor, hesitating before giving you an answer. “Best sex I’ve ever had. But don't go telling anyone that.”

“Well shit.”

“So, you in?”

“I... the full moon’s tomorrow, right? Can I… think about it?”

“As your boss? No. But as your friend… sure.”

“Wow. So caring of you.”

“Yeah yeah call me mother Talita or whatever.”

“Mother what?” You stifle a laugh.

“Mother Talita? You know, that… nun or whatever.”

“That’s Mother Theresa, dude. And she’s been down here.”

“Yeah well so am I.”

“Well, am I dismissed, sir?” You mock him, putting on a stupid accent, trying to ease the tension up.

“Sir, huh? I can work with sir.”

You smile. Has it been that long since that day you met?  

[. . .]

Millie looks confused when she opens her front door to find you on the other side of it later that day. Well, not day anymore, technically. A little later than that. And a little later than later, too. 

Alright, it’s the middle of the night and you’re sort of, kind of, panicking. A lot. 

“Y/N? E’rythin’ alright?” She yawns, clearly woken up by your knocking on her door.

“I know you were sleeping, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine. Something happen?”

“Not really. Well not yet.”

She raises an eyebrow, curious. “Come in, girl.” She walks you inside and the two of you sit down, facing each other, on the purple couch you always compliment her on. Moxxie comes out of their room, rubbing his eyes and barely awake. “Sweetie everything-“ he yawns. “Everything okay?” He doesn’t even register the fact that you’re there, eyes barely open.

“Yeah Mox. Y/n’s just here to talk.”

“Oh. Hey.” He finally fixes his eyes on you and gives you a little wave.  

“Hey Mox,” you wave back.

“‘S it a both of us talk or a Millie talk?”

“Millie talk.”

“Okay. I’ll be,” he vaguely points back to the room, his mind clearly still foggy from the sleep. You feel bad for waking them up like this, but it’s not exactly the first time something like this has happened, be it you showing up at their door at late hours to talk to either or both of them just like this, or one of them (both too, once) showing up at your place instead. “I’ll be right. There.” 

“Sure, Mox. You can go back to sleep now, alright? I’ll be right back,” Millie tells him with a fond smile, and he nods before walking back into the room, closing the door behind him to let the two of you talk. 

“Okay. Ya wanna tell me what’s going on now?”

“Blitz asked me to do something and I think I’m gonna say yes but I really don’t know if I should ‘cause it’s a little bit insane.”

“Oookay. What’d he ask ya to do?”

“Well not just him. Apparently- apparently Stolas-“

“The prince guy?”

“Yeah, the prince guy. Apparently he wants to make the deal they have like… a three person thing.”

“What?” She asks loudly, voice pitched up. 

“Yeah. And apparently he asked Blitz to ask me to participate tomorrow.”

“They want you to like… fuck ‘em?” She makes a crude gesture with her hands, trying to confirm she understood you right.

“… yeah.”

“Well shit!”

“I know!”

“And you wanna say yes?”

“Is it crazy if I do?”

“A little!  I get that you wanna fuck Blitz but you’re sure a threesome with this royal guy is the best way to do that?”

“Hey! I don’t wanna fuck Blitz!”

“Y/n. I love you. I love Blitz.” She pauses, trying to make a point. “You two wanna fuck so bad it’s painful to watch sometimes.”

“That’s not true! And we both agreed waaay back when we met that we wouldn’t. That’s why we’re such good friends!” You exclaim, as if what you’re saying is normal and even obvious.

“Again, I love you. Very much. But I don’t need to keep fighting some urge to fuck you so that we can stay friends, ya know. That’s not normal.”

You go quiet. The point she’s trying to make is fundamentally right, and so there’s really not anything you can say to dispute it. You know that. 

“That’s not the point here! I think I want to say yes, just see where it goes maybe. But what if we’re right? And then we fuck and things are weird and I’m just involved in this situation.”

“I think you’re giving it too much credit. Things could get a little weird but it’s not like it would fuck up your friendship.”

“You don’t think it would?”

“Not if you don’t let it. But I’m a little worried about the threeway part of it. This isn’t Blitz asking you out. You know that, right? It’s Stolas asking to fuck ya. Through him. He’s like. Just a part of it.”

“I know. And I don’t want Blitz to ask me out, by the way. Alright? And yeah obviously this feels a little weird. But the guy’s hot and I’ve always noticed that. And don’t tell him I told you this, like ever, but Blitz says he’s the best sex he’s ever had.”

“Blitz said that?”

“Yeah! I think I’m just curious.”

“Girl, you know what you wanna do already. I dunno why you even came here.”

“I want your opinion!”

“My opinion is you wanna do this so do it! But maybe don’t commit to like… a forever kinda deal ya know. Do it once and see whatcha think.”

“Okay. Yeah. That sounds… smart.”

“ I never said I thought it was smart, it’s dumb as shit!” 

[. . .] 

Blitzø was already in his office when you got to work. Well, obviously. You’d passed up on the carpool this morning, choosing to walk this time instead. What was weird, though, was the fact that the place was so oddly quiet at that time of the morning, when usually there would be some sort of argument between Moxxie and Loona going on, or some weird client explaining their whole life story to Blitz somewhere, or even Millie training in the middle of the office. 

Millie and Moxxie weren’t there, though. Strange. “Where’s everyone?” You ask Loona. 

“The two fuckfaces went up on their own.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “Don’t ask me. Blitz told them to. Said he’d go for a different target with you when you got here.” 

“‘Kay. Thanks.”

You walk up to his office, knocking on the door. It was closed, which was also weird. He almost never left it closed unless he had a client in there, which Loona would’ve probably told you about. “What?” He yells from inside.

“It’s me.”

“Oh. Come in.”

You do. You open the door to find him sitting on his chair, hands behind his head and feet over the table. “So?” He asks, and you know he’s referring to your answer to what he proposed the day before. Alright, straight to the point then.

“D’you think I could go tonight and see how it goes? Before, you know, committing to the whole deal thing and all?”

“I mean I guess?”

“Tell him I’m doing that,” you assert yourself.

He doesn’t seem to have any complaints about it. Quite the opposite, in fact. “So… ya wanna get ready at my place? I can help you relax a little  before we go.” He grins, doing that stupid thing where he wiggles his eyebrows up and down. 

“Stop making things weird!”

“Learn how to take a joke, bitch!”

“Learn how to be funny, asshole!”

[. . .]

At home, you’re feeling nervous. What the fuck had you even gotten yourself into? What had gotten into Stolas to request you participate in the agreement anyway? You’d barely ever exchanged that many words in the times you’d seen each other throughout the years. 

Still, there you were, getting ready to fulfill his wishes.

Well, if you were doing this, you should dress to impress, right? You convince yourself that’s what you’re doing, but really you’re just trying to compensate for the anxiety by dressing nice and at least feeling hot. 

You smile at your reflection in the mirror: you look nice.  It’s been a while since you’ve gone out with anyone. Well, not that this was going out. It’s still been a little while since you've hooked up with someone, too, though. You sit down on your bed and grab your phone, noticing you got a text from Millie. 

mills: how u doin?

You send her a selfie as a reply. 

mills: DAMN U LOOK HAWT

you: thank u!! u really think so?

mills: duhh?? bur r u sure ur ok w this?

you: i think so

mills: thats not a yes

you: if i get uncomfortable ill leave promise!  right?

mills: right.  so. u finally getting it on w blitzzzzzzzz 😏😏😏😏

you: ew bye millie!!

mills: aw cmonnn

you: no!! bye!!!

No getting into that subject. Millie has been adamant about pointing out the sexual tension between you and Blitzø for ages now. And, just as you could admit the night before, it’s not that you don’t notice it, or even that you were in denial about it being there- you were denying any acting upon it. And it was working out great, in fact! It’s what made you two such great friends, right? And tonight you were throwing years of that self control out the window. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

You tried not to dwell too hard on that, as there’s plenty of other things to think about at the moment, and you click out of Millie’s contact and on Blitzø’s instead. 

you: im ready can you come get me???

He takes a few minutes to reply.

blitz(n)o: ON MY WAY

[. . .]

“Shit” is the first and only thing he says as soon as he pulls up outside of your apartment complex, checking you out.

“What? Is it too much? I thought it was simple enough.” You look down at your outfit as you get in the car- a black tank top, lacy black bra peeking out, and simple, plain black shorts.

“No it’s simple. Pretty uh. Pretty simple,” Is all he says before turning his head to face forward, beginning to drive.

What did that fucking mean? “Okay.”

He changes the subject. “So! Ya ready for the time of your life?”

“I don’t think you understand how much I’ve fucked before.”

“I don’t think you understand how good I am.”

“Sure thing, Blitz.”

“Oh don’t act like you haven’t been thirsting for this dick for years now.”

“I most definitely haven’t.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“And what do you hear?”

“What I hear is that my dick must be good.”

You cringe as you remember the moment. You were wondering when he’d bring that up again. Though you hoped he’d forget about it, you know him, and you know he wouldn’t. “Oh come on, that's low, it was a slip-up.”

“You said it though.”

“You can’t prove it.”

“I have witnesses!”

“Will you shut up?”

“Oh no, I’m gonna talk about this forever and ever and ever and ever and-“ 

“Shhhhh I wanna listen to some music,” you turn on the radio, trying to get out of the conversation, and tuning into one of the Wrath stations. You sing your hearts out to a few songs until you get to the palace, and then your mood immediately shifts- this is real. This is going to happen. It feels thrilling, but it feels weird, too. 

“Come on, we gotta get in through the balcony.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Why?”

“I- uh- cause… his wife. Well, ex-wife? Or whatever.”

“His wife’s here?”

“No, she leaves with his daughter when I come over.”

“So why would we get in through the balcony?”

“Well the servants!”

“He’s a prince, Blitz, can’t he do, like, whatever he wants?” 

“Look, we just gotta. ‘Kay?”

It doesn’t really seem up for debate, so… “Okay.” You follow him, and rather ridiculously climb up Stolas’ balcony, feeling like a fool. When you get up there, Stolas is sitting on his bed, tapping his foot, waiting for you. His eyes light up when he sees the two of you. 

“‘Sup, Stolassss?” Blitzø greets him.

“Hello Blitzy. Y/n,” he stands up to greet the both of you, immediately flustered over your presence. He's definitely never done anything like what you’re here to do ever in his life.

“Your Highness.”

“Oh, Please no, what have I told you? None of that.”

“Sorry. Old habits. Hi, Stolas.”

“That’s much better, darling. I like it when you say my name.” Oh.

“I brought her like I said I would, ya fucking perv,” Blitzø smirks.

“Uhm. I can see that, Blitzy.” He looks over to you. “Are you alright with this, dear?”

“Yes, I think.”

Stolas tilts his head to the side. “You think?”

“I’m not really sure why I’m here, honestly. You never really… showed any interest before.”

“My apologies, darling. Things were… a lot more difficult, then. But I have always noticed you.”

“I’m not that sure if I believe you, but-”

“Would you let me show you, then?”

Oh shit. “Yeah. Okay.” You nod, a little more enthusiastically than intended. 

“Hey I’m feeling a little left out here,” Blitzø complains, arms crossed over his chest. 

Stolas lets out a chuckle. “Is it alright if he joins us, dear?” He asks softly.

“Bitch I’m the one who actually knows her!”

“I am only checking in with her!”

“Let me check in with her!”

“Very well, then, go ahead!”

“It cool if we threeway?”

You let out a laugh at his wording. Ever a poet. “Sure.”

“Nice. See, Stolas?”

Stolas chuckles again, and sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. Blitzø follows, sitting down too, but leaving the spot between them empty. He signals for you to come sit with them. Blitzø leans down, pushing your hair out of the way so he’s granted access to your neck. As he begins kissing the spot right under your ear, Stolas grabs your hand, holding it in his. 

“Wait.”

They stop moving altogether. 

“What, can’t take it? We barely started!” Blitzø jokes. 

“It’s not that, asshole. Let’s just not get straight into it, yeah?”

“Shit, okay. You like to watch?” He grins, and you don’t have the time to respond before he lunges over at Stolas, grabbing him by the collar of his vest and pulling him into a hungry kiss. 

Stolas seems taken by surprise at first, but quickly lets himself get lost in it, wide eyes closing and startled expression relaxing. At first the kiss is only that- hungry. But as the moments go by you see it morph into something else- they look like two men starved, ready to devour each other whole. They move against each other aggressively, messily, over you, with Stolas cupping Blitzø’s jaw with both of his hands and Blitzø pulling hard on the feathers on the back of his head. Once in a while you can catch a glimpse into the way their tongues move against each other, desperate and careless, and it’s fucking hot. 

“Fuck,” you find yourself mumbling under your breath at the scene, unable to hide the way it’s got you all hot and bothered, and the two men pull away from each other, both out of breath. 

Blitzø smirks, very obviously enjoying the reaction they got out of you. “So. Like what you see?” 

You only nod.

“Wanna try it out?”

You nod again, slowly. 

“Use your words, dear,” Stolas urges you, and fuck it’s delicious.

“Yes.”

“Wanna put on a little show for birdy here?” Blitzø grins.

“Yes,” you repeat yourself. He’s so gonna give you shit for the way you’re acting right now after you’re done.

But right now he’s almost sweet about it. “Come here,” he tells you, expecting you to lean in. You do. 

Blitzo kisses you abruptly, with no time for you to think twice of it. He kisses you fervently, slowly, taking his time with this kiss that feels long overdue. Honestly, thinking back on it, it feels crazy that, with the sheer amount of sexual tension between you, you’d never even kissed before, despite the constant half-jokes about everything you half-seriously wanted to do to each other. It had always seemed like a line you shouldn’t cross- one you wouldn’t be able to come back from. And you suppose you were right: there was no way things could go back to normal after this. You could act like things were normal, but there was no way in hell you’d be able to forget whatever was about to happen. 

This was a problem for future you, though, because current you is busy enjoying every second of this.

He smirks into the kiss, and you can’t even get yourself to complain about his smugness like you normally would. Instead, you reach over around him, twirling his tail around on your pointer finger, hoping to get a reaction out of him. He lets out a kind of whimper you’d only ever heard animals make, clearly unprepared for that. You’d want to make fun of it, if only it didn’t sound so fucking hot and if only it didn’t seem so fucking enticing to have him whimper for you. You’re filled with the urge to make him do it over and over and over and over again, which sucks, because there’s no way you’ll be able to hold a normal conversation with him with those sounds to be remembered.  He pulls away from you, though, as soon as he catches himself making the noise. 

“Damnit, woman, gotta give a guy a warning!”

You shrug, half-apologetically, and the both of you turn to take a look at Stolas, who has his eyes open impossibly wide- all four of them. His mouth hangs open and there’s a very visible pink flush on his cheeks and it looks so damn cute and it’s making him look so very, very fuckable right now. 

“Was it a good show, Stolas?” You ask, trying to get a reaction from him.

Stolas can only get himself to nod slowly, as if lost in a trance. The look on his face makes you want to eat him right up.

“Well. Do I get a show?” Blitzø asks, and a surge of boldness rushes through you, pushing you to crawl your way onto Stolas’ lap, tracing your fingers along his face and his beak and looking up at him through your lashes in feigned innocence.

 “What do you think, Stolas? You think he deserves it?”

The prince gulps. It’s exhilarating- to have a fucking Goetia prince under you gulping in anticipation to have you. It’s been a while since you’ve let yourself feel this sort of power over someone. “I… believe it’s only fair,” he responds.

You nod in agreement, pleased, and pull him to you by the collar of his tailored vest. Kissing Stolas is obviously pretty different from kissing Blitzø, but different definitely isn’t bad in this case. It’s a lot more tongue, which makes sense. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been wondering what it was even like to kiss him, considering the, you know, beak. But his hands were planted on your hips and his tongue was moving against yours and he wasn’t desperate in such a way that rushed things too fast, but he was still so clearly eager with the way he kissed you like he’d run out of time that it got you stunned. Fuck, all thoughts that could still linger of this being a bad idea were getting thrown out the window by now- you’d deal with those later. 

“Okay okay I get it,” Blitzø complains, interrupting the moment by pulling you away from Stolas by your hair. It makes you freeze in place on the demon’s lap. Did he really just pull on your hair right now? You try to blink the shock right off your face, and maybe the fact that it might have turned you on for just a second, but it’s there long enough for Stolas, who’s staring at you with wide eyes, to notice- you can see it in his expression, like he was making a mental note of it, but he doesn’t mention it out loud. 

“That’s rude! What’d you do that for?” You scold.

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t like it, I heard ya tell Millie you do. And the two of you got too many clothes on for a proper show.” You decide to brush off the first comment as to not freak yourself out- you know what conversation that came up in and you did not want to think about the fact that he’d apparently overheard it. Instead, you focus on the latter.

You look back at Stolas, who’s been awfully quiet since Blitzø’s interruption. So much for ‘using your words, dear’. “Actually I think so too. You agree, Stolas?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes!”

You and Blitzø share a look at the reaction, both grinning. 

Blitzo wants more, though- he wants to prove to you just how dirty Stolas is, how you should have believed him when he told you about it. “Come on, you can do better than that, Stolas. Don’t be shy now. Tell us what you want.”

“What I want?” 

You nod eagerly, encouraging him. 

Blitzø moves closer, settling on kneeling behind Stolas, voice dropping an octave as he coos at his ear. “You can talk to her like you talk to me. She ain’t no saint.”

“Really, Blitz?” You raise an eyebrow at the comment.

He looks up at you. “What? You’re the one already on his lap.” Okay, yeah, fair enough. 

“So? I can bring out the toys if you want. Just say the word, Stols.” Blitzø urges him. You take a mental note of the nickname to ask him about it at a later time. 

Stolas hesitates for only a couple seconds before describing the most dirtiest, filthiest ways in which he wanted to be fucked. You find yourself wanting to fulfill them all as he talks to you. “I want you to fill me up with your fingers. I want it so badly. I have fantasized about it. You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this, for how long. Want to gag on Blitzy’s big cock, I want to hear you while he thrusts deep into you, you need to know how perfect it feels. I just want- I- I don’t know what I want, I- I-”

“Fuck.” Blitzo breathes out.

“Fuck.” You reapeat. Fuck, indeed.

A new sense of eagerness runs through you and compels you to move to unbutton the buttons on Stolas’ vest that you’re sure are all made out of real gold. Blitzø seems to be in the same line of thought as undoes his cape from behind him. Why was he even wearing the fucking cape for a scheduled hookup? Whatever, it just needed to be off, off, off. You both move at what feels like it could very much be the speed of light to undress him. 

Hearing what Stolas fantasized about had clearly turned the both of you on beyond comprehension, and every ounce of rationality was getting thrown out the window by the second. The clothes you’d taken off of him were blindly thrown somewhere in the room, leaving him only in his pants and underwear, and as much as you did want them off too, you didn’t have it in you to get up off of his lap yet. “Fuck, Stolas. Few months ago I wouldn’t have thought you had that kind of mouth.” You ground your hips against his, experimentally, trying to gauge his reaction.

He didn’t seem to be expecting you to do that, his hips betraying any tries he could make at seeming unbothered by it as they seemed to involuntarily thrust up to meet yours instantly. And then he fucking hoots. Incredible. He covers his mouth when he realizes the sound he made. 

“I told you. He’s a filthy fucking whore.” Blitzø says, still behind him. Stolas gulps at the insult. He likes it, you realize. 

You run a hand through the feathers on his chest, keeping the other on his shoulder, and you can feel him shiver under you. Blitzø keeps on, speaking in that low voice that wasn’t even directed at you anymore but still gave you chills, bringing his hands to pull Stolas’ down from your hips and on the mattress, on either side of him, trapping them firmly there. You get the idea- and it fills you with anticipation: if things keep going like this, you’re sure to have an utterly helpless Stolas between you. The image your mind conjures of it alone is already breathtaking enough to leave your mind foggy. You roll your hips against his again, and again, settling into a painfully slow pace just to tease him.  “What’s up with that, Stolas? The lady thought you weren’t even into her! Acting all polite and shit and then going home and jerking it to her. That what you were doing?”

Stolas doesn’t reply, and you could have mistaken that for him being uncomfortable, if only his body wouldn’t keep betraying him. Blitzø has learned how to use that condescending, mocking tone to get the prince going, having turned it almost into an art form at this point with the way he seemed to know exactly what to say and how to say it to tug on his strings.  He closes all four of his eyes, breathing growing more erratic as he grinds back up against you, pointlessly chasing what you purposefully simply won’t give him enough of. 

“It’s okay if you did, Stolas, baby. You can tell us,” you coo, as if taking pity on him. The truth is seeing him like this, all flustered and pathetic, was something you came to find out you enjoyed- very much so. 

He opens his eyes- only the lower ones- and stares at you with them wide. “Only- only sometimes.” 

“Oh, did you now? Poor thing! Did you hear that, Blitz?”

Blitzø lets out a mocking laugh from behind him, still trapping his hands in place. “So pathetic. I bet you jerk it to the thought of our last full moon too, don’t you, Your Highness?”

Stolas doesn’t reply, once again. You halt all movement at the lack of response, as you’ve come to realize teasing him is beyond fun. “Come on, answer him, Stolas.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I knew it. You’re a fuckin’ mess, Stolas! Look at your feathers all ruffled up. So pathetic. ‘S it the girl on your lap or the guy right behind you, huh?”

Stolas completely ignores him. “Your- your clothes. I’m the only one undressed here.. They should be off too,” he pleads, eyes closed once again. 

“Which one of us?” You ask.

“Both of you.”

“Oh.”

“Fine by me,” Blitzø shrugs, freeing Stolas’ hands from his grip and taking off his jacket, revealing a button up shirt and… are those suspenders? You restrain yourself from making fun of them so as to not ruin the mood. You’ll make fun of them later.  He takes the shirt off swiftly and begins to unbutton his pants, too.

“This what you want me to take off?” You inquire, pulling on one of the straps of the black top and tilting your head to the side. It’s pointless to ask, really, and you know that- there was only so much for you to take off, unlike the two freaks who were practically competing for the most clothing layers in hell. Truth is, you just want to make him say it. 

 “Yes,” he affirms, pulling at the hem of your top. “Please.”

You nod, pulling it over your head and discarding it somewhere on the floor next to the bed. You take your time, not missing the opportunity to make a little show of it. “Better?”

“So much.” He breathes out.

“Holy fuck I’ve always dreamed of seeing those,” Blitzø comments, staring profusely and unashamedly at your chest. You’re still wearing the pretty black bra you’d picked earlier, and you let out a genuine laugh at the reaction.

“Shut up- ” Whatever you were about to say next dies out as Stolas places a kiss on your collarbone with no warning. 

“What, you don’t think it’s true?”

“Oh, no, I believe you.”

“Cocky bitch.” 

“You- fuck-“ Stolas nips at a sensitive spot on your neck, just under your ear. “You asked, you pri-” you suck in a breath as he runs his tongue along your throat.

“Hey now, we’re trying to have a conversation here,” Blitzø scolds him. “They don’t teach you it’s rude to interrupt at prince school?” He mocks, and his tail ascends to Stolas’ neck, entailing itself around it and tugging on it. It pulls Stolas’s face away from your body and leaves him gasping for air, and, fuck, it’s hot. “Where was I?” He asks you nonchalantly, tail still squeezing Stolas’ throat just enough to make his breathing erratic. “Telling you how many times I imagined what it’d be like to bury my head in your sweet, sweet-”

“Pervert.”

“Joke’s on you, insulting me only turns me on more.” The spade of his tails lifts Stolas’ chin up, forcing him to rest his head back on Blitzø’s chest.

“Why does that not surprise me- will you quit staring at my boobs?”

“I mean it’s kinda hard when they’re like right there. And where’s that energy for the pigeon here? He hasn’t taken his eyes off ‘em since you took the shirt off. And he’s got four of ‘em.”

You look back down at Stolas, who not-so-gracefully makes a point of directing his gaze somewhere else. 

“You been staring, Stolas?”

“No.” It comes out breathy, the sound threatening to not even come out given the hold of Blitzø’s tail on his throat.

Blitzø scoffs.

“It’s okay if you were.”

“Hey!” Blitzø complains. “I’m being treated so unfairly here!”

You ignore him. “Did you get a good look?” You card your fingers through Stolas’ hair before caging his face in your hands.

“What do you mean-”

You pull yourself off his lap altogether and he whimpers at the loss of contact, immediately muttering out apologies for staring at you. You just can't believe how easy it is to make him so submissive, such a mess. 

“I’m not punishing you for staring, Stolas. I just think you got a good look already. Don’t you wanna take a good look at Blitz too?” Blitzø raises an eyebrow at you as you lock eyes, silently questioning where you plan on going with that. 

Stolas doesn’t have to be told twice, and turns his head, and only his head, to look at Blitzø , in almost a full 180° turn. It’s freaky, and not the sexy kind of freaky- scary freaky. 

“Geez don’t fucking do that!” Blitzø releases the demon from his own tail’s grip on his throat. “I was gonna let you move!”

Stolas whips his head back into place and turns his whole body to face Blitz this time. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

“Yeah I noticed.”

Stolas doesn’t look embarrassed by what just happened the same way you noticed he’d been when he let out the compromising noises earlier, and you chalk it up to a single reason- he’s too busy ogling at Blitzø’s almost naked body. You get up off the bed, walking to the other end of the room, where Blitzø had left his bag. Rummaging through the collection of sex toys he’d brought in it, you were positive you’d find what you were looking for somewhere in there- and you do.

“The fuck are you doing?” Blitzø calls out.

You wordlessly hold up the blindfold in reply, putting the other stuff back inside the bag before turning around to face them, only to see both men staring at you intently. “What?” You ask, walking back towards the bed. Was this like a wrong move, or something?

“You wanna use that?” Blitzø asks you.

“Well it’s not for not me, is it? It’s for Stolas.” You explain, casually, and said demon chokes on his own spit. 

“Me?”

“Well, yes. I think you’ve stared enough for now, haven’t you? You don’t think we can take care of you? Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

His cheeks burn a flaming pink hue again and you wonder once again if what you���re suggesting is actually welcome, your confidence faltering for a second. “Have you guys never used it? I thought-”

“Oh we’ve used it alright. I think the pretty bird here’s just a little overwhelmed. Is that right, Stolas?”

“You’re just… so forward, y/n.” It sounds like it’s a good thing, judging by the way he says it. You still want to make sure, though.

“Is that an okay thing?”

“An okay thing?” Stolas repeats, as if even thinking of questioning that is completely stupid. He crawls over to the edge of the bed, where you stood, and sits pretty on his legs with his back to you. “Please do it. I’ll behave, I’ll let you take care of me.”

Okay, green light. Very hot green light. 

“Oh, Stolas. I’m sure you will,” you place a kiss on the side of his neck, eyes locked on Blitzø’s as you do so. He, in turn, looks elated, eager for what he knows is coming next.. Whatever you were doing, it seemed you were on the right path, with both of them. You bring the soft black fabric over Stolas’ eyes, tying it up behind his head. Blitzø stares curiously at you when you make eye contact with him again. “You wanna play?” You ask, a devilish smile directed at him.

“Fuck yeah.” 

Silence takes over as Blitzø takes his time crawling over to Stolas on all fours, anticipation building inside all three of you by the second. He sits on his own legs, mirroring Stolas’ position, and places his hands on the prince’s knees, pushing his legs open. You can hear Stolas’ breath hitch. Blitzø moves closer now, kneeling between his legs and resting his hands on either of his thighs. Stolas immediately places his own hands on top of the imp’s and leans forward, trying to pull Blitzø into a kiss. Blitzø leans back and clicks his tongue in response. 

“Stolas I thought you just said you were gonna behave.”

“I am!”

“You’re not, though, are you? Do I have to spell it out to you? You don’t call the shots here. You touch me when I let you.”

“O- okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He retracts his hands, placing them by his sides once again.

“I don’t know, I’m not very convinced.” He looks up at you. “Think you can hold him for me, sweetheart?” He challenges. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” The words leave his mouth and go straight in between your legs. You can’t help the way it sends shivers up your spine. Blitzø turns his attention back to Stolas. “Come here, Stolas, let’s leave some room for the lady, huh?” He gets into a sitting position and pulls Stolas onto his lap in such a quick motion it makes him gasp.

You kneel on the bed behind Stolas and look up expectantly at Blitzø. As much as Stolas isn’t calling the shots here, neither are you, you realize.

“Now let’s try again, shall we?”

Stolas nods and Blitzø finally pulls him into a kiss once again, hands firmly planted on his hips. You can hear their moans as they make out in front of you, the sinful noises filling the room, and if this were a scene in a movie you’d be replaying it nonstop. Their tongues dance against each other in pure, lewd, lust, and you’re so entranced by it that you almost miss Blitzø’s hand snaking itself down Stolas’ pants. The demon on his lap jumps in surprise, the hands he’d so obediently been keeping to himself involuntarily flying to Blitzø’s biceps. 

Blitzø immediately retracts his own hands from Stolas’ body entirely, and Stolas mutters what you think is a ‘fuck’ as he realizes what he did wrong. “It wasn’t fair, you didn’t warn me-”

“Nuh-uh, I gave you another chance already, Stols. I think you need to be taught some manners.” He looks up at you and signals to Stolas, and you blink a couple times before you catch onto what he wants you to do. 

You lean in closer, your front now flushed to Stolas’ back, and reach to grab his hands- one with your own and the other with your tail. Bringing them both to his back, you bind them with the tail, securing them together. It leaves your hands free, and you take the liberty to grab Stolas’ hair and pull on it, forcing him to lift his chin up, making him let out a shaky breath. Blitzø didn’t ask you to do that, but you’re sure he’ll appreciate it. You sure are.

“Now we’re talking. Can’t disobey now that you’re being held back, can ya?”

“I’ve apologized-”

“Ah-ah-ah. We’re past that already. And I don’t think you really are sorry. Ya wanna know what I think? I think you want to be held back. I think you want to be helpless.” 

Stolas takes a gulp instead of responding.

“Let's see if this way you’ll behave like a good little slut, huh?” Blitzø grabs Stolas’ face with both his hands and pulls him into a kiss that isn’t just desperate, but brutal this time around. Stolas’ little moans are delicious, and you watch over his shoulder as Blitzø snakes a hand inside his pants again. Like the last time, Stolas tries to move his hands, but your hold on his wrists restrains him from doing so. “I still feel like you’re wearing so much. Don’t you think we should take this off?” He pulls on the waistband of Stolas’ pants.

“Please do.”

Blitzø grins and looks at you. “I don’t know… What do you think, y/n? Think he deserves it?”

You lean down to whisper in Stolas' ear. “You think I should tell him you’ve been trying to move?”

“No. No, I won’t do it again. I swear.”

“Yeah, I think we could put him out of his misery.”

“If you think so,” Blitzø pulls on the waistband of Stolas’ pants and underwear again, prompting the prince to lift up his hips so they could be taken off, leaving him completely exposed. You find your position a shame right now, only able to see what you can over his shoulder, and decide you just have to switch it. You let go of your tail’s grip on Stolas’ wrists and let your hands off his hair, moving to kneel by Blitzø’s side, now able to see the whole picture, and it’s a sight to behold, Stolas’ naked body on top of Blitzø’s, his eyes - all four- hidden by the silk fabric.

“Holy shit.”

“What, couldn’t contain yourself?” Blitzø mocks.

“I’m the one who’s new to this.” 

“Oh yeah! You are! You wanna give her a proper show now, Stolas?”

“Yes! Yes.”

“You can touch me this time.”

“Oh thank fuck-” Stolas mutters out and immediately wraps his arms around Blitzo’s neck. He ruts his hips against his once, tentatively, trying to gauge any sort of response now that he’s been granted permission to. When Blitzø meets his thrust, he lets out a relieved sigh, and begins to grind onto him in a crescending rhythm, finally able to get some friction in his own accords. 

The second Blitzø starts purring, you’re done for. You don’t even really think before your lips are on his neck, and your hand rests on his chest, and his lips meet Stolas’ as they keep their pace against each other, and in a matter of seconds it all becomes a mess of entangled limbs and breaths and lewd noises. 

Your lips graze Blitzø’s earlobe for a second and one of his hands comes flying off of Stolas’ hips to your hair, pushing your head back down. “Do it again,” he demands, eyes closed and breathless, and you oblige, kissing up on the side of his neck until you get to his ear again, biting lightly on it, causing him to instinctively pull on his grip in your hair, and making you let out an involuntary moan directly to his ear. He thrusts up hard against Stolas at the noise, the purring growing louder. Stolas yelps at the change in pace, fast, brutal and utterly dirty now. “Come on, Stolas, you can give me one before we get more far.” 

Stolas’ face scrunches and you almost think he’s going to correct Blitzø’s grammar before he simply nods, ignoring it and leaning further so his forehead meets Blitzø’s, and it actually looks sweet. There’s no time for being sweet. 

You grab Stolas’ face, roughly pulling him to face you, and his movement falters. “Don’t stop, Stolas. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You nod, pleased, squeezing his cheeks until his mouth is forced open and pulling him into a torturing kiss, slow and sensual and downright vulgar. A promised, he doesn’t stop his pace against Blitzø, who meets him with equally eager ruts of his hips, but doesn’t look nor sound nearly as fucked out as he does. Blitzø presses two of his fingers directly to Stolas’ hole, and, though he doesn’t insert them or even move them, the friction from it in between their bodies as the moved in sync seemed to be enough to turn Stolas into an even bigger mess, mouth parted as he let out the most impossibly filthy, delightful  noises, barely able to kiss you back properly. 

“I’m going to- I’m- Please, please, please, let me-” he’s so gone you’re not even sure he can register what he’s saying, how he’s begging. And he’s begging for permission, you realize. 

“You make the call,” Blitzø tells you. “Think he deserves it?”

“I’m not sure,” you taunt. “You think you’ve been a good boy for us, Stolas?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything!”

“Good, good boy. You can cum, Stolas. Can you cum for us?”

Stolas nods furiously, pace increasing to be impossibly more desperate, and you watch in awe as Blitzø inserts two of his fingers inside his hole, going back to thrusting into him right after. The noise of his fingers moving inside of Stolas, along with the breathy moans he’s letting out, is so pornographic it makes you blush- Stolas is so fucking wet that Blitzø has no issue inserting them entirely inside, though he’s still careful with it, curling it up in such a way it has Stolas letting out an animalistic screech. You can see he’s just on the verge of finishing, and decide you can put yourself to good use to help, snaking your tail up to his neck and wrapping it tightly around it, now aware that he likes that, but still in such a position that you can have a clear view when he cums- and oh, when he cums! 

The wet noises fill the room along with Blitzø’s grunts and Stolas’ utterly sinful moans, in sync with the way their hips meet and Blitzø’s fingers go deeper and deeper inside him each time. The sight is glorious, from Stolas’ semblant of pure ecstasy to the way he drips onto Blitzø’s fingers, hips faltering more and more as he loses himself while the orgasms hits him, leaving it for Blitzø to pump his fingers inside him a few more times so he can fully ride it out. 

You retract your tail from his neck as he rests his head on Blitzø’s shoulder, jumping up at the stimulation when Blitzø moves to retract his fingers from inside of him. Blitzø wordlessly offers them to you, and you silently open up your mouth, tongue out and all, so that he can place them inside. You run your tongue over his fingers, coated with Stolas’ fluid, looking at Blitzø through your lashes. You give them kitten licks, enjoying the way he seems affected by the sight. “Suck, bitch,” he demands, and you don’t even have the willpower to determine if you care about the name-calling or not, only doing as he says and sucking his fingers dry obediently. He looks pleased by it. “Ya hear that, Stolas? She’s tasting you on my fingers like it’s her last fuckin’ meal. Bet you wish you could see that,” he mocks, and Stolas shudders at the thought. You pull away with a soft ‘pop’, licking the remnants of the liquid from your lips. 

“Don’t be mean, Blitz,” you coo, moving to untie the fabric in the back of Stolas’ head. He takes a couple seconds to lift his head up from Blitzø’s shoulder, eyes slowly opening to take in the view of the two of you. He blushes slightly, and his eyes travel down to where his groin meets Blitzø’s, gulping at the sight of his cum all over Blitzø’s underwear. He’s sure he’s ruined it, but doesn’t have the heart to care. He can just buy him a new one. 

“Are you alright, Stolas?’ You ask him, softly, as he comes back to his senses. 

“Yes. Yes, thank you, thank you.”

Blitzø smirks. “So, Stols. Anything, huh?”

“I- uh-” Stolas stumbles over his words, embarrassment washing over him now that he’s come down from chasing his high. “I-”

“Are you backing down, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that,” Stolas scolds him. “And I still don’t know why I am the only one undressed.”

“Cause it’s fun,” you chime in, chuckling at his expression. 

“You a pussy, Stolas?”

“No- I’m- will you not call me that?”

“If you stop acting like one.���

“What do you want me to do?”

“Now that’s more like it.” He grins, pleased. “You’re gonna eat her out, and I’m gonna watch.”

“What?” You’re the one to ask. 

“What, don’t think I didn’t see your thighs pressed together while you watched us. I could bet you so much money that you’re dripping wet just from watching.”

“I-” You glance at Stolas, who has his head tilted to the side as he watches you. He looks curious. “Okay.”

“Good fuckin’ girl. Come on, Stolas, don’t be shy!” Blitzø pulls you to lie down with your head on one of Stolas’ fancy silk pillows, and you feel anticipation bubbling inside you. 

Stolas crawls to kneel right by Blitzø’s side, facing your legs. His eyes wander from you to Blitzø to you to Blitzø, as if unsure where to begin. And apparently he is. “I don’t- I don’t know how to- what should I do?”

“You never eaten a woman out before?”

Stolas ashamedly nods his head no. 

“Didn’t you have a whole ass wife?”

“Well, yes, but we barely ever-” oh. 

“Okay, well, good thing I’m kind of an expert,” Blitzø grins confidently and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at it. “Ya wanna learn something new today?” 

Stolas nods feverishly. 

“Okay, well, change of plans, tits,” Blitzø tells you, crawling over to be at face level with you, his body fully on top of yours, weight held up by his hands on either side of your head. “That alright?” He lowers his voice again, staring deeply into your eyes. You’re beginning to suspect he could ask you to do anything in that voice and you’d do it, no questions asked.

You take a gulp. “Yes.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he whispers, before capturing your lips on his roughly. This time around the kiss doesn’t start slow, or tender, or anything remotely wholesome. It’s obscene and hungry and feels so, so right. He leaves his weight for his left arm to support as, lips still linked with yours, tongue still dancing against your own, he descends his right hand to squeeze your right breast over your bra, and you feel him open a smile against your lips when he manages to make you suck in a harsh breath at the feeling of it. He massages your breast roughly over the piece of clothing before he tugs the bra cup down, thumb and pointer finger promptly taking hold of your nipple and rolling it between them. He pulls his face away from yours and halts his ministrations altogether, much to your dismay, to take a look back at Stolas. “You watching?”

“Of course.”

“Good. You see how you don’t just jump straight into it? Not that you can’t, but it takes the whole experience up a notch to start with some kissing, some touching, some squeezing,” he wiggles his eyebrows at the last part and makes a point of squeezing your boob once again.

“And what makes you so sure you’re doing it right?” You challenge him. You know he knows you’re only doing it to tease him, but whatever gets him back on you, even if only to prove a point. Blitzø fucking loves proving a point.

“Good question. Let’s see, shall we?” He lets go of your bra, letting it cover you again, and begins trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your ears, your neck, your throat. He pays extra attention to your collarbone before supporting himself up and shifting his weight to his legs, straddling you. He places his hand back on your right boob this time, kneading it over your bra once again, and tugs down on the other bra cup, exposing your left. 

He dives right in with no warning. You’re given no time to expect it before he’s licking at you messily, your nipple hardening immediately at the contact. The cool air of the room hits the spit that now covers it as he pulls away and intensifies that feeling even more. You breath hitches. 

He takes it a sign to keep going, which it is, and encloses his lips around it, sucking like his life depends on it, and holy fuck it feels good. The moans you’re unable, and honestly don’t care enough about anymore, to contain, incite him to alternate between sucking and licking at your nipple, other hand busy massaging your other breast at a matching pace and tail caressing the inner of your thigh, though that you’re not sure is intentional. It turns you on, nonetheless. Only after a while of it is he sufficiently satisfied before feeling like he needs to continue his ‘lesson’. He lets his teeth graze and slightly pull at your nipple as he pulls away. “Yeah I think I’m doing it right,” he boasts.

“Oh fuck you.”

“Ha! Not yet! I’m teaching Stolas how to eat some pussy first, would you mind?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Okay, we could give some more attention to the boobies-”

“Ew, Blitz! What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t say fucking boobies!”

“It’s what they are!”

“You’re so fucking-” your words get caught on your throat when his tail wraps itself around your upper thigh, squeezing it tight enough to hurt just a bit. It feels good. “Fuck. Insufferable.”

“Can you let me finish? Ha. Finish. Anyway, we could keep on giving some more attention up there, but the lady seems really impatient, doesn’t she? So we can always just go back to that later.” Tail still wrapped around your upper thigh, he moves around from straddling you to opening your legs to make way for him to kneel between them. Wordlessly, he leans back down to kiss at your stomach, and his hands fly to the waistband of your shorts. He tugs on it and asks for confirmation that he can take it off, doing so as soon as he gets it. You lift up your hips to help him out and he discards the piece of clothing by purposefully throwing it directly at Stolas, who looks stunned by it for a second. 

You’re sure Blitzø’s next step is to just get to taking your panties off, but, instead, he wraps his hands behind your legs, pushing you to fold them and plant your feet to the mattress, and leaves small bites all over your inner thighs. Your breathing quickens as he gets closer and closer to where you simply need him at this point, but doesn’t get to it. You're torn between yelling at him to just get to it and just enjoying what he’s doing, however torturing it feels. You’re not torn anymore when he gives a rather harsh bite, tugging on the soft, plush skin of your thigh, sure to leave a mark, and decide on your first option. “Will you please get to it already, you fucking-” He knows you were about to insult him, and makes sure to shut you up just before you can, licking a stripe over your panties. “Shit. Yes.”

“The two of you really need to learn some fucking manners, you know? Have some fucking patience!” He scolds, and he tugs on the thin band of the lingerie with his pointer fingers, pleased with how you immediately respond with furious nodding, urging him to just fucking take it off already. He slides the underwear off your legs slowly as he keeps his words directed at Stolas. “Now if you’ve been doing things right, by the time you’re taking the panties off, she should be wet.”

“Not true for everyone,” you quip, and gasp in surprise when he grazes two of his fingers against your entrance, collecting the wetness and bringing them up for Stolas to inspect. It almost makes you want to die of embarrassment. 

“True for you, though. You ready for the best head of your fuckin life?”

“Highly doubt it.” 

He only sends you a smile, clearly confident, before lowering himself, hands parting your thighs further and wasting no time before licking a long stripe up from your hole to your clit, sending shivers through your spine. You let out a moan. It fuels him on, and he does it one, two, three times again before his tongue focuses solely to your clit, rolling it out in circles a few times. Your hands instinctively go to his head, taking hold of the base of his horns. What he’s doing feels good, but you know it can feel even better, so you guide his head to signal what you want- “Up and down.”

You’re not sure what his response to the demand will be, if he’ll scold you for telling him what to do, but he seems pleased to have you voicing exactly what you want. 

He pulls away for a second to comment on it. “That’s it, babe, tell me what you want.” He latches his mouth to your clit again, sucking on it a couple times before releasing it to go back to flicking his tongue at it, up and down this time, just as you urged him, and the feeling of it is heavenly. You assume.

You can feel a faint sign of your orgasm building inside of you as he keeps on for who-knows-how-long, and so it’s beyond frustrating when he pulls away altogether. 

“No! What the fuck?” 

“Hey, chill out! I gave a little demonstration, now we should let Stolas practice, shouldn’t we?”

As much as you want Blitzø’s mouth on you again, you don’t deny the suggestion, for Stolas is looking at you in such a mix of curiosity and hunger that it makes you crave his mouth on you too. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Stolas asks you, nervous. “Perhaps I’m not the most qualified to-”

“I’ll guide you, Stolas. Please?”

He only nods, taking Blitzø’s place between your legs. He stares, and it takes a lot of willpower not to close your legs at that. You remind yourself he’s curious, not judging- not only has he never gone down on a woman, the only woman he ever had sex with didn’t exactly have the same anatomy as you did. 

“There’s no clothes to take off anymore,” Stolas points out, nervous, as he runs Blitzø’s ‘demonstration’ on his memory again. 

Blitzø laughs. “That’s true. You just gotta dive right in. Long as it’s fine with the lady. Is it?”

“Yes.” You feel a little ridiculous in this position, being the object of some sort of sex lesson or whatever the fuck this had turned into, but, as soon as Stolas’ mouth is on you, Blitzø’s hungry eyes staring at the scene, it clicks that he wants to watch the two of you much rather than to genuinely be teaching Stolas anything. 

Stolas’ mouth is careful on you and his hands are unsure. Blitzø comes up behind him to place them on your waist, and the prince quickly gets the sign to grip at your sides. You’re surprised when he pulls your body down to him, pressing you to his mouth forcefully as he messily licks at your clit, reminding himself of the up and down motion you’d guided Blitzo into. You want more, more, more.

“Holy shit, Stolas, I want it inside. Please, please, please,” you plead, neverminding the fact he might be confused by the request. It doesn’t even cross your mind as you’re in the middle of it.

Stolas pulls away to turn and look at Blitzø, a silent question of ‘what the fuck does that mean?’ in his semblant. 

Blitzø lets out a laugh. “Your tongue, Stolas. She wants it inside her.” 

“Oh. Is that right, dear?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes-” he wastes no time in doing as he’s told- Stolas is very good at that, it seems. 

He gives your clit a kitten lick before slithering his tongue into your hole and, fuck, fuck, fuck, this is exactly what you wanted. He flicks it inside of you blindly and you can’t help but fuck yourself against it, thrusting against his mouth repeatedly to help him find a rhythm. It feels so good you feel that same feeling bubbling inside you again, your orgasm beginning to creep up again. It stays that way, though, and you realize what you want might be too much to ask of Stolas just yet. “Blitz?”

“Hm?” He’s watching the way you fuck yourself against Stolas’ face intently, barely registering the fact you’re speaking to him.

“Blitz. Your- your fingers.”

“What, birdy not good enough for ya?”

“It’s not that, I want- I want both of you.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. Yeah I can do that. Scooch over, Stols.”

Your legs are opened impossibly wider, and Blitzø squeezes himself besides Stolas, who looks lost now. “What should I do?”

“Keep eating her out, yeah? Only difference is I’m gonna be fucking her with these while you do it,” he holds up his hand, wiggling his fingers in the air. Stolas blushes at the implication of what’s to happen and Blitzø runs his thumb over your clit in an achingly slow pace before one of his fingers finds its way into your entrance, wet enough now that it doesn’t hurt, but he does it slowly, still, curling it around for a moment before checking in with you. “Y’alright?”

You hum in confirmation.

“Gonna give you another one, alright?”

“Please just fucking put it in, Blitz.” 

He doesn’t make any funny remarks at that, only doing as demanded. He inserts a second finger, and this time around it feels like you need a few more seconds to adjust to it, which he gives you. He curls both of them up tentatively, without moving them from their place, and is pleased with the coarse moan he manages to get out of you. 

Stolas takes the noise as a cue to dive right in once again, licking at your clit ferociously. The stimulation feels so undeniably amazing you feel your senses tune out. Blitzø begins a slow pace as he pumps his fingers inside you, curling them up ever-so-slightly, and Stolas matches his rhythm as he gives your clit the attention it so desperately needs, and you faintly register yourself making noises so unhinged they barely sound like you, the knot in your belly threatening to come loose. 

And then Blitzø lowers himself up and suddenly they’re making out, with each other, with your cunt, all the while Stolas’ fingers claw harshly at your thigh and the pace at which Blitzø’s fingers move inside you picks up, with him choosing to pump only deeper and deeper inside you instead of pulling his fingers out to insert them back in, and then it all fucking explodes. 

The mix between a moan and a scream that you let out could be a sound effect on one of those freakin’ Angel Dust movies. 

Blitzø is quick to take his fingers out of you and suck on them as soon as he’s made sure you’ve ridden down your high, and Stolas laps up at the remaining fluid that gushes out of you.

“Holy fucking shit,” you mutter out under your breath, chest heaving up and down. 

“Is that a good thing, dear?’ Stolas asks, and you can see he’s fighting a smile.

“Asshole. I know you know what an orgasm is like.”

“Well now I’m fucking hard,” Blitzø says, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to take a look at him. He is. His black underwear, stained with Stolas’ cum on the front, looks impossibly tight. 

“What’s that you said about wanting me to feel how perfect his dick feels inside me again, Stolas?”

“Oh, you want-” You take Stolas by the hand and pull him out of the bed with you, pushing him against the nearest wall before turning around with your back to him. 

You lock eyes with Blitzø, still sitting on the bed, confused as ever. 

He gets up off the bed, now standing, but doesn’t move towards the two of you. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Well, what I’m planning doesn’t exactly sound the most comfortable lying down.”

“What are you planning?”

You tug at the back of your bra. “Can you take this off for me, Stolas?” His fingers fly to undo it and you let the piece of clothing fall to the floor in front of you, now entirely exposed. “Aren’t you coming?”

Blitzø wastes no more time, walking over to where the two of you stand in a hurry, taking his underwear off in his way, and your eyes widen at the sight of him completely naked in front of you. Fuck, you need, need, need him inside of you.

“How do you want me?” He asks, and you realize he’s sort of gotten the gist of your plans. 

Your turn around, facing Stolas again, body flushed against his. “Oh we’re recreating Stolas’ fantasy right now. Isn’t that what you asked for, Stolas?” You raise a hand to caress his cheek.  “I think you said something about me filling you up with my fingers? Is that so?”

“Yes,” he agrees, anticipation visible in his face as your other hand descends over his body slowly, knowing what’s coming next. You stop just before you reach his hole to tilt your head back on Blitzø’s shoulder. 

“Then he said something about how perfect you feel inside of him, that I just had to know what it feels like. Didn’t he?”

“Fuck. Fuck, you want me to-” Blitzø doesn’t finish his sentence, voice dying out at the proposition. 

“What, cat got your tongue now? Are you a pussy, Blitz?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Prove it then,” you tell him, before averting your attention back to Stolas, finally letting your fingers graze against his entrance. He hoots again, the second time the whole night, and you smile at it. “Look at me, yeah? Gonna give you what you want.” You press your middle finger into his hole and he sighs. You decide to take it slowly for now, circling around his answer, barely a knuckle in, teasing him to your heart’s content. 

The grin you sport is quickly wiped off your face as Blitzø parts your legs further apart with his foot and flushes his front to your back, aligning his dick with your hole, and you suck in a sharp breath in anticipation. “You ready?” He asks you, and, with a nod from you, he pushes himself in, inserting just his tip inside of you slowly, giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper, to youself really, as the uncomfortable feeling of the intrusion turns into an uncomfortable feeling of needing more. 

“Right away,” he tells you, as if you’d been talking to him, and pushes his whole shaft in at once. Not forcefully enough that it hurts, but fast enough that he’s now fully buried inside you. He relishes in the gasp you let out and asks if he can move.

“Yes, yes, yes-” he begins moving, fucking you from behind at a torturingly slow pace, making sure to bury himself deeper and deeper with each calculated thrust. You insert your finger further inside of Stolas, whose voice gives up on him, inaudible gasps coming out as you match Blitzø’s rhythm in yourself. 

Blitzø isn’t exactly known for his patience though, and so it doesn’t take long for his pace to grow more erratic. The end of his tail entangles itself with yours and he holds your hips firmly, pulling them against his. You insert a second finger into Stolas, pressing them in deep, and he grabs your head with both his hands, shoving your face against the fluff of his chest.

“Fuck I knew you had to be nasty, but this? Shit, this is like combining every wet dream I ever fuckin’ had,” Blitzø mumbles as he fucks into you. 

“It’s his wet dream,” you let out, referring to Stolas, whose chest muffles your voice slightly, and you make a point out of curling your fingers up, making the prince let out a sinful moan.

“Oh and you’re not enjoying this?” Blitzø fucks deeper into you, harsh thrusts meant to prove a point. 

Suddenly, Stolas leans forward, over your shoulder, and pulls Blitzo into a bruising kiss that’s meant to shut the imp up. It works. Blitzø’s hips falter slightly for a moment as he gets used to the change, but he adjusts quickly to it. It’s so incomprehensibly hot, the way they make out over you, their moans meddling with each other’s, the way they pant, the way you can feel they’re as into this as you are. 

Blitzø pulls away from Stolas and his mouth goes directly to your collarbone, biting at it, as Stolas sucks at your neck at the same time. 

“Harder,” you plead, as you can feel the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching once again, and the feeling of it coils inside you in such a way that you know it’s going to hit you hard, and you chase your release blindly.

Blitzø smiles against your neck as he complies, fucking into you so impossibly harder, every roll of his hips so deliciously deep it could make you delirious with how perfectly he’s now managing to hit that sensitive spot inside of you. Just as before, you make sure your fingers hit Stolas just as deep, matching Blitzø’s now brutal pace, and the prince trembles against you, clearly close. Blitzø himself can’t even keep pretending he’s as unbothered as he’d like, seemingly also in a borderline delirious state as he aggressively thrusts against you, cursing over and over again under his breath.

“Fuck. Gonna cum, gonna cum-”He finishes first, and he does so with a groan, burying himself to the hilt inside you as he fills you up. You can feel his legs trembling, but he doesn’t let up his pace until he hears you call out for him.

“Shit. I’m so close- Please-” It must have taken all his willpower, but he ups his pace to match the way he’d been moving earlier, fast and hard, and, suddenly, you’re cumming. Not even just that, you can feel the liquid gush out of you as you squirt, cum dripping down your thighs and coating Blitzø’s cock, and the scream you let out pushes Stolas over the edge right after, too, and you let him fuck himself onto your fingers for a long as he needs to ride out his orgasm. 

It leaves all three of you a panting, gross, sticky mess, no sound emitted other than heavy breaths, chests heaving up and down as you come back to reality. 

You pull your fingers out of Stolas carefully, and he whines at the loss. Blitzø pulls himself out of you as well, and you bite down on your lip as to not do the same. Tasting Stolas on your fingers is exhilarating, and has you wishing you could go down on him. Later, maybe, you think to yourself, as you realize all of you seem to spent, too fucked out to jump right into another round. 

Coming down from your high to the silence that follows has you wondering if you should say something, do something, but leaves you stuck in place, as you have no idea what they usually do when they’re done. In hindsight, you probably should have asked Blitzø earlier- are you even allowed to stay any longer, to provide any sort of aftercare, or do you just clean yourselves up, get dressed, and leave? You don’t want to make things awkward by being the person to ask ‘what now?’ or something of the sort, so you wait for one of them to take the lead.

Stolas thankfully does. “We should get ourselves cleaned up.”

He leaves towards some other door inside his already gigantic room, and Blitzø immediately follows. You stay where you are, feet planted to the floor. Blitzø’s head appears in the door frame. “You coming?”

“Where?”

He utters no word as he walks up to you and drags you along with him into what you realize is a huge, beautiful bathroom. There’s a bathtub in the middle of it, the myriad of candles that surround it the only source of light in the room, and it somehow seems as if it’d just been drawn, steam coming out of the water, which made no sense. 

“When did you- how-”

Stolas laughs at your confusion. “I have got some spells under my sleeve, darling.”

Blitzø groans in annoyance. “Yeah yeah, now will you conjure me the fucking thing?”

Stolas’ smile falters for a fraction of a second before he agrees. “Of course, Blitzy, dear!” With a wave of his hand, a fucking shower materializes in a corner of the room. 

“Are you getting in?” Stolas asks you, motioning to the bathtub. He notices the confusion in your face. “Blitzy doesn’t like baths.”

“So you conjure him a fuckin’... magic shower or whatever whenever he comes over?” What the hell. 

“Well, yes. It’s not half as difficult as it sounds, trust me.” He slips into the bathtub, humming at the welcoming feeling of the hot water. “Do you enjoy baths?”

“Um. Sure. Yeah.” You glance at Blitzø for a moment, not missing the eye roll at the conversation. Oh, whatever. 

You get in, and Stolas promptly settles into washing your hair, because what even is reality? It feels nice, though you do wish Blitzø would share the moment with the two of you. You understand why he won’t, but tell yourself it’s fine, and you really want it to be, because the feeling of it is just nice, different from most times you’ve been intimate with anyone. No one’s ever drawn a magical bath for you and offered to wash your hair after sex before, that you’re sure of. 

When you’re all half-dressed again, you prepare yourself to bid Stolas goodbye and leave, only for Blitzø to be the first to launch himself back on Stolas’ bed, sprawling over it. Were you staying the night? 

What a weird fucking man. Can’t take a bath together after fucking you senseless but invites himself to stay over? In what realm is the latter less intimate? Still, you don’t find it in you to argue, plopping yourself to lie down next to him, Stolas following suit. 

You’ll think about it tomorrow.

[. . .]

“What’s got you so happy?” Millie asks you as you get ready to leave for Loo Loo Land, as Stolas has requested you work as security for him during his outing with Octavia, his daughter, which is something you wouldn’t normally do, but he must have offered a lot of money for Blitzø to agree. She’s asked you what your night at the palace had been like, but you hadn’t had the chance to talk to her in person about it yet. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell her, checking your gun’s cartridge. 

“‘T’s probably the dick down she got this weekend,” Blitzø inserts himself into the conversation, and you send him a dirty look. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

A/N:I hope this doesn't suck omfg lmaooo and if the last few paragraphs do suck cut me some slack my brain is so fried at this point lol. anyways enjoy.

[landograndprix]

My yellow ✾ d.r

summary: you're not the only two who love your marriage.

requested: yes!

a/n: I'm having way too much fun with these, please keep requesting them 🥺

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y/nricciardo

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 802,786 others

tagged: danielricciardo

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y/nbabees here she goes again, what is the context bestie????

danieldr3 what love language is this?

y/nricciardo tough loving

charlos5516 and they say romance is dead

loverskies29 Daniel is holding up 4 fingers...4th album soon? 👀

y/nluvu god I hope so it's been too long :(

danielricciardo exploiting your husband again?

y/nricciardo so he is good for something?

norrizz4 should we get the divorce papers ready? 👀

ricienation mother make new music please we've been starving, there's no crumbs left

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danielricciardo

liked by landonorris, y/nricciardo and 798,543 others

danielricciardo happy birthday to the wife who has the best husband in the world, you're so lucky to have this handsome men by your side, you should always remember this. Happy birthday, my luv. ❤️

tagged: y/nricciardo, landonorris

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landos4 crying why'd you post a picture of lando 😭

leclercc_16 that's his wife, what do you mean?

y/nricciardo can confirm, I'm just a side piece.

landonorris thanks luv. ❤️

scottyjames31 love the cake, facts were spoken.

dr3ln4 watch it scotty, her next song will be about you 🤪

scottyjames31 it'd be an honor

y/nupdates y/n is a whole mood in the last picture, unbothered queen. ♡

dannyswife favorite couple 🥰

y/nricciardo posted on their story

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y/nricciardo

liked by mclaren, danielricciardo and 178,254 others

y/nricciardo something in the orange

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sharlos55 supportive wife y/n activated

y/nricric you don't understand how much I've missed you on the grid, you looked fabulous once again 😍

y/nricciardo using my man's and his team to promote my new song once again? you bet your sweet ass I am. #ColorsComingSoon

y/nfan004 rip to the people who don't read the comments 😭

Bott_ass you can't just drop this out of the nowhere, I'm hyperventilating 😫

danniericario I'm convinced flipping you off is Daniel's way of saying I love you

y/nricciardo oh no, he really can't stand me but same to be honest

danielricciardo ❤️

dr3ln4 babe wake up mom and dad are being mom and dad again

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nricciardo

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly and 217,111 others

y/nricciardo it's been a while but after months of writing and producing with the best team ever, my new song Colors is out now on Apple music & spotify 🧡

view all 1,999 comments

zoeeeey I could've used a warning of sorts 🤯

mickschummy when have we ever had a solid release date for anything, bestie is so chaotic she'll drop an song or album whenever she wants 😭

y/nnnnn2000 we've been fed!!

redbulldanny is this song about Daniel?

y/nricciardo don't tell him, it'll boost his ego 😉

landonorris this about me, right?

charles_leclerc this will be on repeat for days!

thefridgirlies we love a bunch of supportive friends 🥰

danielricciardo big fan of this

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nricciardo

liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 214,542 others

y/nricciardo three years ago, this man made the best decision of his life by marrying me. It's amazing how we've tolerated each other for this long but all jokes aside, thanks for making me feel loved every hour of the day ♡♡

We'll keep saying it; marry your best friend ❤️

tagged: danielricciardo

view all 1,216 comments

sainzchili happy anniversary to you 2! 💞

landonorris congrats mom and dad ❤️

landochaos have they adopted you already?

Isahernaez happy anniversary! ❤️

y/nricciardo ❤️

chilileclerc_ your up next Isa!

dannielricc 3 years?! It seems like yesterday we first saw you in the paddock 😭

danielricciardo and here i thought that we were just partners for one night. ❤️

maxmaxmax DANIEL 💀 💀

☆☆☆☆☆

☆☆☆☆☆

danielricciardo posted on their story

[vbecker10]

Loki's Silent Sentry (Part 1)

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You are not just a soldier in Asgard's Royal Army, you are Lieutenant Y/L/N, Prince Loki's personal guard, his sentry and you are not supposed to fall in love with him. If you followed your training properly, you should never have even spoken to him. As a sentry, you are expected to remain silent and invisible as you shadow your appointed member of the royal family or member of the court protectively throughout their daily tasks.

Rumors (that happen to be true) begin to circulate through the palace that you serve the younger prince of Asgard both outside and inside his chambers. There is little you can do once word of your off duty activities spread through every maid, cook, gardener and seamstress in the palace. You soon find even the soldiers in your own company are now questioning how exactly you had come to earn your seemingly quick rise to lieutenant.

As the annual Winter Solstice Ball approaches, you come to the heartbreaking realization that your relationship with Loki must come to an end if you are both to fulfill your duties.

Warnings: Angst, arguing, Thor being an absolute ass, Odin being a terrible father

A/N: I did some googling quickly for military terms and ranks (since I have no previous knowledge of them) as well as some basic information about the royal guards in England. I took some of what I found interesting and then made up most of the rest to fit what I needed for my story so there will be some similarities. Also... I haven't written anything in like a year (maybe longer) so be nice please 💚💚

You stand at constant attention in silence outside of Prince Loki's private office. You listen to the birds singing through the open window across the hall from where you are posted and wonder how long you could go without making a sound. You have been trained by the Royal Army for years to remain silent, vigilant, always listening and watching your surroundings for anything dangerous or out of the ordinary. You are always on guard, ready to protect Prince Loki should the need arise. Not that someone with his fighting skills or magic would need protection from a simple soldier like you. You were assigned this post purely because it was customary for each member of the royal family to have a sentry, whether they actually need one or not.

Your attention is drawn to the sound of footsteps approaching from your left. You are unable to determine how many people are coming but judging by their pace and heavy boots, they are most likely all soldiers. Commandant Thorn, the soldier in charge of your company, makes his way down the hall at a steady pace. He is followed by your captain, Captain Skye who is holding a leather bound book containing the names of all the sentries and their current posts. Trailing the two older men, are four low ranking soldiers you can't remember the names of.

The group of soldiers comes to a stop in front of you and your fellow guard and you both salute your commanding officers. "Lieutenant Y/L/N," Captain Skye says, opening his book for a moment. He closes it and looks up at you, "Prince Loki will of course be attending the Winter Solstice Ball. You will be required to escort him to the ballroom and remain on guard there until he dismisses you for the evening."

You nod in response, carefully hiding the heavy emotions you have surrounding the upcoming ball. The soldiers move on and you are left alone with the other guard again. She says nothing to you and even if you were allowed to speak, you know Sergeant Sands wouldn't talk to you. She is not your friend, none of the members of the Royal Guard are your friends. It wasn't always this way though, it is only since you were promoted to the rank of lieutenant that the guards you work with began to distance themselves from you.

You had been assigned to Prince Loki for three months when you were promoted from sergeant to lieutenant. Your fellow soldiers immediately assumed the young prince had a hand in it as he did little to hide how he favored you over the other guards who were previously assigned to him. The rumors about you spending the night in Loki's chamber instead of guarding it flowed through the palace soon after. You adamantly denied these rumors and any favoritism from the prince but it was a wasted effort. It also happened that the rumors were true to a point.

The door to Loki's office opens and you stand at attention as the court accountant exits, holding several rolls of paper and mumbling to himself. Sargeant Sands follows him without any orders needed, she is his sentry and will go where he goes. As she walks past by, she glances at you with what can only be described as a look of disgust. You look down at your boots, fully aware of what she is thinking.

You wait quietly for Loki to open the door again but you know him, he will want to read through all of his notes from today before he finalizes his meeting schedule for tomorrow. You have roughly half an hour until he will be done, half an hour to stand here and think about the dreaded Winter Solstice Ball.

Another half an hour later, as expected, Loki opens the door and walks out. Waving his hand towards the door, he uses his magic to seal the room. He smiles warmly at you and you smile back at him for the first time today. This was your favorite part, the part where the sun goes down and Loki frees you from your constant silence.

He touches your cheek softly and leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back but pull away quickly as you hear footsteps approaching. You step away from Loki and stand at attention as Prince Thor comes around a corner. You keep your eyes straight ahead but you can feel Loki stiffening next to you, he and his brother get along much better when they are at court than they do in private.

The brothers greet each other politely and you silently wish the older prince would simply continue on his way but it doesn't seem likely. Your attention shifts to the window across the hall from you again, you can just barely glimpse the sunset over the tall evergreen trees in the distance. You know Loki will tell you if he and Thor discuss anything interesting so there is no need for you to listen to their conversation. The two of them continue for several long minutes before you realize Thor has said something to you.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N?" Thor says and you shake your head as you shift your focus.

"I'm sorry your highness, I was unaware you were speaking to me," you apologize. He had never spoken to you before and you were unsure why he would start now. Loki folds his arms across his chest and you feel uneasy at how annoyed he seems.

Thor laughs which does nothing to make you feel better. "I was wondering what it was about you that made you my brother's favorite," he says. "You must truly be special, a sentry's post typically only lasts three months, perhaps six at the most. You have been with Loki for how long now?"

You think for a moment before replying. You had been assigned to Loki for only a month before he first spoke to you and you had quickly become close friends. Three months after becoming friends with the prince, you slowly became more until you were completely in love with him.

"Fourteen months," you answer him in as few words as possible.

Thor looks at his younger brother with a smirk, "Fourteen?" Loki remains silent and you can tell his older brother is not even close to letting you leave soon. He turns his attention to you again, "So is it true then?"

"Is what true your highness?" you ask quietly.

"That you follow my brother's orders when you are wearing your armor and when you are not?" he laughs and his sentry smiles then looks towards the ground. "I could use a sentry like that, I grow tired of being followed by these shadows."

Loki's fist clenches but he answers Thor calmly. "Maybe if you learned your sentries name and weren't so insufferable to be around, they would remain at your service for longer than a month at a time," Loki says. "And you are the last person I would expect to listen to palace rumors. According to the most recent ones I've heard, you've slept with nearly half of the kitchen staff this month alone."

Thor smiles, proud of himself. You and Loki realize the stories you had overheard were true, if not understated. He explains, "That is why I assume the rumors of you and your little pet are true as well."

You find yourself in that brief moment wishing Loki would confirm everyone's suspensions. Not necessarily that you were sleeping together, that you were in love and wanted to be together. You know wishing for this is as useful as wishing it would rain gold. Once again you remind yourself that this is the way it will always be, until he marries a woman of high status and you are forgotten.

Instead of responding, Loki turns from his brother and walks down the hall towards the stairwell that leads to the royal family's chambers. You follow him silently, staying a few steps behind as always.

"Come now brother, I was merely joking," Thor calls from behind you but neither of you stop walking.

The two of you continue on in silence until you reach the top of the stairs and Loki's pace slows so he is walking next to you. His hand finds yours, his thumb gently stroking your knuckles. As soon as you feel his touch, you begin to relax.

"I'm sorry about my brother," he says quietly.

"His behavior isn't your fault," you reply. "And he is far from the first person to corner me about our relationship. I am used to denying the truth."

He stops, causing you to turn back towards him, your hand still holding his. He then takes a few small steps, closing the distance between you. Loki touches your cheek gently with his other hand. "I'm sorry Y/N," he tells you again. "I wish we didn't have to hide but you know there are some rules even I cannot break so openly. Maybe I should have hid my favoritism towards you better but I couldn't bear to have you reassigned. You mean too much to me."

You smile, "So I am your favorite sentry?"

He lets out a laugh, "You are my favorite person in the nine realms." You giggle at his answer and his fingers trail down your cheek until his thumb gently runs across your lips. He leans down to kiss you but just as his lips touch yours, you feel your heart jumps in your chest.

You hear several sets of footsteps and separate yourself from Loki in an instant. He looks down the hall as his mother, two of her maids and one guard come into view. She smiles brightly at both of you as she comes closer and you bow to the queen in respect. You find it hard to miss the side eye from her sentry or the whispers shared between her maids. Loki gives his mother a hug and wishes her a goodnight. She tells him to have a goodnight as well and continues on her way.

You and Loki walk off in the opposite direction towards his chambers and once you are alone again, Loki moves to take your hand but you flinch away. He looks hurt by your momentary rejection but he doesn't say anything. He knows how nervous you are about being seen touching him or speaking to him. You round the next corner and are flooded with relief as Loki's door finally comes into view. You fight the urge to smile, holding onto your composure as you've been trained.

Loki opens the door and steps inside, you follow him as you always do and he closes the door. He flicks his wrists towards you without a word and the heavy armor you wear over your clothing instantly settles itself neatly into a large chest. You take a few deep breaths, feeling as if most of the weight you have been carrying leaves you, but not all.

"Thank you your highness," you say out of habit.

"Please, never call me that in here," he reminds you gently. "In here I'm not a prince, I'm just Loki." He walks towards you and you don't realize you are moving away from him until your back hits the door and his body comes flush to yours. One hand settles on your hip while his other hand lifts your chin, causing you to look up at him. He continues, "And you are not Lieutenant Y/L/N, you are Y/N. The woman I am so deeply in love with." He smiles and you can't help but smile back at his words. All your worries vanish the instant his lips meet yours.

You lay in Loki's arms watching the sunlight fill his room through the sheer curtains. You try to memorize the sound of his slow, steady breathing and the feel of his heart beat against your back as he holds you even in his sleep. You inhale deeply and focus on deciphering every herb and oil Loki uses to keep his hair soft. Closing your eyes, you use your senses to bring an image of Loki's face into your mind and try to hold it there.

"What are you thinking about my love?" he asks in a sleepy voice. You open your eyes and shift closer to him, pulling his arms tighter around your body. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asks, now much more awake.

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. You had been thinking about what you needed to do most of the night but now that it was time, you weren't sure you would be able to do it.

"I've told you, you can speak freely here," he says softly, urging you gently as always to speak your mind when you were with him. His fingers move slowly up and down your arm as he tries to comfort you without knowing what is causing your distress.

"I need to transfer to a new post," you tell him. You hear him inhale sharply as his fingers suddenly go still.

You stand outside Loki's office with Thor's new guard and two others in silence waiting for a very long meeting to conclude. You stifle a yawn and shift uncomfortably on your feet before regaining your composure. The tall guard standing across from you rolls his eyes while the woman next to him mumbles something that can only be about you.

It has been two days since you told Loki you wanted to transfer and you hadn't heard anything from your commanding officer. In the meantime, you decided to go back to sleeping in your assigned room at the soldiers quarters. You had forgotten how much you hated it there. The common areas are loud and there is little privacy, everyone is in everyone else's business. You barely leave your room, which is a surprise to no one. They wouldn't speak to you even if you did. You live in a world of utter silence surrounded by never ending noise.

You feel as if you are shattering from the inside out and you try to remind yourself that it needs to be this way. The two of you hid in his chambers as if it protected your relationship but it could never be real. How could it be when he could barely acknowledge your presence when in public. He is a prince and you are a soldier as were your parents, you were not high born. Loki is destined to marry the daughter of a council member and you will guard them and their children.

The door to Loki's office opens, you and the three guards stand at attention. Prince Thor walks out first, followed by two council members. They walk off in different directions, shadowed closely by their sentries but you remain, as always, at Loki's door.

You stare at the wall in front of you for what feels like eternity. Your mind wanders between your favorite memories from your brief time with Loki and the crushing weight of your current reality. You stand up straighter when you hear the door swing open and Loki steps out.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," he says, "I need to speak with you."

You nod and follow him into his office, closing the door behind you. You stand motionless, taking in his office and how much it feels like him. The dark wood bookshelves crowded with leather bound books, the chair pulled close to the window so he can see the garden below when drinking his afternoon tea, the green and gold accents on various pieces of furniture.

You sigh to yourself as you follow him to his desk. He takes a seat and you stand across from him with your arms behind your back, waiting for him to speak first.

"Y/N," he says informally but you don't relax. "Your transfer to a new post was not approved."

"Can I ask why your highness?" you keep the formalities as you've been trained.

"The Winter Solstice Ball is in less then a week," he answers as if you could forget. "The Royal Guard seems to be too busy tightening security and preparing for everyone's arrival to complete your paper work at this time."

"Understood, your highness," you say. "I should return to my post." You turn to head back outside of his office.

"Wait," he calls and you freeze just before you reach the door. You hear him get up from his seat and walk around the desk. "Please stay, talk to me Y/N. I miss you so much it hurts."

"I can't," you say almost in a whisper

He touches your arm and you turn to face him, seeing the pain in his eyes. "I miss the way your laughter filled my chambers. I miss hearing you hum to yourself when you think I can't hear you. I miss the sound of your voice and how easy it is to talk to you," he says and you force down a smile and the urge to hold him tightly.

"I can't bear to be without you," he tells you and you want to tell him you can't be apart from him either but you remain silent for fear you'll lose your resolve completely. He strokes your cheek gently and you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. "I love you," he says.

"I love you too," you tell him, seeing a spark of hope light his eyes. You shake your head and take a step away from him, "But I can't do this. I'm sorry." Before he can say anything else you tell him, "It will only hurt more the longer we wait to end this."

"We don't have to end this, now or ever," he insists as he steps towards you. "I promise I will find a way for you to be mine, not just when we are hidden away, but always. You believe me, don't you?"

"I want to," you tell him truthfully. Loki had promised several times to find a way to marry you but you thought it was false hope. "But this isn't a fairytale my prince, we don't always get a happy ending."

You want to disappear into the marble floor, to be sucked into the wall behind you or simply vanish into thin air but you can't. Instead, you must stand perfectly still and silent as you watch the dancing and merriment around you. You momentarily wish you would go back to a time when you didn't feel an ache in your chest at the mere thought of another woman being in Prince Loki's arms. Shaking your head just slightly, you chase away the thought. As much as this hurts, you will always cherish the limited time you shared with him.

The music changes tempo as the first of seven courses comes to an end. Couples begin to take to the open floor in the center of the ballroom. Prince Thor and Prince Loki make their way to the group of single, eligible women awaiting them, each at a different pace. The older prince seems to now exactly which woman he would like to spend time with first. He offers his arm to her and declares her the most beautiful woman at the ball, causing her to blush and giggle. The younger prince takes his time walking to the crowd and simply takes the hand of the closest woman without so much as glancing at her. His lack of interest does little to dampen her excitement however.

The dozen or so women who were not chosen move away from the dance area and you have to hold back a groan as they gather directly in front of you to wait for a chance with one of the princes. You can't help but listen to them discuss which prince they think is better looking or who they would prefer picked them. The first song ends and the two princes each select another dance partner. Again, Prince Thor takes little time deciding who he wants while Prince Loki simply offers his hand to the first woman he sees. You can practically hear him sigh as she holds his arm and walks quickly to the dance floor.

As the second song begins, one of the women briefly looks at you over her shoulder before motioning towards you to her friends. Your ears go red with embarrassment as she tells them the rumors of your past relationship with Loki just loud enough that she knows you will hear. Of course she gets the ending wrong. She assumes, like everyone else, that the prince grew tired of you and banished you from his bed chambers. You had to admit, it seemed a far more likely story than the truth.

You shift your attention to the ceiling for a moment, hoping that counting the candles in the chandeliers will distract you from their stares and comments. You only count to twenty seven before the sound of a glass shattering draws your gaze back to the guests. A council member laughs loudly, clearly drunk already, as a servant cleans the wine glass from the dance floor.

Your eyes scan the room and easily find Loki at the center of the crowd, a third woman in his arms. Your drawn to his face, studying his features. He smiles at the woman as he twirls her and she giggles but she doesn't know him like you do. She doesn't know that's the smile he uses at court, not the smile he shows you. Showed you, you correct yourself. He glances away, not holding eye contact with her as they move effortlessly across the dance floor.

After the final course is served, the dance floor fills for the last time and you sigh with relief that the night is almost over. You shift on your feet, looking down for a moment when the chatter of the women in front of you begins again. Why must they stand here to wait, you think to yourself.

The princes once again make their way to their potential dance partners and Thor makes his pick quickly. Loki stands in front of the women for a moment and your eyes lock with his as he looks between them.

"Pardon me," he says politely to the crowd as he moves forward, slipping past the confused women. He makes his way towards you and your breath catches in your throat. He stands in front of you and holds out his hand. You look at him, stunned by his actions. He smiles when you don't move, "Will you dance with me, my love?" Still you remain silent, looking past Loki to see how much attention his actions have drawn. "Don't look at them," he says, touching your cheek softly as you look at him again.

You steady your nerves and place your hand in his. The moment his fingers close around yours, you are surrounded by a light cloud of green, shimmery smoke. When Loki's magic fades, you are wearing a flowing emerald green gown with golden trim, perfectly matching his dress uniform. Your hair has been restyled to hold a small gold tiara with short horns, mirroring the helmet he had worn during his entrance.

"Gods, you look gorgeous in my colors," he says with a wide smile, causing you to blush. "To be fair, you are always beautiful but now it is clear to everyone here that you are mine." You feel as if your heart might burst when he calls you his, he had said it before but only when you were hidden away.

Loki keeps his fingers interlaced with yours as he leads you to the dance floor, straight through the group of now very angry women. Some cross their arms, others give you dirty looks and several make rude comments as you pass. You pause before stepping onto the dance floor, the chatter and stares coming from the guests near you holding you back. He senses your hesitation and leans down to place a kiss gently on your cheek.

Your mind can barely begin to process what is happening as he takes you straight to the middle of the dance floor. He places one hand on your hip and you place your hand on his shoulder as you had done so many times over the last few months. You and Loki shared several secret dances in his chambers and his office, he found it difficult to listen to music sitting still.

He holds you close, his eyes never leaving yours while you dance between the other guests. You focus on how amazing it feels to be back in his arms, ignoring the strange looks and whispers that surround you. He twirls you gracefully and you spin back into him, giggling as you final feel at ease. As the song draws to a close, Loki spins you one final time. When he pulls you back to him, he leans down slightly and your lips meet his.

You smile up at him, hoping this isn't a dream when you see his mother approaching you. You take a step away from Loki but he keeps his hand on your waist, not letting you go too far. You bow to the queen and she says, "I think it is my turn to dance with my son."

You nod quickly in agreement and Loki let's go of you, his magic fading instantly as your armor reappears. You walk through the crowd with your head down and return to your post, once again wishing you were invisible. The women watch you, gossiping wildly as you pass again. You can only imagine what they are saying but they are not your biggest concern at the moment.

Anxiously, you watch Queen Frigga and her son move across the dance floor. You can't hear what they are saying of course, but you can tell by her expression that there will be consequences for his actions. As the song ends you see your captain approach you and your stomach drops. Loki will not be the only one to be punished for choosing you.

"The king had summoned you to the throne room," he says in a stern voice. You nod in acknowledgement and when you look back towards the dance floor, Loki and his mother are gone.

I'm almost done with the second part so please let me know if you would like to be tagged! I hope you liked it and if you did, please like, share and comment 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @theaudacitytowrite @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins

[em-harlsnow]

the ages of shameless characters does nothing but drive me crazy, so I'm activating some detective skills to figure them out throughout the seasons. also - im ignoring the years or times that the seasons came out, just going by what the show says.

First off: Mickey - bday is 10 August 1994

Season 1: 16, because...

he's not in it much, he doesn't speak much, but we know two things - he's a teenager and he's under 18 since he goes to juvie. He's in juvie for some part of three seasons, so I think it's safe to put him at 16.

Season 2: 16 for a bit, then 17, because....

it's now summer, and Mickey comes out of juvie. I think he turns 17 that summer, because when he goes back in, people are wearing coats more so I assume it's getting colder, so it's past august.

Season 3: 17 for half, 18 for the other half, because...

it's summer at the start, so Mickey's been in juvie for like 6/7 months. he's still 17, because he didn't go to prison at any point. by the time he marries Svetlana, I think he's 18. I don't know how old you have to be to get married in Illinois, but I'll say 18 because American laws confuse me more than anything else. either way, again, people are wearing warmer clothes around the time he marries her, so he must be 18.

Season 4: 18, because...

it's winter, the whole way through. There's no way it's the next year, since Ian is still underage according to Mickey (altho there's a possibility he meant under the drinking age of 21, but I don't think so). So Ian's been gone for a few months, maybe like 5 since it could be Jan/Feb and he must have left Autumn time. Therefore, Mickey's 18. The whole time. Summer hasn't come, so his birthday hasn't passed.

Season 5: 19, because....

it's summer for the first part. Late summer, since the last half is in wintery time based on everyone's coats. We can assume that Mickey has his birthday either between season 4 and 5 or right at the beginning of season 5. So maybe he's 18 for like 5 seconds. But for the majority and the end, he must be 19.

Season 6: 19/20, because...

he's only in it for one scene (diabolical). I can't tell what the season is really, because there aren't many coats being worn at the start, and then loads at the end. It seems unreasonable that a whole spring and summer have been skipped, doesn't it? although, maybe it's possible. There are also some days when it seems really hot and some where it looks cold, so I have no idea. I don't know what the weather's like in Chicago, sorry. So he's either 19 or 20 when we see him. Most likely 20. Either way, he went into prison when he was 19, unless the trial was really long and lasted from winter to august, which I doubt.

Season 7: 21 (when he appears), because...

we have two episodes (again, very sad). it starts in the summer based on the t-shirts without jackets everyone wears. by the time ep 10 and 11 hit, it's colder. it's hard to tell at the end, since they're at the border or approaching the border and the further south you go the hotter it gets, and it's very sunny when mickey goes across. If season 6 really is that winter and they skipped the summer (which now makes more sense), it's the following summer, going into autumn. so, august has probably passed by the time we see mickey. so he's 21 now.

Season 8: 21, 22 by the end (even tho we don't see him), because...

no mickey (rude). we can still assume his age based on the seasons and other characters. it's summer again! I'm guessing it's the year after?? since it looked like season 7 was approaching autumn? that also means Ian and Trevor were dating for around a year, and I didn't realise it was so long to be honest. anyway, if it's summer again, at some point throughout mickey turns 22 (alone, in Mexico).

Season 9: 23, because...

one scene with mickey! it's still summer, the same summer as before I think, because there's no way the Gay Jesus thing lasted a full year. it looks like it's a direct continuation from season 8. by the last ep, Ian is wearing a hat and an undershirt under the prison uniform, so it's autumn-y time. so, mickey's either already 23 when we see him, or about to turn 23. by the end, he's definitely 23.

Season 10: 23 at the start, 24 by the end, because...

it's summer when Ian comes out of prison. I'd put it at early summer, since Ian says it's been less than a year of being in prison. so at the start, mickey's still 23. by the wedding, it's 'supposed to snow', so I guess it's full on winter. so august is passed, mickey is 24, and finally had his bday when he's with Ian.

Season 11: 24 at the start, 25 at the end, because...

summer again at the start based on all the t-shirts. early summer, because by ep 10, mickey goes swimming or does something in the pool, because I'm not convinced he can swim, which you aren't gonna do in the autumn/winter, right? by the last ep, there are more coats, and it's their anniversary so it's 'supposed to snow', so it must be winter time. so he's 24 at the start, 25 at the end.

In conclusion, Mickey is way younger than he seems (im not talking about Noel, he looks the age he's meant to be, he just seems older). Also, Gallavich has been together for 9 years.

Let me know if you disagree with any of this, I think I'll do Ian next! I don't know if this was obvious to everyone else and I'm just slow, but this is gonna help me loads when I'm figuring out weather seasons and ages for fics lol.

Shameless needs to deal with its shitty timelines. It was much better at consistency in the earlier seasons.