#texture? I hardly knew her

[spandexinspace]

Doing some environmental practice with tutorials by Philip Sue Art

[strawbeerossi]

Relief

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: With both of your stressful careers, you and your roommate come to a mutual agreement of a way to get rid of the unwanted stress.

Content/Warnings: Talk of stressful work environments, free use kink (duh), oral (f rec), kitchen sex, protected sex, choking

Word Count: 1.6K

Kinktober Day Thirty: Free Use

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

You had just gotten home from yet another eighteen hour shift, only running on fumes and coffee as you were slowly unlocking the apartment door. Spencer was away on a case, so you had the place to yourself for the past week. Your roommate was your best friend, someone who you confide in for every little issue. Rachel at work is being a bitch? Spencer would tell you that she couldn’t handle your shifts and that she needed to stay in her lane.

Even when you were wrong, he had your back. Which was what built up such a close bond and a strong friendship. You had mutual trust in one another, able to speak about all of the burdens of the world and have that sense of safety from lack of judgement. That comfort opened many doors, especially whenever it came to talking about your personal lives.

You’d confessed how stressed you’d been, itching for relief although you couldn’t see yourself having casual sex with someone you hardly knew. It was more trouble than it was worth, a sentiment that your best friend could definitely get behind the more he thought about it. After he opened up about his own struggle, you both had a brief window of silence while contemplating who would be the first one to offer a situation you could both benefit from.

“What if we just.. Fooled around? I trust you, I mean. You’re the best person to even sleep with since you are so cautious. Not to mention your germ thing..” You spoke while he had to think it over, the both of you setting boundaries in place. If either of you were desperate, the opportunity was there at any time when you’re around the apartment.

You didn’t expect things to actually happen that way though.

You were currently in the kitchen, washing some dishes from dinner that you’d carelessly tossed in the sink previously. Spencer wasn’t home yet from a week long case so it’s not like there were too many dishes. You just hated washing them, especially when you get the horrible feeling of wet food touching your skin and making you want to pull your skin off due to the texture.

With music playing in the background, you didn’t manage to hear the sound of the front door open and close, signalling your roommate was back from a long, draining case. Toeing off his shoes by the door, Spencer followed the sound of soft music to the open kitchen, his arms slowly crossed as he leaned against the wall.

It had been three weeks since you discussed your deal and set things into place, his body tense with stress and mind focused on the mind numbing details of the case the team had just solved. He needed to get his mind off of work, so he was taking the plunge tonight. Since you’d both agreed to always be prepared, he felt comfortable coming behind you.

His hands on your hips had you jumping from surprise, just about to yell at the man behind you for scaring you whenever you were silenced by the feeling of his body pressed against yours from behind. “It’s been a long week.” He groaned softly, letting his head bury in the crook of your neck.

You were shocked to say the least. You never imagined Spencer to be the one to initiate anything. You weren’t complaining by any means. Your head was tilting slightly to the side as you could feel the feeling of his lips pressing wet kisses alongside your skin, nipping at your neck playfully along the way. “I’ve been thinking about you for days.” His voice was soft, his hips rocking against you, his hardened cock pressing against your ass while he showed you just how much he’d yearned to let the load of all this stress piling up on his shoulders go.

With his hands squeezing your hips, he wasn’t wasting much time as your sweatpants were being tugged down in one swift motion, pooling at your feet as he was briefly letting you go to fall to his knees behind you. Anticipation was building in your stomach, the mere idea of your roommate taking you in the middle of the kitchen had your arousal soaking through the fabric of your panties.

As you could feel his finger hooking into the damp material, he was opting to push your panties to the side while using his fingers to push the puffy lips of your desperate cunt apart, he let out a low groan at the slick glistening in the kitchen light. “You’re so wet. Fuck,” He breathed, tongue darting out to swipe over your throbbing clit.

The faint taste on his tongue had his hands gripping your thighs, gently nudging them apart as he was delving in.

The sinful sounds of slurping, sucking, and moans were filling the kitchen, your hands gripping the edges of the counter while Spencer was thrusting his tongue rhythmically in your leaking hole. His knowledge on the female anatomy worked out in your favor, the wet muscle eagerly lapping up the gushes of slick that you were graciously blessing him with.

He was intoxicated on your essence, his brain fogged with pleasure as he was drinking everything you had given him, drunk on your wet pussy.

As he was forcing himself to tear away, he was reduced to using the back of his hand to wipe away your wetness from his chin since he’d managed to get sloppier than he anticipated. You weren’t so satisfied with the loss of contact but he was definitely about to make it up to you. “God, I don’t know how I managed to control myself for so long.” He groaned, leaning forward once more to press a kiss to your clit before pushing himself to his feet.

Your head turned, eyes focused on his movements as Spencer was heading over to his satchel that he’d dropped on the table at some point after he came inside. “I asked Morgan how I initiated this and his advice was pretty helpful. He also made sure I was prepared.” He’d chuckled, retrieving a condom that was tucked away in one of the pockets.

His presence coming up behind you had your glossed over eyes focused on his face, making him chuckle as he was putting the condom wrapper in his mouth to hold it, hands working on his pants in order for him to tug them down, boxers sliding down his legs right along with them.

After tearing open the condom packaging, his right hand gave his cock a few lazy tugs before he was sliding the rubber along his shaft. With one hand on your hip and the other positioning his cock at your entrance, he didn’t waste time before sinking deep inside of your eager cunt. “Oh fuck.” You slurred, head tilting forward as you could feel the stretch from his thick cock breaching your inner walls.

You’d always suspected Spencer to be well endowed and you were more than happy to be proven right.

You felt his hips snap into yours, catching you by surprise as you let out a whine. “Feel good?” Spencer asked, his hands resting against your hips as he was continuing with the steady thrusts, your sensitivity causing you to feel every edge dragging across your plush walls, the curve of his cock making the head of his cock assault the spongy button deep inside of you that you yearned for him to continue slamming into.

“So good!” You squeaked out, feeling his arm wrap around your torso before his hand was now gripping at your throat, using his strength to tug your upper body to rest against his. He took pride in the effect he had on you, the way you were panting and whining from him pistoning your cunt, the way you had drool running down your chin from your mouth being agape, even the fucked out look in your eyes that made him want to burst right then and there. “Spencer!” You gasped, legs beginning to shake as you could feel the arousal pooling in your stomach, your body hot from the strenuous activity.

“Fuck, I know. I’m gonna cum too.” Spencer spoke in a deeper tone, sweat beading on his own forehead as his grip tightened on your throat. “Let it go, pretty girl. Fuck, cum on my cock.” He rasped into your ear, lips pressing a wet kiss to the spot underneath it.

The words were enough inspiration as your walls were tightening around his cock, inner walls spasming around his shaft and being the boiling point.

You were the first one to climax, your hand gripping at Spencer’s wrist as you could feel your legs turning to jello, thankfully being held up by Spencer to prevent you falling to the ground and breaking something. His thrusts were sloppy, however it only took a couple more before he was filling the condom with his own spend. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to fill you with his cum, however he also knew this had to be done smartly. You both were stressed enough as is, you couldn’t imagine adding a baby into the mix.

As he pulled himself out of your leaking hole, you were letting out a shaky breath. “Oh, my god. Who are you and what have you done with Spencer?” The question caused him to chuckle.

“Stressed out Spencer is a lot different than normal Spencer, huh?” He mused, making you nod.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[ot9snumber1]

masterpiece

artist!son chaeyoung x reader

summary: sana's curious about that painting hung on your wall

warnings: pure smut, fucking on the canvas, implied poly!sachaeng x reader

notes: "quick blurb" to celebrate chae's day that turned into a short fic! dedicated to @nr1chaedickrider of course <3

—

you notice that sana had been staring off into the distance, her hand constantly swirling the wine as the gears turn in her head.

you follow her gaze, looking back to see chaeyoung's newest painting. to anyone else, it was unintelligible. the colors were splashed together in an almost unharmonious way, creating ugly browns in the midst of bright pinks and yellows.

to you, it was chaeyoung's greatest act of love.

"is that chaeyoung's new painting?" she asks, crossing one leg over the other. you nod, feeling the excitement creep up your neck at the thought of her figuring out what it meant. you didn't need to explain it, really, sana was a smart girl.

"looks nice." she smiles knowingly, finally sipping her drink. "you must have really inspired her." sana adds, her expression teasing. you laugh.

"you could say that, yeah."

—

chaeyoung's careful not to get any paint on her hand, making sure the lower half of your body doesn't either.

one hand is on your boob, massaging gently as she continues to push her tongue inside of your mouth. "fuck—chae—" you groan, making her smile as her fingers slowly run along your folds.

"yeah, baby, keep moving like that." chaeyoung whispers against your ear, smile growing devilish as you continue to squirm around the canvas. you aren't sure how your back hasn't hurt from the rough texture—you'd guess it was the wet paint saving you. (though, you hated how it was definitely going to dry in your hair later.)

chaeyoung's fingers slowly enter your pulsing core, slow and steady just to watch you get desperate. "shit—faster!" you breathe out, paint–covered hands reaching up to grab chaeyoung's shoulders. she didn't care if you'd leave colorful stains on her skin, it was just part of her artistic process.

she presses a chaste kiss to your lips, eyes hungry and tongue poking out as she quickens the flicks of her wrist. "anything for you, baby. just keep moving like that, yeah?" she hums, knowing her words fall on deaf ears as your eyes roll back from the feeling of her cold ring graze your entrance with every thrust.

chaeyoung doesn't tease you today. she doesn't make you beg, nor does she degrade you like she usually did. this was more than having you writhe under her—it was her sharing her greatest passion with her greatest love.

she only observes, holding your waist with one hand while the other continues to fuck you good. she's bordering on being rough, her moves were almost calculated. chaeyoung knew you like the back of her hand. she knew exactly how to get you to squirm as much as the painting needed you to.

you don't even have to tell her that you were close, the way your grip tightened on her shoulders and how your teeth caught your bottom lip was enough. "that's my girl." she smiles tenderly as her fingers curl inside you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body as you ride out your high.

her pace slows down as she peppers gentle kisses all over your face, slowly rubbing your thighs with her other hand.

"five minutes and it's your turn to paint." chaeyoung whispers, pulling you up to sit.

you turn around to see that the canvas was only half–colored. the other half was reserved for chaeyoung's body to come undone on.

you smile excitedly, grabbing chaeyoung's cheeks and kissing her.

—

"i helped her with it."

"i can tell." sana replies. you were both standing in front of the painting now, each and every 'stroke' clear to her eyes.

she clears her throat, turning to you.

"you should tell chae to invite me next time. i'm really good at painting, y'know?" she whispers, hand on your ass.

it was a death wish for you, you think. you could hardly handle them one at a time, much less the two of them fucking you hard enough just so you'd move around the canvas.

it didn't sound like a terrible idea, though.

"i'll keep that in mind."

[simplyholl]

A Gift For A God

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18 + ONLY. Minors DNI.

See My Masterlist Here

This is a gift for @fandxmslxt69 ❤️❤️❤️ for @fictive-sl0th Secret Santa 2023!

You sigh as you walk out of the sixth store today. You had been Christmas shopping for your boyfriend, Loki. But, you weren’t having any luck. What do you get a god who has everything? He was used to the finest fabrics on Asgard so he was picky about his clothes. You couldn’t afford the super nice brands he was accustomed to.

You thought about buying him more books, but he had so many there was hardly any space left for them in his room. The bookshelf was filled and overflowing. You voiced your concerns about what to get him, and he assured you that you didn’t have to get him anything. “All I want is you, my love.” He said while kissing each of your knuckles the night before.

You load the gifts you bought for your family into your car, looking at the other stores in the shopping center. You needed to run into the craft store for your sister’s gift. She had taken up sewing recently, so you thought you would get her some fabric.

You walk through the aisles, hoping something would catch your eye. When you reached the fabrics, you chose a few that your sister would like. You look on the opposite shelf, feeling the different textures. You stop immediately when you find a silky red one. You had the perfect idea.

You lay on Loki’s bed, fidgeting with the blanket. It wasn’t often you could surprise him. He usually knew you were up to something before you could act on it. This time, he didn’t have a clue. You could hear his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he walked to his room. You couldn’t wait for him to come in and find you.

The door creaks open. His heavy boots thump against the floor. Thud. You squeeze your legs together to quell the throbbing but it’s no use. Arousal pools against the smooth fabric. Thud. Your heart beats faster as he gets closer. Thud. You try your best to stay in the sexy position you’ve posed yourself in, on your back with your hair splayed across his pillows.

The light in his bedroom comes on illuminating you on his bed. Loki lifts his brow, his eyes darkening as he notices you. “What have we here?” He asks, walking painfully slow toward you. When he finally reaches the bed, he doesn’t bother taking off his fighting leathers first. He kneels beside you, his weight causing the mattress to dip under him. “You said all you wanted for Christmas was me, and here I am.”

“Here you are.” He purrs, pushing his long hair behind his ears. He reaches out to toy with the bow holding your breasts within. An amused expression crosses his face as he runs a long finger from the loops on the bow to the small piece that barely covers your aching nipples.

His digit stills as it lands on the sensitive nub. You whimper, as he removes his hands from you. He hovers, admiring your beautiful body wrapped up perfectly for him. The long piece that connects your chest to your ass barely covers anything. Loki’s gaze holds on that spot for a moment. You don’t think anything of it, until he nudges your legs apart with his leather clad thigh.

“You’re soaked already, darling.” He smirks, reaching down to swipe at your core. His finger dips underneath the ribbon, collecting your arousal. He brings it to his lips, savoring your taste. He releases his finger with a loud pop. You squirm, wishing it was you in his mouth, not his finger.

He captures your lips in a sweet a kiss, and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. Loki scatters kisses along your jaw line, down your neck. His teeth nip your collar bone, and you arch toward him. “This is the best gift I have ever received, my love. Perhaps I’ll take my time opening it.”

He palms your breasts gently, careful not to reveal your nipples. You press them against his rough hands, hoping he would give in. Finally, he rolls one between two fingers, the silky ribbon rubbing deliciously against you.

Loki lowers his head, his black curls fanning against your arms. He takes a hardened peak between his lips. His warm tongue flicks against the fabric, making you squirm. “Loki, please?” You whine, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He pinches the smooth fabric, playing with the bow. Slowly, he pulls it apart, leaving your chest bare before him. He removes the rest of your makeshift lingerie, spreading your legs. He admires you before burying his face between your thighs. His firm, velvet tongue strokes you slowly. You buck your hips, trying to get him to go faster.

It’s no use, his arm traps you, holding you down. Loki works your clit with the flat of his tongue until you are a whimpering mess. You cry out his name as he seals his lips on the most sensitive part of you, sucking roughly. You come apart underneath him, thighs gripping his head, holding him in place.

Loki doesn’t bother taking off his clothes, he removes himself from his pants, pushing them down his hips just a little. He lines himself up at your entrance, pushing into you slowly. You lock your legs around him, pulling him toward you.

He groans as he sinks deeper into you. He buries his head against your shoulder, lips latched onto your throat. He draws the delicate skin between his lips. Your legs tremble around him as you feel another orgasm building.

Your nipples graze the leather top as he lifts your leg, rocking into you with hard, deep thrusts. You clench around him. He rewards you with a growl that rips from his chest. His teeth scrape against your shoulder.

You grip his arms, incoherent cries escape you as your orgasm barrels through you. He grips your hips tighter, thrusting wildly. Loki bites down on your shoulder as he finishes inside you. You shiver, you love it when he marks you.

He rubs his nose against yours, locking eyes with you. “I love you more than you could ever know.” He confesses as you lazily play with his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. He holds you in his strong arms, telling you how much he loves you, and how proud of you he is. You smile, thanking the powers that be for blessing you with Loki. Every day feels like Christmas morning with him.

Secret Santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmsIxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

My Taglist

@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @wheredafandomat @freegardenbanananeck @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @asgards-princess-of-mischief @weirdothatwritess

[lookingforcactus]

Went to a big quilting convention today and am feeling inspired so here's todays edition of

What the fuck do you mean that's a quilt??

Most people have no idea about how much craft goes into quilting or how much quilting as a craft, art, and even a science has been evolving in recent years. So here's my personal appreciation post

And btw the flat images do NOT even do these quilts justice, especially in terms of the absolutely amazing and detailed texture embroidery that a lot of quilters are using these days. Up close the texture and the sheer detail of many of them is just stunning

These are all from the Road to California quilt show 2023

1st Place: Portrait

Title: Sharing the Moment Maker: Hollis Chatelain Quilter: Hollis Chatelain Design Basis: Maker's Original Design African-American women are a powerful force in motivating their families and communities to vote. I wanted to create a piece about this and highlight the fact that African-American women did not receive the right to vote in all 50 states until 1965 when the Voting Rights Act was passed. I met Phyllis at a rally. I was drawn to her and asked if she would be my model. Without hesitation she said yes. She later brought her friend Loretta with her.

1st Place: Naturescape

Title: Augustinii Maker: Andrea Brokenshire Quilter: Andrea Brokenshire Design Basis: Maker's Original Design “Augustinii” is a blue/purple variety of rhododendron my momma planted within her forest garden. I was lucky to be home on when it was in bloom. When I see this quilt, I am reminded of my momma and how she loves to tend her garden and “grub in the dirt.”

1st Place: Pictorial

Title: Leap of Faith Maker: Kestrel Michaud Quilter: Kestrel Michaud Design Basis: Original design In this Steampunk fantasy world, men and women have taken to the skies on ships held aloft by hot air, ingenuity, and luck. Faith’s favorite past-time is bungee-jumping off the side of her airship, with Bubo, her pet clockwork owl. This quilt depicts the photo Faith took on her latest jump to test her brand-new camera and selfie stick.

2nd Place: Naturescape

Title: Homage to Birches Bare Maker: Jessica Noble Quilter: Jessica Noble Design Basis: Fabric recreation of Kesler Woodward's Birches Bare, acrylic on I fell in love with Kesler Woodward’s Birches Bare painting and knew I had to create it in fabric. I cut about 1,700 pattern pieces out of freezer paper and then fused fabric, through the fall of 2019 until the pandemic started. During this time, I homeschooled my two children and the quilt sat in quarantine. I quilted this freehand on my midarm in the winter of 2021. I managed to take the majority of the summer of 2022 on the binding.

2nd Place: Pictorial

Title: Toroweap Overlook Maker: Sandra Mollon Quilter: Sandra Mollon Design Basis: Derived from a photo Toroweap Overlook, in the Grand Canyon National Park, is an incredible view of the Colorado River. When John Slot sent me the photo to consider for an art quilt, I realized the complexity of the amount of the pieces it would require, but knew I had to do it. Raw edge fused, machine quilted, small amounts of media.

3rd Place: Pictorial

Title: Catch it Yuri! Maker: Hiroko Miyama and Masanobu Miyama Quilter: Hiroko Miyama Design Basis: Maker's Original Design Inspired by dogs’ action. Yuri, golden retriever big jumped to catch a ball and Ponta, mix hardly waited his turn. Dogs and girl were fused appliquéd.

Seriously can you believe these are all quilts!!! incredible amazing showstopping spectacular

[kiyoomi-levin]

villain pt.1 (bakugoxf!reader) [NSFW]

a/n this was originally supposed to be a single fic but i wanted to see how ppl liked it lol. pt 2 is already in the making (and i promise it's more spicy than this one)

summary: harley (you) realize that joker (your boyfriend) is in love with batman (bakugo). If only harley also knew batman’s obsessed with her. —> inspired by this short  word count: 4.9k warning(s): bakugo’s literally just a horndog

“I swear, Ren, if you pull anything like that again…”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as he pulls away from your grip. 

“Enough, y/n. I always get you out, don’t I?” 

You frown, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself. 

“You try getting caught and being put into jail multiple times in a single month. It’s not funny,” you sigh. 

You don’t even know what it’s like to be tied up by Bakugo fucking Katsuki, you want to add. 

But you keep your mouth shut. 

Ren’s already in a bad mood, jaw clenched tight as he walks faster. You’re almost jogging at this point just to keep up with his pace.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath. 

Ren hardly glances at you as the two of you enter your cheap apartment complex, walking silently up the two flights of stairs to your front door.  

You cringe as you round the corner—on your front door is a familiar piece of white paper, the contents of which you already know by heart.

Late rent notice: Dear tenet, your rent was due on the 7th of February. As of the date of this letter, your payment is 4 days past due. 

Frustrated, you rip the paper off of the metal door as Ren reaches over and enters the pin. 

Your jaw drops as he walks inside carelessly, unbothered with the notice. 

The two of you have been dating for almost a year now; you’re long used to his carefree nature. 

That’s what first drew you to him. 

Now it merely disgusts you. 

“Ren,” you cautiously call out as the door shuts behind you, “I think it’s time to give it up.”

Your boyfriend tosses himself onto the wrinkled couch, pointing towards the fridge. Frowning, you head over and grab him a cold beer. 

“Thanks babe.”

You collapse next to him, relishing in the fluffy texture. After being in a holding cell for a few days, you’ve definitely missed the warmth of your home. 

“I know you’re mad, and I understand. But we learned something new from last time, didn’t we? Dynamight was literally showing off his weaknesses! If we just—”

“Ren, stop it! That was the last time. I’m done. Seriously.” 

Your boyfriend is pouting now, reaching over to hold you in his arms. You want to fight back, you should. 

He jumps into his usual rant about how much he hates Dynamight; that asshole, always flaunting his wealth and looks. He’s just a shitty hero with a shitty quirk.

Meanwhile, you’re fighting back tears of frustration. 

How had you gotten here?

A year ago, you had seemingly met the man of your dreams at the villain rehabilitation center (looking back, maybe that hadn’t been the best idea). 

You had been working there as a volunteer and was popular with all of the residents as a bright psychology student and aspiring therapist.

Despite the havoc these wannabe villains had wreaked across Japan, you had treated all of them with kindness and respect, hoping you would be able to make a positive difference in at least a single person’s life. 

How naive you had been. 

“Hey, y/n,” Ren smirks as you gently open the door to the small office. 

You exhale— this one villain has been bothering you more often recently, and he was just too cute for his own good. 

“Takanashi Ren. Your counseling appointment isn’t until later this evening.”

“Aw. I can’t give my favorite therapist a visit?” 

You grin at him, pushing your dark rimmed glasses up your nose. 

“I’m not a therapist yet,” you retort, stepping back as Ren pushes back from his chair, striding over to you. He has you cornered to a wall, and the muscles of his arm flex dangerously, reminding you of his crimes. 

Despite this, all you can notice is how bright his eyes are— gosh, you just love the way they twinkle.

“I’m sure a smart girl like you’ll achieve all your academic dreams. I just hope I’m out of here on time to watch you cross that stage.”

And with that, you’d fallen head over heels for a cringy, third-rate villain with no plans for the immediate future. But the more time you spent with him, you truly felt as though you’d met your match. 

He was intelligent. Witty. Funny. 

Most importantly, he was different. His ideas for a liberated world— where all quirks were considered equal and everyone had the freedom to use their quirks as they wanted— was just unlike what you’d ever considered. 

If only you had paused for a moment and asked him just how he would create that world. 

It had been too late when you had realized what you had gotten yourself into. Now, you spend your days as a college dropout, supporting your boyfriend in his schemes that always end in failure and with you in handcuffs. 

But you had already sworn to devote yourself to him. 

Question. Would you die for me?

Yes.

That’s too easy. Would you live for me?

… Yes.

“y/n, are you listening? We’ll stake out at his condo. I’ll do all the work, babe, you just have to stand watch. I’ve already planned it all out. ”

There it is, that strike of pain in your heart. 

Dynamight. 

That’s all your stupid boyfriend cares about. 

You’re already shaking your head, refusing furiously— but he’s begging, begging! 

… And you sigh and look away. 

“Last. Time.”

You peek out of the corner of your eye to see Ren’s face brighten. 

He really is just as pretty as when you first met him a year ago. 

“I promise, y/n. Last time.”

Fuck Ren and his promises.

From the moment you had scaled Dynamight’s luxurious condo, you had known your boyfriend had skimped on doing his research again. 

There’s no way we’re gonna get away with this.

Stuffed in a large delivery box, you only pray that Ren’s mailman cosplay is good enough to get through the lobby. 

Nervously holding your breath, you cringe as your boyfriend flirts with the ladies at the front desk and wheels you into the elevator. 

Tap tap tap. 

Three gentle knocks on the front of the box and you know it’s your turn.

“I’ve just disabled the hallway cameras,” Ren whispers as he pulls the box open. 

You step out eagerly, stretching, before turning towards the door. 

The corners of your mouth twitch as you suddenly remember why you hate rich people. 

Dynamight’s door just screams narcissism— who really needs a gold plated front door? 

Bakugo, the nameplate reads. The dreaded name you hear on a near-daily basis. 

You scoff as you reach into your pocket and pull out your decoding tool, placing it on the keypad in a single, practiced motion.

Ren taps his foot impatiently as you work with the machine— you only let out a breath of relief as the door buzzes and swings open what feels like an eternity later. 

You’re already sweating as your heart thumps with discomfort and fear at being at the hero’s homebase. 

Comically, it feels as though the two of you have just broken into a villain’s lair. 

“God, babe. You’re the best,” Ren murmurs, pushing you aside. 

He’s a little too eager to ruin his nemesis’ life. 

Ren rushes inside of Dynamight’s home, barely holding back his immediate laughter as he spots the marble dining table. 

He’s already poking around as you carefully close the door quietly behind you, tiptoeing into the large house. 

“Can you believe this man? He’s so fucking full of himself,” Ren spits as he stares at the various newspaper clippings of Dynamight adoring the bookshelves.

Forget that— if you were Dynamight, you’d be living like this too. 

This is life you had envisioned for yourself. 

Gorgeous white pillars uphold a high ceiling and there’s a leather couch in the center of the room. A giant television sits in front of it, almost mocking you. 

One day… When this was all over, would Ren want to live like this with you?

“Come on, babe. We gotta find the data,” Ren says, heading towards the closest door to him. 

The initial excitement has worn off and he’s now refueled by hatred. 

Right. The data. 

If you could just get your hands on the data of all of the current Japanese heroes, that would be the biggest data breach in the history of the World Heroes Association. 

You and Ren would go down as super villains— a title you still weren’t sure if you wanted. 

You repress these useless thoughts, though, and trail Ren around the large home as he throws open doors. 

“Are you sure he’ll even have it?” 

“Yeah, there’s no way a top hero wouldn’t have access to this— Damn! A basement. You think he’d keep his PC down here?”

You think back to your encounters with Dynamight, shivering as you remember his piercing red eyes meeting yours. 

Your boyfriend heads down without hesitation as you follow him, nearly jumping when he yelps in joy. 

“His computer’s right here.” 

You swallow as you turn your head around the dark basement, eyes not yet adjusted to the dark. 

Ren presses the power button of the computer and the entire room lights up from the bright screen. 

Couch, television, gaming consoles, mini fridge— this must be his man cave. 

“Alright. Get on it, babe,” Ren says, stepping back as the flickering monitor. 

Sighing, you lean down, plug in your trusty usb stick into the PC. This was going to be a long day. 

WARNING. 

You jump for real this time, letting out a surprised shout as the machine blares a loud alarm. 

Holy fuck, what’s going on? 

Before you can move, the heavy door to the basement suddenly slams shut— you hear the metallic locks clicking in place.

You glance at Ren in desperation, but he’s not looking at you, only frowning at the computer.

“Get on with it. We have at least 15 minutes, I’ll find a way out by then.”

You don’t bother protesting. Despite his easy going demeanor, you know Ren cares about you.

“Don’t worry, he’s in Korea for a conference,” he reassures you as he steps towards the staircase.

BOOM. 

You scream as you’re pushed back by an explosion, groaning in pain as you strike the side of Dynamight’s large desk. 

Collapsing on the ground, dust arises on either side of you. 

Your ears are ringing and your vision is hopelessly blurry.

When you muster up the strength to touch your stinging face, you wince as your hand comes back bloody. 

Ren. He was closer to the door. 

Your eyes widen as you roll yourself onto your side, trying to reach up to the chair next to you for help—

“Fucker!” 

You gasp as your vision clears and you take in the sight in front of you.

Dynamight has your boyfriend pressed onto the floor and strikes him in the face, once. Twice. Three times. 

Ren tries to fight back, but he’s basically hopelessly laying there, taking in the blows. 

It’s clear you’ve caught him off duty— Dynamight’s clad in nothing but a tank top and shorts. 

Despite that, he dominates your boyfriend easily. He’s kneeling on Ren’s stomach, one hand pinning down your boyfriend’s shoulder and the other punching his face at a sickening rate. 

You do nothing but watch as you watch Ren’s eyes flicker, then shut. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins, taking away the remaining rationality in you.

Pushing yourself onto your feet, you throw yourself at Dynamight, whose eyebrows merely raise as he registers your face.

You pull out your knife, swinging for his neck— Dynamight throws up his arm, blocking your attempt— before you can react, you’re pinned to the ground next to your boyfriend. 

“You… asshole…” you hiss, airflow momentarily cut off.

You struggle against Dynamight's strength, grimacing. You’re on your stomach, hands pinned behind your back. You try to kick him, but the strength in your legs fails you. 

Dynamight lets out a small laugh as he sits on your ass and your eyes widen as you feel his dick through his pants grinding on you purposefully. 

Fucking pervert. 

You turn your head to your side, glaring into Dynamight’s blood-colored eyes. The corners of his eyes are pointed upwards, he’s grinning madly. 

Leaning forward, Bakugo rests his right hand next to your face. Your immediate reaction is to lunge at it, trying to bite, but he pulls back quickly, yanking on your wrists. Your body arches upwards and you wince at the slight pull. 

“Easy. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Despite your slowly subsiding anger and hatred towards the man on top of you, you feel yourself blushing against your will. 

You hate how he talks to you. You silently remind yourself to take a recording of it next time and report him for sexual harassment. 

While you’re fuming over your current situation and mumbling profanities at him, Bakugo leans back and admires you.

You look really good like this— actually, you look perfect. Your eyes are slightly moist, cheeks flushed and lips a delectable pink. Bakugo’s mouth is watering at the sight. 

He’s already hard. He’s been aching in anticipation since he first got the alert that you broke into his home. 

What would happen if he were to just… 

You’re staring up at Bakugo again, watery eyes meeting his narrowed ones, and he feels a shiver run down his spine as he admires his reflection in them. 

“Can you let me go already? You’ve won, we get it,” you huff, cheeks inflating. 

He wants to stuff them full with his cock.

Easy, Dynamight. You’re a hero. 

He glances down at you apathetically, although his cock is throbbing. 

You ignore it the best you can, although you’re turning pink again.

You shift from side to side, hoping you won’t have to beg him to let you go. 

You’d rather die than do that.

Smirking, he clicks his tongue as he reaches forward with his right hand and strokes your face. 

“Give me a reason. You’re imposing on my home, doing who knows what?” 

Your teeth find his hand this time, sinking into the hardened flesh.

You bite down as hard as you can, wishing he’d just let go of you. Your jaw is just beginning to ache as you muster the courage to look back up at him.

Your blood runs cold as you notice his unchanging expression— he looks almost bored. But something flashes in his eyes.

Fuck, maybe you shouldn’t have done that. 

As you pull back, you squeak as he grabs you by your hair, sliding forward to sit on your wrists.

One hand holds your head upwards, while his other holds your face. His hand engulfs your entire jaw as he forces you to look into his eyes. 

“I could take you right now, but I’ll save that for later.”

From a distance, you hear the shouts of policemen and the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Bakugo lets go and watches as your head falls back onto the floor.

You’re so caught up in the commotion you don’t catch his next words.

“You’ll be begging for it soon, anyway.”

You can do nothing but watch in handcuffs as Ren’s eyes open hazily and focus on you. 

“y/n, I’m so sorry,” he starts. 

You shake your head, smiling sadly at him. Was it really over? 

No, you promised you’d always be with him—

“Dynamight.” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes have shifted from you onto Dynamight, the one person that has been on his mind obsessively for the past few years.. 

Ren’s shouting at Dynamight now, who merely laughs in response. 

You don’t even notice that Dynamight’s staring at you.  

All you notice is that you’re not in Ren’s line of sight anymore. 

The words of policemen and Ren start swirling together as your heartbeat slows.

He’s not in love with you, is he?

You can hear your heart physically shattering.

He’s in love with Dynamight.

Bakugo’s still embarrassingly hard as he readjusts himself, sighing as he looks around his ransacked home. 

The police have taken longer than he’d hoped, making sure to photograph everything.

Even more irritatingly, the medics had tried to heal your teeth marks imprinted in his arm, which he had pulled away quickly. 

“I’m going to save this as evidence during the trial,” Bakugo had quickly lied. 

The young medic had blinked in confusion, but nodded eagerly, not wanting to defy the number one hero’s demand.

When his agency had first received the tip that you and Whiplash would be attempting a data breach, Bakugo had rolled his eyes and hesitated on flying back in early from his vacation.

You and Whiplash were shitty, third-rate villains, if you could be even labeled as such. 

You would always be deserted by your boyfriend, who’d dip the moment Bakugo stepped close to the crime scene. You (with your gorgeous, angered face that turns him on so fast) would be left behind for Bakugo to handcuff. 

Bakugo still remembers the first time he’d been called to a scene with you and Whiplash. 

One year ago, two petty, new criminals had attempted to rob a series of homes in upper Tokyo. 

Bakugo had been whisked away from his date with a pretty newscaster and was irritated to hell— he had been working all night sweet talking to the girl and was surely going to get laid— but when he had gotten to the scene, still pulling on his gloves, all thoughts of regret flew out the window.

“Get me the fuck out of here!” 

The female villain is shouting as she kicks her legs. 

The scene is laughable— her upper half is tapped in the tights washing machine and Bakugo takes his sweet time striding over to you, admiring the curve of your ass and the way you shake as you try to free yourself. 

“What happened here?” 

Bakugo smirks. He’d heard that the male villain had gotten away but the female was still somewhere on the premises. 

He’d been incredibly lucky to find you first. It’s hard to hold back from slapping your ass and ripping those black tights off of you, but Bakugo swallows and moves to touch your hip instead.

You squeak in surprise as you feel two fingers tracing a triangle onto your upper thigh. 

“Stop touching me, pervert! You sick freak! I have a boyfriend! I’ll kill you if you try anything!” 

Your scream is slightly muffled as you bang your hands on the sides of the circular machine.

Your back is aching from being bent over for the past ten minutes and you arch your back, holding back a pained moan. Whoever this asshole was, you were gonna rip him a new one when he freed you. 

Bakugo frowns as ‘boyfriend’ echoes inside his head. 

Were you being truthful or were you just trying to scare him off? 

It’s taking everything in him to not grind against you and with every passing second Bakugo feels closer to losing the battle with his sex driven core.

After another moment of deliberation, Bakugo reaches out, yanking you effortlessly out of the machine. 

God. 

You were just as pretty as he’d hoped. Face flushed and sweaty from being inside a confined space for so long, you collapse on your ass and fan yourself dramatically, taking in big gulps of fresh air before looking up to glare at him. 

“Fucking freak! What sort of perverted police officer are you?” You demand, frowning as Bakugo silently holds his hand out. 

A few seconds of silence pass before you awkwardly take it, allowing him to help you up. 

“Thank you,” you mumble as you wipe your hands on your shirt. 

Your eyebrows are still furrowed with frustration as you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Ugh… you’re so adorable, Bakugo wants to just squeeze you to death. 

Now he really wishes he hadn’t helped you out. You were helpless, bent over just perfectly, practically inviting him…. As his imagination runs wild, he feels the blood rushing towards his groin. 

Oblivious, you stretch your sore body, letting out a soft moan. You’re strangely relaxed, as if you were simply meeting an old friend. 

“I’m going to be arresting you now. Turn around,” Bakugo sighs, shifting his balance from foot to foot. If only he wasn’t an up-and-coming hero.

Your eyebrows raise and the ends of your lips quirk upwards. 

“Isn’t there something else I could do to get out of this?” You tease, turning around and holding your wrists behind your back.

Fuck. Is that you wiggling your ass or is he just seeing things? 

Bakugo’s breath hitches. The cold cuffs in his hands are only furthering his imagination. He’s about to pounce on you, but as he’s deciding which piece of your clothing he’ll rip away first—

“Don’t get any ideas, perv. That was a joke.” 

You giggle at his silence, looking back to glance at his face, which pales in humiliation.

You’re still laughing as Bakugo curses under his breath and shoves you harshly into the police car. 

You wouldn’t be laughing when he fucks you silly—which, he swears, he will one day. 

Since your destined meeting, you had been on Bakugo’s mind. 

Every. Single. Day. 

Your pout. Your delicate hands. Your arching back. Your whines and the way you try to fight back every time he walks you to the police van.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just a phase.

To Bakugo’s horror, when he met up with the same newscaster from that night, he found himself unable to get hard, no matter how much she sucked him off. 

He could have waved that off as an anomaly, but six girls later, Bakugo finally had to admit he may have a problem on his hands. 

Bakugo knew the solution to his ED and meaningless infatuation with you.

He was sure all he had to do was fuck you. Easy enough— he’s confident in his sex appeal.

But you were also an impossible target.

You and your villain boyfriend moved around constantly, living under various aliases. 

And when Bakugo could finally meet you (about once a month, when your boyfriend’s plans were foiled once again) you were whisked off into police custody before he could even bring up sex. 

How was he even supposed to get to that topic, anyways? 

Hey, y/n. I only get hard when I see you cry. Or, actually, when I just think about you at all. 

Wanna bang?

Bakugo halfheartedly (almost unconsciously, this is just an immediate reaction to seeing you) discards his shorts and briefs as he leans against the back of the couch. 

Staring up at the ceiling, he’s now regretting letting his agency call for backup. 

He’d had you under him, in his own home. He even had a condom ready in his shorts— something he’s started carrying around since last year in hopes he’d get ambushed by you randomly.

It’s unfortunate he couldn’t take things further with you, but for tonight, his imagination and thoughts of you would have to suffice. 

He almost saw you cry…

Bakugo’s almost drooling at the memory of your teary eyes as you stared at your boyfriend, who was dragged away into the back of a van despite his protests.

Fuck. What does he have to do to make you cry? 

He throughout beating up Whiplash would be enough, but maybe you didn’t like your boyfriend as much as he thought— that makes him smile. 

“Ugh…” 

Bakugo can barely hold back a soft moan as his cock hardens quickly, now standing in his hand. 

It’s hot, and typically Bakugo would shed all his clothes, but tiny specks of your blood decorate his white top. It’s like you’re basically touching him.

He admires the bruising teeth prints on his right hand, the one that’s now slowly stroking his dick. 

Your mouth was on his hand. His hand. The thought alone makes him want to cum.

Bakugo allows himself a full stroke, groaning as he presses himself deeper into the couch.

It almost feels as if he’s simply overstimulating himself, as if he’d already cum— that’s how strong you were as a stimulus. 

With how much you tease, you’d start with the tip, wouldn’t you? 

Bakugo gently holds his cock at the base with his left hand and thumbs the tip, rubbing his rough thumb against the wet precum. 

He’d manhandle you, he’s imagined it countless times, it’s what a girl like you needs. 

In his imagination, you’d be a pillow princess. He’s confident about this. 

Your attitude, the way you demand he frees you… it all points towards you being a menace in bed.

You would saunter into the bedroom, wearing nothing but thin lingerie (in his favorite color, dark orange, almost red). You’d smirk as you climb onto his bed, making yourself comfortable. 

Your pretty eyes would narrow as he walks in shirtless with a raging boner. 

You would be sitting there, legs outstretched for him to grasp. 

Bakugo would grab your ankles in each hand, focusing on kissing your precious feet before moving upwards. 

He’d press his lips against your shin, your knee, then suck your plush thighs, savoring your taste. 

He’d maintain his eyes on you throughout, admiring the way your lips part slightly and your heavy breaths. You’d glare at him when you notice him staring at you— you’re always fighting back, aren’t you?

But in bed he’s the one in control. 

He’d get to your panties and give your clothed clit a lick, pinning down your legs that threaten to close. 

Bakugo would suck, embracing the taste of lace and your juices leaking from across the other side of clothing. 

Contrary to popular belief, Bakugo wasn’t that full of himself. 

In bed, he only has one priority— your pleasure. 

Bakugo allows himself to slightly loosen his grip and start stroking his entire length slowly, just like how you’d do it. 

Just a few singular strokes feel so good, his entire body lights up, electricity running up his spine. 

He runs his thumb along the one long vein from the base of his cock, shivering. His cock is getting heavier in his hand and a familiar pressure is slowly building in his stomach. 

After a few moments, Bakugo would finally push aside the flimsy fabric, licking your clit directly. 

He’d be fisting his cock while doing so, like he’s doing now, stroking to the rhythm of his flattened tongue. 

He’d be almost drooling at the taste, sometimes letting himself wander to your hole and slip his tongue in your tightness. He’d continue alternating between sucking and licking, relishing in your increasingly loud moans. 

Your legs would begin to tremble beneath him and you’d start begging quietly despite your stubbornness.

Your eyes would start to roll to the back of your head— and that’s when he’d stop, pulling away entirely, still stroking himself, tightening his fist around his heat if necessary to prevent himself from releasing. 

You’d whine and maybe kick him, legs weakened from your ruined orgasm. 

A little edging never hurt anyone. 

It only makes the pleasure of a shared orgasm stronger. 

Bakugo would tease your hole, nudging at the entrance with the tip of his leaking cock. 

Without warning, he’d thrust— you’d groan from the intrusion, grasping the sheets. 

He’d start moving mercilessly, pulling out his length to the tip before slamming it back in, over and over. He would quicken with your moans fueling his pace. 

He’d lean over to capture your pretty lips with his, intertwining your tongues. 

Fuck, Bakugo really isn’t going to last, especially with his new favorite mental photograph—you lying on your back helplessly. Bakugo’s mind does the photoshop for him, removing the debris from the explosion and placing the two of you on his bed.

He’s stroking himself fervently now, at the same pace he imagines himself fucking you at. 

You’d be shaking under him, holding back your tears. And, in typical y/n fashion, your pride would force you to hold your moans back. You’d be pressing your trembling hand against your mouth, wouldn’t you? You would be biting down on it, with the same teeth that were clamped down on his own hand earlier.

You’d cum as he rubs his thumb roughly against your clit, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth dropping open. 

Bakugo would make sure to ride you out throughout the entirety of your orgasm before allowing himself to fall into how tight and wet you are and reaching his peak himself. 

“y/n… I’m cumming…” 

Bakugo bites back a groan as his eyes close, lips almost breaking from how hard he’s clenching down. 

Continuing to pump, Bakugo’s hips lift as he thrusts into his fist one final time—his orgasm is so strong, it feels as though he’s losing control of his entire body, shaking as he feels his cum squirt and his cock pulsing from the base. 

When Bakugo finally gathers his energy, he opens his eyes, blinking uncomfortably at the harsh lights of the living room. There’s warm cum now cooling all over his hands and the coffee table in front of him, only adding to the list of things he has to clean up after your little home invasion. 

Sighing, Bakugo stands up, grabbing a tissue and wiping the traces of his release away. 

It’s a little humiliating.

Yet another day of having to imagine you writhing under him to get off. 

Bakugo won’t admit it— he never will— but honestly, it’s not as bad as he makes it out to be.

But he knows the real thing will be better. 

Now, if only he could get his hands on you… 

a/n yeah so i rewrote this whole thing on 4 hours of sleep so its prob shit and the formatting is wonky but whatevs.

STAN ENHYPEN STREAM SWEET VENOM (ENG VER)

[jasmineandcedar]

“Put it on me”

Elriel and gendered views on lust and agency

I discovered ACOTAR in 2018. They became like comfort books during the pandemic, and I have reread them many times since then. Particularly, it was Azriel and Elain that grabbed my heart with both hands and wouldn’t let go. Still, I feel equally as impacted by their story six years later. Specifically, it’s the depiction of a deep connection developing between two quieter individuals and how SJM has written them to be the key to the other's character progression in such a tender way, that I seem unable to get over.

When I joined this fandom two months ago, a lot of things surprised me.

One thing being how parts of the fandom have framed Azriel and Elain’s relationship when it comes to lust, after Azriel’s BC. It has fascinated me and made me reflect on my own reading of the introduction of lust into their relationship, and since this blog is where I put my Elriel ramblings, I wanted to write down my thoughts on it.

Lust, agency and consent

Did Azriel feel lust in his BC? Yes. Thank the Lord. However...

I would like to start not with Azriel, but with Elain. Because what puzzles me the most is not that Azriel is at times mischaracterised as only lusting after Elain. This mischaracterisation seems mostly rooted in denial over where SJM is heading with Azriel and Elain, and the preference for another direction. I think it is rooted in shipwar discourse, and I don’t want to get involved in that. It doesn’t bother me what people ship. And after four books of sweet Elriel moments and the very clear thematic trajectory SJM has put Elain and Azriel on, we know it is an obvious mischaracterisation. I’ll just ignore it.

What puzzles me the most is not that. What puzzles me is that Elain’s agency is often removed when SJM's depiction of Azriel and Elain is criticized. And I wonder, why is Elain's lust disregarded? Elain is the driver of everything that happens in that almost kiss of the BC, and it’s so beautiful. It is such a good and heart-stopping sneak peek into the direction of her book that I was ready to join Azriel on my knees before Elain when I read it.

“It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck. He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp. Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck. It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. Wrong -- it was so wrong. He didn't care. He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue -- Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make. Elain bit her lower lip, and it took every ounce of Azriel's restraint to keep from putting his own teeth there. "I should go," Elain said, but made no move to leave. "Yes," he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat. Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their scars. Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege for his fingers to skin, tainting her with his presence. But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it. “Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them. Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Azriel is in the backseat in that scene. Every action of Azriel’s is a reaction to Elain’s consent. Elain is the opposite of an object of his lustful thoughts in that scenario. She’s steady as a rock, initiating every escalation of their almost kiss, even if her hands were trembling when she gave him her gift. I have to admit, I might have had tears in my eyes when I read that the first time. There was Elain, hands trembling, acting on her deeply held value that love can trump a mating bond. And Azriel is the antithesis of someone simply lusting after another when he responds to her cues of consent.

That kind of lust? Wholly dignifying. Holy and dignifying. If I had a religion, that stuff would be it. Beautiful. It's a timeless essence of romance.

This is Elriel’s kind of lust:

Elain sneaking out at night, defying the social expectations and pressures that have plagued her all her life. And when she finds Azriel there too, like a wonderful manifestation of her reclamation of agency, she acts. Confronted with yet another expectation thrown at her – the mating bond – she has decided to not fall in line this time. She is coming to know herself and her values – that “love could trump a mating bond”, that a mate is not entitled to her time and affection, that she “belongs to no one”, and that she can give her heart to whom she wishes. And then she acts. She chooses the one who always saw her.

What more? Azriel’s desperate longing, him staring at her gift for a year. Nesta noticing the pain in his eyes. Cassian noticing he is troubled. Azriel staying away for a year because they can’t have each other. And then, as he is miserably brooding in the sitting room after everyone has gone to sleep, there she is, like a lovely manifestation of the sunlight he was robbed of all his childhood. Only this time, he doesn’t stay away – because she invites him in. The substance of Azriel’s lustful thoughts? He’s thinking of her pleasure. Wanting desperately to make her feel good. Waiting for her invitation. Wanting to fall to his knees. Being mindful of how her noticing his arousal might affect her. And then, there it is – she’s aroused too! And then, her invitation - offer and permission – simultaneously one of the most beautiful and hottest lines in the series.

Elain has had such an impact on Azriel that her actions and encouragement (throughout the entire series) has him starting to slowly win his centuries long battle against demons telling him he’s not worthy of romantic love. Azriel pre-Elain is stagnant and miserable. Azriel after meeting Elain is on a trajectory towards character progression. Like Elain has done with Azriel since day one, she once again leans into his touch and encourages it in the BC, and he is fighting his intrusive thoughts of self-loathing because of her.

And what does Azriel do for Elain? He holds back and is attentive. He sees her, like he always has, and doesn’t act without invitation – he waits for her to exert that agency that is the key to her character progression. There is so much beautiful consent between them, I feel like I’ll evaporate into dust if I think too much about it because my brain can’t handle the beauty of it all... I'm starting to evaporate...

This kind of lust? DIGNIFYING.

The good stuff is in between the lines

I get that Elain and Azriel are quiet and subtle, and most characters in ACOTAR aren’t. We have to read them a little differently. There’s nearly only showing instead of telling when it comes to them. But that means we need to really look at what we’ve been shown - we have to read between the lines (which is so exciting!). SJM has shown a beautiful connection between them being built across several books. It was such a blessing to get a tiny sneak peek into Azriel’s mind and see how they communicate without words. We have seen it on page throughout four books, ever since the first dinner with the three brothers and three sisters when Elain sought quiet reassurance in Azriel, and he gave it to her without using a single word.

After all of those sweet moments across several books, if there’s one relationship that cannot reasonably be stamped with the “just lust” label, it is theirs. We didn’t need to hear Azriel describe the intricacies of his love for Elain’s personality in the BC. We have been shown how he’s drawn to her, without lust involved, for two years across several books. Lust is the natural next step.

That doesn't mean he didn't show us his love for her personality in the BC.

Isn't connecting the dots part of what makes reading exciting?

Here are some dots to connect:

The headache powder

Azriel mentions he has had it on his bedside table at HoW to simply stare at when he’s trying to fall asleep. That tells us that the headache powder is profoundly meaningful to him. It also tells us that Azriel is not just some dark and stone-cold torturer and Spymaster. He is, in fact, a deeply sentimental person. Someone who feels a lot. Someone who is profoundly impacted by a meaningful gift. The headache powder that Elain gave him, which made him feel joy that Feyre had never seen in him before, during that Solstice night which was the turning point for Azriel’s feelings for Elain. The point where his feelings for her became so strong, he had to stay away because the torment of them not being able to be together was too much (the torment that Nesta sees in his eyes during their second Solstice).

All of this is in the same BC (and in the books), and it is Azriel implicitly describing the process of falling in love with Elain because she’s kind and attentive and caring, because the gift of the headache powder is a product of those personality traits of hers.

To communicate without talking

Azriel struggles to talk about his emotions – Rhys says no one really knows how he feels. Not even his family whom he’s known for 500+ years.

[Rhys about what Azriel feels about his job as interrogator/torturer] “But Azriel … Cassian tries, I try—but I think the only person who ever gets him to admit to any sort of feeling is Mor. And that’s only when she’s pestered him to the point where even his infinite patience has run out”’ (ACOMAF).

Azriel didn’t need to be pestered. All he needed was peace and quiet, someone like Elain. Because here we have Elain, and Azriel lets us know she understands his emotional struggles without him putting them into words.

He offered her a smile back. "I wasn't sure if I should give you your present." He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

This is in the same BC, where Azriel also acknowledges that he has never dared to utter any of these thoughts out loud. Yet he didn’t need to for Elain to understand him. This is, again, Azriel acknowledging Elain’s attentive personality and what she means to him – what kind of connection they share.

Honestly, the BC is simply a mirror to their story so far. We don’t need it, but I’m glad we got it. It’s like SJM took a mirror and held it up to Elain and Azriel’s story across four books, condensed it, introduced the element of lust, and said: “remember what I've shown you – because here’s what’s next”. (Kind of like she did with Nessian’s bonus chapter…)

The pinnacle of SJM’s writing

To round off, I think their lust is simply a beautiful and natural progression of their clearly developing romantic relationship. I think it gets misunderstood partly to support a direction of the story that is clearly not where SJM is heading, but also partly due to our gendered views on lust and agency (which is the more interesting misunderstanding in my eyes).

The way SJM progressed Elriel’s relationship in ACOSF + the BCs (both of them) perfectly sets up Elain’s book and the external and internal conflicts Elain and Azriel will have to face to continue on their arcs towards character development. To reclaim her agency (Elain), and to acknowledge his self-worth outside of his duties and usefulness to others - to see himself as worthy of romantic love (Azriel). It challenges deeply ingrained views on gender and agency in society and is such a narratively powerful story.

For me, Azriel and Elain are the pinnacle of SJM’s writing so far. She’s outdone herself with them. This is also why I trust her fully with Elain’s book. I really, truly hope SJM writes more characters like them in the future, because she knows how to write captivating yet quiet, more introverted and introspective characters – and not many do within the romantasy genre. It’s an amazing skill, and a needed one.

I think that almost kiss is one of the best depictions of consent and mutual sexual and romantic desire in the series. I’m sure there will be much more of that beautiful offer and permission when Elain’s book is out. Come to think of it, I think SJM better take all the time she needs finishing up that book because I’m not sure I’m ready for it, even after all these years.

I’ll be questioning my belief system too when Elain goes all “put it on me” again.

[thunder-wolf64]

The two slugcats squirmed through tight tunnels and vast open spaces. Sizzle's stomach flip-flops in the lack of gravity; it's a strange sensation, there was no heft to his body, not to anything he touched. He would compare it to falling... but even then, you can still feel wind batting against your fur. The air here was still, the oh so familiar noises of the outside were all replaced by mechanical whirring.

Artificer reached out and snatched one of the small floating creatures from the air. She stuffed it into her mouth, "Eat these, and be quick."

Sizzle reached out as well, his paws grabbing onto the organism as it flashed an aray of bright colors. He but I it it quickly, hoping it wasn't in too much terror. The texture was chewy, with hardly any taste. "What are these?" Sizzle asked, reaching for a few more.

"Food. You can eat it, and you won't die from it." Artificer didn't need to eat anymore, she had already filled her belly with scavenger meat. It sickend Sizzle. But the green slugcat still needed to survive the cycle, he ate his fill and continued through the complex machinery.

Then the two suddenly popped into a different looking room, inhabitanted by something more complex. Similar structures to a slugcat, upright posture and diget-ed paws. But it was attached to wall with cords wrapping around it's metallic skin. It beeped weird noises as it stated at the two slugcats, seemingly annoyed.

Sizzle flinched at the familiar white-eyed-glare. He let his mother move in first, and she did so with confidence, the strange hunk of metal that's been following her around poped into existence and immediately caught the other beings, eyes. A moment later, gravity returned.

Sizzle smacked his face on the warm metal floor groaning as his mother landed safely. He really needed to work on his landings. Before Sizzle could lift himself up, a blaring light enveloped his vision and his ears rang with loud noise, similar to that of an explosion. He was propelled backwards and onto the floor once again. He clutched his head in pain, but there was a sudden clarity to the noise. A voice.

The two slugcats rose to their feet as this... iterator started to speak to the two...

[timeskip i ain't writing the spiel 5P gives Arti]

What a strange thing, Sizzle was having trouble wrapping his head around being in the presence of something god-like. Scavengers were known to exaggerate their stories, but the things they've said about gods in sky boxes suddenly were more believable.

Artificer was taking it in stride. She knew what coming here would give her. And now Sizzle must question the reality of the situation. There's no way his mom could survive slaughtering an entire city. It was impossible. But she seemed entirely confident.

She heard what she needed and waved Sizzle back up to the exit as gravity disappeared once again. She moved out through the pipe, but her son heared a shift in the room. The iterator, Five Pebbles. It made him come to a halt.

"You, green one. I need to mention something to you." His voice echoed in Sizzle's skull.

Sizzle angled his body around to face the iterator. Sure listening was uncomfortable, but his words must be important.

"I have seen pieces of your journey, and you seem to exhibit complex social behavior. So if you can prosses this information, I think you should know it," blue overseers popped up around the room, flashing bright holographic screens, "as much as one animal can lie to another one... well, I don't think you should be lied to."

Sizzle looked on, confused, and the holograms started to project a familiar environment... and a familiar friend.

---

hopefully the writing made up for the art! This is all I got motivation for right now, but I think it should give you guys a kick! Sorry for any typing mistakes, new phone and such.

[cillyscribbles]

making toilette and taking repose ft. victoria and mr mistoffelees :)

“Can you tie a bow on my tail, please?” Victoria asked, loudly, and took special care to draw out the please. She put both her paws to her chin and chopped them down as though she meant it more that way. “I have a very special ribbon for tonight; look, look – it’s pink!”

‘Can’t you do it yourself?’ Mistoffelees asked her in turn, small in his annoyance – as if he hadn’t things to do in preparation!

But Victoria, who was clever in all manners of ways she hid by just being that much sweeter, had already stood on her tiptoes and was mid-way through pulling her leg upward and bending the knee over her own head.

“I’m stretching,” she said, even louder, though perhaps without catching on to the fact there was not a sign of effort in her voice. “Can’t you see? Oh, Mistoffelees, if I don’t stretch enough I’ll sprain something in the Ball!”

And then she would insist on him sitting down with her and wiping her tears and fixing her ankles, because such was a magician’s fate once he decided to associate with a kitten quicker than a cards-dealer. Woe was he!

“Besides,” Victoria continued, unbothered by the ridiculous shape into which she’d contorted her legs, “you need practice anyway, don’t you?”

That was true. Or so he said, on occasion, when he needed a moment away and alone. It would do him no good to denounce it now, he found, and so was resigned to his fate.

‘Fine,’ he told her, with no great joy about it, though the ribbon which she presented him – bright, and even pinker than reported – was a very pleasant texture between the paws. Still; he was being cajoled and bamboozled into this, and she would carry the weight of her crimes of persuasion for many moons to come, he would make sure of it.

It need not be said that the reason to this was not that Victoria was particularly averse to tying her own bows, or that Mistoffelees was all that hesitant to help her. The reason was, of course, that the pair were both cats. No cats, magical or otherwise, knew how to tie a bow, and, by virtue of being cats, would never admit to it either.

Such is the Law of the Cat; and there is hardly anything at all to be done about that!

[saturnville]

I need a one shot of Amelia & John with their future kid(s)? After WW2 is over or them at buck’s wedding I’m desperate😭

a different era, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae egan. content: amelia and john experience a different era of their lives. an: hope you enjoy!

taglist: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

“My pretty girl…” His voice was hardly above a whisper. The swaying of the wind outside was louder than he was. There was a point in time where he never thought he’d be in this position; rocking in a chair by a window, holding his child in his embrace.

His life was different. In just two years, the trajectory of his path. He was once a partying bachelor with no care in the world. Until she came along and turned the world upside down.

He found himself married. Married and with a child. Who’d known life would have come to this? It was shocking, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He smiled softly.

John tightened his grip around the baby in his arms. Joanna Adeline Egan was a godsend. A gift from God birthed through the blessing named Amelia Mae. She was beautiful; not much bigger than his forearm, and lighter than a feather. She was precious. Joanna looked just like him; slender eyes, broad nose, and straight lips, but had her mother’s complexion and hair texture. A beautiful masterpiece created by two artists in love.

John’s ears perked at the sound of the floorboards squeaking. By the scent of vanilla and sandalwood, he noticed her presence. He whispered a quiet greeting and welcomed the kiss against his temple. “Hey, Rose.”

“Hi, my love. Did it take her long to go back down?” He shook his head. Newborns were a lot of work, but surprisingly, Johanna was alright. She was calm like her mother; he was glad she got that trait.

“You’re a great father,” Amelia whispered, draping her arm across his shoulder. He’d done a complete 180 from the time they had their first break-up and it brought her heart joy. He said he was committed to her and he proved it. They were engaged then married shortly after. Now, here he was; holding their daughter against his bare chest as he rocked her back to sleep. They were in a different era. She smiled softly, “Thank you…”

“Thank you…there’s no her without you,” he said after some time. He finally tore his eyes away from the baby in his arms. “I love you forever, Amelia.”

Her dimples appeared as she smiled as widely as her tired features would let her. “I love you, Egan. For the rest of my ways.”

As he gazed at his sleeping daughter in his arms, John felt contentment wash over him like a wave. In this moment, surrounded by the love of his family, he knew that life had led him exactly where he was meant to be.

[answer2jeff]

when it rolls in like thunder: teaser.

dad!carmy x hispanic mom!reader series teaser!

warnings : dad!carmy x mom!reader, reader is implied female and hispanic, tooth-rotting fluff, mentions of childbirth. obviously.

authors note : guys i know i'm late to the dad!carmy train.. but give me a chance!!! i tried so hard to not absolutely love the idea of carmen being a dad and i failed miserably. take this as an apology. and shout out to my hispanic girlies bc we deserve some fics made specifically for us !

"Levántate, princessa mia," you gently raised her chubby arms and sat Valeria up in her barred crib, the golden finish complimenting her collection of hand-me-down stuffed animals from your childhood.

You reached for her soft beige pants that rested on her little dresser next to her crib. She'd only recently grown into it, going up a size or two now that she finally turned 8 months old. You and Carmen saw them at a thrift shop in Chicago during your, although beautiful, excruciatingly long pregnancy.

He knew he had to see his little girl in them, rocking them beautifully just like her stylish and tasteful mother.

—

"What do y'think, honey? I like 'em. I think she'll look so cute. Cheap for the quality, too. Damn."

Carmen felt the thickness of the fabric with his finger tips, rubbing them together through the cloth. He nodded his head in approval. He raised them up to let you get a closer look as he beamed with a grin.

"Oh, these are adorable! They're gonna take a little while for her to grow into 'em, though, no? Parasen un poco grande, amor."

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if an article of clothing that you weren't even sure would fit would be worth 8 precious dollars in your joint bank account.

"Well, we don't know how big she's gonna be. She'll grow into 'em."

Carmen was pretty convincing. His voice soft and persuasive and his pure excitement for fatherhood was enough to reel you in to every proposal he made. How could you say no when he was just so enthusiastic?

"What about you, sweet girl? Huh? What do y'think?"

Carmen set the pants back down on the clothing rack, kneeling down just to slightest bit as he raised a hand to your belly. You peered down at him in awe, the sight of him already bursting with love for your child making you go weak.

And as if you couldn't be more angelic, Carmen thought you were more beautiful than ever carrying his child. He moved the palm of his hand into a slow and gentle circle.

The kick of your soon to be newborn daughter against his hand was reassuring. The two of you nearly gasped, laughing in unison at her comedic timing.

—

Valeria let out squeals and babbles of impatience as you rolled her little lace socks over her small feet. The hassle of getting dressed in the morning, even after she got the leverage to make an absolute mess of her onesie while she ate breakfast in her high-chair.

Even bibs couldn't catch the sloppy mush of crushed strawberries before she'd wash it down with the liquid gold that was your breast milk. Valeria had a tendency to try and bite down during feeding when her mouth was all gums. But now that her teeth were nearly done coming in, it was an even more frequent offense. It startled you every time.

You tried switching to bottles: the ones with realistically covered and textured silicone nipples with a stopper to avoid the possible spills of milk, but they never sufficed. Valeria had to have the 'real thing,' or she was hardly ever satisfied. Carmen wondered how you did it. Well, he knew how, logistically, but he knew that it had to be emotionally and physically exhausting.

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm tryin' to hurry. Geez, you've been spoiled since birth, mija," you sighed dramatically, nodding your head and placing a kiss on Valeria's forehead, her hair tickling your philtrum.

Suddenly, you could hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. Valeria immediately squirmed vigorously and smiled ear to ear as you scooped her into your tired arms. It was like she could smell him, the way she knew immediately that it was her dad.

"Who's that? Is that Daddy?" you turned to Valeria and bounced her up and down, her little hands already flaying around as giggle after giggle escaped her mouth. Your beloved husband called out for you once or twice, quickly realizing you'd been in the nursery when he heard the sound of his girls.

"Hi, hone—Oh my goodness!" Carmen gasped, peeking his head into the heaven-like bedroom. It seemed like he was immediately drawn to Valeria like a magnet. His white t-shirt stuck to his skin from the summer heat, his baseball cap casting a shadow on his face. He almost looked a little out of breath.

He walked in while gushing at the sight of Valeria all dressed in her mothers arms. The off-white, soft lettuce-cut top paired perfectly with her socks. The white ribbon in her hair literally tying the look together.

"Dada!" Valeria pointed her little finger to him, trying to escape your embrace and jump into Carmen's arms if she truly could. She'd become especially talkative lately. But she hadn't quite figured out to greet you with a sickly sweet 'mama' whenever you came around to pepper smooches on her head and smooth, chubby cheeks. You rolled your eyes playfully as you stood beside him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Did mommy get you all dressed up this morning? Hm?" Carmen smiled sweetly at his daughter and scrunched up his nose, just to hear her laugh at his expressions. He held her close against him with his right arm so that Valeria could rest her little head against his shoulder.

"Yep, I sure did," you chuckled, letting Carmen wrap his arm around your waist and draw you in for a quick kiss. Your hand lied on top of Carmen's. Every vein and knuckle was caressed by the pad of your thumb.

"Sorry I took a while. Jus' wanted to pick up some groceries down the street,'" Carmen mumbled into your hair before planting a kiss on the top of your head. "Thank you for bein' with 'er, baby."

You only nodded your head, leaning into his touch as your eyes fluttered shut. Last night was quite a riot. But Carmy, being the gracious hero he often was, arose the moment he heard sweet Valeria crying out for touch and attention from her crib. That baby monitor was the only thing that could help Carmen's anxieties calm and let him sleep at night, but was also the only thing waking him up nowadays.

"We got a real princess on our hands, huh?" you smiled at Valeria, her head rested on Carmen's chest and her hand pressed against his peck. She looked just as content. Her curly hair was thick and full of life. Those Italian genes ran strong. With the face of her mothers, friends and family raved about your resemblance everywhere you went with her. But those bright blue eyes and small smile of hers? All Carmy.

"Two princesses on our hands," Carmen corrected you.

With the angelic face of her mothers and fierce, yet tender eyes of her father, she'd be unstoppable.

"My princesses. My girls."

She already was, actually.

[restinslices]

I would love to request a fic of Ares x fem reader please? Maybe based of your post of being Ares favorite mortal lover and defending her or whatever idea you may have?

I think you and someone else requested this so COME GET YA’LL JUICE.

I made this sadder than it needed to be but it’s an illness at this point. Warning for a down bad Ares. Like, OOC type of down bad

Gods are typically very predictable when it comes to love.

It's usually temporary love and honestly a mortal is lucky if it lasts more than a month. They get together, have a baby then the god moves on before the baby is even born. It sounds heartless because it is, but that's just how it was when you were immortal. You got bored very quickly and chasing after mortals gave you something to do when life got too quiet.

That's what typically happens.

Sometimes though, the gods find very special mortals.

For Hermes, it was May. For Poseidon, it was Sally. For Ares, it was you.

Ares constantly watched over you and your child, even if you never knew. He couldn't be with you and he knew this, but that didn't mean he couldn't make sure you were ok and help out occasionally. Sometimes it'd be something as small as leaving you gifts to cheer you up, and sometimes it'd be something as big as delivering “bad luck” to your boss when he was being rude.

So imagine how upset he got when he watched your new partner continue to mistreat you.

Zeus made himself very clear.

Absolutely DO NOT commit any acts of violence against a particular mortal named Trent.

Ares thought about listening. Then Ares thought about the fact that he was willing to allow a war to happen between Zeus, Hades and Poseidon and he decided that since he's done a lot worse, a few felonies wouldn't be so bad in the grand scheme of things.

~~

The arguing made Ares pause before he could knock.

He heard your voice. “In my bed Trent?! Are you serious?!”.

The male groaned in annoyance, “If you can't accept that relationships have hiccups then maybe you don't actually care for me! I'll leave you alone right now if that's what you want! It's just fuck me, right?! After all I do?!”.

“What do you do?!”.

“I told you I had demons I was fighting!”

“Is the demon monogamy?”

He huffed and he swung the door open while going on and on about the so called demons he was fighting that you wouldn't understand, and if Ares had Hades powers, he'd send him some actual demons to worry about.

His eyes landed on Ares, “who are you?”.

You came into view right behind Trent and your eyes widened.

It was strange. Ares hardly paid attention to little details when it came to someone's appearance. After a while his eyes skimmed over people, and even if a mortal managed to catch his attention, he usually forgot what they looked like before the week ended. You were different though and if this is what Poseidon and Hermes felt then he understood why it was so hard for them to let their mortals go.

He wasn't necessarily an artistic guy but he could pick out the specific shade of your eyes, even if it was the most basic eye color. He memorized the shape of your hair and its color. He memorized certain mannerisms or habits you had, no matter how small. If someone blindfolded him, he was sure he'd still be able to find you just by hearing your laughter. He'd pat the area around him as he walk towards you and once he felt your hand in his, he'd know he was home. And sure, there was a mortal out there that had the same texture on their fingertips but he didn't care about them. He cared about you and even if you thought you weren't special, he would strongly disagree. Mortals didn't stay in his mind. You did. That meant something.

But Trent didn't seem to understand how special you were. He didn't understand that you were doing him a service just by standing near him and it made him angrier than he expected.

“This is Ares”, you said. It was embarrassing for him to admit how much he loved how his name sounded on your tongue, so he never admitted it. At least not out loud.

“Like the Zodiac Aries?”. He was going to correct him and make several snarky comments but you spoke before him.

“A-R-E-S. Ares. Like the God of War. Spirit of Battle. Mars for the Romans” you explained and the smirk that formed on his face further proved how down bad he was for you. The shit was embarrassing.

“I'm the father of her child” Ares added and Trent did not look pleased. He looked back and forth between the two of you and scoffed.

“You've been cheating on me, haven't you?”. He didn't even give you a chance to respond. “You're on my ass about what I did but you've already been whoring around. Just like I fucking thought”

“My kid is eight” you said simply. Ares hated that although you kept stepping back, he kept moving towards you. His shoulders were tall and proud, like he was trying to intimidate you into admitting something that wasn't true.

“I bet you're still sleeping with him or any other man that looks at you! I should've known better than to dedicate myself to a single mother. You're all just cheap sl-” his sentence was stopped abruptly when Ares grabbed onto his shoulder. At first Ares didn't realize how hard he was squeezing his shoulder, but once he noticed the sounds coming out of his mouth and saw his pathetic attempts to pry his hand off of him, Ares squeezed harder.

“She missed a very crucial part” his hand squeezed harder still and he pushed down, making the man hit his knees on the ground hard. “Ares, God of War. Spirit of Battle. Protector of Mistreated Women”, he glanced at you then looked back down at the man clenching his shoulder under him. “Have you been mistreating this woman?”.

Trent looked at you but all that did was fuel Ares’ with more rage. The nerve to treat you so cruelly for months then look to you for help. He yanked his shoulder towards him, earning a shout from him. “Don't look at her. Look at me”.

You placed your hand over his, “let him go”. You spoke softly as if you cared for this speck of dirt that probably wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire. Why? Why do this for him when there are millions of other men out there you could be with? Men that would treat you 100x better than Trent had. Men that would shower you with the praises you deserve and stand by you loyally and ask about your day and do whatever other bullshit mortals do that Ares would do with you if he weren't a god.

Trent had you but he didn't deserve you. Area didn't have you but he deserved you. The idea of Ares deserving something instead of just being given it was strange and foreign and even though gods couldn't get headaches, this is the closest he's felt to it.

“Let him go” you repeated slowly.

“I should get somewhere high before I do”.

“Hilarious” you said, although he wasn't joking. “You're gonna hurt him”. That was the plan. “I'm being serious, Ares. Let him go”.

“And then?”

“Then you leave”. But he stays? You were willing to let this man get away with all he's done within your months of dating and shoo the father of your child away?

“I should kill him anyway. He knows too much”.

He was right. Mortals that didn't have demigods weren't supposed to know about the gods existence, so technically killing him wouldn't be completely out of left field. Technically he somewhat had the right to. That's what his deluded mind was telling him anyway. And even if the man on his knees didn't know what he did now, he still deserved a form of punishment.

Your minds seemed to be linked, because you shook your head at him, like you were telling him “no. Don't do that”. You crouched down in front of Trent who was still desperately trying to free his shoulder. “You want him to let go don't you?”

“Well obviously!”. Ares didn't like the attitude and he was going to push down hard enough to dislocate his shoulder, but you put your hand back on top of his and shook your head again.

“He will. First you have to swear to something. Make an oath. Swear that you'll never come back here. Swear that you'll never talk to me again and you'll never mistreat another woman again. Swear on the River Styx. If you break this oath, something terrible will happen. Won't it Ares?”. You looked up at him, expecting an answer. Ares didn't know the answer though. He knew what happened to gods and demigods but regular average civilians? He assumed it was something bad, but he didn't know how bad. Since he didn't have a solid answer, he just voiced what he wanted to do.

“If you break your oath, I'll find you. I'll tear your legs off so you can't run, then your arms so you can't crawl away. I'll give you medical attention so you don't die and I'll make your pathetic form into a punching bag for when I get bored and trust me, I get bored often”. Ares couldn't see how he looked but he knew he looked scary enough by the way the guy shuddered and looked away from him. He even started to cry, which Ares found ridiculous. He wasn't crying earlier. He was on top of the world thinking punishment wouldn't come and even now he wouldn't truly be punished.

The guy repeated everything you said in between disgusting sobs. He swore on the River Styx and Ares was sure he didn't even know what that truly meant. He just wanted to be let go. Ares didn't want to let go but after some more coaxing from you, he let go reluctantly. Trent ran out the house, still sobbing and holding onto his shoulder.

“Thanks for that” you said when you rose back to your feet, but it didn't sound like an actual thank you. You sounded annoyed. “He'll squeal but no one will believe him about being attacked by a god. He'll drive himself crazy or get himself sent somewhere. He'll always check for you behind him. Is that enough punishment for you?”. Ares wanted some sort of physical punishment right then and there, but he'd either deal with him when you weren't looking or decide this will do. Depended on his mood later on.

“Why'd you do that? Now he won't come back!”

“You made him swear never to come back”, but you didn't seem to like him pointing out that fact. You rolled your eyes,

“Yeah, because I knew you'd break him next time you saw him”. Good point, but why did you still want him around?

“You deserve better”

“And what's better? Someone like you? Someone who pops in from time to time? Someone our child hardly knows? If that's what I deserve, well… I guess I must not deserve much. Maybe I did something wrong in a past life”. Your words cut deep. They cut deep because you had a point. Ares put you in a terrible situation. A lonely one. He made you a single mother and although he didn't talk to mortals often, he was still able to pick up on how mortals felt about single mothers. The unnecessary shame that came with having a child but with no father, even if it wasn't their fault. A large chunk of the mistreated women he protected were single mothers themselves. There was an unnecessary amount of shame thrown onto their shoulders. They could've left a terribly abusive relationship, but all of it was still their fault. They were questioned why they couldn't just stick it out, because surely a child with no father was worse than a child with an abusive father who could “get better” if they just “stopped making problems”. He hated it. Now it was hitting him that he helped place this shame on your shoulders. He never said anything but he still decided to have a child with you even though he knew he'd never be able to stay. He wanted to say he made a mistake, but could it really be a mistake if it all meant he had you in his life even if it was only for fleeting moments?

“You don't need him” he got out finally but you had a counter.

“I need someone. I need someone here. I-I… listen I know Trent can be a handful but it's better to have a handful than nothing at all. You have no idea how lonely it gets and even with him it's still lonely because I can't talk to him about any of this stuff. Do you know how exhausting it is moving a child from school to school? Some schools won't even take her! Says she has disciplinary issues and I should do home schooling but how is that possible if I have to work so we don't end up on the streets?!” your voice got louder and if this was anyone else he'd make them apologize for raising their voice at a god. He didn't interrupt you though. Each word was like twisting a knife inside him and he figured that you should be able to decide when to pull it out.

“Other moms don't want their children anywhere near ours. They think she'll be a bad influence. Some of them aren't bold enough to say it, but I can tell what they're thinking! They treat her like some terrible disease their children will catch and I can't explain why she is the way she is! I can't say 'oh well her dad is a god and the monsters she draws are things she's seeing on the street and you can't see it but honestly she's in more danger than you’. I have to say 'they're just pictures. She's just creative!’ ” You began pacing and rubbing your hands together. “I'm alone and sometimes I don't wanna be alone. Having another adult here keeps the walls from closing in. Ugh. What type of mother am I? I can't explain any of this to my child and I can tell how alone she feels too. I think… I think I'm her only friend. She hears what people say about her. She thinks something is wrong with her. She thinks she's a burden. What eight year old thinks like this?”, You sat on the couch and put your head in your hands. “I'm a failure…”.

“Sad” wasn't the word Ares would use to describe how he felt. Maybe not even “sorrowful”. There had to be a better word to explain how he ached watching you fall apart. Ares wasn't good at personal talks, but he sat beside you and spoke

“You are not a failure”. It was simple, but he hoped it worked anyway.

You looked over at him with an expression he knew would be imprinted into his mind for eternity. “Then what am I?”.

He could go on and on about what you were and how much you meant, but he knew he didn't have much time. Zeus probably already knew he was here. He was nosey like that and he'd do anything to make sure everyone followed his lead. He wished he could tear him apart but Ares knew better than to voice any of the malicious thoughts he had or to try and harm him. Maybe a time would come, but it wasn't now.

“You're doing your best with the heavy burden I put on you”

“She's not a burden” you said quickly. “I'm just not sure what to do anymore. Everything I do seems like the wrong choice”. Ares wanted to approach a topic you seemed to despise but either he was predictable or that mind link was a real thing because next you said “No”.

“That camp-”

“Your family will mold her into what they want her to be and respectfully your family… uhh…” he got it. The gods didn't take kindly to insults and he wouldn't be surprised if you finished your sentence and then was magically turned into a pig.

“She needs to be a warrior. Camp will attempt to make her a warrior”. You didn't seem pleased.

He hated your stubbornness. He didn't watch other demigods as much, but even he knew their mortal mother's tended to die because of their own stubbornness. They'd refuse to send them to camp and when their child realized who they were and the monsters came running… well… there was a good chance everyday struggles wouldn't be a problem anymore.

“She'll realize at some point and you can't protect her”.

“I know” you admitted. The defeat was all over your face and in the heavy breath you took. You laid your head on his arm and intertwined your fingers together. “She's gone for tonight. She's staying with my mother down the street. She's the only one that takes her in sometimes. Can you stay over tonight?”.

“What are you suggesting?”

“You're the furthest thing from funny. I'm not having one of your kids again, are you insane?”. Although you said he wasn't funny, and he wasn't joking in the slightest, you both managed to laugh.

“Seriously, can you stay?”. The sky was clear and sunny but thunder rumbled.

If Ares was granted three wishes from a genie, he'd use all of them to watch Zeus die a horrible miserable death over and over again. What harm would one night do?

Well… a demigod could come out of one night but if Zeus didn't like it, he didn't have to watch.

He knew that argument wouldn't work and he didn't have to speak for you to know the answer. You scooted away from him and you took a sudden interest in the floor.

“I would if I could-”

“I know. I understand”. Another thing he hated about you. You were too understanding. He wanted you to scream at him. He wanted you to scream about how much you hated him and how he ruined you. He wanted you to swear at him and tell him to never step foot near you again. Anything that would make separating easier.

“Ares” you spoke, breaking the silence that filled the room. “If I agree to having her sent to camp, will you watch over her? Can you send one of those- what were they again? Oh! Satyrs. Can you send one of those and make sure they both get to camp safely?”

He didn't have to think. “Yes”.

“And claim her. Maybe not too soon though. I remember when I went to camp people got jealous when their parents would send them letters. I know my camp wasn't a god camp but you know what I mean. I just don't want her to catch unwanted attention”.

“Of course”

“Oh and one more thing. I know I'm asking for a lot but can you give me to the end of the school year. I don't know if she'll want to come back home or if it'll even be safe and-”

“You want time”. You didn't respond but he knew the answer. He knew how hard letting go would be for you and the thought that meeting you was a mistake crossed his mind again. You deserved to have a regular family and a regular husband that you had regular conversations with. Not this.

Thunder rumbled again.

“You have to go” you didn't sound like you wanted him to leave and he didn't want to leave either but he knew he had no choice. He stood up,

“I'll see you again. I promise”

“You've made enough promises, you don't have to do that. You can…” the words seemed like they burned to get out, “you can move on”.

He wanted to argue and say that he'd never truly move on from you. That you were the most memorable mortal he'd been with and he had no plans on leaving you be, but then he realized how selfish that was. Damming you to a life of sitting and waiting until he had time to see you. The thought of you sitting home alone waiting for any sign of him, signs that he wouldn't be able to give as often as you needed made him feel an immense amount of guilt.

“You make me an oath” he started, “I don't know what happens when mortals break an oath they make on the River Styx, so swear on anything that's important to you that you'll find a guy who deserves and appreciates you. Not another guy like before. Not some guy to fill in the empty space in here. I mean a man who will treat you right until you become just a memory”. Knowing he'd never be that man filled him with a burning sensation he couldn't quite explain. Some people would say “I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy” but Ares wasn't like that. He'd only wish this on his worst enemies. Not someone he got into an argument with, or someone he didn't like. Only the enemies that made him spit when he heard their name.

“I swear on our daughter” was all you said and it was all he needed to hear. He didn't give you a kiss or hug you goodbye. It'd make it too hard to leave. He just left. He closed the door behind him like nothing had happened and left you behind.

There was a small part of him that selfishly wanted you to break that oath because that'd mean he'd get to see you again, even if it was only to commit violence. The bigger part of him knew that was selfish. You needed to keep true to that oath, even if it would destroy him to watch you call someone else the love of your life eventually.

This could’ve been a heeheehaha jokey thing but I’m an asshole so here we are. I hope it’s clear that I write requests in the order I get them btw. This isn’t towards the anon, I’m just saying to everyone if a request is taking a hot minute I’m either ill, busy, or working on one that came before yours. I also try to do one requests a day to keep things spread out. Posting all the requests on one day will upset me and my homegirls.

[feralghoulie]

Note: This is a day late, but shh. This one was. Interesting to say the least. Hope you guys it enjoy.. 🤭

MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT. SEMI NON-CON/SEMI FORCE WARNING.

Promt: Somnophilia (Day 3)

Summary: Cooper isn't known for his patience. He takes what he wants, whatever the situation. His thoughts take over his actions while Lucy is sound asleep.

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) X Lucy Maclean

☆

It Can't Wait.

"Oh and in the vault, i was a teacher! I think I worked really well kids. I've always wanted a kid. Did you have a ki-" Lucy was abruptly cut off.

"Listen honey. I'd love to listen aboutcha life in the vault. But don't you think it's a little late to keep talkin. We've got quite the long day ahead of us." He said leaning his back against the metal wall. Eyeing the dying fire in front of them.

She frowned. "I mean. I guess so." She said a little sad. Entertaining herself from talking his ear off. She wanted him to open up but he was more of a listener. Sitting back and nodding his head as she spoke. Eyeing her body, hardly hearing a word she said.

He groaned as he stretched out his arms. "C'mon Luce." He said standing up from the milk crate he had pulled up. Grabbing some old pillows off the ground and beating the dust off. Walking over to the beaten bed across the floor. He tossed the pillows onto it, and searched for something that could do as a blanket.

She took the hint, crawling into bed like a sad child. She unzipped her vault soon, and wiggled her way out of it. The Ghoul pausing a moment to try and sneak a look. He fucking loved when she would walk around in just her tank top and panties.

Throwing obvious glances as he pretended to keep looking for a blanket. He wanted to rip her clothes off. Tear scars into her skin. Mark her entire body. Fuck sleep. His cock was throbbing. All she had done was get comfortable for bed. He needed to contain his thoughts.

He grumbled to himself. Turning to fix his tent. Turning back around, giving up on his short hunt for blankets. Lucy was digging through her bag. On her knees on the bed, her ass looking perfect through her snug underwear.

He assumed she had no idea how much he wanted her. God. He wanted to fuck her brains out. So much innocence and love behind her eyes. Not yet tormented by the wasteland. He needed to be the first.

She pulled out a can of water and cracked it open. Taking a sip and setting it aside. Attempting to get comfortable on the bed. Springs threatening to stab your skin if you moved the wrong way.

"Are you going to be keeping watch?" She asked untieing her hair. Running her hands through her hair.

"Yeah." He responded. Poking the fire with a nearby board. "Don't worry." He said smiling. Reassuring she was safe to sleep.

She nodded her head graciously and flipped from her side to her back. Adjusting her body until she was comfortable.

"Cold?" He whispered. Dragging his crate closer to the bed, and sitting down.

"Yeah.." She huffed. Her eyes closed.

Cooper removed his overcoat and draped it over her. She pulled it close to her face. Smelling it in secrecy. Smiling as a thank you.

"Goodnight... Ghoul." She said softly. Drifting off to sleep as she thought about what his real name may be. What monsters would attack them tomorrow.

Although Cooper had a whole different set of thoughts. He stared at her. Intensely. Her chest poking out just a little bit from the jacket. Her legs almost fully covered.

He wanted to take her. He wanted to rip her skin apart. He wanted her to scream. Not in pain, but in full body pleasure. His fingers would fit so perfectly into her empty pussy.

His textured cock would leave a mark in her mind. No one after him would ever feel as good. He thought of every position. Her breasts bouncing in his face. Bending her over, slapping her ass until it was a swollen red.

He grabbed at his cock through his pants. Holding it tightly. Rubbing his thumb over it. She would puke on the size of his cock. He knew she wouldn't be able to handle it, and that made it all the better.

She must taste sweet. She would be soaked from him barely touching her. She's a delicate and soft creature. He couldn't handle the thoughts much longer.

His cock straining his striped pants. "Fuck.." He said under his breath. Staring at her figure on the bed. Already softly snoring. He needed to bury his cock in her..

He started to undo his belt. Moving with haste. She was asleep, she wouldn't see him get his pants off. No harm, no foul. Once his belt was undone, he slid his pants down. Not having underwear, he got those stolen ages ago.

His pants now pooled at his ankles, he was tugging at his cock. Leaning back against the metal wall. Touching himself wasn't going to be enough. He ached so bad it was almost painful.

Against his better judgment, he quietly stood up. Hovering over her body, standing at the foot of the mattress. He ran through thoughts in his head. Debating if this was wrong. He didn't care.

He squat down. Getting onto his stomach and inching his way forward. Holding himself in a way his cock wouldn't come in contact with the rough floor or bed. He carefully moved his jacket upwards. Off of her legs, scrunched onto her stomach.

He eyed her panties. He adjusted his body, freeing both his hands. He hooked his fingers onto the wasteland. Very carefully pulling them down. Setting them inside.

Her pussy was perfect in every single way. Unshaved, but a little wet. An absolutely inviting smell as he drooled. He got closer, pressing his stomach onto the bed. Drawing his tongue out to taste her.

Sweat mixed with her natural taste made his cock twitch. Holding every single muscle back not to shove his cock into her. He shoved his face into her crotch. Placing his hands on either side of her body.

He drew his tongue out again. Separating her walls with just his tongue. Licking stripes as he indulged in her taste. He was surprised she hadn't started to stir. Afraid she may wake up and jump out of fear.

He sucked on her clit, and balanced with one hand, using the opposite hand to grip onto his cock. Slow sensual strokes as he enjoyed his meal.

Lucy was slowly waking up, feeling an extremely warm sensation between her legs. A heavy weight on her sides. Half conscious she questioned what was happening. Her body feeling deep sparks of pleasure. She opened her eyes slowly, opening wide at what she saw.

The ghoul was ravishing her. His mouth latched onto her clit. She closed her eyes tight and opened them again. Seeing his closed eyes, his hand furiously working at his cock.

She was confused, but couldn't deny she almost happy to wake up to the experience.

Closing her eyes and trying not to move. A little harder now that she knew what was happening.

Wanting to squirm and moan. Unsure if she should let him know she had awoken, she relaxed into the bed.

He pulled back from her pussy, and ran his finger against her wet slit. Sucking on his middle finger and eyeing it. Pressing it and wiggling into her hole carefully.

She couldn't hold back, she jolted and he looked up. She opened her eyes, locking eyes with him. He didn't say anything yet. Just sharing a mutual look of desire.

"Wh.. what are you doing." She said softly. Unsure if she was supposed to be enjoying this.

He kept pressing his finger in. Staring at her as he did so, waiting for it to be completely in.

"Well. I wasn't expectin you to wake up, but i suppose that was a little stupid to assume." He said clicking his tongue.

"I'll stop if you want me to." He said pulling his finger out. Wiping it on her inner thigh..

She was quiet for a moment. Gasping at the absence of his finger. "Um- I don't- you can.. you can keep going." She said accepting she did enjoy this. Being woken up like this was something incredibly new. Not new like seeing monsters, or leaving the vault. But knew as in her body craved it.

He nodded his head and pressed two fingers back into her. Curling them and working them inside. She furrowed her brows and covered her mouth.

He readjusted his body. Now hovering over hers, his face close to hers.

"Move your hand. I want to hear you. I need to hear how much you fuckin like it Lucy." He said in a stern tone. Pressing his fingers deeply inside, setting a faster pace as he looked at her.

She removed her hand, letting out small breaths.

"That's it.." He hummed proud. "You're really fucking tight. I don't know if I'll fit." He said pulling his fingers out.

"Now I know this is probably your first time. Or maybe it's not. I don't know what you vault freaks did down there, but I ain't going easy on ya" He said, moving onto his knees.

Pushing his jacket off of her, so he could look at her pudgey breasts, sitting unevenly in her tank top.

He spread her legs open, and pulled them upwards. Pulling her body forward. Fitting his body between her legs, he lined his cock up with her soaked hole. Leaning in close to her face.

He pressed his face into her neck, and inched his cock inside. Each inch breaking her tight unused pussy. She held onto his back tightly. Using it as a means to ground herself.

"It hurts! Is it supposed to her this bad?" She exclaimed wincing.

"Mmm. It hurts because it's your first time honey. I've also got a huge cock. It ain't gonna fit perfectly." He said in his deep southern draw. Licking and biting at her neck.

Slowly thrusting into her. Deep inside of her every move. She squirmed, unable to handle so much at once.

He didn't care, he kept his pace. Picking up as he growled in her ear. Biting down into her neck, licking over the marks each time. Savoring every single moan that escaped from her lips.

"You like how big my fuckin cock is don't you. You're squeezing me real fuckin tight sweetheart." He said moving faster. Her legs wrapping around his back.

Hitting her so incredibly deep, it felt like he would pass out from the insane pleasure.

"Good fuckin god girl... you're really showin me how much you want it. I know you've fantasized about me. I'm sure you've touched your pretty pussy thinkin about me." He said licking the shell of her ear. Grunting as he felt himself getting closer.

"Ghoul-" She exclaimed.

"Cooper." He whispered. "My name is Cooper." He said pulling his cock all the way out and driving it back in.

"Scream my fuckin name. Tell me how fuckin good my cock feels." He said.His thrusts becoming more sloppy.

Lucy was feeling herself slipping, knowing she was so close to cumming. "C-Cooper! Your.." She paused. Unsure if she would want to use that weird word.

"Your penis feels so good!"

He giggled in her neck. Unable to take her seriously. Never hearing her curse, even while being relentlessly pounded.

Cooper bit her shoulder as he started to empty his load. Growling deeply as he claimed her body as his. The first to destroy her innocent body.

Lucy practically screaming as she felt her climax crashing. It was nothing like she had ever experienced. A undescribeable feeling in her stomach and her core. Gasping for air as she finished.

Slowing his thrusts he removed his mouth from her shoulder. Catching his breath, his cock buried inside of her.

Realizing he had given Lucy his name, he cursed at himself. She hadn't thought on it much, but things were starting to click.

Was she just fucked by Cooper Howard? The infamous cowboy movie star? Her eyes widening as she studied his outfit. Trying to see past the vest he wore. He scrambled to get his pants on, but she watched in awe. Laying on the bed almost fully naked.

"Cooper... Howard?" She said. A questioning tone. "Did I just have a sex sirh a movie star?" She said feeling proud of herself

"Shit." He thought. She had ranted for almost an hour earlier how much she loved the movies he starred in. A novelty cowboy charm.

"Yeah honey.. that's me." He sighed, though smiling when her eyes lit up.

[missuswalker]

hello <3 i enjoy your fics a lot, and i saw you were asking for requests, so!!! could you maybe write something abt jpm with an artistic fem!reader as a wife? with something like writing or painting

𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 || 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

❦ summary: your husband is your biggest fan

❦ warnings: mention of murder like once, but y’all, it’s james

❦ notes: I LOVE YOU AND THIS IDEA WHAT OFC OFC

the curtains were drawn in your lavishly decorated suite, silvery moonlight flooding through the crystal-like glass of the window. a warm glow from slowly-melting candles illuminated the canvas in front of you, giving off just enough light to work with. as you hummed to yourself, you began to paint the view from where you were sitting, featuring a few of the many vases full of james’ flowers. gorgeous, blood-red roses, lilies, and tulips. james offered you a luxurious lifestyle, spoiling you with gifts quite often.

the man worshipped the ground you walked on. everything you did was extraordinary. he swore you were a goddess, blessed with beauty and creativity. while he supported many of your hobbies, he did not yet knew you liked to paint. you hardly had time to paint, and when you did, it was always when james was ‘busy’ (masterminding a murder). it was your special thing for now, your secret. you weren’t purposefully keeping it from him, it just hadn’t come up.

you knew that when he did find out, though, he’d have a positive reaction.

as soon as he found out you liked to write, he was sharing your stories and poetry with the world. leaving copies of a poem in guests’ rooms or sending off your longer writings to liz for her to read when the bar wasn’t busy. he truly thought of you as an artist, often praising you for your way with words. you were worried that he might have a stroke when he discovers your paintings. most of them were of the hotel as well, which might send his soul off forever, the dead man never to be seen again.

you pushed these thoughts aside, emptying your mind as your brush glided across the textured canvas. it was like the hours flew by, and suddenly it was past midnight, the air frigid and the halls quiet. you take a moment to glance over your painting, knowing if you looked too long, you would begin to hate it. sighing, you drop your brush into a half-filled cup, headed to the bathroom to wash your hands.

upon your return, you are met with the sight of your husband’s bright smile, holding the canvas in his hands. “come, dear. did you do this?” he questions, setting the painting carefully back onto it’s easel. you shake your head, rolling your eyes, already knowing the praises to come. it wasn’t arrogance, it was predictability. stepping into his embrace, you nod. “yes. do you like it?”

like you had to ask.

“why, it’s beautiful. i’ve never seen something more elegant, i’m shocked. you are brilliant, you know that?” he answers, eyes never leaving the work of art. “i think i will keep this, once it’s dry that is. as long as it’s okay with you?” he adds before you could speak. with a shrug and a grin, you nod. “that’s fine.”

not even a week had passed, and you woke to james gone, but a brand new set of oil paints waiting for you on your dresser, paintbrushes wrapped in a satin ribbon next to them. smiling to yourself, you decide it would be nice to paint something for your husband in return of the nice gift. setting up a work station by the window, you thought of what you could paint for a man like james. of course, he’d appreciate anything from you, but you wanted it to be special. that’s when you knew.

you worked on this gift for over a week, having to hide it every time he came back to your room for the night. when it was finally perfect, you left it out on the mantle. it wasn’t much longer before he arrived, his light footsteps not being the one to give it away, but the creak of the door. you rushed to sit near the fireplace, waiting for him to notice.

“my god.”

he went straight for the painting, holding it in his hands to look over it. a portrait of the two of you. you heard nothing else from him before he was off, taking the canvas with him. you were quick to your feet, rushing out after james, following him down the hall and into the elevator. you furrow your brows, waiting in the silence of the elevator, but when the doors finally open, he’s off again.

when james finally comes to a stop, it was in front of the wood wall of the lobby. “james, what in the world are you doing?” you scoff. he waves his hand at you, bringing it back to pull a random frame from the wall, replacing it with your painting. looking to the side, you notice most of the things on the wall had been replaced by your art. framed poems and old paintings he must’ve found in the closet.

“james, don’t you think this is a bit much,” you ask, though you couldn’t help but smile at the display of your works. “nonsense. it’s not enough. i want to fill the walls with your beautiful art,” he says, finally turning to look at you. “this is incredible, you are the next monet, my love. people will come from all over the world to admire your paintings, to admire you. they’ll never be as amazed by you as i am, though.”

james could go on forever, if you let him. he was so incredibly proud of everything you’d ever done. how could he not be? you were so perfect.

i had no idea how to end this, BUT ITS PROOFREAD 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

i love him

[pasukiyo]

YOU'RE ALWAYS GONNA BE MINE

| CHAPTER THREE

a royalty au. remus lupin x princess!reader. multi-part series. series masterlist.

word count; 5,336 summary; she's wonderstruck. some may call her foolish for being so infatuated with a man she hardly knew, but he made her so curious. curious about him, the world, about what could be. and she makes remus just as curious. but when he finds out about her upcoming betrothal, he isn't quite sure how to feel...

so even in a different life, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless...

 The Princess sighed as she approached the door of her quarters— Marlene seemed to have been successful in convincing the guard to stay away. She was practically levitating— gliding through the open door of her bedroom and sighing as she softly shut the door closed behind her, falling back against it at last. 

 Marlene sprang up from the corner of the room and rushed over to the Princess, her eyes wide and terrified, her gaze scanning over here, searching for any signs of injury. When she reached the bottom of her dress, she shrieked, her hands rushing to cover her mouth. 

 “Great Merlin… is that… is that blood?” Marlene’s exclamation hardly passed as a whisper as she gazed wide-eyed at the Princess. “Gods, I knew I shouldn’t have let you go! What will the King and Queen say? Where are you bleeding? Where are you hurt? Why do you have that look in your—“

 “I’m fine, Marlene,” the Princess finally intervened, blinking up at her handmaiden, her teeth latched on her bottom lip in an attempt to contain her smile. Marlene cocked an eyebrow and leaned back from the Princess, an incredulous expression on her face. “Then what is this look on your face for?”

 The Princess’ heart drummed in her chest and she took a moment to breathe, inhaling through her nose, exhaling out her mouth. Her cheeks burned at the memory of the night’s tale and she released her lip, letting her mouth curve into a grin. “Marls, I’ve met someone.”

 Marlene blinked, her mouth opening and closing yet, nothing came out. “You’ve… met someone?” She reiterated and the Princess breathed a small laugh, nodding and slipping past the handmaiden, working on stripping herself from her dress. “You’ve… met someone… where, exactly?” Marlene followed the Princess to the changing screen, watching as she tossed the dirty blue dress over the top, the corset next to join. 

 Marlene blinked and took a couple steps backwards when the Princess emerged from behind the screen, a nightgown draped loosely on her body, fingers brushing through her hair. She grinned, “the forest, of course.”

 Marlene had never seen the Princess this way before. This was quite the stark difference from her behavior earlier— she wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. “And you’ve met… who exactly?” Marlene questioned, staring down the Princess as she sank down onto her mattress, swinging her legs over the side and blinking up at the ceiling, a curious gleam in her eye. 

 “A boy,” the Princess sighed, muscles relaxing and deflating into the pillows below. Marlene blinked once, twice, thrice, as if if she blinked enough, she’d wake up, and all of this would’ve just been a dream. She eyed the Princess as she stared up into the textures on the ceiling, her lips curved into an upwards crescent. 

 “A… boy…?” Marlene said slowly, as if testing the idea. The Princess glanced over to where the handmaiden stood beside the bed, uncertain as she fiddled with her fingers. She rolled over to her side and propped her head up with an elbow pressed into the plush of the mattress, “yes. He was… he was…” she paused, wondering where on earth she should even begin. “…different. Unlike anyone I’ve ever met. It was quite peculiar how we met actually.”

 “How do you mean?” Marlene asked, sinking down into the mattress beside the Princess, hands folded in her lap as she eyed her. The Princess rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, reminiscing what had happened only an hour before. Their encounter was, in fact, quite strange and perhaps would sound even more peculiar when spoken aloud. How could she tell Marlene she was wonderstruck by a sick man out in the middle of the woods whom she found vomiting and bleeding from self-inflicted wounds?

 “He was… running ill,” the Princess, while appreciative Marlene bit her tongue, already could tell by the way the handmaiden rocked once back and forth that she had a remark at the ready. “It must’ve been a miracle I found him. He was bleeding— hence…” she nodded towards the bloodied dress across the room. “But even while ill, he was so… enchanting. No man has ever made me feel this way… and I must sound mental, considering I was with him for not even an hour.”

 The Princess sighed again, her thoughts echoing his name, the weight of it on the tip of her tongue. “And his name is Remus.”

 Marlene only blinked, turning her head to face the window as the moonlight spilled inside the bedroom, the stars winking when she met their gaze. She was skeptical, of course she was, but the Princess looked so… different. A good different, she hoped, at least. The Princess was so upset earlier, so somber and never again did Marlene want to see her in such a way. She seemed like someone entirely new now, the happiest she supposed she had seen her in a long while. 

 She didn’t have the heart to ruin that right now. 

 Just before she could turn back around to wish the Princess good night, a small shadow eclipsed the moon in the window and Marlene narrowed her eyes, squinting and leaning closer for a better look. It was an owl, mottled brown and white with big, dark eyes blinking at her curiously as she nudged at the glass with her beak, a rolled parchment tied to her claw. 

 “Princess,” Marlene nudged the Princess’ knee. “It’s Athena.”

 Marlene turned in just enough time to see the Princess’ head snap towards the window, springing up from the bed and scampering over to the window, setting herself down on the window seat to push it up. “Thena!” She exclaimed, using the knuckle of her forefinger to caress the owl’s cheek affectionately. She carefully undid the emerald green ribbon that tied the parchment to the owl’s claw, raking her fingernails through the feathers atop Athena’s head, earning a tender hoot in response. 

 “I think I’ll be heading off to bed, highness,” Marlene bowed her head as the Princess glanced up at her from the letter in her hands, lips curved in a smile as she nodded. “Okay,” she replied. “Sweet dreams, Marls.”

 Marlene nodded as she made her way to the door, hand in the knob as she whispered, “goodnight, Princess,” before heading off to her own quarters, her mind a jumbled and conflicted mess. 

 The Princess let the parchment unravel in her fingers, her dear friend’s handwriting staring up at her, breathing a laugh through her nostrils as she read the introduction. 

 ‘Dear Princess (and hopefully not Peter),

 Marriage?! To whom??

 I apologize, my dear friend, for my surprise. Yet, even my mother and father have yet to force me into betrothal, and I am older than you. Marriage is absolutely preposterous! You’re so young! You’re only, what, twenty? Of course, I’ve heard of princesses getting married much younger, but it still seems so inhumane. You’ve only been a woman for two years!

 It’s an outrage, if you ask me. Why are we expected to marry men we’ve never met? Men we don’t know anything about? Men we don’t love? Why must we, as women, be given like a gift to men? We aren’t objects, we’re our own people too!

 I feel for you, dear friend. Tell me, who is your betrothed? Perhaps you’ve gotten lucky, maybe you’ll get one of the good ones. There aren’t many of them, but there are still some. But I know you. And I know you’re strong and smart. I already feel like you’re scheming ways to stop this from happening. I just hope you are careful, I know your father too. He’s tougher than any man I’ve ever met. 

 I do hope you’re okay. I’m sorry this is happening to you. I wish there was something I could do. 

 Sending you all my love,

                                                Lily’

 Athena cooed from beside her, nudging her head into the Princess’ palm as she let the parchment drop to her lap, her smile, while softer now, still on her lips. After a moment, she pushed herself off of the window seat and Athena blinked, watching as she made her way across the room towards the desk in the corner, tugging open a drawer and pulling out a fresh roll of parchment. She set herself down in the chair and dipped a quill in ink, writing out her introduction as Athena fluttered across the room to where she sat, perched beside the ink. 

 She laughed at the little owl, “almost forgot Athena. Why don’t you go rest in the Owlery tonight? You deserve it, what with all the flying around you’ve been doing lately. I’ll bring this letter to you in the morning.” She reached out and gave the owl an affectionate pat atop the head along with a caress with her knuckle, Athena softly nipped her finger in response before she was off, soaring through the window and back into the night. 

 She turned back to the parchment rolled out before her, leaning down so that she could begin to write. 

 ‘Dear Lily,

 I am so glad you feel the same. It is so unfair that the men get to have their pick of the litter and we are forced to comply with whatever they choose. It is insanity!

 I am to be betrothed to Prince James, according to my father. He invited Sirius to the castle for brunch earlier today just to ask him what he thinks about Prince James. Never once did he think to ask me what I thought! And he called me selfish for saying this to him. It appears it doesn’t matter what I say or what I want. I was foolish to think otherwise. 

 Have you met Prince James? I’ve only heard of him in passing, but I’ve never seen him or heard much else other than he likes lamb. It seems you’ve met many more royal families than I have. I’d appreciate any information and advice you could give me. I am most desperate. 

 Before I sign off this letter, I must tell you: I’ve met a boy. Not a prince, not a king, not even a Lord. He lives in the village— and oh Lily, I don’t know what to do with myself. We hadn’t talked for even an hour and all I want to do right now is chase after him and learn everything there is to know about him. Am I crazy? I feel like I am mental. But there was just something about him. He was different— a good different, at that. For once, I needn’t act formal or like a princess. It was… calming. 

 I wish to see him again soon. I think I will sneak off again tomorrow night to find him. Marlene seems apprehensive but I assure you, my dear friend, I am taking care of myself. He doesn’t seem bad. Although, he does seem to hold some prejudice against royalty. I’m not sure if I can entirely blame him. 

 Anyways, I will sign off now before this letter becomes too long. Please let me know if you have any information on Prince James. He is to arrive in a couple of days and stay for a few weeks. I am so nervous I could quite literally die. 

 With all my love,

                                 The Princess (just me, no Peter this time)’

 The King glimpsed up from his breakfast as his daughter sauntered into the dining hall, their gazes aligning for a beat before she dropped her head again, slipping into her chair across from her mother. The Princess’ handmaiden unfolded a handkerchief in her lap, clasping her hands and keeping her head bowed so as to not make eye contact with neither the King or the Queen as she stepped back. 

 “You are late,” her mother said as she picked at the food on her plate and she glanced up to the Queen, nodding. “Sorry,” the Princess mumbled back in reply. “Stopped by the Owlery to send Lily an owl.”

 Another silence fell upon the table and the tension in the air was quite palpable, so thick it was suffocating. The Princess made no moves to break it, nor did the King or the Queen. It came to no surprise to the Princess at least that Peter was the one to break the silence. 

 “So, your majesty, the Prince should be arriving soon, yes?” Peter asked from where he sat beside the Queen and the Princess glanced up at him, his lips curled into a smug grin. She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before peering back down to her plate— Peter could sometimes excel at seeping right beneath her skin. 

 “Mmm, yes,” the King replied behind a mouthful. “I’ve received an owl that his ship will be arriving sooner than expected. He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.” Her fingers loosened their grip on her fork and it was a miracle she didn’t drop it altogether. After dreaming of her chance encounter with Remus last night and thinking about him since the moment she opened her eyes, it seemed to have slipped her mind that Prince James was on his way— that they were to be married. 

 The thought made her put her fork down and wipe her hands on the handkerchief in her lap. 

 “How exciting,” Peter remarked, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips when he glanced over to where the Princess sat. “I’ll be sure his room is ready by tonight then.”

 Her parents and Peter continued to discuss arrangements for Prince James’ arrival, but frankly, she couldn’t have cared any less. Her gaze drifted towards the grand windows behind Peter and her mother where just over the top of the courtyard walls, she could see the village in the distance. She let her mind wander back to Remus, wondering if she could see his house from here, wondering if she could see him again. 

 She had already made up her mind, even if Marlene wouldn’t like it. She was going to sneak away again tonight. Remus said himself he was wondering if he’d see her again— she could only hope he was just as desperate to see her again as she was.

 Remus pressed the sleeve of his shirt to his lips to stifle the cough threatening to rip through his chest as he tip-toed past his sleeping father towards the door. He eyed his father where he slept in his chair, contemplating whether or not to move him to his bed instead. He ultimately decided against it— it was best not to wake him, his father hated how he spent hardly any time at home anyways. Frankly, Remus wasn’t in the mood for another one of his father’s lectures, nor the look he’d give him when he inevitably barked back. The mere thought of his father’s frightened look yesterday made his skin crawl, made him feel like a monster. 

 He did, however, take the blanket from his father’s bed to drape it on his sleeping figure, cautiously, careful not to stir him awake. Remus blinked down at his father, standing and staring for a few beats before adjusting the sleeves of his shirt on his arms and finally turning around to make his way towards the door. 

 The door moaned as Remus slowly pulled it open, wincing as he stepped through and turned to close it as carefully as he could. It was even more lopsided than it was the day before, visibly on its last hinges. He made a mental note that he really needed to stop prolonging the fix of the door, one movement too rough, and it’d go crashing to the ground. Winter was approaching and his father was much too fragile to risk getting ill. 

 For now, Remus made his way up the backroads of the village, the route he knew not many crossed, towards the wealthier side of the town. He was desperate to see Sirius— the encounter with the Princess the night before burned in his memory. When he finally made it home last night, he couldn’t even sleep. His thoughts were all of her— and oh, how he hated it. 

 It was frustrating to Remus how obsessed he was over a woman he just met, whom he hardly knew anything of at all. It made him even more sick to think that he wanted to see her again, and that he hoped she’d be back in the forest tonight. It was most unlike him, to be so entranced by someone. In fact, he had never been like this for anyone before— for as long as he could remember, it was just easier for him to push people away rather than embrace them. The only one who managed to stick was Sirius. 

 He never had problems pushing people away in the past, so why couldn’t he stop thinking about her now?

 He thought perhaps this was just yet another side effect of his lycanthropy, that he’d finally gone off the handle. He was mental, and he was slowly going down a spiral of insanity. That had to be it, right?

 Remus wasn’t certain, but he tried to shake his thoughts of her for now as he crept his way behind Sirius Black’s manor, scaling the wall until he finally reached the back door. He scanned the surrounding area to ensure no one else was around before shielding the tops of his eyes with his hands, narrowing his eyes to get a better look through the window. He couldn’t see anyone— he could only hope Sirius didn’t have any company over at the moment. 

 So, as carefully as he could, he grasped the knob of the door and twisted it slowly, grateful this door wasn’t as run down as his own home’s. On the tips of his toes, he slipped inside the house, shutting the door as silently as he could behind him. 

 “Mr. Malfoy, I assure you that I do not have a conspiracy against the King,” 

 “I would certainly hope not, Black. It’d do you well to remember you are not the only one close to the royal family and I assure you that I will inform the King of any sort of… treachery.”

 Remus pressed himself against the wall and peeked his head from the doorway just as Lord Lucius Malfoy and Sirius approached the front door, a wrinkle in either of their brows. Sirius looked rather bored to say the least, even annoyed whilst Lucius sneered, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he had Sirius cornered. Sirius couldn’t have looked more bothered, if you asked Remus. 

 “Oh, why of course, Lucius, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” Sirius replied. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I have matters to attend to. I do hope you have a good rest of your day, and do give Narcissa my regards.”

 Remus ducked away from the doorway as Lucius Malloy made one last remark before being ushered out the door by Sirius, only choosing to come out of his hiding when he could hear his friend’s frustrated groan 

 “Conspiring against the King, are we, Sirius?” Remus remarked as he stepped out of his hiding spot, his friend’s eyelids snapping open as he watched his friend approach from the hall. “They’ll have your head for that, you know.”

 Sirius only rolled his eyes as the corners of Remus’ lips twitched in amusement, his friend pushing himself away from the front door. “Trust me, even that’s a better fate than having to constantly be subject to Malfoy’s accusations. Honestly, I see him more than I do my own cousin,” Sirius huffed, making his way over to the dining table where it appeared he and Lucius were having lunch. Kreacher, Sirius’ house elf, sauntered his way into the room, big, tired eyes narrowed when they caught Remus in the corner of them. Remus shifted where he stood as Kreacher murmured something about his shoes feet tracking dirt in the house while Sirius plopped himself down in his seat at the head of the table, waving off the elf. 

 “Leave us be, Kreacher,” he said, gesturing with his fingers for Remus to come sit. “And what have I told you about being rude to my friend?”

 Reluctantly, Remus made his way over to settle himself down in the seat beside Sirius, wiping off the palms of his hands on his trousers as he eyed the food in front of him. Sirius raised a brow at him, “dig in. I know you’re hungry,” he said and despite a protest that he couldn’t possibly take any of his food, his stomach betrayed him, a sound close to thunder ripping through it. A corner of Sirius’ lips twitched, his mood more lifted than it was earlier, “your first instinct is always to protest when I offer you things but I assure you, my friend, I do not mind.”

 Remus muttered a soft “thanks” as he grabbed a sandwich from the middle of the table, practically drooling when he took his first bite. Sirius let him eat for a moment before curiosity finally got the best of him, leaning back in his seat and crossing his right leg over his left, propping his elbow on the arm of his chair, holding his chin. 

 “So, what brings you over here so early today?” He asked and Remus, despite having a mouthful of sandwich, stopped his chewing altogether. Right. What he was here for. He finished chewing the food in his mouth as he set the sandwich back down on his plate, using a handkerchief at his side to wipe his hands. 

 Sirius only eyed him curiously, lips pressed together as Remus sifted through his brain, searching for the right words to say. He supposed there wasn’t exactly an easy way to bring up to his wealthy friend that he had met the Princess in the forest close to midnight and may or may not be curious about her. He knew he could tell Sirius about practically everything— but for a moment, Remus wondered if he would even believe him if he told him. 

 Remus swallowed the bite he had been working on and cleared his throat, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. 

 “You know the Royal Princess, yes?” Remus chose to ask first, fully prepared for the look Sirius gave him. The wrinkle in his friend’s brow deepened, the question being entirely out of character for his friend, they both knew it. “Well, yes,” Sirius replied simply, still rather curious as to why this was the first thing he decided to bring up. “For a few years now. Why are you asking me this, exactly?” Sirius pressed, eager to learn more. 

 Remus’ teeth sank down into the plush of his bottom lip and rolled it around, unsure where to even begin. How could he ask for information on the Princess to his friend without sounding like a creep?

 “I…” Remus began, squeezing his lids together shut and sighing. Perhaps it was better to just say it. “…I met her last night. In the woods. During one of my attacks.”

 Sirius blinked. He blinked again when Remus finally lifted his head to make eye contact. He could already see it now— Sirius found this very hard to believe. He knew the Princess wasn't allowed to leave the castle, nor has she ever snuck out like this before. But he also knew his friend wasn’t a liar and he also knew how upset the Princess was just the day prior when he’d been invited over for brunch. 

 Suddenly, the idea that she’d left the castle didn’t seem entirely preposterous. But it also didn’t make him any less concerned for her. 

 “The woods?” Sirius asked. “Is she… is she alright? Did she make it home? Was she hurt? And are you okay?”

 Remus shook his head, only just now realizing just how close Sirius was to the Princes. He’d almost entirely forgotten that his friend had seen her only hours before their chance encounter in the forest and he remembered her saying that she was trying to get away from something— perhaps Sirius knew just what that was. 

 “She’s fine, at least, I think she is. She told me she was heading back before an army was sent after her when we departed last night, so I can only assume she made it back home. And I’m… better. She took care of me,” Remus reassured his friend, watching as the muscles in Sirius’s body relaxed and he fell back into his chair. The furrow in Sirius’ brow didn’t go away, however, and he shook his head. “Did she tell you why was she out in the woods? As far as I know, she’s never left the castle grounds. I don’t understand…”

 Remus shrugged, “she told me she needed to get away, whatever that could possibly mean.” Remus almost wanted to roll his eyes again at the idea that a Princess could possibly be needing to run away from something. As far as he was concerned, she already had it made. But judging from the look on Sirius’ face, perhaps he was wrong. 

 A shadow had casted over Sirius’ face and he sighed, using his thumb and forefinger to rub at his brow. A dull ache had begun to form there, mostly due to the stress of worrying about his two closest friends. The fact that the Princess had snuck out into the woods in the dark, alone yesterday after what happened between her and her parents did not ease the ache there. 

 “What?” Remus asked, bowing his head to try and catch his friend’s eye. “What is it?” Sirius blinked over at his friend and straightened his posture, exhaling as he mulled over the situation. “She was upset at brunch yesterday,” he explained. “Her parents are forcing her into marriage.”

 Remus blinked. Suddenly, he felt like throwing the sandwich he had just inhaled back up onto his plate. 

 Marriage? She was going to be married?

 As if the idea that he couldn’t stop thinking about her or that she was a princess wasn’t enough, she was set to be married. This was enough to make Remus feel stupid, nauseous, even. How foolish he was to think that perhaps the Princess felt something towards him like he did to her. The fact he felt anything towards her other than animosity was almost revolting. 

 Remus must’ve had a look because Sirius narrowed his eyes at his friend, sifting through the soils of his irises for something unknown to Remus. “You’ve a look,” Sirius said, confirming Remus’ suspicion. Remus opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He didn’t know how to feel, didn’t know how to react. 

 Especially since a large portion of him still wanted to see her tonight. 

 “I…” Remus began before deciding against it, shaking his head. Sirius could be awfully perceptive when he wanted to, but Remus hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t be able to read his thoughts now. How embarrassing for him it is to know he’s mulling over an engaged woman. 

 “Don’t,” Sirius raised an accusatory finger at him and Remus frowned, unsure what his friend meant. “What?” He said as Sirius pushed himself out of his seat, shaking his head. “You’re going to tell me you’re curious about her,” Sirius elaborated. “That you like her.”

 Remus shook his head, although he wasn’t sure why he was denying it. He was curious about her, try as hard as he might to deny it, he couldn’t ignore the way her name and her face was etched into his memory, intoxicated by the way she touched him so tenderly and cared for him. No matter how frustrating it was, he couldn’t deny he thought there was something there. But did that mean he liked her, at least in the way Sirius was implying?

 Sirius shook his head at Remus, “you’re lying. To me and yourself. You’ve a look in your eye and I’ve never seen it before in you.”

 “Sirius—“

 “Remus,” Sirius stepped forward until he was at the table once again, leaning over until he was eye-level with his friend. “I know you. I know you better than anyone else. So you cannot lie to me.”

 Remus shook his head, pushing away from the table and placing a hand on his lip, massaging his jaw with the other. “It doesn’t matter,” he began, throwing his arms in the air. “It doesn’t matter what you know or think you know about me. And it doesn’t matter what I may or may not have felt about her, she’s married.”

 Sirius raised a brow, “not married yet, actually,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Honestly, weren’t you listening to me? She’s being forced into marriage, she’s never even met this man!” 

 Remus shook his head, “forget it. Not like I would ever stand a chance against a Prince anyways.”

 Remus’ cheeks were red with embarrassment, the fact he’d thought things would ever escalate with the Princess making him feel foolish. Why was he even considering this anyways? He was mental! Mental for thinking about her in such a way when he hardly knew anything about her. It was infuriating! 

 “Now, hold on a moment,” Sirius chuckled, grasping onto Remus’ shoulder to prevent him from leaving. “You don’t know that. Besides, she’s not the type to choose one over class.”

 Remus only averted his gaze, somewhat wishing he never came in the first place. He wished he never asked Sirius about her and wished he’d never told him about her betrothal. Yet, somehow, he couldn’t make himself wish he had never met her. 

 Somehow, he couldn’t make himself not want to see her again. 

 Remus sunk his teeth down so hard into his bottom lip, he was sure he could taste blood. 

 “This is… complicated, to say the least,” Sirius murmured, a finger hooked around his chin in thought. Remus lifted his gaze to peer over at his friend, his pride a lump in his throat that he swallowed back down. “She told me she planned on seeing me again,” he admitted, wincing at how pathetic, how foolish he sounded. “And I… I wish to see her again as well.”

 Sirius’ mouth twitched and for his friend’s sake, he tried his hardest not to smile. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of this— just as he said, this situation was complicated— not only was she a Princess and he a commoner, but she was to be married. And Sirius knew her father, knew his personality all too well. This was a dangerous game to be playing and he knew he shouldn’t be encouraging this, knew he shouldn’t almost feel giddy about it. 

 But he’d never seen Remus this way before, never seen him so hopeful. He’d spent many nights caring for his friend, cleaning the sick from his mouth and from buckets, making sure he was getting all the proper care he needed. Although Remus would never admit it, Sirius could see it in his eyes that he was tired, that he wanted to give up. 

 And he knew the Princess. He knew how much she yearned for love, real, genuine, true love. He knew she craved freedom, the right to be with whoever she wanted, the right to go wherever she pleased. 

 When he looked at Remus now, Sirius couldn’t help but feel like this was just so right. He knew Prince James, even liked the bloke and would dare call him a friend. But he knew not even he could give the Princess exactly what she wanted— but Remus?

 Remus could give her a taste of the world she so desperately craved. 

 And perhaps she could teach Remus just how beautiful life could be, that he deserved to live again.

 How could he discourage something as beautiful as that?

a/n; i am so so so terribly sorry for the delay for this chapter! between work and college, i haven't really had the time to write or indulge in any of my hobbies, so my sincerest apologies :( i am still so excited to write this series and i hope you are all equally as excited! sorry if this chapter is rushed/kind of boring, but perhaps remus and the princess will see each other again soon ;) and prince james is arriving soon! also! remember to fill out the taglist form in my pinned post or reply to this post if you'd like to be added to the taglist! i am also planning on writing and posting some more remus and perhaps other marauders fics either this week or after finals week so filling out my taglist form would be most helpful :)

TAGLIST

@cancelledkaley

@burns-in-the-sun

@strangerfromketterdam

@iamthejam

@ashisabitgay

@thesoundresoundsecho

@remussbitch

@dwindlinghaze

[dreamersparacosm]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

featuring austin butler

thigh riding (n): when one person opens their legs, and other person sits on their thigh, and proceeds to dry hump said thigh until climax or as a form of foreplay.

nsfw!

note ; lmao this isn’t kinktober anymore it’s kinkyear <3 decided to post this while y’all wait for lawki pt 1, had to rewrite this three times bc I hated it at first but yolo here we go, enjoy

warnings ; thigh riding, choking

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You might have outdone yourself this time.

Sure, in retrospect, it was hardly an innocent gesture. What you did was enter the living room, white mini-skirt in tow, eyes beckoning for his attention despite the clear exhaustion that lingered behind his eyes. You curled up next to him, trying to feel the warmth radiating from his body as best as possible, his arm curling around you and squeezing your shoulder.

You were restless in his arms, and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. He figured it could have to do with the fact that his girl needed attention because he’d been away for too long, and only he knew how to take care of her. You would say he was pretty spot on with that idea.

After you relentlessly moved around on the couch, your bare clitoris rubbing against the texture of the couch cushion, he had patted his thigh, motioning for you to perch yourself on him, without any notion or idea that you had a larger plan in the works. But, in record time, you found yourself soaking his sweatpants and your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents on his skin underneath the fabric. A strand of his blonde hair hung loosely over his forehead, ignoring any eye contact from you that would send him over the edge whilst gripping the television remote tightly.

He couldn’t really continue his act when you started shifting in his lap like a kitten in heat. He knew there were no panties. He could feel the wetness bleed through his sweatpants, a sharp inhale of breath as he felt his cock constrain in his boxers. With a discreet cough and his hands on your hips, he adjusted your body to where your clitoris was right on the middle of his thigh, and there was little backlash to that.

And that’s really how you ended up in this position.

Now, it’s easy to see he’s just as riled up as you are. His whole body goes up in flames as he presses his lips against your neck in a heated attempt to quell his own desires. “No panties. You’re fucking sick, baby,” His voice is dark, raspier than normal.

He chuckles sadistically, lifting up your white skirt to reveal your bare ass, running his smooth palm over it. He resists the urge to slap it, ignores whatever animalistic side of him is telling him to deny you of anything. But you don’t deserve that, you’ve been waiting for him so patiently at home while he’s been filming. “You know, you could’ve just told me you wanted me,” He teases.

You whimper pathetically, your hands gripping onto his knee for stability. Your legs shake from the longing of his cock to fill you up, every inch, make you full of him until you feel like you can’t breathe. “Austin,” You say hushed under your breath, like it’s a secret between just you two.

“C’mon, darlin’”, There’s a bit of that southern twang mixed in, makes you lose your train of thought completely and consumed by him. “Do whatever you need to do to me.”

And you can’t move, not even an inch, overwhelmed by desire as your core aches for any form of stimulation. You would opt for him inside you, but there’s a mutual understanding that he won’t let you do that just yet. Your eyes hone in on the television ahead, on the film he’s watching, something that doesn’t make you think about him.

He leans back against the couch cushions, runs a hand up and down your spine. A wave of shivers releases themselves, and you bite your lip in a last-ditch effort to control yourself. “Don’t get all shy on me now, princess.”

Your body moves before your brain does, rocking itself gently against the fabric of his sweatpants and creating enough friction to please you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting — maybe you on your knees, with his heavy cock in your mouth, spit dribbling down the corners of your lips — but he was perfectly fine with this arrangement, with the way you could use him as your personal toy.

The repeated action is slow at first, timid, as you build up courage and speed, a want for your orgasm so deeply rooted in you that you’re already seeing white in your vision. “Jesus Christ, baby,” His calloused hands find your hips, guide your movements to a rhythmic beat.

You’re panting, moaning, as he rocks your body against his thigh, makes you feel all warm and fuzzy and whole inside. He’s not oblivious to the way he’s feeling about this, his erection outlining the grey sweatpants he wore so often. “Always so desperate for me, huh, baby? Couldn’t stand me being gone for so long?”

You let out a choked sob, something that sounds so ridiculous you would normally be embarrassed. All you can think of is cumming, on him, on his stupid sweatpants, leaving a wet stain that he won’t be able to get out. “N-No. I needed you s-so bad, Aus.”

His hands coming around to grasp around the circumference of your neck, pulling your body back into him, his mouth connecting to yours. You can feel his cock burrowing in between your ass as his hips buck into yours, a pleasant accident that elicits a groan from him. Your skin burns with a dizzying yearning to feel more of his heat and longing for you. It’s all far, far too much.

Your core aches, burns and gnaws as you chase your release, something fiery and desperate. His grip tightens around your neck, a token of his affection for you, the reminder that you belong to him. By now, your own thighs are slicked with your juices, almost certain that you’ve soaked the rug beneath you.

“F-fuck, I won’t be able to hold it in, Aus,” Your voice is strained, motions distressed and deprived. He fingers dig into your throat, almost cuts off your oxygen, has you digging your fingernails into his thighs so roughly you’re sure you’ll draw blood.

“That’s it, baby. Keep fucking yourself on my thigh,” His voice taunts you, a haunting melody. You gasp uncontrollably, a pitiful sound exiting your lips. You’re so close, your breathing ragged and thoughts jumbled, nothing but the feeling of your clitoris against the rough fabric devouring you.

He knows you can’t hold it any longer, sees it all over your face before he has to say anything. You moan out his name, over and over like it’s the only thing you know, your legs shaking around his as you release all over his pants, drenching them. He works you through it, releases his grip on your trachea, coos to you as your hips slow down.

Your body falls limp against him, eyes closed as you try and recover. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Got you right here,” He tugs you off his lap, pulls your body in closer to him, cradles you in comfort. “Feeling better?”

“Feeling like I’m never wearing panties again,” You mutter to yourself mostly, but he laughs as he hears the words.

“That works too,” He kisses your forehead, turning the volume back up on the television. For the moment, he’s not worried about getting off. He knows you’ll be back. You always are.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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