#where i just focus on how the sentences flow

[ceilidho]

Do you have any advice for a novice writer who can’t for the life of them figure out how to begin a story and/or scene? I’ve been slowly working on a novel in my free time for the last couple of years, and I feel like I have a decently solid plot and outline, but every time I go to start the actual process of putting words on paper I always get stuck. I’ve gone back and read the first few pages/chapters of other fantasy books to see how published authors do it, but I can never seem to find the right words or starting point that feels authentic and fitting to my own work. It always feels so clunky and out of place, and although I try to follow the ‘rule’ of starting the story in the middle of the action/a moment of change so that it doesn’t feel boring, nothing I come up with seems to help things flow into the beginning of the plot :/

ugh that's hard because actually forcing yourself to write is truly the hardest part. a lot of it is just nerves. like genuinely you're just experiencing stage fright.

that's why i love using tumblr as a micro-writing platform. when i make stupid little posts here, it feels low effort and i don't attach any anxiety to it, and actually that helps a lot when later on i take bits and pieces of stuff i've written here and add it to larger works (if you were following me when I was actively writing "landscape with honey" or "superstore" you'll remember i took a lot of asks that i'd already answered and just shoved them into the fic).

i highly recommend making a word cloud or vocabulary list for yourself if you're trying to cultivate a specific atmosphere as well. i have one on my phone for random words that i want to use.

then i think it might be helpful for you to try and break it down piece by piece. like if you have a scene where a character is packing a suitcase in order to catch a train, just focus on the first part where they're packing their belongings. there isn't a 'right' way to start a story or write something, so don't beat yourself up because the paragraph/sentence doesn't match perfectly what's in your head. the first draft is always going to be rough as well.

try to think of it like when an artist starts a piece. usually they start with simple shapes that they slowly add on to. you can think of your first draft kind of like this:

(image source)

[dallonwrites]

i love flash edits especially when it's literally just typing the flash out on a new document over and over again to feel the rhythm of all it together and each time you change or add single words at a time because each time you type it out there's one new sentence that now feels off and it feels like an infected wound spreading all over the piece 😍

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, captivity, fantasy lore, abuse, murder mention, suggestive (?)

"You seem to be upset."

He's leaning against the window not too far away from you. Not too close as well - just far enough for you to feel at ease.

"Aren't you a mind - reader." You respond under your breath, trying to focus on the book you're currently reading - but the letters are escaping you, and you find yourself re-reading the same paragraph for the third time. He sighs, much like a disappointed father, before stepping towards you. And if you flinch just slightly, he doesn't pretend to notice or care.

"What is wrong, my flower?" The man gestures theatrically, soft velvet voice unbecoming of the monster he is flowing easily into the open air. You don't know what to say, really. It's been two years - or so you think, there is no way to keep track of time in this kingdom, not that time goes the same way in the elfen world as it does in the human, yet the part of you still capable of logical thought seems to think so. Two years, and there is very little you haven't already said. Very little left to be said, so your conversations are mostly rehearsed repetitions of what you already know. What you already fear - that you're going to die here. Or even worse. That you've become incapable of aging, so very consumed by this foreign land you detest that you've given up death for a life of boring, purposeless immortality.

"Don't I shower you with lavish gifts?" The noble moves closer, stalking towards you - observing you as if you're a butterfly pinned to a wooden frame under a microscope. "Don't I buy you the shiniest jewels? Not even the queen herself owns such sparkling emeralds." He scoffs, painfully used to your lack of response. You clear your throat, turning a new page - having little to recall about the last. It's completely meaningless just like all the other pages in all the other books you read. How funny, you think. In that distant, dreamy past of yours you were too busy to read - busy with work, busy with family, busy with friends. Busy with life. Now nothing gets in the way of your reading, you have all the time in the world - but there's no one to share the knowledge with. No one to spoil the ending. No time limits. No goal to it all, no final destination. So you read, and you soak the pages with salty tears not remembering a word.

"I am grateful for all the treasures you give me, my Lord." You answer nonchalantly, keeping your pointer at the end of the paper in a desperate attempt to find the sentence exactly where you left it off. You can feel him move closer to you - and the only indication of your growing fear are the shivers that travel down your spine with the beat of your violently full, thumping heart.

"Don't I provide you with all the entertainment your little human heart could possibly bear?" The duke clicks his long sharp nails together once against the other - an ugly metallic sound echoes deep into the ceiling reminiscent of a dying forest clow. "There has never been a lack of wine or music or dance in my court. I've gifted you more golden dresses than you can wear in this life. I've written you more poems than you can read." He keeps going, describing every little thing he's done for you, despite the fact that you've never asked for any of it.

"I admire your taste for indulgence, my Lord." You repeat almost automatically, the praises sitting on your tongue just waiting to be spilt from parted honey lips. Your eyes are glued to the book, but you've given up on reading long ago. Now you're simply trying not to cry - focusing your eyes at one word at a time and blinking repeatedly, manically, feeling as if the world with end the moment you let him see your weakness. You can't believe you still have so much pain in you - enough to feel loss and anger and, what's even worse, hope. Hope that one day you'll be free again.

"And tell me, flower—" His fist wraps around your low ponytail, forcing you to look up at him and meet his eyes for the first time tonight. What's staring back at you might as well be the bottom of the ocean itself, misty and dark, cold and unknown. Human eyes convey so much affection - so much care that you can never mistake it for anything else. With elves it's different - you can spend centuries looking for a hint of kindness, and you'll only get lost in those beatiful bottomless pits. Shiny and sparkling and completely empty. "Don't I give you love? Don't I embrace you tightly every night?" His voice lowers dangerously, barely above a whisper.

"I don't understand what more you could possibly want. Should I prove myself to you? Should I slay a dragon for you? Perhaps I could tie the heads of your enemies with a pretty bow and give them to you as a wedding gift, hmm?" He's babbling incoherently, nails digging into your scalp with unyealding grip. "Would that finally, finally make you happy, beloved?"

"No, no, please let go." You cry out in agony, wriggling out of his hold - but he's too strong, too massive to move. "I'm happy, I'm—" You sob pitifully, weakly pushing at his chest. "I'm happy with you. Please, you make me so happy, just please let go. And please don't hurt anyone."

He slowly pulls away, chest heaving in and out wildly. The scariest part is always his face. It remains unbothered - cold and defined like a statue of a god, his true feelings hidden by a mask of barely contained rage.

"You're happy with me?" He raises an eyebrow, foot stomping on the ground impatiently. You nod hesitantly, too shaken up to comprehend what you're even agreeing to. "Then prove it. Show me just how happy I make you." He grabs your wrist, pulling you face-first into his hard chest. "Do it, and I might reconsider my other more... inhumane methods of courtship." His lips twist into a cruel smirk. "And may the Gods help you."

As you sink to your knees you try to think of what book to read next - but no title comes to mind.

[foxfirexo]

hi its my first time writing a lil story like this, I hope it's not too long and you like it!! ^^

*THIS STORY IS ABOUT TRANSFEMS*

you're at a party and you don't know why you thought this was a good idea. it's not some insanely big party, just a group of friends but you only know a few of them and aaaaaaa it's still enough to be loud and overwhelming. you cling to the wall, not knowing how to join into the circle of conversation happening in the middle of the room without disrupting its flow.

this is stupid. why are you even here? you're terrible in this kind of situation. might as well just use the bathroom and then leave, not like anyone will notice-

wait, did that girl just look at you? no, not just that, did she just stop mid sentence and- and did you imagine it, or did her jaw clench and her lips curl into the subtlest of smiles when she saw you?

no no no no you say to yourself as your cheeks flush bright red. you abandon your drink on a side table and flee the scene, now needing to find the bathroom for multiple reasons...

you search the halls desperately trying to find the bathroom, wanting so badly to hide. damnit why do you have to be too shy to just ask somebody where the damn thing is? it's not helping that every time you close your eyes even just for a moment you see that devious little grin and that gorgeous face- wait

you blink a few times. this time your eyes aren't closed but the gorgeous face is staring mischievously at you anyway? you blink a few times, surely you've finally gone insane and this is a hallucination

"going somewhere, darling?" she says, her voice low and dripping with... desire?

you barely manager to stutter out a pitiful, "i- no i- I was j-just trying to find th-the bathroom," but you're finding it really hard to focus fck why is she standing so close that you can smell her fck why does she smell so good fck fck fck

"surely you weren't going to hide away all... this... from me?" too close too close you can feel her breath from here oh god what is she looking at why are her eyes wandering like that

you're slammed with instant regret that you decided you didn't need to wear a bra today, and you are painfully aware of the texture of your tshirt as your very excited nipples say hello to the gorgeous lady who is staring directly at them oh lord what is happening

before your mind can catch up she reaches up and brushes a finger in a thoughtless circle against the hard lil bump poking out through your tshirt. "oh my~ looks like i wasn't the only who felt something between us~" she grabs your wrist and starts dragging you into an empty bedroom but you're still trying to process what she just said. wait, what? not.. not the only...????

the click of a door closing pierces through your confusion and brings you back to the present, only to find yourself being pushed back and falling and- oh you were caught by a bed and- oh shit she's kneeling over you-

"im glad i caught you before you could run away, kitten," her lips find yours for the briefest of moments before leaning in right next to your ear and whispering, "i can't stand the thought of missing out on a tasty little snack such as yourself, that would be a tragedy" *she licks your ear* "hmmm, wouldn't it?"

you go to protest but her knee presses up between your thighs and your words are lost to a moan escaping your lips. your head is fuzzy but you can't help yourself and as if they have a mind of their own your hips start moving, desperately pushing up against her knee, you can't get enough aaahhh

"awww what a pretty little slut," she coos, her fingers reaching down and wrapping around your dick and eliciting a sharp gasp from you. "such a good girl, perhaps I should reward you by using you, mmmm?" she grins and her eyes sparkle at you, she's enjoying this too damn much but nnngh fck its so hotttt

the cold air of the room makes your skin prickle as she tugs off your clothes, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. as she pulls her own shirt off and undoes her bra you forget how horny you are for just a moment as you marvel at how breathtaking her body is, she looks like one of the goddesses just dropped out of the sky and now she's undressing in front of you...

... then your eyes trail down a little further as she tugs off her jeans and you inhale sharply at the sight of her gorgeous dick, already dripping and pulling her lacy blue panties taught. oh my god this is really happening oh my god

she wraps you up in her arms and pulls you into her lap, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear so she can sink her teeth uninterrupted into the supple flesh of your neck. her hardness is pressing up against you now and your heart is racing like a hurricane in your chest. all you can manage to squeak out is a desperate, "p-please.." before she sinks herself into your ass. your back arches and your tits press against hers and it feels amazing, so amazing, you can feel her swollen nipples pressed against your own and you cry out with utter desperation

"shhhh, quiet, pet! I don't want anyone interrupting my playtime. nobody gets to enjoy this but me."

you feel sharp nails digging into your back as her throbbing dick thrusts into you even deeper than before, but the shuddering moan trying to escape your throat is silenced by three fingers shoved into your mouth, pressing against your tongue. with that your mind goes utterly blank and your whole body clenches

its too much its too much its too much

you feel her teeth sink into your neck once again, using you to stifle her own moans as she fills your ass with hot cum. you cry out against her fingers and it feels like your whole body is bursting at the seams and in a moment of hazy mind numbing pleasure that seems to hang and stretch out for an eternity....... your body shudders and you orgasm harder than you've ever orgasmed before

your heaving chests still pressed together like the world depends on it, she smiles up at you and you feel a little silly, your mouth dripping with saliva and your thighs covered in the sweet evidence of what you'd otherwise discount as a fever dream.

"what a good girl, a very good girl," she mumbles with a huge shameless grin on her face as she kisses your last few shreds of consciousness away

damn what a crazy part amirite i want to go to a party like this goddamn

[mentally-gone002]

keep him safe

summary: y/n brings spencer to her apartment after noticing him acting differently. 

warnings: mentions of drugs, addiction (i think), blood, guns

a/n: this takes place a few weeks after S3 Ep12 (3rd life) where that kid is killed in front of spencer… and yeah!!! also i apologize cuz i don’t know what addiction is like so hence idk how to write it but i tried… pls enjoy🤓

————————————————————————

7:33 pm

outside the building housing the BAU office it was dark and quiet, only filled with the sound of the few cars that passed and loud chirping of cicadas. it was peaceful compared to the past case that only ended hours before this. 

everyone on the BAU team filed into the building to settled into their desks and get a few files of work completed before they went home to repeat the process the next day. some finished their work quicker; the some was hotch, prentis, rossi, jj and garcia. they all left with quick and tired goodbyes to the remaining members of the team until the only tree left were y/n and spencer and morgan. 

when morgan did leave he shot a suggestive look at the two youngest agents. “have fun tonight you two.” he smirked. y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. 

spencer was working slow for once, his eyes not taking in all the words of the page at the quick rate they usually do. his fingers tapped at his desk and made the pen in his dominant hand flip and twist. he was fidgeting more than he usually did. 

y/n noticed this of course. because she was just one bullpen away from him and because they were close friends… and she was a profiler. she knew when something was picking his brain, good or bad. he had been like this for a few weeks and today was the day she would step in. because she knew spencer. he wouldn’t reach out until he was too far into a hole he had dug for himself.

she watched him for half an hour in between work until she swiveled in her seat, turning it until her legs were free from beneath the desk. she stood up and walked around to his desk. 

“knock, knock.” she interrupted the silence with an accompanying wrap of her knuckles against his desk. she didn’t want to startle him, as he seemed to be on edge already. “you doing alright with that?” the question she asked was gentle while she leaned her hip against the desks edge and stared down at the brown haired man as he stared back. 

he shrugged. “i can’t really focus on it.” spencer confessed with a tired voice. his eyes had early signs of bruising underneath them that she caught onto before they disappeared behind his thin fingers that pressed into the corners of his eyes in exhaustion. 

a sigh flowed from her nose. she dropped her head to the side and her cheek smushed against her shoulder. “you okay?” she was concerned for him; he’d been quieter than usual on the way home. 

spencer nodded. “yeah, yeah. i’m okay, just- just can’t focus.” he told her as he slumped back into his chair. his pen was abandoned on the open file on the table. he stared blankly at the case file, almost in horror. 

she looked with him at the papers with the inside of her cheek held between her teeth, thinking to herself prior to flipping the file closed. spencer sat up a little with his mouth opening but she shushed him. “you can work on it tomorrow, okay? we’re gonna go home.” y/n said to him with a tone that told spencer not to fight her in this. 

“you said ‘we’ and ‘home’ in the same sentence. i don’t understand.” spencer followed her with his brown eyes, spinning himself in his chair to keep them on her as y/n walked back to her desk, switching off her lamp and grabbing her purse. 

she looked at him over her computer, turning it off with the almost unheard click of a button. “you’re gonna stay with me tonight.” she answered him simply. 

he furrowed his brows. “why?” 

“because i don’t trust you to be alone tonight.” 

spencer swallowed thickly with how her eyes bore into his own. he could have, no, should have known that y/n would have caught onto his behavior. 

a case from weeks ago had taken a toll on him. seeing a kid shot in front of his eyes after he tried everything he could to convince jack, the father of lindsay who was kidnapped, not to shoot the teen holding her captive. the image scarred him; how the bullet exploded the boys head from the close range, how the blood splattered on the walls, and how he stood there in shock because he didn’t know what to do. 

“i’m okay.” he swore to her. 

she pursed her lips as she walked back to his desk. “don’t fight me on this,” her voice was low in a whisper. “i want to help you, spencer.” she reached down to place her hand on the back of his where it rested on the desk. 

spencer swallowed thickly once more before he sighed, looking away. “okay.” when her hand retracted away from his, he stood up and put his bag over his shoulder. 

y/n smiled at him and started walking with spencer on her heels out of the glass doors of the BAU office, into the elevator and to her car. 

9:07 pm

y/n smiled as she unlocked the door to her apartment and walked inside with her hand on the nob until spencer was all the way inside. 

he’d been in her apartment multiple times which meant there was no awkward moments as he took off his shoes and hung his bag on the rack beside the door. 

“are you hungry?” she asked him as she entered her small kitchen and he went to sit at the island. 

“i’m alright… just tired.” he told her with his elbows leaning on the counter. he blinked slowly. 

“okay.” she looked him over with sad eyes. “spencer?” he looked up at her at the utter of his name. “if there’s something wrong you can talk to me.” 

her statement had him nodding with his head lowered and his eyes closed. 

she was the one person he actually told about his addiction problem that had taken him over almost few months ago, and she’d helped him stop. but now he had the urge to use again, and that’s why she brought him home with her. that was why. 

y/n padded out from behind the kitchen island to spencer and her arms went around his middle. her chest was against his curved back from his posture from leaning over the counter a bit and she rested her cheek on his shoulder blade. he was warm through his clothes and his heartbeat was loud, but slow in y/n’s ear.

“thank you.” the words were whispered by spencer. 

“you’re welcome.” y/n whispered back to him. her thumb on one hand slowly trailed up and down where it was against the front of his waist, almost the middle of his abdomen. “i just want you to be safe.” 

“i know.” he breathed heavily due to how her touch was so kind and soft, unlike their job. 

a comfortable silence settled over y/n’s apartment as they stayed where they were at the kitchen island. spencer was in the verge of sleep from how at ease he was, and not a single image of the long past case was in his head, until she pulled away, then it all came rushing back to him. but he wasn’t going to tell her. there was a part of him that knew she knew. 

she always knew. 

“cmon, it’s late.” y/n ran a hand down his back as she stepped away from the proximity, straying to go towards her bedroom. 

spencer stared after her and decided to follow once she disappeared from his sight through the door separating her own space from the open concept of her apartment. 

her bedroom was homy. soft colors made up her bed, curtains and walls, while her dresser and nightstands were a darker shade. spencer liked it. 

“you remember where your clothes are right?” she called from where she stood in front of her bathroom mirror. 

“yeah.” spencer answered. his socked feet carried him to her dresser. the top right drawer was his. it had a set of pajamas and work clothes in it. 

it was almost like spencer and y/n were in a relationship. they had the details of one. with the clothes of the other at each of their houses, the secret looks they passed, some what harmless flirting. they were very close. so close that almost all of their coworkers were waiting for the day they finally got together; they’ve been waiting for three years. 

spencer quickly changed out of his work clothes and into pajamas before slipping into y/n’s bed. he was going to go sleep on her couch but that would only result in her dragging him back to her room. he laid in his left side, facing her empty space with eyes on her pillow u til she joined him, almost coming nose to nose with him. 

“i’m glad you didn’t go to the couch.” she told him. 

his mouth tugged up in the corners. “i decided against it. i knew you’d just drag me back here.” he said it through a yawn. 

“you know me too well.” she hummed. 

“i do.” 

silence. 

“thank you, again.” spencer muttered. 

y/n nodded against her pillow. “it’s my job to look out for people. you just happen to be the most important people i do that for.” 

spencer nodded slowly at her words, smiling softly again. he absentmindedly fidgeted with the top of her comforter, twisting and pulling at the seam between his fingers anxiously. he was at ease with her, but that feeling in his body kept flashing over him. the part of him that wanted to use dilaudid kept resurfacing. 

y/n frowned. “hey,” her hand snaked out from under the comforter to brush through his soft hair, “where’d you go?” she searched his eyes with her own for the previously smiling spencer. he must have gone away for now. 

spencer shrugged with a shaky inhale. “i don’t know…” he blinked his eyes closed, hard. it’s what he did when he wanted to keep himself from crying. he sniffled a little, still toying with the seam of the comforter. 

y/n’s heart ached for him. she’d seen a lot of things that made her feel many different ways, but seeing spencer like this made her want to cry. 

spencer opened his eyes and looked at her. they were glossed over, creating an almost pretty sheen over the amber-brown color. the tear that slipped from one of his eyes made her move the hand she had in his hair to wipe it away. “i almost started using again…” his voice was quivering. “i just don’t want to see that dead kid anymore.”

y/n moved closer to his body under the covers. her hand rested on the side of his face, thumb drawing a gentle line back and forth over his cheekbone. “i know you don’t, babe.” she whispered. “what can i do for you?” 

spencer shrugged immediately after your question registered with him. “i just need distractions.” 

she nodded subtly. her hands retracted from his face as she rolled over to grab a book off her nightstand. “can i read to you?” 

spencer was quick to nod prior to moving closer to her. his arms were acting as a pillow for his head as he remained laying on his side, only inches away from her as she opened her book. 

she started reading, which made spencer’s mind go blank as he listened. he liked how slow she was with the words, taking her time. sometimes she’d stutter, or ask him how to pronounce something. it was a nice change from how he read. 

y/n paused her reading to take a quick glance down at spencer, seeing how he had curled into himself and was now breathing steadily with a few soft snores mixed in. she smiled to herself and closed the book, putting it back on her nightstand and switched off the light.

[sapphic-kpop-fics]

Toxic (Im Nayeon x Reader)

Model!Nayeon x Actor!Reader

Angst, smut

“I know I should stay away from you, but I can’t.” “We both know you’ll be back for more.”

“Stop looking at me.” “I can’t. And I don’t think you want me to either.”

“They don’t make me feel the way you do.”

Baby girl Nayeon would never i know but when the inspiration flows it flows

It was a Saturday night and of course as an actor you had an event to go to, so here you were at your shared house with your best friend Jihyo,who’s helping you get ready.

“You know, Nayeon is going to be there.” Your dark haired friend breaks the silence as she’s helping you with some make up.

“I know.”

Jihyo takes a step back to look you in the eyes before scoffing

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What?”

“Do not talk to her. Do not even look at her. And definitely do not go back to her room after.”

“But-“

“No. She ruined you last time. And the time before. And the ten other times before that.”

“She’s not-“

“What? She’s not that bad?”

You are silenced at how predictable your words had become every time you talked about the girl in question.

“Y/n I love you so much but please for your sake and mine, stay away from her.”

“Fine.”

Jihyo doesn’t seem convinced but leaves it alone nonetheless, finishing your make up and allowing you to look in the mirror. A honk outside pulls you from your thoughts, your ride was here.

The drive to the event was definitely way too long and gave you too much time to think about Nayeon, and how bad you missed her but also all of things she’d done to hurt you. The beginning of the event was easy, random small talk with the others there. Nayeon was no where to be seen for a while but later in the night it was like all of the air got sucked out of the building and you knew she had arrived. You could feel her all around you, her presence was suffocating and magnetic all the same. You didn’t have to look up from your glass at the bar to know that she was behind you walking towards you like a predator stalking it’s prey, before she reached you some actor stops her and is obviously flirting with her, you admit it made you jealous even if she wasn’t your girlfriend anymore your shoulders tense and you’re not sure if it’s from the jealousy or the impending doom of knowing she’s going to come over to you. Nayeon knew you were in earshot and she was using it to her advantage, openly flirting and even agreeing to seeing the man sometime in the future. The man walks away, too happy for a man in your opinion, and the sent of your exes floral scented perfume fills your sense, it’s intoxicating in more ways then one, like you’ll suffocate off it but you also need it to live. She sits in the stool next to you, asking the bartender for a drink and also for another one of whatever is in your mostly empty glass before turning to you with a smile.

“Hi.” Is all she says, it’s flirty and low.

“I don’t want to speak to you.” You answer, though your tone is not convincing. You end your sentence by finishing your drink and finally looking at her. Of course she looks stunning, her brown hair pulled up into a bun and a short black dress clinging to her skin, riding up her thighs as she sat with her legs crossed.

“Really? Because I think you do.” Her smile turns into a smirk as she notices your gaze lingering on her nearly bare thighs.

“Why don’t you go talk to that guy?” You try to say it quietly enough so she won’t hear but of course she selectively has super hearing.

“Hm, jealous? We’re not even together anymore baby.” You close your eyes at the nickname, your heart fluttering a bit.

“I’m not jealous. And don’t call me that.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Because you’re here.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

You don’t answer her, you just focus on the drink in front of you, praying that someone will come up and save you from this interaction as you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her orbit. You could feel her eyes burning holes into you as she waited for you to talk to her, if Nayeon was anything when it came to you it was persistent.

“You’re so pretty, you know” She whispers as she gets closer to your ear.

“Stop looking at me.”

“I can’t. And I don’t think you want me to either.”

You wouldn’t admit it but it was true. It was apparent by her hand that goes to your knee and the way she looks at you as whispers in your ear that she has a plan, and it involved getting you to come home with her. You knew her games, and it was the same every time. You’d break up, then weeks or months later you’d find each other at an event and get tipsy and end up getting a ride to whoever’s hotel or house is closer, and when you’d wake up on the morning either she would pull you in closer as you slept and it led to getting back “together” for a few weeks, or as it usually would end she’d try to kick you out as soon as you’re awake causing a fight where you storm out and promise to never speak to each other again. The latter had happened about four months ago both of you being too stubborn to interact with the other first unless it was an event, this was the longest you’d gone without seeing her since you met and now here she was acting as if you just saw her yesterday.

Maybe it was the alcohol or you simply were just too in love with the girl but her actions worked, your resolve is basically nonexistent so when she asks the next question you don’t hesitate to stand up taking her hand from your knee and pulling her through the room to the door to the curb where you find your manager waiting for you in a car and when seeing Nayeon with you he sighs, knowing to take you to her house instead of yours. You pull the girl into the back seat, there was a divider between the front and back seats and tinted windows, which lets you push your lips on hers freely as she sits near the window. You feel her lips turn into a smirk, knowing her effect on you.

“I missed you.” Nayeon mumbles into your mouth, not bothering to disconnect your lips.

The drive is fairly short but filled with the breathy sounds you’re both making as you make out. You only disconnect when the car stops in Nayeon’s driveway, now it’s her turn to grab your hand and drag you away into her house, she fumbles with her keys and bit as she unlocks her door. She kisses you as she closes the door, backing herself up against it and pulling you flush against her, instinctively her legs part allowing for your thigh to fit between them, a soft gasp leaving the girls lips which allows for you to push your tongue past her lips and tangling it with her own.

“Take me to bed.” Her tone both pleading but demanding, she looks up at you through her eyelashes and hooded lids. Without a second thought you comply, lifting her by her thighs so she wraps her legs and arms around you, face going into your neck as she yelps at the suddenness, you could feel her smile against your skin.

You rush up the stairs to her bedroom on the second floor, sitting her on the bed. She sits up sitting on the edge of the bed, hands holding her up behind her as she looks to you, face flushed and pupils blown. You kneel in front of her in the ground, her legs spreading to fit you in between like they had a mind of their own, giving you a view of her lacy black underwear which were noticeably damp. Her dress now sat almost at her hips, riding up everytime she moved. Your hands move to her feet where she was still wearing her high heels, you remove them and put them off to the side carefully setting them down as they looked expensive. Lifting her legs to rest on your shoulders you kiss from her knees to her thighs, leaving little marks as you moved. The brunette squired underneath every touch, her hand got tangled into your hair trying to pull your head so your lips would meet where she needed your touch. You let her control your head but instead of giving in you leave tiny barely there kisses on the fabric, you can feel her wetness as you do so. Nayeon pulls the bottom of her dress up so it’s bunched around her waist, exposing her from the waist down.

“Please, baby.” She whines. “It’s been so long.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t fuck anyone in four months?” You tease from below her, you knew the answer I mean she couldn’t help fucking other people even when you were together.

“They don’t make me feel the way you do” and she’s telling the truth, they didn’t, no one did.

You don’t answer, opting to pull her panties down to throwing them across the room, hands gripping her thighs as you lean forward to finally taste her. Both of you moan at the contact, yearning built over the past 4 months of mutual silence.

“Fuck baby.” Her teeth pulling her lip between them, biting down hard enough to almost draw blood at the feeling of your tongue drawing circles around her clit. You can feel her hand tighten in your hair. Nayeon was never shy in bed, sure she enjoyed letting you take control sometimes but she was incredibly vocal whether is praises and dirty talk or stuttered words and loud moans that you swear could be heard in the next city over.

After only a few minutes you felt Nayeon’s thighs start to shake and tighten around your head, moans getting louder and more high pitched. It was quick you thought, Nayeon was never one to last only a few minutes.

“Close already? Miss me that much?” You ask teasingly.

“I- yes, fuck I missed you so bad.” Moans interrupt her every couple words, “missed that tongue.” Her eye roll back as she reaches her climax. The moans turn into whimpers as you help her ride out the high. Moving up to her face and kissing her you guide her to the center of the bed to lay down as you take your place between her thighs again. And you stayed like that for at least an hour, taking turns pleasing each other until you both collapse into the bed from the exhaustion.

Checking your phone as you settle into Nayeons expensive mattress you see some missed calls and texts, all from your best friend and roommate. Shit.

hyo 🫦

3 missed calls

hyo 🫦

Where are you?

You said you were coming home after the event .

I swear to god if you’re in Nayeon’s bed right now.

You

Went out to an after party, staying at a friends.

hyo🫦

Friend?

“I have to go.” You break the silence, your friends text reminding you that this was wrong and you shouldn’t be here, you feel guilt take over your body as you start to get up, ignoring Nayeon’s stare.

“What? Why?” She asks, seemingly hurt at your quickness to leave.

“I just- i have something to do”

“Y/n, It’s 1am, stay here.”

“No, I shouldn’t even be here.”

You could see some hurt flash in her eyes, it almost makes you feel more guilty than sleeping with her did, but she hurt you many times before so why should you care? ….right?

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re toxic Nayeon. It’s exhausting You’re exhausting.”

“Oh.” It was the quietest you’d ever heard her. She still sat on her bed, her eyes glued to her hands that were fiddling with each other. In all your years knowing the girl you’d never seen her so small, granted you had never even thought about being insulting her or being blunt to her about how you perceive her treatment of you.

“I know I should stay away from you, but I can’t.” You continue, ignoring her slightly glossy eyes that finally meet yours as you get dressed, “or I couldn’t. But it’s different this time.” You couldn’t tell if you were telling her or yourself.

Suddenly, Nayeon’s eyes switch from sadness to anger, something you had seen before.

“You’ve said that before.” She starts, “and guess what? You ended up right here every time, in MY bed, fucking ME.”

“I-“

“You know what? You’re exhausting, honestly. So fucking pathetic I mean look at you.” Her voice is venomous and sharp. Her hand gestures to your face, where tears had started to form at the tone she was using. “You come crawling back every single fucking time and you expect me to believe that anything will change”, she laughs mockingly, “At the end of the day we both know you’ll be back for more.”

You knew she was right. She always was. Sure you may not text her but you both know as soon as you see her in person you can’t resist.

“Shut up.” It’s weak, and quiet. And made even more pathetic when you wipe your tears as you say it.

“What was that?” She mocks

“Fuck you Nayeon.” Finally finding your voice as you walk to her door and open it, rushing down the stairs.

Nayeon doesn’t bother following you, she knows you don’t have a ride home, that you told your manager not to come back until tomorrow and that he should turn off his phone for the night but she didn’t care, you could walk and she’d be satisfied right now.

You on the other hand, did not want to walk in the middle of Seoul to your house but you also refused to go back inside as Nayeon had been waiting for you to do from her bedroom window. So you opted to call Jihyo, which could’ve been a mistake but you didn’t care at this point. She answers quickly, seemingly waiting for you to call or text again.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you say when she answers, “I’m at Nayeon’s”

“I know.” Jihyos disappointed voice makes your heart ache a bit, “I’m leaving now.” Is all she says before hanging up, leaving you to sit on Nayeon’s front step to wait.

It doesn’t take too long, but you can feel Nayeon looking at you every so often from her window, you knew she was hoping you’d knock on the door or at least look at her but you didn’t, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. When Jihyo arrives she gets of the car, looking up to Nayeon and giving a stare that could’ve killed her before looking at you.

“Come on. You’ll be okay” she assures as she walks you to the passenger seat.

The drive home is silent, a mix of worry and disappointment wafting off of Jihyo as she gripped the steering wheel.

The next few weeks were filled with text messages from Nayeon, asking to see you and apologizing saying she’ll be better finally. But then there was silence. Would it stay was the question.

[thebluester2020]

[ZZZ] "How To Recieve An A+ In Housekeeping!"

Summary: Attempting to get a job in Victorian Housekeeping Co. is a very strenuous process! One must show a wide variety of skills, good vocabulary, and excellent manners— all three were skills that you were failing at but, luckily the leader of the company had the perfect method to teach you these skills and it all starts with a program! Warning(s): Dom! Lycaon / Sub! Reader, Brat-Taming [Reader's a bit mouthy at best tbh] Spanking, Slight Edging, Cum Denial [Kinda? Lycaon encourages reader not to cum but doesn't do anything to enforce it tbh], Lycian being gentlemanly as hell. (Feel free to tell me if I missed anything!) Side Note(s): I won't say I am/am not a furry. But I will say that my taste in dudes will always favor them where they're stoic and serious but have a secret soft side. Respectfully, those types of men make me want to do the sexy splits on them.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this <33

"Your manners are terrible"

When those words left the wolfman's mouth sternly as you sat before him, only a desk separating the two of you, you could've sworn you felt a metaphorical anvil drop into your stomach. You had been job-hunting for a couple of weeks now, after your last gang had disbanded due to the leader getting caught up with the law. You no longer had a steady flow of cash (albeit a little illegal ) coming in!

From gang member to attempted housemaid...it was laughable. Even to you.

And clearly, the leader of the Victorian Housekeeping company thought so too from the way he looked at your resume with a strict gaze once more before resuming looking at you. You were fully expectant of another harsh sentence to slip from his sharp-toothed youth until...you heard a heavy sigh escape him.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, the very room seeming to react to the movement by the way the single light above you two flickered. His then he huffed. "There is a way to improve to improve your manners, however, you'll be learning from me personally."

You gasped. "Really?! Thank you so much, man!"

His ear twitched at the casual "man" you threw his way. "...Sir or mister is a more proper way of speaking to your male superiors."

You cleared your throat and uttered a 'sorry'. "The program will be for three weeks. Each week will be dedicated to a specific set of manners that you are to master if you wish to join the company."

"Which are?" You responded.

"The first week will be vocabulary, communication with clients, and the correct words to address people by," As Lyacon said this, he opened a drawer on his side before pulling out a piece of paper and sliding it to you. You slowly began to read over the paper, one that seemed like a contract of sorts as the wolf continued to talk.

"The second week will simply focus on posture."

You scoffed as your eyes flicked back up to his. "Posture? Ain't that just walkin'?"

"Proper posture is harder to achieve than one may assume Ms. Y/N." He said. "The third week will be—"

The sudden clearing of his throat made him stop immediately, your face suddenly but quickly turning red as you reached a section on the paper that caught your eye.

Complete submission is expected by those who train under Von Lycaon, especially those he offers "favors" to.

"F-Favors...?"

"Favors hint towards a sexual nature, if I'm to assume that was the inquiry to your question?"

In your former gang, you had heard about Von Lycaon and the whole attitude of the white wolfman. He was a pinnacle of perfection in seemingly everything he did! There didn't seem to be a single thing he half-assed, to put it crudely, and what's more? He didn't get distracted. So...for a document to suggest that he wanted submission during sex?

You didn't know if it was shocking or expected.

"I didn't expect the Lycaon to need a document to garner sex." You said.

A rare chuckle left him. "I don't," He answered. "But everyone learns quicker and better when praise and pleasure is included, correct? This is merely a suggestion for you to learn faster. You are more than welcome to opt out of this."

"And if I accept?" Upon that question, the corners of Lycaon's mouth curled up slightly as he slowly leaned in until you could just barely feel his breath.

"Then you will learn fast. On my honor, I promise you."

You should've said no to this optional part of the program. All you needed was a job and Lycaon made it clear that there was a sexless version of the program where you'd simply learn the old-fashioned way! No pleasure or sex included but...as your eyes steadily trailed over the thiren, you couldn't deny he was a handsome individual. It wouldn't be unpleasant in the slightest to have benefits while completing your training under him. And as you steadily came to that conclusion, your thighs beginning to clench underneath the desk.

The thiren briefly sniffed at the air before he closed his eyes and exhaled. He was as still as a statue for a brief moment before he cleared his throat and offered you a pen from his breast pocket.

"I didn't give you an official answer—"

"Your scent gave me a suggestion." His raspy voice in combination with the sudden feral look in his eyes...you all too quickly shooed away any doubts you may have had before you began to sign away on the line at the bottom of the paper. And once you did, sliding the paper gently back to the wolf, he read over it briefly before he folded it neatly and placed it back into a drawer.

"We shall begin Monday," Lycaon said. "Please be prompt and on-time, I don't tolerate tardiness."

"Yeah, yeah." You scoffed.

And thus, your training as a potential housemaid for the Victorian Housekeeping Company has officially begun.

. . .

| Week One |

You had slept in, you had forgotten to set a timer over the weekend, too engrossed with the fact that you had basically agreed to have sex with Lycaon during your three-week training! The second you arrived home, it was a struggle to not touch yourself to the thought of what he looked like underneath his kept-together appearance.

You imagined he'd be soft to the touch judging by how much fur he had.

Would he be firm with his gaze, demanding you to be perfect even in the heat of the moment? Or would be he gentle and accommodating with you?

No matter how much your body cried out for you to indulge yourself a little, you saved it until you experienced it for yourself.

But right now, as your head was bowed down in apology to the wolfman for making him wait over forty minutes to your first day. You had a strong feeling you wouldn't be experiencing anything pleasurable today. "Once again dude, I am SO sorry!" You said.

"I forgot to set a timer, then I wanted to stop and get some breakfast along the way—"

"Stop," He snapped his jaws with a growl seeming to bubble just underneath the surface, the sight of his fangs making you shudder out of fear and...the slightest hint of excitement.

"First appearances are important, the most important out of any interaction and you sullied it on your first day of training? How do you expect to work for the company with such a flippant attitude?"

"I said sorry—"

"Sorry does not cut it Ms. Y/N. Excusing being a minute or two late is another matter but forty? Punishment is the only fitting way to solve such blatant disregard for other people's time." At those chilling words, Lycaon took a single step toward you before he took your chin into his hand, his eyes scanning over your nervous form with a critical gaze before he eventually sighed.

"I have a punishment in mind, please see to it that you are undressed in my office within' five minutes, and be on time."

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers before you huffed defiantly. "I'm not doing that!" You yelled.

His ear flicked, to him? You sounded like an impudent child, screaming and doing anything to get out of being scolded by their parent. "No?" He tilted his head.

"No!"

A wolfish smirk crept onto his face. "Every minute you stand here is an additional minute to your punishment Ms. Y/N. Do take care to remember that."

And so, there you stood.

| + | + | + |

You wouldn't be able to claim that he wasn't patient for the entire duration you had a fit about being punished on the first day of training. For about ten whole minutes, you stood there staring at the thiren until you eventually got bored and decided that "your punishment wouldn't be that bad" and simply went to his office!

You sat on a black couch and waited and when Lycaon came in?

The way he so quickly got his hands on you felt like you were being thrown around by an uncouth beast, a complete switch from the gentlemanly wolf you were talking to just a few minutes ago.

Slap! "Count." He ordered.

"O-One—Ah!"

He tutted his lips with a shake of his head as his hand slapped against your ass again, your maid uniform tugged up to your midsection as he pinned your hands down with his free hand. "Proper communication is most effective when you're speaking clearly Ms. Y/N...also, it's "one, sir"."

Another slap against your red behind rang out in the air, your body jerking forward a little at the movement. "At this rate, you'll never reach fifty." He sighed.

"W-Wait...!" You begged. "J-Just give me a break...so I can c-catch my breath—" When he slowly inched his hand upward again, your eyes widened as you quickly remembered your manners. "S-Sir! J-Just let me catch my breath...please."

If your eyes weren't blurry with tears, your mind getting fuzzier and fuzzier as you tried to ignore the ache in your cunt. You could've sworn you saw his tail move a little. After a minute, however, a sharp gasp left your swollen lips when you felt a finger graze against your sex, the featherlight touch making you shudder as you whipped your head around to look at the Lycaon.

Unconsciously, his tongue poked out to sweep against his upper set of canines as he focused on how your slick oozed out from your pussy so shamelessly. But at the same time? He figured he shouldn't have been shocked at the lewd sight, his keen hearing didn't miss the way a tiny moan would escape your lips at each slap. It was as if you wanted him to keep going and didn't want your punishment to end anytime soon.

Such behavior wasn't befitting of a potential future employee at the company. "Are you done recuperating? If so, then let us continue."

"W-Wait..." You begged. "J-Just a little time- Ah!"

"Now, now—" He pressed his hand down on your wrists a little more, lightly pinching at your thigh with the tip of his claws to calm your squirming. "—If you focus and count Ms. Y/N then your punishment will be over very soon, please remain focused."

After a final warning, he was quick to resume his smacks against your ass. The pain and pleasure eventually blurring into one another enough for your brain to somehow find a way to "center" itself. And, after around twenty minutes...Lycaon finally released you from your bent-over position over his lap and got up.

A lingering rebelliousness in the back of your head wanted to curse out the wolf as he stood, fixing his cuffs until they were neat again as if he wasn't rocking a blatant boner in his trousers! Yet as your mouth began to open as he walked further away...it quickly shut when he started walking back to you after grabbing something from a bookshelf behind his desk.

"What is that?" You asked.

"Aloe cream, it should help with the burn and any burning sensations."

Oh, you thought.

How...nice of him.

At your silence, his head tilted as he sat down next to you. "Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, y-yeah...I just wasn't expecting aftercare." You blushed.

"Your work would be even more affected if I didn't do this, I wouldn't want that." Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat.

. . .

| Week Two |

You didn't want to admit it to yourself at the time but you knew full well as to why your heart skipped a beat that day. At first, you tried to joke and claim that you were a masochist starting to bloom! Von Lycaon was handsome, yes but you knew how to distinguish between work and personal lives! Besides, you wanted money more than you did romance and if the latter interfered with your money...you weren't in any shape or form interested in it.

But, at the second week's coming, this week focused on posture if your memory served correctly. You couldn't lie or joke to yourself anymore.

You developed a crush on your future boss.

And it grew harder and harder to deny that fact in your...current position. Naked aside from your short black heels, you were standing right in front of Lycaon with his pants pulled down just enough to reveal his leaking dick. The tip seemed to turn increasingly into an angrier red as you continued to stay frozen in place. "Are you uncomfortable?" Lycaon's words snapped you out of your thoughts before you shook your head.

"N-No sir! It's just..." You went quiet for a second. "How...how is this going to teach me posture?"

"If you would come closer, I will show you." Like a siren's song, the beckoning of his clawed finger made you take small steps forward until you were finally in front of him. "I'll be letting you take control of me for some time," You could've sworn you caught a smirk on his lips at his words. "If you manage to fuck me until I cum with the correct posture then consider your training done, and welcome to your new job as a new maid to the Victorian Housekeeping company. I'll be generous and not even include the third week of training."

"But—" As his hand found its way to your hips, he gently tugged you forward until he slowly maneuvered you to straddle him on his lap, his cock throbbing against your stomach as beads of sweat started to appear at the back of your neck. He reached the middle of your stomach, easily! And that wasn't even considering his girth. "—If your posture fails, you will unfortunately stick to the original training program. And I must warn you, most do not manage to get through week three."

You jumped a little when you felt Lycaon's hand move down to your pussy. "What are you doing?" You voiced out shakily, your clit throbbing at Lycaon's touch as one finger alone was enough to cover your entire clit.

"Preparing you of course," He said with an "obviously" tone. "No matter how much I can smell your eagerness in the air—" A sharp moan escaped your lips when his finger started to slowly move, your cheeks burning at the fact you let out such a noise from such little stimulation. "—I doubt you will be able to fully take me without a little prep."

"Y-You..." You bit your tongue to keep a curse from flying out, your hands quickly moving to his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself and not lose yourself too quickly to the pleasure. A task that you were quickly failing at as you felt a knot slowly begin to form in the pit of your stomach, scorching hot tears brimming your eyes as a single line of drool fell from the corner of your lips.

And Lycaon was enjoying every second of it.

If he were to be honest with himself.

He didn't want you to succeed this time.

After having so much fun with you last week, he would say that he had gotten a bit greedy. As entertaining as it was to tame your bratty behavior and mold it into something more palpable as someone who would be interacting with clients often, it was torture all the same to him to not shut you up with his cock instead! It wasn't enough to rut into his hand at the end of every day, heated pants leaving his lips as his tongue lulled out of his mouth like some common dog begging for a slip of meat.

To say that it was unbecoming of him to set you up for failure was an understatement, rubbing your needy bud until you nearly squirted on him wouldn't make you last very long when you were actually seated on his cock. And as cruel as it was for him to say...how unbecoming and un-gentlemanly it was...

He was so fucking eager for you to fail.

"S-Sir..." His ears perked to your whining as your head fell his chest, his ears then moving to the sound of lewd squelching coming from your pussy. "Please...I-I'm so close..." You whined.

He allowed himself to play with you a minute longer until...he took his finger away.

He struggled to withhold a laugh at your state, your eyes seeming to be confused and stuck between wanting to glare angrily at him or beggingly like a wanton whore for him to continue. "Don't look like that," He said. "If I were to make you cum now, you would be too shaky to fuck me."

You were too shaky now.

But, you'd first kiss the seat of a toilet lid before admitting defeat.

"I-I won't fail this..." You said with determination, although breathlessly.

His tail wagged ever so slightly at your determination. "We shall see," He responded before he relaxed against the couch with a deep sigh. "Please begin at your leisure Ms. Y/N." When you took him into your hand, you felt a surge of confidence at Lycaon's not-so-quiet sharp inhale of breath. You prayed that he was just as needy as you because as you lined him up to your entrance and started to slid him into you, every inch that sunk further into you made your mouth gap wider and wider until you were certain you looked like a gasping fish.

He rubbed against your walls so nicely too, his girth stretching you out just enough to where it made you drool as it touched spots inside of you that you hadn't had a clue existed until today!

"F-Fuckkkkk..." You moaned out once you were fully seated on him.

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, desperately trying to ignore that burning feeling in your core as you began to move.

"Shit." Oh, how you just wanted to just shove a hand over his snout to keep him from letting out such sexy noises. His raspy voice and the way his thumbs rubbed encouraging circles into your hips...it wasn't good for you. You'd cum faster at this rate.

"Faster," Lycaon suddenly ordered, opening one of his red eyes to look at you.

"I...I can't- Oh!" Your words caught in your throat when he suddenly fucked up into you. A squeal nearly leaving your throat as you shut your eyes tightly to try and force back that urge to cum.

"Disobeying a superior now Ms. Y/N?" One of his hands slowly dragged up your back before it gently shoved you forward a little. Immediately, you fixed your posture although you nearly fell back over a couple of times. "You should watch yourself, my type of punishment for this act won't be very fun."

You doubted that.

But, as your hands tightened on his shoulders and you fucked yourself more quicker onto him. Tears started to flow down your cheeks more easily as you couldn't deny the burning feeling in your stomach anymore, how the way Lycaon's dick throbbed inside of you and pressed against your most sensitive spots...the urge to beg him for the chance to cum, just once was on the tip of your tongue but you tried to stay focused. "Oh my God..." He moaned deeply.

"Fuckkk..."

"A-Are you close?" You whined.

He scoffed. "Not even close," You felt your hopes nearly crash and shatter at those words. "But...your pussy feels so good on my cock," He praised, his tail thumping against the couch unabashedly as he stared up at you with hooded eyes and a feral gaze. "Perhaps, instead of a maid, you should be my personal breeding toy."

His smirk grew when he felt your pussy tighten around his cock.

"Yeah?" He asked. "You like that?"

You shook your head, shutting your eyes tightly as if not seeing him would help your situation anyway. However, as you felt a furred hand cup the side of your face, the feeling of breaths hitting your face. Your eyes slowly cracked open to the wolf thiren's face right in front of yours, panting and moaning with little to no shame before he smiled. "So pretty like this Y/N..." He said before his leaned down to begin pressing kisses to the side of your neck.

Briefly, the thought of whether or not this was a part of the training flashed in the front of your mind. But...as quick as it came, it was gone. You wanted to believe that...he wasn't following some manual when it came to his actions, that they were meant just for you and you alone. "You're so wet, making so much noise...I think I was right in my earlier suggestion hm? Maybe you will do better as my toy."

You shook your head. "Don't lie." He lightly nipped your shoulder, the sharp sudden pain being just what you needed to throw you over the edge before...Lycaon's ears moved to the sound of gushing and the feeling of wetness splashing against his pants and a bit of his thighs.

Without a second thought, his fingers shot down to gather some of your cum onto his fingers before he tasted you, a groan rumbling out as he almost shocked himself with how fast he got hard again. But before he could mention it, much less suggest it, when Lycaon returned his gaze to you. He saw you passed out against his chest, the very sight making him laugh ever so quietly before he sighed.

He supposed he was feeling a touch bit generous...he expected you to cum within seconds of fucking yourself onto his cock but it took you longer than that! To the point, he actually began to worry about cumming first or not! Although he had a mind not to be, he decided to be generous and forgiving seeing as you fucked him until the point of total exhaustion on your point.

He'd give you a passing A+ for effort.

[lucifersgirl]

Lucifer's s/o sees him in his pink undersuit and gets really excited because of how good he looks?

Oh, absolutely!!

Pink

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ - THIS WRITING CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. SMUT BELOW. MDNI

————————

“Lucifer? Baby, where are you?” You turned the corner, searching the palace for your beloved.

“I’m here!” He called from the kitchen. “Getting some dinner ready for us, honey. Its soup. It’s a new recipe,” he added proudly.

You smiled, following the sound of his voice into the kitchen. “Smells good,” you complemented, the aroma wafting through the room and into your nose. You suddenly stopped in your tracks.

Lucifer was wearing his pink undershirt and a white pair of pants. He looked absolutely stunning, cooking dinner for the both of you in just a few pieces of clothing. “Something wrong, dear?” He asked, tilting his head in concern.

“No! No, nothings wrong. You just…your clothes…I’ve never seen you wear just that…” you stuttered through the sentence, still in awe of your boyfriend.

Lucifer blushed lightly and smiled. “Oh, yeah! I just threw something on. Better than cooking in nothing at all, right?” He chuckled.

You snapped out of your trance and a smile crossed your face at his words. You walked behind him and kissed the back of his head. “Maybe we oughta test that out, hmm?” You kissed down his neck, sucking lightly on the supple skin.

“Oh, darling…” Lucifer groaned, his head tilting back in pleasure. His hand gripped the spoon he was using to stir the pot of soup tightly, nearly breaking it.

“Focus on the dish, Luci~,” you whispered in his ear, your sultry voice making him buck his hips slightly upwards, craving friction as his dick hardened.

“Oh, goodness…” he sighed as one of your hands went to the bottom of his shirt.

You tugged gently, freeing the soft cloth from its place. You lifted it over his head, being careful as to not hurt him. Then, your hand glided down Lucifer’s torso until it finally reached the hem of his pants. Your hand slowly pushed past the fabric.

“Baby, I’m not gonna be able to-ahm!” Lucifer gasped as your palm touched his already aching cock.

“You’re not gonna be able to what, sweetheart?” You smiled against the side of his neck, pressing a small kiss there.

“I-I’m not gonna b-be able to cook like t-this…” he frowned and whined at the same time.

“Then don’t be so damn sexy all the time, Lucifer.” You replied, your right hand now flicking over his dripping tip.

Lucifer’s hips bucked up into your hand involuntarily, a moan leaving his lips as you continued your actions. “F-fucking hell…” he whimpered, “‘m close…”

“Already? I’ve barely even touched you, sweetie,” you teased, your other hand stroking his hair.

“‘m gonna burn the dinner, b-AH-baby!” He squeaked as you squeezed the base of his cock.

“Then pay attention,” you directed, your thumb sliding over his slit.

Lucifer’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, pleasure flowing through his veins. “P-please! Oh, darling, please! I-I wanna stop c-UGH-cooking! Oh, GOD!” He whined, bucking into your hand over and over, the friction about to send him over the edge.

“Go ahead, Luce. Cum all over my hand like a good boy, yeah?” You smirked, pressing more and more kisses to his cheek.

As soon as Lucifer heard your words, a scream ripped through his throat. White spurts of cum squirted from his cock, coating the inside of his pants. His face was contorted in pleasure, eyes shut tight, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open with small, whimpering sounds pouring from it. When he came down from his high, he looked up at you. “Thanks,” he whispered, standing on his tip-toes so that he could kiss your neck. “I-I needed that.”

You giggled. “Yeah, I’ll bet you did. Now, is dinner ready? I don’t know about you, but I am just starving!”

Lucifer laughed. “Fuck, I love you,” he smiled.

“I love you, too.”

————————

[spencerreidswhore187]

Statistically Speaking

Summary: One drunken night, whilst undercover in Vegas, you and your least favourite colleague, Spencer Reid, accidentally get married. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x g!n Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

T/W: Mentions of alcohol and guns

——————————

The neon lights of Las Vegas blurred as the night unfolded. Undercover on a high-stakes case, you and Spencer Reid—your arch-nemesis—found yourselves thrown into the midst of the city's wild energy. For some unknown reason, the two of you had never got on. You were always fighting, arguing and trying to sabotage the other. Well, unknown to Spencer. You only hated him because he made it clear how much he didn't like you from day one - not that you’d ever admit it. 

The team had sent you to a casino, undercover as a couple, trying to get a lead on an arms dealer. Instead, you ended up drowning your frustrations and differences in drinks. The night was a whirlwind of laughter, shared secrets, and surprisingly genuine moments. The alcohol flowed freely, clouding your judgment. Before you knew it, you were stumbling back to your hotel room in the early hours of the morning.

Waking up with a pounding headache and a hazy memory, you groggily opened your eyes to find Spencer lying beside you.

“What-”

A flicker of panic surged through you as you noticed a glint on your finger. You held up your hand, squinting at the unexpected sight of a ring.

The band was adorned with small, twinkling crystals that encircled a modest yet sparkling diamond like a constellation.

"What the hell happened last night?" you muttered to yourself. The memories were fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle waiting to be put together.

Spencer stirred beside you, rubbing his temples and blinking against the harsh light. His eyes widened as he slowly processed where the is and the ring on your finger. A moment of stunned silence passed between both of you before he spoke, his voice a mix of confusion and realisation.

"Did we... get married?”

As the weight of Spencer's words hung in the air, you exchanged bewildered glances, both attempting to unravel the mystery of the events that transpired the night before.

"I can't believe this," Spencer mumbled, his voice a mix of disbelief and mild panic. "We were undercover, trying to gather intel on that arms dealer. How did we end up married?”

Pieces of the previous night's escapade start to slowly come together in your mind. Flashes of laughter, clinking glasses, and a hasty decision made in the heat of the moment flood your memory. The realisation hit you both simultaneously, and a burst of nervous laughter escaped your lips.

"We might have, uh, taken the whole 'cover' thing a bit too far," you admit, a sheepish smile forming on your face.

Spencer runs a hand through his tousled hair. "This is... unexpected.”

The sound of urgent footsteps outside the hotel room door interrupted your awkward exchange. Both of you tensed.

"We need to figure out how to handle this," Spencer whispered to you. "But for now, let's focus on the mission. We can deal with the aftermath later.”

As Spencer finished his sentence, a knock echoed through the room. You exchanged a quick, determined glance before Spencer moved to answer the door.

It's the team - Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, Garcia and JJ - ready to discuss the next steps in your undercover operation. Your mind races as you Spencer opens the door.

The team filed into the hotel room. Hotch surveyed the room with his usual intensity, immediately honing in on you and Spencer sitting side by side at the table near the bed. There's a momentary pause, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that doesn't go unnoticed. They know, you realised.

"Reid, Y/N, any new developments?" Hotch asked, his gaze lingering just a fraction longer than usual.

You and Spencer exchange a quick, almost imperceptible glance. Spencer, ever the master of composure, began discussing your latest findings and the potential leads in the case. The team, however, seemed more interested in the unusual dynamic in the room, enjoying the peace and quiet from your constant bickering. Morgan shot a knowing smirk at Rossi, and Prentiss raised an eyebrow, her perceptive gaze fixed on the two of you.

Garcia couldn’t help but interject with her trademark enthusiasm. "Lovebirds, got any post-mission plans? Maybe a little honeymoon action in the city of sin?”

Your cheeks flushed, and Spencer raised an eyebrow at Garcia's comment. The team's reactions ranged from amusement to curiosity. They exchanged glances, clearly aware something had happened between the two of you.

"Let's stay on track,” Hotch commanded. “Y/N, Reid, ensure you're maintaining cover without any compromises. We can address any personal matters once the case is closed.”

The case at hand revolved around an elusive arms dealer known for supplying weapons to various criminal organisations. The BAU had been tracking a series of illegal arms transactions across the country, all leading back to a shadowy figure with connections to international criminal networks.

The latest lead pointed to Las Vegas as the epicentre of the dealer's operations. The city's bustling nightlife, intricate web of contacts, and numerous potential buyers made it the perfect hub for illicit activities. The team suspected that the arms dealer was planning a significant deal that could have far-reaching consequences, possibly involving a dangerous new weapon on the market.

Your role, alongside Spencer, was to gather intel, getting as close to the operation as possible by posing as a couple interested in the arms trade. 

“We have reason to believe the unsub will be dining at the Aurelia Elegante tonight,” said Prentiss.

“Garcia, can you get a booking there for tonight?” Asked Hotch. 

Penelope tapped away on her laptop, giving the team a thumbs up after a few seconds.

“Y/N and Reid, you will both have earpieces and we’ll be waiting in the van around back. Do your best to blend it, do your best to interact with him without raising suspicion. Does everyone understand?” 

The team nodded. As the door closed, leaving you and Spencer alone again, the weight of the situation settled in.

——————————

"You know," Spencer started adjusting his tie as you walked towards the entrance of the restaurant, "I never thought I'd have the pleasure of going on a fake date with my sworn enemy.”

"Enemy? Really, Reid? Isn't that a bit dramatic?" you retorted, rolling your eyes.

Spencer smirked, his eyes gleaming. "Just trying to keep things interesting. But don't worry, I'll make sure our marriage is the talk of the town.”

"Let's focus on the mission, shall we?" you replied, masking a smile. "And for the record, we’re arch-nemeses.”

He chuckled, a hint of amusement softening his usual seriousness. "We'll see about that.”

"You know, for someone who claims to have an IQ of 187, you're surprisingly lacking in social skills," you quipped, your eyes narrowing at Spencer.

He shot back with a sardonic grin. "Well, I'd rather be lacking in social skills than tact, Y/N.”

“Wow. You’re hilarious,” you deadpanned. 

As you entered the restaurant, the conversation subsided. The team's instructions echoed in your earpieces, guiding you toward the unsub’s location.

Once seated, Spencer leaned in, his eyes glinting mischievously. "So, how do you think our fake dating story should go? High school sweethearts reunited by fate? A spontaneous, drunken wedding in Vegas?”

You scoffed, playing along. "More like sworn enemies forced into a twisted partnership."

His lips curled into a wry smile. “Ah, the classic love story.”

The waiter handed you both menus, and you shifted your focus to the task at hand. As you scanned the room, you caught sight of a figure entering the restaurant—a man whose demeanour exuded confidence and authority. You had spent endless nights awake researching the arms dealer and there was no mistaking that this was him.

Spencer discreetly nudged you, his eyes flicking toward the approaching figure. "Looks like our guest of honour just arrived.”

The arms dealer, known by the alias "Black Serpent," made his way through the restaurant, exchanging nods with select individuals. His presence commanded attention.

Maintaining your cover, you and Spencer continued your conversation, occasionally glancing in the unsubs direction. The challenge now was to find an opportune moment to engage him in a way that wouldn't raise suspicion.

As the evening unfolded, the tension in the air grew. The arms dealer seemed engrossed in discussions with his date, making it difficult to approach him discreetly. The team, monitoring the situation from a distance, communicated updates through your earpieces.

Finally, as dessert arrived, the unsub stood from his table.

There was a shared moment of silent understanding between you and Spencer. The team's voices hummed discreetly in your earpieces. 

Hotch’s urgency pierced through the calm facade.

"Stay calm. We need to keep him here," Hotch advised.

Spencer, despite his usual composed demeanour, couldn’t hide the flicker of concern in his eyes.

The menus in your hands suddenly felt heavier, the challenge of keeping him engaged without raising suspicion became more critical with each passing second. 

Hotch's voice broke through the static.

"You need to distract him. Find a way to keep him here," Hotch instructed, urgency lacing his words.

In a moment of panic, you discreetly slipped the ring off your finger and passed it to Spencer. He caught on instantly and, with a deft move, took the ring into his hand.

As the arms dealer starts to leave, Spencer seizes the opportunity, his face lighting up with a mix of charm and faux sincerity.

“Y/N, I have been waiting months to do this," Spencer said, dropping to one knee and holding out the engagement ring.

You play along, feigning shock and delight, covering your mouth with shaking hands.

A ripple of surprise moved through the surrounding tables as patrons shifted their attention to you and Spencer. Even the unsub paused, watching curiously to see how this turned out.

"Remember that time in Chicago when we stumbled upon that bookstore trying to get out of the rain? It didn’t matter that you were drenched, you were entranced by the old books. I watched you drag your finger across their old spines as you hummed to yourself. There was a small, beautiful smile on your face as if someone had told a joke only you were privy to. At that moment, I knew there was something truly special about you," Spencer continues, his eyes locked onto yours.

You had been on a case a year or two ago when that happened; you didn’t think that Spencer had remembered. 

The surrounding tables become hushed as Spencer continued. 

"I've witnessed you at your best and your worst, Y/N. Through it all, I have been nothing but enamoured by you. I-I love you, I always have. Even during our occasional bickering," he added, a playful smile playing on his lips. “Will you do me the honour of being my wife?” 

"Yes," you responded, the word escaping your lips with a hint of genuine emotion. Momentarily, you forgot this was all fake, an act, a performance. Momentarily, you forgot that you and Spencer were not the only people in the room.

The boundaries between reality and the undercover performance started to blur, and a haze of uncertainty clouded your thoughts. In that split second, you had to keep reminding yourself that this was a charade. The charm in Spencer's eyes feels genuine, and for a heartbeat, you entertain the notion that he truly, truly loved you.

But then, reality came crashing down.

 The earpiece buzzed with updates from the team, snapping you out of the fleeting illusion. You remembered the undercover mission, the arms dealer, and the necessity of the proposal diversion.

Amidst the applause and cheers from the surrounding tables, you play your part, feigning surprise and joy as Spencer slips the ring onto your finger.

Distracted, you watch the unsub start moving towards the exit. Spencer dropped several notes on the table and grabbed your hand as you two rushed off to follow him.

You and Spencer navigated the alleyway. There, at the end, the unsub had started a deal in a shadowy corner, several metres away from you. 

Spencer pulled you close against him so you could discretely observe, waiting for the right moment to take him down. 

You were still rattled by Spencer's words, his unexpected description of that rainy day in Chicago. There was this weird feeling in your stomach. You were shocked annoyed and irritated that you had been lost in the act. But the most confusing thing was that Spencer had not yet let go of your hand. 

"That was quite the performance, boy genius. Didn't know you had it in you," you whispered, a teasing glint in your eyes.

Spencer smirked, "Well, necessity and whatnot, Y/N. And you played your part quite convincingly too.”

But the arms dealer must have heard you as he cocked his gun, aiming it towards you as he shouted “Who’s there?”

Spencer didn’t miss a beat; he grabbed your face, pressing his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate, the kiss was unexpected but you knew what he was doing - keeping up appearances.

The kiss started tentatively but soon your movements became frantic and desperate. As the seconds pass, you couldn’t help but feel a strange connection, a hint of something beyond the act.

Real or not, if you knew he was this good a kisser, you would have married him much earlier. 

Spencer's hand, warm and steady, found its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer. The dampness of the alley beneath your feet and the impending chaos seemed inconsequential at this moment.

As you pulled away, you dropped Spencer’s hand. Putting on a sweet, fake smile you walked towards the unsub. 

“Ohmygosh I’m so sorry,” you gushed. “This is so so embarrassing! I thought we were alone out here, oh gosh.” You walked towards the unsub who seemed momentarily taken aback. 

“We just got engaged, you see!” You explained, gesturing at Spencer who hesitantly hovered behind you. 

“Congratulations,” said the man hesitantly. As he spoke, you widened your eyes, discretely trying to indicate what you were planning to Spencer. He seemed to understand. 

“Show him the ring, babe,” Spencer said.  

Excitedly, you raised your hand to show the unsub the ring. You had to admit, although it pained you, Spencer had good taste. 

As the unsub leaned in for a closer look, you seized the opportunity. In a swift motion, you grabbed his wrists, pinning his arms behind his back as you spun him around and handcuffed him. 

You read the dealer his rights as Spencer chased after the figure he was selling to. 

——————————

After the successful arrest of the arms dealer, the team dispersed. You offered a quick "goodnight" to your colleagues. You hoped Spencer, ever observant, didn’t notice the subtle tension in your demeanour. As you made your way to your room, a flood of conflicting emotions overwhelmed you.

Entering the quiet solitude of your room, you couldn’t shake the residual confusion from the case. The success of the operation was overshadowed by the unexpected array of emotions you had started to feel. Especially the lingering disappointment that none of it was real. 

As you prepared for a restless night, a knock interrupted your thoughts. You opened the door to find Spencer standing there, an uncharacteristic nervousness in his demeanour. "Can I come in?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

You open the door wider, letting him enter. The atmosphere in the room was charged with an unusual tension. "Um-" you begin, but Spencer speaks at the same time, “So-“

The simultaneous interruption elicited a brief, nervous chuckle from both of you, breaking the ice just a fraction. Spencer took a step forward, his eyes searching yours for a clue about what's on your mind.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before speaking, "I noticed something was bothering you back there. Are you okay?”

You glanced at him, conflicted emotions swirling beneath the surface. "It's just been a long day, Spencer. Successful mission, but there were some…unexpected moments.”

He nods, seemingly understanding, but the tension between you remained palpable. An awkward silence descended, unusual for two individuals whose interactions usually consisted of insults and jibes.

"You know," he started, his voice softer than usual, "we make a good team when we put our differences aside.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the unexpected sincerity in his words. "Are you saying you enjoyed our date tonight?”

Spencer smirked, a hint of humour playing on his lips. "It was surprisingly effective, and you played your part convincingly.”

The tension eased a bit. ”Well, don't get used to it. This doesn't mean I like you," you retort, but there's a subtle twinkle in your eye.

Spencer chuckled, the atmosphere shifted from awkward to slightly more relaxed. "Fair enough. But seriously, if something's bothering you, you can talk to me. We're a team, after all.”

You hesitate for a moment, the conflicting emotions from the undercover mission and the unusual connection with Spencer weighing on you. "It's just... tonight felt so real. And... um, we were drunk and got married in Vegas? I’ve not really processed that yet.”

Spencer's expression shifted, a flicker of realisation in his eyes. “We’ve been so busy with the case we haven’t discussed it yet. Do you remember much?”

It all started coming back to you then: the laughter that echoed as you and Spencer stumbled into a chapel, impulsively deciding to partake in a makeshift wedding ceremony.

The Elvis impersonator, a short figure in a bedazzled jumpsuit, was the officiator. Grinning as you and Spencer, caught in the whirlwind of a drunken escapade, prepared to exchange vows.

Spencer's usually reserved demeanour seemed to dissolve in the face of the unexpected festivities. His eyes, usually focused, held a glint of unbridled amusement. The corners of his lips curled into a rare and somewhat goofy smile as he faced you.

The Elvis impersonator, with a theatrical flourish, prompted Spencer to begin his improvised vows. Spencer, swaying slightly on his feet, cleared his throat, a nervous playing on his lips.

“Uh, Y/N, where do I begin?” Spencer began, his words punctuated by the occasional glance towards the glittering jumpsuit-clad officiator. “I, um, I suppose I've never been good at expressing, you know, feelings. But, well, here we are, in this... unique situation.”

The crowd of tipsy onlookers erupted in laughter. Spencer’s gaze locked onto yours with a strange sincerity in his eyes.

“I've spent pretty much my entire life analysing statistics, probabilities, and patterns," he continued. “But, Y/N, you're the most unexpected, unpredictable variable I've ever encountered. And, um, that's strangely…fascinating.”

A ripple of laughter and cheers echoed through the chapel. 

As the officiator prompted you to exchange rings, Spencer fumbled with the small band, his usually nimble fingers betraying his drunkenness. 

It was your turn for vows. You took a deep breath, locking eyes with Spencer, and slurred, “Spencer, Spence, we might be, like, a weird match, and usually, you're my, uh, adversary - especially when we're both sober. But, in this super strange moment... what's the word? There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Yeah, here, with you.”

Laughter erupted again, and Spencer's eyes met yours with a mix of surprise and genuine delight

“You're the anomaly in my carefully calculated world, Spencer," you continued, a playful and gentle smile gracing your lips. "So, here's to embracing the unexpected, facing the unknown, and, well, defying the odds.”

With a theatrical flair, the officiator declared you “partners in crime” and, to the cheers of the onlookers, pronounced you “sort of, kind of, legally bound by the power vested in a tipsy Elvis impersonator.”

As the laughter echoed through the chapel, you and Spencer, gently swaying together in an attempt to stay upright, sealed the moment with a brief peck on the lips. 

Spencer’s nervous chuckle brings you back to the present. 

"Well, at least our drunken alter egos know how to keep things interesting," he remarked, a nervous smile playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Who would've thought.”

Both of you settled onto the end of the bed, the reality of the situation sinking in.

"So, technically, we're married," you said, a wry smile on your face.

Spencer nods, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "In the eyes of an Elvis impersonator, at least. I don't think that holds up in court, though.”

The laughter continued, a strange sense of camaraderie emerging. The usual jabs and insults were replaced by a more genuine exchange as if the bizarre circumstances of the last 24 hours had lifted a veil.

“It's just surreal, you know? One moment we're at each other's throats, and the next, “ you paused to do air quotes, “we're legally bound by the whims of a very tipsy Elvis.”

Spencer leant back, mirroring your contemplative expression. "Life has a way of throwing curveballs, especially in our line of work. I never would've predicted this turn of events, but here we are.”

The room was filled with a sense of shared understanding and, for a moment, the complexities of your lives seemed distant. It was just Spencer and you. 

The laughter and banter gradually faded, leaving a moment of quiet introspection as you and Spencer sat side by side on the edge of the bed.

As the silence stretched, Spencer took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the room. The air was thick with anticipation as he finally spoke.

"Hey, so, um, I know our dynamic is... unconventional and I've been terrible at expressing it. But you know, statistically speaking, couples that bicker a lot actually tend to have a longer-lasting relationship. It's this paradox of communication and—"

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and you turned to face him, cutting off his rambling. "Spence, are you trying to tell me something here?"

He stumbled over his words for a moment before taking another deep breath. "Yes, exactly. I mean, not about the statistics. Well, yes, about the statistics, but also about us. I've liked you, like, romantically liked you, and statistically—"

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at the endearing awkwardness of Spencer's attempt to express his feelings. "Spencer, you don't need statistics to tell me that. I get it."

His eyes widened, a mix of relief and surprise. "Oh, good. I was worried I might have overwhelmed you with the statistical details. You know, statistically, most love confessions—"

You decided to cut off his statistical analysis in the most effective way possible. With a sly grin, you grabbed Spencer's tie and pulled him towards you, closing the gap between you. His eyes widened in surprise, but there was a hint of curiosity in them.

The kiss starts tentatively, Spencer, initially stunned by your bold move, quickly caught on. His lips were softer than you remembered, different to when you had kissed in the alley - real. 

There was a moment of hesitation, a silent question hanging in the air—do you want this as much as he does? Your response was an enthusiastic one; the kiss deepened.

Spencer’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, a gentle yet firm grip that pulls you closer. Your own hands navigate the planes of his shoulders, the fabric of his tie feeling smooth against your fingertips.

As you pull away, there's a shared moment of breathlessness between you two.

“We have one more night in Vegas, maybe I could show you around.”

The simplicity of his suggestion caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but smile. The idea of Spencer Reid nervously asking you out is endearing in its own right.

"Are you asking me on a date, Spencer?" you teased.

He nodded, a hint of a smile breaking through his usually serious demeanour. "Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, technically, we're already married," he adds, a chuckle escaping him.

You laughed at the irony of the situation. “True…we did have that spontaneous Vegas wedding. But yes, I'd love to go on a date with you.”

"Great. I'll, uh, figure something out. Something... not statistically likely to go wrong.” Spencer said. 

Mustering the confidence to ask, you turned to him. "Did you mean what you said in the restaurant...about Chicago?"

"I meant every word." Spencer's eyes never leave yours. 

"I thought we were rivals, arch-nemeses, sworn enemies? I thought you hated me"

"I hated the way you made me feel, I've not been able to stop thinking about you since you first walked through the doors of the BAU."

You smiled.

“So Reid, what’s the statistical probability that Hollywood will turn our story into a full-blown romantic comedy?” you quipped, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Well, if we factor in our unpredictability and the inherent chaos of our lives, it's safe to say we're defying statistical norms.”

You laughed, "So, what's our romantic comedy title then? 'Undercover Hearts' or 'Marriage by Probability'?"

Spencer paused, considering the options. "I'd go with 'Mathematical Mismatch.' It has a certain statistical ring to it."

You playfully nudged him, "Well, as long as it's not 'Statistically Ever After,' we should be fine."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, "Are you implying our story won't have a fairy-tale ending?"

You smirked, "Oh, I'm sure it will be a uniquely chaotic and statistically improbable ending, just the way we like it."

——————————

A/N: Thank you for reading ◡̈

[teyamsgrl]

the great destresser ✧ neteyam

❗️MDNI ❗️

HI HI HI. I LOVE NETEYAM. AND I LOVE NETEYAM EATING PUSSY. I ALSO LOVE THE THOUGHT OF NETEYAM EATING PUSSY AS A DESTRESSER. GOODNIGHT.

°˖➴ warnings: fem omatikaya reader, agedup!neteyam, kinda sub!neteyam, stressed teyam, oral f receiving aka NETEYAM THE MUNCH PT 2, face sitting/riding - yawne: beloved

as future olo'eyktan and current mighty warrior, neteyam had a lot on his plate constantly. he was always doing something or had someone relying on him. sometimes he felt like he didn't have a chance to breathe. his responsibilities were an ebb and flow, having months where his downtime was at a peak, but lately this was not the case. neteyam was all over the place. neteyam had barely spoken to you the past few days, coming into your shared tent late, scarfing down the dinner you set for him and falling asleep just to do it all over again tomorrow. you had begun staying awake until he came home, knowing that he arrived home safely being a comforting thought. you were also staying awake to make sure you could ask about his day and how he was, it was the least you could do as his mate. he always felt guilty when he came home and saw you leaning against the wall trying to stop your eyelids from shutting for more than a blink. he felt as though he was neglecting you, despite you reassuring him that you understood his duties and level of importance in the clan. you loved him unconditionally, and he felt beyond lucky. he couldn't wait for this period of intense training to come to a slow.

today in particular, neteyam was stressed. his neck was sore from how he slept and he was honestly just in a sour mood. all that was on his mind was you. he could hardly focus, which resulted in fingers snapping in front of his face as he shook himself from his looming thoughts. "son- where are you today?" his father tsks, awaiting an explanation. "sorry sir, just feeling a bit off..." he trails off, picking up his bow from its place on the ground. "well shake it off, now" neteyam sighs and balls his hands up into fists, annoyance spreading through his body. he wanted out. today was not his day.

you are sitting on the woven mat in yours and neteyam's tent, mixing together some herbs for a salve when you suddenly heard the rustling of someone outside, neteyam appearing inside just seconds later. "ma'teyam, you're home a bit early" you smile, moving your project to the side and patting the spot beside you. he flops down beside you, slight scowl on his face. "what is it, yawne?" you cup his cheek, staring lovingly into his eyes. "my dad just doesn't fucking get it... i'm so fucking stressed and he just tells me to get over it, like it's that easy" he grumbles, moving to place his head on your soft thighs. you run your hands through his braids, "i'm sorry nete, he isn't being very understanding. you've been working so hard these past few days, possibly even beyond your limit.." you watch as he begins to kiss along your thighs, causing a hum to make its way out of your mouth. he shuffles a bit, adjusting his position in order to be able to reach your inner thighs with his lips. you hum some more, twirling a braid in your finger. "is there anything i can do to help? make you some food or re-braid your hair-" he shakes his head, sitting back up to be face to face.

"honestly... what i need right now is you on my face” his sentence comes out in a slight whimper, almost begging to release his stress onto you through his tongue. you bite your lip, breathing picking up. you kiss him deeply, hands trailing down his arms. he whines into the kiss and moves his hands to your hips, removing your loincloth. you sigh at the feeling of the cool evening air hitting your pussy, pulling away from the kiss. "lie down, yawne" you whisper, smiling at his devoted look. he lies on his back, hands reaching for your hips once his back hits the ground. you straddle his face, pussy hovering over his mouth that is almost drooling with desire. "ready?" you make eye contact with him, seeing lust and desperation cloud his amber eyes. he nods, hands fixed on your ass and pulling you down to meet his mouth. "shit- neteyam" you moan, hands moving to entangle in his braids. he hums satisfied as he finally tastes your sweetness, hands squeezing at your ass. his first move is to your clit, tongue flicking over it to elicit gasps from you. he flicks it some more before sucking it into his mouth, knowing exactly how you like it. your gasps are almost continuous, gentle tugging on his braids also present. he sucks a bit harder, his eyes rolling out of satisfaction. he genuinely loved eating you out, it made him hard within seconds. he pulls it out of his mouth with a pop, looking up to check on you. your mouth is agape, staring back down at him.

“fuck you’re beautiful” he states before diving back in, tongue soaking up your wetness and prodding at your hole. “oh eywa- yesssss..” you whine as his tongue switches between entering your hole and licking all around it, nose nudging your clit which is stimulating it simultaneously. he taps your ass to get you to look down at him. he pulls away slightly, sticking his tongue out. he wants you to ride it. you instantly drop back down on it, grip on his braids increasing as you begin grinding down onto his tongue, clit pulsating with every movement. “oh- you’re so good teyam, you make me feel so good” you praise him, hips moving at a quick pace. he helps guide you along his tongue with his hands that have settled on your ass. your moans get louder, the rhythm of your hips become more sloppy. neteyam knew this meant you were close, so he moved his tongue more frantically and brought one hand to circle your clit. you start to breathe heavier, toes curling as your orgasm begins to rip through you. “oh neteyam!!!” you squeal, body shaking above him as your cum drips onto his tongue. he smiles, licking you up. you slouch once you catch your breath, exhausted from the amazing head and orgasm.

he helps lift your legs off of his head and he sits behind you, pulling you in to lean against him. you immediately relax from the warmth of his chest, grabbing his arms and wrapping them around you. "how was it, ma'y/n?" he kisses your cheek and rests his chin on your shoulder. "amazing, as it always is" you giggle, "do you feel better, yawne? bit more relaxed?" he nods and nuzzles into your neck. "definitely better, can't wait for a break. i miss my mate" you bring his large hands to your lips and kiss them softly, basking in this moment that has been awaited for days.

[elliesflower]

heyyy 😏 i wanted to come here and just say that i feel like ellie is the type to ask you about how your day went while slowly rubbing your clit. if you stutter or even just whine, she will sternly tell you to continue with what you were saying or else, she'll stop playing with your princess parts and leave you unsatisfied 🧍🏻‍♀️ that is all.

ohhhhh yes absolutely she would!!!! and i’d like to think she’d be a little sweet about it, too (bc i’m self indulgent, always)

after an especially stressful day at work, you’d come home practically in tears, straight into ellie’s strong arms, and she’d immediately be all over you—hands rubbing up and down your back, her lips pressing against your forehead, her breath tickling your ear as she spoke against the side of your head, “wassa’ matter? talk to me, angel.”

but you couldn’t, just feeling silly as you cried into her chest. but ellie wouldn’t have that, no—she’d get you right where she wants you, she needs to get into that pretty little head of yours the best way she knows how.

so that’s how you’d end up in her gaming chair, head thrown back against the little pillow as she kneeled in front of you, her thumb languidly rolling circles around your clit as you struggled to get out a coherent sentence.

“c’mon baby, lemme in that head of yours,” she’d coo, and it would only make it harder to focus on what she was asking. “i’ll make it all better, you know i will…”

and she did, oh she did—one finger slipping through your slick folds to tease at your entrance before pulling away abruptly. and you’d whine, your head snapping to meet her gaze where she looked up at you, the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead beautifully illuminated by the colored led lights in the room.

“please ellie!” you’d cry, your thighs spreading pathetically farther, and you couldn’t stop to be embarrassed at the way your slick made a mess of the leather chair beneath your ass.

“tell me about your day, and you can have whatever you want, my love,” and it was so tender, and so so cruel, the tears instantly flowing again as your brain went absolutely dumb when she kissed the inside of your thigh teasingly. you couldn’t help but to babble, letting it all out, all the tears and frustration of customers yelling at you all day, accidentally dropping an entire tray of food for a table, and your manager being a douchebag…and of course ellie was back on you in an instant, her hands making their way up your supple thighs before they reached your sensitive core.

“there’s my good girl,” she’d praise, sliding two fingers into you with ease, now that you were all relaxed and sensitive for her. you cried out as she worked her fingers into your messy pussy, the chair creaking as you writhed about.

“my poor baby…you don’t have to worry ‘bout all that anymore, angel…i got you, you know i got you…”

and she did,

have all of you.

[mambalae-s]

sugar — geto suguru x reader

wc: 4.3k

cw: ceo! geto x employee! reader; unprotected sex; office sex; semi public sex; reader is described as a black woman; she’s not explicitly called chubby but she is described as plump; creampies; oral (reader) receiving; one instance of spitting; one instance of choking; mating press; a sir kink you dont have to squint too hard to find; not at all proof read; if i’m missing anything, please let me know!

notes from author: yeah, this went an entirely different direction than what i had planned… this is an nsfw post — if you’re under 18, PLEASE do not interact with this post. i will block you.

suguru’s certain you have no idea the kind of effect you have on him. he’s so entirely convinced that you’re oblivious to his struggle to merely contain himself with you sitting across his mahogany desk, dark stockings hugging your plump thighs and that short, a-lined skirt just barely sitting over your lap. you wear your hair like a regalia, beautiful, thinly done tresses of black braids half-tied at the back of your head where the rest flowed down each side of your body, the ends of them elegantly curling while you’d left two braids to frame both sides of your face — a style called french braids, he’d learned when he’d asked you curiously.

his mind is so far gone from words of acquisitions and business meetings that you read from your prepared document, eyes zoned in on your plump, full lips that glisten on strawberry flavoured gloss. he’s so distracted by the ‘o’s formed on your sweet voice, every sentence sinking themselves beneath his skin like drops of honey that rush through his veins and churns within his blood like a drug. he leans back into his chair, throwing his head back in unhidden frustration and releases a groan, and the sound of it snaps your attention from black printed words to look up at your ceo.

“sir?” you call him, hesitant. you cock your head to the side worriedly. “i’m sorry, is it not how you want to proceed?”

suguru shakes his head weakly, brushing his thumb over his lips. “no, no,” he assures you, “that’s not it at all. you’ve done great, in fact. it’s perfect.” he sees the way your brows furrow over your dark coloured eyes, the way your lips part on words you don’t let out, and suddenly, he feels too hot. “i’m sorry, ms. (l/n). it’s just especially hard for me to focus right now.”

“oh, i understand.” you utter, shifting to sit a little straighter in your chair. the action causes your breasts to shift beneath your low-cut blouse as you close your manilla folder. and suguru, he has to remind himself to breathe. “well, we do have some time before the board meeting if you’d rather we look over the details some other time?”

suguru hums in agreement as he stands, forcing his eyes off you and walking over to the left wall where he keeps a fine array of wines and expensive liquor. “yes, let’s do that then.” his hands reach for a bottle he knows you enjoy most out of his collection, an itallian imported masseto merlot. he reaches for two wine glasses and turns to you, offering you one to take. “how about we enjoy a drink for now?”

you rise from your seat to stand next to him, taking the cup from his hands. he wonders if you’d felt your fingers brush against his, if you’d perhaps done it intentionally to tease him. ah, but he knows you better than that — even now as you hold your cup out for him to fill, he knows that you’re far too shy to ever think of trying anything with him, your boss. you’re always the respectful and diligent worker, always and ever doing your best to meet his expectations and go beyond. he’d be lying if he tried to say he didn’t look forward to seeing you every day, or that he dreamt of doing unspeakable things to you right here inside his office. even standing this close to him, suguru feels his pants tighten at the uninhibited view he has of your plump figure, your breasts tempting him as he loses himself on your sweet scent of fresh linen and honey oats.

“is there something on your mind, sir?” unaware of the thoughts clouding his mind, you innocently flutter your eyes to peer up at him with your glossy lips pursed atop your glass. he watches you take a sip of the dark red liquid and thinks about it wetting your mouth, imagines the satisfied sigh as something far dirtier, unprofessional, and how you would sound with your legs folded against your chest. he imagines all the ways you’d cry out for him, to beg him for more until he turned you into a whiney mess.

“it’s just…” again, he clears his throat. he reaches one hand up to loosen his tie, showing off the expensive watch on his left wrist. “been a long week, that’s all.”

your lips form a sympathetic pout as you lower your glass to your chest, your forearms unconsciously squeezing your breasts together and, have mercy— how can you make the dirtiest things look so innocent? “i’m sorry, mr. geto,” you offer, “i’ll certainly try harder to make things a little easier for you… is there anything i can do for you?”

“oh, no, miss (l/n), you’ve already been such a great help to me—” he stops himself midway, his dark eyes turning thoughtful as he considers. the idea that pops into his head is an awful one, he gives himself second enough to consider. but, what is he supposed to do when you stand so close to him, eyes innocently looking up at him, your very breath hanging onto his words? here you are right in front of him, so open and willing to help him, and perhaps— no, not just. suguru’s certain you don’t mean your words in the way that he thinks, but the very sight of you, the thoughts he has of you late at night and even now, it overwhelms him and tells him to cast aside all logic and give in to viscous wanting.

suguru quietly draws a breath, sets his glass down atop his desk and bites the bullet.

“well… there is something you could do for me.” one, two, it only takes him three short steps until he’s standing right in front of you, close enough for the smell of your sweet, honey-scented oils to fully wrap around him and fill up his lungs. his figure basically shadows your much smaller frame, towering over you as your eyes nervously met his. he focuses on the way your brown lips hang open slightly, on the way your pretty eyebrows furrow over your expression. he focuses on the deep breaths you take that cause your chest to rise and swell, lets himself go on the slight squeak in your voice when you hesitantly call him.

“sir…?”

“what if, ms. (l/n),” suguru hums, reaching his hand to your own glass of wine, intentional when his fingers cover yours. “i told you that you’re what’s been distracting me all along?” like a hawk, he observes every flicker of thought that crosses your dark brown eyes. first, he watches them widen on surprise, then they waver back and forth before lowering to where he held your hand, the deep red colour of your merlot surely not what holds your attention. you’re flustered, he knows it by the way you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, but he’s not kind enough to let you hide that beautiful expression from him. slowly, as if not to scare you, he takes his fingers and holds on to your chin, tilting your head to where you had no choice but to meet his stare.

“i— i’m,” you pause, your lips trembling so deliciously, your breath ghosting against his skin like an autumn’s gentle breeze. “i’m not sure what you mean… mr, geto…”

“you aren’t?” suguru lowers his voice to a whisper. he imagines he could hear your heart thumping inside your chest, that he could feel your pulse racing underneath your skin, and he wants more of it, wants more of you. “let me show you exactly what i mean then, ms. (l/n).”

he tells himself to be gentle as he leans in, tilting your head up so that his lips meet yours finally, finally— and suguru nearly loses himself to the sensation of being swept off his feet. gods, you’re even sweeter than you’ve ever tasted inside his dreams, the living flesh and bone version of you kissing him back so softly as if you’d walked right out of his fantasies and come to find him at daylight. he can sense the hesitance behind your lips, an uncertainty weak to your own desires as you lean further into him. your hands reach for his chest and you pull away with a breathlessness, gasping as you look up at him, showing to him your worries, your fear, your mutual want.

“mr. geto, we shouldn’t do something like this here,” you whisper as if afraid your words would be heard by someone passing by. though suguru could tell that, if he pushed, you wouldn’t be able to resist. your fingers feebly grasp at his arms, bunching up the white fabric covering his biceps and, oh— you pull him closer, yet not close enough to close the gap. he looks at you and sees it then, in the way your lips pout up at him, that—

“you want this too, don’t you?”

he touches a hand to your cheek and feels heat radiating from you in waves. pulling you closer, he brings that hand to cup the back of your neck and revel in the feel of you being so close to him, your chest so soft against his as his other hand falls to squeeze your hip. gently, he tilts your head to one side to expose your neck and he lets himself be greedy, leaning to drag his nose against your bare skin, lips just slightly parted so that you could feel his warm breath ghosting against your cheek.

your knees nearly buckle beneath your weight and you have to squeeze on to his biceps even tighter, for fear that you would collapse if you don’t hold on tight. “y-yes…” you quietly gasp once he finally presses his lips to your skin. the feeling of him harshly sucking your neck is enough to cause your head to spin, for your legs to clench together at the new heat that pools in your panties. you feel him begin to press forward, and as you step back, he chases you, pushing you until the back of your thighs hit his desk. the sensation of cold wood is stark against the waves of searing heat that pours from the both of you and you stumble for a moment, accidentally knocking his pristine ceo plaque to the red carpet below.

“then,” suguru’s voice sounds slurred. his words are heavy and he sees the way they weigh you down as his fingers skillfully pull the first buttons of your blouse. he takes in the picture of you with reverence and worship as greed swirls within his gut, tightens his pants and makes him forget anything that didn’t have to do with you. with one hand, he pushes you further until you’re sitting on top of his desk and leans in once more, ever more wanting to feel your lips on his. “don’t think about anything else right now. just focus on me, yeah?”

dazed, it’s all you can do to nod ‘yes’ as he slots himself between your open legs, his hands squeezing down on your hips and pulling you forward until his bulge presses right up against your core.

it’s hard hold himself back any further, and suguru abandons his inhibitions as he hungrily slots his mouth against yours, the kiss almost universes different than the last. where before, he’d been experimental, testing the waters almost and tasting you for the first time, he now devours your very soul like a man starved of water and you, his fountain found in a scorching desert. his lips are searing as they move, and he pours so much into you that it becomes too much and it burns so deliciously, filling you until whimpers slip out from you and your hands hungrily pull apart his buttons. his nails dig into your thighs as he bites down on your bottom lip and pulls before he begins to press kisses against your cheek, trailing wet, impatient lines of spit along your jaw.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this,” its almost a growl when he speaks, low and dangerous as he feels himself slipping further. his teeth sink into your dark skin and he sucks, hard, relishing in the moans that you reward him with. “how badly i wanted to have you till i couldn’t sleep at night.”

“s-sir wait,” you try to call him, struggling to find your words amidst the fog clouding your brain. he’s sucking your skin so much that you fear he’ll leave marks, yet your voice seems to only urge him to leave more. “not there, people will see— ngh!”

he doesn’t pull apart when he grinds his bulge against you, letting you feel just how big and hard he’d gotten for you. each move he makes sends you reeling, the pool between your legs enough to soak you right through your stockings as he rolls his hips into yours.

“focus,” suguru reprimands you, lowly growling into your neck. “all your attention on me right now. do you understand?”

when you take too long to respond, he pushes one hand around your neck and squeezes, causing you to squeal as he pulls your head back to face him. your mouth hangs open, gasps of air struggling to make it past his hands, his spit smeared all across your lips, cheek and neck with the beginnings of purple bite marks forming on your dark skin — you’re the perfect picture of a mess, your beautiful brown eyes glazed over by lust and desire, so far gone from your normally neat and put together appearance, and it’s all because of him.

“understand?” he bleeds the word slowly, and, feeble, you respond with a desperate nod of your head, barely managing to force out a ‘yes sir..!’ through his grip around your throat. you try to squeeze your legs around his waist, wanting to pull him closer, to feel his cock pressed against you once more, for any kind of friction, but one hand swiftly pries them wide apart as his fingers snake between them. startled, you try to squeeze them close, though your body quickly loses its strength when his slender digits press up against your dampened core.

god, you’re already so fucking wet, you’re dripping enough to leave dark coloured stains atop his wooden desk. suguru marvels at the feeling of your slick practically pooling along his fingers, coating them as he rubs slow, teasing circles over your clothed pussy. “look at that,” he says breathlessly before pulling his hands away to lick at them, and the taste of your essence causes his cock to twitch against their restraints. popping his fingers out of his mouth, he shoves them past your gaping lips for you to swirl your tongue around, a groan escapes him once you begin to suck and whimper around them. “fuck, (y/n), you’re making it hard for me to control myself.”

his thumb brushes against your lip and he pulls your mouth open, dizzy when you eagerly open your mouth for him to spit into. “such a dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?” he grins as you swallow with a moan, “yeah? never dreamed i’d see you do something like this, ms. (l/n). were you thinking about something like this everytime we spoke? hm?”

a sharp ripping sound startles you, though you hardly have the chance to regain your bearings as suguru finally touches you in the place you need him the most. your pussylips are basically sopping and so, incredibly swollen, your clit so eager for him to touch you when he presses his thumb against it. “f-fuck…!” you throw your head back, hissing and biting your bottom lip to contain your cries, all while suguru marvels at seeing you unravel. you’re completely under his control like this, a pretty little doll in the palm of his hands that he could toy and play with until your mind would crumble. the revelation blazes through him like a wildfire and swirls like a ferocious torrent — more, he wants — needs — you to break even more.

“i want an answer, (y/n). how badly did you want me to fuck you all this time?”

you try to respond, though your words fall apart on a weak, wavering cry of his name as he sinks two fingers inside you, feeling them split apart your walls before pulling back out slowly. he uses his knees to keep your legs from clamping shut while his free hand slips your bra up over your chest, letting your full mounds fall freely for him to squeeze. large, brown nipples perk up under the exposure of the cold air, pointy and sensitive beneath his thumb when he pinches one and softly twists. he groans, nearly panting, your pussy clamping down around his middle and ring fingers. “you’re so fucking tight, you’re just leaking and making such a mess. must’ve been waiting for me to fuck this pretty little cunt, huh?”

“nngh, sir..!” oh, those pretty little cries you make would be the end of him. he wants more, wants you to fall apart utterly and completely until your mind would be blank and you would be nothing but a blabbering mess. he wants to feel you, taste you, to devour you whole.

swiftly, he drops down to his knees and spread your legs wide open, one on each of his shoulder for him to see your messy cunt. he’s mesmerized at the view of you, sopping and dripping as your hole squelches around nothing, greedily begging for him to take it and make it his.

above him, you’re barely able to register his movements before you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth hungrily sucking your pussy, and it catches you so off guard that you release a loud cry of his name. “suguru…!”

“shhhh. shhh, baby,” the man doesn’t stop for even a second, muttering the words right up against you and sending shockwaves through your core. desperate to keep your voice down, you clamp your hands over your mouth as you feel his tongue flicker against your swollen clit, back and forth before he begins sucking and lapping. your essence pools all over his tongue and suguru feels himself getting drunk, diving his tongue between your folds while his fingers drill in and out of your hole, filling the large office with sloppy, slurpy noises as he coaxes ever single drop he can out of you.

despite you trying, you fail to hold your voice back as the coil within your gut tightens and your vision grows spotty. his fingers repeatedly brush against that spot deep inside your cunt that makes you see stars and you can’t catch your breath. your moans turn into strangled cries as your legs clench around his head, and you can’t pay any mind to how tightly you’re squeezing him between your plump thighs as you grip his hair to pull him closer. “aah..! aghn! nnngh..! fuck, sir, i’m close…!” your hips begin to buck as you chase your end, desperate for your climax as he groans between your legs and sets a relentless pace with his tongue and hands. he focuses his mouth on your clit while his fingers stretch and fuck your cunt and you taste like honey, pouring into his mouth as he laps it all up and milks you for everything you could give him.

“cum for me, princess.” his muffled voice shoots through your core like lightening, and you feel that coil in your gut reaching its height. you’re almost there, you’re so close, you’re so fucking close— “make a mess all over daddy’s face, come on. thaaaat’s it, baby, gimme all of it… don’t hold back and fucking squirt for me.”

he curls his fingers inside you, and the coil snaps like a bullet shot right through you. your orgasm crashes into your body as every muscle inside you seizes, your cries and whimpers unrestrained and nearly deafening. tremours reck through your figure as suguru coaxes everything out of you with sweet praises, till you squirt all over his face and fingers and you collapse against his desk, sending several important documents and utensils clattering against the carpet.

“shit…!” your eyes barely register suguru’s form hastily rushing to his feet, stumbling and lightheaded, his face and shirt absolutely drenched in your cum as his fingers unbuckle his belt. you see his cock spring out from his boxers when he pulls them down, and in your fucked out daze, you admire how pretty it looks. the pink tip smacks against his toned stomach, the length of it thick and twitching as he grips your thighs and he’s so fucking big. fuck, you start to panic, but your body’s far too weak for you to move quickly, barely able to lean up against your elbows while he folds your legs up against your chest — “wait, sir, not yet, i— haaah!”

your mind blanks, your vision shoots white as his cock bullies its way into your pussy, still sensitive from him eating you out before and a cry erupts out from your chest. above you, suguru’s expression contorts and he groans loudly as he sinks deeper into your cunt. your gummy walls clench down on him as if to keep him out, squeezing him so tightly that his knees nearly give out underneath him. “aaaahh, fuck, (y/n), your pussy feels so fucking good.”

he’s too impatient to give you time to adjust, you just feel so good clamping down on him the way you do and he pounds you, fucking into you relentlessly while you writhe and cry beneath him. “fuck!! sir—!! s-slow down— ahh! haah! ‘m still— still sensitive— ngaahh!”

“sorry, princess.” he huffs, folding your legs further down into your chest and pivoting his pelvis to reach inside you deeper, deeper until he pounds your cervix and you jolt as if you’d been shocked. you have to grab the edge of the desk to keep yourself from sliding from underneath him as he relentlessly fucks into you. “your pussy jus’ feels too good, fuck. ‘s like this pretty cunt was made jus’ for my cock.”

how perfect you look folded underneath him like this, breasts bouncing and tears pooling from your eyes as your body trembles and shakes from the overstimulation. how your hair messily flails underneath you, your clothes all bunched up and your stockings shredded and your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you senselessly wail, fuck, you look so damn hot. “i know you can take it princess,” he coons, stilling his hips as he pushes all the way inside you, pinning you down when you try to squirm. “c’mon, pretty girl…” slowly, he pulls out and slams back into you — once, twice, over and over, each time your walls tightening and squeezing ravenously. “you got this. you’re doing so good for me, soooo so good. you like how my cock feels inside baby? does it feel good fucking up your pretty little pussy?”

“yes…!” with teary eyes, you look up at him, your response short of senseless and incomprehensible as you choke out a sob through your pleasure. “yes, yes, yes, yes, sir, feels so fucking good!”

“shhh, shhh, i know baby,” suguru coos down at you, grinding slow, sweet circles against your core before picking up his pace. the sudden change catches you unprepared and you shout, hands flailing to his biceps and clawing into his skin as he caged your body beneath him. “you’ve been so good for me already, aah, can you gimme one more? cum one more time for me pretty baby, jus’ one more for me.”

as if at his command, you feel that familiar tension take hold of your body as he drills into your cunt, so sudden and without warning as it crashes over you. you squeal, babbling his name over and over as your pussy creams all over his cock, your gasps drawing little air as your orgasm tears through you and leaving you breathless.

“thaaaaat’s it, shit. just like that.” he praises you through stuttering breaths, cooing at you sweetly as you come dkw. from your high. you’re positively fucked out of your mind with tears falling freely from your eyes and drool smearing your cheeks, snd the sight of you like this beneath him, the feeling of your pussy milking around his cock, it’s enough to send him over the edge.

“fuck…!”

his body twitches as his cum spurts inside your pussy, warm and thick and so, so much of it comes out, painting your insides white. your chests heaving in unison, suguru finally collapses on top of your chest, and he’s just every bit of a mess as you are. both of you are absolutely spent of every drop, endorphins coursing through your veins as the adrenaline exists your systems. your eyes seek out his to find him already staring at you with a cheeky grin, your own face flushing with embarrassment while he presses butterfly kisses against your stomach.

“d-did, um…” it’s hard to get the words out, your lungs still very much fighting for air, but you cheekily grin at the man, your boss, kneeling between your legs, and dare to allow your hands to run through his disheveled hair. “was i… able to help?”

suguru weakly chuckles, and your heart flutters a bit at the sight of crinkles forming on his nose. “you did, (y/n).” smiling, he rises to his feet and leans down to kiss you, pressing a hand down on your tummy and pushing down. he feels you writhing beneath his palm as his cum leaks out of you. “trus’ me, ‘s just what i needed.”

© mambalae-s — rb’s + feedback are greatly appreciated!

[physalian]

When To Keep Your Writing Stiff (pt 7)

Part 6

Part 1

Gonna shoutout a specific fanfic, “Salvage” (ATLA) for writing that is even leaner than mine is, and mine has zero fat whatsoever. This was really good. I particularly like how some scenes were only 2 or 3 lines long as an example of what I’m going for here.

When I say “stiff” in the following examples I’m specifically talking about a lot of the same syntax, few similes and metaphors, few ‘said’ synonyms, very little, well, “life” in the prose. And this can be good in a few situations.

1. Your narrator is in shock

Shock doesn’t all look the same, but the kind of shock I mean is the one where the person is really quiet and un-emotive, they’re probably not speaking or reacting much to whatever catastrophe just happened and probably not responding to their name or anything spoken to them. Their body is pretty much going “uhhhhhhhhh factory reset!” when whatever it is, is too much to process.

A asks them a question. Once. Twice. B stares ahead. There’s a brown stain on the wall that looks like a thumb.

So if they’re narrating, they’re probably going to be giving the absolute bare minimum, need-to-know information and won’t be thinking about the best adjectives and adverbs. Especially if you normally write with fluffier prose, a jarring shift like this can really help sell the shock and dissociating of the character, something so traumatizing that it effects how the story is told.

2. Your narrator is depressed

Somewhere between New Moon’s 4 pages of just Months to show Bella did absolutely nothing in a depression rot and normal prose (though it was effective, particularly in the movie when they could draw out the words on the screen for longer and did the whole spin-around-her-depression-chair montage).

January came. It rained a lot.

They’ll probably either narrate very thinly, or listlessly. They might focus on a random detail and start going on a long ramble about that one detail that isn’t at all important, but it’s either all they can think about or all that can move them to feel anything in this moment, like:

On the bedside table, that coffee mug still sat there in a thin sheet of dust. What had been liquid now long since dry and gluey. It still sits there, collecting cat fur.

This might be the best place for sentences that all sound and flow exactly the same, but use it sparingly.

3. Your narrator is having a panic attack or trapped in a traumatic situation

Different from shock in that while they are physically capable of moving and interacting, they can’t let themselves describe what they’re seeing and feeling in grand detail. Maybe they’re moving through the horrific aftermath of a battle and all they can describe is the mud under their feet and how it squelches. Or they simply say that “there’s bodies everywhere” because looking too long or too hard at who those bodies belonged to is too much.

4. You’re writing something that has incredibly fast pacing

This post was inspired by a fic I just wrote that spanned about 5 months in about 18k words. Narrative was skipping days ahead between paragraphs at some point as my character was processing the end of an abusive relationship. It sped up and slowed down where necessary, but compared to its sequel that I also just finished (22k words across 7 days), I’d covered a whole month in about 2 sentences in the first one.

See nearly any part of Salvage (or my fics if you feel like it)

What happened in that month didn’t matter, only what was before and what’s different now and how this character realizes how their life is slowly changing, some things they never noticed that are suddenly right in their face or things that quietly slipped away.

—

TLDR; sometimes the lack of emotion and sensory details and frenetic, dynamic syntax is the point, that can sell the reader on the narrator’s mental state far better than picking the juiciest adverbs. If it’s so impactful to them that the physical telling of the story is changed, you’ve done your job.

[darkeralmond]

Bathing Suit

Luca Fantilli x Reader

synopsis: you bought a new bathing suit before your spring break trip and luca can’t keep his eyes off you

warnings: fluff, maybe suggestive idk

word count: 1.1k

a/n: this is based off a shifting scenario i had for one of my drs and i thought it was a cute lil idea ALSO SPEAK NOW TV AHHH

The afternoon sun blazed against your body, causing you to sizzle under the rays of light. Mixing that heat with the cool ocean breeze created the perfect spring temperature.

You laid on your stomach on top of your rainbow beach towel, resting the side of your head on your folded arms. You were at Panama City Beach for spring break with your friends. It was the first day of vacation and you honestly felt like just relaxing after the long flight.

You were focused on getting a tan while the rest of your friends played volleyball on the sand. Your friend group consisted of Adam, Seamus, Johnny, Luca, and one of your roommate/friend.

You were close with everyone in the group, but not as much as you were with the Fantilli brothers. You and Adam have been inseparable since the beginning of freshman year. Being the media team for the hockey team really had its perks.

You found yourself falling head over heels for his older brother, Luca. He was very well aware of that. Matter of fact, he predicted it. It was at a party where he introduced you two making sure to say, “You two are going to love each other… Like you’re going to fall in love.”

Adam rested on his back, soaking up the sun just like you were. Even though he had his sunglasses over his eyes, you could tell they were closed. “Did you hear that Janelle from the softball team is pregnant?” Adam the sentence flowed out of Adam’s mouth. If we weren’t laying out relaxing on the beach, he would’ve been more animated.

You didn’t react the same way though. Your head perked up as your mouth hung open with shock. “Janelle Reid?!” you gasped. She was always so against sex before marriage, it was like her whole personality trait. “Who’s the baby daddy?”

He sat up and took a sip of his Corona which was wedged into the sand. “Well, no one really knows, but people have their theories.” He took another long sip burying the can back in the sand. “Some people say it’s Weston… but some people think it’s her cousin.”

“No fucking way!” you yelled out loud while laughing. “Holy shit!” You grabbed your White Claw from out of the sand and took a sip as well.

Luca’s eyes pulled away from the game at the loud sound of your laughing. It sounded sweet and beautiful, how could he focus at a time like this? He looked over at you, completely ignoring the ball in his presence.

“Luca, dude!” Seamus yelled, causing you to look back at the group playing. “You’re selling the game!” You made eye contact with Luca for a split second before he looked back at Seamus.

He laughed it off and said, “My bad, bro!” He then grabbed the volleyball from the sand next to him and set the ball, hitting it over the net to your friend and Johnny.

You flipped onto your back so you could watch Luca play volleyball while he glistened with both sweat and sunscreen. His sun-kissed abs along with his little happy trail made your head feel dizzy. You were stuck in a trance staring at his beautiful smile. Thank God for your sunglasses to hide the fact you were staring directly at his body.

“Luca was checking you out,” Adam spoke up. You snapped your attention away from him and focused it onto his brother. He had a playful grin on his face, his head cocked to the side as he looked at you.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Shut up, no he wasn’t.” Even when denying the fact, your cheeks couldn’t help but turn bright red at the comment. Maybe you could pass it off as a simple sunburn.

Adam always doubted that you wanted him to shut up when it came to his brother, and in any instance, he was right. You wanted to know more about why he thought that. Maybe he was feeding into your delusions, but he knows his brother best. There were the whole wavelength things with where they know how they’re feeling.

“You know what I think it is?” Adam took another sip of his Corona, leaving you on the edge of your seat curiosity. “I think it’s that new bathing suit you got.”

You lifted your sunglasses and placed them on the top of your head. “What do you mean?” You knew exactly what he meant, it’s why you bought the damn thing.

A week before you all left for Florida, you and your roommate went to get some things for the beach. “Maybe you should get a new bathing suit,” they suggested as you strolled through the mall.

“What? Why?” you asked while chewing on the plastic straw of your drink.

They rolled their eyes with a playful smile on their face. “Because bathing suits are a guy’s weakness.” You knew who they were talking about, so you agreed.

You went inside PINK and found the perfect bathing suit. It was your favorite color and it fit your body type perfectly. Plus it exposed your body enough to still feel comfortable.

Adam rolled his eyes since you obviously knew what he meant, but he didn’t hesitate to lay it out for you. “The bathing suit is hot, Y/N,” he said. “You look hot. You know it, Luca knows it. You might as well act on it.”

His blunt statement caught you off guard causing you to stare at him bug-eyed. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You looked back at Luca again, feeling his eyes sinking into your body.

When you made eye contact with him again, Luca’s face instantly flushed red. He was embarrassed that you caught him staring at you. “Luca, your head is not in the game!” Seamus complained again.

“Yeah, yeah! I’m sorry!” he apologized, attempting to keep his eyes off you, but you were irresistible to him. “Uh, Y/N! Could you get me a beer?”

“Dude the last thing you need is beer,” Seamus muttered.

“Shut up,” he whispered back, nudging the guy.

“Yeah, of course!” You got up from your spot and walked over to him with his beer. He nodded his head and smiled, his eyes sneaking a peak at your glistening body again.

“Thanks,” he said, cracking it open and pulling his eyes away. He cleared his throat, his cheeks super red.

“Of course!” You walked back over to Adam where he was already staring at you with his eyebrows raised and a smug smirk on his face. “Holy shit,” you whispered to him. It finally sunk into your mind that he was actually checking you out.

“Mhm.” Adam nodded his head slowly. “Like I said, act on it.”

[wandasreallover]

Elizabeth olsen x reader|

Title: A Moment to Remember

Warnings:none :)

The soft hum of evening chatter enveloped the quaint rooftop restaurant, cresting with laughter and mingling aromas that swept through the air, where night began to embrace the city. Dressed in a flowing emerald gown that mirrored the lush foliage of the garden planted around the patio, Lizzie sat beside you at a round table covered in flickering candlelight. Around you, a colorful group of family and friends gathered to celebrate the success of her latest film, a heartfelt family drama that had tugged at the heartstrings of audiences everywhere.

The table was adorned with an array of delectable dishes and drinks, where glasses clinked like cheerful bells every few moments. Among the group, Natasha Lyonne animatedly recounted a behind-the-scenes mishap from “Poker Face,” her voice a joyful melody laced with humor. Having known Lizzie for years, Natasha feigned confusion at the radiant glow that surrounded Lizzie, whose attention seemed fully consumed by you.

You could feel the gentle warmth of Lizzie's hand clasped over yours beneath the table, her fingers tracing soft patterns along your palm. The world around you dimmed as you focused on the beautiful woman beside you, her heart-stopping smile stealing your breath away. Her wide, soulful eyes locked onto yours—soft and full of unspoken affection.

“Honestly,” Natasha continued, oblivious to the connection unfolding before her, “I had no idea that someone could mess up a simple card game so dramatically. You’d think it was a heist movie!”

The nearby laughter rang out like music. Lizzie’s lips curled into a half-smile, but her gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on you. You could feel your cheeks warming as her thumb brushed delicately against your wrist.

“Lizzie?” Natasha persisted, her voice teasing and curious, now honing in on her friend. “How about you, Miss Movie Star? What do you have to say?”

It took Lizzie a moment to snap back from her daze, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “What? Oh! I’m sorry, Nat—did you say something?” She blinked, suddenly coming back into the chaotic rhythm of laughter and chatter, her gaze narrowing as she tried to catch up with the conversation.

“Just wondering if you had any funny stories from the set,” Natasha replied, grinning devilishly as she leaned in. “Or do you only have eyes for your… date?”

Caught in the flurry of Natasha’s playful interrogation, Lizzie stuttered, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue. “I—uh, I mean… we had a lot of fun. The kids got ahold of the script and turned it into a musical number!” The words tumbled out of her lips, though they barely resembled sentences.

Natasha arched an eyebrow, her expression dance-like and mischief-laden. “Right… but speaking of eyes, I’d say your focus is elsewhere, pretty girl,” she teased, shifting her pointed gaze toward your interlinked hands. “Is it the food or the company? Because let me tell you, your date has some fierce competition.”

You chuckled softly, feeling flattered and amused by the playful banter. “I mean, the food is great, but I can’t lie—having Lizzie beside me definitely ups the quality of this dinner.”

Lizzie’s cheeks deepened in color, but her grip on your hand tightened, clearly enjoying the attention. “That’s sweet,” she murmured, smiling softly in your direction before returning half-heartedly to Natasha. “But I swear, we really did have an amazing time filming. It’s just the kids—I mean, they’re too talented for their own good, honestly. What can I say?”

The conversation flowed on, transporting to various topics, yet it always felt like all roads led back to the two of you. Lizzie immersed herself in the moment with you, occasionally breaking the fourth wall of the party atmosphere to steal glances, each look heavy with affection.

As the waiter swooped in to serve dessert, Natasha took the opportunity to lean across the table, a conspiratorial glimmer in her eyes. “So, what’s the deal with you two? The chemistry’s practically palpable, and I’d be surprised if even the cake didn’t notice.”

The laughter burst from the table, light and teasing, but Lizzie’s candid laughter quickly turned into a smirk. “Okay, okay! Yes, there’s something between us,” she confessed, her voice bright yet suddenly vulnerable. “I’ve just enjoyed these moments—so intimate and real. It feels nice to share it with someone who understands.”

“Aw, that’s adorable,” Natasha teased, her good-natured ribbing morphing into sincerity. “Just don’t forget that this place is a dinner, and you have to leave some of that love for the rest of us, too!”

You chuckled, unable to help the warmth spreading from your heart. Lizzie’s eyes met yours once more, and in that shared silence, you sensed the fabric of something beautiful unraveled between you. “I promise,” you whispered, “I’ll always save more love for you.”

As dessert plates crowded the table, Lizzie shifted slightly, leaning closer to you. The noise around faded into the background. You could feel her warmth, a gentle yet furious flame, pulsating against your skin. She brought your interlocked hands just slightly closer to her face, pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles, purposefully slow, her eyes sparkling like liquid diamonds.

Natasha observed, a knowing smile forming as she grinned at your intertwined hands. “Well, looks like I've got front-row seats to the cutest show of the night,” she said, raising her glass. “Let’s toast—to love, friendship, and sweet moments that make life worth living. To you two!”

With glasses raised high, the laughter swelled around you, washing over like a comforting tide. Lizzie’s fingers wrapped tighter around yours, as the connection you shared transcended mere words. It was in gestures, shared glances, and a simple understanding that shone in the night.

In that lively rooftop setting, surrounded by laughter and celebration, it was clear that this evening was not only a celebration of Lizzie’s success, but of the tender bond that had begun to blossom between you. In every moment, every smile, you felt the essence of something beautiful taking root—a lifelong memory created under the stars.

And as the night stretched on, you made a promise to yourself: this was only the beginning.

For: @lizardslizzie

[moonsandmobilityaids]

To Be Human

Pairings: James Potter x disabled!reader (part of my poly!marauders x disabled!reader universe) Summary: James can be a perfectionist, which is alright some of the time but you know full well that this isn't one of those times. Warnings: Mentions of chronic pain. Series Masterlist

The Gryffindor common room is quieter than usual, the crackling fire and occasional rustle of parchment the only sounds breaking the stillness. Most students have retired to their dormitories or found other corners of the castle to occupy, leaving behind the traces of a day filled with lessons and chatter.

But one figure remains steadfast in the dwindling light, hunched over a table cluttered with ink pots and rolls of parchment. James's brows furrow as he writes, quill moving in smooth, determined strokes. Every now and then, he pauses, eyes scanning the lines he has already penned, searching for errors or omissions.

Your gaze lingers on him from where you sit by the fire, wheelchair tucked into a cosy nook. A blanket is draped across your lap, offering a small measure of comfort against the ache that has settled in your limbs after a day of exertion. It's a familiar pain now, one you've learned to navigate through gritted teeth and sheer willpower.

Yet tonight, it's not your own discomfort that holds your attention. It's the sight before you—James, whose focus hasn't wavered from his work since dinner. He's been at it for hours, rewriting what appears to be an essay.

He writes a sentence, pauses, frowns, then crosses it out with a swift, frustrated stroke. You can almost feel the tension radiating off him, and it tugs at your heart.

"James," you call softly, not wanting to startle him but knowing that if you don't intervene, he'll likely work until dawn, oblivious to the passage of time.

His head jerks up, glasses askew, and he blinks at you as though surfacing from deep underwater. A small, weary smile touches his lips. "Hey, sweetheart. Didn't realise you were still awake."

You watch him, a mix of amusement and concern dancing in your eyes. "James, you've been at this essay for hours. It's nearly midnight."

"Is it?" James exhales heavily, raking a hand through his hair, which stands on end even more than before. "I didn't notice. I just... can't seem to get it right."

With a determined push, you roll forward, bridging the gap between you and James in two swift moves. You lean over the table, your gaze drawn to the paper he's been scratching away at for the past hour. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," he admits, tapping his quill against the edge of the page with an intensity that mirrors his frustration. He doesn't look up, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the slight furrowing of his brow. "It just doesn't feel right. I've reworded this sentence at least five times, and it still isn't perfect."

"Perfect?" you echo, tilting your head as you study him. Your eyes drift back to the essay. His handwriting, though hasty and unrefined, is legible—a far cry from the indecipherable scrawl of some students. The words flow across the page, each argument articulated with precision and clarity.

But that's the thing about James: good enough is never good enough. It has to be flawless, impeccable—perfect. This relentless pursuit of excellence is a trait you've come to associate with him, one that paints a picture of a boy driven by an insatiable desire to succeed.

It also tells you how much pressure he puts on himself.

"James," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you reach out, placing a light hand on his arm. "You've been staring at this parchment for hours. It's good—more than good."

He looks up at you, eyes clouded with frustration. "It's not good enough," he insists, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "This is McGonagall we're talking about. She expects our best."

"Exactly, our best—not perfection." You hold his gaze, trying to convey your sincerity. "Sometimes, I think you forget that they're not the same thing."

For a moment, James is still, the rhythm of his quill ceasing mid-tap against the table's edge. He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for something unsaid, something that might bridge the gap between his relentless drive and your offer of understanding. He's been this way for as long as you've known him—always striving to prove himself, to be the very best. It's not just about meeting the high standards he sets for himself, but also those he believes others have placed upon him.

"I just..." He exhales, a slow release of breath that seems to carry the weight of his unspoken fears. His shoulders slump slightly, the tension in them easing just a fraction. "I need it to be perfect."

You study him then, your gaze softening with the edges of understanding, yet sharpening with concern. "Why?" you ask, the single word cutting through the space between you.

He blinks, caught off guard by the directness of your question. "Because," he says after a moment, his voice barely more than a whisper, "if it's not perfect, then I've failed. I've let everyone down."

The heaviness in his words settles in your chest like a stone. You reach over, placing your hand atop his where it rests on the table. His fingers are stiff beneath your touch.

"James, one essay isn't going to determine your worth," you say gently. "You don't have to be perfect all the time."

He looks down at your hands, his own still unmoving. There's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before—a rigidity that speaks of unease. "It's just... I've always been good at things. Sports, school, everything. I feel like people expect that from me now."

You nod slowly, an understanding smile playing at the corners of your lips. You know all too well the weight of self-imposed expectations, how they can feel as real and pressing as any physical burden. "I understand better than you might think," you say softly. "But remember, it's okay to not be okay sometimes. To make mistakes, to not be perfect—it's part of being human."

James opens his mouth, perhaps to protest or offer a rebuttal, but you raise your hand slightly, asking for him to hear you out.

"Listen," you begin, your voice steady despite the tremor in your thoughts. "I live with chronic pain every day. Some days, I can barely get out of bed, and other activities... well, they're simply out of the question. I've had to learn—and believe me, it wasn't easy—that I won't always be at my best. Sometimes, just making it through the day is a victory in itself."

His gaze remains fixed on you, his expression softening as he absorbs your words.

"I used to feel like I was failing if I couldn't keep up with everyone else," you continue, your eyes meeting his. "But I've come to realise that just because I'm not doing things perfectly doesn't mean I'm not doing enough. Some days, showing up and trying is the best I can do."

James's sigh is soft, almost lost in the rustle of leaves above. His hand tightens around yours, a lifeline anchoring him to your words. "What if being good enough... isn't enough for me?"

"Then you're missing the point," you say gently, turning your head to catch his gaze. Your smile is small but sincere, a beacon amidst the storm inside him. "Being 'good enough' doesn't mean settling for mediocrity. It's about understanding that perfection is an unattainable goal. You excel at what you do, James, and no one can deny that. But you also need to allow yourself to be human, to have strengths and weaknesses. You don't always have to be the best. You just need to be the best you can be."

He releases a slow breath, tension seeping from his shoulders as he digests your words. A frown lingers, etched into the lines of his forehead—a testament to years spent under the weight of self-imposed expectations. "I just... I don't want to disappoint anyone."

James, you could never let us down," you say firmly, your voice a soothing balm against the sting of his insecurities. "Not me, not Remus, not Sirius. We love you for who you are, not because you're perfect."

His gaze flickers to you, the sharpness in his eyes softening into something warm and vulnerable. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, as if your words have cast a gentle Lumos in the dark corridors of his mind.

"How do you always know what to say?" he asks, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips.

"Years of practice," you reply with a slight shrug, but your eyes betray the depth of your affection. "And a lot of overthinking."

He chuckles softly, the sound like a crackling hearth driving away winter's chill. The tension bleeds from his shoulders, replaced by an ease that wasn't there before. He sets the parchment aside, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

"Maybe you're right," he admits, running a hand through his hair, the gesture almost boyish in its unconcern. "Maybe I should take a break."

The corners of your mouth lift into a small smile, a warmth spreading through your chest as his fingers entwine with yours. "I think that might be best, James."

James pauses, his gaze locked on the intricate patterns etched into the wooden tabletop before lifting to meet yours. His stern facade has softened, replaced by an expression that's almost vulnerable. "Thank you, darling," he murmurs, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "I don't always realise how harshly I judge myself until you hold up the mirror."

Your heart flutters at his words, the affectionate gesture. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, your smile never leaving your face. "That's why I'm here, James," you reply softly, "to remind you that you don't have to carry the world on your shoulders."

He leans in then, closing the gap between you until there's nothing but shared breath and heartbeat. The kiss is gentle, a promise wrapped in warmth and understanding. It lingers, a testament to the bond you share, unbroken despite the world trying to pull it apart.

"You always know how to make me feel better," he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away.

Your smile is faint, touched with a sadness that has nothing to do with defeat. "I try."