#ACROSS THE FRUITED PLAIN

[bunny-jpeg]

springtime on the battlefield

simon "ghost" riley

tags: smut/pwp, gods au, god of war!simon, body worship, plus size/chubby!reader, oral sex (reader receiving), alter sex, references to war & death

a/n: inspired by the prompts "one muse gives the other oral" & "in a sacred place" from this list.

a bride was not meant to cry. it would ruin the wedding, but this was no normal wedding. the expectations that you would meet a lovely man and settle down on a farm in the country seemed like a fairy tale as you stood there dressed in virgin white.

you carried dried flowers and smelled like fresh fruit. you were not going to be married off to a man in town. you were a token of favour for a god. a god who was only worshiped in the heat of war.

"we thank you, dear." the priest said with his hand on your shoulder, "you are doing a great deed, you have lived a fine life." his words felt sour and you could barely contain the small breakfast you had.

it was your wedding day, a bride shouldn't cry.

you were alone in the temple with a man who towered over you. he was taller than anyone you had ever seen in your town. you cast your dead flowers to the side and openly wept.

the doors to the temple were shut from the outside, you were trapped alone in there until he decided to kill you. if you were lucky it would be a quick painless death, but a god known for enjoying conflict may have more toying with token until the light left your eyes.

"you are my wife for the evening."

you nodded meekly, "just kill me already. kill me and give my town what they desire." your bottom lip wobbled. you felt the presence of the god near you. the energy he radiated was near terrifying. you looked up at him and sniffled, "please, make it quick."

but instead of a strike of death. the god of war touched your soft cheek. he noticed the dried cut on it and frowned. as if he didn't have an assortment of scars across his toned body.

"who did this?" he asked lowly.

"did what?"

"the cut, on your cheek. who cut you?"

you reached for your cheek and looked at him, "one of the priests. when i was held before the wedding. so i wouldn't escape. i refused to eat and he... hit me."

he made a noise and said, "then he'll be dealt with." then moved you closer to the alter. his touches were so soft despite his role in the pantheon of gods. he picked you up with ease and placed you on top of the alter. his hands at your hips as he eyed you.

he didn't gaze at you like a hungry man. but rather someone who admired a piece of art. like you were on par with the beautiful statues in the various temples around the country.

you didn't know what to say. you asked him softly, "do you have a name mister god?" you swallowed and froze when he touched your shoulders.

his hands were so scarred, but his touch was so delicate. he looked at you, those dark brown eyes on you. he said softly, "my mortal name is simon. you may call me simon."

you nodded, "alright, simon... are you going to kill me now?"

his blond brows furrowed together, "no." he said, "why would i do that? a husband would never harm his wife." then the mountain of a man dropped to his knees and slowly spread your legs apart, "i have yearned for a mortal as beautiful as you."

"i'm the largest woman in town... far cry from beautiful."

simon shook his head, "no.. divine. heavenly. are you certain you are not a goddess hidden in plain sight?" his tongue dragged across his bottom lip.

"are you trying to make me easier to kill-"

"i'm not trying to kill you, my love. you are my wife, your town gave you to me." he hiked your dress up, "i have every intention of keeping you." he rested his chin on top of your bare pussy, "you are heavenly, i've only stepped foot in the highest peaks of paradise and touching you is the same feeling... will you let me have a taste?"

you swallowed, "i am a virgin."

he kissed your inner thigh as your thighs spread a little further, "then i will take care of you. tonight, i make you feel good and slowly i will learn your body. and you will learn mine." then ran his tongue across your slit. he captured the taste of your wetness on his tongue. it made him shudder.

he had gone a long time without a lover. as much as he wanted to burn your town for trying to sacrifice you, he thanked them for picking well. he wasn't too sure how far the mercy would go.

"thank you."he said before he looked at you one last time, "for this blessing." before he started to properly pleasure you with his tongue. you gasped and clutched onto his short blond hair and without thinking bucked your hips against him.

"wait! ah!" his attention on your clit made your toes curl and you relaxed as he started to orally pleasure you. pleasure ran through you as he moved his tongue. he managed to get a finger in as well which only made you more excited.

you looked down at the god on his knees in front of you. he looked like a devote worshiper. your wetness smeared across his lip, it shined the scar that ran down them. he looked at you with those beautiful brown eyes.

"you're beauti-"

"i'm not."

he held you by the behind a little tighter, "i don't like to argue with my wife. but i will simply show you how beautiful you are." then continued to eat you out. he continued to orally pleasure you till your toes curled in your sandals.

if you were going to live, next time you hoped that you two would make love someone more comfortable. the stone of an alter, while deviously erotic, was not the most comfortable. simon felt so big against you, even while on his knees.

"how does it feel?" he asked as he massaged your thighs as he enjoyed the taste of you. he groaned a little when your soft thighs squished his head a little. he melted against you further. maybe it was because he was primed for war and not love, but this was the most beautiful feeling he ever had in his entire life. it felt like the first signs of spring after a harsh winter.

"it feels amazing."

you held onto the edge of the alter a little tighter. you let him pleasure you. taste every part of your sex, it had pleasure racing up your body in a way that you never felt before. you moaned a little louder as you felt the shudders of warmth through you. this was better than anything you could ever hoped for with a partner. it felt like he was worshiping you rather than you worshiping him. he took the role as your new husband very seriously, that the needs of his wife were paramount.

he wasn't going to devour you or kill you. he wasn't going to end your life, but rather give you a new one as his bride. even a monster of war needed the tender affection of love. he continued to make you feel good,his pace was slow enough not to scare you but with enough pressure that it made the pleasure bloom in your core. you squeezed your thighs around his head as he continued to orally pleasure you. it was a sharp intensity and you panted wildly between sweet moan.

simon knew he was going to keep you.

finally mortals had given him something worth keeping. no amount of livestock or gold could compare to the sweetness that was you. you tugged on his hair and he continued his movements. he dragged his tongue across you stiff clit and then swirled it around which only made your noises louder.

you held on tighter and felt yourself climax on his tongue. you moved your hips so your cunt was pressed firmly against his face. you made a sharp noise and tensed up as you came. the pleasure washed over you.

"simon, ah please." you gasped before you relaxed a little. your hand still in his short hair. you sharply exhaled then tried to catch your breath as the pleasure continued to rack through you.

simon pulled his mouth away and looked up at you with a gleam in his dark eyes. something so different than you expected from the god of war. for a moment he appeared human. but once he was on his feet once more, he appeared like the god many had come to fear.

you swallowed and admired him. you noticed the hard-on in his pants. before you could reach for it in an attempt to repay the favor. he stopped you.

"come away with me." he said. he then cupped your face with tenderness, "let me burn your town down for sacrificing a goddess." he pressed his forehead against yours a little aggressively, "i will take you as my living bride, i will spare you from the horrors. from the pain."

you swallowed, "i don't want you to kill them."

"you show them too much mercy. the people who claimed to love you threw you aside for their petty little war." he pulled you in for a deep kiss and you held onto his wrists.

you held on tightly. when he soon pulled away, he looked at you for an answer. you, however, did not waver, "they were scared. i'll go with you, but i ask you to spare them." a deep part of you wanted them to suffer. but you couldn't bring yourself to say it. to allow simon to do it.

he wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him, "you are much more kind than i am." there was a gravel to his voice, "then they will die with mercy on the battlefield." he kissed you once more before he added, "because no one may harm my wife. not while i am still standing." <3

[dearlenore]

COCONUT MILK. / A.HOTCHNER / SUMMARY - Aaron can’t look away from your chest …

PAIRING: bimbo!reader x aaron hotchner / w/c: 1.0k / fluff

a/n: sorry for writing about boobs so much in only human and very very gay. also first time writing for Hotch, I write for all characters now btw

You were a vision in glitter.

From your sparkly flip-flops to your floral bikini top that left very little to the imagination, you looked like you belonged on the cover of a beach magazine—or maybe in a pop star’s music video. With oversized sunglasses, glossy lips, and a floppy hat so big it could cause shade envy, you were definitely not blending in.

And yet, walking beside you, in a plain black t-shirt, swim trunks, and a face that screamed “I’d rather be anywhere else”—was Aaron Hotchner.

The contrast between you two was almost hilarious. People were definitely staring. A few whispered. One guy even elbowed his friend and pointed. Hotch didn’t react.

You bounced along the sand with excitement, juggling three oversized tote bags and an obnoxiously pink beach umbrella while sipping from your tumbler like it was a wine glass at brunch.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” you said, stopping suddenly. “This spot is so cute! You can see the water and the people, but we’re like, just far enough not to get splashed. Also, the lighting? Chef’s kiss. Perfect for selfies.”

Hotch blinked behind his sunglasses. “That was a lot of criteria.”

“And yet I delivered,” you grinned.

He took the umbrella from you and stabbed it into the sand with the ease of a man trained in all things practical. You laid out your fluffy beach towel—naturally, it was baby pink with glittery flamingos—and flopped down onto it dramatically like you’d just completed a triathlon.

Hotch sat beside you, crossing his arms, watching the water.

You looked him over shamelessly. “You’re not even sweating. That’s kind of hot.”

He raised an eyebrow, not responding, but his mouth twitched slightly like he was trying very hard not to smile.

You rummaged through your tote bag and pulled out a bottle of shimmery sunscreen. “Alright, Hotch. Time to do your civic duty.”

He glanced at the bottle. “What?”

You turned your back to him, letting your hair fall to the side, revealing smooth skin and the bow tied at the back of your bikini. “My back, please.”

He hesitated for just a moment before taking the bottle. “You own sunscreen with glitter?”

“It’s called Summer Seduction SPF 30, and it works really well,” you said. “Plus it smells like cotton candy and fruit.”

He gave the bottle a skeptical look, then uncapped it. You bit back a smirk.

His hands were warm—firm but gentle as they spread the lotion across your back and shoulders. You hummed in satisfaction, leaning into the touch.

“Mmm… You know, for a stoic FBI unit chief, you’re, like, really good at this.”

“I’ve had to apply sunscreen to Jack more times than I can count,” he replied, tone even.

“You comparing me to a kid?”

“No,” he said. And then after a pause: “Only you ever moaned when I did this.”

You froze mid-breath, then looked over your shoulder, eyes wide. “Aaron!”

A smirk was tugging at the corner of his mouth now.

“You’re teasing me.”

“Maybe.”

You turned back around quickly, trying to hide your grin—and your flush. Your heart was fluttering just a little too fast for comfort.

When he finished, he leaned back on his elbows beside you, and you flopped onto your stomach, kicking your feet lazily in the air.

“I brought snacks,” you said after a minute. “And a mini fan. Oh—and cherry lip balm.”

He turned to look at you, and unfortunately—or maybe very fortunately—your cleavage was front and center thanks to the way your bikini fit and how you were leaning forward on your elbows.

His eyes flicked down.

It was quick. Almost imperceptible.

But you saw it.

You said nothing at first. Just smiled and tucked your hair behind your ear, pretending to be oblivious. And then, very sweetly:

“Do you want some lip balm? It tastes really good.”

“I don’t need lip balm.”

“But it’s cherry. Don’t you wanna match me?” you teased, applying it slowly, dragging it across your lips with deliberate slowness.

His jaw tightened. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

You smiled innocently. “Doing what, Hotch?”

He turned away, shaking his head, but you didn’t miss the slight flush on his ears. Victory.

A little while later, after a few selfies and a brief period of you trying to get him to pose with you (he refused, though he did agree to hold your phone while you posed), you ended up sprawled next to each other on the towel, staring up at the umbrella.

“So,” you said lightly, “be honest. This isn’t that bad, right?”

“It’s… peaceful.”

You smiled. “I’m taking that as a glowing review.”

He tilted his head slightly toward you, his voice quieter. “I like when it’s just us.”

Your heart did a little somersault.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you said dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest, “you keep this up and I’m gonna start thinking you like me.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his sunglasses now pushed up onto his head, revealing his eyes. They were dark, serious—but soft, too.

“I do like you.”

Your smile faltered. “Wait. Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

You blinked, thrown off balance. “Okay, but like, I thought I was annoying. You know, glittery. Talkative. High-maintenance?”

“You are.”

“Wow. Rude.”

“But you’re also smart. Kind. Funny. You make me breathe,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t do that enough.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your brain short-circuited for a moment. Your glittery tumbler tipped over onto the towel and you barely noticed.

You swallowed. “You’re gonna make me cry and ruin my waterproof mascara, you know that?”

He smiled, reaching out to brush a speck of sand from your cheek. “You’ll survive.”

You cleared your throat, desperate to bring back the playful tone before your heart exploded. “Okay, but, real talk—would you still like me if I got a glittery surfboard?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I could match it to my bikini!”

“No.”

“…What about a glittery boogie board?”

He closed his eyes, like he was begging for patience from the heavens. “Please don’t make me arrest you for crimes against water sports.”

You laughed and leaned your head on his shoulder, sighing happily.

And even though he was probably overheating in his black shirt and completely out of his element, Hotch didn’t move away.

Instead, he brought one hand to rest over yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.

[nerdygirlramblings]

more Ren

previous

When you get back to your room, you pull the jersey off and get ready for bed. You toss it onto your bed, intent on washing it at the end of the week and returning it to the barracks. You know you need a solid night's sleep as Price said you're starting field training in the morning. Their field work is what sets special forces like the 141 off from traditional squad and battalion structures, so you knew whatever came would be entirely new. When you were qualifying, Gaz had you run simulations verbally, but this is different.

The next morning, Price has you meet them at the barracks. You're dressed as he told you: standard issue cargos and t-shirt, both black, and your boots. You notice the others are in compression shirts over which they then pull regulation Henleys and windcheaters. A frown twists your lips. Price hadn't said anything about top layers.

He must sense your displeasure despite the scent blockers that keep the tinge of overripe fruit from their noses because he glances over at you. "Forgot to tell you about the Henley and windcheater, Ren, sorry. Had Adam grab these for ya." He tosses a black windcheater and grey Henley at you, and you snatch them out of the air before they whap you in the face.

Soap snickers, and you resist rolling your eyes at him. Instead you turn to Price and say, "Thank you, Captain." You pull them on and notice the faint scent of woodsmoke clinging to both. They're big on you, long at the arms and torso. Ghost stares at you, unblinking, and you pat yourself down, worrying there's something on the windcheater. When you assure yourself there's nothing there, you look back at the leftenant, furrow between your brows.

Before you can ask him what's wrong, he grunts and turns away. Trying to adjust the windcheater, you wonder if these are standard issue or if Adam orders them special for the 141. Maybe you need to have him order one in your size. You're about to ask when Price starts walking towards a pair of golf buggies on the side of the barracks you hadn't noticed before.

He turns to you, climbing behind the wheel of the first buggy, and motions for you to join him. You climb hesitantly in beside him, and he tells you, "There's a facility, about two acres large, where we do our field training."

"Er, sir, why don't we walk?"

You hear a bright chuckle behind you. You hadn't noticed Gaz getting in the back of the buggy. "There's two ways to get there: the road or the woods," he says. "Once we got our gear on, yer not gunna wanna walk over there."

Price starts up the buggy and pulls away from the barracks. "We'll meet the others there. They'll get the rest 'a the things we need." You have no idea what else you need or what equipment Gaz might be referencing.

Price heads across base and after several minutes you see several large airplane hangers next to a field strewn with city-scape detritus. There's no telling what's in the hangers, but given the what the 141 does, you're sure the debris is for practicing entrance and egress in active combat zones. Despite all the work you've been doing with the 141, the gravity of your new role doesn't hit home until Price cuts the motor of the buggy.

You climb out with Gaz and Price behind you. Price parked between a hanger and the debris, but you don't know what you'll be doing today. As you're looking at both, Price calls your name. "We're in here today," he says, opening the hangar door.

Stepping in, you feel the temperature drop, and suddenly the top layers make more sense. Without central heating or cooling, the hanger is several degrees colder than the outside. Overhead lights illuminate a three-story building. The facade is plain, but there aren't any windows to see into.

Price claps a hand on your shoulder and points at the building. "We're gunna be working on asset retrieval today," he says. He motions to a table off to the side you'd missed. On it are various innocuous objects: a file folder, a USB drive, a photo, a keyring. "Each item is the kind of thing we might be sent to retrieve. We'll run a few scenarios where you'll have to find one of these items, or something similar. I'm not gunna tell ya what it is in advance or where to find it."

Ghost and Soap come in carrying tactical gear and various weapons as Price tells you you'll run this training in pairs. "I want to see how you work with each of the boys." Coming into a previously organized task force it makes sense, but knowing you'll be paired with each man causes a chill down your spine. You can't let them down.

For hours Price sends you in with Gaz or Soap or Ghost, having you find a set of lab keys, proof of embezzlement, a picture of someone that can be used against a target. You learn not to take any item for granted. As the day wears on, Ghost gives you pointers about how to scan a room for information. Soap reminds you to watch for traps. Gaz teaches you how to pick small locks, like those on file cabinets and desk drawers.

You're more mentally worn out when Price calls an end to the work than you were any other day in the last few weeks. "Ya did a good job today, Ren. Solid work for your first time," Price praises. "Need to work on your reaction times, but that'll come as we do more training. An' we didn't run this wi' any resistance, which is unlikely in our job, so eventually you'll be up against foes in training."

You don't miss the glint in Soap's eye or the sharpness of Gaz's smile at this, and you guess the team becomes both hunter and hunted in those simulations. Your pulse races at the thought.

By the time you're back at the barracks, you're exhausted. Gaz invited you in for supper and footie. You beg off, planning to snag something quick from the mess and head straight to bed. The team waves you off as you head back to your quarters.

As they pile into their barracks, Gaz and Soap immediately begin talking over one another.

"-watch 'er put it on-"

"-was swimming-"

"-looked cozy-"

Price's voice cut through the verbal melee. "Olright. So now she's got Gaz's jersey and my top layers. We'll work on getting something of Soap's and Ghost's in 'er hands this week. Then we see wha' she does."

next

series masterlist | main masterlist

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou

[mcrdvcks]

Congratulations on 2000 followers! Can I request something with logan? Just pure fluff and sweetness - maybe he’s dating a teacher and she takes him to class one day. The kids LOVE him and just treat him like their own personal jungle gym all day and he’s just grumpy but sweet and it makes reader fall even more in love with him. I was thinking worst Logan would be a good fit

i hope this is what you wanted! i rarely write for worst!logan, just because i rarely have any inspo for him, but this was really cute! (almost added a bonus scene as wade joining your class with logan, but wade was dressed up as santa.)

send an ask for my 2,000 followers celebration!

warnings/tags: teacher!reader, worst!logan, fluff

You were nothing like Wade’s other friends. You were sweet and kind, your apartment—which was across the hall from Wade—was well kept and homey.

Your guest bedroom was an office, were you kept many drawings from your past and current students.

Colorful crayon scribbles, notes in wobbly handwriting ("Miss Y/N is the best!!!"), and paper flowers covered the corkboard wall.

Wade made fun of it once, calling it “the Hall of Tiny Cult Worship,” but even he got a little quiet when he saw one that said “thank you for helping me feel safe.”

You’d been dating Logan for about seven months—quietly, sweetly, with a kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you had the energy for drama.

He wasn’t one for words, but he was always at your door when your car made weird sounds, and always remembered which days you had parent-teacher conferences (and brought you snacks).

He'd grumble when you kissed him on the cheek but never pulled away.

One Friday morning, you invited him to stop by your classroom before the long weekend. "Only for a bit," you said, knowing he’d hate being in the spotlight.

Logan muttered something about "not a damn babysitter"—but still showed up ten minutes early with coffee for you and a steel thermos of plain black for himself.

He hovered by the door at first, arms crossed, clearly hoping to avoid notice. That hope lasted about thirty seconds.

One kid spotted him and whisper-shouted across the room: “Miss Y/N, is that your dad?!”

Logan grunted. You laughed so hard you had to set down your coffee. “No, he’s my boyfriend,” you said gently, and half the class gasped like it was a scandal.

“But he looks so grumpy,” one kid offered.

“He is,” Logan replied, sipping his coffee. “Don’t let that stop you.”

You had planned a chill morning—reading groups, coloring, maybe a craft. Instead, Logan was immediately adopted like some kind of big, flannel-wrapped emotional support bear. Two of the smallest kids clung to either of his legs like barnacles. One was braiding yarn into his sideburn.

“You’re like a jungle gym!” one kid shouted, climbing onto his back without asking.

“He’s not a toy,” you started to say—

“S’okay,” Logan muttered, hands still in his pockets. “Seen worse.” He wound up sitting on the carpet, surrounded.

One kid sat in his lap showing him their drawing of a dinosaur. Another was explaining the entire plot of a made-up video game. A third just wanted to hold his hand. He didn’t say much—but he nodded at all the right parts. Let them keep talking. You caught him gently fixing a kid’s broken glasses. He didn’t make a big deal about it. Just muttered “hold still,” and adjusted the frame like it was second nature.

That same kid later whispered to you, “Miss Y/N, I think your boyfriend might be a superhero.”

You smiled and said, “I think so too.”

At snack time, a kid offered Logan a fruit snack with reverence usually reserved for royalty. He took it like it was a peace offering. “Cheers, bub,” he said, and the kid beamed.

You found a picture on your desk later: crayon drawing of you, Logan, and the class, with the words “Miss Y/N and Mr. Logan – Best Day Ever.” Logan saw it, grunted, then quietly slipped it into his jacket pocket.

When the day ended and the kids hugged his legs goodbye, Logan crouched down and muttered, “Be good for your teacher, alright?”

One of the kids said, “you’re soooo grumpy. I like you.” Logan actually smiled. Not a lot—but enough for you to feel it in your chest.

As you walked to the car, you slipped your hand into his. He didn’t pull away. Just gave it a light squeeze. “Thanks for coming,” you murmured.

“Could do worse,” he said gruffly. “You got a good class.” Then, after a pause: “You… you’re real good with ‘em.”

You looked up, heart warm, and whispered, “So are you.”

That night, he asked—very casually—if you needed help cutting out shapes for next week’s bulletin board.

You kissed him on the cheek and said, “only if you wanna.” He grumbled. But an hour later, he was at your kitchen table with scissors and a pile of cardstock.

[dinsbeskar]

Wicked Game (Sauron/F!Reader)

He knows he shouldn't covet you, that he is above such earthy things as love. So why does he stalk you in the forests you call home? It's love at first sight, and the feeling is mutual; or:

Sauron engages in some light stalking and gets the girl somehow.

Prequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Wicked Game / Beautiful Stranger / Iris

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

Warnings: 18+! Smut, fluff, lil bit of angst, P in V sex, fingering, licking/biting. Sauron!! He's super creepy, sorry, idk what to say, there's some stalking, some creepy behaviour, he's a bit unhinged. Love at first sight!! Like babe it's been an afternoon, calm down. Anyway we move fast!!

A/N: bro is head empty, no thoughts, down bad in this, sorry!! in this house we subscribe to the 'elves fuck once and they're married for eternity' idea, so there's that tiny spoiler for you!

Word Count: 6.2k!

Mairon was already old when he met you, unfathomably ancient in fact, wandering Arda and beholding the power of creation, amongst other things. He was sure he had already experienced everything there was on the physical plain, but you would prove him wrong indeed. When the first Elves awoke, he felt a pull, like many of the Ainur, to see the new life that now roamed the forests and plains they had sung into being. He was not the first spirit to stumble across the peoples of Middle Earth, and he would not be the last. Watching your people dance and sing and create gave him new inspiration to take back to Aulë's forge, to bring order and balance to your lives as he saw fit, for who could know better than he?

Today was a feast day, when all of your people were out in the forest hunting and foraging, mirthful song filling the glades as you ran barefoot through the trees, breathless with laughter and exertion, carrying a basket of berries meant for the evening's festivities. Pale golden light streamed through the leafy canopy, dust motes floating in the rays and sparkling like the stars above. You looked around for your companions, a little far off beyond the thicket you had picked through for its fruit. Unperturbed, you continued, hearing the silvery sound of water flowing somewhere in the vicinity. A drink or a dip was almost certain, you thought, to refresh you and your companions before the feast, but you would find it first and save them from searching. Soft birdsong and rustling leaves accompanied by a warm breeze made for the perfect setting; how could you wish for more?

He makes a great effort to be silent, not wishing to frighten you, unsure of how his sudden appearance might affect you. After all, you hadn't heard him the countless times before, why should you now? He matches your footsteps, remaining in step with you behind the trees in the merciful shadow, careful not to disturb the undergrowth, picking carefully through the wildflowers that scent the air. Your pointed ears prick up at a rustle in the trees, and you snap your head round to investigate. He darts behind a gnarled oak tree, holding his breath and awaiting your discovery. You smile and shake your head softly; what could you possibly be afraid of in these forests, your home for decades? You continue following the sound of the stream up ahead, ignoring all other sounds in the forest now, much to his satisfaction. How innocent you are, how much you need his protection, for what would you do if there were forces that wished to subdue you or do you harm? The glint in his eye grows as he draws closer, still choosing to remain hidden from you. He could use his powers to disguise himself, to stalk you unnoticed almost hand in hand with you, and had done on a few occasions, close enough to smell your soft hair, even to take a few strands for himself, but somehow he likes this better, imagining you the innocent prey to his stealthy predator, a thrill at the though of catching you rushing through him as quickly as he pushes it away. He only wants to watch you, to know you, to observe, nothing more. What interest could you possibly have in one another beyond curiosity?

The first time he saw you, many moons ago, you'd been surrounded by your fellow Elves, dancing in harmony in a field of wildflowers, sweet music in the air. He hadn't thought much of you at first if truth be told, you were all very much alike; all fair and graceful, joyful and innocent. It was only when the music picked up, your dance became faster and more frenetic, that an Elf with long golden hair had tripped and fallen, disrupting the rhythm, leaving all your companions giggling at her misfortune. He too had laughed at her stumble, grateful that the music covered his sudden outburst, but then he noticed you, with your hand outstretched and a comforting smile to greet your fallen comrade, who shook herself off while you picked stray leaves from her hair. She seemed unhurt, and no one else was concerned, already having resumed their merriment, but you held back a moment to check she was well. He was instantly captivated, itching to reveal himself and carry you off, to protect the light within you, or consume it wholly. The tiny semblance of self-restraint he had left held him back, told him to wait and observe, to absorb all he could about you; the idea of you rejecting his advances was intolerable, triggering waves of nauseous anger throughout his being. No, patience would serve him, and so he had waited, oh so patiently. Your kindness had, and would, be your undoing.

Illuminated up ahead is the stream you've been chasing; it's small, barely a trickle, but you follow it regardless. The water is cool and clear and refreshes your worn feet, and you lift your dress to keep it clear as you pad down the river bed, feeling the sandy mud between your toes being washed away as you lift your feet into the current. The light is beginning to fade now, you know you should turn back, but you're sure there is a pool nearby, and it would feel so good to swim a little before getting back to the others. They could share in it tomorrow, but today you could bask in some sweet time alone.

He has been following your softly trodden path in the mossy forest floor, but when he reaches the water's edge, it vanishes. Cursing, he casts about, searching for a hint of your next steps. He had only stopped for a moment, distracted by the way your hair catches the light, your graceful smile, the way your dress flows over your frame. A fleeting thought of taking that same dress off you, the image of you pliant underneath him, all had left him breathless, frankly caught unawares, still unused to the urge to get close to you even after all this time, and the strange feelings that coursed through his fair form that he had never experienced before setting his gaze upon you. He had passed a few golden afternoons like this - perhaps many if he were ever honest - watching and waiting for you, but every occasion felt like a lifetime, which for Mairon was indeed no understatement.

Frustration coursed through him, filling the pit of his stomach with a strange churning at the thought of losing you; it was a feeling he couldn't quite place, nor come to terms with. These mortal forms were not for him, he decided, the lack of clarity in these feelings was suffering enough, and he turned to leave, embarrassed now that he had let it get this far. It was a foolish errand, carried out once too often, following you through the forest with no thought but to see what you would do if you only turned around, saw him, embraced him-

A sharp crack rang out through the trees as he snapped a branch under his feet in his haste, all thoughts of moving in the shadows abandoned as his self-admonishment moved him to run, to leave now before he could become entangled with you. But as he scolded himself for his lack of self control, he heard you call out.

"Who's there? Did you find me? And here I was, hoping for some peace," you laugh, expecting your friends to join you as you wade in the crystal clear waters.

Your eyes widen and you stare at the stranger who appears as if from the shadows themselves, a small smile gracing his face. He is ethereal, and frankly you have never beheld a being more beautiful, but for the first time in your life, a small voice deep in your mind advises caution.

"I didn't mean to startle you, young one," his smooth voice reaches your ears and sends tingles from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

"You didn't," you lie, after a long pause, not wanting to discomfort him any more than he seemed to be. Blood rushed to your face as he regards you intensely, as if you'd met before.

"Were you looking for something? The pool perhaps? It is a warm day, I couldn't be too surprised to find someone else had the same idea." You gesture to yourself with your skirts around your waist, legs submerged.

He steps closer, still regarding you, his smile widening. You had said something right apparently, and you couldn't shake the feeling of satisfaction that his lovely smile gave you; as long as he kept looking at you like that, you felt you might be content forever, such were the tender pangs your heart suddenly felt in his presence. You didn't even know his name, and so immediately you ask.

"I have many names," he articulates carefully, eyes on yours, unblinking.

"So what name should I use for you?" You ask teasingly, beginning to step out of the water, wringing the edges of your skirts out.

Unthinking he stretches out his hand, and as if on instinct, you take it, not needing the assistance but immediately grateful you took it. His hand is warm and strong, and encircles yours comfortingly, fitting perfectly. A wave of some strange feeling overtakes you, a heat beginning in your abdomen, flowing through you. You've never experienced it before, but from what you have heard from your married kin, it might be called lust.

Your face feeling hot now, you look away, anywhere but at this beautiful stranger, and notice a small dark stain blooming on his shoe. Your eyes widen and you drop to your knees to look closer, unheeding of the change in his stance as he takes you in from above. What magic could you wield over him in this position, he wonders.

"You're hurt, my lord," you motion to his foot, and he realises that in his trance, the branch had broken his sole and pierced his flesh. The pain had gone unnoticed until now, your spell over him seeming to soothe any ill in his body or soul, but now that you'd pointed it out, he winced and cursed this body of flesh and bone, so easily vulnerable to the perils of mortality, even if his fëa was not.

"Come, let me look at it, it might be serious," you beckon him to follow you to a fallen tree trunk, lying oh so conveniently on its side, as if waiting for two lovers to take their seats on its bark. He stands awkwardly, watching you, his brow furrowed as if he had no idea what you have planned, before you laugh and pull him to sit. Without ceremony, you strip him of his shoe and examine the wound.

"That is a lot of blood for such a small wound," you murmur, tracing the arch of his foot. You find yourself touching his skin a fraction too long, and without looking at him, you straighten and go back to the pool.

His eyes never leave you, even as you avoid his gaze, ripping a strip of gauzy fabric from your dress and wetting it, before hurrying back. Almost imperceptible to the average observer, your hands shake, but he is not the average observer, and he has observed you for quite a while now. You're nervous, he realises with a tiny smirk, and it thrills him, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. All these new feelings this body gave him, they don't appear to cease evolving while you're this close, close enough that he feels your breath on his skin and nearly gasps. He needs to pull himself together, but try as he might, alas, your kindness was intoxicating. He had known such goodness in Aman when he'd dwelt there with his kin, if you could call them that, but his recent company was somewhat lacking in that department.

You sit back on your haunches and look once more at the wound, now nearly clean and seemingly smaller than it had been. Shrugging to yourself, you carefully dab away the blood that still drips onto the ground beneath you, soaking into the moss and ferns; you don't notice how they seem to brown and wilt with each drop.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" He asks, quick to notice your confusion, eager to distract you from the plants at your knees.

His lady, that did sound delightful. You know it is a manner of speech, but for a moment it is rather blissful to imagine it, the lady to this gracious lord.

"I think I might have overestimated how badly you were injured, it seems to be only a scratch," you reply, still a little bemused as to the disproportionate amount of blood. How were you to know that he could heal himself with nary a thought.

You start to pull away, but he is reluctant to let you go so soon, wishing for a moment it had been a serious matter, that he would require all of your gentle care and undivided attention for the foreseeable future, kicking himself that he didn't allow the wound to fester and bloom. He casts about for any excuse and uncharacteristically lands on a weak one.

"Your dress, my lady, how can I make it up to you? After all, your efforts ought not be in vain." He knows how to ingratiate himself with most folk, and makes the most of his skills to do so, but there is a tiny part of him now that actually feels he owes a kindness in return. It's an alien notion, and he attempts to brush it aside, but as he lingers in your presence, he realises that he would sooner abduct you from this glade than let you leave him, and if a kindness is what it will take, then he will fulfil it.

A small crinkle appears in your brow, then you glance down at the torn hem and chuckle.

"It is nothing, my lord, easily fixed, and anyone would have done the same." You graciously reply.

The way you look up at him through your lashes, his heart skips a beat; he didn't even know it could do that.

Your small nervous smile becomes radiant, beaming even, as you bask in the glow of the dappled light illuminating his face. You realise you don't want him to leave just yet, inexplicably drawn to his presence, and you cast about for any reason at all that would keep him here.

"I'm afraid your shoe is a little wet." To your credit, it actually is wet, full of blood, but in an inexplicable act to scupper his departure, before he can react and you can elaborate, you find yourself holding it on the water's edge.

Your hands move faster than your brain, and you drop it into the shallows, looking him dead in the eye.

For a moment, all is still between you, and you bite your lip, your mischievous grin suddenly uneasy as your mind catches up with you and you consider what in all of Middle Earth you just did. This is a total stranger, an ethereallly beautiful one at that, and you have no idea how he will react to your escapade. You straighten and wring your hand a little behind your back, awaiting a wrath that would never come.

"It would appear it is very wet, my lady." And he throws back his head and laughs long and hard, a sound that you want to elicit from him again and again.

When you are lying entwined together, many years and hardships later, he will ask you what you were thinking, and as ever you answer him honestly: you only wanted him to stay, however you had to do it.

With a playful laugh, you retrieve the sodden shoe and shake it off, before holding it out to him. He can still leave, you think, but it will be mighty awkward.

He takes it, throws it behind him, kicks off his other shoe, and shrugs off his robe. Your mouth falls open a little and you lick your lips unconsciously, as his frame is revealed, taut and lean, through his thin shirt. He rucks up his trousers and joins you in the shallow water, shivering a little at the sensation.

Instinctively, you outstretch your hand to steady him, and he takes it without thinking. His touch soothes any nerves you had and sparks a fire that seems to trail up your arm and end in your aching chest. You hadn't noticed you were holding your breath and slowly exhaled, careful not to alert him to your sudden onslaught of sensation. He considers you for a moment, smile tugging at his lips, seemingly fascinated by where you are joined, fingers entwined. And then he has a mad idea.

The tension in the air is cut by a sudden splash of water on your face, and as you clear your eyes, you realise he was the one that had thrown it. He had seen many an elf play-fighting in the water all the time, throwing it at one another joyously, victory seemingly determined by who doused their opponents the most. He had never partaken, obviously, but now inspiration took him, and you had made the first move with his shoe, but now as he watched your face screw up with indignation, water in your eyes and hair, he wasn't so sure it was the right jest with which to entice you.

For a moment you are dumbfounded. This stranger, whose name you still didn't even know, whom you'd only met in the last hour, had started a water fight.

Seemingly affronted, you snatch your hand away and make to leave, turning your back to him. His face falls and he realises this was probably not the way to win your affections.

"My lady, I-" his apology is cut short by an armful of water to the face, as you reach down into the pool and swing as much as you can in his general direction in one fell swoop.

Cackling with triumphant laughter, you can't help but feel a little sorry for him as he stands there absolutely sopping wet, eyebrows in his hairline, looking positively flabbergasted. Unfortunately for you, his eyes narrow as he realises your subterfuge, and the game commences.

It is over soon enough, the two of you emerging soaked and giggling like children, having run rings around each other and giving as good as you got, both of you thoroughly avenged. As you both wade back to shore, he takes your hand and holds it in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, I present the victor of the battle-"

He is interrupted by the both of you breaking down into breathless laughter once again, two strangers no more.

On the sandy bank, he climbs out first, and awaits you, but you hold back.

"What should I call you then, my lord, unless that is what you prefer to be named?" You have to ask, needing introductions now you had so thoroughly beaten him in battle, never mind your fascination with him, the overwhelming urge to pull him close.

"I have many names, my lady, and you have not yet told me yours," he replies, almost but not quite frowning at you, confused as to why it really matters, why you would need to know who he is after having passed such a pleasurable afternoon together.

"You first, I asked you before and you avoided the question." Your expression is now serious; why would he want to conceal himself from you, after you had passed such a pleasurable afternoon together?

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I have many names, but the one I prefer," he holds his breath a little, still unsure as to how you might receive him, "is Mairon."

After a long pause, in which he considers fleeing, or possibly burning the forest down, your expression brightens as you mull over his name, feel it in your mouth, wonder over the meaning.

"That is beautiful," you murmur, "the admirable? You must be something wonderful to have earned such a name, my lord."

Relief washes over him as he realises his true name must not yet be known in these parts; rumours and slander would not colour his attempts to woo you after all.

His gaze softens as he watches you taste his name on your tongue, and he has a sudden aching longing to know what it sounds like when you're on your back and breathless under him. Surely nothing could be sweeter.

"And you, love, what am I to call you?" He is so struck by you, he barely notices the crucial detail that slips from his lips, but you do, and you regard him with a strange look he can't place.

Love, he said, so casually and so delicious to hear, your breath hitches and for a second the world spins. You've only just met this man, if he is even a man, and he uses such pet names as if you've known each other a lifetime.

"Amarië, that's what everyone calls me." You had almost forgotten he had asked, and it was only the silence between you that reminded you to answer.

"Goodness. A fitting name for so virtuous a maiden." He steps closer, still on the bank, oh so tall above you, the light through the trees illuminating him from behind, leaving his features in shadow.

Of course, he already knew your name, and had always thought it fitting. Indeed, it was one of the reasons he had hesitated to approach you, for surely one so good could not possibly want nor need one such as him, despite the ache in his heart that told him you were his to take, the rest of Arda be damned. He knew his purpose in Arda was a valiant one; his methods, however, he was aware they were... contestable.

Your face grows hot at his compliment, and you look down and away, anywhere but at his gaze, currently fixed on you, intense and contemplative. He gently lifts your chin, seeming to study your every feature, every nuance in your expression until he sees what he desires.

A shadow passes over his face, before he tightens his grip and finally pulls you from the shallow water. You stumble a little, but he is right there to catch you, strong arms around you as your free hand is crushed between you, pressed against his chest. His eyes are dark, scaring you and thrilling you all at once, like a wolf studying its prey before their total annihilation. Then he takes your face in his hands and claims your lips, as if he's finally satisfying some dark long-held urge, and you cannot help but melt.

It is as if he has done this a thousand times before, teasing you with his tongue, demanding entrance to your mouth as if he wants to drown in you.

Electric tingles spread over your skin everywhere he touches, from your neck where he grips you softly, to your lips he has claimed for his own, to your waist that he refuses to yield from his embrace.

He is unrelenting, refusing to let you come up for air, even as you claw at his arms for release. Finally he seems to realise his mistake and pulls back, lips swollen and parted in pleasure. You take a deep breath, chuckling a little as you do so.

"You are no Elf, my lord Mairon," you remark, righting your dress and smoothing your hair where he had wound his fingers.

With a slightly apologetic smirk, he nods. "I am something far greater, my love, so from time to time, I might forget such... intricacies."

In this moment, you feel as though your heart might burst, wanting him close, touching you, encircling you. But a shiver travels down your spine as the little voice whispering warnings becomes a scream, beholding him not as an ethereal being sent to ravish you, but a danger to ruin you. It was all too brief and you shook it off, for how could this beautiful creature ever mean you harm?

Evening becomes night, and you migrate from the tree trunk to the forest floor. Nestled into him with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you share the basket of berries that will surely be missed at the feast of your kin, and talk for hours about everything and nothing. He tells you of his work, that he is a smith and loves nothing more than to create beautiful things, but he has never had more exquisite inspiration than you.

He seems to know just what to say, soft words whispered only to please you, and all you want is more. He traces his fingers up and down your arm, across your collarbone, into the shell of your ear, idly mapping every inch of you.

He doesn't press you further than gentle touches and tiny kisses peppering your skin. Perhaps though he is no Elf, he is aware of your people's customs, that to give yourself to him in body would be to make the two of you one forever, body and soul. You're not so sure that isn't what you want, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless; after all, you have only known him an afternoon.

It takes all of his self-restraint to suppress the urge to take you here and now, after all, who were you to stop him? But he wanted you when you were ready for him, mind, body, and soul, and he was willing to wait, even if it took an age. Admittedly it would be a difficult wait, he muses, as he realises the close proximity of your body to his is having an unexpected effect on him. He shifts position to avoid you noticing how hard he is just from touching you, and he prays to any of the Valar who might have an ear for him that his wait for you will be swift.

You twirl a tiny flower idly between your forefinger and thumb, gazing up at the heavens, your other hand wrapped in his. You are such exquisite inspiration, he muses, smirking as he realises he can have you after all. He sits up, making you groan, robbed of his warmth.

"What are you doing, love?" You complain, taking a slightly petulant tone that makes him chuckle.

"You'll see, patience is a virtue," he reaches out with his closest hand and smoothes your hair, gesturing for you to lie back down.

You kick your feet a little, suitably admonished but impatient still.

"Come back to me, I had just got comfortable, and you've ruined it now!" You laugh at him, his back turned to you so you can't make out what he is doing.

You sigh long and loud, earning an affectionate chuckle, before you lay back down and close your eyes. It is but a few moments later that he grasps your hand and pulls you up to face him. When you see what he has readied, you gasp, tears pricking your eyes.

Purple irises grow with literal wild abandon in these fields and you had always loved them, weaving them in your hair and stitching their image on your garb. In his hand, perched on his fingertips as if it is the most precious thing in creation, is a tiny iris in full bloom, its slender stem wound and plaited into a ring, with its gorgeous indigo flower crowning it like no diamond ever could.

He is on his knees in front of you, ring in hand, and for a second you cannot quite put the pieces together. You have known him a day, if that? It is a beautiful gift, but can you accept the deeper meaning behind it, that seems to lie in his expression, if not his words.

"It is beautiful, my lord," you sigh, "I think I shall require your aid in putting it on, it is so delicate after all."

Your heart aches at his wide smile, the crinkle of his eyes as he wordlessly slips it onto the fourth finger of your left hand, which surely he cannot know would mean-

"I would make you mine, my love, if you would have me," he murmurs, heart beating out of his chest, sentiment momentarily making him soft and weak for you.

So he does know the significance, and in an instant you feel as though you've been doused in liquid fire, nerves tying your stomach in knots, regarding his gift on your finger with equal parts trepidation and excitement.

You close the space between you and grasp his face with both hands, claiming his lips for your own, fingers travelling to his hair and over the pointed tips of his ears. He moans deep in his chest and pushes you backwards into your makeshift bed, peppering you with kisses until all your skin is ablaze.

"I am yours," you breathe, words so soft he might have missed them, had you not whispered directly into his ear, clutching his neck and whimpering as he maps every uncovered inch of you he can reach with his lips.

He groans, a noise so guttural it surprises you in the best way, sending a wave of arousal to between your legs. He rolls his hips against yours, and you feel something hard against your mound, through all the layers of fabric between you.

The stars blaze above you, hot and bright, but they have nothing on the way he makes you feel. You have heard of love at first sight, but never thought it might happen to you, that it was rare enough if it happened at all.

His hot breath trails down your neck to your collarbone, and his clever fingers work to unlace you from the fabric shielding you from his gaze. He stops a moment, breathing heavily.

"Tell me you want this -" his silver tongue licks your ear and sucks at your neck. "Tell me you need this."

His gaze is so heated, and his voice rough with arousal, that you clench your legs together to relieve that ache that has been building there since you met him. It seems like forever ago now, impossible that it has not even been a day.

"I need you," you hiss, desperate for any touch he'll bestow upon you. "...I'll always need you, now that I have you, I can't let you go."

Your words shatter the last remaining resolve he had not to ruin you, and he takes you as his own. Stripping every inch of you until you are bare before him, desperate for his skin on yours, he wraps you in his arms, legs entwined with yours. The violent urge to claim you was not satisfied, but he would have plenty of time to show you all of him; tonight was your wedding night, and you deserved what gentleness he could provide.

He runs his fingers through your slick, fascinated by how wet you are for him. Perhaps these mortal forms were not so bad after all.

You moan his name and beg for more, though you cannot possibly know what you are asking for. His lascivious grin sends tremors through you, a swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you there is no going back now.

He loosens himself from his trousers, shucks them off almost clumsily in his haste to be inside you. He is beautiful, you reflect, as you take in his bare torso, his strong legs, and all the flesh in between. His size shocks you a little and you wonder how he plans to use it.

He sees your eyes widen and immediately covers you with his body, kissing softly at your neck so to better hear your tiny sounds of pleasure. In time he will make you scream, he vows.

"It's alright, love," he reassures you with a soft smile, "I've got you, I won't let it hurt."

His fingers move in comforting circles in the small of your back, at the apex of your thighs, across your mound. He gathers the slick from your entrance, readying himself with a stroke. He is already so painfully hard, but he has to come inside you, no way will he waste his seed on the forest floor.

He holds your gaze as he lowers himself to between your thighs, wrapping your legs around him.

"Pull me to you, love, make me yours," he pants, cock straining at your entrance, waiting for you to take the plunge.

It's like standing at a precipice; the fear of falling is so closely tied to the fear of jumping. But you bite your lip and dig your fingernails into his back, tighten your calves, and pull his lower body into yours.

You want to scream, the stretch is too much, he is too big and he's hitting somewhere delicious inside you that makes you see stars. He doesn't move, letting you feel all of him, relishing in you taking him like the good girl you are.

"Well done, love, so good for me, you feel so fucking good," he exhales, towering over you while the moon illuminates him from behind, leaving his expression inscrutable.

His fingers on your abdomen are so soothing, the stinging stretch you felt disappears, leaving only white hot pleasure in its wake. You begin to move your hips against him, aching for more friction, more skin on yours, you'd take anything he would give you.

At first his movements are slow and rhythmical, as if you are made of glass, but your impatient whines encourage him to release himself upon you, snapping his hips in time to your thrusts against him, endlessly surprised but thrilled at your eagerness to please him. He has chosen so well.

The intensity of the moment gets the better of both of you, and before long you are chanting his name in his ear, chasing your inevitable ruin on his cock.

He comes first, much to his eternal embarrassment, unable to prevent spilling inside you as your tight cunt clenches his flesh. You feel him pulse inside you and it tips you over the edge, a silent scream on your lips as fire overtakes your flesh and leaves you drowning in him.

For a second, you behold each other as you truly are, not in body but spirit, and it terrifies you; you see something black as the darkest night throwing off flames that lick at your being, triggering that sick swooping feeling in your abdomen again. He is enthralled by you, bright and radiant like the morning star, and he wants to coat himself in your light, drink it in and burn all of Arda until there is nothing but the two of you in the cosmos.

His attentions to your neck slow and he leans back to look at you in all your glory, radiant under him in body and soul, as you lazily trace his hips with your fingers, coming down from your high and needing nothing more than to be held.

"You did so well, my love, so good for me," he whispers as he releases you from his grasp, laying you down beside him and pressing himself against your back with his arm slung over your torso possessively.

Your eyes begin to droop with the lateness of the hour and the exertion of your wedding night, and while he murmurs in your ear how much he loves you, how proud he is of you, how much he needs you, you take his hand and sleepily press a kiss to his palm. You snuggle in closer as he draws his robe around the pair of you against the night's chill, and slowly drift off, a smile on your face even in sleep.

He gazes at you adoringly, murmuring sweet nothings as your body relaxes into his.

"Beautiful girl, only mine," his voice is so soft yet somehow it finds you even as you begin to slumber. "My sweet wife, we will know peace together, I swear it to you."

He wants to claw inside his own chest and pull his treacherous heart out with his bare hands, for surely that pain would be easier to bear than this. He curses himself for being so weak, and you for being so tempting, before closing his eyes to join you.

He thought by having you, possessing you, that these feelings might be assuaged, that the urgency he felt to be near you would fade, and he could move on from this unique torment. Alas they had increased a hundredfold, and he swore on his fëa itself that no harm would ever come to you, that he would cherish you all his days.

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

No, I don't wanna fall in love with you

[regretismyconstantcompanion]

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the couch, staring into the fireplace that was across from him. The crackling of the flames was the only sound breaking the silence in the cottage that was nestled in the Scottish Highlands. It was isolated, miles away from even the nearest village. He had chosen it for that very reason, desperate for solitude even if it wasn't something that had been forced upon him. He had lost the duel against Grindelwald. He had known that had always been a possibility. There were equals after all and had known each other painfully well. They had spent that summer duelling, friendly but pushing each others boundaries. They had grown and changed and become more powerful but their tendencies had lingered. The fight had lasted well over an hour but in the end, Gellert had just gotten the better of him and managed to disarm him and send him flying backwards. His only minor consolation was the fight had left them both panting and injured. But it had been clear who the winner was. There was no backing out of the agreement they had made. His time in Nurmengard had been brief. A chance to recover from the duel before Gellert gave him an ultimatum. He could remain free if he agreed to leave Hogwarts and retreat from the Wizarding World. Albus had already known he would leave the school, for certainly he had lost that right when he had failed his students and the Wizarding World as a whole. He had agreed, knowing Gellert wasn't giving him a choice and not agreeing would result in either his death or being imprisoned in Nurmengard forever or the deaths of those he cared about. And so here he was, over a year after the duel. Staring into the fire, sitting beside a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Books had been removed from the overflowing bookshelves, scattered around the room. Some had been read, some he hadn't even yet opened. Plain parchment piled up on the desk. Few knew where he was and so letters came rarely. He had picked some of the fruit and vegetables he grew in a small garden he tended to. Perhaps he would make some jams and chutneys if he could find the strength and motivation. It came sometimes, mixed in with the heavy weight of despair that seemed to fill his waking hours. He had failed. He had let down the wizarding world and now he banished just beyond the world he loved so much. He knew what was happening there, of course. He did his best to learn of Gellerts ongoing plans and rise to power. Without him there, there was nothing to stop him. He knew the few Ministries that still existed moved against him but it wouldn't take much for them to fall. Everything would be lost then and Albus knew he was powerless to stop it. @johamfated

[bluewxrld07]

Heartbeat (Jack Hughes)

Cole Caufield gf! reader x Jack Hughes

Summary: Cole hasn't been the greatest boyfriend while staying at the Hughes' household this summer. What happens when the Golden Hughes boy gets you to himself? (Inspired by Heartbeat by Childish Gambino)

Warning(s): SMUTTTT, Smoking, Shotgunning, Spitting, fingering, p in v, unprotected (WRAP BEFORE YOU TAP), cheating (sorry Cole), choking, roughness, marking

"Get your fat ass off me!" Y/N laughed out with a screech, urging and trying her best to lift the youngest Hughes brother off of her body.

Luke was currently trying to tackle the girl after he's been convinced she cheated in another game of pool, not wanting to admit that she was actually pretty smart at playing the game.

"There's zero chance you just beat me. Twice! In a row!" he says, shooting her a playful pout and glare when she finally got herself out from under him.

"You're just too blinded by your ego to admit someone might be better at pool than you," Y/N chuckled, heading towards the kitchen. "Especially a girl."

Luke just groans and sends her his middle finger, earning a loud cackle from her lips.

She opened up the fridge to grab herself a High Noon for now, grabbed the package of fruit to stuff into the cooler for the boat.

"Will you sauce me a High Noon too?" Luke asks as he walks by her. She happily nods with a hum as she handed him his before shutting the fridge and followed him outside.

The sun was still shining bright, only a few clouds here and there seen in the skies above. It was almost mid-July, the heat now blazing in Michigan, the humidity levels also have risen due to a few rainy mornings at the lake.

Y/N and Luke made small talk as they made their ways down to the boat, seeing the group of boys returning from their little fishing frenzy.

She wore a plain black bikini with a pair of athletic shorts and her Birks, her hair flowed freely as it was still wet from the first trip out on the boat earlier that afternoon.

As the pair approached the boat, the boys all greeted them warmly. "Who won?"

Luke groans and shakes his head. "Don't even ask or it'll go straight to her head." he says.

Y/N rolled her eyes with a playful smirk. "You're just mad you can't learn my ways." she says, earning a swat in her direction as he hopped onto the boat.

Her eyes land on her boyfriend, Cole, the boy hopping up to grab the cooler from her arm. She happily takes the hand he offers her to step onto the boat, going and setting her towel and phone down on the seat. She takes her sunglasses from her head and puts them onto her face.

"Wow the fact that Luke might actually not be the pool champ in the house anymore is killing him," Quinn chuckles while backing away from the dock.

"I just choose to not believe she won so easily. Not once, but twice man! Twice!!!" Luke exasperates, popping open his High Noon.

Y/N settles herself onto Cole's lap per usual, his hand immediately finding her hips to support her as they pull out onto the lake. "I'm just too good, Moose. You should know this by now."

"Yeah, ok." he scoffs as he sips his drink.

"So when do the others get here?" Cole asks, changing the subject.

Y/N's eyebrows furrow. "Others? Who else is coming?" she asks.

Jack nods his head and speaks up. "Ethan and Duke are coming, and then a few of the girls from across the lake are joining. We're going to pick them up now."

"Ashley, Bridget and Mills?" Cole asked, and Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes. She usually wasn't against other girls being there, she preferred it most days because the tester one could be insufferable.

It was because of these said girls they were going to pick up.

Especially Milly. Or Mills as Cole just stated.

There were three of them, and Milly was one of them she didn't get along with as she is one who always has her eyes on Cole. No matter the circumstance.

What makes her more annoyed is that he allows it, letting the girl flirt and touch her way towards him as if it meant nothing.

Each time she would try and call him out for it, he'd get all defensive and state she's "just being insecure". So she finally decided to ignore it, and not care anymore.

"This'll be fun." She mutters lowly, but Cole must've picked up on her comment because she received a slight pinch to her thigh. She turned to face him, seeing the look on his face. "Play nice. Don't start that shit." he orders, making her scoff and look away.

"When do Ethan and Duke get here?" she asks.

"They're gonna be here after sundown. They have a few last minute skate camps to do, and then they're coming out to stay for the week." Luke explains across the boat.

"Yeah, supposedly they're going to be bringing some more stuff too, so we won't have to worry about going to buy more till this weekend." Jack brings up, earning hums and agreements from the group.

Jack also finds Y/N's eyes, points and winks at her. "Also they're bringing you your goodies." he says, making her smirk and perk up in excitement.

Cole's face frowns. "No." he says and shakes his head. "You're not smoking with them."

Y/N's face falls, and she turns back to Cole. "Why? I do all the time, and it's not like I'm in a strange place. We do it all the time back at UMich."

"Dude chill she's in good company first off, and second we're not gonna let her go nuts." Trevor adds.

Cole rolls his eyes. "You're not smoking and that's final. I don't like how you smell afterwards."

"Funny, because I wasn't asking permission." Y/N bites back, earning a low howl from Trevor. Cole just looks at her with shock and annoyance on his face.

He drops the argument but pinches her thigh as if he was warning her, she jumps and sends him a glare. He gives her a look, and she soon just sits there not saying anything.

She listens to the boys as they all converse about the weeks ahead and how next season may go, only turning her head slightly to see Jack's eyes were already on her.

He stares over at her, running his fingers over his mouth as his eyes squint towards her like he is trying to say something without saying anything. She just looks back at him and shrugs slyly, hoping he will drop it and move on.

Before she knew it, she was slightly nudged off of Cole's lap and to the side of him, making her look over at Cole. His eyes were already set on the dock they were now arriving towards, seeing as the three girls were standing there happily waving.

Y/N lets out a huff, poking the inside of her cheek with her tongue. She watches as Cole immediately stands when the boat arrives at the dock, greeting Milly and helping her into the boat. She doesn't hesitate for a second to kiss Cole's cheek, easily making Y/N's eyes harden.

She sits there silently as they get the girls onto the boat, the other two warmly greeting Y/N whom happily greets them back. "Oh," Milly says abruptly, seeing Y/N sitting there.

"I didn't know she was still here." she says innocently, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"Yeah. The girl who grew up Nextdoor to the Hughes' is here for her traditional summer trip. Shocker," Y/N retorts, earning a snort from Trevor and Luke.

Milly's eyes narrow, but soon is turned away from Y/N when Cole comes up next to her.

He guides her over to the seating where Y/N sat, Cole giving her a look. "What?" she asks.

"Can you scoot? Or go sit behind Quinn?" he asks, making her roll her eyes with an amused smirk.

"Seriously?"

Cole just shrugs. "You're gonna wakeboard anyways, so might as well save the upper half of the boat for those who want to chill."

Y/N's eyes widen at his remark, knowing damn well he would be wakeboarding today too. She scoffs. "You sure it's not because you-"

"Come on I'll help you suit up, Y/N. You can start us off." Jack interrupts, coming into view. Y/N looks between Cole and Milly, seeing the satisfied look on her face.

Her eyes find Jack's when she feels him softly grab her forearm, giving her a look as to say it wasn't worth the energy, making her look back at the pair.

"Fine." she says, letting Jack walk with her to the back of the boat as Quinn drives and turns up the music.

Y/N stands at the back of the boat, watching her boyfriend and Milly sit awfully close to one another, his attention entirely entranced by her.

Jack pops back into view with her lifejacket, turning her to face him. "Don't start." he chuckles while he helps her get strapped up.

"What are you talking about?"

"You look like you're going to kill her."

"Well do you blame me? You see how he acts with her, and how she acts regardless if I'm around. It's pathetic really." Y/N says with an eyeball.

Jack's eyes meet hers. "I may be a jerk, but your man is a real dick." he says low enough so she can only hear it.

Y/N sighs at his words, and just nods. "Yeah. Seems like it."

Jack lets out a playful scoff. "Did you just agree that I'm a jerk?" he asks, getting playfully offended. Y/N lets out a smile and chuckles and slaps his chest.

"You are you, so we know how you can be." she jokes, Jack sticks his tongue out at her.

"Yeah yeah whatever, pretty. Head onto the end of the boat so I can help you in." he says, shooing her over to the buttoned of the boat.

Quinn slow the boat down enough so she can sit down and get herself strapped onto the wakeboard. Jack is making sure the board is all in good shape, his tongue sticking out as he focuses.

Her eyes look up at him as she watches him focus on getting her all set in, before he finally looks at her. He smirks over at her. "You've got quite the problem, pretty." he chuckles as he stands up.

"What?" she asks, but she doesn't get a response. He just holds his hands out to help her up which she gladly takes.

He yanks her onto her feet, Jack pulling her awfully close when she's upright. His eyes dart down to her lips for the slightest second, if she blinked she probably would've missed it.

She feels her breath hitch as his hands leave hers and trail slowly towards her hips. She shouldn't feel anyway towards Jack like she does.

Before she can say anything he pushed her into the water, making her give him the finger when she came up. Jack laughs before tossing her the rope and the board.

"You ready?" Quinn calls out, and she raises her thumb up. "Ready when you are Quinny!"

He begins playing the music once again, Y/N making sure the board is secure underneath her feet as they take off slowly.

Once they begin to pick up the pace and she balanced out on the waves, she tosses Jack the rope back and surfs along the water.

This was the part she always looked forward to during the summer, being with her friends on a lake she's come to know so well. It felt like it was engraved into her no matter where she was.

Her eyes focus on the waves below her feet, trying to twist and turn as she rode, hearing chants and encouragement from the guys. She looks up with a smile.

Trevor holds up a drink for her and points at it. "You want?" he asks out, and she nods. "You know what to do!" he says as he tosses it towards her.

She wobbles a bit as she catches it, and nods at them. She puts a finger up to single to hold on, beginning to take off her lifejacket.

Y/N's eyes catch Jack's, telling him to catch it and he nods. As soon as he gets it she focuses back onto the can of alcohol in her hands, trying to create a good divot onto the edge of the can to shotgun.

Once she's got it how she wants, the group counts her down and then she opens the can. As she shotguns and downs the drink, she can hear cheers from the girls and boys.

Jack's eyes follow the drips that leave Y/N's mouth, watching as they trail from the side of her mouth, to the side of her neck and in between the valley of her breasts and down her stomach where her belly button piercing sat perfectly.

He bit his lip, adjusting his lower half as he snaps it back up to her face, watching her smile widely in victory while crumpling the now empty can.

Before she can do anything else, she sees Trevor making his way off the boat and jumps out towards her. "My turn!" he playfully says as he meets her body and they fall back into the water.

When they resurface, she splashes him playfully. Y/N lets out a laugh before flicking him off, the two watching as the boat makes its way around to grab them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was set fully, flames crackling and lighting up the darkness around the group that surrounded it.

Ethan and Duke had finally shown up with more goodies to get through the weekend, the group now sat with drunken conversations and dares going around the group.

Y/N sat by herself, Cole being incredibly occupied with Milly across the fire, hand on her thigh as they talked and flirted. Y/N was so over trying to fight over it, having earned looks from Cole when she made comments throughout the day.

She watched them with a stank look on her face, just frozen in her stare. Watching as her boyfriend just acted like she never existed.

"So," she hears Ethan's voice drag out next to her. She turns to face him. "Heard your little mans over there said no to it, but I hear you kind of need it." he says, holding up a couple of blunts in his hand.

Y/N laughs. "Who told you that?"

He shurgs. "Just a little birdie here."

Y/N smirks at him with a nod. "You know me so well. This is why we're besties Eddy." she chuckles and takes one from his hand to light it.

Ethan grabs the lighter from his pocket and holds it up to the blunt that rests between her lips.

Once he lights it, she takes a long drag from it and her eyes instantly roll to the back of her head in relief. She holds the smoke in her mouth for a bit before letting it fall from her lips.

"Fuck, yeah I did need it." she sighs out, passing it to Ethan who takes a hit. "Yeah I can see that." he says before his head nods over towards Cole and Milly. Y/N rolls her eyes as she watches Milly run her hands through Cole's hair.

"Why aren't you doing anything about it?" he asks, and she shrugs.

"If he truly wanted to stay committed to me, he would. I'm tired of the constant arguing and the backhanded comments he makes when I call him out. I don't want him, the girl can take him at this point." she sighs, Ethan seeing the sadness flash through her eyes as she watches her boyfriend act close with the blonde across the fire pit.

"You should get even." he suggests, making her eyebrows furrow and look at him.

"Even how?" she asks. Ethan hands her the blunt.

"The best revenge is getting even. Not getting mad, or sad or pissed. Even."

Y/N lets the smoke out of her mouth, and nods. "That's true. But at the same time I just want someone to appreciate me. I can't stand doing the one night stands. You know how I get." she chuckles as she takes another hit.

He nods and inhales another hit after her. "Who said it had to be a stranger?" he says, making her whip her head towards him.

She shakes her head and chuckles. "Eddy I love you, but no way do I see you like-"

He shakes his head. "Oh no I totally agree, I wasn't saying me." he adds. "But I know someone here who would happily help you out. Everyone sees it but you." he hints.

She furrows her brows. "Who?" she asks, and he just shrugs.

"You'll just have to pay close attention to find out." is all he says before he gets up and makes his way over to the cooler to grab a drink.

Y/N sits there confused, her attention going back to the fire as she smokes the blunt.

"Careful there, remember what happened the last time you took in a whole blunt in under five minutes." Jack's voice cuts in, plopping himself down next to her.

She scoffs playfully. "I'd much rather get crossed than have to watch that unfold," she motions towards the pair in front of her.

Jack nods slowly, the two sitting silently for a bit as she takes another hit. Jack looks over at her and raises his hand.

"Can I?" he asks, motioning towards the blunt. She nods before handing over to him. He takes one long hit and lets it sit for a moment or two. Then lets it leave his mouth slowly.

Y/N watched him, entranced by how easy he did it. Jack could feel her stare, making him smirk as he kept his stare on the fire in of them.

"You're staring again, pretty." he says lowly, making her shrug.

"Just intrigued is all."

"How so?"

"I don't know why, but it's attractive when a guy can smoke so smoothly like you did."

Jack's eyes flick over to hers, looking down at her lips for a second before finding her eyes once again. "Really?" he says softly, his voice rough.

She nods with a hum, her eyes droopy as she feels the high. "You trust me, pretty?" he asks, and she nods. "Always, J."

He nods back before he takes another big and long hit, turning his face towards hers. He raises his hand and grabs the front of her neck softly, pulling her forward. Y/N's sense heighten at his closeness, seeing his eyes flicker to her lips and stay there.

He takes his thumb and pushes her bottom lip down to open her mouth, slightly leaning forward so their lips were barely touching. He opened his own mouth, letting the smoke leave and travel into her own mouth.

Y/N's head felt so light in that moment, her eyes closing as she took the smoke in from his mouth. "Good girl. So good." he growls, making her insides quiver and a small whimper leave her throat.

Once it all left his mouth, he closes her mouth and backs his face away from hers and takes a sip of his drink as if nothing happened. Y/N stayed frozen in her spot as she blew the smoke from her mouth, turning her head back towards Cole and Milly.

Their eyes never left one another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N couldn't sleep.

She had been tossing and turning all night, Cole sleeping soundly next to her as soft snores left his mouth.

It had been a couple days since the incident with Jack, if she should even call it that. She just hated how much she enjoyed it.

Enjoyed him.

It was the way he made her insides feel, it was something she wasn't used to feeling. He made her feel seen, the more she would think back about their history. How he was always the one there, and how forced it felt when Cole came around.

She sighs as she softly and quietly gets out of bed, not wanting to wake Cole, and opens the bedroom door. Once it shuts softly behind her, she makes her way down the hall and down the stairs.

She heads over to the kitchen and grabs herself a bottled water and one of the leftover blankets brought inside from the fire, before unlocking the sliding door and heading outside. Her eyes get used to the darkness around her, hearing the loud bugs and frogs around the lake, some of the neighbors music softly playing.

Once she gets to the dock, she steps out onto the boat and turns on the speaker system. Once she picks her tunes, she adjusts the volume so it's not loud enough to bother anyone around the area and sits on the back seating portion.

She wraps the blanket around herself, looking out towards the lake that sits as calm as can be, looking like glass.

Her thoughts begin to make themselves known, making her wonder why she let Cole treat her the way he does. Or how he thinks it okay to act how he did with Milly in front of her eyes. Or how he spoke to her when she stated she wasn't;t fond of how Milly acted with him. Calling her insecure and dramatic and clingy.

She tried to let it get to her, letting her thoughts ramble and jumble, soon getting to how Jack has treated her. How he made her stay distracted for the time being, so she didn't have to witness Cole and Milly. Especially with how Jack was making her feelings twist and turn and making her thighs tighten.

Y/N took a deep breath as she felt her face heating up from the thoughts entering her brain of Jack, letting her breaths become shallow as they grew more.

The way she would've let him kiss her hard when he shotgunned the smoke into her mouth. How she would've let him do whatever he wanted to her in front of their friends. In front of Cole. In front of Milly.

Her eyes rolled back when she thought about how he'd feel inside of her. Or how rough he could be. Maybe how he could mark her up so nobody else could have her. Especially the way how nice it would running her hands through his hair as his head ate away between--

"Thought I'd be able to find you out here." a voice interrupted her thoughts, causing her to jump.

Jack's hands go up in defense as he sees her jump from his voice, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. "Easy tiger. Didn't mean to scare you."

She rolls her eyes. "What're you doing up?" she asks.

He takes her legs that were draped along the seating, takes a seat and then props them back on top of his lap as he shrugs. "I couldn't sleep. Trevor's snoring was also pissing me off." he jokes, making her giggle slightly.

"Isn't he in the room next to yours?" she asks, and he looks at her.

"Exactly. It echos more than you'd think." he says, making her chuckle at him. He trails his hand up her thigh and squeezes. "Why're you awake?"

She sighs and shrugs herself. "Couldn't sleep either."

"Does it have to do with what happened?" he asks and she hums with a nod.

"Ever since that night, Cole has been really distant. Or he gets upset at the littlest things I do. He disappears a bit more, and I know he's not going to skate at the rink." she explains, Jack humming in response.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"It's whatever. I just wish he'd break it off already. But he is so worried about you all banning him from the lakehouse for breaking my heart." she shrugs.

"Well he definitely would not be allowed back for a bit, I'll tell you that much."

"Okay but that is also not what I'd want you guys to do. You guys have been friends for too long. Don't be petty." Y/N chuckles, earning an eyeroll from Jack with a smirk.

"He hurt you which isn't allowed here. That's always been our one rule. So that's his fault for not listening."

She sighs. "I supposed," she says. "I just can't stop thinking about what Eddy said."

Jack's eyes snap to hers. "What did Ethan say?" he rushes, making her laugh.

"Woah chill there Jack. Nothing scary," she says. "He just stated he thinks it's now my time to get even with him. No mad, or upset. Just even."

Jack's grip on her thighs tighten, raising higher up on her thighs. The feeling making her insides melt. "Even how?"

She hesitates for a minute. "Like getting even." she emphasizes.

Jack leans closer to her. "Would you? Want to get even I mean?" he asks lowly, and her eyes look deeply into his through the darkness. She'd do anything he'd ask at this point.

"Depends on who's asking." she says softly.

"What if I'm asking?"

Y/N's insides freeze completely. She knew he felt some way towards her, but hearing him ask that just made it ten times more real.

"What?" she stutters, watching as he breaks their eye contact.

"Nothing, forget I said anything," he says and shakes his head, leaning back against the seats. Y/N looks at her lap.

They were silent for a few moments. Y/N then builds herself up enough, and lets confidence take over. Her eyes look over at Jack, seeing his head back against the edge of the seat with his eyes closed.

She takes this moment to sit up, take one leg and place it on one side of his lap while the other stays on the opposite side as she is fully now sitting in his lap looking down at him.

Jack's head pops up looking up at her, eyebrows furrowing. Y/N's hands trail from his biceps, to his shoulders, and finally to the sides of his neck. "What if I want it to be you asking?" she says lowly, her head dipping down slowly to be close to his.

Jack's hands find her lower back, his head raising to lean his forehead against hers. His lips smirking. "Oh, pretty, you don't know what you're asking for right now." he says.

Y/N nods. "If I didn't know what I was doing, would I be be sitting here waiting for you to ruin me?" she whispers, letting her confidence come in.

Jack chuckles lowly, his hands trailing up her back and into her hair to pull her head back. She lets out a sigh at the feeling, his lips making soft kisses upon her neck. "If I ruin you," he starts. "I'm ruining you for anyone else."

She looks down at him. "You sure you want play that game?" he says.

She takes his face into her hand, and squeezes his neck to make him look at her, causing a low groan mixed with a sigh to leave his lips. "I'm all yours, Jack Hughes."

Those words were enough to make a switch turn in him.

He grips her hair harshly and brings her lips slamming down onto his. Their teeth clashing, tongues fighting, soft moans leaving her lips at how good his lips felt on hers.

Her hips get a mind of their own grinding down against the building erection in his sweats, making them both moan against one another at the feeling. Jack's hands left her hair as they kissed in sync, one traveling down to her ass while the other made its way to her throat. He let his hand come down hard onto her ass, making her let out a light squeak as his other hand squeezed her throat.

It made her head feel light at the feeling, causing her head to fall back, his lips attaching to her neck leaving marks in their tracks. "He's going to see how much better I take care of you," he says, biting her neck. "Of how much I can give you," she sighs. "Of how good I can make you feel," his hand comes down against her ass again.

"Fuck, Jack," she moans out and he hums. "Exactly. That's me Pretty."

Jack lets his hand leave her throat, traveling down to her breasts and squeezes them over her t-shirt. "Take this off." He says, helping her remove her shirt.

His eyes immediately fall to her chest, licking his lips as both hands find each breast. Y/N lets out a gasp as he pinches one nipple and caresses the other with his rough thumb. Her hips stuttering as she ground deeply onto him. "They're yours." she mutters out, Jack chuckles darkly.

"Oh pretty," he starts, his eyes looking up at hers. "I know."

Before she knew it, he was taking on nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing over it, causing her whole body to break out into goosebumps. "Keep making those noises for me pretty. Want everyone to know how good I'm making you feel." he hums against her skin.

Her moans and gasps become louder with each mark and bite Jack leaves on her breasts, running her hands through his hair and pulling.

He moans against her chest, his hands guiding her hips as she grinds over his hard erection. She can feel her wetness pooling between her legs, sure enough knowing there's most definitely a wet patch on her panties and his pants. Y/N takes his hair to pull his head up to look at her, slamming her lips back onto his.

When she pulls away she bites his lower lip, causing him to hiss and smirk at her. "Someone's taking the dominance a little bit." he jokes, and she smirks.

"Deal with it." she moans out, and before she knows it Jack grips her thighs to stoop her movements, earning some curses and whines from the girl above him.

"Can't have you thinking you're in charge right now," he says, immediately flipping her to lay down on the seat, Jack going to hover above her, blanket long gone. He uses one hand to pull his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side.

Y/N's eyes follow the shirt being ditched, only to have her jawline squeezed and turned back towards the boy on top of her. "You keep your focus on me." he states.

"Open that pretty mouth, baby," he says, and she obeys. Jack immediately puckers his lips, letting the saliva from his mouth slowly leave his mouth and slide into hers. Y/N happily sticks her tongue out as it slides down her throat, causing Jack to moan out and push his erection into her wetness.

"Swallow," he says, and she immediately lets it slide down her throat and bites her lip. "Fuck. You're such a good girl." Jack says with a smirk on his face.

"You're definitely mine now. Nobody else is going to have you. You belong to me," he says as he lets a hand trail down the valley of her breasts, her stomach and to the line of her pants. "You got that? Nobody else ever gets to see you this way. Cole had his chance." He states.

Y/N nods, causing Jack to take his hand from her pantyline and slap her pussy. She jolts at it, letting out a whimper. "Words, pretty girl." he says.

"Yes. Okay."

He smiles darkly. His hand makes its way back towards her panties, immediately sliding beneath them and finding her clit. She lets out a loud gasp, her head falling back against the seat. Jack's mouth opens at the feeling of how wet and warm she felt, his head falling back as his eyes fell closed.

His fingers slid back and forth between her folds, circling her clit every so often. "Ohhh you are so wet for me, Y/N. I can't wait to feel you around me, fuck." he sighs out, his head looking down to see her mouth open and soft moans coming out.

He can feel her grinding against his fingers, Jack chuckling darkly. "So needy baby now are we?"

Y/N nods, and Jack growls before pinching her clit harshly. She let out a large squeal. Her eyes open to look up at him. "What did I say?" he says lowly.

"Use my words."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't use my words." she moans, and Jack hums. "You do that again and I'm stopping. You got it?"

"Yes baby."

Jack moans, instantly going back to gliding his fingers over her slickness, playing around her hole. "Please Jack. Don't tease. Need you."

He lets out a pout. "I think you need to be teased a little. Especially since you didn't listen to me."

"Jacky please." Y/N begs.

"Fine. Only because I need to have you. Need to feel how tight you are for me."

"What-" before she can finish her sentence, Jack sticks two fingers inside of her. She let outs a loud moan, wrapping her legs around his torso. Jack's lips find hers as he pumps in and out of her roughly, not giving her time to adjust, his lips hiding her loud moans.

"Who does this pussy belong to?"

"You."

"Who?"

"Fuck, you Jack!" she gasps against his lips, feeling a burning sensation building up in her stomach. Jack can feel her hips beginning to stutter, sensing she is getting close.

He suddenly pulls his fingers out, causing her eyes to open widely and stare up at him. Jack gets off of her, ripping her sweats and panties off her legs, then stripping from his own.

He kneels in between her legs, taking in her naked figure in front of him while sliding his hands up and down her thighs. "Shit you're gorgeous, pretty."

Y/N feels her insides melt, her heart fluttering at his words. "Too bad I'm going to ruin you." he says.

She looks up at him. "Ruin me, Jack." she challenges, and it doesn't take him a second longer to decide.

He takes himself into his hand and slides in all the way deep inside her pussy, Y/N letting out a loud gasp followed by his full name. He smirks, before sliding out till the tip is just inside, then slamming back into her.

Y/N's eyes roll back along with her head, Jack sliding his hand up to her neck and squeezing it as he fastens and hardens his pace. Their breaths and moans mix together, Jack taking in the marks along her chest.

She definitely would scold him tomorrow for them, but it would be so worth he look on Cole's face.

Jack lets out a moan at the thought, then taking her throat tighter in his grip to make her head roll back to look at him and he slammed himself deep into her repeatedly. "This was made for me. You were made for me. All mine." he pants out against her lips as he kisses her hard.

"All" thrust "Fucking" thrust "Mine" thrust.

Y/N felt like her head was spinning. She felt like she was on cloud nine. She never wanted this to end.

Jack's free hand traveled down to her clit, rubbing harshly and fast. The sensation made Y/N gasp loud and moan into his mouth, feeling her high coming close. "Jack I'm gonna-"

"Hold it"

"Jack please I'm-"

"You're going to hold it pretty," he growls out against her lips and kisses her. "I'm almost there. Wanna finish with you."

"Finish inside me."

"Fucking shit baby, you're going to kill me." he moans. Her nails glide down his back once more, sure that the marks would be there tomorrow but she didn't care.

"Go ahead, pretty, let it go." He says, his moans and gasps getting more breathless, his hips stuttering as he feels his high reach, Y/N letting her climax finally reach its point. Her eyesight going white for a moment as Jack finished.

A few moments passed, and Y/N is still coming down. The pairs breathless pants being heard, Jack lifts his head from her chest and caresses her cheek.

"You back?" he jokes lightly, making her chuckle as her eyes stayed close.

"I'm back."

"How do you feel?" he asks softly, and she nods. "I'm good. Really good."

"I meant it," he says, his eyes finding hers. "You're mine. Cole lost his chance."

Y/N is silent for a moment and then nods, running a hand through his crazed hair. "I'm yours Jack."

Jack's smile widens and he kisses her softly. "Let's get you cleaned up. You're sleeping with me tonight."

[silentheiss]

Subscription to SHAME Declined!

Shen Qingqiu knows that something is wrong. He doesn’t know what is wrong in particular, but sometimes is definitely off.

He walks just a little slower than usual, Luo Binghe matching his pace at his side easily.

It almost feels like a Without-A-Cure blockage, only it’s not uncomfortable nor does it restrict his wi in any way. Shen Qingqiu also doesn’t think it’s something bad. It doesn’t feel dangerous. So, not like Without-A-Cure at all.

As they approach Qiong Ding Peak, Luo Binghe walks just a little bit closer to him, his warmth familiar and comforting. He smells like spice, incense and crisp winter morning even though it’s summer. Shen Qingqiu feels extremely lucky, for a moment, and as if he could fly without a sword. His husband is the best at easing the tension out of him.

“Binghe smells nice.” He comments quietly.

“Shizun smells the best.” Luo Binghe retorts momentarily.

Shen Qingqiu can’t help but laugh.

“Adorable.” He says. Luo Binghe squeaks, as he often does when Shen Qingqiu compliments him. Not that he manages to do it often, even if he, maybe, would like to.

The Peak Lord Meeting is especially boring this time around. Wei Qingwei is talking about something with a great passion, but Shen Qingqiu can barely hear his account of his new dormitory repair plan. He looks at his husband, who’s feigning interest almost flawlessly. He really is beautiful. His eyelashes are long and thick, fluttering softly every time he blinks. His eyes-

“Shen-shixiong.” Qi Qingqi calls from across the table. “Are we boring you?”

“This one can endure, Qi-shimei.” Shen Qingqiu replies, barely looking away from Luo Binghe.

“Shixiong’s husband just interests him more than this one’s report.” Wei Qingwei laughs mirthfully.

“Certainly.” Shen Qingqiu answers unthinkingly. “Have you seen him?”

Luo Binghe gasps. Everyone in the room goes awkwardly quiet. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t really understand why. He said nothing but plain truth.

“This master didn’t mean to interrupt.” Shen Qingqiu says, even though he didn’t interrupt anything. “Please, continue, Wei-shidi.”

“Shen Qingqiu.” Liu Qingge barks. “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong, shidi. Can’t this one praise his own husband a little?”

“Shixiong!” Liu Qingge snaps.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe cries.

“Shidi?” Yue Qingyuan calls softly.

Why is everyone being so strange?

“Does shizun really hold such a high regard for this one?”

“Wh-! Binghe! Of course I do, you’re a dream come true!”

“Is there a reason we’re talking about Luo Binghe instead of discussing Peak’s performance?” Yue Qingyuan asks, voice carefully neutral.

“Wei Qingwei prompted and this one was bored enough to speak out.” Shen Qingqiu answers, absently patting Luo Binghe’s thigh, hoping to get his shaky breath back under control.

“Does Shen-shixiong always circles back to admiring his husband the moment he loses interest in conversation?” Qi Qingqi sneers. And hey! He thought they were over that already!

“Yes!” Shen Qingqiu says, feeling more and more annoyed. “I thought I said this already!”

“Is shixiong feeling well?”

Aaand, here’s Mu Qungfang. Figures.

“This master feels fine.” Shen Qingqiu says. “But there’s clearly something going on and this one doesn’t think he should stay at the meeting any longer.”

“That may be wise.” My Qingfang nods.

Shen Qingqiu nods and stands up. He’s out of his chair already when he notices Luo Binghe is sitting shock stricken and still in his own chair.

“Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu sighs. “Let’s go home.”

Luo Binghe turns to look at him, eyes glassy and utterly uncomprehending.

“Binghe, let’s go.”

His husband blinks at him, very prettily and very uselessly.

Shen Qingqiu sighs, again, and turns to look at Liu Qingge.

“Liu-shidi, your hair looks very nice today.”

That finally bears fruit. Luo Binghe jumps out of his chair and starts whisking Shen Qingqiu away.

“Sorry, shidi!” Shen Qingqiu laughs, throwing a glance at his red-cheeked martial brother. “I know you hate it, but flirting with you a little is the best way to get my husband’s attention!”

Liu Qingge frowns, mouthing flirting? back at him. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t worry about it.

Once they’re outside, Shen Qingqiu laughs outloud, clinging to Luo Binghe’s arm, even though his husband’s hold is iron-tight as it is.

“Binghe is very hot when he’s jealous.” Shen Qingqiu lets him know.

Luo Binghe whines, quickening his steps.

“In fact-" He starts, but Luo Binghe doesn’t let him finish.

“Shizun, this one is begging you to wait with more confessions till we’re home.”

Shen Qingqiu shrugs, but indulges his husband. Why is his shameless husband is acting so shy all of a sudden is weird, but-

Oh.

Here it is. Shameless. Shame. That’s what’s missing.

Shen Qingqiu has been lacking it severely this last hour at so.

System! What’s goin on?

[Bravo!] System dings cheerfully. [Host successfully uncovered event Subscription to SHAME Declined!]

What?

[Event Subscription to SHAME Declined will finish in 6 hours 23 minutes! Host should enjoy the experience!]

How come I didn’t know about the event? What’s even the objective here? System!

[Host may consider this secret mission a parting gift! Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye!]

With that, System blinks out of existence. If not for Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu would fall to his knees right then and there, but his glorious husband would never let that happen, would he?

“Shizun?”

“I’m good, love.” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, half delirious from relief. He’s free?

“Shizun!”

Oh, right. Endearments. He doesn’t use them, does he? Now his husband is crying out in the open. Poor protagonist’s pride!

It’s fine. Shen Qingqiu can fix this.

“Binghe is very hot when he cries, too.”

They’re in bamboo house in record time. That’s a good thing. Shen Qingqiu has got to placate his husband and tell him all about the System while the event is still going.

[penvisions]

stages of devotion {pink and purple}

Pairing: Younger! Joel Miller x Baker! Reader

Summary: Valentine's Day genuinely drives you insane, but you thrive on it until the energy that surrounds other holidays. And this year? This year you have Joel Miller in your life.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: canon typical language, angst, strained family dynamic, feelings of inadequacy, miscommunication, single dad joel, triggers associated with the food industry, illusions to smut, let me know if i missed any but this is pretty tame

A/N: oops, this is insanely late. but it's done and it helped me through day three of organizing my personal life from my bed, where i'm kind of stuck right now. love y'all!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

Most holidays are made up, or at least so far removed from their historical roots in order to commercialize them for the masses- the jaded thought crossed your mind as you hit submit on a massive order from your main vendor. The espresso sours in your mug, the milk separated from sitting for too long pulls your face into a disgusted frown as you look down into it. It was hours ago now that you made it, your stomach and head telling you it needs caffeine and sustenance; and quick if your headache was any indication.

Holidays were fun and kitschy, brought in a lot of money for the bakery, for your bank account and bills but it was so damn taxing. Three weeks out from the giant pink fluff ball that is Valentine’s Day and the crushing weight of the day sits heavy on your shoulders. But you smile despite it as you shut down the computer set up in the small office, grab your cardigan from

Joel did his best to change your mind on that front with his proposal to find more time for each other in your hectic lives. And it’s been working out pretty well so far. The last two months has been a blur of frantic kisses and coffee runs for the crew here at the shop, of last-minute dates spent eating take out in his truck after his shift ends and before your early bed time.

Another date is tonight, but this time you both share a meal sitting at an actual table and wine poured into large, stemmed glasses. It helps to keep you upbeat for another two weeks, the prep for the holiday pulling you in one direction and a contracted job on the outskirts of the city pulling Joel in another. The memory of the night flits through your mind, your body feeling light and a little warm as you recall the way he hadn’t been able to wait until you up the stairs that leads to further into your apartment…

What you wouldn’t give to see that side of him a little more, the desperate, needy man that is hidden beneath the hardworking, loving, devoted one he is all of the time…

But this week, there’s absolutely no time for anything other than frosting, sprinkles, and batter. Because on Friday, it’s Valentine’s Day. You’ve got a stack of cake orders that equal to one hundred, cupcakes, chocolate strawberries, cookies, fruit tarts, and everything in between. Thankfully you live in the space above the shop, otherwise there would be no way for you and Callie to get it all done. The air in your lungs was more powdered sugar and flour at this point than plain old oxygen, but it’s a small price to pay for the record sales you make every year.

This year, you have a goal in mind for the extra income. The hourly you would normally earn from the week of prep and the day itself- it’s going to go toward helping Joel get Sarah into the summer soccer camp she has her eye on. It’s upstate, the first time she will be away from her father for so long. But the way she went on and on about it at a family dinner with just the three of you, one shared look with the man across the table and you knew you had to help anyway you could to make it happen.

The phone rings just as you place a piping bag down, metal tip on a strategically placed parchment paper to avoid making an even bigger mess atop the cluttered counter. Wiping your hands on the damp towel hanging from the tie of your apron, you reach for it.

“Sugar ‘n Spice, how may I help you?”

“Well, hey there, sweetheart. Been tryin’ to reach you.” The familiar, deep voice of one Joel Miller filters over the line.

“Joel! Oh no, my phone probably died, it’s in the office somewhere underneath the order printouts. I’m so sorry.” Blowing out a wobbly sigh, you realize you can’t see it from where you’re at the counter and lean over to glimpse inside the door.

“No need to apologize, I understand how hectic it is over there. Sarah said it was a lot going on.” You can sense his mood over the phone, tired and a little stressed. You can picture him clenching and unclenching the hand not holding the phone, or rubbing at the back of his neck and digging his fingers into the hair that’s beginning to curl there.

“Yeah, it’s been pretty crazy. Just trying to build the cakes I can and get them in the freezer with a crumb coat. Gonna decorate once they’re all sorted out.” You ramble to try and counteract it, but you know that you’re more than likely just coming off as manic as your voice fills the space of the bakery kitchen over the music you play at a low volume. Callie is out handling the front counter, training the morning person on the specials and how to answer flavor profile questions for everything.

“Listen, sweetheart, I hate to do this to you…” Your heart sinks, voice trailing off as your chest coils tight- Joel’s energy transferring to you over the line.

“Sarah came down with somethin’, had to leave the job site to get her from school. She’s holed up in her room and won’t be able to make it in for her shift later. I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I hope she’s okay, does she need anything? I can make soup or bring over some stuff from here to help cheer her up?” You’re spiraling, you know you are. And Joel’s next words feel like a stab to the gut.

“No, no, that’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got it all covered over here, we’ll get this to break. You don’t need to worry about us,” Your hearing tunnels out, his deep gravely voice distant as you respond to him with deflated words you would not be able to repeat since they don’t really even register past the line clicking off and the dial tone that mimics a flatline on a heart monitor.

It might as well be, because you’re sure your heart just broke at the implication that you didn’t need to worry about the two most important people in your life. Titles and circumstances don’t change that Joel is a single parent, that he takes his responsibility so seriously because Sarah is his lifeline and always will be. Your own father barely acknowledged you growing up, and now that you’re in the food industry he continues in his steadfast ignorance of your existence. Your brother taking the spotlight, the favorite alongside your younger sister who they dote on endlessly. In that moment, you feel like an outsider and an overlooked daughter all in one. And you don’t like it, so you bury your hurt feelings in the frosting bag you refill and continue piping the countless cakes on the speed racks surrounding you well into the night.

A week goes by with no Joel. Sarah out for her three shifts she works after school on the days she doesn’t have soccer practice. You’re trying to unload the pallet that the driver was insistent on leaving in the dining room of the bakery, a new person who you’ve never seen before. Normally, Rick is the one who has the route with your shop on it and he always stays for a cup of coffee and a sweet roll after unloading the delivery directly into the walk in and kitchen for you. You miss him, feeling the weird energy wafting off the new guy and the loss of your almost friend as you want for personal interaction after being alone and holing up in the kitchen- you haven’t been sleeping, and you feel more than a little pathetic. Still.

The phone turned to silent as you throw yourself into the holiday prep, pink and white and red swirling even behind closed eyelids. Just as your cheeks puff with a deep breath and the thud of the last bag of flour onto the stack you keep organized by date, moving the ones just delivered to the bottom, the bell chimes in front of the bakery.

The pressure of the holiday is firmly on your shoulders, people picking up their orders begins in an hour, leaving you very little time to be frustrated with the actions of the new delivery guy. Frosting needs to be made for the last rack of cakes, royal icing for the cookies that people can come in and request names on, chocolate drizzle for the strawberries that are already coated in their shells, but all of it will fly off the shelves, off the racks and through the city until the very second you lock the door promptly at six pm, maybe even a little bit later if people are queued up or last minute pop ins.

Joel hovers in the doorway to the kitchen space, his form filling the empty frame well. He’s got an almost shy expression about him and an armful of flowers while a small bag hangs from around two thick fingers.

“I locked the door, I know you ain’t really open yet.” Is how he announces himself after a moment of watching you move the wooden pallet to lean against an empty wall by the door that leads up to your personal space. You jump and spin around with a hand to your heart, the footsteps thought to be of the man he’s berates with his next words. “Delivery guy left it wide open, didn’t recognize him but he was pretty rude when I said I knew you.”

“Joel!” You place your other hand to the counter in front of you and lean over to gather your breath back, aware of him placing the items in his hands down atop it before they settle on your back in a comforting, familiar gesture.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His voice rumbles over you, so close. Closer than he’s been in the past week, just missed calls and texts checking in with you- knowing you were beyond busy with the shop. “We got your delivery, Sarah is feeling a bit better and scarfed it down quick.”

“Oh, um, good.” You shrug off his hands and stand to your full height, eyes bouncing around- never landing on him.

“Did…did I do somethin’?” He’s straight to the point, knowing that there’s no need to mince words, not when it was you- not when it was him and you together. Clear communication, clear intentions. Or so he thought.

“No, I just- you know what, yeah, you did something,” The bite in your words is sharp, digging into a confused and exhausted Joel. “You cut me out! ‘I’ve got it all covered’. Well, newsflash, Joel, I got it all covered myself. I’ve got an insane day ahead of me, so please, just-just go.”

He says your name, tone pleading as he reaches out for you, but you take a step back, eyes finally landing on him.

“I get it, it’s just you two against the world. I really do, you’re a great father, a good man- of course you are. But you need to please, just…” You trail off as you see the emotions swirl in his amber eyes- the dark brown catching the fluorescents of the kitchen since the sun is still dipped below the horizon.

Joel’s mouth opens, but the store phone rings once and then the answering machine clicks. Your father’s voice fills the tense air, adding another layer of anxiety and weight on top of your already aching shoulders.

Your mother and brother will be by in an hour to pick up some stuff, make sure to set aside some of the better lookin’ things, yeah? Don’t put anythin’ too absurd in the box, you know I don’t like that type of shit. Just plain and simple. You always do too much, stress yourself out for no goddamn reason.

That’s it, that’s the entire message. No greeting, no sign off, no mention of the holiday or your name or that he’s grateful for the free products. Just a command and a chastisement. Because charging your family once, that was enough of a humiliation to experience. The laugher and scoffing, the words ‘outrageous’ and ‘not worth that much’ echo in your head each and every time you input a new price into the computer system or handwrite a card for the display case.

“Go, please.” Your voice is small, but strong. The comparison of the man whose voice just spoke and Joel standing in your kitchen too much to handle right now.

“Okay, sweetheart, I’ll go,” He motions to the bouquet of flowers and the bag still on the counter closest to him. “Those- those are for you, for Valentine’s Day, cause I thought…cause you’re my girl.”

He doesn’t sound so sure, his words rising at the end of his sentence as if questioning it in that very moment, despite the time he put forth in choosing the items. His eyes are questioning too, as he connects them with yours. But all you can offer him is a trembling bottom lip and a tight nod of your head.

He doesn’t ask you to call him and you don’t say that you will.

You’re surrounded by pink even as your heart darkens purple, as if bruised by every strained interaction with your family, aching and lighting up in the way of this…rut with the man that turns around and disappears through the space you’ve created for yourself.

The door is opening before you even raise your hand to knock.

Joel stands there with a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder, the smell of cooking food wafting through the open door. He looks so goddamn hopeful as his eyes rove over your form, straight from the bakery where you had finally locked the door behind the last patrons. Frosting and sprinkles splotch your apron, oil darkening spots on your jeans and shines on your hands as you hold the necklace unearthed from pretty tissue paper and a simple jewelry box.

It’s gold. With the imprint of a tent right in the middle of the flat pendant.

“Joel…”

He’s ushering you inside just as the tears begin to trail down your cheeks, warmth moving up your neck from your chest to burn hot behind blurry eyes.

“It wasn’t supposed to make you cry, it was- it was supposed to make you smile.” He whispers as if berating himself for messing up the one day he promised himself he would make a good one.

“Their hap-happy tears,” Your voice warbles out, hands reaching for him as he turns around from closing the door, wrapping around his neck. You burrow your head into his chest and breathe him, his own coming around you to hug you tight to him. The gold of the necklace is cold where it swings across his neck and dips below the back collar of his shirt.

“Sarah’s mom left the day before the holiday, years ago,” The confession, the reason- it’s muffled where he buries his own face in your hair, smelling the sweetness of powdered sugar and vanilla. A perfume that lingers on your skin from the shop, even on your days off, a part of what makes him so enamored by you. The undertones of amaretto, of cherry- it’s his favorite scent in the world ever since your encounter months ago- a tent and a night of passioned shared between you two. The beginning of the connection you two share, despite everything.

“She always gets a little…melancholic I guess is the right word, this time of year. And with her getting’ her, uh, monthly right before we met- it’s been a tough couple of months for her to see all ‘o her friends turn to their moms for help with stuff she’s goin’ through.”

“I-I didn’t know,” You feel selfish, for feeling the way you do. None of it comparing to the way a child feels the loss of such an important figure in their life, a literal parent- you know all to well how much it can affect someone. Your own mother staying in the car this morning while your brother rolled into the shop like he was the reason it was standing, demanding the things he ‘had to make an insane drive for at the ass crack of dawn’ without so much as a smile or a thank you. Gone in the blink of an eye, your mother not even bothering to look into the bay windows from where she primly looked over whatever was in her lap.

“Not your responsibility to know, it’s…unless...unless you want it to be?” Joel sounds nervous, unsure of himself- such a stark contrast to how he normally speaks. He’s leaning back, large hands moving to your neck as you look up at him, his fingers gently prodding at the sensitive underside of your chin. His eyes are so deep as they scan over your face. A smudge of frosting dried high on your cheek as you feeling a little more than self-conscious.

“Wh-what do you mean?” The words are a whisper. Mind working overtime as you strip his own down to figure out what exactly it is he’s saying.

“If you were…my girl, my girlfriend…we could- we could manage it together. She adores you, asks after you when you ain’t been around for a few days or she’s not workin’ alongside you. She…she wants you in her life mor’n I’ve seen with anyone. But I’m terrified of makin’ more mistakes. Especially with her.”

Your brow furrows, lips thinning into a straight line.

“Mistake?”

“I’m not callin’ this-“ He dips down to kiss you chastely, to calm himself as much as you. “You ain’t a mistake, you’re…you’re everythin’ I’ve never let myself want, she’s been the priority. But I want to be selfish, want you in my life, sweetheart. Permanently.”

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” You confess, memories of half formed relationships bubble up, feelings of being the one that people turn to or ask after when others say no. Of situations that fizzle out in the blink of an eye and never on your account. “No one’s ever asked that of me before.”

“I’m not asking it of you, I’m offerin’ it to you. Lemme be your first, please. I-I’ll do right by you, better than this past week has been, I promise.”

Your heart soars, the weight you carry in it lightening at the earnest way he speaks. And then you’re closing the gap to press your lips firmly to his.

More happy tears warming your cheeks- you’re kissing your first ever boyfriend.

His lips are velvet soft against you, tongue hot where it slips between your own to ignite sparks all over your skin. You moan into his mouth, swallowing the heady sound he makes in response. You’re about to pull him closer when a timer dings and you nearly jump out of your skin.

He parts with a chuckle, hands trailing slowly as he distances himself from you and moves toward the oven. The towel still over one broad shoulder acts as a barrier for his hands as he folds it just so to take a deep pan out of the oven once the timer is silenced. The smell of garlic and herbs fills the space with a fuller sense, and you realize that he’s made lasagna. An offhand comment made a few weeks ago lamenting the lack of a truly good finding in the city.

“Sarah and I put it together, we were kinda hoping you’d be by tonight after the shop closes. But she’s off at a sleepover now, guess she sensed things were a little…strained.”

He doesn’t let you help, instead you’re gently ushered into a chair at the dining table with a glass of wine while he carefully plates up two portions alongside some roasted brussel sprouts and garlic bread. When he finally sits down beside you, he takes one of your hands in his and kisses the top of it, a bashful smile playing at the corner of his lips. His eyes flash to the pendant hanging around your neck, carefully clasped by his own hands before he set to bustling around the kitchen.

“I don’t cook much, so it might be shit honestly, but Sarah got the recipe from one of her friend’s moms. Say’s she was born in Italy and it’s the real deal. Family recipe and all that.”

It’s amazing, but even if it was merely an okay rendition, the fact that he put so much effort into it would’ve made it so. You tell him just as much as you stand from your spot after the last bite and settle over his lap with a confidence that buzzes underneath your skin. Steadying hands grip your hips as you press into him and make out like a couple of teenagers right there in the kitchen, but when you rock once, twice, three times against the hardness you feel beneath the denim of his jeans the world suddenly shifts as he picks you up like you weigh nothing.

His drawling voice dips dirty promises are peppered into your skin with sucking kisses, your excited giggles and whining moans echo through the house as he carries you up the stairs and into his room.

He makes good on every single promise pressed into your skin, until you’re both gasping and panting, bodies spent and limbs exhausted.

Wrapped up in his arms, legs tangled beneath the sheets- warm, safe, and loved for exactly who you are and nothing more or nothing less. You smile as you hear the soft snores as Joel drifts off and shift just a little more securely into the plush bed, because you feel like you could float away. Happiness warms you just as his body does around you and you bite into your bottom lip to keep a giddy giggle contained.

Joel Miller is your boyfriend.

Words that slipped past a gasping breath while he was deep inside you moments before flare brightly, as if branded into the skin of your chest, curved around your heart.

You’re mine, you hear me? Mine.

taglist: @dontknow446 @copperhalfcent @tuquoquebrute @sawymredfox

@mareagirls @insidethegardenwall @wintersquirrel @pastelpinkflowerlife

@yxtkiwiyxt @here-briefly @pedroswife69 @lotusbxtch @amyispxnk

@for-a-longlongtime @burntheedges @tonysopranosrobe @littlemisspascal

@the-mandawhor1an @picketniffler @lizard-zombie @brittmb115

@stevie75 @itwasntimethatdidit40 @wildesights @cheekychaos28

@its-nebuleuse @cas-readsandwrites @punkshort @jessthebaker

@mosssbawls

[rayaswrittings]

Face toward the sunset

Summary: You and your boyfriend had just gotten back from his celebration, drunk and tired—but one thing you knew about Colby, was that he could never keep his hands off you when he was intoxicated.

Warning(s): Drunk!Colby, Mature language, Degradation, switch!dom!Colby, F!ngering, unprotected p in v, breeding kink, praise kink, male!recieving, bruising and marking, the whole nine really.

It felt like you had been carrying thousand pound rocks on your back as you carried your drunken boyfriend through the house. You couldn’t see much and you were only trying to get back to your shared room. Colby was heavy on his feet due to his drowsiness and of course was much more heavy then you.

Colby always got drunk but never blacked out, although Tonight was the celebration for his and Sam’s youtube anniversary and he only let loose this one time. You had a few drinks yourself but you knew he’d end up like this so you paced yourself while he downed drinks like they were plain water.

You had just barely made it once you reached the entrance to your living room and practically pushed Colby onto your couch with a huff. He was laughing but you of course were not, being as you just carried him across the lawn. You made your way over to where you kept the food you had stored and pulled a few things out of the pantry, things that would make him some what full to hopefully sober him up a little.

You of course, wanted to go to sleep but Colby was never that easy when he was drunk. He’s far too touchy for you to even close your eyes without him doing something to wake you up. You poured juice into a small cup and set it on the end table, along with the fruits you were cutting for him to eat, but like always, that wouldn’t last long.

His giant arms snaked around your small frame from behind you and his warm body pressed up against yours, you could already feel the growing erection under his leather pants. He didn’t say anything, only leaning his head down to place sweet kisses to your neck as you continued to cut fruit.

“Go sit down, baby. I’m making you some food” Your free hand reaches back to touch his head but he only hums in response, continuing his movements from before. “Colby, please just eat this for me?” You turn to him once your finished and he’s already looking at you with those half lidded eyes, making your stomach explode with butterflies like you hadn’t seen it before. “Please?”

A smirk pulls at his lips as he walks toward you, pulling your body against his and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His touch was hungry against your skin, fingertips hard against your waist to hold you steady. You gave into him for a small second before pulling away, placing your finger over his lips.

“Eat this and you can get all the kisses you want, Okay?” He huffs but takes the plate from you, sitting down on the chair you had just added to your home. You walk over to where you put your basket of clothes by your laundry room, opening it to pull out a new top to fall asleep in since the one you had on was barely a shirt and quite uncomfortable.

You unclip the straps of the top you had on and let it fall to the ground, working to strap on the new and looser one you pulled out from the basket. After changing your top, you looked for a pair of shorts to slip into that also was loose, your tired eyes becoming far too lidded to think about anything other then sleep.

Just before you could slip into a new pair, the hungry hands your boyfriend possessed pulled you back, turning your body to face him all in under a second. You gasped at the sudden movement, realizing he had pulled you onto his lap while he sat in the chair. “Colbs, I barely have clothes o-“ Once again, he cut you off with a passionate kiss to your lips, wrapping his hand gently around your throat.

Of course you gave in under his grasp like you always did, his lips tasted of the fruit you had given him before and it only drew you more in then you had been already.

But as soon as you felt his tongue slip past your lips, you quickly pulled away.

“Not tonight, colb. Your drunk” You try to reason but he isn’t listening. The two of you had already talked about things like this and while you knew sober him wouldn’t care if you had sex, you still didn’t know if you were completely sure about that. “Let’s just go to sleep-“

“You said as many kisses as I want, didn’t you?” He raises an eyebrow while mocking your words, reaching up to stroke your hair with his gentle fingertips. “Looked so beautiful tonight, can’t believe your all mine” His strong arms pull you close to him so his face stuffed between the crook of your neck, taking in your sweet smell through his nose.

Your cheeks grow hot as you watch his face nuzzling against your body like a cat would do to its owner. You giggled at his movements but he didn’t care, only continuing his actions from before. Your hands combed his messy hair with care, twisting it around your fingers as you hug his head close to you. Colby was always touchy when he was drunk. He needed to be under your skin, only able to smell your scent as he slept.

“Colby!” Your body jolts at the sudden sensation between your legs, his hand that was once laid on your back, was pressed against your cunt. “Colbs, I don’t need-“ His lips are practically attacking your neck with the most passionate and wet kisses you could imagine, a sigh leaving your mouth as you felt the pleasure fill areas you shouldn’t have. When Colby was drunk, he gets extremely horny and practically will eat you alive if you don’t give yourself to him. For some reason your boyfriends hormones are much worse when he’s intoxicated.

He didn’t even need you to please him, he only ever wanted to please you. It was weird because you’d think it was the other way around but not with him. His thumb was pressing against your clit with care, rubbing circles to it while his tongue glides against your skin. His lips brush your ear softly before taking its lobe between his teeth, gently pulling it with a chuckle. “So easy, My love” Your ears flick at his hot breath against you, watching as he pulled his fingers back up between your faces to show you the mess you left covering them.

You watch as he slips his fingers into his mouth one at a time, cleaning them from your sweet slick. His free arm snakes around your waist swiftly, and his face leans up to meet your own in a sweet kiss, leaning his large body against your own to guide you to lay on your back to which you quickly oblige.

“Good girl” He praises with a smirk, trailing kisses down your neck till he got to your bra. “Let’s get this out of the way, yeah?” You hum, pushing his hair out of his face as he unclips the piece of clothing, eyes gluing to your chest. “You are so breathtakingly beautiful, baby. So beautiful” A small laugh leaves your mouth as your cheeks flush at his repeated and slurred soft words and a moan coaxes your throat as he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, kneading the other one between his fingers.

When you and Colby first started dating, you were so insecure about your body for months but now? You didn’t have time to be insecure because he quite literally worshiped your body. He’d place kisses on every spot you hated, and remind you constantly throughout the days how beautiful you looked, especially when you woke up in the morning. He made sure to remind you hourly.

“Always getting what you want, huh?” You huff as he pulls away from your chest with a chuckle, and moving down your bare body. His big hands cup under your thighs and push your legs apart, bending your knees back so your heels were laying against his shoulders. His eyes were strained to yours as his thumb circled your clit, watching your face twist in pleasure. It was a guilty pleasure of yours, honestly. Colby went down on you almost everytime you had been stressed or angry, and you love every second his mouth is attached to your forbidden area. He knew your body inside and out, and it was practically impossible for him to contain himself.

A small but quiet gasp catches in your throat abruptly and you let your head quickly fall back, Colby’s eyes still set on you while he sunk his middle finger inside you with ease. “Thought you didn’t need it?” He teases but your too in awe to care, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Stop being a tease, Colby” you tell him seriously, a smirk pulling at his lips once his name left your mouth. His face lowered toward your center, curling his finger against the soft walls of your insides as the tip of his tongue touched your clit gently. “Come on, Colbs” Your hand is already on its way to his head before you could realize, and you let your fingers roam his soft hair.

He didn’t know if it was just the alcohol or something but you looked so pretty in this light. Of course you always did, but something about tonight was different. You were impatient and whining like a brat but he loved it, he loved making you suffer knowing he was going to make up for it by the end of the night with you under him, begging for more of him.

You let out a semi loud moan once his lips closed around your clit, another one of his fingers slipping into you unannounced. “Fuck” Random curse words were leaving your mouth just to help silence your horribly loud moans, holding your boyfriend’s head close to your body as he devoured every last bit of you. To say you were in love with him was an understatement.

His long fingers were just enough to brush your cervix and Colby always took advantage of that, gently pushing you over the edge till you had been trembling under him. He sucked harshly against your clit as your heels dug against his shoulders, choked out moans escaping past your lips.

Your sweet sounds were music to his ears and he couldn’t help but grind himself against the couch under him, his free hand palming his still growing erection. Your hips wind against his face without your control but he doesn’t mind it, it only made him harder watching you struggle the way you were.

“Baby… Colby please” You beg, almost screaming if he didn’t get you there soon. He never stopped the degrading movement he had against your cunt, letting you do the rest in connecting the two of you.

Your pleasure fills his own body hot and fast, and Colby found himself palming himself harder then before, speeding up his movements against you. He wanted to take his time but you both knew drunken sex was a fast experience out of pure lust, you wouldn’t even know you were done till you laid atop his chest at the end of the night.

“Colby…!” His name rolls off your tongue with ease since you don’t hold back, fingers clasping around his hair as your back pushed off the couch, crying out to your overstimulated clit while you continued to release against him. Colby was flush against you, not pulling away until he was sure he had enough of your sweet taste.

Finally, he lifts his head and pulls his fingers from you, watching as your release drip down them with a chuckle. “Your bad, baby” Your able to see his full face now and you can’t help but giggle, watching closely as he hovered back over you.

“you look good with a beard” You tease, wiping off the remaining release on his chin and around his mouth. You lean up to his lips, brushing them against your own. You could feel his heart beating out of his chest as you move to his ear, letting your hand travel down between the two of you. His eyes widened once your hand wrapped around his painfully hard cock, practically holding back a whimper that threatened in the back of his throat. “Aw, baby… your practically suffering” You could feel the small beads of pre that left his tip urgently, placing soft kisses against his jaw. “However you want it, Mr. Brock”

His eyebrows raise at that name and he almost instantly pulls your face in front of his own, capturing your soft lips in a rough and wet kiss. Your free hand untied his pants before traveling up his back, leaving light scratches against his pale skin. “Want you to ride me” He confesses against your lips and you couldn’t help but smirk, pushing against his stomach gently.

“The balcony” you mumble and his eyes fill with complete love as he lifts you up in his arms, carrying you out of your house and to the big ledge that was connected to your room. You even had a whole bed out there for when the two of you fell asleep watching the sunset. Plus, who wouldn’t want to make love while watching the sunset? Thank god your house was in the darker part, away from everyone else’s.

You watch as Colby sits on the bed you had out there and your eyes catch a glimpse of the beautiful contrasted sunset, a smile appearing on your lips. Colby’s eyes were burning holes against your body, mesmerized in how perfectly your shape shadowed from the sun in front of you. It captured every curve, every freckle that was slowly becoming more visible against your skin, he could fall in love with you time and time again if he kept looking at you like this.

Your attention is fully turned to your boyfriends body, eyes taking in the beautiful man in front of you. His legs were slightly open and his cock sat pretty against his stomach, the sun capturing the shapes of his abs perfectly. His arms laid calm next to his body but you could tell he was getting impatient, shifting every so often which made you giggle under your breath.

You let your knees softly hit the ground before crawling towards him, running your fingernails gently across his thighs till you were sitting right in front of his erection. It was clear he wanted to jump straight into sex and as much as you did too, you wanted to take care of him first, even the playing field a little bit.

“Your evil” His head is spinning from his drunken state and he’s becoming desperate as your grab hold of his length, stroking it ever so slowly with your eyes examining its every vein and shade of white. A lot of woman wouldn’t be so obsessed with this part of their men but not you. Colby’s body was your fortress, one only you could open and make your own.

“Such a pretty cock, baby” The words are hushed into a whisper but his ears fall back and so does his head, butterflies filling his stomach. He wasn’t the only one with a praise kink. His tip was a shade lighter then the rest of his length but wasn’t light, and the width it portrayed made it hard for you to close your small hand around it. “Just hold on a little longer, handsome. Gonna make you feel so good”

His eyes squeeze shut once he feels your tongue glide against his tip, collecting the pre that was still escaping from him. Your tongue is exploring every inch on his length in under a minute, and you can clearly see he was barely holding on above you. His moans were hoarse and grunted, trying his hardest to conceal himself since you had been basically outside.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna come if you don’t—shit!” His body jerks and your eyes meet his, watching his reaction as his balls meet your palm, his cock still buried deep in your mouth like you had something to prove. You knew he wasn’t going to last and that’s exactly what you wanted, you wanted him to feel what you did. “You know I won’t beg you, Y/N but-“

His words only make you speed up your movements, chasing after his high. You could feel him pulsing in your mouth, and his hand reached down to hold the side of your head, more of in a comforting way then pushing you down. He was far too drunk to even argue with you, he just wanted to be inside you now.

And soon enough, he came undone with the loudest whimpers you had ever heard him let out, painting your tongue with the hot spurts of his release. His chest heaved horribly as you pulled away from his length with a pop, his eyes retracing back to your own watching you swallow its remains.

His cock was still painfully hard but you didn’t waste any time on that, moving up on the bed so you’d hover over him, allowing him to capture your lips against his. “Such a perfect little slut for me” He hums, noticing a small bit of his release was still on your cheek. He wipes it with his thumb, sinking it past your lips with a chuckle.

Colby’s large hands slowly slip over your bare hips, waiting for you to sink down on him. His head was between your neck now, attacking it with wet hickeys you knew would leave a mark the next day, a moan slipping from your mouth as his fingers tighten around your skin.

“Come on, pretty girl. I’ve got you” He reassures, taking one side of your butt in his hand, squeezing the pillowed skin as your hands find his shoulders for balance, his tip pressing against your very wet slit. You hold his head against you, letting out a shaky breath as you sunk down on him with ease, that familiar full feeling you were so fond of. Your boyfriend hums in approval and in full pleasure, messaging your skin gently till your body met his and you were fully sat on his lap.

His tip was already brushed against your cervix without even moving, and your walls couldn’t help but clamp over him every other minute. “Oh my god, Colby” you pull his hair back as you lift your hips with the help of his hands, watching his eyes fall onto your own.

“That’s it, just like that” Your bodies become so close once you start, faces barely even an inch apart but you didn’t kiss, you wanted him to watch you. He reached undeniable heights inside you, bruising up your skin just to help you move your hips. “My good girl—fuck, you do it so good”

Soon your movements sped up quickly, and holding onto his shoulders didn’t help at all, you had to place both hands on the wall behind him just to gain stability. Your boyfriend watches you in awe, as if it was his first time seeing you this way. Your hips grind against him the way he loved while your head fell back into the air, the both of you becoming slightly sweaty already.

Drunk sex always felt way too good but usually it was faster and much sweatier, this felt far too different. Even if your hips moved fast against his, it still felt like everything had been in slow motion. The way his hands held your delicate body in his embrace as he thrust his hips up to meet your own, how his lips parted in anticipation to kiss yours, Colby was so hungry for you—his body, was hungry for you.

“Gonna come, Pretty girl?” As if your whimper wasn’t enough to confirm his question, the way your hips moved way faster against his with your walls effortlessly clenching around him was definitely enough. Your body was calling for release and he could see that, coaching you through it with the simplest of words.

His hand leaves your hip and attaches itself around your neck, pulling you down to his face so your lips would crash into each others. His tongue instantly slipped into your mouth through your moans, holding your hips down so he could hit your deepest areas. Your high was approaching fast and he could feel it corrupting you, sitting up with you in his arms so you were literally sitting in his lap.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you can’t help but pull away from your boyfriend, throwing your head back as you rode him faster then before, nails digging against the skin on his chest. “Colb- fuck!” Your whimpers and moans are only motivating him more, the friction between the two of you was almost unbearable.

His large hand cups the side of your face and all that can be heard is the sound of skin slapping against another, your moans echoing the forest like a mockingjay’s song. “Come for me, dirty girl. Talk to me, Baby” His voice is husky against your ear and it makes your body completely feral, leaning your sweaty forehead against your boyfriends when you feel the pit grow in your stomach.

“Oh, Colbs” You moan breathlessly against his face, pushing his hair away from his eyes to look at him. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I-“ He ceases your rambling with a sweet kiss to your lips, reaching down to rub your clit between the two of your bodies.

“I love you far more, My good girl” He hums against you and watches as your eyes roll back, you were so close—just barely tipped over the edge. “Now come for me so I can turn you over and fuck you like you’ve been wanting for the past week” With only a few last circles against your clit and strokes to your dripping cunt, you came undone harshly against his body, gripping onto his shoulders as you let out the most beautiful cries he’d ever heard.

Your body shutters against his and all that could be heard now was the breathing between you two, his hands reaching up to caress your face gently. “Fucking hell, what alcohol did we drink” He chuckles, kissing the tip of your nose.

Both of your eyes traveled down between the two of you, noticing the puddle of liquid you had left on your boyfriend’s abdomen. You always got so embarrassed but he found it so attractive, he wanted you to give him that validation.

“Hands and knees, Face toward the sunset” You slowly remove yourself from your boyfriend, turning your semi-weak body toward the orange sunset, doing exactly as he requested. You had no idea how you were so worn out but the feeling of his hands against your back were enough to bring you back to reality. “That’s it. M’gonna sort you out baby, don’t worry” His voice is low behind you as he pushes his length against your slick, coating it in more of you.

“Your teasing…” you push back against him eagerly, earning a small chuckle from his lips as he leaned down, hovering his body over your own. His hands lingered over your body as he placed soft kisses along your shoulder before moving to your ear, taking it between his teeth. His body was so warm against yours and you could feel yourself getting hot all over again, leaning into his touch.

“If you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?” He questions cockily in your ear and you roll your eyes, pushing your arms out in front of you so your back was fully arched for him. The boy chuckled, pulling your hair away from your now fully exposed neck so he could access it, his free hand reaching down to line himself up with your slit. “Keep doing that, and you’ll wake up pregnant” You hum against the bed with a smile, Oh how much you wanted that.

“What if i wanted that?” His large hand clamps over your mouth as he continued to place kisses along your body, ignoring what you had just said. You were both drunk but he was sober enough to know this was just your alcohol talking.

“Ask me when your sober, My love” Some of his words are slurred but he speaks all the truth, removing his hand from your mouth and to your neck, tilting your head till he could kiss your lips.

Your breath is taken from you when you feel him slip into you all at once, and you quickly pull away from him with a gasp and your fingers squeezing the cloth under you. “Your so… fuck—your annoying!” He chuckles, reaching down to pull your hips closer to his own, already stroking you at a steady pace.

Your body moves with every slow and passionate thrust, and a soft moan comes out with it. Colby is loving above you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear with that husked accent of his. “I’ve been thinking about this all. Fucking. Week” His breath his hot against your neck as he speaks, you could feel the sweat between you two and the heat you both shared against your connected bodies.

Usually, the two of you would have a date night on Tuesday’s every week but this week was so hectic you didn’t have any time to do so. You and Colby would spend the night just holding each other, loving each other. Without date night, you two didn’t have any time to yourselves other then when you’d go to bed.

“Then why are you going easy on me? You know I love it when your rough” You know your words will tease him in a way he’d give in and that’s exactly why you said it. Usually the two of you would make love during sex, but you were so tired of that now. You wanted him to treat you like you were some random girl—a slut. “Lost your touch, pretty boy?”

“Lost my touch? What are you saying, Y/N” You could tell his words were with content and not worry, and you knew now that you had him right where you wanted him. “Are you saying I can’t fulfill your needs?” You giggle and push yourself into him even more, earning a small groan from his lips. “Dirty girl, you are playing a dangerous game”

“You know what I want, Colbs. So give it to me” His hand is clasp around your neck, tilting your head back till you could look at him with those big doe eyes you loved to tease him with. “That’s all you want, right? To please me?” Your eyelashes bat at him without your control, watching as his eyes slowly turned into voids. You had him now.

He didn’t even have to speak, only staring into your eyes as he pulled out of you, pushing back in with force and intent. Your eyes roll back and your body jerks up with every thrust he sends you, ten times harder them before. Your hands reach back to hold onto him but it only pisses him off, grabbing your wrists to cling together in front of you. His body was practically inside your own, laying on top of you while pinning your hands.

Your moans were much, much louder now and you couldn’t control them. He was hitting every little area in your body, one’s you didn’t even know you had. His cock wasn’t just kissing your sweet spot, it felt like it was the easiest spot for him to access and everytime he’d hit it, your body would shake under his. “This is what you wanted, right? Me to fuck you like your some whore? Ha. Can’t believe you said I lost my touch” He chuckled in your ear, biting the soft skin of your shoulder. You were begging now, so fucking desperate for him.

“Yes! Fuck, this is what I wanted. Wanted you to fuck me how you used to!” How he used to? Great mother you should’ve never said that.

“How I used to?” Of course your words make him rethink and come back ten times harder, lifting his torso from you to pull your hands behind your back, earning the loudest whimper from you. “That’s okay, my love. I’ll give everything to you now, and don’t even think about coming till I say so” there he was, your teenage fever.

It looked inhumane the way he was treating your body. From the way his hips snapped into yours, to how he held your hands right behind your back, and how he pushed your face into the bed to muffle your very loud moans. But it all felt way too good, this is exactly what you wanted and you knew he was the only man who could fulfill it. You never wanted him to stop.

“Right there! Right fucking—oh my god” You were so close to your edge it was torture. You were practically begging him to let you come before you had to, you knew you couldn’t hold it much longer. “Colby, I can’t… I’m— fuck!”

“You better hold it” He threatens, pushing your arch deeper. You let out a cry and his boyfriend reaction was more then enough to slow down, reaching down to your neck to pull you up against his body. Your head fell lazily against his chest but your reassuring eyes told him everything he needed to know. “Safe word, pretty girl?” You shook your head and grabbed his, pulling his face against yours in a rough kiss. He wasn’t hurting you, he could never hurt you.

“I need it, Colbs. Please just give it to me” From the second his teeth sunk into the delicate skin of your neck, to when he started to send slow strokes to your body, you felt yourself lose control and the only thing keeping you up was his hand wrapped around your stomach. You couldn’t take it, the pleasure was far too much.

He can feel your undeniable orgasm approaching and so was his, and at this point he couldn’t hold back anymore. His teeth remove from your skin, tongue swiping over any blood that escaped from your neck with his heavy breath beside you. “Look at you, taking my cock so well. Fuck, m’gonna come… want you to come with me. Can you do that for me?” You nod desperately, moving your hips against his to meet his rough strokes. “Touch yourself”

Your limp body is heavy in his arms as you reach down, rubbing circles against your clit at the same speed of his thrusts. Your moans and begs only grew louder, and Colby was on his very edge. “Doing so good for me—Come, pretty girl. I’m right behind you!” His coaching words make you cry aloud, holding onto his body for support as you felt your orgasm slowly tipping over its end, rubbing your clit. faster to chase that high. “Just one more, baby. Need you to come so I can fill this pretty cunt nice and full just like you wanted”

“Colb—fuck, fuck fuck! I’m… Mmph! I’m coming!” He continues to coach you to it, and with one last snap of his hips and circle to your clit, you felt your body release it’s everything onto his. He shushes your loud scream while silencing his own grunts, fingers digging into your hips to pull you close, painting your gummy walls with his white, hot release.

All that was heard was your heavy breathing and the sounds of birds chirping in the air, and you soon found yourself collapsed next to each other on the bed. Your chests were heaving horribly, and the sweat that drip from your foreheads were now everywhere. You were so tired.

Colby turned to look at you, smirk pulling at his lips at the sight of all the marks and bruises he had put on your body—ones you enjoyed having to cover because he gave them.

“Watch the sunset with me?” Your eyebrows raise slightly and his face softens, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Ending the night like this was perfect. It was almost as if you had just gotten back from date night. He leans down gently to place his lips against your own, relishing in the taste of your sweet lips.

He lays back and places one of his arms above his forehead while opening his other for you, watching you with a smile as you cuddle your naked body over his. Your head is nuzzled between his neck and your legs are shuffled with his own, the light of the sunset reflecting off your skin. Colby grabbed the blanket from behind you and pulled it over you both, laying his large arm over you once you were comfortable.

“I’m still so fucking drunk” He sighs making you laugh while you drew imaginary shapes along his chest, leaning your head up to kiss his jaw. “We can sleep now” You roll your eyes with another laugh, imagining what it would’ve been like had you actually went to sleep when you told him to earlier.

“I love you, Pretty boy” You hum, hugging his torso. He looks down at your already relaxed body, leaning his face down to kiss your head.

“I love you way more, My beautiful girl”

[daycare-care]

FNAF themed activity set!

Coloring pages

Activity sheets

Quests:

Freddy’s Showtime Set-Up

Story: Freddy’s going on stage tonight, but the band’s stuff is all missing! Quest:

Gather toy instruments or draw them.

Line up your plushies like a band (Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, etc.).

Put on a mini “concert” — dance, sing, or play a music video for them.

Extra: Make tickets or posters for the show!

Bonnie’s Guitar Hunt

Story: Bonnie lost his favorite guitar backstage! Quest:

Hide or draw a guitar and “find” it by checking rooms (closet, under bed, behind pillow).

Each place gives a clue to the next.

Celebrate when you find it!

Chica’s Pizza Party Planner

Story: Chica is throwing a pizza party and needs your help! Quest:

Draw or craft a pizza with paper or felt (add toppings!).

Make a snack version (mini bagel pizzas, crackers + cheese).

Decorate a pretend party table for her.

Extra: Invite plushies to the party!

Plushie Night Shift

Story: You’re the night guard… but the animatronics are just lonely. Quest:

Use a flashlight and check on plushies in different “rooms” (pillows, shelves).

Tuck each one in or give a hug so they stay happy.

Finish your shift with a star sticker or a little reward!

Extra: Use a clock or timer for each “hour.”

Pirate Cove Cleanup with Foxy

Story: Foxy’s cove is messy from all his treasure hunting! Quest:

Find 5 “lost treasures” (toy coins, buttons, shiny things).

Clean/tidy a small play area or shelf with Foxy.

Build a treasure box from a container or cardboard.

Extra: Make a pirate map to track where things are hidden!

Mini Pizzaplex Missions (Security Breach Style)

Story: You’re helping Glamrock Freddy protect the Pizzaplex! Quest:

Pick a mission card (draw, find, build).

Examples:

“Fix the arcade machine” = Stack blocks or tidy toys.

“Sneak past Monty” = Crawl quietly across the room.

“Recharge at a station” = Snuggle under a blanket!

Extra: Use a flashlight or toy camera for pretend security gear!

SNACKS AND DRINK RECIPES!

🍕 1. Chica’s Mini Pizzas

Inspired by: Chica the Chicken (queen of pizza!)

Use English muffins, mini bagels, or tortillas.

Spread on pizza sauce, cheese, and toppings (pepperoni, olives, veggies).

Bake until melty!

Little Twist: Cut into shapes with cookie cutters if you want star or heart pizza!

🍪 2. Freddy’s Fudge Bear Bites

Inspired by: Freddy Fazbear

Use chocolate pudding or fudge.

Top with whipped cream and bear-shaped cookies (like Teddy Grahams).

Add sprinkles if you like!

Alternative: Make chocolate Rice Krispies shaped into little bear heads!

🍩 3. Glamrock Sprinkle Donuts

Inspired by: Glamrock Freddy & friends

Plain mini donuts or donut holes.

Dip in frosting or melted white chocolate.

Cover with colorful neon sprinkles.

Add a Star: Use edible glitter or star sprinkles for that pizzaplex flair!

🍫 4. Moon Drop Popcorn

Inspired by: Moondrop (Security Breach)

Pop popcorn and mix with a little melted white chocolate.

Sprinkle with blue and silver sprinkles or edible stars.

Let cool to harden slightly.

Optional: Add mini marshmallows or cereal stars for a dreamy vibe.

🧺 5. Bonnie’s Bunny Munch

Inspired by: Bonnie the Bunny

Trail mix with pretzels, bunny grahams, raisins, chocolate chips, or pastel M&Ms.

Mix it all up in a bowl or mini snack bags.

Pretend Play: Package it as “backstage bunny snacks” for plushies!

🥤💫 FNaF-Themed Drinks

🌈 1. Freddy Fazbear Float

Root beer or cola

A scoop of vanilla ice cream on top

Optional: chocolate syrup swirl on the rim

Little Idea: Use a striped straw and call it “Freddy Fuel!”

🧃 2. Chica’s Party Punch

Lemonade + a splash of fruit punch or strawberry soda

Add fruit slices or gummy rings

Serve in a cup with a party hat sticker!

Sugar-Free Tip: Use flavored water and fruit instead.

💙 3. Monty’s Gator-Ade

Lime or blue sports drink (or Kool-Aid)

Ice cubes with gummy worms frozen inside (optional!)

Name it “Monty’s Swamp Juice!”

🌙 4. Moondrop Milk

Cold milk or oat milk

Add blue food coloring or a drop of vanilla

Sprinkle edible glitter on top

Nighttime Cozy: Serve in a cup with a moon or star sticker. Great before bedtime!

☀️ 5. Sunrise Smoothie

Orange juice + banana + yogurt

Blend until creamy

Add a straw and a paper sun cut-out on the rim

Sunny Tip: Call it “Sun’s Power Potion” and drink it during playtime!

[clannfearrunt]

Hi I'm spitting out biology (and a liiiiitle bit cultural) musings more of them. These guys are actually terrestrial holothurians (sea cucumbers). I'm putting my stonks into echinodermata we have to believe in their Powers to evolve new and exciting shapes.

The people who keep symbiotic fish in their tentacles call themselves Anemones, while the ones that reject the fish as parasites and wear shell-like hats over most of their tentacles call themselves Nautilus. In the modern day there is an increasing population of those who consider themselves neither of these things but due to the history of these two cultures there isn't a widely accepted colloquial name for the species as a whole.

They're not cnidarians so they don't possess stinging cells, but they produce a thick venomous mucous from their tentacles that causes paralysis and inflammation on contact for various other animals. They evolved as social ambush predators that would jump on their prey and slather this mucous over them to subdue them. Their ideal diet is like 60% meat and 30% fruits, with bonus whatever the fuck else they feel like eating as a treat.

The venomous mucous may have been what initially started the Nautiluses' practice of covering most of their tentacles, along with protection from the sun and aerial predators. They have a long history as a multi-species people, and keeping contact venom just exposed around your loved ones without resistance to it is just plain dangerous. These days it's more of a visual identification and religious thing though.

These guys don't have real eyes, but are covered in light sensing cells all across their skin. They have shit visual acuity and can't see very far, but they're usually aware of the general silhouette of large objects a few feet around them, and are sensitive to movement. The Anemones, at least, formed a symbiotic relationship with a species of amphibious fish partially due to them being able to see farther and with higher acuity and warn them of things they might not have picked up on by themselves.

There's a lot of in-universe debate over the exact intelligence of the clownfish, but the average seems to be kind of parrot-like, with occasional exceptionally intelligent, probably sapient individuals. They're hard to study, because they're usually extremely shy towards other people, plus Anemones tend to develop a very strong bond with their clowns that skews their perception of what their own fish is capable of. In the modern day the relationship between Anemones and their fish is largely religious rather than out of any real practical necessity; the Anemone religious hegemony considers these fish as one half of a full person, and places an extreme importance on maintaining this relationship. This is usually fine and what ever, but can place Anemones and clownfish alike into difficult situations when the relationship is unwanted or cannot be maintained properly for whatever reason. It's also the reason Anemones and Nautilus have historically considered themselves separate, often rival species; the presence of the clowns or lackthereof have been considered mutually repulsive and a sign of something being deeply Wrong about the other group.

Most terrestrial holothurians are small, trundling insectivores, but there is one large species these guys share a close evolutionary relationship with. The dropbear are solitary, arboreal ambush predators that used to share much of their range with Anemones, but are currently critically endangered in the wild. Anemones, with their very low visual acuity and poor sense of smell, have a very hard time distinguishing dropbears from members of their own species. It's thought the need to tell friend apart from foe is what drove them to develop complex vocal capabilities.

Side note the Example Anemone here is wearing an extremely hastily designed example of traditional Anemone accessories; they didn't have a nudity taboo and actually prefer to keep most of their skin uncovered so they can see, but they enjoyed wearing accessories with tactile or audible elements built into it. Beads were often placed so they'd click together when moving, and combined with knots in the cords were often arranged according to their traditional system of cord "writing" so that people could read each other's clothing.

These guys support themselves on land through an endoskeleton made up of a network of mesodermal ossicles and catch connective tissue. When threatened, they can dramatically loosen their skin and let a predator or perhaps a guy easily tear off whatever part of their body they've grabbed, allowing for an easy getaway with relatively easy wounds to regenerate. This easily gooped skeletal structure does make them very prone to fatigue though. It was fine, because they're ambush predators. They were just supposed to be sitting there most of the day. Please.

[inloveinsickness]

❝ STRAWBERRY KISSES ❞ — hinata shoyo (18+)

cw: MDNI, f!reader, post-timeskip!shoyo, fluff but alludes to smut (non-explicitly), established relationship, aftercare, non-sexual showing together, suggestive | wc: 1.2k

there is nothing more secure and anchored than being loved by hinata shoyo

masterlist

if there’s one thing that shoyo loves, it’s the sight of you laying beneath him breathless and spent, soft and pliant atop plush white sheets, the strands of your hair tangled between his fingers earlier now fanned out like a halo. you’re a little slice of heaven on earth, his angel.

the dazed, love drunk look on your face in post-coital bliss never gets old, and he lets his eyes trail over your features and sweat-slicked skin, needless to commit to memory — he already knows every part of you like the back of his hand, basking in a beauty that’s uniquely yours, and only his to see.

the faint light from outside seeping through gaps in the blinds highlights his tanned cheeks in its airbrushed pink, and you can’t help but bring a hand up for a featherlight touch, grazing the smooth plains with a small, tired, but no less genuine smile and affection swirling in your eyes. he's only gotten more handsome as he got older, past his awkward fumbling teenage years and now with a newfound confidence since returning from brazil, he glows with happiness, self-assurance and in this moment, simply love.

you always thought he looked attractive on the court, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and hair disheveled, and it rings true even now in bed with you.

the hand cupping his cheek snakes around the back of his neck, gently guiding him down to meet your lips in a delicate, unhurried exchange. he readjusts his position from above you, taking some weight off with a quiet grunt and settling next to you, taking you into his arms again, lips still connected through it all. his calloused hands caress your sides and pull you in by your waist, craving once again the closeness of skin on skin as you melt against his sturdy frame.

it’s warm, sticky and sweaty, but in the moment, neither of you can be bothered to care, chasing the warmth of connection and each other as your bodies tangle above the sheets.

what little that’s left of your strawberry lip balm leaves a lingering taste on his tongue and he can't help but go in for seconds, addicted to your lips and the burst of sweetness that follows. it's like biting into the ripe juicy fruit, just one is never enough.

it’s slow, gentle and tender, pacing unurgent and languid as your locked lips dance a well versed number, every movement familiar and effortless, like a choreography perfected over time and practice, and a graceful melody leaving you wanting more.

inevitably pulling apart for air, shoyo rests his forehead against yours, not before gently blowing the strands of hair sticking to your skin and feeling the walls around his heart crumble for the nth time at your airy giggle, the sound akin to a cupid’s arrow, shooting right through to his soul.

“you okay, princess?” he whispers lowly, and with your nod, your eyes flutter shut in content and the comfort of his embrace, “you’re so damned cute, so pretty like this.”

basking in the afterglow, you nuzzle your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, hand resting against his bare, damp chest and feeling the thrum of his heartbeat pulse against your palm. it's steady and sure, stable and constant, much like the nature of his love — he is the embodiment of passion and excitement, but there is nothing more secure and anchored than being loved by hinata shoyo.

“you wanna stay here for a little longer, or shall i run the bath?” he softly mumbles against your temple, hands gently tracing shapes into the small of your back. you faintly make out the outline of a heart gliding across the dips and curves and can’t help the smile that graces your lips, feeling a matching one pressing into the side of your head.

“mmm a bath does sound nice right now…” you trail off, lips murmuring against his neck and voice clouded with drowsiness.

he huffs in amusement, your breath tickles as he slowly sits up with you still in his faithful hold. picking you up with ease, you’re light as a feather to him, he walks to the bathroom and plants you on the counter to sit while he prepares, your legs dangling and swinging back and forth.

you take the time to admire the broad expanse of his back. he’s grown quite a bit since his years in high school, once small and lean, now sculpted and defined by muscles that speak of his discipline and hard work. his short life in brazil and current pro-league training did wonders for his physique — he’s faster, stronger, in more ways than one if your soreness has anything to go by.

this is a far cry from the first time you slept together, but the tender loving care after never gets old. shoyo may slack on doing the dishes or laundry from time to time, but never in a million years when it comes to you. he’s precise and methodical in his movements, he’s done this countless of times before after all, but he never lets himself get too familiar — being able to love on you is a privilege he will never let himself forget.

the water soon stops running and he stretches his hand out, helping you down the counter and keeping you steady on your feet as you step into the tub, "careful, i got you."

he follows suit, settling behind you and you happily lean back against his chest, his hand resting on your tummy and rubbing soothing circles under the water. it’s a peaceful and comfortable quiet, the only sounds being soft breaths and the water shallowly rippling with his ministrations.

“sore?” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, barely above a whisper and causing goosebumps to rise on the surface of your skin.

you hum in response, resting your head on his shoulder as you sink even further into his frame, the warmth of the water and his body enveloping you in a little bubble, safe and comforting. keep this up and you could fall asleep right here and now.

he takes advantage of his current position behind you to litter your neck with kisses, occasionally nipping and sucking at the supple skin. “mm don’t start something you can’t finish, sho.” you say this, yet you’re still leaning into his sensual touches and tilting your head to give him more access, sleepily whimpering his name so prettily, dripping with honey.

your pliancy and the lack of resistance on your part spurs on another wave of desire in him and he takes it as a cue to continue, painting the untouched spots of empty canvas and leaving faint purple bruises in it’s wake as a mark and declaration of his love. you're always so trusting, so receptive of him. only for him.

you may not be able to see the shit-eating grin on his face but you can sure as hell hear it in his voice and feel it as his chuckle vibrates against your pulse, sending shivers down your spine.

“are you challenging me, meu amor?”

taglist. open (link to form) @koton @shouyuus tagging you two as promised ♡

networks. @the-all-stars-network @houseofsolisoccasum

notes. writing this made me feel things... also crazy how i started this draft in SEPTEMBER jfc

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[cmdrfupa]

After Hours

Far too cold and clinical for a place that stocks fresh fruit and warm bread.

There are only a handful of other shoppers left: one woman comparing labels on oat milk, a man in a wrinkled shirt wandering aimlessly near the cereal aisle. No one looks up when Nanami walks in. He prefers it that way.

He pulls a folded shopping list from his coat pocket. The handwriting is neat, concise. He keeps it on paper out of habit, not necessity.

-Eggs. -Yogurt. -Soba noodles. - Bread. -Baby spinach. -Lemons. -Coffee (whole bean). -Toothpaste. -Something sweet (optional).

The front shopping cart wheel squeaks on his first turn. He considers swapping it, but doesn’t. There’s no one around to be bothered by the sound, and he won’t be here long.

The aisles are orderly enough, though a few things are out of place. He eyes a lone box of instant curry nestled among the pasta sauces, a child’s mitten abandoned beside a stack of tangerines. Nanami notes them absently. He doesn’t fix them. It isn’t his job.

At the produce section, he inspects the spinach like he’s weighing an argument. Some of the small bunches were too far gone to try and salvage. Some just slightly wilted on the leaves edge. Still salvageable. It goes into a reusable bag, not the flimsy plastic ones provided. He’s not sentimental, but he is particular.

The bakery counter is closed, lights dimmed and display case empty. But on the clearance rack near the end of the aisle, a three pack of kouign-amann sits in a plastic container. He shifted his weight, looking at the tips of his shoes before looking at the price sticker on the container.

30% marked down due to “damage”. He hesitates. And not because of the state of the sweets.

He told himself no sweets this week. But rules, like hours, sometimes bend.

He places it in the cart without looking directly at it, as if doing so would make it harder to justify.

When he reaches the coffee aisle, he takes longer. He runs his fingers along the bags of beans like one might trace the spines of books in a quiet library. Dark roast, low acidity, ethically sourced. He’s memorized the labels by now. Still, he reads each one again.

A soft announcement plays overhead, reminding shoppers that the store will close in fifteen minutes. He glances at his watch. He’ll be out in ten.

The self-checkout machines were mostly empty, save for one humming stubbornly at the far end, flashing a red light while a teenager in an apron tapped at its screen with visible boredom.

Nanami chose the furthest terminal, not out of preference, but habit.

He wheeled his basket to the terminal carefully. Each item was scanned with practiced precision, placed in the repurposed paper bag according to weight and fragility. Lemons on the bottom. Bread on top. coffee slid in sideways, tucked just so between two containers of plain yogurt. Not because he particularly enjoyed yogurt—but it helped him with hitting protein and calcium, was healthy, predictable in flavor, kept well, and helped regulate his bowel movements.

‘I’ll buy some peaches from the fresh market this weekend to pair with it.’

He went to grab the soba noodles. As he swept them across the scanner, it misread the barcode. He didn’t sigh. He simply tried again, adjusting the angle, then again—until it beeped with compliance. He moved on.

"Please place the item in the bagging area," the machine chirped.

He had.

A brief pause. Then: "Unexpected item in the bagging area."

Nanami stared at the screen for a beat longer than usual.

It wasn’t anger. He didn’t feel anger. Just… the cumulative weight of small inefficiencies.

A store attendant noticed and began to approach, but Nanami waved a hand along side a nod—a duo’d, understated motion that communicated I’ve handled it without so much as a glance. He adjusted the placement of the baked good. The error disappeared. He continued scanning.

When the machine asked if he had any coupons, he pressed No without hesitation. He typed in his cellphone number so the digital coupons could automatically deduct from his purchase instead.

His total came to less than expected even with the baked good. He paid in exact change, a relic of preference rather than necessity, and folded the receipt once before slipping it into his coat.

He did not take a bag. His own was already full, the shape of it well-balanced as he lifted it into the crook of his arm.

Behind him, the machine chirped a cheerful Thank you for shopping with us!

He didn’t respond.

Outside, the air is cooler. A breeze lifts the hem of his coat. The bag digs into the crook of his arm, heavier on one side from the loose lemons and toothpaste multipack.

---

The drive home is short. Eight minutes, if the lights favor him. Eleven, if they don't.

Tonight, they're indifferent. Two reds, one green. A flicker of yellow he chooses not to test. He waits. The engine idles with a low hum, headlights carving out a hollow path on empty streets.

His hands rest on the wheel at ten and two. Always. Not out of fear as he was a good driver, cautious without being hesitant—but because order has always helped him think.

He doesn’t listen to much music. Doesn’t need the noise. He once tried jazz, then ambient piano. They made him feel as though he should be feeling something, and that expectation was more exhausting than the silence. So he settled for NPR. Monotone voices and up to date topics. Acceptable car noise.

At a left turn, he signals even though there’s no one behind him. It’s not for anyone else. It’s just the rule.

He parks in his usual spot, parallel to the curb in front of his building. The streetlight above flickers once. He watches it, then grabs his grocery bag, evenly balancing it as he walks to the front door.

His apartment is clean. Not sterile. but intentionally minimal.

Shoes off at the door. Coat on the hook. Keys in the ceramic dish on the entry table.

He unpacks the groceries in silence:

Lemons in the hanging fruit hammock. Spinach into the fridge. The crisper drawer, right side. Eggs beside the butter. Yogurt on the top shelf to the left next to his milk alternatives. Soba in the dry goods pantry. Coffee beans next to his coffee grinder on the far corner of the counter. Toothpaste in the bathroom drawer, beneath the extras. Everything has a place.

The kouign-amann sat alone on the counter, its plastic container a soft crinkle in the quiet.

He stares at it for a moment.

‘You didn’t need them.’

The thought isn’t harsh. Just… matter-of-fact. Like reading a label.

But there’s another voice, quieter, less disciplined. One that sounds suspiciously like a colleague he never sees anymore. ‘You also don’t need a glass of whiskey yet you aren’t matter of fact on that. What’s the point of working yourself to death if you don’t enjoy the little things?’

He opens the container. The pastry is imperfect. Slightly smushed on one side, the caramelized sugar clinging to the ridges unevenly. Still, he can tell it’ll be good. Flaky. Rich. Brief. A sweet treat.

He puts it on a plate. Doesn’t warm it up. He’ll have it with a glass of cold milk, the way he did as a child, before his father taught him that indulgence should be discreet, if not rare.

And after his mother taught him that indulgences are mini celebrations for making through a tough day.

‘It has been a tough day.’

He doesn’t sit. Just leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely as he takes the first bite.

The sugar sticks to his teeth. The butter melts on his tongue.

He chews slowly.

You didn’t need it, he thinks again.

But he swallows, takes another bite, sighing at the small hint of delight it brought him.

“You needed it. You’ll survive, Kento.” He breaks his own silence with his low voice.

He taps his toes on the granite floor as he takes the last bite of his kouign-amann, washing it down with the bit of milk he had left before dusting crumbs off the counter and into the waiting trash receptacle at the edge of his island.

-----

He washed the plate and glass immediately.

No dishes left in the sink. No excuses in the morning. The water runs warm over his hands. He dries them on the cloth towel hanging by the sink and folds it back neatly.

The bathroom light is soft, almost golden. A small luxury: warm bulbs. The mirror reflects him in half-shadow as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves before he prepped for his shower.

Mildly scented soap, a balm for immediately after to avoid dry skin, blonde specific shampoo to help with the hair dullness he’s noticed the last few months.

‘At least its working. Makes the grays blend better.’

A plain, navy sleep shirt and gray sweatpants awaited him. No logos. No fuss.

He starts with flossing, then rinsing with mouthwash, and ended off with brushing his teeth with practiced, exact strokes.

Skincare is quick, unsentimental. Foam cleanser, glycolic acid, alcohol free tonger, hyaluronic acid, then a thin film of moisturizer rubbed in with his ring fingers after it has all absorbed into his skin. He wasn’t one for vanity. But he was one for maintenance. Like oiling a blade.

The bedroom smells faintly of clean linen and the faint citrus of whatever detergent he buys in bulk. The bed is already turned down. He does it in the morning, One less step between him and rest.

He sets his alarm to six am though he rarely needs it to wake up.

Then he reaches for his book: Red Rising by Pierce Brown. 30 minutes to read.

He’s too into the plot and that almost went out the window.

His phone is placed face-down on the nightstand. No doomscrolling. No headlines. No excuses. But tonight, he lets his thumb hover just a moment longer before locking the screen. Making sure to have his phone on do not disturb.

A notification glows softly. Its from you:

Goodnight Kento! can’t wait for our date tomorrow. Sent just now.

He reads it twice. Not because he didn’t understand the first time, but because it’s rare. The feeling of anticipation, without the dread. Company, without exhaustion.

His thumb taps out a reply, short but sincere.

Kento: Rest well. I’m looking forward to it, too. See you tomorrow.

He watches the screen dim and turns his phone down on the nightstand.

The room is quiet.

But his thoughts, just this once, are quieter than usual. Still present. Still layered.

Things he didn’t say. Things he saw today that he’ll pretend not to remember tomorrow. But softened by something else.

The idea that tomorrow around this same time, he’ll be out at a late night movie on a rooftop rather than being tucked in.

‘It’s a good change. A great one.’

Not hope, exactly. Something older. Quieter. Like the memory of warmth, long after the fire’s gone out.

He lies back, pulling the blanket over himself in a single motion. And when he closes his eyes, sleep finds him a little faster.

[frederickkittens]

Sweet Lolita through the years

Part 1: Late 90s-2005 (ish) “Oldschool”

Oldschool sweet is the first truly recognizable form of sweet Lolita

Though during the Oldschool era the substyles had far more crossover and less individual traits I think there’s just enough that you still label coords from the time. When most people think of Oldschool they think of a solid color main piece with lace topped otks and a rectangle headdress… but Oldschool is so much more than that.

Oldschool in general was simpler, though some brands like Metamorphose Temps De Fille , Emily Temple Cute, and baby the stars shine bright were already making prints

Printed fabrics of fruits or florals were very common, but you did see a good amount of screen printed and appliquéd pieces coming out at the time too. Some very common sweet motifs in the oldschool era were:

•cats

•fruit

•alice in wonderland

•bunnies / rabbits

•bears

•alphabet / letter prints

•music notes

•hearts

The closer to the end of the identifiable oldschool era the more prints became popular! Though through most of the 2000’s prints would remain more minimal with the focus being on more structural elements like lace, bows, construction, and interesting fabric choices.

Due to the image limit on tumblr here’s a link to the correct sorting to see examples on lolibrary with examples of some early sweet prints and patterns. If you click the link on any of these items you’ll be able to view their lolibrary entries as well if available

Color balance wasn’t considered as highly as it is today, the overall vibe of Coords was more chaotic and experimental. A very make do attitude can be seen in many street snaps.

Patterned main pieces were another popular alternative to prints, things like gingham, stripes, tartan/plaid.

Bag choices were pretty varied, honestly in a lot of oldschool sweet coords people would use unique bags as the visual interest / focal point. You can already see that in someone of the coords above. Faux leather shaped bags like btssb’s heart bags weren’t very popular yet. A few brands had put out heart bags, such as milk, but they were much simpler and often real leather in limited colors. You also didn’t see usakumyas in their modern iteration until well into the 2000’s towards the 2010’s. Plush bags of the era did not have the same clean marketable look. Some common / popular bags were:

-basket / wicker purses

-plush animal bags

-tote bags

-matching fabric bags

-leather handbags

-designer handbags

Shoes at the time were much chunkier and much less cutesy even in sweet styles. Tea parties didn’t exist until a good deal past this time period- honestly most popular modern Lolita shoe styles weren’t really seen. Real leather was far more common, in a much more limited pallet. When you did see colored shoes they typically weren’t used to color balance a coord like we do now a days. A lot of different styles were worn though, including:

-Mary Jane’s

-Platforms

-Rocking horse shoes

-Boots

-Oxfords

-sandals

Socks are often overlooked in oldschool. I’ve seen so many people say printed socks weren’t worn even though they absolutely were and many brands made them. Sure, lace topped otks were the trend and the most popular option but simple motif printed socks absolutely existed and were worn!

Headpieces were one of the most varied category. So many different styles and kinds were worn.

-mini crowns

-hair ribbons

-hats

-bows

-canotiers

-mini hats

-lace headdresses

Jewelry / Accessories were one area that Oldschool definitely was simpler. However brands were absolutely making both jewelry and other accessories. Plain metal necklaces with various motifs were common, lace chokers, faux collars, capes, ties, and though extremely uncommon you do sometimes run across wrist cuffs. Hopefully there’s more of an effort to start documenting jewelry and accessories from this time since it’s quite lacking

Makeup and hair were something that like all eras of Lolita followed the over all cultural trends of the time. More minimal make or simple 90’s - early 2000’s makeup is seen often. As for hair there’s so many different styles that really it would be impossible to list them all. In older magazines there’s often sections with hair tutorials and makeup tutorials!

Common lace styles included Torchon, Cotton, Eyelet, and Raschel. Many different trims and such were used in addition to these.

Part 2 and part 3

Scan credits @obscuredesireofbourgeoisie

If you want to see more old magazine scans

Lolita history

Internet archive

[starrvsn]

﹙ SHOW/FANDOM ⠆911﹚

PAIRING ⠆eddie diaz x single-parent!reader

CATEGORIES ⠆fluff, baby’s first words!, single-parent!reader, brief mention of choking, a kind of what are we situation, lots of plot for no apparent reason. not canon to the 911 timeline!

OVER THE INTERCOM ⠆i got a little carried away with this one but ive been so obsessed with this show i just needed to write something, so please enjoy!

𝟒𝟏𝟏. your finally shares her first words and it’s nothing like you expected, based off a prompt that says we’re friends and my child’s first words were your name… i’m jealous but also endeared.

you had met eddie when addison was six months old– he responded to a call where your baby was choking on a carrot that you had thought was soft enough to eat, thankfully they had gotten there quick enough for eddie to perform the appropriate heimlich to retrieve the piece of carrot stuck in her throat. whilst they had your daughter overnight at the hospital, he had visited you. partically to see if your daughter was holding up okay, but mainly for you. he knew as a father himself how hard you must’ve been on yourself and offered to take you out for coffee as comfort, share silimar experiences which lead to a blossoming friendship.

eddie was always there for when you felt misguided in parenthood, always there to lend a shoulder and give you advice you needed whilst he was still figuring out how to be a good father to christopher. addison and chris became fast friends as well– despite her being a toddler and chris being fourteen, he looked after her like a sister, reading books to her and looking forward to the days you’d drop her off sometimes when you didn’t have a sitter, it was almost like a little family and you were content with that.

now, addison is almost a year old and has been growing up wonderfully. eddie was there for a majority of her milestones, when she started crawling and beginning to stand on her own and almost taking her first steps. you and eddie were on blurred lines, whilst you appreciated him being there for you and you’re daughter, you both knew getting into a serious relationship or even putting a label to things was tricky, still navigating so many changes in your lifestyle and his, it was easier to just call yourselves friends.

eddie and chris are over are you apartment today for your regularly scheduled sunday breakfast, something you made a tradition after you grew paranoid with feeding addison on your own, so in order to ease your worries eddie offered to come over every sunday to make sure breakfast would go swimmingly. at first he came on his own but then started bringing chris after a few weeks, claiming he had fomo– which was just a coverup because chris knows about you and wanted to meet you, but eddie didn’t want you knowing he talks about you, especially to his son. in those five months you’ve all gotten closer– seeing christopher slowly mature over that time and seeing his closeness with addison, it was something you didn’t want to ruin.

it was a nice sunday morning, so you decided to eat outside on your patio, there was a slight breeze but the sun was warm enough to keep the chill away. you’ve got the full spread of a classic breakfast: plates full of pancakes, fruit, bacon and scrambled eggs, a perfect breakfast. addison is sitting at the head of the table in her high chair, you’re sat next to her with eddie and chris across from you. you try your best to give addison the food your eating so she doesn’t feel left out, which you know she does, her emotions developing and finding out clearer way to express herself. on her plate are bits and pieces of fruit and plain pancakes cut into smaller, digestible pieces– even now you still check with eddie to make sure they’re not too big, not that he has ever minded.

the morning air is light, filled with laughter and passing stories about chris’ new crush or what’s been going on at school, eddie talking about the squadron– their calls and a little chismes about their current qualms outside of work. you laugh and react to their stories, it would be a lie if you didn’t enjoy them– your job was quite mundane but kept you stable so this was something you looked forward to before the busy week ahead of you.

eddie is mid sentence talking about bucks recent dilemma with tommy when addison lets out a loud babble and slaps both palms against the tray of her high chair.

“foods good huh, chiquita?” he hums to her endearingly, nodding along to her babbling, an endearing smile gracing his face. it was hard to not imagine eddie becoming a father figure to addison, he’s a great father to chris and bonds so easily with your daughter, it’s selfish and a crazy thought but is something that has crossed your mind for than once.

“addie’s has been talking a lot more recently, hasn’t she?” chris chimes in, looking over at addison who’s picking up another strawberry. i remember when you started talking eddie reminisces, going on about how his first words were when he’s was on deployment and wishes he was there to witness it.

you hum, thoughtfully. lifting your napkin to dab a smear of syrup from the corner of addison’s mouth. “she has, i’m waiting for the moment she says her first words.” a part of eddie wishes he could be there for it.

breakfast continues, more jokes and stories were shared with addisons babbling reactions in the mix. then, addison starts babbling again, less random this time. more focused. insistent.

"dee... da... eh-"

your eyes snap to her immediately, chest tightening just slightly because you've been waiting for this moment. her first real word. you've been expecting "mama." hoping for it, really. eddie's already chewing on a bite of pancake, looking over at her with soft eyes. chris, mid-sip of orange juice, sets his cup down carefully.

the moment stills as you daughter tries to find her footing, she’s been saying sounds that sound like words but not quite there, this could be the moment though. you all watch her with bated breath, no way of telling if her first words will come from her lips. then addison turns to eddie. waving her chubby hand at him and beams.

"eh-dee!" the table falls silent, eddies eyes are already on you trying to gage your reaction. your mind is blank, you never expected her first words to be his name, not even mama, not even chris’.

she then looks at you, big bright eyes as if she’s awaiting your reaction. you clear your throat, sitting a little straighter in your seat. “that’s right baby, that’s eddie right there isn’t he.” addison flashes a gummy smile at you, nodding at your words, smart little girl. postive reinforcement! reguardless of her first word, at least she got there in the end and makes it clear as day. chris is next to react, breaking out into a loud, shocked laugh. "no way! did she-? did she just say?"

"eddie," she says again, a little more proudly this time, her tiny voice clear as day. "eddie!" you look at eddie, who seems to be in more shock than you, his eyes like a deer caught in headlights, his jaw dropped a little. it isn’t until you brushed your foot against his under the table, he shifts, eyes finally focusing to you. his are wide, soft, apologetic all at once.

"she-uh," he clears his throat, setting down his fork. "she said my name."

"yeah." your voice comes out smaller than intended, a touch breathy. "yeah, she did."

addison claps, giggling like she's solved world peace. your heart squeezes.

"i didn't teach her that," eddie says, like he needs you to believe him. "i swear. i always call myself tío or just talk about 'your mama' when i'm with her—i never-"

you wave a hand, the corners of your mouth twitching. "no, i know. i believe you. it's just.." you glance at your daughter, cheeks pink and eyes so happy. "i thought it would be me, you know? or even chris. not-"

"not me," eddie says quietly.

your eyes meet again. the air between you shifts, heavy with something unspoken. but neither of you address it, just push it aside for later, shifting your mood to the fact it was addisons first word, praising her endlessly, ignoring the swirl of warmth in your stomach when she babbled eddies name when he took her out of her high chair.

later, whilst you’re cleaning up from breakfast, now early afternoon. christopher is sitting snuggly on your loveseat, he’s enthusiastically reading to addison, making silly voices and sound exaggerations to make the story of the little red riding hood more entertaining.

you and eddie are doing dishes. he’s washing while you’re drying. it was silent at first, neither of you knew what to say. how to approach this conversation, hey my daughters first word was your name what does this mean? this was not something you read about in your guide to motherhood books. you couldn’t even form appropriate words without giving anything away. eddie knew it would lead to other unanswered things to your friendship that sometimes seemed more than what it was. eddie was content with what you had going on but lingering in his mind knew he wanted more, you wanted more.

it was just difficult to approach, you didn’t want to overstep or mislead. you never really settled on what your friendship had turned into, afraid of shifting your dynamic into something awkward and that would lead to being distant then into being out of touch and away from each others lives which neither of you wanted. if the conversation needed to be had, it was now.

eddies the one to break the silence “well, that was unexpected,” he murmurs, addisons little voice ringing in his head, he felt so delighted and warm when she has said it, it was a moment he wanted to experience with chris and it just so happened with your daughter, that’s evidently not his.

“…very unexpected.” you cough, picking at the threads of the dishtowel. unsure how the lead the conversation. the silence stretches again, this time a little less heavy, a little more expectant. like the moment is gently asking you both to be brave.

“but it wasn’t unwelcome, i didn’t think it’d make me feel so much.” he adds, glancing at you sideways, his voice barely above the hum of christopher’s animated storytelling in the background. “it did though, hearing her sweet little voice say my name…made me happy.” dishes are long forgotten and his soapy hands stand at the edge of the basin.

“yeah…” you trail, “made me happy too, just don’t know what happens now.” your throat feels tight, not in a bad way just anticipating his words.

your hands clutching tightly on the rag, eyes focused on the pattern away from his gaze. he pauses, turning to fully face you. his hands grasps yours, giving them a gentle squeeze. as if begging you to look at him. you slowly turn to him, your body before your head– gazing at him through your lashes.

he looks at you, really looks, like he’s searching for something in your eyes that’ll give him all the answers. his eyes are soft, with something raw and vulnerable he only ever shows in quiet moments like these. "i know we’ve been walking this weird line for a while now. friends, but sometimes it feel like we’re more than friends. you’re important to me. and addie—she means a lot to me too. maybe more than i realized."

you don’t look away. your heart thuds loud in your ears. "i’ve thought about it," you admit softly. "more than i should. i just didn’t want to ruin what we have. what we’ve built. it’s been safe. and good."

"it still can be," he says gently, moving your hands close to him, moving closer, closing the gap between you. "just... maybe with more honesty. more intention."

"you think we could make it work?"

he smiles then, a more meaningful one. "i think we already are. we just haven’t admitted it to ourselves yet."

you glance toward the living room; addison is squealing at christopher’s overly dramatic wolf impression, clapping her hands, her joy bouncing off the walls of your little home. it feels warm. like family.

"i want to try," you say, voice steady now. "not for her. not because of today. but because i want to. because you’re the first person i feel like i don’t have to pretend with."

he leans closer, as if telling you a secret only for you to hear. his big brown eyes boring into yours. "i’m not perfect. i’m still learning. still messing up." he means it.

"so am i," you say with a soft laugh. "but maybe we can figure it out together."

"yeah," he says, moving his hands to your waist and into a hug, cheek against your hair, it warm and content, like secret promises and new beginning "together sounds good."

just like that, everything you had been worrying about, are washed away and into something more, something real and worth it.

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