#Best Outdoor Motion Lights

[aumos]

The benefits of motion sensor lights that we have been highlighting since our origin because the evolution that we envision to bring about in this industry is actually all about apt optimization.

[toolreview68]

The best dusk to dawn motion sensor outdoor lighting is the one that solves the problem in a very creative and innovative way. As a result, it has a higher chance of being accepted by your customers and becoming part of your daily routine.

[silverskye13]

Silver's Care Guide for the Impulsively Inclined:

Hi, did you just receive bad news? Are you one of the many many people who, upon receiving bad news, react with self destructive spirals, or lash out in a need for control? Are you just really fucking sad, or angry, and would like an alternative to hurting yourself and others? Are you just feeling a little manic or impulsive?

Welcome to my handy guide for alternative (self) destruction! These are alternatives to physical and immediate harm to your person. That does not necessarily mean they are safe, just safer, and they are all things I've done before to mixed results. With that in mind.

Remember the golden rule: if what you're doing cannot be fixed, repaired, or healed within an hour, don't fucking do it. You have one body, and one life, and regardless of what your thoughts say in the moment, that body and life is necessary for your future happiness. Prioritize yourself; harm objects instead.

Alternatives to harming yourself or others:

Kick something loud. A tin can. A plastic bag. Take it to an outdoor space and see how far you can kick it, and how loud a sound you can make. If you have multiple objects to kick, listen to the differences in sound. How one thing sounds hollow and another rattles.

Kick something soft. A pillow. A hackey-sack. Take it to an outdoor space, or kick it against a sturdy wall (I recommend brick or stone). Listen to the sound of the batting, or the beans. See what shapes you can get it to land in, and how deep a divot your foot can leave.

Tear paper. Get a cheap notebook, some old bills you don't need, note cards or old magazines. See how big of pieces you can make. Put several sheets in your hand and see how thick the paper can get before you can't tear it anymore. See how thin of strips you can tear. Experiment with folding it into shapes and trying to tear along the lines.

Do a very small controlled burn. Newspaper, a cheap notebook from the dollar store, a handful of old homework assignments you don't need, a candle, etc. The best objects are ones made to burn such as matches or candles. In lieu of that, focus specifically on paper, as it will have fewer chemicals/fumes that can damage your lungs if you inhale smoke. Take it to a well ventilated place, the floor of a concrete garage, your driveway, an empty lot or sidewalk. If you have a burn barrel or fire pit, use it. If you have no access to any of these things, make the burn very small [less than half a page at a time] and confine it to your sink. If your building has automatic sprinkler systems, don't do this. Light one edge of your paper on fire and watch it curl. See if you can burn small, individual poke-holes in the page. If you are lighting a candle, watch the wax melt. See if you can light one match using another. When a match is used, try and burn what's left of the stick. If you want some extra catharsis, write a person you hate, a source of your angst, or just general thoughts on the paper you're burning.

Throw rocks. Go outside and touch grass -- and look for rocks while you're there. All sizes are fair game, but the bigger they are, the harder they are to throw. I recommend something the size of a marble. Gather a number of rocks and throw them one at a time, trying to hit targets like trees or fence posts. If you can find a convenient body of water, throw them in there and listen to the splash.

Skip rocks. Skipping rocks across the top of the water can also be a fun challenge to use your aggression on. For skipping rocks specifically, you want a stone that is smooth and flat. Hold it between your forefinger and your thumb, and throw sideways in an arcing motion. You are trying to get the rock to spin. The combination of the spin, and the force, and the flat side hitting the water, causes the skip. I average 3 skips per stone. Beat my average. My Papa, who taught me, used to routinely get 5-7 skips. Beat him after you beat me.

Play a violent or fast paced video game. Most people have games on their mobile or console devices these days. Pick something quick, with low investment and high reward. Shoot-em-ups and arcade games. Something with a number that ticks up, and stock zombies you can kill. Try to beat your high score, or aim for an exact number. My lucky number is 13, so I will often try to score a number that's a multiple of 13.

Break glass. This one requires some investment to do legally and safely. Note: I am not telling you to throw rocks at people's windows or vandalize property. This is an alternative to those things. Find or obtain (I buy mine at Michael's for $10) some glass panes. They can be multicolored if you're feeling fun. Cover a pane in an old sheet or the plastic bag you bought it in. With a thick soled shoe or a rubber mallet, smash it. Try to make fun shapes with the pieces. Listen to the crunch. Keep a broom and dustpan ready, and make sure you have dedicated time to clean the mess. There is nothing worse than walking barefoot through a room and cutting open your foot.

Smash pumpkins, guards, watermelon, etc. Exactly what it says on the tin. Grab your murder-able vegetable of choice and a weapon (stick, hammer, sword, axe, etc) and go wild. Make as big a mess as you can. I mean absolutely destroy that fruit. If you aren't covered in the blood of your prey, have you really won? Take a long shower afterwards, and wear clothes you don't mind staining. Too depressed to clean up the mess? It's fruit. The local wildlife will thank you. Though if it's summer, you may get ants/bees.

Switch a tree. Find a switch. If your parents never made you pick your own switch, congratulations. If they did, you know exactly what you're looking for. Grab a stick, something green and flexible and long -- whip like. Go to the tree you wish to switch, and smack the shit out of it. You can also do this to bushes. Try to make the whip-crack noise, listen to the whistle of the branch through the air. See if you can take the individual leaves off a branch. Smack the shit out the tree with your switch until the switch breaks. If you're still feeling angry and impulsive, rinse and repeat.

Alternatives to moping sadly / wallowing in self pity:

Write a list of things you enjoy. This is just to remind you that you do have joy in life, actually. Focus on finding the smallest things possible, the ones that are truly niche to you and you alone. An example for me would be the strange purple-red color your veins take on when bright light is shining through them. I could stare at that color for ages. I'm talking really strange, personal joys. The way a sharpie brand pen clicks. How saying a word too much turns it into not-a-word. Make a list of those things.

Find a favorite texture and run your hands over it. Over and over. Obsessively. If this texture happens to be a pet, all the better! If not, that is also fine. My favorite texture is running my fingers through my hair when I've put hair gel in it. The feeling of detangling it with my fingers, all the sharp brittle hairs loosening into softness again, is the most cathartic in the world. Close second is my fingernails on very cheap construction paper, the pulpy stuff they give to kindergartners. Pass your hands through the texture until it loses its allure. Listen to the sounds it makes when you run your hands across/through it. Smell it, and smell your hands after you've touched it. Rub it on other parts of your body, like your arms or your neck. Try to pick it up with your feet.

Eat your favorite food. I don't give two shits about calories. This is comfort. If you don't have access to your favorite food, or it is too hard to cook with the energy levels you have, get the closest approximation you can find, or get your second favorite. Eat it slowly. Try to pick the tastes apart on your tongue. Make obnoxious noises while you eat, or eat it in a way you normally wouldn't. Eat ice cream with chopsticks. Eat soup with a butter knife. Lick pudding off the tines of a fork. Use your hands I don't care. Slurp out of the bowl like a dog. Pretend you're a caveman. Get stupid and silly. It's food. It's food. It's food. Enjoy every moment of it!

Tell a friend how awesome they are. Pop into their inbox and ask them about their day. Call them and ask for five minutes of their time. Invite them to dinner. You don't have to get super heartfelt if you're scared of being weird. Just say "Hey, have I told you you're awesome recently? Because you are." Be prepared to list at least one reason why.

Go cry about it. Seriously. In the words of my boss, "Sounds like you need to drink a bottle of wine, put on the saddest episode of your favorite TV show, and have a good sob fest." Crying is a releasing of built up chemicals in your brain, which is why people sometimes cry when they're happy or pissed -- you've got too many emotions inside and you need to literally put them outside. So if you're feeling the Miseries and need a quick release, give yourself a reason to cry and go for it. And I'm not talking like, tasteful wife mourning her husband lost to war with a single stoic tear down her face. Get ugly. Sob your eyes out. Scream, and wail, and thrash. Pretend you're an Irish widow who's just lost her child to famine and dirge. Lament. Do that thing in the Bible where people are so upset they tear at their clothes. When you're done, breathe, and breathe, and breathe again. That feels... Better. Doesn't it?

Listen to calming music, or sing/hum a song. This one might just be a me thing, but it is hard to be truly miserable when there's a soundtrack playing in your thoughts. This works best if the music you're listening to has no words, and is calming. We are not looking for sad mixes on YouTube. We are looking for lofi, and orchestra, and rainy mood. Something to dampen thought, not enhance it. I like putting on rain sounds and humming as I walk through my house. It lets me take action while still providing background noise I can rely on.

And that's about it, I think. I hope! My scattering of thoughts can help you! Or at least get you thinking about what works best for you. Feel free to add your own thoughts in the comments and I will try to reblog them!

Remember: we are prioritizing the safety of self here. This is to curb impulses for self harm, and self destruction, and the harming of others. Above all else, stay safe.

You've got this. I believe in you.

[tacitoru]

Gojo wants to try your cherry lip balm.

He tracks the slow, methodical slide of the balm against your chapped lips and licks his own. 

Back, forth.

The east coast sun is oddly sweltering for a spring afternoon, but Satoru has been taking the swift change in weather to stride. More than happy to strip down to basketball shorts with his bare back warming to the sun. To be on a court outdoors, where he feels like he’s got a little more room to breathe.

It makes him excited for summer, when the semester would be over, the season behind them, a little more free time on their hands. He wants to check out the beach on this side of America. See if the ocean is as blue as his jerseys like his host university claims. Barbecue and bikinis, shaved ice and sunscreen. He can practically taste the saltwater taffy if he closes his eyes for long enough. After a long winter, the sudden heat wave feels like a blessing. 

Had felt like a blessing.

Back, forth.

The motion is practiced. Instinctive. It’s like you hardly notice you’re applying the salve, staining a darker shade of red with each pass. But you definitely notice him noticing.

“You’re staring.”

“I’m not!”

For a lumbering mammoth of a man, Satoru boasts a pout that would put the cutest three-year-old to shame. The rebuttal is immediate, slips out before he even has the decency to glance away while denying it.

You give him your best glare over the line of your shades and cap the cherry-red Chapstick with a sharp snap! nonetheless. Roll your mouth to spread the balm over evenly, then gesture for him to gather his things. Satoru’s eyes struggle to leave your face as he scoops up his duffle bag and basketball. He’ll obsess over the motion of your lips, pursing and unfurling over your teeth for days.

Your bottom lip comes back a bit shinier than the top and Satoru has to stop himself from wetting his own again. For nights.

“D’you want some water? Or something? You shouldn’t keep licking your lips like that.” You admonish, hardly paying him any mind as you pass him your water bottle, and in that moment Satoru recognizes the bits and pieces of you that mirror Suguru. The way you sigh his name, try to set him straight, albeit with a lot less of the easy familiarity his counterpart carries. 

You mumble, cut your gaze in the opposite direction, turn in on yourself not a second after you’ve scolded him. Like you’re still afraid he’ll bite you.

You don’t wait for him to drink, already turning your back to march towards the gravel parking lot where Suguru’s car idles nearby. Satoru spots where your balm stains the lip of the plastic water bottle a translucent light pink and presses it against his mouth. Takes a sip, tongue swiping over the rim.

Maybe he will.

[bookuce]

Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it. 

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, and Alina is Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language, 18+

WORD COUNT: 1505

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

Alina would wake up in Josh’s arms, her eyes meeting his heavily tattooed chest. She draws back a little, finding her best friend’s face. He was still peacefully sleeping, his eyelids fluttering ever so slightly. She unwraps her arm from his body before reaching down to remove his arm from hers. She moves from the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping man. 

There’s an ache in her body that only a heavy Pilates session could give her. Her entire body was sore, and the man sleeping soundly behind her was to blame. She now takes a look at the room. Clothes were tossed around it, her suitcase and all its contents on the floor, and the office chair at the desk in the corner was on its back. The lamp that was once on the desk was now hanging off the side, and her makeup box was on the floor, destroyed. She scoffs softly to herself before spotting the shirt Jey had on last night. She walks over to it, wincing with each step she takes. “Fuck…” She whispers to herself, her hands going to her hips. Slowly, she bends over, grabbing the red garment from the floor. 

With each motion to put the shirt over her bare body, she grimaces. Josh’s shirt smelled heavily of cologne, one she recognized she had bought him for Christmas. She pivots, now walking to the bathroom. She flicks on the lights, pausing when she sees her appearance in the mirror. Her hair stood wildly on her head, the leave-out from her sew-in now frizzed. Last night’s makeup smeared her face. There were streaks in her foundation and eyeshadow muddy around her eyes, but that wasn’t what shocked her the most. Along her neck were deep purple and red markings in many sizes. She sucks in a deep breath. 

Oh, he got carried away.

She forces herself to look away from her appearance, her eyes now on the bathroom counter. She grabs a brush and a scrunchie, brushing her hair back into a semi-neat ponytail. After that, she grasps a container of makeup wipes, pulling two wipes from the package. She wipes her face, ridding it of everything that could cause a breakout later. Once finished, she exited the bathroom, making her way around the bed towards the balcony doors. She needed some fresh air. 

The curtains are drawn shut, but sunshine pours through a thin opening, laying a warm, yellow streak across Josh’s sleeping frame. She grabs the thick curtain, drawing it back only a few inches so she can slip through the opening. Her fingers wrap around the doorknob as she pushes it down. It opens with a soft pop, causing Alina to look back at Josh. He didn’t move. Lucky for Alina, Josh was a heavy sleeper. If he could, he would sleep through the end of the world. She slides the door open, the outdoors filling the room with the faint ambiance of the city down below. She steps through the door, leaving it cracked only a bit.

The sunlight hit her eyes, causing a headache to build behind them. She groans softly, lifting her hand to shield herself from the light. Alina knew a hangover was coming for her after all the drinking she did last night. Her hands find the balcony railing, wrapping around the cool steel. She’d peer out at the early morning skyline. 

The sky is filled with the haze of a retreating fog, leaving the air just a bit damp. It reminded Alina of the early mornings of her childhood. Nostalgic. The Sun rays would light this haze perfectly as it moved through the tall buildings in the area. Alina would close her eyes, sucking in a slow deep breath as she did so. What a crazy turn of events this is, she thinks. What do they even do after this? How does one continue as if they didn’t fuck their best friend after a night on the town? The answer was simple, but not one she was ready to admit: She couldn’t.

Warm hands would wrap around her forearms, prompting her to close her eyes. Josh presses against her back, his head resting against hers. They would stand there in silence for what felt like forever. “Sleep well?” She asks, now wanting to hear his voice. 

“Yeah,” He breathes. “Would have slept better if I woke up next to you.” He finishes. His words would make her stomach swell with butterflies. She turns to face him, meeting those tired, dark eyes she’s grown accustomed to seeing over the last two years. 

“Next time.” She promises.

Josh leans his forehead against hers, his arms wrapping around her waist. “You want there to be a next time?” He asks. Hearing her say that eased his soul of anxiety he had about where they would stand. He knew they would have to have this talk at some point today—he just thought it would be a more complicated conversation than this. 

“Only if you want a next time.” She says, bringing her hands up to his chest. Her eyes shifted to it, noticing that she had left marks along the center of his chest and collarbone. Well, there goes fussing at him for the damage he caused. 

“Uh, yeah, I want a next time!” He says enthusiastically, pulling back to look at her. “Girl, I want a next time, a next time, and another next time!” He confesses, making her laugh. He watches her with so much adoration, a faint smile on his lips. “I been about you since the day I met you, Alina. That ain’t changing.” He tells her. Hearing that from him causes her laughter to die down. Her smile, though, remained. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he rolls his shoulders in response. “Be careful where you touch, you fucked my back up.” He tells her. She pulls back, shock on her face.

“Boy, I know you’re not talking. Do you not see me?” 

“Shit, you look loved to me.” He says, leaning over her for a kiss. His hands move to grip her ass, causing her to squeal. “And you ain’t got no drawls on?” He exclaims. Before she could fight, he had already tossed her over his shoulder. 

“Josh!” She shouts as he runs back into the room with her. 

ONE WEEK LATER

People rushed in and out of the green room the Anoa'i family occupied. They were getting ready for a segment with the quartet and Paul Heyman. Everyone was there—except for Josh. No one had heard from him for about forty-five minutes now. Jon tried to call him but was being sent straight to voicemail. Joe leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his thighs. His large hands were clasped tight while he tried to wait patiently for his cousin to arrive. 

“Jon,” He says, his voice husky.

“You ain’t even gotta say it, Uce,” Jon replies, his voice laced with slight annoyance. “Him and Lina getting on my nerves.” He mutters. Alina and Josh have been inseparable since they left that hotel room. Whatever free time they had, was spent with them ripping each other’s clothes off and going at it. He hadn’t seen his family until today.

“What Lina gotta do with this?” He asks.

“Oh, you ain’t know? They fucking.” Both Sefa and Joe look up at Jon, their thick brows furrowed. They did not know. Joe then straightens up, looking over his left shoulder for his little cousin. When he doesn’t find him there, he looks to the right. Joe lifts a tan finger at him.

“You owe me fifty.” He says. Sefa sucks his teeth at Joe, folding his arms. Right on cue, Josh comes rushing into the room. 

“Sorry, yall.” He mumbles, avoiding everyone’s eye contact. “I had to talk to Nick about something.” He lies. No one answered him straight away, but everyone was staring. He didn’t even check himself before he left that room with Alina. The black Bloodline shirt he once wore was now missing, leaving him a black jean jacket. His pants were unbuttoned, hanging off his hips, and red lipstick stained his lips. The man looked like a mess. 

“So,” Paul says, a smirk on his face. “When’s the wedding?” He asks, causing Josh to spin around.

“What?” He snaps.

“They know, Uce,” Jon says, looking up at him. “And pull your pants up before your dick falls out.” Josh glances down at his pants, pulling them up above his hips. “And clean your mouth,” He adds lastly. “Looking like you drank a pitcher of red Kool-Aid.” Josh quickly moved over to a mirror in the corner, now seeing what everyone else was seeing. He swears under his breath, turning to grab a paper towel from the snack table on the opposite wall.

Joe was amused, sitting back in his chair watching his scrambling cousin. “Wow, she got you all kinds of discombobulated, Uce.” He says, teasing him. 

“Shut up.”

NEXT PART

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Sorry this took me so long! Idk why, but I had writer's block for a second! I want to thank you lot for the crazy amount of support and love y'all have shown me writing this! I hope you guys keep vibing with me!

🏷️list: @thesamoanqueen @siriuslycee @empressdede @reci1996 @paigereeder @pytbgeezy @whatdoeseverybodywant @southerngirl41 @sayyestoheav3nn @wrestlingprincess80 @venusesworld @fearlesschimera @tbmotw @yana3sworld @truefant4sy @sisinever @alichesmi @cyberdejos2 @trashbin-nie @meannaim @geekinstilettos @woahthatshitfat @brokenglassslippers @sageispunk @bebesobrielo

[illusioninfnty]

moonlit disasters ↠ day 28 ; dubcon

↠ jacob custos x reader

fandom: the quarry word count: 2.4k warnings: nsfw 18+, heavy emphasis on dubcon, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, creampie, light gore elements (wolf transformation)

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Your voice is hushed as you try to remain as calm as possible.

But Jacob was definitely not okay.

You should have known this whole night was going to go to shit once you and your fellow counselors decided to throw a last minute party before you would all go your separate ways.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. The teenagers always die that way!

You didn’t have time to dwell on your stupidity now, though. Jacob had been bitten–yes, bitten–by one of those werewolves just like the one that was trapped with you two in the red room.

You don’t think you would’ve believed anyone who told you that werewolves existed. Especially the bony, hairless, freaks of nature that you had witnessed attack the two of you before your very eyes.

When Ryan showed up with Laura, one of the counselors who didn’t make it for the summer, and freed you two while revealing their plans to kill Chris Hackett, you probably would’ve thought that they were insane if it wasn’t for the hideous creature that was locked into the cell right next to yours.

Now, you and Jacob were lost in the middle of the woods, you with an injured foot and him being bitten in the shoulder by one of the creatures when he pushed you out of the way of its attack. The open wound was bleeding profusely and the skin surrounding the area was starting to darken. You wince at the sight as you inspect it.

“Oh my god, Jake. I think it’s infected,” you mutter. 

His eyes widen as his head swivels towards you. “What the fuck! Don’t tell me that!”

“Sorry!” You rip off a piece of your already torn pants in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. The fabric soaks up all the blood within seconds and you curse as you throw the useless scrap aside. “There’s a lot of blood here. I don’t know what to do.”

“Fuck–just, I don’t know, just think of something!” His words are sharp, in a tone you rarely ever heard from him, and you could hear the impatience and struggle in his voice.

“No need to get pissy with me; you’re not the only one injured here.” You gesture to your foot that was caught in a bear trap just moments prior. Trying to make your way back to the lodge had been proven a failure when another one of those goddamn werewolves appeared out of nowhere. It caught you off guard but was spooked off by a gunshot in the distance, which had led to your current situation.

“Sorry. It just really fucking hurts,” Jacob says, gripping his shoulder as he hunches over in pain. Exhausted, you plop down on the ground next to him and lean back against the tree.

You try to remain calm and wrap your head around what the actual fuck was happening tonight, since no one was around to explain to you what was going on now was.

 “Okay, so I’m pretty sure that with all this shit—” you throw your hands in the air to motion to everywhere around you, “—there’s probably not a single person coming to look for us. I think our best bet is to just…wait this out. Whatever this is.” You put your head in your hands and sigh. “It’s also no use trying to move, with my leg and your arm all fucked up. Hopefully the thing that just attacked us won’t come back for seconds.” 

Jacob awkwardly pats your shoulder. “Hey, hey, don’t worry about that now. At least we…” His eyes seem to glaze over as he stops talking in the middle of his sentence.

You pause at his sudden shift in behavior. Jacob was usually never this quiet, and you assume that would extend to when he was in pain. Even though this night turned out to be absolutely batshit insane, you weren’t expecting Jacob to act so unpredictable. You were worried he was hurt more than you initially thought. “Jacob…you all good?”

He blinks rapidly, as if that’ll give him the answer. “I…I don’t know, it’s like…” he rubs his chest with a closed fist, his other hand swiping across his forehead to wipe off some sweat before running it through his unkempt hair. “I feel so…hot.”

You let out a sigh of relief. That was a lot better than him saying he was in more pain. There had to be some water source close by that wouldn’t be too far for you to walk to on your own with your incapacitated foot. You could work with hot.

“Okay. Okay, that’s good.” You go to stand up from your place next to him. “Stay here. I’ll try my best to find some water to cool you down.”

“No!” Jacob grabs your arm with so much force that it knocks your head against the tree as he pulls you down to him again.

“What the fuck, man!” You rub your forehead where you made contact, wincing as you got to your knees once more. “That fucking hurt. Watch it.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He calls out your name, more gentler than his abrasive tone. He still hadn’t let go of your arm. “I-I guess I don’t know my own strength anymore.”

You give him a once-over. Jacob was definitely much paler than minutes before, save for the blackness that sprang from the bite wound, and his skin was glistening with a layer of sweat that was extremely concerning given the practically freezing temperature of the night.

“Look, if you don’t want me to leave, that’s cool. But I don't think it’s a good idea for you to stay like this. You need something, anything. You’re not doing too well.” Jacob appears as though he registers your words, as his grip loosens enough for you to wriggle free from it.

“Thanks,” you breathe out. You begin to leave before being interrupted again.

“Wait!” Jacob calls. You turn around, now completely fed up. You were trying to help him, but he was making it so goddamn difficult. “I—I wanted to apologize.” Jacob audibly gulps. He’s clearly starting to become delirious, slurring his words and panting profusely. But you let him finish. “I didn’t think all of this would happen. It was only meant to be one more night.”

The implication behind his words makes your heart drop. “Jake,” you start hesitantly, “what are you talking about?”

Jacob continues to ramble. His eyes are glazed over, and you’re not even sure he heard your question. “I didn’t picture any of this to happen. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew of the—the werewolves and shit. I wanted us to have one more night together. I didn’t want you to leave.” He coughs, giving you time to register his words. “Needed another night to build up the courage, you know?”

You inhale shakily, reeling in your anger. “Are you saying that…that you purposely ruined the van so we’d get stuck here?” “Just for the night!” His voice rises defensively, and he grabs onto your arm. “Don’t be mad! I didn’t know it would end up like this!”

You try to wriggle free from his grip, but it’s iron tight. “Let go of me!”

“No! Let me explain!” He pulls you down to the ground and crawls on top of you, trapping you with his body.

From your position, you’re able to get a better look at Jacob. The blackened area that was around his bite wound was clearly spreading across his body. The veins in his neck were black and bulging, and the color was starting to move up his face. He was sweating profusely, his skin slick with moisture and his face turning a deep shade of red.

Your eyes widen in concern, the anger rushing out of your body. “Oh my god, Jake, you look bad. I need to get you help. Like, right now.”

He lets out a growl, so inhuman it has you pausing in your struggle to be let free.

“Not when you're angry at me.” Jacob’s breathing gets more noticeable as the black in his veins spreads more rapidly to his face, and at this point you’re too afraid to say anything. His eyes go bloodshot as he looks down at you, panting heavily. It’s then that you feel the hardness against your stomach.

“Jake…” your voice shakes with fear, unsure of what he was going to do.

It seems as though he’s trying his hardest to restrain himself. His body trembles and his jaw clenches. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. He begins to grind himself on you, and you can feel his leaking cock through his boxers.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Jacob pleads. “It feels like I’m going to die.” He continues to push his length against you, whining. “I need to—to—”

“O-okay, just,” you gulp hard. You didn’t want to hear him say it. “Just be gentle.” You shut your eyes tight, and try to hold in your tears. If this would help Jacob from whatever that werewolf bite did to him, you would accept it, and hope that it’ll be over quickly.

With your approval, Jacob wastes no time in ripping your clothes off. The shreds lay limply on the dirt next to you, and that’s when you notice that his fingernails had grown sharp, too. He pulls off his own boxers, and you turn away after getting a glimpse of his throbbing cock, leaking with precum.

Jacob forces you to turn over, positioning you onto your hands and knees. Without any warning he rams his whole length into you with so much force it knocks you over, unable to balance on your forearms. You collapse into the ground beneath you, feeling your body get caked in the loose dirt as you’re shoved back and forth. You barely register the pain you feel where Jacob just entered you.

“J-Jacob wait!”

He ignores your protests and continues with the ruthless pace. You cry out—in what was pain or terror you aren’t sure. You can feel warm liquid running out of your pussy, what was most likely blood from the intrusion.

His balls slap against your ass as he thrusts in and out of you. His tip reaches the furthest parts of you, having you moan involuntarily. Your nails dig into the dirt beneath you as you get pummeled into it, trying to find a way, any way, to stabilize yourself.

You don’t think Jacob is coherent anymore. All you can hear from behind you is low grunts and growls, and his saliva dripping onto your bare back. He takes his hand and smashes your cheek into the ground, giving himself more momentum for his thrusts. Your body gets dragged across the ground as he moves you every which way.

“Jake…” You don’t even have the strength anymore to push back. His cock feels so big, so full inside of you, and you feel as though you’re about to break from the force of his hips against your own. The pain has subsided for the most part, and some pleasure takes its place. All you can do is allow yourself to enjoy it as best you can.

You reach your hand down towards your clit, wanting some relief. If Jacob’s going to get something good out of this, you may as well, too. Your hands are caked in dirt, but at this point nothing about what is going on could be sanitary.

You rub your hand fast against yourself, trying to match the pace of Jacob but failing. He moves faster than what you ever thought was possible, and you shakily give up after mere minutes.

Jacob’s now sharp fingernails dig into your sides as his cock pulses inside you. Your walls squeeze him tight and he lets out a loud groan from above you. Your own arousal wets his cock even more, and the pap, pap, pap of his thrusts are louder than ever.

Feral is the only word you could use to describe him now. His strength seems to have increased by a tenfold and he has you completely still by the force of a single hand. His other one grips your hip, drawing blood, which only seems to egg him on. He forces his cock deep inside you over and over to the point where your vision goes completely black.

His cock throbs furiously, and you can tell he’s about to cum. Another wave of fear washes over you. You didn’t think Jacob had any plans to pull out, not with the state he’s in. “Not inside!” You try to struggle against his hold, but it’s no use.

Jacob doesn’t listen—rather, doesn’t hear you—and his hot semen floods your pussy. You let a choked sob escape you as you feel the warm liquid drip out of your thighs.

You can’t focus too much on that now when Jacob is making strange sounds above you. He grunts, and his voice changes from his normal tone to one much more deeper and animalistic. You hear him let out a low curse behind you, and with him distracted you’re able to remove yourself from his still-hard cock.

As you cover your head with your arms all you hear from behind you is a loud burst, and the sensation of hot liquid coating your back and making you flinch. You turn to look and choke out a scream and frantically scamper away in the ground as the weight of Jacob’s body leaves you.

In your friend’s place is a werewolf, almost identical to the one in the basement with gray skin and gangly limbs with a mouth full of sharp teeth. You stare in terror, covered in Jacob’s blood, just waiting to be gored to death by the terrifying beast.

But instead the creature stares back, and for just a second, you think you see recognition in its eyes. Then it scampers away, snarling as it passes between the trees and out of your sight.

As Jacob (should you even call that thing by his name?) flees, you fall apart, choking on the sobs you tried your best to hold back before.

You pray to whatever god is out there listening that the sun would rise soon to save all your friends, and to pretend that this entire night never even happened.

[sunvmars]

a quiet hue || s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

*navigation/directory | request box | taglist | masterlist | latest fic

word count: 5.1k summary: desperate for a cure for your blocked creative flow, you take a trip to the roof of your apartment to overlook the city for inspiration. that's where you meet Steve, discovering he's your new neighbor. needless to say, meeting him aids your motivation, and opens up the possibility of something more. warnings: brief almost sexual encounter, swearing, four uses of 'y/n.'

Dull moonlight streams through the open window of your apartment, coating your studio room in a soft white tinge. The faint bustling of the city outside and the hum of your favorite vinyl record provide a constant, soothing backdrop. However, the familiar sounds do nothing to aid your frustration as you stand in front of your easel with a blank canvas on it.

Your brush hovers mid-air, desperate to pick up any color to put down on the clean slate. Yet, when you try to come up with anything to paint, you end up coming up with nothing at all. All inspiration and creativity have been slipping through your fingers like water for the last few weeks. You spent many hours of those last few weeks in your studio alone, and it's starting to feel pointless to even try anymore.

"Come on," you huff in irritation. "Give me something, anything."

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking you out of your concentration. A groan escapes you as you pluck the phone out of the pocket of your painting apron. You crack a smile upon reading the notification, a text you'd gotten from your best friend, Elizabeth. She's urging you, yet again, to introduce yourself to the "hot guy," who just moved in across from you.

Elizabeth lives four doors down from you and has always taken it upon herself to tell you every time someone new moves in. The guy had only moved in last week, but she already insists that you two would be perfect together. How she knew that after only meeting him once, you weren't sure.

You respond with, "Liz, I've been in a creative crisis for three weeks. No time for 'hot guys' right now," before slipping your phone back into your apron. Your attention returns to your pitifully plain canvas as you mentally curse your idea-void brain.

After a few more minutes of nothing but frustration, you finally give up. You step away from your easel and sigh, deciding to go to the rooftop to relax. On most occasions, you would keep trying, but maybe some fresh air and raw sunlight could help you, you figure.

When you step out onto the rooftop, you can't help but be amazed by the view of the city. The skyline stretches out before you in muted blue and black hues, and the moon bathes everything in a cold, white glow. The city's constant motion, the people and cars below, are a stark contrast to the stillness that has enveloped your artistic abilities.

You plant yourself in a chair that overlooks the city in the corner of the rooftop. Over the last two years that you've lived here, said corner has managed to accumulate quite a bit of furniture. Now it's decorated perfectly with an outdoor couch, two chairs, a small table, a few potted plants, and globe string lights that stretch across the railing. The quiet oasis has often provided you with solace, and you hope for it to do just that tonight as well.

Leaning back in the chair, you close your eyes and allow the gentle breeze to caress your face. The cool air seeps into your skin, and for a moment, you feel a sense of peace. Distant noises and the bright lights of the surrounding buildings have become a familiar comfort for you. In fact, it's so soothing that you've gotten lost in thought, not hearing the door creak open or the footsteps approaching you.

"Mind if I join you?" a deep, but kind, voice asks, effectively startling you out of your tranquil thoughts.

Your eyes open immediately and land on the man standing beside you. He's fairly tall with blonde hair that almost looks like honey, and he has crystalline blue eyes that make your heart skip when your gaze meets his.

Instantly, you realize that you've never seen him around the building before. So, at first, you don't recognize him, but he seems familiar. Then it suddenly connects; he's Steve Rogers, meaning that Captain America himself is your new neighbor. And Elizabeth had definitely left out that tiny detail on purpose. She knows you don't care for titles or status, but it's still a little jarring.

"Oh, no, not at all," you respond meekly.

He offers a warm smile as he sits in the chair beside you. "I'm Steve," he says, his eyes lingering on you.

"Y/n," you introduce yourself. "You must be the hot new guy."

Heat makes its way to your face as soon as the words leave your mouth. Your gaze drops to your lap, suddenly feeling nervous under his friendly stare. Steve chuckles heartily, and it puts you at ease a little, a smile growing on your face.

"I'm so sorry, those were not my words," you explain.

When you look back up at him, he has an eyebrow cocked up and a slight smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. Embarrassment crawls back into you as you realize, yet again, you'd said something that was easily misinterpreted.

"I did not mean it like that. I meant that my friend, Elizabeth, said you were hot, not that I did- not that you're not attractive, but-" You cut yourself off with a groan, briefly covering your face with your hands out of mortification. "She has been trying to get me to meet you, in her words, "the new hot guy," since you moved in. She's convinced that we're soulmates or something. Now, please say something before I embarrass myself again."

Steve laughs a soft, genuine laugh, finding your rambling nothing short of adorable and endearing. "No worries, I'm flattered by your friend's enthusiasm," he reassures you, "But for the record, I don't think that I'm the attractive neighbor here."

Picking up on what he's insinuating, you shift in your chair slightly as you speak. "I- I...uhm... Thank you," you stammer nervously.

He hums to acknowledge your appreciation before leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped together on his chest. "So, what're you doing up here by yourself? Just enjoying the view?" he inquires, his attention switching to the city overlook in front of you.

"I guess you could say that. Really just having a creative block, and this is the only place that distracts me from the frustration."

"I get that, it is beautiful out here," he says in agreement. "What kind of art do you make?"

"Out of all the creative hobbies, how'd you know I make art?"

"I just had a feeling. You've got a certain...energy, I guess, that seeps from you."

"The stereotypical miserable and struggling artist energy?" you joke, chuckling momentarily. "I usually just do paintings, mainly on canvas or paper, but sometimes I do little sketches."

Steve's interest piques as he listens to you talk. He sits up some, his head turned to you, giving you his full attention. "That sounds fascinating. I used to dabble in drawing myself, so I'd love to see your work sometime."

A small smile forms on your face. "I'd be more than happy to show you. Once I get out of this little rut, that is," you respond. "Why did you stop drawing? Do you not enjoy it anymore?"

His gaze shifts away briefly, his expression turning more contemplative as he speaks, "I guess life just got in the way at some point. When you're caught up in a world that's moving so fast, sometimes you lose touch with things that used to bring you joy."

You listen intently as he speaks, his words resonating deeper than you can explain. Even though you've clearly led and lived two different lives, you feel a sense of instant connection based on the few words he just spoke. More than anything, though, you both admire and appreciate his vulnerability with you- a total stranger to him. His openness makes you all the more comfortable around him.

"I understand what you mean," you reply empathetically, "sometimes you just need a little spark, something that reminds you how much you love your passion, y'know? Maybe you'll find that soon."

"I hope so," Steve says with an appreciative smile, his eyes locking with yours once again. "Or maybe I've already found it."

"Already? Please do share the secret as to how you did that so fast."

"Well," he starts, "she's sitting right next to me."

His words linger in the air and a warmth spreads through your chest, igniting something that had been dormant for a long time. You chuckle for a moment in an attempt to brush off the nerves pooling in your stomach. After a second or two, you build up the courage to speak again.

"You're quite the charmer there, aren't you? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting with me, Steve," you tease with a playful glint in your eyes.

He responds to your teasing with a chuckle of his own. "I suppose I am being a tad forward, but I just couldn't resist. Is it working?"

Your cheeks feel just as warm as your chest, and you find yourself caught in his magnetic gaze. "I would say it is, but you are my first real conversation in weeks, so take that as you will," you admit, a shy smile spreading across your face.

"I'll take that as a win, then," he replies with an endearing grin.

Time seems to go by quickly as you two continue to talk. Sometimes you both go off on random little tangents, straying off-topic before finding your way back. You talk about what got you into art in the first place, your time in school, and how you ended up in the city. Typically you're more reserved than most, but his genuine curiosity about you makes you feel chatty. It feels like you've known him for years rather than a short hour and a half.

He's more of a listener than a talker, you observe. He mostly sympathizes with you, occasionally sharing related moments from his past, and sometimes he'll briefly mention his job. Nevertheless, you don't mind him hardly speaking of his work, because even though it's interesting, it's not what you care about most. And luckily for you, the simple human under the heroic title is much more interesting, and has more in common with you in terms of interests, beliefs, and hobbies.

Steve sits straight up in his chair and breaks the comfortable silence that had settled, "I think this might be the most intriguing and honest conversation I've had in a while. So, thank you."

"It's no problem, Steve. And thank you for helping me get some of my inspiration back, and for listening to me ramble," you reply softly.

He turns his gaze to you, his eyes twinkling under the lights and his expression warm. "I'm glad I could be of some help. I must say, your company has been the highlight of my day- my month, really. Maybe your friend was right, but I think I was the one meant to meet you and not the other way around," he muses truthfully.

"And I think you may be that spark I needed," you smile, inspiration now running freely through you, "I suppose I'll go try my hand at that canvas again now."

You rise to your feet, eager to see what comes from your newfound muse. "It's been nice meeting you, and I'd love to talk longer, but if I lose this ounce of motivation then I just might so crazy."

Steve also gets up from his seat, a genuine fondness in his eyes as he says, "No worries. It's been a pleasure, but I've got an early morning tomorrow anyway. Would you like me to walk you back?"

"Seeing as you're across the hall from me, it'd probably be an awkward walk back if I said no," you joke.

Steve lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You've got a good point there. Let's go, then."

You nod in agreement, your smile matching his. Together, you walk back to your respective apartments, grateful for each other's company. As you unlock your door, you turn to face him with a thankful smile.

"Again, thank you. I look forward to seeing you again sometime," you say, pondering on your thoughts for a short second before adding, "I'm usually out there around the same time every evening; if you'd like to come out again tomorrow, I'd love the company."

"It's no problem, truly," he replies, offering you a reassuring smile. "And I'd love to. I'll be up tomorrow to visit you, but you know where to find me if you need me before then."

You hum in approval, stepping inside your apartment. Before you can close the door behind you, his voice speaks up again.

"Oh, and y/n?"

Opening the door fully, you look at him from across the hall, his figure standing facing you in his doorway. "Yes?"

"Thank you for treating me like I'm just Steve and not like, well, a 'hero.' It's a nice change of pace."

A welcoming smile graces your lips as your head tilts slightly to the side, your voice soft-spoken, "Well, that is who you are, isn't it? To me, you are just Steve."

The corners of his lips tug up, and his eyes hold a mixture of gratitude and sincerity. "That means more to me than you know. Have a good night, okay?"

"You too, Steve."

With that, you both close your doors. You return to your studio and throw your apron back on. This time, it's easy to come up with an idea and let your brush ghost over the canvas. Strictly from memory, you paint the skyline from the view of the rooftop tonight. You paint all the stars, the dark clouds, and the moon before stopping for the night.

It all comes naturally until that point because, unexpectedly and ironically, you had taken your own advice.

You found your spark.

The very next night, Steve meets you on the rooftop again, just as he promised. And every night since then for the last three weeks, he'd met you on the rooftop to catch up and share your progress. There wasn't but one day when he didn't show up, and meeting to chat had become like a routine. Because of that, the two of you hardly messaged each other throughout the day even though you had exchanged numbers. Some days, however, he'd text you simply to check in on you.

The man has had an irreversible effect on you that you can't deny; he keeps you level-headed, and he's almost like a muse to you.

After you finished the skyline painting of the night you met, you kept up with the theme. You did other random sketches during the daytime, along with commissions to make money, but always painted some semblance of the night sky when you got home from talking with Steve. You'd decided to turn the paintings into a collection, and last was the piece that completed said collection.

You also decided that you would finally take Steve up on his interest in seeing what you've painted. So, you told him before you parted the previous night to come over around the time you'd usually meet.

Now, it's the night he's supposed to come over, and you invited Elizabeth over after her shift to watch a movie to pass the time. That's how you ended up on your couch, Liz sitting opposite of you with your legs across her lap. You're holding your fourth glass of wine, your hair is messy from laying down, and you've got a blanket slung lazily over your legs.

The fact that Steve is coming over had slipped your mind as soon as Liz put that third glass of wine in your hand. Had you remembered, you would been wearing more than you are. But thanks to the alcohol, you got distracted and forgot to change into more...conservative clothing. Now you're left only wearing skimpy shorts paired with your favorite painting shirt from earlier; a thin, black button-up that's now unbuttoned almost halfway, and your red bra visible underneath.

Contributing to your distraction is none other than Liz. She's currently talking your ear off about her new situationship. And you don't mind at all, taking more interest in her life than the movie.

"Wait, wait, wait," you interrupt her, giggling as you try to piece together your words. "He took you on one 'date' to a car meet in his fancy car, and that's all it took to have you wrapped around his finger?"

Liz chuckles and takes a sip of her wine. "I mean, it's not just the cool cars, or the fact that he drives a Corvette. He's sweet, really, amongst other things," she says with a sly grin.

"Are any of these "other things," including being good in bed?" you question, an eyebrow raised expectantly at her.

She bursts into laughter, her cheeks flushed from the wine and her confession. "You know I'm a sucker for that," she admits as she tucks a strand of her dark red hair behind her ear.

You join in on her laughter while bringing your glass to your lips. "You're shameless, Lizzie," you tease playfully, shaking your head in faux disapproval at her.

Unfazed by your sarcastic teasing, she grins mischievously. "Shameless and proud, my friend."

"And that's why I love you," you smile.

"I know, I love you too," she replies with a yawn, "But as much as I love you, I think I better get going."

You lift your legs, grumbling dramatically at having to move, and swing your legs off the couch. She chuckles at your exaggeration, placing her glass on the coffee table before walking to the shoe rack near your front door. She slips her shoes on and then walks over to the counter to grab her purse. As she prepares to leave, you stretch out your tired limbs, sighing at the feeling.

You stand up straight, walking towards her to offer a hug, your arms outstretched. "Thanks for coming over, Liz. Be careful out there," you say, embracing her tightly.

"I live four doors down, honey."

"Oh, right," you respond with a smile as you pull away from the hug.

"Get some sleep, bug," she chuckles. "I'll talk to you-"

A knock sounds on the door, cutting her sentence short. Her brows raise at you before she looks at the door and then back at you.

"You expecting company?" she questions.

"I guess so," you mumble, hurrying to the door.

When you open it, you're met with the sight of Steve, dressed in his usual casual attire. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans, and his eyes trace over you quickly before his expression becomes slightly flustered.

"Hey there," he says, giving you a meek smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"You're not. Come on in," you reply, your cheeks warming as you realize how little you have on. Steve steps in, and you glance back at Liz, who's trying to stifle her laughter with her hand over her mouth, "Elizabeth was just leaving," you say with eyes narrowed in her direction.

Liz clears her throat, still trying to contain her laughter. "Oh, we're doing legal names now, l/n?"

When your eyes narrow at her once more, she finally lets out a laugh. "Alright, alright. I'll get back to 'just leaving' now," she says, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and slipping out of the door between the two of you.

She turns to give him a brief nod, but offers you a smirk, and then makes her way out. She sings, "Have fun," teasingly when she's just out of the door. You can't help but roll your eyes at her, and Steve chuckles.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," you remark sarcastically, closing the door behind her.

Steve speaks as you turn to face him, "She certainly gives quite the introduction."

"That she does," you sigh deeply, "I'm sorry for my underdressed state, Liz brought wine and I completely forgot you were coming tonight."

His gaze rakes back over you. "It is quite the surprise, but I don't mind," he starts, his eyes twinkling with something unknown as he takes in your flustered state, "Besides, you look fine- well, more than fine honestly, so I'm not complaining."

A shiver runs down your spine under his gaze, and you try to suppress a nervous laugh. You definitely hadn't expected that reaction, or that compliment, and it only adds to your nerves. It wasn't him you're nervous about, it's the attention that's unusual for you.

"Thank you," you say with a sheepish smile. "Uhm, I actually wanted to show you something. Follow me."

Steve hums, a smile crossing over his features, and he tries to force his eyes to stay off your figure while he follows you to your studio. He fails, though, and he catches a glimpse of your lower half when you walk. A deep blush tints his cheeks, and he's glad that you can't see it, but an obvious tent grows in his pants.

Upon entering your studio, you catch his flustered expression out of the corner of your eye. "You sure I don't need to change? Seems like I'm distracting you," you tease.

He clears his throat, stammering as he tries to regain his composure, "No, no, you're not... I mean, I just get distracted easily, but that's not me saying you look easy, or that you don't look great, 'cause you do, really, but I- uh, I'm so sorry."

A chuckle falls from your lips at his adorable, but not very common, nervous state. "I was just teasing. It's okay, Steve. Never thought I'd see you all shy and stuttering instead of me, though."

"You just have a way of making me feel... off balance, per-say," he says with a bashful grin.

Again, Steve's embarrassment is a definite contrast to the confident demeanor he usually carries, so you can't help but find the reaction endearing.

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual," you reply truthfully. "Now, back to the matter at hand. I wanted to show you these."

You gesture up at the collection of paintings that litter your longest wall, and Steve's eyes follow your direction. His gaze sweeps over the paintings, which he had missed initially due to his focus being primarily on you.

He takes a few steps closer to get a better look at the art in front of him. Each one displays a different variation of the sky and city lights, the canvases vary in size and tone, and every piece reflects a different emotion. Although they're all of the same sky, some are from different perspectives, and all of the cityscapes have a few differences.

You speak up after a few seconds and break the silence, "So? What do you think?"

He lingers on the paintings out of admiration, taking in every single one of the details of each painting. "They're stunning, I love all of them," he finally says. His voice filled with genuine awe as he adds, "You're incredible, truthfully, and I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you, Steve, but they wouldn't exist without you."

"Without me? What do you mean?" he questions, an eyebrow raised as he turns to look at you.

You smile and walk over to stand in front of him. Your eyes lock with his blue ones. "You're the inspiration for them- all of our conversations, the last few weeks we've met up there. Honestly, you've become my source of inspiration, and I can't thank you enough."

He lets your words soak in with softened eyes. Then his hand reaches out to delicately cup your cheek, and his thumb brushes your skin tenderly. Goosebumps litter your skin the second his hand meets your skin, and you feel your cheeks heat up, his touch making your heart pound in anticipation.

"I'm more than honored," he says, his voice warm and affectionate. "I'm glad I could be of help to you. You're truly talented, honey."

With each passing moment, you can feel your connection deepening, and so can he. The air in the room seems to have become charged with an unspoken understanding of yours and his feelings. His hand on your cheek, the feeling of his slightly hot skin on yours, has nerves pooling in your stomach. After a second, you find yourself leaning into his touch. You even allow your eyes to close for a brief second to savor the moment.

When you open your eyes, you find Steve's gaze locked onto your lips. His expression is one filled with a foreign longing and desire, along with traces of hesitation.

"Y/n," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, "can I..."

Before he can finish, you close the remaining gap between the two of you. Your lips press onto his with your hands on resting on his chest and his hands cupping your face. His response is immediate; he kisses you back softly as a simple exploration of the connection that's been growing for weeks. It's a gentle, tender action, and it's almost like he's testing the waters to see if the newfound attraction is mutual. And luckily for him, it is, and you can feel it in every shared breath.

Steve pulls away to give you time to catch your breath, leaving your heart racing. His forehead rests on yours as he smiles at you. The nervousness you felt has since dissipated, and now it's all been replaced with admiration.

"I've wanted to do that for longer than I'd like to admit," he confesses in a whisper.

"Me too. Is it bad that I'm tempted to ask you to do it again?" you ask, meeting his smile with one of your own.

His eyes sparkle with delight, a light chuckle falling from his mouth while his hand still cradles your cheek. "I was hoping you'd say that," he says, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

Once more, he leans down and captures your lips in another kiss. This time, the kiss is deeper, and...hungrier. One of your hands slides up his chest and behind his neck so your fingers can tangle in his hair. In response, his hands drop, his arms encircling your waist to pull you flush against him.

The need that's been simmering for weeks comes to the forefront as your lips move in sync with his. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them willingly. Feverishly, his tongue slides into your mouth, the taste of him becoming nearly intoxicating. His hands trail from your waist to your lower back, and he attempts to pull you closer, but there's no more distance between you two to close. Your fingers tug at his hair gently in response, the feeling of his body on yours making your heart beat out of your chest.

Steve's lips move from your mouth down to your neck to leave a trail of fleeting kisses. Your breath hitches, a small whimper tumbles from your lips, and it only pushes him to keep going. His hands roam over your body and caress every curve as he occasionally grabs at your waist or hips. Delicately, his teeth nip at your neck just under your jawline. You whine when he pulls away, your eyes meeting his, your chest rising and falling faster.

"I know. I want you too, honey, but you deserve more," he says softly. "Let me take you out tomorrow, on a real date, and we'll see where it goes- does that sound okay?"

"Tomorrow sounds perfect," you reply with a smile.

He grins, returning your warm energy. "I'll be looking forward to it, but I should probably get going for the night. I'll pick you up at, say, six-thirty?"

You nod in agreement, your fingers twirling strands of his hair around them. "That works for me," you concur. "Let me walk you to the door?"

He hums softly, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead and then on your lips. When he, reluctantly, pulls away, you miss the heat of his body immediately. Your fingers intertwine with his as you walk him out of your studio and to the front door. He unlocks the door before turning around to face you. Just as he's about to kiss you goodbye, you jump slightly, pulling your hand out of his.

"I almost forgot- just wait here," you speak in a hurried tone, heading back into your studio.

You pull out your desk drawer and take out the painting you had sitting in there. Steve's expression turns joyful when you return, the medium-sized canvas in your hands, and his eyebrow quirks up out of curiosity.

"What's this?" he asks.

With a bashful smile, you hand it over to him. "Just a gift for you, a little thank you for helping me."

He carefully takes the painting from you, his eyes lighting up as he gazes at the canvas. It's the painting you did on the first night you met; a beautiful depiction of the night sky from above with a cityscape beneath it, and two figures in the chairs on the roof. To anybody else, it would look like just that, two figures, but he knows it's the two of you. He recognizes that because, well, he has remembered every night since he met you.

His fingers glide gingerly over the brushstrokes, tracing the image admirably. "Oh, honey, this is beautiful. I'll cherish it, honestly, and I have just the place for it in my apartment," he says, his tone appreciative and endearing.

You beam at his reaction, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," he promises, his cheeks tinted a soft pink from your kiss. He leans down and places a quick, but still lingering, kiss to your lips before saying, "Goodnight, y/n, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Steve," you respond, watching him open the door and give you a small smile before leaving.

Once the door is closed, you lean against it for a moment, your heart fluttering with anticipation. After locking the door, you make your way to your bedroom, and your smile doesn't waver even once. All too eager for your date, you don't bother to change out of your clothes. You climb into bed, and it only takes you a few minutes to knock out, drifting off to sleep with a now content mind and full heart.

And unbeknownst to you, Steve falls asleep with the same level of contentment and joy in his own bed.

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[seafoamreadings]

week of april 21st, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: the biggest astrological news of your week is the end of mercury retrograde right in the middle of your sign. you can still anticipate a little bit of shenanigans for a few days afterward since it is so close to home for you, but from here on out a little peaceful normalcy re-enters your life. if you need more chaos it'll have to be the kind you make for yourself.

taurus: aries antics are not yet at an end but in many ways your sign now becomes the star of the show. on some levels this will be quite fun for you, especially if you thrive under positive attention from others. on other levels, the shifts and changes can be overwhelming to your stolid and stable sign. try to be surprised and delighted rather than shocked and dismayed. it's probably not all so bad and if it is, you will prevail.

gemini: the end of a mercury retrograde is always good news for a gemini. your mind clears where there was recently any brain fog or fuzziness. the fumbling and bumbling shifts back to your natural willowy gracefulness. other things are going on this week too but this is the biggest relief for you.

cancerians: mercury retrograde has been hard for the cardinal signs like you, but its end this week is a breath of fresh air. meanwhile a full scorpio moon can also help you recharge any intellectual or mental fatigue you have been experiencing lately, but do expect to be in your feelings a bit about it. not that that's a bad thing, no matter what some might say. it is one of your gifts, how deeply you can feel.

leo: you'll have a lot of strong feelings early on this week but by the weekend your head and heart are much clearer. physical exercise benefits you, so head to a gym or just have a little nice gallivanting outdoors.

virgo: the more mercurial virgoans will feel great relief as mercury goes direct at last. but don't jump in too quickly to any contracts or sharing resources. less mercurial virgoans will be more focused on mars-neptune in pisces, bringing some illusions (or disillusionment) to relationships. emilie du chatelet said our happiness depends on our illusions, so it is ok to embrace them to some degree, but don't let anyone lie to you or do you harm.

libra: this week's astrology portends mainly good things (although also shifting things) in your relationships, perhaps some delusion or manipulation occurring in some routine or place of work, and a full moon involving your money. if you've been financially wise and responsible, this could be great news. if you've let your luxurious venusian tendencies get the better of you recently, perhaps less great.

scorpio: you may find yourself saying mercury schmercury to the folks hyped up about mercury retrograde this week, but it's mostly due to the full moon that occurs in your sign shortly beforehand. your daily routines run smoother than ever but your emotions are heated and overflowing. don't try to cram it down. let it out, in private if need be.

sagittarius: mercury direct again may well herald a creative breakthrough. or, perhaps juicier, a new relationship or fling. or even an affair, if you're that kind of sagittarian.

capricorn: your sign and your cardinal brethren will certainly feel a relief of some tension or disarray as mercury resumes forward motion this week. the first half of the week is also a great time for you to socialize, if you have the time!

aquarius: almost for sure, you'll receive some sort of important or, at minimum, 'interesting' message around the time that mercury ends its retrograde this week. and before that/at the same time, the full moon in scorpio lights up your 10th house of status and legacy, so while you may not want to be out there posting any serious news on your socials, it's ok to take credit for work well done.

pisces: if you can, avoid spending money (especially on anything important) until next week. on the other hand, academic pursuits get a major boost and if you're not an academic, at least get philosophical about something close to your heart. by the end of the week a mars-neptune conjunction gives you energy, although perhaps not of the physical sort. avoid lying to yourself or others.

[aumos]

By now, we are sure you have understood the mechanism and especially the advantages of motion sensor lights and energy-efficient LED tube lights. To all first-time readers, we recommend checking out our previous blogs on this topic and especially to get a great understanding of the benefits of motion sensor lights by AUMOS.

[swashbucklery]

Kit + angry to discover that she actually likes textile work

A wee circus preview and some textile sweetness for you, friend.

+

Kit was never meant to learn to mend things. She was meant - at least in her grandmother’s eyes - to have staff who might mend things for her. Money enough (from her husband) to be able to buy a new dress if one tore.

Kit has been taught, in the most begrudging possible way, the needle arts of a lady. She has been instructed on embroidering fine feather-stitch ferns, decorating handkerchiefs that were always just shy of her grandmother’s standards until her fingertips were numb and her head ached with frustration. She has only the dimmest memories of her mother sitting at the kitchen table, darning socks with her glasses on, saving the mending for midday when the light was best.

You can learn when you’re older, her mother had said, when Kit paused to watch the nimble work of her sure hands. Leave me to get this done before the matinee.

They both thought they’d have so much more time.

Now Kit is sitting by her own table; outdoors in the space meant for eating, somewhere in the wilds of Indiana. She’s got needle and thread, and tights with a run in them, and she’s so frustrated at her own clumsy work that she wants to scream.

“Kitten,” a voice says over her shoulder. Elora always jingles as she approaches; Kit must have missed the sound of it in her frustration. “What are you doing to those poor tights.”

Kit groans. “Nothing useful, I can tell you that.”

Elora sits sideways on the bench beside her. Her hair is all done up for the matinee, piled into a layer cake of curls and jewel-ended pins that turn her head into a confection. For the show she’ll add feathers: ostrich dyed rich emerald, bright magenta, coal black. She’s still wearing her own clothes, though - a soft calico dress, faded from being worn a hundred times over, her wrists heavy with bracelets in a way that Kit’s grandmother would call vulgar. It’s a familiar sort of absurdity, now.

“Who taught you how to mend, the barn cat?” Elora says.

Somehow, the teasing makes a little of Kit’s frustration lift. Elora knows, of course, why Kit couldn’t mend her way out of a wet paper bag. But she often does this. Gives Kit the kindness of forgetting. “I don’t need new ones,” Kit sighs. “It’s just a run in the leg.”

Elora takes the garment from her, runs expert hands along the outside of the cloth, turns it this way and that to get a sense of the flaw. She frowns at the clumsy stitches Kit’s put in - too lumpy, somehow pulling things tight but extending threads loose over the gap in a way that turns awkward - and pulls them out with a few swift motions. “You don’t need new ones,” Elora says. “But you’re going at it sideways. You need these for this afternoon?”

Kit’s stomach is already tight with worry; she manages a nod. “Hoping so,” she says. “They’re my best ones.”

The tights are a perfect, lurid mauve, so bright that they’re difficult to look at under the stage lights. The rest of Kit’s costume is black and cream; the whole effect highlights her legs, brings out the slowly developing shapeliness of her calves. She even found thread to match them. If she could just get her hands to -

Elora takes the mending into her own lap, and Kit doesn’t know if she wants to cry with frustration or relief. “Well, there’s no sense teaching yourself on silk like this, no wonder you’re feeling clumsy.”

She plucks a few things out of Kit’s sewing kit - a spare thread and needle, a second thimble - and clicks her tongue. Then she slings one leg into Kit’s lap.

Kit giggles. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Elora draws her gaze down, points to a tiny, fraying worn spot - less than an inch - in the patterned river of her skirt. The print of the cloth is so complicated, with so many different places for the eye to rest, that Kit hadn’t noticed. “This needs fixing,” she says, no-nonsense. “And cotton is a lot kinder to beginners. You’re going to mend my dress, and I’m going to mend your tights.”

Coming from anyone else, the invitation would make Kit stubborn. She’s still breaking old habits; reflexes from a time when her world was stifling lace and lemonade socials and croquet. But Elora is not, she knows, offering a lesson so that she can speak ill of Kit to the next ten girls who come calling. Elora is not going to give Kit the cold shoulder at the next event of the season. Elora is warm and funny and unfailingly kind, her needle and thread already halfway up the run that’s been giving Kit trouble for over an hour.

Dutifully, Kit sets her unpracticed fingers to work threading her needle.

The thread Elora has given her is a perfect crimson; the colour of the contrast patterning that makes its way across the background cloth now faded to a pale brown the colour of prairie dust. Elora - always happiest in the glitter of a big city - likes to match herself to the dirt out here in the Midwest. Once a day, she giggles and ask Willow when he’s planning to add some trick ropers for a Wild West show. Kit sticks her hand under Elora’s skirt, gathering the cloth the way she’s been shown - by Elora, by Jade - and starts to mend.

It is easier on cotton.

The cloth doesn’t shift or slither out of Kit’s grasp the way that the silk was. Elora’s dress is never going to gleam the same way under the stage lights, but it behaves in Kit’s hands, as she draws her needle in and out. It’s easier on a frayed spot, too, instead of a place where the cloth has torn altogether. Frustration blooms at the back of Kit’s neck; the stirrings of one of those headaches she used to get over embroidery.

Elora pauses in her work, suddenly, and reaches out to grip the place on her skirt where Kit is trying her best. She brings it nearer to her eyes - exposing an amount of underskirt and lace bloomer that would have shocked Kit weeks ago - and smiles. “See, you know what you’re doing, Kitten,” she says. “Just gotta make it easier on yourself.”

She hands the section of skirt back to Kit. Kit stares down at her work. Elora doesn’t say a thing more. Not a lady’s needlework can never be too perfect, not a single note on the fact that Kit’s grid is running slightly off-center to the grain of the cloth. Kit’s repair - tidy, if not perfect - is good enough.

Kit doesn’t say anything in reply. She’s not sure how, yet, to reply. But she goes back to her work smiling.

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 30

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

Dr. Miller sat beside me on an oversized rock by the lake. We laced up our skates and I glanced out at the frozen lake outstretched before us. Way out in the center I could see others moving about, though the daylight was rapidly fading.

I glanced over at him and a breath puffed into the air as I spoke. “You're sure we're okay?”

He nodded, motioning to other skaters and held out a gloved hand. I took it and let him take a one-step lead onto the ice. After a few seconds of getting my bearings, I began to glide more naturally.

Dr. Miller whipped ahead of me a few strides and then turned and began to skate backwards so we faced one another.

“And he can skate,” I gushed with a wide smile.

“I was a pond hockey hero as a teenager,” he joked, making me laugh.

“Let me guess, you're a Rangers fan.”

He shook his head. “Bruins, believe it or not. My father was from Boston.”

“Are you close with your dad?”

Dr. Miller slowed down a bit. “Yeah. He’s someone I’ve looked up to my whole life.”

I smiled and was about to say something but Dr. Miller twirled me in a circle and I was surprised how perfectly I spun around, only to come face to face with him again.

“Whoa.” I let out a laugh and he chuckled. “I don't know how I just did that.”

“Let the ice do the work.”

I stared out all around us for a moment. The giant frozen lake was surrounded on all sides by oversized pine trees still holding their green color, and just as many bare oak trees and maples and whatever else lingered in the thick forests. Houses were strategically plotted around the body of water, leaving plenty of room for privacy between each one. 

Beyond the tops of the trees, the darker black and blue colors pushed down on the pinkish-orange glow of the setting sun. It left a shimmer along the length of the ice.

“Come on.” Dr. Miller reached for my hand and we skated around aimlessly. I glanced around at the other properties. Some had lights on and others were barren. I wondered if the people who lived here were seasonal or lived here year round. Maybe they spent the summers here and used the house as a rental for couples like us throughout the winter.

“This is the best Valentine's Day I've ever had,” I told him. Ice skating outdoors in such a beautiful place made me feel like a kid again. “This is so much fun.”

Dr. Miller smiled and I slowed us both down to give him a kiss.

“Thank you,” I said again.

“You're welcome.” He rested a gloved hand on my cheek.

I looked down toward my skates and then back up. “Everything was fine in my life before, but I've never been this happy. I really just.. I love this. All of it.” I blurted out what I was feeling in that perfectly magical moment. “I love you, Joel.”

His expression changed and he pulled me back into him, hugging me tightly. With his lips to my ear he said quietly, as if he was telling me a secret, “I love you, too.”

Dr. Miller pulled back to face me. I smiled, his face was more serious but he managed a half-smirk. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders by confessing that to him; and him saying it back made me want to melt into a puddle on the ice.

He pulled me back into a hug and lifted my hat to kiss my forehead. I closed my eyes and sighed again into his chest. I didn't want to let him go.

Dr. Miller looked down at me. He pecked my lips. “I'm glad you had the courage to say it first. Because I was afraid you might run away if I did.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Between asking you to move in with me, and then depositing the money into your account. I thought saying something like that might completely overwhelm you.” He brushed some hair away from my face.

“Well, I'm glad I could take the lead on this one thing then,” I said to him. “I'm on board with all of it.”

“I’m glad you didn't leave that night,” Dr. Miller confessed. “Because I don't think I could sleep without you.”

“I didn't even make it halfway down to the gate,” I told him with a laugh.

“I know.” He leaned in and kissed me again.. and again. “I love you.”

I breathed out a big, smokey breath. I needed to say it again. “I love you, too.”

Dr. Miller took my hand and we skated back toward our little cabin where the lights in the windows led us back. Our shoes waited for us on the bank where we’d left them by the oversized rock. A light snow began to fall as we walked inside.

I took a deep breath and the warmth of the indoors welcomed me. The contrast was heavenly. 

Dr. Miller hung his jacket and scarf, and then made his way into the kitchen where we’d left the bags of food. He reached into one of them and retrieved a bottle of wine. Inside one of the cabinets he found two glasses.

I walked toward him, kicking off my shoes by the door first, and helped him locate a corkscrew.

“What do you say we take this outside?” He asked.

I glanced out the front windows where the snowfall was illuminated by the porch light. “Out there?”

Dr. Miller grinned. “I bet the hot tub temperature is about a hundred degrees.” He popped the cork out of the top of the wine bottle and poured us each a glass. “What do you say?”

I smirked and took one of the wine glasses from the counter, taking a sip. I placed it back down and let the lighter than air mood I was in guide me. I removed my jacket first and tossed it onto the back of a wooden rocking chair in the corner of the living room before peeling off the hooded sweatshirt I had on.

Dr. Miller snickered as I stood in my tank top and jeans before slowly lifting the sleeveless shirt up and over my head, tossing it away.

I never would have done this prior to being with him. Over the course of the relationship thus far I found myself becoming more and more comfortable in these types of situations.

I backed away toward the door, causing him to trail me there with the pair of wine glasses and ditched my pants on the way. My bra went next and I reached for Dr. Miller’s scarf on a hook by the door.

Donning just my skimpy underwear and the scarf, I turned, letting it fall over each of my breasts. He chuckled again and sucked his teeth as he approached where I stood by the door. Dr. Miller placed the glasses down on a small, wooden table.

“You're making a solid argument to stay inside,” he said, pulling me to him for a heated kiss.

“Mmm.. I was trying to make a case to go out.”

“I think you're underestimating my lack of willpower when it comes to you.” Dr. Miller shoved his hand down the front of my lacy, red panties and sighed in my ear as he pulled me against him.

My eyes closed when he nibbled on my neck and penetrated me with his middle two fingers. It was instant gratification; instant pleasure. I moaned quietly and gripped him hard.

“Mmm..” I took a breath, “Now you're making a good argument to stay inside.”

Dr. Miller removed his fingers but kept his hand against me beneath my underwear as he kissed me again. When he pulled back a few seconds later I reached for his hand, trying to pull him back to me.

He stepped back a few feet and just drank me in from head to toe. “That is the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life.” Dr. Miller visibly gritted his teeth and sighed out loud. “You in my scarf and those see-through panties.” He huffed a lusty breath, “Fuck.”

I ran my hands down both sides of the blue and white scarf and then turned and reached for the doorknob.

“I thought we were staying inside,” Dr. Miller said.

“From what I could tell from being out on the lake, there are no other houses nearby.” I smirked, “And it's not every day you get to have crazy sex outdoors in a hot tub.. in the middle of the woods.. in a snowstorm.”

“On Valentine's Day,” he added.

I opened the door and shuddered from the cold, “Are you coming?”

Dr. Miller snickered again. “I'm most definitely coming.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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[3-2-whump]

It Started with a Gray Hair

<prev next>

After a couple months' worth of balancing two jobs, hardly getting any sleep, and running himself ragged, Khaled finally snaps.

Thanks @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for the feedback on this chapter, I've applied your advice and hope you like what I did with it!

TW/CW: emotional angst, emotional whump, defiant whumpee (?) (whumpee loses his last fuck to give), slave whump, captivity whump, alcohol, very briefly mentioned food whump (like it's barely there but I'll tag it anyways), intimate whumper, dub con, hate sex

Khaled noticed it when he was towel-drying his hair in front of the mirror after a shower. He accepted it wasn’t a trick of the light as he blew his hair dry in front of the mirror, and he finally confirmed it was exactly as he feared when he combed through his wild floof. Standing starkly contrasted against the black night of his hair was a single silvery strand, long and twisted and brittle amongst strong sable waves.

There was a sharp rap on the door, accompanied by his master’s complaints. Khaled ignored it, still horrified by the discovery of his first gray hair. It was less about vanity for him more than it was a visible sign of the passage of time, of how much time he’d spent living under this man’s thumb. His hands unscrewed the pomade jar on autopilot. He went through the motions of dipping fingertips into the sticky substance and running them through his hair, thoughts racing all the while. He managed to hide the silvery offender –the only one, as far as he knew, though where there was one, there were probably more, and what was that under his eyes? Lines?

“Sometime today, Khaled!” Thomas yelled through the bathroom door.

“Almost done, Master!” he shouted back as he rinsed the hair product off his hands. He hastily dried them and opened the door, subconsciously straightening out his shirt collar as he righted his posture.

“Everything alright?” It was funny, how he almost sounded concerned.

“Fine,” Khaled lied. As if he was going to complain to a forty-something year old man about his first gray hair.

“Well let’s go! We’re going to be late for the reservation I made!”

The restaurant they drove to overlooked a harbor boasting a panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean, plus or minus a few barges, with the city skyline largely forgotten behind the vast blue expanse. Regretfully, the outdoor seating was closed for the season, with it already being late fall, so the mob boss and his slave got a table indoors, right next to the wide windows above the balcony.

Whatever hope Khaled had of forgetting about the passage of time was quickly dashed by the first course. “We’ll take the antipasti plate, cured meats on the side, and your 2015 Merlot, two glasses, leave the bottle.”

Khaled cleared his throat, getting Thomas and the waitress’ attention. “Just one glass, please,” he corrected. “I’ll take a water.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Thomas asked. Khaled shook his head. “Best give him a glass anyway,” he whispered not too subtly. The waitress dutifully wrote down their order before leaving them to their complimentary bread basket.

“Ah, 2015,” the boss reminisced with a sigh. “The year my grandfather passed and I became the head of the Costa Family, what a tumultuous year!”

Yeah, 2015, the year I was kidnapped and sold halfway across the world to you, Khaled remembered. He tried to wash away the bitter memory with the water the waitress had given him, but the icy cold drink only numbed the sensation for a moment. He halfheartedly smeared some butter onto a piece of bread and picked at the marinated olives on their shared plate as his master kept reminiscing about how much time they had spent together.

“That was also the year I got you, wasn’t it?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you remember how small you were back then?” Thomas popped a salted almond into his mouth, chewing it only for a second before answering for him. “You were 5’1” and barely 90 lbs, a scrawny little thing. Then, with enough food and shelter and a stable environment-”

Khaled nearly choked on an ice cube.

“-you hit your growth spurt and made up for lost time!” The older man laughed, taking a hearty sip of his wine. “As soon as I bought you clothes that fit, you would need them replaced! You shot up like a weed over those first two years, and now look at you!”

Look at me now, Khaled bitterly echoed. His gaze flitted to the deep ruby liquid in his master’s wine glass, and then to the opaque green bottle set in the middle of their table. If he was going to make it through the rest of this dinner, he might change his mind about the merlot after all.

The man across from him helped himself to a slice of prosciutto from the side plate. “You’re a handsome young man, now twenty-two years old, 5’8”, 138 lbs. You’re built like a whippet, svelte and sexy in all the right places,” he crooned, throwing in a wink. “It has been nothing but a pleasure spending all these years with you.”

The bread on his tongue felt as dry as ashes in Khaled’s mouth. “I think I will take some of that wine, thanks,” he murmured. He leaned over the table to reach for the wine, but Thomas beat him to it.

Their hands touched on the neck of the wine bottle, two sources of warmth meeting on cold slender glass. Khaled shot his master a questioning look, only to receive a cryptically soft gaze in response. “Allow me.” Thomas took the bottle and effortlessly filled the spare wine glass. “Here you are,” he said, passing it to Khaled with a fond smile. Their hands met once again, the older man’s touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary on the neck of the wine glass as he stared into Khaled’s eyes. There was something softening the look in those steely-gray eyes, and it wasn’t just the candlelight ambiance. This look was warm and cozy, almost comforting like a fresh cup of tea; nothing like the fiery and lustful glances that promised Khaled equal measures of pleasure and pain. At least Khaled was used to the latter type of looks. The way Thomas looked at him now was almost as if –but no, Khaled thought, he’s just playing it up because we’re out in public.

“Aren’t you going to eat any more of this?” Thomas asked, waving down toward the sliced cheeses and grapes and nuts. Khaled hated how concerned his master sounded, making it sound like he cared.

“I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was,” he replied. He threw back the glass of wine and let the liquid pour down his throat, just to give his mouth anything to do other than talk to the man across from him.

“Oh, come on, Khaled, you know the dietary rules don’t apply on your birthday! At least eat something to absorb all that wine you’re inhaling?”

Brushing uncomfortably past the reminder that today was his birthday –the seventh birthday he had spent in slavery to his master, owner, and abuser –Khaled polished off the rest of his wine, instantly tipping his glass forward in a nonverbal request for more. “Why should you care?” he asked.

“Because maybe I care about you.” Thomas refilled his wine glass. He did that thing with his voice again, using the tone that sounded as if he were genuinely concerned. He was looking at him in that same soft and worrisome way as before. Khaled decided that he hated it. It made sense that the man would be concerned about his $150k asset, but anything vaguely resembling more than that was just …wrong.

He made a show of turning his head all about the restaurant, clocking how few patrons there actually were on a Monday night. “You can drop the act you know,” he murmured. “There is no one within five tables around ours, so you can cut the crap and just be yourself, Master.” The title left his tongue like a bitter epithet.

“Cut the –Khaled, what are you talking about?”

Oh, so he’s going to play dumb? Fine! You want to fuck with me, I’m the King of Dumb –wait, hold on. Khaled tipped back his second glass of wine, not stopping until the whole vessel was drained. Whether it was the insincere gestures of concern, or the accumulation of remarks about how much time had been stolen from him, or whatever the hell these soft and warm looks were, Khaled had decided he’d had enough. “I mean, stop being so goddamn nice to me, stop acting like we’re good friends or boyfriends or whatever lie you told these people when you made our reservations, and please, please, please, stop acting like you care about me beyond what I can do for you in bed!”

A few patrons turned their heads toward their table, since Khaled had raised his voice a little at that last statement. The mob boss glanced around with a flicker of nervousness in those gray eyes. “Khaled, baby, calm down,” he soothed quietly, opting to go for damage control.

Wrong choice of words, fucker! Khaled scoffed loudly, emboldened by the alcohol in his system. “You bought me, at fifteen years old, like an object, and you brought me into your empty, soulless home for what exactly? To leave me chained up and alone to slowly lose my mind for the first year I was imprisoned with you?” He slammed his empty wineglass against the table with enough force to rattle the silverware. “Nobody even treats their dog that badly!” he shouted.

“Khaled, keep your voice down, you’re drawing attention-”

The hypocrisy nearly made Khaled laugh. How dare you care about drawing attention onto us now, of all times! “And then,” Khaled continued, retelling his story as he raised his voice on purpose, “you took me to work with you and kept me on an extremely short leash, while the rest of the mafia treated me like the plague! Do you have any idea what they would say about me when you weren’t there? All the names they called me that I didn’t understand? Well, you made me understand, didn’t you?” His master reached out to hold his hand, but Khaled smacked it away, rising from the table to put even further distance between them. “Four years ago, this very night, the night of my eighteenth birthday, you made me understand, didn’t you?!”

“Khaled, shut up!” Thomas raised himself from the table, his livid eyes narrowed threateningly as he stared the young man down.

“You treated me like a whore –no, worse than a whore! You broke and violated my body nearly every night for years on end! You dolled me up and passed me around to your boys like a party favor until I was thrown away like garbage-” Khaled furiously blinked back the stinging sensation in his eyes “-back into your arms when they’d had their fill!”

A small squeak in their periphery interrupted their intense staring match. “U-um, excuse me, have you gentlemen decided on your entrees yet?” the waitress timidly interrupted. Both men fell silent as they realized the weight of a dozen stares were on their table, with both patrons and staff tensely watching them as they fought.

Thomas composed himself first. “No, thanks, I think we’re done here,” he answered gruffly. He reached into his coat pocket and fished out a few $100 bills. “Sorry for the inconvenience,” he muttered as he pressed the cash into the woman’s hands and strode purposefully towards the exit. Khaled himself muttered a quiet “sorry” before he followed his master out the restaurant, where they both picked up their argument where they had left off as soon as they reached the parking lot.

“What was that?” the mob boss shouted. “Fuck, boy, what is wrong with you tonight?!”

“What’s wrong with me?! I wasn’t the one who went out and bought a teenager to turn into their personal bed warmer!” Khaled screamed. “I wasn’t the one who stripped him of his clothes and wrapped him in silk and pimped him out to strangers he barely knew! I wasn’t the one who tore down everything he loved about himself-” Khaled’s voice broke on a wet sob he couldn’t suppress, “–everything that made him unique, to wring all the hopes and dreams from his broken body, just to build up whatever I wanted from his remains!” He raised an accusatory finger at the man he called his master. “That was you, you did that, that was all you!”

A brief grimace of an unnamed emotion flickered across his master’s face, disappearing before it could even be named. “You’re making it out to be way worse than it was!” he defended himself. He shook his head as he grabbed Khaled’s elbow and started steering him toward the car. “See if I ever let you drink again, fuck,” he muttered.

“Get off me!” Khaled yanked his elbow away from Thomas’ grip. He bit his trembling lip and swiped away the tears in his eyes. Any and all pretense of wanting to appear strong was abandoned as Khaled angrily wept.

“I could have loved you, you know!” He wrapped his arms around himself as his posture crumpled, squeezing himself in a hug as if he were desperately trying to hold his shattered pieces together for a little longer, if only so long as it took him to finish his damning indictment. “You wouldn’t know this, but I don’t have a father, at least not anymore,” he shuddered through ragged breaths, “but for a little bit, I thought I had you. If you had just been a little kinder, a little more understanding, if you had never touched me like that at all, I could have loved you like a father, and I think I was about to! But you didn’t love me, and I know you never did!”

“Hey, that is just not true!” Khaled heard the crunch of gravel under expensive leather shoes. A shadow cast over him as the mob boss leaned over the young man.

“Why didn’t you love me?!” Khaled glared up at him through his mess of tears. “What was it about me that justified pouring out all your wrath and your lust against me?! Why was it so hard to love me?! Am I unlovable, is that it?! Why-”

A rough hand grabbed him by his hair and tugged him forward. Khaled’s rant was smashed against a regrettably familiar pair of warm lips as Thomas brought him in for a kiss. Khaled clawed at the front of the man’s chest, fighting with a fervor he had not had since the early days to try and put the distance back between them. He groaned in protest against those smothering lips as his master maneuvered both their bodies and flipped Khaled back-first onto the hood of a car. Thomas broke the kiss and quickly covered Khaled’s mouth with his hand before the young man could say anything else. “You want me to love you?” he growled. “What does it look like I’ve been doing?!” Khaled thrashed against the hand on his mouth and the body pressing him down inch by inch into the chrome hood of the car. “I have been nothing but sweet with you for months now, but if that’s not what love looks like to you, I could always go back to what I had done before!”

The statement that would’ve struck terror and fear into him before now just made Khaled even more angry. He had finally freed one of his arms from where it had been pinned and scratched at his owner’s face. Thomas recoiled and let go of Khaled’s mouth on instinct to catch Khaled’s wrist in a punishingly tight grip. It wasn’t long before he had both of Khaled’s wrists pinned in one hand in front of him.

Khaled glared at him as he struggled against his master’s hold. “Touch me like that again, and I will scream,” he promised.

His master scowled, but ultimately released him and stepped away, allowing Khaled to peel himself off the hood of the car. They were still in a restaurant parking lot, after all. “At least wait until we’re in the car, you fucking savage!” he muttered.

They had just made it to the back of the boss’ Bentley when Thomas tried to grab Khaled in one hand and open the backseat door with another. Khaled dodged, and as Thomas reached for him to pull him into the car, he pushed into the man’s body and sent him falling backwards. His back met the seat of the backseat with a satisfying thud. Khaled wasted no time in climbing on top of him and closing the car door behind him.

“Cut this shit out!” the older man yelled, trying to sit himself up from where he fell.

“No!” Khaled pushed him down by the sternum. His master, in turn grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head back to bare his neck. The sudden pull made Khaled gasp. The warm, moist pair of lips kissing at his Adam’s apple made him involuntarily groan. He blindly clawed at his master while his head was craned up to the car roof. The pair of lips against his throat murmured a breathy request against his skin. “Let’s do it, here, now.”

Once the hand in his hair let Khaled go to begin tearing off his shirt, Khaled snapped his head back to stare down at him. “I’ll ride,” he said. Thomas blinked up at him as his hands retreated from Khaled’s waistband. “I’ll ride,” he repeated, his tone assertive and acerbic. His fingers moved over the button and fly of his pants before his brain could keep up with what he had demanded. Thomas mirrored the motions as he undid his pants and quickly whipped out his hardening member. “You have taken so much from me, you can at least allow me this, Master.” He pushed his pants and underwear down to his ankles, taking them off entirely before climbing on top of the dumbstruck man again.

Khaled straddled his master’s hips, splitting himself in half on his master’s cock as he gripped the front passenger seat and the back seat to steady himself. A pair of roughly calloused hands maintained an iron grip on his hips, but Khaled had set the speed on his own, pushing himself up and down the rigid shaft at a brutally masochistic pace. The familiar stinging burning sensation accompanied every movement as he pushed himself to his limits, but Khaled didn’t care. This was the most control he’d ever had –more like the most control he’d been allowed to have with his owner, and as he kept hitting that sweet spot inside of him with every punishing thrust, the repugnant act finally began to feel good.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He did both.

“Fuck me!” Khaled looked below, into the eyes of the man he was riding. The mob boss was a mess, with his short blonde hair mussed up, top three shirt buttons undone, and outer suit coat long forgotten. “I don’t know what I did to get you so worked up, but I should do it again if it gets you this eager!”

“Shut up!”

One of the hands let go of Khaled’s hips to slap him across the cheek. “That is no way to talk to your Master!”

Undeterred, Khaled kept riding. After every abuse that he’d endured, there was no way a mere backhand was going to stop him. He felt himself smiling, a dark and twisted little upturn gracing his lips. “Oh, I know you missed this, you sick son of a fuck!” he gloated. “I figured those girls in the whorehouses could only satisfy you for so long! I am your perfect plaything, doing exactly what you have trained me to do!” His pace was becoming erratically frenzied as he sought release from the ever-mounting pleasure. Thomas bucked his hips into Khaled’s, trying to keep up with him as he squeezed the young man’s hips impossibly tight. That’s right, I can’t cum yet, not until he cums at least, I’ve got to get him to cum first, Khaled reminded himself.

“So, so tight –you’re gonna rip my dick off, Khaled!”

“What are you complaining for?! You wanted this!” he screamed. He was close, so close, he just had to hold out a little more-

A strangled mix between a roar and a moan erupted underneath him as a familiar pulse of hot seed injected deep within. Khaled didn’t take much longer to cum after that, spilling himself over imported cotton as he rode through the high of his climax. His grip on the front and back seats slackened, knees and thighs trembling with the effort to keep himself seated on the man’s cock. When Thomas finally let go of his hips to gently guide him down onto his chest –face first into the puddle of his own spend –Khaled went down limply without a fight. He rested his head against his master’s chest, picking up the sound of the older man’s heartbeat and the smell of cologne and sweat and sex radiating off his broad body.

“Holy fuck, Khaled.” Thomas’ voice rumbled in his ribcage as his fingers idly played with Khaled’s hair. “That was kinda hot-”

“Nope,” Khaled cut off, “stop talking. Please.” Fortunately, this time, he listened.

The mob boss and his slave fell into a contemplative silence as they lay against each other. The silence only broke by the fingers in Khaled’s hair, stopping as they twirled a single lock of hair. “Oh my god, is that a gray hair?” the man asked incredulously.

Khaled laughed/cried again.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@defire

[imagineredwood]

3. Roses 🌹

Summary: Miguel always spoils you, but especially on Valentine’s Day.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content. CONSENSUAL drunken sex,

Word count: 1.2K

A/n: I know these were supposed to be drabbles but my fingers had a kind of their own and kept typing 🤐

“Jesus. How much did this cost??”

You looked over at Miguel incredulously, still in shock by the what looked like hundreds of roses all bunched together neatly in the round case. The bright scarlet petals were dusted with a gold shimmer on the very tips, something that made the arrangement look even more expensive. Loose petals scattered on the tile leading out to the pool. Miguel grinned, his hand coming to snake around your waist as he kissed the very tip of your nose.

“Don’t worry about that. You’re priceless, and your gifts should be priceless. I have much more set up for us.”

With that, he squeezed your side gently, ushering you to follow the petals. You walked behind the trail out to the pool, finding that the usual warm white lights that were strung up were now in soft shades of pink, the entire backyard having a pale pink hue. The table was set up elegantly, an ice bucket right in front with chilled bottles of your favorite champagne and wine. A long charcuterie board with all your favorite cheeses and fruits, candied jams and specialty nuts. A tray of glistening chocolate covered strawberries sat off to the left, some with drizzles over top and others with sprinkles. There was a fondue machine towards the back and Miguel motioned over to the side where the outdoor kitchen was, two chefs moving around silently as they cooked.

“The main course will be done in half hour. Sit down and let me pour you a drink.”

You smiled, smoothing your hands over the back of the dress Miguel had picked out for you to wear and took a seat. He held up a wine glass and a flute, letting you choose which you wanted first, pouring one for you and one for him before he came to sit down beside you. He held out your glass and you took it, your mouth curling into a smile as you took a sip. Miguel’s smile mirrored yours, always loving to see you enjoy something, regardless of what it was.

“Good?”

“Great.”

“Only the best for my girl.”

Your eyes crinkled in the corners as you settled into his side, his hand coming to rest on the knee of your leg that was peeking out through the slit in your dress.

You both drank and ate and talked and laughed, well once the table was nearly empty and everyone save for the guards had gone home. You were both tipsy and giggly, as well as touchy. The wine and champagne had made you feel flushed, but Miguel’s wandering hands the entire night had served to do the same despite the soft chill of the night air. You swallowed down the last of the wine in your glass, eyes glazed as you looked at your husband.

“You always treat me so well. You spoil me.”

The cartel leader smiled softly, hand leaving your thigh to instead gently take hold of your chin.

“You deserve all of this and more.”

It was true. He viewed you as if you had been the one to hang the moon and all of the stars in the sky. You were everything to him. The only woman for him. People had said that once he was married, the novelty would die down. That you both would get comfortable, and the spark would dwindle. ‘Happens to every marriage at some point.’ People said. And Miguel was determined to make sure that didn’t ever happen to the two of you. So, he made it a point to always shower you in love, attention, affection, and gifts, never wanting the honeymoon phase to go away. And so far he had been successful, much to your appeasement.

Your eyes fluttered in your tipsy state, lashes heavy and seductive as you looked at him, a perfectly manicured finger running down the buttons of his white shirt.

“Maybe we could take a shower now.”

Miguel nodded, hand reaching for yours so he could bring it up to his lips, pressing an adoring kiss to your knuckles.

“That sounds like a great idea, mi amor.”

You were both up and off then, gaits a bit messy from the alcohol, giggles and snickers being shared amongst the two of you as you bumped into walls and corners in your haste to get upstairs. By the time you had, you both were sure there’d be slight bruises to your hips from all the edges you wandered into. That was the last thing on your mind though as you both stumbled into the bathroom, lips locked, hands wandering. It didn’t take long for your dress to be unzipped and discarded, Miguel’s button up tossed somewhere over in the corner. Your mouths were messy, hands even messier. A few bumped teeth and bent back thumbs earning laughs from the two of you.

The giggles remained even when he was inside of you, the air light and fun. When he pinched his finger putting you up on the counter. When you threw your head back and knocked it against the mirror. Miguel’s life was dangerous, as was yours by default, so carefree moments like this were what made it all worth it. It was the coil in your stomach that brought about more seriousness as you clung to him, legs locked around his waist as he pounded into you, the vase on the counter wobbling and rocking slightly

“God, you feel so good, Miguel.”

He grunted, cock twitching within you at your praise.

“So perfect. Just for me.”

He cursed, willing himself to hold back, never liking to be the one to come first. Granted, he had already made you come twice, once with his fingers and another with his mouth, but he still wanted you to be the one to come first. Your words weren’t going to make it easy for him though.

“You always know how to get me, preciosa.”

You laughed, Miguel shuddering as your walls clenched and tightened with your chuckling.

“Fuck, stop that.”

His words only served to make you laugh more, your drunken brain not able to understand.

“Stop what? I thought you liked my laugh. You always said it was cute.”

He nodded, a small laugh of his own leaking out.

“I do. And it is. But not when I’m trying not to come.”

It clicked then and Miguel shook his head as your lips formed an O, now understanding.

“My apologies.”

You had meant to stop laughing. Truly, you had. But now you had the giggles, and they didn’t seem to be going anywhere or stopping any time soon. So, you laughed, and laughed more at Miguel’s clenched jaw, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead as he struggled, cursing as he spilled within you. Your giggles died down as he settled, your eyes enamored as they looked at him with not an ounce of disappointment, only love.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

Miguel nodded, understanding.

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me one.”

At that you quirked a brow, leaning up to tease him.

“I’d think you owe me one, actually.”

With a shake of his head, Miguel pulled out and nodded, a worryingly mischievous look in his eye as he agreed then sunk down to his knees before you, his breath chilling the mess that was spread over your lips and inner thighs.

“You’re absolutely right.”

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @gangstaliciou06

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

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[hocuspocusbabyy]

Home: Eloise x Cressida. 18+ 🦢🕊️

Warnings: Affairs, outdoor sex, love declarations and cunnilingus.

Description: Eloise and Cressida go hunting.

Parring: Eloise Bridgerton and Cressida Cowper.

'We’re not far from the clearing'' Cressida stated, her riding boots ankle deep in mud. Wading through the woodlands on the outskirts of the estate. Thick branches wove their path blocking the view ahead, allowing no further than three feet of their journey observed. A low hum of creatures leaked through the marsh. Cressida was no stranger to the forest, many of her early years had been spent chasing deer, rabbits and foxes. Her origin.

''Have caution, Cress I beg of you.” Eloise wagered, trolling on behind her friend. She did not ask unnecessary questions, nor provide unwanted aid as so many other hunting companions and for that Cressida had always been grateful.

“Once a hunter, always a hunter.” Cressida mused, cutting away at the vines before her, “however, I will try my best to avoid any close encounters.” The blonde laughed at her own words, her chin flicking back to view her companion. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you Lou.” She winked.

''Always the gentleman.” Eloise complimented, shaking her head slowly as she surveyed their surroundings. A thick smog surged around them, the smell garnered attention. Thick frost encapsulates the ground, snow bunching around their boots as they thimbled through the forest.

The pair walked further into the woods, mud slowly converging into snow.''Whatever possessed you to join me hunting?'' Cressida asked curiously. Her gun flat against her side as she swayed to view the other woman.

''I decided, you were right. I should get out more and explore the world ‘outside of books’, it is an added bonus to have decent company” she admitted, a book stuffed with flower clipping and drawings from their adventures pressed on her chest.

Cressida smirked, ''well, if you are not to curse me, I will be sure to make a habit of telling you things you need to hear.”

‘’Oh how so fond I am of your habits.” The brunette sighed, attempting to strike down a particular stubborn grove of trees with her book.

“Eloise?” Cressida questioned, stepping forward, gently placing an arm in front of the other woman. A hand softly grasping her elbow, travelling along its roots to halt her hand. Eloise’s movements ceased, her chin downcast a strand of hair affecting her eyes.

“I merely wished to spend time with you.” She stated, motioning her head up in an attempt to do away with the irritating sensation. “I do not know what will come of this.” A strong hand coming up to tuck the strand away, found purchase at her face.

To look into those eyes was to teeter on the brink of an abyss.

Cressida strung her thumb against the brunette's flesh, tracing the accent of bone there. Slowly dislodging the book from her companion and striking the mass of foliage down herself with the top of her gun.

“I could have done that.” Eloise argued, her breath slightly laboured.

“I know.” Cressida shrugged, brushing off the book's cover and handing it back, “that does not mean you should have to.”

Eloise shook her head, rolling her eyes in the most unlady-like fashion before stalking ahead knowing full well the blonde would follow.

They walked for what seemed like hours. Finally stumbling upon an groundsman cabin at the edge of the estate. Eloise pushed the old hatch door with surprising force, inviting the blonde in from the cold.

”well hurry up then,” The brunette called out, already making haste towards the fireplace, battling with her corset as she bent down. Small flame whipping up at her hand as she stuck the flint, till a dim light gripped the glass wall of the outhouse.

“I fear I am turning numb” Cressida whispered crouching down beside Eloise, raising her hands up to the other woman. Her fingers stained red by the harsh November air, the slender tips white and frozen to Eloise’s touch as she reached out to squeeze them.

A soft glow cast upon her cheek, the perfectly sharp cheekbones, crescent of her nose… dimples chin.

Something within Cressida seemed to constantly burn, it unnerved her. As incongruous to her true temperature. If Eloise were a moth, she would be her flame.

“Miss Cowper, you’ll freeze surly. How could you withstand such temperatures for so long? Where are your gloves?!” The brunette panicked, rubbing the other woman’s hands firmly between her own. Truly she had been far too occupied with the other parts of Cressida to notice their absence.

“Well my face was already pained by smiling too much, I figured a little frostbite was a small price to pay for a moment longer with you.” Cressida shrugged, her gaze flicking down to watch Eloise cup her hands and blow onto them gently.

“I see.” Eloise mumbled, desperately trying to hide the smirk that threatened to grace her features. Her breath heavy upon the cold winter air, as though smoke, held an oddly comforting sensation for Eloise. Her lips dipping down to kiss the blonde's palms.

“You know if you wanted my attention there are far warmer ways to go about it.

The brunette, hunched down tending the other woman’s hands, gently rolling them between her own as her lips travelled down to her wrists. The smooth flesh resting upon her pulse.

“Eloise.” Cressida gasped as the warm flick of a tongue swept across her veins. “I do crave your attention. However I refuse to humiliate myself by asking for it.”

“Then do not ask.” Eloise whispered, a firm kiss against the blondes palm as she drew back to face her. “Isn’t it about time you did something selfish for once?”

“Eloise.” Cressida whined, her head lulling as the brunette pressed her lips to the tip of her index finger. The rest spread within her firm grip. Flexing beneath her motion.

“Do you feel that?” Eloise mumbled, her mouth working its way across each finger till she reached her thumb.

“A li—little” Cressida gasping as the brunette's teeth sunk into the thenar of her left hand. Tiny indentation littering the web space.

“Just a little?” Eloise teased blowing air upon the space, watching in awe as the skin of the blondes hand lurched beneath. Goosebumps erect and solid as the brunette continued her menstruations upon Cressida’s arm. Cool to the touch and all the more delicious to the tip of her tongue. “And now.”

“It is the strangest sensation.” Cressida breathed, the ability to decipher the sentiment lost. How was one to describe something so pleasant? As though untroubled light, quintessential and affable.

“Would you prefer I stop?” Eloise asked, pulling back to gaze at the other woman. Her fringe muses and feathered against her face, a frame that ought to be ornate as to house such striking features. Her cheeks robust and thick with tint, the blondes hands rose to brush across them. First with the backs of her fingers the cool touch causing the shorter woman to shiver. Her knuckles pulled in lightly at her flesh, a sickening motive of possession gripped Cressida as she turned her palms towards the other woman’s face.

The pads of her thumbs wiping beneath the Bridgerton girl's face, pulling at her burning cheeks till her fingers curled and settled beneath her jaw.

“It should be immoral to look as you do.” The blonde complimented, an awe stuck expression grazing her face. “Every motion, a transgression I cannot help but chase.”

Cressida's face fell forward, the crisp touch of her nose brushing against Eloise’s own. Clouds of cold breath lingering around them as they simply coexisted. The warmth of the others breath hot against their face.

“Do you wish to unknow me?” Eloise asked after a moment, her lips so close to the other woman’s that they touched as she spoke.

“I do not know you.” Her chest was tight, her fingers mapping the contours of Eloise’s back. Counting each notch of spine below her bodice, as water circling a drain. Washing her away.

“You know me better than anyone ever has.” Eloise argued, her mouth pressed upon the underside of Cressida’s jaw.

They did not understand it, this desire to consume another. Be devoured in return. obtain the scars as proof they were paying for the sins committed. If loving Eloise were a sin, Cressida would happily wear her sacrilege.

Eloise bit her. A growing heat upon her neck as the brunette dove into her, sucking until the flesh burst and coloured beneath her tongue.

“My greatest honour.” The blonde promised, extending her neck to the other woman. Her back pressed girly against the frosty glass as Eloise worked to mark her. The conflicting messages of November air upon her neck and Eloise’s tongue etching language into her flesh. Cressida felt as though every word she had ever uttered were meaningless in comparison to the words which she felt when Eloise spoke again.

“You smell of something floral. I could not tell you how many nights I have spent in these very gardens trying to replicate this scent.”

“And what did you find?” Cressida asked her hand raising to grasp the other woman’s neck, fingers tangled, tethered to the soft tissue. Her nails lingered up across the dip in her dress, before slipping beneath. Her palm cold against the burning flesh of Eloise’s shoulders.

“Nothing of interest.” Eloise deadpanned, her kisses becoming lethargic and long upon her neck. Her fingers racing to play with the thrills of Cressida’s dress. “I doubt I’d ever be able to replicate something so purely built of you.”

The blonde couldn’t help but grin at those words, a smooth warmth spreading throughout her body. She knew my story before I even knew how to tell it. As though she’d seen a map Cressida had no hand in making, intended footpaths, passed by and new trails formed for only her.

Whatever it were in this world that binds us all… dust, blood, consciousness, they are of a similar thread. Different species of trees planted side by side… Eloise is the one she’d choose the fruit off.

Eloise found herself willing to share that part with her, just as Cressida must share those parts of her. Their last thought at night, she were the first of the day. Left to linger in one another’s personhood. Eloise read Cressida as though she had been blank on every page, just waiting to be deciphered, filled and known.

“Eloise.” Cressida whispered, her hands trailing across the span of her shoulder blade. Gripping harshly as the sensation of teeth ran along her clavicle.

“Forgive me, I forget myself.” Eloise breathed, looking up but never stepping back. Her hands reaching up touch Cressida’s face, “Are you feeling any warmer dear?” She whispered, turning her palms away to graze the blushing with her knuckles.

“Substantially.” The blonde laughed gently, her own hands tracing along the length of Eloise’s arms. Fingernails dragging up towards her jaw line, as though tracing her likeness.

The brunette was turned to blush, a mirror to her companion as they both simply allowed to explore one another. Finger tips to earlobes, thumbs up on knees, lips against chests. Eloise’s hands trailed up the blondes back before tearing down at the garment. Pulling it from her flesh. Eloise, even now staring upon the other woman’s bare chest, she could only yearn for more.

“This space here.” The brunette started pulling the other woman’s attention to her fossa, Eloise’s thumb applying gentle pressure to the notch. “I love this place, I cannot for the life of me rem—what is it called?” She asked her fingers trailing lightly to her sternum in awe, “I claim this.”

“I thought we were against ownership?” Cressida breathed. Baring her teeth to the bridgerton girl in a soft smile, sedated by the bit of her lip. Something cunning to her disposition.

“Sometimes it pays to be selfish.” Eloise whispers against her throat before drawing a line across each notch with her tongue. Breaking out into a smile as the blonde shared her laughter. Her bare chest still pressed into the brunette’s cloak.

“Wait—wait, turn over.” The blonde starts, directing her lover to turn, “I wish to see you.” Cressida offers, her fingers pulling gently at the ties, till Eloise was freed of her confinements. “This.” She demanded pushing the final thread from the other woman’s body and tapping at the birthmark just below her waist. Browned skin no bigger than her thumb. “This is mine.”

Eloise glanced down, the alpine of her skin foreign to her with Cressida’s hands upon it.

“I stand bare before you and you stake claim to measly imperfection.” Eloise laughed, her hands waving lovingly between strangers of Cressida’s hair pushing it back, the blonde lowering to her knees.

Her lips chasing eager kisses with rushed breath. Reaching for any piece of skin available to her. Her teeth bumped along the edge of the brunette's hip, tongue curling across the joining of her ribs.

“There is no part of me that does not worship you.” Cressida declared her eyes flicking up to watch the brunette. Her face suddenly became so much closer as she reached down and grasped the back of her, pulling them each half way.

Their lips are harsh, brazen and lethargic across each other. Cressida’s tongue swirled upon her own as Eloise gasped and shook against her.

“When were you most happy?” Eloise asked between kisses.

“Now.” Cressida grins pecking at the other woman’s

cheek. The brunette fumbled with her own pleasure and she pondered her new question.

“When were you least happy?”

“Now.” The answer came again, thick against her lips.

“What do you love?” Eloise asked again, her lips trailing along the span of Cressida's neck, littering her chest and finally ghosting along her nipple. “Say everything.”

“Let’s see.” The blonde mumbled almost unsure of herself, “grass, fields with horses in them. Swans. I love Swans.”

“What else?” Eloise begged her knees firm against the hard wooden floor.

“Marmalade. I'm addicted. Baths, though not with other people.” The blonde jokes, relishing in the motion of the other woman blushing against her leg. “Shopping.” She continued a shudder as the brunette's tongue licked at the apex of her thigh. A beat of silence “Your handwriting.”

“Cress” She whispered the warm air welcome against Cressida’s heat.

“Christ Eloise, do you not want me?”Before finally the other woman sucked her clit forward. Feverish, febrile and hysterical. Eager to draw out the many sounds of Miss Cowper.

TBC.

[kuroosdarling]

happy birthday tetsu

♡‧₊˚ featuring : kuroo x reader

♡‧₊˚ wc: 3k

♡‧₊˚ contents: MDNI !! mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, outdoor sex (ur on a balcony), spanking, praise/degradation, pet names (kuroo says kitten once), slight choking/breath play, creampie,

♡‧₊˚ synopsis: it’s kuroos birthday and he’s always had something on his list he’s wanted to cross off. what better time than the present?

a/n: the last installment of dear tetsu hehe it’s only a month late .. no biggie <3 thank you to everyone who has read these lil fics and left feedback !! i cherish y’all sm :) <3

dear tetsu ♡

it was finally kuroo’s birthday. while he had practically ignored the impending day all month, you had taken all the needed preparations this year to make it the best. reservations at his favorite restaurant, his favorite brand of bubbly sitting on ice, and you had even bought a new lingerie set for him, one that was a deep red, lacy and had a cute garter belt that pulled it all together. all of his favorites.

he wore one of his best suits to dinner while you wore one of the dresses he loved to see on you — the one that hugged all your curves just right. but the moment the two of you got home, kuroo had insisted on wearing your matching robes. his was longer, and fluffy while yours was short and silky. the dork only called them matching because they’re the same color.

“it’s a beautiful night.” you comment as you walk out, the nighttime chill hitting your exposed skin as you overlook the balcony. the dark, metal railing cools your fingers as you lightly place them on there to glance out at the view. all the city lights were up in a full display, sparkling in the distance.

“it sure is.” kuroo agrees, you turn to face him and see his gaze already set on you, a soft smile resting on his features. you smile back at his cheesiness but let him embrace you anyway. he presses you closer to him, claiming something about needing to warm you up since your robe barely did a thing to help.

“you’re the one that wanted to change into these.” you pout as you look up at him.

“actually, i just wanted to see what was under it. so why don’t you just…” he trails off as he attempts to wrap his fingers around the robes tie, threatening to undo it in one fluid motion – something he has done countless times.

“no wait!” you squeal, almost hopping back from him. he lets out a smooth chuckle, letting his hand fall to his side. “we have to have our champagne first!”

“always such a tease.” he sighs before smiling at you. “fine, fine. it’s on the table inside, grab it for us?” he kisses your cheek. you nod and waste no time in grabbing the chilled bottle from the bed of ice it was comfortably nestled in.

the moment you came back outside, kuroo’s large hands found your waist, pulling you into him so he can place a delicate kiss on the top of your head. while you were gone, he had put on some music, the beat softly playing in the background. the song the two of you had your first dance to flits through your ears, pulling your heartstrings as he spins you around, his laughter beautifully mixing in with the melody.

you twirl around with the champagne bottle in hand, no doubt shaking up the contents that lie within it. kuroo watches with a fond smile on his face, reaching over to grab your hand to pull you in. seeing you under the moonlight – basking in the glow from the city lights and laughing to your hearts content has him falling in love with you all over again.

the lengths you would go to make his birthday special tugs at his heart, gently squeezing it as the love you have for him wraps around it, securing it in place - something he never thought he’d get. for his own walls were brought down to let you into his heart, for it to safely lie in your hands.

you stumble towards him as you lose your footing. you're able to catch yourself but the bottle pops, the cork launching itself to the other side of the balcony. you and kuroo peel your eyes away from the traitorous cork that was spinning on the ground to look at one another.

all you can do is laugh, both of you absolutely doused in the sweet bubbly liquid. kuroo joins in, cupping your cheek and curling his fingers around your soft skin before pulling you in closer.

“looks like we made quite the mess.” he purrs, his lips ghost over yours before moving to the side. his tongue pokes out to gently lick the champagne that lingers on you, savoring it’s taste as he presses his lips against your skin. your breath hitches – the sound drawing him in closely, gripping your hip tighter as it rushes to his head. the previous fun and lively energy zapped into something more intimate, an invisible magnetic field drawing the two of you closer together.

“guess we should clean it up.” you murmur back, licking near the corner of his mouth, making sure to get the champagne off of him. you felt a drop flow down your neck, making its way down your chest. he couldn’t help but duck his head down, licking the drop all the way back. his wet, warm tongue slowly slid back up the column of your neck before finding its home right under you ear, his words kissing the sensitive skin.

“if you insist.” he peppers kisses along your jaw, his lips chasing to meet yours — colliding with a spark, fueled by the everlasting love you held for each other, stubbornly refusing to ever burn out. the passion and desire rapidly build, his hands desperately digging into the plush of your hips so he can pull you in impossibly close. your hands weave up into his hair, tugging it towards you to reach a better angle.

he breaks the kiss almost too soon — completely out of breath as he takes in your appearance. he watches as your chest rises up and down, almost heaving against the thin fabric of your robe. his eyes darken as his mind fills with a new idea, one that he has been wanting to do for awhile. and what better time for it if not his birthday?

he towers over you, reaching his hand out to rub down your sides before hooking his finger in the loop of your robes tie. his middle finger slips into the loose knot, circling around so he has enough room to add his ring finger before pulling the fabric towards him so it effortlessly falls open.

his eyes meet yours as he takes his time, fingers moving far slower than you want him to – his teasing going straight to your head. he always loves seeing you all riled up, loves getting you to feel so desperate that all you can do is beg for him to do something. and paired with the look he is giving you right now? he wasn’t messing around.

with the same hand, he takes the two strings and unravels them, sliding it out of the loops and off of you. the fabric races around the curve of your waist as kuroo pulls at it, dangling it off to the side before he unceremoniously drops it to the ground.

your robe falls open, his hand immediately making contact with your bare skin as he rubs circles against your hip, admiring the set you had on for him.

“this new?” his voice grew an octave deeper as he runs his hand all over the lacy fabric. his eyes don't leave your body, fixating on the beautiful garment you were wearing just for him.

“yes.” you breathe out, the involuntary pull between you two has him leaning closer, drawn in by the ever-fading perfume that lingers on your neck. his nose barely brushes the spot where you apply it, before pulling away again. he’s so close but yet, the only thing physically connecting you two is his hand glued to your hip.

“you’re so beautiful.” his hands trailing up the garter belt, smoothing over the skin that puffs above the thigh straps. he slips his finger under the elastic that wraps around the plush of your thigh and snaps it. you yelp out in surprise and his eyes go back to yours. “so, so beautiful.”

his soft lips graze against the column of your throat leaving kisses in his wake as he lands on your pulse point. his tongue skillfully twirls over the spot before sucking his mark onto your skin. his fingers run back up your sides, the pad of this thumb swiping over your hardened nipple that was doing everything in its power to pierce through the fabric.

“ah – tetsu please.” you squirm under his hold, trying to break free so you could do what you had set out to do. “its your birthday. let me–”

“not so fast, kitten. you wrapped up such a beautiful present for me, don’t i get to open it and use it to my heart’s content?” he smirks, slowly unfastening your bra. he watches as the fabric falls to the ground before pinching your nipple, getting drunk on the squeals you let out. “besides, it’s my birthday. you didn’t really think you’d be in charge, did you?”

“n-no-“ you stammer as he’s relentlessly leaving hickies all over your neck. he knew you too well, he knew how to make you unravel with just a few well-calculated touches – never one to have an issue with reading you like a book.

“then be good and take what i give you. can you do that for me?” his smirk stretches across his face, building off of your ever-growing desperate need to please him.

you nod and luckily he’s feeling nice right now, not demanding a verbal answer. he’s almost more eager than you are. the moment he saw you wearing this new set he knew he needed to rip it off of you. having his way with you was truly the best present you could give him.

his fingers run down to hook themselves in your garter belt again, pausing briefly before moving down to cup your clothed cunt. the sudden touch sends shocks throughout your body, arching your back into his heavenly hold. his eyes never left your face, absolutely mesmerized as he watches every changing feature as he draws more pleasure from you.

he stands up straight, taking the smallest step back from you so there’s just a breath of air between your bodies. he starts to reach for his robe to untie it but, immediately stops as he has a better idea.

“take it off me.” he demands, grasping onto your hands and guiding them towards him.

you pull him back in for a deep kiss, hungrily moving your lips against his as your hands glide down the front of his fluffy red robe. you quickly undo the knot, pushing the fabric off his shoulders before moving your fingers down over his taut abdominal muscles that flex against your touch.

your wandering hands can’t stand still, and he feeds off of it. he pours hours of his week into working out and while he does it out of habit, he can’t help but enjoy your reaction when you grab onto his bicep, the muscle bulging at your touch.

“gonna do something? or just feel me up?” he quips, causing you to strike a glare at him.

“you asked me to take it off and i did.” you huff, crossing your arms in front of your chest and look away, annoyed that he was trying to be coy right now.

“hey.” he says, swiftly grabbing you by the chin so you’re facing him instead. “eyes on me, yeah? i’m the birthday boy and i still want my present.”

you nod, his hand slipping from its hold on you, and go to get down on your knees. he pulls you up before they touch the ground, shaking his head, a smirk hanging off his lips. before you open your mouth to question what he wants he just twirls his finger in the air.

“turn around for me, hands on the railing.” he watches as you stand still, eyes widening at his request. surely he didn’t plan on fucking you out here in the open, right? it was one of his fantasies, one that you hadn’t crossed off the list yet. a small smirk takes up your face as you look up at him, a challenge set under your fiery gaze. he always did insist on wanting to show you off, and what better time than his birthday? “disobeying already? maybe you should’ve gotten me a good girl for my birthday.”

“maybe next year.” you wink back at him as you saunter your way over to where he wants you. his eyes narrow down at you and guides you so you’re leaning against the railing of the balcony, your hands grasping them for support. the pads of his fingers slowly trail down your bare back before he smacks your ass, relishing in the surprised sound you let out.

“mind your manners. last warning.” he pauses, watching as you nod your head. he slips off your drenched panties, tossing them somewhere to the side. “this all for me?” he asks, slipping his fingers between your glistening folds and swiftly into your entrance. his fingers feel too good as they glide against your walls, almost close enough to hit your sweet spot, but he’s actively avoiding it. “bet i won’t even have to prep you that much, you're practically sucking my fingers in.”

“you don’t need to prep me tetsu- please.” you wiggle your hips against him, silently begging for more.

“please what?” kuroo roughly grabs onto the plush of your thighs, his thumb running over the skin that was spilling over the garter belt.

“just fuck me please, let me be your good girl for your birthday, wanna makes you feel good.”

“i dont know, you were pretty mouthy earlier. i’m not sure if i want to let you get away with something like that. maybe i should get your pretty robe belt and tie your hands back.” he tsks, sliding off his boxer briefs and putting them off to the side. his hand wraps around his aching cock, tapping it against your ass a few times for good measure before sliding the head against your wet folds.

“i’ll be good, promise.” you pout back at him, trying to give him your best doe-eyed stare.

“prove it to me then.” he pushes his tip against your folds, slowly sliding into you. he groans as he fully sinks into you, enjoying the way you tense against the stretch. even though you were dripping wet, his girth still pierces through you, lodging itself right against your cervix. “god, you’re just so perfect. so wet — so warm.”

“tets-“ the rest of his name gets stuck in your throat, choked back from his girth stretching you out.

“what? too much?” he pulls out slowly until the tip is pressed against your opening. the whine you let out tells him all he needs to know before he slams back into you. “too bad.”

he doesn’t hold back as he drives into you, thoroughly entranced with the way your tight cunt sucks him in. he smacks your ass, watching as the plush skin jiggles in its wake, rippling against the force of his thrusts. it doesn’t matter how many times he’s had his way with you, it always felt like the first time — like he had to hold back from cumming the moment he slides inside of you. you were just too damn intoxicating.

a loud moan from you broke him out of his trance, watching as your fingers meekly grip onto the railing, trying to match his pace. but he didn’t relent, and you could already feel your thighs deliciously burn.

“yeah? you like that baby? getting off on being fucked out in the open like this?” he holds onto the back of your neck, slowly wrapping his fingers around until he’s holding you from the front. “answer me.”

“that all you got?” you keen, smiling up at him. kuroo’s eyes darken, the hold on your jaw gets a little tighter. “maybe you really are getting old.”

“brat.” he snarls, snapping his hips harder, trying his best to get as deep as he could. “you’re gonna regret that.”

“fuck- you’re so deep tetsu.” you choke out as he starts to gently pinch against your airways, just enough for you to know he’s at his limit with you. he relents, opting to grab onto your shoulder instead for better leverage, the tip of his cock pressing against your sweetest spot.

“you’re such a fucking slut. letting me show the world how well i can fuck you.” he can’t help but thrust into you harder, quick snaps of his hips driving his cock into you at a brutal pace.

“how i’m the only one that gets to have you this way.” he continues on as his other hand caresses your back, watching the way the plushness of your ass collides against his hips. he couldn’t take it anymore.

“come here and give me a kiss.” he pulls you up by your shoulder so you can turn your head for a kiss. “want you to cum all over my cock baby, can you do that for me?”

“tets- feels so good. wanna cum f’you.” you moan into his mouth.

“yeah? then cum.” he pulls on your hair as he drives into you faster. from his command alone, you follow his orders. your nails dig into the railing as your back arches. all of your muscles in your body tighten up before they release, your mind going blank for a moment from the intensity of the orgasm. “that’s it, you’re so good for me.

kuroo quickly peels you off of the balcony, pushing you against the wall so he can dive into you better. the change in positions drags your orgasm out even longer, the release is evident as it pools around the base of his cock and starts dripping down your inner thighs. kuroo can’t help but reach down, taking some onto his fingers before sucking them down in his mouth, letting out a satisfied groan.

“tetsu.” you whine, clutching onto his back, your nails piercing into his skin as you hold onto him. your legs wrap around the small of his waist, pulling him even deeper despite already feeling so full.

“i know baby, i know. ‘m almost done. just a little more, can you do that f’me?” all you can do is nod as his cock furiously drags against your pulsing walls. each time, his tip kisses your cervix as he tries to bury himself as deeply as he can. he can’t hold back anymore as he feels his balls tighten up, ready to release for you.

he lets out a long groan, the sound kissing your ears as his hips stutter from his impending release. whispered moans of how much he loves you– how good you feel, fly out of his mouth as he pushes all the way inside of you, his cum painting your walls.

kuroo slowly lowers you down, littering kisses all over your exposed skin. murmurs of honey-praise words fill your ears as you both come down from your high. kuroos heart is beating so fast he’s sure you can hear it, but he knows yours is beating in time with his. always synced up with each other, your heart fighting to be together just as your bodies had been.

“you’re so beautiful.” he pulls you in for a kiss, before picking up his robe from the ground, wrapping you up in the warm fluff.

“mmm tetsu.” your brain is playing catch up as your body revels in the high that he brought you. “always do so good for me, always make me feel good.”

he can’t help but blush at your praise. his already flushed face turning a darker pink. he looks around the balcony for a second before picking up the long forgotten bottle of booze.

“now, how about that champagne?” he scoops you up into his arms, ready to bring you into the house for some rest before he gets started on his dessert.