#I think I might name her Raspberry

[shinxeysartgallery]

A friend and I were horsing around last night and decided to do like a little challenge where we'd use one of those Sonic OC Picrew things to come up with an OC design for shits and grins. We used this one in particular! (https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1249352)

Anyway, I originally wasn't going to keep my result because it was just for fun and non-serious, but I ended up coming up with this gal and I kinda like her. I've decided to give her a bit of a redesign and keep her. :)

Also had some ideas for another new non-related group (as if I don't already have enough OCs LMAO). I was gone earlier so couldn't draw anything, but I still really wanted to work on some of those designs, so this challenge gave me the idea to use one of the other Picrews to experiment with and establish a base design for 'em. And honestly? It's not perfect, but it worked WAY BETTER than I expected it to! I'll have to draw them regardless of if I use the Picrew thing or not, but I might consider doing that again in the future to play around with designs when I'm unable to draw them at the time.

Definitely can recommend using one if you're struggling with a design or want to experiment with one before fully committing to drawing it!

[pucksandpower]

Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. ���The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

girl i love your shut up mom and career day fic so much!!!!!! i was wondering if you can do something similar to bothh? no pressure if you dont wanna!

Baby's first words

Tags: fluff, crack, jjk men as dads x fem!reader, angst on Nanami's!!!

Synopsis: You and your husband have been trying to get your child to say their first words. Chaos ensues.

An: I hope this is close enough to what you were requesting!! I really couldn't think of much more. Also, I want to point out that I completely forgot that Todo's first name is Aoi. I want to clarify that it is completely unrelated to your baby's name with Satoru lol.

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

"Alright Aoi, say da-da, and I'll give you this yummy scoop of baby food." Your husband coaxes as he holds out a spoonful of baby food just out of your small baby's reach.

"Stop bribing our kid to say dada." You giggle as you walk up to your adorable baby sat in his high chair. You fluffed Satoru's hair affectionately with your hand. These were the moments that made life worth living.

"Hmph. I want dada to be his first word. Wouldn't that be so cool?" He asks with a small pout as he coaxes your baby's attention again with the spoon. "C'mon Aoi, da-da." He sounds out the word phonetically to try to teach Aoi.

However, your pretty blue-eyed baby looked up at you with the brightest smile. "Mama!" Aoi cried as he made grabby hands for you.

Yours and Satoru's mouths completely dropped. While you immediately started laughing and picking up Aoi out of the highchair to snuggle your baby, your husband just looked at you with a bittersweet pout. He wanted to be y'all's baby's first words, but it was worth it to see your reaction to Aoi saying mama.

"That's right, baby. Mama." You encourage, smooching him on his chubby little cheek.

"Alright, I get it kid. I'd say mama to get a kiss too." Satoru laughs as he holds out his cheek towards you with a playful grin.

Jokingly rolling your eyes, you press a kiss to Satoru's cheek too.

SUGURU

"Alright girls, can you say da-da?" You said to the two young twin girls in their highchairs. You pointed to Geto as he stood next to you.

"They're too young to be talking, darling." He muses as he looks at your twin girls.

"But they're not too young to learn. Don't act like you don't want to hear them say dada." You poke Geto in his side, causing for him to let out a hearty chuckle.

"I want to keep them as young for as long as possible. Watching them grow up is going to send me into an early retirement." He says as he lovingly rubs on your back.

A doorbell sounding throughout the house caused your husband to sigh deeply. He hated being pulled away from these moments with you and the girls.

"Were you expecting someone?" You curiously ask.

"No, it's probably just one of those filthy monkeys again." He gripes as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Dada!" Mimiko shouts with a giggle, garnering both your attentions.

"You really have to stop saying that in front of the girls." You chide as Geto picks up Mimiko from her highchair.

"My sweet girl." He grins at the baby in his hands and blows a raspberry on her cheek.

The doorbell rings again, and you sigh this time. "I guess I'll go get it." You say as you start to walk away.

"M-m... ma..ma.." Nanako quietly whimpered as your presence left the room.

"Oh, it's okay, little one. She'll be back." Geto soothes as he picks his other daughter up with his other arm. What's the purpose of having two arms if you couldn't snuggle both your twin daughters at the same time?

After scaring off a salesman, you return to the heartwarming sight.

"You missed it, darling. Nanako said mama." Geto informs you with a proud smile.

"I always miss the good parts!" You complain as you scoop Nanako up out of Geto's arms. "I hope they stay this little forever."

"Me too."

TOJI

"Okay Gumi, can you say ma-ma?" You say as you're staring with a bright smile at your flat expression baby. He honestly looks like he might be judging you for even insinuating that he'd say mama.

"Okay, tough crowd." You muse as you hand Megumi one of his toys for him to play with.

You have been trying to teach him how to say mama for the past month or so, but he hasn't really said much of anything. He'll babble sometimes, but it's rare.

You were concerned about his mental and social development, but his pediatrician assured you that there was nothing wrong with little Megumi.

"He just doesn't want to talk yet." The doctor informed you with a lighthearted laugh.

It was semi-funny, but you couldn't help and compare with other moms. You knew it was wrong and every baby developed at their own rate, but you really just wanted to hear your baby's sweet voice.

Toji walks in through the front door immediately kicking his shoes off. "No one touch me. I'm covered in blood." He grunts as he tries his best to maneuver and not spread the blood everywhere.

Given his job, you were already use to this. "It's not yours, right?" You ask as you look up at him.

"Course not, babe. What do you take me for? An amateur?" He asks with a cocky grin.

Megumi looks up from his highchair, and his eyes immediately go as big as saucers upon seeing his dad walk in through the door. "Papa!" He immediately cries out, making grabby hands towards Toji.

You stare at your son in disbelief. "You little traitor!" You whine, but you also feel the relief pool into you. Your baby really just didn't want to talk to you, but that's fine.

"Ahh you little shit. You would do this when I can't pick you up. Your mama will kill me if I get blood on you." He grins as he carefully pats Megumi's hair with a clean hand.

"Damn right. Go shower." You instruct with a small grin.

"Yes mam." He retorts playfully as he shot you a little wink.

SUKUNA

"Okay Ryu, say ma-ma." You say to your little pink-haired baby as he's looking at you from his high chair.

"That's so amateur. He's the son of the king." Sukuna says as he pulls up a chair and sits backwards in it, facing y'all's baby. "Say dismantle." He grins wildly, and your sweet baby just giggles at him.

"You dare laugh in the face of a king, hm?" Sukuna asks as he playfully narrows his eyes. Despite how scary he was trying to seem, Ryu just kept smiling at him and giggling.

"Stop trying to get our baby to say cursed techniques." You chide your husband while shaking your head.

"Fine. Say Satoru Gojo's a bitch."

"Ryomen!"

"What!?" Sukuna shouts defensively. "I'll never forgive that white-haired bastard for teaching his kid to say 'kuna sucks'." You quietly laugh remembering that random video that was sent to you two.

In their older age, Sukuna and Satoru had settled on having a baby race. Constantly filming their baby's milestones and gloating to the other.

Sukuna had practically cheered whenever little Ryu was eating more solid foods than Gojo's kid was.

"D...d.." Ryu babbles and tries to get his syllables right.

"Woman. Get your phone machine out. He's going to cast his first domain." Sukuna says as he's immediately grabbing onto your arm.

"Sukuna, for the last time. It's just called a phone, and he's not going to cast a domain." You say as you start recording your little baby Ryu.

"Da..da... dada." Your son babbles out reaching up towards his dad.

Sukuna's face slightly drops, but it wasn't to one of sadness. No, he felt surprised. His son was reaching to him, calling for him. To most people, he was the King of Curses, but to little Ryu, he was simply dada.

Your husband scoops your son into his arms, hugging him lovingly. "I'll let you slide just this once. Next time you'll cast a domain." He says playfully while cradling his son in his arms.

Later, you would get a text from Gojo after sending him that video.

Gojo: Cute kid. Sukuna looks happy. Fucker is finally softening in his prehistoric age.

NANAMI

"Say da-da..." Your voice plays over Nanami's phone as he watches the video you just sent him of you teaching Hana how to say her first words.

"Dada!" Hana yells with a cheerful smile while clapping her little hands together.

Your husband smiles, missing you two dearly right now. It feels like his heart lives outside his chest. If he could afford it, he'd go home and snuggle with you two.

Yn: Stay safe out there, Ken. Please.

He promptly texts back, promising that he'll be back home before you know it. Though, something about the air in Shibuya tonight gave Nanami second guesses about that.

He could leave. He could leave right now and return home to you and his daughter, but his students and his peers need him.

Yn: The power's out here, Ken. Is everything alright?

Yn: Jesus I can hear the explosions from here...

Yn: Please tell me that you're safe...

Yn: Hana and I are evacuating. I love you. Please text me as soon as you can.

Yn: You fuckig promised... you liedd to me.

Yn: What do I tell Hana every time she says dada?

[tasteleeknow]

RASPBERRY PIE

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. 4k words content warnings. pet names (sweetheart, angel). mutual pining. sweet/shy reader. perv!minho. corruption kink. food play. dirty talk. oral (m rec.). soft!dom minho.

you bake your quiet neighbour a warm raspberry pie.

He's pretty sure he's utterly fucked from the jump – he finds himself attached so early he almost convinces himself you're a witch in disguise; that maybe he'd moved in next door to a creature designed to trap men like him. A siren, maybe. The sweetness was an act; all the soft tones and doe eyed looks were just a trick to lure him down beneath the waves.

He was determined not to drown.

And then you show up with the pie, a little flushed from working around a hot oven. It'd been 6 months – 6 months since he'd moved in, and as he opens the door to find you in an apron with little pink stains, a feeling of approaching and inevitable doom settles in his chest. Finally, you'd come to take him.

"Hi," you greet with a shy smile. "My friend brought me over far too many berries yesterday so..." you look down at the golden pie, carefully decorated and clearly still warm, "...well I made this. For you."

If he was wise, he'd politely decline, close the door, and never be faced with the reality of the sweet little siren in his apartment, offerings of temptation and all.

"For me?"

You look up at him through long lashes. "Do you like pie?" you ask. It's the way you say it, like if he doesn't you might genuinely hurt inside – like with a simple rejection of your offering, he had the ability to snuff out some little candle alight inside you.

"I like pie," he says.

Then you smile. Like it's the best news you've heard in weeks. "Oh, good."

He steps aside, his body betraying him. The siren enters with her warm pie and soft smiles – and he knows, unequivocally, that he's fucked.

He keeps his distance as you comfortably navigate to the kitchen to find a place for your offering. The apartments were all pretty much identical as far as he knew. The two on this floor, his and yours, were mirrored. He imagines that just on the other side of your joining wall, you took the same steps he did he each morning, in parallel.

You fiddle a little with the delicately placed raspberries atop the pie as he approaches from the other side of the island. You wear a tiny silver ring on one finger, much like one he wears on his own. He'd spotted it before, during short interactions in the elevator. He suppresses the urge to comment on it now, to ask if it meant anything to you.

He doesn't need to know you. He couldn't afford to. He was finding himself attached enough without it.

Then you pluck one little berry up in your fingers and bring it to your lips. He watches you. He watches you and he knows that he's walked willingly into a trap.

"Sweet?"

You look up. "Hm? Oh." You nod. "They're lovely. My friend gets them from this farm near his parent's place."

Friend. His. He sits in the feeling that stirs in his chest for a quiet moment. It's a rotten feeling. He doesn't like it at all.

"He brings them often?" he finds himself asking.

"Not at all. He just happened to come by after being there for a weekend. He doesn't go there often, I don't think." Your accompanying smile is almost enough to snuff out the rotten feeling before he has time to digest it. Almost.

Then he considers that this might not be the only pie. You may have made this other guy a pie just like it... maybe it was bigger, maybe you'd used the sweetest berries in his pie.

He kicks a cat toy across the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed by his own internal monologue. Witchcraft, turning his brain into mush.

"You have a pretty view."

He looks up to find you brushing your hands down your apron and rounding the kitchen island. You seem drawn to his floor to ceiling windows, a little moth to the light.

He follows.

"Mine isn't nearly this nice," you continue once he's standing beside you. "All I get is the construction site and a concrete wall." Then you close your eyes, head tilting back a little to let the sun's afternoon rays bathe your face. "Don't get the sun like this, either," you add, a little dreaminess leaking into your already sweet voice.

Oh, he's fucked.

"You like it?"

You blink up at him, eyes adjusting to the light again. "Hm?"

"I mean if you really like it, you're welcome over anytime, whenever." He wonders if this is part of your spell work, making him say stupid shit. Maybe he'd be better off if you were casting spells on him, if he had a reasonable excuse for being so fucking braindead. "For the sun," he adds, like it makes it better.

A small breath of laughter slips from your pretty lips. "It does get a little gloomy over there, on my side of the wall."

It was hard to imagine anywhere you were being gloomy.

"I should go," you continue after a short moment of comfortable silence, each of you basking in the sunlight. He really should appreciate that more, he notes. Then he considers the fact he'll associate this little patch of warmth with you each time he attempts such a thing.

"Sure," he says, following you from a safe distance to the door. "Thank you. For the pie."

"You're welcome."

Everything is fine. He's alone and he survived the encounter. Then he's faced with the pie. He stares down at it, warm and made with careful hands.

He plucks a berry off the top. He thinks of the berry you'd eaten in the same way.

Everything is fine.

He hesitates as he goes to pluck a second berry. Instead of lifting one from the crust, he presses the tip of his finger a little against the surface. Warm. He breaks through. His finger is coated in syrupy, red filling when he pulls it free. It's sugary sweet when he sucks it clean.

Shame. That's what he feels next. Because sweet gestures of neighbourly kindness should not trigger the kind of thoughts creeping their way into his head.

He wonders if the little siren's cunt is as warm and sweet as the little offering she brought him. He considers doing the right thing, having a cold shower and sitting in the morning sun with a slice of pie.

But apparently, today, and the day before, and every day for the past 6 months, Minho was not wise and he wasn't very good. Because he let the thoughts of his sweet little neighbour stew for months, and this is where it'd led him.

He stands there, one palm pressed flat on the kitchen counter, the other buried in his sweatpants, and he thinks of the sweet little siren with her sweet offerings, and he imagines sinking his hard cock into her warm, sweet cunt.

—

It's hard not to deflate entirely as you close your apartment door behind you. You'd expected too much from a single pie, you suppose. It would entirely out of character for him to ask you to stay for a slice, to take the opportunity to finally have a conversation longer than an elevator ride.

You sigh, dropping your forehead against the cool surface of the door. It helps a little. You're overheated, both from the cooking, the warm sun, and the heat that had bubbled up from the inside as the pretty - yet frustratingly reserved - man next door had watched you move about his space.

You hadn't lied, his apartment was far nicer than yours. You could imagine basking in that patch of sun any chance you had. You wonder if he does the same, if he sits there after a shower, chest bare and hair still a little damp - letting the sun warm his skin.

You leap back as a knock on the door jolts you out of your daydream. Sighing, you press your palm to your forehead - head thoroughly rattled - as you pull the door open.

Oh.

"Hi," Minho says casually. He's a little flushed compared to when you'd left him minutes earlier. He shouldn't be. There were no stairs between your apartments.

"Hello, again."

He glances over your shoulder, getting a clear view of your empty living room. "It is darker in here," he says, still casual.

"Oh. Mm, yeah. I miss your sun already."

His eyes fix back on you. Then he pulls his lip between his teeth slightly. He has something to say... something he won't say.

"Why'd you make me the pie?" he asks.

You blink. "I... had a lot of berries from-"

"Your friend. I know."

You're officially confused. His eyes drop down your dirty apron before returning to your face. "You only made one?"

"Is it bad?" you question.

He pushes some hair away from his eyes. "No," he says quickly. "No, it's... nice." His eyes sweep down your body again. "Sweet," he adds.

"I only made one."

His eyes jump to yours before a brief look of confusion flashes across his pretty face. He seems to remember his own question soon enough. "You didn't want to give it to," he gestures vaguely behind you, "your friend?"

"No," you answer simply. This entire interaction was drifting into territory you weren't sure you were ready for. If his questions got any more interrogative, you might find yourself wondering how to answer them in any other way than 'Oh, the pie? I baked it for you because I have a huge, embarrassing crush on you, even if you've seemed intent on not knowing me.'

"He doesn't like pies?" he asks.

You can't help following the path of his fingers as he fiddles with the chain hanging around his neck. They brush his skin as he strokes the metal back and forth.

"I... don't understand what you're asking me," you say as you pull your eyes from his neck. "Is something wrong?"

He readjusts his position in the doorway, pressing his hand to the frame and freeing you from the constant distraction at his neck. He leans over you a little like this.

God, he's pretty.

"You a witch?" he asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you put something in it?" he continues, still leaning well and truly into your space. "Something to make me-" he cuts himself off, brows furrowing.

"Are you asking me if I poisoned the pie?"

His voice drops, like someone might overhear, despite you both being entirely alone on this floor of the building. "I'm trying to figure out why all I can fucking think about is how you might taste on my tongue."

Your head rushes, all the heat returning. Then your eyes drop to the floor.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

You don't. His shoes are safer. He was flirting. More than flirting. He wanted you.

His fingers guide your chin up, it doesn't take much, a nudge. "I'll leave if you want," he says. "Never mention it again. Just tell me what you want."

"Did you like it?" you find yourself whispering. "The pie."

His lips crack into a lopsided smile. It's tiny, but it's a smile. "Loved it, sweetheart. Sent me to heaven."

"Would you... would you like to come in?"

He nods.

You go to turn, to let him follow you. But then, instead, you take his hand and lead him in. He's warm. You imagine all the sun he gets over there must've absorbed deep inside him over time. Maybe he could leave some of it behind here for you - that heat might leak from him if your kept him here long enough.

He follows where you lead, his hand still grasped firmly in your own. You're not sure why you lead him to the sofa. You aren't sure what you're expecting next. It's why you find yourself simply standing beside the piece of furniture waiting for him to say something – to let go of your hand maybe.

Instead, his thumb begins brushing over your skin. He's quiet, seemingly unhurried to break the tension building.

"I asked my friend to bring the berries," you confess quietly, eyes focused on your interwined hands. Confessions were always so much easier with your eyes downwards. "I wanted to make something for you... specifically."

"Why's that?"

His thumb continues against your skin. He doesn't make you look at him like he had before.

"Because I... wanted you to - I wanted your attention."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, "So you baked me a pie?"

"I'm good at baking."

"You are," he agrees. Then his other hand reaches for the hem of your apron. He rubs it between his fingers a little. "Messy though."

You look down at the patterned splotches, pink on white. Then he releases your hand, taking that warmth with him. He only allows you a few seconds to miss it though. That same hand snakes around the back of your neck, skin on skin.

Your eyes are drawn to his without thought.

"Are you always messy?" he asks.

You nod, chewing on your lip a little.

He seems pleased with your answer, a small hum escaping his throat. "I like messy," he says, sounding a little far away. "Do you like messy, sweetheart?"

Your eyes drop to his lips, a little stained from your pie filling. "Yeah," you breathe.

He tugs you towards him before your have time to suck in another breath, attaching himself to you like he's starved. You can't help gasping a little into his mouth as he presses you into him with a hand to your back.

Holy fuck. Surely you'd wake up slumped against the door any second. Maybe someone hadn't just knocked on the door. Someone had opened it and knocked you out and you were dreaming about your pretty, brown eyed neighbour.

He groans a little before taking your lip between his teeth. No. No you were definitely awake. "So sweet," he mumbles as he releases you, his breath ghosting over your wet lips. "Can I have you?"

–

It's hard to keep his head on straight as you look up at him with those big sweet eyes. Can I have you? His stomach rolls as he waits for you to say yes. Please say yes. 6 months of denial and he was desperate.

You'd made that sweet little gift for him. Just for him. His little siren.

Then you're pressing against his chest, forcing him down onto the sofa. He looks up at you, at the stained apron and the hair sticking a little to your temples from the time spent making his pie.

Then you lower yourself to your knees.

Oh, fuck.

Your hands only have to brush his legs for him to get the hint. He spreads them, allowing you to shuffle closer to him – settling between his thighs.

Then you look up at him. "Can I taste you?"

He's keeping you. His head drops back as he collects himself. Then, "You want my cock in your pretty little mouth?"

You nod, fingers pressing lightly into his thighs.

Minutes ago he was fucking himself into his own hand imagining how warm you'd feel around him. Now you're between his legs, lips wet, asking to taste him.

He's careful to keep his eyes on you as he frees himself, intent on catching each and every reaction you make – he's keeping it all.

You're a little hesitant as you reach for him. "You're good, sweetheart," he encourages. "Touch me however you like."

It seems to be all you need. In the next second your soft little hand is wrapping around his length. His head drops back again as his eyes close.

It's a mistake, closing his eyes. He's not prepared when your wet lips press to the tip of him, soft and warm. He groans, hand automatically making a home in your hair. He needs grounding. He needs –

Your lips wrap around him. His little siren was sucking his dick into her sweet little mouth. His hips jump a little. "Oh fuck, that's right. You're all warm for me."

You hum a little around him. Then, you take him deeper. Hot little tongue dancing over his sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he groans. "Take it for me, sweetheart." He resists the urge to spill himself right here, right against your tongue. "Hm? You taking it for me?"

His hips jump again as he fucks himself into your hot mouth, wet and sweet and just for him. You'd wanted his attention. You'd come for him. Just him.

"You mine?" he gasps as he forces his head up to look at you. "You gonna let me fuck you?"

Your lips pull off him slowly, a little suction at his tip sending his head spinning. "Do you want to?" you ask, lips swollen.

He leans forward enough to begin lifting you, encouraging you to climb into his lap. Each hand rests at your hips as you settle yourself there, his leaking cock pressed between you.

"So bad," he answers.

You shift a little in his lap. He imagines you squirming on his cock.

"Me too," you confess. It's quiet, like it's bad.

Sweet siren.

"Sit on me," he instructs. "Want you to bounce on me, sweetheart."

You eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, processing, deciding. Then you shift, reaching up under your dress and tugging your underwear down.

Something in his stomach stirs when he realises you were leaving the rest on, apron and all.

You grasp him in a soft hand, guiding him beneath your clothes – then you sink down. He's transfixed by the little sound that escapes your lips as you take him in. That, and the way your cunt feels squeezing around him. He might have to keep you for fucking ever.

Hot and sweet and wet and better than he'd imagined as he'd fucked himself against his counter minutes earlier. Better than any of the scenarios he'd dreamed up over the months he'd spent thinking of his sweet little neighbour.

You fall into him with a sigh once you're full seated, cock buried deep.

"Doing so well," he says, hand squeezing a little at the back of your neck.

You mumble something into his neck in response. He can't quite make it out, but he swears, it almost sounds like a tiny 'thank you'. He has to keep himself from filling you at the thought of it.

His hands return to your hips. You must take it as a prompt because you lean back from him enough to begin lifting yourself off him and dropping again.

It's slow at first, a little swivel in your hips, grinding yourself down into him.

The apron prevents him from seeing how his cock looks slipping in and out of your little cunt. He hasn't even seen it, that sweet little hole between your legs.

Instead, he feels.

–

It makes sense that a man as pretty as him would have the prettiest cock. One you wanted to taste. One that would have you slippery and ready to take him.

There's this vein that throbs in his neck each time he drops his head back with a groan. His neck. God you want to lean forward and bite into it. But he might not be into that. Next time, you think. Or the time after that.

God you hope there's a next time.

His fingers dig into your hip as you sink all the way down again. It feels a little like he's resisting, holding back.

"Minho?"

His head lifts, eyes a little glassy as he blinks at you. "Hm?"

"You can fuck me," you tell him. "However you want. I want you to fuck me."

He blinks again. His fingers dig into your skin harder.

"Tell me when you wanna stop. Just tell me," he says.

You nod. Then he's leaning forward and tugging you against him. His lips press to your skin just at the crook of your neck.

Then you're falling. He falls over you. Then he lets go. He presses you into the couch cushions as he drives into you, hair falling over his face. He's even pretty like this, with parted lips and brows slightly furrowed.

Your skin slaps together as he fucks himself into you. Messy, he'd said. He liked messy.

That's what he gets as he continutes to drive into you, as you begin to drip around him, as he fucks that wetness into you and over your thighs and then the sounds it all makes.... messy.

"Wanna fill you," he mutters. "God, I wanna fill you so bad. Wanna fuck my cum into your sweet cunt."

You squeeze your eyes shut as he continues, overwhelmed.

"You can take it for me, angel. I know you can. Sweet little thing made just for me. I knew it." He's muttering so much you're hardly sure he even knows what he's saying. His fingers are almost painful as they dig into your skin, like he can't hold onto you hard enough.

"Fill me," you gasp.

He eyes lift from where you join together to lock on your face. "Yeah?" he asks, a slight croakiness breaking his words up a little. "I'll make you all warm and sticky inside, hm? Just like your pretty little pie? That sound nice?"

Oh god. There was something inside you, something made for this – for him. You knew this was going to ruin you forever.

"Please."

He falls over you, then he bites. He bites into you as he floods you full.

[luveline]

You are so talented I can’t even fathom it Jade! I seriously don’t know how you do it.

Idk if you’re taking requests rn for Spencer still bc I know you write him a lot but I love shy reader and post prison Spencer it’s so cute. I would love to see their relationship growing, maybe her realizing the feelings aren’t one sided by little things he says or does for her or how he reacts if she gets hurt.

No worries if not! Anything you write is a gift honestly. Happy New Year!

thank you sm angel, you're too kind<3 hny! ♡ fem!reader, 1.2k

cw violence and injury

You'll be fine, Spencer had said, patting you on the shoulder. Just trust me. 

This is decidedly not fine. 

You crouch low behind a raspberry chaise turned blood red in the poor lighting. When you entered the building moments ago, it was light. But now the lights are out and you can't tell your friend from foe; footsteps to your left could be Spencer where he'd followed you in, or they could be the UnSub. 

I'm right behind you, he'd said with a borderline rogue smile. You think I'd let you get hurt? 

Breath warms your ear. “Boo.” 

The air gets stuck in your lungs as brutish arms grab you. Your gun points toward your own jaw and your pulse hammers so hard you freeze, a split second, the amygdala overwhelmed. Then the UnSub tries to grab your weapon, and everything you've been taught kicks in. You twist in his arms, throwing your head back out of the line of fire as multiple agents call to you to sound off, and kicking hard at the UnSub's legs, the subsequent soft spot between them. 

You fall hard onto the floor, screaming as a weight lands on top of you.

Spencer shouts your name. “Where are you?!”

A hard palm hits you in the throat. Light bounces off of the UnSub's face as a teammate aims their torch in your direction, but you're wheezing and aching, your throat on fire and too overwhelmed to think. The hand that hurt you leaps for your gun. You hold onto it for dear life, even as he forces it once, twice into the soft of your face, leaving rings of flame behind your eye. You pull it hard from his hands and fling it across the floor out of reach, squirming under his weight, needing to be away, away— 

You pull your knee up and kick wildly, a well timed blow hitting the UnSub in the face with a damp-sounding crunch. 

“I don't have eyes on her!” Emily shouts. 

“I do,” Spencer says. His torchlight floods your area as he shouts, “Stand down!” 

You don't squeal, but it's not a very professional sound as you crawl backwards out of the way. The ring of fire behind your eyes feels ever so slightly above it now. The room is half gone. You wipe your eye and look down at your hand, dark staining your palm in a heavy smear.

“Oh,” you mumble queasily. 

The power never comes back on, but you don't notice until after, when Spencer's dragged you outside to the front yard and lowered you to a soft patch of grass, an EMT beside him dressing your wound. “Did they get him?” you ask. 

Spencer's brow wrinkles with his frown. 

“Remember what we said?” The EMT asks. 

“No?” You wince and hiss as he pulls the wings of a butterfly stitch closed over your eyebrow. 

“You have a concussion. I'm trying to work out how bad it is.” 

You honestly still feel like you're in the dark room. You reach out for Spencer's hand instinctively, needing comfort, a tether to the ground, and he clasps your fingers tightly. “You're okay,” he says steadily. 

“You're smiling at me weird.” You glance over your shoulder at the cop cars and the flashing red-blue lights. “Did you get him?” 

“Emily got him. Just after he got you.” Spencer looks like he might stand from his crouch, but he brings your hand to his chin instead, leaning on it showfully. “It's my fault, I'm sorry. I told you I'd have your back and I didn't.” 

Your chest stirs with the memory of your panic. One moment you'd been underneath him, and aching, and now you're on the grass as the forensics bring in the floodlights, so bright it's like mini suns have come out on either side of the yard. You hang your head to hide from the light. The EMT tells you off. 

“Does your throat still hurt?” Spencer asks you, pulling on your hand gently. “Answer me.” 

“My head is swimming.” 

Your memories fuzz over. When you look up again the EMT is gone. Spencer sits on the grass now beside you unhurried, your hand still clamped between both of his. His thumb rubs at your knuckles and the smooth stretch of skin beside them, apparently content to wait with you. 

“She's okay?” Tara asks, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. 

“Not enough medical. They're gonna look at Agent Walker and circle back. She might have to be admitted.” 

Tara bends at the waist to look you in the eye. “You okay?” 

“I'm fine. Are you okay?” you ask. 

“I'm doing better than you. That's gonna be a terrific bruise.” She smiles at Spencer reassuringly. “Emily wants you. I can sit with her, she'll be in good hands.” 

“She'd be in great hands,” Spencer says simply, “but I don't care. I'm staying here. Please tell Emily she can come here if she needs to talk to me. I'm not going anywhere until they've finished looking at Y/N.” 

Tara grins. “Your funeral.” 

You're slowly starting to feel like yourself again, or more aware of yourself at the very least. Spencer's touch is melding from comforting to heart-rending, his nearness a heat. He looks stupidly good-looking considering what you've just been through, the FBI vest tight on his chest, his sweet brown curls falling into his eyes as he plays with your fingers. 

“I must look awful,” you realise suddenly, a stone's throw from tearful. 

Spencer doesn't glance up at first. “You look beautiful, but the bruise is…” He looks at you through dark lashes. “It's a tragedy.” 

“What?” 

His small smile fades. “How are you feeling? Are things clear, or would you say that I'm out of focus? You're having moderate to severe concussive symptoms.” He shakes his head. “And the bruise is mottling already.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

Spencer laughs softly. After a pensive moment, he brings your hand to his mouth. Maybe he kisses it, maybe he doesn't, but the touch brings a sacredness to his promise, “I won't let that happen again. You trusted me to keep you safe.” 

“I trusted you to tell me if I was ready, and I was. I remembered how to get out of it. I'm still here.” You fluster after you've spoken, feeling brash. 

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face. “You are. You did amazing.” He removes one hand from yours. A featherlight touch coasts down your cheek, brief and encouraging nonetheless. “It's going to be a really bad bruise.” 

“Oh, well,” you say tiredly. 

Spencer's turn to go quiet. He holds your hand on his thigh. “I could kiss it better?” he offers in a murmur. 

You laugh and steal your hand back, unable to take all his attention at once. “Funny, Spencer.” 

He gives you a warm smile. You can't tell if he's kidding or not about the kiss, but his devotion to you while you're hurting is real. You're not sure where that leaves you.

[kissitbttr]

cake testing with miguel for the wedding!

a/n: featuring a very possessive miguel

continuation from this!

—

it has been one of your favorite wedding plans that you always look forward to. When your best friend got married, she took you with her to help her choose which one was the best. The caterer brought six classic flavors and both of your eyes twinkled with excitement. The same goes for your best friend. You and her almost demolished that one special raspberry lemon cake with her, since both of you have a sweet spot for fresh fruits.

You could guess which one ended up at the wedding reception.

And now, getting to do it with your soon to be husband, Miguel, just seems like a dream come true.

"So, Darla isn't gonna be with us since she's got errands to run, her assistant is going to replace her today." You inform your fiancee as he drives.

He squeezes your thigh with his hand as an answer, focusing his eyes on the road. You look up from your phone to watch him drive. A smile graces upon your lips as you think how good he looks while doing it. Furrowed eyebrows in concentration, a small pout on his lips with one hand on the wheel.

Fuck, he looks absolutely delicious.

Miguel senses your gaze on him, causing him to glance at you for a second before a grin spreads across his handsome face.

"What?"

You shrug. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Look sexy while driving"

He snorts out a laugh before making a turn. "I don't"

it's your turn to snort as you shake your head. "Humbleness is good. But God you're a liar."

"Ah, si? But you do love me, no?"

"Unfortunately" You answer, causing him to pinch the inside of your thigh making you giggle. "If we're not on our way to the boutique, I would hop on that dick right now"

He groans at that, eyes shutting briefly as the thoughts of you riding him in the car fill his mind. And seeing the seductive smirk on your face and how divine you look in that white sundress, it's already hard enough.

''Just say the word and I'll pull over mami." He's dead serious. You could see his hand gripping tightly around the wheel.

"And be late? No can do. Plus, I dressed really nicely for today and I do not want to ruin that."

"We can be quick" He tries again, smirking at you. "20 minutes top."

"Knowing you, it could never be 20 minutes. An hour and a half maybe." You point out, re-applying the gloss on your lips before smacking it. "And that's why I'm always late to work"

"You're killing me here, Y/N." He sighs loudly, pulling over to where the boutique is. "I never hear you complain about you being late when my cock is buried deep in your pussy, anyway."

You feign an offensive look as you slowly turn your head at him, shooting a soft glare. "Excuse me? What happened to getting rid of the first-name basis?!"

Yes. You made it clear from the start of the relationship that you refuse to be called by your first name anymore. It simply just won't cut it. You made sure to give him hell every time he called you that, even if he had done it by accident. Miguel was silently pulling his hair because you can be quite mean about that. Though he won't admit how you driving him insane is sexy. Like, really, fucking sexy.

it's a turn-on for him at this point.

"Shit, my bad" He parks the car as you both get ready to walk out. "Sorry baby." He leans over to peck your lips with his hand still on your thigh. The action makes you smile.

“That’s better”

Miguel gets out first, not allowing you both to walk out at the same time because he wants to be the one who opens the car door for you. Despite you telling him that you're perfectly capable of doing that by yourself, he argues with the fact that gentlemen always open doors for their women. Your heart does a somersault every time. It never goes away.

"Got everything, mi amor?" He asks as he extends his hand which you take, before shutting the door. You nod at him, and the two of you walk into the boutique hand in hand. "Dios... You look so good right now, I might just have to fuck you out here"

You gasp at that, slapping him in the chest, earning a low chuckle from him. "Easy there, tiger. I'm not going anywhere" You scold him but secretly love it when his filter's off

“How can i take it easy when your… Girls look so inviting?” His eyes glances at your breasts being pushed up by the cups of your dress, gulping at the sight. “They want me to play with them” A pout on his lips making your heart melt.

“Ugh, Miggy! please do not call them girls” You whine, shaking your head. “I thought we agreed on ‘tits’? Just tits.”

“Alright, alright fine… You’re no fun sometimes” He jokes, kissing your cheek. “Now, is this it?”

You nod, pushing your sunglasses up to the top of your head. “Darla said we can just walk right in.”

Miguel opens the door before allowing you to walk in first as he follows from behind. Red orbs scanning over the interior of the shop. It’s pretty. Lots of flowers in each corner, the paint is mostly pink and white.

“So is this where you and Darla had done the cake testing?” He asks, hand snaking around your waist.

“Yes! It’s so beautiful isn’t it? It’s like something coming out of fairytale or that ‘Enchanted’ movie we watched the other day. Darla really did amazing with this one. Though i did advice her to fix up the ceilings a bit and enhance the structure on that specific corner there.” You point with your manicured finger. “I offered to redesign and oversee the construction more. Just to help her a bit.”

He hums, squeezing your waist before planting a kiss on top of your head. “Look at you go… My little architect” He mumbles softly.

There’s no doubt on his mind that he’s proud of you. He loves seeing you work and help your friends who are in need. And that smart little brain of your is one of the things that made him fall in love with you in the first time. Jess had introduced you to him one time when he was scouting for a new architect to remodel the Spider Society’s HQ.

He was definitely entranced by your beauty when he saw you walked into his office with Jess by your side. You looked so sophisticated and elegant with glasses and the dress you had on that time. Long hair fixed into a messy bun as you shot him a smile before saying your name.

From that moment on, he was hooked. And made it his mission to make you his.

“Ms. Y/L/N and Mr. O’Hara?” Both of your ears perk at the sound of someone calling your names. You see a man, who’s probably in his late 20s emerging from the back with a smile. No doubt about it that he is quite handsome.

“Hi there! How are you? My name is Cameron, i’m Darla’s assistant. And my my, Darla didn’t say anything about her client being beautiful.” He chuckles as he lets out the joke. “She said you are stopping by for the cakes?” He flashes his toothy smile at you, and only at you.

Miguel frowns, at that. That doesn’t seem professional now, does it?

You choose to ignore that comment before smiling. “Yes, we are actually! I mean, I’ve done it with Darla about two weeks ago but my fiancé haven’t. So I’m bringing him, so he can taste it for himself.” Your hand squeezing your lover’s arm that is still settled around your waist.

The man nods, smiling as his eyes aren’t leaving yours which makes Miguel even more uneasy. And the way he looks at you from head to toe makes his blood boil.

He knows how men think, and he thinks. No, he knows that this asshole is basically undressing you with his eyes.

But Miguel is not the type create a confrontation. At least not anymore now that he’s with you. So he might’ve to push those feelings aside because he knows how much this means to you.

“Well step right here, I’ve prepared it all just for you, Ms. Y/L/N” He winks, gesturing you to follow him to where the cakes have been displayed.

Is he fucking serious?! Miguel thinks.

“So 6 different flavors, yes? Chocolate Lava, Lemon Raspberry, Strawberry Champagne, Red Velvet, Hazelnut Praline, aaand Hawaiian. That one is vegan” He checks off the last one on the list. “Customer’s favorite always been the Praline or Lemon Raspberry. You look like you deserve the latter. The best reserved only for the prettiest”

Again, you ignore his comment. “Oh well i tasted the Strawberry Champagne and it was amazing. But I’m leaving it to my fiancé here, so he can choose” You look up to him and notice there’s a slight frown on his face. “Baby?”

Miguel regains his composure when you call him, snapping him out of the thoughts of him killing Cameron in his mind. “Oh. Yeah yeah. Sure. You know my taste buds don’t matter just as long my woman is happy”

He makes sure to emphasize the words ‘my woman’ just so the guy can get the picture but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it.

“Well, we’re in this together so your taste does matter, as well.” You’re completely oblivious with the soft glare that Miguel throws at Cameron’s direction. Hands softly picking the forks from the table to cut a piece,

“Here. Let’s try the Chocolate—“

“Why don’t you feed it to me, mi amor?” He asks, looking at you with a smile. “One fork for two.”

If he can’t be violent then he’s got to find a way to make sure that this Cameron fellow understands that you’re fucking off limits.

You raise an eyebrow at the suggestion. “Sure, papi” You mirror his expression before cutting the cake, lifting it to feed him,

He takes a bite. Eyes dead set on the man who stands awkwardly from across, gaze looking anywhere but him.

“Hm” He nods. “That one’s good. Dark chocolate is it?”

“Right?” You ask cheerily. “Darla is amazing, i swear i need them all 6.” As you turn to fees yourself with the chocolate cake.

He shrugs, wiping a bit of the frosting from the corner of his mouth. “You’re the bride baby, you can have all 6 for the wedding, i don’t mind. I got the money for it anyway.”

You smile at him, kissing his jaw. “I love you, but we can’t be too greedy now can we?” A giggle escape your lips.

Oh he knows. He just wanted to make sure that son of a bitch gets it through his thick fucking skull that you’re his.

The two of you continue to feed each other’s cakes— more like you feeding it to him to be honest— rating each and every single one. Making sure to put a mental note on whichever you prefer before coming back next week and pick one.

Miguel glances at Cameron every now and then and watches how he stays quiet for the rest of it, letting you and Miguel do your thing. Probably too scared after seeing the intimidating look on his face.

“Gotta say, Strawberry Champagne and Chocolate one are amazing.” Miguel points, rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. “You sure have a great taste, cariño. Confío en ti con todo.”

“Gracias, mi corazón” you put down the fork back on the table, smiling up at Cameron. “That’d be all i guess, yeah? But i think we’ll be back next week to pick one for sure. Will Darla be here?”

“She hasn’t said anything about it but uh, i-i’ll make sure” He stutters a bit, smiling nervously and trying to avoid Miguel’s death stare.

“Okay then. Well, thank you, Cameron for assisting us today. We have to get going now, still have a lot to work on” You offer a polite smile to his direction. “Shall we get going?”

Miguel nods, eyes still fixated on Cameron. “Yeah sure. But uh.. Can you wait for me by the car? I just need a few words regarding with the cakes with Cameron”

He’s not letting this off easy.

You watch how his eyes trained to the young employee, scrunching your brows as Miguel turns to look at you with a soft gaze. “It’ll be just a minute, baby.” He presses a reassuring kiss on your temple,

“Okay” You nod, smiling softly. waving a hand at Cameron before walking towards the exit. Soon as you’re out of their sight, Miguel turns his gaze back on Cameron. The young man looks like he’s about to piss in his pants.

The two stands in silence for a while as Miguel looks at him up and down.

“You ever gotten your ass kicked, Cameron?”

The question throws him off guard. Eyes widening while his mouth hangs open.

“S-sir?”

“It’s a question. Yes or no.”

“Well uhm, n-no sir” Cameron shakes his head. “Wha-“

“You do know that me and my girl came as a couple, yes? Or are you fucking blind?” Miguel’s eyebrow raises at him, arms crossed over his chest.

“I see that, Mr. O’Hara. I-i didn’t— I’m sorr-“

“You flirt with every customers? With their soon to be bride? Or is it just my woman you’re after?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“N-no, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No as in what?”

“J-just her, i-i mean your woman.” He nervously confesses,

Miguel lets out a dry chuckle. “Let’s get one fucking thing straight, kid.” He leans forward, balling his fists before resting them on the table

“If you ever flirt with her, look at her or hell, if you even think about her when we come back next week, i will make sure no one remember how you look. And trust me when i say that this is not a threat but it’s a promise. Understood?” His voice laced with venom as he points his finger at Cameron’s chest who gulps,

Nodding quickly, he answers. “Understood.”

“Very well” Miguel retreats, taking a bottle of water from the table. “Stay away from my wife”

With that he walks out of the boutique, breathing out a heavy sigh, unscrewing the bottle cap before taking a gulp.

“How’s the interrogation goes?” You speak up with a playful smirk. “Did you manage to make him piss?”

He looks at you as he walks towards the car, shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” He replies.

Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms. “I saw you, papi. You almost kill the kid.”

“Again, i don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiles innocently, both arms snaking around your waist to pull you close. Seems like a good kid. So i didn’t say anything”

A laugh escapes from your lips, one that he loves most—besides your perfect moans— “I know you, O’Hara. Like i said, a bad liar.”

“Alright fine, you caught me” He holds his hands up in defense. “He’s lucky i didn’t punch him.”

“That would be a sight for sore eyes.” You tease. “You know there’s nothing to be afraid of, right? Ain’t any other man could possibly steal my heart like you did three years ago.”

“Yeah well maybe if you stopped looking so fucking beautiful with your big pretty eyes and soft pouty mouth, then maybe men wouldn’t try to chase you off and i wouldn’t have 50+ competitions” He complains. But in reality he doesn’t mind.

“Oh excuse me, Mr? You don’t think i got one too?” You ask him through your lashes since his physique is towering you. “I had to put your ex back in her place at the Gala we attended three months ago, you remember? Slimy bitch.”

He laughs hard at that, head shaking at the memory of you confronting Dana was truly one of the unforgettable moments he has of you. “So, what’s next on the agenda?”

You look back at your phone before replying, “Seating arrangements on 112th street. Now this, we can use that 20 minutes up for something else since they’re running late.”

Miguel’s eyes harden as your finger running up and down his chest. “You mean—“

“Offer still stands. Want me to ride you while we wait?” You chew on your lower lip, gazing up at him and giving him your best doe eyes.

“Baby, if i ever said no to that question… Please feel free to grab my gun under my desk and shoot me in the head” He states, making you laugh as you throw your head back.

-

This feels like shit :/ I’m sorry but i need to clear out a few WIPs in my drafts

Though i still hope you all like it!

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀LITTLE MISS PERFECT

synopsis : getting homosexual tendencies for her best friend? absolutely not!

note : i just started playing tlou2 again and my love for abby and ellie blossomed again. naughty dog knew what they were doing

ft. : questioning homosexuality, internalized homophobia, non-apocalyptic au, implied smut but not that descriptive, ellie already has a crush on reader but it’s not really described until they kiss and what not.

you search through the rack of bras, lazily looking for one that at least looks fitting. you huff, starting to lose hope. your hands stop at one. a black lacy one, which if your wore, would cover nothing. it reminded you of that erotic video you found went internet surfing.

two women alone together, exploring each other’s bodies. their tongues acting like a paintbrush and their bodies were canvases, covered in saliva.

you press your lips together, trying to push down the tingling in your body. you can’t be gay. you literally have a crush on that ABC news host.

“[name], honey? did you find one yet?” your mother asks, messing with the displayed jewelry. “no, there’s nothing here.” you sigh, hiding the bra in the rack.

you had no problem with homosexuality. hell, your whole search history is the complete opposite of heterosexuality. your best friend is a lesbian. but there is no way you’re gay. that’s…just not you.

after many of those “are you gay” tests, your answers remain the same. ‘you’re most definitely a lesbian, babes’.

you lay on ellie’s bed, blindly flipping through one of her many comic books. you blow raspberry, getting bored a little. “what?” she diverts her eyes from her TV for a second before tending back to her game.

“nothing.” you flip a few more pages until your eyes land on a certain panel. two girls in close proximity, lips ghosting over each other. you swallow a large lump, trying to push away the thoughts again.

but now you can only think of you in that situation. curled up next to a girl, her hand rubbing softly on your waist.

you try to picture what she would look like, only seeing your best friend’s face. you groan, rolling on your back.

“ellie?” she hums in response. you fiddle with your thumbs before asking the question. “how did you know you were gay?”

her game pauses. “what?” she looks at you before her eyes travels to her opened comic book. “ooooh.” she laughs, picking up the book. “you picked the one i didn’t want you to get.” she closes the book, stuffing it under her bed.

she leans back, propping herself up with her arms. “ i dunno. i just…” she shrugs, “never pictured myself with a guy. and you know, boobies.”

you softly hit her, making her laugh. “i’m serious, ellie. i think i might be gay. lesbian, bi-i don’t know!” you groan, stuffing your face in your hands.

“i mean, why don’t you?” she lays on her side, looking at you. “that ABC news host.”

“David Muir?”

you nod, making her scoff. “do you have a crush on any guy at job?” she twirls a strand of your hair in her fingers. “god no. they all look like troglodytes.” you grimace at the thought of liking them.

“can you picture yourself marrying a man for the rest of your life?”

that question made your stomach drop. you feel bile pile up in your throat. ‘yes, you can’ you try to convince yourself.

“no, i guess not.” you give a slight frown at your answer, looking down.

“hey, it’s normal. not everyone is straight. and you sure aren’t.” she laughs. “oh shut it!” you huff.

she stops laughing after a while. “well, let’s kiss to see if you are gay.” she suggest so nonchalantly. kiss? your best friend?

“uhhhh..” “if you don’t like it, we don’t have to ever talk about it.”

you look at her, contemplating whether you should go through with this. you couldn’t deny that ellie was very attractive. you could say that she was your “gay awakening”. they way she was naturally flirty with you was the beginning of the questioning phase for you.

“let’s do it.” you sit on your legs, waiting for her to kiss you.

she gives you a soft smile, getting up.

“you sure?” she questions, not wanting this to go wrong. you nod.

she takes a deep breath, putting her hand on your cheek to pull you in.

your skin ignites. this is what you’ve dreamed of. intimacy with a woman. natural intimacy. not like those forced erotic videos you watch in your free time.

her lips press on yours, her eyelashes tickling the apple of your cheek. you reciprocate the affection, putting a hand on her cheek.

a moan slips from your lips, your eyes fluttering shut. the hand on your cheek falls to your hips, her hand squeezing for a few moments to tell her that this is real; this is actually happening.

in a flurry, her body is pressed on top of yours, her tongue exploring every crevice on your mouth. her hands slipped under the hem of your jeans, fingers brushing over the seat of your panties.

you card your hands through her auburn hair. “els…” you call to her as she pulls away, a string of saliva connecting from hers and your bottom lip.

“you okay, princess?” she moves her hand at an angle, her thumb drawing tight circles on the pearl of your cunt. you arch into her, making her chuckle.

you nod, a moan slipping from your lips again.

“yeah, you’re definitely gay.” she giggles, stuffing her face in the crook of your neck, making you laugh too. “shut up and use your hands, ellie.”

“oh, i know something better than my hands.” she leaves your neck for a moment, digging under her bed.

she pulls out a harness. one not built for your shoulders. the purpose accessory catches your eye, making you widen them. “is that…”

“i haven’t used it yet.” she smirks. “your call.”

do you have enough red orbs? stop by my store to request a fic!

[zvdvdlvr]

Would love some more Hotchner blurbs. How about one where you are BAU and have a baby girl (name is up to you) and you bring in the little doll because you (and baby girl) wanted to see daddy? If you are against writing for children, please write Hotch x Reader where she is a civilian and has a stalker problem? Would love to see protective Aaron Hotchner. Thanks

— Popsicles

📎 — synopsis. You, Jack, and Giada go and visit dad at work!

📎 — warnings. Fluff. Tooth rotting fluff. Jack calls reader ‘mommy’. Will def be writing about reader with a stalker problem :)

The summer heat in Virginia was downright unbearable. To you especially, considering your aversion to heat. Thankfully, after being given a rather generous maternity leave, you could enjoy most of the beginning of summer in the air conditioned house.

Of course, Aaron had to go back for work earlier than you. That left you, Jack, and little baby Giada at home most of the time. You loved your babies- blood or not- but still missed the last part of your family: your husband.

So now here you are, Giada in arms as Jack jumps excitedly in the elevator with a cooler in his arms. Giada had been cooing and scratching at everyone and everything for the better part of two hours. You smiled down at the baby, heart swelling with joy as Jack wrapped an arm around your leg and started ushering you forward.

“Aunt Penny!” Jack shouted, dropping the cooler and heading straight towards his favorite technical analyzer. You reached down for the cooler before Derek materialized beside you and picked it up before you could.

“Not letting you lift a finger, y/n,” Derek scolded.

You just chuckled, earning a loud squeal from Giada. “Yeah, baby? Tell ‘im.”

Derek chuckled and wrapped an arm around you before moseying over to where Jack animatedly told Emily, Spencer, and Penelope about the Spider-Man cartoon he’d been watching.

Emily still listened intently as she wrappen an arm around you and let Giada grip her finger tightly. “It’s been rough without you,” she whispered to you. “I think Hotch misses you more than all of the rest of us combined- if that’s even possible.”

You nod, adjusting Giada. The toothy smile she shot up at you and Emily made all the recent sleepless nights worth it. “It’s been hard on all of us- being separated. I just might call Strauss up and tell her Derek needs to take over for awhile again.”

“Do it,” Emily agrees with a chuckle. She gently pries her finger out of Giada’s and nods towards Hotch’s office with a go get your man.

Your surprised that Aaron didn’t emerge like a caveman from his office (mancave) when Jack announced his presence, but at least now you have the opportunity to surprise him. A short come in filters through the door after your gentle knocked. You entered, seeing Aaron’s hunched over body. He wrote fast, you noticed. A smile lit up your face: positioned unprofessionally close to Aaron was a photo of all of you with Giada asleep in your lap- Jack’s head rested on your thigh with his mouth open in a little ‘O’ as he slept. Aaron was sat on the other side of you when he took that picture. He whipped out his cell and angled the phone so that you and the kiddos took up most of the screen.

“Say hi, baby,” you murmured, gently poking your baby girl’s chubby belly. Giada replied with a mix between a raspberry and a laugh.

Aaron’s head shot up. In record time, he crossed the room and enveloped the two of you in his arms and exhaled deeply. “Hi.”

You smiled up at him when he pulled away. “Hi, you,” you mumbled as your free hand came up to run a hand through Aaron’s tousled hair. “Gi and Jay wanted to come say hi… We miss you.”

Aaron’s eyes softened. “I missed you too, sweetheart.” He basked in the feeling of your comfort and Giada’s mindless babbling. “Where is Jack?”

“Handing out popsicles to the team,” you answered. “Here,” you eased Giada out of your arms and into Aaron’s. You watched with soft eyes as Aaron smiled brightly at the little body, gasping when her head fell on his shoulder.

“Clumsy girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the girl’s temple before adjusting her in his arms and letting you lead the way to the bullpen.

Rossi had joined the crowd of federal agents that now scarfed down popsicles like it was their last meal.

“Look who finally showed up,” Rossi quipped, jabbing you in the arm with a red popsicle. “Took you two lovebirds long enough.”

Jack giggled at your encounter and held up a popsicle. “Here mommy- I saved one for you! Uncle Spence was gonna eat it and it was the last blue one!”

“Thank you so much, kiddo,” you answered, accepting the blue raspberry popsicle. You held it out so Penelope could cut the top off for you. “Where’s J.J.?”

Spencer pointed in the direction of her office, wordlessly crunching the frozen treat. You held open and Jack took it. “Grab a green one so these heathens don’t eat all the good ones,” you told Jack. He grabbed one and giggled, avoiding Emily’s attempt to tickle him.

Jack pulled you forward, singing a random excerpt from a classic rock song you’d heard on the drive to the office. He skipped up and down, something you would have told him not to do if he was munching on a popsicle. You smiled to yourself, wondering how you’d gotten so lucky for your family.

[achilles-rage]

achilles-rage's twelve days of christmas

day one: it's beginning to look a lot like christmas (ft. evan buckley)

summary: decorating the tree with evan buckley and your daughter.

word count: 2.5k

series masterlist

a/n: you guys i'm so excited for this series!! i think this might be one of my favourite things i've written so far, it's so fluffy and it made me feel so warm and fuzzy lol!! also vivian is one of my top baby names so this feels self indulgent hehe. enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You’re wiping down the kitchen island when you feel two tiny hands grabbing at the hem of your sweater, and you look down with a smile when you hear your daughter’s voice triumph the Christmas music echoing softly through your house.

“Mama!” your daughter, Vivi, practically yells, and you have no choice but to pick her up when you see her big eyes staring up at you. You lift her into your arms and set her on your hip, then continue wiping down the kitchen island while Buck takes care of the kitchen counters.

You can feel a thin layer of sweat on your face, and you’re sure you’re getting a rash from the material of the bright red Christmas sweater you’re wearing, but you don’t dare take it off. When Buck and Vivi saw these matching family sweaters at the store, they just had to buy them, and you’re still not sure who had to convince who to buy them.

You’ve just finished making some sugar cookies to decorate for tomorrow, and now it’s time to clean up, which has proved quite tedious when baking with a two-year-old that insists on touching everything.

You hum along to the music playing, and Buck turns to face you as his hands still for a moment, taking in the sight of his two girls in their matching sweaters. He loves to see your features mixed with his in your daughter, and it makes his heart full to see you both smiling and giggling together. His little family, finally complete.

When you’re done wiping off the counter, you turn to look at Buck, whose neck is slightly red from his sweater. You shake your head with a fond smile, and when he turns to look at you again, he brings you in for a quick kiss, bringing one of his fingers up to hold your chin in place. When he pulls back, he looks down at your daughter, and holds his hands out to her.

“Hi, baby. You wanna help me finish cleaning up while mama gets the ornaments ready?” he asks her in a high voice, and you look down at her right as she practically launches herself at him. The little traitor, you think. When Buck’s around, she’s practically glued to him.

“Dada!” she says as her little hands grip his sweater. He lifts her up in the air before he lowers her to his chest, and when she’s firmly wrapped in his arms, he leans down to blow a raspberry against her neck. She squeals loudly, her little giggles filling the kitchen as you and Buck look at each other over her shoulder, both of your chests feeling warm and full of love. 

As Buck and Vivi finish cleaning the kitchen and take the cookies out of the oven, you go to the living room and begin taking out the ornaments and sorting them. You put the breakable ornaments up on the fireplace, out of reach of tiny grabby hands, and put the less fragile ornaments onto the coffee table, in your daughter's reach and eyesight.

When they finally come into the living room, you see white powder all over their sweaters, and you raise a brow at Buck, who gives you a sheepish smile. 

“She threw the first handful.” he tells you, and you scoff, laughing softly as you shake your head.

“Right, blame the child.” you tell him sharply, although the smile on your face shows that you’re not upset. If anything, you wish you were there to see the flour fight.

“Where star?” Vivi asks when Buck puts her down and she walks over to the coffee table. You smile, thinking of the ornament she made earlier today when you were babysitting Jee. She insisted on using every colour she could imagine, although the ornament had more or less turned brown from all the paint mixed together. 

You found a kit to make your own clay ornaments online, and decided it would be a good activity to do with them right before Christmas. You also know that Maddie and Chimney would love a homemade ornament by Jee.

“It still needs to dry, lovey. We can put that up when Jee comes over.” you tell her as you bend down to her level, and she lets out a soft huff. Her dismay is quickly forgotten, however, when her eyes land on the Disneyland Ferris wheel ornament sitting in front of her. 

“Mickey,” she mumbles as she picks it up, tiny fingers brushing over Mickey’s nose. “We go?” she finishes, looking up at Buck with the poutiest face you’ve ever seen. She’s barely two and she already knows exactly how to get her way.

“You wanna go?” Buck asks as he picks her up, and when she nods hopefully, her hair bouncing with each movement, you know what Buck’s going to say. 

“Sure, we can go, baby. Now, where does that one go?” 

She points up to the top of the tree, and Buck lifts her up to sit on his shoulder as she leans out to put the ornament on one of the branches. While you watch Buck help her secure the ornament with a loving smile, you cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head before you speak.

“You really want to go on that Ferris wheel six times in a row again and do absolutely nothing else?” Buck looks over his shoulder at you once the ornament is safely on the tree, giving you a big smile. You got that ornament on your first trip to Disneyland with Vivi, and she insisted on going on the Ferris wheel as many times as she possibly could, not wanting to bother with anything else.

“Come on, how can I say no?” he asks with a shrug, letting Vivi down to grab the next ornament. 

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger.” you tell him as you close the distance between you. His smile widens before your lips meet his, and one of his arms wrap around your plush middle as the other hand cups your cheek. Your hands rest on his chest as you kiss him passionately, and you part from the kiss when he starts to sway you two back and forth along with the music, laughing softly.

“She learned from the best.” he tells you earnestly with a wink, and for a moment, the dull itch from the sweater and the fact that you’re overheating in your silly festive sweater fade, and all you can focus on is the loving look in Buck’s gleaming blue eyes.

“Look! Pretty.” You tear your gaze from each other when you hear your daughter’s voice, and when you turn to her, you both grin. Her arm is outstretched to show you that she’s placed another ornament low on the tree, this one a big Hershey kiss from when you took her to visit Buck’s parents in Hershey.

“Wow, look at that!” you exclaim just as Buck says “Beautiful, baby.” 

The next half hour or so continues similarly; you and Buck working on decorating the top part of the tree with the fragile ornaments while you let Vivi have free reign over the bottom part of the tree that she can reach. 

She insists on showing you each ornament once it’s on the tree, and both of you take turns on telling her how good it looks before you continue putting up the glass balls and ceramic ornaments from various vacations and big moments you and Buck celebrated before Vivi was born.

After a while, the tree is almost completely covered, and you hear Buck let out an exaggerated gasp as you fix the tinsel that’s been randomly thrown across the tree by your daughter.

When you turn, you see Buck and Vivi’s matching grins, and then he lifts her into his arms again, examining the ornaments she’s holding out ceremoniously in front of his face.

“Dada ornament.” she says in her excited little voice, although the word “ornament” comes out more like “ornent.”

“Did you get this for me?” Buck asks her and she nods furiously, giggling at Buck’s clear approval.

“She saw it at the store the other day. She wouldn’t let me put it back; insisted we had to get an ornament for daddy.” you explain with a fond smile, tilting your head to the side as you watch Buck place a big, audible kiss on Vivi’s forehead.

You watch as Buck once again holds her up on his shoulder at her insistence that the ornament be placed front and center on the tree.

Your smile widens when you hear her little giggle, watching her clasp her hands together beside her face and her shoulders raise up to her ears as she takes in the sight: a bright red glittery fire truck placed right in the middle of the tree. You walk up to them, wrapping an arm around Buck’s torso as you rest your head against Vivi’s side. You sigh as you take in the sight of the nearly-complete tree, letting out a silent laugh through your nose when you feel a tiny hand pat the top of your head gently.

“Star, mama.” you hear in your ear after a moment, and you lean back slightly to look up at your daughter, so happily perched on Buck’s shoulder. 

“Should we put up the star?” you ask her, and she nods enthusiastically as she begins to wriggle out of Buck’s grip. Buck helps her down as you go back to the almost empty box of ornaments, taking the white and gold star out of the wrapping. 

By the time you get the star completely unwrapped and turn back to your daughter, however, she’s already sitting on the floor playing with one of her discarded toys, now completely disinterested.

You sigh with a smile, then walk over to the couch directly beside the tree and climb on top of it. The top of the tree is just barely within reach, and you silently curse Buck for letting Vivi pick out the biggest tree she could possibly find at the Christmas tree farm.

As you stretch up to get the star on top of the tree, you don’t notice that Buck is silently watching you, his eyes glued to your ass as he licks his lips. He knows he should be offering you some help, but goddamn, he also can’t pass up a view like this. If Vivi wasn’t just a few feet away from you two, he’d have you bent over the couch, lips attached to your neck, and, hopefully, a new sibling for Vivi in nine or so months.

He’s only torn from his thoughts when he hears your daughter stomp over to the tree, her voice high and upset.

“Mama, I do!” she tells you loudly, which startles you. It’s a good thing Buck was on the way over to you, because her shrill voice startles you, making you almost lose your balance with one foot on the arm of the couch and the other on the seat cushion. Buck is quick to grab your hips, slowly helping you lower to the ground before you have the chance to fall. 

When your two feet are pressed firmly on the ground, Buck presses a quick kiss to the side of your neck before he picks up Vivi in his arms and lifts her up to the top of the tree. You hand her the star, then watch with a smile, but you’re watching diligently; ready to dive for the star if she doesn’t put it on properly. 

Luckily, your smart girl is able to put the star on top of the tree with little difficulty, her excited giggle ringing through your ears when she pulls her hands away and sees that the star is staying in place. 

When Buck lowers her to his chest, she holds her arms out to you, her eyes silently pleading to move into your arms. You take her gladly, kissing her warm cheek as you look at the way the tree lights reflect in her eyes.

“Look at that, lovey. You did so good!” you tell her, bouncing her on your hip. She smiles widely, wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing you tightly. You feel Buck’s warmth wrap around you from behind, one hand resting on your tummy while the other rests on Vivi’s back.

“So pretty, Vivi. Almost as pretty as my girls.” He whispers the last sentence in your ear before he places a kiss right behind your ear, his hot breath hitting your neck and making you shiver.

“I love you.” you whisper after a moment, looking at him over your shoulder. He smiles down at you, then presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I love you. Thank you.” he whispers against your lips. When he pulls away, you raise a brow, confusion spread across your features.

“For what?” you ask, squeezing Vivi tighter against you when you feel her press a soft kiss to your cheek.

“For giving me my two favourite things.” he replies as his fingers dig into your tummy lightly and he tickles Vivi’s side with his other hand. You lean your head away as she squeals loudly right in your ear, laughing softly as Buck takes her from your arms and throws her up in the air.

“You want a cookie before we go to bed?” he asks her, and you narrow your eyes at him as you see her beginning to wiggle around in his grip, trying to get to the kitchen.

“You’re on bedtime duty tonight. I’m not gonna be up all night because you let her have cookies before bed.” you tell him sternly, although as you look at her bright smile and twinkling eyes, you know that you’d probably do the exact same thing as he did.

“I think I can handle that, mama.” he says with a wink. Once Vivi’s feet are back on the floor, she grabs two of Buck’s fingers in her little hand, leading him to the kitchen.

You three eat your cookies sitting on the floor in front of the tree; at Vivi’s insistence, and when you’re all finished, she’s almost asleep in Buck’s lap, her head resting against his chest and crumbs all over her face.

“You’re lucky the sugar didn’t catch up to her in time.” you tease Buck as you watch Vivi struggling to keep her eyes open, keeping your voice a quiet whisper so as not to wake her up.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world.” is all he says before he reaches out and pulls your lips to his, his hand on the back of your neck.

And he truly believes it. With you, and your little girl here with him, sitting in front of your beautifully decorated tree with Christmas music still softly playing from the TV, he doesn’t think life can get any better. And neither can you.

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[azen13]

Hello

might I request the grass ring for purchase?

A Promise To Keep

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Grass Ring: A small, shoddily-woven ring made from dead grass, containing echoes of childhood promises uttered in a land of frost. Maybe the ring’s maker, after disappearing from the world for three months before returning, acted on those vows.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

CW: Yandere Themes, Kidnapping, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Implied Murder, Blood

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Snezhnayan summers are always brief and fleeting. For only a few weeks a year, gray skies part like curtains to let the smiling sun gaze over every mile of the land of frost. Withered fields of grass sway with new vigor, trees awaken from their winter slumber, and flowers bloom in all sorts of stunning shades and hues. It’s also one of the few respites you have from aiding your father and siblings in tending to the house. With the icy waters bordering Morepesok rapidly thawing, the ship your mother sails has finally docked; with her return comes both the occasional small sack of Mora sneakily smuggled from her pocket to yours, as well as a gentle push to go and enjoy the fair weather while it lasts.

With windmilling limbs, you scramble out the front door into the bustling streets of town, and head off to your favorite place. It’s a little past where the dirt path ends: over a fallen tree, down a ravine, back up the other side, and just to the right of the raspberry bushes. Making your way through the last few trees, you find yourself in a quaint clearing. For a moment, you think the world is frozen in amber–both from the tranquility you feel, and how everything from the tallest tree to the smallest fern is bathed in a gilded glow.

“Hi there!”

A squeaky voice shatters the illusion of permanence and manages to make you stumble backwards until you slam into a sturdy spruce tree trunk. Looking into the tall grass, you manage to spot a single sapphire blue eye, then another. With a rustle, a flame of ginger hair and a grin that could span the whole of Teyvat pops out from the brush, framed by a speckling of freckles. “Who are you? What are you doing here? My name’s Ajax, what’s yours?” The boy practically pelts you with a myriad of questions, eyes sparkling with interest.

You mumble your name in response, eyes falling down in fear and disappointment. You had hoped to enjoy some time soaking in the solitude of this little slice of paradise, but the journey seems to have been all for naught. 

You quickly learn the entire life story of Ajax, who follows you home after you tell him you had gotten lost in the woods. He lives in Morepesok with his large family, he likes adventuring, and he likes fishing with his father. Also, he likes you, evidenced by the fact that he won’t leave you alone.

Tailing from behind, still rambling incoherently about all sorts of things, Ajax doesn’t seem to take the obvious hints that you want to be left alone. “...and the fish we caught was THIS big! A-and me and my dad brought it home, and my little sis–I told you about Tonia, right? She’s my younger sister, she’s about this tall and she really likes…” His mouth is a never-ending river of words that only ceases when you slam the door to your home shut.

Hopefully you can go tomorrow and enjoy the warm summer sun before the chill of winter returns once more.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He’s there when you come tomorrow again. And the next day. And the day after that, until eventually, summer’s brief stint has faded away, only to return in a year. At least, you think, you won’t have to ever see Ajax until.

How wrong you are.

It seems the boy is practically camped outside of your house, watching your every move. If you’re carrying groceries, he’s quick to sidle next to you and take them into his own hands. He must think he’s being chivalrous, but you disagree. You try to fight the constant barrage, but find yourself crumbling under it after a while. You start answering his questions, asking some of your own, even. He’s not horrible, just a little overeager.

Soon, you’re happy to call Ajax a friend.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The promise is made on a brisk fall evening, snow and leaves blanketing the ground like a patchwork quilt of white and orange. The two of you sit in a small clearing surrounded by tall grass; you’re reading a book while Ajax breaks blades of grass and fiddles with them in his hands.

“We should get married.”

You frown and close your book. “Why?

“Why not?”

“Because we’re thirteen, your dad doesn’t like me, and my parents think you’re a weirdo,” you say.

Ajax huffs and crosses his arms. He’s pouting, but you can tell it’s just to cover his amusement. You’d both gotten good at that–reading each other like books, able to point out your favorite chapters and lines. “Well we could do it in secret. Or even do it when we’re older,” he says. An epiphanic look flashes on his face, and he snatches a few more blades of grass. Tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, you watch as he weaves and contorts the grass until they form a small ring. 

With eyes full of starlight, he presents the ring to you. “C’mon, please? Just promise me.”

You sigh and hold your hand out. “Okay, okay, fine. If you’ll stop being so annoying, sure.” Immediately, he slides the ring on your finger, boyish glee dancing in ocean-blue eyes. “Pinky promise?” He demands, holding his pinky finger out expectantly.

Of course Ajax would ask to pinky swear on it. The boy always kept his promises.

“Fine.” You loop your pinky around his for a moment, before letting go. “Now let me get back to reading.”

Ajax only laughs, though his eyes stay glued on you.

You didn’t realize that this was both the last time you would ever see Ajax again, and the moment your fate in life was sealed.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Days later, you receive the news. Ajax is missing. Supposedly he had gotten lost in the woods. You spent the next few days in a perpetual state of distress, constantly tearing through branches and brambles, desperate to find your friend.

It didn’t take long until he’s found, though not by you. The moment you hear, you race over to his house and knock on the door. Ajax’s dad, however, is the one to greet you. He’s a tall, lanky man with scars that cut through his face and a permanent scowl marring his cracked lips. At the sight of you standing outside his door, his ire only deepens. “Ajax isn’t here. He’s with the Fatui.” 

With that, he swings the door shut and lets it slam only inches from your face.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Time moves on,  and you let your life take its course. You take up a job planning shipping routes for merchants, and find yourself falling in half-hearted love with a sailor. 

He’s a good man. But he is not the man you love.

Soon enough, encouraged by family and friends, a ring is slid on your finger. It’s a simple band of silver, yet it feels like a chain around your heart.

You accept your life for what it is. That is, until one morning, you wake up to still air beside you instead of a warm body. Unknowing of what has actually happened, you get up quietly and begin getting ready for the day. 

After putting on some clothes, you go to the small foyer of your little home, ready to go down to the docks and start working. But when you swing open the door, dull blue eyes as deep as the sea meet yours, a monstrous grin splitting a stranger’s face open. “Aw, it’s been so long! It’s so good to see you.” The man walks past you into your home as though he’s lived there his whole life. As he walks, you notice he’s trailing something in behind you.

Blood. It’s blood. When he turns back to face you, you notice droplets of blood speckled on his cheeks like freckles. He’s still smiling.

“Get out of my house,” you say.

“Or what?”

You hesitate. It’s not like Morepesok has an official police, or even anything close to a militia. “Or I’ll scream.”

The stranger’s smile melts away like snow under the sun, and he steps closer to you. “Don’t you remember who I am?” He asks. 

At the sight of you shaking your head, and you taking another step away from him, the stranger tsks and stalks forwards. A hand moves forward, so fast all you can see is a blur of motion before it captures your jaw, claims it. Its fingers force your face forwards, straight into those storming eyes. “What a shame,” the man sighs, his other hand slinking behind your back. “We made a promise, darling.”

His words shoot like icicles into your heart, rendering you speechless for a moment. “A-Ajax?” You murmur, body beginning to fall limp. The only thing holding you upright are his hands, firm against your skin.

Ajax smiles, but it isn’t a sweet smile of summer innocence. His smile is jagged and icy, full of frost. “It’s me,” he confirms. You can vaguely see mirth swimming in his eyes, as though he thinks you’re so shocked to see him, so elated to know he’s still here. But in truth, you’re terrified. After all, it’s not exactly a challenge to make the connection between the blood on Ajax’s cheek and your missing husband.

“Did…did you?”

“Come on, darling,” Ajax responds, sweeping you off your feet into a bridal carry. “We made a promise, didn’t we? And you know how the saying goes.” The man chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We made a promise. And you broke it.” For a moment, you feel fear unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. “But don’t worry. I know that you didn’t want to marry him. You were waiting all those years for me, weren’t you?” He presses another kiss to your head, holding you closer.

You try to speak, but Ajax shushes you. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you what real love looks like.” With a steady gait, he begins walking outside, looping around your home to where a carriage is waiting. Gently, he brings you inside and deposits you on a bench. His eyes are full of hunger.

“That’s a promise.”

[unsuredreamer]

Your Heart pt 2

Bridget Hearts 🩷 x fem! reader

Half of it is in the present, making Bridget an adult, but i decided to use Queen of Hearts for her older cruel version

Also, I wrote it overnight, so it might not be that good. Bear with me 😭

"Hey B...you have to eat. Please eat this for me" Ella passed her friend a sandwich, a simple peanut butter-jelly sandwich, with the crust cut off in the shape of a heart. Bridget loved heart-shaped things. It was her signature, her favorite shape, her favorite word, her favorite thing -scratch that- it was not her favorite thing , nor would it be when you existed.

She loved raspberry jam. The sweet yet tart flavor, which reminds her of summer sunshine - bright, vibrant, and refreshing. The fruit possesses a delicate, ephemeral quality that makes it delightful and memorable for the senses. You loved raspberries and she loved how you talked about how 'they are better than strawberries because every raspberry tastes delightful and you'd have to pick a good enough strawberry for it to taste even remotely as good as the one and only fruit'

Now, she feels physically sick at the thought of even looking at the pink colored fruit.

"Come on, my heart, I'm going to teach you how to swim today. I promise not to let go of you ever, okay?" Your bright smile lit up her world as you guided her through the maze of the forest. It was an ordinarily hot day in Auradon, the tree crowns pleasuring you with shadows as the colder than usual water refreshed your bodies.

She loved your Thursday picnics on the hills. With your special pbj's and her basket of pastries. It was sweet as usual,

Why Thursday? She felt bad that no one liked this day of the week, the constantly forgotten day that no one really plans anything for it. Friday's better, and Wednesday is the middle of the week. So you made it your mission to make this day the best of all after seeing her sulking one day about it.

You'd sit and just talk for hours in the sun. Far away enough from your favorite tree for it to not be shielding you from the sunbeams. Her head on your lap, with your hand tangled in her pink locks as you dreamily described every possible shape you could see while looking at the clouds. Her eyes averted from you to the landscape every now and then. It was perfect. The warmth of the biggest star shining on your faces, colliding with the chilly breeze grazing your skin, it was a wonderful mix.

"What are you thinking about, my heart?"

The phrase rolling off your tongue just like a melody, Her name said by you engraved in her memory for good.

"Nothing, really. I'm just enjoying the moment with you. It means a lot"

It truly did mean a lot. A feeling nothing would ever top. The calmness she felt and relief while being with you. You were like an oasis on the desert. A huge blanket she jumped under after a long day. And a warm shower after a heavy, freezing rainstorm. The love bursting from you just made her wish she was the one loved by you forever. She wanted to be the only one your eyes lit upon seeing. Seeking every ounce of touch from you.

The sight of your unconscious body made Bridget shiver and freeze. She fell, her weak knees hitting the blood-stained ground. The once beautiful, white pebbles, turning maroon as the red liquid pooled out of the corpse.

Her hand reaching for yours only for it to vanish into thin air.

"Bridget?" worried Ella placed her hand over her best friends shoulder. "I will leave it here, okay? please eat, i will be back as soon as i can, promise." She placed the sandwich on the bedside table, grabbing all the untouched food she had brought previously. Walking out of the room, she was met with nothing but silence. Not even a hum from the very hurt and broken princess.

A dead body with a spear shot right through the heart. Hazed eyes and this defeated expression, staring longingly into the distance. The white button-up shirt peppered in small hearts growing more and more burgundy.

Ella felt terrible. She couldn't help her friend even if she wanted to. All she could do was to be there and comfort her. At the same time not being able to throw those awful memories of this day from her own head. Watching her bubbly and full of life platonic soulmate completely shut off and become a ghost of a person was truly painful. Those excruciating sobs she tried to cover up so badly at night hurt her heart to the point she herself tried not to let out a waterfall of tears.

"She will be back! I can feel it! I'm not crazy I swear!" Those broken attempts of yells mixed with cries of helpfulness.

Bridget didn't even try to. She only did so in case to not wake other students up. Her burning chest could not let her sleep. Even if she did have some rest, you visiting her in her dreams would only strengthen the feeling. She felt you faltering away from her. She began to forget the sound of your voice and the way you laughed. She could not possibly, she has to remember every single detail of you.

The gut-wrenching pinning in her lungs made her unable to breathe. All she did was lay under her covers, trying to feel the warmth your hands delivered every time you placed them on her body. Delicately on her waist, harshly on her shoulder, gently grabbing her fists, trying to stop her from her madness. Placing them on her cheek, trying to steady her breaths after another panic attack she had gotten from her confidence tumbling down like dominoes thanks to her bullies.

She touched herself in chance she gets the same result, the same sense of someone being there for her like you were. But all she got in return was a deathly cold hand on her skin and the imaginary feeling you were still there to hold her. To brush her hair away when it fell so ungracefully on her face upon baking another batch of cupcakes with you, raspberry cupcakes with the hint of white chocolate, Both flavors going excellent with eachother like you and Bridget once did.

She felt your presence, hugging her so close, so firm from behind, wrapping your arms around her body as if saying you're still there, and you always will be.

But you were not. It was a lie she was very aware of dragging herself into. Hurting herself every day with the false presentation of you walking around her room, smiling from ear to ear, blabering about how you'd make another couple happen, about how it was the perfect match. You were her perfect match, and now she's left alone with only half of her heart. A piece of yours was the only thing of you she had left, beside a hoodie you once had given her.

She was going mad. She stayed in it for days and days only for it to not lose your scent she so desperately wished to keep. But even this would falter eventually.

"B, come on, you have to shower. I promise not to wash the hoodie. It'll be waiting for you after you get out"

She lied, she had to wash the hoodie, it lost its charm and the beautiful smell. Ony giving her the illusion it was still there.

Heck, everything was an illusion. Her head was playing tricks, not even the best magicians could. Her heart fell for them miserably, sinking so low that nothing could ever pick it up and place back where it belonged. It belongs to you.

-

"Mom, Mom? Are you okay?" Worried Red placed her hand on her mothers shoulder. It's been half a year since her and Chloe changed the past. She was getting used to her mother being nicer, more loving. They talked more often, and she felt more comfortable being with her. But it was the first time she had seen her mother in such a state after what she had seen in the past.

The lifeless expression was quickly slapped off the Queens face - replaced by a very gentle smile - upon hearing her daughter speak, her touch sending a wave of shivers throughout her body "Oh yes Red my dear! We should be heading to the family's day dinner now, shall we?"

On the way to Auredon, through the rabbit hole, Red had to keep herself from asking about the woman she so yearned to know more of. She did not want to hurt her mother even more than she already was. It was one thing to lose someone. It was another to lose someone who devoted their whole life to you "I love you, mom,"

The Queen took ahold of her daughters hand smiling lightly, the unexpected words coming out of her mouth made Bridgets chest swell with gratitude "I love you more darling"

"I'm going to say hi to Chloe" Red ran off after giving her mother a side hug. Small gesture, but it made Bridget smile once again.

She loved having her daughter, her little angel. Red was like a small light in her life, someone she grew to care about after all she had been through. She tamed her, just like she used to tame her, the bad thoughts and the voices in her head, the anger and the anxiety.

"Off with his head!" the words echoed through the dining room of the palace.

"But, but Bridget, He is your daughters dad and soon to be ruler of -"

"He's no father to Red, nor will he ever be my husband. I don't need him anymore. Shall I repeat my order?"

She was always bound for this fate. To be this mean, cruel ruler. To go mad. Everyone's mad in Wonderland. It's up to you to decide how mad you're going to be.

But Red was there. To quieten the voices and relieve the pain. She lived for Red, who brought the happiness back into her life. The small bits of it, but nonetheless, she was her greatest accomplishment.

"Bridget!" Her bestfriends voice brought her back from her daydreams. After a very warm hug, she greeted her with yet another smile. Never this bright how it used to be, but still a smile of some kinds.

Her dear husband coming right after her.

The envy she felt forbidding her from sparing even a glance at him.

"We've just been talking with Beast and Belle about the upcoming plans of Mal and Ben, and - how are you B?" Ella stopped after acknowledging her dear best friend, staring at the ground, totally cut off from the world, the old rusty pebbles glistening in the daylight.

"I'm great, Charming, never better!" The pink Queen of Hearts burst out. Was she truly feeling better? Never, only in the comfort of her bed chamber with your blouse tightly clutched in her hands. "You could tell me more about your daughter getting into the advanced fencing group? I heard from Red she's excellent. Oh, and my congratulations on your son finishing up college. It's about time this happened!" she laughed light-heartedly reaching for her necklace, silver necklace with a cherry red glass heart.

Suddenly a crowd of ghasps echoed at the event, terrified royals hang tightly onto their lovers and children upon seeing a human-like posture fly over the sky, loose its every ounce of power left and hit the ground so hard it almost looked like a grenade explosion. As the dirt and small stones fell down, the King stepped up, getting closer to the figure, "Everyone keep calm"

The fallen angel covered was by its huge white wings, resembling those of Icarus, burned down by the sun and worn out presumably from flying too much. The groan it let out was so piercing and full of pain, squeezing every person's heart in sorrow and compassion. Its wings dissappearing in an instant, uncovering a beautiful, goddes-like woman. With wet hair falling imperfectly on her face and her clothes torn apart, loosely hanging off her body. Her bloodied bruised skin mixed with dirt was an excruciating scene to be looking at. Her broken voice let out whimpers and pleads.

"Let's get this creature out of here" Mal, the Queen, ordered, her eyes glowing green upon being alarmed of the potential danger.

"NO!" The Queen of Hearts let out loudly, startling everyone present. Dragging herself closer to the fallen angel, basically running straight to it, she dropped on her knees before her. Bridget's eyes started to water uncontrollably, her heart hammered in her chest as her shaky hand reached out to cup the angels head and place it on her lap. "My love..." she brushed your hair away, smiling from ear to ear. The tears streamed down her face as she finally held you close.

You were there. Alive.

Your eyes fluttered open, your blurred sight coming back to senses "Who are you?" You breathed out upon seeing the pink posture hovering over you "And why do you have my heart?"

[xo-cod]

dad simon fluff because i'm sad. rushed and ooc ‼️

might be confusing to read because i didn't name the baby, i tried 🥲

it was early morning, too early for his liking as simon yawned before he spread the butter across the toast delicately. slicing up some fruits alongside it. it had been seven whole months since you both welcomed your pride and joy, seven whole months of a world he didn't think was possible to ever receive in this life. how he adored you and how he cherished his baby so deeply to his heart, in some ways it makes up for all the pain he suffered in his past to be able to have his two greatest gifts beside him every day.

he finished plating up, walking back to the living room and there his infant stood, big brown eyes gazing at the tv with delight. her eyes were one of the first thing he noticed when she had been born, they were one of the features that she had taken identically like his. and they looked absolutely gorgeous on her.

he never thought his life would turn out this way, spending the majority of his youth and his adulthood in the taskforce. at some point he grew to accept that the life price had offered him was the only one he would ever receive, he got used to the idea that perhaps love wasn't something everyone got to experience in this world. but then you came along and you gave him the greatest gift he could've ever possibly recieved, turning his world on its axis for the better.

a foreign feeling to simon whose life had been dominated nothing but by violence and loss.

"c'mere munchkin, breakfast" the soldier in him calling it out like a command only his voice was gentle, fatherly, as he picked her up securely before delicately placing her in her high chair.

and much like his features, his baby seemed to take his attitude too.

she huffed and squirmed on the chair, her tiny face crumpled in a frown having been taken away from her dear cartoons and made to eat.

"is this little girl trying to be stubborn, eh?" simon narrowed his eyes but his face showed pure amusement, his face leaning down to kiss her temple softly. she immediately relaxed and babbled softly while he smiled, sitting on the chair next to her as he fed her the food.

simon was still learning everyday what it meant to be a father, he promised himself he'd never turn out to be the way his own dad was. he vowed never to do that to you or his child. never to become the way his father had been.

but he had barely finished giving her the breakfast before she gasped excitedly at the cartoon once more, baby babbles falling from her lips. he watched, resisting the urge to coo and chuckle at her state. and then he watched as she mimicked the tv, pretending to be dinosaur while she blew raspberries at him.

it had been her new thing now and simon felt pure joy tugging at his heart, wishing forever she'd stay this way so he could protect her from everything. how innocent and carefree she was here in this moment, how time was cruel because he could already feel it escape and slip through his fingers. pretty soon she'd be turning a year old and it felt like just yesterday he was bringing her and you back home from the hospital

"now what do little dinosaurs say?" simon entertained her playfully, helping her down while she stomped around in her onesie looking at him with pure mischief.

"you have to roar at me for it to work, yeah?" he playfully growled back as he nuzzled his face up against hers and he started to gently tickle her on her side. she collapsed into shrieks of laughter, only deepening the smile on his lips as he laughed along with her. he watched her small arms flail about, trying to make her voice sound like the effects on tv but failing miserably

and how his heart ached in his chest as a result from it. he hoped she would never lose this spark, this streak of mischief, being so full of life and love. she was already growing much too fast for his liking but he was so excited for who she'd be, she was his mini after all

he heard your soft gasp and then a gentle laugh, turning back to look at you with a look of fondness at your arrival. you'd never looked better to him, half asleep and still as beautiful as the day he had the pleasure of looking upon you for the first time

"did you hear that, lovie?" simon grinned, looking back at you before he kissed his baby's small cheek as he set her down on the floor once more. he gently faced her towards you, helping her walk across while you made your way to the couch

"show mama how you roar like a scary little dinosaur" simon encouraged with a playful tone, poking her side softly. you followed his gaze and looked down at the baby who was roaring just as she had been before she hiccuped and stumbled on the floor. her soft grumbles fell from her lips which prompted the both of you to chuckle gently at your baby. she looked close to having a tantrum but simon was well acquainted with all her little moods, distracting her quickly

"oh no, my poor little dinosaur. whatever will it do now?" he feigned sadness which caused the infant to burst into giggles, almost tripping over towards his big arms as he caught her and held her close to his chest. his own gentle laughter mixing in with hers and you could only watch with a tenderness in your heart, always hoping deep down in your heart your little family would always remain this happy.

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 9 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica visits Beta Brewing and meets one of Bradley Bradshaw's former fraternity brothers. He's flirtatious, and she's surprised by it. But nothing surprises her as much as the way Jake can be so sweet and sexy at the same time. But she doesn't know he's only ever been like this for her.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, 18+

Length: 6600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Bradley Bradshaw helped Jessica climb up into the backseat of the idling vintage Ford Bronco with her notebook, a pen and her overnight bag. He somehow looked even more handsome in jeans and a tie dyed shirt with a backwards cap than he did in his uniform. "I can't thank you enough for doing this," she said as he released her hand and smiled. 

"It's nothing," he replied casually with a shrug of his broad shoulders before closing the door. But it was definitely something to Jessica. It had been a very long time since she had friends. She watched as he climbed back into the driver's seat and leaned over to accept a kiss from his wife. His handsome cheeks flushed a little bit as he cleared his throat and asked, "Ready to hit the road?"

"Yes," Jessica said as she buckled in for the half hour drive up to Beta Brewing. Advanced Calculus was turned around in the front seat, handing her a snack box filled with mixed berries and artisan cheeses. 

"Bradley packed these for us," she said with a grin as she held up a second one. Sure enough he was blushing a little more now.

"Thank you," Jessica gushed, biting into a ripe raspberry and thinking about what Jake might be cooking for dinner later tonight. She'd never eaten this well in her entire adult life.

"It's nothing," Bradley said again as he turned onto the highway. "So how much beer do you think you'll need for this fundraiser?"

"At least two kegs?" Jessica said as she ate some of the cheese that was practically melting on her tongue. "More than that will kill my thousand dollar budget."

"I think you're better off with three," Advanced Calculus said. "I know you don't have a final headcount yet, but with the way Bradley and Jake drink, you'll run out with just two."

Bradley laughed. "You really think Jake and I could drink an entire keg of beer ourselves?"

"The two of you drank the equivalent of a keg of champagne on New Year's Eve," his wife replied easily as she fed him a berry.

"Ah yes," he rasped, "the inception of Dr. Tits." Jessica laughed as Advanced Calculus smacked his shoulder. Bradley looked in the rearview mirror and asked, "You know about Dr. Tits?"

"Yes," Jessica replied, recalling the story of drunk Jake and the low cut dress. Of course Advanced Calculus had been a good sport about it. 

"And you still want to date Jake Seresin? He's a goddamn menace."

"He's actually much less annoying since he met Jessica," he wife remarked. 

"Shit. You're right," Bradley mumbled. "Okay, you actually have to date him. You're never allowed to break up with him either."

After that, Jessica got some inside scoop and funny stories about her boyfriend. Apparently he tried to sleep behind the bar at their Navy hangout on his birthday last year. And at Starbucks, he likes to give Hungman as his name just to see if the baristas will say it, but at least he leaves them a nice tip for their troubles. And neither Bradley nor his wife could ever remember Jake having a girlfriend since he graduated from the Naval Academy. 

"Here we are," Bradley said as he pulled into a parking lot right next to a beautiful cliffside beach. Beta Brewing was written in huge graffiti lettering on the side of an industrial building. Bradley wrapped his arm around his wife and headed toward a door off to the side with a sign that said Tap Room.

Jessica followed behind them and asked, "What was your friend's name again?" She was suddenly very nervous that she was going to sound like an idiot asking for a deal on this guy's designer beer.

"Dev Borah," Bradley said, pulling the door open for the two women to go first.

"He's nice," his wife promised. "You'll like him."

Jessica took a few steps into the bar area that smelled delicious and was decorated like a tasteful fraternity house. "We open at noon!" boomed a voice from the long bartop. "Sorry!"

Bradley chuckled and said, "That's bullshit. You can't turn away a Beta Gamma brother."

"Oh shit!" the other man with dark hair and a big, beaming smile said as he looked up and slammed his palm down on the countertop. "Bradshaw! I completely forgot you were coming up today."

Jessica watched as Dev popped up from behind the bar and gave Bradley some weird, elaborate handshake before they both started laughing. "It's good to see you man. Been a few months," Dev said, eyeing up Brashaw's wife. "And it's honestly rude of you to try to keep this one away from me." 

"Hi, Dev," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"I still can't believe the two of you got married. That's fucking wild," Dev replied before focusing his attention on Jessica. A crooked smile appeared on his lips, the kind that let her know he would have been quite a handful when he was in college. "And you're Jessica?" he asked, reaching out to shake hands with her. "Damn. I've gotta get down to San Diego more often." 

She laughed and shook his hand. Maybe she didn't have anything to be nervous about after all. This man seemed like a goof as he took the three of them on a tour of the brewery and back into the areas he assured her were top secret.

He also seemed to understand the entire process involved here. He answered all of their questions about brewing beer and the business end of things. "We're shipping as far as Pennsylvania now," he said when Jessica asked about distribution. "Making it hard for me to crunch all the numbers myself, but I'm really particular about who I let in on the details." When he stopped in front of an industrial looking door, he punched a code into the keypad and said, "Let's dip into my personal stash."

The room was his office, and it was massive with floor to ceiling windows and a view of the cliffs and the beach. Jessica watched him open a stainless steel refrigerator and select a few bottles and cans from his collection and line them up on his glossy desk. "This is incredible," she remarked, looking out the window while Bradshaw gazed longingly into his wife's eyes and said something about only drinking the good beers. "Your whole setup is incredible."

"Thanks," Dev said as he opened a bottle of beer called Greek Week and handed it to her. "Started the whole thing myself about seven years ago."

The beer was absolutely delicious, and Jessica wondered if she could buy a six pack or something to take to Jake's place. "I like this beer. Can I get it in a keg? For that event I believe Bradley mentioned to you?"

Dev smiled and said, "We don't keg this one. It's a limited release of 500 bottles."

She almost choked on it. "500 bottles and you're letting me have one? Are you insane?"

His laughter was contagious, because soon she was laughing too. "You can have one. His wife can too, if she wants. But Bradshaw gets one of the regular beers. That's what he gets for never helping me with my homework. That asshole graduated top of our fraternity."

"Yeah, I absolutely did," Bradley said, winking at his wife as Dev handed him a different beer. "Sugar made sure I spent plenty of time in the library. Studying." His wife looked a little bashful, but she accepted her own bottle of the limited release Greek Week beer and sipped it.

"If you want kegs," Dev said, "we can walk through the warehouse so you can see what's available. I have a few brews that were aged in barrels and a few others as well right now. You can try some samples in the tap room and take whichever kegs you want."

Jessica nodded and finished her beer. "Sounds great. I'll probably need three kegs, but I have a very limited budget, so two might have to work."

Dev just waved her off. "We'll talk about it down there." He led the way through a labyrinth of hallways and down an elevator to the warehouse. "Careful," he told Jessica with a wink as he held a door open for her. "Usually I don't let anyone in here with high heels, but I don't think I could tell you no to anything you wanted to do."

Jessica looked down at her jeans and heels and then back up at him. "I'll be extra careful."

"Let me know if you need to hold my hand," he said with that same grin before leading the way toward rows and rows of kegs where a handful of employees were working. "Point out the three you want unless you want to taste them first."

"I've tried all of them," Bradley told Jessica. "There's no such thing as a bad beer made at Beta. They are all good."

She didn't want to cause any extra work for anyone. She just wanted the event to be successful which meant staying under budget. "Can I just take three of your least expensive ones?"

"Is that really your deciding factor?" Dev asked, waving someone with a cart on wheels over. 

"Yeah," she replied with a wince. "I'm sure they're all great! The Greek Week was amazing! But I need this fundraiser to be as successful as possible, and the finances are tight."

Jessica wondered if she could come back up with Jake and his truck one day to pick them up, but Dev asked, "Can you fit three of them in your Bronco, Bradshaw?"

"Yep," Bradley replied, his arm draped casually around his wife's shoulders. 

"Okay then," Dev said to the man with the cart. "Load one keg of Gamma Rays, one of East Coast Girls, and one of Nerd Core into the fancy blue thing parked outside."

Jessica's math brain was swirling. "How much do I owe you?"

Dev shrugged. "They retail for three hundred apiece, but you can have them at cost."

"Well, how much is that?" She was starting to panic now. 

Dev was laughing again. "I'm not going to charge you a penny for the kegs. It's on me."

Bradley laughed, too. "That's just bad business, man. Didn't you study accounting?"

"Nah, I studied girls," Dev replied, smirking at Jessica as she blushed. "Come on, I'll send you home with some bottles."

Once they were in the tap room, Jessica insisted on paying for two six packs of beer while Bradley and his wife picked some out of the coolers as well. "I can't thank you enough," Jessica told Dev as he ran her credit card. "This whole thing is just really important to me getting tenure at my school, and... just, thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said as he handed the card back to her. "Bradshaw can make up for it in manual labor when I do my next brewery expansion."

Jessica looked to her left to where Bradley was setting down the beers he wanted to buy. "N-No," she stammered. "I wouldn't want anyone to have to do that!"

"I'm kidding," Dev promised as he took Bradley's credit card. 

"You could come to the fraternity event!" Jessica blurted out. "And I could definitely promote your brand, too."

Dev tossed the card back to Bradley and shooed him away with his hand. Jessica thought she heard Bradley laughing behind her as Dev leaned a little closer, his perfect smile back on his face. "Just to clarify, are you asking me on a date?"

Her jaw dropped open. Would it have been that easy for her to get a date with him? She was shocked. He owned a brewery worth millions of dollars. "Oh. No. I have a boyfriend."

Dev shook his head. "Not surprising in the least. Email me the details for your event. I'd love to come, even if it's just an excuse to see you smile again."

"Okay," she said softly, taking both six packs in her hands. "And thanks again."

Jessica stumbled outside into the sunlight where Bradley and his wife were practically making out next to the Bronco which was filled with three kegs of beer. Even when she approached them, he didn't bother to remove his hands from her butt, but Jessica supposed that was a good sign that they considered her a friend as well. 

"So? You ditching Jake for Dev?" Bradley asked, laughter in his voice. 

"No!" Jessica replied. "But I can't believe he gave me the kegs for free. Really, it's thanks to you."

"Don't worry about it," Bradley replied, opening the door for her before walking around to the passenger side for his wife. "Dev's loaded, and he's nice anyway. So if you ever do decide to ditch Jake, you have options."

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

The Longhorns game was on, dinner was ready to go into the oven, and Jessica just texted that she was on her way. Jake was lounging on the couch, ready to spend the rest of the day and all night convincing her that she should show him her pretty green underwear and let him take it off of her. 

He bought a new box of condoms, just in case. He felt a little weird digging into an open box for her, so he just tossed the last few he had, deciding to start fresh. In a lot of ways, that's what he was doing. Starting fresh. 

Everything around him was spotlessly clean. There were new sheets on his bed. He had Sam Adams seasonal beers in the fridge. He had his couch ready for snuggling. He just needed her. 

When she knocked, he rocketed off the couch, fixing his hair on the way to his door. "Hi-" The words died in his throat and he grimaced as he was met with Bradley Bradshaw, but at least he was holding some beers. "Rooster."

"Hangman," came the response with a smirk. When he pushed his way inside, Jake saw his wife was behind him, and then he finally saw Jessica. 

"Jake," she sighed breathlessly, and he collected her up in his arms. He kicked the door closed as she kissed him, but he was wondering why there were four people in his condo instead of two when all he really wanted to do was take Jessica to bed.

"Hey, Baby. How was the brewery?"

Bradshaw was laughing as he made his way to the kitchen. "You can kiss your girlfriend goodbye. Dev Borah wants her. He just texted me asking how serious Jessica is with her boyfriend."

"Who?" Jake asked, wrapping his arms a little tighter around Jessica.

"The beer guy. His fraternity brother," she replied, kissing him softly. "Bradley's just kidding."

"He's not kidding," Bradshaw's wife said as she picked up one of the journals on the coffee table. "Dev really texted him."

Jake didn't think he actually had any cause for concern as Jessica wiggled her bag down her arm and let it drop to the floor so she could snuggle against his chest. "Why don't you text him back and tell him to fuck off," Jake told Bradley who was now rooting around in his refrigerator. 

"What are you making for dinner?" he mumbled. "Bruschetta chicken? Sugar loves it when I make that for her."

"Bruschetta chicken?" his wife replied, also hustling into Jake's kitchen.

"Fuck," Jake whispered, "they're never gonna leave."

"Sorry," Jessica mumbled. "Bradley insisted on carrying the beers I bought up here for me. I got you a bottle of this one called Greek Week which Dev told me is a limited release, and I think you'll really like it."

Jake kissed her lips softly and asked, "What's it going to take for you to forget this Dev guy all together?"

She blushed for him and glanced toward the kitchen before she said, "I didn't wear my pretty green things for Dev. I wore them for you."

A smirk instantly appeared on Jake's face. Images of Jessica's bare pussy rubbing on his khaki uniform pants while she whined for him filled his mind. He would just have to make sure he was very good for her every single time, because there was no way he was giving her up now. 

"Can we stay for dinner?" Rooster asked from the kitchen. "I want to compare recipes." 

"No," Jake drawled as Jessica's lips found his neck in the briefest of kisses. "I'm going to say this as nicely as I can: Get the fuck out. Please."

"So rude," Bradshaw's wife replied, but she was smiling. Jake watched her lean in and whisper something to her husband. 

His eyes went wide immediately, and he was nodding as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. "Yeah, I can do that for you, Sugar," he said softly, but Jake still heard him. Then Bradshaw cleared his throat and said, "See you on Monday, Hangman. Bye, Jess." He dragged his wife behind him as he made a beeline for the door, and she waved as she laughed.

And then they were gone, and Jake was just thankful it wasn't awkward at all when Jessica whispered, "I was afraid they weren't going to leave," as she ran her fingers up underneath his Longhorns shirt. 

"He would have stayed, but she's a good wingwoman," Jake replied, kissing her temple, his lips meeting the cool plastic of her glasses. "And I just want to spend time alone with you. You want to sit on the couch? Have a few beers?"

The Longhorns game was on mute, but he'd lost interest in it anyway as Jessica carefully stepped out of her high heels. Now she really had to look up at him as she started to unbutton her blouse, and Jake's hands were on her denim covered hips immediately as he felt his cock twitch in delight. He was shocked and about to suggest taking things to his bedroom when he lost the ability to speak. She shrugged out of her blouse and draped it on the arm of the couch leaving her in a sheer, white camisole and her green bra. 

"Sure," Jessica replied casually like she wasn't nearly stripped bare from the waist up for him. "I'd love a beer. Want to try that one called Greek Week?"

"Yep," he grunted in response as she pushed against his abs until he was sitting on the couch. 

"We can share it," she whispered as she walked into his kitchen like she belonged there. Even from behind, Jake was entranced. The white fabric looked soft and stretchy, and he wanted to know for sure. He also wanted to see her without that silly little shirt on at all. "Fuck."

He watched her open the bottle and take a sip before heading back his way. When he patted the spot on the couch next to him, she settled in with her legs folded up and her knee resting on his thigh. He was plainly hard in his briefs and gray sweatpants as she leaned on him. He had a great view of her tits down her nearly nonexistent top as they were pressed together now. 

"You want some?" she asked, looking up at him and adjusting her glasses. He wanted everything. It was actually fucking crazy how he reacted to this woman.

He leaned in and kissed her. "I want some of you, but I guess I'll try the beer as well." Then he took a sip, and it was good, which kind of pissed him off. He didn't know anything about this Dev guy, other than the fact that he was in Bradshaw's fraternity back in college in Virginia, but now he was imagining him flirting with his girlfriend. 

When he handed the bottle back to her, she took another sip before setting it on the coffee table. Then she settled back against him, her hand grazing his cock through his sweatpants. She gasped. "Are you comfortable?" she whispered as he ran his fingers up her bare arm. 

"Not really," he murmured, watching her head tip to the side in pleasure. He ran his lips along her soft shoulder. "You're teasing me right now."

"I'm not doing anything," she moaned. "Jake."

But he was too busy sucking gently on her pulse point below her ear while he worked his fingers underneath that pretty, green bra strap. She was half sitting on his lap now, reaching back with her hand to brush his cock again, this time intentionally. 

Her breath was a soft whimper as she asked, "Don't you want to watch the Longhorns?"

Jake pulled his lips away from her and paused with his right hand on her hip and his left fingers dipping down inside the front of her bra. He watched her trace the head of his cock through too many layers of fabric with the tips of her pink painted nails. 

"If you want to play games here, Jessica, I'm afraid you might lose, Baby."

That one sentence was enough to have her spinning around to face him,  straddling him and sitting back on his thighs. "You didn't answer my question," she whispered, looking at him like she meant business in her decadent little outfit. She ran her hands down the front of her body to the button of her jeans and asked, "Do you want to watch the Longhorns?"

His fingers flexed on her hips, and he leaned back against the couch, eyes fixed on her as she unzipped her jeans and let him see some of that green lace thong. She wiggled herself against him and reached for his left hand, guiding it inside her jeans. And if he thought her shoulder was soft, then the skin above her panties was heavenly. He was aching as he stroked her, watching her chew on her lip as her glasses slid down her nose a bit. 

Then she reached for the bottom of that white camisole and pulled his clean off over her head, tossing it toward her previously discarded blouse. Jake groaned at the sight of her pink nipples pressing against green lace. And there was a tiny green, satin bow right there between her tits on her bra. He couldn't decide if he wanted to chew it off or rub his nose on it, so instead he leaned forward and kissed it before pressing his lips to the swell of her right breast. 

She smelled like expensive perfume and she tasted like a dream. Her fingers were soft in his hair as he continued to toy with her panties, but he brought his other hand up along her ribcage to join his lips on her tits.

"Jake," she said firmly in what he could only imagine was her stern teaching voice. "Do you want to watch the Longhorns?"

He pulled his mouth away from her tits and reached up along her back to her bra clasp. He suddenly pulled her closer, making her gasp as she sat with her jeans pressed to his hardness and her hands on his shoulders. Then he looked her in the eye. "Jessica, the only thing I want to watch right now is your pretty pussy taking my cock."

Jake smirked as her mouth fell open, and she stared at him. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he licked her lips and undid one of the hooks of her bra. "And maybe the way your gorgeous tits bounce for me," he added with a smirk.

A moaning, whimpering mess. That's what was sitting on his lap right now. He watched her reach back and guide his hands so he was undoing the second hook closure on her bra. Then she pulled her hair to the side and let him guide the green lace away from her body. The way the straps slid down her arms was making him throb, and he kissed the soft skin in their wake. Then her breasts were free of the fabric, and she was looking at him expectantly as she chewed on her lip and stifled a moan.

"Baby," he gasped, throat suddenly dry as he let her bra fall to her lap and took her in his hands. She rolled her hips forward as he moulded his hands to the perfection of her tits and buried his face between them. Two flawless handfuls. And they were real. He could hardly remember the last time he'd been treated to something this exciting. 

He had his mouth everywhere on her, sucking one nipple and then the other between his lips. Licking long stripes from beneath each breast up to her collarbone and back down again. He squeezed and caressed and nuzzled until she started to shake, his name starting to sound desperate on her lips. "Jake," she moaned like a wounded animal, shoving his hands inside her open jeans and grinding. 

But he reminded himself that a horny quickie was not right for the first time. Second, third and fourth? Yeah, absolutely. But not right now. "Will you let me take you to bed?"

"Yes!" she practically shouted, fingers digging into his shoulders. He stood up, Jessica clinging to the front of him, and carried her to his bedroom with his hands on her ass. Her lips were on his neck, and he could hear the needy sounds she made as her nose pressed to his ear. 

There was soft afternoon sunlight filtering in through Jake's bedroom windows, and everything looked dreamy as he set Jessica down on the floor at the foot of his bed. A bashful smile ghosted across her lips as she reached for the bottom of his Longhorns shirt and guided it up his torso and over his head. "Oh," she gasped, and Jake nearly purred as she ran her fingers through his chest hair. "Ohh." Then her hands trailed down to his sweatpants, and it was over. 

"Jessica," he growled when she reached inside and yanked them down his hips. He was so hard in his black briefs, he had to beg her to be gentle as she pulled them down as well. Then she was stroking him with her small hands, giving him a few experimental pumps. 

He had to squeeze his eyes shut and take a deep breath when she whispered, "That's enough teasing, don't you think?"

"Get on the bed."

With a soft squeak, she did as she was told, scrambling onto her back so her tits shook invitingly. But he needed to focus here. He needed to be good. Great. Spectacular. This was his girl, not just some girl. His cock was bouncing as he watched her pull her jeans down over her soft hips and thighs, leaving her in just that sinful green thong.

He crawled on top of her, propping himself up on his elbows, and he let his cock rest on her thigh as he kissed her lips. "You're so fucking beautiful, Jessica."

Her fingers were back in his chest hair before she looped them around his neck. "So are you."

He hummed against her lips. "I bought condoms this morning. Give me a minute to get them?"

But she shook her head. "I don't want to use a condom with you."

The noise he made was actually perverted, and he thought his eyes were going to roll into the back of his head when she pressed her pussy up against him. "You want me to skip the condom?" he ground out, his hand cupping her breast. He stroked her nipple as she whined the word yes over and over again. 

"Please," she gasped. "I'm clean. I got tested last year. I haven't had sex in a year."

"Oh my god." She hadn't had sex in a year. How was that even fucking possible? Pretty face, perfect body, smart as hell, and she wasn't even getting fucked? "Jessica, are you on birth control?"

"Yes. Are you clean?" she asked, and Jake just kind of froze there. He had never skipped a condom before. Even at his drunkest. Even in the bathroom at the bar. Even in the bed of his truck on the Fourth of July. He had used a condom every single time he'd ever had sex since he was sixteen years old and lost his virginity. And right now he was afraid he was going to cum after two seconds inside her without one on. And if this perfect woman went a year without sex, she deserved to have him last an hour. 

"I'm clean," he confirmed, and she pulled him down for a kiss.

"Then what are you waiting for?" she whispered before swiping her tongue into his mouth. 

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

Jessica was so turned on, it felt like her skin was on fire. She was making this pitiful noise at the back of her throat, and she couldn't seem to stop no matter what she did. She was already thrusting up, rubbing herself on Jake like a needy cat, back arching off his bed. If he didn't fuck her soon, she was afraid she might start crying. 

But right now he was just kissing her forehead and cheeks and looking at her while his golden chest hair teased her breasts. His cock was heavy on her thigh, and she needed it inside her. It was an absolute necessity right now. The fact that she could go from completely normal all morning at Beta Brewing to a filthy mess for him right now was startling. 

"Baby," he whispered, shaking his head. "Jessica."

Then he let one hand trail down her body and slip inside her underwear, and as soon as he touched her clit she sighed in relief. His fingers were sure and steady as she stroked the back of his neck with both hands, scraping along through his hair with her nails. 

"Jake," she gasped, and he kissed her lips as he fucked her with one long finger. But even when he added a second, she already knew it wouldn't compare to his thick cock. She was aching for it. He was going to make her beg for it, she needed it that badly. It had been a year since she had sex with Brian in his office, and he was nowhere near as big as Jake. This anticipation was almost too much now.

The swirl of his thumb on her clit was delicious though, and Jake trailed his kisses down her neck to her chest. He pulled her nipple gently between his teeth before sucking. Her back arched off the bed again as she rode his fingers. "Oh god," she moaned. "Jake." 

Okay, okay. He seemed to know just what to do with his mouth and hands to make her wild. Just the right amount of pressure. Just the right speed on her clit, too. All she needed was for him to fuck her. 

"Please?" she asked softly. Then she reached for her glasses. Maybe that was the problem. They always seemed to be in the way for activities like this, so she took them off. 

That seemed to draw him out of his daze as he released her breast and gasped, "What are you doing, Baby?" His face was blurry to her now, but he still looked handsome.

She ran her foot along his bare leg up to his hip and brushed his cock. "I want you," she whispered, hips jerking as he continued to work her clit. "Thought maybe you'd want me to lose the glasses?"

"Back on," he instructed sternly, so she slid them back on her face. Then he kissed her lips again as he drew his soaking fingers out of her pussy and used them on her clit in place of his thumb.

When she ran her fingers along his face, he moaned into her mouth. "Jake, please," she whispered, breaking the kiss and shaking her head from side to side. "I need it."

He groaned and laughed softly, and she was searching his face. "I want to make you feel so good, but you do a number on me Reedy. I'm a little concerned I'm gonna come immediately."

"You are?" she whimpered. 

He nodded and kissed her softly. "Yeah." She watched him pull away from her to gently ease her thong away from her pussy and down her legs. He held the green fabric to his nose and grunted, keeping it in his right hand as he took his time to press kisses along her thigh before kissing her pussy. She bucked against his face, already clenching as he kissed her again and again. Then he brought his hand down to his cock and pumped a few times before lining himself up with her and pressing the tip inside.

Then his face was hovering over hers again as he planted his hands near her head. His kisses were a little desperate, but so was she. Then he started to move, and it was everything she needed. "Jessica," he hissed, his face contorting in pleasure as he filled her all the way, stretching her out. 

And if he was the one who was afraid of coming right away, he had nothing to worry about. She was whimpering, she felt so full. He was thick, and the stretch was so good, it was almost painful when he started to thrust. She laced her fingers through his silky hair, pulling him closer so he could feel her lips quivering.

"You're so big," she moaned, and he absolutely devoured her mouth just the way she wanted him to. Her fingers tightened in his hair as he rocked into her, and when he brought his fingers back to her clit, she was already fluttering. 

She slowed him down just a little bit with the roll of her hips, and then it was perfect. He actually felt perfect to her. Whispering her name against her neck and moving his fingers just right as he kept her full. When he gasped, "Baby," she clenched around him, and it brought on a tidal wave. 

"Oh," she moaned, digging her fingers into his neck as she rolled her hips and started to come. She was whining for him as he sucked on her collarbone, and she just kept getting louder. Her voice was strained to her own ears. There was a crescendo of her gasping his name, and then she was just panting softly and shivering beneath him, her hands limp by her sides on the bed as her pussy continued to clench.

Jake met her gaze, still fucking her as he combed his fingers back through her hair. Then he smiled, as she bit her lip and whimpered his name. "You feel good?" he asked. 

"So good," she whispered. Jake adjusted her glasses and kissed her before tucking his hands underneath her and lifting her up. He flipped them so he was on his back and she was straddling him, and she had to brace her hands on his chest. 

She combed her fingers through his chest hair again, and now she was the one leaning down to kiss him. She felt powerful now that she got her pleasure and felt sated. She was ready to give him what he wanted. "Do you feel good?" she asked, turning his question back around on him. 

Jake responded by propping himself up with one hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist. "Incredible."

As she leaned back a little bit, she kept her hands braced on his shoulders, and sure enough, his gaze drifted down to watch as she slowly slid herself up and down along his cock. God, he was thick, and she could tell she was really gripping him. "You wanted to watch me take your cock, didn't you?"

Sweat was breaking out on his forehead, and he swallowed hard. "Jesus Christ, you're gonna be a fucking handful." Then he thrust his hips up, ramming himself deeper, and she shrieked in delight at the stretch. 

"Do it again!"

So he did. And again after that. And again. His head was tipped back now as the tempo increased, and she pressed him flat on his back again as she rode him. He seemed so much more confident now too as he brought his hands and mouth up to her breasts. His white teeth looked so pretty as he ran them against her peaked nipples, and she fucked him a little faster. But his trimmed pubic hair was rubbing her clit at this angle, and the faster she went, she realized she was getting close. Again.

"Fucking gorgeous," Jake muttered, switching from her left nipple to her right and sucking. And then she bucked her hips, and he looked up at her as she parted her lips and tried to speak. But she just made another embarrassing noise, and her hair fell in front of her glasses as she sank all the way down around him.

But this time she took him with her, his fingers tangled up in her hair as he grunted, "Jessica." Pleasure rippled through her, not as intense as the first time, but it was still incredible, and she eased herself down to rest against his chest as his hips slowed as well.

Jake carefully ran his fingers through her hair until she could see his face again. "There you are," he whispered, coaxing her a little closer for a kiss. His cheeks were flushed, and he looked like he was as affected by everything as much as she was. His movements were languid and unhurried, and the smile on his face was dreamy and genuine. Had she ever been with a man who looked at her like this after he unloaded inside her? He wasn't even making any move to get up yet.

"I really like you," she blurted out, immediately embarrassed. 

"Yeah, well, I just made you come, so..." he said with a little shrug as he ran his thumb along her lips.

"It's not that," she said, letting him trace her lips before she continued. She looked down at his neck as she whispered, "You seem excited by me."

"I am," he confirmed as she started to sit up. "Where you going?"

She wiggled her hips and let his softening cock slide out of her. "Just going to get cleaned up."

Jake's left hand shot out to hold her in place as she straddled him. He was propped up on one elbow, staring at her pussy as she felt his cum dripping along her thighs. "Oh my god," he growled. When she looked down, she watched his cum drop onto his abs, and she could feel herself blushing. 

"You're looking at me like you've never enjoyed a creampie before."

He sat up so she was straddling his thighs and making an even bigger mess. "I haven't. I've always worn protection in the past."

She was shocked as she let her arms slide around his neck. "Always?"

Jake kissed her as her forehead came to rest against his. "Yeah," he whispered sheepishly. Maybe that's why he seemed to get a little nervous for a minute there. But Jessica was so incredibly turned on right now by this information, she was about to ask him if he could go again yet. But he was holding her so sweetly now, just cradling her against his bigger body and kissing her like there was nowhere he'd rather be. "Okay, Smart Girl. Let's clean up, and then I have something I want to show you."

"What is it?" she asked as he stood with her in his arms. 

He ran his nose along her jaw and kissed her. "Oh, you'll love it, Baby. It's a spec sheet on the new Super Hornet outfitting."

She gasped. "Jake. Really?" This had to be the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her.

He chuckled softly as he took her into his bathroom. "It's an archive copy, so a few things have been redacted, but I have it all memorized so you can work out the math as many times as you want."

"You're a dream," she whispered against his lips. 

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

Nice to see Dev again! It's been a while! Nervous Jake, I love you. He almost fumbled things for a minute there with his woman. Are we taking bets on round two later in the weekend? Think he can keep it together? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

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[saintblk]

*ೃ— INDULGENCE | ROY HARPER + KALDUR’AHM

warnings: foul language, drug and alcohol use, mfm intercourse, dubcon (reader is drunk + nonconsensual creampie), threesome, p in v, double penetration, manipulation of you squint, unprotected sex (use protection pls!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (all gender neutral), roy x kaldur (established relationship), college au — gender neutral afab reader, considered to be black + thick

word count: 3.9k

note: RAH ITS FINALLY OUT. i been wanting to finish this for sooooo long:0 if there are any pronouns please don’t hesitate to let me know ! i proofread like three times but there is a chance that i may have missed something. lmk what you think! i might do a poly drabble/series if ppl really like it🙈i think this was more for me than anyone else but enjoy;3

had to repost cause it wouldn't show up in tags the first time:(

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

YOU WERE OUT of your element — that much you knew. in your three years of college, never had you been invited to a frat party and it seemed convincing yourself you weren’t missing out on much finally paid off. because you truly could not see the appeal of the environment before you. it was hot–no, humid. the entire house stunk of sweat, alcohol, weed, and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. the air was charged with hormones and filled with so much smoke you weren’t sure how there was enough oxygen. not to mention, the amount of times you nearly threw caution to the wind to fight the third guy who used the tight space as a reason to grope you.

it had to be a lie when people talked about how fun and crazy a party was. a ruse to rope other people in to make a big house feel like a small, stuffy room. the reason for your attendance that night and your very best friend was donning a screwface that went quite well with her dark red dress as her gaze stayed attached to the man who’d invited her. he had one hand wrapped around a bottle of beer, and the other around the neck of the girl he was sucking face with.

“i told you, he’s not serious about you.” you tried to reason with her over the loud music. “let’s just split and you can forget about him-”

“fuck that. i’m gonna stay and show him exactly what he’s missing out on,” she decided before eyeing the crowd of people. “you can chill, grab a drink or something.”

rolling your eyes, you make your way to the drink table and find mini bottles of tequila. packing several of the untouched bottles into your shoulder bag, you make your way to the more quiet, mellow staircase. finals had just ended; a reason for this raucous soiree, though you much rather spend the night and every night over the summer break locked up in your room, binging trash reality tv shows. you supposed you couldn’t expect everyone to be like you, to not want to spend their night trying to get around multiple people all standing in the same hot room, acting on impulsive desires and liquid courage.

you blew a raspberry and scanned the room once again, catching sight of your friend grinding on a man you hadn’t seen before, and you were sure she hadn’t either. certain you were going to have to keep an eye on her so she didn’t get into anything potentially dangerous, you leaned your head against the nearest wall and got comfortable. eventually, you’re joined by a couple who decided the steps behind you were as good as the privacy of a bedroom. you could hear the man whispering empty promises to his female companion. how he was serious about her and only her, with each one of her complaints shushed so he could continue his inebriated ramblings. after downing three shots and placing the empty bottles on the floor beside you, escape came in the form of the 6’3 hunk who happened to be in your poli-sci class. kaldur’ahm smiled warmly at you, taking note of the exhausted look on your face.

“are you enjoying yourself?” he asks anyway, standing in front of you so as to not block the staircase.

with a scoff, you look down at your perfectly manicured toes in a pair of heels you couldn’t help but think were being wasted on this event. it wasn’t as though you could ever look kaldur in the eyes anyway. kind soul that he was, he still managed to intimidate you with his build and height, and the only time you could appreciate his god-given looks were from afar when he wasn’t looking at you.

“i’d literally rather be anywhere else…” you drawl while fishing another nip of tequila out of your bag.

though you can’t see it, too busy avoiding his gaze, he feels bad. despite living in the very house, he could never really keep his friends from throwing insanely wild parties that always ran too long.

“would you like to join me upstairs? roy thinks it’s quieter there but i don’t think there’s a difference.”

a smile comes over your face, and without meaning to, you let your eyes flick up towards his. when he offers his hand you don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t take it until you catch sight of your friend, pressed up against the guy she was so ready to swear off not even an hour earlier. you open your mouth to argue that you should keep an eye on her only for her attention to shift for a moment towards you. the thumbs up she gives you is encouragement enough, and you keep yourself from rolling your eyes when you place your hand in kaldur’s.

he guides you through the bodies littered up the staircase and standing around the rooms none of the guests were allowed to go in. his skin is warm and surprisingly soft and you inwardly swoon when he squeezes your hand. you find that the once booming music becomes a low thump on the walls, matching the bass when he leads you into his room. still loud, but not enough to egg on the headache plaguing you. sure enough, roy greets you with one of his lopsided smirks while he busies himself with rolling a fat blunt. the involuntarily bashful smile you respond with reminds him of the reason why you’re really there and why kaldur had gone downstairs in the first place.

“hey pretty,” he greets with a quick once over of your figure. “you look like you been drinkin’.”

you shake your head and fiddle with your fingers, anxious under his gaze while he lights his blunt. “m-mm, i’m fine.”

“do you have to smoke in here?” kaldur griped as he approached the redhead.

“what, you gonna be mean to me in front of company?” roy shot back smoothly. “i’ll even let you take the first hit since you clearly need to relax.”

kaldur waves him off and bats away the hand that reaches towards his waist as he walks towards the couch on the other end of the room. you take the seat beside him and take out your phone to let your friend know where you are and to call when she’s ready to leave.

“be careful,” you hear roy warn. “kal gets pouty when he’s tired.”

“i’m not tired and i don’t get pouty,” he bites out much to your amusement.

“no? you weren’t just being fussy about wanting me to get ready for bed?”

fed up, kaldur simply sinks in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. while thinking about how adorable their dynamic was, you notice roy’s gaze lingering on you again. it was no secret that he was just as attractive as kaldur and when the fact began dawning on you is when you began reconsidering your presence in their bedroom.

“you don’t look too happy yourself.” he gets up and plops down on the other side of you. “what’s got you down, sugar?”

your lips twist as you recount your night up until then. somehow, you suppose under the influence of alcohol, you don’t seem to notice or care how close the two men have gotten. roy’s arm found its way on the back of the couch and kaldur was sitting close enough for his knees to be knocking against your own. the cannabis from roy and the sweet vanilla just barely filling your nose from kaldur give you a heady feeling, the mixture of their scents nearly as intoxicating as the liquor in your system. somehow it’s just as hot as it was downstairs and your heart is starting to thump erratically in your chest.

“your friend is an asshole-”

“don’t say that.” you chide just before emptying another bottle. “she just really likes this guy.”

“she abandoned you,” kaldur joins.

at the thought, your shoulders slump and your eyes get just a little glazed. with a maudlin mind, you can’t help but consider their words ringing true. did she really care about you? about the fact that you were extremely uncomfortable at parties? social butterfly that she was, couldn’t she have taken one of her other, far outgoing friends? you sniffle a little, overemotional and perhaps a lot more drunk than you thought you were. but they’re both there to place strong hands on your thighs in consolation; squeezing and rubbing maybe a little too close to your hips, you’re too far gone to care. perhaps part of you knew what they were up to, how sleazy they both really were. but to have been wanted by two very hot guys at the same time was a bit uplifting in the moment. you turn to roy first who moves your braids back over your shoulder.

“y’know, we can make you feel better.” he husks and caresses your cheek.

you can feel kaldur’s breath fanning against your ear now as he hums an agreement. it sends goosebumps down your arms and an insatiable fire up your spine. a soft, breathy moan slips past you, encouraging him to press his lips against your throat and draw out more of your saccharine sounds. the upturn of roy’s lips against the corner of your own is what makes you close your eyes in anticipation. your eyebrows are furrowed and your hand is clutching desperately to his shirt, he’s sure there’ll be strains and wrinkles on the fabric. but he thinks it’s all worth it to see you practically on the edge of tears for a single kiss. when he finally does kiss you, it’s a quick, soft peck that forces a whine to erupt from you.

kaldur rolls his eyes at the sight, “stop toying with her. give her what she wants.”

“nuh-uh,” he snickers. “not until she asks for it. tell me what you want, y/n.”

“w-want you to kiss me,” you gasp when he nips at your jawline teasingly. “plea-please, roy.”

“so well-mannered,” he hums sarcastically. “think you should be rewarded for that?”

you nod frantically, just as he wraps a hand around your throat. you watch him wet his lips, following the movement of his tongue before he starts to pull you closer. roy kisses you once, then again, and finally presses the fervent kiss you so richly deserve on your waiting lips. you moan approvingly as you lean into him. all the while, kaldur’s exploring hands dance towards the jewel between your thighs. unconsciously, you spread your legs further and further until he has his hand up your dress, palm pressed up against and cupping your heated center. your moans are muffled through roy’s mouth, as you buck your hips to feel something, anything.

“so needy…i’m willing to bet you haven’t been touched in so long.” kaldur husks, slipping a finger past your damp panties to rub your throbbing clit.

a choked mewl fills the room as delirium begins to seep into your brain. he lets you grind against his fingers, frenzied and fiending for release. roy pulls away from your lips in time for kaldur to slide two fingers into your sopping cunt. the both of them relish in the sounds they’re drawing out from you while they work on marking up your neck. your senses go into overload when another set of fingers begin rubbing on your clit again. between the tongues dancing on the skin of your neck, clashing with one another every so often, and the assault on your lower lips, you’re being driven crazy by the two men.

your climax arrives like a wave crashing against your body, incapacitating you and forcing your every thought to be nothing but fuzz and static. the party has long since flitted from your worries; it’s simply you and two people who want you more than anything in that moment. the garble of nonsense you spew makes roy chuckle as he plants hot kisses up your jaw. kaldur is still going with slower strokes despite the way you burst on his fingers.

“look at the mess you made,” he breaths and pulls his fingers into your view. they’re coated in your essence, though neither of them seem to mind when roy tugs his hand towards his mouth.

you watch with glossed eyes, filled with arousal as he licks kaldur’s fingers clean. the lewd act has you clenching your thighs together to sooth the returning ache between them, only garnering kaldur’s attention once again. with a hum, he cups your chin with the hand covered in a light sheen of saliva and turns you towards him.

“was that not enough?” he inquires, gazing deep into your eyes and you can’t find it in you to look away. “do you want more, angel?”

all you can do is nod before leaning up for a kiss. his lips are soft and sweet and make you feel like you’re floating in the air. while kaldur’s tongue delves into your mouth, roy is helping shift you on the couch. you let them move your body as though you were nothing but their plaything, and soon enough you’re seated in kaldur’s lap with your back pressed against his broad chest and your legs spread. with your head twisted to continue locking lips with him, you don’t notice roy kneel on the floor in front of you until his hands come in contact with your thighs again.

simultaneously, kaldur’s hands flit from your waist up to your chest. tugging the straps of your dress down and allowing it to pool at your waist, he cups both your braless mounds and begins to massage them. your panties are removed next, abandoned somewhere behind roy. both you and kaldur pull away to watch roy press hot, open mouth kisses on his way up to your pearl. his hair tickles the skin near your knee but that’s soon forgotten when his lips come in contact with your labia. your mouth falls open with a sharp gasp, and for a moment roy considers drawing this out. but just the sight of you, in his boyfriend’s arms, pretty, and waiting and so very patient, he doesn’t think he could deny you of what you want any longer.

his tongue laps vigorously at your clit, only moving down to fuck your hole every so often. he groans at the taste of you, determined to make you cum again so he could share the taste with kaldur. your mind struggles to focus between the pair’s actions, only to allow pleasure to take over and blanket your senses. while roy indulges in your soaking cunt, kaldur pulls your head back so take your lips into his own.

you moan into his mouth with each of roy’s actions but kaldur doesn’t mind. he swallows your lewd noises, snaking his tongue past your teeth and seeking out your own pink muscle. calloused fingers tweak and twist your nipples before one hand begins to slide downwards. with your ankles locked behind roy’s head, the ginger struggled to feast the way he intended to. that was the case until kaldur spread your pussy lips for him, giving him full access to every part of you.

when your second climax approached, roy didn’t bother slowing down. he nipped and sucked on your clit relentlessly, watching with gleaming eyes as you were overcome with an earth shattering orgasm. you shook and thrashed in kaldur’s arms, whining as roy continued to abuse your overstimulated parts.

only when he needed to breath did roy come up from between your thighs. reaching up past you, he cupped the back of kaldur’s head and pulled him down. you watched hazily as the two met for a sloppy kiss. the taste of you on roy’s tongue found its way onto kaldur’s taste buds. he groaned, deep and low before delving his tongue into roy’s mouth.

“taste so good,” kaldur mumbled before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“think you’re ready for more?” roy inquired as he gets up and rids himself of the white marina he’s wearing. you nod dazedly much to his disappointment. “use your words, pretty.”

“yes, wan’ more.” you blurt, “please gimme more.”

kaldur leans into your ear, lips brushing against the cartilage. “get on your hands and knees, angel.”

you do as he says without hesitation. before long you find yourself looking up at an equally naked kaldur while roy, who also stripped himself of the rest of his clothes, inspected your backside. a wad of spit fell from his mouth onto your swollen sex and his hand followed to spread his saliva. just as a moan fell from your mouth, you felt something prod against your bottom lip. looking up, you noticed kaldur easing his girth into your mouth. quickly, you began to suckle on his tip before he continued pushing into your mouth. he filled every crevice, pushing past your uvula and hitting the back of your throat.

“you can take us both, can’t you?” he asks, so soft you can’t bring yourself to do anything but hum an agreement.

as if on cue, roy’s thick mushroom head eased it’s way into your cunt. he parted your gummy walls, suppressing the noises building up in the back of his throat. your walls were quivering and warm and sucked him in like you wanted him to stay inside you forever.

“fuck…” he grunted, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. “f-fuck baby you’re so tigh-tight.”

incapable of replying, all you could do was let your eyes roll back and take both men. ecstasy enveloped all three of you, encouraging you to chase the high you all desperately craved.

so when roy’s hips began to stutter and his movements slowed down, you took it upon yourself to fuck him back. it only proved to help when kaldur found purchase on your braids and began thrusting into your mouth. the recoil from his movements were strong enough to help you send your backside into roy’s hips.

“bein’ so good.” kaldur grunted over you only to pull himself out of your mouth. “but i need you to look at me, angel.”

while he slapped himself against your lips, you managed to drag your eyes back up at him. the pleased hum he let out only sent you further into an oblivion you didn’t want to find your way out of. the simple thought of being able to satisfy both men seemed to take you to rapture and beyond.

with kaldur in your throat, all that told of your orgasm was the garbled noises you made around him and the way you clasped around roy. he groaned as you gushed around him, soaking the both of your thighs and the couch underneath you.

“already?” he snarked, pulling out as kaldur’s movements slowed. “what d’ya think kal — should we give y/n a break?”

“not yet; not until i get to be inside them.”

sea green eyes bore into your’s, making the depth of your abdomen twist with need. the hand that held your braids slid down to caress your face and ran a thumb over your bottom lip.

“you’ll let me do that, won’t you angel?”

an eager nod soon has you trapped between two large bodies, incapable of remembering what exactly led up to this. with kaldur below you, holding your legs open, he pushed into you until he was bottoming out. roy, who stood before you, took a step closer and placed his tip against kaldur’s shaft. the red headed man slowly worked himself into you.

“w-wait, i can’t–” you squealed once it dawned on you what roy was attempting, and proceeded, to do. “s’too much!”

“‘course you can, baby.” he grinned down at you. “y’said you could.”

the stretch came with a slight burn since your body had never experienced any of this before. your innocence was what previously kept you from indulging in desire, and what now allowed you to welcome it all the same.

you could barely breath as they lay inside you, granting you the chance to get used to the feeling. surprisingly, disregarding all the patience he possessed, kaldur was the first to move. with an unrelenting grip on your thick thighs, he thrust upwards, eliciting a groan from roy and a gasp from you. roy was quickly following suit, he and kaldur both eager to please you and one another.

you were soon reduced to a mess of nonsensical noises and high pitched whines. every touch sent a wave of heat through your body; it was too much and not enough all at once. sweet release came and left and came again, but it did not stop both men from fucking you like they were possessed. in that moment you were nothing but an object to them; a hole for them to use that happened to have a pretty face. and you were treated as such.

you had past the point of fucked dumb, incapable of doing anything but wailing from the growing intensity of every orgasm that followed. tears danced down your cheeks and attempting to form the simplest thought was fruitless. all that remained in your mind was the everlasting feeling of lust and gratification.

trapped in hedonism, both your companions increased their relentless pace. each of them were far too occupied chasing their own highs to worry about you. roy, who had wrapped a hand around your neck, kept his eyes closed as he approached release. meanwhile, kaldur nipped and sucked on your neck while thrusting into you from below. his grunts and deep groans reverberated against your skin, eventually filling your head along with roy’s guttural sounds.

“taking us so well,” kaldur praised in your ear. “ we should keep you around, huh? you want that angel?”

after receiving nothing but whines and moans in response, kaldur canted his hips and ground himself up into you. you shrieked in ecstasy, gushing around both men for the nth time. the only difference however was the feeling of roy pulsing against both you and kaldur.

the latter shifted his attention to the red head, “make them ours roy. cum in–”

your protests cut him off and came in the form of incomprehensible babbles that made it all the more easier to ignore. leaking from his tip, roy thrust inside once more and emptied his load inside you. kaldur was prompted to do the same, biting down on the nape of your neck as he finished off with one final stroke.

even when they pulled out, you still felt filled to the brim. the cum slowly seeping out of you was testament to that feeling. the two men who had just finished rearranging your insides stood over you, looking down at their work. their sexual magnum opus lay on their couch, breathing heavily and still attempting to come down from several orgasms.

kaldur took it upon himself to get you cleaned up and into some fresh clothes while roy returned to smoking his blunt.

“should we drive them home?” he inquired, watching kaldur gently wipe the tears off your face. “or were you serious about keeping them around?”

“have you ever known me to joke about anything, roy?”

chuckling, roy took one final drag from his blunt and proceeded to join them in bed after putting it out. you soon find yourself pressed between their bodies once more. this time it’s in an embrace that warms your aching muscles as you surrender to lethargy.

2023 ©️ all rights reserved by saintblk (me) | do not copy, repost, promote, or translate any of my works without my permission

[simonisferal]

not you again! “scaramouche x male reader”

episode eleven: holy shit, he has a sister? or is that his girlfriend..? 📖

warnings: underage drinking (not too much), vulgar language, y/n is lowkey bisexual, mentions of weed

notes: erhm i was gonna add text and then said “nah” 🤓

1k words

"Come on, Kunikuzushi, answer me." A dull tone, probably from someone 'dear' to him, spoke.

Scaramouche could only grumble at her voice as he drove. His knuckles whiten a bit as he turned the corner on the road. "Ei said I had to bring you."

That was the most he would speak to her but Shogun couldn't help her small amount of curiosity, "To a party?"

"... Yeah. Is that a problem?"

The vehicle grew silent after that and they didn't speak to each other for a while, the car's engine slightly roaring was more than enough sound for the both of them. It was a long drive there, seeing how Ei thought she was so hilarious, decided to drop them both off at the airport and let them go their way. 'Might as well leave us for dead..' he thought.

The girl eventually got tired of looking out the window and mentally criticizing her brother's driving and music choice and she looked over to him. "Whose party?"

Scaramouche doesn't respond in an instant. Instead it takes him a while to bring himself to even speak the guy's name. "You know Venti?"

"Our uncle?"

He cringed to himself. Was he seriously the only one who didn't know they were related? He mutters a small "yeah" before growing silent. Shogun only nods, looking out the window with a bored expression.

"Can we make a pit-stop?"

"Why?"

With a whisper, she responds. "I have to pee."

After Kaeya left you for his boyfriend and Diluc left to entertain guests, Venti found you and just dragged you along around the house. You still didn't really know your way around and the edible Tartaglia gave you was starting to kick. Your feet stumbled over a few people's as the bard treated you like a ragdoll all the way over to the drinks.

"Here we are! The only good reason to ever go to these parties; the snack table." Either Mondstadt paid their teachers really well or the economy is thriving because besides the beautiful house you were in, all you saw were on-brand stuff and potentially expensive bottles of non-alcoholic grape juice. There were cupcakes, seem to be handmade and you honestly question how much a summer program could really mean to these people.

Venti leaned down under the table and pulled your pant leg as a way to hide himself probably. Your focus grew a bit dazed so you didn't care much, just leaning on the table, making it seem like you were just standing there instead of helping cover up someone's potential crime.

He got out from under the table with a cheeky smile and a hand behind his back. You could assume what it was already just by how ecstatic he seemed. "Well, maybe we should go somewhere else…" He leaned in a bit closer, "I can't let anyone know I got the goods."

"Venti."

A stern voice came from behind you two and you felt the braided fellow beside you tense up slightly then go back to his natural, nonchalant attitude. He turned around, bottle still in hand and laughed. "Hey, Mister Diluc! How's it going? Great party, by the way. Me and, uhh Y/N were just going so if you don't mind—" Venti was about to book it but a hand grabbed onto his shoulder. ‘You're fucked’.

Diluc spreads out his other hand, "Hand me the bottle." He seems tired. It's possible Venti has tried doing this before.

"Welp, guess I have no choice…—Y/N! Come on!" He shouts before grabbing your hand and sprinting somewhere, dragging you along again and leaving the teacher shaking his head, disappointed.

"Venti, why didn't you just give him the bottle? You're not even gonna hit four weeks sober." You sigh. ‘What is the thrill of alcohol?‘

It seems he knew what you were thinking and opened the wine bottle. The cork unlatched itself with a pop! and he handed it to you. He blew a raspberry, "It's one of the finest things here." He tapped the bottle against your chest and you could smell the faint scent of berries. "Let Mondstadt have one of your firsts, eh?" He had a small grin and it might've been the lack of self control but you take it.

"If it tastes like ass, I will throw you out the window." Venti ignores your threat as he holds the bottle steady for you. "It won't! Trust me." His face was so easily punchable but he had a way to make you trust him.

You take a small sip, unsure of the liquid sinking into your mouth. It had a sort of sweet taste, something you can't really describe, and the obvious taste of grapes. It wasn't what you expected but it wasn't bad.

"Good, huh?" You ignored him, grabbing the bottle and giving it back to him. You didn't taste anything different compared to a fermented grape juice so your eyes skimmed the label. The label was a purple and silver cover with words: 'Alcoholic grape wine', it read.

"Eh, mid. I've had better."

"Oh, fuck you."

You snicker as Venti pinches your arm, clearly unamused by your comment.

"Hello. Do you guys know where the master bedroom is?"

A girl, around eighteen or nineteen, spoke in an almost dissatisfied tone. She had purple, long hair and a poker face. A mole lit her cheek and she seemed oddly familiar like a childhood friend. You watched Venti, from the corner of your eye, hide the bottle behind his back and smile sheepishly. "It should be just around the corner, on the right…" He said.

She didn't bother giving him a glance, her eyes just staring you down like a predator. It made you uncomfortable but just as you thought that, she maneuvered around you two to—you assume—go to the master bedroom.

"She was…hot."

"—scary. Oh." You ignored Venti's confused look before laughing it off. "Anyways! Now that I've, uhh, had a taste of, you know, Mondstadt, we should uhh… find Kaeya! We can't have him staying with Ajax for too long. Who knows what they might do?"

You, for the first time this night, drag Venti along, hoping to find a way out: both this awkward situation and this house.

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[merakimoonglade]

A Night of Longing and Loneliness, Chapter 3: Elain

Summary: It's been almost a year since the war with Hybern ended and Nesta Archeron distanced herself from her family and the Inner Circle. After they both have rough nights, Elain Archeron and Cassian find themselves alone at the townhouse and bonding over loss and feelings of not quite unrequited love.

3 chapters, 3 POVs: Cassian, Azriel, and Elain.

Chapter: 3 of 3

Excerpt:

Elain feels like she’s breathless spinning across a ballroom, the engraved porcelain dish perched carefully along her forearm as light as a silk glove as she glides through the garden towards a wrought iron table and a large, possibly sleeping Illyrian.

I did it. I put my hand on his and he smiled. How he smiled! If she was alone she would dance around the courtyard. 

Cassian stirs as she rounds the table. His half-closed eyes narrow even more to focus on the dessert. “Let me take that,” he says, his words thick with lethargy. 

There’s a wrenching pain in Elain’s chest as he sets the heavy dish on the table with a delicacy she suspects most wouldn’t believe the Lord of Bloodshed capable of while sober let alone so unabashedly drunk. It’s only the third time she’s seen Cassian truly intoxicated but tonight is by far the worst. She doesn’t fault him though the irony isn’t lost on her. She wishes Azriel arrived home earlier so the brothers could spar like they usually do when one of them needs to empty their mind. It wouldn’t have bothered her if they went to the training pit at the House of Wind without her even though they usually take her along. To see the person you love look so happy to see you then turn and be so deliberately cruel? She hasn’t experienced his exact situation but she’s too familiar with the desire for a reprieve until it feels like the knife is lodged in your stomach instead of your heart.

At least Nesta only appeared somewhat happy to have run into her and only after Elain said she would make her favorite foods if she came to dinner. Now that she has a little distance she sees how she overlooked her sister’s obvious disinterest because she was so excited to see her. Elain only hopes Nesta doesn’t think Cassian was somehow acting on her behalf when they accidentally spotted each other and that was why she lashed out at him. She feels sick each time she thinks about how she might have caused either of them pain.

Cassian snatches a loose piece of the crumble’s topping and winks. “Couldn’t resist,” he says, flashing her his usual cheeky grin.

Elain lightly swats at his hand with the flat side of the serving knife when he goes for one of raspberries dotting the edges of the dish, her attempt at decoration. Though the twins say otherwise she knows she hasn’t mastered the skill of making something simple look as elegant as they do. “You can wait one minute,” she tells him with a laugh. 

Cassian flops back into his chair holding his hands up in mock surrender. 

Cutting into the dessert, Elain hums the song that’s been trapped in her mind the last few months. She heard it as she, Nuala, and Cerridwen walked to the twins’ favorite restaurant, a tiny place just outside the Rainbow. The song was so lovely, so hauntingly romantic Elain had to stop and listen. It was the first time in ages she savored music; she wishes Nesta and Azriel had been there because they would have been enthralled. If only the twins hadn’t hurried her to get a table she would have asked the violinist for the song’s name or if there was sheet music. It made her want to practice the piano, something she hasn’t done since before she became Fae. It made her want to learn violin, then it made her smile when she realized she now had the time to learn anything she wanted. 

Something that feels like sparkling wine bubbles float through Elain as Azriel moves silently behind her. His deep, velvet voice joins her for the next few notes, so low they might be mistaken for the flutter of leaves. The warm scales of his flying leathers brush against her forearm making her skin pebble as he places his plate and the whipped cream on the table. The leathery edge of his wing skims her shoulder when he reaches into the darkness just beyond the faelight and pulls out a carafe of water then three glasses from the shadows. She forgets not to stare when Azriel takes the seat on her left, inching it closer to her before he tightly tucks his considerable wings against his back to slide into the space allotted for them. If he has a choice he always uses the chaise, pulling it next to her at the table. His wings are so big they only fit in the chairs if he holds them close to his body and never relaxes; his muscles always cramp if he sits in them too long. 

Continue on A03. 🌺 Start from the beginning.