#airy bakes

[airyairyaucontraire]

Made a Pullman loaf/pain de mie. Turned out a bit dark, but you can’t keep opening the tin to see the colour. I hope it’s okay inside.

[gmanmedias]

ONE MAN STRATEGY MEETING!

💗 💗 💗

🍀 🍀 🍀

🌷 🌷 🌷

[parveens-kitchen]

Quick and Easy No-Knead Homemade Baguettes

Quick and Easy No-Knead Homemade Baguettes. Embark on a delightful journey to create homemade baguettes in just four hours, with a straightforward recipe using flour, active dried yeast, salt, and water. Achieving a crispy crust and airy interior has never been easier. Ingredients:– 500 grams all-purpose flour– 10 grams salt– 1 packet (7 grams) active dried yeast– 480 ml warm…

[chichirid]

airiena stimboard! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

💝 |💫| ⚡️

💫 |⚡️| 💝

⚡️ |💝|💫

[therecipelibrary]

Airy Nothings

-Modern Home Cook Book and Family Physician 1890s

[animeweeb115]

“It's gotta be a really special cake!”

[januaryembrs]

YOU'RE TOO SWEET FOR ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: @avis-writeshq says -

HELLO HELLO jumping on your 2k celebration reqs because 2K OMG SO DESERVED ‼️🫶

may i perhaps request a spencer reid x fem!reader fic please 🥹 maybe him post prison w new reader and she follows him around everywhere because she’s just instantly enamoured to him 🤭

thank you so so much lovely and congrats again !!!

Description: thirteen years in the fbi and ten weeks in prison does a number on Spencer, only when he arrives back in the office he meets the sunshine rookie that seems rather taken with him.

word length: 2.6k (this really ran away from me)

warnings: post-prison Reid, slightest age gap, Spencer dealing with coming home from prison, gun shooting?

authors note: hozier’s new song 'Too Sweet' + post-prison reid is a need, not a want.

He smelled her french vanilla perfume before he even knew she was there. But then again, it was all he could smell the minute she waltzed into the office with a tray of coffee, like someone had stuck a sweet dessert in the oven and baked it on full. 

“Good morning!” She chirped, winding an arm over his shoulder and setting down a take out cup and a little chocolate donut on his desk, “Pen said you like chocolate, and I mean who doesn’t like chocolate, right?” 

She was potent when she was so close to him, and in one single breath he caught a whiff of her shampoo, before she had flitted over to her side of the desk that sat opposite his, where Morgan once sat. Noticing his hesitance, mistaking it for discontent she paused, almost spilling her own beverage over the potted plant she kept by her keyboard, scrambling to set it on the surface.

“Y-you do like chocolate right? I mean they had strawberry too, I can switch yours with JJ’s, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind-” She splurged, and her face was much too worried considering it was a matter of a donut, particularly considering he was already eying up the way the thick chocolate was melting in the pastry bag.

“Chocolate is great, I love…” He held up the bag to read the label with squinting hazel hues, “Cocoa Caramel delight,”

He had never heard of it.

He had never even seen this brand, but he wanted to quell her nerves even in the slightest. The BAU didn’t have the funds for a new keyboard, let alone time to send her to the ER if she ended up spilling her coffee over her hand. 

She seemed convinced, and he offered her a small smile, not exactly his most enthusiastic, but then again he hadn’t been much of a morning person since he’d come out of prison. He liked quiet, he liked a moment to himself before Penelope called them into the round table for briefing. But she was sweet, too sweet perhaps for the dark nature of their job. 

He could already see it chewing up her perky disposition and spitting her right back out within a year. It happened to the best of them.

But she smiled back at him, a million watt grin that made him think maybe he was being a little cruel. She was still brand new, still trying to make friends and he remembered how hard he tried when it had been his first few weeks on the team. He turned his gaze away from her in shame, reading the way she’d written his name on the cup in a pink sharpie, framing it with two doodle hearts. 

She all but skipped away, sensing he didn’t feel like talking much anymore, and he heard Emily exclaiming she was ‘A caffeine angel sent from the heavens,’ as she handed her the drink. He watched her braided hair disappear down the hall as she bounced over to Penelope’s lair. 

He picked at the cocoa caramel delight with a kind of self loathing he was familiar with, the french vanilla still a saccharine sugar in his nose. 

-

She caught him again; though this time he felt her bristle past his arm, watching the bullets pierce the target paper with an accuracy that only came from fourteen years of practice. 

“Do you reckon you could teach me how to do that?” Her cadence was light and airy, and he had to stop himself from jumping, from slamming the butt of the gun into her nose on reaction, because he knew she meant well, even though she had no idea how damaged he was.

He was still out of sorts from having to look over his shoulder at every second of the day, and he was surprised he was holding it together so far. He supposed shooting the shit out of a target helped.

Because it was just her, looking at him with soft eyes and a smile that could start wars, and he knew she had no idea the effect she had on the walls he’d tried so hard to build in prison. 

She must have mistook his look for annoyance, because she was quick to fumble with her own loaded gun, taking a step back in retreat, worried that she crossed some line she didn’t know he’d drawn.

“Or I could get Luke to show me, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just am really a shit shot and I know that’s pretty useless in the field-” It wasn’t until he flicked the safety on and took a step to follow her did she look at him again hopefully. 

“No, I’d be more than happy to show you,” He cleared his throat, setting his pistol in its holster and stepping behind her as she lined herself up for the fake body meant to resemble an unsub, “We all have to start somewhere. Show me your form,” 

She raised her arms up in front of her, aiming for a few seconds for the spot in the centre of the chest cavity, her finger reaching up for the trigger. 

She shot once, her face hardened for the first time he’d ever seen, and they both watched the paper rip about half a foot down the unsub’s leg. 

“See, in my head it’s hitting dead centre and then by the time I shoot it’s wiggling all over the place,” She explained, scratching her neck and frowning at the paper body, “I don’t suppose unsubs are willing to stand still and wait while the rookie figures out her shot,”

“Your hips are perfect, wide stance means you get more stability against the ricochet,” She tried not to simper at his words, or the way he sidled up behind her, his hands coming up to her shoulders as if he’d known her for years, as if JJ hadn’t told her how much he hated other people’s germs, “It’s in your shoulders you’re losing balance, try relaxing a little,”

But she couldn’t not when he was breathing down her neck, rubbing those long fingers over her shoulder blades trying to get her to straighten out her posture, hoping he couldn’t feel the way her chest rattled with nerves. 

“Relax,” He reminded, trying not to chuckle when he felt her shake her arms out as a means of hiding the way her skin had warmed under his rough touch, “You know, my unit chief taught me how to shoot. I wasn’t at all good at it when I first started,”

“Oh really?” She asked, her breaths feather light as he reached around her and adjusted her grip on the gun, “H-he must have been a good teacher,”

“He was the best,” Spencer agreed, brushing off the fact she was all but putty beneath his hands, “Three steps for the perfect shot; front sight, trigger press, follow through. Always keep your head forward, always keep your dominant finger ready, and wait until you’ve shot to drop your stance,” 

She looked up at him in admiration, and her soft smile was back as his own musk of laundry detergent and chamomile soap encompassed her as his arms did. 

He brought one of those big hands to the back of her head, moving her with gentle ease to look back at the target, a slight chuckle in his voice as he spoke: “Focus, what’s step number one?”

“Front sight,” She echoed him, fixing her shoulders with determination as he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. Taking a deep breath, she murmured to herself under her breath the next step as her forefinger rested over the trigger. She pulled it after a moment of courage, and froze in spot as she watched it hit where the stomach would sit. 

Not a perfect shot, but certainly a lot better than she had been doing. 

Her eyes widened behind the thick protective glasses, and her hands became fists above her head as she squealed in delight. 

“Did you see that- did you see!” She yelled over the sound proof ear muffs they both wore, and he was quick to grab the gun out of her swinging arms, clicking the safety on for her before she could end up blowing a hole in the ceiling. 

“Very good, give it a few months you’ll be a natural,” He complimented with a smile as she clapped her hands in glee, buzzing on the spot as if she’d chugged five energy drinks or doubled up on her coffee for the day. 

He tried ignoring the way his chest warmed seeing her so happy because of him, especially when she looked at him like that. 

--

“You said you needed those files, Dr Reid,” She’d appeared again, like she always did, and he had barely enough time to glance up from the paper he was already inspecting before he was hit by the perfume again, and he looked up to see two bright eyes watching him hopefully. Her arms were piled high with easily a box full of folders he had asked Anderson to find for him, and he saw the way she strained slightly to keep them held tight. 

“Jesus! Let me help you,” She prayed he couldn’t feel the way her heart thumping against the manilla folders as he leaned over to take them out of her grasp, the way her eyes fell to his light smattering of facial hair as his lips were little more than a few inches from hers. Even when his hands brushed hers, and he seemed to realise she was staring, watching her scramble to look somewhere else other than his amused eyes, embarrassed he’d caught her, “Thankyou. And just call me Spencer,” 

“Thankyou,” She echoed, shaking her head with a girlish smile on her face, her cheeks warm with humiliation, “I mean you’re welcome, any time,” 

For the sake of her self preservation he waited until she turned around to smile to himself, pretending he didn’t see the way she muttered under her breath, or that she almost walked straight into the filing cabinet on her hasty exit out of the office. 

“Seems like you have a shadow,” Emily’s voice met him as he heard her heeled footsteps approach, and they both watched their newest team mate almost bump right into JJ as she kept her head down, stroking her hair nervously, “She was super excited to meet you when you were away, said she went to one of your guest lectures you did with Hotch a couple years ago,”

His brows shot into his hairline, something warm flourishing in his chest when he saw her peek back to see the two of them watching her, and she immediately darted for her seat for an excuse to turn her back to them. 

Spencer smiled again, running a hand through his curled locks as if he was trying to think of something else other than the joy that had over come his features. 

She certainly was charming, in an incredibly girlish way, and he wasn’t the only one who thought it. He hadn’t heard Penelope giggling so much since Morgan had left, nor did he miss the way Rossi and Emily watched her darting around in the field, chasing after her as if she needed one of those leashes people had for toddlers.

Or the way Luke had had to talk her out of bringing a stray cat back to the BAU just two days ago because ‘it looked sad and lonely’. 

She was only eight years his junior, and yet he felt like the job had made him too hard, too mature, too tough against a softness like hers.

Girls had never really been interested in him, at least not for him as Spencer Reid, not as SSA Dr Reid. He had the occasional fling, even Maeve in the grand scheme of things had been a budding romance at best, and just the thought of Cat Adams viper-like eyes had him shuddering. 

He barely wanted anything to do with women at the moment, at least that was what he’d told himself every night he’d been fighting for his damn life in prison. 

But it was almost too easy to feel this way about her, like he couldn’t drink in her sweet smell or even sweeter voice fast enough, or bathe in her gaze that melted like rich chocolate when he took a glance her way. 

He didn’t bring it up with her until they were the last few people filing out of the office. 

“I can drive you,” She chirped, almost dropping the contents of her bag everywhere as she rooted for her car keys, and before he could protest, because it was like all he could see now was how eager to be around him she was and he wasn’t too sure he could keep himself from opening pandora’s box, she jingled her keys, that of course had crochet bluebells hanging from them and all but danced past him into the elevator. “Come on, you can have shotgun,” 

“I’ll be the only passenger, doesn’t that mean I automatically have shotgun?” He asked, following behind her as she stood in the elevator with a beaming smile, her finger clicking the ground floor button a bunch of times even though it made no difference how fast the doors closed. 

“Well, yeah, but it’s going to be the best shotgun you’ve ever had. I’m talking you can be Miss Daisy and I’ll be your Morgan Freeman,” And as if her spirit was infectious, he shook his head with a hidden chuckle.

There was a minute of silence between the two as she played with a loose thread on her cardigan, and it was then he took the chance to ask her the question that had been burning on his lips all day. 

“You didn’t by any chance go to University of Pennsylvania, did you?” Spencer asked, noting the way her eyes fell to the floor and how she licked her lips nervously.

“Yeah,” She replied cautiously, fingers clenched tightly around her keyring, “I know it’s not Caltech, but it was pretty good-”

“Didn't you see my lecture with Hotch?” He asked, and his smile widened tenfold when her hands slapped over her cheeks that burned with horror, moving quickly up to cover her eyes, “Little birdy told me you were quite excited to meet me-”

“Oh, Emily,” She groaned, burying her face in her palms, avoiding his teasing expression like the plague, “I knew, I knew she was going to tell you, I’m surprised she didn’t tell JJ first, unless she did and our whole team know I was some crazy girl who liked the FBI agents so much she switched her major,” 

“You switched your major for me?” He asked incredulously and he only laughed harder, one of the first times since he’d come home, when she groaned louder, turning away from him entirely. 

“Shut up, I did not swap my major for you,” She bit back, and she finally met his gaze, her expression an embarrassed wince, “I just… liked the material. You were very compelling,”

“Did you have a poster of us?” Spencer wanted to stop teasing, knew he was being a little cruel, but how could he resist when she shrieked in between laughter, shoving his shoulder with mortification.

“No,”

“Did you kiss Hotch’s picture before bed like an obsessive fangirl?” 

She gestured to him vulgarly as they left the elevator and headed for the car park, and it made a huge difference to the usual adoration she watched him with, but maybe, he thought, it made him like her even more. 

“No more shotgun for you, you’re going in the trunk like an old rug,” She snapped, though he could tell she was still horrified by the way she avoided his delighted hazelnut gaze. 

“Like an old rug?” He feigned hurt, but when they sat in her car, she finally looked over at him with something vulnerable and yet affectionate, like he’d seen her for all she was worth. He reached over the console to squeeze her hand gently, not missing the way her palm clammed beneath his and she struggled for words, so he continued for her, “That’s really no way to talk to your idol, you know,” 

Spencer swore his chest felt lighter than it had in months watching her laugh like that.

[twijfelaar]

People who decide the " how long is prep time" for recipes are full of shit.

[pin-k-ink]

BACK IN THE GAME ⋆✦⋆ hinata shoyo

synopsis ➸ fresh off a trip from brazil, hinata’s crashing at kenma’s place. the last thing he expected? being drawn to his old friend’s daughter

tags ➸ dilf!hinata, dad’s best friend trope (kinda), age gap, sexual tension, hinata and kenma have some tension between them (and it’s not the good kind), sorta ooc hinata, me mentioning his happy trail every five sentences, groping, dry humping, making out, biting, spanking, daddy kink, rough sex, blow job, face fucking, deepthroating/throat bulge, nipple play, fingering, overstimulation, dirty talking, kitchen sex, creampie, unprotected sex, degradation, begging, hair pulling, manhandling

wc ➸ 16.4k 💀

The rhythmic pounding echoed down the hallway, rousing you from your half-doze on the living room couch. You frowned blearily at the Netflix menu awaiting your resumption, ears perking at the unexpected sound of knocking on your front door.

Glancing at the clock, you couldn't help but bristle at the late-night intrusion. Didn't these losers ever just take a hint and leave you alone at this hour? Your dad may have been a famous streamer in his heyday, but that didn't give creeps free rein to wander up to your doorstep at all hours.

"Dad?" you called out in a raised voice to no response. Typical. Kenma slept like the dead most nights these days.

With an aggrieved huff, you snagged your baseball bat leaning against the bookshelf and stomped to the entryway. Through the peephole, the shadowy figure of a sturdily built man loomed close to the door, hand still raised mid-knock.

"Yeah, whaddaya want?" you barked out bluntly before your apprehension could spike any higher.

A brief pause, then a warm, distinctly male chuckle reverberated through the thick wood. "Well now, that's one heck of a way to greet an old friend after all these years! Kenma didn't mention his daughter was so...feisty."

You arched one eyebrow, taking in the rich timbre of his voice - smooth velvet with a hint of rasp that sent an inadvertent shiver tracing down your spine. Repositioning the bat over your shoulder, you pulled open the door to face the mystery man fully for the first time.

And immediately had to tighten your suddenly slack grip on your improvised weapon, lest it go clattering straight to the floor.

This was no vagrant creep or overzealous groupie eyeing you predatorily in the dim lighting. The figure standing there exuded the sort of unbridled masculine charisma that conjured half-baked fantasies about a forbidden tryst with your hot older teacher from high school days. Only...magnified exponentially into the stuff of genuine wet dreams now rendered flesh.

From the tousled carrot-orange thatch to the sculpted musculature rippling beneath his well-worn shirt with every subtle shift, this man was the literal embodiment of tall-dark-and-smoldering personified. And those eyes - vibrant pools of rich amber that seemed to gleam with unbridled mischief even surrounded by the crows-feet and laughter lines of someone clearly on the wiser side of his prime.

You swallowed hard against the sudden dryness coating the back of your throat despite your best efforts. Forcing a disaffected look to the contrary, you shrugged carelessly and made a point of raking an appreciative once-over up and down his form as blatantly as possible.

"Yeesh, you sure this is the right house, old man?" you drawled, deliberately pitching your tone into a low lilt that never failed to rile up horny douchebags in the past. "Because if you were looking for a hookup with a hot young thing like me tonight, we both know you're seriously barking up the wrong tree, Daddy."

Rather than look suitably shocked or affronted by your veiled taunts, the rugged older man simply chuckled again - a rough, airy sound that raised goosebumps anew along your arms in a way that set your nerves thrilling dangerously. Those striking amber eyes positively gleamed beneath hooded lids as he regarded you with an inscrutable expression.

"I always forget how spirited Kenma's little girl grew up being," he mused, the low rumble vibrating straight through you. "But I promise you this - your old Uncle Shoyo would never disrespect you like that if he was looking for a good time tonight."

At those words uttered so casually, your breath stuttered dangerously in your lungs as the ground seemed to shift sideways all of a sudden. Jaw plummeting slack, you gawped at this stranger in your doorway with fresh awareness dawning.

"Uncle...Shoyo?" you echoed dumbly. Like the legendary Monster Generation volleyball star that your dad occasionally reminisced about in his youth? That Uncle Shoyo?

The man's bright smile widened to boyish degrees crinkles radiating outwards from the corners of those molten amber eyes that still somehow managed to glitter with devilish hints despite his mature age. "The one and only! Though I guess it would be more accurate to call me Uncle Hinata these days, now that I'm an old geezer in your eyes."

Before you could summon any further response, another rich baritone voice echoed from somewhere deeper in the apartment. "Shoyo? That really you?"

You pivoted instinctively with your jaw still hanging slack as the familiar silhouette of your father appeared around the hall corner - all tousled bedhead and barely-contained excitement shining from his pale amber gaze now.

"Kenma! It's me alright, just like I promised," Uncle Hinata—Hinata exclaimed, already ambling forward to enfold your dad in a tight embrace. "Brazil hasn't changed a thing, buddy. Still somehow managed to grow taller than you even after all these years."

"Oh please," your dad retorted without any real heat, hugging his apparent childhood friend in turn. "Says the guy who spent a whole decade getting brain damage in the sand just so he could keep jumping a few inches higher until retiring."

The two men - former athletic rivals turned coworkers turned...whatever their bond was nowadays - shared a laugh you felt utterly excluded from. In that suspended heartbeat, you couldn't help but rake your eyes over Hinata's tall, rangy frame once more in renewed scrutiny.

Somehow the man beamed with youthful vibrancy and rakish appeal you'd assumed impossible for someone your dad's age and station in life - everything from that windswept tousle of sunset hair to the laidback charisma radiating from his very pores like some eternal beach spirit entranced you dangerously.

"So you're really him...?" you murmured once your mental faculties finally rebooted with a jolt. "The infamous Ninja Shoyo that Dad never shuts up about?"

A strange mixture of relief and renewed intrigue flickered across Hinata's striking features as his molten gaze returned to you - flicking up and down your frame with unabashed appraisal that made you straighten self-consciously.

"That's me..." he drawled in that low, smoky timbre that plucked straight at something deep in your feminine hindbrain. "Though nobody has called me that kinda name in years now, [Y/N]. Hard to be a ninja master when the rest of the world grows up faster than you do..."

At the playful self-deprecation, his eyes crinkled in that way that did utterly sinful things to your rapidly pounding pulse you refused to examine too closely. You forced a scoffing sound, jutting one hip out in an artless sprawl you hoped came across as aloof rather than captivated.

"Well you sure made one hell of an entrance tonight for being a 'retired old geezer,'" you couldn't resist taunting, relishing in the way his intense amber stare remained riveted to you as the faintest curl teased the corner of that full, expressive mouth.

"I just don't see what the big fuss was about if you were really such hot stuff back then," you drawled, deliberately dipping into that same honeyed lilt that had always been Kryptonite for cocky douchebags in your vicinity before. "But then again...maybe you are a different breed afterall, Uncle Shoyo..."

You held Hinata's gaze steadily, refusing to falter beneath the renewed heat you could have sworn flared behind those penetrating eyes as your meaning registered with naked clarity in the space between you. Your heart hammered a wild, furious tattoo against your ribcage that you couldn't quite place or dismiss the implications of just yet.

All you knew in that suspended breath of charged silence was that no matter how or why, this particular worldly older man - one you expected you should still view in some detached, innocuous uncle-figure capacity - had effortlessly sideswiped your flustered wits and begged exploration of places you could never revisit unscathed again.

The tension only mounted as you hastily retreated to the kitchen, mind whirling while you prepared a tray of tea with shaky hands. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the burn of Hinata's lingering stare nor the visceral lure of his powerfully-built frame.

Unseemly thoughts crept in of how those strong hands might feel on your body - calloused palms mapping every dip and curve with rough insistence as he crowded you against the nearest surface. You bit your lip hard, imagining the scrape of his stubbled jaw branding your fevered skin while pinning you in place with that intense smolder alone.

By the time the tea finished steeping, you grabbed the tray and took a fortifying breath before heading back to the living room. Uncle Shoyo and your dad were settled on the couch, deep in familiar conversation that felt almost jarring in its animation compared to Kenma's usual reservation.

You hung back for a moment, surreptitiously drinking in the sight of the older Hinata with fresh, unfettered appreciation. The sleeves of his t-shirt clung to every flexing cord of muscle in his biceps and forearms with each emphatic gesture, straining in a way you refused to find tantalizing.

More distracting still was the fabric pulled taut across the defined ridges and hard planes of his abdomen - clearly outlining the intriguing trail of auburn hair disappearing into the snug waistband of his pants. You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming as you watched that obscenely fit torso undulate and stretch with every deep inhale and rich laugh rumbled free.

"Oh [Y/N], there you are," your dad's voice rang out abruptly, startling you. He frowned slightly, eyes narrowing as his gaze swept over your flustered expression. "Everything okay there? You look a little...feverish."

Heat flooded your cheeks as Hinata turned those scorching amber eyes towards you once more, shameless interest glinting from their depths. His stare raked over your form in a lingering, unabashed appraisal that made you want to squirm like a prize heifer on display.

"Hmm, you might be onto something there, Kenma," Hinata drawled in that low, rumbling timbre that sent tingles dancing down your spine. "She did look maybe a little worked up about something when she came back just now..."

"Uncle Shoyo!" you sputtered despite yourself, outrage burning away any lingering embarrassment. "I'm perfectly fine, thanks for your concern."

Kenma continued scrutinizing you with that canny, assessing look he always wore when suspecting you were up to no good. You jutted your chin up stubbornly, meeting his stony gaze in wordless challenge until Hinata chuckled softly.

"Hey now, no need to get so riled up right off the bat!" he interjected placatingly, hands raised in mock surrender. "I was just messing around, [Y/N]. We're all friends here, right?"

You opened your mouth to retort, but faltered at the heated undertone of his words and the sly wink accompanying them. Kenma scoffed loudly then, scowl deepening as his focus swiveled to pin Hinata with an exasperated glare that promised retribution.

"Don't even try it, old man," your dad growled with an almost protective edge. "My daughter isn't one of those groupies constantly throwing themselves at your feet back in Rio, understand?"

Hinata laughed again, completely unbothered as he angled that hulking frame forward. His shirt rode up obscenely, revealing a tantalizing strip of tanned, toned abdomen you couldn't seem to tear your eyes away from despite your best efforts.

"Easy, Kenma!" Hinata rumbled, lush lips curved in a wicked grin that promised sweet sin. "I think it goes without saying that [Y/N] here is way out of an old beach bum's league. Was just messing around is all..."

He trailed off then, once more dragging his blatant perusal up the length of your body with liquid heat in his smoldering stare. You clenched your thighs instinctively, desire and outrage warring as your teeth dug into your lower lip to stifle any reactions.

The next few moments seemed to stretch into a thick, electrically-charged silence. You, your father, and Hinata simply regarding one another - the weight of unspoken tension and challenge thrumming through the air with every weighted pause. Until finally, you broke it by clearing your throat and stepping forward.

"Well, I brought the tea you wanted," you announced airily, like nothing untoward had just happened. "Then I'll be going to my room if you two want to keep reminiscing about the good old days."

"[Y/N]..." your dad started in a tone of clear warning, eyes narrowing as you stepped past their tangle of limbs on the couch to set the tray on the coffee table.

"Don't worry about it," Hinata interjected smoothly, rising to his towering height with languid, boneless grace you tried not to notice. "Your old Uncle Shoyo is probably overstaying his welcome as it is tonight."

He cast you one final, heated look from beneath lowered lashes, expression utterly inscrutable beyond the banked hunger simmering there. Then without another word, he turned and prowled towards the guest bedroom in a loose-limbed lope you tried desperately not to track too closely.

Only once his broad, muscular back disappeared from view did you let out a shaky breath. Kenma remained seated on the couch, radiating a silent but palpable displeasure and glaring accusation you refused to acknowledge directly.

So instead, you strode forward and leaned down to press a chaste peck to his cheek while avoiding eye contact entirely. "Goodnight, Dad. I'll see you in the morning."

Then before he could respond or break the tension hanging thick in the air, you spun on your heel and hurried to the sanctuary of your bedroom - every molecule buzzing with the unsettled aftershocks of Hinata's disarming presence so near.

Because as much as you tried to deny or bury it, his raw masculine vitality and promise of unshackled experience called to you on a primal, instinctual level. Echoing through your thundering pulse in a siren song of temptation you knew could only lead to utter ruination in its wake if you let your guard down...but that seemed increasingly inevitable with each passing second.

The next morning, you shuffled out of your bedroom in rumpled pajamas and messy bedhead, stifling a yawn. The memory of Hinata's unexpected arrival had already begun to fade into a vivid but surreal blur against the slate of your drowsy morning routine.

At least, until you rounded the corner into the kitchen and pulled up short with a sharp inhale. There stood the man himself - tall, broad-shouldered, and utterly shirtless, giving you an unobstructed view of his chiseled back flexing as he rummaged through your cabinets.

You felt your mouth go abruptly dry, gaze riveted to the tantalizing vee of muscle trailing down from his sculpted shoulders, dipping into the waistband of those low-slung sweatpants hugging his hips enticingly. Each subtle shift and roll of his powerful frame drew your hungry stare, unable to look away.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Hinata rumbled without turning around, as if sensing your presence instinctively. "Your dad said he had some company stuff to deal with early, so he stuck me with babysitting duty for now."

You blinked dazedly for a beat, still struggling to reconcile this morning vision of masculine glory before you. The crisp auburn hair tousled by sleep, the enticing glide of defined musculature shifting beneath tanned skin, the shameless confidence radiating off him in delicious waves...

Clearing your throat, you finally managed to find your voice around the lump of arousal lodged there. "I hardly need a babysitter, old man," you drawled in what you hoped sounded nonchalant. "Especially not from family friends who look closer to collecting social security than—"

Hinata finally turned then, bracing one hip against the counter and propping his arms behind him as those molten amber eyes swept over your body from head to toe in a single scorching appraisal. Your breath hitched at the lingering heat dripping off the heated rumble of his next words.

"Watch that smart mouth of yours before it really does get you into trouble, sweetheart," he crooned, lips curved into a wicked smirk that bordered on indecent promise. "You really think your dad asked me to stick around and play nice this morning?"

Despite your best efforts, your traitorous gaze couldn't help but skate over every taut line and definition of his exposed torso shamelessly. The crisp trail of auburn hair disappearing beneath those sweatpants seemed like an insistent beacon, taunting your curiosity.

Clearing your throat again, you forced your attention to the half-chopped produce on the kitchen island. With slightly shaky movements, you grabbed a knife and began working on the remaining ingredients to distract yourself from the living sexual fantasy just a few feet away.

"Well considering he pays the bills around here," you tossed out as breezily as possible, still not meeting Uncle Shoyo's stare directly. "I think it's pretty safe to assume your role this morning is closer to the 'creepy uncle nobody likes' end of the spectrum."

A low chuckle reverberated through the open kitchen, low and syrupy in a way that made your heart stutter. You risked a glance over to find Hinata's eyes utterly fixated on you now – devouring your every move as you brandished the sharp knife with utterly rapt interest.

"Whatever you say, pumpkin," he purred, shifting his stance subtly to cross one sinewy arm over his abdomen in a way that made all those flexing ridges pop in sinful definition. "But I gotta warn you, your little jabs don't exactly have the effect you think on me..."

Your mouth went bone dry once more as he raked that brazen stare over your sleep-tousled bedhead next, unruly mop and all. Then those full lips quirked in a way that made you want to simultaneously combust and punch him right in that shameless mouth.

"In fact, they kinda just make me want to bend you over this counter and teach you some proper manners until you're begging for mercy all night, sweetheart."

You almost missed the suggestive lilt at the end, abruptly choking as his words slammed into you like a physical force. The knife slipped in your grip slicing neatly into your thumb as a startled yelp punched its way free.

"Shit!" you hissed, sucking the shallow graze instinctively only to see a few glistening beads of crimson well forth.

"Whoa there, easy!" Suddenly Hinata was crowding into your space without any warning, large hand closing over yours to inspect the damage with surprising tenderness. "Let me take a look at that, [Y/N]."

Before you could respond, Hinata's hand was coaxing yours up towards those full lips with intent simmering in those hooded embers. You watched in stunned silence as his tongue darted out to swipe over the tiny wound in one long, heated glide—only to suck your thumb directly into the wet heat of his mouth with a low groan of apparent satisfaction.

Every muscle in your body instantly seized up at the erotic massage of his tongue swirling deliberately around the pad in a sensual slide. Watching those sharp cheekbones hollow with each languid pull, you felt the throb between your legs intensify to an almost painful ache of pure, thwarted need. But you seemed incapable of looking away, utterly transfixed.

Uncle Shoyo maintained searing eye contact as his dexterous tongue swiped over every nuance of your thumb with devoted reverence, chasing every copper tinge hungrily. Then with one final swirl that made you stifle a desperate whimper, he slowly released the digit from captivity with a harsh exhale – eyeing your swollen lips with naked hunger as a slick trail of saliva clung between you in an obscene string.

"Be careful now, beautiful," he rumbled in that deep, gravelly timbre that sank talons into your very core. His gaze scorched over your body once more as he stepped back slowly and ambled back towards the exit without a backwards glance. "I'd hate to have to really punish you next time if you keep taunting me like this..."

Then he was gone, leaving you standing there bereft and throbbing deliriously with frustrated longing in the empty kitchen. Because you knew deep down the provocative Uncle had just issued point-blank challenge and promise: that this was only the opening gambit in his heated pursuit, and he had zero intentions of backing down until you'd been claimed utterly.

Unable to resist any longer, you slumped back against the counter on trembling legs and slid one hand between your thighs with a desperate keen – already picturing Hinata's smoldering mug as you sought frantic release in his smoldering wake. Because despite your best efforts, you were now officially hooked on indulging in the forbidden byproducts of his unshackled virility – no matter how dangerous or ruinous the ultimate destination...

You barely made it back to your bedroom before collapsing against the door, legs trembling violently as the aftershocks of Uncle Shoyo's brazen stunt continued ricocheting through your veins. A whimper punched free as your thighs clenched instinctively, the memory of his ravenous stare haunting you as he slowly, purposefully released your thumb from captivity.

Heat coiled molten and liquid in your belly as you palmed your breasts roughly through the thin cotton tanks, thumbing over rapidly pebbling nipples. Squeezing your eyes shut, you could practically feel Hinata's searing presence looming over you once more - massive palms engulfing your curves as his calloused fingertips teased sensitive flesh with maddening patience...

Before you could surrender fully to fantasy's sweet oblivion, however, a strange urge gripped you. Almost frantic, you shed your rumpled pajamas and quickly rushed to the shower to freshen up before you busied yourself rummaging through your dresser and closet for a fresh dress to change into. You needed to get out of this house, away from the lingering fog of temptation still swirling thick and cloying after such an intimate morning encounter. At least for a little while...

Finally settling on a soft, breezy yellow sundress, you slipped it on hastily and attempted to secure the back tie yourself. But after several frustrating attempts, you realized with an inward groan that the ribbons were too tangled.

"Dammit..." you huffed under your breath, smoothing the front over your hips with rigid motions. You swept your gaze towards the vanity mirror, preparing to just gather your hair over one shoulder and let it hang for now.

The delicious expanse of tanned skin and flexing muscle that greeted you instead nearly sent you crashing to your knees with a dismayed cry.

There, leaning one broad shoulder against the doorframe and utterly at ease, stood Shoyo in nothing but those obscenely slung sweatpants riding sinfully low on his chiseled hips. Streaks of early morning sunlight gilded every defined ridge and hollow of his upper body in buttery warmth, licking over flaring biceps and the mouthwatering trail of auburn hair trailing temptingly beneath the loose waistband.

"You look like you could use a hand there," Hinata rumbled in that smoky baritone you were quickly growing addicted to hearing. Those molten eyes found yours in the mirror with delicious weight, smoldering openly now rather than even attempting to conceal the naked provocation simmering behind his heavy-lidded stare.

Despite the sudden lurch of panic kicking your heart into overdrive, you couldn't quite seem to tear your gaze from his inviting reflection hovering behind you. Drinking in the indolent sprawl of that powerful frame radiating unchecked masculinity and quiet dominion - like a supreme hunter casually awaiting its hapless prey's next stumbling move on instinct.

You swallowed hard but held his smoldering stare steadily, refusing to falter or acknowledge the way your nipples tightened beneath the silken fabric. Despite having watched on breathlessly while Hinata lapped at your thumb, relishing the debauched slide of his tongue over your heated flesh...something about his supreme confidence sprawled behind you now made it abundantly clear he could and would ruin any last vestiges of innocence left within you given half a chance.

"Just stay right there and let me get that for you, babygirl," Hinata purred in a low rasp that raised goosebumps rippling over your exposed arms and back.

Before you could so much as open your mouth to respond, he was slinking closer with that same predatory, liquid grace you'd witnessed in glimpses during the party last night. The air around you seemed to crackle and sing with electricity, only mounting higher as Shoyo's physical presence blotted out every other consideration entirely.

You held yourself utterly still as those large, calloused palms seared lines of blissful rapture wherever they grazed over your shoulders and waist from behind. Hinata deliberately braced one broad palm across your abdomen, exerting the barest hint of insistent pressure to pull your curves flush against his powerful torso in a silken slide you felt all the way to your molten core.

"You smell..." he growled thickly by your ear, breath fanning hot and teasing over the racing pulse in your throat as his free hand set about loosening the tangled ties at your back. "...like temptation itself, you naughty little thing..."

A piteous keen slipped free as Hinata's questing fingers completed their task, leaving the ribbons hanging undone as his palms skated back up to clasp your hips in a punishing, possessive vise. Those scorching pads scorched searing brands over the indentations of your hips, pulling you even harder against the intractable ridge of his cock notching between your trembling thighs in a single, uncompromising move.

Your lashes fluttered as the delicious pressure radiated white hot sparks dancing across your vision, mouth falling open around a shuddering exhale of helpless rapture. In the mirror, Hinata's eyes found yours swimming with naked hunger – the simmering embers of whatever tinder sparked between you last night rendered a roaring furnace in the wake of this morning's torrid duel.

"You gonna keep tempting me like this, pretty girl?" Hinata husked in a gravelly rasp dripping with promise and lingering challenge. "Or do you finally have the good sense to run now before you really earn yourself that punishment you've been courting so hard after...?"

With one final squeeze of warning that made your core spasm with empty ache, he slowly eased away and turned to saunter out of the bedroom without another word. You watched him retreat through the mirror's unforgiving reflection - powerless to do anything but gape and tremble wretchedly as the fog of his surroundings presence dissipated incrementally.

Yet this time, rather than any shaky sense of relief, you found your chest heaving with frustrated desperation and need. Because thanks to Uncle Shoyo's heated morning indulgence, you discovered an agonizing new truth:

You didn't just crave sampling the forbidden delights of his singular experience unfolding before you.

No, you utterly ached to immolate yourself completely in the smoldering rapture only he could bestow through sweet, rapturous ecstasy....or hellfire oblivion – so long as you drifted within orbit of his radiant intensity from this moment onward.

Some time later, you finally emerged from your bedroom in a dazed stupor - only to very nearly collide with your father striding up the main hallway towards you. Kenma pulled up short with a frown tugging at his features as his assessing gaze raked over your flushed, tousled state, and the frown deepened pointedly.

"Everything okay, [Y/N]?" he asked in that careful deadpan you knew meant a veiled accusation lurked beneath.

You shook your head in a vain attempt to clear the lingering afterglow clinging from your encounter with Hinata, tugging at the hem of your sundress self-consciously. "Of course, why wouldn't it be? I was just getting ready to go grab some fresh air—"

"Ah." The single syllable came clipped and flat from your father's otherwise impassive expression.

Several fraught heartbeats ticked by in heavy silence before Kenma shifted forward – not quite blocking your path, but radiating an undeniable command for your full, tempered attention nonetheless.

"Going somewhere with my old friend in tow, I take it?" His assessing stare remained level and unreadable save for the undercurrent of warning you recognized all too viscerally from childhood. "I thought we might have a... discussion about setting some ground rules first concerning his company here, [Y/N]."

Despite your frustration spiking anew at his paternal insinuations, you felt a hot flush of shame creeping up your throat. Try as you might, you couldn't meet your father's gaze directly as your mind flashed back in vivid relief to the exhilarating yet illicit thrill of Shoyo's sheer presence looming over you just minutes ago.

Seeming to sense your lack of response, Kenma finally allowed the first cracks to shudder across his typically stoic facade with a weary sigh.

"Look, ...your Uncle Shoyo might still joke and carry that same sunshine-kid energy as back then," he started evenly. "But the reality is he's still a grown man now, with...certain appetites and lack of restraint Hinata's always struggled with at times."

He paused to pin you with a searching, almost beseeching look that somehow made you feel even smaller and more transparent in his presence.

"I'm not saying to stay away from him entirely while he's staying here," Kenma went on more softly. "I remember how much you adored him back when you were little, and that bond means the world to him still."

He shifted closer then, reaching out to brush your disheveled hair aside with a tender yet firm touch that compelled your chin upwards instinctively.

"But I need you to understand that regardless of your...curiosities, your Uncle Shoyo inhabits a vastly different world of adult experience than anything you've had yet, sweetheart. One wrong seed planted could veer things down a dangerous path leading to hurt for everyone."

You shivered despite the gentle warmth and fondness radiating from your father in that infinitely precious moment. Because you recognized the stark sincerity behind his warning, and couldn't necessarily refute its validity after staring down the ravenous, unshackled hunger radiating from Uncle Shoyo's very presence earlier.

Still, even as you nodded mutely in acquiescence, a reckless splinter of thrill lanced through your core. Because now, having glimpsed the erotically-charged path being laid out before you both, you felt all the more determined to keep tumbling headlong and heedless into whatever deliciously ruinous aftermath awaited. No matter the cost or lasting implications...

The sudden, unexpected warmth of Kenma's hand cradling your cheek brought your awareness spiraling back sharply. Before you could quite process what was happening, he'd leaned down and pressed the softest, sweetest kiss against your forehead – just above the crease between your brows.

"Be smart, [Y/N]," he murmured gruffly against your hairline, eyes shining with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "And be back before curfew tonight too, you hear me? No exceptions this time."

Then he was brushing past you towards the front door, thick quiet settling in his wake like physical fog as you remained rooted to the spot. Utterly reeling between the rapidly conflicting currents of exhilarating temptation...and warning stark enough to make even your rebellious core quake in trepidation despite your best efforts otherwise.

You spent the day out with your friends, attempting and mostly failing to clear your head of the heated memories from this morning's encounter with Hinata. No matter where you went or what activity you immersed yourself in, phantom wisps of his smoky presence and provocative words lingered like an intoxicating fog.

On one hand, the lively chatter and antics provided a much-needed distraction from replaying his heated bedroom encounter over and over.

But on the other, your mind seemed to grind to a screeching halt anytime the conversation veered towards your houseguest's identity. Which, given how famous Shoyo Hinata remained in sporting circles thanks to his legendary athletic career, happened far more frequently than you were prepared for.

"Wait, wait...are you seriously telling me the Ninja Shoyo himself is crashing at your place right now?!" Mari, your most relentlessly thirsty friend, practically screeched after some sly prompting from the others.

You shot her a withering glare and mouthed for her to shut up even as the rest of the group devolved into giggles and raucous speculation over whether the confirmed bachelor was as virile and charismatic in-person as rumored.

"Oh come on, [Y/N]!" Aiko wheedled between bites of her burger, dark eyes gleaming mischievously. "You can't just dangle that kind of forbidden fruit in front of us and not expect us to beg for the details!"

Chewing your lip in embarrassed silence, you tried to tune out the rising din of increasingly risqué jokes and pleas to get them invited over for an audience with the legendary Hinata Shoyo. Phantom echoes of his deep, smoky rumble and intoxicating scent seemed to cling to the edges of your consciousness no matter how hard you tried shoving them away.

"At least get us a signed photo if you end up too chicken to let us meet him in person, you miserly brat!" Mari tacked on with a mock glare. "That'll be the closest I ever get to seeing total sex-on-legs unless I end up a cougar!"

Their laughter rolled on undeterred as you hunched further over your meal, cheeks burning and belly clenching with resurgent heat that had nothing to do with the food. Squeezing your thighs together surreptitiously only offered a momentary respite from the low, pulsing ache - one you tried studiously ignoring as well.

"Look, are you all done gawking and gossiping like vultures?" you sighed in fond resignation. "Because let's just say that if you met him properly, you'd realize my uncle is way out of all your horny little leagues..."

A fresh wave of cackling and raucous giggling met your faux-dismissive quip, spurring you to stand and begin making your excuses for the evening. Because despite your best efforts, you could already feel that reckless splinter of need and anticipation resurfacing in your gut at the prospect of returning home to your father...and his houseguest.

So you deflected the suggestive teasing and crude demands to invite Shoyo out properly, firmly refusing to think too hard on why the thought of sharing any part of Shoyo gave you pause. On some deep, instinctual level, you were rapidly becoming consumed by the urge to keep his unbound presence all to yourself from this point on out. Regardless of innocence or ruination that inevitably awaited in his merciless wake.

By the time you reached your neighborhood streets, the crisp night air helped settle your determination somewhat. One last chance to sidestep and avoid tumbling any further down whatever rabbit hole of depravity Hinata seemed intent on leading you both...

But then your apartment building's modest facade loomed into view with the lights still glowing in the windows, and you felt a strange gravitational lurch in your core. Like being reeled inexorably back towards the inescapable flames of illicit temptation despite your best efforts otherwise.

When you reached the front door and paused to let your pulse steady, the subdued sounds of a movie playing somewhere within gave you momentary pause. Maybe your dad was simply unwinding alone – granting you an opportunity to slip inside unnoticed and steer clear of potential pitfalls for tonight at least?

Only as your hand closed over the knob and you pushed the door open a crack, the rich timbre of Hinata's voice reached your ears – gruff and unmistakable in the entryway's dimness.

"Well well, look who finally decided to come back!" he called out in mocking tones. "Your poor old uncle was starting to think maybe you'd slunk off for greener pastures tonight after our fun little morning together earlier."

You froze in place with your heart abruptly lodged in your throat, berating yourself for not simply fleeing in the opposite direction while you still had the chance. But like a moth drawn to flame, you found yourself drifting further inside until the living room came into view.

There sat Shoyo, lounging at ease on the middle sofa cushion with one powerful arm slung along the backrest in apparent comfort. Weirdly, a blanket was draped across his lap – though you found your gaze drifting over the exposed vee of his shirt and every flexing cord of that tanned bicep with reflexive hunger before you wrestled your focus away again.

But it was the other person sitting opposite that really made your heart plummet into your stomach with dread. Your dad, Kenma, sat slouched in his usual armchair – dark eyes trained on the television with characteristic stoicism as he took in whatever movie was playing.

"Evening, [Y/N]," he spoke up evenly without glancing over. "Good timing – Shoyo and I were actually just thinking about putting on another film if you're interested in joining us?"

You opened your mouth, mind racing as you sought some reasonable excuse to demure and retreat to the safety of your bedroom. But before you could formulate a single syllable, Hinata had straightened upright on the sofa and fixed you with those smoldering amber eyes burning through the dimness.

"Actually, you know what?" he rumbled in that gravelly baritone that made your thighs clench reflexively. "I had something better in mind than another boring flick..."

Despite your sinking feeling worsening by the second, you watched helplessly as Uncle Shoyo rearranged the blanket pooled across his lap...then patted the cushion beside him in an exaggerated motion that would've been comically exaggerated in any other circumstance.

"Why don't you bring that cute little butt of yours over here and make yourself comfy next to your favorite uncle for this next one, hmm?" he purred, not even trying to disguise the open insolence and provocation dripping from his every word. "We can kick back...you can cozy up right here where I can keep an eye on you staying out of trouble like a good girl..."

The blatant, unrepentant innuendo left zero ambiguity over his true intentions. Despite your best efforts to shore up your beleaguered senses, you felt your face flushing hotly and palms growing damp with visceral thrill racing in your veins. Because no matter how stern your father's earlier warnings had been...this was Uncle Shoyo boldly commencing his dogged pursuit anew right out in the open.

You shifted uncertainly on your feet for a moment, caught between Shoyo's provocative invitation and the mounting tension radiating off your dad beside him. The living room suddenly felt unbearably charged, rife with unspoken challenges and wordless dares testing the fraying threads of propriety permeating the air.

Just as you opened your mouth, still grasping for some semblance of stable footing, Kenma's measured baritone cut through the hush with deceptive mildness.

"Actually, [Y/N], why don't you go ahead and get changed into something more comfortable first?" he suggested without tearing his gaze from the television screen. "No sense being all dressed up if we're just lounging around and catching up on crappy movies together."

The pointed emphasis on that last part hinted at unspoken layers simmering just beneath the surface of your dad's composed demeanor. You darted a fraught look between both men, but Kenma steadfastly refused to meet your gaze while Hinata...

Well, Hinata simply sat back with that same searing intensity blazing from his heavy-lidded eyes, lips quirked in the barest hint of a self-satisfied smirk you already recognized meant danger. Despite the veneer of this wholesome father-daughter scene being painted before you, the undeniable insinuation of his unabashed perusal made you clench your thighs together instinctively.

"You heard the man," he rumbled, syrupy timbre dripping with implicit promise. Uncle Shoyo's tongue dragged over his lower lip with exquisite leisure, drawing your rapt focus there like a moth to flame. "Don't keep your favorite uncle waiting too long now, sweet girl..."

Kenma shifted infinitesimally then, casting a weighted look of silent warning in Hinata's direction before your dad finally relented and turned towards you fully. Despite the careful blankness written over his features, something simmered and roiled in those pale, flinty depths when he held your gaze with quiet gravity.

"Take your time," was all he murmured with clear emphasis, expression giving nothing away.

You felt distinctly as if you were being weighed and measured against forces rapidly spiraling beyond your ability to anticipate or control. Despite the mounting vertigo gripping your senses, leaving you adrift, a spark of reckless determination lanced through the fog.

With a tight nod, you drew a fortifying breath and spun on your heel without a backwards glance – stoically ignoring the heated undercurrents still crackling along your exposed nape from Hinata's ravenous scrutiny. This morning may have shattered the last vestiges of innocence ushering you along a dangerous precipice with Hinata...

But tonight, some primal instinct whispered darkly, tonight you were well and truly teetering upon that razor's edge with nowhere to go but fully losing yourself to the sweet, ruinous oblivion now inevitable on the other side.

The rote motions of changing into a loose cotton sleep set blurred into a trance-like haze as you moved through your bedroom mechanically. Every nerve was hyper-tuned for more veiled warnings, another blazing gauntlet thrown down anew to tempt or dismay you from your unraveling trajectory.

But deep down, you understood the futility in feigning obliviousness any longer. Not after Hinata had plunged you into the rapturous crucible with his touch, his taste, his ravenous gaze marking you in a way that could never be unmade or forgotten henceforth.

All that remained was answering the final summons echoing amidst your thundering pulse with honesty...and letting the aftermath of indulgence or consequences tear you both asunder into oblivion if need be.

So when you re-emerged from your bedroom in a fresh white ribbed tanks clinging to your curves and miniscule sleep shorts leaving little to imagination, you met Shoyo's searing amber stare levelly. His broad chest expanded fractionally around a harsh inhale, swirling embers of naked desire and insatiable longing burning behind those hooded eyes clear as day.

Even as you made your way closer, edging around the coffee table until within arm's reach of the back of the sofa where he reclined awaiting you, you refused to falter. The indolent sprawl of Hinata's powerful, chiseled form seemed utterly at odds with the palpable, carnivorous threat radiating off him now in molten waves.

You paused there, petrified beneath that searing, loaded stare raking over every bare inch of your silhouette without a shred of shame or restraint. After several suspended heartbeats dripping with escalating tension, Uncle Shoyo shifted imperceptibly. His free hand dragging the blanket aside to reveal bunched sweatpants and a blatantly obscene tenting of the fabric that made your mouth go bone dry around a whimper.

"That'll do just fine," he rasped in a guttural rasp that sent a frisson of electric heat spearing between your clenching thighs. One calloused fingertip crooked lazily, beckoning you closer with arrogant expectation gleaming from his heavy-lidded gaze. "Now get that sweet ass over here where I can keep you close and out've trouble beside me, pretty girl..."

Twin jolts of panic and exhilarating arousal lanced through you simultaneously at the naked provocation. Because even filtered through the dim lighting, you glimpsed the engorged shape promised beneath the thin material and knew without doubt what sort of wanton claiming Uncle Shoyo had in mind for you tonight.

Yet despite the adrenaline screaming through every cell, fueling your instinctive urge to flee, you felt an even deeper, more primal compulsion tugging you inexorably forward until your senses were bathed in his smoky, alluring presence. Hinata radiated unshakable dominion and leashed force, even slouched indolently before you like a serpent coiled to strike at any moment.

"Sho..."

The single hoarse syllable of warning hissed from behind made you flinch despite yourself. You whipped your head to find Kenma staring at the both of you with a stern, paternal gaze - everything about his rigid posture radiating the quiet yet firm protectiveness you recognized so viscerally.

Rather than match your father's intensity head-on, however, Hinata simply exhaled a low chuckle that seemed to reverberate through the charged space between you in a delicious rasp. You watched, utterly transfixed, as he straightened up and shifted the blanket aside in one fluid movement.

"Easy there, Kenma," he rumbled with that infuriatingly roguish half-smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "You know me better than that. I'm not about to go tarnishing this homecoming and ruin my chances at more of your lovely daughter's..." His gaze raked over you with blatant heat. "...delightful company while I'm in town."

Despite the distinctly provocative undercurrent still simmering in his tone, Hinata seemed to deliberately soften the edges in a show of placation towards your father. You felt the simmering tension ebbing incrementally even as fresh exasperation flickered behind Kenma's carefully schooled expression.

"For old time's sake, fine," your dad relented at last through gritted teeth. His pale eyes found yours with weighted meaning etched into the stony planes of his visage. "But one more toe across any line here, Shoyo, and you're out on your ass before your old bones can even try spinning another excuse. [Y/N] isn't some naive little girl anymore, either."

The naked warning laced beneath that last softly uttered statement wasn't lost on either of you. Logically, you knew Kenma was trying to shield you from potential hurt or missteps in whatever unspoken exchange unfolded before you. But at the same time, you bristled instinctively at the implication you required such explicit paternal protections - no matter how well-intentioned.

Before you could unpack the bristling mixture of gratitude and indignant frustration any further, however, Hinata cleared his throat meaningfully. When your focus snapped back towards him, he simply crooked one finger in a beckoning 'come hither' gesture that raised your hackles anew despite the clear invitation tingeing his amber gaze with yearning heat.

"Well? C'mere and park that sweet little butt already, kiddo," he rasped, patting the couch cushion beside him once more with exaggerated insistence. "Promise to keep my hands where you can see 'em for now if that'll ease your dad's worries some..."

The blatant implication behind his easy words and rumbling timbre was not lost on you in the slightest. Kenma shifted in his armchair with a weighted sigh somewhere between exasperation and fond resignation you recognized all too well. He was placating Shoyo's incorrigible provocations for the moment - not out of obliviousness, but rather mindfulness of allowing both of you a fragile pretense to navigate whatever inevitability loomed ahead.

So you exhaled a steadying breath and made your way across the living room without faltering any further. Despite the scorching simmer radiating from Shoyo's simmering mug as he tracked your approach with utterly unabashed hunger, there remained an undeniable flicker of warmth and tenderness burning behind the primal furnace in those rich depths you'd come to crave. Reassurance and promise alike, vowing he had no intentions of treading upon the sacred boundaries of your father's trust without permission first.

Instead of claiming the cushion directly beside him as originally beckoned, however, you settled primly on the outer edge of the opposite side. Leaving a respectable yet still charged gulf between your forms that both men seemed to silently recognize without verbal acknowledgement. Kenma grunted something unintelligible but otherwise maintained his silence as the weight of expectant tension clung to the air like humid fog. For his part, Hinata’s nostrils flared ever-so-slightly as he drank in this fresh recalibration through hooded eyes - once more adjusting his restless body language until every coiled inch radiated perfect nonchalance and ease despite the undercurrent still humming between you both like a plucked string.

"Well alright then," he husked out at last once satisfying whatever internal calculations measured your positioning as acceptable - for now. "How 'bout I kick us off with something a little light to set the proper mood before getting into the heavy stuff, huh?"

Kenma exhaled an audible scoff as Shoyo thumbed the remote, queuing up some random movie or TV show with practiced ease while slinging one arm over the back of the couch cushions in an artless sprawl. Pointedly avoiding fixing you with any further heated looks, but leaving little ambiguity how aware he remained of your presence like a physical magnetized force beside him.

You swallowed hard despite yourself, painfully conscious of every tantalizing inch between your bodies and the delicious masculine presence rolling off Hinata in waves once more. He may have dialed back the overt provocation for the moment...but that inexorable undercurrent still thrummed with blistering promise of the untamed pleasures lying in wait should you falter further into his orbit tonight.

Almost against your will, electricity zinged along your nerves with each subtle shift and adjustment of his powerful frame beside you. Muscles flexing, fabric straining obscenely over the rigid outline of his cock bunching the sweatpants in teasing hints of his devastating endowment. You squeezed your thighs together hard enough to feel the dig of your nails embedding crescents into your palms, warring desperately with the reckless compulsion to simply throw yourself over his lap without shame or hesitation and indulge whatever incendiary rapture could be had here and now while within reach.

When Shoyo finally settled back fully with a contented grunt, you risked a sidelong glance and immediately felt your breath catch at the heated smolder awaiting you from those heavy-lidded amber depths. His tongue flicked over that full lower lip in a slow, indulgent glide that punched the breath from your lungs before Hinata even rumbled a single syllable.

"Just making myself comfy too, little minx," he murmured in that low, liquid rasp drenched with sinful promise despite his guileless expression. You shuddered despite your best efforts as his gaze dragged over every inch of you shamelessly before fixing on your parted lips with ravenous focus. "No need to go getting all worked up on me...not until we're good and ready to really blow off some of that tension proper, that is."

Your mouth went bone dry as his blatant implication crashed over you in molten waves, stoking the already swirling embers suffusing your limbs and core alike into wildfire ecstasy despite your best efforts. Yet before you could muster even a token protest, Shoyo quirked that same wicked half-smirk of his and deliberately settled back to focus on the film playing out before you.

For a merciful stretch, the only sounds permeating the dim living room came from the television's muted dialogue and occasional commentary muttered between your dad and Uncle Shoyo. You sank further into the plush cushions, knees pulled up to your chest in a subconscious show of self-preservation from the magnetic force radiating off Hinata's form beside you.

Despite his surface placidity now that the films were rolling, you could practically feel the heated undercurrent of his focus sweeping over you in lingering, liquid caresses – drinking you in from the corner of his vision like a serpent savoring its lure. The same leashed intensity and dominance promising utter rapture in the right circumstances from the very marrow of his bones.

You shivered despite the warmth of the room, senses still humming from his earlier provocations and insinuations sizzling in memory. The fleeting image of his thick, mouthwatering cock tenting the front of those sweats flickered behind your lids with maddening clarity. Stoking the delirious compulsion to reach out and caress, grip, indulge the intoxicating mysteries promised beneath with shameless abandon—

Just as you felt your restraint slipping further towards cataclysmic surrender, the unmistakable weight of Hinata's palm settled over your kneecap with searing possession. You flinched bodily but remained rooted in place, breath catching in your throat despite your best efforts.

"Easy, kiddo," he rumbled without shifting his gaze from the screen, somehow pitching his smoky undertones low enough to avoid disturbing Kenma's engrossed state. "You're looking a little tense over there...lemme help you loosen up, hmm?"

With maddening leisure, Hinata's large palm began smoothing up the sensitive expanse of your inner thigh with heavy insistence. You bit back the whimpering keen that immediately welled up, casting a wild glance between your dad's oblivious form and the man openly caressing your bare flesh so brazenly now. Yet not a flicker of reaction showed in Hinata's cool countenance apart from the subtle curve of that infuriating half-smirk ghosting his chiseled profile in the dim lighting.

You squeezed your eyes shut and fought for some semblance of composure as those rough, calloused fingertips mapped higher over your straining hamstrings. The unbearable heat of Hinata's touch seared lines of rapturous bliss through your veins with every teasing inch relinquished until you felt his knuckles graze the hem of your minuscule shorts threateningly.

Just when you thought you might vibrate out of your own skin from the maddening denial coupled with raw primal need, Hinata suddenly withdrew his hand from between your trembling thighs. You risked a single wild peek towards those simmering amber eyes, mouth parted around a desperate plea, only to suck in a harsh breath.

Because Hinata was already twisting upright on the cushion, seemingly ready to rise and depart your coiled position after reducing you to a melted puddle of longing desire. Before you could summon even a meager syllable of reproach, however, his powerful frame angled fully towards you and those devilish eyes trapped you utterly beneath their hooded, Scorching Gaze.

"Have a good night, sweet girl," Hinata husked with sinful roughness that made your core clench deliriously. In one dizzying blur, he dipped down to ghost his lips over your tingling, parted mouth in a blistering almost-caress brimming with unbearable erotic promise. "Try and get some rest after that little warm-up session...because you and I both know I'm nowhere near done indulging my sweet tooth for you proper yet, baby."

Just like that, he straightened up and sauntered from the living room before you could even hope to recover from his relentless provocations. Leaving your reeling in his smoldering wake, swaying dazedly from the delirious whiplash of rapture and untamed yearning still ricocheting through your veins like molten lightning.

When you finally mustered the wherewithal to meet your father's gaze once more, Kenma pinned you with an inscrutable look from across the quiet space. For several fraught heartbeats, neither of you spoke or moved a muscle – hovering on the periphery of whatever unspoken undercurrent now shuddered between you in the aftermath of Hinata's brash moves tonight.

"You should go on up to bed, [Y/N]," he finally rumbled evenly, features schooled into a careful blankness you knew better than to mistake for complacency. "There's no need for you to get further tangled up with whatever your uncle is trying to play at here tonight, kiddo. Get some rest while you still can."

Despite the searing weight behind his words, Kenma refused to meet your questioning stare directly. Almost as if he already knew precisely where your treacherous thoughts ultimately lay in the wake of Hinata's scorching ministrations...and wished to avoid acknowledging the truth staring you both in the face any longer.

Because in the end, you realized with fresh crestfallen resignation, your dad would never fully reckon with the gravity of what Hinata was igniting between you – much less grant tacit approval to see where the smoldering ashes might lead henceforth. Even if it meant witnessing you surrender yourself over to devouring rapture entirely and without reservation from this moment onward...

Over the next few days, Shoyo seemed to revel in keeping you teetering perpetually on the edge of sheer frustration and desperate arousal. Whenever the two of you found yourselves alone, whether briefly in passing or for snatched interludes, he radiated casual nonchalance and ease.

Yet his every glance, murmur, or teasing brush against your side dripped with the same primal undercurrent of restrained hunger simmering just beneath. You quickly discovered Hinata possessed a diabolical talent for igniting your senses into overdrive with little more than a heated look or suggestive comment virtually imperceptible to any casual observer.

He'd catch you off-guard in the kitchen with that smoldering gaze dragging over your body with open appraisal before rasping some ostensibly innocent quip about needing to "cool off" that made your thighs clench instinctively. Or fold his large, calloused hands around your hips from behind while reaching for something overhead - the scorching bulk of his chiseled frame molding against your backside in a delicious grind before withdrawing as casually as if nothing untoward occurred.

More maddening still were the heated glances and subtle lip-licking gestures Hinata indulged whenever your paths crossed in random hallways. His tongue would drag over those plush lips with exaggerated leisure, hooded gaze promising rapturous sin as you fought not to squirm like a prize filly on display.

Sometimes you wondered if the expert teasing was intended as punishment for not surrendering fully to his rapacious desires that first night. Other times, the agonizing compulsion to fling yourself bodily at Uncle Shoyo and beg for release became so overpowering you found every shred of self-control straining not to give in.

And through it all, your dad remained oblivious - too preoccupied with long work hours down at his office to pick up on the delirious tension humming between you and his houseguest. Leaving you utterly unguarded to endure Hinata's shameless flirtations and provocations without interference, until the entire apartment felt saturated in an erotic, static charge ready to detonate at any moment.

When Kenma did happen to be around, Hinata maintained a guileless facade of easy friendship and casual indifference around him. No hint of the lascivious teasing or ravenous heat frequently ignited whenever you two were alone. Leaving you silently reeling and doubting your ability to endure the breathless free-fall into either bliss or ruination promised in his molten stare much longer...

You tossed and turned restlessly in your bed that night, sheets tangling around your legs as you fought against the endless swirl of unbidden thoughts and desires tormenting your exhausted mind. No matter how you tried to clear your head or will your frazzled senses into oblivion, the same searing flashes kept replaying in vivid detail.

Shoyo's powerful frame looming over you, those intense amber eyes burning with naked hunger while calloused palms mapped every curve and hollow with insistent possession. The way his tongue would dart out and trace his full lips in a slow, taunting glide that made you ache with thwarted longing. That low, rumbling timbre swirling like dark velvet through your core whenever he rasped some molten insinuation dripping with sin...

You released a shuddering exhale into the stillness, sweat prickling along your nape and lower back as liquid need unfurled between your tightly clenched thighs yet again. Wetness seeped through the sparse fabric covering your overheated flesh, only fueling the delirious spiral towards capitulation threatening to unhinge your last vestiges of restraint entirely.

With an impatient huff, you shoved the tangled bedding aside and sat up - realizing that sleep, let alone any semblance of inner peace, was utterly forfeit tonight. Not while Hinata's intoxicating aura and tantalizing promise lurked within such maddeningly tempting reach under the same roof, catalyzing your deepest longings with effortless expertise.

Maybe retrieving a cold drink or nighttime snack would temporarily dull the scorching inferno smoldering through your limbs enough for coherent thought to prevail?

You slipped from your bedroom as quietly as possible, bare feet padding across the hallway towards the kitchen's dim glow. The silence reigned heavy and leaden, broken only by your shaky inhales and the muted hum of the refrigerator as you pulled it open with a soft creak.

Peering inside, you allowed the soothing chill to wash over you in waves while your eyes slipped closed blissfully for a precious handful of seconds. Some of the raw, reckless tension eased fractionally from the reprieve of chilly air ghosting over your sweat-damp skin and feverish nerves - at least until a quiet throat clearing shattered the fragile peace.

Your eyes flew wide, heart leaping into overdrive as a startled shriek lodged in your throat. Before it could tear free with enough force to wake the dead, a massive palm clapped firmly over your mouth while the other arm snaked around your midsection to immobilize you completely. The scorching planes of a powerful chest pressed flush against your back, swallowing you up in a masculine heat and presence so intoxicating, so overwhelmingly familiar that the fight instantly left your body in a boneless slump.

"Shhhh...hey, it's just me, kitten," Shoyo's husky rasp tickled the shell of your ear as he pulled you tight against his virile frame. Every syllable seemed to vibrate through you down to the delicious slide and flex his raw physicality shifting behind you with predatory grace. "Easy there, I'm not trying to scare you."

You managed a trembling nod against his broad palm, eyelids fluttering despite the rising current of panic and arousal sparking deliriously across your nerve endings. Gradually, Hinata eased the steel bands of his hold, allowing you to pivot and face him properly within the tight confines of his inescapable orbit.

There he loomed in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants hanging sinfully low on those chiseled hips, fresh from sleep by the looks of his tousled ginger thatch and drowsy bedroom eyes. You swallowed hard while drinking in the sight of his defined torso and powerful shoulders bracketing you - close enough for the humid puffs of his breathing to feather over your parted lips with every exhale.

"What are you doing prowling around at this hour, sweet girl?" he husked out, searching your flushed features with smoldering intensity you already knew was a precursor to much darker, breathless indulgences on the horizon. "Surely you weren't thinking of sneaking off without me again after our last little encounter?"

Your cheeks flushed hotly at the blatant insinuation, eyes darting down to the utterly obscene tenting of his pants now on full display without an ounce of shame or restraint. The thick ridge of his cock straining there seemed to twitch in delicious invitation, spurred by your hungry stare alone.

Your mouth went bone dry at the unbidden urges surging through you in roiling waves. The maddening temptation to simply sink to your knees and indulge your starving curiosity with lips, tongue...mouth yielding in utter obeisance flooded your every synapse without compunction now that opportunity knocked so brazenly.

Almost against your will, you found yourself inching incrementally closer until Hinata's smoldering presence utterly enveloped your overheated senses once more. The hunger, the scorching craving for just a taste of the forbidden pleasures he so unrepentantly dangled ever nearer soon blotted out every other earthly consideration beyond chasing oblivion through rapturous ruin entirely.

Just as you felt your restraint fraying to mere gossamer threads, Hinata cupped the nape of your neck in a searing brand while using his other hand to urge you backwards with insistent pressure. You remained frozen in place, utterly transfixed until his thumb lifted your chin upwards and those smoldering, hooded eyes captured yours in a mesmerizing trance.

"This isn't the time or place for that, baby," he growled thickly, the words rumbling through your core down to your drenched pussy between your quivering thighs in molten promise. "At least not until I've got you somewhere quieter...more private, hmm? Where I can really take my time ruining you by the end of this little midnight rendezvous..."

His calloused palm drifted lower to map the swell of your hip boldly before squeezing with exquisite possession. You arched helplessly into the delicious heat of his body pinning you against the fridge as Hinata continued rasping heated endearments over your feverish skin.

"I've half a mind to toss you over my shoulder and finally show you exactly what happens when you push a starving man's restraint too far like this..." His tongue darted out to blaze an electrifying path along the slender column of your throat, stoking the swirling embers into outright wildfire. "Have you screaming my name and begging to take every last fucking inch until you're left utterly wrecked and spent beneath me, sweet girl..."

You couldn't bite back the desperate whine that punched past your parted lips, even as you trembled in his unrelenting clutches and chills caressed your overheated skin from the open fridge. The aching vacancy between your clenching thighs throbbed mercilessly, liquid arousal flooding your pussy at each wanton promise slipping from Hinata's tongue.

Before you could summon the wherewithal to respond or surrender further into the rising tide of blissful rapture, Shoyo sighed heavily against your jawline. You felt the last fraying threads of tension suddenly ease incrementally from his uncompromising bulk confined behind you, until his palms smoothed over your hips in a gentle sweep.

"But I won't..." he murmured in that rumbling baritone somehow laced with the barest undercurrent of regret now. "Not without your full consent first, kiddo. That's the line I promised your dad I wouldn't cross..."

With aching deliberation, Hinata began extricating himself from where he caged you against the kitchen counters. Every subtle shift and retreat of his rangy, scorching frame sent a new frisson of loss prickling along your sensitized nerves - until he'd repositioned entirely behind you again with respectable distance.

You blinked dazedly for several suspended heartbeats, mind whirling from the roller-coaster of sensations still ricocheting through your limbs and core alike. When you finally mustered the courage to turn and face Shoyo once more, you found his stare guarded yet intense - still burning with the weight of visceral, undeniable yearning despite his display of restraint.

"You should probably head on back up to bed and try getting some rest, [Y/N]," he rumbled out lowly, running one hand through his wild bedhead in a gesture of reasserted nonchalance that rang hollow to both of you in the aftermath. "We can talk things out properly tomorrow after I've had a chance to cool off and think..."

Despite the gently-uttered suggestion, a daring splinter of molten want lanced through you at the weighty implication behind his parting murmur. Some impulsive, elemental part of your soul recognized this as the precipice you'd been hurtling towards all along: the choice to finally tumble into Uncle Shoyo's waiting inferno utterly and surrender whatever innocence remained...or reluctantly retreat from temptation's siren call.

He finally moved to slip back into the shadows—only for your hand to shoot out on pure reckless instinct, snagging his wrist in a vice.

Shoyo froze in place, chest swelling around a shuddering inhale that stirred the tendrils of hair fluttering across your flushed nape. Despite your bravado, you found your throat working convulsively as his piercing focus zeroed in on the fragile point where your thundering pulse danced below your jawline.

"[Y/N]..." he rumbled in that smoky timbre that made your core clench deliriously. "Don't go starting something here you ain't fully prepared to see through to the bitter end now, baby. 'Cause I promise you won't be leaving this kitchen the same sweet, blushing little minx you wandered in here as—"

"Please," you burst out in a desperate, trembling rasp before you could overthink the impulse further. Tears of frustrated yearning stung the corner of your eyes as you maintained your fragile grip on Hinata's wrist through sheer force of will. "Please, Uncle Shoyo...I can't—I need—"

You broke off in a piteous whimper despite your best efforts. Because how could you even begin to articulate the smoldering vortex of compulsion and visceral craving warring through your veins in the wake of his unapologetic provocation? How starved for his touch, his possession, his claiming rapture you'd found yourself since that very first night permitting him to infiltrate beneath your boundaries?

Hinata's chest heaved in visible effort, muscles tensing and bunching as his control clearly wavered on a razor's edge right alongside yours. Then with a low, guttural groan of surrender, he turned fully back into your space - allowing your trembling grip to capture his wrist once more as those smoldering amber depths searched yours from mere inches away.

"Okay, kitten," Shoyo rasped out at last in a voice gone ragged around the edges. "Okay...I hear you loud and clear now. And lucky for us both..."

His free hand snaked around the small of your back in one fluid yet inescapable glide, crushing your body flush against his chiseled torso with insistent possession. Despite your initial startled inhale, every fiber of your being instantly melted into the scorching heat and masculine power radiating from Hinata in molten waves of delirious ecstasy.

"...I would never in a million years dream of denying a sweet, desperate thing like you exactly what she so clearly craves from the very core of her being ever again..."

Those plush lips skimmed teasingly along your cheekbone, eliciting a shuddering sigh as your eyelids fluttered in utter surrender. Then Shoyo's sinful mouth ghosted a trail downwards, tracing the contours of your jaw and neck with such agonizing precision you nearly sobbed aloud from the unbearable ache of anticipation unfurling inside.

"So let's start this proper now, baby," Hinata murmured directly against the shell of your ear. You couldn't help arching against his frame like a bowstring as the low, sinful rumble washed over you - his hands already sliding down to capture and squeeze your hips with bruising force.

"You’re not going to call me uncle anymore, kitten," he continued with a sinful lilt. "And you're certainly not going to refer to me as Shoyo either. Not while I’m fucking you. Understand?"

Hinata's palm smoothed over your trembling flank before cupping your ass in an unmistakable act of dominance. You gasped out a broken mewl, only for him to hitch you tighter against his virile torso as you fought to keep from melting into an absolute puddle at his feet.

"When we're all alone together like this, you'll be calling me Daddy instead," he growled directly against your racing pulse, tongue darting out in a hot, electrifying stroke along your feverish flesh. "Is that understood, pretty girl?"

You managed a dazed nod, eyes slipping closed entirely as molten arousal coursed through you in heady torrents. Hinata clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, releasing your hip only to give your bottom a swift, resounding slap. You jumped at the unexpected impact, yelping as a new flood of liquid heat soaked through the already sodden fabric of your panties.

"Words, kitten," Shoyo husked against your fevered skin. "I need to hear the words. Are you gonna be a good girl and obey, or do we need to have a proper lesson before we move on to the fun stuff?"

A shiver raced down your spine as a fresh surge of liquid arousal spilled from your throbbing pussy, dripping onto the hardwood beneath you. You whimpered aloud at the scalding sensation, squirming within Hinata's steely grasp as he pressed a chiding kiss directly below your ear.

"I—I'll be good, Daddy," you gasped out at last. Your cheeks burned with equal parts mortification and wanton desire while Shoyo hummed his approval against your flushed nape, trailing hot kisses and playful nips all along the sensitive flesh.

"Mmm, I knew you'd make a sweet, obedient little angel for me, kitten," he murmured in that low, hypnotic rumble. One hand slid from your hip to trace the line of your spine, teasing along the hem of your tiny tank top with aching slowness. His fingers hooked around the fabric and began tugging it upwards, the pads skimming over the feverish expanse of flesh he gradually bared to the balmy air.

"It's just too bad your first lesson will have to be the roughest," he rasped directly against the shell of your ear. A frisson of raw anticipation rippled down your spine at the dark, dangerous undercurrent of lust that laced each syllable. "After all, we're long overdue for a proper punishment for how brazenly you've been taunting and teasing poor Daddy, don't you agree?"

The tank top soon flew into the darkness, leaving your quivering, exposed form in nothing but the thin satin of your panties. You couldn't help squirming under Shoyo's piercing stare and the searing weight of his touch as it skated back down to grip your bottom possessively.

"So, how does that sound, kitten?" he purred lowly, kneading the firm, supple flesh of your ass in his broad palm. You keened and arched against his towering frame, unable to resist the overwhelming compulsion to surrender every last scrap of your remaining dignity under his sinful ministrations.

"Punish me, Daddy," you whispered breathlessly, eyes squeezing shut as his thumb dipped tantalizingly beneath the soaked silk of your panties and brushed a feather-light stroke against your throbbing clit. "Want you to spank me, please..."

"Spank you? Now there's an offer I can't possibly refuse," Hinata replied with a dark chuckle. His palm smoothed over the swell of your bottom, the calluses sending delicious frissons of sensation zipping through your nerve endings with each passing stroke.

"But, I think it's only fair I give you a chance to make up for all that mischief and teasing you've put poor Daddy through first." His lips captured the delicate skin of your nape in a hot, open-mouthed kiss that made your toes curl against the hardwood. "What do you think, kitten?"

Before you could even process the question, Hinata's other hand abandoned your hip in favor of hooking one finger under the thin strap of your thong. He gave a swift, sharp tug that snapped the delicate lace and left the garment pooling at your feet in an instant.

You trembled with unabashed desire as Shoyo's gaze swept hungrily over the newly-bared expanse of flesh, his nostrils flaring and pupils dilating until his irises were nothing but thin rings of liquid gold. You could feel his thick, twitching cock straining against the sweatpants, and couldn't resist squirming back against his pelvis to draw a choked-off groan from the man pinning you.

"Mmm, you're soaked through, aren't you, pretty girl?" Hinata husked against your flushed, damp nape, his other hand still kneading the firm curve of your ass as he pressed forward. His cock grazed the seam of your thighs, sending a shuddering gasp tumbling from your parted lips as the aching vacancy between your legs throbbed.

"I can feel how desperate and empty you are for it, kitten," he rasped, giving your bottom a brisk, stinging swat. You gasped and jerked into his hips with a helpless whimper, eyes rolling back as another gush of liquid arousal dripped onto the floor between your legs. "Look at you, dripping like a little river and squirming like a bitch in heat, just begging for Daddy's cock to fill you up nice and tight..."

He rolled his hips in slow, torturous friction, cock catching against your drenched pussy and the underside of your clit until a wanton whine slipped from your lips. Then with a low, rumbling groan, Shoyo withdrew and took a deliberate step backwards - putting enough distance between the two of you to make the sudden loss of contact nearly palpable.

"But first we’re going to train that bratty little mouth of yours," he murmured huskily, reaching out to cup your chin and tilt your face upwards towards his. "Get on your knees, baby."

Your breath hitched and your knees trembled as the words registered. Even in your thoroughly compromised state, the implications sent a jolt of fear lancing through the molten haze of arousal clouding your brain. But, when you dared a glance back at Hinata's piercing golden stare, your heart skipped a beat and your pulse quickened at the raw, unbridled hunger etched into every hard line and angle of his features.

"Don't make me repeat myself, kitten," he murmured warningly, giving the supple swell of your ass a swift, stinging swat that had you squealing and stumbling towards him on unsteady limbs.

You sank onto your knees with a soft huff, blinking dazedly up at Hinata from beneath your lashes. He stood above you like a towering titan, silhouetted by the faint moonlight slanting through the kitchen window and the shadows enveloping the two of you. The sight of him, wild and feral and utterly irresistible, left your core clenching and your breath stuttering.

"Go ahead, baby," Shoyo urged you huskily, fingers skimming over the flushed, feverish skin of your cheek before tangling in your hair. "Taste Daddy."

You shuddered, eyes fluttering closed as his grip tightened and he began guiding you forward. There was a single, suspended moment of anticipation as you hovered just before the massive bulge tenting the front of his sweats. Then, just as you reached out to tug the waistband down, Shoyo halted you with a harsh tug on your hair.

"Ah, ah," he warned you lowly, eliciting a whimper of frustration from you that had him chuckling lowly in response. "You don't get to use your hands. Just your mouth, baby."

Heat rushed to your cheeks and a fresh flood of arousal pooled at your core, dripping down your thighs and onto the hardwood in a steady stream. You bit back a frustrated groan, squirming in his grasp as his cock twitched and throbbed beneath the cotton, mere inches away.

Then without allowing yourself another moment of hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss right where the mushroom head strained the fabric. Hinata's breath hitched and his grip on your hair tightened, a low hiss of approval slipping past his clenched teeth.

You glanced up, meeting his burning stare with your own as you traced the outline of his cock with the flat of your tongue. The taste of salt and musk and him, all man and virile power, exploded across your taste buds. A shudder rippled through you, leaving your core clenching and dripping in the aftermath.

"Fucking tease," Hinata groaned, his eyes falling closed as you began mouthing at his clothed erection, the wet patch slowly spreading and growing more obvious beneath the force of your ministrations. "Get to it already, kitten."

He yanked you forward and you gasped at the sudden pressure against your mouth, squirming and shifting as he ground his cock against the seam of your lips. Your cheeks burned, arousal pooling deep in the pit of your stomach and spreading outwards like molten honey as the musky scent of his precum filled your senses.

Then finally, you caught the elastic waistband between your teeth and tugged it down, allowing Hinata's heavy, aching length to spring free at last. You blinked, momentarily stunned and dazed by the sheer, impossible girth and size of his cock as it bobbed before your face, droplets of precum glistening on the swollen mushroom head and a prominent vein snaking down the underside.

"Open wide for Daddy, kitten," Hinata husked above you, giving your hair a warning tug. You barely had time to suck in a desperate breath before he was thrusting forward, spearing between your parted lips and sliding along your tongue in a hot, thick slide of molten flesh.

A garbled moan spilled from you as his cock hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your vision go blurry. The salty tang of precum burst across your taste buds, only to be washed away as he withdrew in a slick, obscene glide and plunged back down with a guttural groan.

"Oh fuck, that's a good girl," he grunted, his hips setting a relentless pace as he fucked your mouth with abandon. You whimpered, tears streaking your cheeks and spit dribbling from the corners of your lips as the force of his thrusts rocked you on your knees.

Hinata's breathing grew labored, his muscles bunching and tensing as he pistoned into your mouth, chasing his own pleasure with a single-minded fervor that left you delirious with want. His cock throbbed and pulsed on your tongue, swelling impossibly larger and harder until you could hardly breathe past the sheer thickness filling every inch of available space.

Your hands scrabbled for purchase against his hips, fingers clawing into his flesh and digging into the ridges of his Adonis belt as he drove deeper into the tight, constricting tunnel of your throat. A strangled groan spilled from him, his pelvis snapping forward until his balls slapped against your chin and your nose was buried in the thatch of hair at the base.

"God, such a perfect fucking cockslut," he grunted, voice reduced to a ragged rasp that had you shivering and quaking with a fresh wave of liquid arousal. You whined in response, eyes rolling back as he slid down your gullet, the flared mushroom head forcing your throat to stretch impossibly wide around his girth.

Then suddenly, Shoyo wrenched your head back by the hair. You sputtered and coughed, gasping desperately for air as the string of spit connecting his cockhead to your mouth snapped and a trickle of saliva dribbled down your chin. Your vision was blurry and tears clung to your lashes, but the sight of Hinata's cock, flushed and gleaming and positively coated in your spit, made your core clench and ache with a renewed desperation.

"Such a pretty mess," he murmured, the pad of his thumb catching the rivulet of drool and precum and smearing it along your lower lip. You whined and leaned forward, trying to catch the calloused digit between your lips, only for him to yank it away with a chuckle.

"Not so fast, kitten," he admonished, releasing your hair and taking a single step backwards. You swayed on your knees, eyes following his movements as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged them down in a smooth, sinuous glide.

The fabric fell in a rumpled heap at his ankles, leaving him bare and exposed in the moonlight. His cock jutted proudly from his pelvis, swollen and twitching and absolutely dripping with your saliva and an ungodly amount of his own precum. You licked your lips, the taste of salt and musk still lingering there, and squirmed where you knelt.

"You look so hungry, kitten," Shoyo said with a devilish smirk. He wrapped one large hand around the base of his cock and gave it a slow, deliberate stroke from root to tip. You watched, utterly mesmerized by the flex of his arm and the sinful glide of his fist, until the tip was once more dripping and you could practically feel the throbbing pulse against your tongue.

"But you know, I don't think you've learned your lesson just yet."

Before you could fully process the words, Hinata had seized your arm shoulders and shoved you back until your spine hit the cool marble of the counter. You yelped at the sharp, sudden impact, only to have the sound muffled by Hinata's cockas he leaned forward and stuffed your mouth full.

Your head thunked back against the marble and you whimpered around the heavy, thick length. Above you, Shoyo grunted and set a brutal, unforgiving pace as he speared past your lips and fucked into the tight, hands braced against the edge of the countertop and eyes dark and glinting.

You squirmed and writhed beneath him, eyes rolling back and a steady stream of saliva and precum dribbling from the corner of your lips. Your fingernails scraped at the hardwood, hips bucking and core clenching around nothing as his cock dragged along the flat of your tongue and plunged deeper than before.

"That's right, kitten," he husked, reaching down to grip the hair at the crown of your head. His pelvis rolled forward in a devastatingly deep thrust, drawing a choked gasp from you. "You take Daddy's cock so fucking well, like you were made for it, weren't you?"

A low, needy whine spilled from you, sending a frisson of vibrations racing up his cock. He hissed, head dropping and his fingers tightening to an almost-painful grip on your hair as his thrusts turned wild and frenzied. The wet slap of flesh on flesh echoed off the walls, mixing with the lewd squelch and slurp of your mouth and the ragged groans that tumbled from his lips.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—gonna cum, baby," he panted out, his movements growing erratic and the swell of his cock pulsing. The words were a trigger, sending your head spinning and your vision going hazy. You moaned, a fresh rush of arousal dripping down onto the hardwood between your splayed thighs.

Shoyo's hips snapped forward once, twice more, and then with a strangled, wordless shout, he pulled out and pumped his cock. His release shot in pearly white streaks, splattering over the hollow of your throat and the tops of your breasts.

You panted, blinking up at the ceiling as your head spun and a dazed smile curled the corners of your lips. His cum, warm and sticky, slid down the slope of your chest and between the valley of your breasts. But, the euphoric haze was shattered when Hinata's fingers slid around your neck, pressing hard against the sensitive skin as he squeezed and forced you to tilt your head up.

"Open up," he demanded, the head of his cock nudging against your lips and painting them with a thin sheen of his release. "Be a good little cumslut and clean me off."

You parted your lips and allowed him to push his softening cock past the seam, the salty-bitter tang of his cum exploding across your tongue. He held your head still as you swallowed, his gaze never once wavering from the sight.

"That's a good girl," he purred, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek. You whimpered, leaning into the gentle touch, only to have it vanish. "Now, on your feet. We're not done here yet."

It took you several long, painful moments to gather your wits and regain control of your limbs. Your thighs were quivering, weak and unsteady, and your mind was fuzzy. You staggered upright, clinging to the edge of the countertop for support, and glanced back up at Hinata.

He had stepped back, the golden halo of his hair glowing ethereal and unearthly in the moonlight and his eyes burning into yours. You shivered, feeling a fresh trickle of his cum slide down your chest and drip onto the floor.

"Look at the mess you've made, kitten," Shoyo drawled, a predatory gleam to his eyes and a devilish smirk curling his lips. "Such a naughty little slut, making a puddle on the floor and dripping with Daddy's cum."

His thumb swept beneath the curve of your breast, smearing the pearly streaks of his release over your flushed skin. He gathered up a thick dollop and pressed the calloused digit onto the sensitive peak, leaving you trembling and breathless as his thumb and forefinger closed around it and rolled the hardened nub between the pads.

"I think it's only fair that I clean you up in return," he murmured, voice dipping into a husky, sinful timbre. He leaned forward, his lips skimming over the sensitive shell of your ear and eliciting a full-body shudder.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, he was crouching before you and his lips were closing around the puckered nipple, lapping at the salty, musky cum with a low, rumbling groan. Your head dropped back, a garbled moan spilling from your parted lips as his tongue swirled around the aching peak.

Your knees quivered and buckled, but Hinata's hand clamped around the back of your thigh and held you in place. His other hand came up, his broad palm cupping the full swell of your breast and squeezing it. He flicked his tongue against the bud, sucking and laving and coaxing the bead to distend even further, before switching sides and repeating the motion.

"S-Shoyo, please," you whimpered, the ache and need between your legs growing more desperate and unbearable. "I-I can't, I'm gonna—"

His teeth immediately closed around the taut peak, sending a jolt of electricity shooting straight through to your core. You arched into the sensation, a garbled whine slipping past your lips as your hips bucked and ground against the air.

"Ah, ah," Hinata warned, lifting his head and meeting your gaze. His pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of molten gold encircling them. "That’s not how you address me, kitten. Be a good girl and try again."

Your stomach clenched and the ache in your core intensified, the molten pool of arousal spreading throughout every nerve-ending. You swallowed, a whine slipping past your parted lips as you squirmed and fought to form coherent words.

"D-Daddy, please," you finally managed, voice barely a whisper and hoarse and raspy.

"Please, what?"

You could see the way his eyes darkened, the gold flecks seeming to glow. It left you shuddering and quaking in the aftermath, your hips jerking and twitching as his gaze trailed over every inch of your flushed, heaving body.

"P-Please, fuck me," you whispered, cheeks burning and the shame and humiliation making you ache all the more. "Please, Daddy, I-I can't wait any longer."

A low growl, deep and guttural and primal, slipped from him. Then, before you could blink, he was standing and spinning you around. His hands landed on your shoulders, pressing you down until your cheek was flush against the counter and your ass was arched in the air.

"Don't move," he grunted, stepping back and giving your ass a resounding smack that had you mewling and squirming. You could hear him rustling behind you, the slick, obscene glide of his hand over his cock. Then, just as suddenly, his hands were on your hips and his pelvis was pressed against the curve of your ass.

"You want Daddy's cock, kitten?" he husked, the mushroom head slipping between your folds and parting them. He dragged his cock up and down, the blunt tip catching against your clit and the flared ridge rubbing against your swollen, hypersensitive folds.

"Yes!" you keened, back arching and hips grinding and trying to force him inside. "Yes, yes, please! P-Please, give it to me."

Hinata chuckled, his hand coming down in another punishing slap against the swell of your ass. You jerked and moaned, the sting and heat sending a fresh surge of arousal pouring down onto his cock. His cock twitched, the mushroom head catching against the rim of your entrance, and a low hiss spilled from his lips.

"Fucking slut, look how fucking wet and eager you are," he grunted. His hips rocked forward, the tip of his cock just beginning to breach your soaked, tight channel. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you, kitten? Just couldn't wait for Daddy to bend you over and stuff you full of his cock, huh?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you whimpered, tears burning the backs of your eyes as the need became unbearable. "Oh god, Daddy, I-I've been such a good girl. Please, just—"

His hips snapped forward, the flared mushroom head of his cock splitting you open in a single, brutal thrust. You choked on a gasp, fingers scrabbling against the marble for purchase as a strangled moan slipped from your lips.

"Fuck, look at you," Hinata growled, his fingers digging into the flare of your hips and his cock buried to the hilt. He kept a firm grip on your waist, not allowing you to squirm or wriggle or try to adjust to his massive, pulsing girth, as he slowly pulled back until just the tip remained nestled between your folds. You were dimly aware of how your feet weren’t even touching the floor, how you were simply being held aloft by his bruising grip on your hips and the sheer, impossible size of his cock.

"Look at how easily you take my cock," he hissed, and then slammed back home with a wet, obscene slap. You cried out, eyes rolling back and blunt nails dragging across the countertop, as he set a ruthless, merciless pace.

"F-Fuck," you whimpered, the tears burning the backs of your eyes now trickling down your cheeks and mingling with the saliva dribbling from your lips. "S-Shoyo, please—"

"What did I tell you?" he growled, his pelvis slapping against the curve of your ass and driving his cock even deeper. He reached around, his fingers delving between the apex of your thighs and finding the swollen, aching nub there.

"You don't get to use my name, kitten," he hissed, his middle and ring finger sliding up on either side of the bud and pinching it between them. You squealed, hips jerking and back arching as the pleasure-pain had your head spinning and your vision blurring. "Now, let's try that again, shall we?"

"D-Daddy, please," you choked out, a sob tearing free as his fingers began to slowly, agonizingly roll the bundle of nerves between his fingers.

"Mmm, much better," he cooed, his tone soft and honeyed, though the brutal pace of his thrusts never faltered. His cock seemed to swell even more, the throbbing length spearing impossibly deep and drawing a garbled cry from you.

"God, such a perfect, pretty little cocksleeve," he grunted, his voice a ragged rasp as he leaned forward, blanketing his torso along your spine and pressing you down. The new angle sent the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot, forcing the air from your lungs and leaving you a sobbing, trembling mess.

"Gonna fill you up, kitten," he groaned, lips skimming over the curve of your ear and his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin. You shivered, hips arching and thighs quivering and core clenching, and a desperate mewl spilled from your parted lips.

"Is that what you want, baby? Want Daddy to stuff you full and paint your pretty pussy white?"

"Yes, yes, oh god, please," you babbled, the words tumbling freely and incoherently from your lips. Hinata grunted, his hips snapping and the drag of his cock against your g-spot sending sparks skittering across your vision.

"Fuck, gonna cum, kitten," he panted, his lips moving to press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the curve of your jaw. He reached up, his large hand curling around the column of your neck and squeezing. You felt your eyes flutter, a high, keening cry slipping from your lips, and a moment later, you felt his teeth close around the tender flesh where neck met shoulder.

He slammed his hips forward one final time, and the pain of his bite coupled with the unrelenting assault of his cock, his fingers, was too much. Your release hit, hard and sudden, and it tore a strangled scream from your throat. Your eyes rolled back, limbs seizing and spine arching as the pleasure washed over you in an unending torrent.

Dimly, distantly, you felt Hinata's teeth release their hold, and then he was groaning and his cock was pulsing and twitching as his cum painted the inside of your walls white. The flood of his release was enough to prolong your own orgasm, sending another wave crashing over you and leaving you choking and gasping.

Hinata slumped forward, his weight pinning you to the counter and his cock still nestled deep inside you. You could feel the slow trickle of his release and your own arousal slipping from between your folds and coating the insides of your thighs, but you were far too exhausted and fucked-out to care.

His lips skimmed over the marks left by his teeth, and he slowly straightened. You whimpered at the sudden movement, the stretch and shift of his softening cock still lodged inside. His hands stroked soothingly up and down the expanse of your back, fingers dancing across the knobs of your spine and his lips brushing feather-light kisses along the curve of your shoulder and the slope of your neck.

"I've got you, kitten," he murmured, his tone soft and gentle, in direct contrast to the way his cock was still splitting you open and his cum was still leaking out around it. He eased off of you just enough for you to set your feet on the ground, and you felt the instant your knees buckled.

With a grunt, Hinata wrapped his arm around your waist and kept you upright, his cock still buried to the hilt and his hand splayed flat against your abdomen. You shuddered and sighed, a small, content smile curling your lips and the exhaustion beginning to set in.

"Such a good girl," Hinata hummed, his lips finding the curve of your ear and his hand smoothing up and over the curve of your ribs. "So, so good for me. Daddy's good girl."

You preened at the praise, a shiver skittering up your spine. The ache between your thighs was becoming more bearable, the overwhelming need and desire ebbing away. You felt him shift, felt the slow drag of his cock as he finally pulled out, and whined.

"Shh, it's okay, kitten," Shoyo crooned, his arm still curled around your waist as he reached around and slid his hand down your front. His fingertips dipped between your folds, smearing the remnants of his release and the thick mixture of his cum and your arousal over your aching, abused pussy. You gasped, hips twitching and thighs trembling and your core clenching around nothing.

"I know, baby," he cooed, his palm resting against the apex of your thighs and keeping the heel of his hand pressed firmly against your throbbing clit. You whimpered, squirming, and his arm tightened.

"Stay still, kitten," he ordered, voice dipping into a growl, and you shuddered. "We don’t want to waste a single drop of Daddy's cum, do we?"

Your stomach clenched and you shook your head, lips parted and a thin, reedy mewl spilling out. His cock gave a weak twitch, the fat, swollen head nudging against the curve of your ass, and you felt the slow trickle of his cum leak out of you.

"N-No, Daddy," you mumbled, a shiver running through you and the molten pool of desire reigniting within your core.

"Then be a good girl and stay still."

You did, the only movements coming from the trembling and twitching of your hips and thighs. His palm kept a steady, unrelenting pressure against your clit, his fingertips slowly stroking the slick, sensitive folds and smearing his cum into your skin.

"That's a good girl," Hinata murmured, pressing another soft, tender kiss to the back of your neck. "Now, let's get cleaned up and get some sleep. It's late."

He pulled his hand away, and the sudden lack of contact made you whimper and writhe. You could feel the mess between your thighs, feel the thick, pearly ropes of his release dripping down onto the floor, and the knowledge of it left you breathless and needy.

"Daddy—"

It was just then that the kitchen light flicked on.

[andersonfilms]

feat. anderson's treats & baker!abby

abby who owns a bakery shop and you have an insatiable sweet tooth that never seems to end, a match made in heaven. your first date being in her shop she closes for the night, anderson’s treats, flour anxiously spread across her cheeks, she’s blushing furiously as you watch her, careful hands kneading the dough as you gaze at her with a certain sparkle in her eye as abby speaks about what got her into baking in the first place. 

then, curiosity gets the best of abby and she’s asking you questions about yourself, maybe she gets you to assist her, the butterflies in your stomach swarm as she tells lame jokes no one should really find funny but you do. with skillful hands, she makes you her favorite, one her shop is known for. it crumbles deliciously in her mouth, but the filling comes out as it coats the corner of your mouth, leaving her to use her thumb to wipe the strawberry filling away. with intentful innocence, she brings it to her lips. your deep, curious eyes inquiring at her mouth, full pink lips sucking the strawberry away. it’s only then she’s realized what’s been done. 

burning bright and red, the blush noticeable from a mile away. it’s when you notice the scar on her cheek and it makes you wonder how she got it and maybe you’ll ask her at another time but you don’t want to dismiss the moment. abby anderson, looking upon you with a blinding smile, giggles. airy and light, as if her laughter is the dough you’re kneading. the delightful substance infused into your bloodstream, needed as much as the blood pumping through your veins. 

as delightful as it is, it’s still a distraction. you think of her instead of the task she’s so cutely assigned you to. 

as you visibly struggling to knead the dough correctly. abby thinks it’s cute, but she decides to assist you. “here, let me—” the blonde maneuvers her frame around you, arms practically wrapped around your waist as she places her warm hands on top of your own. her voice sends a sensational shiver down your spine. “oh!”

abby chuckles but offers nothing else to say as she shows how to do it correctly. the feeling comes natural to her and she passes along her natural instinct but all you can think about is how she feels, her words coaching you in your ear as abby’s breath causes goosebumps to soothe every inch of your skin. 

“yeah, just like that. you’re a natural baby.” she kisses your cheek sweetly. she smirks as you lean back to her, finding comfort in the safety of her warmth. a homecoming, a sense of it settled in your heart, one only she could’ve brought to a full bloom.

OKAY BAKER!AU??? I MIGHT NEED TO EXPLORE THIS MORE GAHHHHHDKJF ♡

tags: @plutolovesyou @brackishkittie @nybueckers @only4theweeknd @tlouloser @marvelwomenarehot0 @grey-jedi12 @r3starttt @bittersu1te @pxgeturner @maxinephobia @marsworldd @aouiaa @mytwoseater @cherrybunny @twopeoplee @i-lov3-w0men @lvlymicha @half-of-gay

wanna be tagged?

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! Welcome to chapter 2! We're going to be attempting a nice lil fruit-focused quiche/frittata/pie thing. And yes, tomatoes are fruits.

Who says you cant eat totally normal things in a dungeon with definitely no monsters in them? 

You know what that means; Man-Eating Plant Tart!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Man-Eating Plant Tart?” YOU MIGHT ASKThe way its prepared in the show is akin to a frittata, but the crust is borrowed from quiche world.

Eggs

Whole milk

Bell peppers

Persimmons

Cherry tomatoes

Pitted green olives

Thinly sliced OR shredded sweet potatos

Salt

Pepper

In the show they use leftover hotpot stock, slime, and mashed up fruit as the batter ingredients. Fruit mush is easy to work with but I couldn't find any stand-in for slime that would cook correctly into what they made in the show, and the hotpot stock is just not thick enough to carry the base. It is too many watery ingredients at once. Needing a thickening agent, both gelatin and agar agar were tried. It was edible but the texture was… gelatinous. Regular egg and milk will serve for our purposes.

The next complication was the crust- so in the show its made with the skins of fruit, straightforward yeah? Well. You see it also has to be 1. Thick enough to bake without burning 2. Harden through cooking to be sliced and held and 3. Inedible. Lotus leaves? Plantain leaves? Really thin gourds? I couldnt find any historical basis for a savory food cooked in this method, or similar method, with an intentionally inedible crust. I could find a few dishes which used leaves as their crust, but none that hardened during cooking and even less that used fruit skin. I chose sweet potato skin for its visual match and texture. It is edible, and it is not a fruit.

I hope youll forgive me for these 2 major deviations as i wanted to keep it looking how it does in the show while also ensuring it tastes good.

AND, “what does a Man-Eating Plant Tart taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKFluffy, airy, savory, salty.

The density of the eggs is offset by the crisp fruits

And the saltiness doesnt overpower the remnant fruit-sweetness

(If you eat the crust) the sweet potato brings this nice muted, smokey, flavor

Spongecake-esque in consistency

Would pair well with cranberry or strawberry juice

Would also pair well with a mellow hot sauce?

. You can use heavy cream instead of milk for a creamier batter . Roast the fruit longer to remove more liquid if too wet (and vice versa if too dry) . Smoked paprika, pepper flakes, cumin, garlic powder, and onion powder would taste good in the mixture

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

"A mixture of mashed up and cut up Man-Eating Plant fruit, slime and scorpion soup is poured into a pan lined with the flattened peel of the fruit and cooked before garnishing with some more fruit. Described as salty by the group."

From start to finish this recipe took 3-ish hours? Shredding the potatoes took the longest, so if you get them bagged itd be cut down. A very filling recipe and a good way to sneak veggies/fruits in if you have a hard time getting enough of those essential nutrients. The best advice i can give is to add salt/seasonings at every stage of the process, to build up layers. It makes a difference flavor-wise (even if its just salt). I advise against reheating if possible. The filling will make the crust soggy over time.

If you want to be closer to the cooking of the show, you could double the fruit amounts and mash them together while halving the amount of egg and milk. I hadnt tried due to budget reasons, but it should work with some finangling. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys with how todays recipe turned out <333

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do better, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

3 Eggs

13oz whole milk

2 bell peppers

2 small persimmons

140oz cherry tomatoes

12oz pitted green olives

34oz thinly sliced OR shredded sweet potatos

Salt

Pepper

Method:

Heat oven to 420f and grease a 9-inch pie pan.

Thinly slice (or shred) your sweet potatoes and squeeze out any excess moisture. Coat in olive oil, salt and pepper.

Press sweet potato mixture evenly into and up the sides of the pie pan.

Blind bake for roughly 25 minutes or until lightly golden-brown. No worries if the edges get crisp.

Remove pie pan from oven and set aside.

Core and chop up your bell peppers and persimmons. Coat with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

Line out on a baking sheet, evenly spaced, and roast for roughly 20 minutes or until softened. (you can do this at the same time on a separate rack from the pie crust if you have room)

Remove the stems from your cherry tomatoes, and drain/dry your green olives if canned.

Bring a frying pan to medium heat with olive oil. Add the green olives and sautee until their skin texture starts dimpling. Add the cherry tomatoes and continue sauteeing for about 5 minutes or until lightly browned.

Once the bell peppers, persimmons, cherry tomatoes, and green olives are all done, set aside to cool until just above room temp.

Lower the oven temperature to 350f.

In a mixing bowl combine your eggs and milk, add salt to taste. If you want other seasonings nows a good time!

Once uniform in color and texture, add your cooked fruit. Stir until evenly distributed.

Pour mixture into the potato pie crust.

Bake for roughly 40 minutes. The filling should be mostly firm, but wiggle *slightly* when you shake the pan.

Remove from oven and let rest for roughly 15 minutes before serving.

[airyairyaucontraire]

Made bagels today and I think they turned out quite attractive

[lqveharrington]

Holidays | C.S.

summary: your first holiday/christmas outside of the districts

pairing: politician!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: mainly fluff, reader is from district 12 (this is very important in this one-shot), coriolanus is manipulative in this (not a lot, but still), angst if you squint.

a/n: happy holidays 🎄

Despite living in the Capitol, your spirits were up when the holidays came around. Those living at the Capitol had many decorations up and participated in festivities that would certainly get those in the districts in trouble.

As the chosen wife of — the sudden rise to power and wealth — Coriolanus Snow, you were also put into the impression that you were to make this holiday season the best for you and your husband.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Coriolanus told you that he was to work late, strategizing to help his campaign as he was running for president next year. Of course, you were used to this and gave him a kiss bye as you started your day with the festivities that you used to do back in your home.

By the time Coriolanus came home, it was late and he assumed you were sleeping already. What he did not know was that you were still in the kitchen baking cookies and decorating gingerbread house while playing music from your record collection.

“Why are you still up so late?” Coriolanus wrapped his arms around your hips, resting his head on your shoulder.

You grin at his presence, shifting to meet his eyes. “I wanted to surprise you with cookies and a pretty gingerbread house.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” He kisses your cheek.

“I would like to think so.” You pop a gum drop into your mouth, taking one of your earlier cookies you made from the counter. “Want some?”

He hummed, opening his mouth. You broke a piece off and gave it to him, waiting for a reaction of some sort.

“Well?”

“It’s delicious.” He swallowed, reaching for the rest of the cookie in your hand. “I think I should take them all.”

You let out an airy laugh, handing him the baked good. “I think you should help me decorate this house so we can go to bed. I’m sure you’re tired, Coryo.”

———

“What are you doing now?” Coriolanus asked you as he got out of the bathroom, hair still wet. He brought the a towel to his head, watching you stand outside on the balcony. “My love, you’re going to catch a cold staying out there.”

“I know…” You mess with your silk robe, rubbing the sleeve with your thumb. “Just give me a few more seconds. I want to check off the last thing I used to do back in 12 for Christmas Eve.”

He refrained from scoffing at the mention of District 12, slipping one arm around your waist. “You don’t remember how bad it was back there before I saved you? Why do things that bring back memories of those days being treated like a peasant?”

You stayed quiet, listening to his words intently.

“I believe you should be grateful you aren’t spending time in the freezing weather and instead participate in the fun activities in the Capitol. Where you belong.” He pecked your cheek. “Unless you want to go back… Then that can easily be arranged.”

“No, don’t.” You frown, looking up at the shining moon. “I love it here. A lot. And, I’m really grateful for it, really.”

“Good answer.” He runs his hand up to your chin, tilting it so you would face him. “Just this one thing and then come to bed, okay?”

You nod, pecking his lips. “Thank you… Love you.”

Coriolanus smiles at you, pressing one last tentative kiss to your lips and leaving for the bed, not bothering to take the time to understand what you were doing.

Leaning against the cement railings, your focus moves back to the bright moon, smiling sadly at it.

“I promise I’ll be back and see you again…” You whisper into the crisp, night air, the wind lightly blowing at your skin. “We’ll be okay. Just watch over mom for me. I’ll see you both again.”

You check your watch for the time, the second hand hitting the twelve. “From your somewhat cool older sister: Merry Christmas, Dante Everdeen.”

read more about coriolanus snow here !!

a/n pt2: MING BLOWING 🤯 she’s related to katniss, isn’t that silly :)

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[hotwritergf]

you could write a one shot where the reader (who is part of the bau) always acquits or does what Spencer says, letting him talk for hours and Do you also write down facts that you find interesting? I think that's a very nice thing. (also if there is some smut afterwards I don't complain somehow).

p.s. I love your stories<3

Pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape🍇

(Hi! I’m sorry I know I don’t usually add comments onto my fics anymore but I just needed to say that I loved writing this. This concept was so fun to write and I’m quite happy with how it came out.)

“How is everything you say somehow so profound but yet so socially inept?” You chuckle, shaking your head through your laughter as you look up at him. Spencer laughs along with you sarcastically, an unamused fake grin painted on his face. He takes a step closer to you, lifting the umbrella over your head, protecting you from the unforgiving Quantico rain. Spencer leads you forward, guiding you with his hand on your lower back as he rubs his palm against your damp jacket. “Back to my place?” You speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “We’ll get sick if we’re out in the rain too long Spence.” Accepting your offer he links his arm around yours and you begin to walk down the street together. “Sickness is not directly caused by rain, but being outside in rainy conditions could increase your exposure to airborne viruses that might be present.” Spencer explains in his trademark, matter of fact tone. Giggling, as you fiddle with your keys, searching for the right one to unlock your apartment door. He sneaks them out of your hand, inspecting the lock on your door and the keys in hand, picks out the correct key and unlocks the door with a timid smile. “Clean towels in the bathroom if you want to dry yourself off.” You recommend him the blue one, it’s new and fluffy and completely unused, knowing he’s more likely to feel comfortable with the knowledge that it’s new. You want him to feel nothing less than comfortable. Spencer nods his head and makes his way to the bathroom. At the loss of his presence you reach into your bag, pulling out your notebook and pen. Scribbling down some nonsense as a scrappy, badly written diary entry as quickly as you can. Your journals were the one thing that held every detail of your life, not even your social media pages held that much information on you. You dot your i’s and cross your t’s, swiftly closing the book and burrowing it inside your handbag again.

A few days pass and you’re not feeling up to scratch. With the pharmacy not filling your prescription, mixed with the depths of your unrelenting depressing you’re struggling to keep your head above water. The files of paperwork stack up higher than they should on your desk, coffee rings stain the wood on your desk as it wobbles under your writing. Each case seemed to be more emotionally demanding than the last. But there was Spencer. He stumbles over to you, clumsy and un-spatially aware as ever, placing a bag of baked goods in front of you. The smell of cinnamon hits you immediately and you melt into the back of your chair, your lips pin up into a beaming smile. The monster in your head silencing just for a moment under the soft, dulcet act of Reid. “You’ve- you’ve seemed down. I didn’t want to pry incase you didn’t want to share, but sugar stimulates feel-good endorphins associated with reward. So, cinnamon buns!” He announced, his voice airy and angelic as he scratches the back of his head with his left hand; his right fiddling with the buttons on the stomach of his cardigan. He needn’t say anything more, the smile on your face and your back finally resting against the chair, regaining posture, says all the gratitude he needs. Spencer simply taps the bag on your desk with a grin and returns to his desk. Not only did he leave you with a sugary treat, he left with you with more of off the top of his head statistics that you couldn’t get enough of. Each one of them showing he cares, he thinks of you. He puts thought into everything he says, whether or not his words land with the people he speaks to is irrelevant. He shows he cares in his own unique way and you simply cannot get enough of it, you find your journal once more, leaving todays page decorated with his facts about sugar. Reaching into the bag from the local bakery, you take out your bun, wrapping the base with the napkin. With your first bite, you grin. Even if it didn’t ‘stimulate your endorphins’ it still tasted like heaven.

Friday night rolled around eventually, this week had felt never-ending. Slotted next to Spencer on the jet, you reach out and poke his side, demanding his attention. He jerks back with a giggle, you always forget he never grew out of being ticklish. You smirk and tease, “Oh right… ticklish. I forget you’re a little baby.” His cheek gain a new pink blush that reaches all the way to the tips of his ears. “You can’t grow out of your nerve endings in your skin sending electrical signals to the somatosensory cortex. Plus- most adults are t-ticklish.” He stutters over his words, almost as if they are too shy to be spoken. His hands rise to protect himself as your fingers threaten to poke him again, he chuckles in anticipation. “Whatever you say genius, deny it all you want. It’s still adorable.” Your voice soft and teasing as you smirk at him again. “Movie night tomorrow?” You suggest, your hands moving back to your lap as he begins to re-adjust himself and relax. Spencer nods, “Can we watch Star Wars?” He asks, sounding like an excited puppy. You roll your eyes playfully and smile, “Fine. As long as its Revenge of the Sith.” Spence chuckles, shaking his head and rises from his seat, heading to the jet bathroom. As is your new routine, your diary finds its way to the table in front of you. Scrambling to write today’s entry before Spencer returns, you try to remember his every word as you write. As you hear the door unlock you practically throw the book behind you and sit in front of it. Praying that the man with the 187 IQ doesn’t notice, should be fine, right?

Settling the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, you get the TV set up ready for Spencer’s arrival. Everything is perfect, you’d bought his favourite popcorn, salted obviously. You’d also brewed a pot of the tea you’d made him last time, it was just English Breakfast tea but he’d sworn it was mind-blowing. The door is knocked, three times, Spencer’s lucky number. “It’s open!” You bellow your voice and put your feet up onto the sofa. Spence walks in, lifting your legs and placing them down on his lap when he settles next to you. He places his bag down on the floor beside him, but something bashes against it. Reaching down to find the offending item, you find its your journal. “Hey, y/n. I think you left this book on the floor. Where does it live so I can put it back in its rightful home?” He questions, you feel the blood drain out of your face, you pale immediately. “No- its okay! Just gimmie.” You respond, but he notices your shaking hands reaching out to snatch it. Spencer pulls away, opening the first page. “What are these huh?” He teases uncharacteristically. “You writing little love letters?” He jokes, before looking down at the pages and blushing when he reads his own name. He reads at an alarming speed at the best of times, but when he’s transfixed on text, he can read even faster.

“You’re- you’re writing about me? I said every word here.” Spencer’s eyes widen, the hazel irises expanding as he turns the pages rapidly and skims the text. “Oh you just had to write that. Didn’t you?” He chuckles, reading your interactions from yesterday on the jet. “I. I just find you interesting Spencer. I know everyone teases you and interrupts you when you speak, I know they don’t appreciate you enough. They take your words for granted, even when they’re so profound.” Your pale face begins to blush, it was enough that Spencer had read your private diary, but having to admit your feelings that you’ve been trying to repress and ignore, it was seemingly impossible. “I want to remember the things you say because they’re important, and every time you say something personal to me, I want to treasure it. Bottle it and keep it forever, you know?”

Spencer, for once, is at a loss for words. His cheeks burning under the heat of his blush, he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. His brain searching for anything to say, its like he’s frantically looking through the filing cabinet of words in his head and still coming up empty. With no vocabulary on his tongue, he leans forward and crashes his lips into yours. They’re soft and ample, featherlight against your own. No concerns of the lip gloss smearing and decorating his lips. Pulling away with a confused expression, “Spencer?” Your one word question is all you can say as you run your fingers through his hair. Your nails scratching against the back of his head softly and he leans into your touch wanting more. “I can’t help myself. I’ll stop if you want, if you didn’t want that I apologise profusely and I take full responsibility of my actions and I’ll do anything to make it up to you…” He gets in his own head about the moment just gone. “No, I definitely wanted that. Definitely.” You smile cheekily, rubbing your thumb against his heated cheeks. Spencer leans in once more, gasping into your mouth trying to dig deeper and deeper into your soul. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this. I just don’t- I don’t know how to get here. You know?” He explains, his hands find the small of your back and pull you closer to him. Your index finger reaches up, shh-ing against his lips. Silencing him to keep him from rambling for the first time ever. You scramble up onto his lap, leaning over him playfully. “You’re perfect Spencer Reid. Without even knowing it you’ve taken care of me for years. Let me take care of you.”

You roll your hips slowly underneath him, smirking as he fiddles with the back of your bra strap. Even with an IQ of 187 he can’t figure out how to unbuckle a bra. You smirk and let out a giggle and he blushes, “So needy already?” You tease, your voice hoarse and desperate. He grips onto your hips as if he’s deprived, pushing into your lips, kissing you like a man starved. Spencer’s breath is shaky and weak, you take his chin into your thumb and forefinger, lifting it up, deepening the kiss. “I want you.” He speaks shakily, “I know. I want you too.” You say, holding his cheeks in the palms of your hands. Rutting your hips against his bulge again, he convulses underneath you. He gasps and rushes his hand over his mouth and you know what’s happened. Not wanting to embarrassed him, you slide off of him. Slotting yourself next to him on the couch, trying to figure out the social expectation is when your crush finishes in his boxers before you’ve even touched him. You settle on pulling him into a cuddle, rubbing your palm up and down his back, feeling his boney spine through his skin. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and full of adoration, looking like pools of honey. “I need a few minutes, and maybe some of your magic tea.” He chuckles and you sigh in relief at the self depreciating humour he responds to the situation with. “Of course pretty boy.” You press your lips on the top of his forehead softly, breathing in his shampoo and cologne. He smells like coconut and sweetness. You jokingly reach out for your journal. “Today Spencer ended up cumming in his boxers.” You giggle together, your bodies rising and falling with each breath and your legs intertwined. The next hour could take a lifetime to arrive and you’d be a-okay with that.

[slu7formen]

Luke will find any excuse to be next to you, even if it’s risky for your secret situation.

slu7formen’s masterlist | luke castellan masterlist

The sun beat down on Camp Half-Blood with the fury of a thousand fires, turning the asphalt paths into giant grills for slow feet and baking the cabins insides like ovens. Chiron, being the smart centaur he is and reading the campers tired and sweaty faces like a book, declared a day off. Now the beach, usually a chill place to be at, was now a scene of joyous chaos. Laughter and shrieks echoed through the air as campers splashed, sunbathed, and competed on swimming races.

Luke, however, walked in much later, his usual smirk plastered on his face. As he approached his spot that he shared with his friends at the top of a large rock, he found his friends sprawled like a pack of sardines, their bodies glistening with water and their eyes glued to the opposite side.

“What´s so interesting over there?” he asked as he placed his own towel and belongings on his spot, right at the edge of the rock.

"Interesting?" Travis Stoll drawled, his voice breaking. "That´s not-, that doesn´t even cover it. It's like the goddess of beauty herself decided to show us how perfect her daughters are"

"Goddesses, Luke" Connor Stoll sighed dramatically, almost drooling as he didn´t even turned his head towards his friend. "Actual goddesses descended from Olympus”

Luke followed their gazes, his smirk widening as he saw the object of their collective obsession. Across the shimmering expanse of the water, a group of Aphrodite's daughters had claimed their own little oasis down on the sand. They lay draped on plush towels like exotic flowers basking in the sun, their designer sunglasses reflecting the harsh glare.

Pink bikinis, strategically revealing hidden curves and glimpses of sun-kissed skin that whispered tan lines just waiting to be discovered. Satisfied sighs escaped their lips as they surrendered to the heat, their bodies molding to the soft embrace of the towels like warm clay. Their laughter, light and airy, drifted across the water, punctuated by the clinking of ice against glass as they sipped chilled fruit juice. Perfect, rounded cherry red lips, glossed with a hint of shimmering pink, seemed to hum a silent song of invitation to those who stared too long. Lips that begged to be kissed, to taste the sweetness of a handsome camper.

Soft pop music, like a flirty summer breeze, carried the melody of carefree days and endless possibilities. The air crackled with a tension as subtle as the scent of sunscreen and coconut oil that easily reached the boys´s nostrils.

"Pink" Travis groaned, his voice thick with mock despair. "Why is everything so pink?"

Chris Rodriguez, his eyes glued to the scene across the beach, barely registered his friend's complaint. "Shh, dude, you´re interrupting"

Luke, however, couldn't help but chuckle at his friend´s dramatic comments. He scanned the scene for a second before taking a seat on his towel – the plush towels, the designer sunglasses, the perfectly manicured nails, the hair shimmering with highlights. It was a picture straight out of a beauty magazine, for sure, but it was starting to feel suffocating.

"Do you think they ever breathe?" Connor whispered.

"Doubt it" Travis chimed in, finally blinking after what felt like hours. "They probably absorb sunlight and flower perfume through their skin"

Chris snorted. "They're daughters of the goddess of beauty and love, what can you expect? They're-…"

He cut himself off, his gaze landing on one figure in particular. A girl with hair the color of spun sunshine and eyes that sparkled like the Mediterranean Sea.

“…Gods, look at that hair”

"Guys, calm down" Luke said, despite the grin threatening to split his face. "They're just girls.” He pointed out. He would´ve stopped the conversation there if it wasn´t for his friends´s stares right after he stopped talking, all of them sharing that ´Are you kidding?´ look. “Well, okay, maybe incredibly beautiful, impossibly glamorous girls, but still just girls."

"Just girls, huh?" Travis scoffed. "Those are your average looking campers? They look like they bathe in rosewater"

Chris, still mesmerized by the girl with the sun-kissed hair, chimed in, "How do you even begin to approach something like that?"

Luke chuckled, watching their exaggerated reactions with amusement. "It's not that hard, you know," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Maybe if you guys spent less time staring and more time talking, you wouldn't be so intimidated."

The challenge hung in the air, a silent dare for them to prove him wrong. Connor, ever the instigator, jumped on the opportunity.

"Alright, Castellan, if it's so easy for you, do it" he smirked. "Go over there and talk to any one of them, impress them, make them laugh, do whatever you need to do to avoid getting your ass kicked”

His brother chuckled. "Let the man have his delusions, dude. He´s not-“ He stopped mid-sentence, jaw dropping open in a display of cartoonish shock.

Chris, following Travis's gaze, mirrored his friend's expression. They all stared at Luke, their eyes wide with disbelief, as he strolled down the rock towards the group of Aphrodite's daughters with a —questionable— confidence.

"What the hell are you doing?" Connor yelled, his voice squeaking.

Ignoring his friends' stunned shouts, Luke descended the rocky outcrop towards the sand. "Castellan, you madman!" Chris hollered, his voice a mix of shock and admiration. Luke wasn´t nervous, not exactly. More like a mix of excitement and the thrill of pushing boundaries. His gaze focused on the girl that was declared as his target. You.

With your hair long enough to be braided with endless flowers, and eyes that held the sparkle of the brightest diamond, were oblivious to his approach, your attention consumed by adjusting the straps of your pink bikini, a delicate task that showcased the smooth expanse of your shoulders and the tantalizing dip of your back.

He gently placed his hands on your shoulders, the heat radiating from your sun-kissed skin was intoxicating, the delicate scent of coconut oil amplifying his senses. His fingers, strong and calloused, squeezed gently, sending shivers down your spine.

"Hey, princess" he said, his voice low and playful.

You turned around, smile blooming like a summer flower as you met his gaze. "Luke" you greeted, your voice laced with a hint of surprise.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked with gentle charm.

"Of course" you replied, patting the space beside you on the towel. “Thought you were only gonna stare all day”

“Why?” he asked, not exactly trying to play dumb.

“Let´s just say that they´re a little too obvious” one of your sisters said, pointing with her chin towards the other side of the beach, where Travis, Connor and Chris, still stared at the scene with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Yeah, well” Luke started. “The scenery is definitely something" he admitted, his gaze lingering on yours for a beat too long. "But I´m the one interested in company, not just staring"

One of your sisters raised her view from the magazine she was reading, an approval head nod towards your direction.

"Smooth, Castellan" you cooed, unable to hide the pink blush on your cheeks. "Well done”

Your conversation flowed effortlessly, a mix of lighthearted banter and teasing remarks that only you two fully understood. You spoke of your day as your voices dropped to hushed tones when you exchanged details of your recent secret night encounters, and reminisced about stolen kisses exchanged in the quiet corners of the camp.

He then reached for a slice of pineapple.

"Care for some?" he offered, extending a piece of pineapple towards your mouth.

"Thank you" you said, gracefully taking the fruit between your lips, eyes on him the whole time, still shining even under your dark sunglasses. His thumb caught a bit of your lower lip, secretly wishing he could taste your lips right there and then.

You leaned back, savoring the sweetness of the pineapple and the stolen touch of Luke's finger on you. His gaze held yours, along with a red blush creeping up his neck.

Across the beach, right on the other corner over a hot rock, the Stoll brothers and Chris remained frozen in disbelief, practically jaw slacked.

"D-did he just-?" Travis stutered.

"Touch her?" Connor finished, his own voice thick with shock. "Like they´re friends?"

"Friends?" Chris scoffed. "Is that how you think that friends behave? As if they-"

His sentence was cut short as a giggle, light and mesmerizing, drifted across the water. Their eyes darted back to the scene, where Luke and yn were now engaged in what appeared to be a lively conversation. Luke, the now notorious ladies' man and best swordsman, was leaning in close, his hand resting casually on her lower back. yn, the living proof of cabin 10's grace and beauty, was radiating amusement as her fingers made their way to Luke´s curls.

“Well…” Chris began. “He actually doesn't look half bad talking to her."

"Yeah" Connor conceded, his brow furrowed in thought. "But how? Since when do they know each other and get so-, touchy?"

"Maybe they share some extra classes together" Travis offered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Like... 'Advanced Flirting Techniques for Demigods' or something."

As the boys focused more about Luke´s flirting technique and less on the girls, your conversation with Luke kept going on and on, still fresh as the fruits you were enjoying, and as exciting as the hot sun crashing into your skin like golden liquid.

"You know," you said, leaving a piece of watermelon back on its place as you whispered, low enough for only you and Luke to hear. "you're not supposed to be here."

Luke tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"

"You're not supposed to be talking to me" you continued, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Not after last night."

A slow grin spread across Luke's face, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Last night was quite a night, wasn´t it?" he admitted, his breath tickling your ear. "Could you make it better tonight?"

You looked at him with confused eyes. His thumb began to draw circles on your lower back. "Tonight?" you said, feigning innocence. "Do we have plans? I hadn't heard anything about it."

Luke's grin widened. "Well, it´s not like I planned it" he admitted, his voice becoming casual. You knew he has lying, of course he planned it. "But I was hoping you might be interested in meeting again"

"Another meeting, huh?" you repeated, your voice dripping with curiosity. "What kind of meeting are we talking about?"

Luke leaned in closer to your ear. "Does my cabin sound familiar to you?"

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within you. You both knew that sneaking out after curfew was risky, specially into someone else´s cabin, but the thought of spending another stolen night with Luke was simply irresistible.

“That could work” you managed to say. “What else?”

A playful and excited sparkle flickered in his eyes. "Bring something sweet" he whispered, a low rumble emanating from his chest. He momentarily eyed the untouched red strawberries. "Meet me by the west side after everyone's at the campfire. We can enjoy the view and then..." he trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, his gaze dropping to your lips.

The heat of the sun seemed to intensify, mirroring the warmth rising in your cheeks. "And then?" you prompted, unable to resist teasing him a bit.

"And then," he leaned even closer, his voice barely a breath, "we can continue what we started last night."

Your breath hitched. The memory of his touch, his kisses, sent a wave of desire through you. You knew sneaking out was forbidden, a risk that could lead to serious consequences, but Gods, who cares?

"Alright, big boy" you whispered, a playful smile dancing on your lips before standing up, starting your way into the lake for your own heated situation. “See you later, then"

[lsdoiphin]

Foods of Vestur

@broncoburro and @chocodile provoked me into doing some illustrated worldbuilding for Forever Gold ( @forevergoldgame ), an endeavor I was happy to undertake. Unbeknownst to me, it would take the better part of a week to draw.

In the process, I conjured about an essay's worth of fantasy food worldbuilding, but I'm going to try and keep things digestible (pardon my pun). Lore under the cut:

The Middle Kingdom

The Middle Kingdom has ample land, and its soil, landscapes, and temperate climate are amenable to growing a variety of crops and raising large quantities of livestock. The Midland palate prefers fresh ingredients with minimal seasoning; if a dish requires a strong taste, a cook is more likely to reach for a sharp cheese than they are to open their spice drawer. Detractors of Middle Kingdom cuisine describe it as bland, but its flavor relies on the quality of its components more than anything.

KEY CROPS: wheat, potatoes, carrots, green beans, apples, pears, and grapes KEY LIVESTOCK: Midland goats, fowl, and hogs

ROAST FOWL: Cheap and easy to raise, fowl is eaten all over Vestur and by all classes. Roasted whole birds are common throughout, but the Middle Kingdom's approach to preparation is notable for their squeamish insistence on removing the head and neck before roasting, even among poorer families. Fowl is usually roasted on a bed of root vegetables and shallots and served alongside gravy and green beans.

GOAT RIBEYE: Vestur does not have cattle – instead it has a widely diversified array of goats, the most prominent being the Middle Kingdom's own Midland goat. The Midland goat is a huge caprid that fills the same niche as cattle, supplying Vestur with meat and dairy products. Chevon from the Midland goat is tender with a texture much like beef, though it retains a gamier, “goat-ier” taste. It is largely eaten by the wealthy, though the tougher and cheaper cuts can be found in the kitchens of the working class. Either way, it is almost always served with gravy. (You may be sensing a pattern already here. Midlanders love their gravy.)

FETTUCCINE WITH CHEESE: Noodles were brought to the Middle Kingdom through trade with the South and gained popularity as a novel alternative to bread. The pasta of Midland Vestur is largely eaten with butter or cream sauce; tomato or pesto sauces are seldom seen.

CHARCUTERIE WITH WINE: Charcuterie is eaten for the joy of flavors rather than to satiate hunger, and therefore it is mainly eaten by the upper class. It is commonly eaten alongside grape wine, a prestigious alcohol uniquely produced by the Middle Kingdom. The flavor of grape wine is said to be more agreeable than the other wines in Vestur, though Southern pineapple wine has its share of defenders.

BREAD WITH JAM AND PRESERVES, TEA SANDWICHES, & ROSETTE CAKE: Breads and pastries are big in the Middle Kingdom. The Middle Kingdom considers itself the world leader in the art of baking. Compared to its neighbors, the baked goods they make are soft, light, and airy and they are proud of it. Cakes in particular are a point of ego and a minor source of mania among nobility; it is a well-established cultural joke that a Middle Kingdom noble cannot suffer his neighbor serving a bigger, taller cake. The cakes at Middle Kingdom parties can reach nauseatingly wasteful and absurdist heights, and there is no sign of this trend relenting any time soon.

CHOWDER, FARMER'S POT PIE, GRIDDLECAKES, EGGS, CURED MEATS: If you have the means to eat at all in the Middle Kingdom, you are probably eating well. Due to the Midland's agricultural strength, even peasant dishes are dense and filling. Eggs and cured meats are abundant, cheaper, and more shelf stable than fresh cuts and provide reprieve from the unending wheat and dairy in the Midland diet.

STEWED APPLES AND PEARS, JAM AND PRESERVES: The Midland grows a number of different fruits, with apples and pears being the most plentiful. In a good year, there will be more fruit than anyone knows what to do with, and so jams and preserves are widely available. Stewed fruit has also gained popularity, especially since trade with the Southern Kingdom ensures a stable supply of sugar and cinnamon.

NORTHERN KINGDOM - SETTLED

The Northern Kingdom is a harsh and unforgiving land. Historically, its peoples lived a nomadic life, but since the unification of the Tri-Kingdom more and more of the Northern population have opted to live a settled life. The “settled North” leads a hard life trying to make agriculture work on the tundra, but it is possible with the help of green meur. The Northern palate leans heavily on preserved and fermented foods as well as the heat from the native tundra peppers. Outsiders often have a hard time stomaching the salt, tang, and spice of Northern cuisine and it is widely considered “scary.”

KEY CROPS: potatoes, beets, carrots, tundra pepper KEY LIVESTOCK: wooly goats, hares*

GOAT POT ROAST: Life up north is hard work and there is much to be done in a day. Thus, slow cooked one-pot meals that simmer throughout the day are quite common.

VENISON WITH PICKLES: Game meat appears in Northern dishes about as much as farmed meat – or sometimes even more, depending on the location. Even “classier” Northern dishes will sometimes choose game meat over domesticated, as is the case with the beloved venison with pickles. Cuts of brined venison are spread over a bed of butter-fried potato slices and potent, spicy pickled peppers and onions. The potatoes are meant to cut some of the saltiness of the dish, but... most foreigners just say it tastes like salt, vinegar, and burning.

MINER STEW: While outsiders often have a hard time distinguishing miner stew from the multitude of beet-tinged stews and pot roasts, the taste difference is unmistakable. Miner's stew is a poverty meal consisting of pickles and salt pork and whatever else is might be edible and available. The end result is a sad bowl of scraps that tastes like salt and reeks of vinegar. The popular myth is that the dish got its name because the Northern poor began putting actual rocks in it to fill out the meal, which... probably never happened, but facts aren't going to stop people from repeating punchy myths.

RYE TOAST WITH ONION JAM: Rye is hardier than wheat, and so rye bread is the most common variety in the North. Compared to Midland bread, Northern bread is dense and gritty. It is less likely to be enjoyed on its own than Midland bread, both because of its composition and because there's less to put on it. Unless you've the money to import fruit spreads from further south, you're stuck with Northern jams such as onion or pepper jam. Both have their appreciators, but bear little resemblance to the fruit and berry preserves available elsewhere in Vestur.

HARE DAIRY: Eating hare meat is prohibited in polite society due to its association with the haretouched and heretical nomadic folk religions, but hare dairy is fair game. Hare cheese ranges from black to plum in color, is strangely odorless, and has a pungent flavor akin to a strong blue cheese. It is the least contentious of hare milk products. Hare milk, on the other hand, is mildly toxic. If one is not acclimated to hare milk, drinking it will likely make them “milk sick” and induce vomiting. It is rarely drunk raw, and is instead fermented into an alcoholic drink similar to kumis.

MAPLE HARES AND NOMAD CANDY: Maple syrup is essentially the only local sweetener available in the North, and so it is the primary flavor of every Northern dessert. Simple maple candies are the most common type of sweet, though candied tundra peppers – known as “nomad candy” – is quite popular as well. (Despite its name, nomad candy is an invention of the settled North and was never made by nomads.)

TUNSUKH: Tunsukh is one of the few traditions from the nomadic era still widely (and openly) practiced among Northern nobility. It is a ceremonial dinner meant as a test of strength and endurance between political leaders: a brutally spiced multi-course meal, with each course being more painful than the last. Whoever finishes the dinner with a stoic, tear-streaked face triumphs; anyone who cries out in pain or reaches for a glass of milk admits defeat. “Dessert” consists of a bowl of plain, boiled potatoes. After the onslaught of tunsukh, it is sweeter than any cake.

NORTHERN KINGDOM – NOMADIC NORTH

Although the Old Ways are in decline, the nomadic clans still live in the far North beyond any land worth settling. They travel on hareback across the frozen wasteland seeking “meur fonts” - paradoxical bursts of meur that erupt from the ice and provide momentary reprieve from the harsh environment. The taste of nomad food is not well documented.

KEY CROPS: N/A KEY LIVESTOCK: hares

PEMMICAN: Nomadic life offers few guarantees. With its caloric density and functionally indefinite “shelf life,” pemmican is about as close as one can get.

SEAL, MOOSE: Meat comprises the vast majority of the nomadic diet and is eaten a variety of ways. Depending on the clan, season, and availability of meur fonts, meat may be cooked, smoked, turned to jerky, or eaten raw. Moose and seal are the most common sources of meat, but each comes with its own challenges. Moose are massive, violent creatures and dangerous to take down even with the aid of hares; seals are slippery to hunt and only live along the coasts.

WANDER FOOD, WANDER STEW: When a green meur font appears, a lush jungle springs forth around it. The heat from red meur fonts may melt ice and create opportunities for fishing where there weren't before. Any food obtained from a font is known as “wander food.” Wander food is both familiar and alien; the nomads have lived by fonts long enough to know what is edible and what is not, but they may not know the common names or preparation methods for the food they find. Fish is simple enough to cook, but produce is less predictable. Meur fonts are temporary, and it's not guaranteed that you'll ever find the same produce twice - there is little room to experiment and learn. As a result, a lot of wander food is simply thrown into a pot and boiled into “wander stew,” an indescribable dish which is different each time.

CENVAVESH: When a haretouched person dies, their hare is gripped with the insatiable compulsion to eat its former companion... therefore, it is only proper to return the favor. Barring injury or illness, a bonded hare will almost always outlive its bonded human, and so the death of one's hare is considered a great tragedy among nomads. The haretouched – and anyone they may invite to join them – sits beside the head of their hare as they consume as much of its rib and organ meat as they can. Meanwhile, the rest of the clan processes the remainder of the hare's carcass so that none of it goes to waste. It is a somber affair that is treated with the same gravity as the passing of a human. Cenvavesh is outlawed as a pagan practice in the settled North.

HARE WINE: While fermented hare's milk is already alcoholic, further fermentation turns it into a vivid hallucinogen. This “hare wine” is used in a number of nomad rituals, most notably during coming of age ceremonies. Allegedly, it bestows its drinker with a hare's intuition and keen sense of direction... of course, truth is difficult to distinguish from fiction when it comes to the Old Ways.

SOUTHERN KINGDOM

The Southern Kingdom is mainly comprised of coast, wetland, and ever-shrinking jungle. While the land is mostly unfit for large-scale agriculture, seafood is plentiful and the hot climate is perfect for exorbitant niche crops. What they can't grow, they obtain easily through trade. Southerners have a reputation for eating anything, as well as stealing dishes from other cultures and “ruining” them with their own interpretations. KEY CROPS: plantains, sweet potato, pineapple, mango, guava, sugarcane KEY LIVESTOCK: fowl, marsh hogs, seals

GLAZED EEL WITH FRIED PLANTAINS: A very common configuration for Southern food is a glazed meat paired with a fried vegetable. It almost doesn't matter which meat and which vegetable it is – they love their fried food and they love their sweet and salty sauces in the South. Eel is a culturally beloved meat, much to the shock and confusion of visiting Midlanders.

NARWHAL STEW: Narwhal stew is the South's “anything goes” stew. It does not actually contain narwhal meat, as they are extinct (though the upper class may include dolphin meat as a protein) – instead, the name comes from its traditional status as a “forever soup,” as narwhals are associated with the passage of time in Southern culture. Even in the present day, Southern monasteries tend massive, ever-boiling pots of perpetual stew in order to feed the monks and sybils who live there. Narwhal stew has a clear kelp-based broth and usually contains shellfish. Beyond that, its ingredients are extremely varied. Noodles are a popular but recent addition.

FORAGE: The dish known as “forage” is likewise not foraged, or at least, it hasn't been forage-based in a good hundred years at least. Forage is a lot like poke; it's a little bit of everything thrown into a bowl. Common ingredients include fish (raw or cooked), seaweed, fried noodles, marinated egg, and small quantities of fruit.

HOT POT: Hot pot is extremely popular, across class barriers, in both the South proper and its enclave territories. This is due to its extreme flexibility - if it can be cooked in a vat of boiling broth, it will be. Crustaceans and shellfish are common choices for hot pot in the proper South, along with squid, octopus, mushrooms, and greens.

FLATBREAD: The Southern Kingdom doesn't do much baking. The vast majority of breads are fried, unleavened flatbreads, which are usually eaten alongside soups or as wraps. Wraps come in both savory and sweet varieties; savory wraps are usually stuffed with shredded pork and greens while sweet wraps – which are much more expensive – are filled with fruit and seal cheese.

GRILLED SKEWERS, ROAST SWEET POTATO: While a novel concept for Midlanders and Northerners, street food has long been a part of Southern Kingdom culture. You would be hard pressed to find a Southern market that didn't have at least three vendors pushing grilled or fried something or other. Skewers are the most common and come in countless configurations, but roast sweet potatoes are a close second.

CUT FRUIT AND SEAL CHEESE: Fresh fruit is popular in the South, both local and imported. While delicious on its own, Southerners famously pair it with seal cheese. Which leads me to an important topic of discussion I don't have room for anywhere else...

THE SOUTH AND CHEESE: Since the South doesn't have much in the way of dairy farming, cheese is somewhat rare in their cuisine – but it is present. And important. Cheese is the domain of the Church. Common goat dairy imported from the Middle Kingdom is turned to cheese by monks in Southern monasteries and sold to the Southern public, yes, but as you have noticed there is another cheese prominent in the Southern Kingdom diet: seal cheese. Seal cheese is unlike anything else that has ever been called cheese; the closest it can be compared to is mascarpone. It is is a soft, creamy cheese with a mild flavor and an indulgent fat content. It is used almost exclusively as a dessert, though it is only ever mildly sweetened if at all. It is extremely costly and held in high regard; the most religious Southerners regard it as holy. Dairy seals are a very rare animal and raised exclusively in a small number of Cetolist-Cerostian monasteries, where they are tended and milked by the monks. Due to their status as a holy animal, eating seal meat is forbidden. Eating their cheese and rendering their tallow into soap is fine though.

(HEARTLAND SOUTH) SOUTH-STYLE GOAT: The Heartland South is a Southern enclave territory in the Middle Kingdom. Visiting Midland dignitaries oft wrongly assume that because the Heartland South is in Middle Kingdom territory, Heartland Southerners eat the same food they do exactly as they do. They are horrified to find that familiar sounding dishes like “goat with potatoes” are completely and utterly unrecognizable, drenched in unfamiliar sauces and spices and served alongside fruit they've never eaten. Meanwhile, Heartland Southerners firmly believe that they have fixed the Middle Kingdom's boring food.

(BOREAL SOUTH) “TUNSUKH”: If Midlanders are afraid of Heartland Southern food, Northerners are absolutely furious about cuisine from the Boreal South - the most legendarily offensive being the Boreal South's idea of “tunsukh.” Southerners are no stranger to spice, so when Southern traders began interacting with the North, they liked tunsukh! It's just... they thought it needed a little Southern help to become a real meal, you know? A side of seal cheese soothed the burn and made the meal enjoyable. And because the meal was enjoyable, the portion sizes increased. And plain boiled potatoes? Well, those are a little too plain – creamy mashed sweet potato feels like more of a dessert, doesn't it? ...For some reason, Northerners didn't agree, but that's okay. The Boreal South knows they're just embarrassed they didn't think of pairing seal cheese with tunsukh sooner.

ARMY RATIONS

The food eaten by the King's Army is about what you would expect for late 1700s military; salt pork or salt chevon, hard tack, and coffee. The biggest divergence they have is also one of Vestur's biggest points of pride: they have the means to supply their troops with frivolous luxuries like small tins of candied fruit from the Midland. A love of candied fruit is essentially a Vesturian military proto-meme; proof that they serve the greatest Tri-Kingdom on the planet. Don't get between a military man and his candied fruit unless you want a fight.