#and when I have it's been apricots

[kyofsonder]

Happy STS! If you had to throw one of your characters into another world, which one would you choose? Would they thrive or hate it?

I'm a week late, but happy STS and thank you for this ask!

A lot of my characters travel between worlds/timelines as part of their stories, so they're more or less used to navigating new surroundings and learning new rules.

That said, out of the handful who don't travel, I think I'd like to send Micah (one of the main characters in To Be Honest, a sentimental witch who refuses to admit he's sentimental) to a world where his magic doesn't work. He's already thrown for a loop when he finds someone who's immune to it, being in an environment where he can't use it on anyone at all would make him question his entire identity and his place in the universe.

At the same time, it would give him a break from the expectations usually placed on him. He wouldn't have to fit into anyone's vision of who he's supposed to be. He could relax a little. I'd like to explore that combination of an identity crisis and a vacation for him.

[luveline]

i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid i’m literally frothing at the mouth 🙏

ty for ur request :D fem!reader

"Emily," you say weakly. "What is that?" 

Emily looks up from her desk, clearly desperate for a distraction, the lip of her coffee mug against painted lips. "What's what?" 

"That." You point. You feel sick to your stomach. "That right there." 

"Oh," Emily says happily. "You finally noticed. Yeah, Spence forgot to renew his contact prescription. He has to wear glasses for two weeks." 

Spencer stands by the photocopier with a perturbed frown, clicking a button, then another. His brow is furrowed and his hair is falling into his eyes. He has the stupidest, dorkiest, prettiest face, and practically every expression he makes has you weak in the knees.

"That long?" you ask. 

Derek looks up in concern at your pained tone, following the line of your eyes. When he realises what it is that's hurt you so, he skirts around the desk to shake your shoulder. "You could always tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'd keep the lenses forever if he knew you liked them." 

"I don't like them," you say. You sound faraway to your own ears. You hate them. They're gonna be your demise. 

Spencer runs a fingertip across the photocopier's screen, in his own world as the machine finally begins to chug out whatever it is he'd been wanting a duplicate of. The frames of his glasses sit snug on his nose. You can tell from even this distance that the lenses make his eyes look a tiny bit smaller. You could probably point out a misplaced freckle if he asked you to.

"Don't be cruel, he looks cute," Emily teases. 

Spencer collects his papers, shuffling them into a straight line as he makes his way back to the bullpen. You pretend to take interest in Emily's things. She sips her coffee too nonchalantly. Derek doesn't even bother pretending. 

"What?" Spencer asks, swift to spot your suspicious behaviours. "Is it the glasses?" 

You wince. "Of course not. You look… you look really nice, Spence." 

"You know he used to wear 'em every day?" Derek asks.

You would've died. "Before I joined?" 

"For a few years," Spencer says, looking you over. "You're unhappy. Is something wrong?" 

He looks to Derek and Emily for confirmation. Emily stutters for an answer while Derek laughs in the background, "She– you know. She just– She missed breakfast!" 

Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose by the leg and drops his copies onto the desk. "I have dried apricot in my bag. Two seconds." 

He bends over his chair to retrieve his bag from under the desk. Your eyes blow wide at his position, the sudden demonstration of well-fitted pants. Derek's laugh echoes up to the eaves. 

"And he has that twenty four seven," Emily says against the rim of her coffee. 

You scrunch your eyes closed and tilt your head back. After a few seconds, a hand touches your elbow gently, a hesitance that comes with only one member of the BAU. "You okay?" Spencer asks. 

"I'm okay. Headache," you lie. 

Spencer presses the apricot into your hands. "Maybe you should see an optician. You know they can tell if you have a brain tumour from one photo of your sclera?" He smiles morbidly, his glasses slipping down his nose. "They measure the size of your optic disk. It takes less than a minute. I can give you the name of my doctor, if you want. She's nice. Not as nice as you." 

Your throat is so dry you can't form words to answer him. He doesn't judge your rigid nodding. 

"I'll write down the number for you. And, Y/N?" 

"Yeah?" you choke out. 

"You look really nice today, too." 

Emily has to kick you in the leg to bring you back to earth. Stupid Spencer. Stupid lovely glasses. 

[st4rbwrry]

   𝐾𝐼𝑆𝑆 𝑀𝐸 𝑇𝐼𝐿𝐿 𝐼’𝑀 𝐵𝐿𝑈𝐸.

꒰ armin takes his pretty girlfriend on a picnic in an enchanted forest.꒱

🫧 𐀔 . . . 1.4k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, established relationship, sub / dom, profanity, pet names, unprotected penetrative sex, we’re in luvvv, outside indecency, love bites, praise, kinda shy reader, smoking, kreampie, minors aren’t welcomed ! reblogs + comments are appreciated! <3

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . this been in the drafts since 2022 y’all. a lil sum.

a pastel baby blue dress clings tight to your smooth skin, looking like the prettiest cottage core girl. frills on the shoulders and bust sitting low to accentuate your perky chest. love handles and tummy pudge swallowed by the soft material. armin couldn't keep his eyes, or hands, to himself. rubbing all up on you throughout your entire picnic date. fresh air blows through the trees and the bright views of sunlight beam across the blue lake where pure white doves swam in silence. armin had found this mythical location by driving around one day. it's quiet and reserved, deep into an enchanted forest.

the two of you sat on a blanket sprawled out on the grass, enjoying the food armin neatly packed. lots of fruits because you loved them. strawberries, raspberries, pomegranates, green grapes, apricots, and peaches . . . you name it. overdoing it just a bit, but he knows it’ll be eaten by this week. this was breakfast, the time now around eleven in the morning, so while you got ready he prepped the food. heart shaped pancakes, waffles, turkey bacon, pork sausage, scrambled cheese eggs and of course never forgetting your orange juice.

to make it cuter he brought a glass vase and filled it with water and multicolor roses he bought from the flower shop. you ate so much food your stomach bloated, unable to eat anymore. armin lays on his back with you to stare up at the sky and watch the trees blow, the weather perfect for the occasion. the sun hitting your skin serenely. you rest your head on armin’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as he massages your back in gentle circles, nearly falling asleep because you’re so at peace.

“i’m so glad we did this,” a yawn escapes as you smile sweetly at him, rubbing his stomach over his white tee.

armin presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering it before mumbling, “me too.” soon, digging into his jean pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. tapping the plastic box to release a stick. your body moves with the forearm he brings together to light his cig, flicking the lighter twice and satiating his need.

“i needed a break from life. so, thank you, love.” the softness in your voice makes the man's heart beat twice as fast. he smiles at you after turning his head the opposite way to blow out smoke, knowing you hated it in your face. being at close proximity right now was less irritating since you're elated at the moment. you could care less because he's comfortable, and it makes you feel the same. you could never get him to quit no matter how hard you tried. never argued with him about it. minor debates but he gave valid points so you laid off it.

“i figured it'd be nice to escape for the day. it's upsetting we have to return to reality tomorrow. but when i'm with you, it always feels . . . free.”

armin brushes a curved knuckle over your cheekbone, your eyes glued to his own.

“i feel the same way.”

“i say i love you all the time. but do you really understand it? how deep it is?”

you curl your lips inward, pondering on his question. more like a statement.

“i know you love me. you show it more ways than one. i think that's meaningful overall.”

fluffy blond hair with gold hues covers his angelic baby blue eyes, reaching up to tuck some of the wavy ringlets behind his ear.

“tell me you love me, then gimme a kiss.”

your face grows hot from his demand, growing nervous. you sit up briefly to grab a peach to bite into and distract yourself, more like hide your face because you were smiling so hard. this happens to be the second time since he's first told you he loved you. it makes you shy even still, the rush of heat coming to your cheeks from the intense glare he gives you, waiting for you to say it. you don't know why it felt so hard to utter. it's clear you love him, but maybe it was the large commitment of the word . . . the vulnerability, the devotion, the forever tie that scared you.

"tell me you love me, or i'll make you say it, ꒰♡꒱ ."

and make you he does.

his breath is warm on your neck, tongue following to lick a bold stripe over your skin with his fingers indented into the flesh of your cheeks and jaw. your face is upturned, head resting on his shoulder, back to his chest as you rely on his body for your balance. your thighs are spread wide, holding yourself open with your unoccupied hand, gripping under the bend of your knees, whimpering in the breezy air as his hips interact with the round of your ass, fucking you from the side fervidly. his moans are light, dancing in your ear while you claw into the picnic blanket beneath you two, clutching the grass and dirt in the wake. tuning into the lewd interaction of his heavy dick pounding into you, tits bouncing out of the enclosure of your dress.

“i can’t hear you, ꒰♡꒱,” armin grits his teeth, his lips on your jaw now, kissing away and grunting as he raises his hips to fuck you deeper, thrusts steady but rough. you’re feeling dizzy, whining from the baritone of his voice. “i didn’t make myself clear enough?”

“n-no. . . ar—min. mmph,” while denying, there’s a crack in your voice as you try your best to speak, moans rumbling in your throat, your tummy jiggling from his harsh pace.

“then tell me, tell me,” armin’s voice is a whispered plead, his jeans to his knees and his shirt pulled up to his midsection, skin scorching against your own.

you’re soft, and small. his big hand with veins protruding goes from your face to your chest, tweaking your nipples that spilled out of it’s cups alluringly, before spanking them with the pads of his fingers. tweak, spank, tweak, spank. it’s a notion that has you drooling, and sobbing pathetically. he’s trying to upkeep his composure, trying not to bottom out and lose his sanity. you’re too cute.

“i love youuu,” you finally cry out, ragged moans falling out in shorts gasps, tears coaxing and the pressure in your tummy building.

“fuck, there you go, sweetie,” his excitement shows through the way his dick slips out of you, both of you gasping from the loss until he slaps your clit with his dick, your juices sputtering out of you with each wet pat pat pat. armin draws his hips back slightly before sliding back inside easily, digging his fingers into the back of your thigh you held up and rolled his waist to fuck you harder.

each pound is harder than the previous, his jaw widening as he chokes on his moans and catches your throat with his mouth, tongue lolling out occasionally and his teeth following suit. your head is tossed back entirely, his arm going around your shoulder to cradle you, falling back on the ground. your thighs press tightly together, and you hold onto his arm while his middle and ring fingers thrum intricately over your puffy clit to watch her squirt.

armin hisses with skaken moan. “say it again, ꒰♡꒱.”

“i love you, armin.”

“again,” he’s biting at your neck again, your mouth agape from the combination of that and the head of his dick kissing your sweet spot.

“b-baby, g-god. i love you.”

“ooh, shit,” armin then pushes your left thigh flat to the ground, your body twisted as he goes to level himself above you in push up form, dropping his dick into you with steady, hard pounds. his voice grows weak, moans whiny as he cums deep inside of you, and you follow not long after, squeaking and clutching onto his wrist planted by your head. the softness of your ass bouncing back onto his hips is entrancing. his ass flexing when he grinds into your pussy.

“oh my god,” those pretty strands of blond sway in front of his face, giggling and lowering his body to rest his chest on your side. repeatedly leaving kisses to your flushed cheeks, neck, even your forehead. unable to move at all.

“i really love you, i swear,” the pads of your fingers brush over his pink lips, overly sensitive at the moment so you definitely felt like crying. a high pitched hiccup interrupts the moment, and that only makes armin roll his lips inward before bursting out a laugh.

“you’re so cute,�� he gives you an eskimo kiss before smooching your lips. “i know you do.”

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life. 🫧🍓

[homunculus-argument]

I think life is at its best when you've got enough free time at your leisure to just have random shit happen to you, because you had the time to pause and look around you, and stop to see what this is all about if and when something does seem odd.

The midsummer holiday is this weekend, so I needed to go get all my friends their birthday presents. As it was a nice day and we needed to have our daily walk anyhow, me and my boyfriend decided to head to the shops on foot. The way there was uneventful, but halfway on our way home, we noticed a cyclist crossing the road with a little dog running at the bike's heel, and remarked to each other what an irresponsible way that is to keep a dog - not even on a leash!

But then the little dog halted at the sight of us, and the cyclist went on without even noticing that the dog was left behind. That's when we put together that the dog wasn't even with this guy, but all on its own, wagging its tail and looking right to us. A little cream-coloured poodle, with an apricot colour patch along its spine. A well-groomed, healthy and happy-looking puppy with a collar round its neck - it didn't look lost or scared at all, but like it was having an excellent time, playing unleashed and unsupervised in traffic.

We tried to lure the pup to us, with little success, but since it was clearly not scared of strangers, I figured it's best not to spook it by suddenly grabbing it unless I was 100% sure it wouldn't get away. And as I approached the dog, it ran off back the way it came, up a road on a hill, glancing behind itself as dogs do when they want you to follow, and it halted on the top of the hill.

But by the time we got to the spot where the dog had been, it had disappeared somewhere in the greenery shading the road. So instead of playing cotton-eye-joe - where did you come from, where did you go? - we decided to stop and ask someone nearby where the dog might have come from, to let the owners know that it had been spotted around here. We picked the first house to the left. There was a man building something at the end of the yard, and I was the one who addressed him there.

"Uh, sir? Mister?"

"Huh?"

"Do you happen to know who around here might have a little cream-coloured poodle?"

"Uh, we do?"

"Well it was running down the road in traffic just now. Came back this way, though."

"God fucking damn it."

So the man called his wife who came out with a leash, and the two explained that this isn't the first time the sweet little bastrd had managed to escape - as a matter of fact he had currently been building a proper kennel on their yard, to have something more escape proof than their garden fence. The dog showed up again as the owners called, but didn't want to be caught. Eventually it wandered close enough to me to be snatched by the collar - and even then didn't seem scared to be seized by a stranger, only disappointed that Unsupervised Unleashed Happy Fun Time was over.

The owners thanked us profusedly, and the man went back inside to fetch something, handing us an ice cold bottle of sparkling wine for us for our troubles. Which is now in our fridge. And I guess the next quest is figuring out what we're going to do with that, since neither of us drinks alcohol.

[thebirdandthebee]

Morning Snack | Aemond Targaryen

This is my first time writing in the House of the Dragon universe, so please be kind! Don't expect perfect historical accuracy - but I just love this character so much.

featuring | Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen x Reader

length | 1k words (a shorty!)

synopsis | You're worried about your shape, and your husband's lack of worry about his.

warnings | 18+ MDNI! Fluff + implied smut

One thing that drove you mad about your husband was just how often he could eat. That is, eat and maintain his lithe figure. Sure, he was in the training yard every day, keeping his shape inadvertently, as it was clear he never once had to think about the harsh pull of a corset, but you were certain he could eat more in one day than some homes ate in a week.

It wasn’t uncommon to see the Prince walking the halls of the Red Keep with an apple in his hand, or reaching for a sweet in his pocket.

Aside from snacks, he would quietly and cleanly go through two, three, sometimes four plates of food at supper - the cook prepping and preparing extra venison just for the second son.

When the two of you would take dinner in your bedchambers, there was often a small, second table brought in to hold plates as they normally would not fit on your given space.

Only once and a while, as you ran into your husband throughout the grounds, would you catch just a crumb or two on his black doublet - a sure sign he’d been ordering shortbread to his meeting room during the day.

Besides the fact that you hadn’t seen his measurements change in the 16 months you’d been betrothed and married, there were no obvious signs of his intake.

Today, as your ladies in waiting braced a foot up on the bedpost to pull your laces tighter and tighter, the sight of Aemond’s keen eye scanning a selection of cheeses from your tea table nearly sent you into a frenzy.

“Thank you,” you grimaced before dismissing your ladies maids for the morning - now that you’d been picked, prodded and parsed away into a cascade of deep emerald velvet.

“Thought I’d join you for tea, my love,” Aemond said quietly, just barely breaking eye contact with the spread of fruit, cured meat and treats alongside the soft cheeses on the hutch near your common area.

“Oh really? Because you missed my company?” You supplied, striding across the room, sure you could feel your ribs straining beneath the whelped whale bone stitched into your garments.

“I always enjoy your company, sweet wife,” Aemond assured, raising his look to meet yours, but hand still hovering over a particularly ripe looking apricot.

“Are you sure you aren’t just here for the tea? I can excuse myself so you can be alone with your meal,” you tossed him a look that he nearly missed because he was sure he saw his favorite jam preserves tucked into the display that he hadn’t seen available for a few weeks.

“Mm?” He asked, turning his head to look up at you one more time.

“You make me mad, do you know that?” You asked, coming to stand in front of him with a small furrow between your brows.

“Mad?” Aemond asked, tossing a small berry into his mouth.

“You are here for the food!” You all but snarled, causing his brow to lift just slightly in surprise. 

“Is something the matter?” He asked, turning his shoulders squarely to face you.

“You get to eat and eat and eat all day long,” you huffed, turning and crossing the room once again to pour a glass of incensed water into your empty cup. “How can you eat so much and yet your body never changes? Not even a bit?” You asked. 

Aemond was at a loss for words. He was certain he didn’t eat that much.

“If I have one more sweet than veg at dinner, I can feel on my thighs for the next six weeks!” You knew you were bordering on hysteria at this point. “I watched you eat six tarts last night.” You pointed an accusatory finger at your husband. “Six!”

“They were very good tarts, plums are finally back in season,” Aemond countered, not sure why his little wife was throwing a fit over his tea.

You crossed the rooms again, cradling his sharp jaw in your hands, arms accounting for the height difference between you two.

“I am deeply in love with you, and I deeply resent how you can maintain your figure and eat until your heart’s content,” you said sternly. Aemond noted the slight sweetness of honeysuckle on your breath. “I am… envious,” you admitted softly.

“I assure you,” Aemond began, “your body leaves me wanting for nothing,” he informed. “I’m quite attached to all parts of it and hope none of them disappear,” he said, unruffled by your outburst.

“Well they will,” you huffed, dropping your arms and placing your hands on your waist. “I need to shed these hips and thighs, so I’m telling cook no more sweets at dinner or tea,” you said pointedly, turning away from your husband and crossing the room again to grab your cloak.

“No sweets?” Aemond’s face reflected an expression of disgust. “That simply won’t work for me,” he replied. 

“No sweets,” you reiterated. Aemond set down the halved peach he’d absentmindedly picked up as you were speaking and strode across the room, placing his hands on your waist over your clock.

“My love, I need my sweets the same way I need you,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to puff out a sarcastic laugh.

“Oh really? You can’t live without them?” You asked, spinning in his hold.

Aemond took a deep breath, drawing his arms tightening around you as he spoke with clear authority.

“Your hips and thighs happen to be my favorite bits,” he began, “and if you take them from me the same way you plan to take my sweets, I will take it as a personal affront.”

“Aemond, the other ladies of court - ”

“Frankly, I don’t care about the other ladies of court and neither should you,” he interrupted. “You are a Princess and if anything, they should strive to be more like their rulers.” He held a finger to your lips. “Now that I’ve finished my snack, let me move on to my next favorite thing to eat."

-

-

Please let me know if you'd be interested in reading any more Aemond content :)

[consciouscarrot]

day 8 - gifts [ s.reid ]

spencer reid x fem!reader

content warnings; fluff, r sits in spencer’s lap, r is wearing makeup (at least eyeshadow and eyeliner)

notes; bit of an abrupt ending lol

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

spencer was sat at his desk in his apartment, typing up a case report on his laptop after work when you came up to him. you slid your hands over his shoulders, before leaning down and hugging him from behind. he revelled in the weight of your head pressing into his neck, leaning his own into you slightly.

he noted that one of your hands was closed over something, but your fingers were too tightly wrapped around it for him to be able to get a good enough look and figure out what it was.

he tilted his head, kissing along your arm, gently nipping occasionally before muttering into your skin a soft, “hi, angel.”

you hummed, pulling away languidly then turning his wheelie desk chair around so that he was facing you. he reclined back, shifting his hips forward to accommodate for you. his lean arms wrapped around you snugly as you clambered on top of him, curling your legs underneath you and resting your head on his shoulder again.

your sweet apricot perfume wafted over him, he wasn’t usually a fan of fruity perfumes, finding that they tended to be a stronger scent and gave him migraines, but yours was a perfect blend on your skin. he breathed you in, fingertips running up and down your thigh soothingly.

“what you got there?” he queried.

you slowly unclenched your fingers, revealing a couple of pretty stones that sat on your palm. he took them gently, thumbing over the cool objects.

one was marbled with brown, orange and caramel swirling together, creating uneven stripes and loose spirals. it was covered in imperfections- chips and scratches lining it’s surface.

the other was a smokey grey, so shiny it was almost mirrored. it was very smooth, opposite of the first pebble with next to no marks.

they were both very pretty, and he thought that they were sort of like the two of you- one all shiny and polished, perfect- whilst the other was a little roughed up and tarnished. however, he knew you’d get upset if he told you this, always hating that he was so hard on himself.

“they’re for you, i found them when i was out on my walk. i washed them already, don’t worry,”

you fiddled with the end up his shirt, chewing your bottom lip nervously as your gaze flitted over his features, examining his expression.

“i love them, baby. thank you,” he smoothed over your hair, before gently cleaning up the smudged eyeliner that had begun to muddy your pretty pink eyeshadow, “i’ll cherish them forever.”

you hummed, visibly pleased and all sunny smiles as you looked up at him, basking under his loving touches.

“did you know that male penguins gift a pebble to someone they wish to mate?” he returned your gaze, veiny hand still holding your face, “it’s a sort of engagement ring for them.”

“i did not, that’s so cute. do you know why they do it?”

“i do! there’s not much research that’s been done on it, but it’s believed to be to show that the male penguin is capable of looking after the female, and any chicks they may have, as their nests are built from them, to keep them above any melting ice.”

“that can’t be very comfortable,”

he chuckled softly at your frown, adoring that you were fretting so much over penguins contentment. spencer bent his head down to kiss your chewed-up lips, laughing again when you flushed and quickly buried your head in his neck.

[rayveneyed]

cw: smut / cisfem!reader / scent kink

something nobody ever considers about satoru gojo is that he’s very particular about scents.

it’s a weird side effect of the six eyes that is rarely ever spoken of, by him or any other; along with his fantastical sight, his ability to distinguish minute details kilometres away, to read the ever-twisting flow of cursed energy, yadda yadda yadda — the extrasensory perception he was granted the second two gametes fused into a zygote had skyrocketed every perceptible sensation above the level of the average human. leagues above the level of not-so-average humans, too, but that’s a story for another time.

beneath the slightly dusty smell of skin cells and flesh, each person is different. diet and exercise play a huge part, of course, but then there’s the more obvious things — perfume, toiletries, surroundings. nanami always smells like paper and sandalwood. nobara, sweet and fruity, with a sneaky undertone of something synthetic — something almost hospital-like. yuji smells like grass and citruses, like he’s just popped open a can of something fizzy and caffeinated on the lawns of jujutsu tech. but if he had to choose a favourite…

“could — could you, um—”

one really must forge their own little bits of happiness in this line of work. the constant death and despair really puts a damper on one's lust for life. for gojo — sweets, cute little figures, themed cafes and expensive cakes, things that pleasantly appeal to and delight each one of his six senses. you, in a similar way, enjoy the finer things in life — cashmere and vicuña wool, luxury furniture for your top-floor apartment, century-old wines with names you cannot pronounce — and, to gojo's delight, perfumes.

oh, you have one for every day of the year, he's sure. white florals bursting with zesty citrus, bergamot and black tea when the weather cools. there's fluffy vanillas and sugar-sweet marshmallows, tempered with the smooth depth of sandalwood. osmanthus seeping with syrupy apricots and and peaches. cloves and nutmeg and cypress for the days when the clouds split open and tokyo turns grey.

with your back pressed against the couch and gojo flush against you, hips slotted between your pillowy thighs, he's able to dig his nose right into the curve of where your jaw meets your neck, exactly where you spritz your perfume every morning. today, it's one of those delicious, good-enough-to-eat type of smells; white chocolate and macadamia nut and — fuck, he almost moans against you. sugar and spice and everything nice — you smell like everything he's ever wanted to gorge himself on. he's reminded of the cheap, strawberry body spray you used to use back in high school — how the scent would catch on his nose when you walked past, how it lingered on his jacket when you brushed against him. he shivers.

he lifts his lips from your skin — lifts his nose from the cradle of your neck to give you a distracted, slightly disgruntled, "huh? what?"

it's only without the smell of you clouding his nose that he suddenly realises that you're squirming against him — the heat of your clothed pussy pressing against his hardened cock, layers of cotton and denim and linen between you both leaving you with only the slightest, most irksome hint of pleasure. even with his blindfold fastened over his eyes, it's all so much.

"just — i need something," you say, exasperated. your forehead's dewy with sweat, glasses slipping down the bridge of your pretty nose. "you've been at this for ages."

"ah, my bad." but he doesn't stop. how can he tear himself from your warmth, the heat of you radiating from your skin, your arms wound around his neck and fingers in his hair? how can he leave even a single inch of space between you, when your chest is heaving with excitement and the musky sweetness of your arousal is reaching his nose? he satisfies both your needs for stimulation with slow, curling rolls of his hips, dull pleasure tingling up his spine and leaving him shuddering. "i thought you were more patient."

"you — you're the one that dragged me in here," you say, even as your breathing gets heavier, even as your head falls back with a whine, baring the column of your neck to his greedy, seeking nose. "i told you i have plans, so unless you—!"

"alright, alright," he concedes, though all of your arguments about the time have been half-hearted at best. "don't you worry, i'll take good care of you — real good care."

"you sound like such a sleaze when you say stuff like that."

"mhm." for a moment, he lifts his head — and he doesn't have to look at his reflection mirrored in your eyes to know that his pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed pink. you're not much better off — for all your whining and posturing, your proverbial claws aren't much more dangerous than those of a scrappy little kitten. beneath it all, your breathing is laboured, your blood vessels dilated. you smell sweeter, like your body is a ripening fruit or blooming flower, opening for him. your blood rushing to the surface of your skin, heating up the fragrance oils still dotted along your flesh, turns it all heady and head-dizzying.

you want him — you can deny it all you want, but he can see it clear as day. the reminder sends what little blood remains in his head straight to his cock.

"you smell sweet," satoru says, blank and dumb. "when you're horny."

for a moment, you pause. embarrassment — and arousal, though you probably won't admit it — has you locking up. a hint of bitterness turns your fragrance — like burning chocolate — before you huff suddenly, smacking at him until he begins to back up. "oh, my god — you're so shameless, satoru—"

"no, i'm serious! h—hey, stop!" he argues, wriggling until he's back in your good graces again. he dips his head to your skin again, teasing you with little nips along your neck. you'll see the bruises it leaves tomorrow and demand he make it up to you with sweets that he'll just have to eat with you, earrings that glimmer in garnet. for now, though, he’ll get a little serious.

"you get a little sweeter when you cum too, y'know," satoru coos. he tugs at his blindfold, blinking as unfettered light filters into his retina. it's sensory overload, overstimulating and overwhelming, but it's exactly what he wants: to see you, feel you, taste you, smell you — be engulfed by you in every way he can. as if drawn there, his hand sneaks between the tight fit of your bodies, slipping under the hiked-up hem of your skirt and petting at your underwear — soaked, as he’d expected, coating the tips of his fingers. "like syrup. i wanna smell you like that.”

his tongue peeks out over your pulse point, touch reaching up and up and up to that fantastic little ball of nerves he adores. you let out a moan so loud that even he’s taken aback. giddiness bubbles in the pit of his stomach — giddiness, horniness, it’s all the same to him — and he shoves his nose so hard into your skin he swears it’ll bruise. ah, there it is. he’s barely even touched you, too. it’ll be even better when he does.

“g—god, you’re horrible,” you say, arching into him, like you can’t bear to be apart for even a second.

“me?” satoru laughs. you’re distracting from the task at hand, though he usually doesn’t mind. he can’t help but respond, giving you your own attitude back a thousandfold. it’s just now, when it’s been so long since he’s gotten his fill of you, he’s just… a little impatient... “oi, don’t get all embarrassed — you always get so mean.”

“then stop saying things like that, and i won’t have to be — a—ah!”

satoru suckles at the cold-hardened flesh he’s just taken in his mouth — your mouth falling open in wonder and your chest heaving as he takes your nipple between two dull rows of teeth, humming. between his fingers and his mouth, you’ll soon be rendered almost completely silent, shuddering and twitching in what he knows will be a strong, satisfying orgasm — sweet with sweat, salt and musk gathering between your legs. looking up at him with glassy eyes and calling his name. his mouth waters.

he better get a move on, though: you have plans, after all.

[bitchfitch]

My mother's bf had a fairly major surgery (he's fine and recovering well DW) and he's going to be housebound for his birthday this year, so I've been enlisted to come up with a fancy birthday meal for the special birthday boy that's primarily fruit and veg, sweeter than savory, and is something he's never had before.

Bc I'm making watermelington. It's beef Wellington, but watermelon. bc my mom only found out recently you can use watermelon as a tuna substitute. And I know that you can substitute most higher quality beef cuts with tuna or salmon.... usually. Anyways the idea fascinates her so I'm hoping to use that for bonus points.

Now he's off his ass on pain killers so I can't like. Ask him if he's ever had something before. so to meet my brief I've decided to just. commit a novel hate crime against the British I guess.

Anyways. I'm writing this because I need to walk myself through this process and think it'll be surreal enough to be worth taking y'all along for.

So, Beef Wellington. In its most basic bitch arrangement is a beef tenderloin wrapped in prosciutto/really thin bacon, with a layer of mushroom and onion mush, that has been further wrapped in mustard slathered puff pastry.

We will be ship of Theseusing this. bc beef Wellington is like. the opposite of what he wants. Which is why it's funny.

Puff pastry-> it's still just puff pastry

this one doesn't have to change (aka I can't be fucked to do pastry prep and I'm just gonna use store bought it's Fine.)

the prosciutto is also just going to be prosciutto.

Thin meat

Beef tenderloin-> watermelon,

Tbh this is a pretty 1 to 1 substitution. I'll bake the slices at like. 250-300 for an hour or so ahead of the rest of prep to dry it out a bit. bc you can't like. Sear watermelon to seal in the water like you can beef. By definition it's a very wet fruit (like me when I fall into the lake). Ill Add salt and chili and lime juice while baking maybe. this is the easy part

The mushroom mush-> salsa done bad style

As the word mush implies, this is meant to be a very soft mix. It adds a lot of nuttiness to the wellington that rounds out all of the salt from the meats. I'm replacing it with white person salsa(the birthday boy can't handle spice). Tomato, lime juice, parsley, avocado, cucumber, feta, and maybe mango so I can have an excuse to have a lil mango treat. I said I wasn't making it spicy. I'm still putting a bit of chili in it. bc it'll be better like that. This is also a ridiculously wet bit of mush, Even the original mushrooms have too much water. I'll figure something out.

Mustard -> jelly

He lives in a big city. those preserve sections are massive. I'll find a weird one. maybe apricot.

Prep:

We're in the mind palace kitchen, I have not attempted any of this. We're just thinking real hard about it and I'll edit as needed on the day and post results.

The watermelon

Preheat oven to eh. 300f? We want low and slow to dry things out without it taking a year. but idk what his oven is like. If it's gentle I'll bump it up another ten-twenty.

Slather some watermelon slices in salt chili powder and lime juice mixture.

bake for 30 min on a wire rack or directly on the oven racks (after cleaning thoroughly) if he doesn't have a wire rack. with a drip try underneath to catch the drippage. check frequently. Have one slice that's for being poked to see if it's approaching being meat. Bake longer if needed.

Salsa bad style

chop everything up and add it to a pan with some oil in it. Tbh I don't think the type of oil you use for cooking matters if you're not like, getting near any smoke points. Most people can't tell the difference unless you made your food bland as hell.

Anyways there's some wildly different moisture contents on the list so there has to be an Order to cook off as much water as possible without getting yucky.

Tomatoes and cucumbers go in together with some salt to get the cucs softening, then the mango chunks and lime juice. Once most of the water is gone the avocado feta and parsley can go in. There is a good amount of water in avocados but they're delicate and don't pan fry well, so we're just going to ignore their water crimes and hope for the best. They just need to be evenly mixed through the rest of the mush.

Putting it together

lay out the puff pastry, cut into sections to wrap each watermelon slice individually with.

Slather in jam

Take the prosciutto and lay it out on half of each section of the pastry,

spoon the salsa onto that

Melon

Another layer of salsa

another layer of thin meat

Fold the pastry over the top and pinch the edges bc watermelon slices are not a rollable shape and I don't want to carve a watermelon into a tube for this because that sounds irritating.

Brush with egg wash and more parsley

Cook in oven following the pastry's preferred temp and time. it's fucking watermelon, you're not getting ecoli from it.

watermelington :)

I'm serving it with baked sweet potatoes and spinach based salad with whatever toppings are left over from making the salsa.

anyways thank you for joing me on this thought experiment. I will post updates once the deed is done. I'm sorry to every British person ever.

[bullet-prooflove]

Sfogliatella - Chef Luca x Reader (The Bear)

Tagging: @Princesssunderworld @djlnkaled @kmc1989 @ineedrickgrimes @imjustheretoreads-blog

One of the things Luca loves the most about living on a boat is the sound of the waves lightly lapping against the hull as he falls asleep at night, your body curled up against his, his fingertips combing lightly through your hair.

In the mornings he leaves you sleeping in his sheets, your hair a bird’s nest from the previous night’s adventures, his lips brushing over your forehead before he starts his shift. He spends the rest of day thinking about you as he creates the most awe inspiring desserts based on the tours you take of the city during his days off.

You’ve been working as a translator for a few years now, residing in Copenhagen while attending meetings all over the world when required. You take to languages the same way he took to baking, with a ferocity that refuses to be sated.

It makes things interesting in the bedroom when Luca discovers he loves the way you speak Italian. You whisper the filthiest things against his skin as you ride him, your fingers tangled in his hair as he fucks up into you because you make him lose his god damn mind.

In the aftermath you lay draped across him, your fingertips tracing over the freckles on his chest as he asks you to tell him about the best dessert you’ve ever eaten.

“In Naples they have this thing called Sfogliatella.” You tell him, propping your chin up on his chest as you describe it. “It’s like a shell shape and the pastry is layered. It has a sweet custard-like filling made with semolina and ricotta. Sometimes they add chocolate or candied citrus fruit. It’s spectacular, I remember taking a bite of it and I swear I saw God.”

“That good huh?” He says, his fingertips tucking a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“I’ve never had anything like it.” You tell him, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile at the memory. “It’s one of the things I miss the most about living in Italy.”

He’s never been to Italy, he’d done some travelling before he landed in Copenhagen, shifted from restaurant to restaurant in pursuit of his passion but he’d never ended up there. He thinks he’d like to one day, that maybe the two of you could go together.

In the meantime he sets himself a new challenge.

Making the Sfogliatella.

The first thing he learns about the pastry is just how time consuming it is to make. It takes over twenty seven hours and that’s just the test samples, which go horribly because he’s still finding his footing.

He slaves over the recipe for months, making adjustments, consulting with Carmy and experimenting with different fillings to get the right texture and consistency.

“This is starting to feel like a proposal pastry.” Carmy remarks during their seventh Zoom call, while they’re discussing the merits of using apricots or lemons for the centre and Luca doesn’t respond.

He doesn’t know when the pursuit of the perfect Sfogliatella  became more than just a challenge. He thinks it was the day you took him to the Glyptoteket, your fingers linked through his as the two of you explored the Winter Garden. He can’t explain just how stunning it had been, stepping into that oasis, being surrounded by that plush greenery. He’d sat there for hours sketching ideas in his notebook while you explored the other exhibits. He’d been lacking in inspiration at the time, he’d confided that to you the night before because he’d become frustrated with the menu he was working on and you’d brought him to this place filled with beauty and magic. It was at that  moment he realised just how much you understood him, you’d known exactly what he needed even when he didn’t.

“Good luck.” Carmy signs off and Luca’s left to make a decision between apricots and lemons without him.

It’s on the eve of your birthday that he finally achieves perfection. He carefully packs the pastries away to take home for tomorrow when he’s going to make every single one of your dreams come true.

When you wake up the next morning on his boat it’s to the scent of Earl Grey tea and freshly baked pastries. You can’t believe your eyes when you sit down at the kitchen table and he sets down the Sfogliatella in front of you. He will never forget the expression on your face when you bite in into it, the look of joy, the moan of appreciation.

“It’s better than the one in Naples.” You tell him, pressing your fingertips to your lips because you’re starting to get emotional. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“You deserve the world.” He tells you as he gets down on one knee in front of you, taking your hand in his. “And I want to give that to you as your personal chef and your husband.”

You laugh then because you’d never imagined when you’d taken the job in Copenhagen that you’d end up falling in love with a man as wonderful as Luca, one that has spent months striving to make you feel so special on your big day.

“Yes.” You say as he slides the engagement ring on your finger. “Of course I’ll marry you Luca.”

Love Luca? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bones4thecats]

➸ Royal Bloodline; Future! Malleus × S/O

Character: Malleus Draconia A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this cute little thing I made! Disclaimer(s): This is what I used to reference the Reader's outfit + cloak and then Malleus' cloak

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Malleus Draconia ═════════════════════════╝

🐉 Never in a million years did you expect that you would be here, wrapped in a long gown while your husband sat at his desk, writing a letter to one of the knights stationed a ways away from your homeland

🐉 You smiled gently at your husband and stood up, grabbing your cloak from the nearby hook, wrapped it around your frame, and clipped it together so you could walk outside

"Where are you going, love?" Malleus asked from his chair.

"I'm going to head to town really quick. Virgil and Maximus have been wanting some apricots and nectarines as of late." You answered.

"I can send one of the guards out to do it for you, you know this, right?"

"Yes, I do. Malleus, the kids need some fresh air. So, why not do some shopping in the meantime?"

🐉 Malleus sighed and nodded. He didn't mean to be so possessive of you and his two children, but sometimes he couldn't help but give into the things he grew up with. He always viewed being locked away as normal, but when you guys married, you slowly tore that away from him

🐉 He then signed his name on the paper in front of him and stood up, grabbing his own cloak, clipping it, and holding his arm out for you to hold

"So you want some fresh air as well?" You teased.

"Perhaps."

🐉 You smiled and giggled, wrapping your arms around his before walking through the hallways to find your two children and head outside of the castle to the small market that covered the many walkways of Briar Valley

🐉 Malleus listened to the knights walking around while you two searched for Virgil and Maximus. You eventually reached your children's room and opened it to see Silver, Sebek, and Lilia inside with the children. Lilia was playing with them while Silver and Sebek stood guard

"Virgil, Max! Do you guys want to go to own really quick?" You asked.

"Yeah!" The female and male yelled, standing up and pulling their own cloaks before handing them to their two uncles to put on them.

🐉 Sebek sighed and bent down to wrap the dark purple cloak around Virgil's tiny body while Silver put the dark blue one around Maximus' body

🐉 When you guys finally left, Silver and Sebek had to follow as knights while Lilia stayed in the castle for any kind of precaution. Malleus looked at you and smiled, his children happily chatting as they walked next to one another

🐉 Malleus and your crowns shined against the sun as you walked around. Everyone knew whom you were from just your appearance, but your crowns really laid it on thicker

🐉 The kids then began running faster, making Sebek flinch and go sprinting after them. You laughed as Malleus sighed and smiled, watching as they ran away with the larger-male chasing after them so they were safe

🐉 The King of Briar Valley then looked at you and gave a more gentle smile, leaning his head over to kiss your forehead. You looked up at him and smiled, kissing his own cheek before seeing Sebek picking up your kids and bringing them back to where you guys were

🐉 This was what he always wanted growing up. Ever since he realized his feelings when you looked at him years ago back in College when you went to Noble Bell College and watched the stars that beautiful night. Though, those stars were nothing to the beauty of his wife, his queen

🐉 Looking back up as his kids continued to cause chaos for poor Sebek, Malleus laid his hand on yours as you kept walking towards the three of them, Silver silently following behind

🐉 This was his bloodlines, his Royal Bloodline

[hugsandchaos]

Seeing Double

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: A ghost who looks a lot like Phantom comes to him in search of protection, and their newest member instantly agrees. He calls her his little sister, and sooner or later, Phantom also might end up with a new brother.

*bangs pots and pans together* @vixen-uchiha, @starlightcat04, @blueliac, @lenacraft, @admiralwidow, @fuckingfaraway, @little-apricot-orchard, @sithlordchimchnga, @buymeanewlaptopty, @deeterzz, @jaylaxyart99, @phant0mc1d3, @idiosolcrasy, @dehydrated-bread, @randomenglishmajor, @mushroomymoss, @skylernightmare, @rubber-ducky-your-the-one, @confusedshades, @that-random-fangirl, @impulsiveasshole, FINAL ROUND OF JUICE, GRAB YOUR CUPS!!!

“And that’s why I have... complicated feelings about Danielle being here.” Conner finished. Black Canary sat across from him and was leaned forward a little to listen. It felt good to finally get something like this off his chest.”It’s not anything against Danielle specifically. If it’s the safest place for her like Phantom says, then she can stay as long as she needs. It’s...” He trailed off, not knowing how to put the reason into words.

Luckily, Black Canary knew what he was implying by what he had already told her.”You also want Superman to be there for you like Phantom is for Danielle.” She said. Conner clenched his hand into a fist, but only for a second. She was right. He silently nodded.

“It’s not just that, either. Sometimes I want to be included in their sibling activities. I want to hang out with them. Not Superman. Not as often as before, at least.” He added. He thought himself pretty rude for thinking that. He wasn’t nearly as close to Phantom as Danielle. He wasn’t related to him in hardly any way, and they only recently started hanging out the way friends did.

And yet here he was, wanting to be part of their little group.

Black Canary seemed only a little bit surprised by this.”You want to be their brother?” She asked.

Conner shouldn’t have been taken aback by the suggestion when he began thinking about it. Yes, he wanted to be close with both of them the way they are with each other. Yes, he wanted to protect them both. And yes, there was a small part of Conner that wanted to be able to look to Phantom for help.”I... I think so. If that’s what it would mean.” He said. He’s heard of people calling others they’ve fought many battles with “brothers in arms” and those who are simply close to one another their brothers as well, regardless of wether or not they’ve survived fights together.

Canary smiled a little bit and nodded for him to continue.

“But what am I supposed to do about this? I’ve been mostly ignoring it because they have a bond with each other that I don’t have. I can’t just butt in on it.” Conner said. He wasn’t wrong, and Canary knew that. Then again, she also knew something that would make that feeling disappear.

However, she knew that it wasn’t her place to say it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Around thirty minutes later, Black Canary now sat across the from Phantom, who was floating above the recliner instead of sitting in it. She had only very recently been able to make a small breakthrough with the ghostly teenager. Since his arrival, he’s been trying to avoid opening up with almost anything she’s tried to talk with him about, but soon after Danielle came, he finally opened up a little. Maybe it was the fact that someone he was more familiar with was there with him. Or perhaps it was because of the very thing he’d mentioned during their last session.

Phantom was alternating between eye contact and staring at the floor.”You mentioned something last time. About Conner.” She said.

“I’m worried about him. The others have their families, but...” He trailed off. He opened and closed his mouth a few times while he struggled to find the right words. This was pretty common during these sessions, and Canary knew to be patient.”Can I be mean for a second? Say something I probably shouldn’t?” He asked.

Canary nodded.”Nothing leaves this room.” She assured him.

Phantom looked her in the eyes.”Superman is a coward.” He said bluntly.

Canary was taken aback by his choice of words, but didn’t let it show and remained silent for him to explain.”He has a clone, practically a literal son, but he refuses to see him almost as anything but non-sentient. Why? Is it because he’s too much of a coward to step up? Why won’t he at least apologize for what he said last visit and admit he was wrong!” He said.

Phantom’s tone and volume had raised up, which sounded like the start of a rant. He rolled his eyes as if disgusted.”He’s acting like a deadbeat with the way he does his best to ignore Conner’s existence! Seriously, the way he treats him almost makes me want to...”

Canary raised an eyebrow slightly. The ghostly teen let out a sigh.”This is gonna sound weird, but it makes me want to have Conner as my little brother so he doesn’t have to feel the way he does. But I can’t treat him like a child and just make him leave the room whenever he comes.” He said.

Canary nodded in agreement.”That’s may be true, but your motive is in the right place. It’s incredibly kind of you to be so worried about your friend that you’d be willing to become something of a new role model or guardian for him. Especially since he’s older than you.” She said.

Phantom lifted a hand and shook it side to side.”Eh, only biologically. Definitely not chronologically.” He said.

~~~~~~~~~~

Conner and Phantom were talking about their day when Wally had come in to tell them, specifically Conner, that Superman was coming in a few hours. Phantom’s reaction was immediate; zipping out of the room through the wall and vanishing. He came back a second later with an important to ask Conner.

It was a task that’d keep him busy from having to interact with Superman, which he really wanted at the time. All he had to do was watch Danielle and prevent his original from even seeing her.

And so here he was, doing a simple dog puzzle with Danielle in his bedroom.

Conner finished sorting the edge pieces from the rest and picked up a corner piece.”So you’ve never been to the ghost zone before?” He asked.

Danielle shook her head and held an edge piece near the corner piece to see if it would match.”No, Phantom says my core’s too weak to survive going through the portal. He says he’s working on a solution to fix that, though. “Even if it’s just for one trip,” he said.” She explained. The piece was incompatible, so she moved it to the size. She picked up another one. That one fit. The young ghost picked up another edge piece. Conner let out a small hum and helped her search for other pieces.

He had found it infuriating to discover that he was practically half of what Superman was in terms of superpowers, but Danielle didn’t seem too angry about being not as strong as her brother. Maybe it was because he was so nice and encouraging to her.”You’re lucky to have a brother like Phantom.” Conner said. Danielle nodded in agreement and looked up at him.

She knew by now that he was also a clone like her and had so many questions, but stopped when he started to get upset a few weeks ago. He didn’t know if anyone explained the situation to her yet.”Don’t you have a family?” She asked. Conner remained quiet.

Rejection from the very person that’s practically the reason you’re alive hurt a lot. He kept his anger under control, though. At least, he tried. If she had asked this months ago, he might’ve yelled at her or something. Now he was better at controlling himself until he could hit something, but he still wanted so badly to just explode. To hit something and shatter it to a point beyond repair. But he couldn’t. Not here. Conner shook his head.

Danielle frowned a little, but then she suddenly sat up. A big smile appeared on her face.”What if you were my second brother?” She asked.

Conner paused. He’d been pushing the developing want to become her and Phantom’s brother. He strongly believed that it wasn’t right to intrude on their relationship as siblings, especially when he wouldn’t exactly be the best brother with the anger issues he’s working on. He glanced over at Danielle with a very shocked look.

She was smiling at him so hopefully. Conner almost didn’t want to say no. Scratch that, he didn’t want to say no at all. And even if he did, would he be able to resist that pleading look?“That would be nice.” He finally said. Danielle took in what was probably the most dramatic gasp he’d ever heard and practically lunged at him for a hug.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a bunch of static and pings. Conner soon smiled and hugged back.”You know I can’t understand you, right?” He asked.

“Oh, right! Sorry. But this is the best!! Now I have two brothers, and one of them is a clone like me!!” She cheered, switching back to English.

Suddenly, Phantom’s head poked up through the floor, startling the both of them.”He’s gone. What’s this I hear about a new brother?” He asked. Danielle let go of Conner as Phantom floated up and smiled.

“Can Conner be our new brother?” She asked. Phantom’s eyes widened a bit. He glanced over at Conner, who shrugged.

Why did he shrug? That was stupid.

Phantom glanced between him and Danielle, then smiled.”Sure, why not?” He said. Danielle threw her arms into the air and cheered. Phantom floated over to Conner and gave him a hug.”Guess you’re stuck with us now.” He said, then laughed.

Conner didn’t really get it. He said that like it was a bad thing.

[sintiva]

❝baby, can you suck it?❞ ✧ ೃ༄

ft. toji x black!reader

۵summary: toji’s day of festivities starts with you on your knees 🫶🏽

‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ��content warnings: established relationship, fem!reader, chubby!reader, reader is into makeup, is a throat goat, slight degradation (toji calls us a slut twice), oral sex ����, cock worshipping, impact play, spit kink, hair pulling, dacryphilia, throat fucking, cum eating, facial… // wc: 2.8k

‏‏‎ ‎ ۵notes: y’all thought i was playing about that oral fixation, huh👩🏽‍🦯this was supposed to be less than 1k……😭 (ac: @/beesflyy_ on ig!!)

“baby, can i suck it?” you plead. 

you paw and fondle your husband’s bulge that sits comfortably in his sweats. you cup it, rub it, and stroke it while you beg with big, doe eyes. he stares at your all’s shared reflection in your vanity mirror. unimpressed, annoyed, flattered you can’t really tell. maybe if you’re eyes didn’t pathetically dart back and forth between his eyes and dick you’d be able to read him.

you finally finished beating your face and spritzed setting spray to lock everything in. he’d been watching your entire process since the moment you patted your face dry from cleansing. you always started getting ready before him, but you both showered together.

a vanilla bean 3-wick candle was burning, he had the mood lights on in the room, and from your tv; ari lennox’s voice floated through the room. boy bye making you sing your heart out and reenact your own one-man dialogue. there he lay in bed, a towel around his shoulders, and his thumb scrolling through tik toks 

 toji didn’t find it necessary for you to get ready so early, more so, he didn’t really understand why you wore makeup, but he didn’t care. besides, he'd already spent hundreds of dollars buying you whatever products you desired, so he couldn’t complain. so, eventually, he’d learn your routine, and when he noticed you were finished he’d waltz on over. 

only hopping a mere foot off the bed and pacing forward with about twenty steps until he was right by your side. no underwear, no shirt; just sweats and his love-smitten grin, when he’d pull your face, c’mere you look so, sexy, for a kiss that involved way too much tongue. now you’d have to reapply your nude lip. 

grumbling an unpleasant “toji,” you shot a deathly gaze up at your husband. watching as he’d wipe a huge glossy layer off his lips with a smug look. 

“just cause it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you can get away with everything.”

“i can if you let me.” he dips down and pecks your lips again, ignoring the slowly mattifying lipstick you had on your cupid's bow. yet, you can’t really get mad, because you make the wrong mistake of taking too long to adjust your eyes — quite long if i may.

and you “mistakenly” get a look at the thing that has been slowly getting harder as he laid and watched you put on makeup. from watching you get up from your pink heart-shaped spinny chair, then over to the bathroom. he didn’t know what to focus on more, your ass swallowing up your thong; or the cute expression you’d make — especially when frustrated. safe to say both contributed to the small wet spot that formed along his right thigh. 

“it’s leaking, how long have you been hard for creep?” 

i forgot to mention that just before you too got in the shower, you were slobbering all over his dick. sucking on the tip, just so he would cum. you know he wanted to get one out, and you just had to assist. every chance you got you were on your knees begging for him to use your mouth. acting submissive and pouting until he tapped the dark, pulsing tip against your lips. 

you glanced up at him. fluttering your eyes shut — blinking two complete times before you smirked in the mirror. he chuckled; letting a puff of air zip out the corner of his lips with a pshh. the bright apricot-red powder that brought out the contour of your cheekbones lifted with your smile, and toji chuckled even more. 

you didn’t know why he was giggling, considering the fact that you saw the veins in his arms flexing as it moved down the length of his dick through his shorts. cupping it at the tip, and squeezing it real firm and nice when you’d moan out or whine from your arms being tired. 

“who knows,” he jutted his hips out, and crossed his arms over his chest, taking them out of the deep compartments of the sweat’s pockets. now it was more evident, you didn’t have to turn your head at all to see how his dick rested against his thigh, because it was right in your peripheral. the tip was the clearest thing. thick and hard; straining against the flimsy grey material. 

“so,” you peer up at him, and he peers down at you. the scar on the right side of his lip twitches when the corners of his lips raise up, “can i suck it?” 

you flip your wrist towards it and cup it in your hand again. you gawk at the size, and how you have to actually extend all your digits to get a grip on it. you squeeze it gently and fix your hand so that it’s situated “under” his dick. even though it is a bit harder since he’s wearing his sweats you still manage a good grip. 

“ ‘sss i’m still a bit sensitive from earlier.” he groans oddly loud, a bit out of character, but maybe he is that sensitive right now. you can’t really blame him, your mouth was feeling just a bit emptier earlier just like how it is now.  

“consider it another extra birthday present. just… dessert a bit early.” you clasp your arms around his thigh and press your cheeks against it. you bring it in for a hug and ruffle your hair against his leg since you didn’t want to mess up your makeup, and fuck! 

“and imma need dessert later.” he rasps. 

he just couldn’t find it in him to say no, no matter how short he’d last. 

two big arms swooped down to scoop you up bridal style. those two big, bulging arms had hands that lingered on your ass for quite a bit though; squeezing and fondling the jiggling flesh as he spun you in the air. he carried you both over to the edge of your california king and perched you on his lap. his hand slipped between your thighs, and his lips found purchase all over your skin. 

biting, nibbling, and sucking on your brown, glitter-covered skin. his lips tickled the skin of your collarbone and all up to your neck that he swore over and over tasted like honey. you used a tired arm to move your hair out of his path. the longer he kissed you, the more you slip off his lap, landing right by his feet. 

toji was aware of your impatience. you kept pawing at him through his sweats, take ‘em offs, and cute little cries rolled off your tongue. 

these th- take ‘em off, i wan’ ‘em off…

the well-filed shape of your nails, scratch and poke at the skin of his adonis belt making him twitch in a mix of plain and pleasure. 

“be gentle, princess, it’s not going anywhere.” 

you exaggerate an excessive eye roll and wait like a good girl. hands folded neatly against your thighs, and the top of one foot was crossed so it sat in the arch of the other. you wait and clench your fist, you dig your nails into your thighs as you watch him stand up. you’ll be “patient”, you’ll “wait”. when you think you’re just gonna stare and wait for him to drop his sweats his voice snaps you out of your daze. 

“up here,” he snaps his fingers and taps your cheeks with two fingers when you crane your neck to look up, “open.” your mouth opens immediately

he ducks down and spits in your mouth, tells you to “hold it,” with a smirk, “and you better not let any come out.” it’s warm and nearly slid down your throat because you adore every little thing toji gives you. he takes his sweet time with it. 

his fingers dance and skim around his waistband; playing with the elastic and snapping it away from his body. and surely, like always, he tugs them down painfully slow. shimmying out of them as if he’s you trying to get some jeans on. your calves feel sore from the weight of your butt, but you squeeze your eyes tight and shake your head to void that feeling. 

then in that instance, you hear it; the weight of him slapping against his stomach ‘thwack’. you drop your head foregoing any instruction, and moan at the sight, careful not to let his spit pour down the sides of your mouth. his perfectly trimmed hairs are the perfect background, and pre cum already dribbles down his stomach from his belly button. it rolls down and forms little beads in the hair. 

he takes it in his hands; smooths his fingers over his tip and carries the pre along his shaft. your brows scrunch together. you’re very impatient. not until he smacks it along your cheeks, and smacks it against your lips are you thinking this is going anywhere. it’s hot, and its weight has ghosting effects on you. you still feel the weight of it all over your face when he moves. he just slaps it against your cheek over and over. 

then he rubs the tip in between your thick lips. back and forth, “you better not open your mouth.” he moans. his

when he sits back on the fluffy mattress, he spreads his legs, and you scoot all the way forward so that there isn’t an inch of space. 

“i love your dick,” you praise and wrap your dainty hand around it, “‘s so big and perfect.” you suckle on the tip; lovingly and focused. your lips wrap perfectly around it, making it disappear from his view. his hips twitch when you do that, sucking on it like a straw trying to get all his nut out. “shit baby- jus’ tryna make me cum, huh?” 

“ ‘s working?” you look up. “i love it, i love it, i love it.”

you take your lips off him, but now without a well-emphasized smack of your lips, “is that a problem?” he laughed a short stream of air siphoning out his nose, before he dragged a heavy hand down his face, biting down on his lip when you warmed his tip in your mouth once again. he could feel his hips going crazy. rolling against the cushion and testing his shitty resolve.  

you suck his dick politely, but you manage to make it so nasty. slobbering, and drooling so that you both hear the tiny ‘pits’ ‘n ‘patters’ of your saliva dripping to the floor. small bubbles of spit coat his length and rid your lips of the beautiful matte lip you perfected 10 minutes ago. your hands are still planted on your thighs when you turn your head to rub your lips down his shaft. with each pass of your lips, you kiss and worship every part of it. 

“i just love your dick so much!” 

you poke your tongue out of your mouth and trace the veins that spiral his dick. two prominent veins, running nearly parallel to each other, and meeting just before it sprouts to the glans. you love to lick, poke and prod with your tongue then you kiss, suck, and love on it with your lips. your sweet lips drive him up a wall. 

he finds the teasing a waste of time. it’d be a waste if you weren’t spiraling yourself. when you bring your hands up, touch and rub, he grabs a handful of your hair; tilts your head back, and fits two fingers in your mouth. your tongue sucks on them, swirls around them as he pushes them as deep as his dick should be. he feels your mouth buzz around his fingers and your eyes are keen on what should be in your mouth.

you dismiss it and pull your head back. 

“i want this.” you wrap both hands around his dick, and stroke it. your wrap your fingers tightly around his dick. he bucks his hips up into your hand and keeps his hand in your hair. if you keep it up he’ll be cumming a little earlier than expected. 

“then suck it.” he pulls you closer and wraps another bit of your hair around his dick as he guides your mouth back to his dick. he yanks your head back and spits another glob of in your mouth, and you can’t lie his actions make you tear up. your eyes burn and a steady line of tears roll down your cheeks. when he manhandles your annoyance from the teasing, you always cry, because he gets a little rough; rougher than he’d like. the absence of your lips on his dick makes him groan. 

“come on don’t be crying on me, you know i love it when you do.” you attempt to protest, but when you open your mouth again he slides himself right in. he stuffs your face full — right to the hilt and he can feel your throat squeezing around him. you gag and choke around him. you place your hands on his thighs and squeeze the thick muscles of them; trying everything you can to relax your throat. you're trying every little thing possible to adjust to his dick that curves so obscenely down your throat. 

he’s stuffed himself so far down your throat it feels like he’s breaching your heart if he had just one more inch it feels like he’d reach it.

he pulls out, you breathe a short ‘gwah’ coming from you. 

“thought you wanted to suck it,” he grins, “or is it too much when i’m fucking your throat?” 

you ignore him and wipe your face; big mistake. if you know you know.

he returns to the usual; peering down at you for permission to continue. you nod and take a deep breath as he guides you back to him. he gives silent commands. he thrust back into your mouth and now does so in a steady motion. pulling out till only his tip is in your mouth then he’s rutting himself back into you. falling in love with the way your tongue curls around his dick. moaning at the curve of it down your throat. 

balls smacking your chin, and saliva falling all down the column of your throat, to your tits, and to the floor. “you’re a messy little slut, you know that.” 

your gaze raises when he says that, and he can feel the vibration of your whimpering around his cock. he stands up to make it easier to thrust himself in. the muscles of his thighs bulge as he gets up, and his deep purs and moans go straight to your head. making you feel light and capable. he situates both of his hands down your throat as your head bobs along his cock. 

“your mouth’s perfect. sucking dick like my personal little slut.” 

mhmm.

the salacious sounds of your mouth suctioning around his dick have his head feeling hazy. all he can think about is cumming, where? he’s unsure. but the way your throat continuously tightens around him has him ready to shoot white hot buckets down your throat. his tip twitches in your throat, and his fingers lace through your hair. taking a tighter hold. you take your hands and grab his ass. you squeeze tight, holding on for dear life because it feels like he could fuck your jaw right off. your nails dig into his skin tighter and tighter til the last snap of his hips against your face, and he’s pushing your head further into his groin. your nose is fully pushed against him, and you gag when you feel him emptying every bit of cum he has into your throat. 

then he’s pulling you off of him, and letting some of the spurts shoot up on your face. sticking to your lashes, pumping it out all over your cheeks, and groaning with each bit that shoots out the slit. he’s proud of his work, painting his favorite aspects of your face a pretty translucent cream. 

your cheeks puff out as you work to swallow the thick substance down.

it takes three big gulps for you to get it all down. three and then you're showing him your mouth; opening wide so he can see that it’s all gone, minus the bit of it that was stuck to the back of your tongue. your eye twitches from the taste, but you put on a happy smile disregarding the makeup that you’d have to redo. 

“you fuck me all the way up, you know that.” he plops his ass down onto the bed and catches his breath. getting sucked off by you! well… fucking your throat twice in less than two hours has stolen all of his energy. 

you kiss his tip one last time, and stand up on your feet. your thighs shift, and you can feel the wetness that grew in between your legs. you grow hot, but you bend down and give him a kiss, “happy birthday, my love.” 

“thank you, baby,” he gives a soft smile, and wraps his arms around your waist, “but do we really have to wait for dessert?” 

۵tagging: @eclpsess @venusflytrapstar @si00p @uwubraun @godhatesdimitri @sunnylovesfics @sirenh4ll @dimepdf @keke2fly06 @jellymantra33 @toji-dabi-wife @persona-enthusiast @luvrgalore

[luveline]

Hey my lovely, could i equest a blurb where reader seeks one of spencer's hugs and he's all soft and mushy about it!! I just think he'd give really warm hugs and want one so bad!

shy!reader + post!prison Spencer have a hug

Spencer understands why you might find him intimidating. He did go to prison for a few weeks, and even if the idea of his being a potential felon didn’t scare you, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous around the unknown. You’ve had a few more weeks to get to know the others on the team. He tries not to take it personally that you’re closer with some of them than you are him. 

Plus, you’re awfully shy. 

Spencer’s been trying to communicate that he’s an idiot. He was shy, once, and he tends to be shy about things now, too, even if he’s taken to hiding that. He hides a lot, these days. 

But things aren’t hopeless with you. You’re inarguably his best work friend now that Morgan’s not around, taking the desk next to his —through coincidence or insistence, he has no idea. 

“What flavour do you have today?” he asks. 

You show him your bag. The convenience store outside of work has the strangest sweets from all sorts of places. You’ve been bringing in a different bag each day, and you always share. “Today is apricot and peach ‘millions’,” you tell him, shaking the bright pink bag like a rattle. 

Inside, the millions bounce against each other like miniscule polystyrene balls but with a heavier weight. 

“Awesome!” he says, holding out his hand. “Please?” 

You rip the corner and tip a generous helping of candies into his palm, doing the same in your own hand. “Ready?” you ask. 

“Three, two, one.” 

You both tip your heads back at the same time. Apricot and peach are similar flavours, and Spencer can’t tell the difference when they’re both in play. He can also taste apple juice and the sharp citric acid flavour they put in every candy. 

He can’t tell if you like them. He quite enjoys it, will happily eat the leftovers if you’re not interested, but your attention isn’t on the candy when he looks up. You’re staring straight at him. 

“What?” he asks, perturbed. 

“Nothing, just. Had a rough morning. Thanks for trying the candy with me.” 

He frowns. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do to make you feel better. I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Spencer’s sure that to an outsider, he and the team appear to travel to a hundred cities a month. In reality, cases aren’t as densely packed, especially with the government expanding their profiling teams, and the majority of Spencer’s day is spent answering emails and giving advice to agents, law enforcement, and his colleagues. He doesn’t see much of you (where you’re forced to work ViCAP calibration as newbies usually are, almost like a hazing) but he does take you that hot chocolate around lunch time. Just to make sure you have the option. 

It’s sometime past four PM when you appear again. 

“Hey,” he says, turning to you where you’re paused behind your desk chair, “you're finally done?” 

“Not yet. So many case files to transcribe, opinions to cross check, signatures and…” You wince. “It’s a lot. You already know.” 

“I don’t, actually. I only ever had to do ViCAP as punishment, and I was extremely well-behaved. For a while, anyway.” 

You hesitate with something heavy on the tip of your tongue. You’re like every profiler wherein your tells are self-identified and quelled, but you’re still so new, and Spencer’s an expert. You want to ask him for something, but you don’t think you’re allowed. If he presses the issue you’ll shut down, and if he offers you another cup of hot chocolate you’ll simply drink it without letting him in on the real secret. 

Spencer waits. 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say yes, just… You’re the nicest friend I have, and you always know what I need to hear. Um, I know you don’t like touching people and I wouldn’t ask you to if you don’t want to, but it’s been a really long time since someone hugged me, and…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, until you’re whispering, and then fizzling out. 

“You want a hug?” he asks, surprised. 

“If that’s okay.” 

“I give really good hugs,” he warns, climbing from his chair immediately, arms opened, an unmissable invitation. “You’ll never get over it.” 

“Really?” 

He can’t believe you came to him specifically for a hug. He’s gonna lose his mind. Gentle, Spencer ushers you into his arms, head quick to duck down, his thumb on your shoulder. 

You could’ve asked anybody in the office for a hug. Penelope would have hugged your brains out. Emily, Unit Chief and secret sweetheart, would’ve taken you off of ViCAP and given you a loving pat on the back. But you didn’t ask Penelope or Emily, you asked him. 

“You don’t have to ask me first,” he says quietly. 

“You don’t like touching.” 

“That’s more to do with germs, and I’m not worried about yours,” he says. “Unless you’re about to tell me you have a headache.” 

“It’s like this pounding behind my eyes,” you say with a laugh. 

Spencer smiles, his mouth and nose to the side of your head. He gives you a good ten seconds of quiet, his palm warming your shoulder, before he murmurs, “Any better?” 

“You’re really warm,” you murmur back. 

Spencer resists the urge to squeeze you. “It's the oxytocin.”

“Or you’re just really, really warm.”

[quitealotofsodapop]

because this ask brought the Jttw Stone Egged Au (+the Post au) to the front of my brain;

I suggest an... interesting encounter the Pilgrims can have on their Journey while in the Country of Jisai. Macaque was in the middle of baby-carrying duty (a task he accepted wholeheartedly) when he encountered a stranger with odd words to say;

Stranger: "Nüwa blesses you." Macaque, surprised: "Oh! Thanks..." Stranger: "Do they have a name yet?" Macaque, focuses on the baby in his arms: "Yeah, we've been considering Xiaotian. Our Little Heaven." Stranger: "Beautiful." Macaque, cheeky smile: "I credit my mate though. I probably would have called them"Macaque's Kid" or something. I'm terrible for names." Stranger, chuckling: "He certainly has far to go to fit his title! It will take him a long time to be recognised with the renown such a name begets." Macaque, amused: "Oh, let me guess, you're some kind of fortune-teller?" Stranger: "In a way. I can sense when certain actions affect the future." Macaque, interested: "Huh. I have a similar ability, though it's not very reliable. I need the wind to pass by my ears and block out everything else to get something tangible." Stranger: "I know. Your title is Six Eared Macaque for a reason." Macaque, suspicious: "So you know who I am..." Stranger: "I do not wish any harm. I only wish to see the little one who's altered so much of the future. Even I was taken aback by what was changed..." Macaque, cautious: "You can look at them. But if he makes a single chirp, you're history." Stranger, carefully peers past the sling: "I understand. He's too precious. Your lives are enriched tenfold by his presence. Which is why I was surprised to see him born so early this time." Macaque: "This time? Do you mean-" Wukong:, some distance away "Moon! Master found a place for us to stay for the night! Time to regroup!" Stranger: "That's my cue to leave. I don't need the sight of the chaos to tell me that Mama isn't keen on well-wishers at the moment. Take care of that child, Liu'er Mihou. And take care of Sun Wukong. They're the only reason you breath at this moment." Macaque: "Wait! What do you mean-!" Stranger: (*transforms into a green bird and flies away*) Wukong, catches up: "Who was that Mihou?" Macaque, holds out baby for Wukong: "I dunno. Some demon with fortune-telling abilities wanting to see the cub. Says he has far to go in the future." Wukong, taking the baby into his arms: "Hopefully not a future as as eventful as our pasts. How's my little apricot doing?" Xiaotian: (*lazily yawns, having slept through the whole encounter. Reaches out chubby little hands to his parent.*) Macaque, smiling fondly: "Nah. Nothing big. Xiaotian is going to have a childhood we never got. A normal one." Wukong, sly smile as he cuddles the baby: "Oh, is it Xiaotian now?" Macaque: (*blushes as he realises*) Wukong: "Did you finally come around to my naming suggestion? Or did the fortune-teller say you would?" Macaque, still sheepish: "Whatever, sunshine."

A certain green bird would appear from time to time after this encounter. Mostly watching from afar to make sure that the little family stayed safe and out of harm's way. Macaque and Wukong were always suspicious of the creature, but it soon left without much explanation.

Xiangliu is happy that Xiaotian managed to find another way to be born before his time. Hopefully he'll have more time to prepare for what is to come...

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Forgetting

Carol Danvers x fem!reader Warnings: established relationship, long distance, fluffy times, explicit language, implied sex (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: It's been nearly a year since you've seen your girlfriend and almost two months since you've heard from her. And you're beginning to worry that she's forgotten about you. After all, the universe is a big place.

357 days. That’s how long it had been since you’d seen your girlfriend. You tried to think of yourself like a military spouse. After all, Carol did used to be in the Air Force. And she did travel to far-away, dangerous places to protect people, with very limited communication for long periods of time. It’s just that her dangerous locations were in other galaxies instead of other countries.

You were used to her being gone or, well, as used to it as you could be. The longer her absence went on, the more used to it you got, but somehow it also became harder. When she first set off on this mission, she’d been in your galaxy, so communications had come faster and with more regularity. Less space and time for them to travel through. But the farther away she got, the longer it took her messages to get to you. You were lucky if you got one email a month.

It wasn’t personal. You knew that. She was far away. Even with the best technology S.H.I.E.L.D. could provide to a civilian, her communication with you was still slow and limited. But, god, you missed her. You missed her laugh. You missed the warmth of her next to you in bed. You missed the way she propped her leg up when she sat down, no matter what kind of chair it was. You hung on every word of her emails, going over them so often you’d memorized them.

It had been two months since Carol’s last email. It was a long time to go without communication, even for her. The irrational part of your brain was desperately worried for her. There’s no telling what kind of high-risk situations she got herself into out there. But you knew that if anyone could handle themselves against all the forces of evil in the universe, it was Carol. You also knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. would have contacted you immediately had anything happened to her.

Another part of your brain–equally irrational but much harder to talk down–worried that Carol had forgotten you. The universe that Carol traversed was huge. Infinite, even. She saw things no one else had ever seen. Met people and experienced cultures that were so different from ours on Earth that we’d never even dream them up. Who’s to say she hadn’t found somewhere–someone–more beautiful than here, with you? She saw entire worlds, the neverending canvas of space and time. How could it possibly be that, of all the things in the known universe, you were the one worth coming home to? You always worried that maybe, this time, you weren’t.

As you climbed into bed, missing, as always, the feeling of Carol’s arms wrapped around you, the rise and fall of her chest as she slept, you once again pulled up her most recent email. From 61 days ago.

Hi, baby. I hope all’s well on Earth. I’m sad I’m missing spring–you know it’s my favorite season. Are there apricots on the tree yet? Or just buds? I’d give an arm for an apricot right now. I’m farther out than normal, so you might not hear from me for a while. One of the Andromedas. 2.7 lightyears away, if you can believe it. It scares me a little to be so far away from you.

I know I’ve said it before, but it gets lonely out here. Sometimes I wish you could come with me, but I know your body wouldn’t handle space-time travel like mine does. Superhero probs. Also, it’s probably not fair for me to make you put your entire life on pause just because I miss you like crazy.

It’s so beautiful out here in a weird, quiet way. I wish you could see it. Yesterday, I passed a pulsar. A star carcass, as I like to call them. They’re these gigantic masses of spinning light that put out radio signals (which might interfere with how quickly you get this, fuck pulsars). You’ve never seen something so big. So big it’s almost hard to believe it’s really there.

Anyway. I’m rambling. I miss you so much. I always miss you, but this time feels harder for some reason. I miss the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. I miss the way your hair sticks up in the morning. I miss kissing you. I miss doing more than kissing you. I just miss you.

I’m not sure when I’ll get home, but I think about you every day, every second. Nothing in this galaxy or the next or the next compares to you. Please stay safe. Don’t be sad. Snuggle Goose for me.

I love you.

Carol

You fell asleep reading through the email, again and again, your phone going dark in your hand beside you as you drifted off. You dreamed of pulsars. You dreamed of Carol.

Hours later, you jerked awake, gasping, as you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey!” a voice said, calming, reassuring. “It’s just me.”

You’d know that voice anywhere. “Carol!” you squealed, grabbing her and pulling her onto the bed with you, holding her as tight as possible so she could never, ever leave you for so long again. “You’re home!”

You felt her smile against you as she buried her face in your neck, wrapping her strong arms around you. She smelled metallic, almost like gunpowder; you knew it by now–the smell of space. “Hi, baby,” she whispered, breathing you in. “I missed you so much.”

Still holding you close, Carol sat up a bit to just look at you, just take you in. She ran her hand along your cheekbone and pressed a warm kiss to your mouth. A kiss you’d been so desperate for, you thought you might die from relief. Her lips tasted like space, too, the way metal smells after rain. So uniquely her. How many other people could say they knew the taste of space?

“Are you crying?!” Carol asked, alarmed, as she brushed a few tears from under your eyelids.

You sniffed and mumbled, “I thought maybe you forgot about me.”

Carol pulled you to her chest, running her fingers through your hair, lightly grazing her fingernails against your scalp. You shivered at the sensation.

“Oh, baby,” she breathed. “I could never forget about you.”

“But there’s so much out there.”

“Mmhm,” she said, kissing your nose. “And none of it’s as beautiful as you.”

When she moved to stand up, you grasped her hands. “No, no! Stay here and snuggle!”

She laughed, grinning from ear to ear, as she pushed your hair back from your face. “I have to shower, Y/N. I smell like an asteroid.”

You leapt out of bed to stand next to her, looping your arm and hand through hers and leaning against her shoulder. You couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get close enough. You never wanted to let her go.

“Can I join you?” you asked, blushing a little. After all, it had been nearly a year.

Carol looked at you lovingly, smiling softly, a few of her own tears building. She squeezed your hand and dragged you after her into the bathroom. “God, yes.”

[readychilledwine]

Lost Bonds pt 4

Summary - The last thing Tamlin planned to have happen was a bond snapping between him and Y/N Archeron. Now the big question becomes, is it too late to fix what has been broken?

Warnings - stereotypical happy ever after, grudges, cutting ties with family, rhysand being a decent brother in law, divorce, children, babies, pregnancy, reader's powers are yin to Nesta's yang, loosely edited (squint away any mistakes💕)

A/n - I know some people might be upset with the direction this ended in, but it felt... right? Forgive me.

✨️Tamlin Masterlist✨️

Lost Bonds: Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

The Fire in Spring *can be read as a bonus Calanmai smut scene*

Rhysand was eerily calm as Azriel approached his office with Feyre. For the first time since her arrival here, Feyre would be in a seat he typically only forced the Inner Circle to instead of at his side.

Rhys sat and waited, hands laced together as they entered. “You are probably wondering why I asked you two to come in. Sit.” He motioned to the chairs across from him, not missing the look of confusion on Feyre's face. He waited for them to settle before saying the one thing he knew would begin the fight he prepared himself for, “I sent y/n to Spring yesterday. For Calanmai.”

Azriel's hands instantly twitched, and the fight began.

Three weeks had past with you and Tamlin and Tamlin and you. They were spent deep in the throes of passion. In need and want and want and need and every lingering emotion in between.

He had worshiped you. Truly and fully. He explored every inch of skin, tasting and kissing it every time like it was his last meal, like these were his last moments and he would rather spend them nowhere else than between the thighs he had become obsessed with.

It had taken 3 weeks for the bond to cool down enough for him to attempt to go back to his duties. He still ached for you and the completion that came with being yours, and you ached as well. You were like air to each other. Something so simple, yet so vital to life.

He sighed as he entered his office and sat in front of Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. “You selfish-”

His hand went up. “If you're going to start throwing names around, shadowsinger, I have several for you. Be silent and allow me to discuss this with your lord and lady.”

Rhys was the first to speak after the blatant dismissal. “Where is she?”

“She should be resting. She's had a long morning already. She spent the morning with other Ladies of the Court discussing the upcoming Summer celebrations. I believe she is still socializing, though. I do not keep track of her constantly. She is a grown adult.”

Feyre scoffed and Tamlin raised his brow at her before she instantly looked down. “Is she happy?”

“Happier than I've been in a long time,” you entered the room, long hair falling in waves, an apricot colored dress swaying as you did. The colors of Spring made you even more radiant, your skin glowing, eyes dancing with light that had been missing for several years. “I assume you brought papers for me.”

You moved to Tamlin, standing behind him and holding a hand out for his. Feyre was shaking, refusing to look at you. “If you sign this, if you choose to stay, I never want to see you again.” The words should have cut like a knife, but all you could do was sigh.

“Would you like me to stay in Night then?”

Azriel glared towards Tamlin. “Its where you belong. Where your husband is. Where your family is.”

“Where your mate is,” you began to trail on for him. “Where you can have your cake and eat it too. Where your family has spent the past 4 years letting you make a fool out of me. Fond memories, yes.”

“Our marriage wasn't always unhappy, y/n.”

“No. But it became unhappy the second you had an affair. Sign the papers, Azriel.”

Rhysand stayed oddly silent, as did Tamlin, the two high lords were in a silent conversation regarding the scent only they seemed to be able to detect. You were not leaving Spring, not when you, albeit unknowingly, were carrying its salvation inside of you.

Tamlin pointed to the line that would grant you your freedom. Tapping it twice in a silent message to you to sign and stay at his side as he watched Azriel. He had no doubt the male planned on grabbing you, upset that he was losing his own claim to a made sister, upset that the Cauldron had paired him with another.

Tamlin knew his look. The look of a male who wanted everything with no compromise. He remembered being there. Being that male. He knew the pain that came with it, the anger. He watched you sign, signature so flawless and soft, curling the page that gave you freedom and you stepped back. Hiding that joy that was flooding him as you did.

“I won't stop fighting for you.”

You shook your head as you laid the ring on the desk and slid it to him. “You will. You will realize this was best for both of us in time. You will find happiness, peace, and what you are looking for.”

“I won't sign.”

Rhysand pinched his nose and then picked at his jacket, a nervous habit now instead of obsession. “Azriel, sign the papers.”

“I won't-”

“You will because I have tolerated every moment of this bull shit knowing it is against every law we have honored for thousands of years.” Tamlin was oddly calm, hand still in yours. “I tolerated it for her happiness.”

“She was happy with me.”

“Until 4 years ago, yes.”

You turned to Rhysand, eyes pleading. “Please.” Her brother in law nodded, taking her side and owning his error another time.

“Sign the papers, Azriel.” Feyre and Azriel seemed to freeze. It was a set command, one the shadowsinger would not be able to push. “Sign the papers.”

“I will never forgive you for this.”

Rhys shrugged. “I'll add it to the many times I was doing what was best for everyone else but made the bad guy. Sign the papers.”

Azriel stared at Tamlin as he signed the papers before taking the ring and standing. He left without saying goodbye, without looking back at you one last time. Without even so much as a sign of the love you two once shared.

“You will never see Nyx again.” Tamlin tugged the bond, sending you his love and support regardless of what you picked but silently begging you to stay.

Your throat tightened as you looked to Feyre, “Are you truly that selfish? Without Tamlin, you would not even have Nyx. You wouldn't have a mate.” She glared at you, chin head high as you continued, “you were never met to be Tamlin's, Feyre. Imagine a world where you would have just let me go, where I came here as the person who was supposed to.” She suddenly looked away, eyes squeezing shut as she did. “If that is the road you would like us to go down, consider it done. You are no longer my sister, no longer my other half, no longer part of me. If my happiness means this little to you, then we need to part ways.”

Feyre just nodded, standing and holding her hand out to Rhysand. Your brother in law shook his head, nodding for her to go. He sunk further into the chair he was in before looking to you and Tamlin. “Congratulations,” in was sincere, soft. Rhys grabbed your hand, kissing the palm. “You will always have a home in Velaris.”

10 years later

Tamlin sighed quietly next to you, bouncing your third child and daughter, Willow, on his lap as the other two sat. Oakland, your oldest son, was reading with his back leaned against your legs. Fleur, your middle daughter, was sitting by the glittering fish pond every court was circling.

High Lord's meetings were now quarterly. A way of holding each other all in check and accountable. Each one was more of a bitchfest than productive, but it had allowed relations between several courts to improve.

This one had been called due to Helion stepping down. With Beron gone, Autumn stable, and his mate and son finally at his side, the High Lord decided there was no better way to celebrate than relinquishing his powers to Lucien and enjoying the lost time he should have had with Andromeda.

Lucien looked to Tamlin, a little lost on the question Rhysand was asking before clearing his throat to answer, “I will not be enforcing rank and class if that's what you are asking. Fae are fae. Lower or higher does not matter to me. Laws will be enforced, tax will be enforced, and opportunities will be fair.” Rhys seemed content in that answer, looking at Feyre and Nyx before nodding.

You two knew you were next and Tamlin sighed as he handed Willow to you, much to her protest. “Spring is fully rebuilt and has implemented a version of Tarquin’s laws that work best for us,” the mentioned high lord smiled and raised his bubbling wine. “Our army is young, growing, but eager.”

He looked to you, “We would appreciate the spies being removed from our court, though. We are willing to answer any questions someone may have. We feel the use of spies in unnecessary. We have opened our boarders and home to anyone."

“The mortals,” Eris began slowly. “They are?”

“Part of our court as of two months ago,” you answered for Tamlin. “We are the only court they agreed to form a pact with. Jurian and Vassa will remain ruling over them as a better connection point.”

Eris hummed. Satisfied with the answer.

“Will they be asking to travel?” Kal watched his daughter, stopping her before her snow pale hand touched the pond with a soft no. “There are concerns over them coming to Winter. They were not made for such temperatures.”

Tamlin nodded, “We had hoped to discuss that with each court one on one. They are… beautiful, curious creatures. They want to travel the courts and experience different foods and lifestyles. Provisions will need to be made for that to happen, though.”

You couldn't help but smile, hearing what you used to be called beautiful by the most stunning male you had ever seen. His hand moved to rest on your thigh, squeezing softly as the next question came.

“The growth in Spring, the herbs, the medicinal plants, the food, flowers,” Thesan took a short pause as he and his mate communicated silently. “How did that happen?”

Tamlin squeezed your thigh again. “Nesta was blessed with the powers of death. Y/n was blessed with the powers of fertility and live. Her presence alone has brought light and growth back to Spring.”

“And children,” Kal murmured. You chuckled softly. You knew your every growing family was a source if jealousy from several other High Lords and Ladies.

“Yes, and children. The increase of faelings in Spring has been our biggest blessing. We are averaging 20-25 babes a year instead of the standard 3.”

You watched Rhys smile behind his hand as Feyre still refused to look your way. “And how many more do you two plan on having?” The question came from Cassian. He had taken to his nieces and nephew like they were second nature to him. He was their favorite uncle, and Nesta was fighting Elain hard for favorite Auntie.

Tamlin looked at you. “Perhaps we will be done after this new one arrives.” You shook your head quickly, lip pouting out. “I promised her 12.” Eris and Lucien both spit out their wine. Having grown up with many siblings, the two of them both looked shocked as Helion and Lady Autumn both smiled wide. “We will decide here in a month or two.”

Your hand absentmindedly moved to your very swollen stomach. This one was a boy. You felt it in your soul, and new Tamlin was secretly excited over the idea of another beautiful son.

The meeting came to a close as soon as Summer finished their updates. Tamlin helped you stand, moving his hand to your lower back as he walked you and your three toddlers out of the room. You could feel both of their eyes on you. A lingering cold Hazel gaze, a heartbroken blue one.

He tugged the bond softly before winnowing you home and immediately taking you to bed as the children's nannies all came to collect them for nap time.

“She looked regretful,” Tamlin unlocked your dress, kissing your shoulder softly. “She will approach soon.”

“It doesn't matter if she does.” The acceptance came so easily now. “We have each other, our family. We have this,” you tugged the bond. “Nothing will come between our happy ever after.” You held your pinky to his, and he wrapped his much larger one around it. “To us and our happy ever after then.”

“To us, petal.”

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