#aws cedar

[sierra-cedar]

Public Sector Oracle Cloud

Sierra-Cedar helps state and local governments improve efficiency with Public Sector Oracle Cloud Applications. With 25+ years of experience, we've delivered 2,500+ successful projects for government entities and educational institutions. We offer implementation readiness and ongoing support for 85+ Oracle Cloud projects delivered since 2017. Contact us to simplify your cloud deployment.

[system-architect]

if you dont play revenant you might not know that revenants have dialogue lines where their own invoked legends (shiro, kalla, etc) talk to them and the revenant responds back, and these happen like CONSTANTLY-- it gets mildly disruptive sometimes when it plays over story voice acting or such, but that aside

i love thinking about this in a world lore context. like, shiro is talking to me in my head, right? is my revenant just standing in a crowd in lions arch and abruptly screaming "DO YOUR WORST! I AM IMPERVIOUS!" at nothing in particular, in front of onlookers? does he ever just suddenly make a Face and then go "sorry, glint was making those weird grunts again"?? i enjoy the thought.

[cedarspiced]

idk man i think there's definitely a difference between

"it can be disheartening for people to hear that you need a break from helping them in order to care for yourself (so you can keep helping them in the future), so it's a good idea to not publicly announce when you need a break, especially if you have a large platform."

and

"you ungrateful fuck, you should be thanking your lucky stars for the bare minimum of House and Food. there are millions of people who have neither and you should feel bad for not thinking about that 25/7 and putting all your remaining energy into solving those issues. shut up about your so-called ''compassion fatigue.'' "

one of these statements is going to be Extremely Unhelpful (to put it lightly) for anyone with moral OCD. i'll give you a hint: it's not the first one.

[chasingfictions]

i know we all already did trying to cut down ttpd to a listenable playlist but . alternate universe where ttpd was called prophecy

[fruity-phrog]

Help someone tell me why I read this as trans-storms

[shitpissboi]

Trick or treat >:)

Hehe another little spooky treat :3

Fish teeth >:)

[cedarspiced]

i'm acquainted with someone on the sex offender registry for pedophilia (before anyone says anything, it's bc he was caught having gay sex with a 16 year old as an 18 year old in the 80s, and it was decided that romeo and juliet laws didn't cover homosexuality -- already an example of how the sex offender registry is weaponized. he just got out of prison a couple years ago.)

this past winter was extremely cold. lots of people in my area had power outages and no way to heat their home. my acquaintance's neighbor was one of the people with no power, and no way to keep their newborn baby warm.

my acquaintance, however, did have power and heat. he offered to let his neighbors stay in his home so they could keep the baby warm until their power came back.

however, as part of being on the sex offender registry, he isn't supposed to be within a certain distance of anyone under 18. by letting his neighbor and their newborn into his home, he violated his parole and unless his parole officer was feeling merciful, he could easily be sent right back to prison. for doing the right thing.

the sex offender registry is fucking atrocious and just a way for authorities to exert even more power over marginalized peoples.

Bouncing off of your response to the 17yo sex question- the carceral aspect of our justice system aside, anything that leads to you getting listed as a registered sex offender in the US is gonna cut off your access to safety net programs (I work with housing benefits, we're required to deny services without exception to sex offenders). Which isn't just an issue with "consensual but statutorily illegal" situations, but also a major issue with queerphobic laws that've labeled queer sex or nonconforming gender expression as sex offenses.

to say nothing of unhoused people who catch the sex offender label for using the bathroom outdoors while having literally no other options.

and, if I can be real, even people who are on the sex offender's registry for actual factual sexual crimes shouldn't be denied basic rights such as housing. fucking anyone explain to me how that's helping anything or making anyone safe. fucking hideous system we live in.

[viscerast]

living up to my old title for funzies (slut brian)

[bettysupremacy]

Hi lovie!!! I love ur fics! I would love to see a Remus fic with an inexperienced gf! Not smut but like the convo before it like May be she's super anxious bc she's worried she won't make Remus feel good or like what if Remus hates the way she looks?? And Remus is reassuring her

thankkk youu for the request he’s so cute, 17+ just cause it’s a lil suggestive yanno

When Remus had asked you to stay the night through bleary eyes after the movie had ended, you hadn’t had the strength to say no. When he leaned in to kiss you, his knee nestled between your thighs, you knew you made the right decision.

His kisses were soft and breathless, growing more intense as you moved beneath him. He was warm and broad, hard to quit.

His hand grazes your thigh now, though you know better than to think of it as intention. He pulls up, trailing wet kisses down your cheek and neck. You gasp, tugging on his brown hair.

“I’ve never..”

He buries in your neck. He smells like warm vanilla and books. Maybe cedar. You dunno, you’re not a chemist.

“Been touched?” He asks innocently. His tone almost makes you smile.

His lips are pink and swollen from his attack on you. You swipe at the corner softly and he turns his head to kiss the pad of your thumb. He’s sweet, and his smile afterwards is stupid. He’s awful.

“Yeah.” You murmur, looking down at where his hand falls flat over your sock. Your knee had been hiked up in the frenzy. His hand roams up from your sock to hold your knee.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to do anything till you’re ready.”

You nod, looking him in the eyes. His are soft and round. “But what if you don’t.. like it?”

“That’s very vague,” he smiles at you a little. “like what?”

“Me,” you’re almost silent. “Or like.. when we’re doing.. it..”

He wants to laugh but he doesn’t want to upset you. “I wouldn’t care about that either.”

“My body?”

He shakes his head adamantly. “Do you know what I look like?”

He eyes his scars. They run over his body, weaving through each other at times. You don’t care about them, don’t let your eyes wonder. You found yourself doing it at times when you first met him, almost immediately looking away guilty. You weren’t judgmental of the puffy lines that run through him, just curious.

“I’ve never cared about that.” Your eyebrows furrow.

“Exactly,” he pushes some hair away from your eyes. “Why would I?”

You nod, breathing out. He’s right and you know it. He wouldn’t shy away from the meat of your tummy or the happy trail under your belly button. Wouldn’t gawp at your thighs or the swell of your breasts.

Well, maybe he would, but for different reasons.

“I want to do that.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Right now?”

“Um,” you murmur, eyes falling away from him.

“That’s okay too.”

He’s very genuine, grasping your jaw in his hand. He just wants to look at you. That’s it. Your eyes and your nose, your cheeks and your lips. They’re as pink as his, also puffy, slightly swollen. He smiles at the sight, dipping to drop his forehead against yours. He exhales softly, nudging the bridge of his nose against yours. It’s a quiet moment before you speak.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

You nod, shying away from his eyes again, leaning up toward him.

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs, mouth dangerously close to yours to be asking that question. Yet, you know if you said no he’d move away.

“Mhm.”

He dips back down, softer than before. You don’t know what to do with your hands, reaching up to hold his cheeks softly. You can feel the skin of his face move into a smile.

“Can I..” he starts slowly, dropping down for a slow kiss before continuing. “Do this?”

He reaches his broad hand to the hem of your shirt, nudging it up a little. Your tummy flips as he looks back up for confirmation. You nod, and he pushes his hand under, not roaming too far. He holds himself accountable, stopping right under the band of your bra. His hips lower too. You can feel him against you as he holds you closer, kissing deeper.

“I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs, if not to himself, to you. “I’ll be gentle.”

[petriwriting]

My Chef - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: You stay the night at Theo's, he makes you dinner. Oneshot. Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Little-bit of soft Theo. Established relationship, Sad-about-his-dead-mom-Theo.

A/N: You're telling me fannon italian!Theo can't cook pasta? Nah. Based on a scene from the movie chef. Bonus: Here's the recipe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJUiWdM__Qw

It was a quiet evening, you were at Theo's house, luckily his father hadn't bothered being home all weekend. Otherwise, the house would have been an un-ideal place to be with his father around. but the house was silent, apart from the Nott house elf, who was tidying the halls, despite Theo telling him to take the night off. You were wearing Theo's jumper, laying in his bed. You'd been relaxing. Since school was out for the summer, there wasn't really much else to do. You had mentioned you were hungry, and without much notice Theo disappeared into the kitchen. It was sweet, he said he could cook for you, which he had never done before.

You wandered through the halls of his house, looking curiously at how sterile the house seemed. There wasn't many family photos, or really much decoration. One photo was of Theo and his father, which made you smile slightly seeing it. As you made your way into the kitchen, you were met with the smell of fresh pasta.

Theo was kneading the dough, although he was unfortunately making a mess. He smiled as he greeted you. "Hi," he said softly. you sat at the kitchen counter, watching him work. "This part isn't as fun." He said. "Well it looks like fun." you chuckled. "Do you want to try?" he asked. "sure." you washed you hands, rolling up your sleeves and standing in front of the ball of dough on the counter, you were watching Theo's hands as he demonstrated. . .

Theo stood behind you, wrapping his arms around you, sprinkling some more flour over the work surface. "just like this." he said softly, taking your hands and guiding your movements. you flushed slightly, feeling the warmth of your cheeks from being so close to him. You could smell his scent, it was a mixture of tobacco and cedar.

"Okay, my arms are a bit sore now." you admitted. "Maybe it isn't all that fun." you said. Theo chuckled. "I'll take it from here then," he said happily. you turned to him, he was so close to your face. You wanted to kiss him, but didn't, instead taking a bit of flour and tapping it onto his nose. He laughed, playing along after wiping himself off.

"that was rude," he quipped jokingly.

You continued to linger around the kitchen, watching Theo as he cooked. You had no idea previously that he could cook, as it wasn't a skill that most men have.

The smell of fresh garlic filled the home as your stomach growled in hunger. Theodore Nott would make an amazing housewife, he was kind, attentive and he could cook. It made you feel warm and fuzzy to think that he would, in fact made an excellent husband one day. After some time, he broke the silence. "have a seat," theo said finally. "I'll set the table for us."

You follow suit, taking a seat at the large dining table. watching as Theo set two plates on the table, napkins, and cutlery. he even grabbed two glasses to pour each of you a glass of wine to pair with the dinner, finally lighting a candle, just for ambiance.

A relaxed afternoon had now blossomed into a somewhat romantic date. you were not complaining at all.

"Thank you for cooking, Ted." you said, before taking a bite. It was sweet, it wasn't very often that Theo would lean into his italian heritage, although on that night you were very thankful for it. "Of course," he says. "Buon appetito." 

As you took your first bite, it was delicious. you were in awe, each flavor complimented each other perfectly. "oh merlin." you exclaimed. "This is delicious!" Theo smiled, watching you enjoy his work he was quite pleased with himself.

you finished up pretty quickly, sitting at the table with Theo. before too long you were sipping wine together. "Where did you learn to cook like that?" you asked curiously.

"Well," he said, slightly stiffening up. "My mother taught me to make fresh pasta as a child." he explained, "It's one of my favorite memories with her." he said somewhat sadly.

"Oh. I'm sorry." you said quietly. "It's alright." he insisted. "It's nice to honor her memory." you were silent, letting Theo speak, it was relief for him to finally be able to talk about it with someone who actually cared. you were happy to listen to him talk about his mother, or anything really. "I think she would have really liked you." he admitted. you smiled softly. "I would have loved to meet her." you said.

This was Theo's soft spot. "I wish she could have met you," he says, softly, looking down. You didn't want to pry, or come across as cold, so you rested your hand on his and rubbed his hand with your thumb gently. The two of you enjoyed your meal, and the glasses of wine. You were quietly because you were eating, and because it was genuinely a good home-cooked meal which you hadn't had in a while. after some time, You got up from your seat walking over to Theo, giving him a hug. a genuine embrace, which Theo melted into immediately.

"Thank you for dinner." you said softly. "It was really delicious. I didn't know you were secretly a chef," you smirked. This earned a chuckle out of Theo "Well, there's a lot most people don't know about me." he said. "But you aren't most people."

"yeah?" you asked, just wanting to hear him talk. when he opened up, which he rarely did from being scolded for it so many times in his life, it made you feel closer to him. "Yes."

"I don't think i've ever told anyone that before- About my mother." he admitted. "But it's different with you."

"why is that?" you asked. "Because i'm in love with you." he says simply, standing up, looking at you deeply. He was playing with your hands. you were smiling. it was a blissful moment. He was memorizing the contours of your face in the candle-light. he looked at you as if he would never see you again, soaking in the feeling. "And..." he said, very matter-of-factly, his more outward cocky attitude showing a bit more as he relaxed. "you know what they say," you looked at him, pretending to be confused. "What do they say?" you retorted. "Kiss the chef." he smiled softly, leaning into the embrace to kiss you, melting into the moment. It was a sweet and romantic kiss that you'd find in romance novels.

"I love you." he whispered. "I love you."

[letorip]

i heard your name [ii]

“i want you so, i can hardly let you go, please be mine for a time, now and forever”

===+++===

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: after several weeks of trying to run in the opposite direction, you find you can no longer evade the magnetic pull yanking you towards her

warnings: explicit but gender neutral sexual content, being used both physically and emotionally, 'lover boy' is used ironic and is still considered gender neutral, implied teacher-student relationships

word count: 6.4k

A/N: definitely making another already because it’s kind of getting juicy. again inspired by pale fire and hot summer nights.

===+++===

You had always heard that people looked like their pets, but it had never occurred to you that someone could look like their house. Standing in front of Lovell Hill, it was impossible anyone else but Cairo Sweet lived there.

The building stood tall, with white towering ionic columns that reached to hold up the dark clay tile roofing like soft angelic hands lifted to the sky. Everything about the house was big, with a giant, wide cedar porch and a towering balcony that looked out over the small garden in front of its door.

You had figured Cairo was well off from her clothes and general overabundance of education, but this screamed a wealth so extreme it almost wasn’t computing in your brain. Not with your own tawdry house that had only been built two years ago and was about the size of Cairo’s home if you sliced it by a quarter.

You had seen homes like these in movies or on the home improvement channels. Most motels had the home improvement channels on the TV, and you had watched with a sense of awe, sitting on the mouldy carpet late at night with your mom asleep behind you, looking at the muted tours of the homes with a private envy.

Such grandeur was incomprehensible and didn’t exist beyond the screen and TV magic. Or, that’s what you thought until you stood at the end of her garden, with all its greenery and a few lines of flowers, looking up at the front door.

It was quite the dilemma, to knock or not to knock. You could turn around right now, save yourself a whole bunch of sleepless nights and half a brain if you just told her you felt sick and had to cancel. She’d be annoyed, sure, but maybe Cairo being angry was better than Cairo being hungry.

You weren’t all too sure you wouldn’t try to satiate her hunger, and that was a dangerous game to play. Since she had sat down beside you in class, fleeting had been slowly drifting away, and you found yourself clutching onto what little of it you had left, rebuking the witchcraft that seemed to tug you to her.

You were about to do that, walk away, but then the door to the balcony swung open, and out Cairo came, leaning over the railing with a smile, and you felt your own heart clutch to your ribs. She propped her head up on her palm, peering down at you.

“Are you coming in?” She asked, laughing. “You’ve been standing there for ten minutes.”

“I’m just looking. At the landscaping,” you called up to her, and it was mostly true, though Cairo laughed like you were being funny. You felt a blush rising to your cheeks. Fleeting, you idiot.

“It’s my parents’ house. I know it’s a bit much,” said Cairo, standing up straighter.

“A bit?” you said, the sarcasm worming its way into your voice. It was a lot much.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling at you again all bright. “A bit.” You smiled back, holding a hand up to cover your eyes so you could continue to stare at her on the balcony in the sun, like your own Juliet.

“Can I come inside?” You asked, taking a few steps forward into the shadow the roof of her house casted over the ground. Cairo seemed to find a playfulness with the question, and you were left there like a moron, wondering why she was laughing again.

“No, actually,” she said. “I invited you here to make you walk over here and then walk home.”

“Did you."

“I did,” she nodded, having fun. “I’ll be down in a minute when I’m done with something; the front door is unlocked."

"That seems unsafe," you said.

She raised her eyebrows at you. "Why, are you worried for my safety?"

You shrugged, deciding neutrality was the best policy. There wasn't anything wrong with saying you were worried about her as a friend, but you knew she would draw some strange entendre. "I would worry about random people wandering in, to be honest."

Cairo shook her head. "Not here in Tennessee. Now go inside. The longer you stall me the longer it takes me to finish what I'm doing." With that, she disappeared back inside, leaving you on her porch. You swallowed the lump in your throat and went inside.

Cairo Sweet's house was much like her soul, in grandeur and in wealth. Even in the foyer, which was where you found yourself, the walls seemed to reach up much like the pillars, raised towards the covered sky. A grand staircase led up to the second floor, and with the soft closing of the door behind you, Cairo called out from up the stairs.

"You can go into the kitchen, I left some wine out on the counter."

You blinked. "Wine?" You said back, making sure you were hearing correctly. Cairo's laugh floated down from the second floor.

"Yes, 'wine.'" You had never had anything like wine before, though the way she threw it out so casually made you think she was no stranger to the concept.

The kitchen was the room right off to the left of the foyer, with a large bay window and some checkered ceramic tiling on the floor. In the centre sat an old gas range stove, a similar shade of green as the walls. The brass handle curved down to the drawer on the bottom, and it looked like a droll little mouth underneath the knobs.

On the white marbled countertop that boxed the stove in was a set of two glasses and a bottle of reddish wine that was three quarters full. The entire room was immaculately clean, with the perfectly angled chairs sitting around the nook table in the corner and the utterly spotless surfaces, both floor and table.

It looked just like those staged houses on the home improvement channels, and you wandered over to peer into the glass hutch, which was piled up with books in stacks around it. The top cabinet held an array of glassware, some of them gathering dust. They were pretty, and you leaned in to the ceramic ones with antique designs etched into the sides. You wanted to own dishes like those, someday.

"The plates are pretty, aren't they? It’s a real shame about the led.” You spun around to find Cairo behind you. Your heart immediately started doing a backflip in your chest. Cairo was no longer in the soft shirt and shorts she had been wearing on her balcony— no. Instead, she was now in a silky cream-coloured dress, one that clung to the curves of her body and hung elegantly from her shoulders in a way that made the tips of your ears warm.

She walked right up to you as if there was no difference, staring at the plate you had been looking at with what couldn't possibly be a genuine curiosity. Up close it was clear she had put on some makeup, her lips glossy and pink and her eyes dark. She had to know she was playing you like a fiddle.

You watched her in laser focus as she nodded at the plate. "My parents bought that one from a village in the Swiss Alps."

"What?" you mumbled, clever as always.

"The plate," she said, like it was obvious. "Most of the plates in there are from Switzerland or China."

"Oh...cool."

Cairo brushed past it, gesturing back to the bottle that sat on the counter. "Would you like some?" she asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

"But what would your parents say?" you asked. Mostly you were looking for any excuse not to, but you were also filled with curiosity. Cairo Sweet hadn't just fallen out of a coconut tree— she was the product of whatever her parents were like and you desired to put two and two together, and for that to make it make sense.

"They're not here right now," she replied, walking right over to the bottle and pulling the cork straight out. You swallowed but followed her over, and Cairo grabbed a glass to pour it into.

"So you live here?" It was a genuine question, and part of you was still struggling to understand that this was just someone's everyday lifestyle. Cairo nodded.

"That's what Winnie asked me too, when she first saw it. People say my house is haunted."

"They do?"

"Yeah," she said. "Lovell Hill. It's famous, or at least around here it is."

"Well... is it true?"

Cairo shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint. Only thing that lives here is me."

"And your parents?"

Her mouth thinned into a line at the question, but she spoke quickly. "Yes, them too." Then Cairo held up a glass. "Would you like some?"

"Uh, no thanks. We should probably start on the assignment...," you trailed off. Cairo was staring you down with a certain glint in her eye. “What?”

"You've never drank before," she said. It wasn't a question, and you could feel heat going back to your face. To any other person, you'd have no problem saying no, but to her you felt your breath catch in your throat.

"Uh, I have, I just don't want any right now," you lied. And Cairo knew you were lying, judging from the smile she watched you with. But she only shrugged.

"You can have some of mine later, then," she said, straightening up and walking out of the kitchen. You followed her like a proper guest, like she was a tour guide helping you through the jungle. You warily tailed her out of there and up the stairs.

On the landing there were even more books, in large, towering stacks near the railing, ended on each side by potted plants and small floor decorations. You stopped, taking a thick paperback from off the top of one stack and turning it over to read the back. “Have you really read all of these?” You asked. Cairo turned.

“Not all of them, no. Most of them belong to my parents, so they’re cheesy spy thrillers and soapy romances.”

You nodded. “My mom reads those ones too.”

“Anyways, what do you read?” Cairo asked, walking over to you and taking the book from your hands to look at it herself. You shrugged.

“For a while there, anything I could get my hands on.”

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"Uh, just that my mother didn't take me to bookstores a lot," you said, having gotten comfortable with lying. In reality, you had mostly read travel books and magazines from gas stations, since those were really the only places you and your mother stopped often. You didn't start actually reading book-books until you were about ten, and your mom bought you a kindle for your birthday.

But giving Cairo the truth would mean telling her you were on the road a lot, which would mean telling her about why it was you moved so often, which would mean telling her you would probably be leaving soon, so you lied. It was typically a better idea to vanish without warning one day, off to another state like you had been one giant bad dream.

"Mm," she hummed it agreement, putting the book back down and leading the way into a door that stood at the far end of the hall. "My parents didn't either, when they realised I bought like ten or twelve at a time," she said, tugging you into her bedroom.

It was exactly like you could have imagined it, with a darker shade of green and ebony wainscoting that matched the grand bed in the middle of the room with fluffy, lush bedding and a near mountain of pillows in the centre.

"Well then," Cairo drawled. "Shall we?"

The smirk she was staring at you with sent a shiver down your spine. You gave her a cautious nod and pulled your backpack off of your back.

===+++===

You had your paper almost completely done within an hour of laying down on Cairo's bed to write it, though in the corner where Cairo sat typing hers, she seemed incredibly frustrated. You had only been observing her a little, watching her type what could've maybe been a few words and then immediately holding down the delete key until they were all gone.

You understood to a certain extent— windows were so unbelievably symbolic it was possible to go in millions of directions when writing your story. But you were almost done, and inspiration had hit you from the moment you knew what your symbol was meant to be.

You put the final finishing sentences in where they were meant to go, and put down your pen, sitting up to crack your fingers and stretch your back. Cairo looked up at you, eyes glaring.

"You're finished?" Her tone was sharp, and you looked around the room in surprise.

"Yeah?" You replied. Cairo narrowed her eyes at you.

"How," she demanded sitting up in her chair and slamming her laptop shut.

You shrugged. "I don't know, I kind of rushed it anyhow."

"Let me read it, (Y/n)," Cairo said, holding her hand out. You leaned forwards and tossed the paper to her, rolling over onto your back to stare up at the ceiling while she read it. She had one of those popcorn roofs, with bumps all over it, and you found yourself tracing a little path in your mind.

"This is..." she said after a few minutes. You turned your head to look at her sideways. "This is really good," said Cairo, but in a way that made your eyebrows furrow.

"Why'd you say it like that?" you asked, sitting up from where you had been laying.

"Like what?" She asked standing up from her chair and walking towards you, to lean on one of the bedposts. You swallowed.

"I... don't know," you muttered.

"Hm," she hummed. "I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"The astronaut. The one who goes crazy in outer space from looking out the window on his solo mission. Is that supposed to be you?"

"Oh. No, he isn't. He's just a character I thought of," you shook your head. Cairo raised an eyebrow at you.

"But he is a lot like you, isn't he? Alone, I mean. That's why you lied to Winnie about lunch." She got you with that line. You stared at her, frowning. Your mind screamed LIE over and over, but you knew there was no point. Not when she was reading you like a book. She took another step towards you, until she was standing in between your legs where you sat. You hadn't realised there was any connection with the astronaut when you thought of him, but maybe he was?

"Are you lonely, (Y/n)?"

"No? I mean, I don't think I am." It came out in a whisper; you didn't need to speak loudly when Cairo was so close. You could feel her hot breath on your cheeks like a fan.

"I've been thinking of you, since you arrived," Cairo murmured. Her fingers crawled up your knee slowly, the pads of her fingers brushing the hem of your shorts. She looked down at the small space between you.

"Yeah?" You asked.

"You're captivating," she said. "It's annoying. Shrouded in mystery and answering to no one."

"Yeah?" Pink was flushing towards your cheeks.

She smiled, looking up at your face again. "Yeah. It would be less distracting if you didn't come with such nice eyes."

You swallowed. It felt like everywhere her fingers went she left behind a trail of pure fire, churning up your insides. Your mind was screaming at you to not be an idiot. You'd probably regret this in a month or two when your mom told you you would be leaving again. Stop, right now and save yourself so much sleep, you idiot. That would've been the smart thing to do.

Her hands came up slowly, skimming gently up your neck until they landed at the nape, and you were reminded of the lollipop she had plucked from your lips to place in her own for a moment.

"Cairo, what're we doing?" you managed. Cairo shrugged.

"You ask me that but I'm not entirely sure. I just know it feels nice," she whispered to you. "So shut up and let me feel nice," she said with a smile.

Within an instant, her lips pressed hard into your own. You pulled your head back in surprise but Cairo's soft palms held you firmly where you sat, and you found yourself melting at the feeling. It was messy and it wasn't graceful, but it spoke of the passion that bubbled under Cairo's removed exterior. She started to move against you then, and you against her.

You found yourself entranced at the sensation, and pulled away just to get a look at her face. She was breathing heavily, lips red and eyes wild, and you only came back wanting more, reconnecting the both of you, your hands moving to her waist and then up her back.

"Cairo..." you mumbled, her lips moving to your jaw and then hastily to your ear.

"Mm," she hummed.

"Cairo, I can't," you managed, trying to pull away but finding her still on you. Your mind was yelling at you horrible, horrible things, not only about yourself but about what you wanted to do to her.

"Mm," she sounded again, moving down your neck in a way that left you tingly.

"Really, I just—"

"Take my hands off of you, then," she challenged, in between peppering kisses and sucking on a spot directly over your pulse. You shivered.

"I can't."

"Well, I guess we're at a crossroads," she said. Her right hand slid down your chest to the hem of your shirt, sliding gently underneath and laying itself flat against your stomach. She smirked when she reconnected your lips, knowing she was winning.

"This is a really bad idea."

"You talk too much."

"No, because this is really a conflict of interest. We're supposed to uh..." you stammered, getting distracted by he hand on your stomach slowly getting lower and lower, creeping towards the top of your shorts. "We're supposed read each other's stuff and be honest."

Cairo stopped, pulling away, raising her eyebrows at you. "Are you serious? You don't want to have sex with me —when you've been practically eye-fucking me since we met— so that you can be an honest peer grader???"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds stupid."

"That's because it is stupid."

"I— I just can't do that with someone."

She scoffed. "Are you waiting until marriage or something?"

"No."

"Are you asexual?"

"No."

"Is it Winnie?"

"No."

"Do you like boys?"

"No!"

"Then why? I mean, come on. We both knew this would end one of two ways."

"We're better off as just classmates, trust me."

Cairo blinked at you for a moment, like you were the most confusing person she had ever met. Then she got up off of you. Your lap felt lighter, but also emptier, and you wanted to scream up at the stars for not being able to just indulge this one little desire.

"Fine," she said, and her tone caught you off guard. Most people would probably be upset or angry, but it just seemed like Cairo was challenged and endeared. Like she was going to work out your problem and get right back to this situation, only this time she'd get exactly as she wanted.

She wouldn't, you promised yourself. Never ever. The heartbreak wasn't worth it. Cairo checked her watch. "Could you come over tomorrow too? I'm not done with my story yet, and I want you to read it."

"Uh," you thought out loud. You didn't see why not. Maybe you wouldn't be lovers, but just innocent friends? You weren't so much a monster that you wouldn't be able to stop yourself if you hung out with her. Innocent friends were much easier to forget anyways. "Sure," you said, unknowingly giving her exactly what she wanted.

===+++===

You had gone to her house almost every night for the past week, laying on her bed while she sat in the corner in the same familiar chair, typing the same bloody story that she refused to be satisfied with. It was becoming a pattern, even an unconscious one. The next day had been entirely as awkward as expected, with you trying to act as unbothered as possible.

The friendship was going better than you had anticipated, and you were very pleased with your own self restraint. Winnie had come over too, once or twice, and you enjoyed existing within the context but still on the periphery of a friendship.

Cairo Sweet would hunt you down as her friend or as her whatever-you-were, so you figured giving into one would be the path of least resistance anyhow.

She must have been an insanely picky writer. She wrote every word with an overabundant caution, like she was trying so hard to craft perfection. It was like she wanted her keyboard to drip liquid gold onto the page, and the critics to all collectively clap when she finished a sentence.

"You're like George R. R. Martin with how slow you finish a story," you had said once, out of the blue. Cairo looked up at you, offended, and thrown a pillow in your direction that connected with your face.

"I'm trying to cultivate perfection of the written word," she said, and you rolled your eyes.

"God, writers are so pretentious," you wrinkled your nose. "The only people who like to read annoying writers' books are annoying people."

Cairo scoffed. "Yeah, what, you want to be surrounded by James Bond fans? Stephen King fanboys?"

"That's cool, though," you shrugged. "Gets the point across, isn't badly written, and makes a sometimes beautiful passage along the way."

"Oh, so your writing," she joked, smiling at you. It was an innocent smile, and one that so starkly contrasted the lustful one she had looked at you with only a few days ago. Even in memory, her eyes sent a shiver up your spine.

"Yeah, well, people seem to like it. I guess I’m doing something right," you said. Cairo frowned.

"I don't get it," she shook her head. "And you still won't let me read that first one you wrote."

"It's not exactly something I want to talk about to you."

"Why? Is it bad?" she asked, sitting up straight. You knew she meant 'tell me your dirty secrets' by that.

"I just don't want to."

"Hm," she grumbled, laying back in the chair. "And anyways, if what you say about that thing is true, I don't know why Miller liked it. His book is full of the flowery stuff you complain about."

"He wrote a book???" You were incredulous.

Cairo nodded. "A while ago. Apostrophes and Ampersands."

"Never heard of it."

Cairo shrugged. "It didn't exactly make massive waves. It was ingenious though. Grand and tragic."

"You read it then?" You asked, sitting up and turning towards her.

"Yes, I did," she replied nonchalantly. "I enjoyed it."

You looked out the window for a moment, then back to her. Friends should be friends. "Can I borrow your copy?"

===+++===

"God," you groaned, reading Mr. Miller's book with it held over your head, laying on your back. Cairo had given it to you two days ago and now you were slogging through it, waiting for it to get interesting. "'Human ruins of a madman's love,'" you mocked.

"It's gorgeous," Cairo said. She wasn't in her usual chair, she was sitting by the window with it cracked open, a cigarette in her hand.

"It's not— wait, are you smoking?" You asked, sitting up. Cairo rolled her eyes, grinning at you.

"No, I'm just sitting here with a cigarette lit in my fingers."

"God. Wine and a cigarette, what are you, thirty-four."

"Shut up," she said, putting the cigarette in between her lips and puffing out the window. "And anyways that quote is beautiful."

"Maybe," you challenged. "But what is it actually saying?"

"She means everything to him and he's going crazy for her," Cairo said, like it was obvious. You nodded.

"That's the thought and THAT'S what's good there. That's universal. He's losing the plot— getting lost in the sauce— of trying to sound like he's saying something, to the point where he's losing the entire meat of the message."

"Maybe," said Cairo. "But you said one of your books was If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Not exactly the height of literature."

"And I stand by that," You said. "That's actually enjoyable. You don't enjoy reading this, you enjoy being clever enough to read this, when it's saying something you've heard a million times in a million more decipherable ways. And those ways end up being more beautiful, too.”

"Perhaps," she said. "Or maybe I think the writing is beautiful."

"Well then, I think you're crazy."

"You're welcome to do that," Cairo replied, smile still wide. "You probably will."

===+++===

You managed not to cave until a warmer day, about a week after that. Cairo Sweet had previously been a sweet exterior with absolutely nothing on the inside for you to feel a deep pull towards. Only now, after slowly becoming comfortable, was the magnetic pull becoming physically painful.

Winnie had been absolutely beside herself, miffed at Cairo coming down and swiping you for herself. For a friend or for something more, it didn't matter. You were indisputably hers. And after a life of belonging to no one, you thought maybe Cairo took some sort of glee over making you belong to her.

Class was boring, Mr. Miller was fine, your mom seemed to be doing better, and school seemed to drone on. So when you came back to Cairo's house like normal, you were entirely unaware of how quickly you would fail your mission.

You were barely in door before she was running down the stairs, and the look of worry and surprise in your face only worsened when she got so up close to you, just for a second, and then just as hungry and hurriedly as before, kissed you with a brutal ferocity.

You were taken aback. Something was off. You pulled your head away and Cairo's palms pressed to your cheeks, thumbs brushing against the side of your face. She pulled you back and you had to turn your head away. "Cairo, what—"

"Shut up for once, please. Just kiss me the way a girl wants to be kissed."

You could feel every neuron telling you to get away from her. This was exactly what you had said you didn't want. And then there was the other side of you. The one that wanted to take her right then and then. You swallowed.

"I can't do these kinds of connections, Cairo. I told you."

"That's fine," Cairo rushed, her hand resting on your shoulder blade now. "I need one thing from you, and that's it. I don't ask for much, but I really need this."

Your eyebrows furrowed at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You've said you don't want anything, and okay, that’s fine. At least give me your body for the night. No strings attached.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I don’t owe you anything, you don’t owe me. We just do whatever this is. You make me feel good, and that’s it.” Her fingers had slithered back up to your hair, scratching gently at your scalp in a way that pulled your focus.

It just took a final glance at her face, for the dam to break. Her cheeks were a dusty red, eyes dilated and staring at you, and though you cursed yourself and your idiot Cro-Magnon mind, your palms went to her legs, tugging her up harshly and wrapping her legs around your waist.

“Shit,” you muttered, highly aware this was probably a bad idea. Cairo wrapped her arms around your neck, kissing you with a smile, and then once that broke, a passionate fervour. It was so much but it was so good. You carried her like that, up the stairs to her room, throwing her down on the bed.

She flipped you over, sitting on your lap like she had been back when the both of you first tried this, and it was all too intoxicating. Cairo’s hands went to your shoulders, pushing you back against the mattress before she leaned over, kissing you softly for a moment until it grew into more.

“Wait—” You said, and Cairo sat up, glaring at you.

“You did not get me all the way up here just to back out now,” said Cairo, annoyed beyond belief. You shook your head, tugging her back onto you. Her hair fell around you like a shield to your little private moment.

“I’m not backing out,” you promised, whispering because you felt like you didn’t want to be too loud. “I mean I’ve never … before.”

Cairo smiled at you, looking into your eyes for a moment. “Me neither,” she whispered back.

“Really?” you asked. Cairo raised her eyebrows.

“Fuck you.”

“No,” you shook your head, hand reaching up to move some of her hair out of her face. That wasn’t how you meant it. “…Really?”

She paused, eyes boring into yours. Then she gently nodded, and lowered herself down onto you, placing her lips on yours for another divine moment. It was all too hot in there. She let out a gasp when you tugged down her skirt.

===+++===

It was about five weeks after you had arrived, and you had gone to Cairo's house almost every week day, to continue exactly what had latched around your throat and tugged you harshly towards her.

There, in the milky white lighting of Cairo's table lamp, with her body snugly laying back against you and her book out in front of her, you fell in love for the first time. Really, fell in love.

Not the kind of "love" that swirls around your head as a child and wraps around the leg of the pretty girl in your class who has shiny hair. That kind of “love” where you can't get out a real sentence while talking to her. In comparison to the heavy feeling growing in your chest like a tumour, that was a mild liking.

No, this was the real thing. Adults had always said cryptic things about love, like "when you know, you'll know," and it hadn't ever really made sense, until it did.

As you looked down to watch her nose scrunch from the Nabokov, those three little words took on a whole new meaning. Her dark hair tickled the bare skin of your chest where she laid. Unlike her you still hadn't put your shirt back on, and you shivered a bit, even from under her blanket and her body heat. Her eyes, dark and focused, scanned across the paper, before elegantly flipping past the page with her thumb.

It was one of those renaissance paintings people cried for, in the Louvre, only it was playing out right in front of your eyes. And with that sudden rush of messy emotion, came the dastardly realisation that you were truly fucked.

"You're staring," she said, pulling you from your thoughts. She looked up at you, curious eyes focusing on your own. "What're you staring for?"

You shrugged, the movement shaking her against you. "What's the book you're reading?" You asked. "You seem mad at it."

She hummed, leaving her finger as a bookmark and flipping the cover towards you. The cover read Pale Fire. "That's because it's mostly incoherent rambling," she said. "Makes no sense."

You raised your eyebrows at her. "You don't understand Pale Fire?"

She tilted her head back, challenging you. “And you do?" You nodded. You had written a report during the two months you were in Maine. "Of course you do,” Cairo groaned, rolling her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked.

Cairo shook her head, patting the side of your leg with her free hand. “Nothing.”

You sat up. “No, seriously. What do you mean?”

She sighed, closing the book around her index finger to hold her page. Cairo shut her eyes for a second, choosing her words carefully. “I mean... you’re annoyingly clever at something you don’t really care about.”

You laughed. "Careful, Sweet. If I didn't know any better I'd say you're jealous."

"Well, I am," said Cairo. "I care about writing so much, and here you come along with literally no passion for it, and you're out-writing me."

"Uh, sorry?" You said with a smile. But the frown you saw on her face told you she wasn't really joking. Cairo scoffed, sitting up and turning towards you.

"No, I'm serious. You barely even try and you spill some amazing few paragraphs, and Mr. Miller loves you like you're his favourite student," she lamented, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"I promise," you sighed, "that I really don't mean to. I don't get it either, so—"

"—See, but that's what's so frustrating!" She cut you off. "You don't mean to. You don't mean to get in my way, but you do because you're so unbelievably perfect at everything, and Mr. Miller loves you so much."

"Okay, wait a minute," you said. "That's not fair."

"What's 'not fair' is me working my ass off until senior year to get to do what I've ALWAYS wanted to do, WRITE, and then you come along and pull all the praise and probably the recommendation letter too!"

You sat there for a moment, taking her words in, your mouth open in surprise. There had always been an inkling that Cairo was unhappy with having you in her class, but you had drowned the thought out with her lips on yours and treasuring every moment you made her smile with something stupid you said.

You cleared your throat and Cairo was already apologising. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," she said, reaching towards you. "It's just so important to me, I get really worked up..."

"It's fine," you rushed. You knew people screamed and said nasty stuff when they were mad. It's just how people were, and it made sense to you. Your mom was like that too, with the yelling and stuff. "Do you..." you mumbled, trying to figure out how to solve her problem. "Do you want me to stop trying?" You asked.

Cairo's eyes lit up within an instant at the idea. "That would be amazing," she breathed. "Thank you so much." She reached across the space between you, kissing with a softness that hadn't previously been there. It was sweet, just like she was, and you breathed a sigh of relief, with the confrontation being over.

You nodded. "Sure." Then your gaze went out the window, realising the sun was starting to set and rain clouds were starting to form. Your hand flew to your leg, having forgotten you were only in your underwear.

"You left it downstairs, remember?" Cairo said, almost playful. When the two of you had gotten to her house, her lips had been so firmly ravaging your neck that your pants hadn't even made it up the stairs before she tugged them off and flung them to the marble bust that stood nearby. You sighed.

"Do you know what time it is?" You asked, getting up from the bed and around to the other side to pick your shirt up off the floor. Cairo also got up, throwing the sheets off herself and walking right over to her closet.

"No, I left my phone at school on accident," she replied, opening the door and flicking through the hangers. You pulled the shirt on over your head and fixed the soft collar. On the opposite side of the room, Cairo pulled out the same cream-coloured dress she had been wearing when you first came to study with her. You paused.

"You're getting all fancy?" You asked, turning to her floor mirror and attempting to fix your absolutely messy hair in a way that it wouldn't be clear Cairo had run her hands through it and gripped on tight.

"Mhm," Cairo said. "Having a guest over tonight."

"Oh. They work with your parents or something?" You said, turning to watch her with curiosity over her answer. Cairo pulled off her shirt so that she was now completely naked. She turned back to you with a smile.

"Do you like what you see?" said Cairo, and it made you blush a bit. You nodded.

"You're absolutely beautiful," you said. If you weren't worried about getting home before dinner, you would have walked right over to her and tugged her back into her bed. Cairo waved you off.

"You're too kind," she said. "Now run on home, lover boy." Cairo disappeared into the bathroom with the dress in her hand, and you heard her rustling around with the sink, probably doing her makeup.

"I... I guess I'll see you, then," you said, left alone in the room.

"Mhm," she called from the bathroom. You frowned, but did a final scan for anything you needed to take before heading out her bedroom door and down the stairs, to where your jeans were clumsily thrown over the Roman statue's head. You tugged your phone and keys from the pocket.

"Fuck," you cursed. Only around thirty minutes to get the whole way across town to your house before your mom started worrying. You walked right over to the door... only to find it was also pouring down rain, now. Dammit. You tugged on your jacket from where it had been hanging on a steel coatrack by the door, pulling the hood up.

You walked out onto the porch, shut the door behind you, and took off running, going as fast as you could down the garden and then up the street into the woods. You got about a hundred metres from her house, that was, until you stopped.

Driving right past you, barely able to see him in the storm, was Mr. Miller. Driving right to Cairo's house in his little sedan. You froze, stopping dead in the rain to watch him go. Even after his license plate retreated in the distance, you felt a sickening sense of dread begin to pool in your gut, one that was already tarnishing your prior bliss.

===+++===

part three perhaps? i also have a tara carpenter one in the works and a lorraine day that's mostly done so hopefully i'll be updating more frequently

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[sashiavi]

✧˚·.SashiAvi's Kinktober Day Six.·˚✧

#6|Skinny Dipping|#6

Sebastian x Reader - Word Count - 2.3k

•··········•·············°·············•☆•·············°·············•··········•

There was something serene about the mountain lake at night. White moon beaming down its gaze, the dazzly lights of the stars freckled over the water’s clear surface, rippling against the bank. Frogs croak in the distance, their chests beating out with each ribbit, a sing-along with the chorus of crickets chirping their way through the night.

Sebastian can barely hear it though. 

Ears cotton stuffed, deaf to the rest of the world, his eyes hyper-focused on you; The way you look up at him, skin naked and wet, hidden away under the water’s surface save for the supple skin of your collarbones and shoulders. Careful droplets caress over your form, rolling down your wet skin, going home to the pool below.

“Hi..” It’s all he can muster, running a palm down each side of your waist, holding the divet from your ribs to hips, letting his fingers sink into the soft curve of your body.

If he knew this was how a simple night smoke would have gone then Yoba, he would gladly become a chain smoker, blowing through pack after pack to have you just like this. To have a chance of catching you walking his way. To keep you from going home in a timely manner to selfishly drink up your company. You weren’t new to each other. Finding that sweet dance of playful sex, fooling around during your shared moments of downtime, exploring your bodies through rough bites and hard, snapping rolls of hips.

This was something else. Something all-new and different.

It started with a quip, some stupid thing that had managed to catch your attention, striking up a conversation full of sarcasm, dry and witty, bordering on something self-deprecating. You fed into it, spurring the conversation along, even accepting the butt of his cigarette when he offered it up to you. Oh, how your lips wrapped around the filter as you take in a drag, blowing that spicy smoke out from your lungs, up into the air before it wafts away.

Closer and closer you came together, leaned up against the thick bark of a cedar tree by the bank of the lake, shaded by the soft shaking leaves, hidden from the moonlight, faces lit up by the soft orange glow of the cigarette with each pulling drag. Sebastian’s lazy, squinted eyes flick between your own, watching the glint of moisture spark with the flickering burn of the minuscule blaze. His teeth sink into the pierced flesh of his bottom lip, Adam’s apple bobbing with his dry attempt at a swallow.

Tensions. Oh, tensions.

Rising up and up until they boil over.

You breathe out slow, letting the thick smoke escape your lungs, leaning close, blowing the spiced air gently into his face, chin tilted up as if you were going to press your lips into his own. Of course you pull away, holding the dying cigarette to his lips, watching the ash burn bright with a final pulling drag before the poor butt is flicked away. Sebastian holds his breath in his lungs, letting his palm cup your jaw, long fingers spreading to hold your face, thumb brushing once over with a caress.

You part your lips for him, breathing in his smoke, taking the shotgun with a little quirk of a grin cracking at the corner of your mouth. Honest to Yoba, Sebastian nearly lets himself hum out a sound of need, aching to get his lips on a newfound craving, to hell with his smokes, you were worse than nicotine, wanting to taste you on his lips and never get rid of everything you could give him. Before he can even get a kiss in, your finger stops him, pressed into the plump swell in a shushing motion, a light chuckle huffing from your throat.

You pull away and he chases, pitifully leaning forward into the newfound empty space, awing at the effect you have on the otherwise stoic man. You throw him a look over your shoulder, easily slipping off your top, throwing the fabric his way, shielding his view of your stripping form before he hears the wavering wave of the lake, moulding around your body as you get in. You were something spontaneous, ripping him from his comfort zone, somehow urging him to remove his own clothes with a cheeky beckon of your finger and a light, sing-song call of his name.

You were a siren, he was sure, pulling him against his own judgements as if he were hogtied, making his heart beat hard on his ribs, getting his mind to follow your call.

“Water’s nice, Sebby~” It's really all it takes for him to chase you like a lost kitten.

Of course you tease and run, splashing him with water, flicking droplets with a kick of your legs when you try to avoid him, play-fighting under the beam of the moon, disrupting the flat surface of the water. Push and pull, cat and mouse- Except Sebastian isn’t entirely sure who exactly the mouse was in this situation.

But you’re ever so gracious, aren't you? Wrapping your arms around his neck, legs hooking on to him as if you were a koala, lifted effortlessly thanks to the gravity defying properties the water blessed you with. He greets you, and you breathe back.

“Hi yourself..” Twinkly, sparkly eyes kissed by the moonlight. It's all he can think about. Your gorgeous face all damp, ends of your hair lapped at by the water, lightly moistened thanks to all the play teasing.

Words are useless.

Especially when his lips are on your own, moulding to your sweet mouth, deep and spit filled with tongues swirling over each other, noses huffing in search of air, and yet refusing to properly pull away. It's all silent sighs against each other's lips, clicky spit-filled swallows as you try to catch your breath, arms tightening around his neck in a desperate lock, fingers threading through the hair on the back of his head. Sebastian’s hands wander, down your waist, squeezing your hips, curving over your ass for leverage, carefully grinding you into the swelling pudge of his cock, making himself at home between your warm folds. That's what this was; Warm. So, so warm on his skin, shivering goosebumps down his back at the juxtaposition of the cool, lapping water.

He moans, and so do you. Swallowing down each other’s sounds with feverish kisses, lips moving harder and faster, slipping from the slow tandem you had roped yourself into, more teeth, clattering and clipping with little care - Hands racking through his hair, grabbing healthy fistfuls with a squeezing a tug, palms squishing the fat of your ass in a groping massage. 

“Fuck me-” You chirp between hot kisses, squeezing your legs around him tighter, pushing the swell of your tits into his chest. Sebastian groans, clumsily moving you to the bank of the lake, pressing you into the slope of sandy, pebbly dirt, bodies still mingled within the lapping water. Your hair is not spared from being drenched and sand-filled, cool water kissing your skin, washing over the hot press of your bodies. Sebasian’s hands dig into the ground, fingers scratching lines into the surface with a pebbly drag, taking desperate fistfuls as his lips continue to devour your own. 

His chest huffs, eyes glued shut as his kisses move, biting down your neck, letting himself suckle deep bruises and teeth-filled nibbles into all the sensitive spots of your skin. You cry out, breathing his name with a hiccup in your throat, fingers twisting a tug against his hair, thighs squishing him harder against you. The sound makes his cock bob, that call out into the open air, right by his own home, crying out for his attention seemingly uncaring of any prying ears that could be nearby. 

He couldn't hold back, not like this, Yoba- He needed you, needed to sink his cock into your cunt, feel the warmth wrap all snug around his veiny length, save himself from the bite of the night air and the lap of shallow water licking at your bodies. His own tongue dares to lap up those droplets on your skin, licking the rough of his taste buds up your soft neck, finishing with a spitty kiss to your ear before he growls out.

“Put me in, Princess.. That's it- cmon..” He urges, nuzzling his temple against your own, coaxing you through the process of sinking him into your heat. “Hold me like that- fuck.. Tugging on me so sweetly.. Getting me nice and hard f’you? Yeahahh?” He can’t help but babble a little, spurred on by his own desperation, something he brought upon himself- Nothing kills a man faster than his own head.

“Promise- promise you’ll fuck me- please.. Pleaseplease-” You slip his head between your folds, sticky-wet even through the wash of water between your laps.

“Promise, Baby- Gonna fuck you s’good, s’okay- I gotcha.. I gotcha..hahh-” He nods, rolling his hips while he speaks his promises, sliding through the fat of your pussy, knocking on your clit.

Sometimes to stay alive you've got to kill your mind. And it dies. Any legible thoughts killed away with the warm sink of his cock into your supple, velvety cunt, pulsing hard with a thick, veiny throb when the pudge of his head kisses a press into your cervix.

Sebastian muffles a groan, huffed with an ‘oomph’ from his teeth-bitten lips, already starting a steady rhythm, humping into your cunt, letting your legs pull him in over and over. God, you mewl, chin tilted up to the night sky, hands clawing into his hair, fingers squeezing at the swell of his shoulder, doing your very best to pull him closer. It's impossible and yet? He craves it, needs to be pressed into you in every way possible, lapping at your tongue, fucking snappy thrusts into your creamy cunt.

He pulls back to see you, shining in that bath of moonlight, dark and lathered in sweet mystery at the luna’s kiss, the lake water pooling around your hips shining bright with those twinkles of light, lapping at your skin with each rolling thrust of his hips.

“Fuck..” More, More- Needs to see more.

His gritty sand groaned dirt covered hands pry at your legs, pressing rough grains into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, pressing you down into the water- The sweetest mating press one ever could muster - Legs spread nice and wide for him, pinned and stinging with the grit of dirt, knees rocking in tandem with each snap of his hips. Don’t get him started on the noises. Mewly moans and chanting babbles of his name dribbling from your lips, the squelchy sweetness of your cunt paired with the repetitive ripple of water following his every thrust. Skin splashes together, sprays of dribbling droplets coming off of the connection, bodies clapping together with a vulgar ‘plap, plap, plap.’

“Ahh.. hmmn~ S-Seb-!” You writhe and moan, squirming against the sandy bank, one hand gripped desperately at one of his wrists holding pressure into your spread legs, grounding yourself with him. The other messes with your clit, rolling the bud between your fingers, circling the sweet thing with the flat of your fingertips all while his hips smush into your knuckles with every grinding roll.

Sebastian’s palms slide up, hooking under your knees, into the soft underside connecting the joint, grinding your poor skin into the pebbly lake floor. He mounts himself on you, fucking feverishly into your cunt, hips moving down with obnoxious claps, splashy water perpetuating the noise- He stuffs his face into your neck, lips and teeth back on your skin, sinking down into the supple flesh while his cock dares to throb. 

Closer and closer- Feeling a build up in the depths of his gut, veins gushing warm blood into the tip of his cock with a hot flex, threatening to spill and burst-

“Cumming-! S..Sebastian! Ohhh Baby please- please!” You beat him to it, crying out for him so sweetly like that, sobby sounds cutting through the splash of water rippling with his fucks, fingers tightening on his wrist, speeding up against the bead of your cunt.

“That's it- Cum f’me.. Gonna be right there, Princess- Fuckk take me there-” His throat growls out a deep groan, teeth grit while he keeps up those praises, sweet talking you through the brunt of your orgasm, laughing a huffy, arousal tainted chuckle all light from his chest when you cream. Sweet and squeezy, velvety walls massaging the length of his cock as you cum, pussy suckling him in, inviting the hot pulse of his own orgasm with a loving hug.

His hips snap in sharp staccatos, throat stuck in a perpetual growl with each lingering fuck as he spurts. He creams into you, hot and ropey filling up the depths of your sweetness, milked off by your squeezing. His eyes dare to roll, jaw going slack with sloppy, hasteful kisses, voice box betraying him with shameless praises and confessions, accidental “I fuckin love you’s” gasped into the skin of your neck.

He gifts you a final grind, rocking his hips in small motions, working you through the comedown, handsy palms opting to pet and soothe at your thighs, tickling the skin from the inner depths of your bikini line all the way up to the knee. He helps your poor legs wrap back around him, nice and comfy while he comes down to knock his forehead into your own, resting his weight on his forearms, trapping you into your own little bubble. Away from the moon, hot breaths huffing in the space, crickets entering Sebastian’s ears once more, the surrounding atmosphere gracing its presence in his mind once again. 

He swallows thick, breathing hard, nuzzling his nose before pulling away just enough to see you.

“Hi..” It's all soft giggles of disbelief from there.

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some soft Sebby today <3

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any thoughts please let me know! I'd love to hear them <3 your words spur my heart on!

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[cedarspiced]

i feel like gregor fucking mendel.

[dandelions-143]

First Time - Jeongin

Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count:3300

Warnings: this one’s softer but still MDNI, 18+ ONLY (this kinda sweet and pretty tame)

No summary just smut under the cut

Jeongin watched nervously as you began to undress, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes widened, drinking in every inch of exposed skin with a mixture of awe and trepidation. The soft curve of your shoulders, the gentle slope of your collarbone, the tantalizing glimpse of your waist - each revelation left him more breathless than the last. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, as his gaze traced the outline of your body.

His hands trembled visibly as he reached out towards you, fingers hesitating just inches from your skin. The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity, charged with anticipation and desire. Jeongin's breath came in short, shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his shirt.

As his fingertips finally made contact with your skin, a jolt of sensation coursed through both of your bodies. The touch was feather-light, almost reverent, as if he feared you might disappear at any moment. Jeongin's eyes fluttered closed briefly, overwhelmed by the softness beneath his fingers and the warmth radiating from your body.

When he opened them again, his gaze met yours, dark and intense with a swirling mix of emotions - desire, uncertainty, and a hint of vulnerability. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper, rough with emotion. "I'm so nervous," he admitted softly, the words catching in his throat. "You're so beautiful, and I... I want this to be perfect for you."

You smiled reassuringly, gently taking his hand. Your fingers intertwined, the warmth of his palm against yours sending a subtle shiver down your spine. "It's okay to be nervous," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "We can take things as slow as you need." You leaned in, your lips brushing against his cheek in a tender kiss. The subtle scent of his cologne filled your senses, a mix of cedar and citrus that made your heart flutter.

Standing in just your undergarments, you noticed Jeongin already sitting on the bed in his boxers. His gaze traveled over you, his eyes widening slightly as they took in every curve and contour of your body. A deep blush spread across his cheeks, the pink hue reaching the tips of his ears. "You're so perfect," he whispered, his voice barely audible, trembling with a mix of awe and nervousness. "I... I feel so inexperienced compared to you. What if I disappoint you? What if I can't make you feel good?"

You sat beside him, feeling the warmth radiating between your bodies. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, bringing you closer together. You could feel the slight tremor in his body, a physical manifestation of his anxiety. Gently, you placed your hand on his knee, your thumb tracing small, comforting circles on his skin. "I want you and no one else," you assured him softly, your eyes locked with his, conveying all the sincerity and affection you felt. "Tonight isn't about performance or experience. It's about us connecting, exploring each other. Let's just focus on being together, on feeling each other. Every touch, every kiss - it's all new and special because it's with you."

Jeongin reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against your arm. The gentle touch sent a wave of warmth through your body, like sunlight breaking through clouds. His eyes met yours, a swirling mix of nervousness and affection evident in their depths. "Is this okay?" he whispered softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of your shared heartbeats.

"It's perfect," you reassured him with a warm smile that reached your eyes. You moved closer, your presence enveloping him like a comforting embrace. Your hands found his, fingers intertwining naturally. You gave them a gentle squeeze, feeling the slight tremor in his touch. The connection between you deepened, built on a foundation of trust and care that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

Slowly, you leaned in, your foreheads touching in an intimate gesture. You could feel Jeongin's rapid heartbeat, its rhythm matching your own excited pulse. The air between you seemed charged, crackling with anticipation and tender emotion. In that moment, words weren't needed - your closeness spoke volumes. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, and you found yourself lost in the depth of his gaze, seeing a reflection of your own feelings mirrored there.

As your lips met in a tender kiss, Jeongin's initial nervousness began to fade. His touch, once hesitant, grew more confident with each passing moment. His hands, previously trembling, now moved with purpose, gently caressing your skin. The soft brush of his fingertips along your arms sent goosebumps over your skin, igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body.

You could feel the change in his demeanor, the way his body relaxed against yours. His movements, though still careful, were now guided by a genuine desire to explore and connect. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as if you had all the time in the world. Jeongin's lips moved against yours with a newfound assurance, his breath mingling with your own in a dance of shared intimacy.

Taking your time, you savored each sensation - the warmth of his skin, the gentle pressure of his hands, the soft sighs that escaped him. Every touch, every caress was infused with care and affection. You allowed your connection to unfold naturally, like a flower slowly blooming under the morning sun. In this moment, there was no rush, no urgency - just the two of you, exploring and discovering each other with tender curiosity.

Your panties clung to your skin, the delicate fabric soaked through with arousal. The thin material had become almost translucent, clinging to every curve and contour. The ache between your thighs intensified, a pulsing need that seemed to radiate through your entire body. Each subtle movement sent a shiver of sensation through your core, heightening your awareness of just how ready you were.

You pulled back slightly, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. The slight separation allowed cool air to rush between your bodies, making you acutely aware of every point of contact. Your gaze locked with his, pupils dilated with desire. You yearned to hear his breath catch, to feel the slight tremor in his touch as he explored your body. The anticipation was almost unbearable, electric tension crackling between you as you hovered on the precipice of deeper intimacy.

With trembling fingers, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. Jeongin's eyes followed, his pupils dilating with desire. Then you reached out and tugged at the waist band of his boxers, your heart racing as more of his pale skin was revealed.

As you gently removed his underwear, the sight before you left you breathless. His arousal was evident, impressive in its girth if not extraordinary in length. The veins along the shaft pulsed visibly with his quickened heartbeat. The tip, flushed a deep pink, glistened with anticipation.

Your gaze traveled upward, savoring every detail. Jeongin's abdomen was taut, defined muscles creating alluring lines that begged to be touched. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, the pale expanse broken only by rosy nipples and the faintest dusting of dark hair.

In that moment, he was breathtaking—a perfect blend of vulnerability and strength, nervousness and eagerness. The realization that he was yours sent a thrill of excitement through you, intensifying your desire.

You straddled him, positioning his length between your thighs. With exquisite slowness, you rolled your hips, gliding him through your slick folds. The sensation of his hardness against your sensitive skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. Jeongin gasped against your lips, his breath hot and ragged.

His hands gripped your hips more firmly, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he guided your movements with increasing confidence. You reveled in the contrast between his strong grip and the lingering tremor in his touch—a delicious mix of growing boldness and residual nervousness. As you continued to slide against him, his cock twitched noticeably, a generous bead of pre-cum emerging from the tip and mingling with your own abundant wetness. The slick warmth between your bodies intensified, heightening every sensation.

Jeongin's eyes fluttered closed, his long lashes casting delicate shadows on his flushed cheeks. The rosy hue had spread down his neck, a visual testament to his arousal. A soft, breathy moan escaped his lips, the sound low and rich, sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. The vibration of his voice seemed to resonate through your joined bodies. His head tilted back, exposing the elegant line of his throat—a temptation you couldn't resist. You leaned in, pressing your lips to the sensitive skin just below his jaw. Your tongue darted out, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling his pulse racing beneath. Jeongin's breath hitched at the contact, his fingers flexing against your hips in response.

You yearned to feel him fully, to share the intimate warmth of your bodies without barriers. Though the condom waited nearby, you prolonged your sensual dance, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you both, building exquisite tension.

As you leaned over to reach for the condom, your breasts brushed his chest. Jeongin's eyes flew open, dark with desire. He lifted his head, capturing your nipple in his mouth. His warm tongue against your sensitive bud drew a sharp gasp from you.

You arched into his touch, the condom momentarily forgotten as Jeongin alternated between gentle sucking and teasing flicks. His growing confidence showed in each moan you uttered, his hands roaming your back and sides with increasing boldness. The dual sensations of his mouth on your breast and his hardness pressed against your core were nearly overwhelming.

With trembling fingers, you carefully opened the condom wrapper. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you slowly rolled it down his length, feeling the heat of his arousal beneath your touch. As you positioned yourself above him, anticipation built, your heart racing.

The tip of his cock brushed your entrance, sending a shiver of pleasure through you. Exquisitely slow, you sank down onto him, keeping your eyes locked on his the entire time, savoring every inch as he filled you completely. The stretch was delicious—a perfect blend of pleasure and slight discomfort as your body adjusted.

Jeongin's lips parted in a silent gasp of ecstasy. His hands flew to your ass, gripping tightly as if to anchor himself against the overwhelming sensations. The muscles in his neck strained, his head thrown back against the pillow as he struggled to process the intense pleasure coursing through him.

His hips bucked involuntarily, driving him even deeper inside you and eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You began to move, lifting yourself until just the tip remained before sinking back down. Each movement sent sparks of pleasure radiating through your body, building a delicious tension in your core.

Jeongin's fingers dug into the soft flesh, likely leaving marks that you'd cherish later. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours, filled with a mix of awe and desperation. You could feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle taut as he fought for control.

The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure - soft gasps, breathy moans, and the rhythmic creak of the bed beneath you. The air grew thick and heavy, charged with the electricity of your passion.

Jeongin's breath came in short, ragged pants, his chest heaving. You could see the strain on his face, his brow furrowed as he battled against his impending release. His voice, when he spoke, was barely more than a strained whisper.

"I—I don't think I can... oh god, you feel so good... I can't hold back much longer," he stammered, his words punctuated by soft groans of pleasure.

You leaned down, pressing your forehead against his. The change in angle sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you gasped softly against his lips. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs stroking his flushed cheeks as you whispered back, your voice low and encouraging.

"It's okay, Jeongin. Don't hold back. I want to feel you let go..."

With those words of encouragement, Jeongin surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. His body tensed, muscles rippling beneath his skin as his fingers dug deeper into your skin. A low, guttural moan escaped his lips, the sound reverberating through his chest and sending shivers down your spine. His hips bucked involuntarily, driving him even deeper inside you as waves of pleasure washed over him. You could feel the pulsing of his release, each throb intensifying the connection between you.

You held him close, your bodies pressed together as if trying to meld into one. The tremors of his climax coursed through him, each aftershock causing his breath to hitch. His skin was flushed and warm against yours, a thin sheen of sweat making it glisten in the soft light. You could feel his heart racing, the rapid beats gradually slowing as the intensity of the moment began to subside.

Gently, you lowered yourself onto Jeongin's chest, both of you breathing heavily. The warmth of his skin against yours was comforting, a cocoon of intimacy enveloping you both. His chest rose and fell beneath you, each breath becoming deeper and more relaxed. Jeongin's arms wrapped around you, his embrace tender yet secure, as if he never wanted to let go.

You placed a soft, tender kiss on his forehead, tasting the salt on his skin. His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a look of wonder and contentment. "Did... did you finish?" Jeongin's chest rumbled with his words, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity. You smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness even in this moment of vulnerability. Leaning in, you kissed his lips gently, savoring the softness and the lingering taste of passion.

"I'm only focused on you," you whispered against his lips, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his chest. "We have plenty of time for that. You should feel comfortable and happy." Your words seemed to wash over him, easing any lingering tension from his body.

Jeongin's eyes softened, filled with a mixture of gratitude, affection, and something deeper—a look that made your heart skip a beat. He pulled you closer, if that was even possible, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His breath tickled your skin as he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "Thank you. This was perfect... you're perfect." The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making you feel cherished and adored.

As you lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside seemed to fade away. All that mattered was this moment, this connection you shared. The gentle rise and fall of Jeongin's chest, the soft caress of his fingers along your back, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat created a symphony of intimacy that lulled you both into a state of blissful contentment.

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[moonstruckme]

need more shy remus. please. begging. hands and knees. ANYTHING. i loved it so much genuinely.

Ask and you shall receieve. Thanks gorgeous! <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 794 words

You open the door to find Remus with a handful of what look to be carnations. 

“Well,” you say, smiling as you hold up your small bunch of dandelions, “this is awkward.” 

Remus blinks. You love to fluster him, amusement mingling with fondness in your chest until you can’t tell which is which, they’re both so big and happy. It’s your three-month anniversary, and despite your agreement just last week that neither of you would make a big deal, he’s clearly put extra effort into his appearance. There’s evidence of comb marks in his hair though it seems to have gotten tousled on the way to your flat (even better, in your opinion), he’s wearing that mossy green shirt you’d once told him makes his eyes look especially handsome, and you’re willing to bet that if you crossed the couple feet of air between you, you’d be able to smell the faintest whiff of his cologne. 

“Remus Lupin,” you tease, “have you put on chapstick just for me?” 

He blushes, rubbing his moisturized lips together self-consciously. “What,” he says quietly, “too presumptuous?” 

You laugh, taking him by his free hand to encourage him inside. You let him get close before stepping back, and there it is—a whiff of what he swears up and down is cedar cologne but has always smelt to you like frankincense and orange. Maybe by six months, you’ll be brave enough to stay right by his collar and take a big sniff, but for now you inhale as subtly as you can before moving out of his space. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think of what you’d do with yours if you were picking me up,” you say, trying not to skip as you go into the kitchen, grabbing a vase from under the sink. “Do you want me to put them in water and you can grab them before you go home, or would you rather take them with us now?”

Remus looks at you, expression wavering between befuddlement and awe. “Those are for me?” 

You laugh again. You can never seem to stop doing that around him, it just comes spooling out of you like a pulled thread. “Course they are. You like dandelions, right? Or did I get that wrong?” 

“I do.” His voice is soft, tentative. “How’d you know?” 

“You mentioned it once.” You shrug, arranging your carnations in the vase. It doesn’t take much work to make them pretty, all fresh and upbeat and still undoubtedly invigorated from Remus’ touch. They look like you feel. “You said there used to be a ton in the courtyard of your school, so I assumed they have some nostalgia value. So, vase?”

“I’ll take them,” he says, wrapping his hand around the stems tenderly. His forefinger touches your pinkie, and you both let the contact linger a moment longer than necessary before pulling away. The scar on his cheek stands out starkly against his blush, pushed up by a bashful smile. “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Warmth comes to your face in tandem with your chest, and you beam at him. “No problem.” The carnations look lovely in the center of your table, which reminds you that you’ve forgotten to tell Remus how lovely he looks. “You look really nice, by the way.” You give the words just long enough to find their mark, his flush worsening, before moving on so he doesn’t go mute on you like he has on a couple of occasions when you’ve laid on the affection too heavily. “Where is it we’re going again?”

Even with the subject change, it takes him a second to get his wits about him. “Um, I was thinking the cafe a couple of streets over,” he all but murmurs, doing that adorable thing where he seems to turn his eyes up to yours despite being taller than you. You’d kiss him on his pinkened cheek if you thought he’d ever recover. “We could go somewhere else, though. They have this chocolate torte I thought you might like, but if—”

“You like it there?” you ask, grabbing your keys from off the counter. 

Remus does a funny shrug-nod thing, as if to say Well, yeah, but what good is that?

“Then I’m sure it’ll be great,” you promise him, grabbing his hand to pull him out the door with you. “Chocolate torte sounds amazing, actually. How’d you know I was craving chocolate today?” 

“Figured it was the same as any day,” Remus mumbles, giving your hand a light squeeze. 

Another laugh startles out of you, and you can’t help yourself, going up on tiptoe to dot a kiss just beside his scar. 

Remus doesn’t speak again until you sit down at the cafe, but he never lets go of your hand.