#i also decided to finish this without my glasses so now i can barely see tbh lol

[pricknim]

not even she can stand this heat

[emeraldserenade]

Late Night Meeting ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: you only seemed to run into Joaquín at night in the kitchen

tw: fem!reader, limited use of y/n, reader has a RBF, annoying person named Clare (sorry if your name is Clare), barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Whoopsie, I kinda went MIA for a while because I had to drive back home and then I was just decompressing from my trip (there were bed bugs in my hotel and I've been miserable). Anyway, I'm back! My trip to see my friends was great AND I got the email last week that I passed my final chem exam! Anyway, now that I am back I will be focusing on finishing my requests but for the time being I hope you enjoy this.

A special shoutout to @sidkneeeee for wishing me luck on my final! Thank you for always reading, liking, and reblogging my stories as well as your kind words, they are very much appreciated and help me keep my motivation for writing.

➽──────────────❥

You moved into the compound after being recruited for the new Avengers. You had met the only other two here, Sam Wilson and Joaquín Torres. You smiled and shook their hands and expected to be treated the same way you always where. Like you would explode the world if someone even looked at you wrong. You knew you looked intimidating and that you would bite the head off anyone who wronged you. But it wasn't your fault that you have a resting bitch face.

You noticed something peculiar though, while both Sam and Joaquín would treat you like a normal person. You only ever seemed to see Sam around, Joaquín was always off doing something else or you just never heard anything about him. You just guessed that he was scared of you and what you could do, so you thought nothing of it. Until you wandered into the kitchen late one night to find him standing in front of a pot on the stove.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were in here," you muttered and moved to the fridge. You wanted the rest smoothie your smoothie rom earlier.

"Nah, you're good," Joaquín told you, flashing you a smile. You gave him one back and second guessed why he was never around. He didn't seem scared of you but he was also never around. You decided to put it to rest and head back to bed, your smoothie in hand and Joaquín watching you leave.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

After that meeting you seemed to run into him almost every night in the kitchen. You had the bad habit of always needing to drink something before bed and brushing your teeth. You would have to guess that it stemmed from your mom having you drink a glass of water every night before bed. And Joaquín seemed to always be snacking when you walked in.

"What are you snacking on today?" You questioned him, you two had started talking each night.

"I cut up an apple," he hummed and you watched him take a bite.

"Ah, nice," you replied and you two feel into a silence. Not an uncomfortable one, just a silence. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," Joaquín answered and you took a deep breath.

"Why do you avoid me during the day?" You rushed out but before he could answer, one of the newer recruits walked in. She had only joined a few days ago but she was all over Joaquín when possible.

"Joaquín! There you are!" She practically shrieked and you cringed at her volume. You didn't like her but sucked it up because Sam said she was needed for the team. You took her arrival as reason to leave and downed the rest of your drink before leaving. You shot Joaquín a quick smile, ignoring the glare from the girl, and headed down the hallway.

"What was that yell?" Sam groggily asked from his door when you passed.

"Newbie got real excited when she saw Joaquín," you informed him.

"She has a name," Sam mumbled.

"Eh, don't care at the moment," you gently kicked the ground in annoyance.

"Have a good night, y/n," Sam bid you a good night.

"You too, Sam," you waved gently and started heading down the hall to your room again.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

It was a few weeks in the kitchen without Joaquín, you had to guess that he was spending his nights with the newbie. You had resigned to the fact that you would be alone at night when Joaquín finally showed in the kitchen again.

"Is Clare here?" He looked around frantically and shook your head.

"No, why?" You tilted your head a little at the sigh of relief that he released.

"I've been trying to avoid her for weeks, it's why I haven't been here," he explained and you made a shocked face.

"Joaquín!" You heard the newbie say from the hallway and took his arm, grabbing an apple for him on the way out with your free hand. You dragged him to the closest room, his. You shoved him in the door and he pulled you along with him. You only then realized you forgot your drink, but before you had time to be sad, Joaquín handed it to you.

"I only avoid you during the day because I know if I saw you in daylight, I'd fall irrevocably in love with you," Joaquín told you and you gently gasped while handing him the apple.

"Huh?" You cursed yourself for not being more poetic.

"You asked me a few weeks ago why I avoid you during the day, it's because I know if I were to see you in the daylight. Your face lit and warmed by the sun while you smile and laugh with Sam over some joke, I'd fall in love with you," Joaquín reiterated and you stared at him, the straw of your drink stuck to your bottom lip.

"I'm in love with you," you blurted out and slapped a hand over your mouth in shock. "Wait, that-" Joaquín cut you off by removing your drink from your hand, the straw from where it was attached, kissing you. You melted into it and let out a content sigh.

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Masterlist | Requests

[moonstruckme]

tumblr is hiding the request from me :( but here it is, thanks for requesting!

request: Would you be willing to write about(if you havnt already) Remus X a chronic pain having reader(joint pain kinda similar to his but like all over, maybe reader also has to use a cane from time to time) that's SUPER stubborn about their pain and HATES admitting there's anything wrong with them so they don't take pain killers or use their cane unless forced to.

cw: chronic pain, pain meds

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You can’t get lost in your book. The words won’t pull you out of your body the way you need them to, so you’re watching raindrops race down the window instead. You bet on which one will win, sometimes changing your pick halfway through—because, really, you’re the one making the rules anyway—and then starting again from the top of the glass once the last round’s droplets puddle into the sill. 

You’re not sure who’s more miserable lately; you, or the sky. It’s been dull gray and weeping all week, clouds barely moving on cold winds. As if the weather isn’t making you ache enough, you slipped on the wet stairs outside your apartment yesterday and now have a nice, big bruise on your hip to boot. Remus keeps looking at the tinge of it peeking out of your trousers with a pitying little uptilt to his brows that makes you antsy. 

Remus groans as he shifts from his curled-up position next to you on the couch. He stretches his leg out, propping his ankle on the coffee table. You wince. You know he’s feeling this weather as badly as you are in his knees. 

“Alright?” you ask gently. 

He makes a low sound, halfway between a hum and a grunt. “I’ll live.” 

Remus turns his head your way, and you pretend to read your book again as you feel him scan you over. You try not to look too stiff in your own skin. To ease the grimace from your mouth. 

“How about you?” he asks. 

“Fine.” 

“Sure, dovey?” 

You know the endearment is meant to soften you. You look him right in the eyes. “Yeah.” 

He hums, holding your gaze. There’s sympathy in the warm honey brown of his eyes, the sort you can never decide whether to spurn or cling to, as well as a stubbornness to match your own. After a moment, he takes his foot off the table. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” he says, standing. “I’m getting painkillers.” 

You stand, too, fighting past the protests of your joints. “I’ll go.” 

“I’ve got it.” 

“Remus, you’re in pain.” 

You know you’re pushing it—the limits of this lie, that you’re not in just as much if not more pain than he is—and it appears Remus knows it too. Rather than saying it, he only levels you with a look. You sit down. 

Remus doesn’t have to bring the bottle of pain medication back with him after taking his own dose, but he does. He sets it right on the coffee table next to a tub of numbing cream, which he opens before rolling up the leg of his trousers. One at a time, he massages it into his sore knees. 

You pretend to yourself that your own joints don’t feel any worse for thinking of what relief might be like. The words on your page blur past your eyes. 

“Give me your hand, lovely.”

You look at Remus. He’s finished with his knees, but now he holds his hand out for you, a dollop of cream on his fingers. “Hm?” 

Your boyfriend sighs, exasperation coated in fondness. “Don’t. You’re hurting.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I can see it in your face.” 

You feel yourself frown. “It’s not that bad.” 

“What will it hurt?” His voice gentles. He keeps looking at you, until finally, you extend your hand. 

You know Remus knows how to be gentle with you. He’s good at helping without hurting, touch soothing over your skin and working the cream into every aching crevice. You hold in a sigh. 

“Sometimes,” Remus says in a thoughtful voice, “I catch myself dismissing my pain. And then I look at you, and I think how silly that is.” 

You take the opportunity to watch him while he’s not watching you. He looks peaceful. The furrow between his brows has shallowed, now borne of concentration rather than affliction or worry as he smooths his healing touch over your wrist and works his way up to your elbow. 

“I never want you to just put up with your pain. I don’t know why I do. But thinking about you doing the same thing helps me snap out of it, so,” Remus glances up at you, a tiny smile tugging at his lips, “thank you for that.” 

“Are you saying I’m silly?” You mean to tease, but your voice comes out infused with the sigh you’d held back. You sound tender and lovestruck; more vulnerable than you intended to be. 

“You’re silly when you won’t take care of yourself,” Remus answers unapologetically. “Even sillier when you won’t let me take care of you.” 

“It’s not your job,” you say quietly. 

He frowns. His thumb rubs softly over the tender jut of your elbow. “It’s both of our job.” 

“Thank you, but I don’t feel like I need the help. I manage it fine by myself.” 

“Sweetheart.” Remus looks at you. You’re caught like a fly in his honey trap. “It doesn’t make the pain any more or less real to treat it. You’re only helping it hurt you. It’s not a bad thing to take painkillers when you need them. Or to use your cane.” 

You stiffen at the introduction of a familiar argument. “I don’t need to use it.” 

“I know, lovely. You might not have had your fall yesterday if you had been, though.” 

Your hackles must be visibly raised, because Remus only looks at your face before softening his tone further, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. 

“I only wish you’d let us both look after you a bit better. And I hate to see you hurt.” His touch skims over that sliver of bruise showing above your trousers. “My poor girl.” 

You soften. Maybe it’s the tenderness of his touch, or the quiet ache in his voice, but you find yourself leaning over until your head rests on Remus’ shoulder. He continues massaging cream into your joints, diligent and loving. 

“It’s gotta go both ways,” you say, like you’re negotiating an agreement. 

“Of course it will.”

“You can’t just always be right. You have to listen when I tell you you’re being an idiot, too.” 

You hear more than see his smile. “But I so rarely am.” 

“Trust me,” you mumble, “it happens.” 

Remus chuckles and kisses your head. “Okay, dove. I’ll listen to you.”

[strwbrryeyes]

𖦹°｡⋆ Just an accessory (tsukishima kei x reader)

⟡ request: hiiiii ! i really like all the stuff u write for tsukki and various other haikyuu boys and was wondering how they'd react to u being upset with them ? like maybe the night before they invite u to celebrate a win with their team but barely paid any attention to u all night so u decide to go home early or just end up going separate ways at the end of the celebration ?

⟡ cw: angst, slight comfort at end but mostly angst, lmk if i missed anything

⟡ a/n: this is going to be multiple parts because i don't like writing small drabbles in one thing but i have two other characters in mind for this

Tsukishima would be pissy at first and say you’re overreacting but would feel bad about it eventually

“Okay, what’s your problem?” Tsukishima asks as he barges into the bathroom where you were doing your morning routine.

“What do you mean?” you ask back as you stare at him with a blank expression through the mirror.

“I mean why did you get out of bed without saying anything or even looking at me? Wait no scratch that what was up with you leaving early last night? I left to go get us drinks but by the time I was back you were nowhere to be found and I had to hear from Kyotani that you said you were going home early and that you looked like you were upset!” your boyfriend shouts as you as you finish your routine and after a few seconds of silence you turn to look at him.

“Are you even going to ask why I was upset or looked upset?” you huff out before pushing him out of the doorway “Because right now it just seems like you’re mad I wasn’t there to be your accessory.”

“What the hell are you even talking about- my accessory?”

“Yes, Kei! An accessory!” you shout back at him as you make your way to the kitchen.

“What does that even mean, [name]?” his tone sounds more annoyed with every word.

Setting down a glass cup, you look up at your boyfriend, tears starting to well in your eyes “It means you barely talked to me or included me in any conversation last night,” you sniff out, holding back tears “I felt like I was just there to fill space next to you and not actually there to be with you.”

Tsukishima's eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the sudden sadness. “What are you talking about? I was celebrating with the team. You know how important the win was.”

“Celebrating with the team while also ignoring me the whole time,” you reply, voice trembling. “I felt like I wasn’t even there, Kei. You spent the entire time talking to only them, and I was just… there.”

He rubs the back of his neck, clearly struggling to understand. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I just... I didn’t realize.”

“That’s the problem,” you say, voice softening. “You didn’t realize. You never realize. And it hurts.”

Tsukishima sighs, his frustration turning into anger. “You’re overreacting. It was just one night.”

“Just one night?” you repeat, feeling more hurt. “It’s not just about last night, Kei. It’s about how I feel all the time when we are with other people. It’s like I’m not there and it really hurts.”

His expression is a mix of confusion and irritation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I shouldn’t have to, Kei,” you sigh, wiping away a tear. “I want to be with someone who sees me, who notices when I’m not okay. I want to feel like I matter.”

He rolls his eyes, clearly still annoyed but this time, with himself. “You do matter. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about how you felt. Can we talk about this? Really talk?”

You take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. “Yeah, we can talk. But things need to change, Kei. I can’t keep feeling like this.”

“I understand,” he says, his voice finally coming to a soft tone. “I’ll do better. I promise. Just... don’t leave without telling me what’s wrong next time, okay?”

You nod, feeling a small sense of hope. “Okay. But you have to promise to really try.”

“I promise,” he says softly, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry for making you feel like a prop. You’re so much more than that to me.”

You hug him back, hoping that the next time, things have changed.

[darkseidex]

Hi! Can you do an Austin Butler x reader imagine where where they have a big but legal age gap, and so the reader is a virgin. Through their relationship Austin has always told her to not feel pressured to do anything, but one night after the Oscars After Party she decides that’s she’s ready to take things further. Austin is very gentle and talks her through it and everything😩

AAAH NONNIE!! Ty for the request!! I hope you don’t mind I tweaked it out a bit… because while I adore your mind and how it came up with this!! I truly hope you still like my twist of it. ALSO i forgot to say this but i suck at writing the second POV (y/n) fics, its not exactly my forte- I'm sorry :( ASKS ARE OPEN Y'ALL side note: AUSTIN BUTLER BEING A GOOD KISSER?? deux moi tell me the sky is blue and I'll be more shocked.

Oscar season was something Luella had watched from the safe confines of her room- on her macbook as Harvey would curl up on her lap and as she’d pull the beagle into her and pet him as her, Jasmine, Caleb and Vi critiqued everyones looks and gave their scoreboard of it, on a scale from 1- why did you even come?

Now by some twisted fate of some sort, here she was, in a pink crystal florets open back dress- smiling at camera’s as she was tucked into Austin's side, the man had his protective arm slung around her waist as he smiled now and again, gently rubbing her hip to ground her. Granted, she hadn’t come here without a bit of grovelling on Austin’s side. 

A few weeks before the Oscars, Luella was curled up on the couch in one of Austin’s hoodies, bonnet slightly askew, legs tucked under her like a pretzel. The TV hummed low with some chaotic skincare vlog while her tea sat forgotten on the coffee table, now lukewarm. She barely looked up when she heard the soft creak of the floorboards—Austin, barefoot, with that boyish grin and that too-soft way of looking at her like she was made of glass and gold.

“Baby,” he said, his voice low and affectionate, the way it always got when he was about to ask for something.

Luella hummed in response, eyes still on the screen. He sat on the edge of the couch near her knees, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“I want you to come to the Oscars with me,” he said, tone gentle, almost rehearsed.

“No,” she said instantly, not even glancing his way.

Austin laughed, not surprised. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I already know what you were gonna say,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “‘I want you there, it’d mean a lot, you’d look so beautiful, blah blah blah’. I’m good. Enjoy the chaos, though.”

He smiled, his eyes never leaving her. “Okay… you’d look so beautiful—obviously. But also, you’d make it bearable. You always do.”

That made her pause. She flicked her eyes toward him—just a glance—but he caught it. His hand found her thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles through the fabric of her hoodie. Always grounding. Always gentle.

“You hate that scene, I know,” he said, voice quieter now, just for her. “But you’re not just my plus-one, Lu. You’re it. They should be lucky to see you at all.”

Luella blinked slowly, heart threatening to do that dumb fluttery thing it did whenever he got too sweet on her. She tried to mask it with a scoff.

“Why you always talk to me like you’re in a Nicholas Sparks movie?”

“Because I feel like I’m in one every time I look at you,” he replied without missing a beat.

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her, lifting just enough to tell on her. He leaned in, kissed the top of her head, then brushed a second one against the tip of her nose for good measure.

“You’re annoying,” she muttered, voice muffled as he pulled her against his chest.

“But you’ll come?” he asked, hopeful.

There was a pause. Then, against his shirt, she mumbled, “...I want a dress with sparkles. Like, obnoxious sparkles.”

Austin smiled into her hair. “Done. The sparklier, the better.”

He’d seen Luella dressed up before. Hell, he’d seen her stripped down and laughing in the low light of their kitchen, face dewy with skincare and a bonnet barely holding on. He’d seen her with mascara tears on her cheeks, in sweats five sizes too big, seen her pouty, smug, sleepy, giddy. He’d seen every version of her.

But nothing prepared him for this.

She stepped out of the car like the world was lucky to exist at the same time as her. Her dress shimmered with every flash of light—pink crystal florets hugging her curves, catching on the stretch of her hips, the dip of her waist, the line of her spine left bare by the open back. Her skin glowed like she'd been kissed by stars. Neck glistening, lashes heavy, lip glossed and glossy.

She didn’t look like she belonged on the sidelines anymore. She was the moment.

Austin froze for a second—not visibly, but something in him stopped. His chest tightened. That same ache he got when she fell asleep with her head in his lap or when she danced barefoot in the kitchen at midnight, humming some old SZA track.

And then she turned to him, one brow lifted like Well?

He didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled as he reached for her waist, pulling her close with a kind of reverence. His hand settled on the small of her back, thumb sweeping lightly over her skin. She smelled like her signature—soft florals, warm and familiar. He leaned in, voice low in her ear.

“You know I’m never gonna recover from this, right?”

Luella smirked, tilting her head as the cameras started going off. “You’ll be fine.”

But she pressed a kiss to his cheek anyway, then let her hand find his under the blinding lights, fingers intertwining like they always do. And for all the noise, the red carpet, the stylists and reporters and designer chaos, Austin barely heard a thing.

She was the only one in the room, and he couldn't take his eyes off her; he didn’t want to. Perhaps that’s what softened the sting of his loss—the way Luella’s devotion didn’t falter, not even for a second. The way she brought their joined hands to her lips, pressing a long kiss to his knuckles before whispering I love you into his ear just as the cameras shifted away. How could he feel like a loser when, with one glance to his left, he saw everything he’d ever truly wanted?

Now, hours later, she stood between his legs at the afterparty, changed into something softer, easier. Her heels were off, curls freed from their style, and her laugh was louder without the pressure of press. She looked at him like he was hers. And all he could think was: I’m the luckiest man in this room.

Intimacy had never been missing between them. Luella loved with her hands, her time, the way she’d curl into his chest at night and kiss the spot behind his ear when she thought he was asleep. She didn’t always say the words out loud—it was easier for her to show them than speak them. But when she did say them, like she had earlier, it hit him like scripture.

They’d been together for almost a year now. From the moment she’d agreed to be his—half-smiling across a tiny coffee shop table—it’d been the best year of his life.

They hadn’t had sex yet. Luella always blamed herself for that, though Austin gently reminded her not to phrase it like that. Still, he knew where it came from.

Before him, she’d been with a guy back in university. One of those on-again, off-again situations that left more bruises than memories. She’d finally undressed for him once—laid back, exposed, and hopeful—and he’d barely looked at her. Just slipped on a condom, lubed himself up, and thrust into her with all the consideration of a crossed-off to-do list. No warmth. No build-up. Just friction.

It lasted ten minutes. She remembered staring at the ceiling, counting dents and speckles in the plaster while he grunted above her, then asked casually, “Did you cum?” as he pulled out.

She’d gingerly nodded abd left the room.

Luella’s hand was tangled in the soft mess of Austin’s once perfectly styled hair, her nails grazing his scalp in slow, soothing strokes. He’d groaned low the first time she did it, that little sound blooming in her chest like validation. Now, nestled in a shadowed corner of the afterparty, her lips moved along the sharp line of his jaw, brushing kisses there like secrets, before drifting down to the warm skin of his neck.

She didn’t know how to say it. Not with words. That she needed him tonight—needed the kind of closeness that went deeper than anything they’d shared before. That she wanted to melt into him, to remind him without speaking that even in loss, he wasn’t empty.

To anyone watching from afar, he looked fine. Effortlessly composed, drink in hand, smile still reaching his eyes. But she knew better. She always did. The faint tension in his jaw, the way he exhaled a beat too slow—it told her everything she needed to know.

So here she was, draped over him in a dress she’d nearly fought her stylist over, practically curled into his lap as the room buzzed with industry noise. One hand in his hair, the other tracing idle circles along the collar of his shirt. Her thigh pressed between his knees, close enough that she could feel the shift of his breath against her temple when she leaned in to kiss just beneath his ear.

He laughed—quiet, breathless, the sound laced with heat and disbelief. “You’re really trying to kill me, huh?” he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear it.

She didn’t answer. Just nipped gently at his earlobe, her breath a whisper against his skin.

“I want you,” was what she didn’t say out loud. I want you tonight. I want you slow. I want you safe.

Instead, she kissed him again—longer this time, deeper—and hoped he heard it anyway

Austin’s hands, which had been resting loosely on her hips, tightened just slightly—enough for her to notice. Then, slowly, deliberately, he pulled back.

Not far. Just enough to look at her. His fingers slid from her waist to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing along her cheekbones like she was something precious—something he didn’t want to break by rushing.

“Lu,” he said, voice low, still laced with that breathless heat she’d stirred in him, “Baby, look at me.”

She blinked, lips parted, cheeks warm. She didn’t want to look at him—because if she did, she’d probably cry or say too much or freeze. But she did it anyway, because when Austin said look at me it never felt like a demand. It felt like safety.

His eyes searched hers, not for permission, but for truth. “I’ll give you anything, you know that. But not if you’re trying to make the hurt quiet.”

That was the thing about him—he never said are you sure? like she was fragile. He just asked if her heart was in it. If she was really here.

Luella’s throat felt tight. “I’m not trying to fix anything,” she whispered. “I just… I want to feel something good. With you.”

Austin exhaled like that undid him. His forehead tipped forward to rest against hers.

“You already do,” he murmured, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “You feel like the best thing I’ve ever touched.”

Her heart skipped a beat before she kissed him—once, twice, then a third time. By the fourth, she slid her tongue into his mouth, tasting the warmth of rum and frustration. She needed him to feel it. All of it. The love that burned her from the inside out, the kind that left her breathless and aching like a heart attack with no cure.

How could she show him? That he had cracked her open, rearranged her world to make space for a him-shaped presence she couldn’t imagine living without?

She was only twenty-three. A decade stretched between them, but it never felt like a divide. Never awkward, never too wide to reach across. He never made her feel small or inexperienced. Instead, he let her be—let her go out, drink too much, dance until sunrise. And then he’d show up in the early morning, hoodie on, Gatorade and pretzels in hand, like he had all the time in the world just to love her exactly where she was.

Luella’s breath hitched as he kissed her back—slow, sure, like he had all the time in the world, even as her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt like she was afraid he’d disappear. Her body moved closer, practically moulded to his now, desperate to collapse the inches between wanting and having.

“Baby,” she whispered, barely audible between kisses. It came out ragged, almost broken.

He stilled, forehead still pressed to hers. “Yeah?”

She closed her eyes. Her fingers slid down from his chest to his stomach, trembling just slightly, but there was intent in her touch now. She wasn’t sure what she was doing—wasn’t sure she could be sure—but she knew what she felt. Knew that her body wanted to speak for her when her voice shook too hard to try.

“I want…” she started, but the words caught in her throat.

He didn’t rush her. His hands stayed where they were—firm on her hips, unmoving. Anchoring.

“You don’t have to,” he said gently, like the weight of her didn’t scare him. “Not because you think I need it. Not to prove anything. I already know.”

Tears threatened to sting her eyes, but she didn’t blink them away. Her voice was soft, barely more than a breath. “I know. But I need you. Like—tonight. I want it to be you.”

His expression softened even further, impossibly tender. And still, he waited.

“Lu,” he said, tucking a curl behind her ear. “If we do this, we do it slow. We do it safe. We do it your way.”

A small laugh broke out of her—shaky, teary. “You always talk to me like you’re in a Nicholas Sparks movie.”

Austin grinned, brushing a thumb along her cheekbone. “Because I feel like I’m in one every time you look at me.”

She kissed him again, this time slower. Less urgency. More trust.

And when he stood up, fingers gently intertwining with hers, she didn’t hesitate. She followed him without looking back, heart pounding, throat tight, but her feet steady. Because no matter what came next, she knew one thing for certain:

She’d never been more sure of anything in her life.

The ride home felt heavier than silence, thick with everything left unsaid but deeply understood. Luella sat with her hand in Austin’s, thumb tracing absentminded circles over his skin. Her other hand rested on her thigh, nails tapping against her dress in a rhythm only she knew. She didn’t speak—not because she was unsure, but because her mind was loud and full and if she said one word, it might all spill out too fast.

Austin glanced at her once. Then again. The streetlights slid across her face like slow-moving spotlight beams, catching the softness of her lashes, the gentle pinch between her brows. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

When they got to the house, she didn’t wait for him to open the door. Just stepped out, bare heels clicking gently against the pavement, purse tucked under her arm. ( something that would’ve got her an earful but he let her off the hook, this time)  He followed, quiet, patient, keeping pace behind her like he always did.

Inside, she took her shoes off with a relieved sigh and stood in the doorway for a second, like she was catching her breath. Like maybe the nerves were starting to creep in.

Austin came up behind her slowly, pressing a hand to the small of her back. “You okay?”

She nodded, eyes still forward. “Yeah.”

Then she turned, looked up at him—really looked—and something in the air shifted. Her fingers rose to the tiny clasp at the nape of her neck, undoing it slowly. She didn’t peel the dress off all the way, just loosened it enough to make her point clear.

“I want to take a shower,” she said softly. “Will you come with me?”

Austin didn’t answer with words. He just kissed her—slow and full, one hand cupping her cheek, the other finding her waist. And when they pulled apart, nothing else needed to be said.

They moved through the house like muscle memory, steps in sync. The lights were low, painting everything in soft gold, their shadows trailing behind them like the past versions of themselves that had never quite reached this point—until now.

By the time they reached the bathroom, the steam had already begun to bloom, curling around the mirror, warming the air. Austin turned the water on, then turned to look at her one more time—just to be sure.

She nodded. Just nodded.

They’d done this before, plenty of times. Showers full of shared laughter, slick skin, and teasing fingers. She’d made him squirm more than once, giggling as he tried to keep his cool while she touched him like it was nothing. A quick rinse would turn into thirty minutes and a cold towel because he'd had to finish himself once she slipped out the door with a smirk.

But this wasn’t that.

When his hands slid the dress from her shoulders and her fingers tugged his shirt over his head, it wasn’t about performance or sex. It was about her. About worship. About letting her be adored without demand.

And if that meant standing in the shower with a damn hard-on, breathing through it while steam clung to her skin and she trusted him enough to be bare, inside and out?

He’d do it. A thousand times over.

The heat hit her first—the moment she stepped in, steam swirled around her, damp curls clinging to her neck, lashes beading with water. She stood under the spray for a second, letting it rush over her, head tilted back, arms loose at her sides like she was surrendering to something bigger than the water.

Austin stepped in behind her, quiet as ever, closing the glass door with a soft click. For a second, he didn’t touch her. He just looked at the droplets racing down her back, at the way the curves of her body shimmered beneath the low light, at the slight tremble in her shoulders; she probably thought he wouldn’t notice.

And then he reached for her.

His hands were warm and certain as they smoothed over her waist, slow and steady, thumbs brushing her hips like she was breakable. He pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades, another at the base of her neck, and stayed there for a moment, forehead resting gently against her skin.

Luella let out a soft breath and leaned back into him, her head falling against his collarbone, body melting into his like she didn’t care where she ended and he began. His arms wrapped around her, holding her there, water cascading down both their bodies.

“I got you,” he murmured into her hair. “Always.”

Her hand reached back to touch his thigh, fingers tracing down until they found his calf, anchoring herself in him. It wasn’t frantic. There was no urgency. Just this—them—wrapped in heat and steam and something that felt dangerously close to forever.

He grabbed the body wash, poured it into her net sponge, and began to lather her skin. Starting at her shoulders, he worked in slow, reverent circles, down her arms, across her back. He didn’t rush. He didn’t grope. He loved. Every touch was a quiet vow. Every sweep of his hands said, You are safe with me.

Luella turned to face him, droplets clinging to her lashes, lips parted as if she had something to say—but instead, she just stepped closer, chest to chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him. Slow, deep, tongue flicking just enough to make him groan against her mouth.

His hands found her waist again. His heart was thundering.

“Are you still sure?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

She nodded, pressing her forehead to his. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Luella’s skin was slick beneath his hands, warm and soft and glowing under the golden light seeping through the bathroom. The steam blurred everything around them, but her—her, she was clear. She was real. Her eyes, half-lidded and heavy with want. Her lips, kiss-bitten. Her body, trembling just a little, but not from fear.

From feeling.

She moved against him deliberately now—slow glides of skin on skin, her hips brushing his, her breasts pressed to his chest, her hands tangled in the back of his hair again. He could feel her breath hitch each time their bodies aligned just right, every subtle rock of her hips making his head spin.

Austin’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t rush. He let her take the lead.

She leaned up, kissing along his neck—tongue, teeth, breath—until he was gripping her waist a little tighter just to steady himself. She could undo him so easily, and she knew it. But this wasn’t about control. It was about permission. About choosing each other.

Her hands slid down his back, then back up, tracing every line, every muscle, every freckle and scar she’d come to know by heart. When her lips found the edge of his jaw again, she whispered something into his skin—not loud enough for him to hear, but the feel of it made him shiver.

“I love you,” she said again, this time a little clearer. She said it like a confession, like a prayer.

Austin pulled back just enough to see her face, to really see her. Her eyes were glassy, full of unspoken things—of past hurt, of trust being rebuilt, of longing so deep it scared them both a little.

His hand came up to cradle her cheek. “You don’t have to prove anything, Lu.”

“I’m not trying to,” she breathed. “I just... I want this. I want you. And I want to give you all of me.”

Her voice cracked on the last part, and he kissed her before she could take it back—soft and reverent, but with the kind of heat that promised he heard her. That he understood.

When he lifted her gently by the waist, pressing her back against the cool tile, her legs wrapped around him like instinct. They stayed like that for a moment—foreheads touching, hearts thudding against each other’s ribs, water still streaming around them like a hush over the world.

Still clothed in tension, still holding onto control.

But not for long.

They were pressed so close now, water slipping between their bodies, heat rising in waves—but before Luella could get lost in it, the words started tumbling out.

“I, um…” she began, and Austin instantly stilled, looking down at her with soft, steady eyes.

She swallowed. “I just—before we do this… my first time wasn’t… it wasn’t great.” Her voice cracked, barely audible over the hum of water. “It wasn’t bad like trauma bad, but it was just… I don’t know. Cold. Boring. Forgettable.”

Austin’s hands stayed gentle on her waist, thumbs rubbing slow, grounding circles as she kept going.

“I didn’t even like the guy that much,” she said with a quiet laugh, embarrassed. “I just felt like I was supposed to be ready. So I did it. I let him. He didn’t even look at me—like, really look. Just got a condom, got it over with, didn’t even ask me if I liked it. And when it was done, he asked if I came like it was a formality.”

She paused, blinking quickly.

“I stared at the ceiling the whole time,” she whispered. “And I kept thinking… this can’t be what it’s supposed to feel like. This can’t be it.”

Austin’s jaw tightened, not from anger but from the ache of wanting to reach back in time and shield her from that version of herself. His voice, when it came, was low and certain.

“Then it wasn’t,” he said. “That wasn’t your first time.”

She looked up at him, lips parted, unsure.

“That doesn’t count,” he continued, brushing a hand over her soaked curls, tucking them behind her ear. “Let’s start over. Right now. If you want this… we’ll say this is your first time.”

He leaned in, kissed her temple. “Here. With me.”

By the time they stepped out of the shower, the air was thick with heat and something heavier—something sacred.

Austin wrapped a towel around Luella first, careful and slow, like she was fragile silk. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder before drying himself, never once taking his eyes off her. She stood there quiet, skin flushed from more than just the heat, her hands clutching the towel to her chest like it was armor, even though she didn’t feel the need to hide from him.

He reached for her hand, their fingers weaving together with ease.

In the bedroom, the lights were dim—just a soft bedside lamp casting everything in amber. The sheets had been turned down earlier, and the space smelled faintly of her perfume and something warmer—something that felt like them.

Luella sat at the edge of the bed first, towel still wrapped around her, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that betrayed her nerves. Austin didn’t crowd her. He knelt in front of her instead, resting his hands on her thighs.

“Last chance,” he murmured. “You can tell me no, and I’ll just hold you all night. Happily.”

She looked down at him—this beautiful man, kneeling for her like she was holy.

“I want this,” she whispered. “I want you.”

He smiled, eyes shining like he couldn’t believe she was real. Then, slowly, reverently, he kissed her knee. Then her thigh. Then up—so slowly she felt every single breath, every pause. When he stood, she rose with him, letting the towel fall from her shoulders.

She didn't flinch. She didn’t cover herself.

He looked at her like she was a gift.

They climbed into bed together without a word. No urgency. Just hands on skin, the kind of touch that felt like a lifetime of yeses. He laid her down like a prayer, like a promise. He kissed her collarbone, her shoulder, her chest—each one lingering like a vow.

And when he finally settled above her, eyes locked with hers, he whispered:

“This is your first time. Right now. With me.”

He pressed his lips to hers, slow and deliberate, his tongue gently meeting hers in a kiss that felt more like a conversation than anything rushed or greedy. Their mouths moved together in a rhythm that was all soft surrender—wet, warm, reverent.

His hands roamed her body with quiet hunger, fingers raking up her sides, across her hips, down the arch of her back. Wherever he touched, goosebumps followed, her body twitching in the softest ways under his hold—each reaction fueling his devotion.

Luella’s hands slid down his torso, exploring the planes of his chest, his ribs, his abdomen. Her nails grazed over his stomach, lightly scratching, just enough to make him groan into her mouth. His skin flexed beneath her touch, heat rippling through him like a tide he couldn’t fight—and didn’t want to.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses, voice raw, husky. “You don’t even know.”

She blinked up at him, pupils blown wide, lips parted like she wanted to say something, but all that came out was a breathy whimper as his hands found her thighs and parted them gently.

Not possessive. Not hurried.

Just home.

Austin kissed the inside of her thighs like they were sacred—slow, wet presses of his mouth right where the soft met the sensitive, his breath hot against her skin. Luella was already trembling, her chest rising and falling fast, lips parted in anticipation, in disbelief that it was finally happening—and like this.

When his mouth finally met her, tongue flat and slow, she gasped so sharply she almost sat up.

He moaned against her, the sound low and guttural. Fuck, she tasted like honey and sin. Like everything he’d ever craved. He didn’t dive in greedily, no—he studied her. He licked her with intention, easing into her folds with long, slow strokes, letting his tongue swirl around her clit in lazy circles just to see how she responded.

“Just like that,” he murmured against her, voice almost drunk with need. “Let me take care of you, baby. You don’t gotta do a thing.”

Her back arched, one hand flying into his hair, fingers curling tight.

“That feel good?” he asked, dragging his tongue up again, eyes fluttering shut as he savored her. “Yeah? Been thinking about this… every time you walked around the apartment in those little shorts. Every time you kissed me and ran away.”

She whimpered, too breathless to respond. Her thighs twitched, closing in on his head, but he held them open, palms firm and reverent.

“Stay with me,” he said softly, kissing her clit once, twice. “I got you.”

And then—he brought his hand up.

Two fingers at first, slick with her arousal, circling her entrance slowly, gently. He didn’t push in yet. He waited, his mouth still worshipping her with slow, wet licks while his fingers teased her hole, watching the way her body reacted to even that.

“You're so fucking tight,” he whispered, his voice shaking with restraint. “Gotta open you up, baby. Gonna make it feel good.”

He pressed in—one finger at first. She tensed, breath catching, and he immediately kissed her thigh, his voice soft and low.

“Breathe, Lu,” he said, kissing the inside of her knee. “Just breathe for me. You're doin’ so good.”

When she relaxed, he added the second finger, curling just right as his mouth returned to her clit—licking, sucking, moaning against her like her body was his only religion.

She let out a strangled sound, eyes fluttering, hips bucking.

“Oh—my God—Austin.”

“There you go,” he breathed, tongue moving faster now, fingers scissoring gently as her walls started fluttering around them. “You’re so close, aren’t you? I can feel you.”

She nodded, choked on a moan, and that was all he needed.

“Let go for me, baby,” he said, voice thick, hungry. “Don’t hold it. Come on. Let me feel you. I need it.”

She shattered.

Her thighs clamped around his head, hips rocking, cries spilling from her mouth as her first real orgasm tore through her. He didn’t stop. He worked her through it—licking and pumping as her body jerked and her hands fisted in the sheets, whispering, that’s it, that’s my girl, I got you, I got you.

When she finally collapsed back against the pillows, chest heaving, skin glowing, eyes glassy and stunned—he kissed his way up her body, slow and loving, until his mouth met hers again.

She could taste herself on his lips. Could feel how hard he was pressed against her thigh.

“You okay?” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

She laughed—soft, breathless, amazed. “No,” she said. “I think you broke me.”

He smiled, brushing her cheek with his knuckles. “Good. Now I’m gonna put you back together.”

Luella was still breathless, body slack and buzzing, but the moment Austin leaned in to kiss her—deep and slow, his hand cradling the side of her face—something stirred in her chest. Need. Gratitude. That ever-burning desire to show him what he meant to her, the way he’d just shown her.

So she pushed herself up, blinking through the afterglow, and whispered against his lips, “Can I take care of you now?”

Austin froze, his hand on her cheek going still. “Baby…”

“I want to,” she said, eyes locked on his. “I want to taste you.”

He swallowed hard, jaw flexing as he pulled back slightly to look at her—like he needed to see how sure she was. She held his gaze, steady and soft. And that’s all it took.

“Okay,” he murmured, voice rough now, laced with something darker, deeper. “Okay, come here.”

She pushed him back gently, watched as he settled against the pillows, then slid down the bed, trailing kisses down his chest, stomach, the V of muscle leading lower. Her fingers hooked in the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down with slow intention.

And then she saw it.

Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting with a tiny breath of shock.

“Oh my God,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

Austin laughed, low and strained, head tipping back against the pillow. “Yeah,” he breathed, “I was gonna warn you.”

Her fingers wrapped around the base gently, testing the weight of him, the sheer length and thickness. “You were just gonna let me find out?”

“I mean… you were already committed,” he said, barely holding back a groan when her thumb grazed the tip. “Figured I’d let you be brave.”

She gave him a look, then leaned down, kissing the head with soft lips, tongue flicking gently across the slit. He hissed through his teeth, muscles twitching.

“Take your time,” he said, voice deeper now, eyes heavy-lidded but watching her every move. “Just do what feels good. You don’t have to take all of it.”

Luella nodded, then slowly wrapped her lips around the tip, sucking gently while her hand stroked the base. His hips twitched—twitched—and she smiled around him.

“Fuck, Lu—” Austin groaned, one hand gripping the sheets beside him, the other threading through her curls but not pushing, just resting, grounding himself. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

She took a little more, relaxed her throat, tongue swirling, eyes fluttering when he moaned again. It was messy. She couldn’t take all of him, not yet. But she worked him with care, spit trailing down her fingers as she kept stroking what her mouth couldn’t hold.

“You feel so fucking good,” he muttered, hips trying not to buck. “You’re so pretty like this. Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

She pulled off for a moment, eyes wet, lips shiny, breath hot. “Tell me,” she whispered, stroking him slowly. “Tell me what I’m doing to you.”

“You’re killing me,” he gasped, eyes closing for a second. “You’ve got me shaking, baby. I’m trying so hard not to come right now.”

Luella smiled like sin and slid her mouth back down.

And that was when his head fell back with a groan so raw it vibrated through her spine.

She was doing her best—more than her best.

Austin lay there, one arm thrown behind his head, the other buried in her curls, watching with parted lips and a look of awe painted all over his face. Luella was taking him as deep as she could, hand twisting around the base where her mouth couldn’t reach, her tongue working in slow, wet circles that had him breathing like he’d just run miles.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, thighs tensing under her. “That mouth… it’s not fair.”

He kept his hips still, fighting every instinct, letting her lead. But each time she pulled off to kiss the tip, suckle softly, then go back down—spit slicking him, her pretty lips swollen, breath coming in shallow gasps—it chipped away at his control.

Then she looked up at him.

Eyes glassy. Drool shining on her chin. Like she’d live between his thighs if he let her.

And he couldn’t take it.

“Lu,” he warned, voice low and ragged. “Baby… slow down. I’m not gonna last.”

But she didn’t stop. She just moaned around him, sucking harder, letting her hand work faster.

That did it.

He hissed, hand tightening in her curls—not pulling, just gripping, grounding, trying to stay tethered. “Shit—Luella. Stop. Baby, stop.”

She popped off of him with a gasp, blinking up like she wasn’t sure what she did wrong—but his eyes were dark now, locked on hers, chest rising fast.

“I need to be inside you,” he said, voice like gravel and silk all at once. “I need to feel you—all of you.”

Luella’s breath hitched. Her thighs instinctively pressed together, heat blooming low and deep. She nodded, lips still wet, cheeks flushed, and that was all he needed.

Austin sat up slowly, gently guiding her back onto the bed, kissing her with everything she made him feel—hunger, worship, love. His hands caressed her thighs, spreading them open again with reverence, eyes never leaving hers.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispered, thumb brushing her lip, then trailing down between her legs. “But now it’s my turn.”

Austin hovered above her, his hand still stroking gently between her thighs, keeping her open and relaxed as he kissed her slow. Deep. The kind of kiss that said you’re mine without ever needing the words.

Her breath was shaky now, the earlier confidence melting into nerves again. He felt it. Saw the little flicker of hesitation in her eyes. So he paused, kissing her forehead, then her cheek, letting his hand slide up to cradle her face.

“Hey,” he whispered. “You still with me?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

But it was quiet. Shaky.

He smiled, leaned in closer. “We’re not rushing. I got you, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kissed her again—long and grounding—and then trailed his hand down to her thigh, gently lifting it.

“Let me figure out what feels good for you,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. “We’ll try a few positions until your body tells me it’s right. No pressure. We stop the second you want to. Deal?”

“Deal,” she whispered, already breathless from his voice alone.

He started with her on her back, gently lifting her hips with a pillow beneath them. He eased between her legs, guiding himself to her entrance, sliding the tip through her folds slowly—so slowly—but the second he pressed forward, her breath caught and her body tensed.

He froze.

“Too much?” he asked instantly, his hand stroking her side, lips brushing her temple.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Just a little. I think the angle’s too deep.”

“Okay,” he said softly, kissing her jaw. “Let’s try something else.”

He gently pulled back and helped her up, repositioning her with her back against his chest, both of them seated now, her legs draped over his thighs. He kissed her shoulder, held her close, and tried again—slow, careful pressure, but she still winced.

“I feel… exposed like this,” she said, voice small.

Austin immediately pressed his forehead to her shoulder and whispered, “Okay. Scratch that. You’re in charge, baby. Always.”

Finally, he laid her down again and adjusted them until they were chest to chest, his knees framing her hips, her legs wrapped around his waist. Their foreheads touched. He held her hands in his.

“Like this?” he asked, voice low and patient. “This feel better? Not too deep, just enough to be close.”

She nodded. “Yeah. This... this feels safe.”

“Good,” he whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. “I want you to look at me the whole time, okay? I want you to see how much I love you.”

Then, with slow, tender care, he began to ease inside her—inch by inch, stopping every time her breath shifted, kissing her through the stretch. His eyes never left hers.

And when he was fully seated, both of them breathless and trembling, he whispered:

“You’re doing so good for me, Luella. You’re perfect. You feel like heaven.”

Austin had her laid out beneath him, legs wrapped loosely around his waist, her hands trembling where they gripped his arms. He could feel her nerves vibrating just beneath her skin, even as her eyes begged him to keep going.

His cock was heavy in his hand, flushed and dripping, and as he lined up with her entrance, he kissed her softly—slow, grounding, reverent.

“I got you,” he murmured against her lips. “You just breathe, okay? We’re gonna take it one inch at a time.”

Luella nodded, eyes wide, breath shaky.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he whispered, sliding the head of his cock through her soaked folds, coating himself in her arousal. “Gotta go slow. Let your body open for me.”

He pushed forward—just the tip.

She gasped, her hips twitching slightly, walls clenching hard around him. Austin stilled immediately, one hand flying to her cheek, the other gripping her thigh gently.

“Hey, hey, don’t tense,” he soothed, brushing his thumb over her skin. “You’re doing so good, Lu. I know I’m big, but we’ll go slow. You’re gonna take all of me—just not all at once.”

He leaned down, forehead to hers. His voice dropped into something even softer, something made of silk and devotion.

“Just like that,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You feel that? That’s me stretching you. That’s your body learning me.”

He rocked his hips again—barely deeper—and she let out a shaky moan, gripping onto his forearms like her life depended on it.

“You okay?” he asked, reading her every twitch, every breath.

“Y-Yeah,” she panted. “It’s… big.”

“I know,” he groaned, sweat beading at his brow from how tight she was. “I feel it too, baby. You’re gripping me so good.”

He kissed her again—softly, slowly—then rolled his hips forward another inch, swallowing her whimper with his mouth.

“That’s it,” he whispered against her lips. “You’re taking me so well. Your pussy’s made for me. Say it, baby. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she breathed, tears in her eyes from the stretch, the closeness, the overwhelming fullness. “I’m yours, Austin.”

He groaned low in his throat, pressing in just a little more, until she took half of him, her legs wrapped tighter around his waist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I’ll stay right here. You tell me when you’re ready for more.”

And he did. He stayed. Kissing her through every inch, whispering filth and softness, coaching her body to relax, praising her like she was the only girl on Earth.

“You’re gonna take all of me, baby,” he promised, voice thick with emotion and restraint. “And when you do, I swear—I’ll make it feel so fucking good you’ll forget anyone ever touched you before.”

Luella's nails dug into Austin’s shoulders, her breath coming in short, unsteady gasps as he rocked his hips forward—slow and steady, thick length pressing into her inch by inch like he had all the time in the world.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured, voice low and ragged, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re doing so good for me. That’s it… let me in.”

Her jaw dropped on a gasp as her body clamped down around him, her thighs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Oh my God, Austin, you’re—fuck—so big, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he groaned, kissing her lips, then her cheek, then her jaw. “You’re takin’ me so well, Lu. You feel perfect. Like you were made for this. Made for me.”

She whimpered, trying to breathe through the stretch. His cock dragged along every wall inside her, thick and unrelenting, her body twitching and fluttering with the effort of taking him.

“I feel so full,” she whispered, eyes glossy. “Like you’re in my stomach.”

“You are,” he breathed, voice thick with restraint as he looked down—and there it was: the faint swell under her belly where the head of his cock pressed from the inside.

“Right there,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over the bulge. “That’s me. You took every inch of me, baby. So. Fucking. Good.”

Her eyes rolled back, and she choked on a moan that turned into a sob.

“Too much?” he asked instantly, stilling.

She shook her head frantically. “No. It’s so good, I—don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Austin’s entire soul cracked open at her voice—at how wrecked she sounded. At how desperately she wanted to take it, to take him.

He kissed her again, deeper now, as he started to move—long, slow strokes that made the bed creak beneath them.

“You feel like heaven,” he growled, thrusting into her just deep enough to make her legs lock tight around his waist. “God, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. You like that? You like bein’ full of me?”

“Yes,” she gasped, nails clawing at his back. “Yes, Austin—please, don’t stop talking. Please.”

He lost it—he absolutely lost it.

“Good girl,” he whispered, dragging his cock out halfway before slamming it back in, the bulge in her belly pressing up again. “My perfect girl. You’re doin’ so good for me, takin’ every inch of this cock like it’s yours. ‘Cause it is. It’s yours, Lu.”

She was falling apart now, tears slipping from her lashes, her body spasming beneath him. But every whimper made his praise sharper, more intense.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, kissing her hard. “You hear me? You’re fucking perfect. Tightest pussy I’ve ever felt. Best girl I’ve ever had. My girl.”

Luella sobbed into his mouth, her whole body trembling now as he reached between them, fingers rubbing fast, perfect circles on her clit.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, eyes locked on hers. “Look at me while you do it. I wanna see your face when you fall apart. I wanna feel you lose it.”

She came with a scream—loud and unfiltered—her body jerking beneath him, pussy clenching violently around his cock as her orgasm ripped through her like fire.

Austin lost it seconds later, slamming deep one final time, his moan loud and low as he spilled into her, filling her until the bulge in her belly throbbed with warmth.

Even then, he didn’t stop kissing her. Didn’t stop whispering.

“You’re mine. You’re everything, Lu. You were made for this. For me.”

And in that moment, neither of them knew where her body ended and his began.

They’d barely come down.

Luella was still trembling, chest flushed, slick between her thighs and lips kiss-swollen from how much she’d taken. Her body was humming—nerves fried and thighs aching, but beneath the exhaustion was want. That delicious, greedy ache that said more.

Austin had just finished pressing soft kisses down her stomach, murmuring “you did so good” like a mantra, when she gently pushed at his chest.

He blinked, brows furrowing. “What’s up, baby?”

She slid on top of him.

Austin went still. “Lu…”

“I wanna try it,” she said softly, voice hoarse. “I wanna ride you.”

He let out a soft groan, hands instinctively landing on her thighs as she straddled him, her slick core brushing up against his half-hard cock—which, at the slightest touch from her, started to throb back to life.

“You sure?” he asked, voice strained already. “You just took me for the first time and you wanna ride it now? Baby, I’m not gonna last.”

Luella smiled, that sweet-bratty mix that made his stomach clench. “I don’t need you to last.”

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, dragging his hands up her waist. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He let her guide him, one hand wrapped around his shaft as she lined him up again. She was so wet, still stretched, but the second the head pressed to her entrance, she faltered.

Her thighs shook.

Austin sat up instantly, strong arms circling her waist, forehead pressed to her collarbone.

“Take it slow,” he whispered, guiding her hips with his hands. “You don’t have to sit all the way. Just feel it.”

She nodded, biting her lip, and slowly began to sink down.

The stretch hit different this way—wider, deeper. Her breath hitched, nails digging into his shoulders, and Austin felt it—felt her walls flutter around him like she was trying to pull him in and push him out at the same time.

“Fuck, fuck—Austin—”

“I got you,” he groaned, kissing up her neck. “You feel so good up there, baby. So fucking tight. Look at you, tryna ride this dick after I blew your back out.”

She whimpered, inching lower, thighs trembling against his.

“You want me that bad, huh?” he whispered, eyes locked on hers. “You that cockdrunk already?”

She moaned in response, finally taking more of him, her hips grinding down just enough to make both of them shake.

Austin’s head dropped back. “Goddamn. Look at you—my girl on top, tryna take this big fuckin’ cock like a champ.”

His hands grabbed her ass, helping her move, slow little rolls that made her eyes flutter shut.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby,” he breathed, kissing the sweat from her chest. “Even after everything—I’m still buried in this pussy. You’re a fuckin’ dream.”

She started bouncing—slow, unsteady, but committed.

And that’s when he lost it.

His grip tightened. His hips bucked up into her. Their moans tangled in the air, and the sound of her soaked cunt meeting his thighs was obscene.

“Austin—oh my God—” she gasped, eyes rolling back.

“I know, baby,” he groaned, voice breaking. “I know. You’re so fucking good to me. You wanna come on it again, huh? Wanna make a mess on this dick?”

She nodded frantically, breath hitching, body trembling.

“Then ride it,” he growled. “Be a good girl and take it.”

And she did. She rode him through tears and moans and shaking legs, until her thighs gave out and he had to grab her waist and fuck up into her, deep and messy and so much.

She came again, falling into his chest with a broken cry—and he followed, groaning into her neck, filling her a second time, so deep she could feel the warmth pulse inside her.

They didn’t speak right away. Just breathed. Held each other. Let their bodies buzz.

And then she whispered, “Next time… I wanna go faster.”

Austin laughed into her skin. “You’re insane.”

They stayed like that for a moment—Luella slumped against his chest, her skin slick with sweat and satisfaction, legs still loosely wrapped around his waist, her breath warm where it ghosted against his neck. Austin’s hands rubbed her back in slow, lazy circles, his lips brushing the crown of her head like she might drift away if he stopped touching her.

“Still with me, baby?” he whispered, voice hoarse and low.

She nodded with the tiniest, exhausted hum. “Mmhm. Barely.”

He smiled and kissed her temple.

“Okay, angel. Gonna pull out now, alright? Real slow.”

She whined at that—soft and broken, her walls still fluttering around him. But she nodded again.

Austin kissed her once more and gently gripped her hips, steadying her.

The moment he began to slide out, her body trembled—tiny aftershocks twitching through her thighs as he drew back, inch by inch. His cock was still thick and sensitive, glistening as it finally slipped free, her slick mixed with his cum dripping out of her in slow, sticky strings.

“Fuck,” he breathed, barely able to keep it together. “You’re so full, baby.”

Luella whimpered, hiding her face in his neck. “M’sore already…”

“I know,” he whispered, stroking her back. “You were perfect. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

He shifted carefully, cradling her against his chest as he stood. She clung to him, boneless and sleepy, arms looped around his neck while he carried her through the soft dark of their bedroom, straight into the warm bathroom.

He’d already turned the lights low—just enough to see, golden and flickering like candlelight.

He set her down on the edge of the tub and turned on the water, checking the temperature with practiced care before pouring in a few drops of lavender oil. Steam rose slowly. The scent bloomed in the air, calming, floral, safe.

Once the tub was full enough, he helped her step in. She eased down into the water with a soft gasp, muscles relaxing instantly.

But she didn’t even have to ask.

Austin slid in right behind her, arms coming around her waist as she settled against his chest.

“Better?” he murmured, his voice softer than ever.

Luella nodded, sighing as his hands began to stroke over her hips, her thighs, her belly with featherlight touch.

He kissed her shoulder. “You were so good for me, Lu. So fucking brave.”

She melted into him.

“I love you,” she mumbled, voice sleepy and small.

“I love you more,” he whispered, nuzzling into her curls. “And I’m gonna take care of you. Always.”

They stayed there for what felt like hours—bodies bare, hearts soft, the water wrapping around them like a second skin.

And when he washed between her legs, delicate and tender, whispering little apologies every time she flinched from soreness?

She realized no orgasm in the world could compare to how this man made her feel when he simply loved her right.

The water had gone lukewarm by the time Austin helped Luella out of the tub, arms steady as he wrapped her in a plush towel, pressing a kiss to her temple as she wobbled on her feet.

“Got you,” he murmured. “Lean on me.”

She did.

Back in the bedroom, the sheets were freshly changed—he’d done it earlier, anticipating this moment. The air was cool, the lighting warm, and everything smelled like vanilla and eucalyptus.

He sat her gently on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of her again, towel still around her body, the ends damp and clinging to her thighs.

“Stay right here,” he said, standing long enough to grab her lotion and the oversized tee she always stole from him. The one that hung past her knees and smelled like him even after four washes.

She watched with heavy eyes, blinking slowly like every second away from his hands felt too long.

Then he knelt again, easing the towel open just enough to rub lotion gently into her skin—starting with her thighs, then her hips, her belly, her arms. Every touch was delicate. Reverent. His thumbs kneaded the backs of her thighs, his palms smoothing over the curve of her ass, not with hunger—but care.

“You okay?” he whispered, glancing up.

She nodded, quiet. “Sore. But… good sore.”

He grinned, kissed the inside of her knee. “That’s my girl.”

Once she was fully lotioned and glowing, he helped her slip into the big t-shirt, pulling it down over her head, letting her arms slide through like she was something breakable and precious.

Then he lifted the covers and tucked her in—yes, tucked her in—before sliding into bed beside her, pulling her into his chest like she belonged there.

She did.

One of her legs slipped between his. Her cheek rested on his chest, where his heartbeat thudded slow and steady under her ear.

He kissed her forehead.

“Need anything else?” he asked softly, hand drawing lazy circles on her hip.

She mumbled something against his skin. He caught only pieces.

“Water… maybe…” “…one more kiss…”

Austin smiled and reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, helping her sip before setting it down and pulling her close again., and putting her bonnet over her hair. Then he kissed her. Just once. Soft. Final.

“I’m never letting you go,” he whispered into her hair.

Luella barely whispered back. “You better not.”

[lunamochii]

2:04

a/n; i literally wrote this out of spite so please expect grammatical erros and wrong spelling! Don't forget to comment your reactions and feedbacks! Also, pls reblog with tags!!

warnings; mature, smut without plot(or a lil bit of context), mdni

Messing with Sylus is all fun and games until he decides to put you in place and have you remember of who he really is.

"Hm, what's this? Already wet? But I barely did anything yet, kitten."

He got your body press up against the cold glass window that faces that city lights, his long and slender fingers tuck inside your mouth while his other hand is busy pumping your tight cunt

"Weren't you giggling back at the cafe by playfully running your hands around my thighs?"

"It w-was—"

You yelp when he suddenly plunge his fingers back in but this time instead of two, he inserted three fingers

"Uh-uh are you going to say your same pathetic reason again?"

He remove the his fingers that was in your mouth and squeeze your cheeks, tilting your head up so you can meet his gaze

"No! I was gwonna shay thawt— mwore- Sylus!"

He laugh seeing how you couldn't even finish your sentence when he starts to rub your clit with his thumb

"You're so cute, darling. Now, be a good girl and place both of your hands on the window."

You did as what he told and gave you a good hard spank and his name drips out from your lips

"Hmm let me hear more. C'mon...."

Aside from the sound of the running water from his bathtub, the spanking sound echoes throughout the bathroom silencing the other noises

Sylus moans out your name before plunging his cock deep inside you and your thankful that this window doesn't break easily because it is your only support on trying to balance yourself.

He put one of your legs up with you balancing on the tub as he relentlessly bully your wet cunt, his big calloused hands groping your breast and his lips leaving marks all over your shoulder

"So deep! Your cock is so deep inside me, Sy! Give it to me harder, please!"

"I knew you were a fighter."

He smirks and pulled you out from the tub. He made you face the glass window again and in one swift move he got your legs parted. The cool air brushes against your expose cunt making you instinctively close your legs but he got a firm grip

"Don't make unnesecarry movement. Wouldn't want to drop you, not that it would happen though."

He breathes in your scent and moans your name right on to your ear

"Please fuck me... I need your cock inside me, Sy. So bad, please."

"Damn, princess. When did you get so good at begging?"

He got his cock brushing against your cunt and you just want him to put it in

"Just so needy! Please Sy, won't you fuck me?"

"Don't come complaining that you can't walk."

Your nails dug deep on to his arms as he push his big cock in to your pussy, no matter how wet and stretch you are, his cock is always way too big for you. He watch how your boobs bounces and how your eyes droop with your tongue desperately licking your lips

"Face me."

When you did, he shove his tongue into your mouth and he got you moaning through the kiss. One of your hand move to grab on to his hair.

You close your eyes and just let Sylus handle you, you know that he won't let any harm come to you.

"I'm going to cum! Sylus! Fuck fuck!"

"Together!! Take my cock, take it!!"

You both scream each other's name as his cum filled your insides and your juices squirting out from you. Sylus didn't miss the chance and rapidly rub your clit making you cry out as he push one more orgasm from you before setting you down, letting your back once again touches the cold window and eats you out

"Holy shit— s'too much— Sylus!"

"One more— your scent is so addicting..."

He inserted two fingers and thrust it faster and his tongue flicking back and forth on your clit, you keep on moaning out his name and with that you began to ride his face and Sylus began to make choking noises as you push your hips down, both of his hands are now grabbing on to your leg

"Fuck fuck fuck!!"

You bit your lower lip and came undone on to his mouth, he lap your juices and made sure to drink it all. When his done, he place one last kiss on your cunt before standing up and hugging you tight

"Have you learn your lesson, kitten?"

He says softly while rubbing your ass cheeks

"Maybe.."

"Hmm~ such a naughty kitten. Guess, we'll go for more rounds until you understand."

You were about to retort when he stop you by planting a kiss to your lips

"I don't wanna hear more complains from you. Kneel down and clean the mess you made on my dick.

You look down and saw that it's still hard and standing proud. You gulp and slowly got on your knees, his hand resting on your hair grabbing a fistful of it

"Now, be a good kitten and clean my cock."

[teojira]

Ooooh just finished reading your koba drabble and its soooo good??? I would love to hear your thoughts how the other apes, Rocket, Maurice, Ceaser, and Blue eyes, think about Kobas' new human shadow... or the way they squabble 👀 I imagine its a mixed bag XD. Amazing writing as always ❤️

[How the rest of the colony apes react to you and Koba's 'friendship']

Summary: The other apes worry about your sanity.

Warnings: Platonic relationship with Koba (based off of my previous Koba request!)

A/N: First time writing for Maurice, Rocket and Blue eyes!!! I was so excited to see them included here 😭 I hope you enjoy anon!

Caesar:

He's already warned Koba multiple times to not take things too far, that just because you've decided that you want to follow him around, doesn't mean he can mistreat you.

Keeps a close eye on y'all when in vicinity, but he knows Koba better than others do.

Koba can claim he hates you as much as he does, but he hasn't done anything to truly drive you away, he could hurt you, bite into you with his canines and do damage but at most, he growls and tries to swat you away like a fly.

Koba also in the same vein will follow you around when you're off doing your own thing, especially if you decide to leave the colony on your own.

He's not slick, telling Caesar that he's off to rest.

Caesar literally sees Koba climbing trees to trail you. It's amusing just how much the bonobo is denial that he cares for you.

It's obvious to Caesar that a part of Koba enjoys the attention, and enjoys your company despite everything, so he doesn't interfere.

Maurice:

Actively tells you to leave Koba alone, he's genuinely not about the whole idea of you and Koba being together.

It gives him anxiety, he's not your father, he's not your family but he's concerned.

He'll talk to Caesar about it, trying to get him to put a stop to it but alas, Caesar says you're both adults, he can't control who you spend time with.

He agrees of course, and while yes Koba does show some semblance of...care for you, it doesn't change his mind.

Please you're stressing him out, give him a break and eat dinner with him and the children instead.

Koba is threatening to bite your fingers off for touching his berries and Maurice genuinely cannot tell if it's a valid threat or not.

Rocket:

Rocket doesn't include himself into the situation, but is another worrier deep down, he's a father, he can't help it.

I see him as the laid back chill uncle who's like 'Hey, do what you want to do but be careful.'

He'd had to step in a couple of times when he thinks Koba is genuinely out to harm you, hooting and calling for Caesar. This ends in him and Koba squaring off against one another and you frantically telling Rocket that you're fine.

By now he doesn't interfere, but he does keep an eye out, always fighting the urge to grab you and take you away from Koba.

Tries to offer you to spend more time with his previous wives, Ash or himself.

Blue eyes:

Blue eyes and you are kinda in the same boat, despite Koba's faults, Blue eyes does look up to his father's close friend.

Koba would never hurt Blue eyes, not without great repercussions, but he could hurt you, the tiny human that has no defensive measures against a huge bonobo, so forgive Blue if he's a little nervous at you pestering Koba.

The young chimp makes sure to check in with you after your random little fights with Koba, it doesn't matter how many times you tell him it's all in good fun, he will make sure you're okay.

He's worried, okay, he gets it from his father, Caesar has told him just how fragile humans are, how their feelings are easily hurt, it makes him treat you damn near like glass.

Side eyes you everytime you go to Koba's nest to mess with him.

Ash will try and make bets with how long it'll be til Koba tries and kills you as a joke, only for Blue eyes to choke on his spit and tell him off, baring his teeth and jostling his friend around.

"Do not make fun!" The young chimp signs frantically.

[sssammich]

day 2: romance

you can also read the fic on ao3

the rest of sctober prompts: crepe AU: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 day 19: hazy, day 22: art, day 24: enchanted, day 30: magic

--

Now, here's the thing. Lena is a reasonable woman. She's a woman of many, many means and has more money that even God knows what to do with. So she doesn't expect much, save, perhaps, for some respect and authenticity. 

But even that seems like asking for a lot tonight. Especially when she peers over her wine glass over at her date in front of her—a man who sounded perfect on paper (which, in retrospect, was probably where this slow demise of a date began): great job, good looks, decent upbringing—and knows there's clearly been a miscommunication of sorts.

His nervous energy, she can understand. His overcompensation, even more so. Yet that manifests in rude manners as he interrupts her, arrogance in not-so-subtly considering her position as a CEO, and his tired misogyny in his expectations of what his paying for dinner truly affords him.

So she waits for him to finish talking, as he's monopolized the last ten minutes talking about some financial tech start-up for fish or something or the other. He FINALLY glances at her, flashes what she can only assume is his most winning smile. Which is the only thing she was waiting for, frankly, before she scoots her chair back and subtly waves at a server who already seems to have her coat at the ready.

"Whoa-wait, where are you going? They’ve barely served us the apps."

She smiles down at him, though her eyes are sharp and narrowed. "Riveting as you may think it is to listen to you, I'm going home and having a very lovely evening with my vibrator. I believe I'll have a much more fulfilling time with it than with you."

His jaw drops slightly, sputtering out sorry excuses for words, his face going through a roller coaster journey of expressions—a considerable improvement from the smarmy smile he'd been presenting her since she first saw him. She can even see how his cheeks and ears redden at her comment, could have possibly considered it cute if he was even an ounce less of who he was. The look on his face is almost worth the stress of what little of this dinner has already cost her sanity and time. She turns to the server beside her just as he helps her shrug on her coat, his face the poster of professional decorum, except for the slight twitch from the corner of his lips that betrays him slightly. 

And just because she can, Lena rummages through her clutch and pulls out a few hundred dollar bills, where she throws a couple on the table and rolls one to insert in the server’s breast pocket. 

She leaves without a single glance back despite feeling all eyes on her.

When she exits out of the restaurant, her driver is already waiting for her at the front. She takes a deep breath and exhales before walking up to him and dismissing him for the night, telling him that she’ll find her way back just fine. She walks away with a final greeting and heads towards the direction of the park.

Lena reaches the edge of the park where she finds a slew of food trucks lining the curb. Most of them have some customers in line waiting except for the bright yellow one parked at the very end. Typically, Lena would hesitate approaching a food truck without customers as that is surely cause for concern. Yet the name ‘Love is Crepe’ seems to call to her, perhaps fitting of the night she’d just endured. 

She stands just to the side of the awning with a gaze towards the menu, determining if she should treat herself to both sweet and savory crepes. She decides she deserves to indulge herself. 

Yet when she walks up to the front counter, she realizes there’s a handwritten sign that notes: 

SOLD OUT 

THANKS AND SORRY :( 

-crepe mgmt

She can’t help the amused smile on her face even if she finds herself disappointed in not getting any crepes, after all. She’s just about to turn around when she jumps at the sound of someone yelping in surprise behind her. 

“Oh!” 

She turns around and stops in her tracks when she finds the most attractive woman she’s ever laid eyes on carrying three different bags of food from what appears to be the other food trucks. It takes her a second to process that she should speak, yet her eyes can’t help but glance at the blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, the sharp jaw, the perfect curved lips, and the blue of the woman’s eyes behind black rimmed glasses. Her gaze dips to the womans��� biceps, the t-shirt sleeves folded up to her shoulders, straining slightly under the weight of the bags she’s carrying. 

Lena clears her throat. “I—I thought you were open, but I see you’d sold out of everything.” 

Despite being the one to have been caught surprised, it’s the blonde woman who’s standing stock still in front of her, surprise slapped on her face. “You’re Lena Luthor.” 

This time, it’s her turn to be shocked. “Oh, um, yes.” 

The woman shakes her head and quickly drops the bags on one of the tables parked right in front of the truck. “Oh my golly, I’m so sorry, that’s—well that was very impolite of me. I’ve just–I’m a big fan. I, wait-no. I mean, I am. I totally am, but like, you’re you, I mean—hang on. Um, wait.” The woman then puts her hands on her waist, and positions her body so she’s properly facing Lena before taking a deep breath. “You want crepes?” 

Lena’s brows furrow in amused confusion even as she slowly nods. Something about the way this woman stumbles through her words and her movements has Lena endeared, and so she responds, a slow smile already forming on her lips. “Yes, but I see you’re sold out.” 

“Oh, right. I am, but I—” the woman pauses and puts a finger up, a frenetic energy about her, before rushing to the back of the truck. Lena hears rummaging and movement, until the woman pops her head out of the front window, crumpling the piece of paper notice as she slides the window to the side. “I can—I can make you one crepe. Like a malnourished crepe because it won’t have as many strawberries or Nutella, but I can make it. Do you still want it?” 

She’s poised to decline, not wanting to interrupt this woman’s night, but the expectant and almost eager way the woman is staring down at her from the window, hopeful and anticipating, has Lena nodding her head before she can even gather her wits about her. 

The woman is overjoyed, so Lena believes she’d given the right answer. Something warm buzzes inside of Lena when she witnesses the woman’s bright smile before she disappears from the window. 

Lena takes a seat right by where the woman’s food is, a small frown forming when she realizes she’s more than likely interrupted this woman’s dinner. Yet, the woman seems more than happy to work in her truck, so with hesitant resignation, Lena just waits. 

Before long, the woman comes out and personally puts her plate right in front of her with a set of plastic utensils wrapped in a napkin. “You didn’t have to do that,” she comments, even as her mouth salivates at the smell of the dish in front of her. 

“It was no trouble at all.” Then the woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, unless you wanted it to go. Oh man, I didn’t even ask. Did you—” 

But Lena just shakes her head. “Here’s fine.” 

The woman beams at her, and Lena briefly wonders how it feels for people in this woman's life to constantly be on the receiving end of such a bright and warm smile. Lena’s frown forms as she watches as the woman then takes her bag of food off the table. 

“Won’t you join me? Since I so rudely interrupted your dinner.” 

“But you’re Lena Luthor.”  

She smiles at that. “And you are?” 

The woman’s mouth opens, shock evident on her face, before it transforms into a smile. “Kara. You can call me Kara.” 

“Well, Kara. Won’t you join me?” 

There’s the smile again as Kara wordlessly nods, and sits herself directly across from Lena. She waits until Kara empties out all of the food from her takeout bags, the spread fully taking over the table they’re sitting on. Kara nudges the containers her way, prompting Lena to quirk a brow. 

“Please help yourself.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely.” 

She responds with a smile in kind and digs into her crepe, enjoying the flavors of her sweet crepe. “This is really quite delicious,” she offers, meaning every word. 

Kara shyly ducks her head even as she smiles proudly. “Thanks! It was slow going for a while, but my friend Nia mentioned that I should put myself in the videos so they could connect with me and not just the crepes. So I guess they’ve been able to see that I really care about the food I make and the videos have been going viral.”  

Lena tilts her head in observation, thinks to herself, I don’t think it’s just the crepes they’re looking at.  

Suddenly, Kara’s mouth drops and her cheeks redden. Belatedly, and much to Lena’s horror, she realizes that she’s said her thoughts out loud. This time, it’s her turn to cover her face. “Oh god, I’m sorry. That was—” 

“Thank you, Lena.” 

“You dropped the Luthor.” 

“I realized I’d said it twice already, I feel like I’ve hit my quota of full naming you for the day.” 

She laughs at that, though a sense of self-deprecation leaks out despite her best attempts.  “Thank you for not shunning me away even knowing who I am.” 

A crinkle of concern appears between Kara’s brows and Lena wonders, not for the last time that evening, how it feels to see that regularly. 

“The only Lena Luthor I know is the one who has tirelessly made the Children’s Hospital the best one in the country so my niece Esme can get the care that she needs. So, I’d say you’re the last person I’d shun away.” 

Kara’s stares at her intently, gratitude written all over her face. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” is all Lena says, not wanting to overstep by asking more questions. She and Kara are basically strangers, and she wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable. 

“Besides, who shuns away pretty ladies?” Kara says with a shrug before popping an entire potsticker in her mouth. The two of them sport identical rosy cheeks when Lena catches up to Kara’s words just as Kara seems to realize exactly what she’d said. 

“Well, thank you, Kara.” 

Kara tilts her head and smiles, making a show of swallowing the potsticker that Lena giggles at, and shifting her glasses back up on her face. “Anytime, Lena.” 

She can’t help but compare the woman in front of her to the man who’d attempted to wine and dine her earlier tonight. How their eyes shared the same shade of blue, yet Lena thinks she’d happily lose herself in staring at Kara as she listens to the other woman talk about food.

She does just that when they spend the rest of their time in companionable conversation, Kara urging her to try the dishes that litter their table. Before long, the first hour rolls into one, then two, until she glances up and finds that the other food trucks are beginning to break down for the night. 

“Oh, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time,” she says when she wraps her coat tightly around her. “You now have to stay longer to clean up.” 

But Kara waves her off just as she finishes cleaning. “No! Please! You’re the one all dressed up tonight. I hope I wasn’t keeping you from anything.” 

“God, no. If anything you were saving me.” 

Lena thinks she notices Kara standing up a bit taller. “Bad date?” 

“Terrible. Perhaps romance is simply not in the cards for me.” 

“I don’t believe that,” Kara says, with a shake of her head. “You’re too amazing to not find someone who’ll appreciate you for who you are, Lena Luthor.” 

“Careful, you’ve exceeded your full naming quota.” 

“Forgive me just this once?” Kara bows her head slightly, a teasing smile on her face.

“Only if you take this.” Lena then proceeds to take out a couple hundred dollar bills and tries to offer it to Kara. But Kara covers her hand and closes it for her, the bills clutched in her fist. She is now fully aware of the warmth of Kara’s hand on top of hers, the softness of it on her skin. Now that she knows this, she’s not sure she can go back to not knowing. To not knowing who Kara is, really.

“Absolutely not! Tonight’s on me. Plus, that was not a true trademark Love is Crepe crepe, okay? I can totally do better. No, I will totally do better!” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes! Why don’t you come back tomorrow, and I’ll prove it to you.” 

Lena’s heart flutters at the idea of seeing Kara again. “I suppose I can settle for that.” 

“Good, it’s settled. So see you tomorrow?” 

“See you then.”  

She doesn’t linger for too much longer, hailing a cab and staring out the window until a waving Kara disappears from view. 

When she gets home, Lena opens her phone and calls her best friend.

“Oh, Sam. I think I’m in love.” 

“The date went well?” Sam asks incredulously from the other end of the line. 

“Oh god, no. The date was a disaster, I never wanna see that guy ever again.” 

Sam laughs. “Okay, then if not him, who? Start from the top, babe. What’s his name?” 

Lena closes her eyes, images of Kara’s beauty filling her mind. Of their dinner together, of the meandering and rich conversation they had tonight. Of the way Kara laughed with her whole body, and smiled with her whole face. 

“Well,” she begins, unable to wipe the large excited smile on her own face. “Her name is Kara.” 

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

My Medicine - A Xyx Fanfic

"Achoo!” The sneeze came right out of you as you sniffled for a few minutes. Your nose was blocked and was it just you or was it really cold in here? You were so exhausted, too.

“Love, guess who’s back from work~” You hear your husband call out. You’d usually get up and run to him, but you didn’t have the energy. Still, didn’t mean you wouldn’t try. You got up, barely, and put a blanket over your body then proceeded to try to walk outside of your room.

“Doll?” Xyx’s eyes had a hint of worry in them, “You alright?”

“Oh- Yeah! I’m fi-” several coughs come out before you can even finish your sentence. Xyx rushes to your side, checking your temperature

“Oh baby. Looks like someone’s caught a cold.” He says, “And she decided to start walking around instead of resting in her bed.

“Hey! Forgive me for wanting to see my husband. Hmph.” You say, but not without some more coughs coming out of you.

Xyx lets out a chuckle, “You’re forgiven. If you wanted to see me, you could’ve just texted so. Would’ve saved me from an awfully boring meeting with a client, for a day at least. I know you always miss my sexy face.”

“Forget I said anything.”

Before you could say anything else, Xyx starts carrying you, taking you to bed.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Don’t act like we’ve never done something like this, love” He smirks.

You felt the sheets behind you as Xyx gently places you on the bed. You knew you were blushing. You also knew why you started feeling a little warm.

“Now, you stay there alright? I’ll be right back.” he leaves and you watch, wishing you could just grab his hand and ask him to stay. You wanted to ask him to hold you tight, kiss you, and tell him that you didn’t need anything else. If only it was just the sickness talking. It definitely wasn’t.

A few moments go by and you groan, wondering where Xyx is. It felt like it had been hours since he left. How come he gets to go away like that when he just came back? Unfair.

Unfair is just another type of fair you remember Xyx say. You smile thinking of the video calls you guys have had. You’ve come so far from that.

You feel something fluffy under you. You looked and found Cat beneath your blanket. You slowly sit up, bringing them to your lap and petting them. They used their paws to push you down a bit, as if they know you’re sick and are trying to tell you to lie down. You do as told because why wouldn’t you? Cat was too cute for you to say no to anything. You giggle thinking of the time Xyx said Cat was just some stray

“And what’re you laughin’ about?” you see your husband at the doorway, carrying a tray with soup, some medicine, and a glass of water to you. You sit up again and smile.

“Just this lil thing called nunya” you manage to say.

“You dag.” He snickers, before walking towards you and placing the tray on the nightstand, “Drink this and take the medicine.”

“Are you trying to poison your own wife” you dramatically gasp. The sickness was really taking over you. “How could you do such a thing! And I thought you loved me.”

“Oh, m’lady… My deepest, most sincere apologies for not being clearer. For this isn’t poison, but a cure for your deadly disease” Xyx plays along, making you giggle.

“Aren’t you allergic to sincerity?” you raise a brow.

“You’re right. What sort of spell did you cast on me then?”

“Are you calling me a witch?”

“You have some serious gall to accuse me of such a crime. Where’s your testimony? Your evidence?”

You glare at him before smirking and blowing a kiss.

The man is a bit flustered at first, but gives you a smug look. He leans in for a kiss, but your index finger stops him from doing so.

“Nuh uh. I’m not gonna get you sick too.”

“I’m not gonna get sick from a kiss, doll.”

“We will literally share–” you pause from a moment, blushing a bit, “y-you know… And that means we’ll be sharing germs and bacteria and that’ll make you sick and–” before you finish your sentence, Xyx grabs the hand that stopped him from giving you a smooch.

“What a travesty.” he says before cupping your face and kissing you. It was warm and nice and you didn’t want to end it. You knew you should’ve because Xyx would have a chance of getting catching the same cold, but could anyone blame you? How were you supposed to pull away when he was this addicting.

When the two of you finally pulled away to breathe, you looked at him with a pout. “Okay, now you’re probably going to get sick and it’ll be all my fault.”

“I wouldn’t mind chucking a sickie for you, doll,” he winks, “and don’t blame me when you’re the one who blew me a kiss. It was bad enough that I already wanted to kiss you.”

You felt warm at the confession. Xyx being your husband didn’t make things any easier. You could never get used to the things he says.

“Now, love, drink the soup before it gets cold. Or I could always make you drink it… I have my ways.” his voice was deeper now, and you just gulped.

“Okay okay! I’m drinking it- Sheesh.”

You took the soup from the nightstand, taking a sip of it. It tasted warm and amazing. You recognized it to be your favorite and smiled before taking the medicine and drinking the water. Honestly, what would you do without Xyx?

“Thank you…” you clear your throat, “for this. It’s really helping with my throat.”

Xyx smiled at you, “Well I am your hero, babe.”

“Oh my knight in shining armor! How can I ever repay you?”

“I can think of a few ways…”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your grin, “I take it back. I don’t need to repay you.”

“Well, too bad there are no takebacks then.” he grins.

“Whatever. I’m tired. Get in bed, I want cuddles.”

Xyx chuckles, “So demanding, aren’t you?”

“Oh don’t act like you never are.”

“Can’t recall.”

“Xyx, please” you whine.

“Fine. Since you said please so sweetly.”

He lays next to you and you immediately hug him. Cat was now sleeping on one of your legs, but you carefully put the other onto Xyx. The two of you look at Cat, who seemed peaceful at the moment, before looking back at eachother. Honestly, you felt cured.

“Are you sure you’re not my medicine? I seem to be feeling better already.” you look into his deep emerald eyes.

“Is that so? Should I get closer to you then maybe?”

“Maybe you should.”

His laugh is soft and warm. It was so cozy. It felt like… home. You could stay like this forever and never leave.

“I love you, Xyx” you confess, like you have a million other times.

“I love you too, doll” his voice is deep and so sincere you could never doubt it.

You are my medicine

[bella-rose29]

Reminders of her - George Karim x gn!reader

requested by anon: George Karim x reader (established relationship) where one of the Visitors they have to seal is the reader’s dead mom or sister or father (whichever you want)

I am so so sorry that this has taken me forever to write, I have been swamped with assignments and work and then a period of no imagination whatsoever, so I'm very sorry about that anon! I also had no clue how to end it so sorry about that too

I tried to make this gn (since no gender was specified), but there may be a slip up or two so I'm sorry if there is <3

Hopefully this is roughly what you wanted anon!

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of character death (reader's mother) and dealing with grief, mentions of cancer (non-specific, but it's not aggressive).

Tag list: idk who wants to be tagged for George tbh (let me know if you do!) <3

(not my gif)

The inhabitants of 35 Portland Row were all relaxing in their various rooms when the doorbell sounded, startling everyone.

Lockwood hurried to the door, trying his best to not look too disgruntled in front of a possible client, but when he pulled the door open to see Y/n he gave up trying to rub the tea stain off the bottom of his shirt.

"Oh, hi. Everything alright?" They didn't say anything, head dipped so that Lockwood couldn't see their face, but when he heard the slight sniffles coming from Y/n he ushered them inside, immediately calling for George. Lockwood wasn't the best at dealing with people crying, and he'd had to learn for his job, but given Y/n was George's partner he figured he had a free pass this time. The boy in question came thundering down the stairs barely a minute later, pulling his jeans all the way up as he did so and fastening his belt before bringing Y/n into a crushing hug. Lucy appeared at the top of the stairs, peering at the scene in front of her, and when she saw her best friend crying she hurried into the kitchen to start making tea. Lockwood was left to stand awkwardly to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets while George comforted his partner.

"What's wrong, Y/n/n?" George asked, pulling back slightly to wipe away their tears. They sniffled a little bit, small sobs still breaking through as their chest heaved, trying to get the words out.

"It's- it's my mum," they broke off into tears again, hiding their face in George's t-shirt. "She- she's, uh... I need your help," they finished in a whisper, turning to look at Lockwood, and suddenly everything made sense.

"Where is she?" Lockwood asked softly, making eye contact with George. The two boys led Y/n into the kitchen, sitting them down at the table and providing a plate of biscuits (George was a compete hypocrite about the biscuit rule when it came to his partner). Lucy brought over a cup of tea, placing it down in front of Y/n with a small smile.

"Sort of just... everywhere. In the whole house. I don't know why she's only just turning up now, she's been dead for eight months."

"It doesn't always make sense," George said, pushing his glasses up. "We can come over tonight if you like, right Lockwood?"

The company head nodded, sympathetic smile on his face when Y/n looked his way, and Lucy murmured her agreement.

"That's decided then. We'll come over tonight and try and put her to rest completely, yeah?" Lockwood declared, and Y/n nodded, wiping the last of their tears away.

"Yeah, alright. Thank you."

~~~

That night, just before sunset, the four of them headed over to Y/n's house (the members of Lockwood and Co had refused to let them go back, insisting that they stayed until they were properly cheered up), kit bags slung over shoulders and rapiers at their hips. Y/n went without, having barely any Talent, clutching the silver rod that George had gifted them as a defence. Lucy and Lockwood strode ahead, George hanging back with Y/n as they dawdled.

"You alright?"

"I don't really know. I mean, she died of cancer, so that shouldn't really mean that she comes back as a Visitor, right? She died in her sleep, peacefully, and spent her last couple of months seemingly happy."

George was quiet for a while, debating what to say. He often had a habit of putting his foot in it, being the socially awkward person that he was, and dating Y/n had meant that he'd found himself thinking before he spoke much more. At first, he'd barely spoken to them when it was just the two of them, being too scared that he'd say something wrong and never see them again, but when they'd admitted that his blunt attitude was one of the things they most adored about him, he'd opened up more. Still, in situations like this a little thinking was required, especially since his partner's dead mother coming back as a ghost was the topic of conversation.

"Generally, Visitors seem to come back for unfinished business. Maybe she just wants to say good bye?"

"She had months for that though." Y/n was worrying their bottom lip in their teeth, a habit that had become more frequent since their mother's death.

"I really don't know, Y/n/n. Once we're there, though, I'm sure I will," he said, offering a small smile as they turned down their street. Y/n tried a smile of their own, but the worry was still there, growing with every step closer to their house the agents got.

"Come on you two, we're losing time!" Lockwood called, and George rolled his eyes.

"Ignore him. Those two can do without us for a bit if they need to. You alright? You're looking a bit pale."

"I- I'm fine, Georgie. I'm just... not really looking forward to this."

"I get it. Hey," he called, brushing his hand against Y/n's. "We'll sort it, yeah?" He linked their hands, and Y/n smiled properly, the action lighting up their face.

"Yeah. Thank you, George," they replied earnestly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

~~~

Y/n was worried.

It had been an hour since Lockwood, Lucy and George had set up, and while Y/n stayed in the kitchen, surrounded by the defences and armed with the silver that George had handed over earlier ("Just in case," he'd said, no hint of humour in his expression), the three agents had been eerily silent. They'd heard the creak of an occasional floorboard, and a whisper of voices from the living, but aside from that anybody observing the situation would think that Y/n was alone in the house.

They had zoned out a few minutes ago, getting bored of standing and waiting with nothing to do, when suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Mum?"

Their voice was shaking, damn it. Y/n had promised that they wouldn't get too scared, but the possibility of seeing their mother (and the further chance that their mother would try and attack them) was terrifying.

The figure crept closer, glowing faintly, and Y/n held their breath. It stopped just inside the doorway, and distantly Y/n heard themselves calling for George. Everything else was a haze. Time seemed to stop as the two of them observed each other, and while Y/n could feel a chill creeping up, the warmth they felt at seeing their mother's face again made it seem insubstantial. The trance was broken when Y/n was shoved to the floor, George landing on top as Lockwood and Lucy fought back against the now violent ghost of Y/n's mother.

"Are you alright? Y/n? Y/N?"

"Stop shouting! I'm fine," they huffed, unsure why George seemed so panicked.

"You were very nearly permanently ghost-locked, idiot!" Y/n's eyes widened.

"W-what? But I was fine! I didn't- I didn't think I was there for that long, was I?"

"Maybe, maybe not, but when we came in you were glazing over. I tried calling out to you but you weren't responding."

"Oh, so that's why you rugby tackled me to the floor." George leapt into action again at that, pushing up and offering a hand out to Y/n. Lockwood and Lucy had found the Source, and now the agency head stood with a small object wrapped in a silver net. "Is that... is that her?" Lockwood nodded.

"A comb, of all things. Luce says it was her favourite?"

"The one with the fake pearls in it?" Y/n asked, unable to tear their eyes off of the object.

"Yeah, looked like it. She um, she showed me something else," Lucy spoke, a little tentative. Y/n gestured for Lucy to continue, and the girl lead the two of them upstairs to their parents' bedroom. "There was a moment when she uh, she pointed to this drawer. There was a letter inside, addressed to you. I think she wrote it for you, and wanted you to have it. Did you know about it?"

Y/n shook their head. "No. I had no idea." Carefully they opened the drawer and lifted out the envelope inside, trying desperately to hold back the tears at seeing their mother's handwriting.

"Do you... do you wanna read it now? Because I can give you some space if you do," Lucy asked gently, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder.

"Please, thanks Lucy." The girl wrapped them in a hug, tight and crushing, and when she pulled away she wiped the tears off of Y/n's cheeks.

"We'll be in the kitchen if you need anything, alright?" Y/n nodded, sitting down on the bed when Lucy had shut the door behind her with a soft click and opening the letter.

~~~

A short while later a knock sounded on the door, and George's messy curls poked in, followed by the rest of his body. "Hey, how are you doing?" He came over and sat down next to them, placing an arm around their shoulders and bringing them in for a slightly awkward hug.

"I'm okay. I think," Y/n frowned.

"What... what did the letter say?"

"Just about how much she loves me, and how proud she is of me. It's funny, it doesn't feel like she's gone a lot of the time, but every now and then I'll see something that makes me think of her and I just... I have to stop myself from breaking down." They paused for a moment. "The paper smells like her. It's nice to have this, as a reminder of her."

George didn't say anything, instead just stroking their back, and they were glad for the comfort. He might have a tendency to say the wrong thing sometimes, or accidentally offend people, but George was a damn good partner, and Y/n was glad that he was there to help them.

The two of them headed downstairs a few minutes later, finding Lockwood and Lucy arguing about what the best kind of biscuit was over cups of freshly made tea. George joined the argument, gesturing wildly as he fought for his biscuit of choice, and Y/n could only chuckle slightly at their partner's antics. They gladly accepted the mug of tea that Lucy pushed their way, and smiled at the three agents gathered in their kitchen.

Their mother might be gone, leaving a hole in Y/n's heart, but these three people in front of them were just what was needed to fill it.

[angeliqueiguess]

kitchen nightmares (s.jn)

007 extra hours w.count:995

warnings:swearing, hyuck being an asshole and yn being a baby

Overtime had officially begun. Her friends had all left, leaving her alone with Johnny, who was still in the kitchen. Not that it bothered her… well, maybe a little. And now more, knowing they’d be alone for the next two and a half hours.

The last customers were gone, but they’d left the tables a complete mess. Y/n sighed, starting to clean the first table, muttering to herself about Mark and how, thanks to him, she’d bumped into him and shattered all those damn glasses and…

“Does the table owe you money or something?” Johnny’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, making her turn around, confused.

“What?”

“I’m asking if the table owes you money,” Johnny repeated, watching her with a barely-there smirk. “I mean, with the way you’re scrubbing it. Just because you don’t like the job doesn’t mean you have to do it halfway.”

“I do like my job,” she replied, a bit defensive.

“Oh, really? Tell that to your face sweetheart,” Johnny said dryly, turning back to the kitchen. Y/n rolled her eyes, a little annoyed, but also… why did she kind of like the way he talked to her? Was she going crazy?

Half a hour later, Y/n came back inside after bringing in the last few chairs from outside, only to bump into Johnny again.

“Who told you to bring those in?” he asked, frowning, arms crossed. She couldn’t help but notice his forearms, covered with a few band-aids from kitchen burns. “I asked you a question, Park.”

“Nobody. I brought them in so you wouldn’t have to… Plus, you were cleaning the kitchen,” she replied, trying to sound confident, even though she felt a bit nervous.

“If nobody asked you, then you don’t need to do it,” Johnny replied, his voice serious with a hint of dry amusement. “Or what, you wanted a prize for it?”

Y/n took a deep breath, biting her tongue to keep from snapping back. She decided to ignore his tone, keep cleaning, and focus on finishing quickly. But Johnny didn’t seem on the same page. A few minutes later, he was back, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, with a look of impatience.

“Are you planning to stay here all night?” he said bluntly. “At this rate, that’s what it’s gonna take.”

Y/n blinked, trying to keep calm.

“Well, I will if you keep distracting me, cook,” she said with a forced smile, resuming her cleaning.

He rolled his eyes and stepped over to the table she was cleaning, pushing her aside without asking and grabbing the cloth.

“Let me do it. This’ll take a year if you keep going like that,” he muttered, not even looking at her. ''And it's Johnny, not cook''

She folded her arms, half-irritated.

“Thanks, Johnny”

“I’m not doing it to help you,” Johnny said, wiping down the table briskly. “I’m doing it so I can get out of here before sunrise. Next time you break something, I’d honestly rather leave you to close yourself.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you!” she shot back, trying to sound less annoyed than she actually was.

Johnny let out a brief, dry laugh.

“Call it whatever you want. Just don’t go messing with things if you don’t know what you’re doing. Saves me time and less hassle.”

Y/n sighed and went to the front to rearrange the last chairs. As much as his cold, sarcastic comments got under her skin, there was something about them that made her feel weirdly nervous… but she wasn’t going to let him see that. When she returned, he’d already finished cleaning the last table and was putting away the rags, barely glancing her way.

When he finally noticed her back, he sighed impatiently.

“You done?” he asked, almost disinterested, heading towards the back where the lockers were.

“Yeah, we’re done,” she replied, arms crossed, her irritation clear.

Johnny shrugged and opened his locker, giving her one last, impassive look.

“Get your stuff before I change my mind and leave you to clean up tomorrow morning.”

As Y/n slipped off her apron and tucked it into her bag, she could feel Johnny’s gaze fixed on her back. So this is what it feels like? she thought, a little intrigued. She turned around, and sure enough, there he was, already wearing his jacket and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Mind not staring at me?” she said, feigning a bit of irritation.

“Now you know how it feels,” he replied, his tone flat as he pushed himself off the wall. Y/n noticed the clink of the restaurant keys in his hand.

They headed toward the front door, which Johnny opened without a second glance, stepping out first. Y/n sighed heavily and followed him.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, waiting while he locked up.

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, focused on the keys as he turned away and started walking in the opposite direction, toward the bus stops.

For a second, she thought about offering him a ride, but she was 80% sure he’d just keep walking without a word. And that other 20%? He’d probably just throw in some sarcastic response before heading off anyway. Shaking off the idea, she made her way to her car.

Inside, she started the engine but didn’t drive off right away. She sat there, lost in thought, wondering why she felt this strange pull toward him. Johnny did nothing but give her cold looks and make comments that drove her up the wall… yet there was something about him, something in the way he looked at her, that kept her thinking. With a small shake of her head, she pushed those thoughts aside, shifted into reverse, and finally headed home.

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taglist: @thegracerammy @neocupidd @pjsteroid @peterm4rker (lemme know it you'd like to be tagged <3)

[universallyrunawaypuppy]

Piece of glass

(you can also find my stories on Wattpad)

(WARNING: NSWF, MINORS ARE NOT WELCOME)

-pet names, praising, relationship Konig, softDom Konig- 

1,6K words

It was the first 3 days Konig spent with you since he arrived from his mission; it had been a difficult mission so he would be able to stay at home more than usual.  You had gone 3 months without seeing him and being still in your honeymoon phase, Konig missed no opportunity to show you how much he missed you. 

The first two days you were not able to get out of bed, on the third day, however, you had decided to take a "break" even though you were not sure you could hold out. It was late afternoon, you wanted to have a movie night, having always been a lover of vintage and movies you couldn't help but watch it on DVD; however, before the movie started, you decided to make something to eat and while Konig was sitting on the couch waiting for you under the covers, you were popping popcorn in the microwave, in the meantime you came up with an idea that would lead to a consequence you wouldn't mind: red wine. 

The two of you were of the opinion that opening a bottle of red wine didn't require a special occasion or being fancy, in fact as you were trying to reach for the glasses on tiptoe, your shorts were slipping down showing the elastic of your bow-tied panties, and certainly, the tank top you were wearing didn't help to buy you any better. With your hand outstretched upward and on tiptoe you managed to touch the edge of the glass and tried to bring your fingertips closer to the rim for an easier grip, but just as you were about to reach for it konig came into the kitchen "Hey Honey, all-" he didn't have time to finish the sentence that you gasped in fright and the crystal glass slipped to the floor breaking into a thousand pieces, and as icing on the cake the microwave began to beep making you gasp even more.

Konig immediately came to your rescue "bunny, are you hurt? you are barefoot, let me give you a hand" he said taking you by the hips without any effort and moving you to the part of the floor without glasses "love you shouldn't go around without slippers, you could really hurt yourself" he said holding you by the forearms, although you were not listening to him at that moment busy thinking about his big hands that were holding you up. You were getting wet again and he wasn't doing anything provocative. When he went to retrieve a broom you bent down on your knees and began picking up the larger pieces of glass with your bare hands. On the way back konig found you with your hand full of crystal pieces and scolded you "you must listen to me when I speak, I say this for your own good baby, I don't want you to get hurt." He said as he gently removed the crystal pieces from your palm and threw them in the trash. "get up" he said in his usual cold tone. he was not angry, just annoyed that you were being stubborn. As he swept away all the shards of glass you stood still behind him, hands behind your back, like a good girl, watching his every move. When he finished cleaning up, he went to put the broom away but you stood on all fours with your cheek on the floor to see if any more little shards had gone under the oven, konig came back and found you in that position, with your shorts peeking out of your panties from underneath and your tank top pulled up, you didn't notice his return, after all, he was a man used to being quiet despite his stature.

When he found you in that position he groaned and leaned down to grab you by the hips and lift you off the ground, he put you on his shoulder as if nothing was wrong and dragged you to the living room. he threw you on the couch, gently, and said still standing at the side of the couch "okay, you've been tempting me all day and now I'm tired, so now you take it and shut up. " he said in a lower voice than usual, with a tone full of lust and eagerness, his eyes showed the same. 

He got on top of you but without lying down, ran his big fingers over your belly and then went over it again from under your tank top. Slipping down he pushed the elastic of your yellow shorts with him, revealing your white panties with the pink bow; They were his favorite, because they made you look so pure, so untouchable...so virgin, even though you were anything but and he could confirm that. As soon as he saw your little panties, now wet, he grunted again and closed his eyes, as if trying to hold himself back from something. "lkleiner Engel what are you doing to me" he said on your lips just before kissing you, in that state konig couldn't close his eyes, he wanted to watch every little aspect, every little movement you made and take credit for it. The kisses became more passionate and wet and were dragged from your lips to your jaw where they then went to your neck. You were a mess, your hair already tousled, your turgid nipples trying to stand out from your tank top, your lips swollen and red as your hands caressed his still-covered chest. He let out involuntary moans now and then, and you began to feel a presence on his bare thigh. 

"Kon...ah...I want...I want you please" you moaned in a whisper, you weren't even sure if he would hear but he, attentive to your every movement, heard just fine and smiled "patience bunny, you have to be patient" he wanted to spite you, but you in that state barely knew your name; then a thought crossed your mind, how did he with just kisses make you so needy, like a little whore, shame took over and he noticed, it wasn't the first time it happened to you. "hey, baby, take it easy, remember to breathe, I'm staying here, I'm not moving" he said as if he had read your thoughts, you relaxed your muscles and let him. 

Your thighs and opened automatically when he came to kiss your belly button. the thing that made you lose your mind more than anything was how he kept his gaze on you while you struggled to even breathe.

As soon as konig arrived on the fabric covering your core he carefully observed the wet spot and put his tongue on it, applying a tiny bit of pressure to your center and causing you to close your eyes. but just then konig said "eyes on me baby" which more than a warning at that moment felt like a threat.; He wasted no time in gently sliding your panties down and opening your legs with his hands, which as you tried to close he seemed to maintain without any trouble. 

His hungry eyes watched your dripping center and he blew on it, the sensation sent shivers all over your body causing you to push your head back on the pillow; He slipped his tongue through your folds going everywhere except your clitoris, to your annoyance, you felt his hot, hungry tongue in places you didn't know you had, but all that wasn't enough, you wanted more, you wanted him. "Konig, I want you...n-no" you tried to explain but he interrupted you "you've been naughty today, I wonder if you have permission to come", you closed your eyes instantly, squeezing them tight, you needed him more than anything in that moment; "please...I-I'll be a good girl, I promise" you said, trying to lift your head to look at him. 

While you were talking, he stopped to observe you from below, smiling at your behavior and observing your every slightest movement, taking credit for it; then he sank into your folds continuing to grope your clit, lightly touching it with his tongue and causing you to moan a little, that verse sent Konig out of his mind and he started sucking your clit right away, strong and hungry. You let out strangled sounds as you gripped the couch with your hands, your legs begged to be closed but Konig had no intention of doing so, he ate you as if you were his last meal, hungrier than ever. He too, while devouring you, let out small roars. Soon you felt butterflies in your stomach, you arched your back and konig wasted no time placing a hand on your belly as he continued his meal, even though he was focused on your center, he noticed all your movements. 

Your eyes closed as you felt something approaching your center, your legs began to tremble and every movement he made seemed much more amplified "I-I'm about to c" you didn't have time to finish the sentence before you released all your pleasures on his mouth, pleasures that he obviously didn't waste but enjoyed with hunger. 

After a while you calmed down, your back rested on the sofa and your legs stopped shaking, the spasms decreased and your breathing became regular again. You finally saw your boyfriend's face, with his lips swollen, red and wet. He stood up as he smiled at you and said "my turn, engel"

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Hi! Sorry to interrupt your reading, this is the first one shot that I've ever wrote, tell me what you think, I'll appreciate it very much. Be, also, brutally honest but without being vulgar or stuff. Thanks, little ribbons, have a great day!

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[caliburn-the-sword]

finished reading scarlet; last thoughts and reactions and ponderings

was about to be like "ew wtf did not want r*pe in MY y/a book" AND THEN HE SLIPPED HER AN I.D. TO ESCAPE

thorne is SO real for only being concerned about his jacket despite human bites being very dangerous lol

why are these werewolves acting like vamps

it's kind of nice how cool thorne is with lunars with all the lunar hate there is - i remember when reading cinder being apalled about how she generalised them all as corrupt

YES SCARLET KNOWS SHE KNOWS NOW

NO NOT GRANNY I'M LITERALLY IN STUDY PERIOD RN I CAN'T CRY (note: i managed not to cry in study period but god my eyes burned for a while lmao)

tf i thought wolf was just being possessive in like a protective way against ran and not just a plain old possessive way. he's honestly making me nervous rn like goodness i can literally feel scarlet's fear rn. STOP WITH YOUR I CAN FIX HIM DISEASE AND RUN (note: okay he got brain fucky wucky by mind control so this isn't him)

HOLY SHIT THEY'RE ALL FINALLY MEETING I'M FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

i think kai is going delulu. i bet his office isn't bugged and he's got a spy. literally since cinder my money has been on torin. but maybe huy

omg kai's recognition of cinder's sacrifice by going to the ball <3

gotta agree with everything cinder's saying about kai's marriage because it's everything i've been thinking since kai decided to marry levana. i wish he would see how it's a bandaid for a stab wound. he's barely fixing a short term problem, which is gonna have the same long term problem regardless

the girls (all current pov characters) ARE FIGHTING. not mad tho because i'm a messy bitch who lives for drama <3

"She'd had the bridge built for herself out of very special glass, so that she could watch (...) all without being observed herself" levana YOU MEAN A TWO WAY MIRROR??? don't go acting all superior you're not special

from what wolf has described of his Tragic Backstory there is NO way he ISN'T a virgin. i'm so sorry that was my only takeaway but i'm trying to distract myself

"We met less than a week ago and in that time I've done nothing but lie and cheat and betray you" FKSDHFSDK sounds JUST like ouat rumpelstiltskin and yet he's STILL healthier than him and not toxic LMAO

wait did wolf need to pretend betray scarlet without her knowing instead of just making THAT the plan because those supersoldiers can smell hormones?? i bet they can. i reckon he needed her to feel REAL fear (note: now that i think about it it's probably just the bioelectricity crap but also ONLY the thaumaturge would be able to detect that???)

if i keep having to read "alpha female" with my own two eyes, i'm going to need bleach. marissa meyer you owe me financial compensation for the psychological distress i've been caused. 3 is in fact 4 times too many. it is a crime that it was ever thought into existence

predictions for cress

didn't do this last time between cinder and scarlet but figured it would be fun!! you guys get to silently laugh about how wrong i am, no spoilers

first off, doc erland's place in africa becomes the home base and cinder starts her training

someone tries to recreate garan's device since it will be useful for the rebellion - could be a joint effort between cinder and cress since they have the hardware and software down respectively. idk who's gonna fill the last role of like. bio stuff and the surgeries tho but we'll see

MORE THORNE BACKSTORY

definitely more wolf pov chapters now that marissa no longer needs to make him dodgy

cress is at least a LITTLE bit delulu wackers bonkers cray z lost her marbles etc etc from being so isolated for so long. i would LOVE to get into that mindset and character voice. would make for a very interesting pov

on reading the blurb:

i'm REALLY fucking dumb it finally occurred to me that in rapunzel the hero falls from the tower and gets blinded by thorns. so that tells me exactly who carswell thorne is (rip to when i thought he was the prince from sleeping beauty cause that's embarrassing). i wonder if he gets ejected into space from the satellite and his eyeballs freeze out of his sockets or something

i wonder WHY cress would be locked up by the queen BEFORE she was even able to hack since she wouldn't have been useful then. my first thought was that glamour doesn't work on her like with shells but she's not a shell herself but that wouldn't make sense because the thaumaturges seemed surprised by cinder and michelle benoit so it can't be that. for the sake of my running joke of every fairy tale character either being related or knowing each other, i'm just gonna pin it down to her being somewhere in the family tree and leave it at that

can these people STOP getting separated from each other?? i can't handle it. from the blurb it seems like the boys got cut off from the girls??? and then kai is also separated from all of them lol. this is a prediction only in the sense that i'm trying to guess who's getting separated from who. i think it would tie well into separating everyone from their love interest like poor cinder

i wonder if this will be the book that we meet princess winter since with royal etiquette and all that her presence will p r o b a b l y be required during all them wedding preparations and what not

@eddisfargo @francforever @winterrhayle @winterpinetrees

[authorbiancawilcox]

My Favourite What If (Chapter 1)

Falling in love with your brother’s best friend is a big no-no, but that’s not why I’m panicking right now.

I’m panicking because not only is Kyle Johnson my brother’s best friend, but he’s also my new boss. I look down at my phone in my hands, feeling like I might faint if I don’t sit down.

It had never been a problem, my crush on Kyle. Of course, it made it awkward hanging out with my brother if he was there too, and it did lead to some embarrassing moments when I would get flustered seeing him shirtless when he stayed over, but those were small things. 

The message is from my brother, Andy, who I love, but sometimes he gets me in trouble when I could do without it. Andy is away right now, at university studying to become a dentist. Unlike him, I hadn’t wanted to do any other schooling after I graduated. Which he somehow thought I needed help with, since I hadn’t been able to get a job for the past few months.

Hey Hanna, Kyle said he has a position as his secretary…

Why does he always have to do this? I skim my eyes over the rest of the message, and it’s even worse than I thought. He actually told Kyle I needed the job, and that I would be happy to do it. Well, I guess I’m screwed. I don’t bother answering him; he can’t be stuck in left on read jail, and I instead open my messages with Kyle. Or lack thereof. 

I nibble my lip and look at our bare message history. The exchanges we have had were along the lines of talking about Andy or asking for the wifi password. I’m only two years younger, but we don’t talk. Maybe if we had, this wouldn’t be so awkward. 

I decided to bite the bullet and send him a message. It’s 8 AM on a Sunday, so I’m not sure if I’ll get a response anytime soon. I put my phone on silent and finish my bowl of soggy cereal. Mum has already left for her job at the daycare down the road, so really I can just lounge around all day.

I check my phone, and my heart drops. No response from Kyle, and it’s been ten minutes. I can lounge around all day, maybe watch some TV, but I can’t. Instead, I shower and dress in a comfy sundress, tying my brown hair into a bun. I start in the kitchen and work my way out until four hours later, the house is clean.

I grab myself a cold glass of pink lemonade and flop onto the couch. It’s only then that I remember Kyle, and I check my phone. My heart skips a beat when I see his text.

***

I hadn’t had a job before, but my mother made sure I was prepared to go to interviews. 

I walk into the glass doors of the tall building, dressed in a slim pencil skirt, a dark pink blouse, and professional but still cute flats. I look the part, if only I could feel it. I swallow around the scream that wants to escape my throat and walk up to the front desk. A lady is seated behind it, maybe a few years older than me. When she sees me, she smiles, and I feel myself break into a sweat. I don’t know if I can do this, work underneath him.

Kyle isn’t the owner of Liceno Hills Paper, but his father is. If I do anything wrong, if I get fired from this job, not only will I burn a bridge with Kyle, but I will with one of the most important people in Liceno Hills. No pressure, right?

“Hi, I’m here for my first day? Hanna Jones.” The words don’t sound right coming from my mouth, and she shoots me a sympathetic smile. So it’s not just me feeling like I’m dropping the ball on this, am I? She writes on a sticky note the floor, and tells me it’s the door at the end of the hall. Kyle’s office, where I’ll meet him and he’ll talk me over my job. Surely being a secretary won’t be too difficult, right?

I fold the note and tuck it in my purse, and thank her. The elevators are on the left, and I hop inside. I press the third floor. I didn’t need the paper, but it’s nice to have anyway. The ride up isn’t long enough to get rid of all my nerves, but it helps to get rid of most. The hall that the elevator door opens on is short and void of any doors besides the one at the end. I frown and think back on the receptionist’s instructions. I hope I don’t look as helpless as I apparently seem, especially in front of Kyle.

I walk down the hall, feeling myself tremble a little, and knock on the thick, oak door. At first, there’s nothing, and I check my watch. 9 AM on the dot, and from Kyle’s messages, even a little after 9 was fine on my first day, in case I had gotten lost. I knock again, and this time, there’s an answer. The door swings open, and in the doorway, dressed in a suit and tie stands Kyle. I’ve only ever seen him in sweats and loose tees, and years ago in a school uniform. Seeing him in a well-fitted suit, with his hair combed back and face clean-shaven, it’s almost impossible not to swoon. I get myself under control and smile up at him.

Be professional, he is helping you out.

“Hi, Hanna.” He steps out of the door and waves me in. His office is large enough for two desks and a few comfortable-looking chairs against the wall, but other than that, it’s bare. Even Kyle’s desk is bare, with only a monitor on top. No picture frame, no bit of personality. I flick my eyes back to my brother’s best friend and feel myself color as I catch his eyes, already staring at me. Being professional is going to be a lot harder than I thought.

I can hardly concentrate on what Kyle, Mr. Johnson, tells me, but I get the gist of it. For today, answer calls, answer emails, and rearrange his work calendar around said emails. Later on, he says as he leans over my shoulder and types something on my new keyboard, I’ll have a hand in the harder stuff. I breathe in his cologne, and dangerous thoughts fill my head.

I turn to him, and he’s so close that I can count the smattering of freckles over his nose. He goes to say something, and I wait for it. He looks away, and then must decide on something else. Standing straight, Kyle moves out of my space and back over to his desk. I miss his warmth, but I’m also thankful that I didn’t make a fool out of myself.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Johnson.” I give him a shaky smile and toy with the edge of my pencil skirt. There’s a moment of silence between us before he nods and sits down.

I blow out a slow sigh and turn to start reading emails.

-

Read the whole short story for free on Amazon.com

[z0mbicide]

cool bug andrew facts bc i'm thinking abt him So Much at the moment. i love my special lil guy

tws/cws for discussions of alcoholism, non-consensual act of turning someone into a vampire, unhealthy friendships, traumatic near-death experience, and description of violence

he has his bachelor's in archeology and anthropology

a couple years after getting his bachelor's, he decided to go back to school to get his master's in archeology. he didn't get to finish his final year because he was turned

very socially dominant and larger than life

has a habit of not thinking before he speaks

has difficulty taking accountability for his actions and hates being called out on his shit (he does get better about this, it just takes time)

doesn't know how to properly apologize for things, so he just pretends the wrongdoing never happened after a couple days (again, he gets better, it just takes time)

he used to work at tgi fridays and a coin-op arcade (before it shut down) when he was still human

wore glasses before he was turned. his vision was corrected after turning, so he quit wearing them

more under the cut

he and xander look very similar (people mistake them for siblings frequently), but the key differences are that andrew is shorter, has silver eyes, has visible scars on the right side of his face and neck, has freckles, and his nose is a little crooked after having it broken in high school

the scars on his face and neck are from being attacked by a vampire and nearly killed

he's a recovering (functional) alcoholic, and started drinking when he was in high school. he got clean just before graduating from college

despite alcohol no longer affecting him, he still stands firm in never drinking again

he's the weakest vampire of his bloodline and of his vampiric "family" and he's very insecure about it

he's also the outcast/outsider/black sheep of said "family" and has nearly cut ties several times because of how poorly they've treated him

the house he lives in now is as far away from everyone as he could get while still being in town

he hates the fact he's going to look 24 for the rest of his (after)life

he was turned into a vampire without his consent by his best friend ("i know you were just trying to save me, and i respect that. [..] you made the decision.. but i wasn't able to have a say in it.") and he still holds a bit of resentment toward him for it despite forgiving him to a degree regarding the whole thing

he and his best friend share their death date, october 31, 2020

he's not the greatest friend. as much as he does love and care for his best (and sometimes only) friend, he has a bit of a habit of disregarding his feelings when they don't align with his own. he does improve this behavior, but it takes him some time after turning to do so

doesn't like feeding on humans very much, but knows he can't survive solely on bloodbags, so he just sucks it up (ha) and "live feeds" as quickly as possible

very light sleeper now that he's a vampire (he doesn't need nearly as much sleep anymore, but he still likes doing it)

didn't like xander at first, but warmed to him over time and they became close enough for him to see xander as a surrogate older brother

the trauma surrounding the events of his turning didn't hit him right away, but when it did, it fucked him up bad

he doesn't remember much about the turning itself because he was literal moments away from dying and barely conscious, but he does remember the feeling of his flesh being torn from his body and being covered in his own blood when he was attacked

has a lot of pent up anger and aggression about so much shit, so he uses whatever physical methods he can to unbottle those feelings (he has several torn punching bags as a result)

sometimes he goes back to his hometown at night and sits at his grave and looks at the things his mother and older brother leave there. his empty casket is buried next to his father

despite regular food not being able to sustain him anymore, he still eats it. he loves meat in particular, and decided to learn different ways to prepare various kinds that he didn't already know how to do so he wouldn't get sick of it. he's no chef, mind you, but his success rate isn't terrible

because he's a member of a wealthy vampiric house he has a lot more money than he could ever spend in a human lifetime. he's personally not used to having a lot of money, so he still spends sparingly like he did as a "juuust able to make ends meet" college kid

[therandomavenger]

Flight of Ideas

A lot of people like to ask writers, and other creative types, ‘Where do you get your ideas?’ And that is, in many ways, the wrong question. I, like many other writers, have a thousand ideas before breakfast (to plagiarize Lewis Carroll). Coming up with ideas is not the problem.

At least, it’s not the problem the way the people who are asking about it mean it. Ideas kind of follow me around like a swarm of butterflies, and it can be an effort to catch one or two of them and put them in my pocket without completely destroying their wings.

Actually, that sounds like a terrible thing to do to butterflies. I regret this metaphor (yes, I know it was technically a simile).

What I mean is the problem has always been too many ideas, not a lack of ideas.

And yes, I know there are some writers who struggle with idea generation. We’ll get to that later. I know I am not speaking for all writers here.

I described this whole ‘butterfly swarm of ideas’ thing to my psychiatrist and one point and he looked at me, really concerned, and adjusted his glasses before dropping this bomb on me: ‘Chad, that sounds like a symptom of mania.’

Oh.

Shit.

He went on to explain, and I did some research on my own, and … welp, he’s right.

Flight of ideas: A rapid speech or mental pattern with abrupt topic changes characterized by loosely connected or unrelated thoughts. Flight of Ideas is commonly observed in manic episodes of bipolar disorder, reflecting a manifestation of disorganized thinking and elevated mood.

–Austin Rausch, MS, LPCC, LICDC

Welp, there’s me told.

And I do tend to have a lot of ideas when I’m entering a manic episode. It’s one of the signs. If I plot out three seven-book fantasy series in one evening, you know a storm’s-a-comin.’ In those cases, I will also throw in a couple of life-changing career or education goals, as well as start focusing on about five home improvement projects. Also, I might decide to launch a podcast? I’ll definitely order all the equipment for it! These things all seem to happen at once.

But I kind of don’t want to see the ideas themselves as the problem. In a manic state, it’s hard to decide which ideas are worth pursuing and which are hot—but entertaining—garbage. But there are always some gems in there, and I wouldn’t want them to go away. I kind of see this is not so much a symptom of mania, but as a gift of mania.

And really, it’s a gift that keeps giving even when my mental state is closer to a healthy baseline. I tend to have a lot of ideas for stories. When I was reading only novels and series, it was novel and series ideas, now it’s just as likely to be shorter ideas, and now that I am in Art school, ideas for visual projects. There’s a lot of them. I’m writing them down in my spare moments. I refuse to see this as a problem.

I sat down one day and wrote down a list of books I wanted to write. These are somewhat developed ideas that I thought were strong enough to be viable. I stopped writing the list when I got to 27.

Now, this isn’t really a problem. Will I write all 27+ of these books? Maybe, maybe not. I mean, time might have a vote in this, but I’m not that old. If I write 3 books a year, which I’ve been doing for the past couple of years (and some of these are novellas) it would only take me 9 years. I’ll barely be 60.

What I’ve decided to do is write some basics outlines for these books and do what I do best: put them on a schedule! Now, my schedule doesn’t have dates on it because that makes me put way too much pressure on myself. My schedule is basically a list. And I have solid plans for the next 7 projects.

               Finish World Enough and Time (current WIP, standalone sci-fi romance novella)

               Write Blood of the Saints (post-apocalyptic standalone fantasy short story/novella)

               Write The Lion and the Sparrow (standalone fantasy novella)

               Write Valley of Storms (Ascension Apocalypse book 2)

               Write Seeds of Hope (standalone sci fi novella)

               Write The Glittering Tomb (The Circle and the Shadow book 2)

               Write Stars Without End (Broken Stars finale)

3 of those projects short. I hope. These are all ideas that I’ve developed to the point that I am ready to start writing them. I have many others in more nascent stages. And clearly, I have not taken the advice that says, ‘Finish 1 series and the move on to the next.’ I know that’s good advice. But my muse has adhd (obviously) so here we are. Also, no traditional publisher in their right mind is going to let me do things in this order, Ursula Vernon/T. Kingfisher’s career notwithstanding. So, thank God that self-publishing is an option.

And this is just the writing. I have Curse of the Onyx Heart (The Circle and the Shadow book 1) basically ready to go as soon as I order the cover. And Beneath the Silent Stars (Broken Stars book 5) will go to the editor in March. I’m hoping World Enough and Time will be ready to publish by November.

So … I have a lot of ideas. I’ve learned how to snag hold of them and develop them to the point that they work as complete stories. I’m learning how to do that with art as well. I refuse to see this as a symptom of mental illness, or if it is, thank God there’s no cure.

As for the people who tell me they struggle to come up with ideas, I don’t have much advice, except to say you need to be absorbing all sorts of stories in various media, and figuring out which ones speak to you and why. That will help you find your own unique voice. You also need to be going out into the world and having Experiences. Work some crappy (but not abusive) jobs. Take a trip that scares you. Fall in love and get your heart broken. There are many experiences that are out there waiting for you and many of them don’t even cost any money. You have some sort of internal antenna that needs to be out, collecting signals, or, if you like this metaphor better, you need to be looking for the butterflies and carrying a net to catch them with. You find what you’re looking for (thanks, reticular activating system!), so if you’re looking for ideas, they will come to you. That may mean you need to change from being a passive observer of what is happening to someone who is always trying to figure things out, and maybe even putting themselves in the middle of the action. Or develop bipolar disorder. That’s what worked for me!

A Flight of ideas might be a symptom, but it is also a gift. And I’m glad that I’ve been given treatments for my mental illness that have not taken this away from me. I would miss it. It feels like a vital part of myself. I don’t know who I would be without it.