#in search of the perfect peach

[bloodmaarked]

➫ monthly book round-up: august 2024

books read: 8 [=] average rating: 3.75 [-6%] average speed: 13 days [+65%] total pages: 2,396 [-22%] yearly goal progress: 55/50 [110%] best of the month: crime and punishment, fyodor dostoyevsky worst of the month: leave the world behind, rumaan alam

4.5* reads:

empireland: how imperialism has shaped modern britain, sathnam sanghera

water moon, samantha sotto yambao

crime and punishment, fyodor dostoyevsky

the hound of the baskervilles, arthur conan doyle

3.5* reads:

family lore, elizabeth acevedo

the vanishing half, brit bennett

2.5* reads:

leave the world behind, rumaan alam

in search of the perfect peach: why flavour holds the answer to fixing our food system, franco fubini

currently reading:

an african history of africa, zeinab badawi

the muse, jessie burton

the body in the library, agatha christie

[judgingbooksbycovers]

In Search of the Perfect Peach: Why flavour holds the answer to fixing our food system

By Franco Fubini.

[nebuvoid]

so apropos nothing, did any other country force this wedding magical girl show on you as a kid? with terribly catchy openings and a focus on romantic love?

like imagine if sailor moon transformed into fucking wedding dresses and all their weapons are makeup lol

[joelsmochi]

every man gets his wish - joel miller

rating: E 18+ pairing: neighbor!joel x f!pornstar!reader summary: joel discovers his next door neighbor makes porn in her spare time. once she's confronted, she finds out that he has an interest in helping create content ;) warnings: not proofread, no physical descriptions other than reader having an unidentified tattoo on her thigh and nice peach, unspecified age gap (ur choice pookie), [m] masturbation, objectively joel is a bit of a perv, some awkward dialogue, literal porn. literally, degradation (they get a lil rough), f + m oral, smacking/spanking, daddy kink (slight ddlg vibes too), pet names and plenty of dirty talk YUM wc: 3.2k a/n: happy valentine's day smut sluts :D!

series masterlist | main masterlist

He almost couldn’t believe his eyes, but he’d recognize that tattoo anywhere; his gaze followed the tattoo on the back of your thigh as you rode your cute little excuse for a toy.

Your soft moans and breaths echoing through the speakers on his laptop made his legs tremble against the old desk chair in his room while he fucked his fist.

He didn’t even think twice about the video he clicked on. He just knew he was horny and in need of quick release, so he typed his favorite keywords into Pornhub’s search engine and clicked the sixth video that only showed your ass. He realized he never noticed how juicy it was, and the oil or lotion or lube or whatever you fucking used to make it so goddamn shiny only emphasized how perfect it was.

Staring at the screen, he grasped the armrest in one hand and cock in the other, watching your puffy pussy cream all over the dildo. He matched the strokes of his hand with the rhythm of you bouncing. Slowing down, speeding up, only fucking the tip or grinding—he reenacted every movement of yours as best he could.

Even waiting until you were shaking and shouting the words, “I’m cumming—fuck yes! Just like that baby,” before cumming with you.

He watched the last few minutes of the video, watching you slap the dildo on your creamy cunt and play with it a little more along with standing up off of your bed and jiggling your ass in your hands. You giggled softly watching yourself. Then, much to his surprise, you sat down in front of the camera and smiled.

He wasn’t expecting you to reveal your face, so when the video ended he looked out of his bedroom window into yours. You were lying on the bed reading a book in the very spot where you recorded that filthy video.

You weren’t trying to tease him, he knew that, but it certainly felt that way.

♡

Joel had successfully managed to evade you for a week feigning work has been keeping him too tired for company. He found himself a touch jealous that the world had seen you naked before him despite your relationship being completely platonic.

You owed him nothing, not even an explanation, but he still felt weirdly possessive over you. He had a slight crush on you when you first moved in, but you were so much younger than he was, and in his eyes you'd want nothing to do with such an old man like himself. Not to mention the 'crush' was mostly just a lingering desperation to fuck you.

The discovery led him to do a deep dive into your profile on the website. There he discovered what seemed like a plethora of your content along with your affinity for degradation whether it was to yourself or towards others.

However he felt like he could finally breathe when he saw it was all solo content. You didn't even seem to entertain the idea of fucking someone else and uploading it. He even felt a sliver of hope that he could be your first real fuck on camera, but if he already struggled with confronting his own feelings towards you then how could he ever open up the opportunity to doing a video with you?

Joel was finally over avoiding you. He was ready to admit his discovery to you and go from there. He just prayed you wouldn't freak out.

"Hi, Joel!" You greeted after opening your front door. "What's been goin' on cowboy, I've been a little lonely on this side of town."

He followed your actions and sat on your sofa; as instant as a heartbeat you noticed he was off. Nervous? Worry? Anger? You struggled to read him.

"Somethin' the matter?"

He pulled himself out of his daze and looked at you, mouth hanging open like he couldn't manage the words. They just sort of... Spilled out.

"I found your porn on PornHub the other day and I don't care that you sell porn. I really don't. You're a grown woman and it's your body and you can do whatever you want. I just felt wrong not tellin' you."

Poor Joel.

You wanted to laugh at him, tell him there was no guilt in finding it or even watching it (because let's face it, you know he did).

"Okay," you said.

"Okay..."

"...Did you like it?" You asked after feeling a little uneasy with the silence.

"Hell yeah," he responded without hesitation making you giggle.

"Really?" You tittered, "I feel like it gets old."

This was his golden opportunity. At the very least he could pass what he was about to say off as a joke.

"I could always help with that," he chuckled.

You were clearly taken aback by his statement but still smiling. "I'm don't like sharing my money, Joel," you scoffed.

"So don't pay me," he said just as he leaned in a little closer. "Just fuck me."

You couldn't fight the blush that rose to your cheeks and he cockily took notice of it.

"Are you fucking with me?" You bashfully asked.

This made him lean in closer, close enough for you to smell him, close enough to feel his breath cascading over your collarbones, close enough to know that the dark look in his eyes wasn't mischief. It was desire.

His hands cupped your jaw so that he could bring your nose to his. You felt beautifully trapped between his hands, gaze, and aura. Suddenly you were filled with the desire to let him take you in any way he wanted to imagine.

"You know what my favorite video is?" He whispered, breath hitting your lips. "You were on your side, getting ready to cum, and you kept saying I belong to you until you were screaming. Damn near crying. Your little fucktoy was soaked. You had cum everywhere. But the best part was when you did start to cum. You couldn't even look away from yourself, you looked too damn good and you fucking knew it."

"I'd look even better with you inside of me," you told him.

He sharply inhaled before placing his needy lips onto yours, pressing his face in as much as he could.

You moaned into his open mouth, reaching for his tongue with your own. His hands roamed down your body until they reached your hips; showing off his strength, he lifted you into his lap and stood up not wanting to waste another second.

He tried to be careful on the stairs but his eagarity caused him to misstep and almost drop you; he left no room for embarrassment and quickly returned to running up with you giggling at the mishap.

Joel placed you on the bed standing with his jean-covered erection eye level with you. "Where's your camera?"

"Really wanna record it, hmm?" You said softly, running your hand along his hard length and motioning your head to the dresser behind him.

He grabbed it, muttering, "Wanna show everyone you're mine now," whilst turning the camera on.

You cocked an eyebrow up as if to say oh really. "Is that so? I'm all yours now?"

Smiling, he pointed the now recording camera at you. He cupped your chin and dragged a finger over the bright smile you wore. "You're all mine now, darlin'."

You giggled coyly then kissed his clad erection slowly with eyes that remained on the lens.

"Quit teasin'," he demanded with a playful lilt.

You hummed and fake pouted, pulling your face away to toggle his jeans. "There are nicer ways to ask," you teased.

"I'm not askin'."

"Oh? My apologies, daddy."

Your hand began pumping his thick cock when you said that, making his cock jerk hard within your tight grip.

"Daddy, huh?" He entertained; you seductively nodded. "S'pretty right here..."

"Where I belong," you hummed.

Then, you lined your tongue up with the base of his cock, just barely teasing his balls, and licked a stripe up his girthy shaft before twirling your tongue around his red hot tip. You carefully watched as his face contorted, ensuring it was with pleasure and looking for any sensitive spots he may have.

He seemed to favor your tongue on his cockhead so that's what you prioritized for a minute. You tongue kissed it as if it were his mouth. Licking and sucking and pulling it into your mouth feverishly.

His cock tasted manly and the length was just as impressive as him. You finally pulled more of him into your mouth allowing him the privilege of feeling your gummy cheeks swell and close around his dick.

A strained groan left his throat and his head fell back in pleasure. You pushed some of him into your throat to gag, earning more spit to pump the rest of his length with.

Joel was enamoured to say the least. Your wide eyes locked with his letting him know you loved sucking his cock as much as he did. Spit hung from your chin prompting him to reangle the camera to get the side view of everything.

He placed a hand on the back of your head and gently fucked your throat. You moaned, grabbing his ass and pulling him in for more pain, more suffocation.

Your throat gagged over and over again, imitating the feeling of your swallowing his dick. You loved how he shamelessly moaned, filling your ears with the sexy sounds of his calloused whimpers and content praises.

"Such a good girl, sucking daddy's cock like that," he groaned. "You like the taste, don't you? Such a good little slut." He smacked your jaw as encouragement to keep doing whatever magic you were fucking performing.

Once your throat began to get sore you pulled your mouth off of him, still opting to use your hands as he laid you down and rested on top of you, giving you the sloppiest kiss you'd ever received and assisting you with undressing.

He tasted his cock on your lips and chin and slurped up whatever precum and spit you had leftover. It felt nasty and passionate, with subtle moans spilling from both of you, and Joel couldn't get enough of it.

"Sit on my face," he breathed.

"Sit on your face?"

"Mmhm."

You set the camera up on the dresser looking at the screen to ensure it would capture everything before complying with his wish. He let out a muffled moan as soon as your wet pussy came in contact with his wet mouth.

On the camera, everything could be seen: your cunt glistened effortlessly and his tongue lapped up whatever your body poured for him. His scruff tickling your freshly shaved skin made you giggle and moan, little noises everywhere that sung like a melody in his ears.

Your clit tingled with a pressure that encouraged you to started riding his face. In response Joel's calloused hands came up to grip your ass and assisted your movements.

He squeezed one cheek almost too hard before spanking it a few times, your flesh easily bruising red and stinging deliciously.

"Joel, your mouth... Perfect," you blabbered. You were filled with bliss: your eyes were closed, fingers twirling playfully in his messy hair.

God, he licked you so fucking good. So messy but that's what made it effortlessly perfect.

"I—oh my God. Fuck! I love your fucking mouth," you moaned loudly.

"Mhm?"

You shuddered at the vibrations, hips stuttering into his licks and sucks even deeper.

"Yes, Joel!" You cried, "Fuck you're gonna make me cum... You're gonna make me cum!"

He spanked your ass even more at this, making both cheeks turn a bashful color and jiggle against his jawline.

With trembling thighs you managed all of your strength to hump him harder and faster. Doing whatever you fucking could to reach your climax.

"Yesyesyesyesyesyes!" You happily cheered as your juices began to relentlessly pour out of your squelching cunt and down his chin.

A satisfied smile rose to your face as your clit throbbed through the orgasm Joel had just given you. You slowed down on your own time allowing him to savor every last drop he'd be tasting for now.

You carefully removed your weight from his face, feeling more out of breath than ever. Meanwhile Joel sat up and swiped up some of your come with his thumb just before forcing it into your mouth and using his other hand to pinch out some that managed to get inside of his nose.

You were a tad embarrassed by his action but his subtle grin let you know that there was nothing more sexy than getting you so wet that it literally almost suffocated him.

Your mouth latched into him, cherishing the scruff surrounding his face. He went to lay on top of you again, your head now hanging off of the foot of the bed; he held your legs to your chest and slid into you easily making you whine at the slight burn that came with being stretched out.

With furrowed brows and an agape mouth, he incandescently moaned into the thick air while his thick thumb found your sensitive clit. You flinched and exhaled harmoniously at the combination of pleasure, enriched in the ecstasy he gave.

"You're so fuckin' tight, babydoll. Agh—almost can't take it," he taunted. "M'gonna have to ruin ya."

He gently released the grip of your legs and put his weight onto you. His arms slithered beneath you, wrapping around you in a way that made you feel safe. Then he kissed you, much more softly than before and rolled his hips back and forth. Your slick walls gripped him, trying to suck him in deeper.

His lips pulled off of you with a pop and he licked a thick line from your clavicle to behind your ear as if he magically knew it was your sweet spot.

You giggled and shivered at the ticklish feeling, enduring it until it started to feel more sensual. He felt you relax within his touch and took it as opportunity to nibble the spot, biting it just enough to hurt a little bit.

Between his movements and your sweaty bodies sticking together you felt almost useless; you were used to doing the work, giving instead of taking. But it felt too good to stop now.

When you clawed at his back he pushed himself up and started slamming into you. You gasped, digging your nails into his arms.

"Love those pretty little sounds you're makin' f'me," he hummed, pushing his hand into your exposed neck and gripping it. "You like that? Hm? Ohh, you fucking love it. Look at you."

You raised a hand and smacked his cheek lightly—your way of saying fuck you considering his grasp of you. He reciprocated, landing a firm smack to your face and earning a smile in return.

"Fuckin' brat needs to be put in her place—"

You shook your head attempting to hum out a no.

The hand he had around your neck reached up to squish your cheeks so that he could come eye to eye with you. "God, fuck. I can't even punish you when you look at me with those pretty eyes," he said defeatedly. "Look at you, babydoll. You're so fuckin' tight. Best fuckin' pussy ever. So wet, just f'me."

"All yours, Joel. I'm all yours."

"Yeah?" He cooed. "You're all mine?"

"Fuck yes!"

"Cum for me, baby. Yeah, cum on my cock," he pleaded, "get it nice and wet for me darlin', need you to cum for me."

Between his scruff voice and brutal thrusts you found yourself falling into another orgasm, everything around you ceased to exist.

The world went quiet aside from Joel's encouragements and praises; you could feel the blood pumping throughout your body, your heart punching against your chest, and your body molding to the twists and curves of Joel's body.

As you squeezed and scratched and begged him for more more more you felt the tension between your legs dissolve passionately into a sear so strong you felt it warm and burning the flesh along your belly.

Joel watched your chest rise and fall with your tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. He rode you out until the very end of your high before picking you up and sitting on the edge of the bed with you straddling him.

Feeling even more horny and turned on than before you wasted no time and began bouncing on his painfully hard dick.

He was fighting his climax, needing to feel you wrapped around him as long as he could take.

"You feel so fucking good, daddy," you whined, "want your cum."

"You want me to cum inside you babydoll?" He pouted.

"Yes Joel. Want you to fill me up..."

"Gonna ruin that pretty pussy," he grunted, "gonna make you mine. This pussy belongs to me now, doesn't it?"

He listened to you whimper and weep and whine, coaxing you through it all while offering a few pops to your ass and thighs for encouragement.

You watched him lay down, arms folded behind his head to enjoy the little show you were putting on for him. Hair bouncing and flaying everywhere while you rode him with a bobbling head—the view from where he was looked pretty fucking perfect.

Your movements halted and you managed to turn around on his cock while keeping it inside; hearing a strained gurgly moan come from him as a result, you mercilessly began riding him again giving him the best view of your ass as it clapped against the peak of his belly.

"Good fuckin' slut," he slapped your tatted thigh and watched intently for a moment or two. "Good girl, mhmm. Doin' such a perfect job on daddy's cock."

Joel then sat up and reached for your clit, rubbing the sweetest little circles on it and using his free hand to turn your face to kiss him.

Reverse cowgirl had always been his favorite position, but he can't remember a time or even a moment where it felt this fucking good.

"You're gonna make me cum, baby," he whispered with his forehead leaning against yours. "Gonna make me fuckin' cum. Tha' what you want, baby? Want your daddy to fill this fuckin' pussy up?"

He gave your clit a mean smack but it only made you go faster.

"Need you to cum! Fucking—ohh! Cum for me, please daddy. Want you to f-fill me up!"

Joel began thrusting to meet you halfway, and his eyes stayed locked with yours as he muttered a string of profanities.

"Oh shit. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. Fuck yes!"

He painted your pussy with his hot, sticky ropes of cum, moaning your name over and over with fluttering eyes and a tight grip on your hips. He thrusted a few more times before pulling out and meeting you with a few more soft kisses as a thank you.

You felt his cum slowly pouring out of your swollen cunt, trailing down his softening cock and on the sheets. You two stayed like that for a while, savoring the moment and taking your time.

A while later while he was cleaning up between your legs he said, "You better upload that video."

"You weren't joking?" You scoffed, wearing a smile.

"I wasn't joking," he said contently.

That night once he had fallen asleep in your bed, you decided to upload the full video uncut with the perfect title...

My DILF Neighbor Comes Over For A Creampie ♡

346K Views | 93% | 16 Hours Ago | ♡ 532

[milo-is-rambling]

Fuck hyperfixation meals for real,,, what do you mean I ate a bacon egg and cheese sandwich at least once a day for a month and a half and now the taste and texture of eggs makes me sick and I only eat granola cereal and granola bars

[bbdeongi]

Our Pretty Baby

☆PAIRING: Classmate! Mingi x Classmate! Yunho x Y/N

☆GENRE: smut, fluff (at the end) 18+

☆WARNINGS: threesome, smut, dicking down, anal, pet names (peach, pup, baby, love), moaning, swearing, dirty talk, size kink, stomach bulge kink, ect.

☆A/N: first time writing on tumblr😛 prolly more warnings idk.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional rustle of fabric. Yunho lay flat on his back, his head propped slightly on the pillow, his dark eyes fixed on you. His hands rested lightly on your waist as you straddled him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips.  

Behind you, Mingi’s presence was impossible to ignore. His breath brushed against the back of your neck, warm and steady, as his hands gently settled on your hips, framing you between them. The weight of his touch made your pulse race, and the teasing grin you caught in Yunho’s gaze only fueled the heat rising in your chest.  

Yunho's fingers flexed slightly against your sides, pulling you down just enough that you could feel the tension radiating from him. “You’re so quiet now,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement. “Not going shy on us, are you?”  

Before you could respond, Mingi’s low chuckle rumbled behind you, and his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Don’t let him get to you,” he said, his tone playful but edged with something deeper. “We’re just getting started.”  

Yunho’s lips moved against yours with a soft but commanding rhythm, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. The kiss deepened, drawing a quiet gasp from you, and the sound sent a shiver through him. His fingers flexed on your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed flush against him.  

Behind you, Mingi’s hands were everywhere—tracing your sides, brushing your hair aside so his lips could find the curve of your neck. Each press of his mouth was deliberate, a contrast to Yunho’s steady intensity. You tilted your head instinctively, giving him more access, and his low hum of approval vibrated against your skin.  

“You’re so perfect like this,” Mingi murmured, his voice soft but laced with heat. His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping just enough to make your breath hitch.  

Yunho pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching yours. “Look at you,” he said, his voice quiet but full of admiration. “Are you sure you’re ready for us?”  

The question hung in the air for a moment, the weight of their attention making your pulse race. You nodded, words escaping you, but the fire in their gazes made it clear they needed no further encouragement.  

Your breath caught as you looked between them, your heart pounding in your chest. Yunho’s steady gaze held you in place, his question lingering in your mind. Behind you, Mingi’s warm hands grounded you, his lips brushing against your neck like a silent reassurance.

“I’m ready,” you whispered, your voice soft but sure. Your hands settled on Yunho’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “I want this. I want… both of you.”

The moment hung in the air, electric and unspoken, before Yunho’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile. Behind you, Mingi chuckled low, the sound wrapping around you like a promise.

Before you knew it, both boys were already deep inside of you. Mingis cock was in your ass while Yunhos was in your slick cunt. They were both big.. way bigger and longer than you thought. Your moans went straight into their ears of how you took them, but they made their lengths fit.

They started thrusting at a fast pace, already knowing you could AND would take it no matter what. “Oh- oh fuck.. s- so full” you whine out not caring if the other dorms heard. “You can take it, peach.. fuck, so tight..” yunho grunts out as he pounds your pussy. 

“Good little slut.. such a g- good puppy, taking my cock in your fucking ass and yuns cock in your tiny little pussy..” mingi was more of a dirty talker.. he loved to whisper in your ear making you more whiny.. his fingers were rubbing your clit.

“Fuck, min.. i can see my dick pounding through her stomach” you tried to look down, as yoy were in doggy style between the two.. it was true. Yunhos length was showing through and it was so hot. “Oh shit!- g- gonna cum.. oh-“ you whine and pant, gripping the sheet. You all three came together… the mens cum dripped out of your precious cunt as they pulled out.

“Our puppy’s dripping our seed, hyung..”

The room was filled with the hushed whispers and the sound of ragged breaths as Yunho and Mingi watched you with hungry eyes. Yunho's arms reached out to you, his hands sliding over your body, igniting a shiver of pleasure. They werent done with you. They quickly switched positions.  Mingi laid on the bed, you hovered over his face. Yunho was sitting against the headboard.

“D- dont wanna crush you min..” you were always worried if you rode their face, you would suffocate them.. “you wont baby.. trust me.” Mingi kissed the inside of your thigh.. 

Next thing you knew, you were grinding on mingis face, his nose right against your throbbing clit and his tongue working against your sticky folds.. you couldn’t even take a breath before yunho started thrusting in your mouth, loving the way you fucking deep throated him.

“Oh~ oh peach.. our good little cockslut..” the older boy couldnt keep his moans in. as mingi was eating you out, he started jerking off.. his balls slapping against his own thighs as he guided you. You have never been so pleasantly fucked before. The room was filled with gags, whines, whimpering, and moans..

“Mmmn.. good.. fuckin’ pussy” mingi mumbled through eating you out.. you were gonna cum and you couldnt take yunho in your throat anymore. Tears filled your eyes

“Fuck. Love, you can take it.. such a big penis in your throat huh? S- so close too..” yunho moaned out

“Mng.. gonna cum..” you moaned out.. “p- ple..” you gagged again as yunho shot his load into your mouth. You came all over mingid face and into his mouth as he shot his white strings into his hand.

———————————————

“You were so good, peachy.. so good for me and min..” yunho held you ad the three of you bathed together.

“I- i love you guys..” you mumbled 

“We love you more pup.. youre ours now. Always and forever” mingi said as he kissed you and yunho

“Our pretty baby…”

[legalmente-loca]

Wet Dreams

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Dean dreams of you... And pie.

Word Count: 1,370

Tags/Warnings: +18, smut, food play.

Dean found himself sitting on a couch in the middle of a room in which the colors of the walls didn’t matter because in front of him he had you.

You were naked, your visible skin stood out and he could already feel its softness on his fingertips. He looked you up and down slowly, with interest. But he noticed that in front of each of your breasts and your pussy was a portion of cherry pie. He also didn’t care that it didn’t make sense because, again, it was about you, naked.

“Hey, beautiful.” His eyes never left your body and your exposed skin, clearly enjoying the view.

You smiled, one of those smiles that lights up the room, that cheers up the saddest person or makes flowers bloom in the desert, just how Dean would describe it. It was at that moment that he noticed that you had both hands behind your back, hiding something as you walked towards him.

“I did something to you.” You pulled out a peach pie, placing it in front of Dean, a portion already cut.

“Oh, wow.” He said with emotion. “Did you do this for me?

He reached out to grab the slice, but before he could even touch it, you slapped his hand and grabbed the slice before bringing it to his lips.

“Come on, have a bite.” You murmured seductively.

He took a bite, licking the tips of your fingers in the process. He chewed under your careful observation and you ran your hands up and down his arms. The pie seemed to have disappeared as if by magic.

“Now, I have other pies you can eat.” You smiled sideways as you brought a finger under his chin.

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down.

“I’m going to devour them, honey.”

He kept his hands on the armrests, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dying to touch you. You sat astride him, running your hands over his chest, which was bare. But now that he saw better, he was all naked. His cock was getting harder by the second, rising between them, and the chair he was sitting on became a bed.

You bit your bottom lip mischievously and gave him a push, causing him to lie down on the bed, the springs making noise under the sudden movement.

“Do you want me, Dean?”

“Of course I want you, darling.” He murmured without even thinking, moving his hands to your hips.

You brought your face closer to his, Dean looking down briefly at your lips. You weren’t wearing lipstick, but they were red as cherries. He could imagine himself nibbling on them endlessly to see how red they could get.

“I want you too.” You whispered before closing the space between the two of you and kissing him.

He took the opportunity to feel you with his hands, running them along your lower back and down your legs again, your skin being as soft and perfect as he knew it would be.

The kiss was passionate, almost desperate as you ran your hands down his arms. Dean moved his mouth away and then placed it on your neck, lightly nibbling and licking your skin as if you were a human pie.

“God, you’re so good, Dean.” You moaned, placing one hand on his chest while you moved the other to his member, vaguely stroking it. "So good."

He moaned lowly, moving his hands down to your ass and giving it a squeeze.

“Yes, come on, honey, be a good girl and put it in.”

You stood up slightly, lining him up towards your center. Dean noticed how the pie that rested in front of your pussy had a hole for his cock and watched in wonder as it passed perfectly, entering you slowly to feel each sensation intensely.

“Oh, fuck-” He searched your gaze, moving a hand to the back of your neck. “Yeah, go on, doll, you can do it.”

You sat up fully, letting out a low moan and resting your forehead on his. You quickly settled into a steady, desperate pace, as if you had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“That’s it, baby.” He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy it better.

He moved his hands to your lower back, caressing it with his thumbs as he moved his head away from yours, trailing his lips down your neck to one of your breasts, licking his lips at the pie in front of him and beginning to eat it.

“Oh, God, Dean.” You moaned, closing your eyes and stroking his hair as you continued to lean forward, practically bouncing on him.

But he continued eating, revealing your breast with each bite taken. His mouth was stained with remains of the pie just like your skin, the cherry around his mouth as he sank into you. Dean just couldn’t take it, he needed everything from you.

The moans of both filled the room plus the sounds that came from the union of their bodies. The touch of the cake around its base and the comforting warmth from your insides were enough to bring him closer to the limit much sooner than desired.

“Dean, Dean, Dean…” you repeated over and over again.

“Baby…” Starting to move his hips upwards and hugging you tighter as he let out a grunt.

“Dean… Dean… Hey, Dean!”

Dean raised his head suddenly, making you jump and moving your hand away from his shoulder that you were moving.

“Are you OK?” You asked, watching him carefully.

He looked around, realizing that he was in the library, sitting. He looked at himself and, unfortunately, he had clothes on. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

“I…” he returned his gaze to you and did not let the disappointment show on his face when he noticed that you were dressed. “Yes, I… I just closed my eyes for a moment.”

One side of his face still had the mark of his arm from sleeping on it and he could obviously feel that he was rock hard under his jeans. He shifted slightly in discomfort.

You had taken off your headphones to wake him up and Dean could hear the low sound of the music. Cherry Pie. A song that he himself had recommended to you some time ago, and he felt a tingle in his lower abdomen at the memory of the dream.

“Sure you’re okay?” You wanted to make sure. “You look a little… Taken aback.”

“I-I’m great.” He tried to smile and gave you a thumbs up.

“Okay…” You nodded your head slowly and sighed. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I did something for you.”

“Oh, yeah? For me?”

“Of course. I made you a pie.” You smiled.

Dean choked on his own saliva at that point and started coughing.

“Well, I think that’s a bit of an exaggerated reaction, don’t you think?” You tried to laugh, but something about his attitude was strange to you.

He cleared his throat and took a few moments to breathe before returning his attention to you.

“A pie.”

“Yep, a pie.”

“Like… A pie, pie?”

“As the only kind of pie that my knowledge reaches.” You raised an eyebrow. You didn’t know what was happening to him, maybe he had had a nightmare.

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll go in a moment.”

You stared at him carefully for a few seconds before nodding your head.

“I’ll be waiting for you.” You turned to leave.

“By the way, not that it matters, but… What flavor of pie is it?”

You turned around to look at him.

“Cherry.”

“Oh…”

“Come on, hurry up before it gets cold.” You left the room.

“Yes, would never miss it.” He muttered to himself.

He ran his hands over his face and shook his head.

“Son of a bitch…”

If Dean concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the taste of your pie in his mouth and the feel of your fingers on his lips.

He stood up and stretched, rattling some bones.

“Well… Time to eat.” He rubbed his hands and headed to the kitchen, where you were waiting for him with a smile and the cherry pie in front of you.

“Come on, have a bite.” You said with emotion, but Dean couldn’t stop remembering the dream and that he would do everything possible to replicate it.

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[senualothbrok]

A Perfect Storm

Summary: You and Gale give in to your passions, but there are some obstacles along the way.

Sequel to 'A Tight Fit' and 'A Generous Portion'. A reimagining of the Gale romance in Act 1 and Act 2, featuring nosy menaces Karlach and Astarion.

Word count: 5.6k

Disclaimers: Gale x female Tav/reader. NSFW. 18+. Smut. Oral sex. Vaginal penetration. Heavy petting. Light angst.

AO3 link

Beta: @dekariosclan, thank you so much, you are amazing and wonderful.

****

Peach juice gleams on Gale's beard, trickling down the thrust of his chin. He makes a slow sucking sound as it spills down the folds of your fingers. He pauses, his tongue darting over the bulge of his bottom lip, thick and wet. 

His eyes are full and black, sparking purple from the throbbing of his orb. You were not certain what that meant before. You have no doubts now.

He lets out a low moan as he bites down again.

The peach falls from your hand. He does not move. Neither do you. There is a moment when you simply stare at him, alight with the pulse of his desire, rippling with the slick fire spreading from your core. Entranced by the unmistakable swelling between his thighs. 

And then, you feast.

You fall on each other. A gush of peaches cascades across the ground. He laps and sucks at your fingers in a tumult of groans, as your tongue draws frenzied arcs over his soaked stubble, the honey of his skin. His hands are everywhere at once, weaving through your hair, grasping at your breasts, pressing your hips against his. You cannot get enough of him, pawing at his shoulders and his chest and his tousled waves, the bristled heat of his neck, the broad grooves of his back. When your mouths meet, you devour each other, ravenous for touch, scent, taste, anything, everything, more.

You are no longer aware of the open vista around you, the impending return of your companions. Nothing exists but Gale’s panting breaths, the velvet swirls of his tongue. His smouldering flesh against yours, crushing out all space between you, as it had been the first time, when there was no room for pretences and nowhere to hide. All that exists now is your desire, revealed and returned, at long last.

When your hand dips beneath his robe, his hips cant up to meet you. And when your fingers find what they seek, he shudders into the nook of your neck. It is no longer a memory, an ache that beset so many listless nights in your bedroll. You take hold of his hardness, hot and familiar. Searching fingers trail down the inside of your thigh, and you whimper as he rasps your name like a plea.

In the trance of your lust and longing, you do not notice the deepening flare of Gale’s chest. Blinding blades of indigo cut through Gale’s skin. As you move your hand along his length, he buckles into you. He lurches back with a cry. 

You freeze as Gale doubles over, clasping at his chest. Ebony-purple tendrils writhe on his neck like poisoned veins, his chest a searing brightness that hurts your eyes. 

“Gale, what's wrong? What's happening?”

He clenches his jaw, folding into himself. Choking breaths sputter out of him as he balls and unballs his fists. To see Gale deprived of speech is a unique brand of horror. You have no idea what to do.

“Do you need a magical artefact? A potion? Should I get–”

He jerks his head. You watch, terrified and helpless, as he extends a shaking palm. Wait. Please. Wait. His eyes wrench closed, his lips rippling as though in prayer. 

Is this what it was like for him, that year in his tower, before your paths had crossed? The thought of him alone and abandoned, trapped in these convulsions of torment, shoots through you like pain. 

You are not sure how long you sit there.  Gradually, excruciatingly, his breathing slows to a laboured rhythm. The orb dims to a lavender wash. Relief overwhelms you as he lifts his head.

“I'm alright,” he heaves. “I'm fine, Tav.”

“Are you sure you don't need–”

“I'm fine. It’s safe. The orb… it's safe now.”

You suddenly feel so foolish. So blind.

“I'm sorry, Gale. I'm so sorry.” 

“Whatever for?” His voice is broken, but still so tender. You could cry.

“All this time…I thought you were avoiding me because…”

You look away. He dips his head to chase your gaze. “Why?”

“Because you felt embarrassed. Because you didn't want me.”

He lets out a huff of disbelief. His gaze is urgent, so urgent, as he looks at you.

“Tav.” He moves closer. “I've wanted you since the day we got locked in that room. You're all I think about. All I dream of. I've never felt…”

He trails off. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, strained and uncertain.

“I've never met anyone like you,” he says finally.

You understand his struggle. You, too, cannot explain what it is between you. What you feel for him.

“Neither have I. I don't usually do this.” 

His crow's feet crinkle. “That makes two of us. I don't make a habit of throwing myself at people tongue first.” 

For an instant, you are lost in the memory of his tongue. He clears his throat. You tear your eyes away, fixing on the creases of your tunic. 

The orb remains, mercifully, faint.

When you look up again, he is studying you. He scratches at his beard, still damp from your earlier exertions. You can still taste him, and you still want more.

“I’ve always considered myself a disciplined man.” He grimaces. “Surprising, I know, because I just can't control myself around you. Even the threat of imminent destruction couldn’t keep me away.”

You swallow. This is new territory for you, too. You have never felt so desired, and you have never desired someone more. You cannot make sense of it.

“You should have told me,” you manage. “If I had known this was hurting you…”

“I think I had more pressing priorities than talking.” He pauses, chuckles. “I never thought I'd say that.”

Despite the circumstances, you laugh. “You do love talking.”

“There are things I love more.”

Your core tingles as you linger over the swell of his lips. The orb flickers as his eyes hover over your parted mouth. You wonder if you should pull away. He does not.

“I wanted to do things properly. Charm you with dazzling displays of wit. Conjure a canvas to rival your beauty. Dance with you beneath the stars.” 

Is that sorrow in his voice? Regret? He frowns, and in the shadows of his face, you think you see shame.

“If things were different… if we were home… I would give you everything you deserve.” 

It is not quite shock you feel, but you cannot fathom it. When Gale had told you about his past, his greatest mistake and his fall from grace, you had wondered at the fairness of his self-judgment. It did not sit well with you, the crushing burden of the blame he carried, as though the sin was his alone. For you, that guilt had always jarred against the proud veneer Gale projected - the bluster of a wizard of considerable acclaim, a scholar of exceptional accomplishment.

Now, you see him so clearly. The passion that drives him, the gentleness that sets him apart. The conviction that he will always fall short. 

You reach forward to cup his cheek. His breath catches, a mirror of your heart. You have touched before, drawn together by the whirlwind of your yearning, a surging, panting need. But this is different. 

“You already have.” 

His eyes ebb with surprise, doubt, something like fear. There are things you wish to say, but you do not know how. They go beyond the language of your bodies, into the recesses within you that no one else has stirred. 

But still, you try.

“Being with you… It’s everything.” 

He is speechless for a moment. When he looks at you, you know he sees. He smiles.

And as he kisses you, you realise it is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

****

“So, let me get this straight.” Karlach leans forward. “All those nights in Gale's tent, and you still haven't ridden that wizard’s staff?”

You rub at your temples. You already regret those extra glasses of red. Wine has always made you loose lipped.

Astarion smirks. “Come now, Tav. That tent lights up like a signal flare every time you go in. You must be doing something.”

You glare at them pathetically. You know they will not let this go, no matter how mortified you are. No matter how much you dig your heels in.

“We can't,” you sigh. 

Astarion arches an eyebrow. “Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Gale does leave a lot to be desired. Though I’d assumed there'd be spells for that sort of thing. Enlarge, for one–”

“No!” you splutter. “For the love of – No! There's nothing wrong with Gale's–” 

You catch the grin Astarion shoots at Karlach. Karlach gapes at you, expectant.

“It's his orb, alright? Not his… anatomy. We can't because of his orb.”

Karlach's eyes widen. “Are you saying that if Gale nuts, his orb will explode?”

You wince. “That's the worry, yes.”

“Gale’s cock could bring about the apocalypse.” Astarion chortles. “Who would have thought.”

You give Astarion a shove. “It's not funny.”

“Of course it isn't!” Karlach looks genuinely distressed. “You poor things. I can hear you two going at it sometimes–”

“Like a pair of clumsy teenagers,” Astarion pushes in. “You’d have to be deaf not to hear everything, by the way.”

Karlach scratches her head. “Seriously though. What are you guys doing in there? If you can't wet that wand–”

“For gods’ sake!” 

Astarion snickers. “Are you finding all his special places and kissing them better? Is he putting that mage hand to good use? Whispering sweet nothings into your–”

Your face burns. “Just use your imagination!” 

“Poor Gale.” Karlach blows out a breath. “He must have the biggest, bluest balls in all of Faerun.”

“And you must have the most swollen–”

“Right!” You leap to your feet, lunging away from the campfire. “I'm done! I'm not discussing Gale's balls, or my–”

You crash into Gale as you turn. He catches you, alarm and confusion flitting across his face as you squeeze his hand. Sorry, you signal with your eyes as you retreat. I'll make it up to you later.

“What did I miss?” you hear Gale ask behind you. You cringe at the delight in Astarion's voice.

“Oh Gale.” He titters ominously. “I'm so glad you asked.” 

****

“Oh, I get it.”

You chuckle as he wraps his arms around you from behind. Everything feels and smells like Gale - every nook and cranny of his study, plush and warm, every chime of the well-worn piano beside you. The teasing dance of hands around your waist, the tickle of his hair against your neck. The familiar scent of sandalwood and scrolls, indistinguishable as fantasy or flesh. Your fingers hover over the bookshelf before you.

“This is some kind of elaborate courting ritual, isn't it? You seduce me with kisses and honeyed words–”

“I seduced you?” Gale barks out a laugh. “I seem to recall that you were the one who touched my–”

“You whisk me away to your wizard’s tower, ply me with mood music, and then–”

“Excuse me, but you willingly accepted my invitation. No whisking was involved–”

“And then–”

“I might also remind you that technically, we haven’t left the boundaries of my tent, given that this is an illusion, though admittedly, a masterful one–”

You jostle him. He nibbles at your earlobe, and you bat him away half-heartedly.

“And then, you show me your personal, and very extensive, collection of porn.”

Gale titters as you gesture towards a cluster of tomes in the upper left corner.

“A gentleman can never be too well-read.”

“Clearly not.” You crane your neck. “‘Beauty and the Beast with Two Backs’. ‘Longsword of Love’. ‘The Wand of Wonder.’”

“Oh, that's a good one. The sequel was a poor imitation, though. ‘The Tiefling's Horn.’ Disappointing.”

“What a shame.” You squint. “‘Two Wenches, One Goblet’. What's that about?”

Gale opens his mouth, then promptly closes it. 

“Wait. Maybe don't answer that.” 

You laugh as you delve further. You remember that Gale has conjured all of these books from memory. You have no doubt that he recalls their content in exquisite detail.

“I wasn't sure whether you'd misplaced some of these. ‘Exploring the Underdark.’ ‘How to Tend Your Garden.’ ‘Studies of the Kraken.’”

Gale huffs. “I'm offended you'd think my library would be anything but impeccably arranged.”

“Ah.” You turn to face him, nuzzling into his neck. "Shall I beg for your forgiveness?”

His hands wander down your spine, over the small of your back. A violet shimmer fills the space between you. You have learned which shades you should flinch from, and which you should welcome. You cannot help but feel Gale's arousal as your own, after all. To see it displayed so clearly - it drives you wild.

“Tav,” he murmurs into your hair. “You could take a first edition of ‘Etheril’s Enchiridion of Enchanting Easements’ and burn it in a ritualistic bonfire, and I’d forgive you.”

You brush your lips over his jawline, running your thumb over the arc of his collarbone. You feel him tremble against you. 

“So you're saying I have you wrapped around my little finger.”

“Wrapped?” He tuts. “Bound and double knotted. Triple knotted, even. If you had an inkling of a desire for me to jump, I'd catapult myself to the other side of the Chionthar.”

“So…” You bite your lip. “You’d do anything I asked?”

His eyes are misted, lips curled in a sideways smile. “Within reason. But yes. There's very little I wouldn't do for you.”

You tilt your mouth to his. He opens to you without hesitation. A soft moan escapes him as he presses you against the bookshelf, enfolding you in his lavender haze.

“I’d do the same,” you whisper, before you melt into each other.

****

You stare up at the peak of your tent, flickering in the candlelight. Your bedroll feels foreign, the ground beneath you impossibly hard. You kick away your blanket with a grunt, abandoning the hope of sleep.

Should you go to him? After Elminister’s departure, you had made your feelings on Mystra's charge - and Mystra herself - abundantly clear. When you had sat with Gale, watching the sun set with his hand in yours, he had been uncharacteristically quiet. You had known, without him asking, that he needed space.

He had not been at dinner - a haphazard assortment of beans and fish heads which you were too preoccupied to taste. When you returned from a wash in the river, you thought you glimpsed the curve of his back sliding into his tent. You have not seen him since.

You imagine Gale, tossing and turning, wondering how long he has left. Sifting through his memories for triumph, and finding only despair. Convinced that his life has no meaning outside of his death. Standing at a precipice, alone.

You lunge up, darting through the slit of your tent.

He stands outside, features shadowed in the empty night. There is a weariness in his stooped frame, an exhaustion that he cannot conceal. But when your eyes meet, his face glows with unmistakable joy. He reaches for your hand.

“Come with me.”

****

“This was going to be a surprise.” 

You marvel at the illusion around you. The bed of lush grass beneath your toes, adorned with a

fine spray of daisies. The lilting forest canopy, framed by a boundless azure canvas bejewelled with stars. The sky glimmers with the most vivid shades of turquoise you have ever seen. 

In awe, you follow Gale to a clearing, where a velvet rug awaits, soft and welcoming. A billowing bouquet of peonies rests beside a basket of peaches, two glasses and a bottle of Gulthmeran Reserve. All your favourites.

You are at a loss. 

“I've been trying to make it perfect, or as close to perfect I can get, in the circumstances. It's not quite finished, but…” 

He looks down, grimacing. 

“Well, there's no time like the present.”

You step forward, resting your hands on his chest. “This is incredible, Gale. It is perfect. Beyond perfect.”

He shakes his head. “I wish I could give you more. There's so much more I would give you, if only we had time.” 

His eyes are shining. You realise that he is holding back tears. You cup his face in your hands.

“You've given me more than I've ever dreamed of. More than I could ever imagine.”

He is silent for a moment. Through the storm of your emotions, you watch the quiver of his lip, the spasm of his brow. He gestures towards the rug, arrayed with all the gifts he has prepared for you. You sit beside him, caressing the petals of a scarlet peony, rolling a honey-ripe peach around in your palm. He smiles as he watches you, a smile that puts the stars to shame.

“All of this,” you breathe. “How did you know–”

“Tav.” He chuckles, mock-chiding. “You should know by now that I'm a keen observer and a meticulous scholar, especially when you're the subject matter.”

You are not sure why you suddenly feel shy. You fiddle with his collar, the chestnut curls around his neck. He draws you closer, his legs bracketing you, the tip of his nose tingling over yours. 

“No one has ever done anything like this for me.” 

It is difficult for you to understand it. The things Gale has done, the feelings he has professed. You struggle to explain the magnitude of them all. The miracle of him.

“Then I'll do everything in my power to make up for their shortcomings.”

You stare at him for a long time. Without warning, a tear slides down your cheek. He catches it with his thumb, stilled by the admission, the implication. Your hands find his as he plants a slow, searing kiss on your forehead. In his touch, there is the warmth of home. 

“Do you remember when you said you'd do anything I asked you?” 

“Of course.” He nods. “I said what I meant.”

You know it is a risk. You know the consequences of what you are about to say. But you cannot stay silent, not after all you have been through together. Not after all you have discovered about the man he is, everything he has become to you. You cannot abide it.

“What if I asked you to trust me? To trust that we can find another way?” 

He hesitates. The lines on his face deepen, his eyes darkening.

“You don't have to die, Gale. We can fight the Absolute together.”

He jerks his head. “Tav…”

You clasp his hands against your heart. “I'm asking you to trust me. Someone who knows you. Someone who… cares deeply for you. You don't deserve this. You don't need her forgiveness. You don't have to die.”

“Tav.” His chest heaves. “What you're asking…”

“I'm asking you to live.” 

It comes out as a plea, though you had not meant it as such. It is your beating heart, held out before him - the truth laid bare, without reservation or fear. You cannot run from it any longer.

“I love you, Gale.”

The words are everything, yet not enough. Perhaps love cannot capture the hunger you feel for him, frantic and insatiable, the desperate ache that possesses you whenever he is near. The candle he has lit inside you, illuminating the world with a wonder you have never known. A steady tide, washing over everything within and around you, making all things new.

A thousand feelings stream across his features as a comet soars through the sky. And as he surges forward, clutching you against him like a lifeline, you recognise the promise that is sealed between your skin.

“I love you too.”

His tongue is tender at first, almost reverent as it slides against yours. Your mouths move slowly, savouring each other like the richest banquet, the finest wine. But when his hands roam under your robe to palm your breasts, when your fingers weave under his waistband to grasp his need, all is lost.

You had imagined this, the minute Elminster calmed the orb. The implications had been immediately clear to you. But all that had fallen to the wayside in the face of Gale's suffering and grief. Now, as Gale’s chest flares to the rhythm of his juddering breaths, you are unleashed. 

Suddenly, all you want is his skin on yours. He tears your robe off with a ferocity that makes you whimper. You wrench his tunic off, shoving his breeches and briefs down in a frenzy. He rolls his tongue around your nipple, sucking it roughly into his mouth. As you arch into him, you tighten your grip around his shaft. He gasps, digging into your ass as you begin to pump.

“Wait,” you think you hear. But he is lapping wet whirls on your areola, parting your soaked panties to find your fire. You can feel the veins twitching on his girth as his fingers flutter into your cleft. You grind into his hand with a whine. 

When he draws back abruptly, your first instinct is to check the orb. Before, that indigo blaze would have been a warning. But Gale's eyes are wide with desire, not clenched with pain.

With a low murmur, he flicks his wrist. A crackle of blue thread bends in the air. He rises, lifting you up into his arms. 

“A gesture towards your comfort.” 

You gape at the four poster bed that has appeared behind you, its violet canopy and silk sheets. You look back at Gale, incredulous. 

“Are you telling me that all this time, you've had this in your back pocket, and we've been messing around in your bedroll?” 

Gale dips his head, half amused, half sheepish. His hands meander down your curves, distracted, insistent. You lean into his touch.

“Maintaining an illusion like this requires concentration. Concentration I was devoting to making sure the orb didn't take out a small city every time you and I were having a…particularly heated interchange.”

“I see.” 

You run your fingers over the scar of the orb, sunken into Gale's skin. It pulses, cold as metal in winter. Tentatively, you bend down to dart your tongue over its edges, lingering over the bruise in its centre. You can taste the static as Gale sucks in a breath.

“And you won't have a problem maintaining concentration now?” 

His voice is strained, but his eyes glint. “I won't now.”

You gasp as he pulls you onto the bed, his cock stiff against your belly as you straddle him. You wet your lips as you skim his beaded head with your thumb. His head falls between your breasts as he shivers violently against you.

“That remains to be seen.”

When you slide off his lap, he makes a muffled sound, reaching for you. You hold his gaze as you roll his briefs and breeches down and off, caressing the exquisite muscles of his thighs, the arcs of his strong calves. As you settle between his legs, the smell of his sweat and arousal fills your senses, heady as a drug. Gale tenses in anticipation as you look up, his length twitching against your cheek. 

He swallows.

You plunge his cock into your mouth. His back bows as he bites back a whine, the bed quaking beneath you. He is hard, so hard, and the warm silk of his shaft glides against your tongue like butter. You ache with a throbbing, swelling fire at the slick sounds of him sliding in and out of you, stretching you wide as you take him deeper and deeper. You want nothing more than to gorge yourself on him.

“Gods above…Tav… Gods…”

You are wild with the sounds of Gale's pleasure as he writhes to the rhythm of your mouth. You move faster, firmer, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on his girth. Spit spills down your chin and neck, and you keen as his cock thrusts against the back of your throat. You can feel the bud of your desire thrumming against your folds, bursting for release. 

“Gods, you're incredible…that feels incredible…Tav…. ”

Arousal trickles down your thigh as you hum in approval. He is surging, impossibly stiff against your flurrying tongue. Tears prickle at your eyes as you continue to pump, losing yourself to his pleasure. 

“Tav.” He clutches for you, frantic. 

The tightness of his grip stills you. You slow for an instant to look at him. His brow is twisted, his hair mussed and cheeks flushed. The orb pulses like a heartbeat. A sheen of sweat ripples on his abdomen, glittering on the damp down of his skin. His beauty is maddening. Dizzying.

He springs up, pinning you beneath him. Your eyes roll back at the force of his weight grinding down into you, the stark demand of him. His hair is a tousled curtain around your faces, his chest rubbing against your nipples as you pant. 

“Did you not like it?” Your hips cant up, desperate for more of him. 

“I loved it. Too much, in fact,” he rasps. “I didn't want this evening to come to a premature end.”

You can feel his cock, steely and determined as it nestles into you. Your flesh burns in every place he touches. His musk is a haze, blurring every boundary, making you one. You are struggling to think, to speak.

“How considerate,” you manage.

“I'm nothing if not thoughtful.” 

He begins at your neck – that secret nook just below your ear. A discovery he had made on one of the first nights, when you had come undone beneath his hungry mouth, a mewling mass of nerves. He has remembered ever since. 

He rolls his tongue across your skin, teasing it between his plush lips. You shiver as he licks a tantalising trail of kisses down your collarbone, between your breasts, around your navel. He hums as he peels off your panties, drenched with your arousal. Your legs quiver as he spreads you wide, firm fingers edging into the sensitive flesh of your thighs. You whine at the wet sound of your folds opening to him, the hot puffs of his words over your bulging clit.

“You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this.” His voice is low and hoarse. Ravenous.

“I have some idea.”

You can barely breathe. The smirk on his lips sends a shudder through you.

“You have no idea.”

You let out a needy cry as he drags his tongue through your folds. He tastes you slowly, painstakingly, savouring every inch and corner of you. With every messy swipe, every moan that spurts from him, your back arches, your thighs lifting higher as Gale pushes into you, devouring you like a man starved.

“Gods,” he murmurs, and you think you might explode at the flick of his tongue on your clit. “You taste like heaven.”

You have no words, only a whimper. You will not last. Every fibre of your being condenses into the throbbing ache under his tongue. As he begins to draw small, swift circles around your fire, sparks spasm up your spine, spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes. His groans vibrate against your swollen centre, his nails digging into your thighs. His beard chafes against your flesh with a friction that gathers like a flaming coil inside you. You clench at the sheets, your toes curling with mounting ecstasy.

“Gale…Gods… Gale, I’m going to–”

He hums again. Even in the midst of your unravelling, you can hear his appreciation, his pride at having uncovered another mystery, another key to your undoing. His eager, plump lips close around your desire, his tongue flat and snug against you. He sucks at your clit with a loud, slapping sound, and you throw your head back as your last nerve snaps.

Blinding pleasure jolts through you in waves, shattering your every sense and thought. Incoherent sounds tumble out of you, your hips jerking frenetically as Gale continues to feast. He does not stop, even as you keen and bend beneath him, even as your climax erupts from you in bursts of sweet release. You have never come so quickly or so hard.

Overwhelmed by sensation, frenzied from it, you twitch and flinch, thighs clamping around his head  as he holds you down. You cannot take any more. As you lurch up onto your elbows, his eyes meet yours, fully dilated, drunk with bliss. You reach for him helplessly. 

“Gale,” you plead. “Come here. Please.”

He lingers, lapping up your delight in long, sloppy stripes, greedy for every last drop of you. When he rises, you can see streaks of your slickness glistening on his beard and chin. You tremble as he licks his lips. 

You lunge for him, wild with want. Your mouths meet again in their furious dance, your taste thick on his tongue. You are closer than you have ever been, your bodies flush against each other, the sweat on his skin mingling with your own. He presses your arms down above your head, his fingers entwining with yours as you groan into each other. 

“I need you.” Your hips roll against his, his cock jostling against your folds. It is anguish, your yearning to be filled by him, to be eaten whole. “I need you inside me. Please.”

You do not need to ask twice. You can feel the pounding of Gale’s heart, the billow of lust in his dark eyes. There is no more reserve, no trace of deliberation. When your legs part to welcome him, he makes a sound you have never heard before, all gentleness lost in the urge to consume you. He notches himself at your entrance, coating himself with your slick. With one rough thrust, he sheathes himself inside you, and you almost scream from the delicious drag of his cock against your aching walls.

“Gods,” he pants. “Tav…Gods… you feel…Tav….”

Your calves clench around his waist as he plunges into you, an erratic, gasping rhythm of wet, slapping skin. You flutter around his girth as he drives into you again and again, splitting you open then filling you to bursting. He releases your hands to cup your cheek, crushing his forehead against yours, and you cannot catch the words that stream from his lips, only his raw and wanton need. Your fingers fist into his tangled waves as you pull him closer. 

“Gale.” Your entire being quakes beneath him, for him. “I love you.”

His brow steeples as he clasps your face, eyes shimmering with awe and exertion. He kisses you like it is his last night alive, taking what is left of your breath away.  The world around you swirls into a purple storm as he pumps faster and faster, hips snapping with dizzying force. Your head rolls back, your eyes shuttering in rapture as he thrusts into the deepest parts of you over and over again. 

“Tav.” His thumb pushes into your moaning mouth. “Look at me.”

You obey. As your tongue twists around his questing finger, you look at him with all the love and longing within you, every inch of you that cannot get enough of him. His eyes are bright as summer earth, his lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. You can feel the tremors through his muscles, the convulsions of his gut, as he nears the peak of his climax. 

“I love you,” he whispers.

The orb flashes like an eruption of stars, the bed flickering in a chaos of colours. For an instant, you are floating in a lavender sea, drifting in the abyss of the night. With a final, keening stroke, he spills himself inside you. You whimper against each other, writhing through the aftershocks, a convulsion of shared breath and flesh. And as you lie on the bed he has made for you, with his arms around you and his warmth inside you, you wonder how you will ever part from him again.

****

You are curled on his chest, tracing the peaks and valleys of his body, studying the fine dust of hair over his flushed skin. His touch roams, tender and earnest, mapping the topography of your being, every dip and dune of your drowsy, sated flesh. Cocooned in him, cloaked in a passion that goes far beyond need, you feel a peace you have never felt before. You know, in an inexplicable way, that he feels it too.

He huffs, that quiet laugh you have come to love so much. You draw back to look at him. 

“What?”

He smiles, rubbing his nose against yours.  “Nothing. Just thinking. Marvelling, really.”

His lips graze your forehead as he pulls you close again. You nestle into him with a contented hum.

“At what?”

He chuckles, drawing languid circles over your hip bone, the curves of your thigh, the dimples on your back. 

“The miracle of serendipity that brought you into my life. What fortune, what divine calculus, what wondrous confluence of circumstances…”

You pause, drinking in the joy that radiates in every lilt of his speech, every dance of his features. The love that burns in every part of him, pure as sunlight, fierce as life.

“A perfect storm.”

Gale stares at you. The grin that bursts on his face thrums with pride, a glee that would be ridiculous were it not so endearing. You laugh through the sprinkling of kisses that he peppers all over your face, a whirlwind of affection that floods your heart. 

“My love,” he sighs, as his lips find yours. “I couldn't have said it better.”

********

A/N: Not wanting to blue-ball everyone after 'A Generous Portion', I decided to write a conclusion to this saga - but what I didn't realise was that I was going to end up rewriting the whole of Gale's romance in Act 1 and Act 2...

This is what I imagine happened if instead of the Weave scene, Gale and Tav were locked in a room together.

I tried to stay true to the canon as much as I could, with the orb, call backs, Elminster's visit and such. Most of all I wanted to capture a romance with Gale that begins with an explosion of passion / physical attraction, and then deepens into love.

I hope you enjoyed it! I am forever grateful for your support, and as always, would love to hear your thoughts and comments <3

Liked this fic? Check out my other work

[bloodmaarked]

in search of the perfect peach: why flour holds the answer to fixing our food system // franco fubini

first published: 2024 [to be released 19 september] read: 26 august 2024 - 28 august 2024 pages: 224 format: e-book [ARC]

genres: non-fiction; food; gardening; environmentalism favourite character(s): n/a least favourite character(s): n/a

rating: 🌕🌕🌗🌑🌑 thoughts: i have a lot of thoughts on this book. unexpectedly so, because when i asked for an ARC after spotting the lovely cover and intriguing title on a NetGalley newsletter, i thought it would be a quick, informative read on something outside of my comfort zone and not much more than that - just a chance to learn something new. but for me, in search of the perfect peach ended up irking me much more than i expected. part learning resource, farming guide, memoir, and investor pitch, my greatest issue with the book is that it didn't seem to know who it was being written for, or for what purpose.

having read only the introduction, i was intrigued by franco's key concepts - that the food system has been "broken" in the post-war era due to the introduction of supermarkets that have prioritised yield and profits from fruit and veg, at the expense of flavour, quality and nutrition. the author's understanding of this largely comes from his experience running a food distribution company called Natoora - fine, but in the introduction he began lauding his company too much to the point where i felt he was trying to plug it to me. unfortunately, that was something that kept jumping out at me throughout the book and took me away from what should have been the main point. i'm not entirely convinced this book isn't a not-so-subtle advert for his company.

as i moved through the chapters, i began getting frustrated in a different sense. within the first third of the book, i had gotten my head around the main message - supermarkets deprioritised flavour and we need to bring the focus back to that. this had been told to me, rather repetitively. absolutely nothing wrong with the message, but once i was this far into the book what i wanted was some practical tips for how a person like me can begin to follow his ethos. there was some discussion on eating in line with the seasons; not seeking out peaches in the middle of winter, so to speak. but there was a lot of information to wrap my head around. it seems that it's not just about eating seasonally, but you have to know that different varieties will be available at various times, and you have to understand that each variety has an early, peak, and late season (EPL). perhaps it's just me, but i feel like for someone who is not used to eating seasonally at all, it felt a bit like "where do i start?" there's not actually much practical advice on offer. so i suppose the solution is to head to google and figure it out yourself. at this point, i started wondering whether i was not the target audience and whether this book is better suited for someone who works in the food industry (like a chef or a restauranteur) who might be able to grasp these concepts with less guidance.

this was a recurring pain point; there was a frustrating lack of practical ways to implement change as an everyday consumer. franco's main advice was just to seek flavour, but how? from his viewpoint, it's an impossible feat to find flavour (i.e. quality produce) in a regular supermarket. so what are the alternatives? where do we go? farmers' markets, perhaps? or directly to Natoora? (i honestly am not sure where else you would go.) however, the author then brings up other complexities, such as you can never tell whether produce has been farmed responsibly using healthy soil. or that you can't assume local produce is going to be better. so it felt like there was no clear starting point for learning to change one's habits without hitting some type of pitfall.

in one of the last few chapters we finally get some solid(ish?) advice - that we should simply pay more money for better quality produce. while there is a passing remark that maybe some people can't afford this change, he also comments that you should be willing to divert your funds away from other things in your life, like your hobbies, to afford more expensive and better quality fruit and veg. um. it felt very dismissive. but also misguided. the majority of people rely on accessible and affordable supermarkets like ASDA (which he takes a shot at) to get by. the idea that large-scale change needs to come about as a result of change at the food industry level, but also while heavily relying on the few who can afford to shell out more for food doing so, doesn't make sense. it feels like the change needs to be top-down - from supermarkets, food suppliers, farmers, restaurant chains, etc. which then begs the question of whether the little advice given to us in this book is that impactful.

i feel like by the end i hadn't gotten much from this, and that this book was not truly directed at the everyday consumer. i do think that this was better aimed at those within the food industry, and, i suppose, the minority who can afford to make significant changes in their buying habits (and given the types of clients he and his company work with, i feel like this was probably the case). as a book for this group, perhaps it worked fine. for readers not in the know, i think the whole thing probably needed some reworking. the one thing i did get from this was eating seasonally, and that's something i will have to do much more research on on my own to get to grips with making what is a fairly big change in eating habits.

if you are someone who fits into the category for whom this book might work, by all means, give it a read. if not, but you are interested in eating consciously and sustainably, i suspect there may be better resources out there than in search of the perfect peach.

massive thanks to Chelsea Green Publishing and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced digital copy in exchange for an honest review!

[freedomfireflies]

Whiplash*

Summary: The second part to Knockout*

The one where Harry does something dangerous in the shadows, and he'll do anything to keep you out of it.

Word Count: 9.4k (again...so sorry)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, slight blood kink, slight pain kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

There’s no protocol for what to do when a handsome stranger you hardly know (but occasionally fool around with), stops showing up at your diner. 

You stare at his booth for far longer than you should. Willing him to appear. To walk through the door and make things right. Ease this ache in your chest.

You have no way to contact him. You don’t know his last name, or his phone number, or his address. You don’t even know his license plate number. He’s a ghost to you. More than a stranger but less than a friend.

You give him a few more minutes to appear. Maybe there was traffic. Or maybe he forgot you were working tonight.

But soon, a few minutes turns into an hour, and booth 505 remains empty.

So, you put the idea of him to bed. Carrying on with your shift while wearing your heavy heart on your sleeve. Perhaps he’s gotten bored with you. Or perhaps he’s found other ways to occupy his nights.

You almost think you’d prefer this alternative to the other. The one where he’s not here because he’s not…here. That wherever he goes and whatever he does has finally caught up to him.

It makes your stomach wrench to imagine, and you forcibly shove the thought free before returning your attention to your newest pie.

Peach. Another one of Harry’s favorites.

3 a.m. has never felt so liberating. Bringing you the perfect escape as you clock out and rush through the doors for the parking lot. Eager to rid yourself of this wretched night and head back to your apartment to worry about your stranger in peace.

You step out into the cold morning air and pull your jacket a bit tighter around your frame. Exhaling a shaky breath that you can see dance across the dimly lit space.

There are only two other cars over by the right side of the building, and much to your continued dismay, you notice that Harry’s still isn’t one of them. 

So, with a sinking stomach, you reach into your pocket for your apartment keys, and begin walking for the subway. Yet right as round the corner of the diner, you notice something move within the shadows just beside you.

With a jump, you gasp, and spin around on your heel with your keys raised and aimed at the ready.

The figure that emerges sends your heart straight into your throat.

“Harry?” You drop your arm and move closer for a better look. “What…what…?”

The battered and bruised man offers you a tired smile that hardly reaches his lips. “Hi, Cherry.”

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. There’s a nasty slash going down his left eyebrow, a dark bruise forming along his jaw, and blood dripping down his arm from beneath his sleeve onto the pavement below.

You search for the right words – for any words at all – but before you can, he’s stumbling forward. Just barely able to catch himself before he collapses onto the ground.

With another gasp, you surge forward, quickly taking hold of his shoulders in order to keep him upright. “Harry—”

“M’okay,” he murmurs, and you can hardly hear him. As if he barely has the strength to speak. “I’m fine. I promise—”

“Harry,” you repeat for a third time, almost incredulously. “You…this is not fine. You’re…what happened?”

Even before he shakes his head, you know he won’t truly answer. “Nothing. S’just a little worse this time, but I’m okay. Really.”

You feel sick. Sick that he’s so hurt, sick that you can’t help him, and sick because you don’t understand who does this to him. “Okay, we…we need to get you to a hospital, we need to get you some help—”

“No.” His head shakes again, a bit more insistently. “No, I can’t go to a hospital. I just…I had to see you.”

You feel your throat constrict. “What?”

His hand lifts, palm finding your jaw until he can softly caress your cheek. And you feel a streak of blood smear across your skin from where his thumb brushes at your chin. 

“I had to see you,” he repeats softly. “Had to make sure you were all right. M’so sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

You want to bury yourself in his arms. Want to kiss him, and hold him, and fix him. Make everything better again.

“It’s okay,” you nearly whimper. Pushing yourself into his touch. “I’m just really worried about you.”

The smirk grows. “I’m all right. I’ll go home, take some pain pills, and be right as rain by tomorrow. Really.”

 You’re hardly convinced. “Harry—"

“I’m all right,” he insists, dipping down to press his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to worry about me, Cher. S’not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. I’ll be okay. I just wanted to see you.”

And you don’t believe him. You don’t even think he believes him. But he smiles at you as though he wants to. As though he wants to offer you any sort of consolation for his pain. To make this better…for you.

You allow him to hold you a moment longer before you pull back and declare, “I’ll help.”

His brows pinch together. “What?”

“I’ll help. I’ll go with you. Make sure you’re okay, and…and help you clean up.”

His expression softens, but he sighs heavily. “Baby, I can’t…I can’t ask you to do that—”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“I know, s’just…” He holds your cheeks in both hands now. Keeping you in his sights. “I made a rule with myself. A promise that I wouldn’t drag you down with me. That I’d make sure you were okay, and that you’d never hurt because of me.”

The pit in your stomach deepens, but you merely straighten up. “How could this hurt me? I just want to help.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he breathes. “But letting you come with me means breaking my rule. And I can’t do that. I won’t.”

You wonder what he means. You wonder if you really want to know.

“Then you come with me,” you decide. “You can come back to my apartment, and I can make sure you’re all right.”

Another heavy exhale, but you can tell he’s touched. “Cherry—”

“I mean it. You’re not…Harry, I’m really worried about you. You can hardly stand and you’re bleeding from more places than one. You could have really hurt yourself and you shouldn’t be alone. I won’t let you be alone right now.”

He considers this. “Cherry, I’m trying to protect you—”

“And I’m trying to protect you, too,” you argue firmly, but with a persuasive grin. “Please let me.”

There’s a long lull of silence, those gentle green eyes studying you closely. He looks so very tired and wrought with grief. Yet when he sees you…his entire world seems to change. Lighting up about as bright as the moon.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Okay, we’ll go. I trust you.”

I trust you. Three little words that have never sounded so good and you can’t help but push up onto your toes to kiss him as gingerly as you can.

“Okay, where’s your car?” you ask, letting go in order to look around. “My apartment isn't too far, so I can drive until we—”

“No.”

“What?”

He squeezes onto your wrist almost pointedly. “No, we can’t…can’t take my car. S’not safe.”

“Oh…” Your lashes flutter. “All right. We…we can take the subway. I was going to take it anyway because a friend of mine is borrowing my car for the night, but…that can work. We can make that work.”

He says nothing, instead swaying a bit from the loss of blood as you rush to take hold of him once more.

“All right, okay. You’re okay,” you murmur softly. “Just hold on, okay? It’s only a few stops to my place, and we’ll be there in under twenty minutes.”

He nods weakly in response, and you’re quick to pull his arm around your shoulders in order to help guide him through the parking lot.

He seems grateful for this hold on you. Smirking to himself before leaning over to press his lips to your temple. Keeping you tight against his chest as though the two of you are merely going for a stroll in the park. 

Like a real couple.

You cling to his stained hoodie and help lead him toward the subway station. Making sure that you don’t walk too fast (or too slow) in order to get him there in one piece.

You don’t talk much – although there’s so much you want to say – but you can tell he’s pleased. Grateful to be in your company, even despite the circumstances. 

Once the train arrives, you both slip through the doors, and take a seat near the exit. You push your shoulder into his and he pushes his shoulder into yours. Leaning against each other almost contently and smiling to yourselves as the rest of the crowd saunters on.

The subway is relatively empty for this time of night. Or rather, early morning. And you’re more than all right with that. It means less people to stare at the bloody, bruised man dripping onto the train floor. 

He doesn’t notice the odd looks. He doesn’t seem to notice anything but you, instead staring down at where your fingers are tracing his. The way they run tenderly over the cracked skin across his knuckles before intertwining together.

He hums contently, lips stretching into a gentle grin.

You’re at your stop only fifteen minutes later, practically leaping onto your feet in a rush to get him out.

He seems to have a bit more energy now, perhaps from being able to rest for as long as he did. But he still holds onto you as tightly as he can while you walk along the sidewalk.

And you can’t help but let him.

“My apartment might be a little messy,” you attempt to preface as you head inside the tall building. “I was going to clean it before I left, but something…came up.”

He nods understandingly before glancing over the side of your profile. “Are you all right?”

“Am I all right?” you tease, gesturing toward him.

He smirks, but that curious look doesn’t slip. “Are you?”

You press the elevator button with one hand and squeeze his palm in the other. “I will be once you are.”

Apartment 505 is on the left side of the building, just beside the stairwell. It gives you a perfect view of the city, and you spend most of your days out on the stairwell watching the sun rise and set.

There’s a wreath on your door, hanging just over the number, and your stranger smiles when he sees it. Seemingly amused by the bright flowers and dainty bow that stands out amidst the dark grey paint.

After fumbling with your keys, you finally manage to get you both inside. Exhaling a deep breath and tossing your things toward the coffee table.

“Lock it,” he murmurs just as you’re moving for the kitchen.

“What?”

“The door. Lock it,” he says, almost firmly while nodding toward the handle. “Right now.”

A tad surprised by the resolute tone of voice, you nod, and turn around to oblige. Making sure the lock is turned and the door is secure before glancing over for his approval.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. “I want you to always lock it when you come in, all right? Always.”

“Okay,” you agree softly, returning to him. “I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, raising your hand to his face to press a kiss to his cheek. “Can you let me take care of you now?”

He seems to chuckle as he allows you to stroke his jaw. Settling into your gentle touch before nodding.

Pleased, you take his hand, and lead him toward your small bathroom. Sitting him on the edge of the bathtub in order to get a better look.

But the moment you see each cut and scrape beneath the bright, fluorescent light, there’s a hitch in your breath. Overwhelming you with sorrow and anguish at the sight of him. 

“Harry,” you exhale, almost unintentionally. 

His lashes flutter as he smiles, reaching out to lightly tug on your waitressing dress. “M’okay, Cherry. Really.”

He’s not okay, and you both know it. “I’ll…I’ll need to clean them first. Where…how many are there?”

A beat while he thinks. “There’s a couple on my chest. Plus, the one on my eye, and, you know, my hands.”

You nod, and vaguely gesture toward him, willing yourself not to shake. “Can…may I take off your hoodie? So I can check?”

The corner of his mouth curls up and he nods as well, reaching for the collar of his sweatshirt in order to begin peeling it off his torso.

You attempt to help, making sure he can get his arms through without having to bend too far or cause any strain to the injuries.

But once it’s off, you feel your stomach twist.

 His skin is littered with scars, scrapes, and fresh bruises. A variety of colors that range from light pink to an unsettling yellow. Blood is smeared across tattoos you didn’t even know he had, and there’s a rather nasty gash along the side of his ribcage. 

You hear yourself gasp, and he quickly tugs on your hem again. “Cher—”

However, you brush his hand away and move closer, running the tips of your fingers along his shoulder and down his sternum. Trailing each inch of stained skin until you reach his heart.

“Harry…” you say again.

He takes hold of your wrist and offers you a look of remorse. “I know.”

You aren’t sure you have the strength to ask, instead swallowing thickly as you pull back, and turn around. Searching through your cupboards for everything you’ll need.

He watches you closely, and it seems your reaction causes him more pain than anything else. It’s a look you know well. One where he’s desperate to comfort you, and you wish you could let him.

You rejoin his side with bandages, rubbing alcohol, and a sterilized needle with thread. “All right, I have to clean them first, and then…”

His eyes flick down to the suturing supplies with a smirk. “Ah.”

You grimace. “It’ll probably hurt.”

To your surprise, he shrugs. “No worse than what gave me the cut, I imagine.”

You hum to yourself and move for the alcohol. “And this might sting.”

“Mm. I’m counting on it.”

Dipping a cloth into the potent liquid, you begin to dab at each open cut that’s painted along his body. Making sure to be as gentle as you can and avoid any potential infections.

He tenses every few moments, jaw ticking as he takes steady, even breaths. But he makes no noise of complaint, nor does he flinch away from your touch. Almost leaning into it as you move between each scratch.

“How’s that?” you whisper, glancing over his face curiously before moving for the cut on his brow. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, red-rimmed eyes trained on you. Seeming to study you while you study his injury. “M’okay. Are you?”

You smile. “Yeah. Don’t like hurting you, though.”

“You’re not. Could never.”

“Hope you’re right.”

You smooth back the dark hairs of his eyebrow as gingerly as you can before reaching for the medical tape. Cutting the strips to the right length, you place a couple over the cut, and step back to observe.

“All right,” you declare. “Now, um…now I’ll need to…”

You both look toward his stomach where the worst gash lies, and he nods. “Where do you want me?”

“Just…there. Is fine.” You collect the needle and thread before crouching down near him in order to get closer. “It shouldn’t take too long. Be over before you know it.”

“All right.” He’s oddly calm, and for some reason, it makes you nervous. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been stitched, Cherry. I’ll be all right.”

 “I can see that,” you mumble to yourself, reaching now for his abdomen. “Just…tell me if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

With a deep breath, you pinch his skin between your fingers, and bring the tip of the needle closer. Piercing the skin and threading it through slowly and with great precision.

He looks down, watching for a moment almost as though fascinated. “You’re really good at that.”

You offer a tight-lipped smile. “Should hope so. Spent three years learning how to do it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. My, uh…my parents really wanted me to pursue a career in the medical field,” you explain as you continue working your way down. “And I thought being a nurse would be good because I liked the idea of helping people. And I liked learning about the body and how to heal it.”

His eyes remain on you.

“Anyway, it didn’t…I didn’t have a great experience in medical school,” you continue. “And it made me realize that it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. I wanted to…help people through food, I guess. Which probably sounds silly—”

“No,” he says, almost immediately. “No, it doesn’t.”

You smile a bit bigger. “Well, my parents were pretty pissed when I dropped out. Which makes sense, since they were the ones paying for it. But…they told me that if I wanted to pursue baking, I’d have to do that on my own. Financially, anyway. Hence all the late shifts at the diner.”

His brows furrow together almost sternly.

“And I don’t mind it. I really like working there. I like my coworkers, I like the people I meet.” You pause now and brave a glance up. “And I really like that it brought me to you.”

There’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart skip. “M’glad it brought you to me, too.”

You chew on the inside of your lip to suppress a rather giddy grin before returning your focus to the wound. “All right, your turn.”

“My turn?”

You nod your chin toward his injured body. “Why do you keep letting this happen?”

He sighs, and his stomach tenses with the strained breath. He wears the same look he wears each time you ask, and you already know he’s searching for the right way to deflect the question. 

“I don’t know.”

You expected nothing less, yet tonight, you insist upon the truth. Scooting closer as you glance up almost pleadingly. “Where do you go? Who does this to you?”

He hesitates. “Cher—”

“I won’t judge you. I’d never judge you, but this isn’t…Harry, this is really scary. And I want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Another heavy pause as you continue the suture. He contemplates his response, the small bathroom filling with a tense sort of energy. You wonder if the truth hurts him more than the scars.

“I…fight,” he finally says, and you feel your pulse stutter. “I get paid to fight. Three nights a week.”

And even though you’d already begun to assume that was the case, you feel the blood drain from your face. “Harry…”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs quickly, reaching out to brush his thumb along your cheek. “I’m okay.”

You want to argue, but you bite your tongue. Zeroing in your focus on your hands.

“I like it,’ he continues. “Don’t know why, but there’s just…there’s this rush, you know? This adrenaline. Makes me feel alive to be so close to death, I guess.”

You hum quietly, features pulling together in a wince. 

“S’about the only thing I’m good at, too,” he adds with a wry chuckle. “And all I have to do is win.”

Your head lifts. “This doesn’t look like a win.”

“Yeah, well. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

And despite his attempt at humor, you look back down, lashes fluttering.

It’s quiet for another long lull before he says, “It’s how I met you.”

You choose to keep your eyes downcast on the needle this time, but your ears perk up.

“One of the guys I work with said your desserts were the best he’d ever had. Said he used to go there all the time, for every fucking meal.”

You pull the thread though his stained skin and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

But his story is undeterred. “And I always get kind of a sugar craving after a fight, so I thought I’d go. And then…you.”

You remember the night vividly. The sight of him, hands wrapped in gauze, eyes dark and inquisitive, that familiar hoodie pulled over his head.

He was mysterious and strange, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

You have been ever since.

“And he was right,” Harry whispers now, tucking his finger beneath your chin until he can see you. “Never had anything as sweet as you.”

Your heart returns to your throat, and there’s a sort of longing in your stomach that can’t be tamped. You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry, so you merely release a soft sigh and finish closing the wound.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” you ask of him again. “Really?”

He runs his tongue over his cracked lip. “Sometimes.”

“And would they let you leave? If you wanted to?”

The silence is deafening. 

His thumb moves to your mouth, brushing over the pink fibers that part for him. “Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to find out.”

It’s not a perfect answer. But it’s the one you choose to cling to, reaching up to squeeze his wrist in desperation.

You suppose this explains more than you realized. Why he won’t tell you who he really is. Why he won’t let you into his world. Why he insists on keeping you safe.

But it only makes this new reality that much heavier.

“Just make me a promise, okay?” you exhale. “Promise me that you’ll be all right. That you’ll stay safe. That you won’t…”

The unspoken word carries a weight that nearly crushes you, and he seems to understand as he squeezes your chin.

“That you’ll always come back,” you finish.

“I promise,” he says, even if you both know it’s not a promise he can make. “Always.”

You kiss him. Quickly and without pause, surging forward until your mouth meets his. You take his lips between your own, careful to mind the cut while remembering just how much he enjoys the sting.

Instantly, his hand curls around the back of your neck, tugging you as close as he can get you. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing, and soft grunts that reverberate all the way down to your chest.

“Careful,” you gasp, attempting to pull back when he guides you between his legs. “Your cut—”

“Don’t care,” he whispers, bringing you back to nip at your bottom lip. “Don’t fucking care.”

You whimper against him, hands resting delicately on his chest. “Har—”

“I know. Just missed you. Really missed you, sweet girl.”

He tugs you between his thighs and you allow yourself to be moved. Melting into his touch as he uses his height advantage to fully take control of you. In more ways than one. 

Desperate pants fill the tiny bathroom, and you can’t help but feel undone by him. Already feeling a certain throbbing in the pit of your stomach that can’t be tamed by anything else but him.

“Harry,” you try again, moving your hands to his hair. Carding your fingers through his matted, bloody curls. “Please…”

And then…you feel it. Rather, you feel him. Hard and prominent, pressing right up against you. 

You gasp, and he rests his forehead against yours. Cursing to himself when you nudge yourself forward.

And that’s when you realize. 

“Does pain turn you on?”

There’s a quick pause before he nods once. Trailing his lips along your cheek and toward your throat.

Your head spins. “Really?”

Another motion of his head. “It’s not really pain when it’s you.”

Breathlessly, you drop your touch to his lap, palming him through his dark jeans while he groans again and buries his nose in your neck. Inhaling you deeply while bracing himself against your knelt frame.

“Think it’s my turn now,” you say. “My turn to be good.”

The grip on your neck tightens, and you can feel him release a warm exhale against your collarbone before he’s kissing just below your ear.

Then, he shakes his head, and mumbles, “No.”

You stop, fingers freezing over the bulge between his thighs. “What?”

“No,” he repeats gently. “S’not about me. Wanna make this about you.”

You lean back just far enough to catch his eye. “But—”

“There are a lot of things I’ll never be able to give you. Or do for you,” he explains gingerly. “But I can do this. I want to do this, sweet girl. Wanna give you the fucking world because it’s what you deserve.”

You consider this for only a moment before settling on the floor. “Har…”

His head shakes once more. Thumb stroking the curve of your jaw while tilting your eyes up. “Never be able to tell you how beautiful you are. I don’t…I can’t even understand it. You’re perfect, Cherry. So fucking perfect, and I will spend the rest of my life wanting to be near you.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. One that nearly knocks the wind from your lungs as you gaze at him.

“Wanting to taste you…” he continues, dipping down to brush his nose against yours. “Feel you…touch you. You…are the best goddamn thing I will ever have.”

You whimper, pushing yourself closer until he finally kisses you. “Then let me…”

But he merely smiles. “One day, sweet girl. I promise.”

You want to push. You almost want to insist that he let you take his cock into your mouth, but the look on his face is resolute. Decisive. You aren’t changing his mind, at least not tonight.

And you decide that maybe it’s for the better. His body needs to rest in order to heal, and perhaps any extra strain would hurt him or rip the stitching.

So, you oblige. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

With a chuckle, he kisses you again. “Good girl.”

The kisses grow more frantic. About as frantic as before, and you have to physically yank yourself out of his grasp in order to calm yourself down.

“No,” you say this time as you stand. “No, you need to lay down. And rest. Okay? Give your body time to heal. And get better.”

He watches you go, but he’s unconvinced, already looping an arm around your hips to pull you back. “This is how I get better.”

And even though you’re concerned for his health, you can’t deny the pulsing between your thighs. “Harry—”

“You make me better,” he says, trailing his lips along your arms, all the way down to your palms. “Always. Fucking always—”

You whine beneath a strained breath, your other hand dropping to his head as you tug on his hair.

In turn, he moans against you, and your knees about buckle. “Let me get better…please…”

And it’s almost like he doesn’t realize he’s said it. A subconscious thought that’s whispered against your skin until it becomes one with your bloodstream.

“Want to,” you say. “I want to, but you need to rest. I need you to rest, Har.”

“I am,” he tries to argue, glancing up through those thick lashes of his. “This is me resting.”

“Harry—”

“Please,” he nearly groans again, pressing his nose into your stomach. “God, please, Cher. Please. M’so fucking lost on you, I can’t…I need…”

He told you once that you’re like a drug to him. That he goes through withdrawals if you’re not near. If he’s gone too long without you.

And, truthfully, you feel about the same. Feeling strung-out and shaky without his touch. Even the sound of his voice. It’s borderline pathetic, yet you don’t ever want to be rid of him.

“You need to rest,” you repeat, although you’re losing conviction. “I want to, but I can’t…I’m worried. You shouldn’t move, you should rest.”

The air becomes charged as he looks back up. “Then ride my face.”

You hesitate. “What?”

“Ride my face,” he says again, practically groaning the instruction. “S’easy, right? Won’t have to move. I’ll just hold you, yeah?”

You feel the heat rush into your cheeks as you blink down at him. “I…you’re already hurt. I don’t want to suffocate you, too—”

“God, suffocate me,” he sighs, grabbing onto the backs of your thighs. Squeezing the flesh in his strong, battered hands pleadingly. “You’d never hurt me, baby, ever. S’all I fucking want. Don’t want anything else but you. Only you. All of you. Want you everywhere.”

And you believe him. You do. But the idea of…and being that close…

“What…but what if it’s too much?” you murmur. “What if I’m too…—”

“Never.” A firm shake of his head. “Fucking never. You would never be too much. Believe me. Tasting you is the only good thing in my life.”

There’s a catch in your throat that you swallow down. “I just…I’ve never…”

His expression softens. Thumbs brushing at your exposed skin before squeezing once more. “It’s okay. S’okay, sweet girl, really. Don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t have to do anything at all. But…I promise you…you could never do anything wrong. Ever. You breathe and you’re perfect.”

And he’s so honest. So good. You know he means it, know he’d never lie about something like this. And you do trust him. More than anything. Trust that he’d never judge you or want anything more from you than what you’re willing to give.

“If you say no, then it’s no,” he adds gently. “End of. Promise.”

But that’s not your problem. You’d happily do anything and everything with him. But you’re worried about his injuries and all the blood he’s already lost. Granted, his suggestion would perhaps be the best alternative, but…

“Fine,” you whisper, squeezing his curls in your fist. “Okay. But you need to be very careful and very still. And if it starts to hurt, we stop. Okay?”

There’s a wicked gleam in his eye. One you recognize all too well, yet it merely makes your pulse jump.

“Okay,” he agrees, almost mischievously. “Deal. Just lead the way.”

You bite back a whimper before glancing toward his knuckles. “I need wrap your hands first—”

“No,” he interjects. “No, leave ‘em. Just for right now. Wanna see them when I hold you.”

And there’s something about the idea that leaves you breathless, making your nails curl into his scalp as if to drag him closer. “Are you sure—”

“Yes.” He tugs on the hem of your dress again, almost as though trying to rip it off. “Yes, m’sure. Please, Cher…”

And you have no choice but to oblige.

You reach down, take his hand, and pull him onto his feet. Quickly and impatiently leading him out of the bathroom and down the hall to your room before pushing the door open and bringing him inside.

He only takes a moment to look around, eyebrows raised while a smile plays at his lips. He studies the array of artwork you have displayed, the baby blue paint on your walls, and the plethora of pillows that sit near your headboard. He seems…enchanted, almost, and it makes you giddy.

“S’cute,” he decides, offering his smirk to you. “Very cute. Very you.”

“Thanks,” you reply anxiously, already looping your arms around his neck in order to yank him back down. “Please?”

He chuckles against your lips before dropping his hands to your waist, nodding once, and pushing you back. “Do you trust me, baby? Trust me to take care of you?”

“Yes,” you answer instantaneously. “Yes, always.”

“Yeah? Know I’ll take care of you?”

“Yes.”

He drops you onto the bed before chasing after you. Lips on your cheek, your neck, your chest. Fingers playing with the buttons on your chest before he whispers, “Can I take this off, sweet girl?”

You motion your head almost frantically, leaning back to give him room.

He undoes your dress and slips it over your head in a matter of seconds. Leaving you in nothing but your underwear as he tosses it toward the floor before surging forward to kiss you again.

He’s seen you before. Seen your chest, your stomach, your thighs. But never in the privacy of your own home, and the way he seems to look at you now feels as though it changes everything. Like he’s looking at you for the very first time.

“Baby,” he breathes, pulling your lip between his teeth before groaning. “God…s’fucking cruel you have to hide this behind such a hideous dress.”

You grin against his mouth, scooting back in order to make space for him. “Then maybe you should come around and take it off more often.”

He likes this idea, chuckling to himself before grabbing hold of your hips, and flipping over onto his back. Effectively pulling you with him until you’re straddling his waist.

With a gasp, you glance down to his newly stitched cut, quickly inspecting in order to make sure nothing has been ripped or pulled. “Harry, you can’t—”

“Shh,” he coos, pulling on the back of your neck to bring you down again. Nose nudging with yours. “M’okay. I’ll tell you, yeah?”

“But—”

“I’m all right,” he insists quietly. “Promise. Just need you.”

You swallow the rest of your complaints, allowing your body to be pulled into his before he’s moving both hands to your naked thighs. Stroking along the tender, soft flesh and kneading it tenderly.

“Think you’re ready, baby?” he whispers. “Hm? Gonna let me have a taste?”

And even if you’re somewhat apprehensive, the lust that swims within the bottom of your stomach makes you whimper. Urging you to say, “Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”

“Good girl,” he hums, gliding his palms toward your ass before patting it once. “Up you go.”

You imagine you seem somewhat terrified, but his look of encouragement goes straight to your cunt. Encouraging you up his body until you can place your knees on either side of his head.

“Good,” he breathes, eyes already gluing to your panties. “So good, baby. Can you hold onto me? Hold onto my hair? And tug it if it’s too much?”

You nod weakly and drop your fingers to his curls. Brushing them gently while he smiles, lashes fluttering.

“Good girl,” he says again, and it makes you clench around nothing. “M’gonna pull you down now, okay? Don’t worry about anything. Just let me make you feel good. Promise I’ll be all right.”

You whimper beneath a deep breath before nodding again and allowing him to guide you down to his face.

You feel the tip of his nose ghost across the edge of your panties, right near your clit. And you can help but buck up, gasping as you squirm away from the stimulating touch.

But his hold on you is unrelenting, tightening when he feels you twitch before yanking you back into position.

“Uh-uh, sweet girl, none of that,” he warns softly, mouth dancing down your covered cunt. Tauntingly. Deviously. “M’just having some fun, yeah? Gonna let me have fun with such a pretty pussy?”

When you don’t answer, he gently smacks his hand against the side of your thigh.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, gathering his curls in your fist. “Yes, I…I will.”

“Mm. Good. Cause m’having so much fun with you, Cher. You know that? Always have fun getting to play with what’s mine.”

This possession sends chills down your spine and your chest heaves from the way he flattens his tongue against your underwear before dragging it down.

He seems to bask in your whines, moaning against your cunt before curling his fingers into your skin. Forcing you down even further until you’re nearly sat on his mouth.

His technique is sinful. Just enough to tease you and leave you wanting more. Effortlessly casting out any doubts or hesitation as you begin to settle in his hold, permitting him to keep you against his tongue until he sighs contently.

“Fucking killing me, baby,” he says, lifting you up in order to reach for the soft material against your pussy and drag it to the side. “Ready, sweet girl?”

You nod quickly.

“Promise to tug me if it’s too much or you want to stop?”

“Yes…yes, Har, please—”

“I know,” he shushes. “Just so well behaved for me, aren’t you? Hold still for me, all right?”

You go to nod again, but before you can, his lips are meeting your clit. Pressing the most innocent of kisses to the sensitive nerves until you choke on his name and yank his curls.

He seems to realize this aggression has more to do with the pleasure than the pain, and you can practically feel him smirk into your cunt before he does it again. Over and over and over, making your eyes roll back and your throat run dry with desperate pants and whimpers.

Then…he sucks. Takes your clit into his mouth before flattening his tongue and dragging it through.

You’ve never felt this kind of stimulation. This kind of overwhelming pleasure that goes directly to your toes.

Sure, he’s eaten you out before, but he’s never been this…close. He’s devouring you from the inside out. Forcing you against his mouth as though his life depends on it. 

The hold on your hip is unforgiving, and you’re almost sure you’ll see remnants of him on your skin tomorrow. The tips of his fingers tattooing to your waist and marking you as his forevermore. 

You aren’t sure what to do with yourself. Overcome with lust and infatuation for the man between your thighs. The way he expertly slides his lips through your folds, drowning in you.

The tip of his tongue teases your hole, and you feel him groan at the way your pussy flutters from the slight intrusion. And the vibration of his greed makes your hands tighten in his hair. Nail scraping so hard down his scalp, you’re sure you’ll draw blood.

But he loves it. Seems to thrive off it. Going in a bit further before dragging your arousal up to your clit and flicking.

Then, he swallows you down.

“Harry,” you gasp, and you wish you could see him. Wish more than anything that you could gaze down at his face and watch while he does this to you. 

He always tends to get a sort of mesmeric look in his eye when he’s making you cum. Almost like he’s in a trance. Hypnotized by your body, drunk off the way he’s making you feel.

You imagine that’s about how he looks now, and you’d give anything to see those beautiful, hazy eyes just once.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, pulling away just long enough to speak. “You’re okay, yeah?”

You nod quickly. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay. I promise—please…”

He understands your request perhaps better than anyone and smiles to himself before going back in. It’s far too easy to unravel you, it seems. All he has to do is suck, and flick, and slide his mouth along your dripping pussy, and you’re done for. Already nearing release before he’s even really begun.

He senses this, and instantly goes harder. Faster. Tongue fucking into your clenching hole relentlessly until you cry out his name…and let go.

You hardly have time to register what’s happening or warn him of your impending orgasm. Nor do you have the time to remove yourself from him before accidently crushing him between your thighs and beneath your weight.

Yet through every second, he holds on. Keeps you exactly where you were, stuck in his hold, glued to his tongue. Until every drop of your cum belongs to him.

“Har…Harry,” you pant, uncurling your fingers from his hair. “Okay, it’s okay…I came, I—”

“I know,” he mumbles, leaving another kiss to your clit. “And you’re gonna do it again.”

It’s resolute. He leaves no room for bargaining or questioning before he’s going back in. Quick flicks of his tongue through your pussy until you feel breathless.

It’s sloppy. Everything about it is sloppy and wet. The sounds, his technique. The way he makes out with your cunt as though it’s the best thing he’s ever had. And, truthfully, you imagine he believes it is.

He repeats the movement of his tongue along the overstimulated nerves until you begin to shake. Never letting up, even when you begin to whine rather pitifully. Instead, he squeezes your waist, and keeps you close. Makes sure you take every second of this blissful affliction until you cum for a second time. 

The moment you do, he readjusts his hold on your panties in order to slip a finger inside. Forcing you up onto your knees so he can nip at your clit and fuck his finger into you with a newly determined fervor.

“Harry,” you cry out again, moving one hand to your headboard to brace yourself. “Can’t…can’t—”

“You’re all right,” he hums, the tip of his nose pressing hard into your skin. “You’re all right, sweet girl. Just want one more, okay?”

 And you believe him. You do believe you’re all right, even if the painful pleasure he’s dragging you into nearly kills you. Making your legs shake and your lungs heave.

You want to give him another. You want to give him all of your orgasms, forever. And he knows this, so he adds a second finger, and pumps you mercilessly.

The sound echoes through your room, loud and lewd. But it intertwines beautifully with his soft murmurs of encouragement: 

“Good, baby, just like that. Fucking squeezin’ me, aren’t you? Hm? S’it feel good? Feel so good to ride my face?”

You can’t answer. Want to. Can’t. Skin growing hot as sweat beads at your hairline. Muscles burning, aching, crying out for reprieve.

But all you really feel…is him.

“One more, come on,” he urges, increasing the speed of his tongue and his thrusts. “Can feel how close you are, sweet girl. Know you want to, yeah?”

You whimper softly, body tensing with the impending release.

“Yeah? I know. Know you’re so close. Bet it hurts, doesn’t it? S’just too much for this sweet little pussy, hm?”

He curls those long digits into your cunt until you moan, thighs trembling beside his head as you attempt to keep yourself upright. “Har, please—”

“What? What do you need?”

Everything, all of it, whatever it takes. You aren’t even sure, you just need…more.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg. Kissing and sucking into the tender skin while his fingers continue to encourage you closer. 

“Just taste so good, don’t you?” He trails his lips back toward your cunt. Lazily mouthing at your clit as if to torture you. “Get so wet for me. S’precious. So fucking precious.”

He uses his fingers to spread you open. Exhaling against your dripping cunt until you begin to squirm. Writhing away from the sensation while he does it again.

“Mm-mm,” he tuts, pulling you closer. “Told you no, sweet girl. Said I could play with you, so I am. Thought you were behaving for me?”

He exploits your need to please him. To obey and win his approval, and it nearly drives you mad.

“Know it’s a lot, baby,” he coos next, slipping back inside and curling. “Know you’re all sensitive. Not used to being so overstimulated, are you?”

He’s right, you’re not. Apart from him, nobody else has ever really taken the time.

“Makes me wonder,” he continues gently. “Wonder how you touch yourself…here in this very room.”

He pulls your clit between his teeth and tugs until you gasp.

“Tell me, Cherry. Tell me how you touch yourself when I’m not around.”

Your mind goes blank. Darkening around the edges while you suck in quick pants for air.

“Tell me,” he repeats, coarse and riddled with an insatiable hunger. “Tell me what you think about. D’you think about me, baby? Think about how good you look on my tongue?”

You find just enough strength to nod as you squeeze his curls and whimper out your agreement. 

“Yeah? Go on, tell me.”

Your mouth drops open, yet nothing else comes out. Save for a plethora of pathetic whines and anxious mewling.

He seems to laugh, the low sound sending goosebumps across the back of your neck. “What’s the matter, Cher? Pussy got your tongue?”

You can hardly acknowledge the joke as you go reeling forward, just barely able to catch yourself against the headboard before collapsing. “You…you,” you finally groan. “Always you, Harry. Always.”

“Me?” You can hear the faux fascination. “You think about me, baby? What do you think about?”

What don’t you think about? “Your…your fingers,” you stammer. “And…and your mouth.”

“Yeah? Good girl. What else?”

You’re too close to think straight, already falling victim to your orgasm before it’s even found you. “You…your…your…”

“S’okay, baby, come on. Tell me.”

You swallow thickly and will yourself to speak. “Think…think about taking you. About how you’d feel. How you’d…be.”

“How I’d be, hm?” The hand on your hip tightens almost possessively. “How would you want me to be? How would you want me to fuck you?”

 An array of positions flash through your mind. The echoing of his groans and pants in your ear as he fucks you. The way he’d hold onto your leg and push it into the bed. The way he’d pull your hair and demand you take him. That you behave, be good. 

There’s something about him, you realize. Something about his dominance that makes you feel safe. Seen and cared for.

You want him to tell you what to do. Want to give him full control of your body and mind. Make your decisions for you so you don’t have to wrestle with them yourself. You trust him. Trust that he’d always put you first.

“Any way you want,” you finally answer. “Any…any way. Hard…slow…fast…deep. Just wanna be good for you.”

The noise he makes against your pussy is animistic. Virile and obsessed, and his mouth reattaches to your clit almost like a reward. 

“Good,” he nearly growls. “Know you would be. Know you’d be fucking perfect, yeah? Let me stretch this sweet, little pussy anyway I’d like?”

 “Yes. Yes, Harry, please—”

“Just take it, wouldn’t you? Take me so well?” He yanks you down so hard, you wonder if he can even breathe. Truthfully, you don’t think he cares either way. “What else do you think about, sweet girl? Think about me tying you up?”

You nod zealously, sneaking a glance at the headboard almost as though to recreate your fantasy. 

“Yeah? What else? Would you want me to spank you?” He follows this inquiry up with a quick – albeit gentle – slap to your outer thigh. “S’that what you want?”

“Harry—”

“What about your pretty, little throat, hm? D’you want me to hold it in my hand? Squeeze it till you see stars?”

The thought sends you into a frenzy. Stomach flipping in on itself until you’re clenching so hard around his fingers, you’re surprised they don’t break.

“Yeah? Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, slowly and almost inconspicuously sneaking a third digit into play. Filling you exactly the way you need. “My dirty little Cherry just wants to be taken care of, doesn’t she?”

You have nothing more to offer him. No more noises, no more whines, no more pleas. Your throat has gone dry, and your body is trembling almost violently.

He grins. “Then I’ll always take care of what’s mine.”

You’re not sure what does it. If it’s the way he strokes his fingers into that sweet spot in your cunt, the way he skims his tongue against your clit, or if it’s his promise. 

But no matter the cause, your third orgasm overwhelms you. Pulls you down into the deepest part of your pleasure before ripping you apart. Seam by seam.

He swallows every second of it. Attempting to drag the stimulation on for as long as he can before you have to psychically take yourself away in order to breathe. 

“Okay, okay,” you whimper, returning to the bed just beside him. “Can’t…I can’t…”

“Okay,” he agrees in a soft, soothing tone. Quicky reaching out to press his hand to your cheek while his thumb brushes at your heated skin. “Okay, we’re done. Did so good for me.”

Your lashes flutter as your vision slowly returns, and when you see him, you about moan.

During his ravaging of your pussy, the cut on his lip reopened, and now, blood is smeared across his mouth and chin. Glistening from his skin right beside the remnants of you.

You don’t imagine you’ve ever seen something so erotic. You also never imagined you’d find it so appealing, and yet the way it looks painted across his sharp jaw and swollen lips…

You surge forward and kiss him. So hard and so fast, you imagine you’ve made him dizzy. 

Instantly, his palm is pressing to the back of your head. Keeping you against his mouth while slowly pulling you back into his embrace. And he holds you against his chest while moaning something that sounds a lot like, “Fucking hell.”

 You kiss until the sun comes up. The soft, warm beams of light slipping through your curtains, setting the whole room – and your tired bodies – aglow. 

His mouth moves to your neck. “You still with me, baby?”

You smile. “Always.”

“Good.” He leaves one, final kiss. “And you’re feeling all right?”

“Mhm. Are you?”

“Oh, I’m more than all right, sweet girl. M’fucking perfect.”

He guides back onto his chest. Limbs tangling together as he puts your body between his legs until he can hold you properly. Even despite your fussing over his injuries.

But it’s not until you’ve begun to settle that you feel it. “Harry?” you whisper softly.

“Mm?”

“…did you cum?”

He smiles before pressing his lips to your forehead. “Yeah.”

“But I didn’t…I mean I didn’t get to—"

“You just have that effect on me, Cher,” he murmurs, snaking his arms a bit tighter around your frame. “Told you. Making you feel good is all I want.”

You glance up, expression wounded. “Why won’t you let me help? I thought…I mean, you keep saying you want me to, but you never…you won’t let me.”

The bedroom falls silent as he considers this. The sage green in his eye melting into something golden from the reflection of the sunrise.

He reaches out and brushes his thumb across your mouth. Seeming to clean you of the blood that smeared when you kissed.

“I didn’t want this to be about me,” he finally says. “I never do.”

You merely frown. “But I want to do it. Do you not…I mean, do you think I can’t or something?”

A soft chuckle. “Oh, I know you can. Know you’d use this pretty little mouth just right, yeah?”

You nod.

“Yeah.” He squeezes your chin. “I meant what I said. One day. There are a lot of things I want to do with you. Be for you. But right now, I can’t…I’m not in a place where I can offer them to you. Not with…everything else going on.”

Your stomach sinks as you realize. You might not understand the complexities of his job or his life, but you do understand his concern. And you trust that he doesn’t make this decision lightly. 

“Besides,” he adds coyly, “they kind of have a rule about it.”

“Oh, do they?”

“Yeah. Something about reduced testosterone and decreased aggression. I don’t know, s’probably bullshit.” A nonchalant shrug. “Just means I get to keep the focus on you. Which is all I really want, anyway.”

“I can tell,” you tease, reaching up to brush your nose against his. “Why is that?”

“Because you’re perfect.” He says it so easily. As though it needs no thought. “Baby, you have no fucking idea how beautiful you are. Touching you is the closest I will ever get to heaven.”

You wonder how he does that. How he always manages to say exactly what you need to hear. And make you believe it. Every time.

You kiss him again, but it’s slow. Soft and gentle and full of an unspoken emotion that nearly overwhelms you. 

You fall asleep against his heart. His lips in your hair, your fingers on his chest. And for the next few hours, you dream of nothing but him.

By the time you wake, it’s nearly afternoon. Your muscles are sore and your body aches from the decisions and positions of the night before. 

But it’s a good sort of pain. The kind that reminds you of how willing you are to do it again.

You’re both quiet as you stir, and it’s comfortable. As though you’re used to waking up together. Exchanging nothing more than smiles and a hoarse, “Morning.”

After offering him some cereal, you ask if he’d like to take a shower. Maybe change into something else before you take him back to the diner so he can retrieve his car and you can pick up yours from your friend.

He politely declines, but he does agree to your stipulation that you check his wounds before you leave. He even stands perfectly still while you assess each cut and stitch in order to make sure everything is still in place.

Which to your surprise, it is.

Once you’ve gathered your things, you exit your apartment (after locking it as previously instructed), and head for the subway station.

It’s almost strange to see him in the light of day. He’s still as effortlessly striking as before, if not perhaps more. His skin looks a bit more tan, and his hair seems softer in the sun. But he walks with a kind of confidence you almost envy, slinging his arm around your shoulders just like the night before. This time, out of possession.

And you grin the whole way there.

It feels normal. Feels good. Natural. Like it was always meant to be. You and him. Always.

Your heart begins to sink with each step closer you get to the diner. You cling to his hoodie as though it physically hurts to say goodbye. And in turn, he pulls you in tighter to his heart, as if refusing to let you.

“I’ll walk you in,” he murmurs once you reach the parking lot, and you nod gratefully. Already taking in a deep breath as you prepare to watch him leave.

You see your car near the front of the diner, signaling that your friend is here to drop off the keys. And you almost feel nervous because you aren’t sure how to explain Harry. Or if you even need to explain him at all. 

If he’d want you to.

A part of you wants to protect him from everybody else. From their prying eyes and inquisitive questions. From their haughty, judgmental stares and this idea that they know who he really is.

Instead, you take his hand in yours, and squeeze. Offering him one last smile to hold you over until you see him again.

Which you can only hope will be soon.

He pushes the door open and leads you inside. Loosening his grip on you almost regretfully while your heart sinks down into your toes.

But the moment you both step beneath the light, he stops. Suddenly and with a strained inhale as fingers retighten around yours, halting you in place.

Concerned, you glance over the side of his face rather curiously before following his eyeline further into the diner.  

And that’s when you see him. 

“Hey, thanks again for letting me borrow your car,” your friend says, sliding off one of the barstools in order to hand you your keys. “I really appreciate it. It was a huge help.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” you murmur before looking back to the tense man beside you. “Uh…this is my friend, Jesse. And Jesse, this is—”

“Harry,” Jesse says for you, lips curling up almost knowingly before he’s nodding once. 

Now even more confused, your head tilts while Harry’s skin instantly pales, his jaw clenching as his grip on your hand gets stronger.

But despite your muddled expression, Jesse merely chuckles to himself and steps forward, dragging his eyes from you to the tall stranger holding you.

“I see you finally found my girl.”

EEEEE I AM HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN

Next Part:

~ Reckless*

Previous Part:

~ Knockout*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgff@myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @mitochondrialeva-blog1 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @rainycowbride @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @dylanobandposts21 @cherryshouse

[deargojou]

【 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 (𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘) 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒 】

You felt a sharp smack on your ass as you stood at the kitchen counter making your morning coffee. Nearly sloshing your creamer all over the place, you turned and gave Gojo an exasperated look.

“Really?” you sighed.

He stood there, grinning unapologetically. “I can’t help it! Your butt is just so cute and round, like a little peach.” To emphasize his point, he gave your ass another hearty squeeze.

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop a small chuckle from escaping. Gojo had always found enjoyment when it came to grabbing your rear end. Ever since you started dating, he took immense joy in smacking, squeezing, or groping your ass at any given opportunity.

At first, it flustered and embarrassed you. But now, after nearly a year together, you were used to his playful antics.

Mostly, you found it endearing―when he wasn’t going overboard, that is.

After doctoring up your coffee, you crossed to the small kitchen table and sat down to enjoy your breakfast. Gojo’s long fingers immediately crept under the back of your chair, finding and pinching your ass. You jumped, nearly choking on your coffee.

“Satoru!” you scolded.

He laughed, clearly delighting in having caught you off guard. “Sorry, baby~ I just can’t resist! Your butt is so tempting.”

You fixed him with your best withering look, which only made him grin wider. With a dramatic sigh, you went back to sipping your coffee and reading the news on your phone.

After cleaning up from breakfast, you decided to be productive and tidy up the living room. You began dusting the shelves and surfaces, pointedly ignoring Gojo sitting on the couch behind you.

You were bent over wiping down the TV stand when you felt a sharp smack on your ass. You stood up swiftly, whirling around to face your snickering boyfriend.

“Satoru! Enough already!” you huffed.

“Sorry, I just couldn't stop myself,” he claimed innocently. “You were bent over right in front of me, it was too perfect to pass up.”

Despite your exasperation, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “You are terrible.”

Gojo grinned, completely unrepentant. He patted his knee in an invitation. “Come here and sit with me.”

You eyed him warily. “So you can grope my butt some more?”

“Maybe,” he smirked. Still, you found yourself settling onto his lap. His arms wrapped around you as you leaned into his chest.

“You know, I just love you so much, I can’t keep my hands off you,” Gojo murmured into your hair.

“Of course I know that. And I don’t really mind. Just maybe tone it down a little in public, please?”

Gojo let out a chuckle, “I’ll try, but no promises. Your butt is just too glorious not to be appreciated whenever possible.”

To emphasize his point, his hand drifted down to squeeze your ass again. You yelped in surprise, then dissolved into giggles.

After a lazy morning cuddling on the couch, you stood up and announced you were going to take a shower. As you walked away, you paused and looked over your shoulder.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned, seeing him poised to strike.

He put his hands up innocently. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

You narrowed your eyes but continued to the bathroom. You took your time enjoying a long, hot shower, allowing the water to soothe away any tension. After toweling off, you slid into comfy housewear.

Walking back out into the living room toweling your hair dry, you didn’t see Gojo. You breathed a small sigh of relief, glad to have a reprieve from his antics.

You padded into the kitchen in search of a snack. Humming to yourself, you bent down to rifle through the fridge.

Suddenly, you felt two large hands squeeze your ass enthusiastically. You shrieked in surprise, bumping your head on the fridge shelf. Spinning around, you saw Gojo doubled over in laughter.

“Satoru! You scared me!” you scolded, though you were fighting back laughter yourself.

“I’m sorry! I couldn't resist with you bent over like that,” Gojo claimed between snickers.

You swatted his chest with the towel still in your hand. “That’s it, no more Ms. Nice Girlfriend. I’m going to get you back for this!”

“Oh, really? I’d like to see you try.”

You fixed him with your best menacing look. Though inside, you were turning over ideas for how to give him a taste of his own medicine.

The perfect opportunity arose that evening. You and Gojo were settling into bed after a lazy day spent lounging around the apartment. As you slid under the covers, a delightfully wicked idea came to you.

You rolled onto your side, turning your back to Gojo. After a few minutes, you felt the bed dip as he scooted closer to you. One of his arms wrapped around your waist in a spooning cuddle.

You held your breath, waiting for the opportune moment. When you felt his hand slide down to cup your bottom, you struck. In one swift movement, you whipped around and delivered a sharp smack to Gojo’s pajama-clad ass.

“Hey!” he yelped in surprise.

You collapsed into laughter at the shocked expression on his face. “Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” you teased.

“I’ve created a monster!” His surprise morphed into an impressed grin. “But I have to admit, I liked it.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Don’t get too excited. That was payback for earlier.” Settling back down, you added, “But maybe I’ll spank you again if you behave yourself.”

“Oh, kinky~” Gojo barked out a delighted laugh and pulled you close. “I knew I loved you for a reason.” He nuzzled into your neck, his earlier antics temporarily forgotten.

[kingkatsuki]

Thinking about a silly accidental confession with Kaji, because you just know he would have an entire photo album dedicated to you on his phone!!

It wasn’t unusual for you and Kaji to share phones, even though you weren’t dating. Swapping devices so you could create each other custom playlists for whatever new artist you were listening to that week, or searching through each others sound cloud to try and find that song you’d heard playing in a local music venue before the show.

The pair of you were so comfortable with each other that you knew each others passcodes, a fact that Hiragi took great delight in when he’d found out. Claiming that you could find out all of Kaji’s deep, dark secrets— causing his best friend to shoot him a glare across the table as he bit down on the hard peach candy he’d been sucking to stop himself from throwing back a retort.

But Hiragi was right— there was a huge secret that he’d been hiding from you, and one he was certain he’d take to his grave because there was no way you’d ever feel the same.

Kaji had left his phone on the coffee table as he’d got up to use the bathroom, giving you the perfect opportunity to pick it up and unlock it like you usually would. Intent on adding a new song you’d found by a local artist to his current playlist in the hopes of being able to drag him to one of their shows later this month. Typing in the digits across the screen as it unlocked and you were met with his photo gallery, not wanting to pry or come across an accidental lewd (no matter how curious you were) as your thumb moved to swipe out of the app but you paused when you noticed it.

Row upon row of photos of you. Candids mostly— of you smiling while sitting across the table in Pothos from him, ones where you were walking ahead of him beside Tsubaki as he lingered back, or your face pressed against the glass of an arcade machine as you tried to aim for a plushie inside. Along with selfies the pair of you had taken together, some with the ridiculous Snapchat filters Kaji had sworn he despised and barked at you to delete— bunny ears or fake blush filters on his cheeks, along with individual selfies of yourself that you had sent to him. And there was even screenshots of your conversations, or flirty and silly memes you’d sent each other.

And that’s the moment you looked up at the title of the album to see “My Everything <3” typed out. Feeling your heart begin to swell inside your chest as you were certain it would exert pressure against your rib cage and burst free, he really did feel the same.

“What are you doin’?” Kaji flopped back down beside you on the couch, his thigh nudging yours as he glanced over to his phone in your hands as he saw it, and for the first time since held known you he tried to snatch his phone from between your fingers roughly, “Give that back.”

“No.” You held it out of his reach as Kaji practically leaned his entire body over you to try and retrieve it, leaving your faces inches from each others as you met his steel-blue gaze, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you felt the same,” His jaw locked as he tried to fight the awkward sensation that throbbed in his tummy, certain he’d ruined everything he already had with you because he had to go and catch feelings, “It’s stupid, I’m sorry I’ll delete it—”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You cut him off as you tilted your head to the side in confusion, and Kaji thought you looked so adorable it took every fiber of his being not to lean forward and smash his lips against yours.

“Why wouldn’t you what?” Kaji felt his throat start to tighten as his mouth felt dry, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly to try and quell the feeling. Wishing he had a lollipop between his lips to stop himself from exploding as he tried to focus.

“Why wouldn’t I feel the same?” You gave him a soft smile as you dropped his phone onto the couch beside you in favour of cradling his jaw in your palm, feeling him lean into your warmth as your thumb stroked his cheek, “Because you’re my everything too.”

And that was all it took to have Kaji bridging the gap as he pressed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

[inklore]

if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ — ONE WORD.

overboard 

runaway 

repercussions 

sledgehammer 

stargazing 

symmetry 

deathless 

honey 

retrograde 

stitches 

gravity 

helpline 

hollow 

suffer 

pushing 

warrant 

want 

wonder 

emotions 

nonchalant 

lavender 

daydream 

nosebleed 

jigsaw 

static 

float 

limbs 

hologram 

careless 

lush 

rotting 

phonograph 

hypnotic 

splinters 

magnetic 

wasted 

lithium 

dealer 

she

candles 

sabotage 

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

more

misery

like

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

xo

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet 

cherry bullet 

midnight guest 

cherry wish 

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions 

atlas hands 

broken crown 

crystallized words 

filthy pride 

fresh eyes 

heavy feet 

hungry ghosts 

imaginary paintings 

neon jungle 

perfect storm 

slow hands 

stop signs 

sad farewells 

untranslated stars 

after hours 

bad liar 

bonfire heart 

bruised lips 

cherry bomb 

damaged goods 

dead end 

fire away 

gunpowder hourglass 

lonely together 

lost language 

old moons 

one dance 

paper knees 

sleepy eyes 

stolen dance 

vice city 

artificial heart 

cry baby 

daylight fading 

dream awake 

empty bottle 

exit wounds 

ghost orchards 

moving stones 

paper walls 

oceans away 

playing fiction 

something wild 

wild thoughts 

everybody’s fool 

eyes closed 

storms incarnate 

writing tragedies 

stereo driver 

soul searching 

party’s over 

backseat driving 

fearful heart 

backwards directions 

nosebleed seats 

high hopes 

lovers rock

wet dream 

selfish soul 

washed away 

rose rogue 

midnight sun 

teenage fantasy 

wandering romance 

sure thing 

wildest dreams 

rock candy

losing momentum 

ruin you 

heart holiday 

sink her 

cut splinters 

hot mess 

frozen devotion 

little star 

blind faith 

favorite crime 

romantic homicide 

those eyes 

play pretend 

plot line 

pretty poison 

intimidate you 

pretty face 

strawberry kisses 

lovers rock 

worlds apart 

desperate/separate ways 

those eyes 

the blonde 

loving machine 

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed 

bleed for love

between the bars 

can’t be still

cold morning mist 

in cold blood

matter of time 

piece by piece 

ship to wreck 

taut with love 

waste a moment 

can’t see straight 

down and out 

in a blackout 

just like fire 

notes on tenderness 

across the room

fire with fire 

going half-mad

loving to ruins 

rust to gold

send my love 

talking in code 

cradling a dream 

cut to black 

dear to me 

run me dry 

dancing with demons 

kiss and tell 

if you care 

the cry out 

steal this night 

just for now 

heart on fire 

hold my head 

nobody but you 

simple and plain

a familiar sound 

fool for you 

drown your memory 

falling into you 

just like heaven 

warm like beaches 

love that stings 

rotting in places 

moves on you 

save your tears 

a single tear 

light my cigarette 

long nights, daydreams 

boys like you 

love me forever 

hands on me 

like a phonograph 

taking over me 

dug so deep 

touch the ground 

heart shaped box 

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine 

love me wrong

kiss or kill 

exes and why’s 

love is easy 

stupid in love 

easy to love

lost with you 

glimpse of us 

keep you safe 

death with dignity 

just like heaven 

heart of glass 

baby i’m yours 

pull my strings 

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do 

on a war path 

blood on the surface 

corner of the sky 

do the divine love 

drinking the corinthian sun 

everything is laced in (add word) 

lost in the moment 

in the nick of time 

mouth like a pomegranate 

the bones you’re made of 

when the mania speaks 

all desire & no thought 

blue in the face 

collapsing and relapsing 

middle of the night 

sail to the sun 

lay down your arms 

falling into the sky 

take me where your heart is 

she’s like the bad weather 

kill for your love 

the cigarette and the smoker 

the match and the fuse 

saint, i’m a sinner 

when the sky comes falling 

pretty little hand in mine 

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset 

tangled up with you all night 

paper airplanes flying 

maybe i’m a fool 

tastes like rock candy 

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die 

fate is losing its patience 

at least we feel alive 

death for your secrets 

someone’s gonna ruin you 

dancing in a crowded room 

smell you on my clothes 

always taste like you 

leave me wanting more 

hunger for (insert here) 

swim before you drown 

put your hands on me 

drink my (these) tears and cry 

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you 

so high we never stood a chance 

i’d break down anytime for you 

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true 

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette 

lips on my cold neck 

talking in my sleep 

make me feel like someone else 

locked inside your heart 

hooked on her flesh 

it’s bloody and raw 

the angel of small death 

just a couple sinners 

smiles cover your heart 

charmer and the snake 

stuck on your thumb 

if i killed someone for you 

dancing with your ghost 

i miss you, i’m sorry 

woman of the hour 

shut up and look pretty 

queen of the night 

devil in a dress 

the thought of you 

to be your lover 

falling over you 

just like a movie 

love on the line 

[aestrayla]

cherries or peaches? pt. 2 ft. obey me! datables

summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! datables x f!reader

cw: HIGHLY suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (sweetheart), fondling, groping, grinding/humping, semi-public but no sex, licking, stripping, MY HUMOUR..

word count: 1.4k

a/n: thank u so much for the love on the first part, im so happy to be able to write these hcs, they’re such a fun idea. i got a bit carried away and some of these turned into half-ish fics but i hope u enjoy this version just as much as the first ♡

haven’t read the first part yet? you can find it here ♡

diavolo loves ass. the end.

just kidding.

ever since arriving in the devildom, student council meetings had always been a bore to you. you were never able to understand the complex topics of the “worldly problems” discussed, which often led to you staring out into space.

but ever since you got close to diavolo, things had changed.

“keep it down, y/n,” diavolo whispered through clenched teeth, as he kept a beaming smile glued to his face.

you let out a peeved groan. how the hell were you supposed to keep quiet when he kept rocking you back and forth on his lap like this?

despite your squirming, his hands never left you as he pushed and kneaded at your ass under the table. his hard-on evident as it ground against your clit, eliciting hushed whimpers from your lips.

in many ways, doing this was beyond worse than just zoning out, one wrong move and the whole student council would probably never look you in the eye again.

to make matters worse, diavolo insisted that meetings can’t start unless you were up here, in his lap, at all times.

“dia, i can’t do this anymore,” you whimpered under your breath.

“it’s almost over soon, sweetheart. just a little longer ‘n then i’ll make you feel good, hm?”

it might not be obvious at first, but barbatos loves boobs.

hearing that he was the “greatest pastry chef in all three worlds” has always been something that intrigued you. it wasn’t until you tried them for yourself that you realised that this statement was far from being a lie.

it was only a few weeks ago that you asked him to teach you a few of his recipes, you had never seen so much delight in his eyes. “oh that would be great, y/n! i’ve always been looking forward to the day you’d ask me so.”

as you slam the door to the oven, a gust of the hot air blows against your face, “how long should these be in the oven for, barbs?”

“thirty minutes should be fine. do you mind adding some of that sugar over there into this bowl?” you set the oven timer to thirty minutes before scurrying over with a measured bowl of sugar, pouring it into the bowl of fresh cream.

“perfect, could you whisk up this cream for me while i go find the vanilla?”

“sure.” he hands you the whisk before poking his nose through the cupboards in search of vanilla.

as you were whisking, you let your mind wander. gosh, i can’t wait to try this when it’s done… but dang i lowkey wonder when he’s gonna let me in his pants already… a few wet splatters across your chest had snapped you back to focus, “oh shit— i spilt it on me!”

the clank of the whisk dropping to the countertop had barbatos rushing towards you.

“oh goodness me, you’ve made a mess!”

“i know… fuck i’m sorry. i’ll just get a tea towel and wipe—”

before you could finish your sentence, barbatos had stopped you. his body crowding up against yours as he leaned in. holding you by your waist, you could feel his kitten licks swipe against your chest, even reaching as far down to the cleavage of your boobs.

you started to feel hot and dazed as the sweet aroma drifted through the kitchen, while he started to suck harshly against your skin, fingers creeping up to caress your boobs. soft pants began to leave your mouth as his tongue worked across your chest, but before it could escalate any further, he had pulled away.

as he stepped back, wiping the corner of his lips, you were left completely flustered, “oh wow, the cream without the vanilla tastes really good, you might just have a talent for baking y/n!”

“uh-huh…” you muttered, staring at him dumb-found and wide-eyed.

simeon is secretly a big fan of boobs, so today was a big treat for him.

it was the weekend, he had scored a pair of free tickets to the amusement park, and of course decided to bring you along. it was a leisurely day however, the rides and attractions he decided to do were almost too tame for your excitement.

dragging him along, you spot an attraction that seemed to catch your eye. handing two tokens to the employee, you quickly rushed into the tank, simeon freezing, clearly stunned and confused about what was about to happen. “hey y/n, what’s going on?!”

taking a seat on the tiny platform you point to the target beside you, “can you hit a bullseye?” you winked.

the employee hands simeon a ball, “you’ve got three tries, buddy.” after a moment of hesitation, he throws the ball, hitting the center of the target with a loud smack.

you let out a small shriek before getting submerged into the tank of water. “oh my— Y/N!” simeon rushes towards the tank, quickly pulling you out from the water. you let out sharp breaths before giggling, “your aim is amazing!”

“is this your idea of fun?!” his hands reach up to hold both sides of your face, turning it from one side to the other. “you’re not hurt are you?”

you smile sweetly, flattered by his concern, “i’m fine simeon, it was fun, really.”

he sighs, “good, alright.” his eyes travel over your body checking for any scrapes before widening at the sight of your chest. the water had soaked your white shirt completely, revealing that you were wearing nothing underneath. your round nipples were perked up from the cold water while your shirt was clinging onto your wet skin.

gasping even louder than before, in a flimsy last-minute attempt to cover you up, he slaps his hands over each of your boobs and although it works in his favour, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“don’t laugh y/n! we need to get you a new shirt, or at least a sweater!”

you pull him towards you by his collar, your lips mere inches away from touching, “so are you gonna help me take this one off first?” your purr.

his hands race to cover his reddened face, “w-wait that’s not what i—!” upon realising your boobs are on display again, he slams his hands back over them, “y/n!” he whines.

two hours in, and it was blatantly obvious to solomon that this tutoring session was going nowhere.

you weren’t understanding any terms or concepts of the topic at hand and with a week to go before your final, it seemed like solomon was more worried about this than you were. surely it isn’t because you’re too distracted sitting in his lap, right?

he clears his throat, “how about this…” you slowly lift your head up from the palm of your hands, clearly distressed about your upcoming failure. “for every question you get incorrect, you remove a piece of clothing.”

you raise your brows, intrigued, “and for every question i get right, you remove a piece of clothing?” you stare back at him.

“exactly, and for that answer…” he slowly shrugs off his blazer and places it behind his chair, “i’ll remove this.”

in hopes of this becoming a motivation for you, he began to quiz you with a mini questionnaire. “what are the three ingredients used to make the elixir of cerebral stimulation?”

you internally face palm because you knew jack shit about brewing potions, “uhhh… newt legs, unicorn hair, and frog mucus?”

solomon clears his throat ubruptly. “um, no. the correct answer is powdered unicorn hoof, bittergrass root, and caladrius blood.”

you look down in embarrassment before removing three pieces of clothing. only four minutes in and you’re left in nothing but your underwear and bra.

“last and final question, what covered the devildom when it was first created?”

“…darkness?”

“…unfortunately, that is incorrect. the correct answer is a forest.”

you groan. you haven’t gotten a single question correct and embarrassment was evident as your face was flushed. you turn to face solomon, “at this point, why don’t you choose what i take off?”

your pretty face staring up at him, teary and doe-eyed had him swooning. slowly standing up and pushing your back down onto the table, he stared deliriously at you. papers were scattered everywhere and textbooks were crumpled open. your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands gently pulled the straps of your bra down your shoulders.

staring at your bare chest he murmurs, “i’m obsessed with these,” before diving straight in.

a/n: haven’t written in about 5 months so excuse how rusty my writing has gotten.. but nonetheless, thanks for reading this far, luv you all ♡

©2024 aestrayla. do not modify, copy, translate or share.

[augustinewrites]

augustine!! how do u think the reader's father acts w the kids or what he thinks of the whole situation (a random thought sry 😭)

hi i LOVE this question sm

you’re picking through a crate of peaches in search of the perfect ones when someone says your name.

smiling at the familiar voice, you turn to see your father standing behind you.

“hi!” you gasp, moving in to give him a hug. he holds you tightly, a hand smoothing over your hair briefly before he holds you at an arms length, suddenly very serious as he looks you up and down.

“how are you?”

you’ve been expecting this. even now, your father is still your father. “good. i’ve been good.”

“that boy of yours is treating you well?”

“very well, i promise.” you look around, spotting him a few meters away with the kids, the three of them debating over which muffins to buy. “he’s over there, actually.”

you watch - a little nervous - as your father’s gaze drifts to megumi and tsumiki.

“those are toji’s…”

“yes,” you confirm nervously. “we’re their legal guardians. and before you say anything, no, satoru didn’t pressure me into helping him. we all make our own choices, and i chose this. chose them.”

you both watch as gojo loses the battle, reluctantly exchanging the box of chocolate chip muffins for carrot muffins. it makes you laugh, drawing his attention to the two of you. he raises a hand in greeting, staring straight at your father.

oddly, you sense that you’re missing something.

your father is silent for a few moments, the expression on his face a bit hard to read as he watches gojo and the kids. you have a feeling that he disapproves, that he thinks you should return home and—

“are you happy?”

the question catches you off guard. “what?”

“with them,” he repeats patiently, waiting. “are you happy?”

your answer comes naturally, like breathing. “yes.”

he hums, his question and your answer hanging between you two for a moment. you feel like a child again, craving nothing but your father’s approval and praise.

“good.” there’s a gentleness in your father’s smile that makes you feel safe and secure in your decision. “we should have dinner sometime. i would love the chance to properly meet my grandchildren.”

[moonchildstyles]

bardot coming soon

set in 1969 California, y/n is a struggling model, and harry might have a way to get her to her dreams

—————

One of them in particular had (Y/N) flicking her eyes away more than once, his face almost too pretty to look at for longer than a moment before needing a break. 

His bone structure was sharp, jawline cutting with high cheekbones, a layer of stubble creeping up his cheeks. From his profile, his nose was a perfect straight line; cinnamon colored freckles were dusted over the bridge, faint under the lowlight. His hair came in textured waves of dark brown, playing off of the bright green hue of his eyes. His white button up was undone, displaying the white undershirt pasted to his torso. Just the faintest peeks of different tattoos bled through the thin fabric, including the tips of a chest piece peeking over the neckline of his tank. A small peach colored, paisley printed silk scarf was hanging around his neck, untied through the wrinkles in the material made it clear it had been knotted earlier in the night. A pair of black pants were belted around his hips with a shimmering pinstripe running through the garment, playing off the ambient lighting through the backyard.

(Y/N) couldn't keep herself from following the line of his form. Broad shoulders and strong chest gave way to a tapered waist, each block of muscle visible through the cling of the top. 

By the time she dared to flit her eyes back up to his face, (Y/N) had to blink back her shock at finding the green lilypads of his eyes already trained right on her. A small smile touched at the corner of his mouth, amusement sparking across his graze. 

Feeling her skin heating, she was suddenly too aware of herself. She hadn't meant to glaze her eyes all over him, let alone be caught doing just that. Flicking her gaze away on instinct towards Misty still schmoozing over her executive, (Y/N) shuffled in her spot, patent leather of her boots squeaking. Her hands suddenly felt too empty, especially feeling his eyes still warming the side of her face. She didn't think before she had her hand reaching for her hair, searching for some kind of flyaway or anything out of place to play with, just before her fingers collided with her forgotten sunglasses. If there wasn't already enough embarrassment coursing through her system, the fact she had left her accessory messily holding her hair back could have been enough to have her melting on the spot. 

It wasn't bad enough she was caught ogling a stranger, she also had to have stray pieces of hair standing straight up on her head while she was at it. 

Fumbling around, she plucked the sunglasses from the top of her head and made to shove them into her purse. A breathy laugh sounded, so quiet she wouldn't have heard it over all the noise had she not been hyper aware of the man standing only feet away from her. 

Peeking up through the stray baby hairs falling in her face, (Y/N) saw the man with the peach scarf looking at her with an amused smile on his face, dimples in his cheeks with his green irises bright. He bounced his brows above his eyes when he caught her gaze, gesturing down to her stumbling hands and fingerprint laden glasses with a tip of his chin. 

(Y/N)'s blood burned under the apples of her cheeks. She could only sheepishly shrug, a shy smile on her lips in hopes of looking more nonchalant than she clearly was. 

Another small laugh plumed from him. Her shoulders relaxed some when she realized he wasn't making a joke of her, merely quietly teasing her over something only the two of them know about. A small inside joke was being threaded between them in the middle of the patio. 

Stepping away from the congregation, the man made a step towards (Y/N). Her heartbeat picked up in her chest. It would only take a few of his long strides to close to space between them. 

"This is (Y/N)," Misty chirped, tugging her forward and away from the stranger that had taken her attention. "My sister bailed, and (Y/N) stepped up to come with me tonight. I wouldn't be here if she didn't agree to come out here." 

A slight daze had (Y/N)'s attention split between the present and moments before. She gave a placid smile to Misty's executive, offering a hand out for him to shake. "Nice to meet you. Mr. Vitacoma, right?" 

He flashed (Y/N) a bright smile, offering his own greeting she barely paid attention to. Pleasantries were exchanged then, forcing her to play along as to not ruin this for Misty, though (Y/N)'s mind was decidedly stitched elsewhere. With every plastered smile and feigned attentive nod of her head, she could feel someone's—his—eyes on her. 

If it wasn't disrespectful, she would have already disengaged from Mr. Vitacoma and given her attention back to the man with the peach scarf. As much as she warmed under his gaze, still feeling a bit of that embarrassment after being caught so obviously ogling him, she was thrilled to have seen him attempting to approach her. 

She hoped she hadn't lost her chance to hear what kind of voice a man like that held, and what it may sound like wrapped around her name. 

Hearing the beginnings of Misty's laugh, (Y/N) immediately joined in, having missed completely what she was laughing at but playing along anyway. Taking advantage of the moment, she turned her head just enough in hopes of catching sight of the peach scarf man from around Misty's back. 

But, he was gone. Even with his height, she was unable to catch even a single swirl of his brown hair among the sea of the other executives congregating around them. 

Before she had much of a chance to mourn the chance that had come and gone to know anything about this man, a scream sounding from beside the pool had her turning around. Misty and Mr. Vitacoma barely registered the noise, only offering fleeting glances in that direction before she was back to her half-flirting, half-schmoozing. (Y/N)'s jaw dropped when she saw what exactly had screeched beside the pool.

A woman with voluminous blonde hair and a drunken smile on her face had stripped down, her dress and undergarments sitting in a pile on the grass, and was running straight towards the pool. Those around the pool with drinks in their hands cheered her on, encouraging her just before she took a leap and splashed straight into the water. As soon as she surfaced, makeup running with her hair deflated and pasted her face, another round of raucous cheers cracked through the backyard. 

Flitting her eyes around, (Y/N) expected to see others sharing her shock. Instead, she found people either not paying attention at all or smiling on as if this was nothing more than the scheduled entertainment for the night. While (Y/N) wouldn't consider herself a complete prude (she'd seen a few French films over the years, and they were certainly not for the pearl-clutchers back home), but she couldn't believe no one shied away at the sight of the woman's naked body. Was there a memo that Misty forgot to let her in on? 

Nonetheless, (Y/N) found herself unable to pull her eyes from the commotion that was beginning over by the pool. It was as if the woman's display had been a gun firing off, signaling the start of the real party now that the sun had dipped and only the most fun remained for the rest of the festivities. 

—————

bardot is my next series being posted to Patreon starting this month, with weekly posting coming to Tumblr in July. I've been wanting to set a story around this time for sooooo long so im happy Ive started getting something out for you all to read!!! im so excited to have this ready for the summer and can't wait to see what you think! if you have any fun predictions or ideas you can send them in:) in the meantime, you can take a look at the Pinterest board for the story to get a vibe of what is coming!