#it's incredibly delicious and always seemed like it would be a pain to make because full sets really do come on like 10 different plates

[fuck1ng-queen]

Strawberries and Memories

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 0,7k

Warnings: none, just some fluff for today (maybe a slight insinuation of sex, if you blink you miss)

Author comments: hello, my beautiful people! merry christmas for those who celebrate! i made a poll a few days ago asking about my next content being something fluffy or spicy and you answered fluffy, soooo, here we go <3 don't forget english is not my first language, so mistakes can happen. to join my taglist, please, let me know via ask. i hope you all like it!

You can read it in br-portuguese here.

Although you knew it was cold, you were naive to think that in the middle of December leaving home early wearing just a thin cold sweater to spend the whole day outside would warm you up enough. You body hurt, your fingers were stiff and your teeth chattered, and although you weren’t that bothered by the cold, it made you miss summer days, specially the last ones, where you and Noah had spent the most incredible afternoons ever under the sun and in the ocean water. You sighed as you remembered that even though you forgot using sunscreen on the last day at the beach, making you both back home burned and sensitive, those days were deliciously unforgettable.

You took your phone off your pocket and walking back to the office after lunch, you typed a few words to your man: 

“babe, I’m missing those days at the beach, remember? just haven’t decided what I miss more… if it’s the heat (i mean, seriously? what was i thinking when i left home today morning with no warm clothes?) or just cuddling up with you without worring about anything else in life.” 

And you couldn’t help smiling as you read the reply:

“Message from Nowah💕: be home asap to cuddle up a little, then i heat you up and we solve both of your problems.” 

(…)

The day had just fallen and you returned home on the subway while thinking about that week at the beach, and how you would give it all up for the heat of that day. Then you unlocked the phone screen and went straight to your photos, looking for a specific one: Noah with his lips in a straw drinking coconut water. That was one of the ones you liked the most, and not only of the trip, but of him himself. His gaze was calm and his face seemed rested as you haven't seen in weeks. You were a little surprised he didn’t answer your last messages. At that time of day he was always online, but you figured he might be busy with something else or still behind the wheel, late to get home. You didn’t mind so much. In fact you just wanted to get home soon, put on some proper clothes, and plant yourself in front of the fireplace until take roots.

Leaving the station, you faced the wet, freezing wind from the street and damn, you could have sworn you could remember times you cut yourself with a kitchen knife or fell off your bike and felt less pain than at that moment. As you walked down the two or three blocks from the station to your house you hummed something to distract yourself, making you think a little less about the shivering under the wrong clothe you had chosen to wear.

When you got home you saw that Noah’s car was at the garage, which was strange because he rarely failed to answer your messages when he was home. Anyway, you grabbed the keys from your pocket, and as you opened the door you felt a strong thermal shock, stronger than you imagined. You went inside, already feeling much better from the temperature, but… Why on earth would Noah leave the air turned on at such that high temperature?

“Baby? I’m home, you in?” you asked, curious to know what he might be up to.

“Yup, babe, kitchen.” You heard his voice answer.

Almost there, you saw him appear at the door, in shorts and barefoot, his hair messy, basically reproducing the picture you had seen earlier, which he knew you liked so much. He was holding a coconut in his hands, with a straw, and smiling, happy to see you. He came up to kiss you, and damn, you loved that feeling when you felt him smile during the kiss. Releasing his lips from yours he looked at you tenderly and pulled you by the hand into the kitchen so that you could see several fruits, all chopped up, just waiting for you. He took the bowl of fruit and said:

“Honey, I just didn’t have time to get the beach, okay? But the cuddling part…” he paused slightly, putting a strawberry in your mouth. “We can work that one out right now.”

Your eyes sparkled and you couldn’t help but giggle and kiss him as you realized what he had done, unable to believe how lucky you were to have Noah by your side, and happy to know that that weekend would probably be as precious in your memories as the last hot summer days.

.

.

masterlist | send me an ask to join my taglist

@lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[m-jelly]

Levi x ballerina reader. Like theyre already together and reader was warming up and levi got all blushy and didnt know how to tell her...

@kenkopanda-art <3

Stretching

Levi x fem!reader

Modern AU, fluff, romance, being a couple, ballerina reader, flustered Levi, suggestive.

Levi goes with you to practice because he adores watching you dance. This is his first time watching you stretch and as he does he starts to feel things he shouldn't in public.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

Watching you was like watching a Goddess design and create a magical world. No matter how many times Levi watched you, he was always left speechless. It just brought a smile to his face because you were so happy when you danced, it was just in your blood and soul.

The pain you would get in your feet sometimes was bad, so Levi did everything in his power to help you. He made sure he bought the best products and would massage it all into your feet and ankles. Every time you felt doubt or tired, he would praise you and give you the boost you needed. Levi always had a bag full of everything you needed to keep you going.

Today you had practice and you invited Levi to go with you, which he was excited about. Levi was the CEO of a company that supplied wonderful tea and coffee that was delicious and the trading was fair. Every single person he employed was paid fairly and had rights.

Levi helped you take your jacket off and then knelt before you and swapped your boots for your shoes. He was never asked to do this, he just loved doing it and you always felt flustered as his talented fingers moved as he tied up the ribbon.

You let out a shy whine. "Levi."

He glanced up at you with pure adoration in his eyes. "Yes?"

"You don't have to do this."

"I know." He leaned closer and kissed your knee. "I want to. I enjoy it."

You hummed a little laugh. "You're cute."

He leaned up and kissed you. "Have a good practice. I will be right here if you need me. I have your drinks and snacks."

You giggled. "Thank you. You take such good care of me."

"Because I love you."

You felt your cheeks heat up. "I love you too." You rose to your feet. "I gotta warm up."

"I'll be here. You're doing amazing."

The other people coming in didn't even register with Levi because his eyes were on you. Every move you were making was so elegant and smooth. He took a seat and admired the way you worked. A sweet smile graced his lips as you stretched your joints.

Levi blushed hard when you lifted your leg in the air and grabbed your toes. Something heated shot through him when he saw you doing the splits standing up. He tried to look away from between your legs, but it was hard to not look at how stunning and sexy you were.

Every move you made and stretch was intoxicating and attractive to him. The two of you were very physical with each other in bed, it was hard to keep your hands to yourselves. You both wanted each other and enjoyed loving and touching the other. It was not like he'd never seen you in sexy positions before, but something was setting his heart and body on fire.

He shifted a little and realised he was getting more and more needy for you. He grabbed your bag of drinks and snacks and then placed it on his lap. Now he was more comfortable, he watched you for much longer and felt himself drooling at how incredible you were. It was hard to hide his blush on his cheeks and as soon as you looked over him and smiled, you seemed to register the blush he had and simply giggled.

Levi enjoyed watching you practice and as soon as you hurried over he offered you a drink. "W-Well done."

You downed some of your drink and hummed. "We're you checking me out as I stretched?"

"I-I've never seen you stretch before. I-It was uh...n-nice."

"Nice?" You smirked and leaned closer. "Nice how?"

He gulped hard and tried to avoid your gaze. "I ah...you...well..."

You kissed Levi and nuzzled your nose against his after. "You are so cute. It's okay to admit you got horny watching me."

He groaned a bit. "I feel like an animal."

"My hungry wolf."

He looked at his lap as he blushed. He released a long sigh before speaking. "I l-loved what I s-saw. Mm...it made me...feel things...good things..."

"Well, I know how you feel. When you work out in the gym in our home? My word does it make me tingle inside." You released a long sigh. "You're incredible."

Levi got up and growled. "Maybe next time I can use you to work out. I could lift you."

You shivered. "Y-Yes."

[fatuismooches]

I used to love scrolling through the Dottore x Reader tag on Tumblr until I stumbled upon your account and ended up binge-reading all of your posts. [I would spam-like all your posts, but I’m unsure if spam-liking is unwelcome! (/--)/] I just have to say, your writing and characterization of Dottore and his segments are by far the best I’ve ever read and seen???? Honestly, it’s my favourite portrayal of Dottore, and your writing is just so immaculate??? The emotions and details are perfect, and it’s always such a joy to read and visualize everything in my head. If I had to describe it with a physical feeling, your writing feels warm, fun, freeing, and safe—like lying in a field of grass under a night sky, with warm winds brushing against my skin. ＼(^-^)／

I love your versions of the segments, too! They all feel so unique, and there’s such variety in your portrayal of them. I love how each segment gets its share of love. The interactions between the reader, Prime, and the segments never feel awkward���everything feels balanced and fair. I used to be really unsure about segments x reader content, but you’ve made me fall in love with them all. The way you give each segment so much personality while ensuring none of them overshadow the others is just incredible?? IF THAT MAKES SENSE—I’M JUST RAMBLING I FEAR— TLDR: YOUR WRITING MAKES MY EYES AND HEART EXPLODE WITH HAPPINESS. (*^ー^)ノ♪

AND THE ANGST WRITING TOO??? UGH, MY HEART. IT’S SO PAINFUL. I LITERALLY TEAR UP AND CHOKE UP EVERY TIME YOU WRITE ANGST. [PLEASE, SEGMENTS AND PRIME DOTTORE LIVE FOREVER!!! MY HEART CANT HANDLE THAT PAIN- AND THAT LATEST ONE ABOUT OMEGA AND READER HAD ME DOWN ON THE GROUND, UNABLE TO GET UP. (/_;)/] But seriously, your work has made me so much more attached to Dottore than ever before. Sometimes I even find it hard to go through the Dottore x Reader tag nowadays because I’ve developed such a heavy bias and preference for your characterization of him. It’s such a refreshing take on the character and I absolutely adore it. ＼(^-^)／

Also, I’m just in general a sucker for villains being soft for their lover, and the fragile reader concept you explore on this blog is just chef’s kiss.

Please write forever, I don't know what I'll do with my nightly reading time without your delicious dottore content /lh /pos

Also, your blog is so organized it saves me so much time as someone who frequently gets losT online and irl

CAN I BE 💀🎉 ANON???? I'VE NEVER BEEN AN ANON THING BEFORE IDK HOW TO DO THIS

SORRY FOR THE WORD VOMIT MY MIND HAS LIKE 3938328 THINGS RUNNING AT ONCE AND WANTS TO SAY THEM ALL IN ONE GO

ANON??!? IM LITERALLY GOING TO CRY I NEED A MOMENT TO BREATHE WHO LET YOU BE SO KIND- IWHDEUWIDHEW

FIRST OF ALL, THANK U FOR THIS ILY 😭🙏 I'm super happy you like my writing and characterization of Dottore, your praise makes my heart happy and want to continue to write *hugs* 💕! (and feel free to spam like, it doesn't bother me and it makes me smile actually!)

I'M GLAD I MADE YOU LIKE SEGMENTS FICS TOO??😭🥺 that's a huge compliment bfbewfe imo the segments are underrated in fics and need more love so to know i converted you just makes me go 🥹🥹🥹🤏💙💙💙💕🥺 FELLOW SEGMENT LOVER!!!! I VERY MUCH ADORE YOUR RAMBLING ANON!! your praise for my writing is far too high i fear- i just write what my whimsical heart tells me to 🫶 i think ur the one making my eyes and heart explode!!! >.<

AHH IM HOLDING U TIGHTLY DURING THE ANGST FBEWFEW I PROMMY EVERYONE IS ALIVE!!!! I'm also glad you liked the Omega fic hehe i was worried it didn't have the usual oomph BUT IT SEEMS I DID MY JOB!!! (secretly love-hate writing angst bc it makes me sad but i also love reactions like these-) It's always the nicest thing when people love Dottore more thanks to my writing, it's truly so cute!! I love spreading the doter love... 💞💞💞

SUPER GLAD YOU LOVE THAT TROPE TOO!!! IT IS MY LIFE'S BLOOD!! i prommy to write forever for you dear 💀🎉 anon (funny emoji combo) I WILL MAKE YOUR NIGHTS THE BEST NIGHTS!! also glad to see you appreciate my organization, i am actually proud of my blog's structure hehe

U DON'T NEED TO APOLOGIZE!!! I LOVED THIS ASK SM IM STORING IT SAFELY!!

[funishment-time]

a crop of Kodaka birthday posts!

we've got:

Kizakura

Sakura

Ryota

Yuta

Kiyotaka

i've put them all under the cut!

🍷 KIZAKURA:

auto-translate:

Kizakura: "Oh man, what a pain. A delicious-looking special juice as a present. I received it, so I'd better drink it properly, or it would be bad manners. I'll get scolded by Chisa again... She probably doesn't understand yet that this juice is the lubricant between the world and the individual. Or gasoline? Well, whatever. As long as the juice tastes good, I'll be fine."

kizakura my man i don't know that chisa is even Old Enough to drink. you all hired a 19 year old or whatever. but that's fine

🌸 SAKURA

auto-translate:

Ogami: "A gift to me... I'm always grateful. I'll use it to wipe away sweat after training. It seems to be made of good material for the skin, so that's a relief. After sweating, I need to be careful with my skin care, otherwise it will get rough. By the way, it seems that martial arts where you fight for one minute are popular these days. I was also invited to try, but I declined because I would kill my opponent if I had one minute. Even one second is too long for me."

✏️ RYOTA

auto-translate:

Mitarai: "My wish is to make a great anime. I don't care about anything else. I have no interest in it, and I thought I didn't need anything. In fact, I even thought it was annoying...but I don't know, the fact that there are people who are celebrating with me like this makes me incredibly happy. I feel like this feeling...will make me make an even better anime. Because I want everyone to be happy."

👟 YUTA

auto-translate:

Asahina Yuta: "Woohoo! There are still people who send me presents!? I'm so glad that you remember me. Make sure you remember my name, okay? Like I said before, when you want to remember a name, it's good to write it three times on the palm of your hand. The kanji for Yuuta is a little difficult, but if you write it three times you'll remember it, right? Well, I still can't write it!"

🌻 TAKA

auto-translate:

Ishimaru: "Huh? Who brought something like this to school?! That's not right, you'll be punished! What? This is a present for me... you say? I, I see... so in that case, I'm the one who will be punished. I gratefully accepted it and it's now mine! That's right, I remember my bro saying he was going to take a make-up exam... Yes! It wouldn't be so bad for the two of us to take the make-up exam together! Actually, it's actually a good thing that we can study at school even though it's a holiday! Hahaha!"

[theseerasures]

the other very delicious thing about Ryan's Fiyero is that he's a complete and total tryhard. like. he is not cool or suave at all? he's kinda awkward as a dancer (sry Ryan i've seen better), he peppers all his gestures with these extrrrrravagant flourishes, and when he says "you're good" to Galinda he sounds like she just accomplished the most incredible feat of social engineering known to man. under the bluster he's this sweaty anxious dweeb, and what's incredible is that Elphaba INSTANTLY clocks this about him--which is why she can acknowledge his joke is funny--but G(a)linda kind of... never does.

part of this we can attribute to Katie, whose G(a)linda--even when she's lesbicious or afraid of Fiyero invading her personal space or downright unknowable--has always obviously adored every one of her Fiyeros. even in the early days Galinda would have some composure right up until Dancing Through Life, whereupon she transforms into a baby giraffe on rollerskates (with karate action!!). here the shift doesn't happen with as much abandon: she's not breaking her neck trying to impress him anymore, there are some traces of coy competitiveness when they're dancing, and when she tosses her hair at him after sending Boq away it's clear she's playing a game and not trying to entice him by showing off her neck muscles (impressive as they are). but that just makes the moments when she legitimately swoons, or clutches her heart, or gets so lost in his antics the rest of the world falls away stand out more in contrast.

so we have a Galinda who is more coordinated, more graceful, and has a defter social touch than her Fiyero; who seems to KNOW this on some level...but still believes this man to be the coolest greatest person in the world. what could be the cause? is this something we can put on The Misogyny? i mean i guess we can, if we want to be cynical and depressing and boring about it, but i prefer to save that reading for the Fiyeros who are so unpleasant it feels like abject nonsense anyone would have a high opinion of him. the more generative answer for this version is that Galinda both knows she's better than Fiyero at many things AND sincerely thinks Fiyero is just the best, and these things don't conflict in her head in much the same way they won't later with Elphaba. if you asked her i'm sure she'd say that since she is the best it only makes sense those she's closest to are also the best, but in general i think Galinda prefers not to reason her way through this (as well as a great many other things). love is not a reasonable emotion.

it's something i want to return to later, but part of why this trio gives so much Thropple (beyond the unbelievable chemistry) is how transparently they are wrong about each other. Elphaba thinks Galinda and Fiyero are the fakest McFake people to ever exist and wants to condemn one but save the other; Galinda thinks Elphaba and Fiyero are 100% exactly how they present themselves initially, and so Elphaba is irredeemable while Fiyero is perfect; Fiyero thinks BOTH girls are perfect, but for diametrically opposed reasons where Galinda is the Fake and Elphaba is the Real. and of course all of it is fucking nonsense, but they spend the whole show fighting off that realization. because there's just enough truth in each assumption to make you want to stick to your guns. because it's painful to realize you're wrong about someone. because it's painful to realize you're wrong about yourself. because it's painful to realize someone else is right about you.

none of them want to acknowledge this. even by the end of the show they haven't come to terms with it. but even by the end of the show they still love each other--involuntarily, painfully; and so painfully, involuntarily, they keep trying to understand.

[inventors-fair]

Living Legends: Myth ReRealized Winners

~

Our winners this week are @bergdg, @izzet-always-r-versus-u, and @nine-effing-hells!

@bergdg — Songs for the Morning Star

Sagas are one of the clearer choices this week, right after legendary creatures. Heck, the card type was literally made to tell ancient legends! While I'm not particularly familiar with the story being represented here, the picture you've painted between the art description and the effect has me immediately interested. And speaking of the effect, it's a doozy. The final chapter is incredibly strong, but being locked behind a lengthy delay and the size of your board means it creates a good amount of friction. Your opponent has the chance in the interim to cull your creatures, either through wiping the slate clean or removing just enough to protect a crucial card. But on the flipside, the bird being created each turn means it's an uphill battle at all stages. I do think the card could use a slight tweak in mana cost and/or rarity, because gaining 6 life and creating 3 birds on its own already feels a bit like it's punching above its weight class. This one's firmly "I can't substantiate this without actually playing with it," so take it under advisement.

@izzet-always-r-versus-u — Exact Judgement

First of all: phenomenal pun. Genuinely the kind of wordplay that makes me equal parts guffaw and kick myself for not thinking of it myself sooner. Part of me wishes all the numbers you could choose were squares to really go all the way, but 9 is pretty impractical for the effect. Oh well. Anyways, we've seen plenty of board wipes like this over the years, where you're allowed to dictate the parameters of the wipe to hopefully make it miss your most important permanents. This one immediately has an interest point over other power-based conditions like Austere Command and Dawn//Dusk simply because creatures with power 1 are always being hit, nonnegotiable. Thanks to that, it's kind of a no-go in token and/or weenie decks, which is often where these effects find a home. I do wonder if this is a bit too overcosted, though, for what it is. Wrath of God is currently in Foundations, and while I touted its ability to be sculpted to miss your board, it also seems very easy to be forced to miss something you'd really rather destroy. Especially with 2, 3, and 4, which are all extremely common powers. Four mana with the extra color should be fine, right?

@nine-effing-hells — Tantalizing Torment

Ooh, this is positively vile. It's generally a bit of a faux pas to have cards contradict themselves. It's not fun to have a card lie to you about what it does, after all, and it generally makes it a bit too much of a pain to understand in an expedient manner. That said, you can justify just about anything (within the rules, that is) if it plays into what the card does well enough, which brings us neatly to this little number. The complete lockdown on draw and lifegain is brutal, but what really makes this stand out is the sheer cruelty of the last effect. Dangling what they could have and by all rights should have directly in their face while everyone else benefits without issue kind of rules, ultimately. A big selling point for justifying the contradictory effect is that it's also not too clever for its own good: a player who reads through and gets the joke—so to speak—would probably chuckle instead of groan, as so often happens. Now I'm just imagining a situation where you've enchanted every opponent in a four player game and you're just sitting there drawing so many cards that they simply cannot have. Deliciously evil.

~

It won't be long now...the runners approach. —@spooky-bard

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

Reverse

If he could go back… he could fix it. He could… make sure they all survive.

Warnings: maybe sad?.. (I don't know how to write sadness)

~

There were many things in Satoru Gojo's life that he sincerely regretted. If he could go back in time, he would fix a lot of things. But why are these conversations now? He was drowning in his own blood and was about to leave the world of the living. He wouldn't want to leave now, wouldn't want to leave at all… He still had so many things he wanted to do…

Satoru didn't know why all these pictures flashed before his eyes. Perhaps, before death, the whole life really appears before your eyes? But there is so much pain in his life that it would be better if Gojo died without viewing his autobiography.

But fate is cruel. It's incredibly cruel. So Satoru had to watch until the end.

Here he is in his first year of high school, in front of him a familiar tear-stained face. This is his now deceased wife, (Y/N). She was the most wonderful person in this world, who always understood him and helped him… but all this happened after he humiliated her for many years.

Satoru didn't like weak people, especially when he was a teenager. It seemed to him that the whole world should lie in his palm, and those who dare to resist should be punished. He believed that his opinion was the only correct one. So what happened when a weak girl from the village declared that he was a stupid idiot and that she would win over him and become stronger than him? Of course, she was subject to humiliation and harassment.

It wasn't that Satoru was specifically looking for her or beating her… but at every convenient opportunity, he called her names and hurled insults. His weak deceased wife was often with the only sorcerer capable of healing others, which allowed Gojo to make an approximate schedule of his "fun".

His laughter made (Y/N) wince sometimes when she was still alive. It was left over from their teenage days when he laughed out loud at her at every opportunity. Another time flashed before his eyes when he, the tall Satoru Gojo, towered over the low (Y/N) (Y/S), who was crying, but desperately trying to hide her tears. Shoko is sitting next to her, hugging her regular patient and looking accusingly at her friend.

He was told many times to stop bullying others. But Satoru just couldn't do anything. And how else can a person who is the strongest sorcerer of the generation have fun?

Gojo still didn't understand why (Y/N) married him in the end. Perhaps, over time, he became more tolerant and less sarcastic, and she was able to see in the great sorcerer not just an opponent, but a man. Perhaps it was all because of Shoko, who was constantly hitting a friend on the head to shut him up. Perhaps it's all because of that mission when they both found themselves under a layer of disgusting slime and were eventually forced to fight for the only shower in the room.

But what difference does it make? His own arrogance led him to attend the funeral of a woman he fell head over heels in love with after a few years of dating.

And what a wonderful wedding he had! Then Satoru burst into tears for the first time in front of a large number of people, because he could not calmly watch his future wife, so beautiful in a white dress, with a large bouquet in her hands and a thick veil on her face, walking to the altar. Yes, no fabric prevented Gojo from seeing the wonderful face of the love of his life, and therefore tears began to flow down his cheeks even more actively.

The wedding… the wedding was something Satoru wanted to see right now. He wanted to see a delicious cake of five tiers, prepared by the best chefs in Japan, and not the urn in which his wife's burned body was located.

She died because he was too stubborn, even after the wedding. He should have just admitted that she was strong. He should have gently hinted that she was strong, but he would still always protect… protect in a way that he couldn't protect in the end.

(Y/N) went on a difficult mission because she wanted to prove to her husband that she was capable of the same feats as him. Satoru then let her go without any problems, as he thought that his protective techniques would help his wife return home safely. But what was his surprise and his horror when, instead of a big smile that made him smile back, he saw the absence of a lower jaw and huge bites all over his body.

–She's… dead, Satoru.

Shoko said these words in her usual voice without emotion, but Gojo heard the young woman falter. That was the last thing Satoru remembered. The great sorcerer sobbed like a small child, refusing to let go of the eaten hand of his beloved woman until the time came for her burning.

He couldn't watch her body being burned. He almost threw up several times. He visited the urn with her ashes almost every day, prayed and cried, cursing himself and feeling incredibly disgusted with himself.

He would like to die in her place. After so many years of marriage, he hated himself for all the humiliations he made her go through. And even though (Y/N) tried to assure him that everything was fine, he could see in her sad eyes that she was still a little hurt and scared, although now Satoru would rather kill himself than hurt and harm her.

The most beautiful smile that could exist in the world flashed before his eyes, which had already begun to close. In reality, he felt small, cold hands touching his hands.

–Sa-toru. Do you know what I want for this Christmas? Please, let's have a baby.

If he hadn't been so weak, if he hadn't made so many mistakes… he would be happy now. He would be sitting in his huge luxury apartment, playing with a child sitting on his lap. Would it be a son? Or a daughter? He would love his child and spoil him like a little god! He would be the same noisy father who drags himself to every event, embarrasses his child and forces judges and classroom teachers to slap their faces with the palm of their hand. His child would be the most fashionable and popular, the most beautiful and cute, the most wonderful!.. Because it would be his child and his (Y/N).

But none of this has ever happened and will never happen. They didn't even have time to try. After that conversation, Satoru once said that his child would be strong because he would be his father. Then his wife reminded him of her own strength, they argued, she went on that mission… and after that she never breathed again.

Gojo involuntarily spat out blood on his chest and felt the ring on the thread hanging on his chest getting dirty in the red liquid. The only thing that allowed him not to go crazy in the box was this very ring, which he twisted in his fingers with tears in his eyes. He promised that he would win for his wife's sake… and in the end he lost.

Satoru closed his eyes and tried to smile, but instead only a few lonely tears rolled down his cheek. How he would like to fix everything. How he would like his friends and acquaintances to be alive. How he would like his wife to laugh at his joke now and try to take away his cinnamon bun. How he would like to hear the first laugh of his child, who will never be born again…

Gojo closed his eyes and died with chest pain. He wouldn't care if he was cut into small pieces. What his brain showed him before he died is much more painful than any attack.

*+*

Did Satoru think he would ever open his eyes again? Oh, no. When he heard the voices, he wanted to finally be in a beautiful nothingness, finally to see his wife and his friends. If he has been reborn, he is going to go and find a way to return to his dead body and die accordingly.

However, he still had to open his eyes, because the voice seemed too familiar. Satoru opened his snow-white eyelashes and stared in awe in front of him.

He remembers this particular moment perfectly. After that, his future wife ran on a dangerous mission to prove that she was not weak. Shoko had to work hard to get her back to a stable condition. It was after this that Gojo entered the infirmary for the first time, only to laugh at the victim.

–Satoru! What are you doing?!

–S… Suguru?..

– Behave yourself! She's a freshman like the rest of us! I understand that you are some kind of heir and think that you are the strongest, but this does not give you the right to humiliate others!

–And even more so to cause them pain! (Y/N)-san, how are you? –Shoko hugged the sobbing girl to her and patted her on the head. – Does it hurt anywhere? This jerk pushed you hard, so if you feel pain somewhere, just tell me!

Satoru could burst into tears right now. His hands were shaking, he was about to faint… No, he can't! He must hold on! And if, after he closes his eyes for a long time, all this disappears? No! He is ready to stay awake all his life, if only it would turn out to be a reality!

Gojo rushed forward, and two sorcerers prepared to defend the weak girl, but the teenager easily pushed them away. (Y/N) screamed and tried to cover herself with her hands, but instead of hitting her, she was wrapped in a strong and warm embrace, which for some reason seemed remotely familiar to her.

Something small and cold fell on her half-naked neck. Weeping. Under the shocked looks of future friends, Satoru hugged her harder and whispered:

–I swear… this time I will really be the strongest and protect us all. I promise.

[whiskawaybelf]

Little bit of the next chapter of Ink and Water, easing into some backstory and some silly childhood chats.

Ao3 link

“So you’re a wine connoisseur out of spite?”

Éomer dried his hands and came back to sit, Éowyn beat him to the couch and sent him to the armchair. 

“Out of necessity. Rohirrim would have gone under if we didn’t retain our staff.”

“I didn’t realise you helped too. I thought it was just Théodred manning the fort.”

“It was both of them,” Éowyn sighed, she reached for the joint and came to standing, not happy to talk about her family without a little assistance, “They were gone all the time, never talked about anything else. It was the worst three years of my life.”

Lottie saw Éomer’s face. He was very still and his lips pressed together. He looked like someone bracing himself for a crash. 

“Boys and their cars. I can’t believe you sell cars for six figures. You’re basically the bourgeoisie.”

“I’m not the fucking bourgousie,” Wynn snapped, resisting the distraction for only a fraction of a second.

“You are the nouveau riche, coming to topple my aristocracy of old money.”

“It doesn’t help that you’re a duchess. You’re just asking for the guillotine.”

Éomer frowned as he watched them speak a language he didn’t know. Something to ease the transition from dangerous to here. She redirected naturally, she gave Éowyn a path to follow that didn’t lead to those three years. He was incredibly grateful. 

Lottie came back to him. Or rather she invited him back in, “My dad always wanted a Rohirrim car, the one with the... leather? Do they all have leather interiors?" brother and sister nodded like she might be an alien, learning the very basics of luxury cars on earth, she huffed, "They are shockingly expensive. Entirely impractical.” 

“How much practicality do you need? Your dad makes instruments. That's inherently impractical,” Éomer tried to start and she was protesting before he even finished.

“No. My dad manufactures the best instruments. And music is practical. It’s one of the very first things humans did together.”

“Don’t argue with her. You’re already in danger of getting kicked out,” Éowyn wore a fondly pained expression, this was a conversation they’d had a lot and she couldn’t seem to tell Lottie enough times how boring she found it. Each time Lottie would begin and Éowyn would refuse to listen, she wouldn’t believe her roommate roped another person into talking about her father’s instruments and the essential humanity of music. 

“We will continue this later,” Éomer said with his hands up, “When I’m in less danger.”

Wynn sat on their front step and lit up the joint, “I hope you love learning about the history of music. I sure did.”

Lottie ignored them both, she was right and they all knew it. Music was a heartbeat, everyone also knew that, “You know, if we could fit a piano, we would have a piano.”

“A six figure piano?”

“To make up for the zeros I lost on my paycheck. It seems fair,” she took the smoke and tried to make a ring. She didn’t know why she tried, she’d never made one before, but it would have been very cool if this was her first time, “I have us sorted for munchies.”

“A famous croissant?”

“Not practical but delicious.”

Éowyn cheers-ed to that and they began their second pass, the neighbours must be fuming. 

“Tell me about Wynn,” she turned to Éomer, “I want to hear all the childhood stories. The embarrassing ones first.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing to say,” he said and Wynn began to laugh at the smoothly bullshit tone he used, “She was pretty perfect. The perfect sister.”

“I can tell you all sorts of embarrassing things, if Éomer can’t think of anything,” Éowyn drank out of her nice wine. Lottie could see Éomer watching her, wishing she wouldn’t ruin the nice wine with weed smoke. Now it was just alcohol juice. 

“Actually, I’ve remembered some now. Do you know why she doesn’t drive?”

“Because she’s shit at it.”

“Yes, but no. She took one of the cars out for a joyride when she got her licence-”

“Fuck off, Éomer!”

“-and crashed it. A hundred k, gone. And all she got was a few stitches and whiplash.”

[femmmie]

What comes next

Anthony and Ian get it on, @lilac-hecox gave me this idea. But ofc I had to make it angsty. Sorry!

Anthony was horny. He was always horny around Ian. Even at his least horny, he was at least a little horny when they were together. But right now, his dong pressed against his pants uncomfortably. Luckily, he was having a great time.

Ian and Anthony were writing. The new sketch was really coming along. Looking at Ian, it seemed to Anthony like he was radiating, glowing with creativity. It was incredible to witness. And as much as it pained him, he had to tone down the more edgy - and therefore funnier - jokes. He would love to see what a truly unchained, unhinged sketch by Ian would look like.

"And then Courtney will say, ohh but I just drank all this delicious mommy milk, I'm not sure if I can handle more." Ian made a duck face and put his index finger on his lower lip, turned around and stuck his ass out at Anthony.

Anthony fidgeted in his office chair. They were at his house, his home office. His damn dick wouldn't chill out and his best friend looked more delicious every day. Of course, in the old days, there had been the many instances Ian had made innuendos and Anthony had called his bluff. Most of the time, Ian would retreat, but when they would be particularly high, he would go further, and further, and before they knew it they would be naked in Anthony's bed. They were regrettably sober today.

"Ian, I would scream laugh if I saw this, but I wouldn't be able to because YouTube would have blocked the video and deleted our channel."

"I know, I just wanted to see your reaction. That look on your face, like you have right now, it's priceless." Ian grinned.

"Oh, shut up. I tell you, you have a nice butt and you work it into every single joke today," Anthony looked at Ian's body, so curvy and inviting...

"If you got it, flaunt it!" Ian retorted and did a goofy fucking dance, making Anthony super annoyed and turned on.

"Ugh, lunch break."

"Alright... but you're into it!"

They sat down at the kitchen table, having what could only be described as a very LA lunch. Gluten-free, vegan bagels with avocado spread. Anthony was still fidgeting, changing the way he sat constantly. Ian looked at him while chewing on his bagel.

"Ohkay, cut it out. What's the matter, my guy?"

"Well, Ian," Anthony began. Dare he admit the truth? Anthony shut his eyes for a brief moment and remembered what he'd learned in therapy.

"Well... Ever since we've gotten back together, I... have noticed how good you look.. and how I would absolutely destroy that bussy." In his last sentence, he used just a little bit of comedy in his intonation, but he meant it absolutely serious.

"Dude, I've seen you looking," Ian responded, a small smile on his face while chewing food and talking at the same time.

"You want it, don't you?"

Ian swallowed his bite and stood up, turned around, and twerked.

"In front of MY salad?!" Anthony protested, pleased with himself. Ian kept twerking, and Anthony just grabbed his butt, held it tightly, and said: "That's quite enough, mister Hecox." He squeezed and almost nutted in his pants.

"Do you want me to put a baby in you?"

"Ew no?"

"I mean my semen, dumbass"

"Ohhh, in that case, yeah."

Anthony gave Ian's ass-cheeks a slap and pulled down his pants.

"Why do you think I keep showing you my ass? I want you to fuck me already! We haven't done it since we've reconciled, it's been too long, damnit."

"You're so willing, aren't you?"

They walked towards Anthony's bedroom but landed on the couch.

"Fuck, have you grown since then? A.. argh yes, oh please be gentle.."

"It has been too damn long. Argh, I need this so badly!"

Anthony saw Ian's hole, his thick ass, though maybe not as thick as before, and he couldn't help but go in full speed.

"Ahh, OH! Anthony..."

"I will, I will."

Anthony slowed down. "You're doing great. Please just breathe in and out, okay? I'm going in fully now."

"Ian I'm gonna come already, you turn me on so much, more than anyone... IAN!!"

Sweat dripped along Anthony's temples, down his chin, on top of Ian's beautiful back.

"Thank you..."

He slid out of Ian, and they walked to the shower to clean up.

"Hey, what's up?"

Anthony was looking down, lip quivering.

"I.. I'm just so frustrated. Why is the best sex in the world, with YOU, not a fertile kind of sex? Why can't we have kids together..."

Ian took Anthony's face in his hand and looked into his caramel eyes.

"Hey, I understand that feeling. But truly, even if I could have children, I wouldn't."

"Why not? Wouldn't our kids be so cute?"

"That they would, you're right. Come here."

They embraced, and Anthony let his tears stream freely, for they were being washed away by the shower. This feeling was very important to acknowledge, he thought, for it showed him what he wanted in life. He wanted a family. And he wanted Ian to be part of it. How that would look like, he didn't know yet, but he would figure it out, as he always did.

Ian was already back on his bullshit, flaunting his ass while drying off.

"I hope you're ready for another round!" Anthony teased

[thedrarrylibrarian]

I've been so excited about this month's Happy Hour guest because I enjoy her writing so very much. I first fell in love with @drarrily-we-row-along's writing during her 100 Drarry Drabbles in 100 Days. Short fics are sometimes hard to set a scene for, or hard to give good plot for, but I remember racing through each of her drabbles, feeling like I never wanted them to end because each bite sized piece of writing was so good! Most recently, I've been enjoying her contributions for @hdcandyheartsfest. It feels like every day in February I get to read something new and wonderful from @drarrily-we-row-along and I love it!

One of the things that I've learned about writers is that they are often readers, so it's always one of my greatest joys to get to peek into what one of my favorite fic writers is reading herself. Here's our wonderful February Happy Hour guest rec from @drarrily-we-row-along!

Hello friends! I was super excited, and very honored, to be asked to be the guest for Happy Hour in February. I love this blog and have read *so many* incredible fics that have been recced here! I’ve actually been reading quite a bit lately (so many beautiful fics that have brought me a great deal of joy) so it was really tricky to pick just one!

I ended up deciding on Fire Meet Gasoline by @lettersbyelise.

Fire Meet Gasoline by @lettersbyelise (62,600 words, rated E)

When Draco’s anger management issues land him in St Mungo’s, he thinks his Quidditch career is over. But Harry, A&E Healer and notorious workaholic, is faced with a similar predicament. To save their jobs, the two of them decide to fake a relationship. All they have to do is convince their friends and employers… and not fall in love in the process. Simple, right?

This fic.

It hit me right in the solar plexus. I read this fic back in the middle of January (read: devoured this fic- I couldn’t put it down once I started) and it’s been lingering in the corners of my subconscious ever since. This fic is really beautiful and honest; both Harry and Draco are incredibly flawed, wounded people and reading about their healing is immensely satisfying.

Also, it’s a fake-relationship fic which is always it for me. Give me all of the casual intimacy of a couple and all of the angst of a slow burn wrapped in one delicious fic. I’m obsessed with the rules they make in the beginning and the rules they break along the way. I’m a sucker for the ‘idiots to lovers’ tag, for the way that both of them feel they aren’t worthy of the other, that they could never be loved in return. *chef’s kiss*

(An important side note: Their relationships with their friends are beautiful and heartwarming in so many ways. Their respective found-families and the unconditional love they receive from them hit me in the feels repeatedly. I fell in love with Snaffles, and the version of Scorpius in this fic owns my entire heart.)

But most importantly for me, Harry and Draco in this fic are written absolutely perfectly in their imperfections.

Fics that deal with trauma in a realistic (and sometimes painful way) are my favorite and I love the look into both of their psyches in this story. Draco is so very much himself in this fic; he’s strong and he’s brilliant, he’s sarcastic and devastating; he’s all of the things that make reading about Draco such a delight. The way that he articulates himself, the way that he holds his boundaries, the way that he keeps everyone at an arm’s length, the way he feels about himself when he’s at his most honest; I’m undone. And Harry! Harry’s flaws and woundedness are absolutely, stunningly believable. I would read all day about a workaholic Harry Potter, who can never measure up to impossibly high standards that he’s set for himself because of childhood trauma. He’s a gorgeously flawed character, who seems to be trying very hard not to actually find himself and not to deal with all of his own hurt. Frankly, there were times that I had to take several deep breaths and blink back tears when I was reading about Harry because some of it hit just a little too close to home and the words were so poignant and touching.

This fic is beautiful from start to finish, I hope that you click the link and give yourself a treat. By the end you might just find that this beautiful fic has not only healed something within our lovely boys, but within your own heart as well.

Thank you again to @drarrily-we-row-along for this brilliant rec and thoughtful review! Thanks for joining us in the library!

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Lots of Love and Happy Friday!

[queerworldtravelers]

Hawaiʻi Island

19° 44' 30'' N, 155° 50' 39” W

Hawaiʻi called us home from Palermo. Zach and Melissa, two folks Mary set up on a Fall Equinox just as the reins of the pandemic were loosening, called while we were in the Ballarò and asked if Mary would be the officiant for their wedding. The Universe had orchestrated our return and we set our sights on Volcano September 22, 2023. It seemed like a lifetime away and yet came so quickly. 

We returned, amazed at how short a 5 hour flight seems now in comparison. When you first step off of the plane in Hawaiʻi the air wraps her arms around you adding moisture to your dry skin and filling your nose with the perfume of a thousand flowers. The complexities of the mainland are cast away immediately as the airport windows often don’t even have glass. 

Amma, an Indian Hindu spiritual leader, says “In this universe, it is love that binds everything together.” We were gifted with a beautiful reminder of the depth and power of love in Volcano as we stood at the base of an ancient koa tree, a part of the celebration for two folks who match each other like water and a river. Their hearts extended a welcome home we will forever be grateful for. 

Home. Home is in our hearts. Time away makes the dragon fruit sweeter, the shoreline memorizing, and reminds us of the reverence for the secrets of this land. We knew upon our return that we could not stay. Friends asked if we came back just to say goodbye and we believe there never really is a goodbye. Just a see you later. Next time. Traveling the world helped us to see that we have places and spaces left to grow. Expansion that needs to happen in partnership with exploration. 

It is a blessing to be seen clearly by others who have also set out in pursuit of this expansion. Dear Rishia blessed us with kimonos from her collections. A woman with a deep sense of adventure who insists on using the nice dishes every day and wearing the kimono because it is beautiful and should be enjoyed. Yes. Use the good stuff today because tomorrow is not promised. 

The greatest part of coming home is getting to see all of our old friends! They came from near and far to see us and we were beyond excited to spend time with Kapā and her whole family! We had homemade pizza nights, the best breakfast spread, and a driving adventure. 

The hale we called home had a righteous kitchen set up and Mary was a baking queen! We ate so much bread and it was all super delicious. We also shared a lot of bread! Given our short stay in Hawaiʻi we opted not to get a rental car because the cost was absolutely bananas. Thankfully, lots of folks let us borrow their cars! One of our bread delivery adventures took us through the mountain coffee farm roads and the car we were borrowing definitely was not cut out for the uphill climb. Good thing we have strong legs! After a bit of a ruckus between the two of us (the walk was literally straight uphill) we made our way to deliver fresh bread to Lei and Jerry at Kupaianaha.

We also made our way to Oʻahu (thank you Ben and Tori!) to visit our absolute favorite small human! The views were stunning, the coffee incredible, and the whiskey was top notch! The holidays were on their way and our evening was filled with santa skepticism and epic tree decorating with an indoor snowball fight. 

Back in our little village of Volcano we took the decorative picnic basket out for a test drive. There is truly no better picnic sidekick than Molly, the mail goddess! Molly checked our mail the whole time we were gone and she also makes the best picnic salads! 

It is a good time to mention that a year of travel would not have been possible without the support of a giant and incredible network of folks. Heading home to spend time with them all was the greatest blessing. It was also a painful reminder that we still have a lot of traveling left to do. Hawaiʻi Island will always be home and as we write this 30 million cubic meters of lava are intruding just up the mountain side of where we were married. It is possible in the coming days that the place where we stood in the persistent face of the east wind will be covered forever by a new layer of Earth. 

We are getting sentimental. Admittedly, this blog post has been a hard one to write because each image is our hearts. The people we love and who have loved us. 

On to more adventure! Volcano gets cold and the boys (Chris and Eric) have the most amazing fireplace. We needed more firewood! That, my friends, is when the magic happened. In exchange for a joyous day of wood chopping - with an automatic chopper - we were gifted an absolute ton of firewood! Thank you Kevin and Kathy! We have been on many adventures with Zach that were sort of….dangerous. We are here to report that Melissa, his new bride, brings a level of safety and precaution we can all be grateful for! 

In Hawaiʻi you always see the folks you know. We were gifted with an Ihop breakfast with Keala, an airport run in with Uncle Chad, and early mornings at the Volcano Farmers Market filled with all of the folks we love to pieces. 

Not a single moment of this would have been possible without the unbelievable generosity of Chris and Eric. They provided us a place to call home for the time we were in Hawaiʻi and we are forever grateful. In fact, we not so secretly hope they will come with us to Sicily and remodel a palazzo because they have unmatched style, attention to detail, and incredible cooking accoutrement! Each day we were surrounded by mountains of love and laughter. Upon our return from Oʻahu Chris surprised us by setting up a Christmas tree and Krystal sat staring at the tree in total disbelief for days. Home truly is where your heart is surrounded by your dearest friends and quirky dogs. 

Willingness to let others in and share what is real brings gifts to our path that we could never imagine. Near our final days we were blessed with a visit from Krystal’s dear friend Kim and her family. We don’t have words to end this blog post, so we will share some of Kim’s stunning writing: “Adventure opens the senses and forces one to LIVE. But all that living (and confronting) of LIFE can be painful. To feel, to exist, wide open… is wild and brave. So go gently into your freedom and may you continue to discover love’s mysteries along the way. 

We love you!

[call-sign-shark]

Powerful and so beautiful addition to your Heart, Body and Soul's universe, Reb.

You already know my profound love for the scene between Nina and her mother, who is cutting figs for her daughter while talking about the place of women in the Ferrante family... So obviously this very sweet memory made my day. The idea of taking an insignificant detail such as the biscuits and giving it a full-depth meaning is brilliant. So clever I almost squealed while reading THE SUMMARY.

If the biscuits make Tommy's mouth water I can't even imagine how delicious they must be. 🤭 Also this is such a touching and intimate part "And somewhere deep inside of him, he was glad he was getting to slowly unravel her night after night, talk after talk, discovering the hidden parts she seemed to hide from everyone else. It felt like a privilege." There's something undeniably raw, realistic, and comforting in their slow burn. I know we're slowly reaching the end of the quiet phase of the story, but the calmness of their nightly meeting means the world. It's as if everything fades aways, as if everything was fake and the only constant of this reality was them, the tea and the biscuits.

"She wasn’t getting any younger, after all, and the things she once used to do with great ease were turning out to be rather tiring tasks. But at the same time, her heart clenched at the thought that Nina felt so out of place with the girls her age that she preferred to spend her time inside." Can you stop it? How do you make your writing feel so REAL and... Melancolic at the same time? Maybe it's completely personal and I might project a bit too much of myself in her, but wow. It takes my breath away each time. And the tiny details such as the grandmother's wrinkled hands, or her Nina's micro facial expressions are *chief's kiss*. It's fascinating (as well as painful) to see that she has always felt like a misfit. Always been out of place, contrary to the other girls of her age/family. "Because Nina was good, and the world wasn’t kind, and she would find out way too soon." This. This is the core of Nina. I think she experiences every emotions intensely, hence her bluntness and fiery nature. And this is utterly fascinating.

“They say I’m dark and weird,” No, you're the best and most precious little thing ever and I love you so much 🥹

The ending is pure tragic poetry, Reb. I don't even have words for this. "A useless mask, because pretending not to care about anything didn’t make the pain any less real. She had butchered that little girl, and reserved her no mercy. If her grandmother were still there, would she still think she was the sun?" I have to quote the entire passage because phewwww we can feel how heavy everything weights on poor Nina. I sincerely feel for her, no wonder why she's always wary and trying to pass off for an emotionless person. She's trying to protect herself so hard -- I swear if Tommy hurts her.. :')))))

Incredible, as always Reb!! You ain't one of my fave writers for nothing 🖤

Of Biscuits and Memories || Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: During one of their nightly talks, Nina shares with Tommy way more than just biscuits as old memories rise to the surface.

Warnings: mentions of loss of a loved one, no proofreading, English is not my first language.

A/N: written for @look-at-the-soul ‘s grandma’s series. Again, this was such a beautiful way to honour your grandma, and I’m sorry I’m so late🤍

Nina is the OC from my ongoing Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul. This takes place somewhere between chapter 4 and 5. It can be read as a standalone. It’s also linked to this moodboard and this post.

Word count: 1.1k

Read CH. 6 HERE.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers credits

“Here.” A plate full of biscuits was put on the table in front of Tommy with a thud, the inviting smell immediately filling his nostrils. “Try them.”

Tommy’s lips slightly curled up at one corner, and once again he couldn’t resist the temptation to tease her. Putting on his most serious expression, he squinted his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”

In the dim light of the kitchen, a glimpse of mischief shone in Nina’s dark eyes as a grin threatened to make its way on her face. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”

A chuckle escaped Tommy’s lips as he shook his head. They looked delicious, he had to admit. And even though he’d never been a big eater, observing the biscuits he couldn’t help but feel his mouth almost water. Eventually, he grabbed one of the biscuits to take a bite. The pastry easily crunched between his teeth, contrasting with the sweet cherry jam that melted on his tongue. They were delicious. And Nina must’ve noticed the appreciation in his expression, because a smug smile appeared on her face.

“They’re good.”

“It’s my grandma’s recipe. She used to make them all the time, when I was a child,” she explained, her gaze softening at the memory.

When Tommy had met her two weeks prior, Nina hadn’t seemed to him the kind of woman who would make heart-shaped biscuits in her free time. But he had soon realised there were a lot of things he didn’t know about her. And somewhere deep inside of him, he was glad he was getting to slowly unravel her night after night, talk after talk, discovering the hidden parts she seemed to hide from everyone else. It felt like a privilege.

“Tell me about her.”

12 years before

“Can you make them heart-shaped?” the ten-year-old chirped, resting her head on her hands while her legs swung back and forth under the table.

Casting a fake scolding look at her granddaughter, Anna Ferrante poured some flour on the table. “Wouldn’t you rather play with your cousins?”

Nina glanced out of the window, a sad expression crossing her face for a mere second as she watched the other girls chasing each other, their laughter echoing in the big garden. “No,” she shook her head, seemingly recomposing herself. “I’d rather stay with you.”

She brought her gaze back on her grandmother, and observed her wrinkled hands skilfully work the dough. She had always enjoyed watching her cook and bake. There was something hypnotising in the way she added and mixed the ingredients, taking simple elements to give them another shape and create something entirely new. It was as if she was pouring her whole soul into it every time. “Why did you put the flour on the table?” she furrowed her brows.

“So the dough won’t stick to it,” the old woman patiently explained, rolling out the pastry with a rolling pin. “You want to help me?” she asked her granddaughter, handing her a small glass to cut the dough.

Nina’s eyes shone with delight and a big smile lit up her features, showing two dimples at the corner of her lips. Happy to be useful in some way, she quickly grabbed the glass.

“Watch first,” her grandma said before starting to form the first biscuit. “You can use a little spoon to carve a heart inside the dough, after you’ve shaped it. But don’t press too hard,” she instructed, showing her step by step what she was supposed to do. When she was done, she placed the biscuit on a baking pan. “We’ll put the jam when they’re out of the oven, they’re better like that.”

Taking the task seriously, Nina started to carefully shape the biscuits under her grandma’s watchful gaze, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Anna Ferrante took advantage of her granddaughter’s help to slow down. She wasn’t getting any younger, after all, and the things she once used to do with great ease were turning out to be rather tiring tasks. But at the same time, her heart clenched at the thought that Nina felt so out of place with the girls her age that she preferred to spend her time inside. And although her eyesight had lost its sharpness under the weight of the years, she wasn’t blind. Her blurred pupils could perfectly see how much of an outcast she was in her own family.

She was a special child. She had a sweetness to her, a sensitivity that couldn’t be described as anything else but disarming. And it scared her as just as much as it amazed her. Because Nina was good, and the world wasn’t kind, and she would find out way too soon.

“Maybe when we’re done you can go play with your cousins,” the older woman tried again, not wanting to think that her granddaughter actually wished to be on her own.

“They say I’m dark and weird,” Nina shrugged, as if to shake away those words. But then some emotion crossed her eyes, as if doubt was slowly taking root in her mind, and she stopped what she was doing to look up at her. “Do you think I am?”

Anna Ferrante’s lips curved in a sad smile as she shook her head in negation. But watching her granddaughter’s doubtful expression, she was hit by the awareness that she saw and noticed way more than she let on. Without saying a word, she took a napkin and wiped some flour off the child’s nose. Too sensitive, too smart for her own good.

“You’re not weird. And you’re not dark,” she said, looking right in the little girl’s eyes. “You are the sun, Nina. Don’t forget that.”

“Well, it’s gotten late,” Nina spoke after a moment of silence, looking at the clock on the wall. Until then, she had never talked about her grandmother, the pain of her loss had always been too strong for her to even name her. But it wasn’t pain she had felt, while remembering things she had buried deep inside her mind. It was gratefulness. Because she had known her and loved her, and she had been loved by her. Nothing could take that away from her, not even death.

However, there was another kind of grief that kept on raising to the surface, no matter how hard she tried to push it back down. Sometimes she mourned the little girl she used to be. That little girl was not afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve. She was not afraid to be soft. She did not hide herself behind a mask of indifference. A useless mask, because pretending not to care about anything didn’t make the pain any less real. She had butchered that little girl, and reserved her no mercy.

If her grandmother were still there, would she still think she was the sun?

Heart, Body and Soul tag list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4 @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse @citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @red-riding-wood

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[treatpeoplewithfanfiction]

Strawberries and Memories

Harry Styles x F!Reader 

Rating: Allowed for minors.

Words: 0,7k

Warnings: none, just some fluff for today 

Author comments: hello, my beautiful people! Happy new year! This was a request from a reader who’s missing summer and I hope everyone like it! English isn’t my first language, so please, be kind. To join my taglist, send me a message via ask. 

Although you knew it was cold, you were naive to think that in the middle of December leaving home early wearing just a thin cold sweater to spend the whole day outside would warm you up enough. You body hurt, your fingers were stiff and your teeth chattered, and although you weren’t that bothered by the cold, it made you miss summer days, specially the last ones, where you and Harry had spent the most incredible afternoons ever under the sun and in the ocean water. You sighed as you remembered that even though you forgot using sunscreen on the last day at the beach, making you both back home burned and sensitive. Those days were deliciously unforgettable.

You took your phone off the pocket and walking back to the office after lunch, you typed a few words to your man: 

“babe, I'm missing those days at the beach, remember? just haven’t decided what I miss more... If it’s the heat (I mean, seriously? what was I thinking when I left home with no warm clothes?) or just cuddling up with you without worring about anything else in life.” 

And you couldn’t help smiling as you read the reply:

“Message from Harold 💕: back home asap to cuddle up a little, then I heat you up and we solve both of your problems.” 

(...)

The day had just fallen and you returned home on the subway while thinking about the week in Eroda Islands, and how you would give it all up for the heat of that day. Then you unlocked the phone screen and went straight to your photos, looking for a specific one: Harry with his lips in a straw drinking coconut water. That was one of the ones you liked the most, and not only of the trip, but of him himself. His gaze was calm and his face seemed rested. You were a little surprised he didn’t answer your last messages. At that time of day he was always online, but you figured he might be busy with something else or still behind the wheel, late to get home. You didn’t mind so much. In fact you just wanted to get home soon, put on some proper clothes, and plant yourself in front of the fireplace until take roots.

Leaving the station, you faced the wet, freezing wind from the street and damn, you could have sworn you could remember times you cut yourself with a kitchen knife or fell off your bike and felt less pain than at that moment. As you walked down the two or three blocks from the station to your house you hummed something to distract yourself, making you think a little less about the shivering under the wrong clothe you had chosen to wear.

When you got home you saw that Harry's car was at the garage, which was strange because he rarely failed to answer your messages when he was home. Anyway, you grabbed the keys from your pocket, and as you opened the door you felt a strong thermal shock, stronger than you imagined. You went inside, already feeling much better from the temperature inside, but… Why on earth would Harry leave the air conditioning on at such that high temperature?

“Baby? I’m home, you in?” you asked, curious to know what he might be up to.

“Yup, babe, in the kitchen.” You heard his voice answer.

Almost there, you saw him appear at the door, in shorts and barefoot, his hair messy, basically reproducing the picture you had seen earlier, which he knew you liked so much. He was holding a coconut in his hands, with a straw, and smiling, happy to see you. He came up to kiss you, and gosh, you loved that feeling when you smiled and felt him smiling between the kiss. Releasing his lips from yours he looked at you tenderly and pulled you by the hand into the kitchen so that you could see several fruits, all chopped up, just waiting for you. He took the bowl of fruit and said:

“Honey, I just didn’t have time to get the beach, okay? But the cuddling part…” he paused slightly, putting a strawberry in your mouth. “We can work that one out right now.”

Your eyes sparkled and you couldn’t help but giggle and kiss him as you realized what he had done, unable to believe how lucky you were to have Harry by your side, and happy to know that that weekend would probably be as precious in your memories as the last hot summer days.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update

what's up gamers, the odds are very slim that I'll be finishing another book before November is over, so let's do a roundup! I've you've been following me literally at all you probably saw me reblog my public shame TBR list at some point, and now we get the #reviews.

what have I been reading?

Histories of the Transgender Child (Jules Gill-Peterson, 2018) - this book is a really incredible piece of historical research, exploring the existence of transgender and gender non-conforming children in the first half of the 21st century. Gill-Peterson threads a great needle of both laying out ways in which trans identity and specifically trans youth were understood in the early decades of trans healthcare, establishing that young transgender people are in no way a modern phenomenon, while also making the strong case that trans youth have been able to exist without complication or medical intervention throughout American history. It's an engrossing medical history, and I would say intensely valuable to anyone who has a vested interest in protecting trans kids' right to autonomy and joy.

Batman: Bruce Wayne - Murderer? (Greg Rucka et al, 2002) - this, to me, is peak Batfamily content. everyone is miserable and nobody is communicating about it because they're all too depressed and bitchy. Bruce gets accused of murder and sent to prison and he decides the only reasonable thing to do is break out and never be Bruce Wayne again, with seemingly no concern about how horrific the consequences will be for his family as long as he gets to keep being Batman. the dysfunction is... fucking delicious. cannot WAIT to read Bruce Wayne: Fugitive, I must know how Brucie baby gets himself out of this one. also, hey, have I mentioned that I miss Babs as Oracle every single day? god, she's just... she's so much cooler as Oracle.

Alive at the End of the World (Saeed Jones, 2022) - Jones is so so so so so so SO good at writing layers of pain and hurt into his poetry. the imagery of apocalypse and protest is infinitely striking, and I was particularly shaken by the recurring series within the book that ended each segment, in which Jones finds himself in his apartment after a reading speaking with a doppelganger who turns out to be his own personified pain. chills!!!! CHILLS!!!!

Elatsoe (Darcie Little Badger, 2020) - I wanted to make a point of reading something a little lighter, because we've been a little #heavy lately, and Little Badger's debut YA novel was perfect for that. while Elatsoe isn't what I'd call flawless - in particular, I have to say that the main characters seem VERY young for 17 year olds, feeling more like middle readers protagonists in most ways - it's an extremely charming book with a lot of really cool ideas. the world is one very like ours but suffused with mythology; ghosts, vampires, and fairies are well-known facts of life integrated seamlessly into the story. it's very cool to see an urban fantasy where the protagonist's parents are totally in on the supernatural and fully supportive of the teen sleuthing without any sketchy ulterior motivations, and I think the tidbit that Lipan folks are able to banish vampires for coming into their home - the entirety of their ancestral lands - without an invitation is one of the coolest twists on vampire lore I've ever seen.

Nature Poem (Tommy Pico, 2017) - I LOVE Tommy Pico's epic poetry (that's a literary term, not an outdated compliment), and I read Nature Poem in what I believe is the way that was intended: all in one evening, still wearing a cute little bodycon dress, glitter, and fishnets after a Halloween party, a little tipsy. as always Pico's voice is impeccable, dry and witty and observant and so, so tired of so much bullshit. the preoccupation of this poem is the idea of nature, specifically writing a poem about it, and Pico's railing against the idea that white poets can write countless poems about nature and only be seen as writing a poem, while he, as a Kumeyaay man, can't write a poem about nature without it being seen as a woo woo magical Native American thing. but it's not just that; no Pico poem is every just one thing, but a smart and circling conversation to drive a point home. I still don't know if I'm liking poetry right but man I know I love Tommy Pico.

The Trouble With Normal: Sex, Politics, and the Ethics of Queer Life (Michael Warner, 1999) - full disclosure: I ordered this book in a feverish haze after it was recommended at a conference by a speaker who was so stupid hot that I nearly had a panic attack about it. we don't have time to unpack all that, but I will say that this was as eye-opening a read as nearly all historical queer texts are. the two things that jumped out at me most were 1.) Warner's well-written argument against the concept of marriage as a whole, with the then-ongoing fight for gay marriage necessarily included, and 2.) the scathing critiques of gay individuals who throw ~weird sexual deviant~ gays under the bus to further their own social standing. INSANE that that's still topical in 2022; can't wait to be quoting a 20+ year old book at people when the kink @ pride discourse starts in 2023.

A Dowry of Blood (S.T. Gibson, 2021) - that's right, it's the TikTok book about Dracula's brides being in a polycule! I figured with a description like that this was either going to be pretty good or bad in fun and interesting ways, and I wasn't disappointed at all. Dowry was a fast, fun read, with a heavy gothy ambiance all the way through. it carries more weight than expected by depicting Dracula himself as a surprisingly realistic abusive partner, a boyfriend from hell who keeps his partners on short leashes with a thinly-veiled threat of death if they ever displease him. if you like your vampires depressed, horny, and wrapped up in deeply unhealthy psychosexual mindgames you will LOVE this.

Into the Riverlands (Nghi Vo, 2022) - this is the latest novella in Vo's Singing Hills Cycle, which I cannot recommend enough to anyone. I didn't initially adore this entry quite as much as When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain or Empress of Salt and Fortune, I think because it felt less immersive. the Singing Hills Cycle tells stories within stories, framed by a cleric named Chih travelling to gather stories across the fictional kingdom in which they live. the first two novellas were much more immersive in their storytelling, and I think I missed having that in Into the Riverlands, but there was a certain reveal near the end that cast the whole thing in a very different light and made me like the setup a lot more. it's also worth noting that given the way this novella deals with larger-than-life martial artists and the way their legends are distorted across time, it reminded me VERY much of The Girl Who Kept Winter - a spectacularly fun read, one that I can't recommend enough.

The World We Make (N.K. Jemisin, 2022) - god DAMN, N.K. Jemisin! I was a little unsure about The City We Became, willing to rank it as my least favorite of Jemisin's books, but the sequel really knocked by socks off. I could hardly put it down, and I'm sad to see the duology ended already - if I'm being totally honest I think this book could easily have been fleshed into two for a trilogy, given how much capital-p-Plot is introduced, but I also really respect how much story Jemisin was able to so slicky introduce and resolve in under 400 pages here. on the whole this is a thriving, fast, fist-pumping love letter to New York City and the power of community in the face of all kinds of evil, and one of the few sequels I feel completely confident calling better than the original.

[doctorstethoscope]

A Direct Order (18+) || A. Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hello my loves! I hope those of you that had a long weekend were able to enjoy it :). Combining two similar requests for this one! 

Submit your requests here!

from @all-hallows-reid (which has maybe deactivated?? I can’t find u bestie):  How about fem!reader secretly dating Aaron (with a twelve year age gap). She takes a stupid risk and almost gets hurt. Suffice it to say he’s not happy, and punishes her accordingly on the jet or when they get home.

and from @mrandmrshotchner:  Disobeying a direct order and Hotch punishing reader for it

I hope you both love this one!! 

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Sir kink, spanking, praise kink, degradation kink, penetrative sex.

wordcount: 2.2k

“I see the girl,” you whispered into your comms device from the back row of pews at a church in Mittburn, Iowa, nearly 200 miles away from where this child abduction case had started. “He’s concealing a hand behind her, could be a weapon,” you relayed to the team. The church was mostly empty, the service having ended. A few parishioners and the priest were still milling around, and your unsub, Phillip Rishi, was leading seven-year-old Abigail Torres to the altar. 

“Agent, do not engage-- Rishi is devolving and we don’t know what he’ll do. Wait for backup.” You heard Hotch, although you wished you hadn’t. 

Technically, you wouldn’t be breaking a rule if you got up and followed Rishi a little more closely-- and Aaron didn’t have eyes on you, anyways. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. So you slipped out of the pew, kept your head facing mournfully towards the ground, and knelt at the altar, Rishi and the girl to your left. He still had her in front of him, concealing her with his body-- so you couldn’t get a good look at her, to make sure she was okay. You made a half-assed attempt at praying, hoping you were fooling the people around you when you tilted your head at a flash of light-- Rishi had a knife, was tracing the planes of the young girl’s cheekbones, and she was crying.

You gasped, quickly diving across the altar and forcing Rishi off of Abigail. He thrashed as Abigail screamed and ran into the arms of the priest. You wrestled Rishi to the ground, pulling the knife out of his hand and tossing it out of his reach before cuffing him and reading him his Miranda rights. 

As you stood back up, you turned around and noticed Hotch bursting through the door, his face making it perfectly clear that he had heard everything that had gone down through his comms. Oh, man. You were totally fucked.

Aaron asks if you’re okay, which you are, and then the two of you don’t speak. You don’t speak on the jet ride home, you don’t speak as you drive the FBI SUVs back to Quantico, and you don’t speak at the office before you leave for the night. 

You last for all of an hour after leaving the office before you can’t take it anymore. You throw your go bag in your car and take off towards Aaron’s place, walking up to his door and knocking before you can talk yourself out of it. He looks surprised to see you, but doesn’t ask you to leave, which you take as a win. 

“I’m here for my punishment,” you tell him as you slip past him into the apartment, and he rolls his eyes-- not his typical, “my young, playful, sexy girlfriend is driving me crazy” eye roll, but a genuinely disdainful “this young girl is too much to handle” kind of an eye roll. A pang of something you don’t recognize flashes in your chest-- guilt? Betrayal? You push it aside-- that wasn’t what you came here to do. “We’re not the couple that doesn’t talk. If you want to yell, you can yell, but we don’t shut each other out. That’s not us. So go ahead and get it out so we can move past it,” you attempt to sound cool and aloof, even if you are feeling a little vulnerable and desperate. 

   “You disobeyed a direct order,” Hotch says. 

“I did,” you agreed. 

“What, and you don’t even have an issue with it?” He asks you, his tone harsh. 

“He had a weapon, Hotch. And it was drawn on a little girl. What was I supposed to do?” You shot back.

“You were supposed to wait for backup. We hadn’t profiled that he would hurt her,” he tells you, the strain of contained rage in his tone.

“Is that a chance you would have taken? Is it a chance you would have wanted someone to take if it was your son?”

“It’s not a chance I would have taken-- but I can’t take chances with you, either,” he admits, and his confession hangs in the air for a moment. You realize this is his way of telling you how much he cares about you-- walls too high to be truly vulnerable, he has to shroud his disclosure in an argument. “You could have been hurt,” he tells you.

“I could have,” you agreed. “But I’m here, with you, and I’m okay,” you remind him, stepping closer to him, taking his hands in your own to ground him, remind him that everything had turned out okay this time. 

It takes a beat, but Aaron responds in kind, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer, and crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You smile into the kiss, letting Aaron lead you backwards towards his bedroom as you wind your fingers in his hair, letting your forearms rest on his shoulders. 

“Were you serious about your punishment?” Aaron asks, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a growl, and you smile. 

“Yes, sir.”

You can feel the air shift in an instant, as Aaron sits at the edge of his bed. “Come on, then. Over my knee,” he tells you impatiently, and you feel a rush of warmth in your core as you move to comply. He stops you. “Pants off. Panties too,” he tells you, and you strip from the waist down before climbing across his lap. He lays his hand against your ass and you feel goosebumps form against his tender touch. 

“I think five is fair-- do you think five is fair, angel?” He asks, pulling your head up by the hair so you can look him in the eye. 

“Yes sir,” you agree-- he always asked before engaging in any sort of impact play, never wanted to give you more than you could handle, and you appreciated it-- even if five did seem like it would be a walk in the park. 

He lands a swift spank against your bare ass cheek and you feel it flood your center almost immediately. “One. Thank you for my spanking, Sir,” you let out almost as if it were a reflex. 

“Good girl,” he encourages you, rubbing at the tender flesh before his hand comes down against the opposite cheek.

“Two, thank you for punishing me, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, angel. Just a few more,” he encourages you, his sweet words a direct contrast to the sharp pain of his hand coming back down against you. 

“Three, thank you Sir.” 

“You belong to me, kitten. I need you to take good care of what’s mine, that’s all,” he reminds you with another spank. 

“Four, thank you Sir. Thank you for taking good care of what’s yours,” you affirm, and he delivers your last spank. 

“Five, thank you Sir,” you breathed out as your hips rocked, incredibly turned on before he had even truly touched you.

Aaron wrapped his arms around you, moving to hold you close for a moment. “There, sweet girl. I need you to help me to take good care of you-- you are very special. It’s my job to make sure nothing happens to you, but I need your help, okay?” 

“Yes, sir,” you tell him, reaching out to hold his face in your hands. 

“Good. Color?” 

“Green, sir.” 

He nods, permission granted to continue, shifting to help you off his lap and onto the bed. “Ass up, slut,” he commands gruffly, and by now you’re certain that you’re dripping down your thighs. You’d find out soon enough, you supposed, as you leaned onto your elbows and knees, raising yourself into a kneeling position, legs spread for Aaron. You heard, rather than saw, Aaron disrobing, which only added to your arousal. 

You feel the mattress dip as Aaron pulls himself up behind you. 

“Oh angel, you’re dripping. Nasty whore,” he smirks, sticking one finger inside of you, but withdrawing it immediately when you rolled against him. “Ah, ah.” he warns you. “Don’t try that again.”

So you hold still, as he pumps one and then two fingers in and out of you. You moan, cry out, beg for more-- but you don’t move.

“Sir, please,” you pant.

“You can move, sweet girl,” he grants you permission, and you start rocking your hips into his fingers immediately, wantonly, letting out a moan that makes Aaron’s cock twitch painfully. You shift your weight onto one elbow, moving one hand towards your center, which Aaron bats out of the way, slapping your swollen clit. 

“Fuck!” you cry out. 

“I said you could move. I didn’t say anything about touching, slut. Don’t make me tie you up, too.” He warns you. 

Half of you hoped that he would, but you were already desperate to cum and you didn’t know how much more you could take. You doubled down on your thrusts into Aaron’s hand, whimpering and panting the whole way. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, Aaron pulled his hand out of you, and you whimpered. 

“Sir,” you said weakly. You hadn’t been expecting that, and you wanted to cum so bad you thought you might cry. 

“Ah ah. What do you say?” He asks. 

“Thank you. Thank you for edging me, Sir,” you panted out, still coming down from your near-miss. 

“That’s my good little whore,” he cooed out. “I want you to ask permission tonight, angel. Color?”

“Green, sir.” You affirmed. “I won’t cum until you give me permission.

“Good, angel, good,” he said, lazily rubbing at your clit, and you whimpered. You’d never come like this, but you’d get increasingly more frustrated. “And why do you need to wait for permission?’ 

“Because I’m Sir’s dirty little whore,” you moaned out, the words turning you on even more as you attempted to grind down on Aaron’s hand. 

“That’s right, good girl,” he said, stepping away from you. “All fours, my love,” he tells you, and you roll up to your knees and elbows. You hear a foil wrapper tear, and without warning Aaron is stretching you. It feels delicious, makes you heady, and you cry out as he starts thrusting in and out of you. 

“You make me feel so good, sweet girl. You’re such a good girl, taking me so well and making such pretty noises. Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes sir, you make me feel so good,” you affirm, the words coming out in a shaky breath. After a few moments, you feel the coil begin to wind up inside of you. 

“Sir, may I please cum?” You ask. 

“No, not yet.” He answers simply, like you’d asked him if it had started to rain, or if dinner was ready. 

“Please, sir. Please, please let me cum,” you begged. 

“Not. Yet,” he affirmed, leaning forward to paw at your clit, which caused you to cry out. “Are you going to thank me?” Aaron asks, but you’re too overwhelmed to understand the question. “Are you going to thank me when I make you come?” He asks. 

“Yes, sir, please please make me come.” 

“Go ahead, angel,” he tells you, and the rubber band snaps. 

“Thank you sir, thank you, thank you, thank you,” you scream as you buck against him. He guides you through your orgasm, gently brings you back to reality once the pleasure has subsided, holding you gently and whispering words of encouragement in your ear. 

“I have to clean you up, sweet girl. Is it okay if I get up, or do you need me to stay here a little while longer? It’s okay if you do. You did such an amazing job,” he assures you, and you nod. 

“I’m okay, hon. Bring back water, please? And maybe some fruit snacks.” 

He rolls his eyes at you, again, but it’s the endearing kind again, and you smile. The two of you would be okay.

After he cleans you up, you head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and snuggle back into his arms as soon as you're back in bed.

“I was so scared, and I still had to be your boss, first, and I hate that,” Aaron tells you. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” you tell him, shifting so that you’re facing him. “It’s something we should talk about-- me transferring.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You’re not changing your career path for me,” he is quick to correct you. 

“What did you mean, then?” You asked. Surely he wasn’t thinking of stepping down?

“Well, I was hoping… that you might want to tell the team about us? I don’t want to rush you, so if it’s a no, that’s fine and I won’t bring it up again. I understand the professional risks are--” you cut him off with a kiss. 

“I only suggested it because I thought you wouldn’t want people to know.” You tell him. 

“Why wouldn’t I want the team to know how much I love you?” He asks, and you smile. Yeah, the two of you would be okay.  

  tagging: : @bauhousewife @just-a-fangirl-xd @angelic-kisses13 @sleepyreaderreads @ssamorganhotchner @wolviesbbeslrblg @xyzhoneybee@choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides@itsmytimetoodream @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar @scuttling  

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Allurement: The Mad Lover

Warning- Detailed Smut, semi-public smut. A lot of complex, contradictory thoughts and emotions.

Seven days. Seven days and a half to be precise. It took Namjoon only seven and a half days to barge into his and (Y/N)’s shared office. She had ignored all his texts, all his calls, even redirected his official calls to Mr Min after all. He looked dishevelled and she could not bring herself to show even an ounce of sympathy. If anything, she had to bite down the victorious smirk itching to bloom.

Because she knew that he deserved it after leaving her feeling miserable and a prisoner.

“I thought you would not be back until next month.”

“You find it funny? You fucking find it funny?” he roared, the floor of their office remained relatively empty. Not everyone could step in there without permission after all.

His face had darkened ad his eyes were raging, and it would be a lie to say that it did not make her afraid. But she did not let it show, she never would again. Because now she knew that if she was to survive, she must not show fear and weakness. Not even in front of the one man she knew would protect her, regardless of his reasons and his madness.

“I am merely surprised.” at her reply, his eyes darkened as he marched towards her.

“You fucking drive me mad!” he growled before his lips crashed on hers, his arms rounded her waist and pulled her closer, one hand went up to her hair, fisting it while he deepened the kiss.

The kiss was from a man starved, and maybe he was starved. Involuntarily, it lit a spark on her pride, gave a flare to her ego, how he melted like that, how desperate his touch and lips felt all over her. His warmth draped over her, his body flushed against her made her feel his heartbeat thundering against his ribs. Her heart picked up pace as well. Especially when he picked her up and sat her over his clean desk. His lips never detached from hers. His lips were addictive, as they had always been.

And though (Y/N) resented herself for admitting, she had missed him too. But it was also relieving. Odd.

**Smut**

His fingers busied themselves in getting rid of her blouse, his other hand rode up her pencil skirt. His fingers felt cold against her burning heat and the moment he yanked down her undy and touched, she felt the sparks flow, he had never failed to make her feel the intense pleasure churning through her, whether she wanted or not. It was incredibly toxic, she knew it, she could sense it. But (Y/N) had no way out. And since she had no way out, it would only be a fool’s adventure to try to fight against the system she was clearly powerless in.

Namjoon was a meticulous man, both inside and outside the bedroom, and he possessed the incredible patience for that. But this time he seemed particularly impatient, it was not the first time that he had shown impatience, but there was wild desperation hanging behind it. And she enjoyed it thoroughly.

His fingers slipped inside with ease as she held him tighter. The digits knew her inside out, he knew her like the back of his hand. The movement felt intense and the quick pace only added to the rising heat. They curled up inside her so perfectly, aligning with the right spots to elicit a slow moan from her lips that was swallowed by his hungry ones.

It had begun to feel surreal, the world around, the motifs, the beliefs, the pain ebbing away, it was only the rough motion of his fingers, the fierce heat of his tethering love and the blinding pleasure or climaxing around his fingers buried deep in her core, making her toes curl and her inner walls clench around his two long digits.

The unmistakable sound of his unbuckling belt made her patience wane. His hand slid up her skirt to her waist and before she knew it, his fingers were gone and the delicious stretch of his manhood invaded her senses and dominated her thoughts, inch by inch as he groaned into her ear. The feeling of fullness made her realise that she might have just missed him a little bit, especially in the mornings. She had grown used to his warmth, his touch, even though sometimes, she had turned away from him, finding his touch almost repulsive.

It was a curious fusion of emotions, complex yet laid-out in front of her, but intense nevertheless. Intense and intimidating.

There was a bubble of bliss that encompassed both of them as he thrust into her, she did not even remember when she had laid on on his desk, her hair hanging from the other side, like her face as he pushed into her sweet spot repeatedly, the feeling of folded paper, the cold surface of files fallen from the pile due to the repeated jerk and the wooden desk, the pen that had rolled under her back, it all helped her to keep herself grounded, to never forget where they were and how the scene must be utter filth in anyone’s eyes. Kim Namjoon fucking his secretary, the same secretary who had a ring on her finger.

Only if they knew the truth.

“I love you, shit! T-There is no on-e but you, we had fucking separate rooms!” he explained in between the rhythmic rocking of their hips, she would have rolled her eyes had she not had them shut in pure ecstasy.

So she only sighed, tired but satisfied of a sigh, but that was it.

“And you fucking ignore me like that! Driving me fucking mad.” his heavy breathing fanned her neck, but she only let a breathless laugh, wrapping her legs around his waist

“A-aren’t you already?” in response, she only received the grazing of his teeth on her skin before he bit her, earning a whimper

“I have always been mad for you, Darling, you were just too naive to see it. Like to see my unhinged side as well?”

No, never.

Even the mention of it sent shivers down her spine, withering her confidence, she did not wish to see that side of his ever, she had gotten a taste a few times, she would never want to swallow it whole.

The rich, deep sound of his chuckle was felt in her neck, his lips still peppering kisses “Not so bold now, are we?” his hand slid inside her blouse and cupped her clothed breast while his other hand reached for her nub, making her back arch like fish out of water and moan out his name aloud.

Kim Namjoon would never let go of the power and control he possessed over her, he would never set her free. Not easily at least.

“Fuck!” his pace turned sloppy and in no time, she felt his hot release spurting out inside her, she bit hard on her lip to prevent the scream trying to force her mouth open as she fell from the edge of anticipation into a bed of ultimate physical bliss.

**Smut Ends**

And finally, when they both had floated down from the pleasurable high, she fluttered her eyes open to his gentle kiss over her lips.

“I love you, and I would never grow tired of saying this to you.” Namjoon professed for the nth time.

And (Y/N) knew that he was not lying this time. If there was one thing he would never lie about, it would be his love for her. However twisted, mad, smothering and toxic it was, it was truest to its core.

And she hated that.

****

After a while, but here it is. I had realised that I had not written even one scene of office sex between Namjoon and (Y/N). How could I have missed that? THAT? It's a yandere CEO fic, an adult fic, it ought to have office sex scenes.

Please let me know what do you think.

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