#man cut in pieces kept in refrigerator

[forensicfield]

Man is cut into 10 pieces in Delhi by his wife and son.

After Shardhha's case another incident came out as a shocker when men cut in 10 pieces and mother-son started throwing pieces of the body at various places. the said man is abusive and has a tendency to waste money according to the...

#delhimurder

(more…)

[sonarspace]

RAIN, REGRETS, & REDEMPTION. KENTO NANAMI

SYNOPSIS: promises made in the rain often get washed away, leaving echoes of what might have been CONTENT: angst. nsfw. PAIRING: ex-husband! nanami x reader. WC: 2.7k

☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸

it's been over five months since you filed for divorce from nanami. they say it gets easier with time, but it feels like it just gets harder every day. you miss him so much, it’s like a part of you is just gone.

you still remember that day so clearly—pushing him out the door and yelling “get out!” before collapsing on the floor, tears streaming down your face as it hit you that your marriage was really over.

it’s hard not to feel bitter when you think about how his career seemed to take over your whole life. the rare moments of intimacy—only on birthdays and your anniversary—felt more like a formality than real connection. it’s like your entire relationship was reduced to those fleeting moments, leaving you feeling more alone than ever.

the days after were a blur. you tried to stay busy, but every corner of the apartment was haunted by him. the layout of the living room, your habit of leaving your shoes by the door, his favorite mug next to yours in the cabinet, his second pair of glasses on your bedside table—everything was a painful echo of his absence.

what hurt the most was that he didn’t even fight for you. he didn’t fight for your relationship. it ended so abruptly, like a chapter closing with no chance for a rewrite.

so you did what you could to move on. you packed up everything and decided to move out of the apartment, sending his belongings back through his lawyer since you no longer knew where he lived. yet, selfishly, you kept his sweater. it was the only piece of him you allowed yourself to hold onto.

you decide to spend one last night in the apartment you both once shared, before the divorce would be finalized tomorrow. after tomorrow, you'd be free from everything that connected you to him. the place was empty, with nothing left but your mattress on the floor in the bedroom and the refrigerator in the kitchen.

you pull on his sweater, feeling its familiar warmth, and then catch your reflection in the mirror. you can’t help but think how pathetic it all seems. trying to shake off the feeling, you pour yourself a glass of wine. just as you’re about to head out onto the balcony, the doorbell rings, cutting through the quiet of the empty apartment.

you frown, wondering who could be ringing the doorbell at this late hour. when you open the door, your wine glass nearly slips out of your hand. there he is, standing in front of you—the man who caused you so much pain. whom you still can’t help but long for. his messy blond hair is tousled, like he’s been running his hands through it anxiously. his clothes are crumpled, his shirt hanging out of his pants when it’s usually neatly tucked. he’s breathing heavily, as if he’s just ran up twenty flights of stairs to you.

the sight of him, unexpectedly at your door, floods you with a storm of unresolved feelings, making your heart ache with bittersweet emotion.

“elevator’s out of order, huh?” he says, his voice heavy as he catches his breath. you stare at him, struggling to find your words.

“what are you…” you're about to ask, but he cuts you off.

“can i come in?”

you stand there, your feet rooted to the ground. you’ve replayed this moment countless times during your lonely nights, imagining if he’d ever come back, if he’d ask for your forgiveness. now that he's here, the reality of it is almost too surreal.

you’re about to shut the door, the sight of him too much to handle. but he stops it with his foot. “please, baby,” he says softly, and it almost makes you melt. you quickly remind yourself to stay strong. “you don’t get to call me that,” you snap, sounding like a petulant kid even though the endearment tugs at you.

his eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of regret and desperation. “i know you don’t want to see me, but—”

before he can finish, you sigh and step aside. he walks through the door, and the emptiness of the place hits him hard. memories start rushing back—the way you'd run up to him and hug him when he came home from work, the new recipes you’d tried out together in the kitchen, those late nights on the couch where you’d read while he worked on his laptop. his eyes fall on the open bedroom door, spotting the mattress. the nights you spent together, a mess of tangled limbs.

his throat feels tight, and before he knows it, his eyes are filled with tears. you see the look on his face and without thinking, you set the glass down on the kitchen counter and pull him into a hug. he clings to you, holding you like you’re the only thing anchoring him. his knees start to wobble, and he pulls you down with him. you both sink to the wooden floor. his body trembles as he takes in shaky breaths, trying to hold back his sobs.

you press a kiss to his hair like you have countless times before when he sought comfort in your arms. “kento,” you whisper softly, the name feeling heavy on your tongue. “please,” he whispers back, his voice broken and desperate. you know what he's asking for, but it's too late. “you’re too late,” you say, struggling to keep your voice from wavering.

he pulls back from your shoulder. you both gaze into each other's eyes. the unspoken words hang heavy between the two of you. “i’m sorry,” he says in a broken whisper. the words you've been longing to hear for the past five months. the apology should be bringing you some sort of relief, right? but all you feel is guilt. overwhelming guilt which threatens to spill from your eyes. why didn’t you fight harder for both of you? why did you just pin the blame on him and give up after only one attempt?

as if sensing your turmoil, he cups your cheeks and leans his head against yours. “don't even think about blaming yourself,” he murmurs, his voice soft and reassuring. his hands are warm on your cheeks. his warmth seeps into you, pumping your heart. it's too much in the best way. god, you've missed him so much.

“kento,” your voice chokes. he kisses the tears streaming down your cheeks, his lips brushing against your skin with a featherlight touch.

“no more tears,” he says, giving you a sad smile. his thumb gently brushes away the last of your tears. he stands up and offers you his hand. you take your glass of wine as he grabs the bottle and leads you out to the balcony. you both stand under the night sky, covered with heavy clouds with the promise of rain.

you sip your wine silently while he takes a swig directly from the bottle. after a moment, you place your glass on the floor and, without a word, he hands you the bottle. your fingers brush against each other as you pass the bottle back and forth. you somehow find yourselves moving closer.

he turns his head to look at you as your head rests on his shoulder. you’re unsure who makes the first move and you couldn’t care less. your lips brush against each other, both of you hesitant, unsure if you should cross the line or not. you don’t know if it’s the emotions of the night or the alcohol in your system, but before you can think too much about it, you close the gap and press your lips against his.

the bottle slips from his hand and shatters on the floor as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek. his thumb moves under your jaw, tilting it higher to deepen the kiss. he groans into your mouth, and just then, the rain starts. fat, heavy drops fall over both of you as you lose yourself completely in the kiss.

the kiss starts slow and gentle but quickly turns needy and desperate as you both give in to each other. he walks you back into the apartment, blindly shutting the balcony door behind him with the rain muffled outside. he pulls away, breathing heavily, and his hand moves to the hem of your drenched sweater (his). “looks better on you than it did on me,” he smiles tenderly as he notices.

he waits for a moment, his eyes searching yours for permission to remove it. you nod and the sweater is off before you can blink. your pants follow next. you start unbuttoning his shirt as he kisses you again. both of you blindly make your way back to the bedroom. your hands find the waistband of his pants, and as the back of your feet meets the mattress on the floor, you yelp, falling backward and pulling him down with you. the sounds of your chuckles fill the empty apartment.

the room fills with tension as you both quiet down. kento’s finger gently tucks back a strand of hair behind your ear. "i missed hearing that," he murmurs sincerely. before you can respond, he captures your lips. his tongue presses against your lips and you part them, letting him in as the kiss deepens and becomes urgent.

his hands roam over your body with confidence, each caress of his fingers making you gasp against his lips. he cups your breasts, making you arch into him. he pulls back from your lips and trails teasing kisses down your neck and jaw.

he takes a moment to slip off your bra, leaving you just in your panties. seeing the blush spread across your cheeks, he grins. "you're so fucking beautiful," he breathes, his voice hoarse with need.

his hands continue their exploration, setting your skin ablaze. he parts your legs and positions himself between them, his fingers grazing over your thighs, savoring every inch. he takes in a shaky breath as he gazes down at you, reminding him of the first time you were together.

“ken, please,” you whimper, voice trembling with need. he chuckles at your desperation. “patience, my sweet love.” he spreads your legs wider, making you gasp as his tongue presses against your drenched panties. “haven’t even done anything yet, and you’re already so wet?” he asks with a cocky grin.

his eyes flutter closed as the taste of you seeps through the fabric, his nose pressed against you, sending shivers through your body. your hands instinctively find his hair, tugging him closer. his breath is hot, teasing, as his tongue traces the outline of your folds, every lick driving you closer to the edge. unintelligible sounds spill from your lips as your breaths grow heavier.

his fingers slip beneath your panties, grazing where you need him most. he teases you, taking his time, relearning your body, savoring every reaction. when he pushes two fingers inside, he growls low, “so warm, so eager.” your hips buck up, seeking more.

he withdraws his fingers and slides your panties off, his eyes never leaving you as he pumps himself slowly. he watches the way your lips part, how your eyes darken with desire. without breaking his gaze, he slides into you, and you both moan in unison. the stretch is overwhelming, your hands instinctively grip his shoulders as your body arches, shuddering under the intensity.

his lips trail kisses across your collarbones, his breath ragged against your neck. “tell me you missed me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need and vulnerability.

“i missed you so much,” you breathe out. he groans softly at your confession. his lips crash into yours, a messy attempt to kiss as his movements grow more desperate, deeper.

for a moment, the past five months of pain, regret, and loneliness seem to melt away. it’s just the two of you, tangled up and breathless, your bodies slick with sweat and desire.

outside, the rain pounds against the windows, a loud backdrop to the soft, urgent sounds of your carnal needs. the heavy rain against the windows blends with the symphony of your mingled breaths and whispered names.

your moans grow louder as he picks up the pace, your walls clenching and holding onto him he moves in out of you. your senses blur together, the pressure inside you builds fast. that tight coil in your stomach winding impossibly close to snapping. your muscles tense as you edge towards your release.

your nails dig into his back, your body trembling as you feel yourself teetering on the edge. his grip on you tightens like he’s afraid to let go, afraid of losing this moment—or you—all over again.

“i’m sorry,” he chokes out, his voice cracking as he presses his forehead against yours. his thrusts slow but grow deeper, each one filled with a desperation that cuts through the haze of pleasure. “i’m so sorry.”

the words hit you like a wave, and your chest tightens. it’s hard to breathe, your heart torn between the intensity of your orgasm and the pain of remembering everything that brought you here.

but for just this moment, you let yourself drown in both. the pleasure and the ache intertwine, your moans mixed with soft sobs as you finally come undone in his arms.

your body trembles beneath him as you try to catch your breath, still reeling from the intensity of it all. he stays there for a moment, buried deep inside you, holding you like he never wants to let go. his fingers trace your cheek, catching a stray tear, and his lips press against your skin—soft, desperate.

“don’t leave me,” he whispers, voice breaking as he buries his face into your shoulder. his chest heaves, and he pulls back to meet your eyes, pleading.

you can barely breathe, the weight of it all crashing over you. he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering, trembling, like he’s holding on for dear life.

“i should’ve fought for us,” he says, voice cracking under the strain. “i messed up, but it’s not too late. i’ll talk to the lawyers tomorrow—i’ll fix everything.”

his words hang heavy in the air as he kisses you again, slow and tender, like he’s sealing a vow. and despite the conflicting emotions inside you, you let yourself lean into it, into him, just for tonight.

when you wake the next morning, the light filtering in through the curtains, you feel his warmth still pressed against you. for a brief moment, you think it’s a dream—one of those bittersweet fantasies you’d had over the last few months.

but then you feel his arms tighten, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck. “good morning,” his voice gruff.

“i’ll talk to the lawyers today,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing. “i’ll make it right.” you give him a sleepy smile and he chuckles fondly. you hear him moving around quietly—getting dressed, gathering his things. “i’ll be back soon,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “we’ll figure it out.”

the morning is gray, the skies still heavy from last night’s rain. you hear the sound of his car pulling away, hoping when you wake up next, this will all be over. but when you do, it’s not the sound of him coming back that wakes you—it’s the phone ringing.

the roads were slick, the rain turning everything into a slippery danger. they say he didn’t see the other car coming, didn’t have time to react. your heart sinks as you hear the fragments of the message: “accident,” “wet roads,” “collision.”

the phone drops from your trembling hand. the world around you blurs as you fall to the floor.

you rush to the hospital, your mind racing. when you finally get to the icu, you find him there, motionless but breathing. a rush of relief floods through you as you see the steady rise and fall of his chest.

you sit by his side, gripping his hand tightly. the steady beeping of the monitors fills the silence in the room. you don’t know when he’ll wake up, or if he’ll wake up at all. tears slip silently down your cheeks as you whisper, “i’m here, kento. i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”

☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸

A/N: product of me listening to pink in the night on repeat for the past two days. likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[searchingforplanes]

All that I do is wait for you.

Notes: I’m a feminist but not when it comes to Matty Healy, clearly. On a more serious note, I wanted to participate in the tag cleanse so, here it is! 

P.s. It’s very loosely inspired by 'Batphone' by Arctic Monkeys and 'Wives and lovers' by Jack Jones bc they’ve been on repeat lately

TW: MDNI!, typos (english is not my first language), traditional gender roles/stay at home girlfriend brain rot, religious themes (I don't even know how that happened), smut 

WC: 1.9k 

You wait in silence on the rug of the living room, your back to the couch, your knees drawn up against your chest. Everything about this moment feels appropriate, normal, even comfortable, from the stiffness of your now cold limbs to the slight smell of smoke and ashes coming from the wood stove in the corner, the only light source that you allowed yourself to keep on.

It suits you, an almost hermit-like situation, silence as your only companion in a never ending wait for salvation. 

He had called you several hours prior from an airport located in a warmer country, telling you he was on his way. You knew it. Of course you knew it. You didn't talk much during touring days but you religiously kept track of his schedule, every stop carefully listed by him on a piece of paper now attached with an apple-shaped magnet on the refrigerator door. Little boxes accompanied each one of them for you to cross; today, the last little square was ticked off.

You recall the first time you had to welcome him home after such a long time. You had felt lost. Did he need anything? A ride from the airport, a warm meal, a new set of lingerie to rip off of you? You had pondered his return so much that your mind had started to suggest you had chosen a life that couldn't belong to you. Sooner or later, you had thought, he would have realized your inadequacy to fill the spot beside him at dinners or at the pub, to fill his house, to fill the rest of his life with, maybe even his grave in the family chapel up north. Concerns, heavy like lead, had crowded your head to the point you felt the ground underneath you flex under the weight. 

First times are often embarrassing, sweet or clumsy, but the first time he had returned home to you it just felt… wrong, like you couldn’t provide him with an appropriate welcome. The echo of his footsteps around the house had felt chastising and more similar to the sound of whip to the one of your lover's return. 

You had spoken to him about it some time later, explaining the lack of purpose you felt laying there, waiting for him to rescue you instead of welcoming him, and he, of course, had told you not to worry, and that 'he wasn't a soldier, he was just doing his job like a normal human being'.

While you trusted him, you realized that the former suggestion resonated with you in a way that you couldn't quite comprehend at first. Maybe it was distasteful to think about his absence that way, considering that greed and gluttony would be the only real threats to his well being while on tour, but the lack of him made you feel like a military widow nonetheless. In a way, you were sharing him with an entire nation, multiple ones even, all waiting for him to offer guidance to his community. The parallel probably didn't make any sense, but it gave you a purpose.

That's why a cherry tart was in the fridge, Nick Drake was softly singing from the record player and you were now sitting facing the windows with wet hair and red lipstick on, waiting for him to turn up. A silly little routine maybe, but comforting, something that generations of awaiting women before you probably had done, the anxiety of being nice and put together for the man you love.

Suddenly your train of thought is cut off at the shower of light that fills the room. It's a sudden flash, the rays filtering through the blinds and painting your face striped before the glow of his low beams curves slightly and then dies on the driveway, replaced by a quick splash of orange. 

You could recognize it anywhere.

It's like experiencing the beginning of the universe, like discovering that life exists outside these four walls, a big bang happening just outside the windows, giving you a world to finally live in. You slowly get up, counting down the twenty seconds it will take for your Adam to reach his garden of Eden. 

His silhouette finally fills the glass door frame, standing straight to watch yours behind the frosted barrier. He pushes the handle and finally he’s in front of you, the first man to ever exist. It’s routine now, his hand coming behind your back to push you towards him and then coming to your waist, grabbing at the fabric of your white nightgown and crinkling it with his tan fingers, the other hand still on the handle, his lips coming down to leave a butterfly-weighted kiss at the corner of your upper lip, the gesture so delicate it could have been the night breeze. 

Soon you’re in bed, the white cotton covering you giving the appearance of innocence, contrasting widely with the man kneeled at the foot of the mattress. He looks like sex personified. He has discarded his shirt on his way to the bedroom, following the flowy nightgown up the stairs, and he is now unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other keeping your foot in place, caressing the ankle with his middle finger. Without the support of the leather strip his dress pants fall just a little lower on his hips, gracing you with the spectacle of his ‘v’ shaped abdomen and his rose tattoo. You don’t dare move just yet, enjoying the way he naturally takes the lead. He unbuttons his slacks, standing up to undress himself completely, half-lidded eyes never leaving your figure. He then crawls over, lifting the nightgown just above your belly button, littering your stomach with small, wet kisses, lingering on your pelvis before crashing his tongue flat against your cunt. He caresses your thighs while he eats you out, slowly lifting your legs to circle his head with, clamping around his ears, the tips of his fingers barely grazing upon the skin, agonizingly ticklish. He slowly trails two of his fingers down and into you, curling into your sweet spot with surgical precision while his lips suck on your clit with unrelenting eagerness. You are panting furiously, swears cascading off your lips with ease and mixing with pleads of his name but he suddenly stops, raising his head just enough so that his breath is still teasing your core.

‘You need you to be a little bit louder princess, I can’t hear your sweet moans with the way you’re crushing my skull’ 

You desperately nod, anything to have him back there and, just as a little aid, you slide your legs down to his throat, choking him slightly and eliciting a deep groan out of him. He instantly resumes with flickers of his tongue, making sure to maintain eye contact with you while you reach your high again. You cross your ankles on his back,tightening the grip around him and cutting his blood flow just a tad more; he takes the hint, increasing the rhythm of his fingers until you’re cumming on his face, completely enveloping him for good with your limbs, his name reverberating in the air like a sinful litany. 

He climbs your body in a couple of swift moves and now you’re face to face, his wet, swollen lips brushing yours, his breath hot against your cheeks. He looks quite a state. Unruly curls, sunken cheekbones, a rosy flush across his neck.

‘Welcome back, baby’

He chuckles darkly, his erection twitching against your thigh, pressing into your flesh through his boxer in search of relief. You slide your hand across his chest, almost feeling his ribs. You’d love to tear him apart just to count them, just to make sure that you haven’t dreamt it: there’s a missing one. God, if he exists, made you out of it, out of him. Maybe that’s why you’re always trying to be as close as possible to one another.

He does just so, after peeling the last piece of clothing off himself, sliding inside of you like he hadn’t left in the first place. He starts moving slowly, standing a little straighter to watch you squirm and whine.

‘What’s wrong baby? Do you want me to stop?’ He coos. He knows exactly what you want, the condescending tone not helping your situation. 

‘Need- need to feel you better’

‘Is that so, princess? Did I make you too wet? Let you make it up to you, yeah?’

He finally undresses you completely, crumpling the nightgown in his hands, bottoming out completely and wiping your cunt, the friction causing a small moan out of you. 

When he finally thrusts into you again, the burn is so delicious you can feel your eyes roll into your skull.

‘Is that better baby? You’re such a dirty fuck doll, so eager for this dick that you want it to feel it split you open’

You choke out a broken moan, fire licking up your limbs and feeding the warm feeling in your lower stomach.

‘Answer me princess, don’t be shy’

‘Y-Yeah I am Matty, fuck’

His thrusts get faster as a way to reward you, the effort making his smirk fade in favour of a much more fucked out expression. He’s on the edge as much as you. You can feel the pleasure reaching an impossible level of tightness in your stomach and you grab his forearm with your hand  in anticipation, fingernails planting into his tattoos. 

‘Keep looking at me when you cum on my cock kitten’ 

Matty’s request sounds more like an order you can barely follow when your orgasm actually hits you, eyelids fluttering and hands scratching his tense back, your legs twitching like a shock wave had just hit you. Matty does his best to ground you, his hands keeping your hips glued to the mattress while he keeps fucking into you. 

‘Matty you can’t anymore, ‘m too overstimulated’

He coos at you, sweetly condescending, your whispered pleas almost amusing him.

‘Yes you can, baby. Just a bit more, okay? I’ll cum with you, promise’

You nod your head the best you can, feeling the tension starting to rise again when he starts to gently rub at your clit with his thumb, leaning to cover your cheeks with small kisses that contrast with his frantic thrusts.

‘Where do you want me, princess?’

It’s a rhetorical question, you both know it, but you don’t seem to be able to answer him. Even with your mouth agape, air isn’t filling your lungs, and you can only trust him to understand you when you trail a hand down to your lower stomach, resting it on the spot where you can feel the head of his cock hitting. 

He smirks down at you, his expression scrunching up a second later when he feels you clenching around him. 

‘I’ll fill you up good, kitten, don’t worry about it, you just have to let go. Wanna feel you milking my cock for what it’s worth’ 

His words finally make you crumble a second time, tears brimming your eyes while he fucks you through your orgasm until he is on the brink too, admiring your fucked out expression before releasing inside of you. 

He rolls off of you, his arms coming to cradle your head while you try to regain your breathing rhythm. 

‘I’m never gonna leave again’

You chuckle and slap his heaving chest.

‘You will, but I’ll wait for you. All that I do is wait for you.’

[fountainpenguin]

"Though we both know one day there'll be blood on the floor... but which one will betray the other more?" (x)

New Fairly OddParents 'fic today!

Rated T - 6,900 words

50 Words of Dale and Vicky

📖 Read on FFN || Read on AO3

🌃 City Lights AU

✨ More Fairly OddParents 'fics

🎲 Randomlists.com's 50-word generator

50 scene snippets about two inseparable BFFs and a string of bad decisions. Predates lemon pit torture.

OR, Dale and Vicky were friends when they were kids.

(First 5 prompts under the cut)

50 Words of Dale and Vicky Friday August 14th, 1992 - Friday April 14th, 1995 Summer of the Pink Star - Spring of the Small Sunflower

1. Balance

Even Dad raised an eyebrow at the redhead who took the mutton bustin' like a piece of sticky tape. The sheep charged through the Dimmsdale Dimmadome's mucky arena, the girl thumping up and down on its back. With every second she clung, the crowd surged higher and higher with excitement- cheering already! Did she sew her sleeves to its wool or something? 6-year-old Dale, safe behind the chute fence, braced his arms a little straighter; craned his neck a little higher.

"Whoa… She's cruisin' like a roadrunner."

One flump of a small body later, the little girl went tumbling through the muck. But she won, of course (and scored the traditional belt buckle emblem plus a set of 4 family tickets to Wave 'N Rage to prove it). The girl cheered into Dad's microphone and jumped up and down. Watching some black-haired woman and a redheaded guy (who must be her two parents) fawn over her, Dale had to wonder… if she had any siblings.

That was wicked…

Her name was Vicky Aingeal. And he was about to be the best friend she never asked for.

2. Cattle

The next time he saw her, it was at the state fair. The scruffy scarlet ponytail hadn't changed. She wolfed down a funnel cake at a table, her parents to either side (and sharing their own). Powdered sugar smeared her lips and fingers. That stuff had to be so greasy… but it looked delicious. Dale, who had already been a Bright Young Man and a Very Well-Behaved Good Boy (semi-interchangeably) for the past 5 minutes while his dad talked about cows and bovine and steer and heifers with Mr. So-'N-So (Cue laughter; they were friends), decided he'd finished standing in the hot sun, bouncing on his toes. He darted his gaze between Vicky and the back of his dad's head. Another 20 seconds flickered by. This time, Dale's stomach even growled. And if that wasn't a sign, what was?

"Dad-"

Dad didn't stop talking, but he did move his hand to Dale's shoulder and gave a quiet squeeze. Not now, said the gesture, so Dale went quiet. He played with the big brim of his hat, staring at Vicky and her funnel cake until she stopped eating and raised her head. Their eyes flicked across each other. Dale jumped and glanced away. Back to the cattle. The Dimmadomes showed fat and healthy cows every year at… the cow-showing event. "Open dairy," Dad called it with his friends (SO awesome; all fancy). Dale never remembered the name except this time of year, but he definitely knew cows.

"Dad," Dale tried again. But dad kept talking, squeezing his arm again, so Dale went quiet for real and softly picked at his nose. The grown-ups talked cows, milk, and hormones… And when that all wrapped up, Doug scooped him up and set him on his hip in one shwoop.

"Now, what's all the fuss, son? What's got your knickknack paddy whacking?"

"Dad, I want a funnel cake."

Doug Dimmadome (owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome) threw an unreadable glance at the table where Vicky and her parents ate. It might've been unreadable because Dale was only 6. "Too risky, kiddo. It's probably got dairy. Now come on, son- You wanna lead the herd with me?"

3. Instrument

"Huh," was the first thing Vicky said when she came across the refrigerated butter sculpture. Seriously? Three giant cows playing in a band? "Pretty weird." It was a huge amount of butter and that was kinda impressive all in all, but… did it serve any purpose? It wouldn't last. Who would want to keep that thing cold for months? Even winter wouldn't get cold enough to not melt it. She looked for a price tag, a card- anything that indicated it might be for sale. Was this thing just donated? Free of charge? I wouldn't want it either, but that feels like a waste. I'm sure SOMEONE would buy it. Some kind of stupid, rich…

She was still there, leaning so close to the clear case, her nose could've touched the nearest instrument, when someone tapped her shoulder. She yelped, hit the case (with her face), and spun around. "Who-? … Oh." That weird kid who'd been staring at her while she ate lunch. When Vicky blinked at him, he pushed the brim of his big hat up with one thumb. He even smiled.

"I saw you at the mutton bustin'."

"The what?"

"You rode the sheep? Most people don't stay on that long."

"Oh, yeah. That sheep was a loser."

The kid blinked, like he actually cared about some random sheep's feelings or something. Honestly, with a name like mutton bustin', whoever was in charge of that thing probably cooked it up and ate it by now. "Well," said the kid, pretty slow on the word. He put out his hand. "I'm Dale… Donovan. And you're Vicky, right?"

"Uh, are you following me?"

4. Sheet

He showed her the chicken tent, the pigs, and the cattle (with their parents trailing behind, of course- Dad had a lot of business to talk and Vicky's parents didn't seem to mind he was there, even if Vicky still gave him weird sideways looks like she couldn't decide just what to make of him). But little by little… those shoulders that looked like tall fenceposts started coming down like a gate sinking underwater.

Then he showed her something super interesting over her shoulder while he tore down the sheet with the name Dimmadome scrawled across it. Look… Is it so wrong to want a friend who likes you without asking about your dad getting rich?

He ignored the confused looks the cows shot him as he bunched the paper in his hand.

5. Resonant

Y'know what? There was something REALLY funny about watching the awkward kid jump about 10 feet in the air (skeleton practically leaping from his skin) when a piercing whistle carried through the air.

"Th-that's my dad," Dale stuttered. "I have to go. Um. 'Bye."

Huh. So, did he not like to add the 'good' in 'good-bye' either? Maybe he's more self-aware of the crushing weight of existence than I thought. Not the worst quality in a friend.

Read on FFN || Read on AO3

[bey0nd-1he-stars]

Not right now - Five Hargreeves

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x reader

Word count: 1658

Warnings: crying

Summary: After Five returns back to his family after living in the apocalypse you ask him how he’s doing.

Five stood in front of you, putting the slices of bread for his sandwich on the table before blinking to get some marshmallows from a cupboard. Vanya, Allison stood on the left side of the wooden table, Diego and Luther on the other side while Klaus had opted for placing himself on top of said table. You were sitting on a chair beside Vanya, your gaze set on Five. His suit was way too big and it wasn't the usual academy uniform, but that was the only signs visible from his disappearance.

"Where did you go?" Diego asked, however he sounded pretty uninterested in the answer. But the question had to be asked, you all knew it. Five, who was getting some marshmallows, didn't miss a beat before he answered.

"The future," his spacial jump back to the table caused a pause in his answer, "it's shit, by the way."

"Called it!"

You rolled your eyes at Klaus but kept your gaze at Five. It was odd seeing him again, and it was even more odd that he hadn't changed a bit since last time. He was still in the same, young body, the same haircut, the same movements as he'd had then. He looked just the same. Just the same as the portrait above the mantel place. But he had another look in his eyes now. Before he'd disappeared, it'd been determination and a will to prove himself. Now it was something else. It was like a gray layer had placed itself upon his green eyes. Like someone who'd been through way more than they should.

Five gave a sight as he continued making his peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, "I should have listened to the old man." He opened the refrigerator to retrieve some peanut butter, "you know, jumping through space is one thing," he threw the refrigerator door shut but it stayed open just a glimpse; he didn't acknowledge it though, "jumping through time is a toss of the dice." He paused and looked up at his siblings, his gaze sliding over all of you before landing on Klaus' attire for the occasion, "nice dress."

Klaus lit up, "oh, well, danke!"

Vanya cut him off at the last second and returned the attention to Five, "Wait, how did you get back?"

"In the end I had to project my conciseness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time."

Diego had his gaze locked on the floor, trying to process whatever the hell Five just had laid out on the table for them. He frowned slightly and shook his head, "that makes no sense."

"Well, it would if you were smarter," Five deadpanned and completely ignored Diego when he quickly stood up, taking offense in Five's answer. Luther quickly held out an arm to stop Diego from doing anything more drastic.

"How long were you there?" Luther still looked as confused as he'd done when they all first entered the kitchen. He'd just been standing there listening to what Five had been saying, trying to get the puzzle pieces to fit together.

"Forty five years. Give or take." Five's answer got both Diego and Luther to sit down, completely taken back by the answer. It clearly wasn't what they'd expected. Neither of you had expected it. And Five spoke so easily about it that it almost irritated you that he didn't take it more seriously. Instead he took it with a peanut butter - marshmallow sandwich and a shrug of his shoulders.

"So what are you saying? That you're fifty eight?" Luther's curiosity and his need to understand everything had started to kick in and you could see that it started to get on his nerves. He explained with his teeth bitten together that "my consciousness is 58. Apparently my body is now thirteen again."

"Wait, how does that even work?" Vanya questioned with a shake off her head. You'd given up on trying to understand how it all fit together. None of you were as smart as Five. You'd never been, and you'll never be. All of you had come to term with that. At least you had. Five had turned away from you when he answered, "Delores kept saying the equations were off," he took a bite out of his sandwich, "bet she's laughing now."

"Delores?" Vanya wondered out loud, but Five ignored her. Instead he looked down at the newspaper where Reginald Hargreaves were on the cover. Or at least the news about his funeral.

"Guess I missed the funeral."

"How'd you know about that?" Luther asked, eyebrows furrowed and a questioning look in his eyes.

"What part of the future do you no understand?" Five deadpanned and looked up at him. You shook your head slightly at the banter, it was just like old days. It was like everything was back to how it was seventeen years ago.

"Heart failure, huh?"

"Yeah- no," Luther quickly changed his mind.

Five clicked his tongue and voiced what you'd been thinking about just seconds before," nice to see nothing's changed." He dropped the newspaper on the table again and started walking away. When he almost made it to the exit, Allison spoke up. She'd been quiet the whole time but reality finally struck her.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" she turned towards him, disappointed when he didn't slow down his determined steps.

"What else is there to say? The circle of life." His steps echoed until they faded away completely. The kitchen got quiet as everyone tried to grasp what had just happened. Allison was the first one to speak up again.

"Well that was.. interesting." Vanya and you nodded in agreement, meeting each other's gazes and silently asking each other what was happening with the world right now.

"I'll go talk to him," Luther decided and stood up to go search for Five. Your gaze snapped to him and you stepped out in front of him when he started making his way to the stairs.

"I'll do it, just, lay low for now," you said quietly. All of you knew that out of everyone you'd been the one with the best connection to Five through the years you'd spent together. Luther opened his mouth to argue with you but you just quietly shook your head at him, silently begging him to stay out of this for once. He raised his hands in surrender and sat back down at the table with the rest of the siblings. You gave him a nod and walked out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to go search for Five.

You found him in his old childhood room. He had changed out of the oversized suit and was back in his old academy attire. The clothes fit him perfectly and it looked like he wasn't a day older than 13. On the bedside table was a prosthetic eyeball, but you decided it would be best not to question it. Five sat on the edge of the bed, arms resting on his knees and his face in his hands. Your light knocking on the half-open door made him look up. A look of distress covered his face and he pulled a hand through his hair.

"What do you want?" he asked quietly. His green eyes met yours and it was as if you could see the memories he'd made while being gone. It all played over and over again in head and looking into his eyes was like watching a movie roll.

"Are you alright?" your voice was soft and the care that it held made Five wince in his seat. He hadn't heard that in a long time it did something to his heart. He was home again, with his family. With you. He pulled at the tie, trying to make it easier to breathe. He shook his head at you.

"Please, leave me alone, I can’t… I can’t take it right now."

Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Take what?" you wondered out loud.

Five looked away from your gaze and loosened the tie. He frustratedly pulled a hand through his dark hair, getting it out of his face, only for it to fall back again. Tears had gathered in his eyes and he picked at his cuticles.

"Being asked if I'm okay."

You sighted softly and walked over the threshold, shutting the door close behind you. Five slid down from his bed and positioned himself on the floor, back resting against the bed and knees pulled up against his chest. Tears fell from his eyes now and he furiously wiped the away, looking away from you to avoid meeting your gaze. You sat down on the floor with him, resting a hand on his arm, your thumb softly stroking across the material of his jacket.

"Hey, Five," you said softly, trying to get him to look at you. Pulling a gentle hand though his hair and softly titling his chin up so you could see his eyes, he finally looked up at you. The care in your eyes and the gentleness you showed him had more tears falling down his cheeks but this time he didn't bother to wipe them away. He let them fall, the cold tears making his cheeks wet and then fell down on his shirt before getting soaked up in the material.

"It's okay, you'll be okay," you mumbled and wrapped your arms around him, gathering him in your embrace. He fell into your arms, letting himself relax in just a few moments before the world was due to end. He gasped for breath, his sharp inhales and shaky exhales were all that could be heard in the room. He clung onto you, holding you close to him as if you would disappear if he didn't hold you close enough.

"You're not alone anymore." That's when he lost it. Those four little words whispered to him against his dark hair was all that it took for him to just let all the walls fall in. He let himself get lost in your comfort and your closeness. The hard floor under you both was making your legs ache and the position was awkward, but Five didn't care. You were here, right beside him again and he would let himself enjoy that as much as he could. You pressed him into you, falling into him just as much as he fell into you. And it was enough for now. Even with his gasping breaths and desperate hold on you, it was enough for now, for this little moment. For these few minutes.

[orthodoxadventure]

The natural dependence of man upon the world was intended to be transformed constantly into communion with God in whom is all life. Man was to be the priest of a eucharist, offering the world to God, and in this offering he was to receive the gift of life. But in the fallen world man does not have the priestly power to do this. His dependence on the world becomes a closed circuit, and his love is deviated form its true direction. He still loves, he is still hungry. He knows he is dependent on that which is beyond him. But his love and his dependence refer only to the world in itself. He does not know that breathing can be communion with God. He does not realize that to eat can be to receive life from God in more than its physical sense. He forgets that the world, its air or its food cannot by themselves bring life, but only as they are received and accepted for God's sake, in God and as bearers of the divine gift of life. By themselves they can produce only the appearance of life.

When we see the world as an end in itself, everything becomes itself a value and consequently loses all value, because only in God is found the meaning (value) of everything, and the world is meaningful only when it is the "sacrament" of God's presence. Things treated merely as things in themselves destroy themselves because only in God have they any life. The world of nature, cut off from the source of life, is a dying world. For one who thinks food in itself is the source of life, eating is communion with the dying world, it is communion with death. Food itself is dead, it is life that has died and it must be kept in refrigerators like a corpse.

For "the wages of sin are death." The life man chose was only the appearance of life. God showed him that he himself had decided to eat bread in a way that would simply return him to the ground from which both he and the bread had been taken: "For dust thou art and into dust shalt thou return." Man lost the eucharistic life, he lost the life of life itself, the power to transform it into Life. He ceased to be the priest of the world and became its slave.

In the story of the Garden this took place in the cool of the day: that is, at night. And Adam, when he left the Garden where life was to have been eucharistic -- an offering of the world in thanksgiving to God -- Adam led the whole world, as it were, into darkness. In one of the beautiful pieces of Byzantine hymnology Adam is pictured sitting outside, facing Paradise, weeping. It is the figure of man himself.

-- Rev. Dr. Alexander Schmemann: For the Life of the World; Sacraments and Orthodoxy

[oftoska]

"hey," moe's on the floor, her feet up on the couch. tipsy, and coming off a high of a good race night - and a mediocre orgasm. that night's entertainment chased off by someone bigger and badder and far too fucking old to be entertaining her. allowing her to steal bacon right off his sandwich and ask him ridiculous questions about his life. "what's your body count? not the murder one, i don't give a fuck about that. the other one. spend a lotta time between people's legs before things went downhill and you got old?" she's SO rude, but there's a smile on her face, and she winks at him after. dragging greasy fingers playfully along the inseam of his pants.

This game they've been playing has gone on for longer than Mal anticipated it would. He figured she'd have gotten bored of him by now, tossed him aside for something more interesting that was around more, easier to use and dispose of just as quickly. He's not questioning it, not at all. Instead he's sitting on the open cushions of her sofa, man-spread like soft butter over hot toast, wolfing down a sandwich made of whatever looked good in her refrigerator. When he'd skulked in she was entertaining some young guy who looked like he needed a roadmap to find the clitoris. The thought made him snort.

He leaned forward when she reached sharp nails for his bacon and let her snipe a piece. For a moment he thought over the question, chewed his food and the answer before swallowing one of them and speaking the other.

"I'unno. Never counted. Lemme think."

Less than most people assumed. More than he gave himself credit for. He was 45 ... carry the one, minus a few that didn't really count ... don't forget the girl in Glasgow, teeth picked at his lower lip while he considered the answer and offered a shrug in response.

"Twenty? Give or take a few?"

It took him a long time to come. Something about his upbringing and the fucked-up connection between intimacy and sexual contact. It wasn't everyone's cup of tea and a lot of times women got bored when they'd had their fun and friction started winning out over lube. He was used to letting them have their ride and finishing off by himself after they left. Or just letting the feeling dissipate in the shower when he was too lazy to make it work.

His knee bounced when she trailed her fingers along his jeans. If his eyes weren't naturally so dark they might have shone something sinister, the glimmer in them surely was a tell.

"S'not easy for me to come. Takes a while. Cut a lot of possible whole deals into oral sex to make it easier. They don't notice when I'm doin' my part."

He plucked another piece of bacon from the sandwich and held it out to her, pinched between his index finger and thumb, near the tease of her lips. The corners of his own raised in slight.

"Whattabout you? How many boys you studdin' out when I'm off doin' wet work?"

He didn't mind that she filled her time with other people. They weren't official, she wasn't his in earnest. When he was gone she was welcome to take anyone she wanted to bed and he wouldn't so much as bat an eye. But when he was back ... that was a different story. He was greedy, never learned to share proper. It was why he kept haunting her home on return trips.

[znewstech]

Another chilling murder in Delhi, woman, son cut man's body into pieces | Delhi News - Times of India

Another chilling murder in Delhi, woman, son cut man’s body into pieces | Delhi News – Times of India

NEW DELHI: A woman and her son were arrested by Delhi Police’s crime branch on Monday for killing a man in Pandav Nagar. “They chopped off the victim’s body into several pieces and kept them in refrigerator,” reported ANI quoting officials. #PandavNagarMurder | Delhi: Visuals of the residence of the accused where they kept the chopped-off body pieces of… https://t.co/cfqmr3KgxV — TOI Delhi…

[squarwell-breakingnews]

Another chilling murder in Delhi, woman, son cut man's body into 22 pieces | Delhi News - Times of India

Another chilling murder in Delhi, woman, son cut man’s body into 22 pieces | Delhi News – Times of India

NEW DELHI: A woman and her son were arrested by Delhi Police’s crime branch on Monday for killing a man in Pandav Nagar. According to officials, the victim has been identified as Anjan Das. “They chopped off the victim’s body into 22 pieces and kept them in a refrigerator,” TV reports quoted officials. #PandavNagarMurder | Delhi: Visuals of the residence of the accused where they kept the…

[blue-eyed-cutiepatootie]

Restless

Destiel ficlet

wc 2k, established relationship, light agnst, fluff

Also on AO3

Cas frequently wishes he still had the ability to exit his vessel and exist without a body; untethered and free from physical sensations. Lately this occurs less often since he and Dean became Dean-and-Cas. He experiences more pleasant physical sensations more often these days.

             Still, sometimes on nights like tonight Cas desperately wishes to be freed from this physical prison. His shoulder aches where it digs into the mattress. Memory foam, his ass. Is his body even the same as the night before? His leg hair catches on the sheets that usually feel so soft. A dull ache pulses in his calves. If he turns to lay on his back his head feels weird. Like it might float away. What is he supposed to do with his hands? The covers are an uncomfortable weight on his toes and his ankles feel brittle. Pins splinter through his kneecaps. One wrong move and he’d shatter to pieces.

Or the right move.

             On the other side of the bed Dean snores softly. His hand kept reaching out to clutch Cas’ shirt every time Cas repositioned. On nights like tonight, he envies how easily Dean settled into their quiet life. Sure, he still has nightmares occasionally but they have dwindled. Now he typically sleeps peacefully through the night. Dean deserves easy.

             Doesn’t Castiel deserve it too?

.             .             .             .             .             .             .              .             .                       

             The sound of Cas’ feet rhythmically hitting the pavement is drowned out by his cellphone ringing, cutting through the night’s noise. He had wanted to let Dean rest so when the discomfort became unbearable, he had carefully rolled away from Dean’s grasp and gone for a run. Two nights ago, he’d tried yoga. Last week he’d tried a hot bath and a glass of wine. Before that, weed. Nothing truly took away the feeling that he didn’t belong in this body. The weed actually heightened it and Cas shudders at the memory.

             Not trusting his voice right now, Cas sends a text saying he’ll be home in ten. At least he’d remembered his phone but he knows he’ll be chewed out the moment he steps onto the porch. Honestly, it was a shitty move on his part. Cas knows Dean’s anxiety spikes when he doesn’t know where Cas is. Sure enough, as he approaches the farmhouse, the porch light is on and a figure gently rocks the porch swing. Cas slows to a walk as he comes to the driveway. The chains clink as Dean stands and walks over to the top of the steps. He’s beautiful with his bedhead and ratty band tee and pizza boxers, the porch light catching the gold in his hair.

             “Cas, what the hell?” Dean’s jaw is set to keep the tears in his eyes. He brings his arms around himself in frustration, in comfort. “No note? No text? I just wake up and you’re gone,” Dean’s voice brakes, “again.”

             He’s shaking in the 80-degree air. “Cas,” he says, “I can’t… you can’t, man.”

             In an instant Cas is up the steps, wrapping his arms around Dean. Dean automatically buries his face in Cas’ neck and clutches at the back of his shirt. “Don’t ever do that again.”

             Cas presses a kiss to Dean’s head and rubs his back soothingly. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ll leave a note next time.” Dean sniffles and clings more tightly.

             They stand like that until the sweat cools on Cas’s neck and he shivers. Dean pulls back and asks, “Why were you out running at 2 A.M. anyway?”

              Cas brings his hand up to Dean’s cheek and brushes away a tear that his t-shirt hadn’t soaked up. “I, um, was feeling restless. I couldn’t sleep because my whole body felt weird. I thought a run might help.”

             “Weird how?”

Cas hesitates.

Dean searches his face and what he sees must worry him because now he is pulling Cas inside the house. “Let’s have some hot chocolate, ok?” Dean says as he leads Cas into the kitchen. Cas stays glued to Dean’s back, suddenly feeling as if he’ll break apart if he isn’t touching Dean.

             Cas is barely paying attention as Dean jostles him around the kitchen, reaching up for the cocoa powder and sugar. He shivers in the refrigerated air as Dean gets the milk. The metal pot rings as Dean places it on a burner. He measures out the cocoa and sugar into the pan, muttering something about cinnamon. The milk is measured out and splashes into the pan. The burner clicks to life and Dean presses a kiss to Cas’ temple. As Dean stirs, the warm smell of chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla fill the room.

             Once they’re seated on the couch nursing their drinks, Dean laces their free hands together and kisses Cas’ knuckles. “Alright, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

Cas keeps his eyes trained on his mug. He knows Dean will understand. They’ve worked on their communication skills over the past few months and Dean rarely lashes out or freezes him out. And when he does, they know how to repair it. Even so, Cas always feels apprehensive at the beginning of these conversations. He can’t seem to shake the memories. He takes a deep breath, squeezes Dean’s hand, and reminds himself that Dean will understand.

“I still have nights where I hate being trapped in a body.”

Dean’s initial reaction is to recoil. Cas, still looking at his hot chocolate, feels Dean withdraw a fraction of an inch. Then he adjusts his grip on Cas’ hand and scoots a little closer, waiting for Cas to continue.

“I don’t regret any of the choices that led me here,” Cas looks up into shining green eyes. “It’s not that. I love being here with you.” A tear escapes and trails down Dean’s cheek. He nods.

“Still, I miss being able to exist outside of this body. I miss my trueform.” Cas take a sip of his hot chocolate. “Some nights my body feels like it’s rejecting me. Like its crumbling and I can’t get out before it buries me. My legs feel like the skin is being pulled off the bone.” Dean’s eyes widen.

“Did you hurt yourself on your run?”

“No, they just. Do that sometimes. And it’s not always my legs. Sometime it’s other areas. Or my whole body. Sometimes my skin feels like antique paper. Like if I move, I’ll disintegrate. I’ve tried several things to alleviate these sensations; getting high, taking baths, doing yoga, but nothing works completely.”

Dean listens intently, continuing to rub his thumb along Cas’ knuckles. He takes a sip of hot chocolate and hums.

“I think I have an idea that might help.”

             Cas turns to look at him. “Dean, I’m really not in the mood – “

             “No, not like that!” Dean cuts him off. He sets his hot chocolate down on the coffee table. “It’s not that. I think I have some ideas that might help your body relax and feel more grounded.”

             “I already tried yoga.”

             “Sure, by yourself. But maybe you need a little extra something. Some human contact to remind you that you’re really here. So it’s not just mental.”

             Cas takes a slow drink of his hot chocolate. It couldn’t hurt to try. “Ok. I’ll try anything you think might help.”

             Dean smiles softly, “Great. You gotta shower first, though.”

             After cleaning up their hot chocolate dishes, a quick shower for Cas, and brushing their teeth they end up on Cas’ yoga mat.

             “Dean, you’re sure you want to actually do the yoga with me?”

             Dean flashes a grin, “Sure, man, I’ve never wanted to do yoga before but I always want to help you.”

             Cas feels his heart swell. They go through a few yoga poses and Cas talks Dean through them. Already having Dean do this practice with him is helping him feel like he does belong in his body. They finish with hands to heart and slow, deep breaths. Cas feels heavy in a good way. Dean’s hand squeezes his knee.

             “Ready for part two?”

             “What’s part two?”

             “Get comfy on the bed on your stomach and you’ll see.” Cas opens his mouth but before he can speak Dean continues. “I promise nothing hinky. I heard you, you’re not in the mood. But I think I can help some more.”

             Cas trusts Dean, so he settles on his stomach, drawing his hands up under his chest. The bed dips as Dean joins him, kneeling to his side.

             “Ok, you said your shoulders, calves, and ankles specifically were bothering you so I’m gonna focus on those areas.”

             Dean’s hands are warm as they make contact with Cas’ shoulders. He starts to gently massage. Cas melts further into the mattress.

             “You know the 54321 thing I do when I have anxiety attacks?”

             “Yes.”

             “Cool. Can you tell me 5 things you see?”

             “I see the edge of the bed. The lamp. Your book. Your water bottle. The grocery list you wrote before we went to bed.”

             Dean continues to gently rub his shoulders and back. “Great. Now four things you feel.”

“I feel the pressure of your fingers - the warmth from your hands through my shirt. My muscles are tingling. The sheets are soft against my cheek. My breath is warm.”

             Dean moves his hands down and playfully gives Cas’ ass a pinch.

             “Hey,” Cas says, his voice slurred, already feeling more relaxed.

             “I just can’t help it, babe.” Dean laughs moves on to his calves. “Alright next is three things you hear.”

             “I can hear the sheets rustling. The air conditioning. Insects outside.”

Gradually, with every motion Dean makes Cas begins to settle into himself. Dean moves on to his ankles.

“Two things you smell?”

“I smell the candle you lit. Our shampoo.”

“One thing you taste?”

“Toothpaste.”

When he’s finished, Dean blows out the candle and stretches out next to Cas and kisses his forehead.

             “Well?” he whispers. Cas blinks slowly. He takes stock. He can feel the soft ache in his muscles from his run, but nothing feels like its being stabbed or about to shatter.

             “I feel good,” Cas whispers back. “I feel whole. Being touched by you, loved by you is the greatest honor. If I didn’t have a body, I would be missing a crucial part of me.” As much as Cas misses existing as a wavelength of celestial intent, he would miss this more if the tables were turned.

             Dean gently kisses him and runs a hand through his hair. “Then let’s get some shuteye, huh?”

             “I’d love that.”

             “You’ll wake me up next time, right? I mean, I’m not saying that’ll work every time but we could try it?” He pauses and smiles gently. “You don’t ever have to be alone anymore.”

             Cas nods and gives Dean a kiss. “Thank you, Dean.”

             “Always, Cas.”

             They turn off the lights and shift until they’re comfortable in each other’s arms. Dean had grabbed an extra pillow to put under Cas’ knees. He knows this isn’t a one-and-done thing. It might happen again tomorrow. Still, for the first time in weeks Cas believes that he’ll be ok. He falls asleep to Dean singing.

“It is the springtime of my loving

The second season I am to know

You are the sunlight in my growing

So little warmth I've felt before

It isn't hard to feel me glowing

I watched the fire that grew so lo---w”

 Dean’s voice is low and rumbling. Like thunder lulling him to sleep, pulling him under.

 “It is the summer of my smiles

Flee from me, keepers of the gloom

Speak to me only with your eyes

It is to you I give this tune

Ain't so hard to recognize, oh

These things are clear to all from time to time, ooh”

 Cas feels pleasantly fuzzy as he finally succumbs, safe in Dean’s embrace, secure in his body.

 “I've felt the coldness of my winter

I never thought it would ever go I cursed the gloom that set upon us

But I know that I love you so, ohhhh, oh

But I know that I love you so These are the seasons of emotion

And like the winds they rise and fall

This is the wonder of devotion

I see the torch we all must hold

This is the mystery of the quotient

Ah, upon us all, upon us all a little rain must fall”

[shortsnackattack]

Winter Getaway

Part 1 (?)

Pairing: Keishin Ukai x reader

Tw: none, just fluff with some light suggestive themes

Content: established relationship, slice of life, you’re getting ready for your weekend getaway (part one- before trip//possible part two-the trip itself)

It started innocently enough. You two were on the bus when an elderly lady struck up a conversation by complimenting your jacket. The couple must have been in their late seventies or early eighties and though the husband didn’t say much, the care he took in helping his wife off the bus, paired with the image of the two of them, huddling together against the sharp winter chill made your heart all gooey. As you watched the man carefully bundle his wife in his arms as they walked away your hand gave Keishin’s a little squeeze. Following your gaze, he shook his head in amusement before he pulled your hand to his lips and kissed your palm through the mitten.

Later that night as you were chopping vegetables at the counter and humming along to the radio, you thought again of how happy the couple had seemed, contented by a life shared together. Musing about what your life would look like by the time you were 80 you didn’t notice Keishin walk in until he was standing beside you, grabbing a piece of pepper from the cutting board to snack on. He leaned against the counter and watched you work, a small smile upon his lips.

“Are you all packed for our trip?” he asked, pushing away from the counter to grab a drink from the fridge.

You paused and the silence carried the guilt of still having about half of your clothes in the suitcase and the other half haphazardly stacked on top of the bed.

“If I were to say no…” you venture, daring to shoot a guilty smile at him over your shoulder.

“This is a hypothetical, right?” he asked, smirking.

“Oh most definitely,” you replied, hoping he hadn’t seen the ruin you’d left the bedroom in.

“So in this hypothetical situation, if you were to say that my lovely girlfriend has yet to pack her bags for our ‘romantic winter weekend getaway,’ which she not only named but also booked for us because, and I quote, ‘Keishin you work so hard I don’t think you even know what snow looks like anymore…’” You wanted to laugh at the way his voice went higher to mimic yours, but the way his gaze held your own nailed you to the floor. You were doomed. “Yes let’s say that my wonderful girlfriend set all this up and yet instead of packing she insisted that we go last minute Christmas shopping today…” By now he was leaned against the refrigerator, arms crossed over his chest and the same sarcastic smirk plastered to his face. You gulped, prepping for dinner completely forgotten. The angle of his gaze had your hair standing on edge.

“Yeah let’s say that’s the case, you know for science.” Your voice sounded weak even to your own ears.

“For science,” he echoed, his smirk turning into a full-on grin. “but you know, I was never really that good at science. I was always better at physical education.” His eyes pinned you to the spot and your palms went clammy. You could barely breathe by the time he crossed the small kitchen, invading your space, his voice lowering in the new proximity.

“Now,” he continued, taking the knife from your hand, and setting it behind you on the cutting board “why don’t you let me finish up here so I don’t have to give you a demonstration. For science.” Your mouth was so dry you could only gulp before giving a small nod and practically running out of the kitchen. As you shut the door behind you, a not-so-subtle voice was screaming in your head that you DID want him to show you, but the shame of the mountain of clothes on the bed kept you grounded. Your mind however, kept wandering back to the kitchen where you could hear the sizzle of frying veggies and the low hum of music.

Now suitably packed, you padded back into the kitchen where you were met by the smell of freshly cooked food. Keishin, watching you sheepishly enter gave you a warm smile and a soft, “there’s my girl.” After setting the dishes on the table he asked if you were packed and this time you didn’t shy away from the question. You really have been looking forward to this trip. A long weekend in the mountains, snow, skiing, skating, hot coco by the fireside…and Keishin, without any work schedules, or practices, or tournaments. Part of you wondered if he’d be itching to come back to the city the entire time, but the way his smile settled as you two discussed what you wanted to do first gave your heart a reassuring warmth.

Thank you for reading! 

[inkyvendingmachine]

Stop Trying To Poach JDS Employees They Already Have A Job Playing Music For All Eternity They Don’t Need A Cult Membership For That Season 3, Episodes 7

💀 Call of Cthulhu: Haunted Hijinx Masterpost 💀 🎶 Call of Cthulhu Season Three Masterpost 🎶

Warning: This campaign is an edited version of Call of Cthulhu: Song and Dance scenario from the Tales of the Crescent City book. While a lot has been changed, there IS spoilers for it throughout these posts. 

hi.

I had fun this episode.

:)

ART CHANGES THIS SEASON!! @inkdemonapologist​ and I are collabing on all the art for these summery posts!! Shazz does lines, and I compose and colour the pieces.

Sammy and Jack have been thrown into some kind of very cold truck and driven off into the night. Peter has been able to keep up with them well enough, tracking the truck back to some restaurant where it looks like they’re going to hold the two for now. Or… do something to them there. Not the original place they had headed out to, oddly enough, but that didn’t mean they had any more time than before. Somewhere along this ride the boys managed to wake up some and even talk with Peter… Sammy included. The detective passes along a simple plan from Joey, which Sammy confirms that he was let in on already when Joey visited his dream, as well as an instruction to stall for as long as possible, before he hightails it back to his body to call up Joey and let him know where the music boys are being kept.

Meanwhile, said boys are finally escorted out of the truck, and the first question they’re met with is, “Aren’t you two composers?”

Sammy gives an off-handed “Sure,” but doesn’t really respond more than that. Neither of them are very aware right now, as they have just been pulled out of a pitch black refrigerator truck into a bright enough lit room that they’re thoroughly disorientated. Saxophone backs them up though, insisting of their skill. (He is not looking too hot after what Joey did to him before though.

Of course, words alone aren't gonna cut it, so Sammy and Jack are given the opportunity to prove their compositional skill. And... Sammy knows he'll be a lot better at stalling with music than words, so, with a small upright piano already in the room, he just goes and does what he does best: He plays music. He composes songs that have been digging their way into his head and plays them with such amazing skill that the entire room, filled with musicians, gangsters and even waitstaff, stops what they’re doing to just listen and stare. Jack is able to keep up with a borrowed violin, though takes Sammy’s amazing performance to try and scout for more info: he notices that a cultist who was showing up with… what looks like might have been a yellow book is waved off. The man in the room who’s dressed up the nicest kind of looks related to Y, but also is older. Perhaps the father we had heard about. And there’s only two exits; out some large garage doors, or through a different pair of heavy doors into an unknown building.

Sammy continues playing. He does not stop playing. He’s got them entranced, might as well make a distraction out of it. Also… it’s a nice distraction for himself too.

Meanwhile, Joey has gotten the information from Peter about the restaurant the boys are apparently being held at, including an idea of the layout. He tells Peter to meet him there, and instructs him to dress closely to what the wait staff look like, if he can. If he can’t… well uh,,, dress nice then! We need to at least get you through the door. Meanwhile, he likewise gets Henry dressed up, including concealing a gun on his person, and then calls up Allison to ask her to go, uh, somewhere completely different.

Basically, he now knows Y has the address of the last known place the three girls were staying. He needs Allison to get there first, beat them to the address and recover anything she possibly can. Or even better, warn the girls if they’re still there. But also like, if Joey doesn’t call her back in a few hours uh maybe can you swing by this place downtown and make sure we’re not all captured by the mafia? Great fantastic okay byeeeee,

The boys (Henry, Peter, and a Joey+Bendy combo) head to the restaurant. Peter is… over dressed for wait staff, but dressed well enough. Except for his hair. Joey fixes that.

The three manage to get in rather easily and grab a seat at a table, as Joey uses his words to talk the wait staff around into thinking they’re just some lucky dudes celebrating their success that night. Once sat down, he even orders a round of drinks and some appetizers, making sure the staff is clear of the table before starting to give his plan.

Basically, he’s going to make a big distraction. When that starts, Henry and Peter are going to do their best to blend in with the wait staff or use the confusion and slip to the back. Henry will go first since he can actually blend in somewhat, Peter will follow once there’s a grand amount of confusion started because it’s more likely he can just push past. And if everything is successful, Joey should be able to join them quickly. But if not, just grab Sammy and Jack and get the hell out of there. He can force his way out if he needs to.

While explaining all this, the trio notice the very well dressed man who looks related to Y make his way through the building and out into the street, followed by some lackeys. Alright, they don’t have much time left if someone like THAT feels like he’s no longer needed here.

With plan in place, Joey snatches up the untouched alcoholic drinks on the table, one in each hand, and puts on his mask. Playing the part of someone who might have already had too many drinks, he starts circling the room demanding why such a beautiful stage set up of instruments is being left so empty. What they need is some live music! Surely there’s a musician in here, a singer? Anyone? 

He starts pushing drinks into people's hands and drumming on tables and humming beats to popular songs… and it works. People can’t help but get into the music, anyone who’s even slightly musically inclined currently has a compulsion to follow along. Joey gets people dancing, singing, just covering all the bases, and soon has a musical riot at his fingertips.

With the staff scrambling to get the situation under control, Henry manages to slip to the back no problem and find the garage where Sammy is still playing his music. While he managed to visually blend in, when it comes to acting, he falls a bit short, usually more reliant on Joey being around to do the talking. Other staff show up and, without realizing it, back him up Henry’s claims; informing the band members that there's a whole musical shebang breaking out up front, and their instruments perhaps have been taken over by that crowed. It manages to get the room is cleared out down to the two music boys, Saxophone and one other mafia lackey… and Henry is on the chopping block again, with Saxophone is getting suspicious about why he’s still here.

It doesn’t help that maybe he wasn’t warned about the guy’s face melting off and reacted… not great to seeing that for the first time.

Peter is also able to sneak back in all the hustle, and once Joey feels like he has something that’s going to last started, he starts sneaking around to the back as well. The two make it to the heavy metal doors, looking out the window just in time to see Henry being approached by Saxophone… and not in the nicest of ways.

As soon as the melted man reaches out to grab Henry, rather sure now that he is NOT actually part of their cult, Sammy hits the most horrible chord he can on the piano and goes to jump up and punch the guy, though whiffs and is pushed to the side–

As Joey takes the musical beat as his cue to burst through the doors, immediately transforming into some new demonic version of Bendy’s original lurkery forms, but sculpted by Joey’s overactive imagination and new attachment to the stone… an ink demon, you could call it.

Nobody is uh, happy with this actually except for Joey and Bendy. But he does manage to get between Henry and the other guy while the rest of the group loses a good cut of sanity from seeing Joey transform into a monster of a toon. Of course, Saxophone isn’t pleased about this either, and when Joey goes to attack him, he manages to ink his way onto Joey instead, somehow pushing his goopy arms into Joey’s shoulders and starting to infect him with Yellow. Henry pulls out his gun and attempts to threaten him, but he really doesn’t seem to care. Okay, good to know. Gun might not do anything to these… yellow ink musicians…The other lackey that was still in the room is thoroughly not into Gun, and scooting towards the doors heading out through the front though! Basically just have Saxophone and his weird infectious Yellow to deal with now!

Sammy and Jack are joined by a Peter, and they run over to one of the garage doors to try and get it open. Jack struggles with it at first but gets the mechanical pull working. Sammy yells at the others to follow, let’s get out of here already! Peter has the locations of the cars so he can guide them and they start making their escape, though they’re distracted with the fight Joey and Saxophone are still mixed up in. Joey decides he’s no longer interested in playing with this man, and attempts to splat him with his claws.

And that’s exactly what happens. He turns into nothing but a yellow puddle on the ground, and the Ink Demon maniacally laughs at it, declaring how they should have listened before and to not touch what’s his.

AS ONE MIGHT EXPECT. NONE OF THE OTHER BOYS. ARE UHH DOING GOOD WITH THIS EITHER. 

Nor are they doing well with watching Joey melt back down into person shape while chasing to catch up to them. But with the door crinkled down behind them, and the last goon having run off, they manage to run out into the muggy night. Joey and Bendy manage to slip back down into a person-shaped form before they exit the shadows of the alleys, Henry scoops him up as he immediately starts to falter in keeping up with the rest of the group, and they get back to the cars unfollowed… and soon they’re all safe back to JDS.

Except… those wounds, from the claws, on Joey and Sammy? Do not look well. They look very yellow. And Joey is not doing well, suffering from the extreme pain the entire ride home curled up in the back over the music boys, biting into his sleeve to keep himself from crying or screaming in pain. Sammy ends up finding his mask and putting it back on during the ride, as well as info dumping in more and more incoherent rambling about the yellow king things they learned tonight.

Back at the studio, Jack attempts to help the boys… but he’s not doing too hot himself. Looking at Joey’s wounds, he manages to do a pretty good job at patching him up while he’s lying curled up on a cot. But perhaps this is only because he knows he can’t do too much to Joey right now. Bendy manages a pretty quick pop out of Joey, and also has some marks on his arms… but isn’t hearing music or feeling things to the extent that the other boys are?? So uh. Shrug, probably fine. Sammy on the other hand is now being haunted by this music once more… the wound isn’t super bad actually other than the Yellow, and Jack ends up thinking that maybe he can get some of the Yellow out of him? It’s a much smaller wound and, and Sammy’s arms are so important he needs those to work, getting it out now might be better in the long run…

…

It doesn’t go well. Sammy eventually gets a bandage, but his arm is perhaps more torn up than it was before… and there’s still yellow in it.

Joey has now had enough time to recover that he’s able to… talk. He gets Henry to call Allison and check in, let her know they are actually not captured by the Mafia. She’s managed to stop by the address he gave her, and has… quite a lot of stuff to talk about, but is also in no condition to chat tonight. Which is fine, neither is Joey. They’ll talk in the morning.

Also, if all the Yellow is still really in their heads in the morning, Sammy is going to ask if Henry can try and purify them like he did with the sign before… Or perhaps ask Prophet to see what he knows. It has been a while since they last talked with him…

Peter and Henry start to get themselves collected up to head out. Jack and Sammy talk about heading back to Jack’s place, but Joey refuses to leave the studio. After putting so much of himself into the Stone, he needs to be near it to be at his full mental strength. He is thoroughly convinced if he steps out of the one place where he has the entirety of his mind, he’s not going to be himself anymore, that the Yellow will seep in and take him over completely. Jack and Sammy end up staying with him, in his hidden room behind his office, where a proper bed has been made for all his late nights at work. Radio in background, lights left on, Sammy only manages to get to sleep because Joey promises to perform the dream spell and try to make sure they don’t completely suffer the entire night.

[Next Episode]

[Previous Episode]

[drcriminalminds]

Red Handed

Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language. Smut (very, very short).

A/N: This is inspired by that episode where Rossi walks in on Penelope and Kevin in the shower HAHAHA.

Word Count: 1,298

“You know, I think he’s seeing someone.”

Aaron’s kisses were hot, heavy, and they moved with each of his hard thrusts as he fucked up into you. He had you pressed tightly against the shower wall, keeping you there by firmly being squished against you. He didn’t stop his movements, loving your noises and whimpers too much to even think about teasing you.

“Oh, fuck! You feel amazing...” You breathed, throat straining to get the words out.

He sucked on your neck for that, leaving a purpling bruise and chuckling just below your ear. He had a rather rough day, and he had a lot of pent up frustration that you were more than glad to take off of him. He held you up even higher, slamming into you at a new angle that had your toes curling behind his back.

Hot water from the shower head was still flowing steadily, drenching the both of you and filling the room with so much steam that it was getting difficult to breathe. He needed some gratification after his horrible day that you had seen from beginning to end, and he was grateful that he had you to ease his tension. 

“You’re so perfect...so beautiful.” He praised as he felt your legs tighten around him, letting him know that the band was about to snap. 

His suspicions were correct. A few seconds and thrusts later, his name rolled off of your tongue deliciously, and he was milking your walls white as you released around him. Your breathings were heavy as he set you down on the floor, your legs feeling a bit wobbly. He peppered you with lazy kisses, the shower washing away the evidence of your dirty encounter. He eventually pulled back to look at you, all the traces of lust were gone from your eyes and had been replaced with contentment.

“That was-” Aaron went to say, but was cut off when a loud knock was heard on your apartment door.

It was pretty late, nearing 11:30 at night. You had absolutely no idea who could be there this late. 

“I’ll get it.” You grumbled, annoyed that someone was interrupting your more than enjoyable shower.

Aaron whined in protest, but helped you out of the shower to keep you from slipping and possibly hurting yourself. The knocks had grown louder now, and you scrambled to throw on your robe and get to the door. You expected it to be one of your nosy neighbors to see what all the noise had been about, but you were shocked when you saw your best friend standing there.

“Hi, [Y/N].” Spencer greeted, allowing himself inside as he normally did.

It wasn’t at all uncommon for Spencer to drop by your apartment. He was rather spontaneous despite popular belief. Sometimes he would just get bored because he couldn’t sleep or he just wanted someone to talk to. But he almost never came over this late, or at least without calling first.

“Uh, hey, Spence.” You greeted, feeling all your blood rush at the remembrance that Aaron was in your bathroom alone.

Spencer didn’t know about you and Hotch. No one did. Except for Rossi, who figured it out himself. It was something that you and Aaron agreed to keep on the down low, and out of public knowledge. It was a frowned upon thing to date a co-worker...or in your case, your superior. It was nice to have a little secret that you were keeping from the team. It kept things interesting.

“Did Hotch seem weird to you today?” Spencer asked, entering your small kitchen and opening the fridge.

“I...not really, no.” You lied, knowing he had a terrible day.

You couldn’t see Spencer from the refrigerator door blocking him, but his muffled reply alerted you that he had just found your leftover pizza from about an hour ago.

“He just seemed off to me. He never yells at you like that.” Spencer remarked.

It was true that Aaron had yelled at you in front of everyone, resulting in the two of you getting into a massive fight, before making up over pizza and a movie...and then a round of shower sex. 

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” You replied, the sudden lack of sound of the running water from the shower setting in; “Spence, now really isn’t a good-”

“You know, I think he’s seeing someone.” Spencer cut you off.

That sparked your interest for obvious reasons. You had already begun to wonder how NO ONE had picked up on it yet (other than Rossi). You were curious to see what Spencer was picking up on.

“Oh? Why do you say that?” You questioned.

Spencer rose from the fridge, closing the door with a half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand. 

“He just seems happier, aside from today,” Spencer said; “And a few days ago, he walked past me and I could smell perfume. Definitely not his regular cologne.” He announced.

You snorted, teasing the lanky man.

“Are you smelling Aaron on a regular basis?” You joked.

Spencer stopped his chewing, and raised a brow.

“Aaron? Since when are you on a first name basis with Hotch?” Spencer queried.

Your cheeks went hot at your mistake, your amused smile fading.

“Oh, well...I just meant-”

And then the man in question made his entrance. Almost stark naked if it hadn’t been for the towel around his waist.

“Baby, I know that you know this, but your hot water heater is terrible.” Hotch said, referring to how your shower could go from blazing hot to frigidly cold in a matter of seconds.

Spencer’s entire face went red, the tips of his ears almost going purple at the sight of Hotch in front of him. Hotch noticed your deer-in-headlights stare and Spencer’s ghostly look. The three of you were frozen in time, very aware of the situation and how peculiar it was. 

“Reid, what the- what are you doing here?” Aaron asked in a calm, yet panicked tone.

Aaron knew that you and Spencer spent a lot of time together outside of work, but he didn’t think that Spencer would ever show up when he was there. Spencer’s eyes couldn’t help but dart between the two of you, back and forth as if he were trying to convince himself it was real.

“I thought that [Y/N] might want to talk about today...but I see I came at a bad time.” He blushed.

“Spencer, it’s...we just...” You tried to explain, but couldn’t find the right words. 

This was not how you thought this would go. Spencer had just showed up at a very inconvenient time, and now was in the presence of two of his dearest friends who had just clearly been doing something they probably shouldn’t have been.

Spencer had just caught you red handed.

The boy genius was piecing it all together in his head. The pieces all fit together to create one solid, obvious picture. 

You and Hotch were together.

“I’m sorry I interrupted...I, uh, guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer said, making a mad dash for your front door.

“Reid.” Hotch said in an attempt to stop him.

“Spencer, wait, it’s not-” 

But he was out the door and down the hall before either of you could convince him to stay. A pit of dread and guilt was brewing in both of your guts. Now that Spencer knew, it was only a matter of time before everyone else did. It wasn’t that you didn’t want the team to know, it was more of the legality stuff you’d have to go through when they did. 

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples stressfully. Aaron rested a hand on your shoulder, his deep, sarcastic voice sounding out.

“That went well.”

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 21}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Before Nesta even opened her eyes, she knew that she’d gotten some of the best sleep she’d had in months. She knew it was early, since Nyx hadn’t even woken them up for his morning bottle yet. Sighing comfortably, she settled deeper into her pillows, the weight of a heavy arm slung over her waist, pulling her in close.

With sudden clarity, she remembered the events of the night before. She remembered the damn kiss that had started it all. She remembered the orgasms Cassian had given her over and over. She remembered seeing something shining in his eyes that had nothing to do with lust or sex.

She was sure it was reflected in her own, but couldn’t work up the nerve to let herself think about what they’d done last night, what it may have implied. What lines they may have crossed.

And the fact that she really didn’t give a damn.

Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she was this happy, and as much as she tried to pretend it wasn’t thanks to the man sleeping soundly behind her, in her bed, she couldn’t lie to herself.

So she gently rolled over, careful not to wake him, and took in his sleeping face.

It was kind of funny.

Nesta had known Cassian for a while, for five years, and before that in passing, considering Feyre and Rhysand’s relationship. She had watched him age, had watched him grow from a young man into the man that had taken her the night before, but looking at him now…

There was an innocence about him when he slept.

He snored, quietly, completely unaware that she was awake, that she was watching him.

He was cute.

So, so cute.

If he awoke at that very moment and saw her watching him sleep, she would have surely been mortified, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, she couldn’t look away.

Memories from the night before flashed through her mind, and it only made her that much happier. She couldn’t remember the last time she had fallen asleep in a man’s arms, but with Cassian, she had fallen asleep peacefully, nearly instantly, and slept amazingly.

There was something about Cassian that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she knew that she liked it.

She dared to gently brush a kiss over his cheek, before carefully climbing out of bed, his heavy arm making that a much harder endeavor than she was expecting. But he slept on soundly, not even stirring as she slipped from beneath the sheets and hurried into her closet. She wasn’t embarrassed by her nakedness, not after everything that had happened last night, but she knew that if he caught her naked, they were likely to take far longer getting downstairs to start their morning.

Not that she would have minded, but she was pretty sure neglecting Nyx was not a good enough reason for sex.

No, she’d enjoy him again later, as thoroughly as he’d enjoyed her last night, if he was willing. And she had no doubt that he would be.

Tying her robe around her waist, Nesta slipped from the closet into her room, glancing to make sure Cassian was still fast asleep. His snore confirmed he was.

Her chuckle was quiet as she entered the hall, sneaking down a few doors and opening Nyx’s. He was still asleep, as well, and with a smile, Nesta cracked his door and quietly padded down the stairs.

The kitchen was still a mess, his half-smashed cake on the counter and their clothes strewn around the room. Blushing, she picked them up one by one and tossed them into the laundry room, before making Nyx a bottle and starting on some scrambled eggs for his breakfast.

She could hardly focus. She was constantly thinking about the man upstairs, still sleeping soundly in her bed. Mixing a little cheese into the eggs, she stirred the eggs up in the pan before dumping them directly onto Nyx’s high chair tray.

Last time they’d slept together, Cassian had made her breakfast and then they’d both agreed it would never happen again. Regardless of the fact that it very much had happened again, Nesta didn’t like the sinking feeling she felt in her heart when she thought about having to agree to that once more.

Staring at the ingredients she’d pulled out of the fridge, Nesta sighed and braced her hands on the counter in front of her.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she had feelings for Cassian anymore. At some point, he’d gone from being a pain in her ass to the favorite part of her day. And that terrified her.

Letting him continue to sleep, she crept upstairs and gently woke Nyx up before he could start screaming, and carried him down to the kitchen, his sleepy head resting on her shoulder. He rubbed his eyes as she put him in his high chair, handing him the bottle, and she started working on their breakfast.

The entire time he ate, Nyx watched Nesta curiously, as if he knew something was up.

Maybe it was just her paranoia. Then again, he was Feyre and Rhysand’s kid and they were always snooping into Cassian and Nesta’s business.

Feyre and Rhysand.

Nesta bet they were pretty damn proud of themselves at the moment.

She heard him moving around upstairs and her heart began to beat a little bit faster. This was it, the moment of truth.

She cursed, all the while Nyx kept watching her as he stuffed his mouth with scrambled eggs.

Making herself busy at the stove, she quickly dropped some bacon into the hot skillet, sizzling filling the kitchen. Within seconds, a few pieces of bread were in the toaster, and she was rummaging through the refrigerator for the blackberry jam she knew he preferred.

Nyx’s babbling announced his arrival, and she turned to find Cassian standing behind his high chair, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. He picked up a small clump of eggs and popped it into his mouth, and Nyx angrily began talking at him, though the made up words were unintelligible.

“He doesn’t like to share,” she said, closing the fridge door with a hip.

Cassian grinned. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I worked up an appetite last night.”

Nesta’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “Is that so?”

Cassian nodded and walked toward her, slowly. Nesta remained still until he was standing just in front of her. “I have to confess that I was hoping you’d be there when I woke up this morning.”

Nesta stepped closer to him. “Breakfast and the baby called.”

Cassian scoffed and muttered, “Priorities.”

Nesta laughed quietly, but the sound was muffled by Cassian’s lips against hers.

It was almost instinct to lean into him, to smile against his lips. When she pulled back just a hair, his hazel eyes were bright. She whispered, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he breathed, his mouth still so close to hers.

She blushed, even though she couldn’t figure out why and turned to the stove. “I…wasn’t sure what to expect this morning.”

Cassian hesitated. “What did you think I’d do?”

Nesta sighed, scratching her head. “I don’t know. I thought you might act like it never happened. Or, you’d say it was only a one time thing like last time.”

Cassian cocked his head to the side. “Last time I didn’t sleep in your bed.”

“And that changes things?” Nesta asked, quietly.

“Last night changed things,” Cassian replied, brushing her hair back out of her face. “At least, for me it did.”

“Me too,” Nesta replied, without any hesitation.

Cassian’s eyes softened. “Nesta, I-.”

“NANANANANANANANA!”

They both spun around, where Nyx was watching them with the most precious of pissed off expressions. His tray was empty, practically licked clean, and Nyx was not having it.

Cassian chuckled as he took a banana out of the fruit basket and peeled it before cutting it up into slices. “He’s awfully full of it this morning, isn’t he?”

“I think he knows,” she said, rolling her eyes as she flipped the bacon. “Not specifically what happened, but he knows something is…different between us.”

He paused his cutting and turned back to her, pausing with a hip resting on the counter. “Good different or bad different?”

“Good different,” she said, smiling. She cracked a few eggs into a bowl and mixed them up with some milk. “Definitely good different.”

For a moment, Cassian didn’t say anything, but when she turned he was grinning. “Really good different?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” She turned back around. “But yes.”

“Good,” he breathed, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “What’ve you got going on today?”

“Work,” she said. “Seeing how the bar renovation is going. Looks like you’ll have to hire your replacement soon with how quickly everything is moving.”

Cassian groaned. “That’s the part I’m looking towards the least. I hate interviews. I hate being in them, I hate giving them, they’re awful.”

“But the sooner you give them, the sooner you leave that bar and come work at mine,” she crooned.

“Yours?” he repeated, offended.

Nesta snorted. “Ours.”

He and Kallias had both given their notice to the owner of the dive bar they worked in. He wasn’t thrilled, but he had always been a gruff bastard. He’d informed Cassian he wasn’t going anywhere until he’d hired not only his replacement, but Kal’s, as well.

“Speaking of,” he sighed, glancing at the clock. “I’ve got one scheduled for eleven-thirty. What time are you going to the restaurant?”

She poured the egg mixture into the skillet she’d cooked the crispy bacon in moments before and began laying the bacon on the toast she’d made. “Whenever,” she shrugged. “Helion is opening today. What time can Viviane be here?”

“Ten. I’m not working a shift today, so after the interview I can either come back here and give her the rest of the day off, or I can come to the restaurant.”

Nesta chewed slowly as she thought about it. “I wouldn’t mind if you came to the restaurant.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” Cassian said, placing the cut-up banana in front of a cranky Nyx. “And you, little man, better be good for Viv today. Because you’re grumpy.”

In response, Nyx spit out the piece of banana he had put in his mouth and smushed up the rest on his tray.

After scarfing down the breakfast that Nesta had made, and making a show of thanking her for it, Cassian was cleaning up the kitchen then hurrying upstairs to shower. Nesta was left cleaning up a fussy, banana-covered Nyx.

“I don’t even think you wanted to eat the banana, kiddo,” she muttered, cleaning off his tray, before wiping him down with an ungodly amount of baby wipes. “I think it was just to play in.”

He had plenty to say about that, just nothing Nesta could understand.

A few minutes later, freshly showered and dressed Cassian came downstairs, where Nyx was playing on the living room floor. She was up the stairs a minute later, hurrying to take her own shower. After an hour, she returned, purse and keys in hand. “I’m going to go ahead and head to the restaurant. I’ll see you in a little while?”

He nodded and as she made for the door, Cassian stood, catching her by the elbow and tugging her back to him. She stumbled a step, but he crushed her to his chest and pressed a kiss to her lips. When he pulled back, they were both grinning like fools. “I’ll see you in a little while,” he repeated.

“Okay.” She was backing towards the door, that smile looking like it was a permanent fixture on her face, before slipping out and leaving he and Nyx alone.

Who was watching him again, looking so much like Rhysand with that little eyebrow raised.

Cassian couldn’t help but snort and say, “This is your fault you know.”

A few hours later, right after Nyx had gone down for his mid- morning nap, Cassian heard a knock on the front door. Opening the door, Viviane rushed in. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, shaking her head.

Cass glanced at the clock on the mantle. “It’s barely ten-fifteen,” he chuckled. “No big deal, you’re fine.”

She nodded. “Sorry, just— It’s been a crazy morning.”

“Everything okay?” Cassian asked. Viv was usually steady, so sure of everything she did or said.

“Yeah,” she replied, waving off his question. “I’m fine. Ran into my ex at the coffee shop and— Ugh, ignore me. Don’t worry about it. Is Nyx down for his nap?”

“Yeah, he’s been out for about fifteen minutes. He had a pretty big breakfast, so I doubt he’ll be too hungry when he wakes up.” Cassian gnawed on his lip for a second debating on whether he should ask what was on his mind. After considering how well throwing caution to this wind has worked for him last night, he decided why the hell not. “Does that mean you’re single? Since you bumped into your ex?”

Viviane froze and blinked. “Yes, but I don’t date my employers—”

“No, no,” he quickly said, holding his hands out in placation. “It’s not me. It’s a friend of mine and I think you two might hit it off.”

Viviane raised a brow. “A friend, huh?”

“Guy I’ve worked with for years,” Cassian went on. “Great guy, in fact. You’ll enjoy yourself, guaranteed.”

“Guaranteed?” Viviane chuckled. “Well, I can’t say no to that, can I?”

Cassian grinned. “No, you can’t, and neither can he. Tomorrow night, you free?”

“I suppose I am, if my boss is giving me the night off,” she laughed.

“He is, and it’ll be great, we’ll all go out,” Cassian said. “You and Kal, and me and Nesta.”

“Kal,” she said, the shortened name rolling off her tongue. “Yeah, alright. That sounds fun.”

“Perfect,” Cassian said, patting her on the shoulder as he swept past her. “I’ve got to get going, but we should be home around five or so. Call if you need anything.”

Viviane chuckled. “You say that every time, and have I ever called?”

“It’s a habit!” he called, as he hurried out the door.

When he got to the bar, Kallias had everything under control, which meant Cassian was taking a table in the far corner, waiting for his interviewee to arrive.

Sadly, this wasn’t the interview to replace his own job. That was proving to be far more tedious than he was expecting. But an hour later, after shaking the young man’s hand, Cassian let out a sigh of relief as he left.

“And how’d that go?” Kallias asked, wiping down a few glasses that were drying atop the bar.

“Well, your position is officially filled,” he replied, sitting across from him at the bar. “So congratulations.”

“Cheers,” he chuckled, raising the empty glass towards Cassian. “When are we celebrating?”

“Tomorrow night, actually,” Cassian said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kal snorted. “Seriously? I was kidding.”

“I’m not,” Cassian replied, shrugging. “We’re going out tomorrow night. You, me, Nesta, and Viviane.”

Kallias blinked. “The hot nanny?”

Cassian grinned. “Yeah.”

Kallias looked at Cassian suspiciously. “I thought you were kidding when you said you were setting us up.”

“Oh, I never kid about love,” Cassian said, winking.

Kallias raised a brow. “Love? Who the hell are you?”

Cassian filled his glass and took a gulp of beer. “Just meet us at Rita’s at eight tomorrow.”

Kallilas continued to stare at him for a long while. “You slept with her again, didn’t you?”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Tomorrow. Rita’s. Eight.”

And with that, he chugged his beer and left.

*

The next night, Cassian and Nesta dropped Nyx off at Elain’s before making their way to Rita’s.

“Our first date,” Cassian crooned, reaching his hand across the car to Nesta’s.

She took it fondly. “Our first date? After all we’ve been through, do we even qualify for a first date?”

“Why?” Cassian scoffed. “Just because we’ve been sleeping together and living with each other and raising a kid together?” He snorted. “Of course, we deserve a first date.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but did not protest.

Cassian had slept in her bed last night after another night of lovemaking. Even though it didn’t seem possible, it got better with each time. The more they got to know each other’s bodies, the more familiar with one another they became, the more they became one in intimacy, the more amazing it was.

“You look amazing tonight,” Cassian said, quietly. “In case I haven’t told you that yet tonight.”

He had.

Multiple times.

But, Nesta couldn’t blame him. She did look amazing in her navy blue dress and her blush heels. She looked over at Cassian, in his jeans and button down shirt.

Coincidentally, it wasn’t much different than what he had worn on their actual first date five years before. She chuckled, and he looked over at her, brow raised.

“This is actually our second date,” she said.

Cassian shook his head, amused, before looking back out the window as he turned into the parking lot. “Well, hopefully this date goes better than that one did.”

Nesta agreed.

As soon as Cassian opened Nesta’s door, they spotted Viviane pulling into the parking lot. They knew she was a pretty girl, but she usually showed up to work with a ponytail, jeans, and a t-shirt. Now, she had really dressed to impress.

Cassian whistled as she got out of her car and Vivane blushed as Nesta’ jabbed him in the ribs.

“You look beautiful,” Nesta told Vivane.

“Thanks,” she said, and Nesta could tell the nanny was a little nervous, a little uncomfortable.

“I see Kal’s truck,” Cassian said, gesturing for the women to follow. “I guess he’s already inside.”

Indeed he was and he’d already gotten a table for the four of them and was working on a pitcher of a beer.

“Hey, man,” Cassian greeted him as Kallias stood and shook his hand. “This is Nesta,” he said, placing a hand on her back.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, reaching for his hand as well. They shook hands and Kallias smiled.

“You, too,” he replied. “I guess I should call you boss now, huh?”

“No, no, no,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Please don’t.”

“And this,” Cassian interrupted, rolling his eyes at the two of them, “is Viviane.”

As if he somehow hadn’t noticed the blond beauty behind Cassian until this moment, Kallias looked up at her and blinked. He was about to make some sort of hot nanny joke when Kallias breathed, “Viv?”

She was looking at him with the same dumbfounded look Kallias had on his face. “Kallias… Hey.”

Cassian and Nesta looked between the two, then at each other, and after a moment, Nesta asked, “You two know each other?”

Kallias still looked like he was trying to figure out what planet he was on, so Viviane answered, “We were…childhood friends. But my family moved to Velaris when I started middle school.” She shook her head, but she had been looking at Kallias the whole time. “I had no idea you were in Velaris.”

He finally remembered to speak, though Cassian was beginning to wonder if he’d need to answer for him. “I came out here for college. Loved the city and decided to stay.”

“College?” Viviane repeated. “You’re telling me that you’ve been here since your freshman year, and you’ve never called?”

Kallias chuckled. “I didn’t even know you still lived here!”

“Hmm,” Viviane said, taking a seat across from him. “Well, what a small world, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Kallias repeated, “small world.”

Cassian took a seat by Kallias and Nesta sat across from them as they went a little bit more in depth into their long lost friendship. Apparently they had grown up in the same neighborhood and had always gone to the same elementary school. Kallias was a year older than Viviane, but when he went into the seventh grade and Viviane was going into sixth, her family moved to Velaris for her father’s work.

They had never talked again after that. Their friendship was nothing more than a simple, joyful memory.

Seeing them now, Nesta thought, she just knew the two of them had gotten into trouble when they were little. Between their jokes and sly looks at one another, and the obvious chemistry, they had surely been up to no good and gave both sets of parents a run for their money.

“I’m going to the bar,” Cassian announced, looking at Nesta. “Care to join?”

Nesta had a feeling that it was less about going to the bar and more about giving the newfound couple beside them a few minutes alone. She nodded, and took his hand as they walked toward the bar on the other side of the room.

“They’re cute together,” Nesta said, sitting on a barstool.

Cassian sat on the one next to her. “Oh, I know. You know, I’ve gotta say, I feel pretty damn accomplished right now. I definitely made this happen.”

Nesta couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, even as she leaned into his embrace. She wanted nothing more than to poke fun at him, to mess with him about his unexpected matchmaking skills, but as she looked at the two happy people laughing at the table across the bar, she couldn’t help but wonder if that’s the gift that Rhysand and Feyre had tried to give them all those years ago.

Even now, Nesta’s chest tightened as she smiled, so thankful for her meddling, baby sister.

[andsheloved]

drabble day but make it 100 follows sleepover 😌💫 would you please write a lil drabble with loki + the prompt “if you want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask.” bonus points if it’s loki who says it cause who doesn’t love a cheeky loki

oh i am simply so soft, oh goodness, this is too cute, my heart!! thank you so gosh darn much for sending this in my friend! i hope you are doing wonderful!! mwauh!! and i hope you enjoy!!

pairing ~ loki x gn!reader

word count ~ 826

warnings ~ domestic fluff! i am going to cry! my favorite!! mention and slight allusion to nightmares and past trauma on loki's part, eating raw cookie dough,

prompt ~ 'if you want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask.'

You certainly didn't mean to stare, especially not for as long as you were, but how could you not?

Loki, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard, with all of his royal blood and magical abilities, was gliding around your kitchen.

Flour was splattered on his apron as he gracefully turned back around to open the refrigerator.

It was normal, right? Having your significant other make things in your kitchen was a fairly average thing, you thought, so why has he had you so entranced?

His tongue poked out from behind the corner of his lips as he carefully measured out the chocolate chips, being careful as to not overfill the measuring cup, gently picking out stray pieces that came above the 1 cup mark.

You wondered if he could just magical create chocolate chip cookies, there had to be some sort of spell that would instantly conjure baked goods? You were sure he had done more outlandish things with his magic, so why was he taking the time to make them by hand?

He quickly looked up, scanning your kitchen for any baking sheets, and you just as quickly averted your eyes, mindlessly looking out across the room as you tried not to think too hard about the small smirk you saw appear on his lips as you looked away.

You heard a small, triumphant, 'aha!' when he finally found a pan, and turning, watched him as he gingerly placed it beside the mixing bowl.

You thought on how he could be anything but this. How this man could be seen as such a ferocious, conniving person by anyone else was beyond you.

Of course, you understood, in those late night moments when neither of you found sleep, he told you about his past and all that had happened to him, and as your heart broke for him as he recounted his experiences, you wondered how he had kept his.

The man baking cookies for you, the one who scoured your pantry looking for just the right kind of chocolate chips, how his heart was still intact after all he had endured was something that amazed you.

His sudden breaking of your silence ripped you from your spiraling thoughts, "If you want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask."

You felt a sudden rush of heat through your body at his words, "I was just checking if you were doing it right" You stammered, embarrassed at how borderline-pathetic your retort had came out, you were sure he knew the effect he had on you, you just wished you hadn't made it so obvious.

He raised an eyebrow at you before continuing to scoop the dough onto the pan.

"Wait!" You exclaimed playfully, quickly hopping off of your stool and scurrying around the counter, "Don't use all of it!"

Loki turned to you confused, his brows furrowed as he examined you taking the mixing bowl from him.

"You have to try some of it at least" You softly added, grabbing the spatula that lay beside the pan and scooping some stray pieces of cooking dough from the bowl.

"Aren't you supposed to bake them? My love, there are raw-" Loki was cut off by his own gasp of horror as he watched you lick the spatula with the raw dough.

"Have you never eaten the cookie dough before?" You chuckled, trying to stifle the snorts that threatened to be added into the mix of your laughter.

"Not a common practice in the royal kitchens, no." His lips were now drawn into a thin line, a mixture of slight disappointment and concern written on his features.

You scooped another bit of dough onto the spatula, holding it out towards him this time, "Try some, it's good"

He hesitantly took it from you, carefully looking the dough over with squinted eyes, before finally taking a bite. His eyes grew wide in amazement as he looked again to the now empty bowl, but in a flash of green, another batch of cookie dough materialized.

You let out a scoff as you watched the bowl refill, "Not a fan, huh?"

Loki could only cheerfully moan in response as he now grabbed a second spatula from the drawer, almost throwing it into your hands as he spooned another portion of cookie dough into his mouth.

"This is..." He muttered through pieces of cookie dough, "Wonderful"

"I'm glad I was here to stop you from baking all that, it's a federal crime to not eat some, you know" You smiled

Loki suddenly paused, turning to look up at you from the mixing bowl, for a moment you were almost concerned with the intensity he looked at you with, but then he just smiled, a soft, gentle grin as he observed you.

He hummed, "How did I ever get so lucky."

And as you looked at him, the warm glow of the overhead light casting soft shadows across his face, raven black hair tossed around just slightly from his baking escapades.

You thought the same.

oh my, i am, so soft!!! oh to be baking cookies with loki :'), i may just go bake some now, but anyways, i hope you enjoyed this!! i am virtually giving you all of the cookies right now!! mwauh!! i hope you are doing so well!!

want more loki? check out my masterlist!

join in on my 100 follower celebration!

[rukia-writes]

Sugar daddy! Askeladd x college student! (Fem) Reader

Plot: Being Askeladd’s sugar baby is a hassle but an adventure. But at the end of the day Askeladd always treats his sugar baby like a princess.

Setting: modern au

Warnings: no minors 🔞, smut, rough sex, , daddy kink, two sex scenes, dirty (filth) talk, breeding kink (slightly), language, sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship, jealous sex (Slightly protective Askeladd)

Nervous.

The sweet college student was nervously in a home that she had been staying in for a little over year now. The home was quite beautiful and was in the upscale area of the city.

However, that wasn’t why she was nervous.

“You failed one of your exams.”

“Yes-but I still passed the class.”

Grimacing at the word “fail” (Name) tried to make the situation better as her sugar daddy looked at a piece of paper that her grades on it, his blue eyes looked up from the paper to his sweet sugar baby that had won him over. Askeladd had to admit she was beautiful and she was smart, and it was just one exam.

“Do better next time.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

Askeladd heard the sigh of relief leave her as she promised to do better in her classes, no doubt the sigh of relief was because she thought Askeladd would cut off all finances as it was his policy.

“You sound relieved.”

“I am, I thought for sure you would discipline me.”

“No need, it’s not that serious.”

Askeladd gave the paper back as he walked in the kitchen with (Name) following close behind followed by her clearing her throat. Looking behind him he saw her smiling at him while batting her eyelashes with a smile.

“What’s with that look?”

“Well, I don’t want to be a bother but…you haven’t given me monthly allowance yet.”

The sweetness of her voice made Askeladd smirk as he thought it was cute how she asked for her monthly allowance. Even though she should have been used to it by now, still Askeladd scratched his chin and tilted his head back. This only caused (Name) to worry.

“Didn’t I just give you..what was it. That Italian car..”

“..Your Lamborghini? That doesn’t count-that was a gift. Remember? You said “This is my gift to you.”…before you..you know.”

(Name) then became bashful as she looked down at the ground at the thought of what happened afterwards, Askeladd smirked in a teasing manner as he played as though he forgot.

“I seemed to have forgot. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“It’s not important. My allowance please.”

“Allowance? Never heard of it. What’s that?”

Askeladd continue to act as though he had no idea what (Name) was talking about as he poured himself something to drink. Pouting (Name) knew this would happen as Askeladd did this every time she asked for her allowance.

“Come on, you know what I’m talking about. I need it for the bills.”

“I have them too (Name). And I believe a certain college student has been getting rather spoiled with all the trips lately.”

“You told me to do that!”

Askeladd heard (Name) shout at him shocked he said such a lie, chuckling the handsome sugar daddy downed the beer he took out refrigerator as explained how important it was. Still Askeladd continued to play as he walked to his room now with (Name) following close behind until she sat on his bed and smiled.

“Fine then, I’ll just find another daddy to spoil me.”

“No one can spoil you like I can baby and that’s a fact.”

(Name) was taken back by Askeladd’s words as he was quick and blunt, it kindly turned her on and Askeladd knew this as he was close finishing his beer and gave a slight chuckle.

“You want your money huh? I’ll do it now, that’ll satisfy you.”

Watching (Name) saw Askeladd take out his phone and tap the screen a few times before her cellphone vibrated in her pocket as she then looked at the screen and saw Askeladd had made the deposit and had actually gave her a bit more than usual.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to give me so much.”

“Oh, but I did. For the amazing time you gave me in my office last week.”

Askeladd chuckled as he remembered how amazing his sugar baby sucked his cock while in his office, it was against work policy but Askeladd couldn’t help it. (Name) was so bashful as she motioned for Askeladd to come her with her index finger. Not one for denying his sugar baby Askeladd obliged and before long he was in between his sugar baby’s legs.

In truth, (Name) was more than just Askeladd’s sugar baby she was practically a princess, his princess.

It wasn’t long before Askeladd had her legs on his shoulders with him ontop of her fucking her with his cock buried balls deep inside her while his sugar baby was simply enjoying the feel of Askeladd’s cock.

Askeladd watched (Name)’s breasts move up and down that matched his thrusts as he fucked her how she wanted. Askeladd was enjoying himself as he would tell her “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” While repeatedly lightly patting her cheek, moaning a “fuck” when he felt her needy cunt squeeze around his cock that was already leaking cum inside her.

(Name) was in a world of her own as her mind was blank as the only thing she cared about was Askeladd’s cock, her toes curling was something she didn’t know she doing until much later. Soon enough, (Name) was thanking Askeladd saying “Thank you, for the cock.” Askeladd felt his ego rise as he continued to mercilessly fuck his sugar baby on his bed, muttering a response of simply “Anytime.”

Before long, Askeladd heard his sugar baby mutter a “right there, daddy” a button that she knew if Askeladd heard she wouldn’t hear the end of it and after a year of denying her kink she finally said it. Smirking Askeladd stopped his thrusts completely as he watched and heard (Name) practically beg him to keep going but refused as he kept his cock still.

“Say it agin.”

“Again?”

“Oh? I thought you wanted my cock? Don’t want it anymore?”

Askeladd teased again as his right hand went to her throat, he didn’t press he just placed his hand there.

“I do-I ..I fuck me daddy.”

(Name) was emberassed but the lust had completely set in and she just wanted to be fucked again. Askeladd wasn’t pleased and he wanted to hear her say it more and he was going to as he continued the pace it once was. Like before, (Name) was in Askeladd’s hands once more and he was able to make her call him daddy. Everytime she would say his name instead of “daddy” he threatened to slow his pace down, thinking to himself he would teach her what he wanted hear to say while she took his cock.

The thought sent Askeladd into a blind lust that he moaned a dragged out “I’ll fill you up with my cum.” And “I’ll cum into your sweet pussy until I can’t anymore, princess.” Askeladd wasn’t loud but he wasn’t quiet either as he heard (Name) whimper and almost cry “Yes daddy” whenever he spoke.

Askeladd’s hands were now on her waist and he tilted his head back as his thrusts became erratic and wild as though it didn’t matter how many times he thrusted inside of her it wasn’t enough.

“Askel-daddy I’m going to cum if you keep this up!”

“That’s what I want, princess.”

Askeladd replied back as he was just using (Name)’s body for his own pleasure now as he never felt so good in any woman. A college student who needed his help was what Askeladd had fallen for even though that wasn’t part of the deal. Nonetheless, Both reached their orgasm in a rush as the pleasure ran thru their veins as (Name) felt Askeladd’s cock twitch with excitement as his cum filled her cunt so much she wasn’t for sure when her sugar daddy would stop.

“So good.”

Both stated at the same time as they tried to catch their breath.

A few days later, (Name) was at the bank with her mother doing her monthly bills as she talked to everyone at the bank. More like, everyone talked to her as she was friendly with everyone and everyone loves to see her. (Name) was currently at the receptionist desk writing a expensive check for her mother since she didn’t believe doing online banking.

The receptionist was just going to take the check but was stopped by a familiar CEO, who saw (Name) and her mother come in. It was a man by the name of Roald who had just recently become friends with (Name) telling the sweet receptionist that he would deposit the check instead, which was fine with her as she wanted to take a break.

It was also a good thing he did arrive because the check was to above what she could deposit and needed a boss anyway.

“Why are you depositing all this money?”

“It’s my mother’s birthday today and I wanted to do something nice.”

Roald looked at (Name) then back to the check then back to her before finally going ahead and depositing the check by running it thru a small machine. In the mean time the two talked and joked with each other. Roald did flirt with her, (Name) was sweet and good looking girl but she never lead him on or would reject him if he asked for a date.

He was a bit persistent.

“(Name), sweetie. I wanted you to meet my friend.”

(Name) heard her mother call for her and tap her on the shoulder turning around (Name) wasn’t expecting to see Askeladd and a beautiful woman beside him. (Name) felt her blood run cold as her sugar daddy was right in front of her.

“This is my friend, Lydia and her son Askeladd. I just met the young man today.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Lydia and this is my son Askeladd.”

The woman stuck out her hand for (Name) to shake and she did with a smile even though she was nervous. Askeladd on the other hand, found this all amusing. Who would have thought their mothers had known each other for 4 years now, that was what Askeladd had found out.

“Since it’s your birthday today why don’t we all go out for lunch. My treat.”

Lydia offered with a sweet smile as (Name)’s mother took her up on her offer making (Name) nervous as she looked at Askeladd who was still calm about everything as a matter of fact the man offered to pay for dinner instead of Lydia which both women enjoyed even more and before they left nearly the whole bank waved (Name)’s mother goodbye.

When the two arrived at a high end restaurant (Name)’s mother was so relieved to get out the car as she had never been in a sports car, much less a luxury sports car that was just too fast for her. Lydia checked on her by rubbing her back, a little chuckle left (Name) as she did drive a bit fast. But her smirk disappeared once she heard Lydia’s voice.

“That car looks like my son’s old car.”

(Name) almost froze as she saw Lydia look at her car, however Askeladd mentioned that (Name) must have great taste when she got the car and Lydia agreed. The whole thing made (Name) nervous as she was having breakfast not only with her sugar daddy but his mother and hers as well, this wasn’t what (Name) was expecting when she woke up this morning.

As the two mothers talked and had their tea while sitting beside each other, Askeladd was sitting beside her at the table. From what (Name) could tell Askeladd seemed to be calm but when the two women were too enamored in their conversation he placed his hand on her thigh getting her attention.

“Did you have fun at the bank this morning?”

“I wouldn’t say fun.”

“Really? You seemed happy with that one fellow.”

Fellow.

(Name) knew from the tone of Askeladd’s voice that he wasn’t too thrilled about seeing her talking with a handsome man, much less one with just as much influence as he had.

“You’re not jealous are you? He’s just a friend at the bank.”

“Not at all, I was just curious. What’s his name?”

(Name) could tell Askeladd wasn’t Roald’s biggest fan as she could tell from the way Askeladd was acting. Smiling at the handsome blonde man she happily gave him answer.

“The handsome guy who works at the bank.”

Askeladd chuckled and didn’t inquire about Roald anymore that would come much later.

No.

Askeladd was a cunning man and knew when to strike at the right time.

Morning was always ideal.

Right in his kitchen, of course.

The wealthy business man had his sugar baby over the kitchen counter with his cock deep inside her cunt, repeatedly hitting her g-spot as his hands massaged her breasts making her moan a loud. Whispering in her ear “Tell me who he is.” Or “You can tell me baby girl.”

Even though she would whimper back “he’s just a friend.” Over and over again her sugar daddy wasn’t happy with her answer and that was fine. The man knew his sugar baby wouldn’t leave him any time soon for anyone, he treated her too good as he would later on that day spoil her with more money and maybe another round of sex.

But as of right now he would enjoy his sugar baby’s cunt and afterwards he would visit the bank.

✨Rukia-Writes✨