#recently been on a bit of a custard hit

[sunny-daysss]

Just remembered how much of a banger Funky Again by Custard is

[nohoney]

im lit so here’s something with keigo

tw: drug use (weed), some spice and some fluff

you and your boyfriend love to get high.

you and keigo have a small cabinet dedicated to your smoking habits. little bongs, a few pipes of cool or unique designs, your stash box of course, some novelty grinders, and flavored papers for rolling. it’s funny because you guys have more things to smoke weed out of than the actual weed.

“i can’t wait to try the peach one! i hope it’s as good as the strawberries!” you express from the kitchen as you pour two glasses of pineapple juice. keigo picked up an eighth on the way home along with new flavored rolling papers to try out. you’d been stuck on the strawberry flavored ones for a bit and wanted to try something new.

keigo is carefully packing the ground up flower into his perfectly rolled cone. you were decent at it but he was definitely better so he’s the designated joint roller between the two of you. “i still really like the cookies one, those are my favorites.” he comments as he finishes up packing the flower into the cone.

coming to join him on the couch, you set down the glasses of juice onto the coffee table and watch your boyfriend finish up rolling the joint. you look at the cute design of smiley faces on the paper, a little surprised that there weren’t pictures of peaches for a peach flavor. that was the case for the strawberries and cookies paper the two of had tried before.

“alrighty, all good to go!” keigo finishes off the tip to the joint and presents it in front of you. “pretty right?”

“oh me? thank you baby.” you giggle as you put away the rolling tray and grinder into its designated spot.

like the gentleman he is, Keigo always gives you first turn. he places the joint between your lips and lights it for you, his eyes trained on the flame of the lighter before pulling it away. he begins to tell you about his day as you take your first few hits from the joint. you can taste the subtle peach flavor and smack your lips with a happy hum before handing your boyfriend the joint for his turn.

back and forth the two of smoke and make conversation about each other’s day or over gossip you heard recently. when there’s only the roach left, keigo stubs out the rest of it on the ashtray before leaning back to get comfortable on the couch and pulling you in to join him.

you’ve got a roster of things the two of you like to watch while high and your favorite are cooking asmr videos. specifically baking and watching bento boxes get made, it’s just so satisfying to watch. and luckily keigo is also the chef between the two of you so even when he’s high, he makes note of certain recipes that you point out and say you’d like to try.

sometimes you smoke to sleep, smoke to make the time pass by, smoke to paint when a creative mood strikes, and you smoke to fuck also.

keigo’s eyes are trained on the video of custard cream donuts being made when your hand sneaks beneath his gray sweats and carefully cups his balls through his boxer briefs. he doesn’t mind making the first move but he loves when you do it first. it’s just so cute how you’re so casual about it now when he remembers fondly how shy you were at first. without being asked, he spreads his legs a touch wider as you massage him in the palm of your hand.

his dick slowly starts to swell and his mind swims through a dreamy cotton as the video shows the prepared dough being fried into donuts of a beautiful golden brown. he’s half hard when you move from massaging his balls to carefully stroking the outline of his cock through the material of his underwear. keigo only sighs through his nose as you idly pet him, his arm remaining curled around your waist while your head is tucked under his chin.

“off please?” you ask simply when you tug on the hem of his t-shirt. keigo obliges you and also pushes down his underwear and sweats. your own clothes join his on the floor, leaving the both of you naked in your own living room. “can i suck you off kei?”

he gives you a dopey smile and jerks his cock in his hand, feeling how hard he is in his own palm and excited to get your cute lips wrapped around his cock. “all yours dovey.”

keigo loves when the two of you are high and decide to fuck. he loves how much more slower it feels and there’s just more appreciation when the two of you take your time while the high stays with you. he shuts his eyes and forgets all about the queue of videos lined up the entertain the two of you. how could he care about watching macaroons being made and the pleasant sound of baking utensils and ingredients recorded into a microphone when the best sounds he hears are how sloppy you get on his dick?

“aw yeah baby, get fuckin’ sloppy down there. take me all the way and gag on this dick—fuck!” keigo groans as you deepthroat him and make his eyes roll to the back of his head. sometimes he’s torn between just closing his eyes and feeling everything or watching just to memorize how beautifully you suck his cock. sometimes you overwhelm him with your skill, when you show enthusiasm and you hold all the power while he’s helpless to the drowning pleasure you’ve learned while with him. sometimes he overwhelms you by being a bit forceful, fucking hard and fast into your mouth that it brings tears to your eyes and leaving you a drooling mess.

his dick is soaking wet with your spit when you decide to sit on his lap. “wait wait, baby i want your pussy on my face.” keigo wants to return the favor but you whine that you want him in you now, gasping when you carefully push the tip inside yourself. he couldn’t deny you when he craves your wet and tight warmth just as badly as you want to be filled full of him. “no dovey, i’ll take care of you. ride me another time.”

you don’t get much argument when you’re manhandled onto your back against the soft cushions of your couch. but you can’t find it in you to argue when keigo sensually moves his hips to fuck his cock into you. it feels good and it feels like heaven when the two of you fuck when you’re high. time slows down around you and you only become aware of each other, engrossed in one another that’s so sickeningly sweet you’d think the two of you are still in the honeymoon phase.

“kei, feels good… really good.” you croon into his ear and cherish how he moans. one hand is tangled in his hair and the other one slowly scratches down his back to leave red trails into his skin. it’s a pleasant sting that doesn’t take away from the high but makes it better instead.

his face is tucked into your neck, your soft tits are pressed against his own chest as you have your arms hugged around him, he’s moaning and panting as he gets closer to his finish. keigo doesn’t even need to look to know that you creamed on his cock because you’ve become dumb and incoherent anyway. you can barely form two words together, only capable of those cute whimpers and moans that he’s loved to hear since the first time the two of you fucked.

but you’re not as gone as he thinks you are because he feels one of your hands grasp the back of his neck and all you do is whimper, “so close baby, fill me up please…”

it drives him crazy and he desperately fucks until he’s given you what you asked for. keigo gasps and groans as he fills you up with his cum, and then he’s practically putty when you whisper against his ear, “thank you baby.”

keigo only lets you lay back and be comfortable as he cleans you up. his high has waned off a little but it’s nothing that another joint can’t fix. you’re naked underneath the soft throw blanket and still watching baking videos while he fetches snacks from the pantry, also naked. when he returns, he can still see how the high remains with you and follows your finger when you point to the screen and tell him, “try making that one!”

he agrees, bookmarking the video to follow the recipe another time before joining you underneath the blanket. but even as the videos move on from baking to potato croquettes being fried, keigo’s mind still thinks of those custard donuts he was watching while you were between his legs. he caught a glance at one of the donuts being piped full of the custard and overflowing with cream.

just like he did with you.

“hand me my phone dovey.” he asks of you since his phone is on your side of the couch. he’s scrolling through a food delivery app and searching for a specific bakery that he knows will deliver. when you ask what food he wants delivered, he answers with a big smile and eyes still red from the high, “custard donuts.”

[diavolosthots]

Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!

You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things

Warning: uh.... Angst?

Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)

“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess. 

And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help. 

Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed. 

However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!” 

Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”

Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this. 

“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.” 

Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”

“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.” 

You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.” 

[skyemisc]

Deuce Spade Birthday SSR Story Translation

NRC Newspaper Interview: Birthday Interview Feature

~Deuce Edition~

Option: Happy birthday. What were your thoughts in the days leading to your birthday?

Deuce: Thank you! I’m happy to hear “Happy Birthday!” from so many people.

Deuce: But… Honestly it was a little nerve-wracking.

Deuce: I figured I was used to these kinds of celebrations thanks to the the Unbirthday parties…

Deuce: It’s really different when you’re the center of attention.

Deuce: Still, everyone put in a lot of effort for today, so I’ll enjoy it to the fullest!

Deuce: A lot of my favorite egg dishes were also made and I can’t wait to eat them.

Screen: You really enjoy egg dishes, huh.

Deuce: Yeah. I like both eating and cooking them.

Deuce: I used to think fried eggs were simple. Just put the eggs over heat, but when I did it myself, I found out that was more to it.

Deuce: Making an ideal sunny-side up egg was pretty challenging… Back in the day I practiced quite a bit.

Deuce: Oh, speaking of… A while ago, Clover-senpai and I got pretty into making different egg dishes!

Deuce: Talking about what would be good in omelets, and teaching me how to make a simple-to-make custard…

Deuce: I never talked about egg dishes that much before, so it was really fun.

Deuce: Well, Ace was nearby going “I don’t know understand this cooking gibberish” and looked bored out of his mind.

Deuce: When I learn the super special melt-in-your-mouth custard recipe, I wanna try making that next time.

Deuce: Once I get that down, I’ll tell you. Feel free to bring Grim too for a bite.

Episode 2:

Screen: What do you enjoy?

Deuce: I like riding on a Magical Wheel. Also, I like tinkering with machines.

Deuce: Mom’s hopeless with machines, so I was always the one setting up the different household electronics.

Deuce: Instead of reading the instructions, she’d reluctantly try it out herself. It was fun to watch.

Deuce: Well, apparently to the people around me, it seems that repairing and services appliances is more of a specialty than a hobby to me.

Deuce: Occasionally, people would come and bring broken appliances and it was kinda troubling. I’m not that skilled, honestly…

Deuce: Earlier, when I tried listening to music with the Dorm Lounge’s worn-out cassette player, it stopped working.

Deuce: You know the old saying to hit appliances to fix them? I jokingly hit it and it started playing again.

Deuce: Diamond-senpai just so happen to be nearby to see it…

Deuce: He went around and told people half-jokingly that “Deuce-chan’s hands caused a miracle!”

Deuce: Word started spreading and it became a huge thing. It even got to my friends at some point…

Deuce: I kept getting told “Wow, you can repair different machines? That’s cool!”. I’m at a loss…

Screen: What are you dreams for the future?

Deuce: To become a police officer. …Not just any division… I want to join the division specialized in anti-mage combat, which is said to be the cream of the crop even among police.

Deuce: I know getting into the trade won’t be easy, but I have no intention of giving up.

Deuce: For the sake of my future, I’m doing all I can while I’m here.

Deuce: Every single day, I practice magic, I practice flying, and I even review my lectures on top of that.

Deuce: I don’t exactly have the best test scores in class though. W-Well I guess I just have to do my best from now on.

Deuce: Also, what I’m putting my efforts most into simulating situations in my head!

Deuce: I’ll watch movies and dramas where the lead role is a police officer and study how they do investigations and catch the criminals.

Deuce: I’ve memorized how to look cool in a chase and what signature phrase they’ll say when arresting the bad guy.

Deuce: I’m all set, to go to a crime scene immediately, aren’t I?

Episode 3:

Screen: What do you normally do for fun?

Deuce: Recently I’ve been playing cards with my friends at the dorm a lot.

Deuce: I used to be so into magical wheels, so I wasn’t used to playing games with my friends. It was really fun.

Deuce: Otherwise, I’ll play different app games; like ones where you build towns or beat monsters.

Deuce: Oh yeah, a while ago there was a big thing going on in the dorm with puzzle games.

Deuce: You have to match the same colors and then it disappears. The rules are simple and it’s really entertaining.

Deuce: But more and more students came to join and stayed up late…

Deuce: Many wouldn’t wake up in time and Dorm Leader Rosehearts would get at the necks of a lot of the students…

Deuce: …Actually, I was one of them too. I got too into a showdown with Ace, I stayed up the whole night…

Deuce: Even after telling myself I’d take everything more seriously… I learned my lesson.

Deuce: Since then, I only allow myself to play games for one hour a day.

Screen: What do you do on your days off?

Deuce: I do a lot of physical training.

Deuce: Sometimes when I’m in the sports grounds, I end up training with Jack, who’s in the same club as me—the track and field club.

Deuce: Even if we start off practicing on our own, we end up getting competitive on reflex being close to each other on the field…

Deuce: I start out planning to do some light training but then it ends up like an all-out battle…

Deuce: On some days, I end up running over a few dozen laps before I come to my senses.

Deuce: By the end of it, we’ll both be tired and exhausted. Makes you wonder what exactly we’re doing on a day off, right?

Deuce: Oh, recently Epel’s been joining us too. He’s got a lot more guts than you’d expect from his appearance.

Deuce: …I’ve always liked riding around on Magical Wheels with my fellow comrades, and that goes for jogging too.

Deuce: Running with everyone versus by yourself is just so much more satisfying and gives the best feeling.

Deuce: Ah… B-But I do more than just training on my days off. I take care to study too!

Screen: Thank you for letting me listen to your stories. Once again, happy birthday!

[kyotarou]

super store sentiments pt. 3

part 1 | part 2

characters: keishin ukai

plot: you capture the eye of the sakanoshita market owner, keishin ukai

warnings: implied nsfw

a/n: this is kinda long i apologize ahdhwh

Ukai’s wrapped around your finger.

He’s so enamored by you but his ego doesn’t let him admit this.

Kageyama is still suspicious of you and his coach but he keeps this to himself.

One day, Ukai ends practice a bit early and calls Kageyama back.

He’s thinking, “Wtf did I do this time-”

Ukai tries so hard to act cool but his nerves are taking over.

“So, about your sibling-”

Kageyama’s PISSED because this old hag really cut practice to talk about you.

He was lowkey shaking cause he thought he was in trouble.

100% ready to kick Ukai’s ass cause he doesn’t want to add his coach fooling around with his older sibling to his list of concerns.

But he sees the way Ukai’s eyes light up when he talks about you and how giddy he is like he’s back in high school, so Kageyama cuts him some slack.

“Fine, what do you want to know.”

Ukai learns that you recently got a job at the bookstore near his store, which is why you’ve been coming in so often.

Kageyama tells him the basics; favorite color, season, hobby, that you love custard buns and that one brand of ramune (but Ukai already knew that).

At the store, Ukai has a basket with your favorite snacks and drinks along with flowers in your favorite color.

He’s planning on surprising you at the bookstore.

He’s super nervous and second-guesses the gifts, but the thought of your happy face makes his heart go doki doki. 

He knows you come in around a certain time, so he leaves a couple minutes early.

He catches you right as you leave the bookstore, heading in the direction of his store.

You’re pleasantly surprised to see him but become confused at all the stuff in his hands.

“Hello, Ukai-san! What’s all this?”

Ukai’s mind goes blank and his legs turn into jelly. The words get caught in his throat and all that comes out is:

“You. Me. Date.”

He sinks at your shocked face, thinking it’s rejection, until you start laughing and blushing.

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you! Is this weekend okay?”

Ukai wants to faint and his heart is racing so fast, but he’s also overjoyed.

You two walk back to his store, your arm looped around his, eating a custard bun from the basket as he watches you with the softest eyes.

Your little brother has a team bonding on Saturday (Hinata’s idea), so you schedule your date for that day.

It’s pretty casual, mainly exploring the city, eating food and getting to know each other more. 

You and Ukai rest at a park as the sun’s about to set.

You slip your hand into his and rest your head on his shoulder, wishing the day didn’t have to end.

IMPLIED NSFW UNDER THE CUT, YOU CAN END HERE IF YOU LIKE

An idea hits you—since your brother is still out, there’s no one home…

“Why don’t we take this back to my place?”

Ukai is so taken aback cause he did not expect you to be this bold, but no complaints.

You run back home and get it on the moment you enter your bedroom.

Ukai is a surprisingly gentle lover since it’s the first time y’all are doing it with each other.

Ends with cuddles and lots of soft kisses and compliments followed by a quick nap in each other’s arms.

When you wake up, you realize how late it is and wonder why your brother isn’t back yet, which is good cause you have more time with Ukai but you also don’t want Tobio to walk in on y’all.

You have to drag Ukai out of your bed because all he wants to do is nap and cuddle.

Right when you’re about to open the door and say goodbye, the lock clicks.

“(Y/N), I’m ho-”

The three of you stare at each other for a while (especially Kageyama who’s focused on you wearing Ukai’s signature orange hoodie) before you give Keishin a quick kiss then shove him out the door, promising to call him later.

Your brother, who’s fuming on the inside, is eerily quiet.

“Tobio, please say something.”

“...”

“...”

Kageyama: 🎶😀murder on my mind 😀🎶

Practice after that is very awkward but Ukai and Tobio learn to use the situation against each other.

If Tobio’s being bratty one day and won’t stop complaining, Ukai’s voice drops so only the two of them can hear and he’ll say: “You’re a lot like your sibling, can’t keep your mouth shut like that one night we fu-”

On the other hand, if Tobio asks for a favor and Ukai says no, he’ll hit him with: “If (Y/N) was asking I bet you’d drop to your knees and say yes- you probably did that that one night.”

It’s all wholesome banter.

[it-was-summer]

Dreaming of You (Obey me! Mammon x Reader)

Requested: haha no

Plot: You and Mammon keep having the same romantic dreams with each other and you both are refusing to talk about them.

Word Count: 2,487

      The air carried the smell of sweet and blissful orange blossoms, carrying the promise of spring with it as well. You let the sweet, spring breeze move through your hair, closing your eyes and relishing in the feel of it all. 

When you opened your eyes you were lying in a meadow surrounded by a multiplied of magnificent flowers. Buttercups, vetches, and dandelions surrounded your body, tickling your face gently sporadically. The sky was a vibrant and cloudless blue, you felt peace wash over you with every breath. 

Your tranquility thrived at the sound of melodic laughter next to you, your laughter following your companion's and the world felt like it slowed when you turned to look at him. 

Dazzling white hair matched with a brilliant smile stood out among the world around him, making him all the more alluring. 

You turned on your side, staring at him for a second before playing with a nearby dandelion with your hand. 

You felt a rush of adrenaline race through your veins as his tan hand took yours away from the flower and brought it to his lips, brushing his lips over your knuckles so delicately you were sure you wouldn't be able to feel it if you weren't aware of the action. Your eyes watched as he brought your hand to cup the side of his face and watching as he turned his head to kiss the palm of your hand after doing so. 

You let out a burst of laughter in your euphoria before whispering his name in a tone as gentle as the breeze in the meadow "Mammon," 

You jolted up with a sharp gasp, a feeling of disappointment and loneliness slithering in as you stare at the empty and dark bedroom around you. Sitting up straighter, you brought your hand up to your face, still feeling the touch of Mammon on it somehow, as if he had touched you when in reality it was nothing but a heavenly dream now lodged into your memory. 

The following morning you ran into Mammon on your way down to the dining room. Your lips itched to spill the dream to your friend, but you could feel your throat tighten with anxiety resulting in you muttering a soft "Hello." instead. 

As you chewed on your breakfast, you came to the presumption that if you did tell Mammon about your dream you would only be greeted with a flustered response, followed by the assurance that what you had dreamed was not possible. As you swallowed you came to terms with not saying anything about it, enjoying the pretense of peace that came with said terms. 

By the afternoon, you wished that Mammon wasn't your close friend. The way he put his arm around your shoulders, as the two of you walked together, sent pleasant shivers down your spine. When he would look up at you and smile had transported you to a spring day and the way he whispered stupid jokes in your ear made you yearn for his lips on your skin. 

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. 

You drew in a dramatic amount of air through your nose before exhaling in an equally dramatic way through your mouth. You couldn't stop thinking about Mammon, every little thing he did made you desperate for his touch, his gaze, his lips, anything. You were above begging and you sure as hell were not about to beg Mammon to kiss you. Imagine what that would do to his ego, he would never let you live that down. 

Running a hand through your hair, you tried to make your mind go blank as you settled down in the library, alone. 

"Little human, I have been looking all over for you." whispered an optimistic voice in your right ear as tan hands gripped the back of your chair. You let out a cry of shock as Mammon tilted your chair back so he could look at you. 

"Mammon," you grabbed aimlessly at the air in front of you in a poor attempt to steady yourself "I'm going to tip over and it'll be your fault!" 

Mammon let out a brief snicker before simply saying that "The great Mammon would never let that happen!" before he steadied your chair and sat across from you. 

"You look stressed," he said leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk you both shared. 

"I'm not."

"Oh, you so it is worse than I thought!" 

You gently reached across the table to give his muscular arm a weak slap "I am perfectly fine," you tensed feeling Mammon grab hold of your hand and interlocking it with his own. 

                             _____________________________________

Mammon gazed at the night sky, sprinkled with constellations and promises of adventures. He only pulled his gaze from the sky when he felt your arms wrap around his torso, pulling him into a crushing hug. Mammon didn't even need any time to reciprocate hug, it was just an automatic response. 

Currently, his brain was filled with nothing but you. The way you were burying your face deeper into his chest, the way you eased into his touch, and how your body fit perfectly in his arms. 

You lifted your head from his chest and leaned in, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek, barely pulling away before you went to kiss his lips. 

Mammon woke up with a frustrated sigh, blaming himself for having another dream revolving around you, only taking comfort in the fact that you didn't know what he was dreaming about. He was, unfortunately, incorrect. You had just woke up, heart leaping from your chest over the same dream. 

Mammon ultimately decided that he needed to talk to someone about his recent dilemma. Just not you. He didn't think he could handle you laughing in his face and rejecting him. He could take a lot of things, but not that. 

                                       ____________________________

"I keep dreaming about them,"

"Dreaming?" 

"I hate these dreams,"

"No, you don't."

"You don't know what I hate Beel!"

Beelzebub gave Mammon a stoic stare and let out a low hum, not attempting to interact with Mammon's denial any further, instead, he took a small bite out of his custard. Mammon let out a frustrated sigh before muttering a soft "They make me," he paused in a failed attempt to hide his embarrassment "they make me expect things." 

"Oh,"

"Don't just say that like it's nothing! Beel, what do I do? What should I say? Do I tell them?"

"Mammon, I think you're overthinking things," 

"Mammon, overthinking?" questioned a new voice in the kitchen. 

Mammon let out a girlish yelp seeing you wander into the kitchen with a delicate smile on your lips. 

You could see the unease in Mammon's handsome face, a look that made your stomach twist with worry. You walked closer cautiously, only to find that Mammon was slowly drawing further away from you. You felt a new sensation pierce your heart and swallowed your pain with a little laugh before grabbing a bottle of water and leaving the kitchen without another sound, ignoring the way Mammon's hand reached for yours on your way out. 

                     _______________________________________

You stood in the cold downpour of summer rain, tilting your head up towards the blackened skies with closed eyes, feeling the heavy raindrops hit your skin. The air smelled of rain and a familiar cologne causing you to let out a long sigh. You only opened your eyes when you no longer felt the embrace of rain, smiling seeing Mammon hovering over you with a black umbrella. "Share with me this small umbrella."

"Who cares if I get wet." 

"I care,"

You didn't say anything after that and quickly grabbed hold of his hand, squeezing it tight as the two of you walked through the downpour. 

The two of you soon appeared in your bedroom in Lamentation, the room filled with short laughs and conversation. Your head was on Mammon's stomach, feeling him breathe beneath you as you closed your eyes in a captivating moment of bliss. 

You opened your eyes once more to a dark room, your heart racing in your chest and your body aching for Mammon. You let out a frustrated groan and rolled out of bed, walking to the kitchen in search of a remedy for your romantic conscience. You frowned seeing the leading man of your dreams already in the kitchen drinking something out if a mug. "Mammon,"  You whispered out, watching as he nearly dropped the mug in his hands. "What are you doing up this late at night?" 

"Uh," he swallowed nervously " It seems that the Sandman doesn’t want to grant me a much-needed visit," he explained lamely before giving you a soft smile. "Why are you awake?" 

"I had a weird dream," you bluntly muttered before opening the fridge and reaching for something that resembled milk. "I'm just grabbing a drink before," 

Mammon cut you off suddenly "What was your dream about?" 

"Nothing in particular,"

"It must have been something,"

"Mammon," you put the milk looking container back in the fridge "Why do you care so much?"

"Just talk to me," he shrugged a little "Maybe it will help me sleep," he said in a lame attempt to convince you to stay with him longer, even if it was to discuss a nightmare. He knew it was greedy of him to try and tempt you into talking to him, but it was always worth a shot. 

You thought about it, staring at the liquid in your cup before shaking your head and giving Mammon a gentle "No," you set the cup on the counter "It was just a silly dream." you argued gently with a small smile. "You're sweet for caring so much, thank you." With that, you grabbed your cup once more and headed back towards your private den of romantic dreams. Mammon bit back a response as he watched you leave and let his pent up expressions of love escape him with a heavy exhale of air. 

                  _____________________________________________

"Asmodeus, I told you to drop it." You said as pushed past him on your to the dining room. 

"Desire," He said as he walked in front of you again, stopping you a few doors down from the room. " Desire is my thing! I cannot just 'drop it'! You have to tell me, right now, what you're wanting or I'll find it out myself." he vowed with a hungry grin, excited to see you yearning for something, or someone, so desperately. 

Just as you were about to rebuff Mammon passed the two of you, a frown on his lips at the sight of Asmodeus talking to you. He hid his disdain when the two of you made eye contact and gave the two of you a charming smile. You heard a soft chuckle from Asmo, but when you looked over in his direction he was walking away from the two of you, silently telling you that he knew. 

                          _______________________________________

Birds sang as the sun danced on your skin allowing your thoughts to transcend and leave you peaceful. You stood in a shaded forest with a dirt path, branches hanging down to your level and spots of sunlight scattered through branches and pink, lovely petals. As you ventured down the fair path you spotted Mammon, contrasting with the nature around him once more, in the branches of a cherry tree. He was picking at the pink petals surrounding him when you came into his view.  He motioned for you to come up into the tree and you did just that, sitting next to him on a strong and sturdy branch. 

"You remind me of these blossoms," he whispered as he leaned his head onto your shoulder. 

"You remind me of what comes after the blossoms," you calmly stated before lifting his head so the two of you could see each other. 

"A cherry?" 

You laughed "No, I am saying you have potential." 

Mammon stared at you with tender eyes before settling and nodding in agreement. 

That was the only night that you didn't wake up. You thought waking up to a vacant room was bad, but dreaming the whole moment through only made your emotions for the demon grow. He was always on your mind and when he wasn't on your mind you found yourself craving something...anything. You weren't sure you could live through another one of these fantasies. You were going crazy, you were sure of it. 

You couldn't decide what to think about the dreams either. Were they simply telling you that you wanted to be in love or that you wanted Mammon and you to be in love? You had to talk to him. You just had to get it all out, you were sure and he would call you mean names and remind you that they were just senseless dreams. 

It was after dinner when you pulled Mammon from the hallway into your bedroom. Mammon laughed a little and gave you a flirtatious little smile before seeing the serious look on your face. "Oh, come on. I was just jokin'," You sighed before pulling him over to your bed and forcing him to sit down while you stood in front of him. "Kay, now you are scaring me, what's wrong?" he said, leaning back on his elbows, staring up at your now pacing figure. 

"I," You huffed and stopped your pacing before playing with your hands "It started a few days ago," you began in an embarrassed voice. 

When you finished Mammon stared at you as pale as a ghost. "I know it's stupid and I'm stupid,"

"No!" He suddenly exclaimed before clearing his throat lightly to clear up the desperation in his voice. "I have been meaning to tell that I have been having romantic fantasies of my own," he groaned a little bit as he stood up. "I just don't understand how we had the same dreams."

"Huh?"

"I know it is going to sound crazy, but I have been dreaming the same things as you have. The kissing, the stupid nature, and everything!" he revealed as he took a step closer towards you. "I was scared you were going to reject me." 

"Reject you? Mammon, they are just dreams. You don't have to confess anything."

"But I do! Please hear me out I," You didn't give him time to get another word out as you leaned in and kissed his passionately on the lips. 

The kiss was real and perfect. It was everything you had wanted. You were about to pull away when you felt Mammon's hands grab your waist and pull you closer, kissing you harder. 

You pulled away laughing. Mammon frowned hearing your laugh ready to hear a hurtful comment but was pleasantly surprised when a happy "Finally," left your lips. 

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine

Reader and Erik take a bae-cation after Reader has her baby. She is having breast pains from breastfeeding so Erik suggests soothing her.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, 

[Side note: Writing this made me so horny....]

Baby girl and her Baby Daddy decided to stay in a fancy hotel in Vegas for the weekend while her mom, Miss Pam, watched their handsome baby boy Omari. Omari was a 9lbs 10oz baby with a head full of shiny jet black curls, droopy cheeks, and fat arms and legs that reminded you of the michelin tire man. Erik made her put in a two week notice with her job in medical billing and coding because he wanted her to be home with their son. He had enough money to take care of all three of them. Y/N didn’t like that at first but she eventually agreed to it. She was actually very happy that she did. Taking this bae-cation with Erik for the weekend was already hard since she couldn’t be near her son. Currently, Y/N and Erik decided to hit up the casino so Erik could play his blackjack. He’s so good at it that he played in a few tournaments and won a lot of money. He was known in that casino for his skills. Y/N knew he was going to win every game so she went off on her own to play at the slot machines. Erik has all the luck while Y/N doesn’t. She lost every game at those slots.

“Fuck this, bruh,” She got up from the cramped seat, adjusting her denim skirt, “This is some bullshit. Let me go get Baby Daddy because I’m hungry for some wings.”

Y/N began to walk away but an elderly lady that was seated next to her kindly taps her on the shoulder. Y/N smiles at the woman before approaching her chair.

“Sugar, did you recently have a little one?” She asks in a smooth tone that reminded her of her grandmother.

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/N smiles with her dimples, “A boy, his name is Omari.”

“I bet he is very handsome. I’m only asking because,” The Elserly woman lowered her voice to almost a mumble. She didn’t need to, the casino was very loud, “You look to be leaking from your breasts-“

“OH MY GOSH,” Y/N began to panic, covering her aching breasts, “Is it bad?!”

“Sweetheart, calm down,” The elderly lady laughs lightly, “It’s alright baby, it happens, do you have a jacket?”

“I do,” Y/N left it with Erik, “It’s with my boyfriend.”

“Where is he located?” The elderly lady got up from her seat, standing at about 4ft.

“One of the blackjack tables,” Y/N takes the elderly ladies offered hand.

“Let’s go find him and get your jacket-“

“You don’t have to ma’am, honestly-“

“No, but I insist,” She was persistent just like her nana,” “Come on sugar, I’d like to meet this young man.”

———————-

Once again, Erik wins. He ignored the jealous and vengeful looks from the other men whose whores huddled around them with their arms draped over their shoulders. The Experienced Table Games Dealer gathers all of Erik’s winnings, instructing him to take it to the Cashier. With his winnings stored away, Erik grabs Y/N’s jacket, ready to head for the slot machines but he spots her with a little old lady dressed in outrageous floral patterned clothing. She was hugging the front of her breasts with one arm while the other was being held by the little old woman. Confused, Erik walks you to them, giving Y/N and the elderly lady a smile.

“What’s going on here? How are you doing,” Erik held his hand out for the elderly lady to shake, “I’m Erik.”

“Dorothy,” She spoke with kindness that warmed Erik’s heart, “So this is the handsome father of your son Omari?”

“Yes” Y/N smiles, “This is him. Did you win, baby?”

“You know I did,” Erik held up his winnings, “I was just about to come get you so we can cash this out and get something to eat. So, what’s going on?”

“You’re lovely lady here had a bit of an accident,” The elderly lady discretely points to Y/N’s breasts, “I noticed at the slot machines and decided to walk over with her. She needs a jacket, young man.”

Erik’s eyes traveled towards Y/N’s arm draped over her breasts, “Baby, you didn’t put the pads in like I reminded you to?”

“I did.”

“Okay,” Erik places his winnings on his seat, grabbing Y/N’s jacket, and helping her put it on whole his chest was close to hers so no one would see, “Thank you Miss Dorothy-“

“Yes, thank you so much, you didn’t have to do this for me at all,” Y/N hugs Miss Dorothy close, “You are so sweet Miss Dorothy.”

“Anytime sweetie,” Miss Dorothy squeezes Erik’s hand, “Take care of her, handsome? She’s a good one I can tell.”

“Oh, I know, I got her, Miss Dorothy,” Erik gave her a charming smile filled with dimples and shiny teeth with a little gold, “You take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will! I need to head back to my friends before the bus leaves,” Miss Dorothy waves one final goodbye, “Tell Omari that Miss Dorothy says hello!”

“We will!” Y/N waves before turning back to Erik, “she’s such a sweet lady, baby.”

“She is,” Erik rubs Y/N’s shoulder, “Let’s get back to the room so you can change.”

Erik wraps his arm around Y/N’s shoulder as they walked to the Cashier so he could cash in his winnings before heading to the hotel.

——————————

“That’s a lot of winnings, baby.”

Y/N watches Erik handle all the money, 10 thousand dollars of it.

“I could have won more but those motherfuckers needed a break from the ass whipping I gave em’.”

Y/N was standing in front of a wall length mirror near their hotel closet. She was currently adding the padding to her nipples to help absorb the milk that flowed from her heavy breasts.

“You need some help, Baby girl?” Erik spoke while stretched out on the bed, twirling a single dread, “You liked how I did it the last time.”

“Yes, please,” Y/N stops, looking through the mirror watching Erik get up from the bed, shirtless and sexy as he walks over to Y/N. Her large breasts still leaked a little so she grabs a rag to dab it gently. Erik stood over her short frame from behind, taking the pads in his hand, and reaching around to lift one of her generous breasts so he could have a good eye for where to place the pads.

“Ouch,” Y/N fusses when he lifted her breast, “Baby, they’re still sensitive...be gentle.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Erik loosened his hold, “Better?”

“Mhm,” She watched as her milk spilled onto Erik’s hand, “Erik, be quick! It’s leaking more.”

“Calm down, and relax,” Erik places the pads, “Now pass me some of that hospital tape.”

Y/N hands Erik some of the skin safe hospital tape.

“Thank you,” Erik accepts pieces of tape from Y/N while he placed them around the padding to keep it in place, “Okay, let me do the next one,” Erik looked over Y/N’s shoulder, slowly lifting her breast and watching as little droplets of milk spilled on his fingers. He adds the pads, quietly accepting the tape, and securing the pads. She was all finished.

“This is a lot better,” Y/N takes her bra from off of the ironing board that she used before they went to the casino, “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Anytime, love,” Erik kisses her jaw, “You wanna get something food?”

“Wings!” Y/N shouts.

“Okay,” Erik trailed his kisses to her neck, “You still smell like Omari.”

“I’ve been attached to his chunky butt for months now. I can’t get his smell off of me.”

Omari smelled like peaches and cream.

“Mmm,” Erik hums before backing away, he looks down at his fingers still wet with milk.

Erik sucks on his fingers before sitting back onto the bed. The taste was creamy and sweet on his tongue. Like custard. He licks his lips, thighs swaying back and forth on the bed because his dick was growing in his jeans. He’d never tasted Y/N’s breast milk. So this is what Omari was receiving all the time like a starving child? Erik already feels left out. Y/N’s breasts once played an important role in the sexual relationship that they both shared. Now that she is breastfeeding, Erik feels as though her breasts are off limits, or no longer a part of that sexual relationship. Erik feels that Y/N’s milk-filled breasts are now reserved for the relationship that she shares with Omari, and that's something he doesn’t feel part of. He just wanted to feel included and not jealous Everytime he looked his son in his grey eyes while he sucked on his mama.

“After we eat, can we swim?” Y/N missed going to the beach and the pool.

“Yeah, Thats fine with me, baby, anything for you.”

—————————

Y/N had Erik’s attention while they sat in Hooters eating. Her breasts were resting on the table since she had to lean over to eat her wings. Erik could see why she was sensitive and in pain. Deep veins could be seen peeking through her skin. They were engorged more than he remembered them to be. Over abundant with milk supply. He wasn’t drooling from the siracha wings he was munching on. He was drooling because he wanted to taste her sugary milk again. It reminded him of the milk after eating a bowl of sweetened cereal for breakfast.

“What?” Y/N couldn’t ignore Erik’s eyes as they watched her, “Do I have blue cheese on my face or something?”

“Nah, You’re just beautiful that’s all. What? I can’t stare at my baby, hm?”

Y/N blushes, “You can, Daddy. I like it when you look at me.”

“You should have worn a different shirt,” Erik’s eyes traveled down to her cleavage poking through her shirt, “You know them breasts got bigger they can’t fit in your shirts like they used to.”

“Why do you think I wear all your t-shirts? I have to go shopping again.”

“I should beat your ass for showing off like that,” Erik smirks while chewing.

“They’re yours so why does it matter?”

Erik leans forward on the table, “Because, I don’t wanna have to gauge a niggas eyes out for looking.”

“Daddy, don’t be violent,” Y/N spoke in a sweet voice.

“You make me more violent when you dress like that.”

Y/N sat back in her chair, straightening her back causing her breasts to poke out more. Erik had a few things in mind that he could do to those breasts. Take his hard dick, some body oil, and her big ass titties, squeeze his dick between and coat it with the oil so he could fuck her titties. Then there was the desire to be breast fed. Erik is so turned on by Y/N’s lactating and sore breasts. He couldn’t ignore the sexual fantasy that involves breastfeeding. Erotic lactation and adult breastfeeding was a new kink of his. He wanted to take Omari’s place and suck on Y/N’s breasts while she ran her fingers through his hair and whispered things like:

There you go, baby, that’s it, suck on mamas breasts.

Do you want some more? You’re so greedy.

Look how much of my milk comes out! You make me lactate more, I love that.

If she could say things like:

Daddy, the more you suck, the more my titties will milk and it’s already too much.

It may hurt when you suck on them...you suck harder than Omari...they’re so sensitive.

Daddy...Omari needs some milk too. You can’t be stingy like that...

His dick was iron hard. Erik wanted to unbutton and unzip his pants so his dick could sprang free. All the blood in his body felt like it rushed to his dick. If he squeezed it, there would be resistance for sure, his dick feeling like a pipe covered in flesh.

“Are you not hungry anymore?” Y/N grabs a siracha wing for herself, “You usually eat everything. Something must be on your mind.”

“I’m just thinking about going back to that hotel with you. You need to take care of something for me.”

“And what’s that?” Y/N looked up through her lashes at him.

“You’ll see. Let’s take this shit to go.” Erik looked around before spotting their waiter, a pretty brown-skinned girl with a bright red weave, motioning for her to come over.

“Anything else for you guys?”

“Nah, can we have some to-go boxes?” Erik pulled out his wallet.

“Sure! I’ll be back,” She walked away with a sway of her thick hips.

“Can we still go swimming?” Y/N asks while eating one more fry.

“Yeah, but not for long though.” Erik wanted to rip that top she had on right down the middle, pull down the cups of her bra, snatch those pads off, and go to town on her nipples. He imagined himself thrashing his tongue before sucking softly. He envisioned her milk dripping down the sides of his mouth and to his chin.

“What’s taking her so damn long? I only asked for boxes not another fucking meal,” Erik complained.

“Why are you acting like that? She’s coming,” Y/N rolls her eyes before throwing a French fry at his chest, “Big meany.”

The Big Meany in my pants is suffering, Erik thought.

“Finally,” Erik spoke with exhaustion as he spots their waiter walking over with a few bags and to-go containers.

“Thanks, girl,” Y/N accepts it.

“No dessert?” The waiter looked at Y/N and Erik expectantly.

“Nope-“

“Can I have a slice of cheesecake, please?”

Erik’s jaw tightened.

“Sure! Just the one?”

“Make it two. He likes the Oreo cookie one. I’ll take the original with extra whipped cream.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Erik wanted to fuss but he knew he would want that cheesecake later.

“Pick your lip up, Daddy, your pouting,” Y/N giggles, “You must be horny.”

“I am,” Erik shakes his head at her, “It’s your fucking fault.”

“Aww, I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

Erik’s mean mug made Y/N explode with laughter, her breasts smushing into the edge of the table. She winced, little whimpers escaping her mouth while she cuffed her breasts.

“They are so damn sore,” Y/N complains, “I just want to take this bra off and let my titties free.”

“Shit,” Erik spoke, “They that filled up, huh?”

“Yes. Omari will have a lot from me when we get home.”

Me too, he thought.

————————-

They pool was empty enough for both of them to enjoy but Erik was too busy watching Y/N swim back and forth. She made Erik take a few pictures of her in her swimsuit for her instagram since she’s a famous plus size Youtuber. She does clothing halls, hair, and makeup. They had been down there for only 40 minutes but it felt like five hours.

“Baby,” Erik called out to her, watching her float with her breasts poked out.

“Why aren’t you swimming?!” Y/N splashed him, “You are a party pooper.”

“Because Daddy is horny and he need you to take care of him right now.”

Y/N swam to the pool ladder, climbing out, water dripping from her body. She walked over to Erik, grabbing their towels.

“Let’s go then. You’re lucky I want some dick.”

Erik stood up, grabbing the towel from her, “You we’re gonna give me some puss either way so don’t say that.”

They made their way back to the room, Y/N keying in, flicking on only the hallway light while everything else was dark. This was the only light they really needed. Erik grabs their towels, tossing them in a wrinkled pile in the corner near the door, and wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. She giggles, one hand coming up to cup his cheek.

“You feel so good on Daddy’s dick, baby,” Erik murmured, “Touch Daddy’s dick so you can see what I’m talking about.”

Y/N reached behind her, a gasp escaping her mouth when her fingers ran up the length of him.

“That’s all for you...this dick is what nutted in that phat pussy...got all my nut in there...and look at you, gave birth to my son. He made you look even more sexier than you already were. Thicker...ass phatter, titties bigger,” Erik grinds his hips onto her ass, “These big ass titties filled with all that food for my son...Omari probably miss his mama titty in his mouth.”

“Damn, Daddy,” Y/N was super wet, “You’re nasty self.”

“Too bad I got mama all weekend. Now both titties gon’ be in my mouth.”

“Jealous?” Y/N teased.

“Fuck yeah. Daddy is jealous, baby. Omari gets all the milk and sucking while I get nothing? Ain’t fair, baby.”

“Erik...Daddy...you want some of my milk?” She was astonished.

“It taste so good.” Erik French kisses her neck, “so sweet. I liked it off my fingers earlier. Mmm, yummy.”

She could feel herself lactate.

“You gon’ let that milk drip on my tongue?”

“Fuck,” Y/N whimpers.

“Can mama breast feed me too?” The way he asked that caused Y/N’s nipples to harden.

Y/N thought about all the benefits to Erik sucking on her titties while she breast feeds him. Y/N is so sensitive to breast or nipple stimulation and she can’t help but to experience sexual feelings while breastfeeding. Breastfeeding Erik could bring about an unexpected and enjoyable aspect to their sexual relationship. Then there was the factor that the additional stimulation and removal of milk at T/N’s breast can naturally trigger her body to make more breast milk. Erik would have a much stronger suck than Omari and he could help drain her more and prevent the pain she feels.

“Yes...I’m in a lot of pain when it’s so heavy and I can’t drain them since I’m not home,” Y/N’s eyelids fluttered shut, “I can breast feed you, Daddy, but you have to be careful, okay?”

Erik grunts, his eyes in slits while he removed Y/N’s swimsuit top, “I promise I’ll take real good care of you. Damn, I just want it so bad. My dick is so hard, baby, fuck, can you suck it for me?”

Y/N didn’t say a word as she turns around, getting in her knees, pulling Erik’s trunks down. His dick was indeed hard. Deep veins fat with blood under the brown skin of his dick. The tip of his thickness so swollen and purpled from all the blood. Balls tight like he was ready to cum. Dick thicker and longer since the sight of her on her knees turned him on. He just wanted it sucked so damn bad.

“Come on, ma,” Erik grabs the back of her head, “You taking to long for me.”

Y/N wraps her lips around him, Erik’s head falling back. His ass clenched when her lips went back and forth tightly on his dick.

“Fuck fuck FUCK.” He held her head in place so she wouldn’t move away.

“Mmm,” She moaned with his dick deep in her mouth.

“I’m so fucking hard,” He hisses, “Suck it like that, baby, fuck.”

She had him seeing stars.

“Keep sucking on me and watch how much cum I make you swallow you nasty bitch.”

Y/N went faster.

“Oh? Oh yeah? Hmph, yeah?”

She slurped and gurgled around him.

“SHIT.” Erik could feel himself ready to erupt, “Fucking yes, baby, mmmm, please Daddy, yessssss, Mhm, fuck!”

Y/N’s nose pressed into Erik’s groomed pubic hair while he explodes down her throat. Erik pulls his dick out slowly, his eyes staring down at his shiny it is and still very very hard.

“Let me suck on you. I’m hungry.”

Y/N got up from the floor, Erik grabbing her neck to kiss her. She sucked on his bottom lip, earning a smack to her ass.

“Get in the bed right fucking now.”

Y/N went to lay on the bed, her breasts splayed out for him and him only. Erik walked up to her, crawling in the bed to rest between her legs. He gently removed the pads and tape from her nipples. Once she was free, he could already see her milk spilling. It rolled down the sides of her breasts since the fell off to the sides from being so damn heavy. Erik picks her left breast up, Y/N whimpering.

“Daddy, please be gentle.”

“I promise, I promise,” Erik took in a deep breath before opening his mouth, his tongue dragging over her entire areola and nipple. Y/N moans, her eyes closing while her chest pushed further into his mouth.

“So sweet and tastes yummy, girl,” Erik sucked, “fuck, yes.”

Y/N could not stare at the erotic sight, watching Erik’s full lips suck on her sensitive nipple and his thick tongue drag over it so desperately made her reach between her legs to rub her clit.

“Daddy, you’re making them feel better,” She bites her bottom lip, “Umph, Daddy that feels so good.”

Her soft spoken voice and the taste of her milk had Erik’s dick leaking with precum.

“Daddy...please...suck on me,” Y/N moves his head so he can show the other breast some attention.

“I got you, baby girl,” He gave her the same pleasant torture that had her pussy dripping to the bed.

“Mmm, My pussy is so wet,” She licks her lips while watching Erik lightly suck on her, “Daddy, my pussy is so wet.”

“You want me to put my dick in you, huh?”

“Please,” Y/N’s legs went wider.

“If I do that I’m cumming in you deep. I want that puss messy. Gon’ have all my cum swimming in there fucking around with me. You want this dick I’m impregnating your fine ass again.”

“Yes!” Y/N could feel Erik’s dick spread her pussy lips. Her hand left her clit, both of them cumming up to grip his shoulders.

“Remember how I got that ass knocked up? I fucked the pussy just like this didn’t I? And you still remember to keep them legs wide for Daddy, mm, girl.”

His dick slid into her tightness. Pussy still tight even after pushing out a 9lb baby.

“Ooooo, this shit is super wet,” Erik looked down at his dick, “you making a big mess on Daddy,” His lips went back to her titties like they never left, “Make a big mess in Daddy’s mouth too with all this milk.”

Erik moved his tongue over her nipples so good her body shivered, that didn’t include the way he beat her walls up. He was up in a push-up position with all his strength as his dick drilled in and out. He was fucking her pussy so hard that Y/N felt her body bouncing. He was really horny for her. She could do nothing but moan and gasp while Erik sat up with a milk covered chin. He used his hands to hold the back of her thighs while his dick went in and out...in and out with just the power of his hips. Y/N’s toes curled. She could see her breasts lactate while Erik fucked her.

“I’m fucking that pussy, baby?”

He had the nerve.

“Look at you, creaming on me,” Erik swiveled his hips inside of her, “And I feel that pussy, cum on me while I bust this phat pussy open!”

He seemed to go faster and faster each time. His dick was damn near a blur. Y/N pushed at his chest, her eyes shutting and mouth unhinged as she squirted and orgasmed on his dick. Her lungs burned with the deep breath she took. He was still going, another orgasm hitting her suddenly. She thought her pussy wouldn’t be able to work like this again after pushing out Omari but boy, was she wrong.

Erik sucked on her breasts before licking milk from his lips, “You just keep leaking. My dick is deep in here, baby, and my balls ready to empty all my nut in this phat puss.”

“Fuck, Daddy, fuck,” Y/N’s thighs shook, “Daddy, I love the way you suck on my nipples...I love the way you fuck me.”

“You beautiful, bitch,” Erik was cumming, “I’m forever gon’ be your Baby Daddy. Have all my kids. Give me all the milk I can have.”

“Yes! Yes!”

He growled, his nails sinking into her thighs, Y/N’s hips lifting off the bed. Erik’s dick made her pussy spread wider because of how thick he gets when he is about to cum. Like a present, Erik gifted his Baby Girl with more of his seed. He still stroked and Y/N could feel just how thick and veiny he is because of her wet pussy and all his cum. She could even feel the shape of the head of his dick as he slowly stroked her phat cunt to empty all of him. He was so textured and big. Her eyes rolled shut, Erik not helping by leaning forward to suck on her nipples. His dick made her pussy jump around him. Y/N pouts, pushing at Erik. He didn’t move. He still slow stroked.

“Don’t push me again,” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“Daddy, my pussy can’t take no more.”

“You gon’ take me. Got these big ass titties spilling milk and this pussy creaming. Ain’t no way Daddy finished with you. Just wait, watch how you end up pregnant.”

Y/N was in for a long ass night.

@tgigoldie​ @soufcakmistress​ @chefjessypooh​ @chaneajoyyy​ @pananegra​ @theblulife​ @becincere​ @blaqwidow91​ @fish-outta-watah​ @eyeknowmywrites​  @crowngold​ @njadakillthiscookie​ @blktinkerbell​ @luvanxi​ @sheisexcellent1​ @chocolatedippedinhoney​ @brandithecrystalgem​ @dababydababydababydababy​ @soulfulbeauty19​ @raysunshine78​ @btitannaaa​ @sunkissedebony97​ @youngblackndgifted​ @harleycativy​ @rbhp​ @thee-germanpeach​ @thadelightfulone​ @palmstreesallday​ @skylahb​ @bakaris-shorty​ @nizzle-mo​ @truglori​ @queenflaws​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @theegoldenchild​ @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade​ @nickidub718​ @vikkidc​ @thehomierobbstark​ @rent-emspoons​ @abluesforlyssa​ @abeautifulmindexposed​ @fd-writes​ @chasingsunlight​ @sickaddiktions​ @munteanhore​ @xo-goldengirl​ @tiava143​ @33kiara​ @honeytoffee​ @asiasblackworld727​ @informalmelancholy​ @soulshinechronicles​ @hearteyes-for-killmonger​ @goddessofthundathighs​ @soulfxll​ @whazzzupmyhitta​

[the-river-person]

Greatness

With a resounding crash the wooden barrel lid he was using as a target was shattered as the bones hit it straight on. Undyne cheered enthusiastically from where she sat and watched from the gate. Though Papyrus still came daily to her house for his training, things had changed here too. He’d long passed spaghetti and moved on to other dishes. Almost all of what Undyne made was fairly inedible anyway, but neither of them really minded much, even if the house ended up on fire while they were trying to make a pie. Neither one was entirely sure how fire had gotten involved this time, given that they were attempting a recipe for a frozen custard pie, but the house was definitely blazing merrily and the light of the dancing flames was reflected off the smooth black volcanic stone that was plentiful in Waterfall’s many caves and tunnels. It still burned now, because they hadn’t bothered to try and put it out, and had instead switched to the more aggressive part of his training. Combat. There was no question now that Papyrus was ready for the guard, and Undyne was quickly running out of further challenges or tests to give him before she’d be forced into a decision. Both were aware of the reason for the delay. Nobody was really certain what was to become of the Royal Guard. It was an organization that had served the Royal Family for generations, and had only recently turned all its efforts and focus onto humans. But Undyne’s entire career had been within that final stretch where the humans were the focus, and she was the oldest member of the guard despite her young age. None of the others still in the guard had joined till after her, and when Gerson had passed on the reigns it was her they followed diligently. Sure it wasn’t impossible to return the guard to its normal functions of protecting the Royal Family and acting as peacekeepers of the Underground. But would they be needed? Or wanted? It would be the decision of the King and Queen, who were still on uncertain terms. There were a lot of things that were still being figured out. Until they knew the fate of the Guard, Undyne would wait. Papyrus knew it was to prevent him from getting his hopes up, and he appreciated that, but still he wanted so badly to be a part of it all. Of course there were still some things the Guard would be needed for. Though the Human stayed with the Queen and wandered with her wherever she went, many Monsters still feared them. Papyrus himself had seen entire classes at the new school suddenly go empty as Monsters made various mumbled excuses to slip away even as the Queen sadly watched them from the corner of her eye. All because of the little Human who sat quietly in the corner, watching passively as everything moved forward. He understood their fear, of course he did. Even the smallest of human children, with enough Determination, was powerful enough to spell the end of the Underground a thousand times over. But they’d stopped, hadn’t they? They’d chosen a different path, a path of mercy. It was sad that Sans had been the one to confront the Human so many times. Flowey had described how Sans had been the last one left, the only one who dared to stop the Human before they went too far. And then again, and again, until they simply did things that way because it was how they’d always done it. Why Sans had to fight, he didn’t know, but Papyrus felt sure that those days were over. Whatever the reasons, things had changed, and change of this kind wasn’t easily wiped away, not even with a Reset. Still that didn’t seem to be enough for most Monsters. They wanted justice for past deeds, justice for all the pain humans had caused them, not just this one little one, though they’d certainly done more than any other. And they wanted the source of their fear to go away. To stop scaring them. A quarter of an hour later he’d left Undyne and was thoughtfully trudging through the dark and damp tunnels of Waterfall. A sound reached him, the sound of something digging in the dark, of the rustle of leaves, of very soft muttering. “FLOWEY,” he said out loud. The flower had never managed to sneak up on him properly just yet, that he knew of anyway. “I KNOW IT’S YOU. YOU CAN COME OUT NOW.” “Drat. I was hoping I had you that time,” said the little golden flower as it popped out of the shadows to his left with a bright and cheerful smile. “Do you think you could let me win, just the once?” Striking a dramatic pose, Papyrus wagged his finger admonishingly at the flower. “NYEHEHEH! YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THAT. EVERYTHING THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOES WILL BE DONE TO THE HIGHEST STANDARDS! IF YOU WISH TO DEFEAT ME, YOU WILL HAVE TO SIMPLY TRY HARDER! BUT DON’T WORRY...” He smiled down at his little friend. “I BELIEVE IN YOU.” The expression on the face of the flower was not the one he was expecting. He’d hoped for gratitude or laughter, or even just the usual perpetual cheer that Flowey presented. But instead he only found irritation. “How do you always do that?” snarled Flowey. “Every single time you stayed true. No matter how many resets or details, no matter how bad things got, no matter how many times your attacks beat the human down, no matter how murderous they became before they reached you. You never once let loose. No death, nothing. You just forgive and forgive and forgive even when it hurts you! But you’re one of the strongest Monsters here! Nearly strong enough to be a Boss Monster even! Why do you keep believing in people who can’t change? Who don’t want to be better?” By the time Flowey had managed to get everything out, he was shouting, his little face screwed up in frustration. For a long moment, Papyrus said nothing, waiting, and the flower started to look regretful of the outburst, as if he’d remembered that his friend wouldn’t just forget anymore. “BECAUSE I CHOOSE TO.” Flowey’s face jerked back up to stare at him, and Papyrus’s gaze was unflinching as he gazed back. This outburst must have been building for a long time, he should give the best answer he could. “I KNOW WHAT THE WORLD IS LIKE, WHAT PEOPLE, MONSTERS AND HUMANS ALIKE, HAVE DONE AND ARE STILL WILLING TO DO. BUT I KNOW WHAT THE WORLD COULD BE LIKE. WE COULD BE KINDER, WE COULD BE BETTER. I CAN’T CHANGE THE WORLD BY MYSELF. I TRIED FOR A WHILE, AND PEOPLE JUST WROTE ME OFF AS NAIVE, FORGETTABLE, AND BLIND TO THE WAY THINGS ARE. SO WHEN SANS AND I MOVED TO SNOWDIN I MADE A DIFFERENT PROMISE. I CAN’T CHANGE THE WORLD, BUT I CAN CHANGE ME, AND THAT’S A GOOD START. I’LL BE THE BEST PAPYRUS, THE GREATEST PAPYRUS, I CAN BE.” He had the flower’s attention now. It was clear that in all the Resets, in all the time Flowey had known him that he couldn’t remember much of, he had never told him this part of the story. Flowey gazed at him in fascination, hanging on every word like it was pure gold. “EVEN THE WORST PERSON, SOMEONE WHO HAS FALLEN SO FAR THAT THEY FEEL LIKE THEY’RE SEPARATED FROM EVERYTHING, TRAPPED BY THEIR OWN CHOICES, BY THE PERSON THEY MADE THEMSELVES INTO, CAN STILL CHANGE. EXECUTION POINTS, LEVELS OF VIOLENCE... THEY DON’T MAKE YOU EVIL, THEY’RE JUST NUMBERS, RECORDS OF THINGS YOU’VE ALREADY DONE. THEY MIGHT MEAN TERRIBLE AWFUL THINGS, EVEN EVIL THINGS, BUT THEY DON’T MAKE YOU EVIL. THAT’S A DECISION YOU MAKE YOURSELF EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY. JUST LIKE SOMEONE CAN DECIDE TO BE GOOD.” It was odd how often the flower’s expression changed. Sometimes Papyrus thought it was almost like looking at someone who tried on different masks for different feelings, someone who didn’t want to show their real face underneath all the fakeness on top. Flowey was looking not just taken aback, but almost appalled. Not all of the flower’s history was a mystery to him, Sans had never been the most trusting, but even before the Resets had been revealed to everyone, the smaller skeleton had showed a certain level of distrust, or almost fury towards Flowey. When something had happened and Sans locked himself away for days on end, and Papyrus had stumbled upon the Resets through his growing Determination to help, it was Flowey he’d looked for. Though Flowey had only spoken of the Human and of Resetting time and of Sans, there was enough to know that there was more to the story. And Sans had only confirmed that by acting so frightened about where Papyrus had gotten the information. Whatever Flowey had done, whatever he was, it wasn’t good or kind. He could imagine the little bright smile staying just as happy and cheerful even as all the Monsters in the Underground perished one by one. But that horrified expression, something he’d said had certainly struck a chord, and not one that Flowey liked. “I WOULD NOT BE THE GREAT ANYTHING IF, WHEN A PERSON WHO WAS SO TRAPPED BY THEMSELVES CAME ALONG, AND I DIDN’T OFFER THEM THE CHANCE THEY MIGHT HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR TO CHANGE. WHAT IF THAT WAS THE ONLY OPPORTUNITY? IF I GAVE IN AND SIMPLY FOUGHT THEM OFF OR RAN...THEY WOULDN’T HAVE THAT CHANCE ANYMORE. IF I KILLED THEM, I WOULDN’T BE THE ME I CHOSE, I’D BE SOME OTHER PAPYRUS I DON’T WANT TO BE, SOME LESS GREAT AND NOT AS WONDERFUL PAPYRUS. STILL AMAZING, BUT LESS SO BECAUSE HE WOULDN’T BE ME. SO I WOULD WANT TO KEEP TRYING, EVEN TO THE VERY LAST MOMENT, TO MY DEATH. I COULD BE THE ONLY ONE WHO OFFERS THEM THAT CHOICE TO CHANGE. I DON’T REMEMBER MORE THAN DARK DREAMS AND BITS AND PIECES OF MEMORIES, NOT LIKE SANS REMEMBERS THOSE TIMES, BUT I BELIEVE THAT THOSE MES WOULD WANT TO BE THE GREATEST PAPYRUS AS WELL.” One of his greatest monologues yet. Even if it was a bit of an uncomfortable subject to go on about. For his part, Flowey looked as if he’d swallowed something very unpleasant. “It’s just a choice? That’s all? You don’t even do it because it makes you feel good? Because you feel important?” It was a good point. There had always been the impulse to push himself forward, into the center of attention. To be loved and adored by everyone and recognized for being such a great person. But still... “I...” he said slowly, thinking it through as he spoke. “I DON’T THINK IT’S WRONG TO ENJOY DOING GOOD THINGS, OR TO FEEL IMPORTANT IF YOU DID SOMETHING GREAT. SOMETIMES YOU CAN EVEN DO GOOD THINGS FOR OTHERS BECAUSE IT’S LIKE DOING SOMETHING GOOD FOR YOU TOO AT THE SAME TIME. YOU’RE CHOOSING TO PRACTICE DOING THE RIGHT THING, AND THE THINGS YOU DO STILL HELP PEOPLE. AND IF YOU CAN LEARN TO DO GOOD THINGS FOR LOTS OF DIFFERENT REASONS BECAUSE YOU PRACTICED SO HARD AT IT, THAT’S GREAT TOO! SOME OF THEM MIGHT BE ABOUT FEELING GOOD, AND OTHER TIMES IT MIGHT BE BECAUSE ITS JUST THE RIGHT THING TO DO. ONE DAY, IF YOU PRACTICE ENOUGH, YOU CAN BE STRONG ENOUGH TO TRY AND DO GOOD EVEN WHEN YOU GET HURT BECAUSE OF IT. BUT IT’S OKAY IF YOU DON’T.” He smiled, his eyelights twinkling in their sockets. “EVEN SMALL GOOD THINGS ARE STILL GOOD. GREATNESS ISN’T ABOUT THE SIZE OF IT, YOU CAN BE GREAT BECAUSE OF YOUR CHOICES, EVEN WHEN NOBODY NOTICES A THING.” Flowey said nothing at all. His expression had returned to something more neutral, but it was clear that something had provoked a reaction, a response. Knowing it was getting late, Papyrus resumed his walking, and Flowey burrowed into the earth, popping out here and there ahead of him, but never quite looking at him, or speaking. It was only when they’d reached the first hints of snow that he spoke up, his voice very quiet. “And what about after? What does the person do after? Even if they change, how are people supposed to forgive the things they did? Or trust them ever again? Why should they? Maybe the person has changed, but it doesn’t fix the stuff they did. Right?” Today was a day for hard questions, wasn’t it? “I DON’T KNOW FOR SURE. I COULD FORGIVE SOMEONE IF I KNEW THEY WERE TRULY CHANGING. BUT OTHERS MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO, OR DON’T WANT TO. I DON’T THINK THAT’S WRONG OF THEM, BECAUSE THEY WERE HURT. SOME MIGHT FORGIVE, BUT NOT TRUST, BECAUSE THEY CAN’T ACCEPT THE RISK OF GETTING HURT AGAIN. I THINK THAT’S OKAY TOO.” He stared off at the distant cavernous ceiling above the peaks and valleys of Snowdin Forest, and the trails of smoke that drifted lazily from the chimneys of the town. “I DON’T THINK PEOPLE HAVE TO FORGIVE, OR EVEN TRUST. IT MIGHT BE NICE IF THEY DID, BUT IT’S HARD TO BE THE BEST YOU IF YOU KEEP EXPECTING THEM TO BE JUST LIKE YOU. THEY MIGHT BE STRONG IN A DIFFERENT WAY, LIKE BEING DETERMINED NO MATTER WHAT, OR SUPLEXING BOULDERS, OR-” “Alright! Alright! I get it!” Flowey butt in hastily, cutting him off just as he was beginning his list. Without another word the flower dove into the earth and did not resurface again. Papyrus shrugged. Hopefully the little flower had gotten what he wanted, and it had been nice to talk about these sorts of things to someone other than Sans for once. He waved cheerily to the River Person as the boat sailed by on the river. “Tra la la,” remarked the hooded figure happily, returning his wave. “The Angel is coming.” And then he was gone. “WOWEE,” said Papyrus to himself. “TODAY HAS BEEN A VERY ODD DAY.”

[cognitivefunk]

Title: Did You Like the Cookies? Fandom: Obey Me! Shall We Date? Pairing: Beel/Original Female Character (Aella) Rating: Explicit, smut, plot what plot? Warnings/Tags: oral sex, vaginal sex, risky sex, semi-public, Beel is BIG BOI

Aella wiped a bead of sweat from her brow with the rumpled sleeve of her forearm. The kitchen filled with the sweet scent of baked goods and she patted her hands against the red apron she had put on over her dress to keep the flour from ruining her clothes. The apron itself had strawberries and bunnies decorating the chest and trim, with white ribbons adorned with red polka dots. She had borrowed a few tinctures from Solomon and decided she would experiment in the kitchen with them. She couldn’t resist the small pink bottle with the heart dropper, and once she realized the thick liquid inside had a sweet aroma she decided she would bake some cookies as a trial run.

The tantalizing smell lured in a familiar redhead, and the young woman turned to greet the rather large demon. She reasoned he must have recently finished a workout, since his tightened muscles were glimmering with a thin layer of sweat, shown off by his hooded tank top. He drank from an opaque bottle, and she assumed it was water but it may well have been an after workout protein beverage. “Something smells good,” he beamed at her, his smile like a ray of sunlight in this dark realm.

“Oh, hi Beel! I’m baking some cookies with a secret ingredient~ I don’t actually know what it is, but it tasted sweet when I sampled some of the batter.” She gestured to the oven beside her before walking back to the sink to finish cleaning up the dishes she dirtied. She didn’t hear him walk up behind her, and when she heard his voice so close to her ear she nearly dropped the bowl she was washing. “Is there any batter left?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder to peer into the sink but his shoulders fell when he realized she had already soaked the remaining dishes.

“N-no,” she felt bad when she saw the sulking man. It tugged at her heartstrings and she had to stop herself from hugging the man and cradling his head against her bosom in comfort. “The cookies are almost done though, so if you want to wait around for a few minutes I’ll let you have the first taste!” She winked at him, half saluting with a soapy spoon in her hand. His frown quickly dissolved into another beaming smile and he nodded, bringing his hands to his chest in an almost fidgety manner. He looked excited at the prospect of getting to try her cooking and she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips in return.

In the meantime, he opened the fridge to grab a snack to hold him over, digging around until he got his hands on a cup of custard. He hummed happily to himself, grabbing a dry spoon from the drawer before digging in. Aella listened to the soft humming from the man behind her while she finished washing dishes, becoming mildly unnerved when she heard a crunching noise behind her when she could have sworn he had grabbed a custard. ‘Custards aren’t…crunchy…right?’ she thought to herself, feeling her body turn before she even had a chance to process her movement, only to be relieved when she saw he had taken a handful of what appeared to be pretzels, but they were coated with a black tarry substance.

She let out a small chuckle and turned back to the task at hand, wiping her hands on a small kitchen towel right before the timer on the stove beeped to signal it was time to take the cookies out of the oven. She turned on the oven light and opened the door just a peek to check on them before fully removing them from the oven, on the off chance they weren’t quite done yet. They had a beautiful golden brown color on the edges, but the middle was still soft and gooey. Once they set they would be a perfect texture. She put them on the stove to cool and turned off the oven and light before setting up the cooling rack on the countertop near the stove.

Beel was right behind her once again, peering over her shoulder, watching her move each cookie intently, waiting for the green light with bated breath. Aella had to stifle her laughter at how adorably the demon was eyeing each cookie. He pressed his chest close against her back, unaware he was getting in her personal space, as he became fixated on the last cookie on the tray. “Hehe, don’t worry, I’m not going back on my word. You can have it, but be careful, it’s still hot!” she went to hand it to him but his large hand was already reaching for it before she had the chance to.

He was surprisingly fast, but she supposed it was to be expected for a demon. He brought the treat to his mouth, and bit into the sweet greedily, humming softly again once the taste hit his tongue. He reached over and grabbed three more off the cooling rack, closing his eyes while he basked in the sweetness. A light flush passed over his cheeks as he chewed and when he opened his eyes they were starting to glaze over. He pulled at his tank top a little, trying to air it out against his skin, which was starting to feel hot.

Aella turned around, watching him fidget with his shirt and smiling at the blush on his cheeks. “Is it good? Do you like it?” she grinned, reaching up to wipe a crumb from the corner of his mouth. When her finger brushed against his lower lip, his pupils widened, a hazy pink clouding over his purple orbs. “Aella?” he grabbed her wrist to keep her from moving her hand away from his lips. Something wasn’t quite right, and his feelings were starting to well inside of him, rising to flood levels. He took a steadying breath, steeling his gaze as he peered into her eyes directly. “Where did you get the special ingredient from?”

The raven haired woman startled when Beel grabbed her wrist, taking note of the subtle changes in the demon’s demeanor. “Solomon let me borrow some potions and tinctures and he said that they could go into food, so I—“ her words halted in her throat as a pink tongue darted out to lick the crumb she had swiped from his lip before his lips wrapped around the digit, causing her to shiver. “Beel? Are you feeling ok?”

His eyes slipped shut as he worked his tongue over her slender finger, using his teeth to gently nip her flesh before pulling back, the blush on his face deepening. He averted his gaze to the side, shifting uncomfortably once he let her wrist go. “I feel hot,” he started, tugging at his shirt again, the sheen of sweat on his biceps becoming more apparent. “and hungry.”

His gaze was back on Aella once more, and he bit his lip, utilizing his best self-control. Aella frowned, reaching back up to cup the man’s cheek with both hands, feeling just how hot his skin had become. “Don’t.” his words sounded desperate, almost scared. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He was biting his lip with more intensity, and it looked as though he was at his last shred of restraint.

“It’s ok,” she said quietly, letting her hands slide down his cheeks to rest more comfortably around his neck. “Beel, if you want to, it’s ok to touch me. I mean, it’s my fault anyway that you’re feeling—“

“So damn hungry,” he growled the last word, his voice lowering in octave as his body transformed in front of her. His teeth became sharp and his wings sprouted from his back, he couldn’t hold back any longer, especially not after she gave her consent. He lifted her into his arms, setting her down onto the counter. “B-Beel?? Not here in the, ah, in the kitchen!!”

He was tugging at her tights, pushing the dress and apron she wore up her thighs. His eyes drank in her skin and he visibly shuddered, leaning down and pressing his claws into the soft flesh of her thighs. “Can’t wait,” he murmured, using his teeth to tear at her underwear, pushing the shredded garment to the side before delving his tongue into his next meal. Her.

“Beel!” she gripped his shoulders, steadying herself on the countertop as she looked frantically around the kitchen. It was risky doing something like this out in the open, especially in a house full of demons with extra keen senses. She didn’t want anybody to walk in on them, and that very thought kept her from being able to relax. “Please, let’s take this somewhere private, ok? I’ll clean up here real quick and—“

The demon grunted, grabbing her by her thighs and hooking her legs around his neck, cradling her ass in his large hands. His mouth was still latched to her core, savoring her taste on his tongue. She grabbed onto his hair with one hand and his shoulder with the other as he walked out of the kitchen, holding her in such a lewd position. ‘Oh this is so much worse. It feels amazing, but oh god what if someone sees!!’ she was lost in her own head, frantically pulling at the red hair beneath her hand, but it only seemed to spur the demon on, since he picked up the pace of his mouth.

Aella was flushed, feeling overwhelmed at the sensation of being carried and eaten out at the same time. She never imagined she would wind up in this position from baking cookies, but there was never a dull moment in Devildom. She bit back a moan as he started to lead them toward his bedroom. “Ah, Beel, mmh, don’t you..nn..think we should go to—ah—my room? It’s closer and…nmmm, Belphie might be naaahh ---pping”

The redhead didn’t respond, just changed his path and started walking toward Aella’s bedroom instead. His claws were kneading into the soft flesh of her ass, creating a rhythm between his hands and his mouth. It wasn’t long before they arrived in her room, since he started to use his wings to propel them forward instead of trying to focus on keeping his steps balanced. Once inside, he finally set her down on her bed, panting lightly as he removed the shirt from his body. His muscles rippled under the movement, and the look he gave her set her loins aflame.

She was the one biting her lip now as his hands moved to undo his belt. He locked eyes with her while he undid the button on his pants, unzipping the garment and disrobing painfully slow for her liking. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat when he freed himself from the confines of his jeans, and she wondered for a moment just how he was hiding an erection that size in his jeans.

“Aella,” he murmured, crawling over her frame on the bed, the heat in his eyes growing with lust as he eyed her. “Take this off, it’s in the way.” His hands were tugging at the apron, tossing it over the bed before he tried to do the same with her dress. She stopped his hands, afraid he might tear the garment and she gave him a coy smile, wiggling her hips as she slowly brought the garment over her head, her breasts bouncing in her bra as she peeled away the fabric. Beel was watching her every moment, waiting for her to unhook her bra before he latched onto a breast with fervor, sucking and biting at her pert nipple, making the woman keen and writhe beneath him. “Aah, ow,” she breathed, earning a sheepish look from the man currently trying to devour her breast.

“Sorry. I’ll make it feel better,” his voice was husky with arousal. He flattened his tongue over the abused nipple, lapping at the reddened flesh whilst looking deep into Aella’s eyes. She thought she perished and went to heaven, but then she reminded herself that he was a demon and this was in fact basically hell. If this is hell, then I’m going to keep on sinning.

Beel reached down, using his claws to finish ripping off the panties that acted as a barrier to what he really wanted in that moment. He sat down on the edge of the bed, lifting the woman into his lap with ease, letting her straddle his waist with her soft thighs. He shifted his hips up, brushing his strained erection against her now sopping wet core, his chest heaving with every breath. His hands wrapped around her waist, eyes flicking down to watch his arousal rub against hers before he made eye contact again.

“Can I?” he asked, still apprehensive whether or not she wanted him to take things all the way. Aella smiled warmly at the man, steadying herself by wrapping her arms around his neck like she had done in the kitchen. “Take me Beel~”

A low growl left his throat, and that was the only warning that Aella was given before he was burying himself in her wet heat, gasping at the sheer size of him stretching her walls. He moved slowly, staying true to his word about not wanting to hurt her. Her nails were digging into the back of his shoulders, and he smirked a little, enjoying the feeling. “Is it good? Do you like it?” he teased, repeating what she had asked him when he ate her cookies.

Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, and she shuddered against him, her breasts squishing up against his chest as she leaned into him, brushing her lips against the crook of his neck. “Yes, yes I love it,” she admitted against his neck, working her way up to nibble at his earlobe. His grip tightened and his breath hitched, she could feel him twitch inside of her and she realized she found a sensitive spot. She grinned against his ear and bit down again, gently, but firm and he snapped his hips forward as a warning, causing her to let go with a moan.

“I’m already so worked up already, I don’t want to hurt you,” he groaned, rolling his hips gently against hers grabbing the back of her head to guide her lips to his. She could taste herself on his lips, mixed with the tantalizing sweetness of the cookies. She sighed into the kiss, her eyes fluttering shut as they deepened the intimate action. She felt absolutely stuffed, how that he was fully sheathed inside of her. He distracted her with kisses and used his nails to gently scratch her head, petting her hair in the process.

“Mmn, you’re doing so well,” he praised her, gently rocking her on his cock, deepening yet another kiss with his tongue. It was a slow and sensual kiss, unhurried despite the obvious reaction he had gotten from the tainted baked goods. “You know, you don’t have to hold back..” she started to say, a moan replacing her next statement as he snapped his hips against her body, keenly aware of how it made her breasts bounce against him.

“Aella…” he frowned a little, a worried expression painting over his handsome features. She decided to show him with her actions instead of her words, and leaned forward, taking his earlobe between her teeth and rolling her hips against his, raking her nails over his strong shoulders. The tug she gave to one of his horns was his undoing. He growled, grabbing onto her hips firmly and before she could even think she was on her back, pressed into the mattress as he began to ravish her body, thrusting deeply into her.

She couldn’t speak, the air was nearly knocked out of her, but she continued to moan breathily, wrapping her legs around his waist as he drove into her, her hands grabbing onto his muscular arms to ground herself. “Aahn~”

“I want to fill you up, Aella. I want you to beg me to pour my seed into you. Come on, say it,” he leaned close to her ear as he spoke, his words slightly strained from his exertion, but only because he was still holding himself back from tearing his human in two. “B-Beel! Gah, I—I want you to come in me, please, I want you inside of me. So, so so deep inside of me, please, jesus fuck…” she started to ramble as she begged him to release inside of her.

He grabbed onto her legs, pressing them up toward her head as he changed the angle to a much deeper position, driving himself into her. She felt fuller than she had ever felt in her life, practically drooling at the sheer ecstasy she was experiencing. There was a dull sting with every thrust, but it turned to heat in her belly, and even though she knew she would have trouble walking later, she was fully enjoying herself in the moment.

His fingers found her folds, stroking and tugging at her lower lips while he took her, sliding a finger over her clit in teasing motions. She threw her head back, her vision starting to become hazy as the familiar tsunami built inside of her. Beel’s focus was impeccable, driving his hips into her at just the right angle to make her see stars, and her body soon contracted around him, her orgasm washing over her in waves as he let himself release inside of her in tandem. “Hmm, good girl,” he praised her, rutting his hips a few more times as she continued to milk him through the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Her head hit the pillows behind them and she gasped for air, whining as Beel slid out of her, his absence leaving her feeling suddenly empty. He chuckled and settled himself between her thighs again, cleaning up their shared mess with his tongue, lapping at her languidly as she jolted here and there at the overstimulation after receiving such an intense orgasm.

He nuzzled his face into her inner thigh licking and sucking the flesh there for a few moments, enjoying the softness of her body. “Beel…” she said his name softly, petting his soft red hair as he looked up at her with his now clear gaze. He smiled sheepishly again, moving his body up her body to kiss her again, gently moving his lips against hers. “I guess you really liked those cookies, huh?” she laughed, finding the situations slightly humorous now that things had calmed down and they had both been able to enjoy themselves.

His grin widened and he gave a small laugh in return, “Can I eat the rest?” he asked, something mischievous hiding under the surface of that statement. “You should try some too this time.” She flushed again, a sudden wave of heat washing over her at his statement, paired with the look in his eyes. She giggled, and shook her head. “Maybe. We should probably go clean up just in case. It’s not a good idea to leave those things around.” She heard his stomach let out a growl and decided it was best to take another trip to the kitchen regardless. Now that one hunger was taken care of, it was time to fill another one.

She wanted to cuddle the man for a little while longer but she was genuinely worried that someone else might take of the tainted sweets back to their room or eat one in the kitchen. She grabbed her bra and pulled her dress back over her head, not bothering with her tights or underwear. Beel pulled his underwear and pants back on but didn’t bother with his shirt, feeling too hot and sticky to put it back on at the moment. He walked close to Aella on their way back into the kitchen, his hand roaming around her waist.

Once they returned to the scene of the crime, some of the color drained out of Aella’s face when she realized a few of the cookies were missing, but most of them seemed to be where she had left them. She looked over to Beel who seemed to have taken notice, but didn’t seem to care as he picked them up and put them in a bag. She was surprised that he didn’t scarf them down immediately but he gave her a sly look and smiled, “These are a special snack. I want to share them with you. In your room.”

The missing cookies were forgotten at that statement, and she gave a bashful smile back, tucking her hair back behind her ears with a coy giggle. “Ok. Let’s grab some food and head back there. I didn’t get to cuddle you, and we could watch something together.”

Beel beamed at the prospect, smiling happily as he started to grab an armful of food from the fridge to take back to the room, pulling her closer to stack a few extra items in her arms to carry as well. He hummed to himself again as he finished up his choices and started munching on a snack as they started off back toward her room to relax together for the afternoon.

[romantic-hero]

Homecoming.....

Isabella Rose Poldark was six months old before her father returned from France.  Demelza was hanging up the wash  that August morning when Caroline Enys’s carriage was heard before it pulled into Nampara’s courtyard.

“Caroline! Has something happened?” cried Demelza as she ran towards her friend who had alighted the steps and stood with her hands out,  reaching  for Demelza.

“Yes! But don’t worry, my love. It is good news. Dwight has had word that Ross will land at Plymouth this morning.”

Demelza thought she might faint. She was glad to grasp Caroline’s hands as it kept her from falling.

“I’ve come to get the children and Prudie so that you may have Ross all to yourself.” Caroline explained “If he landed with the tide, you only have but a few hours to make ready!”

“Oh, Caroline.  That is so nice of you, but I’m sure Ross  will want to see the children. Why he’s never even seen Bella.”

“Yes, my dear. And Ross will have the rest of his life to make up for being gone so long. But I can assure you a few hours or days will make no difference.” Caroline reached into the carriage and brought out a large hamper. “Cook sent this, so you won’t have to worry about what to feed him.” She handed Demelza the large basket, then turned towards the house. “Prudie!  Jeremy! Clowance!”

Jeremy was the first to appear. “Aunt Caroline! “

“My dearest, get your sisters and Prudie and come to Killewarren with me. Uncle Dwight has a new microscope and Horace is as lonely as can be. “ Caroline bestowed her most charming smile and when Prudie finally poked her head out the door, Caroline told her, “Get the children and come with me to Killewarren. Captain Poldark is arriving home this very morning.”

Prudie looked at Demelza. “I hate to leave you mistress, but ..” Prudie saw how bright Demelza’s eyes were shining. “I know the Captain will like a quiet welcome.”

Before she knew it, all three children and their clothes and toys were loaded into the carriage and as she waved good bye Demelza ‘s mind was frantic. The house was a mess and oh my God. Ross was coming home!

She ran inside and put books and toys and sewing away.  She gathered papers from the table and when the kitchen and living room were straightened she ran upstairs and made the bed. How she wished she had time for a proper bath, but she did her best. She took off her clothes and washed herself. Then she put  on a clean shift and her newest stays and the her best dress she recently had made in Truro. She brushed her long titan curls and threw the bath water out the window.

Back in the kitchen she unpacked Caroline’s offering, and smiled. So unpractical, but utterly perfect. Two bottles of champagne and one of brandy. Marzipan, strawberries, some fine cheddar and fresh baguettes that Killewarren’s French cook was famous for. There was sliced beef and wrapped carefully was a custard pie.

“Flowers!” Demelza said out loud, and she hurried to her garden happy that a few late blooms of roses were left, but glad for the abundance of dahlias and fuchsia, their gay colors bright against the green hedges. As she was placing her arrangements throughout the house, she looked out the window and there across the fields she spied the familiar tricorn atop the rider galloping towards Nampara.

Demelza raced down the stairs as Ross pulled into the courtyard  and she flew out the door and into his arms.

sexy sex..

There were no words. After months of yearning and longing and loneliness just breathing in his breath, his sent,  made Demelza bold with desire and suddenly she could wait no longer.

She grabbed two fistfuls of of his long, black heavy linen coat and pulled him close. “Judas, Ross. I was beginning to think I’d never see you again!” She  took in his dark unruly curls, the dark stubble that stained his cheeks and chin and stared deeply into his brown eyes. “My god, I’ve missed you!”

Ross laughed. “After all this time, you still desire to be with me?” He put his hands on his wife’s hips and brought her body to him so he could feel her whole length against him.

Immediately Demelza was aware of his arousal, and her hand reached down his breeches and Ross groaned before his lips found Demelza’s and they kissed frantically their mouths colliding, their front teeth knocking on the first try, but in a second his tongue had pushed past her lips and all was sweet and hurried. The kisses as  heady and passionate as their first time. Ross’s hands found the curve of her rump and forced her even closer. Demelza put her hands on his strong, muscular shoulders and jumped up wrapping her legs around his waist as tightly as she could. For now that Ross was home, she didn’t think she’d ever let him go.

Somehow they didn’t fall,  and Ross walked into Nampara and pinned her against the ancient paneling of the entry way.

“The children?” he rasped.

“Killewarren,” she whispered and they returned to the most urgent of matters.

Ross kissed her neck, his hands cupping her breasts. Being together at last was so exquisite that neither noticed the painting they knocked from the wall. Finally Ross was able to let her down and as he stood before her he started undoing Demelza’s clothes, his forehead wrinkled in concentration as he slowly undressed his wife.

“Judas,” Demelza thought. “He’s still the handsomest man in all of Cornwall.”

Ross finally had her dress off and then he unlaced her stays and lifted her shift over her head. She stood before him naked and he marveled at her beauty. Perhaps she was even more beautiful than he remembered.

Then he knelt before her and looked at her. Demelza felt impatient. It had been almost a year since he’d last touched her and she quivered with the anticipation  of his fingers against her skin. Ross reached up and brushed her nipples with his calloused finger tips and then he took one leg and draped it over his shoulder as his lips kissed a trail up one thigh and down the other. Demelza  made a pleading sound in the back of her throat and then his hands were on her derrière, and he pulled her forward until his mouth was right tnere, and he licked and sucked, his tongue tasing her sweetness which was far more intoxicating than the finest wine he had ever drunk.

“Oh, Ross,” Demelza knocked her head against a sconce, but the pain didn’t register. She lowed her eyes because as busy as he was with his mouth, his eyes had never left her face. She was suddenly shy, but she didn’t want him to stop. The pleasure was so intense it was painful. Her hands were lost in his hair as she tried to keep her balance. She couldn’t help but call his name over and over, and she was glad there was no one near to hear her cries as his lips teased her into a release that weakened her knees and brought tears to her eyes,

Ross stood up, and his lips were wet and she tasted herself and it was breathtaking and urgent. She wanted him more than she thought possible. He lifted  her up and she wrapped her legs around him again, and after fumbling with his buttons finally he was inside of her, sliding in with a groan of deepest pleasure and desire. Demelza squeezed down on his cock and his  thrusts were deep and long, as if he couldn’t  get enough of her. It was all breathing  and moaning and loving, it felt so good it made Demelza’s head spin.

It was all so explosive, things got a  bit rough, a bit careless. The sconce  fell and hit Demelza’s shoulder and she cried out. Her body was on fire and she took Ross along for the ride. He came  with that usual  little moan from the back of his throat, and his knees buckled a little as he tried to keep them both up. Demelza held on as tight as she could  while he breathed hard against her neck. She didn’t want to let him go, but her thigh muscles were jelly and her legs slid  from his hips. Ross’s hands sneaked up  and spread across her back as he got  his balance, his cock slipping out of her as they stumbled apart.

They stayed like that for a minute, with the old wall doing most of the work of holding them up. Demelza kissed the side of his neck and inhaled his musky scent. She looked at him and they both grinned. Demelza sent a trail of kisses along his jaw line. Ross leaned his forehead gently against hers . His eyes stared into Demelza’s until they were finally able to breathe normally.

"Demelza," he said in his deep, yet sweet way, for he truly adored her as much as she adored him. "I love you."

Suddenly it was all too much. His return. The future ahead. Demelza fought off tears. "I love you too, my love ,” she told him as her fingers held onto his shirt, over the spot where she knew his heart was.

Later, they sat at the kitchen table. Demelza naked under his coat, eating strawberries as he cut the bread and sliced the cheddar Caroline had provided.

“Shall we go to Killewarren and get the children?” Ross asked as he lifted one of the bottles of champagne from the hamper.

“Tomorrow,” replied Demelza.

They both laughed as Ross popped the cork and then after taking a long drink passed the bottle to his wife. “Yes, tomorrow, my love.” And he leaned across the table and kissed her once again.

[thoseindarkness]

DtD News Nov 2020

Thank you to anyone who came back for this nonsense. For brevity I have an announcement that I want to make up front. I didn't have room for it last month so I pushed it back, but I can't anymore. I had to make one major revision to the published story. I want people to know about it.

This is the TLDR version. I tell a more in-depth story at the end.

ANNOUNCEMENT

The summary: I had a bad outline walking into writing Mistrust Goes Both Ways. I ran into a problem mid-story. Instead of stopping and taking the time I needed, I challenged myself to creatively solve my way out of my problems. I re-started with about half of what I'd written, published Mistrust Goes Both Ways, and restarting my outline with high hopes.  I was proud of myself for rising to the challenge.

Despite my best efforts, it didn't work out. In the end, I had to scrap my outline. I was able to structure the end I was going for and spent the end of 2019 trying to link the first two stories to the ending I wanted. It wasn't working. Then TRoS. Then COVID. Here we are. In June, I started experimenting with scrapping Mistrust and restarting from Read Between.

Mistrust Goes Both Ways will not be part of the finished story when I'm done. I know some of you love it. I love it. I have no intention of taking it down. I might, for a short time, when I'm posting the final story. I'll let you know if that happens and it will go back up afterward. I don't have specifics as there's no point planning for it now.

For right now, nothing is changing on my AO3 account. Feel free to read and comment to your hearts content. I promise it will stay up forever to remind me that some mistakes are worth sharing with others. I learned good lessons from this mistake. It stays.

That being said I think I owe you an actual update on the progress of this story.

WHAT THE HELL I DID THIS MONTH

After my first update I needed to re-integrate with Reylo friends. Funnily enough, that pulled me into another fic. I've been working on that between following this election. Now that it's called I can get back to writing. I tried a couple of times since I voted on Oct 30th, but I knew it wasn't what I wanted to be thinking about.

Thankfully, I've also begun doing more social/political essays lately. I'm not sure what overall form or shape those may take and I haven't published any. Still, I was creative and I did plenty of writing. Interestingly, all this political focus is good for Deceive the Deceiver. Spinning and listening to conspiracy theories is a big part of weaving a world like this one. A great deal comes from my thoughts and perceptions of the real world.

WHERE DTD IS

As of right now I am in the process of first drafting the entire story with Read Between as the starting point. That is, every one of the short stories in the series. What I'm doing is somewhere between a history, an outline and random scene writing. All of these elements are currently strung together in one long, continuous, chronological, first draft. It's everything from the history before Read Between (which starts in the 1930's), all the way to the final scene of DtD.

I'm taking all the good ideas I've created in the last couple of years and re-organizing them into a first pass. It's the skeleton and some of the meat now. I'm slowly building out now that I have a blank-er slate. It's about choosing what works and what doesn't.

I call it accordion writing. It just gets bigger and bigger. This outline will later level up into the first full story drafts for each part. I've got so much history when I finish this I might… I'm getting ahead of myself. Don't want to give too many clues away.

Another interesting thing that's happened recently is I've started pulling bits of other fic ideas that I’m just not gonna finish. A big chuck of the history I stole from a modern/academia AU where Ben and Rey are history students specializing in the ancient Jedi religion. Another was a complication between characters came from a canon story where I wanted to paint the relationship with a new layer. We'll see if I can pull that off.

I spent a lot of time prior to this year focusing on the heroes but my villains hadn't gotten much love. Filling in the history has given me a chance to flesh out the villains. All their moves and countermoves, woven through the bits I already have, are spinning a pretty tapestry. Oh, the villains are so much fun to write!

This other fic came together in the same sort of accordion fashion and it's been fun working through the kinks in the process now that I've seen some of the weak points on a scale like DtD. I think I've mentioned, but this is a writing experiment for me and I'm most invested now in improving my process and clue-threading with DtD. This other fic is helping me test it on a smaller scale.

Not that this needs to get any longer, I'm just going to throw pretense out the window and go with complete vanity. If you don't give a wet shit about my life (and I don't blame you) you have reached the end of your journey. I hope to see you next month. If not, then I leave you with this parting:

May we meet again in our next fandom, through mutes and not as rival shippers.

The following is the ridiculous story of my ups and downs with Deceive the Deceiver. I figure if I explain to you how much I'm invested in this story some of you will stop worrying that I'm going to abandon it. Trust me. I'm not.

This tale stretches from NANOWRIMO 2018 and the prompt that started it, through the ups and downs of 2019 and 2020, to the writing of last month's letter. Buckle up. I love bumpy rides.

DtD: from NANO '17 to COVID-19

This story truly starts in December 2017 when I drenched the seat beneath me during Last Jedi. I'm a TLJ shipper. I got caught on the thirst train. It hit a time when writing was becoming a really big part of my life. I've been writing since I was a kid. I stopped for a while and came back to it. It's a long story. Ultimately, I'd started writing a lot a few years earlier. A mix of fic and originals but I was running into problems so I start reading a bunch of books to get better. TLJ lit the fires. NO joke TLJ came out on the 15th. I have pages of writing from the 20th.

2018 was Reylo year! I was already on Tumblr for my previous fandom (Batman comics). I found Reylo AU week which is in August. I submitted a story for that. It was the first fic I published for Reylo. Fast-forward August to November. I'm in the Writing Den on Discord and someone throws out this spy prompt. People start running with. Throwing ideas around. One of those was the snuggie in Mistrust! I have that conversation saved and story spots for each crazy thing they threw out. Finally, I said I'd do it!

Mind you, this is November 2nd. Nano has just started and the event is about "turning off your internal editor." This prompt consumed me. I was trying to keep up with SpaceWaffleHouseTM that first year. I did, btw. We both crested 100,000. It was my first Nano. Word count is not my problem. Organizing my crazy ambitious ideas is my problem. Some of that 100k was other stories, like Custard which I wrote half of in November and the other half Jan/Feb 2019. Most of it… probably 80k of it… was DtD.

Read Between the Lies is currently 33,710. I wrote at least 20k of that during that first Nano, as well as outlines and scenes for what I thought would be the starting point. I remember wanting to write Read Between to "get into their headspace" by writing their first meeting. I didn't think it would become a whole story. I was just going with it then. Any idea that came to mind.

I took December 2019 off for a few reasons. Some personal. Some burnout. I'm one of those people that can use writing to relieve stress, but I was so exhausted from that month-long writing sprint. By the last week I was dragging to get the final four or five thousand words to hit 100k.

Also, what I had by the end (no internal editor) was a bird nest of ideas that had too many beginnings, not enough middles, and endings to go around. I knew one thing right away: I knew I had more than one story. There were so many fun ideas. I figured, what the hell. I knew another thing right away: the prompt was at the end of the story. Like, the very end. Like, the last short story. Or the second to last short story, at the earliest. That hasn't changed. Ever. That's just where it ended up.

Between January and April of 2019 I touched DtD a few times. I kept coming back to it, reading through it, trying to untangle it. I made new notes on the stories. Expanded ideas. Tried to structure it. I figured out a bunch of good notes, but no real substance. The hardest thing was figuring out where to start! Did I:

(1) Start shortly before the prompt with Ben/Rey's relationship established and fill the story with the history?

(2) Start a lot earlier and build Ben/Rey's relationship from the beginning I'd written in Read Between?

If I'm being honest, Read Between was a lot better than I thought it would be and I didn't want to get rid of it. For a while I was thinking of publishing it last as a "prequel" if people liked the series.

Funny enough, the turning point happened May fourth weekend 2019…

In the week leading up, I was struggling through another story and decided to take a break for the weekend. I'd start writing again on Sunday when I met with my writing group. I met them through Nano. We used to meet at Panera. Now they meet on Discord. They mostly sprint though and I'm not a sprinter. I miss Panera. Anyway.

May 4th was a Sunday (look it up). I gave myself a writing break for the weekend and marathoned Star fucking Wars. It was nerd weekend. I was going to nerd out. I wore exclusively SW gear all weekend. I remember it well. It was the start of something fucking magical in my life.

Have I mentioned recently I really love this story. Trust me I will fucking finish it. Oh my god the demons won't leave until I do. Get them out of my head…

I had a pretty rockstar weekend. I believe the reason I skipped the PT that weekend was because I'd watched it the month before or so. Right after finishing the Clone Wars animated series (which is awesome and I strongly recommend both it and Rebels). I skipped them and SOLO.

Starting with R1, I went through in chronological order. I stopped at RotJ. I was with my family on Saturday and they were playing RotJ in the living room during the party. We talked about my marathon. My mom came over to my apartment after. We watched RoTJ properly. Then Force Awakens. It was too late by then to watch TLJ. I know I went straight to bed after my mom left on Saturday night.

Somewhere during or right after TFA I started thinking about Deceive the Deceiver. I don't remember what sparked it. I went to bed thinking about DtD. I know this with 100% certainty because I woke up thinking about again on Sunday and I thought it was quite odd.

I dream about this story in a way I have only dreamt about a precious few. Technicolor folks. It keeps me up at night.

I went to my writing group with (a) no plan for what to write, (b) a gordian knot that I had yet to untangle, (c) a sudden urge to re-read it. I opened my notes and read DtD through all our sprints. I read most of it during that writing session. We go about three hours.

That night I had Game of Thrones at my parent's. It was the (spoiler alert) episode where Arya kills the Night King. I remember because two minutes into the episode my brother's car broken down a few blocks from our apartment and we had to go help him. Derailed the whole night (this is foreshadowing).

Side note: I live with my younger brother and he's the best roommate I've ever had in my 35 years of life. Love you, Mo!

The episode was recording so we ran out. Had to leave the car in a parking lot. Someone had already helped him push it out of a puddle but my brother was soaked to mid-calf and the engine was shot. We dropped him off at home and I rode back to my Momma's crib to watch GoT. It was only the beginning of a wild night.

I went to bed late. I had to get up a few hours early to deal with the car before work started for either of us. I guess we were both hoping to avoid taking the day off. That wasn't going to happen. I drove home but I couldn't sleep. That crazy episode and the fact that my brain was already on fire with DtD.

I spent the wee hours finishing my re-read through the rough draft of Read Between the Lies. It saw my starting place. I started writing. I wrote through waiting in a parking lot, for the tow truck, in my car, at 6 am, with no sleep. I did a voice recording as I drove from the parking lot to the mechanic where the driver was taking my brother's car. I thought about it the whole way back. I sat on the sofa a wrote some more when we got home. I went to bed at 11 am and I'd written 10k more words for Read Between the Lies.

Somewhere between the chaos of May 5th and the official publish date on June 5th, Read Between got written. I know it didn't take too long. I remember sending it off to beta (by my amazing beta team on 1 & 2: Em, Jen, and Sai) and immediately pivoting to my outline. I slapped that together far too hastily and kept moving. I was going on holiday in the UK (I'm American and I'm ashamed) in early August so I planned on trying to publish Part 2 when I got back. At the very least I wanted it ready for beta.

Also some to admit, around the middle of 2019 I was fatigued with the fandom. We were hitting a lull. I was psyching myself up for the end and the exit. I was trying to clean house. I wanted to push out unfinished fics. To make them work. There was a lot of that mood from me in 2019. I was trying to make everything work. It's why Read Between came out, and that was a good thing. It's also why Mistrust came out, and that was a bad thing.

With that mentality looming, tough outline in hand, I started writing Mistrust before the end of May. I hit my snag sometime during the period I was publishing Read Between because by the time it was all done I knew I wasn't going to have a finished story by the time I left for London. I would figure it out when I got back. I picked up another project to distracted me from my problems for a little while. That is going to be an original if it's anything. One day…

At some point after I got back I started focusing heavily on problem solving. I had two stories already and a number of plot threads I had to resolve. I have heavy, heavy, heavy notes from September to December of 2019. Lots of possible ways to run this story. It sucks that a lot of that stuff isn't going to make it, but I'm recycling shit every day and I learned so much about the characters/story in that four month period. It really shaped the finished product in an important way.

This period is where I started to look at the bigger structure and how I was going to solve specific plot problems in each short story to bring the whole together. That focus on the different parts is important because it was the last thing on my mind when TRoS happened.

December 20th (the release date) is my birthday. My ass drove up to one of those Reylo-only screenings and I was surrounded by amazing people as I watched a movie that ruined my 35th birthday. Thankfully, I spent it in incomparable company. Thank you to all the hosts and super special thanks to Jen. Not only was she a DtD beta on both, she invited me. Thank you love! You are the reason I still remember that trip with joy.

Side note: I no longer hate TRoS. I've made my peace with it. I'm a far happier person now.

Needless to say, the only Reyloing I did in January of this year was venting frustration. Then I took a few weeks away from the fandom. I'd done my purging into the void. I knew other people still needed the space to vent but I had to get away. Once the toxin is out I couldn't let it back in.

What occurred starting in February of 2020 was a series of situations in which, every time I logged into Twitter I was faced with the kind of vitriol in the fandom that I don't need in my life. Some of it was still TRoS stuff, even as late as May. I'm not judging, I'm just saying, with the world on fire (literally), I didn't need it.

I don't think I have to explain why I've avoided social media like the plague since early this year. I live in America. If you heard anything about our recent President I don't have to explain any further what this year has been like. That has been par for course all over the world.

So here's my secret to happiness. I don't fux with the trolls. Do not engage. Sometimes that means radio silence. I'm breaking that silence because I want you to know 2020 has not destroyed DtD. It's only leveled shit up.

I have pretty much been working on this story consistently since March of this year. I go back and forth with reading, history, documentaries. I'm learning to wield many new weapons. They take time to settle in. DtD is the de-stressor I go to in between the real shit.

Sometime in June I was screwing around with the order of the parts. I had worked out the end but I was trying to bridge the gap between the ending I was certain I needed to get to and the two beginning stories I'd already published. I couldn't bridge the gap. It had been a year since I published Read Between and it wasn't working. Then I had an epiphany.

What if I got rid of Mistrust? Read Between is a pretty blank slate. I didn't want to re-write it and I still don't. I have no intention of getting rid of Part 1. I may clean it up and add some stuff at the very last minute, but it will be right before the new stuff drops as a pre-cursor to the flood of subsequent stories. I may add a few new clues or alter a scene or two, but I have plenty of room to move with it exactly the way it is.

What does that mean for Mistrust Goes Both Ways? To make a long story short, there was no good way for me to continue with what I'd published and still write the story in my head. I'm sure there are cool places to take the existing story, but that's not what I'm trying to do. In truth, I should have left 1 and not published 2 when I hit a snag. Lesson learned.

In June I basically threw Mistrust out and asked myself, "Now what?" I have months of great ideas rife for reshuffling and no restrictions on how to bridge the gap from 1 to the ending I wanted. But the end had shifted.

That brings us up to speed. The last thing I did before taking a much needed break was get through 90% of the history in my accordion outline/draft. I poured the foundation that was missing. I walked away in early October and let it set. I'm going to button up this other fic I'm working on and then go back to DtD and check the foundation I laid.

I'm very confident that not only will it hold, but that with fresh eyes and the fun side stories I've had the chance to lay to rest, I will finally be able to start building the finished products on top of it.

IN CONCLUSION

I'm still as excited as I've ever been for this story. It frustrates me all the time, but that means the medicine for my soul is working its magic. Change it painful, but pain is transformative. I've embrace changed. That ache is just a sign the muscles are getting stronger. Growing pains. As I learn to live with them in my family, my country, and my job, I find that life's lesson's often end up reflecting in every place in our life if we but open our eyes to look.

Growing pains exist in my writing process too. They are as transformative in this corner of my life as they are in every other. They have revealed as much about me as a person in my writing as they have in my politics. They have taught me how to compromise with my family as I learn to compromise with my characters. As I consider how people treat each other I am reminded that struggles in understanding our fictional counterparts may shine a light on our struggles to understand our truer selves.

Take care of yourselves. Once you've got that covered, if you can, take care of each other. Feel free to poke me and say hi. If not, until next month.

Fari.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Hold the door (BC x Reader)

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Warning: Spoilers for GoT S4 & S6 E5

Summary: Fantasy can be brutal yet be addicting after a long day of work. Fortunately, a dearly loved kangaroo knows how to lessen the pain of the politics of Westeros.

Author’s Note: Top o’ the morning!

This is my first piece for Stray Kids since they are slowly taking over my life and especially Chris (Bangchan). Hopefully, despite this being not BTS-related for once, it is still an enjoyable read.

For any Stays reading this and who are not acquainted with my works as of yet: I hope I do not disappoint.

Masterlist

A good story evokes emotions with its imagery and plot line, even more so when actors play out the scenes which are craftily adapted to a visual new format despite being written first in ink. The series ‘’Game of Thrones’’ is a splendid example of what might happen in a scenario in which the story hits harder than expected, beloved characters dying left and right while the audience can merely look on in horror.

Or cheer in delight in Joffrey’s case.

The day at work at the café in the centre of town had been hazardous, the arrival of spring break ensuring lots of tourists to come in to taste and photograph the seasonal specials while enjoying the gradually becoming warmer sunny weather. The entire shift literally consisted of creating soft sweet sakura custard buns and sweet lush green mochis decorated with a rice dough cherry blossom and petals, slicing up the slightly floral cheesecake with a pink inside that had to be remade perhaps four to five times due to the high demand. Not to speak of the effort to deliver with making the time-consuming coffees and hot or cold cocoas befitting the abundant fall of sakura around the village. However, such are the duties of being part of the already small team: each person has to be able to work all-round when this time of the year comes despite there not being too much patronage otherwise since the city is not that big nor well-known.

But every exhausting shift makes a mini-marathon in the evening of the new season of ‘’Game of Thrones’’ all the more deserved, simply sitting back on the comfortable creme-coloured love seat with a cup of freshly prepared ice coffee and either a tub of cookies and cream ice cream or a protein bar in the same flavour. Fortunately, it is not minded by the boyfriend of one and a half years since the blonde athletic boy can mostly be found at the gym in the evenings when not hanging out with friends.

Nonetheless, Chris’s absence is more of a curse since the first episode of the night has a grander impact on the psyche than expected, making a firm hug that is mostly tried to be escaped from under normal circumstances now dearly desired. Too many impactful emotional events follow each other up at the end of the sixth season’s fifth episode, triggering the rare reaction of tears in eyes that can merely watch and a palm wrapped over a speechless mouth.

The response is even powerful enough to miss the click of the front door of the shared apartment and the dull thump of the ashen buffalo bag filled with sports gear in the tiny entryway leading to the studio, much less so the giggle following the habitual greeting of “I’m home, babygirl”, which is still awkward despite the many times it has been uttered.

‘Hey, Y/N, are you, wait, are you crying?’ As soon as the credits roll over the screen and the DVD is paused, fingers unclasp from paralyzed lips to wipe away the watery traces of the damage done by mere yet gripping fantasy which stirs the youth to rush over to the couch and rapidly take place on the empty spot formerly occupied by bare feet, making a sorrowful being bounce slightly with the impact of the sudden additional weight. Firm veiny arms are immediately clung onto when they initiate an unbreakable embrace, one slender hand placed protectively on the top of the head, cradling it against the shoulder. ‘What happened?’

No answer comes per direct, first throwing out every bit of frustration thanks to fantastical explicit cruelty while holding on to an oversized sweat-soaked onyx shirt but not minding the hint of sourness to the characteristic scent of minty soap. The golden-haired lad resembling a kangaroo when fired up with energy has taken on the tranquil appearance of a koala, its counterpart, and simply waits patiently until the incoherent blabbering attempts at voicing a reason for the silly behaviour gain a sense of logic. Simultaneously, the left upper arm is being rubbed in uncomprehending close solace, chin resting on the crown of the head when not giving soft caring forehead kisses and whispering soothing nothings.

At last, after a good while of crying, it is dared to look Chris in the eye to tell what forms the reason for the curious distress. Nevertheless, it is an obvious fact the thumb caressing the cheek while explaining forms one of the support pillars which keeps speech steadier than it would be without. ‘Geo- George R.R. Martin is a bastard. He- He let Bran’s wolf be killed by Whitewalkers and- and... Hodor...’ A heavy sob. ‘M- mea- means “ho- hold the door”...’

The very vivid thought about the death of the kind giant at the door arises, initiating a continuation of the lament created by a splendid bastard of an author’s writing. The hug tightens, a rumble in the trained chest beneath the slick flowy fabric resulting in an adorable chuckle as tears stream down a pale neck. ‘You take it way too seriously, Y/N. It’s just a story. Nobody’s actually dead, everything is fine.’

‘Shut up, Chris, you do- don’t know what power George has.’ It is incredible how ‘’Game of Thrones’’ has escaped the attention of the Australian platinum youth, but at the same time places him in a disposition of ignorance about how sensitive talk about the show can be. Certainly for long-time viewers who have likely seen their favourites be brutally murdered in favour of plot progression.

‘No, I don’t, but how about you show me and I’ll try to protect you from it?’ Hazel irises light up at the prospect at one of the most loved things aside from the steady relationship with a girl who gets carried away into fantasy too often and, judging by the broad smirk that begins to form, the continuation of the proposal is nothing surprising yet deliciously loving. ‘With food?’

‘Tha- That’s your solution to ev- everything, isn’t it?’ A careful curl of the corners of the mouth forms out of the sorrowful expression at seeing the genuine giddiness at a second dinner or, rather, late night snack together. Although, it also arises out of the vivid images quickly flashing by of the personified koala’s silly movements whenever something tastes incredible, the funny habit always a cause for affectionate laughter and a source of confidence in the at times doubtful personal cooking skill.

‘It always makes you smile,’ a stray strand is tucked behind the ear, plush roseate lips placing a sweet kiss on the forehead, ‘I’ll first take a shower and then prepare some tteokbokki. How about that?’

Unconsciously, a consenting eager nod is already given before the reaction can be even thought about, the stomach having overtaken demeanour out of anticipation of the small rice cakes. ‘Extra spicy?’

A slight nervousness slips into attitude, eyes holding a silent plead for toning down on the spice levels because the last time they were too high for most to handle, Cris’s friends who came over for the monthly movie night all frantically reaching for cucumber and milk to nullify the impact while trying to save the fellow Australian of the group at the same time. Withal, howbeit while clearly contemplating to adjust the amount of gochujang regardless of the request, the proposal is agreed to. ‘Sure, extra spicy it is. Now, don’t you dare continue in the meanwhile or I won’t cuddle you for the rest of the week.’

A sceptic roll of the eyes, finding no credibility in the statement considering the personality of the speaker. ‘Oh, come on, we both know that’s an empty threat.’

The slightly loosened embrace tightens to a literally breathtaking degree once more, but now it is tried to be escaped as is normally the case when the blonde youth tends to get cheesily clinging. ‘Or I hug you to death, your choice.’

‘Let me go!’ Any type of resistance results in the opposite, becoming more and more the prisoner of secure loving arms instead of a free woman. Notwithstanding, it cannot be said it is minded, though the rumbling in the stomach betrays the recently realized craving for food that can only be had when giving in.

‘Not before you answer.’ The heavy weight suddenly tipping the scales cannot be prevented from being the oppressor of the strength that is unable to lift it, head hitting the soft pillows of the sofa on the other end as the sporty lad with dewy skin maintains the firm hug. A delighted playful chuckle sounds at the realization of having the held figure exactly where she is apparently wanted, unable to be freed before having made a decision. ‘Well, what’s it gonna be?’

‘Either way, you’ll suffer. Option one leaves me alive but you’ll get cuddle withdrawal symptoms. Option two leaves you without your favourite squishy.’ An eyebrow rises in challenging mockery which will only worsen the circumstances though the sarcasm cannot be helped. Just as in the brutal series, if you play smart, you shall survive. And this preferred victim of affection, this most beloved fighter of clinging hugs, has plans to survive the night.

‘Aren’t you clever, turning my own words against me?’ A lopsided smirk forms on the koala boy’s face, eyes illuminated by playful lights.

‘In the Game of Thrones, you live or you die and I intend to do the former.’ Henceforth, a cute sweetness slips into speech as lips irresistibly pout, manipulating Chris even further into hurrying up in fulfilling the promise of tteokbokki and stop stalling the rest of the well-deserved marathon. ‘I’m hungry.’

Blonde locks bow in amused defeat, shaking briefly with acknowledged surrender before gazes lock again. ‘I have no idea what that reference means, but you win this time, Y/N. Can’t let my babygirl starve.’

The characteristic awkward laughter accompanying the nickname by default ends the topic of debate, the kangaroo boyfriend lifting himself off a half-crushed no longer entirely torn by fantasy figure to finally shower. In the absence filled with the lingering traces of songs sung with an angelic voice, more pillows and a thin ornately decorated blanket are gathered for properly snuggling up with delicious food and an amazing but heartbreaking brutal show.

Sweater paws clad in a soapy mint oversized sweater wrap around the platinum youth’s waist to give him a taste of his own medicine, trying to show how inconvenient it can be when a person is basically glued to you during household tasks, which lets them become increasingly more complicated due to the loving gesture. Withal, it does not have the intended effect as the young man manages to get along with making the rice cakes coated in a fierce red sauce just fine although it does pose a bit of a risk when a small hand reaches out for the gochujang tub to add more to the sauce and the chef obviously not consenting to this idea, the dispute resulting in play fighting that almost turns the fire pit open too far without further notice.

The tickling almost results in burns and burned clothing, the just as touchy retribution barely short of ending in a trail of sauce stains leading from the kitchen floor to the fake black leather loveseat thanks to fingertips poking sides. Regardless, it is managed to be reached without further ado, the cruelly incredible series resuming with one strong arm wrapped around the shoulders, a warm meal split in two put into two laps sitting side by side. Occasionally, a chewy tteok is fed with a content smile from the bigger portion of the athlete eating like a starved man, who is evidently as happy with the result of the obstructed cooking as the appreciating look in the eyes of the accepting mouth, going by the happy wiggles accompanied by tuneful hums.

And thus the imaginary intriguing political game synonymous to crimson onslaught continues, because the questioning, at times shocked, comments made out of ignorance brighten the mood due to their silent request for an explanation, delighting the nerdy fangirl within to no end.

Keeping the worst of silly emotions at bay.

Holding the door.

[lilyvandersteen]

Facing Your Dragons Chapter 6

Here's a new chapter for you, from Kurt's and Pam's point of view :-) Enjoy!

From now on, the updates will be a bit slower again. I've got no ready chapters up my sleeve anymore. I promise I won't keep you hanging for too long, though. Thank you for your patience!

You can also read the story on AO3 or on FF.net.

Chapter 6: Unexpected

When Kurt and Blaine walked in holding hands that Wednesday afternoon, Dolores cooed at them. “Blaine made his move, did he?”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

“You’re too cautious, honey. And I can’t blame you, knowing what you’ve been through.”

Kurt sighed. “Touché. And… It was the leather pants, really.”

“Thought so. I saw you drooling. Well, about time somebody tapped that ass.”

Both boys blushed, and Dolores cackled, so they made a hasty retreat to the snoozle room.

Cheers went up when the children saw them hand in hand, and Blaine grinned and pecked Kurt on the cheek. Kurt felt his lips stretch as far as they could go, and he knew that he must look dopey, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

After singing a few songs, Kurt told the children another story about Thomas and Dalinda.

“One day, Thomas and Dalinda were travelling through a region full of farm land. They saw grazing cattle, corn fields and big, well-maintained houses, and Thomas was glad. Rich farmers could always use an extra hand in return for a bite to eat and a place to sleep.

Only, when he knocked on the first door, nobody answered, though he heard panicky voices inside the house.

Thomas shrugged and walked away, but when the same thing happened everywhere he tried his luck, he became alarmed. What was going on?

Just then, he caught sight of movement. He whipped his head around and saw a girl beckon him. She started a little when he came closer, but didn’t run away.

“If you’re hungry, you can have this,” she said, and she gave him a bread roll filled with scrambled eggs and a goblet of milk.

Thomas was hungry, and scarfed it down quickly. “Thanks! What can I do for you in return?”

“Nothing, nothing! Please leave as soon as you can, before the giant finds out you’re here.”

“The giant?”

And then the girl told him about the greedy giant who’d arrived in her region two months ago. “He said he’d bought the castle and all its grounds from count Stanislav, and he invited us all for a feast, because he was our new landlord now. Count Stanislav was a good man, and had the habit of inviting us often, so we didn’t think that was odd. But then at the feast, the giant drugged us. The food or the drinks, I don’t know, but we all fell asleep. And when we woke up, one person of every family was gone.”

“Gone where?” asked Thomas.

“Thrown into the dungeons,” the girl scowled. “The giant told us that we’d better work hard and give him our entire harvest, or else he’d kill the people he detained.”

“Who is it from your family?” Thomas asked.

“My little brother. Pjotr.”

A tear rolled down the girl’s face, and she impatiently rubbed it off with her sleeve.

Thomas rubbed his chin, thinking hard. “Why did you help me, anyway? Everyone else seemed scared to death of me.”

“No, no, not of you, of the giant,” the girl explained. “What he would do if he found out we gave his food to an outsider.”

“So why weren’t you scared?”

The girl blushed. “You look like my boyfriend Peter. The giant took him, too. I thought you were him, at first. That he’d been able to escape. That’s why I wanted to help.”

Thomas hummed, an idea forming in his head. “He looks like me, you say?”

“Your eyes are different, though. And he’s a bit taller.”

“But from far enough away…”

“Yeah, it’s hard to tell the difference.”

Thomas asked the girl to give him directions to the castle, and Dalinda flew him there.

“Ready to play some tricks on the giant?” he asked her, and she flashed her teeth at him in a scary pointy grin.”

Kurt saw a few children shudder, and winked at them with a grin of his own, so that they let out a sigh of relief and a hesitant chuckle.

“First off, Thomas had to find the prisoners in the dungeon, and set them free without the giant noticing. That proved easier than expected. The giant was eating, a huge meal that could have fed the whole village, and paid no attention to anything else but his food, slurping and smacking and burping up a storm.

Thomas found the key to the dungeons and set the imprisoned villagers free, asking the boy named Peter to stay behind. “If you don’t mind? I have a plan to scare off the giant, but I need your help.”

“Anything!” Peter promised. He became a little less enthusiastic when Thomas introduced him to Dalinda, but she solemnly promised not to harm him. They put their heads together to strategise, and then Peter went to the great hall to lure the giant out.

“Giant! Listen to me!”

The giant, now spooning an entire kettle of custard into his mouth, paused and looked around. “Who’s there?”

His voice boomed through the room, and Peter’s knees knocked together, but he didn’t run away.

“It is I, the great Corineus. I killed one of your kin before. Begone before the same lot befalls you!”

The giant stood up and peered at the tiny boy in the doorway. Then, he laughed so hard he had to hold on to his belly, and bellowed, “You, little mouse? You’re no match for me!”

A flame coming out of nowhere singed the giant’s beard, and he yelped.

“I may be small, but I have magic,” said the boy, who was now sitting on one of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, swinging to and fro as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Another burst of fire hit the giant, setting the back of his pants ablaze, and he screamed and tore out of the hall and out of the castle to sit down in the moat until the water had put out the flames and soothed his burnt buttocks.

“Wait ‘till I get my hands on you,” the giant growled, getting up and heading back inside.

Just then, a shrill whistle sounded, and the boy waved from the top of the battlements.

The giant shook his fist at him and thundered up the stairs until he reached the castle’s highest point.

The boy was still there, standing on the outer wall, his back to the giant.

The giant grinned in triumph. If he could just reach the boy without being noticed, he just had to give a little push and he’d be rid of the pesky little nuisance forever. That side of the castle was built on the edge of a mountain cliff. There was no way anyone would survive a fall like that, especially since the rocks below were jagged and sharp.

He advanced as quietly as he could, but just before he could shove the boy, somebody yelled, “NOW!!”, and a lot of things happened at once.

The boy jumped to the side, the floor under the giant’s feet gave way, and he fell, fell, fell, all the way down, and was never heard of again.

The villagers rejoiced, especially when they found out their old landlord, count Stanislav, had been one of the giant’s prisoners, and had never sold his castle nor moved away.

Everything was put to rights again, and Count Stanislav and the villagers threw Thomas and Dalinda a lavish party, and rewarded them with so much money that Thomas didn’t have to work a day the rest of that year.

THE END”

Lou sighed happily. “Can we hear more about Thomas and Dalinda next time you come?”

Kurt laughed. “Maybe. If Blaine doesn’t have a story to finish.”

The children cheered, and came to hug him and Blaine before they left.

Kurt was still grinning ear to ear when they passed Dolores’ desk.

“Going on a date again?” she wanted to know.

“Meeting the parents, actually,” Kurt told her, and his good mood deflated a little.

“My mother,” Blaine clarified, and squeezed Kurt’s hand. “She’ll love you, I promise.”

Dolores whistled long and low. “Good luck with that, Kurt! Blaine, you’ll be back tomorrow?”

“I… Maybe Friday?”

Dolores cackled. “Rachel not doing it for you?”

Blaine shrugged. “She doesn’t need me.”

“Kurt doesn’t either, sweetie. But Friday’s fine. See you then!”

K & B

Pam paid the taxi driver and rolled her suitcase up the driveway. She let out a weary sigh as she looked for her house key. She was exhausted and hungry, and could only hope that the freezer and pantry still held a few staples she could turn into a quick meal.

When she stepped inside, she heard singing. It wasn’t coming from the living room, nor from Blaine’s room. It came from… the kitchen? Did Blaine leave the radio on?

She quickly took her coat and shoes off – oh, what a relief not to have to wear heels anymore! – and hurried to the kitchen.

Blaine was nowhere to be seen, and the house was strangely neat. No bowls or mugs or pizza boxes on the coffee table. The living room looked like it had been vacuumed recently, and in the dining room, the table was set. For three? Now that was weird. And there was a vase with flowers on the table, artfully arranged. Even weirder. What was going on?

Pam stopped dead in her tracks when she arrived at the kitchen and saw a total stranger stirring a sauce on the stove, singing and swaying his hips.

Pam yelled, “Who are you and what are you doing here? I warn you, I’m carrying pepper spray!”

The guy whirled around with a squeak, and she saw that he had tons of piercings, and a tattoo on his neck. Panicked, she rummaged in her purse for the can, and was just about to point it at the stranger and spray into his eyes when a voice from behind stopped her.

“Mom? Mom, you’re home!”

Blaine hugged her, beaming ear to ear, and then tugged her towards the stranger. “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Kurt. We’re making you dinner, as a welcome home surprise!”

Pam must have looked like a fish on dry land, eyes bugging out and mouth hanging open, but who could blame her… Blaine had a boyfriend now? After barely a week at that school? And he hadn’t been beaten up about it yet?

She scrutinised Blaine’s face, and detected some puffiness around one eye. Yep, definitely a black eye on the mend. Well, thank heavens it wasn’t worse. She guessed the money she’d spent on Blaine’s summer boxing course had paid off.

Blaine’s boyfriend turned back to the stove with a sigh, and continued stirring, his shoulders stiff and hunched up now. Blaine handed him a spice jar he’d fetched from the pantry, prattling on happily about how wonderful the sauce smelled, and how Pam had arrived just a little bit too early since the sauce would have to simmer for a while and they still had to cook the pasta.

Since when did Blaine cook?

“You’re… You’re cooking?”

Blaine beamed at her again. “Kurt is teaching me. He’s an amazing cook, Mom, you’ll see.”

Pam nodded. “I can tell. Thank you. This is… Wow. I wasn’t… I wasn’t expecting this. At all. Kurt, it’s nice to meet you. And I’m sorry about threatening you with pepper spray.”

Kurt turned his head around, eyes wide, and then sent her a cautious smile. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Politer than he looks, that one. Good.

“You did what, Mom?!”

Pam held up her mace can. “In my defence, I had no idea this was your boyfriend, Honey Bee. I was scared.”

“I understand,” Kurt said. “But I’m glad Blaine arrived in time to rescue me.”

Pam giggled. “You should show Kurt your Nightbird costume sometime, Honey Bee.”

“Mo-om!!”

Kurt’s eyes sparked with interest. “A superhero costume? Remind me to introduce you to Sam. He started a superhero club at McKinley a while ago. Seems like you two will get on well.”

Blaine cocked his head to the side. “The Sam that reads to the children at the home every Tuesday?”

“That’s the one. I don’t think he’ll be able to do that the coming weeks, though.”

Kurt let out a long sigh and continued. “His dad lost his job, and they lost their home, too. They’re living in a motel for now. Sam’s been babysitting his brother and sister after school, and working as a pizza delivery boy at night.”

“That’s rough.”

“Yeah.”

Pam felt a pang of commiseration for Sam’s family. “That’s horrible. And here we are with such a big empty house.”

She’d kept the house after Edward moved out, but found it hard to scrounge up the rent every month. As soon as she found the time, she’d go house-hunting for something smaller, especially since Blaine would be off to college next school year.

“It’s way too big,” Blaine agreed. “I mean, I like the garden, but we have six bedrooms. For just two people. That’s just insane.”

Pam moved towards the pan with boiling water, put the pasta in and set the kitchen timer. “It’s what your father wanted.”

Blaine scoffed. “A house big enough for all the wives he cheated on and all the children he never wanted?”

Pam swallowed with difficulty and looked away.

She felt strong arms envelop her in a hug.

“Sorry, Mom…”

She kissed Blaine’s cheek. “It was hard on you, honey bee. I get it.”

“It was hard on you, too, Mom. Dad moving out, and then Dalton refusing to grant me a scholarship because Dad’s rich and he’s still my father, even if he doesn’t pay a cent for me. And then they beat me half to death at Westerville High and I was the one who got expelled.”

Pam gritted her teeth thinking of Westerville High’s principal. He hadn’t wanted to get rid of his most promising football players, so he’d chosen to get rid of the queer kid instead. She’d wanted to rage at him for hours, but she knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

“Well, this time around, you’ve been able to defend yourself, I can tell. Is that black eye the only injury you got?”

Blaine gaped at her. “Yes. But… How? Kurt put on concealer and everything! You shouldn’t have been able to see!”

Pam quirked an eyebrow. “Blaine. I sell make-up for a living.”

Blaine shared an ‘Uh-oh, busted!’ look with Kurt, and jumped when the kitchen timer went off.

“Well, dinner’s ready,” Kurt announced chipperly. “You can go sit at the table and catch up. I’ll be right there.”

Pam took a bottle of red wine out of the pantry and a corkscrew from the drawer and followed Blaine to the table, staring down her son until he told her what had happened. She was relieved he wasn’t hurt worse, but horrified that Blaine had knocked his assailant into the hospital.

“What did you do, break his leg?”

Blaine snorted. “His head, more like. Knocked him out cold with an uppercut, and while he fell, he hit the lockers just wrong, and he bled like an ox. Never woke up, either.”

Pam blanched, and hoped that the kid would regain consciousness and get better. And that his parents wouldn’t make her pay the hospital costs. She really couldn’t afford that. Still, wouldn’t they have contacted her before now in that case?

She smiled at Blaine, determined to look at the bright side. Blaine hadn’t been expelled, and he seemed to enjoy the community service he’d been sentenced to.

“So you have to volunteer at that home now for how many more hours?”

Blaine scratched his head. “I dunno… I could ask Dolores? I don’t really care, though. I love going there. The kids are amazing.”

“They are,” Kurt chimed in, setting a steaming plate of food in front of Pam and handing one to Blaine too.

A moment later, all three of them were enjoying their pasta, and Kurt told Pam all about the children at the home, leaving her wondering how in the world she’d managed to be spooked by such a sweet boy. Camouflage. The hair and the metal and the tattoos. They had to be camouflage, just like Blaine’s outfits and make-up.

Pam complimented the boys on the meal they’d made, which had Blaine grinning ear to ear. The grin only widened when she started discussing Kurt’s use of herbs in the sauce, and it warmed her heart to see her son so happy. She couldn’t even remember the last time he’d smiled so freely, but it had been way too long.

When they had finished eating, Blaine jumped up immediately to clear the table, and he and Kurt started doing the dishes as a matter of course, jabbering and chattering and even singing as they worked.

Pam was used to a disgruntled teenager, who lived on take-out when his mom was out working and who had to be reminded to bin his soda cans, take-out cartons and pizza boxes, so this was a welcome change.

Thank you, Kurt. I think we’ll keep you.

[multiphandomunnies]

Suspicious |Na Jaemin

Admin: Mirae Genre: Fluff A/N: I dont even know what this is tbh XD. I love feedback! Pairing: Baker!(?)Jaemin x Curious!Reader

If you didn’t know about the new bakery opening up in town then you must have lived under a rock

Everyone was talking about it, from the annoying kid you rode the bus with to the grumpy old man next door

Apparently, before they officially open up they went around and gave out a bunch of free baked goods

It was a great way to promote themselves, and it worked,,, really well

You yourself had heard so much about it that at this point you were convinced the owners made a deal with the devil

The bakery was called “Dream Puffs” the owners were residents in your town who mainly kept to themselves

They had a son your age, Na Jaemin, who went to a different school but recently transferred here

You had heard from almost everyone that he was really good looking and sweet, you had never seen the guy so you genuinely didn’t know

His friends from the town were going to help out and work in the bakery, you knew most of them from either around school or your friends

Renjun had been dating your friend, Eunji, for a few weeks now so you knew him the best

All his friends seemed like good people, Haechan could sometimes be a bit of a troublemaker

“Y/n,,, snap out of it, you dip,” Eunji said before flicking your forehead

You scrunched your face in pain at the feeling

“That was completely unnecessary.”

“And yet I did it anyway,” she stuck out her tongue and started to giggle

You playfully rolled your eyes

“Tell me why were are going to the bakery again? It’s gonna be packed.” You stated with a sigh, you couldn’t remember why but you promised Eunji that you’d go to the bakery with her when it opened

“Because Renjun works there and he was able to convince Mr. Na to let us in early,” Eunji smiled at the thought of Renjun and you pretend to gag

“Plus their son is super hot!” Hana piped up from somewhere behind you causing you to lightly jump

“Exactly and since Y/n is painfully single we should find a boyfriend!” Eunji said while acting dramatic

Hana started to giggle and nodded along with every word

You couldn’t help but laugh at your friends antic, they were always so hyper and carefree

The bright orange and pink (think of twice's fan colors) bakery came into sight, it looked like something you’d see in the movies, not in real life

“Junnie!!!” Eunji squealed while tackling her boyfriend into an iron grip hug

Haechan pretend to gag at the sight making you and Hana laugh

“Come In In, you can officially meet Jaemin,” Renjun said after placing a sweet kiss on Eunjis lips

You and Hana laced your arms together as you entered, you made sure to eye the place carefully

Once inside you couldn’t help but gawk, the place smelled of vanilla and strawberry’s, treats hat made your mouth water were delicately placed on display, the place was so colorful and bright

Your mind was blank as Renjun explained something about the place, you hadn’t even noticed that Hana left your side and you were awkwardly standing in the doorway

“You might want to move, I don’t think you’d like to get hit by the door,” a honey-like voice you didn’t recognize piped up

Your eyes lazily trailed to the side where you were met with an incredibly good-looking boy about your age, immediately you knew that this must be Jaemin

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, you stepped away from the door and looked for your friends, Eunji was busy flirting with Renjun and Hana was talking to Jeno

“Thanks,” you quietly mumbled, you leaned back against the soft booth in an attempt to calm down

Jaemin pouted when you didn’t look at him, he leaned until his face was informer do yours, when he saw your eyes dart to his he moved in front of you and smiled

“I’m Jaemin! This is my parent's bakery, are you friends with Renjun?” he asked cocking his head to the side with the brightest smile you’d ever seen

“I’m Y/n. I wouldn’t really say that I’m friends with Renjun but he is dating one of my close friends so I guess that makes us semi-friends,” you said with confusion

Jaemin giggled at your cute expression “Y/n huh, I’ve heard Renjun mention you before,”

“All good things?”

“Eh kinda, mainly how you’re convinced my parents sold their soul to a demon,” at hearing Jaemins words you coughed on nothing and leaned forward to hide your cherry red face

You mentally cursed at Eunji for telling Renjun what you had said

Jaemin started to laugh at your reaction, he found it quite funny that you thought he parents would their soul

“I’m not mad. When Renjun told me I couldn’t help but laugh,” Jaemin said flaming your beating heart

“Okay good, cause I know that when you sell your soul sometimes you can get the demon to help out with others things and I didn’t want to die,” you said keeping the joke going

Jaemin started to laugh at your words, his laugh made your stomachs flutter and your hands get clammy

“Jaemin sweetie, why don’t you give your friends some treats,” his mother called from the kitchen

He nodded his head and glanced at you “I’ll be back,” you watched as his figure disappeared behind the counter

You sighed heavily and wiped your sweaty hands on your legs

Hana carefully approached you “What were you and Jaemin talking about? He seemed to be really enjoying your company,” she said with a sly smile

You thought for a moment “Renjun told him that I thought his parents sold their soul for this bakery,” your words took Hana by surprise, she was silent for a moment before bursting out laughing

“Renjun how could you!” She said approaching the couple

“You told Jaemin what Y/n told Eunji?” She asked Renjun making him chuckle softly

“Oh yeah, oops,” he simply said, you took a mental note to slap him when you had the chance

“Here you guys go!” Jaemin said with that beaming smile of his, he handed you each a cream puff

You rolled your eyes as you took a bite, this would be your chance to see if this bakery lived up at all its hype

Biting down your mouth exploded with the rich flavor of caramel hazelnut, the custard wasn't to thick or liquidy, it was perfect; The puff itself was soft and thin

“How does it taste?’ Jaemin asked taking a stand next to you

Under his intense stare you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks

You turned away and faced a painting on the wall as you spoke “Just how you'd expect it to taste from someone who sold their soul,” you said trying to hide your painfuloy obviosu red cheeks

Jaemin burst out laughing once more “Will you stop with that,” he joked with lightly hitting your shoulder

You pretended to be in horrible pain making Jaemin laugh even more

“You're cute, you know that,” he said catching you off guard

You started to cough at his words “Yo,,you too,” you stuttered out

Jaemin started to giggle at your cute and shocked expression “Renjun you never told me how cute your friend was,” he said catching the chinese boys attention

“Thats because they aren't,” Renjun simply said making you glare at him

Jaemin looked offended before he turned to you with a gentle look on his face, catching you by surprise 

“Hey Y/n, can I have your number?” he asked turning to you

You smiled and bit your lip

“Here you go,” you said with a shy smile 

“Y/n we have to go, you can flirt with Jamein later,” Eunji said while walking out the big doors

“Ill talk to you later?’ you asked looking at him

Jaemin stared into your eyes before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your cheek

“Of course.”

[thepeachgreentea]

A Rose By Any Other Name...

...would not smell as sweet as the inside of the Tom & Sabine Boulangerie-Patisserie.

Rating: E ( for Excessively Explicit Exposition of Edibles ) ((i.e.: literary food p o r n)) 

Ao3 Link

If you had asked the Adrien of five minutes ago what love was he would have waxed poetic about freedom, laughter, a girl with the brightest blue eyes and the sweetest sprinkling of freckles, the color red. He would have ranted about banter, puns, awkward flirtations, and sassy retorts. He knew what love was, what being in love felt like. He knew the feelings that stirred in the soul, the butterflies in the stomach, the champagne in the veins. He felt that startling, intoxicating, heady mix of fear and joy that could only come from finding, falling for, a special person.

But that was then.

This was now and he was actually able to spend time in the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery instead of being pulled through the storefront by one person or another. This was an entirely new feeling and it was amazing. There was a strumming of the nerves in his body, and he could feel his blood rushing, his pulse pounding, echoing his excitement.

The smells that wrapped around him, making themselves at home in his nose and on his tongue were the type that calls for poems upon sonnets upon odes upon ballads to be written.

That heady, heavy scent of flour that means freshly baked bread which starts to fill you up before even taking a bite.

The ever expected light, teasing scent of sugar that knowingly leads you towards buying and eating more than is probably reasonable for one person, for a single meal. It dances around the senses, pulling attention from one thing to another, calling attention to all of the different dancing partners, teasing, cajoling, shouting at Adrien’s unquenchable sweet tooth that he might find success in satiating that bottomless craving, but only here.

Cinnamon winding its way to the forefront, setting up camp and sparking a warm fire. The smell evoking feelings of comfort and sweet, gentle heat. It whispered promises of what could be, what will be once he makes a choice.

Lavender settling in his throat, but not cloying and suffocating as he has often found the scent to be when encountered previously. Instead, it calms him, even just slightly, gives him a reason to relax, to breathe. Here, with the Dupain-Chengs, it is perfect, relaxing. That proper balance of floral and herb, of sweet and earthy. It doesn’t overwhelm but instead soothes, giving a guarantee to do More if he takes even

           just…

                      one…

                                   bite.

And, oh god, when the tempting siren scent of chocolate hit him on top of everything else he was the closest to heaven that he had ever been. That bittersweet smell that stuck to the tongue, to the roof of the mouth, with his mouth drying because now he was parched and needed that lovely aroma to be tangible so he could drown himself in it, in hope of maybe satiating his desire. The heavier smokiness of dark chocolate, the milky cocoa of lighter chocolates, and that almost too sweet essence of white chocolate. He could die if he tried to satisfy the desire that he had for the smell, let alone the taste, of chocolate. And what a sweet death it would be...

As he shifted, taking in another deep breath to try and taste everything just from the redolent air, the scents of different fruits finally reached him. The sweetly sharp and biting smell of orange dancing through his nose and throat. The sugary tang of raspberries wedging its way in with everything else, sticking between his teeth. The comforting and hominess of baked apples wrapping around him.

Oh god, focusing on the smells that he was so quickly falling deeper and deeper in love with were doing nothing for his self-control.

Finally taking the chance to look around him at the tantalizing display cases as he attempted to shake himself from his seductive scent induced daze, Adrien realized this was only going to get harder. Seeing all of the delicious delectables he was currently surrounded with was not going to help his… situation.

The croissants were the epitome of perfection. He could all too easily picture the flakes of airy pastry sticking to his face, his fingers, his shirt. Bites would melt away leaving behind butter, butter, and more butter. He could feel his arteries clogging just from the smell, let alone consuming one or ten or as many as he could get his hands on Right. Now. and it was glorious. Let alone the pains au chocolat, which glistened in the light with all of that butter in the pastry, but with the added seduction of chocolate, a temptation he was so rarely able to give into, unable to indulge in all of his tantalizing and delicious fantasies.

And the chocolate chip cookies - they are that perfect (purrfect) golden brown color but still oh so soft. And you can tell they are soft just looking at them because Tom and Sabine are masterful culinary magicians… the delicious smells curling their way over to him indicating just how fresh they are - a note of heat that said how recently they had been pulled from the ovens and put on display. And he just knew that the chocolate was still perfectly melty, so he can already picture the smears on his hands and face, and the act of lovingly licking away all those traces.

The macarons looking like something out of a fairy tale, or even just lifted directly from his dreams. All fantastical colors and flavors, worth every bit of affection, love, and adoration he could heap at their altar. Some the traditional and time-honored, others more trendy or the result of toiling experimentation by their divine creators, but every single one something he could, wanted, needed to sink his teeth into.

Turning slightly from the tantalizing morsels he was soon captivated again. He could all too easily imagine a wonderful candlelit table, just for him and a tarte Tatin. The caramelization on the apples glinting in the low light, like much more tantalizing jewels. The lovely blend of sweet and tart with the buttery goodness that was just begging to clog his arteries and he was so very weak to that. The pastry flaking, prompting images of a trail leading all the way…

… right into his mouth, causing him to stifle a moan down into a soft whimper because that delectable fantasy was almost too much for his control.

Oh, mon Dieu, those large, mouthwatering baguettes...

The darling cake pops that were pridefully flaunting themselves in their display jar, promised to be the best thing he could wrap his lips around.

And, God, those pain au chocolat, catching his eye (again) with the tantalizing peek of chocolate, were begging to make a mess of him, leaving flecks on his lips, his face. He could think of all sorts of indecent things to do with them…

              …Like eating a couple dozen in one sitting.

But those baguettes... They continuously called a yeasty siren song, bringing his focus back to them, that promised to satisfy his hunger with lascivious carbohydrates wrapped up in a perfectly hard, thick crust that had his mind, stomach, and soul begging to be able to get his mouth around it, to be able to sink his teeth into one to get the prize inside.

Which led Adrien to the éclairs... The beguiling batons of pastry perfection with that oh so special filling. The ambrosia of the glossy chocolate frosting or the delectable caramel that merely hinted at what was secreted away inside an airy pastry. Because in this pastry wonderland the magicians who crafted each delicacy were not satisfied with vanilla and chocolate custards, no matter how amazing, how heavenly they may be. Raspberry, pistachio, lemon, hazelnut, and matcha custards and creams vamping alongside the vanilla, chocolate, and caramel éclairs-next-door. All begging, promising to make a mess of his face, his hands, his pants. To make a mess of him.

The bright colors of the fruit skewers caught his attention when he shook his head to try and push that fantasy to the back of his mind. The label on the jar reading, “糖葫芦 ~ tanghulu,” only caught his attention for a second before he marveled at the various fruits speared together - strawberries, kiwis, mandarins, grapes, pineapple, blueberries - and while not dangerously seductive like many of the others (that were still calling to him, begging him for attention and to devour them slowly or quickly, savoring and gentle, hard and fast, to satisfy all his urges) they were still so very tempting. The candied coating of sugar glistening in the ample sunlight, covering sweet and firm flesh, gently charming him with pleasing curves one after another and tempting sharp bursts of flavorful bliss if even just nibbled.

The gorgeous stained glass rosettes of the fruit tarts caught the light out of the corner of his eye. Various kaleidoscopes of bright morsels of fruit in varying patterns and designs, all nestled into a sumptuous cream that Adrien nearly fell to his knees with how much he wanted to dig into it, to get a taste, to truly be the cat that got the cream. The different notes of tart and sweet, the textures of each section - the lovely crumbly crust, the smooth vanilla cream, each bit of fruit slightly different - all coming together to make a symphony of flavorful seduction that he was so weak against, vulnerable to all the enticements that abound and surround him.

There were just so many temptations in terms of creams that he just knew would kill him trying to choose, they all hit upon his needs, his cravings, his desires. Perched above a placard for sfogliatella, nestled on top of one another were small fans of amazingly layered and flaky pastry. The fillings almost bursting out of the pastry shell, some with a beautiful orange tinted custard - or something, Adrien was too busy picturing biting into the delicious dessert during a sunset, in a secluded corner of a park to figure out what it actually was - and others a perfect and pristine cream that was ready and willing to trickle out the side of his mouth when he finally got his lips on it. And that powdered sugar that graced the tops of them all would get on his hands, his shirt, his pants giving him a reminder of just what had happened and, o h d i e u x, did he want that…

His eyes, and tastes, paused and then skipped right over the small but diverse selection of cheese tarts and breads, sending a much less tasteful or desired shiver down his spine at the fleeting thought, as he was just not into those…

He was, however, very interested in the madeleines, clafoutis, and other various gateaux and the like. But, Adrien was most especially drawn to the mille-feuille. The delicate structure and complex flavors he wanted to savor, let roll around on his tongue. Sugared cream and fruit, or more sassy chocolate or coffee, or maybe a bit of gently sweet and nutty almonds. The options were almost overwhelming with the thought of slowly wrecking the treat with his hands and mouth, eventually having to clean away all traces of the event, licking away at his fingers, scraping up traces around his lips...

And, good Lord, he felt like he needed to go to church as he looked at the -

“Oh, Adrien, dear, I’m sorry you had to wait. So, how can I help you? Anything, in particular, catch your eye?” Adrien startled at the seemingly sudden question from Sabine. He looked around and realized that while he was fantasizing, attention bounding around the shop, from case to jar to basket,  the few other people that had been in the bakery had cleared out. Nino was off to the side and very well might have known what was going on inside his head if his stifled snickers were anything to go by.

Sheepishly he turned back to Sabine who was still staring at him patiently, if a little questioningly. While his hand crept up to rub at the back of his neck, Adrien managed to eke out a response, though he almost immediately regretted it as his own embarrassment managed to spike and Nino’s scoffs turned into guffaws.

“I guess one of everything you’ve made is a little much, right?”

[starswornoaths]

♚ - a memory of something paranormal for both?

(I’ll separate them by their names just to make it a little easier, thank you for the patience!!!)

(Also adding a cut because gosh, this wound up longer than I thought it would be)

TL;DR: Uthengentle has an Echo, Serella almost dies, neither are exactly pleased about it

Uthengentle Arcbane

Were the sultana still alive, Uthengentle would be absolutely aghast that security in the Ul’Dahn palace was so lax.

As it stood, it made slipping into the adjoining room to the sultana’s chambers all the easier, though he still took care to lighten his footsteps as he slipped into the dark room and closed the door behind him.

It struck him as odd for how…normal the room looked in the dim light of the moon peering through the shuttered windows. Even as his eyes adjusted, he saw nothing out of place, nothing ransacked—it was as though the sultana had simply stepped out for a moment and would be back any second.

Out of respect for her memory, he did not cross into her bedchambers; that room was not his goal, anyhow.

Breathing deeply, he could smell no trace of death clinging in the air—even for how recently she had died, the room still faintly smelled of sweets and wine. Perhaps it was his proximity to death—and how frequently he came across it in his work—but that he could not pick up that faint smell of decay, even a week on, was enough to press at the cracks in his faith in Ilberd’s words—had the sultana even died, a part of him wondered.

Moving deeper into the room, Uthengentle was suddenly struck by the fact that he only barely knew how Nanamo had died; according to Ilberd, she had been poisoned by Serella’s hand, sure, but how had she managed to slip the sultana the poison? Through her wine? Did no one check her drink before she was given it? How did Serella even get access to it in the first place?

With his anger having been given time to cool, the more he dwelled on Ilberd’s account of events, the more he found himself unsure of what to make of it. What had been a solid, if utterly heartbreaking and enraging explanation of what had happened suddenly seemed…conveniently nondescript.

The more he had sat on it, the less sure he was of anything anymore.

Visiting Raubahn in his prison cell every day since his incarceration had done nothing to quell the feeling that he had made a very, very grave mistake. The Ala Mhigan Bull, his General, his idol, had simply looked at him with what he could only describe as silent disappointment whenever he would bring meals to the former Flame General.

What else could have happened, Raubahn?! Uthengentle had asked him when the silence had gone on for too many days. There was no one else there!

If you have less faith in your sister than I, Raubahn had finally said, his voice a gravelly rasp from disuse. Then you never had a right to call her family at all.

It had angered him at the time, hearing someone he had looked up to so fondly telling him that he was the failure from within a jail cell. That rage had pushed out the thought that maybe Ilberd was wrong, because Uthengentle had made the choice—he had to have made the right one. He had to have.

He wasn’t sure how he would cope otherwise.

But that had been the only thing Raubahn had said to him—any other talking, any other pressing or insistence that Uthengentle wanted to help—was met with only silence, and that same stare of I expected better of you.

As if that had not been enough…no one outside of the Braves looked at him the same anymore. Even some in the Braves gave him a wide berth. Friends, those he had considered family—even the innocuous acquaintances he had made just from regular contact—all suddenly had nothing to say to him.

Uthengentle had enough of the feeling of being ashamed for the coat he wore. He needed to investigate closer, he needed to know if he had earned those looks of open scorn.

His soft soled boots were near silent as he moved about the room, taking in the elegantly domestic space. It was a grander type of domesticity, with the knickknacks and baubles still more opulent than what he had grown accustomed to—in either of his families—but the place had the same familiarity of being made to feel like home.

Moving away from the shelves and the cabinets, all beginning to gather dust, he stepped past a partition in the room. His bright gray eyes settled on the table where it had all supposedly gone down.

It was…strange to look at, he felt. With the chairs kicked over or shoved away from the table, it was an implication of a flurry of chaos, frozen in time amidst the otherwise undisturbed space.

Looking at the scene, Uthengentle hesitated; would he truly be able to find anything without disturbing the furniture? If he had to move anything, would anyone actually be able to tell? Would they even care? Given how infrequently this area was suddenly patrolled, he highly doubted it, even as he quietly edged himself closer to the space.

That was when it hit him.

His sensitivity to the Echo had always been relatively low, typically, and always much, much lower than Serella’s. Rare was it that he had visions of anything at all; whenever it did happen, it would typically be naught but the feeling of remembering something, as if it he were vaguely recalling something someone had told him happened. As if he had always simply known what the Echo had shown him.

This was…it was as Serella had once described it, that he had simply stepped into the past and was watching it unfold, was the one that everything was happening to.

Suddenly the room was flooded with soft, warm light, and the once stagnant air smelled… sweeter. It still smelled of dessert and wine, but it was not a stale and lingering scent, but a richly fresh one, as if something sugary and delightful had just been pulled out of the oven. In a flash, the table was laden with a large tart that had been cut into, with slices served on dainty and decorated plates. 

And sitting in chairs that were suddenly upright and neatly tucked closer to the table were Nanamo, smiling and alive, and just beside her was Serella.

Seeing them both made him feel faintly queasy; Nanamo and her alleged killer, seated over a baked good and chatting made him feel helpless—if he could just reach out, if he could just stop what was to come—

“My thanks for indulging me in this small break from socializing, Serella.” Nanamo said, now over a week ago. “Do forgive me, I fear that there are times when such gatherings tire me.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Grace,” Serella said in a tone Uthengentle recognized with a sharp pang of agony—she was deliberately softening her voice, as she often did when she suspected those she was around would prefer quiet, or had a headache, or just needed to breathe. She…had used that voice a lot with him, in the weeks and months leading up to the banquet, he realized. “I admit, a moment of quiet is nice.”

“If I am being honest, there was another reason I brought you here, more than just a need for a reprieve.” Nanamo admitted, staring at her hands in her lap. “I had wished to discuss something of great import with someone I can trust—someone other than Raubahn.”

“Import, Your Grace?” Serella asked her, straightening a bit in her chair. “If there is anything you need of me, you need only ask.”

Watching the exchange, Uthengentle felt Serella’s worry as if it were his own—was he remembering her Echo? Was that why it was so powerful for him? He heard her thoughts as clear as if she had spoken them: Would now be a good time to mention the bottle Third Unit and Uthen found? Is this related?

Nanamo went on to describe her intent to turn Ul’Dah into a republic in a desperate attempt to give her nation back to her people. She spoke of her intent to step down as sultana, acknowledging that she had failed her people as a leader.

“That was hardly through any fault of yours, Your Grace.” Serella reassured her. “For how young you were when your power was taken from you, you have done the best you could.”

Not exactly the words of a killer, his heart hissed.

“All the same,” Nanamo dismissed her reassurances. “Whether I would have been able to do aught to stop it matters little. It has happened, and my people have suffered for it.” She shook her head. “But no more. This is the last night of Ul’Dah as a sultanate.” She lifted her gaze, her eyes burning with determination. “Tonight, at the conclusion of the banquet, I shall dissolve the sultanate, and let my crown rest where it belongs: in a museum.”

“If that is your wish, Your Grace.” Serella murmured, lowering her eyes respectfully. “Then I will still be your shield. Whatever your goal may be, you need only tell me.”

“Please, Serella.” Nanamo said with a wide, sympathetic smile. “This is a break for both of us.” She gestured to the plates of dessert before them. “Much as I have left my title at the door, I must implore you to do the same. Let us speak as friends; it’s all I have wanted us to be.”

“…Very well, Nanamo.” Serella said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Or should it be Lilira?”

“Perhaps when we are not in the palace walls,” Nanamo said with a playful wink. “I can be Lilira. Maybe I can be her more in the future.”

“I certainly hope so.” Serella said softly.

Nanamo called for her handmaiden to bring them wine as they nibbled on the fruit tart. Standing there with a mouth dry as the Sagolii Desert, it was more than a little strange for Uthengentle’s tongue to suddenly taste rolanberries and custard, a burst of bright sweetness as Serella took a bite of the tart.

Did she have to deal with this when her Echo acted up? He felt a pang of sympathy—and vague hunger—hit his stomach.

The sultana’s handmaiden stepped into his line of sight cradling a bottle of wine, and he recognized her as having recently moved out of the palace following the Sultana’s death. His suspicion—but not Serella’s, he noted—only mounted as the handmaiden poured Nanamo a goblet of wine—but not Serella. That the handmaiden did not even offer it to her struck him as odd—and struck Serella as odd, too, he realized; even if he could not feel her confusion, he saw the way her brow arched as Nanamo lifted the cup to her lips with a soft smile.

And the handmaiden scurried off like a woman being chased, Uthengentle noticed.

“Your Grace, if I may.” Serella said suddenly, reaching a hand out to take the goblet from her.

It might be nothing, I might just be paranoid, but this doesn’t seem right… Serella’s thoughts invaded his mind. His heart squeezed—he had heard more than enough, did he truly have to watch the rest unfold? What was the Echo trying to tell him?

“Whatever for, Serella?” Nanamo asked. “I believe she simply forgot your cup—she should be along with it shortly.” She smiled reassuringly at the Paladin and lowered her glass slightly. “I appreciate your concern, but it is alright. She has been in my employ the longest of all my staff.”

That doesn’t mean anything. Serella and Uthengentle both thought at near the same time.

Before Serella could interject—insist that she at least test it—Nanamo brought it to her lips and sipped.

The poison worked in less than ten seconds.

Uthengentle watched, Serella’s helplessness matching his own as the sultana choked and grasped at her throat. Her eyes filled with tears as she tried to just breathe.

“Nanamo!” Serella cried in alarm, standing abruptly enough that her chair toppled over—exactly where it still sat, Uthengentle realized.

She caught the sultana before she completely fell out of her chair, her body limp. The goblet of tainted wine clattered to the floor—the wine splashing in the shape of the stain that yet lingered on the carpet—and then Serella was ripping a gauntlet off to check Nanamo’s pulse, her faint and ineffective conjury glowing at her fingertips in an effort to keep her alive, and Uthengentle felt a sick twisting in his gut as he heard the door open again.

“Ilberd!” Serella called as she looked up at him—and the ten men he brought with him in alarm. “The sultana, she— go get help—get a chirurgeon, she needs—“

“My, my,” Ilberd hummed in an amused tone as he stepped closer with the pace of a man with all the time in the world. “It would seem the sultana has been poisoned—by the Warrior of Light.”

Cold dread filled Uthengentle’s veins—or was it Serella’s, and he was simply feeling the way she felt? Or was it both? He was lost amidst the reactions his body was having, unsure of where his ended and hers began. Seeing this, knowing the truth…it was little wonder Ilberd’s recounting of events was as flimsy as it was.

But he didn’t need to feel what she felt to know the moment she figured it all out.

The panic on her face turned to cold and unbridled fury­—she only barely snapped her gauntlet forcibly back on before she was reaching for her sword.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Ilberd tutted at her, waggling a finger condescendingly. Behind him, the movement of the squadron unsheathing their weapons gave her pause. “I wouldn’t, if I were you, traitor.”

“Funny,” Serella spat. “I was about to say the same thing.”

I can’t fight them here. Uthengentle heard her thoughts, her desperation and despair. I might hurt Nanamo—and any chance of saving her.

“Go on, then!” Ilberd goaded, spreading his arms out wide as if to accept her blade’s embrace. “Strike us down and cement your guilt.” He sneered down at Serella, still knelt beside Nanamo. “For it would look suspect, would it not? An entire squad of Braves, all murdered in an effort to avenge an assassinated sultana?” Ilberd clucked his tongue. “One would hardly call that a sign of innocence, Serella.”

“I have done nothing, and you godsdamned know it.” Serella snarled as she got to her feet.

“Nothing?” Ilberd asked her tauntingly. “Then you will have nothing to hide.” He motioned with his head to one of the Braves. “Restrain her.”

Though there was hesitation from the Braves, they still did as they were ordered, moving to grip her arms and holding them behind her back. Ilberd stepped forward, his hand reaching out to the pouches along her belt. He moved to a specific pouch at her hip—almost as if he knew exactly what he was looking for—and produced a vial.

Uthengentle’s throat closed. He knew that vial—they had found that vial together just before the banquet, he and the very same men detaining his sister as though she were at fault.

“And what have we here?” Ilberd mocked her. “The very poison that stole the life of our radiant sulta—“

Quick as lightning, Serella’s left arm—her dominant arm—broke free from the man holding it. Uthengentle’s knuckles sharply ached the second Serella’s fist connected with Ilberd’s jaw—well, that certainly explained the egg he had on him when he regrouped with Uthengentle later that night.

He felt a bit of pride for his sister managing to slug Ilberd hard enough he staggered to the floor—and even as Serella was restrained again—with cuffs this time— he could feel that she was darkly satisfied with the way the Braves Commander had to hold his jaw.

“Oh, you will be made to pay for that, Warrior of Light.” Ilberd sneered, still nursing his jaw. “Take her to the Alliance leaders—they deserve to know this bitch’s treachery.”

“You’ve not known my treachery yet, Ilberd.” Serella said in a low voice, even as she was forcibly dragged away. “But you fucking will.”

Coming out of the Echo was…disorienting. Having such a vivid recollection of the past that carried the reactions of another person made his body heavy and sluggish—or perhaps that was the weight of the revelations that now hung on his head. He wasn’t sure of a great many things.

Not the least of which was what he was meant to do now.

He stared at the table and chairs, returned to its state of distress and anchored in the now but holding such dark secrets from not so long ago. It was a scene suspended in perpetuity, as if frozen in waiting for him to discover it.

His anger ran hot beneath his breastbone, and the once dim room flickered with the light of his Berserker’s aura, ethereal flames licking at the air around him in search of something to burn.

How had he not seen it? How had he chosen Ilberd over his own sister, with no show of proof to back his claim?

Even in the midst of his fury…he knew why he had: because Ilberd had wanted him to. Ilberd had planted a seed of doubt and bitterness in his mind from the first time they spoke, saw Uthengentle’s frustration at playing second fiddle to his little sister, and rather than accept Raubahn’s dose of hard truth— that he had engineered his own situation by avoiding taking his share of the credit, even despite her insistence he stand beside her—Ilberd told him everything he had wanted to hear at the time: it wasn’t his fault, she was gatekeeping his glory from him, she was the one belittling and degrading him.

And this was what he had to show for his actions: his sister, spurned and framed—in Coerthas, from what he had heard—the sultana that he had sworn to protect murdered, and every person that he loved and cherished estranged and ashamed of him.

Himself included.

And yet, even through the blood red rage that obscured his vision, he saw two choices available to him: he could continue to stay angry, continue to kick and scream and cry about how unfair things are and lash out ineffectively. He would do nothing but exhaust himself— and those few that were still close to him. 

Or, he thought, sucking in a calming breath even as he wrestled his raging aura back down. Or…he could figure out how to fix this.

Stepping out of the chambers and slipping back into the night, Uthengentle’s face was once more a mask of neutrality, even as his mind whirred with plans on how to get out of this.

Serella Arcbane

It had been a slow struggle against the leader of the assault on Rhalgr’s Reach— a prince of Garlemald, if what Serella had heard amidst the din of war was to be believed. Slow…but eye opening, she decided. 

Their clash was one of an unstoppable force and an immovable object, where neither side had yet given an ilm— but Serella knew that it would not last; she could feel her strength begin to wane, even as she dug her heels in and shoved the mountain of armor and an unflinching mask a few ilms away. Her every muscle screamed in agony— how long had they been at this, a part of her screamed in despair.

And then she heard her brother scream in unbridled rage.

She had only heard Uthen scream that way when he had truly succumbed to the rage roiling within him. It was a scream she had only heard twice before— though given that this was his homeland that was being burned, his brothers and sisters all being struck down, she didn’t exactly wonder at the why.

It surprised her even less that he had, in effect, shoved her out of the way. That he had screamed and yelled until his voice broke and his throat bled as his axe swung with reckless abandon against an unmoving suit of armor that Serella could only assume had a person beneath it.

Her pleas to him to stand down— because he was not going to win like this— fell on deaf ears, but the moment she saw him overextend, the second she saw him swing his broken axe blade too far and expose him to what would have been a fatal strike to his neck…she shoved back.

The Garlean prince’s blade had sliced across her back, from hip to shoulder and carved into her as though she had worn no armor at all. She had fallen— hard— into the blood soaked sand beneath her. Even as she had struggled to stand, to reach for her sword because she needed to keep fighting, the prince had only sought to continue to break her until she lie in the dark and the silence.

Serella felt…cold. Maybe she was wet— was she in water? She had lost herself…but perhaps that was for the best. Though she did not know where she had gone…where she was, she did not hurt. That…that was enough, right? She had been doing something— what had she been doing? Her mind was hazy.

This is no time for sleep, little Ella. From some twenty summers ago and too far away to remember, she heard her father say to her softly, sweetly. 

She could feel a sheet— a bed— distantly familiar, as though only recalled through a dream but solid beneath her. A warm blanket being slipped away from over her. The bed dipped with added weight.

Blearily, Serella blinked her eyes open— there was sunlight streaming through a curtained window, and sitting beside where she lay, she beheld a man she had not seen since her eighth summer. With deep umber skin and kind blue eyes he looked at her with all the fondness in the world— a fondness she still felt she did not deserve.

“Da,” she croaked, her eyes stinging and swimming with tears. “I’m so tired.”

Even admitting it exhausted her.

I know, little acorn. He said, his smile growing sad. But today is not a day for sleeping. The dawn has only just come, and it is time you rose to greet it.

“Again?” She asked tiredly. She blinked away the tears that fell— they obscured him, and she did not want to see him without clarity ever again. Not now— not now that she finally got to see him again. “Can’t I just sleep?” She sniffed. “I’m…I’m broken, Da.”

Bent, he gently corrected her. Bent, little one. Not broken. He held her hand— he was so warm— he had always been so warm, she had remembered— and pressed her own palm over her heart. Do you feel that, little one? She did— her heart thumping steadily, if faintly, beneath her palm. That is your purpose, my little Ella. Up, up, now— you must greet the dawn. He leaned over her and smoothed her sweat slicked hair back. She let out a broken sob as he kissed her forehead. I love you, my little Ella.

Remembering how to live— how to be alive— was agony. Serella choked and gasped and coughed at air she struggled to recall how to breathe. Her body felt as though it had been tossed into a pyre— had they declared her dead, only for her to come back in time for her own funeral? No…this flame was only at the wound on her back, she realized. The burning spread from there— but she was alive. She lived. 

Though there was roaring in her ears, she could hear her brother speaking— what was he saying? He sounded like he was trying to call her back from the abyss, as if he were shouting from the surface into the murky depths she had sunk to.

“Uthen?” She wheezed. Speaking felt…foreign to her, somehow.

“Ellie—!” He sobbed. There was a light— too bright, too much— where were the curtains? Da had them closed, why did Uthen open them? “Oh gods, you’re breathing— hold on, alright sis? I’ve got you— I’ve got you— you’re going to be alright.”

Even as he frantically healed her…she wondered if he was wrong this time.

She just wanted to go back to bed.