#scallop hand roll

[not-dere]

[peachesofteal]

Simon Riley who’s not well adjusted and sticks his thick fingers in your mouth whenever he wants.

He pinches your cheeks together too. Holds the fat tight enough it stings. Enjoys the way your eyes dart around the pub, watching everyone watch you, their concern and curiosity shrinking away when he glares at them.

Ignores Johnny when he hisses to let ‘er go, murmuring that he’s making a scene, and “ye’re gonna get us kicked out again LT.” He holds your pretty face in his fist and smiles as you start to squirm.

Though pinching your cheeks is nothing like sticking his fingers in your mouth.

He’ll grip your chin on the train and press his thumb to the tip of your tongue, forcing it against porcelain teeth. Tips as sharp as razor clams, he scrapes the gnarled edge of his fingernail across their jagged tops, before returning to depress the flat of your tongue until your eyes go wide. Can’t swallow? Can’t breathe. Problem, pet?

He likes the way your teeth shine. Oyster shells iridescent in the sparkling sun of a beach, shucked and shattered, punished by the force of the surf, or the prying strike of a predator. No one shell is alike, millions of spirals and patterns, scotch bonnets and scallops, cockles and cowries, all lining the shore, but you’re the one he sifted through sand to find. His nautilus shell. A perfect spiral, a Fibonacci sequence, the sum of his life and his choices, all here in his hand. One day, he’ll pluck a pearl from behind your teeth, one harvested for him, built from the swirl of brackish water, salt soaked crystals rolled across a seabed until they took shape, a thing, a beautiful thing, made of you, made of him.

He’s fed them to you before. Oysters. Cracked their hinges with his own fists and slipped them down your throat, sea salt and sweet, he couldn’t help but lick inside your mouth after each one, shoving into cracks and crannies, zest of a lemon still tart on your tongue.

You bit him once. The ocean is a tempest, a reflection of yourself, violence humming in a swell only Poseidon could soothe. He gentled your wild tides after that, taught you the stark difference between good behavior and bad, smart choices and reckless ones.

You’re a good girl. You learned.

His fingers find the velvet catch of your cheek too often, and though his cock prefers the back of your throat, the thrashing, vibrating squeeze of your swallows, he likes to tuck into the silk beside your molars. Pretty pockets of a conch shell, protecting a panacea, one made only for him, for his scars.

He drifts there, carried on ocean currents too strong to be stopped when he splits you open on his cock, when he sits you on his lap, when he sates your hunger by his own hand. He insists, even in the pubs, on feeding you bite after bite, thumb and forefinger grazing the roof of your mouth, spongy flesh begging him to press so hard his thumbprint sears to your skin.

At night, he finds your mouth on instinct. Slips right between your teeth and floats away on a twilight tide, like the sea singing a baby to sleep.

[pricegouge]

Thinking about them cumming in readers underwear and having her wear it around

I feel like Price would love the claiming aspect of it but I think Ghost or Gaz would just be annoyed the underwear is in the way of easy access

I feel like Johnny would enjoy huffing and licking them😌

-🫀

Never enough that they're gross, is it? They just gotta make doll a mess, too.

Cw: dubcon. Squirting. Gaz calls it piss so take that as you will. No ageplay here but the panties are cutesy and reader doesn't like it. Cum play/implied eating. Extremely light spit kink. Degradation. Praise, but not for reader. Cuckolding? Free use. Please lmk if I forgot anything this is way too long and way too nasty.

It's rare that Kyle initiates so you should've known he was up to something when he pulled you in close for a kiss. He's so good at it though that you forgot to be suspicious, just reveled in his soft lips and warm hands until he got your bottoms off, slid a finger under the scalloped edging of your panties. "These are cute," he said with a sly grin and you might've rolled your eyes, if you didn't know what it would earn you.

Cute was one word for them, you supposed. Borderline childish would be another. They're not egregious. Pale blue cotton briefs with white clouds dotting them. The trim is minimal, doesn't even scratch at your skin, thankfully, but it's the only thing about them that could possibly be construed as a concession to maturity. Still, you thank him for the compliment instead of telling him how they make you feel completely sexless. You move to take them off for him but his hand catches your wrist, uses his grip to turn you over onto all fours.

"Let's leave 'em on, luv," he hums and you bite back a sigh. At least in this position you don't really have to see them, you think, but he makes it hard to ignore their presence when he starts rubbing his leaky cock into the fabric of your gusset. "Fuck, that's hot," he groans, but doesn't take his time to enjoy it, slotting his cock under the hem so he can rub himself between your cheeks instead. 

It's the noises he makes that get you wet more than anything, the soft huffs when his sensitive head catches on the edging and the tiny, shaky moans he lets loose every time you feel the warmth of his precum bloom across your skin. He can see it, no doubt - the pale fabric clinging to his cock as it begins to soak. He knows instinctively when you start to leak, long fingers wrapping around your hip to rub your pussy through the thin layer. The cotton feels different when it's coated with your juices - almost softer when he works it against your clit. He teases you about it, about how he doesn't even need to touch your pussy properly to get you soaked. You can't really argue with him so you don't, shame licking up your spine when he slots his cock into you unexpectedly - bottoming out in one slow thrust as he keeps working your clit with that rough scrape of fabric and you can't help it, your release soaking you both as it drips down your legs. 

"Shit," Gaz growls, his cock pushed out of your cunt by how hard you try to squeeze him. He slots himself between your cheeks again, free hand laying flat over your ass to give himself something to thrust between. When he cums, he pulls back enough that you can feel it drip onto the rim of your hole, hot and slick where he works his tip against it. It catches once and you squirm away, prompting Kyle to crack you on the ass. It stings, the wet material of your panties doing nothing to help. You yelp, but remain obediently still for him as he winds himself down until he sighs, borderline affectionate.

You roll over when he climbs off you, eager to clean yourself up after the mess he's made but Kyle grabs your hands yet again and tuts at you. "Told you they're cute. Leave 'em on."

He takes some pity when you wrinkle your nose, kneeling before you to soak up most of the mess from your legs and tummy with the soiled blanket. You thank him prettily, hoping if you appease him he'll leave sooner and you can change out of your panties, but Gaz doesn't even seem to listen, pulling a big sharpie out of his pocket instead of acknowledging you. 

"What're you -?"

The felt tip is surprisingly cool when it meets your skin. Gaz's handwriting is neat, making it easy for you to read as he scrawls the word 'cumdump' across your belly. You gape down at him, and the bastard has the audacity to wink as he etches a singular tally mark into your thigh. 

"Gaz!" you shriek, testing your limits, but he just laughs, throwing your pants at you.

"You keep those on. And you keep this," he wags the marker at you, "in your pocket, yeah? Make sure everyone adds to your little collection." 

You're shaking your head before you can even think it through and Gaz pinches the fat on the back of your thigh aggressively. 

"You will, because I'm going to be checking throughout the day to make sure, and if you're not wearing them, or if they're not getting messier, I'm gonna make you lick them clean," he promises. "Dried, tacky cum, piss stains and all."

"That's not fair," you gripe, already pulling your pants on. "I can't control whether or not the others wanna fuck me."

"Well then I guess you better be sweet on 'em, hm?"

***

The panties are absurdly uncomfortable. With your pants on, the thick spend doesn't dry out as easily as you'd hoped it would and worse, the possibility that anyone could potentially smell your wet cunt makes your face heat - makes you drip like a faucet, honestly, but in the end, it's not the smell that does you in. 

You hadn't considered the jeans Gaz had thrown at you for longer than it took to ascertain you (blessedly) wouldn't be wearing a skirt today. When you'd pulled them on, you'd felt nothing but relief for how well-covered you were, not wanting to wander the warehouse in something they could easily push aside because they often did, and if you weren't allowed to clean yourself up after, it would've been a complete nightmare. But in your short-lived elation, you'd failed to notice how pale the wash of the jeans was, how easily wet marks would show.

Simon notices before you do, stalking silently behind you as you move about the small kitchen making sandwiches. No warning, he grabs you by the seat of your pants, big hand worming its way between your thighs to rub thick fingers along the seam of your crotch. His voice is a low pur when he rumbles in your ear, "Need help with that, pet?"

It should shock you - would've even just a few months ago. You've grown used to them now, no longer surprised when they accost you like this. It's one of the few reasons you're allowed to handle butter knives now - because you don't spin around, brandishing it at him wildly.

"No thanks, almost done here," you tell him, calmly assembling the last sandwich. John's, to be eaten later when he was off the phone. 

Simon just chuckles, a little mean. "Not what I meant."

This time, when he pushes his fingers against your seam, you can feel how wet it is against your own skin. You squawk, your first instinct to apologize for some reason. Simon shushes your stuttering with a kiss, his tongue hot and wet even through the material of his mask. 

Simon doesn't usually like a show. Normally, he'll sequester you in a back room, or seek you out in your own when the others have all gone to bed. He changes his tune when his hands get a little too busy, tug your hem up just enough that he catches a glimpse of the ink that stains your skin. He frowns, backing up enough he can read Gaz's mark properly while you sit there and squirm. 

You don't make it to a back room.

"Fuckin' slag," Simon hisses, shoving your jeans down your hips. His fingers find the band of your briefs, pull as if he intends to tear them.

"Wait!" you plead, fingers wrapping around his wrist as if you have any chance of stopping him. It does give him pause, though, more curious as to what could possibly be so important it made you forget your place. "Gaz said I had to leave those on."

The band snaps against your skin when Simon releases it, but he cocks his head at you, undecided. "And why the fuck do I care what Gaz wants?"

"Please, he said he'd make me lick them clean if I took them off."

Expression still thoughtful, Simon pulls at the band again until he can inspect the gusset, eyes glinting when he looks back up at you. "Not seeing a downside for me."

Shit. "I'll let you add to my tally." 'Let' is a strong word and you both know it, though Simon likely doesn't know Gaz expected you to have it added anyway.

"Not much of a cumdump," Simon points out, thumb brushing the single mark on your thigh. 

You bat your eyes at him, overselling but desperate to appeal to his good side. You really don't want to clean these off. "Help me out then?" 

He fucks your thighs. Stood up in the kitchen and squeezing him as best you can, you end up having to hold onto his burly biceps for dear life as he rocks you against his heavy cock, spilling into your panties without so much as a pinch to your clit. 

***

You're back in your room when Gaz finds you. He pulls your pants off and inspects your underwear much like Simon had, grinning up at you when he says he's just checking. He spits in them before he lets you pull them back into place.

***

"Johnny, don't, Gaz said to keep them on." The worst thing about Soap was how little he listened. The best thing was that you were generally allowed to slap his hands away from you, so long as John or Simon didn't see. Johnny himself never seemed to mind too much, always bouncing back. Overeager.

"But she's so wet, bonnie. Can smell her. Need a taste."

You were, was the worst of it. Leaking like a sieve ever since Simon had left you wanting. It was why you'd retired to your gross little room, too embarrassed to be seen with such an obvious, growing wet spot on your crotch. Suddenly, it's hard to remember why letting Johnny lick you clean is a bad idea. "Well, maybe if you slide them to the side?"

You barely have time to register his movements, he's on you so fast. 

The first pass of his tongue is so slick you almost don't feel it beyond the intense heat. Johnny moans, smacks his lips like a child enjoying a cookie, and then dives back in so enthusiastically you can't help but grip his hair, holding him in place as he immediately starts in on the messiest technique he can manage, pulling your slick from you with a cupped tongue just so he can rub his raw stubble against your sticky skin. He moans when you do, breath humid and hot against your skin. You hold your panties off to the side for him, the wetness there dragging against the crease of your hip. It's all so messy, but you can't help rocking your hips up to meet Johnny's tongue, groaning in frustration when he pulls away and -

"Nobody ever teach you how a cumdump works, boy?"

John. He's holding Soap up by the back of his shirt, as if the massive man was nothing more than a spitting kitten, his eyes heavy on the mess between your legs. 

"Sir -."

"Supposed to add to it, Soap, not clean it up." A heavy palm guides Johnny to the floor, patting him affectionately when he settles on his knees, eyes darting nervously between you and the captain. "All that spit, just watering down Gaz's collection."

"Wasnae -."

"Quiet. You watch now, yeah? Show you how to treat a fucking whore."

You know better than to gripe about his words, so you don't. And you know better than to fight him when he snaps your panties back into place, so you let him. Johnny, however, doesn't know better than to whine when John's fingers find your clit, start rubbing the soaked fabric against your neglected nub much like Gaz had earlier. You bite your tongue, but Johnny doesn't - a sharp huff drawing John's attention away for just a moment.

"Don't wanna hear it, Soap."

"Sir, can ah -?"

"No."

This time Johnny's whine coincides with John's thumb dropping lower, dipping the fabric of your panties into your pussy experimentally. Your breath stutters, loud enough that John's eyes snap to your face. Cold, hard. Unsympathetic. He speaks to Johnny but he never looks away from you.

"Behave and I'll let you lick them clean after."

You perk up, the possibility of your punishment being taken from you by the captain - who Gaz could not reproach - making you just as eager to please as Soap himself was. Though you were a little better about hiding it than the man who thanked John repeatedly from his place on the floor.

"Thank ye, cap. Thank ye -."

"That's enough."

"Aye, sir."

Finally, John's focus returns to his actions, watching almost reverently as you soak the material even more. Quietly, as if he doesn't want Soap to hear, he rumbles at you about getting them good and wet and you nod, eager to let Johnny take your punishment.

And then he slaps your mound lightly, breaking the nearly intimate spell between you. "But we have to show the boy how to treat a slut like you, don't we? Which means you're gonna cum on my cock, or not at all."

You groan in frustration, laying back limply as John clutches the gusset of your panties and pulls them aside (hypocrite). He doesn't bother working you open, knows exactly what state you've been left in by the slick that squelches between his fingers where he fists your briefs. Still, John's big, and the stretch leaves you breathless enough you feel punched out, hollow when he gives you no time to adjust before drawing out again, slamming back into you even more brutally.

True to his word, John does not work to bring you pleasure. The way he fucks you is efficient at best, downright punishing at worst. Regardless, worked up as you are, you find your release when his knuckles graze your clit accidentally, and John laughs at you cruelly as you fall apart beneath him. 

"Knew you were a fucking slag," he grunts, pulling out and fisting his cock until he paints your pussy, rocking against it a few times just to make you both twitch in overstimulation. 

It takes you both a moment to realize the slick sounds don't stop when he does, and a quick glance at Johnny tells you why when you find him fucking his own fist, face twisted in pleasure as he eyes your soaked pussy.

"You waste that on the floor and I'll make you lick that up too," John growls, and suddenly you're being manhandled to the ground, spread open in front of Soap while John holds your legs open.

The chords of Soap's neck jump when he cums, pumping himself directly onto the front of your panties. 

"Good boy, Soap. Just like that," John rumbles. Your gut twists, unexpectedly jealous. "See how much better it is when you don't worry about her pleasure?"

"Aye, sir," Johnny pants, looking dazed enough to agree with anything. 

"That's right, cause she's just our little cumdump, isn't she?" He makes you jump when he slaps you pussy for emphasis before hooking his fingers under the band of your panties, sliding them down.

"Ready for your reward?"

[katsukiizmoon]

bodyguard or bestfriend! katsuki who practically lives in your personal space, he's only "looking out for you" and "making sure you're okay" he definitely isn't dependent on feeling your warmth against him, he definitely doesn't get antsy when you're not near him, not at all

Second time writing this, tumblr ate it the first time 🥴 but no because I bet he leaves his shit there and then forgets.i have so many thoughts on this

Katsuki has practically raided every square inch of his apartment. He’s checked every basket, drawer, nook and cranny of the place— and he’s found four pair of boxers. Total.

There’s no way.

A frustrated groan leaves his lips when he notices missing sweatpants. His face twists into a scowl while he shoves the last of his dirty laundry into the washing machine. He snatches the detergent and tosses it in, pressing the button and turning on his heel.

He storms out of his apartment and shoves his keys into the door, locking it. And you know something’s off the moment he arrives. He huffs and puffs like he’s going to blow your house down. All the while, you sit perched on the couch with a basket of laundry and a no-brain-needed show on.

“I’m goin’ fucking insane.” Katsuki grits, carmine eyes peering into your ceiling.

You hum and toss a pair of panties into a nearby basket. A sigh leaves him as his chest sinks beneath the black tank top.

“You always are— but why now?” You raise a brow at his glare, resisting a snicker.

Your fingers lay purchase on a pair of his sweats. Effortlessly, you begin to fold and separate the rest of the laundry. Another pair of his sweats are in your hands as you pause to look at him.

“Searched the damn place top to bottom,” a sigh “- can’t find my shit. Got four pair of boxers. I’m losing it.” He grunts with an exasperated groan.

Katsuki peels his gaze from the ceiling to meet your own. You begin to chortle and snort.

The pair of sweatpants in your hands meet his face with a dull thud. Without thinking, katsuki yanks the offending fabric away and growls.

“Oí, asswipe-“ The second pair meets his face before he can finish and it takes all of three seconds for it to register.

“.. why d’you got my shit?” He takes a deep breath, just like his therapist told him to, trying not to jump to conclusions.

“You always leave your shit here— I’ve got an entire drawer. You’ve even got a toothbrush and face razor in my bathroom.” You challenge, holding up a pair of boxers you’ve just found in the basket.

Katsuki blinks. He has been over a lot. But it’s only because you can’t take care of yourself— you’d die! The blonde runs through memories of cup ramen and expired snacks in your fridge and pantry. His eyes roll.

“Well, I need my shit, brat.” He chooses to say instead.

You glance at the TV to see two of the girls arguing over what food to have at a party. Typical, there’s always that one bitch who wants fruit at a candy land themed party.

“Go for it, it’ll end up back here anyways-“ you chortle and toss a pair of clean boxers his way “-you’re over five days a week.”

Ruby orbs narrow, brows furrowing as he takes playful offense to your statement. A grin plasters across his face and he leans in.

“Wouldn’t have to if a certain shithead could take care of herself, now would i?” Katsuki taunts and assumes victory. He looks proud of himself.

Your brows shoot to your hairline and you laugh wildly. The task at hand half forgotten, fingers reaching into the basket to grab a random article of clothing and throw it at his head.

“Oh please, you come here for back rubs and head scratches.” The teasing tone of your voice has his eyes rolling. Hard.

Katsuki looks down at the fallen fabric and snorts. Big hands put the pink, scallop trim panties in the basket to your right while he formulates a good answer.

You’re not completely wrong.. but you can’t know that.

“Nah I c’mere cause’ you’ll get a scurvy if I don’t.” He lies, grabbing a towel to fold.

Banter continues on and off through the night. He talks shit on the show you’re watching but gets invested anyways. Like always. A plate of steaming curry is served for dinner and afterwards you show him to the stash of his items stored away in your bedroom.

He grumbles and flushes a peachy tone, throwing most of the items in his bag. He leaves two or three pairs, though.

You get lectured again on groceries even though he’s the one that cooks. And, now? There’s a grocery list on your fridge that says “k: bringing order on Monday” in not too-pretty handwriting.

Katsuki finds himself basking in the warmth of your hands later. Pretty fingers rub his taut muscles and tug at the roots of his hair. Nails drag up and down, up and down his shoulder and back casually. He’s out like a light in minutes.

He wakes up and chooses to ignore that he’s already left another set of clothing in your laundry basket.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 1

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You always felt small. Shelves, table, counters, even chairs made your shortcoming, pun intended, more obvious. Even at the one time in your life when you should feel big, you feel even tinier. 

The rounder your stomach becomes, the smaller the rest of your seems. It really doesn't feel like a part of you. That life inside you that has your shirts tighter by the say and the elastic stretching further and further.  

Swollen feet, hands, and chest, and yet you're still just a speck of dust in the wind. The grocery store so often adds to that sensation of insignificance. The cart rattles over the tile as you weave between other shoppers, veering out of the way as others turn corners without looking. Your progress down the list of needs is slower than usual but you're persistent. 

You stop in the bread section and peruse the assortment of rye and sourdough. You've been craving pumpernickel forever. You pick out a loaf and check your list. Bread crumbs... 

You spot your quarry and reach for the highest shelf. Of course it has to be all the way up there. You grunt and teeter on your toes, your goal made hard as your stomach keeps you from getting very close. 

“Allow me, sweetness,” a man says as he comes up behind you. 

You squeak in surprise as he crowds you and reaches up to grab the canister of crumbs. As he does, he presses himself to you, a none-too-subtle grind of his pelvis against your ass. You gasp and elbow him. 

“Ew, get off,” you squeal. 

“Now, now, honey buns, I got it,” he offers the canister, his arm hooking around to show the crumbs, “you just gotta say please.” 

“What the heck? Can you back up--” 

“Now, that’s not very polite, baby girl,” he shakes the crumbs and moves them away from your grasp as you try to snatch them. 

“I said back--” 

Your voice evaporates in shock and horror as he slaps your ass. You clutch the shelf and brace yourself as the force nearly has you crashing into the metal. You set your feet, regretting your choice of squishy and treadless slides, and he snakes his hand under your dress, trailing along the scalloped edge of your panties. 

“Stop,” you wisp, terrified at this man’s brazenness. Why is he doing this? How is no one else seeing this? 

His hand curls around and he stops as he touches your lower stomach. He hesitates and stretches his fingers over your bump. You’re only four-months but far enough that it’s obvious. 

“Shit,” he chortles and pushes his hand down, pressing against the front of your cotton panties, “someone beat me to it, huh?” 

He pokes the fabric between your folds with two fingers, wiggling them around. You shudder and squeeze the edge of the shelves. He creases the cotton between his fingers and pulls it aside. He pinches your thigh and you whimper as he kicks a foot between yours. 

“What--” you gasp and push back against him, trying to escape. “Please--” 

Your voice cracks and something inside you breaks. You can’t move or make a sound. He touches the tuft of hair along your pelvis and delves nakedly between your folds. You hold your breath as he toys with you, rubbing your clit dryly as he pushes his crotch against your back. 

What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you doing anything? Why can’t you? 

He just carries on, rolling your bud under his fingers until you feel yourself react. It’s the hormones, not you. You’re scared, not weak. That’s what’s going on. What is going on? 

All at once, he retracts his hand. He leaves you quivering and wet and to your shame, wanting. He snickers again and tosses the canister so it lands in your cart. You cling to the shelves, legs shaking, and stare at the wrapped loaves in stunned silence. You hear him suck loudly on his fingers and hum. 

“Naughty mommy,” he tisks and struts away.  

You can’t move. You’re paralyzed in disbelief. That didn’t just happen. A stranger just touched you. Like that. And you’re wet. You look down as your knees buckle. 

You manage to move away from the shelves and look around. You can’t pick the man out from the scatter of shoppers puttering around like drones. His sleeve was black but half the men their have black jackets. Your lip trembles as your eyes brim with tears. You don’t know what to do. 

You turn to your cart and grab the handle, rolling it forward. Your eyes fall to the white and yellow canister that rolls across the bottom. You stop and skirt around to reach into the basket, looking around before you bend to fish out the bread crumbs. You place them on the table of croissants nearby and push the cart onward. 

You’ll do grilled instead of fried. You never want to think of what happened again. You hope you never see that man again. Would you even know him at a glance? 

[beansprean]

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A commission from andieandiiandee(@TikTok) based on chapter 14 of “Hounds of Love” by @andiforyou!! ❤️

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Waist up of human Nandor dressed in a chainmail shirt with chest plating, a silver sword dangling from his left ear, a brown leather belt, and a brown leather baldric over his shoulder attached to a real sword at his hip. His hair is half up, twin braids from his temples forming a bun at the crown of his head and held in place by a leather clasp threaded with a stick. He is leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed, and staring offscreen with hooded eyes and a small smile, a pink heart floating by his face. 2. What Nandor is looking at. Waist up of Jeremy and Guillermo from the back as they chat idly, the vague idea of a coat rack in front of them. Jeremy is wearing long white robes. Guillermo, half turned toward Jeremy with a smile as they chat, is making motions to shrug off his puffy winter coat. 3. Extreme closeup of Nandor's eyes as they fly open in shock, cheeks flushing red. 4. Close up of Guillermo in profile, from the bridge of his nose to just below his chest, as he shrugs his coat off to reveal his bare shoulder and arm in a plain black tank top, a golden chain around his neck disappearing into the shirt. His right hand, wearing a leather glove, pulls out a piece of black fabric with a dotted white design. 5. Hips up of Guillermo from Nandor's POV on a glowing pink background, surrounded by golden sparkles, as he drops the coat completely and throws a poncho over his shoulders to complete his outfit. He is paused in motion, eyes downcast, pink mouth pursed, arms raised chest-high as the poncho flutters into place around his shoulders. It is black and translucent, decorated with a silver beadwork pattern of spiderwebs. The end of the poncho hits right at his waist line, edges scalloped like bat wings with silver pearls adorning each peak. Four short makeshift spider legs are sewn to the bottom of his tank top, two on each side. In the background are pink-tinted close ups in Nandorvision: the flex of Guillermo's bicep, the stretch of his fingers beneath the glove, and the roll of his back and stomach beneath the tight tank top as his arms stretch overhead. 6. A pink-tinted Nandorvision fantasy: full body of Nandor and Guillermo in their current outfits as Nandor grabs Guillermo at the waist and dips him, knee pressing forward between his legs and head dipped to mouth at his neck. Guillermo's arms are looped around Nandor's shoulders and he is smiling blissfully, hearts floating around his head, cheeks flushed as he tilts his head to allow Nandor access to his throat. His left leg hitches around Nandor's hip as Nandor's right hand creeps beneath the hem of his tank top. 7. Shoulders up of the real Nandor, staring slackjawed at the visions before him, cheeks flushed red and eyes wide, irises gone pink to reflect where his mind is at. 8. Small corner panel of Nandor, chest up and casting a shadow on a sparkly pink background as he comes back down to earth. He blushes, flustered, and closes his eyes with resignation, thinking to himself: "I'm going to be beating suitors away with a stick..." /end ID

[wildemaven]

Came across this on Pinterest and right away thought of your Night School Teacher Javier - even has the opened shirt collar (yes please)

my place or yours | javier peña

pairing - night school teacher!javier peña x night school teacher f!reader word count - 1276 content warning - 18+ blog; just a lot of fluff, reader is mentioned wearing a dress and a necklace- but zero description features, no y/n, established relationship with in this piece notes - K, as soon as I saw this photo, my mind started buzzing! I’ve been on the fence still about writing these two but I wanted to get this out since it came to me so quickly. Thank you for sharing this!!! masterlist

A heat advisory had been issued in Laredo and the surrounding areas for the last week. Your classroom provided little relief for you and your students earlier in the evening as the central air conditioning for the school had gone out days into the heatwave.

It was a combined effort to alleviate some of the warm stagnant air within the old building. You and Javier propped your classroom doors open, while a few open windows supplied a draft across the hall as the evening sun set and the temperature began to drop to a more bearable degree. 

Day 3 of trying to keep your room cool while teaching had you throwing in the white flag. Your students were all too excited at your suggestion to push their test back to next week and dismiss them, welcoming the weekend a whole hour earlier than usual. You wished them a good evening as they eagerly packed away their belongings, bidding their goodbyes as they left your classroom. 

As you were finishing gathering your books and organized stacks of ungraded papers, movement in your peripheral caught your attention. 

Javier moved about the front of his own classroom, his hands alternating between shuffling through the papers he was holding and pointing out key points he had written out on the blackboard. It was a normal sight for you at this point since he moved into the classroom across the hall. These past few days have opened up ample opportunities for you to catch a glimpse of him lost in teaching without a barrier of doors in the way. 

In this moment, Javier was enough of a distraction to halt any progress you had made in cleaning up for the weekend. His sports coat had been discarded and draped over the back of the wooden chair that was left in an off-kilter manner behind his desk. The dark slacks he wore were a snug fit, accentuating his narrow waist. The appearance of his dress shirt had at some point turned from studious refinement to a very relaxed look— the latter being your favorite if you were being honest. The sleeves rolled and secured higher than their normal appearance, his forearms flexed freely without the restraint of the shirt fabric. His deco scallop patterned necktie had been removed and was laying over his sports coat, allowing for the top unbuttoned portion of his shirt to fall open freely. 

You had fallen into a trance, with your eyes glued to the way his neck tensed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke, you hadn’t realized that you were now standing in the doorway of your classroom. 

Javier’s intuition must have sensed something, his steps faltering a bit as his eyes found yours staring at him from across the hall. The way the corner of his eyes crinkled up slightly and his perfect lopsided grin grew just enough to make his dimple a prominent part of his surprised expression. 

There was a beat of silence as Javier stood there taking you in, almost forgetting his students that sat patiently, filling the rows of rigid desks. His brows narrowed as his brain slowly came to the realization that your class was empty and you were no longer teaching. 

He shot you a wink that caused a sudden fluttering sensation to travel from your lower belly and settle in your chest, before giving his attention back to his class and his form disappearing as he stepped further into the room. 

You shoulder into the doorway, your fingers absentmindedly sliding along the dainty gold chain that hangs from your neck as commotion spills from Javier’s room. 

Student after student exit with books wearing a mixture of gleeful laughter and impassive expressions as they fill the hallway walking in the direction of the nearest parking lot. 

Your attention is directed back to the classroom across from you as the flurry of activity dies down.  

“Hi.” Javier says standing with one hand tucked in his front pocket while the other holds a rather large book containing pages and pages of material he has to cover before the end of the semester. 

“Hi.” You smile at him, as your thumb runs back and forth along the seam of your lips. 

“Not like you to let them out—“ Javier begins to say as he removes his hand from his pocket to inspect the time on his watch, eyebrows raised in surprise. “A whole hour early.” His eyes locked back with yours. 

“Oh stop—  It’s too hot to think. They were groaning and getting restless. Besides, you would have done the same thing if you thought of it first.” 

You watch as he makes his way to you, causing you to turn so your back is now leaning against the door frame when he joins you. 

“I let them go, didn’t I?” He smirks. 

“You did. Any longer and they would have been too distracted to hear anything else you were saying.” Your teeth catch your bottom lip in hopes to contain the smirk that’s slowly forming. 

“How so?” His head ticks to the side, hoping you plan to offer him some sort of explanation. 

Before you say anything, your pointer finger finds its way to the opening of his shirt. Gliding up and down the v-shape then settling at the bottom where the first fastened button rests in the middle of his sternum. 

“You’re very distracting like this. Makes sense why there’s always a mad dash of students fighting over those front row seats every night.” 

“Sounds like you know from experience?” His voice is hushed as he steps closer to you, his free hand resting on your hip, the fabric of your dress bunching under his grip. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your finger hooks into his shirt and you pull him even closer to close the gap between your bodies. “We’re alone.” You whisper against his lips, your hand slipping under his shirt, feeling his dewy skin under your fingertips as you wait for him to make the final move. 

With both classrooms now empty, you’re the only two in this wing of the building. 

It had been a few months since things had become more serious for you and Javier. Still wanting to take things slow, you both kept things under wraps for the time being while on school grounds. But that didn’t mean you didn’t take advantage of moments like this when it was just the two of you. 

Javier’s lips meld with yours, atoning for lost time while silently promising to make up for it the rest of the weekend. There’s a loud clatter as his book falls on the ground. His hands find their way to your face, gently tracing the contours as if trying to reacquaint himself with every feature he loves about you. 

“My place or yours?” You break the kiss before it advances into something more, your breath mingling with his. 

“My place has air conditioning.” 

“But my bed is comfier.” You hinted as you traced lightly over his collarbone. “Cold showers never killed anyone.” 

“Not yet at least.” He bends down to pick up his book, then stands to his full height and kisses you briefly one more time. “Your place tonight, then my place tomorrow after breakfast— before it gets too hot.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

“Lock up and get your stuff, I’ll meet you back here in 5.” He pats your ass playfully as he begins the short walk back to his classroom. 

“You’re trouble, Peña.” You quip over your shoulder to him. 

“Last I checked, you loved it.” He says with a wink and smiles at you. 

“I really do.”

[cmncisspnandmore]

Simon Riley’s been dead before.

He was buried alive to be exact. But he was never part of the plan to fake his own death. Now that he’s standing at the table with the rest of 141 planning out how they’re going to work it out. It hits him like a freight train.

This was need to know. Only task force 141 would know that Simon and Johnny were still alive. And it was starting to leave a sour taste in his mouth.

He could picture it now. Price standing at the door of your shared flat. The moment of realization causing your features to fall. The knowing look you give Price as he asks to step inside.

He can almost hear your broken sob as you fall to the floor, the broken skull plated mask clutched in your hands. Knuckles white from holding it so tight.

He can picture Price crouching down next to you on the floor, as he tries to offer you some comfort. As he feeds you lies about how ‘Ghost died a hero’.

He can imagine the dress you wore to his funeral, the casket empty as they lower it into the hole. He knows which one you’ll pick too. The short black dress with the lace detailing. It falls to your knees, the v neck collar scalloped in little lace skulls that you can only see if you get really close. The metal of his dog tags resting in the valley between your breasts.

His heart aches as he pictures you coming home each night to an empty flat. Always pausing at the hall closet where he stored his duffle bag when he was home. He can picture the way your hands shake when you get to making his side of the bed, trying your best to do military corners like he would.

He can hear your cries behind the bathroom door as if they were his own. The heart wrenching sobs that escape when you least expect it. The kind of tears that cause you to double over and wish you were dead with him because it would be easier than feeling this pain.

Simon’s stomach rolls as he looks around the table at his teammates. Each giving him a small half smile. Price comes around to him, his large hand clasping his shoulder as he looks at him.

“Only for a little while, yeah? Then we’ll get you and Soap back where ya belong.” He promises, and he does. 6 months, 3 days and 14 hours after he gave you the news that Simon was dead, Price knocked on the door of your flat once more.

But this time, it was the shadow of the man behind him that caused you to collapse to the floor. This time it was Simon who held you in his arms and rocked you back and forth on the tile floor of the kitchen for hours as you struggled to make sense of what you were seeing.

The next time you wore a black dress it wasn’t to a funeral but to Soap’s wedding, where he had helped Simon plan his own proposal.

Now when you paused at the hall closet where his duffle bag was kept. It wasn’t for the fear of being reminded he was gone. It was to laugh at the memories of Simon pressing you against the door, promising that there wouldn’t be any sad memories left in its wake.

The next time Simon heard sobbing from behind the bathroom door, they weren’t tears of pain and sorrow. But tears of hope and the promise of new life when the tests came back positive.

Simon Riley had been dead twice before. But with you in his life, he never felt more alive.

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 10

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol, semi public make out sessions, smut, threesome, fingering, oral, face sitting. Once y'all read this hopefully you'll see why it took 2 weeks to get done, a whopping almost 7k words. woof. im planning on starting the next chapter asap and focusing on this series as it is about to pick up and a shift is coming so that tends to keep my brain more into writing. Happy Friday! <3

After spending a handful of weeks exploring luxury hotels around the Washington area, Emily had sent you a text asking which one you liked the best. She had come to the conclusion that she wanted to put down a standing reservation at one location rather than continue to hop around across the city. You spent a bit of time reflecting on your experiences and finally replied with your favourite three, the Waldorf being at the utmost top. She couldn’t help but let out a laugh, one that was of slight relief as she had the exact opinions. It was just far enough away from her place to feel like a mini vacation, but still close enough to not be a hassle of a drive, the amenities were stellar, with the best food and late night menus. It didn’t hurt that it was the hotel the bureau usually held their big galas, meaning it would be more than easy enough to sneak away at any of those, or to simply have you waiting for her when she was done.

Overall, it just made things easier to have the standing reservation, you both had key cards and were graciously welcomed by concierge anytime throughout the week when you swung by. You were both able to come and go as you please instead of having to wait in the lobby or hotel bar for the other to arrive. While Emily was happy to leave things in the suite over the weekend, she was still a little bit apprehensive of leaving certain things when neither of you were there and her worries were solidified when you ran through a list of things that Heather would never leave in her suite. It may be permanently booked out, but it was a hotel, no matter how much the price tag was you never knew who else could have access. Like Emily had said earlier, a Benjamin could get you into a lot of places privately that you weren’t supposed to be in.

When the weekend finally rolled around, both of you were more than ready to indulge, barely able to keep your hands off each other Friday night, just when you thought one round was finally done it simply melted into another. Emily caught herself up in some work Saturday morning but chose to hand you a credit card and told you to go have some fun and you took the day to shop. She was rewarded that evening when you were getting ready, catching a glimpse of some very lacy lingerie before you slipped into your dress, scolding her in a teasing manner for spying.

You were sat at a semi secluded corner booth at the hotel lounge where you shared a mushroom and black truffle flatbread, scallops and a plate of oysters. Cocktails were easily flowing, with no concern of how many refills were had considering you were only planning on walking to the elevator. Not that you weren’t pacing yourselves, but there was more of a sense of letting loose this time. It was almost a celebratory evening, the bill you’d been busting your ass for, for Heather had successfully made it through two rounds of voting, and the BAU had finally caught their nationwide killer, finally leaving time for more hours at the home office.

“You know,” Emily began, her hand resting on your bare thigh, fingers tickling at your skin, “I really have to say thank you for getting Bailey off my back.”

“I take it the date went well?” You asked, leaning into her touch.

“I thought you would know?” She raised a brow and you laughed.

“I haven’t heard from the girl in three weeks.”

“Well it does certainly appear that things worked out in our favour.” She replied, leaning in close enough to steal a kiss.

“Good.” You murmured, pressing your lips to hers once more before leaning away to pick up your drink.

“Between that and catching our unsub I feel like my workload has been cut in half.” She sighed happily, sipping at her cocktail, “I don’t have to nitpick through every piece of paperwork and worry about having to redo it all after Bailey sees it. He’s actually leaving the office at clock out time and not hassling me on the weekends. It’s practically heaven.”

“Now if only you would leave the office at a reasonable time.” You teased and she laughed, a hand reaching up to play with the hair at the back of your neck, guiding you back toward her.

“That’s bold coming from someone who was still working past midnight three times this week.” Her lips brushed against yours as she spoke, yours curving up into a grin before you closed the gap and kissed her, lips moving with grace together.

“Late nights mean I get to go in late the next day.”

“Yeah?” She raised a brow, her face only inches from yours, “and how late is that?”

“Ten,” you laughed, “maybe noon if I’m lucky.”

“She works you too hard.” Emily commented with a slight frown before kissing you and you chuckled into the kiss.

“And you work yourself too hard.” Your hand found her leg, gently squeezing at her thigh, managing to get one last peck in before Emily huffed. The playful eyeroll pulled a laugh from you, she knew you were right, she couldn’t exactly clock you for something that she was way worse at.

“I guess you’ve got me there.” She replied with a small laugh and you squeezed at her leg again.

“I’m pretty sure the saying is ‘work hard, play hard’ so as long as you’re keeping a healthy balance.” You suggested with a smirk and she grinned across at you.

“It’s not like I keep you around for nothing.”

“Though, considering how much work you’ve been doing, maybe I need to up my end of the bargain.”

“Yeah?” She raised a brow, “and what exactly have you got in mind?”

Before you could figure out a full answer, the server swung by to offer another round of drinks. The two of you briefly glanced at each other before selecting a new cocktail off the menu to try. After all, this weekend really was about having some extra levels of fun.

There was a new sense of electricity in the air tonight, it was difficult to keep your hands off each other even out in the eye of the hotel lounge. Though the crowd was dwindling with each hour that passed and it wasn’t long before your server was making a round past the table, mentioning that it was last call, wondering if you wanted another round to take to your room with you or if you just wanted to settle up. The two of you immediately glanced around, realizing you were the last two people in the lounge before apologizing and saying you would settle, Emily making sure to add a more than generous tip.

Her hand caught yours as you stepped into the lobby, your fingers linking together as she let out an almost whiney sigh.

“What?” You asked, turning back to her with a laugh.

“I dunno, it just feels too early to turn in.” She replied with a frown and you glanced at your watch.

“It’s barely two…” you murmured before glancing up at her with a sparkle in your eye,” I know a few places that would still be open.”

“And still serving by the time we get there?” She asked with a small laugh.

“They let people in ‘til three, serve ‘til four thirty, even later on long weekends. Think of it as an…after hours club.”

“The kind of after hours club that promotes fraternizing?”

You chuckled softly, tugging Emily closer to you to steal a kiss, “stop thinking like a fucking fed, it’s nothing illegal. Just people socializing, having fun, making new friends, having some drinks, no drugs, scouts honour. Prestigious enough you need a membership to get in. We don’t have to go,” you shrugged, “I’m sure if we just go upstairs I can entertain you until you’re tired, you just seemed a little extra feisty tonight.”

“Speak for yourself.” She laughed back.

“So should I call a car?” You asked, your brow raised while you watched her think it over.

“Fuck it. It’s about time to have some fun and let loose.”

“That’s what I thought.” You grinned, pulling your phone from your purse to make the call.

Emily wasn’t surprised when a Dunbar car was out front of the hotel mere moments later and you spewed off a cross street to the driver who gave a knowing hum before peeling off down the street. Even in the back of the car it was nearly impossible to keep your hands off each other, your hand quickly finding her clothed thigh before hers was inching up your bare one, daring to sneak under the hem of your dress. She was certain the divider was going to have to be lifted but you were suddenly pulling into a strip mall parking lot.

“This it?” She asked, her brow furrowing.

“Best way to keep a secret, isn’t it?” You replied, a grin on your lips as you leant in to kiss the corner of her mouth, “don’t be freaked when they ID you, they’re just making sure everyone inside is safe. And if you see the President or his wife… no you didn’t.” You slunk out of the car after that, leaving Emily wide eyed before she quickly followed after you, thanking the driver before the door shut behind her.

Your hand found hers as you wandered up to the seemingly closed front door, rapping against it before it swung open and you were let inside. Just as you’d warned her, both of you had your ID’s scanned before you slid your membership card across the counter and the attendant welcomed you with a warm smile and the curtain concealing the next set of doors was opened.

It was darker than Emily had expected, coloured lights shining through the rooms, changing their patterns and pathways sporadically, not particularly strobes, but enough to keep the darkness a mystery. The walls were lined with semi circle booths, tables scattered throughout the open space with a large bar in the middle, it appeared there was a VIP area in a little loft area and she could see heavy strobe lights coming from down a short flight of stairs where the main dance floor was and a longer dark hallway that either led to staff areas or something she wasn’t sure she wanted to think about. The music was loud, bass strumming through the space, reminiscent of her days spent in various clubs around the world. She started to wonder if it was her age showing that was making her think it was entirely too loud or too many years of excessive headphone use coupled with field work damaging her ears when your hand darted out, reaching into a fishbowl on the end of the bar. Her heart leapt into her throat, for a second thinking that you’d either dumped your keys or picked up god knows what before you turned to her with a pack of earplugs between your fingers.

“They keep it abnormally loud in here.” You shouted over the music before leaning in so close your lips were brushing against her ear, “harder to eavesdrop on secrets when you’ve got to be this close.”

She laughed with a nod, opening the packet to put the earplugs in as you did the same, following you up to the bar. With the plugs in the heaviness of the bass was muffled, but she could still hear you clearly, hear herself think rather than be completely clouded by the noise. A couple of cocktails later and you were nestled into one of the smaller curved booths, Emily’s hand once again finding a home on your thigh, fingertips tickling at your skin.

Between the volume and it being her first time there, the first little bit at the club was spent doing the best people watching you could in low light and relaxing, embracing the vibe and the atmosphere. Every so often one of you would lean in to say something, earning a laugh from the other, a more private moment to steal a kiss or make a comment about someone eying their prospective date for the night. Cocktails were replenished without even having to ask, the perfect balance of fruity and strong, though you both knew those were the dangerous kind, you may not be tasting the alcohol tonight, but you’d likely be feeling it tomorrow. But in the moment, it didn’t matter, you were simply enjoying the different environment, feeling frisky and not having to worry at all about watching eyes. Emily felt more free relaxed and uninhibited that she had in years and she was fully enjoying it.

“How did you find out about this place?” She asked, her head ducked toward yours.

“Heather.” You took a sip of your drink, “and before you ask, it’s about a sixty-forty split business-pleasure for her depending on the day. I don’t come too often, it’s not really my style, plus some of the governor’s aides really don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. Doesn’t matter if you were actually talking deals, the next time they see you in the hallway it’s all smarmy grins and waggly eyebrows as if you’d taken them into the back room or something.”

“For a place with so many politicians I’m surprised you haven’t seen anyone tonight.” Emily mused and you laughed.

“Em, please, I’ve clocked at least eight people I know between the door and the bar. But since it’s just all about discretion, no one will approach unless they’re interested,” your finger tapped the bottom of her chin, your breath hot on her lips when you spoke next, “especially when I came in with someone.”

Your lips hit Emily’s with ease and she let herself relax into the kiss, her tongue easily sinking into your mouth, the sweetness of your cocktails swirling around your mouth. You shifted on your seat, a hand sliding up the side of her neck to tangle into her hair and the hand she had on your thigh slipped under the hem of your dress. You let out a soft moan into the kiss, your leg nearly draping over Emily’s knee as her hand slunk higher, finger tips daring to trace patterns on your bare skin and you retaliated by nipping at her lower lip.

“Certainly are feeling frisky tonight, aren’t you?” You asked with a tease and she playfully rolled her eyes at you before leaving a kiss on the side of your neck.

Your hand remained at the back of her head, tickling at her neck, gently playing with her hair while you fell back into the mix of small talk and observing the club. The next time you got your cocktails refilled, the server dropped them off along with two shots of top shelf tequila and a folded cocktail napkin with a pain tucked into it. Emily raised her brow in their direction, watching as your eyes flicked from the napkin out into the bar, surveying the room.

“Let me guess…” you asked, your elbow resting on the table, your chin propped in your hand, “brunette at the end of the bar?”

The server nodded with a small laugh, swiping the empty cocktail glasses from the table and wandering back through the room. Your free hand was still toying with Emily’s hair as she leant in,

“Jackie, right?”

“Mmmhmm.” You replied, turning to her to brush your lips against hers, “looks like we caught someone’s eye.” You slid the tequila shot toward her, “you ever had a threesome?”

“Not in about thirty years.” She chuckled, watching the way your head tilted, the sparkle in your eye as you picked up your tequila shot.

“Intrigued?” You asked, watching as Emily’s eyes finally left yours, looking across the club to Jackie. Her gaze flicked up and down the other woman’s body, taking in the smirk of her lips over the rim of her martini glass, a similar shot of tequila waiting in font of her. She turned back to you, a small grin breaking out on her own lips,

“Very.”

“Thought you might be.”

Looking over toward the bar you raised your shot glass, Emily doing the same beside you and you nearly laughed at the excitement that flashed over Jackie’s face as she raised her own before all three of you shot the liquor back. Glassware slid to the edge of the table you picked up the pen, scrawling your hotel name and room number across the inside of the napkin, folding it and placing it beside the empty shots before grabbing your phone. A moment later the server was back, collecting all of the items and bidding you a goodnight.

“Don’t we have to pay?” Emily asked and you laughed softly, pinching at her chin to steal a kiss.

“It’s charged to the membership card and there’s an auto grat, don’t worry. Now c’mon.”

*

Introductions were made, flirty small talk was had as hefty glasses of bubbly were handed out, the three of you all surveying the vibes in the room as you got more comfortable with each other. You didn’t shy away from physical contact, your hand lingering on the small of Emily’s back when she moved passed you first, then your fingers loosely wrapping around Jackie’s wrist as you complimented a bracelet. You were the invisible string between the two of them, the one making sure everyone was comfortable and understood the situation and dynamics that were to come with it.

Jackie watched out of the corner of her eye as you murmured something to Emily, your finger curling under her chin before you kissed her. Rather that intruding on the moment she redirected her gaze out the large window over looking the city, the Washington Monument alit in the night sky.

“It’s quite a view you’ve got up here.” She commented, pulling a soft laugh from Emily.

“What can I say?” She replied, smoothing back a piece of your hair as Jackie turned back to face you, “pretty girls deserve to look at pretty things.”

“They certainly do.” The dark haired woman smiled, closing the distance between the three of you as she moved through the room. “You know, I am curious…what is the dynamic between the two of you?” She glanced to Emily, “because you simply exude power and control, but this one..” Her finger tilted towards you, “has been known to put up a fight occasionally.”

Emily laughed, her hand sliding across your lower back, “luckily that’s not something I’ve had to worry about.” She pressed a kiss to your cheek that you leant into before raising an eyebrow at Jackie.

“Funny it should matter to you at all considering it’s a known fact you’re a bit of a pillow princess.”

Jackie’s lips twitched up into a grin as Emily hummed beside you, “huh… just here to get fucked, are you?”

“Oh I’m sure she’ll participate.” You replied, glancing toward Emily before stepping closer to the other woman, “she likes to earn her fucking, isn’t that right?” Your finger tapped Jackie’s nose, “looking all pretty down on your knees, just absolutely begging for it.”

A slight flush took over her cheeks as her eyes darkened, “so you have been listening.”

Emily’s hand slid up your back, fingers almost tangling into the roots of your hair as she stepped ahead of you, her free hand raising to tap Jackie’s chin, “don’t worry, you’ll both get what you deserve. But right now I do think there’s a little bit too much clothing involved, head to the bed and get things started.”

A small nod from both of you before Jackie’s hand was tangled with yours and you were tugging her toward the bed. Her hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you to her for a kiss, lips moving frantically against yours as you backed the rest of the way to the bed. She whined into the kiss when you nipped at her lip before sliding your tongue into her mouth and the whine drowned into a moan. Your hands slid around her shoulders, pushing down the straps of her dress, fingers finding the zipper on the back and tugging it down. The fabric loosely fell around her shoulders, the desire to keep her hands on you too strong to let it fall to the floor quite yet.

Jackie’s hands gripped at your waist, backing you the final couple of steps before your knees hit the bed and they began to wander your body. She eagerly groped at your chest, lips curving up into a grin at the soft moan you let out into the kiss. Her fingers pinched at your nipples through your dress, continuing to toy with you as your hands grabbed her hips, rolling your own against her. Satisfied that your moans had began to morph into whines one of Jackie’s hands wrapped around you, quickly pulling down the zipper of your dress and shoving it down your body. She pulled away from the kiss just far enough for her eyes to flick down, a smirk taking over her lips.

“I just knew you’d be the type to dress up for the occasion.” She murmured, her fingers toying with the lace, “such a pretty set.”

“Guarantee you it looks better on the floor.” You husked back, arms reaching behind you to undo the bra, letting it fall to the ground as you stepped out of your dress and dropped back onto the bed.

You heard Emily huff out a laugh from the corner of the suite but your eyes were on Jackie as she shimmied out of her dress and crawled over you on the bed, your head dropping back into the pillows a moment later when her mouth wrapped around your nipple. Your own hands wandered her body, pinching at her nipples, toying with the waistband of her barely there panties while she continued to suck, bite and pinch at your chest. She moaned against your skin when you palmed at her cunt, her hips grinding down into the touch, just barely starting to rock in a rhythm against your hand.

“Certainly are eager… aren’t we?” Emily’s voice broke into your thoughts and your eyes flickered open, your breath catching in your throat when you realized she was at the base of the bed, stripped down except for the strap. Your hand tangled into Jackie’s hair, pulling her off you, breathlessly stealing a kiss as you sat up and nudged her toward the end of the bed.

“I think it’s time for you to prove what a good girl you are and get on your knees for Emily.”

“That’s it angel…” Emily purred as Jackie crawled off the bed, “get my cock nice and wet.”

“Yes ma’am.” The brunette murmured, settling on her knees in front of the other woman.

She parted her lips, her tongue licking Emily from base to tip before wrapping around the silicone and sinking down inch by inch until she was completely buried in her mouth. Jackie began a steady pace, bobbing on Emily’s cock and the older woman’s hand gently wrapped into her hair.

“Good girl.”

Jackie hummed around her cock, the tip hitting the back of her throat as she gagged, saliva pooling in her mouth as she continued. Emily’s hips rocked toward her, sinking her cock deeper into her mouth as her eyes flicked up to you.

“If you’re just going to take in the show you should probably play with that pretty little pussy.”

Your cheeks heated, a blush shooting through you as if you had just been caught staring at something you weren’t allowed to see and you eagerly nodded at Emily. Adjusting on the bed so you were resting against the headboard you yanked your panties down your legs to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Emily’s fingers tightened in Jackie’s hair, pulling her off her cock with a gasp and turning her head toward the bed,

“She’s got such a pretty pussy, doesn’t she?” She asked and Jackie nodded.

“Oh, fuck yes…”

“Spread your legs princess, let her see that gorgeous cunt.”

You did as asked, your legs spread wide as your hand slunk down your body, settling between your legs where two of your fingers spread your pussy lips apart for the two of them to get a better view. Jackie let out a needy squeak, sitting further up on her knees so she could rub her thighs together and Emily didn’t let the motion go unnoticed.

“You’re allowed to touch yourself.” She cooed, dropping her hair so she could caress her cheek, pinching at her chin to redirect Jackie’s eyes back to hers, “get yourself nice and messy while you suck my cock.”

Emily’s eyes were immediately redirected back to you as you let out a low moan, two fingers sinking into your cunt as you began to lazily finger yourself. A moment later and she felt the base of the toy brush against her clit and she let out a breathy sigh, Jackie’s lips wrapped around her length yet again. The pace Jackie sucked her off matched the rhythm she was bouncing on her own fingers, with more urgency than you were fucking yourself, eager to both prove herself and get as close to her peak as she could. She began to moan around Emily, muffled and needy, drool beginning to pool in the corners of her mouth, droplets dripping down her chin while the sounds of your wetness echoed through the room. Emily groaned at the sights, her hand tugging Jackie’s hair again and the woman let the toy drop from her mouth with a gasp.

“Good girl.” Emily praised, gesturing for her to stand. As she did, Emily’s hand closed around her wrist, pulling the fingers slicked with juices to her mouth and Jackie watched with wide eyes as Emily sucked them clean. “So sweet.” She spanked at her hip, “up on the bed, you’ve earned a reward.”

Climbing onto the bed, Jackie grinned, her hands soothing up your legs, spreading them even further apart, watching the way you fingered yourself.

“Such a gorgeous cunt.” She murmured, ducking down to nip at your inner leg and you chuckled, sliding your fingers out as you shifted on the bed.

“Pretty sure you already proved yourself babe.” Pinching at her chin you pulled her to you for a kiss before glancing over her shoulder at Emily who tilted her head at you.

“C’mere.” Once you were at the foot of the bed she grasped your hips, pinching gently, nodding towards Jackie, “take care of her, but you don’t get to come yet.”

“Of course.” You nodded, smiling sweetly and she chuckled.

“Then flip over.”

It wasn’t a command as much as a warning as Emily was the one who flipped you over onto your stomach, landing with a soft oof as you adjusted yourself, legs dangling off the bed, feet braced on the floor. Smiling, Jackie crawled back closer to you, fingertips drawing patterns across your back,

“Bet you just make the prettiest sounds while you’re getting fucked, don’t you?”

Emily took the cue, the head of her spit slicked cock nudging at your entrance and you let out a whine, pulling a teasing laugh from both of the other women. In one heavy thrust, Emily’s cock was buried in your pussy and you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut until her hand spanked the curve of your ass.

“Go ahead, get her off. You’re just keeping me warm.”

With the tiniest of grumbles, your hands scrambled for Jackie’s hips, yanking her toward you and she was quick to flip onto her back, sliding half underneath you with widespread legs so her pussy was perfectly aligned with your mouth. Emily’s hands on your hips squeezed, nudging you even closer to her and the movement shifted her cock inside you, your pussy fluttering around the toy, clouding your brain just in the slightest.

Doing your best to focus your hands trailed up Jackie’s thighs, thumbs pressing against her pussy as they ran up it, spreading her lips open for you before briefly rubbing over her clit and her head fell back onto the mattress. Your tongue then followed the path your thumbs had just made, swiping through her cunt slowly, lapping up the juices already dribbling out, a small groan leaving your lips at her taste. The tip of your tongue flicked against her throbbing clit and she gasped.

“Oh fuck!” One of Jackie’s hands shot to your head, tangling into your hair as her hips began to grind against your mouth.

Your lips wrapped around her lower ones, moaning and groaning into her pussy, vibrations shooting through her, bringing her pleasure pulsing more south with each move of your mouth. Your tongue dipped into her, swirling the best you could before licking through her again, pressing harder and moving faster with each pass of your tongue.

“More…” she whined, her nails scratching at your scalp and your mouth moved up, sucking her clit into your mouth. “Fuck! Yes! Right there.”

As your lips wrapped around her throbbing nub, your tongue danced patterns across it with varying speed and pressure. Jackie’s noises became louder with each lick, her lip tugged into her mouth to help muffle the sounds. Behind you, Emily, proud of the work you were putting in slowly circled her hips, causing the toy buried inside you to move just enough to get you moaning against Jackie’s clit, pulling even more noise from the dark haired woman. Just as she was about to start begging for more, two of your fingers pressed into her opening, rubbing softly, just enough to be more than a tease and give her what she wanted.

“Oh my god…” she sighed, hips rocking down to the touch.

“That feel good sweetheart?” Emily asked her, leaning over you just enough to pinch at Jackie’s thigh, “you like it when she eats your cunt?”

“Fuck yes.” She moaned in response.

Your fingers slid in and she gasped, her back arching off the bed as your tongue pressed harder against her clit and you began to fuck her. Your fingers twirled, twisted and scissoring around in her cunt, stretching her out, teasing her just enough to have her a whining mess against the bed before your hand began to pump back and fourth. You crooked your fingers just enough and she swore, a near cry leaving her throat.

“Fuck! Right there.”

You pressed against the spot again and her thighs trembled around you and you knew she was close. A heavy groan from you muffled against her cunt as Emily circled her hips again, her cock dragging against your walls as she pinched at your hips. Your mouth popped off her with a gasp of breath as you thrust your fingers into her faster, curling with each pump and your free hand rubbed her clit.

“I know you’re close sweetheart.” You pressed down on her clit harder, “come for me.”

Ducking your mouth back down you replaced your hand with it, sucking her clit hard into your mouth as your fingers pushed into the sensitive spot in her drenched cunt. A few more pumps of your hand and Jackie was crying out, her back arching off the bed as her body tensed, orgasm rocking through her. You let up with your mouth, leaving a gentle kiss just above her clit as your fingers slowed.

“So good for us.” You purred, kissing across her thighs, “so pretty when you come.”

Your fingers slipped from her and you crawled back onto the bed, letting out a low whine when Emily’s cock slipped from your cunt. You trailed kisses up Jackie’s body while she caught her breath, finally landing with one on her lips.

“Holy fuck.” She muttered, still panting.

“Such a good girl.” You cooed, leaning down to nip at her neck, “now… are you finished or do you think you can go for on more?”

“More.” She pouted a whine leaving her lips and you chuckled.

“Yeah?” Sitting up you glanced over your shoulder to where Emily was slowly rubbing up and down the toy, “you want her cock?”

“Mmhmm.” Jackie scrambled to her knees, her eyes wide and pleading.

“Want Emily to fill up that tasty fucking pussy of yours?”

“Fuck. Please.” She looked between the two of you, eyes darting down to Emily’s cock coated in your juices, “please oh god, I need it.”

Emily chuckled, crooking two fingers at the other woman, “you can have it. But you don’t get to come until you’ve made her come, understood?”

“Yes.” Jackie practically pounced down to the end of the bed, sprawling out on her back and spreading her legs wide for Emily, her pussy still dripping with wetness.

You watched as Emily slid the tip of the toy through her folds, smearing her wetness with your remaining juices, teasing her just enough so that Jackie was out of breath again.

“Well?” she glanced from her cock up to Jackie’s face and over to you and the other woman’s hands scrambled to your waist, tugging you to her as Emily yanked her to the edge of the bed and sunk her cock into her.

Jackie let out a low moan, nearly forgetting the task at hand at the sensation of being full and stretched before her head rolled towards you, “sit on my face.”

You didn’t waste any time, quickly straddling her head and a second later her hands were clawing at your waist, tugging you right down onto her face, her tongue lapping at your pussy. Behind you, Emily set a steady pace, her hips thrusting into Jackie with precision and skill, watching at the way you started to grind down onto her face. As much as you had wanted to watch Jackie come undone on the other woman’s cock you were utterly lost in your own world as she started to eat you out, your pussy throbbing around nothing as pleasure began to shoot through you.

“Oh my god…” you groaned, your head falling back as you hands began to wander you own body, aching for something to latch onto as Jackie’s lips wrapped around your clit. “Fuck!”

Each time Emily circled her hips, or began to toy with the other woman’s clit, Jackie’s moans got louder and longer, vibrating right into your cunt. Her nose would brush against your clit, rubbing at it as her tongue explored as much of your dripping pussy as she could. Your hands pinched at your nipples, rolling them between your fingers as you rode her face, matching the pace that Emily was fucking her. Jackie’s tongue flicked at your clit again and you gasped.

“Fuck.”

“That’s it.” Emily husked from behind you, thrusting harder into her, “she likes that, keep going.”

Jackie’s mouth latched around your clit and you shuddered, your thighs trembling around her head and you could almost feel her lips curving up into a smirk. Her hand snuck between your legs, sinking two fingers into you, curling immediately and you moaned, this one louder than the last.

“Keep that up and you’ll make her come.” Emily urged, and Jackie didn’t waste a single second.

Her tongue pressed harder, dancing its patterns faster as her hand began to move quicker, her free hand gripped your waist so tight you knew there would be marks tomorrow. She pulled you down so tight onto her face if you’d been thinking straight you would have been worried about suffocating her but all you could think about was the way your pussy was clenching around her fingers, how her hot mouth felt on your cunt and the noises of Emily fucking her harder and faster with each time you ground down onto her face.

“Oh my god…oh my god…” you weren’t sure how much longer you were going to be able to stay upright, your hips jolting as pleasure soared through your body.  Your hands scrambled to catch yourself on the mattress, clawing at the bedspread as Jackie continued to hold you down, her fingers fucking into you faster as what you thought was your oncoming orgasm suddenly resurged up again, building even higher and hotter under your skin until she sucked on your clit again and you cried out, thighs shaking around her head.

Your entire body shuddering you were finally able to break free from her grasp, collapsing down onto the bed beside her with your chest heaving as she panted, a sly grin on her lips as she was more than satisfied with her work.

“That’s it sweet girl.” Emily praised, her hands soothing up Jackie’s thighs as the other woman was able to fully focus on her pleasure.

“Fuck…harder… please.”

Emily’s hips rocked forward, a particularly sharp thrust that had Jackie gasping for air and you chuckled softly, rolling onto your stomach to cage her into the bed. Your lips caught hers, tongue dipping into her mouth to suck your own juices off her tongue, swallowing down each others moans. Giving her a chance to breathe, your mouth made its way down her neck, sucking and biting into the crook of it while she let out more noises.

“God,” Emily groaned, “you look so fucking good taking my cock. Such a pretty girl.”

Jackie could do nothing but whine in response, her senses on fire at the multiple touches against her skin. Your free hand quickly sunk between her legs, beginning to play with her clit in the same speed Emily was fucking her, alternating between pressing hard or rubbing softly.

“Can feel you trembling baby.” You murmured into her neck before biting down hard and she groaned, her hips launching up off the bed. “You gonna come for us? Let us see how fucking hot you look?”

“Fuck.” She muttered, “s-close.”

“Mmhmm.” Your tongue swiped at the already darkening mark on her skin before sucking at it again and she whimpered.

Emily’s hand was suddenly on top of yours, pressing down even harder against Jackie’s clit, urging you to rub faster and she circled her hips again. The small circle along with the combined pressure of both of your hands was all it took for Jackie to be crying out, her body shaking as it jolted off the bed and she hit her peak. Your hand softly trailed up her body as you gently kissed across her skin, finger tips drawing patterns while she panted.

“That’s it…” you cooed, “so good for us.”

“Such a pretty girl.” Emily murmured, her hips slowing and she fully sunk into Jackie one last time, holding there for a moment, “takes it so well even from two at once.”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, placing a gentle kiss on her collarbone, “kinda gives me ideas.”

“Really?” Jackie asked breathlessly, her eyes cracking open, a small smirk on her lips.

“Ones I just know you’d like.” You teased, leaning over her with a grin and when Emily pulled out you capture her lips in a kiss, muffling the whine.

Emily disappeared into the bathroom for a minute, no doubt cleaning off the toy leaving it to dry and freshening up, coming back a few moments later wrapped in a fuzzy robe. Opening the mini fridge she picked out a few bottles of water, passing them over to you to take a few sips.

“Christ…” Jackie muttered with a small laugh, “that was not how I expected my night to end.”

“Not expected maybe, but it was what you were hoping for.” You laughed back.

“I told myself I would stay for one drink, just happened to be a lucky one.” She retorted, “I was there for business. Speaking of,” lifting her wrist to check her watch she let out a sigh, pushing up to sitting, “I’ve got an early meeting, I need to get going.” Slipping off the bed, she quickly redressed herself, scooping up her purse before leaning over the bed, leaving a kiss on your lips, “I’ll see you.”

“Mmhm.”

Crossing to Emily she left a kiss on her cheek, “thanks. Here’s hoping to running into you again.”

“Only time will tell.” She smirked, watching as the other woman vanished from the hotel room.

You let out a sigh, finally sitting up from the bed, groaning as you stretched out your body before disappearing into the bathroom. In the short time it took you to freshen up, remove your make up and brush your teeth Emily had ridden herself of the robe, opting to slip under the sheets naked instead. She was about to pick up the remote when you spoke,

“You know… something doesn’t totally feel fair.” You stated as you climbed back into the bed.

“What? That she just gets to leave?”

“No.” You laughed and she caught the devilish gleam in your eye, “you didn’t get come…”

Your hands were on her hips before she even realized it, letting out a quiet shriek as you flipped her onto her back with a wicked grin on your lips. Though there was no time to even think about protesting, your mouth and hands were on her before she could even think, eagerly and very energetically repaying her for all of the pleasure she’d given out that night.

____________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @just-moondust @ms-downhill @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @doragoy

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter eight.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: people i don't like - upsahl

author's note: moving it along. can't believe that there's only five more chapters left. this series has been my baby so i'm like in shambles as the end comes closer, but also excited.

The night of the dinner was finally upon you and the amalgamation of dread, trepidation, and wrath clouded over you like a malevolent fog. You weren’t looking forward to it, but you knew that Theo was right. If sitting through one lousy dinner secured a spot with the M.E.S.P, then you would begrudgingly grin and bear it. 

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to face it alone. As Luna promised, Harry was waiting for you outside of Professor Slughorn’s office. Harry was dressed in a button down and a dark blazer paired with freshly pressed trousers. Despite his smart attire, his signature messy, black hair and slightly skewed glasses softened his appearance. 

Harry smiled, raising his hand in a slight wave. “Hi, Y/N. You look lovely.” 

You smoothed the front of your dress, which Pansy had helped you pick out. The fabric was sleek and silky and as dark as night. The front was simple, but the back dipped low and revealed more skin than you were used to. It was completely out of your comfort zone, but Pansy had insisted that you were meant to wear the dress.

“Thanks, Harry. So do you.” You stood up straighter, balancing on your impossibly tall heels—another Parkinson addition, before rolling your shoulders back. “Shall we?” 

The inside of Professor Slughorn’s office had been transformed into an entirely different space. Velvet curtains hung from the ceiling and covered the marble columns like tapestry. A round mahogany table sat in the middle of the room and sat upon it were fresh fruits, expensive cheese, and cold cuts. The plates were set in a circular formation and each one contained a placard with a different student’s name. 

You took your place, quietly settling in between Harry and a Hufflepuff girl—Melissa? No, Melinda. You remembered that her family owned a large chain of apothecaries. 

As you glanced around the table, you realized that while there were at least two or three members from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, there was only one Slytherin in the midst. You weren’t that familiar with Cassius Warrington, but you knew that he was currently being pursued by the Chudley Cannons, which was plenty of incentive for Slughorn to invite him into the mix. 

You were well aware that the presence of each student was contingent on the benefits they could help provide Slughorn and vice versa. After all, that was the purpose of the slug club, but facing it head on still made your stomach roil. You barely touched the filet mignon and scalloped potatoes for fear of retching it all back up. The conversations happening around you made it impossible to eat.

It was just endless prattling and bragging on and on about connections and achievements, much to Slughorn’s delight. The superficiality of it all made you nauseous. When McLaggen name dropped his influential uncle for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you nearly pulled your hair out. You watched with a grimace as he lapped up his soup with tiny licks, sort of like a lizard toying with a fly. 

Out of instinct, you turned to your right to snicker with Theo only to remember that he wasn’t there, which put you in a foul mood all over again. 

“He does love to prattle on, doesn’t he?” Harry muttered in a low voice. 

You nodded. “I imagine he only speaks to hear the sound of his own voice.” 

“I take it that you’re enjoying this as much as I am.” 

“If by enjoying you mean considering pulling my eyelashes out one by one, then you would be correct, Potter.” 

“Forget the eyelashes. I might pluck my own eyes out all together if I hear McLaggen say my uncle Tiberius one more time.” 

You snorted. “If you’re as miserable as I am, then what are you doing here?” 

He shrugged. “People expect me to be here. To go on as normal. It’s important to have some semblance of that after last year, I suppose.” 

You nodded sympathetically. Everyone looked up to Harry. He was a hero, a practical living legend, the boy who lived not once but twice. You imagined carrying all of that pressure on his shoulders couldn’t have been easy. 

“What about you? You’re obviously not enjoying yourself, so why subject yourself to all of this?” 

“I want to become a potioneer after I graduate. Slughorn is an influential member of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, which means he’s my key to getting accepted so while this dinner is physically and mentally draining all of my energy, I don’t have much of a choice. Being the first muggleborn member of the society would be monumental. Not just for me, but for other witches in the future."

“I understand,” Harry said with a nod. “You know, Mione’s probably going to be the first muggleborn witch to become Minister of Magic.” 

You smiled. While you two weren’t close by any means, you have always admired Hermione. Her academic achievements were the cause of your envy for many years, but after all that she had gone through, you stopped feeling that stab of jealousy. 

“The wizarding world would be lucky to have Granger leading it,” you agreed. “Which reminds me, why isn’t she here tonight?” 

“She declined the invitation. As did Ron.” 

“I can’t blame them. I half expected you to do so as well. The three of you have done enough to last a lifetime.” 

“Yes, but like I said. It’s important for me to participate in these things. To boost morale, or so I’ve been told.” 

It was fascinating to you that Harry could joke about such things. If you had battled the darkest wizard of all time and lived to tell the tale, you would probably tell everyone to kindly fuck off forever, but you suppose that was the reason why Harry was the chosen one and not you. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re still fighting?” you asked. “Voldemort and his followers are either dead or imprisoned, yes. But we’re still rooting out their ideologies to this day and now there’s this new suspicion surrounding an entire house despite the fact the Death Eaters had members from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff too.” 

Harry nodded solemnly. “Everyone thinks that the war ended at the Battle of Hogwarts, but in reality, our work is barely beginning. The hardest part is healing. I’ll admit that sometimes it’s hard for me to separate the fact that Tom was a Slytherin with my own biases about the whole house itself, but unlearning all of those misconceptions is a process. It takes a lot to change a person’s perception. We can’t all be as smart and logical as you Ravenclaws.” 

“If only, right?” you said with a smile. 

“Well, we could always try it your way and threaten to push people off of the bleachers.” His green eyes crinkled with amusement. 

You groaned. “I can’t believe you heard about that.” 

“I must say, Ron and I had a proper laugh when we heard about it. He still hasn’t forgotten his stay in the hospital wing thanks to Romilda’s tainted chocolate cauldrons.” You grimaced, which made Harry chuckle. “I am sorry about what she said to Pansy though. We aren’t friends by any means, but I’d like to think that we’re at least on civil terms. Luna talks about her fondly and if Parkinson’s got your approval, then it’s safe to assume that she’s treating our friend well.” 

“She is,” you agreed. “They are nauseatingly perfect for each other.” 

“I’m glad to hear it. We all deserve a little happiness.” 

“Speaking of which, how’s Ginny doing?” 

The boy who lived blushed furiously. “She’s well. How’s Theo doing?” 

You smirked. “Touche, Potter. Touche.”

As the night droned on, you found excuses to visit the refreshment table just to get away from all the insufferable preening. While you fixed yourself a cup of tea, you sensed a presence to your right. Cassius surveyed the variety of teas on the table, but made no move to select any.

“Sorry, am I in your way?” 

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I just needed an excuse to get up.” 

You chuckled. “Join the club, Warrington.” He smiled a little as you dropped a sugar cube into your cup. “Congratulations on the recruitment by the way. Your teammates won’t shut up about it.” 

Cassius scratched the back of his head, looking a bit shy. “Thanks, Y/N. Everything is still in the negotiation stage, but after the last game, I think my chances are looking good. The boys said you were there for the match.” 

“Yeah, I was. This might not mean much since I haven’t watched a game since fourth year, but you guys were great out there. It was bloody brutal. I had a blast.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. We do our best to put on a show,” he said. Warrington toyed with his saucer. He looked around before clearing his throat and lowering his voice. “Listen, Y/N. I heard about what you did for Pansy.”

“You and the rest of the school, apparently.” 

“I just wanted to say thanks for sticking up for her. Pansy—she—helped me out a lot after my father was imprisoned and I probably wasn’t the only one. Everyone in Slytherin, especially those that were caught in the crossfire last year, owe a lot to her. She’s one of the good ones.”

You nodded, smiling. “I wouldn’t have let her date my best friend if I didn’t think that myself.” 

“Luna makes her really happy. I’m glad that they have each other. Pansy earned it.” 

“They both did.”

The conversation was cut short as Slughorn tapped his spoon against his goblet. The two of you reluctantly made your way back to the table.

“Thank you all for joining me tonight. It is a great privilege to be able to gather after all that passed last year. I urge you to look around at your fellow witches and wizards, remembering the fallen and celebrating the sacrifices that have all brought us back to this castle. As we commemorate this monumental moment, let us look not to the past but to the future.” 

You swirled the glass of sparkling non-alcoholic spritzer, only half listening to the generic drivel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. The more Slughorn talked, the more irritated you felt. There was all this talk of looking to the future, moving on, hoping for a better tomorrow, but what use was that if you couldn’t even fix the present?

Professor Slughorn raised his glass in the air. “A toast to the best of the best.” 

That one phrase was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You had no idea why, but those words finally made you crack.

“That’s not right though, is it professor?” The whole table fell silent as every head turned in your direction. “Sure we may be smart, accomplished, but not the best.” 

Slughorn reeled back in surprise. His expression faltered before he plastered on a false smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. All of you worked hard to get here.” 

“None of us are even the top student in your class. That would be Theo.” You were vaguely aware that you were raising your voice, but once the words tumbled past your lips, you couldn’t reel them back in. “But he’s not here because surely we can’t invite your star pupil to a slug club dinner if his father is in Azkaban for being a death eater. That would be like inviting the Dark Lord to dinner, but wait. Didn’t you already do that, professor?”

A gasp came from your right. Melinda stared at you as though you’d grown an extra head. 

“That’s quite enough, Y/N.”

Your humorless laughter echoed in the cavernous office. “Oh, but I’m just getting started. What was it that you said in your welcoming speech at the beginning of the year? Unity and reconciliation? Surely ostracizing someone for his father’s deeds, which he had nothing to do with by the way, judged and ruled by the Ministry itself, directly contradicts that sentiment, does it not? Or are we all just supposed to ignore this blatant display of discrimination against a perfectly innocent student?”

“Perfectly innocent?” scoffed McLaggen. “Nott comes from a long line of dark wizards as do the rest of the Slytherins. They show you an ounce of kindness and suddenly you become their little muggleborn pet.” 

To your surprise, Cassius leapt to his feet. “Don’t call her that,” he nearly growled. “Y/N is just being a good friend. She stood up for Pansy when no one else would and now she’s doing it for Theo, too. You want to compare ledgers, McLaggen? Didn’t your father and uncle conspire to bring the Ministry under the Dark Lord’s control? They armed Voldemort and the Death Eaters then profited off of the war. They deserve to be in Azkaban just as much as my father does, but conveniently their records were wiped clean. Isn’t that why your family moved to France?” 

The room was utterly silent. McLaggen looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, but Cassius wasn’t done. He wheeled around to face the other attendees. “I’m not stupid. I know I was only invited because I’m being scouted by the Cannons, but I hoped that attending would make you see me as someone more than just a Death Eater’s son. I guess I was wrong and now I’m done with this farce. You’ll never stop seeing us as the villains.”

Without waiting for a response, Cassius stormed out of the room. He held his head up proudly, nodding to you and Harry as he made his graceful exit. 

“Cassius is right,” Harry declared. “So is Y/N. We can’t crucify every Slytherin for the mistakes of a few. That would make us no better than Voldemort himself.  The way I see it, the only way to get to the future we all fought for is to work with our fellow classmates, the Slytherins included. I hope you can learn to look past your biases and false perceptions, just as I’m learning how to.” 

Not a single person moved as Harry finished his speech. “Right, well that’s that then.” He turned over to you. “Shall we get going, Y/N?” 

“Gladly.” 

You pushed your chair back and paid no mind to the burning gazes seared upon your back. Before following Harry out of the office, you leaned in close to McLaggen and lowered your voice so only he could hear. “If you ever speak poorly of my friends again, I’ll dose you with a potion that makes your precious man parts shrivel.” 

Cormac paled several shades as you patted him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your dessert, McLaggen. I heard chocolate ganache pairs well with prejudice.” 

The castle was quiet at this time of night. You and Harry walked side by side through the dungeons in silence. For someone who just blew up her academic career, you felt fairly calm. You knew that speaking up for your friends was the right thing to do. 

“Thank you for speaking up back there,” you said. “You didn’t have to do that. You don’t owe anyone anything after all you’ve done, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” 

“I do though. Hearing Cassius in there, I realized that the Ministry has failed both sides in a lot of ways. I think we’re all so eager to go back to the way things were before that we’re willing to overlook a lot of things. I’ve never even thought about families like the McLaggens who aided the Dark Lord, but got off with a light sentence. Or people like Cassius and Pansy and Theo who face a lot of unfair judgment from the rest of the wizarding world.” 

“That’s the point, Harry. You shouldn’t have to think about it. None of us should. We’re all just children forced to grow up by the war because of the failure of those before us. It’s unfair to be burdened with a load so heavy.”

Harry sighed, nodding. “But if we don’t carry our load, we risk repeating the same mistakes and I won’t have that. We have to do better than the past generations.” 

“We will,” you declared. “We have to.” 

The torch lights drew shadows across the stone floors as you contemplated. 

“You really care about them, don’t you?” It was more a statement rather than a question. You nodded, which made Harry smile. “I can tell that they care about you, too. Especially Theo.” 

“We spent years in competition with one another, the classic bitter rivals. It’s kind of ironic that we became friends during our last year here.” 

Harry looked at you strangely. “Right, friends…”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at the green eyed wizard. “What’s that tone for, Potter?” 

His mouth quirked. “Nothing, it’s just—well, Theo looks at you like I used to look at Ginny. With pining and yearning, as Mione liked to say. And the way you defended him earlier, Ginny would’ve done the same for me.” You were silent for a moment as you absorbed his words. “A word of advice, Y/N. I know it’s against those Ravenclaw instincts, but sometimes it’s good to get out of your head and tune into your heart instead.” 

“Since when did the boy who lived become an expert on all things romance?” you teased. 

“A handful of near death experiences really helps put things into perspective.” 

You grinned. “I’ll take your word for it, Potter.” The two of you came to a stop at the base of the Ravenclaw Tower. “Well, this is me. Thank you for tonight. I genuinely hope to never do it again.” 

Harry laughed. “You and me both, Y/N.” 

You raised up on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek in thanks, feeling uncharacteristically chipper despite the disastrous dinner. “Good night, Harry.” 

He smiled, blushing slightly. “Good night, Y/N.” 

As you climbed up the spiraling staircase, you saw a glimpse of snow falling softly over the castle grounds. When you stopped and stared at the glittering landscape, you recalled the other night in Hogsmeade when Theo leaned in to brush the snowflakes off of your lips. 

There’s something that I’ve been meaning to tell you. 

You were certain that you already knew what Theo was about to say, because you’ve been meaning to tell him the same thing too. When you reached the fifth floor, your grin had grown so wide that your cheeks ached from smiling. As you slipped past the bronze eagle knocker, you caught a glimpse of a discarded bouquet of wisterias peeking out from a nearby trash bin. 

With a pause, you plucked a petal off of your favorite flower and tucked it into your braid. You went to sleep that night thinking that Harry was right. 

Maybe it was time to let your heart do the talking. 

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[hoes4hoseok]

mehndi laga ke rakhna

heeseung looks for his name in your henna the night before your wedding.

pairing :: lee heeseung x gn!reader genres/au’s :: fluff warnings :: brief food talk word count :: 0.5k author’s note :: i don't care how this performs (at least i'm telling myself that) because this fic is completely self-indulgent. no one asked for this. i hope my fellow desis and everyone else who chooses to read this enjoy this nevertheless. this is so embarrassing omg DON'T LOOK AT ME. also, jaanu means dear in urdu/hindi and i used it because i'm feeling delusional. beta readers :: @sunoosill but she might have been too busy laughing at me to actually edit it LOL I APPRECIATE YOU THO <3 soundtrack :: kesariya (honestly i was listening to o re piya while writing but that song makes me sad so here)

“oh, you look beautiful,” heeseung declared from the couch, his right hand on his heart as you rounded the corner into your warmly lit living room, “do a little twirl.”

“i’m wearing pajamas, heeseung,” you protested but lifted the ends of your pajamas to spin for your fiancé with a bashful grin. 

“how long did this take?” heeseung’s eyes widened as you approached, surprised by the level of detail in your mehndi.

“five or six hours. she had to cover my feet, too,”

“five or s—” heeseung’s mouth fell agape, “i hope you got to eat and drink water.”

“i did, don’t worry,” you laughed off his comment, recalling how frantic your friends and family were to ensure you were doing just that, “and…i have a little surprise for you.”

heeseung tilted his head in curiosity, gaze fixed on you as you joined him on the sofa. “and what would that be?”

“do you remember that tradition i told you about? the one that—”

“you wrote my name in there?” a toothy smile started to form on heeseung’s lips as he gently pulled your right hand toward his face.

“just your first name,” you smiled, combing the hair that had fallen into heeseung’s face in his excitement back with your free hand. he remained focused on your hand as he used his pointer finger to follow a spiral from the center of your palm outward.

“this will be so easy,”

“if you think it’s so easy, maybe we should add some stakes,” you suggested. you tried to sound like you had just come up with this idea, but your delivery revealed that you had thought about it much beforehand. he looked up with a cocked eyebrow, always in the mood for a challenge. “if you don’t find your name in the next three minutes, i win — in which case, i get to write my name on you too. in the same spot.”

“okay, deal,” he said softly, smiling to himself as he set a timer before looking back down at your mehndi. your heart swelled with affection as he moved his touch along your forearm to check there, grazing each square inch with his soft fingers. he met your eyes momentarily, shaking his head as if to say “not on this one.”

picking up your left hand, he repeated the process, starting from the center of your palm and working outward. he paused briefly midway through tracing your fingers but continued, biting his bottom lip to conceal a grin.

“you have a terrible poker face, jaanu,” he pretended not to hear you, so you wiggled your fingers to get his attention. “i know you found it.”

“you’re so sentimental that i knew exactly where it was going to be,” heeseung admitted, curling your left index and middle fingers forward to reveal, among the scallops of the design, ‘HEESEUNG’ written along the length of your ring finger. “but i knew you wanted to write your name on my hand.”

“oh, who’s the sentimental one now, hm?” you rolled your eyes, giving a playful push to his shoulder.

heeseung reached behind himself to reveal a mehndi cone, a proud smirk on his face, “might be me,” he handed you the cone and put his left hand in yours.

“it’s definitely you,” you leaned forward, pressing a small kiss onto the corner of his grin.

masterlist

[najia-cooks]

Lemon balm shortbread cookies

Lemon balm (Melissa officinalis), a commonly foraged plant in the mint family, gives a lightly herbacious, bright lemon flavor to these shortbread cookies. They have a classic, crisp, sandy shortbread texture; optional poppy seeds add crunch and a mild nutty flavor. The lemon balm and poppy seeds may be swapped out for any combination of herbs, spices, or citrus zest that your heart desires.

These cookies are subtly sweet and very dunkable, making them perfect companions to a cup of tea or coffee.

Recipe under the cut!

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Lemon balm has square stems and opposite leaves (two leaves per node on opposite sides of the stem). Leaves are simple (one leaf blade with no leaflets); ovate and slightly heart-shaped, with scalloped edges; slightly glossy; thin, soft, and hairy; and deeply veined. They are emerald green on the top, and a lighter greyish green on the underside. They have a lemony scent and an oily texture when crushed. Stems and petioles (leaf stalks) are covered in small standing hairs.

Ingredients:

120g (1/2 cup + 1 Tbsp) salted non-dairy margarine, softened

60g (1/3 cup) caster or granulated sugar

180g (1 1/2 cups) AP flour

1/4 cup (8.5g) minced lemon balm

1 tsp poppy seeds (optional)

Like most traditional shortbread, this recipe follows a 1:2:3 ratio of sugar:butter:flour (by weight). Any herbs, spices, citrus zest, etc. of your choosing may be added to that base.

You could replace the caster sugar with powdered sugar if you want a melt-in-your-mouth texture, rather than a typical crumbly shortbread texture.

Instructions:

Cream margarine with an electric beater for 30 seconds, until it has a whipped texture. Add lemon balm and sugar and beat for another 3 minutes or so, until a couple shades lighter in color (this means that you have incorporated enough air).

Add the flour and mix well with a wooden spoon; then press with your hands to form into a ball.

Roll the dough out into a cylinder. You can make the cylinder more regular by placing it on a piece of wax or parchment paper, then folding the parchment paper over; use a ruler or the flat of a knife to force the cylinder of dough back into the folded edge of the paper.

Wrap the dough by twisting the ends of the parchment paper around, like a candy wrapper. Chill the dough for at least an hour, to keep the cookies from spreading in the oven by allowing the flour to absorb liquid.

Using a sharp paring knife, cut the cylinder of dough into slices about 1/4" thick. Place on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, about 1/2" apart.

Bake at 350 °F (180 °C), in the top third of your oven, for 8 to 10 minutes. For chewier cookies, bake just until the center of the top and bottom of the cookie is no longer wet-looking; for crisper ones, bake until the edges are just starting to turn a light golden color.

[sometimesanalice]

Days Like This

Summary: When your day goes from bad to terrible to worse, Bradley is there to help pick you back up.

Warnings: a lot of feels and a soft ending. Minors DNI

Length: 7.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

The traffic on the highway getting home from where you worked was particularly disgusting for 2pm on a Tuesday.

The tint on the darkest pair of the many sunglasses you kept in your car wasn’t doing anything to help with the migraine that has started out at work as a whisper but had steadily built to a full roar. The California sun glaring down on you through your window wasn’t doing anything to help the pressure behind your eyes or the pain radiating throughout your head.

You wanted to be home.

The day started out nicely, perfectly even. Bradley’s lecture for the day had been pushed back, so he was still there in bed with you when you had woken up. And the two of you got to enjoy your coffee and breakfast together al fresco under the foliage of the tree that was built into your outdoor deck, soaking up each other and the morning sun before it got too hot.

All of Bradley’s bronze skin was on display in the sunlight as he had only been wearing a pair of sweatpants, his soft UVA t-shirt missing since it was on you instead. The neighbors were probably getting an eyeful, but the chances were high that they’ve already seen you both in much less.

His eyes had lit up and he had let out a low whistle when you came back down the stairs in the outfit you had worn for going into the office. It was just a formfitting navy pencil skirt and striped cotton button down, but that didn’t stop him from crowding you up against the white marble counter. His hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you.

“Bradley,” you sighed leaning back, letting his broad, warm body support you, “I can’t show up to work all wrinkled.”

You could feel the outline of him through his heathered gray sweatpants, and it worked for you.

Everything about him worked for you.

“Can’t have that, now can we?” he murmured in your ear. His hands sliding around to the exposed zipper in the back, fingers playing with the pull tab there, “Let’s take it off then.”

And you were tempted. So, so tempted as he teased his mustache along your neck.

“I’m going to be late,” you said, spinning to wrap your arms around his neck. The taste of coffee on his tongue was better than anything out of a mug.

“C’mon, kid,” he coaxed against your mouth, his voice pure seduction, “Let me give you a proper send off.”

His hands had found the top button of your blue and white striped shirt, slipping it out of its buttonhole to expose a couple more inches of your skin to his eyes.

You didn’t have any meetings until later in the morning, and his mouth was your favorite kind of distraction. Especially the way he was lazily working his way along your jawline.

“You always smell so good,” he hummed into your skin. Those sly and precise hands undid another button before sliding one under your shirt. His finger tracing along the line of the scalloped line of your bra.

And then you remembered just what exactly you were wearing under that button down and pencil skirt that was driving him so crazy. If Bradley were to discover what you had on, you would have definitely been late for work.

That was a surprise for him to find later.

He tugged on the collar of your button down to get another glimpse of you and at what secrets resided beneath your top.

“Bradley!” you laughed swatting at his hands you tried to pull away. Working quickly to rebutton the ones he had managed to get undone while you had been preoccupied with his mouth.

“You can’t blame a guy for trying,” he winked at you, still running his hands along your body.

“No, of course not,” you tease, rolling your eyes in amusement, “However, I do reserve the right to blame you if I am late for work.”

“You could always just tell them you were late because you were doing your patriotic duty. Don’t they give you paid volunteer hours at that place?” he asked with a wicked smirk before letting you go with one final squeeze to your hips.

“I don’t think me volunteering for another round of patriotic sex on the kitchen island is what they meant when they gave us those paid community hours. Even if it is technically in service and support for the property of the US Navy.”

You leaned in for one more quick kiss, coping a quick feel of his ass as you darted out of his reach and towards the entryway before he could pull you back in again, “Please send my thanks to Uncle Sam.”

He chuckled, as he leaned against the counter with his legs crossed at the ankles with his mug of coffee back in his hands, “Have a good day, kid.”

You gathered your things and were almost out the door when Bradley called out to you.

“Hey! You forgot something.”

You paused to check your bag, confused about what could have possibly been missing. Once your laptop, phone, wallet, and keys had all been accounted for you turned back towards him to see what had been overlooked in your haste to get out the door.

“I love you, sweet girl.”

Oh, he was so gone for you.

You didn’t think you would ever get over how handsome Bradley was, especially when he was smiling at you with such warmth and affection.

“I love you too,” you grinned back at him, before sauntering out the door with a cheeky salute, “See you later, Lieutenant Commander.”

And then you hit every goddamn red light possible on your way into work.

You wanted to be home.

You wanted to be in your bed.

Things had gone from bad to worse in the few minutes it had taken you to walk through the main door of your building towards your office.

There hadn’t even been time to make a stop at the fancy espresso machine that was in the break room before your work nemesis, Grace, was charging at you in the hallway to rant about the derailed timelines for a project that you were both assigned to for one of the biggest clients on your company’s account roster.

It was clear as you looked over the spreadsheets she had printed out, still holding your heavy work tote on your shoulder, that there wouldn’t be any way to salvage the mess and that the deliverables wouldn't be ready in time for the client’s target deadline.

When she left in an angry huff marching towards the direction of your boss’ office, your stomach was aching from the twisted knots that had formed in your lower abdomen. The idea of the coffee you had been looking forward to was now the last thing on your mind, not that the caffeine would be good for your elevated levels of anxiety.

Both you and Grace were in the running for the same promotion, and you knew without a doubt that she was going to try and pin all the poor planning on you.

As if she wasn’t the one who’d essentially elbowed you out of the way for this portion of the project claiming that she had been further along in the planning process and that “it would be redundant and a waste time and resources for us to both work on this.”

She had dodged your attempts to collaborate, stonewalling you at every possible turn. You had been excluded from important meetings multiple times and had been asked to do duplicate work even though your own plate was already overloaded from all the slack you were picking up. You had found so many errors in what little information she had sent your way, that you were having to redo most everything as it came to you.

While you had been debating going to your boss to inform her of the ongoing issues, you had held off because even though you kept things professional at the office, it wasn’t a secret that the two of you weren’t exactly the best of friends. And you had been worried she might have brushed it off as interpersonal issues rather than Grace’s clear attempts to sabotage you.

So, you couldn’t say you were surprised when you were called into an emergency meeting with both your boss, Joanna, and the bane of your existence less than forty minutes later. And even less surprised when Grace pointed the finger at you in that condescending manner of hers that had gotten under your skin from the very first day you met her.

However, you had come prepared. You listened tolerantly as she listed off all the things that you’d allegedly done wrong before speaking up.

“To my understanding, all the things you just listed fell under the portion of the project that you claimed responsibility for,” you stated, trying to keep your voice from sounding tight and clipped.

What she didn’t realize as she tried to place the blame on you was that your receipts had receipts. And you proceeded to hand over the file folder of all the email correspondence you had saved and collected during the project to your manager.

“And am I allowed to know just what exactly that is?” Grace demanded.

“Of course, it’s simply our emails. So the content of that file won’t come as a surprise to you,” you replied as neutrally as possible.

You had highlighted all the important requests that were denied or ignored completely, the obvious errors, and the work that she had claimed credit for that was actually yours.

And the smoking gun, was a message you had received a notification about on Slack that was clearly posted to the wrong channel where Grace was all but admitting that she was purposefully giving you wrong information to work with. And while she had been quick to delete it, you had been quicker to get a screenshot of it.

You had conveniently placed that bit on the top of the pile to be the first thing your boss would see.

“I’m sorry for not coming to you sooner about this,” you said sincerely to your boss, “I had no clue things had spiraled out of control this bad until this morning. And after you review that file, I am sure you’ll see why.”

You tried to keep your fidgeting under control seated in the boucle chair as she skimmed over the first couple of pages, glancing between you and your work nemesis. The tension palpable and oppressive in the room.

Normally you loved being in Joanna’s office, it was tastefully chic with a white lacquer desk and a large Fiddle Fig tree in the corner. And your boss was always the type to indulge in a little pop culture talk, the two of you had had many a coffee break in there together, but at that moment you couldn’t wait to get back to your own office and away from Grace.

“The two of you are dismissed for now while I review this. In the meantime, I expect you both to work on finding what solutions we have at our disposal to get this back on track.”

You wanted to be home.

You wanted to be in your bed.

You wanted to be under your soft green comforter.

The migraine came on steadily after that meeting. From the stress or the lack of sufficent caffeine you couldn’t say.

Your heart had been racing since you had left Joanna's office, and not in the fun way that Bradley was usually responsible for.

God, what had you been thinking to turn down more morning sex with Bradley Bradshaw? Even if it would have ruined the surprise you had planned, at least the additional post-orgasm endorphin high might have helped you get through the day better.

Maybe you definitely should have let him have his way that morning.

You were feeling on the brink of an anxiety attack an hour later when your boss called you back for a follow-up meeting.

Popping a couple CBD tablets and wiping your damp shaky hands on your sleek navy skirt, you saved the minimal amount of work you’d been able to get done while you had been spiraling before getting up to stop by the restroom before your one-on-one.

In the quiet of the bathroom, you disrobed enough to work the pretty yet impractical one piece you were wearing down your body when you realized the stress alone wasn’t the only reason for why your stomach had been hurting all morning.

For a moment you felt nothing. And then you felt everything.

No. No. No.

The tears prickled behind your eyes, and you had to bite your lip hard to keep from crying. Your day had already gone from bad to terrible to worse, and now this.

You wouldn’t cry. You couldn’t cry.

No.

You wouldn’t let yourself cry.

You wouldn’t cry and Bradley wouldn’t get to see the surprise you had planned for him because the gusset of that more-expensive-than-it-should-have-been delicate and lovely sheer white French lace bodysuit you had secretly bought and slipped on this morning was stained a bright crimson red.

Steeling yourself against the swell of emotions that was threatening to drag you down, you perfunctorily folded up a wad of toilet paper and placed it in the center of the lining as you shimmed the formerly-stunning-but-now-ruined lingerie back up.

Just another thing that had gone wrong today. Just another problem to be dealt with later. Just one more thing that made you wish you’d never got out of bed this morning.

Tucking your shirt back in, you pushed everything out of your mind. You would not be the woman showing up to your boss’ office with streaky make up and puffy eyes.

After washing your hands and giving yourself a critical once over in the gold rimmed mirror and straightening your skirt just so, you had made your way to your over to Joanna’s corner office.

She didn’t keep you on tenterhooks for very long, letting you know that she had passed along the folder of information you had given her to HR and that Grace had been sent home for the day. While the clients were unhappy with the delays, she had managed to convince them of the merits of pushing back the project by a few weeks, giving your team the opportunity to clean up the mess.

For the time being, she would be taking over the project account until the internal investigation was completed by HR, but she anticipated being able to turn the reins back over to you alone very shortly. And then in the strictest confidentiality within the sanctity of her cozy yet aesthetic office, she had all but confirmed that the promotion you had been working so hard for was always going to be yours.

While she reassured you that she was on your side, you still couldn’t help feeling like you’d let her down. And then with a nod and an edict to not worry about anything, she also sent you home for the day too.

You wanted to be home.

You wanted to be in your bed.

You wanted to be under your soft green comforter.

You wanted to be on Bradley’s side of the bed.

The drive home felt like the longest fifty minutes of your life.

The traffic was always terrible, but today it was worse. You would never understand why Californians couldn’t figure out how to merge on the highway. It was supposed to be a zipper, not a game of chicken to see how close you could get to someone without actually hitting them.

And then seeing the man who was too old to be selling flowers on the cement divider in the middle of the road at one of the red lights you had been stuck at only added another bruise to your already battered heart.

Not even when you finally pulled up to the house you loved so much had helped to ease the pain of the day. You weren’t hit with the same rush of delight as you usually were when you arrived back to the home you shared with Bradley.

You didn’t know it was possible for such a fairytale home to exist in San Diego, but it did and it was yours.

The charming 1930’s white Tudor had a set of four diamond paneled windows in the front that were warm and welcoming. The large cement pavers up the slope of the lawn lead you to a black door that had an abundance of vintage character.

The house was situated picturesquely under a large Tipuana tree. Bradley was always complaining about the little yellow flowers when they littered the lawn, but you loved the cheerful floral confetti. Which is probably why he left them there for you waiting until they were withered and brown before blowing them into the street.

It had absolutely stolen your breath away the first time you saw it.

The two of you had been driving around in the Bronco one afternoon with Van Morrison playing on the radio just enjoying the afternoon sun after a week of rain. You had gasped when he drove by the house as the agent was attempting to put up the For Sale sign.

Other than the time at the seaside restaurant when you and Bradley had decided to go all in on each other, you had never been so struck with a feeling of such resolute surety. It was meant to be your house.

Your home with Bradley.

He must have felt it too because he’d barely gotten the Bronco in Park before he had leapt out of the car jogging up to the agent, the car still running and the keys in the ignition.

You’ll never know what he said to the woman as he helped her to get the post for the sign situated in the corner of the lot since you had been trying to actually turn the car off before getting unbuckled and out of the car yourself.

Maybe it had been his words. Maybe it had been the flight suit. Maybe it had been kismet. Whatever it was it worked, since she ended up giving you both an impromptu viewing of the home right then and there.

And 30 minutes after that you and Bradley were putting in an offer on the house, one that was accepted a couple days later.

Your movements were mechanical in the way you get out of your car and into your home. Not bothering to move your heels from where you kicked them off by the door or to pick up your work tote from where it had fallen over.

All you could focus on was moving from one task to the next, determined to not let yourself fall apart. Tossing your clothes in the laundry room as you made your way to your bedroom to close the blinds, finally giving your eyes the break from the light they had needed all day.

Bradley’s well-worn shirt was still where you had left it in the bathroom earlier from when you had changed after your perfect breakfast with him. Before your day had imploded.

Pulling it on over your head, letting Bradley’s scent wash over you, as you finally crawled into your bed with a ragged sigh.

You were home.

You were in your bed.

You were under your soft green comforter.

You were on Bradley’s side of the bed.

You wanted Bradley.

You wanted Bradley.

You wanted Bradley.

With that as your final thought on repeat like a lullaby of longing, you finally let yourself slide away.

Nothing could wipe the grin from Bradley’s face as he drove home with the California sun shining down on him.

He was still buzzing from the adrenaline of the successful hop he had completed earlier in the day.

As part of the training for the newest batch of Top Gun students, he and Mav had been tasked with demonstrating some advanced technical maneuvers before participating in a dog fight exercise. Where he had successfully gotten a lock and pulled tone on his friend and mentor for the first time in a long while.

The glimpse of white lace he had caught earlier that morning in the kitchen when he had sneaked a peek down your oversized shirt had been on his mind all day. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, wondering whether or not his eyes had been playing tricks on him.

Either way he couldn’t wait to find out.

He had even already queued up all of your favorite dishes for the Chinese food delivery he was planning on ordering a little later in the evening. You were going to get his full attention tonight.

There was nothing he loved more than getting creative and putting that canopy bed to the test, and so far the overpriced-but-well-built bed hadn’t let him down.

He was going to enjoy his time taking you apart bit by bit.

Normally, he was the one to always beat you home, so he was surprised but elated to see your car parked in the drive way. He might need to order that food earlier than he expected, now that there was more time to work up an appetite and you both would need your sustenance for what he had planned.

Whistling to himself as he got out of the Bronco, he unzipped his flight suit and tugged it down tying the arms around his waist, he knew what you liked. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t the star in all your fantasies.

The door was already unlocked, which wasn’t like you. He imagined you probably forgot to lock it in a haste to get inside to grab a cold glass of rosé before catching up on some reality tv on the couch.

He hoped you weren’t watching the newest episode of Below Deck without him. He wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet, but you had gotten him hooked on the show. Captain Lee reminded him of one of the Commanders he’d had during flight school.

Walking in he was a little annoyed to find your shoes and bag littered on the floor of the entry. He likes to keep things tidy, while you like to keep things “lived in”. Bending down he undid his shoes and picked up your things. Putting your bag in the coat closet for you, out of sight out of mind. He knew you didn’t like to bring work home with you if you could avoid it.

Your heels were dangling from his fingers as he turned the corner, expecting to see you curled up on the oversized gray sectional, but you’re weren’t there.

Huh.

As he stands in the living room and listens. He can’t hear the sound of the tv from the bedroom either, the house is silent. Trying to ignore the feeling of wrongness that was taking up residency in his chest, he made his way to the bedroom. The driving need to find you, to check in on you, was the only thing on his mind now.

He opens the door to your bedroom quietly. The room is darkened, but there are faint rays of sunlight making their way past the edges of the blackout blinds he had installed. And he feels instant relief when he sees you curled up on this side of the bed, head pressed against his pillow.

Being mindful of the edge of the rug, trying to not disturb you, he carefully approaches you kneeling in front of where you’re resting. Your face is still clearly holding the strain of the day, and your eyebrows were knitted together. He lightly brushes the hair away from your face, and even in sleep you seek his touch, head moving slightly to chase the feeling of his fingers.

The pressure in his chest lessening, seeing you safe and sound in your shared bed. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek before he stands up putting your heels back in the walk-in closet, and makes his way to the bathroom.

He wanted to rinse the smell of sweat and jet fuel off before he laid in bed with you. Undoing his flight suit the rest of the way he kicks it off, and his eyes snag on the open box of tampons sitting on top of the bathroom counter.

He is quick to undress the rest of the way, and rushes through his usual post-work shower routine doing just the bare minimum. Just some soap and shampoo, he wouldn’t be waiting the five minutes that was recommended on the back of your conditioner bottle that he liked to use sometimes to keep his hair soft.

Once he is dried off enough to pull on the pair of sweatpants he had worn earlier that morning, he makes his way back to you. Lifting up the covers on your side of the bed to slide in behind you. Wrapping an arm around you as he pressed himself closer to you, and you sighed lightly at the contact.

He lets his eyes drift close as he holds you. He didn’t know exactly what kind of a day you had had, but all that mattered to him was that he would be there for you when you woke up.

You’re warm.

You’re warm and there’s an arm draped over your waist.

You’re warm and there’s an arm draped over your waist and a solid chest pressed against your back.

And for the first time since you’d left the house this morning things didn’t feel as overwhelming as they had been when you were on your own.

“Bradley?” you whisper in the quiet of your bedroom.

You so desperately want him to be awake, you just want him right now.

Please be awake.

“I’m here, sweet girl,” he murmurs, and the relief that washes over you is strong and immediate.

You turn over, needing to be closer to him, wanting to lose yourself in his warmth and to never leave this bed again.

He opens his arms for you, smoothing out some of your sleep-matted hair behind your ear as you drape yourself over him. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, your throat thick with emotion.

He’s looking at you so softly, so tenderly. A crease between his eyebrows as he searches your eyes, as he reads you in that way that no one else does. And you know he knows.

There’s no stopping the cry that erupts from deep in your chest. There’s no holding back the tears that have been prickling behind your eyelids all day.

His gentleness is the thing that ends up being your undoing.

Bradley just pulls you closer, tucking your head into the safe space in the nook of his neck, as you shake with the sobs that reverberate throughout your whole body. Quietly shushing you soothingly as he kisses the crown of your head.

And when he picks up your left hand and kisses the pair of rings that have a home there in an unspoken vow, it only makes you cry harder.

The Toi et Moi engagement ring had never left your ring finger since the day Bradley put it there. Carole’s round diamond nestled next to your mom’s oval shaped one were fixed together permanently in gold. It was only fitting that you carried both of them with you always, a reminder of how their friendship was the beginning of you and Bradley.

Your wedding band had been forged from the melted remains of that symbol of love between the man you never met and the woman who had loved you like a daughter, the people responsible for bringing the love of your life into the world.

Through the sounds of your weeping, Bradley’s quiet murmurs made it to your ears and his words wrapped themselves around your heart.

The delicate I’m sorrys, the soft I’m heres, the gentle I’ve got yous, the tender I love yous.

You heard every single one of them as he repeated them over and over again as you gave yourself up to the tidal wave of emotions that you had been fighting to suppress all day.

You and Bradley had been married for a little two years. You were perfectly happy with your life. Bradley was perfectly happy with your life. And that was all that mattered.

You didn’t feel that ticking clock that seemed to follow women over a certain age around like a dark cloud. Neither one of you was in a particular rush, more than happy to enjoy the process and to take full advantage of that large canopy bed in your bedroom.

There was time, you had time.

However, seeing that stain on the pretty-but-now-probably-ruined lacy lingerie had hit you harder than you ever could have expected.

You and Bradley had only been trying for a couple of months. And logically you knew better, knew that it might take some time to happen.

You knew better, yet your heart hadn’t been given the same message.

And with all of the work drama lately, you really should have thought about how the stress might have played a role when you were a few days late instead of letting yourself get ahead of yourself. You had already been planning on stopping by the convenience store after work to pick up a box of tests, and instead you had come home with a new box of tampons.

Before Bradley, you had never given much thought about being a mother or starting a family. But being with Bradley? Thinking about how he would be the best partner and best dad to a child that was half him and half you, there was nothing more that you wanted than that future.

You wanted it. Oh, you wanted it.

You can feel the burning trail of every hot tear that made its way down your face as Bradley rubbed small circles on your back with his large hand in the sanctuary of your bedroom.

Crying over the work shit that you hated bringing home with you. Of how it felt to be so viciously thrown under the bus and then the relief of knowing your boss sided with you.

Crying over the elderly man selling flowers on the street corner you had seen on your way home and the sad hunch of his back.

Crying over the pretty lace bodysuit that was soaking in the sink of the laundry room that might not never be the same again. And the fact that Bradley never got to see you in it.

Crying over what wasn’t meant to be. At least not right now.

You cried over all of it. All at once. All while Bradley held you, cradled you, loved you.

In your home.

In your bed.

Under the soft green comforter.

On his side of the bed.

His chest ached at the sound of your sobs.

It was agony to feel so helpless as you cried into neck, as he felt your tears on his skin. He would have given anything to be able to take on your pain, it was a burden he would have willingly carried for you.

So he did what he could: he held you.

Held you as you wept. Held you when the sobs tapered into sniffles. Held you as your tears dried on his skin.

When he was sure you were done crying, he pulled back a bit so that he could see your face, to be able to look in your eyes. They were red and swollen, but you were still the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Using his thumb, he carefully wipes under your eyes to remove the few teardrops that still cling to your lower lashes.

He leans in to kiss you gently, his lips lingering on yours as he breathes you in, before climbing out of the bed.

He didn’t want the shadows of the day to drown out your light any more than it already had.

“Come on, kid,” he says holding out both of his hands to help sit you up at the edge of the bed.

Walking to your shared closet, he sheds his sweatpants and pulls on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. He riffles through the dresser in there, the one he had bought for you a few years ago when he wanted you to move in with him, until he finds your softest dress. Stopping by the bathroom on his way back to you to grab a cool, damp washcloth.

You’re sitting there so despondently, your eyes still holding such sadness. He motions for you to lift your arms up, and he pulls his old UVA shirt up and off your body, replacing it with the dress he had fetched for you. Picking up the towel from where he had set it on the nightstand, he runs it softly over your face. Across your forehead, down the line of your nose, taking special care to be gentle around the delicate skin under your eyes.

When he’s done he tosses back onto the nightstand and crouches in front of you so that his eyes are level with yours. Reaching out he cradles your face tenderly between his hands and asks, “You with me?”

He takes the way you turn your head to place a kiss his palm as a yes.

“Good,” he whispers as he presses his lips against your cheek, “Let’s go.”

Threading his fingers though yours, he leads you out of the darkened bedroom and into the golden light of the late afternoon sun that was flooding into your living room through the diamond paneled windows. He makes a stop in the kitchen to grab you a cold water bottle from the fridge, passing it to you with the hand that wasn’t holding yours.

He helps you with your shoes before sliding his own on, and grabs his wallet and keys. At the Bronco he is the one to help you up and that buckles you in. Rummaging through his glove box to find your sunglasses, he slips the on your face for you before putting on his own. And then with an arm tucked behind your sea, he backs out of the driveway.

There is only a glimmer of an idea in his brain, all he really knew is that he couldn’t stand to see you looking so heartbroken for a second longer.

He is attempting to make a left hand turn when he hears you say, “Bradley, please not this way.”

Unfortunately, he heard your request too late. He was stopped at the light with the traffic lining up next to him and behind him. He turned to ask why you didn’t want to go this way, but you were looking intensively out your window and purposefully away from his direction.

He is confused for a moment and then he is hit with a stroke of brilliance when he sees an elderly man on the set up on the concrete divider surrounded by various buckets of flowers.

He hears you call his name as he jumps out of the car to approach the vendor, he is a man on a mission.

In the vows he spoke when he made you his wife, he promised to be the one person in this world you could count on to make you happy, to be the one person who would love you the way you deserved to be loved.

And that’s what he intended to do.

The hunched over man cheerfully accepted all the bills that he had in his leather wallet in exchange for what was left of his stock. And Bradley was happy that this meant the man could go home for the day and that you would have all the flowers he could get his hands on. It seemed like a more than fair trade to him.

He waved off the older man’s offer to help pile them all in the back of the Bronco, grabbing as many of the cellophane clusters as he could before making his way back to you.

“Bradley!” you laugh almost disbelievingly as he approaches, you’re wearing the first smile he has seen from you since you left the house this morning, and it makes his heart soar. “We’re going to cause a riot here.”

The light is green now and the cars behind him are clearly irritated, but he still another armload to go get, “Let them honk, sweet girl. We’ve got all the time we need.”

Once he has the rest of your flowers loaded in the back, he makes his way to your favorite taco stand. And then your favorite burger place, followed by the place two blocks away with your favorite fries.

And of course, he stops at the milkshake place, ordering a chocolate cherry chip shake for you and a peanut butter one from himself before driving towards the sunset and the beach.

You almost feel like crying again when Bradley parks in the lot at the public beach he has taken you to, but this time you know they’d be happy tears.

“Think we can manage all of this in one go?” he muses jokingly gesturing to the various take out bags that were piled in between your feet.

“I’d bet money on us,” you smile back at him.

“I would too, sweet girl,” he leans in to kiss you before he moves to get out of the Bronco. He rounds the car and opens the door to help you down.

He grabs the Pendleton blanket he keeps under the seat and tucks it under his arm. Then hands you the milkshakes and grabs the rest of the bags before nodding his head towards the beach.

“You know I can carry some of that too, right?” you tease pointing to his overloaded arms.

“Of course you can, sweet girl, but let me take care of this. I’ve got it,” he assures you, although you know he means more than just the bags, “Plus those are our most valuable pieces of cargo, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my milkshake.”

His affectionate grin was the only balm your heart would ever need.

The two of you only make it a few steps towards the beach before he tells you he forgot something as he doubles back to the car.

Wondering what could have been left behind, you watch him as he sets down the takeout bags down to reach into the back of the Bronco pulling out one of the many brightly colored wrapped bouquets resting in the back. He tucks that under his other arm before gathering the rest of the items for your impromptu beach picnic again and jogs back towards you.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

While you’re enjoying the spectacular show the sun is putting on for you as it starts to set as you stroll along the shore with Bradley, you realize that you’re feeling much lighter than before. That the inescapable heaviness that had settled on you over the course of the day no longer felt like it was resting entirely on your shoulders anymore.

And you know without a doubt that it has everything to do with your husband.

The two of you find the perfect spot in the sand, a little pocket of peace away from the noise of the boardwalk, he stands there for a second with an adorably concerned expression when he realizes the issue that he has created for himself by carrying all the items for your picnic in his capable but overloaded arms. And you laugh as you adjust the milkshakes in your hands to help offload the various bags in his hands so that he can lay out the blanket.

He smooths out the sand some before he opens up the blue geometric blanket. Once it is spread out to his liking, he takes the bags from you putting them in the corner, your only responsibility now to safeguard the milkshakes.

He seats himself down on the woven blanket, patting the space in front of him for you to come join him there. And once you are nestled between his propped legs, he pulls you back to rest against his chest.

You are surrounded by all of your favorite things: your husband, the best of San Diego’s drive-thru culinary offerings, the ocean, and the flowers you didn’t know you needed until Bradley got them for you.

And in that moment, you finally feel at peace as you and Bradley dig in to your picnic as you watch the sun inch closer down to the horizon.

You still had the rest of the week to get though. You knew there would be a mountain of work for you to deal with when you went back into the office tomorrow, that man with the flowers would probably be back in his same location tomorrow his buckets full of new bouquets to sell, and you would still be waiting and hoping for your maybe someday soon.

But you could face anything since you had Bradley by your side.

The food might be cold, the fries a little soggy, and the milkshakes were half melted now, but everything about it is perfect.

You let him support you in more ways than one as you settled more fully against him after you were both done eating. It was easier now to talk to him about your day, about the things he knew about and the things he didn’t as you watched the waves roll in and out along the shore as the tide came in.

You felt him tense up when you told him about your disaster of a day at the office. You felt him squeeze you in celebration when you told you about your unofficially official promotion. You felt him as he kissed your cheek when you told him about the equally ruined surprise and lingerie.

The other part you didn’t need to speak the words for, he knew your heart.

You would always have Bradley, and he would always have you.

That’s how it had always been back when you were kids forming the foundation of your friendship, and that’s how it was now as adults navigating the hardships and joys of this life you were building together.

A life where there was always someone there you could count on to pick you back up when you needed them the most.

He kisses your shoulder and rests his chin there as he takes in the view, gently rocking you side to side.

“I love you,” you murmur softly, resting your head against his, “Thank you.”

You know he hears what you are really saying.

Thank you for treating me the best. Thank you for knowing me the best. Thank you for loving me the best.

“It’s going to be ok, sweet girl” he promises against your mouth.

And you believe him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you need a virtual hug my inbox is always open!

This is a one-shot for my 'Like I Can' series.

Here’s a little moodboard for this fic too!

You can check out my other stories here!

Tag List:

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[thetypingpup]

Playing with Hwa's pretty hair while he gives attention to your nipples while languidly fucking you. Just enjoying the sensations of pleasure he's giving you and him enjoying you squeezing around him every once in a while

gonna do this with paladin!hwa if that's cool with everyone

it's the first feather bed you've had in weeks, and both of you take full advantage of it. your voices are hushed as to not disturb the others in the inn. the wood walls do little to dampen the noise, so he muffles his moans by sucking on your nipples. you run your fingers through his long dark hair, free from the confines from a hair tie at last. you grip the silken strands at the base and tug, encouraging him to press his face in deeper. his hands slide up to your waist, his passion palpable in the way he grips you tightly, as if intent on indulgence and reluctant to let you go. he rolls his hips up to meet your grinding hips, delving deeper and deeper within you with every thrust. you gasp out as quietly as you can, pleasure surging through you as his cock stretches you out over and over again. he's far bigger than any human, filling you to the brim every time he slides into you, and you wonder every time how you manage to take him all in. you struggle to contain a mewling whine as he presses against your sweet spot, making you shudder on top of him.

"careful, my darling." he murmurs, a teasing edge in his urge to keep you quiet, "you don't want anyone to hear, do you? you're supposed to be protecting your paladin, not bedding him."

playfulness piqued, you chuckle at this, purposefully clenching around him just to make him hiss out a moan. you move up and down on his cock, quicker now, rolling your hips in a way that makes him have to swallow back whimpers of pleasure. having gained the upper hand, you whisper to him, "here i am thinking your oath prevented such an illicit dalliance, and with your cleric no less."

there's no shame in what you're doing, no pact that forbids this, but you both find fun in toying with the idea of holy bonds preventing you from taking succor in each other's bodies. the added tension only accentuates your desire.

"i can never resist you, even if i tried, and oh how i've tried." he murmurs, thrusting his hips up and making you gasp, "oh how i wish i swore my oath to you instead."

your heart pounds at this. his words dance on the edge of blasphemy, and the weight behind his words make you halt. you feel his cock pulsing inside you, the knot at the base beginning to swell and press against your entrance. your clit rubs against the scalloped overlay of silver scales at the base of his cock

"was it not obvious before? i'm devoted to you." he asserts, cobalt eyes reflecting the silver glow of moon rays and glowing brightly, "my darling, my light."

a warm rush surges through you, as you're imbued with pure adoration. you love for him overtakes you, overwhelms you, and even as simple as staring into his eyes becomes heavy with meaning. you're not just staring at seonghwa, you're taking in the regal beauty of the man you fell in love with. he's not just a beautiful person, but the perfect synthesis of human and dragonborn. everything he's viewed as an imperfection, the patches of silver scales, the reptilian cobalt of his eyes, the sharpness of his teeth, all of that only adds to the perfect portrait of who he is, of who you love. as you ruminate, your entire body is infused in an aura of light so bright it's almost blinding, but he's always been able to withstand your luminence. a golden radiance illuminates from within, dispelling both shadows and starlight alike. he pauses, in awe of the vision of divinity before him, watching the way that golden light brightens your skin and highlights the gleam in your eyes. the darkness in the room has completely dissipated, leaving only the mystical light that emits from you. you've always been beautiful in his eyes, but now, seeing how radiant your naked form looks imbued by your heavenly glow, you're downright ethereal.

"i've devoted to you too, my paladin, my dragon prince." is your clandestine confession, as if wanting to ensure that not even the morninglord you serve can hear you. your words are for seonghwa, and him alone.

his breath hitches at your words, his cock twitching within you. you've likened him to royalty before, but now, bathing in your holy light, he truly believes it. in this moment, his proximity to dragons and his holy oath to the dragon god of justice don't grant him his sacred power, you do. you have cast your divine favor on him, and when you start to move your hips once more, the pleasure you give him makes him ascend.

you roll your hips in tandem, moving at the same pace in pursuit of pleasure. you move together as one, breathing as one, hearts beating as one, cores pulsing as one. you ripple around him right as he throbs within you, and it's not long before his thick knot slips past your entrance and you feel him completely. you feel yourself getting closer, moving faster and faster as his cock grinds deep inside you. overwhelmed with pleasure you pant out whiny moans, moans that he's all too eager to let you muffle with his mouth. you hear his deep groans resonating in your mind as he grabs hold of you, one arm wrapping around you, while his other hand cradle the back of your head. returning his intimate embrace, you wrap your arms around him, press your chest to his, and follow him into bliss as you both reach your peak. he tenses, gripping you tighter as he cums, his entire body shuddering with the force of his climax. a deep growl rumbles in his throat, and you hear the roar-like intensity reverberate in your mind. spurts of hot cum shoot deep inside you in seemingly endless streams, wave after wave of release flooding you from the inside, and his throbbing knot keeps every drop of release within you. he gives himself to you, completely, letting you have every drop of his essence and letting you feel every bit of his ecstasy, as if offering tribute to a deity. his huge cock pulses with every fiery surge of liquid pleasure, and the light you emit glows even brighter at the sensation, more than pleased with his reverent offering. his hips cant up and press against yours, and the look of ardent adoration he gives you says it all; he's yours, completely, and with your orgasm you give yourself to him in kind.

[bubble-leaves]

Your Cooking Expertise - Reth x Reader

When you first moved to Kilima, Reth was so ready to show off his skills and impress you, the new human on the block. And, bless his heart, he thought he was so cool. I mean, you seemed to enjoy his world famous soups! He felt on top of the world being able to impress someone that knew nothing about him.

. . . until he learned that you were highly experienced with cooking.

Reth's eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he first saw you bring him a gift of pan-seared scallops. He was so pissed; it tasted delicious. And it got even worse, as you started a habit of bringing him morsels of dishes you were working on perfecting. Eventually, Reth became so intrigued and so jealous that he finally asked if you could teach him some of the basics of your fancy cooking. Which leads us to the present.

Reth stands in the inn kitchen. The inn is closed and empty, apart from Ashura packing up his things for the night. Reth leans against one of the counters, biting his nails as he awaits your arrival. His mind is sifting through all the terrible ways he could embarrass himself in front of you. Asking for your help was embarrassing enough, but what if he spills something and ruins the dish you two were going to make tonight? What if he accidentally cuts himself when chopping produce? Oh Dragon, what if he suddenly sneezes in front of the food?

His face is a shade of deep pink as he pictures several ways he could ruin how you think of him. Just as he's nearly consumed with doubt, your footsteps approach the kitchen entryway. Reth's heart leaps as he takes one look to his left and sees you in the arched entrance. You have a hand on your hip, simultaneously carrying a rattan basket, and a smile on your face.

"Nervous?" You ask.

Reth flashes his handsome award-winning smile and waves his hand dismissively. "Nah! Why would - what gave you that impression?"

"The nail biting. Now you have to go wash your hands," You chuckled, "Wah wah."

Reth paused, then flushed in embarrassment. Yep, first screw up complete.

"Oh, great. I'm on a roll with this fancy cooking biz," Reth sarcastically says, before looking up at you to add, "If you wanna hire me as your head chef at your culinary empire now, you can have all my details."

You laugh as he turns to the sink to wash his hands. He smiles genuinely as he listens to the sound. Your laugh makes him feel so much better, in an instant, like audible morphine.

Reth notices you placing items on the prep counter, each one being taken out from your basket. He finishes drying his hands to investigate. He comes close to see what the ingredients all are. With this distance, you could smell a delightful musk of spices and woodsiness eminating from him. It makes your heart skip a beat, yet you remain calm and act like all is natural.

"Huh. What — HOLY DRAGON," Reth shouts as you suddenly retrieve an expensive sernuk tenderloin from the basket.

You look up at him with raised brows, surprised by his volume. His mouth hangs open as he stares at the sernuk, trying to comprehend how he's possibly allowed to be near such a luxurious cut of meat.

"Wait-waaaait a minute, sweet tooth, that is way out of territory for me," Reth declares.

"You'll do fine," You assure with a gentle laugh.

You place the cut of meat upon a cutting board then reach for the knife rack, simply moving forward. Meanwhile, after a brief pause to comprehend what you said, sparkles fill Reth's eyes. Hearing someone as experienced as you say he'll succeed makes his heart pound. He looks at your face, studying its expression with awe. Damn. You're amazing. Oh, he's so screwed.

"You know, you have a lot of guts to trust me with something like this," Reth chuckles.

"Reth, stop that, I'd trust you with anything," You say with a smile, chastisingly swatting his arm. "Now, c'mon, this is an easy stuffed tenderloin. Slice it open for me."

"Oh, this is the end," Reth dramatically says, taking the knife you carefully hand him.

You ignore his doubts this time and lock into the recipe. You instruct, "Make a three-quarter slice down the middle."

"Bold of you to assume I know fractions," Reth quips before doing as you say.

While he makes a precise cut, you go over to the gas range stove and set the oven to preheat at a precise temperature. You then turn back to Reth, who already has a feeling about the next step.

"Guessing this part includes the salt and pepper you brought," Reth says, "You think I didn't have salt and pep, sweet tooth? I swear I'm not that incompetent!"

You laugh and shove his arm a little. "I bring every ingredient needed just because I can! Plus, you don't have to waste product, right?"

Reth makes an agreeable face and shrugs, simultaneously seasoning the sernuk. "Didn't think about that. Now I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," You say, multi-tasking just as he was.

You got out a chopping board from a nearby cabinet and moved a medium-sized cube of cheese onto it. Reth raises a brow.

"What kind of cheese is that?" He asks.

"Manchego," You reply, retrieving a knife.

He cocks his head. "Never heard of it. Is it some kind of fancy rich people cheese?"

"Ehhh," You shrug. "Not really. It's just uncommon in every day cooking."

You slice thin sheets of the cheese and lay them flat along the cut of the meat. Again, Reth has the correct intuition of what comes next.

"And this is where the sage comes in, huh?" He asks.

"You got it. See, this isn't hard at all for you, right?" You say, looking over to him with an encouraging smile.

Reth feels his face get a little warm as he looks back at you. He can't believe how well you treat him despite what he's known for around here.

He lags a bit, then smiles back and says, "I just have a good teacher."

You softly chuckle, and for a moment he swore he saw you shift your lips to the side to hide any flustering. He doesn't bring it up, though, and simply retrieves the sage with a suddenly smug smile. Subtle flirting just does that to him.

"Oh, and don't use both sprigs, just use one," You quickly advise.

Reth replies with a quick "gotcha" before scattering the leaves of a sage spring along the sernuk. You're pleased with the even coating, and Reth sees it in your eyes, which shows clear satisfaction. He feels so in control, suddenly, like he actually knows what he's doing.

"Perfect," You praise, sending his heart in a whirl. "Now, could you get me the string in there?"

Quickly recovering from hearing that first word, Reth raises a brow and gets a spool of string out of your basket.

"Okay, officially confused. Is this the part where we sew 'live, laugh, love'?" Reth asks with an amused hum.

A loud cackle escapes your mouth, the sound making Reth's grin double. He motions his hands outward in a manner that signifies asking a question.

You giggle, "No, goofball, we roll up the tenderloin and tie it inch by inch so it won't unroll in the oven."

"Ohhh, gotcha, that was my second guess," Reth muses. "Also, 'goofball'? Is that my new nickname, sweet tooth?"

Once again, you lightly shove his shoulder, your cheeks feeling hot. "Now it is."

Reth smirks, as he knows you're starting to get bashful, just a little bit. He hasn't seen that from you before, you're usually incredibly confident and he's usually the one who seemed flustered by you. He likes the turned tables. Alas, you don't let him bask in the moment for too long. You readjust your posture and put back on a regular façade. Reth refrains from pouting; he listens for your next instructions.

You clear your throat and say, "Okay. Get the roasting tray. Sprinkle — "

"The other sage sprig and this thyme here?" Reth finishes with an uprising tone.

"Yes," You smile, then motion to the tenderloin. "I'll tie this up."

Reth does as you say. You both go into a spell of silence to do your tasks, but since Reth's takes less time, he's left to watch you complete yours. He watches as you tie the tenderloin in evenly spaced intervals. Then, of course, he gets bored and feels the need to chitchat again.

"Hm. I never asked, what are we gonna do with the 'loin when it's completely finished? Do we take it home for friends and family or do we have a little date?" Reth asks.

He sees you do that lip thing again; it must be a habit when you're feeling shy. How cute!

"Uh . . . well, I didn't really think that far, for some reason," You say with a subtly embarrassed chuckle.

"Can I give a suggestion?" Reth asks further, leaning upon the counter with his arms crossed to look at you.

Your face feels hot as he stares at you. He doesn't get an answer to his question, as you had just finished tying the protein.

"Could you get me the olive oil?" You request, pretending that you didn't hear his insinuating question.

Reth narrowed his eyes humorously and nodded his head. “Oh, I see. We’re just gonna have to find out, then.”

He hands you the olive oil, watching you simmer in your own fluster with a smirk. You drizzle some of the oil on the meat, looking at it like you’re asking it to help you out of this sudden shift of atmosphere. Reth glances away from you to look at the remaining ingredient, which is the last sprig of sage. Looking for one last chance to help out, he reaches out for the herb. However, at the last second, you also reached for it. Your hands accidentally make one brisk touch, before simultaneously pulling away.

It’s quiet. Reth looks at you with concern and a hint of curiosity. He worries about how forward he may have been, even if it was accidental. You look like you’re swallowing your words, he can see.

“I’m sorry,” You simply say.

Reth smiles. “It’s fine, no worries. It’s just sage, right?”

You sigh. “Uh, yeah. If you can sprinkle that on, that’d be great . . . oh, what is wrong with me?”

“Huh?” He asks as he cocks a brow.

Reth suddenly notices your face is flushed with color, making both his brows raise in surprise. Your hand rests over your heart wearily as you breathe.

“Aha . . . hold on, let’s just get this in the oven first,” You say.

“(Y/n), you better not peki out about telling me what’s goin’ on,” Reth replies, stepping over to the oven but keeping his eyes on you.

You shook your head. “I’m not, please; I’m just wanting to cook this tenderloin. Open the door.”

He hums a sassy, unconvinced “mmm-hm” and opens the oven door. A wave of heat billows out and he chokes and leans away. You laugh and make it quick as you slide the trayed tenderloin into the oven. You push it to the center before retracting your hands. Reth closes the door immediately after. He’s onto you immediately, too. As you set the timer, his interrogation starts.

“Kay, now, what did I do?” He asks.

“Oh, you didn’t do anything,” You chuckle with a tinge of anxiety. “It was just me.”

His eyes narrow suspiciously, although still playfully spirited. Feeling pressured, you give up more information to satisfy those eyes.

“My heart is just beating very fast,” You say with another laugh, this one sounding breathless and shallow.

That makes Reth’s own heart skip a beat. He’s doing all this to you? Huh. He may be more capable than he thought when it comes to flustering you.

He tilts his head. “My bad, my bad. Do I do that to you often?”

You blink and ponder on that. Your heart palpitations are lesser when you and him are in a room with other people, but you realize that this has only ever happened when you were alone with him.

After brief hesitation, you admit, “Only when no one else is around but me and you.”

Reth stares with complete shock while you bite your cheek in thought. It took him a second for him to process that you basically just confessed your feelings, but now that it’s hit him, he has even more questions.

“...me? Why?” He asks in a voice quieter than usual.

“Why?!” You repeat with passion, making him slightly jump.

You both are completely flushed in the face, hearts beating quick. He has so much he wants to blurt out with passion too, but he waits for you to go first.

“Reth, every time you get close to me or subtly flirt or compliment me or do anything when we’re alone, I get so bashful, I have to find a way to leave immediately,” You confess completely. “But seeing as I can’t leave mid-cook session, I’m . . . agh. I’m just . . .”

Reth’s lips are awkwardly pursed and his eyes are big. He didn’t exactly expect tonight to turn into a confession. He rarely ever saw you this vulnerable, maybe only once or twice. Right now, he can see how conflicted you feel, and hear your soft, deep breaths. He rescues you from the silence.

“Well. Um. I . . . honestly did not expect you to actually share any sort of feeling for me,” Reth suddenly confesses also.

Your eyes, once gazing to the floor, shoot up at him. “Wha — what?”

A soft laugh escapes his lips. “(Y/n), why do you think I act the way I do around you? You’re awesome; you’re so talented and so funny and so sweet and so tolerable of me, for some reason. Like, how could I not . . . y’know . . .”

Reth averts his eyes for a second then looks back with admiration. He sees your face swiftly display relief, which makes him relax too. You both stare at each other for a second, maybe a little too longingly too soon, but you didn't care. You feel the weight and tension graciously lift off your shoulders, as does Reth. The atmosphere feels light and airy, as if anything could happen, as if anything is possible right now.

“Why didn’t you just tell me, though? That I was making you feel like that?” Reth asks.

You lift a hand up before letting it fall back to your leg, as if to say ‘I don’t know.’

“I don’t really know what your stance on relationships is or whatever. Plus, we’re good friends, I wouldn’t wanna ruin it,” You frown.

Reth scoffs as if you said something completely nonsensical. “You really think that I’d just give you the boot? I mean, jeez, sweet tooth, I know I’m a career criminal, but I’m not heartless.”

You chuckle, “True.”

“Plus, I know for a fact that I’m not heartless because I feel the same tussle going on in my heart that you do,” He adds.

“Ah . . . you mean that?” You ask.

Reth’s eyes close halfway and he smirks. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Unless it was funny.”

You roll your eyes but smile widely. Your spirit feels so alive. Being so open with Reth about your feelings with him feels surreal, like a dream, especially due to his reciprocation. He was into you, too.

“Um . . . I’m still up to wine and dine over our fancy-schmancy sernuk,” Reth offers. “If you’d like that too, of course, you don’t have to — ”

You cut him off before he talked himself into a rabbit hole of doubt. “I’d love to.”

Reth processes your interruption, then smiles. “Ugh, you’re so amazing. Should we set up a table in the inn, then? I got fancy cutlery just for this special occasion!”

You laugh and nod your head. “Sure. I’ll keep you in check so nothing gets broken.”

“Ruuude,” Reth playfully drawls. “You’re probably right, though.”

-

The night ends with you and Reth chatting and laughing at a pristinely decorated table. There’s a luxurious tablecloth, folded napkins, shiny cutlery, and even an atmospheric candle between you two. Reth really goes all out to make this night seem like a high-class restaurant experience for you. You both have a cut of the cooked sernuk tenderloin on your porcelain plates. Although it wasn’t soup, Reth is obsessed with his meal. He is secretly proud of himself for how this night went. Reth managed to cook an excellent protein with you, somehow get a confession out of you that he reciprocated, and now he’s sitting across from you, watching you smile and laugh and enjoy the fruits of your labor. He could get used to seeing you so happy like this, but privately. Reth likes being alone with you, he realizes. You show him a side of you that you don’t show anyone else, and for some reason, it feels so right. He wants you to be that comfortable around him that you just let go and be yourself, he wants to be that safe space for you. Reth doesn’t know what the future holds, though. All he can do in this present moment is just laugh, crack jokes, and keep making your heart race for him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Bloom 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That’s until you meet a certain flower seller.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Note: It’s suiting that it's hump day cause I feel like cole is into that.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You slice into a cucumber, moving the knife carefully. As you focus on the task, you notice Aunt Bev’s glances. Are they intentional or is she concerned? You keep the blade steady and slow, sure not to catch your fingertips. 

“Hon, did you want to borrow one of my skirts for dinner?” She offers. 

You look down at yourself. You think the jeans and tee are just fine but now you’re doubting yourself. You blink at her and shrug. 

“Should I?” 

“It’s up to you, of course. Just whatever you’re comfortable in. I just have this nice blue flowery one and it suits you better.” 

“Well, I...” you put the knife down and gather up the cucumber in your hands, dumping it onto the bowl of lettuce, “I could try it on.” 

You grab the dish rag and wipe your hands. You just want to make her happy. You never had someone like Aunt Bev, someone who is happy over the smallest things. She makes everything you do seem like some great achievement. 

“Oh, come on, it’ll be nice,” she insists and gestures you down the hall, “in here.” 

You follow her upstairs to the bedroom she shares with your uncle. She rolls open her closet as she hums. She pulls out a wrap skirt; blue petals on white. 

“You’ll need a shirt to go with it,” she insists, “one sec.” 

She hands you the skirt and turns to sift through a dresser draw. She pulls out a plain chiffon blouse with a little scallop at the bottom. “It will go nicely.” 

“Thanks, uh, but what... what if I spill?” 

“That’s okay, honey,” she holds out the shirt, “you can keep them. They’ll look much better on you.” 

“Oh, uh,” you look down then up again. 

“You just get changed,” she sweeps past you, “I’ll be downstairs.” 

You can’t deny her. The door closes before you can even think of changing your mind. It would be rude to say no anyway. They’re such nice clothes. You look down at what you’re wearing and crumple inside. You made the wrong choice again. You should’ve known to dress up for company. 

You change as quickly as you can. You carry your clothes back downstairs and into the small room you’ve been allotted. It was once Aunt Bev’s craft room. You feel bad about that too. 

You return to the kitchen. She’s not there. You rinse some cherry tomatoes and quarter them on the wooden cutting board. As you do, you hear voices. 

Aunt Bev strolls in as Cole follows her. You don’t turn to see. You’re too shy. You hope he doesn’t even notice you. 

“Oh, honey, you look lovely,” she chimes as she nears the counter and sets down a round pan, “isn’t it wonderful, Cole brought dessert.” 

“Ma sent a pie,” he explains, “do you like rhubarb?” 

You want for Aunt Bev to answer. She doesn’t. You look up and over and realise they’re watching you. Oh. 

“Uh, I never had it.” 

“Never had rhubarb?” Cole blusters, “well good news, my ma makes the best strawberry rhubarb crumble.” 

“Um, oh, thanks,” you try to smile but your lips just strain tightly over your teeth. You turn back to the counter and add the tomatoes to the bowl. 

“Salad looks yummy. Very colourful,” he comes closer. He’s so tall you can’t help but shrink down. “Bev’s right, that’s a really nice skirt. Suits you.” 

“Thanks,” you cheep. 

“Can I help with anything?” He offers. 

You look around him at Aunt Bev. She smiles and gestures as if to say, ‘go on’. You turn back to the cutting board and lay the knife down. 

“I’m almost done,” you say, “no thank you.” 

“Well, when you’re done, honey, why don’t you show him the garden?” Bev suggests, “she has really livened it up, you know? She spends hours out there.” 

“I’m sure. I’m excited to see it,” Cole agrees as he lingers close by, “nice house. Cozy.” 

“Ah, you know, we try to make it home,” your aunt preens. “I didn’t even say how nice you look. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tie.” 

“Shucks,” he waves her off as he leans on the counter right next to your work space. 

You go to the fridge to get the container of feta and come back to sprinkle it over the salad. 

“Smells delicious too. Did you cook all this?” Cole asks as he looks down at you. 

“No,” you shake your head, “just the salad.” 

“She’s a good helper,” Bev beams and nears, taking the bowl from in front of you, “I’ll just go set this out on the patio table, why don’t you two go check out the garden?” 

“I’d love to,” Cole stands straight, “ladies.” 

He waves ahead of him and you hesitate. You pause to put the feta away then follow Bev towards the sliding doors. She goes out onto the deck and plants the large bowl on the wooden table. She stays there as you drag your feet past. You do your best to keep moving as you feel Cole getting too close. 

You go down the steps, nearly stumbling at the bottom. You cross your arms as you approach the garden where daffodils stand tally among the pansies. He puts his hands on his hips as he steps up. His blue eyes rove over the foliage as he peruses it thoughtfully. 

You peek over at him. He wears pale khakis and a grey button up rolled to his elbows, a trim of teal along the buttons. He wears a tie in a darker shade of grey as his hair is even fluffier than the last time you saw him. You shy away before he can catch you. 

“Wow, it’s so nice, and the placement is wonderful. Great for crossbreeding,” he points around. “You know a lot about plants?” 

“I read,” you say. “Library books. Aunt Bev brings them home.” 

“I love the library,” he chirps. 

“Oh, I don’t... I haven’t gone.” 

“Yet,” he insists, “one day, I’m sure.” 

You nod and fold your arms. You sway and search the grass. He kneels by the edge of the garden and touches a leaf. 

“What happened to your daylilies?” He asks. 

You bounce on your toes, “put them in my room.” 

“Really? You must have petals all over,” he chuckles as he continues to rustle the plants, feeling each one. “Do you have a favourite?” 

“I don’t know, they’re all pretty.” 

You nibble your lip. He talks a lot. He makes you talk a lot. You sniff and squeeze your arms. 

“Don’t get lost out there,” Aunt Bev startles you as she calls from the deck, “I’m about to bring the rest of the food out.” 

“Ah, thanks, Beverly,” Cole waves at her and smiles, turning to look at you, “shall we?” 

“Okay,” you don’t move. He doesn’t either. 

“You go first,” he says. 

You do as he says and he follows. The skirt flutters around your legs, swirling in a way that tickles the back of your knees. You’re not used to it. You never really wore one before.  

As you come up on the deck, he trails you toward the table. He sidles past you and pulls out a chair before you can do it yourself. He opens his hand to the seat, “please.” 

“Uh, thanks, you don’t have to...” 

“My ma always taught me manners,” he assures. 

You sit and he slides the chair toward the table, trapping you in it. He claims the one next to you, his elbow almost on the armrest of yours. You make yourself small. You’re really good at that. You miss when you could be invisible. 

Bev appears again, a long pare of tongs in her hand. She approaches the roiling BBQ and opens it up. As she turns the drumsticks, she smiles over at the table. 

“Don’t you two look ready to eat,” she trills. “I just told the others to come out and get a plate. Just gotta get this chicken and the potatoes.” 

She uses the tongs to transfer the drumsticks to a large serving plate. Cole clears his throat and gets up. He goes to take it from her and brings it to the table. 

“You are just the biggest, sweetheart,” she grins, “your mother must be so proud. Such a lucky lady.” 

“I do what I can,” he says, “don’t want you to burn yourself.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry about me. You do too much of that,” she removes the wrapped potatoes from the grill next, “I can’t thank you enough for helping us last weekend.” 

“Really, it’s fine. It was a very busy weekend,” he meets her again to take the next tray, “I can tell a lost soul when I see one. I figured it was best to get her out of the tide before it swallowed her up. Sometimes I even get overwhelmed.” 

“It really was so amazing,” she insists, “we got more than enough. You make sure you take leftovers for your mother. She sent that lovely pie.” 

“Sure,” he agrees easily as he sets down the potatoes. He sits down once more, further crowding you. Is he that big or that oblivious. “She’s a nice girl,” he peers over at you and you look at the table, “I couldn’t just let her get lost.” He turns slightly in his chair, towards you, “I hope it didn’t scare you away. I have some new stuff I’m bringing next week; thought maybe you’d like to see.” 

“Oh, you know that would be so lovely, honey.” 

“If that’s too much,” Cole leans his elbow on the arm rest and extends his fingers as he speaks, “she could come up and see them at the farm. Right in their natural habitat.” 

“The farm?” Bev exclaims, “how exciting.” 

“Of course, you’re all welcome to come up and see. My ma loves having a full house but my sister never comes around anymore and it was only ever the two of us. She always wanted more but, ah, you know?” 

“That’s too bad,” Bev says, “but that would be so wonderful. Honey, wouldn’t you like to go see all his flowers?” 

“I could use some help potting too, if you have a set of hands to spare,” he suggests. “Not that I’m looking for free labour, I just... figured.” 

“We’d love to help out, wouldn’t we, honey?” 

That’s it. She’s given the answer for you. You can’t disagree with her or you’d be mean. You’re not a mean person. Not like she always said you were. 

“Sure,” you murmur. 

“We’ll make a day of it,” she sings, “just let me know when.” 

“Will do,” Cole says brightly. “Sorry, I’m a dweeb about these things. I don’t really meet a lot of people who like flowers as much as me.” 

“We can all use friends,” Bev goes to the sliding door and pushes it open, “right, hon?” You nod, choked of your voice and she sighs as she pokes her head inside, “where is everyone?” 

🌷

You help clear the table after dinner. You sit down as Cole gets up and you’re relieved to be on your own. The others sit on the other side of the table; Uncle Morris along with your cousins, Mason and Lena. The latter two are on their phones and Uncle Morris chews on toothpick. 

You’re content enough to watch the clouds in the sky. Aunt Bev is so good at keeping things lively but you never know what to say. You don’t really feel safe around anyone but her. She’s the one who found you, who helped you. 

You look down at your hands and the faded welts. There’s more up your forearms and on your legs. They are almost indiscernible, though a few are stark enough to be picked out. You rub your hands together, as if you might wipe them away. Some memories are wrought as much into your skin as your mind. 

The sliding door opens and your Uncle Morris sits up and pats his stomach, “ah, about time. Dessert! The best part of dinner.” 

Bev and Cole dole out the saucers. Yours is placed before you as he sits next to you again. You take your fork and spin it nervously. Morris is quick to dig in as your aunt asks Mason and Lena about school. Their conversation edges you out, but you’re used to that. You prefer it. You never have much to add. 

“You gonna try it?” Cole keeps his voice low as he pokes at his crumble. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you scoop up some of the reddish pink goop and oats. 

“You have to tell me the truth, if you like the rhubarb. I gotta report back to ma.” 

You nod and take a bite. You don’t like how he watches. It makes you self-conscious. His eyes linger on your hand as you slid the fork from your mouth and chew the tart dessert. Your cheeks pinch and you swallow tightly. You like it. 

“Well?” He nudges you and you wince. “Oh, sorry, are you okay? Was that too hard?” 

“No, I... I liked it,” you put the fork down and try to hide your arms. They’re oversensitive. Most of you is; just brushing against furniture can make you whimper. “Thank you.” 

“Told you, ma makes the best,” he proclaims, but a vee of worry remains between his brows, “you sure I didn’t hurt you?” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” you insist. You have to act normal. 

You grab your fork and take another bite. He continues to watch you, moving the crumble around as he does. You wish he'd stop looking so much. 

“Oh, wow, did that hurt?” He points to the back of your hand. That one scar that stands out. 

“No,” you lie. 

“What happened?” 

You shake your head, “nothing.” 

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you hiss and drop your fork. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“I’m not upset,” your eyes well and you flick your lashes. Your hand throbs. You hear the snap of the switch, you feel it against your tendons. You want to scream but you can’t. “I’m fine, I’m fine...” 

“I...” Cole babbles and looks around. The table is silent as you gulp for air. 

“Oh, hon,” Aunt Bev gets up and comes around to your chair, “have some water, alright?” 

“I didn’t... I don’t know what I did,” Cole stutters. 

“It’s not you, sweetie,” Bev pets your hair as she offers the glass of water. “She’s okay. She was out in the sun today, she gets a bit faint.” 

You want to cry even more. Not just for the embarrassment. Because you’re grateful. Because she lies so easily for you. She protects you like no one else ever has. 

“Can I go inside?” You whisper. 

“Sure, hon, I’ll put your dessert aside for you,” she smiles.