#sometimes you just start talking less and less

[lxvebun]

heart shaped kisses (LaDS edition)

synopsis: kisses/How they kiss you

buns notes: I'm pretty new to the game and I'm aware there are kissing cards already, this is just my version of it🫶 guess my fav lol

content : Zayne/Caleb/Sylus x gender neutral reader. Reader is not mc. Fluff. Slightly suggestive. Lovesick!Caleb my beloved. Forehead kisses. Neck kisses. Eng is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes<3 around 800 words♡

Heartshaped kisses m.list (multifandom)

୨ৎ Zayne

Despite his cold exterior (or evol), Zayne's kisses are incredibly warm. It's almost as if you're being kissed by a beam of sunlight on an icy winter's day. His kisses are gentle, soothing, and all too easy to melt into. Does he really expect you not to pull him a little closer and keep him with you for just a little longer if this is how he decides to kiss you goodbye in the morning?

His glasses have long been discarded after fogging up the pretty sight of you, and his once-neat button-up is now wrinkled. You're afraid Dr. Zayne may be slightly late for work.

Then again, his alarm did go off a little earlier than usual today.....how odd.

୨ৎCaleb

Ugh this man. I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Give him to meeee

He knows what he's doing... Looking at you so tenderly as you talk about your day, eyes soft and admiring, darting from your gaze to your lips and back. He's listening, he is! But every syllable leaving your lips, the sound of your voice so melodic in his ears, makes it hard for him to concentrate. His hands itch to make their way to your waist and pull you into him, his mind already getting a little foggy in a mist of hearts and flowers. He never really asks you to give him a kiss; you've just learned to pick up on his incredibly non-subtle hints. And truly, it would be cruel to resist, no?

But he's as sweet as he is annoying because the moment you lean in, he pulls away. He fixes his posture, stands up to his full height, and looks down at you with this stupidly handsome smirk. He chuckles a little as you roll your eyes at him and sigh. You know what he wants; he knows it's coming. You can tell by the glimmer in his eyes, bordering on giddiness. He likes it when you pull him down by his necklace to meet you in a kiss<3 so curling your fingers around the delicate silver metal, you're barely even pulling as he's already starting to lean down to capture your lips in a sickeningly sweet kiss~♡

Caleb's kisses are passionate. An overwhelming amount of Devotion bordering on reverence bleed into every kiss. Marking a trail from your lips to the softness of your jaw, down to the pulse point in your neck, lingering there before kissing his way back to your lips. Frenzied, it sometimes feels like he craves you more than the air he needs to breathe. Should it scare you? Maybe. But the sweetness of the silent "I love you's" pouring out through breathless kisses and little love nibbles is enough to distract you from the sharpness of his teeth as they near your pulse and the way his hands seem to sink into your skin, a little too rough, a little too desperate for there to be nothing behind it.

୨ৎSylus

"A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism."

You're reminded of this quote every time Sylus kisses you. Feverish. Hungry. Truly, it feels like he's trying to devour you whole in the sweetest ways possible, desperately trying to let some part of him linger on you, melt into you, and become one with the blood flowing through your veins. Trying to burn a permanent place into your body, heart and soul, so you could never, ever forget him.

However, he has his softer moments—kisses that are no less passionate and feverish, but a whole lot calmer. No hitched breaths, no clashing teeth. It's sweet kisses to your cheek whenever you walk past, pressing a few extra here and there as he cradles your face, rubbing comforting circles into your jaw with his thumb before releasing you and letting you get back to what you were originally doing.

And It's soft forehead kisses as you sleep when the slight frown on your face tells him you're having a nightmare. He smooths out the furrow in your brow before pressing his lips there, hoping the kisses trancends into your dream, acting as some sort of protective shield against whatever monster your mind decided to conjure up. He hopes it looks nothing like him.

[gf2bellamy]

ouugh. post prison Spencer and reader who he was already dating pre prison... after he gets out he's afraid he's not good enough for r anymore because he did what he had to do in prison... oughh.. and he starts pulling away from r and they reassure him that he did nothing wrong and they still love him no matter what...

just a thought since i saw ur post about post prison Spencer :)

no pressure to write anything based on this i just wanted to share my thought!!

-🪲

changed — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer distancing himself from reader , kind of emotional a/n: hiii !!i hope this is what you asked for !!

You weren’t entirely sure what to do anymore.

Spencer had been pulling away from you, and it was breaking your heart piece by piece.

At first, you told yourself it was normal—an expected reaction to the months he had spent in prison. The trauma of that experience was something you couldn’t fully understand, but you had tried to be patient, to give him the space and support he needed to heal.

The first few days after his release had been okay—better than okay, even.

Spencer had clung to you like you were his lifeline, hugging you tightly at random moments, his face buried in your shoulder as he whispered how much he had missed you, how much he loved you.

Those moments had been bittersweet, filled with relief that he was finally home. You had held him just as tightly, trying to reassure him that he was safe now, that you were here and you weren’t going anywhere. 

But then, slowly, things began to change. It was subtle at first, so subtle that you almost convinced yourself you were imagining it.

Spencer’s hugs became shorter, less frequent. He started talking about himself in ways that made your chest tighten—little comments here and there that were tinged with self-doubt, as if he didn’t believe he deserved the life he had come back to. 

“I don’t know why you even waited for me,” he had muttered one evening, his voice quiet. You had tried to reassure him, but you weren't sure if you had been successful.

At night, it took him longer to come to bed. He would linger in the living room, staring at nothing, or sit at the kitchen table with a book he wasn’t really reading. When he finally did join you, he would lie stiffly on his side of the bed, as if he were afraid to touch you.

And then there were the looks. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, his gaze distant and unfocused, his eyes holding a sadness that made your chest ache.But the moment he realized you had noticed, he would look away, his expression shuttering as if he were trying to hide something from you.

It was those moments that hurt the most—the way he seemed to retreat into himself, as if he didn’t believe he deserved to be close to you anymore. 

One day, the two of you were sitting on the couch, the TV playing some documentary Spencer had chosen but neither of you were really paying attention to.

You were tired and without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder. It was a small gesture, something you’d done a hundred times before, but this time, you felt him stiffen slightly under your touch. 

You pulled back immediately, your stomach twisting.

The reaction was small, barely noticeable to anyone else—but to you, it might as well have been a knife to the chest.

You reached over his lap to grab the remote from his side, your movements quick and a little clumsy, and turned off the TV. The sudden silence in the room felt heavy, almost suffocating. You turned to face Spencer, who looked at you with a slightly surprised expression, his eyebrows furrowed. 

For a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes searching his. And then you saw it again—that distant, sad look in his eyes, the one he always tried to hide from you.

It was like a dam breaking inside you, all the worry and frustration and love you’d been holding back spilling out at once. 

 “We need to talk,” you mumbled as you turned your body more toward him, tucking one leg under you so you could face him fully. 

Spencer blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to something more guarded.

“About what?” he asked, his tone careful, almost hesitant. As he spoke, he pulled his legs slightly away, creating more space between you so that your knees weren’t touching anymore. 

Your heart cracked.

You pointed at the space he had just created, your hand trembling slightly. “That,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “This. Everything. Are you okay?” 

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded. Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket draped over the couch.

His silence only made your chest tighten more, the worry you’d been carrying for weeks bubbling to the surface. 

“Spencer,” you said gently, reaching out to touch his arm. He didn’t pull away this time, but he didn’t look at you either. “Please talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” 

He let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. 

“Do what?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent, your eyes searching his for answers you desperately needed. 

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His hand dropped limply to his lap, and he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping.

“Us. I… I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be anymore.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he brushed a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion and guilt that seemed to cling to him. 

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him that he was exactly who you needed, but he kept talking, his words spilling out in a rush, as if he’d been holding them back for too long.

“You just… you need someone—” He paused, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right word. “Better. Someone who didn’t do the things I did, who isn’t… me.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, his eyes fixed on his hands as they twisted nervously in his lap. 

Your heart ached at his words, at the way he spoke about himself. “Spencer—” you started, but he cut you off, his voice trembling as he finally met your eyes. 

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and filled with so much emotion it made your chest tighten. “Too much,” he added, his voice breaking. “But I’m not the same anymore. I don’t know how to be the person I was before, and I don’t know if I can ever be that person again.” 

Tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him, your heart breaking for the man you loved more than anything.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice steady despite the tear that slipped down your cheek. “You don’t have to be the person you were before. You just have to be you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

He shook his head, his eyes filled with doubt. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I’m not… I’m not good for you anymore. I’m not the person you fell in love with.” 

“Yes, you are,” you said fiercely, your voice rising slightly as you leaned closer to him. “You’re still Spencer Reid. You’re still the man who loves me, who makes me laugh, who knows more random facts than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re still the man who held me together when I fell apart, who stayed by my side no matter what. You’re still you, Spencer. And I love you. Not who you were, not who you think you should be. Just you.” 

He stared at you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. And then, slowly, he reached out, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be okay again.” 

“You don’t have to fix it alone,” you said, your voice shaky. “We’ll figure it out together. That’s what we do, remember? We’re a team.” 

Spencer’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to find the truth in your words.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. 

“Yes, you do,” you said firmly, your hands cupping his face. “You always have.” 

You pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly as if you could somehow transfer all the love and reassurance you felt into him. And for the first time in weeks, he hugged you back just as tightly, his face buried in your shoulder as he let out a shaky breath. 

[kaisaerinlover]

vampire sae

tw: blood obv

itoshi sae as your weird half-vampire boyfriend. he loves the taste of your blood, so sweet. like sugar. so delicious. you’re a great catch and he’s lucky he plucked you up right when he did; perfect and ripe for the picking.

but he does love you (even though sometimes you feel like he just wants you for your blood), he really does love you a lot. even when he bites at you so deeply with a hunger you’re sure you’ve only ever known wild animals to display, trying to get everything he can out of you. he’s usually one to savour his meals - not you though. you’re tantalising. there’s not enough words in the dictionary of any of the 3 languages he’s fluent in to be able to tell you just how fucking good you taste on the tip of his tongue, writhing underneath him. even when you’re simply sitting in the stands watching him play, god, he prays no one else is a creature like him; because if they could smell the sweet dainty scent of your insides, they would definitely try and steal you off of him. you’re the sole reason the midfielder tries so hard in his games. he’s undefeated, hell, he’s even gotten so impatient at his teammates for not playing well enough that he’s simply just gone to score goals himself. he is an undisputed champion - the best midfielder there’s ever going to be for a long while; but his motivation isn’t the fame, money or even legacy he knows the itoshi name will carry for years to come. no; it’s the pliant little snack he has sitting in the stalls all dolled up and dreading for the moment he gets her alone again ready to devour her whole.

you think he’s a greedy bastard, hell, he’ll drag you to the locker room and take you right there sometimes. you shudder at the memory of the last time that happened. gross; he had you pinned up inside of his locker as he sucked the everloving shit out of your neck and fucked so deep into you you were sure you wouldn’t make it out of there alive. you even begged him to turn you into a vampire too; you were absolutely convinced you would be a slumped over mess of cum and blood in the bottom of his locker by the time he’d finished having his way with you. he simply rolled his eyes and kissed you roughly, then shoved 2 fingers in your mouth and went right back to it. but hey, you didn’t die. that’s something at least.

you, begrudgingly, can admit that you love him too though. he has his charm, weird charm, weird nonchalant and non caring charm. it’s weird, but you enjoy it. his voice snaps you out of it. “hey, wanna go to the beach?” he backs you up against the wall as he asks this. it’s hard to think it through and give him a straight answer when he’s twirling your hair around his finger in a way that sends tingles down your spine. when he’s so close and licking his lips. he knows it too. that’s why he knows you’ll agree. and you do.

the sand feels nice against your feet and the smell of the sea is nice. you’re never quite sure what sae’s fixation on the beach is, maybe he’s a nostalgia merchant or something. you don’t pry in his private life; he likes that about you. you’re not nosey enough to intrude, but somehow know when he needs comforting. it’s not now though, you both know why you’re here. the beach is nicer at night - no one else is around to take you away from him, and it looks better (in sae’s opinion). he keeps you dressed up all dollish and sweet. white flowy clothes only, he won’t do any less for you. he likes the way it looks after he’s finished with you.

it’s hard to enjoy the beach when you’re waiting for what’s coming, scared of sae pouncing on you from behind. but he’d never do that, you know that too. don’t be paranoid. you lean into his touch and cling to him as he slowly pushes you down onto the sandy ground and starts kissing you gently. “you smell so good, wanna eat you so bad” sae talks in mumbles. so it’s a miracle you even heard him. he hates complimenting you too loudly, he cringes at his own words. but he knows deep down you deserve it. you deserve all the niceness for everything he forces you to go through, although he's not quite sure why you haven't left yet. he kept you captive at first; but now you're free to go. he's not exactly the most manipulative guy, so he is a little dumb to the fact you've probably just developed a learned dependency on him. you taste really good, he can smell your blood already and he hasn't even bitten down. he fucking loves it. it drives him insane. he's not sure if there's ever going to be a large enough quantity of it to quench his ravenous cravings for you. everything about you.

sae gets up to reposition himself closer to your nape, and the warm air of the beach just 10 minutes away from the hotel you're staying at is replaced by a considerably more bulky and muscular presence (itoshi sae of course), one that you know clicks with you like a missing piece of a puzzle more than you'd like to admit. you know what's coming, but you don't fight it anymore. sae sinks his teeth into your neck and lets out a low gutteral moan at the sensation of your dessert-esque blood entering his mouth. he's a clean guy usually, very well rounded, doesn't make trouble, good manners. a man of poise and grace. the mysterious guy that most girls would fantasise about in their wet dreams. but not here. he's a messy eater when it comes to your oh so sweet nectar that he can never seem to have enough of. his thirst for you is never satiated. you pant and whine a little in pain and his name passes your lips in a way you both know he loves to hear so dearly. "s-sae- hurts- slow down-" you choke out between sobs. he watches as droplets of your blood mix with the sand below. he likes the way it looks. he likes the way blood falls onto those stupidly elegant white dresses he always insists on you wearing. you look so pure still, even with your own essences running everywhere as he sucks you dry like always. but he's careful - he'd never want to harm you. he's greedy, but you are more important than his greed. he pulls back a bit and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. god, you're beautiful like this. arms next to your head looking all obedient like a stupid little fawn; some precious baby animal. all covered in the pretty red blood. he licks the wound and moves to kiss you. "love you, you taste so good baby" he whispers into your mouth before biting your tongue. you yelp as best you can but try to kiss him back.

itoshi sae is not a composed man when it comes to you, you think it's ironic how he's displayed in the media and in the eyes and hearts of teenage girls alike. because you know exactly how he is; he is a man who is quick to succumb to his desires. whether it's his greed, or the fact he (secretly) enjoys causing you pain just to elicit a reaction. he likes your squeals, likes how you're putty in his hands essentially. he knows he's completely in control, you're helpless. your dress is hitched up and you shiver a little as you feel the warm air get even closer to your core. spain is always warm, especially at night; but it's a comforting warmth. ironic to say since you're laying in your own blood as your boyfriend/vampire kidnapper moves your tiny white panties to the side and plunges 3 fingers straight into you whilst he bites at you anywhere he can. he nibbles your cheek and sucks it as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. your moans, they're almost as sweet as your blood on his tongue.

"p-please just fuck me" he likes when you beg. he knows what he's doing. he's calculated. he's not maliciously manipulative for the most part. but don't ever doubt that he's calculated. everything about him is meticulously planned. he only turns into a monster the same way the younger itoshi brother does when he gets a whiff of your blood's scent. he won't not indulge you though, not because he's nice; he simply just wants it too. so count yourself lucky for that one thing. you whine when he removes his fingers and the cooler air hits your most sensitive area again, but you moan his name out when his cock finally enters you. it's bliss. "stay still. don't writhe" he says into your cheek. he's demanding, but his tone is never harsh. it doesn't need to be; you're a good girl. you'll listen. he likes making it painful for you sometimes. today is just that: one of those times. it hurts when he thrusts into you hard enough that you feel the impact of his cock inside of your tight warmth throughout the whole of your body. he's chewing and sucking at your face wherever allows him to get the most taste of you without actually bleeding you dry anymore. he's a good fuck, it's like heaven with him even when it hurts so much. you whine and he pants as he brutishly fucks you. he thinks it's so hot, fucking you into the ground. blood all over you. you look a fucking mess. he probably does too. his baby bangs sticking to his head a bit from the sweat and blood he somehow managed to get on his forehead. he doesn't care though. your moans are fucking perfection.

he pushes your head further down and bites at you harder. you know he's about to cum. you weakly wrap an arm around his neck and pull him closer to you in a futile attempt to catch his lips in a gentle kiss as he finishes inside of you. he indulges you, nicely this time too. kisses you so sweetly like you're made of glass. like you're some princess and he's the knight. he finishes inside of your tight little pussy, the one he loves fucking so dearly, and gazes down at you. tears, blood, sweat, sand, drool. you're covered. you're filthy and disgusting. he loves it. "look at you, slut" he chastises you. but his words hold barely any malice. only love. you can't respond; poor thing, you're real fucked out, aren't you? you feel sae's cum threatening to leak out of you, but he moves his fingers down to your battered and abused pussy and scoops his cum back in there - shoves it even further inside of you with his 2 fingers, then brings them to your mouth so you can suck them clean. and you do, you open your mouth and suck his cum and your essence off of his long digits.

he's tired; but never too tired to tend to you. so he pushes himself up, brushes some sand ontop of the grains of it he already painted with your blood, and picks you up into his arms. and you're grateful he's like this. he doesn't really speak much; he's a man of very few words. you can appreciate that. but you know he cares about you at least. his actions tell you all that.

after he's laid you down on the bed of the pricey hotel room he just stares at you. you're his beloved. he doesn't know what to think really, just stares at your sleeping form. you're really pretty, and pliant, and docile, and not to mention tasty. you're the whole package. he just can't stop looking at you and thinking of your beauty. your hair is messed with a little by his long fingers. he twirls it around his fingers and stares you down in your sleep. you're really everything to him. he's not sure he appreciates you enough. you're not really asleep; you won't let him know that though. you'll let him have this. it's nice being blissfully aware of his rare, delicate touches towards you. especially when your neck still aches from his feral assault.

you're lulled into real sleep when he finally lays behind you and kisses the spot he bit at so hard earlier. and he is too. you're a real keeper, you really are. and itoshi sae is cold, and hard hearted, hard headed, everything that any best friend would tell you to steer extremely clear of if you had one, but you can't care. you love him and he loves you; you know he holds you dearly in regards inside of his slightly warmed up heart.

tags: @saetiate my sae fic........................ i hope this finds u well.................

[sqgeism]

Can I request a Boothill x Reader? :3 GN!Reader preferably. Reader is a quiet person around most people, ofc happy and talkative with their friends and Boothill. They also dislike touch but when it comes to Boothill theyre always happier to hug and kiss him, hold hands ect.

Bascially Boothill with a GN!S/O who is kinda quiet to others but as soon as they're with Boothill they're much more loving and talkative to him cuz they love him that much, Giving gifts ect

If it's too much don't worry ^^ Thank you for considering

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲 | boothill x gender neutral reader

love mail — cuuutie cutie request with a special layout, no less ! reminds me of an old post aaaaalll the way back then, which fyi, give it a read (yes im self promoting things i wrote 2 years ago) <3 here's your req ! much love, thanks for the love mail (〃´o｀)=3

when boothill met you, his sweet, caring, loving s/o for the first time — he would've never guessed that you and him would ever get married in the future. you were always so reserved, kept to yourself.. people thought it meant you were untrusting to others, in reality, you were kind of just antisocial. you liked your own space, and people misunderstood that.

there comes boothill, who also wants to enjoy your space. you found him to be a handful, annoying, and downright insufferable person to be around.. at least for the first few days.

and unfortunately the cheesy little jokes and the 'cowboy life stories' slithered their way into your heart. you found yourself searching for him, and despite his wanted status, he always let himself be found. underneath the moonlight with a shared cigar, you and him exchanged secrets that were between you two and the stars.

boothill tended to notice some smaller habits starting to become of you that he wasn't sure you noticed. typically, you avoided touch from others. whether it be a hug from stelle, or friendly hand holding through markets with robin, you always refused. but sometimes you'd cling to boothill through busy crowds, or you'll help brush away hair from his face, or the rarest of it all — let him do your hair for you. you would sometimes talk about how bored you were with your hair, and so, he'd often times bring little accessories or a brush around with him to mess with it a bit. and you never protested, not once.

there's this added factor that you've started to 'leave your mark' on him. little stickers you left on his body, a chunk of his hair braided, hell — you made him a pretty little necklace that he wears all the time now. boothill had his suspicions that you were into him, and he was PRAYING he was right cause aeons know how long he's liked YOU.

when you eventually confessed your feelings, via playing a song that basically said 'i like you' through your shared earphones and hoping he'd understand (he got it eventually), he figured you'd stay the same. subtle, but still caring.. which was really cute. but aeons, his heart burst when you became GENUINELY clingy, like bless his mechanical heart for not overheating cause he was not used to this change.

head on his shoulder always, hands intertwined is a MUST, playing with his hair and poking at his cheek.. you just loved being around him, and he was RELISHING in this. the slowburn game worked cause look at him now; the most clung onto man on earth. and he is JUMPING FOR JOY!!

he loves it when you get clingy, his favorite is when you rest ontop of him and demand attention. forehead kisses, face squishes, he's doing it all. and he loves the fact you love it, his personal stress ball.

but honestly, he's just happy you've gotten out of your shell. sure, you're still a little reserved around others, but when hes got his arm around your waist while you're with friends, he can see the tiniest spark of more confidence. a bit more bubbly fun in that stoic attitude of yours.

and he likes biting you. you give him cuteness aggression, take what you will with that.

[bwobgames]

“OLIVER GET BACK HERE”

Dad suddenly grabbed him once more, which means he’s safe again!

“Take better care of your kid”

“Who do you think you are to tell me that. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Dressed like that? You think your mother is going to be proud?”

Unbeknown to him, his father just put them in great danger.

Even unbeknown-er to him, his father has been in great danger for a long time.

“Excuse me!”

“Please ignore him, he’s from the farms, he doesn’t know any better. You are Miss Sandra’s son, yeah? She should be working right now but I can tell you where she is!”

The lady from the store gets between her dad and the strange man.

His dad doesn’t stop staring. He can feel the disgust coming from him.

Eventually the man leaves, and they return to the store for the forgotten bread.

“Please, be more careful about what you say. I know it’s supposed to be over, but you never know how people like this will act, you know this! Less so if they find out the things you’ve done..!”

“You don’t want to leave Oliver without a father, right?”

“…Thanks for the bread. Goodbye”

“Bernardo!”

They leave without another word

“Who was that, Daddy?”

Good thing Oliver is there, he knows so many words

“A dog.”

“Huh?”

“A lost dog without its owner. Raised to hurt. Don’t trust them, Oliver”

“But, but, can’t it be nice again? Copito used to bite a bit too hard when playing but then he didn’t!”

“That won’t happen. Dogs are loyal to their owners. They would never bite the hand that fed them”

“I don’t get it”

“You don’t have to. Hopefully you’ll never have to.”

“I do want you to understand this, though”

“If you’re ever in trouble with another dog, call me. I’ll come get you”

“Seeing as you can’t help yourself but get into trouble, I’ll have to get you quite often”

“But I’ll do it. Don’t ever doubt it.”

“Huh? Wha- Ángel?”

“Oliver”

“Oliver? You back?”

“Welcome back! We finished eating a good while ago, but you seemed so comfy zoning out that I didn’t want to interrupt you”

“Wha- everyone’s gone?!”

“We should be getting ready for bed, actually. You missed me telling the new guys the cat car joke”

“Oh, so nothing important”

“You evil little fiend. Once I get new material, you’re toast! You’ll laugh with so much joy and whimsy it will conjure a rainbow!”

“I expect nothing less”

It’s 10:15. He still has a bit of time. Maybe have a little chat with one of his friends, before waking up to the chaos of vacations in a new city. He can see some people in the corridors.

When he grew older, he found out about his dad’s illegal activities.

He found out the grave danger he was putting himself in.

But he never held that against him.

His father taught him that sometimes, the law isn’t fair. That sometimes, the police aren’t right. That sometimes, it’s all about the whims of whoever is on charge.

And that sometimes, you have to fight for what’s right.

Although, there’s been some times. Some three particular times. That he wished he was there.

His dad is old now. He’s no longer the resistance bullet smuggler he once was. And he’s glad for that. He’d rather his dad be safe, he would never do anything that could put him in danger.

That he’d carry him away in that uncomfortable way he used to do.

That he’d used his trusty stick to defend him.

That he’d drive the scary dogs away.

<PREV START NEXT>

[shysuccubusstuff]

Dilf! Sylus pt. 1

Content: Headcanons + some longer parts ♡; Age gap + mention of child abuse (not made by Sylus, of course) + alcohol taking + consensual/dubcon (alcohol intake on both sides).

Summary: After graduating university, you've been looking for a stable job for several months, but for the moment, you just have to content yourself with working as a nanny during the summer holidays. Who would have thought that you would meet such a hot and single (did I already say hot?) dad that would require your services?

Note: I just remembered the fanarts done by someone in Twitter with the boys as dilfs, these fanarts together with some Lana del Rey unreleased songs got me hyped for him... Wish I could see an even older Sylus... he's already hot af tho. I keep saying that I have a bunch of stuff almost ready but I never post it, talk about being like a man (jk depending on how you take the joke). Still, I hope everyone is having a nice week. This video just popped on my tl, hope anyone finds it funny!

Note 2: I'm lowkey scared that some parts are just too corny/cringy... I have no real idea how an older Sylus would speak with some woman that has around... 10? years less than him. Let me know if you want a pt. 2 + the same prompt with other LI!!

You had graduated several months ago, and yeah, of course you knew that finding a job would be the easiest thing in the world, but come on, your area wasn't even THAT full. How was it possible that you were almost the only one that didn't find a job after graduating? You were laying in bed, scrolling through your phone as you kept complaining in your mind. Suddenly, your phone rang, making you almost fall to the floor, quickly taking the call with the hope of getting the job.

"Hello?" You were able to hear some faint sounds in the background, some running around, together with a few giggles.

"... Yes, sorry. I was just busy with something. I call because of your advertisement, the one about working as a nanny?" Suddenly, you heard the deep and velvety voice of a man, even if that voice sounded slightly tired.

"Sure! I'm available for all the week, including weekends. I can even stay at your house if you prefer it that way, I do have to say that the rate does get a bit--"

"That's ok, I don't mind paying as much as you want as long as you do your job appropietly. We can meet this weekend to present them to you, if you are able, of course."

"Yes! Sure, let's meet that day, maybe in the morning?"

"Then that's settled. Thank you, let's meet in a couple days." The man hanged the call, barely allowing you to wave him goodbye. Well, at least that was somewhat solved... right?

The week went fast, with you barely moving around apart from buying groceries or spending your time with some not so interesting game as you complained about your boring holiday with your closest friend. Before you know it, you were already getting ready for that meeting, with your hands starting to sweat a bit as you tried to imagine the kind of children that man could have. Oh God, what if they were the annoying kind? The ones that mess with you cause they hate all their nannies, always acting up and... Wait, just calm yourself, it can't be that bad... right? You grabbed your bag, carrying all the documents that you may or may not need as you kept repeating into your head that there was no way that you would have such bad luck.

You finally entered the café, your hands still sweating a bit as you tried to guess who was the man that had called you. That question was quickly answered, as there was only a single man with not only one, but two children. The two small boys were busy sketching some stuff, with both of them sometimes talking to each other, with the man sometimes answering to them while he took a few sips from the coffee cup. You made your way to the table, clenching your bag as you kept telling yourself to calm down.

"Hi! I'm the nanny, we spoke a few days ago, I don't know if you remember me?" The man's gaze slowly moved from his children drawings to you, his gaze turning much cooler as soon as he stopped looking at them.

"Yes, I do remember you, do you want something to drink while we talk?" You sat down, trying your best not to stumble on your words while you tried to think as fast as possible, your hands lending him the papers that proved that this was not the first time you had worked as a nanny.

"Thank you, I don't want anything, we can just talk like this... I mean, if you want!" The man lifted his brow a bit, perhaps a bit taken aback by your nervous movements, his eyes quickly scanning through the documents.

"That is fine. My name is Sylus. These are my children, Luke and Kieran. Luke is the one on the left, Kieran is the one on the right." The children moved to look at you, both of their faces with several scars that went up their face and arms. The sight made you shiver a bit, but seeing how the two of them were completely calm, you chose to wait in case there was something wrong going on. "They are 8 years old. You will have to work from Monday to Friday, I have to plan the weekends, as it depends on the week. I will make sure to pay you accordingly, of course, you will have bonuses the days that you are asked to stay. I don't require you to teach them nor make any housework, just to take care of them. I would pay you around 25$ the hour, I hope that is enough?" You almost choked on your own spit, trying your best not to act surprised. This was not the first time you had worked for some rich family around town, and yeah, he may be the hottest guy you had ever seen, but you just had to focus on your work. Maybe you could even make it your full time job if you did it correctly?

"There's no problem! I just need to know when should I start working, well, as well as where the house is." As you kept speaking, the two small children got down their chairs, moving closer to you.

"So... when will you start living with us?" Luke rest his face on your leg, with Kieran following him close by. Guess this was their way of greeting you?

Dilf! Sylus who is away most of the day, arriving at late hours at night when both Luke and Kiera are already asleep. He arrives on his motorbike, parking it on the garage, entering the house in complete silence except the sound of the keys being left on the entrance. You had already noticed that this was indeed a routine, as the twins already let you know on the first days you were there. You were barely able to hear him as your room was quite close to the staircase, hearing his soft steps on the carpet as he made his way to his bedroom.

Dilf! Sylus who had no kind of photos or paintings of his (possibly) late wife. The whole house was neatly decorated with mostly dark colours, with the childrens' room being the only exception, as they were the ones that had chosen their own furniture. It took you a few weeks to find out that the two boys had been adopted by Sylus several years ago after they arrived to his door barefoot, with their limbs and faces even more scarred than now. Despite the traumatic experience, the two children seemed mostly fine, even if it was clear that they were extremely anxious the second one of them got separated from the other.

Dilf! Sylus who sometimes arrives in the morning, as always, he leaves the keys on the entrance, rushing to the children's room so he could kiss their forehead, with the two of them hugging him by the neck, allowing him to carry the two of them, each with one arm to the kitchen, where he allowed them to sit as he started making breakfast. These days weren't common, but each time he arrived, you were able to see just how much he cared for Luke and Kieran, with Sylus even spending a few hours playing around with them before leaving to work once more. At first, you tried to avoid interrupting them, choosing to stay silent as you helped him make breakfast or simply tidying up after the twins. That was until the three of them started to open themselves to you, with Luke and Kieran beginning to introduce you on their private chats, even getting to the point in which you were able to see what resembled a smile on Sylus' face. This marked the beginning of the closer relationship between the two.

Dilf! Sylus who begins to have more free time. And despite this would usually mean a reduction on your working hours, this changed nothing, except the small trips with the three of them. The trips started as short outings to the park, sometimes to a restaurant around town. Then, the trips became longer, with the four of you spending a couple days on different countries, as Sylus worked, having to meet with different people while the three of you spending your time by walking around the different cities.

Dilf! Sylus who starts to spend more time alone with you. Inviting you to his private gym in case you had some free time while the twins were sleeping, together with even allowing you to help him test the condition of his motorbike. It had been clear since the start that Sylus was in no way feeble, as you often saw him carrying Luke and Kieran while all of you played together. But it was then, when he was too busy checking every single element of his motorbike, with him simply wearing a tight sleeveless t-shirt, allowing you to see just how much time he spent keeping his body as fit as possible.

"Like what you see?" Sylus' eyes were once again focused on you, his hands slightly tainted by the motor oil, some even staining his face.

"I was just-- Sorry" You felt your face heat up, your eyes starting to move around the garage trying to find anything to focus on.

"No need to excuse yourself, sweetie. I understand, can you help me a bit with this? It seems that I need to check this thoroughly."

Dilf! Sylus who begins to make the work harder for you, with him sometimes rubbing against you as he passed by, making you blush just from remembering the veins on his arms and hands as he worked out. The sexual tension between the two finally came to an end the night the two of you found each other in the living room. Sylus had just arrived, his cloak still being carried under his arm.

"Good night, I didn't expect company so late at night, tell me, would you mind accompanying me for some alcohol?" You bit your lip, still not sure on what to do, before you answered him, Sylus added: "Don't worry, the boys won't be up until maybe around 12, they spent all their energy playing with their friends."

"I suppose it would be ok then, just a bit, ok? I'm not that good with alcohol..." Sylus nodded, going to the kitchen and coming back with two small glasses, together with a bottle of tequila, salt and a few slices of lemon. He had already changed into more comfortable clothes, with him only wearing some expensive smock that looked perhaps a bit too short for your own safety.

"How about we play some cards while we drink? The one who loses will have to drink." You knew that wasn't the best choice for you, but how could you refuse when he was already smirking as if he had already won?

Before you were able to notice it, the bottle of tequile was almost finished, both of your faces being as red as a tomato.

"Come on! Just accept your defeat already, afraid that someone younger than you is better than you?" You smiled, your left hand moving the liquid inside the small glass while you kept glancing at the cards on your right hand.

"Oh? Someone has gotten bolder now, do you always talk to your bosses like that?" Sylus left his glass on the table, smirking while he left the cards fall on the table, resting his head on his left arm. "Just so you know, I have no kind of insecurity regarding my age, sweetie."

"You sure? I mean, you work out a bit too much for someone--"

"I have no idea why would you assume that, the fact that I work out a lot is merely due to the fact that my job--" Sylus stopped himself, taking a deep breath before going on. "That is just because of some requirements that I have to meet in order to keep my position." You looked a bit confused, not realising until then that you had never wondered why did he always arrive so late. Still, the alcohol was still running down your veins, making it difficult to even realise the possible danger of it.

"Suuuure, let's just say I believe you. Why would an old man like you need to stay as fit? Are you sure that you're not planning on wooing some naïve girl into your claws?" You laughed, taking a small sip out of the glass.

"Maybe I want to do just that." Sylus' gaze darkened, his usual dangerous aura coming back to him as his crimson eyes pierced your face. "Maybe I should do just that, I'm sure I would be able to teach some wild kitten just how she is supposed to behave to be considered a good girl." You felt a shiver being sent through your whole body, the hair on your arms stooding up as your face flushed from the tone Sylus had used in those last few words. Sylus chuckled at your reaction, taking once again his glass from the table and playfully moving the ice cubes within his glass that was now filled with some old whisky he had taken from the cabinet. "I was just messing around, no need to act all coy now, we have been in much more intimate situations, am I wrong, sweetie?" Sylus took a small sip of whisky, changing the way he sat to one that made the cloth rode up allowing you to catch a timid glimpse of his underwear. Feeling as you were being tested on purpose, you quickly rose from the couch, thanking the courage given by the alcohol as you suddenly pressed your lips against his, your body clamping against his bare chest.

What first began as a one sided kiss was soon reciprocated, with Sylus soon taking the lead of it, his rough hands positioning on your hip, his thumbs making small circles around the area as his tongue suddenly entered your mouth, the meek kiss soon turning into a lewd one, the room now filled with wet noises together with soft moans and whimpers.

Just as you were starting to feel slightly light-headed, Sylus got away from you, moving his right hand towards your face and caressing your cheek with extreme care. "Guess I made a mistake. It seems this wild kitten is very much aware of what she is capable to do to me." You bashfuly locked eyes with him, encountering one of the softest looks you had ever seen. "I would have liked it more if this had happened on a better occasion, one in which you had enough courage to do all these bold moves without relying on a silly game." Sylus smiled, his eyes still fixed on you, making you feel even more flushed as you could clearly tell just how much he had been holding back from doing anything inappropriate. "Let me take you to bed, I think we should talk about this... change in our relationship tomorrow, when both of us are fully aware of what all of this means." Sylus lifted you with ease, opening the door with one of his legs and soon arriving to your bedroom, suddenly changing the way he held you so he could acommodate the sheets. Before you could say anything, he covered your body, planting a tendeer kiss on your forehead. "Sleep tight, I hope you won't regret anything tomorrow, sweetie."

[kortac-sweetheart]

Do you write yanderes? because I'd love a yandere Konig x reader

i haven't written anything outright yandere but i'll give it a try!

yandere!konig that acts a little more pathetic than usual around you. he's self aware, being nearly 7ft and 250+ pounds doesn't make the most comforting person to be around. and so he acts like a dog, figuratively (and sometimes literally) rolling over to show you his stomach in an attempt to disarm any fear you might have of him.

he hunches over a bit so he's not as tall when he's around you, tucks his limbs close to him in an effort to make his size less intimidating. he doesn't make you look up at him to talk to him either, as soon as you open your mouth he's bending down to hear you better. (and it serves as an excuse to smell whatever fragrance you've put on that day)

normal konig already has a penchant for staring i think, but with him as a yandere the habit would be even worse. it's like the feeling of prey being stalked as you flit about the room, settling heavily like a constant weight on your back. he hasn't done anything outright to give you a reason to be scared but there's always something a little more sinister hiding behind that gentle and kind veneer.

yandere!konig that doesn't necessarily push you into a relationship with him but the constant (expensive) gifts, soft compliments and favors don't help. he sort of, maybe or maybe not inadvertently guilt trips you into being his partner.

his behavior continues well past you've started dating too, he just likes to spoil you too actually. and it always leaves him feeling like a prideful bird when you wear the things he bought you. (he gave you a bracelet that matches the one in his arachnid skin, you wear it everyday and only take it off to sleep or else he will pout at you.)

he never EVER brings you around base, ever. he doesn't want any of those other dogs getting ideas of taking you from him. (he'd rather not be forced to do some...cleaning up, rather than spending time with you.)

the way that he gets you to marry him is very much the same way you got together in the first place. with a plethora of gifts, among spending time doing whatever you want as well, the ring he bought the same day he became your partner now being put into good use.

he always treats you so well doesn't he? caring and providing for you, what use is there to go to someone else when he's right there? he can do whatever you want, wherever, whenever, just don't go to someone else.

the immediate day after your marriage, he retires from being colonel. you're married now after all, it's much safer to be at home to take care of you than it is to potentially leave you widowed all alone, yes?

i think the more "secure" he is in his relationship with you the more lax he becomes actually. you don't really have any options to run to outside of him, not that you'd really need to with all that he provides for you, so he just doesn't see the point in being authoritarian about you and whatever you decide to do.

although he does get a good reminder about the true depth of his love for you... in the form of a stupid leering man trying to hit on you. don't worry schatzi, he just has to attend to something quickly, he'll be back just as soon.

and when he does?

just don't look too hard at the fresh coat of blood on his knuckles.

[rickgrimesdoingrickthings]

Feeling Wren snuggle against his chest made him melt even more. That moment was so special and so precious. She really...liked him, didn't she? "Wren...when you said...you loved me...did you mean it? Or...was it just because you were..." he felt his cheeks warm up again. From time to time he just closed his eyes and snuggled back, relaxing, savoring each second of the moment.

Being with her so close also made him feel safe. He felt that if he got all broken and beaten again, she would be there to give him shelter and care again. The world seemed a bit less scary with her. She had taken the shards that were left of his world and placed back together.

Rick chuckled at her joke, true, they needed another shower to start the day, his cock was still all wet with her, their scents mixing together. "Maybe we can shower together. I would love to wash your back." For sure that would include a ton of caresses, considering how romantic Rick was.

Sometimes he wished he could be inside her all the time- it felt warm and comfy, and so intimate. "W...Wren...as we...as we cuddle, can I..." He felt really shy to ask that- specially because it had such a load of emotion and intimacy. Instead of finishing his sentence, he positioned his cock against her entrance and left it up to her to press herself against him or not. He also needed to see if she would take action about their love making, and he needed to feel her dominance a little, even if just a little, he craved for it- she deciding things as well was one of the most important details in this bond they were forming. He also wanted to know what she liked, and sharing their thoughts during their little aftercare seemed perfect.

"Yes...we're dating...so you're my girlfriend." He smiled, relaxing as she ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm all yours, Wren." Rick seemed really happy about all that, and really happy about having her in his arms.

"Carl? Well, if you want to keep our relationship a secret for now, it's okay, we don't have to tell everyone, it's our life and we can be reserved about that. But if you want to make it public, then I can talk to him- we can talk to him. He really likes you...so I don't think there will be any problems."

Rick kept pleasuring her as she asked him to, savoring each moment, lips on one of her breasts, one of his hands rubbing her and the other caressing her ribs and her other breast- she was wonderful, and to see her like that, completely vulnerable, and such beauty- it made his cheeks warm indeed.

Besides the love and affection he already felt for her, which already would have been enough, she was also so hot- and...his...? She was moaning...whispering things...of course, she would mutter so many beautiful words while feeling so much pleasure. It made his smile a little, eyes affectioned and also impressed.

It...it had been so long since he had any experience with anyone- emotional and physical, and now both were happening. Wren was coming, and he was blushing harder, lips eventually letting go of her nipple, he kept rubbing between her legs, and admiring her, running his hand over her- skin so soft, and he loved her scent.

"No one...can hear us from here. You can...you can let it out." He said, hearing the soft low sounds she was making- they were so delicate-

"I'm still going to learn...what I need to do so you can feel that while we make love." He gently stopped rubbing her as her heat eave seemed to have passed, sitting and pulling her to his lap, embracing her, pulling his robe from the carpet and covering her back.

[lolitasangel]

Maid Reader x Ceo Noah thoughts

summary- You are a maid for Noah, a stoic, quiet, ceo who later falls in love with you.

word count-678

TW-mentions of sex but not explicit. (If you feel anything should be added please let me know!

AN- This is apart of a little thought I had last night and really wanted to write it, please like and reblog <3

The first time you had arrived at the house you were a little intimated. You were a little nervous at the thought of having to help look later such a big house. You would later find yourself relieved to find it was just one person living alone.  

Walking into the house and seeing the large living room, kitchen, the different rooms, etc. was surreal. You have been too nice homes before but never this big or nice, or expensive. The thought of having to touch anything exquisite made you a little anxious.  

The first time you and Noah spoke it was very one sided, quick and short. " Laundry, dishes, the usual cleaning, you won't be expected to clean every day, but you will be needed for other things." 

You were first a little nervous about moving into a big house alone although the longer you stayed the longer you realized you would spend most of the day alone.  

Noah would wake up at 6am on the dot every morning and leave until he would come back much later. Coming home to no dishes to be done, laundry done, living room reset was everything Noah needed.  

The last thing Noah wanted to do when he got home was any house chores, which is why he hired you, he did not expect someone so beautiful though.  

Noah would not make you wear a maid dress as that would be ridiculous but as of now, he wouldn't mind seeing you bent over with your skirt lifting.  

You would spend half of your day cleaning or picking up anything out of place or any anything Noah may have tossed to the side such as his jacket, shoes, jewelry that he would toss onto the coffee table.  

You did not like being in his room, scared to break something or misplace something else, you were always quick to be in and out when it came to his room. There was not much clean to, Noah never left a mess and always cleaned up after himself. You would spend most of the day reading until he would get home. 

The longer you lived with him the more you learned he was very on top of what was happening at work, always reading papers, emailing people, phone calls, etc. There would be nights where you would wake up from Noah pacing the house talking on the phone. Sometimes you would see him others you would not see him for days.

The first time you had dinner together was very quiet and awkward. Noah was nice and tried to make small talk with you, but it always went nowhere.  

Occasionally he would stay home and lock himself away in his office to focus on work. He would also call upon you to bring him anything he might need; you didn't mind as there was never much for you to do. 

Overtime as you and Noah get closer which later than leads to you fucking, he can't keep his hands of you. Every weekend now instead of spending it at the office he's spent trying to pull you into bed with him.  

After you and Noah start to deepen your relationship, he has you move your things into his room, wanting you as close as possible. HE JUST WANTS TO START AND END HIS DAY WITH YOUR WHATS WRONG WITH THAT.  

You loved seeing him in a suit anytime he had to go to a meeting, you loved tying his tie and giving him a kiss when you finished. Always wishing him good luck. You were both still a little nervous around each other, but you were excited non the less. 

Although he is still a little stoic and quiet he speaks in his actions. You need medicine, here it is, you want ice cream, what kind do you want, the driver can pick some up. Whatever you need he will get for you. You feel a little sad, Noah has his arms open wide for you to crawl into and sleep for the time being. 

—————

Taglist- @fadingintothegrey

[sweetiecelin]

The Blind Leading the Blind

A Sam Winchester x Reader

You and Sam the biggest idiots. Sometimes, when you want to see something you have to take a step back. It's just you and Sam are just into being really good friends. Everyone else can see beside you dumbasses.

A/N: Feedback is very much appreciated, but even just liking it validates me into writing more chapters for this.

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How you started to hunt with the Winchester brothers was a mess. You ended up on the same hunt as them, saved their asses and they saved yours. The demons were some nasty bitches, but it made them realize you may need back up since the case was a setup for you. The Wincesters were just an added bonus. Sam was the one who suggested you start hunting with them, stay at the bunker, especially since you were now a known target of demons and whatever monsters you pissed off in your 5 years of hunting. Dean was against it at first but when you proved to him you knew your shit and a little about cars, he warmed up to you. 

Moving into the bunker was another story. The amount of times that you got lost in what you’d call a maze was unbelievable. Originally you tried to find a room with a bathroom, but unfortunately for you it was a bunker meant for MEN of Letters. You were shit out of luck. The room you picked was 2-3 rooms away from the boys’ (just to maximize your privacy). 

Very quickly you adjusted to your newfound life, found your groove with Sam and Dean. You’d help research and look for cases. It reminded you of living with your brothers, only a less violent homelife. Dean and you discussed the nuances of Scooby Doo, Sam and you would discuss the current books you were reading. You and Sam could go on and on about the damn books, he was like your best friend. Sometimes on those late nights, you and Sam would stay up until about 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning discussing which writer was better or which story had a better plot or commentary. Most of the time, it’d be so late and you’d both be so tired you’d fall asleep in the same bed. But obviously, it was just what friends did.

Sam came over, calling your name to wake you out of your daydream, “Hey, you good?”

Looking up at him, you just smiled softly, “Yeah, I’m good. Doing perfectly fine.”

“What were you thinking about?” He sat down across from you at one of the library tables and placed his laptop in front of him.

With a shake of your head, “It’s nothing. ‘M  just thinking about how we ended up here, or more like how I ended up here.”

Dean walked into the library on his way to the kitchen in that stupid robe of his that he just happened to find, “ ‘Cause you majorly pissed off a lot of people.” 

“Well, yeah of course. But you guys didn’t need to let me stay,” Looking at Dean and then passing a quick glance at Sam, “I’m grateful for it though.”

“We’re happy to have you on our side.”

LORD, why did Sam have to be so nice? He’s been one of nicest people you've met, especially for hunters, but he didn’t need to be. He was so considerate, always asking what you needed before going on a run, always having your back on a hunt. Dean did that too, just not like Sam did. It was probably because you guys were closer than you were with Dean. 

After about 30 more minutes of small talk you went back into your room. It was getting late, so you decided to just change into some leisure clothes. You put on a tank top, some shorts and a flannel. The flannel looked like one of yours, but just bigger. You didn’t mind though, worst case scenario it was one of the boys’. On your way to the kitchen to grab something to drink, you saw Sam working on his computer and cross-referencing some lore books. 

You, again, took the seat across from him, “Whatcha doin’, some boring shit?”.

You threw him a goofy look and he just chuckled, eyes not moving from the laptop, “You could say that.”

“Sam, take a damn break. You’ve been at this all day, reading some lore about a monster for a case we don’t even know is a case yet.”

Sighing, he only looked up at you for a second before turning back to his research, “It’s just not adding up, there are too many differences for a usual haunting or some other monster.”

Leaning over the table, you took a peek at his research, “Wow, you’re kinda ignoring an obvious answer.”

“Oh am I, please look and tell me what I’m missing”, He sarcastically replied. Then he looked up at you, his eyes dipped to the shirt that fell down as you bent over the table to see what he was working on.

“Yeah”, You pointed to the lore book he had in front of him, “If it’s not a ghost or a poltergeist, moving between homes and targeting other people, it’s probably a shadow walker.”

He attempted to pry his eyes away from one of the best views he’s seen before you noticed, surprisingly managing to do so, “O-Oh yeah, such an uhm obvious thing. I can’t believe I missed it.”

Skeptically looking at him, confused as to why suddenly switched up with his voice. You raised an eyebrow to him.

“Sam, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, just tired.”

Seeing his exhaustion, you just sighed, “I’ve told you so many times, you can’t just spend hours looking at something by yourself. You start to miss things because you’re trying to find an answer that isn’t obvious to you, but probably to someone else. Primarily me.”

He chuckled, “..Y’know by now, I should follow your advice.”

“But we both know you’re saying that now, but next time you’re going to completely forget what I told you. So take a break, right now. Talk to me, c’mon.”

The pleading look in your eyes, he couldn’t resist. You started talking to him about one of your shows that you were currently hyper focused on in between hunts. Sam would just get so interested just because you would just start going off about the main character and how she’s completely oblivious to the fact that the villain is actually her best friend and using her. Or how you critique the fact that most of the shows nowadays are filmed in Vancouver, even if they’re based somewhere in the U.S.

After a while Dean came in with some grocery bags, pulling you both out of the tangent that Sam let you go off on.

“So guys, I’m thinking we blow off some steam,” Dean suggested, holding up a bottle of cheap ass whiskey. 

With a mischievous look on your face, you giggled, “And what play 20 questions?”

Sam threw his head back with a loud laugh, when Dean actually agreed.

So now, it was the three of you with a bottle between you. It’s way past 20 questions and you three are just trying to embarrass each other. 

It was Dean’s turn, he already knew most of his brother’s embarrassing stories. The older Wincehster decided he wanted to push your buttons, smoothly mentioning your name, “What’s your most embarrassing sex story?”

“Yeah, um so..” You immediately took a bigass drink from your cup, signaling you’re going to pass.

“Ahhh, so it was that bad? You can't even speak of it?” Dean pressed a little harder, trying to get you to break.

Sam cleared his throat, trying to help you, or rather the pickle you found yourself in, “I think it’s her turn to ask a question.”

Shooting Sam a grateful look but turned slightly apologetic. “So Sam..”, he gulped as he saw the cogs turning behind your eyes and a menacing grin appearing on your lips, while trying not to make it obvious he was staring at them, “What’s your favorite pick up line?”

Dean started looking between you two like he had missed something, when Sam was pulled out of his thoughts, “Are you a magician? Because when I look at you the world just disappears?”

You stare at him for a moment, before cracking up, “Oh my Lord, that’s one of the cheesiest nerdiest lines, I’ve heard. Does it actually work?” 

“Well did it work on you, sweetheart?” Dean rapidly asked which Sam then sent a glare at him.

You shook your head, laughing your ass off, “Oh definitely not, maybe when I was 16 and was one of the dorkiest people there was.”

You took another drink from your cup, before filling it back up. You were determined as hell to keep up with them, not only taking a sip when you wanted to pass the question.

“Sam, it’s your turn to ask a question.”

He wanted to ask a question of the same caliber but settled on picking on his brother, “Dean, what one thing you thought you wouldn’t like but turned out you did?”

Dean thought about it for a second before replying, “Easy, sarsaparilla.”

“My turn,” looking at you, “What’s one thing you look for in a man?”

Caught off guard, you had to think about it for a second before sneaking a glance at Sam, “Someone who shares the same interests and I get along with. Even if we’re both in a bad mood.”

Sam smiled which you returned. He figured you said that because you learned that you’ve got to find someone compatible with and get you like he did, you wanted to be with someone who would feel like your best friend. Feeling satisfied that he helped raise your standards.

This goes on for about another hour before both brothers realized you might be a little too drunk. You kept trying to keep up with them but as they’re two physically inclined men over 6 foot, you didn’t stand a chance. Dean suggested you go to bed, but the moment you tried to walk away, you almost fell on your ass.

Luckily, your best friend was there to catch you. Sam helped you stand and to get to your room as you leaned on him for support.

When the two of you reached your room, you turned and looked at him with a drunken, adoring look in your eyes, “Y’know Sam… You’re kinda my type.”

Stunned, he looked at you with wide eyes before you started giggling uncontrollably. He always thought you looked adorable when you were laughing, so he relaxed a bit.

“I’m sure you’re not even going to remember in the morning, go ahead and just get into bed.”

Helping you stumble to your bed, he goes to throw some blankets over you when you start to unbutton the flannel mumbling, “‘s too hot in here, Sammy.”

He started getting flustered as he moved hastily to get you covered up before he saw anything. Once he did that and started to walk a way your hand shot out and grabbed his.

“Sammy, just cuddle me until I go to bed.. Please Sammy?”

He looked back at you and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to cuddle you, but as a friend(Y’know how friends do). He sighed and just loosened your grip around his wrist, shutting the light off as he left your room and closed the door.

Once he walked back into the library to clean up a little and put things away, Dean was still sitting there at the table. His older brother had this knowing look, with a wide grin on his face.

“What are you laughing about, ya jerk?”

“Oh, nothing,” Taking a gulp of his whiskey, finishing it, “Just love to see such good friends.”

Sam was going to tell his brother off, but before he could Dean hightailed it out of the communal area to his room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Also to the one that encouraged to start this @cherrygxth

[throttleheart]

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Fuck it, I love you

Pt. I II III

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Yearning, Unresolved tension, a little toxic

Word Count: ~1k

Summary: Time went by faster in Monaco, but they still remained. They love, hurt and admit to being complicated.

Inspired by the song Fuck it, I love you by Lana Del Rey

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Monaco was a fever dream.

Glittering, golden, drenched in excess. A place where people lost themselves in the lull of the waves and the warmth of expensive liquor, where love burned hot and fast, turning to ashes before morning. She had never belonged here, not really, but somehow, she always ended up back in the same places, making the same mistakes.

Making him her mistake all over again.

The air smelled like salt and cigarettes, thick with the sound of waves crashing against the harbor below. Lando stood on the balcony, bathed in the glow of the city, his silhouette sharp against the night. His curls were a mess, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal sun-kissed skin and the delicate glint of his chain—the one she had traced with her fingers a hundred times before.

She hated him.

Or maybe she just hated how much she wanted him.

He tilted his head slightly, acknowledging her presence before speaking. “Are you gonna talk, or just stare at me all night?”

His voice was quieter than usual. A little rough around the edges. Maybe from the drinks, maybe from exhaustion. Or maybe from something else—something neither of them wanted to name.

She exhaled slowly, arms crossing over her chest like a shield. “I don’t even know why I came.”

Lando let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Yeah, you do Y/N”

And fuck, she did.

Because this was how it always went. The tension, the distance, the arguments that bled into silence, and then—this. The inevitable pull back together, like gravity, like something neither of them could fight no matter how hard they tried.

She stepped forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor, stopping just close enough to catch the flicker of something in his eyes. He was guarded, but she knew him too well. She saw the way his fingers tightened around the railing, the way his chest rose and fell just a little too quickly.

“I hate you sometimes,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s jaw tensed. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but he just exhaled instead, setting his glass down on the ledge beside him.

She didn’t know what she wanted him to say. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

“I hate you,” she repeated, softer this time. “Because I love you. And I hate that I do.”

The words hung between them, fragile and raw.

Lando blinked, and for the first time that night, his mask slipped.

There it was.

The truth they both knew but never said.

The thing that made her leave. The thing that always made her come back.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his curls. Then, almost to himself, “I love you too.”

Her breath hitched. It wasn’t the first time he had said it. It wouldn’t be the last. But it never changed anything. It never made this— them —any less complicated.

She should walk away. She should tell him that love wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like drowning and coming up for air at the last possible second.

Instead, she sighed, stepping into him, pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

Lando hesitated, his hand hovering near her waist before finally settling on the small of her back. His touch was careful, almost reluctant, as if he was waiting for her to change her mind.

She never did.

“Fuck it,” she whispered.

And just like that, the cycle started all over again.

Because Monaco was a fever dream. And so was he. And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t want to wake up.

2:14 AM

They never talked about the nights after.

The moments when the alcohol had worn off, when the adrenaline had faded and all that was left was them—just them—with all their sharp edges and tangled emotions.

She lay beside him now, sheets tangled around their legs, the dim glow of the city slipping through the cracks of the curtains. Lando was half-asleep, one arm draped lazily across her waist, his fingers barely gripping the fabric of her shirt.

She should move. She should slip out of bed and call a cab and disappear before morning.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, the peaceful expression he only ever wore in sleep. It was unfair, she thought, that he looked so soft like this—so different from the reckless, infuriating boy she fought with in daylight.

Her fingers twitched against the sheets. She wanted to reach out, to trace the freckles along his cheekbone, to memorize the curve of his lips.

Instead, she whispered into the dark:

“I love you.”

He didn’t hear it. Or maybe he did but pretended not to. Either way, he didn’t respond.

And maybe that was for the best.

Because morning would come. And so would reality.

And they both knew how this story ended.

They always did.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

You know? I really, really love your blog and your posts! I can't say that I'm in love with the show anymore, and if I'm honest with myself, I think that I'm on the salt side of the fandom. But like, I also enjoy a bit of sugar? It reminds me of what could have been.

But, sometimes, I feel that sugar fans are hard on salters/disappointed fans... Like, I'm afraid of asking their opinion about a negative aspect of the show, just to understand their pov, no matter if I try my best to be polite. And I get it, they have a right to enjoy the show and I am not entitled to get an answer from them, but its a side of the fandom that I'm afraid to interact with even if I enjoy some of their fanworks.

Yet, you are so patient and I feel that you understand (or try your best) both sides + the writers' and try to find a middle ground while affirming your perspective. You are so respectful even though you might not agree with some askers.

So, thank you for being you and making this blog! The world needs more people like you <3

Thank you so much for the kind words! I'm glad that I come across as respectful. I certainly try to!

I started this blog because I needed to vent about some things. Writing stuff down is a really good way to get your mind to stop pestering you against your will and I highly recommend it, but I didn't feel comfortable doing that on a blog more openly tied to my fan creations because there really is this vibe that you need to either love the show or get out. No middle grounds allowed. As if the show has to be perfect for you to be allowed to engage with it. That's not a healthy mindset for anyone to get into especially if you want diverse and interesting fan creations in your fandom. The more people feel like they have to fit a certain mold to be welcome, the less creations you get.

It's one thing to request that your personal blog be sugar only or to not want to engage with more critical posts, but to act as if people aren't welcome in any part of the fandom unless they only talk about good things is not how you get a fun and active fandom. It seems like people are legitimately scared of saying anything bad about Miraculous, but canon has a lot of things that aren't great so the sugar fandom is dying off because the only options are to shut up and be welcome or talk about what's bothering you and be kicked out. A single salty post can get you thrown out no matter if you're usually pretty positive or neutral about canon. It's weirdly culty and not my cup of tea. I like talking about media and you generally can't do that if you're only allowed to say positive things.

A while back, I joined a fandom event to meet other fans and one of the rules of the event discord was "no salt" and so people just... didn't talk about anything to do with the show. The only activity the server saw was the question of the day and occasional writing question even though episodes were actively airing at the time. It was a really depressing experience that perfectly showcased why "no salt" is an okay rule for a personal blog, but a terrible rule for any sort of group setting. It just kills people's ability to talk if they're constantly policing what they say.

My rule of thumb for this kind of thing is that people are ALWAYS allowed to disengage from a conversation that's upsetting them and that you should respect people's boundaries for their personal spaces like blogs, but that you do need to grow a backbone if you want to be in bigger fandom spaces. You're going to see shit you vehemently disagree with, but in most cases, the way to deal with that is to go do something else and let the people have their fun. If a post of yours starts getting a bunch of upsetting replies, turn off the notifications. Block the blogs. Curate your corner of fandom, don't curate fandom as a whole otherwise you get something like Miraculous. I've never seen a fandom so afraid of critical thought as Miraculous seems to be. I don't know if it's because it's younger or actively airing or what, but it's weird. It's totally cool if someone just wants to turn off their brain and have fun with it, but it's not cool to get mad that other people want to talk about the very real problems with the writing and the messaging.

[birdmitosis]

What are your opinions on selfcest?

(I need to answer so many asks in my inbox... I'm sorry this is late! I will be late again/some more!!)

But I really wanted to finally get around to this one because I actually have some very specific thoughts on selfcest, which is that I feel like it would be... not necessarily "more liked," because people like what they like and are into what they're into, people are squicked by what they're squicked by, etc... but seen as less scandalous if it didn't have "-cest" as part of the name.

To elaborate, I don't think it has any similarities to incest unless the specific individual characters in question outright do think of their "other selves" in a familial way. In many cases this just isn't the case, however -- the relationship doesn't map that way in canon itself, or the other selves are totally noncanonical in the first place. I can think of some exceptions (Galerians, where almost all the clones of one particular person think of one another as siblings, including the one who was raised separately and didn't know about any of that so doesn't feel a sibling bond with them but they still seem to consider him one) but in many cases, that's just not what's going on. It's clones, or a changeling, or a time loop, or a multiverse, or something else where the canon doesn't portray them as feeling any sort of familial bond -- and where sometimes the canon actually outright makes a point to show or talk about how different they are.

And to explain even further... I think my view on selfcest is influenced by the fact that for a couple of decades now, my views on selfhood have been such that... I don't think "self"cest inherently feels self enough to feel offputting to me, either. Yes, you can have situations where someone looks at a clone or alternate universe version of themself and goes "that's 100% me" in a way that never really treats the other like their own person, and in that case it wouldn't appeal to me... But even since I was a teenager, I've always considered that if one person was suddenly two people, the second person unavoidably becomes their own person from the moment of separation, the moment either of them says or does anything that starts to develop them in a different direction from the other. And a lot of the time "selfs" in selfcest are even more different than that: Think of the Spider-Verse movies, for instance, or the possible interactions between a Transformer and their alternate universe selves if you crossed some of the cartoons and comics together. Pavitr Prabhakar and Peter B. Parker just do not feel like the same person; neither do EarthSpark Arcee and Transformers Animated Arcee and IDW comics Arcee.

TL;DR though, uh, I have to assume you're asking me because of Slay the Princess. 😅 In which case that was a really long and roundabout way of saying... Honestly, I don't even think "selfcest" applies in STP. (Mostly, at least.) While the voices are all parts of the Long Quiet (and the vessels are all parts of the Shifting Mound), they are different enough people that they necessitate their own names, they have different relationships with one another, they disagree with one another to the point of dislike at times, their actions if they could act on their own would be VERY different, and especially once they have their own bodies I just don't register them as the same person anymore. And I truly think the game backs me up on this, because... the Shifting Mound and the Long Quiet also used to be the same being originally. Go back far enough and arguably any ship that isn't the Narrator/one of the other characters is selfcest! But it so doesn't feel that way to me, not even to the extent that most people mean it.

I have the occasional selfcest ship, but long story short, voices shipping and vessel shipping doesn't actually feel like selfcest to me at all* if that makes sense.

[daisyjonesgf]

not to be horny on main, on a monday but...

I feel like I should say whimsical girlie and billy aren't always having rough, angry sex, like most of the it's a lot softer and way less intense

it's a lot of casual sex and tbh I think she gets distracted sometimes lmao, like I think she'd be riding him and he's so close and she's suddenly stopping and going, "did you hear that?"

and he's rolling his eyes, looking around just to appease her but he is so annoyed, "no, I didn't hear anything."

"I should go check the-"

"baby."

"what?" and she genuinely is like what's up, why can't I and billy is sighing and looking down at where she's sitting back up to her and she's like oh yeahhhh, "sorry!"

but he's like well the moment is over now and just, "it's fine, go check, baby." when she does that too many times consistently though, he'll just flip her onto her back and kiss her to distract her from whatever spiritual message she thinks she was getting, "gotta do everything myself." sometimes when he's eating her out he'll also just randomly stop and when she's whining he's like, "it's not that fun, is it, baby?"

anyways I think she also talks during sex, like between the moaning and whining she's fully trying to have a conversation about some bird she saw today and what it symbolizes and billy is all "mhm, baby" while kissing her neck and fucking her, and then she stops the closer she gets but then once they're done and cuddling she starts right back up again. 😭

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@jollyhunter

Okay finally things have calmed down and I can dive into your wonderful comments 😊 Again, thank you so much for encouraging me to start posting my Mandalorian stories, I appreciate you so much and it's definitely helping me get through the imposter syndrome a little bit lol. 🤣❤️

OKAY FIRST OFF. THIS STORY SOMEHOW GAVE ME GHIBLI FEELINGS AND I'M SCREAMING. NOW. I had to get up right after the first paragraph, get myself some eastercake, and continue reading while munching on my own sweets. Because the descriptions and the mood are just ahhh so warm 🥰

OKAY OH MY WORD THATS SUCH A HUGE COMPLIMENT BECAUSE I LOVE STUDIO GHIBLI AND NOW I'M SCREAMING! Bout to bust out Howl's Moving Castle and Kiki's Delivery Service 🧹 I'm also not going to lie, I have no idea what eastercake is 😅, but I am happy that you had a sweet treat to snack on 💗

Reading this felt like such a sweet treat after a stressful week. And had me YEARN for things I'm not even capable of or like doing myself *cough* baking *cough* 😂 But oh my Chuck, I feel like right now I'd wish for nothing more but owning a small bakery or coffee shop, surrounded by vanilla and cinnamon smell, living somewhere in a distant city with passing by strangers. And of course, having Din and Grogu visit me every day. 💗 In other words, I am obsessed with this story. Sorry, can't help it. You gotta deal with it now, look what you've done and live with the consequences.

Yay! I'm so happy that it had that effect on you and helped you get through a stressful week! (side note I am sorry about the stressful week and I hope it's better 🥰) But oh the "yearning" LOL. It too made me yearn to open a bakery on another planet and be visited by Din and Grogu. I do love to to bake- but I am sorry that you believe you can't. I hope that one day you try again- it's not quite as hard as everyone believes it to be... Plus I kinda find comfort in the chaos of it sometimes LOL 💗🍞

But oh my goodness 😭😭😭 THANK YOU! I'm so glad that you liked the fist installment of this story! I will live with the consequences and accept the consequences happily 😆

LOL 🤣

You did such a great job at describing him without giving any descriptions of his facial expressions! And I love the way you captured his inner turmoil with just as little as a "he hesitated" or a tilt of his head. Because let's be real, it's really challenging to write for a character (from the sole reader's perspective no less) when you cannot even add a simple twitch of his lips or how his eyes moved and instead have to stare at your own friggin reflection all the time and imagine where his gaze goes.

Thank you friend! It was difficult to do that, and thank you so much for pointing it out! ❤️ He is hard to write for because I legit kept thinking "oh I'll drop in a reference to his hair" or "his bashful smile" or "oh I can talk about the way the sun turns his eyes a honeyed-whiskey" but NO! 😭 It was torture and I was suffering lol (not really because I love him). But oh yeah it's all about looking at your own reflection and not knowing where Din is looking! He's always looking at the reader, but she doesn't know that 🤣

I will forever admire Pedro Pascal for being able to act through the helmet. For him to be able to do things and deliver lines through it just kills me. He's so talented *sigh* 😍

Where's my Dean walking the way of the Mandalore AU? hm? (I'm only half-kidding. You're giving me ideas lmao)

LOVE the gif and Oh my word that could be so good! PLEASE write it (I'm also half-kidding but I believe you could do it and do it AMAZING 🤗)

So happy that you decided to post the first chapter and girl, you DELIVERED. And I'm glad I could be part of that motivation 💕 Now I can't wait to read the next chapter!!! Next time I'll prepare something sweet from the start lol

Oh my stars- THANK YOU SO MUCH! And really thank you for encouraging me (I've said it a million times, but really THANK YOU)

Where'd You Come From?

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: An adorable customer wanders into your bakery and introduces you to someone you'd never met, who piques your curiosity. Takes place after Season 3 when Din and Grogu have been living in their cabin on Nevarro. This is the first fic in my Sugar, Spice, and Starlight Series!

Tropes: Fluff, Meet Cute, Bakery AU, Grumpy vs. Sunshine

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: I don't think there's really any? The reader is really soft and likes to bake? The reader simping over a man's voice (as we all should)? Din might be a little bit OOC. It's mostly just fluff.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! This is my first time writing for Din, so please be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: Honestly, I've been kinda afraid to post this for a while, but @jollyhunter thank you so much for encouraging me! You're a wonderful friend 💗

The smell of fresh bread, cinnamon, and brown sugar wrapped you in a blanket of warmth as you pulled a tray from one of the large ovens at the back of your bakery. It was not the first tray to be born of flame and love today, nor would it be the last.

You smiled down at the perfect pan of browning pastry with pride swelling in your chest, admiring your handiwork. It had been two days since you opened your small bakery tucked into the corner of a colorful street on Nevarro and you were already convinced that it was the best decision you had ever made, despite your older brother's insistences that you were crazy for doing so.

Sure, Nevarro was in the middle of nowhere, was populated by angry bounty hunters, and probably wasn't the safest place to live, but you loved it. Every day there was a market that opened in the early hours of the morning, close enough that you could wander through the colorful stalls meeting new people, trying food and sweets from all over the galaxy, and browsing through the handcrafted wares the others sold. On weekends the new fountain in the center of town was surrounded by parents while children squealed and ran through the cooling sprays of water. It was a lovely place to sit and soak up the warm sun, while your mind slipped into the soothing prose of a book perched on your knee.

The longer you stayed on Nevarro, the more you felt apart of its growing community and the more you felt like you belonged there. You hadn't felt like you belonged anywhere in years, not after you lost your grandmother, and you were left with an cold empty house filled with echoes of someone long gone, shades of a life you lived that could only exist in your memory.

Your brother had left you years before, angry, fueled with a fire to make the people who destroyed your home and orphaned the two of you pay, choosing rather to leave you with your grandmother than watch from the sidelines.

But you never blamed him for leaving when he was only fifteen and you barely ten. You weren't angry anymore about losing your parents to the war the way so many others had. Maybe it was because you'd lost them when you were too young to remember their faces while your brother was still haunted by the voice of your mother singing him to sleep.

But you supposed that without your grandmother you never would have fallen in love with baking and found the thing that made you feel whole and brought you comfort when everything else seemed to fall apart around you. It was her that fueled your own love of baking, tempered it and helped it grow from a small spark to a burning flame.

Her constant praise and encouragements in the time the two of you spent tucked into her kitchen filled with light and love made you the person you were today. She taught you everything you knew, spoke about opening a bakery of her own for years, but never did. You knew that she would have wanted you to sell the house to do what she couldn't, so you did, and you didn't look back.

The constant flow of customers in and out of the shop, the chatter that rose from patrons sitting on the carved wooden tables made of strong smooth wood, and the people who continued to say how wonderful it was to have you there only supported your decision to move here.

She would have loved this.

You think to yourself with a smile, gaze falling to your grandmother's overstuffed book of recipes that sat with pages fanning on the counter, before you drop your free hand to smooth a wrinkle from the floral apron wrapped around your waist. One of hers that you'd tied there for good luck over your dark blue skirt.

You supposed that it was working given the fact that you'd completely sold out of treats yesterday and now already halfway through the third day, you were out of some of your favorites.

At this rate I'm going to have to hire someone else to work the counter for me.

You never imagined to have this kind of response, but now you lived for it.

The fresh tray you pulled from the oven is heavy, but it's a pleasant weight. You maneuver through the cozy kitchen to place it on the counter where the sweet buns could cool before you iced them with the thick periwinkle colored frosting chilling in the refrigerator in the corner, but as you do, you hear the front door chime.

It was later in the day, and you were taking advantage of the lull before you expected another rush of customers to come in. The last patron had left fifteen minutes ago, placing her ceramic mug in the big plastic bin on top of the trashcan by the front doors, before walking out with a cheerful "goodbye."

The smile you have when you hear the jingle is genuine, the prospect of sharing your gift of baking with someone else warming your heart.

"One minute." You call, arranging the tray on the crowded countertop before you wipe your flour covered hands on the apron at your waist and make your way through the green curtain that hangs in the doorway of the kitchen, dividing the front and back of the shop. Your eyes flick upwards, expecting to see someone standing there behind the counter waiting for service, but the shop is empty.

"Hello?" You ask tentatively, looking over the counter at the empty wooden chairs and tables arranged beyond before the doorway and wide windows at the front of your shop. Sunlight filters through the glass in happy patches of light, illuminating the furniture just inside the door.

But no one answers you.

That's weird.

You hear something make a cooing noise, but you still can't see anyone, and there's a small part of you that's disappointed someone left without asking for help.

The odd noise sounds again, almost like the small multicolored bird-like creatures in the cages hanging above the shop next door.

Maybe one got out and is trapped in here somewhere.

The thought makes your fingers itch for the broom leaning in the corner, expecting something to come swooping down at you from the rafters above. Nothing was worse that finding out at the last minute that something you were trying to shoo could fly.

You walk around the counter looking for the source of the sound while bracing yourself for attack, but stop when you see a little green creature swaddled in brown cloth standing in front of the one of the glass cases loaded with sweets. He turns his gaze in your direction, presses his little three fingered hand against the glass, and coos softly as if asking you for one of the treats that sit in organized rows within.

"Um-" You look around the room hoping to see an adult, someone who he belongs to, but there's no one. "Hey there little guy." You stoop down next to him so you can see him better.

The creature smiles and gurgles happily, tapping his hand against the front of the case filled with pastry again to make a point.

"Where's your mommy?" You pick him up gently, cradling him in your arms. "Did you get lost?"

He coos again and touches your chin with a smile so cute that it's impossible not to return it. The sharp nails catch against your smooth skin, but you don't mind.

He's so cute.

You think to yourself with a soft smile.

I wonder who he belongs to?

You bite the inside of your cheek and contemplate what you should do. You were still relatively new on Nevarro and hadn't introduced yourself to the sheriff yet, but you'd heard of her. The problem was you had no idea where Cara Dune would be at this time of the day and you'd never seen a creature like him walking around when you went to the market or... really seen a creature like him ever.

I can't just keep him! Someone could be looking for him and it wasn't on my agenda today to become a kidnapper. I mean, that's never on my agenda, but today isn't any different!

You raise your eyes to look out the front door and large windows of your bakery, watching a few people pass by, but you don't see anyone resembling the child in your arms.

A sigh builds in your chest, contrasting the thrumming anxiety building in your body.

Maybe I should feed him, he looks hungry. And if his family doesn't come in by the end of the day I'll go find Cara Dune. She's got to know who he belongs to.

It seemed like a good plan, plus you figured the way that the creature was looking at the pastries it wouldn't hurt to give him a little something before you tried to find his family.

"Well, I don't really know how you ended up in here, but somebody's gotta be looking for you." You sigh, softly stroking his green ears. He wriggles in your arms, sighing under his breath and leans into your comforting touch. "Are you hungry?"

He turns and waves his hand at one of the glass cases loaded with multi-colored pastries again.

"Guess that's a yes." You laugh as you walk back around the case to place him on the counter right next to the register resting in between the two glass displays. "Sit here cutie. I'll get you something."

He waits patiently on the counter kicking his little feet where they hang over the edge, while you turn to the case on your left and grab a Uj'alayi square, a traditional Mandalorian sweet, from the display. The brown sticky pastry crumbles in his little hand as you give it to him. "This one's my favorite. It's my mother's recipe."

Your mother had been born on Mandalore years before the Clone Wars, but she'd left when she met your father, taking the traditions from her family with her to start anew. You'd never met any of her family members before and supposed that they died in the purge of Mandalore. The recipe for Uj'alayi was one of the only things you had left of her, something you'd found in the box of belongings pulled from the remnants of your home following it's destruction.

It had taken you years to perfect the recipe, thought that making it would awaken some memory deep inside of your mother, but it never did. Your brother, Elijah, remembered the moments that slipped between your fingers like running water, seeping through the cracks in your memory of the fleeting moments you'd spent with your parents before they were killed.

When the creature bites into the square, he gurgles, his dark eyes blinking at you and crinkling slightly from the lights that line the ceiling of your shop.

"I know. Good huh?" You smile and break off a piece of the cake before popping it into your mouth. The crunch of nuts and the tang of the sweet syrup brings a melancholic feeling of nostalgia rising on the crest of a wave, but slowly ebbs out to sea with your exhale.

It wasn't an unusual feeling, you'd been feeling more nostalgic since you'd opened the bakery.

The child munches on the square with a happy giggle and it makes you smile. Sharing your gift of baking always brought joy to your heart, and this was no different.

I wonder where his family is. He's so small, he couldn't have gotten too far, and he shouldn't be out by himself. Something could happen to him.

The thought makes your smile falter. The population of bounty hunters on Navarro had lessened in the months before your arrival, but you weren’t sure that someone as little as him should be walking around by himself.

The front door of the shop opens with a pleasant jingle.

"There you are." Someone sighs in a buzzing monotone.

You glance up from the little one your counter with curiosity, blinking in surprise at who stands in the doorway. Honestly, you weren't expecting it to be a Mandalorian, you were expecting someone else who was maybe a little bit bigger, but also green.

Maybe the little one is a foundling? That or he’s green under that thing.

The thought of the broad shouldered man standing in your shop squeezing pointy ears underneath his helm makes a laugh tickle in the back of your throat.

You'd heard your patrons talk about the Mandalorian who lived just outside of town, in hushed whispers around the crunch of pastry within your shop. The one that everyone steered clear of for fear that he would hurt them and take their children in the night, as if he was a creature that dwelled in a cave crouched over piles of gold. The people in town were all afraid of him, said that he was a blood thirsty bounty hunter who should be avoided at all costs, but seeing him stand here in your shop, arms crossed over his chest, hip cocked to the side, while looking down at the small child on the counter, you don't feel afraid.

The child coos happily and reaches up with two sticky hands opening and closing, asking to be picked up by the intimidating figure.

They never said he was a dad.

Despite their reputation, Mandalorians didn't scare you. When your brother left trying to find an outlet for his anger, he had found solace with a small clan of Mandalorians inhabiting a planet in the Outer Rim. They'd taken him in when he needed a home and given him a place where he could learn to control the rage he kept close to his heart. You were grateful for that, but it didn't make you miss him any less.

Whenever he would visit, he'd bring members of his clan with him all of which who were nothing but kind to you. But you still worried about him.

You worried he wasn't eating enough and when he came you would spend most of your time cooking for him and his new family. It was never a bother, you liked doing that for other people, cooking for them and taking care of them when no one else could. It was a form of comfort and warmth you believed that no one should be deficient of. In your heart everyone deserved to feel at home and have someone who wanted to take care of them.

"He belong to you?" You smile at the man standing just inside the doorway. He's so tall that he'd had to duck when he came in through the front door.

"Yes." He lets out another sigh that pops and crackles in the modulator.

"Well, I'm glad you found him, at the rate he's going, he's probably going to eat everything I have."

The man tilts his head to the side as if confused. You wonder if maybe you came on too strong or if it's just a habit of his, to size up everyone he comes in contact with.

He is a bounty hunter. Probably picked it up along the road somewhere.

His armor is a startling silver, sending flickers of the sunshine behind him over the walls of your bakery. You'd never met a Mandalorian who didn't paint their Beskar. Your own brother's was painted in shades of red and orange, and embossed with his clan sigil in a startling white.

But there was something about this Mandalorian's armor that was almost… pretty, but you supposed it was the same glinting beauty of a knife sitting on a kitchen counter, beautiful but deadly.

You look back down at the creature, who touches your hand and points back at the Uj'alayi in the case as if asking for another. The three fingers are sticky with the remnants of the desert. "Fine. One more. But I don’t want you to spoil your dinner."

You reach back into the case for another crumbling brown square to give to him with a laugh on your lips and watch as the skin around his little black eyes crinkles in gratitude before he bites into the treat.

The Mandalorian approaches cautiously and despite the helmet, you can feel his eyes on you, contemplative and curious.

"Is that Uj cake?" His voice comes out through the harsh buzz of the modulator.

"Yeah it's Uj'alayi. He really seems to like it. Is he your foundling?" When you look up and smile at the helm, you can only see your reflection in the brilliant metal of the armor.

Surprise flickers across your mind. You weren't expecting him to still be wearing the helmet and you're not used to talking to someone who didn't reveal their face to you. It was a little odd.

Whenever your brother or his friend Josh were talking to you, they always took off their helmets, but this felt different.

Honestly, even though he had the visor, you still weren't quite sure where to look to make eye to (through the helmet) eye contact.

Is it rude to tell him to take it off?

You'd never been put in this kind of position before, so you decide to ignore it.

"Yes." The helm turns from you to the other Uj cakes in the case. "Did you make it?"

You nod, blushing with pride.

"Are you Mandalorian? Do you speak Mando'a?" The Mandalorian asks, you can't but help notice that he sounds a little bit hopeful.

"No, I'm sorry. My mother was from Mandalore, it's her recipe." You admit sheepishly.

He nods in understanding.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments watching the child eat on your counter, the sticky brown cake smeared against his cheeks.

It gives you a moment to size up the Mandalorian out of the corner of your eye. Again, you're struck by how beautiful the armor is. A brilliant silver and polished to a shine, proud, but not haughty. There's a charcoal cowl that wraps around the base of his throat and extends into a cape behind him and he's wearing a set of tan and brown gloves to ensure that no part of his skin is showing.

I wonder if it gets hot under there. Nevarro isn't exactly temperate.

And when the Mandalorian turns to the left to look at the other mulit-colored pastries in the display case and you catch a glimpse of the sigil of a Mudhorn on his shoulder.

Makes sense that someone so formidable would have that as their clan sigil.

Your brother's clan had the sigil of one of the large birds that inhabited the cliffs of their home planet. Each child had to scale the cliffs and bring back the skull when they came of age to prove their strength and prove that they were worthy of the mark.

I wonder what he did to get that as his sigil.

Your eyes fall back on the creature munching happily on the pastry.

"Look at you, you're a mess." You laugh, pulling a napkin from your pocket and wetting it with your tongue before wiping it over the little one's face to clean him.

He squeals indignantly, but you avoid the impetuous swipes of his hand as he tries to push you away.

"He doesn't like it when you do that." The Mandalorian says, but you can hear some humor come through the crackle of the modulator.

"I can see that." You snort, before disposing of the napkin. "Here, you take some. He really likes it and you should try it. It's my favorite thing to make for the shop." You turn back to the case and wrap up several squares for the Mandalorian to take with him. “I’m-” you say your name, busying yourself with folding the tissue paper around the pastry.

He whispers your name back to you as if he's trying it out and you're not prepared for the warmth that travels through your body when he does.

That's weird.

When you give him the bag, he holds out a handful of credits, but you push his fingers into a fist, feeling the rough scrape of his gloves against your fingertips. "It's okay. Free for first time customers. Plus it was payment enough to see this little one."

You give the kid an affectionate pat on the head, who coos and reaches for your face. It makes you laugh at how friendly he is and you pick him up so he can lay his hand on your cheek. He squeezes it between his fingers, crinkling his eyes with a wide smile. "Aww. You gotta go with your dad now okay? But you can come back and visit me any time you want."

The Mandalorian is watching you, and you again wonder why he hasn't removed his helmet to say hello.

I'll ask Elijah about it.

You were sure your brother would be showing up soon. When you sent him the transmission that you finally opened the shop, he said he was excited at the prospect of eating sweets for free, as if he already didn't do that.

I miss him.

It had been at a few months since you'd last seen him, right after you sold your grandmother's home and before you moved to Nevarro. He'd tried to talk you out of opening the shop, asked you to stay with him for a little while, but you thought it was about time you went out on your own.

You hand the child to the man standing on the other side of the counter, trying not to notice how his muscles flex beneath his Beskar when he does or how broad and wonderfully tall he is. So broad and strong that you know he could probably lift you just as easily and the thought makes a flush burn against your cheeks.

Get a grip, he's not a piece of meat.

"Thank you." He says in the buzzing monotone, but it makes you long to hear his real voice.

"You're welcome. Come back anytime."

"We will."

"Good. I'll look forward to it. It was nice to meet you-" You hesitate.  "Um- Actually, I didn't catch your name."

The Mandalorian doesn't answer immediately as if he's mulling it over in his head, while the child coos and giggles in his hand touching the bottom of the helmet on his father's head. It was a startling contrast the the formidable form of the Mandalorian to have a wriggling bundle of joy in his arms, one that made you smile just a little wider.

"Din." He says in a whisper.

"Din." You repeat slowly, rolling the name around in your mouth and enjoying how it sounds on the tip of your tongue. "It was nice to meet you Din." You smile widely up into the helmet, watching the reflection of yourself glinting in the metal.

Din doesn't move for a minute, he's hesitating, and it makes your smile falter on the end of your mouth for a moment in confusion.

Did I do something wrong?

But then he nods once and leaves, the only clue that he'd been there is the almost empty batch of Uj Cake and the brown crumbles covering your counter.

The next few days pass in a blur of you baking, cleaning, and selling as many sweets as you can while trying not to think about Din and the kid, but it's proving to be impossible.

You didn't understand why you were so focused on them. You'd had many customers that day and on the days that followed, but for some reason you couldn't get him out of your head.

When you'd lie awake at night you'd remember how he sounded when he said your name, how you wished that he would remove his helmet to look at you and let you see what he looked like, because with a voice like that the man underneath had to be just as beautiful-

Stop.

You cheeks warm as you clean the counters with a wet rag, your back to the door while you try to forget Din and his voice. This had never happened to you before, being unable to stop thinking about someone.  But each time everything went quiet, your mind would flash to the image of Din ducking to get though the front door of your shop and the sound of his voice through the helm.

The clock on the wall behind the register stated that it was exactly two minutes past closing time, which meant that you were about an hour away from crashing in your bed. You still had to clean the ovens, and pack away any leftover supplies. Not to mention the tossing and turning that came when you would lie awake and think about Din, hoping he would come back.

I need to get over this. He's just a man you met one time. Don't romanticize him.

You blamed the stack of books on your bedside table, the ones you read over and over about adventures all over the galaxy and true love. It also didn't help that you'd never once had a relationship, but why would you when it was more exciting to live vicariously through your favorite heroines? Not to mention you didn't have to make a fool of yourself falling for someone who probably thought you were just a weird person who smiled too much and baked for fun.

You wondered if that was why Din hesitated before leaving the other day when you smiled at him, that he couldn't figure out why you were so happy.

The bell on the door rings behind you, pulling you out of your head.

"I'm sorry we're closed." You respond without turning around, fingers scrubbing with the cloth at a particularly stubborn smudge.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize how late it was." Din's familiar voice floats through the air and makes a shiver travel down your spine.

"Din. Hey." You smile as you turn around, waving a hand, cloth still clasped between your fingers. "It's okay, you're always welcome."

He's still wearing his armor and helmet, the silver catching in the dim lights of the room, contrasting with the yellowed light that streams from the streetlights outside and emphasizes his figure.

Your eyes drop to the bag hanging on his hip expecting to see the child, but it lies empty.

"You're alone today." You say a little disappointed, but still happy that Din is here.

"Grogu's asleep. I didn't want to wake him." Din clears his throat.

"Grogu." You say the name back to him slowly. It didn't seem to fit the small child who swung his little feet on the end of your counter and shoved as much pastry into his mouth as he could. "That's an interesting name."

"Came with the kid." Din's voice shifts a little bit and you wonder if it means he's smiling at a memory. Your mind predictably begins to imagine what Din's smile must look like. "I was wondering if you had any Uj cake left." He continues, oblivious to your train of thought.

"You're in luck, I just pulled a tray out of the oven for tomorrow. Come on back." You motion with your hand for him to follow you through the curtain that divides the front of the shop from the kitchen. "Sorry it's a little bit messy, haven't had time to clean up back here yet."

The kitchen looked exactly as it should, two large ovens on the right wall with fire still burning underneath, a sink filled with dirty mixing bowls, spoons, and utensils, a large table in the center of the room that served as a counter top, and in the corner there was a plush armchair that you had fallen asleep in more than once with a book open on your chest.

Your apartment was a few doors down, but you found yourself spending more time here. So much in fact that you were contemplating moving in to the back of the shop. You didn't have many possessions, mostly books, and seriously started thinking about it last night because the people who lived on top of your basement apartment were so loud that you could see the floor vibrating with the sound of their yelling.

You walk over to the tray of reddish-brown pastry cooling a rack in the center of the kitchen.

"It's alright. You should see where I live." He freezes on the edge of the room, realizing what he said, but you only laugh.

"I'm sure its no worse than my apartment. I’ve lived here a few weeks and I’m still not completely unpacked. Each time I go home I have to avoid stubbing my toe on the boxes”  You pick up a knife to cut the pastry into generous sized pieces. "But I guess you liked the Uj cake to come back here so late." You tease him, glancing up with a smile. "Midnight craving?"

He laughs and it makes your heart stutter to a halt. Even through the helmet it's hypnotic and you want to hear it again. "It was good, it reminded me of-" Din stops mid-sentence.

"Of?" You look up into his helm, wanting to hear more.

Truthfully, you were curious about him. You wanted to know more about the Mandalorian who lived on the outskirts of town, the one that everyone else seemed avoid.

"When I was a kid." He says it quieter, almost embarrassed.

"Me too. Whenever I make it I feel like I'm in my grandmother's kitchen again." You smile to yourself as the memory of her washes over you again. "She's been gone for a few years now, but I like to think that I honor her memory by baking, she taught me everything I know. Raised my brother and me by herself." You wrap the squares in tissue paper before placing them in a white paper bag.

"What about your parents?"

His question surprises you, you didn't think that he actually cared enough to listen.

"They-um- they died when I was little. My brother and I were visiting my grandmother when it happened."

"I'm sorry." Din sounds sincere.

You shrug. "I can’t remember them. My brother remembers more..." You trail off a little bit. "It was harder on him, but somehow it all turned out okay." You hand him the bag, but when he tries to reach for the credits at his belt, you push his hand away. "I don't make friends pay."

“But-“

“Din, I refuse to let you pay.” You smile wider, saying it a little more forcefully, but it holds no bite. “Don’t make me ban you for life.” I don't want to do that to Grogu."

He huffs out a laugh. "Thank you." His helmet tilts down towards you and you again try to imagine what he looks like underneath.

Would he have a strong jaw covered in a thick beard? Curly blonde hair that falls past his shoulders? Green eyes with flecks of light that resemble the stars?

No matter how many times you thought about it over the past few days, nothing seemed to fit Din.

There's an audible silence between the both of you as you stand there in the kitchen, and you don't want him to leave yet.

“You’re welcome.” You could feel yourself beginning to blush a little under his gaze. It was odd to feel someone’s eyes on you and not know what they looked like. "Now, don't forget to share with the kid. He deserves some of that too." You say raising an eyebrow and pointing to the white bag in the Mandalorian's hand.

Din chuckles. "Thank you-" He says your name and it makes the warm feeling come rushing back.

Even through the helmet, it was inviting, and made you want to curl up in the feeling it brought over you. You try not to imagine what it might sound like if he wasn't wearing the helmet.

"You're welcome Din. Don't be a stranger."

"I won't." He hesitates again, the same way he did when you'd first met in your shop. Standing in front of you for another few fleeting moments, his head tilted curiously in your direction. And for just a second you think that Din doesn't want to go either.

But he turns and shoulders his way through the curtain hanging in the doorway, boots thudding against the floor, and you hear the jingle of the door as he closes it behind him.

Something inside pricks when he leaves and maybe that scares you the most, the fact that you were already so attached to him and you didn't know anything about him except the rumors everyone in town said. The ones whispered on tremulous breath that condemned the man you were so curious about to be a blood thirsty bounty hunter who couldn't be trusted.

But in your heart those warnings held no power, because the man who'd sincerely cared about you losing your parents, couldn't be the same one.

Could he?

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! If you'd liked to be added to my taglist for fics in this universe please let me know!

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@jollyhunter

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

The Book - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x reader Rating: E. I cannot express this enough. E. E again. E a third time. Please for the love of god understand that I am saying E for a reason. DomJoel, unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), mirrors are involved? A bit of edging I suppose. Did I mention it's rated E? Word Count: 3503 a/n: This is....pure filth. I wrote some of it on an airplane. Idk how I did that. I don't even know where this came from honestly, and before you ask, no, I don't have a particular book in mind. Uh...enjoy?

You wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't said anything.

After all, the book he was holding wasn't exactly your top concern when you stepped into the bedroom. Not when he was sitting on the edge of the bed, wet curls slicked back against his head. All you could see were the faint trails of water running down his bare chest, running swiftly across his skin until they reached...

"What's this you're reading?" he asks, interrupting your thoughts before they can go any further.

It takes no time for you to feel the heat in your cheeks, but you try to remain calm. "Just a rom-com," you note smoothly, hopeful that perhaps he hasn't actually opened the book. After all, he does this sometimes. He'll pick up whatever it is you're currently devouring out of genuine interest, regardless of the content. "Just something one of my friends recommended to me."

He reaches for you, securely wrapping his arms around your waist so the edge of the book presses up against the small of your back when he tugs you to stand between his legs. "Just a rom-com, huh?"

You nod, trying your best to plaster a somewhat realistic smile on your face, as though you're not at all flustered by the towel that's barely covering his body or the way he's questioning you, but when he opens the novel to where you'd left off the night before, the spine cracking as he spreads the pages wide, it's obvious that he knows.

"She gasped as he picked up the pace," he begins to read, and you silently curse your friend for insisting you read this book in the first place. "Come on, baby. Come on," he continues, not unlike the way he talked you through it last night when you basically attacked him after finishing the most recent chapter.

"How much have you read?" you interrupt, effectively stopping him before he can continue to the next sentence.

"Enough," he returns with a sly smile, the look in his eyes dark and hungry. "If I'd have known that this is the kind of stuff you like, I would've..."

"It's not," you blurt out, the lie falling from your lips just a little too fast as embarrassment floods your veins. "I mean," you clear your throat, "not really. It's nice to read, but I like you in my bed."

"So you don't want me to fuck you in the bathroom so you can watch in the mirror as I take you?"

Every last breath of air leaves your lungs. "No, I mean...I wouldn't say...it's not something I've..." you stumble over your words. If you'd indeed been imagining him doing just that less than 24 hours ago when you'd reached that scene, he didn't need to know that.

"I see," he mumbles, surprising you by standing abruptly. He tosses the book back onto your bedside table before crossing to his dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers before you can stop him.

"Joel?" you ask, voice soft as you mirror his movements, meeting him across the sheets of your bed as he slips beneath the covers and reaches to turn off the light. "I really don't need..." you start, knees settling on the mattress beside him as you try to quell the awkwardness that's now lingering.

He drags you into the bed beside him with strong hands on your hips, kissing you firmly once you land. "You do, and I can give it to you."

You still, the tension reaching a boiling point as he directs your movements so he's settled you innocently both onto your pillows, his arms drawing you back against his warm body. "Just say you want it," he adds, his voice a whisper against your neck.

"I do," you return, helpless to respond otherwise.

"Okay."

You wake the next morning to the sound of the sink running in the bathroom. You barely slept, hyperaware of every movement he made during the night, wondering if at any moment he might roll you onto your stomach and fuck you into the mattress. Instead, he sought your warmth like it was any other night, cuddling against you as he slept soundly in your arms.

Now, as his spot on the bed grows cold beside you and you mindlessly squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to calm the dull ache between them, you start to wonder if perhaps you'd just imagined the entire thing.

"Morning, sweetheart," Joel greets you casually as he returns to the bedroom, still in just his boxers. He moves to your side of the bed to press a soft kiss to your lips before returning to the closet as though nothing happened.

You study him, the way the muscles in his back move as he draws his t-shirt over his head and at the firm expanse of his legs as he tugs his jeans over his skin, obscuring it from your view. "Joel?" you ask, not unlike you had the night before, squirming as you try to get comfortable.

He doesn't respond as he returns to the bathroom to brush his teeth, so with a deep sigh you take things into your own hands. If he won't get you off, then you will. Slowly, you let your fingers slip beneath the sheets that cover you, past the thick flannel that still smells a bit like him even draped over your own body, and to your wanting center.

As you let your fingers circle your clit, you wish for the rough texture of his hands, but it doesn't take long for you to work yourself up, the sound of running water drowning out the whimpers that fall from your lips. It's only when he pauses in the doorway that you catch something that looks a bit like jealousy in his gaze. He's at your side in seconds, yanking your hand away from you and, in turn, ripping away the climax that had been so close you could nearly taste it.

You open your mouth to protest, but he silences you with two short sentences. Ones that he utters with lips hovering just over yours, close enough for you to taste the peppermint on his breath but far enough away that you long desperately for more.

"You don't get to come until I say so," and "I'll see you when I get home."

And then, he's gone, leaving you a muttering, dripping mess on the bed.

Against all odds, you make it through the workday, and if your coworkers noticed the way you shifted continuously in your chair in an effort to ease the constant ache between your thighs, they didn't say anything. The drive home isn't any better, your foot nearly against the floorboard as you race to where you hope Joel is waiting for you.

But he's not, the realization that the house is quiet and empty hitting you like a punch to the gut when you step into the garage to find his truck still gone. For a moment, you debate disobeying his instructions and heading upstairs to finish what you started this morning, but then you realize that perhaps you could use something to set the mood first.

The book.

Climbing the stairs to the bedroom, you find that it's not where Joel left it on your nightstand the night before. In your lustful haze this morning, you hadn't even though of grabbing it to continue reading on your lunch break, but you'd assumed it would still be there. With a hum, you begin to search the room, ultimately ending up on your knees to check beneath the bed.

"Looking for this?"

Joel's voice seems to come out of nowhere, but when you jump, turning to find him standing with a shoulder pressed up against the doorframe, you find the novel in question in his hands.

"Fuck, baby, don't scare me like that," you chastise him, shifting back onto your knees as he steps closer. "You're about to stand up when he puts a hand on your shoulder. "Babe?"

"Were you?" he asks again, a little firmer this time as he holds the book in front of you.

Your eyebrows raise, staring up at him. "Yeah, I was, but..." Something about the way he's looking at you makes you stop talking. It's easy to feel vulnerable when you're on your knees before him like this, and while Joel is typically more sweet than he'd ever let on, there's no mistaking what he's thinking right now.

"Do you like how controlling he is?" he continues his interrogation, and you know now that he's obviously talking about the lead in the book, the section he'd read out loud last night racing through your mind.

"Joel, I..." you stutter, despite the fact that you're well aware that you technically asked for this.

"Answer the question," he continues forcefully, sucking in a breath through his teeth. "Do you like how he leaves her begging for more? How he has her whimpering as she begs to come?"

Fuck.

Your mouth opens and closes automatically, every word you've ever known suddenly escaping your mind as you try your best to form a sentence. Any sentence, really, even though you're well aware that there's only one answer he'll accept right now. After all, anything else would be a lie and you both know it.

"Yes."

He pauses, just for a moment, gaze softening as his calloused fingers run down your cheek. "Shiplap?" he draws out.

"Shiplap," you confirm with barely a nod of your head. It's the safe word you'd chosen ages ago when you'd admitted that you hardly knew what he was talking about when it came to his job. He'd explained every term patiently, slowly introducing you to his world. He'd followed the lesson by fucking you on his workbench in the garage, a memory that sparks in your mind as you kneel before him now.

Joel doesn't give you much time to reminisce though, because a second later the book flies across the room, the spine hitting the wall with a thud that you'll be upset about later, but right now all you know is the way his fingers are ripping at the closure of his jeans, tugging the material down so he can pull out his half-hard cock. "Come on, open up."

It's all you can do to obey, lips parting so he can force his length into your mouth, his hands quickly curling in the hair at the back of your head. He's not small, even now, and it isn't long before he's encouraging you to wrap a hand around the base of his hardening length, your other hand joining of its own accord to cup his balls.

You smile around him when it elicits a moan from his lips.

Somewhere along the line, probably soon after he pulls you off him to spread the precum that leaks from his tip along your lips, you realize that he's apparently read more of the book than you anticipated because suddenly you recognize what's happening. You know this scene. Which means you know exactly what happens next.

"Come on," he encourages you, "strip." There's no assistance as you rip at your clothing, following his instruction a moment later to climb onto the bed. He's busy shedding the remainder of his own clothing, but his gaze barely leaves your form for a second, and by the time he joins you, you're already perched on top of the blankets, one hand wiping at the remnants of him from your mouth. "Spread," he demands.

"And if I don't?" you tease, following the script of the book perfectly as you deny him, shifting so you have one knee slanted over the other.

There's a crack in his demeanor, just a second of hesitation because you know he's trying to scan your face for any actual sign of refusal. A signal that this isn't what you want, as though he's just waiting for you to drop your safe word, but instead you nod, reassuring him that you're fine.

And then his expression hardens again. He parts your thighs roughly so he can move between them, falling perfectly back into step with the novel. "You will."

What he finds at the apex of your thighs only confirms what you both already knew. Reality is a lot fucking better than anything in your book, and you're fairly certain that he's about to prove just how much better it is.

"I think you've been needy all day. I bet you wanted so badly to make yourself come on your fingers," he teases, his own digits trailing along the skin of your inner thigh, closer and closer before pulling back. "Is that right?"

You nod, words replaced by only a squeak of confirmation. The rough pads of his fingertips finally find your core a moment later, circling through the absolute mess you've tried to conceal since he left you in bed this morning. His movements are quick to draw the moan from your lips that he was searching for, his other hand forcing your thighs further apart to give him better access.

"You're so fucking wet," he mutters, almost in disbelief. "Do you get like this every time you read that book?"

There's no use in trying to deny the reality that you do, although the squelching sound of his fingers as they work themselves into you confirms what you're also so very aware of.

This isn't because of the book. This is because of him. It could only ever be because of him.

"Joel," you whine as your world starts to spin, hands scrambling for something to hold onto as he presses a third finger into your heat.

He recognizes what you're doing instantly and gathers your hands in one of his so he can guide them to the headboard. "Keep them there."

When the character in the novel is given the same instruction, she doesn't heed the command, fighting back against her lover in a way that you have no intention of replicating now. She might've been stronger than you, but right here, right now, there would be no need for him to tie your wrists to the frame. Not with the tense grip you have on the wood, knuckles white from the effort.

But still, he obviously did his homework, because just as you're about to tip over the edge, he pulls away in a dramatic motion and, for the second time today, rips you from the opportunity to find your release.

"What the fuck?" you cry out, immediately writhing on the mattress in a wild mix of frustration and anticipation that has your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

"Not yet," he demands, sitting back on his knees as he looks down at you, slowly drawing his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. "You wanna come so badly, don't you, baby?" he asks, his eyes locked on yours.

Something clicks then, and you glance briefly to where the book now sits on the floor, a few pages now rumpled from the way he'd thrown it, and just like that, you're back on track, shaking your head. "No. I want to watch you make me come."

The grin that expands on his face is nearly giddy, a sure sign that he's enjoying this just as much as you are. "Well then," he returns, gathering you in his arms so he can lift you from the bed, "who would I be to deny you?"

In the novel, there's a mirror in the same room as the bed, situated perfectly across from where the main character is taken by her lover. You have no such mirror, but as Joel whisks you into the bathroom, settling you on the counter, you have to laugh.

"Joel, I don't think this is exactly..."

He shushes you with a finger to your lips, "just trust me."

On his knees in front of you a moment later, he guides your hands to his hair as he quickly licks through your folds, your head slamming forcefully against the glass behind you the second his tongue laps at your clit. The orgasm that's been ripped from you twice already teases at the edges of your consciousness, your hips shifting to nearly hang off the edge of the counter as he eats you out.

"Please," you whisper, eyes snapped shut while you chase your high. "Please let me come this time."

For a second, you think he might just let you, the tingling at the base of your spine threatening to consume you, and then it's all gone again. A frustrated groan starts to register in your lungs, but it's a cry that leaves your lips instead when he eases his cock into you in one, swift stroke.

The action forces you over the edge, walls clenching tightly around his length. He holds steady inside you, letting you spasm around him, your fingers raking faint red lines across his chest as they once again search for something to ground you. "That's it, that's it," he draws out, waiting until your high seems to fade just a bit before swiftly pulling out and slamming back in.

It's all too much as he sets a brutal pace, your hips inching higher on the counter with the force of it all. He's got a firm grip on your hips, teeth clenched as he moves with precision. The height of the counter puts him at the perfect angle, one that has you wondering if he's trying to set some kind of world record for how quickly he can guide you through a second orgasm.

But before you can reach it, he stops again, cock slipping from your folds just long enough for him to pull you off the counter and turn you around, his hand firm against your upper back as he presses you down against it. Your breasts are pressed against the cool surface, your face a mere inches from the mirror in front of you, and while you can't see the way he guides himself back into you, you can see the look in his eyes.

"This what you wanted?" Joel asks you then, his question from the night before echoing in your mind. When you don't answer, he pulls his cock from you, the tip waiting at your entrance for a response, "tell me."

You nod helplessly, your head falling down so your forehead rests against the marble when he plunges back inside you. He stills again, just long enough to wrap a hand around your throat, forcing your head back up to lock your eyes together once more in the reflection of the mirror.

"You're gonna look at me, got it? You're gonna watch me make you come, and then I'm gonna, what was it?" he asks, tough demeanor dropping for a split second as he tries to remember the wording. "Oh yeah, I'm gonna fuck you full of my load."

"Please," you cry out, shocking even yourself at this point, because all you need right now is for him to do just about anything. You don't particularly care as long as he fucking moves, and finally he does.

It's hard to ignore the way he grips you, not with the large expanse of his hands firm on your hips to keep you in place. His chest is covered in a layer of sweat, glistening as he rocks into you. His jaw is clenched tight, surely warding off his own climax as he works you closer to the edge once more, a focus that you can see in the way he keeps his gaze locked on yours.

"Come on, baby. Come on," he mutters, his voice low as he shifts, tugging you up further so your feet barely touch the ground. It changes the angle just enough to spark your orgasm, black edging in on your vision as you force yourself to keep your eyes open through the haze.

It also triggers his release in seconds, warm spurts coating your walls as he grunts behind you.

"Fuck, fuck," he chants out, hips stuttering against yours until he stills completely. You both sound like you've just run a marathon, breathing heavily as he eases your feet back to the ground and lets his cock slip from your folds, release trickling down your thighs.

You turn in his grasp, his hands sliding over your skin leisurely as you wrap your arms around his neck, a wide smile on your face even as you kiss him. "Thank you," you offer when you pull back.

Joel's lips follow yours, kissing you again with a passion that reminds you of just how much he loves you. "Just promise me one thing," he whispers when he finally lets you come up for air.

Your eyebrows shoot up, eyes narrowing as you look at him. "You got a secret fantasy I don't know about, Miller?"

He smiles. "Wouldn't you like to find out?"