#tag: upper crust

[rip-quizilla]

1405 Peach Tree Lane

Pairing: Older!Neighbor!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You like to watch your older, tatted shirtless neighbor now his lawn. He likes to watch you laying by your parents’ pool in those swimsuits that make his mouth water. Eventually, the inevitable happens when he invites you across the street for a drink.

Word Count: 8.2K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, slight breeding kink, spitting, light dom/sub, unprotected sex (reader has an iud), oral sex, p in v sex, shower sex, masturbation in a hot tub

(A/N: This is some of the filthiest shit I think I've ever written. You're welcome. Also I was very quick with the proofread, so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, no you don't.)

💜💜💜

Everyone in the posh gated community of Forest Hills knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane.

The house was beautiful, as were all the houses in the upper-crust neighborhood- but the house wasn’t what people paid attention to.

Every housewife in the neighborhood knew that if they were lucky and timed their morning jog just right, they’d catch a glimpse of the toned, inked-up adonis who lived there while he shirtlessly mowed his lush green lawn. 

You might not have done much speaking with the housewives in your parents’ neighborhood, but you knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane- you had a perfect view of its front lawn from your lounge chair by the pool in your parents’ backyard. Luckily for you, all that separated your backyard from 1405 was a short wrought iron fence and a narrow stretch of road.

You didn’t mind living with your parents during the summers you spent home from college; they gave you plenty of freedom and while they were at work during the day, you got to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool, reading a book and soaking up the sun.  

As well as soaking up the view of the way that same sunlight glinted off Mr. 1405’s sweaty, ink-riddled skin. 

You didn’t speak to him- what would you even say? “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, my favorite part of the day is guessing what your tattoos mean.”? Or maybe, “Hey there neighbor, mind if I count the freckles on your shoulders? It’s for science.”

Eventually, the inevitable happened- he caught you staring. 

He didn’t make it awkward, though. In fact, from the way he simply smiled and waved at you, you wondered if he thought your eyes meeting him had just been a coincidence, and you hadn’t been ogling him for the past thirty minutes and some change. You’d smiled back, thankful for your huge sunglasses that hid the way your eyes had widened under his attention, and waved in return. 

An even bigger surprise had been that he spoke to you this time. 

“That book any good?” 

His voice, heavy with labored breathing under the exhaustion from finishing up his lawn work, had caught you completely off guard. You’d laughed nervously, sticking your bookmark between the pages and pushing yourself up from your face-down position on the flattened lounge chair. 

“Oh! Ah-ha, uhm, yeah!” you shifted your weight back until you were sitting on spread knees and looking up at the source of the voice. On the other side of your parents’ fence stood Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, sweaty and slightly sunburned on the tops of his shoulders. His curly brown hair had been piled into a messy knot atop his head, and you took note of the details that you hadn’t noticed from far away- a smattering of silver studs that decorated his ears, along with one on his nose. Five o’clock shadow that dusted his jawline. A more detailed view of his tattoos, some of which looked older than others but all of which looked very, very sexy on this man who had so much sex appeal already. 

The crinkling of his plastic water bottle as he squeezed about half of it into his mouth filled the silence between you. After a loud gulp he piped up again.

“What’s it about?”

Your brow wrinkled confusedly before you remembered that he had just asked you about your book. “Oh!” you replied dumbly, looking down at the book as if you had completely forgotten that books even existed- looking at him had taken up your entire mental capacity, apparently. “It’s, uh, it’s a memoir! It’s this cool old lady’s life story, she does not hold back, so the narration is pretty hilarious a lot of the time.”

The inked-up Greek god smiled and nodded, eyebrows raising in interest. “That does sound good.” he mused, and his voice took on a slyer tone when he added, “What’s your definition of old, like thirty-five?” He chuckled as if he’d just told a funny joke, but your smile had all but fallen from your face. 

“That’s not old,” you replied, not taking the joke, “This author was in her late seventies when she published this book, but even with that being said, this book is just told through such a youthful spirit- it’s easy to forget how old the author is when looking at her words.” You gripped the paperback a little tighter in your sweaty hands. “Plus, old people definitely don’t have the energy to mow their own lawns, and I have a feeling you’re not thirty-five.” 

That seemed to catch him off-guard. A surprised laugh escaped him, exploding from his lips before they formed an intrigued grin and his arms crossed over his tattooed chest. 

“Oh yeah? How old do I look, then?”

You grinned back, making a show of removing your sunglasses so that you could peer at him with greater focus. “Hmmmmmm…thirty-six?” 

Another laugh, this one heartier than the last. “You flatter me, sweetheart.” 

God, his voice is like brown sugar.

You tried again. “Forty, then.”

“Older.”

“No way.”

His grin became a smirk. “Are you patronizing me right now?”

You threw up a girl scout salute. “Scout’s honor, I would never.” 

He chuckled. “Well, girl scout, I’ll be forty-five next month.”

“I’ll be sure to warn my parents about the rager you’ll be throwing.”

He peered up at your house behind you, like he just now noticed its- and your parents’- existence. “Nah,” he said, “No ragers for me, that ship sailed when I was your age.”

You smiled sweetly, placing your sunglasses atop your head. “At least let me bake you a cake, then, wouldn’t be neighborly to let you have a boring birthday.”

“You’d bake a cake for ‘lil old me, sweetheart?” His tattooed hand splayed over his heart, sweaty and shining in the blaring afternoon sun.

You giggled. You could get used to Mr. 1405 calling you ‘sweetheart’. 

“Sure thing, just tell me what name to write in between ‘happy birthday’ and ‘forever young’.”

A flash of dazzling white teeth replied, “Eddie. Eddie Munson.” 

That was when you rose a step above the housewives of Forest Hills- to them, he was still Mr. 1405, but to you? He was Eddie Munson.

You entertained yourselves with little conversations here and there whenever Eddie worked out on his lawn. You, always in a swimsuit and him, never wearing a shirt. You would ask him about his tattoos- what they symbolized, which ones he’d drawn himself before they were replicated on his flesh. He would ask you about what you were reading- it was always changing. Sometimes nonfiction, sometimes romance, fantasy, lit fic… he seemed impressed by your insatiable reading habits. 

One day, however, he’d been particularly interested in a book whose cover bore a bare-chested  gentleman and particularly busty woman in a corset. 

“What’s today’s read, girl scout?” Eddie had greeted you with a nod toward the obviously risque reading material and a knowing smirk as he let his arms dangle over the black bars of your fence. 

You looked up, glowing from the sweat that’s gathered on your dewy summer skin and smiled tightly. “Oh, just a period romance. Ball gowns, forbidden love, the scandalous touching of hands without gloves on- things like that.”

“From the looks of that cover, I don’t think their hands are the only naked body parts touching in that story.” 

You laughed, glancing at the cover as Eddie waggled his eyebrows. “You’re probably right, but who knows? I’m only on the second chapter. I’ll keep you posted though.” you punctuated that last part with a wink. 

“Oh please do, princess,” Eddie said with a wolfish grin. “I love a good smutty romance novel.” 

You gawked. “No way you read this shit, you’re bluffing.”

Eddie raised a hand as if swearing on a bible. “Scout’s honor.” he said, mimicking your swear from the day you’d met. 

You shook your head, smiling ear to ear. “You must be the first man I’ve met who openly admits to reading smut, and I respect that.”

Eddie shrugged. “Easiest way to know what women want- they’re literally writing me an instruction manual. It’d be stupid not to read them.”

You bit your bottom lip before you could stop yourself, making a mental note of that little tidbit of information. “And you enjoy them?”

“It’s porn, sweetheart,” he said, gazing at you incredulously. “Who wouldn’t enjoy it?”

“It’s porn with a plot.”

“I’m a sucker for a good plot, especially if the plot involves sucking.”

You barked out a laugh. “And one could also argue that it’s more emotional porn than physical.”

“Are you insinuating that I don’t have a heart? Because I’ve got one, princess, and it bleeds, it yearns-”

Eddie pantomimed grasping at his own heart in his chest, putting on a fucking one-man show as he hung onto the fence for dear life as if his heart were truly bleeding out. You laughed- that was something that seemed to happen more when Eddie was around- you laughed more than usual, so much that you found your cheeks aching whenever he walked away. 

This time, something else ached as you watched him return to his lawn. As you continued to read, you were acutely aware of the heat between your thighs, the wetness that accumulated as you pictured corseted girls and muscled viscounts making eyes at each other across a sea of dancing courtiers. You imagined yourself, cornered in a rich rose garden bathed in moonlight, struggling to stifle your moans as a man in a tailcoat left a mark on your neck. You felt his hand hiking up your layers of petticoats until it reached your thigh, the only thing separating skin from skin being the white fabric of his gloves. You pictured his eyes, brown and bottomless as he moaned at the feeling of your hands tangled and tugging on his soft brown curls-

Uh oh. 

You took a deep breath, bookmarked your page, and slipped into the cold water of the pool. You sincerely hoped that Eddie hadn’t been serious about an update on the smut in your novel; you didn’t exactly want to let slip that at some point, you’d stopped picturing the viscount and started picturing him. 

But would he mind? Would he be upset to know that you’d pictured his hands on you, his lips on your pulse, your fingers in his hair? 

You weren’t sure he would. 

In fact, you had a feeling he might actually picture you in situations that weren’t too different. After all, you weren’t blind- you’d noticed the way his eyes would flit down from your face when the two of you were talking. He didn’t seem to put much effort into hiding his once-overs, his raking gaze that seemed more than pleased by the way your swimsuits hugged your curves, pulled your cleavage together, cut higher on your hip than your shorts ever would. Whenever you pulled yourself up from lying on your stomach, you’d seen how his eyes followed your ass hungrily as it left his line of sight. 

That was the moment that you realized- Eddie Munson, more than likely, wanted to fuck you. 

And you definitely wanted to fuck him. 

So the next time he came over to see you after mowing his lawn, you offered him a beer. 

“I’m already halfway through mine,” you said, leaning back to give him a full view of the way the sweat on your breasts shone in the hot sun. “don’t make me day drink alone.”

A salacious grin curled on his plush pink lips. “I could be tempted,” Eddie peered at the cooler beside you. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?”

You opened the cooler so that he could see the six pack of light lagers in shiny green bottles. Eddie wrinkled his nose distastefully. “Alright, young padawan,” he sighed, unlatching the gate to your backyard. “It’s time you learned your first lesson from Master Munson.” He didn’t enter the backyard, simply opened the gate and waited for you to join him outside your parents’ property. 

You quirked an eyebrow; this was new territory. That wrought iron fence had always served as a sort of barrier between the two of you, never occupying the same space and keeping each other at arm’s length- flirty banter, but with boundaries. 

Now, you smiled shrewdly as you slipped on your flip flops and crossed the threshold into Eddie’s space, following him across the narrow street to his driveway.

“Oh so I’m your student now, Master?” you quipped, launching him into a dark chuckle and a shake of his curls. 

“Christ,” he cursed under his breath low enough that he probably thought you hadn’t heard- but you did. “Well, your college friends are obviously shitty teachers if your drink of choice is a basic ass bottle you can grab at the goddamn gas station.” 

You scoffed, “Oh, what- are you trying to say you’re one of those pretentious beer snobs who only drinks micro-brewed IPA’s named after bad puns?”

Eddie laughed out loud, smiling ear to ear at you over his shoulder. “Oh that’s exactly what I am, princess!” The harsh sunlight finally relented as the two of you crossed into Eddie’s garage, and you followed him in a beeline to the old refrigerator in the corner opposite from his impressive-looking toolbench. 

You nearly moaned with relief when the cool air from the fridge hit you as Eddie opened the door and grabbed a couple of unmarked silver cans from the middle shelf. You eyed them cautiously, which Eddie saw and snorted at when he saw your expression. “Not poisoning you, sweetheart, no need to worry.” He opened a door beside the fridge that you guessed- judging by what you could see past the doorway- led to his kitchen. “A friend of mine is a home-brewer, he gives these to me and the guys for free. Way better than any cookie-cutter shit you’ll find at a college party.” He held the door open for you, nodding his head toward the doorway. “You coming inside? It’s hot as hell out here.”

You hadn’t expected him to invite you into his home; it occurred to you suddenly that you were still only wearing your swimsuit. Smiling shyly, you stepped through the doorway, the chill of the air conditioning rolling goosebumps over your damp skin. Eddie stepped into the kitchen and immediately began opening the cans, handing one to you. 

You eyed the can cautiously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know what I’m about to drink?’ 

He smiled mischievously, inclining his head toward you as he held his can aloft. “First lesson, padawan- trust your master.” He tilted the can in your direction, to which you sighed and tapped your can to his. 

Your eyes widened in surprise when the cold, bubbly liquid hit your lips. It wasn’t anything like you were expecting- instead of the tepid wheaty taste that you were used to. At first the drink was tart, but after a second it faded into a fruity dryness that reminded you of white wine. Its  flavor was so light that you couldn’t even tell you were drinking beer.

“This is beer?” 

Eddie chuckled. “Technically it’s a sour, but yes- it’s a type of beer. Dustin said it was a champagne sour, so if you like wine then hopefully this’d be up your alley.” 

You smiled as you took your second sip. “I do like wine.” you murmured, testing the flavors on your tongue. “Like this, too. Your friend ever think about selling what he brews?”

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, laughing as if the question were something funny. “Oh I have no doubt he’ll try to sell it one day, but he’s not going to even think about it until he knows he’s perfected his recipe.”

As you took another sip of the cold drink, you felt another wave of goosebumps run through you. Coincidentally, this was the moment that Eddie fell perfectly silent. You peered over your can- his eyes were fixed on your chest. You became acutely aware that the goosebumps had resulted in your nipples growing so hard, you thought if something-anything- were to accidentally brush against them, you might moan from the sensitivity. 

Stifling a smirk, you shivered and hugged your upper arms. “Brrrrr it’s cold in here!” you said coyly, “I guess my body temperature got a little too used to the heat.” 

Eddie’s chest heaved slightly at the way your tits bounced and squeezed together when you shivered. He cleared his throat, looking down at the beer can in his hand for a moment. “I’ve got a hot tub, you know,” He spoke up, peering at you to gauge your reaction. “Downstairs. You’re welcome to it.”

You took another sip. “Only if you join me.”

His dark eyes snapped up to yours, lips curling up at one corner. “Yes ma’am.” he said, his voice lowered an octave and a bit huskier than before. You held his eye contact, mirroring his lopsided grin with a charged, heavy-lidded gaze. 

Eddie led you to a staircase down the hall and said he’d be right back with a towel for you after he changed into swim trunks. 

“Aw, no speedo?” you smirked. Eddie appeared unphased. “Mental note,” he murmured to himself, “the princess is eager to see my thighs.”

You giggled, “There might be more tattoos there I haven’t seen yet,” you countered, “How am I supposed to keep figuring you out if I don’t know the meaning of each and every one?” 

Eddie placed his forearm above your head on the wall, leaning into it until he was close enough for you to feel his breath on your hairline. “You know, you seem to spend a lot of time staring at my body, kid-” You bristled at his blatant omission of the nicknames you liked. “-I’m starting to feel objectified.” 

You forced the smile from your face, looking up at him defiantly. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Munson,” you replied, “-and I’m not a ‘kid’.”

His position didn’t change as his eyes raked over your nearly naked body, drifting from your eyes to your lips and catching on your cleavage. “Don’t I know it, sweetheart.” he whispered, before pushing off the wall. “Hot tub’s already heated, just push off the cover and hit the green button. I’ll be down in a sec.”

And then he was walking down the hall to what you could only assume was his bedroom. For a moment, you thought about following him… but if you were honest with yourself, you were actually pretty curious about this hot tub. So down the stairs you went, carrying a silver can of sour in each hand.

Eddie’s basement was cozy, but he had utilized the space to its full potential. The majority had been filled with workout equipment to create a home gym, the walls lined with floor to ceiling mirrors that created the illusion of a larger space than it actually was. Sitting on stylish wooden slats was the hot tub, topped with a brown leather cover. To the right of the hot tub was a door with a small window that was just at your eye level. Upon closer inspection… yep, that was a sauna. Eddie had a sauna. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you made a mental note to ask Eddie what he did for a living- as far as you could tell, he was the only one who lived here. How did a single guy in his forties have so much money to burn? 

Placing yours and Eddie’s drinks down on a nearby surface, you removed the cover from the hot tub and pressed the green button as Eddie had instructed, and settled into the hot, bubbling water. God, it was relaxing. Just then, you heard footsteps descending the stairs.

Eddie appeared, his hair let down from his normal messy bun so that it fell in dark chocolate curls that cascaded over his shoulders. His swim trunks, simple and black with little white skulls lining the cuffs above his knees, hugged his thighs in a way that made you salivate. Tattoos you'd become all too familiar with danced across his skin, and you suddenly felt the need to taste them.  

Eddie smirked when he saw you getting an eyeful without even trying to hide it. “How’s the water?”

You hummed, relaxing further into jets against your back. “Sooooooo nice.” You sighed. 

Eddie climbed into the hot tub to join you, making you squeal as he practically fell into the water, splashing you as he submerged his head just enough to wet his hair and shake it out like a golden retriever.

You giggled, doing your best to ensure that your hair wasn’t wet enough to make you look like a wet rat. “I’m starting to think you’re a teenage boy trapped in the body of a middle-aged man.” 

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, tattooed arms stretching out over the edges of the tub as he relaxed into the seat across from you. “Hey now,” he said, voice laced with warning. “Careful with the term middle-aged there, kiddo.”

You matched his gaze, challenging. “Kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s gaze was heavy, cocky as he looked down his nose at you. “Practically a baby.”

You grinned. “That one, I don’t mind.”

Eddie’s smile grew in tandem. “Oh, she likes to be ‘baby’, but not ‘kiddo’, huh?”

You leaned back into the water, looking up at the ceiling with a smug smile on your lips. “That’s right, grandpa.”

Suddenly, you felt a tug on your ankle and you were underwater. You emerged, spitting chlorine out of your mouth, struggling to force it from your nose as Eddie’s cackling rang in your ears. You gasped, sputtering in shock as you tried to catch your breath. 

“You are a child!” you squealed as he tugged your ankle again- you hadn’t noticed his hold still grasping tightly- not forceful enough to bring you back under the surface but enough to remind you that he could.

“So not a grandpa, then?” Eddie teased, stroking the curve of your ankle with his thumb. 

You gritted your teeth together, strategizing. “No, that would be too kind. You’ve got the maturity of a teenager. Luckily for me-” 

Using Eddie’s grip on your ankle as leverage, you forcefully pulled yourself forward by your leg and launched yourself right into his lap, bending your knees so that a second later, you were straddling him. 

You watched triumphantly as Eddie’s eyes widened, looking up at you with breath that hitched in his throat as you finished your sentence. 

“-I know how boys like you think.”

The humor between the two of you dissipated in that instant, Eddie’s eyes blown wide and dark as he watched the way the water in your hair dripped down your neck and between your breasts, which were now inches from his face. If he leaned forward, he could catch that bead of water with his tongue. If he reached up, he could hold your tits in his hands, test their weight. Press them up, squish them together, squeeze…

You felt him growing hard beneath you, and smirked triumphantly. “See?” You said smugly, grinding against him teasingly. “Right on schedule.”

Eddie chuckled, his breathing strained as he shook his head exasperatedly. “Got me all figured out, do you princess?” 

You nodded, finding your rhythm as you continued to grind against his hardening cock through his swim trunks. “I think I’m starting to.”

You shivered despite the warmth as Eddie trailed his hand from your ankle up your leg, your hip, your waist…finally resting at the apex of your sternum to splay across your neck. You hadn’t been expecting that- you faltered, breath hitching as he tested out a gentle squeeze and hummed to himself.

“Mmmmm…” He looked you over with passive attention, taking account of the way your eyes widened and your pulse quickened under his thumb. “...you know, I’m starting to figure you out too.” His other hand cupped your hip, pulling you to sit directly on his erection and holding you in place so you couldn’t grind. “You’re used to getting away with shit you know you shouldn’t do, isn’t that right, baby?” You sighed softly in response, pinned into place by his lust-blown eyes. You balanced on a precipice- on one side, obedience, which you knew would satisfy him. On the other, eventual obedience with a little bit more fight; more of a gamble, but you were willing to bet that he would enjoy that best.

“You really thought you could eye-fuck me every damn afternoon,” Eddie said, his hand on your neck moving lower to fondle one of your breasts over your swimsuit. “-and there wouldn’t be consequences?”

You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling under his hand. “I mean…” you drawled, still smiling smugly despite his authoritative tone of voice. “...I was kinda hoping for consequences.” you brought both hands out of the water, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” 

A second passed before Eddie’s hands suddenly grabbed both of your wrists, forcing them behind your back. You gasped, cheeks hot from the water and the position you were in, straddling his lap with both shoulders shoved back to force your breasts front and center. He saw the look in your eyes and leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“I can get rough sometimes, baby.” he said, voice low and husky. “Tell me it’s too much at any point and I’ll stop, okay?” You nodded, a shy little mm-hm escaping your bitten lips. Eddie crossed your wrists over each other, holding them behind your back with one hand as his newly free one reached up to caress your cheek. 

“Fucking Christ, you’re cute.” he mumbled. “Cute little baby, all alone in her parents’ big house all day, so bored she had to go and be a slut for the neighbor. That right, baby?”

Your eyes were wide and wet, mouth opened in a slight pout as you ground your freed hips on his hard cock once again, whimpering needily. You nodded your head up and down, eager to hear more filthy words tumble from his lips. 

Eddie wasn’t satisfied with that. A hand came up to grasp your hair at the base of your neck, tugging on it firmly but not painfully to force your head to nod up and down emphatically. “Use your words, baby, say ‘yes, daddy, I was a slut.’”

You gasped, surprised. You’d never called anyone daddy besides your actual father, and you’d certainly never called anyone that in the bedroom- or a hot tub, for that matter. However, his brazen demand that you call him that while you straddled him like this sent rolling waves of pleasure straight to the apex of your thighs. 

“Y-yes… daddy…” You struggled against your instinct to be embarrassed, arching your back against your restrained hands and looking down shyly at your cleavage. “...I was a slut.”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and obedient. He was smiling at you, beaming with pride and adoration. His hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling your face to his. “Good girl, baby.” he praised, “I’m gonna kiss you, is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”

That earned you a chuckle. “So polite, baby girl, good job.” 

Eddie’s lips felt like the most comforting thing that a person could feel on their skin. His kiss felt like fresh sheets still warm from the dryer. His tongue was like a strawberry that was perfectly ripe, sweet and wet and a rush of relief. He explored you, he learned you, his lips devoured all they could reach and whenever they couldn’t reach, his tongue took over to fill in the blanks. 

As you whimpered and squirmed in his lap, Eddie cooed, “What’s the matter, baby, something wrong with your legs?”

You shook your head, moaning into his mouth. “I need something on my clit, Eddie.”

“Something? You’ll just take anything on that clit baby? Is that what you're saying?”

You panted, straining against his rock hard dick for some kind of friction. He was right, you would take anything. “Yes, please touch me, Eddie.”

He made no move to do so, only looking at you pointedly with his eyebrows raised. When you realized your mistake, you corrected, “Please touch me, daddy.”

He smiled smugly, a cat watching a mouse. “Good girl,” he praised, “but I’m not sure you’ve earned that.” 

Your face fell, eyes going wide as your lips formed a full-on pout. “But-” you began to stutter, but Eddie wasn’t finished. 

He let go of you, pushing you gently off you and guiding you under the water to one of the seats in the corner of the tub. The jets coming off it were strong, nearly too much on your back as you turned to sit, but Eddie stopped you before you could settle into the seat. 

“Princess, I want you to keep your knees open and ride your pussy on that jet stream until you cum.” 

Your jaw dropped open. Whipping your chin over your shoulder to look at him in his seat opposite you, you stared and waited for him to specify or maybe apologize for misspeaking- there’s no way you heard him right. But then he repeated himself, and you realized that yes, you had. 

“Press your pussy up against that jet stream under the water, and make yourself cum. Don’t use your hands. Don’t rush. I want you to fall apart in my hot tub, and I’m going to stroke my dick while I watch you do it. That okay, sweetheart?”

You were learning a lot of new information about your neighbor today. 

You smiled devilishly over your shoulder at him, taking in the sight of him lounging in the opposite corner of the tub as he took in the sight of you. “You’re a kinky motherfucker, aren’t you?” 

Eddie reached across the tub and wound an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick but heated kiss. “Yeah, I am.” he murmured into your lips before pushing you back toward the jets. “Now make yourself cum, I want you tight.”

He laughed at the pathetic little whimper that you let slip involuntarily as you situated yourself against the jet stream. You balanced your weight on your knees, spreading your legs enough to open your pussy further inside your swimsuit. Once the pulsing stream of water made contact with your clit, your automatic impulse was to flinch away; the stream was strong, almost too strong. However, with a little shifting and repositioning, you eventually found an angle that pulled a moan from your mouth that sounded almost pornographic.

“That’s it, baby girl,” you heard Eddie’s rough voice behind you, and you couldn’t help but sneak a peak over your shoulder at him. Eddie sat with legs spread open and one arm slung over the lip of the tub, his other hand palming the erection you knew was only growing harder over his swim trunks. This told you he was a patient man, a man who liked to be teased a little before taking what he wanted. A man who liked to play with his food before he ate it. 

You could play, too.

You pulled your eyebrows together, pouting your lips the way you’d seen him react to earlier. “Am I doing it right for you, daddy?” You moved your hips up and down against the jet, putting on a little show for him.

Eddie raised a brow, amused. “I don’t think I can answer that question for you, sweetheart.” he said, sighing heavily with pleasure as he tilted his head this way and that to take you in from every angle. “Don’t worry about me, baby, just make yourself feel good.” 

You smiled shyly, nodding in response and turning your attention back to the jets. You maneuvered your hips against them, grinding on the strong jetstream as it hit your clit at angles that you didn’t even know existed. You lost yourself in the sensation, letting your eyes fall closed and humming little sounds to yourself as your heart rate picked up, that familiar pleasure bubbling up in your lower belly  as your movements grew faster and more desperate. 

Eager to see if Eddie was enjoying himself as much as you were, you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. What you saw was breathtaking- Eddie, his wet curls clinging to his dewy skin, muscles flexing under his tattoos as he fisted his cock underwater. You couldn’t see it clearly due to the raging bubbles, but the flesh-colored underwater blur was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. You had known he would jack off to you- he’d outright told you he planned to- but seeing it was enough to turn you on so much that it became the thing that pushed you over the edge.

“Daddy, I’m cumming!” 

You moaned, mouth hanging open as you rode out your orgasm against the harsh stream of the jets, overwhelmed and overstimulated by the physical feeling and the intense eye contact that you held with Eddie the entire time as your body gyrated and spasmed. He watched you with hungry eyes, lapping up the scene in its entirety and committing every second to memory. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl, keep fucking that jet, baby.”

You whimpered, hips jerking away from the stream as it hit your clit at an angle that was a little too intense, and your limp, still-needy body floated over to Eddie. He chuckled, still stroking his cock lightly in the warm water. “Aw, I’m sorry baby, was that too much?”

You shook your head, still eager for him- he’d barely even touched you, and yet you were so desperate for this man. “No, I can take more.”

His eyes had a darkness to them that made your breath hitch. “How much can you take, sweetheart?” 

You moved to straddle your knees on either side of one of his thighs, not close enough to grind against his cock, but certainly in a perfect position to rub your pussy along his leg, teasing him. “I’ll take whatever you wanna give me, daddy.”

A low groan sounded from deep in Eddie’s chest. “You might regret saying that one, babe.”

You couldn’t resist matching his warning with a challenge. “Bring it on.” you said sweetly, and it incited a little chuckle in him. He reached back and pressed a button on the hot tub, causing all of the bubbles to stop. 

“Get out, dry off.” he said, nodding to the neatly folded towels he’d placed beside the hot tub. “You look like you could use a shower.”

You stayed put, confused. “You… but…”

He cut you off, cupping his wet hands against your face. You could feel the pads of his fingers on your cheeks, wrinkled from prolonged time under the water’s surface. “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot you don’t like following instructions unless you know you’re getting something out of it.” You scoffed at his condescending tone, but all he did was smile. “What I meant to say was- get out. Dry off. I’m going to fuck you in my shower. Mmkay?”

Your eyes widened, excited by his words and elated by a strange submissive, post-orgasmic euphoria. “Okay.” you replied, but when you saw his testy look in response you quickly amended, “Okay daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The two of you dried off before heading back upstairs. Eddie let you down the hall to his bedroom, which you were sure was filled with so many interesting mementos on the walls that you were sure it would take you hours to study all of it. The first thing to catch your eye was the golden record, framed and mounted beside his dresser. When Eddie saw you looking at it, he supplied an answer without waiting for you to ask. 

“Ever heard of a band called Corroded Coffin?”

You searched your brain but came up empty. “No, I don’t think I have.”

Eddie chuckled to himself, like you’d just participated in a joke you weren’t in on. “Most people haven’t. But I bet you’ve heard the song Upside Down on the radio, yeah?” He hummed a couple bars of the chorus, which you recognized instantly. 

“Oh yeah! I love that song!”

Eddie grinned. “‘Preciate it, babe.”

Shocked, you glanced up at the record and back to him. “Wait, you wrote that song?”

He shrugged as if to brush it off, but you could tell he was proud. “It was a group effort, my band and I wrote and recorded it together. After that, though, when the offers for record deals and tours and shit started pouring in, it became clear to most of the band members that this wasn’t what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives- band broke up on good terms, we just had some differences when it came to future plans.” He reached up and stroked the frame affectionately with his thumb. “But one-hit-wonder money was still enough to get my name out there, make some smart investments. I’m a music producer now.”

So that’s how he made all this money. The big empty house made sense now. “That’s pretty cool, actually.” you said, smiling at Eddie. You relished the sensation of his hands as they slid around your waist. 

“You wanna see something even cooler?” 

Before you could answer, Eddie was scooping you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder. You squealed, laughing as his palm hit your ass cheek with a loud smack! He carried you into his bathroom, placing you on his vanity counter before kissing the laughing smile right off your face. You felt his hands as they worked your bathing suit off you, freeing your breasts from the confines of the damp fabric. Eddie wasted no time, pulling one of your tits into his hand and encircling your nipple with his mouth, sucking sensually. You moaned, hands fisting into his hair. He only left your skin to turn around and turn on the shower, giving the water a chance to heat up. 

Once the bathroom had sufficiently filled with steam, Eddie picked you up from the counter, pulling your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You kissed him greedily, wetly, and hungrily as he walked the two of you into his spacious tiled shower, which was larger than your dorm room closet back at school. 

You relaxed your legs around him in a silent ask for Eddie to put you down, which he obliged. The moment your feet hit the wet tiled floor, you began to sink to your knees until…

You snorted. 

“Why do you still have your swim trunks on?” 

Eddie had taken the time to take off your bathing suit, but you hadn’t even realized that even after carrying you into the shower, he hadn’t even taken a second to undress himself. 

He looked down, noticing this for the first time, same as you. “I, uh… I don’t know. I was-” he flashed you a smirk that was equal parts embarrassed and sexy. “-preoccupied, I guess.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you knelt before him, now eye-level with the drawstring of his swim trunks. “Well let me fix that, then.” you said softly, working your delicate fingers into the waistband and pulling his trunks down until they hit the floor. 

God. He was a sight to behold. And you were right, he did have thigh tattoos. They were large, twisting images of hellish creatures, undoubtedly older but still in good shape since- judging by the paleness of the skin they decorated- they probably never saw the light of day. 

You reached up, lightly tracing them as you turned your gaze to his cock. It was at full mast, eager and waiting for your mouth to encircle it and, hopefully, make Eddie moan your name. 

Which he did. 

The way your lips covered the head of his cock, the way your tongue generously licked the shaft under, over, around, the way your hands were warm and welcoming as they lightly played with his balls- all of it made him moan, gasp, groan your name. He called you baby, called you princess, moaned and pulled your hair as he fucked your mouth, and you just about burst into flames when he shoved his cock so far down your throat that you swallowed on it accidentally, pulling a growled “Goddamnit, sweetheart, fuck-” from his lips. 

When he pulled you off his dick by your hair, his eyes were humorless and hungry. He crouched down, leveling your eyes under the hot water from the showerhead. 

“Are you on birth control, sweet girl?” he asked. 

You nodded, “I have an IUD.”

He kissed your forehead firmly, one hand still fisted in your hair. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now I can grab a condom, they’re right over there in the cabinet under my sink.” he continued, nodding vaguely in the sink’s direction. “But baby, I have been fantasizing about the way your pussy’s gonna feel for a long ass time and I hate to ask you this, and you’re allowed to say no, but-”

“Fuck me raw Eddie.” You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. “I fantasize about it too. I think about it every day, I touch myself to you before going to sleep and wake up wishing your cock was the thing waking me up. When I’m lying by the pool reading those stupid smutty novels and some lord is fucking a lady in waiting up against a wall, I can’t focus on it! I can’t because I want it to be you and I want to feel your cock inside me, and I want it to be your cum that drips down my thighs and your lips on my-”

He cut you off there, splaying his free hand on your neck and kissing you until you were laid horizontally on the hot, wet floor. He climbed on top of you, and in a moment your mouth fell open at the sensation of his hard cock splitting you open from the inside. He didn’t spend a moment waiting for you to adjust to his size or murmuring praises into your ear- he knew you wanted all of him, and you knew he wanted all of you, and that was all you needed. You moaned, you practically screamed, and above all you clutched him for dear life.

“Dirty girl,” Eddie growled into your ear, thrusting into you deep and hard. “Dirty books, dirty mind-” 

He leaned back so that his face was directly above yours and grabbed your cheeks, squeezing to force your mouth open. Your lips parted, and Eddie spat harshly into your mouth before shoving your mouth closed around it. His eyes were feral, wild with lust and dominance. “Swallow.” he commanded, you obeyed in an instant. He felt your throat moving against his hand and smiled deviously. “Dirty mouth, too.”

He picked up his pace, spearing into you at a pace so relentless that you couldn’t even keep track of the noises coming out of your mouth- an incoherent stream of sounds and swear that would have made a sailor blush. He matched your dirty noises with his own, all the while dicking you down into his shower floor as your brain went haywire at the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin that echoed through the bathroom. 

“God, this pussy is so fucking tight,” Eddie groaned, “good girl, cumming so hard for daddy back there. You gonna cum on my cock this time?”

You moaned, “Need something on my clit, daddy.” 

Eddie pecked your lips with his own, and the way it made your heart skip a beat was like a reward. “Good girl, always tell me what you need, okay?”

You nodded, smiling giddily from the sudden subby euphoria. “Okay, daddy.” You made a mental note that kissing Eddie Munson while his cock was inside you gave you your new favorite kind of high.

Eddie reached down and began drawing small, soft circles with his fingertip on your clit. The richly gentle sensation was decadent, pulling deeper, louder moans from you as Eddie continued to fuck you. “Oh I feel you getting tighter, baby girl, that feel good?”

“Yes!” you practically yelled it. 

“Yes what?” He taunted.

“Yes daddy!” you cried, arching your back against the tile. He was fucking you ruthlessly, ravaging you mentally, and the way his dirty words melted into you made your brain go so hazy that you weren’t sure if your vision was clouding or if it was just the steam in the air. 

Your release was growing closer, that heat in your core coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst with pleasure. “I’m gonna cum soon, daddy.” you whined. 

Eddie’s dick hit you in that perfect spot inside over and over, and you leaned your face against his hand as he cupped your cheek affectionately. “Yeah? You gonna make a mess all over daddy’s dick?” You pouted, nodding ‘yes’ in response. Eddie smiled at the way you could be so cute and so filthy at the same time- he fucking loved it. “That’s probably gonna make me cum, sweetheart, you want that? That pussy’s gonna grip my cock so tight that it fills you with cum, huh?”

You were whimpering and pouting and letting the sluttiest little sobs fall from you now. “Yes, daddy, fill me with cum, please!”

“You want me to fill you with cum? Fuck all that cum inside you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes what, sweetheart, gotta tell me whose dick you’re cumming on-”

“Daddy!” you cried, “Daddy’s dick, I’m cumming on daddy’s dick!”

“Fuuuck, yes, cum on daddy’s dick you little slut-”

Eddie’s filthy words tumbled from his lips as your pussy pulsed around him, fluttering walls squeezing him tight from the aching pleasure that shot through you. His cum filled you, and the size of his load reflected just how long it had been since he’d cum into anything that wasn’t his own hand. When he finally pulled out, a stream of both your releases oozed out of your hole and onto the floor. Eddie stared at it, fascinated, and he silently used his finger to catch the milky liquid and push it back into your hole. You whimpered, overly sensitive and puffy, your pussy lips inflamed and screaming, but Eddie was gentle as he sheathed his finger completely inside you, ensuring that his seed stayed exactly where he’d put it in the first place.

He pulled you up to a sitting position, smiling gently. “Hi.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your temple. 

“Hi.” you giggled, a giant smile stretching out across your face, blissed-out and more than satisfied. 

Eddie stroked your wet hair out of your face, gazing down at you adoringly. “I’m sorry if that was a little… much,” he winced. “I may have gotten carried away, usually I would talk to you to see if that kind of stuff would be okay, but I was just so fired up-”

“Eddie,” you interrupted softly. “I loved it.”

He grinned, grateful and relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Eddie pulled you against him, your body fitting itself nicely against his naked chest as water poured over the two of you from above while you sat holding each other on the floor of his shower. He sighed, completely and utterly content. “Yeah.”

***

The rest of the summer days in your parents’ neighborhood went like this: 

Wake up imagining what you and Eddie would do today. Touch yourself when necessary.

Do whatever chores needed doing around the house, sometimes making batches of lemonade for Eddie when you knew he would be working on his lawn that day. 

Lounge by your pool and read a book- this part hadn’t changed. 

Spend the rest of the afternoon at Eddie’s. These afternoons usually consisted of activities like discussing the whatever book you were reading, drinking whatever strange new beer Dustin had come up with, and fucking each other’s brains out. 

The next month, Eddie celebrated his birthday. He didn’t throw a rager (true to his word) but he did have a little get-together. To your surprise, he invited you. 

You got to meet his friends, their kids, their dogs- and see the way Eddie smiled for hours without reprieve when they were around. This whole summer, you’d been figuring this man out bit by bit, but it wasn’t until that night that you truly felt like you knew him. 

You baked him a cake, as promised. Three layers of funfetti sponge, vanilla frosting and decorated with oreo crumbs and rainbow letters that spelled out “Happy birthday, Eddie, forever young”.

He wasn’t this way with the rest of the neighbors. To them, he would always be Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, but with these people? With his friends? He was Eddie Munson. Now, you were included in that group of people who were allowed to know him, and how wonderful he really was. 

You felt so incredibly lucky that you were a part of that.

[aishabellasbigblogofeverything]

OMG YOU’RE SO RIGHT! I LOVE BEING A WOMAN!

it really is okay to be a girl and to want to be a girl. society likes to tell us that being a woman is undesirable. that women can't be funny, smart, nuanced, or have a personality. that women can't have interests. women can't be this and women can't be that- none of that's true in the slightest- talk to any number of women and you'll see that's just not the case. women are as varied and nuanced as people can get.

it's okay to want to do the "shallow" things that people hate women for. it's also it's okay to want to be a woman who doesn't shave or care about their appearance. it's okay to be a butch woman. it's also okay to want to be hyper feminine and wear very well crafted makeup and well planned out outfits. it's okay to be a smart woman, it's okay to be a funny girl. it's okay to be the weird girl. it's okay to WANT to be a woman and ENJOY womanhood, no matter how you express it, no matter what body you're in or how your womanhood presents itself.

trans women, genderqueer women, intersex women, butch women, gnc women, cis women- it's okay to enjoy being a woman. it's okay to find joy in womanhood. it's okay to be a woman in your own way, too, stereotype or not- even if other people say you don't act like a woman or aren't one- it's okay to love being a woman. it's okay to love womanhood.

[pretty-circa006]

Pie

Negan x F! Reader

summary Negan fucks you when you try to bake a pie tags slight breeding kink, unprotected p in v, vaginal fingering, pet names, pussy eating, not proofread

wc 1.4k

note just finished a little wip i had sitting around. got the idea when i was listening to stargirl interlude, so maybe you wanna listen to that while reading

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

Negan was a great cook. It wasn't a well known fact considering he was a rather busy man with leading the Saviors and all. Occasionally, he'd make dinner for his wives and those were always her favorite days. And since last night was one of those nights, she wanted to do something to return the favor. 

So here she was in the kitchen, flour dusted her classy black dress and her fingers were sticky with pie filling as she worked on rolling out the dough for the pie's crust. This pie was going to be her way of thanking Negan for being such a good husband—at least to her. 

"What's all this?" she heard him ask from the entryway. 

"I'm baking you a 'thank you' pie," she replied as she lined the pie pan with the crust. 

"Thank you pie? The hell’s a 'thank you' pie?" 

"I dunno, just my way of showing you that I lo- appreciate you." She poured some of the apple filling into the crust, hoping he didn't catch her almost mistake.

"Well aren't you a sweetheart," he said wrapping his arms around her. His salt and pepper beard tickled her neck as he pressed kisses to it, ignoring her lighthearted pleas for him to stop distracting her. As she cut the leftover dough into strips, Negan reached over and scooped some pie filling from the bowl before sucking it off his finger. 

"Mmm! This is fuckin' delicious, baby," he rasped into her ear. Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. "Glad you like it." The kisses he was leaving on her neck grew more sensual –open mouthed with nips here and there– as she did her best to lay the lattice pattern with the dough atop the pie. His hands drifted from her hips down to her upper thighs where his hands slid beneath her dress, slowly lifting it until it was bunched up at her hips. She did her best to pretend like she wasn't distracted and continue to lay the pattern on top of the pie, but really, his touches were arousing her. 

"What're you doin'?" she asked him once his fingers looped around the waistband of her panties. He was too busy kissing down her shoulder to answer, but she had the feeling he wouldn't have answered anyway. In one fell swoop he yanked her panties down before his hand wedged its way between her legs. She let out a whimper, but otherwise continued with the pie. He began rubbing tight circles over her clit as he licked and sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her breathing grew shallow as her resolve began to fade. Restrained whimpers escaped her lips, but that wasn't good enough for him. 

"I wanna hear you, doll," he ordered. Her answer came out in the form of a breathy moan once he slipped a thick finger into her soaking pussy. Her hands gripped the counter as his finger glided in and out the spongy walls of her cunt. He inserted another and the gentle stretch felt so good. His thumb rubbed quick circles on her clit as he fingered her. Her thighs squeezed his hand as her hips ground onto his hand. With his foot, he nudged her legs further apart before increasing his pace. 

“Negan, please, I’m close,” she wantonly whined between pants. He pulled away from her neck with an audible pop, leaving what she was sure would be a sizable mark. He removes his fingers from her cunt which earned a displeased pout from her. She was about to object, but was cut off when he turned her to face him. Beneath his gaze, her entire body felt like it was on fire, especially between her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her lips for a kiss. His hands slid up her body, beneath her dress, feeling her body wherever his hands could reach. His tongue slid between her smooth lips and she tangled her fingers in his hair as sigs and moans crossed between their lips, merging into one sound in their kiss. He lifted her before setting her onto a free space on the countertop. In need of breath, he pulled away from the kiss. Instead of going back to her lips, he kissed down her jaw, to her neck, then her collarbones before unzipping the back of her dress and sliding the straps down her shoulders. He lowered himself to his knees, looking at her with a smirk on his face as he did so, and spread her thighs open. Her cunt was practically leaking, desperate to be filled by the man beneath her, and my god he thought it looked delicious. He kissed his way up her leg, starting from her ankle, until he got to her inner thighs, right in front of where she wanted him most. He nipped and sucked at the soft flesh until he had her whimpering. 

“Please, Negan, I need you!” She begged, desperate for some attention on her neglected cunt. Finally, his soft lips surround her clit, sucking it gently for a moment before he pulls away. His warm, wet tongue licked a stripe between her folds, tasting her arousal directly from the source. Her fingers weave through his greying hair, pulling him deeper into her pussy. She finally got what she wanted when his tongue entered her hole. She leaned back, supporting her weight on her arms from behind. She threw her head back in a pleasured haze as his tongue worked magic on her pussy. The warm muscle worked its way around her velvety walls and pressed against her g-spot as his lips were practically making out with her lower ones. Her cunt squeezed his tongue and nails scratched at the countertop as she reached her peak with a scream of his name. His beard was glistening with her juices when he pulled away, a wide dimpled smile plastered on his face.

“Doll, you’re so delicious I almost forgot about that goddamn pie.” She giggled, smiling at him as she slid off the countertop. She was about to wash her hands and resume fixing the pie, but Negan stopped her in her tracks. 

“Oh I’m not done with you,” he growled. 

“But what about the pie?” She asked feigning innocence, batting her eyelashes.  She didn’t really care about the pie and it was obvious by the way she was undoing his belt buckle. 

“Forget that goddamn pie and bend over, babydoll.” He eyed her bare, plump ass as he freed his hardened cock from his pants. He slid it up and down her slick folds before lining it up with her needy cunt. He slid in almost effortlessly, his large dick stretching her hole, but filling her up perfectly. 

“This pussy was made for me,” he moans. His large hands hold her hips as he thrusts roughly into her, desperately wanting to reach his own orgasm. The sound and smell of sex filled the kitchen as he plowed into her from behind. Her head hung low as she cried his name over and over, nothing else on her mind but the man filling her. Tears from overstimulation flowed down her face as pleasure overtook her. Negan’s cock twitched inside of her, his own orgasm rapidly approaching.

“God you feel so good, baby. Can’t wait to fill this pussy.” The next thing that fell from her mouth was just garbled gibberish and lewd moans, but he knew that meant she’s close. He leans down over her body and intertwines his hands with the backs of hers. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear and pressed gentle kisses to the side of her head as he shot his load into her abused cunt at the same time she reaches her second orgasm. 

“You did so good for me, angel. Such a good girl,” he cooed as he slowly softened inside of her. 

After he pulled out of her,  he helped her get redressed, but by then she was too spent to even care about the pie. 

thank you for reading! <3

[thesharktanksdriver]

Determination!: The all blue night (platonic)

Masterlist for the series.

I put in Zeff’s manga reasoning for loosing a leg this one cause it makes more sense and is much more impactful in my opinion. Like I get they didn’t want to put in he ate his own leg to survive because it’s super dark but I digress. Sorry for the slow rate I’m writing stuff school has been taking a big toll on me inspiration wise and kinda mentally too lol

tag list : @peachsuka28 @emptynessinmyworld @badluckinfrench @j-s-l-m @tigerfang-rage @madokamagicaa @rymtea @angstylittleb1tch @badluckinfrench @emmbny @kenkenmaaa @yunho-leeknow @chibiduck @spqce-bun @coca-cola-fiend @Koifishpoond @eyes-ofhell @imaginarydreams @ghostdoodlen

At some point in a long while hunger becomes or less like second nature

You knew the feeling intimately

It starts as a burning pit that consumes your entire stomach

Eating through stomach lining as acid boils over and spills into the rest of you

It travels and burns

Eating you away as hands scrape against the midriff to try and alleviate the ache

The pain

The want

The need

The agony

But eventually the pain becomes background noise

As does all pain after so long

You’d died so many times in so many different ways and yet starvation is one thing that is familiar to you

And like how death is your friend whom you see oh so often

So is hunger

Nights spent alone clutching a completely empty stomach

The pain becoming almost a comforting sensation in its familiarity

At some point you’d just accepted that your stay hungry

That even when dying over and over again and occasionally treating yourself to a meal you’d stay hungry

Because even when you ate it was never enough

Stomach still aching and swirling in its emptiness and collapsing in on itself

At some point a long time ago you used to go to bed with a full stomach and now each night your rocked to sleep by the pain of an empty one

Things used to be different

And you can’t remember what that was like anymore

So you just accepted as it was

And so you accepted you’d be forever hungry

Ending up a cruise ship wasn’t your intention but just as most things that happen to you it quickly becomes a new experience

And as always you go with the flow of things

Ending up on the cruise wasn’t planned

Nor was ending up somehow being found by a young chef boy who helped cover for you

But as always fate seemed to have different plans

And you just rolled with it

The boy’s name was Sanji, he was 10 and helped you hide in the storage area of the cruise

At night he’d sneak you out

With hands much like your own, scarred yet retaining a soft and caring quality he’d guide you through the halls

Past the creaky floorboards he knew by heart after 2 years of apparently living on this ship

Through the elegant dining rooms that housed grand chandeliers and checkerboard floors

Beneath the white table cloths of spotless tables he and you sit

Quietly looking at recipe books together or sharing stories between the two of you

Sanji was apparently from the north blue originally, but found himself on the cruise that now housed him called the orbit

The chefs found him one night

Scared and alone pillaging the kitchen

They took pity on him, partially out of genuine concern and intrigue at seeing the spark of talent in him

And since then he’s been cooking and calling this place “home”

Though that was a vague term

Much like yourself Sanji had ambitions beyond this small boat cruising the sea

He wanted to find something

Wanted to be something beyond an errand boy

Wanted to cook for anyone who’d have his food

To ensure they didn’t go to bed hungry

The way he describes it to you under a table in candlelight resounds something in you

Especially since he then takes your hands, promising he’d ensure you’d be full

That you’ll have the best food he can provide

All for you

Someone who’s still a stranger to him

A stowaway on a cruise meant for upper crust but not quite celestial dragons (yet they both act the same either way)

And he still promises he’d do everything in his power to make you content

He cooks for you as if you were someone important and not a stowaway

You nod along not having the will to tell him he’d never be able to do that

Not when you can’t remember what being full felt like anyways

And so you lie and say your full after you finish a plate even if your still staving

His blinding smile is able to make you feel the pain momentarily go away anyways

Sanji tells you one night of a place called “the all blue”

Supposedly it was the place that connected the north, south, east, and west together

Creating a sea where creatures from all four seas could coexist together

It was a chef and fisherman’s dream

But it was just that

A dream

Unattainable and imaginary

Or…at least that’s what everybody else thought

But not Sanji

And certainly not you

He speaks so hopeful about his dream

Of finding the all blue

Of proving everyone wrong

Of making his dream come true

He has the spark to do it

You can tell by his eyes alone

Sapphire hued just like the waves of the ocean he seeks

Similarly he sees a spark in your eyes as well

Almost seeming to Glow in hazy candlelight

And as you say you believe in him

In his dream

Believed in him when no one else did

Well, who’s to say he couldn’t become more motivated

Especially when your eyes shine like stars above the sea

And when in the candlelight highlighted by luminous stars hidden in irises he asks you about your dream

And in a haze of memory and emotion you tell him a story

One you cannot remember now but he holds dear in his heart

The story of wanting

The story loss

The story of loneliness

The story of a family torn apart

And the story of a devil fruit

By the end of it all you and Sanji sit in a darkened kitchen

Two stowaways on the same ship (though one is welcomed and the other is a mystery)

Both connected through the spark of a dream to sail the seas

One’s purpose clear while the other is hazed

But either which way the two talk in an empty kitchen and eat

Unknowingly both know what it feels like to starve

And both know loss

The two of you make a pinky promise, when he finds the all blue you’ll be the first to have one of his meals and you promise you’ll always be his friend

The raid of the orbit comes out of nowhere and somehow predictable at the same time

You’d come to know that your luck was something that ran out quite fast

And unfortunately you were no stranger to things such as this

But typically when a ship went down you were on the deck

Now instead you were in the storage

Stood atop boxes that were quickly being eaten up by cold unforgiving water

Yelling and screams echoes down quickly flooding halls

Waves crashing so Harshly against the ship that it begins to crack the wood, doesn’t help that the invading ship is bumping into it either

Confusion spreading through you like wildfire as the water continues to raise higher and higher

If you were anyone else you’d be scared of dying to such a fate

But your not

Your more worried about Sanji as you trudge through the wading waves

Feet becoming heavier and heavier with each step you take

Feeling as if concrete was slowly forming shoes over your boots or chains manifesting from the cold water that sucks warmth from you

By now it’s just above your waist and the effects of it really begin to hit you

Soon enough you’d be immobile

Unable to move and frozen like a Statue for the waves that’ll sink you with it

If you didn’t die from the cold first but you doubted that

With how the steadily rising of it your definitely drowning before hypothermia or shock

Though at this point even the pain of choking on salt water, it quickly filling your lungs for the burn of air loss to help fill the liquid

But then you hear sloshing through the blaring of your ears

And your name

It echoes and for a moment you need a moment to realize what was said or who even called out

But then it hits you

Sanji

He came back for you

Came back knowing you’d be in danger

Came back knowing you were in an area with water

Came back knowing you’d be eaten up by the waves if he didn’t

Came back because he knew knew you ate a devil fruit

Shaking cold hands grab your own and he drags you with him

But at the point in which the water gets to the point of immobilizing you he decides to pick you up instead

Placing you on his back as he drags both himself and you through flooding halls

Water splashes

Yelling continues

Sanji’s rapidly thumbing heart echoes through your ribcage as you helplessly lay your head on his shoulder

He should’ve left you there to save himself

You say so to his face

But despite that he yells at you for being an idiot

About how in the hell you expected him to leave you there to die

Not when he promised he’d cook you the first meal he’d make when he found the all blue

Not when you were the only one who enjoyed his cooking

Through the chaos you and him stumble out into the deck

The boat rocking violently as rain and sea water pelts down on you like hail

Your still weak because of this, the water soaking you to the bone

But thoroughly out of being submerged you slink off of Sanji’s back

But he holds your hand

It shakes in your grip

He’s scared and you can’t blame him

Swords clash all around the two of you, and somehow both of you weave through the carnage

For reasons you don’t like to think about he seemed used to fighting just as you were

But unlike you who content in laying down and dying he fights

Sanji will die clawing to survive

It’s why he picks up a sword

Why he points it at a pirate despite the fact he won’t win

Why he pushes you behind him even if your stronger and older than him

Because Sanji cares

And that’s something very rare now in the world

Even when the captain of the crew comes up to the two of you Sanji doesn’t back down

He proudly declares his dream

To find the all blue

And within that captains eyes you see it

That same spark, that same dream, that same determination

Though it’s dying and faded it for a moment lights up once more

You see it before being engulfed by water and grasp for it

You, Sanji and the pirate known as Zeff end up on a barren rock in the middle of the ocean

No grass nor trees

Just a jutting stone too far up from the water to safely jump in from or fish

Stuck after the captain with dimming eyes saved both you and Sanji after a colossal wave swept the two of you off ship

In the water despite your attempts in making Sanji let you go he didn’t

His grip had held stead-strong as he kept trying to pull you up with him

Unable to even as air escaped his lungs

But Zeff intervened

And the three of you were alive for now

But you could hardly call this living

You sit with Sanji looking out towards the sea, hoping for a ship to cross by

The food given by Zeff won’t last long to feed either of you past a few days, you know that

Even if Sanji does his best to ration it between the two of you

You know one of you won’t survive

And you know you won’t let it be him

Starvation is not a new go around for you

It’s probably your most common death besides dehydration, drowning or hypothermia

But it’s not a fun way to go even if the pain of a empty stomach became commonplace for you

You can’t let Sanji die that way

Not before finding the all blue

So when he’s not looking you hid the food he gives you

Hiding each piece and scrap of moldy bread

Keeping it from his sapphire eyes that become more and more sunken like your own

Keeping the fact how much pain your in from him

You distract from it all by telling him more stories

Of singing songs even if your throat feels like sand paper is scraping against it with each word

Each syllable

Each hum

But you don’t care

Not when you see his eyes reignite with hope

Not when his sullen face pulls up into a smile when you tell him of when you learned piano from a crew who befriended a whale

Not when they sparkle with curiosity when hearing of a land atop the clouds with white winged people

Not when you see the slightest bit of ease when you tell him of the constellations

Pointing to the stars and explaining their meaning

Telling him how no one was ever truly alone when the stars hung and watched

That’s what’s you had told yourself after so many weeks alone drifting

That the stars were watching

That you weren’t alone as you clutched Roger’s coat closer

Everyone was made of stardust and in the end that’s where they returned when they died

You weren’t alone, not with the stars watching over you

Not when Roger was watching over you

As you lay awake while Sanji clings to you for warmth you pull the coat closer around the two of you

One night as Sanji slept you snuck to the other side of the island

Zeff doesn’t face you, but the smell of iron lingers in a scent as familiar as the sea to you

Blood

It stains the ground and air in its presence

It’s familiar to you though, even if that’s a sad fact to admit

Sitting down next to the old captain you look to the night sky

Your oldest friend of them all

Bleak and empty with the stars being the only boots of light penetrating the deep darkness

Dead stars continuing to shine even after being extinguished, their light still traveling eons away to hit your eyes in their gentle glow amidst the sorrow and joy of life

His hand trumps your shoulder as you sit next to him, he can probably feel the bone beneath now paper thing flesh

Fat being eaten away by your body to try and survive

Leaving you a shell of yourself even moreso than him or Sanji

He can tell, and despite not looking in his diminishing eyes you can sense the horror in them

His shaking hand is enough to tell you

But despite it all you smile at him, now looking at the weathered man

Your eyes speak volumes that he can’t decipher in such little amount of time

But even with that he sees the understanding and acceptance of your own fate

And it crushes him

Grinds him down to his very spirit

And Zeff is left speechless as you tend to his tourniquet and stump of a leg

Still bloody and raw

You don’t flinch at the sight at all

If anything you gaze at blood and gore as if it were normal

Examining it as if it were a paper cut before assuring him it’s luckily not infected and that he cut off his blood circulation correctly

How you knew this knowledge was beyond him

And yet you knew it all the same

Humming a soft tune to yourself that he hears softly in the daytime across the little barren rock of an island

It’s raspy and quiet

And at the same time hauntingly loud in his ears

It seems to linger there even as you go back to Sanji

As does the fact you know what your fate is

And that there’s nothing him nor the boy could do for you, your body on the cusp of death that nothing could change that

But all the same you smile and sing in the face of it all

As if awaiting death like an old friend at a bar

Drunk on the remaining days of your life as you sung songs awaiting his arrival

You’ve always known when your time was near, you always seemed to sense it before it had come

Maybe death was a sentient entity and you’d just been able to sense it better as time went on

Or maybe you were just so used to your body shutting down that you’d noticed the signs before it happened

But either which was you knew your time was soon

There was no crying about it

Nor shivers of fear

If anything it felt more like a release and a hopeful occasion

Because you’d be released from the hunger if only to feel your stomach become empty again (but for the moment you wake in that void where you clutch a golden star the pain is gone)

If only to be released from this barren prison and find a way to save Sanji and Zeff

Because if you died you could get them help

That was seemingly the only purpose of your powers anyways

Die

Comeback

Rinse and repeat

You were fine with it though

As long as it meant you were able to help others (even at your own expense)

Every moment drags on

Every twitch of your finger takes so much out of you

Your body not having enough to power it

Despite it though you sit beside Sanji one last time

You sing for him and tell him stories

Tell him of the grand line and its wonders

The new world and its mystery

Trailing off occasionally for a break as everything becomes harder to do

The words seeming to slur and slosh around in your mouth

He can tell something is wrong

By the tears gathering in ocean blue eyes he knows

So he savours what you say

What you tell

What you sing

The words being engraved in his mind as paper thin skeletal hands clutch his own

That night he falls asleep much later than he usually did

He sits staring up to the stars you’d told him of

His grip deathly tight on your hand

Thumb lightly grazing your pulse as if to ensure himself your still there

Still breathing

Still alive

Using your pulse to try and keep himself awake even if it’s wasting precious energy

When he eventually drifts off with tears gathered in his eyes (knowing you’d be deathly still in the morning, cold and stiff and forever asleep) you tell him to find it

The all blue

He dreams of that place when you slip from his grasp

He dreams of the fishes mingling together when you take out the scraps hidden away and placing them in his pile

He dreams of preparing when you hobble over to Zeff

He dreams of cooking when the old man begs you to eat, to be selfish and you reply that you are being selfish. That you want him and Sanji to live for your sake and that was as selfish as it came

He dreams of serving you a dish when the old man can do nothing but hold you close and not want to let go and yet eventually you slip away

He dreams of your reaction as you say to Zeff your gonna go get some rest and promise to get them help with a gentle smile

He dreams of sitting beside you with his feet in the water wadding slowly, the sight of a sunset fading quickly into night

Briefly he jostles momentarily awake when you lay back next to him, smiling and telling him to get some rest

Halfway asleep he nods, partially thinking it was his dream because he’s had no one care for him like this except you (and mom and maybe Reiju)

So of course for the moment in which he’s only partially aware he sees it as a happy dream

You hold him close and he goes back to dreaming

He dreams of you sitting by his mom in that hospital bed, a dish for the two of you in her lap while you fade into the nothingness that is night

When he wakes that morning he wakes up alone and cold

He lays there for several minutes sobbing to himself as he notices the food he rationed out for you a few feet away untouched and moldy

Sanji sobs and his all blue eyes spill with tears

Across the island the old man does the same

Your body is not on the island and unknowingly to them faded to stardust

But both later come to the conclusion that in your last moments you’d decided to take the plunge into the water

To not leave them with a rotting corpse on that barren rock (since despite both of their hunger neither would eat your corpse. Zeff could eat his own leg in desperation but that was his leg, not the dead body of a child)

A reminder of both their failures

One in protecting the two young children he sacrificed his leg for

And the other in promising you’d be the first to taste his dream

Unbeknownst to them across the sea a young child reports to a ship of being a survivor of the orbit

Saying that they saw two others shipwrecked on a rocky island jutting out from the ocean

As a ship is sent off to investigate an odd group of crows end up dropping food on the barren island to Sanji and Zeff’s bitter relief

Two loafs of bread and a canteen of water being able to get them a few more days before rescue

The urge to go see them is there within your heart, but for their sake you decide not to

You’d caused them too much pain in the first place

You don’t want to rub salt in the wound

Plus you’d prefer oregano instead to season yourself

Sanji is a troubled child, he’s self aware to know that about himself

It’s perhaps why everyone hated him

But for some reason you didn’t and surprisingly enough so did Zeff

The two of you handed out kindness to him as if he deserved it

As if he weren’t a failure on so many levels both genetically and emotionally

In a sense he could get why you did it, a kid only maybe a year or two older than him

Someone he viewed as his closest friends despite the relativity of time spent together and as a sibling he wishes he had (the now healed bruises and scars you saw but never pushed to ask about as you helped put salves over the old wounds are evident of that)

Someone who sacrificed themselves for him, for some fucking reason saving your food for him even as you withered away before his eyes

If he had been more watchful he would’ve noticed it, but being half there on that island starved and scared left him more like a shell

Made him ignorant until it was too late

He could accept why you care, but he can’t accept why Zeff cares

Can’t accept why this man, a hardened pirate would give a shit about him

Offer him kindness

Take him in

Mentor him

And eat his own leg to ensure Sanji and you wouldn’t go hungry (partially worked in the end)

Sanjis sometimes gets kindness from women, moms warm hugs are evident in his mind as is the tears from a sister who tells him to go and be free

Sanji’s sometimes kindness from those his age, your the shining example but he can also think of a few guests in the orbit who played games with him in its halls

But most of all Sanji has never experienced kindness from a man

So seeing Zeff go out of his way for him

Seeing how Zeff on the rescue ship doesn’t let anyone hound him for invasive answers and ensures he gets food first

The good food the ship goers give in pity that he scrounges up with a snotty noose and runny eyes, Zeff always lets him eat first before having his own fix

How Zeff rubs his back as the both mourn

It means a lot more than words can say

As does the fact that Zeff on a silent night says he’s going to open a restaurant on the sea

And that he needs staff

A silent invitation that is solidified as Sanji quietly takes his hand with tears in his eyes

If the old man is crying Sanji doesn’t comment

Not even if raindrops fall down from a clear night sky and pelt his dirtied kitchen apron

Not when he’s held close in loving arms

Not when they sit in the deck both brokenly humming the song you’d sing like a broken record

Out of tune and off key

It plays when the two of them cook in the kitchen of the baratie

Sanji always looks to the stars when he takes a smoke break, Zerg occasionally accompanying him on the balcony in a somber silence

And even though Sanji hates wasting food he can’t help but make an extra plate sometimes

Can’t help but subconsciously make more than needed to feed someone not there

Zeff doesn’t comment on it and tells the others to lay off if they ask Sanji about it

He can’t judge when he sometimes does the same

Can’t when he sometimes looks out to sea and hears your humming in the waves

The small song sung by a raspy throat that helped ease hours of the days spent on that barren rock

Days in which he worries of his wound being infected

Days in which he worried for the boy who shared his dream and the child who looked as if they accepted death

And it stays with him

Because Zeff can so clearly see your sunken face when he spots a starved begger on the street

Can so clearly see how you curled up at night trying to keep Sanji warm as skeletal hands clung to you

Can clearly see your eyes when he stares out at night, the full shine of stars that looked so bleak

Can so clearly see you valued the two of them more than yourself no matter how either of them tried to save you

And yet they couldn’t do it

You weren’t here anymore, no body to bury or honour either

Nothing but a barren rock and cold salty water to serve as your grave

The chefs at baratie try to question when one night a year they see Zeff and Sanji leave a full plate of food on the deck

But none of them ever get an answer except it was for someone hungry they couldn’t feed

Patty always tries to chase away the crows that peck at the food but each year they return to eat that plate of food until nothing is left

And oddly enough the murder always seems to leave behind a loaf of bread in the plates place

Years later a cannonball crashes through the baratie

Cracking and breaking timber in of what Sanji calls a home

Besides that and a marine asshole with his beautiful date it’s a mostly normal day

Not the worse he’s experienced

Nor the best

Average would be the best way to put it, the baratie often times seeming more like a fight club rather than a proper cooking establishment

If the smirk wasn’t enough I n the douches face then it was the fact he wasted perfectly good food

The thought sickens him

A sunken starved face stares back at him from the wasted soup

Boney and dead

It leaves him sick to his stomach especially when a starved pirate stumbles through the door

And everything seems to come back to him all at one once

Especially the man’s eyes, they look too much like your own on those last few days on the hellish rock

Soulless and empty

When he places a plate in front of the starved man he doesn’t expect anyone from the dinning room to follow in his example

Not with their cheering of the man being beaten down by patty

But stepping through the side door someone follows

He extinguishes his cigarette and turns around just as he hears the clink of another plate being lowered to the wooden deck

And it’s there that Sanji freezes

Your eyes stare back at him in just as much shock

A cigarette long forgotten falls to the deck and is extinguished when he steps on it

His arms wrap around your own as tears drop freely from his eyes

You hold him the same as you did the last

One hand laced in golden hair while the other pats his back

His knees buckle from the weight of it all

This has to be a dream

He only sees you in dreams or in the faces of the truly hungry

Your sunken starry eyes staring out from others

But your here

And your healthy and safe and alive

And despite the fact he’s confused as all hell

He can’t help but thank whatever god there is out there that your here again

Not just a reflection of a memory

Your here

When you pull away he can’t help but want to pull you back just to ensure you don’t go

To not make the same mistake that Zeff did in letting you go that he still regrets every single day of his life

But as you pull away you don’t do so entirely, you hold both his hands as he kneels to match your level

A confused starved pirate watches confused alongside a boy in a straw hat

“I know you probably have a lot of questions” you say, your hands fidgeting in his with nervousness. You expect him to be mad, to blow up at you and yell at you to leave but he doesn’t, instead you feel his thumb rubbing circles comfortingly on your knuckles. “Think you can get the old man? I think I owe it to you to explain….oh and I’ll pay for the food. I grabbed a random plate on the way here”

[anna-hawk]

Getting down to business

Julian Kaye x F!Reader

Summary: You run across Julian Kaye on several occasions at the hotel your friend works at. Each time you see him, you are more and more fascinated by his easy charm. After one specific evening, you finally decide to make a business transaction with him in the hopes that Julian will be able to satisfy you in a way that no other man ever has.

Warning/Tags: oral sex (f!receiving), sex work, shy reader, body worship, fluff and smut

WC: 9.5k // Explicit 🔞

This is written for the Naughty or Nice Bernthirst Prompt Fest. The prompt was on the Naughty list and was “Keep your eyes open, look at me.” with Julian Kaye. Idk whose prompt it is, but I hope that I was able to work it into my initial idea well enough. I definitely had an incredible time writing for Julian, and it's some of the softest, yet still intense smut I've written. And we have a shy reader this time, which is also kind of a first for me.

Happy holidays everyone 🎉

Looking around yourself to take the whole restaurant in again, your eyes fell to the crystal chandelier hanging above the table you were sitting at with your three friends. It sparkled under the soft lights of the venue, giving the place an even more luxurious appearance than the rest of the decor already did. Your eyes travelled away from the chandelier and moved to the bar lying in your line of sight, where a man was sitting at, deep in conversation with the woman next to him. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what about him had attracted your eyes enough that you’d kept looking back towards him every few minutes since he’d sat down, but you’d found him intriguing right off the bat. He’d joined the woman he was still talking to a good twenty minutes ago, and she’d welcomed him with a seductive smile, which he’d returned with a sultry twist to his lips. They were nursing a glass of wine each, taking a sip here or there, as they kept their heads together while they spoke. You had no idea what they were talking about since, even if there hadn’t been some soft music playing, they were too far away for you to hear anything. From the body language, however, it was still pretty clear that they’d be leaving the hotel together. Or maybe get a room. 

You finally returned your attention to your friends, laughing when, Chloe, the birthday girl, got all excited as the waiter arrived with a small cake, three sparklers crackling on top of it. Clarissa, one of your two other friends, worked at the hotel and had managed to secure a table for tonight, the restaurant being fully booked on most evenings. The food was as delicious as expected, and the dessert proved just as good. While you were savoring the rich cream of the chocolate dessert, you glanced back to the man, only to find him standing and holding out his hand for the woman. You watched how she shot him a falsely coy smile before taking his hand and joining his side. 

“Looks like Julian has found a new client,” Clarissa chuckled next to you, and you noticed that she was looking in the same direction as you. 

“Julian?” You frowned curiously at her use of the word client. “Do you know him?”

“Sure. He’s an escort. He’s good friends with the head concierge, and the costumers he brings in are always super rich and leave huge tips. Well… I think they’re this generous because something else is huge,” Clarissa cackled at her joke, while Chloe and Zara snorted. 

Your eyes widened at the information. An escort? Looking him over with a new eye, you thought that he did fit the part. He was dressed to the nines, not a piece of clothing out of place, as was his impeccable hair, while the fitted suit he was wearing perfectly highlighted his body. He definitely looked like his clientele was from the upper crust. 

“Wonder how much a night with him is,” Chloe mused with an appreciative glance over her shoulder to look at the man while the two others laughed. 

“I don’t know, but I don’t think you could hire Julian Kaye with your teacher’s salary,” Clarissa winked at her, and Chloe flipped her off good-naturedly. 

“So he’s that good, huh?” you asked without meaning to as you watched Julian vanish towards the elevators with the woman. So they would be staying at the hotel. 

“From what I heard.” Clarissa shrugged. “I mean, he’s really nice and all, and he’s always super discreet with his clients. I’ve never been able to really overhear them talk whenever I was serving drinks while he was there. I think that’s what the ladies like about him… But rumor is that none of his clients ever left unsatisfied. You only need to see the looks on their faces when they leave,” she chuckled. 

The conversation steered into another direction after that, but your eyes kept returning to where the couple had left, like you were expecting to see them again and witness the proof of Clarissa’s words. Giving yourself a mental head shake as it happened for the fourth time, you forced yourself to stop and spent the rest of the evening steadfastly ignoring that corner of the hotel. 

A few days later, you made your way through the main hall of the hotel and towards the bar of the restaurant, intending to find Clarissa. You’d left a jacket at her place a few weeks earlier and had asked her to bring it today since the hotel was on your way home from work. 

Since it was late afternoon, there was only a low number of people at the bar. Julian Kaye was one of them, however. The man was sitting at the opposite end of the bar from where you were standing. This time, you were much closer to him than the first time you’d seen him, giving you the chance to take him in some more. He was sitting with his profile to you, giving you a perfect view of his chiseled jaw and the straight slope of his broad nose. Your eyes traveled to his lips as he smiled at something he was seeing on his phone, the relaxed expression looking at odds with the flirty smiles you’d seen a few nights earlier. Appearance wise, he looked just as fetching as the other day. This time, he was wearing a dark green suit that flattered his skin tone, and a pair of shiny black loafers. His hair fell slightly into his face from how he was leaning over the phone, but he brushed it back up by sliding his fingers through it. Watching him like this, you had no doubt that this man could have any woman he wanted. 

“Oh, hey, you’re already here.”

You blinked back to reality and turned your head away from Julian to face Clarissa, now standing across from you behind the bar. 

“Uh, yeah, hi, I was done earlier than expected, so I figured I could just grab a drink while I’m here before heading home.”

Clarissa beamed at your decision to stay for a while longer before she returned to the staff room to grab the jacket for you. You thanked her with a smile and plopped down on the stool in front of her. 

“The usual?” Clarissa asked, already reaching for a glass on the shelf behind her. 

You shrugged with a thoughtful look. “Why don’t you surprise me and mix something for me?” 

She grinned brightly and nodded excitedly; Clarissa was always sure to come up with some delicious cocktail. 

After you’d been chatting for some time while she busied herself with cleaning this or that item or serving customers, you suddenly noticed a tall form moving closer to you and a pleasant scent reaching your nose. Turning your head in the direction of the person, your eyes widened when you saw Julian standing barely a foot away from you as he leaned over the bar and towards Clarissa. 

“Hey, Clarissa, could you send us two whiskeys down there, please? Top shelf.” He extended a hand with a crisp dollar bill clamped between his index and middle finger. 

His voice was smooth and low as he spoke. It wasn’t particularly deep, but the soft, almost private sounding tone he used along with his friendly smile had a warm tingle running down your spine. 

“Coming right up,” Clarissa grinned, snagging the bill from his fingers and going to work instantly. 

Julian smiled back, before his face turned a bit and his eyes landed on you. You could feel your face heating under his attention, and were only able to stare at him wordlessly. His head titled faintly to the side as his lips pulled up more to one side. He was smirking at you, but there was only curious amusement in it. 

“You’re Clarissa’s friend?” he inquired, turning his whole body towards you this time. “Think I’ve seen you here a couple times before.”

Your eyes widened slightly at finding out that Julian had noticed you, even if it was only in relation to Clarissa. 

“Oh — um, yes.”

You didn’t get the chance to say anything more, since Clarissa came back with two tumblers of whiskey and pushed them over the dark wood of the bar and towards Julian.

“Here you go.” 

Julian grinned at her and picked the glasses up with a soft “Thank you”, then shot you a light wink before returning to the end of the bar where a woman was sitting. 

“He seems nice,” you mentioned to Clarissa in a completely fake nonchalant tone as you took a sip from your drink, not wanting to give away how curious you were about this Julian Kaye.  

“Julian? Yeah. Like I said the other day, he’s a really nice guy.” She held up the money he’d given her. “And a big tipper too. I’ve stopped trying to give him back any change, and he’s stopped telling me to keep it,” she said with a small laugh, moving to the side to finish the transaction with the till. 

“And the owner doesn’t mind him … working here?” you kept asking, glancing back towards Julian to see his lips pull into a playful smile at what the woman was telling him. He really had a beautiful mouth.

Clarissa shrugged. “It’s LA, right? I guess everyone wins in this situation and as long as there are no issues, no one really cares.”

You nodded, seeing her point. 

“Besides, it’s not like he’s here every night, either. He probably has his regulars here and there, and I know that he’s taken one or two of the women here to some fancy events.”

Humming at her explanation, you chose to change the subject, no matter how much you wanted to ask more questions. 

As you finally made your goodbyes twenty minutes later, you noticed that Julian was standing too and offering his arm to the woman. She seemed to be in her late 50s or early 60s, the plastic surgery she had gotten done making it harder to determine. As you slowly followed behind them to get to the exit of the restaurant, Julian noticed you as they stepped outside. He sent you a small smile and a nod of farewell, which you echoed shyly. You consciously refrained yourself from looking back at where he’d walked off to this time, and headed down in the opposite direction.

In the following days, your mind regularly returned to Julian. And his job. You had no doubt that the man actually had several clients over the whole city. He was beautiful and charming, and the way he looked at the person he was talking to made it seem like they had his full attention. You’d seen it during the two times he’d been talking to either of these women, but also when he’d talked to you. As short as the encounter had been, he’d really looked at you. 

Clarissa’s words also kept repeating in your head: Rumor is that none of his clients ever left unsatisfied. You bit the inside of your cheek each time you remembered that part and thought of his lips, wondering if… but then you shook your head, feeling ridiculous for entertaining that thought for even a second. 

That Saturday evening, you once again made your way through the hotel lobby and into the restaurant, looking for Clarissa. You and the girls were going out tonight, but Clarissa had to work a longer shift than anticipated due to one of her coworkers calling in sick. You’d offered to run by her place and pick up a few things for her so she could change at the hotel, and you’d go straight from there. 

Clarissa watched you approach with a bright smile, making grabby hands at the little bag you’d brought her with her stuff inside. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you. I thought the day would never end,” she sighed as you handed her the bag over the bar. “Thanks, I’ll be out front in a sec. Wanna drink something while you wait?” 

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just sit down over there.” You motioned to one of the small bar tables with your chin. 

Clarissa nodded and ran through the ‘employees only’ door at the back of the bar. 

While you waited, you let your eyes move around the bar, absently looking at the patrons coming in and out of the restaurant. 

“You’re by yourself tonight?” asked a low voice close by, making your head jerk in its direction. 

Julian was standing to the side of your table, smiling down at you with this soft expression that you realized was his natural smile. Today, he’d gone for dark gray slacks and a burgundy button down shirt, the top two buttons undone and the jacket thrown over one arm. Your heart started beating faster at the sight of him and the attention that was directed solely on you. You took in a deep breath to calm yourself, doing it slowly and hoping that Julian didn’t notice it. 

“Uh, no. I’m waiting for Clarissa to get ready to leave.”

Julian gave you a once over, making more heat run over your face and neck. 

“Going somewhere?”

“Uh huh… I mean, yes. We’re trying out this new, uh, restaurant down town and… yeah.”

You wanted to sink through the floor with how awkward you felt. Smooth? You didn’t know them. 

“Yeah? What’s the place called?” 

If he noticed your distress, he didn’t show it. Instead, he seemed so honestly interested that it rendered you to an even bigger stuttering mess. 

“Oh, um…” you blinked a few times, unable to remember the name of the restaurant. “It was, uh… something Italian?” 

Julian’s mouth quirked to the side in amusement, but it wasn’t mocking. If anything, it looked actually sort of fond, which had your heart doing double time. You also had to force yourself to not let your eyes stare at his expressive mouth.

You jerked in your seat at the call of your name a moment later, breaking the spell Julian had put on you with his eyes alone, and swiveled your head to see Clarissa walking up to the table. 

“I’m ready when you are,” she announced with a grin, before she looked at Julian. “Hey, Julian.”

“Hey,” Julian smiled, right before someone called out his name from down the bar, and he turned towards the voice. 

You and Clarissa followed his gaze and found a woman dressed in an elegant jumpsuit waiting for Julian at the entrance of the restaurant. 

“Ladies, if you’ll excuse me… Have a nice evening at that Italian place,” Julian smiled charmingly at the two of you. “It was nice seeing you again,” he added just for you, and the way he said your name at the end had warmth curling in your belly.

Somehow, the simple use of your name also helped you make a choice about something that you hadn’t consciously been thinking about; or rather, not allowed yourself to really think about. 

“You too,” you managed, as you got up and joined Clarissa, a rush of nervousness and exhilaration washing over you at your decision. 

Julian smiled again and gave you a nod while you and Clarissa said goodbye. You watched him walk towards the woman with long and smooth strides, making you instantly picture a panther. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Clarissa said, checking her phone. “Zara just texted that they’re already there.” 

You nodded and followed her as you hurried out of the hotel. 

“What’s the name of the restaurant again, by the way? Josh asked me earlier, but I couldn’t remember,” she asked a minute later, as you walked towards the nearest subway station.  

“Leoncini’s,” you replied automatically, still lost in thought. 

You mentally facepalmed a second later because, of course, now you remembered the name. If you decided to go through with your plan, then you would have to make sure that you would be able to string along more than one coherent sentence. 

Several hours later and after a fun evening with the girls, you laid in bed but were unable to go to sleep despite your tiredness. You felt both absolutely ridiculous, but also incredibly excited about your decision, which had you going back and forth on going through with it or not. 

But you were so curious, and the thought of Julian doing this to you had you squeezing your legs together. The fact that you were paying for his services was the part that made you the most self-conscious. But then, at least you could be sure that he’d take care of you, right? 

Grabbing one of your pillows, you pressed it over your face and groaned into it with exasperation and frustration, leaving it there for a good minute. As you finally removed it, your face now hot from embarrassment and the pillow itself, you stared at the ceiling and breathed in deeply. Once. You were going to do this once. For yourself. 

Deciding on how to approach Julian about the whole thing took you several days of psyching yourself into actually doing it. It was one thing to decide that you wanted to do it, and another one to actually go through with it. One thing was certain, the only place you knew Julian to regularly be at was the hotel, which meant that Clarissa couldn’t be working on the day you went there. Thankfully, you talked about your respective jobs often enough that you knew when she was off the following week. You could only hope that Julian would be there as well, since Clarissa had told you that he wasn’t there every night. 

That Friday evening, you made sure to put extra care in what you were wearing. Julian would probably not be available the same night, which was fine by you, but you still wanted to look your best while making your request. 

Your heart was beating like crazy during the whole time it took you to get to the hotel, and you had to shake out your hands before going in to stop your nervous twitching. With one final deep breath, you walked through the lobby, nodding at the person behind the reception desk since you knew them — hopefully he wouldn’t tell Clarissa about seeing you today — and entered the restaurant. You scanned the bar and the tables lined up in front of it. Not seeing him, you looked towards the restaurant tables, but you were just as unsuccessful in finding Julian. Heaving a sigh, you bit over your lower lip, wondering about what to do. You couldn’t be sure that he would come at all, but maybe he’d be in a little later. With a look at the bar, you chose to take a seat there and have a drink. Thankfully, you didn’t remember meeting the bartender who took your order. 

Nearly a whole hour passed before you started to think that tonight would be one of those nights where Julian wouldn’t show up. You checked your phone for the time again, and sighed, about to get up, when you heard laughter and lifted your head towards the doors. Julian, dressed in a deep blue suit, walked through them with another man, the latter laughing loudly, while Julian chuckled and shook his head. Your heart, which had had the time to calm down in the past hour, found the same nervous rhythm as when you’d first arrived. You closed your hands into fists over your thighs before rubbing your palms over them. Julian was walking in your direction, and you tried to angle your body so he would see that it was you, but also not make it obvious that you were hoping that he’d see you. Picking up your second drink and surreptitiously glancing up from under your lashes as you watched them come closer, you saw Julian listening to something the other man was saying while letting his eyes drift over the room. Recognition sparked in his eyes as his gaze landed on you. You met his eyes when his lips pulled into a smile, and sent him a small one in return. 

“Hey, how’re you doing?” Julian asked, stopping at your level. 

“Good, thank you,” you smiled, turning your glass in your hands before stopping the nervous motion. 

Julian looked around the bar and tilted his head. 

“Clarissa here?” 

Your eyes widened briefly at his question. Of course, he supposed you were here for Clarissa again. 

“Uh, no, she’s off today.”

Julian’s eyes went back to you, but you were unable to meet them. You stared into your glass instead. 

“Julian?” asked the other man after a beat of silence. 

You lifted your eyes again to see Julian looking at the man and nodding. 

“Have a good evening,” Julian said with a small smile directed at you and began walking again. 

Shit. You’d had the perfect opportunity, but you totally blew it by not engaging more with him, and now he was walking away. 

Feeling like a fool, you stared at his slowly retreating back and sighed loudly.

“Julian!” 

Julian looked back at you with the same surprise that you were feeling, since you hadn’t consciously decided to call out his name. Tightening your jaw with new resolve, you put your drink back on the bar and slid from the stool to take a step in Julian’s direction. 

“Do you maybe have a minute?” 

Frowning slightly for a second, Julian shot a look towards the other man. 

“I’ll join you later,” he told him. 

The man gave you a quizzical look, but agreed and continued on alone.

With his hands in the pockets of his pants, Julian slowly walked back to you, stopping a few feet away. 

“What’s-”

“Could we do this somewhere more private?” you cut in, nervously glancing around you and wringing your hands. 

Frowning again and squinting at you curiously, Julian motioned for you to follow him out of the restaurant and towards a somewhat secluded alcove. 

“What can I do for you, Sweetheart?” 

Your heart missed a beat at the endearment. By the way he was looking at you and his soft tone, Julian was clearly concerned about your need to talk to him. It took you another second to find your voice again and get your thoughts in order. 

“Okay, so, um… First off, I need this to stay between us. Clarissa can’t know, okay?”

Julian nodded slowly, one eyebrow lifting questioningly. 

“Of course.”

Nodding as well, you blew out a loud breath and uttered a small, nervous laugh. Now or never.

“Right, so…” you stalled for a second before powering on. “I’d like to… um… hire your services?”

Now both of Julian’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, as he’d clearly not expected anything of the sort. His head tilted to one side as he considered you, his back straightening and his hands going back into his pants. 

“And what kind of services would you like?” he wondered, taking a step closer to you as his voice lowered, turning more private. 

Willing the heat of embarrassment suffusing your face away, you bit over your bottom lip and glanced into his eyes before looking away again. 

“I would like you to make me come with only your mouth,” you replied quietly, forcing the blunt words out so there wouldn’t be any doubts about what you wanted or expected from him. 

Julian was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. 

“That’s it? Nothing else?” 

Looking at his questioning eyes, you nodded with a one-sided shrug. 

“I’ve never been able to get there with my previous partners, so,” you trailed off with another self-conscious shrug. 

“Then you haven’t been with any decent men,” Julian said with an unimpressed look on his face at the knowledge that seemingly no one had made enough of an effort for you. 

A small, surprised laugh escaped you at the vehemence in his tone. 

“Maybe, I don’t know, but…” you sighed. “I tend to, you know, always be too much in my head. Like, I can’t fully let go, I guess.”

Julian observed you quietly for a few seconds. 

“What makes you think it’ll be different with me?”

You’d asked yourself the same question, so the answer came quickly this time. 

“I suppose, well, hope really, that since there’s no pressure whatsoever for anything else beyond that, I’ll be able to, well, get out of my head.” You laughed under your breath. “And I have more confidence that you know what you’re doing.”

Julian chuckled at the last part, and he hummed thoughtfully. 

“And when would you like this to happen?” 

“So you agree?” you asked, eyes wide at his easy acceptance. 

He huffed out a small laugh of equal surprise and let his eyes travel over you. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

Heat blooming on your face, you looked away with a small smile. 

“Well… I’m usually free on any nights, so… Whenever you’re free, I guess… And,” you hesitated for a second? “What do you charge for that?” 

Julian pulled out his phone from the inside of his jacket and scanned it for a minute. 

“How about tomorrow?” he suggested, throwing you a brief look over the top of his phone as he typed. 

“Oh… um, okay.”

“Here okay, or you wanna go somewhere else?” 

You’d thought about that and even considered asking him back to your place if he agreed, but you’d quickly decided that you’d rather it happen somewhere neutral. You laughed nervously.

“Here would be fine by me, but I can barely afford more than two drinks here once in a while without having to eat cup noodles for the following week. So paying you and a room…” you laughed with a grimace and let the end of the sentence unspoken, the meaning clear without you voicing it. You were in a luxury hotel, and the drinks definitely followed the general rates of the establishment. Only Clarissa working here got you a small discount. “I’ll have to think about-”

“Tell you what… I can usually get a room here without problem,” Julian told you with a smile. 

“Oh… Really? I guess… If you’re sure, then that would be… great.”

Nodding decisively, Julian shook his phone and motioned it at you. 

“Can I have your phone number?” 

“Oh… Yes, sure.”

You recited the number while Julian typed it into his phone, then your own vibrated in your purse.

“I sent you the rates,” Julian explained as you pulled your phone out of your purse. 

You stared at the price popping up in the texts. It was expensive, but far less than you had expected, which was a good thing. Looking back at Julian, you gave him a succession of quick nods of agreement. 

“Um… how… do you prefer your payments? Do I wire them or, um… ugh, I’m sorry for being so awkward about all this… I keep feeling like I’m going to say something really offensive and ask the wrong question at some point.” 

You huffed out an exasperated laugh and rubbed your palms over your arms. 

“Don’t be,” Julian smiled gently, leaning forward to catch your gaze, which you had averted during your muttering. “Never anything wrong with asking for what you want. Any woman should be taken care of the way she deserves to. That’s what I’m here for.”

You bit your lip at the heartfelt words, and gave him a small, grateful smile for putting you at ease. 

“As for your question. Wired, cash, however’s fine by me,” he added. 

“‘kay… Is there something… I should… be aware of? Like dos and don’ts?” 

Julian considered you for a little moment and shook his head minutely. 

“Think about what you’ll be comfortable doing. Or me doing to you. I’ll follow your lead. But we can always go with the flow, see how I can get you out of that pretty head of yours.” He pointed at your forehead with a small chuckle. 

“Oh… yeah, okay.” 

Your breathing ticked up a notch at his words. 

“Right… Wanna meet in this spot tomorrow around 9?”

“Yeah,” you stopped yourself from saying okay again. You couldn’t remember how often you must have said it tonight, or any variation of it.

“Good,” Julian smiled, pocketing his phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Tomorrow,” you smiled back, nodding. 

With a last nod of goodbye, Julian turned around and walked back into the restaurant, leaving you to stare after him with a still baffled expression. This was actually going to happen. You were going to have that gorgeous man’s mouth on you. A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. 

When you woke up the next morning after barely getting any sleep the previous night from all the excitement and nervousness of what was to come, you started wondering if going to the hotel was the best idea. What if someone recognized you and saw you with Julian, only to tell Clarissa about it? Sure, it was none of her business, but you still didn’t feel like sharing what you were going to do with her or any of your two other friends. You couldn’t be sure that they’d understand; it was quite an unconventional request coming from you. 

After lying around in bed for an hour and going back and forth with your emotions on the matter, you finally put a lid on all of it and decided to just go for it. It was only tonight, you’d be discreet and even if someone saw you, what did they actually know that wouldn’t be anything more than wild assumptions? With a decisive nod, you got up and went about your day, trying to push any thoughts of that evening to the back of your mind so they wouldn’t distract you too much. Which you weren’t that successful at since you weren’t working and hadn’t planned anything in particular except for doing some chores. 

By the end of the day, you were a nervous wreck and only managed to go through the process of getting ready on autopilot. Before you knew it, it was ten minutes to nine, and you were, once again, standing in front of the hotel. Quickly going through the lobby and avoiding the reception desk just in case, you arrived at the alcove and found Julian already standing there. He was leaning against the wall, his stance relaxed with one ankle crossed over the other, while he looked at his phone. He’d gone for a charcoal suit with a dark red button down shirt. You swallowed at the outfit, as well as at his sharp jaw that looked freshly shaved and at his nose that scrunched up in thought. That gorgeous man would be yours for the night.

Julian’s head lifted as you came closer, his hair falling slightly into his eyes from the motion. Your breath caught as he smiled, one side of his mouth pulling up more than the other. 

“Hey,” he said and turned to you, taking a few steps in your direction to meet you halfway while his eyes swept over you. “You look beautiful.”

“Hey,” you replied in kind, except that it came out breathless and almost inaudible. “Thank you,” you managed after another breath, your face feeling hot. 

“Is there something you’d like to do before we go up or…?” Julian inquired, putting his hands in his pockets, but still leaning closer to you. 

“Um, no, I think I’m good,” you muttered, trying to get your heart beat under control. 

Julian nodded with a small smile and extended an arm in the direction you were going into before leading the way. As you silently followed him to the elevators, you glanced down at his hands that were still sitting in his pants. He hadn’t touched you at all. He’d come closer, as he’d done yesterday evening, talked in a seductive voice, but he hadn’t touched you, keeping his hands to himself at all times. As excited for that to change as you were, you realized that he was doing it on purpose and clearly for your sake, considering how he hadn't refrained from touching his other clients. You felt immeasurably glad about him picking up on you being apprehensive of being touched in public. Thus far, Julian had been incredibly professional about everything. He had been surprised by your initial approach, but as soon as he’d understood what you were looking for, he’d never acted in any way or said anything to make you feel uncomfortable or ashamed about what you were asking for. You rode the elevator in silence, but you noticed that Julian was giving you furtive glances every few seconds. It wasn’t until you’d walked up to the suite’s door — yes, he’d gotten you a goddamn suite — that Julian finally spoke. 

“Just so we’re clear. Anything that is going to happen in this room, or not happen for that matter, is fully up to you. You choose that we stop here, that’s totally fine. Got it?”

You stared into his brown eyes, gentle and honest. Was your nervousness that obvious? You scoffed internally. Of course it was. You must have been fidgeting non-stop since the moment you’d seen him. 

“Got it,” you replied, infusing as much determination into your voice as possible. You did want this, after all. 

Julian nodded with a small smile and pulled a key card out of the inside of his jacket. He pressed it against the door handle, a click sounding instantly as the door unlocked. Taking a step to the side, Julian motioned for you to do the honors and open. With one last deep breath, you pulled down the handle and stepped into the room, only for that breath to whoosh out of you a second later as you took in the room. It was a small apartment rather than a room; it had a small living room dividing the room into two areas, a large bathroom showing through a door to the left, a balcony to the right, and the bedroom across from the entrance. The bed was bigger than any bed you’d ever slept in, and everything in the room showed off what a luxurious place the hotel was. 

“Please tell me you didn’t pay for this just for me. Julian, that’s-”

“I didn’t,” Julian assured you with a faint smile. 

You stared at him dubiously before looking around you again. 

“You got this for free?”

Julian shrugged noncommittally and walked to the mini fridge sitting next to the small couch to peer inside. 

You opened your mouth to insist on the matter, since you didn’t want Julian to pay any extravagant amounts of money for you, but Julian beat you to it. 

“Let’s just say that I have an agreement with the head concierge. This suite was available tonight, so he gave it to me.” 

You suddenly remembered Clarissa saying something along those lines during Chloe’s birthday dinner, and nodded, accepting the explanation. Julian smiled again as you slowly walked up to him while scanning the room and looking out at the city lights twinkling through the balcony doors and the bedroom windows.

“Do you wanna drink something?” Julian asked after he’d shrugged out of his jacket and let you take everything in. 

You looked back at him and then the mini fridge, which wasn’t that small for a mini fridge. 

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” you said softly, glancing at the couch and putting your purse on it. Biting your lip, you removed the envelope with the money from the purse and placed it on top of the fridge. 

Slowly returning your eyes to Julian, you saw him observing you quietly and not even glancing towards the envelope. You tried not to fidget as much as you wanted to under his attention, although your hands twitched at your sides as you forced yourself not to cross your arms. 

“Can I touch you?” he asked quietly, tilting his head minutely as he locked his gaze with yours.

“Well, considering what's supposed to happen, I think that you will have to touch me, yes,” you laughed awkwardly and bit over your bottom lip.

Julian came closer, standing toe to toe, and lifted a hand to stroke his fingers along your neck and to your nape. 

“I meant like this.” 

His voice was low and intimate and sent shivers down your spine, as did his fingers on your already hot skin. 

“Oh… um… yes, sure,” you breathed, unable to speak more loudly than a rough whisper.

He smiled, something soft but hiding more. You definitely wanted to find out about what this more entailed. 

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes were on your mouth, which parted in surprise at his question. 

“Isn't there like — I thought — Shit, I must sound so stupid but… is it, like, a misconception of mine or… I always kinda thought that kissing wasn't… part of this?” you babbled, as your brain tried to deal with his request and the idea of him kissing you.

Julian chuckled, amused, and stroked his thumb along your chin. 

“I'm not pretty woman.” 

You laughed under your breath and sucked in your lower lip, some of your anxiousness leaving you at his easy joking.

“No… but you're definitely a pretty man.”

Julian's mouth moved into a sweet and genuine grin before he leaned in closer until his lips were only an inch away from yours. 

“Some people don't like kissing. And I don't kiss all my clients… But I'd like to kiss you very much, if that's okay.” 

His voice was husky and soft, and you were unable to do anything more than stare into his brown eyes and nod. He smiled, soft and pleased, and moved in.

His lips grazed over yours and your eyes fell shut at the feeling. You slowly moved your lips against his, following his lead, as he alternated between pressing them more firmly against yours or retreating until the touch was barely there. Just as slowly, his other hand curled around your waist, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. It was only then that you finally lifted your hands as well. You slid them up his back and held on to the fabric of his shirt at his shoulder blades. Your grip tightened as Julian tentatively stroked his tongue along your top lip, requesting access to your mouth. Access which you willingly granted. You made a small sound at the first touch of his tongue against yours. How could he make you already so weak in the knees with only a kiss? What would happen when he got to what you were initially paying him for? When his mouth slid towards your jaw, you instantly tilted your head to the side and moaned at the feeling of his teeth teasing along your skin. He ultimately stopped at where your neck met your shoulder and gently sucked at the spot. 

“That okay?” he asked, his rougher voice making you shiver. 

“Uh huh,” you panted. 

After a minute of this, Julian’s mouth climbed up your neck again to reach your lips. 

“Can I undress you?” 

Your eyes opened a fraction as your fuzzy brain tried to process his question. As you bit your lip, Julian’s eyes slid to your mouth, before they returned to yours with… Could it be desire? Instead of contemplating what his look could possibly mean, you finally nodded in silent agreement before whispering a tiny, “Yes.” 

Smiling, Julian kissed you again and rendered you just as breathless as earlier before he even began going for your clothes. He slowly pulled you forward as he walked you towards the bedroom, his lips and tongue still drawing moans and sighs from you. As you reached the bed, Julian pressed one last kiss against your lips, then stepped around you until he was standing at your back. He started removing every piece of clothing with slow and deliberate care, while his mouth teased at your nape and shoulders or behind your ears. Your entire body was wracked by shivers the further he went, until you were a trembling mess once he had you fully naked. His large hands slid over your sides and to your stomach, the heat and touch of them making goosebumps rise in their wake. 

“Julian,” you gasped softly, not exactly knowing what you wanted to say. His name just fell from your lips at the gentle care he was handling you with. 

“You’re so responsive,” Julian said with a note of wonder, as his fingers trailed up your chest and tickled between your breasts. He let out a soft chuckle as you arched your back and pressed your head against him when he circled his index fingers around your areolas. “So responsive.” 

You exhaled sharply and moaned when he took both nipples between thumb and pointer finger and pinched them just the tiniest bit. By now, you could feel the dampness between your legs, and pressed your thighs together as Julian continued his sweet exploration. When you had asked him to make you come with his mouth, you had expected him to do just that; get you on a bed or couch and literally go down to business. Nothing more and nothing less. You certainly hadn’t thought that he’d treat you basically like a lover, touch you in ways that had never gotten this kind of reaction out of you. He’d commented on how responsive you were, but you had never reacted this way with anyone before, which either really said a lot about your previous partners or about Julian’s talent. Maybe a bit of both. One thing was certain, if this was the service he was giving to all his clients, then his reputation was no surprise. At all. 

As one of his hands moved down your belly and towards your hips, he paused as he reached just above your mound. 

“Can I use my hands too, or just my mouth?” he asked against the shell of your ear, getting yet another shiver out of you.

A wave of heat ran through you, and you felt yourself getting wetter still at the idea of having his fingers right there. 

“Yes,” you breathed, before realizing that this didn’t answer his question, and you swallowed before you elaborated as best as you could. “Your fingers.” 

Julian smiled against your skin, then licked his way down your neck and back up. 

“Spread your legs a bit for me?” 

Despite your shaky legs, you did as asked and widened your stance, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt against your bare back. Julian hummed pleasantly and wrapped his arm around you just under your breasts before he let his other hand continue down its original path. Your mouth parted for your gasped out breaths as Julian slid two fingers between your legs to stroke them along your outer lips, as if testing your response. Both of your hands went to the arm around your chest and gripped it, as Julian moved one of the fingers to your center to gently slide it through your folds. 

“I think I’ll have a lot of fun making you come,” Julian said in a low tone, as he repeated the motion and lightly circled over your already pulsing clit. 

You keened at the touch, your head falling forward as Julian kept teasing and teasing over the same spot, the touch featherlight but still managing to light your nerve endings on fire. All through the haze of need, you still realized that Julian hadn’t said “try to make you come”, instead, he was clearly confident that he would. By how this was going, you were less and less uncertain as well. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and get comfortable on the bed?” he suggested after a minute.

Thankfully, and Julian probably knew to do it from experience, he didn’t pull back from you immediately after his request and let you gather your bearings enough to no topple over once he wouldn’t be behind you anymore. He slowly let go of you and let you walk out of his space in your own time. If you were honest with yourself, you could have stayed right where you had been all night, as long as Julian kept talking and touching you the way he’d done so far. Now that he wasn’t touching you anymore, a bit of self-consciousness returned, which stopped you from looking at him as you moved towards the bed and reclined on top of it, feeling suddenly exposed. Especially since he was still fully dressed. 

“Look at me,” Julian said softly. It was a request, not an order.

It was this small difference that made you do as asked. You slowly met his gaze, and saw him smiling at you tenderly as he knelt on the foot end of the bed. 

“You’re beautiful, Sweetheart.”

You uttered a surprised and shaky laugh and closed your eyes for a moment. When you looked back at him, you gave him a small smile and managed to relax against the pillows. Clearly pleased by your reaction, Julian pressed his other knee to the bed as well and moved up until his was kneeling in front of you. You’d bend your legs at the knees but had squeezed your thighs together. With his eyes on your face, Julian leaned down and placed a small kiss on each of your kneecaps, a tiny smile on his lips. The act had you giggling lightly and exhaling a deep breath. Your lips parted as Julian’s hands drifted down the outside of your thighs, only to move back up again, the touch soothing but also turning you on some more. You observed him as he kept pressing kisses along your knees, silently waiting for you to part your legs. As soon as you did, Julian shot you a pleased smile and proceeded to do the same thing he’d been doing to the outside of your thighs, but on the inside this time, and with his mouth. Air rushed past your lips at the ticklish yet arousing touch. You were unable to tear your eyes away from Julian’s head as he went further down until his mouth stopped at the juncture between hips and thighs. You were panting in anticipation at the idea of Julian finally moving to your center, except that he had other plans. He quickly turned his head to the other side and did the same as with the other leg but in the reverse, kissing his way up, until he was back at your knee. The small smirk he sent you had you groaning and squeezing your eyes shut. He was teasing you deliberately, and you had to admit that you liked it a lot. Your stomach quivered with need. Julian knew how to drive you high without even touching you where you needed him the most. 

“Julian,” you breathed, as your fingers gripped the comforter at your hips. “Please?” 

Julian ducked his head and shook it with a small, affectionate laugh. 

“So responsive,” he mumbled, as if to himself. “Keep your eyes open,” he added with one last glance at you, before he knelt down all the way and pressed a long kiss against your mound. 

Your mouth fell open as his tongue slowly flicked out and made its way down your outer lips. He traced patterns over them in such a way that you had no idea what he would be doing next; up, down, left, right, but never in the same order. At the first pass of his tongue through your folds, your eyes opened wide and the air came whooshing out of your throat sharply, accompanied by a surprised moan. Julian went slowly, taking his time as he drew his tongue over every part of you, leaving nothing untouched. When he began suckling at your lips teasingly, one of your hands automatically went to his head, your fingers gripping his soft hair. 

“So — sorry,” you gasped at Julian’s grunt, and instantly let go of his hair. 

Before you could retreat your hand all the way, Julian’s own hand shot out to snatch your wrist and pull your hand back to his head. 

“Go ahead,” he said, looking up at you with intense eyes. 

He spoke against your flesh, and the rush of air and small vibrations caused by his words had you uttering a small gasp. Licking your lips, you slid your fingers through his hair again. He had you tightening your grip again a second later when, with his eyes still on you, Julian sucked your clit right into his mouth. You cried out at the unexpected move and the pleasure coming from it. Your hips bucked into his face, and you had the need to apologize for that too, but Julian only groaned and held you tighter to him with his arms around your thighs. He took it easy after the first initial suck, clearly wanting to take his time there as well and not overwhelm you. You were grateful for that, since you were still unsure if hard and fast could do it for you, no matter how aroused you were after the foreplay. He still kept your hips from moving too much, making you take his ministrations with just the right intensity. As he nibbled around your lips before tonguing your clit with light strokes, you felt one of his arms let go of your legs and the hand moving to under your thigh. 

“Only my mouth, or can I use my fingers too?” Julian asked again, except that this time, he meant if he could use them at the same time. Just the thought had you moaning without meaning to. How could you say no to having his talented mouth and gorgeous hands on you? 

“Both… I want… both,” you got out, panting rapidly. 

With his eyes on yours, Julian used his thumb to slowly rub through your drenched flesh, moving it up until he could press it against your clit and circle it a few times. You whimpered, unable to look away from him, and moaned long and high as he slid the thumb back to slip one of his large fingers inside you. As the second one followed, this time, you couldn’t keep your head from falling back and closing your eyes. Julian kept his fingers barely moving for a few seconds, before he had your eyes flying open again when his mouth descended on your clit to flick at it with the tip of his tongue. He sucked and lapped at his continuously, while his fingers started moving for real, curling against your walls with each plunge in and out. 

You were… a mess. 

Julian had transformed you into a moaning and begging ball of need, your fingers flexing in his hair or the comforter as your hips moved against his mouth and fingers on their own accord. It was with both surprise and no surprise that you felt the tendrils of your orgasm assembling in the spots where Julian was touching you. You could feel them coiling together, gathering and getting bigger and warmer as your belly contracted, and your legs began to shake without your control. 

“Julian,” you gasped, sounding nearly panicked at the idea that he could stop and rip this feeling away from you. 

But Julian never relented. He worked his mouth and lips like a magician with his best trick, his fingers adding the last element that had you suddenly flying over the edge with a shocked gasp as your hips bucked. Everything went white and silent as the peak of your orgasm hit you, pleasure of the most intense kind you’d ever felt with someone else being the only thing that registered with you. After the more intense part began to fade, you felt Julian kissing the inside of your thigh as he spoke to you in a low and soothing tone. Words of praise hit your ears and made your body glow with another form of pleasure. You slowly opened your eyes as you felt Julian coming to lie next to you on the bed, and turned your head to gaze at his smiling face. Since you were still drifting on the pleasure, you couldn’t even feel any form of embarrassment at the sight of his glistening nose, lips and chin. Julian reached across your body and pulled at the comforter to tug it around you. You smiled drowsily at the gesture and the softness of the fabric against your cooling skin. Julian held himself up on an elbow and put his head on his palm as he watched you. Despite the messy hair, which you were responsible for, the flushed and shiny face, and the wrinkled dress shirt, Julian still looked as gorgeous as always. Maybe even more so because he looked utterly relaxed and at ease. That thought had you wondering about Julian’s needs. Did he get aroused while doing this? Should he do something about it? Or maybe he didn’t get turned on at all and- 

No.

You forbid yourself from letting your mind go down that road. This wasn’t a relationship. Julian didn’t have to get turned on by any of it. This had been about you, and Julian had gone above and beyond what you could have ever expected from this. 

“Do you ever get actually turned on when you do something like that?” you asked anyway, your mouth not listening to your brain, apparently. “Wait, no, don’t answer that. I didn’t mean to ask this,” you groaned as you closed your eyes, and cursed under your breath. 

Julian didn’t seem fazed and chuckled softly. “You’re sure?”

You glanced back at him and huffed in thought. 

“I… I wasn’t asking if this…” you made a vague gesture at yourself as a whole. “Turned you on… I mean… I'm not expecting you to be… and I'm aware that escorts down always have sex with their clients but… um… I guess, I’m just… curious,” you sighed at the end of your word vomiting.

“About the mechanics?” Julian smiled, clearly not bothered by your curiosity or babbling. 

You thought about that term and nodded. It was a job, after all. Julian shrugged and for a second, he got a far away look that held such a strong note of sadness in it that you nearly stopped him from going on before the look vanished completely and Julian smiled again. 

“It’s a question of working with the moment, I guess. Creating a special connection with that person. Setting the mood… and, well, habit is a factor, I suppose. Let's say that being able to get it up is different from being turned on.”

You hummed thoughtfully as you took in the information. You were glad that you didn't ruin the moment and that he was willing to share as much. 

“Well, you sure know how to create that connection,” you laughed softly and turned on your side. 

Julian snorted softly through his nose and grinned at you, rubbing a hand over your covered arm once you faced him.

“Some connections are much easier to create than others.”

His soft look had you smiling and looking down, feeling suddenly shy again. 

“Thank you for doing this, Julian,” you muttered, glancing up at him once more. 

His hand moved to your face and his thumb stroked over your cheekbone in a gentle caress. 

“It was my absolute pleasure, Sweetheart.”

And you actually believed him. Believed that he’d enjoyed giving you this pleasure, no matter if you’d paid for it. 

You stared at him for a while, just looking, and Julian didn’t seem to mind. 

“Do you have to get back?” you asked at length, looking around yourself for a clock, but not finding any. 

Julian didn’t reply immediately, but he shrugged when you looked back at him. 

“I can stay a little while longer.”

That statement had you smiling and closing your eyes. Julian’s fingers played with your hair as you drifted for a while, his presence and the comfortable bed pulling you under.

The next time you opened your eyes, he was gone. You hadn’t even realized that you’d fallen asleep. It couldn’t have been that long, however, since it was still dark outside. Turning around with a long sigh, you glimpsed a folded piece of paper on the bedside table. You sat up to reach for it, the comforter falling around your waist as you moved. 

Please stay for as long as you want. The room’s all yours for the night. Take anything you need from the fridge, it’s on me. 

Julian

You smiled fondly at the neat script and put the note back on the table. 

A nice bath in a fancy hotel room sounded like the perfect way to end this incredible night. 

[dancingbirdie]

hi I love your writing and I wanted to ask if you could write soft Lae'zel with tav. Since it would be interesting and Lae'zel even when she is soft isn’t what we tend to think of as soft. Again I love your writing and I hope your day is going well sorry for rambling!

Anon, this was so much fun to write - I hope you enjoy it as well! I LOVE Lae'zel. She's my in-game warrior wife. Hopefully I captured her persona well enough. xoxoxo

Source of My Bruises/Source of My Joy

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings/Tags: Descriptions of injury/blood/violence, angst, FLUFF, Lae'zel x f!Tav, Act 2 spoilers, Minor Act 3 spoilers.

She remained hunched over Tav’s hands, like a supplicant before an altar. The sight brought tears to Tav’s eyes. She had never seen Lae’zel so affected. 

A whiplike sting across her sternum and collarbone. Warm liquid flooding down her chest. Unforgiving coarseness of jagged stone under her. A guttural cry of outrage. It was all Tav could remember before losing consciousness. 

Slowly, she opened sleep-crusted eyes to take in her current surroundings. 

She was lying in Lae’zel’s tent. The Githyanki was seated next to her, polishing a greatsword with singular, intense focus. Her momentary distraction afforded Tav the opportunity to study the warrior, appreciate her fearsomeness. Her austere beauty. 

Not that Tav had ever been inclined toward bouts of lovesick ogling, but there were precious few moments when she could truly appreciate the Githyanki uninterrupted. Lae’zel was a force of nature to behold. Like a supernova made flesh. 

Tav knew she intimidated and exasperated the others in their party, but not her. Tav had been captivated by Lae’zel from the instant she dropped in front of her on the Nautiloid ship, poised to cut her down like chaff separated from wheat. It had been like coming face to face with a natural disaster. Glorious. Fearsome. Staggering. 

Gazing at her now, Tav took in the deep furrow of Lae’zel’s brows. The harsh lines of a grimace etched around her mouth. The slight flaring of her nostrils. Her pursed lips. The rhythmic motion of her arms as she cleaned the blade. Her body was almost vibrating with pent-up energy.  

Without further delaying the inevitable, Tav made a weak attempt to clear her throat and announce her consciousness. But the movement sent a surge of pain spearing through her chest, causing her to cough harder. Bringing a hand to her chest reflexively, Tav noticed for the first time the thick weave of bandages covering her upper torso. The herbal, earthy smell of some medicinal salve wafted to her nose. What in the seven hells had happened?

Of course, Tav had sustained her fair share of wounds on their journey thus far, but she had never been so badly injured as to warrant this level of care. Whatever had happened to her, it must have brought her a hair’s width from death.

“Chk. Cease your squirming. The bandages will slip,” Lae’zel commanded, having dropped her weapon and clambered to Tav’s side to readjust the wound dressing.  

“What-” attempted Tav, before pausing to try to swallow the cotton feeling in her mouth.

Sensing her discomfort, Lae’zel reached for a carafe of water beside Tav’s head. Gently, more gently than Tav would have thought possible for the Githyanki, Lae’zel cupped the back of Tav’s head and helped her take small sips from the pitcher. 

“Thank you,” Tav murmured, resting back on the pillow once more. But despite the softness of Lae’zel’s touch moments before, the warrior now glared at Tav with barely restrained ire. 

“Istik! You were foolish to stumble into that Cloaker’s lair alone. You would have succumbed to your wounds had I not reached you in time,” she spat. But there was an undercurrent of some new emotion in her voice. 

Tav’s eyes widened in surprise at Lae’zel’s words. Slowly, as if she were dredging the memories from some deep pit in her mind, the encounter moments before Tav slipped into unconsciousness resurfaced. 

She, Lae’zel, and the rest of the party members had been exploring the ruins of the Temple of Shar. There had been an alcove in one of the temple antechambers. It resembled other passages they had seen leading to the Underdark, or at least that’s what Tav had thought. She’d scaled the crumbling wall to get a better look, explore the area further. It wasn’t until she was standing in the area proper that she realized the alcove was much larger than it had appeared, its ceiling far higher than what her eyes could see. The Cloaker had struck from above her, its barbed tail lacerating the flesh of her chest and shoulder. She had heard someone cry out from behind her, but the wound had been too great for her to remain conscious. 

The anguished cry had come from Lae’zel, Tav realized now with certainty. The truth of it struck her speechless. She had never heard the Githyanki utter any sound like that before. 

Tav swallowed thickly, keeping her eyes steady on Lae’zel. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she whispered honestly. 

Lae’zel had been opening her mouth, preparing to rebuff Tav’s counterpoint, but snapped it shut in surprise as she realized the words Tav had spoken were not stoking an argument, as they usually tended to do, but rather quelling it. 

In the blink of an eye, the inferno that had been Lae’zel’s barely-contained rage and distress simmered. Her hands trembled slightly as they took Tav’s in a firm grip. 

Tav watched as she leaned over, lowering her forehead to rest against the backs of Tav’s hands. She felt Lae’zel shudder, saw her back heave with stilted, uneven breaths. She was holding onto Tav like she was a lifeline.

“Zhak vo'n'ash duj. Source of my bruises,” Lae’zel whispered after a while, her voice heavy with emotion. “I was certain I would lose you to that cursed creature.”

“I can only assume you tore it limb from limb. I hate I missed such a scene,” Tav said in an attempt at levity.

“I eviscerated its body and burned the remains. It deserved nothing less,” Lae��zel swore in a muffled voice. She remained hunched over Tav’s hands, like a supplicant before an altar. The sight brought tears to Tav’s eyes. She had never seen Lae’zel so affected. 

“You will never lose me,” Tav said in a soft whisper. “I am yours, Lae’zel. I will forever be yours, even in death.”

Lae’zel lifted her head to meet Tav’s gaze. 

“We are bound,” she intoned.

“We are bound,” Tav responded, lifting a hand to cup the Githyanki’s cheek. She marveled at the way Lae’zel seemed to melt into her touch, her eyes fluttering closed, her breaths evening out. 

“Come here,” Tav said, after a few quiet moments had passed. “Lie down with me. We both need rest.”

Lae’zel’s eyes flickered open at the suggestion, a torn expression on her face. The need to protect versus the need for comfort warred plainly across her features. But Tav would have none of her valiant posturing tonight. She knew that both of them needed the embrace of one other, after everything that had happened. Tav gripped her cheek more firmly. 

“The others will keep watch, Lae’zel. Stay with me now. Please,” Tav urged.

Lae’zel stared at her in silence for a beat longer before finally giving in. Stretching out her long legs, the warrior relaxed into Tav’s side, careful not to disturb the bandages wrapped across her torso. 

Tav took Lae’zel’s hand in hers once more and gave it a firm squeeze. 

“I am yours,” she assured Lae’zel again, just for good measure, as her eyelids grew heavy with the need for rest. 

Sleep was quickly coming upon her. She thought she heard Lae’zel’s quiet reply in Githyanki before she slipped away, but Tav did not understand the words. 

“Zhak vo’n’fynh duj.” 

The phrase carried her into a dreamless, peaceful slumber.

[winniethewife]

But I'm gonna love you anyhow

(Nathan Bateman x F!reader)

A/N: Inspired by a Prompt by @gingersforeverbox

Words:679

“So that's the new girl that he’s dating?”

“They’ve apparently been going out in secret for months”

“She looks…” Like what a whore? A Bitch? A floozy? A Gold digger? She almost dares them to finish the sentence as they talk behind her back. “Nice.” Ugh that was worse than an insult. She could do without all these fake niceties that this kind of crowd always seems to rely on. She took the champagne flute from one of the servers with a polite smile. She sips at it and looks around for a moment, trying to spot Nathan in the crowded room. She understood the importance of going to these charity galas occasionally to keep him in good graces with the public eye, but after several months of spending all their time together out in his home in Alaska, all these people was almost overwhelming. She didn’t belong here, among the upper crust, with the press outside hoping for a glimpse, she felt out of place, even if she was perfectly dressed and styled like every other person in the room.

She finally spotted Nathan across the room, he looked nice in a suit, he was so often dressed in casual lounge wear that she had honestly been shocked that he even owned one. She watches as Nathan laughs at something the guy he was talking to said, she knew him well enough to know that was a fake laugh, the way the smile didn’t reach his eyes, it was obvious to her, but to no one else. She smiled slightly at the thought, the idea that of all the people in the room, she was the only one who truly knew him. As she watched him he eventually looked over at her, a genuine smile crosses his face. He turns to the people he was talking to and appears to dismiss himself before walking over to her.

“You look amazing Honey. How am I so lucky to have you?” He asks cheekily while wrapping an arm around her waist, she feels the nerves and irritation from the evening wash away as she feels his hand gripping her side firmly, with a gentle possession.

“I don’t know, you’re kind of an asshole, I’m not sure why I stick around.” She teases as she leans into him. He looks down at her resting her head in the crook of his arm with mock offence.

“Oh my darling why- Why would you say such a thing?” He couldn’t keep up the fake hurt tone bursting in to laughter midsentence. “No, no you’re right. I deserve that no doubt. But I will say, you make me want to be better, but only for you. Fuck the others.” He kisses the top of her head before looking out on the party. As He scans the room he holds her close, and as he holds her she can’t help but feel emotions surging in her chest, to hear something so sentimental from Nathan was unusual, but she liked it. The Judgement of the others in the room was far from her mind now, the feeling of outsiderhood vanished. She could belong anywhere as long as he was with her. She looked up into his dark brown eyes. As long as he was with her, she could be anywhere, do anything, and be anyone. The options were unlimited.

"I don’t think I want you to change. I think that's what I love about you...you're just...you." She says with a smile and a turn, her back against his chest now, his arms still around her. Nathan chuckled. He was really the luckiest guy in the room. There was so much she didn’t know about him, but she was going to love him anyhow. And that was more than he could ever hope for. He leans down to whisper in her ear.

“I’ve heard there's some oddly phallic ice sculptures in the other room…wanna check them out?” He mutters. She laughs. There’s not a thing about him that she would change.

“I would love to see that.”

~

Masterlist

Tags: @burymesanti @silvernight-m @faretheeoscar @queerponcho

[copperbadge]

La Festa Alla Cinque Cibi!

[ID: My little cafe table near the kitchen, with dinner laid out on it: a plate with fried artichoke, cuts of slow-cooked beef stracotto, and two potato dumplings, with another holding a slice of pie and some cookies nearby. As a finishing touch, I included a bottle of Coke Zero, in homage to my being unable to get any Diet Coke while I was in Rome. The decks of cards in the upper left are the tarot and oracle cards I'm using for New Year's fortunetelling in a bit.]

The Festa Alla Cinque Cibi was a success! Everything came out at least close to what it ought to be and all was delicious. Plus I had forgotten I wanted to make a sauce for dipping the fried artichoke leaves into, but the sauce that the beef cooked in came out so flavorful and nice that I just poured out a little bowl of it and used that for dipping.

[ID: A closeup of the dinner plate, showing a gold-red tomato pesto sauce, the chunks of slow-cooked beef, the fried burik dumplings, and the mahogany leaves of the fried artichoke.]

It is a somewhat monochromatic meal. I probably should have included some kind of non-fried plant or something.

The artichoke was a bit spiky but those buttery inner leaves were perfect. The beef almost didn't come out -- I thought I'd ruined it by browning it too much and making it tough, but then in the last half hour I bumped the temperature on the slow-cooker and the collagen almost immediately began to melt, turning it much more fork-tender and velvety. I'm very much looking forward to leftovers on sandwiches. The burik reheated well, but are also pretty good cold.

And the ricotta cheesecake DID set!

[ID: A close-up of the ricotta cheesecake, with rich deep red cherry jam on the bottom and an airy-textured cheesecake filling under a thick upper crust; a few light tan amaretti cookies are visible on the right.]

The crust was a bit thick but not at all dry. The ricotta filling was very plain, but I prefer a less-sweet pie and the cherry preserve on the bottom added all the flavor needed, really. The amaretti kept pretty well, and tasted nice with the Coke Zero.

The artichoke is a bit of a showpiece, I don't think it's something I'd cook very often, though everything else was varying levels of "yeah I could eat this on the reg". The burik are really delicious and the stracotto is pretty low-maintenance. I liked this version of the cheesecake but I'm not sure if its simplicity would appeal to a lot of people. The amaretti are great, and both simple to make and gluten-free.

All the process photos and recipes are linked in the "festa alla cinque cibi" tag, but I'm definitely going to have to copy a few over into my regular cookbook.

I will admit that by the time I sat down with it all I was pretty tired, so I just kind of inhaled it all and left a wreckage behind. But the leftovers are cooling off before being put in the fridge, and frankly the dishes are 2024 Sam's problem.

[megamindsecretlair]

Midnight Sin - Chapter 4

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

Pairing: Vampire!Tyrone x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Long exposition that ends in smut. Oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving) PIV, cursing, AU Tyrone, Toxic Tyrone. Dark fic. Dirty talk. Mentions of blood, overstimulation. The concept of "rolling" is brought up when Tyrone is able to hypnotize reader, but it is consensual.

Summary: A chance meeting at a club introduced you to the enigmatic Tyrone. He was interesting in ways that you weren't expecting. Tyrone gets a visit from his brother and needs to see you to ease a little tension.

Word Count: 8,529k

Midnight Sin Masterlist

A/N: WHEW! Welcome back, ya'll. I ain't forget about our main man. I just got a little distracted. I hope this chapter makes up for the long absence. Thank you SO MUCH for all the love towards this series! It means the world to me! I don't tag ageless blogs. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! Ageless blogs get blocked.

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @umber-cinders @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz

Tyrone

Tyrone sat in his office and flipped through his journal from his time in Versailles. He laughed at some of his entries. How young he was. How carefree. It was easier to hide during that time. No one really walked around in the day time except for the upper crust society and that was just to parade around for others.

The real happenings went on inside and in private rooms. There were other entries that he had long forgotten about. The friends he’d made. The loves he’d lost. An ache thumped in his chest and he absently rubbed it while he read. 

This was the part he hated. He had loved and lost, loved and lost over the centuries. The loss became so loud that it was easier to forget. Easier to live in the moment. Easier to be a coward and hide. 

However, he wrote so much shit down, he had no idea what Fontaine had been talking about. He briefly remembered the woman he shared with his brother. It ought to be criminal to forget someone that meant so much to them both, but when the years began to bleed together, he ejected core memories to stay sane.

A knock tore his thoughts from the memories of his youth. He called for the person to enter. 

Slick Charles entered wearing another outfit that made him look like a rent-a-pimp. Thick black turtleneck sweater, overcoat, and boots. It wasn’t even that fucking cold in LA but you’d swear they were in the middle of the arctic with the way he dressed.

He entered with a woman trailing behind him. She looked like a cartoon with exaggerated, doll-like features. A wide smile and puffy, afro-like hair. She was dressed modern with an airy, flowery dress and knee high boots. She clutched a large purse against her body and walked in warily.

“I don’t appreciate being summoned, mu’fucka,” she said.

Tyrone grinned. “Nice to see you too, Yo-Yo,” he said. He gestured for her to sit but she just looked at his chair. So he shrugged and stood up. She moved back a step and he held up his hands.

“I need you to look into something for me,” he said. 

“We agreed to leave our shit on the phone. Coming here is risky,” she said. 

“Everything worth doing is risky,” Slick Charles said. He looked Yo-Yo over, clearly interested in the woman’s amazing body. Tyrone wasn’t immune to Yo-Yo’s looks, but he knew better than to even sniff in a witch’s direction. Besides, he had you and that was all he wanted.

“I can’t risk this particular thing getting out. I need that confidentiality you’re so fond of,” Tyrone said. He put his hands in his pockets and stared her down, making sure she understood the importance of this meeting. 

Slick Charles closed the door and Yo-Yo jumped briefly. Tyrone sniffed but didn’t detect a hint of fear. No, Weavers didn’t fear things that went bump in the night. 

“I need to know about any supernatural creatures with blood that particularly calls to vampires,” he said. 

“Blood is kind of your thing,” Yo-Yo said. She walked further into the room but didn’t relax an inch. She looked around at his office, decorated in earth tones of brown and green. He had a couch, chairs, and bookshelf in the corner filled with his favorite books. 

“I know. This one’s a rare creature. It seems like only I can smell it. And it…makes me want to drain it dry,” Tyrone said. 

He didn’t want to admit any kind of weakness, least of all to a Weaver specifically, but he needed to know what you were. Maybe once he figured that out, he’d know how best to hide you. It was a miracle that you were able to survive so long. He wanted to keep it that way. 

“You sound like you’re talking about a Bloodsinger,” Yo-Yo said. She laughed and looked at Tyrone and then Slick Charles. 

“What’s that?” Tyrone asked.

“It’s a bedtime story for baby vamps and witches to explain why we hate each other,” she said. “But it’s just a story.” 

“Tell it to me,” Tyrone said. 

Yo-Yo shrugged. “I don’t even remember the shit, that’s how dumb it is. Something about your side used them in our war,” she said, waving her hand.

The name and description didn’t trigger anything in his brain. Then again, he’s lived so many fucking lifetimes, it was a wonder he remembered anything at all. Tyrone bent down and retrieved a briefcase from the side of his desk. He held it out for Slick Charles to take from him.

Slick Charles held it out to Yo-Yo who’s arm dropped when she held it. “This is more than my usual fee,” she said.

“I need this done fast, with discretion. Find out about that bedtime story. Spare no details,” he said. 

Yo-Yo raised her eyebrow. “Are you saying you found a Bloodsinger?” She asked.

Tyrone flexed his jaw but smiled. “Call it a passing pet project of mine,” he said. He bared a hint of his fang. She still wasn’t scared but that wasn’t his intention. He just wanted her to know the gravity of the situation. She could not let this get out. 

The last thing he needed was his Father catching wind. Yo-Yo nodded and hoisted the purse further on her shoulder.

“A little extra appreciation is a great motivator. Give me some time,” she said. 

Tyrone nodded. “Thank you,” he said. 

Yo-Yo nodded and casted a glance towards Slick Charles who stared at her like she hung the moon. “Fuck you lookin’ at, nigga?” She asked.

“Yo wig is sliding off,” Slick Charles said with a devious grin.

“Fuck you! Fake ass pimp,” she said. She rolled her eyes and went towards the door, opening it. 

Poised to knock on the other side was Fontaine. He looked from Yo-Yo to Tyrone to Slick Charles. His wide nose flared as he scented the air, scenting Yo-Yo as a Weaver. He grinned, showing off his gold grills. 

Yo-Yo scoffed. “Move nigga,” she said.

Fontaine made a show of stepping aside and letting her pass. “I’m Fontaine,” he called after her retreating form.

“I don’t give a fuck!” She called back. Her boots clicked away on the linoleum floor. Fontaine turned that grin on Tyrone and he fought a groan. The last thing he needed was Fontaine in his fucking business. 

Fontaine stepped inside. He wore dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and a brown jacket. He dug his hands in his pockets, mirroring Tyrone. It was still fuckin’ weird looking at his face on another person. It was why he avoided his other brothers, like Father’s little lap dog Charles. 

“Well, well, baby brother. The company you keep,” Fontaine said. 

Tyrone glanced at Slick Charles. He got the message and moved towards the door. He left, closing it behind him. It was just Tyrone and his brother. He liked it better when the fucker was overseas. 

“What are you doing here, ‘Taine?” Tyrone asked. 

“Missed you, baby brother,” Fontaine said. He sat down in the chair across from Tyrone’s desk, making himself comfortable. His smile was smug. Fuck. Was this how he looked when he had the upper hand?

“Why are you really here?” 

Fontaine took a deep breath. “I’m looking into what Pops been up to. I’m not sure what his plans are but he started this shit and I’ll end it. Been gone so long, started going around my old haunts. People started to think I was you.” 

Shit. Tyrone sighed and sat down in his seat. He settled in since Fontaine was in such a sharing mood. If people thought Fontaine was him, there was no telling how much in his business Fontaine already was. And the nigga hadn’t been here but a half a week. There was no limit to what he’d discover.

“What do you know?” 

“Heard someone’s trying to land a big hotel deal. That’d add nicely to your hospitality collection. Collecting them shits like Legos,” Fontaine said. He clasped his hands over his stomach. He was enjoying holding this shit over Tyrone’s head entirely too much. 

Tyrone bared his fangs. “Tell me what you trynna say, nigga,” Tyrone said. 

“Also heard someone is paying off other interested parties to outbid yo stupid ass,” Fontaine said. 

“Who?” Tyrone wracked his brain for his list of enemies. His list of allies was much shorter. He could count that on one hand. 

“Tell me what the witch was here for,” Fontaine said.

Tyrone rubbed his head. It took a lot more effort to get a headache as a vampire but Fontaine had an express lane to his last good nerve. 

“None of your business,” Tyrone said.

Fontaine clutched his chest in fake outrage. “We used to be so close, brother,” he said. He grinned, betraying his little act. 

Fontaine wasn’t going to give an inch so Tyrone sighed deeply. There were worse people to trust. For better or worse, he’d never gone to war with Fontaine over a betrayal. At the end of the day, they were still brothers. They shared the same face. To betray the other was like betraying themselves. 

“About what you said about Versailles,” he said. 

“Fuck outta here. They’re all dead,” Fontaine grinned and waved away Tyrone’s comments. But when he looked at Tyrone’s face, his grin dropped.

“Word? You found one?” Fontaine asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know what it is,” Tyrone said.

“You don’t remember the bloodlust or what we did?” Fontaine asked.

Tyrone leveled him with a stare and shook his head. “Spit it out, nigga,” Tyrone said. 

“I forget what they’re called but they were the witches’ most powerful weapon against us. Creatures created with blood that’s irresistible to vampires. One sniff and we lose our higher functioning. We so busy feeding, the witches would come up behind us and slit our throats. It was a rough fucking few centuries. The Council ordered their executions,” Fontaine explained.

The acrid scent of fear flooded the room and Fontaine’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Tyrone and swore a mile long. 

“You fuckin’ one, ain’t you?” Fontaine asked. “On the list of stupid shit, that’s at the top. Father will kill you for this.” 

“Only if that nigga find out,” Tyrone said and snapped his eyes to his brother’s. He let his feelings show on his face. The lengths he was willing to go through to protect you. 

Fontaine grinned. “Ain’t gon’ hear it from me. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Who’s trying to sabotage my deal?” Tyrone asked. He rubbed his head. He really needed to figure out what Yo-Yo would find out about the Bloodsingers. If Fontaine was right, you were in far more danger than just the wrong vampire scenting you. So far, it seemed like only he and Fontaine could smell you. He wanted to keep it that way. 

���Issac,” Fontaine said.

“Fucker,” Tyrone cursed and sighed. He had been having trouble with Isaac running around town acting like big man on campus. The mu’fucka was a hatin’ ass nigga with nothing better to do with eternity. 

If Tyrone moved left, Isaac switched lanes. If Tyrone got into real estate, Isaac was running around trying to buy up buildings Tyrone was looking into. Nigga didn’t have an original fuckin’ thought. 

Fuck the wrong bitch once and he never forgave Tyrone. It took a weak person to hold a grudge for centuries. But vampires were known for their patience. 

“Shoulda known that mu’fucka was on to me. I created a separate company just to get that building,” Tyrone said.

“Nigga got flies in your office. I ain’t know which ones yet. But if you quit all this animosity between us, I can keep an ear out for you,” Fontaine said.

Tyrone sighed. There it was. Fontaine never did anything out of the goodness of his own heart. 

“What do you want in exchange?” 

Fontaine grinned and seemed to savor the moment. He looked at his fingers. “Back my play to come home,” he said.

“What?” 

“Europe is fine but it ain’t like they’re that fuckin’ friendly to niggas that look like me,” he said. He grinned and looked back at Tyrone. 

“You want to come home,” Tyrone repeated. He tried to scent any deceit in Fontaine’s body but he didn’t find any. ‘Taine in the same world as him once more? It was dangerous. When they got together, they tended to end empires. Fuck shit up. Rip and run and threaten to expose their existence to humans. 

“I do. And I’m tired of being banished for being me,” Fontaine said.

“Being you? You almost exposed all of us!” 

Fontaine waved him off. “Maybe we need to stop fuckin’ hiding. That’s beside the point, nigga. I’m gonna find out what dear old Pops is up to and I’m gonna hold it over his head to stay here. ‘Cause whatever he’s fuckin’ up to, he sure as shit ain’t telling the Council.” 

Tyrone sat back in his seat, moving side to side while he pondered Fontaine’s request. Their father was the epitome of shady. Whatever his latest scheme was, he could believe that he was doing it behind the Council’s back. All they did over the centuries was play petty games of chess with each other. No one was honest on the Council. Everyone else was just pawns in their game. 

“Fine. You get my back, I got yours,” Tyrone agreed. Some part of him, in the further recesses of his cold dead heart, missed having his brother around. He wasn’t sure if they would get back to the camaraderie they had before. If they would be as thick as thieves again, but he could use an ally he fully trusted. 

Fontaine smiled. “Thanks, baby brother,” he said. 

Tyrone scowled while Fontaine stood up. “Keep your eye on that Isaac mu’fucka. He doing a whole lot to sabotage this deal. What makes this place so special?” Fontaine asked. 

“It’s in a prime location in LA. Dead center of the Hills with an incredible view. Lap of luxury. The owner is giving carte blanche to design it according to whoever gets the deal. This type of deal? King maker,” Tyrone explained. 

After so many years of living, the only thing that mattered was legacy. No one fuckin’ cared about money when you had more than enough to spend for several lifetimes. Legacy was what mattered. With no one siring natural children, name recognition was currency. 

Fontaine nodded. “I’ll keep my ear to the ground. Be ready,” he said.

Tyrone stood up. “One more thing. Stop leaving your food everywhere,” he said.

“Fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?” Fontaine asked.

“You show up and now I got cops calling me about bodies turning up, blood drained. Stop leaving your food around for the humans to find. We don’t need that scrutiny,” Tyrone said.

“That ain’t me, nigga,” Fontaine said with such vehemence, Tyrone had no choice but to believe him. 

Tyrone nodded. He’d have Slick Charles look into it then. If he was going to trust Fontaine, he had to take him at his word. He only hoped that it wouldn’t bite him in the ass. 

Fontaine left the room, leaving his door open. Tyrone looked down at the mountain of papers he had to get through. He had shell companies on top of shell companies. This business with Yo-Yo and now Fontaine. Plus, he had to keep an eye out for Isaac’s bitch ass. 

He needed a fuckin’ break. He needed you. He dialed your number and faced his window. He opened the blinds to show the busy nightlife of downtown LA. Giant neon billboards flashed with the latest bullshit to fleece the poor of the few nickels they could rub together. 

You picked up on the second ring. “This is a pleasant surprise,” you answered. Just hearing your voice calmed all his nerves. His worries melted away and he found himself smiling despite himself.

“Let me take you out,” he said.

You giggled. “You don’t even eat regular food though,” you said. 

“I like feeding you. Let me take you somewhere I can show yo pretty ass off,” he said. 

You giggled. “Everywhere would be booked,” you said. But he could hear you shuffling around. He knew your schedule pretty well by now. You worked from home today and were likely lounging around in them little ass shorts you liked. He ought to reprimand you for keeping your blinds open inside your place. But to do that, he’d have to fess up to practically stalking you. 

“Not for me,” he said.

You giggled. “Okay, where you taking me?” You asked.

“Surprise. Dress nice but not super fancy,” he said. 

You sighed prettily and he found his blood heading south, remembering how he played with your body. The way you responded to his touch and kisses. He wanted to inhale you and hold you close. He didn’t care if your blood was supposed to call to him. He wanted a taste. Yearned for it. 

“See you in an hour?” You asked.

“Less if I can help it,” he said and savored your laugh over the phone. 

***

You

You got dressed with excited shivers running down your spine. You ran through your closet trying to find a nice date night outfit. You had plenty of options, options you had bought on shopping trips with your girls even though you had no one to take you out.

Foresight planning was a gift as you had options. You held up certain outfits in the mirrors. LA was still temperate at night, though you were approaching the months where it was hot as sin in the morning and cold as a witch’s titty at night. 

You settled on a rich, purple bodysuit and sandals. You threw on a light sweater and did your makeup in the mirror while bouncing with the abject need to see this man. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this excited to see someone.

Was it simply because he was a vampire? You weren’t sure. He genuinely made you laugh and you liked talking to him. It was a different experience talking to someone so worldly. Usually the ones you found were so far up their own ass, they made your pussy drier than the Sahara. 

He told you about how things changed from time to time. He literally witnessed the rise and falls of entire kingdoms. There during the most interesting points in history. It was insane. If an historian caught hold of him, you’d never see the man again. 

You were fluffing out your hair when your doorbell rang. You practically skipped to the door and looked through the peephole. Tyrone stood there in a gorgeous midnight blue suit. He was thick in all the right places. His shirt bordered on obscene as the top two buttons were left undone. 

He rubbed a ring on his finger as he looked you up and down, taking in your outfit. “You are breathtaking,” he said. He held out his hand and you took it. He placed a chaste kiss on your hand and you wondered if he could smell how you melted on the inside.

You hadn’t even gone anywhere yet and you were ready to turn into a puddle at his feet. You smiled and ducked your head. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” you said. He opened his arms and gripped his jacket to open it more, showing off his outfit. 

“I can put a little something together,” he said. He held out his arm like an old school gentleman. He was going to kill you. You took his elbow, grabbed your clutch, and closed the door behind you. 

Tyrone took you to his car, a sleek Audi Q7 in black that seemed like it was custom built just for him. He held the door open for you and you climbed in. It smelled like it was brand new and you wouldn’t put it past him if he bought the shit earlier in the day. He closed the door softly behind you and then walked around to climb into the driver’s side. 

He slipped in and started the car. The display lit up deep orange and you squealed on the inside. This was the nicest car you’d ever been in. Would be the only nice car you ever got to ride in. 

He pulled away from the curb and kept one hand on the steering wheel. The other, he slipped into yours and brought it to his lips while he drove. “Tell me about your day,” he said. 

“I worked from home today so it was really nice to be in my own space and work at my leisure. I didn’t have to pace myself. Finished my shit by 11 and enjoyed playing hooky a little bit,” you said. 

“You have to pace yourself at work?” He asked. 

You enjoyed the city at night. The bright street lights washed over the car’s dark interior as he drove deeper into the city. You had no clue where he was taking you. You tried to guess even as you answered him.

“People at work hate to see a good worker succeed. If I do my work well, they want to dump more on me. Fuck that. I make myself look busy so they can leave me the fuck alone,” you said.

“That’s bullshit. You shouldn’t have to do all that,” he said.

“Tell me about it. My boss is cool but fuckin’ clueless. I’m not picking up the slack for slow niggas,” you said.

Tyrone laughed and you watched as his fangs flashed. You rubbed your thighs together, remembering how good it felt to have him bite into you and drink from you. At a red light, his eyes snapped towards yours.

“What you thinkin’ about over there?” He asked. His voice grew deeper, rougher. It only made your pussy throb harder. 

“You,” you said coyly.

“What about me?” He glanced at you again before moving forward on a green light. 

You were turned around now. You really had no idea where he was taking you. It was as thrilling as it was scary. You knew that he wouldn’t take you anywhere bad, but you hated not knowing. So you had control issues, sue you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you said.

“I really would,” he said.

You giggled. “Guess you’ll have to find out later,” you sang. 

Tyrone sighed deeply. “Mhm, I see I’m going to have to teach you how this gon’ work,” he said. His voice promised all kinds of filthy things and you were tempted to tell him to turn the car around and go back to your place.

You weren’t prepared for him to see your space yet. You wanted to clean up a bit, tidy up other things, and make it look like you were at least a grown adult capable of taking care of yourself. 

“Ain’t nobody scared of you,” you said.

Tyrone flashed his fangs. “You should be.” 

Tyrone pulled up to a pinkish building that looked like someone transplanted a real Italian building. There was a water fountain with statue angels in front that Tyrone drove around. He pushed on his sunglasses and then stopped the car. 

A valet strolled to the car a second later and opened the door for you. You got out and Tyrone came around the car, grabbing your hand from the valet. He handed him the keys and a rolled up bill. 

“Look out for it,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” the valet said. He was a youngish man with tanned skin and long brain hair pulled into a neat bun. Wanna-be actor. Weren’t they all? 

Tyrone walked you through the front door where you were greeted by a hostess in a subtle, professional black dress that still came across as sexy. She greeted you both, took Tyrone’s reservation, and bid you to follow.

You made sure to keep your face calm, but this restaurant was easily the nicest you’d ever been to. You weren’t a fancy person. You’d happily stroll by In and Out and sit your happy ass at home and enjoy it. But this? 

Tyrone was setting the standard for literally any other creature on the planet. No person alive could compete with the way Tyrone treated you. It was almost literally a man in the streets, freak in the sheets situation. Did you even want to entertain someone who couldn’t get a drop of the hat type of reservation? 

Inside, the colors were tastefully muted. There was enough light to see in front of you and the person next to you and still have it be intimate. Like a true night somewhere in Rome or Venice.

The hostess brought you to a sectioned off room. She held open the curtain and let you pass through. A separate dining room was back here, devoid of other people. Must be a slow night.

The hostess continued through and your mind spun with wild jokes about putting the Black folk in the back. They’d sit you next to the sink and feed you the cutoff scraps. You stifled a laugh as you continued down a short hall. She stopped near a door that had been left open. The breeze from outside caressed your face and you sighed. She bid you to go ahead and Tyrone’s hand slipped down to your hip.

He held you steady while you walked outside stepping on wide pinkish stones. There was one table set out here with two place settings, a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket, and a tall heater. There was plenty of ambient lighting so you could both see your partner and look out at the incredible view of Los Angeles.

Nothing lit up like Los Angeles when the sun finally went down and all those gold, orange, and white lights lit up the night sky like a beacon. It was the closest you felt to being in a fairytale. 

Tyrone held out your chair and you sat down. He helped you scoot in and then finally sat down. A waiter appeared with tanned skin and dark black hair. He nodded to the both of you.

“I will be your server this evening. If there’s anything you need, press this. A light will turn on and I’ll be right there. Would you like a menu?” He asked with a slight Italian accent. You wanted to laugh. They really took a theme to the very end. 

Tyrone turned towards you. “Do you want the asshole rich guy routine or the thoughtful one?” Tyrone asked.

You giggled. “The asshole one,” you said. Why not? You were feeling adventurous and dangerous. You were on a date with a vampire. 

Since this was LA, you felt like you were in a movie. That you were the femme fatale rival lover who knows Tyrone is a vampire and wants him as is. Except, in your movie, you win in the end and the bland ass protagonist settles for the equally bland best friend and have lovely flour babies. 

Tyrone grinned without showing his fangs. “No menu,” he said. He told the waiter that you wanted your favorite pasta, with salad. He guessed the salad dressing correctly. You raised your eyebrows. You weren’t convinced he couldn’t read minds. 

He didn’t order anything for himself but the waiter didn’t show any surprise. He only nodded and left the balcony to you and Tyrone. 

You looked out over LA and took a deep sigh. “This is insane, Tyrone,” you said. 

He shrugged. “It was too late to buy out the whole restaurant, so I hope buying out the private area will have to work,” he said. 

You gaped at him while he removed his sunglasses. It was harder to see color with this low light, but there was nothing human about Tyrone. He didn’t seem to mind, even as the waiter came back and poured the glass of wine that was chilling in the bucket. 

The waiter left and Tyrone swirled his glass lightly. The red wine smelled heavenly, but that didn’t mean it would be good. 

“You did what?” You asked.

Tyrone grinned and took a sip of the wine. He licked his lips and you fought a wave of arousal. Tyrone’s eyes only flickered towards you.

“It’s not fair that you can guess my moods like this,” you said. 

“Think of all the possibilities,” he said. He tilted his head. “What if we’re playing hide and seek?” 

You clenched your thighs. That…sounded like an excellent idea. “Or when we’re in public and you can’t wait to get home,” you said. 

“Tease. Who says I would wait ‘till we got home? I’d fuck you any place and anywhere. I’d fuck you here too and watch you cum beneath these stars,” he said.

You were a puddle. He could probably hear your heartbeat increase too. You took a deep breath as that particular image filled your mind. That was a little too public for your tastes. But the idea had merit. 

Tyrone grinned. “We ain’t gon’ get through this dinner,” he said. 

You fanned yourself and leaned towards the soft breeze rather than the heat lamp. But the wind was too weak, cut through by all of the LA hills. 

“We are. You didn’t spend this money for nothing,” you said.

“I spend money on nothing on the regular. At least with this, I get a beautiful view,” he said, looking at you. You tilted your head at him. He was so damn fine. That hint of a beard, sexy big lips, that wide grin. And those hands…

“No, we’re adults. We can behave ourselves through dinner,” you said.

Tyrone nodded and grinned. Topics moved on to safer and boring subjects. You discussed your respective families. That you had ties to the Caribbean but were a few places removed. Your grandmother had stories of island life from being a little girl, but her family was here in LA. 

He told you about some of the lifetimes he’d lived. Some of the famous celebrities through history he’d met, plus some that should have been famous. How he helped steer the course of history in some cases.

Your food came in the middle of it, but your attention was on Tyrone and his stories. He didn’t break stride as the waiter placed your food down. The waiter moved away without another sound.

He hung around many a president trying to get them to abolish slavery or any other atrocity they cooked up. Sometimes they were ignored, sometimes they had to roll a mind, sometimes they had to kill. 

“Roll a mind?” You asked.

“We can’t read minds but we are skilled hypnotists. We can make you see or feel all kinds of things,” he said.

“What sorts of things? Have you ever rolled my mind?” You asked. 

Tyrone looked you in the eye. “No. I wouldn’t do that without permission,” he said.

“I’m curious about it,” you said. You wondered if he could convince you to do things. Bad things or good things. 

Your mind stirred with all kinds of scenarios where you were a vampire. You weren’t entirely squeamish about blood. You’d miss food terribly. But you’d be able to move fast, super strong, more energy. The idea appealed to you strongly. You eyed Tyrone. If you asked, would he turn you into a vampire? 

“With your permission, I’d do it,” he said.

“You have my permission,” you said instantly. Tyrone grinned, showing that bit of fang. You couldn’t forget that he was a vampire. In the event that you did, you weren’t stupid. You knew that he was a dangerous creature capable of snapping your neck. But you had been waiting your whole life for something cool to happen. Now that it finally did, you weren’t going to ruin it with logic. You wanted to see all of it.

Tyrone nodded and you expected him to do it then and there. When nothing happened, you smiled. “Did you do it already and I don’t know?” You asked.

You polished off your meal, not able to eat another bite. You sipped on wine. 

“That’s later. When I got you spread open before me. Showing that pretty pussy. When you’re so blind with need, you’ll agree to anything. Completely at my mercy,” he said. He pitched his voice lower and you watched his lips. 

Your pussy fluttered and he grinned. “You like the dark side of me.” 

He didn’t say it as a question but you answered anyway. “I want to know all of it.”

“Even how many I’ve killed?” He asked.

“Have you kept count?” You asked.

He leaned back in his seat and sipped the wine. You mirrored him, finally trying it. Shit. It was delicious! The perfect mix of sweet and dry, exploding with flavor on your tongue. 

“Yes. Everyone. That doesn’t bother you?” 

You shrugged. “Would I get mad at nature running its course?” You shrugged. You weren’t going to compare him to a dog out loud. But would you get mad at a dog running? A cheetah with spots? 

“You think vampires are natural? Not magic?” He asked.

“Isn’t magic natural too? Would it exist if it weren’t?” You asked. You smiled. Tyrone smiled. 

“Okay, enough with the philosophy,” he said.

“I don’t know. I’ve always been weird about death and killing. I can remove myself from the bigness of it, if that makes sense? Otherwise it’s all I think about,” You said. 

“Have you always been into vampires? Or is it werewolves and witches too?” He asked.

“Are they real too? How can you tell?” You asked.

Tyrone looked at you as if he were asking himself questions and answering them himself. It played out in his eyes. Each answer, he widened his eyes a little wider. 

“Do you have magic in your family?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Not really? My grandma believed in a lot of shit,” you said.

He looked at the cityscape and you relaxed into an enjoyable silence. You liked when people could sit in silence sometimes. There was no need to force conversation during a moment of quiet. 

“Let’s get out of here. I want to try something,” he said. 

He stood up and grabbed your hand, pulling you to stand. He led you to the door and out of the restaurant. With every step out of there, his hand descended lower and low on your ass. 

He practically had a handful as you went out the front door. He handed a valet his ticket and his car was pulled around. The valet opened your door and handed Tyrone the keys. Tyrone shook his hand, closed your door, and then climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Want to experience what vampires can really do?” He asked. 

“Yes,” you said.

He leaned in conspiratorially and licked his lips. He smelled faintly like the wine you had and you leaned in closer, leaning in for a kiss. He grinned. 

“I want you to be sure,” he said.

“I’m sure,” you said. He finally kissed you. You smiled. 

So far, he hadn’t shown you anything to truly frighten you. You were sure in your knowledge that he could kill you at any second. And so far, his intentions were only to spend time with you and fuck you silly. And you really did love hopping on his dick.

Tyrone grinned. He put the car in drive but kept his eyes trained on you. He maneuvered the roundabout with ease and went out into traffic with his eyes on you. 

You weren’t that cool. You had to glance in front of you to make sure that he wasn’t going to hit anything. He hit untold speeds, flying down the street. Your hand gripped the seat belt around your chest. 

Tyrone stopped at a red light and smirked at you. “Want me to stop?” He asked.

“Don’t you dare!” You said and giggled. You heard your heart roaring in your ears. Your hands shook with adrenaline. 

Tyrone licked his lips and looked down at your body suit. He reached out with his right hand to curl against your left titty. You always felt that it was your bigger side. He lightly rubbed his thumb over your nipple.

You bit your lip. You didn’t wear a bra underneath so it took no time for your nipple to pebble. He pinched your nipple and you gasped with pleasure. 

The light turned green, the color spreading over Tyrone’s face briefly. He didn’t remove his hand from your titty. He was taking sick pleasure in eliciting sounds from you. He sped up, going impossibly fast. 

You had no choice but to focus on his hand massaging your breast. It felt so fucking good. You didn’t really think about your boobs while having sex. The guys you dealt with weren’t sure either. 

Tyrone seemed to delight in every inch of you. It was so liberating to have more than a few curves and have a man appreciate it. Genuinely appreciate it. There was no guessing his true colors. He just wanted his hands all over you. 

He flicked your nipple and you finally broke into tiny, shudders that wracked your body. He breathed deeply and you wondered if he smelled how turned you were. If you were soaking through your panties. 

He watched your reactions with a type of focus usually reserved to solving a puzzle. There were no words. Just your eyes on each other while he was driving a car through LA. You were breathless with exhilaration. 

You knew that you finally arrived at your destination when Tyrone slowed down into a series of turns. It was an observatory but didn’t seem like Griffith. The road turned a bit rocky as he pulled up towards a cliff edge. The parking lot was empty and there were a few well placed lamps that briefly reached his car.

The jet black interior seemed to melt into the night. There was only the orange-ish light from his car’s dash. He turned the car off and the orange light faded away. The car was charged with the electricity flowing between you. 

You couldn’t see him. He could likely see you though. He’d told you about how vampire night vision was basically like seeing in the daylight, except with a faint tint. You looked out of the car’s windshield. You were higher in the hills looking at LA and you sighed. It was so breathtaking. 

“Remember when I said I wanted to fuck you beneath some stars?” His soft voice seemed loud in the car. 

“Here?” You asked. “What about your car?” You asked.

Tyrone chuckled darkly. “I can get anything cleaned. If not, then replaced. If not, then I’ll buy a fleet of these and let you make a mess over all of them,” he said. 

Your pussy clenched hearing that. You were not into other people’s money. You were independent as fuck. However, hearing that he would do such a thing was turning you on. A fleet of cars just for you to cum all over? Where did you sign up for that job?

Tyrone got out of the car. He slammed his car and opened yours a second later. Here, he didn’t have to hide. He could show off his vampire powers, moving at impossible speeds. He pulled you to the edge of the seat. You thought it might be too high but you were angled perfectly. 

He faced you. There was a hint of light on his face so you could see that his focused face returned. He pushed your sweater off of your shoulders. You tossed it onto his side of the car. 

He grabbed your ankle, held it over his thigh, and started to unsnap your sandals. He still held that one while he picked up the other foot to do the same thing. He tossed those onto the floor. 

He grabbed the top of your jumpsuit and rolled it down. Your titties popped out and he licked his lips. The downside to wearing the jumpsuit was that he’d have to peel off the whole thing to get to your panties. Those, he rolled down your legs as well. You were completely exposed to him and the elements while he still wore his dark suit. 

There was something so profoundly naughty about that. Tyrone moved forward until you were laying on your back. There was only so far you could go comfortably and not have to rest on the hard armrest. You held yourself up by your elbows while Tyrone spread you further.

He dropped to his knees, kneeling in that expensive suit, so he could bring his mouth to your pussy. He moved your legs to his shoulders. His tongue flattened against your pussy and you moaned. Your back moved off of the seat as he licked and made out with your pussy.

You didn’t stifle your moans. You let him hear how much he was pleasuring you. You let the colder air carry your moans down the mountain where no one would hear. “Oh, fuck!” You moaned. 

He groaned while he ate you out. The sound sent shivers down your spine. He flicked his tongue along your seam and you shivered fiercely. 

You couldn’t hold this one off. You came with a high-pitched wail. Tyrone kept flicking that sensitive clit until he suddenly withdrew. His fangs sank into your thigh and you screamed with another orgasm. Your thighs slapped against his ears and he continued to suck you through it. 

You turned a pinch lightheaded when he stopped. He licked your thigh and you felt your thigh burn as magic knitted your skin together to stop bleeding. The scar would remain so that he would always know where to bite you. 

Your teeth chattered as he stood up, kissing your thigh and then your belly. You weren’t cold from the air. You were freezing from him snatching your body warmth with those orgasms. 

He kissed up your chest, stopping at the top to spend time licking and sucking on your nipples. His fingers played with the outer edge of your pussy before pushing thick fingers inside you.

“Oue, shit,” you moaned. “Tyrone, I-” 

“Yes, you can. You can give me a few more,” he said.

“A few?” You asked.

“Mhm, a few more. You feelin’ how you grippin’ my fingers?” He asked. 

“Yes,” you moaned. Heat suffused you. Your pussy throbbed. After cumming, you still gyrated on his fingers while he played with your insides. He began to curl his fingers in a come hither motion, lightly stroking you and you were another incoherent mess under his fingers. 

“Don’t that feel much better? Hm, I can’t wait to feel that on this dick,” he said. He kissed up your chest, sinking his teeth into it. He pulled blood out of you, sending sparks down to your pussy. 

You gripped his fingers with renewed fervor and he moaned. He pulled his face away slowly, gathering breath as if he had run a mile. He licked away the bite, letting this one completely heal. 

“Been missin’ the way this pussy feels,” he said. He pulled you closer, letting half your ass lean out of the car. 

He gripped his dick and ran it through your dripping folds. He bit your lip and moaned as he ran across your sensitive dick.

“Pay attention,” he said. His eyes found yours in the dark. His eyes seemed to glow with an inner light. It began to drown out everything around you. You felt like you were falling forward even though you knew you were laying down. 

“Pay attention,” he said. His voice echoed in your head. You were no longer falling, you were being pulled into the depths of a red ocean. You couldn’t see to the bottom. You were suddenly in it, splashing about, screaming. Screaming for what? 

“Pay attention.” You were pulled under the water. The acrid scent of copper filled your nose and you opened your mouth to scream some more. On the outside, you were quiet and you felt calmer than you ever had. 

It was like all of your worries and doubts vanished, leaving your mind pleasantly empty. “Look at the stars,” Tyrone said.

You looked towards the sky and gasped. Each ball of light seemed to be on fire. And closer. Lights dancing in your eyes as if you had taken a swim on the moon with stars as your backdrop. Your vision turned watery as the majesty of it was too much to bear. 

Tyrone’s dick circled your clit and you moaned painfully. You were ten times more sensitive. He skittered along nerve endings you didn’t know existed around your pussy. You felt wetter and needier, burning up with the desire to cum. It was like he was a gift from the heavens. A personal vessel for handing out pleasure like candy. 

He moved into your view. You could look away from the stars, it wasn’t like his control was absolute. But the stars looked so incredible. You felt like your vision increased. That the stars were close enough to touch. 

Tyrone pushed inside and you leaned up, pushing at his clothed chest. He was so damn big. Even with as wet as you were, he still stuffed you completely. You whimpered while he moved his hips, pumping into you.

This was the most intense sex you’d ever had. You’ve had sex while high and while drunk, sometimes crossfaded, and all of it paled in comparison to how sensitive you were right now. It was like you took an aphrodisiac and slowly became a vessel to receive pleasure. 

He moved more easily inside of you, pumping you while you looked at the stars. You came once more, huffing and hollering until you were screaming out his name. On the heels of that one, you were screaming from another one. 

Each time, the stars seemed to flare to life, growing brighter as your orgasm built inside of you. As the pressure built in your lower belly. As your clit throbbed painfully until you couldn’t take it anymore and were bursting with the power of a million suns. 

Your breath was robbed from you as Tyrone leaned down and kissed you. Your lips were sensitive as well. You felt his warm lips press against yours. His hot tongue seeking and playing with yours.

He hiked your legs higher on his hips and pounded into you relentlessly. You gripped the seat cushion for purchase but it was useless. You managed to groan pathetically when he pulled out. When he slammed back in without mercy, you couldn’t breathe. 

He used his hands to push your legs backwards, until you were neatly folded. Your pussy gripped him tighter at this angle and he groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. The wet slap of his dick against you turned you on more.

Everything turned you on. The focused look on his face. Slightly smug like he knew he was killing your shit. The way his fingers gripped your thighs to the point of bruising while he rammed inside of you. You gripped onto his shoulders. Maybe if he held onto you, you wouldn’t get sucked into a black hole of ecstasy. 

“Fuck, gripping’ the fuck outta me,” he moaned. The tension you sensed earlier seemed to leak out of him the longer he pounded inside of you. His face grew slack as he groaned low in his throat. 

He bared his fangs and you prepared for him to bite you again. But he was content to throw his head back, push forward, and groan out his climax. The feeling of his dick twitching caused you to moan and join him. 

You cried, tears running down your cheeks, as your juices mixed with his. You contracted on his dick and he groaned. Your hand dug into his chest, pushing at him, but he only leaned into it. Letting your hand slap at his chest while the pleasure was too much. Entirely too much. 

“Squeeze that shit. Let me feel it. Let me feel how I make this pussy feel,” he moaned in your ear. 

He nibbled on your ear while your thighs shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You couldn’t bear to let another one take you over. You were exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.

He moved his lips to kiss you. It was sloppy and all over the place but it was the best damn kiss of your life. Your toes curled from that alone. It was a mix of hot and sweet. Where he pressed into you as if he wanted to disappear inside of you. But his lips were soft and his tongue playing with yours. 

You moaned into the kiss, contracting around him. He echoed your groan and pumped a few more times. He leaned back and spread your legs, watching himself leak out of you. You moaned as you felt his cum sliding out, sliding down your ass, dripping out of you. He licked his lips as if he wanted to soak it all up. 

Instead, he pulled you into a sitting position. “Thank you,” he murmured against your lips. He gave you lazy kisses while you calmed down. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you said. 

“Gettin’ in this pussy is the only solution I need from now on,” he said. He dropped more kisses while running his hands all over your overheated skin. Everywhere he touched, it was like a signal went off in your brain to make you moan. Your nerves were still on fire. 

You ran your hands all over his smooth figure. You couldn’t get to his skin, but it was enough to feel the promise of his muscles. You wanted more. You wanted to feel him naked on top of you. You wanted to ride him. 

He grinned. “I have to keep remembering you’re human. I don’t want to break my new favorite toy,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you giggled.

“You’re so corny,” you said. 

“Want me to stop rolling you?” He asked.

“Not a fucking chance,” you said. “Take me to your place,” you said. You bit your lips seductively, looking from him to where he was standing in front of you. His dick bobbed as you stared at it.

He chuckled. “As the Lady wishes,” he said.

He helped you get dressed. You opted to leave the sandals off. He tucked you neatly into the car, closing the car door. A second later, he climbed into his side. There was no way to clean up from an impromptu session so you had to sit in the evidence of your neediness while Tyrone sped through LA.

The lights whizzed by and you sat and enjoyed it without overthinking. You felt free. Wild, untamed, exotic. You didn’t want this night to end.

Masterlist | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Wildflower pt 4

Pairing: Unrequited!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Fiance!Reader

Words: 2,279

You overhear some gossip. An ask is made and a direction is followed.

Tags: Mild age difference, fem!reader, heavy exposition, non-canon politics, original characters

<Previous - Next>

It had been both a hot morning and one full of action. Already, sore muscles grew sorer.

Shoes glanced against the grass, tiny bits of dew clinging to your ankles.

You marched easily, slowly as you made your way through the fields. Past long fronds and heavy rustling, you heard the raspy, muted tones of invested conversation. 

Besides you was a large cart with wooden wheels nearly the height of the place just above your hip, chalk-full of bales and barrels of both the dusty and fishy variety, respectively.

“Y’hear? With old man Harald and Frode?” There was an interested lilt to his voice that had you tilting your head ever-so-slightly away. You had no time for mingling or gossip. The clear words made their way over to you anyhow.

“‘ckh, how couldn’ I? They were shouting louder than Heaven in Hell.” 

You grimaced, pausing for a moment as a particularly tough breeze ran over you, brushing down fields like a hand down one side of a gorgeous fur coat, bowing and coming back up smoothly. In a much similar fashion, in that moment, some small, wet patches were rendered nothing more than crusted patches of sweat.

 It seemed that Duckmaw and Bjorner hadn’t been the only ones locked in battles of words.

Exhaling deeply for a moment, raking in the fresher air, past dusty yellow and drying greens twitching and shifting under the breeze, your eyes grazed over Saint Livary, with his hunched back and downy gray hair. He was skinny for a fisherman but very, very tall with quite the exotic name.

You weren’t particularly sure where it had come from, but it was probably Christian.

“You saw it happen, then!” You didn’t know the other one. You didn’t spend much time looking at him, his likeness only half-caught as you glanced away. 

He was tall and large enough to nearly dwarf the both of you though not as much of an intimidating presence as the Chief. His voice was nearly obscured not just by the sounds of distantly bleating sheep but also the sound of heavy chewing, the slight cracking of wood against teeth as they were picked at.

“Saw it happen? They were right up in my ear! It was my fish baskets they were arguin’ over- Who had the right to ‘em.” He shook his head out, long hairs twirling in the wind, “Well, I wasn’t sellin’!”

He barked out a laugh, “Those clansmen, I tell yeh.”

Your shoulder blades ached slightly, head tilted forwards at an awkward angle as your upper back was pressed flat against wood.

Yearningly, you thought of wide wooden basins and warm, slightly murky waters. You thought of freshly-washed skin and the feel of all the day’s hardships being washed away- unfortunately, you’d only your rags to look forward to tonight. Two rags and a bucket of cold water.

It was nothing a quick trip into the woods wouldn’t fix, though it seemed that the majority of Berk’s woodstockers were growing quite lazy. 

“You’ll be whistlin’ by a different tune once they start houndin’ you for yer woods.” He paused for a moment, “Woods and coals.” 

The shade felt like cool ambrosia soothing your skin. The break in your journey upwards was enough for your twinging lower back to deflate, the muscles loosening enough that you knew you would have some trouble getting started up again. 

You leaned closer. 

And, well, trouble was a long way off, you were sure… but, if there was anything to know, you would surely rather know it.

“Was the Jorgensons and the Thorstons before, wasn’ it?“

“Get off it- Harald’s an Ingerman.” Livary rasped, something smacking against what must have been the large, hollow horns of his metal helmet.

 You didn’t know of anything else that could make that sound, contracting sharply against the one that marked the shifting wiry shoulders and bag-like clothing. “That whole bit’s done and over with. Couldn’t find the papers.”

You leaned back, drooping down your ax with a heavy thunk.

 It stood on the ends of its blades for a moment before following you and leaning against the cart, wood clashing against wood,

It was only the expression of suspicion by the suspicious that would be able to raise the hairs on the necks of the suspect, so you didn’t bother to hide. While gossip was by nature secretive, the subjects of gossip were no secret and the Vikings of Berk were both bold and brash. It wasn’t worth the effort, anyhow; even if they knew you were there, they wouldn’t care much, and their chattering was nothing a pint at the Hall couldn’t earn you less than a coin.

“Pity. Made ‘emselves a whole show- was a mite interested. ‘Specially with ‘ol Gorm… That Gorm Halfdan knew how to make business interesting...”

“Gorm was a drunk. A waste of clean air.” Saint Livary barked out. “But- Ah, don’t look so disappointed yet, son. You ever know a Jorgenson who stayed out of it?”

You rolled your eyes, picking dirt out from under your nail with one hand, the other draped over the crook of your elbow, your ankles crossed.

The Jorgenson clan was a full one fueled mostly by ego and pride. They boasted of more of their accomplishments in war and coin than any other family. If you thought right, they might have already come.

It was nearing noon when you finally made your way back up to the house, past shoulder-height stone Vikings and up uneven rock-and-dirt paths. 

It felt later than noon, cool as it was, with shadows and strips of light stretching and marking the flooring, setting the stage for small, glowy bits of dust, which had somehow kicked up in the stillness of the room, now slowly settling down under intense beams of warm light.

Cloth caught over cloth as you brushed against the slightly splintered wooden door frame of the Haddock house. 

You could feel threads pulling against each other, sensation pulling at your arms the same way it did running your hands against raw, matted sheep’s wool, listening to the sound of a hard nail dragging against dusty stone.

A measly loaf of bread, not even enough to dwarf the width of your own hand, lay discarded on a small, cracked plate by the side of one large, hairy, freckled elbow.

 It was a poor excuse for a snack and an even poorer excuse for a meal, but Berkian society was one fueled by war rations. As of late, the meals had been sparser and the stews thinner than you’d ever seen them.

Once, a long time ago, you had a measly cookbook. It had been lost alongside your first pot and a plate you’d hidden away in the fields to make and hoard your own food. You’d already known how to cook some small things by the time you’d arrived. Unfortunately, the knowledge you’d had had been sparse and much of it had been lost to time. 

Still, you were sure your cooking skills were still much better than anyone else on the island.

“Chief,” You greeted, waiting still and patiently.

Dwarfing the chair to his back the same way the hoof of a sheep looked to an ant, the Chief leaned over a small table, his head in his hands, bear fur spilling through crooks of his arms and over wooden top, mingling with the seams of his clothing and twining itself in with foreign threads in a way that made it look nearly sewn-in.

The room immediately felt fuller and the rest of the world much, much smaller.

His hands were large enough to fully grasp your skull, calluses rough enough to slice papercuts into the softest part of your arms, his forehead hidden by a wide-horned helmet and a generations-old thick, furred coat donning his back in a way that made his giant self all the more imposing.

A few, measly scattered scrolls lay by his elbows, slightly worn and yellowed, pages crumbling and delicate like the ends of a daisy flower you'd once held between small fingers. 

You’d much rather be messing with your notebook, relishing in the feel of old leather and twine, feeling nearly spellbound, flipping pages with casual abandon. 

 Onto the Chief’s papers, in clear, old handwriting, were runes, clearly inscribed using a mix of the liquids and pastes found in the intestines and guts of dragons, killed, turned inside out and disposed of.

 It left a very specific sheen- for many years, so long it was practically tradition, dragons have been used by the higher clans to make their inks and seal their woods, mixed with dyes and blood and plants and plastered onto paper.

It was a luxury for some. 

There wasn’t enough wealth on Berk for there to be anything like Jarls- they lacked the excessive gold and silk clothes, crowns and castles and whatever else might dictate such a fancy name, rules born from tales from distant lands… Or, perhaps, that had just never been the way the people on Berk did things. Even still, there lay many discrepancies between the people. In most cases, status was marked by smaller things, such as this. 

You stilled for a long moment, waiting. 

It wasn’t so often you saw the Chief in such a state, light and shadow casting over him, washing away his color, making the thick lines over his face look nearly skeletal.

“‘Been a long night, lass,” He grumbled deeply.

You hummed something terse, face blank as he sat up, pushing back his chair with his back as if he hardly noticed it, moving back with a thick, wooden scrape against the hut’s floor. 

You were an easy ear to rant at, your silence taken as permission, your person first in line to fall victim to loose words and heavy hearts.

You weren’t surprised by his answer. In fact, you felt somewhat eager.

“The Jorgensons-” His words spoke nothing of your intrepid fiance nor any of his unVikingly obsessions, his head full of odd wheels and cogs- Your fiance was quite noteworthy, though only because of his failures. It was a feat for anyone to outstrip him in that manner, but if it had to be anyone, it would have been Jorgenson. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly, still standing at full attention. You kept your eyes focused on him still, a beast named ‘Curiosity’ glowering from a place far behind them. 

You might have been silent, tamed, but you were no less hungry for it.

“They’re land-hungry. That lot knows better than to get ahead of themselves.” He went on, large arms stilling, boxed fingers coming up to brush against his large mustache. “...They’ll stop the trouble, one of these days.”

“I’ll hit the books,” You offered. The library was always open in time like this. Abhorrently, peacefully quiet. Always empty. Things to read, to learn, full enough to keep you occupied for hours.

He looked at you appreciatively, appraisingly. He’d never found a reason not to. 

You took to hard work with ease and did not complain if you’d even bothered to speak a word. 

 Of course, he’d only taken you in as a favor, a response to a plea from a stranger. He’d probably never expected so much of you. He probably didn’t expect anything from you now, though it was a rare occasion in which you offered to help with any politicking.

His words were gruff, “You’re good help, lass.”

You nodded, something in your chest feeling- it wasn’t necessarily good or bad, pride or pleasure. Still, it was bright, and the feeling was a very, very rare thing, slightly dampened. Under normal circumstances, you’d never allow it, though even the most hardy plants needed rain. 

As you turned to leave, you hid your grimace.

You crumpled new paper between shaky and to let it fall to the floor, knowing more than ever what it felt like to pull in the heavy weights of dewey tears- Of course, the boy- you’d rather not be his carer, so it was just fine. You hardly liked him at all.

You'd always known you could do things- you just hadn't always known how to go about them. But…

You stared at the crumpled piece of paper on the floor, small fists clenched around the body of your skirt, dark shadow of your small, curtain-sectioned-off sleeping place under the stairs making egg-ey white look that much more gray.

Messy scribbles and your neater, still clumsy handwriting, some small correction, a small, hesitant smile, a bold rebuke, a broken bond, made not by either small hand but one large voice- It hurt.

You had hardly a clue in the world how to go about things here, where everything was so harsh and bleak and cruel. Maybe it was better if you washed your hands of him.

“Lass… better not,” He said, voice nothing like it had been before, sounding tough and displeased. It was stiff, threatening flat tones, awkward, far from the comforting baritone he’d most probably intended.

You did your best to keep your mouth still even as your hands threatened to shake, looking over at him with watery, ornery eyes.

You stared at his large hands, pressed aside worn, dirty green-gray cloth, his crouched knees, his shoulders that barely fit halfway through your makeshift ‘doorway.’

He scared you twice as much as he’d ever been able to ease your spirits.

You kicked the small, crumpled paper aside with the toe of your boot as if you might be able to hide it. You knew you couldn’t.

It was fine.

You’d only just been trying to help.

[taste-thewaste]

wip Wednesday 5.8.24 ❤️

Hi friends! Hope your week is going well! Thanks so much for the tags @onthewaytosomewhere @duchessdepolignaca03 @tailsbeth-writes @priincebutt @luainthewild and stealing the open tag from @eusuntgratie bc I want her to read this lmao.

Today I come to you with more of tummy fic 3.0, the smuttiest bit yet. y’all are basically reading this in bits as it gets written, but I’m really loving it so here we go. I’m throwing it under a cut bc it is a little ~filthy~

“You wanted to look like the upper-crust Brit that you are, not the pudgy little expat you’ve become.” Alex’s eyes are smoldering, a fire of arousal and control lighting them up. Henry is rutting himself against his boyfriend, and the words Alex is saying are lodging into his very center. He can’t do anything but grind against Alex, tangling his fingers into those curls he loves so much, low moans falling from his lips.

“But you couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Alex asks, and then Henry interrupts.

“Alex, oh, fuck,” Henry gasps, and he lets out a low scream, tugs on Alex’s hair as he comes, hard, in his trousers. Alex’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happening, and he grips Henry’s hips steadily, helps him through it. Henry’s body shudders for a few moments and then he stills, breathing heavily.

There’s a silent beat between them, and Henry feels his cheeks flood with a different kind of heat. The reality of what happened, what he did, courses through his body and he’s filled with hot, sticky embarrassment.

Tagging @england-would-fall @henrysfox @bigassbowlingballhead @lfg1986-2 @agostobuwan @piratefalls @bitbybitwrites @captainjunglegym @doublecheekedkinard @billyharris @blueeyedgrlwrites

(New friends, do you write? If so, tag you’re it! @ad-astra13 @mylucayathoughts @insecuregodcomplex) and open tag!!

[hegoeshardasfuck]

numb with pleasure

wordcount: 0.7K

tags: master/pet, praise, begging, technically gender neutral reader but they use the strap (im so sorry cis dudes), no plot/just porn

synopsis: he really likes to let go of control when you're around

note: *sweating buckets* guys im normal guys i swear it i prommy im so fucking normal about kakashi trust me guys-

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55360756

Kakashi begs like a bitch in heat.

Wanton. Loud. Sobbing. Whining. Drooling. Body shaking. Hair mussed. Oh how the list goes on and on, the ways you could describe your perfect mutt.

It's another night where he's panting, sweat dripping from his brow and body shaking as you fuck him over the counter. The collar on his throat feels like it's tightening with every thrust, his knuckles are white with how tightly he grips the edge. His knees are starting to give out as you wrench a hand in his hair and lift his head, he gives a throaty moan.

"You're so needy, Kakashi," You whisper the words against his ear as you bottom out in him, "I bet that if I left you to your devices you'd fuck yourself on my strap, wouldn't you?"

He can't quite make words work with the prowess he wants, but he can nod as he heaves his breathing. His grip slips and he just slumps against the counter.

"Such a good mutt, aren't you?" You taunt and tease but reach around to trace the collar along his neck. His body stiffens a little bit in response to that and you wish you could feel through the plastic of the strap.

"Me, I'm a good mutt." The words come out harsh and ragged and he would bark if he wasn't afraid of sending his dogs into a frenzy. Instead he just gives a somewhat animal sound, not quite canid, but close enough. "'M a great mutt."

You grin before gripping his hips and rearing back, he whimpers, "Yes you are, Copy Ninja. Such a good boy."

"M-Master..." Kakashi's back arches and he tries so desperately to meet your hips, but you don't let him. One hand pressed to his waist to hold him against the marble countertop and the other trailing up his front.

He's still wearing that slutty sleeveless top he always wears, well, except for one modification. Your fingers trace the edges of the boob window cut into it, pressing into his pecs without any abandon or fear. He whimpers, hell he damn near mewls. You nip at his shoulder and you would bite marks into his neck but the sleek fabric covers it up.

"Yeah, Kakashi?" You whisper against his throat, breath hot and he shivers against it.

He whimpers and moans, "Please."

You can't help but grin, "Please what, dog?"

"Master! Fuck me!" Kakashi yowls, throaty and needy as you dig your nails into his flesh and thrust. "Ohhhh, god. Fuck-!"

You slide your grasp from his hip to his cock and his knees buckle, he bites his tongue and nearly sobs. He nearly takes you down to the ground with him, but you just force him further up on the counter. "Such a good mutt."

Your hand rises up his chest and his throat and runs along his collar, a sheer leather that rests comfortably above his top. You can slide your finger between fabric and leather with ease. He gives a loud whine and you can feel it vibrate in your fingertips as he bucks against your hand.

"Cum for me," You demand and Kakashi has no choice but to do exactly as told because you're his master and he's your pet. You should get him some fake ears for the next time, make him really lean into it.

Kakashi's body shakes as he tries to reclaim a sense of stability, and he just can't quite get control of himself. He still wants to be a bitch in heat for a little bit longer. Just hand over control for a little bit longer, not play his role as a shinobi in the upper crust. He just wants to relax, let go and stop thinking about things too much as you call him a mutt.

But he knows that all good things must come to an end, this lovely fluttering high place you bring him too included. He still gives a whimpering sounds as he comes down from it all, grasping onto that place where he can stop worrying. When it's gone it's gone, and he knows that it's over until the next time he'll be lowered to animal levels of autonomy.

[inkblot22]

Idia and the expression of displeasure

Uh, shoutout to that guy who I thought was my friend, asked me if I wanted to hook up despite being over 1000 some-odd miles away, despite me being very openly not that into men and, more importantly, telling him very clearly that I have no interest in dating him specifically. You're so cool for that, man. I just love to feel like an object. The "something about me" is the crippling c-PTSD, anxiety, and possible psychotic illness rotting my brain and your reading of me as a "Creepy Goth Chick", thank you.

Anyway, I hope I was able to direct that shitty man behavior onto our beloved Idia. I did tag you, it's later on and if you'd like me to remove it, I can absolutely do so, just let me know. Also all I can think about is this vine.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

TW for verbal abuse, manipulation, emotional abuse, captivity, use of a shock collar, mention of physical abuse, Idia is an asshole, abusive relationship dynamics, lack of communication.

Idia is the type of person to believe he is pragmatic, when, in reality, he is rather mercurial. He will fly off the handle at the smallest thing but be completely unbothered by larger issues.

I imagine this could lead to a few problems for his dear, sweet partner. (By the way, I refer to Idia’s darling as his partner because that is what they have rationalized their situation to be, currently: they are Idia's captive partner. Idia doesn’t label them very often, and although he does call them his partner, he definitely sees them as an endearing pest, kind of. Despite them being there because of him, he often acts like they're a mouse or roach that popped up one day and he grew attached to.)

Idia is not the type to like striking or physically harming his partner. He’s the type to get rude and nasty, and play victim. This does not mean he doesn’t ever physically harm his partner.

See, that shock collar around their neck? We have previously established that this is connected to his technomantic energy, and his technomantic energy is connected to his inherent magic ability.

The collar is set up with a warning system. If Idia’s partner does anything he remotely dislikes or any set of pre-established actions that they are not made aware of, they will receive three low-voltage, quick-tap jolts of electricity right against the column of their pretty throat.

These actions include, but are not limited to: acting in any way to harm Ortho or Idia, attempting to harm themselves (this one had to be added after the hanger incident), walking too close to the door or the covered-up window, touching any of Idia’s current or past projects without permission, touching Idia’s gaming setup, ignoring Ortho (this only is put in place if Idia’s partner is hostile towards Ortho at any point, even just once) and refusing any food or drink given to them by Idia specifically. It's important to reiterate that Idia has not told his partner literally any of these rules. Much like the ways that some people train a dog, they have to learn the hard way.

After the three taps, Idia’s emotions and/or intentions dictate how intense the next shock is. Sometimes it’s a bored little zap, like a fourth warning to cut it out before he gets mad, sometimes it’s a rolling pulse that pulls them away from whatever they’re doing, sometimes it’s a tidal wave that literally brings them to their knees and makes them throw up. It really depends on the most annoying kidnapper in the world. 

Idia is very aware that holding this person hostage because of his own predilections and perversions is a wildly morally incorrect thing to do, but Idia also doesn’t give a steaming shit. He’s been given what he wants, having grown up as a member of the upper crust, and if he doesn’t get it given to him, he finds a way to get it.

This means that, as much as we all love him, Idia is a whiny pisslord. The second his partner doesn’t do what he wants, he’s grumbling about it, he’s whining, playing victim, getting huffy.

While that might not sound bad, please remember that Idia’s partner has a bunch of exposed wires situated with the intent of shocking them around their neck at all times, and the shock collar is connected to Idia’s emotions. While getting shocked in a more violent manner isn’t very common for them, it can still happen, and therefore it's possibly best to do a little eggshell walking.

Besides that, it’s not very pleasant to be around someone who is so volatile, even if at their most disappointed they just complain for a few hours or days. Having to deal with someone else’s displeasure in life while being more or less unable to discuss your own does not do wonders for your mental health.

Let’s go over some scenarios and the punishments connected to them.

Idia has been playing some online fighting game all day, pretty much ignoring his partner. He hears them move during a cooldown between matches, turns around in his chair, and asks demands that they come over and let him kiss them a little. Of course, Idia’s partner declines. In this situation, Idia would usually get upset and complain about it for a while, name calling included. His words and mood definitely have the vibe of, “How dare you breathe around me and then not let me touch and kiss you. That’s just leading me on, breathing around me.”

Idia’s partner made some cup noodles while Idia was taking a nap after he raged all night and well into the afternoon. He wakes up and sees them sitting in his gaming chair, facing away from his computer and eating. In this situation, Idia would straight up zap them for two reasons. Number one, they didn’t make him anything to eat, and number two, they’re not supposed to be sitting in his chair or at his desk. Anywhere near his computer/anything that could possibly be used to contact someone on the outside without supervision is a huge issue. Keep in mind that he never deigned to share this rather important rule with his partner.

Idia’s partner has a bad day and snaps at Ortho, shoving him away very, very gently. It almost goes without saying; they’re getting zapped to the point of unconsciousness, because Idia panics and then gets mad, in that order and in rapid succession. The emotions blend together for a moment which makes the jolt stronger. This is when the “no ignoring Ortho” rule would be implemented, because they’d better be really nice to Ortho for the next few months before Idia decides he can trust the two of them to interact without his watchful eye. He trusts his little brother, but he doesn’t trust his partner.

In honor of a certain discussion I had with @tht0nesimp (thank you so much, you're very insightful,) Idia’s partner has a meltdown (understandably) and starts throwing things, including a glass of water that was brought to them after they had a bit of a cry in the shower (stay hydrated, everyone.) The glass, still with the water in it, sails across the room and clocks Idia right in his pretty face, ideally breaking his nose. While it’d be understandable to assume that Idia would be mad enough to hit his partner with a jolt of electricity that would bring them to their knees, Idia is sensible enough to understand that this is a display of some form of hysterical emotions that his partner has been bottling up until this point. Therefore, instead of electrocuting his partner, he just starts complaining, more loudly than usual. It is not peculiar for his voice to rise in volume but not in inflection, we hear this in game, but imagine that just a bit louder and more whiny.

“Wow, and here I thought you were an adult. I can’t believe you can’t even control your emotions.”

“My nose hurts. No, don’t apologize. It’s your fault anyway. I don’t even want to know what you’d do if you were really mad.”

“If you want to make it up to me, you could- don’t make that face. Whatever, I knew you weren’t being serious. Whatever. Just ask Ortho to get me an ice pack and go sit somewhere away from me. It's fine. It's fine!”

[medusapelagia]

Seeds of Dreams, Seeds of Truth 3\11

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Tags: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Magic, Regent Prince/King Steve Harrington, Knight Eddie Munson, Prison, Sick Steve Harrington, Vomiting, Attempted Murder, Poisoning, Double povs, Panic Attacks, Magic

Read it here or on AO3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, (Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11)

WC: 2232

One week.

Steve has been held prisoner in the dungeons for one week and, apart from that brief moment in which he saw Joyce, the only people he has interacted with are his father’s guards, who never speak to him, and a mysterious blond kid that quietly stares at him with his head tilted and his blue eyes pinned on him, the same boy he used to see when he was a kid. His invisible friend, he used to call him, the one he played with when he was left alone in the longest night in the castle, but seeing him right now means only one thing: Steve’s hallucinating. 

He does his best to keep himself hydrated, but he can’t force himself to eat the crust of stale bread that the guards bring to him every day. He doesn’t even stand up anymore: he feels so weak and fragile and his dreams are haunted by visions of Eddie dying in the most atrocious way while he is so close to him but can’t help him. 

Steve sighs. He is starting to think that the only blue sky he will ever see is his little square, but what is even worse he will not lose himself in the dark well of Eddie’s eye, not even one last time, and the last memory he will have will be his guard screaming his name while Jeff was trying his best to hold him back, like a feral animal.

Night after night his little star has shown himself, shining brightly just for Steve, as if it was trying to remind him that he has to be strong, Steve would like to tell her that he is doing his best, but his body is feverish and sick, his stomach hurts so badly and he has no more strength.

“I’m sorry…” Steve whispers to the star that he sees every night, lifting one arm toward the sky as if he could pat the little star like a dog.

A dog… a stray dog, as Steve called Eddie the first time they met. 

The little prince had intended it as an insult, but Eddie wore it like a compliment and it became a playful nickname between the two of them: no more a stray but a guard dog, a faithful presence at Steve’s side, ready to bark and bite everyone who got too close to his master.

A playful puppy, but also a strong defender.

Steve’s last regret is that he would not see him again, or kiss his chapped lips, and he will never glide his fingers through Eddie’s black mane again.

“I’m sorry, Eds…” Steve whispers, staring at his star one last time.

***

Like every other night, atop the stairs there is a guard that is watching the prisoner, annoyed. The man is leaning against the wall, sipping some wine that he took from the kitchen, while he hears the music coming from the banquet hall. He curses under his breath, complaining because he is freezing his ass on the stairs while the others are having fun. After all the eerie things that are happening he deserved to have some fun as well, but no, his captain put him in charge of the prisoner. As if the poor guy would be able to get anywhere. He sips more wine from the bottle, he has had horrible dreams in the last few days, maybe more wine is the solution to finally get some dreamless sleep. A suffocated thump behind him attracts his attention, so he sets the bottle of wine on the ground and he turns toward the upper part of the stairs. He squints, trying to understand what’s going on, but all he can hear is the loud music coming from the banquet hall. For a moment he remains with one foot on a different step, unsure if he should step upstairs and check what’s going on or not. He takes a couple of steps more, moving his hand toward the hilt of his sword, ready to wield his weapon if needed, but he sees no one. 

“Fucking rats…” The man murmurs to himself, turning his back to the stairs and stepping back toward his position, but as soon as he turns he feels a rope tighten against his neck and a cold voice whispering in his ear, “Rat is offensive. I’m a dog. A stray dog.” and then the guard falls to the ground, unconscious.

A shady figure kneels at the side of the guard, patting his body in search of something, and when he finally finds what he was looking for he can’t suppress a little happy giggle.

“Come on, we don’t have all night!” Another man says, and the man kneeling on the ground nods, getting up and running down the stairs but he stops abruptly at the end of the stairs, cursing under his breath.

“Holy shit! Steve… Stevie…” the man calls, but the man in the prison cell doesn’t stir.

“Fuck! Do you think he is…” the other man asks, worried.

“Don’t even think about it, Gareth!” The first voice scolds his companion while opening the cell’s door with the keys he stole from the guard. “Stevie? Steve? Can you hear me?” he tries again, freeing Steve’s arm and grimacing at the red blistered skin under the rusty metal.

“Eddie…” Gareth says, holding the torch close to the prince’s face: Steve’s golden skin is a sick shade of green and he is not moving, not even now that Eddie cradles him.

Steve’s personal guard grasps his dark hair with a pained expression “We waited too long. We should have come to get him as soon as that piece of shit took him away from us. We should have killed them all when they got to the Sacred House!” Eddie murmurs a litany of insults toward the king and his guards, while Gareth puts two fingers on Steve’s neck.

“He is alive!” he announces with a breath of relief. “His heartbeat is so faint that it’s hard to find it, but it is there. He needs a healer. And quickly!” Gareth says, “Let’s go, I don’t know how long it will take the guards to find out that no one is patrolling.”

Eddie nods, wrapping the ruler of his heart in the ratty and moldy blankets. He shivers when he touches Steve’s cold skin: the boy usually runs so warm and always complains when Eddie touches him with his cold hands, but right now he feels so cold that Eddie’s hands in comparison are hot like lava.

“Fucking piece of shit!” Eddie curses under his breath, lifting the unconscious boy bridal style, and then he and Gareth start to run. When they meet Joyce on the top of the stairs they exchange a little nod, and as soon as they leave the keep they hear the woman screaming behind them, and the sound of feet rushing in her direction. 

They have just enough time to get to their horses and run into the woods while the guards gather together and raise the alarm, waking up everyone, but Eddie and Gareth are fast and they know the woods like no one else. They had hid for a few days before finding a place safe enough to let them rest and make a plan to save Steve. They gallop into the woods, avoiding the main path and getting deeper and deeper. Somewhere behind them the dogs are howling, the guards probably gave them a piece of Steve’s clothes and now they are following his scent, so they decide to cross the river on their horses to cover their tracks. Eddie cusses as he tries to ride the horse with one hand while keeping Steve’s unconscious body tight to his chest with the other, but he manages to keep going and keep Steve safe in his arms. When they finally cross the river and the horses reemerge on the other side the two men keep galloping to the furthest part of the woods till they see a little wooden house with some white smoke coming from the chimney.

“Help! Help!” Eddie calls, halting his horse who whines in protest and shakes his head, offended, but Eddie has no time to lose. As soon as Gareth reaches him he lets the body of their prince slide into Gareth’s arms and quickly dismounts from his horse, not even stopping to tie the horse to some trees, and kicks the door of the little house open. “We need help!” he yells, letting Gareth inside.

Inside the little house, there are two women: one tall woman with short hair and a black cloak and numerous crystals around her neck, and a younger one with a white cloak and long blond ponytail. The younger one is the quicker to get to the door, but she covers her mouth with her hands when she sees how pale the young prince is. “This way. Quick!” she says, showing them a bare room with a bed where Gareth lies the unconscious boy.

“What happened?” the other woman asks, getting closer and looking at the pale boy who is barely breathing. “Was he wounded?” she asks, checking him for injuries.

“I don’t know! I haven’t seen any wounds but when we found him he was unconscious.”

The woman in a black cloak lowers his nose toward the boy’s mouth, “His breath is too feeble and I smell a hint of almond.” she declares, getting up quickly, and going through their ingredients, grabbing some of them and knocking down others in her rush. When she has gathered all she needs she starts to stir some kind of potion.

She starts to work on her potion as fast as she can, adding herbs and other ingredients that Eddie doesn’t really know what they are but that smell really bad. She keeps stirring it until a green puff of smoke rises up, and then she pours some liquid into a wooden cup.

“Make him drink this.” She declares, offering Eddie the cup once the potion is ready.

Eddie gets closer to his prince, lifting gently head and trying to help him into drinking the smelly potion, but the boy doesn’t move, so Gareth pries his mouth open and Eddie gently pours the potion inside Steve’s mouth, moving his finger on Steve’s throat, trying to coax him to swallow it.

For a few moments, it seems that nothing happens. Eddie is so tense that he feels like a string ready to snap, but he can’t move: if Steve is going to die he has to remain at his side, murmuring to him comforting words without even knowing if the boy can actually hear them. Just when Eddie is almost resigned that they were too late and that the only thing he can do is hold his lover’s hand till his last breath, Steve’s body starts to spasms and the boy suddenly opens his eyes and turns to the side, holding his stomach.

A mix of the potion and some black goo splashes on the ground, while Eddie keeps patting Steve’s back, praising him. “Good, you are doing so good, Stevie. I’m so proud of you. You are doing so well.” He murmurs while the boy keeps retching. “Let it out. Let it all out.” He whispers, sweetly, while holding the prince’s hair away from his face until the boy almost collapses. 

Eddie gently cleans his mouth with a tissue and helps him back on the bed.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he asks, offering him some water to wash away the terrible taste.

The two women, at the other side of the room, share a worried look and that doesn’t go unnoticed by Gareth, who turns toward them and asks worriedly, “What?”

The women keep staring at each other in silence, until the older one gently pushes the other toward the kitchen, “Do you mind fetching me some  flamingo potion , sweety?” she asks, and the other woman smiles softly and nods, goes back to the kitchen and comes back with a pink potion that smells like candy apple. “Drink a little bit of this. You’ll feel better after.” She says, offering the cup to Steve, but his arms shake too much, so Eddie grabs it and tilts the cup, helping Steve take a few sips, before letting him lay back in bed, his eyes already half closed.

“Sleep my king, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Steve asks in a voice so little and sweet that Eddie cannot refuse him even if he wants to.

“Promise.” He confirms, kissing his knuckles and smiling at him but he can’t avoid a shiver when Steve’s eyes close once more, the image of him half-dead in that prison cell is still engraved in his memory.

When he is sure that his love is still breathing he turns toward the two women.

“Tell us.” He demands.

“We have seen it before. That black goo.” They finally admit.

“What is it?” Gareth insists.

“Nothing good.” The older woman replies, staring at the asleep boy. “It’s a very old potion. I have no idea how someone managed to replicate a potion that was prohibited ages ago.” she murmurs almost to herself.

“Prohibited? And why is that?”

The woman lifts her blue eyes and stares at Eddie, “Because it’s dark magic.”

[sunatsubu]

Get to Know Me (Tag Game)

Rules: answer + tag 9 people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with

thanks for tagging @mystical-salamander @hayesflints! Favorite color: blue and green Last song: Because the Night by Patti Smith Currently reading: I'm deep in so many dungeon meshi fics and SO many different Laios pairings but current active fav is a really cute modern AU Chilaios fic What Keeps You Here by @avoidcrow and @every-captain. It has EXTREMELY autistic Laios and grumpy Chil set in the 90s and I love it so much Currently watching: in the middle of a class actually supposed to be watching the lecture but i'm slackin' LOL Currently craving: some kind of cake. Maybe matcha flavored. I haven't had sweet things in so long Coffee or Tea: both! A hobby you would like to try: Been wanting to try archery foreverrrr but the range near me is always SO crowded I chicken out every time An AU you're working on/thought of: I've been wanting to expand more on my kalluzeb railroad kiss fanart (...still need to finish that lol) where Kallus is some aristocrat/upper crust type and he encounters blue collar worker Zeb, clashing at first and going through classic enemies-to-lovers. All in fun period clothes of course. Maybe something Titanic-inspired, just for the aesthetics NOT the storyline cuz I am absolutely not strong enough to have one of them die lmao

While brainstorming on that, I also thought it could be fun switching their roles, so Zeb is actually upper class (royal Honor Guard and all that) and Kallus is the one who's lower class (insp. the popular headcanon of him coming from Coruscant slums) who for whatever story reasons is trying to pass himself off as upper class. He is of course very good at it but by sheer dumb luck Zeb happens to catch him in the lie and Plot ensues.

I'm fried right now so can't think of 9 whole ppl but @lost-in-derry @mayawakening @solsilverpine @heart-0f-a-rebel16 gooooo (if you haven't already/no pressure!)

[purgetrooperfox]

15 Lines Game

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well.

I'm here from someone's open tags heehoo

passing on npts to @hamburgerslippers @totentnz @killerspinal @kiwikipedia @alwayskote @galacticgraffiti @certified-anakinfucker and anyone who wants to do it!!

“It's not like I frequent these events,” he mutters, feeling like a broken record. “I would appreciate the help though, thank you.”

“A great many things might seem unbecoming when their purpose is obscured, Master Tapal.”

"Peacekeeping has many faces. The diplomats and negotiators do work that I can hardly even imagine." [redacted context] "You're right, all the same. There's a certain naivete and unconscious bias in a lot of Knights. Lack of perspective about what it takes to survive."

“The artist who gave my father his markings was the one to give me mine," he continues, a touch wistful. "Going back home was strange. Seeing the ways it had changed and the ways it was still stuck was… hard.”

"You would be wise not to show your condescension so openly, Skywalker. If I can feel it, so can most beings on this planet. Need I remind you that ties with the Force run deep here?"

“Just Bastra is fine,” Vargdan sighs. The look he fixes on Kenobi is equal parts irritation and resignation. “You said it was urgent, so I didn't pit stop on Coruscant."

“Not the way you do, but my Master did.” His smile is sad, but free from the weight of grief. “He took them very literally, and if you know what they’re like, I imagine you can see how that would toy with one’s mind.”

“The Order is all I have. This is the only reason I ever got off Dathomir.”

“It's not safe to be out here alone,” he says without turning, forcing her to jog a few steps before matching his pace, “especially for unsubtle thieves.”

“Don't say that. Not now. You had your reasons, you had Sifo-Dyas, and I got that. Eventually. It doesn't matter anymore.”

“I know.” A silence, then an admission, “She's not as angry as I was, I don't think.”

"I mean, it's not like I know how to conduct an army. Bones is miles more qualified than I am, so I'll gladly defer to his judgment."

"This was kept from you for a reason. Some stories are best left buried."

"Obi-Wan was killed in action on Utapau," he repeats. "I know nothing more of it."

“I nearly did, after Sifo-Dyas died.” [redacted context] “I was on my own out there, after, no contact with the Temple to replace him. In all that– with that gang, the things I had to watch. The things I had to do. I was right at the edge.”

(nocte and des under there ⬇️)

“It’s not just the job.” Still, Nocte pulls off his gloves and dumps them in a bin. His expression settles into something hard to read. "You're one of us now, whether you're ready to act like it or not."

"I've put myself on the line enough at least one lifetime, but here we are."

"I don't pity you, MacTavish. I didn't come here to fight with you either."

"What was it you said? No room for morality in war?"

"Well," he grunts, "call it a lapse in judgment if it helps you sleep at night. Not like I'd take offense."

“It doesn’t matter, Soap. It’s just not my bloody name.”

"It's exhausting. The upper crust is exhausting. Aren't you exhausted?"

"Price is going to kill me and it'll be your fault. Me and Lee, both," he complains, though it rings hollow when he doesn't stop her.

"It'll grow back, probably faster than the higher ups would like."

"I don't care whose fault it is. Get your asses back here and fix it."

"Are you threatening to blackmail me, Captain? Because that's a two-way street after–"

He whistles, low and appreciative. "That is one big bastard."

"Quit trying to pick me apart, Lieutenant, I'm fine."

"We shouldn't," he forces himself to say. "We can't."

"How do you ever get anything done with your head that far up your ass?"

"You will mind your goddamn manners or you'll see a different 'doc. Do you understand?"

“You came in with a referral, made my life a little easier, so I'll give you a discount. I respect you, Viktor, you're good at what you do. Not to mention your days in the ring – I was such a fan.” His expression twitches toward something that might even be genuine. “How about this, I'll dig up this chrome for you and you'll owe me a favor.”

"I doubt Royce would've let me walk away from that. Heard he's got a new right hand."

"Hard to believe that's true," he said, laughing a little. "Reckon this is more memory than imagination."

“The crew called me Eyes, which was a gonk ass nickname. Stuck, though."

“I’ve known Hands for a long time, grew up in Pacifica. Don’t get me wrong, I heard about you on the street, but didn’t really pay it any mind until he started asking after you.”

"I think you answered your own question. It's a clinic, ain't it? I'm getting doctored."

"Fucking disgraceful is what it is. You build something, pour your blood sweat and tears into it, just for some upstart leadhead to run it into the ground."

“So I’ll talk to him, clear this up,” he says, even though it’s an uncomfortable prospect. “He probably respects me enough to halfway listen.”

"No. No one ever made me do anything. I lost a lot, but I won't lose that."